102 



SCIENCE 



[N. S. Vol. XXXVIII. No. 969 



tected against the infection of ideas — but 

 it sometimes happens that our resistances 

 are, particularly low and if then the idea be 

 "exhibited" in a peculiarly virulent form, 

 it "takes" and the experiment is counted 

 a success. 



I turn now to the topic of the hour. The 

 notion of progress which I wish to use neg- 

 lects sheer turmoil and in a measure mere 

 accumulative work — and puts the emphasis 

 on our advance in leading ideas and guid- 

 ing principles. 



It is your relation then to such progres- 

 sive changes in medicine, the effect which 

 these changes have on your intellectual life 

 and economic opportunities, and in return 

 the influence which you, as physicians, can 

 exercise on the advancement of your sci- 

 ence, which I purpose to present. 



My point of view is that of the labora- 

 tory man working in a field cognate to 

 medicine, and my attitude is one of en- 

 couragement to yourselves and sympathy 

 with the ills of the communitj^ that needs 

 your aid. 



By way of introduction let me call your 

 attention to the fact that the idea of prog- 

 ress for humanity — so familiar to us now 

 — is really rather new. 



The most ancient view is well illustrated 

 by an allegory taken from an Arabian 

 manuscript of the thirteenth century. I 

 use the translation given by Lyell in his 

 "Principles of Geology." 



It serves to show how, in the absence of 

 sufficient records, changes may be easily 

 forgotten, and it runs as follows: 



I passed one day by a very ancient and wonder- 

 fully populous city, and asked one of its inhabit- 

 ants how long it had been founded. "It is indeed 

 a mighty city, ' ' replied he ; "we know not how 

 long it has existed, and our ancestors were on this 

 subject as ignorant as ourselves." Five centuries 

 afterwards, as I passed by the same place, I could 

 not perceive the slightest vestige of the city. I 

 demanded of a peasant, who was gathering herbs 



upon its former site, how long it had been de- 

 stroyed. ' ' In sooth a strange question ! ' ' replied 

 he. ' ' Tl^e ground here has never been different 

 from what you now behold it. " " "Was there not 

 of old," said I, "a splendid city here?" 

 ' ' Never, ' ' answered he, "so far as we have seen, 

 and never did our fathers speak to us of any 

 such. ' ' 



On my return there five hundred years after- 

 wards, I found the sea in the same place, and on 

 its sliores were a party of fishermen, of whom I 

 enquired how long the land had been covered by 

 the waters. ' ' Is this a question, ' ' said they, ' ' for 

 a man like you? This spot has always been what 

 it is now." . . . 



Lastly, on coming back again after an equal 

 lapse of time, I found there a flourishing city, 

 more populous and more rich in beautiful build- 

 ings than the city I had seen the first time, and 

 when I would fain have informed myself concern- 

 ing its origin, the inhabitants answered me: "Its 

 rise is lost in remote antiquity: we are ignorant 

 how long it has existed, and our fathers were on 

 this subject as ignorant as ourselves." 



To the people of this legend not only was 

 the past unknown, but for them the future 

 also must have shaped itself as an endless 

 prolongation of the present. To talk to 

 them about the scientific use of the imagi- 

 nation would have been a thankless task. 

 They merely drifted on the stream of time. 



"When, however, the historical records 

 were at hand and the great events were 

 noted, attention turned to the possible 

 changes in man himself. 



During the twelve hundred years when 

 western Europe was adjusting itself to the 

 new order of things, men looked back to 

 the great classic past as something beyond 

 repetition or improvement, counting its 

 leading men as of a vanished race of intel- 

 lectual prodigies. 



In his studies on ' ' The Mediseval Mind, ' ' 

 Taylor quotes a writer of the time as fol- 

 lows: 



Bernard of Chartres used to say that "we were 

 like dwarfs seated on the shoulders of giants. If 

 we see more and further than they, it is not due 

 to our own clear eyes or tall bodies, but because 



