Then there was Dr. Baly, with his round head, and a face that would cheer any man who had still an hour to live. He was a true man, and had all the medical science of the day at his command. But, even more than this, he knew how to manage the sick, how to give them every advantage that tact could devise; in a word, how to save a life if that life was to be saved.
One more, the one whose name among anatomists is the most enduring of all: Dr. Robert Lee. He discovered a new nervous system when anatomy was held to be complete. Some men are a disgrace to society, some societies are a disgrace to men. So was it with the Royal Society in not recognizing Lee’s merit when the Continent was ringing with his name.
These are a few of those whom I knew and esteemed in my day.
Among medical men, I think Stone was the best at anecdote. He might have written another “Gold-headed Cane.” He was fond of his friends, and was hospitable. He enjoyed his profession, his consultations, and he told a story well. As a sample, Dr. ⸺ was called at night to an old lady’s bedside, but was so inebriated as to do little towards ascertaining the state of the case. He retired to the table to prescribe, but he could not; he was too far gone to commit any remedial measures to paper. He tried over and over again, when, in despair, he described his own condition—“D—drunk, by G⸺!” and left. Early on the following day he received a summons to the lady. “Doctor,” said she, “how did you know what was the matter with me? and why were you so imprudent as to commit it to paper?”
Amongst scientific men of the century we have had Faraday, facile princeps—a man who, when he was doing nothing at all, always looked to me as if he was putting something in its place.
Stokes is the only man who has vied with Faraday, and touched Newton in revealing to us the invisible spectrum.
Then there is Tyndall still, an industrious peeper behind the scenes. It was kind of Faraday to leave him his old coat; but no man could wear it—no tailor could ever make it fit another.
And there is Huxley, who is so great in science, not satisfied with the comfort of believing in nothing himself, but he must strive to share the blessing with all—the blessing of believing in nothing but himself.
Then Darwin, who has been able to climb the hill safely, and reach the summit, with Goethe, Oken, Lamarc, and Geoffrey St. Hilaire on his back.
Then there are scientific men almost too great to be mentioned by name. These tell us the sun will wear out within the period they assign. If I saw them, I should suggest that the sun could not lose energy, because its elements are indestructible. If they asked me what I meant, I should reply that when oxygen and carbon produced heat, and lost it to the earth, they could produce just as much heat again, and that for ever.