VALEDICTORY ADDRESSES 
COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES 
OF T1IE 
N. 0. SCHOOL OF MEDICINE, 
MARCH 14th, 1869. 
Valedictory on the Part of the Faculty, 
/ , 
V 
By DR. SAMUEL LOGAN, Professor of Surgery. 
Valedictory on the Part of the Class, 
% 
By DR. A. S. GATES. 
NEW ORLEANS: 
PRINTED AT THE “BRONZE PEN” BOOK AND JOB OFFICE, 112 ORAVIER STREET. 
1 868. VALEDICTORY ADDRESSES 
DELIVERED AT THE 
COMMENCEMENT EXERCISES 
OF THE 
N. 0. SCHOOL OF MEDICINE, 
MARCH 14th, 1869. 
Valedictory on the Part of the Faculty, 
By DR. SAMUEL LOGAN, Professor of Surgery, 
Valedictory on the Part of the Class, 
By DR. A. S. G^TES. 
NEW//ORLEANS: 
PRINTED AT THE “BRONZE FEN” BOOK AND JOB OFFICE, 112 GRAYIER STREET, 
1868, ADDRESS OF PROF. LOGAN. 
Iii tlie experience of every human being there are certain epochs 
marked with a peculiar interest; certain prominent points in the 
highway of life where we are apt to pause and wistfully look, or 
try to look into the future, and which must ever stand conspicu- 
ously in view when, in later years, Memory looks back, down the 
vista of the past, and with her magic power conjures up her 
dreamy pictures of the “ days that are no more.” Around these 
points, as around the central figure of a skillful artist, she, too, 
groups her most cherished associations; while over the whole she 
spreads her mystic colors to suit each picture, be it sad or 
gay* 
You have now, gentlemen, reached one of those epochs, one of 
those life-prominences, from which you would lain try to pierce 
the mists of the future and descry something of the path you 
would follow. It is but natural that at such a time you should 
look for the sympathy of your friends, and the kind faces around 
you evince that they, too, appreciate the occasion, and are ready 
to join us, your late teachers, in bidding you a hearty “ God 
speed” upon your journey. We may not hope that it will all prove 
a smooth pathway, bordered throughout with roses, and passing- 
only through the pleasant valleys and by the still waters of life ; 
nor may we fear that it will prove a uniformly harsh and rugged 
road, with nothing to soothe and cheer you by the way. Like 
that pursued by mankind in general it will probably, for each of 
you, have its rugged steeps and its dreary wastes—perchance its 
black clouds and its howling storms; but it will also have its 
smooth and flowing vales, its cool and shady windings. And it 
is well for us that this is all so arranged by a Supreme Wisdom, 
whose laws are thus more kind to us than we, in our shortsighted- 
ness, would be to ourselves. Were there no troubles to overcome 
by manly exertion, and all were calm and clear and smooth in life, 4 
what would man bo ! 'Where would bo each one’s individuality, 
were these necessary elements for that discipline of soul which 
makes the man, withdrawn 1 uSweet are the uses of adversity,” 
is a proposition as full of the deei>est philosophy ns it is of the 
purest religion. Or, i>er contra, were the world nothing but a bar- 
ren and unsatisfactory waste, as it seems to the selfish, ungrateful 
recluse, who deliberately closes his eyes and turns his buck upon 
the blessiugs with which a bounteous and loving Father has en- 
dowed us;—were the world—as some of the nasal ranters of the 
day with equal ingratitude would lugubriously affirm—were the 
world truly photographed by these poor creatures, w hose souls 
must be as lean as their hearts arc empty, what would be our 
wretched state ! Each human being a i*>or drudge, driven along 
by an inexorable, merciless fate, with no will, no motive for soul- 
strengthening exertion; again, no individuality, only one of a 
herd of poor “ dumb-driven cattle,* as Longfellow expresses it, on 
life's highway. Experience, philosophy, and religion all warrant 
us in the prediction that, take what road you may, each traveler 
will have his due allotment of sunshine and of shadow, so proi>or- 
tioned by a wise, benevolent Providence, as is l>est, if rightly 
used by him, for his highest good. As the best w ish our hearts 
can oiler you at this time, we would pray that He w ho governs 
all things will grant you that wisdom which will guide your steps 
aright, and that abiding and loving trust in Him which will sus- 
tain you through all troubles, and finally conduct you safely to 
your eternal home. 
Wo have, hitherto, my young friends, been associated as pupils 
and teachers; hereafter we stand uj»on the same footing. We 
from this day are confreres; and, therefore, while we bid you 
adieu as our pupils, we at the same time would most cordially ex- 
tend to you the right hand of fellowship, and welcome you into 
the ranks of our belo.ved profession. Our duties may separate us 
widely, but in this fellowship we will find a chain which will con- 
nect us through life. It is but natural that those engaged in a 
common pursuit should harbor a common sympathy; and if this 
bean inherent quality in the social instinctsof mankind in general, 
how much purer, wanner and more cordiul should that sympathy 5 
become among those engaged in such a pursuit as that to which 
you now pledge your best exertions 
And can I do better on this occasion than to invite your atten- 
tion, and that of you, ladies and gentlemen, who have kindly lent 
your countenance to these ceremonies, to a brief consideration of 
the nature of that pursuit 
Medicine is the study of Nature in her highest manifestations, 
and the application of that study to the benefit of our species. It 
includes or touches upon almost all science; for man, in his innu- 
merable relations, is more or less connected with all God’s uni- 
verse, and Man and his relations is the object of our study and 
the subject of our labors. You could have selected, gentlemen, no 
pursuit in which you can find a better field for the development of 
the best traits of human character, or a wider scope for the exer- 
cise of human intellect. Humanity in all its phases, including all 
the varieties of its vivid experiences, will appeal to the best syrm 
pathies of your heart, and these, rightly responded to, will neces- 
sarily stimulate the development of all that is truly noble in your 
moral nature j while the richest fields for mental effort invitingly 
spread themselves before you, clothed in a tempting variety ready 
to gratify every kind of taste. 
It is among the suffering and the afflicted that we best learn to 
forget self for others, and that the heart receives its best lessons 
of patience, fortitude, resignation, and all the Christian virtues, 
and is best prompted to the exercise of all those genial sympa- 
thies which should bind together the human family. The man 
who spends his time in the daily practice of our profession, and 
fails to feel his heart enlarged with a deeper charity, as day by 
day he wends his way among the sad, the sorrowing and the 
afflicted—the man who thus feels the very heart-throbs of hu- 
manity, must indeed have something inherently vile in his nature 
if he fail to become a kinder, although a sadder man. It is said, 
ladies and gentlemen, by some superficial observers, that such 
experiences tend rather to harden the sensibilities than to 
strengthen the sympathies of our nature. Such an assertion con- 
tradicts all the social experiences of the civilized world, and is 
opposed to all recognized principles of moral philosophy. There 
is no faculty or trait of character which is not strengthened by 6 
exercise. This is one of those immutable laws which belong to 
the nature of man. It follows, therefore, that he who most exer- 
cises his natural sympathy for suffering, must the more confirm 
and strengthen that trait of character. Wo will grant that be 
who constantly resists and opposes, and represses that sentiment, 
may become, in obedience to the same law, hardened in Ids selfish- 
ness. But let us hope that such cases are the exception, not the 
rule. I would blush for my profession were it otherwise. May 
we not, indeed, claim that there is no class among whom there 
harbors a warmer sentiment of practical catholic benevolence and 
charity than among those whose time and whose thoughts are de- 
voted to the relief of the many “ ills that tlesh is heir to and is 
not Oliver Wendell Holmes correct when he notices the tin t that 
rarely, indeed, in comparison with other classes of men, do we 
And specimens of the lowest phase of humau character among the 
legitimate members of our profession. This delightful writer, not 
very long ago, said that he had failed to find in his experience 
any practicing physician at all suited as a model upon which he 
could construct the character of a “villain doctor.*’ Yes, gentle- 
men, all the associations belonging to the profession you have 
chosen are ennobling to the heart, and must therefore, when 
rightly used, teud to elevate your moral nature. 
And when we review the field for intellectual labor offered to 
its votaries, how rich aud how varied the prospect! Man, with 
all that relates to him, is the object of our stud}'. “ (Jnothi 
HcautonT should be our motto. How comprehensive the sub- 
ject! how inexhaustible the field! The student of our profes- 
sion may well say in even a wider sense than was meant by Te- 
rence when he used the words “Homo Hum; humani nihil a me 
alienum puto.v 
Man and his relations! Here may lie found a field for the 
gratification of every variety of intellectual taste, and no danger 
of satiety, for new wonders and new incentives for further and 
still further study arise at every step in any direction in w hich 
your special taste may lead you. 
Man has been well said by aonid cf the older sages to tie a 
microcosm of the universe. In his nature we find represented, 
not only the material constituents of that universe, but the forces 7 
which operate therein. He is thus a microcosm of the universe, 
but he is something more. lie has that within him which is above 
and beyond all the rest of God’s creation—that incomprehensible, 
mysterious, self-conscious, reasoning soul, which, while it consti- 
tutes the scepter of his power over the rest of creation, at the 
same time binds him in a*conscious dependence on the Great 
Creator, whom we have been thus truly taught to call with be- 
coming reverence, “Our Father.” Can there be found in all 
nature so grand a theme for our contemplation, and speaks not 
the poet well when he says that “ The noblest study of mankind 
is man F No study so elevates the mind towards the Great 
Source of all Truth, or should more tend to bow the soul in hum- 
ble reverence before the footstool of Him “ from whom and ot 
whom are all things, and without whom there is nothing.” 
All seekers after truth are, by the very fact of doing so, brought 
so much the nearer to God, who is truth. The astronomer with 
painstaking zeal collects and collates the phenomena presented by 
the heavenly bodies, calculating their speed, measuring their 
size, tracking them in their far coursing orbits, arranging them in 
their natural systems; and as, reducing his knowledge to law, he 
rises higher and still higher in his grand generalizations, he finds 
himself drawing nearer and yet nearer to Him who “ holds the 
earth as in the hollow of his hand and guides the planets in their 
orbits.” The geologist penetrates the earth’s crust, layer after 
layer, and as he peruses the tabulated recoids of former ages, 
there indelibly preserved, he feels that there also is to be seen, 
far back, ages and ages beyond all recorded time, the same form- 
ing hand which now, as then, gives life and law to all things. The 
chemist penetrates the veil still deeper, and while he watches with 
curious eye the molecular actions which underlie all changes, he 
too feels the Invisible Presence. 
The student of organized nature finds still higher and more in- 
tricate design in every plant or animal whoso structure and whose 
growth he examines. As he studies the anatomy and the phy- 
siology of plant or animal, he finds himself absorbed in the con- 
templation of the Avonderfal powers exhibited by what we call 
life. Led, indeed, by these sciences, we penetrate into the secret 
hiding place of that mysterious agency; and do I hazard too much 8 
in saying that these sciences have found this hiding place, this 
long sought sanctum sanctorum, to foe simply a little microscopic 
cell! May we not affirm that herein resides at least this mystic 
power we call life, even if wo are still constrained to acknowledge 
our absolute inability to detine what it is T A cell—a little micro* 
scopic cell—the parent, the fans et origo of all structure, wlmt is 
it f A simple cell membrane containing a fluid, semifluid, or 
granular material, and generally a nucleus and u nucleolus. And 
this is pretty nearly all wo can see in that wonderful littlo body, 
that mysterious littlo workshop, wherein Nature elaborates her 
grandest and her most curious designs. Lo! a wonder and a 
constantly repeated miracle! In this simple little body resides 
the skill, and from it issues the power which uplifts the trunk of 
the giant oak to Heaven, and plauts its grasping roots deep and 
far into the earth ; which clothes the fields in green, and covers 
the hill sides with the summer flowers; which peoples the ocean 
with teeming life, there builds its coral continents, and decorates 
their jagged cliffs with a drapery of tangled sea weeds; which 
fills with life the wet morass, the arid plain, the lofty mountain 
slopes; which copies the earth with successive generations of 
human beings, and supplies all the wonderful energies with which 
that phase of life abounds; which, in short, working through the 
whole vegetable world clothes all nature with u magical l>cauty, 
which no fairy' land of the imagination can excel; and, moving 
through the whole animal creation, fills the world with active, 
happy life, and evokes from each living being the marvelous phe- 
nomena of sensibility, motion, iustinct, passion, nay, even perhaps 
thought itself! Thus by a wonderful process quietly going on 
throughout the vast domain of organized nature, by the constant 
workings of the mystic God-given power which is ever busy in 
each little organic cell—each effecting its special purpose—we see 
evoked from these simple elements a variety of phenomena as 
astounding in character as exliaustless in extent; we perceive the 
beautiful results of an energy' as powerful as it is mysterious and 
past finding out. Wo reach now and we feel that wo are In the 
actual presence of those 11 things unseen,” which are in truth more 
real than the “ things seen.” They are the more real for they are 
the more potent, moulding as they do the passive and mere rnate- 9 
rial world to suit their special purposes. Does not this contem- 
plation bring us near, indeed, to the Great Unseen Himself? The 
microscopist viewing-through the object glass of his instrument 
one of these little cells has gone as far into Nature’s mysteries as 
human intellect will probably ever penetrate. He stands at the 
coniines of tlnfunknown and the unknowable—at the very entrance 
to that “ Holy of holies,” before which it becomes us to recognize 
our Unite powers, and rest content to bow in humble acknowledg- 
ment of our comparative ignorance, and in adoration of that 
Almighty Being whose presence we must feel encompassing us on 
all sides, meeting us where’er Ave turn. 
The student of Man is lifted into yet a still higher sphere, is 
brought to a still nearer communion with his Maker. It becomes 
his special privilege to see in his own mental nature, superadded 
to the mere animal life, a reflection, a flickering ray it may be, of 
Him Avho “knows all things and from whom nothing is hid.” 
When, from observing the peculiar shape, size, structure, 
changes, etc., of any jtart of the human body, as taught by ana- 
tomy, we infer its function as taught by physiology; and when 
avc again take into consideration the relations of that special part 
and its function to other functions of other parts; and yet again 
Avhen we observe how many various and apparently diverse parts 
or organs with their respective functions, all-concurrently tend to 
the production of some one common result, and we see that that 
result is of evident importance, more or less, to the existence and 
the well-being of the individual or the species—when we thus see 
that each and all are related parts of a great plan, avc wake to the 
consciousness that, Avhile learning, step by step, to descry the 
numerous evidences of intelligent and beneficent design, specially 
imprinted upon this portion of God’s creation—this chef d'oeuvre 
of Creative power—we are really learning to read, letter by letter 
and syllable by syllable, it may be—mere school children of Dame 
Nature as we are—yet, truly and to read the 
very thoughts of the Almighty himself. It is a trite but true ex- 
pression that the true philosopher, while studying at the feet of 
Nature, learns from her inspired lips 
“To look from Nature up to Nature’s God.” 10 
Nothing can be more false than the ohl scandal which accuses our 
profession of a tendency to atheism. It was only in the days 
when religion was identified with blind superstition, and when 
the mere dissent of the student of Nature from the dogmatic dicta 
of sectarianism, was branded as atheism, that the old adage, “ ubi 
tres medici duo athei” could receive any credence. who, with 
all the light of modern anatomy and physiology to guide him, 
studies the human body and uses his common sense, observing, 
as he must, so plainly written there the most indisputable and 
overwhelming proof, ns I have already remarked, of all wise and 
all benevolent design, he who does this, and then, with unabashed 
and brazen front, presumes to say “there is no Cod,” must bo 
either a fool or a lunatic, as some one has expressed it; otherwise 
he speaks not what ho must feel to l>e the truth. True philoso- 
phy and true religion can -never in the end be at variance, for all 
truth is but one; and is not Tartullian correct when he says that 
“ Philosophy and Medicine are twin sisters’’ ? 
Nor do the teachings of anatomy and physiology coniine them- 
selves to man. By pointing out the analogies and the differences 
obtaining between him and the other divisions of the animal crea- 
tion, these sciences—or, I should rather say, this science, for they 
are one and indivisible—this science teaches our intimate rela- 
tionship to, and yet Our high jmsition in, the great system of or- 
ganic life; and humbly, yet witli a proi»er self-respect, we realize 
the idea that we are in the grand cosmogony of the (Ireat Creator 
really, in the words of Coleridge, 
“ Part* ami proportion* of a wondrous whole.'* 
This consciousness of the presence everywhere we look of u Su- 
preme Wisdom, adds strength to our/altering faith, aud we trust- 
ingly realize the truth of the eloquent words of England’* great 
philosopher i>oet, Tope, when he tells 11s that 
“ All Nature i* but art unknown to thee, 
All chance, direction which thou can*t not ; 
All diacord, harmony not underetood, 
All partial cril, universal good." , 
But should tastes lead you to the more metaphysical aud 
theoretical pursuits, and you delight to observe the phenomena 
presented by the mysterious workings of the forces constantly in 11 
action witliin as well as around us, then, indeed, you may find a 
large field for such studies in the phenomena of life and the influ- 
ences exerted by mind and sense on matter. To a certain extent 
some knowledge of the laws which seem to govern these rela- 
tions, some acquaintance with what may be called medical meta- 
physics, is necessary in practical medicine. The effects of the 
mind on the body have been well illustrated in the many delu- 
sions which have at various .times spread through whole com- 
munities. In fact in every age we fiud some wild delusion more 
or less prevalent; and the superficial character of the so-called 
“ education of the masses,” characteristic of our times and coun- 
try, only gives additional facilities to the knaves who are ever 
ready to abuse this weakness of human nature for their personal 
advantage. You are all aware of the confidence which, even in 
late days, was inspired by the touch of any English king for the 
cure of scrofula, hence called popularly “king’s evil;” while the 
healing virtues of the water wrung from the robe of Mahomet— 
which is yearly wet for that purpose during the East of llama- 
yan—is to this day believed in by thousands of Mohammedans. 
We have now some delusions hardly less absurd in both Euro- 
pean and American communities, which boast of the general edu- 
cation of the masses. 
As we observe numerous instances of the effects of mental 
agencies in the cure of diseases of a certain character, so on the 
other hand we see many examples illustrative of the effect of 
bodily diseases upon the mind, giving rise to the most remark- 
able derangements of all degrees and kinds, from the mono- 
maniacal delusion up through all the grades of insanity to mania 
itself. You may have heard of the poor dyspeptic who refused to 
sit down because he believed himself made of glass, and feared 
ho might break to pieces; {ind you will also remember the case of 
the hypochondriacal lady who provoked Abernathy so much by 
sen ling for him in the middle of the night to tell him she had 
swallowed a mouse, that he told her to cure herself by swallowing 
a cat, and abruptly left the room. 
So, too, it will interest the student of psychology to observe 
the remarkable effects of mere nervous sensual impressions upon 
the whole system, or on some special and it may be distant or- 12 
pan. To u die of a rose in aromatic pain" is not altogether apoc- 
ryphal, and the idiosyncracy is not confined to the frailer sex. 
Millengen says that Amatus Lusitanus relates the case of a monk 
who always fainted at the odor of that llower. Krasinas, the 
learned reformer, had fever whenever he smelt fish ! Hippocrates 
mentions the case of a i>erson w ho always fainted at the sound of 
a lute, and Henry III, of France, is said to have l>een similarly 
affected by the sight of a cat. Examples might l>e indefinitely 
multiplied. t 
Again, mental philosophy and psychology, in their connections 
with physiology, open their iwrtals to the student of our profes- 
sion, and invite him into their mazy walks, where many great in- 
tellects of all ages have groped their way before him, enticed by 
the flickering lights, as seductive as they are delusive. There 
may he seek—if haply he may Hud it—the seat of intellect, of 
imagination, judgment, memory—a favorite diversion of the think- 
ing men of all ages. Aristotle, of old, and the quaint writer, Jlur- 
ton, of comparatively modern times, with many others, would 
locate “ phantasm" (as the author of the a Anatomy of Melan- 
choly** called imagination) in the middle part of the brain, com- 
mon sense in the forepart, and memory in the back ; while Avici* 
mis, and others after him, locate imagination in the “ prow,” an 
he called it, memory in the “poop,” and judgment “amidship/ 
More modern theorists, as you are aware, have attempted a more 
minute localization of the faculties in their sjiecial workshops and 
their habitats, flail and Spurzhcim, and the numerous itinerant 
phrenologists after them, will lay off your cranium into regular 
blocks and streets; and, if you will believe them, they will give 
you a regular kind of city directory which will enable you to rap 
at the very door of any given faculty you please. 
Hut the duties of him who undertakes to practice our profes- 
sion, lead also into researches of a more practical character; and 
it l»ehooves him to enter the vast storehouses where the accumu- 
lated experience of the sages who have preceded us lie ready to 
be appropriated and applied to the relief of our fellows. Here 
comes in the art of medicine; for medicine is both a science and 
an art, and the art is necessarily derived from the science. It is 
a science, when under the phases of anatomy, chemistry, phy- 13 
siology and pathology, it lays up its stores of abstract knowledge. 
It is an art, when as therapeutics, surgery, hygeine, etc,, it seeks 
to apply that abstract knowledge, guided by a carefully analyzed 
experience, to the benefit of mankind. It behooves every intelli- 
gent practitioner ever to keep in view this mutual relation be- 
tween the science and the art of medicine $ for this is the only way 
by which he can preserve himself from a kind of intra-profes- 
sional charlatanry, too commonly seen in a species of blind rou- 
tinism, which is really so analogous to quackery that I cannot 
descry the difference. 
Medicine has not always occupied the dignified position now 
accorded it by the unanimous verdict of the best intellects 
and the most cultivated communities. In very ancient times 
the highest dignities were accorded it. Esculapius was re- 
garded as the son of Apollo. Polodarius, shipwrecked on 
the Carian. coast, had a temple erected to him after his death, 
by the people, was accorded divine honors, and while alive re- 
ceived the more comforting honor of the hand of the daughter of 
their monarch in man iage, as is related by old Homer. Fora 
long time during the u dark ages” the practice of physic was in 
the hands of the ecclesiastics; who, from being themselves the 
practitioners, became, afterwards, rather the opponents of the 
profession ; and to such a degree was this hostility carried, that 
its study by the ecclesiastics was prohibited by the Council of 
Tours in 11G3, and in 1215 Pope Honorius III even denied 
benediction to all who practiced surgery, on the ground that 
the church abhorred all cruel and sanguinary practices. It 
is gratifying to find what different relations now obtain be- 
tween our profession and that very mother church formerly so 
hard upon us. We arc co-laborers in a cause the common object 
of which is the assistance of the weak, the poor and the sick, and 
at the bedside of the sufferer we should encourage that sympathy 
which a common object naturally engenders. Must wo not also 
gladly acknowledge our obligations to those devoted bands of 
self-sacrificing sisters of that church, with whose exertions pray 
what hospital would willingly dispense ? What surgeon or phy- 
sician attending at such an institution does not know, that his 
labors are doubly hopeful of results when he feels that his patients 14 
are in charge of these well named true “ Sisters of Charity,” as 
gentle and as kind as they are energetic, systematic and careful. 
They, indeed, ‘‘show their faith by their works,” aud will surely 
reap their reward. 
As letters revived medicine too began in Europe to emerge 
from the general gloom and to assume some shape. Like the other 
branches of human knowledge, it also has been beclouded more 
than once with delusive theories, aud been driven by imaginative 
enthusiasts into various absurdities, w hich all have their day uml 
depart. The strict system of Laconian inductive logic, at present 
in vogue in all the departments of scientific research, saves us 
now, to a considerable degree, from many of these delusions. 
Any marked violation of this system of reasoning simply excludes 
those so guilty from recognition in the walks of science, ltut in 
olden times these popular and wild fancies, not, as now, mainly 
coutiued to the unreasoning crowd, infused themselves even iuto 
the ranks of the profession, and mollified its practice. At oue 
time, for example, the doctrine of Signs prevailed, and found 
such advocates as Pioscarides, Pliny and Paracelsus, while a sys- 
tematic work, “Do Signaturis Plantarum,” was written by one 
C'rollius. This system taught that each medicine had sumc sign 
which would indicate its uses, lied flowers were considered good 
for blood diseases and yellow for liver complaints. The dark spot 
like an eye in the corolla of the euphrasia, a flower not unlike the 
cotton blossom, and to 1)6 seen in abundance in the lowlands of 
this State, was considered an indication of its usefulness for the 
cure of eye affections, and it w as indiscriminately prescribed for 
all the different diseases of this organ. One of the fashionable 
delusions now so prevalent, esj>eeiaUy in this Western country, is 
not one whit less puerile. 
Many of these delusions are only revivals of old follies, which 
have long since proved their fallacy by their ephemeral existence. 
As an example we may cite the revival of the old methods of 
cure by animal magnetism, mesmerism, etc. These are, indeed, 
no new things. Plutarch says that Pyrrhuscured (?) diseased spleen 
by passing his hand over it, and Celsus says that Asclepiades 
calmed pleurisy by friction ; while Caelius Aurelius gives special 
direction, according to Millengeu, how to make the passes for 15 
various affections, and notices the lethargy produced. Van llel- 
raont is said to have cured by this means, and this is said to have 
been one cause of his having been thrown into the inquisition. 
Tertullian in his treatise “ De Anima,” alludes to a kind of mes- 
meric or magnetic ecstasy, in which the patient told what means 
to use for his relief, and even undertook to prophecy. So that 
long before Father Hell, the Jesuit and professor of anatomy in 
Vienna, told Mesmer in 1774 that he had cured himself of rheu- 
matism by the process now called mesmerism, and even before 
Lenoble had noticed similar phenomena in 1754, the thing was 
known, and there were found crazy enthusiasts and designing 
knaves to carry its application to as extravagant and absurd an 
extent as any of the modern humbugs may boast of. 
I have endeavored, gentlemen, to give you some idea of the 
character, the scope, and the general history of the profession to 
which you propose to devote your lives. If pursued with the ear- 
nest devotion which true science demands of her votaries, and 
with that charity for the suffering you propose to relieve, without 
which, I beg leave to affirm, no physician can be a gentleman, 
your intellect will find abundant opportunities for its best efforts, 
while the nobler attributes of your moral nature will find a full 
field for their development. 
Such, then, ladies and gentlemen, is an imperfect sketch of the 
character of the profession whose duties and responsibilities these 
young gentlemen, in your presence, have, this day, formally as- 
sumed. Its claims for the respect and gratitude of men are daily 
receiving more favorable recognition; and we may well indulge 
a becoming pride when we see that these claims meet with a 
response more or less favorable just in proportion to the degree of 
culture and trtie civilization of the various States and communi- 
ties. I say true civilization, for this is quite a different thing from 
the mushroom growth of morbid and fanatical, imaginative, but 
unreasoning sensationalism, so characteristic of some communi- 
ties, where education is diffused but superficial, and self-asser- 
tion and conceit take the place of true refinement and cultiva- 
tion. 
I need hardly enter into any details to prove the claims of this 
profession upon the gratitude of mankind. The simple facts, re- 16 
coguizablc cm all bides, speak for themselves. Within tho last 
half century tho adoption of proper hygienic measures, with the 
improved system of treatment, has added more than ten years to 
the average term of human life, us hi clearly proved by all the 
mortality statistics of both European and American communi- 
ties. .Jenucr’s discovery of the virtues of vaccination is ealcu* 
lated to have saved millions of human lives. The blessings of 
chloroform and ether in surgery and practice are simply incal- 
culable; and innumerable other triumphs of our art, many of 
them only duly appreciated by ourselves, shine out on the records 
of our profession to gladden the heart of suffering humanity, and 
to encourage us to still nobler efforts. 
To you, gentlemen, we look, and the world looks, for your share 
ofexerti n in this great cause. Your time is not to b3 spent 
merely in the philosophic study of mankind ; you are also to en- 
deavor to apply that study to liis benefit. It is not only lor the 
gratification of your intellectual taste that you have entered the 
brotherhood. You will bo expected to practice as well as to 
study. But iu undertaking to practice you assume most irnpar- 
tant responsibilities, responsibilities the importance of which can 
hardly be overestimated, though too frequently regarded by our- 
selves, as well as the public, iu too trivial a light. Think for a 
momeut what you this day undertake to do. Sickness, suffering 
and death are the most fearful realities of this stage of human 
life; we meet them where’er we tarn. You now undertake to 
enter the lists against them at every hazard, for the sake of the 
crowds of victims who are on all sides writhing 4,neath their 
scourges, and who will look to you as their only earthly protector. 
To you the father stricken down iu his manhood, uud dreading to 
leave his earthly labors more for the sake of tho loved ones he 
must leave desolate, than from any more s Ifish thoughts—to 
you, as he feels himself sinking slowly into an early grave—to 
you will he stretch out his feeble hand I or help. At your eu 
trance the fond mother, leaning over her loved child, and watch- 
ing day after day the little fading flower, at your entrance will 
she lift her tear-tilled eyes and search, oh! with what energy of 
pathos! for one ray of hope to soothe her agony. To you the 
husband, as he stands at the bedside of her whom he loves dearer 17 
than all the world besides, and feels and sees the chill dark 
shadow of death falling over her fair form and darkening the 
lustre of her still loving eye; to you, and you alone on earth, will 
he look for help in this his hour of sore distress. These are no 
fancy sketches, my young friends; some such experiences will pro- 
bably occur to each of you e’er the lapse of a single year of active 
practice. Would you be ever ready for such emergencies? Be 
true to yourselves and your profession, and you will be, at least 
as much so as in you lies, and more cannot be expected of you. 
Yes, be, in the largest sense, true to yourselves, as your Maker 
designed you to be. Be true to your intellectual nature, by so 
cultivating its God-given powers as to develop its full capacity. 
Feed it with knowledge, exercise it with thought. Then will it 
be quick to discern, prompt to act, and firm to control. Be true 
to your moral nature, by scrupulously and religiously preserving 
your sense of responsibility to Him who governs all things, and 
by cultivating that genial charity for others which should consti- 
tute the mainspring of all the social graces, as it does of all the 
Christian virtues. Be true to your physical nature also, by “ tem- 
perance in all things.” Bemember Cowper’s sensible couplet: 
“ Habits are soon assumed, but when we strive 
To strip them off—’tis being flayed alive.” 
Shun, then, aye shun as you would the deadly shade of the Upas 
tree, the earliest insidious approaches of any of those lamentably 
common habits, which so easily first entwine themselves around 
our animal nature, then blunt the intellect and blast the morality 
of the ablest and the best; and, in the end, rule supreme over the 
wreck they have made, and revel like demons ’mid the ruins. 
Be true, then, to yourselves; to that wonderful trinity of phy* 
sical, moral and intellectual natures, which together and in 
mutual harmony constitute your humanity. Be thus true to 
yourselves, and you will be best prepared, not only for all the 
emergencies of this life, but for that land 11 from whose bourne no 
traveler returns.” 
Shakespeare, in the mouth of Polonius, ends his parting advice 
to Laertes with the following sentence t 
“ This above all—to thine own self be true ; 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man.” 18 
Permit me to convey my full meaning, and at the same time 
to impress the idea I would in parting leave upon your minds, by 
slightly changing a few words: 
“ ThU above all—to thy beet *elf bo true; 
And it miut follow, a* tho night the day, 
Thou eanat not then be Jalee to man or Uod." 
Farewell! ADDRESS OF DR. A. S. GATES. 
Upon me, to-day, through the partiality of these my fellow 
graduates and friends, has devolved the pleasant task of address- 
ing the Farewell. But the pleasure of being the representative 
before you of the class, has its due admixture of bitterness and 
regret. The past, our happy past, with its friends, its .associa- 
tions, its careless recklessness of the morrow, is to us, to-day, as 
it were, dead, and the task assigned me seems now the sad, sad 
duty of committing it to its grave. 
Memory lingers lovingly around the scenes and joys of our 
student life, gilding each past hour with merry thoughts, and 
troops of joyous recollections throng to our hearts. 
To-day, the one day of our lives around which cluster our 
fondest remembrances—the day of bright hopes and high aspira- 
tions—we throw aside our student’s gown and slippers, and don 
the new and uneasily fitting garb of busy, active life. As we 
receive from the hands of our mentors these tokens of approval, 
each heart leaps joyously to meet the future; and longing, impa- 
tient eyes peer deep into its shades and shadows, seeking to read 
through the veil the destiny allotted to each of those who start so 
hopefully to explore its mysteries. 
May we not, from the faces of friends assembled to witness the 
launching of our life barks, draw favorable omens, and foretell 
for ourselves a sunny, if not a glorious future. 
It may seem scarcely my province to attempt any lengthy pane- 
gyric in praise of the profession to whose honors we are so newly 
admitted. But when from such representatives of its dignity we 
are invested with the rights and privileges which they enjoy, our 
hearts swell with pride that they deem ns worthy to follow in 
their footsteps, and u from the fullness of the heart the mouth 
speaketh.” 
Long and fondly we dwell upon the charms of our mistress, 
and though it is a theme upon which others before me have, with 20 
lavish hand, scattered the tlowcrs of rhetoric, I, too, dare raise 
my voice in humbler and ruder strains, perchance to swell the 
chorus of those who chant her praises. 
To trace the onward march of the science and art of medicine 
through its mazes of advance and retreat, would bo imposing a 
burden upon your patience, and would, after such an able exj>o. 
nent as he who has just preceded me, prove presumptuous in 
one. 
When “ Death, who knocks with equal hand at the cottage 
door and the palace gate,” was first ushered into the world as 
“the grim messenger of Almighty vengeance,” bringing in his 
train dread Disease, who spreads his blighting wings over the fair 
earth, Man, to whom was adjudged pain, sickness and sorrow, 
sought means wherewith to ward off his “ insatiable dart.” 
With the knowledge of “ Good and Evil,” as he attains nearer 
to that rank from which he fell, as in God like attributes he be- 
comes more like Him in whose image he was created, we find him 
the more able to heal the sick, to make the lame to walk, and the 
blind to see. 
We, of to day, with the works of those gone Indore us as lights 
to illumine the dark spots in our paths, can scarcely imagine that 
the time was when the dark cloud of superstition so overshadowed 
our science, that incantations were chanted at the bedside of the 
sick to exorcise the evil spirits which, as diseases, racked the 
“human form divine.” We wonder that the shades e’er hung so 
darkly over her youth that the “ Doctrine of Signatures” should 
have had its advocates in her ranks; that doctrine which treated 
like with like. 
The surgeon of the Present wanders back among his medical 
records, to come at last to the Barl)er as the first who at the 
direction of the man of medicine, practiced the art which now, 
as modern forgery boasts of such triumphs, and which is so near 
;>erfect. The rit medicatrix natura has given place to the skillful 
hand, wielding the saving knife. 
One by or.e these relics of the Past fade away before the 
steadily advancing light of Knowledge, and we may hope for a 
day not far distant when its beams will fienetrate with health- 
bringing warmth, even into the very haunts yet tenanted by the 21 
demons of ignorance, dispelling 'with its genial rays the miasms 
of superstition which yet hold man in its baneful grasp. 
We may well be proud to assume the armor and grasp the 
standard of such a cause. 
Year after year adds its hoard of treasures to the heaped-up 
storehouse of medical Knowledge. 
New facts, like beacon lights gleam from every crag, and shed 
their streaming rays far out over the dreary wastes yet unex- 
plored, warning away from a rocky coast, or inviting to safe and 
pleasant harbors those “ Toilers of the Deep ” who seek for Truth 
in all her purity. New theories like silken threads lead the de- 
votee on and ever on through the labyrinths of doubt and uncer- 
tainty, out into the open sunlight of reason and truth. 
Day by day the seekers are at work, and from the accumulated 
mass of years drag forth some “stone which the builders re- 
jected,” which fashioned and turned by a master hand proves a 
“ gem of purest ray serene,” and the Earth, the Air and the 
Sea yield up their jewels one by one to deck the brow of the 
“ Goddess of Medicine,” who, with healing in her wings, hovers 
o’er God’s fairest creature, man. 
Medicine stands to-day hand in hand with her sister sciences, 
not blushing to borrow from them those facts which prove of ser- 
vice, or selfishly retaining those treasures of her own which may 
benefit them, wearing upon her features the stamp of Truth, 
Dignity and Honor. Not one of them has greater triumphs to 
boast, and with lavish hand she pours at the feet of suffering 
nations her dearly earned jewels of thought and experience, while 
for her faithful servants she has laurels undying. 
Names appear among the list of her followers, which unborn 
nations will yet lisp in praise; heroes, whose fame was not 
achieved upon the tented field, amid the braying of trumpets and 
the clash of steel, but by the lonely bedside, amid the groans of 
the unfortunate—names which will outlive the hero who carried 
war, death and desolation in his hand, and whose claims to re- 
membrance we each love to dwell upon and hand down in story 
and in song. Following down the path which their feet have 
hallowed we in our hearts long to enroll our names, lower down 
perchance upon the record, among those whose deeds live 22 
after them, that when we too leave the scenes of oar labor they 
may be reckoned as markings of the progeas of medicine. 
As we stand upon the threshold of our busy life, before turning 
into the separate paths assigned us in life’s journey—as we strike 
hands in parting, we turn again to you and ask you to bid us 
“ God filled.’’ 
To the Professors of the “New Orleans School of Medicine,” 
in the name of the class of “ sixty-nine,” I extend sincere thanks 
for the kindness and interest manifested towards us during our 
collegiate course, assuring them that the principles and precepts 
enunciated to us from their respective chairs have taken firm 
root, and will ever prove to us sure footing upon w hich to base 
our future. 
We fully appreciate the labois you have undergone to prepare 
ns for the life we undertake, and we will ever gratefully remem* 
ber the uuseltish bands which have unfolded to our view such 
pages of thought and experience. 
Though the ties with w hich association have united us to ycu 
are to-day sundered by the rude hand of destiny, years will but 
soften into a halo the glow of gratitude which now warms our 
hearts towards you. 
Memory will ever twine her greenest wreaths around your 
names, and iu return we at*k but a kindly coruer in your remeni* 
brauce for ourselves. 
Fellow’Graduates, the saddest part of my task now rises l»efore 
me. To bid you farewell, you who have struggled on shoulder to 
shoulder with me through the long months of preparation and 
study, who have shared with me the joys and happiness of 
student life, is indeed a task from which I can not but shrink 
with regret. 
In after years as each well remembered face pusses in review, 
called back from the dim Past, or as from afar, I watch the rising 
of some star upon the medical horizon, which glitters to the 
name of some one of this Class, there again, will my heart throb 
joyously with pride, as it does to-day, when I remember that I 
was called to the honor of representing this class. 
“There are strange chords in the human heart” which lie 
dormant for years. This hour with uncouth hand has sought 23 
and struck chords in my heart, and the tones they send forth are 
sombre and melancholy. In years to come, they will yet vibrate 
with something of regret, that Time, in his ceaseless will, has 
hurried me far away from such friends, regret, that to me will 
come no more, the cordial grasp of the hands, last pressed to-day. 
With the post you have assigned me, Fellow Graduates, you 
have vested in me, the right to attempt to advise. But the advice, 
comes through me only from those better calculated to claim 
your consideration. 
In the Law, in the Church, in the Army, the bonds of brother- 
hood, draw their followers together in good feeling and fellow- 
ship. Let us who receive upon our shoulders, the mantles of 
those gone before us, so live, that the Profession which we repre- 
sent shall be characterized by its fellowship as well as by its 
Honor. Let us cast back the accusation sometimes made by the 
world against our Mistress that she is the Goddess who throws 
the apple of Discord to her followers. In these days when dis- 
covery upon discovery has opened far away before us fields of 
labor which unite searchers, when the paths which branch away 
from the beaten track are so numerous, each leading through its 
mazes and wanderings to pleasant retreats there need be no 
crowding and jostling among us. 
Condemn no brother upon his opinion though we cannot en- 
dorse it, sustaining the Profession ever, as noble and honorable. 
Ever give a heeding ear to the whisperings of that still small 
voice, which I know will warn or approve you. The hopes which 
long association with you has nurtured in my breast, tells me, 
that there need be on my part no elaborate exposition of the 
Code of Ethics. 
The duty to ourselves and the duty to one’s neighbor, will 
ever prove to you, sure guide stars, by which to steer your life 
boat, clear of the shoals and quick sands which have wrecked so 
many bright hopes. 
Strive, honestly and truly, but do not, I beg you, carve your 
names high on the tablets standing on the shoulders of some less 
fortunate brother, and trust me that individual merit will wreathe 
for you the brightest chaplets, with no thorn to gall your brow 
when crowned with success. 24 
Let the words of truth which have rung upon your ears from the 
lips of those who have thus guided our tottering foootsteps, sink 
deep and take linn root iu your hearts, cherish them ever as the 
“Magic Talismans” by which to gain entry to that Temple 
which crowns the Hill of Science. 
In parting with you to day, memory stores away with jealous 
care, as her dearest treasures, the remembrance of this hour, the 
bright 8pot in life, which will briug its smile, to erase the traces 
left by years, shaded only with the regret that to such friends J 
must say “ Farewell.”