Cambridge Sketches

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The report of this committee is a valuable document,--a study for young
lawyers in the sifting of evidence,--and of itself a severe criticism on
the judgment of the French Academy, which it considered at too great a
distance to judge fairly of the circumstances attending the advent of
painless surgery. The committee decided unanimously that Doctor Wells did
not carry his experiments far enough to reach a decided result; that
Doctor Jackson's testimony was contradictory and not much to be depended
on; and that the credit of discovering painless surgery properly
appertained to Dr. W. T. G. Morton. They recommended an appropriation of
a hundred thousand dollars to be given to Doctor Morton in return for the
free use of etherization by the surgeons of the army and navy.

A hundred thousand dollars was little enough. The British Government paid
thirty thousand pounds as a gratuity for the discovery of vaccination;
and more recently a poor German student made a much larger sum by the
invention of a drug which has since fallen into disuse. Half a million
would not have been more than Morton deserved, and a hundred thousand
might have been bestowed on Wells.

Doctor Morton must have thought now that the clouds were lifting for him
at last; but they soon settled down darker than ever. The committee's
report was only printed towards the close of the session, and Congress,
gone rabid over the Presidential election, neglected to consider it.
Neither did it take further action the following winter. A year later a
bill was introduced in the Senate for Doctor Morton's relief, and was
ably supported by Douglas, of Illinois, and Hale, of New Hampshire. It
passed the Senate by a small majority, but was defeated by the "mud-gods"
of the House--defeated by men who were pilfering the national treasury in
sinecures for their relatives and supporters. In the history of our
government I know of nothing more disgraceful than this,--except the
exculpation of Brooks for his assault on Sumner.

Doctor Morton was a ruined man. His slender means had long since been
exhausted, and he had been running in debt for the past two or three
years, as Hawthorne did at the old manse. Even his house at Wellesley was
mortgaged. His business was gone, and his health was shattered. He felt
as a man does in an earthquake. The government could not have treated him
more cruelly unless it had put him to death.

It was now, as a final resort, that he went to see President Pierce,
always a kindly man, except where Kansas affairs were concerned; and
Pierce advised him to bring a suit for infringement of his rights against
a surgeon in the navy. Doctor Morton found a lawyer who was willing to
take the risk for a large share of the profits, and gained his case. His
house was saved, but he returned to Wellesley poorer than when he came to
Boston to seek his fortune, a youth of eighteen.

There was great indignation at the Massachusetts Hospital when the result
of Doctor Morton's case before Congress was known there, and soon after
his return an effort was made to raise a substantial testimonial for him.
That noble-hearted physician, Dr. Henry I. Bowditch, interested himself
so conspicuously in this that Doctor Morton named his youngest son for
him.

A similar effort was made by the medical profession in New York city, and
a sufficient sum obtained to render Doctor Morton moderately comfortable
during the remainder of his earthly existence, and to educate his eldest
son.

Doctor Morton's health was too much shattered for professional work now,
and he resigned himself to his fate. He raised cattle at Wellesley, and
imported fine cattle as a healthful out-of-door occupation. In the autumn
of 1862 he joined the Army of the Potomac as a volunteer surgeon, and
applied ether to more than two thousand wounded soldiers during the
battles of Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and the Wilderness. At the
same time Senator Wil- [*printer's error--double line and missing text]
revive the gratuity for Morton in Congress, but the decision of the French
Academy was in men's minds, and a vicious precedent proved stronger than
reason.

I saw Doctor Morton for the last time about nine months before his death;
and the impression his appearance made on me was indelible. He was
walking in the path before his house with his eldest daughter, and he
seemed like the victim of an old Greek tragedy--a noble Oedipus who had
solved the Sphynx's riddle, attended by his faithful Antigone.

In July, 1868, a torrid wave swept over the Northern States which carried
off many frail and delicate persons in the large cities, and Doctor
Morton was one of those who suffered from it. He happened to be in New
York City at the time, and went to Central Park to escape the feeling of
suffocation which oppressed him, but never returned alive. He now lies in
Mount Auburn Cemetery, with a modest monument over his grave erected by
his Boston friends, with this epitaph composed by Dr. Jacob Bigelow:

WILLIAM T. G. MORTON

INVENTOR AND REVEALER OF ANAESTHETIC INHALATION BY WHOM, PAIN IN SURGERY
WAS ARRESTED AND ANNULLED BEFORE WHOM, IN ALL TIME, SURGERY WAS AGONY
SINCE WHOM, SCIENCE HAS CONTROL OF PAIN

Doctor Morton was a self-made man, but not a rough diamond,--rather one
of Nature's gentlemen. The pleasant urbanity of his manner was so
conspicuous that no person of sensibility could approach him without
being impressed by it. His was a character such as those who live by
academic rules would be more likely to misjudge than to comprehend.

The semi-centennial of painless surgery was celebrated, in 1896, in
Boston, New York, London, and other cities, and the credit of its
discovery was universally awarded to William T. G. Morton. About the same
time it happened that the Massachusetts State House was reconstructed,
and William Endicott, as Commissioner, and a near relative of Robert
Rantoul, had Morton's name emblazoned in the Hall of Fame with those of
Franklin, Morse, and Bell. This may be said to have decided the
controversy; but, like many another benefactor of mankind, Doctor
Morton's reward on earth was a crown of thorns.

LEAVES FROM A ROMAN DIARY

February, 1869

(Rewritten in 1897)

As I look out of P----'s windows on the Via Frattina every morning at
the plaster bust of Pius IX., I like his face more and more, and feel
that he is not an unworthy companion to George Washington and the young
Augustus. [Footnote: Three busts in a row.] I think there may be
something of the fox, or rather of the _crow_, in his composition,
but his face has the wholeness of expression which shows a sound and
healthy mind,--not a patchwork character. I was pleased to hear that he
was originally a liberal; and the first, after the long conservative
reaction of Metternich, to introduce reforms in the states of the Church.
The Revolution of 1848 followed too quickly, and the extravagant
proceedings of Mazzini and Garibaldi drove him into the ranks of the
conservatives, where he has remained ever since. Carlyle compared him to
a man who had an old tin-kettle which he thought he would mend, but as
soon as he began to tinker it the thing went to pieces in his hands. The
Revolution of 1848 proved an unpractical experiment, but it opened the
way for Victor Emanuel and a more sound liberalism in 1859.

We attended service at the Sistine Chapel yesterday in company with two
young ladies from Philadelphia, who wore long black veils so that Pius
IX. might not catch the least glimpse of their pretty faces. I was
disappointed in my hope of obtaining a view of the Pope's face. Cardinal
Bonaparte sat just in front of us, a man well worth observing. He looks
to be the ablest living member of that family, and bears a decided
resemblance to the old Napoleon. His features are strong, his eyes keen,
and he wears his red cap in a jaunty manner on the side of his head. When
the blessing was passed around the conclave of Cardinals, Bonaparte
transferred it to his next neighbor as if he meant to put it through him.
It is supposed that he will be the successor of Pius IX.; but, as Rev.
Samuel Longfellow says, that will depend very much upon whether Louis
Napoleon is alive at the time of the election.

The singing in the Sistine Chapel is not worth listening to, besides
having unpleasant associations; so during the service we had an excellent
opportunity to study Michael Angelo's Last Judgment--for there was
nothing else to be done.

Kugler considers the picture an inharmonious composition, and that
nothing could be more disagreeable than the stout figure of St.
Bartholomew holding a flaying knife in one hand and his own mortal hide
in the other. This is not a pleasant spectacle; but Michael Angelo did
not paint for other people's pleasure, but rather to satisfy his own
conscience. It was customary to introduce St. Bartholomew in this manner,
for there was no other way in which he could be identified. We found the
towering form of St. Christopher on the left side of the Saviour rather
more of an eyesore than St. Bartholomew, whose expression of awe
partially redeems his appearance.

The Saviour has a herculean frame, but his face and head are magnificent.
He has no beard, and his hair is arranged in festoons which gives the
impression of a wreath of grape leaves. The expression of his face is the
noblest I have seen in any work of art in Rome; the face that has risen
through suffering; calm, compassionate, immutable. The Madonna seems like
a girl beside this stalwart form, and she draws close to her son with
naive timidity at the vast concourse which crowds about them. Her face is
expressive of resignation and compassion rather than any joyful feeling.

The left side of this vast painting, in which the bodies of men and women
are rising from their graves, is less interesting than the right side,
where the saints and blessed are gathered together above and the sinners
are hurled down below. Michael Angelo's saints and apostles look like
vigorous men of affairs, and are all rather stout and muscular. The
attitudes of some of them are by no means conventional, but they are
natural and unconstrained. St. Peter, holding forth the keys, is a
magnificent figure. The group of the saved who are congregated above the
saints is the pleasantest portion of the picture. Here Damion and Pythias
embrace each other; a young husband springs to greet the wife whom he
lost too early; a poor unfortunate to whom life was a curse is timidly
raising his eyes, scarcely believing that he is in paradise; men with
fine philosophic heads converse together; and a number of honest serving-
women express their astonishment with such gestures as are customary
among that class of persons.

In the lunettes above, wingless angels are hovering with the cross, the
column, and other instruments of Christ's agony, which they clasp with a
loving devotion. In the lower right-hand corner, Charon appears (taken
from pagan mythology) with a boat-load of sinners, whom he smites with
his oar according to Dante's description. He is truly a terrible demon,
and his fiery eyes gleam across the length of the chapel. Minos, who
receives the boat-load in the likeness of Biagio da Cesena, the pope's
master of ceremonies, is another to match him. A modern fop with banged
hair is stepping from the boat to the shore of hell. This is said to be
the best painted portion of the picture,--most life-like and free from
mannerism. It is a mighty work, and too little appreciated, like many
other works of art, chiefly owing to the critics, who do not understand
it, and write a lingo of their own which is not easy to make out and does
not come to much after all. [Footnote: All this shows what a heart there
was in Michael Angelo, and dissipates the assertion of a recent English
biographer that Michael Angelo painted masks instead of faces, with
little or no expression.]

After the service we went into St. Peter's with the ladies, and walked
the whole circuit of the church. Our ladies talked meanwhile exactly as
they might at an American watering-place, without apparently observing
anything about them. When we came to the statue of St. Peter, P---- said,
pointing to the big toe: "You see there the mischief that can be done by
too much kissing." Nearly a third of the toe has been worn away by the
oscular applications of the faithful.

_Feb_. 4.--Dr. B. B. Appleton, an American resident of Florence, is
here on a flying visit. We have heard from many sources of the kindness
of this man to American travellers, especially to young students. In
fact, he took P---- into his house while at Florence, and entertained him
in the most generous manner. He has done the same for Mrs. Julia Ward
Howe and many others. He lives with an Italian family who were formerly
in the service of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and who were ruined by the
recent change of rulers. Dr. Appleton boards with them, and helps to
support them in other ways. In spite of his goodness he does not seem to
be happy.

One of his chief friends in Florence is Fraulein Assig, who was banished
from Prussia together with her publisher for editing Von Humboldt's
memoirs, which were perhaps too severely critical of the late king of
Prussia. The book, however, had an excellent sale, and she now lives
contentedly in Florence, where she is well acquainted both with prominent
liberals and leading members of the government. Dr. Appleton reports that
a cabinet officer lately said to her, "We may move to Rome at any time."

Louis Napoleon is the main-stay of the papacy, and the only one it has.
The retrocession of Venetia to Italy has separated Austria effectually
from the states of the Church, and the Spaniards are too much taken up
with their internal affairs to interfere at present in the pope's behalf.
Napoleon's health is known to be delicate, and prayers for his
preservation are offered up daily in Roman churches. If he should die
before his son comes of age great political changes may be looked for.

Meanwhile murmurs of discontent are heard on all sides. The city is
unclean and badly cared for. The civil offices are said to be filled
mainly with _nephews_ of cardinals and other prelates. Even Italians
of the lower classes know enough of political economy to foresee that if
Rome was the capital of Italy it would be more prosperous than it is at
present. The value of land would rise, and all the small trades would
flourish. This is what is really undermining the power of Pius IX. A most
curious sign of the times is the general belief among the Roman populace
that the Pope has an evil eye. How long since this originated I have not
been able to learn; but it is not uncommon for those who chance to see
the pope in his carriage, especially women, to go immediately into the
nearest church for purification. A few days since the train from Rome to
Florence ran into a buffalo, and the locomotive was thrown off the track.
Even this was attributed to the fact that the engineer had encountered
the pope near the Quirinal the previous Sunday.

Dr. Appleton told us a story at dinner about the youth of Louis Napoleon.
His Florentine housekeeper, Gori, remembers Hortense and her two sons
very distinctly; for Louis once met him in the Boboli Gardens and
insisted on his smoking a cigar, in order to laugh at him when it had
made him sick,--as it was Gori's first experience with tobacco. He also
says that on one occasion when the young princes had some sort of a feast
together, the others all gave the caterer from five to ten francs as a
_pour-boir_, but Louis Napoleon gave him a twenty-franc piece. When
his companions expressed their surprise at this Louis said: "It is only
right that I should do so, for some day I shall be Emperor."

As a rule few Italian men attend church. The women go; but the men, if
not heretical, are at least rather indifferent, on the subject of
religion. Macaulay refers to this fact in his essay on Macchiavelli, and
Dr. Appleton, who has lived among them, knows it to be true. To make
amends for it, English and American ladies are returning to the fold of
St. Peter in large numbers; and many of them bring their male relatives
eventually with them. I believe this to be largely a matter of fashion.
They have always accepted the Protestant creed as a matter of course, and
coming here, where they are separated from all previous associations,
they find themselves out of tune with their surroundings. They feel
lonely, as all travellers do at times, and being in need of sympathy are
easily impressed by those about them. Most of them have Catholic maids,
who often serve as stepping-stones to the acquaintance of the priest.
Conversion gives them a kind of importance, which Catholic ladies of rank
know how to make the most of. The external grandeur of Catholicism as we
see it here has also its due influence.

_Feb. 9._--I was greatly disgusted last evening while calling on two
New England ladies, who were formerly my schoolmates, to have a pompous
priest walk in and take possession of the parlor, spoiling my pleasant
_tete-a-tete_. He sat in the middle of the room like a pail of
water, and stared about in the most ill-mannered way. My friends remarked
that he was the _abbate_ of the Pantheon, and he inquired if I had
been to see it; to which I replied that I had, and that I considered it
the noblest building in Rome. This seemed to be a new idea to him, and
one which he did not altogether like. Not long since I came upon a priest
drinking wine with some young artists, and laughing at jokes for which a
stage-driver might be ashamed. There are fine exceptions among them, but
as a class they appear to me coarse and even vicious,--by no means
spiritually attractive. Monks are not attractive either, but in their way
they are much more interesting. Religion seems to be meat and drink to
them.

P---- and I were invited to dine by an American Catholic lady who was
formerly a friend of Margaret Fuller, and who having been incautiously
left in Rome by her husband, embraced Catholicism before he was fairly
across the Atlantic,--to his lasting sorrow and vexation. Being in an
influential position she has made many converts, and it is said that she
has come to Rome on the present occasion to be sainted by the pope. She
has already loaned P---- a biography of Father Lacordaire, which he has
not had leisure to read. He referred to it, as soon as politeness
permitted, with a shrewd inquiry as to whether the book did not give
rather a rose-colored view of practical Catholicism. Mrs. X---- turned to
her daughters and said with all imaginable sweetness: "Just hear him,--
the poor child!" Then she went off into a long, eloquent, and really
interesting discourse on the true, sole, and original Christian Church.
She admitted, however, that during the sixteenth century the Christian
faith had much fallen into decay, and that Martin Luther was not to be
blamed for his exhortations against the evil practices of popes and
cardinals. Now that the Church had been reformed it was altogether
different. She told us how she became converted. It came to her like a
vision on a gloomy winter day, while she was looking into the embers of a
wood-fire.

Then she talked about Margaret Fuller, whom she called the most brilliant
woman she had ever known. She had never loved another woman so much; but
it was a dangerous love. If she wrote a rather gushing letter to
Margaret, she would receive in reply, "How could you have written so
beautifully! You must have been inspired." This, she said, had all the
effect of flattery without being intended for it, and was so much the
more mischievous. "Emerson and Margaret Fuller," said Mrs. X----, "put
inspiration in the place of religion. They believed that some people had
direct communication with the Almighty." P---- and I thought this might
be true of Miss Fuller, but doubted it in Emerson's case.

Miss X---- told me that she had lately ascended to the rotunda of the
Capitol, from which the pope's flag flies all day, and that she had asked
the Swiss guard what he would do if she hoisted the tricolor there. He
replied: "I should shoot you." Nothing could be more kind or truly
courteous than the manner in which these ladies treated us.

Another distinguished convert here is Mrs. Margaret Eveleth, a rare,
spirituelle woman, who was born within a mile of my father's house. She
was formerly a Unitarian, but soon became a Catholic on coming to Rome.
While she was in process of transition from one church to the other she
wrote a number of letters to her former pastor in New York, requesting
information on points of faith. Not one of these letters was ever
answered, and it is incredible to suppose that they would not have been
if he had received them. It is highly probable that they never left Rome.
I have myself been warned to attach my stamps to letters firmly, so that
they may not be stolen in passing through the Post-office. Postage here
is also double what it is in Florence.

_Feb_. 12.--I have been looking for some time to find a good picture
of Marcus Aurelius, and have generally become known among Roman
photographers as the man who wants the _Marc Aureli_. This morning I
had just left my room when I discovered Rev. Samuel Longfellow in a
photograph shop in the Via Frattina. "I was just coming to see you," he
said; "and I stopped here to look for a photograph of Marcus Aurelius."
He laughed when I told him that I had been on the same quest, and
suggested that we should walk to the Capitol together and look at the
statue and bust of our favorite emperor. "I think he was the greatest of
the Romans," said Mr. Longfellow, "if not the noblest of all the
ancients."

So we walked together--as we never shall again--through the long Corso
with its array of palaces, past the column of Aurelius and the fragments
of Trajan's forum, until we reached the ancient Capitol of Rome,
rearranged by Michael Angelo. Here we stood before the equestrian statue
of Marcus Aurelius, and considered how it might be photographed to
advantage. "I do not think," said Rev. Mr. Longfellow, "that we can
obtain a satisfactory picture of it. The face is too dark to be
expressive, and it is the man's face that I want; and I suppose you do
also."

I asked him how he could explain the creation of such a noble statue in
the last decline of Greek art; he said he would not attempt to explain it
except on the ground that things do not always turn out as critics and
historians would have them. It was natural that the arts should revive
somewhat under the patronage of Hadrian and the Antonines.

We went into the museum of the Capitol to look for the bust of the young
Aurelius, which shone like a star (to use Homer's expression) among its
fellows, but we discovered from the earth-stains on portions of it why
the photographers had not succeeded better with it. We decided that our
best resource would be to have Mr. Appleton's copy of it photographed,
and Rev. Mr. Longfellow agreed to undertake the business with me in the
forenoon of the next day.

The busts of the Roman emperors were interesting because their characters
are so strongly marked in history. The position would seem to have made
either brutes or heroes of them. Tiberius, who was no doubt the natural
son of Augustus, resembles him as a donkey does a horse. Caligula, Nero,
and Domitian had small, feminine features; Nero a bullet-head and sensual
lips, but the others quite refined. During the first six years of Nero's
reign he was not so bad as he afterwards became; and I saw an older bust
of him in Paris which is too horrible to be looked at more than once.
Vespasian has a coarse face, but wonderfully good-humored; and Titus,
called "the delight of mankind," looks like an improvement on Augustus.
The youthful Commodus bears a decided resemblance to his father, and
there is no indication in his face to suggest the monster which he
finally became.

Early in the next forenoon I reached the Hotel Costanzi in good season
and inquired for the Rev. Mr. Longfellow. He soon appeared, together with
Mr. T. G. Appleton, who was evidently pleased at my interest in the young
Aurelius, and remarked that it was a more interesting work than the young
Augustus. The bust had been sent to William Story's studio to be cleaned,
and thither we all proceeded in the best possible spirits.

We found a photographer named Giovanni Braccia on the floor a
_piano_ above Mr. Story; and after a lengthy discussion with him, in
which Mr. Longfellow was the leading figure, he agreed to take the
photographs at two napoleons a dozen. [Footnote: These pictures proved to
be fine reproductions, and are still to be met with in Boston and
Cambridge parlors.] When the bust was brought in Mr. Longfellow called my
attention to the incisions representing pupils in the eyes, which he said
were a late introduction in sculpture, and not generally considered an
improvement. After this Mr. Appleton called to us to come with him to the
studio of an English painter in the same building, whose name I cannot
now recollect. He was the type of a graceful, animated young artist, and
had just finished a painting representing ancient youths and maidens in a
procession with the light coming from the further side, so that their
faces were mostly in shadow, with bright line along the profile,--an
effect which it requires skill to render.

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