BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Edward Gamaliel Janeway was born in New Brunswick, New Jersey, August 31, 1841. He was graduated from Rutgers College in 1860, receiving the degree of B.A. and M.A. from that institution. In 1864 he was graduated from the College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York, receiving the degree of M.D. Later in life, the degree of LL.D. was conferred upon him, by Rutgers in 1898, by Columbia in 1904, and by Princeton in 1907. While in the medical school in the years 1862 and 1863, h

What it is that has kept urging me to write down these recollections of Edward Gamaliel Janeway, the physician, would indeed be rather hard to define, but the desire to record a little something of what I had personally come to know of this unusual man made itself felt very shortly after his death, now over five years ago. Since that time this feeling—steadily growing—seems irresistibly to have drawn me on to this endeavour to add some little part to the perpetuation of his memory—this man, who

It was not until a year or two later that I was again brought, in a medical way, into association with the Doctor. It happened to be at the beginning of summer and at a time when I was waiting for a hospital position in the fall, that I received word from him offering me a position in his office in New York to take the place of his regular laboratory assistant who was to be away for several months. No offer before or since ever sounded so good to me. The morning of the appointed day saw me there

As time went on, the structural elements of this extraordinary man's character became more and more evident. He was then at the very apogee of his useful career. His fame had found its way around the world. The makings of a material monument were within his easy reach—the thing which spells supreme success in life for so many men and women, and not a few physicians, was at his very door had he cared to look in that direction; yet his face was set steadily forward toward other things. If his inco

One morning I happened, for some reason or other, to be in the Doctor's office. A lady from a near-by town had been consulting him. As she was about to leave, she said: "Tell me, Dr. Janeway, about Dr. N. in our town. We have just gone there to live, you know, and we want to be sure to have the best doctor in case we have to call one in." Dr. Janeway replied: "You cannot do better than Dr. N. I know him very well. He is a good doctor. He won't do you any harm." The lady went away and I went back

Dr. Janeway's relation to his profession and to his fellow physicians was one of rare felicity, and well it might have been, for his code of professional conduct stood squarely upon that principle of consideration for others, on which the hope of a some-time civilization in reality, must ever rest. "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," was more than his motto; it was his motive; more than his precept, it was his practice. The revised version: "Do others before they do you," which

There is one notably outstanding memory of Dr. Janeway which dates from those earlier days in his office and which deals with that large class of people who imagine they are ill—those people whose numbers are directly proportionate to periods of so-called prosperity, who call forth innumerable cults of curing, and who are the mainstay of much of the mummery in medicine. I shall never forget one day at lunch after Dr. Janeway had been seeing some of these mentally mortgaged men and women. As he s

All too soon for me passed that period of service in Dr. Janeway's office, but as good fortune would have it, my future was still to feel the touch of that fine association. A year later, when my hospital work as an interne was over, Dr. Janeway's son, Dr. Theodore Janeway, asked me to make my office in his house. This arrangement continued for two or three years, when I found myself going to Europe for a winter's special study. With my return to New York, the necessity of a larger office brough

Self-contained and self-controlled as Dr. Janeway was, there were some things which kindled his righteous wrath to a state of militant activity. And one of these was petty political plotting in the ranks of his own profession—the profession he loved and believed in as an institution of sound progress when not soiled by selfish purpose. An instance of this came to me through a personal experience. It was soon after my return from study abroad, while I was seeking a suitable position in a city hos

There were three things I should say the Doctor did not like. One of these was the newspaper reporter who tried to get "inside" information when some especially prominent person happened to be a patient of his. This was not just a simple, single-sided dislike which the Doctor felt, either. The idea of any physician inviting press publicity was bad enough, but the idea of any physician telling the public about the private affairs of a patient was—well—. I happened one day to be with the Doctor wh

Now that these few ingredients of Dr. Janeway's greatness, which have come out of memory to mind, have found their way to paper, it is hoped they may not wholly miss their mark. Incomplete though the picture is, it should carry some clue to the character of the man who made the profession of medicine a finer and a better profession for his having been in it. To bring into any walk of life so much talent and truth, so much candour and courage, and withal, such simplicity and sincerity, is to leav