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MEDICAL  PROFESSION,
AS A MEANS OF DEVELOPING
THE WHOLE NATURE OF MAN.
A VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE GRADUATING MEDICAL CLASS OF
        HARVARD UNIVERSITY, MARCH 11, 1863.
WITH ADDITIONAL REMARKS ON A
TOPIC OF IMPOETANCE AT THE PEESENT HOUE,
  HENRY I. BOWDITCH, M. D.,
PROFESSOR OF CLINICAL MEDICINE IN HARVARD COLLEGE.
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          BOSTON:
T1CKNOR  AND  FIELDS
             1863. 
 
AN  APOLOGY
MEDICAL  PROFESSION,
AS A MEANS OF DEVELOPING
THE WHOLE  NATURE  OF MAN.
A VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE GRADUATING MEDICAL CLASS OF
         HARVARD UNIVERSITY, MARCH 11, 1863.
WITH ADDITIONAL REMARKS ON A
TOPIC OF IMPOETANCE AT THE PEESENT HOUE.
   HENRY I. BOWDITCH, M. D.,
PROFESSOR OF CLINICAL MEDICINE IN HARVARD COLLEGE.
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            BOSTON:
TICKNOE  AND  FIELDS.
               1 863. 
  " The value and rank of every art is in proportion to the mental labor or the mental
pleasure produced by it.
  " As this principle is observed or neglected, our profession becomes either a liberal
art or a mechanical trade." —Sir Joshua  Reynolds's Lectures.
t 
Prof. Henry I. Bowditch,—
  Dear Sir: — The gentlemen of the Graduating Class of 1863 respectfully
solicit a copy of your Valedictory Address for publication.
                        Sincerely your friends,
                                  William J. Radford,
                                  John Brown Garvie,
                                  D. Hyslop Hayden,   r Committee.
                                  Daniel McPhee,
                                  J. G. Perry,
  College Library, March 11,1863.
                                                     March 13, 1863.
Drs.  Wm. J. Radford,  J.  B. Garvie,  D.  H. Hayden.  D. McPhee,
  J.  G. Perry,—
  Gentlemen:—It  has seemed  to me  a matter of doubt whether it would
be proper  to  publish  an address, which was  written and spoken to  you,
much as I should have talked  with you, at my own office, upon the expe-
riences of my life.   Such a communication seems rather like a confession,
and is scarcely fit  for the public eye.   Nevertheless,  as  you ask for  it,  I
give  it into your control exactly as written.
                         I remain, very sincerely your friend,
                                               Henry I. Bowditch. 
w 
ADDRESS.
Gentlemen of the Graduating Class :
  By these ceremonies, you have been duly admitted
into our ancient and honorable profession of medicine.
In a few days, you  will part, perhaps forever, from us
and  from most of your associates  in these  pleasant
studies ;  and it devolves upon me, as the representative
of the Medical Faculty, to give you  a  cordial  God-
speed on your  future  careers of hoped-for usefulness
or fame.
  Were I to follow my own impulses, I would  adopt
the laconic  but  admirable speech,  once made  by a
learned Greek Professor of Harvard to a class of stu-
dents about to  leave Alma Mater, as  you are about to
leave us :  " You have done well; I wish you well."
But such brevity  is not allowed me.  In truth, it would
indeed  be strange, if we, who have  been so long inti-
mately connected in the study of our art, which,  in old
Greek phrase, is  "of  all arts the most  noble," could
not spend a few moments in pleasant converse together.
Nor does it seem inappropriate  that one who, by long
experience, knows the fate that betides most of the
periods of professional life, should, at a time like this,
utter some  words  of  cheery hope,  or  perchance  of 
G
 warning, to  his juniors, just starting on  their various
 pilgrimages.
   Allow me,  then,  to  present to  you one  or more
 faintly-traced pen-and-ink-sketches,  so  to  speak,  of a
 few of  the  more salient  points of  a  subject I deem
 most interesting in itself, and not  unsuitable to this
 occasion, when so many of you are about to make your
 first step forward  in the practice  of medicine, and
 when, if ever, it is most important  to  move  under
 the  guidance  of the  highest  principle.   I  propose,
 therefore — The  Medical  Profession ; its noblest aspi-
 rations ; the fair opportunities it offers for the devel-
 opment  of the  whole nature of man ;  its highest duties,
 as connected with such opportunities.

   What should each one of you hold up before himself
 as the Highest Ideal of Professional Life ?
   As I understand the riddle of existence, it is  not to
 gain Riches  merely, although, certainly, you may  ask,
 in the words of Agur's prayer, to have neither poverty
 nor riches, in the future of your profession.
   Is it, then, Honor that you  should seek after  as the
 acme of your  professional hope ?   What the  world
 calls  "honor," can  never be  gained by  physicians.
 Confidence, respect, esteem, perfect love, if you please,
 on  the  part of  grateful  patients;  but  that is  not
" honor," as  the world uses that term.
  Is it, then Power that you may hope to attain ?  You
will be too often powerless  before disease and death,
to allow  a fond love of power to seize upon you ; nor
could you gain  it, even if you wished it.
  Is  it,  finally, perfect  Professional Success?   Should 
7
you take this as your  highest choice, that you should
be beloved and respected in life, and mourned for by
thousands  at your death'?  Surely, you will  say  that
this is worthy of your  highest effort.   Ought you not,
therefore,  throw   your life into  this seemingly great
thought, so soothing to you while living, and promis-
ing to throw lustre on  your memories when dead \
   Each and all of these, and other similar objects  that
might be named,  though absolutely good, seem to me
to fall far short of the highest ideal of human life.   I
have seen  a physician  rich, full of credit with the  mul-
titude, great in his power of controlling human beings
committed  to  his charge, and surfeited with profes-
sional success,  and yet he was mean in his very nature,
a total failure, in fact, in the prime  object of exist-
ence.
   What, then, is  this  nobler aim, and for lack of
knowing and  striving after  which,  so many make
either partial or total failures  in life,  and become mere
breathing  machines — living,  but  soulless bodies 1
   Life is not given to us chiefly that we may become
wonder-working mechanics, keen  men of business, bril-
liant wits, deep scholars,  wise philosophers, orthodox
theologians, able  jurists, or even learned and  skilful
doctors.  The  gaining of these ends, are only means,
so to speak, of life — means,  forsooth, and only means
toward a far higher and far  holier end, viz: the har-
monious development of every manly  quality of  one's
nature — qualities  implanted   in  him  during  the
mysteries  of conception,  and receiving as  much the
impress of Almighty  Power  at  the  moment of birth,
 as when,  in  the  beginning  of  our  race,  the  same 
8
Supreme Being breathed into the first  man's nostrils
the breath  of life, and that imperfect creature became
a living soul.
  But where  shall we find  this ideal  manhood, this
type of all  the grand qualities of human nature ?   Can
any man find it within his own  grasp ?   Has any man
ever found it in another?   Imperfect as we all are, we
seek in vain.  Shall we, for that reason, cease to keep
that ideal in our view ?   I think not.  Better have an
aim too lofty ever  to be reached in this world, than to
drag on through life merely,  as it  were, sucking out a
miserable existence  from every  hour,  as  it  rapidly
passes by us.
  Every  profession and  trade tends,  if  we did but
know it, and shape our lives in that  belief, to bring
each one of us up toward this  standard ;  but I  love
and respect our beautiful  profession, because it tends,
I think, more than any other to  lead us, at least, to an
appreciation of it.
  Let me endeavor to illustrate this part of our  sub-
ject, and show  you, by a  few practical examples, the
grand opportunities offered by our  profession, in aid of
any  endeavors  we may feel disposed to  make toward
this standard.   If  to  some captious spirits  I seem to
pass too minutely into the facts of personal experience,
or to deviate from the strict path most appropriate for
an occasion like the present,  I am quite sure that you,
my friends, who have just received your diplomas, and
for whose benefit alone I speak, will pardon the impro-
prieties, for the sake of the intended good to you.
  If you question the  deepest recesses of man's nature,
you will find that every human being desires__ 
9
   First.   The  enjoyment of  the  outward world  of
experience, and a perfectly healthful physical  exist-
ence.
   Second.  He tends to friendship and love, and to the
exercise  of all those  kindly  emotions  that cluster
around the human heart.
   Third.   He longs for the culture, growth, and free
employment of his intellect.
   Fourth.  Man  tends, whether he  will  it or not,  as
truly as  the needle  to  the  magnetic pole, at some
period of his  earthly career — it may be only during
the last few moments of  it — toward  faith or  a  relig-
ious life.
   A few words on  each one of these divisions of the
subject.
   No man, however great a  scoffer  he may be against
the profession, in  reference to its influence on public
hygiene, can deny that the study and practice of our
art, by giving to physicians a knowledge of physiolog-
ical laws, and an insight  into  the first encroachments
of disease, tend  to  the preservation in robust  health
of physicians  themselves.   A  vast majority of bodily
ailments  are caused by sins against the simplest laws
of life and of  health.  These  sins, though ignorantly
committed by  the  laity, carry in their train  punish-
ments  both swift  and sure,  and oftentimes long and
distressing.  The physician may, if he choose,  avoid
almost all  of these.   I would, therefore, commend  to
you  our  art and its practice, in  that  it will influence
well your future bodily health, — the corpus sanum  of
the poet, upon  which so much of your future morality,
intellectual activity, and,  it  may be,  your  very  piety 
10
will depend.   Is there any other profession in life that
can justly claim as much \
  If we  now  turn  to  the  region  of the emotions,  in
their  widest  signification,  all-powerful as they are  in
their tendencies  to  improve, repress, or modify man's
development, we shall  find  that  the  practice of our
profession  acts  in  a manner  most  admirable  upon
those  engaged in it.   How can it be otherwise ?   If
the influence  of noble  example  be  of  any avail  in
this world; if the benign  presence of self-sacrificing
friendship ever touch the human soul; if the sight  of
a lofty philosophic  serenity or  childlike faith  at the
approach of death, ever  appeal to all  that is divine  in
man,  then enter with confidence the portals of our
profession, for you  will  thereby have the most golden
opportunities of  seeing, by  the bedside of the sick and
of the dying, all  the finest traits  of  human character,
illustrated  by the  purest  examples  the world  can
produce.
  I would that I could give you even the faintest idea
of what I feel that I have gained by my  profession,  in
that it has given me numerous opportunities of study-
ing closely the kindly influence of suffering and disease
upon the sick, and upon all who minister to them.
  In order to  illustrate my meaning, permit  me to try
to sketch one  or two scenes, that have recently occur-
red within my own experience.
  About five weeks after the hard-fought and °-l0rious
battle of Antietam, I  was called to visit the head-quar-
ters of the  Army  of the  Potomac, then  at Pleasant
Valley, only  a short  distance from  the battle-ground.
During my stay, I spent  nearly two days at a camp 
11
hospital, at  which were  collected about two hundred
of our  wounded.  While my companions,  who were
not of the profession, spent  their time in  roaming at
will over the ten miles' circuit of that sanguinary field,
I remained at the hospital,  helping, as any physician
would have done, the surgeons in charge in their care
of the wounded.   I was  amazed at the quiet, uncom-
plaining fortitude  displayed by our suffering soldiers.
It was  a  most interesting psychological phenomenon,
and it was all but  universal.   It raised  my estimate of
human  nature, and  thereby  raised me, my own  indi-
vidual  nature, to  a  higher grade of existence.  The
memory of  those  sufferings,  so  nobly borne, will ever
be  a stimulus to me to bear serenely the greatest ills of
civil life.
   But there were two comrades that especially charmed
me, and I would that  I could, in fitting language, so tell
their touching story that the memory  of its  beauty
might forever remain upon your hearts, and often, in
future,  rise up before you, as  it now comes up before
me, arousing  within  me the tenderest and most lofty
emotion.   Listen  to  the  tale of the young Zouaves.
They were members of Burnside's corps, and belonged
to that  noble and fearless band, which made the famous
charges over the  narrow bridge, thence  up over an
open hill, in face  of  an intrenched foe, finally gaining
the height, but with a fearful loss of life.   Among the
bravest of the brave, on that bloody day, were these two.
One was slowly but surely dying of a ghastly wound in
the thigh.  He had  been lying nearly motionless for
about five weeks.  He was  the  elder of the two, and
had a  peculiarly  fine, intellectual countenance, pallid 
12
with the approach of death.  His  tall, well-knit form
had  the rounded  muscular development of  a  right
manly youth.  His skin was of the purest white and
finest texture, and of almost girlish softness; his de-
portment eminently quiet and dignified.   I never saw
him  smile  but once, and that when the surgeon  in
charge remarked that the " Zouaves are always brave."
He looked, in fact, like a young Christian warrior who
felt that he had fought bravely his last fight in a noble
cause, and now was quietly preparing for the coming
doom, serenely waiting for death as the greatest boon,
that could be vouchsafed to him in  the intensity of  his
suffering.   From the frightful  nature  of his wound
those sufferings must have been torture, but he made
no complaint.  Nay, he rather blamed his own want of
fortitude, for allowing even a few low moans to escape
his lips.  "Do we cause you too much suffering ?" I
enquired of  him, on one occasion, when we were mov-
ing him, and he uttered  a word indicating  great an-
guish.   " Oh, no," he replied, " I  am only regretting
that I cannot restrain these  moans."   In his presence
I seemed before one of a superior nature, physically,
intellectually, and morally.  There was a silent natural
language about him that  spoke thus much to every
understanding heart.  A certain nameless, almost  di-
vine  influence appeared to emanate from the simple
pallet of straw, and  the dying young patriot  silently
poured  into the hearts of all around him a portion, at
least, of his own serene and holy thought.  I saw him
often, and he had always that same noble deportment.
I could not forbear entering his tent whenever I passed
by.  Every moment spent  in ministering to him even 
13
by a word, was a blessing vastly greater to myself than
it could be to the sufferer.   On my departure, I offered
to visit his family, which  he quietly declined, on the
ground that it would take me far from my route home.
He was however glad to have me write to his  parents,
which I subsequently did.   I told them of  his  totally
hopeless situation.  I spoke of my admiration for  his
gallantry  in the fight, and  his serenity at the prospects
of death,  &c.
   Permit me to give you one or two brief extracts from
a  letter  received  a short time  afterwards  from  his
broken-hearted mother.   It seems to  me  merely the
complement of the story I have  related of  the youth,
and illustrates and explains what I myself saw.  It is
couched in simple language, and shows little of literary
culture, but the richest  spiritual experiences of life.   I
give the words exactly  as written: —

   " Dear Sir :  .   .  It  is a comfort to a bereaved mother to
think that a young soldier in camp can live prepared to die.  He
have suffered much ; was wounded before at Camden, though not
yet twenty years of age.   I thank God that he was a soldier of
Christ, as well as soldier of his country.  He was one of the first
to stand in defence  of his country.   He is a year  and seven
months in the army.  But his last battle  is fought;  he have
gained the prize ; his trials and sufferings are over.  I must
content myself with the hope that I shall go to him.   He can-
not return to me."    ......

   Now what was  it, my friends, that  brought me thus
intimately within  the  sacred precincts of  the death-
scene of  a stranger, or still more  into that holiest of 
14
 holies, a bereaved mother's  heart?   It was  solely be-
 cause I was a member of our noble profession.
   But I have not told you all that I saw and gained at
 the death-bed of the young Zouave.  Whenever I visited
 him  I saw by his  side, and  tenderly watching him, a
 youth dressed in the jaunty costume  of the corps, with
 his long  silk tassel dropping gracefully from his cap,
 over  a brow of a more youthful aspect than that of the
 wounded sufferer.   He was acting as nurse to his com-
 rade, and having escaped unharmed from the terrible
 charge upon the enemy, was full of ruddy life and buoy-
 ant hope.  He was evidently a year or two younger, but
 their bearing towards one another was  more like that
 of two lovers, than that usually noticed between  man
 and man.   A  sort of Nysus and Euryalus friendship it
 really was, and as richly worthy of immortality from
 poet's heart  and  pen as that which the Mantuan bard
 has so sweetly sung.  The contrast between the death-
 like aspect of the sufferer and the robust health of the
 other, was most striking and beautiful.  The youn°-
 nurse was forever near the bed of his  dying companion,
 and  springing to his aid at  the  slightest intimation.
 On one occasion, in an especial manner, did this devo-
 tion show itself.  I certainly shall never forget it.  We
 were  dressing the wound, and necessarily caused much
 pain,  so that groans were wrung from the patient.  His
comrade seemed almost  frantic with  his eager sympa-
thy.   He  flitted constantly around in aid of  the  sur-
geon, ever and anon leaning over and murmuring into
the ear of the sufferer soft words of consolation and of
hope, until finally,  just at the moment of extremest 
15
suffering, a sudden, stolen kiss was pressed  upon the
pale forehead of his dying comrade !
  Why do I detail to  you these things?  Some, I fear,
may deem them all ill-timed.  What  have they to do
with a valedictory address to a graduating class of med-
ical students ?  Two reasons  I have for bringing them
before you.   Similar  events, modified of course by cir-
cumstances of time and place, you will constantly meet
with in your future professional career, and by relating,
even imperfectly, these two beautiful and unique scenes,
I would lead you to open not only your eyes but your
whole natures to all similar purifying  influences.  We
are made better men  by being allowed to see them.
   My second object is less germane to this day's object.
But for this very reason, if I had no other, I would re-
late this story at the present hour.   As Anacreon claims
that, while wishing to sing of heroes, his harp responds
only with notes of  love, so I find, in these earnest
days, that this  sacred war in which the  nation is  en-
gaged, always comes up before me, when I would speak
even of the  gentlest and most peaceful influences of
our profession.  I confess therefore  that  my second
reason is that I may thus, somewhat publicly, bear testi-
mony to the grand Christian fortitude evinced by almost
all of our soldiers on this and similar  occasions.   I
have likewise wished to  describe, even in the faintest
language, the superb serenity of soul evinced by that
dying warrior, and the  warm, self-sacrificing friendship
of the other of these two most youthful soldiers. Would
to God  that any words of mine could make immortal
in  man's memory these high traits of the  two patriot 
16
youths, noble fighters in this good fight for human lib-
erty and national life.
  But you will not need the sorrows of the battle-field,
for  many such opportunities. Wherever the medical art
exists  as  an  honorable profession  and not as a mere
trade, there will similar, though perhaps not such strik-
ing scenes be exhibited, at every quiet fireside of civil
life.
  I turn now to the influence of our profession upon
the intellect of man.   I can of course do no more than
simply touch upon this great subject.
  I have always thought that the fact that the profes-
sion has had amongst its noted men some of the finest
intellects  the world has ever seen, and acknowledged
as  such not  only  by the  communities  in which  they
lived, but  also by  posterity, is  a strong proof  of the
capability of our profession to  satisfy the intellectual
cravings of the highest class of minds.  A profession
that ranks among its votaries  a Morgagni or a John
Hunter, surely should not suffer, when compared with
any other, as a means of intellectual advancement.
  Again:   Look around you  in the various communi-
ties in which you live, and observe  the relative rank
of the physician, as a man of intellectual power, in all
the every-day doings  of the circle in which he moves.
Generally, you will find that he holds either the very
first, or nearly the first rank ; and  he holds this posi-
tion, usually, by the  divine  right of  a higher mental
culture than his neighbors generally possess.
  Yet, further, let me appeal  to the individual con-
sciousness of each one of  you.   Young as you are in 
n
medical study, and all  unused as you are to  medical
practice, I nevertheless feel certain  that  there is not
one among you, who will not bear witness to the sharp-
ening of the wits, to the increased clearness of thought,
and the really hard intellectual work you have had, —
while  endeavoring  to  thoroughly  grapple with  any
obscure case of disease, placed before you, even during
this brief curriculum, that has just elapsed.
   Indeed, there is nothing that  requires  greater care
in observation, more acuteness  of  perception of the
intimate relations of things and events, or clearer, more
judicial  powers  of weighing evidence than the  thor-
ough, comprehensive elucidation  of many of the  cases
constantly  occurring to physicians.   " Who  is  more
profound, more judicious, more penetrating than  Lina-
cre ? " writes Erasmus, about three and a half centuries
ago,  when  alluding to the learned  physician to  the
King, and family doctor to the aristocracy of London.*
Indeed, Gentlemen, neither a  fool nor a lazy  man  can
ever be a great and good physician.   May I not, there-
fore, say, in one word,  our profession, pursued with
 manly aims,  while it  more than satisfies the human
 heart, affords,  too, everything necessary  to satisfy the
 cravings of intellect for a stalwart growth.
   Let me, in connection with this topic of your proper
 intellectual culture, make a few  hints  on  reading.
 You will all  agree, that, at the  present day, it will not
 do for any  man to  consider his  student life as  ended
 with  the reception  of his diploma.  It has  but  just
 commenced.   It ends  only with his life.  Hitherto,
* Butler's Life's of Erasmus.  London, 1848.
      3 
18
 you have read to learn your profession ; hereafter you
 must read for the practice of it, unless you intend to
 settle down as the meanest and most pitiful of routinists.
 Of course, every man, if he  read at all, will endeavor
 to  keep up with the current medical science of the
 day.   I would  earnestly  advise  you, however, not to
 limit yourselves to this phase of literature.   A  wise
 and liberal culture  enjoins upon you a wider circle.
 Shakspeare will  teach you human nature in a  manner
 that no other  writer can.   Dickens, and others  of simi-
 lar stamp,  will warm your  hearts toward the miserable
 and poor, with whom  you will  be thrown in contact,
 especially  during your earlier years of practice.  Let
 broad  farce, too, and keen humor have their  places.
 I think a fine comedy helps  digestion, and it will  ena-
 ble you to  laugh off some of the whims of nervous
 patients.  What grander  appeals to independence and
 manliness  of  character, — what more  touching warn-
 ings than  can be found  in  Burns !   Who does  not
 walk more erect  after  reading Tennyson's grand dirge
 of the nation at  the death  of Wellington, the warrior,
 the statesman, the man of  power ?   The  mild  and
 genial philosophy of the Excursion, showing, as  it does,
 how much there  is of real beauty in some of the com-
 monest acts of daily life,  has been of infinite  service
 to me ;  and it is my firm belief that I am now a better
 practising physician, because  Wordsworth has lived,
 and has sung out his rich  human notes from his poet's
 nook in Cumberland.
  Read, then,  not only medical, but, as far as possible,
good works in all departments  of literature and  sci-
ence ; and permit me to add, that now is the appointed 
19
hour, the golden season of your lives,  Accept, then,
with joy this God-given  privilege  of leisure, and sow
broadly the  seeds of your future growth.  Ere  many
years, you will find cases accumulating, and the much-
coveted business  encroaching upon time.  Then the
scanty moment  for  reading  will have to be  snatched
from  toiling, almost drudging life, or in the midst,
perhaps, of the whirl  of professional  success, only at
the dead  of night.   Lose not, I beg  you, these few
precious years, now opening before you, during which,
perhaps, you will have few patients, and many weary
hours, unless, with  strength of will, and intelligently,
you wring from them the means for your own nobler
development for all  future time.
  I pass now to  the last and most difficult, but the
most important part of our subject.
  What influence  ought the  profession, you  have
chosen, to have  upon  your religious character, and
what are your most important  duties connected there-
with?   Of course, I can merely glance at a few of the
considerations, naturally  connected with these topics.
As  I have  already  hinted,  when  commencing this
address. I believe as firmly as  I believe anything, that
every human being, whether  wise or simple,  good,
bad, or indifferent,  tends as certainly toward faith,  or
some  religious  belief, as he  does  toward death.  No
man, unless  he  be demented, can  approach that final
point of mortal life, without being  compelled to  think
of that Divine and Supreme Ruler, under whose laws
he first drew the breath of life, and in submission,  or
opposition, to whose laws he has, like a wise man or a
fool, lived.  At that hour, if at no other, all the shams 
20
  of his  previous career show their  utter nothingness,
  and he  bows in religious  faith or fear to meet the
  impending fate.   But thrice blessed is our profession,
  because the practice of it, if pursued  in a truly loyal
  manner, tends to  raise  the physician, early in his
  career,  to the  broad, really catholic, belief that there is
  a  wise  and humane  Father, who  governs all things
  rightly, though often darkly to  our most limited pow-
  ers of perception.
    This  view, I know, is very different from that oft-
  repeated libel, made usually by bigots, that medicine
  tends to Materialism, Infidelity, and Atheism.   What
  monstrous absurdity !  Can any man dissect the human
 neck, or examine minutely the marvellous workings of
 the human hand ; can he watch  the mysterious wan-
 dering of the microscopic germs, seeing, and yet really
 not seeing, their  real processes of  growth ;   can he
 watch,  hour after hour, the  wonderful revolutions of
 those apparently mere masses of granules, and observe
 how life and muscular  action  are  mysteriously and
 inexplicably evolved during this simple  motion ; can
 he do and  see all these  things, and be, at the same
 time, an Atheist ?  Out upon such arrant nonsense !
   How marvellous and full  of  spiritual  meaning  are
 these realms of human  physiology !   Study man as
 deeply as you  may,  yet  who ever has unravelled, or
 ever will be able  to  unravel, the  real  seminal  princi-
ples that have lain for centuries, and I doubt not will
forever lie hidden, in that threefold mystery of man's
nature, conception and birth, life and  growth, decay
and  death.   «  Gentlemen,"  often  exclaimed  to his
class one of the greatest  clinical  teachers  the  world 
21
has ever seen,  " gentlemen, there is always something
in man and his diseases that escapes our  senses."  In
each one  of these  three mysterious phases of human
life, appears, forever mocking our weak understanding,
— that same great, mysterious, wonder-working power.
Hence, I  contend that our profession tends strongly to
raise  any  reflecting mind to God, as  ever present in
His  mighty and inexplicable laws.  Impressed  by a
sense of  awe before  these grand energies, the  mind
tends  easily and naturally toward  reverence, and, at
times, most naturally toward prayer, which, in  its
essence, is only an  expression, silent it may be, of that
reverential  awe.   Hence, I  can  readily believe to  be
true the story, that is told  of one of the greatest Eng-
lish surgeons of the last century, and which runs some-
what in this wise :  It was noticed that, previously to
any important operation, he  always retired to  a  room
adjacent to  the amphitheatre, and remained  there for
a  short time in total silence.  Innumerable were the
quiet  jokes passed around among  those  professional
jokers, the medical students, as to the reasons for this
withdrawal of  their great leader.  On one  occasion,
the door of the mysterious apartment was accidentally
left ajar, and one more roguish  and of a bolder type
than his comrades, crept,  amid  much merriment  on
the part of the others,  to the  open  door-way ; and
there  he  espied the  great surgeon, whom they had
looked upon as  capable  of coping  with any case, and
apparently needing nothing  but his own bold heart
and steady hand to carry him through any operation,
however fearful; this man of intellect and power — on
his knees  at prayer, — prayer for that help  which, 
22
 doubtless, had never failed  him in the hour  of trial,
 and which he was sure then of obtaining !
   It is  now many years  since, while  engaged in mid-
 wifery,  and when I felt that the lives of two beings
 seemed  to rest in my hands, that I experienced, for the
 first time in my life, the Divine inspiration that flows
 from  above into any human heart, that humbly asks
 for aid.   In a moment, in  the twinkling of an  eye, I
 passed from the  agony of extreme mental uncertainty,
 — nay,  actual physical tremor, — to a perfectly  clear,
 unclouded intellect, a reasonable judgment of the case,
 a fixed  purpose, and gained  a hand  as firm as  steel.
 For that inestimable boon, the richest and most won-
 derful experience of my whole life, let me ever give
 thanks to the medical profession and to God !
   In connection  with this branch  of  my subject, per-
 mit me   to allude briefly and  cautiously to  a  topic
 which trenches,  some may think, too  much upon the
 domains of the  sister profession  of theology,   "Oh,
 for a great, new thought,"   cries the great German
 scholar, during his last illness, " to penetrate my soul,
 and I shall be  well again!"   If at any time in  a  man's
 life he  needs firmest support, and warmest sympathy,
 it  is at  that hour,  when death is near  at  hand.   A
 kindly  word  of  good  cheer, of bright hope,  or  of
 high-toned  thought, will  meet with a  warm response,
 or, at least, with eager  gratitude.  Each one of you
may be  occasionally placed in a position in which you
will have to  say that word,  or  it will  not be  said.
 Once in my life I have been  so  situated, and  I  dared
not fail to meet  the requisitions of the moment.   Be-
ware of  suggesting at that solemn moment anything of 
23
mere dogma, that can tend  to increase  the  mental
anguish  of the sufferer.   But let all your  words be
those of loftiest cheer, or  of  quiet resignation.  Sug-
gest, if need  be,  the  mercies,  rather than  the judg-
ments of Jehovah.  Some of you think it impossible
you  should ever be called  upon to say a word at such
a time.   Be it so.  Wait and see what the  hour may
bring forth.    Meanwhile, let me,  by these few  re-
marks,  lead  you to a thought  upon the  subject, and
suggest a  caution.   Do  not  substitute a theological
formula  for  what is   really wanted  by your patient,
viz :  warm, living, human sympathy with him  in  his
suffering, and the expression  of a belief in  the exist-
ence of a merciful Father, rather than a stern, unyield-
ing Judge.  Be, if you can, a real minister of God, to
aid a, perhaps, fainting soul.  Otherwise, stand aside,
in reverent silence, before the August Presence of  All-
powerful Death!
   Gentlemen, in these few hints, given in this part of
my subject, you  have the sum and substance of  my
" Religio Medici."  Whether  I  have said too much or
too little to satisfy the judgments of all, it  mattereth
but little, provided that your young hearts, full as they
must be as  yet, of all generous hope and of earn-
est  aspiration, only understand my motives in thus
speaking.
   All hail! then, I say, to our profession for its influ-
ence on the whole nature  of man!   And you, I trust,
will  cordially say " Amen."
   And now, having thus  hastily shown you, first, the
true  objects we should aspire to in our professional
career, and second, having briefly sketched  the influ- 
24
 ence of our profession upon  the  physical health, the
 heart, the intellect, and the soul of man, I might close
 with a warm farewell, and with  the assurance that it
 will  always be a source of pleasure  to my colleagues
 and myself to hear  of your success in life.   I am un-
 willing, however, to close without some reference to the
 present condition of our beloved country and  the prob-
 able  relations, that  some of you  may eventually hold
 towards some of the patriot men, who are fighting the
 battles of this, our second revolution.
   I cannot conceive of any reasonable man  doubting
 that this is the great historic era of our nation, and be-
 fore which, as the future historian  shall look back upon
 it, all the  glories of that of '76 will pale.  I see in it
 the workings of Divine justice, and in the same way
 that the revolution of 1688 in England, and that of 1792
 in France, swept off, as with the power of a tornado, all
 the criminal despotisms of those days, setting at naught
 all  the  prerogatives of power,  and moulding  like wax
 political constitutions, so, in these our latter days, that
 same  Almighty justice is bringing  upon this nation the
 proper reward for its crimes against liberty, during the
 two past centuries ;  crimes that culminated, a few years
 since, in that impious and Babel-like declaration, " We
 know, on this question, no higher law than the Ameri-
 can Constitution."
  See the marvellous change  already wrought  upon us.
A few years since, political demagoguism and a  peacock-
like strutting pride fairly possessed the nation, and we
foolishly talked of eternity as the certain future of our
immaculate  political  status.   Where now  is  all  that
overweening confidence ?  Gone, and  I trust  forever; 
                         25

and in its place even scoffers look aloft, and admit that
God alone can  ride safely upon this whirlwind, and
direct this storm.   Out of this, our country's " thunder-
storm of battle," if we be but true to our highest  prin-
ciples, he will safely bear our  people, and  the nation
shall  become thereby  purer, nobler, and more  truly
free.
  Under these circumstances, any man is a coward and
recreant to the noblest sentiments  of his nature, who
does not think it the choicest blessing of his life to be
allowed  to have mere existence, at the present  time,
with permission to watch and wait, and serve, even in
the  slightest degree,  in  helping  forward the  great
events that hourly press upon us.
   But to some  of you  who have  surgical tastes and
abilities, how much is  opening?
   Gentlemen, I would have you not only esteem  high-
ly the profession you have  chosen, but likewise, like
true patriots, ever raise aloft the sacred banner of our
country, made more sacred  now that it has inscribed
upon its ample folds, in letters of  living light, " Free-
dom to every slave."   Honor all who fight to sustain
it; and deal gently, as with a brother's hand and heart,
the  brave and  dear  ones,  who fall wounded in its
defence.  Do not, I beg of you, regard  them merely as
interesting cases for your professional  skill, but  bring
the fact  home to your  hearts that they have, in reality,
been fighting for you,  and for the nation's life, and,
whether they have thought so or not, fighting for hu-
man  freedom.  Therefore, you owe them an immense
debt of  gratitude.  While commanding  their respect,
let them be  compelled to give  you  their love for your
4 
26
kindness as well as skill.   I  know  of no nobler field
than that now offered to a young and  enthusiastic sur-
geon in  the volunteer army of the United States, pro-
vided  he duly appreciates the grandeur of  the contest
now going on, and honors, as he should be  honored,
every wounded son of the Union.  Oh, friends, young
brothers, think of  these things when afar off, whether
on  the Western Prairies or in the Sunny  South, you
have dealings with the suffering soldier.   Bear  ever
with your steady, manly, surgeon's  hand a  tenderness,
worthy to be  remembered with that  shown by the
youthful  Zouave for his dying comrade.  Thus  acting
you will do honor to yourselves, to us,  and alma mater.
Above all, while doing  your duty to God and  to  man,
you will raise in the eyes of all beholders  our " Most
Noble Art of Medicine."
  Gentlemen, farewell. 
        ADDFllONAL REMARKS;





                   OR,






A BRIEF PLEA FOR AN AMBULANCE SYSTEM





                  FOR THE






      ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES,
AS DRAWN FROM THE EXTRA SUFFERINGS OF THE LATE LIEUT. BOWDITCH AND




             A WOUNDED COMRADE. 
 
ADDITIONAL  REMARKS
Or a brief Plea for an Ambulance System for  the Army
  of the United States, as drawn from the extra suffer-
  ings of the late Lieut.  Bowditch  and a wounded com-
  rade.
  The foregoing address is printed, as will be seen by
the annexed correspondence,  in accordance  with  the
wishes of the Graduating Medical Class of Harvard
College, as expressed in  its  vote of March  11, 1863.
The  publication has been delayed, in  consequence of
my journey to the camp of the First Massachusetts Cav-
alry, to bring home the  dead body of  my eldest son,
who had fallen, while leading a charge in this war for
free institutions, and for liberty.
  I little thought that, in  less  than one  week from the
hour at which I, in a few words, at the conclusion of
my address, begged of the earnest youths, then before
me, to do everything they could to alleviate the suffer-
ings of the  sick and wounded  soldiers, I  should have
presented to me the terrible  thought that  my own son
would, perhaps,  need  the care of stranger  surgeons
and soldiers for his own relief in his dying hour.
  Since his death, I think  that I  stand in  different,
and, may  I  not say? somewhat wider  relations, than 
30
  those I enjoyed from  the  teacher's  chair.  Resting as
  I now do under the  solemn cloud-shadow of a great
  but benignant sorrow, I hope that  some words I may
  now write,  will reach beyond  the  confines of  my
  profession,  and  touch other human  intellects  and
  hearts, — intellects  and  hearts  of  men and women,
  who will have influence  upon those in power,  and
  who will, with me, endeavor to persuade our leaders to
  do  simple justice  toward every wounded  soldier in  the
  armies of the  United States.
   May I not believe that now I can, of myself, exert a
  greater moral influence upon  those in power, and that
  I can now do something — as  all my previous efforts
  seem to  have  been  vain — toward  persuading  the
 authorities to take some measures, that will secure to
 our wounded soldiers the Nations fostering care, from
 the first moment  of their  fall upon  the  bloody field,
 until they  arrive in our well  supplied and most excel-
 lent hospitals.
   This is not the case at present;  for, under the want
 of all proper arrangements  by the Government,  a
 wounded soldier is liable to  be left to  suffer, and die, it
 may  be, on the battle-ground, without the least attention,
 save  what common humanity would lead one soldier to
 bestow upon a comrade.
  This happens, first, because Congress steadily refuses
to establish any definite  and  efficient Ambulance Corps
m the armies of the Republic; second,  because  the
War Department declines to  do anything in the prem-
lses
  As an  illustration  of,  and in addition to what has
been already published by others, as well as by my- 
31
self,* I beg leave to state that Lieut. Bowditch, having
been mortally wounded, in the first charge made after
leaving Kelly's  Ford, lay helpless on the ground, for
some time,  by the side  of his dead  horse.   Two sur-
geons saw him, but  they evidently had no  means for
carrying off the wounded officer, and  it is believed no
one connected with an Ambulance Corps ever approached
him there.j"
   A stranger horseman, — probably from the Rhode
Island forces, — finally assisted him  to  get  into a sad-
dle ; and he rode off, leaning over the neck of the ani-
mal,— a terrible mode of proceeding, considering his
severe  wound in  the abdomen.  All  this  happened
when he ivas  in  the  rear  of  our  victorious army, or, in
other words, at just the place  and time, at which  a
thorough Ambulance Corps  should  have been busily
at work, seeking out, and relieving, with every means a
great  Government should  have had at its  disposal, the
wretched and, perhaps, dying sufferers.  But what, in
reality, does the Government do to meet such an emer-
gency ?    It  provides a carriage, which  a perfectly
healthy man  would find  exceedingly uncomfortable
to drive in, even for a few miles, and one driver, some-
times not the  most humane.  There are, also, I doubt
not, various articles of surgical  dressings, etc., for the
wounded ;  but these articles  are  generally  far in the

  * Appendix A.
  t Three days after the fight, I heard  several staff officers, —one of whom,
certainly, was a surgeon, — talk, not as if they approved of the fact, but as
if it were a matter of course, — saying  that they " thought" a flag of truce
ought to be sent over the river, to see to our wounded, many of whom were
then, as they believed, still lying on the field! 
32
  rear of the army.  The United States Government did
  not then, and never does, provide any men, whose duty
  it is to hasten to  meet and  to relieve  these hours of
  poignant suffering.   After Lieut. Bowditch arrived at
  the  ambulance  carriage,  there  was  no  water to  be
  found in the casks, connected with it, although,  bylaw,
  there should have been.  The driver was wholly igno-
  rant of the names of those whom he  was carrying.  He
  actually, and in  answer to a  direct  question from Col.
  Curtis, denied that Lieut. Bowditch  was one of them.
  He did  not get  any water  for the Lieutenant and his
  still more suffering comrade, although both longed and
 asked for it!  A wretched and dying Sergeant  begged
 much for it, and in vain !   Had it not been for the kind-
 ness of  Col.  Curtis,  who,  after much difficulty, found
 out where my son was, no  water would probably have
 been procured  for either of the parched sufferers.   As
 it was, it arrived  at last, too late for the Sergeant, who
 was so much exhausted as to be unable to avail him-
 self of the cup, finally proffered him by his wounded
 comrade.
   I mention these shortcomings, as I deem them, of the
 Administration and of Congress, with great reluctance,
 and without a trace of any feeling, save of sorrow.  A
 few months ago, when treating of this same subject, I
 felt, and  may have, at times, expressed, indignation, —
 not an unrighteous one, however, I hope, —at such
 neglect.   Now, with the solemn memories of the past
 few weeks resting on  me, I am sure that all will be-
 lieve that sadness, not anger, must  be  uppermost  in
my mind.   But I would fain plead,  with all the earn-
estness a  stricken father might be supposed to  have, 
33
when in sight of the mangled dead body of a darling,
first-born  son, that such  enormities, as are now liable to
happen, under the present want of any proper ambidance
system in the United States army,  shall not be permitted
hereafter.
   So far as the  ensuing summer campaign  is  to  be
considered, it is already too  late to do anything.   The
Senate of the  United States, under the leadership of
the Chairman of its Military Committee—an honorable
Senator from Massachusetts — refused, a  few  days be-
fore  the late  Congress adjourned, to concur  in the
passage of a bill, previously passed, unanimously, by
the House  of  Representatives.   I am not an advocate
of any particular  bill or special plan.  I only ask for
some system.   The Senate   considered  the plan pro-
 posed  "impracticable," and therefore declined doing
 anything! *  If  all things  were managed by mortals,
 according  to  such a mode of  reasoning, very little
 progress would be made, very little humanity be prac-
 tised, in this world.   The  Senate and Government of
 this free people, decline to do for its citizen volunteer sol-
 diery, what every despot of Europe carefully looks after,
 with reference to his conscripts or his hirelings!
   Some have asked, " But  does not the Government
 do  all it can?   What do  you  want?"   My  reply is,
 a corps  of detailed soldiers, or, what  may be deemed
 better, a corps of honest, brave, and humane men, en-
 listed for  this special  duty, is needed.  Such  a corps
 exists in  every  army  in  Europe.  I have now before
 me a pamphlet devoted solely to giving an account of
 the French and English ambulance systems.   From it
 I will quote the following table :
            5           * Appendix B. 
TABLE A.   General table, showing  the  formation, in the number  of men employed, the amount and character of materials used,

  and the means of transportation, of an active ambulance service for a division of 10,000 men, and the sections of said ambulance ser-
  vice, that  sliould follow the advancing  columns of any smaller force.
Surgeon-in-Chief.............
Head Apothecary...........
First Assistant Surgeons •...
Second Assistant Surgeons..,
Chief Executive Officer......
Assistant Executive Officers.
          , i Sergeants.....
          " > Corporals
          ■> So"  "
Subordinate
 Assistants
Ambulance
 Division
    for
10,000 men.
Soldiers.
■AMBULANCE SECTIONS FOE COLUMNS OF -
I to 9,000   6 to 7,000    4 to 5,000    2 to 3,000   15 to 1800
 men.       men.       men.       men.       men.     1>uuo meu-
Total............................  12?

 1
 1
 1
 4
 1
 2
 3
 4
40

OBSERVATIONS.
CO
HOSPITAL APPARATUS.
MULES AND ARTICLES  NEEDED  FOR AMBULANCE CAMP.
Cases for the Surgical Department.........
  "   for the Dispensary...................
  "   Exec. Dep't, implements and furniture
  "   of supplies for the Health Service___
            "     "     Exec. Service  ....
  "   for the Health and Executive Corps,
Ambulance Casks...........................
Litters......................................
 8
 4
10
14
20
23
 8
1G
 0
 4
10
12
1(5
22
 8
1(5
The amounts given here ap-
ply to the ambulance  sup-
plies of columns acting with-
in the limits of our outposts ;
that is to say, within reach
of the centre'of supplies. 
IHankets (baled, in packages of teiO.....
        for the  sick..............'.......
   "    for wrappers..................
Tents, holding Hi men each, and apparatus.'!
Hags for stakes and poles..................
       Tntnsportittlonfor the Sick.
Transportation  )  j\'»do Litters (pairs)......
    Tram      i  ( usl»oned panniers (prs),
              )  Mules...........
 20
 30
  8

 21
200
  1
 10
  4

 21
200
Total...........................I ...   ;j(;.i
ISO
 28
 18
 28
 18
200
  1
 14
  3

 18
200
100	8	140	7	120	0	100	5	fi	3	
24	11	20	1	it;	1	12	1	9		For expeditions operatine at
1(1	1	14	1	12		10		0		a distance in the South, the
22	11 3	Hi 4	8	10	5	0	3	4	2	number of cases of supplied must be increased sufficient-
			2	4	2	2	1	1	H	ly to receive a third more
										linen lor wounds and a dou-
14	14	10	10	8	8	4	4	2 30	2 30	ble supply of nutritious food.
100	100	110	110 4	80 4	80	GO	50			The number of cushioned panniers should be increas-
*'	*'				4	2	2	1	1	ed in the proportion of one-fifth,and the transport mules also in the same proportion.
	230									
AMOUNTS SUBSTITUTED  FOU THE ABOVE, FOR AMBULANCES OF TROOPS ACTINO IN THE SOUTH.
Cases of supplies for the Health Service " Exec. " .;;; Cushioned panniers for mules' backs.....	20 40 300	13 20 300	20 3(i 200	1(1 18 200	10 28 21)0	8 14 200	21 24 150	0 12 150	8 14 120	4 7 120	5 10 00	2.1 5 0u	5 6 70	2i 3 70	
Report of the number of mules attached to other parts of the Ambulance Apparatus.		333 ... 04 ...		27S 80	... | 222 ... | 71			108 57				97J ... 27§ ...		75| 16£	
Total of mules for the Southern columns,		427	1 •••	358	... J 205			225				125 | ...		02	
   Remembering  that there were about 2,000 Union men in the  fight at Kelly's Ford, the reader will  be easily able to judge how
many men would have been actually detailed  as  an ambulance corps, and how much of "apparatus," &c, for  the same object
would have accompanied the expedition,  if our Government had the  views of the French Government on the necessity and hu-
manity  of taking care of  our  wounded.   One would  think that self-interest  would  lead  any Government to try,  as  much  as
possible, to save  a wounded soldier  for future use, even  if common  humanity  were left out of sight.
CO
in 
36
   The pamphlet from which this  table is taken is one
 of 70 pages  octavo, and is written by Mons. Boudin,
 Chief Physician of the  Military  Hospital  at Boule,
 Paris.*
   From the table,  the  reader will see the number  of
 officers and men and apparatus,  connected  with the
 ambulance  service of the French army.
   That service, it appears,  is capable of being divided
 so that a certain portion of its  effective force and sup-
 plies can be readily selected, at a  short notice, for any
 number of  regiments or brigades, &c.
   The  United States, doubtless, provides freely of sup-
 plies, but it steadily refuses to  have any drilled corps
 to administer these  supplies, in the most humane  and
 most efficient manner.   All is left, in a great measure,
 to chance!
   A  chance  man carried  Lieut. Bowditch  from  the
 field.   Nothing scarcely was known  until Col. Curtis
 sought for and found  him, in  the last carriage.  The
 driver knew not whom he  was carrying, though both
 of the  wounded  men  were  fully able to report their
 names  and  regiments.   He had shamefully neglected
 to have water in his vehicle, or to get it for the suf-
 ferers, when one of  them earnestly  asked for it.
   It may appear an absurdity to a  military man, that
 a civilian should  pretend to have any opinion upon the
 subject.  But it seems to me that our immense  armies
 need a corps of men for these special duties, of looking

  * Systeme des  Ambulances des Armees Francaise et Anglaise; Instructions
qtu reglent cette  branche du  service administratif et medical, par M. Boudin,
Officier de la Legion d Honneur, Medicin en chef de V Hospital Militaire du
Boule.  Avec trois planches.  Paris : J. B. Bailliere.  1855. 
37
after the wounded soldier, as much as we need a special
surgical  corps, special paymasters, a  special engineer
corps, special men for cavalry, infantry, artillery  ser-
vice, &c.  Certainly, the object is sufficiently great and
humane.  When thousands of men are inevitably to be
wounded, it would seem to be perfectly suicidal  in the
Government,  even in a  selfish  point  of view,  not to
have  a corps  enlisted  or detailed, to  save  as  many as
can be  saved.   As  it is now,  if  a  soldier  be once
put even temporarily, hors du combat,  it would seem
as if the Government were wholly indifferent  whether
he lived or died.
   Again, by having such a corps, the number of com-
batants would not be so  rapidly lessened, as it is now,
by several men taking one wounded from the field.*
   Such  an ambulance  corps should consist  of able-
bodied, brave men, — men not afraid to go to the frout
to save a fallen fellow-man.  They should  have a dis-
tinctive uniform.   Arrangements might be concluded
whereby the  ambulance  corps, in both armies,  should
be considered as the laws of war usually regard pickets,
that is, as not to be molested in their specific duties, save
perhaps, under  extraordinary circumstances.   Doubt-
less, many of such a  body would fall, but  it would be
from random shots, and not from the voluntary barbar-
ism  of either army.   It  would be a brave, and noble,
Christian death.   Such a corps should take  its place
near  the  battle-field.   It  should be well trained  to
march, immediately to raise and carry off the wounded

  * One surgeon told me he saw eight men carrying off one wounded soldier!
Four were bearers — and four were intended for " relief" — and were walking
by the hill, doing nothing. Few if any of these men returned to their posts. 
38
with the least suffering possible.   It  could attend to
minor points of surgery, and act as nurses, or cooks on
the field, in tent, and in hospital, &c.  Is it too much
to hope that, at some future day, similar corps, from any
two belligerent armies, will, under certain restrictions,
be allowed to mingle together, upon the field, more  im-
mediately after the termination of a battle, than is now
allowed %   If, by  mutual agreement between two  con-
tending parties, this  object  could  be gained,  a  vast
amount of extra  suffering would be  prevented,  and,
doubtless, many lives saved.   There  are  hundreds of
details, that might be  named, in which  such a corps
would  be invaluable.  Every great European  nation
has such, in its armies, thoroughly trained.  Why  can-
not we have  such 1
   There is no valid  reason.   On  the  contrary, I have
good reason for believing that it is the arbitrary will of
one mind, and to which even Senators bow, that  has
prevented  all action.  Many persons have vainly  ap-
pealed to the President.  The Medical Societies of some
of the large  States  have appealed to him,  and to  the
War Department.  Committees, and private citizens of
New York and Boston  have earnestly asked of Con-
gress, of General Halleck, and of  Mr. Stanton, to do
something.  All efforts, thus far, have  been fruitless.
   I now make one more appeal, but this time not to
any one man,  or to  Congress, but to our Imperial
" Csesar,"  the People !   The  People must take  this
matter into its own hands, and compel  the Government
to look fairly at the  whole subject.
   The people are willing their sons should  dedicate
their young, heroic lives to this Holy War, this Blossom- 
39
ing-out of Centuries.   We have, even in our bereave-
ment at their death, a certain triumphant joy, if they, as
instruments  of High Heaven, be accounted worthy to
be martyrs in  so sacred a cause.  But we  have a right
to demand that they shall not be needlessly tortured, or
thrown aside, like their own wounded steeds, to die per-
haps by the  wayside, for want of  proper care from our
Government.  If any government under Heaven ought
to be paternal, the United States authority, deriving, as
it does, all its powers from the people, should surely be
such, and should dispense that power, in full streams of
benignant mercy upon  its soldiers, when wounded in its
defence.
   I look  forward, with  dismay, at  the extra suffering
that may fall on thousands of the splendid youths, now
in our army, during the ensuing summer campaign.
Fortunately  for the Army of the Potomac, as long  ago
as August last, General McClellan established a certain
ambulance system of detailed soldiers, and under the
enlightened suggestions of Dr. Letterman, Medical Di-
rector of the same army, I learn  that much  good was
accomplished by it after the Fredericksburg fight.   But
the facts of my son's case have proved that the arrange-
ments of the Army of  the Potomac  are still imperfect,
and there are other armies, in which not even this im-
perfect system  exists.  I am  authorized to state as the
deliberate opinion of General McClellan himself,  that
the arrangements in vogue in the Army of the Potomac,
while he was in command, might still be improved, he
does not consider that  by any means as complete.*  It
* Appendix C.  See letter from General McClellan. 
40
was evidently introduced  to meet a want, not radically
to supply the deficiency.  I rejoice  however, to  think
that, under  the  present enlightened chieftain of  the
brave  army, thus alluded to, Major-General Hooker,
aided by members of his professional staff, an immense
amount  of  suffering will be  prevented.   But  this
statement only brings out into bolder  relief the utter
chaos, that  exists almost everywhere  else  along our
lines ;  a chaos only relieved by the fact that man's suf-
ferings, the  world over, always appeal to man.   The
wounded soldier will be taken some care  of, even when
forsaken by his government!
   Let  me not be  misunderstood, I claim to be intensely
loyal to this  Administration.  It  is the  government
of my choice, I have been striving to get such a gov-
ernment, for over twenty years.  I will  ever do what I
can to sustain it.  But it will  never do for me, with my
views of honorable loyalty to  a government, to keep out
of sight such plain shortcomings on the part of those
in power.   More especially, do I feel  called upon to
speak and write  plainly on this subject, because I be-
lieve that all that is really wanted  is an  enlightened
public sentiment upon the matter.  When that  comes
the Government will, of course, be compelled to attend
to it.  Let  me not  therefore be  considered disloyal,
when,  while  endeavoring to enlighten  the people,
I would also  strive  to  make the  Government,  truly
noble, generous, and humane, in this department  of its
administration.  Those  individuals are the really dis-
loyal, who would check  such  endeavors.
  I care, however, very  little  what interpretation may
be put upon my conduct at the present time and in the 
41
past, but I wish it  fairly understood that I cannot do
otherwise, and be true to the instincts, implanted in me
as I believe, by God, for my guidance.  Such being the
fact, I shall always,  on all proper and perhaps, on what,
some may deem, improper occasions, continue to  urge
upon the public and upon the  Government attention to
this matter.
   In conclusion, let  me, therefore, earnestly appeal to
every man and woman in this country, to do his or her
share toward bringing about  a better state of things.
Let the  hapless  sufferings  and  bleeding  forms  of
thousands of our  noblest youth, wounded or slain in
this holy  war for the Republic's Life, and for human
liberty, plead for this cause.   Let every one, who has
 a friend now in the army, remember what that  loved
 one may be called  upon to endure, in consequence of
 this culpable neglect of those now in power.  Every
 one  of you has some  influence.   Let that influence,
 however  great  or  trivial it may seem to yourself, be
 brought to bear, either by letter or  by personal con-
 versation, upon every member of the Government, the
 President and his Cabinet, and Senators and Repre-
 sentatives.   Let the press be made  to speak.   The
 blessings of '■ him who  is ready to perish," will fall
 like Heaven's own dew upon  your hearts, if ye steadily
 and faithfully pursue this  subject, and  do your  share
 toward its perfect  accomplishment.


    Even at this very hour, while  these pages are pass-
 ing through the press, the moans  of thousands  of our
 dying youth have  been  rising from the battle-fields of
               a 
42
 Fredericksburg, begging  each one of you  to  do your
 duty to them ; and demand  of our  Senators  that they
 shall no  longer  decline to do anything toward  estab-
 lishing some ambulance system in the  armies of the
 Republic.   Do not, I beg of you, believe that Massa-
 chusetts has done all  her  duty in this particular.  On
 the contrary, she  stands convicted of the fact that one
 Senator reported  against a bill, and the  other stood by
 at the  time, and said not one  word to  prevent the atro-
 cious neglect of a most plain duty on the part of Gov-
 ernment.   Our present State Executive has urged this
 subject, again and again, upon the President and  those
 in power, but all  in vain.   Both Senators from Massa-
 chusetts are either dumb, or  in open opposition  to all
 action  in the premises.
   I am well aware that, when the cause itself rises, by
its magnitude,  far  above  all special individual  rela-
tions, any personal remarks are usually to be avoided.
There  are times, however, when justice and humanity
demand them,  as in the prophetic  days  of  old.  I
come as no prophet,  but  simply as a man,  and while
thus  singling out the Massachusetts Senators, I do so
from no  other  motive than  to bring, more forcibly,
to the  minds and hearts of the loyal North, the gross
dereliction of duty, evinced by every Senator from the
Free States.
                              Henry I. Bowditch.
  Boylston Street,  May 22, 1863. 
APPENDIX.
  The following  are Reports of Drs. Stedman  and Bowditch,
who went with  an ambulance train  to the battle-field at Cen-
treville.   They are taken from  Dr. Gay's Report to the War
Committee of Ward IV.  In introducing them, Dr. Gay says :
  '' The statements in  reference to the  ambulance drivers de-
mand universal action to instantly correct  this brutal custom."

Dr. George H. Gay : —
  Dear Sir, — I beg to submit  the following as a report of my
experience during my late visit to the battle-field near Fairfax
Court House, Va.
  At 10 o'clock, Sept. 5, 1802, a message came to " Willard's,"
in  Washington,  from Surgeon-General  Hammond, that two
surgeons  were  much  needed at a spot between Fairfax Court
House and Centre ville, where many soldiers  lay wounded and
starving.   Dr. Bowditch and myself immediately  volunteered
our services, and at 11 P. m., we started in a train of fifty ambu-
lances for the scene of suffering.  The distance to be travelled was
about twenty-two miles.   The  halts on the way were numer-
ous, and some  were prolonged most unnecessarily,  as it seemed
to us. The horses were stout, the weather cool till after sunrise,
and then warm, but the heat not exhausting.   At the end of
the journey we were to find men dying from starvation and neg-
lect of surgical  attendance ; and yet  the horses  must be allowed
to walk a great portion of the  way, and be watered every few
miles, while the  freight of each wagon was light.   Beyond all
example, the driver of the  ambulance, in which it was my lot
to ride, was the most vulgar, ignorant, and profane man I ever 
44
 came in contact with.   But in contrast with him, the  driver of
 the  ambulance  in  which  I  returned,  was  one  of the  most
 humane men.   He had been a soldier in the regular  army for
 nine years — had been wounded in one of our earliest battles —
 and since his recovery had been employed as Government team-
 ster.  On the wagon-master's command to him to drive faster,
 and keep  up with the ambulances ahead  of ours, he remon-
 strated,  saying the  men in his wagon were  suffering intolerably
 already, and he did not intend to make  them  suffer  more if he
 could prevent it.  His  expressions of sympathy were frequent,
 and doubtless afforded some consolation to the wounded.   One
 or two other drivers, who came under my notice, behaved them-
 selves with  becoming humanity and gentleness in their assist-
 ance of the  sufferers ;  though, as a body,  these drivers were
 such as would disgrace, it may be, any menials ever sent out to
 the aid  of the  sick and wounded.  The wagon-masters them-
 selves, of whom we expected better things, were not overborne,
 apparently, by any deep sentiments of compassion for  the suf-
 ferers.   I noticed that in  going to the  battle-field they took no
 pains to  hasten on the train.   On the contrary, as before said,
 the halts were too frequent and prolonged.   But in returning;,
 though  admonished by  the groans  of the soldiers, which were
 continuous from one end  of the train  to  the other, they often
 urged the teamsters to drive faster.
   On arriving at our place of destination,  lying about on the
 grass or in an old house and its out houses, we  found  about one
 hundred  and fifty  soldiers, suffering from  gunshot  wounds of
 every description, inflicted five or  six days  before.  Two had
 been shot through the lungs ; one through both thighs and scro-
 tum; some through the  abdomen.  In  short, no part of the
 body had escaped.   Four surgeons of the army were in attend-
 ance ; but from want of  food and  sleep they were  nearly ex-
 hausted ; and being unable to perform but little duty, they request-
 ed me to remove some limbs, which operations were necessary to
the more favorable  transportation of the wounded to Washing- 
45
ton.  These were an amputation of the thigh, for a wound of
the knee-joint and compound fracture of the former ; and an am-
putation of an arm, for compound fracture and extensive lacera-
tion at elbow-joint.
   And here let me notice the kind and assiduous attention to his
wounded, of Dr.  Joseph W. Hastings, Assistant-Surgeon, 21st
Regiment, Massachusetts Volunteers, who was indefatigable in
his service to  all under his care.  It was evident that his readi-
ness, gentleness, and quiet  cheerfulness, as well as skill and ca-
pacity, had won the gratitude of his regiment.  I would not de-
preciate the merits of the other surgeons at this station.  I speak
thus of Dr. Hastings only because of  my more frequent oppor-
tunities of witnessing his conduct.
   On the  following morning, after dressing many wounds, I
 accompanied  Dr.  H. to the rebel hospital, about four miles
 farther, on the Warrenton road, for  the  purpose of  removing
 Capt. Kelton,  of the  21st Regiment, whose thigh had  been
 amputated  by Dr. Miller, the rebel surgeon.  We  found four of
 our soldiers there, and about seventy-five wounded rebels, lying
 on the hay in a very comfortable  stone barn.  I  observed  that
 the medicines and surgical appliances used there had Philadelphia
 labels.  Had  they been captured, stolen, or smuggled?   Our
 men expressed  themselves  gratified with the attention they had
 received from the rebel doctor; for which  I could do  no less
 than thank him.   We then placed Capt. K. in the ambulance,
 and returned to our hospital.
    In the afternoon we loaded the ambulances with the wounded,
 and at 44 o'clock started for Washington,  which, after a night of
 horror, made such by the  cries and groans  of the sufferers, the
 drunkenness,  profanity, and  inhumanity of the drivers, wc
 reached about four o'clock the next  morning.   The  men  were
 deposited in  the various hospitals in the city, and at noon  I
 found some  of them,  those  two  especially upon whom I  had
 operated, contented and cheerful  as possible under the circum-
 stances.
    I shall never forget the  anxiety with which I watched for the 
46
safety of those two men.   But one ligature had been  required
in securing the artery in the thigh.   Suppose from the constant
jolting of  the wagon, or from  any other cause, that ligature
should have come off; or that such should have been  the  case
with the man whose arm had been lost, how could life have been
saved?  No one ambulance would have been  allowed  to  stop,
as the whole train would have then been compelled to wait, and
the sufferings of all the other wounded would have been increased
or prolonged.  Thank Heaven no such accident occurred, and I
hope no one was permanently afflicted by this sad journey.
   It will appear from this narration that our expedition to Vir-
ginia was not  unattended with good results to those whose dis-
tresses we were called on to succor.   For my own  part, I feel
that should the sad  opportunity again offer itself, the experience
I have thus gained would avail  for a more satisfactory service
than any before rendered.
     Respectfully, your friend and servant,
                                        C.  H. Stedman.

   At a meeting of the Boston Society for Medical Improvement,
held Sept.  22, 1862, Dr. Bowditch remarked as follows :
   " I desire  to bring before the Society a subject of great im-
portance to the future welfare of our wounded soldiers ; although,
at first sight, it may not seem exactly appropriate for a meeting
of this Society.
   " During my recent visit to Washington with other physicians,
summoned there by the Secretary of War, I was brought imme-
diately  in  contact  with  the  abominable  system, or rather no
system, of ambulances now in use in our  army.   The  atrocities
I saw committed, are, I think, a sufficient reason for bringing
the subject before you, in  order that, either  by the individual
effort of the  members, or by the united  action  of the Society,
public opinion may be made so  strong as to force the Govern-
ment to devise some  plan  more  in  accordance with common
humanity,  and more truly military in its discipline. 
47
  " On the evening of Friday, Sept. 5, at the request of the
surgeon-general,  I joined  an ambulance train that was just
starting to go to the relief of  our  starving and wounded men,
near Centreville.  There was a train of fifty carriages.  I sub-
sequently learned that three  of the  drivers, afraid  of  entering
the enemy's lines, escaped with their ambulance wagons before
we reached  Long Bridge.  This was easily  accomplished, as
there was no escort; and, as it subsequently appeared, no power
to prevent such an event.   It is true  that  an  army-surgeon
accompanied and gave general directions to the train, but he was
in the first wagon, and could  not know what was doing towards
the end of the long train.  I  soon perceived that the drivers
were  men of the lowest character,  evidently taken  from  the
 vilest purlieus of Washington, merely as common  drivers, and
 for  no  other  qualification.  Their  oaths  were flaunted forth
 without  the least  regard to  the  presence  of superiors, and
 with a profusion that  was really remarkable, even in the vicinity
 of Washington.   The driver of my ambulance became sleepy
 as the night wore on, and as  his zigzag course over a Virginia
 road was rather  perilous, and as he informed me  that he had
 been overturned a few weeks previously, I thought it more pru-
 dent to drive myself,  rather than to allow him to do so.  V\ hile
 the moon was up, this was comparatively easy.  He accordingly
 slept inside of the carriage  until 3 or 4 a. m. ; he then reluc-
 tantly a-ain took the reins, because I was unwilling, owing to
 the darkness, to drive further.   His whole  deportment during
 the night showed a disregard for everything save his own  com-

  OT«' Early in the forenoon, however,  appeared  on the part of
  the drivers of nearly one half the train, a  total want of  disci-
  pline,  and a forgetfulness of the  object and character of our
  mission, that seemed to  me  atrocious.  Suddenly, I perceived
  one half of the train was stopping, and all  the  drivers leaving
  their carriaoes, rushed into  an  adjacent field, and there  spen
       minutes in stoning and  shaking the trees in an apple and
some 
48
peach orchard ; and all this in the presence of part of the fam-
ily of a Virginia planter !   These individuals made no resist-
ance.  They apparently thought  it would  be of no  use ; for
over all this road had the  two  armies  swept again and again.
In vain I pleaded that we  were breaking the sacredness of the
flag of truce, — that we richly  deserved  death for  plundering
private property.  In vain  I urged the inhumanity of  leaving        j
our suffering, starving soldiers, in  order to fill their own greedy       jj
stomachs.   I appealed to one  of the three leaders who  rode on       j
horseback,  and pretended to be the leaders of the train.   He
only smiled a  smile  of  ineffable  contempt, and  munched his
stolen apple with perfect nonchalance.   Mean while the flag of
truce  was  lost  afar off in  the distance,  and our  party  was
obliged to drive, for some time, with great  rapidity in order to
overtake it.  Just as  my carriage  started, a heavy stone struck
it not very  far from my  head.  It had evidently  been  hurled,
and justly hurled, at us for  our infamous conduct.   I remarked
that  hereafter I should  know why our ambulances were fired       11
upon by the enemy.   The only answer I obtained was an oath.        /j
  " About  mid-day we arrived, and found  our men in a most
piteous condition, lying  everywhere, inside and outside of every
building connected with a small farm-house.  The negro-quar-
ters was a  palace, — the manure-heap was a soft bed.   The
fairest  place was under a wide-spreading tree.   I  found the
drivers did  not feel it  to be their duty to help the sufferers, but
sulked, or swore, or laughed,  as it pleased each.   On  the fol-
lowing morning, it  is true,  I did  persuade my own driver to
bring to me water, as I was dressing the wounds of the soldiers ;
but it was difficult even to get  that, and he  aided me because I        v1
asked him to do so,  and not  because  he  had  any heart in the
work.
  "On Saturday, P. M., we started  for  Washington, — all
the sick having  been  arranged in  different ambulances, under
charge of various surgeons.   That  night  I  shall never forget.
I had taken one  of those  most  severely wounded under my  own 
49
special charge.  The ball had passed into his chest, and caused
intense difficulty of breathing.   He  was a  German, and one of
the most uncomplaining  of sufferers; and  his broken words of
gratitude for the slightest  token of  kindness, were most touch-
ins:-  None  but  a brute  could have failed to be kind to  him.
He could lie only on one  side, and  consequently his  head was
placed directly behind my driver.   During the  first part of the
way, I did not think that  the driver paid the least attention to
the road with reference to the comfort of the patient.   In early
 night, his tongue ran glibly on in  loud, indifferent talk, or the
 vilest profanity, — thus preventing all sleep.    As  the  night
 progressed,  I was distressed to find  that the whiskey,  with
 which he  probably had  supplied himself,  was having its usual
 soporific effect, and  he  fell back upon the  panting form of my
 patient.  1 lifted him up, and told him I  could not allow such
 treatment of the sick  man.   The  only response I got was a
 muttered oath of " men  complaining," &c. But  it was all in
 vain.   Again and again did  he fall  back, until at last I took
 the  reins, and drove most of the   night  with one hand, while
 with the  other I supported this snoring drunkard !
    " Of  course, I repeated  all these  facts in a  letter to the
  Surgeon-General.  He  assured me that I could not tell him
  anything new — that he  had, months  since, foretold to the Sec-
  retary of War the horrors, that would occur with such a set of
  wretches as usually were found in  a body of ambulance drivers
  __that  he  had vainly endeavored to obtain some  system, but
  there was none now.   The  whole  of the ambulances are under
  the Quartermaster's department.    He (the Surgeon-General,)
  had not the control of a single  carriage.  All his efforts had
  been in  vain."
     "I want now," continued Dr. Bowditch,  "through  this
   Society, to create a public sentiment that will compel the Gov-
   ernment to attend to this matter,  and  to have a real ambulance
   corps.  Dr. Hammond  (the Surgeon-General)  is not wedded
   to  any plan ;  but he has suggested the  appointment of six am-
                         7 
50
bulances to each regiment, and three men to  each ambulance,
viz : one driver and two assistants.    The  latter would take the
wounded,  in  a  careful, methodical  manner, from the field.
This would prevent, in some measure, the  soldiers from leaving
their  ranks,  and  would  likewise  be more  humane for the
wounded.   All the corps would be under strict military disci-
pline.   But I repeat, all  that is  desired  is, that some plan be
adopted.  Now  all is  chaos.  I make no motion on this mat-
ter, but leave these facts before  the Society, hoping  that they
will, in some way, tend to relieve our suffering soldiers."
  Dr. J. Mason Warren moved  that Dr.  Bowditch be request-
ed to  reduce his  remarks to writing, and  that the facts be laid
before the public in the journals of the day.
  Dr. H.  W. Williams moved that Dr.  Bowditch be a Com-
mittee to report some plan of address to the Secretary of War,
to be  sent by the physicians of Massachusetts, in  furtherance
of some plan for the establishment  of a United States Ambu-
lance Corps.
                     S. L. Abbott, Chairman of Meeting.
  Francis Minot, Secretary. 
51
                             B

Mr. Wilson, of  Massachusetts :
   "The Committee on Military Affairs and the Militia, to whom
was referred the bill (A. R. No. 719,) in  relation to Military
Hospitals and to organize an ambulance corps, have instructed
me to report it back with a recommendation that it do not pass.
I will not make the motion for its indefinite postponement, but
let it go on the table.
   " I  will  simply say that this bill has passed the House  of
Representatives, and  the Committee on  Military Affairs have
considered it with  a great deal of care.   There is great interest
in  the  country in regard to it, but we think it an impracticable
measure to  organize such a corps at this time."
    [In the Senate, February 24, 1863.]
                                   From JVashington Globe.
                             C
                                New York,  February 21, 1863.
Henry I. Bowditch, M. D., Boston.
  My  Dear Sir :   I owe you an apology for my long delay
in replying to  your letter of the 2d, but it was mislaid, and I
could not  conveniently reply without the letter before me.
  You ask me —
  " 1st.   Is there  at present any uniform ambulance system
in the army of  the United States ? "
  There is not, unless quite recently introduced.
  " 2d.  Do you deem any system necessary? "
  Clearly so.   I think that any general  officer who has served
with troops in the field will declare such a system as essential,
not only in regard to the  comfort of sick and wounded, but to
secure efficiency. 
52
  3d.   Should the men in the ambulance corps  be detailed
soldiers, taken from time to time from the ranks ; or should they
be men enlisted for the purpose and taught their especial duties ?
  There are many self-evident objections to the system of tak-
ing men temporarily from the ranks for this duty; they need
instructions in  their peculiar functions, as well  as the ordinary
discipline, and should have a distinctive uniform.  I am of the
opinion that men should be enlisted especially for  duty in the        /
ambulance corps.
  4th.  Do you think the establishment of such a corps would
increase the number of non-combatants ?
  I think it would decrease the number of non-combatants espe-
cially during battles.
  In conclusion, I would beg  to repeat what I  have previously
said to you in  substance, that is, that I regard  the  formation of
a well organized ambulance corps as  one of the  great desiderata
for our armies.
  Again, expressing my regret that  I have so  long delayed re-
plying to your letter,                                               /
  I am dear sir, very truly yours,
                    GEORGE B.  McCLELLAN,
                                  Major-General U. S. A.
\