that one could not but pause and admire the courage and spirit which sustained him. If, during his active life, he had secured the confidence of his patients by his fidelity and by a decision of character which betrayed no doubt, he did more in winning their attachment by his unremitting kindness and attention, his discriminating perception of their character and wants, by his social qualities, his cordiality, and by the many traits which assured to him also a devoted affection in the nearer and narrower relations of his home."

These sentiments awakened many a responsive echo even from the other side of the Atlantic, where Dr. Warren had created a permanent respect for his talents and acquirements. In the "Dublin Quarterly Journal" for November, 1867, one reads: "America has lost in him one of her ablest sons, one whose reputation had long since reached these shores, as an earnest worker and most successful surgeon. This year has cost us many who stood in the position of well-nigh personal friends."1

The following tender and appreciative remembrance of Dr. Warren from his life-long friend Dr. Henry I. Bowditch, from which a short extract has been already given, needs not to be commended to any of the readers of this memoir in order to insure its perusal. Interesting in itself, it will bear an added grace and meaning in the minds of those who are aware how early the intimacy between these two eminent men began. It was an intimacy which gradually grew from small beginnings and at length deepened into mutual affection, as each realized the other's sterling merits and the profound stability of that broad basis on which their attachment actually rested.

1 The summer of 1867 was sadly memorable in the medical and surgical professions. Reference has heretofore been made to the death of Velpeau in August of that year, while the preceding June had already witnessed the decease of the illustrious Civiale, the inventor of lithotrity; of Trousseau, the eminent physician and rival in fame of Velpeau; of Sir William Lawrence, and of other luminaries only less brilliant. In August Dr. James Jackson also passed from earth.

LETTER FROM DR. BOWDITCH.

269

Death might sunder the tie that bound them together, but neither death nor time can ever extinguish in the mind of the survivor the sweet savor of its invigorating memory,

"When memory

Is all that can remain

The Indian summer of the soul,

That kindly comes again

Reviving with its souvenirs

The loves and hopes of early years."

DEAR SIR, I regret that I promised to write to you about my excellent friend Dr. J. Mason Warren. Not that I would not desire to express my warmest admiration of him as a man and as a professional associate, but because, although I knew and really loved him for many years, I have no incidents to relate which will materially aid his biographer.

Mason's life—all who knew him called him familiarly by his middle name was, comparatively speaking, uneventful. He never thrust himself forward. He was satisfied with doing the daily round of duty and of courtesy, and the courteous gentleman performed these offices well.

I was in Paris with him. We occupied adjacent rooms at the Hôtel de l'Odéon, Place de l'Odéon, for nearly a year. But our lines of study lay in entirely different fields. I followed Louis and Andral and Chomel in medicine; he sought instruction in surgery at the feet of Dupuytren, Lisfranc, Velpeau, and Roux, whose cliniques I never attended because it seemed a waste of time for me to do so. But to Mason Warren, who was destined to ably fill the places of his grandfather and father in surgery, these great Paris surgeons were of incalculable advantage. Moreover, as I was desirous of learning to speak French as soon and as thoroughly as possible, I kept aloof to a certain degree from all Americans, and took my meals with French and Swiss medical and law students.

The result of these arrangements was that though living near him I rarely saw Mason, save when we accidentally met as neighbors. What I did know of him was always agreeable and of excellent tone, if I may so speak. No one ever heard aught against him. On the contrary, the record of his life, as written in the minds of all of us, was that of a pure-minded, earnest

youth, devoted to the high purpose of a thorough surgical education. This was in 1832 and 1833; and of all those Americans who were students with us, the memory of no one is sweeter than that I have of him.

After our return home we went on together always harmoniously, and in Mason's skill as a surgeon I had unbounded confidence after the following incident.

I had a very severe case of croup,- -a child of one of my most intimate friends. An operation was needed, and as a matter of course I called upon Mason's father, Dr. John C. Warren, whom I had always looked upon as equal, if not superior, to any surgeon I had met, not only in America but in Europe. I supposed that, as I had requested, he would operate; and to my astonishment, not to use a stronger term, I saw the father, after making all arrangements for the operation, and without a single word of counsel from me, resign the scalpel into the hands of my young friend. It was too late to protest, and I simply thought within myself, "I put the responsibility on you, sir; and there it rests, even if you operate through the hands of another." But my satisfaction was more than I can express when I observed the skill of hand and perfect self-possession of Mason. His father knew to whom he could trust.

For myself I always, after that incident, called upon the junior, and he never failed to come up to my idea of the perfect

surgeon.

Mason, I think, had another quality which is too often wanting in men skilled in any department; namely, a power of looking at dispassionately and deciding with fairness upon ideas and plans of action differing from those usually employed by himself and by other professional men, and to which, in fact, the general rules of our art were opposed.

I experienced his kindly courtesy and his willingness to inquire into a new subject very soon after I began operating upon the chest for removal of fluid therefrom by means of the delicate instrument suggested by Dr. Morrill Wyman. I knew that surgery did not uphold me, and I knew also that the usual operation for thoracentesis, as performed by surgeons, would not answer my purpose, which was to get fluid from the chest by a simple, comparatively easy and innocent process, instead of the bloody operation by scalpel.

LETTER FROM DR. BOWDITCH.

271

Mason had seen this latter operation done by his father on one of my patients at the hospital. When I commenced operating, Mason, as I have stated, treated my suggestion with candor, and asked to be allowed to see me do it. I was no surgeon; but I felt compelled to operate, because the surgeons, except Dr. Wyman, opposed the plan. Mason, I may say, was the only professed surgeon who at first after seeing the process heartily sustained it, instead of ridiculing or ignoring it, as the chief surgeons of that day did. They all use Wyman's method now at first, though in chronic cases they use the scalpel.

I felt very grateful to Mason. I mention the fact simply to illustrate a trait in his character. It showed alike his kindness of heart and also his ability to look at more sides than one of any question.

During his long illness we all pitied him because we more than respected him.

I look back now with poignant regret at the thought that what I supposed was the result of a partial weakness of mind and of hypochondriasis was in reality only a desire to save himself from excruciating pains incident to that fatal complaint which finally caused his death after years of suffering.

I am sorry that I cannot give you anything of real value; but perhaps what I have written may suggest a thought or two to aid you in your undertaking. If in any way I can further aid you by conversation, I shall be happy to do so. A talk upon Mason Warren's life, and of his many gentle and excellent qualities, would always suggest to me pleasant and kindly thoughts, although perhaps at times accompanied with pain at the remembrance of his persistent suffering and ill-health. I remain respectfully yours,

HENRY I. BOWDITCH.

CHAPTER XVII.

DR. WARREN'S CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS.-HIS HIGH IDEAL. PECULIAR MERITS BOTH

PROFESSIONAL RELATIONS.

AS SURGEON AND PHYSICIAN. AT THE HOSPITAL. TREATMENT OF HIS PATIENTS AND THEIR ATTACHMENT TO HIM. TENDERNESS OF HEART.

THE numerous friends, professional and other, whom Dr. Warren gathered about him during his successful career, ever recognized, and the world at large gladly acknowledged, those sterling virtues with which he was so richly endowed. In life he ever stood prominently before them as the model of a manly character. Born under the smiles of fortune; enjoying the prestige of long-descended repute, ample talents, wealth, and social position, he regarded all these but as means to an end, and that a worthy one. They were but incentives to a noble goal, a goal of grander proportions and more difficult attainment from his own sense of responsibility for all the advantages he had inherited. His ideal was the natural offspring of his character, and he never forgot that all the more was expected of him from the very fact that fate had placed him on a higher pedestal than others. His love for his profession was such as neither furious tempests nor soft seductions could quench; and it quickened and inspired his life to the end with an enthusiasm which triumphed over failing health, acute pain, and a growing weakness that daily brought him nearer and nearer to inevitable death.

His energy with all its fervor was guided to great results by a judgment that was ever sound, penetrating, and