The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, Vol. 5 (of 9). Томас Джефферсон

too rarely to establish a definite disease; and to an unknown disease, there cannot be a known remedy. Here then, the judicious, the moral, the humane physician should stop. Having been so often a witness to the salutary efforts which nature makes to re-establish the disordered functions, he should rather trust to their action, than hazard the interruption of that, and a greater derangement of the system, by conjectural experiments on a machine so complicated and so unknown as the human body, and a subject so sacred as human life. Or, if the appearance of doing something be necessary to keep alive the hope and spirits of the patient, it should be of the most innocent character. One of the most successful physicians I have ever known, has assured me, that he used more bread pills, drops of colored water, and powders of hickory ashes, than of all other medicines put together. It was certainly a pious fraud. But the adventurous physician goes on, and substitutes presumption for knowledge. From the scanty field of what is known, he launches into the boundless region of what is unknown. He establishes for his guide some fanciful theory of corpuscular attraction, of chemical agency, of mechanical powers, of stimuli, of irritability accumulated or exhausted, of depletion by the lancet and repletion by mercury, or some other ingenious dream, which lets him into all nature's secrets at short hand. On the principle which he thus assumes, he forms his table of nosology, arrays his diseases into families, and extends his curative treatment, by analogy, to all the cases he has thus arbitrarily marshalled together. I have lived myself to see the disciples of Hoffman, Boerhaave, Stahl, Cullen, Brown, succeed one another like the shifting figures of a magic lantern, and their fancies, like the dresses of the annual doll-babies from Paris, becoming, from their novelty, the vogue of the day, and yielding to the next novelty their ephemeral favor. The patient, treated on the fashionable theory, sometimes gets well in spite of the medicine. The medicine therefore restored him, and the young doctor receives new courage to proceed in his bold experiments on the lives of his fellow creatures. I believe we may safely affirm, that the inexperienced and presumptuous band of medical tyros let loose upon the world, destroys more of human life in one year, than all the Robinhoods, Cartouches, and Macheaths do in a century. It is in this part of medicine that I wish to see a reform, an abandonment of hypothesis for sober facts, the first degree of value set on clinical observation, and the lowest on visionary theories. I would wish the young practitioner, especially, to have deeply impressed on his mind, the real limits of his art, and that when the state of his patient gets beyond these, his office is to be a watchful, but quiet spectator of the operations of nature, giving them fair play by a well-regulated regimen, and by all the aid they can derive from the excitement of good spirits and hope in the patient. I have no doubt, that some diseases not yet understood may in time be transferred to the table of those known. But, were I a physician, I would rather leave the transfer to the slow hand of accident, than hasten it by guilty experiments on those who put their lives into my hands. The only sure foundations of medicine are, an intimate knowledge of the human body, and observation on the effects of medicinal substances on that. The anatomical and clinical schools, therefore, are those in which the young physician should be formed. If he enters with innocence that of the theory of medicine, it is scarcely possible he should come out untainted with error. His mind must be strong indeed, if, rising above juvenile credulity, it can maintain a wise infidelity against the authority of his instructors, and the bewitching delusions of their theories. You see that I estimate justly that portion of instruction which our medical students derive from your labors; and, associating with it one of the chairs which my old and able friend, Doctor Rush, so honorably fills, I consider them as the two fundamental pillars of the edifice. Indeed, I have such an opinion of the talents of the professors in the other branches which constitute the school of medicine with you, as to hope and believe, that it is from this side of the Atlantic, that Europe, which has taught us so many other things, will at length be led into sound principles in this branch of science, the most important of all others, being that to which we commit the care of health and life.

      I dare say, that by this time, you are sufficiently sensible that old heads as well as young, may sometimes be charged with ignorance and presumption. The natural course of the human mind is certainly from credulity to scepticism; and this is perhaps the most favorable apology I can make for venturing so far out of my depth, and to one too, to whom the strong as well as the weak points of this science are so familiar. But having stumbled on the subject in my way, I wished to give a confession of my faith to a friend; and the rather, as I had perhaps, at times, to him as well as others, expressed my scepticism in medicine, without defining its extent or foundation. At any rate, it has permitted me, for a moment, to abstract myself from the dry and dreary waste of politics, into which I have been impressed by the times on which I happened, and to indulge in the rich fields of nature, where alone I should have served as a volunteer, if left to my natural inclinations and partialities.

      I salute you at all times with affection and respect.

      TO GENERAL WILKINSON

Washington, June 21, 1807.

      Dear Sir,—I received last night yours of the 16th, and sincerely congratulate you on your safe arrival at Richmond, against the impudent surmises and hopes of the band of conspirators, who, because they are as yet permitted to walk abroad, and even to be in the character of witnesses until such a measure of evidence shall be collected as will place them securely at the bar of justice, attempt to cover their crimes under noise and insolence. You have indeed had a fiery trial at New Orleans, but it was soon apparent that the clamorous were only the criminal, endeavoring to turn the public attention from themselves and their leader upon any other object.

      Having delivered to the Attorney General all the papers I possessed, respecting Burr and his accomplices, when he went to Richmond, I could only write to him (without knowing whether he was at Philadelphia, Wilmington, or Delaware) for your letter of October 21st, desired by the court. If you have a copy of it, and choose to give it in, it will, I think, have a good effect; for it was my intention, if I should receive it from Mr. Rodney, not to communicate it without your consent, after I learnt your arrival. Mr. Rodney will certainly either bring or send it within the course of a day or two, and it will be instantly forwarded to Mr. Hay. For the same reason, I cannot send the letter of J. P. D., as you propose, to Mr. Hay. I do not recollect what name these initials indicate, but the paper, whatever it is, must be in the hands of Mr. Rodney. Not so as to your letter to Dayton; for as that could be of no use in the prosecution, and was reserved to be forwarded or not, according to circumstances, I retained it in my own hands, and now return it to you. If you think Dayton's son should be summoned, it can only be done from Richmond. We have no subpœnas here. Within about a month we shall leave this to place ourselves in healthier stations. Before that I trust you will be liberated from your present attendance. It would have been of great importance to have had you here with the Secretary at War, because I am very anxious to begin such works as will render Plaquemine impregnable, and an insuperable barrier to the passage of any force up or down the river. But the Secretary at War sets out on Wednesday, to meet with some other persons at New York, and determine on the works necessary to be undertaken to put that place hors d'insulte, and thence he will have to proceed northwardly, I believe. I must ask you, at your leisure, to state to me in writing what you think will answer our views at Plaquemine, within the limits of expense which we can contemplate, and of which you can form a pretty good idea.

      Your enemies have filled the public ear with slanders, and your mind with trouble on that account. The establishment of their guilt will let the world see what they ought to think of their clamors; it will dissipate the doubts of those who doubted for want of knowledge, and will place you on higher ground in the public estimate and public confidence. No one is more sensible than myself of the injustice which has been aimed at you. Accept, I pray you, my salutations, and assurances of respect and esteem.

      TO THE SECRETARY OF WAR

June 22, 1807.

      I suggest to you the following, as some of the ideas which might be expressed by General Wilkinson, in answering Governor Saludo's letter. The introductory and concluding sentiments will best flow from the General's own feelings of the personal standing between him and Governor Saludo:

      "On the transfer of Louisiana by France to the United States, according to its boundaries when possessed by France, the government of the United States considered itself entitled as far west as the Rio Norte; but understanding soon after that Spain, on the