Two principal arguments may be advanced in its favor.
I. It is undeniable that to the practice of vivisection we are indebted for very much of our present knowledge of physiology. This is the fortress of the advocates of vivisection, and a certain refuge when other arguments are of no avail.
II. As a means of teaching physiological facts, vivisection is unsurpassed. No teacher of science needs to be told the vast superiority of demonstration over affirmation. Take for instance, the circulation of the blood. The student who displays but a languid interest in statements of fact, or even in the best delineations and charts obtainable, will be thoroughly aroused by seeing the process actually before his eyes. A week's study upon the book will less certainly be retained in his memory than a single view of the opened thorax of a frog or dog. There before him is the throbbing heart; he sees its relations to adjoining structures, and marks, with a wonder he never before knew, that mystery of life by which the heart, even though excised from the body, does not cease for a time its rhythmic beat. To imagine, then, that teachers of physiology find mere amusement in these operations is the greatest of ignorant mistakes. They deem it desirable that certain facts be accurately fixed in memory, and they know that no system of mnemonics equals for such purpose the demonstration of the function itself.
Just here, however, arises a very important question. Admitting the benefit of the demonstration of scientific facts, how far may one justifiably subject an animal to pain for the purpose of illustrating a point already known? It is merely a question of cost. For instance, it is an undisputed statement in physical science that the diamond is nothing more than a form of crystallized carbon, and, like other forms of carbon, under certain conditions, may be made to burn. Now most of us are entirely willing to accept this, as we do the majority of truths, upon the testimony of scientific men, without making demonstration a requisite of assent. In a certain private school, however, it has long been the custom once a year, to burn in oxygen a small diamond, worth perhaps $30, so as actually to prove to the pupils the assertion of their text-books. The experiment is a brilliant one; no one can doubt its entire success. Nevertheless, we do not furnish diamonds to our public schools for this purpose. Exactly similar to this is one aspect of vivisection—it is a question of cost. Granting all the advantages which follow demonstration of certain physiological facts, the cost is pain—pain sometimes amounting to prolonged and excruciating torture. Is the gain worth this?
Let me mention an instance. Not long ago, in a certain medical college in the State of New York, I saw what Doctor Sharpey, for thirty years the professor of physiology in the University Medical College, London, once characterized by antithesis as "Magendie's infamous experiment," it having been first performed by that eminent physiologist. It was designed to prove that the stomach, although supplied with muscular coats, is during the act of vomiting for the most part passive; and that expulsion of its contents is due to the action of the diaphragm and the larger abdominal muscles. The professor to whom I refer did not propose to have even Magendie's word accepted as an authority on the subject: the fact should be demonstrated again. So an incision in the abdomen of a dog was made; its stomach was cut out; a pig's bladder containing colored water was inserted in its place, an emetic was injected into the veins,—and vomiting ensued. Long before the conclusion of the experiment the animal became conscious, and its cries of suffering were exceedingly painful to hear. Now, granting that this experiment impressed an abstract scientific fact upon the memories of all who saw it, nevertheless it remains significantly true that the fact thus demonstrated had no conceivable relation to the treatment of disease. It is not to-day regarded as conclusive of the theory which, after nearly two hundred repetitions of his experiment, was doubtless considered by Magendie as established beyond question. Doctor Sharpey, a strong advocate of vivisection, by the way, condemned it as a perfectly unjustifiable experiment, since "besides its atrocity, it was really purposeless." Was this repetition of the experiment which I have described worth its cost? Was the gain worth the pain?
Let me instance another and more recent case. Being in Paris a year ago, I went one morning to the College de France, to hear Brown-Sequard, the most eminent experimenter in vivisection now living—one who, Doctor Carpenter tells us, has probably inflicted more animal suffering than any other man in his time. The lecturer stated that injury to certain nervous centers near the base of the brain would produce peculiar and curious phenomena in the animal operated upon, causing it, for example, to keep turning to one side in a circular manner, instead of walking in a straightforward direction. A Guinea-pig was produced—a little creature, about the size of a half-grown kitten—and the operation was effected, accompanied by a series of piercing little squeaks. As foretold, the creature thus injured did immediately perform a "circular" movement. A rabbit was then operated upon with similar results. Lastly, an unfortunate poodle was introduced, its muzzle tied with stout whip-cord, wound round and round so tightly that it must necessarily have caused severe pain. It was forced to walk back and forth on the long table, during which it cast looks on every side, as though seeking a possible avenue of escape. Being fastened in the operating trough, an incision was made to the bone, flaps turned back, an opening made in the skull, and enlarged by breaking away some portions with forceps. During these various processes no attempt whatever was made to cause unconsciousness by means of anæsthetics, and the half-articulate, half-smothered cries of the creature in its agony were terrible to hear, even to one not unaccustomed to vivisections. The experiment was a "success"; the animal after its mutilation did describe certain circular movements. But I cannot help questioning in regard to these demonstrations, did they pay? This experiment had not the slightest relation whatever to the cure of disease. More than this: it teaches us little or nothing in physiology. The most eminent physiologist in this country, Doctor Austin Flint, Jr., admits that experiments of this kind "do not seem to have advanced our positive knowledge of the functions of the nerve centers," and that similar experiments "have been very indefinite in their results." On this occasion, therefore, three animals were subjected to torture to demonstrate an abstract fact, which probably not a single one of the two dozen spectators would have hesitated to take for granted on the word of so great a pathologist as Doctor Brown-Sequard. Was the gain worth the cost?
This, then, is the great question that must eventually be decided by the public. Do humanity and science here indicate diverging roads? On the contrary, I believe it to be an undeniable fact that the highest scientific and medical opinion is against the repetition of painful experiments for class teaching. In 1875, a Royal Commission was appointed in Great Britain to investigate the subject of vivisection, with a view to subsequent legislation. The interests of science were represented by the appointment of Professor Huxley as a member of this commission. Its meetings continued over several months, and the report constitutes a large volume of valuable testimony. The opinions of many of these witnesses are worthy of special attention, from the eminent position to the men who hold them. The physician to the Queen, Sir Thomas Watson, with whose "Lectures on Physic" every medical practitioner in this country is familiar, says: "I hold that no teacher or man of science who by his own previous experiments, * * * has thoroughly satisfied himself of the solution of any physiological problem, is justified in repeating the experiments, however mercifully, to appease the natural curiosity of a class of students or of scientific friends." Sir George Burroughs, President of the Royal College of Physicians, says: "I do not think that an experiment should be repeated over and over again in our medical schools to illustrate what is already established."[3] Sir James Paget, Surgeon Extraordinary to the Queen, said before the commission that "experiments for the purpose of repeating anything already ascertained ought never to be shown to classes." [363.] Sir William Fergusson, F. R. S., also Surgeon to her Majesty, asserted that "sufferings incidental to such operations are protracted in a very shocking manner"; that of such experiments there is "useless repetition," and that "when once a fact which involves cruelty to animals has been fairly recognized and accepted, there is no necessity for a continued repetition." [1019.] Even physiologists—some of them practical experimenters in vivisection—join in condemning these class demonstrations. Dr. William Sharpey, before referred to as a teacher of physiology for over thirty years in University College, says: "Once such facts fully established, I do not think it justifiable to repeat experiments causing pain to animals." [405.] Dr. Rolleston, Professor of Physiology at Oxford, said that "for class demonstrations limitations should undoubtedly be imposed, and those limitations should render illegal painful experiments before classes." [1291.] Charles Darwin, the greatest of living naturalists, stated that he had never either directly or indirectly experimented on animals, and that he regarded a painful experiment without anæsthetics which might be made with anæsthetics as deserving "detestation and abhorrence." [4672.] And finally the report of this commission, to which is attached the name of Professor Huxley, says: "With respect to medical schools, we accept the resolution of the British Association in 1871, that experimentation without the use of anæsthetics is not a fitting exhibition for teaching purposes."
It must be noted that hardly any of these opinions touch the question of vivisection so far as it is done without the infliction of pain, nor object to it as a method of original research; they relate simply to the practice of repeating painful experiments for purposes of physiological teaching. We cannot dismiss them as "sentimental" or unimportant. If painful experiments are necessary for the education of the young physician, how happens it that Watson and Burroughs are ignorant of the fact? If indispensable to the proper training of the surgeon, why are they condemned by Fergusson and Paget? If requisite even to physiology, why denounced by the physiologists of Oxford and London? If necessary to science, why viewed "with abhorrence" by the greatest of modern scientists?
Another objection to vivisection, when practiced as at present without supervision or control, is the undeniable fact that habitual familiarity with the infliction of pain upon animals has a decided tendency to engender a sort of careless indifference regarding suffering. "Vivisection," says Professor Rolleston of Oxford, "is very liable to abuse. * * * It is specially liable to tempt a man into certain carelessness; the passive impressions produced by the sight of suffering growing weaker, while the habit and pleasure of experimenting grows stronger by repetition." [1287.] Says Doctor Elliotson: "I cannot refrain from expressing my horror at the amount of torture which Doctor Brachet inflicted. I hardly think knowledge is worth having at such a purchase."[4] A very striking example of this tendency was brought out in the testimony of a witness before the Royal Commission,—Doctor Klein, a practical physiologist. He admitted frankly that as an investigator he held as entirely indifferent the sufferings of animals subjected to his experiments, that, except for teaching purposes, he never used anæsthetics unless necessary for his own convenience. Some members of the Commission could hardly realize the possibility of such a confession.
"Do you mean you have no regard at all to the sufferings of the lower animals?"