f
disease, and the practice which sprang from them, ran over the fields of
medicine for a time like flame over the grass of the prairies. The way
in which that knotty-featured, savage old man would bring out the word
irritation--with rattling and rolling reduplication of the resonant
letter r--might have taught a lesson in articulation to Salvini. But
Broussais's theory was languishing and well-nigh become obsolete, and
this, no doubt, added vehemence to his defence of his cherished dogmas.

Old theories, and old men who cling to them, must take themselves out of
the way as the new generation with its fresh thoughts and altered habits
of mind comes forward to take the place of that which is dying out. This
was a truth which the fiery old theorist found it very hard to learn,
and harder to bear, as it was forced upon him. For the hour of his
lecture was succeeded by that of a younger and far more popular
professor. As his lecture drew towards its close, the benches, thinly
sprinkled with students, began to fill up; the doors creaked open and
banged back oftener and oftener, until at last the sound grew almost
continuous, and the voice of the lecturer became a leonine growl as he
strove in vain to be heard over the noise of doors and footsteps.

Broussais was now sixty-two years old. The new generation had outgrown
his doctrines, and the Professor for whose hour the benches had filled
themselves belonged to that new generation. Gabriel Andral was little
more than half the age of Broussais, in the full prime and vigor of
manhood at thirty-seven years. He was a rapid, fluent, fervid, and
imaginative speaker, pleasing in aspect and manner,--a strong contrast
to the harsh, vituperative old man who had just preceded him. His
Clinique Medicale is still valuable as a collection of cases, and
his researches on the blood, conducted in association with Gavarret,
contributed new and valuable facts to science. But I remember him
chiefly as one of those instructors whose natural eloquence made it
delightful to listen to him. I doubt if I or my fellow-students did full
justice either to him or to the famous physician of Hotel Dieu, Chomel.
We had addicted ourselves almost too closely to the words of another
master, by whom we were ready to swear as against all teachers that ever
were or ever would be.

This object of our reverence, I might almost say idolatry, was one whose
name is well known to most of the young men before me, even