LECTURE, 
I 
CORRELATIVE TO A COURSE, 
4 
ON 
SURGERY, 
IN THE 
UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA, 
EMBRACING 
A SHORT ACCOUNT OF EMINENT BELGIAN SURGEONS, 
PHYSICIANS, &c. &c. 
DELIVERED DECEMBER 22, 1847. ***** 
WILLIAM GIBSON, M.D., 
PROFESSOR OF SURGERY. 
PHILADELPHIA: 
J. G. AUNER, No. 333 MARKET STREET. 
1848. PHILADELPHIA: 
T. K. AND P. G. COLLINS, PRINTERS. LECTURE. 
Gentlemen, 
I left London on the 8th of July for Paris; and, after a delightful 
ride over an excellent railway, through a highly cultivated country, 
reached Southampton in three hours. The next day was devoted to 
an excursion through the Isle of Wight—long celebrated for its pic- 
turesque scenery, and mild, salubrious climate. The gay season was 
just commencing, and hundreds of beautiful barges, filled with well 
dressed, fashionable people, were seen skimming the smooth waters 
surrounding its shores, as we approached West Cowes, a romantic little 
town, perched upon the sides and eminence of a lofty hill—whence 
beautiful views are obtained of the island in various directions, and of 
its miniature seas. After spending a few hours in beholding classical 
spots, and marine prospects, we embarked in a small steamer, and pass- 
ing Osborne House, Victoria’s favorite summer retreat, speedily reached 
Ryde, the largest and most beautiful town in the isiand ; thence took 
chaise to Carisbrooke, and various other celebrated places, and re- 
turned to Southampton, gratified, beyond measure, at having seen and 
enjoyed more in the same space, than could have been afforded, pro- 
bably, by a rapid excursion through any other cultivated, or wild district 
in England, or, perhaps, in the world. 
Upon reaching Paris, a few days after, by the Havre route,'hay in- 
tention was to sally forth at once, hunt up all my old professional 
friends, and then live in the hospitals from “ morn till night.” I soon 
discovered, however, that little, in that way, could be accomplished 
then, owing to extreme heat of the weather—a heat not exceeded, in 
intensity, by that of any American day I ever experienced, at any sea- 
son of the year. My determination, therefore, was to start, as soon as 
possible, for Switzerland or Germany; but hearing that Roux expected 
to perform, in a day or two, a most difficult and dangerous operation on 
the thyroid gland, I concluded to wait, and witness the result of his 
undertaking. You have all heard, I am sure, more or less, of Joseph 
Philibert Roux, now in the sixty-eighth year of his age, who, for the 4 
last forty years, has occupied various posts of honor; first, as surgeon 
of the hopital Beaujon; next, of La Charite ; lastly, of the Hotel Dieu; 
in all which he distinguished himself as an operator, lecturer, and 
medical surgeon ; and these, together with the reputation he acquired 
as a writer on numerous subjects, especially on immediate union after 
amputation, on staphyloraphy, on resection of bones, on strabismus, on 
wounds, and by various articles published in the “ Dictionnaire des Sci- 
ences independently of interesting volumes on surgery and 
physiology, on operative surgery, and of his parallel between English 
and French surgery, have procured for him high consideration, not 
only in Paris, where he is so well known and esteemed for his good 
character, honesty, and dignity, but in most parts of the world. And 
yet, strange and inconsistent as it may seem, few operators have been 
so notoriously unsuccessful—why, it is extremely difficult to say. I 
was curious, therefore, I confess, to witness the exploit in which he 
proposed to engage—however unfavorably I might augur of the result. 
Accordingly, accompanied by my friends, Monsieur Blacheley, of Paris, 
and Dr. Nowell, of South Carolina, I repaired, at the appointed hour, 
early in the morning, to the Hotel Dieu, listened to a very able and 
fluent discourse, by Roux, upon another topic, and learned, at its termi- 
nation, that the operation would be postponed until the next day, on 
account of the excessive heat. Desirous of knowing his reasons for 
operating at all, I conversed with him on the subject, and learned, with 
surprise, that—although he did not consider the woman’s life endan- 
gered by suffering the tumor to remain, and the operation would, pro- 
bably, prove fatal, as it had in most preceding cases—he felt justified 
in performing it, upon the ground of getting rid of disagreeable de- 
formity, and, at the same time, of taking the chance of recovery. I asked 
if he remembered the result of the attempts at extirpation of the thyroid 
by Desault, Gooch, Dupuytren, and others, to which he replied by 
asking me the circumstances and peculiarities of each case, and par- 
ticularly of an operation to which I referred, performed by an eminent 
American surgeon,* a few years back. My statements and explanations 
appeared, however, to produce no impression upon him, at the time; 
and he said to me, at parting, “come down to-morrow, when the wea- 
ther will, probably, be cooler, and you will be almost certain to see the 
operation.” The next day found me at my post, afforded another oppor- 
tunity to hear a lecture, but not to witness extirpation of the thyroid 
gland—the same excuse being given, that the weather was too hot. 
“ Come to-morrow, gentlemen,” said Roux to his class, “and I promise 
* The late Dr. George M’Clellan. 5 
you shall not be disappointed.” To-morrow came, and I, with it, to 
the Hotel Dieu; but Roux made not his appearance. He had slipped 
off, with silent celerity, to Aix-la-Chapelle for the benefit of his health, 
and to get rid of the excessive Parisian heat! One of my medical 
friends said to me, “ I am confident you have scared old Roux away 
by the recital of that frightful American case ; and I don’t regret it; for 
I really think the operation unnecessary; come with me, and judge for 
yourself.” Upon repairing to the ward, I found a tall, fine-looking girl of 
twenty-two, robust, and, seemingly, in perfect health, with a tumor, the 
size of an orange, occupying the thyroid gland, free from uneasiness 
when handled or pressed, and not interfering, in the slightest degree, 
with respiration or deglutition. She asked what I thought of her case. 
1 replied, without regard to etiquette, “ Take my advice; let no surgeon 
come within gunshot of you, and you may, possibly, live fifty years.” 
She seemed delighted with my prognostic, and promised to conform; 
and I left the old Lazar house much better pleased at the prospect of 
saving a life, than of seeing a splendid, but unsuccessful, exhibition of 
dexterity, and operative skill. 
During the remainder of my stay in Paris, I saw daily, and almost 
hourly, young Blacheley, whose name I have already mentioned, and 
found him remarkably intelligent, well read, and enterprising in all that 
related to his favorite pursuits—Anatomy and Surgery. He is about 
twenty-six years old, the son-in-law of Ratier—an eminent physician 
of Paris, well known in America by his valuable writings—was the 
favorite pupil and assistant of Lisfranc, who bequeathed to him his 
choice instruments and books. He has succeeded, also, in obtaining a 
share of Lisfranc’s practice; and has already distinguished himself 
by some brilliant operations of the higher order. Being passionately 
fond of his profession, lively and playful in his temperament, courteous 
and engaging in his manners, he has the peculiar faculty of winning 
the affection and respect of his pupils, who look upon him more in the 
light of a brother, than a preceptor and stranger; and learn, willingly, 
from him many important precepts, they would hardly listen to from 
men of higher reputation and more formal pretensions—but destitute of 
his amiable and attractive qualities. It may easily be imagined, indeed, 
how inestimable such a friend must prove to any young stranger, 
arriving for the first time in a thronged city like Paris, who knows, 
perhaps, little more of the language than the words “ manger and 
changer;” who feels as if he were shut out from the world, floating, 
as an atom or speck, upon the surface of existence. To be taken by 
the hand, under these circumstances; to be carried, perhaps, into the 
family of such a friend, and there domesticated ; or have respectable 
1* 6 
lodgings procured for him; to be conducted through each hospital and 
medical school; to be told and shown where he can procure the best 
books and instruments and apparatus, necessary for his studies, and 
with the least delay, are favors, which, in the incipiency of his pil- 
grimage especially, cannot fail to be appreciated, as they deserve, by 
any grateful heart and thinking head. Such a friend, I am con- 
fident, young Blacheley will prove to any American student, properly 
introduced, not only because he seems to have a peculiar predilection 
for our countrymen, but is prompted, from the natural benevolence of 
his disposition, and unbounded love for his profession, to assist its vota- 
ries to the fullest extent. His pupils now in Paris, all of whom are gra- 
duates of this school, will respond, I am sure, to all I have said in favor 
of their present teacher and friend. 
The weather, in Paris, still continuing oppressively warm, I deter- 
mined to leave for Brussels; and, after a very pleasant ride over a sub- 
stantial railway, in cars not exceeded for comfort and convenience by any 
in Europe, reached that capital in twelve hours. Delightful Brussels, 
Paris, as it is called, in miniature, with its wide-spread, shady avenues, 
its extended boulevards, edged with lofty umbrageous elms, its noble 
parks and palaces, splendid edifices, public and private, its picturesque 
site, equally divided between hill and dale, overlooking, for leagues, 
verdant meadows and fields, the most fertile, and best cultivated in 
Europe, who can fail to exclaim, at first glimpse, nature and art have 
combined to render thee a little paradise? These were my first im- 
pressions—fully confirmed by closer observation. How one is struck, 
too, with the fine forms, and noble bearing, and often gigantic propor- 
tions of its inhabitants, especially of the higher orders, with their sim- 
ple and cultivated taste, in all that pertains to personal comfort, dress, 
and domestic arrangement. I could almost fancy, too, that even the 
very animals—cows, horses, dogs, goats, sheep—imitated the looks 
and movements of their masters. Certainly there are a close affinity 
and fondness between them; for they appear in every situation, in every 
picture, and are petted, caressed, and valued beyond measure. With 
feelings, and tastes, and propensities, so predominant among all classes 
at Brussels, and even throughout Belgium, how could the fine arts, from 
the earliest epochs, fail to flourish, and bring forth Rubens, Vandyck, 
Teniers, Champagne, De Crayer, Jordeans, Snyders, Maes, Vander- 
meulen, Breughel, Segers, Neefs, De Roi, the Chevalier Breydil, Koe- 
berger, Van Coxie, and others? Look, also, to Belgian artists of 
modern times, and of the present day, and recount the names of Omme- 
ganck, Odevaere, Verboeckhoven, Galliat, and Robbe. Full of these 
associations and reflections, I gazed at striking objects as the coach 7 
passed slowly along from street to street, surmounted the steep ascents, 
and roused me, at last, from agreeable reverie by halting at a hotel of 
very elevated character, so far as site and prospect were concerned, 
and equally imposing in every other respect—the Hotel de L’Europe. 
From a crow’s nest, in the fifth story, I obtained a magnificent view of 
the town, and its environs, and had little difficulty, after this panoramic 
display, of finding the residence of our representative at the Belgian 
court—Thomas G. Clemson, Esq.-—highly esteemed, at home, as a 
gentleman of talent, and scientific acquirements, equally appreciated 
abroad for the same qualities, and for the valuable services he renders 
our government, and the kindness and hospitality he extends to all 
Americans, fortunate enough to form his acquaintance. Upon calling at 
his mansion, pleasantly situated, near the boulevards, on the outside of 
the barriers, I had the pleasure to find himself and accomplished 
lady* at home, but on the eve of a visit, for a few hours, to Antwerp, 
twenty miles off. Learning my desire, however, to form the acquaint- 
ance of the prominent surgeons and physicians of Brussels, and to ex- 
amine its medical institutions, he kindly gave me a letter of introduction 
to Dr. William Hancock Parkinson, a member of the Royal College 
of Surgeons of Dublin, a graduate of the University of Edinburgh, 
physician to Sir Hamilton Seymour, the British ambassador—to whom 
he was recommended by his former physician, Dr. Charles Lever, 
author of Harry Lorrequer—and established, for the last six years, as 
a general practitioner in Brussels. With this gentleman I soon be- 
came intimate, and found in him all that warmth of heart, intelligence 
and professional information for which his countrymen, all over the 
world, are so remarkable—rendered the more interesting and conspicu- 
ous by a refinement and frankness which seemed, intuitively, to be- 
long to his large and very accomplished family. Upon expressing a 
wish to form the acquaintance of Suetin, the celebrated surgeon of the 
Hdpital St. Pierre, whose name and standing are very familiar to pro- 
fessional men of all countries—rendered so by the important share he 
has had in reviving the “ immovable apparatus'' and by the invention 
of a most ingenious modification of it, the “ Bandage Amidonne”—Dr. 
Parkinson was obliging enough to walk with me to his house. Owing, 
however, to his enormous practice, which keeps him, night and day, 
upon the trot, we did not find him at home; but, fortunately, a short time 
afterwards, met with him in the middle of one of the wide, fashionable 
streets, standing in the centre of a large group of people, with his hat 
off, bowing and scraping in every direction, answering their questions 
* Daughter of the Hon. J. C. Calhoun. 8 
and salutations, alternately; saying to one, “ Oh yes, your ladyship may 
certainly depend upon my calling at four to-morrowto another, “ Dear 
me, I did not observe your highness until this moment; I am just on 
my way to see you;” when, interrupted by a sprightly, nymph-like 
damsel of eighteen, who, shouldering the crowd from right to left, 
reached the spot, where he stood, at a single bound, seized both his 
hands, and exclaimed, “ Oh, Dr. Suetin, you story-telling man, I’ve 
been waiting for you these two days, and now I’ve caught you, and 
you sha’n’t get away till you have listened to my case.” During this 
scene I had fair opportunity of scrutinizing the figure and movements 
of this Belgian lion, and afterwards discovered that I had drawn very 
accurate conclusions respecting him. I saw, at a glimpse, indeed, that 
he was a finished gentleman, full of vivacity, and humor, and even wag- 
gery, when he chose to indulge in it, associated with shrewdness, tact, 
and sagacity, well calculated to push the fortune of any one possessed 
of a tithe of such qualities. His figure, eminently handsome, robust, 
above the medium height, displayed to the utmost advantage by the 
simplicity, neatness, texture and cut of his clothes; his quick, penetrat- 
ing, bluish-gray eye, full of thought and roguishness; his expressive, 
undulating, aquiline nose; his firm elastic step, well-turned leg, and 
tapering toes, conspicuously set off by a polished boot; his playfully 
firm manner of speaking and acting, and his whole bearing and de- 
meanor, indicated no common man. I had made up my mind, in less 
than two minutes, to be pleased with him ; and I continued so from first 
to last. After an introduction, I said to him, “ I have come to Brussels 
expressly to see you and your immovable apparatus, and to judge, im- 
partially, whether it deserves all the commendation and abuse which 
have been alternately lavished upon it. He pricked up his ears, like 
an old war horse at the sound of the trumpet, almost danced a horn- 
pipe, played off graceful airs in descanting upon the value of his hobby, 
said, energetically, “ come to St. Pierre to-morrow morning at eight, 
and be convinced,” sprung into his carriage, and then drove over the 
pavement at a fearful rate. 
The next day, at the appointed hour, Parkinson and myself directed 
our steps to the Hopital St. Pierre, and were soon joined by our friend 
Clemson, as an amateur. Half an hour elapsed, without evidence of 
Suetin, and his roistering car, being near. At last he came, and, out of 
breath, bolted through the shady grove, surrounding the venerable 
pile of buildings, crowded with patients of every age and sex—all too 
happy, when allowed to escape from its old and darksome wards, and to 
promenade, or rest, beneath the boughs of wide-spread beech and tow- 
ering elms, where we ourselves had sought a cool and pleasant retreat 9 
from an oppressive morning sun. As he approached the spot where 
we stood, he joyously cried out: “There, you see, at once, how much 
can be done by my bandages, starch and cartons. Look at those boys 
with broken thighs and legs; see, how they are skipping about with 
crutches and sticks, and some of their fractures not twelve days old ! 
Could they do as much if encumbered by the bandages and splints of 
Boyer and Desault ?” We were not prepared to gainsay his statements, 
or dispute his facts, which seemed to stare us in the face, and say— 
“ I dare you to deny what he has advanced.” “And now,” he continued, 
“ let me go to work, and give you further proofs of the excellence of my 
plans; for, although I have no perfectly recent case in the house upon 
which to demonstrate my methods and views, I will take, as an ex- 
ample, that boy’s thigh, fractured eleven days ago, remove the dress- 
ings, and let you see for yourselves, whether it is shortened or, in any 
way deformed.” Accordingly he commenced with a pair of strong 
spring shears, sharp at the extremity of one blade, probe-pointed at the 
other, to nip, or cut through the hardened case, which inclosed the 
limb, to the extent of a quarter of an inch at a time, continuing to cut 
until he had split the covering from the foot to the hip. Then, apply- 
ing his fingers to the edges of the cut case, he carefully separated 
them from the limb by slow and gradual eversion : taking especial pains 
to support the thigh at the fractured part, and to disturb the whole 
limb as little as possible, until he effected its complete delivery from 
the mould, in which it had, as it were, been cast. Its appearance, as 
he predicted, indicating nothing unfavorable, either on the surface of 
the skin, or in the position of the fragments of bone, he next placed, 
longitudinally, some linen strips, or compresses, over the skin, espe- 
cially about the seat of fracture; then took a narrow roller, made of 
old, thick, but very soft, flexible linen, and applied it circularly, and 
with very moderate firmness, to the whole limb, with exception of the 
instep and toes, which were left uncovered as an index of the condition 
of the inclosed parts. A painter’s brush, dipped in common starch, 
was then applied to the edges of the roller, and not over its entire sur- 
face, merely to connect them together externally: and, thereby, to 
prevent it from becoming stiff, and communicating close and disagree- 
able pressure to the skin beneath. Over the roller, thus applied, were 
laid parallel with the limb, and throughout its whole extent, several 
bags, or junks, about an inch and a half wide and half an inch thick, 
filled with tow: and. between these, and also parallel with them, a 
piece of tape, the ends of which extended beyond the toes and hip. 
Another roller was made to surround the limb and junks, and starch 
applied to its edges, in the same cautious way. Over this second roller 10 
were then placed thick paper-splints, cartons, or binder’s boards, 
light, spongy, and soft, and free from glue, or any similar material cal- 
culated to stiffen them. These splints, previously softened by water, 
extended from the spine of the ilium to the toes, were hollowed out 
and moulded to the limb, so as to surround it completely, and form a 
base, with the exception of the instep and toes. While these were 
held in their respective situations by assistants, Suetin applied another 
roller, well starched, except that portion which covered the ridge of 
the tibia, and connected all the splints firmly together. His object in 
keeping the starch from touching the dressings over the tibia, was to 
avoid irritation, which he had, from experience, found uncomfortable 
to patients, and injurious. Shorter bands, or rollers, were next applied, 
circularly, especially over the seat of fracture, and well plastered with 
starch. A loop, made out of strong linen, was also connected by starch 
and rollers to the foot, and hung beneath its sole, for the purpose of 
extension, in case of shortening of the limb, by overlapping of the 
fragments. To fill up inequalities, and to prevent the starched edges 
of the rollers from giving pain, by their hardness, layers of carded 
cotton were carefully placed in various situations, previous to the ap- 
plication of the splints. The whole process was completed by placing 
a piece of oiled silk, seven or eight inches square, on the inner and 
upper part of the thigh, to prevent the dressings from being soaked by 
urine, and the excoriation consequent thereto. In several other cases 
similar dressings were applied by Suetin—only modified by peculiari- 
ties of each case, and the individual bones broken, and in all with the 
same favorable result—without pain or complaint on the part of the 
patients, and with every prospect of perfect cure, whilst walking about 
with the assistance of a stick, or crutch. Under progress of treatment 
were shown to us, upon the same occasion, ten or twelve cases of frac- 
tured thighs, legs, arms, clavicles, all in a fair way towards consolida- 
tion of fragments and cure, without confinement to bed, or to the hospital, 
except at night. In the clavicle cases, the apparatus of Desault was 
applied, and the outer bandages, being well brushed and saturated with 
starch, seemed to hold their places so firmly as not to require, probably, 
a removal until a cure should be effected. After showing us all the 
wards of this large and ancient hospital, prescribing for its numerous 
syphilitic patients, male and female, and for various cases of medical 
surgery, Suetin's attention was called to one of those obscure and 
complicated fractures of the radius, just above the wrist, which the 
most eminent surgeons have found so difficult to detect and treat. 
The injury had been sustained a few hours before; and swelling hav- 
ing supervened, it became extremely difficult for any one to pronounce 11 
decisively, respecting the exact nature of the injury. Fatigued as he 
was, however, and almost worn out by the exertions he had made for 
several hours, in demonstrating, for our benefit, the principles which 
governed him, and the practice he employed in the treatment, not only 
of fractures, but of various other diseases, such as abscesses, ulcera- 
tions, carious joints, coxalgia, varicose veins, by the “ Bandage Ami- 
donne,” he repaired, at once, to the assistance of the patient, examined 
his wrist, pronounced the injury to be a fracture of the radius, half an 
inch above its lower extremity, applied his dressings in such a way as 
to preserve the interosseous space, controlled the hand by a broad splint, 
extending beyond the fingers, fastened all together by his starched 
rollers, placed the forearm in a flexed position, sustained it by a sling, 
and promised the patient a perfect cure in two or three weeks. “How 
long,” said I, “ will you keep that apparatus applied ?” “ Only for two or 
three days,” was the reply. “If,” he continued, “it were suffered to 
remain too long, and without passive motion of the wrist, anchylosis or 
stiffness of tendons, might ensue.” This convinced me he knew what 
he was about, and I left the hospital much edified by all I had seen; 
and convinced that the immovable apparatus, if managed with the skill 
and caution of a Suetin, is decidedly superior, in the generality of 
cases, to most other dressings ; and equally well calculated to inflict a 
vast amount of injury, if employed by those ignorant of its mechanism 
and power. 
We were all much amused, before leaving St. Pierre, at Suetin’s 
demonstrations of another kind. He exclaimed, after getting through 
his six hours’ work, “ Dear me, I never was so hungry in all my life ! 
here, garcon, get me a beef stake, and a bottle of Chablis.” Both were 
furnished without delay, and he made a regular set to at the commodi- 
ties, and with less ceremony and care than he had displayed towards 
the fractures. And yet, this practice of going “ hospital rounds” be- 
fore breakfast, is almost universal in France, and on the continent, and 
ought to be followed, I should imagine, by many an inconvenience and 
dyspeptic attack. However, most of the Belgian and Parisian, and 
German and Dutch surgeons and physicians I saw, were proofs to the 
contrary; many of them being as bright and rosy and chubby as boys ; 
and Suetin, in particular, although now fifty-five, might readily pass 
for forty: and looks as if he had never had an ache or pain in his life, 
notwithstanding all he has endured, professionally, from civil and 
military practice, and the contests and squabbles he has had about the 
“ Bandage Amidonne,” with French and Flemish and German rivals, 
who have kept him, perpetually, in hot water, and upon the defensive, 
by obliging him to publish pamphlets, such as—“Memoire stir le Traite- 12 
merit des Fractures en general, par le Bandage Amidonne “ Ob- 
servations de Fractures Compliquees “Lettre a M. le Redacteur du 
Bulletin Medicate Beige ; une repome a un article de M. Velpeau, 
entitule Explications sur L. Appareil inamovible, fyc.“ Revue 
generate des principaux cas de Chirurgie “A Monsieur le Redac- 
teur de la Lancette Frangais“ Coup d'CEil Chirurgical, sur les 
principaux cas qui se sont presenter a la Clinique du Professeur 
Suetin, pendant le semestre de 1846;” “ Fracture Compliquee de la 
jambedroite, reponse a M.Le Professeur Blandin“Lettre Addressee 
a L'Academie Royale de Medecine de Belgique, a-propos de la Dis- 
cussion sur la Methode Amovo, inamovible— independently of an 
octavo volume on the Starch Bandage, including many details not met 
with in the controversial memoirs. It would be out of place, in an 
address like this, to extend the consideration of the merits or demerits 
of the “Bandage Amidonne,” further; but I cannot avoid remarking, 
in defence and justification of Dr. Suetin, that he never pretended to 
claim for himself the original invention of an immovable apparatus ; 
which, he confessed from the first, to have been used in ancient times, 
under various forms and modifications, by the Persians, Greeks, Egyp- 
tians, Arabians, Moors, Spaniards, Corsicans, Indians, Brazilians, and, 
at later periods, by Belloste, Moscati, Ledran, and Cheselden ; and 
still more recently, by the celebrated Larrey, during his military cam- 
paigns ;—that all he contended for, was the substitution of starch in 
place of the less appropriate materials previously used, the superiority 
of his particular dressings, and mode of applying them, and the injus- 
tice done him by Velpeau, Blandin, Malgaigne, and others, in mis- 
representing the results of his practice, exaggerating the defects of his 
apparatus, as exhibited by him in most of the Parisian hospitals, dur- 
ing his interesting sojourn in that city for several weeks in the year 
1839. That he is borne out by the facts, stated in all his defensive 
memoirs, and by those furnished by his friend and pupil Pigeolet, 
in his interesting historical sketch of the “ Bandage Amidonne 
that his apparatus is very superior to the imitation of it by Velpeau 
—who employs the hard and. unyielding article “dextrine,” instead 
of starch, and the bandage of Scultetus, instead of the roller—I am 
prepared to believe, from having repeatedly witnessed the effect of 
each, as applied by the hands of Velpeau himself in La Charite, and 
by those of Suetin in St. Pierre. 
During my stay in Brussels of eight or ten days, and during another 
visit subsequently made to it, I saw much of Suetin in his professional 
character, and in his social circle. Scarcely a day passed without 
witnessing, at his hospital, some of his practice and exploits; and in 13 
turn, he was curious to learn American modes of treatment, and our 
system of operative surgery. Upon one occasion, he said, whilst din- 
ing with our friend Clemson, “I have just received intelligence of the 
admission into my hospital of an old woman laboring under strangulated 
hernia. Will you do me the favor to undertake her case, and show 
me the American mode of performing the operation, if one should prove 
necessary for her relief.” I consented so to do, and, accompanied by 
Suetin, Clemson and Parkinson, reached the hospital about the com- 
mencement of twilight. As soon, however, as I saw the patient’s dis- 
tressed and haggard countenance, and touched her tight, tender and dis- 
tended abdomen, always most unfavorable omens in cases of the kind, I 
said to Suetin, “ In my opinion an operation here will be of no avail; 
the bowel has been too long strictured, and peritoneal inflammation has 
already taken place; nevertheless, if you say so, I will operate, inas- 
much as it will add very little to her suffering, and may possibly be 
followed by success.”* Preliminaries being settled, I commenced the 
operation, with light barely sufficient to enable me to see what I was 
about, divided the skin, superficial fascia, fascia propria, by separating 
their successive layers, reached the sac, opened it by pinching up a 
fold and passing the knife horizontally, then dilated it by the probe- 
pointed bistoury, arrived at the intestine and omentum, both of which 
were discolored and engorged, insinuated my forefinger as high as the 
stricture, passed the bistoury beneath it, divided it, returned the intes- 
tine and omentum, closed the wound by two or three tacks of the inter- 
rupted suture, passed through the integuments, and supported all by 
the “bandage amidonne.” Suetin expressed his surprise that I should 
have used the knife so freely, wondered that I had not cut the intestine, 
said the practice in Belgium was to employ the scissors, and to take 
up a great deal of time in making the incisions, &c. As predicted, no 
benefit followed, and the patient died about the fourth day—from peri- 
* The history of the case obligingly furnished by Dr. Suetin: “ La nommee 
marie, agee de 58 ans, se presente a 1‘hopital St. Pierre le 23 Juillet, atteinte de 
hernie crurale. La malade operee par Monsieur Gibson, presente comme symp- 
tomes generaux, le suivants. Tumeur renitente, douloureuse a la pression. Cir- 
convolutions intestinales se dessinant a travers les parois abdominales. Ventre 
meteorise et douloureux. Absence de selles depuis le 18. Courant vomissements 
presentant l’odeur de matieres stercorales; ces vomissements remontent au 21. La 
hernie debute par une tumeur, dont le volume egalait celui d un pois; il y-a de cela 
15 jours. Au bout de huit jours, c’est-a-dire, a dater du 18 Juillet, cette tumeure 
augmente, et c’est alors seulement que les symptomes enonces plus haut se de- 
clarent. La face, a son entree, accuse l'anxiete, est grippee. Le pouls endessous 
de la normale. Au moment de faire Poperation, la malade rend par le haut des 
matieres stercorales liquides.” 14 
toneal inflammation—showing, as in all similar cases, delay to be the 
chief cause of danger, and not the knife', which, when early employed, 
is almost uniformly successful. 
I will close my account of Suetin by observing, that he stands, by 
common consent, at the head of the profession in Belgium, has had a 
very large share of experience, part of which was earned on the great 
battle-field of Waterloo—near which he was born—and subsequently, 
at the siege of Antwerp; that he is naturally a man of great ability, of 
great activity of mind and body, very enthusiastic in all he undertakes, 
'remarkable for his personal attractions and manners, and bonhomie and 
pleasantries ; and admirably calculated, from these and his well known 
substantial, professional merits, to make a very strong impression upon 
minds of the highest order and attainment. This has lately been 
evinced by the honor conferred upon him by the king, who, as I learn 
through a valued correspondent at Brussels, has just enrolled him in 
the list of aristocratic worthies, by creating him a Baron of the empire, 
—in addition to his former titles of Chevalier of the order of the Belgic 
Lion, and of the Legion of Honor of Leopold the First. 
Among other eminent professional men with whom I became ac- 
quainted at Brussels, I may mention Andre Uytlerhoeven, surgeon in 
chief to the new and splendid “ Ilopital St. Jean." He is a small, 
thin man, very gentle and kind in demeanor, slow in speech and gait, 
has a grave, thoughtful, but pleasant countenance, and is evidently full of 
judgment and information. In personal appearance and character, he 
reminded me strongly of our own estimable and excellent physician 
and surgeon Dr. Ashmead. I met him for the first time at “ St. Jean" 
and he very obligingly conducted me through the whole establishment, 
pointing out all the recent improvements in ventilation, the peculiar 
modes of conducting heat by flues through all the vast entries, galleries, 
wards, various out-houses and spacious baths, of this magnificent and 
recently finished hospital. In going through one of the lofty wards, he 
called my attention to a striking and most interesting case—that of a 
stout, healthy-looking woman of thirty-five, in whom the constitutional 
tendency to hemorrhage was so great, that the blood issued constantly 
from the fingers and toes, and almost every pore of the body, especially 
during the regular period of catamenial flow. What rendered the case 
more remarkable, was an accompanying disease of the heart, and the 
strongest possible apoplectic disposition—only subdued, perhaps, by the 
perpetual hemorrhagic oozing and discharge. Another extraordinary 
case was also shown, in which a man, originally afflicted with mollities 
ossium, had the disease converted, after lapse of years, into fragilitas, 
to such extent as to involve almost the entire skeleton, and require the 15 
immovable apparatus to be kept constantly upon the thighs, and some 
other bones, to prevent them from giving way from the slightest move- 
ments, whilst in bed. After full examination of all the medical and 
surgical wards, inferior, perhaps, for spaciousness, convenience and 
cleanliness, to none in any part of the world, Dr. Uytterhoeven con- 
ducted me to the ophthalmic department, under the control of Fleurent 
Cimier, a gentleman well known in Europe, through his “ Revue oph- 
thalmalogique,” his “ Annales iV Oculistique,” and his “Recherclies sur 
I'emploi de quelques combinaisons du Cyanogene dans le traitement des 
maladies des yeux.” It so happened that Cimier was then going his 
rounds, and prescribing for his patients, most of them afflicted with 
scrofulous ophthalmia and granular disease of the lids, in the treatment 
of which he generally employed the argentum nitratum in its solid 
form, and with the most beneficial result. I found him extremely civil 
and obliging, very enthusiastic in his vocation, laudably inquisitive re- 
specting American ophthalmic surgery and its treatment; and drew the 
conclusion from all I saw, that he was full of talent and energy, very 
confident in the correctness of his own views and practice, in all that 
relates to the eye, though not disagreeably and ostentatiously so; and 
bent ambitiously upon reaching, as an oculist, the summit of renown. 
He is a tall, thin, courteous man, apparently about thirty-five, with 
large, expressive eyes, and agreeable features, very springy and active 
in all his movements, as quick in his apprehension as in the use of his 
fingers and instruments, and looks, from hi& lithe and flexible figure 
and animated face, as if he would be sure to take the lead in a gray- 
hound chase, and come out first, no matter how fast his competitors 
might go. 
There is, in the “ Hopital St. Jean,” a large and choice collection 
of surgical instruments, an excellent library, and some fine pathological 
preparations and specimens. Among the latter, I was shown by Dr. 
Uytterhoeven, an enormous calculus, measuring, in its longitudinal cir- 
cumference, twelve inches, and in its greatest transverse diameter, eleven; 
taken by him, unsuccessfully, through the high operation, from a man 
of thirty-nine, who had labored under the disease from infancy. It was 
the largest urinary calculus I had ever seen, except the one in the 
Hunterian Museum in London, removed by Sir James Earle, from the 
bladder of Sir Walter Ogilby, after death, and was found to weigh forty- 
four ounces. 
Before taking leave of Drs. Uytterhoeven and Cunier, I was carried 
by them to the upper wards of the “ Hopital St. Jean,” and shown 
one of the finest and most extended prospects I ever beheld, reaching 
as far as the eye could see, over prairie-like meadows and luxuriant 16 
grain-fields, dotted, in every direction, with white and shining villages, 
and with chateaus and castles of the nobility, inexpressibly beautiful 
and picturesque. Among these, seen to the utmost advantage, is 
“Lseken,” the summer residence of the king, better known in bygone 
days as the rural retreat of the excellent, but unfortunate, Josephine; 
who there sojourned, for convenient correspondence, with her then 
affectionate master and lord, whilst he reveled in carnage and death 
on many a distant battle-field. Better, by far, had he never known, 
in after times, a loftier palace and another Q,ueen !* 
Can I cease to speak of fascinating, salubrious Brussels, without 
saying to every medical student, likely to visit France, go, after a win- 
ter’s hard work in the metropolis of the medical world—leave the in- 
quinated atmospheres of old Hotel Dieu, La Charite, La Pitie, St. 
Louis—turn your backs upon typhus fever and cholera, crowded streets, 
noisome smells, tropical heats—jump into luxurious cars, and be wafted, 
in a single night, to green fields, wide streets, open squares, delicious 
groves, umbrageous parks—go to Brussels, seek out the Baron Suetin; 
tell him you wish to spend six months under his care in the “ Hopital 
St. Pierre”—go to Uytterlioeven, to Cunier, to Parkinson ; tell them 
all I sent you there, to learn what you cannot learn elsewhere to the 
same advantage, the treatment of fractures ; to preserve your health and 
strength, to enable you to return to the “pays latins” and “ Ecole de 
Medecine,” the succeeding autumn, freshened in vigor of mind and 
body, and prepared to sustain another well-fought winter’s campaign ? 
Fail not to remember, too, whilst sojourning in the Belgian capital, to 
revel in the luxuries of taste and design ; spend your leisure hours at 
the Royal Museum of painting and sculpture ; there examine the pic- 
tures of Christ armed with thunder to destroy the world ; the Martyr- 
dom of St. Jjieven; the Adoration of the Magi; Christ falling under 
the weight of the Cross ; the Coronation of the Virgin; a Dead Christ 
at the Sepulchre, all by Rubens; dwell upon a candle-light by Gerard 
Dow; upon another by Schalken; scrutinize a splendid picture by 
Snyders, representing a swan and other birds, and fruits; also a capital 
* With Dr. Carswell, formerly Professor in the London University, and celebrated 
for his pathological writings, I did not meet during my sojourn in Brussels, in which 
city he now resides, and holds the high and responsible office of Physician to the 
King and his household. He was absent, having accompanied the king, whose 
health is delicate, to Paris, for the purpose of consulting some of the eminent physi- 
cians of that capital on his case. I regretted very much not meeting with him, as I 
had formed his acquaintance some years before in London, and found him in every 
respect a most interesting man. From his Belgian friends I learned that he was en- 
joying the otium cum dignitate, so justly his due, after the labor he had gone through 
for so many preceding years in his native land. 17 
head by Rembrandt:—then turn to the productions of the living artists 
of Brussels; and first to those of Louis Robbe, a lawyer by profession, an 
accomplished gentleman, a worthy and honest man, and a painter of rare 
merit; then to splendid pictures of Verboeckhoven, also a living 
artist of Brussels, famous for the number and excellence of his pic- 
tures ; then visit, at her studio, Madame Oconnel, a lively, black-eyed 
brunette, full of talent, famous for her portraits ; go next to the resi- 
dence of Gallait, an historical painter of great celebrity; ask to see the 
picture of a Monk, with right arm folded over left shoulder, and the 
left laid upon the Bible, the head and hands magnificently painted in 
the style of Murillo or Velasques, absolutely standing out from the 
canvas, and looking more like the head and eyes of the “ banished 
lord," by Sir Joshua Reynolds, than any other picture I ever beheld, 
and not unlike, in expression, the fine features of the late Dr. Godman ; 
ask, also, permission to examine his fine picture representing the temp- 
tation of St. Anthony ; go afterwards to the Palais de Justice, and see 
another large and magnificent picture by Gallait, representing the ab- 
dication of Charles the Fifth; walk to the large and tasteful man- 
sion of Eugene Verboeckhoven, and you will there see the most finished 
specimens of horses, dogs, sheep, goats, cows, lions, tigers, standing out 
from the canvas in perfect relief; at your leisure go to the palace of 
the Duke d’Aremberg, and repeat the visit again and again, and there 
behold some of the finest pictures of Rubens, Vandyke, Rysdale, Te- 
niers, Paul Potter, Botlie, Wouvermans, Gerard Dow, Ostade, Jan 
Steen, Brauer, Kuyp, and hundreds of others, all in the most perfect 
preservation; lastly, go to the private residence of an amateur and re- 
spectable citizen, Mr. Vanderbergen, and study his fine collection of 
modern pictures, many of which are of exquisite touch and finish, and 
quite equal to the best of the old masters. Those most worthy of no- 
tice, are two pictures by Van Eycken, the one representing a mother 
and child sleeping, the other a mother and child just starting out of 
sleep ; a beautiful picture representing sheep by Omeganck, of Ant- 
werp ; another by Bellanger, of Paris, a scene after a battle ; a mon- 
key scene by Decamps, of Paris ; the interior of a kitchen, by Dyck- 
mans; a lion hunt, by Horace Vernet; a sea piece, by Gudin ; a herd 
of cattle, by Robbe, of Brussels; a miniature, exquisitely painted, of a 
dog, cat, woman, and brass kettle, by Brias, of Brussels ; another, by 
the same artist, representing market women; a very fine picture by 
Lucks, called the bad husband, in which a man is represented in the 
act of leaving his wife and children, but is arrested in his flight by the 
entreaties of an elderly female—the countenance of the man and the 
distress of his wife being inimitable ; a very fine representation of the 18 
exterior of a church, by Sabron, of Paris ; a storm at sea, by Scholtal, 
of Holland, uncommonly fine; a landscape, by Koeckoeck, of Holland, 
also very fine ; a droll scene, by Noel, of Brussels; an admirable re- 
presentation of a dead hare, and bird, by Mrs. Hallemans, of Brussels, 
the landscape by her husband; a very fine landscape, by Be Jonghe, 
of Belgium; a capital flower piece, by Jacoblear, of Paris, equal to 
most of Be Heem's; sheep and goats by Verboeckhoven, of Brussels; 
an inimitable picture by Winterhalten, of Germany, painter to Queen 
Victoria, representing a mother and child; a castle, river, and boats,by 
Vervaer, of Holland, estimated at an enormous price; a landscape, by 
Schel/hont, of Holland, the animals by Verboeckhoven—cost a very 
large sum ; another capital picture by Brias; a beautiful Swiss land- 
scape by Calame; and many others equally well painted and valuable. 
During the whole of my stay in Brussels, including two visits made 
at different periods, I had the opportunity of attending an exhibition, 
which would have reflected high honor upon the taste, skill, and me- 
chanical ingenuity of any nation upon the globe. I allude to an “Expo- 
sition" of the products of Belgian industry, upon the principle of the 
Franklin Institute of Philadelphia, and of other similar establishments in 
the United States, but upon a scale and plan infinitely more extended 
and diversified. It would be impossible for me, in the small space of 
a single lecture, to enumerate the thousandth part of all the articles, 
and fabrics, and inventions, and contrivances, I there saw, displayed to 
the utmost advantage in an immense building two or three hundred 
yards long, and proportionably high—erected for the purpose. Suffice 
it, therefore, to say, that each province of Eastern and Western Flan- 
ders, of Antwerp, of Brabant, of Hainaut, of Luxembourg, of Lim- 
bourg, of Liege, of Namur;—that each town, and city, and village, 
and hamlet, including Brussels, and Ghent, and Antwerp, and Lou- 
vain, and Bruges, and Malines, and Tournay, and Lierre, and Tirl- 
mont, and Nieuport, and Tongres, and Alost, and Fumes, and Bixmud, 
and Termonde, and St. Trond, and Audenarde, and lpres, and Char- 
leroy, and Jemmappes, and Courtray, and Verviers, and St. Nicholas, 
and Nivelles, and Laeken, and Vilvorde, and Braine le Comte, and 
Enghien, and a hundred more, all contributed their quota to make up 
the most magnificent display I ever beheld, of silks, velvets, satins, 
laces, cloths, cassimeres, flannels, linens, carpets, locomotives, steam- 
engines, cutlery, surgical instruments, guns, pistols, swords, furniture, 
carriages, chemical preparations, glass ware, anatomical preparations, 
and of thousands of other articles it would be impossible for me to 
particularize—all showing the wonderful sagacity, and industry, and 
wealth, and prosperity, and indomitable energy of the Belgians, for 19 
which they have been celebrated from the earliest periods of their 
history. I make these remarks without excepting the similar gorgeous 
displays I have witnessed in some other places, even upon a more 
extensive scale. 
Any student who may feel disposed to follow my counsel, and spend 
the summer months at Brussels, will naturally desire, for the sake of 
relaxation, and the information he will acquire, to pay occasional visits 
to the adjoining towns and villages; all which can be done, at little 
cost and trouble, through the numerous railways extended in every 
direction throughout the country. He will visit Liege, on account of 
its former and present pre-eminence in manufactures, and the hilly and 
romantic character of its scenery, compared with the dull and prairie- 
like aspect of the greater part of Belgium; Louvain, from its splendid 
hotel de ville, and the history and associations connected with its 
ancient and celebrated university, which once contained 6000 stu- 
dents ; Ghent, from its history, also, and the interesting circumstances 
attending the treaty formed there, a few years since, by our statesmen, 
some of whom still live, and have strong hold, from their high charac- 
ter and eminent services, upon the gratitude and affections of the 
American people ; Antwerp, from its wealth and commercial import- 
ance, its peculiar appearance, strong position and fortifications, its 
sieges, but, immeasurably beyond these, from having been, it may be 
said, the birthplace of Rubens, whose unequaled productions still 
adorn the cathedrals and churches, and other public buildings, for 
which they were painted. The first and most glorious of these, though 
now changed by the corroding hand of time, by ignorant picture 
dealers, by its journey to Paris and return thence, still occupies its 
original position in the great cathedral of Notre Lame; hangs in the 
southern transept near the door opening upon the Place Verte, has long 
been considered the chef-d'oeuvre of Rubens, and well known under the 
appellation, “the Descent from the Cross." Brilliant, however, as this 
picture must have been in its coloring when first painted, and inimi- 
table in some parts of the drawing, it is not comparable, in my opinion, 
to the Crucifixion, now contained in the museum of Antwerp. No- 
thing, indeed, it seems to me, can exceed this truly magnificent picture, 
which is of immense size, and contains full-length figures of Christ, 
the Two Thieves, the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalen, Mary the wife 
of Cleophas, an executioner piercing the side of the Saviour, another 
breaking the legs of one of the thieves, and the Good Centurion, on 
horseback, all grouped in the most wonderful manner, and calculated, by 
their countenances and attitudes—so expressive of the emotions pecu- 
liar to each—by freshness of coloring, and transparency, and exquisite 20 
finish, to astonish every beholder. Indeed, I could hardly tear myself 
away from it, and felt for weeks afterwards as if it were the only pic- 
ture I had ever seen entirely destitute of blemish or defect. Another 
picture, by the same artist, and of equal dimensions, hangs opposite to 
the Crucifixion, the Adoration of the Magi—and, if placed in any 
other situation, or seen first, could not fail to make a very strong im- 
pression; for it is, in reality, a picture of very great merit, but is so 
overshadowed by its propinquity to its companion, as to appear com- 
paratively almost valueless. Other pictures, in this large collection, 
are very fine, such as the Interment of Christ, by Quentin Metsys 
the blacksmith of Antwerp ; the Saviour Dead, in the arms of his 
father; a diminished picture of the Descent from the Cross; Christ 
showing his wounds to St. Thomas; the Virgin with the infant Jesus; 
portraits of burgomasters of Antwerp—all by Rubens ; the Supper, 
by Jordaens ; portrait of Ceesar Alexander Scaglia, by Vandyck ; a 
large garland of flowers, by Segers and Schutz; Swan, by Snyders ; 
flowers, by Van Thielen; a fine Teniers, and some large modern 
pictures representing the siege of Antwerp by the Spaniards. Some 
of the private collections of Antwerp are also choice, and well deserv- 
ing of a visit; but are not always accessible to strangers. In a medi- 
cal point of view, there is little in Antwerp to interest a student. The 
hospital is large, and full of patients, though not remarkable, it is said, 
for cleanliness or discipline. 
Few persons, I presume, whatever may be their profession, or pur- 
suit, will be inclined to leave Brussels, without visiting the great field 
of Waterloo—distant only ten miles from that capital. How very few, 
however, of all the pilgrims to that much frequented shrine, will be 
able or willing to profit by the lessons they will there learn of the in- 
stability of human greatness and power, of the vanity and worthless- 
ness of pride and pomp and show, of the wretchedness and woe 
entailed upon thousands of widows and orphans by the result of that 
“ great and glorious battle,” as it is called, and of the wickedness 
resulting from the violation of those heavenly precepts, “ peace on earth, 
and good will towards men.” But the thinking few, at least, will be 
ready to exclaim, after such a tour— 
“ On what foundation stands the warrior’s pride, 
How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide; 
A frame of adamant, a soul of lire, 
No dangers fright him, and no labors tire; 
O’er love, o’er fear, extends his wide domain, 
Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain; 21 
No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, 
War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field ; 
‘ Behold surrounding kings their powers combine, 
And one capitulate, and one resign; 
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain, 
'Think nothing gained,’ he cries, ‘ ’till nought remain; 
On Moscow’s walls till Gothic standards fly, 
And all be mine beneath the polar sky.’ 
The march begins in military state, 
And nations on his eye suspended wait; 
Stern famine guards the solitary coast, 
And winter barricades the realms of frost; 
He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay; 
Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa’s day: 
The vanquished hero leaves his broken bands, 
And shows his miseries in distant lands; 
Condemned a needy supplicant to wait, 
While ladies interpose, and slaves debate ; 
But did not chance, at length, her error mend ? 
Did no subverted empire mark his end ? 
Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? 
Or hostile millions press him to the ground? 
His fall was destined to a barren strand, 
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; 
He left a name, at which the world grew pale, 
To point a moral or adorn a tale.” 
Such were the thoughts and reflections which pressed upon me as 
I rode, with my friend Parkinson, o’er hill and dale, through dusky 
groves of straight and towering beech which almost lined the way to 
Waterloo. The day and month—16th of August, 1847—were singu- 
larly well chosen for the excursion, the sun being so bright, the atmo- 
sphere so clear, as to enable us to distinguish every interesting object 
at an immense distance ; while the fields, divested of their luxuriant 
crops of grass and grain, permitted us to ride and walk in peace and 
safety, where thousands, thirty years before, had ridden on the “ whirl- 
wind and reaped the storm.” But I have no intention to inflict upon 
you a description of Waterloo ; its horrors having been sufficiently por- 
trayed by a thousand pens, more graphic and efficient by far than 
mine. Allow me only to say—that I stood where Napoleon, at first 
proudly, but at last humiliatingly stood before ; where Wellington, 
through the matchless quality of Anglo-Saxon blood, and the unsur- 
passed power of Anglo-Saxon sinew and bone, maintained his ground 
from beginning to end, and almost without a waver in his line, defied 
the talents and combinations of the greatest military chieftain the world 
ever saw, and the reiterated onsets of as brave and enthusiastic troops 22 
as ever assembled upon a battle-field; where Picton, and Ponsonby, 
and Gordon, and Delancey, and the brave “ Hanoverians” fell; where 
Ney, with all the intrepidity and desperation belonging to his nature, 
made charge upon charge of the most appalling kind ; where the farm 
La Haye, steeped in carnage and in blood, taken and retaken with 
tremendous loss, more especially to the noble German Legion, which 
fought till every drop of blood was poured from its veins; where J,a 
Belle Alliance and Planchenoit, so disastrous to the six thousand valiant 
Prussians, whose dead bodies cumbered their grounds ; where Cha- 
teau Hougournont, with its fortified and battered walls, defended by 
the “ Cold Stream Guards," repulsed, with terrific slaughter, thou- 
sands upon thousands of the flower of the Emperor's troops; and 
lastly, where, from the summit of the “ Lion Mound," two hundred feet 
above the level and extended plain, formed, apparently by nature for 
such a conflict, I could see and understand, as far as limited military 
knowledge would admit—all that had taken place. 
But other aspirations, more interesting to me by far than military 
skill and glory and destruction of human life, upon a gigantic scale, 
expended too often, there is reason to believe, upon the hideous and 
revolting principle, millions must die “ that Caesar may be great," 
crowded upon my mind. Then I asked myself the question, who were 
the true heroes upon that trying occasion, who the good Samaritans, 
able and willing to bind up wounds upon the road-side, for friends or 
foes, prepared to save life, not to destroy it ? The response came in 
soothing, refreshing whispers—Larrey, with his whole corps of well 
educated, experienced surgeons and compatriots ; Hennen, replete with 
Hunterian principles, and with practical skill, the result of many a hard 
fought day, surrounded by his friends and assistants, Obeirne, Knox, 
Gordon, Browning, Lindsay, Simpson, Irwin, Blackadder, Laisne, 
Bakers, Somerville, Lease, Reid, Robinson, Gunning, Pockets, Suetin, 
Spangenberg—sustained by the invaluable counsel of Guthrie, Thom- 
son, Bell. These, I repeat, ivere the heroes of the day, will be so con- 
sidered in after times, by every enlightened and Christian people, will 
receive, like Ambrose Pare, of old, rewards and honors greater than 
emperors and kings can bestow—those of an approving conscience and 
of the King ol kings—and will be entitled to feel and to say— 
‘•Regum timcndorum in proprios groges, 
Reges in ipsos imperium est Jovis.” 
That the great battle of Waterloo, however, in conjunction with many 
preceding ones in Russia, Germany, Holland, and Spain, has been pro- 
ductive of immeasurable good, by enlarging our knowledge of gun-shot 23 
wounds and corresponding injuries, there cannot be the smallest doubt; 
for, previous to these periods, the notions of surgeons were loose and 
vacillating in the extreme, and their principles so indecisive and un- 
settled, and so mixed up with disputations and theories, as to lead to 
the most injudicious and unsuccessful modes of treatment; whereas 
now, under the clear and steady light which pathological anatomy and 
medical science have shed conjointly upon military and naval sur- 
gery, intertwining the two indissolubly, each has been rendered more 
exact and luminous; so much so, that any mere surgeon or physician, 
who should now undertake to treat a gun-shot wound of the head, neck, 
chest, abdomen, or limbs, without that combination, and without having 
derived his knowledge from the battle-field, or frigate’s deck, or some 
other available source, would be unmindful of his patient’s safety, and 
of the public weal. 
The only relic I thought it worthwhile to remove from Waterloo, was 
a French cranium—at least, so I judged from its conformation—dug up 
two weeks before from the Prussian ground; well calculated to prove 
the important principle in projectiles, that a bullet passing from 
a rare medium into a dense one, makes a round and comparatively 
smooth opening; but having passed through the dense medium into a 
rare one, produces, necessarily, a much larger opening. Thus, in the 
cranium alluded to, the ball entered the left parietal bone, near its 
junction with the occipital, making an opening very little larger than 
itself on the outer table of the bone, but the sixteenth part of an inch 
larger on the internal edge of the inner table, then passing through the 
brain and out on the opposite side, fracturing both tables extensively, 
and making a very large opening. Another cranium, illustrating the 
same effect, though not to the same extent, found at Waterloo twenty 
years ago, and presented to me soon after by my kind friend Dr. Alex- 
ander E. Hosack, of New York, is still in my possession. Upon com- 
paring them with each other, after my return, I could not avoid 
expressing, mentally, to each : “ Alas, poor Yorick ! perhaps marched, 
unwillingly, to the fatal field, thence rudely torn from your resting- 
place, and made to serve in a distant hemisphere, purposes you could 
never have dreamed of in La Belle France, your happy native land !” 
Few countries, in proportion to its population, could boast, in former 
times, of more exalted names in the various departments of our profes- 
sion, than Belgium; but there is one name so intimately associated 
with all that is remarkable in genius, in learning, in practical skill, in 
all that pertains to curious and romantic history and to misfortune, and 
it may be, to crime, as to deserve marked consideration. You have 
all heard, no doubt, of Andrew Vesalius, born at Brussels, some two 24 
hundred and thirty years ago, received at Louvain a highly finished 
education, studied anatomy and surgery at Paris, entered the army of 
Charles the Fifth as a surgeon, became the physician of the same 
monarch, settled at his imperial court, served successively in the same 
capacity under Philip the Second, whose son Prince Charles, he saved 
the life of by a new and well-timed operation, taught anatomy with 
distinguished applause in the different schools of Padua, Bologna, and 
Pisa, published a magnificent work, entitled, “ De corporis humani 
fabrica,” in two large folio volumes, the plates of which were drawn 
by his friend and companion Titian, a work so correct and minute in 
all its details, and so accurate in its plates, as to procure for its author 
the reputation of having been the first to rescue anatomy from the 
shackles by which it was restricted, to establish it upon a solid founda- 
tion, and to advance the principles and practice of surgery, to an un- 
precedented degree. In the midst of this brilliant career, being called 
upon to attend a Spanish gentleman whose body, after death, he was 
permitted to open and inspect, and the heart being observed to beat, he 
was summoned before the Inquisition, and would have been condemned, 
but for the exertions of the king, who obtained his release upon condi- 
tion that he should expiate his crime by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. 
Thither, accordingly, he repaired; and after a residence of some time 
at Jerusalem, being invited to occupy the anatomical chair at Padua, 
and accepting the proposal, he sailed for Europe, was shipwrecked 
upon the island of Zante, and perished in the fiftieth year of his age. 
Such is the history of Vesalius, as transmitted to us from the earliest 
periods, and generally conceded to be true. A very extraordinary 
version, however, having, within the last two or three years, met the 
public eye, in the shape of a well-written narrative, the main incidents 
of which are believed by some to be founded in fact, I shall take the 
liberty to condense for your amusement, if not for your benefit, some 
of the statements, more especially as the source from which they are 
derived, may not be very accessible to most medical readers. The 
account is professed to have been derived from an ancient manuscript, 
on parchment, accidentally found between the backs of two pictures, 
glued together, each picture in the style of Titian, and supposed to be 
the work of his hand. 
“Andrea Vesale,” says the manuscript, “first saw the light in the 
city of Brussels, in tjje year 1614. His father was an apothecary, 
attached to the personal service of the Princess Margaret, aunt of the 
Emperor Charles the Fifth, and governess of the Low Countries. Provi- 
dence conferred upon him the double advantage of being a native of the 
land which divides with Italy the glory of being the richest and the most 25 
enlightened among the nations of the earth, of coming into the world at 
a period when a general and healthy ferment in the minds of men, had, 
in a great measure, tended to break through and disperse the stagnant 
scum of ignorance and barbarism which had hitherto obscured them. 
Already had this irrepressible movement led to results the most glorious, 
and the several discoveries of gunpowder, of printing, and the still more 
important one of the New World, in opening a boundless field for the 
energies of mankind, had given a new and ennobling direction to their 
destinies. The spirit of the times in which Vesale was born, naturally 
influenced his character and pursuits, and tended to develop the pecu- 
liar bent of his genius. In an age when discovery had become the 
ruling passion of men’s minds, nothing of minor importance appeared 
worthy of exciting Yesale’s energies; and in the aim and attainment 
of his noble ambition, difficulties, dangers and obstacles, that would 
have daunted and discouraged one less determined, served only to lend 
new strength to his efforts to advance himself in the career he had 
chosen. 
“ His parents had educated him for the medical profession ; his own 
peculiar genius directed him to the study of anatomy, which he pur- 
sued with an ardor that led to the most successful results. Up to the 
period when Vesale first rendered himself conspicuous, the anatomy of 
the human body was so imperfectly understood as scarcely to merit 
that the term of science should be applied to the dim and confused 
ideas entertained of it. Vesale was the first to break through the tram- 
mels with which ignorance and bigotry had crippled the march of sci- 
ence; surmounting, with admirable courage and constancy, the disgust, 
the terror, and even the peril, inseparable from the description of labor 
to which he had devoted himself, he was to be seen whole days and 
nights in the cemeteries, surrounded by the festering remnants of mor- 
tality, or hovering about the gibbets, and disputing with the vulture for 
its prey, in order to compose a perfect skeleton from the remains of exe- 
cuted criminals left there to be devoured by the carrion bird. 
“It was during a sojourn at Basle, after his return from Italy, that 
Vesale first beheld, at the house of Hans Holbein, the painter, Isabella 
Van Steenwiyk, the daughter of a merchant at Haerlem, who was des- 
tined to exercise some influence over his future life. Vesale was then 
scarcely twenty-eight years of age, and already he had attained the 
summit of his well-directed ambition. He enjoyed the countenance 
and friendship of the celebrated men of the day. Erasmus, Melanc- 
thon, Veltwyck, Verazio, Holbein, and Titian, were proud to be num- 
bered among his friends. The Emperor Charles the Fifth, informed 
by public rumor of the extraordinary talents of the young professor, 26 
bestowed upon Vesale, without solicitation, the important charge of his 
first physician. At the very moment when these honors were so fast 
accumulating, Vesale first saw Isabella Van Steenwiyk, and a vision of 
happiness dawned upon him from her calm blue eyes. The family of 
Van Steenwiyk was a wealthy and honorable one, far superior to that 
of Vesale in birth and fortune ; but the distinguished position the latter 
had acquired for himself, entitled him to aspire to an alliance even 
more exalted. The son of the Princess Margaret’s apothecary would 
have been rejected by the rich Haerlem burgher; the emperor’s first 
physician was accepted by him as the most eligible of sons-in-law. The 
marriage was solemnized, and Vesale, accompanied by his young bride, 
set off for Seville, where Charles then held his court. Vesale was a 
man of great determination, of strong feelings and violent passions, capa- 
ble of the extremes of love and hatred, of the most unlimited devotion 
and the most relentless rancor. But he was ignorant of all those nicer 
intermediate shades of sentiment which soften and harmonize the cha- 
racter, and he scorned as effeminate the gallantries and graceful atten- 
tions which youthful wives look upon as their prerogative, and which, 
although but too often merely the semblance of love, are often, too, more 
effective in winning woman’s confidence and tenderness than love itself. 
No two natures could be more dissimilar than those of Vesale and his 
wife. She was gentle, calm, undemonstrative, not to be roused into any 
violent evidence of love or anger, and so even-tempered as to be pro- 
nounced by many apathetic. Her fair and serene countenance was the 
mirror of a soul as serene, yet she was capable of great depth of feeling, 
although her natural timidity prevented the silent workings of her 
heart from appearing on the surface. She loved her husband truly; 
but there was so much of awe mingled with her affection, as to throw 
an appearance of restraint over her demeanor towards him, even in the 
privacy of domestic life. The very nature of his profession and occu- 
pations was calculated to increase that awe, and even to create some 
degree of repugnance, in a shrinking mind, which nothing but strong 
affection could overcome. Isabella’s nature required skillful drawing 
out and tender fostering. Vesale, unfortunately, understood nothing of 
the sort; he mistook her timidity for coldness, and resented it accord- 
ingly ; this led to estrangement on her part, which he attributed to dis- 
like, and jealous distrust at last took possession of his soul. 
“ Amidst the gallantries of Seville—where for a woman to be young 
and attractive, was to command the attentions, and authorize the devo- 
tion of the other sex—it was no difficult task to arouse the suscepti- 
bilities of a suspicious husband. Vesale’s talents and position, in the 
emperor’s household, had brought him into contact with all the men 27 
of learning and science about the court; the fame of his wife’s beauty- 
soon conferred upon him another sort of distinction ; and although, at 
first, in accordance with the housewifery habits of her country, she 
rarely showed herself in public, except to go to mass, enough was 
seen of her on those occasions, to render an acquaintance with the 
husband of one so fair, the object of many a gay courtier’s ambition. 
Yesale’s house became the resort of all that was noble and gallant in 
Seville, and he, for a time, believed his own scientific conversation to 
be the attraction. At first, the young wife showed her usual calm 
indifference to the admiration that followed her, wherever she was 
seen ; but, at last, something in her manner and countenance, whenever 
one particular person appeared, or his name was mentioned, betrayed 
that there did exist a being- who had discovered the secret of causing the 
blood to flow more tumultuously through her veins. That person was 
Don Alvar de Solis ; and, as he was young, handsome, gay, and the 
most inconstant gallant in Seville, the suspicions of Vesale were pain- 
fully aroused. He took silent note of the unusual emotions that agi- 
tated Isabella, whenever that nobleman was in her presence. The 
general conduct of Don Alvar was calculated to baffle suspicion, being 
marked by indifference. This would have misled the vigilant husband, 
had 4he not, on one occasion, when his back was turned towards Don 
Alvar, perceived him, in an opposite mirror, fix his kindling eyes upon 
Isabella, with an expression not to be mistaken; while she grew red and 
pale by turns, and then, as though unable to surmount her agitation, rose 
and left the room. Shortly after, Vesale received an anonymous note, 
saying, ‘Look to your wife and Don Alvar de Solis, and be not deceived 
by appearances. They only wait a fitting opportunity to dishonor you. 
Even now he carries about the glove she dropped for him at mass.’ 
Vesale shut himself up to ponder over the most effectual mode of aveng- 
ing himself. His resolution was promptly taken. He had established 
schools of anatomy at San Lucar and Cordova, obtained the emperor’s 
permission to visit them, quitted Seville ostensibly for that purpose, but 
returned the same night, concealed himself in a tenement belonging to 
him, at some distance from his abode in the Alcazar, which was de- 
voted to the double purpose of a laboratory and dissecting room. He 
had taken no person into his confidence; he was alone with his 
vengeance, and he listened only to its counsels. At dusk, on the follow- 
ing evening, he issued forth, muffled to the eyes in a woman’s mantle 
and hood, and left a letter at Don Alvar’s habitation, containing an 
embroidered glove of Isabella, and these words: “I have obtained the 
key of Vesale’s laboratory during his absence; be at the gate an hour 
after midnight, and you will be admitted on pronouncing the name of 28 
Isabella.” The assignation was punctually kept by Don Alvar. At 
half an hour past midnight, he left his house alone, but he never re- 
turned to it. Whither he had gone none could say, nor could any 
trace of him ever be discovered. It was supposed he must have 
missed his footing, and fallen into the Guadalquiver, near which his 
abode was situated, and that his body had been swept away by its 
waves into the ocean. Such an occurrence was calculated to produce 
a great sensation in the place where it happened ; and Vesale, recalled, 
three weeks after, by the illness of his wife, found the disappearance 
of Don Alvar the theme of every tongue. The altered appearance of 
Isabella was attributed by Vesale to grief for the mysterious absence 
of Don Alvar, and that conviction took from him all pity for her suffer- 
ings. It chanced to be the festival of Santa Isabella, and, to do honor 
to her patron saint, as well as to celebrate the return of her husband, 
Isabella put on her wedding-dress, and seating herself by an open 
casement that overlooked the Alcazar gardens, she watched for his 
coming. But whilst her eyes were vainly fixed upon the path by 
which she expected him to appear, a hand was laid upon her shoulder, 
and turning round, she beheld Vesale standing by her side. “I have 
ordered the supper to be laid in my study,” said he, and, taking her 
hand, he led her away to the room in question, dismissed the attend- 
ant, and closed the door. Everything wore a festive air, yet the 
repast was cheerless. Perceiving that she tasted nothing, Vesale 
poured a few drops from a vial of elixir into a cup of Malaga wine, 
and presenting it to her, “Drink this,” he said ; “it is a sovereign cure 
for the complaint you are suffering from.” “ Pledge me in the 
draught,” she replied, filling up a goblet from the same flask, and 
handing it to him, “and it will bring quicker healing to me. Let us 
drink to our absent friends, Andrea.” Vesale accepted the offering, and 
they emptied their goblets together. “Talking of absent friends,” said 
he, suddenly fixing his eyes upon her, “ you have not yet spoken to 
me of Don Alvar de Solis. Are all hopes of hearing of him relin- 
quished?” Isabella started, and blushed. “Nothing is known of him,” 
she stammered; “a strange mystery envelops his disappearance.” 
“ What if I should be able to clear it up,” returned her husband, “and 
tell you wherefore he has disappeared, and whither he has gone? 
Don Alvar de Solis,” he continued, “was a braggart and a libertine, 
and boasted that no woman ever resisted his seductions, that no hus- 
band ever suspected the injury he was preparing for him.” Then 
grasping his wife by the hand, he led her up to a door at the further 
end of the room, and throwing it wide open, revealed to her view a 
human skeleton, suspended within, holding, in one of its bony hands, 29 
one of her own embroidered gloves. “ Behold,” he said, pointing at 
the ghastly spectacle, “the gallant and beautiful Don Alvar de Solis— 
the object of your guilty love. Contemplate him well, if the sight can 
render your last moments happier, for you are about to die too: the 
wine I have just given you was poisoned!” When the last dreadful 
sentence, and its still more dreadful illustration, burst upon her affrighted 
senses, she became paralyzed with excess of emotion ; the scream, which 
had risen to her throat, died there in strangled murmurs, and, sinking 
back, she fell as one dead upon the arm of Vesale. She was not dead, 
however; he had not poisoned her; that crime he had hesitated to 
commit, yet he was not the less her murderer. Convulsion followed 
convulsion, and, at last, she died; and, in that supreme moment, the 
hour that preceded death, Yesale, who had never quitted her, beheld 
one of those phenomena which sometimes attend the dying. Awaking 
from a torpid slumber, consciousness and memory returned at once, 
and with them a calm and a courage she had never possessed in the 
flush of life. “Andrea,” said she, fixing her dim eye upon her hus- 
band, “I am dying by your hand, yet I am innocent; I never wronged 
you in thought or deed. Don Alvar pursued me with his love and 
his threats, but I repulsed him. I never loved but you ! I feared 
and honored you as much as I loved—but I dared not tell you of his 
pursuit! Oh, Andrea, believe my words; the dying deal not in false- 
hood! Should I be thus calm, were I guilty?” Vesale, sinking upon 
his knees, solemnly protested his faith in the innocence of his wife, 
and, with choking sobs, adjured her to believe that he had only feigned 
to give her poison; that he could not nerve his hand to take away her 
life ; that the terror of death, and not death itself, was upon her! And, 
while he yet spoke, Isabella murmured, “Thanks be to Heaven for 
this!” and drawing his hand towards her, laid it upon her heart, and, 
as she did so, it ceased to beat. 
“ Long years passed away; Charles the Fifth had abdicated,and Philip 
the Second had succeeded to the throne of Spain, and removed his court 
from Seville to Madrid. Vesale had become to the son what he had been 
to the father, and his worldly honors and credit continued in the ascend- 
ant, and in the midst of his prosperity, the dark secret of his heart had 
ceased to torment him. But, at the end of nearly twenty years of un- 
paralleled favor, a strange and unmerited accusation suddenly precipi- 
tated him to the lowest abyss of misfortune—the charge of having 
opened the body of a Spanish gentleman, as before stated, and caused 
his death. The accusation was wholly false; Vesale was too skillful to 
have committed so deplorable an error; yet it obtained credence, and he 
was condemned by the Inquisition to death; but the sentence was com- 30 
muted, by the supplication of the king, to a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. 
Various and painful were his adventures in the land of exile ; but at last, 
his penance being over, he embarked at Jaffa to return to Europe. A 
violent storm soon arose, and it being evident there was no possibility 
of saving the ship, Vesale lashed himself to a spar, and committing him- 
self to the waves, was picked up, several hours afterwards, by a Cyprus 
galley, and landed in Venice, without a single earthly possession, save 
the clothes upon him, and an enameled likeness of his wife, which he 
had worn ever since her death. The man who had once been the 
friend and companion of kings, honored, wealthy and renowned, was 
now an outcast and a beggar, and had not where to lay his head. But 
a change had now come over his mind, more remarkable even than 
that which had befallen his fortunes. Filled with late remorse for the 
crime he had committed so many years before, and recognizing the 
justice of the chastisement which had at last overtaken him, the idea of 
returning to the world had become intolerable, and he sighed only for 
a retreat in some religious community, where he might pass the re- 
mainder of his days in making his peace with God. He possessed one 
friend in Venice, and to him he had recourse in his destitution, and, 
under the seal of secrecy, confided to him the dark passages of his life. 
The illustrious Titian shrank not from the misery of his early friend. 
He received Vesale as a brother, combated his desire for retirement 
with all the powers of his mind, and when he found his arguments un- 
availing, he obtained for the destitute stranger admission into a convent 
of Dominican friars. But before Vesale entered that holy asylum, the 
news of the loss of the ship in which he had sailed from Jaffa, reached 
Venice, and his own name was specified among the remnants of the 
crew and passengers, who had been cast ashore on the island of Zante, 
on the 15th of October, 1664, and had there died of starvation. 
“Thus was Vesale’s death announced to the world, while he yet lived ; 
and thus in after ages will it be believed that he actually did perish. On 
the day of his taking the cowl, he bade an eternal adieu to Titian, and 
received from his hand a double picture, painted by him at the request of 
Vesale, in order that not only the memory, but the image of his crime 
might be ever before him. One side represented the beautiful counte- 
nance of his wife,copied from the enameled likeness, which was all he 
had saved from the wreck of his fortunes; the other that dreadful scene 
that made him doubly a murderer. These pictures were his sole com- 
panions in his cell; the sole witnesses of the fasts and macerations and 
anguish of soul which have been his preparation for eternity; perhaps 
they may become the witnesses that shall divulge to future ages the 
history of a crime and an expiation, which had alike remained a secret 31 
for the generation among which they passed. That the subject of them 
may not remain a mystery to their future possessors, Andrea Vesale has 
himself traced this transcript of his glory, his guilt and his misery. 
Already dead to the world, he has learned to think of himself as one 
long since in the grave. One wish alone connected with earth had still 
power to move him—he would fain lay his bones in the far land of his 
birth. Ye into whose hands this writing may fall, pray that his last de- 
sire may have been gratified; pray, above all, that his penitence may 
not have been unavailing. 
“ Signed, Andrea Yesale, 1567.” 
Thus ended the strange manuscript; and it would appear from the 
fact of the picture in which it was enclosed, having been traced to a 
Dominican convent in Brussels, that the last earthly wish of Andrea 
Vesale had, indeed, been fulfilled, and that he had closed his earthly 
pilgrimage in the land of his fathers. 
This story, which I have thus introduced to your notice in the small- 
est possible space abbreviation would allow to make it intelligible, is 
certainly a very interesting and romantic one. Whether it be true, 
however, or altogether fabulous, is another affair. That there appears 
to be some foundation for the incidents embodied and set forth, I may 
remark,that upon inquiring at Brussels, among medical friends, respect- 
ing Vesalius, and his tragical end, some observed that it was far from 
certain that he had been lost upon the island of Zante, whilst others 
hinted at old manuscripts which were said to contain statements and ru- 
mors of an extraordinary kind. These views, I understand, are also 
entertained by a very learned medical antiquary of this country, who re- 
members, in the course of his reading, to have met with details bearing 
a striking resemblance to the foregoing. One thing is certain—that the 
writer of the “ story”—an English lady, I believe—must have possessed 
very minute and circumstantial knowledge of the times in which Ve- 
salius lived, and of the history of his works. Having myself long taken 
a deep interest in the character and history of Vesalius, from having pos- 
sessed a very splendid copy of his works, illustrated by the drawings of 
Titian, which I presented, some years back, to an anatomist in every way 
worthy of them—the late Dr. Godman—I confess I was unusually 
struck with the narrative I have embodied in this lecture, and have been 
induced to give it a place from the hope that some one, either in this 
country, or abroad, may think it worth while to investigate the matter, 
for the sake of truth, and to rescue the memory of one of the greatest 
men that ever adorned any profession, from obloquy and disgrace, if 
there should be no foundation whatever for the allegations. Story- 
tellers and tale-mongers have, undoubtedly, to a certain extent, poetical 32 
license, yet seldom go so far as to introduce real names into romance, 
and charge with high crimes and misdemeanors,distinguished characters 
who never perpetrated them. To allow this, would be to endanger the 
reputation of some of the purest men that ever lived, from Harvey, and 
Sydenham, and Hunter, down to Rush, and Wistar, and Physick. 
With these comments, I terminate my account of Belgium, and propose, 
in the next lecture, to speak of Germany, and of Holland, their great 
medical men and interesting institutions. 
THE END.