VIVISECTION.

Omitting entirely any consideration of the ethics of vivisection, the

only points to which in the present article the attention of the

reader is invited are those in which scientific inquirers may be

supposed to have a common interest.

I. One danger to which scientific truth seems to be exposed is a

peculiar tendency to underestimate the numberless uncertainties

and contradictions created by experimentation upon living beings.

Judging from the enthusiasm of its advocates, one would think that

by this method of interrogating nature all fallacies can be

detected, all doubts determined. But, on the contrary, the result of

experimentation, in many directions, is to plunge the observer into

the abyss of uncertainty. Take, for example, one of the simplest and

yet most important questions possible,--the degree of sensibility in

the lower animals. Has an infinite number of experiments enabled

physiologists to determine for us the mere question of pain? Suppose

an amateur experimenter in London, desirous of performing some severe

operations upon frogs, to hesitate because of the extreme painfulness

of his methods, what replies would he be likely to obtain from the

highest scientific authorities of England as to the sensibility of

these creatures? We may fairly judge their probable answers to such

inquiries from their evidence already given before a royal

commission.[A]

[A] The contradictory opinions ascribed to most of the

authorities quoted in this article are taken directly from

the "Report of the Royal Commission on the Practice of

Subjecting Live Animals to Experiments for Scientific

Purposes,"--a Blue-Book Parliamentary Report.

Dr. Carpenter would doubtless repeat his opinion that "frogs have

extremely little perception of pain;" and in the evidence of that

experienced physiologist George Henry Lewes, he would find the

cheerful assurance, "I do not believe that frogs suffer pain at all."

Our friend applies, let us suppose, to Dr. Klein, of St. Bartholomew's

Hospital, who despises the sentimentality which regards animal

suffering as of the least consequence; and this enthusiastic

vivisector informs him that, in his English experience, the experiment

which caused the greatest pain without anaesthetics was the

cauterization of the cornea of a frog. Somewhat confused at finding

that a most painful experiment can be performed upon an animal that

does not suffer he relates this to Dr. Swaine Taylor, of Guy's

Hospital, who does not think that Klein's experiment would cause

severe suffering; but of another--placing a frog in cold water and

raising the temperature to about 100 deg.--"that," says Doctor Taylor,

"would be a cruel experiment: I cannot see what purpose it can

answer." Before leaving Guy's Hospital, our inquiring friend meets Dr.

Pavy, one of the most celebrated physiologists in England, who tells

him that in this experiment, stigmatized by his colleague as "cruel,"

the frog would in reality suffer very little; that if we ourselves

were treated to a bath gradually raised from a medium temperature to

the boiling point, "I think we should not feel any pain;" that were we

plunged at once into boiling water, "even then," says the enthusiastic

and scientific Dr. Pavy, "I do not think pain would be experienced!"

Our friend goes then to Dr. Sibson, of St. Mary's Hospital, who as a

physiologist of many years' standing, sees no objection to freezing,

starving, or baking animals alive; but he declares of boiling a frog,

"That is a horrible idea, and I certainly am not going to defend it."

Perplexed more than ever, he goes to Dr. Lister, of King's College,

and is astonished upon being told "that the mere holding of a frog

in your warm hand is about as painful as any experiment probably

that you would perform." Finally, one of the strongest advocates of

vivisections, Dr. Anthony, pupil of Sir Charles Bell, would exclaim,

if a mere exposition of the lungs of the frog were referred to,

"Fond as I am of physiology, I would not do that for the world!"

Now, what has our inquirer learned by his appeal to science? Has

he gained any clear and absolute knowledge? Hardly two of the

experimenters named agree upon one simple yet most important

preliminary of research--_the sensibility to pain of a single species

of animals_.

Let us interrogate scientific opinion a little further on this

question of sensibility. Is there any difference in animals as

regards susceptibility to pain? Dr. Anthony says that we may take

the amount of intelligence in animals as a fair measure of their

sensibility--that the pain one would suffer would be in proportion

to its intelligence. Dr. Rutherford, Edinburgh, never performs an

experiment upon a cat or a spaniel if he can help it, because they are

so exceedingly sensitive; and Dr. Horatio Wood, of Philadelphia, tells

us that the nervous system of a cat is far more sensitive than that of

the rabbit. On the other hand, Dr. Lister, of King's College, is not

aware of any such difference in sensibility in animals, and Dr.

Brunton, of St. Bartholomew's, finds cats such very good animals to

operate with that he on one occasion used ninety in making a single

experiment.

Sir William Gull thinks "there are but few experiments performed on

living creatures where sensation is not removed," yet Dr. Rutherford

admits "about half" his experiments to have been made upon animals

sensitive to pain. Professor Rolleston, of Oxford University, tells

us "the whole question of anaesthetizing animals has an element of

uncertainty"; and Professor Rutherford declares it "impossible to say"

whether even artificial respiration is painful or not, "unless the

animal can speak." Dr. Brunton, of St. Bartholomew's, says of that

most painful experiment, poisoning by strychnine, that it cannot be

efficiently shown if the animal be under chloroform. Dr. Davy, of

Guy's, on the contrary, always gives chloroform, and finds it no

impediment to successful demonstration, Is opium an anaesthetic? Claude

Bernard declares that sensibility exists even though the animal be

motionless: "_Il sent la douleur, mais il a, pour ainsi dire, perdu

l'idee de la defense._"[A] But Dr. Brunton, of St. Bartholomew's

hospital, London, has no hesitation whatever in contradicting this

statement "emphatically, however high an authority it may be."

Curare, a poison invented by South American Indians for their arrows,

is much used in physiological laboratories to paralyze the motor

nerves, rendering an animal absolutely incapable of the slightest

disturbing movement. Does it at the same time destroy sensation, or

is the creature conscious of every pang? Claude Bernard, of Paris,

Sharpey, of London, and Flint, of New York[B] all agree that sensation

is _not_ abolished; on the other hand, Rutherford regards curare as a

partial anaesthetic, and Huxley strongly intimates that Bernard in thus

deciding from experiments that it does not affect the cerebral

hemispheres or consciousness, "_jumped at a conclusion_ for which

neither he nor anybody else had any scientific justification." This

is extraordinary language for one experimentalist to use regarding

others! If it is possible that such men as Claude Bernard and

Professor Flint have "jumped at" one utterly unscientific conclusion,

notwithstanding the most painstaking of vivisections, what security

have we that other of our theories in physiology now regarded as

absolutely established may not be one day as severely ridiculed by

succeeding investigators? Is it, after all, true, that the absolute

certainty of our most important deductions must remain forever hidden

"unless the animal can speak"?

[A] "He feels the pain, but has lost, so to speak, the idea

of self defense." Lecons de Physiologie operatoire, 1879, p.

115.

[B] Text-Book of Human Physiology, p. 595.

II. Between advocating State supervision of painful vivisection, and

proposing with Mr. Bergh the total suppression of all experiments,

painful or otherwise, there is manifestly a very wide distinction.

Unfortunately, the suggestion of any interference whatever invariably

rouses the anger of those most interested--an indignation as

unreasonable, to say the least, as that of the merchant who refuses a

receipt for money just paid to him, on the ground that a request for a

written acknowledgement is a reflection upon his honesty. I cannot see

how otherwise than by State supervision we are to reach abuses which

confessedly exist. Can we trust the sensitiveness and conscience

of every experimenter? Nobody claims this. One of the leading

physiologists in this country, Dr. John C. Dalton, admits "that

vivisection may be, and has been, abused by reckless, unfeeling, or

unskillful persons;" that he himself has witnessed abroad, in a

veterinary institution, operations than which "nothing could be more

shocking." And yet the unspeakable atrocities at Alfort, to which,

apparently, Dr. Dalton alludes, were defended upon the very ground he

occupies to-day in advocating experiments of the modern laboratory and

classroom; for the Academie des Sciences decided that there was "no

occasion to take any notice of complaints; that in the future, as in

the past, vivisectional experiments must be left entirely to the

judgment of scientific men." What seemed "atrocious" to the more

tender-hearted Anglo-Saxon was pronounced entirely justifiable by the

French Academy of Science.

A curious question suggests itself in connection with this point.

There can be little doubt, I think, that the sentiment of compassion

and of sympathy with suffering is more generally diffused among all

classes of Great Britain than elsewhere in Europe; and one cannot help

wondering what our place might be, were it possible to institute any

reliable comparison of national humanity. Should we be found in all

respects as sensitive as the English people? Would indignation and

protest be as quickly and spontaneously evoked among us by a cruel

act? The question may appear an ungracious one, yet it seems to me

there exists some reason why it should be plainly asked. There is a

certain experiment--one of the most excruciating that can be

performed--which consists in exposing the spinal cord of the dog for

the purpose of demonstrating the functions of the spinal nerves. It is

one, by the way, which Dr. Wilder forgot to enumerate in his summary

of the "four kinds of experiments," since it is not the "cutting

operation" which forms its chief peculiarity or to which special

objection would be made. At present all this preliminary process is

generally performed under anaesthetics: it is an hour or two later,

when the animal has partly recovered from the severe shock of the

operation, that the wound is reopened and the experiment begins. It

was during a class demonstration of this kind by Magendie, before

the introduction of ether, that the circumstance occurred which one

hesitates to think possible in a person retaining a single spark of

humanity or pity. "I recall to mind," says Dr. Latour, who was present

at the time, "a poor dog, the roots of whose vertebral nerves Magendie

desired to lay bare to demonstrate Bell's theory, which he claimed as

his own. The dog, mutilated and bleeding twice escaped from under the

implacable knife, and threw its front paws around Magendie's neck,

licking, as if to soften his murderer and ask for mercy! I confess I

was unable to endure that heartrending spectacle."

It was probably in reference to this experiment that Sir Charles Bell,

the greatest English physiologist of our century, writing to his

brother in 1822, informs him that he hesitates to go on with his

investigations. "You may think me silly," he adds, "but I cannot

perfectly convince myself that I am authorized in nature or religion

to do these cruelties." Now, what do English physiologists and

vivisectors of the present day think of the repetition of this

experiment solely as a class demonstration?

They have candidly expressed their opinions before a royal commission.

Dr. David Ferrier, of King's college, noted for his experiments upon

the brain of monkeys, affirms his belief that "students would rebel"

at the sight of a painful experiment. Dr. Rutherford, who certainly

dared do all that may become a physiologist, confesses mournfully,

"_I dare not_ show an experiment upon a dog or rabbit before students,

when the animal is not anaesthetized." Dr. Pavy, of Guy's Hospital,

asserts that a painful experiment introduced before a class "would not

be tolerated for a moment." Sir William Gull, M. D., believes that the

repetition of an operation like this upon the spinal nerves would

excite the reprobation alike of teacher, pupils, and the public at

large. Michael Foster, of Cambridge University, who minutely describes

all the details of the experiment on recurrent sensibility in the

"Handbook for the Physiological Laboratory," nevertheless tells

us, "I have not performed it, and have never seen it done," partly,

as he confesses, "from horror at the pain." And finally Dr.

Burdon-Sanderson, physiologist at University College, London, states

with the utmost emphasis, in regard to the performance of this

demonstration on the spinal cord, "I am perfectly certain that no

physiologist--none of the leading men in Germany, for example--would

exhibit an experiment of that kind."

Now mark the contrast. This experiment--which we are told passes even

the callousness of Germany to repeat; which every leading champion of

vivisection in Great Britain reprobates for medical teaching; which

some of them shrink even from seeing, themselves, from horror at the

tortures necessarily inflicted; which the most ruthless among them

_dare not_ exhibit to the young men of England,--_this experiment has

been performed publicly again and again in American medical colleges_,

without exciting, so far as we know, even a whisper of protest or the

faintest murmur of remonstrance! The proof is to be found in the

published statements of the experimenter himself. In his "Text-Book

of Physiology," Professor Flint says, "Magendie showed very

satisfactorily that the posterior roots (of the spinal cord) were

exclusively sensory, and this fact has been confirmed by more recent

observations upon the higher classes of animals. We have ourselves

frequently exposed and irritated the roots of the nerves in dogs, _in

public demonstrations_ in experiments on the recurrent sensibility,

... and in another series of observations."[A]

[A] "A Text-Book of Human Physiology." By Austin Flint, Jr.

M. D. New York, 1876. Page 589; see also page 674.

This is the experience of a single professional teacher; but it is

improbable that this experiment has been shown only to the students of

a single medical college in the United States; it has doubtless been

repeated again and again in different colleges throughout the country.

If Englishmen are, then, so extremely sensitive as Ferrier, Gull, and

Burdon-Sanderson would have us believe, we must necessarily conclude

that the sentiment of compassion is far greater in Britain than in

America. Have we drifted backward in humanity? Have American students

learned to witness, without protest, tortures at the sight of which

English students would rebel? We are told that there is no need of any

public sensitiveness on this subject. We should trust entirely, as

they do in France,--at Alfort, for example,--"to the judgment of the

investigator." There must be no lifting of the veil to the outside

multitude; for the priests of this unpitying science there must be as

absolute immunity from criticism or inquiry as was ever demanded

before the shrine of Delphi or the altars of Baal. "Let them exercise

their solemn office," demands Dr. Wilder, "not only unrestrained by

law, but upheld by public sentiment."

For myself, I cannot believe this position is tenable. Nothing seems

to me more certain than the results that must follow if popular

sentiment in this country shall knowingly sustain the public

demonstration of an experiments in pain, which can find no defender

among the physiologists of Great Britain. It has been my fortune to

know something of the large hospitals of Europe; and I confess I do

not know a single one in countries where painful vivisection

flourishes, unchecked by law, wherein the poor and needy sick are

treated with the sympathy, the delicacy, or even the decency, which so

universally characterize the hospitals of England. When Magendie,

operating for cataract, plunged his needle to the bottom of his

patient's eye, that he might note upon a human being the effect

produced by mechanical irritation of the retina, he demonstrated how

greatly the zeal of the enthusiast may impair the responsibility of

the physician and the sympathy of man for man.

III. The utility of vivisection in advancing therapeutics, despite

much argument, still remains an open question. No one is so foolish as

to deny the possibility of future usefulness to any discovery

whatever; but there is a distinction, very easily slurred over in the

eagerness of debate, between present applicability and remotely

potential service. If the pains inflicted on animals are absolutely

necessary to the protection of human life and the advancement of

practical skill in medicine, should sentiment be permitted to check

investigation? An English prelate, the Bishop of Peterborough,

speaking in Parliament on this subject, once told the House of Lords

that "it was very difficult to decide what was unnecessary pain," and

as an example of the perplexities which arose in his own mind he

mentioned "the case of the wretched man who was convicted of skinning

cats alive, because their skins were more valuable when taken from the

living animal than from the dead one. The extra money," added the

Bishop, "got the man a dinner!"[A] Whether in this particular case the

excuse was well received by the judge, the reverend prelate neglected

to inform us; but it is certain that the plea for painful

experimentation rests substantially on the same basis. Out of the

agonies of sentient brutes we are to pluck the secret of longer living

and the art of surer triumph over intractable disease.

[A] See Hansard's Parliamentary Debates, June 20, 1876.

But has this hope been fulfilled? Pasteur, we are told, has claimed

the discovery of a cure for hydrophobia through experiments on

animals. It may be well worth its cost if only true; but we cannot

forget that its practical value is by no means yet demonstrated. Aside

from this, has physiological experimentation during the last quarter

of a century contributed such marked improvements in therapeutic

methods that we find certain and tangible evidence thereof in the

diminishing fatality of any disease? Can one mention a single malady

which thirty years ago resisted every remedial effort, to which the

more enlightened science of to-day can offer hopes of recovery? These

seem to me perfectly legitimate and fair questions, and, fortunately,

in one respect, capable of a scientific reply. I suppose the opinion

of the late Claude Bernard, of Paris, would be generally accepted as

that of the highest scientific authority on the utility of vivisection

in "practical medicine;" but he tells us that it is hardly worth while

to make the inquiry. "Without doubt," he confessed, "_our hands are

empty to-day_, although our mouths are full of legitimate promises for

the future."

Was Claude Bernard correct in this opinion as to the "empty hands?"

If scientific evidence is worth anything, it points to the appalling

conclusion that, _notwithstanding all the researches of physiology,

the chief forms of chronic disease exhibit to-day in England a greater

fatality than thirty years ago_. In the following table I have

indicated the average annual mortality, per million inhabitants, of

certain diseases, _first_, for the period of five years from 1850 to

1854, and _secondly_, for the period twenty-five years later, from

1875 to 1879. The authority is beyond question; the facts are

collected from the report to Parliament of the Registrar-general

of England:

_Average Annual Rate of Mortality in England,

from Causes of Death, per One Million Inhabitants._

----------------------------------+---------------+---------------

| During | During

NAME OF DISEASE. | Five Years, | Five Years,

| 1850-54. | 1875-79.

----------------------------------+---------------+---------------

Gout, | 12 | 25

Aneurism, | 16 | 32

Diabetes, | 23 | 41

Insanity, | 29 | 57

Syphilis, | 37 | 86

Epilepsy, | 105 | 119

Bright's disease, | 32 | 182

Kidney disease, | 94 | 114

Brain disease, | 192 | 281

Liver disease, | 215 | 291

Heart disease, | 651 | 1,335

Cancer, | 302 | 492

Paralysis, | 440 | 501

Apoplexy, | 454 | 552

Tubercular diseases and diseases | |

of the Respiratory Organs, | 6,424 | 6,886

----------------------------------+---------------+---------------

Mortality from above diseases: | 9,026 | 10,994

----------------------------------+---------------+---------------

This is certainly a most startling exhibit, when we remember that from

only these few causes about half of _all_ the deaths in England

annually occur, and that from them result the deaths of two-thirds of

the persons, of both sexes, who reach the age of twenty years.[A] What

are the effects here discernible of Bernard's experiments upon

diabetes? of Brown-Sequard's upon epilepsy and paralysis? of Flint's

and Pavy's on diseases of the liver? of Ferrier's researches upon the

functions of the brain? Let us appeal from the heated enthusiasm of

the experimenter to the stern facts of the statistician. Why, so far

from having obtained the least mastery over those malignant forces

which seem forever to elude and baffle our art, they are actually

gaining upon us; every one of these forms of disease is more fatal

to-day in England than thirty years ago; during 1879 over sixty

thousand _more_ deaths resulted from these maladies alone than would

have occurred had the rate of mortality from them been simply that

which prevailed during the benighted period of 1850 to 1854! True,

during later years there has been a diminished mortality in England,

but it is from the lesser prevalence of zymotic diseases, which no one

to-day pretends to cure; while the organic diseases show a constant

tendency to increase. Part of this may be due to more accurate

diagnosis and clearer definition of mortality causes: but this will

not explain a phenomenon which is too evident to be overlooked.

[A] In 1879 the total mortality in England, above the age of

twenty, from _all causes_ whatsoever, was 287,093. Of these

deaths, the number occasioned by the sixteen causes above

named, was 191,706, or almost exactly two-thirds.

"It is a fact," says the Registrar-general, in his report for 1879,

"that while mortality in early life has been very notably diminished,

_the mortality of persons in middle or advanced life has been steadily

rising for a long period of years_." It is probable that the same

story would be told by the records of France, Germany, and other

European countries; it is useless, of course, to refer to America,

since in regard to statistical information we still lag behind every

country which pretends to be civilized.[A] Undoubtedly it would be a

false assumption which from these facts should deduce retrogression

in medical art or deny advance and improvement; but they certainly

indicate that the boasted superiority of modern medicine over the

skill of our fathers, due to physiological researches, is not

sustained by the only impartial authority to which science can appeal

for evidence of results.

[A] Even Japan, a country we are apt to consider as somewhat

benighted, has far better statistical information at hand

than the United States of America.

* * * * *

What then is the substance of the whole matter? It seems to me the

following conclusions are justified by the facts presented.

I. All experiments upon living animals may be divided into two general

classes; 1st those which produce pain,--slight, brief, severe or

atrociously acute and prolonged; and 2nd, those experiments which are

performed under complete anaesthesia from which either death ensues

during unconsciousness, or entire recovery may follow.

II. The majority of vivisections requisite for purposes of teaching

physiological facts _may_ be so carried on as to take life with less

pain or inconvenience to the animal than is absolutely necessary in

order to furnish meat for our tables. Those who would make it a penal

offense to submit to a class of college students the unconscious and

painless demonstration of functional activity of the heart, for

example, and yet demand for the gratification of appetite the daily

slaughter of oxen and sheep without anaesthetics, and without any

attempt to minimize the agony of terror, fear and pain--may not be

inconsistent. But it is a view the writer cannot share.

III. Prohibition of all experiments may be fairly demanded by those

who believe that the enthusiastic ardor of the scientific experimenter

or lecturer, will outweigh all considerations of good faith, provided

success or failure of his experiment depend on the consciousness of

pain. In other words, that the experimenter himself, as a rule,

_cannot be trusted to obey the law, should the law restrict_.

This also is an extreme position.

IV. Absolute liberty in the matter of painful experiments has produced

admitted abuses by physiologists of Germany, France and Italy. In

America it has led to the repetition before classes of students of

Magendie's extreme cruelties,--demonstrations which have been

condemned by every leading English physiologist.

V. In view of the dangerous impulses not unfrequently awakened by the

sight of pain intentionally inflicted, experiments of this kind should

be by legal enactment absolutely forbidden before classes of students,

especially in our Public Schools.

VI. It is not in accord with scientific accuracy to contend for

unlimited freedom of painful experimentation, on the ground of its

vast utility to humanity in the discovery of new methods for the cure

of disease. On the contrary, so far as can be discovered by a careful

study of English mortality statistics, physiological experiments upon

living animals for fifty years back have in no single instance

lessened the fatality of any disease below its average of thirty-five

years ago.

VII. Vivisection, involving the infliction of pain is, even in its

best possible aspect, a necessary evil, and ought at once to be

restricted within the narrowest limits, and placed under the

supervision of the State.

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