AN 
ADDRESS 
DELIVERED DEFORE THE 
ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 
OF THE 
COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS, 
IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK, 
BY 
GEORGE A. PETERS, M.l)., 
February 28th, 1871. 
NEW YORK: 
Bradstreet Press, 279 Broadway. 
1 8 72. AN 
ADDRESS 
DELIVERED BEFORE THE 
ALUMNI ASSOCIATION 
OF THE 
COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS, 
IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK, 
BY 
GEORGE A. PETERS, M.D., 
February 28th, 1871. 
NEW YORK: 
Bradstreet Press, 279 Broadway. 
1 872. ADDRESS. 
A year ago to-night I was not here; some of yon were ; you 
who were, are to blame for my appearance here to-night in this 
guise. Perhaps it would have been better for all of us had I 
been here. I should, at any rate, have escaped the labor-pains 
of composition, and you would not have been obliged to listen 
to the feeble cry of the child born. 
A year ago to-morrow morning, or thereabout, while seated 
in my easy chair waitifig for the “coming man,” my eye, roam- 
ing lazily over the morning paper, fell upon a paragraph 
announcing that the Alumni Association of the College of 
Physicians and Surgeons had met the evening before and had 
a good time generally. 
Suspecting no evil, I regretted my absence from the meeting, 
and was rather disposed to blame the secretary for not taking 
more pains to jog the memory of at least one alumnus who 
would have greatly enjoyed the reunion. 
On reading further, you who dread such things as I do, can 
readily imagine my surprise when I learned that I had been 
elected your president for the coming year. 
What had I done that this thing should befall me ? Al- 
though always meaning to attend, I had almost universally 
been absent from your meetings. Living, as I supposed, at 
peace with all my professional brethren, I began to fear that I 
had an enemy, and that he had caused this thing to be done 
unto me. 
At my earliest convenience I sought out one of the commit- 
tee and asked him, why this ? He replied that friends had thus 4 
used me and not an enemy. He said other things, from all of 
which I gathered that the office was not much “ hankered after ” 
by the brethren, and that I being absent, consequently not 
able to decline, and supposed to be good-natured, should be 
elected and the entire matter left to chance and the future. 
I asked what were the emoluments and penalties pertaining 
to the high position ? To which he replied, blandly, that the 
emoluments were not large, and maliciously, as I thought, that 
the penalty was to “speak a piece.” 
As the time was a year off in the future, and as under such 
circumstances one year seems very like a thousand; likewise as 
so many things may and often do happen in a year to postpone 
and derange our best laid plans, in a weak moment I accepted. 
Spring came, and if you recollect, it was not such an one as 
Thomson sings in melodious measure, and the hottest of all hot 
summers followed, such as was known not in the memory of 
the oldest. All recollection of what I was to do melted out of 
me, and I was happy. Then came a lovely autumn, the only 
really enjoyable season vouchsafed to us who dwell in these 
latitudes, and my peace of mind continued, and the end of the 
year, if an occasional glimpse of it was revealed, seemed yet 
afar off. Finally rude winter and and a rapidly returning spring 
reminded me that the time to “ speak my piece ” approached. 
What shall it be ? I know it will not be a song ; I hope it 
may not “ turn out a sermon.” 
It is the custom at family gatherings for those assembled to 
recite the glories of a common ancestry, and to especially mag- 
nify the beauties and accomplishments of their nourishing 
mother. Let. us imitate so worthy an example, and sing the 
praises of our Alma Mater. I say our mother only, for we 
seem to be the product of an “ immaculate conception,” having- 
no father whom we know of or can discover, being sort of half 
orphans. 
The records tell us that our mother was born about sixty- 
four years ago, in a respectable neighborhood in this city, I was about to say of poor but honest parents; she seems, however, 
not to have been born after the manner of men, but rather to 
have sprung into being in the full vigor of her womanhood, 
like glorious Athena from the head of Zeus, clad in helmet and 
shield, full armed and ready for the fray. 
Infancy she had none, and so escaped the perils and sequelae 
of dentition, measles, and scarlet fever. 
She conceived early, for do we not read that under the care 
of such distinguished physicians and accoucheurs as Mitchell, 
Miller, Hossack, and Macneven, she gave birth; as early as 1811, 
to eight sturdy boys, among whom were T. Romeyn Beck and 
John W. Francis, who, though they be dead, yet speak. 
The conscript fathers seem to have treated our mother with 
some consideration and respect, and to have endeavored to free 
her from the pinching pangs of poverty; for they granted an 
endowment of twenty thousand dollars, which enabled her 
trustees to purchase for her a dwelling-place, in Pearl street, 
since which time she has never been without a local habitation, 
although several times obliged to change, crowded northward 
by the steady march of trade. 
Our parent has always been possessed of an even temper, 
accompanying as it does sound physical and mental health • 
nevertheless, her trustees and advisers would sometimes quarrel 
amongst themselves, and with others; and as a result, we find 
that, “to the discussions between the College and the New 
York County Medical Society, which began in 1819, there suc- 
ceeded new causes of discord between the trustees and the 
faculty. These culminated in the resignation of the entire 
faculty, in April, 1826, and the appointment of a new corps of 
professors a few months afterwards.” Such discord and mis- 
fortune could not tame the spirit of her who was destined to 
nurse wise men and heroes. By a new provision in the consti- 
tution, the faculty were excluded from the board of trustees, 
and both bodies have since worked in harmony. The College 
removed from Barclay to Crosby street, in November, 1837, 6 
where it remained for nearly twenty years, and where myself, 
and many of you with me here to-night, were born into the 
profession; let us hope to a life of usefulness and honor. The 
spacious and convenient edifice, in which we are now assembled, 
has been the homestead since January, 1856, and now bears the 
title of “ The College of Physicians and Surgeons in the City 
of New York, Medical Department of Columbia College.” 
The next hegira will be made, I trust, to the neighborhood 
of some large hospital, in intimate connection with which the 
sphere of usefulness may be enlarged, and greater facilities 
afforded for the broadest and deepest teaching of our noble art. 
Except we pause in the march, look back and reflect, we can 
hardly appreciate the wonderful changes and improvements 
which have come to pass, in the teaching and practice of medi- 
cine and surgery, since the formation of this College. 
It cannot be said' of those who have taught, and toiled, and 
practiced in our profession, during the past century, that “ the 
forms of the fathers' thoughts were the forms of the sons’,” and 
they have not been employed in “ merely treading into paths 
the foot-prints of their distant ancestors.” They have made 
broad avenues, opened new vistas, explored territories before 
unknown, and made discoveries, the mere mention of which 
causes a thrill of satisfaction, and we rejoice that our lives have 
fallen in these times. 
Three centuries ago, when Elizabeth, the proudest of Eng- 
land’s sovereigns, reigned—an age in which literature and 
science made gigantic strides—where stood our profession? It 
is narrated that “ Elizabeth, in 1566, went on progress to 
Oxford University. The days of her stay were spent in * * * 
attending the exercises of the University. The Professor of 
Medicine maintained, in the Queen’s presence, that it was not 
the province of the physician to cure disease, because diseases 
were infinite, and the infinite was beyond the reach of art; or, 
again, because medicine could not retard age, and age ended in 
death, and, therefore, medicine could not preserve life.” In our day, the art of medicine is so far advanced that we 
can affirm with confidence that many diseases are cured; not 
left to run their course until they are run out, but checked mid- 
way in their career and cured. The physician of to-day has no 
fear of miasma, for he knows that with quinine it can be van- 
quished. Hence, the traveller goes upon scientific journeyings, 
into the tropical jungle, with the assurance that he will escape 
the perils by disease and return ladened with material for 
increasing the general fund of knowledge. The hardy pioneer 
fears not to march onward and rapidly extend the area of 
civilization. Even the “Star of Empire,” with more confidence, 
takes “ its westward way.” 
When some of you who now hear me, graduated years ago, 
what were the advantages of the student as compared with 
now? Our teachers were diligent, faithful men, but were 
obliged to rely chiefly on didactic teaching, with only occasional 
clinical instruction. The microscope, as applied to medicine, 
was in its infancy, and its wonderful revelations, which have 
shed such floods of light upon the physiological and pathologi- 
cal condition of tissues and organs, and, consequently, so sim- 
plified the treatment of many diseases, were hardly dreamed of 
by the wildest enthusiast. Now the student of a year sees 
with his eyes, and reads intelligently, what to you was a sealed 
book. 
Then the records of disease and experience were clear for the 
times, but auscultation and percussion have forced the cavity 
of the human chest to reveal secrets which were only guessed 
at. The thermometer and sphygmometer, in their daily record, 
have a chart, with the voyages of those who have preceded 
us marked out for our guidance, showing the hidden rocks 
and quicksands, and “conducting us in safety to the haven 
where we would be.” 
One clinique a week, and that a surgical one, was all we had. 
.Now each department in medicine and surgery, and almost 
every day in the week, has its clinique, and abundant matter 8 
is furnished for the careful study and observation of disease. 
The faculty is well represented in our hospitals, and crowds of 
students follow them in their daily rounds, and at the bed-side 
apply the rules and teachings of the lecture-room. 
Dispensaries, infirmaries, and asylums, multiply on every 
side, the doors of which are thrown wide open to the diligent 
searcher after truth and experience, which is there to be obtain- 
ed under the guidance and direction of earnest workers, whose 
great desire is to impart to others what they themselves have 
dug from the deep mines and blasted from the hard quarries 
of scientific and practical medicine. 
A generation ago, to practice as a specialist was to rank with 
quacks and nostrum-venders. Now, nearly every organ in the 
bod}?- has its worshippers, who find abundant field for study and 
labor in unrolling its anatomy, exploring its physiology, and 
spying into the pathological changes, actual and possible. 
Medical periodicals—weekly, monthly, and quarterly—have 
multiplied amongst and around about us. The practitioner 
observes more closely his cases, and publishes them more 
frequently, than of old. Thus, by writing and reading (two of 
the three famous democratic r’s), is the general stock of knowl- 
edge increased, and all made better and wiser physicians. 
I am sorry to be obliged to acknowledge that quackery has 
held its own during the years that have added so much to our 
noble art. As have increased the medical periodicals, so have 
multiplied the daily papers. Men and women are no less 
human now than of yore. The advertising columns, which are 
open to all who pay, teem with notices of balsams, balms, and 
cordials; pills, potions, and pomades; all of which are eagerly 
purchased and applied; the proceeds greatly enriching Hallo- 
ways, Helmbolds, and Humbugs. 
It is said that the newest popular maps of the United States, 
now sold in China, “divide our country into two sections, as 
the Buchu and the Bitters drinkers.” 
In this connection I would state that the graduates from this 9 
College have, with very few exceptions, followed the narrow 
and rugged path which alone leads to true professional dignity. 
Some have been sorely tempted, and have left the direct road, 
seeking shorter cuts, which have led them wandering and 
groping through the mazes of various pathies, only to end in 
regret and disappointment. Let us not forget the days of out 
youth, and as these wanderers return, let us welcome them 
home again. 
In our time, great advances have been made in surgery. 
The problem which so long puzzled the profession, how to 
make extension so as not to inflict serious injury to the soft 
parts, was at length solved by a New Hampshire surgeon, who 
taught us “ how to do it” by the simple use of adhesive plas- 
ter. The knowledge soon travelled far and wide over the 
country, and as a consequence many a man this day walks 
erect and free from pain or blemish, who, except for this simple 
contrivance, would limp and stumble along the road with 
shortened limb and aching cicatrices. 
When we began practice the treatment of even simple fracture 
of the thigh bone was a serious matter to the surgeon, and a 
source of great discomfort if not of actual danger to the patient. 
With the old appliances of long splints, splint cloths, pads, 
bandages, patent boots, and other contrivances for relieving 
bony prominences from pressure, and diminishing torture, tor- 
ture was only made a little more endurable, and shortening of 
the limb from an inch to an inch and a half was the rule, the 
exceptions to which were rare and could be counted on the 
fingers of one hand by any surgeon in large practice. 
Now how changed. With adhesive plaster and elastic ex- 
tension by the weight and pully, as first introduced at the New 
York Hospital, and to the profession at large, by one of our 
own graduates, Dr. Gurdon Buck, the patient tastes not the 
horrors of a middle passage, but is carried, by easy stages, from 
the first pain of a shortened limb, over-lapping bone, and 
wounded muscles, with no absolute decubitus, as though glued 10 
to the bed, to complete recovery, with unabraded integument, 
a sound heel, and a limb, if not absolutely the length of its 
fellow, so near it that the accurately graduated tape-measure 
scarcely discovers the difference. 
One would suppose that results such as these, so frequently 
observed and recorded, would challenge the attention of sur- 
geons abroad. Here, however, is a rare instance of honor 
awarded to a prophet in his own country, and his teachings 
disregarded in other lands. 
It has been with the utmost difficulty that young and enthu- 
siastic American surgeons, travelling abroad, could secure atten- 
tion to this method of treatment, or obtain the opportunity to 
apply it. Even when applied it has been, by the majority, 
treated as a Yankee invention, and given the go-by. So prone 
are we to look with disfavor on another’s offspring. 
The use of plaster-of-paris in the treatment of fractures— 
simple and compound—has given us a neat, firm, and durable 
dressing, which the surgeon of to-day would be loath to ex- 
change for the cumbersome and awkward splints of the olden 
time. 
During my student life, and in my early experience as an 
hospital interne, all operations were done without any, save the 
most inefficient and bungling, efforts to prevent pain. The 
patient was bound like a malefactor for the trial by “question.” 
The glistening blade went keenly through integument and 
muscle, and the saw crashing through the bone. The actual 
and potential cautery was presented to his notice in all its 
naked deformity, wearing not even a mask to hide its ugliness. 
All discussion, as the operation proceeded, was poured into his 
unwilling but listening ear, until, between pain and terror, he 
was little better than a maniac, screaming and struggling in the 
hands of the inquisitors. 
It is readily seen that the effect of all this was not especially 
soothing to the nerves of the surgeon; and brave and strong 
indeed must have been the man who, under such circumstances, 11 
and with such surroundings, could with clear eye and steady 
hand course with the keen-edged knife along the margin of 
dangerous regions, exposing, but not injuring, vessels which 
carried the current of the patient’s life, or nerves which gave 
sensation and motion. 
Behold in these times the mighty difference. The power 
of producing absolute insensibility to pain, by the inhalation 
of a subtile vapor, is discovered—undoubtedly the greatest 
boon conferred during the past century, by our profession, on 
suffering humanity. 
I was present and assisted in its administration, for the first 
time in this city, to a patient in the New York Hospital, and I 
well remember the exquisite satisfaction I experienced when 
he fell into a quiet sleep, as did Adam in the garden, and sub- 
mitted, without a murmur, to a painful operation (not, by the 
way, the removal of a rib), awakened to consciousness, and 
could hardly be convinced that the knife had scarred him. 
I then saw before me, instead of darkness, thunderings and 
tempest, “ green fields and pastures new,” in which I have 
wandered ever since, feeling that I carry, corked in a vial, the 
spirit which controls pain; that limbs can be lopped off, and 
children born, without suffering; the only cry, if any, being 
“more, doctor, more!” 
The silver suture, introduced by Dr. Sims, who is a son of 
New York by adoption, has revolutionized the whole practice 
of surgery, as applied to the lesions accompanying parturition. 
In olden times the rule was, that woman, once the subject of 
vessico-vaginal fistula, always remained a-sufferer, and went to 
her grave with the bitter experience that children are born in 
sorrow. Occasionally, a master-hand and indomitable perse, 
verance succeeded in healing this lesion. Now, as a result of 
his labors, investigations, and experience, assisted by others 
who have been stimulated by his example, any good practitioner 
of surgery is confident that he can attack a fistula with the 
certain assurance of a perfect cure. Out of this practice has 12 
grown the Woman's Hospital, one of the noblest charities of 
our truly charitable city. An institution which, under the 
surgical charge of Dr. Emmet and able colleagues, is doing a 
good work for wounded and suffering woman. 
Time would fail me to speak of the ophthalmoscope, the 
endoscope, and the laryngoscope, which enable us to peer into 
passages and cavities before unexplored, save by the knife of 
the anatomist, and reveal to our gaze lesions and changes before 
this only suspected; of acupressure—a ready and certain 
method of controlling hemorrhage—second only, if indeed 
second at all, to the ligature; of the hypodermic use of reme- 
dies, when a few drops, introduced beneath the skin, remove 
the sting from pain, or cause quotidian and tertian to vanish. 
These, and a hundred others, throng upon me; but I must 
pass on. 
A thought suggests itself, which, with your permission, I 
will dwell upon for a few moments. 
All now within the sound of my voice have doubtless 
gloried in the name and record of the New York Hospital, 
chartered in the reign of King George III. July 13th, 1771. 
The corner-stone was laid in 1773, but the building, when 
almost completed, was nearly destroyed by tire, February 28th, 
1775. During the war of independence it was used for bar- 
racks, and was not in a condition to be opened as a hospital 
until January 3d, 1791. From time to time new buildings 
were erected upon the grounds, and the original building, 
known as the “main house,” was enlarged and improved. The 
elms, planted a century ago, flourished apace, shaded its grand 
old front, and gladdened the eye of every passer in the Broad- 
way throng, be he bent on business or pleasure. Within its 
walls, Wright Post, J. Kearney Rodgers, Valentine Mott, and 
Alexander IJ. Stevens, achieved those surgical triumphs which 
made the New York Hospital famous the world over, and 
sowed seed which ripened into fruit worthy of them. 
I will venture to say that no institution in this country has 13 
turned out as many able men, or afforded to our profession as 
much noble teaching and healthful stimulus to labor for the 
common good. 
Where, alas, is she now ! Gone—forever gone from the old 
familiar spot. The noble elms, planted by our wise fathers 
with the fond hope that they would yield only to disease and 
decay, incident alike to man and tree, are levelled in the dust, 
and, with grief and shame be it spoken, no skilful woodman 
officiated at the sacrifice, but they fell before repeated and 
bungling blows from the dull ax of the rude navvy. The 
gentle eminence on which she sat so proudly, has disappeared 
before the shovel of the inevitable contractor. Streets have 
been cut through her ample and pleasant grounds. Marble 
warehouses, in long and tiresome rows, have risen as if by 
magic. Trade and commerce now sit enthroned on the spot 
which all had hoped was forever consecrated to charity and 
good works. 
Why this change ? Let us examine the record. The gov- 
ernors of the Hospital, in their annual report to the Legislature 
for 1869, state that poverty was the cause. I will quote their 
own words: “ The annual State appropriations had ceased; 
donations and bequests were always uncertain, and had been 
rendered still more so by a general conviction of that portion 
of the community sympathizing with the humane objects of 
the Hospital, that the valuable land occupied by the Hospital 
buildings should be made to yield income for the support of 
the Hospital in some other location,” etc., etc. They say “that 
the proceedings of the board of governors for the last ten 
years will show that the absorbing theme of discussion and 
investigation has been to devise means for the permanent 
increase of revenue, in order to extend the benefits of the 
Hospital to a larger number of the sick and injured; and that 
the leasing of the lands on Broadway, Worth, Church, and 
Duane streets, was finally adopted, with reluctance, as the only 
means adequate to solve the problem. To have continued even 14 
the restricted operations of the Hospital, in the face of accumu- 
lating indebtedness and increasing demand for gratuitous hos- 
pital treatment, with no ascertained or probable source of addi- 
tional annual income, would have subjected this board to the 
well-merited censure of your honorable body and this com- 
munity. Such are the circumstances and motives which con- 
trolled the action of the board of governors in respect to the 
old Hospital grounds, and in the light of these facts they are 
willing to be judged. 
“ The board are sensible of the heavy responsibility that 
rests upon them to administer their trust judiciously, liber- 
ally, and economically, and are confident that their next annual 
report will make manifest that their sympathies and energy 
have been successfully devoted to perpetuating and extending 
the usefulness of the important charity under their charge.” 
After such a declaration, you would very naturally expect 
that, having leased the grounds and thus secured the “ addi- 
tional annual income,” the board of governors, who for ten 
years past have been absorbed in the discussion as to how the 
benefits of the Hospital could be extended to a larger number 
of the sick and injured, would be up and doing, and that long 
ere this something worthy of them and the trust they hold 
would have been at least commenced. 
Listen to a plain statement of facts: 
The medical board have, from the first, watched the progress 
of affairs with great anxiety; have protested against even 
the temporary suspension of the institution. We have urged 
upon the governors the necessity for prompt action; have 
diligently labored to find eligible pieces of property, which 
might be obtained; have found such a location, which can be 
had, and which is very desirable, situated as it is on the west 
side of the town, far removed from any other hospital, and 
accessible to a district which would furnish ample material to 
fill its wards. A committee from the board of governors was 
appointed to examine into the matter. The committee was 15 
made up of a few men in the board who are for progress, and 
they reported favorably. The board, however, by a large ma- 
jority, dismissed the subject, and in opposition to the report of 
their own committee and our individual and united pleadings 
as a medical board, adhere to their original intention. What 
think you is that intention? Listen, while I tell it you. 
Years ago, when there was no provision in this city for the 
care of lunatics, except the cold charity of the alms-house, the 
New York Hospital spread its sheltering wing over that unfor- 
tunate class, and erected a building upon their grounds where 
they could be cared for. In time, as the wants of the Hospital 
for the sick and maimed increased, and more room was needed, 
land was secured at Bloomingdale, buildings erected, and the 
asylum removed to that location, the building formerly used 
for lunatics being converted into a hospital proper, and devoted 
to the accommodation of sick and injured seaman, for whose 
support the State paid a certain sum per head. 
The property at Bloonqlngdale, fronting as it does upon one 
of the new boulevards, is now immensely valuable, and the 
board have determined to remove the asylum to White Plains, 
or some other place, and to this they intend to devote all their 
energies and means. 
Years hence—for we all know how slowly all such projects 
are accomplished—when the new asylum shall be completed, 
they propose to allow the Hospital again to come into being, 
and occupy the buildings then vacated at Bloomingdale, far, 
far away from wharves, factories, railroad stations, and a dense 
population. In the meantime the Hospital sleeps—is dead. 
The absolute need of a new asylum is doubted by very 
many. Since the early days of its usefulness great changes 
have come to pass. The State has provided, and is still engaged 
in increasing her provision, for lunatics; and private enterprise 
and charity is actively at work, here and all over the State, 
multiplying asylums. 
By what right, except that of might, do the governors bury 16 
the Hospital, virtually ignore its usefulness, and devote their 
funds to buildings and grounds of questionable utility? 
Who were the founders of the New York Hospital? By 
whose influence was the charter obtained, and the funds chiefly 
raised? In fact, who made the New York Hospital what it 
was from the beginning to the time when it lay gasping, dying, 
in Duane street, now more than a year ago? Doctors! 
Its charter was granted by George III, by the grace of God, 
of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the 
Faith, who “ sent greeting to his loving subjects Peter Middle- 
ton, Samuel Bard, and John Jones, physicians, by their humble 
petition presented unto our trusty and well-beloved Cadwallader 
Colden, Esq., Lieut.-Gov., &c.” 
Through the exertions of Dr. John Fothergill and Sir William 
Johnson, names eminent in our profession, considerable contri- 
butions were obtained in Great Britain. It was instituted for 
the benefit of the respectable sick poor of the city of New York, 
a class too intelligent and not poor enough to be absolute pau- 
pers. Let its records show how it has been esteemed by that 
class, and also the good it has wrought among them. 
Nothing is said in the original charter about a lunatic asylum. 
A hospital for the treatment of disease and surgical accidents 
was established and intended to be perpetual, the first if not 
the only care of the governors. 
One great cause of the departure from the straight path of 
duty and responsibility, seems to me to lie in the fact that the 
profession has no representation in the board of governors. I 
do not believe that the management of the affairs of any hos- 
pital can reach the highest point of excellence except its med- 
ical board constitutes a part of its board of governors. Let it 
be a minority if you please, but still a minority so respectable 
in numbers as to command attention and secure a fair hearing 
of what they have to say on all questions in which they from 
their training and experience have the ripest knowledge. 
There seems to be in the minds of all governing boards of 17 
hospitals, in this community at least, a certain jealousy of the 
medical men connected with them. We are treated, to be sure, 
with a certain sort of respect, and our opinions are formally 
asked, but except in clear cases of life and death, how often are 
they accepted ? The opinion of an architect on the subject of 
ventilation and the number of cubic feet of fresh air required by 
a patient, is preferred to ours; and a hireling steward is fre- 
quently considered a better judge of fitting food for an invalid. 
To what degree this feeling is sometimes carried I will illus- 
trate. A certain old-time and influential governor of one of 
our hospitals was applied to for aid and counsel in establishing 
a hospital in the neighboring city of Brooklyn. He gave freely 
from the stores of his ripe experience, and closed with the fol- 
lowing injunction: “ Whatever you do, be sure to keep your 
foot on the necks of the doctors.” 
This should not be so. The medical man who devotes his 
energies to developing the greatest amount of good to the suf- 
ferers within the hospital wards, and who does this without 
reward of any kind, except what comes from a good conscience 
and the sense of duty done, is certainly entitled to a voice in 
the management of the institution with which be is connected, 
and the laymen associated with him would find him at all times 
an able and earnest coadjutor. 
I have heard that it has been said by some who are responsi- 
ble for the fate of the New York Hospital, a that the doctors 
are only in a hurry for its reconstruction that they may have a 
field for teaching, and thereby glorify themselves.” If this were 
true (all but the glorifying), why should it not be so ? 
It was the intention of the original founders that the Hospital 
should be used as a school in the highest sense of the term; 
where the student should see disease and accident treated 
under the most favorable circumstances, and in the best man- 
ner known to science. How else are doctors to be made at 
all fitted to practice their noble art ? To whom, think you, 
would one of these objectors first apply, were he sick or sore? 18 
To the man fresh from two courses of lectures, or to one with 
mind well stored and memory filled with daily hospital 
experiences ? 
While the governors stand on the bank of the stream, hesi- 
tating whether to venture in or not, I very much fear that the 
“ powers that be ” may bring the whole matter before the legis- 
lature, and on the ground that the trust has not been properly 
administered, attempt to get the matter into their own hands. 
As the real estate now held by the board is so valuable, com- 
puted as it is by millions of dollars, I shall be much surprised 
if the “ ring ” do not attempt to step in and dispense. 
Now the profession acting in concert are strong, and can 
accomplish much, either socially or politically. What I would 
propose, is that each one of us examine into the merits of this 
subject, and use all his influence to secure the immediate 
rehabilitation of that Hospital of whose record in the past we 
are all so proud. 
Since we started in the race, many of our fellows who ran 
beside us have fallen by the way. Some, stricken down sud- 
denly, have gone with harness on; others, their vital forces 
gradually sapped, have lingered and suffered. One who was 
dear to me in my student life entered the navy, and in the ser- 
vice of his country and of science made his first voyage in 
company with the lamented Kane, away off amid the ice and 
drear and darkness of the Arctic Sea. Returning thence he 
tarried with us for a time until the order came for China and 
the Indies. During the great war of the rebellion he did loyal 
service on our coast, and at New Orleans and Mobile. Thence 
to the African coast, where he fell a victim to the fever which 
has taken from life so many good and true. His body now 
rests fathoms deep beneath the restless waves of the southern 
Atlantic. Alas, poor Vreeland ! The muse of poetry delights 
to sing of heroes who have died battling for liberty and right. 
Peace has her heroes as well as war, and in no walk or profes- 
sion do they more abound than in ours. 19 
Enthusiasm and the applause of men stimulate the soldier. 
To be brave in battle is the rule, the coward is the exception. 
In our ranks we are opposed, not to an open enemy, but to a 
secret and insidious foe. We have not the applause of thou- 
sands to stimulate and cheer. Pestilence stalks abroad, and 
our lines are thinned and decimated ; as one falls another steps 
into his place and marches bravely on to almost certain death. 
Even on the field of battle the duties of the surgeon differ 
from those of the soldier, and so do his rewards. Well has 
Freilingrath, the greatest of living German poets, expressed 
this in a beautiful lyric addressed to his son, a medical student, 
serving as a surgeon in the ranks of the fatherland : 
“ Well wouldst thou in the contest 
Strike home for Fatherland; 
The Frenchman’s ranks thou frontest— 
Yet not with sword in hand. 
Upon the field thou servest, 
Yet not in deadly strife; 
Thy hero-hand thou nervest 
To save, not sever life ! 
“ Thy heart so warmly glowing 
Impelled thee to the Rhine: 
Thy arm the red-cross showing 
Within the German line. 
Thou step’st among the stricken 
Upon the field of gore, 
The dying life to quicken, 
The wounded to restore. 
“ The fevered brow thou soothest 
With drops of healing balm, 
The wayside pillow smoothest 
When comes the deadly qualm. 
The dying prayer thou hearest 
Upon the night-wind swoon, 
In dying faces peerest 
Beneath the autumn moon. 20 
“ Then still through dead and dying 
Thy faithful course pursue, 
And keep the red-cross flying 
Within each warrior’s view. 
Ne’er from thy pathway swerving, 
Friends, foes, alike to shield— 
Thy curse for him reserving 
Who forced us to the field. 
“ Farewell, my boy! God’s favor 
Attend thee to thy close; 
Nor let thy love-task waver— 
My blessing with thee goes. 
And if we ne’er behold thee 
In Deutschland’s conquering van, 
In fond embrace we’ll fold thee, 
A boy no more—a man! ” 
Our Alma Mater, in honor of her heroes, has inscribed many 
names on yonder tablet, and testifies to her appreciation of their 
worth in the language of the Roman matron, “ Haec mea orna- 
menta sunt.” 
When the trump shall sound, calling men to their last ac- 
count, many such will come from the north and the south, 
from the east and the west, and from the isles of the sea, to 
receive their reward for deeds done here in the flesh, but known 
only to him who knoweth all things. 
Let us take heed that we place not too high an estimate on 
our individual importance. The best of us—one or a 
may be taken away, and except by a few near and dear friends 
we are hardly missed. “ Man may come and man may go,” but 
the true earnest work of the world “flows on forever.” 
As death is so certain to come to us all, and to many of us 
so unexpectedly, it is fitting not only that we ourselves should 
be prepared for it, but that we should not leave those depend- 
ing upon us to the cold charity of the world. “ He who 
provides not for his own household is worse than an infidel.” 21 
Henry Olay once remarked that “ it was the fate of profes- 
sional men in this country to work hard, live high, and die 
poor.” The truth of this saying is, alas, too often proven in 
our profession. Hard work, it is not desirable to avoid ; it does 
not kill, it only ripens and mellows us. High living, why that 
depends upon what you call high. Generous living, provided 
always it be within our means, hurts nobody; in fact we are 
required to live as do those among whom we practice, and with 
whom we associate. Must we die poor? Not of necessity. 
In these days of Life Insurance Companies, “ Societies for the 
Relief of Widows and Orphans of Medical Men,” “ Physicians’ 
Mutual Aid Societies,” etc., every man is to blame if he does 
not provide for the maintenance and comfort of those he leaves 
behind him. “ Make hay while the sun shines.” No one 
should allow himself to live as though clouds and storms might 
never come. In the day of his prosperity let him put by some- 
thing every year, and if this be done dilligently he will be sur- 
prised to see how certain will be his reward. 
It is a curious fact that this mother of ours, though so 
fecund, should never in all these years have given birth to a 
girl; sons many, daughters none. This seems to have been the 
rule with all “ her kin ” until of late years. We now occasion- 
ally hear of the birth of daughters in medicine; and it is worthy 
of note that those mothers who bear them seem to have what is 
called “a hard time,” and some abroad have been in danger of 
their lives during gestation. In these advanced days of 
woman’s rights, woman’s suffrage, etc., our mother, influenced 
by surroundings, may tbe suddenly seized with “a longing,” 
and have daughters. If so, let us boys treat them with respect 
and kindness, never forgetting our manhood. 
In confidence I will state to you that our mother’s health 
has never been better than at the present time. A consulta- 
tion of physicians pronounce her sound and strong, and, 
barring accidents, sure of a long life in the future. It is our 
bounden duty as good sons to guard > her from accident, and 22 
to cheer and sustain her, that her old age may be green and 
fruitful. 
In the strife between rivals, let her sons always be generous; 
let their aim be to secure for her such aid and counsel as shall 
keep her in the front rank, so that her “ stature be not measured 
by the lengthening shadow of her sun making haste to its 
setting.”