Autobiography of Charles Caldwell, M.D.

Front matter

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YALE MEDICAL LIBRARY

Contents

INTRODUCTION".

History — Meaning of the term — Autobiography — Its difficulties — Egotism — False modesty — Keasons for writing — Early companions — Books my real companions — Qui docel, discit — Exercise — Civility — Young Americans abroad — Trial of civility in London — Pleasures of retrospection — No accidental act — Disinterestedness — Attachments — Natives of the United States and Great Britain compared — Abbe" St. Pierre and Franklin. — Nature makes few great men, training many — Priestley — Ambition — Love of mental contest not a good habit . . . .17

Chapter I

My ancestral name — 'Whence derived — Uncle Davy — My father — My mother's family— Col. Murray — His exploits — My birth — Mecklenburg County, North Carolina— Go to school — My teachers — Progress — Begin Latin — Build a log study — Lose my parents — Teach in an academy — Remove to another — Besolve to study medicine . 55

Chapter II

Salisbury — My Preceptor — Dissatisfaction — Determine to go to Philadelphia — My friends in Salisbury — Henderson — Rev. Dr. Hall — Rev. Dr Archibald — Military escort — First view of Washington — Its effects on me — Leave Salisbury . 77

Chapter III

Philadelphia— Eloquence— Pulpit— Bar— Mr. L s— Mr. T.— His daughter—

Medical school — The Faculty — Shippen — His appearance — Character— Punctuality—Rush— His introductory— Khun— Wistar— His character— His classical learning

VI CONTENTS.

CHAPTEE IV.

Lectures— Mode of attending them— Notes— Critics— No parties— Mrs. Rush— A

party at her house— Rush's lectures— Analogy— Unity of fever— Dr. G tts—

His manners— Dr. Barton— His appearance-Courtesy— Character— Henry Moss — Dr. Woodhouse — His skill in chemistry 14"

CHAPTEE V.

Yellow fever in Philadelphia— Flight of the inhabitants— Commerce arrested— New York— Difficulty in obtaining lodgings— Fever Hospital— Write on domestic origin — Dr. Rush — His courage and firmness — His judicious practice — Calomel — Its efficacy as a remedy— Rush's dose of "ten and ten" — Rush's opinion of the domestic origin of yellow fever, supported by Aretsms, Jr.— Schuylkill water- Mode of debating— Close of medical session— Translated Blumenbach— Plan of study— Diet— Exercise— Failing health— The brain multiplex — Gall— Spurzheim

CHAPTER VI.

Military Campaign — Washington— Hamilton — Gen. G — r — y — An adventure — Am appointed surgeon to a brigade — A long walk — A fever cured by rain — Letter to Rush— Theses — Military banquet — A lady — Her influence . . . 203

CHAPTER VII.

Degree of M. D. — Thesis — What occurred at my examination — Offend Drs. Wistar and Rush- — Consequences — Begin practice — Success — Amusements — Chess — Dr. Rittenhouse — Dr. Rush signs my diploma — Waterworks in Philadelphia — Dr. Rush, the originator of domestic origin of yellow fever — Write in his support on that subject 228

CHAPTER VIII.

Post-mortem examination — Dr. Physick begins it — Its good effect — French Revolution— It promotes the knowledge of medicine — Napoleon — Medical School of Paris — Physical sketch of the city of Philadelphia — Origin and nature of yellow fever — Non-contagion — Philadelphia Almshouse — Lectures — The first clinical course — Rittenhouse — Henry Moss — Dr. Smith — Physicians of Philadelphia — Rush alone a, philosopher — Yellow fever again — Write anonymously — Am taken ill of the fever — Rush and Physick visit and attend me — Philadelphia Academy of Medicine — Deliver the semi-annual oration — Dr. Haygarth — Reply to his critique — Dr. Lettsom — Lost publications — Italian language — Prepare for teaching medicine ............. 256

CONTENTS. VU

CHAPTEE IX.

Prizes — Never lost one — Dr. Rush unfriendly — A prophecy — Brunonian theory of life — A public speech — Dr. Coxe — A scene in his lecture-room — Vitality of the blood — Dr. Darwin, Currie, Beddoesf and Lettsom — Correspondents — American medical independence 288

CHAPTEE X.

Sedatives and stimulants — Schuylkill water — Phrenology — Disease a unit — Methodical nosology — Reformation — Melancthon — Luther — Gen. Jackson — Ramsay — Coxe — Seybert — Death of Dr. Rush — Memoir of Dr. Rush in Delaplaine's Repository— Rev. Dr. Staughton — How to teach one's self the best tuition — Dr. Chapman

CHAPTEE XL

War of 1812 — Port Folio — Nicholas Biddlc — No contributors — Contents — Officers of the army1 — Events of the war — Gen. Brown — His character — Theatre — Quakers — Notes to Cullen — Chapman — Faculty of Physical Science — Appointed to a professorship — Dr. Cooper — Charles Hare, Esq. — Death of Dr. Wistar — Pronounce a eulogy on him — Rev. Dr. Ilolley — Invited to Lexington, Kentucky — Resign my professorship in Philadelphia — Character of Cooper — Priestley compared with Cooper ........... 321

CHAPTEE XII.

Leave Philadelphia — State of travelling — Long drought — Reach Lexington —

Points of the compass — Medical school — Professors — Dr. D y — An address to

the people — Address to the Legislature — My introductory — Valedictory — Reply to a critique on my " Life of Greene" — End of session — Departure for Europe — Liverpool — English women — Stage-coach anecdote — Mrs. Solomon — Roscoe — Bostock — Sir Astley Cooper — John Hunter — First interview with Abernethy — Mr. Lawrence — Mrs. Somerville — Ladies' conversation party — Chelsea Hospital — London — Speakers in Parliament — Thames tunnel — Coronation of George the Fourth— Death of Queen Caroline 349

CHAPTEE XIII.

Set out for Paris — Books — Where found, and why — Cuvier — Dupuytren — Baron

Larrey — Alibert — Lafayette — Grouchy — Duchesse de P Her courtesies —

Leave Paris — Frost in June — A French lady — Voyage home — Ship Electra — Storm — Lexington school — Proposal to remove it — Reasons — Valedictory — Louisville— Propose to erect u. school there — Difficulties — Opposition — No faculty — No means of instruction — Money — A public speech — Judge Rowan — James

Till CONTENTS.

Guthrie — Dr. Flint — Success of the School — Br. Yandell — Intrigues — Chair vacated— How filled — The medical faculty — Honorary degree offered, and refused — Graduating class — Their opinion and action — How the two medical schools of Lexington and Louisville were raised up, and how they declined . . 390

CHAPTEE XIV.

Have written on too many subjects — Authorship — Yellow fever — Dr. Eush at length convinced of its non-contagion — Plague — A French writer on it — Prison discipline 417

CHAPTEE XV.

Literary and scientific portion of my Autobiography — Catalogue — Conclusion 429 APPENDIX 451

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF DR. CALDWELL.

Introduction

History — Meaning of the term — Autobiography — Its difficulties — Egotism — False modesty — Reasons for writing — Early companions — Books his real companions — Qui docct, discit— Exercise — Civility — Young Americans abroad — Trial of civility in London — Pleasures of retrospection — No accidental act — Disinterestedness — Attachments — Natives of the United States and Great Britain compared — Abbe St. Pierre and Franklin. — Nature makes few great men, training man}- — Priestley — Ambition — Love of mental contest not a good habit.

Few words in the English language have been so variously interpreted as the term history. Yet so general is its use, and so high its importance, that none deserves to be more accurately defined, and, in its meaning, more exactly understood. Without such dctiuiteness and precision, more or less of mistake and disorder, if not of actual confusion and contradiction, must occur in the productions of the clearest thinkers, and the ablest and most accomplished speakers and writers, that express themselves on the subject.

The term history is of Greek origin, and is derived from a word which signifies, according to the different purposes for which it is employed on different occasions, a witness, a judge, or an umpire.

Retaining, in all cases, therefore, a sufficient remnant of its original and literal meaning to serve for the recognition of its sameness, it has been defined, according to the views and objects of the several writers, who have spoken of it to that effect, a narrative of events— a witness of the times— the light or lamp of truth— the remembrancer and teacher of life— and the messenger of antiquity. 2

But the definition of history which, all things considered, appears to be most significant and comprehensive, as well as most correct, and therefore preferable to every other, is, that it is that form of writing, which records and teaches truth and philosophy, by fact and example. For, if it do not teach "philosophy" as well as " fact," it is so far defective.

This is, in a particular manner, the most appropriate definition of individual history, or biography — especially of autobiography, provided it be executed with ability and faithfulness. In such a case, it reflects life as an aggregate of fact and philosophy, with as much accuracy as the mirror does the image of the object placed before it. For it is not to be doubted that, other things being equal, each individual, in consideration of his more correct and thorough knowledge of himself both bodily and mentally — especially of the grounds, motives, and consequences of his actions, no less than of the actions themselves, is better qualified than anybody else, to give a true account of his own life and character, and to render them as instructive and useful as their materials will admit. He can, with much more certainty and precision, tell, under what circumstances, and from what influences he performed or refrained from performing certain actions, adopted or rejected certain opinions and measures, and engaged in or declined certain enterprises, which presented themselves to him, and thus make his narrative more instructive and valuable, by enriching it with the true constituents, and the positive relations of cause and effect, than it could be rendered by any other person.

Under such advantages of information and knowledge, nothing but feelings excessive and ungoverned, misdirected, or in some other way perverted and deranged, can so detract from the fitness of the narrator to write his own history, as to render it unproductive of a beneficial result.

The feelings referred to as most likely to interfere with the accuracy and deduct from the value of the writer's narrative, are various, and some of them directly opposed to each other in their action and influence.

The chief and most formidable of them are excessive selfesteem and love of approbation, which, acting singly, or in co-operation, impel the individual preparing his own history, to aim

CHARLES CALDWELL, II. D. 19

at an inordinate and unmerited degree of standing and applause, by representing himself as the chief or one of the chief personages, and most effective agents, in every interesting scene and enterprise described by him. In opposition to these two strong and imperious feelings, is an excess of modesty and diffidence, inducing the self-historian to forego, in his narrative (by an entire omission, an inadequate representation, or some other mode of diminution or concealment of scenes and events), the amount of reputation and distinction, to which, from the part he performed in them, he is justly entitled. I need hardly add, that a predominance of the faculty of cautiousness, or secretiveness, or of both united, may readily, in cases which, without being specified, must present themselves to every one, make the autobiographer swerve from truth. Nor would it be difficult to refer to other feelings, which, when in a state of excitement, are but too well calculated to produce the same effect. Indeed, deep feeling of every description, is unfriendly to accuracy of perception, representation, and thought. While, by augmenting pathos, and rendering expression more elevated and intense, it may add to the force and effect of eloquence and poetry, it withholds from philosophy its purity and soundness, and from history the invulnerable authenticity which should always characterize it.

In proof of the incalculable value that may be imparted to autobiography, as a source of instruction in the philosophy of human conduct, that of Dr. Franklin may be confidently adduced. Of that wonderful man, the biographj- written by himself — plain, simple, and unlabored, as it is — contains, notwithstanding, an amount of philosophical teaching tenfold more abundant, genuine, and useful, than could have been incorporated in it, by all the other biographers on earth. It is hardly sufficient to call that composition the autobiography of Franklin. "With but little metaphorical extravagance, it may be pronounced Franklin himself; consolidated and pellucidly embodied in the essence of his own words; still living, acting, thinking, and feeling, with each spring of action, whether of body or mind, together with the action itself and its several consequences, as distinctly visible as if they were inclosed for exhibition in a cabinet of crystal.

If the representation, made in a preceding paragraph, of the several causes, so adverse and influential as to be likely to detract from autobiographical impartiality and candor, or entirely to subvert them, in behalf of their opposites, partiality and deceptiveness — if that representation be true (and I have no reason to apprehend that it will be controverted), then, for a person, engaged in writing his own biography, strictly and conscientiously to aim at, and accurately attain the just mean between the extremes of the contrary and conflicting causes, is no easy task. Nor is it one, which, however ably and perfectly executed, is rewarded by security from envy and obloquy, or even by protection from contradiction and injustice. Far otherwise. He who engages in it must be unusually sanguine and unsuspicious, and limited in his experience and knowledge of men and their practices, if he believe or even hope that he will escape the charge of vanity or self-conceit, or be shielded from some other more disparaging and offensive imputation. Provided his account of himself be in any marked degree commendatory and flattering, he must deem himself exceedingly fortunate, and kindly treated, if he be not suspected and publicly accused of an attempt to attract admiration, and attain celebrity, by studied fiction, or deliberate falsehood — or by both united.

In my own case, should the memoir I have commenced be prepared and published, the danger of an accusation of this sort will be not only imminent, but peculiarly annoying, if made on account of the difficulty, not to say the impossibility of meeting and refuting it. For, as will hereafter more fully appear, there exists not a human being, who is competent satisfactorily to testify to either the truth or the falsehood of an account, by whomsoever it may be given, of the first twenty-five years of my life. Th.e reason of this may be briefly rendered. There is not now to be found — it is believed that there is not now living, any individual, whose acquaintance with me was sufficiently intimate to authorize him to testify to a single fact respecting me, during those years— except, perhaps, my mere existence, and to my having been reputed an indefatigable student. No inaccuracies or objections, doubts or cavils, therefore, alleged in relation to my memoir during that period, can be conclusively either discredited or confirmed. My own statement, being the only testimony on the subject that can be adduced, must be admitted as true, regarded as doubtful, or rejected as false.

By these difficulties, however, my course shall be neither impeded nor changed. At no period of my life have I ever, in a matter of moment, "put my hand to the plough, and looked backward." Nor shall I do so now, by conforming to the practice of either the backslider, or the irresolute. Having commenced the story of my life, I shall tell it truly, though by readers who are strangers to my native feelings, and my habits early formed, and never departed from, I may be suspected of occasionally spicing it with fiction or fable. By those to whom I am sufficiently known, no suspicion of the kind will be entertained. And as respects the tribe of fault-finders by profession (for such beings have an existence), whether they be cavillers, snarlers, wise and wary doubters, or habitual contradictors, I hold them now, when approaching the close of my life, in the same calm and unalterable disregard (not to employ a harsher term) in. which I am known to have held them since its commencement.

In no other than this straight forward and fearless way, can I illustrate and effectually recommend certain springs and principles of action, which, on all important occasions, have moved and governed, and, with but few, if any exceptions, benefited me, since my childhood. Nor can I, in any other mode of proceeding, make, by means of them, so promising an effort to benefit others. And, in a case so plain and significant, so essentially connected with manly independence, and involving the performance of duties which ought to be held sacred and inviolable — in such a case, I will not give cause to have myself deemed a delinquent in auy scheme of useful action, from an apprehension of danger or mischief to myself, in consequence of having engaged in it. The man who will not, when necessary, incur hazards, for the sake of acting well his part in life, with a view to the promotion of the welfare of others, and the acquisition for himself of a well-founded and lasting reputation, will never achieve success, much less distinction, in relation to either object. Confirmatory of this view of the subject, is the well-known apothegm : " Nothing venture, nothing win." And though the maxim is expressed in language as homely as it is simple, yet, having withstood, undiminished in its credit and popularity, the dint of time and experience, for thousands of years, that fact alone furnishes abundant evidence that it is founded in truth. For nothing short of truth can bear unchanged the sweep of ages.

To those who have been carefully observant of the progress of human affairs, and sufficiently retentive of the events it exhibits, it would be superfluous to offer further proof of the truth of these remarks. To them, they are abundantly proved by their own observation and experience. Such individuals know it to be true, that more or less of hazard to either reputation, standing, influence, or all of them, is a never-failing concomitant of a resolute and independent attempt to aid in the production or promotion of striking and important discoveries and improvements, and of the benefits which result from them— especially if they involve any very obvious amount of novelty or change in things of long-established existence and repute— things incorporated with the partialities and prejudices of the public. And it matters but little whether the change be in principle or hypothesis, opinion or practice. It is assailed by opposition and clamorous contradiction, and its author by denunciation, and, perhaps, persecution. Instances in proof of this are coeval with the history of man, and have occurred with a frequency that cannot be numbered. So truly has it been remarked, by one of the most sagacious and virtuous of men, that "envy, detraction, and opposition are a tax, which every man must pay for an attempt to become eminent;" and, he might have added, more especially if his attempt prove successful. To this maxim I have never either witnessed or heard of an exception. Every individual that I have ever known, or been fully informed of, by history or otherwise, who, by his own talents and exertions, has rendered himself conspicuous and useful, whether by new and unusual means, or by new modes of employing means already in existence — every such individual who has, in any way, fallen under my notice, has had to encounter some form of dissatisfaction and malevolence, especially from some of his superiors in years, and of those who, because they are his elders, hold themselves also, as of necessity, his anteriors and superiors in knowledge and experience. Nor can the case be otherwise, until such a revolution shall have been produced in the character of man as to have given to his intellectual and moral the requisite ascendancy over his animal faculties. Then, but not before, will the iniquitous proceedings referred to have

CHARLES CALDWELL, II. D. 23

an end. Then, but not before, will men look on those, by whose enterprise and exertions they have been thrown into shade in reputation, standing, and influence, without envy, heart-burning, or calumny.

Does any one, fresh in youth and inexperience, regard this as a gloomy and censorious report, uttered by the lips of disappointment and chagrin, and not as a faithful representation of the events which human society exhibits? If so, let him embark in any pursuit he may choose, and mingle in the bustle of active and aspiring life, until he shall have attained the maturity and experience of manhood, and his opinion of it will be changed. He will acknowledge it then to be neither fiction nor exaggeration; but an unvarnished statement, conceived under the influence of sound intelligence, and framed in the simplicity and sobriety of truth. He will then deal in facts and maxims derived from the storehouse of ripened and substantial knowledge ; whereas, he had previously but sported with anticipations and fancies drawn from the flowery, but crude and evanescent creations of hope.

Does any one, actuated by mere curiosity, or by other motives higher and worthier, or still less defensible, feel inclined to inquire, why, under the sombre views and discouraging forethoughts just stated, I have embarked in the precarious and responsible enterprise of writing the history of my own life, and of adding to the weight of my responsibility, by embracing in it the reminiscences of my own time? To this question, regarding it as proposed, I reply, that several considerations have concurred in involving me in the task.

1. I have been not only requested, but entreated and importuned to engage in it, by sundry individuals, who have persuaded themselves that it may be rendered both interesting and useful, and who have a claim on my compliance not easily resisted.

2. No person, but myself, can execute the work, except from materials furnished by myself. Of this the reason is plain, and has been, in part, already stated. Of all my contemporaries, as heretofore mentioned, none who were my comrades in my early years, are now living; or, if so, I am a stranger to the fact. And were they even alive, and brought to the task, there are various reasons why none of them would be qualified to act as my biographer.

More than half a century has elapsed and done its work since we separated from each other; they remaining in the region where we were born, acting as choice or necessity influenced them ; and I removing to a distant one, in eager pursuit of knowledge and its concomitants. Since that remote period, therefore, they have been entire strangers to the events of my life ; and their previous knowledge of me must be swept from their minds by the checkered and eventful current of time. Nor is this all.

My books, from the time I was able to read them, and other sources of useful instruction, were the chief, if not all of my real companions; while my school-fellows and other acquaintances were the companions of one another. The end which I held constantly in view, and labored almost exclusively to attain, was useful knowledge and its applications, together with certain manly and not inelegant personal accomplishments ; while the end at which they aimed, in fact, though not in pretension, was, to an unreasonable extent, mere pastime and amusement. And to this wanton consumption of time corresponded the condition of their subsequent standing. A youth of idleness was succeeded by a lifetime, if not of ignorance, of humble mediocrity in science and letters.

With the few of them, who were at all inclined to cultivate their minds by scholastic exercises, I occasionally spent hours, at their own request, chiefly for the purpose of aiding them in their studies. In affording this aid, I had also in view my own improvement ; for I became convinced, at an early period of my life, of the truth and value of the Koman adage : Qui clocet, discit : he who teaches, learns. Not only, therefore, were my pride and ambition gratified, by an opportunity of showing my superiority to my fellow-students, by the magisterial process of instructing them in their lessons; I soon became sensible that that process added not a little to the accuracy of my own scholarship ; for every feeling of nature participant of self was concerned in showing that I possessed an accuracy which enabled me to explain with readiness difficulties in their tasks that were inexplicable to many others, who wer more than my equals in years, as well as in the time they had spent at school. Nor is it pro-

CIIARLES CALDWELL, M. D. 25

bable that my accuracy would have been as great as it -was, had I not been proud of exhibiting it ; and had I not, on that account, labored the more steadily and earnestly for its attainment. And that I might on the same principle, and by similar means, still further improve it, I became afterwards, for some time, nryself the principal director of an academic institution. To young men, moreover, Avho are ambitious to become thorough-bred scholars, and who may have an opportunity to do so, I recommend the adoption of a similar measure. During the time I thus employed myself in teaching others, I improved, in correctness and accuracy of scholarship, more than did any pupil under my care. And every young man, in the capacity of a teacher, may do the same. In truth, he cannot well fail to do it, provided he possess a sufficiency of self-respect, and be duly sensible of the dignity and deep responsibility of his office.

I have said that with my school-fullows, and other acquaintances, especially such of them as were idle and heedless as to the cultivation of their minds, I never familiarly and cordially associated. To this, however, an exception existed. During the hours regularly set apart for relaxation from study, and free indulgence in corporeal exercise, I was usually in the midst of those most eagerly and strenuously engaged. In my devotion to this employment, my design was not merely to escape from my books, give to my intellect relaxation and rest, and thus somewhat uselessly pass away my time; I had objects in view both important and interesting to me. I aimed at the preservation of health and hardiness, the augmentation of bodily strength and activity, and the improvement of myself in certain forms of athletic exercise, which were regarded as manly and useful accomplishments, and in which the youth of the place were accustomed to indulge. And, as I took part in such gymnastics at all, I determined to do so to the highest practicable effect. I therefore contended for superiority in them with the same earnestness and resolution which I habitually manifested in more elevated pursuits. Nor did I fail to convince myself that ambition, exertion, and perseverance were sure to prove in both equally the source of excellence and distinction. No sooner, however, had the time for corporeal exercise and training expired, than I left the gymnasium, withdrew to the re-

26 AUTOBIOGEAPHY OF

tirement and quietude of my study, and engaged, with renovated industry and ardor, in the cultivation of my mind.

After the remarks which have been made, it need hardly be added that a steady perseverance in the course of action just described, was not long in giving me, as already intimated, a decided ascendency in scholarship over my less attentive and laborious fellow-students. Nor was that its only effect. With my teachers it bestowed on me a corresponding elevation in favoritism and standing. Nor did it stop there. It gave me, as a youth, a highly flattering degree of celebrity in the surrounding country, and ultimately led to my election at a very early period of life to the directorship, heretofore alluded to, of a large and respectable literary academy. Such were some of its advantages. But it had also its disadvantages, which deserve likewise to be mentioned ; for all things human (especially if selfish feelings be awakened by them) are but a mixture, if not of actual good and evil, at least of something so closely approaching them as to be productive of very analogous effects — of convenience and inconvenience— likes and dislikes — commendation and censure — rewards and acts designed as punishments, with their natural consequences. It is not to be supposed that the bestowal of a marked degree of approbation, accompanied by occasional tokens of distinction, so flattering to me, and virtually condemnatory of negligent and comparatively ignorant members of the school, who, instead of commendation, were often the subjects of admonition and rebuke ; it is not to be imagined that such a condition of things added in any measure to my popularity with the mass of my fellow-students. On the contrary, among the habitual idlers and time-spenders of the institution, it materially detracted from it. The reason is plain. I have usually found that those who wantonly neglect the cultivation of their minds, when the requisite means are placed within their reach, are as destitute of magnanimity and justice as they are of industry. Their sense of demerit in themselves renders them envious and hostile toward merit in others. This truth is in perfect harmony with the invaluable advice of Polonius to his son Laertes:—