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Women Artists
on the Leading Edge
Women Artists
on the Leading Edge
VISUAL ART S AT DOUGL A SS COLLEGE

JOAN MARTER

RUP Spine Logos


(Black, Red, White)

Logo A Logo B Logo C Logo D Logo E


.5” .625” .675” .725” .75” to 1”+

RU TG ER S U N IV ERS IT Y PRES S
N E W B R U N S W I C K • CA M D E N • N E WA R K , N E W J E R S E Y
LONDON
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Marter, Joan M., author, interviewer.


Title: Women artists on the leading edge : visual arts at Douglass College / Joan Marter.
Description: New Brunswick : Rutgers University Press, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references
and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019002218 | ISBN 9780813593340 (cloth)
Subjects: LCSH: Women art students—New Jersey—New Brunswick. | Art—Study and teaching
(Higher)—New Jersey—New Brunswick. | Douglass College—Faculty—Interviews. | Douglass
College—Students—Interviews.
Classification: LCC N330.N2952 D686 2019 | DDC 700.71/1097151--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019002218

A British Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the British Library.

Frontispiece: Alice Aycock. Miraculating Machine in the Garden (Tower of the Winds), 1980-82. Glass,
concrete, steel sheet metal, copper, neon light, and vegetation, 30' × 30' × 20' deep. Douglass College.
Photo: Mike Van Tassell.

Cover and text design by Studiolo Secondari.

Copyright © 2019 by Joan Marter


All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechan-
ical, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
Please contact Rutgers University Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only
exception to this prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law.

The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information
Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.

www.rutgersuniversitypress.org

Manufactured in the United States of America

UPDF: 978-0-8135-9338-8
To my students at Douglass College, and those
at the Mason Gross School of the Arts who studied
contemporary art with me
CON T EN T S

Introduction 1 PART 2 PART 3

Alice Aycock 35 The Women Artists Series


PART 1
Loretta Dunkelman 41 at Douglass College 133

Visual Arts Faculty at Kirsten Kraa 49 The Women Artists Series


Douglass College 9 at 25 Years 139
Frances Tannenbaum
Interview with Kuehn 53 Exhibitions at the Walters
Geoffrey Hendricks 21 Hall Art Gallery,
Linda Lindroth 61
Douglass College 143
Interview with
Marion Engelman Munk 71
Roy Lichtenstein 29 Conclusion: More on
Rita Myers 77 Douglass College
Mimi Smith 85 and Women Artists 153

Joan Snyder 93
Ann Tsubota 103 acknowledgments 157

Jackie Winsor 109 notes 159


selected bibliography 167
Interview with
Alice Aycock 117 index 171
Interview with
Letty Lou Eisenhauer 123
Interview with
Mimi Smith 127

 vii
Women Artists
on the Leading Edge
introduction

This publication serves to inform members of the art community and the public about the
singular achievements of artists who graduated from Douglass College. This book will be a
source of pride for Douglass alumnae, particularly those involved in creative endeavors. For
many decades, especially in the second half of the twentieth century, women artists flour-
ished at Douglass College and became leaders in the Feminist Art Movement.
With the support of an activist administration and dedicated faculty, young women at
Douglass became accomplished artists and exceptional role models. This book features an
account of programs, exhibitions, and events that launched these aspiring students into
successful professionals. Never before has the singular importance of Douglass College as
an institution devoted to the creativity and professional aspirations of these young women
been recognized. The Women Artists Series is a landmark, both for Douglass College’s se-
rious commitment to women’s art and as a reminder that women have not achieved equity
in the art world. Other exhibitions and events supported the professional aspirations of
women artists.
Some measure of the success of these ventures to support women artists and feminist
topics can be found in the distinguished artistic careers of certain Douglass undergraduates
and Master of Fine Arts graduates, with their impressive legacy of excellence. In order to
explore the varied and fruitful interaction of these women artists throughout the College’s
history, this project includes areas of great significance: A history of Douglass College, its
faculty, and art program, and the recognition achieved by the Master of Fine Arts graduates.

1
Art Programs at Douglass College

This publication begins with faculty and students active in the 1950s, when the New Jersey
College for Women officially becomes Douglass College. Previous to the 1950s, the teach-
ing of studio art adhered to a traditional curriculum with study from plaster versions of
statuary from the ancient world, studies of the human figure, and paintings and drawings
of still life and landscape subjects. The 1950s ushered in a new curriculum, and Dean Mary
Bunting, who supported avant-garde developments in the creative arts.
From the progressive agenda of Dean Mary Bunting and the faculty, who explored a
range of new ideas and approaches to artmaking, to the avant-garde events presented by
the Voorhees Assembly Board, the women’s college at Rutgers found itself on the leading
edge of midcentury art world events. Initially there were prominent members of the Pop
Art and Fluxus movements who were instructors in the visual arts. Happenings and art
installations took place on campus. As Douglass quickly recognized a burgeoning feminist
involvement among the students, programs were initiated, lectures were arranged, and
distinguished initiators of the women’s art movement, such as Judy Chicago and Faith
Ringgold, were invited to campus. Later the Guerrilla Girls, Karen Finley, and other artists
performed at Douglass.
Undergraduates began curating exhibitions of women artists to be shown in the Doug­
lass College Art Gallery and in the Douglass Library. For example, in 1979 an exhibition
entitled Expressions of Self: Women and Autobiography was organized by undergraduates
in Professor Marter’s Workshop in Curatorial Practices. A 1980 exhibition, Fragments of
Myself/the Women, organized by students for the Douglass College Art Gallery, included
African American artists Emma Amos, Camille Billops, Howardena Pindell, and Faith Ring-
gold, among others.
Among the renowned artists who were undergraduates at Douglass College are Alice
Aycock, Rita Myers, and Joan Snyder. Recollections by these artists about their time on
campus, and reminiscences of other graduates are included in this book.

The Master of Fine Arts Program

It was 1962 when the first students completed the master of fine arts degree at Douglass
College. Among the early graduates of the MFA program were Mimi Smith, Jackie Winsor,

2 W O M E N A RT I S T S O N T H E L E A D I N G E D G E
Joan Snyder, Rita Myers, Loretta Dunkelman, Ann Tsubota, and Marion Levinston Munk.
Based in part on the pedagogy of Black Mountain College, and heavily indebted to John
Cage’s media course at the New School, the curriculum at Douglass emphasized artistic
innovation and links to everyday experience: the cutting edge of a new Art. Although there
were differences in methods, materials, and approaches to artmaking, similar themes and
goals characterize the MFA pedagogy at Douglass. As Mimi Smith has often expressed it, “I
was taught that anything could be art.” And anything was art for many faculty and students
alike. Art could be derived from the ordinary world of experience (as in household items),
and art could incorporate state-of-the-art media (film and photography combined). Art
could be related to the body, or it could have a phenomenological reference. It could be a
combination of performance and environment; it could be ephemeral or lasting. The faculty
opened up a full range of possibilities for the students. The book includes essays based
on interviews with distinguished graduates, who consider the importance of their study
with the art faculty of Douglass College. A full range of art will be featured here: paint-
ing, sculpture, photography, and multimedia works. Mason Gross School of the Visual and
Performing Arts was established at Rutgers in 1975. Before that time the graduate program
in visual arts was centered at Douglass College, and many of the Douglass art faculty were
involved in the MFA curriculum.
After the Mason Gross School formed, the graduate students moved to a downtown
location. Some classes were taught at Douglass, but the curriculum and the administration
were separate from the Douglass College program.

The Women Artists Series (Later the Mary H. Dana Women Artists Series)

From its inception in 1971, the shows of the Women Artists Series were installed in the
Mabel Smith Douglass Library, where all students and faculty would be informed of
the achievements of women. In addition to providing role models of gifted women for
the Doug­lass students, the Women Artists Series served as an important political mile-
stone. Initiated at a time when critical attention to women’s work was negligible, the series
continues now in a period of greater, but still limited, acceptance of women in commercial
galleries and museums. Still today, when there are more exciting and talented women art-
ists than ever before, there remains a need to celebrate the accomplishments of outstanding

INTRO DUCTION 3
women professionals. At Douglass, this series continues as a model of support for wom-
en by women. These shows both inform and enrich the campus community. It is evident
that many women artists benefited from their exhibitions at Douglass College. For some,
inclusion in the series provided their first opportunity for a solo exhibition. The artists were
able to reach a different audience from those who frequent New York galleries—initially
the Women Artists Series was an important source of role models for aspiring art students.
The history of the series, and key moments in the decades of commitment to contemporary
women artists are part of the history of Douglass College. Joan Snyder, the initiator of this
well-recognized project, addresses its importance and legacy in her discussion of the Wom-
en Artist Series and its history.

4 W O M E N A RT I S T S O N T H E L E A D I N G E D G E
Visual Arts Faculty at
Douglass College

When Douglass College expanded the visual arts offerings in earnest, it was the 1950s, a
time when many exciting changes were happening on the campus. Mary Ingraham Bun-
ting became the dean,1 and she was eager to promote avant-garde approaches to the visual
and performing arts. Was it just coincidental that Robert Watts, who had been hired for the
engineering program in 1952, transferred to the art department the following year to teach
sculpture and ceramics? By the fall semester Watts was showing abstract paintings at the
Douglass College Art Gallery. Also in 1953 Allan Kaprow was hired at Rutgers College (the
all-male undergraduate college) to teach art history and art. A remarkable interaction of
faculty and students commenced on both campuses. At Douglass, the students were intro-
duced to a whole range of new approaches to artmaking. From the introductory courses on,
students were urged to experiment with new methods and materials. The Rutgers College
art department was located in a small house on College Avenue. Students were permitted to
take courses on both campuses, and occasionally Douglass students walked across town to
take a class with Kaprow.
Following the example of Black Mountain College in North Carolina, which closed in
1957, the Douglass faculty introduced students to various new trends combining art cre-
ation with performance.2 Robert Rauschenberg, who had studied at Black Mountain, was
lionized by the faculty, who urged students to see his New York exhibitions.3 In the sum-
mer of 1952, Rauschenberg had participated in an event at Black Mountain that combined
art, poetry, and dance, known later as Theatre Piece No. 1. Eventually this interdisciplinary
approach to the visual and performing arts was to spawn notable developments at Douglass
College. John Cage offered a class at the New School for Social Research in New York City,
attended by Kaprow, George Brecht, Al Hansen, and others, which was another connection
with the intermedia approach of Black Mountain College.

9
The chair of the Douglass art department was Theodore Brenson, and Robert Watts,
Sam Weiner, Mark Berger, and John Goodyear4 were among those on the faculty. Geoffrey
Hendricks, who was to be at the forefront of the Fluxus movement, joined the Douglass
faculty in 1956. Initially he taught the introductory studio class and was in charge of gal-
lery exhibitions. He was also the designated adviser to the art club (Pen & Brush). In April
1957 Watts proposed an experimental course to Dean Bunting that would integrate the arts
and sciences. He requested new media and the use of audiovisual techniques for teaching.
Hendricks recalled, “Polly Bunting, a bacteriologist, was open to these ideas and responsive
to our idea of instituting a graduate program.”5 Soon Watts had produced works with elec-
tronic components and began making mixed media assemblages in earnest. Ka Kwong Hui,
from China, was hired in 1957 to teach ceramics.6

Geoff Hendricks recalled:

Bob [Watts] and I both taught Art Structure I, the introductory studio class. The
nature of art and teaching of art were ongoing topics. I remember bringing in
recordings of musique concrete in relation to work with collage and the Mustard
Seed Manual in relation to drawing. Before I joined the faculty, Bob had taught

10 W O M E N A RT I S T S O N T H E L E A D I N G E D G E
1.1 1.2 1.3

Douglass Art Gallery, ca.1961. Left to Robert Watts and student in sculpture Ka Kwong Hui ca. 1968. Photo: Linda

right: Ruth Ann Simon, Roy Lichten- studio, ca. 1961. Courtesy: Special Lindroth.

stein, and Robert Watts. Courtesy: Spe- Collections and University Archives,

cial Collections and University Archives, Rutgers University Libraries.

Rutgers University Libraries.

sculpture and ceramics as one course. We split it


into two classes that met at the same time. I taught
sculpture. Bob taught ceramics. Our dialogue on
art and education continued. In May we took the
combined group to the Jersey shore to work with
sand, plaster, space, and the environment. The next
year, after Ka Kwong was hired, Bob returned to
sculpture, and I located some presses with the help
of Bob Blackburn and introduced printmaking. In
addition to developing a more inclusive curriculum,
we wanted a serious professional gallery program
with an international perspective and exhibitions
that would introduce a range of new art to the
campus.7

Many extraordinary events would soon be


staged at Douglass. In the spring of 1958 Watts,
Kaprow, and their associate George Brecht creat-
ed a “proto-Happening” featuring flashing lights
and sound, in two rooms of a Douglass classroom
building. The previous year Watts, Kaprow, and
Brecht had begun work on a grant proposal for
“Project in Multiple Dimensions,” to be presented
to the administration of Rutgers University and the
Carnegie Corporation. The artists sought funding
for avant-garde projects involving new technology,
and submitted their proposal in 1958.
Dean Bunting initiated the Voorhees Assemblies at Douglass. For the 1957–1958 aca-
demic year, Bob Watts was on the Voorhees Assembly Board. The theme was “communica-
tion,” and Watts helped to arrange several related programs. During the spring semester of
1958, a series of vanguard events included a performance by John Cage and David Tudor,
and the first Happening by Allan Kaprow in the Voorhees Chapel. On March 11, John Cage

V isual A rts F acult y at D ou g lass C oll e g e 11


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bubbles. Hornets, wasps, and other insects of the same description plunged
in oil, and so suffocated, emit bubbles of air from their tail whilst they are
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by the same experiment, that the valves of the veins act with such accuracy,
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its way through them:—it is certain, I say, that neither sensibly nor
insensibly, nor gradually and drop by drop, can any blood pass from the
heart by the veins.
And that no one may seek shelter in asserting that these things are so
when nature is disturbed and opposed, but not when she is left to herself
and at liberty to act; that the same things do not come to pass in morbid and
unusual states as in the healthy and natural condition; they are to be met by
saying, that if it were so, if it happened that so much blood was lost from
the farther orifice of a divided vein because nature was disturbed, still that
the incision does not close the nearer orifice, from which nothing either
escapes or can be expressed, whether nature be disturbed or not. Others
argue in the same way, maintaining that, although the blood immediately
spurts out in such profusion with every beat, when an artery is divided near
the heart, it does not therefore follow that the blood is propelled by the
pulse when the heart and artery are entire. It is most probable, however, that
every stroke impels something; and that there would be no pulse of the
container, without an impulse being communicated to the thing contained,
seems certain. Yet some, that they may seize upon a farther means of
defence, and escape the necessity of admitting the circulation, do not fear to
affirm that the arteries in the living body and in the natural state are already
so full of blood, that they are incapable of receiving another drop; and so
also of the ventricles of the heart. But it is indubitable that, whatever the
degree of distension and the extent of contraction of the heart and arteries,
they are still in a condition to receive an additional quantity of blood forced
into them, and that this is far more than is usually reckoned in grains or
drops, seems also certain. For if the ventricles become so excessively
distended that they will admit no more blood, the heart ceases to beat, (and
we have occasional opportunities of observing the fact in our vivisections,)
and, continuing tense and resisting, death by asphyxia ensues.
In the work on the Motion of the Heart and Blood, I have already
sufficiently discussed the question as to whether the blood in its motion was
attracted, or impelled, or moved by its own inherent nature. I have there
also spoken at length of the action and office, of the dilatation and
contraction of the heart, and have shown what these truly are, and how the
heart contracts during the diastole of the arteries; so that I must hold those
who take points for dispute from among them as either not understanding
the subject, or as unwilling to look at things for themselves, and to
investigate them with their own senses.[114]
For my part, I believe that no other kind of attraction can be
demonstrated in the living body save that of the nutriment, which gradually
and incessantly passes on to supply the waste that takes place in the tissues;
in the same way as the oil rises in the wick of a lamp to be consumed by the
flame. Whence I conclude that the primary and common organ of all
sensible attraction and impulsion is of the nature of sinew (nervus), or fibre,
or muscle, and this to the end that it may be contractile, that contracting it
may be shortened, and so either stretch out, draw towards, or propel. But
these topics will be better discussed elsewhere, when we speak of the
organs of motion in the animal body.
To those who repudiate the circulation because they neither see the
efficient nor final cause of it, and who exclaim, cui bono? I have yet to
reply, having hitherto taken no note of the ground of objection which they
take up. And first I own I am of opinion that our first duty is to inquire
whether the thing be or not, before asking wherefore it is? for from the facts
and circumstances which meet us in the circulation admitted, established,
the ends and objects of its institution are especially to be sought. Meantime
I would only ask, how many things we admit in physiology, pathology, and
therapeutics, the causes of which are unknown to us? That there are many,
no one doubts—the causes of putrid fevers, of revulsions, of the purgation
of excrementitious matters, among the number.
Whoever, therefore, sets himself in opposition to the circulation,
because, if it be acknowledged, he cannot account for a variety of medical
problems, nor in the treatment of diseases and the administration of
medicines, give satisfactory reasons for the phenomena that appear; or who
will not see that the precepts he has received from his teachers are false; or
who thinks it unseemly to give up accredited opinions; or who regards it as
in some sort criminal to call in question doctrines that have descended
through a long succession of ages, and carry the authority of the ancients;—
to all of these I reply: that the facts cognizable by the senses wait upon no
opinions, and that the works of nature bow to no antiquity; for indeed there
is nothing either more ancient or of higher authority than nature.
To those who object to the circulation as throwing obstacles in the way
of their explanations of the phenomena that occur in medical cases (and
there are persons who will not be content to take up with a new system,
unless it explains everything, as in astronomy), and who oppose it with their
own erroneous assumptions, such as that, if it be true, phlebotomy cannot
cause revulsion, seeing that the blood will still continue to be forced into
the affected part; that the passage of excrementitious matters and foul
humours through the heart, that most noble and principal viscus, is to be
apprehended; that an efflux and excretion, occasionally of foul and corrupt
blood, takes place from the same body, from different parts, even from the
same part and at the same time, which, were the blood agitated by a
continuous current, would be shaken and effectually mixed in passing
through the heart, and many points of the like kind admitted in our medical
schools, which are seen to be repugnant to the doctrine of the circulation,—
to them I shall not answer farther here, than that the circulation is not
always the same in every place, and at every time, but is contingent upon
many circumstances: the more rapid or slower motion of the blood, the
strength or weakness of the heart as the propelling organ, the quantity and
quality or constitution of the blood, the rigidity or laxity of the tissues, and
the like. A thicker blood, of course, moves more slowly through narrower
channels; it is more effectually strained in its passage through the substance
of the liver than through that of the lungs. It has not the same velocity
through flesh and the softer parenchymatous structures and through sinewy
parts of greater compactness and consistency: for the thinner and purer and
more spirituous part permeates more quickly, the thicker more earthy and
indifferently concocted portion moves more slowly, or is refused admission.
The nutritive portion, or ultimate aliment of the tissues, the dew or
cambium, is of a more penetrating nature, inasmuch as it has to be added
everywhere, and to everything that grows and is nourished in its length and
thickness, even to the horns, nails, hair and feathers; and then the
excrementitious matters have to be secreted in some places, where they
accumulate, and either prove a burthen or are concocted. But I do not
imagine that the excrementitious fluids or bad humours when once
separated, nor the milk, the phlegm, and the spermatic fluid, nor the
ultimate nutritive part, the dew or cambium, necessarily circulate with the
blood: that which nourishes every part adheres and becomes agglutinated to
it. Upon each of these topics and various others besides, to be discussed and
demonstrated in their several places, viz., in the physiology and other parts
of the art of medicine, as well as of the consequences, advantages or
disadvantages of the circulation of the blood, I do not mean to touch here; it
were fruitless indeed to do so until the circulation has been established and
conceded as a fact. And here the example of astronomy is by no means to
be followed, in which from mere appearances or phenomena that which is
in fact, and the reason wherefore it is so, are investigated. But as he who
inquires into the cause of an eclipse must be placed beyond the moon if he
would ascertain it by sense, and not by reason, still, in reference to things
sensible, things that come under the cognizance of the senses, no more
certain demonstration or means of gaining faith can be adduced than
examination by the senses, than ocular inspection.
There is one remarkable experiment which I would have every one try
who is anxious for truth, and by which it is clearly shown that the arterial
pulse is owing to the impulse of the blood. Let a portion of the dried
intestine of a dog or wolf, or any other animal, such as we see hung up in
the druggists’ shops, be taken and filled with water, and then secured at both
ends like a sausage: by tapping with the finger at one extremity, you will
immediately feel a pulse and vibration in any other part to which you apply
the fingers, as you do when you feel the pulse at the wrist. In this way,
indeed, and also by means of a distended vein, you may accurately either in
the dead or living body, imitate and show every variety of the pulse,
whether as to force, frequency, volume, rhythm, &c. Just as in a long
bladder full of fluid, or in an oblong drum, every stroke upon one end is
immediately felt at the other; so also in a dropsy of the belly and in
abscesses under the skin, we are accustomed to distinguish between
collections of fluid and of air, between anasarca and tympanites in
particular. If a slap or push given on one side is clearly felt by a hand placed
on the other side, we judge the case to be tympanites[?]; not, as falsely
asserted, because we hear a sound like that of a drum, and this produced by
flatus, which never happens[?]; but because, as in a drum, every the
slightest tap passes through and produces a certain vibration on the opposite
side; for it indicates that there is a serous and ichorous substance present, of
such a consistency as urine, and not any sluggish or viscid matter as in
anasarca, which when struck retains the impress of the blow or pressure,
and does not transmit the impulse.
Having brought forward this experiment I may observe, that a most
formidable objection to the circulation of the blood rises out of it, which,
however, has neither been observed nor adduced by any one who has
written against me. When we see by the experiment just described, that the
systole and diastole of the pulse can be accurately imitated without any
escape of fluid, it is obvious that the same thing may take place in the
arteries from the stroke of the heart, without the necessity for a circulation,
but like Euripus, with a mere motion of the blood alternately backwards and
forwards. But we have already satisfactorily replied to this difficulty; and
now we venture to say that the thing could not be so in the arteries of a
living animal; to be assured of this it is enough to see that the right auricle
is incessantly injecting the right ventricle of the heart with blood, the return
of which is effectually prevented by the tricuspid valves; the left auricle in
like manner filling the left ventricle, the return of the blood there being
opposed by the mitral valves; and then the ventricles in their turn are
propelling the blood into either great artery, the reflux in each being
prevented by the sigmoid valves in its orifice. Either, consequently, the
blood must move on incessantly through the lungs, and in like manner
within the arteries of the body, or stagnating and pent up, it must rupture the
containing vessels, or choke the heart by over distension, as I have shown it
to do in the vivisection of a snake, described in my book on the Motion of
the Blood. To resolve this doubt I shall relate two experiments among many
others, the first of which, indeed, I have already adduced, and which show
with singular clearness that the blood flows incessantly and with great force
and in ample abundance in the veins towards the heart. The internal jugular
vein of a live fallow deer having been exposed, (many of the nobility and
his most serene majesty the king, my master, being present,) was divided;
but a few drops of blood were observed to escape from the lower orifice
rising up from under the clavicle; whilst from the superior orifice of the
vein and coming down from the head, a round torrent of blood gushed forth.
You may observe the same fact any day in practising phlebotomy: if with a
finger you compress the vein a little below the orifice, the flow of blood is
immediately arrested; but the pressure being removed, forthwith the flow
returns as before.
From any long vein of the forearm get rid of the blood as much as
possible by holding the hand aloft and pressing the blood towards the trunk,
you will perceive the vein collapsed and leaving, as it were, in a furrow of
the skin; but now compress the vein with the point of a finger, and you will
immediately perceive all that part of it which is towards the hand, to enlarge
and to become distended with the blood that is coming from the hand. How
comes it when the breath is held and the lungs thereby compressed, a large
quantity of air having been taken in, that the vessels of the chest are at the
same time obstructed, the blood driven into the face, and the eyes rendered
red and suffused? Why is it, as Aristotle asks in his problems, that all the
actions are more energetically performed when the breath is held than when
it is given? In like manner, when the frontal and lingual veins are incised,
the blood is made to flow more freely by compressing the neck and holding
the breath. I have several times opened the breast and pericardium of a man
within two hours after his execution by hanging, and before the colour had
totally left the face, and in presence of many witnesses, have demonstrated
the right auricle of the heart and the lungs distended with blood; the auricle
in particular of the size of a large man’s fist, and so full of blood that it
looked as if it would burst. This great distension, however, had disappeared
next day, the body having stiffened and become cold, and the blood having
made its escape through various channels. These and other similar facts,
therefore, make it sufficiently certain that the blood flows through the
whole of the veins of the body towards the base of the heart, and that unless
there was a further passage afforded it, it would be pent up in these
channels, or would oppress and overwhelm the heart; as on the other hand,
did it not flow outwards by the arteries, but was found regurgitating, it
would soon be seen how much it would oppress.
I add another observation. A noble knight, Sir Robert Darcy, an ancestor
of that celebrated physician and most learned man, my very dear friend Dr.
Argent, when he had reached to about the middle period of life, made
frequent complaint of a certain distressing pain in the chest, especially in
the night season; so that dreading at one time syncope, at another
suffocation in his attacks he led an unquiet and anxious life. He tried many
remedies in vain, having had the advice of almost every medical man. The
disease going on from bad to worse, he by and by became cachectic and
dropsical, and finally, grievously distressed, he died in one of his
paroxysms. In the body of this gentleman, at the inspection of which there
were present Dr. Argent, then president of the College of Physicians, and
Dr. Gorge, a distinguished theologian and preacher, who was pastor of the
parish, we found the wall of the left ventricle of the heart ruptured, having a
rent in it of size sufficient to admit any of my fingers, although the wall
itself appeared sufficiently thick and strong; this laceration had apparently
been caused by an impediment to the passage of the blood from the left
ventricle into the arteries.
I was acquainted with another strong man, who having received an
injury and affront from one more powerful than himself, and upon whom he
could not have his revenge, was so overcome with hatred and spite and
passion, which he yet communicated to no one, that at last he fell into a
strange distemper, suffering from extreme oppression and pain of the heart
and breast, and the prescriptions of none of the very best physicians proving
of any avail, he fell in the course of a few years into a scorbutic and
cachectic state, became tabid and died. This patient only received some
little relief when the whole of his chest was pummelled or kneaded by a
strong man, as a baker kneads dough. His friends thought him poisoned by
some maleficent influence, or possessed with an evil spirit. His jugular
arteries, enlarged to the size of the thumb, looked like the aorta itself, or
they were as large as the descending aorta; they had pulsated violently, and
appeared like two long aneurisms. These symptoms had led to trying the
effects of arteriotomy in the temples, but with no relief. In the dead body I
found the heart and aorta so much gorged and distended with blood, that the
cavities of the ventricles equalled those of a bullock’s heart in size. Such is
the force of the blood pent up, and such are the effects of its impulse.
We may therefore conclude, that although there may be impulse without
any exit, as illustrated in the experiment lately spoken of, still that this
could not take place in the vessels of living creatures without most serious
dangers and impediments. From this, however, it is manifest that the blood
in its course does not everywhere pass with the same celerity, neither with
the same force in all places and at all times, but that it varies greatly
according to age, sex, temperament, habit of body, and other contingent
circumstances, external as well as internal, natural or non-natural. For it
does not course through intricate and obstructed passages with the same
readiness that it does through straight, unimpeded, and pervious channels.
Neither does it run through close, hard, and crowded parts, with the same
velocity as through spongy, soft, and permeable tissues. Neither does it flow
and penetrate with such swiftness when the impulse [of the heart] is slow
and weak, as when this is forcible and frequent, in which case the blood is
driven onwards with vigour and in large quantity. Nor is the same blood,
when it has become more consistent or earthy, so penetrative as when it is
more serous and attenuated or liquid. And then it seems only reasonable to
think that the blood in its circuit passes more slowly through the kidneys
than through the substance of the heart; more swiftly through the liver than
through the kidneys; through the spleen more quickly than through the
lungs, and through the lungs more speedily than through any of the other
viscera or the muscles, in proportion always to the denseness or sponginess
of the tissue of each.
We may be permitted to take the same view of the influence of age, sex,
temperament, and habit of body, whether this be hard or soft; of that of the
ambient cold which condenses bodies, and makes the veins in the
extremities to shrink and almost to disappear, and deprives the surface both
of colour and heat; and also of that of meat and drink which render the
blood more watery, by supplying fresh nutritive matter. From the veins,
therefore, the blood flows more freely in phlebotomy when the body is
warm than when it is cold. We also observe the signal influence of the
affections of the mind when a timid person is bled and happens to faint:
immediately the flow of blood is arrested, a deadly pallor overspreads the
surface, the limbs stiffen, the ears sing, the eyes are dazzled or blinded, and,
as it were, convulsed. But here I come upon a field where I might roam
freely and give myself up to speculation. And, indeed, such a flood of light
and truth breaks in upon me here; occasion offers of explaining so many
problems, of resolving so many doubts, of discovering the causes of so
many slighter and more serious diseases, and of suggesting remedies for
their cure, that the subject seems almost to demand a separate treatise. And
it will be my business in my ‘Medical Observations,’ to lay before my
reader matter upon all these topics which shall be worthy of the gravest
consideration.
And what indeed is more deserving of attention than the fact that in
almost every affection, appetite, hope, or fear, our body suffers, the
countenance changes, and the blood appears to course hither and thither. In
anger the eyes are fiery and the pupils contracted; in modesty the cheeks are
suffused with blushes; in fear, and under a sense of infamy and of shame,
the face is pale, but the ears burn as if for the evil they heard or were to
hear; in lust how quickly is the member distended with blood and erected!
But, above all, and this is of the highest interest to the medical practitioner,
—how speedily is pain relieved or removed by the detraction of blood, the
application of cupping-glasses, or the compression of the artery which leads
to a part? It sometimes vanishes as if by magic. But these are topics that I
must refer to my ‘Medical Observations,’ where they will be found exposed
at length and explained.
Some weak and inexperienced persons vainly seek by dialectics and far-
fetched arguments, either to upset or establish things that are only to be
founded on anatomical demonstration, and believed on the evidence of the
senses. He who truly desires to be informed of the question in hand, and
whether the facts alleged be sensible, visible, or not, must be held bound
either to look for himself, or to take on trust the conclusions to which they
have come who have looked; and indeed there is no higher method of
attaining to assurance and certainty. Who would pretend to persuade those
who had never tasted wine that it was a drink much pleasanter to the palate
than water? By what reasoning should we give the blind from birth to know
that the sun was luminous, and far surpassed the stars in brightness? And so
it is with the circulation of the blood, which the world has now had before it
for so many years, illustrated by proofs cognizable by the senses, and
confirmed by various experiments. No one has yet been found to dispute the
sensible facts, the motion, efflux and afflux of the blood, by like
observations based on the evidence of sense, or to oppose the experiments
adduced, by other experiments of the same character; nay, no one has yet
attempted an opposition on the ground of ocular testimony.
There have not been wanting many who, inexperienced and ignorant of
anatomy, and making no appeal to the senses in their opposition, have, on
the contrary, met it with empty assertions, and mere suppositions, with
assertions derived from the lessons of teachers and captious cavillings;
many, too, have vainly sought refuge in words, and these not always very
nicely chosen, but reproachful and contumelious; which, however, have no
farther effect than to expose their utterer’s vanity and weakness, and ill
breeding and lack of the arguments that are to be sought in the conclusions
of the senses, and false sophistical reasonings that seem utterly opposed to
sense. Even as the waves of the Sicilian sea, excited by the blast, dash
against the rocks around Charybdis, and then hiss and foam, and are tossed
hither and thither; so do they who reason against the evidence of their
senses.
Were nothing to be acknowledged by the senses without evidence
derived from reason, or occasionally even contrary to the previously
received conclusions of reason, there would now be no problem left for
discussion. Had we not our most perfect assurances by the senses, and were
not their perceptions confirmed by reasoning, in the same way as
geometricians proceed with their figures, we should admit no science of any
kind; for it is the business of geometry, from things sensible, to make
rational demonstration of things that are not sensible; to render credible or
certain things abstruse and beyond sense from things more manifest and
better known. Aristotle counsels us better when, in treating of the
generation of bees, he says:[115] “Faith is to be given to reason, if the
matters demonstrated agree with those that are perceived by the senses;
when the things have been thoroughly scrutinized, then are the senses to be
trusted rather than the reason.” Whence it is our duty to approve or
disapprove, to receive or reject everything only after the most careful
examination; but to examine, to test whether anything have been well or ill
advanced, to ascertain whether some falsehood does not lurk under a
proposition, it is imperative on us to bring it to the proof of sense, and to
admit or reject it on the decision of sense. Whence Plato in his Critias, says,
that the explanation of those things is not difficult of which we can have
experience; whilst they are not of apt scientific apprehension who have no
experience.
How difficult is it to teach those who have no experience, the things of
which they have not any knowledge by their senses! And how useless and
intractable, and unimpregnable to true science are such auditors! They show
the judgment of the blind in regard to colours, of the deaf in reference to
concords. Who ever pretended to teach the ebb and flow of the tide, or from
a diagram to demonstrate the measurements of the angles and the
proportions of the sides of a triangle to a blind man, or to one who had
never seen the sea nor a diagram? He who is not conversant with anatomy,
inasmuch as he forms no conception of the subject from the evidence of his
own eyes, is virtually blind to all that concerns anatomy, and unfit to
appreciate what is founded thereon; he knows nothing of that which
occupies the attention of the anatomist, nor of the principles inherent in the
nature of the things which guide him in his reasonings; facts and inferences
as well as their sources are alike unknown to such a one. But no kind of
science can possibly flow, save from some pre-existing knowledge of more
obvious things; and this is one main reason why our science in regard to the
nature of celestial bodies, is so uncertain and conjectural. I would ask of
those who profess a knowledge of the causes of all things, why the two eyes
keep constantly moving together, up or down, to this side or to that, and not
independently, one looking this way another that; why the two auricles of
the heart contract simultaneously, and the like? Are fevers, pestilence, and
the wonderful properties of various medicines to be denied because their
causes are unknown? Who can tell us why the fœtus in utero, breathing no
air up to the tenth month of its existence, is yet not suffocated? born in the
course of the seventh or eighth month, and having once breathed, it is
nevertheless speedily suffocated if its respiration be interrupted. Why can
the fœtus still contained within the uterus, or enveloped in the membranes,
live without respiration; whilst once exposed to the air, unless it breathes it
inevitably dies?[116]
Observing that many hesitate to acknowledge the circulation, and others
oppose it, because, as I conceive, they have not rightly understood me, I
shall here recapitulate briefly what I have said in my work on the Motion of
the Heart and Blood. The blood contained in the veins, in its magazine, and
where it is collected in largest quantity, viz., in the vena cava, close to the
base of the heart and right auricle, gradually increasing in temperature by its
internal heat, and becoming attenuated, swells and rises like bodies in a
state of fermentation, whereby the auricle being dilated, and then
contracting, in virtue of its pulsative power, forthwith delivers its charge
into the right ventricle; which being filled, and the systole ensuing, the
charge, hindered from returning into the auricle by the tricuspid valves, is
forced into the pulmonary artery, which stands open to receive it, and is
immediately distended with it. Once in the pulmonary artery, the blood
cannot return, by reason of the sigmoid valves; and then the lungs,
alternately expanded and contracted during inspiration and expiration,
afford it passage by the proper vessels into the pulmonary veins; from the
pulmonary veins, the left auricle, acting equally and synchronously with the
right auricle, delivers the blood into the left ventricle; which acting
harmoniously with the right ventricle, and all regress being prevented by
the mitral valves, the blood is projected into the aorta, and consequently
impelled into all the arteries of the body. The arteries, filled by this sudden
push, as they cannot discharge themselves so speedily, are distended; they
receive a shock, or undergo their diastole. But as this process goes on
incessantly, I infer that the arteries both of the lungs and of the body at
large, under the influence of such a multitude of strokes of the heart and
injections of blood, would finally become so over-gorged and distended,
that either any further injection must cease, or the vessels would burst, or
the whole blood in the body would accumulate within them, were there not
an exit provided for it.
The same reasoning is applicable to the ventricles of the heart: distended
by the ceaseless action of the auricles, did they not disburthen themselves
by the channels of the arteries, they would by and by become over-gorged,
and be fixed and made incapable of all motion. Now this, my conclusion, is
true and necessary, if my premises be true; but that these are either true or
false, our senses must inform us, not our reason—ocular inspection, not any
process of the mind.
I maintain further, that the blood in the veins always and everywhere
flows from less to greater branches, and from every part towards the heart;
whence I gather that the whole charge which the arteries receive, and which
is incessantly thrown into them, is delivered to the veins, and flows back by
them to the source whence it came. In this way, indeed, is the circulation of
the blood established: by an efflux and reflux from and to the heart; the
fluid being forcibly projected into the arterial system, and then absorbed
and imbibed from every part by the veins, it returns through these in a
continuous stream. That all this is so, sense assures us; and necessary
inference from the perceptions of sense takes away all occasion for doubt.
Lastly, this is what I have striven, by my observations and experiments, to
illustrate and make known; I have not endeavoured from causes and
probable principles to demonstrate my propositions, but, as of higher
authority, to establish them by appeals to sense and experiment, after the
manner of anatomists.
And here I would refer to the amount of force, even of violence, which
sight and touch make us aware of in the heart and greater arteries; and to the
systole and diastole constituting the pulse in the large warm-blooded
animals, which I do not say is equal in all the vessels containing blood, nor
in all animals that have blood; but which is of such a nature and amount in
all, that a flow and rapid passage of the blood through the smaller arteries,
the interstices of the tissues, and the branches of the veins, must of
necessity take place; and therefore there is a circulation.
For neither do the most minute arteries, nor the veins, pulsate; but the
larger arteries and those near the heart pulsate, because they do not transmit
the blood so quickly as they receive it.[117] Having exposed an artery, and
divided it so that the blood shall flow out as fast and freely as it is received,
you will scarcely perceive any pulse in that vessel; and for the simple
reason, that an open passage being afforded, the blood escapes, merely
passing through the vessel, not distending it. In fishes, serpents, and the
colder animals, the heart beats so slowly and feebly, that a pulse can
scarcely be perceived in the arteries; the blood in them is transmitted
gradually. Whence in them, as also in the smaller branches of the arteries in
man, there is no distinction between the coats of the arteries and veins,
because the arteries have to sustain no shock from the impulse of the blood.
An artery denuded and divided in the way I have indicated, sustains no
shock, and therefore does not pulsate; whence it clearly appears that the
arteries have no inherent pulsative power, and that neither do they derive
any from the heart; but that they undergo their diastole solely from the
impulse of the blood; for in the full stream, flowing to a distance, you may
see the systole and diastole, all the motions of the heart—their order, force,
rhythm, &c.,[118] as it were in a mirror, and even perceive them by the
touch. Precisely as in the water that is forced aloft, through a leaden pipe,
by working the piston of a forcing-pump, each stroke of which, though the
jet be many feet distant, is nevertheless distinctly perceptible,—the
beginning, increasing strength, and end of the impulse, as well as its
amount, and the regularity or irregularity with which it is given, being
indicated, the same precisely is the case from the orifice of a divided artery;
whence, as in the instance of the forcing engine quoted, you will perceive
that the efflux is uninterrupted, although the jet is alternately greater and
less. In the arteries, therefore, besides the concussion or impulse of the
blood, the pulse or beat of the artery, which is not equally exhibited in all,
there is a perpetual flow and motion of the blood, which returns in an
unbroken stream to the point from whence it commenced—the right auricle
of the heart.
All these points you may satisfy yourself upon, by exposing one of the
longer arteries, and having taken it between your finger and thumb, dividing
it on the side remote from the heart. By the greater or less pressure of your
fingers, you can have the vessel pulsating less or more, or losing the pulse
entirely, and recovering it at will. And as these things proceed thus when the
chest is uninjured, so also do they go on for a short time when the thorax is
laid open, and the lungs having collapsed, all the respiratory motions have
ceased; here, nevertheless, for a little while you may perceive the left
auricle contracting and emptying itself, and becoming whiter; but by and by
growing weaker and weaker, it begins to intermit, as does the left ventricle
also, and then it ceases to beat altogether, and becomes quiescent. Along
with this, and in the same measure, does the stream of blood from the
divided artery grow less and less, the pulse of the vessel weaker and
weaker, until at last, the supply of blood and the impulse of the left ventricle
failing, nothing escapes from it. You may perform the same experiment,
tying the pulmonary veins, and so taking away the pulse of the left auricle,
or relaxing the ligature, and restoring it at pleasure. In this experiment, too,
you will observe what happens in moribund animals, viz., that the left
ventricle first ceases from pulsation and motion, then the left auricle, next
the right ventricle, finally the right auricle; so that where the vital force and
pulse first begin, there do they also last fail.
All of these particulars having been recognized by the senses, it is
manifest that the blood passes through the lungs, not through the septum [in
its course from the right to the left side of the heart], and only through them
when they are moved in the act of respiration, not when they are collapsed
and quiescent; whence we see the probable reason wherefore nature has
instituted the foramen ovale in the fœtus, instead of sending the blood by
the way of the pulmonary artery into the left auricle and ventricle, which
foramen she closes when the new-born creature begins to breathe freely. We
can also now understand why, when the vessels of the lungs become
congested and oppressed, and in those who are affected with serious
diseases, it should be so dangerous and fatal a symptom when the
respiratory organs become implicated.
We perceive further, why the blood is so florid in the lungs, which is,
because it is thinner, as having there to undergo filtration.
Still further; from the summary which precedes, and by way of
satisfying those who are importunate in regard to the causes of the
circulation, and incline to regard the power of the heart as competent to
everything—as that it is not only the seat and source of the pulse which
propels the blood, but also, as Aristotle thinks, of the power which attracts
and produces it; moreover, that the spirits are engendered by the heart, and
the influxive vital heat, in virtue of the innate heat of the heart, as the
immediate instrument of the soul, or common bond and prime organ in the
performance of every act of vitality; in a word, that the motion, perfection,
heat, and every property besides of the blood and spirits are derived from
the heart, as their fountain or original, (a doctrine as old as Aristotle, who
maintained all these qualities to inhere in the blood, as heat inheres in
boiling water or pottage,) and that the heart is the primary cause of
pulsation and life; to those persons, did I speak openly, I should say that I
do not agree with the common opinion; there are numerous particulars to be
noted in the production of the parts of the body which incline me this way,
but which it does not seem expedient to enter upon here. Before long,
perhaps, I shall have occasion to lay before the world things that are more
wonderful than these, and that are calculated to throw still greater light
upon natural philosophy.
Meantime I shall only say, and, without pretending to demonstrate it,
propound—with the good leave of our learned men, and with all respect for
antiquity—that the heart, with the veins and arteries and the blood they
contain, is to be regarded as the beginning and author, the fountain and
original of all things in the body, the primary cause of life; and this in the
same acceptation as the brain with its nerves, organs of sense and spinal
marrow inclusive, is spoken of as the one and general organ of sensation.
But if by the word heart the mere body of the heart, made up of its auricles
and ventricles, be understood, then I do not believe that the heart is the
fashioner of the blood; neither do I imagine that the blood has powers,
properties, motion, or heat, as the gift of the heart; lastly, neither do I admit
that the cause of the systole and contraction is the same as that of the
diastole or dilatation, whether in the arteries, auricles, or ventricles; for I
hold that that part of the pulse which is designated the diastole depends on
another cause different from the systole, and that it must always and
everywhere precede any systole; I hold that the innate heat is the first cause
of dilatation, and that the primary dilatation is in the blood itself, after the
manner of bodies in a state of fermentation, gradually attenuated and
swelling, and that in the blood is this finally extinguished; I assent to
Aristotle’s example of gruel or milk upon the fire, to this extent, that the
rising and falling of the blood does not depend upon vapours or exhalations,
or spirits, or anything rising in a vaporous or aëreal shape, nor upon any
external agency, but upon an internal principle under the control of nature.
Nor is the heart, as some imagine, anything like a chauffer or fire, or
heated kettle, and so the source of the heat of the blood; the blood, instead
of receiving, rather gives heat to the heart, as it does to all the other parts of
the body; for the blood is the hottest element in the body; and it is on this
account that the heart is furnished with coronary arteries and veins; it is for
the same reason that other parts have vessels, viz., to secure the access of
warmth for their due conservation and stimulation; so that the warmer any
part is, the greater is its supply of blood, or otherwise; where the blood is in
largest quantity, there also is the heat highest. For this reason is the heart,
remarkable through its cavities, to be viewed as the elaboratory, fountain,
and perennial focus of heat, and as comparable to a hot kettle, not because
of its proper substance, but because of its contained blood; for the same
reason, because they have numerous veins or vessels containing blood, are
the liver, spleen, lungs, &c., reputed hot parts. And in this way do I view the
native or innate heat as the common instrument of every function, the prime
cause of the pulse among the rest. This, however, I do not mean to state
absolutely, but only propose it by way of thesis. Whatever may be objected
to it by good and learned men, without abusive or contemptuous language, I
shall be ready to listen to—I shall even be most grateful to any one who
will take up and discuss the subject.
These then, are, as it were, the very elements and indications of the
passage and circulation of the blood, viz., from the right auricle into the
right ventricle; from the right ventricle by the way of the lungs into the left
auricle; thence into the left ventricle and aorta; whence by the arteries at
large through the pores or interstices of the tissues into the veins, and by the
veins back again with great rapidity to the base of the heart.
There is an experiment on the veins by which any one that chooses may
convince himself of this truth: Let the arm be bound with a moderately tight
bandage, and then, by opening and shutting the hand, make all the veins to
swell as much as possible, and the integuments below the fillet to become
red; and now let the arm and hand be plunged into very cold water, or snow,
until the blood pent up in the veins shall have become cooled down; then let
the fillet be undone suddenly, and you will perceive, by the cold blood
returning to the heart, with what celerity the current flows, and what an
effect it produces when it has reached the heart; so that you will no longer
be surprised that some should faint when the fillet is undone after
venesection.[119] This experiment shows that the veins swell below the
ligature not with attenuated blood, or with blood raised by spirits or
vapours, for the immersion in the cold water would repress their ebullition,
but with blood only, and such as could never make its way back into the
arteries, either by open-mouthed communications or by devious passages; it
shows, moreover, how and in what way those who are travelling over
snowy mountains are sometimes stricken suddenly with death, and other
things of the same kind.
Lest it should seem difficult for the blood to make its way through the
pores of the various structures of the body, I shall add one illustration: The
same thing happens in the bodies of those that are hanged or strangled, as in
the arm that is bound with a fillet: all the parts beyond the noose,—the face,
lips, tongue, eyes, and every part of the head appear gorged with blood,
swollen and of a deep red or livid colour; but if the noose be relaxed, in
whatever position you have the body, before many hours have passed you
will perceive the whole of the blood to have quitted the head and face, and
gravitated through the pores of the skin, flesh, and other structures, from the
superior parts towards those that are inferior and dependent, until they
become tumid and of a dark colour. But if this happens in the dead body,
with the blood dead and coagulated, the frame stiffened with the chill of
death, the passages all compressed or blocked up, it is easy to perceive how
much more apt it will be to occur in the living subject, when the blood is
alive and replete with spirits, when the pores are all open, the fluid ready to
penetrate, and the passage in every way made easy.
When the ingenious and acute Descartes, (whose honourable mention of
my name demands my acknowledgments,) and others, having taken out the
heart of a fish, and put it on a plate before them, see it continuing to pulsate
(in contracting), and when it raises or erects itself and becomes firm to the
touch, they think it enlarges, expands, and that its ventricles thence become
more capacious. But, in my opinion, they do not observe correctly; for, at
the time the heart gathers itself up, and becomes erect, it is certain that it is
rather lessened in every one of its dimensions; that it is in its systole, in
short, not in its diastole. Neither, on the contrary, when it collapses and
sinks down, is it then properly in its state of diastole and distension, by
which the ventricles become more capacious. But as we do not say that the
heart is in the state of diastole in the dead body, as having sunk relaxed after
the systole, but is then collapsed, and without all motion—in short is in a
state of rest, and not distended. It is only truly distended, and in the proper
state of diastole, when it is filled by the charge of blood projected into it by
the contraction of the auricles; a fact which sufficiently appears in the
course of vivisections. Descartes therefore does not perceive how much the
relaxation and subsidence of the heart and arteries differ from their
distension or diastole; and that the cause of the distension, relaxation, and
constriction, is not one and the same; as contrary effects so must they rather
acknowledge contrary causes; as different movements they must have
different motors; just as all anatomists know that the flexion and extension
of an extremity are accomplished by opposite antagonist muscles, and
contrary or diverse motions are necessarily performed by contrary and
diverse organs instituted by nature for the purpose. Neither do I find the
efficient cause of the pulse aptly explained by this philosopher, when with
Aristotle he assumes the cause of the systole to be the same as that of the
diastole, viz., an effervescence of the blood due to a kind of ebullition. For
the pulse is a succession of sudden strokes and quick percussions; but we
know of no kind of fermentation or ebullition in which the matter rises and
falls in the twinkling of an eye; the heaving is always gradual where the
subsidence is notable. Besides, in the body of a living animal laid open, we
can with our eyes perceive the ventricles of the heart both charged and
distended by the contraction of the auricles, and more or less increased in
size according to the charge; and farther, we can see that the distension of
the heart is rather a violent motion, the effect of an impulsion, and not
performed by any kind of attraction.
Some are of opinion that, as no kind of impulse of the nutritive juices is
required in vegetables, but that these are attracted by the parts which require
them, and flow in to take the place of what has been lost; so neither is there
any necessity for an impulse in animals, the vegetative faculty in both
working alike. But there is a difference between plants and animals. In
animals, a constant supply of warmth is required to cherish the members, to
maintain them in life by the vivifying heat, and to restore parts injured from
without. It is not merely nutrition that has to be provided for.
So much for the circulation; any impediment, or perversion, or excessive
excitement of which, is followed by a host of dangerous diseases and
remarkable symptoms: in connexion with the veins—varices, abscesses,
pains, hemorrhoids, hemorrhages; in connexion with the arteries—
enlargements, phlegmons, severe and lancinating pains, aneurisms,
sarcoses, fluxions, sudden attacks of suffocation, asthmas, stupors,
apoplexies, and innumerable other affections. But this is not the place to
enter on the consideration of these; neither may I say under what
circumstances and how speedily some of these diseases, that are even
reputed incurable, are remedied and dispelled, as if by enchantment. I shall
have much to put forth in my Medical Observations and Pathology, which,
so far as I know, has as yet been observed by no one.
That I may afford you still more ample satisfaction, most learned
Riolanus, as you do not think there is a circulation in the vessels of the
mesentery, I shall conclude by proposing the following experiment: throw a
ligature around the porta close to the liver, in a living animal, which is
easily done. You will forthwith perceive the veins below the ligature
swelling in the same way as those of the arm when the bleeding fillet is
bound above the elbow; a circumstance which will proclaim the course of
the blood there. And as you still seem to think that the blood can regurgitate
from the veins into the arteries by open anastomoses, let the vena cava be
tied in a living animal near the divarication of the crural veins, and
immediately afterwards let an artery be opened to give issue to the blood:
you will soon observe the whole of the blood discharged from all the veins,
that of the ascending cava among the number, with the single exception of
the crural veins, which will continue full; and this certainly could not
happen were there any retrograde passage for the blood from the veins to
the arteries by open anastomoses.
ANATOMICAL EXERCISES

ON

THE GENERATION OF ANIMALS;


TO WHICH ARE ADDED

ESSAYS ON PARTURITION; ON THE MEMBRANES, AND FLUIDS


OF
THE UTERUS; AND ON CONCEPTION.

BY WILLIAM HARVEY,

DOCTOR OF PHYSIC, AND PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY AND SURGERY


IN THE COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS OF LONDON.

London, 1651.

To the learned and illustrious the President and Fellows of the College of
Physicians of London.
Harassed with anxious, and in the end not much availing cares, about
Christmas last,[120] I sought to rid my spirit of the cloud that oppressed it,
by a visit to that great man, the chief honour and ornament of our College,
Dr. William Harvey, then dwelling not far from the city. I found him,
Democritus like, busy with the study of natural things, his countenance
cheerful, his mind serene, embracing all within its sphere. I forthwith
saluted him, and asked if all were well with him? “How can it,” said he,
“whilst the Commonwealth is full of distractions, and I myself am still in
the open sea? And truly,” he continued, “did I not find solace in my studies,
and a balm for my spirit in the memory of my observations of former years,
I should feel little desire for longer life. But so it has been, that this life of
obscurity, this vacation from public business, which causes tedium and
disgust to so many, has proved a sovereign remedy to me.”
I answering said, “I can readily account for this: whilst most men are
learned through others’ wits, and under cover of a different diction and a
new arrangement, vaunt themselves on things that belong to the ancients,
thou ever interrogatest Nature herself concerning her mysteries. And this
line of study as it is less likely to lead into error, so is it also more fertile in
enjoyment, inasmuch as each particular point examined often leads to
others which had not before been surmised. You yourself, I well remember,
informed me once that you had never dissected any animal—and many and
many a one have you examined,—but that you discovered something
unexpected, something of which you were formerly uninformed.”
“It is true,” said he: “the examination of the bodies of animals has
always been my delight; and I have thought that we might thence not only
obtain an insight into the lighter mysteries of nature, but there perceive a
kind of image or reflex of the omnipotent Creator himself. And though
much has already been made out by the learned men of former times, I have
still thought that much more remained behind, hidden by the dusky night of
nature, uninterrogated; so that I have oftentimes wondered and even
laughed at those who have fancied that everything had been so
consummately and absolutely investigated by an Aristotle or a Galen, or
some other mighty name, that nothing could by possibility be added to their
knowledge. Nature, however, is the best and most faithful interpreter of her
own secrets; and what she presents either more briefly or obscurely in one
department, that she explains more fully and clearly in another. No one
indeed has ever rightly ascertained the use or function of a part who has not
examined its structure, situation, connexions by means of vessels, and other
accidents, in various animals, and carefully weighed and considered all he
has seen. The ancients, our authorities in science, even as their knowledge
of geography was limited by the boundaries of Greece, so neither did their
knowledge of animals, vegetables, and other natural objects extend beyond
the confines of their country. But to us the whole earth lies open, and the
zeal of our travellers has made us familiar not only with other countries and
the manners and customs of their inhabitants, but also with the animals,
vegetables, and minerals that are met with in each. And truly there is no
nation so barbarous which has not discovered something for the general
good, whether led to it by accident or compelled by necessity, which had
been overlooked by more civilized communities. But shall we imagine that
nothing can accrue to the wide domains of science from such advantages, or
that all knowledge was exhausted by the first ages of the world? If we do,
the blame very certainly attaches to our indolence, nowise to nature.
“To this there is another evil added: many persons, wholly without
experience, from the presumed verisimilitude of a previous opinion, are
often led by and by to speak of it boldly, as a matter that is certainly known;
whence it comes, that not only are they themselves deceived, but that they
likewise lead other incautious persons into error.”
Discoursing in this manner, and touching upon many topics besides with
wonderful fluency and facility, as is his custom, I interposed by observing,
“How free you yourself are from the fault you indicate all know who are
acquainted with you; and this is the reason wherefore the learned world,
who are aware of your unwearied industry in the study of philosophy, are
eagerly looking for your farther experiments.”
“And would you be the man,” said Harvey, smiling, “who should
recommend me to quit the peaceful haven, where I now pass my life, and
launch again upon the faithless sea? You know full well what a storm my
former lucubrations raised. Much better is it oftentimes to grow wise at
home and in private, than by publishing what you have amassed with
infinite labour, to stir up tempests that may rob you of peace and quiet for
the rest of your days.”
“True,” said I; “it is the usual reward of virtue to have received ill for
having merited well. But the winds which raised those storms, like the
north-western blast, which drowns itself in its own rain, have only drawn
mischief on themselves.”
Upon this he showed me his ‘Exercises on the Generation of Animals,’ a
work composed with vast labour and singular care; and having it in my
hands, I exclaimed, “Now have I what I so much desired! and unless you
consent to make this work public, I must say that you will be wanting both
to your own fame and to the public usefulness. Nor let any fear of farther
trouble in the matter induce you to withhold it longer: I gladly charge
myself with the whole business of correcting the press.”
Making many difficulties at first, urging, among other things, that his
work must be held imperfect, as not containing his investigations on the
generation of insects, I nevertheless prevailed at length, and he said to me,
“I intrust these papers to your care with full authority either speedily to
commit them to the press, or to suppress them till some future time.”
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