knew how to do it, they would confound the sentimental objections of the anti-vivisectionists, and would declare that their own sufferings deserve a higher consideration than the sufferings of a few animals.
The physiologist in his experiments is inspired by a humane sentiment—by love, not only for the present, but for future generations as well, of mankind, for his purpose is to discover some of the truths that may contribute to the relief of man. The immediate consequence, the practical end, may often escape him, but he is not concerned with them; for he long ago in his own mind identified science with the love of man. He has acquired a conviction that science and the love of his fellows are the same thing, and that every scientific conquest is a step in the way of social progress. I do not believe that any experimenter would say, on giving curare to a rabbit, or in cutting the marrow of a dog, or in poisoning a frog, "This experiment is destined to help cure or relieve some man's disease." He would not think of that, but would say, "I am going to dissipate an obscurity, to seek out a new fact"; and this scientific curiosity, the only thought that animates him, can be explained in no other way than as a consequence of the exalted ideal he has conceived of science.
This is why we pass our days in nauseous dissecting-rooms, surrounded by groaning beings, in the midst of blood and suffering, bent over palpitating viscera. We love science for itself, for the grand results it is destined to give, and we surrender ourselves with passion to the disinterested investigation of the truth that is hidden in things, convinced that this truth will in time become the salvation and hope of our brethren.
No parity can be established between the results obtained and the price they cost. A few sufferings of animals while so many other animals are suffering are as nothing in comparison with the results of a scientific discovery. Must we, when a great result is to be secured, charge up an account of the suffering or the death of a small number of individuals? We may suppose, for instance, that the magnificent work of constructing the canal across the Isthmus of Panama will cost, in consequence of the necessity of extensive labors in an unhealthy country, the lives of several hundred or even of a few thousand coolies. Must we, then, give up making the canal? By it we would shorten the route of many thousand ships. Most certainly the facility given to commerce, the greater wealth and prosperity that will be conferred on all mankind, will compensate for the death and sickness of these poor, obscure laborers. It is the same in war. If a general in the course of a battle believes it necessary to carry a redoubt, he will not hesitate to give the signal for the assault, even if he knows that the struggle will cost the lives of a thousand men. He will sacrifice a few squads, for the safety of the whole army, without any hesitation. By the same rule, a people has a right to make war in defense of its independence, although every war is accompanied by thousands of deaths
