How to Study Medicine. AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE BY DAVID W. CHEKVER, M.D. AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, Delivered before the Medical Class of Harvard University, October 2, 1871 By DAVID W. CIIEEVER, M.D., Adjunct Professor of Clinical Surgery. Gentlemen of the Medical and Dental Schools :— On this eighty-eighth anniversary of the opening of our Medical College, it is my peculiar privilege to welcome you to the old School, with its mode of instruction re- formed, amplified, systematized, made pro- gressive. Here in America nothing is allowed to grow old. Change, and that change often progress, attacks every art, every calling, every institution. As the human body is itself subjected to a constant interchange of atoms, and dies at last through incessant use, so the art of medicine changes season by season ; is modified by fashion, or the progress of the sister sciences. The medi- cal knowledge and the medical practice of to-day are not those of twenty years ago ; neither should the medical education of to- day be that of former years. With no abatement of deference and of gratitude for all that the Medical Depart- ment of Harvard University has taught us in the past, it is not assumption to hope that its progress in the future will be still more marked. For in this ancient and sta- ble University there has come to pass a change in medical education, more radical, more thorough, and, as we believe, more beneficial in its effects on the future of our profession, than any other since the founda- tion of our college. When, seventeen years ago, I sat upon these benches as a medical student at my first course of Lectures, how well I remem- ber my confusion as to what I had better do. Aghast at the multitude of subjects of study ; overwhelmed by the numerous lec- tures poured into my ears each hour by a fresh professor ; with no one to guide, no rule to follow, no law. of selection to con- sult, no classification of terms, or years or capabilities whatever, what wonder that we all underwent a mental surfeit, whose con- sequences tortured our future rest with a nightmare of unassimilated knowledge! Four busy months the course went on with unabated ardor, and then the bulk of the class dispersed, to follow out, with intermit- tent and languid diligence, their studies during the remainder of the year. The first year’s student pursued here the same stu- dies as the third year’s one; and if he finally learned what branches to select, it was only at the expense of many wasted weeks, or months. Any one department of medicine, as anatomy for instance, crowds the beginner with such a mass of isolated facts, that it is several years before he can assort and generalize them for use. But the unfortu- nate student of former times had all de- partments thrust upon him, at once, to choose from without a guide, and to con- fuse him with their multifarious details. The changes in the mode of instruction tb which all new students who enter for our medical degree will be subjected, and in which we cordially invite all students who have partially completed their studies, here or elsewhere, to join, are chiefly these:— Instruction will be uniform and continu- ous throughout the entire year ; and pro- gressive throughout three years. Studies and students will be classified, and divided into a three years course. Examinations will be distributed through- out the three years. The mode of teaching will be more de- monstrative, practical and experimental, and less didactic, than formerly. Lectures, recitations and practical exer- cises will, as heretofore, all be used as modes of instruction. But the proportion of recitations to lectures will be larger than before; while demonstrative and experi- mental study, in the Dissecting Room, the Chemical Laboratory, the Microscope Room, the Physiological Laboratory and the Au- topsy Rooms ; and clinical study in the Hospitals and Dispensaries, will be very greatly increased, and supplant, to a certain degree, the college lecture rooms. This is not the hour in which to discuss the merits of demonstrative and experimen- tal as compared with didactic instruction ; clinical teaching with prepared and syste- matic lectures ; or recitations, in which the student takes the active part, with lectures ex cathedra, where he merely listens and re- ceives ideas. There can be but little doubt that what we do is fixed by the doing more firmly in the memory, than what we see others do ; that what we see makes more impression than what we hear; that what we learn to express in our own language is retained better, than what we are taught by listening to others. To assure this advantage of the demon- stration, the experiment, the clinical study and the recitation over the lecture, it is es- sential that all the class take active part in those exercises. And this they will be ex- pected to do, since every student will have his place and time in the anatomical, physio- logical. and chemical laboratories, and in the microscope room ; and laboratory work will be as much required of him as attend- ance at lectures. We would, however, by no means do away with the old lecture system. The lecture brings the teacher face to face with the whole class ; gives a living significance to the dry teaching of medical treatises ; enables the lecturer to select only those parts of written medicine which are valua- ble ; and to add and enforce much practi- cal wisdom that is not found in books. We intend, therefore, to offer you full courses of lectures on all those subjects which cannot be made wholly demonstra- tive, or experimental; and some of which, as the anatomical,- surgical and pathologi- cal departments, possess a wealth of illus- tration in plates, preparations and cabinet specimens. It is sufficient for me, in these few pre- fatory remarks, to have glanced at the changes with which you will become fa- miliar as the term goes on : and addressing j myself now to the new members of our medical class, I propose to answer the first question which every student puts to his teacher, How to Study Medicine? A preliminary education is the first re- quisite. For the mind which has lain fal- low during the impressionable years of youth is ill adapted to c.akc4*»,; .eas. It is sluggish to learn, tardy to acquire, and does not know how to use its faculties, although its memory may be retentive and its powers of observation acute. As a rule, men beginning a profession under the draw- back of want of training do not arrive at distinction. It is rare to step directly from the plough or the workbench to professional eminence. Such cases are instances of genius, which would rise to the surface in spite of any obstacles^ The average mind, then, needs culture and training before beginning to study medi- cine. This preliminary education, however, need not be either academic, or collegiate. In fact, the strictly classical courses of many colleges are ill adapted to prepare the mind for medicine. In our profession two qualities are espe- cially needful, a quick perception and a well-balanced mind. Observation and judg- ment constitute the true physician. No other learning can compensate for the lack of these ; and with these, a relatively igno- rant man will succeed. We cannot read the sick by book-knowledge ; we must study them as children learn, by observation. The diagnosis and the treatment of disease are a balance of probabilities, and cannot be successfully carried out without judgment, or common sense. Whatever studies, then, cultivate the perception and the judgment constitute the best preliminary education for the medical profession. The natural sciences, chemis- try, physics, natural history, mathematics, educate these faculties more than lan- guages, literature or history ; for the latter are better adapted to fluent speech, good memory and elegant tastes. The classics, however, are not to be thrown aside ; since a fair knowledge of Latin and Greek is of inestimable value to the reader of medical literature ; but such modern languages as the French and German, teeming with sci- entific research and medical publications, are, beyond doubt, the most directly useful to the physician. Scientific schools, and schools of tech- nology supply the kind of preliminary know- ledge the medical student needs. The academic department of our own University has been so far modified, of late, as to very well meet these require- ments. But such is not the case in the undergraduate curriculum of most other colleges. The natural sciences, the dead languages to a certain degree, and the modern lan- guages are, then, to be especially cultivated 3 by the j who means to study medi- cine. Professional Studies. We come now to the professional studies ; the point at which you have arrived, who sit here for the first time. The profession of medicine embraces both a Science and an Art. A Science, based on certain fixed and definite branches of knowledge, as Chemis- try, Anatomy, Physiology, Pathology. An Art, consisting in the application of this knowledge to the treatment of disease, in the practice of Medicine, Surgery and Obstetrics. In the purely scientific parts of medicine lie its only fixed principles and immutable laws. All else is changeable, uncertain, subject to modification from advancing sci- entific knowledge, and even from caprice. He therefore who would build the super- structure of his profession on a sound basis can only do so by a profound acquaintance with Chemistry, Anatomy, Physiology and Pathology. These constitute his earliest studies ; and to three of them his first year’s course is limited. Chemistry. Chemistry is the science of the funda- mental structure of both the inorganic and organic worlds. Anatomy deals with com- pound bodies, though they be but atoms; chemistry deals with the ultimate elements of matter. It is the farthest depth to which we can conduct material investigations into the arcana of nature. Chemistry concerns man both in his own structure and in everything that surrounds him ; both in the discharge of his vital functions and in the changes of his body after death. To seek to know the human body in health, or to minister to it in dis- ease, without chemical knowledge of its composition, or its forces, is to be merely a sciolist. There was no chemical knowledge of oxygen, carbonic acid and the changes in respiration in the middle ages, and the smallpox patient of that time was shut up in a room with closely-drawn red curtains, the windows battened and the keyholes stopped ; while those who had the miliary fever, or sweating sickness—a disease ob- solete now—were put between two feather beds, and overlaid, until many expired in great agony.* It is not too much to say that chemistry deserves the credit of a very large propor- tion of the advances in the medical know- ledge and practice of late years. Its re- form of our pharmacopoeia has been equally radical, and startlingto old authorities. Inert and incompatible remedies have been dis- solved by it into their naked uselessness; the active principles of drugs have been eliminated from their crude and bulky en- velopes of wood and bark, mucilage and fibre. The nurse’s dogma, and even the poor Indian, have been pushed aside in its relentless progress. It is chemistry, and not homoeopathy, which has dissolved the nauseous dose into the minute and cleanly alkaloid ; reduced the bulk of remedies, and taught the abuse of drugs. This science is eminently one of experi- ment. It advances by questioning nature. It is to be learned by practical work in the laboratory, more than by lectures ; the latter serving either to condense and reca- pitulate previous knowledge, or to illus- trate, on a large scale, the effects of re- agents on each other. Your first months of study should be passed in learning gene- ral chemistry at your desk in the laboratory, with reagents, blowpipe and test-tube. In the basement story we have now arranged ample facilities for the practical pursuit of chemistry, where one hundred desks, with apparatus, have been prepared for the use of the class. Anatomy. Anatomy, the cutting apart or dissecting of organized beings to learn how and of what they are made, is the most direct and fundamental, though it was not the earliest mode of understanding the human frame. Oracles, spiritualists, augurs, seers, priestly jugglers were the first authorities in medi- cal matters; while Aristotle or Galen were still permitted to dissect only horses or dogs. The self-sacrifice of Vesalius and other noble martyrs of anatomical science, and, among others, the life-long labors of Hunter, finally accumulated such a mass of informa- tion, and so conclusively proved its value, that the world got habituated to dissections, and allowed them to be peaceably pursued. Here in Massachusetts, the enlightened public opinion of the Commonwealth has legalized the practice of human dissection ; a credit not yet shared, we regret to say, by many others of the United States. It would be an idle abuse of our time to delay you with an explanation of the car- dinal importance of anatomy to the medical student. The fact is self evident that this science is the very foundation of all his * Ileckcr’s “Epidemics of the Middle Ages.” other knowledge. It is, too, an exact and assured science ; capable of demonstration ; unchanged in its essentials for years past; occasionally altered in nomenclature and enlarged by new facts, but never losing a single approved truth, as laid bare by the scalpel. Its changes have been chiefly those of histology; while its grosser facts remain as fresh as in the days of Albinus. It is equally capable of proof how di- rectly surgery springs from, and is depend- ent on, anatomy. Surgical diagnosis is, to a great degree, anatomy applied; surgical operations are dissections on the living sub- ject. Of this one fact you may be quite sure, that no man ever was an eminent sur- geon who was not a good anatomist; and, also, that no surgeon was ever a good ope- rator without having been first a neat dis- sector. The pains-taking, conscientious student who haunts the dissecting room in his leisure hours, to watch others if not to work himself, is, in nine cases out of ten, the one who becomes a good surgeon or a good physician. To neglect anatomy is to throw away everything. It should occupy all the time that you can possibly devote to it. Fortunate if you have already ac- quired a sufficient knowledge of general chemistry, before coming to the' medical school, to enable you to give all your first year to anatomy, and its directly related science, physiology. Of the dire effects of the lack of anatomi- cal knowledge in the surgeon, hear John Bell “ If a surgeon, ignorant of the parts of the human body, should be called to per- form even an established and regular ope- ration, which he has often seen performed, how must he tremble at the thoughts of what he has to do ! Acting only as he has seen others act, he is interrupted, startled, perplexed, with every new occurrence. He has foreseen nothing, provided for no acci- dent, and every accident alarms him. He moves timorously onwards, like a blind man who walks with an air of confidence on an accustomed read, but when any new object presents itself, or the road is changed, is bewildered and lost. “ We see untaught men operating upon their fellow-creatures in cases of life and death without the slightest knowledge of the anatomy of the parts, much less any right ideas of their conditions, and new re- lations to each other in the state of disease. “ But such operators are seen agitated, miserable, trembling—-hesitating in the midst of difficulties—turning round to their friends for that support which should come 1 from within—feeling in thr a _,r things 1 they do not understand—holding consulta- tions amid the cries of the patient; and thus, while they are making ungenerous struggles to gain a false reputation, they are incurring reproaches which attend them throxigh life.” You must take the knife into your own hand if you want to learn and remember anatomy. There is no royal road to this knowledge. Lectures, recitations, plates, books, all assist, but none can .take the place of the dead body, in pursuing this science. * You must dissect con amove; and, strange as this may sound to you, you will find it, in a few weeks, a fascinat- ing pursuit. The marvellous machinery of life which you unfold layer by layer; the ideas you will receive ; the analogies, not only to the rest of organic nature, but even to all the nicer mechanical laws and appli- ances ; the pleasure of manipulating and seeing for yourself all that you have read in books ; the combination of bodily and men- tal occupation, and the stimulus of the oc- casional discovery of anomalies and varia- tions, all will lead you on, until you will find that nowhere do the hours fly so fast as in the dissecting room, and to no hours will you look back with a greater pleasure or satisfaction. An experience of eight years as demon- strator has taught me—and you will see in the preface of my predecessor’s Manual of Dissections that he shares the same views— that systematic treatises, illustrated dissect- ors, or plates, are a positive evil while dis- secting. One simple book of dissections, like Harrison’s, or Hodges’s, or Ellis’s De- monstrations, is all that is best. Plates distract your attention from the dead subject; lead you to anticipate na- ture, and deceive you into thinking you have mastered the points thus illustrated, before you really know them. The whole subject-matter of your morning’s or eve- ning’s dissection should be thoroughly “ read up” before you enter the dissecting room ; you must anticipate mentally what you are going to find under each covering of cellular tissue or fascia, and not turn to the book to see what it is after you have laid it bare. The mind must go before the eye, and the eye before the knife. Thus doing, you will find the country-lad, with his single worn copy of Wilson, surpass in anatomical knowledge him who pursues a more indolent course of dissections with the text-book of Bray and the plates of Bourgery. The anatomical lecture is a daily lesson of extt\ uc, It condenses and illus- trates by housand analogies, diagrams or specimens, all that you labor out by yourselves. It explains to you, also, very many parts of anatomy that you cannot dissect. By no means neglect to follow it diligently ; but also read, recite, and, above all, dissect, if you wish to know anatomy. Recitations held over the dissected sub- ject have seemed to me to fill a very useful place since I introduced them here some ten years ago. And you will find them con- tinued now, even more fully than before. As much time as you can spare must also be given to the microscope. It is in this direction that anatomical and pathological science are now making their chief advances. Fortunately the cost of these instruments is now reduced, so that the majority of students can afford to own one. Finally, there is regional, or surgical ana- tomy, which is yet another department of this science. This you will learn in your second year. By it you are taught to mass your anatomical details into regions or groups, just as they exist in nature ; as, for instance, in the anatomy of the neck, the axilla, or the groin. This is the form of anatomy you will use and mentally refer to, in the actual practice of your profession. Physiology. We now pass on to the remaining study of the first year, viz., Physiology. By this we mean the study of the functions of the body in health ; as anatomy was the study of its structure. Physiology, comparatively a modern sci- ence, has made great advances of late years, and is still in a transition state. As influencing and correcting the practice of medicine it is the most important of either the departments. Without the truths which it has taught us of the func- tions of different organs in health, in dis- ease and under the influence of various medicinal agents, the science and practice of medicine would sink back a century. The physiological effect of various le- sions and the physiological action of drugs, are the modes of studying this department most directly conducive to practical results. Experiments have also often been verified by the absence or modification of certain functions in disease. We may all of us conduct a series of harmless experiments on ourselves in health. By Dr. Hammond in this country, and by numerous experi- menters abroad, very useful results have been arrived at in this way. Physiology is learned, like chemistry, only by experiment. It is to be pursued in a laboratory, and chiefly by experiments on the lower animals. The study by vivisec- tion of the humbler members of the animal kingdom appears a very cruel one. And so it may, thoughtlessly, be made. We depre- cate unnecessary repetitions of experiments; carelessness in causing pain, or consecutive mutilations of the same animal. But for the necessity and propriety of physiological vivi- sections, poisonings and medications of the lower animals, we would put in an earnest plea. By this path alone can therapeutics ad- vance in certain knowledge. Experiments on the vital functions, and on the action of drugs are of the last importance to the well-being of man. We do not hesitate to use the lower animals for food. Why should we not use them to teach us to avoid pain, or disease ? A swarm of insects would be ruthlessly destroyed that one man might sleep. Are a hundred or a thousand batra- chian lives to be counted in the balance of human suffering? Most opportunely, at the very time when we were obliged to look around for some way of teaching physiology in accordance with the new system of study, the thought- ful benefaction of one of your number, re- cently deceased—Dr. George Woodbury Swett—has given us the means to fit up a physiological laboratory, with microscope- rooms adjoining, in the upper story of this building. Physiology may be advantageously fol- lowed, not only throughout the whole course, but even in the earlier years of practice. Experiments on one’s self, espe- cially in diet, regimen, or the taking of drugs, may often be carried on without in- terrupting the business of life. In no sci- ence does it hold so true that the student, of to-day, is the discoverer, of to-morrow. Pathology. Fourth and last of the group of pure sci- ences is Pathology: the study of the changes in the organs produced by disease ; or, as it has been appropriately called, morbid, anatomy. This is the only sound basis for the study of the natural history of organic disease, and is the final test of diagnosis. The facilities for making autopsies are but grudgingly allowed by the general public. We cannot hope, under our form of government, for those far-reaching sci- entific edicts which enable a despotism to regulate the disposal of its subjects’ re- mains as strictly as it regulates their lives. Popular prejudice and public opinion are sad stumbling blocks to be overcome. You will, during your student years, have better facilities for pursuing pathology than you can enjoy in after life. Let me urge you, then, never to neglect going to an autopsy. You will realize ten years hence, when settled, perhaps in a community that will rarely permit them, how great a boon a post-mortem examina- tion of an obscure case would be to you. You will, I regret to say, see such exami- nations sometimes made in an imperfect manner through ignorance.’ You will even see the course of justice rendered uncer- tain by the incongruous results of coroners’ inquests conducted by incompetent men. As soon as you have acquired sufficient knowledge of healthy anatomy to appre- ciate morbid changes, frequent the autopsy room of the hospitals. Learn how to make an autopsy patiently and thoroughly. Fol- low out the case with care. Compare its past symptoms \ oe enjoyed, a year or two abroad ™ely valuable. It enables you to p. j one or more special branches farther than you can in this country. Your medical education, so far from being fin- ished, is only begun when you get your degree. We all regard ourselves as fellow- students of a science to be followed through life. And when that eventful hour has come that you begin your career as a doctor, what more is needed ? Practice, certainly ; and it will be slow to come. Earlier in the country village than in the town ; earlier in the town than in the city ; while in a metropolis like London, an average life- time is two-thirds spent before the harvest season can be reached. Slow enough and hard enough anywhere ; yet, if you perse- vere, it will come at last. But whether in your earlier and poorer, or your later and successful years, you will need something more than practice. Medicine is not a trade, and if you make it one you will bitterly repent it. It is not a calling in which to grow rich. It can never command the enormous income of the eminent lawyer, even when the practice lies in a large- and wealthy community ; while the ventures and receipts of business men dwarf our year’s earnings by one happy speculation, or one large sale. If you seek for wealth you have mistaken your avocation. The majority of you will earn a respectable livelihood, after from five to ten years of waiting and poverty. Add to this delay the outlay of your educa- tion, and the return for your investment will be very small. Whatever your success, you will abso- lutely want something more to make your profession even tolerable to you. Bear in mind that ours is the most laborious and wearisome of callings ; the slowest to rise; the easiest overthrown by ill reports; dependent on the caprice of wo- men ; subjected to the indignities of doubt and rejection by patients ; full of responsi- bilities, which grow the faster as yom as- cend the social scale. The Doctor is the bearer of other people’s burdens ; the con- fidant and adviser in other people’s sins and woes; the anxious watcher, whose mind is never free from a round of sick cases; the man who can never be his own master. For years, while you still trudge on foot, you will be covered with the dust of the charlatan, who rolls by you in his chariot. For years after you have begun to lose a little, week by week, of the buoyancy of youth, you shall be stigmatized as “ such a very young man !” The older you grow, the harder you shall work ; and your ofnce- bell shall never cease to call you until your ears are closed in death. For your hands will be reserved tasks before which a sca- venger would recoil. For you, other peo- ple’s sufferings shall be constantly your own. Your cruel calling shall compel you secretly to watch the progress of hopeless disease, while you must sustain hope till the last. You must not only witness the sad partings of death, but on you will de- volve the duty of telling friends or patients that all chance of life is past. To you, in your rides, shall come home that terrible question, after a sudden and unexpected fatal result, “could 1 have known more, or done more ?” To you may sometimes come the harder reflections of friends, that you mistook the case. And to you it shall often happen, after success has crowned your efforts, and your patient has got well against hope, to meet with the lowest in- gratitude, and to have your bill disputed in the end. In spite of all this, the tide of students never ceases, and the profession is crowded with young doctors, year after year. What feeling calls them ? \Yhat sentiment can sustain them in after life ? Money is not to be largely got. Practice alone is not enough. There must be something more, and some- thing higher. That something is a loveof your profession; a passion for science for its own sake; a broad humanity, which covers all the sick with a mantle of charity. Hold fast to that love and that science, if you would not sink from weariness in your earlier years, or find the fruits of success but chaff, in your old age. Never lose sight of that motive, for if it once takes flight, your profession is reduced to a trade, and there is absolutely nothing left. As long as you can keep alive the sacred flame of this early passion which first called you to embrace the medical profession, so long shall you be warmed, sustained, upheld amid disappointment, unjust treatment or reverses. In the admirable introductory address, delivered here one year ago by the Adjunct Professor of Chemistry, many of the changes were foreshadowed which have since come to pass in this school. The key-note was struck then, which brought all the wander- ing strains of opinion on reform and advance in education, into one accord. This Faculty, in listening to what they believe to be the need of the times, have adopted those changes, and made them as thorough as they can do, now. Foreseeing that they have done so, probably, at the risk of a loss in the number of their stu- dents, for the time, at least, they cannot be accused of having taken up this new sys- tem with any expectation of individual benefit, but quite the reverse. For it can- not be too plainly stated, that this depart- ment of Harvard University is not endowed; and that a sufficient amount of receipts from the classes, to meet its current ex- penses, is indispensable to its existence as a medical school. The Faculty have initiated these advances in medical education because they believe them right, and proper, and demanded. Because they, an* every t a in this room, can see, that the position ot’ our no- ble profession in the community of to-day is not what it should be, and not what it was fifty years ago. That there is a lower standard of respect and of knowledge creep- ing in ; that quackeries increase ; and that one Doctor is thought as good as another, because a Degree, in America, can be too easily acquired. We believe that there is but one remedy. To RAISE THE STANDARD OF MEDICAL EDU- CATION is the only way to recover the posi- tion which our Fathers held, and which we should retain.