MEMOIR 
OF 
JAMES AIT KEN MEIGS, A.M, M.D., 
PROFESSOR OF THE INSTITUTES OF MEDICINE ANI) MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE 
IN JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE. PHILADELPHIA. 
BY 
LAURENCE TURNBULL. M.I). 
“ To mortals life, as Horace sang, gm!*> 
Without great labor. Learn this lesson, fraught 
With vast results, and never learned too soon, 
Leant and practice, it will prove a boon.”—Meigs. 
•• The physician should diligently strive to elevate his profession and thus lead the 
public to respect and honor him.’' 
PHILADELPHIA : 
PUGH MADEIRA, 115 SOUTH TENTH STREET. 
1881 COPY OF A LETTER FROM THE FATHER OF DR. MEIGS. 
Philadelphia, August, 5, 1880. 
Dr. L. Turnbull. Dear Sir: — 
Allow me to thank you for your kind consideration in sending me a 
copy of The Medical Bulletin. In glancing over it I discovered what 
you so ably wrote as a memoir of my Son. It was a plain unvarnished 
statement. I could find no fault with it, for you closely related the truth in 
all your statements. I read it with much pleasure. 
Respectfully, yours, 
J. G. MEIGS. PREFACE. 
I x writing this brief and imperfect memoir, I am per- 
forming a labor of love. I was his friend and knew him inti- 
mately for thirty years, having watched his rise to eminence 
in his profession. I was with him under every phase of his 
active life, in the very height of his happiness in attaining 
the goal of his ambition as a professor in his Alma Mater. 
I was also with him in his deep distress and sorrow at the loss 
of his mother, whom he loved with his whole heart, and it 
was a great source of comfort that he could look forward to 
meet that loved one in a brighter sphere where he, no doubt, 
now enjoys her sweet society. My only regret now is, that 
iu the early days of his fatal illness, when his body was free 
from racking pain, and his mind clear, I was on the distant 
sea, unable to perform those little acts of kindness which are 
so precious to those we love, especially when on a bed of 
sickness. tually a pecuniary success to the indi- 
vidual. His copper works were situated 
on the Delaware River, in the neighbor- 
hood of Chester. Mrs. Meigs had four 
children, two died in infancy, and a 
daughter, who had attained tlie age of 
ten years, was attacked with malignant 
scarlet fever, which unfortunately 
proved fatal after a lingering illness. 
The long continued and devoted nur- 
sing of the daughter, and the imbibing 
of a portion of the disease affected Mrs. 
Meigs's throat, fatally impaired her 
health and made her an invalid for life. 
Having but one child left, her whole ma- 
ternal love was centered in him, and he 
became her constant companion and 
friend, they taking sweet counsel to- 
gether. This entire devotion of his mo- 
ther never injured the son, as she was a 
woman of remarkable judgment and 
good common sense, well educated, with 
gi*eat natural softness and refinement of 
character, and a very high sense of jus- 
tice and truth. 
The sentiment which he held for his 
mother is well expressed by Paul De 
Remusat,* in the love which his father 
felt for his mother, Madame De Remu- 
sat, which he states as follows: “ His 
love for his mother had been the ‘ grand 
passion’ of his life. To her he ascribed 
all the happiness of his youth, every 
merit which he possessed, and all the 
success of every kind that had come to 
him throughout his whole existence. 
He derived from her his qualities alike 
of heart and mind; lie was bound to her 
by the tie of close similarity of ideas, as 
well as that of filial affection. Her 
memory, her letters, her thoughts, occu- 
pied a place in his life which few sus- 
pected, for he seldom spoke of her, pre- 
cisely because he was always thinking 
of her, and he would have feared imper- 
fect sympathy from others in his admi- 
ration of her who was incomparable in 
his eyes.” 
MEMOIR. 
The subject of our memoir, James 
Aitken Meigs, was born in the city of 
Philadelphia, July 31,1829, in the eastern 
and built-up portion of the city, but 
while yet a boy of ten was removed to 
South Fifteenth Street, which was then 
almost open country, where he developed 
into a robust, healthy lad. «Tolin G. 
Meigs, the father of our friend, was also 
born in the city of Philadelphia, but his 
youth was spent with relatives on a 
farm in Montgomery County; he sub- 
sequently left the country and came 
again to the city and devoted himself 
to mechanical pursuits, in which he was 
very successful. The Doctor’s mother’s 
name was Aitken ; she also was born in 
Philadelphia. Her father was John 
Aitken, a Scotchman, born in Edin- 
burgh, while her mother was of German 
origin; the latter was attached to the 
German Catholic Church, which still 
stands at the northwest corner of Sxith 
and Spruce. Her husband for a con- 
siderabletime attended the same church, 
and was very generous, presenting it 
with all the silver ornaments for the 
altar, and was one of the founders of the 
Orphan Asylum. Mr. Aitken was a 
silversmith, and resided on Second Street 
for many years. Mrs. Meigs’s father 
was a true patriot, not only did lie dis- 
play this in words, but also in noble 
deeds, for when the dispirited and shoe- 
less troops under the illustrious Wash- 
ington were passing through Philadel- 
phia, on the march to Yalley Forge, 
during the Revolutionary war, he com- 
miserated them, and out of his private 
purse spent five hundred dollars in pro- 
viding them with covering for their 
bleeding feet. 
John Aitken was an ingenious me- 
chanic, and covered with copper the 
first, vessel in the United States; this 
was accomplished for the government, 
and was entirely successful in its me- 
chanical execution, but was not even- 
* Memoirs of Madame De Kemusat, 1802-1808. 
Edited, with a preface andnot.es. by her grandson. 
Translated by Mrs. Hoey and John Lellee, and 
published by Harper & Brothers. New York, 1880. Mrs. Meigs was an Episcopalian and a 
member of ChristChureh, her father hav- 
ing left the German Church and united 
with this church ; he was buried in Christ 
Church graveyard. Mr. Meigs’s children 
were christened in Christ Church, and 
when James came to be of proper age to 
recognize the vows his parents had taken 
upon them for him, he of his own will and 
consent took them upon himself, and 
was confirmed by Rev. Dr. Dorr, attend- 
ing the Sunday-school of that church. 
His early education was from his mother, 
and he subsequently went to a private 
school, taught by John Evans, on Dean 
Street, of whom he always spoke in 
terms of warm esteem. James suffered 
for a long time from an explosion of 
gunpowder, havinghad his thumb blown 
entirely off, and at one time it was 
doubtful if the hand could be saved, but 
his healthy constitution stood him in 
his day of need. After finishing at the 
school of Mr. Evans, he was fitted to 
enter the Mt. Vernon School. This 
was in 1843, and after remaining in 
the grammar school the requisite time, 
and being found fully prepared, he was 
transferred to the Central High School, 
where having passed with credit he was 
received as a pupil. 
In this new field of severe mental labor 
he acquitted himself so well as to receive 
the warm encomiums of the entire board 
of professors, but more especially those 
of Profs. Edw. Vodges and McMurtrie, 
with the latter of whom he formed a 
very warm friendship, and to whose 
branch, physiology, lie gave most careful 
study. 11 was the first taste of the fruits 
of this devotion that no doubt gave a 
bent to his inclination to study medi- 
cine, and also led him to give his mind 
to the branch of physiology. 
He graduated in February, 1848, from 
the Central High School, and he was se- 
lected to deliver the valedictory address 
which was in part in poetic measure, and 
was considered highly creditable to the 
young aspirant for fame. 
After graduation liis father told him 
he must decide what he was to adopt as 
a means of livelihood, as he could not 
afford to keep him in idleness, and he 
gave him a holiday trip, and on his re- 
turn he was to choose for himself. In 
the mean time James had met the late 
Prof. Chas. D. Meigs and had a long con- 
versation with him on the subject, and 
he advised him to study medicine. 
Soon after his father received a note from 
Prof. Meigs who desired to see him. Mr. 
Meigs called upon him, and the Professor 
stated that he had examined his son and 
had advised him to let him study medi- 
cine, was well pleased with him, and 
he believed he would be a great man, 
yet he declined, however, to receive 
him as a private pupil, but gave him a 
letter of introduction to Dr. F. G. Smith, 
in which he wrote most kindly of the 
young man, and ever after took a lively 
interest in his success, although no re- 
lationship existed between them. 
Dr. Smith at that time was associated 
with Dr. J. M. Allen in receiving private 
students, and what is termed quizzing 
them—preparing young men for gradua- 
tion. Dr. Smith was afterwards the 
Prof, of Physiology in the Franklin and 
Pennsylvania Colleges, and also in the 
University of Pennsylvania, and was a 
most capable lecturer and teacher. In 
Dr. Allen also he had the benefit of able 
lectures and demonstrations in anatomy. 
Mr. Meigs’s father desired him to be fully 
prepared, and to study not less than 
three full years before graduating, and 
he stated to them that if after one year’s 
study they found him not fitted he was 
not to go on; he even set two friends to 
watch his progress, and report to him 
direct, but the report was so satisfactory 
that he went on with flying colors. It 
is right and proper that due honor and 
credit should be given to public teach- 
ers and private instructors, but the 
best of them may plant and water most 
assiduously, but it is the combined 
efforts of the pupil that brings forth the ripe fruit in its season, and these were 
not wanting in our friend. 
In October, 1848, he matriculated at 
Jefferson Medical College, and even 
while yet a student did the work most 
creditably of a full fledged physician, by 
taking notes of the clinical lectures and 
debates of the Philadelphia County 
Medical Society, and tli us became known 
to the physicians who attended these 
meetings, and with many of them formed 
very warm friendships. In March, 1851, 
he graduated in medicine, receiving not 
only the degree of doctor of medicine 
from Jefferson Medical College, but also 
a certificate from the corps of lecturers 
of the Philadelphia Medical Association 
for summer instruction, as having pass- 
ed successfully the examination upon 
the lectures delivered. The subject of 
his Thesis was “ The Hygiene and The- 
rapeutics of Temperament,” a physio- 
logical subject, and was very creditably 
handled by one so young. 
He began practice in his native city 
at No. 597 Lombard Street (old number) 
now 1531 Lombard Street. He subse- 
quently removed to No. 423 South Broad 
Street, and later to No. 1408 Spruce St. 
While, as yet, not actively engaged in 
practice he did not loiter his time away 
on the stretts or club houses, nor in his 
office waiting for practice, but his leisure 
time was given to study at the College 
of Physicians or the Academy of Natural 
Sciences, then on Broad Street, where 
he could be readily found, either writing 
or studying his favorite subject, eth- 
nology, the Doctor having all the time 
in view the improving of his knowledge of 
physiology and the fitting of himself for 
a higher position. These careful and con- 
scientious habits, with a pleasant and 
agreeable voice and strict devoted atten- 
tion to his patients, soon won their good 
efforts on his behalf, and told by in- 
creasing practice. He was able to per- 
form it ail on foot attending all his 
cases, and yet, during this t ime lie edited 
for many n umbers the Medical Examiner, 
also the Louisville Medical Pcview. and 
! acted as quiz master for and assistant 
j to his former teacher, Prof. P. (i. 
Smith, in preparing his lectures on 
physiology, and in editing the first Ame- 
rican edition of Carpenter's work on the 
Microscope, and subsequently Neill 
j and Smith’s Compend.” and later 
! Kirk’s Manual of Physiology. In 1858 
he delivered the semi-annual address 
before the Alumni Association of the 
Central High School, having taken the 
place of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who 
had to disappoint at the last moment. 
The Doctor had but little time to prepare, 
yet, as may be seen from his address, it 
was replete with good resolves, showing 
careful reading and study, and con- 
sidered worthy of publication by such 
men as Rev. Gf. L. Platt, II. McMurtrie, 
M.D., FrancisWest,M.D., S. L. Metcalf, 
John Cassin, Morton McMichael, and 
Charles E. Lex, Esqrs., and others. 
ALUMNI ADDRESS. 
Mr. President, and Gentlemen of the 
Alumni Association. 
Ont unresting planet lias measured 
half its orbit since we last greeted each 
other face to face. The day-god has 
breathed beneficently all over the land, 
and the prolific earth yielded up rich in- 
I crease, as of yore. The brown places 
; have become green. Skeleton trees no 
longer chide the northern blast, but 
j chant paeans of praise with their leafy 
1 tongues. Naked and sullen rocks have 
j been won to laughter by the mossy gifts 
of summer. Mighty rivers have broken 
| their icy chains, and are hastening with 
| joy, on their fertilizing errands. The 
I invisible spirit of air has been gather- 
ing moisture from the bosom of the 
great deep, and scattering it, with lav- 
ish hand, broadcast over the thirsty soil. 
Sleeping life shut up in seed, and root, 
and branch, has been waked to renewed 
activity by the sunbeam’s magic touch, 
and |the glad vegetation, struggling 
through the moist ground, decks itself 
in all-gorgeous hues, and leaps up, an art- 
less virgin, to the passionate embrace of 
the glowing sun. 
Day and his glories have been alter- 
nating with night and her quiet stars. 
Day after day has the sun repeated his 
resplendent march, calling men to their 
accustomed toils; night after night has 
the ghostly moon, from the “still tem- 7 
pie of the solemn heavens,” been shim- 
mering over city and forest, land and 
sea—on the polar iceberg, on the tropi- 
cal palm. 
Thus much nature, from whose peace- 
ful soul the silent anthem of joy and 
happiness ever ascends. 
How has it been with man and his 
interests ? 
Nations have been stricken in the 
bloom of their prosperity. Trade lan- 
guishes therefrom, blighted by the fever- 
heat of contention; while the silken 
cords, with which commerce was bind- 
ing 'the world into one harmonious 
whole, have been strained almost to 
bursting by the rude hand of a despotic 
ambition which knows no limiting power 
but the sword. Liberty-engendering 
civilization has been forced to turn aside 
from her ameliorating path, to oppose 
new ramparts against the barbaric sea 
with which her Muscovite enemy threat- 
ens to engulf her. Battles have been 
fought, and blood poured out, as a steam- 
ing libation to the insulted spirit of 
freedom. Men in the country have 
ploughed and sowed, and gathered in 
the fruits of the earth; men in crowded, 
tired cities, have delved and planted in 
the teeming field of society, each reap- 
ing an especial result , after his own es- 
pecial fashion and desire. The mer- 
chant’s counting-house and the work- 
shop of the mechanic have known no 
rest. The votary of science and the 
student of high art, have alike blanched 
over the midnight toil. The astrono- 
mer, from his lonely tower, has given 
to the world new views and grander 
conceptions of the star-gemmed hea- 
vens; while the geologist, the man of 
stony argument, has, with deathless en- 
ergy, been gathering in the mysterious 
depths of the “great globe itself,” the 
fragmentary details, from which has 
yet to be constructed the history of the 
dim eternal Past. In endless modes 
has science been tortured to reveal the 
mysteries of nature and of being. The 
arts, too, with unstinting hand, have 
given to society instruments of good 
and instruments of evil, life-prolonging 
conveniences and death-dealing agents. 
Determined men of the temperate 
zone are invading the ice-bound homes 
of an hyperborean people, in search of 
their long-lost fellows. Others, to en- 
large the bounds of geographical knowl- 
edge, have been opposing health and life 
against fever and death, from time im- 
memorial fell guardians of the unknown 
African land. 
Did my feeble powers permit, I would 
on the instant cause to appear before 
you, as in the magic glass of an Agrippa, 
a grand panoramic view of the intellect- 
ual and moral development of the world, 
that you might clearly trace therein 
what the scholar, that thoughtful priest 
of truth, hath done for man. How he hath 
labored, and prayed, and suffered for 
him; how he hath brought him out of 
the darkness of ignorance into the noon- 
day light of knowledge. How he hath 
given him letters, arts, and science, and 
taught him self-reliance and self-com- 
mand. How he hath instructed him in 
the past, that he might be prepared for 
the future. How he hath conquered 
nature, and shown incontestably that 
the world was made for man, and not 
man for the world. How he hath shown 
his “proper being, his truest self, the 
man in the man,”* the man as he ex- 
isted in the divine mind, long ere the 
earth was formed, and the firmanent 
with its chilliads of stars. How he hath 
taught him to reason upon himself as 
God made him, and not as he has been 
disguised and perverted by the tyranny 
of circumstance. 
“That all-pervading atmosphere, wherein 
Our spirits, like the unsteady lizard, take 
The tints that color, and the food that nurtures.’'f 
How, in short, he hath unsealed his 
eyes, and opening before him the sub- 
lime volume of nature, pointed out to 
him the wonderful things of the “ heav- 
ens, and the earth, and the waters under 
the earth,” “that the invisible things 
of the Almighty might be understood by 
the things that are made,—even his eter- 
nal power and Godhead.” 
Briefly I essay the picture, trusting 
more to your thoughtful imaginations 
for success, than to my humble words. 
Come back with me into the dim 
twilight of time, and guided by the torch 
of the palaeontologist, let us survey the 
aspect of organized nature, as it then 
may have appeared. Dense forests of 
palms bend under a primeval wind; gi- 
gantic arundinacese and marsh-plants 
skirt the majestic river, in whose bed 
stalks the strange river-horse—Behe- 
moth, with jaws of brass and bones of 
iron—while on the banks huge pachy- 
derms and saurians bask and flounder 
out their term of life. Hyenas glare 
from the tangled thickets, and the heavy 
tramp of the stately elephant and the 
unwieldy rhinoceros disturb the sultry 
* Coleridge, Aids to Reflection, Aph. IX. 
f Bulwer, Richelieu, or the Conspiracy. 8 
quiet of the noon. But see ! adown the 
slopes of yonder mountain a man ap- 
proaches. He is naked and a barbarian. 
Armed with a club only, or a flint-knife 
perhaps, he stands in constant dread of 
the brute creation around. He is very 
timid, weak, and helpless; hiding in 
caves and clefts of the rock, mayhap, 
and subsisting upon the spontaneous 
fruits of the earth. As yet unconscious 
of the possession of intellect, and there- 
fore unaware of the power with which 
that intellect is associated, he witnesses 
with superstitious awe the fierce storm 
and the sharp lightning, the loud thun- 
der, and the drenching rain. The mea- 
sureof hisexistence is made up of eating, 
sleeping, bathing in the river, climbing 
trees, and sauntering through the long 
summer day in quiet, shady dells, secure 
from his brute enemies. The circle of 
his thriftless life is purely sensuous; 
beyond its bounds his obscure mind can 
travel not. 
Thousands of years have since lapsed 
over the earth and the man, bringing 
manifold change. The scholar has been 
busy. He sought out the rude child of 
nature, and made haste to civilize and 
so disenthrall him from the yoke of the 
senses. The mental train was tired by a 
celestial flame. In the light of its scin- 
tillate ns, the progressive development 
of our race has been accomplished. 
At what precise time in the night of 
human history, the evolution of man’s 
dormant faculties began, we may per- 
haps never determine. This much, at 
all e vents, we know—that five thousand 
years ago, this evolution had merged 
into the colossal civilization of the East; 
a civilization whose high-toned charac- 
ter, power, and wealth, indicated a 
growth of centuries. The proofs of this 
tower up broadly and high in the sacred 
valley of the Nile. Civilization is a 
creation of mind; as the latter varies, 
so does the former. The ages or epochs 
of mind are comparable with the ages 
of nature or material creation. As the 
earlier plants and animals were of gi- 
gantic structure and size, so in remote 
historic periods the developing mind in 
its efforts towards an external realiza- 
tion of thought, assumed a gigantic, 
colossal aspect. The imposing relics of 
the pyramid-constructing, mound-build- 
ing people of the East, and the tropical 
West, are significant emblems of the 
savage grandeur of intellect in its earli- 
est phase of development. Even then, 
the scholar grappled with his task. 
From the plains of Babylonia and Egypt, 
and from the Punalands of the Aztec, 
his restless soul soared up into the blue 
solitudes of space, and held converse 
with the stars. Under the form of the 
primitive legend or myth (such as the 
Mexican),* the astronomical results of 
that flight have been transmitted to us, 
and the scholar of the present day is 
even now giving their proper scientific 
value to these mythological relics.t 
But progressive effort faltered. Man 
was pressed to the earth by the leaden 
hand of a despotic patriarchal centrali- 
zation. The inaction of mental death 
long characterized tlie East. The scholar 
in despair shrunk from his familiar path. 
After a prolonged transitionary period, 
the crisis was at hand. That long-ex- 
pected, long-deferred crisis came at last. 
Oriental society was convulsed through- 
out its length and breadth, and nations 
that had for many years been tottering 
to their fall, were ruthlessly hurled to 
the ground. Amidst the confusion and 
darkness that ensued, the scholar fled 
with the rescued learning of the past, 
and laid it trustingly at the feet of the 
primitive Greek. You all know the re- 
sult. You all know how in Greece was 
established the power of a more demo- 
cratic, over a purely patriarchal govern- 
ment ; how the old slavish and colossal 
civilization was replaced by a reasoning 
intellectual one. How, as if conscious 
of his destiny, the Greek began his ca- 
reer by building up pyramids of letters, 
monuments of art, obelisks of science. 
“ For it is a remarkable circumstance in 
the history of Greece,” says Mitford, 
“ that its oldest traditionary memorials 
relate not to war and conquest, gener- 
ally the only materials of the annals of 
barbarous ages, but to the invention or 
introduction of institutions of the first 
necessity to political society, and of arts 
even of the first necessity to political 
life.”J It took the Roman, the restless, 
resistless lover of power, full seven cen- 
turies to disseminate to the world the 
mental treasures which the Greek, 
through his reasoning independence, had 
evolved in two hundred years. But dur- 
ing all this time the worm was silently 
gnawing at the root of the goodly tree of 
development. Notwithstanding their 
aesthetic grandeur, neither the Grecian 
nor the Roman commonwealths arose to 
the conception that unceasing indefinite 
progress and political stability were corn- 
* Preserved by Humboldt in liis Yues des Cor- 
dilleres. 
t Ethnological Journal, New Series, No. 1. 
j History of Greece, Yol. I. 9 
patible with individual freedom alone. 
With them, individual was merged into 
political liberty; the state was every- 
thing, the individual nothing. The 
mucli-lauded classical patriotism was 
the degradation, the sacrifice of self for 
the party or government to which the 
person belonged. A true patriotism 
teaches the exaltation of the commun- 
ity, the amelioration of society through 
self-cultivation, self-advancement alone, i 
One thousand years, and all was again 
in confusion—confusion settling down 
into the thick darkness of the mediaeval 
period. Again the scholar stood the 
friend of man. To his comprehensive 
vision it was evident that there was no 
hope for human-kind until it had passed 
from beneath the despotic cloud of com- 
munitism. ‘‘Home-keeping youths have 
ever homely wits.” As with individuals, ; 
so it is with nations. For the proof of 
this look to the history of that fossilized 
people, the Chinese. The spirit of non- 
intercourse so sedulously cultivated by 
them, has been proof against the activ- 
ity, by which, for the last two thousand 
years, they have been surrounded. The 
conviction of the necessity of external 
intercourse and activity, was the re- 
deeming thought for Europe. Close 
upon it followed the efficient means for 
the accomplishment of that redemption. 
The revelation of the polarity of the 
magnet fell upon the benighted nations 
of the Old World like a genial shower 
upon a withered field. From its off- 
spring, commerce—“the calm health 
of nations”—resulted that truly demo- 
cratic and growing civilization, which, 
after giving to Central Europe her 
greatness, and to England her mari- 
time power, has unfalteringly held on 
its westward way; and now, upon our 
own continent, under more liberal aus- 
pices, is soaring grandly upward, and 
though still imperfect, is the nearest 
earthly approach to that happy condi- 
tion of society in which every member, 
acting out freely and honestly his part, 
government becomes obsolete—-no lon- 
ger of any use. 
Such is the general picture; examine 
it more attentively for a moment. See 
how those true children of the sun, heat, 
light, and electricity have been delivered 
into the hand of man, as bond-servants, 
obedient to his call. Learn from the 
photographer, how light doetli his bid- 
ding right well. Behold howr from cer- 
tain gross chemical elements skilfully 
Combined, has been evolved that mys- 
terious calorific force, that miniature 
thunder and lightning, the power of gun- 
powder; which, to use the words of a 
philosophical friend, “ has essentially 
modified the condition of the human 
race; for it thenceforward secured the 
uninterrupted progress of civilization, 
which can never again he arrested by the 
incursions of barbarous hordes, nor the 
light of knowledge be in embryo as dur- 
ing the early periods of history. ”f 
With consummate skill the marriage 
of water and heat was effected. The 
child of that marriage has grown to be 
an herculean aid to onward-moving 
humanity. Certainly steam is a bene- 
factor to the race. The printing press 
and the electric telegraph have become 
the handmaids of thought. By their 
assistance the latter expands uninter- 
ruptedly and in every direction, through 
time and space. The invention of Faust 
binds together the past and the present; 
the trained thunderbolt of Jove links to 
each other widely-separated towns and 
tracts, lying in different latitudes and 
longitudes. The obstructing seas are 
defined; and already the electric con- 
nection of continents is being removed 
from the domain of speculation into 
that of reality. 
The scholar’s “ pure intellect, ground- 
ing its exertions upon a moderate num- 
ber of very elementary propositions in 
theoretical mechanics and geometry,'’ 
has given to man “ almost all the great 
combinations of modern mechanism and 
many of its refinements and nicer im- 
j provements.’'f Among mechanical aids 
! to the physical senses, two stand pre- 
eminently forth for the wonders they 
disclose, though the inventions, as it 
were of yesterday. The telescope shows 
; us worlds scattered through the infinity 
: of space ; the microscope reveals worlds 
I crowded into the minutest atoms. We 
are poised in wondering awe betwixt the 
great and small. The microscope has 
exposed endless creations of animal life, 
floating hither and thither in the serial 
ocean, animating the crust of the earth 
and disporting in the inmost recesses of 
animals and plants. Activities—crea- 
tive, preservative, and reproductive ; 
i activities as varied as wonderful are 
! displayed in a drop of water or in the 
simplest vegetable germ. The telescope 
brings to view unnumbered millions of 
stars, filling what to the naked eye is 
j blank and cheerless space;—stars so far 
* Dr. Metcalfe. Caloric; its agencies in the 
Phenomena of Nature, Vol. I. 
t Sir John Herschell. Discourse on the Study 
of Natural Philosophy. 10 
removed as to require 14,000 years to 
send their light to the earth. Even the 
distances of some fixed stars have been 
determined, the planets weighed as in a 
balance, and the rapidity of their orbital 
motiopscalculated. Whobutthe scholar 
could have weighed the mass of Neptune, 
numbered the years of its revolution, 
and ascertained the dimensions of its 
orbit, eve that planet was seen by mortal 
eye V Who but the scholar could have 
taught us, that as our earth rotated, on 
its axis, and revolved around the sun, it 
was also subject to a translatory motion 
in space which was silently but surely 
hurrying it towards a distant point in 
the heavens ?* 
Long ere you were unwittingly ushered 
into the world, as members of the great 
body politic, progression was (and still 
is) taxed to the utmost to promote your 
enjoyment, add to your comfort, and 
even to give an ornamental excellence 
and finish to the accompaniments of 
your existence. Letters, science, and 
art, have been travelling, oftentimes 
footsore, over a weary road, to bestow 
upon you benefits unknown to your pre- 
decessors. The past is full of discov- 
eries and inventions, made for your 
benefit; of mighty examples of the good 
and great, enacted for vour edification. 
If, then, your daily wants are better 
cared for; if the humblest among you 
are better clothed and lodged than "the 
ancient kings of France or England; if 
the standard of moral excellence is more 
exalted and better defined ; if the intel- 
lectual demands of our nature are more 
efficiently and more elegantly complied 
with,—then remember, that just in pro- 
portion to the benefits received, is the 
demand made upon you for compensa- 
ting exertion. Society, through the aid 
of the scholar, has done much, very 
much for you; from the storehouse of 
its laboriously collected experience, you 
have drawn freely and without stint. 
The essential comforts, the utilitarian 
aids, the refined and elegant accomplish- 
ments, the humanizing knowledge of 
nature, are so many talents intrusted to 
your care, to be repaid with interest. 
The law is imperative ; each and every 
individual must liquidate the debt he 
owes to humanity. In all justice, there- 
fore, you cannot be idle if you would ; 
you dare not, if you could. He who 
shrinks from the work before him, will 
be overshadowed by the cloud of that 
curse ever clinging to standing still.f 
Such an one contradicts himself, re- 
maining- in discord with the deep and 
abiding purposes of his being. 
Your own intellectual wants and in- 
terests entail upon you an intellectual 
energy which, charity-like, beginning at 
home, expands until it has penetrated 
the mass and reached and affected the 
very circumference of humanity. Hav- 
ing strengthened your mind by gather- 
ing carefully the active thoughts of the 
past, and the living benefits of the pre- 
sent, think not to say, I will now rest. 
You cannot rest. The grave itself, is 
the commencement of a new life. 
Your intellectual interests, then, you 
must cultivate ; for to their education 
all actual and solid advancement of the 
condition of society, stands directly re- 
lated. Very truly, you cannot all be 
scholars; I use the term in its highest 
philosophical acceptation. Nor is the 
work of increasingand perfecting knowl- 
edge demand, or even expected, of every 
member in society. It is not given to 
every man to become a Bacon. 
Science is the work of two orders of 
mind. The first narrowly inspects na- 
ture of her modes of action, institutes 
artificial experiments, carefully collects 
and tabulates observations and facts. 
These constitute the capital, the basal 
or fundamental, and therefore unalte- 
rable statistics of science. The second 
is the higher order. It arises above the 
level of facts, and taking a comprehen- 
sive survey of them, endeavors to deduce 
those generalizations which we call 
“ laws of nature,” These two varieties 
of mind are mutually supporting, and 
equally necessary to the education .of 
scientific intellect. Without data, gene- 
ralization would be impossible, and 
without generalization men could never 
rise above mere phenomena or effects, 
or conditions of existence. A natural 
law implies a lawmaker. It is, indeed, 
but the active mode of causation, the 
medium of the efficient cause. Thus 
a truthful generalization carries the 
mind from a survey of phenomena up 
towards the Ineffable Cause of all things. 
Again, you have other interests; 
higher and still more important; at once 
personal and moral in signification. 
These, also, require a peculiar educa- 
tion. Through his intellectual culture 
mainly, the duty of the individual to- 
wards society is discharged. Ilis moral 
culture concerns himself, chiefly. Upon 
it depends his present happiness and 
future condition. Moral perfection is 
I by man unattainable. The attribute of 
* The star h in constellation Hercules, 
f Goethe, Die Aphorismen uber Naturwissen- 
8chrift. 11 
God cannot become that of man. Ne- 
vertheless, the path thitherward leading 
is open to all, and ever the voice of the 
scholar is heard above the din of life, 
earnestly persuading men to enter and 
walk therein, ere the night of death 
closes ground them. 
Bulwer very truly said, “The key to 
all mystery is the desire to know.” So 
in the sphere of the moral faculties, the 
desire to improve is the primary and 
efficient step in moral progression. lie 
wno really desires to do good to his fel- 
low-man, has already profited liimsJf. 
The recipient is blessed by the actual 
performance of the good deed, not more, 
oftentimes not as much, as the m nd in 
which the happy conception originated. 
“ A fig tree,” says the Arabian proverb, 
“ by looking upon a fig tree, becometh 
fruitful.” So the mind that steadfastly 
contemplates the truthful and the good, 
blossoms at last with beneficent acts an 
hundredfold. The influence of such a 
mind spreads widely, winning many to 
like deeds. This it is to be in peace with 
one’s self, to harmonize with nature, 
and with God, the author and sustainer 
of nature. 
“ I live to move,” said Sir ,T. Davies, 
two and a half centuries ago. Tluse 
four words are talismanie; they contain 
the successful secret of the truly eminent 
men of ancient and modern times. Men 
of character are men of power, and 
character is, in truth, but will highly 
cultivated through action. All power, 
as humanly manifested, is evolved from 
action, for every act is a positive and 
efficient item of knowledge. Progressive 
“ man in the ages,” is bound, Ixion-like, 
to the ceaseless wheel of activity. Eart li 
had witnessed countless cycles of action 
before the garden of Eden received its 
first tenant. The life of the globe was 
then and still is the synonym for change. 
Creation , development , decay and deal h 
—which is but transition into anoi her 
state of activity—fills up the restless 
history of nature. Narrowly inspected, 
this history is seen to be a progressive 
one. Development, whether physical or 
otherwise, consists in action. Progres- 
sive development is therefore an uni- 
versal lawr. On the liil’s, “ rock-ribbed 
and ancient as the sun,” it is stamped 
with a bold hand ; in the caverns of the 
earth slumber its fossil records; from 
the blue firmament sparkle its lustrous 
witnesses. Not less obedient than the 
inorganic, is the organic world to this 
law. By it the insignificant grub is 
transformed into the gorgeous butterllv; 
through it is accomplished the evolution 
of the animal and vegetable germs. So, 
too, it would appear, the human brain 
in the embryonic period of transition, 
successively resembles that which cha- 
racterizes each of theweli-marked animal 
types below it, terminating, finally, at 
the perfect form of the race to which it 
belongs. The forest oak and the hum- 
blest garden plant are ahke pregnant 
will lessons of wisdom. Their bunding, 
bloom, and involution, or decay, are so 
many silent, but none the less expressive 
attestations to the prevalent e of the law 
under consideration. All nature is alive 
and musical with motion. Action is, 
indeed, life ; inaction, death. The mu- 
tations of matter are, as they have been 
from the beginning, incessant; the in- 
organic elements are cons ant ly passing 
into the vegetable, the vegetable king- 
dom yields them up to the animal, and 
this latter in perishing returns them 
again to the inorganic world. So the 
invisible circle of action is complete. 
More manifest examples are an und us. 
See them in the rapidly ri siting river, 
in the foaming, bursting cataract, in the 
ceaseless, surging seas, in the bending 
forest as it is struck by the storm, in the 
fluttering leave as they are toyed with 
by the zephyrs, in the constant trade- 
winds wafting the mariner from one 
com inent to another, with but little ex- 
ertion on his part, in the raging typhoons 
of the eastern seas, in the drifting ice- 
bergs of the polar ocean, 
Division of labor has assigned us dif- 
ferent pm sails. Yet by r< ason of the 
all-pervading ideal, our pursuit is one 
and indivisible. The moment we lose 
sight of the material world on the one 
hand, and of man physical—its counter- 
part—on the other, and direct the eye of 
thought to that grand focus, that ideal 
life which is the proper sphere of the 
soul, that moment we begin to approach 
each other like the figures in a stereo- 
scope, coalescing into one solid actual 
mind,—which is Soul Reasoning,—and 
thus from this high, glorious, and rigidly 
severe standpoint, at once the theme 
and guide of the scholar-life, we obtain 
that only view of God, and nature, and 
man, and man’s duty in this life, which 
enables us to work out truly the duties 
alio ted us by the Supreme Master. 
Deem it a privilege to work, and you 
will overcome all adversities, making 
each conquered obstacle an auxiliary in 
the succeeding conflict. Wait not for 
opportunities. Waiting is never with- 
out danger. “Hethat considereth the wind shall not sow, and he thatlooketh 
to the clouds shall not reap.” Bather 
carve out opportunities from the cir- 
cumstances of y ur s ation. Your des- 
tiny is very much in your own hands, to 
be determined by your own free wi ling 
power. The Will is the master, and 
when the master sneaks, already the 
work is half done. Horace reveals the 
whole secret of Boman greatness in a 
line— 
‘•Nil sine magno vita labore dedit mortalibus.” 
Let it be your guiding motto. You 
will reap if you work and faint not. 
Work, then, without haste, but without 
rest. Work for the sake of your own un- 
dying interest; work for your coun ry’s 
sake—your country, which is free only 
in proportion to the knowledge of its 
(d izms, which is s'rong just in propor- 
tion to heir morali y. which is enduring 
just in propor i n to the unsectarian 
oneness < f their Christianity. S.rive to 
extend the republic of knowledge, truth. 
and learning in this life. Strive always 
“ To run 
The great career of honor, to exalt 
Your generous aim to all divinest deeds, 
To chase each partial purpose from your br-ast. 
And through the mists of passion and of sense. 
And through the tossing tide ofch ince and pain, 
To hold your course unf utering. white the voice 
Of truth and virtue, up the sieep ascent 
t >f naiure, calls you to your last reward. 
The applauding smile of heaven.” Addison. 
Dr. Meigs was very fond of the fine 
arts, having a profound knowledge of 
music, painting, and the drama, and 
his histrionic talent; would have made 
himabrilliant star, had he essayed the 
“buskin.” On numerous occasions he 
bad taken part in private theatricals of 
the higher order, showing how well he 
wus calculated for the s:age. He was 
of a poetical temperament, and many fu- 
gitive pieces are sti1 preserved by bis 
friends. Even bis prose is often poetry, 
as may be seen by many passages in his 
addresses, and this talent lie cultivated 
and improved in his later efforts, as lie 
advanced in years. He had the rare 
gift of oratory, and was a perfect reader; 
many an evening he contributed no lit- 
tle to the enjoyment of his friends, by 
reading from the poetical works of Bret 
Harte, Oliver Wendell Holmes, or 
Swinburne; the latter was one of his 
favorite authors. He enjoyed the ex- 
quisite melody Of his rhythm, joined to 
his noble 1 ve of liberty. Like Victor 
Hugo, he considered Swinburne the first 
of English lyrists. (And we may here 
say that he lias certainly rare merits, and 
one may hope that he will yet give the 
world a work free fr< m his many faul s, 
and worthy of his pot tical talents.) Yet, 
with these tastes, and of a most domes- 
tic and companionable character, the 
doctor was a baclu lor; a singular pre- 
ference, w hich li's father attributes to 
the fact that he was wedded to his books, 
of which lie had a valuable collection of 
about 6 000 volumes, unequalled by any 
o her library! f its size in the fascinating 
features that it offer d to the book-worm 
and the s'udent. But this was not his 
only reason, for as long as his mother 
Ived, he never desired to marry, altlio’ 
advised to do so by her, as she often told 
the wr'ter, that as the D'dor’s tas'es 
were domestic, he wou’d make a gootl 
woman very happy. After his mother’s 
death he compared every woman by her 
standard, and it was such an elevated 
one that he never succeeled in finding 
one to till her place. “The education of 
that platonic passion for books, properly 
termed bibliomania, whose s le ambi- 
tion is to get possession of the rare and 
carious, merely for po session’s sake, 
“ as wadi ol served by an anonymous wri- 
ter in the Telegraph”, is entirely absent 
in its make-up ; and thus, while the vol- 
umes that fid the cases include many 
literary treasures, the entire collection 
bears the unmistakable stamp of the 
s udent’s magazine, and that the mate- 
rials of which it is composed have been 
gathered gradually, as required for ac- 
tual use.” 
“A large variety of books in smooth, 
drab covers, the regulation shade of 
medical literature, numbering about 
3,000 volumes, fill several cases, and em- 
brace the works of authors eminent in 
the profession, treating upon the various 
ills that flesh is heir to. A large num- 
ber of books in this department are de- voted to ethnology, craniology and other 
kindred sciences, while not less than 
800 volumes represent the specialty of 
this medical branch, and the Doctor's 
favorite study—physiology. The bal- 
ance of the library comprises bocks of 
a miscellaneous character, exceedingly 
rich in variety, and embracing almost 
everything from philosophical treatises 
to the very latest novel.” 
“ Several standard editions of Shakes- 
peare, and the complete works of Byron, 
Scott, Moore, Burns, and those of a gal- 
axy of other English authors, all su- 
perbly bound, and elaborately illustrated 
with fine steel plates, are among the 
conspicuous features of the miscella- 
neous collection, and all bear the ear- 
mark .of the careful reader by the easy 
opening pages, and tlieDoctor's frequent 
pencil notes on their margin. "This may 
also be said of almost every book in the li- 
brary, for it was a rule with the owner 
not to buy a book unless he wished to 
read it, and it never entered the book- 
case until this had been done. Most of 
them contain the dates of commence- 
men t and the finish of their peru al, while 
many bear the record of having been 
read twice. The elegant character of 
the miscellania may be judged by the 
elephantine editions of the magnificent 
English Court “subscription” works, 
bound and illustrated with royal lavish- 
ness, and of which but few copies ever 
passed into the hands of others outside 
of the nobility, bide by side with these 
are Rydberg's Magic of the Middle Ag/s, 
a twin copy of the author’s original gift 
to Queen Victoria, bound by Hayday, 
and illustrated in gold. The most elab- 
orate scroll-work embellishes the gilt 
surface of the closed edges of this b: ok, 
and in many other respects indicates 
the ambition of the author to make it a 
copy fit for a queen to read. This was 
a present to the Doctor, and near it lay a 
well thumbed Latin copy of Virgil, giv- 
en him by his father upon his sixteenth 
birthday. Other books of note are 
Mott and Gliddords Types of Mankind 
and Crania of Races, to which Dr. Meigs 
was a large contributor; Mme. Llavut- 
sky’s imperial edition of the Philosophy 
of the Eastern Nations, gathered under 
the title of Isis Murciled; The Gulstan, 
or Flower Garden of bharkle, Sadi of 
Shiraz, a beautiful copy in mcrceco 
gilt; Percy’s translation of the Chinese 
Han Kun Choaan; a magnificently 
illustrated copy of Lavater's Essays 
on Physiognomy Julia Kavanaugli’s 
Women <f France; superb copies of 
Hogarth and Gilroy, and elephant edi- 
tions of the famous liabelais, Spain, 
and other works, illustrated by Gustave 
Dore.” 
In September, of 1859, Dr. Meigs was 
appointed lecturer on chma.olcgy and 
physiology at the Franklin Institute for 
t..e Promotion of the Mechanic Arts, 
holding the position for eight years, 
attracting always very large and atten- 
tive clashes to listen to him. He also 
lectured frequently on his favorite 
branch, physiology, in the different me- 
chanic institutes in Philadelphia, and 
before various literary associations in 
the country and neighboring cities. 
These lectures were delivered at night 
but were always considered by him 
as secondary to his practice, which he 
never neglected, often coming from 
the be dside of a patient to lecture with- 
out his meals, and hastening awray to visit 
another patient on the completion of his 
allotted task, which lie performed con- 
scientiously, preparing himself during 
the previous day or night. 
The character of these lectures before 
the Franklin Institute, by Dr. Meigs, 
were all of them bearing upon or eluci- 
dating some important fact of his fa- 
vorite subject, physiology. The first 
series he delivered was upon climate, 
and its influence upon the human sub- 
ject. This was illustrated by various 
thermal charts, dwelling upon the na- 
ture of hot, warm or temperate, and 
cold climates on the skin, as producing 14 
its various charges of color, also the 
peculiar diseases caused by such altera- 
tions of temperature, with the great 
effect they produced on the peculiar 
races of mankind. Another important 
sul ject was the various forms of food 
upon which man existed, either in a 
savage or a civilized state. This was 
illustrated by a large collection of foods, 
both in their na' ural and manufactured 
condition. In this connection he natu- 
rally brought in the action of the mouth, 
teeth, and glandular secretions, and the 
whole proct ss of healthy digestion in the 
stomach and intestines. After describ- 
ing the process of digestion in man, he 
passed to that of the animal, where the 
stomach and intestines are generally 
much m >re complicated, and form a 
longer canal in those animals which feed 
on vegetable matter, possessing little 
nutritious property; and on the other 
hand they are more simple and of less 
extent in those animals which nature 
has designed habitually to feed on the 
highly nutritious tlisli of other animals. 
He would then discuss the important 
qu.s ion: What is the kind of food on 
which man is by nat ure clesl ined t o feed ? 
To answer this question, as well as for 
other purposes unconnected with our 
present sul ject, the digestive organs in 
man would be carefully compared with 
those of the animals. This interesting 
investigation shows us that the di- 
gts ive organs in man hold an inter- 
mediate place between those of animals 
which in a slate of nature feed wholly 
on vegetables, and those which exclu- 
sively subsist on animal food or flesh. 
There can be but little doubt that we 
are acting in obedience to the dictates 
of our physiological nature in feeding 
partly on vegetables and partly on ani- 
mal substance. This he would demon- 
strate, and prove that any exclusive 
diet was in itself hurtful, and that a 
mixed diet was the proper kind of food 
for man. 
The Franklin Institute for the Promo- 
tion of the Mechanic Arts was founded 
in 1824, and lias been an auxiliary to the 
medical schools of Philadelphia in sup- 
plying many of their most distinguished 
professors. It was in this admirable in- 
stitution that they received their first 
training in lecturing and experimenting 
before a critical audience. Among its 
professors were Franklin Bache, John 
K. Mitchell, John F. Frazer, Robert E. 
Rogers, and Henry Morton; men who, 
like James A. Meigs, were r< m rkable 
for the extent of their knowledge, and 
whose names are identified with the 
scientific and medical reputation of our 
city. Besides, there was a long list of 
others who have contributed valuable 
lectures, and made for themselves a 
name not only in our city, but in the 
United States. Its present President, 
R: bert E. Rogers, is not only a chemist 
and physician, but has shown himself to 
be a mechanic in the highest sense of 
the word, by making himself familiar 
with the progress of the mechanical arts. 
He knows well the part played by science 
in that progress, and he well expresses, 
in an address before the Institute, its 
share in the arts and sciences during 
more than half a century. 
“ Did time permit I would at tempt to 
recall to your minds in detail, however 
imperfect, the effort wherein this Insti- 
tute has done its part, but to do this 
would weary your patience. I would 
therefore simply refer to the experiments 
it has conducted in the investigation of 
the strength of materials; to its careful 
search with the causes of the steam boiler 
explosion; to the numerous reports of 
its committees upon matters within its 
province; its library of valuable scien- 
tific and practical works for con sultation; 
its collection of minerals and models, 
the one a help and incentive to the study 
of an important branch of natural sci- 
ence bearing upon the mining interests, 
the other facilitating inventive talent; 
its course of instructive lectures deliv- 
ered during each winter, etc. 15 
IN 1855 Dr. Meigs was elected physician to 
the department of diseases of the chest in 
tne Howard Hospital and Infirmary for In- 
curables, a position which he filled for thirteen 
years to the entire satisfaction of the Board of 
Trustees and his colleagues. Indeed he became 
so successful in diseases of the chest, that he had 
one of the largest clinics in this city at that 
period. This connection brought him numer- 
ous private patients from far and near, hearing 
of his fame in this benevolent institution, and 
who were glad to avail themselves of his skill. 
This special and distinctive charity has for its 
object, that each physician confines his atten- 
tion exclusively to a specific class of diseases. 
It was founded May 1, 1853, and so far as 
known, was the first successful effort of the kind 
in this country ; it did not interfere with the 
operations of the Guardians of the Poor, but 
limited its efforts as much as possible to a better 
class of the industrious poor; none were refused 
medical advice, and medicines were furnished 
free of charge. The Doctor only resigned his 
position at the Howard to take a higher one at 
the Pennsylvania Hospital, to which he was 
elected without his solicitation or application. 
In the year 1856 he became Librarian of the 
Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadelphia, the 
duties of which office he discharged for several 
years, until increasing professional duties com- 
pelled him to resign. In 1857, by an invita- 
tion of the Faculty and Board of Corporators of 
the Philadelphia College of Medicine, then lo- 
cated on Fifth Street, he accepted the chair of 
the Institutes of Medicine in that institution, and 
for two years also conducted the clinics, and 
this he did without any pecuniary return, the 
college not being in a financial condition to pay 
him; yet he gave his valuable time and atten- 
tion, still fitting himself to fill a higher position. 
In April, 1859, Dr. Meigs was transferred to 
the Professorship of Institutes of Medicine in the 
medical department of the Pennsylvania College, 
with a number of his colleagues of the Philadel- 
phia College of Medicine. Thus while very young 
in years be became the successor of his preceptor, 
Prof. F. G. Smith, the latter succeeding Prof. 
Samuel Jackson in the chair of Physiology, in 
the University of Pennsylvania. While connect- 
ed with the Pennsylvania College, our young 
Professor delivered two systematic courses of 
lectures on physiology, illustrating them with 
an extensive series of vivisectional demonstrations 
which attracted much attention at the time, as 
no sustained systematic effort had been made to 
teach physiology experimentally in either of the 
four medical schools then existing in Philadel- 
phia; here again he labored without remune- 
ration, for just about the time when they had 
attracted a paying class the civil war broke out, 
and the class was broken up, and he in com- 
pany with his colleagues resigned. Few men 
would have been willing to lecture, labor, and 
wait so long without remuneration, but with 
him this was a secondary consideration. At 
this time he was poor, in money, but he well 
knew that his careful education was fitting 
him for a higher and nobler field of usefulness 
when the tide would turn. In this connec- 
tion it will be interesting to step aside from 
this constant contemplation of work without any 
pecuniary reward, to a pleasing incident in his 
life. One warm summer afternoon the subject 
of our memoir was in his office after a laborious 
day’s practice conversing with his mother, 
when who should come in to visit him but the 
Nestor of American surgery, Prof. Samuel D. 
Gross, who, after a cordial greeting to him and 
his mother, informed him that he was about to 
go out of town, being worn out with his active 
duties and the heat, and desirous that our young 
physician should take charge of his journal, the 
Louisville Medical Review, and issue the num- 
ber for him. The Doctor at once agreed to do so, 
with evident pleasure that so much confidence 
should be reposed in him by one whom he ad- 
mired as one of the brightest lights of the med- 
ical profession. He took especial care with the 
number, and when the Professor returned to the 
city he had another visit from him, when he 
expressed himself as much pleased with the 
number. Prof. Gross then tendered the young 
editor a handsome honorarium, the first which 
had been offered him for such literary work, it 
was at first declined, but being pressed he ac- 
cepted it. This was the first, but not the last 
time in which the generous Professor availed 
himself of the labors of our youthful scholar, as 
he subsequently wrote for him a very good life 
of the late Dr. Jacob Randolph, for his Bio- 
graphical Dictionary of Physicians, and he was 
always well rewarded for his work. These 
acts of kindness on the part of Dr. Gross were 
often alluded to by him to the writer, in after 
years, and in his last valedictory address he 
writes of him ‘ ‘ Thou, whom thy brethren all 
delight to praise; thou, good friend of my 
early, struggling days.” On another occasion 
our good Professor selected Dr. Meigs from nu- 
merous aspirants to fill a most important chair, 
in a successful and well-known Southern college, 
with a fixed salary, which, after many consul- 
tations with his good mother was declined with 
many thanks, this declination was mainly ow- 
ing to his mother’s unwillingness for her son to 
leave her, and her firm belief that he would 
ultimately do as well in Philadelphia. During 
the brief period of the Doctor’s connection with 
the Pennsylvania College he was elected by the 
Board of Guardians of the Poor, Consulting Phy- 
sician and Clinical Lecturer to the Philadelphia 
Hospital at Blockley, which gave him an oppor- 16 
tunityto lecture before a large class of medical 
students from all the medical colleges, and his 
lectures were most acceptable, he taking care to 
study well his cases before presenting them to the 
class. For the next five years he applied him- 
self most devotedly to a laborious practice, hav- 
ing on his hands many of the cases of those who 
either went into the field during the war or were 
attached to distinct hospitals. An injury to 
his hand prevented him from being called upon 
by the government, and exempted him from 
active duty in the field. His practice so in- 
creased that he would make twenty, thirty and 
even forty visits in the twenty-four hours, and 
it was no extraordinary thing for him to have 
two and even three confinements during the 
same number of hours, and he attended as large 
a number as two hundred obstetrical cases, for 
several years; , one year it reached two hun- 
dred and fifty. Dr. Meigs was very successful 
in this department without desiring such a class 
of practice, and he gradually withdrew from it, 
passing the cases to his younger medical friends. 
We often looked upon him with admiration and 
wonder, knowing but few could perform such 
an amount of mental and physical labor. Dr. 
Meigs had a most remarkably robust constitution 
and was able to get along with the minimum 
amount of sleep; never was troubled with dys- 
pepsia, the only thing he suffered from was now 
and then a cold or bilious headache. He had a 
splendid digestion, good appetite, and was an 
admirable sleeper, and was very abstemious in 
his habits; his eyes however gave him some 
trouble from his constant study and the use of 
the microscope, especiallyat night, byproducing 
muscae volitantes. 
In 1866, a spring course of lectures was 
established by the Faculty of Jefferson Me- 
dical College, with the object ot extending the 
facilities of instruction, so as practically to length- 
en the regular winter lectures; hedelivered inthis 
special course, by request of the Faculty, a series 
of lectures on the physiology and pathology of 
the blood and circulation. Here again he lec- 
tured without remuneration, and in June, 1868, 
on the resignation of the late Prof. Robley 
Dunglison, became a candidate for the vacancy, 
and after a most exciting canvass, in which 
the whole profession of the city and county 
was interested, against a most able, well-known, 
and popular gentleman, was elected by the 
Board of Trustees of Jefferson Medical .Col- 
lege Professor of the institutes of Medicine 
and Medical Jurisprudence, his application for 
the chair having been supported by a large 
number of the medical men of Philadelphia, 
many of them using their utmost personal efforts 
on his behalf. They were attracted to him by his 
urbanity of manner, willingness to assist them 
in anv emergency, which with his pleasant smile 
won their regard, and also their respect for his 
qualities of head and heart. His fame ex- 
tended to other portions of the country, and 
even to distant countries where he was known 
only by his contributions to science. As evi- 
dences of this, he had the strongest letters of 
recommendation from . the late Prof. Henry 
of the Smithsonian Institute, at Washington, D. 
C.; Dr. J. C. Nott, the celebrated ethnologist 
of Mobile, Alabama; Professors Wilson, of 
Toronto, Canada; Owen, of the British Mu- 
seum; Turner, of the University of Edinburgh; 
Broca, of the Academy of Medicine of Paris; 
Von Diiben, of the Cazolinska Institute of 
Stockholm; Pruner Bey, of Cairo, and other 
distinguished physicians and scientists of Ame- 
rica and Europe. Herein was shown the ad- 
vantage of being prepared, for had he not, how 
could he have ever been able to fill the place of 
so distinguished a physiologist, lecturer, scholar, 
and well known author as the late Prof. Dungli- 
son ? Let it be stated to his credit, that he not 
only filled the position, but we have never 
known in Philadelphia a more successful lec- 
turer or one more capable of instructing and 
teaching the well-known facts in physiology, 
for nothing that was doubtful, or mere spe- 
culative, was ever given to the student. No 
amount of time, money, and labor was ever 
grudged by Prof. Meigs, so that he could make 
his facts more clear and plain, and no one 
either at home or abroad employed the oxhy- 
drogen, or lime light, more freely, or had finer 
illustrations of the nervous system and other por- 
tions of the human body. It was considered 
such a treat to hear him, that some of the ablest 
lawyers, divines, and professors would eagerly 
throng his class room so that the very aisles were 
frequently crowded. Honors now came thick 
and fast; he was elected a member of all the 
learned societies of this county, medical and 
scientific, also President of the Philadelphia 
County Medical Society; member of the Society 
d’ Anthropologie de Paris; the Ethnological So- 
ciety of London; the Anthropological Society 
of London; the Societas Medecorum Svecanae 
of Stockholm, and the International Congress 
of Prehistoric Archaeology. He also was a dele- 
gate to the International Congress which met in 
Philadelphia during the Centennial Exposition. 
October 12, 1868, he delivered the inaugu- 
ral address introductory to his first course, 
after his election to the professorship of the 
Institutes of Medicine, and the subject he se- 
lected was the “Correlation of the Physical 
and Vital Forces,” a subject he had given long 
and deep study, in conjunction with the late 
Dr. S. L. Metcalf, formerly of Kentucky. This 
lecture is one of his best productions, having 
received much care and attention at his hands, in evidence of which two editions of it were 
published and over one thousand copies sold. 
Another valuable scientific paper of his was 
on the Relation of Atomic Heat to Crystalline 
Forms, which was read before the Academy oi 
Natural Sciences and published in their Journal. 
Being chairman of the standing committee 
of Anthropology of the Academy of Natural 
Sciences (which he retained until his death), 
he arranged and classified the extensive collec- 
tion of human crania of the Academy, and pre- 
pared a systematic catalogue of the collection, 
which was published by the Academy. But his 
crowning work, by which he was best known 
abroad, was his valuable essay on the “Cranial 
Characteristics of the Races,” byNott, and Glid- 
don’s “ Indigenous Races of the Earth.” In 
this learned essay, which exhibits the genius of 
its author, is presented a general survey of hu- 
man skulls, in their ethnical relations, and this 
is considered a work of great merit, and won 
from scientists a full round of praise. He con- 
tributed at various times, many original articles 
on craniography, prominent among which maybe 
mentioned: ‘ ■ Hints to Craniographers upon the 
Importance and Feasibility of Establishing some 
Uniform System by which the Collection and 
Promulgation of Craniological Statistics and the 
Exchange of Duplicate Crania may be Promo- 
ted ; ” “ Description of a Deformed Fragmentary 
Human Skull found in an Ancient Quarry Cave at 
Jerusalem “ Observations on the Form of the 
Occiput in the Various Races of Man,” The 
Mensuration of the Human Skull, and on Ob- 
servations on the Cranial Forms of the American 
Aborigines.” 
October, 1872, he delivered a most admi- 
rable and learned address at the laying of the 
corner-stone of the new building for the Acad- 
emy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, which 
was published by the Academy. For several 
years he was collecting materials for a biblio- 
graphy of physiology, in which could be found 
all the well-established facts of this department. 
He was also writing a book on woman’s place in 
history,and had collected almost every work on 
this interesting subject. The last complete work 
of Dr. Meigs, written under the pressure of a 
multitude of avocations, and chiefly while 
riding about, was his valedictory address to the 
graduating class, which was written in the form 
of a poem, in two different measures; and 
although there may be a few faults of versifi- 
cation, etc., yet no one can read it carefully 
withoutbeing convinced of the great power in his 
words, the beautiful and classical references, and 
many most chaste and graceful expressions 
which showed much improvement over his 
early efforts. The theme selected was the 
Epithalamium of the young physician, in taking 
Fair Hygeia as his bride. 
“ ]>ehold the maiden, Hygeia, your faithful guide, 
Your gentle, loving, health-dispensing bride, 
And now be mine, the pleasing task to sing 
Your epithalamium, and to fling 
Upon the altar, ere you leave for aye, 
Some gifts to mark this bright, auspicious day.” 
Dr. Meigs erred in doing too much work ; it 
was true that circumstances conspired to make 
him the willing agent to lecture too frequently, 
because of, ‘in part, the ill health of two 
of his colleagues, but still it was taking too 
much labor upon him to perform, and then he 
would steal hours from sleep, in the vain hope 
that he had such a stock of health that he could 
go on, and on, as he had done for years before. 
His hope was all the time to lay aside the 
drudgery of practice and take a long rest, with 
congenial occupation of a true scientific and lit- 
erary character, and visit Europe, for that was 
his heart’s desire, but like many other men, he 
would riot listen to his friends, or even to the 
small voice within. How different from Goethe, 
whom he admired so much. The grand old Ger- 
man though a constant thinker and active toiler, 
reached the age of eighty-three, retaining his 
intellectual forces unimpaired to the last. Mon- 
tescjue also lived a life of unremitting industry, 
yet he reached a good old age, and Quesnal 
was in his eighty-sixth year when he died, 
closing by a peaceful death a life which had 
been assiduously devoted to study. At the base 
of this overwork there was in our good friend a 
mistaken conception of duty, also a false theory 
of life, as he failed to give due attention to 
his physical health, when alas! the day of 
reckoning had come. June, 1876, he ceased 
even to take his summer holiday, his reason 
was that he desired to study the collection of 
the International Exhibition, but the same ex- 
cuse was given in 1877-78-79. This latter 
year he was much exposed in summer con- 
sultations out of the city, and in malarious 
regions, and soon his friends began to notice 
his change in color and complexion; still he 
worked on and on when he should have been 
in his bed. It was not until he had a conges- 
tive chill followed by local manifestations of de- 
ranged liver and kidneys, with some local hemor- 
rhoidal trouble, which alarmed him that he as a 
precautionary matter at once sent for his friend 
and neighbor, Dr. JohnH. Brinton, awell known 
surgeon, who treated him for his local hemor- 
rhoidal difficulty, but getting no better he called 
Dr. Da Costa, in consultation, but the fatal cha- 
racter did not show itself conspicuously. There 
were hopes that he might yet get well; vain 
hopes, for soon, too soon, some internal hemor- 
rhage or organic change, embolism or sudden 
clot in the heart, terminated in his 55th year his 
brilliant career in the veryprime of his manhood. 
Few persons were permitted to visit him during 
his illness, except his father and a most faithful 18 
old housekeeper who acted as nurse. On Sunday 
morning, Nov. 9, 1879, about three o’clock he 
was able to sleep, and was free from pain for a 
few hours, but his mind, however, was active 
with his duties in his lecture room, etc.; a second 
time he slept and when he awoke he told his father 
he felt better and would like to have something to 
eat, his father gave him some beef tea and milk; 
he desired to have a cup of tea; while this was 
preparing he wished to see some letters that had 
arrived from Europe which were given him. On 
expressing a desire to get up, he was so weak as 
not to be able to raise his head, his father assist- 
ed him and he walked across the room to the 
washstand and made his toilet, and then was 
helped back to bed, when they had a pleasant 
talk of going to Europe, etc.; his father agree- 
ing to go with him,—at this time he thought he 
was better. After taking his tea he laid down, 
but soon after his father noticed a change in 
his countenance and expression, and some ir- 
regularity of his respiration; so he sent at once 
for Dr. Brinton. When he arrived, he was dead. 
Mr. Meigs declined to have a post-mortem, and 
he was so firm that no amount of persuasion, or 
the most expressed desire of his best medical 
friends had any weight with him. 
We have been asked the question, Did the Doc- 
tor die believing in a future state? We distinctly 
replied that we were sure of it. Fie was a firm be- 
liever in the immortality of the soul, and after 
his mother’s death his mind was filled with 
grief, but his consolation was that she was 
immortal, and he might hope to meet her again. 
He received a great deal of comfort from a 
beautiful letter written at that time to him by 
the elder Professor Draper, of New York, which 
he read to us and in which the Professor gave 
him the evidences of his own belief, based on 
physiological grounds, that the soul was im- 
mortal and would live forever. From some 
cause he but seldom went to church, but now 
and then he would attend the service of some 
able divine, and he enjoyed very much the dis- 
courses of the Rev. Dr. Wadsworth. Dr. Meigs 
was thoroughly conversant with both the Old 
and the New Testament, as evidenced in his 
last address, and one of his favorite books was 
the New Testament, edited with comments by 
Rev. Dr. Clark, and he carried about with him 
a small copy of Ecclesiastes, which he often 
read and admired, and which he frequently re- 
ferred to in his valedictory address. The Doc- 
tor was a biblical scholar and was conversant 
with the Bible in the original, and he had nu- 
merous works on the subject, and seemed 
pleased with the new idea of a translation, 
freeing it from many errors. He was employed 
by several clergymen as their physician, and had 
long and learned discussions on the original 
works of the ancients with some of them, who 
held him in high esteem, but there was another 
class which he considered a great injury to the 
Christian religion, and the truths which they 
professed to teach, but did not follow in their 
lives and conversation. The following com- 
munication from one of his friends and an old 
patient, expresses our ideas and confirms what 
we have already written about him : — 
“In frequent conversations which I had with 
Dr. Meigs, 1 found he entertained peculiar 
views in regard to religious ideas. He be- 
lieved in the teachings of the Bible and made 
for himself and others a high standard of 
strict morality, temperance, and chastity. He 
had no faith in being simply a member of any 
church in name, if they did not fulfil every ob- 
ligation due in all business transactions, and 
this idea was so fixed in his mind that he would 
often speak about it, and in such a positive 
manner that it would lead many to think that he 
did not believe in any true religious people at 
all; but such was nodthe case, as other evidences 
and remarks made by him to me would not 
justify such an erroneous conclusion.” Among 
the clergymen for whom he entertained a high 
regard and whom he believed to be a true ser- 
vant of the living God, was the late Rev. Dr. 
Dorr, Rector of Christ Church, and he always 
spoke of him in the highest terms. The funeral 
of Dr. Meigs took place from his late residence, 
1408 Spruce Street, and was attended by a 
large number of members of the medical pro- 
fession, and crowds of patients and friends who 
desired to take a farewell look at their beloved 
brotherand physician. The'Trustees and Faculty 
of the Jefferson Medical College, the Alumni As- 
sociation, and the students of the college attend- 
ed the funeral; the latter to the number of about 
two hundred and sixty, proceeded to the house 
in a body, and afterwards walked out to the 
cemetery. 'The services at the house and at 
Woodland Cemetery were conducted by the 
Rev. Dr. Foggo, of Christ P. E. Church, and 
the following gentlemen acted as pall-bearers: 
Drs. Ellerslie Wallace, J. M. Da Costa, Roberts 
Bartholow, and Hons. James H. Campbell, Fur- 
man Shephard, and E. B. Gardette. Dr. Meigs 
was placed near his mother, and a beautiful shaft 
of granite has been erected over him. 
In his own words, addressed to another, we 
say Farewell-.— 
“ In sadness and with hearts forlorn, 
To him whose armor has been laid aside. 
In tears and sadness and with humbled pride, 
And trembling hands and drooping soul, I spread, 
In memory of our brother who is dead, 
These withered willow leaves and cypress sad. 
Oh! never, never more his face our hearts will glad, 
Oh! never more within our ears will sound 
The voice of him we loved with love profound. 
But though his body crumbleth into dust, 
Still lives his name which all men said was just. 
To us that name whose lustre ne’er will cease, 
And to his ashes everlasting peace.”