An Ethical Problem

                           By the Same Author

RAMBLES IN JAPAN WITHOUT A GUIDE.  London, 1892

ILLEGITIMACY, and

THE INFLUENCE OF SEASONS UPON CONDUCT.  London and New York, 1893

VIVISECTION IN AMERICA.  New York, 1895

THE VIVISECTION QUESTION.  New York, 1901

THE MORALITY OF LONDON.  London, 1908

THE VIVISECTION CONTROVERSY.  London, 1908

AMERICAN MEAT.  London and New York, 1910

                           AN ETHICAL PROBLEM

                                   OR

     SIDELIGHTS UPON SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTATION ON MAN AND ANIMALS

                                   BY

                        ALBERT LEFFINGWELL, M.D.

           LATE PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAN HUMANE ASSOCIATION
               AUTHOR OF "THE VIVISECTION QUESTION," ETC.

                        SECOND EDITION, REVISED

                                 LONDON
                         G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.

                                NEW YORK
                   C.P. FARREL, 117 EAST 21st STREET

                                  1916

                                PREFACE

The position taken by the writer of this volume should be clearly
understood.  It is not the view known as antivivisection, so far as
this means the condemnation without exception of all phases of
biological investigation.  There are methods of research which involve
no animal suffering, and which are of scientific utility.  Within
certain careful limitations, these would seem justifiable.  For nearly
forty years, the writer has occupied the position which half a century
ago was generally held by a majority of the medical profession in
England, and possibly in America, a position maintained in recent
years by such men as Sir Benjamin Ward Richardson of England, by
Professor William James and Dr. Henry J. Bigelow of Harvard
University.  With the present ideals of the modern physiological
laboratory, so far as they favour the practice of vivisection in
secrecy and without legal regulation, the writer has no sympathy
whatsoever.

An ethical problem exists.  It concerns not the prevention of all
experimentation upon animals, but rather the abolition of its cruelty,
its secrecy, its abuse.

Written at various times during a period extending over several years,
a critic will undoubtedly discover instances of repetition and
re-statement.  Now and then, it has seemed advisable to include matter
from earlier writings, long out of print; and new light has been
thrown upon some phases of a perplexing problem.  Will it tend to
induce conviction of the need for reform?  Assuredly, this is not to
be expected where there is disagreement regarding certain basic
principles.  First of all, there must be some common ground.  No
agreement regarding vivisection can be anticipated or desired with any
man who holds that some vague and uncertain addition to the sum total
of knowledge would justify experiments made upon dying children in a
hospital, without regard to their personal benefit, or sanction the
infliction of any degree of agony upon animals in a laboratory.

A liking for the use of italics as a means of directing attention to
certain statements is confessed.  But wherever such italicized phrases
appear in quotations, the reader should ascribe the emphasis to the
writer, and not to the original authority.

The inculcation of scepticism regarding much that is put forth in
justification of unlimited research is admitted.  It seems to the
writer that anyone who has become interested in the question would
more wisely approach it with a tendency toward doubt than toward
implicit belief; to doubt, however, that leads one directly to
investigation.  We need to remember, however, that inaccuracy by no
means connotes inveracity.  There is here no imputation against the
honesty of any writer, even when carelessness, exaggeration and
inaccuracy are not only alleged, but demonstrated to exist.
                                                        A. L.
  Aurora, N.Y.,
     1914

                        ---------

                PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

Another edition of this work being called for, the opportunity for one
or two emendations is afforded.

In the first chapter of the present work, reference is made to the
antivivisection societies of England, and, relying upon evidence given
before the Royal Commission in 1906, one of them is mentioned as the
"principal organization." The relative standing or strength of the
different societies at the present time would appear not to be
determined or easily determinable, and, of course, what was fact in
1906 may not be at all true ten years later.  The matter would seem to
be of little importance as compared with the greater questions
pertaining to reform; but in the interest of accuracy the author would
now prefer to make no pronouncement concerning the relative rank of
the English societies, leaving decision as to precedence to those who
give them financial support.

Though the first edition of the present work was quite large, yet no
challenge of the accuracy of any of its statements concerning
experimentation upon human beings or animals has yet appeared.  To
hope for absolute accuracy in a work of this character may be
impossible; yet that ideal has been constantly before the writer.
Should any errors of the kind be discovered to exist in the present
edition, their indication is sincerely desired.

In the chapter "Unfair Methods of Controversy" some illustrative cases
were given without mention, now and then, of the persons criticized.
It seemed to the writer that in certain instances it should be quite
sufficient to point out and to condemn inaccuracies and errors
without bringing upon the record every individual name.  No
misunderstanding could possibly exist, since the references were ample
in every case.  But since this reticence, in at least one instance,
has been criticized by an unfriendly reviewer, it is perhaps better to
state that the repeated allusions to Lord Lister's journeyings to
France, and the article in Harper's Monthly for April, 1909, were from
the pen of the author of Animal Experimentation--a work which is
reviewed in the Appendix to the present edition.  To his advanced
age--now far beyond the allotted span--we may ascribe the inaccuracies
which, at an earlier period of his career, would doubtless have been
recognized.

                                                        A. L.

                        CONTENTS

CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
       INTRODUCTION     -       -       -       -       -   xi

    I. WHAT IS VIVISECTION?     -       -       -       -    1
   II. ON CERTAIN MISTAKES OF SCIENTISTS        -       -   12
  III. AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY VIVISECTOR -       -       -   22
   IV. MAGENDIE AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES  -       -       -   29
    V. A VIVISECTOR'S REMORSE   -       -       -       -   47
   VI. IS TORTURE JUSTIFIED BY UTILITY?         -       -   57
  VII. THE COMMENCEMENT OF AGITATION    -       -       -   66
 VIII. ATTAINMENT OF REGULATION IN ENGLAND      -       -   88
   IX. A GREAT PROTESTANT       -       -       -       -  113
    X. THE VIVISECTION REPORT OF 1912   -       -       -  127
   XI. THE ANAESTHETIC DELUSION         -       -       -  149
  XII. THE VIVISECTION OF TO-DAY        -       -       -  162
 XIII. WHAT IS VIVISECTION REFORM?      -       -       -  196
  XIV. THE WORK OF REFORM SOCIETIES     -       -       -  216
   XV. UNFAIR METHODS OF CONTROVERSY    -       -       -  228
  XVI. RESEARCH WITHOUT VIVISECTION     -       -       -  254
 XVII. THE FUTURE OF VIVISECTION        -       -       -  276
XVIII. THE FINAL PHASE: EXPERIMENTATION ON MAN          -  289
  XIX. CONCLUSION       -       -       -       -       -  326

       APPENDIXES       -       -       -       -     333-364C
       INDEX            -       -       -       -      365-369
       PRESS NOTICES    -       -       -       -      371-374

                        INTRODUCTION

It is now somewhat over a third of a century since my attention was
specially directed to the abuses of animal experimentation.  In
January, 1880, a paragraph appeared in a morning paper of New York
referring to the late Henry Bergh.  With his approval a Bill had come
before the legislature of the State of New York providing for the
abolition of all experiments upon living animals--whether in medical
colleges or elsewhere--on the ground that they were without benefit to
anybody, and demoralizing alike to the teacher and student.  As I
dropped the paper, it occurred to me that the chances of success would
have been far greater if less had been asked.  That certain
vivisections were atrocious was undoubtedly true; but, on the other
hand, there were some experiments that were absolutely painless.
Would it not be wiser to make some distinctions?

The attempt was made.  An article on the subject was at once begun,
and in July of the same year it was published in Scribner's Magazine,
the predecessor of the Century.  So far as known, it was the first
argument that ever found expression in the pages of any American
periodical favouring not the entire abolition of vivisection, but the
reform of its abuse.

My knowledge of vivisection had its beginning in personal
experience.  Nearly forty years ago, while teaching the elements of
physiology at the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn, it occurred to me
to illustrate the statements of textbooks by a repetition of such
simple experiments as had come before my own eyes.  Most of my
demonstrations were illustrative of commonplace physiological
phenomena: chloroform was freely used to secure unconsciousness of the
animal, and with the exception of one or two demonstrations, the
avoidance of pain or distress was almost certainly accomplished.

But what especially impressed me at the time was the extraordinary
interest which these experiments seemed to excite.  Students from
advanced classes in the institute were often spectators and voluntary
assistants.  Of the utility of such demonstrations as a means of
fixing facts in memory, I could not have the slightest doubt.  Nor as
regards the rightfulness of vivisection as a method either of study or
demonstration, was there at that period any question in my mind.
Whatever Science desired, it seemed to me only proper that Science
should have.  The fact that certain demonstrations or experiments upon
living animals had already been condemned as unjustifiable cruelty by
the leading men in the medical profession, and by some of the
principal medical journals of England, was then as utterly unknown to
me as the same facts are to-day unknown to the average graduate of
every medical school in the United States.  It was not long until
after this early experience, and following acquaintance with the
practice in Europe as well as at home, that doubts arose regarding the
justice of CAUSING PAIN TO ILLUSTRATE FACTS ALREADY KNOWN.  These
doubts became convictions, and were stated in my first contribution to
the literature of the subject, the paper in Scribner's.  It is not the
position of what is called "antivivisection," for that implies
condemnation of every phase of animal experimentation.  In the third
of a century that has elapsed since this protest was made, the
practice of vivisection has taken vast strides: it appears in new
shapes and unanticipated environment.  But the old abuses have not
disappeared, and some of them, more urgently than ever before, demand
the attention of thinking men and women.

Of personal contributions to the literature of the subject, during the
past third of a century, nearly everything has been more or less
polemical, called forth by either exaggeration of utility, inaccuracy
of assertion, or misstatement of fact.  Now it has been protest
against the brilliant correspondent of a New York newspaper, who
telegraphed from London an account of a visit to a well-known
physiological laboratory, where he found animals all "fat, cheerful,
and jolly," yet "quite unaffected by the removal of a spinal cord"--as
sensible a statement as if he had referred to their jolly condition
"after removal of their heads." Now it has been the manifesto of
professors in a medical school declaring that in the institution to
which they belonged no painful experiments had been performed--an
assertion abundantly contradicted by their own publications.  Now it
is a Surgeon-General of the Army, defending one of the most cruel of
vivisections in which he was not in any way concerned, by an
exposition of ignorance regarding the elements of physiology; and,
again, it has been a President of a medical association, making a
speech, wherein hardly a sentence was not stamped with inaccuracy and
ignorance.  To some natures controversy is exhilarating; to  myself it
is beyond expression distasteful.  Yet, when confronted by false
affirmations, what is one's duty? To say nothing? To permit the
untruth to march triumphantly on its way? Or, in the interest of
Science herself, should not one attempt the exposure of inaccuracy,
and the demonstration of the truth?

Approaching the end of a long pilgrimage, it has seemed to me worth
while to make a final survey of the great question of our time.  How
was the cruelty of vivisection once regarded by the leading members of
the medical profession? Shall we say to-day that the utility of
torment, in the vivisection of animals, constitutes perfect
justification and defence? How far did Civilization once go in the
approval of torture because of its imagined deterrent effects?

What has been accomplished by the agitation concerning vivisection
which has persisted for the last forty years? Has the battlefield been
well selected? Have demands of reformers been wisely formulated? Is
public opinion to-day inclined to be any more favourable to the legal
abolition of all scientific experimentation upon animals than it was a
third of a century ago?

What has been the result of vivisection in America, unrestricted and
unrestrained? Has it accomplished anything for the human race that
might not have been accomplished under conditions whereby cruelty
should be impossible except as a crime? Has the death-rate been
reduced by new discoveries made in American laboratories? Is it
possible that utility is persistently exaggerated by those who are not
unwilling to use exaggeration as a means of defence? And of the
Future, what are the probabilities for which we may hope? What is
being done in our century in the way of submitting animals to
unlimited torture?

To throw somewhat of light on these questions is the object of this
volume.  I wish it had been in my power to write a more extended and
complete exposition of the problem, but limitations of strength, due
to advancing age, have made that hope impracticable.  But as one man
drops the torch, another hand will grasp it; and where now is darkness
and secrecy, there will one day be knowledge and light.

                        AN ETHICAL PROBLEM

                            CHAPTER I

                        WHAT IS VIVISECTION?

Upon no ethical problem of our generation is the public sentiment of
to-day more uncertain and confused than in its attitude toward
vivisection.  Why this uncertainty exists it is not very difficult to
discern.  In the first place, no definition of the word itself has
been suggested and adopted sufficiently concise and yet so
comprehensive as to include every phase of animal experimentation.  It
is a secret practice.  Formerly more or less public, it is now carried
on in closed laboratories, with every possible precaution against the
disclosure of anything liable to criticism.  Quite apart from any
questions of usefulness, it is a pursuit involving problems of the
utmost fascination for the investigating mind--questions pertaining to
Life and Death--the deepest mysteries which can engage the intellect
of mankind.  We find it made especially attractive to young men at
that period of life when their encouraged and cultivated enthusiasm
for experimentation is not liable to be adequately controlled by any
deep consideration for the "material" upon which they work.  Sometimes
animal experimentation is painless, and sometimes it involves
suffering which may vary in degree from distress which is slight to
torments which a great surgeon has compared to burning alive, "the
utmost degree of prolonged and excruciating agony." By some, its
utility to humanity is constantly asserted, and by others as earnestly
and emphatically and categorically denied.  Confronted by
contradictory assertions of antagonists and defenders, how is the
average man to make up his mind? Both opinions, he reasons, cannot
possibly be true, and he generally ranges himself under the banner of
the Laboratory or of its enemies, according to his degree of
confidence in their assertions, or his preference for the ideals which
they represent.

Now, the object of all controversy should be to enable us to see facts
as they are--to get at the truth.  That difference of opinion will
exist may be inevitable; for opinions largely depend upon our ideals,
and these of no two individuals are precisely the same.  But so far as
facts are concerned, we should be able to make some approach to
agreement, and especially as regards the ethical supremacy of certain
ideals.

But first of all we need to define Vivisection.  What is it?

Originally implying merely the cutting of a living animal in way of
experiment, it has come by general consent to include all scientific
investigations upon animals whatsoever, even when such researches or
demonstrations involve no cutting operation of any kind.  It has been
authoritatively defined as "experiments upon animals calculated to
cause pain." But this would seem to exclude all experimentation of a
kind which is not calculated to cause pain; experiments regarding
which all the "calculation" is to avoid pain; as, for example, an
experiment made to determine the exact quantity of chloroform
necessary to produce death without return of consciousness.  The
British Royal Commission of 1875 defined it as "the practice of
subjecting live animals to experiments for scientific purposes,"
avoiding any reference to the infliction of pain; yet, so far as
pertains to the justification of vivisection, the whole controversy
may turn on that.  Any complete definition should at least contain
reference to those investigations to which little or no objection
would be raised, were they not part of the "system." It should not
omit reference, also, to those refinements of pain-infliction for
inadequate purposes--also a part of a "system," and which, to very
distinguished leaders in the medical profession, have seemed to be
inexcusable and wrong.

Suppose, then, we attempt a definition that shall be inclusive of all
phases of the practice.

"Vivisection is the exploitation of living animals for experiments
concerning the phenomena of life.  Such experiments are made, FIRST,
for the demonstration, before students, of facts already known and
established; or, SECOND, as a method of investigation of some theory
or problem, which may be with or without relation to the treatment of
human ailments.  Such experiments may range from procedures which are
practically painless, to those involving distress, exhaustion,
starvation, baking, burning, suffocation, poisoning, inoculation with
disease, every kind of mutilation, and long-protracted agony and
death."

A definition of this kind will cover 99 per cent. of all experiments.
The extreme pro-vivisectionist may protest that the definition brings
into prominence the more painful operations; yet for the majority of
us the only ground for challenging the practice at all is the pain,
amounting to torment in some cases, which vivisection may involve.
They are rare, some one says.  But how do we know? The doors of the
laboratory are closed.  Of practices secretly carried on, what can we
know? That every form of imaginable torment has at some time been
practised in the name of Science, we may learn from the reports of
experimenters themselves, and from the writings of men who have
denounced them.  It was Dr. Henry J. Bigelow, of Harvard University,
the most eminent surgeon of his day, who declared that vivisection
sometimes meant the infliction of "the severest conceivable pain, of
indefinite duration," and that it was "a torture of helpless animals,
more terrible, by reason of its refinement, than burning at the
stake." Is the above definition of vivisection stronger than is
implied by this assertion of Dr. Bigelow?

We need constantly to remember that vivisection is by no means a
simple act.  It may indicate investigations that require no cutting
operation of any kind, and the infliction of no pain; or, on the other
hand, it may denote operations that involve complicated and severe
mutilations, and torments as prolonged and exquisite as human
imagination can conceive.  Experiments may be made, in course of
researches, of very great interest and importance to medical science;
and, on the contrary, they may be performed merely to demonstrate
phenomena about which there is no doubt, or to impress on the memory of
a student some well-known fact.  They may be performed by men like Sir
Charles Bell, who hesitated to confirm one of the greatest
physiological discoveries of the last century, merely because it would
imply a repetition of painful experiments; and they may be done by men
like Magendie, who declared of his mutilated and tormented victims,
that it was "DROLL to see them skip and jump about." It is because of
all these differences that the majority of men have an indefinite
conception of what they approve or condemn.  The advocate of
unrestricted vivisection sometimes tells us that experimentation
implies no more pain than the prick of a pin, and that its results are
of great utility to the human race; the antivivisectionist, on the
other hand, may insist that such experimentation means inconceivable
torment without the slightest conceivable benefit to mankind.  Both
are right in the occasional significance of the word.  Both are wrong
if one meaning is to answer for all varieties of experimentation upon
living things.

Some years ago the attempt was made to obtain the view of animal
experimentation held by certain classes of intelligent men and women.
One view of the practice is that which regards it merely as a method
of scientific research, with which morality has no more to do than it
would have in determining in what direction a telescope should be
pointed by an astronomer, or what rocks a geologist should not venture
to touch.  A statement embodying the views of those who favour
unrestricted vivisection included affirmations like these:

"Vivisection, or experimentation upon living creatures, must be looked
at simply as a method of studying the phenomena of life.  With it,
morality has nothing to do.  It should be subject neither to
criticism, supervision, nor restrictions of any kind.  It may be used
to any extent desired by any experimenter--no matter what degree of
extreme or prolonged pain it may involve--for demonstration before
students of the statements contained in their textbooks, as an aid to
memory,....or for any conceivable purpose of investigation into vital
phenomena.... While we claim many discoveries of value,....yet even
these we regard as of secondary importance to the freedom of unlimited
research."

This is the meaning of free and unrestricted vivisection.  Its
plainness of speech did not deter very distinguished physiologists and
others from signing it as the expression of their views.  One can
hardly doubt that it represents the view of the physiological
laboratory at the present day.  Sixty years ago this view of
vivisection would have found but few adherents in England or America;
to-day it is probably the tacit opinion of a majority of the medical
profession in either land.  One may question whether any similar
change of sentiment in a direction contrary to reform has ever
appeared since Civilization began.  We shall endeavor to show,
hereafter, to what that change is due.

Absolutely opposed to this sentiment are the principles of what is
known as "antivivisection." According to this view, all vivisection is
an immoral infringement upon the rights of animals.  The cruelties
that accompany research will always accompany it, until all scientific
experimentation upon animals is made a criminal offence.  From a
statement of opinion giving expression to this view, the following
sentences are taken:

"All experimentation upon living animals we consider unnecessary,
unjustifiable, and morally wrong.... Even if utility could be proved,
man has no right to attempt to benefit himself at the cost of injury,
pain, or disease to the lower animals.  The injury which the practice
of vivisection causes to the moral sense of the individual and to
humanity far outweighs any possible benefit that could be derived from
it.  Dr. Henry J. Bigelow, Professor in the Medical School of Harvard
University, declared that `vivisection deadens the humanity of the
students.' Nothing which thus lowers morality can be a necessity to
progress.... Painless or painful, useless or useful, however severe or
however slight, vivisection is a practice so linked with cruelty and
so pernicious in tendency, THAT ANY REFORM IS IMPOSSIBLE, and it
should be absolutely prohibited by law for any purpose."

This is antivivisection.  It is a view of the practice which has
seemed reasonable to large numbers of earnest men and women whose
lives in various directions have been devoted to the prevention of all
kinds of cruelty, and to the promotion of the best interests of the
race.  When this view is maintained by men and women who oppose the
killing of animals for purposes of food or raiment or adornment, or
their exploitation in any way which demands extinction of life, it is
entirely consistent with high ideals.  It is against this view that
the arguments of those who contend for vivisection, without
restriction or restraint, are always directed.

But even among antivivisectionists there are, naturally, differences
of opinion.  For instance, the National Antivivisection Society, the
principal organization of England, desires to see vivisection totally
abolished by law; but, meanwhile, it will strive for and accept any
measures that have for their object the amelioration of the condition
of vivisected animals.  On the other hand, the British Union for the
Total Abolition of Vivisection will accept nothing less than the legal
condemnation of every phase of such experiments. "Vivisection," the
secretary of this society writes, "is a system, and not a number of
isolated acts to be considered separately.  Owing to its intricate and
interdependent character and the international competition involved,
USE CANNOT BE SEPARATED FROM ABUSE." In other words, every conceivable
phase of scientific experimentation upon living creatures, even if
absolutely painless, should be made a legal offence.

But we are not driven to accept one or the other of these definitions
of animal experimentation.  A third view of vivisection exists, which
differs widely from either of these opposing ideals.  Instead of
taking the position of the antivivisectionist that ALL scientific
investigations involving the use of animals, should be legally
prohibited, it maintains that distinctions may, and should, be drawn,
and that only the abuses of vivisection should be condemned by law.
It asks society neither to approve of everything, nor to condemn
everything, but to draw a line between experiments that, by reason of
utility and painlessness, are entirely permissible, and others which
ought assuredly to be condemned.  It makes no protest against
experimentation involving the death of an animal where it is certain
that consciousness of pain has been abolished by anaesthetics; but it
condemns absolutely the exhibition of agony as an easy method of
teaching well-known facts.  The utility of certain experiments it does
not question; but even increase of knowledge may sometimes be
purchased at too high a price.  From a statement of this position
regarding vivisection, drawn some years since, the following sentences
may be of interest:

"Vivisection is a practice of such variety and complexity, that, like
warfare between nations, one can neither condemn it nor approve it,
unless some careful distinctions be first laid down.... Within certain
limitations, we regard vivisection to be so justified by utility as to
be legitimate, expedient, and right.  Beyond these boundaries, it is
cruel, monstrous, and wrong.... We believe, therefore, that the common
interests of humanity and science demand that vivisection, like the
study of human anatomy in the dissecting-room, should be brought under
the direct supervision and control of the State.  The practice,
whether in public or in private, should be restricted by law to
certain definite objects, and surrounded by every possible safeguard
against license or abuse."

This is a statement of what is meant by vivisection reform.  Every
unprejudiced mind can see at once that it is not the same as
antivivisection.  Is it the enemy of science? The leading name affixed
to this declaration of principles was that of the late Herbert
Spencer, the chief apostle of modern science.  Is it against the
interests of education? It was signed by eleven presidents of American
universities and colleges, and by a large number of men closely
connected with institutions of learning.  Is it antagonistic to
medical science and art? The statement received the endorsement of
twice as many physicians and surgeons as were favourable to
experimentation upon animals without any restriction or restraint; and
among these physicians favourable to reform were men of national
reputation.  No one should expect that men whose sole profession is
experimentation of this character would approve of any limitations to
their activity in any direction; but they constitute only a small
fraction of human society.  Outside their ranks we may be confident
that there are very few, at all acquainted with the subject, who will
not concede that in the past many things have been done in this
exploitation of animal life which are greatly to be deplored.  Is
there, then, no method of prevention? Are we simply to fold our hands
and trust that the humaner instincts of the present-day vivisector,
working in the seclusion of his private laboratory, will keep him free
from all that we regret in the vivisection of the past? Or must we, on
the other hand, ask for the total condemnation of every experiment,
because some are cruel and atrocious?

This is the platform of the Restrictionist.  It cannot--except by
perversion of truth--be regarded as antivivisection, for there is not
a single society in England or America, devoted to the interests of
that cause, which would acknowledge these views as in any way
representative of its ideals; but it is the expression of sentiments
which formerly were almost universally held by the medical profession
of England.  Yet the advocates of unrestricted vivisection have never
been willing to consider this position, and, in controversy,
invariable fall back upon arguments applicable only to the views of
those who would abolish vivisection altogether.

There is yet another position to be taken; it is the attitude of
unconcern.  From vast numbers nothing better can be expected.  The man
who is utterly indifferent to the unnecessary agony accompanying the
slaughter of animals for food, or to the cruelties of sport, or the
woman whose vanity demands sacrifices of animals at the cost of
incalculable suffering, will take little or no interest in the
question of vivisections; nor is complicity with other phases of
torment and cruelty alone responsible for the indifference which so
generally exists.  In every age, from the twilight of earliest savagery
down to the present time, the vast majority of human beings have been
inclined, not to doubt, but to believe, and especially to believe
those who claimed superior knowledge in matters of Life and Death.
This tendency to unquestioning faith has been the support of every
phase of injustice, of cruelty, and of wrong.  It has led to
innumerable men and women of education and refinement to remit all
questions of animal experimentation to the vivisector and his friends,
precisely as they would have done had they lived three centuries ago,
and had it been theirs to decide on the morality of burning a witch.
On the other hand, the alliance between the laboratory and the medical
profession, their mutual endeavour to stifle criticism and to induce
approval of all vivisection whatever, has given rise to a new spirit
of inquiry.  A moral question is never absolutely decided until it is
decided aright.  If the problem of vivisection is ever settled, it
will be due, not to the influence of those who advocate unquestioning
faith in the humaneness of the average experimenter, who decline
inquiry, and who rest satisfied with their ignorance, but rather to
those who, having investigated the question for themselves, have given
all their influence for some measure of reform.  In questions of
humanity, even the unwisdom of enthusiasm that tends toward reform is
far better than indifference and unconcern.

The ignorance of history, shown often by the advocates of unlimited
vivisection, is a singular phenomenon.  The beginnings of this
controversy are not without interest.  Let us glance at them.

                           CHAPTER II

                ON CERTAIN MISTAKES OF SCIENTISTS

Every reflecting student of history is struck by the divergence of
opinions manifest among educated men in regard to the great problems
of life.  Why is it that so few of us are able to state the facts and
arguments which favour conclusions to which we are utterly opposed?
Take, for instance, the great question of religious belief.  Can one
refer to any Protestant writer of our time who has placed before his
readers the arguments which inclined men like Newman or Manning to the
Catholic faith? Has any Catholic writer of our time been able to
present fairly the arguments which seem so overwhelmingly convincing
to Protestant thinkers? In either case, is there not something of
distortion or exaggeration? Certainly it cannot be due to intentional
and perverse obliquity of mental vision.  As a rule reasonable men
endeavour to be just and fair.  Now and then, in the heat of
controversy, a tendency to overstatement or exaggeration may be
evident, especially where great issues appear to be involved; but
the purpose can be reconciled with honesty.  Is it not more than
probable that the principal reason for divergent views on the part of
honest opponents is IGNORANCE OF FACTS?

Take, for example, the opinion held to-day by the great majority of
young physicians concerning animal experimentation.  As a rule they
regard all criticism of vivisection with infinite contempt.  During
their medical studies they were continually imbued with the idea that
the opposition to laboratory freedom of experimentation was an
agitation of comparatively recent date, and confined to a small class
of unthinking sentimentalists.  Of that strong protest against cruel
experiments which made itself heard more during more than a century,
and of the atrocities which led to that protest, the average physician
of to-day knows nothing whatever.  Plunged into the practice of a
profession which may absorb every moment of time, he has perhaps
neither leisure to investigate nor disposition to doubt whatever he
has been told.

Now, if the average student of medicine is thus ignorant of history,
is it not because those who have taught him were equally devoid of
knowledge of the facts? Of the history of the vivisection controversy
previous to 1875, some of the most distinguished men in the medical
profession have proved themselves profoundly ignorant.  Illustrations
of this lack of information might be almost indefinitely adduced, but
I propose to bring forward only a few instances typical of their kind.

On June 10, 1896, Dr. Henry P. Bowditch, then professor of physiology
in Harvard Medical School, delivered an address on vivisection before
the Massachusetts Medical Society.  The character of his audience, and
the profession of the speaker, might be presumed to give assurance of
absolute accuracy concerning any question of historic fact.  A quarter
century before, Dr. Bowditch had studied physiology in German
laboratories  Returning to America in 1871, he had been given the
opportunity of reorganizing the teaching of physiology at Harvard
Medical School, so as to bring it into conformity with Continental
methods.  It is quite probable that to him, more than to any other
person, is due the introduction of Continental methods of
physiological instruction in the medical colleges of the United
States.

According to Dr. Bowditch, the criticism of vivisection in England
began in 1864.  To his audience of physicians he made the following
statement:

"The first serious attack upon biological research in England seems to
have been made in an essay entitled `Vivisection: is it Necessary or
Justifiable?' published in London in 1864, by George Fleming, a
British veterinary surgeon.  This essay is an important one, for
although characterized at the time by a reviewer in the London
Athenaeum as `ignorant, fallacious, and altogether unworthy of
acceptance,' its blood-curdling stories, applied to all sorts of
institutions, have formed a large part of the stock-in-trade of
subsequent vivisection writers."

The sneering reference to "blood-curdling stories" is of itself
extremely significant.  It indicates unmistakably the utter contempt
which nearly every physiologist feels for the sentiment of humaneness
which underlies protest against experimental cruelty.  The speaker
omitted to tell his audience that this essay of Dr. Fleming received
the first prize offered by the "Royal Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals," and that the Committee which decided the merits
of the essay included some of the most eminent scientific men of
England, among them Sir Richard Owen and Professor Carpenter--the
latter one of the most distinguished of English physiologists of his
time.  He forgot to add that if the examples of atrocious vivisection
given in this essay were horrible--as they were--yet every instance
was substantiated by reference to the original authorities, and that
their accurate quotation could not be impugned.  Especially curious is
the fact that Professor Bowditch placed the beginning of criticism at
1864.  Of the arraignment of cruel vivisections by English physicians
and English medical journals before that time, Dr. Bowditch apparently
never heard, and all the infamous atrocities which they condemned he
dismissed with a sneer as "blood-curdling stories." Yet, in his day,
the speaker was one of the leading physiologists of the United
States.  We cannot believe that the suppression of material facts was
intentional; it was due rather to complete ignorance of the history of
that protest against physiological cruelty which England witnessed
during the first part of the nineteenth century, and of which some
account shall follow.

Take another instance.  In the International Journal of Ethics for
April, 1904, there appeared an article in defence of animal
experimentation by Professor Charles S. Myers of the University of
Cambridge, England.  Of any abuses of the practice, Dr. Myers gave his
readers no reason for believing that he had ever heard; and as an
indication, perhaps, of an animal's eagerness to be vivisected, he
tells us that "again and again dogs have been observed to wag the tail
and lick the hands of the operator even immediately before the
beginning of the operation." Commenting upon the singular conclusion
which this fact seemed to suggest to Dr. Myers, the present writer
quoted a sentence or two from an editorial which once appeared in the
columns of the London Lancet.[1] It would apparently seem that
Dr. Myers brought the quotation to the attention of someone in the
editorial office of the Lancet, on whose judgment he thought he might
safely rely; for, in a reply, he refers to it as a quotation
"attributed to the editor of the Lancet, which, AFTER SPECIAL INQUIRY,
I HAVE REASON FOR DOUBTING." Concerning a reference to some of
Dr. Sydney Ringer's experiments upon patients in a London hospital, he
is even more confident that they could never have occurred, and
indignantly rejoins, "I unhesitatingly declare SUCH ABOMINABLE
ACCUSATIONS TO BE FALSE."

[1] See p. 73 for this Lancet editorial.

Now, all this indignant scepticism was rather creditable to the
writer's heart.  That an English medical journal like the Lancet
should denounce vivisection cruelties, or that a reputable London
physician should experiment on his patients with various poisons,
seemed to Dr. Myers beyond the bounds of belief.  But it is always a
serious thing positively to deny any historical reference simply
because of personal ignorance of its truth.  It was quite easy to
refer the sceptic not only to the editorial which he thought he "HAD
REASON FOR DOUBTING," but also to the experiments on human beings
concerning which his indignation rose so high.  To be ignorant of
Dr. Ringer's experiments on his patients is to be ignorant of the
history of modern medicine.  The Medical Times (London) in its issue
of November 10, 1883, thus editorially commented upon certain of these
experiments:

"...In publishing, and, indeed, in instituting their reckless
experiments on the effect of nitrite of sodium on the human subject,
Professor Ringer and Dr. Murrill have made a deplorably false
move.... It is impossible to read the paper in last week's Lancet
without distress.  Of the EIGHTEEN adults to whom Drs Ringer and
Murrill administered the drug in 10-grain doses, all but one averred
that they would expect to drop down dead if they ever took another
dose.... Whatever credit may be given to Drs. Ringer and Murrill for
scientific enthusiasm, it is impossible to acquit them of grave
indiscretion.  There will be a howl throughout the country IF IT COMES
OUT THAT THE OFFICERS OF A PUBLIC CHARITY ARE IN THE HABIT OF TRYING
SUCH USELESS AND CRUEL EXPERIMENTS ON THE PATIENTS COMMITTED TO THEIR
CARE."[1]

[1] In all quotations, here and elsewhere throughout this volume, the
italics have been supplied.

What but ignorance of the history of medicine during the last fifty
years could lead any one to deny the occurrence of experiments, the
proofs of which rest on statements in medical journals, and in the
published works of the experimenters themselves?

One of the most singular statements concerning vivisection that ever
appeared in print was given out not many years ago by one of the
professors of physiology in Harvard Medical School.[2] The accuracy of
this manifesto--which purported to be "a plain statement of the whole
truth"--received the endorsement of five of the leading teachers of
science in the same institution, men whose scientific reputation would
naturally give great weight to their affirmations regarding any
question of fact.  So impressed was the editor of the Boston
Transcript with the apparent weight of this testimony, that he
declared in its columns that "the character and standing of the men
whose names are given as responsible for this explanation to the
Boston public, FORBID ANY QUESTIONING OF ITS STATEMENT OF FACTS." What
is the value of authority in matters of science, if assertions so
fortified by illustrious names are to be received with doubt?

[2] See "The Vivisection Question," pp. 114-133 and 253.

The inaccuracy which characterized this "statement of the whole truth"
was demonstrated at the time it appeared; but to one paragraph
attention may be recalled.  The manifesto touches the question of past
cruelties in animal experimentation, not merely without the slightest
criticism or condemnation, but, on the contrary, with what would seem
to be a definite denial that anything reprehensible had ever
occurred.  It contemptuously referred to evidence of abuses, as "these
reiterated charges of cruelty, THESE LONG LISTS OF ATROCITIES THAT
NEVER EXISTED." What other meaning could the average reader obtain
than the suggestion that the cruelties of Spallanzani, of Magendie, of
Mantegazza, of Brown-Se'quard, of Brachet, and a host of others,
existed only in the imagination, AND HAD NO BASIS OF FACT? For this
astounding suggestion, what explanation is possible? That there was a
deliberate purpose to mislead the public by an affirmation that cruel
and unjustifiable experiments were a myth, the creation of
imagination, is an hypothesis we must reject.  But there must have
been a stupendous ignorance concerning the past history of animal
experimentation.  Simply because of their utter lack of knowledge
regarding history, distinguished scientists became responsible for
suggesting to the public that the story of the past cruelty of
vivisection was a myth, and unworthy of belief.

While illustrations of this singular ignorance of the past might be
almost indefinitely multiplied, another example must for the present
suffice.  It is afforded by the evidence given before the Royal
Commission of Vivisection in 1906, by Sir William Osler, M.D., Fellow
of the Royal Society, and Regius Professor of Medicine at the
University of Oxford.  In the course of his examination, the following
dialogue occurred:[1]

"Are you familiar with the writings of Dr. Leffingwell?"
"Yes."
"I think he points out that it was through the strong attacks that
appeared in the Lancet and the British Medical Journal that the
Vivisection Act was passed?"
"THAT IS NEWS TO ME."
"You do not know that?"
"NO."

[1] Minutes of Evidence, Questions 16,780-16,782.

Perhaps the question asked may have implied somewhat more of influence
on the part of the medical journals named than actually belonged to
them; but these periodicals certainly initiated that exposure and
condemnation of cruelty in vivisection--which in England led to an
agitation for reform.  Sir William Osler's replies, however, suggest
something more than mere word-fencing; he was evidently surprised to
hear it intimated that medical journals like these could ever have
been found attacking vivisection in any way.  Of the strong attacks
which appeared in these organs of medical opinion less than forty
years before, he had apparently never heard.  Now, when men like
these, leaders in the formation of public opinion on medical matters,
are thus ignorant of history, ought one really to wonder at the lack
of knowledge on the same subject betrayed by the new generation of
physicians in active practice to-day--men not only of lesser
influence, but of more restricted opportunities for gaining
information? Ninety-nine out of every hundred of the physicians
engaged in medical instruction in England and America probably would
have replied to the questions asked Sir William Osler to the same
effect--"It is news to me." Sitting at their feet, how can pupils be
expected to do otherwise than to absorb both their prejudices and
their learning? How can any medical student distinguish between them?
We are all inclined to give implicit faith to men whose abilities in
any direction we admire and reverence.  It is only with the advance of
years and the test of experience that men come to learn the distrust
of authority, the wisdom of doubt, and the value of personal inquiry
concerning every great problem of life.

Suppose, then, that we look into this question.  Was Professor
Bowditch correct in assigning the beginnings of criticism concerning
vivisection to Dr. Fleming's essay published in 1864? Or was its
origin long before? Were the professors of the Medical School accurate
of statement when they practically denied that cruelty in vivisection
was a historic fact, and endorsed a reference to authenticated
instances as "long lists of atrocities THAT NEVER OCCURRED"? Is it a
fact--although Dr. Myers of Cambridge and Sir William Osler of Oxford
apparently never heard of it--that it was the MEDICAL journals of
England whose indignant condemnation of vivisection cruelties led up
to its attempted regulation by law? The public assumes that
authorities like these are not likely to err concerning methods of
medical instruction or research.  In the mind of the average man,
every prepossession is in their favour; he cannot easily bring himself
to believe that if cruelty ever existed, THEY should be so completely
ignorant of it.  It may, indeed, be questioned whether in the
literature of controversy on the subject there has been a single
defender of unrestricted freedom in vivisection, who has intelligently
referred to the horrible experiments of past vivisectors except either
to sneer or to condone.  Even Mr. Stephen Paget, in his recent work,
"Experiments upon Animals," never once condemned the cruelty that but
a generation ago excited indignation throughout the medical profession
of Great Britain.

The truth of this matter is not to be attained by unquestioning
acceptance of authority, but by a study of the history of the past.
It would be impossible, except in a volume, to write a complete
history of that protest against the unjustifiable cruelties of animal
experimentation, which gradually led to a demand for their legal
suppression.  All that may here be attempted is a demonstration that
the sentiment is not of recent origin; that more than a century ago
the cruelties, which to-day are so carefully ignored, were
unquestioned as facts, and that to medical journals of England is
principally due that weighty condemnation of cruel vivisection, which
probably more than any other influence was the foundation of the
agitation for vivisection reform.

                AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY VIVISECTOR

English literature during the eighteenth century presents no more
distinguished name than that of Dr. Samuel Johnson, the lexicographer
and essayist.  His learning was immense; his judgments and criticisms
were everywhere regarded with respect; and, above other great men of
his time, he was fortunate in having as friend and companion one who
produced the best biography that the world has ever known.

Dr. Johnson's views of vivisection and vivisectors appeared as a
contribution to the Idler, on August 5, 1761, more than a hundred
years before the date given by Professor Bowditch as that of "THE
FIRST SERIOUS ATTACK UPON BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH IN ENGLAND." It may,
nevertheless, be doubted whether any attack more "serious" or protest
more weighty was ever made than was written by the most eminent
literary man of his time, a century and a half ago.

"Among the inferior professors of medical knowledge is a race of
wretches whose lives are only varied by varieties of cruelty; whose
favourite amusement is to nail dogs to tables and open them alive; to
try how long life may be continued in various degrees of mutilation,
or with the excision or laceration of vital parts; to examine whether
burning irons are felt more acutely by the bone or tendon; and whether
the more lasting agonies are produced by poison forced into the mouth
or injected into the veins.  It is not without reluctance that I
offend the sensibility of the tender mind with images like these.  If
such cruelties were not practised, it were to be desired that they
should not be conceived; but since they are published every day with
ostentation, let me be allowed once to mention them, since I mention
them with abhorrence.... The anatomical novice tears out the living
bowels of an animal, and styles himself a `physician'; prepares
himself by familiar cruelty for that profession which he is to
exercise upon the tender and helpless, upon feeble bodies and broken
minds, and by which he has opportunities to extend his arts and
tortures, and continue those experiments upon Infancy and Age which he
has hitherto tried upon cats and dogs.  What is alleged in defence of
these hateful practices, everyone knows; but the truth is that by
knives and fire knowledge is not always sought, and is very seldom
attained.  I know not that by living dissections any discovery has
been made by which a single malady is more easily cured.  And if the
knowledge of physiology has been somewhat increased, he surely buys
knowledge dear who learns the use of the lacteals at the expense of
his own humanity.  IT IS TIME THAT A UNIVERSAL RESENTMENT AGAINST
THESE HORRID OPERATIONS SHOULD ARISE, which tend to harden the heart,
and make the physician more dreadful than the gout or the stone."

A more vigorous denunciation of the cruelty of vivisection never
appeared than these words of the first scholar of the English-
speaking world.  Of course the plea will be put forth that in
Dr. Johnson's time the use of anaesthetics was unknown.  Are we, then,
to conclude that the present-day defenders of absolute freedom in
animal research would join him in condemning the perpetrators of ALL
EXPERIMENTS CAUSING DISTRESS IN WHICH ANAESTHETICS CANNOT BE EMPLOYED?
For the merit of Dr. Johnson's plea lies in this, THAT HE MAKES
ETHICAL CONSIDERATIONS OF HIGHER IMPORTANCE THAN THE DISCOVERY OF
PHYSIOLOGICAL FACTS. "If the knowledge of physiology has been somewhat
increased, he surely buys knowledge dear who learns the use of the
lacteals at the expense of his own humanity." Is there a physiological
defenders of vivisection-freedom living to-day who would accept
Dr. Johnson's conclusion, that one should forbear research which is
possible only by the infliction of animal torment? How unfair it is,
therefore, to suggest that the force of Dr. Johnson's argument is
invalidated because anaesthetics were unknown--when the disagreement
is infinitely deeper!

To what physiologists of his time did Dr. Johnson allude? Apparently
his denunciation was sweeping; he referred to "a race of wretches"
rather than to any particular individual, and to experiments then
carried on and "published every day with ostentation." Who were the
men thus stigmatized? We do not know.  The record of their useless
tormenting has sunk into the oblivion that hides their names; there
are but one or two whose identity may perhaps be guessed.  It is
possible that one of them was John Hunter; yet Hunter did not go up to
London until 1764, and Dr. Johnson's condemnation had appeared three
years earlier.  Still, this does not preclude the possibility that
Dr. Johnson had Hunter in his mind.

In some ways John Hunter was a remarkable man.  He made an anatomical
collection, which is still in existence and which bears his name.  At
Earl's Court, then a suburb of London, he established a sort of
zoological Inferno, that reminds one of the "Island of Dr. Moreau."
One of his biographers, Ottley, tells us that Hunger "TOOK SUPREME
DELIGHT" in his physiological experiments; and inasmuch as he
suggested in a letter to a friend the performance of the most
agonizing experiments as likely to "amuse" him, the statement was
undoubtedly true.  A man's occupation generally has an influence upon
his character, and Hunter's biographer rather hesitatingly admits that
"he was not always very nice in his choice of associates," and that
among his companions were certain abominable wretches known as
"resurrection men," who robbed graveyards for the benefit of students
of anatomy.  Under all circumstances, we can hardly be surprised that
his married life was anything but serene.

In the infliction of pain he seems to have been without any idea of
pity.  To a friend who asked for his experience in a certain matter,
he wrote:

"I thank you for your experiment on the hedgehog; but WHY DO YOU ASK
ME A QUESTION, by the way of solving it? I think your solution is
just, but why--WHY NOT TRY THE EXPERIMENT? Repeat all the experiments
upon a hedgehog as soon as you receive this, and they will give you
the solution.  TRY THE HEAT.  CUT OFF A LEG...and let me know the
result of the whole.
                                        "Ever yours,
                                             "JOHN HUNTER."

Even his own word, or the result of his own observations, he did not
wish to have accepted, when, merely at the cost of another tortured
animal, his friend could find the answer for himself.  Is not this the
physiological ideal of to-day?

Again he writes to his scientific friend:

"If you could make some experiments on the increased heat of
inflammation, I should be obliged to you.... I opened the thorax of a
dog between two ribs, and introduced the thermometer.  Then I put some
lint into the wound to keep it from healing by the first intention,
THAT THE THORAX MIGHT INFLAME; but before I had time to try it again,
my dog died on the fourth day.  A deep wound might be made into the
thick of a dog's thigh, then put in the thermometer and some
extraneous matter.... IF THESE EXPERIMENTS WILL AMUSE YOU, I should be
glad they were made; but take care you do not break your thermometer
in the dog's chest."[1]

[1] Barron's "Life of Jenner," i. 44.

"IF THESE EXPERIMENTS WILL AMUSE YOU"--what a suggestive confirmation
of Dr. Johnson's charge that the torture of vivisection was then
regarded as an "amusement"! A century after, an Italian physiologist,
Mantegazza, devoted a year to the infliction of extreme torment upon
animals, and confessed that his tortures were inflicted, not with
hesitation or repugnance, but "CON MULTO AMORE," with extreme
delight.[2]

[2] "Fisiolgia del Dolore di Paulo Mantegazza," pp. 101-107.

Hunter does not seem to have regarded his own experiments other than
as an intellectual pastime.  Mr. Stephen Paget, in his work on "Animal
Experimentation," refers to "one great experiment...that puts him
[Hunter] on a line with Harvey"--an experiment upon a deer in Richmond
Park.  There is no reason for doubting that such an experiment may
have been made; but the curious thing is, that it rests only on verbal
tradition, for in his surgical lectures treating of aneurism Hunter
has not a word to say of the experiment which now, we are told, "links
his name with that of Harvey," who made known the circulation of the
blood.  His biographer, Ottley, referring to his surgical operation
for aneurism, tell us that "he was led to propose the improved method,
in consequence of the frequent failure of the operation by the old
mode." No reference whatever is made to the legendary experiment on
the stag in Richmond Park.[1]

[1] Ottley's "Life of Hunter," p. 97.

Of other experiments by Hunter we know more.  Sometimes his
observations were of a character that illustrates his environment.  In
his "Observations" Hunter tells us that at one time, on going to bed
at night, he "observed bugs, marching down the curtains and head of
the bed; of those killed, NONE had blood in them." In the morning "I
have observed them marching back, and all such were found FULL OF
BLOOD!"[2] A wonderful discovery for a philosopher to record, leaving
unmentioned the one experiment and observation by which his fame is to
be linked with that of Harvey!

[2] Letter to Ottley, "Life," p. 89.

Hunter had erroneous views on various matters of science.  He believed
that there was "no such thing as a primary colour, every colour being
a mixture of two, making a third." He tells us that he once formed a
theory that if a human being were completely frozen, "life might be
prolonged a thousand years, he might learn what had happened during
his frozen condition."[3] His biographer, Ottley, alludes to this
theory of Hunter's as "a project which, if realized, he expected would
make his fortune."[4] With this not altogether admirable object in
view, his experiments upon freezing animals were doubtless made.  A
dormouse, confined in a cold mixture, he tells us, "showed signs of
great uneasiness; sometimes it would curl itself into round form to
preserve its extremities and confine the heat, and finding that
ineffectual, would then endeavor to escape." Its feet were at last
frozen, but Hunter could not freeze the entire animal because of the
protection afforded by the hair.  How should the scientist overcome
this difficulty? He pondered over the problem; then made a dormouse
completely wet over, and placed it in the freezing-mixture.  The
wretched animal "made repeated attempts to escape," but without avail,
and finally became quote stiff.  Alas, for the grand "fortune"!
Hunter tells us that "on being thawed, it was found quite dead!"[1]

[3] "Lectures," i. 284.
[4] Ottley's "Life of Hunter," p. 57.
[1] Hunter's Works, vol. iv., p. 133.

The influence of Hunter upon English biology was undoubtedly very
great.  In a mean and sordid society, he was an enthusiast for the
acquisition of knowledge, and while his passion for physiology
induced--as it so often does--an indifference regarding the infliction
of pain, his pitiless vivisections were not more cruel than
experiments made in this twentieth century, and some of them by men of
national reputation.  He was the type of the class of experimenters
whom Dr. Johnson had in his mind, men whose long practice in the
infliction of torment creates an indifference to the ordinary emotions
of humanity, so that even in the causation of agony they find
something "to amuse," and in the performance of the most painful
vivisection an occasion for "supreme delight."

                        CHAPTER IV

                MAGENDIE AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES

It may be doubted whether any physiologist has ever lived whose
cruelty to animals exceeded that which, for a long period, was
exercised by Franc,ois Magendie.  Born at Bordeaux, France, in 1783,
just before the beginning of the French Revolution, he studied
medicine, receiving his medical degree in the year 1808.  Entering
with some zest upon the study of physiology, he published several
pamphlets regarding his investigations, and rapidly earned that
notoriety--which for some natures is the equivalent of fame--for the
peculiar and refined torments which, in public demonstrations, he took
frequent occasion to inflict.  In 1821 he was elected a member of the
Institute; in 1831 he had become a professor in the College de France,
a position he held for the remainder of his life.  He died in 1855.

One of the earliest exposures of Magendie's infamous vivisections was
made in the British Parliament.  On February 24, 1825, Mr. Richard
Martin of Galway, an Irish Member of the House of Commons, moved to
bring in a Bill for the repression of bear-baiting and other forms of
cruelty to animals.  His name is worth remembering, for to this
Richard Martin belongs the honour of being one of the first men in any
land who attempted to secure some repression of cruelty to animals
through the condemnation of the law.  During his speech on this
occasion Mr. Martin said:

"It was not merely bear-baiting and sports of a similar character that
he wished to abolish; there were other practices, equally cruel, with
which he thought the legislature ought to interfere.  There was a
Frenchman by the name of Magendie, whom he considered a disgrace to
Society.  In the course of the last year this man, at one of his
anatomical theatres, exhibited a series of experiments so atrocious as
almost to shock belief.  This M. Magendie got a lady's greyhound.
First of all he nailed its front, and then its hind, paws with the
bluntest spikes that he could find, giving as reason that the poor
beast, in its agony, might tear away from the spikes if they were at
all sharp or cutting.  He then doubled up its long ears, and nailed
them down with similar spikes.  (Cries of `Shame!')  He then made a
gash down the middle of the face, and proceeded to dissect all the
nerves on one side of it.... After he had finished these operations,
this surgical butcher then turned to the spectators, and said: `I
have now finished my operations on one side of this dog's head, and I
shall reserve the other side till to-morrow.  If the servant takes
care of him for the night, I am of the opinion that I shall be able to
continue my operations upon him to-morrow with as much satisfaction to
us all as I have done to-day; but if not, ALTHOUGH HE MAY HAVE LOST
THE VIVACITY HE HAS SHOWN TO-DAY, I shall have the opportunity of
cutting him up alive, and showing you the motion of the heart.'
Mr. Martin added that he held in his hands the written declarations of
Mr. Abernethy, of Sir Everard Home (and of other distinguished medical
men), all uniting in condemnation of such excessive and protracted
cruelty as had been practised by this Frenchman."[1]

[1] Hansard's Parliamentary Reports, February 24, 1825.

Within the past forty years has the cruelty of Magendie been condemned
by any English or American physiologist? I have never seen it.

The objection is sometimes raised that evidence like this of
Magendie's cruelty is only "hearsay." Is not this generally the case
where inhumanity is concerned? When Wilberforce described the
atrocities of the African slave trade, or Shaftesbury the conditions
pertaining to children in coal-mines and cotton mills, their
statements were equally questioned; yet, when reform had been
accomplished, nobody doubted that, although they had not personally
witnessed the cruelties, they had reported only the facts.  Now, one
peculiarity of Magendie's vivisections WAS THEIR PUBLICITY.  There was
no attempt at concealment, such as governs the practice in England and
America to-day.  Magendie's experiments were publicly made, seemingly
with a desire to parade his contempt for any sentiment of compassion
towards animals.  The evidence of Magendie's cruelty is supported by
an overwhelming amount of evidence, and to Mr. Martin's account of his
vivisections, none of Magendie's English friends or apologists ever
ventured to reply in the public journals of the day.

An English physician, Dr. John Anthony, a pupil of Sir Charles Bell
and a strong advocate of vivisection, has given us a little account of
his personal experience in 1838, while a student of medicine in
Paris.  The English members of his class, he says, "were indignant at
the CRUELTIES which we saw manifested IN THE DEMONSTRATION OF
EXPERIMENTS ON LIVING CREATURES.... What I saw in Paris pointed to
this: that very frequently men who are in the habit of making these
experiments are very careless of what becomes of the animal when it
has served its purpose; ... the animal is thrown (aside) to creep into
a corner and die.... I have carefully avoided seeing experiments in
vivisection after the awful dose which I had of it in Paris, in 1838.
THE MEN THERE SEEMED TO CARE NO MORE FOR THE PAIN OF THE CREATURE
BEING OPERATED UPON THAN IF IT WERE SO MUCH INORGANIC MATTER."[1]

[1] Vivisection Report, 1876, Questions 2,347, 2,447, 2,582.

Another witness of Magendie's cruelty was Dr. William Sharpey, LL.D.,
Fellow of the Royal Society, and for more than thirty years the
professor of physiology in University College, London.  It is a
curious fact that the "Handbook of the Physiological Laboratory,"
which, when published in 1871, increased the agitation against
vivisection, was dedicated to Professor Sharpey.  Before the Royal
Commission on Vivisection, in 1876, he gave the following account of
his personal experience:

"When I was a very young man, studying in Paris, I went to the first
of a series of lectures which Magendie gave upon experimental
physiology; and I was so utterly repelled by what I witnessed that I
never went again.  In the first place, they were painful (in those
days there were no anaesthetics), and sometimes they were severe; and
then THEY WERE WITHOUT SUFFICIENT OBJECT.  For example, Magendie made
incisions into the skin of rabbits and other creatures TO SHOW THAT
THE SKIN IS SENSITIVE! Surely all the world knows the skin is
sensitive; no experiment is wanted to prove that.  Several experiments
he made were of a similar character, AND HE PUT THE ANIMALS TO DEATH,
FINALLY, IN A VERY PAINFUL WAY.... Some of his experiments excited a
strong feeling of abhorrence, not in the public merely, but among
physiologists.  There was his--I was going to say `famous' experiment;
it might rather have been called `INFAMOUS' experiment upon vomiting
.... Besides its atrocity, it was really purposeless."[2]

[2] Evidence before Royal Commission, 1875, Questions 444, 474.

Of Magendie's cruelty we have thus the evidence of the best-known
English physiologist of his day.  Even by his own countrymen
Magendie's pitilessness was denounced.  Dr. Latour, the founder and
editor of the leading medical journal of France--L'Union Me'dicale--
has given us an incident which occurred in his presence, translations
of which appeared in the editorial columns of the London Lancet and
the British Medical Journal, August 22, 1863.

"I recall to mind a poor dog, the roots of whose vertebral nerves
Magendie desired to lay bare to demonstrate Bell's theory, which he
claimed as his own.  The dog, already mutilated and bleeding, twice
escaped from under the implacable knife, and threw his forepaws around
Magendie's neck, licking, as if to soften his murderer and ask for
mercy! Vivisectors may laugh, but I confess I was unable to endure
that heartrending spectacle."[1]

[1] The London Lancet, August 22, 1863.

The proof of Magendie's ferocious cruelty to his victims seems
overwhelming. "In France," says Dr. George Wilson, "some of the most
eminent physiologists have gained an unenviable notoriety as PITILESS
TORTURERS, ... experimenters who would not take the trouble to put out
of pain the wretched dogs on which they experimented, even after they
had served their purpose, but left them to perish of lingering torture
.... It is pleasing to contrast the merciless horrors enacted by
Magendie"--with the reluctance manifested by Sir Charles Bell.[2]
Dr. Elliotson, in his work on Human Physiology, states that "Magendie
cut living animals here and there, with no definite object BUT TO SEE
WHAT WOULD HAPPEN."[3] In a sermon on cruelty to animals, preached at
Edinburgh, March 5, 1826, by the Rev. Dr. Chalmers, the speaker
especially alludes to "THE ATROCITIES OF A MAGENDIE," then recently
made known in England.  The President of the Royal College of
Surgeons, Sir James Paget, once testified that Magendie "disgusted
people very much BY SHOWING CONTEMPT FOR THE PAIN OF ANIMALS."[1] The
great scientist, Charles Darwin, in a letter to the London Times, made
reference to Magendie as a physiologist "NOTORIOUS, half a century
ago, FOR HIS CRUEL EXPERIMENTS." "It is not to be denied that
inhumanity may be found in persons of very high position as
physiologists.  WE HAVE SEEN THAT IT WAS SO IN MAGENDIE." This is the
language of the final report of the Commission, to which was affixed
the name of Professor Thomas Henry Huxley, the most brilliant
scientific writer of the last century.

[2] Wilson's "Life of Reid," p. 165.
[3] "Human Physiology," p. 428.
[1] Evidence before Royal Commission, 1875, Question 371.

Magendie left us a singularly truthful estimate of his own character
and of his scientific accomplishments when he declared himself to be
simply "a street scavenger (un chiffonier) of science.  With my hook
in my hand and my basket on my back, I ramble about the streets of
science and gather up whatever I can find." The comparison was
singular, but it was apt; he was, indeed, the ragpicker of
physiology.  With a scavenger's sense of honour he endeavored to rob
Sir Charles Bell of the credit for his discovery concerning the
functions of the spinal nerves, by a prodigality of torment, from
which the nobler nature of the English scientist instinctively
recoiled.  When there came to him an opportunity of experimenting on
man, he embraced it with avidity, and again and again, while operating
for cataract, plunged his needle to the bottom of the patient's eye,
that he might learn the effect of mechanical irritation of the
delicate organ of sight.[1] Some rags and tatters of physiology he
bought--at the price of immeasurable torment--and held them up for the
admiration of his contemporaries; but in the great conflict with
disease and death it may be questioned whether he added a single fact
that has increased the potency of medical art, the length of human
life, or the sum of human happiness.

[1] Magendie naturally had no hesitancy in telling of these
experiments made upon his patients "at the clinique of my hospital."
See his "Elementary Treatise on Physiology" (translated by Dr. John
Revere). New York, 1844, p. 64.

Such was Franc,ois Magendie, physiologist and torturer, judged by
scientific men and physiologists of a higher race, to whom compassion
was not unknown.  For undisguised contempt of pity, for delight in
cruelty, for the infliction of refined and ingenious torment, he may
have been equally by some who followed and imitated him, but certainly
he was never surpassed.

Another distinguished French chiffonier in the slum-districts of
scientific exploration was Dr. L. J. Brachet, a contemporary of
Magendie.  In his day he was a man of extended reputation as a
vivisector of animals.  His principal work is entitled: "Recherches
Expe'rimentales de Syste`me Nerveux...par J. L. Brachet, Membre de
l'Acade'mie Royale de Me'decine" and member of similar academies at
Berlin, Copenhagen, and elsewhere; member of various medical societies
of Paris, Lyons, Bordeaux, and Marseilles--the title-page of his book
records his fame.  It will be of interest to study the character of
the experimentation, recorded by himself, upon which rests his
eminence as a scientific man.

His first great "discovery" unfortunately has not yet been accorded
scientific acceptance. "It is little," he says, "to have proven the
existence of sensibility in animals; I have proven that sensation
pertains not merely to animals, but that it also is the property of
vegetables--in a word, OF EVERYTHING THAT LIVES.  Everywhere it acts
in the same manner, through the nerves.  The entire vegetable kingdom
possesses the sense of feeling" (tous les vegetaux possedent la
faculte de sentier).[1]

[1] "Recherches," etc., p. 13.

Had Brachet confined himself solely to experiments on the sensibility
of plants, we should have little to criticize.  Unfortunately,
however, his scientific tastes led him in another direction.  He
belonged to a class of men who cannot permit the most apparent fact to
be taken for granted, when, at the cost of torment, it may be
demonstrated--men like Magendie, who insisted on proving to his
students that an animal could really feel pain by stabbing it with his
knife before commencing his experiment.  Brachet's problem was a
simple one.  We all know, for instance, that an animal--a dog--may
feel an intense dislike to some particular person.  Why? Because of
impressions conveyed to the brain of the animal by the senses of sight
and hearing.  Outside an asylum for idiots, it is probable that no one
ever questioned the fact.  Brachet, however, would not permit his
readers to accept any statement merely upon the general experience of
mankind, when it might be proven scientifically, and he has described
in his book the experiments by which he claims to have demonstrated
his theory.

"EXPERIMENT 162.--I inspired a dog with the strongest possible hatred
for me by teasing it and inflicting upon it some pain every time I saw
it.  When this feeling had reached its height, so that the animal
became furious whenever it saw or heard me, I put out its eyes [je
lui fis crever les yeux].  I could then appear before it without its
manifesting any aversion.  I spoke, and immediately its barkings and
furious movements permitted no doubt of the rage which animated it.

"I then destroyed the drum of the ears, and disorganized as much as I
could of the inner ear.  When the intense inflammation thus excited
had rendered it almost deaf, I filled its ears with wax, and it could
hear me no longer.  Then I could stand by its side, speak to it in a
loud voice, and even caress it, without awakening its anger; indeed,
it appeared sensible of my caresses! There is no need to describe
another experiment of the same kind, made upon another dog, since the
results were the same."

By this great experiment, what valuable knowledge was conveyed? Simply
that a dog, deprived of sight and hearing, will not manifest antipathy
to a man it can neither see nor hear!

A true vivisector is never at a loss to invent excuse or occasion for
an experiment.  Dr. Brachet had made it clear that a dog will not
manifest antipathy toward an enemy whose presence it cannot perceive;
but suppose such a mutilated creature, in its darkness and silence,
were subjected to some sharp and continuous physical pain, what then
would happen? He proceeded to ascertain:

"EXPERIMENT 163.--I began the experiment on another dog by putting out
its eyes [par crever les yeux], and breaking up the internal ears.
Ten days later, THE SUFFERING OF THE ANIMAL HAVING APPARENTLY CEASED,
after assuring myself that it could no longer see nor hear, I made a
sore in the middle of its back.  EVERY MOMENT I IRRITATED THIS WOULD
BY PICKING IT WITH A NEEDLE [a chaque instant j'irritai sa plaie en la
piquant avec un aiguillon].  At first the dog did nothing but yelp and
try to escape, but the impossibility of this FORCED HIM UNCEASINGLY TO
RECEIVE EXCRUCIATING PAIN; and finally the dog passed into a state of
frenzy so violent, that at last it could be induced by touching any
part of its body.... The dog had no reason of hatred against any
individual; ... both sight and hearing had been destroyed; and many
persons the animal had never seen, provoked its rage by irritating the
wound."

Of such an abominable experiment, however scientific it may appear, it
is difficult to speak with restraint.  To the average man or woman it
will probably seem that nothing more fiendish or cruel can be found
anywhere in the dark records of animal experimentation.  Dr. Brachet
was no obscure or unexperienced vivisector.  At one time he was the
professor of physiology in a medical school; he was a member of many
learned societies at home and abroad.  But think of an educated man
procuring a little dog and deliberately putting out its eyes; then
breaking up the internal ear, so that for many days the animal must
have endured excruciating anguish from the inflammation thus induced;
next, when the pain had somewhat subsided, creating a sore on the back
by removal of the skin; and then, after comfortably seating himself in
his physiological laboratory by the side of his victim, scientifically
picking, and piercing, and pricking the wound, without respite--
constantly, without ceasing--until the blinded and deafened and
tortured creature is driven into frenzy by torments which it felt
continually, which it could not comprehend, and from which, by no
exertion, it was able to defend itself! Think of the scientist asking
many other learned men to join him from time to time in the
experiment, and to take part in picking at the wound, in tormenting
the mutilated and blinded victim, and in driving it again and again to
the madness of despair! Does anyone say that such an experiment could
not be made to-day? In one of the largest laboratories of America, and
within ten years, an experiment equally cruel, equally useless, has
been performed.  The modern defender of unrestricted vivisection
distinctly insists that no legal impediment should hinder the
performance of any investigation desired by any experimenter.  It was
the editor of the British Medical Journal who once declared that
"whoever has not seen an animal under experiment CANNOT FORM AN IDEA
OF THE HABITUAL PRACTICES OF THE VIVISECTORS."[1] This accords with
the statement of Dr. Henry J. Bigelow, for forty years connected with
Harvard Medical School, that, aside from motives, painful vivisection
differed mainly from other phases of cruelty "in being practised by an
educated class, who, having once become callous to its objectionable
features, find the pursuit an interesting occupation, under the name
of Science."

[1] British Medical Journal, September 19, 1863 (leading editorial)

And this was the case of Brachet.  HE HAD BECOME CALLOUS.  He found
torment "an interesting occupation, under the name of Science." May
there not be others in our day to whom the same criticism is only too
applicable?

One of the English critics of the abuses of vivisection a century ago
was Dr. John Abernethy of London, a Lecturer on Physiology at the
Royal College of Surgeons, the founder of the medical school attached
to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and the most distinguished surgeon in
Great Britain during the first quarter of the nineteenth century.
Abernethy was by no means an antivivisectionist; he insisted upon the
utility of certain demonstrations, but he was profoundly opposed to
those cruelties of research which, in our day, by the modern school of
physiologists, are either forgotten or condoned.  curiously enough,
one of his strongest utterances against such cruelty was made in one
of his lectures on physiology.  Therein he said:

"There is one point I feel it a duty to advert to.  Mr. Hunter, whom I
should not have believed to have been very scrupulous about inflicting
suffering upon animals, nevertheless censures Spallanzani for the
unmeaning repetition of similar experiments.  Having resolved publicly
to express my own opinions with regard to the subject, I choose the
present opportunity, BECAUSE I BELIEVE SPALLANZANI TO HAVE BEEN ONE OF
THOSE WHO HAVE TORTURED AND DESTROYED ANIMALS IN VAIN.  I do not
perceive that in the two principal subjects which he has sought to
elucidate he has added any important fact to our stock of knowledge;
and, besides, some of his experiments are of a nature that a good man
would blush to think of, and a wise man would have been ashamed to
publish."[1]

[1] "Physiological Lectures," London, 1817, p. 164.

This is a unique expression.  One may be absolutely certain that no
professor of physiology during the past forty years has thus openly
condemned in a physiology lecture any of his contemporaries for the
cruelty of their experiments.

In his Life of Abernethy, his biographer, Dr. Macilwain, refers to
experiments upon living animals, "WHICH ARE SO REVOLTING FROM THEIR
CRUELTY, that the mind recoils from the contemplation of them." This,
too, is a noteworthy utterance, coming from one who was a
distinguished London surgeon and a Fellow of the Royal Society.  In a
subsequent work entitled "Remarks on Vivisection," published some
seventeen years before the date ascribed by Professor Bowditch as that
marking the beginning of criticism, he refers again to the views of
Abernethy:

"As for experiments on living animals involving suffering,
Mr. Abernethy disapproved of them, and seldom alluded to them but in
terms of distrust, derision, or disgust."

That the criticism of experimental cruelty did not begin in 1864, as
imagined by Professor Bowditch, the quotations here given sufficiently
demonstrate.

Beyond this demonstration, does the history of these savage tormentors
have any lesson for us to-day? They belonged to another century.
Should they not be forgiven, and their experiments condoned? Why not
confine attention solely to the laboratory of to-day? Why blame
Brachet and Magendie and Spallanzani, to whom anaesthesia was unknown?

There is a false suggestion in this protest, which, in one form or
another, we hear often to-day.  It is the gratuitous assumption put
forth in defence, that if anaesthetics had only been known to
physiologists before 1846, they would invariably have been used.  Any
such suggestion is manifestly false.  If these experiments of Brachet
and of others to be mentioned were to be made at all, it was necessary
that the animal should be conscious of the agony it experienced.  In
the most complete laboratory for vivisection of the present time--in
the Rockefeller Institute, for example--no scientist could drive a dog
INTO A FRENZY while it lies absolutely unconscious under the influence
of chloroform! We may say this of the experiments of Magendie on the
nervous system, for aside from the preliminary cutting operation, such
experiments demanded the consciousness of the victim.  That which
humanity has a right to censure in these physiologists is the spirit
of absolute indifference to animal suffering, the willingness to
subject a living creature to agony without adequate reason for the
infliction of pain.  The discovery of chloroform or ether made no
change in human nature.  Some of the worst of vivisections have been
made, not merely since anaesthetics were discovered, but within the
present century.  Over twenty-five years after the properties of ether
had been discovered, the most prominent vivisector in England told the
Royal Commission that, except for teaching purposes, "I never use
anaesthetics where it is not necessary for convenience, " and that an
experimenter "HAD NO TIME, SO TO SPEAK, FOR THINKING WHAT THE ANIMAL
WILL FEEL OR SUFFER."[1]

[1] Evidence before Royal Commission, 1875, Questions 3,538, 3540.

Unrestricted vivisection is the same to-day as a century ago.  In many
cases its operations involve little or no pain; in many cases there
seems to be the same absolute indifference to the agony inflicted that
was manifested by the vivisectors of a hundred years since.  Where the
law does not interfere, EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE.  Whether there is
cruelty or consideration depends on the spirit of the vivisector.  It
was no ignorant layman, but the president of the American Academy of
Medicine, who, in his annual address, declared that there were
American vivisectors who "seem, seeking useless knowledge, to be blind
to the writhing agony and deaf to the cry of pain of their victims,
AND WHO HAVE BEEN GUILTY OF THE MOST DAMNABLE CRUELTIES, without the
denunciation of the public and the profession that their wickedness
deserves."[1] And that vivisector of to-day, who suggests that if
anaesthetics had been known to Magendie or Brachet, they would
invariably have been used, is either ignorant or insincere.  Surely he
must know that the very nature of their experiments precluded the use
of ether, and that in their time, as to-day, if the experiment were to
be tried at all, it was necessary that the pain be felt.

[1] Address before American Academy of Medicine at Washington, D.C.,
May 4, 1891, by Theophilus Parvin, M.D., LL.D., professor in Jefferson
Medical College of Philadelphia, Pa.

There are other reasons why we should not permit the past to be
forgotten.  We are confronted by the challenge of the laboratory.
Behind the locked and barred doors of the vivisection chamber, to
which no man can gain admission unless known to be friendly to its
practices, the vivisector of to-day challenges society to prove the
existence of cruelty or abuse.  The vivisector demands absolute
freedom of action, he demands the most complete privacy, he demands
total independence of all legal supervision--and then challenges the
production of proof that any criticism is justified! Within the sacred
precincts of the laboratory a Brachet, a Magendie, a Claude Be'rnard
may be experimenting to-day with a profusion of victims, protected by
their seclusion from every possibility of complaint.  For in what
respect does the spirit that animates research to-day differ from that
manifested by experimenters of the past? In all the literature of
advocacy for unrestricted vivisection can one point out a word of
criticism of Magendie or Brachet or Be'rnard, or anything but
expressions of exculpation, of admiration, and of praise? An English
writer on animal experimentation, Mr. Stephen Paget, had occasion, in
a recent work, to refer to the experimentation of both Magendie and
Sir Charles Bell.  Does he criticize or condemn Magendie's cruelty?
No.  He tells us, incidentally, that Bell always had "a great dislike
to the school of Magendie," adding, with indifference, "LET ALL THAT
PASS." These words aptly express the sentiment and the wish.  Gladly,
indeed, would the physiological laboratory hide the past from the
memory of mankind; I do not believe in acceding to that desire.  When
the leading physiologist of his day, addressing an audience of
physicians, refers to an early criticism of physiological cruelty as a
collection of "blood-curdling stories," there is desire not to
investigate, but to ridicule and discredit historic facts.  When men
of science put forth what they claim to be, "a plain statement of the
whole truth," without one word of reference to the abuses of the past,
they practically throw dust in the air to hide the truth from the
public eye.  That it may have been done ignorantly and without any
wish to deceive is not sufficient to earn exculpation, for in either
case the evil is accomplished.

Of one English physiologist of that period, Sir Charles Bell, it is
impossible to speak except in terms of admiration and esteem.  Born in
1774, his long and useful life terminated in 1842, four years before
the discovery of anaesthesia.  No one can read his correspondence with
his brother, published many years after his death, without recognizing
the innate beauty and nobility of his character.  When news of the
Battle of Waterloo reached England, he--the leading surgeon of his
day--started for the battlefield.  The story of his experience is one
of the most graphic pictures of the effects of war to be found in
modern literature.  It was Sir Charles Bell who made to physiology the
greatest contribution which had come to it since the discovery by
Harvey of the circulation of the blood, and yet this discovery was
made by reasoning upon the facts of anatomy rather than by
experimenting upon animals.  An English physiologist, Sir Michael
Foster, admits this:

"To Charles Bell is due the merit of having made the fundamental
discovery of the distinction between motor and sensory fibres.  Led to
this view by reflecting on the distribution of the nerves, he
experimentally verified his conclusions...."

In his lectures on the nervous system Bell himself states that his
discoveries, so far from being the result of vivisections, were, "on
the contrary, deductions from anatomy; and I have had recourse to
experiments, not to form my own opinions, but to impress them upon
others."

That which determines the judgment of the world upon human actions is
the spirit that animates them.  Sir Charles Bell was not an
antivivisectionist.  When experiments on animals seemed to him
absolutely indispensable, he had recourse to them, but always with
repugnance, and with desire to avoid giving of pain.  In his lectures
on the nervous system he speaks thus of some of his work:

"After delaying long on account of the unpleasant nature of the
operation, I opened the spinal canal.... I was deterred from repeating
the experiment by the protracted cruelty of the dissection.  I
reflected that the experiment would be satisfactory if done on an
animal recently knocked down and insensible."

And on another occasion, writing to his brother, he says:

"I should be writing a third paper on the nerves; but I cannot proceed
without making some experiments, which are so unpleasant to make that
I defer them.  You may think me silly, but I cannot perfectly convince
myself that I am authorized in Nature or Religion to do these
cruelties .... And yet what are my experiments in comparison with
those which are daily done, and are done daily for nothing?"

Such extreme sensibility, such sympathetic hesitancy to inflict great
suffering in an attempt to discover some fact, would be ridiculed at
the present day in every laboratory in Europe or America.  It is
typical, however, of a sentiment that once prevailed.  Are we any
better because it has so largely disappeared?

For great cruelty was there ever great remorse? The cases are not
many; before the self-condemnation of a dying man and the final scene,
friendship may feel it best to draw the veil.  Yet one case of this
poignant regret is worthy consideration, and shall have relation.

                          CHAPTER V

                   A VIVISECTOR'S REMORSE

About the middle of the last century there died in Scotland in the
prime of life a physiologist, now almost forgotten, whose fate excited
at the time an unusual degree of compassionate interest.  Born in
1809, John Reid received his medical degree when but twenty-one years
of age.  A part of the two years following he spent in Paris, where
Magendie was at the height of his notoriety for the ruthless cruelty
of his vivisections.  What attracted the young man we do not know, but
Reid seems to have become greatly interested in physiological
problems.  Returning to Scotland, he pursued his investigations with
all the zeal of youth, and apparently with little or no regard for the
animal suffering he caused.  For instance, of experiments which he
made to prove a certain theory, he tells us:

"I have exposed the trunk of the par vagum in the neck of at least
thirty animals, and in all of these the pinching, cutting, and even
stretching of the nerve WERE ATTENDED BY INDICATIONS OF SEVERE
SUFFERING.  It was frequently difficult to separate the nerve from the
artery ON ACCOUNT OF THE VIOLENT STRUGGLES OF THE ANIMAL."[1]

[1] "Physiological Researches," by John Reid, p. 92. (In all
quotations the italics are the compiler's.)

Regarding the pain inflicted by him in certain other vivisections,
Reid is equally frank in his admissions:

"In repeated experiments upon the laryngeal nerves, we found in all
animals operated upon (except two dogs, which appeared CONSIDERABLY
EXHAUSTED BY GREAT PREVIOUS SUFFERING) ample ground for dissenting
from the statements of Dr. Alcock.... With the exceptions mentioned,
VERY SEVERE INDICATIONS OF SUFFERING ... ATTENDED THE PINCHING AND
CUTTING OF THE NERVE."[1]

[1] "Physiological Researches," p. 73.

Some physiological observers have remarked that among the more highly
organized species of animals the creature struggles against the
ligatures previous to a second operation more than it did at its first
experience.  It is evident that in such cases, in animals as well as
among human beings, the memory of agony endured creates a mental
condition of terror and fear.  But what effect would the emotion of
terror have upon the heart's action if certain nerves were first
severed?  Brachet relates an experiment wherein he tortured a dog in
every conceivable way, yet the heart's action was not notably
quickened if such nerves were first divided.  Reid determined,
therefore, to experiment for himself upon this emotion of TERROR
induced by memory of previous pain, and six dogs were selected for his
purpose.  The nerves were first "cut in the middle of the neck, and  a
portion of each removed." He then tells us the results:

"After the operation, the pulsations of the heart were reckoned when
the animal was lying or standing on the ground, and AFTER IT HAD BEEN
CARESSED FOR SOME TIME TO CALM ITS FEARS.  It was then lifted up on
the table, on which it had been tied, and operated upon; and after
having been spoken to HARSHLY, the pulsations were again reckoned."

In every case Reid noted that the heart's action increased from 20 to
40 beats per minute on lifting the animal to the vivisection table,
whereon it had previously suffered torment.  He adds:

"In those experiments it was particularly observed that the animals
made no struggles in carrying them to and from the table, and
consequently the increased excitation of the heart MUST HAVE ARISEN
FROM THE MENTAL EMOTION OF TERROR.  In a seventh dog this was
conjoined with violent struggles.  The pulsations, eight hours after
the operation, were 130; WHEN PLACED ON THE TABLE AND MADE TO
STRUGGLE, the pulsations were about 220; when he had been SUBJECTED TO
PAIN, and struggled more violently, they became so frequent that they
could not be accurately reckoned.  These experiments...prove that
after the section of the vagi the pulsations of the heart may not only
be quickened by muscular exertion, but also by MENTAL EMOTIONS."[1]

[1] Reid, "Physiological Researches," pp. 168-171.

Objection is often made to the citation of vivisections which occurred
before the discovery of ether or chloroform.  But in these experiments
of Reid--as in those of Brachet--the use of anaesthetics, even had
they been known to him, would have been a hindrance.  HOW CAN ANYONE
EXPERIMENT ON THE "MENTAL EMOTIONS" OF AN ANIMAL WHILE IT IS
PROFOUNDLY INSENSIBLE TO ALL EXTERNAL INFLUENCES? The idea is an
absurdity.  The biography of Reid thus refers to this very point:

"Allusion has been made to the infliction of suffering on living
animals.... This suffering was not merely incidental to dissections,
but in many of the experiments recorded WAS DELIBERATELY INFLICTED.
In many of the experiments, EVEN IF ANAESTHETICS HAD BEEN KNOWN at the
period of his observations, THEY COULD NOT HAVE BEEN EMPLOYED.... It
was essential to the settlement of the question that the animal should
be left TO EXHIBIT ALL THE PAIN IT FELT, AND SHOULD BE EXPRESSLY
SUBJECTED TO TORTURE."[2]

[2] "Life of John Reid," by Geo. Wilson, M.D., 1852, p. 153.

And precisely the same apology is put forward to-day.  More than once,
by high scientific authority, the public has been comfortably assured
that nowadays "anaesthetics are always employed," in severely painful
experiments, EXCEPT "in those instances in which THE ANAESTHETIC WOULD
INTERFERE WITH THE OBJECT OF THE EXPERIMENT." Truly it is a broad
exception.  For all we know, it is the laboratory's excuse, even for
the present-day repetition of the experiments of Magendie, Brachet,
and Reid. "The anaesthetic would interfere." But what was the value of
all this experimentation upon mind and body, this "mental emotion of
terror" in a dog, and this calming of its fear by caresses, followed
by the torment of the operation? There was no value so far as the
treatment of human ailments is concerned.  Reid's experiments led to
no change whatever in medical practice.  Reading of certain
experiments, one is constantly reminded of the old peasant's reply to
his grandchild, who had found a skull on what once was a battlefield.
Holding it in his hand, the old man told the story of the Battle of
Blenheim, and the awful suffering it had caused:

          "`But what good came of it at last?'
              Said little Peterkin;
           `Why, that I cannot tell,' quoth he,
              `BUT `TWAS A FAMOUS VICTORY!'"

At the early age of thirty-eight the physiologist seemed to see before
him the bright prospect of a long and happy life.  He possessed
unusual physical strength, robust health, and a resolute and
courageous spirit.  His home was happy.  No one considered him a cruel
man; indeed, we are told, he was rather fond of animals.  "In his own
house he always had pet dogs and cats about him, and he was as ready
as Sir Walter Scott to rise from any occupation to humour their
whims." In his profession he had made somewhat of a reputation, yet
higher honours and wider renown and increased financial prosperity
seemed almost certain to await him in the not distant future.

But one day, in November, 1847, he noted in himself the symptom of a
disease that gave cause for alarm.  The pain at first was doubtless
insignificant, but the symptom occasioned anxiety because it would not
disappear.  Some of his friends were the best surgeons of Scotland,
and he asked their advice.  They were careful not to add to his
discouragement, and they suggested the old, old formula--"rest and a
change of scene." A year passed.  The disease made constant progress,
and there came a time when of its malignant character there could be
no possible doubt.  Finally, the vivisector recognized that it was not
merely death which confronted him, but death by the most mysterious
and agonizing of human ailments.  In June, 1848, he wrote to a friend:
"I have a strong conviction that my earthly career will soon come to a
close, and that I shall never lecture again."

And then, gradually, to the ever-increasing agony of the body, came
the anguish of REMORSE.  He remembered the trembling little creatures
which again and again he had lifted to their bed of torment, and "made
to struggle," that he might observe how the heart-beats of a mutilated
animal were quickened "from the emotion of terror"; and now, in the
gloom of horrible imaginings, TERROR held HIM with a grasp that would
never loosen or lessen while his consciousness remained.  He
remembered the the evidence of "severe suffering" he had so often
evoked by the "pinching and cutting and stretching" of nerves; the
creatures he had first "caressed to calm their fears"--and then
vivisected; the eyes that so often had appealed for respite from
agony--and appealed in vain; and now, NATURA MALIGNA, to whom pity is
unknown, was slowly torturing him to death.  He pointed to the seat of
his suffering as being "THE SAME NERVES on which he had made so many
experiments, and added: `THIS IS A JUDGMENT UPON ME FOR THE SUFFERING
I HAVE INFLICTED ON ANIMALS'"[1]

[1] "Life of John Reid," by Dr. G. Wilson, p. 273.

More than once during the last months of his life he recurred to the
same subject.

His biographer says:

"He could not divest his mind of the feeling that there was a special
Providence in the way in which he had been afflicted.  He had devoted
peculiar attention to the functions of certain nerves, and had
inflicted suffering on many dumb creatures that he might discover the
office of those nerves; and HE COULD NOT BUT REGARD THE CANCER WHICH
PREYED UPON THEM--IN HIS OWN BODY--AS A SIGNIFICANT MESSAGE FROM
GOD."[2]

[2] Ibid., p. 250.

Again and again he repeated the conviction to which his mind
continually reverted in the midst of his torment.  To him conscience
brought no message of Divine approbation, but only a sentence of
condemnation upon his past pursuits.  Nor was Reid alone in this
feeling of apprehension and questioning.  We are told by his medical
friend and biographer that many of his brother physicians were
startled by learning

"that Dr. Reid is doomed to die by a disease WHICH REPEATS UPON HIS
OWN BODY NOT IN ONE, BUT IN MANY WAYS, the pains which he had imposed
upon the lower animals."[1]

[1] Reid's "Life," p. 252.

Undoubtedly, friends of the tormented vivisector attempted to comfort
him with the assurance--so often repeated in our day--that his
experiments on living animals had been carried on "for the benefit of
sick and suffering humanity." But Reid was too honest a man to permit
himself to be thus deluded while under the very shadow of death.  For
him the time had come when the specious apologies for the infliction
of torture--so current in our day--could be of no avail in lessening
the poignant feeling of Remorse.  In the dying hour men speak the
truth about their actions.  It was so with Reid.

"He confessed to having thought much of Scientific FAME in his
labours, and IT WOULD BE UNTRUE TO SAY THAT THE ALLEVIATION OF HUMAN
SUFFERING was the motive always before him when he inflicted pain on
the lower animals."[2]

[2] Ibid., p. 65.

An operation seemed to hold out hope of relief from his terrible
agony.  It was deemed best to perform it--as Reid had experimented--
without anaesthetics, "that the sufferer, with every sensation and
faculty alive, might literally become an operator upon himself." In
the course of a second operation, Dr. Wilson tells us: "THE SAME
NERVES and bloodvessels which had been the subject of Dr. Reid's most
important inquiries WERE LAID BARE IN HIMSELF, BY THE SURGEON'S
KNIFE." But all remedial measures were in vain.  The two years of
apprehension, suspense, recognition, despair, of slowly increasing
physical torment and the agony of remorse, came at last to an end.
In July, 1849, he found the long-wished-for peace.

Seventy years ago the religious sentiment of Scotland easily favoured
that doctrine of Divine displeasure which seemed probable to Reid and
his friends.  In our day, however, we are less certain of being able
to interpret the "judgments of God"; and if we regard it as a
remarkable coincidence, it is as far as we may safely go.
Coincidences of some kind are a universal experience.

That notorious vivisector, Dr. Brown-Se'quard, devoted many years of
his life to experiments on the seat of all that is concentrated and
exquisite in agony--the spinal cord.  It was a curious coincidence
certainly, that in his last days the vivisector was affected by a
disease of the spinal cord, which at one time compelled him to go on
all-fours like a beast.  Even the remorse of Reid finds a parallel,
for toward the end of his life, Haller, one of the greatest
physiologists that ever lived, is said to have expressed in letters
deep regret for the suffering he had inflicted upon living animals.

We cannot doubt, however, that the experience of excruciating agony
affecting the very nerves upon which he had so often experimented must
have brought to the dying man a deeper realization of the pain he had
caused than he could otherwise have known.  A noted surgeon, whose
finger was the seat of a felon, asked his hospital assistant to lance
it, at the same time cautioning him to be particularly careful to
cause as little pain as possible. "Why, I've often heard you tell
patients coming to the hospital not to mind the lancing--that the pain
to be felt was really nothing at all," replied the assistant.

"Ah, yes," rejoined the surgical sufferer, "but then, remember, I was
AT THE OTHER END OF THE KNIFE!" In watching the phenomena elicited by
experiments upon animals, there have been vivisectors who forget what
was felt "at the other end of the knife," and so became utterly
oblivious to the suffering they caused.  A leading physiologist of
England once declared that he "HAD NO REGARD AT ALL" for the pain of
an animal vivisected, and that "he had no time, so to speak, for
thinking what the animal would feel or suffer"; that he never used
anaesthetics, "except for convenience' sake." Can such a man realize
the meaning of the word "PAIN"? Without sharp personal experience, can
anyone, adequately comprehend what it signifies?

Remorse may be evidence, not so much of exceptional delinquency as of
exceptional sensitiveness to ethical considerations.  By the baser and
more degraded souls it is rarely experienced.  The greatest criminals
usually meet their doom, untouched by any feeling of remorse.  Perhaps
it does not greatly matter how this infinite regret is occasioned.
Sometimes--

                                "... pain in man
        Has the high purpose of the flail and fan."

It separates and purifies.  To one whose great suffering from disease
is long continued, there must come a clearer vision of the infinite
littleness of all transitory ambitions.  Such supreme regret as that
which came to Reid has great value.  The poor soul once so longed for
"fame"--which means only a little wider recognition to-day, and a
little more enduring remembrance by posterity than that which is
gained by the generality of mankind.  Of that horde of torturers, avid
also for "fame," whose causation of unreckonable anguish brings into
their ignoble natures no thought of pity, no emotion of regret,
everyone comes at last to rest in that deep forgetfulness which he
deserves.  Here, however, is the story of one whose penitence gives
reason for longer remembrance, who greatly erred and greatly
suffered, whose contrition atoned, whose example admonishes--JOHN
REID, physiologist.

                        CHAPTER VI

                IS TORTURE JUSTIFIED BY UTILITY?

At every point in the discussion of vivisection we are confronted by
the plea of utility.  If, to some extent, we may admit the
reasonableness of the argument, yet such admission must be with
certain definite reservations.  The infliction of extreme pain either
upon human beings or on animals for objects other than their own
benefit--how far is it to be justified if some useful end is thereby
achieved? The subject is worth of study.

The utility of judicial torture as a method of securing the confession
of criminals does not seem to have been questioned for hundreds of
years.  The Romans often put all their slaves to torture as soon as
any crime occurred, of which some of their servants could have been
aware.  That sometimes the innocent suffered beyond endurance and
falsely confessed seemed to our forefathers no reason whatever for
changing an ancient custom, so often productive of useful ends.
Mysterious crimes, which under our modern methods of investigation
escape detection, were frequently brought to light in earlier times
simply by the threat of torment and the sight of the executioner.
There can be no question that in innumerable cases the torture of
accused criminals whose guilt was almost certain, yet not absolutely
proven, served to further the ends of Justice.  If modern civilization
condemns the torture of suspected lawbreakers, it is upon other
grounds than that Justice finds it useless in every case.

The public punishment of great offences against the state--punishment
accompanied with ignominy and extreme torment--seemed to our ancestors
equally justified by utility.  If an old woman were convicted of
witchcraft--and nobody questioned the actuality of the offence two
hundred and fifty years ago--her punishment by burning at the stake
certainly might be expected to deter others from entering into
compacts with the Evil One.  If heresy and unbelief lead not only the
sceptic himself, but all who follow his teaching, into eternal
darkness, there seemed to our forefathers no surer method of checking
the first tendencies toward intellectual revolt, and saving
innumerable souls, than by delivering the heretic to the flames, and
accompanying his execution by everything calculated to excite popular
derision and execration.  The public punishment of treason, and
particularly of attempted or achieved assassination of the sovereign
or head of the State, was made as excruciating and terrible as
possible, in order THAT THE EXAMPLE MIGHT DETER.

We speak somewhat vaguely to-day of such tortures and their
atrociously horrible accompaniments.  It may be worth while to see
just what they were.  two or three centuries ago civilized nations
considered that IF TORMENT WAS USEFUL IT WAS JUSTIFIABLE.  There are
three cases which stand out in history with especial distinctness, the
details of which are little known, and I propose to cite them simply
as evidence of the extent to which judicial torment was carried, but a
little while ago, among some of the most enlightened and progressive
nations of modern times.

If ever the assassination of a Prince deserved the severest
punishment, it was the murder in July, 1584, of William the Silent, the
leader of the Protestants of Holland in their struggle for
independence from Spanish dominion.  The sentence pronounced upon the
murderer, Balthazar Gerard, a mere hired assassin, was carried out
within ten days after commission of the crime.  A contemporary writer,
apparently an eyewitness of his execution, speaks of Gerard as one
"whose death was not of a sufficient sharpness for such a caitiff, and
yet too sore for any Christian."  His description of the murderer'
execution is as follows:

"The order of the torment was four days.  He had the first day the
strappado openly, in the market; the second day, whipped and salted,
and his right hand cut off; the third day, his breasts cut out, and
salt thrown in, and then his left hand cut off.  The last day of his
torment, which was the 10th of July, he was bound to two stakes,
standing upright, in such order that he could not shrink down nor stir
any way.  Thus standing, naked, there was a great fire placed some
small distance from him wherein heated pincers of iron, with which
pincers two men did pinch and pull his flesh in small pieces from his
bones throughout most parts of his body.  Then was he unbound from the
stakes and laid upon the earth, and again fastened to four posts; then
they ripped him up, at which time he had life and PERFECT MEMORY."[1]

[1] Harl. Misc., vol. iii., p. 200. "Printed at Middleborough, Anno
1584." The above account is taken from a rare publication, in the
British Museum Library.  Motley's account of Gerard's torment includes
elements of horror not mentioned by this writer.

Thus did Holland, a leading civilized nation, attempt to deter
assassins from assaulting her rulers.

Three centuries ago in May, 1610, Henry IV., King of France, was
struck down by the dagger of Francis Ravilliac; and France, the
leading civilized nation of Europe, determined that the punishment of
the crime should be so horrible that it might be expected for ever to
deter others from imitating his offence.  Standing in a tumbril, naked
in his shirt, with the knife wherewith he had stabbed the King chained
to his right hand, Ravilliac was carried to the doors of the Church of
Notre Dame, where he was made to descend, and to do penance for his
crime.

"After this was he carried to the Greve, where was builded a very
substantial scaffold of strong timber, whereupon he was to be
tormented to death.  By the executioners, he was bound to an engine of
wood and iron, made like to a St. Andrew's Cross; and then the hand,
with the knife chained to it, wherewith he slew the king, and half the
arm, was put into an artificial furnace, then flaming with fire and
brimstone...yet nothing at all would he confess, but yelled out with
such horrible cries, even as it had been a Divill or some tormented
soul in hell...and though he deserved ten times more, yet humane
nature might inforce us to pity his distress.  After this with tongs
and iron pincers made extreme hot in the same furnace, the
executioners pinched and seared his breasts, his arms, and thighs and
other fleshy parts of his body, cutting out collops of flesh and
burned them before his face; afterward into the same wounds thus made,
they poured scalding oil, rosen, pitch and brimstone...yet he would
reveal nothing but that he did it of himself...because the King
tolerated two religions in his kingdom...but cried out with most
horrible roars, even like the dying man tormented in the brazen bull
of Philaris."

Finally, his body was torn to pieces by four strong horses, the
remains gathered and burnt, and the ashes scattered to the winds.
"God in His justice," piously observes the narrator, "will, I hope, in
like manner reward all such as desperately attempt to lift their hands
against the Lord's Anointed."[1]

[1] Harl. Misc., vol. vi., p. 607. "The Terrible and deserved death of
Francis Ravilliac, showing the manner of his strange torments at his
execution, the 25th of May last past, for the murther of the late
French King, Henry IV."

Almost a century and a half passed before the Place de Greve, in
Paris, again witnessed the torment of a fanatic for an attack upon the
sacred person of a King.  On January 5, 1757, Louis XV. was slightly
wounded by a young Frenchman, Robert Franc,ois Damiens.  The injury
was not severe, and the King's recovery was soon complete.  Such an
attack, however, was a capital offence, and it was determined that the
criminal should not only lose his life, but that he should be made to
undergo every possible addition of torment and agony.  On the morning
of March 28, 1757, Damiens was subjected to torture, in order to
induce him to reveal the names of any accomplices.  In the extremity
of his agony he appeared at one time to lose consciousness; but the
surgeon and the physician--"qui font toujours pre'sent a` la
torture"--declared him still conscious, and the torment continued,
accompanied by "terrible cries." When he had been for two hours and a
quarter in the hands of the tormentors, the physician and surgeon gave
it as their opinion that to continue might lead to an "accident," and
the doomed wretch was taken to his dungeon, in order to recuperate.

Toward three o'clock of the afternoon the same day, Damiens was
notified that everything was in readiness for his execution.  Clothed
in but a single garment, he was made to mount a tumbril, and was
carried to the doors of the Cathedral of Notre Dame.  Descending from
the cart, holding a lighted candle in his hands, he knelt and made
"l'amende honorable," after the form prescribed.,  It is but a short
distance from the Church of Notre Dame to the Place de Greve.  Here a
vast crowd had gathered in order to witness the extremest agony of a
dying man.  Members of the French aristocracy were present; ladies of
quality paid vast sums for the occupancy of windows overlooking the
square, and played cards to pass the time until the spectacle of
torment should begin.  A scaffold about 9 feet square received the
executioners and their victim.  The tortures were of the same
character as those inflicted in the same place upon the assassin of
Henry IV.  There was the burning of the right hand, the mutilation of
the body and limbs, the pouring of melted lead and other substances
into bleeding wounds.  Terrible cries, "heard at a great distance,"
were induced; there were shrieks for pity; there were prayers to God
for strength to endure: "Mon Dieu, la force! la force! Seigneur mon
Dieu, ayez pitie de moi! Seigneur mon Dieu, donnez-moi la patience!"
Prayers for patience, for strength to suffer and endure--these his
only petitions in the supreme agony.

At last came the final act of the tragedy.  Four young and vigorous
horses were attached, each to a seared and lacerated limb, and the
attempt was made to rend asunder the still living body.  The horrible
spectacle lasted for more than an hour.  Finally the surgeon and the
physician in attendance gave it as their opinion that complete
dismemberment could not be effected except afer a partial severance of
the limbs.  The operation was performed, the horses were again
attached, and the fearful spectacle came to an end.  Damiens
apparently preserved consciousness even after both legs and an arm had
been torn from his body.  The remains were gathered and burnt on the
place of torment, and the noble lords and ladies who had gloated over
the scene returned to their homes.  It is not at all improbable that
among those who witnessed the torments of Damiens in 1757 for an
assault upon a King's sacred person there were some who lived to see
Louis XVI. mount the scaffold in 1793.[1]

[1] See "Pie`ces Originales des Process fait a Robert Franc,ois
Damiens, Paris," 1757, vol. iii., pp. 379-409; and Perkin's "France
under Louis XV.," vol. ii., p. 87.

I have quoted at length three cases of judicial torture, occurring
among Christian nations, which were then in the front rank of modern
civilization.  In Turkey and in Egypt, in India and in China, among
the savage Sioux and Iroquois of North America, the tragedies of
prolonged torment were more frequent, but not more horrible.  But in
what way do such records of torture concern the abuses of vivisection?

For two reasons they are suggestive.  Not infrequently it is intimated
that reports of cruelty by physiologists cannot be true: they are
merely "blood-curdling stories"; their horror makes the charge beyond
the possibility of belief.  A physiologist cannot have been so cruel,
and yet have seemed so gentle, so benevolent, so mild.  Here are
presented the records of torment inflicted upon human beings; torments
approved by the highest legal authorities; torments to the supervision
of which even medical science, in one case at least, lent its
representatives to assist the torturers, and if the facts were not so
well attested, they, too, would pass belief.  But we know they are not
fictions; they were actualities.  To push them out of recollection
into forgetfulness is to unlearn one of the chief lessons that History
can teach us--the lesson of warning.  The atrocities of biological
experimentation can no more be dismissed with a shrug of incredulity
than one can sneer at the agonies of Gerard or Damiens because they,
too, suggest a heartlessness in the men of that time which our finer
civilization can hardly conceive.

But the chief lesson of this black chapter of history concerns the
great question of utility.  That these atrocious torments were
inspired simply and solely by an intense passion for revenge is an
immeasurably dishonouring imputation.  For the statesmen not only, but
the religious leaders of that period, believed--and justly believed--in
the usefulness of public torture; they believed that the fear of an
ignominious and horrible death amid the jeering cries of the
surrounding populace would tend to hinder others from repeating the
offence.  The utility of Terror as a deterrent they knew--as France
knew it in '93, as the Spanish Inquisition knew it for nearly three
centuries, as every nation knew it in times of popular insurrection or
foreign wars.  What Civilization came at last to recognize was that
UTILITY OF TORTURE, NO MATTER HOW GREAT, COULD NOT JUSTIFY ITS USE.
This principle in its application to the punishment of human beings
has been universally recognized by every civilized nation in the
world.  It only remains for the future Civilization to recognize it so
far as concerns beings inferior to ourselves.  The repetition by
students in a laboratory of an experiment upon the nervous system of a
dog, simply to demonstrate well-known facts, tends, perhaps, to fix
them in memory; but that degree of utility does not justify the
torture. "The time will come," said Dr. Bigelow of Harvard Medical
School, "when the world will look back to modern vivisection in the
name of Science as it now does to burning at the stake in the name of
Religion."

                        CHAPTER VII

                THE COMMENCEMENT OF AGITATION

The student of history, attempting to trace the agitation for reform
of vivisection, is early confronted by a curious fact.  It is the
ignorance which generally prevails concerning the part borne by the
medical profession in exciting public attention to the cruelties of
experimentation.  The present generation of scientific teachers, of
medical students and physicians, are as a rule profoundly ignorant of
the beginning of the controversy, and would be as surprised as
Professor Osler of Oxford University seems to have been surprised, to
hear that medical journals first made known to the world the abuses of
vivisection.  Remembering how vigorously the physiological laboratory
of to-day resists and resents either investigation or criticism, one
is forced to confess that rarely, if ever, in the history of the world
has a transformation of ideals been more completely attained.  If the
followers of Wilberforce and Clarkson, to whom the world is indebted
for the great impulse against negro slavery, were to-day organized for
the exploitation of the negroes on the Congo, or the Indians on the
Amazon, or for carrying on the slave-trade secretly, without
restriction or supervision, the condition of affairs could hardly be
more singular than the dominance obtained by the physiological
laboratory upon the medical conscience of to-day.  The facts
constitute a remarkable chapter of human experience; and though once
before they have been stated by the present writer, it is evident, by
the evidence given before the Royal Commission, that a vast amount of
ignorance yet remains to be dispelled.

Up to a period considerably beyond the middle of the last century, the
sentiment of the medical profession in England was practically
unanimous in condemning the methods of vivisection which prevailed on
the Continent of Europe.  In 1855 the science of bacteriology was
unknown.  It is possible that not more than half a dozen English
physiologists at that time were making experiments on living animals.
It was not even regarded as an essential in the teaching of medical
schools.  In 1875 some of the most distinguished surgeons and
physicians of Great Britain testified before the Royal Commission that
as medical students they had never witnessed an experiment on a living
animal.

That the agitation against the cruelties of vivisectors which made
itself evident during the last half of the previous century had no
origin in ignorance is easily demonstrated.  It was the medical
journals of England which first made known to the world the atrocities
perpetrated in the name of Science in Continental laboratories.  In
our own day, when some of the leading teachers in medical schools have
only scorn for those who denounce cruelty in the laboratory, it is
worth while to study the sentiments of an earlier generation, when
sympathy for animal suffering was not a subject for mockery.

The Medical Times and Gazette of London was one of the earlier of
medical journals to denounce the cruelties perpetrated by vivisection
abroad.  In its issue of September 4, 1858, the editor says:

"In this country we are glad to think that experiments on animals are
never performed nowadays except upon some reasonable excuse for the
pain thus wilfully inflicted.  We are inclined to believe that the
question will some day be asked, whether any excuse can make them
justifiable? One cannot read without shuddering details like the
following.  It would appear from these that the practice of such
brutality is the everyday lesson taught in the veterinary schools of
France.

"A small cow, very thin, and which had undergone numerous operations--
that is to say, WHICH HAD SUFFERED DURING THE DAY THE MOST EXTREME
TORTURE--was placed upon the table, and killed by insufflation of air
into the jugular vein."[1]

This fact is related by M. Sanson, of the veterinary school of
Toulouse, merely incidentally, when describing an experiment of his
own upon the blood.  The wretched animal was actually cut to pieces by
the students! ... M. Sanson adds (merely wanting to prove that the
nervous system of the animals upon which he operated was properly
stirred up): `Those who have seen these wretched animals on their bed
of suffering--lit de douleur--know the degree of torture to which they
are subjected; torture, in fact, under which they for the most part
succumb!'"

[1] In all extracts italics are the compiler's.

A little later the same medical journal again touched the subject of
vivisection in its editorial columns.  In its issue of October 20,
1860, the editor is even more emphatic in denunciation:

"Two years ago we called attention to the brutality practised at the
veterinary schools in France, and gave a specimen of the kind of
torture there inflicted upon animals.  WE ARE VERY GLAD TO SEE THAT
THE PUBLIC ARE NOW OCCUPIED WITH THE SUBJECT, and we are sure that the
Profession at large will fully agree with us IN CONDEMNING EXPERIMENTS
WHICH ARE MADE SIMPLY TO DEMONSTRATE PHYSIOLOGICAL OR OTHER FACTS
WHICH HAVE BEEN RECEIVED AS SETTLED POINTS AND ARE BEYOND
CONTROVERSY.  We consider the question involved as one of extreme
interest to the Profession, and we shall gladly throw open our columns
to any of our brethren who may wish to assist in framing some code by
which we may decide under what circumstances experiments upon living
animals may be made with propriety."

The words italicized in the foregoing quotation are of special
significance to-day.  The editor is "very glad" to note the interest
taken in the subject by the general public--a sentiment quite foreign
to that of the present time.  One notes, too, the gratifying assurance
that the medical profession of England at that period would "fully
agree in condemning experiments," which nowadays are made not only in
medical schools but to some extent in every college of any standing in
the United States.  And this condemnation on the part of the medical