»T,»il*.*- 
 
AC8 .BsgTasz"""'"""' """"" 
 
 **^Smm^A'^»S'SS^*!i Professiona 
 
 olln 
 
 3 1924 029 631 441 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis bool< is in 
 tile Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029631441 
 
MODERN INQUIRIES: 
 
 CLASSICAL, PROFESSIONAL, AND 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Br JACOB BIGELOW, M.D., 
 
 LATB PBEBIDSHT 01' THB AHEBIOAH AOADEUT 07 ABTS AUD SCIEITOES, 
 Aln> LATE A PBOPEBBOB IN HABTAKD UHITEBSITT. 
 
 " Nallios addictua jurare in verba magistri.** 
 
 BO'STON: 
 
 LITTLE, BEOWN, AND COMPANY. 
 1867. 
 
Entered accoTding to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 
 JACOB BIOSLOW, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Couit of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 CAMBBIDGE : 
 BTEEEOTTPBD AHD PKINTKD BT JOn» WILSOIT AHD BOH. 
 
TO 
 
 GEOKGE TICKNOE, ESQ. 
 
 Mt dear Ticknob, — 
 
 In a note received from you a short time since, you 
 kindly advert to the youthful days when " we lay on the 
 carpet, and read Homer together." Since that now dis- 
 tant period, you have remained loyal to your first attach- 
 ment, dividing it only with the more recent literature, 
 which you have largely cultivated and signally adorned. 
 If I seem to be recreant to the pleasing associations of 
 those times, it is because I am swept along with the 
 progress of the age, and have become disciplined in some 
 measure to replace delightful visions with more arduous 
 and growing realities. 
 
 Tour early and late friend, 
 
 JACOB BIGELOW. 
 Boston, April 15, 1867. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 The contents of this volume are mostly reprints of 
 occasional productions, written or spoken, in various 
 forms and at different times, during the last' fifty 
 years. They have been the exceptional recreations 
 of a long and busy professional life. If they have 
 any common bond of resemblance, it is that a great 
 part of them are innovations, or departures from 
 opinions which were more or less prevalent at the 
 time of their publication. 
 
 The tendency of the world, not less in modern 
 than in former ages, has been to exaggeration. 
 Popular sentiment on speculative subjects is docile 
 and gregarious, and follows readily in the track of 
 guides whose authority is previously accredited by 
 others, and whose zeal is persistent, even if it be 
 
 not always according to knowledge. But, after- 
 
 [y] 
 
1 
 Vi PHEPACE. 
 
 wards, the effect of time is to replace excessive 
 devotion with a corresponding distrust in public 
 opinion ; so that, sooner or later, the reign of idol- 
 aters is succeeded by that of iconoclasts. 
 
 In looking back on the existing opinions which 
 at intervals have seemed to call for, or at least to 
 excuse, the publication of these desultory papers, 
 it is to be recollected that there have been times, 
 even now not far remote, — 
 
 When the attributes of scholarship were accorded 
 to those only who were proficients in the ancient 
 languages, and when familiarity with profitable sci- 
 ences and with modern literature was not held to 
 constitute learning, — 
 
 When the great changes effected in European 
 civilization about four centuries ago were ascribed 
 to the revival of classical Jearning, and not to their 
 true cause, — the discoveries made in physical sci- 
 ences and arts, — 
 
 When the removal of human physical maladies 
 was believed to be mainly, if not solely, practicable 
 through the application of drugs and medicines, 
 and by a resort to perturbative, and often violent, 
 measures, — 
 
 When the introduction of pure water into cities 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 was not accounted safe if it came in the now com- 
 mon vehicle of leaden pipes, — 
 
 When the crypt and the overcrowded church- 
 yard, and not the forest sanctuary, were considered 
 fitting repositories for the remains of the dead, — 
 
 When the intercourse of nations was thought to 
 be the fruitful cause of cholera and of some other 
 epidemics not yet known to be contagious, — 
 
 And when, as a matter of historical curiosity 
 among the unjust judgments of mankind, Vesuvius 
 was held accountable for the suffocation of the 
 elder Pliny. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Pass 
 ^On the Limits of Education 1 
 
 n. 
 
 NOn Classical and Utilitabian Studies 37 
 
 m. 
 
 On the Life and Wobks or Count Rumfobd 90 
 
 IV. 
 On the Death of Pliny the Eldeb Ill 
 
 V. 
 On the Bubial of the Dead, and Mount Aubukn Cemeteet . 119 
 
 VI. 
 
 Befobt of the Action of Cochituate Wateb on Lead 
 Fifes, and the Influence of the same on Health . . 137 
 
 VIL 
 On Self-limited Diseases 143 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 vin. 
 
 Oh the Tkbatmeht of Disease 173 
 
 IX. 
 
 On the Medioai, Peofession amd Quaokbkt 199 
 
 X. 
 
 Bkief Expositions op Rational Medicine 216 
 
 XI. 
 The Paradise of Doctoks: a Fable 251 
 
 XII. 
 
 Practical Views on Medical Education 263 
 
 xin. 
 
 On the Early History of Medicine 271 
 
 XIV. 
 Whether Cholera is Contagious 287 
 
 XV. 
 
 Testimony on the Cattle Disease in Massachusetts . . 295 
 
 XVI. 
 Eeport on Homceopathy 326 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Address Delivered before the American Academy of 
 Arts and Sciences 3S3 
 
 xvm. 
 
 Aphorisms on the War. — 1 358 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ApHOBISMS ON THE WAB.— n 862 
 
 XX. 
 
 DlAIX)OUE BETWEBD NAFOI^EOH THE FiBST, AND JeBEMIAH, A 
 
 LATE Citizen of the United States 365 
 
 XXI. 
 The Dab£ Side, the Bbight Side, the Fbacticabus Side . 371 ' 
 
ON THE LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 AN ADDRESS READ BEFORE THE MASSACHUSETTS INSTITOTE OF 
 TECHNOLOGY, NOT. 16, 1866. 
 
 In 1829, a volume was published in Boston bearing 
 the name of " Elements of Technology." This 
 name was not then in use, nor was it generally 
 understood except by those who drew its meaning 
 from its etymology. It was not in Johnson's Dic- 
 tionary, nor yet in Rees's Cyclopedia. In Worces- 
 ter's Dictionary, where it now has a place, no older 
 authority is cited for its support than that of the 
 volume aUuded to. Its analogue, indeed, was ex- 
 tant in some other languages, and, fifty years ago, 
 was published in Latin among the " Theses " of the 
 graduating-class of Harvard College. But its re- 
 vival for the use of English readers had to be justi- 
 fied by the assertion, that it might be found in some 
 of the older dictionaries. 
 
 Such, less than forty years ago, was the doubtful 
 tenure in English literature of a word which now 
 gives name in this city to a vigorous and popular 
 
 institution, a large endowment, a magnificent edi- 
 
 1 
 
2 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 fice, and at the same time a great and commanding 
 department of scientific study in every quarter of 
 the civilized world. 
 
 It has happened in regard to technology, that, in 
 the present century and almost under our own 
 eyes, it has advanced with greater strides than any 
 other agent of civilization ; and has done more than 
 any science to enlarge the bou^idaries of profitable 
 knowledge, to extend the dominion of mankind over 
 nature, to economize and utilize both labor and time, 
 and thus to add indefinitely to the effective and 
 available length of human existence. And, next to 
 the influence of Christianity on our moral nature, it 
 has had a leading sway in promoting the progress 
 and happiness of our race. 
 
 To appreciate what has been done by the applied 
 sciences operating through their dependent and as- 
 sociate arts, we have only to go back a little more 
 than two-thirds of a century, to the times of Frank- 
 lin and Washington, and in many cases to those of 
 our own immediate fathers. In those days of small 
 things, men were compelled to pass their lives in a 
 sort of destitution, which, in this age of scientific 
 luxury, would be considered a state of semi-barbar- 
 ism. The means of domestic convenience, personal 
 neatness, easy locomotion, rapid intelligence, agree- 
 able warmth, abundant light, physical as well as 
 intellectual, were things wished and waited for, but 
 not yet found. 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 3 
 
 To US, their effeminate descendants, it might be 
 painfully interesting to witness the efforts of those 
 hardy and much-enduring people to procure warmth 
 in their dwellings, by the scorching and freezing of 
 their alternate sides, under the blast that swept 
 from many apertures towards the current of a vast 
 open chimney; and this state of things was hardly 
 bettered by the established zero-temperature of an 
 unwarmed church, or the irrespirable atmosphere of 
 a stove-heated schoolroom or country court-house. 
 Our recent progenitors read their dusky and infre- 
 quent newspaper by the light of a tallow-candle, 
 and groped their way through dark and unpaved 
 streets under the guidance oi a peripatetic lantern. 
 If in summer they desired a draught of cold water, 
 there was no ice ; and, if in winter they wished for 
 dry feet, there was no India-rubber. If in darkness 
 they sought for light, there was neither gas nor even 
 lucifer matches. 
 
 Men were stationary in their habits and deliberate 
 under their necessities. He who would communi- 
 cate with a friend in a neighboring State might do 
 it in. a week, provided he could devote a preparatory 
 week to seeking a safe private conveyance. And, if 
 any one had occasion to transport himself from one 
 town or city to another, he could do it on a trusty 
 saddle-horse, or, still more rapidly, in the organized 
 relays of the Boston and New-York stage-coach, 
 " Despatch Line," which undertook to put him 
 
4 LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 through in less than a week. They who went down 
 to the sea in ships could reach England from either 
 of the above-named ports in from one to two months, 
 if wind and weather were favorable. Literary pro- 
 ductions were written out with a goosequill, and 
 printed in a reasonable time by the labor of two 
 men toiling at a hand-press. Housewives plied the 
 spinning-wheel, the distaff, and the shuttle; and 
 webs of coarse texture grew into perceptible exist- 
 ence with a speed which might be compared to that 
 of a growing vegetable. Beef was roasted on a re- 
 volving spit, turned round by a man, a dog, or a 
 smoke-jack. And, what will hereafter be accounted 
 still more strange, garments were made by sewing 
 slowly together their constituent parts with a needle 
 and thread. 
 
 I have taken technology as a leading exponent of 
 the great advance which was to be made, and has 
 been made, during the lifetime of some of us, in 
 certain intellectual and practical improvements of 
 mankind, in supplying the wants, overcoming the 
 difficulties, and increasing the elegances of life. To 
 enumerate all these improvements would simply be 
 to recount the great steps by which our own age has 
 advanced to the elevated and privileged condition in 
 which we now see it. And yet, although the prac- 
 tical arts, in the hands of science, have taken the 
 lead in the great visible changes of the present 
 century, it would be presumptuous to call technol 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 5 
 
 ogy the only field from the cultivation of which 
 mankind have obtained abundant and unlooked-for 
 harvests. In every other walk or sphere of science, 
 literature, and refined humanity, the civilized world, 
 with unfaltering progress, has pushed forward, at 
 the same time, its dominion over mind and matter. 
 It is the object of the present remarks to show 
 that the amount of knowledge appropriate to civili- 
 zation which now exists in the world is more than 
 double, and in many cases more than tenfold, what 
 it was about half a century ago ; and that, there- 
 fore, no individual can expect to grasp, in thS limits 
 of a lifetime, even an elementary knowledge of the 
 many provinces of old learning, augmented as they 
 now are by the vast annexations of modern dis- 
 covery. Still farther : education, which represents 
 the threshold of accessible knowledge, instead of 
 being expanded, must be contracted in the number 
 and amount of its requirements, so that while all its 
 doors are freely kept open to those who possess 
 time, opportunity, and special aptitude or necessity, 
 a part of them at least must be closed to those who 
 do not possess those requisites. If in the days of 
 the ancient Greeks " life was short," while " art 
 was long," how is it now, when life is not longer, 
 but art, literature, and science are immeasurably 
 greater? How will it be in another half-century, 
 when new discoveries shall have arisen, commen- 
 surate in their results with those of electro-mag- 
 
6 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 netism and of solar actinism, of modern optical 
 combinations, and geographical and geological ex- 
 plorations ? How will it be with the discoveries 
 of neMy armed astronomers and the calculations of 
 geometers yet to appear; with revolutions stirred 
 up by chemists among elements that have slum- 
 bered together since the creation; with the aug- 
 mented conversions of heat into other force, driving 
 'innumerable mechanisms to minister to man's plea- 
 sure and power; and, more than all, how will it 
 be with the cumbrous, vast, and insurmountable 
 weight of books, which shall render literary distinc- 
 tion a thing of chance, of uncertainty, perhaps even 
 of impossibility. 
 
 A law which obtains in matter, obtains also in 
 regard to the mind and its acquirements, that 
 strength is not increased in proportion to magni- 
 tude. The static and dynamic strength of mate- 
 rials for the most part decreases as their bulk 
 increases. A column or a bridge cannot be carried 
 beyond a certain size, without crushing or breaking 
 its substance ; and a whale, if unsupported by the 
 surrounding water, would die from the pressure of 
 his own weight. A small animal will leap many 
 more times his length than a large one ; and the 
 integrity of his slender limbs will not be injured by 
 the exertion. The useful development of a tree is 
 known to be promoted by severe pruning ; and 
 where this is impossible, as in primeval forests, the 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 7 
 
 trees prune themselves, and attain greater height 
 by the death of their under branches, the insufficient 
 supply of sunlight being monopolized by the upper 
 and dominant members at the expense of the lower. 
 These examples, drawn both from inert and organic 
 matter, may serve to illustrate the corresponding 
 truth, that human intellect, though varying in ca- 
 pacity in different individuals, has its limits in all 
 plans of enlargement by acquisition ; and that these 
 limits cannot be transcended without aggregate 
 deterioration in distracting the attention, overload- 
 ing the memory or overworking the brain, and 
 sapping the foundations of health. 
 
 The school system of New England is at the pres- 
 ent moment our glory and our shame. We feel a 
 just pride, that among us education is accessible to 
 all, because our public schools are open to the hum- 
 blest persons. But, in our zeal for general instruc- 
 tion, we sometimes forget that a majority of men 
 and women must labor with their hands, that the 
 world may not stand still, and that all may not lose 
 by disuse the power to labor. We cannot train all 
 our boys to be statesmen and divines, nor all our 
 girls to be authors and lecturers or even teachers. 
 We ought not, therefore, to drive them into the 
 false position of expecting to attain, by extraordi- 
 nary effort, a place which neither nature nor circum- 
 stances have made possible. Many unfortunate 
 children have been ruined for life, in body and 
 
b LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 mind, by being stimulated with yarious induce- 
 ments to make exertions beyond their age and 
 mental capacity. ' A feeble frame and. a nervous 
 temperament are the too sure consequences of a 
 brain overworked in childhood. Slow progress, 
 rather than rapid growth, tends to establish vigor, 
 health, and happiness. It has always appeared to 
 me, that a desirable and profitable mode of school 
 education would be one in which every hour of 
 study should be offset by another hour of exercise, 
 required to be taken in the open air. 
 
 To illustrate the impossibility of making any one 
 what may be called a general scholar, we need but 
 to take a slight view of the extent and recent prog- 
 ress of a few of the most familiar and popular sci- 
 ences at the present day. Let us take geography, 
 which treats of the earth's external structure ; and 
 geology^ which treats of its internal. In the first of 
 these, the education of many of the present genera- 
 tion abounded in what are now found to be errors 
 and defects. We were taught that the Andes were 
 the highest mountains of the globe, and the Ama- 
 zon the longest river. Discoverers had then stopped 
 a thousand miles short of the sources of the Nile 
 and of the Missouri. The Columbia and the Sacra- 
 mento were geographical myths ; while a fabulous 
 Oregon, or River of the "West, was laid down on the 
 maps on the hearsay authority of Carver, displacing 
 what are now the Rocky Mountains, and entering 
 
the Pacific Ocean about latitude 48°. The existence 
 of the African Niger was known to the Romans ; yet 
 the Royal Geographical Society, until 1830, did not 
 know where it reached the ocean, though a hundred 
 Englishmen at various times had laid down their 
 lives in African deserts, in fruitless attempts to 
 resolve the mysterious problem. It was not until a 
 still later period, that the world knew that there 
 was a continuous Arctic Sea, or any thing like an 
 Antarctic Continent. 
 
 But if so much has been done in the more diffi- 
 cult and inaccessible parts of our globe, how much 
 more has been achieved in the parts accessible to 
 settlement and cultivation. The American Conti- 
 nent, tlae interior map of which was almost a blank 
 at the close of our Revolution, is now profusely 
 dotted with towns, cities, forts, post-offices, and rail- 
 stations, until the most diligent compiler of a gaz 
 etteer is obliged to pause in despair at the manifest 
 defects of his latest edition. 
 
 Geology may be considered as almost a creation 
 of the present age. When Werner visited Paris, in 
 1802, it could hardly be said to consist of more than 
 insulated observations, with a few crude and unset- 
 tled theories. But now it has become a great, or- 
 ganized, and overshadowing department of science. 
 In every language of Europe it has its voluminous 
 systems and its unfailing periodicals. Societies of 
 special organization carry forward its labors, and 
 
10 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 every country of the globe is traversed by its ob- 
 servers and collectors. The shelves of museums 
 are "weighed down by its accumulations ; and in its 
 palaeontology alone the Greek language is exhausted 
 to furnish factitious names for the continually de- 
 veloped spepies of antecedent creations. 
 
 Chemistry, in a limited degree, appears to have 
 attracted the attention of the ancients ; but of their 
 proficiency in this pursuit we know more from 
 their preserved relics and results than from their 
 cotemporaneous records. In modern times the 
 chemists constitute a philosophical community, 
 having a language of their own, a history of 
 their own, methods, pursuits, and controversies 
 of their own, and a domain which is co-extensive 
 with the materials of which our globe is made. 
 Many men, of gifted minds and high intellectual 
 attainments, have devoted their lives to the prosecu- 
 tion of this science. Chemistry has unravelled the 
 early mysteries of our planet, and has had a leading 
 agency in changing the arts and the economy of 
 human life. It ngw fills the civilized world with its 
 libraries, laboratories, and lecture-rooms. No indi- 
 vidual can expect to study even its accessible books, 
 still less to become familiar with its recorded facts. 
 Yet chemistry is probably in its infancy, and opens 
 one of the largest future fields for scientific cultiva- 
 tion. 
 
 Natural history in its common acceptation implies 
 
th"e investigation, arrangement, and description of 
 all natural bodies, including the whole organized 
 creation. If no other science existed but this, there 
 would be labor enough, and more than enough, to 
 employ for life the students and observers of the 
 world. Each kingdom of organic nature already 
 offers to our acquaintance its hundred thousand 
 specific forms ; and these are but the vanguard of a 
 still greater multitude believed to cover the surface 
 of countries yet unexplored, and to fiU the myste- 
 rious recesses not yet penetrated by the microscope. 
 And, as far as we know, every one of these organ- 
 isms, great or smaU, carries with it its parasites, to 
 which it affords habitation and food, and which may 
 be supposed not only to double, but to multiply in 
 an unknown ratio, its original numbers. Again, 
 when we reflect that every one of these species has 
 its own anatomy, its physiology, its peculiar chemis- 
 try, its habits, its sensations, its modes of reproduc- 
 tion, its nutrition, its duration, its metamorphoses, 
 its diseases, and its final mode of destruction, we 
 may well despair of knowing much of the whole, 
 when a single species might furnish materials of 
 study for a human lifetime. 
 
 The foregoing are examples of the claim on our 
 attention and study advanced by a portion only of 
 the progressive sciences. They serve to develop 
 truths and laws appertaining to the material earth, 
 which truths and laws must have existed had there 
 
12 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 never been minds to study them. The relations of 
 number and figure, the laws of motion and rest, 
 of gravity and afiinlty, of animal and vegetable life, 
 must have been the same, had the dominant race of 
 man never appeared on earth. But there is another 
 extensive class of scientific pursuits,, the subjects of 
 which are drawn from his own nature. • He has 
 devised metaphysics to illustrate the operations of 
 his own mind. He has introduced ethical and 
 political science to promote order and happiness, 
 and military science to assist, for a time at least, in 
 destroying both. He has built up history with " her 
 volumes vast," which volumes are as yet a small 
 thing compared with those that are to come. Un- 
 der the name of news, the press daily inundates the 
 world with a million sheets of cotemporaneous his- 
 tory; for history and news, under small qualifica- 
 tions, are identical. The annals of the last four 
 years may deserve as large a place in the attention 
 of mankind as was due when the poet informed the 
 Egyptian mummy, that, since his decease, " a Roman 
 empire had begun and ended." The greatest part 
 of what should have been history is unwritten, 
 and of what has been written the greatest part is of 
 little general value. If all that has actually been 
 committed to papyrus, parchment, or paper had by 
 chance been preserved from the effects of time and 
 barbarism, the aggregate would be so vast, and the 
 interest so little, that the busy world could hardly 
 
turn aside for its examination from more absorbing 
 and necessary pursuits. 
 
 But the world is not contented with history which 
 states, or professes to state, the progress, arts, dates, 
 successes, and failures of distinguished men and 
 nations. It requires further the supplementary aid 
 of fiction, which finds facts, not in testimony, but 
 in probability; not as they are recorded to have 
 happened, but as they ought to have happened 
 under the circumstances and with the actors. Mo- 
 tion, moreover, not being restrained by the limits of 
 circumstantial truth, is at liberty to seek embel- 
 lishment from exaggeration, from ornament, from 
 poetry, from dramatic utterance, and passionate ex- 
 pression. Hence it has taken the lead in modern 
 literature, and it is not probable that at this day the 
 most accomplished bibliographer or bookseller could 
 point the way to one-half of its multiplied and per- 
 ishaihle productions. 
 
 There is neither time nor inducement to refer to 
 the pseudo-sciences, which in all ages have made 
 serious drafts upon the limited lifetime of man ; nor 
 to the ephemeral and unprofitable issues which con- 
 jsume his time and labor, and wear out his strength. 
 At the present day we have not much "to fear from 
 alchemy, palmistry, or astrology, nor yet from spiri- 
 tualism, homoeopathy, or Mormonism. But it is 
 not easy to prevent men from wasting their time in 
 the pursuit of shadows ; from substituting exceptions 
 
14 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 for general laws ; from believing things, not because 
 tbey are probable, but because they are wonderful 
 and entertaining. Still less can we divert them from 
 yielding to the guidance of an excited will, from fol- 
 lowing prejudices or creating them, from adopting 
 one side of a controversy or party strife for no bet- 
 ter reason than that some other party has adopted 
 the opposite. 
 
 It would be unnecessary to add to what has al- 
 ready been said, even an inventory of other studies 
 which present seducing but interminable claims on 
 the life and labor of man. It would be vain to 
 open the flood-gates of philology, and to follow the 
 thousand rills of language which have intersected 
 and -troubled each other ever since they left their 
 fountains at Babel. And we pause in humility 
 before the very portals of astronomy, which has 
 revealed to us that we roll and revolve, and perhaps 
 again revolve, around we know not what. And, 
 helpless as animalcules on the surface of a floating 
 globule, we are ever striving to see, to explore, and 
 to mark our way through the " starry dust " of in- 
 finite space. Strong and devoted minds have piled 
 up unreadable tomes, the result of their life-lonat 
 studies and observations ; yet few, save the profes-'' 
 sional and the initiated, attempt to invade the re- 
 condite sanctuary of their deposit. 
 
 Thus the immense amount of knowledge, general 
 and special, true and fictitious, salutary and detri- 
 
mental, the record of which is already in existence, 
 has grown into an insurmountable accumulation, a 
 terra incognita, which, from its very magnitude, is 
 inaccessible to the inquiring world. Hence the 
 economy of the age has intrpduced the labor-saving 
 machinery of periodical literature, which, by substi- 
 tuting compendiums and reviews for the more bulky 
 originals, has seemed to smooth the up-hill track of 
 knowledge, and lighten the Sisyphean load of its 
 travellers. But periodical literature, useful or frivo- 
 lous as it may be, and indispensable as it undoubt- 
 edly is, has become, by its very success, inflated 
 to an enormous growth, and bids fair in its turn to 
 transcend the overtaxed powers of attention of those 
 for whose use it is prepared. Like our street cars, 
 while it helps forward to their destination a multi- 
 tude of struggling pedestrians, it substitutes pres- 
 sure for exercise, and does not save the fatigue of 
 those who are still obliged to stand that they may 
 go. In looking forward to another century, it is 
 curious to consider who will then review the re- 
 views, and condense, redact, ahd digest the com- 
 pends of compendiums, from which the life has 
 already been pressed out by previous condensation. 
 
 Since these things are so, — since, in the dying 
 words of Laplace, "The known is little, but the 
 unknown is immense," and — 
 
 " Since life can little more supply 
 Than just to look about us and to die," — 
 
16 
 
 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 it is a question of paramount importance hoTi 
 this short period, education can be made to con( 
 most to the progress, the eflSciency, the virtue, 
 the welfare of man. 
 
 It is not presumptuous to say, that educatioi 
 be useful, must, as far as possible, be made i 
 pie, limited, practicable, acceptable to the lear 
 adapted to his character and wants, and broi 
 home to his particular case by subdivision and s 
 tion. What is now called a liberal education : 
 term which means something and nothing. Am 
 us it generally implies an attendance for four yc 
 (Upon the " curriculum," or course of studies, 
 scribed and pursued in some incorporated coUeg 
 university. This attendance may be punctual 
 thorough, or it may be negligent and unprofital 
 so that while one student makes a limited acqi 
 ment of multifarious knowledge, another forgel 
 great part of what he knew on entering the colli 
 and prepares to forget the rest as soon as he en 
 upon active life. 
 
 Subdivision and selection afford the principal t 
 nues through which men arrive^ at success in 
 humbler, as well as the more conspicuous, walks 
 life. The mechanical labor of artisans is best ] 
 formed, and its best results obtained, by distril 
 ing its duties aipong a multitude of special ager 
 and this is more or less successfully done, in pro] 
 tion as a society or a craft is more or less perfei 
 
organized. So likewise in the higher or more intel- 
 lectual pursuits of life, in which men procure bread 
 by the labor of their heads instead of their hands, 
 the number of learned professions has been within 
 a short time wonderfully increased. In the days of 
 our fathers, the learned professions were accounted 
 three in number, — Law, Physic, and Divinity. But 
 now more than three times that number afford 
 means of honorable subsistence to multitudes of 
 duly educated persons. We have now a profession 
 of authors, of editors, of lecturers, of teachers, of 
 engineers, of chemists, of inventors, of architects, 
 and other artists ; and to these may be added the 
 better class of soldiers and politicians. And all 
 these professions are again subdivided in proportion 
 as society advances in its requirements. 
 
 For precisely the same reason that it would not 
 be profitable for experts in a mechanical vocation to 
 distract and dissipate their attention among pursuits 
 alien to their tastes and qualifications, it can hardly 
 be advantageous for pupils and neophytes in learn- 
 ing, to undertake to make themselves competent 
 representatives of the various sciences, the literary 
 studies, the languages, dead and living, which are 
 now professedly taught in our colleges and semina- 
 ries. Every individual is by nature comparatively 
 qualified to succeed in one path of life, and com- 
 paratively disqualified to shine in another. The 
 first step in education should be for the parties most 
 
18 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 interested, to study, and, as far as possible, to ascer- 
 tain, the peeuliar bent and capacity of a boy's mind. 
 This being done, he should be put upon a course of 
 intellectual and physical training, corresponding, as 
 far as possible, to that for which nature seems to 
 have designed him. But in all cases a preparatory 
 general elementary education, such as is furnished 
 by our common schools, must be made a pre-re- 
 quisite even to qualify him to inquire. The more 
 thorough this preparatory training is made, the 
 better it is for the student. But, after this is com- 
 pleted, a special or departmental course of studies 
 should be selected, such as appears most likely to 
 conduct him to his appropriate sphere of usefulness. 
 Collateral studies of different kinds may always be 
 allowed ; but they should be subordinate and sub- 
 sidiary, and need not interfere with the great objects 
 of his especial education. 
 
 A common college education now culminates in 
 the student becoming what is called a master of 
 arts. But this, in a majority of instances, means 
 simply a master of nothing. It means that he has 
 spent much time and some labor in besieging the 
 many doors of the temple of knowledge, without 
 effecting an entrance at any of them. In the practi- 
 cal life which he is 'about to follow, he will often 
 have occasion to lament, be he ever so exemplary 
 and diligent, that he has wasted, on subjects irrele- 
 vant to his vocation, both time and labor, which, 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 19 
 
 had they been otherwise devoted, would have pre- 
 pared and assisted him in the particular work he is 
 called on to do. 
 
 Young men, as well as their parents in their be- 
 half, are justly ambitious of a collegiate education. 
 Older men often regret that they have not had the 
 opportunity to receive it when young. And this is 
 because of the generally acknowledged fact, that 
 four years, spent under the tuition of faithful, ac- 
 complished, and gentlemanly teachers, can hardly 
 fail to improve their character, language, and bear- 
 ing, as well as their store of useful knowledge. It 
 is the habitual contact and guidance of superior 
 minds, as well as the progressive attrition with each 
 other, which make young men proficients in recti- 
 tude, in honor, in science, in polite literature, in 
 tact, and in manners. And this result will appear, 
 whether they have been taught French at West 
 Point, or Greek in Harvard or Yale. 
 
 It is the province of the Institute of Technology, 
 so largely and liberally sustained by the Legisla- 
 ture, by the munificence of individuals, and by the 
 untiring- labors of its distinguished president, to 
 endeavor within its sphere to assist in providing for 
 the educational wants of the most practical and pro- 
 gressive people that the world has seen. By its 
 programme of instruction, a separate path is pro- 
 vided for all who require to accomplish themselVes 
 in any one or more of the especial branches of use- 
 
20 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 fill knowledge. It -would not be just to ignore the 
 fact, that the same thmg has long been doing in 
 several of our larger universities, where the practi- 
 cal sciences and the modern languages are exten- 
 sively taught. But these time-honored institutions 
 exceed some of their younger associates in this 
 respect, that, under the name of classical literature, 
 they premise and afterwards carry on a cumbrous 
 burden of dead languages, kept alive through the 
 dark ages, and now stereotyped in England by the 
 persistent conservatism of a privileged order. I 
 cannot here say much to add to the lucid, scholarly, 
 and convincing exposition of the state of education 
 as it now is in the great schools of England, given 
 in a recent lecture before this Institute, by one of 
 its professors, on the subject of classical and scien- 
 tific studies.* No one who examines this discourse 
 can fail to be impressed with the injudicious exac- 
 tions made in favor of the dead languages in the 
 English schools and universities, their insufficiency 
 as means of intellectual training, and their limited 
 applicability to the wants of the present advanced 
 generation. 
 
 I would not underrate the value or interest of 
 classical studies. They give pleasure, refinement 
 to taste, depth to thought, and power and copious- 
 ness to expression. Any one who, in this busy 
 world, has not much else to do may well turn over, 
 * Prtfessor W. P. Atkinson. 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 21 
 
 by night and by day, the exemplaria Grceca. But 
 if, in a practical age and coimtry, be is expected to 
 get a useful education, a competent living, an en- 
 larged power of serving others, or even of saving 
 them from being burdened with his support, he can 
 hardly afford to surrender four or five years of the 
 most susceptible part of life to acquiring a minute 
 familiarity with tongues which are daily becoming 
 more obsolete ; and each of which is obtained at the 
 sacrifice of some more important science, or some 
 more desirable language. It may not be doubted, 
 that a few years devoted to the study of Greek will 
 make a man a more elegant scholar, a more ac- 
 complished philologist, a more accurate and affluent 
 writer, and, if all other things conspire, a more 
 finished orator. But of themselves they will not 
 make him what the world now demands, — a better 
 citil;en, a more sagacious statesman, a more far- 
 sighted economist, a more able financier, a more 
 skilful engineer, manufacturer, merchant, or mili- 
 tary commander. They will not make him a better 
 mathematician, physicist, agriculturist, phemist, 
 navigator, physician, lawyer, architect, painter, or 
 musician. The ancient Greeks knew but little, 
 though they knew how to express that little well. 
 The moderns know a great deal more, and know 
 how to express it intelligibly. Antiquity has pro- 
 duced many great men. Modern times have 
 produced equally great men, and more of them. 
 
22 LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 It is common at the present day to say, that the 
 G-reek language disciplines the mind, extends the 
 compass and application of thought ; and that, by its 
 copiousness • and by its versatility of inflection and 
 arrangement, it trains the mind to a better compre- 
 hension of words, thoughts, and things. All this is 
 no doubt true, and might have great weight as a 
 governing motive in education, were it not that the 
 same ends can be more cheaply obtained by the 
 agency of other means. Unfortunately for the su- 
 premacy of classical literature, all civilized countries 
 are at this moment full of distinguished men and 
 women who write well and speak well, and who have 
 never acquired the learned languages. It is easy to 
 say that such persons would have been niore distin- 
 guished if they had known the classics. It is easy 
 to say that Laplace would have been a better mathe- 
 matician, and Faraday a better chemist, if by chance 
 they had been duly instructed in Greek. But this 
 is gratuitous assumption. The contrary result is 
 more probable, inasmuch as the pursuit of classical 
 literature would have abstracted just so much time 
 from more pertinent and profitable investigations. 
 At this day nobody believes that Watt would have 
 made a better steam-engine, or Stephenson a better 
 locomotive, if they had been taught philosophy by 
 Plato himself. 
 
 The ancient languages, if applied to use, are not 
 adequate to supply the wants of modern cultivation. 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 23 
 
 Truths and things have grown faster than words. 
 Modern customs, arts, aYid sciences can be expressed 
 in French or German, but not in Greek and Latin. 
 A French writer. Professor Goffaux, lias -undertaken 
 to translate Robinson Crusoe into Latin. The trans- 
 lation is successful, as far as easy diction and pure 
 Latinity are concerned. But the language of the 
 Romans is at fault in the islands of the Pacific, and 
 new words must be coined to express, even imper- 
 fectly, things which are not coeval with the language 
 employed. The world-renowned " man Friday " is 
 introduced to us under the vicarious name of " Ven- 
 dredi," and when Friday goes a-shooting he loads 
 his " sclopetum " with " pulvis nitralis." If modern 
 Greece should ever become a first-class power among 
 the nations, it will have to complete, as it is now 
 trying to do, a vocabulary of new terms to express 
 the arts and commerce, the facts and fancies, the 
 business and belles lettres, of the existmg time. In 
 other words, it must re-enforce its language with a 
 new half, not found in the ancient classics. 
 
 ' The admiration of the old Romans for the Greek 
 language and literature had its origin in the fact, 
 that, in that age of limited civilization, they found 
 not much else of the kind to admire. They looked 
 to Greece as the fountain of what had been achieved 
 in art, philosophy, poetry, and eloquence. Of con- 
 sequence it was chosen as the great place of resort 
 for educational objects, and Athens became the em- 
 
24 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 porium of literary and philosophic instruction. But 
 the Roman youth would never have been sent to 
 Athens, had there been, as now, a railroad to take 
 them to Paris, or a steamship to -bring them to 
 America. They would not have consumed their 
 time in the groves of Academus, if they could have 
 gained admittance to the Ecole Polytechnique, or to 
 the Royal Institution. 
 
 At the present day, we relish the Greek language, 
 from the mingled impression, not only of its own 
 superiority, but of the pleasure it gives us and the 
 pains it has cost us. We relish it as the musician 
 enjoys his music, the mathematician his geometry, 
 and the antiquarian his diggings. We are pleased 
 that it has been preserved with its euphonious into- 
 nations, its copious expressiveness, and its noble lit- 
 erature. We know that the spirit of Homer cannot 
 be translated into English, any more than the soul 
 of Shakspeare can be done into Greek. All lan- 
 guages have their idiomatic expressions of thought, 
 and in all of them translation has a killing effect on 
 the strong points of literature. In the opera of 
 Macbetto, the term " heU-broth," in the witch-scene, 
 is rendered in Italian as " polto inferno." And, on 
 the opposite page of the libretto, it is served up 
 afresh in English as " infernal soup." It is highly 
 probable that the half-savage accomplishments of 
 Homer's heroes and gods cannot be made duly ap- 
 preciable in the English tongue. Nevertheless, the 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 25 
 
 modern world can get on without them ; and we may 
 be excused for believing, that, if the study of Greek 
 should be abandoned as a requisite in our univer- 
 sities, — although it would still be cultivated, like 
 othfer exceptional studies, with success and delight 
 by many devotees, — yet our practical, bustling, aud 
 overcrowded generation would never again postpone 
 more useful occupations to adopt it as an indispen- 
 sable academical study. 
 
 In regard to success in the world at the present 
 day, it is not an academic education, however de- 
 sirable in any shape it may be, that gives a man 
 access to the confidence and general favor of his 
 fellow-men, or to the influential posts of society. It 
 is native talent, reliability, perseverance, and indom- 
 itable will, that conduct him to the high places of the 
 world. In all countries, and most of all in our own 
 country, a contest* continually goes on between aca- 
 demic education and self-education, — the education 
 that comes from without and the education that comes 
 from within. The much-cultivated boy, who, under 
 favor of advantages, performs faithfully his allotted 
 tasks, who fulfils the requirements of his teachers, 
 who is accustomed to subordinate his own judgment 
 to the dictation of others, — although he may hold a 
 high rank in the scale of proficiency and the amount 
 of acquisition, is liable, on arriving at manhood, to 
 continue to lean rather than to lead, and thence to 
 occupy a secondary place in the struggle for worldly 
 
26 LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 distinction. On the other hand, the neglected but 
 independent yovith, who is brought up in the sug- 
 gestive school of necessity, who becomes original 
 and inventive because his life is a continued contest 
 with dif&culties, who balances character against op- 
 portunity, and individual vigor and patience against 
 external guidance, — ; such an one, from the habit of 
 directing himself, becomes more competent to direct 
 others, and to wear more easily offices of trust and 
 responsibility. It is remarkable how many of otir 
 distinguished men have been self-educated, or at 
 least without academic education. Franklin was a 
 philosopher, Washington a statesman, Patrick Henry 
 an orator, but not by the gi'ace of classical educa- 
 tion. Henry Clay knew nothing of the Greek laur 
 guage, nor did probably Thomas Benton. Andrew 
 Jackson and Andrew Johnson had rougher nursing 
 than that of an alma mater. Rumford, Bowditch, 
 and Pulton did not develop their intellects under the 
 shades of academic seclusion. And, if we were to 
 go abroad for examples, we should find that Napo- 
 leon was no classical scholar; and that Peter the 
 Great, when he issued from his lair at Moscow to 
 study the civilization of Western Europe, did not 
 repair to th^ Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, 
 but entered as a working mechanic in the shipyards 
 of Saardam and Deptford. 
 
 We need not regret that our country is the field 
 of wholesome competition between the well-taught 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 27 
 
 and the self-taught ; between advantage on the one 
 side, and energy on the other ; between early devel- 
 opment under assistance, and slow maturity under 
 difficulties. The success of either condition awakens 
 and stimulates the zeal of the other.* 
 
 * Lord Jeffrey, in his review of Franklin's Works (Edinburgh Review, 
 1806), makes the following remarks: "Regular education, we think, is 
 unfavorable to vigor or originality of understanding. Like civilization, 
 it makes society more intelligent and agreeable ; but it levels the distinc- 
 tions of nature. It strengthens and assists the feeble ; but it deprives the 
 strong of his triumph, and oasts down the hopes of the aspiring. It accom- 
 plishes this, not only by training up the mind in an habitual veneration 
 for authorities, but, by leading us to bestow a disproportionate degree of 
 attention upon studies that are only valuable as keys or instruments for 
 the understanding, they come at last to be regarded as ultimate objects of 
 pursuit; and the means of education are absurdly mistaken for its end. 
 How many powerful understandings have been lost in the Dialectics of 
 Aristotle ! And of how much good philosophy are we daily defrauded, 
 by the preposterous error of taking a knowledge of prosody for usefiil 
 learning! The mind of a man who has escaped this training will at 
 least have fair-play. Whatever other errors he may fall into, he will be 
 safe at least from these infatuations ; and if he thinks proper, after he grows 
 up, to study Greek, it will, probably be for some better purpose than to 
 become critically acquainted with its dialects. His prejudices wiU be 
 those of a man, and not of a schoolboy ; and his speculations and con- 
 clusions will be independent of the maxims of tutors, and the oracles of 
 literary patrons. 
 
 " The consequences of living in a refined and literary community are 
 nearly of the same kind with those of a regular education. There are so 
 many critics to be satisfied, so many qualifications to be established, 
 so many rivals to encounter, and so much derision to be hazarded, that a 
 young man is apt to be deterred from so perilous an enterprise, and led 
 to seek for distinction in some safer line of exertion. He is discouraged 
 by the fame and the perfection of certain models and favorites, who are 
 always in the mouths of his judges; and, ' under them, his genius is re- 
 buked,' and his originality repressed, till he sinks into a paltry copyist, 
 or aims at distinction by extravagance and affectation. In such a state 
 of society, he feels that mediocrity has no chance of distinction; and 
 what beginner can expect to rise at once into excellence? He imagines 
 that mere good sense will attract no attention; and that the manner is of 
 
28 LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 
 
 There are many persons who, even in this age, 
 speak in terms of derogation of what are called 
 utilitarian studies, in contrast with classical and 
 ideal literature ; as if pursuits which tend directly 
 to the preservation and happiness of man were less 
 worthy of his attention than those which may be 
 founded in fancy, exaggeration, and passion. Poe- 
 try, art, and fiction have sought for the beautiful 
 and sublime in creations which are imaginary and 
 often untrue, which " o'er inform the pencil and the 
 pen," and attract because they are mysterious and 
 inaccessible. But, in the present age, fact has over- 
 taken fancy and passed beyond it. We have no 
 need to create new miracles, or to imagine them, 
 when the appetite for wonder is more than satiated 
 with reality, and objects of delight and amazement 
 confront us in the walks, of daily life. I know 
 nothing in nature or art more beautiful than a rail- 
 road train, when it shoots by us with a swiftness 
 that renders 'its inmates invisible, and winds off its 
 sinuous way among mountains and forests, spanning 
 
 much more importance than the matter in a candidate for public admira- 
 tion. In his attention to the manner, the matter is apt to be neglected ; 
 and, in his solicitude to please those who require elegance of diction, 
 brilliancy of wit, or harmony of periods, he is in some danger of forget- 
 ting that strength of reason and accuracy of observation by which he first 
 proposed to recommend himself. His attention, when extended to so 
 many collateral objects, is no longer vigorous or collected; the stream, 
 divided into so many channels, ceases to flow either deep or strong ; he 
 becomes an unsuccessful pretender to fine writing, or is satisfied with the 
 frivolous praise of elegance or vivacity," 
 
LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 29 
 
 abysses, cleaving hills asunder, and travelling on- 
 ward to its destination, steadily, smoothly, unerr- 
 ingly, as a migratory bird advances to the polar 
 regions. And I know of nothing more sublime than, 
 in the hold of an ocean steamship, to look on the 
 mightiest enginery that has been raised by man, as 
 it wields its enormous limbs like a living thing, and 
 heaves and pants and rolls and plunges, urged 
 onward by the struggling of the imprisoned ele- 
 ments. 
 
 The traveller passes daily by the never-ending 
 rows of posts and wires which mark the pathway of 
 the electric telegraph, until at length, by their very 
 frequency, they are blended in the inert features of 
 the landscape, and cease to attract attention. Yet, 
 all the while, invisible thought is riding on those 
 wires, and mind is answering to mind over a thou- 
 sand miles of distance. 
 
 The half-fabulous siege of Troy has been made 
 immortal in the epics of Homer and Virgil, and we 
 are led by their poetry to admire the achievements 
 of heathen gods and of heroes descended from them. 
 We stand in awe at the exploits of primitive war- 
 riors, with the same emotions with which we after- 
 wards mark in history the real deeds and eras of 
 great military commanders. But, however much 
 we may be impressed with the imagined spectacle 
 of a host of disciplined barbarians fightuig with 
 swords and bucklers, we cannot keep out of sight 
 
30 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 that they ■would have been chaff before the -wind 
 in the presence of. modern military science. Ulys- 
 ses and Agamemnon were ten years in taking the 
 city of Troy. Ulysses Grant with his batteries 
 would have taken it in ten minutes. Artists, his- 
 torians, and poets depict even now the memorable 
 battles of Alexander and Caesar. But half a dozen 
 shells would have scattered the Macedonian phalanx, 
 and the Roman empire could not have stood many 
 days after a modern war-steamer should have found 
 its way up the Tiber. 
 
 The march of military improvement has not yet 
 halted in its course. The great war of American 
 conservation has been eminently a war of science, 
 and has changed by its inventions the whole face of 
 modern conflicts. Huge forts and strong war-ships 
 no longer protect harbors from the inroads of invul- 
 nerable enemies. The wooden walls of England, so 
 long her defence and her boast, — like the walls of 
 Jericho, have fallen flat before the sound of the dis- 
 tant crashing of rams and monitors and torpedoes. 
 If the time shall ever come when classical readers 
 shall tire at the monotonous championship of Tro- 
 jans, Greeks, and Rutulians, they will kindle with 
 wonder over that miracle of romance and reality, 
 " The Bay Fight " of Mobile, by Henry Howard 
 Brownell. 
 
 It is the duty of educational institutions to adapt 
 themselves to the wants of the place and time in 
 
LIMITS OF EDUCATION. 31 
 
 ■which they exist. It needs no uncommon penetra- 
 tion to see that we are now living in a great transi- 
 tion period, and that the world is resting its future 
 hopes, and quieting its future fears, in reliance on 
 an educated and enlightened democracy. When An- 
 drew Johnson, at the inauguration ceremony of 1865, 
 somewhat hastily declared himself a plebeian, de- 
 pendent on the will of the people, and applied the 
 same impeachment to his fellow functionaries, — like 
 Paul of old, he was not mad, but spoke forth the 
 words of truth and soberness. The last few years of 
 history, the greatest and most momentous that the 
 world has ever witnessed, bear testimony to the power 
 of an educated common people to perceive and to 
 carry forward their own true interests. Against the 
 wiles of an astute and determined oligarchy, against 
 the frowns of foreign privileged orders, amid the vi- 
 cissitudes of good and evil fortune, this great people 
 have advanced to their final triumph, not of revo- 
 lution but of conservation, under the guidance of 
 men like themselves, — of men who had been cleav- 
 ers of wood and sewers of garments; who had 
 wrought as farmers, as tanners, and as homely man- 
 ufacturers ; who knew the genius and character of 
 their constituents, and the roads through which they 
 were to be conducted to natural and necessary suc- 
 cess. 
 
 At this moment, no nation of the globe can be 
 called more truly powerful than one which has 
 
32 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 peacefully absorbed into its interior depths half a 
 million of veterans, with discipline in their history, 
 arms in their hands, and education in their heads. 
 The most formidable ruler whom the world Jias at 
 one time known is a self-educated man, who could 
 hardly read and write at the age of twenty. 
 
 It is a fact so generally admitted, in this country 
 at least, as to have become almost a truism, that 
 prescriptive and hereditary positions are declining 
 in social influence. Personal unworthiness or in- 
 competency cannot be covered up by personal privi- 
 lege. It is better to be the founder of a great name 
 than its disreputable survivor. When a general of 
 Prance, Duke of Abrantes and Governor of Paris, 
 was reminded by others of the obscurity of his birth, 
 he proudly replied, " Moi je suis mon ancStre " (I am 
 my own ancestor). In this great and original coun- 
 try, which is now treading in the van of a new ref- 
 ormation, we have thousands yet untaught who are 
 to become ancestors in fame, ancestors in fortune, 
 ancestors in science, ancestors in virtue. May their 
 descendants be worthy of them ! 
 
 These are the men who may well claim to " con- 
 stitute a State." They are, as it were, the granite 
 substratum which underlies the rich coal-fields and 
 the arable soils of the earth's exterior surface. 
 Like that they will last when softer and richer tracts 
 shall have been swept away. Yet a continent as 
 extensive and various as ours should be capable of 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 33 
 
 furnishing all soils and materials for all needful and 
 desirable productions. When the necessaries -which 
 sustain life are provided, the- luxuries which adorn 
 and gratify it must follow in their order. " In every 
 country," says Buckle, " as soon as the accumula- 
 tion of wealth has reached a certain point, the pro- 
 duce of each man's labor becomes more than sufficient 
 for his support ; it is no longer necessary that all 
 should work ; and there is found a separate class, 
 the members of which pass their lives, for the most 
 part, in the pursuit of pleasure ; a very few, however, 
 in the acquisition and diffusion of knowledge." This 
 statement is a good exposition of the law which rules 
 in the affairs of this country ; it contains the danger 
 and the safety, the bane and the antidote, of our 
 social destiny. In a nation in which " the govern- 
 ment is made for the people, and not the people for 
 the government ; " whose fundamental requisite is 
 " the greatest good of the greatest number," — edu- 
 cation, elementary and practical, such as common 
 schools can furnish, must be made accessible to all 
 who can be withdra\^n, either from labor or idleness, 
 for a sufficient time to realize its advantage. After- 
 wards those whom favor of fortune or strength of 
 will has qualified to approach higher paths of intel- 
 lectual culture should be encouraged, assisted, and 
 excited to enter and occupy either one or many of 
 the more- difficult fields of literature and science, 
 preferring those that best harmonize with the adopted 
 
34 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 path which is to be the occupation pf life. And as 
 to the residuary class, not numerous in any country, 
 to ■whom is left the option of pursuing pleasure or 
 knowledge, it is fortunate when there is judgment 
 enough to perceive that these two objects can be 
 identified in one pursuit. Knowledge is never so 
 successfully cultivated as when it becomes a pleas- 
 ure ; and no pleasure is more permanent than the 
 successful pursuit of knowledge, combined, as it 
 should be, with moral progress. Natural gifts and 
 variations of aptitude qualify men to tread with 
 advantage the special paths of art and science ; and 
 such gifts are most . frequently born in and with 
 them, and cannot be imparted from without. A 
 musical ear, an artistic eye, and a poetic sense, 
 are not to be created in any man. We might as 
 well expect to endow him with the sagacity of the 
 hound, the quick ear of the hare, or the lightning 
 sense of danger which preserves and insures the 
 perilous life of the summer insect. 
 
 The man of robust though ungainly frame may 
 make a firsl^rate laborer ; the slender, shy, and deli- 
 cate youth may shine in the walks of literature ; the 
 man of strong voice, and prompt and comprehensive 
 intellect, may take precedence as an orator. But 
 transpose these conditions, and we have a result of 
 mistakes and failures.. What God hath put asunder, 
 man cannot well join together. 
 
 I have dwelt on the importance of a special and 
 
LIMITS OP EDUCATION, 35 
 
 well-selected path of study as leading to success in 
 education, and not less in subsequent life. Never- 
 theless, the necess'ity of absolute confinement to 
 tliis path is to be accepted with great modifications. 
 A youth with vigorous and varied powers will not 
 easily restrict himself to a beaten track ; but, as his 
 mind grows, he will become discursive in his aspira- 
 tions. He will carry along with him, not only the 
 adopted or select pursuit which has enabled him to 
 serve, to impress, or to excel others, but he will 
 also be prompted, both before and after he has 
 grown up, to entertain himself and to extend his 
 relations with those who surround him, by devoting 
 his surplus time, which his very success has given 
 him, to the 'enlargement of his sphere of occupation. 
 Every professional man, however eflBcient and pros- 
 perous he may be in the discharge of his daily rou- 
 tine, must have, if he would not rust, some collateral 
 pursuits, -some by-play of life, in which he may 
 recreate himself and keep up a wholesome freshness 
 by intercourse with congenial minds, and at times 
 with the ideal world. Our country has been called 
 in reproach the arena of a cultivated mediocrity. 
 Happy would it be if all mankind could be brought 
 up even to that level. A cultivated mediocrity is 
 the boundless soil from out of which must spring 
 at times the vigorous and favored shoots of genius, 
 -^ sparse and exceptional though they may be, 
 yet sufiicient to supply the just needs of mankind ; 
 
36 LIMITS OP EDUCATION. 
 
 various and eccentric in their character, yet con- 
 spiring to dignify and ennoble our race. Men cannot 
 all be geniuses ; yet there are many in whom exist 
 the germs of art, poetryj and eloquence, the love of 
 beauty, the sense of the ideal, and the perception 
 of the unseen. These are the men who, when dis- 
 covered and brought out, delight, attract, and impress 
 the world; who are generally appreciated, though 
 not often followed ; whose presence and inspiration 
 are necessary to the enjoyment and the upward 
 progress of the human race. They spread the sails 
 in the adventurous and perilous voyage of life, 
 while others hold the helm and labor at the ropes. 
 
 Our country, with its vast territory, its inviting 
 regions, its various population, its untrammelled 
 freedom, looks forward now to a future which 
 hitherto it has hardly dared to anticipate. Let us 
 hopefully await the period when the world shall do 
 homage to our national refinement, as it now does 
 to our national strength; when the column shall 
 have received its Corinthian capital ; and when the 
 proportions of the native oak shall be decorated, 
 but not concealed, by the cultivated luxuriance of 
 vines and flowers. 
 
ON CLASSICAL AND UTILITARIAN 
 STUDIES. 
 
 KEAD BEFORE THE AMEEICAN ACADEMY Or ARTS AND SOIBNOES 
 DECEMBER 20, 1866. 
 
 J)CEING a few centuries past, the opinions of those 
 who seek as well as of those who distribute knowl- 
 edge have been divided between the relative claims 
 of ancient and modern studies ; by which are com- 
 monly meant those intellectual pursuits which pre- 
 ceded, and those which followed, the v acant period 
 of the Middle Ages. As there is no good reason for 
 believing that the bodily or mental vigor of the 
 Caucasian race is different now from what it was 
 two thousand years ago, our estimate of the relative 
 inducements to study the productions of times so 
 remote from each other m-ust depend, not so much 
 upon our deference to the especial genius that pro- 
 duced them, as upon the power of these works to 
 contribute to our present pleasure and advantage. 
 
 There are two points of view, in which the learn- 
 ing of past and present ages are usually, con- 
 trasted by those who would estimate their compara- 
 tive fitness as objects and vehicles of education, 
 
 [37] 
 
38 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 The first of these is the truth of the things taught 
 by them, and the value of these things as means of 
 human happiness and progress. The second is 
 their more strictly educational bearing, or the effi- 
 cacy of the things taught and of the language con- 
 veying them, viewed as means of developing and 
 strengthening the mind in young persons. Both 
 these considerations have had their weight in form- 
 ing the grounds on which preference has been 
 awarded at different times by different parties. 
 
 The privilege of acquiring education, and of con" 
 trolling the literature of their* day, has, iii some ages 
 and countries, been confined to a few, whose charac- 
 ter or position has placed exceptional advantages 
 within their grasp. In other times, and among dif- 
 ferent people, the opportunities of learning have 
 been more general, and the acquirement and diffu- 
 sion of knowledge, of consequence, more equal. In 
 the former case, education has tended to centre and 
 terminate in individuals ; in the latter, it has rather 
 been the property of communities, and has tended 
 to greater progress, extent, and stability in its re- 
 sults. When printed books were unknown, learn- 
 ing was necessarily controlled by the taste and fancy 
 of the few ; but since the introduction of the press, 
 and the multiplication of readers, it has shaped 
 itself more to the requirements of the many. 
 
 If the question between ancient and modern pre- 
 cedence were to be decided by the relative amount 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 39 
 
 of talent, time, and labor wliicli have been be- 
 stowed on the acquirement of knowledge, or per- 
 sonal accomplishment, by those individuals on whom 
 the interests of science and literature have devolved, 
 there might possibly be doubt in forming our deci- 
 sion. But if a comparison is based upon the amount 
 of their progress, and the actual worth of their 
 product, it is manifest that a few of the last genera- 
 tions have not only excelled, but greatly distancfed, 
 the collective performances of all those who have 
 preceded them. 
 
 Among the ancients, the labors of gifted and cul- 
 tivated men, when not expended on subjects of 
 local and temporary interest, were extensively given 
 to fictions, words, and profitless abstractions, rather 
 than to the augmentation of permanent knowledge. 
 With brilliant and fervid imaginations, with minds 
 capable of the profoundest studies and deepest ef- 
 forts of reasoning, and with extensive acquirement 
 of all antecedent leai-ning, the writers, orators, and 
 sages of those times expended their powers on 
 productions which, — although often captivating by 
 their eloquence, sometimes noble in their morality, 
 valuable as examples, and profitable as exercises of 
 the mind, — nevertheless, have hardly entailed on 
 us, their remote descendants, a debt of gratitude 
 for any solid and lastmg good, which we do not 
 now obtain as well or better from more accessible 
 sources. 
 
40 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 On the other hand, the general enlightenment of 
 mankind which exists in the present age, and the 
 advances which have been made by pur cotempora- 
 ries and immediate predecessors, in intellectual 
 power, and its material and social results, consti- 
 tute a state of civilization which lifts our own time 
 and generation immeasurably above all that have 
 preceded them. And the question forcibly arises, 
 why this progress and these advantages were not real- 
 ized hy our classical predecessors more than two thovr 
 sand years ago, when circumstances seem to have 
 been equally favorable for their development. The 
 answer is to be found in the general and unfor- 
 tunate misdirection of the public taste which pre- 
 vailed in ancient times, and which led men to ignore 
 the pursuits of progressive practical science, and 
 thus to avoid the paths which might have led them 
 to an earlier improvement of their state. There 
 was no want of refined literature, of trained elo- 
 quence, and of perceptive taste. Intellectual effort 
 was prodigally lavished whenever it was neces- 
 sary to persuade the judgment or to delight the 
 fancy. But utilitarian science and studies con- 
 nected with practical, tangible, material, and use- 
 ful things, did not comport with the supposed 
 dignity of the human mind. These were left to 
 mechanics, artificers, and slaves, and were thought 
 unworthy of cultivation by the more privileged and 
 polished classes of society. The developments of 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 41 
 
 Pompeii show that much empirical progress had 
 been made in arts which were not scientifically 
 understood, nor carried to their just maturity. The 
 machinery of luxury did not represent the machin- 
 ery of use. The conquest of enemies had not been 
 found -to be the conquest of matter or of mind. 
 Light was occasionally and fitfully kindled, but was 
 as often suffered to go out. Discoveries were begun 
 and abandoned in their incipient and abortive state. 
 It is remarkable that a Roman * once got so far as 
 to print his own name with a stamp, but was not 
 visited with the revelation, that, by transposing his 
 letters or types, he might print the name of another ; 
 and thus the discovery of printing was delayed for 
 more than a thousand years. 
 
 " The admiration," says Macaulay, " which we 
 feel for the emment philosophers of antiquity forces 
 us to adopt the opinion, that their powers were sys- 
 tematically misdirected ; for how else could it be, 
 that such powers should eflfect so little for mankind ? 
 A pedestrian may show as much muscular vigor on 
 a treadmill as on a highway road. But on the road 
 his vigor will assuredly carry him forward, and on 
 the treadmill he will not advance an inch. The 
 ancient philosophy was a treadmill, not a path. It 
 was made up of revolving questions, — of controver- 
 sies which were always beginning again. It was a 
 contrivance for having much exertion and no prog- 
 
 * Csecilios Hennias. 
 
42 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 ress." — " We belieye," says the same distinguished 
 writer, " that the hooks which have been written in the 
 languages of Western Uurope, dwring the last two hun- 
 dred and fifty years, are of greater value than all the 
 books which, at the beginning of that period, were extant 
 in the world." And in another place he says, " The 
 boast of the ancient philosophers was, that their 
 doctrine formed the minds of men to a high degree 
 of wisdom and virtue. This was indeed the only 
 practical good which the most celebrated of those 
 teachers even pretended to effect ; and undoubtedly, 
 if they had effected this, they would have deserved 
 the greatest praise. But the truth is, that in those 
 very matters in which alone they professed to do 
 any good to mankind, — in those very matters for 
 the sake of which they neglected all the vulgar 
 interests of mankind, they did nothing, or worse 
 than nothing. They promised what was impracti- 
 cable; they despised what was practicable. They 
 filled the world with long words and long beards, 
 and they left it as wicked and as ignorant as they 
 found it."* 
 
 For more than five thousand years — from the 
 beginning of history until about three centuries ago, 
 — the human race had made little progress in any 
 thing which we now regard as constituting mate- 
 rial welfare, or growth in power, knowledge, and 
 means of happiness. A persistent spell, which ha'd 
 
 * Keview of Bacon's Works. 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 43 
 
 rested on society ever since its beginning, still 
 clogged its advance, or diverted it into narrow and 
 unprofitable paths. The classic ages which suc- 
 ceeded to original barbarism had provided nothing 
 to prevent the world from relapsing into barbarism 
 again. And afterwards, when barbarism returned, 
 the scanty practical arts and limited literature, 
 , which held a difficult and doubtful existence through 
 the dark ages, were controlled by an exceptional 
 few, who from time to time assumed the precarious 
 tenure of authority or wealth, or, still more rarely, 
 of cultivation. But the mass of mankind grovelled 
 on, as they had been wont to do, in ignorance and 
 wretchedness. Human life was hardly a boon to be 
 desired. In the words of Hobbes, it was " solitary, 
 poor, nasty, brutish, and short." If examples of 
 brilliant genius or effective study occasionally 
 showed themselves at the surface of the world's 
 stagnant bog long enough to exhibit or leave be- 
 hind distinctive images, names, or monuments, they 
 finally gravitated into the universal equilibrium of 
 an unimproved and unprofited race, leaving the 
 wants of that race unprovided for and its miseries 
 unrelieved. 
 
 A " new philosophy," as it was sometimes called, 
 which received its first great development a few 
 centuries ago from the mighty mind of Bacon, and 
 which is but another name for utilitarian progress, 
 at length drew the attention of inquirers from bar- 
 
44 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 ren studies to those which promised substantial and 
 cumulative good. Fortunately for mankind, new- 
 objects began to attract the regard of scientific and 
 philanthropic minds. A new interest was kindled 
 and directed, which went on to spread until the 
 world was filled with a blaze of light, and the sphere 
 of intellectual vision was more than doubled. An 
 enumeration of the tangible results which have 
 already been achieved by this humane and practical 
 philosophy is, from the very magnitude and growth 
 of the subject, impossible to be made. It has, never- 
 theless, been attempted to embody in a picture the 
 harvest already gathered from the beneficent and 
 remunerative change which has taken place in intel- 
 lectual pursuits. 
 
 " It has lengthened life, it has mitigated pain, it has 
 extinguished diseases, it has increased the fertility of the 
 soil, it has given new securities to the mariner, it has fur- 
 nished new arms to the warrior, it has spanned great rivers 
 and estuaries with bridges of form unknown to our fathers, 
 it has guided the thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to 
 earth, it has lighted up the night with the splendor of the 
 day, it has extended the range of human vision, it has 
 multiplied the power of the human muscle, it has acceler- 
 ated motion, it has annihilated distance, it has facilitated 
 intercourse, correspondence, all friendly offices, all des- 
 patch of business ; it has enabled man to descend into the 
 depths of sea, to soar into the air, to penetrate securely 
 into the noxious recesses of the earth, to traverse the land 
 in cars which whirl along without horses, and the ocean in 
 ships which sail against the wind. These are but a part 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 45 
 
 of its fruits and of its first-fruits. For it is a philosophy 
 which never rests, which is never perfect. Its law is 
 progress. A point which yesterday was invisible is its 
 goal to-day, and will be its starting-post to-morrow." 
 
 Thus spoke the " Edinhurgh Eeview " just thirty 
 years ago ; and since that time men have learned to 
 write with the electric flash, to paint with the solar 
 ray, to destroy pain, to sew without fingers, to cross 
 the Atlantic without sails, or, even without cross- 
 ing, to hold conversation on its shores. 
 
 The languages and literature of ancient Greece 
 and Italy have for many ages engrossed the atten- 
 tion of scholars and educated men. In many coun- 
 tries, they have had a dominant and almost exclusive 
 possession of the educational field. Libraries have 
 been filled with the classics, and with the works of 
 their advocates and commentators. In England, 
 Germany, and in some parts of the United States, 
 they now hold a controlling influence on the public 
 mind ; and a knowledge of the ancient languages is 
 accepted as synonymous with scholarship and learn- 
 ing. The prominent writers of antiquity have by 
 acclamation been received as standards of literary 
 excellence. Like the canons of the Church, their 
 works have been approached with traditional and 
 unquestioning reverence. Metaphysical and philo- 
 logical writers have asserted for them a pre-emi- 
 nence belonging to no other language and no other 
 study. The labor of acquisition arising from their 
 
46 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 exuberance, flexibility, and complicated structure, 
 has been claimed as an advantage, both in an 
 SBsthetic and disciplinary point of view ; and we are 
 left to wonder, that nations possessing such early 
 and large accomplishments should ever have made 
 a retrograde step in civilization. 
 
 Yet classical literature, copious, majestic, expres- 
 sive, and musical as it is, has failed to perform its 
 desired mission of improving or ameliorating the 
 condition of the human race, from the want of any 
 solid and sustaining basis of practical utility. We 
 are compelled to decide the question of its relative 
 importance, not by abstract and metaphysical reason- 
 ing on its intrinsic capabilities, not by the oracular 
 declamation of its devotees, but by the simple expe- 
 rience of the past, taken as an exponent of the 
 probable future. 
 
 The first three centuries of the Christian era had 
 before their eyes the light of the classics and the wis- 
 dom of the ancients ; hut they went steadily from had 
 to worse. The last three centuries have had modern 
 literature and the useful sciences and ci,rts, and have 
 gone steadily from good to hetter. The next coming 
 three centuries will witness unheard-of progress 
 and revolution in many things ; and this prog- 
 ress and change will be greatly influenced by the 
 character of prevailing intellectual pursuits. K 
 the classics, which are stationary, predominate in the 
 educational world, we may expect less progress to 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 47 
 
 be made than if later literature and sciences and 
 arts, which are progressive, should hold a control- 
 ling influence in the same field. 
 
 Great stress has been laid, by the more exclusive 
 advocates of classical studies, on the peculiar fitness 
 and efficacy of those studies for training the minds 
 of young stiidents, and developing, enlarging, and 
 strengthening their powers, irrespectively of any 
 application to other use. That such an efficacy 
 does exist in these studies no one will probably 
 deny ; but it does not follow that such training is 
 superior to all others, or that it promotes the great- 
 est economy of the time of young persons destined 
 to varioxis pursuits of life. Education, in its largest 
 and most liberal sense, involves two things. It 
 means not only development of the mind, but also 
 the acquirement of useful knowledge, " by which 
 every rising generation is put in possession of the 
 attainments of preceding generations, and becomes 
 capable of increasing and improving this inheri- 
 tance." It is not enough that the prime of youth 
 should be spent in developing the mind, or in learn- 
 ing how to learn. It is much better to have combined 
 together the instrument and the object, the process 
 and a useful result. An ignorant man or child 
 might develop his mind somewhat by studying the 
 Algonquin language or the science of heraldry, or 
 by making himself familiar with the Talmud, the 
 Koran, or the Mormon revelation; but if, on the 
 
48 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 other hand, he should have devoted the same time 
 to acquiring the French language, or the science of 
 chemistry, or a salutary code of ethics, he would 
 have a doubly valuable result to show for his labor. 
 It is the same as in physical education, where he 
 might develop and increase his muscular strength 
 by continually picking up stones, and laying them 
 down again. But if he should lay them down in 
 some mode of useful construction, — a wall for in 
 stance, — or should remove them to another place, 
 where they would do more good or less harm, he 
 would have not only improved his muscles, but by 
 the same act would have created a valuable prop- 
 erty. * 
 
 No language, probably, possesses a more copious 
 and expressive vocabulary than the Greek. No 
 language apparently attaches by its inflections a 
 greater variety of modifications and shadeg of mean-, 
 ing to the same words. No language has afforded 
 to later times such an inexhaustible mine of terms 
 to express and define the conceptions and discov- 
 eries made by successive generations. It has been 
 called in to complete the nomenclature of ancient 
 and modern sciences and arts. Its euphonious com- 
 binations of mutes with liquids have fitted it alike 
 for the stately sentences of the orator and the melo- 
 dious measures of the poet. Its exhaustless wealth 
 of words has rendered it a reservoir of expression 
 for historians, philosophers, and dramatists. Yet it 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 49 
 
 may justly be doubted whether this very exuberance 
 of means is not sometimes, wlien in actual use, a 
 superfluity and incumbrance, rather than an advan- 
 tage. It has many features which most later lan- 
 guages do not possess, — such as a dual number, a 
 middle voice, a first and second aorist, and still other 
 inflective forms. Yet most of these things could 
 have been omitted without essential deterioration in 
 the works of those who have employed them. Or, 
 if they are retained, other forms and tenses might 
 in that case have been omitted as superfluous. In 
 proof of this, we may select innumerable passages 
 and verses, in the best orators and poets, in- which 
 these inflections do not happen to appear, and 
 which nevertheless are equally eSective with the 
 remaining sentences and verses of the same authors. 
 The more recent enlightened nations have not pos- 
 sessed them in their languages ; and neither Cicero 
 nor Chatham, Horace, Tasso,. nor Milton, have suf- 
 fered apparent detriment from their absence. They 
 were elaborated by the old Greeks into graceful 
 and pleasing results ; yet none of the current lan- 
 guages of cultivated Europe have perpetuated the 
 use of so cumbrous a luxury. The modern Greeks 
 themselves have dropped a large part of these ances- 
 tral inflections, and have replaced them, like other 
 moderns, by short periphrastic expressions. 
 
 At the present day, the study, the acquirement, 
 and comparison of a variety of languages have, by 
 
50 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 common consent, been made part of a liberal educar 
 tion. The speech of all nations, having been at first 
 invented by rude and ignorant people, is more or 
 less imperfect, redundant, or defective, as well as 
 crude, harsh, and unnecessarily difficult to acquire. 
 But, like existing standards of measure and value, 
 we are obliged to accept it as we find it; and, 
 if a perfect language were, to be invented to-mor- 
 row, the world would hardly take the trouble to 
 learn and use it^ Revolutions and substitutions of 
 races have alone been adequate to effect a radical 
 change of speech in a country. And though the 
 Latin may at times have been adopted throughout 
 some leading or philosophical communities, and the 
 French in certain courts and cliques, and even as 
 the currency of European intercourse, still the 
 uneducated and practical multitude in all countries 
 will persist in expressing their thoughts through 
 the vehicle of the same words which their fathers 
 had used before them. 
 
 Languages differ from each other in copiousness, 
 euphony, flexibility, and manner of construction. 
 It is therefore a profitable exercise for young stu- 
 dents to make themselves acquainted with a variety 
 of the forms, meanings, and arrangements of words 
 by which dissimilar people have given utterance to 
 their conceptions. Our comprehension of thoughts 
 and things is much assisted, when we have spread 
 before us the peculiar oral signs and combinations 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 51 
 
 ly which these diEFerent nations at different times 
 lave undertaken to express them. 
 
 In comparison with the rest, the two classical 
 anguages have been long and abundantly com- 
 aended, not only for their beauty and expressiye- 
 less, but for their peculiar structure, and for the 
 lis'cipline which they impose on students of tracing 
 lut and combining remote words and members of a 
 entence, which, though disjoined in place, are still 
 leld in their true relations by inflections of mode, 
 ense, degree, number, case, and gender. These 
 reserve the connection of the scattered parts, and 
 )ring these parts finally together with precision 
 md harmony. But the involuted and parenthetic 
 nodes of expression, which follow as results of this 
 iexibility, although they may often please us by 
 heir euphony, and surprise us by the dexterity with 
 vhich they are managed in unfolding delayed or re- 
 sondite meanings, yet can hardly be welcomed when 
 ve wish to expedite or facilitate the comprehension 
 )f the things expressed. On the contrary, the mixing 
 md deranging of clauses, epithets, and qualificar; 
 ions, and the postponing of essential verbs, often 
 Lcep the mind of the reader in suspense, if not in 
 !onfusion, until the dmouement of a long and com- 
 jlicated rehearsal. To take a familiar example : in 
 Dicero's commencing congratulation to the Roman 
 aeople on the overthrow of Catiline's conspiracy, 
 we have, announced in one sentence, the subjects 
 
52 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 and the objects, the manner and the instruments, the 
 causes remote and proxunate, the date, the descrip- 
 tion of the city, the greatness of the peril and magni- 
 tude of tlie deliverance, the debt of gratitude due to 
 the immortal gods, and to the orator himself, — all 
 to be carried along in the memory, until we at length 
 arrive at the effective participles and the terminat- 
 ing verb, when we again feel at liberty to breathe. 
 
 Now, as far as the object of language is the ready 
 communication of thought, it is at least more con- 
 venient to use those recent languages, which from 
 poverty of inflections require short settlements of 
 meaning, and which move directly on the main 
 points to be expressed. But if the object be to ob- 
 struct the readiness of perception, and to strengthen 
 the minds of hearers or pupils, by increasing their 
 difficulties ; or to obtain ornament and euphony for 
 the entertainment of cultivated classes, at the ex- 
 pense of facility to them and all others, — such an 
 end might doubtless be obtained in a variety of other 
 ways. If the fashion of the age should happen to 
 require that letters, advertisements, bills of sale, and 
 deeds of conveyance, should be written out in poetry, 
 the incumbrance would be a serious matter to those 
 who had the writing to do, at least until by practice 
 their minds should be educated up to the mark of 
 enjoying the beauty and harmony of their own pro- 
 ductions. The euphuists of Queen Elizabeth's time 
 no doubt increased their own satisfaction, and per- 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 63 
 
 haps strengthened their minds somewhat, by enlarg- 
 ing their vocabulary of expression. Yet neither 
 poetry nor euphuism nor classical arrangement of 
 words could be any substitute in our place and day 
 for direct, plain, practical English. And human 
 life is not so long, nor human leisure so abundant, 
 that we can afford to involve them deeply in any 
 exercise which does not promise a seasonable and 
 remuneralive return. 
 
 The question has been repeatedly introduced, how 
 far the Greek and Latin languages can be satisfac- 
 torily replaced in education by living languages 
 of European nations. Within certain limits, and in 
 many cases, there is no doubt that such a substitu- 
 tion may be usefully allowed. The old languages 
 are suited to some purposes, the modern to others. 
 In its educational bearing, every language during its 
 acquirement instructs and expands the mind. And, 
 if other things are equal, the living languages have 
 some claims which entitle them to preference over 
 those of former times. The living languages, and 
 not the dead, are wanted for the daily intercourse of 
 the world. The literature of every refined nation 
 already furnishes more desirable books than any 
 living man can read ; and the number of these books 
 is continually increasing, because they are the neces- 
 sary vehicles of cotemporaneous knowledge. The 
 living languages of cultivated nations are, for the 
 most part, reciprocally convertible into each other, 
 
54 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 but the dead languages do not furnish words suffi- 
 cient to express things and ideas which are exclu- 
 sively modern. How long the friends of classical 
 studies will be able to uphold them as a paramount 
 object in schools and colleges, to the partial exclu- 
 sion of other necessary things, during the many 
 susceptible years of youth, is a question which an- 
 other century may perhaps determine. It may be 
 admitted, and to a certain extent justly, that the 
 preference which has existed for so many ages in 
 favor of Greek and Latin studies, is caused by the 
 intrinsic and special aptitude of these studies for 
 exercising and strengthening the mind, and by the 
 superiority of the old languages over later ones, in 
 their idioms, modifications, and construction. But 
 in reality other causes beside those named have been 
 at work in upholding this long-continued ascend- 
 ancy of the classical writings. Foremost of these 
 causes is the prestige, the traditional and conven- 
 tional reverence, which, during many scholastic and 
 ecclesiastical generations, they have commanded in 
 most European countries. This sentiment has cov- 
 ered them, as it has the Catholic religion for ages, 
 with a shield of impenetrability, and a veil of rever- 
 ential awe. A second cause is the advocacy of 
 their trained votaries, the classically educated men, 
 who abound in all modern communities, and who, 
 like experts in other sciences, arts, and accom- 
 plishments, magnify their own vocation, and dwell 
 
UTILITAEIAN STUDIES. 55 
 
 ■with satisfaction on a feast of exclusive literature, 
 which is inaccessible to the unclassical world, 
 and which sometimes constitutes the foundation 
 on which their own distinction is supported. A 
 third cause is the fact, that we get our Greek and 
 Latin, as far as we get them at all, with but a part 
 of the peculiar labor which it costs to acquire a 
 living language. In the former case, we get only 
 the meaning of words ; in the latter, we must get 
 both the meaning and the pronunciation. It is true 
 that we obtain from the metres of the old poets the 
 quantities of their syllables. But of the sounds of 
 their vowels and the power of their consonants we 
 have no reliable knowledge. . In modern times we 
 know, that the sounds articulated by the vocal or- ■ 
 gans of different tribes are seldom reported alike by 
 different discoverers and interpreters who visit those 
 tribes. The Owhyhee of Captain Cook is now the 
 Hawaii of the subjects of Queen Emma ; and in like 
 manner Otaheite has become Tahiti.* The lower 
 Niger is called Quorra by the Landers, and Kowara 
 and Kwara by Earth and others. To what precise 
 effect the old Romans managed the position of 
 their tongues and palates in the articulation of their 
 words, notwithstanding the fragmentary sugges- 
 tions which we get from Quintilian, and a few 
 others, we shall never know. But we do know, 
 
 • It is said that the ia a prefix used by some tribes, and not by 
 others. 
 
53 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 that their present descendants in Prance, England, 
 Hungary, and- Turkey speak Latin in a manner 
 hardly intelligible to each other. If it were possible 
 that Cicero could at this day re-appear upon the 
 stage, we may safely assume, that he would be 
 astonished at the spoken jargon which we now com- 
 placently call Latin in our academic rehearsals. It 
 is somewhat as if an Italian should undertake to 
 declaim French or English in the manner in which 
 those langiiages are spelt. If a knowledge of any 
 Continental European living language were required 
 for admission into Harvard College, it would be diffi- 
 cult, in many parts of our country, to find competent 
 teachers to prepare the students to enter. But in 
 Latin and Greek there is no such difficulty, because 
 instructors are rendered competent by our acqui- 
 escence in their necessary incompetency. 
 
 Before we can be at home in the literature of the 
 ancients, it is necessary that we should be familiar 
 with their history, manners, and institutions, and 
 especially that we should accept and sympathize in 
 the -machinery of their religion. The heathen myth- 
 ology is always present, and frequently overshadows 
 every thing else, in the works of the great classic 
 writers. Abhorrent as this mythology and its su- 
 perstitions are to the enlightened views of the pres- 
 ent age, we are obliged, if we would enjoy the 
 classics, to surrender ourselves to the temporary 
 dominion of — 
 
trriLITARIAN STUDIES. 57 
 
 " Gods partial, changefiil, passionate, unjust. 
 Whose attributes were rage, revenge, and last." 
 
 We must train ourselves to an acceptance of beliefs 
 tlie most absurd, and customs the most revolting, 
 before we can fairly become naturalized in a " land 
 of lost gods and godlike men." And this transition 
 would not be easily made, if our disgust had not 
 been previously educated down in youth. " Many 
 things," says Lord Brougham, " with the Greeks 
 and Romans most venerable, have not merely lost 
 their sanctity in our eyes, but present contemptible, 
 and even ludicrous ideas to us : hence any allusion 
 to them, or any expression of the feelings connected 
 with them, or even a reference to the habits of 
 thinking which those feelings have produced, must 
 have an operation most unpropitious." 
 
 The fictions constituting the epic poetry of 
 Homer, Virgil, and their imitators, so far from 
 being consonant with the taste and sense of pro- 
 priety of modern readers, are, on the contrary, often 
 annoying, from the absence of all moral or poetical 
 justice. The claivalry of the feudal ages demanded 
 for its champions an equality of arms, appoint- 
 ments, and advantage. But there is scarcely in the 
 conflicts of the whole " Iliad " an instance of abso- 
 lute fair play. Every favored and distinguished 
 combatant is clad in supernatural armor, or else is 
 backed up by a patron or powerful ally, commonly 
 in the person of an unseen divinity, who of&ciously 
 
68 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 interferes to spoil the pending sport,. by warding off 
 a weapon, or raising a fog, wliich renders the obnox- 
 ious party invisible. Ajax rages, and prays to 
 Jupiter, but cannot find his enemies ; and, when a 
 recreant like Paris is about to expiate his crimes by 
 a merited death, he is suddenly caught up in a 
 cloud, and conveyed away to his mistress in some 
 safe and comfortable quarters, leaving to his wronged 
 and disappointed antagonist simply the consolation 
 of the baffled sheriff, — non est inventus. 
 
 The mystery attending the person of Homer, and 
 the obscurity which veils the Homeric age, has 
 given to the " Iliad " a human if not divine inter- 
 est, hardly surpassed in effect and duration by that 
 of the Pentateuch itself. A work, finished in its 
 character and wonderful in its poetic inspiration, 
 which preceded authentic history and failed to 
 record its own, may well stimulate the curiosity 
 and deep interest of the world. It appeared when 
 society was fresh and primitive, and struck its roots 
 deep in a soil unoccupied by competing growths. 
 It invented, portrayed, and exaggerated things ac- 
 ceptable to the age in which it appeared. It sounded 
 the depths of the human heart as it then existed, a 
 compound of savage impulses, grasping credulity, 
 and strong human yearnings. On this basis it con- 
 structed gods and heroes, and finished them with a 
 completeness and individuality of character not to 
 have been expected from the existing age and the 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 59 
 
 limited materials which that age afforded. The 
 miracle of its composition is exceeded only by that 
 of its preservation. Prom obscure and shadowy 
 beginnings, it has descended through nearly three 
 thousand years of accumulating homage, to receive 
 from loyal worshippers its apotheosis at the present 
 day. It is not enough that it was applauded and 
 held up as a model by the writers of antiquity. Its 
 fame had not c\ilminated till the nineteenth century ; 
 and we now see it occupying a throne in the schools 
 and universities, at least of England, of which the 
 steps belong to the very structure and machinery 
 of church and state. The word " learning " now 
 means a knowledge of Greek literature, and the 
 name "scholar" is accorded to none but those 
 familiar with the works of Homer and his country- 
 men. Within three years, at least six new metri- 
 cal translations of the " Iliad " * have been added 
 to the host previously existing. The Homeric 
 poems have been placed, by more writers than one, 
 by the side of the Holy Scriptures ; and Mr. Glad- 
 stone, the distinguished statesman and churchman, 
 in his voluminous work of " Studies on Homer," in- 
 structs us, that " the poems of Homer may be viewed, 
 in the philosophy of human nature, as the comple- 
 ment of the earliest portion of the Sacred Records." 
 Such is the extraordinary devotion, if not fanati- 
 
 * By Lord Derby, Blackie, Herschel, Dart, Wright, Simcox, and 
 others. Also of the " Odyssey " by Worsley, Norgate, Musgrave, &c 
 
60 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 cism, of the present day, which places the successful 
 and imaginative poetry of a semi-barbarous age 
 above all the acquirements which have since ren- 
 dered our terrestrial life worth possessing. Its 
 savage attributes, brute instincts, and exceptionable 
 morality, override the more modern sentiments of 
 humanity, honor, and Christian charity. The gods 
 who preside in this scenic exhibition are tainted 
 with every vice which has since degraded their sup- 
 posed subordinates of the human race. Cruelty, 
 revenge, deceit, hatred, unrelenting rancor, and un- 
 bridled lust, are the qualities which call for appro- 
 val in a generation professing to feel and practise 
 virtues of an opposite nature. An exterminating 
 war is undertaken for the sake of a vacillating 
 adulteress, and its principal heroes quarrel impla/- 
 cably about the possession of their female slaves. 
 Indomitable rage exalts and apologizes for all acts 
 of injustice and atrocity. The consummation of 
 heroism is to upbraid and then butcher a fallen foe. 
 Ulysses, the hero of the " Odyssey," on his return 
 home, winds up that poem by a wholesale slaughter 
 of his disorganized subjects, hangs up a dozen cen- 
 surable females in a row, and puts Melanthius to a 
 lingering death by gradual mutilation, much after 
 the manner of a modern Chinese execution, by vivi- 
 section into inch-pieces. 
 
 But there are lesser improprieties, which perhaps 
 find a parallel in more modern times. Diomede and 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 61 
 
 Glaucus meet on the field of battle, and, instead of 
 attending to their duty, which is to fight, they fall 
 into a long discussion about their pedigrees, and 
 compare the generations of men to leaves, — as poets 
 in all ages have done, fi:om Job to Dr. Seattle. 
 The interview ends in a trading operation, in which 
 one party gets a set of golden arms in exchange 
 for one of brass, the estimated value of which, by 
 the statement, is not a tenth part of that of the 
 former ; and although the bargain appears to have 
 been arranged by Jupiter, who took away the brains 
 of one of the parties for the purpose, nevertheless 
 it might at the present day have been legally ac- 
 counted a swindle of the first magnitude. 
 
 Achilles, having killed Hector, drags him by the 
 heels round the walls of Troy ; and in subsequent 
 days recreates himself by repeating the same pro- 
 cess three times round the tomb of Patroclus. This 
 classical tale, the stereotyped wonder of the school- 
 boys of Christendom, has its parallel in the story of 
 the Oriental Caliph, who, having cut off the head 
 of his enemy, afterwards occupied himself for twelve 
 hours in kicking it round his courtyard. 
 
 At the present day, men speak with enthusiasm 
 of the " revival " of "classical literature as the great 
 event, era, and landmark of intellectual progress 
 in modern times. Yet this so-called revival of 
 literature was not the production of any new light. 
 The best that can be said in its behalf is, that it was 
 
62 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 a partial return to the state of things that existed 
 in the Periclean and Augustan ages. And what 
 men knew in either of those ages was not a tenth 
 part of what they know now. Notwithstanding the 
 traditional acclamation which has lieralded tlieir 
 praise down to tliis time, we are not certain tliat 
 these people excelled their remote descendants of 
 the present day in any. desirable acquisition or ac- 
 complishment. In their gymnastic and musical 
 exhibitions, tliey seem to have driven, spoken, sung, 
 and danced with success, if not always witli pro- 
 priety. Their poetry, in its power of delighting the 
 ear or moving the passions, may have been equal to 
 ours, but was in no respect superior. Their foren- 
 sic and popular oratory was elaborate, powerful, 
 brilliant, and effective; and so at the present day 
 are those of every cultivated nation in Europe and 
 America. They had popular exhibitions of the 
 drama, both comic and pathetic. The Greeks had 
 bacchanalian orgies, and the Eomans gladiatorial 
 combats, in which they publicly butchered captives 
 in the presence of ferocious audiences, and threw 
 living victims to wild beasts for the amusement of 
 crowds of refined spectators. The untold horrors 
 of their slavery have not often been thought of suffi- 
 cient account to encumber minutely the pages of their 
 history. In their social relations they were licen- 
 tious and exquisitely depraved. In their domestic 
 habits they were primitive, destitute, and uncleanly. 
 
UTILITAEIAN STUDIES. 63 
 
 The absence of books and scarcity of writing made 
 popular education a thing of impossibility. 
 
 It is obvious, then, that, after the fluctuating con- 
 tinuance of a most imperfect civilization for some 
 thousands of years, a change, if it came at all, must 
 come, not, as it has been wrongly supposed, in the 
 form of a renaissance, or reproduction of any thing 
 that had existed before, but in the shape of a new 
 creation, a new laying-out of unexplored territory, 
 a new planting of virgin soil with seeds unknown to 
 former cultivators, of seeds pregnant with an abun- 
 dant harvest, with new fruits and flowers, worthy 
 of the acceptance and enjoyment of an improved 
 and appreciative race. 
 
 The Reformation, the exodus of Greeks from Con- 
 stantinople, the revival of letters, and the restora- 
 tion of arts, are familiar words which mark the 
 concurrent influence of di^erent agencies in revolu- 
 tionizing the social condition of men a few centuries 
 ago. They are so many instruments by which the 
 indispensable influence of Christianity has been 
 truly and slowly developed to the "world. But at 
 the root of all these agencies, and deep and far 
 beyond and above them, was the vivifying nurture 
 of utilitarian science. The world mainly owes its 
 present advanced and civilized state to the influence 
 of certain physical discoveries and inventions of 
 comparatively recent date, among which are con- 
 spicuous the printing press, the mariner's compass, 
 
64 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 the steam-engine, and the substitution of machinery 
 for manual labor. The materials and agents for 
 these and other like improvements have existed 
 ever since the creation of the world ; but the minds 
 of competent and qualified thinkers, being absorbed 
 in less profitable studies, had not been turned effect- 
 ively upon them or upon their uses. There was 
 electricity in the clouds, there were loadstones in 
 the mountains, cataracts- in rivers, and steam in 
 household "utensils. But the woi'ld rolled on ; em- 
 pires and dynasties and ages of barbarism passed 
 away, and left the minds of men engaged in super- 
 stitious rites, in scholastic studies, and in fruitless 
 or pernicious controversies. We owe the great debt 
 of modern civilization to the enterprising, acute, 
 patient, and far-seeing innovators who, during the 
 last few Centuries, have broken away from the pre- 
 scribed and beaten track of their predecessors, and 
 have given their energies to developing, directing, 
 and utilizing the illimitable forces of the material 
 world. If these very men had given up their 
 time to the objectless controversies of the schools, 
 or to the more easy. and agreeable studies of Latin 
 and Greek, ignoring the great and vital problems 
 of physical science, — the dark ages would still 
 have prevailed in Europe, and America might have 
 remained an undiscovered wilderness. 
 
 The mere lapse of time furnishes nothing to 
 human improvement. Neither does the endless 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 65 
 
 inculcation, on successive generations, of the obso- 
 lete studies of their fathers. Metals might have 
 slept in their ores, gunpowder in its elements, and 
 steam in its inertest form, until doomsday ; and man- 
 kind been none the wiser, if it had not happened 
 that sagacious and persevering discoverers, under 
 difficulties, persecutions, and perils, brought them 
 successfully to light, and laid them at the feet of 
 advancing civilization. It is not the perfected rail- 
 road train, nor the passenger who successfully rides 
 in it, that deserves our applause ; but it is the origi- 
 nal and comprehensive minds that planned, organ- 
 ized, and launched into successful operation this 
 great achievement of modern art. The telescope, 
 the press, the compass, the chronometer, and the 
 quadrant have wrought wonders for science and 
 civilization ; but the greater wonder is, how these 
 things got invented at all, after the world had run for 
 Jive thousand years in the beaten track of unproductive 
 routine. 
 
 It has been brought as an objection to the claims 
 of utilitarian science, that most of its alleged dis- 
 coveries have been lucky accidents, often made by 
 ignorant persons, stumbled upon by chance, and 
 not arrived at by philosophic induction or investiga- 
 tion. As far as this is true, it is also true of every 
 other step in the progress of human knowledge. 
 No science, no development of complicated truth, 
 no great advance in intellectual progress, has ever 
 
66 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 sprung full and finished into existence, like Adam 
 from the hands of his Creator ; but, on the con- 
 trary, they have all had their fortuitous and imper- 
 fect beginnings, their feeble glimmerings, their 
 uncertain and fluctuating advance, — their years, or 
 more frequently centuries, during which they have 
 groped their way to a distant and long-deferred 
 maturity. The first languages were made by bar- 
 barians, the first orations were spoken by savages, 
 the first poems were probably war-songs, the first 
 statues were hideous idols, the first histories were 
 fabulous, unless possibly we except that part of 
 them which is preserved for our edification in arrow- 
 headed characters. Hundreds of years, and many 
 introductory sciences, and many lives of labor, have 
 been necessary to conduct almost any great dis- 
 covery from its rude beginnings to its finished 
 stages. The steam-engine was not perfected in a 
 day, and the knowledge of the solar system was not 
 stumbled upon in a night. Some of the greatest 
 acquisitions of civilized life date back beyond tradi- 
 tion. The native country of wheat is unknown ; 
 and the inventors of the plough and the ship, if 
 known to the ancients, are not known to the mod- 
 erns. There were, doubtless, navigators who were 
 sailing before Jason, as much as there were brave 
 men living before Agamemnon. Antiquarians and 
 geologists are now enlightening us in regard to 
 things as remote as a stone age and a bronze age ; 
 
UTILITABIAN STUDIES. 67 
 
 but they have not yet agreed in settling the period 
 of the vinous age. The cultivation of the grape 
 was a memorable step in human progress, to which 
 we are indebted for some good and much evil. The 
 Greeks gratefully ascribe it to Bacchus ; but the 
 Jews rather give the credit to Noah, who planted a 
 vineyard, and drank of the wine and was drunken. 
 Yet neither Bacchus nor Noah could have produced 
 the genuine " article " without some antecedent 
 knowledge of husbandry for cultivation, mechanics 
 for presses and receptacles, and of chemistry for 
 fermentation. But, if it really happened that the 
 experiment and its subsidiary sciences went hand 
 in hand, it will serve to show that education of the 
 mind and realization of its substantial results may 
 sometimes be usefully combined in one and the 
 same process. 
 
 Horace says that we all write, both imlearned and 
 learned. The same truth equally applies to dis- 
 coverers. But, when sudden discoveries are made 
 by unprepared persons, they are exceptions to the 
 general rule of gradual growth, merely because their 
 cardinal fact is so simple that it does not admit the 
 consumption of time in its development. Thus a 
 man may learn to swim in five minutes, and a gold 
 mine or a continent may be, and has been, discov- 
 ered in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 The arts, the poetry, and the oratory of the an- 
 cients have with justice been made the subjects of 
 
bo ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 laudation in all times. But, as all refined nations, 
 ancient and modern, have had tljieir artists, orators, 
 and poets, and as subjects of the same class have 
 of necessity been presented to all, it is not apparent 
 that excellence belongs exclusively to any age or lan- 
 guage. Nor are we authorized to exalt any one at 
 the expense of degrading or overlooMng the rest. 
 
 Eloquence is not made in schools. Its elements 
 exist in the brain, the heart, the voice, the pres- 
 ence, none of which can be produced to order in 
 academic institutions. Where they have been 
 planted by nature, they may be raised, improved, 
 and matured by cultivation ; and, when these con- 
 ditions have been all combined, their manifestation 
 has become irrepressible, whether it has been on 
 the Bema of Athens,, in tlie Forum of Rome, the 
 Parliament of England, or the forests beyond the 
 Alleghanies. " True eloquence," says Daniel Web- 
 ster, " does not consist in speech. It cannot be 
 brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for 
 it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases 
 may be. marshalled in everyway, but they cannot 
 compass it. It must exist in the man, in the sub- 
 ject, and in the occasion." 
 
 Poetry has been produced in all recorded ages. 
 But not every person is qualified to judge and com- 
 pare the poetical productions of different times 
 and countries. The poet must be born; but the 
 critic must be born and educated. Our individual 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 69 
 
 capacity for pleasure and for dislike, in our esti- 
 mate of poetry, varies not only in proportion to the 
 qualities of the verse, the inspiration, and the com- 
 position, but according to our own previous acquire- 
 ments and our familiarity with the language in 
 which the poetry is expressed. Few men are equally 
 proficient in all the languages cultivated in their 
 time ; and therefore few men are properly qualified 
 to appreciate and compare Homer, Dante, Goethe, 
 and Shakespeare. But a man who has been trained 
 from childhood to study and admire any one of 
 these poets more than the rest, will not afterwards 
 be likely to transfer his allegiance and postpone his 
 adopted favorite to any oUier. An impartial judge 
 of poetry would, at this day, be as great a phenom- 
 enon as an impartial lover. Most refined nations 
 have had their great and favorite poets; and for- 
 tunately there is enough to applaud in the writings 
 of all refined nations and tongues, without invidi- 
 ous or exclusive verdicts of distinction accorded to 
 any one of them. 
 
 Good statues have been made in Greece, Italy, 
 Denmark, Germany, and other countries. The hu- 
 man form afibrds the same models for imitation 
 now that it &id two thousand years ago. It is con- 
 ceded that artistic beauty, in feature, attitude, and 
 expression, was first attained in perfection by the 
 ancient Greeks, and has not since been surpassed by 
 any of their successors. But the world is ever prone 
 
70 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 to exclusive man-worship and class-worship, and 
 often gives its oracular decisions as to the relative 
 excellence of works of art as it does on those of lit- 
 erature, — upon traditionary and often hair-breadth 
 differences of merit, which may be as undefined and 
 unimportant as the relative claims to beauty of 
 the oak "and the elm in the forest, or as the dis- 
 crepancy illustrated by Swift between Handel and 
 Bononcini. It is not probable, that, if a presenta- 
 ble representation of the human figure from any of 
 the above-named countries were submitted for the 
 first time to the most skilful critic, he could, by any 
 power of discrimination, decide on its paternity. 
 
 The classic architecture of Greece and Rome, 
 irrespectively of its adaptation to modern uses, has 
 probably received a more extensive approval than 
 any of the peculiar styles of construction yet known. 
 As architecture, unlike to painting and sculpture, 
 is an arbitrary art, whose forms have no prototype 
 in nature, the widest license is allowed to its char- 
 acteristic and decorative elements. Dissimilar na- 
 tions have adopted styles based upon their own 
 traditions ; and these have been afterwards altered, 
 modified, and combined by their successors, simply 
 because monotony palls upon the eye* and fashion 
 in architecture, like fashion in dress, is tljought to 
 require renovation. The great and typical struc- 
 tures of difierent nations, the pyramids, temples, 
 and cathedrals, are founded on the principle of 
 
UTILITAKIAN STUDIES. 71 
 
 worship, either of man or deity; and, after their 
 use has become general in a country, their fea- 
 tures are long adhered to from mere habit and per- 
 tinacity of national or sectarian pride. Thus the 
 Gothic style, invented in the dark ages, is claimed 
 by Pugin and other Roman Catholics under the 
 name of " Christian," in contradistinction from 
 •what they opprobriously call " Pagan" architecture ; 
 and the name of " English style " has in like man- 
 ner been usurped for it by certain authorities, 
 although the British cathedrals are generally later 
 and smaller or lower than the great examples on 
 the Continent. It is these accidents that have given 
 it at the present day a dominating prevalence in 
 church architecture ; and a perversely bad taste has 
 in like manner led modern copyists to select the 
 high, sharp roofs, which, from a distance, fill half 
 the field of vision with 'a blank surface of tiles or 
 slabs, in preference to the more beautiful and al- 
 most classical low roofs of York and Gloucester 
 Cathedrals, and King's College Chapel. 
 . But, after all, the great.practical principle of adap- 
 tation to a required purpose ultimately overrides 
 all interfering considerations ; and any style, judi- 
 ciously managed, may be made to combine the de- 
 sirable results of ornament, fitness, effect, and use. 
 The Greeks had the start of other European nations 
 in questions both of simple and decorative construc- 
 tion, — a vantage-ground which they also possessed 
 
72 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 in literature and in many other things. This prior- 
 ity of invention, added to earliness of full success, 
 causes us justly to look back to them as the great 
 fountains of correct and ori^nal taste. The orna- 
 ments and arrangements of classic architecture, 
 although not always suited to purposes of Northern 
 convenience, yet as they attended the birth, so they 
 have survived the decadence, of pure early art. The 
 world still pays undivided homage to the Athenian 
 Parthenon, — a useless monument of an abandoned 
 mythology, — and it recognizes in ruins the majesty 
 of "the shifting rows of columns which flank the 
 so-called Basilica of Diocletian, at Palmyra. Like 
 the epic poems of past ages, their construction is' 
 studied and admired; but their imitation is now 
 unsatisfactory, if not impracticable. 
 
 It has most commonly happened, that national 
 and sectarian prepossessions, quite as much as laws 
 of beauty, have given form to the architecture of 
 different occasions and countries. It was not with- 
 out difficulty that Michael Angelo, Sir Christopher 
 Wren, and others, replaced the mediaeval Gothic 
 with elements of the classical antique. Yet all 
 prejudices sucpumb under the influence of time 
 and moral change. If the religion of Mahomet 
 shall ever become as obsolete as that of Jupiter 
 now is, Christian churches of unquestioned beauty 
 will arise with Moorish windows, towering minarets, 
 and gorgeous Arabesques. 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 73 
 
 In its bearing on general studies, a knowledge 
 of the etymology of words is often a convenient 
 help in defining difficult shades of their meaning, 
 and imprinting them on the memory. But, as peo- 
 ple who are well versed in English literature gener- 
 ally write well and speak well the English language, 
 it is not indispensable for all students that they 
 should complicate their labor by learning the same 
 thing twice over, in different and sometimes discrep- 
 ant forms. A man who draws in his house the water 
 which is suitable for him need not trouble himself 
 to visit its distant fountain. The derivation of 
 words is often curious and interesting, but not 
 always important. A man who suffers a calamity 
 gets neither consolation nor useful knowledge from 
 the fact that the word " calamity " means a heap of 
 corn ; and a lady in a ball-room, who is apprised 
 that she is the cynosure of all eyes, would not 
 necessarily be raised in her own esteem, had she 
 been trained to understand that the word "cyno- 
 sure " means a dog's tail. Education has not retro- 
 graded since children at school ceased to learn the 
 table of etymological meanings of proper names in 
 the Old and New Testament. 
 
 The simple fact is, that the true meaning of words 
 is a thing which has got to be learned, in school or 
 out of it. Learners may arrive at this meaning 
 directly, by familiarizing themselves with the best 
 writers who use these words ; or, circuitously, they 
 
74 ON. CLASSICAL AND 
 
 may first study the languages of preceding nations 
 who used the roots of these words, and afterwards 
 attend to the vernacular writers who use the words 
 themselves. But there cau be little doubt, that 
 a better knowledge of the English language and 
 literature will be obtained by a person who reads 
 carefully fifty of the best English authors, than by 
 one who reads only half that number, and devotes 
 a corresponding amount of time to acquiring their 
 etymologies from older languages. All are agreed 
 that a knowledge of primitive words facilitates a 
 knowledge of their derivatives, and that one lan- 
 guage is often a stepping-stone to another. A 
 knowledge of Latin facilitates a knowledge of Ital- 
 ian, and the converse is equally true. Nevertheless, 
 after we have eliminated all the derivative words, 
 the stubborn fact still remains, that, as a labor ques- 
 tion, two languages are harder to get than one. 
 
 There were once great warriors on our continent, 
 whose mysterious names were by interpretation 
 " Split-log " and " Walk-in-the-water." Few of us 
 will ever know how sonorous and imposing were 
 these appellations when uttered in their original 
 tongues. But the students of afiQiiities and deriva- 
 tions will perhaps find them, when properly studied, 
 to be no less instructive and awe-inspiring than 
 the Homeric epithets, koruthaiolos, hippodamos, and 
 chalkokorustes. 
 
 The terminology of science has in modern times 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 75 
 
 given rise to a vast creation of words necessary to 
 supply the nomenclatures which mark and preserve 
 the discoveries of successive generations. The ex- 
 isting words of living languages are not well suited 
 to this purpose, inasmuch as ambiguity results from 
 adding new meanings to old terms. In this case, 
 therefore, it is better to resort to the dead languages 
 for our names, selecting such as are euphonious 
 and pertinent, than to invent artificial words which 
 might not possess these qualities. The smooth and 
 often melodious sounds which we take from the 
 Greek and Latin are more pleasing to the ear than 
 the harsh names wliich we have drawn from the 
 Arabic, German, and English. The word " alkali " 
 always looks uncouth ; and so does even the unclassi- 
 cal " potassium," when we call up its English origin. 
 The boundless nomenclature of Natural History bids 
 fair to exhaust the resources of all languages, as it 
 has already done of most brains that have set about 
 its amplification and its reduction to use. 
 
 In sciences as small as Pharmacy and Materia 
 Medica, many of the authorized books keep up a 
 double expression of names and formulas in Latin 
 and English. This superfluous custom has its 
 origin either in antiquated routine or in the myste- 
 rious importance which the vulgar are expected to 
 attach to the words of an unknown tongue. But 
 the ostentation of using a learned language is often 
 merely a cloak for ignorance, and leads to the 
 
76 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 abbreTiation in medical prescriptions of words which 
 the writers could not always trust themselves to fill 
 out at length. Even high pharmaceutical authori- 
 ties are not always immaculate in their Latinity; 
 and the London College of Physicians, in its " Phar- 
 macopcEia," expresses the genitive of the plant rose- 
 mary by " rosmarini," instead of the undoubted 
 rorismarini of the classics. 
 
 Lord Macaulay, notwithstanding the unfavorable 
 opinion which has been already cited from him in re- 
 gard to the philosophy of the ancients, has, in some 
 of his later writings, bestowed on the people of 
 Athens the highest praise for their great accomplish- 
 ments in oratory, poetry, the drama, and indeed 
 every kind of artistic and literary excellence. These 
 accomplishments, which all admit, were well suited 
 to the sensuous, impulsive, and ardent temperament 
 of the Athenian Greeks, who were an extraordinary 
 people, reared and ripened in the youth of literary 
 civilization. Prom their priority of culture, they 
 became objects of admiration to ancient imitators, 
 and have remained beacons of classical light in all 
 succeeding time. The sublime and comprehensive 
 eulogy bestowed on them by Macaulay, in his review 
 of Mitford's " Greece," has itself become classical, 
 even though the independent philosopher is, in this 
 instance, merged in the laudator temporis acti. "We 
 are carried along by his imperious and sweeping 
 assumptions, until we grow unconscious that it is 
 
UTIUTABIAN STUDIES. 77' 
 
 the reviewer, and not his subject, that is bearing us 
 away. It is one of those cases where the eloquence 
 of a great advocate gives dignity, worth, and irre- 
 sistible force, to any cause he may be employed to 
 defend. No one denies that the city of Athens, 
 within its narrow confines, held a great and won- 
 derful people. No one is disposed to deny, that 
 Demosthenes was a transcendent orator, Pericles a 
 great administrator, and Homer a surpassing genius 
 and poet. But if any one goes further, and says 
 there have not been equally great orators, states- 
 men, and poets in every prominent modern nation, 
 he commits a great mistake. It is not necessary to 
 go into the ostentation of enumerating great names ; 
 but we do not risk much in saying, that in the pres- 
 ent age causes are as weU argued, judicial tribimals 
 as cogently addressed, senates and popular assem- 
 blies as powerfully swayed, as they ever have been 
 heretofore, or probably ever will be hereafter. And 
 we may with equal safety assert, that the imaginative 
 works, the poems, dramas, novels, and other fictions 
 of the modern period, in their characters, scenes, 
 narratives, and pictures, take as powerful a hold on 
 the deepest sensibilities of our nature as any corre- 
 ponding productions ever did on the most cultivated 
 and sensitive of our predecessors. The tears of 
 Andromache, the grovelling of Priam, the wails 
 of Hecuba, and the wrongs and revenge of Medea, 
 wake powerfully our inmost susceptibilities. But, 
 
78 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 in deep pathos and delicate and unselfish tender- 
 ness, they are inferior to many hundreds of well- 
 known productions which have sprung from the 
 refined literature and the perceptiTe and exquisitely 
 cultivated taste of the present age. What homage 
 should we not pay to a newly recovered classic, 
 which should bring to us any thing half so pure, so 
 irresistibly touching, so deeply and passionately ten- 
 der, as the lines to Thyrza, the Italian girl's hymn 
 to the Virgin, or Thekla at her lover's grave ! 
 
 If we should allow to modern productions but a 
 part of the assumptive and gratuitous praise which 
 is now bestowed upon the classics, we should at once 
 say, that Grecian verse and Grecian oratory have 
 furnished nothing which modern times have not 
 fuUy equalled ; and that Grecian progress in knowl- 
 edge is relatively excelled a hundred times by the 
 creative and inductive achievements even of our 
 own century. 
 
 The advocacy by Macaulay of Athenian society 
 is the special plea of a gifted and skilful barrister, 
 who makes his cause acceptable by dilating on its 
 most popular and captivating features. It must be 
 observed, that the articles written by him on Mit- 
 ford's t' Greece" and on " the Athenian orators " are 
 not dictated by a special love of Athens so much as 
 by a proclivity for democracy and democratic princi- 
 ples. The cause of Athens against Sparta covers a 
 powerful and eloquent argument for popular rights 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 79 
 
 and privileges, against oligarchic usurpation. It 
 may be considered a rebuke to the monopolists, 
 landholders, and Tories of England, administered 
 to the person of Mr. Mitford and the doctrines 
 which he advocates. 
 
 The traditionary bias which has so long prevailed 
 in England has been transmitted, in an operative de- 
 gree, to the schools and colleges of the United States. 
 It is the part of wisdom that we accept and avail 
 ourselves of the desirable advantages of this inherit- 
 ance, but, at the same time, beware of its excess. 
 
 Classical literature is the aid and the ornament, 
 and may well enter into the foundation of the 
 most liberal form of education. But it is not all in 
 all that the world now requires. The foundation 
 should not be so large that the individual owner 
 will not live to see a superstructure; nor should 
 the ornament be allowed to crowd out what is per- 
 manent, necessary, or useful. The knowledge of 
 extraordinary things is not so indispensable as the 
 knowledge of common things. A man may be 
 highly accomplished in classic facts and quotations, 
 and in the use of Greek particles, accents, and me- 
 tres, and yet be the dupe of other men who build 
 his house, or dictate his taste, or educate his chil- 
 dren. Vast numbers of our college graduates, in 
 a few years, have forgotten their Greek and Latin, 
 and are toiling to make up their deficient French, 
 chemistry, and mechanics, that they may under-. 
 
80 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 stand their newspaper, manage the case of their 
 constituents, clients, or patients, or conduct the in- 
 stitutions of which they are directors. 
 
 By the statements of our Latin schools, five or 
 six years are now necessary to prepare boys for 
 entering Harvard or Yale. When Webster and 
 Everett entered college, two years were amply suffi- 
 cient for this purpose ; and this limited preparation 
 did not prevent them and others from becoming 
 great men. The prevaiUng cry, at the present day, 
 is for raising the standard of education. Should it 
 not rather be for providing the means of education, 
 and of selecting, organizing, and administering ex- 
 isting knowledge to the best purpose and advan- 
 tage ? Those of us who love, and with humble 
 proficiency delight in the solace of the classics, are 
 in no danger of advocating their exclusion from 
 colleges. But a more moderate proficiency than 
 that which is now required might suffice to com- 
 mand entrance to the precincts of our universities, 
 where provision is made for carrying them to any 
 degree of desirable perfection, by those few who 
 elect to make them afterwards a prominent pursuit. 
 In the meanwhile, an even-handed distribution is 
 asked of time, opportunity, and honors, for that 
 other and more numerous class of students who 
 would wish to obtain a corresponding proficiency 
 in English and modern literature and languages, in 
 progressive sciences, and in useful and elegant arts. 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 81 
 
 The sciolism which now leads incompetent men to 
 profess a knowledge of every thing, will be unneces- 
 sary when accredited scholarship is allowed to flow 
 in channels which are separately recognized and duly 
 honored. 
 
 In England, probably more than in any other 
 coimtry at the present day, a preponderating and 
 almost exclusive importance is given, in leading 
 educational institutions, to the study of Greek and 
 Latin classics. This preponderance has been made 
 the subject of animadversion on both sides of the 
 Atlantic, and has revived a controversy by no 
 means new in the annals of' literature. It dates 
 back for at least two centuries. More than fifty 
 years ago, one of the most acute scholars of the age, 
 Sidney Smith, himself bred up in the thorough 
 nurture of classical education, has expressed the 
 following among many similar opinions : — 
 
 " To almost every Englishman, up to the age of three 
 or four and twenty, classical learning has been the great 
 object of existence ; and no man is very apt to suspect, or 
 very much pleased to hear, that what he has done for so 
 long a time was not worth doing. This classical literature 
 reminds every man of the scenes of his childhood, and 
 brings to his fancy several of the most pleasing associa- 
 tions which we are capable of fornring. A certain sort of 
 vanity, also, very naturally grows among men occupied by 
 a common pursuit. Classical quotations are the watch- 
 words of scholars, by which they distinguish each other 
 from the ignorant and illiterate ; and Greek and Latin in- 
 sensibly become almost the only test of a cultivated mind." 
 
82 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 "That vast advantages may be derived from classical 
 learning there can be no doubt. The advantages which 
 may be derived from classical learning, by the English 
 mode of teaching, involve another and a very different 
 question ; and we will venture to say, that there never 
 was a more complete instance, in any country, of such ex- 
 travagant and overacted attachment to any branch of 
 knowledge, as that which obtains in thij country with 
 regard to classical knowledge. A young Englishman goes 
 to school at six or seven years old, and he remains in a 
 course of education till twenty-three or twenty-four years 
 of age. In all that time, his sole and exclusive occupation 
 is in learning Latin and Greek ; he has scarcely a notion 
 that there is any other kind of excellence ; and the great 
 system of facts witli which he is the most perfectly 
 acquainted are the intrigues of the heathen gods." . . . 
 " These facts the English youth get by heart as soon as 
 they quit the nursery ; and are most sedulously and indus- 
 triously instructed in them, till the best and most active 
 part of life is passed away. Now, this long career of 
 classical learning we may, if we please, denominate a 
 foundation ; but it is a foundation so far abov6 ground, that 
 there is absolutely no room to put any thing upon it. If 
 you occupy a man with one thing until he is twelity-four 
 years of age, you have exhausted all his leisure time : he 
 is called into the world, and compelled to act ; or he is sur- 
 rounded with pleasure, and thinks and reads no more. If 
 you have neglected to put other things in him, they will 
 never get in afterwards ; if you liave fed him only with 
 words, he will remain a narrow and limited being to the 
 end of his existence. 
 
 " An infinite quantity of talent is annually destroyed in 
 the universities of England by the miserable jealousy and 
 ignorance of ecclesiastical instructors. It is vain to say 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 83 
 
 that we have produced great men under this system. 
 We have produced great men under all systems. Every 
 Englishman must now pass half his life in learning Latin 
 and Greek; and classical learning is supposed to have 
 produced the talent which it has not been able to extin- 
 guish. It is scarcely possible to prevent great men from 
 rising up under any system of education, however bad." 
 
 The foregoing is a part of the testimony of one 
 of the best known and most sagacious scholars in 
 Great Britain, on the exaggerated value attached to 
 classical learning in that country, and the waste of 
 time expended in its acquisition, to the exclusion 
 of better and more necessary things. An'd the same 
 authority may at least shake the stability of our 
 faith as to the point, whether the list of great men, 
 so frequently cited as having been educated at the 
 classical institutions of England, have become great 
 through the agency of their special training; or 
 whether, on the contrary, they have become great in 
 spite of it, as it often happens in regard to other 
 results in other places. 
 
 With these anti-classical sentiments of Sidney 
 Smith we may contrast those of Mr. Gladstone, long 
 the champion and apostle of the English aristocracy 
 and English Church, some of whose ultra-opinions 
 have already been cited in these remarks. Mr. Glad- 
 stone has given to the world three solid octavo vol- 
 umes on " Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age," 
 as a .contribution to fill partially whatever chasm 
 
,84 ON CLASSICAL AKD 
 
 may remain among the pre-existing tomes of Ho- 
 meric lore and Homeric controTersy. From the 
 seriousness with which the subject is approached, 
 it would seem as if an extensiye consecration was 
 now required to take place in human life and 
 education, comparable to the religious dedication of 
 monastic forms and ages. "An immense price," 
 says he, " is already paid by the youth of this country 
 for classical acquirement. It is the main effort of 
 the first spring-tide of their intellectual life. It is 
 to be hoped that this price will continue to be 
 paid by all those who are qualified to profit by the 
 acquisition; and that though of other knowledge 
 much more will hereafter be gained than heretoforcj 
 yet of this there shall on no account be less; Still, 
 viewing the greatness of the cost, which consists in 
 the chief energies of so many precious years, it 
 highly concerns us to seQ that what we get in return 
 is good, both in measiire and in quality." In view- 
 ing the magnitude of the present deficiency he says, 
 " The study of Homer in our universities is as yet 
 below the point to which it is desirable that it should 
 be carried ; and the same study, carried on at our 
 public schools, neither is nor can be a fitting substi- 
 tute for what is thus wanting at the universities." 
 
 It may be, that, in the progress of destiny, the 
 world is yet to be divided into Homeric and anti- 
 Homeric factions. The avalanche of Greek litera- 
 ture, which geems to be descending on the old world 
 
UTILTTAEIAN STUDIES. 85 
 
 in the form of a new revival, may saturate that 
 favored region with discoveries and interpretations 
 of things unknown in the days of Pericles or Porson. 
 Mr. Gladstone astonishes us with the labors of a cer- 
 tain man, who spent his whole life in endeavors to 
 elucidate the meaning of a single Homeric word ; 
 and coolly adds, " Such a disproportion between 
 labor and its aims is somewhat startling ; yet it is 
 hardly too much to say, that no amount of exertion 
 spent upon the great classics of the world, and 
 attended with any amount of real result, is really 
 thrown away." 
 
 In regard to the impending deluge of Grecian 
 literature, we may reasonably hope that our own 
 hemisphere at least will be relatively spared, inas- 
 much as we have a Pacific Railroad to be built and 
 a nation to be reconstructed, all which may absorb 
 the superfluous energies of our people for some 
 years to come. We may safely leave to our trans- 
 atlantic friends the lea4ing glory of farther investi- 
 gating and expounding the old classics, hoping that 
 no devoted student of any Grecian nodosity will be 
 obliged hereafter to console himself with the candid 
 yet melancholy reflection of Grotius, Vitam perdidi 
 operose nihil agendo. 
 
 A seminary of leaj-ning, and especially a univer- 
 sity, cannot be perfect unless it is adapted to the 
 character and wants of all those whom it professes 
 to educate. To effect this adaptation, at least in 
 
86 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 this country, it is necessary to take into view the 
 individual position of students, their aptitude for 
 particular studies, the amount of time which they 
 can afford to devote to the acquirement of ediica- 
 tion, their probable sphere and destination in life, — 
 not omitting the more general considerations of pub- 
 lic want, and the need of men duly trained for par- 
 ticular professions. Above all, it is necessary to 
 consider the changing and continually renovated 
 state of things which grows from intellectual and 
 social progress, the vastness of the field which is 
 always waiting for cultivation, the impossibility of 
 learning all th*t is to be learned, and the difficulty 
 of selecting in each case what is best to be learned. 
 And we are compelled to consider, that, in the cases 
 of many young persons, every day spent in the study 
 of superfluous and inapplicable classics is a day 
 deducted from the pursuit of profitable and indis- 
 pensable knowledge. 
 
 The educational loaf on which the community are 
 fed has already increased to many times its former 
 size. It was once so small, that classical literature 
 might have constituted one-half of it. It is now so 
 large, that a lifetime cannot compass it; and the 
 same fractional ratio for an arbitrary division 
 would be unjust and absurd. The lawgivers of 
 education and the purveyors of learning must 
 institute a new basis of distribution; just as they 
 would proceed in districting anew a territory which 
 
UTILITARIAN STUDIES. 87 
 
 should be found excessively or unequally popu- 
 lated. 
 
 Few persons now deny, that the study of the an- 
 cient languages and ancient authors assists to fill 
 and to strengthen the mind, to enlarge the sphere 
 of tliought, and to improve, polish, and amplify the 
 power of expression. It has also the present pres- 
 tige of acquired currency in the educated world, 
 and may well form a constituent part of the most 
 acceptable as well as liberal culture. But it should 
 not monopolize the room which is now too scanty for 
 other indispensable pursuits. Classical learning, like 
 music and painting, will refine, delight, and elevate 
 the mind of a susceptible person ; but it will not 
 bring him up to the intellectual demands of the 
 present period. There are other things that, in 
 this age and country, press upon his attention and 
 time, in comparison with which classical learning is 
 already obliged to be subordinated. No man now 
 quotes Greek and Latin in the pulpit or on the 
 stage, in Congress or in a popular assembly. But 
 it will not do for an aspirant for social influence or 
 distinction to be ignorant of the great moving- 
 springs and channels of modern industry and prog- 
 ress, of the science of government, the constitution 
 pf his own country, the laws of society and of na- 
 tions, the geographical, social, and commercial relar 
 tions.of the world, the leading questions of finance 
 and political economy, the properties of bodies and 
 
88 ON CLASSICAL AND 
 
 their values, uses, aptitudes, relations, and actions 
 upon each other. He should not be ignorant of the 
 laws of animal and vegetable life, or of the sources 
 of agricultural and mineral wealth. These, with 
 moral science, modern languages, and the vast do- 
 main of English literature, may profitably replace 
 much of the labor and time now expended in col- 
 leges on the hypertrophy of classical learning. 
 
 The dead languages are dead. No man expectg 
 hereafter to create new Greek or Roman classics, 
 even if such were needed. But modern sciences 
 and studies are full of vitality, of expansion, of 
 progress present and yet to be, A new thought, an 
 inviting theory, or an important want, needs only 
 to be announced, and at once a thousand eager eyes 
 and acute minds are turned upon its development. 
 If nine hundred faU of success, their very failure 
 has better qualified them for future effort. If one 
 succeeds, the world is revolutionized. 
 
 A few years ago, men witnessing the effect of an 
 electric current on the magnetic needle wondered 
 if a motive force could not be transmitted with elec- 
 tric speed to an electric distance. A few years ago, 
 men looking at their faces in a glass wondered if 
 such an image could not be fixed on a plane surface, 
 by the agency of actinic rays. A few years ago, 
 men toiling slowly and wearily on highway roads 
 wondered if the fatigue and loss of time could not 
 be saved by some better mode of conveyance, A 
 
UTILITABIAN STUDIES. 89 
 
 few years ago, men about to imdergo surgical ope- 
 rations wished in vain that the attendant pain 
 might in some way be averted. The solution of all 
 these problems is now achieved by the triumphs of 
 utilitarian science. The nineteenth century, one- 
 third of which is yet to come, has already converted 
 all these wants and wonders into physical and his- 
 torical facts. "Would the recovery of the lost books 
 of Livy, the orations of Hortensius, or the poems of 
 Sappho, be any compensation for the loss of any 
 one of these from among our own cotemporaneous 
 revelations ? 
 
ON THE LIFE AND WORKS OP COUNT 
 RUMPOKD. 
 
 ADDRESS DELITEBED A.1 CAMBBIDOE, DEC. 11, 1816. 
 
 Human ingenuity, in all ages of the world, has been 
 directed to the acquisition of power. The simple 
 bodily strength with which nature has endowed 
 every one, the inyentions which we have sought out 
 to extend and improve our physical ability, the 
 craft and subtlety with which we learn to operate 
 on our fellow-beings, have been strikingly employed, 
 at all times, for the promotion of this object. Those 
 men have been great who have brought others un- 
 der their dominion ; who have swayed them by their 
 eloquence, or influenced them by the ascendency of 
 their character ; or who, by enlarging the bounda- 
 ries of human knowledge, have increased the extent 
 of their own resources, and obtained a control over 
 the creation around them. 
 
 Power, when acquired, may have centred and 
 terminated with the individual ; or it may have be- 
 come the common stock of society, and descended 
 from one age to another. In this respect, we find a 
 remarkable difference between the civil and the phil- 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OP COUNT BUMPOED. 91 
 
 osophical history of the world. The power which 
 men and nations exercise in regard to each other is 
 temporary and transient. The greatest individuals 
 have lived to see the decline of every thing upon 
 which their greatness reposed. Societies and politi- 
 cal institutions, which have heen distinguished in 
 their ascent, have heen not less remark^le in their 
 fall. Those nations and governments which in 
 former times have subdued their competitors, and 
 controlled for a time the destinies of a great por- 
 tion of the world, are now erased from the list of 
 empires, and perhaps recognized only in name. 
 
 In the history of philosophy, on the other hand, 
 every thing is permanent and progressive. The 
 triumphs of the human mind over the obstacles that 
 oppose its progress have never been suspended in 
 any period of the world. The ingenuity of man- 
 kind has never ceased to devise successful means of 
 perpetuating its own empire. It has never forgotten 
 how to subjugate the elements to its will, and to re- 
 duce all natural agents into ministers of its pleasure 
 and power. What one age has acquired, another 
 has not lost ; but each succeeding generation have 
 taken up the conquest where their predecessors had 
 relinquished it ; and, if they have not been able to 
 advance into unexplored regions, they have at least 
 sacrificed nothing of what was already won. Those 
 sciences and arts, which give mankind an ascen- 
 dency over 'the creation about them, have never for 
 
92 LIFE AND WORKS OP 
 
 a moment escaped from their direction and use, 
 The navigation of the sea and the cultivation of the 
 earth, the forging of metals and the fashioning of 
 ■wood, though their origin is beyond the memory 
 of man, yet have continued without ceasing, even 
 to the present day, to be extended and improved. 
 
 In the prt)gress of philosophy we have also the 
 consoling evidence, that its uniform tendency has 
 been to ameliorate the condition and promote the 
 happiness of mankind. Its effect is not merely to 
 aggrandize the individuals who cultivate it, but likC' 
 wise to benefit those who may be within the spherq 
 of its influence. The branches of natural science 
 in particular have this excellence, that they do not 
 terminate in mere speculation, but that most of 
 them have a direct bearing upon the wants of socir 
 ety, and tend to objects of real use. But these are 
 not the only inviting features in their character. As 
 they have hitherto been uniformly progressive, so 
 they will continue to be ; and the analogy of their 
 previous growth affords an unlimited prospect foy 
 the future* Even at the present period of improve- 
 ment, there is much to be learned in natural sci- 
 ence ; and the student who would be serviceable to 
 his country may enlist himself in this department 
 of labor, silmost with the certainty of being able to 
 contribute something to the general good. He need 
 not despair at the amount of preparatory acquisition 
 which seems necessary to qualify him for usefulness. 
 
COUNT EUMPOED. 93 
 
 The paths to eminence are less circuitous in this 
 than in some of the more abstract departments of 
 knowledge. Many of the important discoveries in 
 physics have been made by men young in life, re- 
 stricted in leisure, and- perhaps uninformed in the 
 elegant branches of literature. The avenues to dis- 
 tinction in natural science are proportionate to the 
 multiplicity of its objects. Independent of the gen- 
 eral subjects of investigation, which are open in all 
 countries alike, there are opportunities exclusively 
 local, peculiar to the place of one's own residence, 
 by the study and improvement of which his labors 
 may become interesting and valuable. This remark 
 may well be brought home to our own country. If 
 any one here despair of successfully cultivating 
 those branches of physical science which are pur- 
 sued by learned men in other parts of the globe, 
 with large establishments and expensive e"ndow- 
 ments, let him see if there are not subjects within 
 the circle of his own walks which are neither 
 arduous in their character nor expensive in their 
 cultivation, and which lie open to his unassisted in- 
 dustry. A multitude of such subjects he may find 
 in the face and features of our continent : its struc- 
 ture and composition ; its capacity for the dififerent 
 branches of agriculture ; the improvements of which 
 its present appropriations are susceptible ; its geog- 
 raphy; its climate and meteorology; its influence 
 on the human body and the human mind ; its dis^- 
 
94 ' LIFE AND 'WOEKS OP 
 
 eases ; its natural productions, minerals, plants, 
 and animals; the resources which it has already 
 derived from these, and those which it has yet to 
 discover ; the local exigences and wants which may 
 be supplied by the application of foreign inventions 
 and known improvements, or by the contrivance and 
 adaptation of new ones ; in short, whatever may 
 tend to increase the facilities of subsistence, and the 
 welfare of those among whom we live. 
 
 Motives of philanthropy may urge the pursuit of 
 subjects like these, but the calls of patriotism pre- 
 fer even a stronger claim. The place of our birth 
 and residence is the proper sphere and object of our 
 exertions. It does not become us to complain of its 
 disadvantages, and descant upon the superiority of 
 more favored spots. We should rather consider 
 how we may overcome its defects, and improve its 
 real advantages. We should also see whether its 
 irremediable faults are not, in some instances, pro- 
 ductive to us of good as well as of evil. 
 
 The portion of country in which it is our fortune 
 to live, is not one of exuberant soil and spontane- 
 ous plenty. The summer of New England does not 
 elicit a second burden from our trees ; nor is even 
 our annual harvest exempt from the contingency of 
 failure. Winter maintains here a long and late in- 
 fluence upon the seasons, and frosts are visiting us 
 in the latest breezes of spring. Our territory is 
 interrupted by extensive masses of rock, and broken 
 
COUNT EUMFORD. 95 
 
 by mountains intractable to cultivation. Our tbin 
 and penurious soil rests upon beds of granite, upon 
 flint and sand, wliich drain it of its moisture, while 
 themselves afiford no pabulum for its vegetation. 
 Whatever is raised from the bosom of the earth 
 must be extorted by assiduous and painful culture ; 
 and a laborious vigilance is necessary to insure the 
 fruits of the year. 
 
 Yet has this part. of our country become the most 
 populous and enlightened in the continent upon 
 which we live. The very causes which seemed at 
 variance with our prosperity have proved its most 
 powerful promoters. A vigor and hardihood of 
 character have grown up out of the evils which 
 they had to combat ; and a spirit of enterprise and 
 perseverance, unknown in more luxurious climates, . 
 has become the characteristic of our population. 
 The intelligence and the untiring application which 
 were at first the offspring of necessity have eventu- 
 ally exhibited ample fruits in the features of our 
 land. Cultivated grounds and ornamental dwell- 
 .ings, wealthy cities and flourishing institutions, have 
 arisen upon a spot where nature was never lavish 
 of her gifts. A spirit of frugality and a talent of 
 invention have more than supplied the disadvan- 
 tages of our natural situation. Around us are com- 
 fort and plenty and health. Our faculties are not 
 exhausted by the debilitating heats of a sultry sum- 
 mer, nor our constitutions assailed by the miasmata 
 
yb LIFE AND WOEKS OF 
 
 of pestilential marshes. In our climate, youth is 
 active, and manhood is hardy. A spirit of adven- 
 ture carries us everywhere in pursuit of the means 
 of living ; and there is no part of the world in which 
 the« New-England character is not represented. The 
 means of information are cherished in our humblest 
 villages; our cities are but little infested with the 
 crimes of the older continent ; and among us, to an 
 extent perhaps unexampled, the reign of intelligence 
 and of principle supersedes the coercion of law. 
 
 Under advantages so distinguished, let us not 
 complain of our lot in a country which gives us 
 natural powers, and a climate which calls them into 
 action. We should rather consider, that the health 
 and alacrity which we possess, are not the common 
 tenants of a rank and luxuriant clime ; that the sul- 
 try and tepid breezes which multiply the fruits of 
 the earth and render their qualities more exquisite, 
 do not bring with them a keener relish, a more 
 healthy circulation, or a more vigorous frame. Pew 
 countries can boast of being what Italy was in the 
 time of her ancient poets, — at once the parent of 
 fruits and of men.* Luxury and indolence are the 
 well-known concomitants of a torrid atmosphere 
 and an exuberant soil. If, in our northern and 
 wintry climate, we are strangers to the rich profu- 
 
 * Salve, magna parens firugam, Saturnia tellus ! 
 Magna vimm! Virgil. Gear. ii. 173. 
 
 All hail, Satumian earth ! land loved of &me, 
 Parent of &uita and men of mighty name ' Sothbby var. 
 
COUNT RUMPORD. 97 
 
 sion of a southern soil, we have the consolation that 
 this climate, while it yields us but a scanty harvest 
 •for a laborious cultivation, yields us at the same 
 time a blessing for which there can be no equiva/- 
 lent, — the capacity of enjoyment that results from 
 vigor of body and activity of mind. 
 
 In science and the arts, notwithstanding the in- 
 fancy of our institutions and the embarrassment 
 which most individuals experience from the neces- 
 sity of attending to the calls of business, we have 
 not been wholly without improvement, and are per- 
 haps not destitute of a name. The researches of 
 most of our ingenious men have had utility for their 
 object. They have been performed in intervals 
 taken from professional duties, and have been im- 
 peded by a deficiency of books and means. We 
 have had little of the parade of operation, yet we have 
 sometimes seen the fruits of silent efficiency and 
 perseverance. We have had few learned men, but 
 many useful ones. We have not often seen indi- 
 viduals among us spending their lives in endless 
 acquisitions, while perhaps themselves add little to 
 the general stock of knowledge ; yet we have had 
 men of original talents, who have been fortunate 
 enough to discover some province in which they 
 were qualified to be serviceable to their country and 
 mankind. We have had ingenious mechanicians, 
 skilful projectors, profound mathematicians, and 
 
 men well versed in the useful learning of their time. 
 
 7 
 
98 LIFE AND WORKS OF 
 
 Tlie progress of our internal improvements, and the 
 high state of the mechanic arts among us, as well as 
 in our sister States, has entitled us to the character 
 of a nation of inventors. The individuals who have 
 originated and promoted such improvements have 
 often been men unambitious of fame, whose lives 
 have passed in obscurity ; yet there have sometimes 
 been those among us whose labors have attracted 
 the honorable notice of foreigners, and reflected lus- 
 tre upon the country of their birth. It has even 
 been our fortime to impose obligations on others ; 
 and there are services of our citizens which are now 
 better known than their names. There are some 
 things which, if gathered from the ashes of obscu- 
 rity, might serve to shed a gleam upon our literary 
 reputation, and to make known at least the light 
 they have kindled for others. It is a fact perhaps 
 not generally realized, that the American Philosoph- 
 ical Society at Philadelphia, the Royal Society of 
 Great Britain, and the Royal Institution of London, 
 all of them are in a measure indebted for their birth 
 and first foundation to natives or inhabitants of 
 New England.* 
 
 * John Winthrop, Governor of Connecticut, and son of John Win- 
 throp, Governor of Massachusetts, was one of the principal founders of 
 the Royal Society of London. In the dedication to the fortieth volume 
 of the Philosophical Transactions, it is stated that, when he was appointed 
 to his office, Mr. Boyle, Bishop Wilkins, and the rest, proposed to leave 
 England to establish tteir society in the new colony, of which their 
 friend and associate, Mr. Winthrop, was made governor. They were 
 prevented in consequence of the protection and charter granted them by 
 
COUNT EUMFORD. 99 
 
 Among those whom -we shall longest remember, 
 are men whose memory is associated with our own 
 institutions, or with the sciences which they labored 
 to promote. "While we pass over the distinguished 
 names of the Winthrops and Bowdoin, we should 
 not forget that Franklin, the philosopher of the 
 Western world, was a native of New England, and 
 a son of our own metropolis. It was bis fortune to 
 live in times of political importance, and to find in 
 science some paths untrodden by his predecessors. 
 The great national events which he contributed to 
 promote, and the brilliant and imposing nature of 
 his philosophic discoveries, have been sufiicient to 
 aggrandize his character and immortalize his fame. 
 Many men have been as learned, and many patriots 
 as ardent ; but few have left behind them a character 
 to be summed up in a sublimer epitaph than his, 
 who " snatched the thunderbolt from heaven, and 
 the sceptre from tyrants." * 
 
 It is with peculiar emotions of gratitude, of pa- 
 triotism, and pride, that we this day recall the mem- 
 ory of a son of Massachusetts, — of one who was 
 transplanted from us at an early period, and des- 
 tined to flourish under other skies than ours ; but 
 
 Charles II. Governor Winthrop wrote many anonymous papers on vari- 
 ous subjects. " His name," says the writer of the above dedication, " had 
 he put it to his writings, would have been as universally known as the 
 Boyles, the Wilkins, and the Oldenburgs." 
 
 Count Kumford was the founder of the Eoyal Institution of London, 
 and Benjamin Franklin was first president of the Philadelphia Society. 
 
 * "Eripuit coelo fnlmen, sceptrumque iyrannis." 
 
100 LIFE AND WORKS OP 
 
 who lias left us the memorial that he was not un- 
 mindful of the country of his birth, and that for us 
 he has not lived in vain. Pew among us are ignor- 
 ant that Benjamin Count Rumford received his birth 
 and education in the near vicinity of these walls.* 
 There are now living among us those who remember 
 the features of his boyhood, and recognized the early 
 traits of his unfolding genius. On the present oc- 
 casion, time would not sufiSce us to go minutely into 
 the history of his adventurous and important life. 
 He remained long enough on this side the Atlantic 
 to develop those powers of mind and body, which 
 afterwards paved his way to the distinctions of 
 Europe. An enthusiasm in the pursuit of learning, 
 an ardent ambition for fame, a noble and command- 
 ing person, and a fascinating address a,nd manner, 
 were as conspicuous in his youth as they were cele- 
 brated in his after-life. At the commencement of 
 our Revolutionary troubles. Count Rumford having 
 the misfortune to labor under the combined influence 
 of disappointment and suspicion, which the quahties 
 of his temper were ill calculated to brook, resolved 
 to embark for England, and to intrust to fortune 
 
 * Benjamin Thompson, afterwards Sir Benjamin and Count Rumford, 
 was bom in 1763, at Wobum, near Boston, and not at Rumford (Con- 
 cord), as stated in his European Biographies. He served a part of a mer- 
 cantile apprenticeship in Salem and Boston. In 1769 he attended the 
 lectures of Professor Winthrop on Natural Philosophy, in Harvard Uni- 
 versity. Among his early associates were the late Colonel Baldwin, of 
 Wobum i his Excellency John Brooks, present Governor of Massachu- 
 setts; and Samuel Farkman, Esq., of Boston. 
 
COUNT RUMFOED. 101 
 
 and to his own genius the allotment of his future 
 destiny.* 
 
 Arrived in London, it was his singularly good 
 fortune to acquire at once tlie confidence and esteem 
 of men high in power. His talent for science, as 
 well as his political and military abilities, began to 
 display themselves. Early distinctions flowed in 
 upon him ; so that, while yet a young man, this emi- 
 grant from the Western wilds was attracting public 
 attention, as a member of the Royal Society, as 
 Under-Secretary of State, and as a colonel in the 
 British army. 
 
 His fondness for travelling and his passion for the 
 military life drew him to the Continent ; and at Stras- 
 burg he was so fortunate as to acquire not only the 
 acquaintance, but the personal and intimate friend- 
 ship, of the Prince of Deux Fonts, afterwards King 
 of Bavaria. By this prince ho was introduced at the 
 court of the reigning Elector Palatine, his personal 
 
 * Count Eumford was decidedly attached to the cause of Americau 
 liberty, and earnestly sought for a commission in the service of Congress. 
 He -was present at the battle of Lexington, and afterwards remained 
 some time with the army at Cambridge. His expectations of promotion 
 were disappointed, in consequence of suspicions arising from his former 
 intercourse with Governor Wentworth of New Hampshire, and some 
 others attached to the British cause. These suspicions it was impossible to 
 overcome, although he demanded a court of inquiry, and was honorably 
 acquitted of all intentions inimical to the cause of his country. After 
 remaining some time in fruitless hope with the American army, and see- 
 ing the post of his ambition filled by a rival candidate, he retired in dis- 
 gust, and embarked for England in January, 1776. While at Cambridge, 
 he exerted himself in preserving the library and philosophical apparatus, 
 when the colleges were occupied as barracks by the soldieqr. 
 
102 LIFE AND WORKS OP 
 
 and mental talents procured him a reception almost 
 unprecedented, and Munich became the seat of his 
 subsequent residence and fame. In this capital, the 
 qualities of his mind had full scope and opportunity 
 to display themselves. His philosophic researches 
 and discoTeries became celebrated throughout Eu- 
 rope. His public and domestic improvements were 
 acknowledged and adopted ; and, though a foreigner 
 in Germany, the highest civil and military honors 
 became his reward. 
 
 Returned to England in the character of minister 
 plenipotentiary, though for state reasons he was not 
 accredited in this capacity, yet his popularity in 
 that country was extensive and undiminished. A 
 series of essays which he began to publish upon 
 philosophic subjects were generally read and ad- 
 mired; his economic improvements became every- 
 where fashionable ; the weight and ascendency of his 
 character were such that they enabled him to carry 
 into effect extensive and important innovations ; and, 
 among other things, the Royal Institution of Lon- 
 don, a school of science which has been destined to 
 attain the highest celebrity and to become a foun- 
 tain of light to the philosophic world, owes its first 
 existence to his individual influence and efficiency. 
 
 The paths in which Count Rumford trod were as 
 numerous as his success in all of them was remark- 
 able. The practical and philosophic part of his ca- 
 reer seems to have furnished the source of his ruling 
 
COUNT EUMFOED. 103 
 
 passion, as well as of his most permanent distinc- 
 tions in society. His scientific investigations were 
 laborious, most of them were original, and all of 
 them tending to purposes of practical utility. Those 
 two universal and mysterious agents of our globe, 
 heat and light, — so cheering and so necessary, that 
 to procure them constitutes more than half the 
 labor of our existence,* — were incessant subjects 
 of his study and investigation. He experimented on 
 the non-conducting power of different substances 
 for heat, that he might bring them to practical use 
 in clothing ; he investigated the phenomena of radi- 
 ation, and the modes of producing, detaining, and 
 economizing heat, that the greatest result might be 
 brought into use with the smallest expense of com- 
 bustion. His improvements were carried from the 
 fireside of the parlor into the humbler sphere of 
 culinary operations, and their successful application 
 has been abundantly realized in a diminution of the 
 wants and expenses of life. 
 
 His philanthropic institutions for the support and 
 nourishment of the poor were among the most for- 
 tunate and successful efforts of his genius. In the 
 places of his residence he succeeded in relieving 
 society of one of its most unprofitable burdens, and 
 of substituting industry and comfort for profligacy 
 and want. It was his lot to experience what does 
 
 * It is probable that among ua, houses, clothing, fuel, and lights con- 
 Btitute more than half the necessary expenses of living. 
 
104 LIFE AND WOEKS OP 
 
 not always befall the benefactors of mankind, — the 
 real gratitude of those who were the objects of his 
 services. He has described, in interesting language, 
 the effect produced on his mind during a dangerous 
 illness, by a sound under his window from a proces- 
 sion of the poor, who were going to church to put 
 up prayers for the recovery of their benefactor. 
 
 It may not be expedient at this time to go into 
 a detail of the principles upon which Count Rum- 
 ford's various improvements in philosophy, and in 
 private and pohtical economy, were founded. In 
 the prosecution of them, he was led to the obser- 
 vation of many curious phenomena of light and 
 heat, with which the world has been made ac- 
 quainted. The application of these to use, and the 
 various contrivances he originated to increase the 
 convenience, economy, and comforts of living, have 
 given a character to his writirigs, and are every- 
 where associated with his name. His pursuits might 
 even be embodied into a science, for their object is 
 everywhere known; a science conversant with a 
 multiplicity of details, but possessing unity of de- 
 sign ; a science humble in the sphere of its opera- 
 tions, but noble in its ultimate destiny ; a science 
 which every man must practise, but which philoso- 
 phers and philanthropists must extend ; one which, 
 should it ever demand a definition, would be found 
 to be the science of clothing, of warming, and of 
 nourishing mankind. 
 
COUNT EUMPOED, 105 
 
 It will be gratifying to those who have an interest 
 in the character of this great man, to know that the 
 world was not insensible to his merits, and that 
 the countries of his residence were not parsimonious 
 of their honors and rewards. Of the scientific in- 
 stitutions which hastened to enroll him among their 
 members, were the Royal Societies of London and 
 Edinburgh, the Royal Academy of Ireland, the 
 Academy of Sciences at Berlin, and the Imperial 
 Institute of France. The public thanks of cities 
 were repeatedly expressed to him in person, and 
 monuments were erected to him during his life.* 
 
 * An elegant and expensive marble monument wss erected in the 
 English garden at Munich, during Count Eumford's absence from Bava- 
 ria, bearing the following inscription in German: — 
 Stay, wanderer. 
 At the creative fiat of Charles Theodore, 
 Rujnford, the friend of mankind, 
 by genius, ta^te, and love Inspired, 
 changed this once desert place 
 into what thou now beholdest. 
 
 And on the opposite side, — 
 
 To him 
 
 who rooted out the greatest of public evils, 
 
 idleness and mendicity ; 
 
 relieved and instructed the poor ; 
 
 and founded many institutions 
 
 for the educating of our youth. 
 
 Go, wanderer, 
 
 and strive to equal him 
 
 in genius and activity, 
 
 and us 
 
 In gratitude. 
 
 Biographical sketches of Count Rumford will be foimd in the Literary 
 Miscellany, published at Cambridge in 1805-6, in Thompson's Annala 
 of Philosophy for April, 1815, and in Cuvier's ehge before the Institute of 
 France. 
 
106 LIFE AND WORKS OP 
 
 His political talents prepared his way to civil honors 
 both in England and Bavaria ; and in the latter 
 place he was successively placed at the head of the 
 departments of war and of general police, and ap- 
 pointed minister plenipotentiary to the Court of 
 Great Britain. In the military, line, his progress 
 was not less remarkable ; and he who commenced 
 his career as a major in the militia of New Hamp- 
 shire, ended it as lieutenant-general of the armies 
 of Bavaria. He was successively knighted by the 
 Kings of Great Britain and Poland ; and that nobility 
 might not be wanting to swell the sum of his dis- 
 tinction, he was raised to the dignity of a Count- of 
 the German empire. 
 
 Thus much of Count Rumford the world knows, 
 and posterity will remember. To say that he pos- 
 sessed a character without faults would be to chal- 
 lenge the incredulity of both. But if he had faults 
 they were those of ambition, and his failings were 
 the failings of the great. They were never suffi- 
 cient to diminish the admiration of mankind for his 
 character, though they sometimes embittered the 
 scenes of his private life. The latter part of his 
 days, which he passed in Prance, does not seem to 
 have been marked by that conciliating demeanor, 
 and that happy superiority over circumstances, which 
 had formerly been his passport with the world. 
 Conscious of the importance of his services, and 
 accustomed to the homage of those around him. Ids 
 
COUNT EDMFOED. 107 
 
 mind acquired a cast of character little suited to the 
 levity and urbanity of the French metropolis. His 
 schemes and suggestions were heard with respect, 
 but not adopted with eagerness. His intercourse 
 with the society around him was decorous and for- 
 mal, but not cordial and unreserved; a second 
 marriage had not blessed his domestic repose ; and 
 he seems at last to have retired, somewhat in disgust 
 with the world, to his private mansion at Auteuil, 
 near Paris. 
 
 Thus was the period at length arrived, when 
 Count Rumford reviewed the scenes of his versatile 
 and chequered .life, and remembered the country of 
 his birth. It was the period when the claims of am- 
 bition and the vanities of the world were to find 
 their true place in the scale against the more ingen- 
 uous feelings and convictions of the soul. This 
 man, who had risen into hfe with a success the 
 most brilliant and unexampled ; who for successive 
 years had flourished in the sunshine of royal pat- 
 ronage ; who had seen institutions grow up under 
 his forming hand, which were to enlighten and im- 
 prove the world ; who had been hailed as the benefac- 
 tor of cities, and caressed as the favorite of courts, — 
 this man, in the twilight of his life, felt that he was 
 a stranger in a foreign land. With the eye of de- 
 sire and of gratitude, he looked back to the rocky 
 shores of New-England, — 
 
 " Et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos." 
 
108 LIFE AND WOEKS OP 
 
 The world was not indifferent to his death. His 
 character and biography appeared in the journals 
 of Europe ; and his eulogy was pronounced in the 
 Institute of Prance by one of the most learned men 
 of the present age. " Surely," said Cuvier, " if 
 worldly honors and renown can ever be superfluous, 
 they must have been so to that man, who, by the 
 fortunate choice of his career, knew how at once to 
 acquire the esteem of the great and the blessings 
 of the unfortunate." 
 
 To the country of his birth. Count Rumford has 
 bequeathed his fortune and his fame. The les- 
 sons of patriotism which we should learn from his 
 memorable life are important and convincing. It 
 should teach us to respect ourselves, to value our 
 resources, to cultivate our talents. Let those who 
 would depreciate our native genius recollect that he 
 was an American. Let those who would make us 
 the dependants and tributaries of the Old "World 
 recollect that he has instructed mankind. Let those 
 who would despond as to our future destinies, re- 
 member that his eye, which had wandered over the 
 Continent and capitals of Europe, settled at last 
 upon the rising prospects of this Western world. 
 For one who is destined to labor in the path that he 
 has marked out, and to foUow with his eyes, though 
 not with his steps, the brilliancy of such a career, it 
 may suffice to acknowledge, that he is not indifferent 
 to the honor that has befallen him ; that he is sen- 
 
COUNT EUMPOBD. 109 
 
 Bible of the magnitude of the example before him ; 
 that he believes that the true end of philosophy is 
 to be useful to mankind, and that he will cheerfully 
 and anxiously enter upon the duties that await him ; 
 happy if by his efforts he can hope to add even a 
 nameless stone to the monument of philanthropy 
 and science that commemorates the name of him, of 
 whom it may in truth be said, that he lived for the 
 world, and that he died for his country. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 It is about fifty years since the foregoing address was deliyered 
 at Harvard Uniyersity, on the inauguration of the professorship 
 founded by Count Kumford in that institution. The course of 
 lectures which followed, on the application of the sciences to the 
 arts, was repeated by the author during ten successive years, when, 
 on his resigning the professorship, they were published in an 
 octavo volume, under the title of " Elements of Technology." 
 
 The scientific reputation of Count Bumford, and his claims to 
 be regarded as pioneer in a profound and important department of 
 philosophy, have continually gained ground since his death ; and 
 his name, instead of being now merged among those of a crowd of 
 competitors, rather occupies the position of their leader in priority 
 and prominence. 
 
 In a series of " Expositions " of "the Correlation and Conservar 
 tion of Forces," published in New York, by Dr. Yoiimans, and which 
 embodies in a satisfactory manner the researches and reasonings 
 of the most distinguished cotemporaneous philosophers, the follow- 
 ing resume is presented of the services of our distinguished coun- 
 tryman : — 
 
 " The claims of Eumford may be summarized as follows : — 
 
 "1. He was the man who first took the question of the nature 
 of heat out of the domain of metaphysics, where it had been specu- 
 
110 LIFE AND WORKS OP COUNT EUMFORD. 
 
 lated upon since the time of Aristotle, and placed it upon the true 
 basis of physical experiment. 
 
 "2. He first proved the insufficiency of the current explanations 
 of the sources of heat, and demonstrated the felsity of the preyail- 
 jng view of its materiality. 
 
 "3. He first estimated the quantitative relation between the 
 heat produced by friction and that by combustion. 
 
 " 4. He first showed the quantity of heat produced by a definite 
 amount of mechanical work, and arrived at a result remarkably 
 near the finally established law. 
 
 " 5. He pointed out other methods to be employed in determin- 
 ing the amount of heat produced by the expenditure of mechanical 
 power; instancing particularly the agitation of water or other 
 liquids, as in churning. 
 
 " 6. He regarded the power of animals as due to their food, 
 — therefore as having a definite source, and not created; and thus 
 applied his views of force to the organic world. 
 
 " 7. Eumford was the first to demonstrate the quantitative con- 
 vertibility of force in an important case; and the first to reach 
 experimentally the fundamental conclusion, that heat is but a 
 mode of motion." 
 
ON THE DEATH OP PLINY THE ELDER.* 
 
 It is commonly represented by authors and com- 
 pilers, that Pliny the elder, who died during an 
 eruption of Vesuvius in the year of Christ 79, per- 
 ished by suffocation from the exhalations of the 
 volcano ; and a great preciseness of expression on 
 this subject has been perpetuated by most writers 
 who have touched upon it in modern times. 
 
 In the preface of Broterius to the Life and Writ- 
 ings of Pliny, it is said : " Flammis et flammarum 
 praenuntio odore sulphuris exanimatus est." Mason, 
 in Smith's Greek and Roman Biography, says : " He 
 almost immediately dropped down, suffocated, as his 
 nephew conjectures, by the vapors." In Lempri^re's 
 Classical Dictionary the same is stated : " He soon 
 fell down, suffocated by the thick vapors that sur- 
 rounded him." Rees's Cyclopaedia, art. Pliny, has 
 a similar statement: "In his flight he was suffo- 
 cated, being then in the fifty-sixth year of his age." 
 
 » From the Memoirs of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, 
 vol. vi., Dec. 9, 1856. 
 
 1111] 
 
112 ON THE DEATH OP 
 
 Cuvier, in the Biographic Universelle, thus particu- 
 larizes the closing scene : " Deux esclaves seulement 
 restdrent aupres du malheureux Pline, qui p^rit 
 suffoquS par les cendres et par les exhalaisons sul- 
 fureuses du yolcan." Simond, in his Tour in Italy, 
 says of Pliny at Stabiae : " Although not much 
 nearer to Vesuvius than Naples is, he there met his 
 death, from mere suffocation probably, as hi« body 
 was afterwards found externally uninjured." Sir 
 Charles Lyell, in his Principles of Geology, says of 
 Pliny : " In his anxiety to obtain a nearer view of 
 the phenomena, lie lost his liffe, being suffocated by 
 sulphurous vapors." 
 
 The only authentic and contemporaneous narra- 
 tive extant of the death of Pliny, and that on which 
 subsequent opinions are necessarily founded, is that 
 contained in the letter of his nephew, Pliny the 
 younger. After an examination of this celebrated 
 epistle, it appears to me highly probable that the 
 elder Pliny got his death, not from suffocation or 
 aspliyxia, as is commonly believed, but from a more 
 specific and natural disease. The following is a 
 part of the translation by Mr. Melmoth of this 
 epistle : — 
 
 " In the mean while, the fire from Vesuvius flamed forth 
 from several parts of the mountain with great violence, 
 which the darkness of the night contributed to render still 
 more visible and dreadful. But my uncle, in order to 
 calm the apprehensions of his friend, assured him that it 
 
FLINT THE ELDER. 113 
 
 was only the conflagration of the villages which the coun- 
 try people had abandoned. After this, he retired to rest, 
 and it is most certain he was so little discomposed as to 
 fell into a deep sleep ; for, being corpulent and breathing 
 hard, the attendants in the antechamber actually heard 
 him snore. The court which led to his apartment being 
 now almost filled with stones and ashes, it would have 
 been impossible for him, if he had continued there any 
 longer, to have made his way out. It was thought proper, 
 therefore, to awaken him. He got up, and joined Pom- 
 ponianus and the rest of the company, who had not been 
 sufficiently unconcerned to think of going to bed. They 
 consulted -together whether it would be most prudent to 
 trust to the houses, which now shook from side to side 
 with frequeftt and violetit concussions, or flee to the open 
 fields, where the calcined stones and cinders, though levi- 
 gated indeed, yet fell in large showers, and threatened 
 them with instant destruction. In this distress, they re- 
 solved upon the fields, as the less dangerous situation of 
 the two ; a resolution which, while the rest of the com- 
 pany were hurried into by their fears, my uncle embraced 
 upon cool and deliberate consideration. They went out 
 then, having pillows tied upon their heads with napkins ; 
 and this was their whole defence against the storm of 
 stones which fell around them. It was now day everywhere 
 else ; but there a deeper darkness prevailed than in the 
 blackest night, which, however, was in some degree dissi- 
 pated by torches and other lights of various kinds. They 
 thought it expedient to go down further upon the shore, in 
 order to observe if they might safely put out to sea ; but 
 they found the waves stUl running extremely high and 
 boisterous. There my uncle, having drunk a draught or 
 two of cold water, laid himself down upon a sail-cloth 
 which was spread for him ; when immediately the flames, 
 
 8 
 
114 ON THE DEATH OP 
 
 preceded by a strong smell of sulphur, dispersed the rest 
 of the company and obliged him to rise. He raised him- 
 self up with the assistance of two of his servants, and in- 
 stantly fell down dead, suffocated, I conjecture, by some 
 gross and noxious vapor, having always had weak lungs, 
 and being frequently subject to a difficulty of breathing." 
 
 Notwithstanding the elegance and general accu- 
 racy of Mr. Melmoth's translation, there is room 
 for doubting the exactness of that part which con- 
 tains the closing scene of Pliny's life. The words 
 of the younger Pliny are as follows: "Deinde 
 flammsB, flammarumque pr^nuntius odor sulfuris, 
 alios in fugam vertunt, excitant ilium. Innixus 
 servis duobiis adsurrexit, et statim concidit, ut ego 
 Gonjecto crassiore cali'gine spiritu obstructo, clauso- 
 que stomacho, qui illi natura invalidus et angustus 
 et frequenter intersestuans erat." The more exact 
 translation of this passage would be as follows: 
 " Then the flames, and the odor of sulphur premoni- 
 tory of the flames, put the others to flight and 
 aroused him. He rose, leaning upon two slaves, 
 and immediately fell dead ; his breath being ob- 
 structed, as I conjecture, by the thick mist (jialigine), 
 and his stomach being shut up, which in him was 
 by nature weak, narrow, and subject to frequent 
 commotion." The fact here is that he fell suddenly 
 dead. The theory of Pliny, his nephew, who was not 
 present, and who was not much versed in anatomy, 
 is that be died from obstruction of his breath by 
 the " caligo ; " a word which means darkness, fog, 
 
FLINT THE ELDEE. 115 
 
 mist, also metaphorically blindness, dizziness, and 
 ignorance, but does not mean a noxious or irrespi- 
 rable vapor. 
 
 That this " caligo" was not composed of materials 
 necessarily destructive of life, there is abundant 
 collateral evidence. Pliny had been attended to 
 the spot by a considerable party, and two slaves 
 were actually supporting him at the time of his 
 death. Yet it does not appear from record that any 
 of these persons suffered death or detriment from 
 the inhalation of noxious gas on the occasion. The 
 character of the " caligo " is further elucidated by 
 the personal experience of the younger Pliny, who. 
 witnessed its effects during the same eruption, and 
 has described its phenomena in a subsequent letter ; 
 the nephew being at Miseuum, whUe the uncle was 
 at Stabise, in the same vicinity to the mountain : — 
 
 " It was now morning, but the light was exceedingly 
 faint and languid. The buildings all around us tottered ; 
 and though we stood upon" open ground, yet, as the place 
 was narrow and confined, there was no remaining without 
 imminent danger. We therefore resolved to leave the 
 town. The people followed us in the utmost consternation, 
 and pressed in great crowds about us in our way out. 
 Being advanced at a convenient distance from the houses, 
 we stood still in the midst of a most hazardous and tre- 
 mendous scene. The chariots which we had ordered to 
 be drawn out were so agitated backwards and forwards, 
 though upon the most level ground, that we could not keep 
 them steady even by supporting them with large stones. 
 The sea seemed to roll back upon itself, and to be driven 
 
116 ON THE DEATH OP 
 
 from its* banks by the convulsive motion of the earth. On 
 the other side, a black and dreadful cloud, bursting with an 
 igneous, serpentine vapor, darted out a long train of fire, 
 resembling flashes of lightning. . . . Soon afterwards the 
 cloud seemed to descend and cover the whole ocean, as 
 indeed it entirely hid the island of Caprea and the prom- 
 ontory of Misenum. . . . 
 
 " The ashes now began to fall upon us, though in no 
 great quantity. I turned my head, and observed behind 
 us a thick smoke, which came rolling after us like a tor- 
 rent. I proposed, while we had yet any light, to turn out 
 of the high road, lest [we] should be pressed to death in 
 the dark by the crowd that followed us. We had scarcely 
 stepped out of the path when the darkness overspread us, — 
 not like that of a cloudy night, or when there is no moon, 
 but of a room when it is shut up and all the lights ex- 
 tinct. Nothing then was to be heard but the shrieks of 
 women, the screams of children, and the cries of men; some 
 calling for their children, others for their parents, others 
 for their husbands, and only distinguishing each other by 
 their voices ; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his 
 family, some wishing to die from the very fear of dying. . . . 
 At length a glimmering light appeared, . . . then again we 
 were immersed in thick darkness, and a heavy shower of 
 ashes rained upon us, which we were obliged every now 
 and then to shake oiF, otherwise we should have been over- 
 whelmed and buried in the heap. ... At last this terrible 
 darkness [caligo] was dissipated by degrees, like a cloud 
 or smoke, the real day returned, and even the sun appeared, 
 though very faintly, as when an eclipse is coming on. 
 Every object that presented itself to our eyes seemed 
 changed, being coverbd with white ashes, as with a deep 
 
FLINT THE ELDER. 117 
 
 From these descriptions we are justified in be- 
 lieving that the " oaligo " which pervaded the air 
 during this eruption of Vesuvius was simply the 
 darkness, or dark haze, existing in an atmosphere 
 rendered nearly opaque by falling ashes. These 
 ashes (jiinis) appear to have consisted mainly of 
 particles of solid substance, thrown out from the 
 crater, or sublimed in 'the volcano and condensed 
 in the atmosphere, such as now cover the ruins of 
 Pompeii. As to the " odor sulfuris," mentioned in 
 the first letter, it is not spoken of as a thing in it- 
 self deleterious, but merely as the forerunner (^frcer- 
 nuntius) of the flames. Had the air been highly 
 charged with sulphurous or hydrosulphuric acids, 
 which are among the gaseous products of volcanoes, 
 or even with the sublimed chlorides more common 
 among volcanic gases, it is hardly probable that 
 Pliny would have been the only sufferer on the oc- 
 casion, or that eye-witnesses would have survived 
 to be narrators of a catastrophe in which they them- 
 selves had no share, or even that the inhabitants of 
 Herculaneum and Pompeii, which cities were buried 
 in the same eruption of Vesuvius, would so gener- 
 ally have escaped as they appear to have done. 
 
 The important facts which belong to the object of 
 the present inquiry may be summed up briefly as 
 follows : Pliny the elder, a corpulent man, subject 
 to laborious breathing and to other infirmities which 
 had excited the notice, if not the apprehensions, of 
 
118 ON THE DEATH OP FLINT THE ELDER. 
 
 his friends, was, on the day and night preceding his 
 death, exposed to unusual fatigue and anxiety. In 
 tlie evening he liad had himself carried to a bath, 
 ate his supper, and went to bed, where he slept so 
 profoundly as to be insensible to the noise and dan- 
 ger which kept his companions awake. At length, 
 the danger growing more imminent, he was awak- 
 ened, and with his companions fled from the house, 
 the whole company carrying pillows on their heads 
 to ward off the falling stones. In this way they 
 groped their way through the darkness till the next 
 morning (^jam dies alibi, illic nox). He then lay 
 down on a sail-cloth spread out for him, — a meas- 
 ure which, we may suppose, would hardly have been 
 resorted to under the continuance of danger from 
 the falling stones, except from want of strength on 
 his part to proceed. Neither, under the same cir- 
 cumstances, would he have stopped repeatedly to 
 demand cold water, unless suffering unusual thirst 
 (^Semel atque iterwm frigidam poposcit hausitque). 
 At length, under a fresh alarm, he raised himself 
 up, and immediately fell dead while leaning upon 
 his two servants. 
 
 A medical man may be excused for believing that 
 Pliny died from apoplexy following unusual exertion 
 and excitement, or possibly from a fatal crisis in 
 some disease of the heart previously existing. 
 
ON THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD, AOT) 
 MOUNT AUBURN CEMETERY. 
 
 [The interest which the author has felt in the Cemetery at 
 Mount Auburn, the first of its kind in the United States, has in a 
 measure grown out of his personal connection with its foundation 
 and subsequent development. The project of Mount Auburn was 
 originally conceived, the preparatory meetings called, the laud se- 
 lected and engaged, and the larger public structures, the gate, 
 chapel, tower, and iron fence, designed by liimself at different 
 times.* The pleasure of witnessing, through so many years, the 
 progressive improvement of this beautiful spot has been enhanced 
 by the interest and active co-operation of many of our distin- 
 guished and valued citizens. 
 
 While the subject was of recent agitation, the following Address 
 was delivered at the hall of the Masonic Temple, before the Boston 
 Society for the Promotion of Useful Knowledge : — ] 
 
 The manner in which we dispose of the remains of 
 our deceased friends is a subject wliich, within the 
 last few years, has occupied a greater share than 
 formerly of the public attention in our own vicinity. 
 It involves not only considerations which belong to 
 the general convenience, but includes also the grati- 
 fication of individual taste, and the consolation of 
 
 • Historical notices of Mount Auburn have been published by Thacher, 
 Walter, Dearborn, and others, also in the Daily Advertiser, Sept. 9, 1851, 
 and the Boston Atlas, Sept. 18, 1861. 
 
 [119] 
 
120 ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 
 
 private sorrow. Although, in a strictly philosophi- 
 cal view, this subject possesses but little importance 
 except in relation to the convenience of survivors, 
 yet so closely are our sympathies enlisted with it, so 
 inseparably do we connect the feelings of the living 
 with the condition of the dead, that it is in vain that 
 we attempt to divest ourselves of its influence. It 
 is incurabent on us, therefore, to analyze, as far as 
 we may be able, the principles which belong to a 
 correct view of this subject ; since it is only by un- 
 derstanding these, that we may expect both reason 
 and feeling to be satisfied. 
 
 The progress of all organized beings is towards 
 decay. The complicated textures which the living 
 body elaborates within itself begin to fall asunder 
 almost as soon as life has ceased. The materials 
 of which animals and vegetables are composed have 
 natural laws and irresistible affinities, which are 
 suspended during the period of life, but which must 
 be obeyed the moment that life is extinct. These 
 continue to operate until the exquisite fabric is re- 
 duced to a condition in no wise different from that 
 of the soil on which it has once trodden. Li certain 
 cases, art may modify, and accident may retard, the 
 approaches of disorganization ; but the exceptions 
 thus produced are too few and imperfect to invali- 
 date the certainty of the general law. 
 
 If we take a comprehensive survey of the prog- 
 ress and mutations of animal and vegetable life, we 
 
ON THE BUBIAL OP THE DEAD. 121 
 
 shall perceive that this necessity of individual de- 
 struction is the basis of general safety. The ele- 
 ments which have once moved and circulated in 
 living frames do not become extinct nor useless 
 after death : they o£Fer themselves as the materials 
 from which other living frames are to be constructed. 
 What has once possessed life is most assimilated to 
 the living character, and most ready to partake of 
 life again. The plant which springs from the earth, 
 after attaining its growth and perpetuating its spe- 
 cies, falls to the ground, undergoes decomposition, 
 and contributes its remains to the nourishment of 
 plants around it. The myriads of animals which 
 ..range the woods or inhabit the air at length die 
 upon the surface of the earth ; and, if not devoured 
 by other animals, prepare for vegetation the place 
 which receives their remains. Were it not for this 
 law of nature, the soil would be soon exhausted, the 
 earth's surface would become a barren waste, and 
 the whole race of organized beings, for want of sus- 
 tenance, would become extinct. 
 
 Man alone, the master of the creation, does not 
 willingly stoop to become a participator in the rou- 
 tine of nature. In every age he has manifested a 
 disposition to exempt himself, and to rescue his 
 fellow, from the common fate of living beings. Al- 
 though he is prodigal of the lives of other classes, 
 and sometimes sacrifices a hundred inferior bodies 
 to procure himself a single repast, yet he regards 
 
122 ON THE BDEIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 with scrupulous anxiety the destination of his own 
 remains ; and much labor and treasure are devoted 
 by him to ward oif for a season the inevitable 
 courses of nature. Under the apprehension of post- 
 humous degradation, human bodies have been em- 
 balmed, their concentrated dust has been inclosed in 
 golden urns, monumental fortresses have been piled 
 over their decaying bones ; with what success, and 
 with what use, it may not be amiss to consider. 
 
 I have selected a few instances, in which meas- 
 ures have been taken to protect the human frame 
 from decay, which will be seen to have been in some 
 cases partially successful, in others not so. They 
 will serve as preliminaries to the general considera- 
 tions which are connected with the subject. 
 
 One of the most interesting accounts of the pres- 
 ervation of a body, the identity of which was un- 
 doubted, is that of the disinterment of King Edward 
 I. of England. The readers of English history will 
 recollect, that this monarch gave, as a dying charge 
 to his son, that his heart should be sent to the Holy 
 Land, but that his body should be carried in the van 
 of the army till Scotland was reduced to obedience. 
 
 He died in July, 1307 ; and, notwithstanding his 
 injunctions, was buried in Westminster Abbey, in 
 October of the same year. It is recorded that he 
 was embalmed, and orders for renewing the cere- 
 cloth about his body were issued in the reigns of 
 Edward HI. and' Henry IV. The tomb of this 
 
ON, THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 123 
 
 monarch was opened, and his body examined in 
 January, 1774, under the direction of Sir Joseph 
 Ayloffe, after it had been buried four hundred and 
 sixty-seven years. The following account is ex- 
 tracted from a contemporaneous volume of the 
 " Gentleman's Magazine : " — 
 
 " Some gendemen of the Society of Antiquaries, being 
 desirous to see how far the actual state of Edward I.'s body 
 answered to the methods taken to preserve it, obtained 
 leave to open the large stone sarcophagus, in which it is 
 known to have been deposited, on the north side of Edward 
 the Confessor's chapel. This was accordingly done on the 
 morning of Jan. 2, 1774, when, in a coffin of yellow 
 stone, they found the royal body in perfect preservation, 
 inclosed in two wrappers : one of them was of gold tissue, 
 strongly waxed, and fresh ; the other and outermost, consid- 
 erably decayed. The corpse was habited in a rich mantle 
 of purple, paned with white, and adorned with ornaments of 
 gilt metal, studded with red and blue stones and pearls. 
 Two similar ornaments lay on the hands. The mantle 
 was fastened on the right shoulder by a magnificent fibula 
 of the same metal, with the same stones and pearls. His 
 face had over it a silken covering, so fine, and so closely 
 fitted to it, as to preserve the features entire. Round his 
 temples was a gilt coronet of fleurs-de-lis. In his hands, 
 which were also entire, were two sceptres of gilt metal : 
 that in the right surmounted by a cross fleure ; that in the 
 left by three clusters of oak leaves and a dove on a globe. 
 This sceptre was about five feet long. The feet were en- 
 veloped in the mantle and other coverings, but sound, and 
 the toes distinct. The whole length of the corpse was five 
 feet two inches." 
 
124 ON THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 This last statement, it will be observed, is the only 
 point in which the narrative appears to disagree 
 ■with history. We are generally given to understand 
 that Edward I. was a tall man, and that he was 
 designated in his own time by the name of Long- 
 shanks. Baker, in his " Chronicle of the Kings of 
 England," says of him that he was tall of sfature, 
 exceeding most other men by a head and shoulders. 
 I have not been able to find Sir Joseph Ayloffe's 
 account of the examination ; and know of no other 
 mode of reconciling the discrepancy, but by suppos- 
 ing a typographical error of a figure in the account 
 which has been quoted. 
 
 Edward I. died at Burgh-upon-sands, in Cumber- 
 land, on his way to Scotland, July 7, 1307, in the 
 sixty-eighth year of his age. 
 
 Another instance of partial preservation is that 
 of the body of King Charles I., who was beheaded 
 by his subjects in 1649. The remains of this un- 
 fortunate monarch are known to have been carried 
 to Windsor, and there interred by his friends, with- 
 out pomp, in a hasty and private manner. It is 
 stated, in Clarendon's " History of the Eebellion," 
 that when his son, Charles II., was desirous to re- 
 move and re-inter his corpse &t Westmiiister Abbey, 
 it could not by any search be found. In construct- 
 ing a mausoleum at Windsor, in 1813, under the 
 direction of George IV., then Prince Regent, an 
 accident led to the discovery of this royal body. 
 
ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 125 
 
 The ■workmen, in forming a subterraneous passage 
 under the choir of St. George's Chapel, accidentally 
 made an aperture in the wall of the vault of King 
 Henry VIII. On looking through this opening, it 
 was found to contain three coffins, instead of two, 
 as had been supposed. Two of these were ascer- 
 tained .to be the coffins of Henry VIH., and'of one 
 of his queens, Jane Seymour. The other was for- 
 mally examined, after permission obtained, by Sir 
 Henry Halford, in presence of several members of 
 the royal family, and other persons of distinction. 
 The account, since published by Sir Henry, corrob- 
 orates the one which had been given by Mr. Herbert,^ 
 a groom of King Charles's bedchamber, and is pub- 
 lished in Wood's " Athenae Oxonienses : " — 
 
 " On removing the pall," says the account, " a plain 
 leaden coffin presented itself to view, with no appearance 
 of ever having been inclosed in wood, and bearing an in- 
 scription, ' King Charles, 1648,' in large, legible characters, 
 on a scroll of lead encircling it. A square opening was 
 then made in the upper part of the Kd, of such dimensions 
 as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were 
 an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed; and the 
 body, carefully wrapped up in cerecloth, into the folds of 
 which a quantity of unctuous matter, mixed with resin as 
 it seemed, had been melted, so as to exclude, as eflfectually 
 as possible, the external air. The coffin was completely 
 full ; and, from the tenacity of the cerecloth, great difficulty 
 was experienced in detaching it successfully from the parts 
 which it enveloped. Wherever the unctuous matter had 
 insinuated itself, the separation of the cerecloth was easy j 
 
126 ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 
 
 and, where it came off, a correct impression of the features 
 to which it had been applied was observed. At length the 
 whole face was disengaged from its covering. The com- 
 plexion of the skin of it was dark and discolored. The 
 forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their 
 muscular substance ; the cartilage of the nose was gone ; 
 but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open 
 and full, though it vanished almost immediately ; and the 
 pointed beard, so characteristic of the period of the reign 
 of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was 
 a long oval ; many of the teeth remained ; and the left 
 ear, in consequence of the interposition of the unctuous 
 matter between it and the cerecloth, was found entire. 
 
 " It was difficult, at this moment, to withhold a declara- 
 tion, that, notwithstanding its disfigurement, the countenance 
 did bear a strong resemblance to the coins, the busts, apd 
 especially to the picture of King Charles the First, by 
 Vandyke, by which it had been made familiar to us. It is 
 true that the mihds of the spectators of this interesting 
 sight were well prepared to receive this impression ; but it 
 is also certain that such a facility of belief had been occa- 
 sioned by the simplicity and truth of Mr. Herbert's nar- 
 rative, every part of which had been confirmed by the 
 investigation, so far as it had advanced ; and it will not be 
 denied that the shape of the face, the forehead, the eye, and 
 the beard, are the most important features by which resem- 
 blance is determined. 
 
 " When the head had been entirely disengaged from the 
 attachments which confined it, it was found to be loose, 
 and without any difficulty was taken out and held up to 
 view. The back part of the scalp was entirely perfect, 
 and had a remarkably fresh appearance ; the pores of the 
 skin being more distinct, and the tendons and ligaments 
 of the neck were of considerable substance and firmness. 
 
QN THE BUEIAL OP THE DEAD. 127 
 
 The hair was thick at the back part of the head, and in 
 appearance nearly black. A portion of it, which has since 
 been cleaned and dried, is of a beautiful dark-brown color. 
 That of the beard was a redder brown. On the back part 
 of the head it was not more than an inch in length, and 
 had probably been cut so short for the convenience of 
 the executioner, or perhaps by the piety of friends, soon 
 after death, in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy 
 king. 
 
 " On holding up the head to examine the place of sep- 
 aration from the body, the muscles of the neck had evi- 
 dently retracted themselves considerably ; and the fourth 
 cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance 
 transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions 
 perfectly smooth and even, — an appearance which could 
 have been produced only by a heavy blow, inflicted with a 
 very sharp instrument, and which furnished the last proof 
 wanting to identify King Charles the First." 
 
 The foregoing are two of the most successful in- 
 stances of posthumous preservation. The care taken 
 in regard to some other distinguished personages 
 has been less fortunate in its result. The coffin of 
 Henry VIII. was inspected at the same time with 
 that of Charles, and was fotmd to contain nothing 
 but the mere skeleton of that king. Some portions 
 of beard remained on the chin ; but there was noth- 
 ing to discriminate the personage contained in it. 
 
 During the present century, the sarcophagus of 
 King John has also been examined. It contained 
 little else than a disorganized mass of earth. The 
 principal substances found were some half-decayed 
 
128 ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 
 
 bones, a few vestiges of cloth and leather, and a long 
 rusty piece of iron, apparently the remains of the 
 sword-blade of that monarch. 
 
 The rapidity with which decomposition takes place 
 in organic bodies depends upon the particular cir- 
 cumstances under which they are placed. A certain 
 temperature and a certain degree of moisture are 
 indispensable agents in the common process of pu- 
 trefaction ; and, could these be avoided in the habi- 
 table parts of our globe, human bodies might last 
 indefinitely. I shall be excused for dwelling a short 
 time on the influence of some of these preservative 
 agents. Where a certain degree of cold exists, it 
 tends powerfully to check the process of destructive 
 fermentation ; and, when it extends so far as to pro- 
 duce congelation, its protecting power is complete. 
 Bodies of men and animals are found in situations 
 where they have remained frozen for years, and even 
 for ages. Not many years ago, the bodies of some 
 Spanish soldiers were found in a state of perfect 
 preservation among the snows of the Andes, where 
 they were supposed to have perished, in attempting 
 to cross those mountains, nearly a century ago ; 
 their costume and some historical records indicating 
 the probable period of their expedition. At the 
 Hospice of the Grand St. Bernard in the Alps, some 
 receptacles of the dead are shown to travellers ; in 
 which, owing to the effect of perpetual frost, together 
 with the lightness of the atmosphere, but little ab- 
 
ON THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 129 
 
 solute decay has taken place in the subjects deposited 
 during a lapse of years. But the most remarkable 
 instance of preservation by frost of an animal body, 
 is that of an elephant of an extinct species, discov- 
 ered in 1806 in the ice of the polar sea, near the 
 mouth of the river Lena, by Mr. Michael Adams. 
 This animal was iirst seen by a chief of the Tonguse 
 tribe, in the year 1799 ; at which time it was im- 
 bedded in a rock of ice, about one hundred and 
 eighty feet high, and had only two feet, with a small 
 part of the body projecting from the side so as to be 
 visible. At the close of the next summer, the entire 
 flank of the animal had been thawed out. It never- 
 theless required five summers, in this inclement re- 
 gion, to thaw the ice so that the whole body could be 
 liberated. At length, in 1804, the enormous mass 
 separated from the mountain of ice, and fell over 
 upon its side, on a sandbank. At this time it ap- 
 pears to have been in a state of perfect preservation, 
 with its skin and flesh as entire as when it had ex- 
 isted antecedently to the deluge, or during that con- 
 dition of the globe which placed animals apparently 
 of the torrid zone in the confines of the Arctic circle. 
 The Tonguse chief cut ofT the tusks, which were nine 
 feet long, and weighed two hundred pounds each. 
 Two years after this event, Mr. Adams, being at 
 Yakutsk, and hearing of this event, undertook a 
 journey to the spot. He found the animal in the 
 same place, but exceedingly mutilated by the dogs 
 
130 ON THE BUEIAL OP THE DEAD. 
 
 and wolves of the neighborhood, which had fed upon 
 its flesh as fast as it thawed. He, however, suc- 
 ceeded in removing the whole skeleton, and in recov- 
 ering two of the feet, one of the ears, one of the eyes, 
 and about three quarters of the skin, which was cov- 
 ered with reddish hair and black bristles. These 
 are now in the museum at St. Petersburg. 
 
 The foregoing facts are sufficient to show that a 
 low degree of temperature is an eifectual preventive 
 of animal decomposition. On the other hand, a cer- 
 tain degree of heat combined with a dry atmos- 
 phere, although a less perfect protection, is sufficient 
 to check the destructive process. Warmth com- 
 bined with moisture tends greatly to promote de- 
 composition; yet, if the degree of heat, or the 
 circumstances under which it acts, are such as to 
 produce a perfect dissipation of moisture, the further 
 progress of decay is arrested. In the arid caverns 
 of Egypt, the dried flesh of mummies, although 
 greatly changed from its original appearance, has 
 made no progress towards ultimate decomposition 
 during two or three thousand years. It is known 
 that the ancient Egyptians embalmed the dead bodies 
 of their friends, by extracting the large viscera from 
 the cavities of the head, chest, and abdomen, and 
 filling them with aromatic and resinous substances, 
 particularly asphaltum, and enveloping the outside 
 of the body in cloths impregnated with similar mar 
 terials. These impregnations prevented decomposi- 
 
ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 131 
 
 tion for a time, imtil perfect dryness had taken 
 place. Their subsequent preservation, through so 
 many centuries, appears to have been owing, not 
 so much to the antiseptic quality of the substance 
 in which they are enveloped, as to the effectual ex- 
 clusion of moisture. 
 
 In the crypt under the cathedral of Milan, travel- 
 lers are shown the ghastly relics of Carlo Borromeo, 
 as they have lain for two centuries, inclosed in a 
 crystal sarcophagus, and bedecked with costly finery 
 of silk and gold. The preservation of this body is 
 equal to that of an Egyptian mummy, yet a more 
 loathsome piece of mockery than it exhibits can be 
 hardly imagined. 
 
 It will be perceived that the instances which have 
 been detailed are cases of extraordinary exemption, 
 resulting from uncommon care, or from the most 
 favorable combination of circumstances, such as can 
 befaU but an exceedingly small portion of the human 
 race. The common fate of animal bodies is to un- 
 dergo the entire destruction of their fabric, and the 
 obliteration of their living features, in a few years, 
 and sometimes even weeks, after their death. No 
 sooner does life cease than the elements which con- 
 stituted the vital body become subject to the com- 
 mon laws of inert matter. The original affinities, 
 which had been modified or suspended during life, 
 are brought into operation; the elementary atoms 
 re-act upon each other; the organized structure 
 
132 ON THE BUEIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 passes into decay, and is converted to its original 
 dust. Such is the natural, and I may add the 
 proper, destination of the material part of all that 
 has once moved and breathed. 
 
 The reflections which naturally suggest them- 
 selves, in contemplating the wrecks of humanity 
 which have occasionally been brought to light, are 
 such as lead us to ask, of what possible use is a re- 
 sistance to the laws of nature, which, when most 
 successfully executed, can at best only, preserve a 
 defaced and degraded image of what was once per- 
 fect and beautiful ? Could we by any means arrest 
 the progress of decay, so as to gather round us 
 the dead of a hundred generations in a visible and 
 tangible shape ; could we fill our houses and our 
 streets with mummies, — what possible acquisition 
 could be more useless, what custom' could be more 
 revolting ? For precisely the same reason, the sub- 
 terranean vaults and the walls of brick — which we 
 construct to divide the clay of humanity from that 
 of the rest of creation, and to preserve it separate for 
 a time, as it were for future inspection — are neither 
 useful, gratifying, nor ultimately effectual. Could 
 the individuals themselves, who are to be the subjects 
 of this care, have the power to regulate the officious 
 zeal of their survivors, one of the last things they 
 could reasonably desire would be that the light should 
 ever shine on their changed and crumbling relics. 
 
 On the other hand, when nature is permitted to 
 
ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 133 
 
 take its course, wlien the dead are committed to the 
 earth under the open sky, to become early and peace- 
 fully blended mth their original dust, no unpleasant 
 association remains. It would seem as if the for- 
 bidding and repulsive conditions which attend on 
 decay were merged and lost in the surrounding har- 
 monies of the creation. 
 
 When the body of Major Andr^ was taken up a 
 few years since, from the place of its interment near 
 the Hudson, for the purpose of being removed to 
 England, it was found that the skull of that officer 
 was closely encircled by a network, formed by the 
 roots of a small tree which had been planted near 
 his head. This is a natural and most beautiful co- 
 incidence. It would seem as if a faithful sentinel 
 had taken his post, to watch till the obliterated 
 ashes should no longer need a friend. Could we 
 associate with inanimate clay any of the feelings of 
 sentient beings, who would not wish to rescue his 
 remains from the prisons of mankind, and commit 
 them thus to the embrace of nature ? 
 
 Convenience, health, and decency require that the 
 dead should be early removed from our sight. The 
 law of nature requires that they should moulder into 
 dust ; and the sooner this change is accomplished, 
 the better. This change should take place, not in 
 the immediate contiguity of survivors, not in fre- 
 quented receptacles provided for the promiscuous 
 concentration of numbers, not where the intruding 
 
134 ON THE BUKIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 light may annually usher in a new tenant to en- 
 croach upon the old. It should take place peace- 
 fully, silently, separately, in the retired valley or 
 the sequestered wood, where the soil continues its 
 primitive exuberance, and where the earth has not 
 become too costly to afford to each occupant at least 
 his length and breadth. 
 
 Within the bounds of populous and growing cities, 
 interments cannot with propriety take place beyond 
 a limited extent. The vacant tracts reserved for 
 burial-grounds, and the cellars of churches which 
 are converted into* tombs, become glutted with in- 
 habitants, and are in the end obliged to be aban- 
 doned, though not perhaps until the original tenants 
 have been ejected, and the same space has been 
 occupied three or four successive times. Necessity 
 obliges a recourse at last to be had to the neighbor- 
 ing country ; and hence in Paris, London, Liverpool, 
 Leghorn, and other European cities, cemeteries have 
 been constructed without the confines of their pop- 
 ulation. These places, in consequence of the suf- 
 ficiency of the ground and the funds which usually 
 grow out of such establishments, have been made 
 the recipients of tasteful ornament. Travellers are 
 attracted by their beauty, and dwell with interest 
 on their subsequent recollection. The scenes which, 
 under most other circumstances, are repulsive and 
 disgusting, are, by the joint influence of nature and 
 art, rendered beautiful, attractive, and consoling. 
 
ON THE BURIAL OP THE DEAD. 135 
 
 The situation of Mount Auburn, near Boston, is 
 one of great natural fitness for the objects to which 
 it has been devoted. Independently of its superior 
 size, it may be doubted whether any spot, which has 
 been set apart for the same purposes in Europe, 
 possesses half the interest in its original features. 
 In a few years, when the hand of taste shall have 
 scattered among the trees, as it has already begun 
 to do, enduring memorials of- marble and granite, a 
 landscape of the most picturesque character wiU be 
 created. No place in the environs of our city will 
 possess stronger attractions to the visitor. To the 
 mourner it offers seclusion amid the consoling influ- 
 ences of nature. The moralist and man of religion 
 will — 
 
 " Find room 
 And food for meditation, nor pass by 
 Much, that may give him pause, if pondered fittingly." 
 
 We regard the relics of our deceased friends and 
 kindred for what they have been, and not for what 
 they are. We cannot keep in our presence the de- 
 graded image of the original frame ; and, if some 
 memorial is necessary to soothe the unsatisfied 
 want which we feel when bereaved of their pres- 
 ence, it must be found in contemplating the place 
 in which we know that their dust is hidden. The 
 history of mankind, in all ages, shows that the hu- 
 man heart clings to the grave of its disappointed 
 wishes ; that it seeks consolation in rearing emblems 
 
136 ON THE BUEIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 and monuments, and in collecting images of beauty 
 over the disappearing relics of humanity. This can 
 be fitly done, not in the tumultuous and harassing 
 din of cities, not in the gloomy and almost unap- 
 proachable vaults of charnel-houses, but amidst the 
 quiet verdure of the field, under the broad and 
 cheerful light of heaven, where the harmonious and 
 ever-changing face of nature reminds us, by its re- 
 suscitating influences, that to die is but to live 
 again. 
 
REPORT OF THE ACTION OF COCHITUATE WA- 
 TER ON LEAD PIPES, AND THE INFLUENCE 
 OF THE SAME ON HEALTH.* 
 
 The committee appointed by the Society of Medi- 
 cal Improvement in Boston, for investigating the 
 question of the occurrence of any diseases attribu- 
 table to the presence of lead in the aqueduct water 
 introduced into the city from the Cochituate Lake, 
 report as follows : — 
 
 That from an extensive inquiry among physicians, 
 and also from the bills of mortality, they are led to 
 believe that the health of the city of Boston has 
 been uncommonly good during several years, since 
 the introduction of Cochituate water ; and they have 
 not learned that any well-marked cases of the dis- 
 eases usually attributed to lead have occurred, 
 which were not traceable to some other cause than 
 the use of Cochituate water drawn from leaden 
 pipes. 
 
 It appears, from the experiments of Professor 
 Horsford, that the water of the Schuylkill and Croton 
 rivers, and of Jamaica and Cochituate lakes, ' acts 
 
 * From the American Journal of Medical Sciences for 18B2. 
 
138 ACTION OP COCHITUATE WATEE 
 
 upon the surface of lead so as to take up a small 
 portion of that metal during the first two or three 
 days of its contact. , But, after a few days, the sur- 
 face of the lead becomes coated with an insoluble 
 compound, which protects the lead for the most part 
 from the further action of the wafer. Nevertheless, 
 traces of lead are reported to have been found by 
 various chemists in specimens of some of these 
 waters, when greatly reduced by evaporation. 
 
 In consequence of the extensive use made of lead 
 for various economical purposes, no person in civi- 
 lized society can expect to escape from the reception 
 of that metal in minute quantities into the body. 
 The presence of lead in the paint of dwelling-houses 
 and furniture, of water-buckets and other culinary 
 apparatus, in vessels made of leaden alloys or sol- 
 dered with the same, in the lining of tearchests, in 
 flint-glass, and in the glazing of coarse pottery, fur- 
 nishes bjit a part of the examples which indicate 
 our exposure to receive this metal in our daily food. 
 To these examples it may be added, that physicians 
 give lead to their patients sometimes for weeks suc- 
 cessively, and apply solutions and solid compounds 
 of the metal to absorbing surfaces for longer peri- 
 ods ; that persons are known to carry shot and bul- 
 lets in their flesh during a long life ; and, finally, 
 that reliable chemists testify that lead naturally ex- 
 ists in the solids and fluids of man, and in those of 
 some of the animals on which he feeds. 
 
ON LEAD PIPES. _ 139 
 
 From all these facts we are authorized to draw 
 the conclusion, that, in the present state of our 
 knowledge, the existence of lead in a very minute 
 amount, like the presence of other substances in 
 infinitesimal quantities, is inoperative upon the liv- 
 ing body. 
 
 It is a general law known to medical men, and to 
 which there are not many exceptions, that diseases 
 and symptoms produced by specific metallic agents, 
 such as mercury, lead, and arsenic, do not cease 
 untn after the withdrawal of those agents. But it 
 appears from the records of the Massachusetts Gen- 
 eral Hospital during the last twenty years, as well 
 as from the private experience of physicians, that 
 many cases of lead colic and paralysis, acquired by 
 persons who work in that metal, have got well under 
 the daily use of water delivered from leaden pipes. 
 This would not probably have been the case, did the 
 water contain any deleterious amount of lead in 
 solution or suspension. 
 
 The principal diseases ascribed by Tanquerel, and 
 some subsequent writers, to the presence of lead, 
 are colic, paralysis, arthralgia, and encephalopathy. 
 Of these the committee have not been able to learn 
 that there has been any sensible increase in this city 
 since the introduction of Oochituate water. Of lead 
 colic, but one case has entered the hospital during 
 the last two years, which is a smaller proportion 
 than- the average of the preceding twenty years. 
 
140 ACTION OP COCHITUATB WATEB 
 
 Of lead paralysis there hare been but two cases 
 within the same period, both occurring to workmen 
 in lead. Of arthralgia, or pain in the joints or 
 Hmbs, directly traceable to lead, it is believed there 
 have not been a sufficient number of cases at any 
 time to attract extensively the notice of our phy- 
 sicians. As to encephalopathy, — a general term 
 used by some writers to express cerebral disease, 
 and including coma, delirium, convulsions, &c., — 
 there is apparently no more reason for attributing it 
 to lead, than consumption, fever, or any other com- 
 mon disease which may happen to occur among lead 
 workmen. 
 
 It is obvious to a medical reader, that many of 
 the cases detailed by writers on lead diseases are 
 coincidences rather than consequences; and there- 
 fore do not furnish a ground for general laws. 
 Such is the case when persons have been supposed 
 to have contracted lead diseases by sleeping in 
 newly-painted apartments, where, unless the lead 
 were volatile, it could not leave the walls to enter 
 the bodies of the patients. It is also the case when 
 solitary examples of common diseases are ascribed 
 to lead, when it is known that they more frequently 
 result from diflFerent causes. It is also often the 
 case when the reports of credulous and incompetent 
 observers are received as scientific authority. 
 
 In a late English Report by the Government 
 Commissioners, on the Chemical Quality of the Sup- 
 
ON LEAD PIPES. ' 141 
 
 ply of Water to the Metropolis of London, made 
 in 1851, by Drs. Th. Graham, W. A. Miller, and 
 A. W. Hoffman, men of high standing in the scien- 
 tific world, an investigation is made of the condition 
 of the various waters now supplied to that city. In 
 this Report, the Commissioners state (page 32) that 
 " no recent or authenticated case can be cited of the 
 health of any of the numerous towns, lately sup- 
 plied with soft water, being affected by the use of 
 leaden-distributing tubes." Again, on page 33, the 
 Commissioners say : " We are disposed, therefore, 
 to conclude that the danger from lead, in towns 
 supplied with water, has been overrated ; and that, 
 with a supply from the water companies not less 
 frequent than daily, no danger is to be apprehended 
 from the use of the present distributing apparatus, 
 with any supply of moderately soft water which the 
 metropolis is likely to obtain." 
 
 On the present occasion, it is by no means in- 
 tended to deny the well-known fact, that certain acid 
 liquors, also that the water of certain springs and 
 weUs, may and do act upon and even dissolve lead 
 in such quantities as to prove injurious to human 
 health. It is also possible, that, at certain seasons 
 and under certain cii'cumstances, the soft water of 
 lakes and rivers may contain organic or other pro- 
 ducts, which may take up in solution a minute por- 
 tion of the pipes through which they pass. And it 
 may even be conceded as possible, that a few sus- 
 
142 ACTION OP WATER ON LEAD PIPES. 
 
 ceptible and predisposed individuals will get lead 
 diseases while using this water. Nevertheless, lead 
 is a very convenient material to be used in aque- 
 ducts. It is more cheaply manufactured, more con- 
 veniently applied, and more readily repaired, than 
 any other material; and, while this is the case, 
 mankind will not be prevented from employing it. 
 The general law derived from the experience of the 
 large cities of this country and of Eitrope is, that 
 its employment for the conveyance of soft water 
 is safe. To this law the few recorded cases of dis- 
 ease, if genuine, must be regarded as exceptions. 
 And it should be borne in mind, that nearly all the 
 great agents which minister to the physical happi- 
 ness and improvement of man are fraught with 
 more or less danger. Ships and railroads, fire and 
 water, food, drink, and medicine, destroy annually 
 multitudes of our species. Nevertheless, all these 
 agents increase every year in use, with the increase 
 of wealth and civilization. And, as a humble exam- 
 ple under the same law, it is not probable that the 
 leaden aqueduct will be abandoned on account of 
 the inconsiderable risk which it may involve of oc- 
 casioning disease. Prom the present state of our 
 'knowledge, we are authorized to conclude that the 
 insurance on a citizen of Boston, New York, Phila- 
 delphia, or London, against lead colic, is probably 
 worth much less than his insurance would be on a 
 voyage across the Atlantic^ or on a railroad for 
 twenty miles. 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 A DISCOURSE DELIVERED BEFORE THE MASSACHUSETTS MEDICAL 
 SOCIETT, AT THEIR ANNUAL MEETING, MAY 27, 1836.* 
 
 The death of medical men is an occurrence which 
 eminently demands our attention ; for it speaks to 
 us of our science and of ourselves. It reminds us, 
 that we, in our turn, are to become victims of the 
 incompetency of our own art. It admonishes us 
 that the sphere of our professional exertions is lim- 
 ited at last by insurmountable barriers. It brings 
 with it the humiliating conclusion, that while other 
 sciences have been carried forward, within our own 
 time and almost under our own eyes, to a degree 
 of unprecedented advancement. Medicine, in regard 
 to some of its professed and most important objects, 
 is still an ineffectual speculation. Observations are 
 multiplied, but the observers disappear, and leave 
 their task unfinished. We have seen the maturity 
 
 * At the beginning of this discourse, the customary obituaij' notice was 
 taken of eminent members of the Society, deceased during the previous 
 year. 
 
 [143] 
 
144 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 of age and the ardent purpose of youth called oflf 
 from the half-cultivated field of their labors, expec- 
 tations, and promise. It becomes us to look upon 
 this deeply interesting subject with unprejudiced 
 eyes, and to endeavor to elicit useful truth from the 
 great lesson that surrounds us. 
 
 In comparing the advances which have been made 
 during the present age, in different departments of 
 Medical science, we are brought to the conclusion, 
 that they have not all been cultivated with- equally 
 satisfactory success. Some of them have received 
 new and important illustrations from scientific in- 
 quiry, but others are still surrounded with their 
 original difiBculties. The structure and functions 
 of the human body, the laws which govern the prog- 
 ress of its diseases, and more especially the diag- 
 nosis of its morbid conditions, are better understood 
 now than they were at the beginning of the present 
 century. But the science of therapeutics, or the 
 branch of knowledge by the application of which 
 physicians are expected to remove diseases, has not, 
 seemingly, attained to a much more elevated stand- 
 ing than it formerly possessed. The records of 
 mortality attest its frequent failures ; and the ina- 
 bility to control the event of diseases, which at 
 times is felt by the most gifted and experienced 
 practitioners, gives evidence that, in many cases, 
 disease is more easily understood than cured. 
 
 This deficiency of the healing art is not justly 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 145 
 
 attributable to any want of sagacity or diligence on 
 the part of the medical profession. It belongs 
 rather to the inherent difficulties of the case ; and 
 is, after abating the eflPect of errors and accidents, 
 to be ascribed to the apparent fact, that certain 
 morbid processes in the human body have a definite 
 and necessary career, from which they are not to be 
 diverted by any known agents with which it is in our 
 power to oppose them. To these morbid affections, 
 the duration of which, and frequently the event 
 also, are beyond the control of our present remedial 
 means, I have, on the present occasion, applied the 
 name of Self -limited diseases; and it wiU be the object 
 of this discourse to endeavor to show the existence 
 of such a class, and to inquire how far certain indi- 
 vidual diseases may be considered as belonging 
 to it. 
 
 By a self-limited disease, I would be understood 
 to express one which receives limits from its own 
 nature, and not from foreign influences : one which, 
 after it has obtained foothold in the system, cannot, 
 in the present state of our knowledge, be eradicated 
 or abridged by art, but to which there is due a 
 certain succession of processes, to be completed in 
 a certain time ; which time and processes may vary 
 with the constitution and condition of the patient, 
 and may tend to death or to recovery, but are not 
 known to be shortened or greatly changed by medi- 
 cal treatment. 
 
 10 
 
146 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 These expressions are not intended to apply to 
 the palliation of diseases, for he who turns a pillow, 
 or administers a seasonable draught of water to a 
 patient, palliates his sufferings ; but they apply to 
 the more important consideration of removing dis- 
 eases themselves, through medical means. 
 
 The existence of a class of diseases like those 
 under consideration is, to a certain extent, already 
 admitted, both by the profession and the public; 
 and this admission is evinced by the use of certain 
 familiar terms of expression. Thus, when people 
 speak of a " settled disease," or of the time of " th,e 
 run of a disease," it implies, on their part, a recog- 
 nition of the law, that certain diseases regulate their 
 own limits and period of continuance. 
 
 It is difficult to select a perfectly satisfactory or 
 convincing example of a self-limited disease from 
 among the graver morbid affections ; because, in 
 these affections, the solicitude of the practitioner 
 usually leads him to the employment of remedies, 
 in consequence of which the effect of remedies is 
 mixed up with the phenomena of disease, so that 
 the mind has difficulty in separating them. We 
 must, therefore, seek for our most striking or de- 
 cisive examples among those diseases which are 
 sufficiently mild not to be thought to require ordi- 
 narily the use of remedies, and in which the natural 
 history of the disease may be observed, divested of 
 foreign influences. Such examples are found in 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 147 
 
 the vaccine disease, the chicken-pox, and the saliva- 
 tion produced by mercury. These are strictly self- 
 limited diseases, having their own rise, climax, and 
 decline ; and I know of no medical practice which is 
 able, were it deemed necessary, to divert them from 
 their appropriate course, or hasten their termination. 
 
 It may appear to some, that the distinction of 
 these diseases from others is the old distinction of 
 acute and chronic. Yet, on due inquiry, such an 
 identification is not found to be sustained : for there 
 are some acute diseases which, we have reason to 
 believe, are shortened by the employment of reme- 
 dies ; while, on the other hand, certain chronic cases 
 of disease are known to get well spontaneously, 
 after years of continuance. 
 
 K the inquiry be made, why one disease has ne- 
 cessary limits while another is without them, the 
 reply is not uniform, nor always easy to be made. 
 Sometimes the law of the disease may be traced to 
 the nature of the exciting cause. Thus the morbid 
 poison of measles or of smaU-pox, when received 
 into the body, produces a self-limited disease ; but 
 the morbid poisons of psora and syphilis may give 
 rise to o^ers which are not limited, except by 
 medical treatment. Sometimes, also, the cause 
 being the same, the result will depend on the part, 
 organ, or texture which is afiFected. Thus, if we 
 divide with a cutting instrument the cellular or 
 muscular substance, we produce a self-limited dis- 
 
148 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 ease ; which, although it cannot by any art be healed 
 within a certain number of days or weeks, yet in 
 the end gets well spontaneously, by one process if 
 the lips are in contact, and by another and slower 
 process if they are separated.* But if, on the other 
 hand, we divide a considerable artery, we have then 
 an unlimited disease ; and the hemorrhage or the 
 aneurism which follows does not get well, except 
 through the interposition of art. 
 
 The class of diseases under consideration com- 
 prehends morbid affections, differing greatly from 
 each other in the time, place, and nature of their 
 spontaneous developments ; so that they may admit 
 of at least three general subdivisions. These may 
 be called, 1st. The simple; in which the disease 
 observes a continuous time, and mostly a definite 
 seat ; 2d. The paroxysmal ; in which the disease, 
 having apparently disappeared, returns at its own 
 periods; and, 3d. The metastatie ; in which the dis- 
 ease undergoes metastasis, or spontaneous change 
 of place. In the present state of our knowledge, 
 we have no difRculty in finding examples of each of 
 these subdivisions. There are also other examples, 
 in which the disease, although capable of being in 
 part influenced by medical treatment, still retains a 
 portion of its original intractability, and has strong 
 relations to the class in question. 
 
 * In one case, the disease is a solution of continuity'; in the other, a 
 solution of continuity and contact. 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 149 
 
 As a mode of directing our inquiries toward these 
 diseases, we may suspect those complaints to be self- 
 limited in which it is observed that the unwary and 
 the sceptical, who neglect to resort to remedies, re- 
 cover their health without them. We may also sus- 
 pect diseases to be of this character when we find 
 opposite modes of treatment recommended, and their 
 success vouched for, by practitioners of authority 
 and veracity. "We may, moreover, attach the same 
 suspicion to cases in which the supposed cure takes 
 place under chance apphcations or inconsiderable 
 remedies ; as in the empirical modes of practice on 
 the one hand, and the minute doses of the homoeo- 
 pathic method on the other. Lastly, we may ap- 
 prehend that cases are fatally self-limited,* when 
 enlightened physicians die themselves of the diseases 
 which they had labored to illustrate, — as in the 
 case of Corvisart, Laennec, Armstrong, and others. 
 
 In proceeding to enumerate more precisely some 
 of the diseases which appear to me to be self-lim- 
 ited in their character, I approach the subject with 
 diffidence. I am awar& that the works of med- 
 ical writers, and especially, of medical compilers, 
 teem with remedies and modes of treatment for all 
 diseases; and that, in the morbid affections of 
 
 * In the following article, " On the Treatment of Disease," it has been 
 fonnd conrenient to divide diseases into the cnrable, the self-limited, and 
 the incurable. In a general sense, however, the last term falls within the 
 second. 
 
150 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 which we speak, remedies are often urged with zeal 
 and confidence, even though sometimes of an op- 
 posite character. Moreover, in many places, at the 
 present day, a charm is popularly attached to what 
 is called an active, bold, or heroic practice ; and a 
 corresponding reproach awaits the opposite course, 
 which is cautious, palliative, and expectant. In 
 regard to the diseases which have been called self- 
 limited, I would not be understood to deny that 
 remedies capable of removing them may exist; I 
 would only assert that they have not yet been proved 
 to exist. 
 
 Under the simple self-limited diseases, we may 
 class hooping-cough. This disease has its regular 
 increase, height, and decline, occupying ordinarily 
 from one to six months, but in some mild cases only 
 two or three weeks. During this period, medical 
 treatment is for the most part of no avail. Nar- 
 cotic appliances may diminish the paroxysm, but 
 without abridging the disease. After hooping-cough 
 has reached its climax, change of air sometimes 
 appears to hasten convalescence. Also if inflam- 
 matory or other morbid affections supervene upon 
 the pure disease, they may become subjects for 
 medical treatment. With these exceptions, hoop- 
 ing-cough appears to be a self-limited disease. 
 
 Most of the class of diseases usually denomi- 
 nated eruptive fevers are self-limited. Measles, for 
 example, is never known to be cut short by art, or 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 151 
 
 abridged of its natural career; neither can this 
 career be extended, or the disease kept' in the sys- 
 tem beyond its natural duration, by the power of 
 medicine. Scarlet fever, a disease of which we have 
 had much and fatal experience during the last three 
 years, is eminently of the same character. The 
 reasons which induce me thus to regard it are the 
 following. The writings of medical observers agree 
 in assigning to it a common or average period of 
 duration, and this is confirmed by the observations 
 of practitioners at the present day. From this 
 average duration and character there are great 
 natural deviations ; the disease being sometimes so 
 slight as to attract the notice of none but medical 
 eyes, and sometimes so malignant that treatment is 
 admitted to be hopeless. The modes of treatment 
 which have had most testimony in their favor are 
 various and opposite. By Dr. FothergiU, stimu- 
 lants were relied on ; by Dr. Currie, cold water ; by 
 Dr. Southwood Smith, and others, blood-letting. 
 But it is not satisfactorily shown that either of 
 these niodes of practice has been particularly suc- 
 cessful; for, where the writers have furnished us 
 any thing like definite or numerical results, it does 
 not appear that the mortality was less in their hands 
 than it is among those who pursue a more expectant 
 practice. The post-mortuary appearances, which in 
 many diseases furnish useful lessons for practice, 
 are in scarlet fever extremely various and uncer- 
 
152 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 tain; and sometimes no morbid changes, sufficient 
 to account' for death, can be discovered in any of 
 the vital organs or great cavities. 
 
 Small-pox is another example of the class of af- 
 fections under consideration, its approach and dis- 
 appearance being irrespective of medical practice. 
 It may, at first view, appear that inoculation has 
 placed artificial limits on this disease. But it must 
 be recollected, that inoculated small-pox is itself 
 only a milder variety of the same disease, having 
 its own customary limits of extent and duration, 
 which are fixed quite as much as those of the dis- 
 tinct and confluent forms of the natural disease. 
 
 Erysipelas is an eruptive fever, having strong 
 analogies with those which have been detailed. It 
 is not certain that art can very materially affect 
 either the duration or the extent of this malady. 
 If a physician is called to a case of erysipelas, which 
 is beginning to be developed upon a part of the 
 face ; and if he is asked, whether the disease will 
 extend to the crown or the neck, or to the right 
 ear or the left, — he cannot tell. And if he is asked 
 to prevent it from visiting either of these places, I 
 know of no satisfactory evidence that he can do it. 
 
 Erysipelas, however, in a great number of sim- 
 ple or exanthematous cases, in subjects previously 
 healthy, gets well without any treatment ; and in a 
 great number of deep-seated and phlegmonous cases, 
 as well, as those in which vital organs are affected, 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 153 
 
 it proves fatal under the most approved methods of 
 medical and surgical practice. It is true that par 
 tients have recovered under punctures, incisions, 
 and cautery. It is also true that they have died 
 \mder the same operations : so that it may be sub- 
 mitted as a doubtful point, whether we yet possess 
 adequate evidence that erysipelas is not also a self- 
 limited disease. 
 
 It is a question of great interest to the medical 
 profession, to deterrnine whether typhoid fever is a 
 disease susceptible of control from medical means. 
 On this subject no one now doubts that, if the dis- 
 ease is once fairly established in the system, it can- 
 not be eradicated by art ; but must complete a certain 
 natural course, before convalescence can take place. 
 But a question stiU exists, whether this disease is 
 capable of being jugulated or broken up, at its 
 outset, by the early application of remedies. 
 
 It must be allowed that attacks of disease resem- 
 bhng those of typhoid sometimes speedily disappear 
 during the use of remedies ; but it is by no means 
 certain that sucli cases are actually cases of typhoid. 
 The diagnosis of this disease, during the first day 
 or two, is extremely difficult, its character being 
 simulated by different febrile and inflammatory 
 affections ; so that if a patient, under the use of 
 remedies, succeeds in avoiduig protracted disease, 
 we are not justified in saying that the disease he 
 has escaped was typhoid or typhus fever. Andral, 
 
164 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 « 
 
 whose experiments on the different modes of treat- 
 ment in continued fever are very extensive, has 
 stated that in a number of cases observed by him, 
 in which the fever was sufficiently intense, the dis- 
 ease ceased in twenty-four or forty-eight hours 
 without any treatment except that of rest and a 
 regulated diet* 
 
 Moreover, in weighing the influence of treatment, 
 it ought to be recollected, that during the existence 
 of any prevailing epidemic, mild cases, partaking of 
 a similar character to that of the reigning disease, 
 continually appear among the less susceptible part 
 of the community. Thus cholera is attended by 
 diarrhoea or cholerine, influenza by mild catarrh, 
 small-pox by varioloid, scarlet fever by slight sore 
 throats or ephemeral eruptions, &c. Now, although 
 these cases are in reality modified examples of the 
 grave diseases which they accompany, yet I believe 
 that no well-informed physician will attribute the 
 mildness or shortness of their character to his own 
 particular practice. 
 
 On the other hand, it is certain that cases of real 
 typhoid do often come under active treatment at an 
 early stage, without being broken up or disarmed 
 of their appropriate consequences. This particu- 
 larly happens when the disease is endemic in fami- 
 lies ; so that successive cases begin, as it were, under 
 the eye of the attending physician, who has every 
 
 * Clinique, iii. 619. 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 155 
 
 possible inducement to detect and prevent them, 
 if he can. In such families, indeed, it wiU some- 
 times happen that febrile attacks of different kinds, 
 consequent upon fatigue and anxiety, and perhaps 
 partaking of the typhoid character, will take place 
 among the friends and attendants of the sick ; and 
 these may disappear speedily under rest and evacu- 
 ations. But that grave and specific typhoid fever • 
 will thus disappear is a point of which we as yet 
 want proof. That it sometimes fails to disappear we 
 have abundant proof. 
 
 Typhoid fever has, in many respects, a marked 
 affinity with the class of eruptive fevers, which are 
 supposed to depend on a specific morbid poison, 
 and which no one pretends to intercept after the 
 body has become infected with them. Scarlet fever 
 and measles, for example, when once established, 
 require a certain number of days to finish their 
 course ; so also does typhoid. Scarlet fever and 
 measles can, in most cases, be had but once during 
 life ; but to this general rule there are exceptions. 
 The same is precisely true in regard to typhoid. The 
 contagiousness of scarlet fever is a point of dispute 
 among physicians ; and so is that of typhoid. Scar- 
 let fever is attended by an eruption on the skin. 
 Typhoid fever also has for one of its most constant 
 symptoms a red, lenticular eruption, consisting of a 
 few scattered rose-colored pimples, appearing chiefly 
 on the trunk, from about the sixth to the nineteenth 
 
156 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 day of the disease. There also occurs, in most 
 subjects, a minute, vesicular eruption of sudamina, 
 about the neck and elsewhere. In scarlet fever, 
 moreover, certain portions of the mucous membrane 
 undergo morbid alterations, particularly on the 
 tonsils and other parts of the fauces; and these 
 frequently degenerate into ulcers, affecting the sub- 
 jacent textures. In like manner, in typhoid fever, 
 the mucous membrane of the granular patches 
 in the small intestines, which have been named 
 after the anatomist Peyer, undergo morbid changes ; 
 and these changes are followed by ulcerations, and 
 sometimes perforations, of the intestine. This fact, 
 established by the researches of Louis and other 
 pathologists in Paris, has been abundantly confirmed 
 by post mortem examinations made in this country 
 during the last few years.* If it be objected to the 
 proposed classification of this fever, that the taches 
 are sometimes few in number, or wholly absent: 
 it is equally true, that the pustules of inoculated 
 small-pox are likewise often very few, or absent; 
 and that the eruption of scarlatina sometimes wholly 
 fails to appear. The sore throat also in the latter 
 disease is wanting quite as often, to say the least, as 
 the morbid affection of Peyer's glands. 
 
 Before quitting the subject, I beg leave to intro- 
 duce the opinion of one or two medical writers, in 
 regard to -the possibility of interrupting or breaking 
 
 * 1835. 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 157 
 
 up tliis disease by means of art. M. Louis, of 
 ■vrliose researches in regard to typhoid fever it is but 
 small praise to say that they are more exact and 
 comprehensive than those of any living writer, is 
 of opinion that the disease cannot be thus inter- 
 rupted. " Experience," says he, " has shown that 
 a well-marked typhoid affection is not capable of 
 being broken up." * To this testimony of one of the 
 most eminent teachers in the French metropolis, 
 it may not be amiss to add that of an American 
 physician, whose opportunities for observing the 
 disease in different parts of New England were ex- 
 tensive, and whose "Essay on Typhus Fever" well 
 merits an attentive perusal. The late Dr. Nathan 
 Smith, in the course of some remarks on the possi- 
 bility of interrupting this disease at commencement, 
 observes, " During the whole of my practice, I have 
 never been satisfied that I have cut short a single 
 case of typhus that I knew to be such." f 
 
 Having said thus much, I leave the subject of the 
 tractability of typhus and typhoid fever to the light 
 
 * " L'experience ayant monti^, que I'affection (ypholde bien carac- 
 t^ris^e, n'est pas susceptible d'etre jugul^e, ce qui n'est guere moins vrai, 
 d'aiUeurs, suivant toutes les apparences, de la peripneumonie et dea 
 autres maladies inflammatoires." — Lodis, Gastro-entirite, a. hli. 
 
 Andral says, in regard to the different modes of treatment in typhus, 
 " Quelles que soient les m^tbodes employees, il est nn certain nombre de 
 cas ou, sans que ces miihodes y prennent part, la nature conduit la mal- 
 adie a nne terminaison beureuse ou funeste." — Climque, i. 651. 
 
 t At tbe time of the publication alluded to, the distinction between 
 typhus and typhoid fevers had not been well made out. The distinction 
 is good, though writers of authority differ on the subject. 
 
158 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 of future investigation. It is but justice to state, 
 that numerous and highly respectable authorities 
 are declared in favor of the efficacy of art in short- 
 ening and mitigating these diseases ; and it will be 
 a source of gratification to the friends of humanity 
 and science, should it ultimately be settled, that the 
 active treatment now usually pursued at the com- 
 mencement of cases is instrumental in lessening 
 their duration, severity, or danger. 
 
 Among the morbid affections which have now 
 been enumerated may be found sufficient examples 
 of continued diseases which receive limits from their 
 own nature, and not from the interference of art. 
 Whether the number of these diseases may not be 
 augmented by additions from among other fevers 
 and acute inflammations, I am not prepared to de- 
 cide. It is difficult, however, to withhold the belief, 
 that a more extended inquiry must probably serve 
 greatly to multiply, rather than diminish, the num- 
 ber of maladies to which this character will be 
 found appropriate.* ^ 
 
 We come nest to a second order of self-limited 
 diseases, of which the term paroxysmal is sufficiently 
 descriptive. This term applies to certain morbid 
 affections, which occur in fits or paroxysms, leaving 
 
 * There is not room here to discuss the question whether pneumonia 
 and other acute inflammations fall under the category of self-limitation. 
 Blood-letting, in proper cases, apparently lessens the severity and danger 
 of these diseases. But it is not apparent that it abridges their duration. 
 Dysentery may be accounted a self-limited disease. 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 159 
 
 the patient comparatively well in the intervals ; at 
 the same time that the paroxysms themselves can 
 neither be foreseen, prevented, nor, as far as we 
 know, materially abridged in their duration. At 
 the head of this subdivision stands Epilepsy, a dis- 
 ease which has long been eminent as an opprobrium 
 of medicine, and for which it is believed the heal- 
 ing art has not yet devised a cure. The first at- 
 tacks of epilepsy, especially while there is any doubt 
 as to the nature of the malady, are usually made 
 the subjects of active and various treatment. But, 
 after the recurring paroxysms have established the 
 character of the disease, if active medical practice 
 is persevered in, it is rather to satisfy the anxiety 
 of friends than the judgment of the practitioner. 
 
 Angina pectoris, appropriately called by Dr. Good, 
 Sternalgia, is a paroxysmal disease, which in many 
 cases controls its own movements. The anatomical 
 character of this disease is not uniform ; and, I may 
 add, the same is true of its medical treatment. 
 And in this place it may be proper to state, that 
 various incurable lesions of the heart, lungs, brain, 
 and other viscera, do not apparently destroy life by 
 a regular, undeviating march; but that, as far as 
 their outward phenomena afford evidence, they seem 
 to proceed by alternate fits and pauses, undergoing 
 in their progress all states except that of retrogro/- 
 dation. This is apparently true in regard to tuber- 
 cle, carcinoma, ossification, hypertrophy, and some 
 
160 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 other morbid alterations. It is also even true in 
 regard to old age itself. 
 
 Thirty years ago we might have added gout to 
 the opprobrious list under consideration. But as we 
 may now be said to possess the means of shortening 
 the paroxysms by the use of certain acrid narcotics, 
 and as an abstemious life goes far towards lessening 
 the frequency and violence of the recurrence, we 
 may be justified in withdrawing gout from the place 
 it would otherwise occupy. 
 
 The diseases of mania and melancholy, asthma 
 when it depends on emphysema of the lungs, gravel 
 in the kidneys, and the symptoms produced by as- 
 carides in the rectum, furnish other examples of 
 maladies which manifest themselves in unforeseen 
 paroxysms. Cases which bear the names of all the 
 above diseases are undoubtedly relieved, and some- 
 times even removed, by medicine ; but it is equally 
 true that other cases are wholly intractable, both 
 as to their recurrence, their duration, and their sus- 
 ceptibility of much change from medical treatment. 
 And it will come to the recollection of many practi- 
 tioners, that they have, in the course of their lives, 
 believed themselves to have cured those diseases, 
 when in fact they have only witnessed the spontane- 
 ous subsidence of a paroxysm. 
 
 The last subdivision of our subject includes what 
 may be called metastatic diseases. By this term I 
 wish to express certain morbid affections, which 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 161 
 
 pass by metastasis from one part of the body to 
 another, for the most part independently of artificial 
 influence. Of this kind are certain cutaneous affec- 
 tions, more especially some which are chronic and 
 hereditary. Many persons pass a considerable por- 
 tion of their lives in alternate annoyance from a 
 disease of the skin, and from its vicarious substitute 
 in some internal organ. Others again are afflicted 
 with hemorrhagic or purulent discharges, which at 
 times disappear only to be succeeded by equally 
 troublesome affections in a different part. Q-onor- 
 rhma cannot be prevented from occasional metastasis 
 of inflammation ; and mumps are sometimes found 
 to undergo the same transition. But perhaps the 
 most remarkable example of a metastatic disease is 
 found in acute rheumatism. This morbid affection 
 often begins to discover itself in a limited and com- 
 paratively unimportant part of the system. Prom 
 thence, in grave cases, it travels by successive mi- 
 grations from joint to joint, and from limb to limb, 
 till it has visited nearly all the great articulations 
 of the body. It also attacks organs of sense, and 
 viscera which are essential to life. During the 
 course of these migrations, the attending physician 
 cannot foretell at any given stage what part will be 
 next invaded by the disease, neither can he protect 
 any part from being thus invaded ; nor can he con- 
 trol the period during which the disease will reside 
 in any particular part previously to its next metas- 
 
162 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 tasis. Nevertheless acute rheumatism is susceptible 
 of great palliation though of little abridgment, and, 
 after having run out its career, terminates in spon- 
 taneous recovery; not, however, in some cases, 
 until it has laid tlie foundation of serious organic 
 derangements, especially of the heart. 
 
 I forbear to dilate on the structural lesions of 
 diiferent organs, many of which can only be cured 
 by the extirpation of the part in which they reside, 
 thus sacrificing the integrity of the body to the 
 preservation of life ; and in which extirpation can- 
 not avail, when the seat of the disease is in a vital 
 part. I also pass over the pestilential epidemics of 
 plaigue, yellow fever, malignant dysentery, and chol- 
 era; diseases about which the medical profession 
 have great differences of opinion, and of which 
 thousands die annually, though hundreds of volumes 
 have been written for their preservation. 
 
 It may perhaps appear that the views which have 
 now been taken of the power of medicine, in so 
 large a class of diseases, are gloomy and discour- 
 aging ; and that an unworthy tribute is paid to the 
 labors of those physicians who have patiently studied 
 and ardently acted for the benefit of humanity. 
 Such views, however, are far from being the object 
 of the present discourse. Were it permitted by the 
 compass of the subject under consideration, it would 
 be a very grateful task to enumerate those maladies 
 of the human frame over which we have reason to 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 163 
 
 believe that medicine has obtained decisive influ- 
 ence. To a medical audience, it is unnecessary to 
 recall the instances of pain relieved, spasms con- 
 trolled, inflammations checked, and diseased associa- 
 tions broken up, under limitable diseases, by the 
 agency of the healing art. "Were there no other 
 trophy for the medical profession to boast, it is 
 sufficient to know that tlie diseases of small-pox 
 and syphilis alone would have entailed misery and 
 extermination on a large portion of our species, had 
 not medical science discovered the prevention of 
 the one, and the successful management of the 
 other. 
 
 But that the usefulness of our profession may 
 extend, our knowledge must go on to increase ; and 
 the foundation of all knowledge is truth. For truth, 
 then, we must earnestly seek, even when its develop- 
 ments do not flatter our professional pride, nor at- 
 test the infallibility of our art. To discover truth 
 in science is often extremely difficult ; in no science 
 is it more difficult than in medicine. Independently 
 of the common defects of medical evidence, our 
 self-interest, our self-esteem, and sometimes even 
 our feelings of humanity, may be arrayed against 
 the truth. It is difficult to view the operations of 
 nature, divested of the interferences of art ; so much 
 do our habits and partialities incline us to neglect 
 the former, and to exaggerate the importance of the 
 latter. The mass of medical testimony is always 
 
164 ON SBLP-LIMITEB DISEASES. 
 
 on the side of art. Medical books are prompt to 
 point out the cure of diseases. Medical journals 
 are filled with the crude productions of aspirants to 
 the cure of diseases. Medical schools find it in- 
 cumbent on them» to teach the cure of diseases. 
 The young student goes forth into the world, be- 
 lieving that if he does not cure diseases, it is his 
 own fault. Yet when a score or two of years have 
 passed over his head, he will come at length to the 
 conviction, that some diseases are controlled by na- 
 ture alone. He wiU often pause, at the end of a 
 long and anxious attendance, and ask himself how 
 far the result of the case is different from what it 
 would have been under less officious treatment than 
 that which he has pursued ; how many, in the accu- 
 mulated array of remedies which have supplanted 
 each other in the patient's chamber, have actually 
 been instrumental in doing him any good. He will 
 also ask himself whether, in the course of his life, 
 he has not had occasion to change his opinion, per- 
 haps more than once, in regard to the management 
 of the disease in question ; and whether he does not, 
 even now, feel the want of additional light. 
 
 Medicine has been rightly called a conjectural art ; 
 because, in many of its deductions, and especially 
 in those which relate to the cure of diseases, posi- 
 tive evidence is denied to us. We are seldom justi- 
 fied in concluding that our remedies have promoted 
 the cure of a disease, untO, we know that cases ex- 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 165 
 
 actly similar in time, place, and circumstances have 
 failed to do equally well under the omission of those 
 remedies ; and such cases, moreover, must exist in 
 sufficient numbers to justify the admission of a 
 general law on their basis. Nothing can be more 
 illogical than to draw our general conclusions, as 
 we are sometimes too apt to do, from the results of 
 insulated and remarkable cases, for such cases may 
 be found in support of any extravagance in medi- 
 cine ; and if there is any point in which the vulgar 
 differ from the judicious part of the profession, it 
 is in drawing premature and sweeping conclusions 
 from scanty premises of this kind. Moreover, it is 
 in many cases not less illogical to attribute the re- 
 moval of diseases, or even of their troublesome 
 symptoms, to the means which have been most re- 
 cently employed. It is a common error to infer, that 
 things which are consecutive in the order of time 
 have necessarily the relation of cause and effect. 
 It often happens that the last remedy used bears off 
 the credit of having removed an obstruction, or 
 cured a disease ; whereas in fact the result may have 
 been owing to the first remedy employed, or to the 
 joint effect of all the remedies, or to the act of na- 
 ture, uninfluenced by any of the remedies. We 
 see this remarkably exemplified in recoveries from 
 amenorrhoea and from various irregularities of the 
 alimentary canal. 
 
 An inherent difficulty, which every medical man 
 
166 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 finds to stand in the way of an unbiassed and satis- 
 factory judgment, is the heavy responsibility which 
 rests upon tlie issue of his cases. When a friend 
 or valuable patient is committed to our charge, we 
 cannot stand by, as curious spectators, to study the 
 natural history of his disease. We feel that we 
 are called on to attempt his rescue by vigorous 
 means, so that at least the fault of omission shall 
 not lie upon our charge. We proceed to put in 
 practice those measures which on the whole have 
 appeared to us to do most good ; and, if these fail 
 us, we resort to other measures, which we have read 
 of or heard of. And, at the end of our attendance, 
 we may be left in uncertainty whether the duration 
 of sickness has been shortened or lengthened by 
 our practice, and whether the patient is really in- 
 debted to us for good or evil. In the study of ex- 
 perimental philosophy, we rarely admit a conclusion 
 to be true, until its opposite has been proved to be 
 untrue. But in medicine we are often obliged to 
 be content to accept as evidence the results of cases, 
 which have been finished under treatment ; because 
 we have not the opportunity to know how far these 
 results would have been difierent, had the cases 
 been left to themselves. And it too frequently hap- 
 pens, that medical books do not relieve our difficul- 
 ties on this score ; for a great deal of our practical 
 literature consists in reports of interesting, extraor- 
 dinary, and successful results, published by men 
 
ON SELF-LIMITEjO DISEASES. 167 
 
 who have a doctrine to establish or a reputation to 
 build. " Pew authors," says Andral, ," have pub- 
 lished all the cases they have observed; and the 
 greater part have only taken the trouble to present 
 to us those facts which favor their own views." * A 
 prevailing error, among ' writers on therapeutics, 
 proceeds from their professional or personal reluc- 
 tance to admit that the healing art, as practised by 
 them, is not, or may not be, all-sufficient in all 
 cases ; so that on this subject they suifer themselves, 
 as well as their readers, to be deceived. Hence we 
 have no disease, however intractable or fatal, for 
 which the press has not poured forth its asserted 
 remedies. Even of late we have seen unfailing 
 cures of cholera, successively announced in almost 
 every city in which that pestilence, unchecked, has 
 completed its work of devastation ! 
 
 It is only when, in connection with these flatter- 
 ing exhibitions, we have a full and faithful report 
 of the failures of medical practice, in similar and 
 in common cases, setting forth not only the truth 
 but the whole truth, that we have a basis sufficiently 
 broad to erect a superstructure, in therapeutics, on 
 which dependence may be placed. Such, it must 
 give the friends of science gratification to observe, 
 is a part of the rigid method which characterizes the 
 
 • Bien pen d'autenrs ont public tous les cas qn'ils ont observes, et la 
 plnpart ne se sont empresses de nous transmettre que les faits que cares- 
 saient leurs id^es. — Clinique, iii. 618. 
 
168 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 hest examples of the modern French school ; and 
 such, it is not difficult to foresee, must ultimately he 
 the only species of evidence on this subject to 
 which the medical profession will pay deference. 
 
 It appears to me to be one of the most important 
 desiderata in practical me'dicine, to ascertain, in re- 
 gard to each doubtful disease, how far its cases are 
 really self-limited, and how far they are controllable 
 by any treatment. This question can be satisfac- 
 torily settled only by instituting, in a large number 
 of cases which are well identified and nearly simi- 
 lar, a fair experimental comparison of the different 
 active and expectant modes of practice, with their 
 varieties in regard to time, order, and degree. This 
 experiment is vast, considering the number of com- 
 binations which it must involve, and even much 
 more extensive than a corresponding series of 
 pathological observations ; yet every honest and in- 
 telligent observer may contribute to it his mite. 
 Opportunities for such observations, and especially 
 for monographs of diseases, are found in the prao- 
 tice of most physicians; yet hospitals and other 
 public charities afford the most appropriate field for 
 instituting them upon a large scale. The aggregate 
 of results, successful and unsuccessful, circumstan- 
 tially and impartially reported by competent observ- 
 ers, will give us a near approximation to truth, 
 in regard to the diseases of the time and place in 
 which the experiments are instituted. The numeri- 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 169 
 
 cal method employed by Louis in his extensive 
 pathological researches, and now adopted by his 
 most distinguished contemporaries in France, af- 
 fords the means of as near an approach to certainty 
 on this head, as the subject itself admits. And I 
 may add, that no previous medical inquirer has 
 apparently submitted to the profession any species 
 of evidence so broad in its foundations, and so con- 
 vincing in its results, as that vrhich characterizes 
 the great works of this author on Phthisis and Ty- 
 phoid fever. 
 
 In regard to acknowledged self-limited diseases, 
 the question will naturally arise, whether the prac- 
 titioner is called on to do nothing for the benefit of 
 his patient ; whether he shall fold his hands, and 
 look passively on the progress of a disease which he 
 cannot interrupt. To this I would answer, — by no 
 means. The opportunities of doing good may be 
 as great in these diseases as in any others ; for, in 
 treating every disease, there is a right method and 
 a wrong. In the first place, we may save the patient 
 from much harm, not only by forbearing ourselves 
 to afflict him with unnecessary practice, but also by 
 preventing the ill-judged activity of others. For 
 the same reason that we would not suffer him to 
 be shaken in his bed, when rest was considered ne- 
 cessary to him, we should not allow him to be tor- 
 mented with useless and annoying applications, in a 
 disease of settled destiny. It should be remem- 
 
170 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 bered, that all cases are susceptible of errors of 
 commission as well as of omission ; and that, by an 
 excessiye application of the means of art, we may 
 frustrate the intentions of nature when they are 
 salutary, or embitter the approach of death when 
 it is inevitable. What practitioner, I would ask, 
 ever rendered a greater service to mankind than 
 Ambrose Par^ and his subsequent coadjutors, who 
 introduced into modern surgery the art of healing by 
 the first intention ? Tliese men with vast difiSculty 
 succeeded in convincing the profession, that, instead 
 of the old method of treating incised wounds by 
 keeping them open with forcible and painful appli- 
 cations, it was better simply to place the parts se- 
 curely in their natural situation, and then to let 
 them alone. In the second -place, we may do much 
 good by a palliative and preventive course, by alle- 
 viating pain, procuring sleep, guarding the diet, 
 regulating the alimentary canal, — in fine, by obvi- 
 ating such sufferings as admit of mitigation, and 
 preventing or removing the causes of others which 
 are incidental, but not necessary, to the state of dis- 
 ease. In doing this, we must distinguish between 
 the disease itself, and the accidents of the disease ; 
 for the latter often admit of relief when the former 
 does not. We should also inquire whether the ori- 
 ginal cause of the disease or any accessory cause is 
 still operating, and, if so, whether it can in any 
 measure be prevented or removed ; as, for example, 
 
ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 171 
 
 when it exists in the habits of life of the patient, 
 in the local atmosphere, or in the presence of any 
 other deleterious agent. Lastly, by a just progno- 
 sis, founded on a correct view of the case, we may 
 sustain the patient and his friends during the inevi- 
 table course of the disease; and may save them 
 from the pangs of disappointed hope on the one 
 side, or of unnecessary despondency on the other. 
 It will be seen that, in the foregoing remarks, a 
 low estimate has been placed on the resources of 
 art, when compared with those of nature. But I 
 may be excused for doing this in the presence of an 
 audience of educated men, and the members of a 
 society whose motto is, Natwd duce. The longer 
 and the more philosophically we contemplate this 
 subject, the more obvious it will appear that 
 the physician is but the minister and servant of 
 nature ; that, in cases like those which have been 
 engaging our consideration, we can do little more 
 than follow in the train of disease, and endeavor to 
 aid nature in her salutary intentions, or to remove 
 obstacles out of her path. How little, indeed, could 
 we accomplish without her aid ! It has been wisely 
 observed, by Sir Gilbert Blane, that " the benefit 
 derivable to mankind at large, from artificial reme- 
 dies, is so limited, that, if a spontaneous principle 
 of restoration had not existed, the human species 
 would long ago have been extinct."* 
 
 * Medical Logic, p. 49. 
 
172 ON SELF-LIMITED DISEASES. 
 
 The importance and usefulness of the medical 
 profession, instead of being diminished, will always 
 be elevated exactly in proportion as it understands 
 itself, weighs justly its own powers, and professes 
 simply what it can accomplish. It is no derogation 
 from the importance of our art, that we cannot 
 always control the events of life and death, or even 
 of health and sickness. The incompetency which 
 we feel in this respect is shared by almost every 
 man upon whom the great responsibilities of society 
 are devolved. The statesman cannot control the 
 destinies of nations, nor the mihtary commander 
 the event of battles. The most eloquent pleader 
 may fail to convince the judgment of his hearers, 
 and the most skilful pilot may not be able to 
 weather the storm. Yet it is not the less necessary 
 that responsible men should study deeply and un- 
 derstandingly the science of their respective voca- 
 tions. It is not the less important, for the sake of 
 those whose safety is, and always will be,'committed 
 to their charge, that they should look with unbiassed 
 judgment upon the necessary results of inevitable 
 causes. And while an earnest and inquiring solici- 
 tude should always be kept alive, in regard to the 
 improvement of professional knowledge, it should 
 never be forgotten, that knowledge has for- its only 
 just and lasting foundation a rigid, impartial, and 
 inflexible requisition of the truth. 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, DELIVERED BEFORE THE MEDICAL 
 CLASS AT THE MASSACHUSETTS MEDICAL COLLEGE IN BOSTON, 
 NOV. 8, 1852. 
 
 Op the sciences which have most occupied the time 
 and labor of mankind, a certain number lead, by 
 their investigations, to clear and positive results; 
 and enlarge the amount of human knowledge, by 
 the discovery and promulgation of absolute truth. 
 Another portion lead only to results which are prob- 
 able or presumptive in their character, and which 
 furnish to mankind rules of action, in cases where 
 better lights cannot be obtained. To the former 
 class has been given the name of exact sciences, 
 and to the latter the name of presumptive or con- 
 jectural sciences. Mathematics form an exact sci- 
 ence, on the conclusions of which, when once 
 known, there can be no difference of opinion. In 
 like manner, chemistry and mechanics, astronomy 
 and portions of natural history, are examples of 
 exact sciences ; the demonstrations of which, when 
 
 once made clear, may afterwards be modified and 
 
 [173] 
 
174 ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 
 
 enlarged, but are never fundamentally shaken. On 
 the other hand, the important sciences of ethics and 
 politics, of commerce and finance, of government 
 and speculative theology, are inexact in many of 
 their principles, as is proved by the widely diffbrent 
 constructions under which men receive them and 
 apply them to practice. 
 
 It would at first seem that the exact sciences 
 were those most worthy the cultivation of intelligent 
 minds, inasmuch as they lead to satisfactory, and 
 therefore to gratifying, results ; and because, in their 
 more elevated departments, they involve and require 
 some of the highest reaches of the human intellect. 
 But in the opinions of mankind, as evinced by their 
 practice, the opposite judgment prevails ; and proba- 
 bly nine tenths of the labor of educated and intel- 
 lectual men are employed on studies which are, in 
 their nature, uncertain and conjectural. 
 
 The cause of this great ascendency in the atten- 
 tion given to the inexact sciences is to be foiind in 
 the vast and paramount importance of their subjects, 
 and also in the difficulty of consummating their 
 great ends. It is niuch more important to mankind 
 to know how to avoid anarchy and crime, war, 
 famine, poverty, and pestilence, than it is to know 
 that the planet Saturn has a ring, or that a lily has 
 six stamens, that light can be polarized, or that 
 potass can be decomposed. Yet, while the latter 
 propositions are susceptible of absolute demonstra- 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 175 
 
 tion, the former processes, which hear directly on 
 human happiness or misery, are frequently removed 
 beyond our foresight or control. The wisest men 
 often fail to influence the destinies of states, fami- 
 lies, and individuals ; and the shrewdest calculators 
 are baffled in regard to a coming crop, a pecuniary 
 crisis, a glut in the commercial market, or a change 
 in the public morals. Nevertheless, the wise man, 
 conscious of superior talent, and the philanthropist, 
 desirous of the public weal, and even the interested 
 man, who looks to his personal advantage and prog- 
 ress, must give -themselves and their energies to 
 studies which involve the immediate wants of their 
 fellow-men, eyen though their best-directed efforts 
 should fail of the desired results. And the simple 
 reason is, that, if the best-qualified minds decline 
 to undertake this task, it will most assuredly be as- 
 sumed by the ignorant and presumptuous. 
 
 Pre-eminent among the inexact and speculative 
 sciences stands practical medicine, a science older 
 than civilization, cultivated and honored in all ages, 
 powerful for good or for evil, progressive in its char- 
 acter, but still unsettled in its principles ; remunera- 
 tive in fame and fortune to its successful cultivators, 
 and rich in the fruits of a good conscience to its 
 honest votaries. Encumbered as it is with diffi- 
 culty, fallacy, and doubt, medicine yet constitutes 
 one of the most attractive of the learned professions. 
 It is largely represented in every city, village, and 
 
176 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 hamlet. Its imperfections are lost sight of in the 
 overwhelming importance of its objects. The liv- 
 ing look to it for succor ; the dying call on it for 
 rescue. 
 
 The greatest boons and the most important ob- 
 jects presented to our aspirations in this life are 
 not to be approached through paths which are 
 straight and unmistakable. The avenues to most 
 of them are shadowed by doubts, or clogged with 
 incessant obstacles. Next to the spiritual welfare 
 of men, the preservation of their lives, the peace 
 and safety of their communities, the acquirement 
 and preservation of their worldly goods are among 
 the objects which take strongest hold on their de- 
 sires. Yet grave doubts are justifiable, whether 
 any precise means have yet been agreed upon by 
 which these desirable ends can with certainty be at- 
 tained. And if any one deems it a reproach on 
 medicine, that its cultivators have not arrived at a 
 common faith and practice, let him consider whether 
 the laborers in other fields, however honest their in- 
 tentions, are agreed in their theological creeds and 
 political platforms. 
 
 Considering the great importance of the objects 
 of medicine, the frequent and earnest appeals made 
 for its assistance, and the vast sums annually ex- 
 pended in its remuneration, it is not surprising that 
 disappointment and complaint often follow the fail- 
 ures, necessary or unnecessary, of medical practice. 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 177 
 
 "Man is of few days, and full of trouble." Yet, 
 in the face of this acknowledged truth, he requests 
 and expects that his physician will provide him with 
 many days, and remove at least his bodily troubles. 
 This expectation on his part is reasonable or other- 
 wise, according to the circumstances undfer which it 
 is made. It is unreasonable, if his case is helpless, 
 and he is merely paying the debt of suffering and 
 death which his mortal nature exacts. But it is 
 reasonable and proper, if his complaint is of a cura- 
 ble kind ; or if, whether curable or not, his physician 
 has claimed and vaunted the power to remove it. 
 
 Most men form an exaggerated estimate of the 
 powers of medicine, founded on the common accep- 
 tation of the name, that medicine is the art of cur- 
 ing diseases. Tl\at this is a false definition, is 
 evident from the fact that many diseases are incura- 
 ble, and that one such disease must at last happen 
 to every living man. A far more just definition 
 would be, that medicine is the art of understanding 
 diseases, and of curing or relieving them when pos- 
 sible. Under this acceptation, our science would at 
 least be exonerated from reproach, and would stand 
 on a basis capable of supporting a reasonable and 
 durable system for the amelioration of human mala- 
 dies. 
 
 Every young man, who proposes to become a 
 member of the medical profession, should ask him- 
 self whether he considers medicine a liberal and 
 
 12 
 
178 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 honorable science, to be followed for the good it may 
 do to mankind ; or as a dishonest trade, to be pur- 
 sued for the purpose of profiting himself by the 
 deception of his fellow-men. If he accepts his pro- 
 fession in the first sense, he will strive to understand 
 his science' in all its bearings, and practise it with 
 conscientiousness and fidelity ; if in the latter, he 
 will put his conscience aside, and study only the 
 low arts which entrap the credulous and unwary. 
 
 With the trade of medicine I have nothing to do. 
 Knowing that I address an ingenuous and cultivated 
 audience, composed mainly of young men who are 
 looking forward to an honest and honorable place 
 in professional life, I make no apology for proceed- 
 ing to express my belief of the manner in which 
 medicine should be practised and disease treated, 
 for the reciprocal benefit of him who gives and of 
 him who receives its aids. 
 
 Let no one deceive himself by believing that suc- 
 cess, stable, permanent, honorable success, can be 
 attained without knowledge of the great principles 
 of the profession and science of medicine. This 
 knowledge must consist in an accurate acquaintance 
 with the structure and offices of the human body, 
 and the laws of its healthy condition. After these 
 follows the science of pathology, involving the great 
 and fundamental art of diagnosis, by which the dis- 
 eases of the human body are detected, and distin- 
 guished rightly from each other. The power of 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 179 
 
 distinguishing diseases lies at the root of all correct 
 and enlightened practice, and without it all medical 
 action is empirical and fortuitous. There is. no 
 more pernicious error than for a physician to be- 
 lieve that he can prescribe safely for the symptoms 
 of a sick man, without understanding, in some 
 measure, the nature of his disease. Symptoms are 
 of various import, according to the seat of their 
 origin and the nature of their causes ; and if taken 
 alone, without a correct interpretation of these at- 
 tendant considerations, they often lead to a wrong 
 result, or to no result at all. A patient not xmfre- 
 quently sends for a physician on accoimt of a certain 
 symptom which is distressing him, and which may 
 be, for example, a pain in the abdomen or in the 
 head. Now, a pain in the abdomen may arise from 
 colic or peritonitis, from rheumatism or neuralgia, 
 from dysentery, from calculus, carcinoma, or stran- 
 gulation. And, in like manner, a pain in the head 
 may arise from a multitude of different and even 
 opposite causes. Now it is well known that the kiad 
 of treatment which is effectual in one case is per- 
 nicious in another ; and he who prescribes for the 
 symptom irrespectively of the cause, is quite ad 
 likely to do mischief to his patient as good, and 
 quite as likely to destroy life as to save it. 
 
 If the question be asked, what makes a great 
 physician, and one who is appealed to by his peers, 
 and by the discerning portion of the public, for 
 
180 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE, 
 
 council in difficult cases, I would answer, that he is 
 a great physician who, above other men, understands 
 diagnosis. It is not he who promises to cure all mal- 
 adies ; who has a remedy ready for every symptom, 
 or one remedy for all symptoms ; who hoasts that 
 success never fails him, when his daily history gives 
 the lie to such assertion. It is rather he who, with 
 just discrimination, looks at a case in all its diffi- 
 culties ; who, to habits of correct reasoning, adds 
 the acquirements obtained from study and obser- 
 vation ; who is trustworthy in common things for 
 his common sense, and in professional things for his 
 judgment, learning, and experience ; who forms his 
 opinion, positive or approximative, according to the 
 evidence ; who looks at the necessary results of in- 
 evitable causes ; who promptly does what man may 
 do of good, and carefully avoids what he may do 
 of evil. Examples are rare of this perfection ; yet, 
 for an approach to such a standard of professional 
 excellence, I would venture to direct your remem- 
 brance to the venerable ex-professor, fortunately yet 
 among us, of the theory and practice in this Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 ■ Every citizen, whose capacity is able to reach the 
 ordinary affairs of life, is aware that the persons 
 most capable of discharging the common offices, or 
 of exercising the common arts and duties of life, 
 are the individuals who have, by talents, education, 
 and practice, become experts in those arts and 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 181 
 
 duties ; and that, on the other hand, those persons 
 who profess to have acquired knowledge by intui- 
 tion, to have become learned without labor, and to 
 have arrived by short cuts at results and quali- 
 fications which demand years of preparatory train- 
 ing, must be incompetent and treacherous sources 
 of reliance. And it is the general admission of 
 this truth which gives support and confidence to 
 the various professions, arts, and callings to wliich 
 men devote their lives. 
 
 A little machine, called a watch, is carried about by 
 most persons ; and, when this machine has stopped 
 or is out of order, they do not lay their own igno- 
 rant hands upon it, but submit the case to the skill 
 of an expert, who is known to be qualified to judge 
 and act in such cases. It is the duty of this artist, 
 when applied to, to examine the interior of the 
 watch ; to ascertain, by the use of his skill, in what 
 part the disease is situated ; and to apply to that 
 part the appropriate remedy. If a spring or a chain 
 is broken, it must be restored ; if the wheels are 
 out of gear, they must be put in place ; if the hands 
 only have caught, they have only to be liberated, 
 and if the pivots are dry and rough, they must be 
 oiled or cleaned ; and, lastly, if the watch has had 
 a destructive fall, if it has been crushed by being 
 trodden on, if it has lain a month in the salt water, 
 or if it is worn out by running steadily for three- 
 score years and ten, then the case is incurable ; and 
 
182 ON THE TBEATMENT OF DISEASE. 
 
 the only palliative advice -which the practitioner can 
 render is, that the owner should procure a new 
 watch, or reconcile himself to do without one. 
 
 But suppose there resides in the place a watch- 
 doctor who prescribes for symptoms, and who, among 
 other things, has a remedy for the symptom of stop- 
 ping ; and that this remedy consists in a certain kind 
 of friction, shaking, or manipulation, an ointment 
 applied to the outside, or an invisible particle of 
 some nugatory substance inserted into the inside; 
 and suppose that one or two watches in a hundred, 
 which had stopped by accident, should by accident 
 resume their motions under such treatment, — could 
 any thing but the most unmitigated folly draw the 
 inference, that such a person is entitled to become 
 the accredited horologer to the community? 
 
 What is so conspicuously true in the common 
 business of life, is only an example of what is more 
 vitally true in the practice of medicine. If a man 
 has had the misfortune to get a shot or a stab in his 
 body, he does not need a doctor who administers a 
 specific dose or a sovereign plaster for holes iii the 
 body : he wants a man who can tell him whether 
 the wound has passed inside or outside of his peri- 
 toneum, and whether it is requisite for him to make 
 his will or to make arrangements for pursuing his 
 journey. 
 
 But the prescribing for symptoms in the dark is 
 not the only instance in which false logic has en- 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 183 
 
 tered into medical reasoning. It is not less absurd 
 to suppose, that disconnected events, whicli have 
 closely followed each other, have therefore a neces- 
 sary dependence upon each other. Shrewd, practi- 
 cal men do not thus govern themselves in the 
 common affairs of life. A merchant, about to send 
 a ship to sea, endeavors to find a captain to take 
 charge of her who understands navigation, who can 
 keep his run and determine his place, who studies 
 the weather and is on the look-out for a lee shore, 
 and who in emergencies can judge whether it is 
 necessary or not to cut away tlie masts or throw 
 over the cargo. But suppose a man appears, and 
 such have been, who announces that he has a speci- 
 fic bottle of oil with which he cures tempests, and 
 by pouring a teaspoonful of which upon the waves 
 the storm is speedily made to cease ! Would any 
 prudent owner intrust his vessel to such a man 
 and on such grounds, even though he should pro- 
 duce a hundred certificates that storms had stopped 
 in half a day or half an hour after the application 
 of his remedy ? For these certificates, if true, would 
 only prove, that, in a certain number of cases, a re- 
 sult had followed by accident, which common sense, 
 and if necessary a thousand opposite cases, would 
 show had nothing to do with the pretended cause. 
 
 What would be true of the apparent or alleged 
 cure of a tempest at sea, is no less true of the 
 pseudo-cures which every day take place in diseases 
 
184 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 which are self-limited, paroxysmal, or recidivous in 
 their character. There are doubtless living many 
 men who believe themselves to have been cured half 
 a dozen times of various diseases, of fevers and in- 
 flammations, of neuralgia, rheumatism, gout, and 
 asthma, and each time perhaps by a different rem- 
 edy ; but who, on the next imprudence or returning 
 period, are destined to find themselves feverish, 
 neuralgic, gouty, or asthmatic still. 
 
 Deceptions in medicine are occasioned not only 
 by the dishonesty of charlatans, but quite as often by 
 the well-meaning credulity of other practitioners, 
 whose intellect is impulsive or whose education has 
 been unduly curtailed. It is so flattering to a man's 
 self-love to believe that his chance shots have some- 
 times taken effect, that physicians of regular posi- 
 tion may pass their lives in mere speculative and 
 random efforts at curing diseases, shutting their 
 eyes against their own failures, and not allowing 
 themselves to consider, that, in a certain portion of 
 successful cases which they had failed to under- 
 stand, the disease in truth got well without, or per- 
 haps in spite of, their misdirected and embarrassing 
 practice. 
 
 Medicine is a great good, and an unquestionable 
 blessing to mankind, when it is administered by 
 discriminating and intelligent hands with sincerity 
 and good judgment. It disappoints expectation, 
 and fails to accomplish its mission, when the agent 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 185 
 
 who dispenses it falls into the mistaken resource of 
 professing infallibility, and of raising hopes which 
 he knows not how to accomplish. No man is deemed 
 to he safe in his worldly affairs who is afraid to look 
 into his own pecuniary condition. Neither is a phy- 
 sician safe in his practice or his reputation who is 
 afraid to face the case of his patient in all its bear- 
 ings. That man is most to be relied on who looks 
 calmly and xinderstandingly at the emergency before 
 him ; who knows the import of signs, and deduces 
 from them the probable tenor of coming events; 
 who is aware of the great truth, that all men must 
 die, but is also aware of the more gratifying truth, 
 that most sick men recover ; and who, in particular 
 exigencies, inquires of his reason and his knowledge 
 in which of these two immediate categories his pa- 
 tient is placed, and how far the event of the case is 
 within his control. He will then interfere or he 
 will wait, he will act or he will forbear, as he only 
 knows how who can form a correct verdict from the 
 evidence before him, and who knows the immeas- 
 urable good or harm which hangs on medical prac- 
 tice. 
 
 The tulgar standard of medical character depends 
 very much on the supposed successful result of 
 cases. 'But this is not the true standard, for the 
 best physicians as well as the most popular practi- 
 tioners often lose their patients, and even their own 
 lives, from common diseases ; while, on the other 
 
186 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 hand, the most injudicious treatment and the most 
 reckless exposures are not unfrequently survived. 
 Laennec and Bichat, two of the most distinguished 
 lights of modern medicine, died of the very diseases 
 they were themselves investigating. Priessnitz, the 
 prince of modern empirics, himself a robust peas- 
 ant, died of premature disease at the age of fifty- 
 two, in the midst of his own water-cure. It is well 
 known that the most thronged and popular places 
 of resort for grave, difficult, and intractable cases, 
 are those from which there are most funerals. On 
 the other hand, men support life in certain cases 
 under every extreme of opposite treatment, under 
 ultra-depletion and ultra-stimulation, under heroic 
 practice and nugatory practice, under " hot drops " 
 and cold douches, under drachm doses of calomel, 
 and imponderable doses of moonshine. Clot Bey, 
 and his two or three associate Frenchmen, entered 
 a plague hospital at Cairo in the height of the epi- 
 demic. They shut themselves up in the concen- 
 trated atmosphere of the infection, they remained 
 in bed in contact with dying patients, they wore 
 the shirts of those who had just expired, they in- 
 oculated themselves with the secretions of pestilen- 
 tial buboes, — and all to no purpose. They were 
 alive some years afterwards, and quarrelling with 
 each other for the glory of their hair-brained enter- 
 prise. Four thieves in the plague at Marseilles 
 freely prosecuted their robberies in the infected 
 
ON THE TEEATMBNT OF DISEASE. 187 
 
 houses of the dead and dying; and the aromatic 
 Tinegar, which has immortalized their prophylactic 
 practice, was very probably an impromptu invention 
 got up by them to procure their exemption from 
 punishment. 
 
 The humility which we may learn from thcjjim- 
 ited influence of our art on the health and lives of 
 mankind, is probably a far safer guide to a correct 
 practice than the fanatical confidence with which 
 unenlightened ultraists of every sect carry out their 
 respective dogmas. In a sphere of action where 
 some good may always be done, and where much 
 harm often is done, and " fools rush in where angels 
 fear to tread," it is well to consider some of the 
 rules which may lead an honest inquirer after truth 
 to the nearest attainment of a correct judgment and 
 practice. 
 
 Supposing, what I would fain wish might always 
 happen, that the physician is duly and thoroughly 
 imbued with knowledge of his science, the first 
 great question, which presents itself, in every case 
 or emergency, is that which involves the diagnosis. 
 This being established, the practitioner is enabled 
 to avail himself of the lights of reason and experi- 
 ence in regard to a correct course of therapeutic 
 proceeding. But it. often happens that the nature 
 of the case cannot be made out in one, or two, or 
 three interviews with the patient ; and we are obliged 
 to wait for the gradual development of diagnostic* 
 
188 ON THK TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 symptoms, as a judge and jury in a like case would 
 be expected to postpone, or wait for the arrival of 
 witnesses. It is a mistaken pride which leads phy- 
 sicians to commit themselves by an oracular guess 
 at first sight, which the events of the succeeding 
 day may show to have been erroneous. Moreover, 
 if, from the obscure character of the case or the 
 imperfection of our science, diagnosis is impossible, 
 we should then so generalize our treatment that we 
 may include what is possible of good, and exclude 
 what is probable of harm. 
 
 Having settled, as well as our means admit, the 
 pathological condition of our patient, the next ques- 
 tion is that which regards the probable tendency of 
 the disease if left to itself. Attention to this point 
 is of high importance ; since it will prevent us from 
 neglecting our patients in grave and dangerous af- 
 fections, as well as from annoying them with use- 
 less appliances in short, safe, or unimportant cases. 
 Many diseases are insidious in their origin. The 
 nervous imbeciUty which has its foundation laid in 
 modern schools, the slight cough and evening flush 
 
 - which herald approaching phthisis, soon get beyond 
 the reach of medical means, unless seasonably 
 detected by the wary eye of the practitioner. A 
 simple discharge from the ear may terminate in 
 deafness, and an ulcer of the cornea in loss of sight. 
 A protracted intermittent at length undermines the 
 
 "health, and neglected syphilis ends in a miserable 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 189 
 
 death. Cases like these require prompt and ener- 
 getic interference on the part of the practitioner. 
 On the other hand, diseases which are light in them- 
 selves, and., tend to speedy recovery, as .common 
 catarrh, hooping-cough, varicella, and a host of 
 other things, if they occur in healthy subjects, and 
 are not complicated with graver affections, may 
 safely be left to themselves, or treated with the 
 mildest remedies and cautionary measures. 
 
 Another most important question, exercising the 
 hopes and fears of every practitioner, from its con- 
 nection with reputation, safety, and life, is that which 
 relates to the curability of diseases. Is the disease 
 amenable to medical treatment, or not ? If the case 
 is of a recoverable character, and happily a great 
 majority of our cases are so, the physician should 
 anxiously and carefully have recourse to the re- 
 corded authorities of his science, and to his own 
 personal experience. In doing this, he should be- 
 ware of implicitly trusting those who have published 
 only the favorable side of their practice, preferring 
 to build up a temporary reputation rather than to 
 promulgate unpopular truths. And, in analyzing his 
 own experience, he should equally beware of hasty 
 generalizations, of impressions made by remarkable 
 examples, rather than by aggregates of well-observed 
 and duly arranged cases, trom which alone impartial 
 and correct inferences are to be drawn. 
 
 In accordance with such views, we shall find 
 
190 ON THE . TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 many cases -which are, for the most part, capable of 
 being arrested or broken up by the interposition 
 of remedies. Thus, the grave and various symp- 
 toms which result from an overloaded stomach are 
 at once removed by the action of an emetic, or 
 sometimes of a laxative ; colic in like manner yields 
 to opium or to purgatives ; syphilis is cured by 
 mercury, and sometimes without it ; and certain in- 
 flammatory attacks apparently yield to ' seasonable 
 depletion. Moreover, in other cases which cannot 
 be thus arrested, but which, from their nature, must 
 run a destined course, it is generally admitted that 
 the safety of the patient may be promoted, or per- 
 haps the duration of the case abridged, by remedial 
 treatment. This is believed to be true in regard to 
 evacuations at the commencement of febrile and 
 inflammatory diseases, and to a multitude of other 
 remedies applicable in various cases. But on this 
 subject it is extremely difficult to' obtain decisive 
 and satisfactory knowledge. It involves a question, 
 the settlement of which is to be approached by ex- 
 tensive and contrasted numerical observations, a 
 large portion of which yet remain to be made, al- 
 though we have valuable contributions and examples 
 on many subjects. 
 
 On the other hand, when we know that a case is 
 self-limited or incurable, we are to consider how far 
 it is in our power to palliate or diminish suflerings 
 which we are not competent to remove. Here is a 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 191 
 
 most important field for medical practice, and one 
 ■which calls for an exceedingly large portion of the 
 time and efforts of every physician. When we con- 
 sider that most diseases occupy, from necessity, a 
 period of some days or weeks ; that many of them 
 continue for months, and some for years ; and 
 finally that a large portion of mankind die of some 
 lingering or chronic disease, — we shall see that the 
 study of palliatives is not only called for, but really 
 constitutes one of the most common, as well as the 
 most useful and beneficent-, employments of a medi- 
 cal man. 
 
 In the use of efficient remedies, much depends 
 upon deciding the proper stage or time to which 
 their employment is applicable. Some curative 
 agents can with propriety be used only at the outset 
 of the diseases ; and, if this opportunity is lost, the 
 remedies are afterwards, less effectual, and perhaps 
 even injurious. Venesection, in the early stage of 
 certain acute diseases, may be productive of great 
 good ; in the middle stages it is of less benefit, or 
 of none at all ; and in the latter stages it is injuri- 
 ous and inadmissible. On the other hand, wine 
 and opiates, which are strongly contrarindicated in 
 the first stage, are afterwards not only tolerated 
 with impunity, but in certain cases are taken with 
 decided benefit. 
 
 But, gentlemen, the agents which we oppose to 
 the progress of disease may, by excessive or ill- 
 
192 ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 
 
 timed application, become themselves the pregnant 
 sources of disease. Every prudent practitioner is 
 bound to consider the effect and tendency of the 
 remedy he is using, and to inquire whether the 
 means employed to counteract the existing disease 
 are not, in their turn, likely to produce evil to 
 the patient ; and, if so, whether the evil will be 
 greater or less than the disease for which they are 
 administered. The sudden healing of an old ulcer, 
 issue, or eruption, may be followed by symptoms 
 more serious in their character than those which 
 have been removed. Many remedial processes, if 
 employed in excess or with injudicious frequency, 
 result in permanent injury to the patient. The 
 habitual use of active cathartics, although attended 
 with temporary relief, seldom fails to bring on or 
 aggravate a permanent state of costiveness. Large 
 and often-repeated blood-letting tends to the estab- 
 lishment of debility and anemia in some subjects, 
 or of re-action and plethora in others. Opium and 
 other narcotics are in themselves, if abused, fertile 
 sources of disease. The modern crying evil of poly- 
 pharmacy and over-medication is profitable to the 
 druggist, habitual to too many physicians, and an- 
 noying, if not detrimental, to most patients. 
 
 On account of these and similar considerations, 
 much discretion is needed on the part of the physi- 
 cian to enable him to judge rightly of the kind of 
 treatment which it may be safe and proper to em- 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 193 
 
 ploy, and of the degree and amount of that treat- 
 ment, and of the requisite length of time for its 
 continuance. Medical practice, in many cases, points 
 to the direct substitution of a positive good for a pos- 
 itive evil ; but unfortunately, in other cases, it admits 
 only of a choice between evils ; and in these cases 
 not only the knowledge and experience, but also the 
 judgment and common sense, of the practitioner, 
 are put in indispensable requisition to lead him to a 
 correct issue. 
 
 It is wrong to suppose, as is often done, that the 
 opportunities for doing good in medicine are limited 
 to the effect of specific remedies, or to the applica- 
 tion of drugs and instruments. The enlightened 
 physician surveys the whole ground of his patient's 
 case, and looks for the presence of any deleterious 
 agencies or unremoved causes of disease. Many 
 morbid affections, which have resisted powerful rem- 
 edies, cease speedily on the discovery and removal 
 of their sustaining cause. Tliis is the case with 
 various specific complaints produced by particular 
 drugs and stimulants, when habitually used. A 
 child is often sick from an error in the diet, health, 
 or habits of the nurse or mother. An individual 
 frequently suffers from the quality and quantity of 
 his habitual food or drink, or of his exercise, air, 
 occupation, or clothing. The starved infant and the 
 overfed gourmand, the drunkard and the ascetic, 
 the pale student and the emaciated seamstress, re- 
 
 13 
 
194 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 quire removal and reform, not drugs and medicines. 
 A patient dies of phthisis in a confined office or a 
 damp northern climate, who might have enjoyed 
 long life in an active occupation or a more pure and 
 temperate atmosphere. On the other hand, men 
 fall victims to the fevers and abdominal diseases of 
 the South and West, who might have escaped disease 
 by a timely removal to the North. It is as necessary 
 in many cases that the physician should inquire 
 into the situation, diet, habits, and occupation of the 
 patient, as that he should feel his pulse or explore 
 his chest. It often happens that the disordered 
 state of the one cannot be corrected until the other 
 has been previously set right ; and a little dietetic 
 instruction, or even moral advice, is more service- 
 able than a technical prescription. 
 
 In regard to their duration, their probable issue, 
 and their susceptibility of relief, the physician may 
 profitably divide his cases into three classes ; those 
 which are curable, those which are temporarily self- 
 limited, and those which are incurable.* In the 
 first class, or that of curable diseases, are to be in- 
 cluded those morbid affections which we know, or 
 have reason to believe, are under the control of 
 remedies, so that they can be arrested, or abridged 
 in duration. For the most, part, acute inflammatory 
 diseases, when not of fatal intensity, are mitigated 
 by depletion and the antiphologistic regimen, more 
 
 * See note, page 149, 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OF DISEASE. 195 
 
 or less actively enforced, according to the degree of 
 violence. Spasmodic diseases, on the contrary, are 
 influenced hy opiates, antispasmodics, and tonics, 
 and by the removal of their cause, when it can be 
 discovered and remedied, as in the case of dentition, 
 indigestible food, &c. Sympathetic diseases are to 
 be addressed through the medium, organ, or text- 
 ure, which is primarily affected. Thus, a headache 
 depending upon a disordered stomach, or an hysteric 
 affection upon irregularity of the uterine function, 
 are to be treated under this view of the subject. 
 Hemorrhages and other morbid discharges are to be 
 dealt with by removing the cause when practicable, 
 by diminishing vascular activity, or by quieting the 
 discharging surfaces with opiates, or contracting 
 them with astringents. There is one class of cura- 
 ble diseases which are controlled chiefly by specific 
 remedies, — being in some instances suspended, in 
 others radically removed. Thus, gout is relieved 
 by colchicum ; and intermittents, it is believed, by 
 quinine. Scabies is cured by sulphur; syphilis 
 by mercury ; goitre, as we are informed, by iodine ; 
 ,and various chronic eruptions by arsenic and cor- 
 rosive sublimate. The foregoing examples wiU 
 serve to illustrate, not only the power of medicine, 
 but also the great variety of grounds which should 
 govern medical practice, and the importance of an 
 intelligent diagnosis, as well as a knowledge of 
 therapeutic means. 
 
196 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 In the next subdivision, or that of self-limited 
 diseases, we include those "which receive limits 
 from their own nature, and not from foreign influ- 
 ences ; and which, after they have obtained foothold 
 in the system, cannot, in the present state of our 
 knowledge, be eradicated or abridged by art, but to 
 which there is due a certain succession of processes, 
 to be completed in a certain time ; which time and 
 processes may vary with the constitution and con- 
 dition of the patient, but are not known to be 
 shortened by medical treatment." Examples are 
 abundant, and are found in typhus and typhoid 
 fever, measles, small-pox, hooping-cough, dysentery, 
 and many other diseases of lighter or graver char- 
 acter.* 
 
 It is with regret that we are obliged to acknowl- 
 edge the existence of a third class, that of incurable 
 diseases, which has been recognized in all ages as 
 the opprobrium medicorum. It includes the long 
 train of internal morbid degenerations, malignant 
 and chronic, by tubercle and granulation, by atro- 
 phy and hypertrophy, softening and hardening, 
 Bcirrhus, encephalosis, ossification, concretion, con- 
 traction, and dilatation, with their various conse- 
 quences of phthisis, emphysema, dropsy, epilepsy, 
 paralysis, and a multitude of intractable disorders, 
 in which organs are disabled, functions destroyed, 
 and life itself rendered incapable of continuance. 
 
 * See marginal note, page 167. 
 
ON THE THEATMENT OP DISEASE. 197 
 
 It is obvious that in the three foregoing classes 
 of disease very diffei-ent modifications of treatment 
 are required. In curable diseases, our remedial 
 measures should be prompt and energetic in pro- 
 portion to the emergency of the case, and the cer- 
 tainty of benefit which is to follow their employ- 
 ment. In self-limited diseases, our treatment must 
 be of the expectant character. It consists in doing 
 what we can for the comfort and safety of the pa- 
 tient, avoiding useless and troublesome applications, 
 watching against accidents and complications, and 
 waiting for the salutary operations of nature. In 
 those maladies which are in their nature incurable, 
 we are obliged to confine ourselves to the palliation 
 of suffering, and the removal of causes which may 
 aggravate the disease. 
 
 Such, I believe, is the true exposition of the 
 powers and duties of every medical man. The dig- 
 nity of our science, and the responsibility of our 
 profession, require that we should form just views 
 of the extent bf our capacity and duty, and that we 
 should not shrink from avowiag them to the world. 
 Our science, imperfect as it is, has achieved as much 
 as any similar science for the prevention, allevia- 
 tion, and removal of the evils which it combats. 
 Let us not bring it into disrepute, by pretendiag to 
 impossibilities, by asserting what cannot be proved, 
 and by professing what human art is unable to 
 accomplish. A new era will dawn upon medicine, 
 
198 ON THE TREATMENT OP DISEASE. 
 
 ■when its faithful and enlightened cultivators shall 
 more constantly devote their time and their efforts 
 to enlighten the public mind in regard to the true 
 mission and powers of their science, and when they 
 shall leave to charlatans and fanatics the doubtful 
 and dishonest game of unfounded professional pre- 
 tension. 
 
ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION AND 
 QUACKERY. 
 
 AN INTKODUCIOBY LBCTDEB, DELIVERED AT THE MEDICAL COL- 
 LEGE, BOSTON, NOV. 6, 1844. 
 
 I AM about to address myself to an audience of 
 young men, — a class of persons who, in our new 
 and active coiintry, assume an influence and wear a 
 responsibility unknown in the older communities of 
 Europe. The sparse character of our population, the 
 call for active and efficient men, the sure market 
 which exists for talents, and even for common ability 
 and prudence, have given a national precocity to 
 our youth, and a readiness in adapting themselves 
 to new and difficult spheres of action. I have heard 
 foreigners speak with surprise of the arrival, in 
 distant ports of Europe or India, of American ships 
 commanded, not as is usual by weather-beaten vet- 
 erans, but by beardless striplings. The signs of 
 our mercantile houses bear often the names of very 
 young men ; and the avenues of our professions are 
 
 so crowded with them, that perhaps no regulation is 
 
 [199] 
 
200 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 more liable to be infringed than that which requires 
 that professional candidates shall be twenty-one 
 years of age. Young men command the ranks of 
 our military corps and swell our political meetings. 
 Their voice is heard among us in the periodical press 
 and in the halls of legislation. 
 
 These precocious habits of our country have of 
 course been felt in the medical profession. In most 
 of the schools of Europe, medical honors are riot 
 conferred until after a novitiate of four, and more 
 frequently five, years ; during which an extensive 
 circle of sciences is obliged to be mastered, and to 
 be approved by a series of strict examinations. -Not 
 only are the essential branches of medicine required 
 to be fully understood, but they must be preceded 
 by a knowledge of the subsidiary sciences, and must 
 also be confirmed by practical and clinical experi- 
 ence. 
 
 With us, on the other hand, the short period of 
 three preparatory years devoted to regular study 
 and lectures may be said to constitute nearly the 
 sum total of a inedical education ; for the collateral 
 requirements are so small, that their acquisition is 
 often effected during the same three years which 
 are applied to the other branches. And a young 
 man, who has learned to read and write, issues 
 from the village school, or perhaps from the counter 
 or the plough, and in three years is licensed, and 
 declared competent to exercise the multifarious pro- 
 
AND QUACKEET, 201 
 
 fession of medicine and surgery in all its depart- 
 ments. As it often happens in this and similar 
 cases, the newly approved candidate sends forth his 
 anxious glance, directed not always to his own de- 
 ficiencies or the means of supplying them, but to 
 that common goal and object of a young man's 
 inquiry, which is to fill up the measure of his 
 practical aspirations, — an opening. By the timely 
 decease of some elderly practitioner, or by the for- 
 tunate discovery of a rising settlement, in some 
 distant State or on some promising water-power, he 
 finds himself, perhaps at short notice, installed, 
 under virtue of the acquiescent silence of the small 
 community in which he lives, the constituted physi- 
 cian of the place. In one month, perhaps in one 
 week, he may be called upon to diagnosticate organic 
 lesion in a case of life and death, or to treat the 
 most formidable convulsive disease. He may be 
 summoned to tie the femoral artery, or to decide and 
 act in a case of placental presentation. There may 
 be no consulting physician within many miles, — at 
 least none who can arrive in season for the emer- 
 gency. 
 
 The safety, then, and probably the lives, of the 
 unfortunate constituents of this young man will de- 
 pend upon the question whether he has or has not 
 been truly educated, — whether his mind and hand 
 have been adequately trained for the great occasions 
 that await him. It is not enough that he has suf- 
 
202 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 fered three years to expire while taking his ease in 
 the office of a city physician, nor that he has passed 
 a corresponding time in following the rounds of a 
 country practitioner. It is not enough that he has 
 carelessly read the works of approved authors, and 
 has squeezed through the customary academic ex- 
 amination. If he has done only this, it is more 
 than provable that failure awaits on himself and 
 disaster upon his patient. But if his studies have 
 been methodical, and conducted with an eye to 
 practical application; if he has concentra!ted his 
 attention upon necessary points ; if he has felt the 
 earnest interest which, more than any thing else, 
 imprints truth on the remembrance ; if he has gath- 
 ered up and arranged his resources in reference to 
 coming emergencies ; if he has gone over in antici- 
 pation the difficulties of his profession, and planned 
 his own mode of extrication, — then he will find that 
 inexperience does not involve failure, and that youth 
 is not an insurmountable barrier to success. He 
 will recollect that the most eminent physicians and 
 the most successful operators have had their first 
 cases. He will perhaps also remember that some of 
 the most distinguished men in history have emerged 
 from obscurity while yet in youth; that not only 
 warriors like Alexander and Napoleon, but statesmen 
 like Pitt and Fox, and philosophers like Davy and 
 Bichat, had achieved some of their proudest laurels 
 at the very entrance of manhood. 
 
AND QTJACKEBT. 203 
 
 Let it not be supposed, however, that I am an 
 advocate for the premature assumption, by young 
 men, of the responsibilities of our profession. Every 
 medical student is to be considered unfortunate, 
 •who, by reason of poverty or the stress of other 
 circumstances, is obliged to hurry his probationary 
 period to an early termination. Too much time 
 and attention are not often bestowed on the busi- 
 ness of preparation for practice. The oldest and 
 the best physicians have had frequent cause to re- 
 gret that they were not better educated. But the 
 superficial student, who rarely has the time and 
 the will to repair his early deficiencies, is haunted 
 through life by a round of perplexity and embar- 
 rassment, and degraded by a sense of his own in- 
 competency. 
 
 It should be borne in mind, that there is no period 
 of life in which time can be so conveniently spared 
 from lucrative pursuits as ia youth. After a man 
 has attained to the age of thirty, it is commonly of 
 very little consequence to him, as far as his fame 
 and yearly receipts are concerned, whether he had 
 commenced practice at the age of twenty-one or of 
 twenty-four. But as far as he may prize a quiet 
 conscience and freedom from anxiety, the later age 
 is incomparably the most secure. I would advise 
 any young man who has completed his education at 
 the end of his minority, that he should devote two 
 additional years, and, if practicable, a still longer 
 
204 ON THE MEDICAL PBOFESSION 
 
 period, to availing himself of such advantages, both 
 in study and practice, as may prepare him for hia 
 future duties. And when, as it often happens in 
 our community, narrow circumstances require that 
 a young man should live by his own exertions, this 
 state of things, instead of being a motive that he 
 should crowd himself prematurely into the ranks 
 of the profession, encumbered with debt and bare of 
 acquirements and of means, is rather an imperative • 
 reason that he should at once begin by resolving to 
 devote twice the customary number of years, if ne- 
 cessary, to the double purpose of keeping himself in 
 an independent position, and of placiiig himself at 
 length, in point of maturity of knowledge, on a par 
 with his more favored competitors. 
 
 It may not be improper, in this place, to offer you 
 some suggestions as to the mode in which students 
 may advantageously appropriate the time of their 
 pupilage in reference to the science which they ex- 
 pect to acquire. Medical literature has become so 
 vast a subject, that the undirected student is apt to 
 be lost in the maze of books and sciences which 
 seem equally to press upon his attention ; and he is 
 likely to fall into the pernicious error of thinking 
 that he must read a great deal, even though he re- 
 members little. The true object of a medical pupil- 
 age should be, not to read, but to study, to observe, 
 and to remember ; not to pass superficially over the 
 writings of celebrated men, but to select those com- 
 
AND QUACKEET. 205 
 
 pendiums of the several sciences which contain a 
 condensed view of their essential and elementary 
 facts, which separate the wheat from the chaff, and 
 offer what is fundamental and useful, within a com- 
 pass which is capable of being impressed on the 
 memory. Most of the constituent sciences which 
 are nominally included in a modern medical educa- 
 tion are now so extensive, that the cultivation of 
 any one of them may afford abundant occupation 
 for a common lifetime. Passing over the more ele- 
 mentary branches, I may instance the theory and 
 practice of medicine, the literature of which is a 
 vast magazine of rubbish, with a few gems imbedded 
 in it, accumulated in all time since the origin of 
 writing; and in such excess, that no country in 
 Europe could probably furnish even a catalogue of 
 its own modern books. The history of this exten- 
 sive science contains a mixture of much that is bad 
 with much less that is good. And although in medi- 
 cal research the still small voice of truth has from 
 time to time made itself heard for a season, yet it 
 has as often been drowned by the dogmas of the 
 visionary and the clamors of the interested. Dur- 
 ing the present century, a host of theorists and 
 gratuitous reformers have replaced each other on 
 the arena of medical controversy. But we have 
 seen that while a truth in medical science, like the 
 import of the physical signs for example, struggles 
 its way through opposition and distrust into general 
 
206 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 adoption, an imfair and unfounded assumption rarely 
 survives long the life of the individual whose own 
 eloquence and obstinacy were necessary to force it 
 for a time upon the public attention. 
 
 If we could purge the sciences of pathology and 
 therapeutics from the writings of men who wrote 
 merely because they had a reputation to acquire or 
 a doctrine to establish ; and could confine these sci- 
 ences to the results attained by those who sought di- 
 rectly and impartially for the true and the useful, — 
 it is probable that the whole subject would be brought 
 within the comprehension, not only of every physi- 
 cian, but of every medical student. And from the 
 recent mode of conducting medical investigations, 
 which has commenced and is gradually gaining foot- 
 hold in all civilized countries, we may hope, in our 
 own day, to see near approaches to this desirable 
 result. 
 
 Every medical man, whether student or physician, 
 owes a threefold duty, — to himself, to his competi- 
 tors, and to his patients. To himself he owes the cul- 
 tivation of habits of order and perseverance, a love 
 of honesty, and a desire of knbwledge. No man is 
 successful in a learned profession who does not cul- 
 tivate a methodical disposition of his time. The 
 neglect of an hour, the omission of an engagement, 
 and the postponement of what is necessary for what 
 is unimportant, have ruined many a good intention 
 and many a promising prospect. Lord Chesterfield 
 
AND QUACKERY. 207 
 
 Bays that the Duke of Newcastle lost half an hour 
 in the morning, and spent the whole day in running 
 after it. This is a true expression of the career 
 of a busy but inefficient man. He who is al- 
 ways driven, always in a hurry, always late, and 
 always with deficiencies to be made up, is very 
 likely to be always a failure. It is well known that 
 the responsibilities of society are best and most 
 easily discharged by those who estimate the value 
 of small portions of time, who do things strictly in 
 their proper season and place, who provide against 
 contingencies, and distribute their day in reference 
 to what is, as well as to what may be, required' of 
 them. 
 
 But the best-ordered arrangement of time, and 
 the most punctual habits of attention, do not al- 
 ways succeed in our profession, except through per- 
 severance, and often through long sufiering. The 
 public, especially in cities, are slow in giving their 
 confidence to strangers and to young men. The 
 late Dr. Physick, of Philadelphia, asserted that, dur- 
 ing the first three years of his practice, he did not 
 pay for his shoe-leather; and a late very eminent 
 physician of this city once informed me, that he did 
 not earn his own board during three times that 
 period. The conservative principle which retards 
 the reception of yoimg men into lucrative business,- 
 is the foundation of their security in after life ; for 
 medical practice would not be worth having in a 
 
208 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 community whose love of change should lead them 
 to desert their former friends and counsellors, to 
 run after every newcomer. Physicians usually come 
 on to the stage and move off of it in company 
 with the generation to which they belong. In a 
 large city, a young physician, except under circum- 
 stances of peciiliar patronage or necessity, does not 
 usually obtain employment from families who are 
 much in advance of himself. But these families 
 and their medical attendants pass away, and he and 
 his cotemporaries become the standing practitioners 
 of their time. A- preparatory period in the mean- 
 time elapses, during which the candidate for future 
 honors has usually enough to do to perfect his 
 knowledge, to fill the gaps in his experience, and to 
 give proofs to the community around him that he 
 possesses aptitude for the common affairs of life. 
 
 Every physician is an inquirer during life, and 
 continues to learn something up to the last year in 
 which he may happen to study or practise. As the 
 science advances, moreover, every intelligent prac- 
 titioner is obliged to replace some of his former 
 opinions with others which he finds to be better 
 substantiated. We should be careful, therefore, 
 not to pledge ourselves unnecessarily to medical 
 opinions which are founded on equivocal or imper- 
 fect testimony. The public sentiment attaches a 
 kind of disgrace to frequent changes and recantar 
 tions ; and it ought also to do the same to the course 
 
AND QTTACKERT. 209 
 
 of any man who, for the sake of consistency with 
 himself, continues to maintain an erroneous and ex- 
 ploded opinion. Both these extremes are avoided 
 by the physician who reserves his assent to any 
 new opinion until the evidence of the case is satis- 
 factorily made out. 
 
 One of the most difficult virtues for a physician 
 to cultivate is a just and proper deportment towards 
 his professional brethren. As in all professions in 
 which men live by their heads rather than their 
 hands, business is liable to be overdone ; and a can- 
 didate who has not acquired all the occupation that 
 he -wishes is apt to regard his competitors as stum- 
 bling-blocks, to be gotten rid of by fair means or 
 foul. Hence arise the jealousies, calumnies, and* 
 open hostilities so often entertained, which injure 
 all the parties concerned, and lower the estimation 
 of the profession with the public. Harmony and a 
 proper esprit du corps may uphold the dignity of 
 even an inferior profession ; but the public rarely 
 respect any class of men, the members of which 
 have no respect for each other. A friendly inter- 
 course with those whom we approve is productive 
 of pleasure and advantage ; and a gentlemanly for- 
 bearance towards those with whom we do not agree 
 will show that we are above jealousy. A man is 
 always to be suspected who tells you that he is sur- 
 rounded with enemies ; and one who is an habitual 
 calumniator of others forces upon his hearers the 
 
 14 
 
210 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 conviction, that they in their proper turn are to 
 come in for their share of his animadversions. 
 
 I doubt if physicians do not , sometimes injure 
 themselves and their cause by showing too great a 
 sensitiveness in rpgard to the temporary inroads of 
 irregular practitioners. Quackery, whether carried . 
 on by the audacious enterprise of an individual im- 
 postor or upheld by the trumpeting of a fanatical 
 sect, is to be considered a necessary evil, inherent in 
 the constitution of society. It exists in every walk 
 and occupation of life by the exercise of which men 
 procure bread. The pettifogger in law, the Millerite 
 lecturer in theology, the demagogue in politics, the 
 system-monger in education, and the wonder-worker 
 •upon the brains and bowels of infatuated audiences, 
 ■ — what are all these but quacks moving in their 
 respective spheres, and fattening upon the credulity 
 of dupes? A certain portion of mankind are so 
 constituted, that they require to be ridden by others ; 
 and if you should succeed in unhorsing a particular 
 impostor, it is only to prepare the saddle for a fresh 
 and more unflinching equestrian. It is not good 
 policy to say or to write too much in regard to the 
 pretensions of impostors. A celebrated author ob- 
 serves, that " many a popular error has flourished 
 through the opposition of the learned." * By throw- 
 ing the gauntlet at an insignificant man, you at once 
 raise him to the dignity of being your competitor,, 
 
 * Macintosh. 
 
AND QUACKEBT. 211 
 
 and acknowledge him as a " foeman worthy of your 
 steel." And if you discover uneasiness, resent- 
 ment, or ill-ttemper, the public conclude that you 
 are influenced by your private interests. Besides, 
 when you have entered the arena of controversy, 
 you will probably find that the quack, who has his 
 all at stake, can affoj-d more breath and time than 
 you can conveniently spare from your other occupa- 
 tions ; and, in an active warfare, he may acquire two 
 partisans to your one. It is not long since the ex- 
 hibitor of a stuffed mermaid succeeded in drawing 
 down the popular indignation on an unfortunate 
 naturalist, who had ventured to declare that it was 
 made of a fish and a monkey, The public gener- 
 ally require time to get disabused of a favorite 
 error ; and, if too abruptly assailed, they will some- 
 times hold on to it, as the traveller did to his cloak 
 when attacked by the north wind. 
 
 In your demeanor in regard to quacks, you should 
 keep aloof from them, and trouble yourselves little 
 about them. Admit the general fact, that the race 
 always do and must exist in society ; that they are 
 wanted by the credulity of a particular class of 
 minds ; that the fall of one dishonest pretender, or 
 one visionary sect, is sure to be replaced by the ele- 
 vation of another ; therefore it little concerns you 
 to know what particular imposition has the ascen- 
 dency at any given time. When you are interro- 
 gated in regard to a specific subject of this kind, 
 
212 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 you should make a reasonable, cogent, and dispas- 
 sionate answer, always avoiding the appearance of 
 warmth, and especially of self-interest ; and you 
 may be sure that a majority of the public will be on 
 the side of truth. As far as my observation ex- 
 tends, three quarters at least of the families in Bos- 
 ton and New England are in the hands of regular 
 practitioners. The remaining fraction, more or less, 
 consists partly of minds so constituted, that they 
 require the marvellous as a portion of their neces- 
 sary food, and partly of unfortunate beings, suffer- 
 ing the inevitable lot of humanity; who, having 
 failed to obtain relief from the ordinary resources 
 of medicine, seek for temporary encouragement in 
 the dishonest assurances of any who will promise 
 to cure them. The first class is the dog in the fable, 
 catching at shadows ; the last is the drowning man, 
 catching at straws. 
 
 Above all, if you would discountenance quackery, 
 take care that you become not quacks yourselves. 
 Charlatanism consists not so miich in ignorance, as 
 in dishonesty and deception. In your intercourse 
 with patients, cultivate a spirit of fidelity, candor, 
 and truth. Endeavor to understand yourselves and 
 your science, weigh justly your own powers, and 
 profess only what you can accomplish. If you an- 
 nounce to your patiehts that you will cure incurable 
 diseases, or cut short those which have a necessary 
 period of duration, you do not speak the truth ; you 
 
AND QUACKERY. 213 
 
 merely blind your patient, while you throw the die for 
 a fortuitous result, — a game at which the veriest 
 mountebank may at any time beat you. The pro- 
 fession as a body are often unpopular with a large 
 and sagacious part of the community, because they 
 so frequently disappoint the expectations they have 
 allowed themselves to raise. You may safely imder- 
 take and promise to cure diseases which you know 
 to be curable, to alleviate others which you know to 
 be not so, and to perform what art and science can 
 do towards conducting doubtful and dangerous cases 
 to a happy issue. But this is all you can accom- 
 plish or promise. The skilful mariner may steer 
 his ship through a dangerous navigation, but he 
 cannot control the wind nor arrest the storm. Nor 
 would he gain reputation by professing to do so. 
 
 It is hardly necessary that I should counsel you 
 not to neglect your patients, when you can do any 
 thing for their welfare and security. Neglect of 
 outward attentions is not, I think, a very frequent 
 sin of physicians, inasmuch as their interest very 
 obviously lies in a different course. But some 
 practitioners fall into the opposite error of over- 
 attention to their patients ; of making them long, 
 tedious, or superfluous visits ; of hampering them 
 with strict and complicated instructions ; and espe- 
 cially of over-drugging them with remedies. There 
 are some patients, it is true, who like to be bled, 
 blistered, and physicked ; but the number is small : 
 
214 ON THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 
 
 and, in most cases, t)o.th the instinct of the child 
 and the discretion of the grown man Cause them 
 to revolt against nauseous and painful inflictions. 
 When, therefore, you are called to take charge of pa- 
 tients, ask yourselves how great is the danger, and 
 what is the probable tendency of the disease, if left 
 to itself. If life is in question, and you have reason 
 to believe that the patient may be rescued by prompt 
 and energetic remedies, you should not hesitate to 
 employ them. But in common, trivial, and safe 
 cases, such as afford a large part of a physician's 
 occupation, you should not allow a habit or a 
 hobby to lead you into the blind routine of always 
 thinking that you must make your patients worse 
 before they can be better. I believe that inuch of 
 the medical imposition of the present day is sus- 
 tained in places where practice has previously been 
 over-heroic, and because mankind are gratified to 
 find that they and their families can get well with- 
 out the lancet, the vomit, and the blister, indiscrim- 
 inately applied ; and because the adroit charlatan 
 transfers the salutary influences of time and na- 
 ture to the credit of his own less disagreeable in- 
 flictions. 
 
 It is the duty of physicians to elevate their pro- 
 fession, by maintaining in their individual character 
 a high moral rectitude, a just and honorable con- 
 duct, a devotedness to the welfare of their patients, 
 and an unceasing efibrt to improve themselves and 
 
AND QUACKEET. 215 
 
 their science. If this course is pursued by medical 
 men, they can hardly fail of becoming useful and 
 respected members of society. There is no country 
 in the world in which the avenues to respectability 
 and distinction, to competency and even to wealth, 
 are more open to physicians than in the United 
 States. It has been observed, that in England no 
 medical man is ever permitted to attain the aristo- 
 cratic rank, which belongs to birth, and which is 
 occasionally accorded to eminence in the military, 
 political, legal, and financial professions. In this 
 country, however, there is no post of honor or emolu- 
 ment, and no situation of influence and distinction, 
 which our history does not show to be within the 
 reach of our profession. But it is not to political 
 or extra-professional preferment that the true physi- 
 cian should look. He should rather be contented 
 to build up his own character within his own sphere, 
 as a man of knowledge, fidelity, and honor. The 
 respect of the community, and the attachment of 
 friehds, will always attend on him who loves truth 
 for its own sake, pursues knowledge that he. may 
 be able to benefit others, and deals justly with his 
 fellow-men, consenting that they, in turn, should 
 deal justly with him. 
 
BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP RATIONAL 
 MEDICINE* 
 
 The tendency to ultraism, which influences public 
 opinion in great social questions, particularly of 
 politics and theology, has been also prevalent in the 
 afiairs of practical medicine. No age has been ex- 
 empt from diversity of opinion among physicians 
 on the speculative subjects of their art ; and the 
 
 » The following Dedication was prefixed to the first edition of this 
 article, published in 1858: — 
 
 TO SIR JOHN FORBES, M.D., F.R.S., 
 
 TELLOW 01' THU KOTAI. OOLLEOB OF PHTSIOIANB, LOHDON, PHTSIOIAH 
 OF THE QUEEN'S HOUSEHOLD, ETC., ETC. 
 
 Mt deab Sib, ^- The distinguished and influential position which 
 you hold in regard to principles, many of which are advocated in this 
 little publication, renders it proper that I should present it to your notice 
 as sia humble auxiliary in the promotion of a just, and I hopefully trust 
 a growing, conviction in the public mind, as to the true mission and 
 powers of the medical art. 
 
 It is known to you that it was my intention to have published in this 
 country an edition of your very able volume entitled " Nature and Art in 
 the Cure of Disease," in connection with some other publications of like 
 tendency which have appeared on this side of the Atlantic, and to have 
 embodied the whole under the title of " Rational Medicine." Of tliis 
 plan, as well as name, I had the pleasure to receive your approval and 
 your concurrence in its execution. But, after the whole was prepared 
 and placed in the publisher's hands here, the imforeseeu appearance of a 
 [216] 
 
EXPOSITIONS OF RATIONAL MEDICINE. 217 
 
 present period appears to be more marked than pre- 
 ceding ones, by the opposite methods, of treatment 
 pursued by medical men in the, management of dis- 
 ease. These methods consist, for the most part, in 
 a vehement, officious, and over-drugging system on 
 the one hand, and an inert, evasive, and nugatory 
 practice on the other. Between these extremes, the 
 intermediate truth meets with less consideration 
 than it ought to receive from unbiassed and enlight- 
 ened inquirers. 
 
 Extreme doctrines in practical subjects often arise 
 from the self-interest of those who originate and" 
 first promote them. But the vehemence and fanati- 
 cism with which they are afterwards pursued are as 
 
 often owing to the creation of false issues, which 
 
 • 
 
 New-York edition of your work rendered superfluous the proposed un- 
 dertaking. 
 
 The world will diily appreciate the labor and learning which, during 
 half a century, you have brought to the aid of true medical philosophy; 
 and, in a particxxlar manner, the impartial investigations which you have 
 lately made in regard to the part performed by nature in the cure of dis- 
 eases. Convictions in a measure similar to your own have, at the same 
 time, found their way into other minds, and generally in a near propor- 
 tion to the testimony afforded by prolonged experience. Twenty-three 
 years ago, I read, before the Medical Society of this State, a Discourse on 
 Self-limited Diseases, which, I have reason to believe, was not without 
 some influence at the time and since on the minds of the profession here. 
 This discourse was afterwards incorporated, with other essays, in a vol- 
 ume entitled " Nature in Disease." I now hope that the crowning and 
 convincing testimonies afforded by your noble work, on the comparison 
 of nature and art in the cure of disease, will be instrumental in causing 
 the extravagances of a so-called heroic and over-active practice on the 
 one hand, and of a nugatory and ignorant practice on the other, to be 
 replaced by something which may deserve the name of Rational Med- 
 icine. 
 
218 BBIEP EXPOSITIONS OF 
 
 divert public attention from the substance to the 
 shadow, and mystify the general question with 
 minor, partial, and frequently irrelevant- considera- 
 tions. 
 
 The introduction into the English language, for 
 example, of the term " allopathy," and its adoption 
 by some medical writers, has had the effect to mis- 
 lead superficial readers in regard to the true issue 
 of questions connected with . the treatment of dis- 
 ease. This word was designed by its zealoiis, but 
 weak and incompetent, inventor to express the em- 
 ployment of remedies which produce phenomena 
 different from those produced by the disease treated ; 
 whereas the teriji homoeopathy indicated a mode of 
 treating diseases by employing medicines which are 
 supposed to produce effects similar to those which it 
 is desired to remove. This theoretical and absurd 
 generalization, wholly unsupported by general facta 
 on either side, so far as the cure of diseases is con- 
 cerned, has acquired currency among the less en- 
 lightened part of the public ; so that, at the present 
 day, many persons consider homoeopathy a sort of 
 general law, to which allopathy is an exception. 
 And, strange to tell, maiiy otherwise sensible phy- 
 sicians have assumed the cloak thus offered to them ; 
 without perceiving that the propriety of so doing is 
 the same as if the whole Protestant world were to 
 style themselves heretics, because the church of 
 Eome, in former ages, saw fit to apply to them that 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 219 
 
 appellation. Allopathy is, in fact, a worthless term, 
 •which either means nothing real, or else embodies 
 so many dissimilar and discordant elements, that it 
 serves no purpose as a descriptive or distinctive 
 namef The occasion still exists for terms which 
 may definitively express the dogmas of modern prac- 
 tice. 
 
 Anatomy, physiology, and to a certain extent pa- 
 thology, may be considered. So far as our discoveries 
 have advanced, to be entitled to rank with the exact 
 sciences. But therapeutics, or the art of treating 
 diseases, like ethics and political economy, is stiU 
 a conjectural study, incapable of demonstration in 
 many of its great processes, and subject to various 
 and even opposite opinions in regard to the laws and 
 means which govern its results. 
 
 The methods which, at the present day, are most 
 prevalent in civilized coimtries, in the treatment of 
 disease, may be denominated the following : — 
 
 1. The Artificial method ; which, when carried to 
 excess, is commonly termed heroic, and which con- 
 sists in reliance on artificial remedies, usually of an 
 active character, in the expectation that they wiU of 
 themselves remove diseases. 
 
 2. The Expectant method. This consists simply 
 in non-interference ; leaving the chance of recovery 
 to the powers of nature, miinfluenoed by interposi- 
 tions of art. 
 
 3. The Eomeeopathio method. This is a counter- 
 
220 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OF 
 
 feit of the last, and consists in leaving the case to 
 nature, while the patient is amused with nominal 
 and nugatory remedies. 
 
 4. The Exclusive method ; which applies one rem- 
 edy to all diseases, or to a majority of diseases.. This 
 head includes hydropathy, also the use of various 
 mineral waters, electrical establishments, &c. Drugs 
 newly introduced, and especially secret medicines, 
 frequently boast tlus universality of application. 
 
 6. The Rational method. This recognizes nature 
 as the great agent in the cure of diseases, and em- 
 ploys art as an auxiliary, to be resorted to when 
 useful or necessary, and avoided when prejudicial. 
 
 The foregoing methods, with the exception per- 
 haps of the last, have had their trial in various 
 periods and countries, and have given rise to discus- 
 sions and controversies which are not terminated at 
 the present day. The subject is too complicated to 
 obtain from inquirers, out of the profession, the 
 amount of attention requisite for understanding its 
 merits ; while, among medical men, consistency to 
 pledged opinions, defects of knowledge, and consid- 
 erations of interest, not unfrequently warp the judg- 
 ment of otherwise honest and discerning persons. 
 It is" certain, moreover, that medical opinion on the 
 treatment of disease changes much between the time 
 of one generation and another. Any person who 
 will take the trouble to inspect the medical journals, 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 221 
 
 published thirty or forty years ago, will find many 
 things, then laid down as medical truths, which are 
 now generally admitted to he medical errors. The 
 length of a common professional life is sufiBcient to 
 disabuse most physicians of many convictions which 
 they had received on trust, and once considered un- 
 changeable. Yet it does not always happen that 
 error is replaced by truth, and it is fortunate if the 
 delusions of ill-balanced minds are not succeeded by 
 newer and greater delusions. 
 
 It is, nevertheless, right that intelligent and rear 
 Bonable physicians should receive the confidence of 
 the community, since they are, or should be, more 
 qualified than other persons to undertake the care 
 and conduct of the sick. And even if it had hap- 
 pened that their power was limited to merely under 
 standing the nature of the existing disease, and the 
 import and probable tendency of symptoms which 
 occur from day to day without any attempt at cura- 
 tive interference, still their attendance would be 
 solicited to throw light on the grave questions of 
 pain, sickness, and recovery, and still more of life 
 and death. The public, however, expect something 
 more of physicians than the power of distinguishing 
 diseases, and of predicting their issue. They look 
 to them for the relief of their sufferings, and the 
 cure or removal of their complaints. And the vul- 
 gar estimate of the powers of medicine is founded 
 on the common acceptation of the name, that medi- 
 
222 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OF 
 
 cine is the art of curing diseases. That this is a 
 false definition, is evident from the fact that many 
 diseases are incurable, and that one such disease 
 must at last happen to every living man.* A far 
 mpre just definition would be, that medicine is the 
 art of understanding diseases, and of curing or re- 
 lieving them when possible. If this definition were 
 accepted, and its truth generally understood by the 
 profession and the public, a weight of superfluous 
 responsibility on one side, and of dissatisfaction on 
 the other, would be lifted from the shoulders of 
 both. It is because physicians allow themselves to 
 profess and vaunt more power over disease than 
 belongs to them, that their occasional shortcomings 
 are made a ground of reproach with the community, 
 and of contention among themselves. 
 
 It is now generally admitted by intelligent physic, 
 cians, that certain diseases, the number of which is. 
 not very great, are at once curable by medical 
 means. Yet there is probably no curative agent,, 
 applied to such diseases, the efficacy and even safety- 
 of which has not been warmly contested by sectarian 
 practitioners. It is also beginning to, be, admitted 
 in this country, that certain diseases are self-limited,^ 
 
 * See the author's " Nature in Disease,," page 64. 
 
 t This term was first introduced by the writer in a discourse In 1835, 
 already alluded to, with the following definition: " A self-Umited disease 
 is one which receives limits from its own nature, and not from foreign in- 
 fluences ; one which, after it has obtained foothold in the system, cannot, 
 in the present state of our knowledge, be eradicated or abridged by art; 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 223 
 
 incurable now by art, yet susceptible of recovery 
 under natural processes, both with and without the 
 interference of art.' To this class belong a great 
 portion of the diseases usually called acute, and 
 likewise some, the character of which is decidedly 
 chronic. Lastly, a vast tribe of incurable diseases 
 takes precedence in the lists of mortality, and holds, 
 in some form, its final sentence over .the heads of 
 all mankind. Yet so reluctant are physicians to 
 acknowledge these universal truths, or to admit 
 their own incompetency, that incurable and unman- 
 ageable diseases have been complacently called op-, 
 prohria medidnce, as if they were exceptions to a 
 general rule. 
 
 The great objects which medical practice professes 
 to effect, and which there can be no doubt that it 
 frequently does effect, are the following: 1. The 
 cure of certain diseases ; 2. The relief or palliation 
 of all diseases; 3. The safe conduct of the sick. 
 In all these objects it sometimes fails ; yet instances 
 of its success are sufficiently numerous to establish 
 the necessity of the existence of medicine as a pro- 
 fession. 
 
 No one doubts that morbid affections, occasioned 
 by the presence of an offending or irritating cause, 
 
 bnt to which there is due a certain succession of processes, to be com- 
 pleted in a certain time, which time and processes may vaiy with the 
 constitution and condition of the patient, and may tend to death or to 
 recovery, but are not known to be shortened, or greatly changed, by med- 
 ical treatment." 
 
224 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 are often speedily cured by the discharge or re- 
 moval of that cause. And here drugs are among 
 the principal agents -which we employ. Again, no 
 one doubts that many of the diseases of civilized 
 life, brought on by luxury, intemperance, sedentary 
 and intellectual labor, unhealthy residence, occupa- 
 tion, &c., are often wholly or partially cured by 
 change of life, including habits, and perhaps resi- 
 dence. And here drugs are, for the most part, of 
 little avail. So that it may happen that the chance 
 of cure shall depend upon the judgment with which 
 , active drugs are administered, on the one hand, and 
 avoided or superseded, on the other. 
 
 The palliation of diseases is another great prac- 
 tical end of medical science,' and really occupies a 
 large portion of the time and efforts of every medi- 
 cal man. When it is considered that most diseases 
 last for days, and some of them for years, and that 
 a large portion of mankind eventually die of some 
 chronic or lingering disease, it will readily be seen 
 that the palliation of suffering is not only called for, 
 but really constitutes one of the most important, as 
 well as beneficent, objects of medical practice. The 
 use of anodynes and anaesthetics, the obviation of 
 various painful and distressing symptoms, the re- 
 moval of annoyances, the just regulation of diet, 
 of exertion and repose, of indulgence and restric- 
 tion, the direction of moral agencies, which make 
 up so large a part both of suffering and relief, may 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 225 
 
 well afford employment to the most earnest and 
 philanthropic physician, and obtain from the public 
 a just appreciation of the value of his services. 
 
 The safe conduct of the sick, as will be seen from 
 the last head, consists much more in cautionary guid- 
 ance than in active interference. In the manage- 
 ment of sickness, the rein is needed to direct, quite 
 as much as the spur to excite. People sometimes 
 suffer from neglect, but more frequently from ill- 
 judged and meddlesome attention. One of the' 
 most cogent necessities of a sick man is to be saved 
 from the excessive and officious good-will of his 
 friends. The kindest impulses and the most benev- 
 olent intentions are liable to show themselves in 
 ill-timed visits, fatiguing conversations, and injudi- 
 cious advice or action. Intelligent and discreet 
 physicians are sometimes driven, by the importunity 
 of friends, to the adoption of active measures, or at 
 least the semblance of them, which their own judg- 
 ment informs them would be better omitted. And 
 the case is still worse when the impulsive tempera- 
 ment of the physician himself, or the influence of 
 his early education, or the dominant fashion of the 
 place in which he resides, is so exacting in regard 
 to activity of treatment, as to make him believe that 
 he cannot commit too many inflictions upon the sick, 
 provided that, in the end, he shall be satisfied that 
 he has omitted nothing. 
 
 The foregoing desiderata, the cure, the relief, and 
 15 
 
226 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 the safe conduct of patients, involve the great objects 
 for which medicine has been striving for thousands 
 of years. Yet, even in the present advanced state 
 of science, pliysicians are not agreed as to the means 
 by which any one of them is to be accomplished or 
 attempted; and a man 'who falls sick at home or 
 abroad is liable to get heroic treatment or nominal 
 treatment, random treatment or no treatment at all, 
 according to the hands into which he may happen 
 to fall. It is, therefore, desirable that physicians 
 themselves, and the public also, should obtain a 
 satisfactory understanding of the various diversities 
 of practice which have been already mentioned as 
 occupying the greatest share of attention at the 
 present day. 
 
 1. The Autipicial Method. — This mode of treat- 
 ment is founded on the assiiinption, that disease can 
 be removed by artificial means. Prom the earliest 
 ages, a belief has prevailed that all human maladies 
 are amenable to control from some form of purely 
 medical treatment ; and although the precise form 
 has not yet been found, so far^ as most diseases are 
 concerned, yet, at this day, it continues to be as 
 laboriously and hopefully pursued as was the elixir 
 vitae in the middle ages. Within the present cen- 
 tury, books of practice gravely laid down " the in- 
 dications of cure," as if they were things within 
 the grasp of every practitioner. It was only neces- 
 sary to subdue the inflammation, to expel the mor- 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 227 
 
 bific matter, to regulate the secretions, to improve 
 the nutrition, and to restore the strength, and the 
 business was at once accomplished. What nature 
 refused, or was inadequate to do, was expected to 
 be achieved by the more prompt and yigorous inter- 
 position of art. The destructive tendencies of dis- 
 ease, and the supposed proneness to deterioration 
 of nature herself, were opposed by copious and ex- 
 hausting depletion, followed by the shadowy array 
 of alteratives, deobstruents, and tonics. Confine- 
 ment by disease, which might have terminated in a 
 few days, was protracted to weeks and months ; 
 because the importance of the case, as it was thought, 
 required that the patient should be artificially " taken 
 down," and then artificially " built up." 
 
 When carried to its "heroic" extent, artificial 
 medicine undermined the strength, elicited new 
 morbid manifestations, and left more disease than 
 it took away. The question raised was not how 
 much the patient had profited under his active treat- 
 ment, but how much more of the same he could 
 bear. Large doses of violent and deleterious drugs 
 were given, as long as the patient evinced a " toler- 
 ance " of them, that is, did not sink under them. 
 The results of such cases, if favorable, like the es- 
 capes of desperate surgery, were chronicled as pro- 
 fessional triumphs ; while the press was silent on 
 the disastrous results subsequently incurred in like 
 cases by deluded imitators. If diseases proved fatal, 
 
228 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 or eTen if they were not jugulated or cut short at 
 the outset, the misfortune was attributed to the cir- 
 cumstance of the remedies not being sufficiently 
 active, or of the physician not being called in sea- 
 son. So great at one time, and that not long ago, 
 was the ascendency of heroic teachers and writei's, 
 that few medical men had the courage to incur the 
 responsibility of omitting the active modes of treat- 
 ment which were deemed indispensable to the safety 
 of the patient. This timidity on the score of omis- 
 sion has now, in a great measure, passed away, yet is 
 still promoted in most cities by some heroic doctors, 
 and still more by interested specialists, who inflict 
 severe discipline, and levy immense contributions, 
 on credulous persons, who are suitably alarmed at 
 demmciations which involve the loss of sight, of 
 hearing, or even of beauty. 
 
 A considerable amount of violent practice is still 
 maintained by routine physicians, who, without going 
 deeply into the! true nature or exigencies of the case 
 before them, assume the general ground, that noth- 
 ing is dangerous but neglect. Edge-tools are brought 
 into use as if they could never be any thing more 
 than harmless playthings. It is thought allowable 
 to harass the patient with daily and opposite pre- 
 scriptions;, to try, to abandon, to re-enforce, or to 
 reverse ; to blow hot and cold on successive days ; 
 but never to let the patient alone, nor to intrust his 
 case to the quiet guidance of nature. Consulting 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 229 
 
 physicians frequently and painfully witness the gra- 
 tuitous suffering, the continued nausea, the pros- 
 tration of strength, the prevention of appetite, the 
 stupefaction of the senses, and the wearisome days 
 and nights, which would never have occurred had 
 tliere been no such thing as officious medication. 
 What; practitioner has not seen infants screaming 
 under the pangs of hunger, or of stimulants re- 
 morselessly applied to their tender skins, and whose 
 only permitted chance of relief was in the continued 
 routine of unnecessary calomel and ipecacuanha ? 
 
 There is one great exception in favor of artificial 
 and even heroic practice, well known and fully de- 
 monstrable in the art of surgery. Many defects, 
 injuries, and diseases of the body, are, unquestiona- 
 bly, cured by surgical processes, which never could 
 have got well without them. And the skilful and 
 humane surgeon has more frequent opportunities to 
 reflect with satisfaction on the immediate and posi- 
 tive results of his art than the most able physician. 
 Yet even this satisfaction can only be measured by 
 the fidelity with which he has performed his duty, 
 and the conscientiousness with which he has avoided 
 useless and hopeless operations. Happily the expe- 
 rience and statistical results of the best modern sur- 
 geons have had the effect to diminish greatly the 
 amount of gratuitous suffering which was imposed by 
 their predecessors on the imhappy subjects of their 
 art. We see much less than was formerly seen of 
 
230 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 the cruel but unavailing operations of fanciful and 
 interested surgery ; the infliction of pain without 
 corresponding good, the useless extirpation of ma- 
 lignant growths, the mutilation of miserable bodies 
 already doorhed by tuberculous and other irrecovera- 
 ble conditions ; deeds which have converted hos- 
 pitals into inquisitions, and left the Bastile and the 
 Hotel Dieu to contend for the palm of supremacy in 
 the production of human suffering. 
 
 2. The Espectant Method. — This method, when 
 fully carried out, admits no medication or inter- 
 ference of art, but waits on time, and commits the 
 chance of recovery to the restorative power of na- 
 ture alone. The expectant practice has not been 
 without its advocates, and volumes have been pub- 
 lished in its favor, at different times, chiefly on the 
 continent of Europe. That there is some basis for 
 the doctrine of expectation, is made apparent by the 
 spontaneous recovery of animals and savages; of 
 careless, obstinate, and incredulous persons in civil- 
 ized life ; and of those who, in consequence of their 
 isolated or otherwise unfavorable position, are un- 
 able to procure " medical aid," or who, if they do 
 procure it, obtain only that which is inoperative cr 
 absolutely detrimental. I sincerely believe that the 
 unbiassed opinion of most medical men of sound 
 judgment and long experience is made up, that the 
 amount of death and disaster in the world would be 
 less, if all disease were left to itself, than it now 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 231 
 
 is under the multiform, reckless, and contradictory 
 modes of practice, good and bad, with which practi- 
 tioners of adverse denominations carry on their dif- 
 ferences at the expense of their patients. But there 
 is no probability that expectant medicine will ever 
 prevail in its character as such. The amount of 
 positive good which, in fifty centuries, art has 
 brought to the assistance of medicine, although far 
 more limited than we could desire, is nevertheless 
 both sufficient and worthy to employ the talents of 
 the best and most enlightened physicians. 
 
 3. The Homceopathic Method. — Homoeopathy 
 may be defined as a specious mode of doing nothing. 
 While it waits on the natural progress of disease 
 and the restorative tendency of nature on the one 
 hand, or the injurious advance of disease on the 
 other, it supplies the craving for activity, on the 
 part of the patient and his friends, by the formal 
 and regular administration of nominal medicine. 
 Although homoeopathy will, at some future time, 
 be classed with historical delusions, yet its ten- 
 dency has undoubtedly been to undermine the re- 
 liance on heroic practice which prevailed in former 
 times, both in this country and in Europe. There 
 was, perhaps, needed a popular delusion to insti- 
 tute the experiment on a sufficiently large scale, 
 to show that the sick may recover without the use 
 of troublesome and severe medication. There are 
 not wanting in history similar instances of good re- 
 
232 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 suits flowing from questionable sources. The French 
 Revolution has eventually bettered the social condi- 
 tion of the French people ; and the Mormons have 
 brought the ■wilderness of the Salt Lake to a state 
 of productive cultivation. Yet no judicious person 
 vindicates the doctrines of those who were prime 
 movers in these innovations, or holds them up as 
 worthy examples for imitation. Sir Kenelm Digby 
 produced a beneficial reform in English surgery, 
 and was able to banish the prevalent mode of dress- 
 ing incised wounds with painful applications, by 
 speciously going from the effect to the cause, and 
 applying the active medicament, not to the wound, 
 but to the weapon that did the mischief ; thus giv- 
 ing to the former a chance to heal by the first inten- 
 tion. 
 
 There is great reason to believe, that, at the pres- 
 ent day, homoeopathic faith is not always kept up 
 in its original purity by its professors. Traces of 
 the occasional use of very heroic remedies are often 
 detected among the most unsuspected of its practi- 
 tioners. And it must not be concealed, that there 
 are instances in which the temptation is very great, 
 even for the most resolute convert, to come to the 
 aid of the sick with reasonable and efficient doses 
 of real medicine. The man must be somewhat of 
 a stoic who can look upon a case of severe colic, or 
 of the multiform distresses which result from over- 
 tasked organs of digestion, and quiet his conscience 
 
EATIONAL MEDICINE. 233 
 
 with administering inappreciable globules, instead 
 of remedies. 
 
 4. The Exclusive Method. — Tliis, like the he- 
 roic system, is various in its means of treatment, 
 but differs from it in the professed universality of 
 its peculiar applications. Hydropathy applies one 
 remedy, cold water, to all cases. Yet, like homoe- 
 opathy, it combines with its special agent a strict 
 course of life, including exercise, temperance, regu- 
 lar hours, and a diet in the main simple and whole- 
 some, though somewhat fanciful in its exclusions. 
 The same was done, so far as was proper, in the pre- 
 vious practice of all judicious physicians. The use 
 of cold bathing is not new, having been employed 
 as a hygienic process from time immemorial by the 
 civilized world. As a therapeutic agent, cold affu- 
 sion was resorted to more than half a century ago, 
 and has been practised ever since in a greater or 
 less degree. But the peculiar mode of applying 
 water by packing appears to be original with Priess- 
 nitz, an ignorant German, to whom it owes its popu- 
 larity. Like the Russian bath, in which alternate 
 approaches to scalding and freezing are said to be 
 followed at last by very delightful sensations, the 
 hydropathic discipline, in those who have soundness 
 of constitution sufi&cient to insure a healthy re-ac- 
 tion, is followed by agreeable and often salubrious 
 results. Yet the ineffective character of hydropathy 
 is seen in the multitude of disappointed invalids 
 
234 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OF 
 
 who return unrelieved from its establishments. I 
 have been told, by persons who have resided at 
 Graefenberg, that funerals at that place were of 
 constant occurrence ; and it is well known, that 
 Priessnitz, himself a robust peasant, died in the 
 prime of life, in the midst of his own water-cure. 
 
 The greatest benefit at hydropathic establishments 
 is obtained by those who reform their mode of life 
 by submitting to the restraints of the place. The 
 luxurious, the indolent, the sedentary, and the 
 erratic, improve most under a return to regular, 
 natural, active, and temperate habits. Accordingly 
 it is found, that gout, dyspepsia, lost appetite, hy- 
 steria, and the various forms of nervous irritability, 
 furnish the most hopeful subjects for such institu- 
 tions. The same patients might, in many cases, 
 obtain the same relief in another place, by pursu- 
 ing the water-cure without the water. 
 
 The universality of hydropathic application has 
 been somewhat diminished by prolonged experience. 
 Priessnitz himself, although ignorant of science, 
 and incapable of distinguishing one disease from 
 another, at last became cautious in his selections, 
 and nominally excluded diseases of the lungs from 
 his institution. 
 
 It is not necessary to dwell upon the various ex- 
 clusive modes of practice, more or less universal in 
 their application, with which the columns of news- 
 
BATIONAL MEDICINE. 235 
 
 papers are daily filled. Mineral waters, taken at 
 th^ fountain, are often of great use to those who 
 require a journey or a change of scene. Particular 
 springs also appear to exert a beneficial effect on 
 particular maladies, though not panaceas for all ills. 
 Watering-places, which combine amusement with 
 exercise, are the temporary safety-valves of over- 
 taxed physicians, and happily afford arks of refuge 
 to multitudes of chronic valetudinarians. Elec- 
 tricity supports one or more establishments in all 
 large cities, both in its simple form, and combined 
 with all other imponderable agencies of mind and 
 matter. Pew persons go uncurod of chronic mala- 
 dies without having given it a sufBcient and satis- 
 factory trial. Finally, the host of empirical remedies, 
 which fill the attention of a very considerable por- 
 tion of this quack-ridden world, leave no human 
 maladies out of the catalogue of subjects to their 
 mysterious power. The drug aloes, in its hundred 
 pill combinations, levies incessant contributions on 
 those who purchase the privilege of being slaves to 
 its use. Opium, variously disguised with aromatics 
 to conceal its presence, gives temporary but falla- 
 cious respite to fatal diseases, under the deceptive 
 names of pectorals and pulmonics. 
 
 It is superfluous to prolong the consideration of 
 general and exclusive remedies. No person accus- 
 tomed to witness the various morbid conditions 
 which invade and occupy the human frame, active 
 
236 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 and passive, partial and general, trivial and danger- 
 ous, can ever consider them proper subjects for ilie 
 same kind of treatment ; unless, with Dr. Rush and 
 Dr. Brandreth, he happens to be a believer in the 
 imity of disease. 
 
 5. The Rational Method. — If no alternative 
 were left to the physician and patient but the ex- 
 treme and frequently irrational methods which have 
 now been briefly described, practical medicine might 
 well take its rank as a pseudo-science by the side of 
 astrology and spiritualism. But the labors of ear- 
 nest and philanthropic men, during many centuries, 
 though often speculative, misguided, and terminat- 
 ing in error, have nevertheless elicited enough of 
 general truth to serve as the foundation for a stable 
 superstructure. And, that such truth may hereafter 
 go on to accumulate, it must be simply and honestly 
 sought, even when its developments do not at once 
 promote the apparent interest of physicians, nor 
 flatter their professional pride of opinion. 
 
 It is to sincere and intelligent observers, and not 
 to audacious charlatans, that we are to look as the 
 ultimate lawgivers of medical science. Our present 
 defect is, not that we know too little, but that we 
 profess too much. We regard it as a sort of hu- 
 miliation to acknowledge that we cannot always 
 cure diseases ; forgetting that in many other sciences 
 mankind have made no greater advances than our- 
 selves, and are still upon the threshold of their 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 237 
 
 respective structures. Medical assumption may 
 well feel humbled by the most insignificant diseases 
 of the human body. Take, for example, a common 
 furunculus or boil. No physician can, by any in- 
 tei-nal treatment, produce it where it does not exist. 
 No physician can, by any science, explain it, and 
 say why it came on one limb, and not upon another. 
 No physician can, by any art, cure it after it has 
 arrived at a certain height. No physician can, by 
 any art, delay or retain it after it has passed the 
 climax assigned to it by nature. And what is true 
 in regard to a boil is equally true of common pneu- 
 monia, of typhoid fever, of acute rheumatism, of 
 cholera, and many other diseases. 
 
 In the present state of our knowledge, the truth 
 appears to be simply this : Certain diseases, of which 
 the number is not very great, are curable, or have 
 their cure promoted, by drugs, and by appliances 
 which are strictly medicinal. Certain other diseases, 
 perhaps more numerous, are ciirable in like manner 
 by means which are strictly regiminal, and consist 
 in changes of place, occupation, diet, and habits of 
 life. Another class of diseases are self-limited, and 
 can neither be expelled from the body by artificial 
 means, nor retained in the body after their natural 
 period of duration has expired. Finally, a large 
 class of diseases have proved incurable from the 
 beginning of history to the present time, and under 
 some one of these the most favored members of the 
 
238 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 human race must finally succumb ; for even curable 
 diseases become incurable when they have reached 
 a certain stage, extent, or complication. 
 
 It will be seen that the divisions last mentioned 
 cannot be strictly reduced under the nomenclature 
 of nosologies ; for cases, and groups of cases, may 
 begin in one category and end in another. 
 
 It is the part of rational medicine to study intel- 
 ligently the. nature, degree, and tendency of each 
 existing case, and afterwards to act, or to forbear 
 acting, as the exigencies of such case may require. 
 To do all this wisely and efi&ciently, the practitioner 
 must possess, first, suf&cient knowledge to diagnos- 
 ticate the disease ; and, secondly, sufficient sense, 
 as well as knowledge, to make up a correct judgment 
 on the course to be pursued. In the first of these, 
 if properly educated and experienced, he will be 
 able to make an approximation to the truth suffi- 
 cient for practical purposes. In the second he will 
 have to depend mainly on his well-ordered and logi- 
 cal powers of self-direction ; for he will find, in the 
 recorded evidence of his predecessors, quite as much 
 to mislead as to guide him rightly. He will find 
 many existing cases, in which for a time he will 
 know not what to do, and in which his safest course 
 will be not to do he knows not what. It is better 
 to resort to a little expectancy, than to rush into 
 blind and reckless action. Nature, when not en- 
 cumbered with overwhelming burdens, and when 
 
EATIONAL MEDICINE. 239 
 
 not abused by unnatural and pernicious excesses, 
 is, after all, " the kindest mother still." Art may 
 sometimes remove those burdens, and regulate those 
 excesses ; but it is not by imposing new burdens, 
 and instituting new excesses, that an end so desira- 
 ble is to be attained. Before commencing any con- 
 templated course of treatment in a given case, two 
 questions should always be asked : 1. Will it do 
 good? 2. Will it do harm? A right answer to 
 these questions will not fail to produce a right prac- 
 tice. 
 
 It is the part of rational medicine to alleviate the 
 sufferings of the sick. And for this end alone, 
 were there no other, physicians would be necessary 
 as a profession. For this end alone, any person 
 knowingly about to encounter the confinement of a 
 self-limited fever, or the lingering decay of a cancer 
 or consumption, would invoke the guidance of a 
 medical man whose judgment and skill were better 
 than his own. The power of the medical art to 
 palliate diseases is shown in a multitude of ways, 
 active, cautious, and expectant. The pain of acute 
 pleurisy is relieved by venesection ; that of pleurody- 
 nia, by anodynes and external applications. The 
 pain of acute rheumatism is postponed by opium ; 
 that of gout, by colchicnni. Synovitis is favorably 
 affected by rest ; chronic rheumatism, more fre- 
 quently by exercise. Demulcents, opiates, and even 
 astringents, have their use in various irritations of 
 
240 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OF 
 
 the mucous membranes. Cathartics, laxatives, emet- 
 ics, leeches, counter-irritants, cupping, hot and cold 
 applications, &c., are of benefit in various local and 
 general maladies. Yet these remedies, especially 
 the more energetic of them, are often employed 
 when not necessary, and become, by their degree 
 and frequency, rather sources of annoyance than of 
 relief. Violent cathartics are followed by increased 
 constipation, when milder laxatives or enemata 
 would not have induced that evil. Blisters, anti- 
 monial ointments, salivation, &c., may continue to 
 afiSdct the patient long after the disease is gone. 
 The eflfects of powerful depletion are felt for months, 
 and sometimes for years. Excessive stimulation 
 by vinous liquids may create or renew disease, or 
 give rise to pernicious artificial wants. To pre- 
 scribe blindly for symptoms, irrespectively of their 
 cause, is often in the highest degree injudicious. 
 The alvine discharges of dysentery and typhoid 
 fever are the natural ventings of an inflamed, per- 
 haps ulcerated, membrane : the pain and the excess 
 may be abated by the gentlest anodynes ; but the 
 attempt to check them altogether would be like the 
 drying up of an external ulcer, of equal dimensions, 
 by the sudden application of astringents. The ob- 
 ject might be attained for a day, but the result 
 would be pernicious. Having already touched upon 
 this subject, I have only to add, that if many of the 
 troublesome appliances and severe exactions of 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 241 
 
 modern practice were superseded by gentler, more 
 soothing, and more natural means, a good would be 
 done to the human race comparable to the conver- 
 sion of swords into ploughshares. 
 
 It is the part of rational medicine still to strive 
 and study for the cure of diseases ; not to assume 
 fallaciously as practical truth what has never been 
 shown to be true, but rather to search and labor for 
 new truth, for which it is never too late to hope. 
 The rational physician will ever be ready to weigh 
 and examine, candidly and carefully, new practical 
 questions and proposed modes of treatment, whether 
 introduced for the alleviation or the removal of dis- 
 eases ; and he will recollect, that although nineteen 
 out of every twenty of the new methods proposed 
 may be worthless, yet the twentieth may perhaps 
 possess some valuable quality. It is known that the 
 most established laws of science cease to be such 
 when their exceptions have been detected and made 
 out. Some of the most important advances in 
 human knowledge have been among the latest in 
 date. The great American discovery of artificial 
 anaesthesia has been wished and waited for by man- 
 kind ever since the Flood ; yet the effectual conquest 
 of pain is, as it were, a thing of yesterday. 
 
 It is the part of rational medicine to require evi- 
 dence for what it admits and believes. The cum- 
 brous fabric now called therapeutic science is, in a 
 
 great measure, built up on the imperfect testimony 
 
 16 
 
242 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 of credulous, hasty, prejudiced, or incompetent wit- 
 nesses, such as have afforded authorities for books 
 like Murray's " Apparatus Medicaminum," and Hah- 
 nemann's " Organon." The enormous polypharmacy 
 of modern times is an excrescence on science, un- 
 supported by any evidence of necessity or fitness; 
 and of which the more complicated formulas are so 
 arbitrary and useless, that, if by any chance they 
 should be forgotten, not one in a hundred of them 
 would ever be re-invented. And as to the chroni- 
 cles of cure of- diseases that are not yet known to 
 be curable, they are written, not in the pages of 
 philosophic observers, but in the tomes of compilers, 
 the crudities of journalists, and the columns of 
 advertisers. 
 
 It is the part of rational medicine to enlighten the 
 public and the profession in regard to the true powers 
 of the healing art. The community require to be 
 undeceived and re-educated, so far as to know what 
 is true and trustworthy from what is gratuitous, un- 
 founded, and fallacious. And the profession them 
 selves will proceed with confidence, self-approval, 
 and success, in proportion as they shall have in- 
 formed mankind on these important subjects. The 
 exaggerated impressions now prevalent in the world, 
 in regard to the powers of medicine, serve only to 
 keep the profession and the public in a false posi- 
 tion, to encourage imposture, to augment the num- 
 ber of candidates struggling for employment, to 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 243 
 
 burden and disappoint the community already over^ 
 taxed, to lower the standard of professional charac- 
 ter, and raise empirics to the leTel of honest and 
 enlightened physicians. 
 
 I AM not willing to leave the subject of Rational 
 Medicine without more earnestly calling the atten- 
 tion of the profession in the United States, to the 
 admirable work of Sir John Forbes, already alluded 
 to, on " Nature and Art in the Cure of Disease," of 
 which an American edition has recently appeared. 
 No testimony of mine can be needed to make known 
 the claims of one of the most accomplished medical 
 scholars of Europe, of whose philosophic mind, vig- 
 orous perceptions, and clear, discriminating, and 
 impartial judgment, this volume is a legitimate pro- 
 duct and a convincing evidence. 
 
 Neither is it necessary to inform the public, that, 
 as one of the pioneers in the reform now in progress, 
 the same author published, in 1846, in the " British 
 and Foreign Medical Review," an elaborate article, 
 bearing the title of " Young Physic," which, though 
 somewhat startling in the novelty of its positions, 
 and by many disapproved for the credit given to 
 statements of questionable parties, had, nevertheless, 
 the effect, both in England and this country, to in- 
 crease public attention to inquiries which the pres- 
 ent volume is so well adapted to satisfy. Some of 
 
244 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 the concluding propositions of this able article, not 
 everywhere accessible to American readers, are re- 
 printed as an Appendix to this article. It appeared 
 nine years after the treatise on " Self-limited Dis- 
 eases" was published in this country. 
 
 In France, perhaps more than any other country, 
 the natural history of disease has been studied irre- 
 spectively of artificial influences. When the modes 
 of rigorous investigation, to which in that country 
 the laws of morbid affections have been submitted, 
 shall have been carried as far as possible into the 
 more complex and difficult subject of therapeutics, 
 they will at least help to guard it from the errors of 
 premature and speculative generalization, to which 
 the medical world has in all ages been prone.* 
 
 Of the contributions to rational medicine which 
 have been made in this country, it gives me gratifi- 
 cation to refer to various able, just, and eloquent 
 
 * The numerical method, so advantageously applied by Louis and his 
 successors to determine approximately the pathological character of dis- 
 eases, cannot be well applied to the more complex subject of medical 
 treatment, without great caution and reserve on the score of inference. 
 Things submitted to this ordeal must be such as have some obvious con- 
 nection with each other; otherwise we are liable to be led into error by 
 the most careful observation and analysis. Such would be the case if we 
 were to attempt to settle numerically the questions, whether medicine 
 applied to a weapon promoted the cure of a wound, — whether the hang- 
 ing of witches had favorably affected the duration of epidemics, — whether 
 it is safe for sailors to go to sea on Friday, &c. These are questions 
 which are settled by the common sense of an enlightened age, and not 
 by numerical analysis. The extensive numerical trials, made in different 
 countries, on the effect of bleeding in pneumonia, have not yet afforded 
 resultB fully satisfactoiy to inqmrers. It is worthy of notice, that ques- 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 245 
 
 discourses and essays, by my friends and others, 
 which have appeared at different times. Among 
 these should be distinguished a Discourse " On the 
 Condition, Prospects, and Duties of the Medical 
 Profession," by Edward Reynolds, M.D., published 
 in 1841 ; a Discourse entitled " Search oiit the Se- 
 crets of Nature," by Augustus A. Gould, M.D., 
 1855 ; a Discourse on " Nature in Disease," by 
 Benjamin E. Cotting, M.D., 1852 ;* a Prize Essay 
 on " Rational Therapeutics," by Professor Worth- 
 ington Hooker, of New Haven, 1857 ; also a previ- 
 ous volume, by the same able and intelligent writer, 
 entitled " Physician and Patient," 1849. 
 
 If it be permitted to refer to an extra-professional 
 authority, bearing, nevertheless, the marks of much 
 ijitelligont observation, I would cite, in behalf of 
 the same cause, " The Rational Doctor," in the 
 " Household Words " of Charles Dickens. 
 
 tiona of relief are more promptly settled than questions of duration and 
 of safety. A man suffering the orthopnoea of pleurisy will lie down and 
 breathe with comparative ease after venesection; and this is sufficient 
 motive for the reasonable use of that remedy. But the length and safety 
 of the disease, under different modes of treatment, afford questions yet to 
 be settled, if at all, by a vast amount of observation, by competent per- 
 sons, under the various differences of constitution, degree, complication, 
 season, age, &c. 
 
 * Since the publication of the above, a very able address, by Dr. 
 Cotting, has been delivered at the annual meeting of the Massachusetts 
 Medical Society in 1866, on Disease as a Part of the Plan of Creation. 
 It has been translated into French in Paris, and bids fair to be the intro- 
 duction to a novel and interesting branch of inquiry. 
 
246 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 APPENDIX TO EXPOSITIONS OF RATIONAL 
 MEDICINE. 
 
 The following are the principal remarks of Sir J. Forbes, ap- 
 pended, as a sort of recapitulation, to his article in the "British 
 and Foreign Medical Review," vol. xxi. p. 262. They are there 
 submitted by him as things to be reflected and acted on by the 
 medical profession. A great portion of them, though perhaps 
 not all, are applicable in this country as well as in England. 
 
 "1. To endeavor to ascertain, much more precisely than 
 has been done hitherto, the natural course and event of dis- 
 eases, when uninterrupted by artificial interference; in other 
 words, to attempt to establish a true natural history of human 
 diseases. 
 
 "2. To reconsider aild study afresh the physiological and 
 curative effects of all our therapeutic agents, with a view to 
 obtain more positive results than we now possess. 
 
 "3. To endeavor to establish, as far as is practicable, what 
 diseases are curable, and what are not ; what are capable of 
 receiving benefit from medical treatment, and what are not; 
 what treatment is the best, the safest, the most agreeable ; when 
 it is proper to administer medicine, and when to refrain from 
 administering it, &c., &c. 
 
 " 4. To endeavor to introduce a more philosophical and ac- 
 curate view of the relations of remedies to the animal economy 
 and to diseases, so as to dissociate in the minds of practitioneirs 
 the notions of post hoc and propter hoc." 
 
 "The general adoption by practitioners, in recording their 
 experience, of the system known by the name of the Numerical 
 
 * Subsequent and consequent. 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 247 
 
 MetJwd, is essential to the attainment of the ends proposed in 
 the preceding paragraphs, as well as in many that are to follow. 
 
 " 5. To endeavor to banish, from the treatment of acute and 
 dangerous diseases at least, the ancient axiom, ' Melius anceps 
 remedium quam nullum;'* and to substitute in its place the 
 safer and wiser dogma, that, where we are not certain of an 
 indication, we should give nature the best chance of doing the 
 work herself, by leaving her operations undisturbed by those of 
 art. 
 
 " 6. To endeavor to substitute, for the monstrous system of 
 Polypharmacy now universally prevalent, one that is, at least, 
 vastly more simple, more intelligible, more agreeable, and, it 
 may be hoped, one more rational, more scientific, more certain, 
 and more beneficial. 
 
 "7. To direct redoubled attention to hygiene, public and 
 private, with the view of preventing diseases on the large scale; 
 and, individually, in our sphere of practice. Here the surest and 
 most glorious triumphs of medical science are achieving and 
 to be achieved. 
 
 " 8. To inculcate generally a milder and less energetic 
 mode of practice, both in acute and chronic diseases ; to en- 
 courage the Expectant preferably to the Heroic system, — at 
 least where the indications of treatment are not manifest. 
 
 " 9. To discountenance all active and powerful medication 
 in the acute exanthemata and fevers of specific type, as small- 
 pox, measles, scarlatina, typhus, &c., untU we obtain some 
 evidence that the course of these diseases can be beneficially 
 modified by remedies. 
 
 " 10. To discountenance, as much as possible, and eschew 
 the habitual use — without any sufficient reason — of certain 
 powerful medicines, in large doses, in a multitude of different 
 diseases ; a practice now generally prevalent, and fraught with 
 the most banefiil consequences. 
 
 " This is one of the besetting sins of English practice, and 
 originates partly in false theory, and partly in the desire to see 
 manifest and strong effects resulting from the action of medi- 
 
 • A doubtful remedy is better than none. 
 
248 BRIEF EXPOSITIONS OP 
 
 cines. Mercury, iodine, colchicum, antimony, also purgatives 
 in general, and blood-letting, are fiightfuUy misused in this 
 manner. 
 
 " 11. To encourage the administration of simple, feeble, or 
 altogether powerless, non-perturbing medicines, in all cases in 
 which drugs are prescribed pro forma, for the satisfaction of 
 the patient's mind, and not with the view of producing any di- 
 rect remedial effect. 
 
 " One would hardly think such a caution necessary, were it 
 not that everyday observation proves it to be so. The system 
 of giving and also of taking drugs capable of producing some 
 obvious effect — on the sensations, at least, if not on the func- 
 tions — has become so inveterate in this country, that even 
 our placebos have, in the hands of our modern doctors, lost 
 their original quality of harmlessness, and often please their 
 very patients more by being made unpleasant ! 
 
 " 12. To make every effort, not merely to destroy the prev- 
 alent system of giving a vast quantity and variety of unneces- 
 sary and useless drugs, — to say the least of them, — but to 
 encourage extreme simplicity in the prescription of medicines 
 that seem to be requisite. 
 
 " Our system is here greatly and radically wrong. Our offi- 
 cinal formulse are already most absurdly and mischievously com- 
 plex, and our fashion is to double and redouble the existing 
 complexities. This system is a most serious impediment in the 
 way of ascertaining the precise and peculiar powers (if any) 
 of the individual drugs, and thus interferes, in the most impor- 
 tant manner, with the progress of therapeutics. 
 
 " We are aware of the arguments that are adduced in de- 
 fence of medicinal combinations. We do not deny that some 
 of these combinations are beneficial, and therefore proper; 
 but there cannot be a question as to the enormous 'evils, speak- 
 ing generally, resulting from them. Nothing has a greater ten- 
 dency to dissociate practical medicine from science, and to 
 stamp it as a trade, than this system of pharmaceutical artifice. 
 It takes some years of the student's life to learn the very things 
 which are to block up his path to future knowledge. A very 
 elegant prescriber is seldom a good physician. 
 
RATIONAL MEDICINE. 249 
 
 " 13. To endeavor to break through the routine habit, uni- 
 versally prevalent, of prescribing certain determinate remedies 
 for certain determinate diseases or symptoms of diseases, 
 merely because the prescriber has been taught to do so, and on 
 no better grounds than conventional tradition. 
 
 " Even when the medicines so prescribed are innocuous, the 
 routine proceeding impedes real knowledge, by satisfying the 
 mind, and thus producing inaction. When the drugs are potent, 
 the crime of mischief is superadded to the folly of empiricism. 
 In illustration, we need merely notice the usual reference, in 
 this country, of almost all chronic diseases accompanied with 
 derangement of the intestinal functions, to ' affection of the 
 liver,' and the consequent prescription of mercury in some of 
 its forms. We do not hesitate to say, that this theory is as far 
 wrong as the practice founded on it is injurious ; we can hardly 
 fitrther enhance the amount of its divarication from the truth. 
 
 " 14. To place in a more prominent point of view the great 
 value and importance of what may be termed the physiological, 
 hygienic, or natural system of curing diseases, especially chronic 
 diseases, in contradistinction to the pharmaceutical or empirical 
 drug-plan generally prevalent. This system, founded as it is 
 on a more comprehensive inquiry into all the remote and ex- 
 citing causes of disease, and on a more thorough appreciation 
 of all the discoverable disorders existing in all the organs and 
 functions of the body, does not, of course, exclude the use of 
 drugs, but regards them (generally speaking) as subservient 
 to hygienic, regiminal, and external means, such as the rigid 
 regulation of the diet, the temperature and purity of the air, 
 clothing, the mental and bodily exercise, &c., baths, friction, 
 change of air, travelling, change of occupation, &c., &c. 
 
 " 16. To endeavor to introduce a more comprehensive and 
 philosophical system of Nosology, at least in chronic diseases, 
 whereby the practitioner may be led less to consider the name 
 of a disease, or some one symptom, or some one local affection 
 in a disease, than the disease itself; that is, the whole of the 
 derangements existing in the body, and which it is his object to 
 remove, if possible. 
 
 " 16. To teach teaciers to teach the rising generation of 
 
250 BEIBP EXPOSITIONS. 
 
 medical men that it is infinitely more practical to be master of 
 the elements of medical science, and to know diseases thor- 
 oughly, than to know by rote a farrago of receipts, or to be 
 aware that certain doctors, of old or of recent times, have said 
 that certain medicines are good for certain diseases. 
 
 " 17. Also to teach stiidents, that no systematic or theoreti- 
 cal classification of diseases or of therapeutic agents, ever yet 
 promulgated, is true, or any thing like the truth ; and that none 
 can be adopted as a safe guide in practice. It is, however, 
 well that these systems should be known, as most of them 
 involve some pathological truths, and have left some practical 
 good behind them. 
 
 "18. To endeavor to enlighten the public as to the actual 
 powers of medicines, with a view to reconciling them to sim- 
 pler and mUder plans of treatment. To teach them the great 
 importance of having their diseases treated in their earliest 
 stages, in order to obtain a speedy and eificient cure ; and, by 
 some modification in the relations between the patient and 
 practitioner, to encourage and facilitate this early application 
 for relief. 
 
 " 19. To endeavor to abolish the system of medical practi- 
 tioners being paid by the amount of medicine sent in to their 
 patients, and even the practice of keeping and preparing medi- 
 cines in their own houses. 
 
 "Were a proper system introduced for securing a good 
 education to chemists and druggists, and for examining and 
 licensing them, — all of easy adoption, — there could be no 
 necessity for continuing even the latter practice ; while the 
 former is one so degrading to the medical character, and so 
 frightfully injurious to medicine in a thousand ways, that it 
 ought to be abolished forthwith, utterly, and for ever. 
 
 "20. Lastly, and above all, to bring up the medical mind 
 to the standard necessary for studying, comprehending, appre- 
 ciating, and exercising the most complex and difficult of the, 
 arts that are based on a scientific foundation, — the art of Prac- 
 tical Medicine. And this can only be done by elevating the 
 preliminary and fundamental education of the Medical Practi- 
 tioner." 
 
THE PARADISE OF DOCTORS. 
 
 A FABLE. 
 
 BEAD AT THE ANNUAL SINNER OF THE MASSACHXTSETIS MEDICAL 
 SOCIETT, MAY 26, 1858. 
 
 It happened, once, that a general awakening took 
 place among the physicians, druggists, and citizens 
 of the quiet old State of Massachusetts; during 
 vrhich it was discovered, that a great and culpable 
 neglect had long been prevalent throughout the 
 community, in regard to the important duty of 
 taking physic. A conviction fell upon all, that it 
 was now imperatively necessary that every man, 
 woman, and child should proceed at once and habit- 
 ually, in sickness and in health, to take three times 
 as much medicine as they had taken before. This 
 new revelation, explained and enforced by competent 
 authorities, quickened into sudden activity every 
 department of industry connected with the prepar- 
 ing, prescribing, and dispensing of drugs. The 
 rejpose of cities was disturbed in a manner not 
 before known, by the rattling of doctors' carriages, 
 
 and the braying of apothecaries' mortars. Messen- 
 
 [251] 
 
252 THE PARADISE OP DOCTORS. 
 
 gers were seen rapidly traversing streets and roads 
 in all directions, bearing prescriptions and composi- 
 tions. Nurses' wages were doubled, and cooks were 
 transformed into nurses. All things gave evidence, 
 that a great and portentous reform had come over 
 the land. 
 
 In all places of business and amusement, in the 
 street and in the drawing-room, physic was the 
 paramount subject of conversation. Newspapers 
 neglected to announce the arrival of steamers and 
 the brawls of Congress, that they might find place 
 for the last astonishing cures, and the most newly- 
 discovered specifics. Sympathetic intercommunica- 
 tions and experiences were imparted, and listened 
 to with untiring avidity. Many luxuries unknown 
 before found their way into society, dinners were 
 regularly medicated, wines scientifically sophisti- 
 cated, and desserts were made up of conserves, 
 electuaries, and dinner-pills. The atmosphere was 
 redolent with the incense of aloes and myrrh. 
 
 Clergymen and moralists forgot that men were 
 sinful ; it was quite enough that they were bilious. 
 Bile was regarded as the innate and original sin, 
 which was to be extirpated with fire and physic, 
 even from the new-born child. Nobody was aware 
 that bile is necessary to life ; no two persons were 
 agreed as to what the term bilious meant ; it was 
 something insidious, mysterious, and awful. Some 
 held that it consisted in having too much bile ; 
 
THE PARADISE OP D0CT0E8. 253 
 
 others in having too little. According to some, the 
 bUe was held back in the blood; according to 
 others, it was absorbed ready formed into the blood. 
 Pierce schisms and sects were generated on the 
 question, who, and whether any, were exempt from 
 its contaminating presence. The bon vivant, after 
 his night's carouse, furnished abundant demonstra- 
 tions of its existence on the following morning. A 
 healthy laborer, who had had the temerity to boast 
 of his freedom from bilious taint or suspicion, was 
 convicted and brought to his senses by the ordeal 
 of a dozen grains of tartar-emetic. 
 
 On the exchange, brokers postponed their stocks 
 and bonds, that they might publish daily lists 
 of the prices of drugs. Fortunes were made and 
 lost in drug speculations. A man grew rich by a 
 patent for manufacturing Peruvian bark out of pine 
 saw-dust. Gilded pills, of various weight and 
 potency, passed as a circulating medium, and were 
 freely taken at the shops in payment for better 
 goods. Finally, the physicians did not attempt to 
 eat or sleep, but barely found time to enter their 
 daily professional charges. They were worshipped 
 and run after, by both sick and well, as the legiti- 
 mate vehicles of medicine, and were ignominiously 
 deserted if in any case they ventured to pronounce 
 medicine unnecessary. 
 
 The fame of these doings went abroad, and 
 Massachusetts acquired the enviable celebrity of 
 
254 THE PARADISE OP DOCTORS. 
 
 being the Paradise of medical men. The doctors 
 in New Hampshire, and the druggists. in New York, 
 hearing of the success of their professional brethren 
 in this quarter, began to abandon their establish- 
 ments and remove into Massachusetts. The exam- 
 ple was followed in other States ; new recruits were 
 drawn from the counter and the plough ; and in a 
 short time the country and city were inundated by 
 swarms of medical practitioners of all denomina- 
 tions. Agreeably to the acknowledged law of com- 
 merce and political economy, that deniand and 
 supply necessarily regulate each other, the business 
 of many persons, which had undergone an undue 
 exaggeration, was at length found rapidly to decline 
 under increasing competition, and the aggregate 
 receipts of the year were found, to the cost of not 
 a few disciples of Esculapius, to be less than they 
 had ever been before. Medicines became drugs, 
 and the Paradise of Doctors became an excellent 
 place for doctors to starve in. Nevertheless, 
 although the market was as much glutted as the 
 people, still a large surplus, both of zeal and physic, 
 remained to be worked off in some way. 
 
 Meanwhile, the revival went on, and its effects 
 began to tell upon the faces and movements of the 
 people. There was a deficiency in the will to 
 undertake, and the power to execute, even common 
 enterprises. Men went languidly to their respec- 
 tive places of business, or stayed at home if it was 
 
THE PARADISE OF DOCTORS. 255 
 
 their day to take a purgative or an emetic. Purses 
 were found to be lightened, and the contour of 
 persons grew sensibly less. In one thing only the 
 economy of living was promoted: owing to the 
 decline of appetite, the consumption of food was 
 much diminished. Under this order of things, it 
 was noticed that labor and exercise were little in 
 vogue, and people betook themselves in preference 
 to the occupation of doing nothing. A small num- 
 ber, it is true, made a desperate effort to effect a 
 change by doubling their doses of physic ; but the 
 result did not encourage a repetition of the exper- 
 iment. At last a cholera came ; and, although a 
 forty-drug power was promptly brought to bear 
 upon it, the mortality was greater than it had ever 
 been known to be before. 
 
 Nevertheless, weak-minded men and strong- 
 minded women failed not to harangue audiences in 
 the streets, on the astonishing powers of medicine. 
 Spirit-rappers were summoned to evoke from their 
 rest the heroic shades of Rush and Bouillaud, 
 .Sangrado, Morrison, and Brandreth. These distin- 
 guished worthies exhorted their followers not to 
 shrink or falter under the trials to which they were 
 subjected, but rather to redouble their perseverance, 
 until the truth of the faith which they held should 
 be established by the testimony of their martyrdom 
 in its cause. 
 
 At length, a meeting accidentally took place 
 
256 THE PARADISE OP DOCTOHS. 
 
 between two old shipmasters, one of whom had lost 
 overboard his barrel of beef, and the other his 
 medicine-chest, in a gale of wind, at the commence- 
 ment of their passage. On examination and com- 
 parison of their respective crews, the contrast was 
 so marked between the ruddy faces of the latter, 
 and the lantern jaws of the former, that a general 
 mutiny sprang up in both crews against the further 
 tolerance of the ■ physic-taking part of their duty. 
 The contagious insurrection spread from Port Hill 
 to Copp's Hill ; and, on the following night, several 
 medicine-chests were thrown overboard by men in 
 the disguise of South-sea Islanders. 
 
 The spark which had struck the magazine caused 
 the whole population to explode. A universal 
 mass meeting was called upon Boston Common, 
 and protracted through several days and nights. 
 Agitators, reformers, and stump-orators delivered 
 their harangues and defined their positions. Many 
 speakers advocated an immediate application to 
 the Legislature, calling on them to prohibit, by an 
 especial act, all further traffic in drugs. One, more 
 violent than the rest, demanded that the meeting 
 should resolve itself into a committee of vigilance, 
 for the purpose of making a descent upon the 
 apothecaries' shops, and emptying the contents of 
 their bottles into the streets. He was willing to 
 allow to offenders themselves the option to quit 
 within twenty-four hours, or swallow their own 
 
THE PARADISE OP DOCTORS. 257 
 
 medicines. A more moderate citizen said he rose 
 in support of the general sentiment ; but would ofifer 
 an amendment, that, in the contemplated destruc- 
 tion, an exception should be made in favor of Bour- 
 bon whiskey. A few of the advocates of the policy 
 lately prevalent attempted to make themselves 
 Eeard ; but their voices were so attenuated, by the 
 long use of jalap and salts, that they failed to pro- 
 duce any considerable impression. 
 
 An old lady, whose shriU voice drew immediate 
 attention, protested against violent measures of all 
 kijids, and moved, as a middle course, that resort 
 should be had to homoeopathy. It never did any 
 harm, and was very comforting, especially when 
 well recommended by the physician. It cured her 
 child of the measles in six weeks, and herself of a 
 broken leg in six months, during which time she 
 had two hundred and ninety-five visits, and took 
 more than fifteen hundred globules. She had 
 walked to the meeting on her crutches, to exhibit to 
 the assembly the astonishing powers of the Hahne- 
 mannic system. Here she was interrupted by a 
 bluff marketer, who somewhat rudely pronounced 
 homoeopathy to be a great humbug, since, but a 
 short time before, his child had eaten part of a raw 
 pumpkin, and was seized with convulsions ; and the 
 physician who was sent for, instead of taking meas- 
 ures to dislodge the offending cause, took out a 
 little book, aind, remarking to the bystanders that 
 
 17 
 
258 THE PARADISE OF DOCTORS. 
 
 " like cures like," proceeded to prescribe the hun- 
 dred millionth part of another pumpkin. The 
 next person who rose was a manufacturer, who liad 
 calculated that the homoeopathic profit on the cost 
 of the raw material was altogether unreasonable. 
 He had himself expended seventy-five dollars in a 
 quarter of a grain of belladonna, so divided as to 
 keep off scarlet fever ; but found, after all, that he 
 had not bought enough, for his children had the 
 disease a little worse than any of their neighbors. 
 
 At last an old gentleman, moderately endowed 
 with common sense, got up, and inquired if there 
 was no such thing in the world as rational medicine, 
 and whether nothing could be made acceptable to 
 the public but extremes of absurdity. He asked if 
 it was necessary that every theologian should be a 
 Papist or an atheist, or every voter at the polls an 
 abolitionist or a fire-eater. He had had the good 
 fortune to know several very sensible, straight- 
 forward physicians, who gave medicine where it 
 was necessary, and omitted to give it where it was 
 unnecessary or detrimental. He deprecated the 
 routine practice, which, without understanding the 
 nature of a disease or the necessities of the exist- 
 ing case, inflicted a daily or hourly dose of medi- 
 cine, sometimes actual, and sometimes nominal, but 
 always at the cost of the patient. Medicine, in its 
 place, was a good thing, but proved a bad thing 
 when we got too much of it. He had himself had 
 
THE PARADISE OP D0CT0E8. 259 
 
 the misfortune to be several times sick; and, dur- 
 ing the continuance of his disease, felt much more 
 gratified on those days in which it was announced 
 that he was to take no medicine, than when tartar 
 emetic was replaced by calomel, and calomel by 
 colchicum, aconite, and the last new remedy. If 
 patients and their friends were ignorant and unreor 
 sonable, it might sometimes be necessary to deal 
 with a fool according to his foUy ; but he believed 
 that sensible men and women were gratified by 
 being regarded and treated as reasonable beings. 
 It was a mistake in medical men to suppose, that 
 their influence or social position could be improved 
 by the mystery which they observed, and the activity 
 with which they harassed their patients. In Great 
 Britain, an island where the people subsist largely 
 on blue pills and black draughts, the doctors were 
 never known to attain the high aristocratic rank 
 which was occasionally accorded to successful bank- 
 ers, jurists, and generals. On the contrary, the 
 country was overflowed with starved apothecaries 
 and physicians advertising for situations as travel- 
 ling servants. He thought one of the greatest 
 misapplications of human industry was in the pro 
 duction of superfluous drugs and drug dispensers. 
 He did not believe in the transmutation of metals, 
 but was a great believer in their transportation. In 
 the form of calomel, the city of New Orleans alone 
 had swallowed up some hundred tons of the quick- 
 
260 THE PARADISE OP DOCTOES. 
 
 silver of Spain and South America. Palaces were 
 being built in various cities alike from poisonous 
 arsenic and harmless sarsaparilla. A century hence, 
 the mines of gold will be sought for, not in Califor- 
 nia, but in the cemeteries of the old cities, where it 
 has been geologically deposited under the industry 
 of dentists. 
 
 He believed that the experienced and intelligent 
 part of the medical profession had long since 
 arrived at the conclusion, that many diseases were 
 self-limited, and that time and nature had quite as 
 much to do as art in the process of their cure. 
 Skilful physicians were always wanted to inform 
 the sick of the character of their diseases, and of 
 the best mode of getting through them ; and their 
 skill consisted not in the abundance of their nomi- 
 nal remedies, but in the judgment with which a few 
 remedies were administered or withheld, and in the 
 general safe conduct of the patient. Some diseases 
 are curable by art, and others are not ; yet, in the 
 treatment of all diseases, there is a right method 
 and a wrong, and too much activity is quite as 
 injurious as too little. A good shipmaster or pilot 
 could often navigate his vessel in safety, though he 
 could not cure the storm by which its safety was 
 endangered. He believed that medicine would have 
 fulfilled its true mission when doctors should have 
 enlightened the public on the important fact, that 
 there are certain things which medicine can do, and 
 
THE PARADISE OP DOCTOES. 261 
 
 certain other things which it cannot do ; instead 
 of assuming for it the power to do impossibiUties. 
 Among the, good eflfects which must ensue from 
 this diffusion of light would be the disappear- 
 ance of quackery from the world ; for quackery 
 consists almost wholly in medication. And the 
 more physicians lend themselves to formal, super- 
 fluous, and mysterious drugging, the more nearly 
 do they approach to being quacks themselves. He 
 considered physicians an important and necessary 
 class, to whose charge the sick always liad been, 
 and always would be, committed. He would gladly 
 cleanse the profession from the fanaticism of heroic 
 doctors on the one hand, and of moonstruck doctors 
 on the other; and would replace these forms of 
 delusion by a discriminating, sincere, intelligent, 
 and rational course of treating diseases. 
 
 The old gentleman sat down, and his speech 
 seemed good in the eyes of his audience. Resolu- 
 tions were moved and adopted, to the effect, that it 
 was unbecoming a free and enlightened people to 
 be drug-ridden or globule-ridden, and recommend- 
 ing recourse to temperance, exercise, regularity, and 
 rational medicine, whenever it happened that medi- 
 cal treatment was necessary. 
 
 The meeting quietly dissolved, and its members 
 returned to their respective homes, most of them 
 satisfied that the revival was passed, and that 
 medicine was not altogether the one thing needful. 
 
262 THE PARADISE OF DOCTOBS. 
 
 In a short time the price of drugs fell in the market, 
 while that of provisions advanced. The New-Hamp- 
 shire doctors and the New-York druggists, finding 
 their occupations gone, returned to the places from 
 which they respectively came. The surplus of in- 
 digenous medical men went off to California, or 
 retired to cultivate the earth in the interior counties. 
 Paces assumed a more vigorous and healthy aspect ; 
 and the country once more resounded with the 
 music of the axe and the hammer, and the cheerful 
 rattling of knives and forks. Steam-engines, which 
 had been erected for the pulverization of drugs, 
 were attached to saw-mills and spinning jennies. 
 Last of all, a noble and useful art, which had long 
 been depressed under the effects of its own exagger- 
 ation, was enabled once more to raise its respectable 
 head, and to regain the confidence of society, under 
 the name of Rational Medicine. 
 
PRACTICAL VIEWS ON MEDICAL 
 EDUCATION.* 
 
 The undecided state of public opinion in regard to 
 some of the fundamental points in a course of med- 
 ical education, including among other things the 
 portion of the term of pupilage proper to be spent 
 in attendance on lectures, is thought to justify a 
 further consideration of the subject. In some of 
 its relations, this subject has already been dis- 
 cussed, in the " Transactions of the American Medi- 
 cal Association for 1849," in two reports, pages 353 
 and 359, to which the reader is particularly re- 
 ferred. The following condensed but more gen- 
 eral view of the subject of medical education is 
 now respectfully submitted to the members of the 
 Association. 
 
 Medical instruction should be adapted to the 
 power of students to receive and retain what is 
 communicated to them, and should be confined to 
 what is important to them in their subsequent life. 
 
 * Published by vote of the Medical Faculty of Harvard University 
 
 in 1850. 
 
 [263] 
 
264 PEACTICAL VIEWS ON 
 
 In modern times, the constituent branches of 
 medical science are so expanded, that they are not 
 acquired by any physician in a lifetime, and still 
 less by a student during his pupilage. The same 
 is true even of many individual branches. It is 
 not, therefore, to be conceded, that " a scheme of 
 scientific instruction should embrace the whole 
 science, and no part should be omitted ; " nor that 
 " a well-digested plan of lectures embraces all that 
 is to be known and taught." Medical science has 
 at this day become so unwieldy, and contains so 
 much that is unnecessary, at least to beginners, 
 that the attempt to explain to students the whole 
 is likely to involve the result of their learning but 
 little. 
 
 In Chemistry, at the presient time, a thorough 
 adept is unknown. No man living knows all the 
 recorded facts, or all that is to be known and 
 taught, in that science. Organic chemistry alone 
 fills large volumes, though yet in its infancy. 
 
 In Materia Medica there are some thousands of 
 substances and their compounds, which possess what 
 is called a medicinal power. Yet it is not probable 
 that any physician effectively reads the one half, or 
 remembers one quarter, or employs in his yearly 
 practice one tenth, of the contents of the common 
 dispensatories. 
 
 In Pathology, so complicated and various are the 
 conditions attendant on the individual forms of 
 
MEDICAL EDUCATION. 265 
 
 disease, and their relations with idiosyncrasy, tem- 
 porary condition, and external agency, with organic 
 lesions and functional disturbances, that few of the 
 most experienced pathologists can be said to under- 
 stand their whole science, or to be always compe- 
 tent to its successful application. 
 
 In Etiology, the theoretical literature of causes 
 has spread itself out to an extent which is bur- 
 densome and unprofitable. It is true that "man, 
 from his nature, is subject to suffering, disease, and 
 death ; " but it is not equally apparent that " the 
 causes by which these conditions are produced are 
 ascertainable." We know nothing of the vehicle 
 of cholera or influenza; nor is it probably in the 
 power of any physician, by any art or application 
 of his knowledge, to produce, in a given healthy 
 man, a case of common pneumonia or of acute 
 rheumatism, of diabetes or Bright's kidney, of 
 hypertrophy or of cancer, or even of a common 
 boil or wart. 
 
 In Therapeutics, many hundred volumes exist, 
 such as would not have existed could a knowledge 
 of the cure of diseases be made so easily tangible, 
 that it could be spread before the student in the 
 three or five years of his pupilage. 
 
 In Anatomy, general and special, microscopic 
 and transcendental ; in physiology, with its intricate 
 ramifications ; in Surgery, of which several sub- 
 ordinate specialities constitute distinct living pro- 
 
266 PEACTICAL VIEWS ON 
 
 fessions,— it is not to be admitted that the means 
 or time of any ordinary course of lectures can fur- 
 nish full and complete instruction. Certainly it 
 must be difi&cult to arrange a course of lectures on 
 any of the extensive sciences which now constitute 
 medicine, if it be indeed true that " the teachers 
 are not justifiable in suppressing any portion." 
 
 It is the business of lecturers in medical schools 
 to condense and abridge the sciences which they 
 respectively teach, to distinguish their essential and 
 elementary principles, to sift carefully the usefiil 
 from the superfluous, and to confine the scope of 
 their teachings, as far as possible, to what is true 
 and profitable, and likely to be remembered and 
 used by their hearers. It is unfortunately too true, 
 that, " in an extended system of instruction, there 
 is much that the student will not master, much 
 that will have escaped his attention, much which 
 he ought to know that he has not learned." The 
 remedy appears to be, to teach him well what he 
 can and should master, and briefly to point out to 
 him the sources, fortunately abundant, from which 
 he may obtain the rest. 
 
 Much injury is done to the cause of true learning 
 by medical assumption, amplification, and exaggera- 
 tion, by premature adoption of novelties, and by 
 tenacity of theories, personal or espoused. Stu- 
 dents, in all former years, have expended much 
 time in learning what it afterwards cost them both 
 
MEDICAL EDUCATION. 267 
 
 time and trouble to unlearn, — in acquiring, not 
 merely the truths of science, but the crude an- 
 nouncements and plausible doctrines of sanguine 
 or ingenious men. How much time has been 
 wasted, in some of our distinguished seminaries, 
 in acquiring the visionary and now neglected theo- 
 ries of Eush and Broussais ! 
 
 The most commonly exaggerated branch of medi- 
 cal science is therapeutics. Enliglitened physicians 
 well know that many diseases are incurable, and 
 that others are subject to laws of duration which 
 cannot be interrupted by art. Yet students some- 
 times return from medical schools, persuaded that 
 their instructors know how to cure a large part of 
 these diseases; and that, if others are less fortu- 
 nate, it is attributable to their own fault. 
 
 Medical teachers should keep pace with the prog- 
 ress of their respective sciences. Yet, in their 
 haste for the promulgation of novelties, they should 
 not omit to give the proper consideration to the 
 older and more settled principles of science. Med- 
 ical men are liable to commit the error of adopting 
 premature opinions, unsound practice, and incon- 
 venient changes of language and nomenclature, — 
 sometimes from a love of display, and sometimes 
 from a want of self-reliance, and a fear of being 
 thought behind the literature of their time. 
 
 The length of a course of lectures is not the 
 measure of its value to the student. A course of 
 
268 
 
 PEACTICAL VIEWS ON 
 
 lectures should not outlast the curiosity of its 
 hearers, nor their average pecuniary ability to at- 
 tend. Custom in this country has generally fixed 
 the limits of these things at ahout four months. 
 A comprehensive and judicious course, confined to 
 the enforcing of necessary points, is far more prof- 
 itable than a more discursive course to a wearied 
 and diminishing audience. 
 
 Lectures are chiefly wanted to impress, by demon- 
 stration, the practical branches of science ; and they 
 are most efiective in places where the facilities for 
 such demonstrations can be commanded. Anato- 
 my requires extensive exhibitions by the teacher, 
 and personal dissections by the student. Chem- 
 istry and Materia Medica require illustrations by 
 specimens and experiments. Pathology needs the 
 aid of autopsies, museums, and the clinical dem- 
 onstrations of large hospitals. A knowledge of 
 Obstetrics is not perfected without apparatus and 
 practice. Surgery is acquired by witnessing numer- 
 ous operations, surgical diseases, illustrated expla- 
 nations, and by personal practice on the dead body. 
 Physical exploration is wholly demonstrative. A 
 knowledge of auscultation can no more be acquired 
 from books, or abstract lectures, than a knowledge 
 of music or of individual physiognomy. 
 
 The intermediate period between lectures should 
 be spent by students in active and original study, 
 approved and confirmed by regular recitations, and 
 
MEDICAL EDUCATION. 269 
 
 by such opportunities as can be commanded for 
 practical, personal experience. Private schools for 
 small classes, and the private teaching of individ- 
 uals who are suitably qualified and situated, are 
 more advantageous, for two thirds of the year, than 
 either the fatiguing jostle of overcrowded rooms, 
 or the listless routine kept up by the survivors of a 
 passive class. 
 
 The usefulness of a medical school depends, not 
 so much on the length of its session, as upon 
 the amount of education, preliminary and ultimate, 
 which it requires, the fidelity with which it exacts 
 its own professed requisitions, and the train ' of 
 healthy exertion, active inquiry, and rigid, methodi- 
 cal, self-regulating study, to which it introduces its 
 pupils. The longest lectures are of little use to 
 students who want a common education, and whose 
 medical education does not qualify them afterwards 
 to observe, to inquire, and to discriminate. The 
 exacted evidence of three years of well-conducted 
 study is better than the exhibited ticket of a six- 
 months course. 
 
 The subjects most important to be well taught in 
 medical schools are the elementary principles which 
 constitute the framework of medical sciences, and 
 the mode of thought and inquiry which leads to 
 just reasoning upon them. After these, most 
 attention should be given to selecting and enforcing 
 such practical truths as will most certainly be 
 
270 PRACTICAL VIEWS OK MEDICAL EDUCATION. 
 
 wanted by the young practitioner in his future 
 career of responsibility. 
 
 The things to be avoided by medical teachers 
 are technicalities, which are unintelligible to begin- 
 ners ; gratuitous assumptions, and citations of doubt- 
 ful authorities; prolix dissertations on speculative 
 topics ; excessive minuteness in regard to subjects 
 which are intricate and but little used, and there- 
 fore destined to be speedily forgotten. To these 
 may be added controversies, superfluous personal 
 eulogiums and criminations, and all self-exaggera- 
 tion, personal or local. 
 
ON THE EAELY HISTORY OP MEDICINE* 
 
 It is commonly understood, that the history of med- 
 icine has already been traced, with sufficient accu- 
 racy, in all ages and countries where authorities for 
 its elucidation are extant. The labors of Le Clerc, 
 Friend, Haller, and Cabanis seem to have left very 
 little to be wished in this department of science. 
 But, although a general history of medicine is 
 by no means a desideratum at the present day, 
 yet there are undoubtedly parts of it which are 
 still susceptible of correction or enlargement. Dr. 
 Edward Miller, the author of the present " Disquisi- 
 tions," apprises us that he has been induced to 
 attempt them, partly from some singular traits 
 which he thought he had discovered in the medicine 
 of the early Greeks, and partly from the extraordi- 
 nary advancement made of late years in Sanscrit 
 literature. By means of this last we are informed, 
 that, long previous to its introduction into Europe, 
 
 * From a Review of Miller's Disquisitions on the History of Medi- 
 cine, published in the New-England Journal of Medicine and Surgery, 
 April, 1812. 
 
 L271] 
 
272 EARLY HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 
 
 the science of healing had made very considerable 
 progress in Hindostan ; yet to commemorate its 
 details, or appreciate its merits, has never yet been 
 the task of any historian in medicine. This new 
 field of research Professor Miller has attempted to 
 cultivate, and the fruits of his oriental inquiries are 
 to constitute a second volume of "Disquisitions." 
 In the mean time, the present volume, containing 
 general archaeological remarks, with speculations on 
 the primitive physic of Greece and Egypt, is sub- 
 mitted to the ordeal of the public. 
 
 It must be exceedingly obvious, that, prior to 
 the introduction of letters, no very definite infor- 
 mation can be expected with regard to the state of 
 medical practice in any country. If the tradition- 
 ary account of the most important and notorious 
 events, such as battles and sieges, the rise and 
 fall of heroes and of empires, is involved in neces- 
 sary uncertainty, we cannot expect that a complex 
 science, closely interwoven in early ages with mys- 
 tery and superstition, should reach us in a state 
 capable of affording much satisfaction. The few 
 traditions handed down to us from the primitive 
 ages afford matter for speculation to the curious, 
 but yield no certainty to the accurate. 
 
 Dr. Miller, seemingly aware of the difficulties 
 attendant on this part of his subject, has thought 
 it proper to commence the present undertaking 
 with a sort of history d priori, or presumptive his- 
 
EARLY HISTOBY OP MEDICINE. 273 
 
 tory, of medicine in its primeval state. He begins 
 with stating the progress of observation and reason- 
 ing, which would naturally be made by the early 
 and rude nations, in regard to the phenomena of 
 life, health, disease, and death. He details the 
 manner in which a gradual acquaintance would 
 be formed with the nutritious, medical, and delete- 
 rious effects of the various productions of nature ; 
 and from hence assigns to the Materia Medica the 
 supreme honors of antiquity. Afterwards comes 
 the knowledge of practical physic, of anatomy, and 
 of surgery, in proportion as men became habituated 
 to watch the progress and cure of diseases, to 
 butcher and dissect brute animals, to sacrifice, eat, 
 or embalm their own species, and to inflict or 
 remedy the wounds and injuries occasioned in war 
 or elsewhere. 
 
 After this we are presented with an interesting 
 account of that tract of territory, which we have 
 reason to believe contained the earliest tribes of 
 our species. To this region, composed chiefly of 
 Egypt, Ethiopia, Turkey, Arabia, Persia, and India, 
 Dr. M. gives the collective name of the Prinmval 
 Chersonese.* He expatiates on the exuberance of 
 its son, the variety and value of its productions, 
 its inducements for agriculture, and facilities for 
 commercial intercourse. He represents that six 
 
 * This application of tlie term Cherioneie, we tliink, rather stretcIieH 
 its ancient signification. 
 
 18 
 
274 EARLY HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 
 
 races or steins have, from time immemorial, occu- 
 pied this ample and favored portion of the earth's 
 surface. These are the Chinese, the Hindus, the 
 Tartars, the Iranians (or Assyrians), the Arabs, 
 and lastly the Nilotic tribes, or those of Egypt and 
 Ethiopia. Among these he assigns an undoubted 
 claim for priority of civilization to three nations, 
 the Hindus, the Iranians, and the tribes inhabiting 
 the banks of the Nile. The individual claims of 
 these three he compromises, by endeavoring to 
 prove, from tradition and history, from identity of 
 language, &c., from conformity of religious and 
 philosophical opinions, and, lastly, from similitude 
 of corporeal structure, that they were only separate 
 branches of one and the same individual family or 
 race of men. In this investigation the author gives 
 proofs of extensive and assiduous research. 
 
 Before quitting the general subject of the Primae- 
 val Chersonese, we are made minutely acquainted 
 with its natural productions, or those articles which 
 must have constituted the earliest food and medi- 
 cine of man. 
 
 We now come to the particular history of medi- 
 cine in early Greece, as it existed during the tradi- 
 tionary ages. On collecting the scattered rays of 
 information respecting this period, chiefly from the 
 poets, our author alights on a curious circum- 
 stance, which he makes the basis of this chapter ; 
 viz., "That, for its first discoveries and improve- 
 
■ EARLY HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 275 
 
 mentSj medicine in Greece appears indebted almost 
 wholly to two orders of men, from whom sucli 
 benefit was not likely to be derived, viz. : — 
 
 " 1. The chiefs or sovereigns of its diflFerenfc 
 small communities. 
 
 " 2. The priests or ministers of religion." 
 
 Upon this ground the author proceeds to give us 
 two dissertations on the heroic and the priestly 
 medicine of Greece. And, first, of " heroic medi- 
 cine." 
 
 On this subject we are told, that scarcely a royal 
 or distinguished personage, during the traditionary 
 period, can be named, to whom some degree of 
 medical skill has not been accorded. The ascrip- 
 tion of this honor is traced to several causes, such 
 as the obscurity which hangs over the beginning 
 of all arts ; the veneration which savage tribes 
 entertain for the character of their leaders; and 
 the policy which would lead these chiefs to main- 
 tain their ascendency by the display of every spe- 
 cies of personal merit or skill, that of medicine 
 being not the least imposing. The practice of these 
 heroic physicians, wloich the author believes to 
 have been chiefly surgical, is illustrated by various 
 accounts of the therapeutic exploits performed by 
 several individuals. These are Chiron, Esculapius, 
 Machaon, Podalirius, Achilles, Teucer, &c., &c., &o. 
 The claims for medical distinction are, indeed, so 
 numerous, that they may be said to atoount to no 
 
276 EAJEOiT HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 
 
 distinction at all ; since every man whose name has 
 been handed down to us as holding a rank in a tol- 
 erable degree above the vulgar, would seem entitled 
 to enrolment among the faculty. Chiron the Cen- 
 taur is stated to have been preceptor to nearly all 
 the heroes who figured in the Argonautic and Tro- 
 jan expeditions. Now, as Chiron was one of those 
 universal geniuses, who was competent to exercise 
 the arduous and multiform functions of warrior 
 and necromancer, of horse-breaker, musician, and 
 doctor, it must be supposed that those who received 
 the supreme honors of his school were not ushered 
 into the world without a smattering of these vari- 
 ous accomplishments. Hence the crew of the 
 " Argo " might, on emergency, be considered a crew 
 of the faculty ; and the council of warriors in Aga- 
 memnon's camp required only a change of occasion 
 to resolve them into a jury of doctors. 
 
 We have already intimated, that any accounts 
 now extant respecting the medicine of the early 
 Greeks must be extremely unsatisfactory. We may 
 now add, that, from the few authorities we have, it 
 may be doubted whether any proficiency in medi- 
 cine was ever made among them, beyond what 
 a rude individual would naturally attain in the 
 science of self-preservation. The boasted achieve- 
 ments performed by their distinguished personages 
 apparently consisted in some trifling and obvious 
 operations, or else in such exaggerated and miracu- 
 
EARLY HISTORY OF MEDICINE. 277 
 
 lous performances as distance all possibility of 
 belief. Tiie heroic or surgical practice among them 
 was confined chiefly to the extraction of weapons 
 and the dressing of wounds. The highest praise 
 which Homer has bestowed on the medical or surgi- 
 cal profession is contained in the following lines : — 
 
 'IriTpdg y&p ivt/p vo^MJv avra^iog SMav, 
 
 'loif t" iKTafivsiv, km t' tjiria ^apiMna naaaeiv, — 
 
 which amount to simply this, that " one doctor is 
 worth a host of other men, to cut out arrows, and 
 apply mild dressings." And, indeed, whenever he 
 tells us of such a man being actually engaged iu 
 practice, it is commonly iji one or the other of the 
 above processes. Now, it could require no great 
 depth of intellect to discover, that, if a barbed arrow 
 stuck in the flesh, it could most easily be removed 
 by excision ; and that, if a wound became dry and 
 painful from exposure to the air, it might be made 
 more comfortable by covering it with emollient ap- 
 plications. 
 
 But, with such humble and obvious operations as 
 these, the ancient physicians could not have sus- 
 tained their elevated rank in society, and substanti- 
 ated their claims upon immortality. It became 
 necessary, in order to secure complete ascendency 
 over the public mind, that they should profess an 
 intercourse with the gods, a knowledge of mysteri- 
 ous charms and incantations, and other special gifts 
 peculiar to jugglers in all nations since their time. 
 
278 EARLY HISTOET OP MEDICINE. 
 
 Very surprising stories are told of Melampus, Poly- 
 idus, and Chiron. These, however, are small when 
 compared with the feats of Esculapius, the prince 
 of physicians, and the deified iliventor of medicine. 
 Esculapius, in addition to many other astonishing 
 powers, was gifted with a very remarkable faculty, 
 peculiar to himself, of raising at pleasure the dead 
 to life. Not less than six or seven instances are on 
 record of distinguished corpses that were benefited 
 by the exertion of this happy talent. It is impos- 
 sible to say how far the bounds of science might 
 have been enlarged by so mighty a genius, had not 
 Pluto taken alarm at his progress, and presented a 
 memorial to Jupiter, humbly showing, that, if a stop 
 was not put to the career of this officious mortal, peo- 
 ple would soon cease to die, and hell would become 
 a desert ; whereupon Jupiter interposed, and killed 
 the wonder-working doctor with his thunderbolts. 
 
 There is reason to believe, from what has been 
 said, that the cures effected by these medical wor- 
 thies were either inconsiderable and real, or else 
 preternatural and counterfeited. We have addi» 
 tional ground for this belief, on finding that fre- 
 quently, when emergencies occurred opening a fine 
 field for medical practice, the champions of physic 
 were totally idle or inefficient. When a pestilence 
 broke out among the Greeks at the Trojan war, 
 we find them, with all their heroic and priestly 
 medicine, resorting, not to their drugs and prepara- 
 
EARLY mSTOET OP MEDICINE. 279 
 
 tions, not to any regular system of practice, but 
 simply to superstitious prayers, rites, and atone- 
 ments. The Argonauts, with Esculapius at their 
 head, required the aid of a sorceress, before they 
 could administer an opiate to the dragon that 
 watched their fleece. Chiron died of a wound or 
 ulcer in the leg, and Achilles of one in the heel. 
 Such disasters as these last were not to be expected, 
 after what Dr. Miller tells us in his account of 
 Chiron : " So celebrated was he in tradition for 
 the cure of ulcers, as we are informed by Galen, 
 that, when a sore was obstinate and could not be 
 healed up, it was customary in later times to call it 
 a Chironian ulcer; intimating, by the expression, 
 that it was an ailment of such malignity as to baf&e 
 the skill even of Chiron himself." 
 
 Now, we conceive, it was no compliment to the 
 Centaur to name only incurables after him. We 
 also conceive that, between Galen and Dr. Miller, 
 the origin of the term Chironian ulcer may have been 
 mistaken ; and that it may be derived, not from the 
 skill of Chiron in curing malignant ulcers, but from 
 the circumstance of his having languished and died 
 under a malignant ulcer. Galen informs us, on this 
 subject, that of the phagedaena, or eating ulcer, there 
 were different species, called the Chironian and 
 Telephian : " Harum species qusedam sunt, quae 
 Chironia et Telephia dicuntur." In another place 
 he tells us that the Telephian ulcer was so called 
 
280 EARLY HISTOET OF MEDICINE. 
 
 from Teleplius, who was afflicted with it. Now, the 
 case of Chiron was not dissimilar to that of Tele- 
 phus, as both their maladies were occasioned by the 
 wound of a spear ; only Telephus got well, whereas 
 Chiron, after languishing with his lame leg for nine 
 days, either died, or was made into a constellation ; 
 for all which the reader may consult Ovid. Pasto- 
 rum v., 379-414. 
 
 Machaon, the son of Esculapius, when wounded 
 at the siege of Troy, retired with Nestor to his tent, 
 where they took from the hands of a woman a far- 
 rago of onions, cheese, meal, honey, and wine. From 
 Pope's translation of this account in the Iliad, which 
 Dr. M. has quoted, we are led to suppose that this 
 potion was a prescription of the physician himself 
 for his own case. Witness the following lines : — 
 
 " The draught ^escriied fair Hecamede prepares." 
 
 And again, 
 
 " This for the wounded prince the dame prepares." 
 
 Unfortunately, however, there is no sort of authority 
 in the original for the above expressions ; and it ap- 
 pears that Hecamede prepared the draught, probar 
 bly of her own invention, to treat her master Nestor, 
 as well as his guest Machaon, and this, too, for the 
 sole purpose of assuaging their thirst. 
 
 Tolai a Ttvxe nvKeuj ivTrMxafwc 'EKO/aiSri. II. /I. 624. 
 Tib 6' tivel oiv •kIvovt' &ij>eTriv iroTiOKayma iiipav.* 642. 
 
 • The translations of this passage by Cowper and Dacier are correct. 
 Chapman has the same inaccuracy with Fope. 
 
EARLY HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 281 
 
 It is a little remarkable that the learned professor 
 should copy out the whole Greek passage for his 
 book, and overlook such words as mm, Gq)mv, a^\, 
 and TOO ; or imagine them to be meant for Machaon 
 individually. We are much inclined to suspect that 
 he placed undue reliance on the translation, when 
 we find him leaving off his Greek in the middle of 
 a sentence, and observing that " it might be difficult 
 in English poetry to discover a translation more 
 distinguished for a happy mixture of precision and 
 elegance, than the above version of Pope." 
 
 One more of these worthies, and then we have 
 done with "heroic medicine." We presume that 
 the name of Achilles will not yet descend to oblivion, 
 even though our author should fail in his attempts 
 to dub him also a doctor of medicine. Nevertheless, 
 Achilles, it seems, was a pupil of Chiron.. He cured 
 the wound of Telephus with the rust of his spear ; 
 and the plant Achillsea, or yarrow, had the honor to 
 be named after him. But it ought not to be for- 
 gotten, that the circumstance of his pupilage was 
 common to most of the pre-eminent heroes of his 
 time, and that, in the cure of Telephus, he had 
 scarcely any merit. Telephus consulted the oracle, 
 and was told that l\is wound could be healed only 
 by the same spear which had occasioned it. Accord- 
 ingly he applied to Achilles, whose spear had done 
 the mischief, and requested his medical assistance. 
 Achilles at first refused, saying that he was no phy- 
 
282 EARLY fflSTOET OF MEDICINE. 
 
 sician; but afterwards was prevailed on to scrape 
 the rust of his spear into the wound, which, in due 
 time, got well. With regard to the plant Achillaea, 
 we presume its name has as much to do with medi- 
 cine as that of the plant Jeffersonia. 
 
 We now come to consider the second department 
 which Dr. Miller has made in the physic of Greece, 
 namely, his Priestly Medicine. As he has shown 
 that the medicine of heroes was chiefly surgical, he 
 now makes it equally clear that that of priests and 
 conjurers waS mere " practical physic." For this 
 he gives us all the presumptive evidence which can 
 arise from the natural ascendency of priests and 
 wizards over the public mind, and from the analogy 
 of customs in all the barbarous nations iu the 
 world. He gives us, however, only two instances 
 of priest-physicians in Greece, namely, Melampus 
 and Orpheus ; of whom Melampus appears to us to 
 have been only a fortune-hunter, who cured the 
 daughters of Proetus of real or pretended madness, 
 that he might gain the hand of one of his patients, 
 together with her kingdom, in marriage ; while, with 
 regard to Orpheus, there is very little authority for 
 his having practised physic in any particular instance, 
 and his high reputation is suffiiciently supported by 
 the established fact, that 
 
 " Replayed so well, he moved Old Nick." 
 
 On considerations like the foregoing, we are dis- 
 
EAELY HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 283 
 
 posed to ascribe to the ancient Greeks the credit 
 of very little real proficiency in the art of healing. 
 Prom similar motives, we doubt the correctness of 
 Dr. Miller's belief, that Greece was indebted for its 
 first discoveries and improvements in medicine solely 
 to two classes of men, namely, the chiefs or sove- 
 reigns, and the priests or ministers of religion. Un- 
 willing, however, to interfere with the doctor's ardor 
 for classification, we only suggest, for a second edi- 
 tion of his work, the propriety of adding a new 
 class or department in primitive'physic, to be called 
 the department of old women, or of female medi- 
 cine. These early practitioners of physic, we think, 
 he has treated with unmerited neglect ; for we will 
 engage, where he produces one instance in Greece 
 of a priest skilled in medicine, that we will furnish 
 two of females possessing the same accomplishment. 
 It is sufficient now to mention only the names 
 of Circe, Medea, Angitia, Agamede, Helen, and 
 (Enone.* 
 
 The last portion of our author's work embraces 
 the history of medicine in Egypt and the East ; and 
 on this subject our limits compel us to be more 
 brief. The advantages possessed by the Eastern 
 countries over European Greece for the early cul- 
 
 * " In these early ages, all the knowledge of the tribe formed a com- 
 mon stock; and their imperfect arts might be exercised by all those who 
 were endowed with a certain portion of intelligence. Medicine, there- 
 fore, existed before there were any regular physicians." — Cvbanis's Bem- 
 ohilima of Med. Science. 
 
284 EARLY HISTORY OP MEDICINE. 
 
 tivation of science, are said to have been the coali- 
 tion of their inhabitants into large and mighty 
 empires, instead of petty states and communities ; 
 and also the peculiar nature of their ecclesiastical 
 institutions, in which an hereditary priesthood was 
 placed in possession of all the facilities and induce- 
 ments for scientific speculation. The invention of 
 letters, or alphabetic characters, was among them 
 an early auxiliary to the cultivation of the sciences ; 
 and medicine was not the last to profit by so signal 
 ^.n advantage. Some of the earliest lettered pro- 
 ductions contained copious treatises on the healing 
 art as an integrant portion of their contents. 
 
 The very ancient and celebrated.personage Thoth, 
 or, as he is called by Dr. Miller, Tot, and who is 
 the same with Hermes or Mercury of the Greeks, 
 seems to have been the founder of medicine in 
 Egypt. His writings, afterwards held sacred, were 
 divided into forty-two books, six of which treated 
 of medical subjects, namely, one of anatomy, one of 
 diseases, one of instruments, one of medicaments, 
 one of disorders of the eyes, and one of diseases 
 of women. While the higher orders of Egyptian 
 priesthood were employed in the study and execu- 
 tion of religious and philosophical ofi&ces contained 
 in the former books, a second or inferior class were 
 busied in the study and practice of healing. The 
 Pastophori — for so the cultivators of physic were 
 called — were bound to make themselves intimately 
 
EARLY HISTORY OP MEDICINE, 285 
 
 acquainted with the medical scriptures of Thoth; 
 and, so long as their practice was strictly conform- 
 ahle to these, no blame was incurred by them. On 
 the contrary, if any practitioner ventured to deviate 
 in the least from these sacred rules, he became 
 responsible with his own life for the safety of his 
 patient. This circumstance must have furnished 
 a powerful check to improvement, and kept the 
 science of medicine long in a state altogether sta- 
 tionary. 
 
 Of the other peculiarities in Egyptian practice, 
 the following are among the most remarkable : The 
 art was made altogether hereditary, so that "he 
 who was born a physician was prohibited equally by 
 Heaven and by law from abandoning the occupation 
 of his ancestors." The profession was also subdi- 
 vided into minute departments, so that each par- 
 ticular disease had a separate healer. Some took 
 charge of disorders of the eyes, some of the head, 
 some of the teeth, some of the abdomen, &c. The 
 vast number of individuals who were engaged in 
 some branch of medical practice led to the assertion 
 of Homer and Herodotus, that in Egypt every man 
 met with was a physician. 
 
 What were the particular modes of practice en- 
 joined by Thoth it is impossible now to know ; for 
 the books of the Pastophori have long since been 
 lost. Dr. Miller, however, has industriously at- 
 tempted to glean whatever authorities were afforded 
 
286 BAELT HISTORY OF MEDICINE. 
 
 respecting them, from their successors in art and 
 science, the Greeks. He has told us, that the Pas- 
 tophori, and even the kings, were wont to immolate 
 and dissect beasts and human victims, but with 
 what proficiency in anatomy it is not known. In 
 the science of diseases they appear to have had 
 some idea of critical days, to have divided disorders 
 into acute and chronic, and to have ascribed their 
 pestilential distempers to a morbific principle in the 
 air. In the Materia Medica, they seem to have 
 been acquainted with many efficacious articles, to- 
 gether with their most useful forms of composition. 
 Having now run through the contents of this 
 volume, we would observe that, in general, it is far 
 from being an uninteresting production. The ex- 
 tent of the author's researches, and the ingenuity 
 of his deductions, will afford some novelty and 
 instruction to most readers. His predominant 
 fault is a disposition to annex an undue conse- 
 qiience to circumstances which are doubtful or 
 unimportant. " We think he might profit by the 
 observation of Oabanis, that, in a subject where 
 materials to compensate inquiry are wanting, " the 
 friends of truth should not lose their time in form- 
 ing vain conjectures, however learned they may 
 happen to be." 
 
WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGIOUS * 
 
 Within the present century, cholera,, a disease indi- 
 genous in hot climates of the East, has, at vari- 
 ous intervals, made its appearance in the temperate 
 latitudes of Europe and America. It is now again 
 exciting interest, from its possible and perhaps prob- 
 able approach to this country. 
 
 The experience of the last thirty or forty years 
 has led a majority of medical men who had ob- 
 served the disease to believe, that, as a general law, 
 it is not contagious. In this belief I must individ- 
 ually remain, until evidence more satisfactory than 
 any which has yet appeared shall justify an opposite 
 conviction. 
 
 The great epidemics of 18-30 and 1847 had a 
 remarkable coincidence in the path which they pur- 
 sued, and in the order and dates of their arrival in 
 diflferent cities. They seem to have followed cer- 
 tain ^eat routes of travel, and to have avoided 
 others equally frequented. According to Les^gue, 
 they both visited consecutively, and in correspond- 
 
 * From the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, March 1, 1866. 
 
 [287] 
 
288 WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGIOUS. 
 
 ing months, Tiflis, A.strachan, Moscow, Petersburg, 
 and Berlin. In 1831, cholera did not take the most 
 frequented route from Berlin to Paris, but passed 
 along the shores of the Baltic, crossed over to 
 Sunderland, went down to London, and again 
 crossed the channel and arrived in Paris about six 
 months after its appearance at Berlin. A disease 
 propagated by contagion of any kind would hardly 
 have avoided the most frequented thoroughfares 
 from' Berlin to Paris, while it occupied half a year 
 in going round by England. 
 
 The epidemic now or lately prevailing in Europe 
 appears to date back at least nine months, at which 
 time it existed among the caravans of pilgrims vis- 
 iting or returning from the city of Mecca. In the 
 middle of May last, it was at Alexandria and Cairo ; 
 in June at Constantinople, Ancona, and Marseilles ; 
 and in November at Paris, Havre, and other Euro- 
 pean cities. 
 
 Thus it appears that cholera has now existed in 
 Europe from three to eight months, among cities 
 having constant commercial intercourse with sea- 
 ports of the United States, during which time 
 thousands of passengers, and tens of thousands of 
 bales and packages, have been landed in our mari- 
 time cities. If cholera were as contagious or port- 
 able as many believe it to be, it ought to have 
 begun and perhaps finished its work in many of 
 our seaports before this time. 
 
WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGIOUS. 289 
 
 Epidemics require two things for their introduc- 
 tion and extension. These are, first, predisposition 
 in the inhabitants of the place visited ; and, second, 
 the arrival or presence of an exciting cause. This 
 cause in some epidemics, such as small-pox, is con- 
 tagion. In others it is an occult influence, not yet 
 discovered nor understood, nor known to be con- 
 trolled, except in some instances, by hygienic agen- 
 cies. No country, I believe, has succeeded in 
 keeping out cholera by quarantines ; and no country, 
 as far as we know, can produce it artificially, or re- 
 tain it after the predisposition has disappeared. In 
 its own time, it moves on thoroughfares where men 
 are travelling, and spreads in cities where they are 
 stationary, for no better known reason than that 
 mankind are its necessary food, and that, where 
 there are no people, there can be no cholera. But 
 why, of two frequented roads or cities, it selects 
 one and avoids the other, investigators have not yet 
 been able to satisfy us. 
 
 The credit of having introduced the present epi- 
 demic into Europe is, by a sort of popular accla- 
 mation, assigned to the hosts of squalid devotees 
 who perform an annual pilgrimage to Mecca. Yet 
 we are told that " the cholera exists every year 
 among the caravans of Mussulmans arriving at the 
 holy cities," so that their supposed mission of for- 
 warding the cholera to Europe in most years fails 
 
 to be performed. 
 
 19 
 
290 WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGIOUS. 
 
 Cholera, like influenza and some other migratory 
 diseases, has usually, but not always, advanced from 
 east to west. Of the vehicle in which it travels, 
 or the course it is next to take, we know about as 
 much as mankind knew of the cause of lightning 
 before the discovery of electricity. Its conveyance 
 and propagation have been ascribed to air, to water, 
 to material foci, to electricity, to ozone or to the 
 want of it. Of late, in consequence of the vast 
 development by the microscope of the existence 
 everywhere of minute living organisms, it has 
 become more common to ascribe the arrival of 
 this and other like epidemics to certain unseen 
 •" germs " which are called seeds or ova, crypto- 
 gamic or animalcular, according as the fancy of 
 the theorist inclines him to adopt a vegetable or an 
 animal nomenclature. 
 
 But in this, as in many other cases, it is easier 
 to trace an analogy, or to -assume a cause, than it is 
 to prevent an effect. Although inquirers have been 
 indefatigable in their attempts to enlighten the 
 world on the means of ridding ourselves of the 
 presence of the various offensive cotenants of our 
 globe, yet no crusade has yet succeeded in banish- 
 ing from our fields and houses the unwelcome 
 swarms of mosquitos, worms, grubs, and flies, 
 which molest us with their annual presence ; nor in 
 suppressing the blight of grain, the potato-r.ot, or 
 the peach-tree disease. Happily, some if not most 
 
WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGflOUS. 291 
 
 of these have their periods of abatement or disap- 
 pearance, and this rather through the order of 
 Providence than the agency of man. Cholera 
 seems to abide in the same category. We know 
 little of its exciting cause, and not much of its pre- 
 vention ; except that,_ by following in our personal 
 habits the dictates of reason and experience, we 
 diminish both the frequency and danger of its 
 occurrence. 
 
 Whatever may be the cause or vehicle of cholera, 
 credulous and excitable persons are impatient of 
 suspense, and are prone to cut a knot which they 
 fail to untie. When an epidemic disease first ap- 
 pears, some coincidence is always brought to light 
 which is supposed capable of accounting for it. 
 The arrival of a ship, the opening of a trunk, or 
 the washing of a garment, are among the most 
 frequently accepted causes. But, as these events 
 have happened a thousand times before, and appar- 
 ently under like circumstances, without any known 
 results, it has been thought necessary by some of 
 our later writers to narrow the compass of actual 
 exposure down to the reception of the morbid ex- 
 cretions of one individual into the digestive canal 
 of another. The first impression made by this 
 anouncement must, if true, be one of relief, the 
 danger not seeming likely to happen very often. 
 But to the possibility of such danger we can never 
 oppose an absolute negative, so long as we persist 
 
292 WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGIOUS. 
 
 in eating smelts and flounders caught about the 
 mouths of our drains, or even turnips, salads, and 
 strawberries raised at Brighton. The risk, how- 
 CTer, is so small, that most persons will prefer to 
 take it, rather than to deprive themselves of food 
 or luxuries. 
 
 A great part of the logic which has been used to 
 prove the contagiousness of cholera might equally 
 well be applied to prove that gun-shot wounds are 
 contagious. The part of a battle-field in which 
 men are falling fastest is the most dangerous for 
 survivors to frequent. Secondary cases are almost 
 sure to follow primary ones. Men who inhale the 
 breath, or are sprinkled with the blood, of their 
 wounded comrades, are much more liable to get the 
 prevailing disease than those who remain quietly 
 at home. 
 
 Of the many sensation tales printed and re- 
 printed about cholera, and the supposed instances 
 of remarkable communication or arrestation, it is 
 sufficient to say that they are frequently interest- 
 ing, being fully as dramatic as they are probable. 
 
 In the same regard we cannot help noticing, that 
 credulity, and perhaps private cupidity, have caused 
 much stress to be laid on the supposed preventive 
 efficacy of what are called " disinfectants ; " a mys- 
 terious word, which implies a thing assumed but 
 not proved to exist. We have deodorizers, such as 
 chlorine, charcoal, &c., which, by their combinar 
 
WHETHER CHOLERA IS CONTAGIOUS. 293 
 
 tions, render certain effluvia imperceptible to our 
 senses. But that these are not disinfectants, there 
 is most abundant evidence. The narrative, then, 
 of the physician at Malta, who covered certain sur- 
 faces in vessels with oil, and had them " disinfected 
 by chlorine gas," after which " no new cases oc- 
 curred," is to be classed with other like results, 
 with which the medical press always abounds at the 
 close of epidemics. 
 
 In clean and well-regulated cities of temperate 
 climates, cholera is far from being the most formi- 
 dable of epidemics. A greater part of its victims 
 are the miserably poor, the worn out, the ill pro- 
 vided, and the intemperate, in whom this disease 
 only anticipates the date, but does not greatly 
 increase the annual or biennial number, of deaths. 
 Its mortality in our northern Atlantic cities rarely 
 amounts to one per cent of the population in a 
 given place or year; so that a man may reside 
 through an epidemic in one of these cities with less 
 risk than he can take a pleasure voyage to Europe. 
 After having witnessed many cases of cholera in 
 this and other cities, I am farther satisfied that it 
 affords one of the easiest modes of exit from the 
 world. 
 
 People who would avoid or prevent cholera 
 should cultivate equanimity, regularity of life and 
 habits, cleanliness, salubrious exercise, temperance, 
 and avoidance of all excesses. When they have 
 
294 WHETHER CHOLEBA IS CONTAGIOUS. 
 
 done their duty in providing for the care of the 
 sick, allaying public panics, and abating public nui' 
 sances, they may safely dismiss their apprehen- 
 sions. Little good and some harm is always done 
 by the indiscreet agitation of a subject which is to 
 a great extent beyond our control. A single or 
 sporadic case of cholera occurring in a village of 
 a thousand inhabitants may attract little notice, 
 and perhaps pass without record ; but a hundred 
 cases in a city of a hundred thousand inhabitants 
 make an aggregate which generally causes some 
 panic, though the proportion is exactly the same, 
 and the panic equally unnecessary. It is possible 
 that the supposed immunity of country districts in 
 comparison with cities may be accounted for by 
 the fact, that, in the sparse population of country 
 towns, cases are less liable to be detected and pub- 
 lished. 
 
 I may be excused for repeating the following 
 remark from among some " Aphorisms " published 
 by me about thirty years ago, when the disease was 
 new and little known among us. " Should the 
 cholera continue to prevail for three years through- 
 out this continent, it would cease to interrupt either 
 business or recreation. Mankind cannot always 
 stand aghast ; and the wheels of society at length 
 would be no more impeded by its presence than 
 they now are by the existence of consumption, of 
 old age, or of drunkenness." 
 
TESTIMONY- ON THE CATTLE DISEASE IN 
 MASSACHUSETTS.* 
 
 During the prevalence of a disease called Pleuro- 
 pneumonia, among cattle, in 1859, many animals 
 were slaughtered at the expense of the State, from 
 fear of contagion. A Committee of the Legislature 
 collected the testimony of various witnesses as to 
 the expediency of further continuing the slaughter. 
 The result was, that no more cattle were killed, and 
 the disease disappeared spontaneously. This disease 
 was quite different from the Rhinder-pest of Europe, 
 lately prevalent in that quarter of the glohe. 
 
 Dr. Jacob Bigelow called. 
 
 Mr. Andrew. Have you given to this subject of 
 malignant pleuro-pneumonia, — by whatever name 
 it might be called, — in neat cattle, any special at- 
 tention of your own, outside of that which you have 
 given as an auditor of this testimony ? 
 
 A. I have no experimental knowledge on this 
 subject, having never seen a case of the present 
 epidemic. But I have seen something of former 
 
 • Legislative Documents, 1859. 
 
 [295] 
 
296 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 epidemics, among men and cattle. I have attended 
 to a part of the testimony, whicli I have happened to 
 hear, and have read some other things in the news- 
 papers and elsewhere. 
 
 Q. Be kind enough to give the Committee the 
 result of your reflections upon the subject. 
 
 A. I have bestowed some thought upon the sub- 
 ject, and have arrived at the general conclusion, 
 that, although the investigation now going on has 
 elicited many useful facts in regard to the disease, 
 yet the most important points to be learned are not 
 yet arrived at. There are certain fundamental con- 
 siderations which should govern any investigation of 
 this sort, and which I believe remain yet to be settled. 
 And one of the first and most important of 'these is 
 the great question of the contagiousness of the dis- 
 ease. I am aware that most of the world are now 
 reported as believing that the disease is contagious ; 
 and I am aware that most of those who have started 
 on the present inquiry, and most of the witnesses 
 whom I have had the pleasure to hear, have begun, 
 not so much an inquiry whether the disease is con- 
 tagious, as with the foregone conclusion that it is 
 contagious. Some gentlemen, I do recollect, stated 
 that they began with an unbiassed mind, and have 
 gone on with their inquiry until they have arrived at 
 the conviction that this disease is contagious. But I 
 find, from the course that the investigations have 
 generally taken, that the inquirers have started by 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 297 
 
 taking it for granted that the disease is contagious. 
 And as the weight of arguments, and of supposed 
 proofs, has hitherto heen on the side of contagion, 
 I will, without committing myself to any opinion, — 
 for I do not know any more than any gentleman 
 here knows, as to whether the disease is conta- 
 gious or not, — venture to suggest a few inquiries, 
 which may be put for what they are worth, in the 
 opposite scale to that of the contagion of the dis- 
 ease. 
 
 In the first place, the inquiry, in regard to the 
 new outbreaks of the disease, has generally been, to 
 trace what I may perhaps be allowed to call its pedi- 
 gree, to ask where it came from, and not to inquire 
 into the previous and more important question, 
 whether it came at all, — in other words, whether it 
 did not spring up and originate on the spot. Now, 
 we well know that epidemics, and among them some 
 of the most formidable, the most extensive, and 
 most deadly epidemics, are not contagious at all. 
 Contagious diseases are those which are communi- 
 cable from one individual to another. Non-conta- 
 gious epidemics are those which are communicated 
 to a large number of individuals, either simultane- 
 ously or consecutively, from some cause, irrespec- 
 tively of each other. To make this plain, I will 
 suppose that* one or several wells in a place have 
 been poisoned. The people who drink the water of 
 those wells wiU be sick ; but they do not make each 
 
298 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 other sick, nor will they make others sick by com- 
 municating the poison to them. Now I conceive 
 there are some reasons which may go toward show- 
 ing, that this disease, supposed to be communicated 
 by importation from other countries, is not so com- 
 municated in reality. The inquiry seems to me to 
 have been, thus far, a one-sided inquiry. Investiga- 
 tions have been made, and facts noted, in regard to 
 the few animals that have been imported, and which 
 have been taken sick in this country afterwards, and 
 happened to be, or were, among the first cases. But 
 in the same inquiry a multitude of other cases have 
 been overlooked and ignored. Cattle have been im- 
 ported from the most infected countries in Europe, 
 and have brought with them no disease whatever. 
 I am not in possession of statistics to enable me to 
 say how many cattle are imported into the United 
 States. I do not know whether, in a year, there are 
 hundreds or thousands, but I presume the number 
 is very large ; yet, of the number which come from 
 England or Holland, and other infected countries, 
 the proportion of cattle which remain healthy is 
 immeasurably greater than of those which become 
 diseased. The disease, we are told, now exists all 
 over the world, in every quarter of the globe. And 
 among the cases existing there must have been first 
 cases ; for, even if the disease be contagious, it 
 must have had a beginning, — it must have sprung 
 up in England, in Holland, Germany, or some- 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 299 
 
 where. And if it may spring up once spontaneously, 
 why may it not spring up twice, or a dozen times ? 
 And why may it not spring up in Belmont, or in 
 Brookfield, as well as in any other now infected part 
 of the globe ? 
 
 In times of popular panic, all widely spread epi- 
 demics are believed, by the populace at large, to be 
 contagious. This has been the case in regard to 
 cholera in modern times, in regard to leprosy in old 
 times, in regard to certain pestilential fevers in va- 
 rious times. And the public have acted upon this 
 persuasion, S,nd sick individuals have been avoided, 
 neglected, and fled from, as prolific fountains of 
 contagious disease. And yet these epidemics are 
 now known and admitted, by the intelligent part of 
 the medical profession, to be not contagious. 
 
 Two things are necessary to the spreading even of 
 a contagious disease. One of these is the presence 
 of contagion ; and the other is the presence of what 
 physicians call predisposition, or susceptibility on 
 the part of the community, to take the disease. 
 And unless both these conditions are present, the 
 disease cannot spread. The most contagious dis- 
 eases with which we are acquainted, ^- for example, 
 small-pox and measles, — are always present in all 
 large cities. And they do not extend so as to be con- 
 sidered in the character of epidemics, except once 
 in a certain number of years ; and the reason that 
 they do not thus spread at one time as well as 
 
300 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 another, is that the predisposition to take the dis- 
 ease is wanting. 
 
 Every epidemic disease has its rise and climax 
 and decline, after which it goes out for the time, and 
 becomes matter of history. And such, I presume, 
 will one day be the case with the cattle disease now 
 prevailing here. This is the fact in regard to the 
 epidemic prevalence of cholera, of influenza, of the 
 murrain among cattle, and the rot among sheep. 
 They all have their rise, climax, and decline ; and, 
 after the susceptible individuals have had them, and 
 died or got well, they then go out for want of fuel, 
 precisely as a conflagration in a city sometimes goes 
 out after it has burnt up the wooden houses, leaving 
 the brick houses standing. As to the epidemic dis- 
 eases which are not contagious, such as the cholera 
 and influenza, as I have just mentioned, they travel 
 across continents and across oceans, in some vehicle 
 with "which we are not acquainted, and of which 
 mankind now know as little as they did of the cause 
 of lightning and thunder before the discovery of 
 electricity. Perhaps this cause will one day be dis- 
 covered. All I have now to say is, that, to my 
 knowledge, it has not been discovered. 
 
 It seems to me, that the question of the conta- 
 giousness of this disease, which is all-important, 
 for it certainly lies at the foundation of all useful 
 practice, and of the great question connected with 
 the arresting of the disease,— ^ it seems to me that 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 301 
 
 the question of contagiousness may be tested by an 
 experiment of the following kind. Not by collect- 
 ing public rumors, and sudden impressions or con- 
 victions of credulous individuals, but by taking a 
 certain number — say, ten or twenty — of healthy 
 cattle, placing them in a healthy district, and then 
 turning in among them a certain number of diseased 
 cattle. That will lead, I think, to a useful result. 
 If the exposed cattle shall all take the disease, and 
 die of it, we may then infer that the epidemic is 
 contagious, and deadly in its character. If, on the 
 contrary, it shall turn out that none of them get the 
 disease, then we shall be justified in drawing exactly 
 the opposite conclusion. And, lastly, if a part of 
 them shall get the disease, and the rest shall not, 
 we shall have a gauge and index, by which we may 
 judge of the average risk and danger of the disease. 
 And if it turns out that only ten per cent of the 
 exposed cattle shall get the disease, surely we have 
 no reason to kill off twenty per cent, for fear they 
 should get or give it. 
 
 I do not think of any other suggestions at pres- 
 ent to make, but shall be happy to answer any ques- 
 tions which gentlemen may propose. 
 
 I will merely state, in regard to the management 
 and treatment of this epidemic, which I think has 
 got to go out by and by, as its predecessors have 
 done, — so far as I can learn, that the question 
 at issue is as to the propriety of slaughtering the 
 
302 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 infected and suspected individuals among the cattle 
 of the Commonwealth at large. I have not made 
 up my mind in favor of the propriety of this meas- 
 ure. No doubt, if all the cattle in the State are 
 slaughtered, the disease will stop for a time. But, 
 as we must have beef, and must have milk, we shall 
 immediately go to importing other cattle ; and then, 
 if contagious, we may get the disease again, as w;e 
 got it before. And, moreover, if it should turn out 
 that half the cattle in the State are slaughtered, and 
 only the remaining moiety left, I should not con- 
 sider, even if ihe disease should then stop, that it 
 was proved to be contagious : for, in the first place, 
 the remaining cattle might still get a similar disease 
 from an epidemic cause, such as I have already stat- 
 ed, independent of contagion ; and, lastly, if it did 
 stop, I should not infer that, necessarily, the result 
 had any thing to do with the supposed cause. If 
 I were to state an instance in illustration of this 
 point, I would say, that in the dark ages, when men 
 were ignorant and credulous, they attempted to 
 arrest epidemics, by hanging Jews and burning 
 witches ; and, if this practice did not prove effectual 
 in stopping the disease, they proceeded to execute 
 more Jews and witches, until it did stop. But I 
 believe it does not follow, and would not in the mind 
 of any reasonable man now-a-days follow, that these 
 two events stood to each other in the relation of 
 cause and effect. 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 303 
 
 Q. Have you ever seen, yourself, either now or 
 at previous times, any cause of disease in animals, 
 corresponding to this malignant pleuro-pneumonia ? 
 
 A. I have seen cases of disease in animals, and 
 sometimes where the disease was prevalent among 
 the animals of a great farm. I have known herds 
 of cattle to have numbers affected, and droves of 
 swine also ; but I have never made a study of such 
 disease, inasmuch as it never has prevailed, within 
 my knowledge, to such an extent as to excite par- 
 ticular curiosity in regard to a minute examination 
 of its symptoms and anatomical character. 
 
 Q. Then are you able to say. Doctor, whether 
 these symptoms of disease, both in the living and 
 dead subject, which have been disclosed in the testi- 
 mony, are new to New England, or not ? 
 
 A. I am not able to say. I have .no knowledge 
 on that subject. What are called sporadic cases, 
 single cases, may have occurred, for all that I know, 
 for all time. But they have not been subjected to a 
 systemlatic examination so as to identify them, and 
 to know whether they are the same or different. 
 
 Q. Have you examined the accounts of this mar 
 lignant disease, as it has appeared in England and on 
 the Continent ? 
 
 A. I have not. 
 
 Q. Are you able to pass an opinion as to this 
 question, — whether the facts thus far disclosed from 
 the examination made here in Massachusetts are 
 
304 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 numerous or exact enough to enable any one to draw 
 a satisfactory inference as to the real character of 
 the disease, touching its contagiousness or infec- 
 tiousness ? 
 
 A. They have been numerous enough to justify 
 one in drawing inferences in regard to its pathologi- 
 cal character; that is, in regard to its symptoms 
 and morbid appearances after death. As to its con- 
 tagiousness, I have already stated that I do not think 
 the observations sufficiently extensive. 
 
 Q. Can you give the Committee any opinions 
 which would be needful to them touching the probor 
 bility of this disease, — whatever it may be, — being 
 liable to substantial reduction by medical treatment. 
 I am aware this is entirely outside of your practice, 
 — but as a student of natural science generally? 
 
 A. I thinlj; that, like other epidemics^, it could 
 be alleviated, palliated, and rendered more safe, by 
 what I should call a natural, salutary treatment; 
 but I know of no very violent or heroic measures 
 that would be likely to arrest or lessen its intensity 
 or extent. 
 
 Q. To make a practical application, I will sup- 
 pose a case. Supposing that the disease itself is a 
 contagion, and supposing the contagion to be present 
 in a herd of thirty cattle, so long that you know all 
 of those cattle to have been subjected to the possi- 
 ble influences of the contagion. You would infer, 
 I suppose, as to some percentage of that thing, that 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 305 
 
 the susceptibility of the contagion was also present. 
 Then what would be your advice to the proprietor of 
 the thirty cattle as to what he should do with all 
 of them, before there has been any appearance of 
 active disease in any one of them ? And then, in the 
 next place, what would you advise to be done for 
 those who began to manifest symptoms ? 
 
 A. I should pursue the same course, if it were 
 practicable, with cattle, that I should pursue with 
 men, or that men would pursue in regard to tliem- 
 selves. I would remove, if possible, those that had 
 been exposed, to a healthy district. I am not sure 
 that this would be practicable, in view of the sup- 
 posed conflicting interests of the owners of the cat- 
 tle and their neighbors. I do know that if a man 
 is in Norfolk or New Orleans when tlie yellow fever 
 breaks out, he comes, if he can, to Boston or some 
 other healthy district. So a man who resides in a 
 fever-and-ague district, if he has got the disease, or 
 expects to get it immediately, leaves the place, and 
 goes into a non-malarious .country, a country where 
 he is not subject to the influence which brought it 
 on where he was. 
 
 Q. That would not apply to contagious diseases 
 like measles or smallpox. Suppose that this disease 
 is contagious in animals, as measles or smallpox are 
 in men, and a man's herd had been subjected to 
 contact with diseased animals, so that, if a suscep- 
 tibility was present in the herd, the inference would 
 
 20 
 
306 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 naturally follow that some of them would be sick, — 
 is there any course of treatment which would seem 
 to you to be wiser, so far as you know, than any 
 other? 
 
 A. The first course would be to get the animals 
 into another locality. If that coivld not be done, I 
 should put them in some situation where they would 
 enjoy free air. I should keep them upon a very 
 moderate diet, such as would neither overfeed nor 
 underfeed them, and I should let them take their 
 chance. I do not know of any medication which 
 would be relied on to stop the progress of individual 
 cases. 
 
 Q. What should you think of the slaughter of 
 all of them, on the ground that they had been sub- 
 jected to disease ? 
 
 A. I should infer that there would be no case of 
 the disease left, if they were all slaughtered. But it 
 would do no certain good to wait until some were 
 taken sick, and then slaughter them. 
 
 Q. There is then no medium ground, if you 
 adopt any system of killing, between where you begin 
 and where you stop, until you have killed all ? 
 
 A. I cannot give positive information on that 
 point. My presumption is, that it would be a very 
 difficult thing to carry a middle course into profitable 
 execution ; because most contagious diseases are con- 
 tagious from beginning to end, and to slaughter an 
 animal affected with disease, after the actual symp- 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 307 
 
 toms of that disease have shown themselves, is to 
 shut the door after the steed is stolen, — premising 
 that the disease is contagious. 
 
 Q. Suppose the disease is contagious, the only 
 logically consistent system would be to slaughter 
 every animal which had been possibly exposed to 
 the contagion, — would it not ? 
 
 A. If that theory is adopted as a rule of prac- 
 tice, I should say that, to be thorough, the only way 
 is to kill all animals showing symptoms of disease, 
 and all which by exposure had become candidates 
 for it. 
 
 Q. Whether you have any means of forming an 
 opinion as to the probable effect of isolation ,' sup- 
 posing you draw a cordon around a certain space, 
 called an infected district, — whether it is reasonable, 
 that, keeping up non-intercourse between animals 
 outside and inside, the contagion could be stopped, 
 — assuming it to be contagion ? 
 
 A. I think it would have a good effect. It would 
 satisfy the requirement of public opinion. I do not' 
 know of any way of isolating cattle so as to keep 
 them from some communication. An infected herd 
 may be shut up from danger ; but, as the disease may 
 appear in other places, I do not know how the legis- 
 lation of one town can produce a non-intercourse 
 with another town or State. Suppose, for example, 
 that Massachusetts should pass laws as stringent^ as 
 possible, to cut off all intercourse between the cattle 
 
308 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 of this State and those of Rhode Island and Connec- 
 ticut, what is to hinder the cattle from going to the 
 boundary fence, and putting Hbeix noses together ? 
 
 Q. Suppose you made a neutral line ? 
 
 A. That may be done if you produce the co-op- 
 eration of other States ; and I think that would be 
 very satisfactory to public opinion. 
 
 Q. Don't you think it worth while, now we have 
 got this disease among us, to ascertain whether it be 
 curable or not ? 
 
 A. By all means. 
 
 Q. Would you advise that as a medical man ? 
 
 A. I would advise, as a medical man, that squads 
 or small herds of cattle should be made the subjects 
 of different experimental treatment; that half a 
 dozen be treated in one method, and half a dozen in 
 another method, and another half dozen in a third 
 method ; amd that the result be observed. 
 
 Q. Tou think it would be advisable to have a 
 commission appointed for the purpose of making this 
 investigation or inquiry ? 
 
 A. I should think it might result in very useful 
 information, provided it is made by individuals 
 qualiiied to judge, and of impartial character, so 
 •that their minds :might not he settled upon any thing 
 beforehand. 
 
 Q. How, in your opinion, is this disease oommu- 
 iffiicated to the animal ? through the blood or directly 
 from the lungs ? 
 
m MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 A, That I am wholly unable to say. I have 
 formed no opinion upon it. If it is a contagious 
 disease, it is conveyed by something received from 
 the cattle: if it is not a contagious disease, it is 
 produced by some morbific influences derived from 
 elsewhere. What part it invades first is of second- 
 ary consequence. 
 
 Q. Suppose it to be in the air, what part of the 
 animal would be likely to be first affected, — the 
 blood or the tissues? 
 
 A. That I am utterly unable to answer. Nobody 
 knows. It is easy to answer questions on conjecture. 
 If you produce proof, the answer would be on a 
 very diflFerent groimd. 
 
 Dr. LoEiNG. Doctor, if you had two herds of 
 cattle, consisting of ten each, and they were half a 
 mile apart; and, to improve your stock, you pur- 
 chased during the last year a creature of Mr. Ohen- 
 ery, and that creature should have become sick in the 
 herd with which you herded it, and you soon found 
 that the rest of that herd were becoming sick, — 
 would you remove these sick ones to your well herd 
 half a mile ofi", to give them a chance to recover ? 
 
 A. Considering the question of contagion still 
 open and unsettled, I might, as a precautionary 
 measure, to cover a possible risk, make such re- 
 moval. If it were a matter of indifference or mere 
 curiosity, I do not know that I would. 
 
 Q. Have you heard the testimony relative to the 
 
310 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 sale of calves by Mr. Ohenery, and their removal to 
 Brookfield ? 
 
 A. I have heard something about it. 
 
 Q. I mean the testimony, that in every case the 
 disease has been traced to one origin. On the sup- 
 position that you can confide in that testimony, 
 would you call it epidemic or contagious ? 
 
 A. I should suspend my opinion until I got fur- 
 ther evidence; knowing that cholera and yellow 
 fever, and many other epidemics not known to be 
 contagious, were traced with as much minuteness 
 and exactitude from family to family, and from man 
 to man, as these cases of the cattle now are. 
 
 Q. Is that so, — that epidemics are traced ? Do 
 they not rise with exposure ? 
 
 A. Some epidemics do, and some do not. 
 
 Q. Is it not the common history of epidemics, 
 that they rise irrespective of connection with the 
 disease. 
 
 A. Smallpox is an epidemic supposed to be 
 communicated only by contagion. Cholera is an 
 epidemic communicated by other causes than conta- 
 gion. 
 
 Q. I understood you to make that distinction, — 
 that epidemic diseases originated from other diseases 
 aside from contact. 
 
 A. The term epidemic is a general term, includ- 
 ing both contagious and non-contagious diseases. 
 Epidemics are diseases that spread over a whole 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 311 
 
 community. One class is contagious, and another 
 class is not contagious. 
 
 Q. Can there he any more conclusive evidence 
 that a disease extending over quite an extent of 
 territory originated in contagion, these being traced 
 distinctly to one origin in every case ? 
 
 A. No better than to subject it to a new and de- 
 cisive experiment, such as I have suggested, to see 
 whether the converse of the rule will operate or 
 not. 
 
 Q. If you find that calves from the same herd 
 are sent in other directions, and the disease is not 
 communicated ? 
 
 A. I should entertain the same views, and want 
 more evidence. 
 
 Q. If twelve well cattle should be placed with 
 twelve diseased ones in a healthy location, and all 
 the well ones should take the disease, would it be 
 proof that the disease was contagious ? 
 
 A. As I have already said, I should think it 
 strong presumptive proof. There are two things 
 necessary to prove a contagious affection: one is 
 the existence of contagion, and the other is that the 
 animals were so susceptible as to take it. 
 
 Q. I suppose these animals were susceptible, and 
 did not take it, — would that prove it was not a con- 
 tagious disease ? 
 
 A. We cannot tell in advance whether they are 
 susceptible ; but, if we could, such facts on either 
 
312 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 side ■would be strong presumptive evidence of the 
 contagion or non-contagion of the disease. 
 
 Q. You think, Dr. Bigelo-w, that this question of 
 contagion is entirely open ? 
 
 A. I am aware that the preponderating opinion 
 of the world seems to be in favor of the contagion ; 
 but; to my mind, this opinion does not prove the con- 
 tagion any more than that multitudes of prevalent 
 erroneous doctrines may be considered as proved. 
 
 Q. I suppose, in modern times, — especially in 
 our enlightened community, — it is not deemed ne- 
 cessary, in scientific investigation, to set aside all the 
 testimony of creditable witnesses, is it ? 
 
 A. Not to set it aside, but to give it all the ex- 
 amination it deserves ; and, whether it comes from 
 One or a hundred persons, I should say that every 
 man has a right to form his own opinion from the 
 intrinsic merits of the case itself^ 
 
 Q. Well, when you say there have been panics 
 and superstitions in regard to epidemics, originating 
 in former times, you don't mean that the intellectual 
 condition of mankind is the same, and that disease 
 is less understood than it was then ? 
 
 A. As a general fact, the intellectual condition 
 of mankind and their information are improved, and 
 disease is in some respects better understood ; but in 
 others, I am sorry to say, it is not better understood. 
 
 Q. I suppose, that, if this disease has prevailed 
 for a great number of years, and been submitted to 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 313 
 
 scientific investigaiion, as far as science can apply 
 to the diseases of animals, the testimony of those 
 who have investigated it would be considered worthy 
 of considerable weight ? 
 
 A. It is, of course, worthy of receiving a certain 
 amount of candid attention ; but it is well known 
 that there is as much error in medical science as 
 there is in theological or political science. A great 
 deal of it is matter of opinion, and not of positive, 
 demonstrable fact. 
 
 Q. I suppose you are aware that some very in- 
 teresting experiments in certain parts of Europe, in 
 regard to the contagious character of this disease, 
 were made by scientific persons there, somewhat 
 analogous to the proposition made by yourself, with 
 regard to shutting up diseased animals in healthy 
 places ? 
 
 A. I am not acquainted with satisfactory experi- 
 ments made in any part of the world. If the ex- 
 periments have been made which I suggested, I 
 should take the result of it as leading to pretty 
 strong presumptive proof. 
 
 Mr. BiED. Nothing of the kind has been proved 
 here, however. 
 
 Dr. LoEiNG. I am simply endeavoring to ascer- 
 tain what scientific experiments have beefl made 
 anywhere. 
 
 Mr. BiED. I do not think, Mr. Chairman, it is 
 
314 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 fair for any one to bring in knowledge which he may 
 have of matters elsewhere : they are not before the 
 Committee. 
 
 Dr. LoEiNG. In speaking of this question of con- 
 tagiousness, Doctor, you suggested that there were 
 importations constantly to this country, and that it 
 was very extraordinary that cases of this disease 
 should be so rare under those circumstances. I 
 suppose you are aware that the number of cattle im- 
 ported from Holland to this country is small, — that 
 the Dutch animal is not a favorite of American im- 
 porters ? 
 
 A. I stated that I am not in possession of sta- 
 tistical facts, to enable me to say how many animals 
 are imported from one country or another. But, 
 since I came into this room, I have asked the opin- 
 ion of half a dozen gentlemen supposed to have, and 
 whom I found to have, more or less knowledge of 
 the amount and the number of cattle introduced, by 
 importation ; and I have found that they all of them 
 seemed to express an opinion that the number was 
 quite large, and that they were imported from vari- 
 ous countries ; I do not know how many from one 
 country or another. But I understand that the dis- 
 ease has existed in all quarters of the globe, and all 
 countries, froiA here to the antipodes, although I did 
 not take the trouble to single out any particular 
 country from the rest. 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 315 
 
 Dr. LoEiNG. Some interesting facts might be 
 given as to the importation of cattle into this coun- 
 try, showing that the cattle ■which are favorites with 
 breeders and importers seldom come from infected 
 districts. 
 
 [To Dr. Bigelow.'] Have you any knowledge that 
 the disease does exist in every quarter of the globe ? 
 
 A. No further than I have read in the newspar 
 pers, and heard in this room. It exists in America, 
 in Great Britain, Holland, Denmark, Africa, and 
 Australia, and I know not how many other coun- 
 tries. I presume there can be little doubt that it 
 has existed in intermediate coimtries, and in Asia, 
 the remaining quarter of the globe. 
 
 Q. Are you aware of the knowledge which we 
 have had here in regard to the instances in Africa 
 of this disease, that the testimony shows that it was 
 carried into Africa from a distant and infected dis- 
 trict, and, so far as any stop has been put to it, it 
 has been by burning it out, by isolation ? 
 
 A. I do not know of any other or different facts, 
 in regard to the introduction of the disease into 
 Africa, than those which at one time were believed to 
 exist in regard to the introduction of the cholera into 
 the United States. We know that that disease was a 
 subject of great alarm. Passengers were prohibited 
 from landing from New York, and in some of the 
 New-England States; and, as that procedure was 
 founded in error, the other may also prove to be. 
 
316 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 Some of the statements that I have seen or heard in 
 the course of this hearing appear to me not very 
 probable. I noticed that it was stated, that the dis- 
 ease prevailed at one time in Denmark, and then it 
 stopped, — how and when, and in wliat manner, I 
 am unable to say, — and that it afterwards broke 
 out in consequence of a cow being brought from 
 Hungary that had the disease. It appeared to me 
 more probable that the disease had remained in 
 Denmark all the while, or was indigenous there. 
 
 Dr. LoHiNG. I made the statement that the 
 bringing of one hundred and eighty oxen from Hun- 
 gary caused the re-appearance of the disease in Den- 
 mark. The application of stringent laws in Denmark 
 had satisfied the farmers that the disease was nearly 
 eradicated. In regard to Australia, Doctor, are 
 there any statements with regard to the existence 
 of the disease in Australia that you are aware of, 
 other than those in the newspapers? Is it not a 
 fact, that all the knowledge we have of that country 
 goes to show that the seed of the disease got into 
 Australia, but was destroyed so soon that it never 
 spread ? 
 
 A. When I read the newspaper account, the 
 only thing that struck me was the extreme imprdba- 
 bility that this disease could have been carried in 
 the body of a cow, on a three-months' passage from 
 Europe to Australia, and that it could then be com- 
 municated from that animal. 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 317 
 
 Q. Did you ever hear of the disease in South 
 America ? 
 
 A. I never did. ^ 
 
 Q. You referred to the analogy between hanging 
 witches and Jews in times of superstition to cure 
 distempers. Do you think there is any analogy be- 
 tween such a piece of barbarous superstition as that 
 is, and an intelligent and enlightened attempt to re- 
 move disease by killing the disease-breeding cattle ? 
 
 A. The question whetlier any proceeding is en- 
 lightened or intelligent depends not so much upon 
 the qualifications of the individuals to judge right- 
 ly, as upon the manner in which they apply their 
 knowledge to practice. I believe it to be a fact, that 
 people are as much terrified in the most civilized 
 times, in regard to epidemics, as they were in the 
 most ignorant and unenlightened age of the world. 
 If I may be allowed to relate an anecdote, I wiU do 
 so. When the cholera first broke out in New York, 
 where it destroyed some three thousand people, in 
 the height of the epidemic, the >city government of 
 this city despatched a commissioa, consisting of three 
 physicians, to investigate the disease, and report 
 what they thought expedient to be done. I was one 
 of the commission. After residing in New York 
 three days, we returned in a steamboat, the last 
 which came from New York that season, to Provi- 
 dence. When we arrived a mile below Providence, 
 a boat came to us -with orders from the Board of 
 
318 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 Health of Providence to hold no communication 
 with the shore. 
 
 » We sent repeated applications to be permitted to 
 land and get home, for we were impatient and tired : 
 but we were kept there against our will the whole 
 day, at anchor in the stream below the town of 
 Providence ; and, about once in an hour, a boat came 
 down to tell us, that the Board of Health were still 
 in session in the court-house, and that the court- 
 house was surrounded by a mob, and that the Board 
 of Health was disposed to allow us to land, but the 
 mob kept sending in petitions not to permit this 
 pestilential epidemic to enter into their State. At 
 length a despatch came to us, that we might land at 
 Seekonk, in the State of Massachusetts, but that we 
 should not land in Rhode Island. I do not know 
 of any thing in the dark ages much less intelligent 
 than that. 
 
 Q. Then you think there is some analogy between 
 hanging Jews and witches who do not communicate 
 disease, and killing cattle which are spreading dis- 
 ease in every direction ? 
 
 A. Both are expedient, only so far as it gratifies 
 popular excitement. 
 
 Q. If you had a herd of animals, and introduced 
 among them a diseased one, and you found by expe- 
 rience that that disease passed from that animal into 
 others, you would not hesitate to distribute your 
 animals about the community? 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 319 
 
 A. In obedience to the popular will and a desire 
 to accommodate it, and not to outrage any strong 
 prejudices of the community, I should not. 
 
 Q. I am not speaking of popular prejudices ; but, 
 as a man and good citizen and a good farmer, what 
 would you do if you had a disease brought into -your 
 herd, and it went from one animal to another, step 
 by step, and you saw that the disease went by con- 
 tagion, — without the application of the nicest scien- 
 tific principles, — should you consider it a barbarous 
 prejudice to shut up your cattle ? 
 
 A. If I was convinced that the disease was 
 brought there by contagion, I should not allow them 
 to go elsewhere. If not, I should endeavor to get 
 at such evidence as I might, to settle the question. 
 
 Q. I suppose you would be unable to say whether 
 animals would be fit for breeding, — for the purposes 
 of reproduction, — in this diseased state ? 
 
 A. I am not clear on that point : we know that 
 children are sometimes born of parents in their last 
 illness, and those children grow up to be healthy, 
 useful citizens. 
 
 Dr. LoRiNG. That point has been put here once 
 before, and a comparison made between men and 
 animals ; and it has been stated that there were men 
 who had but one lung, and were useful for all the 
 practical purposes of human life. That may be 
 true. The question arises, whether there is any dif- 
 ference between an intellectual and accountable being 
 
320 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 and a simple animal, who is good for nothing except 
 the service he will render to man. It seems to me 
 that there is ; and I don't want to ask any question 
 on that point. 
 
 Mr. Bird. 1 want to ask the Doctor whether, in 
 his opinion, a cow or hull is affected hy an acute 
 .attack, so that one lung is destroyed, leaving the 
 other entirely healthy, — whether the progeny of 
 such animals would or would not be healthy ? 
 
 A. That involves further inquiry. Among man- 
 kind, we know that there are certain diseases that 
 are hereditary. 
 
 Q. Well, in case of an actual attack of pleuror 
 pneumonia, what would be the effect in that respect ? 
 
 A. If the animal had the disease and was recov- 
 ered, I do not see why he is not entitled to have as 
 healthy progeny as any other animal. If I under- 
 stand the disease, it is capable, in some instances, 
 of recovery. After he gets well, with one half of a 
 lung or a whole lung disabled, then what remains 
 to him is an infirmity, and not a disease. He is like 
 a man with one limb gone : he is good for various 
 purposes, though he may not walk very well. 
 
 Q. Do you think it would be practicable or safe 
 to remove any animals diseased with a contagious 
 .disease. That is, if you had a suspicion that ani- 
 mals had a contagious disease, do you think it woul^ 
 be safe to remove fthem to some other district ? 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 321 
 
 A. I think it would be safe to remove them into 
 a healthy district, providing their disease is conta- 
 gious, if all other cattle are removed from the same 
 locality. 
 
 Q. You don't imagine that private enterpris 
 could do this thing? 
 
 A. I should think it proper that the Common- 
 wealth should institute experiments that might throw 
 light upon the epidemic. 
 
 Dr. LoRiNG. You thought that free air and a 
 moderate diet might have a beneficial effect upon 
 the disease ? 
 
 A. Nothing strikes me as more probable, with a 
 removal of the diseased animals into as different 
 a situation as possible. 
 
 Q. Suppose you were to enter a country barn, 
 that reminded you of the once-fashionable " ventila- 
 tion gossamer hat," filled with meadow hay, you 
 would conceive that there was free air and moderate 
 diet ; and suppose you found the disease very exten- 
 sively in such a barn as that ? 
 
 A. I should be inclined to try another barn ; for 
 example, a colder after a warmer one. 
 
 Q. Well, suppose you were in a warm and tight, 
 
 well-clapboarded barn, with plenty of good English 
 
 hay, and you found the disease still worse, what 
 
 would you do under the circumstances? 
 
 21 
 
322 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 A. I should either give it up and let the cattle 
 die, or should try a new experiment. 
 
 Dr. LoRiNG. Well, we did try a new experiment : 
 ■we killed them; because those were the facts we 
 found, to a remarkable extent, in North Brookfield. 
 
 Mr. Andrew. Doctor, I think I have heard it 
 stated that no pulmonary disease in the human sys 
 tem is contagious. Is that true ? 
 
 A. I know of no disease of the lungs, or gener- 
 ally speaking of the chest, which is contagious. 
 There are some diseases — a very few in number — 
 which have appeared to be epidemic to a small ex- 
 tent, such as what was once called typhoid pneumo- 
 nia. But I do not know of any evidence that such 
 diseases are contagious, or that there is any evi 
 dence that there is any analogy between these and 
 pleuro-pneumonia^ which occurs in mankind. 
 
 Q. Supposing it to be true that no disease of the 
 lungs or chest in man is contagious, is it, or is 
 it not, possible to draw any inference from that fact 
 touching the contagiousness of lung or chest dis- 
 eases in neat cattle? 
 
 A. I should consider the evidence to be very 
 strong evidence. As far as it goes, the analogy leads 
 to the justification of the belief, that what is not 
 contagious in one race of beings may not be in 
 another. You have to jump too wide a gap between 
 the human being and the brute creation to suppose 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 323 
 
 otherwise. No such inference could be justified 
 with certainty : it is at most a probability. 
 
 Dr. LoRiNG. When you were speaking of the 
 question of contagiousness, you thought it might be 
 decided by taking ten or twenty diseased cattle, and 
 putting them into a healthy place. It occurred to 
 me that precisely that experiment had been tried at 
 Brookfield; otherwise, how do you account for the 
 jump of the disease from Belmdnt to North Brook- 
 field? 
 
 A. I am not qualified to giye decisive informar 
 tion nearer than this. I see two methods by which 
 it could have appeared at North Brookfield. One 
 of these is contagion ; the other is indigenous origin, 
 arising in North Brookfield as it has done in some 
 other places. 
 
 Q. It seems to be possible that it may have been 
 indigenous in Belmont and North Brookfield ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Mr. Bird. Dr. Bigelow, is it, or is it not, safe to 
 place any material reliance upon supposed analogies 
 between this disease and similar diseases in foreign 
 countries ? 
 
 A. If, upon accurate comparison of the accounts 
 given and reports made of the two diseases, they 
 closely resemble each other, I should say it was jus- 
 tifiable. Not otherwise. 
 
324 TESTIMONY ON THE CATTLE DISEASE 
 
 Q. What diseases, within your knowledge of the 
 medical world, are regarded to be contagious other 
 than cutaneous diseases ? 
 
 A. Smallpox, measles, hooping-cough, the ship 
 fever or typhus fever. The typhoid fever we do not 
 commonly consider as contagious. Ship fever is ; 
 and, as an example of it, the late Dr. Moriarty, 
 brother of the present Dr. Moriarty, physician on 
 Deer Island, took the disease and died, having had 
 communication with patients there. 
 
 Q. Are not cases of ship fever transferred from 
 ships to Deer Island ? 
 
 A. They are; and, if there is a predisposition 
 existing to take the disease, it will spread. If not, 
 it will not spread. I have known cases of ship 
 fever, to the number of seventeen, to be taken at one 
 time to the House of Industry at South Boston, and 
 not a secondary case occurred there. 
 
 Q. Does not that pretty nearly destroy the the- 
 ory of its contagiousness ? 
 
 A. It shows that there was no predisposition 
 there. It is pretty generally acknowledged that ship 
 fever has a contagious element, and may be commu- 
 nicated to predisposed persons. 
 
 Q. Well, as a general rule, it is only eruptive 
 diseases that are contagious, is it not? 
 
 A. No, sir : I am not prepared to say so. The 
 hooping-cough is considered contagious, and I think 
 I might add, mumps ; and perhaps some others. 
 
IN MASSACHUSETTS. 325 
 
 There are various diseases in regard to which the 
 medical profession are not agreed whether they are 
 contagious or not. I have said that these diseases 
 are generally conceived to be contagious : I do not 
 positively assert myself that they are. 
 
 Q. Then it is very difficult to say positively how 
 far the contagious virus is affected by susceptibility, 
 or by other conditions, so as to determine that in 
 given cases it will absolutely be communicated. 
 
 A. There are causes in existence which we can- 
 not measure, and do not know at the time ; and we 
 cannot foretell the result in certain cases of expo- 
 sure. 
 
 Dr. LoEiNG. Ship fever is considered contagious, 
 generally, is it not ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Well, now, ship fever requires susceptibility. 
 Would you consider that an argument against its 
 contagion ; or was the fact that I never took ship 
 fever when attending it in the hospital, an argument 
 against its contagiousness ? 
 
 A. That would be no argument against its con- 
 tagiousness ? 
 
 Q. Would not the law that applies to ship fever 
 apply to all contagious diseases ? Is there any 
 reason to doubt that? 
 
 A. I presume it does. 
 
EEPOET ON HOMOEOPATHY. 
 
 MADE TO THE COUNSELLORS 01 THE MASSACHUSETTS MEDICAL 
 SOCIETY DJ FEBRUARY, 1854. 
 
 The Committee appointed by the Counsellors of the 
 Massachusetts Medical Society, to consider the 
 resolution of the Essex North-District Society,* and 
 also that of Dr. Spofford, in relation to the subject 
 of Homoeopathy, beg leave to report : — 
 
 That the Massachusetts Medical Society was 
 incorporated mainly for the purpose of establishing 
 a proper standard of medical education, and of 
 insuring a competent degree of knowledge among 
 those who should be authorized to practise the 
 profession of medicine in this Commonwealth ; and 
 they are not aware that the Society possess any 
 power to coerce men, after they "have been thus 
 educated and qualified, to embrace or renounce 
 any theoretical opinions or modes of practice 
 which they may innocently believe, or which, not 
 believing, they may think it proper to profess. 
 
 * These resolutions contemplated dissolving tbe connection of homoe- 
 opathists with the Society. 
 [326] 
 
EEPOBT ON HOMCEOPATHT. 327 
 
 In medical science there are certain fundamental 
 laws relating to the structure and functions of the 
 body, and the morbid changes to which it is subject, 
 also regarding the signs by which those changes are 
 discovered, — upon which all well-educated physi- 
 cians are agreed. But, in certain provmces of 
 medical science, such fundamental laws, owing to 
 the imperfection of our means of knowledge, cannot 
 at the present time be established. This is the case 
 with Therapeutics, or the art of treating or curing 
 diseases, in which the evidence required by science 
 is diflScult to obtain ; and in regard to which writers 
 and teachers, sects and individuals, and even the 
 same individual in the course of an ordinary life- 
 time, may without dishonesty entertaia great diver- 
 sities of opinion. 
 
 The tendency of modern observation is such as 
 to lead us to the belief, that disease is less fre- 
 quently under the control of remedial treatment 
 than it was formerly supposed to be. Where 
 observations are impartially made by competent 
 persons, it is found that people recover, and also 
 that they die, under all the ordinary modes of treat- 
 ment. And the evidence collected from sources 
 which are worthy of reliance is not so abundant or 
 satisfactory as to convince a reasonable man, that 
 any general system of practice can be relied on for 
 the cure of all cases. Hence it is not surprising, 
 that diversities, contrasts, and even extravagances 
 
328 EEPOET ON HOM(EOPATHy. 
 
 iu practice, are embraced by the sanguine, the 
 credulous, the uninformed, and the interested, fre- 
 quently based upon no better authority than acci' 
 dent, imperfect observation, or defective power of 
 judgment, in the party who adopts them. 
 
 The broadest division which has been recognized 
 for centuries, in the treatment of disease, is that 
 which resolves the whole subject into the active and 
 the expectant modes of practice. The first employs 
 various interfering agencies in the management of 
 the sick, — .the last waits more on the unassisted 
 course of nature, — and both have long had their 
 exclusive advocates. 
 
 To the last of these divisions Homoeopathy really, 
 though not avowedly, belongs. Its character is, 
 that, while in reality it waits on the natural course 
 of events, it commends itself to the ignorant and 
 credulous by a professed introduction into the body 
 of inappreciable quantities of medicinal substances. 
 Now, the nugatory effect of such quantities is 
 demonstrated by the fact, that in civUized life evei'y 
 person is exposed to the daily reception, in the form 
 of solution, dust, or vapor, of homoeopathic quanti- 
 ties of almost every common substance known in 
 nature and art, without any appreciable consequen- 
 ces being found to follow. And the pretended 
 exactness with which such nominal doses are ad- 
 ministered by homoeopathic practitioners is doubt- 
 less a fallacy, capable of producing in the living 
 
BEPORT ON HOMCBOPATHT, 329 
 
 body no other effects than those which charlatanry 
 has in all ages produced in the minds and bodies 
 of imaginative patients. 
 
 It is a fact much older than the institution of 
 this Society, that visionary systems of practice have 
 replaced each other in the faith of multitudes, at 
 least several times in a century. And this will 
 probably be the case so long as practical medicine 
 continues to be, what it now is to a great extent, 
 a theoretical and conjectural science. At the pres- 
 ent period, among the sects usually called ii;regular, 
 the homoeopatliic sect prevails to a considerable 
 extent in this country and in Europe. In the 
 United States it is exceeded only by the sect called 
 Botanic or Thompsonian practitioners, which at the 
 present time appears, of the two, to number most 
 disciples. It is not probable that the faith of either 
 of these sects will be displaced by a return of their 
 followers to any more enlightened or rational creed. 
 Nevertheless, it is safe to predict that they will both 
 be superseded, in the course of time, by other sys- 
 tems not more rational or probable in themselves, 
 but possessing the attraction of greater novelty, or 
 urged upon the credulous with greater adroitness. 
 When the world, and especially the unenlightened 
 part of it, shall be settled in their opinions on other 
 sectarian subjects, we may anticipate unanimity of 
 opinion among them in the science of practical 
 medicine. 
 
330 EEPOBT ON HOMCEOPATHT. 
 
 But it is not only to expectant medicine, in the 
 form of its counterfeit, homoeopathy, that the cen- 
 sure of prejudice and credulity is to be attached. 
 The opposite system of active practice, carried to 
 the extreme usually called, heroic, is alike charge- 
 able with evil to the patients, whenever it becomes 
 the absorbing and exclusive course of the practi- 
 tioner. Physicians are too often led to exaggerate 
 the usefulness of the doctrines in which they have 
 been educated, and especially of those by the exer- 
 cise of .which they obtain their daily bread. In 
 such cases, habit gets the ascendency over enlight- 
 ened judgment ; and the man of routine or of 
 narrow views asks himself, from day to day, what 
 drug or what appliance he shall next resort to, 
 instead of asking the more important question, 
 whether any drug or any appliance is called for, or 
 is properly admissible in the case. 
 
 In Medicine, as in the other inexact sciences 
 which deeply concern the welfare of mankind, 
 enough has been learned to show, that extreme 
 measures, either of omission or of commission, are 
 not, when systematized as a whole, productive of 
 benefit or Safety to mankind. 
 
 It is quite probable that the prevalence, at times, 
 of eccentric and ultra-sectarian doctrines in medi- 
 cine, is attributable to the exaggerated value at- 
 tached by physicians themselves to incessant activity 
 in practice, and an assumption of credit for particulai- 
 
REPORT ON HOM(EOPATHT, 331 
 
 modes of medication, to which, as such, they are 
 not entitled. There is often a want of openness in 
 the intercourse of physicians, both enlightened and 
 ignorant, with their patients, who are requested 
 to believe that their cure depends not in any degree 
 on the salutary influences of nature and time, but 
 in the rigid enforcement of a prescribed routine of 
 practice,- either active or formal, as the case may be. 
 And, when opposite modes of treatment are urged 
 upon the public by different practitioners with 
 reasonings equally specious, it is not surprising 
 that patients should sometimes adopt that which is 
 least troublesome in its operation. Neither is it 
 surprising that they should sometimes embrace 
 even a deception, which absolves them from their 
 allegiance to an unnecessarily severe or troublesome 
 coiirse of treatment. 
 
 An honest £ind independent practitioner, and 
 especially a member of the Massachusetts Medical 
 Society, should never be induced to give his counsel 
 or his aid, in any shape, to empiricism and dishon- 
 esty, whether it occur among those who are within 
 or without the pale of its membership. And no 
 consideration of gain or notoriety should induce 
 those whose age or standing causes them to be. 
 resorted to for consultation, to lend their influence 
 or countenance to encourage either the delusions of 
 those who are honest, or the practices of those who 
 are not. 
 
832 REPORT ON HOMOBOPATHT. 
 
 If quackery, individual or gregarious, is ever to 
 be eradicated, or even abated, in civilized society, it 
 must be done by enlightening the public mind in 
 regard to the true powers of medicine. The com- 
 munity must be made to understand, that there are 
 certain things which medicine can do, and certain 
 other things which it cannot do ; that some diseases 
 are curable by active interference, and others by 
 time and nature alone; that true medical skill 
 lies in discrimination and prognosis, and judicious 
 adaptation of management, more than in assumed 
 therapeutic power, in regard to special agents ; and 
 that he who professes to cure by medicine a self- 
 limited fever is as much an impostor, or deluded 
 man, as he who pretends to do the same thing with 
 a fractured bone or incised wound. Nothing so 
 much shakes the confidence of mankind in the 
 medical profession as unfulfilled promises ; nothing 
 so much strengthens this confidence as fair dealings 
 exhibited in an earnest requirement and fearless 
 expression of the truth. Such a course, by com- 
 mending itself to the sensible and enlightened, may 
 be expected, sooner or later, in some measure to 
 influence the unreasonable and ignorant, — much 
 sooner, indeed, than a warfare carried on in the 
 arena of empiricism with its own weapons. 
 
ADDEESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE AMERICAN 
 ACADEMY OF ARTS AND SCIENCES, 
 
 AT THE OPENING OF THEIK COURSE OF LECTURES, 
 OCTOBER 27, 1852. 
 
 At a meeting of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences 
 .Tune 22, 1852,— 
 
 Mr. Agassiz, in behalf of the committee appointed to consider 
 the best means of increasing the Academy's Publication ^Fund, 
 reported, that the committee were unanimous in recommending 
 that a com'se of public lectures, of a popular character, be given by- 
 Fellows of the Academy during the ensuing winter ; that the Presi- 
 dent be requested to commence the course, by an Address setting 
 forth the objects and aim of the course ; and that each section of 
 the Academy appoint one of its number to deliver one lecture 
 upon some special subject belonging to, and prominent in, the 
 section's sphere of research. 
 
 It has been a serious question whether, amid the 
 general sadness which hangs as a cloud over our 
 city, which has seemed to check the ordinary cur- 
 rent of affairs, and to darken the very atmosphere 
 of social intercourse,* the pre-arranged exercises of 
 this place should not be suspended in solemn and 
 silent respect to the unusual occasion. But we are 
 bound by circumstances to perform that which, at 
 
 • The death of Daniel Webster. 
 
 [333J 
 
334 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 this time, we would not have wished to do. And, 
 leaving to the public voice the expression of that 
 general emotion, to which no limited occasion can 
 afford utterance, we shall proceed in the attempt to 
 execute the more humble duty that has been set 
 before us. 
 
 I am instructed, in behalf of the American Acad- 
 emy of Arts and Sciences, to report to you this 
 evening on the character and condition of that 
 institution, and the objects of the present course of 
 lectures. If it were possible that a society which 
 has existed in your midst for two or three genera- 
 tions, and which from time to time has numbered 
 among its members many of the most enlightened 
 and valuable of our citizens, could be in any measure 
 unknown, I might safely rely on the more gifted 
 laborers who are to follow me in this field, for the 
 vindication of its character and name. And, if the 
 present occupation of this lecture-room were a ques- 
 tion of doubtful propriety, I might briefly say,* that 
 the Academy needs, nay, more, that it deserves, 
 your countenance and support ; and that this is the 
 place and the manner in which your kind regards 
 have been solicited towards the encouragement of 
 its labors. But as the quiet operations of science 
 have not that wide-spread notoriety which attends 
 the more absorbing questions of peace and war, of 
 property and privilege, of safety and of danger, 
 there is reason for attempting a more detailed con- 
 
OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 335 
 
 sideration of the objects and results of our Academic 
 Incorporation. 
 
 Academies in the higher use of the term, philo- 
 sophical and learned societies, exist, and have long 
 existed, in every country of civilized Europe. In 
 common with colleges and universities, they are 
 designed to cultivate and disseminate scientific 
 truth ; but, unlike those institutions, the usual 
 province of the modern academy is to investigate, 
 rather than to teach; to bring together experts 
 from the various walks of science, literature, and 
 art ; to accumulate, for the benefit of the whole, the 
 researches and observations of all; to aid and to 
 encourage the difierent inquirers on their respective 
 tracks ; and to furnish vehicles for what is true, and 
 ordeals for what is unsettled, in the progress of 
 human knowledge. 
 
 One of the early fruits of the restoration of arts 
 and letters in Italy was the perception of the great 
 advantage attending the combination of effort in 
 academic institutions. In that country were the 
 fii st efficient examples of learned bodies co-operating 
 for their common good, and bringing their united 
 efforts to bear in the promotion of the arts and 
 sciences. From Italy, the principle of academic as- 
 sociation spread to England, Germany, and Trance ; 
 and, in all those countries, noble institutions, having 
 their foundation in the earnest quest of truth, and 
 supported by the zeal and learning of the best men 
 
336 ADDEBSS ON THE AMEEICAN ACADEMY 
 
 of their times, have been sent down to the present 
 age, marking their way by many high developments 
 of human intellect, and noble achievements of 
 human science. Some of them, which for two cen- 
 turies have enjoyed the sunshine of royal and public 
 patronage, now find themselves intrenched in ample 
 halls, surrounded by the machinery of modern sci- 
 ence, dispensing rewards with princely prodigality ; 
 offering seats, of which the prospective vacancy fills 
 with ambition the ' learned of foreign countries ; 
 throwing lustre on the cities of their respective 
 establishment ; and connected by little resemblance, 
 save that of etymology, with the simple preceding 
 groves of Plato and Arcesilaus. 
 
 Academic institutions have differed widely from 
 each other in the object, as well as the compre- 
 hensiveness, of their pursuits. Not only does the 
 history of literature furnish many examples of 
 academies of sciences and the arts, but there are 
 well-known like institutions of belles lettres, of 
 language, of inscriptions, of painting, sculpture and 
 architecture, of music, of antiquities, and of many 
 subordinate branches of useful and of elegant learn- 
 ing. Of course, the value of membership in any 
 of these bodies has depended on the character of 
 the institution itself, and the principles on which it 
 is conducted. The Royal Academy of France, often 
 known ipar excellenee as the Academy, not only under 
 its original name, but under the subsequent appella- 
 
OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 337 
 
 tions of National and Imperial Institute, has, during 
 a long period of years, sustained an almost unin- 
 terrupted pre-eminence in the republic of letters. 
 The labors of this body have cast a flood of light 
 on modern science ; and its assembled savans have 
 formed a tribunal, from whose scientific sentence 
 there seemed no appeal. Yet even this institution, 
 under" the occasional supineness of its members 
 and the influence of royal favoritism, lias more than' 
 once been a mark for the shafts of cotemporaneous 
 criticism. The poet Piron, affecting to define his 
 own humble position by an epitaph, says, " Here 
 lies Piron, who was nothing/ at all, not even an 
 Academician." 
 
 In the year 1779, in the midst of the exhausting 
 and yet unfinished contest of our Revolution, with 
 humble resources, but with confidence of future 
 promise, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences 
 was founded by an association of citizens of Massa- 
 chusetts. The fathers of our Commonwealth, well 
 aware that the lights of liberty and learning are 
 jointly conducive to the stability of free govern- 
 ment, gave their sanction, and in many cases their 
 individual efforts, to construct the foundation of an 
 ample edifice. Among the constellation of worthies 
 enrolled as the first members, we find the names 
 of the two Adamses, of Bowdoin and Gushing, of 
 Chauncey and Cooper, of Hancock, of Lowell, of 
 Sedgwick, Strong, and Sullivan, and about fifty 
 
338 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 others, — all of them names abeady registered in the 
 annals of their country's service, or distinguished 
 as proficients in the learning of their time. 
 
 The preface to their, first publication states, that 
 the Legislature was called on to sanction the society 
 ou a liberal and extensive plan, and to establish 
 it on a firm basis. " And to the honor of our 
 political fathers," say they, "be it spoken, that, 
 although the country was engaged in a distressing 
 war, — a war the most important to the liberties of 
 mankind that was ever undertaken by any people, 
 and which required the utmost attention of those 
 who were intrusted with our public concerns, — 
 they immediately adverted to the usefulness of the 
 design, entered into its spirit, and incorporated a 
 society with ample privileges." 
 
 But the approval of the Legislature was but a 
 small ofiset to the difficulties against which the new 
 association had to contend. " The country being 
 young," say they, " few among us have such afflu- 
 ence and leisure as to admit of" our "applying 
 much time to the cultivation of the sciences." And 
 in another place, " Many important European dis- 
 coveries have been in a great measure useless to 
 this part of the world, in consequence of a situation 
 so remote from the ancient seats of learning and 
 improvement. And of such publications as have 
 reached this country, the smallness of the number 
 has greatly limited their usefulness, as but few have 
 had the opportunity for perusing them." 
 
OP ARTS AND SCIENCES. 339 
 
 Under such disadvantages, so unlike the state 
 of things now, well might our courageous prede- 
 cessors solace and assure themselves by a pro- 
 spective view of the harvests they were sowing for 
 their descendants. " Settled," say they, " in an 
 extensive country, bordering upon the ocean, and 
 opened to a free intercourse with all the commercial 
 world, — a country comprehending several climates 
 and a rich variety of soils, watered and fertilized by 
 multitudes of springs and streams, and by many 
 grand rivers, — the citizens have great opportunities 
 and advantages for making useful experiments and 
 improvements, whereby the interests and happiness 
 of the rising empire may be essentially advanced. 
 At the same time enjoying, under a mild but steady 
 government, that freedom which excites and rewards 
 industry and gives a relish to life, — that freedom 
 which is propitious to the diffusion of knowledge, 
 which expands the mind and engages it to noble 
 and generous pursuits, — they have a stimulus to 
 enterprise which the inhabitants of few other coun- 
 tries can feel." 
 
 Such were the principles and the auspices under 
 which was kindled the small, dim light of our 
 Academy. Although it was not often overfed with 
 fuel, nor at all times watched with vestal vigilance, 
 it has at least never been suffered to go wholly out ; 
 and, after glimmering with uncertain, yet increasing 
 ravs. for two thirds of a centurv, it has at length 
 
340 ADDRESS ON THE AMBBICAN ACADEMY 
 
 grown to be an acknowledged beacon in science, 
 a light to the philosophic of our own country, a 
 western star, to whose unshadowed brilliancy and 
 true monitions the European world now looks with 
 interest and respect. 
 
 The early labors of the Academy were in keeping 
 with its early professions. They did not trench 
 deeply on fields appropriated by foreign explorers, 
 but rather turned their inquiries to the capacities 
 of their own country, to the improvement of its 
 practical advantages, and the knowledge of its natu- 
 ral history. With the exception of a few limited 
 papers in mathematics and astronomy, the first 
 volumes of the Transactions are occupied with such 
 objects as the cultivation of corn and the engrafting 
 of trees ; examination of springs of water, and reports 
 on diseases of cattle ; speculations on natural caves, 
 recorded earthquakes, and conjectured volcanoes. 
 Narratives are given of the appearance of water- 
 spouts, and of remarkable devastations of lightning 
 on trees, rocks, and dwelling-houses. Fossil frogs, 
 " that under the cold stone " were believed to have 
 passed monotonous ages of incomprehensible exist- 
 ence, are presented, in these memoirs, living and 
 jumping before the reader. Flocks of swallows, 
 blackening the air with their numbers, abandon the 
 joyous, twittering, feather-chasing career of their 
 summer life, and, with ominous solemnity, assemble 
 on the banks of some stagnant pool, rendered famous 
 
OP AET3 AND SCIENCES. 341 
 
 perhaps with the tradition of former engulfments 
 of their species, and then are seen no more. A 
 cloud settles on the mystery of their wintry exist- 
 ence ; and the wonder was, that, when they appeared 
 in the following spring, their sleek and glossy 
 plumage hore no traces of the deep mud under 
 which they were believed to have slept out their 
 hybernation. 
 
 The riches of our vegetable kingdom, and the 
 importance of establishing a more thorough and 
 practical knowledge of its different portions, did 
 not escape the attention of the pioneers of our 
 natural history. Great difficulties beset the early 
 botanists in the prosecution of their inquiries, from 
 the novelty of the subject, the paucity of books, 
 and the difficulty of maintaining correspondence 
 with foreign scientific authorities, in those cases 
 where books are insufficient, and knowledge, to a 
 certain extent, must be ocular and traditionary. 
 Yet the Rev. Dr. Cutler, of our State, has culled 
 for himself an enduring garland from a field in 
 which it would appear that the harvest was plente- 
 ous, but the laborers were few. 
 
 The valleys of New England are not the seat of 
 antiquities and hieroglyphic records; yet, in the 
 earlier volumes of the Transactions, there is more 
 than one account of the memorable inscription on 
 our far-famed Dighton rock. This curioug relic of 
 the scattered and now fast disappearing aboriginal 
 
342 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 inhabitants of our country, is copied and described 
 by various persons, and hypothetically explained by 
 the late excellent Judge Davis, of this city. What- 
 ever be the mystery it involves, a hunting scene or 
 a religious rite, an achievement of war or of con- 
 quest, the pages of the Academy offer a faithful 
 facsimile for the use of foreigners and of posterity, 
 who may happen to find themselves called and com- 
 petent to its perusal. 
 
 But by far the most ambitious among the early 
 speculations of the Academy is the theory of Gov- 
 ernor Bowdoin, then President of the Institution, 
 on the existence in the universe of an all-surround- 
 ing orb. That distinguished gentleman and scholar, 
 after various speculations on the supposed waste 
 of material light from the surface of the sun, and 
 the danger to all material bodies from their own 
 unresisted gravity attracting them towards each 
 other, published an elaborate memoir, entitled " Ob- 
 servations tending to prove, by phenomena and 
 Scripture, the existence of an orb which surrounds 
 the visible material system, and which may be 
 necessary to preserve it from the ruin to which, 
 without such a counterbalance, it seems liable, by 
 that universal principle in matter, gravitation." 
 
 The author satisfies himself, by a train of ingeni- 
 ous reasoning, of the sufficiency of his theory to 
 prevent the apprehended catastrophe. He deals not 
 only with the necessities of such an arrangement to 
 
OP ARTS AND SCIENCES. 343 
 
 produce stability in our universe, but draws super- 
 numerary arguments from the presence of the Milky 
 Way, the blue color of the firmament, and lastly 
 from various corroborative texts of Scripture. 
 
 History is silent in regard to the extent of the 
 impression made upon the world by the promulga- 
 tion of this comprehensive theory. The orb is 
 supposed to have been standing several years after 
 the announcement of its character and office ; and, 
 when it fell, the Academy, nothing daunted, pro- 
 ceeded to prosecute its celestial investigations with 
 a zeal and tenacity of purpose prophetic of its 
 future more elevated destiny. 
 
 -tenacem propositi 
 
 - si ftactus illabatar orbis 
 
 Impaviduin ferient ruinffi." 
 
 Should any one incline to disparage the labors 
 of our predecessors, on account of their honest and 
 earnest, though sometimes misdirected, inquiries 
 for truth, he will find parallel examples in the early 
 history of every learned body in Europe of a cen- 
 tury's standing. The first publications of the oldest 
 philosophical societies contain speculations on the 
 transmuting of metals, projects for perpetual motion, 
 schemes for raising water without power, and for 
 flying in the air by machinery, credulous inquiries 
 about secret poisons and fabulous natural pro- 
 ductions. They did not think it beneath them to 
 investigate extravagant rumors ; and they often pro- 
 
344 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 pounded interrogatories, with this view, to foreign 
 ambassadors, missionaries, merchants, and naviga- 
 tors. The Royal Society of London sent many 
 grave inquiries to Sir Philberto Vernatti, tlien resi- 
 dent in the Indies, in hopes to solve some of the 
 difficulties which were weighing upon them. Tlie 
 first of these was, " Whether diamonds and other 
 precious stones grow again after three or four years 
 in tlie same places where they have been digged 
 out ? " The categorical answer to this question is, 
 " Never." Another inquiry is, " Whether, in the 
 island of Sombrero, there be found such a vegetable 
 as Master James Lancaster relates to have seen, 
 which grows up to a tree, shrinks down when one 
 offers to pluck it, and would quite shrink unless 
 held very hard ? " Sir Philberto replies, that he 
 " cannot meet with any that ever heard of such 
 a vegetable." 
 
 Again they inquire, " Whether the Indians, can 
 so prepare that stupefying herb Datura, that they 
 may make it lie several days, months, years, accord- 
 ing as they will have it, in a man's body, and at 
 the end kill him without missing half an hour's 
 time ? " 
 
 The twenty-ninth question is, " Whether there 
 be a tree in Mexico that yields water, wine, vinegar, 
 oil, milk, honey, wax, thread, and needles ? " The 
 answer here is more encouraging : " Tlie cocos- 
 trees yield all this, and more." 
 
OF ABTS AND SCIENCES. 345 
 
 In the inquisitiveness and credulity which marked 
 these early stages of scientific inquiry, we have at 
 least the gratifying assurance, that our philosophic 
 fathers did not close their ears against the reception 
 of knowledge, from whatever quarter it might pro- 
 ceed. They were just emerging from the deep 
 intellectual darkness which for long ages had 
 brooded over the world. They were the survivors 
 of many generations, among whom to inquire had 
 been a crime, to reason had been a heresy, and to 
 experiment a satisfactory evidence of intercourse 
 with the powers of darkness. Secretly, and by 
 stealth and stratagem, the germs of science had 
 here and there been nourished into visible life; 
 but the air and the sunlight of heaven were denied 
 to their upward expanding tendencies. And when 
 at length, with the Reformation, the revival of 
 letters, and the introduction of the printing-press, 
 a veil was lifted from the moral and material world, 
 no wonder that inquiring eyes were dazzled, and 
 strong heads were turned, with the startling devel- 
 opments of the solar system, the circumnavigation 
 of the globe, and the practicable intercourse of 
 men and nations with each other. 
 
 The comparatively short period during which 
 the American Academy has existed, has been one 
 of advanced and rapid progress in the history of 
 scieiice throughout the world. It has been the era 
 of the Herschels and Laplace, of Lavoisier and of 
 
346 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 Davy, of Cuvier, of Watt, and a host of gigantic 
 minds, whose conquests over unknown regions will 
 never be obliterated from the map of science. Dur- 
 ing this period of progress, the small number and 
 limited opportunities of the scientific men of our 
 own hemisphere have been such as to render them 
 lookers-on, recipients and dispensers, rather than 
 originators, of new discovery. For many years, the 
 publications of this Academy were so sparse and 
 inconsiderable as to induce serious question from 
 some foreign scientific bodies, whether the usual 
 exchange of printed Transactions were worth keep- 
 ing up. There was a long period, during which the 
 late venerated Bowditch seemed to be the almost 
 solitary pillar on whose support the Academy relied 
 for its character and position in the philosophic 
 world. And to his praise be it said, that, while 
 engaged in the surpassing labors which have con- 
 stituted the monument of his living and posthumous 
 fame, he never shrunk from identifying his name 
 with a small, and then almost obscure, institution 
 of his native country. Punctual in his attendance 
 on its meetings, earnest in his appeals to the lagging 
 industry of its members, foremost in every move- 
 ment for its prospective welfare, pouring into its 
 vacant pages the overflowing of his own exuberant 
 mind, he was not only a centre, but a central fire ; 
 not only attracting, but exciting, warming, illumin- 
 ating, all within the circle of his influence. By his 
 
OF AETS AND SCIENCES. 347 
 
 side walked the accomplished Pickering, laborious, 
 erudite, modest ; a Totary of learning for its own 
 sake ; whose capacious and cultivated mind, affluent 
 in various lore, seemed poor only to his own aspir- 
 ing and comprehensive genius. 
 
 By these men, more than all others, in the day 
 of its obscurity, was this Academy cherished and 
 upheld. They did not feel authorized to boast 
 much of its history, nor of its existing performances. 
 They were not vainglorious of their own share in 
 whatever of reputation it might have happened to 
 acquire. But they felt and expressed that in it 
 was contained the germ of future development ; 
 that to a certain extent it had books, and endow- 
 ments, and position ; that it was their duty and 
 that of their cotemporaries to cultivate its capacities, 
 to improve its condition, and at least to preserve it 
 unimpaired, until the increasing population and 
 wealth in our country, and correspondent increase 
 of the men and means of science, should impart to 
 it a vigoroTis vitality, like that which sustains the 
 older institutions of Europe. 
 
 We do not assume too much in saying, that this 
 period has at length arrived. The thinly attended 
 meetings, few and far between, in which a quorum 
 was with difficulty convened, perhaps only to spend 
 an hour in debating a by-law or electing a foreign 
 fellow, have been replaced by monthly and semi- 
 monthly gatherings, in which the time is often too 
 
348 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 short to give utterance to the accumulated re- 
 searches of the members. The demand for publica- 
 tion of new and important matter outstrips the 
 limited resources of the treasury, and now brings 
 the institution before the public of this city, a 
 solicitor for the hearing of its claims. What is it 
 that this Academy, through its members, is now 
 performing ? What is it that it asks the means of 
 publishing to the world? Not the meagre and 
 uninteresting record of every-day phenomena. Not 
 the premature speculations of unqualified reasoners 
 on more expanded subjects. Not the repeated 
 lessons received, with unquestioning docility, from 
 the higher sources of transatlantic wisdom. It now 
 rather sits in judgment on unsettled questions of 
 European science, and pushes its own unaided 
 investigations beyond the previous bounds of human 
 knowledge. Its researches during the last five or 
 six years have been such in magnitude and im- 
 portance, that they may without disadvantage be 
 brought into comparison with those of many of the 
 time-honored institutions of the Old World. Closely 
 connected with our distinguished University, num- 
 bering among the teachers of that seminary a large 
 portion of its most accomplished and efficient mem- 
 bers, making the pages of its publications a vehicle 
 for the light which emanates from the observatory, 
 the apparatus, the collections of that venerable seat 
 of learning, aided moreover by the naturalists, the 
 
OP ARTS AND SCIENCES. 349 
 
 philosophers, and the annalists of other societies 
 among us, — it has established an influence which 
 could not well be now spared from the republic 
 of science. 
 
 We may say, without fear of contradiction, that 
 there are few branches of physical knowledge which 
 have not been illustrated or enlarged by the mem- 
 bers of this body ; and when difficult labors are to 
 be performed, or difficult problems to be solved, 
 no source of information in our country has been 
 deemed more reliable, or more frequently been put 
 in requisition, than the authority of this Academy. 
 The plants of California and New Mexico have 
 repeatedly come here to be named and described. 
 The late exploring expedition sent to this city a 
 large portion of its collected treasures, for investi- 
 gation and judgment. The fossil bones of gigantic 
 quadrupeds are accumulated in our midst with 
 a completeness and abundance such as is found in 
 no other place ; and they are presented to the world 
 with an amplitude of scientific delineation, seldom, 
 if ever, surpassed. Huge limbs and heads of 
 undescribed troglodytes, exceeding those of man 
 which they counterfeit, and whose race is now 
 living in African forests, have received their first 
 description in this city. 
 
 The pages of our Transactions offer the faithful 
 impress, not elsewhere found, of the footprints of 
 colossal birds and ijl^sterious reptiles, transferred 
 
350 ADBEESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 from the banks of our own rivers, where, awaiting 
 the perusal of the naturalist, they have lain for 
 unknown ages, stereotyped in stone. It is fresh in 
 our recollection, that, when the credulity of the 
 popular voice, not without the assent of men of 
 science, had giveif a fictitious reality to a monster 
 compounded of contributions levied from many 
 individuals, and when this deception gained foot- 
 hold not only in our own greatest city, but after- 
 wards in one of the enlightened capitals of Germany, 
 the doubt was removed and the deception made mani- 
 fest by the scientific sentence of one of this Academy. 
 
 A few years ago, a call was made by the Legisla- 
 ture of this Commonwealth for researches into the 
 various departments of its indigenous natural his- 
 tory. This call was promptly and ably responded 
 to ; and the reports returned on the geology, the 
 forest-trees, the fishes, the insects, and the other 
 invertebrata of Massachusetts, were in the highest 
 degree creditable to those Academicians from whose 
 labors they emanated. Some of these subjects are 
 yet waiting the results of this course of lectures, to 
 give their illustrations to the public. 
 
 The incipient mysteries of organic development, 
 the structure and transformations of the animal- 
 cular world, the scarce visible organisms which fill 
 our waters with busy and efiective life, the unknown 
 generations which have written with their own 
 remains the history of preceding nature, have often 
 
OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 351 
 
 been drawn from obscurity, their laws and limits 
 studied, and many of their new and unknown forms 
 for the first time described and arranged by one 
 of our adopted members, whom we may well place 
 in the foremost rank of living naturalists. And, 
 as if to indicate the claim to notice of what might 
 seem a humble department of zoology, we have been 
 taught, from the same indefatigable source, that, 
 suice the period of man's existence on this globe, 
 a vast peninsula, constituting nearly an entire State 
 of this Union, has been raised from the bottom of 
 the ocean, and added to the previous continent, 
 by the silent conspiring agency of coral polypes. 
 
 When we turn our inquiries in another direction, 
 we find that the study and knowledge of the' electric 
 power has not deserted the country of Franklin. 
 TMs mighty agent, before which men trembled in 
 former ages, — believing, in their alarm, that Jove 
 was wielding his bolts, or " that spirits were riding 
 the northern light," — has become, in philosophic 
 hands, the docile messenger of thought over our 
 vast country, and the faithful monitor of danger 
 in our cities, and seems about to reveal the very 
 measure of its velocity to the persevering interroga- 
 tions of members of this Academy. 
 
 I should weary you with detail, were I to recount 
 the various contributions made among us to mathe- 
 matical, chemical, economical, mechanic, and micro- 
 scopic science, and to the natural history of the 
 
352 ADDEESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 globe and of its inhabitants. I might say, that 
 the tornado which last year swept over a neighbor- 
 ing district has left on our pages an impress more 
 minute than ever whirlwind left before. I might 
 say, that the forthcoming nautical almanac, the 
 joint and arduous production of our mathemati- 
 cians, will stand in the foremost rank of similar 
 authorities. I might bring before you the perfected 
 turbine wheel, and the elaborate cordage machinery, 
 as examples of the mechanical ability and inventive 
 genius of our Academicians ; and I might cite many 
 instances of energetic co-operation with other bod- 
 ies, in the magnetic observations, in meteorology, 
 in the coast survey, and in the general advancement 
 of geographical and philosophic knowledge. 
 
 Conspicuous above other sciences, for the vast- 
 ness of its objects, and the amount of intellectual 
 effort which it has called into being, stands astron- 
 omy, one of the earliest, the most difficult, and 
 most successful studies of the human mind. For 
 many years, the discoveries of its observers, and the 
 results of its analysts, have, by the common consent 
 of Central and Northern Europe, been chronicled in 
 one place, in the city of Altona, in the astronomical 
 journal of the eminent Professor Schumacher. But 
 Schumacher is dead, and his divided mantle has 
 fallen upon the shoulders of more than one com- 
 petent successor. The only journal in the English 
 language now devoted to pure astronomical science, 
 
OP ARTS AND SCIENCES. 353 
 
 regularly reporting, with discriminating exactness, 
 the advances made in that department of knowl- 
 edge, and enriched by contributions from both 
 sides of the Atlantic, as well as from its own 
 editor, is now published in this country, and issues 
 periodically from the press of Cambridge in Massa^ 
 chusetts. 
 
 It has not been in vain that public liberality has 
 provided our University with instruments capable 
 of penetrating the depths of space. It has found in 
 that place eyes adequate to perceive, and minds 
 competent to analyze, the abstruser revelations of 
 astronomical science. The meetings of this Acade- 
 my have heard the announcement of new celestial 
 bodies, and the assignment of unexpected laws to 
 others already familiar to the European world. 
 Who is there, from the schoolboy to the sage, who 
 has not dwelt and gazed and speculated on the 
 mysterious ring that surrounds the planet Saturn ? 
 Who has not wondered at this exceptional feature 
 of the known universe, and planted himself, in 
 imagination, on the surface of that distant sphere, 
 that he might seem to contemplate the radiant arch 
 which spanned its unknown firmament ? Yet this 
 remaining anomaly of the visible creation, this 
 marvel and study of modern astronomy, has been 
 destined to reveal its structure at our own observa- 
 tory. And the probability of its fluid nature, and 
 
 the laws by which it is sustained, have been deduced 
 
 23 
 
864 ADDRESS ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 from the observations, and established by the pro- 
 found analysis, of our own astronomers. 
 
 Need I call up before this audience the recent 
 fame of that far ulterior planet, which, since the 
 creation of the world, has held its dim and unde- 
 tected course around the verge of our solar system, 
 until at length its remote presence so weighed upon 
 the instructed sense of the Parisian philosopher, 
 that it was felt and known even before it was seen ? 
 And need I say that this object of absorbing interest, 
 this wonder of its time, after justifying, in some 
 measux'e, the rival claims to its discovery of the 
 three most enlightened nations of Europe, came at 
 last to receive the determination of its true orbit, 
 position, mass, and motion, from the geometers of 
 our own Academy? 
 
 I have said enough to show, that the American 
 Academy of Arts and Sciences has earned for itself 
 a position among similar institutions of the world ; 
 and although, from the necessary limits of the 
 occasion, I have not been able to take fitting notice 
 of other investigations made here for the advance- 
 ment of knowledge and other worthy achievements 
 in the parallel walks of literature, yet without arro- 
 gance I might assert, that, in the different sections 
 of this Academy, embracing the great departments of 
 modern research and cultivation, men are now found 
 competent to perceive truth, and qualified to return 
 light, on the varied objects of human sisience. 
 
OP ABTS AND SCIENCES. 355 
 
 It is not necessary to say, that the meetings of 
 such a body afford a nucleus, around which are 
 attracted and concentrated the contributions of 
 most of our scientific men. And the regularly 
 published proceedings of this body are the vehicle 
 through which are given to the world the results 
 of their labors. 
 
 It ought not then to be said, that, in this enlight- 
 ened community, the efforts of so active and eflScient 
 an institution should be embarrassed by financial 
 deficiencies. Yet such is the uniform excess of 
 its expenditures over its limited income, that the 
 Academy is not able to procure the books wanted 
 for the information of its members, or to issue the 
 publications which should give utterance to its own 
 investigations. So far from enjoying the prompt- 
 ness and amplitude of appearance which attend the 
 productions of similar institutions abroad, it has 
 happened, more than once, that the discoveries of 
 our scientific men have had to wait, until they were 
 actually superseded by the same discoveries abroad, 
 because the printed pages and the illustrations of 
 the engraver could not be commanded at the requi- 
 site time. 
 
 As a nation, we are proud of whatever contrib- 
 utes to our national glory. We are boastful of our 
 growth, our political progress, our victories, our 
 annexations. We are proverbially sensitive, even 
 in small matters, to questions of precedence and 
 
356 ADDRESS- ON THE AMERICAN ACADEMY 
 
 subordination ; and we give our undivided sympathy 
 even to a national contest of locksmiths. The 
 triumph of nautical skill in a distant boat-race 
 binds this Union more firmly together, by the com- 
 mon thrill of exultation which vibrates from Maine 
 to Texas. 
 
 Have we, then, no place for the rising star of 
 science ? Shall we avert our eyes from the dawn- 
 ing light, because its rays do not fall on us frdm the 
 accustomed east ? Have we no encouragement for 
 those, our countrymen, to whom the Old World is 
 beginning to yield its reluctant honors? Are we 
 incapable of appreciating the value of scientific 
 progress, and the importance that our own country 
 should not be last in the general march of improve- 
 ment which characterizes the present age ? Such 
 has not been the character and usage of this our 
 city. Such could not have been the expectation 
 of those who, in adverse times, planted and nour- 
 ished among us seeds capable of a redundant har- 
 vest. 
 
 I have thus, ladies and gentlemen, endeavored 
 to present to your favorable notice the character 
 and claims of the Academy of Arts and Sciences. 
 In the course of lectures which is to follow, the 
 Academy vrill speak for itself. I am aware that 
 it is presumptuous for one absorbed in the cares 
 of a responsible profession, who has added little 
 to the common storehouse of indigenous science, to 
 
OP AET8 AND SCIENCES. 357 
 
 appear as the advocate and representative of so 
 distinguished a body. But I am impressed with 
 the importance of the occasion, and obey the com- 
 mands which have been laid upon me ; and I will 
 shelter myself under the belief, that it may some- 
 times be permitted, even to the drone in the hive, 
 to cause the air to vibrate in honor of the labors 
 of his more efficient colleagues. 
 
APHORISMS ON THE WAR.* 
 
 To THE EdiTOBS OI" THE BOSTON Dailt Adveetiseb : 
 
 It would be an anomaly and a disgrace, if the 
 United States, with more than twenty millions of 
 loyal inhabitants, affluent, powerful, and warlike, 
 should not be able to put down the insurrectionary 
 movement of an impoverished and restricted people, 
 of scarcely half their numbers. 
 
 The war which we are waging, vast as its evils 
 are, may be said to be popular in the United States. 
 Soldiers desire to fight, contractors to operate, citi- 
 zens to assist, — all are impatient of delay. The 
 nation looks with absorbing interest on the grand 
 drama which is advancing to its denouement. The 
 blood and the treasure are forgotten. The spectacle 
 is magnificent, the stake is beyond calculation, and' 
 the price is not grudged. 
 
 Incumbrances by debt and taxation are the com- 
 mon burden of all countries. - We alone have 
 hitherto enjoyed an immunity greatly exceeding 
 that of other nations. And, now that our turn, has 
 
 * From the Boston DaUy Advertiser, Feb. 8, 1862. 
 [358] 
 
APHORISMS ON. THE "WAE. 359 
 
 come, we may safely repose on the unquestioned 
 vigor and vitality of our country to carry us 
 through the trial. 
 
 • If a friendly nation could be found, equal in 
 power and population to our own, who would 
 generously assume half our debt, and relieve us 
 in twenty-five years from half our liability, we 
 should probably think our burden a light one. 
 Such a nation is to be found in the mere increment 
 of our own population, which doubles once in 
 twenty-five years. 
 
 An impoverished and declining people, such as 
 the South now is, cannot long carry on an expen- 
 sive war. When soldiers arc neither fed nor 
 clothed nor paid, they are apt to mutiny and dis- 
 band, and, as in. Spanish America, to form guerillas, 
 and plunder friends and foes for subsistence. 
 
 We hear much of the implacable and deadly 
 hatred of Southerners for the North. This will not 
 be cured by concessions and smooth speeches. 
 When the landholders and slaveholders and excited 
 ladies of the South shall find themselves left in the 
 hands of an unscrupulous and lawless soldiery, 
 they may perhaps think of invoking from the 
 Union flag a protection which nothing else can 
 afibrd them. 
 
 Virginia is already ruined. With a debt exceed- 
 ing forty millions before the war began ; with her 
 soil alternately threatened or overrun by opposing 
 
360 APHOEISMS ON THE WAE. 
 
 armies ; compelled to support a standing army of 
 her own, and at the same time to feed a host of 
 gratuitous auxiliaries ; exhausting herself in erect- 
 ing forts and batteries for the United States here- 
 after to occupy ; deserted by the population of 
 nearly half lier counties; rich only in neglected 
 fields and unmarketable negroes, — what is she to 
 expect short of regeneration, by the transfer of her 
 soil to more suitable and loyal owners ? 
 
 South Carolina is ruined. Originally inconsider- 
 able in importance; her slender resources early 
 crippled by the prodigious effort to* take Port 
 Sumter ; overrun by a negro majority in her popu- 
 lation, so that every black man cannot find a white 
 man to guard him ; the unburnt remnants of her 
 principal city cut off from intercourse with the 
 civilized world; her best ports and islands in the 
 hands of the enemy, — she seems not destined to 
 occupy a large space in future American history. 
 
 The great wars of history have not often been 
 ended in a year. We may yet have victories to 
 encourage us ; we may need disasters to unite us ; 
 foreign interference may complicate our struggle. 
 But foreign nations have more interest in the 
 attitude of their near neighbors than in that of a 
 remote people like" ours, with whom they know 
 that a collision involves no ultimate good. 
 
 When this war is ended, we must probably be- 
 come for some time a military nation. We shall 
 
APHORISMS ON THE WAR. 361 
 
 have to manage anomalous communities of strag- 
 gling Indians, of refractory Mormons, of emanci- 
 ' pated slaves and their emancipated masters. And 
 this will be a tax on the resources of our growing 
 nation, but not greater than that which has been 
 required to control either British India or French 
 Algeria. 
 
APHORISMS ON THE WAR * 
 
 . n. 
 
 To THE EdITOES op THE BOSTON Dailt Adteetiseb : 
 
 In the war of the American Revolution, we were 
 defeated at Bunker Hill, at Long Island, White 
 Plains, Brandywine, Germantowh, Camden, Guil- 
 fordj and various other places. Yet our brave 
 fathers fought manfully for seven years, and in the 
 end conquered a glorious peace. 
 
 In the war of the Revolution, we had generals 
 of various abilities and fortunes, mostly without 
 education or experience, among whom no one was 
 defeated so many times as General Washington. 
 Yet our brave fathers persevered manfully until 
 they conquered a glorious peace. 
 
 In the present century, all the great nations of 
 Europe — France, England, Prussia, and Russia — 
 have encountered many defeats more extensive, 
 disastrous, and humiliating than any which we 
 have suffered. Yet these nations are now the most 
 powerful and prosperous in Europe. The last of 
 
 * From the Boston Daily Advertiser, May 18, 1862. 
 [862] 
 
APHORISMS ON THE WAR. 363 
 
 them is at present, like ourselves, engaged in the 
 struggle of emancipation, a labor which the others 
 'have fortunately brought to a termination years 
 ago. 
 
 In the common acceptation of the terms, an 
 army is said to conquer which retains possession 
 of the field of battle, while the party which leaves 
 it is said to be defeated. Yet it often happens that 
 the results in slaughter and starvation preponder- 
 ate greatly against the victors. The battles of 
 Bunker HiU, Eylau, and Borodino left the victorious 
 party worse than it found them. A dozen victories 
 like that of Chancellorsville would destroy the 
 rebel army and the rebel cause. 
 
 The capital of a nation consists of its men and 
 its property. In an active war, if every battle were 
 a drawn battle or a barren victory, the weaker 
 party and not the stronger would perish from 
 inanition. 
 
 At the beginning of the present war, there were 
 about thirteen slave States, properly so called. Of 
 these we now hold four, if not five, through con- 
 quest or loyal adhesion. We also hold a large 
 number of their most important cities and seaports, 
 including Baltimore, Norfolk, and New Orleans. 
 Considering the magnitude of the war, this is 
 pretty good success for two years. Another two 
 years of proportionate success will annihilate the 
 rebellion. 
 
364 APHORISMS ON THE WAE. 
 
 It is probably necessary that the war should 
 continue two years longer, to cause the world to 
 supply itself with cotton from other sources, and 
 to open the eyes of the South to the insignificance 
 and ruin brought. on by their suicidal labors. 
 
DIALOGUE BETWEEN NAPOLEON THE FIRST, 
 AND JEREMLVH, A LATE CITIZEN OE THE 
 UNITED STATES.* 
 
 Napoleon. Well, citizen Jeremiah, glad to see 
 you established at the Court of Rhadamanthus. 
 What news do you bring from the outer crust? 
 
 Jeremiah. Dismal enough, please your majesty ; 
 all going to destruction, — Union split, rebels not 
 beaten nor like to be, business quashed, manufac- 
 tures and commerce annihilated, crops short, stocks 
 down, amusements done for ever, and people groan- 
 ing and starving from one end of the continent to 
 the other. I had just made up my mind to emi- 
 grate to France or Kamschatka, when I found 
 m^elf suddenly drafted and marched into Pluto's 
 army. 
 
 If. Why, man, I thought you called your 
 country the model of creation, overflowing with 
 men and money, food and raiment, and nothing to 
 do but squat where you please, and enjoy your- 
 selves as long as you please! 
 
 J. So it was, till the outbreak of this accursed 
 
 * From the Boston Daily Advertiser, Aug. 11, 1862. 
 
 [365] 
 
366 DIALOGUE. 
 
 rebellion ; but now a quarter of the people hav( 
 gone oif, and are going to cut the throats of th( 
 other three-quarters. 
 
 iV. It did npt use to be so in my time. I gen 
 erally thought that such questions were settled in 
 favor of the most men, the most guns, and the mos( 
 money. If it were not that my jailor Pluto is more 
 inexorable even than Sir Hudson Lowe, I should 
 like to contract to put your " gigantic rebellion," in 
 one year, into a quart measure. 
 
 J. Alas, sir ! haven't they got a million of men 
 in arms, and four million of niggers to keep them 
 supplied with food, fodder, and clothing, all with- 
 out expense, and all of them inhabiting the most 
 delightful and salubrious country in the world ? 
 
 N. And haven't you three or four millions of 
 men to their one, and fifty ships to their one, and 
 five hundred gold eagles to their one ? Why, man ! 
 you must fight till you have killed off a million on 
 each side, and then you will have two millions left, 
 and they will have nothing. Or, what is equiva- 
 lent, you must let them see that you mean to do it, 
 and have set about it. 
 
 J. Ah, sir ! think of the tremendous .bloodshed 
 and slaughter of going to war in that style. 
 
 JV. Tut, man! I left twelve thousand of my 
 brave fellows on the field at Austerlitz, and fourteen 
 thousand at Jena, and thirty thousand at Bylau. 
 A most humane policy it was, too, on my part ; for, 
 
DIALOGUE. 367 
 
 if I had dawdled away a week in fighting the same 
 battles, I should have had three times the number 
 killed, and perhaps been beaten myself. And then, 
 Jeremiah, on meurtpar tout, these men might all have 
 been dead in their beds in less than a generation. 
 
 J. What is to become of our ships and com- 
 merce when the terrible iron-clads are infesting 
 every part of the Atlantic, and likely to be soon in 
 the Pacific? And what is to be done, when the 
 Yazoo is full of rams, and the " Nashville " runs 
 daily into every port in the South, and keeps them 
 supplied ynth the necessaries and luxuries of the 
 earth, which we so sadly want? 
 
 iV. Blockade them, catch them, sink them ; or, 
 at least, d,on't whine about them. 
 
 J. It is discouraging to think that we have now 
 been at war more than a year, and have accom- 
 plished nothing. On the other side, they threaten 
 to take Washington, and make a diversion on 
 Bunker Hill., And the sickness, too, appears to 
 be increasing, and all on our side. 
 
 If. You incorrigible bSte. Have you not taken 
 Norfolk and" Newbern, Pulaski and Pensacola, New 
 Orleans and the Mississippi, and twice as much 
 more? I never made so much progress in one 
 year in my conquest of Europe. And as for dis- 
 ease,— was I stopped by the plague at Cairo, or 
 prevented by the marsh fever from driving the 
 British out of Walcheren ? 
 
368 DIALOGUE. 
 
 J. But it seems that foreign intervention has at 
 last become inevitable. 
 
 N. There you have touched the thing with a 
 needle ! Foreign intervention in your quarrel ! I 
 should like to have a finger in that pie myself. L'et 
 us see. Prance and England make joint war upon 
 you. Grand expedition planned to your coast. 
 Sea covered with your privateers. Bread riots at 
 home. Disturbance among the makers of lace, 
 broadcloth, rails, linen, hardware, and rat-traps. 
 Suddenly I make a little private peace of my own, 
 and open my ports to Yankee cruisers, who bring 
 me in British manufactures, China tea-chests, Itidia 
 saltpetre, Australian gold, and — oh! ah! — what 
 was I dreaming of? — I was beginning to jump for 
 joy ; and here I am, deep under Pluto's hatches, 
 and powerless as my royal brother, Cotton. 
 
 J. King Cotton is burning himself like a Phoe- 
 nix, expecting to rise with a singed tail from his 
 own ashes. But his subjects hate us worse than 
 yours ever hated the English : they will never agree 
 to live with us again, — never, never. Would that 
 the good old Constitution were strong enough to 
 hold us all 'together! 
 
 N. Hark'ee, Jeremiah ! you have tried Constitu 
 tion on them long enough : they repudiate it, kick 
 it, spit upon it. They don't want the Constitution, 
 but the " institution." What if they do hate you ? 
 Just observe, man, — a few strong garrisons and 
 
DIALOGUE. 369 
 
 camps of observation have a wonderful effect in 
 nourishing the affections of such people. 
 
 J. But the niggers, the everlasting niggers. 
 
 N. If you want my opinion, Jerry, it is, that 
 the negroes make good slaves, but better soldiers. 
 Did not they drive my fine army of thirty thousand 
 men, under General Le Clerc, into the sea at St. 
 Domingo? At Magenta and Solferino, the most 
 desperate fighters were the Turcos, a set of double- 
 dyed darkies from the rear of Algeria. Did not 
 your General Jackson thank the blacks for their 
 bravery at New Orleans ? Look ye ! If I wish to 
 conquer a country, give me one that is half filled 
 with a disaffected population. 
 
 J. But you would not inaugurate 'the horrors of 
 a servile war. 
 
 N. There was a time when they could have kept 
 their slaves under the Constitution. But it begins 
 to look too late for that. A part will be emanci- 
 pated, a part perhaps exported, or a part perhaps 
 left in the hands of their masters if it should be 
 necessary to save them from idleness and starva- 
 tion. A restraint will no doubt be put on their 
 excesses. But, in the mean time, the grander ques- 
 tion, which involves the peace and happiness of 
 twenty-seven millions of your free white men, has 
 received a decision which now rings as a watch- 
 word from Maine to Kansas, " Crush the rebellion." 
 
 And the mountains and valleys of New Hampshire 
 
 24 
 
DIALOGUE. 
 
 and of California alike echo the resolute response, 
 " Put it through." Depend on it, they will do it, 
 Jerry, in spite of your croaking. 
 J. I think I feel better. 
 
THE DARK SIDE, THE BRIGHT SIDE, THE 
 PRACTICABLE SIDE * 
 
 We are discovering at last that the South are a dan- 
 gerous people. Warlike, audacious, needy, unscru- 
 pulous, individually disinclined and disqualified for 
 industrial pursuits, but both inclined and qualified 
 for war, rapine, and conquest, their separate exist- 
 ence is incompatible with the peace of the world. 
 Such men, in former times, inaugurated the dark 
 ages, and now control the miserable destinies of 
 Spanish America. There is no safety for civiliza- 
 tion, liberty, or human progress, but in their abso- 
 lute suppression. 
 
 This suppression can be efiected by a united 
 North and a war of moderate continuance, such as 
 those to which other nations have been accustomed 
 to submit. History tells of wars of ten years' and 
 of thirty years' duration ; but our war has not yet 
 lasted two years. The tremendous struggle of 
 England against France, beginning in 1793, and 
 lasting (with the brief exception of the peace of 
 Amiens) till the battle of Waterloo, in 1815, occu- 
 
 * From the Boston Daily Advertiser, 1862. 
 
 [371] 
 
372 THE DARK SIDE. 
 
 pied more than twenty-one years. And this was 
 a war of fluctuating fortunes, of fruitless and i-uin- 
 ous expenditures, of dislieartening failures and 
 defeats ; nevertheless manfully carried on, under 
 different and adverse administrations, with the un- 
 welcome accompaniments of the press-gang and the 
 tax-gatherer, of grinding imposts and unfathomable 
 debt, until England came out of it at last, perhaps 
 the most wealthy and powerful nation of the globe. 
 
 We have yet to learn, what every nation in 
 Europe has had to learn, that war, if not the normal 
 state of mankind, is nevertheless an endurable 
 state. It can be indefinitely borne by a nation, 
 conscious of its own power, the justice of its cause, 
 and the slow but sure decline of its adversary. The 
 South began this contest with abundance of food 
 and clothing, vrith ships and trade, with flourishing 
 commercial cities, and a great staple which was 
 indispensable to the civilized world. How many 
 of these things have they left to enjoy or to use at 
 the present time ? Certainly, if the progressive 
 impoverishment of the next year shall bear its due 
 proportion to that of the last ; if there is any thing 
 reliable in the bodings of their own newspapers ; 
 if the supporting of an immense army is ruinous to 
 a cramped and exhausted country ; if drawn bat- 
 tles, or even victories, shall leave them worse off 
 than before, — then the end of their career must be 
 only a question of time. 
 
THE BRIGHT SIDE. 373 
 
 Meanwhile the North is relatively rich, progres- 
 sive, and prosperous. The cities are busy, the 
 crops abundant, the markets prompt and remunera- 
 tive, the wages of labor high, the inducements for 
 immigration great; manufactures, commerce, and 
 agriculture all actively and profitably pursued ; the 
 taxation by no means excessive, when compared 
 with that of other nations ; and the national debt, 
 if it becomes large enough to reach posterity, sure 
 to constitute a firm, cementing bond of the Union. 
 
 The importance of the South has been overrated. 
 If the Southern States were swallowed up by an 
 earthquake, the world would be again supplied with 
 cotton in a few years. Cotton, as we know it, is an 
 annual plant, requiring for its production only seed, 
 soil, and necessity. The seed is always to be had ; 
 the soil constitutes a zone round the earth of some 
 seventy degrees ; the necessity is furnished by 
 starving Europe, and by the high price of cotton, 
 which now makes it by far the most profitable crop 
 that can be anywhere raised. 
 
 Two years more of vigorous war and blockade 
 will cause the world to supply itself with cotton, 
 without an earthquake. The hundred new places 
 which are now struggling to raise cotton, will be 
 five hundred next year. And, whenever the pro- 
 duction shall have once more overtaken the demand, 
 cotton will become a drug; and, if it ^hall ever 
 happen that the pacified South shall be able to 
 
374 THE PBACTICABLB SIDE. 
 
 return as before to the cultivation of cotton, it will 
 only be to render it still more a drug, exceeding in 
 that character all other kinds of property except 
 negro property, which wiU then not pay for keep- 
 ing- 
 It now seems probable that the future acts in the 
 drama of this war will be better adapted to our own 
 character and power, as well as to those of the 
 enemy, than they have hitherto been. We shall 
 make it a question of relative endurance, rather 
 than of enormous invasion and illimitable bloodshed. 
 There is no doubt that a Napoleon or a Pelissier 
 might take Richmond by the sacrifice of a hundred 
 thousand men ; but the prize would not be worth 
 the cost. On the other hand, how long can the 
 devastated fields and exhaiisted granaries of Vir- 
 ginia hold out in supporting the army of locusts 
 which now, in the character of defenders, infests 
 and devours them? Yet such an army must be 
 kept up in every Southern State to protect its 
 vulnerable points from the inroads which are made, 
 at comparatively little expense, on every coast and 
 river. 
 
 The policy, which under Washington carried us 
 through the Eevolution, will again carry us through 
 this war. The hot blood of the South may at times 
 prove more than a match for us in the onset of the 
 battle-field ; but it poorly bears the weary and con-, 
 suming influence of passive warfare, of labor wasted 
 
THE PRACTICABLE SIDE. 375 
 
 on trenches instead of crops, of starving families 
 deserted by drafted men, and left to the doubtful 
 fidelity of slaves, — of idle and marauding soldiers, 
 driven by hunger to plunder friends and foes, — of 
 factious and desperate parties, and the deferred 
 hope of a military empire founded on the wretched- 
 ness of the many for the benefit of the few. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Academic institutions, 3SS. 
 Academy of Arts and Sciences, 
 
 333. 
 Ashilles, 281. 
 
 Agassiz, Professor, 333, 351. 
 Allopathy, 218. 
 Amazon, River, 8. 
 Ambrose Par^, 169. 
 American Philosophical Society, 98. 
 American success, 3 1. 
 Ancient and modem studies, 87. 
 Andral, 153. 
 
 Andr^, Major, body of, 133. 
 Animalcular origin, 290. 
 Aphorisms on the War, 359. 
 Architecture, 70. 
 Artificial method, 219, 226. 
 Astronomy, 18. 
 Atkinson, Professor W., 20. 
 
 Bacon's philosophy, 43. 
 Bad effect of premature study, 7. 
 Beautiful and sublime, 28. 
 Belmont, 323. 
 Botanic physicians, 329. 
 Bowditch, Dr. N., 346. 
 Bowdoin, Governor, 342. 
 ' Brain overworked, 7. 
 Brookfield, North, 323. 
 Buckle, Mr., 33. 
 Burial of the dead, 119. 
 
 Caligo, what, 117. 
 Carlo Borromeo, 131. 
 Cattle disease, 295. 
 Causes of epidemics, 300. 
 Cemeteries, rural, 133. 
 Chance discoveries, 65. 
 
 Chemistry, growth of, 10. 
 Chiron the Centaur, 276. 
 Cholera, whether contagious, 287. 
 Cicero on Cataline, 51. 
 Classical studies, 47. 
 Classic languages, 22. 
 Climax of epidemics, 300. 
 Cochituate water, 137. 
 Cold, preservation by, 128. 
 Collegiate education, 19. 
 Columbia, Kiver, 8. 
 Contagion, 297, 323, 324. 
 Contagion of epidemics, 310. 
 Cotting, Dr. B. E., 245. 
 Cotton, King, 367. 
 Cotton, raising of, 372. 
 Cultivated mediocrity, 35. 
 Cure of diseases, 223. 
 Cutler, Dr., 341. 
 
 Dark ages, 43. 
 
 Dark side, &c., 370. 
 
 Dead languages, 64. 
 
 Death of Pliny, 111. 
 
 Decay of organized beings, 120. 
 
 Defeats, effect of, 361. 
 
 Destitution of last age, 3. 
 
 Dickens, Charles, 245. 
 
 Dighton rock, 341. 
 
 Disinfectants, 280. 
 
 Dryness, preservation by, 130. 
 
 Edinburgh Review, 45. 
 Education, self, 25, 27. 
 Edward I., King of England, 122. 
 Egyptian medicme, 285. 
 Elephant, extinct, 129. 
 Eloquence, 68. 
 
 [377] 
 
378 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Embalmiiig, 130. 
 Empirical remedies, 235, 
 England, medical men in, 215. 
 English universities, 81. * 
 Krysipelas, 162. 
 Esculapius, 278. 
 Etiology, 265. 
 Etymology, 73. 
 Exact sciences, 173. 
 Excess of classic studies, 78. 
 Exclusive method, 220, 233. 
 Expectant medicine, 828. 
 Expectant method, 219, 230. 
 Extreme doctrines, 217. 
 
 Fallacious practice, 183. 
 
 False definition, 177. 
 
 Female medicine, 288. 
 
 Fiction, 13. 
 
 Five thousand years unprogressive, 
 
 65. 
 Forbes, Sir John, 243, 246. 
 Frogs, fossil, 840. 
 
 Geography, growth of, 8. 
 Geology, growth of, 9. 
 Gilbert Blane, Sir, 171. 
 Gladstone, opinions of, 83. 
 Gothic architecture, 71. 
 Gould, A. A., Dr., 245. 
 Grecian architecture, 70. 
 Greek language, 22, 45. 
 Greeks, ancient, 21. 
 Greeks and Komans, 57. 
 Grotius, 85. 
 Growth of knowledge, 8. 
 
 Hanging Jews, 302. 
 Heniy VIII., King of England, 127. 
 Hereditary position, 32. 
 Heroic medicine, 275. 
 Heroic treatment, 227. 
 History, greatness of, 11, 13. 
 History of Medicine, 271. 
 Hobbes on dark ages, 43. 
 Homer, estimation of, 59. 
 Homeric studies, excess of, 85. 
 Homoeopathic method, 219, 281. 
 Homoeopathy, report on, 326. 
 Hooker, Worthington, Dr., 245. 
 Hooping-cough, 150. 
 Horsford, Professor, 186. 
 Hydropathy, 233. 
 
 Iliad, heroes of, 57. 
 
 Imperfect former knowledge, 8. 
 
 Imported cattle, 298. 
 
 Increase of books, 6. 
 Indian names, 74. 
 Inflections of language, 61. 
 Influenza, 290. 
 Inventions, 4. 
 Inventions, warlike, 30. 
 
 Jeffrey, Lord, 27. 
 
 Languages, various, 49. 
 Lnplacei 15. 
 Lead diseases, 189. 
 Lead pipes, action of water on, 187. 
 Learned professions, 17. 
 Liberal education, 16. 
 Light and heat, 103. 
 Living languages, 53. 
 Locomotion, means of, 8. 
 London, report on lead in, 141. 
 Lord Jeffrey, 27. 
 Louis, 167. , 
 
 Macaulay on Athens, 76. 
 Macaulay on the ancients, 41, 42. 
 Machaon, 280. 
 Master of Arts, 18. 
 Materia Medica, 75, 264. 
 Measles, 150. 
 Mecca, pilgrims to, 2S8. 
 Medical education, 263. 
 Medical etiquette, 209. 
 Medical literature; vast, 204. 
 Medicine, a conjectural art, 164. 
 Melmoth's Pliny, 114. 
 Metastatic diseases, 148. 
 Miller's History of Medicine, 271. 
 Misdirection of ancient taste 39. 
 Mitford's Greece, 76. 
 Modem discoverers, 64. 
 Modem poetry, 78. 
 Modern studies, 87. 
 Modem war enginery, 80. 
 Moorish architecture, 72. 
 Mount-Aubum Cemetery, 119. 
 Mummies, Egj'ptian, 130. 
 Mythology, ancient, 56. 
 
 Napoleon, 25. 
 
 Napoleon and Jeremiah, 364. 
 
 Natural gifts, 34. 
 
 Natural history, extent of, 10. 
 
 Neptune; planet, 364. 
 
 New England, .94. 
 
 New philosophy, 43. 
 
 Niger, Eiver, 9. 
 
 iJile, Eiver, 8. 
 
 Nineteenth century, 89. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 879 
 
 North, strength of, 372. 
 Numerical method, 244. 
 
 Orb, all-surrounding, 842. 
 Oyer practice, 217. 
 
 Palliation of diseases, 224. 
 
 Panic, popular, 317. 
 
 Paradise of doctors, 251. 
 
 Paroxysmal diseases, 148. 
 
 Pathology, 264. 
 
 Periodical literature, 16. 
 
 Peter the Great, 25. 
 
 Pharmacy, 75. 
 
 Philberto, Vernatti, Sir, 344. 
 
 Philologj', 14. 
 
 Physical instrumentalities, 63. 
 
 Physick, Dr., 207. 
 
 Pickering, John, 347. 
 
 Pleuro-pneumonia, 295. 
 
 Pliny the elder. 111. 
 
 Poetry, 68. 
 
 Poisoned wells, 297. 
 
 Polypharmacy, 242. 
 
 Popular panic, 317. 
 
 Precocity of Americans, 200. 
 
 Predisposition, 2S9, 299. 
 
 Preparatory education, 18. 
 
 Present increase of knowledge, 4. 
 
 Preservation of organic nature, 121. 
 
 Priessnitz, 233. 
 
 Priestly medicine, 282. 
 
 Frimseval Chersonese, 273. 
 
 Printing press, 63. 
 
 Professions, learned, 17. 
 
 Progress of improvement, 4. 
 
 Pronunciation doubtful, 55. 
 
 Proportion of bulk and strength, 6. 
 
 Pseudo-sciences, 13. 
 
 Quackery, 210. 
 
 Bailroad train, 28. 
 Kational medicine, 238. 
 Kational method, 220, 236. 
 Reformation, the, 63. 
 Benaissance of letters, 61. 
 Kevolution of society, 63. 
 Keynolds, Dr. Edw., 245. 
 Robinson Crusoe, 23. 
 Roman youth sent to Greece, 23. 
 Royal Institution, 98. 
 Royal Society, 98, 344. 
 Bumford, Count, 90. 
 
 Safe-conduct of sick, 225. 
 Saturn, 353. 
 
 Scarlet fever, 151. 
 
 School system of New England, 7. 
 
 Schumacher, Professor, 352. 
 
 Sculpture, 69. 
 
 Selection and subdivision, 16. 
 
 Self-education, 25, 27. 
 
 Self-limited diseases, 143, 145. 
 
 Semi-barbarism of last age, 2. 
 
 Ship fever, 325. 
 
 Sidney Smith's opinions, 81. 
 
 Slaudbter of cattle, 801, 806. 
 
 Small-pox, 152. 
 
 Smith, Dr. Nathan, 157. 
 
 South Carolina, 360. 
 
 South, decline of, 371, 373. 
 
 Specific remedies, 219. 
 
 Steamship, 28. 
 
 Street cars, 16. 
 
 Subdivision and selection, IS. 
 
 Sublime and beautiful, 28. 
 
 Success in the world, 25. 
 
 Sudden discoveries, 67. 
 
 Summary of discovery, 44. 
 
 Surgery, 229. 
 
 Swallows disappearing, 340. 
 
 Tanquerel on lead diseases, 139. 
 Taste in architecture, 72. 
 Technology, 1, 2. 
 Telegraph, 28. 
 Telephus, 281. 
 Terminology, 74. 
 Therapeutics, 265. 
 Therapeutics, failure of, 144. 
 Tbonipsonian physicians, 329. 
 Thoth, 284. 
 
 Three centuries of Christian era, 46. 
 Trade of medicine, 178. 
 Translation, effect of, 24. 
 Treatment of disease, 173. 
 Troy, siege of, 29. 
 Typhoid fever, 153. 
 
 Unity of disease, 236. 
 Utilitarian studies, 28. 
 
 Value of diagnosis, 180. 
 Vesuvius, eruptions of, 112. 
 Virginia, 8^9. 
 
 War, endurable, 371. 
 Wars of history, 370. 
 Watering-places, 235. 
 Winthrop, Governor John, 98. 
 Witches, burning of, 302. 
 
 " Young Physic," 248. 
 

 \