"My heart sickens as I recall the spectacle at Alfort in former times, of a wretched horse—one of many hundreds, broken with age and disease resulting from life-long and honest devotion to man's service—bound upon the floor, his skin scored with a knife like a gridiron, his eyes and ears cut out, his arteries laid bare, his nerves exposed and pinched and severed, his hoofs pared to the quick, and every conceivable and fiendish torture inflicted upon him, while he groaned and gasped, his life carefully preserved under this continued and hellish torment from early morning until afternoon, for the purpose, as was avowed, of familiarizing the pupil with the frenzied motions of the animal. This was surgical vivisection on a little larger scale, AND TRANSCENDED BUT LITTLE THE SCENES IN A PHYSIOLOGICAL LABORATORY. I have heard it said that somebody must do it. I say it is needless. NOBODY SHOULD DO IT. WATCH THE STUDENTS AT A VIVISECTION; IT IS THE BLOOD AND SUFFERING, not the science, that rivet their breathless attention. If hospital service makes young students less tender of suffering, vivisection deadens their humanity, and begets indifference to it."
Let us pause for a moment. These are words of great import. They are as true to-day as when first uttered. Who was the speaker? The most eminent surgeon in America in his day. He was professor of surgery in Harvard University, and the leading member of its faculty. He was the surgeon of the Massachusetts General Hospital. He had seen the first surgical operation under complete anaesthesia that the world had known. Learned societies in Paris, in London, in other countries of Europe, were proud to number him among their members. He had reached the age of assured eminence, where all fear of opposing influences that might disastrously affect the medical career of a younger man, had no weight. Surely, if any living man can speak with authority, he speaks now.
And before whom does he speak? He is not addressing a general audience. It is a meeting of the Massachusetts Medical Society, an association of the physicians and surgeons of that Commonwealth. Some of them had also seen vivisection as practised in Paris and Leipsic. Here was a man at the head of their profession protesting against the introduction of the vivisection laboratory system in his own country.
He insists over and over again that we cannot tell the degree of agony inflicted by experiments upon the nervous system, nor measure its intensity:
"Who can say whether a guinea-pig, the pinching of whose carefully sensitized neck throws him into convulsions, attains this blessed momentary respite of insensibility by an unexplained special machinery of the nervous currents, OR A SENSIBILITY TOO EXQUISITELY ACUTE FOR ANIMAL ENDURANCE? Better that I or my friend should die than protract existence through accumulated years of torture upon animals whose exquisite suffering we cannot fail to infer, even though they may have neither voice nor feature to express it."
It is not the fact of suffering, but the useless waste of suffering that chiefly repels him:
"If a skilfully constructed hypothesis could be elaborated up to the point of experimental test by the most accomplished and successful philosopher, and if then a single experiment, though cruel, would forever settle it, we might reluctantly admit that it was justified. But the instincts of our common humanity indignantly remonstrate against the testing of clumsy or unimportant hypotheses by prodigal experimentation, or MAKING THE TORTURE OF ANIMALS AN EXHIBITION TO ENLARGE A MEDICAL SCHOOL, or for the entertainment of students—not one in fifty of whom can turn it to any profitable account. The limit of such physiological experiment, in its utmost latitude, should be to establish truth in the hands of a skilful experimenter, and not to demonstrate it to ignorant classes and encourage them to repeat it."
One cannot but remark the clear distinction of views which these words indicate. No antivivisectionist would accept the suggestion of a single experiment. Dr. Bigelow is speaking as a restrictionist against the free and unlimited vivisection which he rightly foresaw was about to be introduced into this country, and which has become the practice of the present day. He realizes that if once the laboratory system gains a foothold in his own college, the system will spread throughout America:
"The reaction which follows every excess will in time bear indignantly upon this. Until then it is dreadful to think how many poor animals will be subjected to excruciating agony as one medical college after another becomes penetrated with the idea that vivisection is a part of modern teaching, and that, to hold way with other institutions, they, too, must have their vivisector, their mutilated dogs, their guinea- pigs, their rabbits, their chamber of torture and of horrors, to advertise as a laboratory."
Nor this the only expression of Dr. Bigelow's opinions. In his work on "Surgical Anaesthesia," he left on record an even stronger condemnation of the abuses of vivisection and the cruelties which pertain to it. As he quotes from Stanley's "In Darkest Africa," which was published in 1890, it is evident that it represents his mature and settled judgment, down to the very close of his long and distinguished career. In this work he says:
"There can be no question that the discussion of vivisection arouses antagonistic human instincts. It is no common subject which enlists such earnest and opposite opinions. That there is something wrong about it is evident from the way in which the reputation of inflicting its torture is disclaimed. That for some reason it is a fascinating pursuit is equally evident from the bitter contest made for the right to practise it.
"There is little in the literature of what is called the `horrors of vivisection' which is not well grounded on truth. For a description of the pain inflicted, I refer to that literature, only reiterating that what it recounts is largely and simply fact, selected, it may be, but rarely exaggerated.
"Vivisection is not an innocent study. We may usefully popularize chemistry and electricity, their teaching and their experimentation, even if only as one way of cultivating human powers. But not so with painful vivisection. We may not move as freely in this direction, for there are distinct reasons against it. It can be indiscriminately pursued only by torturing animals; and the word `torture' is here intentionally used to convey the idea of very severe pain—sometimes the severest conceivable pain, of indefinite duration, often terminating, fortunately for the animal, with its life, but as often only after hours or days of refined infliction, continuously or at intervals."
It is here that Dr. Bigelow differs radically from the advocates of free vivisection. To them there appears no reason why the science of physiology should not "move as freely" in experimentation as the sciences pertaining to any other subject. The closed laboratory evinces the desire and intention to "move freely," without criticism or restraint.
No physician in America of Dr. Bigelow's eminence has ever stated so distinctly the fact of torment in vivisection, and the reasons for its condemnation:
"A man about to be burned under a railroad car begs somebody to kill him; the Hindoo suttee has been abolished for its inhumanity; and yet it is a statement to be taken literally that a brief death by burning would be considered a happy release by a human being undergoing the experience of some of the animals who slowly die in a laboratory. Scientific vivisection has all the engrossing fascination of other physical sciences, BUT THE TRANSCENDENT TORTURE SOMETIMES INFLICTED HAS NO PARALLEL IN ANY OF THEM. As to its extent, we read that in course of ten years seventeen thousand dogs were dissected alive in one laboratory."
Why, then, does not a universal protest arise against such infamous cruelty? On this point Dr. Bigelow is very frank. It is because of the confidence which the general public places in the average scientist. Is he deserving of that implicit faith? Dr. Bigelow does not think so. He says:
"The difficulty is that the community, for want of time or opportunity themselves to investigate the subject, ARE WILLING TO RELY UPON THE DISCRETION OF SCIENTIFIC MEN. This is an error…. A recent distinguished writer, a good judge of men, makes the following observation: `Who can say why the votaries of science, though eminently kind in their social relations, are so angular of character? In my analysis of the scientific nature, I am constrained to associate with it (as compared with that of men who are more Christians than scientists) A CERTAIN HARDNESS, OR RATHER INDELICACY OF FEELING. They strike me as being … coolly indifferent to the warmer human feelings.'[1]
[1] Sir Henry M. Stanley, "In Darkest Africa."
"It should not for a moment be supposed that cultivation of the intellect leads a man to shrink from inflicting pain. Many educated men are no more humane—are, in fact, far less so—than many comparatively uneducated people…. The more eminent the vivisectionist, the more indifferent he usually is to inflicting pain; however cultivated his intellect, he is sometimes absolutely indifferent to it….
"But in order to oppose vivisection to best advantage, and especially lest he should place himself in a false position, the anti- vivisectionist should bear clearly in mind that what he opposes is PAINFUL vivisection only. For there have been wholly painless experiments upon living animals which have led to useful results. Some of the greatest discoveries in medical science were made with no pain whatever…. And yet they have been often and sophistically cited by the vivisector as plausible arguments for inflicting both excessive and useless pain. The fact that a few able men have made discoveries by certain painless experiments upon animals is used to justify the demonstration of torture to medical students (to whom it is as profitless as any medical information can be), and its practice by them. The discovery of anaesthesia has been time and again quoted in favour of vivisection. THIS IS SIMPLY PREPOSTEROUS. In making that discovery, the experiments from the beginning were painless, and were therefore wholly unobjectionable—as I happen to know, having seen the first of them. The same is true of Jenner's vaccination, which was a wholly painless discovery. Little pain was involved in all that was needed to discover the circulation of the blood, which was inferred from the valvular construction of the veins, and then easily substantiated…. The greatest prizes in the lottery of physiological and pathological discovery have involved little or no pain. But the usual and staple work of a so-called `laboratory of vivisection, physiology or pathology,' for the education and practice of medical students in the unrestricted cutting of living animals, and for the indiscriminate and endless repetition of experiments already tried, where a live dog can be bought and its living nerves dissected, … all this is a very different affair. A distinguished vivisector once remarked: `To us, pain is nothing.' When it is remembered that this pain may be, and sometimes intentionally is, of the most excruciating nature possible for human science to invent, and that in a large majority of instances it is to little or no purpose, the remark of this vivisector covers the objectionable ground."
In view of the foregoing quotations, it would appear almost impossible for Dr. Bigelow's position to be misrepresented or misunderstood. He cannot be regarded as an antivivisectionist, for he repeatedly states that to painless experiments upon animals no objection exists. But of the reality of the torment, and of the blunted sensibility of the professional tormenter, he seems to have no doubt. How may reform be promoted? By legal supervision and regulation. A few further extracts from Dr. Bigelow's writings will bring these points into prominence:
"There can be no question that the practice of vivisection HARDENS THE SENSIBILITY OF THE OPERATOR, and begets indifference to the infliction of pain, as well as great carelessness in judging of its severity.
"Indeed, vivisection will always be the better for vigilant supervision, and for whatever outside pressure can be brought to bear against it. Such pressure will never be too great, nor will it retard progress a hair's-breadth in the hands of that very limited class who are likely materially to advance knowledge by its practice.
"The ground for public supervision is that vivisection, immeasurably beyond any other pursuit, involves the infliction of torture to little or no purpose. Motive apart, painful vivisection differs from that usual cruelty of which the law takes absolute cognizance mainly in being practised by an educated class, who having once become callous to its objectionable features, find its pursuit an interesting occupation under the name of science. In short, though vivisection, like slavery, may embrace within its practice what is unobjectionable, what is useful, what is humane, and even what is commendable, it may also cover what is nothing less than hideous. I use this word in no sensational sense, and appeal to those who are familiar with some of the work in laboratories and out of them to endorse it as appropriate in this connection….
"`But burning was useless, while vivisection is profitable.' Here we reach the kernel of the argument of the pain-inflicting vivisector. The reply is that by far the larger part of vivisection is as useless as was an auto da fe'. It does not lead to discovery. The character of the minds of most of those who usually practise it makes this hardly a possibility. Real discoverers are of a different texture of mind, which you cannot create by schools; nor can you retard their progress by restrictions, put on all you may. But restrictions will and should cut off THE HORDE OF DULL TORTURERS WHO FOLLOW IN THE WAKE OF THE DISCOVERER, actuated by a dozen different motives, from a desire for research down to the wish to gratify a teacher or to comply with a school requisition."
How carefully and how clearly the writer has phrased his distinctions between what in vivisection is right and wrong! In all the literature of advocacy for free and unrestricted vivisection can we find anything resembling it? Certainly, I know no writer favourable to unlimited experimentation who has been equally fair. One surgical vivisectionist is fond of dividing the class interested in discussion of vivisection as "Friends of Research," and "Foes of Research," ascribing to the first all the virtues of good sense, and to the latter all the folly that belongs to ignorance. In which class, we may well wonder, would he place the first American surgeon of his time because he objected only to cruelty and abuse?
To Dr. Bigelow the legal supervision of the laboratory seemed the one practical method by which cruelty might be somewhat restrained, because in this way he believed the public would obtain some knowledge of the practice which is now withheld. He says:
"In order that painful vivisection may be as nearly as possible suppressed, not only by public opinion, but by law, IT IS ESSENTIAL THAT PUBLIC OPINION SHOULD BE FREQUENTLY INFORMED OF WHAT IT IS AND MAY BE. Here lies the work of the antivivisectionist. Further, every laboratory ought to be open to some supervising legal authority competent to determine that it is conducted from roof to cellar on the humanest principles, in default of which it should be, as slavery has been, uncompromisingly prohibited wherever law can accomplish this result."
Is the cruelty of unrestricted and unregulated vivisection a reality or a myth? Of his own views on this question we can have no doubt. He says:
—————————-
"The law should interfere. There can be no doubt that in this relation there exists a case of cruelty to animals far transcending in its refinement and in its horror anything that has been known in the history of Nations.
"There will come a time when the world will look back to modern vivisection in the name of Science, as they do now to burning at the stake in the name of Religion."
Concerning vivisection, then, the views of one of the most eminent surgeons that America has produced may be summed up as follows:
FIRST. He is not favourable to antivivisection, but to restriction."There is no objection to vivisection except the physical pain."
SECOND. The cruelties which pertain to certain vivisections and vivisectors are not myth, but realities. For a description of these cruelties, Dr. Bigelow expressly refers to the literature of protest.
THIRD. In defence of vivisection or of unrestricted experimentation, he says that UNTRUTHFUL CLAIMS OF UTILITY have been made.
FOURTH. The reasons for inflicting prolonged torment upon animals are wholly inadequate for its justification.
FIFTH. Vivisection has a hardening tendency upon its practitioners. The more eminent the vivisector, the more indifferent he may become to the infliction of torment.
SIXTH. There is ample reason for the interference of the law. Every laboratory should be legally supervised. Public opinion should be frequently informed concerning vivisection, its objects, and its methods.
I have presented these opinions at length because they represent exactly the position which I have personally maintained for over thirty years. And if the time shall come, foreseen by him, "when the world will look back to modern vivisection in the name of Science, as we now do to burning at the stake in the name of Religion," then, surely, it will be remembered that the first strong voice in America raised, not in condemnation of all experimentation upon animals, but solely in protest against its cruelty and secrecy, and in appeal for its reform, was that of the leading American surgeon of his time, Professor Henry J. Bigelow of Harvard University.
In the year 1906, a Royal Commission was appointed by King Edward to investigate the practice of animal experimentation. Thirty years had passed since the appearance of the earlier inquiry, upon which was based the English law regulating the practice of such experiments. On the one hand, it had been denounced as affording most inadequate protection to animals liable to such exploitation; on the other hand, in the United States it had been condemned as a hindrance to scientific progress, and a warning against any similar legislation. A new Commission was therefore appointed to inquire into the practice, to take evidence, and to report what changes, if any, in the existing statute might seem advisable.
The composition of the new Commission leaned heavily toward the laboratory. It included no opponent to all vivisection. On the other hand, three of the Commissioners at one time or another had held a licence to vivisect, and one of them seems to have held this permission for some fourteen years. The Commission also included among its members the permanent Under-Secretary to the Government—an official whose acts had again and again been arraigned, and were soon to be challenged once more. The unusual spectacle was therefore to be presented of men sitting in judgment upon themselves. One of the Commissioners—Dr. George Wilson, well known for his work regarding the public health—had at various times questioned the conclusions of certain experimenters, but he was not opposed to all research upon animal life. From a Commission so constituted, we might have expected as the final result of their labours a report favourable to the interests of the laboratory, to marked modifications of the existing law by a lessened stringency of inspection, to relaxation of restrictions, and to an endorsement of every claim of utility which the experimenters should put forth.
Such an outcome of the deliberations of the Royal Commission must have seemed to American vivisectors almost a certainty. During the past twenty years, repeated attempts have been made in New York, in Massachusetts, in Pennsylvania, and in the city of Washington, to obtain some legislation regulating the practice of animal experimentation to the extent which obtains in England. At "hearings" before various legislative and Senate Committees, all such attempts have been vigorously combated by representatives and defenders of the physiological laboratories, and their strongest argument has always been the exceedingly detrimental effect of the English Act of 1876 both upon medical education and upon the progress of medical science. Professor Bowditch once said:
"The amount of mischief which may be produced by the English law depends very much on the good judgment of the Home Secretary…. In general, it may be said that the system of licensing and Government inspection is UNDER THE MOST FAVOURABLE CONDITIONS a source of serious annoyance to investigation."
We shall have reason hereafter to see the inaccuracy of this statement, so far as may be evinced by the opinions of English physiologists and teachers.
Upon the secrecy now maintained in English laboratories, a vivid light is thrown by the evidence given before the Commission. Quite as strong as in America have been the precautions taken in England to prevent any knowledge of the methods of vivisection from coming before the general public except through the assertions of the experimenters themselves. In America, where we have no legal limitations to experimentation, such secrecy occasions no surprise; but that in England the laboratory had secured so complete a degree of security from criticism by concealment of that which we are told needs no concealment gives reason for questionings. One of the Government inspectors—a Dr. Thane—insists that although a physiological laboratory is open to the visits of medical students at any time, it would hardly be possible to permit a similar privilege to physicians not in sympathy with experimentation. "I see no way of doing it," he declares. He does not seem to be certain that one of the Royal Commissioners before whom he was giving evidence could be admitted. Dr. George Wilson asks him the question in regard to seeing the various operations which are open to medical students. "I can go and see them? I suppose I would have no difficulty?" Dr. Thane's reply was by no means assuring. "I do not see how it could be done," he replied. He could not see how one of the most distinguished physicians of England could secure the legal right of admission to a physiological laboratory!
Some of the evidence given regarding this point seems a little suggestive of a willingness to mislead a thoughtless questioner. Was there any wish to give an impression that the secrecy of the laboratory did not exist? One of the Government inspectors—Sir James Russell—informed the Commissioners that HE never had any difficulty in getting into laboratories. "I simply walk into them, and have always found the doors open," as if that proved that there was nothing to be concealed. The professor of physiology at University College was particularly examined on this point. "Would there be any difficulty in a doctor who was very strongly opposed on all grounds to experiments on animals presenting his card and being present?" "None whatsoever," was the Professor's answer to his questioner, the Chairman of the Commission. "I want to see," added Lord Selby, "what sort of check there is upon the neglect of the statute; … whether any medical man who disagreed with the Act and disagreed with vivisection altogether would be able to attend?" "In these advanced lectures there is no means by which we can prevent him from attending," was the instant reply. "In point of fact, are ANY steps taken with a view of preventing it?" "None whatever," was the reply. "There is NOTHING to prevent it?" persisted Lord Selby; and the reply of the professor was reiterated: "There is nothing to prevent the attendance of any medical man at these advanced lectures."
The distinguished jurist undoubtedly believed that by these repeated interrogations he had reached a complete denial of the secrecy of experimentation so far as the witness was concerned.
On the day following, the same professor of physiology continued his evidence, and another member of the Commission—A. J. Ram, Esq.—"one of our counsel learned in the law," took part in the examination. "One hears a good deal in lay papers and so forth about experiments conducted with closed doors. IS THERE ANYTHING OF THAT SORT AT ALL?" The very form of his inquiry would seem to indicate his disbelief in the practice of secret vivisection. His question, however, admitted of two different replies. The physiologist might assert the necessary seclusion of physiological experimentation, or he might construe the question in a literal sense as pertaining merely to the locking of his inner door. He preferred the latter course. "I have ever come across a laboratory where there were any closed doors. In my laboratory any student wanting to speak to me walks straight in. The door of my laboratory, where I do the chief part of my work, IS ALWAYS OPEN TO THE PASSAGE."
This is very clever. The two leading lawyers of the Commission have sought to get at the truth concerning the secrecy of vivisection, and apparently are quite satisfied. But some hours later another member of the Commission, a plain Member of Parliament, without skill of fence or experience in the examination of witnesses, asks a question or two. "You have told us," said Mr. Tomkinson, "that any medical man, on presenting his card, can obtain admission at once to a laboratory?"
Here was an inquiry that could be answered but in one way. "No," replied the physiologist; "to the advanced physiological lectures which are given in the University of London." "NOT TO WITNESS ANY OPERATION?" "No; only to witness the demonstrations that are given in those lectures." "But might not the public be more satisfied if a layman—a Member of Parliament, for example—had the right of entry on presenting his card?" "Do you mean to the advanced lectures or to the laboratory?" "I mean to an operation IN THE LABORATORY: say a Member of Parliament or anyone whose position is assured?" "I should be only too pleased to see any Member of Parliament or any layman who had any doubt about it if he presented his card, but I SHOULD HAVE TO BE SATISFIED OF HIS BONA FIDES."
It is a pity that no one thought to ask the physiologist how he expected a Member of Parliament to prove his "good faith" before he could enter precincts open to every student of the University. Sir William Church came to his assistance by suggesting that the professor would admit anyone "vouched for" by a person whom you know, or whose position you know; but the curt monosyllabic reply was not indicative of a welcome, and it was quite different from the conditions which had just been laid down. The doors of the laboratory are "open," but only to those in whose silence and discretion the vivisector may trust.
A considerable amount of testimony was devoted to the alleged painfulness of vivisection. It is the great problem. If the absence of sensation were a certainty in all operations of the kind, there would be no reasonable objection to them, no matter to what extent they might be carried. The physiologists of the present day occupy a somewhat different attitude from those of half a century ago, or of yet later periods. Thirty years ago, one of the leading experimenters in England declared that he had "no regard at all" for the pain inflicted upon a vivisected animal; that he never used anaesthetics except when necessary for personal convenience; and that he had "no time, so to speak, for thinking what the animal will suffer." We find no such profession of indifference in the testimony of modern physiologists. What seems to take its place is, in many cases, a denial of the existence of pain in the experimentation of the present day. Does anything here turn upon a definition of words? A professor at King's College, London, giving his testimony, affirmed that "no student in England has EVER SEEN PAIN in an animal experiment"—a statement which in one sense everyone can accept, for who can say that he ever SAW a pain anywhere? Professor Starling, of the University College in London, declared that during his seventeen years of experimentation "on no occasion HAVE I EVER SEEN PAIN inflicted in any experiment on dog, cat, or rabbit in a physiological laboratory in this country." The experimenter is undoubtedly correct. Neither he nor anyone else in or out of a laboratory has ever "SEEN PAIN."
Some of Dr. Starling's testimony on the subject of pain is very curious. Pain, he tells the Commissioners, "would spoil the experiment," and "A PHYSIOLOGICAL EXPERIMENT WHICH IS PAINFUL IS THEREBY A BAD EXPERIMENT." He is asked whether "there are any operations performed under circumstances in which the animal is necessarily and intentionally sensitive to some pain?" Without any apparent hesitation he replied: "NO, NEVER." Surely this is a remarkable assertion. He is not speaking, so far as one can see, of his own laboratory, but of all the laboratories of the world. If, since the discovery of anaesthesia over sixty years ago, there has been painful physiological experimentation in England, in America, or on the Continent of Europe, IT HAS BEEN BAD EXPERIMENTATION. THE PAIN INFLICTED HAS SPOILED THEIR WORK. One may not be inclined to dispute this opinion, and yet be quite certain that some very eminent vivisectors in Europe and America would question its accuracy so far as their own work is concerned.
It is interesting to compare these assertions with the testimony given by another physiologist—Dr. Pembrey, the lecturer on physiology at Guy's Hospital in London. He tells the Commission that "a common- sense view should be taken of the question," and then makes a definite admission that by no means bears out the contention of the physiologist of University College. "I ADMIT," said Dr. Pembrey, "THAT I HAVE DONE PAINFUL EXPERIMENTS, and I am not ashamed of admitting it." He goes yet further, declaring that if you caused an animal to suffer extreme agony, the pain itself might be so severe as to render the creature unconscious. It is probable that the physiologist could not have foreseen the results of his candid admissions. When the Commission made their final report, they expressed unanimously the opinion that "to grant a licence to any person holding such views as those formerly expressed by Dr. Klein and as those entertained by Dr. Pembrey is calculated to create serious misgiving in the mind of the public."
Closely allied to this question is the problem of anaesthesia. Fifty years ago ether and chloroform were administered to animals very much as they were given to human beings undergoing operations in surgery. An animal returning to consciousness gave abundant evidence of its sensibility to suffering by its struggles and cries. The experimenter might try to believe that the pain was slight, but he never disputed its existence. To-day, all this is changed. As much or as little of the anaesthetic may be given as the vivisector desires, and yet he may declare that "ANAESTHETICS WERE USED," no matter how slight the degree of sensibility thus induced. It is a known fact that a dog is very susceptible to the action of chloroform, so that during its administration death frequently occurs. Sir Thornley Stoker, the President of the Royal Academy of Medicine in Ireland, and for many years a teacher of science, testified before the Commission that a dog's heart is very weak and irregular, and susceptible to the poisonous influence of chloroform. Over and over again he expresses the doubts that arise concerning the administration of chloroform. "I fear that, particularly in the case of dogs, ANAESTHESIA IS NOT ALWAYS PUSHED TO A SUFFICIENT EXTENT, as these animals often die from the effects of the anaesthetic if given to a full extent…. I am never sure, if I give a dog chloroform, that I will not kill it…. THE ANAESTHESIA CANNOT BE COMPLETE if the dog lives as long as is necessary for some of these experiments." Even for one hour he believes it would be generally impossible to keep a dog alive under full anaesthesia. On the other hand, Dr. Starling declared that "there is no difficulty in keeping an animal alive as long as you like," and Sir Victor Horsley affirmed that one could keep a dog under chloroform "FOR A WEEK, if you only take the trouble."[1]
[1] See Minutes of Evidence, November 13, 1907, Q. 15,649.
The discrepancy here would seem insurmountable. May it not be more in appearance than in reality? One man tells me that arsenic is a poison, very liable to cause death. Another affirms that he has taken it for days in succession, and has experienced no unpleasant results. Both statements can be true, for they need not refer to the same amount. In the modern laboratory there is little danger that the animals will succumb to the effects of anaesthetic. Assuredly we may question the completeness of that insensibility which Sir Victor Horsley apparently declares may be maintained for a week.
The use of the substance known as CURARE, either alone or in connection with anaesthetics or narcotics, was naturally a subject of passing inquiry. So slight is the knowledge afforded by certain physiologists that it would almost seem that they were united in a "conspiracy of silence" regarding it; in neither of the last two editions of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica" is there more than a casual reference to the poison, and no reference to its origin. "What is it?" asked one of the Commissioners. "Is it an herb?" A brief account of the poison, in view of an ignorance so widespread, is not out of place.
Curare is the arrow-poison of certain tribes of South American Indians. It was first brought to the knowledge of Europeans by Sir Walter Raleigh on his return from a voyage to Guiana in 1595, over three centuries ago. Its actual composition, even at the present time, is unknown; it is probable that different tribes of savages have their special methods of preparing it. Some travellers claim that it consists only of a decoction of poisonous plants; others believe that with such substances are mixed the fangs of snakes, and certain species of poisonous ants, the whole compound being boiled down to the consistency of tar.
The action of the poison thus made is exceedingly rapid. Numerous experiments by different observers have demonstrated that it swiftly destroys the functions of the motor nerves of the body, leaving the sensory nerves unaffected to any extent. Claude Be'rnard, who made many experiments with curare, came to the same conclusion; it abolishes the power of motion, but has no effect upon the nerves of sensation. An American physiologist, Dr. Isaac Ott, tells us that it is able to render animals immovable "by a paralysis of motor nerves ,LEAVING SENSORY NERVES INTACT." Be'rnard asserts as a result of numerous experiments that in an animal poisoned with curare, "its intelligence, sensibility and will-power are not affected, but they lose the power of moving;" and that death, apparently so calm, "is accompanied by sufferings the most atrocious that the human imagination can conceive." Although it may seem to be a corpse without movement, and with every appearance of death, "sensibility and intelligence exist … it hears and comprehends whatever goes on, and feels whatever painful impressions we may inflict." It is only within late years, and since the employment of curare has been denounced, that anyone has suggested any doubt of these physiological conclusions.
It has been found by physiologists that if the throat of a dog be severed and the windpipe exposed and artificial respiration kept up, all the functions of life may be greatly prolonged; and if curare be used, the creature does not die, although it feels. Supposing that morphia or chloroform be administered at the same time—is the animal, notwithstanding, conscious of pain? Professor Starling admitted in his evidence that if the anaesthetic passed off, the curarized animal would be unable to move or to show any sign of suffering; there would be no possibility of a dog whining or moaning; "it could not, under curare," he frankly admits. Dr. Thane, one of the Government inspectors of laboratories, gave interesting evidence on this point, in reply to questions of one of the Commissioners.
"What is the object of giving curare when you are going to give an anaesthetic?"
"The object of giving curare is to stop all reflex movements…."
"It would stop all struggling, would it not?"
"That is to say, it would put an end to the usual signs of the animal not being properly under anaesthesia?"
"That is so."
"And in that case the experimenter has to depend solely, not upon the attendant, but upon the accuracy of his apparatus? He cannot tell from looking at the animal, which is perfectly still, whether it is suffering or not?"
"If his apparatus breaks down, the animal will die of suffocation; it will not get air."
"Yes, it may die; but so long as it is alive, HE could not say, YOU could not say, I could not say—if I were present—that the animal was properly under anaesthesia, IF THERE WERE NO SIGNS BY WHICH YOU CAN TELL?"
"We could say the animal is respiring air which is charged with anaesthetic in sufficient quantity to keep it anaesthetized before we gave it curare."
"That is all you could say?"
"That is all we could say."[1]
[1] Evidence taken November 21, 1906.
And this pious opinion Dr. Thane reiterates to other questioners. It fails to satisfy except where faith is strong. "The curious thing to me," said Dr. George Wilson, "is that you or anyone else can say positively that an animal which cannot, by moving, give any indication that it is not completely anaesthetized during all this time that it is under a terribly severe operation does not suffer…. I cannot understand such a positive statement." And after Dr. Starling had admitted the impossibility of a dog, under curare, making any cry, Dr. Wilson rejoins: "THEN HOW CAN YOU TELL THAT IT SUFFERS NO PAIN? You may hope and believe, but how can you tell that during a prolonged and terrible experiment, the animal suffers no pain?" The only reply that the experimenter could give was a reiteration of faith in the working of the apparatus.
And here, for the present, the problem must be left. Its only answer is a guess. Yet it should be capable of a definite solution. Every year, in our great cities, it becomes necessary to put homeless dogs out of existence in some merciful way. It should be possible, by use of chloroform, to determine which theory is true. If, under proper circumstances, a dozen animals were made absolutely unconscious by the use of chloroform, as insensible as human being are made before a capital operation, so that the corneal reflex is abolished, could this degree of unconsciousness be maintained "as long as any experimenter desired"? Would it even be possible as a rule to keep them alive a week, yet completely anaesthetized? Or, on the contrary, would such animals be peculiarly liable to sudden death from the effects of the chloroform? One cannot doubt the possibility of laboratory anaesthesia being maintained indefinitely; but how is it with complex and full surgical anaesthesia? Until such appeal to science shall have been made in the presence of those who doubt, and are able to judge, the question cannot be regarded as settled. There are those who will believe that the older investigators were right; that the perfect insensibility to pain is not invariably attained in these cases; and that both in English and American laboratories the most hideous torments are sometimes inflicted upon man's most faithful servant and friend. Even Dr. Thane, the Government inspector, admitted that in making reports the inspector "never could determine which experiments were painless and which were painful."
The evidence given by experimenters was frequently very curious, and sometimes suggestive. Professor Starling, for example, testified that dogs exhibited no fright or fear at entering a vivisection chamber; there are no signs "that they have ANY IDEA OF WHAT THEY ARE GOING TO SUFFER," said the physiologist; "that is a great consolation in dealing with animals, as compared with dealing with a man."[1] "GOING TO SUFFER" is a somewhat significant admission. He is asked whether the experimentation of to-day is more or less humanely conducted than it was before the Act of 1876; and instead of replying he tells the Commissioners that "there was very little work carried out before the Act; THERE WERE ONLY ONE OR TWO PHYSIOLOGISTS." Upon such ignorance of history comment is hardly necessary. We have heard much concerning a "wonderful discovery" of a Dr. Crile, the giving of morphia before a surgical operation, in order to quiet the apprehensions of the patients and so to prevent the occurrence of shock. Yet as long ago as 1906, Dr. Thane, a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, testified, upon the authority of a distinguished scientist, that such use of morphia before administration of anaesthetics "is often done in surgical operations." The attention of Sir Victor Horsley was called to the experiments of a Dr. Watson in America. Had he heard of them?
[1] Minutes of Evidence, Q. 3,885.
"Yes, I know of those experiments," was the reply.
"Were they, in your opinion, valuable experiments?"
"I cannot, at the moment, call to mind whether they revealed any new conditions. I should have to look them up again."
"Were they justifiable, in your opinion?"
"CERTAINLY," was Sir Victor Horsley's terse reply.
Yet, when the account of these experiments was first published, the British Medical Journal, in its editorial columns, thus commented upon them:
"The present pamphlet calls for our strongest reprobation as a record of the most wanton and stupidest cruelty we have ever seen chronicled under the guise of scientific experiments…. Apart from the utterly useless nature of the observations, so far as regards human pathology, there is a callous indifference shown in the description of the suffering of the poor brutes which is positively revolting…. WE TRUST THAT NO ONE, IN THE PROFESSION OR OUT OF IT, will be tempted by the fancy that these or such-like experiments are scientific or justifiable."
It will be seen that concerning Watson's most cruel vivisections Sir Victor Horsley was not in agreement with the British Medical Journal, the official organ of the Association of which, before the Commission, he appeared as the representative!
The final report of the Royal Commission occupies a volume. The long period over which the inquiry extended, the generally apparent desire to permit every phase of opinion to have a hearing, all tended toward views which, if not unanimous, at any rate indicated a desire to be fair. Taken as a whole, the evidence and the final decisions of the Commission constitute an important contribution to the literature of animal experimentation which has appeared during the present century.
The conclusions of the Commission are almost, yet not quite, unanimous. All of the eight members signed the final report, three of them, however, making their assent subject to a qualifying memorandum that in certain respects indicated a considerable divergence of opinion. The following are the conclusions of the Commission, the words in italics and parentheses being the qualifying additions of one of their number, Dr. George Wilson.
"Altogether, apart from the moral and ethical questions involved in the employment of experiments on living animals for scientific purposes, we are, after full consideration, inclined to think—
"1. That certain results, claimed from time to time have been proved by experiments upon living animals, and alleged to have been beneficial in preventing and curing disease, have, upon further investigation, been found to be fallacious or useless. (INDEED, THE FALLACIES AND FAILURES ARE, IN MY OPINION, FAR MORE CONSPICUOUS THAN SUCCESSFUL RESULTS.)
"2. That notwithstanding such failures, valuable knowledge has been acquired in regard to physiological processes and the causation of disease, and that (SOME) methods for the prevention, cure, and treatment of certain diseases (OTHER THAN BACTERIAL), have resulted from experimental investigations upon living animals.
"3. That, as far as we can judge, it is highly improbable that, without experiments made upon animals, mankind would by now have been in possession of such knowledge.
"4. That in so far as disease has been successfully prevented, or its mortality reduced, suffering has been diminished in man and the lower animals.
"5. That there is ground for believing that similar methods of investigation, if pursued in the future, will be attended with similar results." (FAILURES PLENTIFUL ENOUGH STILL, BUT SUCCESSFUL RESULTS FEWER AND FEWER AS THE FIELD OF LEGITIMATE RESEARCH MUST BECOME GRADUALLY MORE AND MORE RESTRICTED.)
Other conclusions appear to be as follows:
"We strongly hold that limits should be placed to animal suffering in the search for physiological or pathological knowledge."
How far interference with experimentation should extend appears to have been a matter of divergent views. Five of the Commissioners took the following position:
"An Inspector should have the power to order the painless destruction of any animal which, having been the subject of any experiment, shows signs of obvious suffering or considerable pain, even though the object of the experiment may not have been obtained; and
"That in all cases in which, in the opinion of the experimenter, the animal is suffering severe pain which is likely to endure, it shall be his duty to cause painless death, even though the object of the experiment has not been attained."
Three of the Commissioners—Sir William J. Collins, M.D., Dr. George Wilson, and Colonel Lockwood—do not agree with this clause. They cannot approve of a rule which leaves to the discretion of the vivisector the right of keeping alive for an indefinite period, a suffering creature. They recommend that all observations, "likely to cause pain and suffering shall be conducted under adequate anaesthetics, skilfully and humanely administered, or if the nature of the investigation render this impracticable, then, that on the supervention of real or obvious suffering the animal shall be forthwith painlessly killed."
The Commission recommended that, in certain cases, immediate or special records or reports of results should be furnished by the experimenter. The three members just named agree with this, but would have such reports the rule, and not the exception. With this view I am personally in emphatic accord. Every experiment should have its complete record, available for publication if so desired.
That part of the final report which in certain respects is more valuable than all the rest, is the reservation memorandum of Dr. George Wilson, one of the Commissioners. He is not an anti- vivisectionist, for he agrees with the unanimous conclusion of his associates that "experiments upon animals, adequately safeguarded by laws faithfully administered, are morally justifiable." Regarding the practice as now carried on, he maintains the only scientific position, that which more inclines to doubt than to credulity. The assurances of witnesses, that in certain experimental operations no pain was inflicted, Dr. Wilson accepts "as opinions to which the greatest weight should be attached, and not as statements of absolute fact, so far as specific instances are concerned." That insensibility to pain is invariably maintained is by no means sure; "however confident the operator may be that he has abolished all pain, VIVISECTIONAL ANAESTHESIA, WITH ALL ITS VARIETIES OF AGENTS AND METHODS OF INDUCTION, CAN NEVER BE DIVESTED OF AN ELEMENT OF UNCERTAINTY."
What are we to say of the results, either to science or the art of healing, which modern vivisection has contributed? It is regarding this point that Dr. Wilson has brought together a mass of evidence of unquestionable value, in a field of inquiry peculiarly his own. For more than thirty years he had been a writer upon topics pertaining to the Public Health. One by one, in his memorandum, Dr. Wilson has examined the claims of vivisection regarding the chief forms of disease which have occupied the attention of experimenters—cancer, which still maintains its advance in fatality; tuberculosis, which began to decline in England more than forty years ago, before it was associated with experimentation; hydrophobia, diphtheria, tetanus, typhoid fever, snake-poison, sleeping-sickness, and certain animal ailments of an infectious character. What is his conclusion regarding all the claims of vastly increased potency of modern medicine over these powers of darkness and death? That experiments have been utterly valueless? No; some useful knowledge has been acquired, in certain directions. "But I still contend, and have endeavored to prove, that the useful results which have been claimed, or may still be claimed, HAVE BEEN ENORMOUSLY OVER-ESTIMATED." And the final conclusion of this keen observer and lifelong student of medicine is this: "That experiments on animals, no matter with what prospective gain to humanity, are repellant to the ethical sense; and that those who persistently advocate them as beneficial to human or animal life MUST JUSTIFY THEIR CLAIMS BY RESULTS…. Even admitting that experiments on animals have contributed to the relief of human suffering, such measure of relief is infinitesimal compared with the pain which has been inflicted to secure it."
What changes to the existing law of England regarding animal experimentation, or in the administration of the Act, did this Commission recommend?
FIRST. AN INCREASE IN THE NUMBER OF INSPECTORS. "The inspectors should be sufficiently numerous and should have at their command ample time to afford to the public reasonable assurance that the law is faithfully administered."
SECOND. RESTRICTIONS IN THE USE OF CURARE. "We are all agreed, that if its use is to be permitted at all, an inspector, or some person nominated by the Secretary of State, should be present from the commencement of the experiment, who should satisfy himself that the animal is throughout the whole experiment and UNTIL ITS DEATH IN A STATE OF COMPLETE ANAESTHESIA."
This is a most remarkable recommendation. Can it imply anything else than distrust of the experimenter?
THIRD. "STRICTER PROVISIONS REGARDING THE PRACTICE OF PITHING." The operation must be complete; performed only under an adequate anaesthetic; and by a licensed person when made on a warm-blooded animal.
FOURTH. "ADDITIONAL RESTRICTIONS REGULATING THE PAINLESS DESTRUCTIONOF ANIMALS which show signs of suffering after the experiment."
To this recommendation and its suggested amendment by three of theCommissioners, reference has already been made.
FIFTH. "A CHANGE IN THE METHOD OF SELECTING and in the constitution of the Advisory body to the Secretary of State."
SIXTH. "SPECIAL RECORDS BY EXPERIMENTERS IN CERTAIN CASES." On this point we have seen that three of the Commissioners went yet farther, and believed that in ALL cases of painful experiment—and, possibly, in all cases whatsoever, such reports should be made.
It is now upwards of thirty-five years since the Act regulating the practice of vivisection in England came into effect. During all that period, in the United States, the law has never ceased to be an object of misrepresentation and attack. Before Legislatures and Senate Committees, on the platform and in the press, by men of good reputation but associated with laboratory interests, the English law has been denounced as a hindrance to scientific progress and a warning against similar legislation in the United States. And yet nothing can be more evident that all these attacks were based upon ignorance and misstatement. We find a Royal Commission in England, composed almost entirely of scientific men, everyone of them favourable to animal experimentation, devoting years to an inquiry concerning not vivisection only, but the working of the law by which it is regulated. And the conclusions reached are in every respect opposed to the statements made by the laboratory interests here. THEY FULLY ENDORSE THE PRINCIPLE OF STATE REGULATION, WHICH EVERYWHERE IN AMERICA IS SO STRENUOUSLY OPPOSED. But this is not all. Every recommendation made for modification of the Act is in the direction of animal protection, and toward an increased stringency of the regulations relating to animal experimentation. In not a single instance was there recommendation that the regulations should be less stringent; not an instance in which it was suggested that privileges of the vivisector should be enlarged. That this should be the result of an inquiry in this twentieth century, extending over five years, is remarkable indeed. Perhaps there is no reason for surprise that all these conclusions of the Royal Commission were never made known to the American public by the periodicals of the day. Is it possible for anyone to believe that such conclusions would ever have been attained if the denunciations of State regulation of vivisection, proceeding from the American laboratory, had been grounded in truth?
A popular delusion is often the basis of a great abuse. If at one time witches were burnt by countless thousands, it was at a period when implicit faith in the reality of diabolic conspiracy was undisturbed by sceptical questionings. Human slavery existed for centuries, not only because it was profitable, but because it came to be regarded as the only conceivable permanent relation between the negro and the white man. The Spanish Inquisition existed for ages, because the pious Spaniard could not believe that the good men who upheld, encouraged, and promoted its activity could be liable to error, or actuated by other than the loftiest principles. Men find themselves deluded not merely because of their faith in the integrity of their fellow-men, but because they have also extended that faith to the accuracy of their opinions.
There can be no doubt of the fact that public apathy regarding the abuses of vivisection as now carried on without limitations or restrictions is grounded upon the great anaesthetic delusion. This misinterpretation of facts, this misunderstanding of scientific statements, constitutes the most singular delusion of the present time.
What is anaesthesia? It has been defined as a state of insensibility to external impressions, sometimes introduced by disease, but more generally in modern surgery by the inhalation of the vapours of ether or chloroform. The discovery of the properties of these drugs constitutes a very interesting chapter in the story of scientific achievement; but in this connection the chief point of interest lies in the fact that the most wonderful of all advances in medicine was made without resort to the vivisection of animals. Sir Benjamin Ward Richardson, an English scientist who had much to do with its various methods, tells us that "the instauration of general anaesthesia came from experiments on man alone; there is no suspicion of any experiment on a lower animal in connection with it"; and Professor Bigelow, of Harvard Medical School, as we have seen, makes the same statement.
The extent to which insensibility may be carried depends entirely on the amount of the vapour inhaled. Suppose the quantity to be very small. Then the result will be a diminished sensibility, without entire loss of consciousness. Let the quantity inhaled be considerably increase, and we may produce a profound stupor with muscular relaxation, the eyes are fixed, and the eyelids do not respond when the eyeball is touched. There is now deep anaesthesia, and complete unconsciousness to the surgeon's knife. The borderline between life and death is not distant; and if still more of the anaesthetic is administered, we may reach a condition from which there is no awakening. The skill of the anaesthetist is not unlike that of a pilot, who needs to know just how far the ship may be steered in a difficult channel without running upon the rocks.
For a slight operation, a very little of the drug will often suffice. In some hospitals abroad—and perhaps in America—it is the custom not to give anaesthetics to charity patients when the pain is not greater than the extraction of a tooth. Between a light anaesthesia and the deep insensibility required for some capital operation, THERE IS EVERY CONCEIVABLE DEGREE. We see the same thing in ordinary sleep. The deep unconsciousness of a thoroughly exhausted man is vastly different from the light slumber of an anxious mother, who is aroused by a word or touch. Yet both conditions are what we call "sleep."
Now, one of the popular delusions regarding what is called "anaesthesia" arises from ignorance of its innumerable degrees. We are told, for instance, "anaesthetics were used" in certain vivisections. That assertion alone, in a majority of cases, will quiet any criticism. If "anaesthetics were used," then the average reader assumes that of course there was no pain. The experimenter may know better. But if ignorance persists in misinterpreting statements of fact, it is possible that he may think he is not obliged to make the truth plain, to his positive disadvantage. If such method of reasoning ever obtains, it may explain very much.
And yet it would seem that only very ignorant people could be so blinded by authority as not to perceive where the fallacy lies. A slight amount of ether or chloroform may mean to a vivisected animal no protection whatever from extreme pain. The fact has long been known. Many years ago Dr. George Hoggan declared that "complete and conscientious anaesthesia is seldom even attempted, the animal getting at most a slight whiff of chloroform by way of satisfying the conscience of the operator, OR OF ENABLING HIM TO MAKE STATEMENTS OF A HUMANE CHARACTER." In other words, it enables him to say, "Anaesthetics are always used." Shall we always be blind to the insignificance of that phrase?
That chloroform or ether will suppress the consciousness of pain during a surgical operation, every reader is aware. But when we speak of certain vivisections, we are on different ground. The pains to be inflicted are sometimes far more excruciating than any surgical operation. In the stimulation of sensory nerves, and in various operations upon these nerves, there may be excited agonies so great that they break through the limited unconsciousness induced by chloroform. One of the most experienced vivisectors in America has given his testimony on this point. Speaking of his experiments upon some of the most exquisitely sensitive nerves, Dr. Flint says: "WHEN we have used anaesthetics"—not the significance of the phrase—"WE COULD NEVER PUSH THE EFFECTS SUFFICIENTLY TO ABOLISH THE SENSIBILITY OF THE ROOT OF THE NERVE. If an animal, brought so fully under the influence of ether that the conjunctiva had become absolutely insensible" (the degree of insensibility required by the surgeon), "the instant the instrument touched the root of the nerve in the cranium, THERE WERE EVIDENCES OF ACUTE PAIN."[1] Of other experiments upon the same nerves he tells us that "in using anaesthetics, we have never been able to bring an animal under their influence SO COMPLETELY AS TO ABOLISH THE SENSIBILITY…. In cats that appear to be thoroughly etherized, as soon as the instrument touches the nerve, there is more or less struggling."[2]
[1] Flint's "Physiology," vol. iv., p. 97. [2] Flint's "Physiology," vol. iv., p. 193.
This statement needs to be remembered. The agony may be so keen, so exquisite, so far beyond the pain of a surgical operation, that it makes itself felt. Pain, then, conquers the anaesthetic, exactly as the anaesthetic usually conquers the pain.
What, then, is the value of the phrase, "ANAESTHETICS WERE USED"?Dr. Hoggan has told us. It has no value whatever.
Sir Thornley Stoker, President of the Royal Academy of Medicine in Ireland, and an inspector of laboratories under the Act, was questioned about the pain endured by an animal in course of a prolonged vivisection, and he frankly admitted that a vivisector "could do no more than give an opinion. He could have no CERTAINTY as to the entire absence, the continuous absence, of pain."[2] Dr. Thane, a professor at University Medical College, London, and a Government inspector, being asked whether one might not be able to distinguish between painful and painless experiments, replied that "the inspector never could distinguish exactly which experiments were painless and which were painful, AND THE EXPERIMENTERS AND OBSERVERS THEMSELVES cannot distinguish IN A VERY LARGE NUMBER OF CASES."[3]
[2] Evidence before Royal Commission, Question 1,064. [3] Ibid., Question 1,335.
These are the opinions of experts. This attitude of uncertainty is the only ground possible for a scientific man who aims at stating the whole truth. When a professional vivisector gives us assurance that no pain was felt during the severest operations, he is only putting forth an opinion. He is but mortal. We are not obliged to assume his infallibility in a region where experts are in doubt, and where there may be a desire for concealment.
During the last decade of the nineteenth century, a work was published describing in detail experiments upon surgical shock—so termed to distinguish it from a similar condition arising from overwhelming emotions. These experiments were almost exclusively made upon dogs, man's faithful friend and companion; and their number was so great and their character so horrible that their publication at first excited general criticism and condemnation. At one the suggestion was put forth that the experiments were painless, because "anaesthetics were employed." The vivisector had said:
"In all cases the animals were anaesthetized, usually by the use of ether, occasionally by chloroform, either alone or with ether. In a few cases CURARE AND MORPHINE WERE USED."
In a number of succeeding volumes, the same assertion has been put forth; and as understood by the average reader, it has tended to dispel doubts regarding the character of the experiments. It seems worth while to examine the account of these investigations a little closely. The question for us is not whether anaesthetics were employed, but to what extent we may find ourselves assured regarding their efficiency in abolishing sensibility in every case.
The experiments in question were of a peculiar kind. They differ in certain respects from anything to be found in the records of American vivisection. The number of dogs sacrificed—148—was far greater than seems necessary to establish any working hypothesis. It would appear that the methods of vivisection selected were generally designed for the purpose of making the strongest possible impression, and, if consciousness was present, the sharpest pangs that human ingenuity could invent were repeatedly inflicted. The most sensitive parts of the body were crushed in various ways. The lungs were stabbed, or shot through; the intestines were lifted from the body, and burned or placed in boiling water; the nerves were exposed and scraped; loops of intestines were manipulated or crushed; the ear was penetrated; the jaws were opened as far as "the maximal normal separation," and then by extraordinary force separated still more; the paws were crushed, and sometimes burnt by the application of a Bunsen's flame; the stomach was dilated by pumping air and water into it till the stomach burst; one animal was subjected to "all kinds of operations for a period of three hours more," including the cutting out of kidneys and double hip-joint amputations; another suffered the opening of the abdomen, the crushing of the kidneys, "severe manipulation of the eye," "severe manipulation of the tongue, puncture, crushing," etc., and lastly, a "stimulation of the sciatic nerve"; in one case, the paw "was placed in boiling water for a considerable time"; in another, "boiling water was poured into the abdominal cavity"; in yet another, flame was applied over the heart. I am not quoting all this from memory; the work describing all these experiments lies open before me as I write. No Iroquois savage, no Spanish inquisitor, no professional tormentor of any age ever devised more exquisite torments, more excruciating agonies, more lengthened tortures than these 148 vivisections imply—UNLESS, THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE EXPERIMENT THE COMPLETE INSENSIBILITY OF THE VICTIMS WAS SECURED BY RECOGNIZED ANAESTHETICS, BEYOND THE POSSIBILITY OF DOUBT.
Such assurance as this it is now impossible for anyone to give with scientific certainty. The absolute insensibility of each and every animal thus vivisected cannot be demonstrated. On the contrary, there are reasons which compel belief that, in many instances, these vivisections implied the most horrible and prolonged torments that the practice of animal experimentation has ever been permitted to evoke.
What are some of these reasons?
FIRST. In the work describing these experiments, the author hasnowhere asserted that EACH ANIMAL SUBJECTED TO EXPERIMENT WAS FROM THEBEGINNING TO THE END SO DEEPLY AND PROFOUNDLY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OFETHER OR CHLOROFORM AS TO BE TOTALLY UNCONSCIOUS OF PAIN.
Now, the omission of this statement is peculiarly significant. If it had been possible, we may be quite sure that such a statement would have been made. Suppose, for example, that in place of vague generalities the experimenter had said:
"Before the commencement of each experiment, the animal was deeply anaesthetized by the inhalation of chloroform or ether, or both; and the insensibility thus induced before the experiment began was maintained until the death of the animal. Curare was never used. In no instance and at no time during any experiment was the anaesthesia otherwise than profound; the corneal reflex was never to be obtained, nor was any other sign of sensibility to pain ever to be noted."
A statement like this would have been definite. But with due regard for truth, it could not have been made. Instead of an explicit statement, we have merely the assertion—so easily misunderstood— that "in all cases the animals were anaesthetized." And this statement may mean nothing whatever, so far as concerns the painlessness of these vivisections.
It is a well-known fact that dogs are peculiarly susceptible to chloroform, and very likely to die while under its influence. The president of the Royal Academy of Medicine in Ireland, a teacher of science for many years, Sir Thornley Stoker, stated in his testimony that a dog's heart is very weak and irregular. "I fear that in the case of dogs, anaesthesia is not always pushed to a sufficient extent, as these animals often die from the effects of the anaesthetic if given to a full extent…. THE ANAESTHESIA CANNOT BE COMPLETE, if the dog lives as long as is necessary for some of these experiments."[1]
[1] Testimony before Royal Commission, Questions 761, 836.
Now, one of these experiments lasted over three hours, and many of them over an hour. How many of the 148 animals died because the anaesthesia was TOO DEEP?
On this point the admissions of the experimenter seem especially significant. "OVER-ANAESTHESIA rendered the animals subject to early collapse, and decidedly less capable of enduring a protracted experiment." During certain experiments, "CONSIDERABLE CARE was necessary to prevent excessive inhalation of the anaesthetic by the animal." And yet all that could happen to the unfortunate victim would be a painless death; to prevent that would require, doubtless, considerable care. "If the animals were allowed PARTIALLY TO RECOVER FROM THE EFFECT OF THE ANAESTHETIC, care was necessary in reducing them again to surgical anaesthesia, as an excess of the anaesthetic was liable to be inhaled."[1] This admission is evidence complete, that the insensibility was not always maintained from beginning to end; the creatures were in some cases—how many we can never know— "ALLOWED PARTIALLY TO RECOVER."
In the detailed accounts of these vivisections, we find more than one proof of the sensibility of the animals. Take the following:
EXPERIMENT 126. "The animal did not take the anaesthetic well, and part of the experiment was made under INCOMPLETE ANAESTHESIA." There was noted, also, "contraction of the abdominal muscles, on account of INCOMPLETE ANAESTHESIA."
EXPERIMENT 133. "Bunsen's flame to the right paw…. In the control experiments, as well as this, THE DOG WAS NOT UNDER FULL ANAESTHESIA … THE ANIMAL STRUGGLED ON APPLICATION OF THE FLAME."
EXPERIMENT 5. "UNDER INCOMPLETE ANAESTHESIA, crushing of foot caused a very sharp rise, followed by an equally sharp decline of pressure. THIS WAS REPEATED SEVERAL TIMES. Under full anaesthesia crushing of paws caused rise again."
EXPERIMENT 4. "First, crushing of paw…. Second, crushed foot extensively, JUST BEFORE CORNEAL REFLEX WAS ABOLISHED."
To the average reader the last few words convey no definite meaning, but their significance is plain. Until the corneal reflex is abolished, the surgeon does not begin to operate, for sensibility remains. It is needless to quote further; even a single instance of incomplete anaesthesia, admitted by the vivisector himself, suffices to overturn the claim that the insensibility was complete in every case. "Words," says Bishop Butler, "mean what they do mean, and not other things"; and no amount of literary juggling can prove that whether the insensibility is complete or incomplete, the pain is precisely the same.
The use of CURARE rests upon the admission of the vivisector himself. After mentioning the employment of chloroform and ether, as before quoted, he adds: "In a few cases, CURARE and MORPHIA were used." Now, these drugs are not anaesthetics, and curare especially is only used when it is desired to keep the vivisected creature incapable of any movement—no matter what degree of torment it may be suffering. In his textbook on physiology, Professor Holmgren calls curare the "most cruel of poisons," because an animal under its influence "it changes instantly into a living corpse which hears and sees, and knows everything, but is unable to move a single muscle; and under its influence no creature can give the faintest indication of its hopeless condition." Dr. Starling, the professor of physiology at University College, London, states that when an animal has had an anaesthetic administered and also a dose of CURARE, if the anaesthetic passed off, the animal would be unable to move, or to show any sign of suffering.
Nor is morphia an anaesthetic. "So far from suppressing sensibility completely," says Claude Be'rnard in his lectures, "morphine sometimes seems to exaggerate it." An animal under its influence "FEELS THE PAIN, BUT HAS LOST THE IDEA OF DEFENDING HIMSELF."
We should have been very glad if the author had stated in his book the precise experiments in which curare and morphia were employed. We are told that the number was "few." But in comparison with the total number—146—how many may that phrase signify? Were there twenty? Possibly. It would seem that in every case after the preliminary administration of anaesthetics—the dog's throat was cut, so that artificial respiration could be easily maintained; "tracheotomy was performed," to use the scientific phraseology. This is done when curare is given, for then not the slightest movement of the tortured animal can disturb the delicate instruments which are attached to it. We may therefore assume that every case wherein only curare and morphia were used—how many there were we do not know—implied torment for the wretched victims.