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THE 


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STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


J.  MAEION  SIMS,  M.  D.,  LL.  D. 


EDITED   BY   HIS   SON, 

H.  MARION-SIMS,  M.  D. 


■ 

NOV    13  t 


v, 


tF  V  - 


NEW  YORK : - 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

1,  3.  and  5  BOKD  STKEET. 

1884. 


t ' 


Copyright,  1884, 
By  D.   APPLETON   AND   COMPANY. 


EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 


This  "Autobiography"  was  written  up  to,  and  in- 
cluding, the  year  1863,  by  ray  late  father,  just  two 
months  prior  to  his  death,  while  on  a  visit  to  the  Hon. 
D.  L.  Yulee,  at  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts.  The  "  Story  " 
is  completed  from  letters  written  by  him  to  my  mother 
during  his  visits  to  Europe. 

To  further  show  the  noble  character  of  the  man,  even 
as  a  boy,  I  have  appended  a  few  letters  written  to  his 
then  "sweetheart"  while  a  student  at  college.  I  feel 
under  many  obligations  to  my  friend  Judge  Mackey,  of 
Washington,  for  his  able  introduction,  as  well  as  many 
valuable  suggestions  during  the  preparation  of  this  work. 

H.  Marion-Sims,  M.  D. 

267  Madison  Avenue,  New  Yoek,  July  26,  I884. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction 9 

CHAPTER  I. 

My  antecedents  —  Their  origin  —  Life   and   death  of  my  father  and 

mother 29 

CHAPTER  II. 

Lydia  Maekey  and  Colonel  Tarleton — An  episode  of  the  Revolution- 
ary War 44 

CHAPTER  III. 

My  early  school  experience  and  first  love — My  parents  remove  to  Lan- 
caster— Founding  of  Franklin  Academy — My  first  lie — The  story 
of  the  crooked  pin 54 

CHAPTER  IV. 

I  start  to  college  and  get  homesick — My  first  experience  with  wine 

not  a  success ...     80 

CHAPTER  V. 

History  of  dueling  in  South  Carolina — The  killing  of  Adams  and  Co- 
lumbus Nixon — The  Blair-Evans  duel,  how  it  was  prevented — 
The  Massey-Mittag  encounter 88 

CHAPTER  VI. 

College  days  continued — A  midnight  serenade — Almost  a  murder — 
The  class  of  1831 — Its  personnel — Class  of  1832 — Cole's  visit 
from  a  ghost — Fire  at  the  college — Cole's  heroism        .        .         .  100 


6  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I  graduate  from  college  and  choose  a  profession — My  father's  disap- 
pointment— 1  begin  the  study  of  medicine — The  masquerade  ball 
and  theatre 113 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Attending  lectures — I  start  for  Philadelphia  and  enter  Jefferson  Medi- 
cal College — Small-pox  among  the  students — Professor  McClellan 
— Professor  Patterson — I  graduate 126 

CHAPTER  IX. 

I  begin  the  practice  of  medicine — My  first  patient — My  second — I  leave 

Lancaster  and  go  to  Mount  Meigs — My  first  success      .        .         .139 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Seminole  war — A  journey  to  Philadelphia  and  New  York — An 
experience  in  Charleston — An  expedition  against  the  Creek  In- 
dians— A  sickly  season — An  attack  of  fever  .         .        .         .162 

CHAPTER  XL 

My  courtship — Obstacles  and  difficulties — My  secret  engagement — My 

marriage 1*7*7 

CHAPTER  XII. 

I  think  of  abandoning  the  profession — A  severe  attack  of  fever — My 
wife  and  children  ill  with  fever — I  resolve  to  seek  a  new  home — 
Journey  to  Lowndes  County  —  Final  determination  to  settle  in 
Montgomery 192 

CHAPTER  Xin. 

Numerous  surgical  cases — Successful  treatment  of  a  hare-lip — I  write 
a  description  of  the  case  for  the  "  Dental  Journal " — I  am  induced 
by  Dr.  Ames  to  publish  accounts  of  all  my  surgical  cases — My 
dislike  for  compositions  at  college,  and  an  experience  in  con- 
sequence        209 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

An  interesting  case  of  trismus  nascentiuni — My  discovery  of  the  cause 
of  the  disease — Case  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula — An  accidental  dis- 
covery— A  series  of  experimental  operations — Disappointments 
and  final  success 222 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Am  prosperous  and  happy — Death  of  my  second  son,  followed  by  a 
severe  attack  of  diarrhoea — Go  to  New  York  without  benefit — 
Recommended  to  go  to  Cooper's  Well,  where  I  find  relief — Return 
of  the  disease — Go  North  again — Return  in  improved  health — 
Recurrence  of  the  disease — Threatened  with  death        .        .         .  24*7 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Settling  permanently  in  New  York — Plan  of  a  woman's  hospital — Pre- 
pare to  lecture — Coolness  and  neglect  of  members  of  the  pro- 
fession— In  desperate  circumstances 2G7 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  friend  in  need — I  lecture  before  the  medical  profession — Action  of 
the  profession — Plan  for  organizing  a  woman's  hospital — Aid  of 
Mrs.  William  E.  Dodge,  Mrs.  Doremus,  and  Mrs.  Codwise — The 
hospital  established 2*78 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Recurrence  of  my  old  sickness — My  assistant  at  the  hospital — Charter 
of  the  Woman's  Hospital,  and  obstacles  overcome  in  procuring  a 
site  for  a  new  structure 296 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

My  reception  in  Dublin — Visit  Dr.  Simpson  at  Edinburgh — Go  to  Paris 
— Perform  operations  at  the  Paris  hospitals,  and  furore  in  con- 
sequence— Successful  operations  in  Brussels — An  extreme  case  of 
vesico-vaginal  fistula  successfully  treated — A  patient  from  the 
south  of  France  operated  upon — Startling  result  from  use  of  chlo- 
roform, and  method  of  resuscitation 307 


8  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XX. 

I  sail  from  New  York  and  return  to  Paris — Become  physician  to  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton — Death  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton — The  em- 
peror and  empress — Anecdotes  of  Trousseau         .        ...        .  328 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Letters  from  Dublin  and  Paris  to  my  wife — Social  Science  Congress — 
Made  knight  of  the  Order  of  Leopold  the  First — Military  review 
in  Dublin — Ignorance  of  French  surgeons — Operations  in  Paris 
and  London — The  political  situation  in  America  ....  343 

Appendix  I. — Letters 3tf9 

"        II. — Meeting  of  the  Medical  Society  of  South  Carolina  .         .  422 
"       III. — Tribute  to  the  late  James  Marion  Sims,  M.  D.,  by  W.  0. 

Baldwiu,  M.  D 425 

"       IV. — Report  of  the  Memorial  Meeting  of  the  Medical  Society 

of  the  District  of  Columbia 449 


INTRODUCTION. 


While  the  casual  reader  might  deem  the  following 
autobiography  incomplete,  since  it  terminates  nearly 
twenty  years  prior  to  the  death  of  its  illustrious  author, 
yet,  for  all  the  really  useful  purposes  of  a  life-record, 
it  is,  like  the  great  character  whose  trials  and  triumphs 
it  records,  fully  rounded.  It  includes  the  year  1863, 
at  which  date  he  had  received  general  and  authoritative 
recognition,  both  in  Europe  and  America,  as  the  fore- 
most clinical  surgeon  of  the  age.  The  honors  and  re- 
nown that  followed,  in  later  years,  were  but  the  natural 
sequence  of  the  work  that  he  has  so  graphically  re- 
corded. Under  the  simple  title  of  "  The  Story  of  my 
Life,"  he  has  in  the  most  fitting  terms  narrated  the 
origin  and  growth  of  those  achievements  which,  by 
the  general  judgment  of  enlightened  men,  have  stamped 
him  as  a  benefactor  of  his  race.  From  that  "  Story " 
the  reader  will  perceive  that  the  path  he  trod  to  final 
and  deserved  success  was  not  strewed  with  roses. 

In  the  early  period  of  his  career  in  New  York,  it 
was  almost  his  fate  to  furnish  a  memorable  illustration 
of  the  historic  fact  that  every  pillar  in  the  great  tern- 


10  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

pie  of  Truth  rests  upon  the  grave  of  a  martyr.  True 
genius,  however,  like  the  moss  of  Iceland,  flourishes 
best  beneath  the  snow.  Dr.  J.  Maeion  Sims  never  lost 
"  heart  of  hope,"  even  in  the  darkest  vicissitude  of  his 
life.  Like  the  Greek  wrestler,  Antseus,  he  arose  with 
renewed  strength  after  every  fall.  Never  did  he  once 
lower  his  lofty  crest,  but,  while  his  feet  were  sorely 
wounded  by  the  thorns  that  beset  his  daily  path,  he 
kept  his  sublime  head  amid  the  stars.  Of  all  profes- 
sions the  medical  is  slowest  to  welcome  the  reformer. 
It  has  always  stood  to  the  rearward  of  reform.  The 
reason  is  obvious.  Its  theories  are  translated  into  action 
upon  the  living  human  body,  and,  as  it  deals  with  vital 
problems,  it  accepts  with  caution  a  novelty  in  theory 
that  might  prove  mortal  in  practice. 

Hence  the  great  Cullen  was  severely  reproached, 
for  a  time,  because  of  his  novel  views  in  obstetrics. 
The  immortal  John  Hunter,  after  announcing  his  great 
lecture  on  comparative  anatomy,  through  the  press, 
found  but  a  "beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes"  when 
the  hour  for  its  delivery  arrived.  His  servant-man  was 
his  only  auditor,  and  the  great  anatomist  said  to  him, 
"  William,  take  that  male  skeleton  down  from  the  wall, 
and  place  it  in  a  chair  beside  you,  in  order  that  I  may 
begin  my  lecture  by  saying  gentlemen  with  grammatical 
propriety." 

Jenner,  when  he  introduced  vaccination  as  a  prophy- 
lactic against  small-pox,  was  gravely  accused  of  propa- 
gating, by  such   means,  the  very   disease  that  he  was 


INTRODUCTION.  11. 

endeavoring  to  prevent.  Harvey's  now  universally  ac- 
cepted theory  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood  encountered 
trenchant  criticism  for  many  years,  and  even  so  enlight- 
ened a  publicist  as  Sir  William  Temple  not  only  refused 
to  accord  it  any  credence,  but  denied  that  Harvey  was 
its  originator.  Coming  down  to  our  own  times,  we  find 
that,  as  late  as  1850,  Sir  James  Y.  Simpson,  of  Edin- 
burgh, the  great  clinical  surgeon,  not  only  had  to  en- 
counter the  dissent  of  the  profession  when  he  published 
his  "  Notes  on  the  Inhalation  of  Sulphuric  Ether  in  the 
Practice  of  Midwifery,"  but  he  was  anathematized  from 
the  pulpit,  as  opposing  the  revealed  will  of  God,  declared 
in  the  primal  curse  upon  woman,  "In  sorrow  shalt 
thou  bring  forth  children."  This  extreme  conservatism 
of  his  profession,  in  the  matter  of  reform,  exhibited 
itself  at  its  maximum  toward  Dr.  Sims  upon  his  advent 
in  New  York,  in  May,  1853.  It  was  conspicuous  and 
severe,  however,  only  among  its  recognized  leaders. 
That  was  doubtless  upon  the  principle  that  mountains 
are  coldest  at  the  top. 

It  is  due  to  the  medical  profession  to  state  the  fact, 
which  history  attests,  that  no  class  of  men  render  more 
exalted  and  unreserved  tribute  to  the  reformer,  when 
the  value  of  his  discovery,  or  improvement,  has  been 
shown  by  actual  demonstration.  The  deliberate  and 
impartial  judgment  of  the  majority,  once  expressed  as 
to  the  merits  of  a  contemporary  physician  or  surgeon, 
has  never  been  reversed.  Yet  its  justice  is  tardy,  and, 
like  the   sun,  it  moves   slowly  in   its  orbit.     Where  it 


:_  _::_  stoey  of  xy  life. 

does  not  actively  antagonize,  it  unconsciously,  as  it  were, 
obstructs  the  advai::  :  /T::":_^atory  movement  by  its 
ms  iaerthti.    Tins  is  f oreibly  exemplified  by  the  fact  that 

Tiongb.  Dr.  Sims  had  as  early  as   154:9    :-ured  a  large 
number  of  eases  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula,  and  had  pub- 

:ed  his  famous  paper  on  that  subje  -  ..-_-  _.. 

method  of  operating,  and  applying  his  silver  suture  to 

ire  the  result,  in  the  a  American  Journal  of  Medical 
:    ~  .unary.  1852       - "   if   ra  left  for  him,  in 
peisoiiy  in   I  irate    ;a  the  first  case  of  veaL:  - 

vaginal  fistula  ever  cured  in  the  aty    :  Kiev  T :  rk. 

But  i  nore  impressive  illustration  is  found  in 

the  fact  that  although  he  discovered,  in  lSio,  the  only 
effective  method  of  curing  trismus  nascentium,  and 
revealed  it  to  the  profession,  in  the  u  American  Journal 
e£  Medial  Sciences,"  in  18H  md  subsequently  pub- 
lished Ikis  **  Essay  on  tie  Pathology  and  Treatment  of 
7 :  :  -  2~  ■  -■:  r  i:ium,  or  Lock-jaw  of  Infants."  in  1861 
yet  that  method  hai  :eei  rr  ~r  rally  rejected,  and  has 
€»Iy  been  fully  vin  1  -  its  author. 

In  Januar  ~  I  -  -.  Dr.  J.  F.  Hartigan.  a  surgeon  of  de- 
~<z7- ■:■■':--  'zl^L  r-rT  :"c  iz  :Lr  ::_7  ::'  ~^~i.?l--_-  :i.  I.  f'.. 
published  an  admirable  monograph  in  the  u  American 
Journal  of  Medi        *  -:_/-r-      I:.-:_:-l"   jcen- 

tium  its  Bjstory,  Cause,  Prevention  and  Cure.*'  That 
_  ::  rraph  contains  a  rep«  : "  i  :wo  hundred  and  twen- 
ty^iine  cases,  and  jwrf  m&riem  examinations  occurring 
in  the  I>istriet  of  Columbia,  and  presents  the  result 
of  fire  years  devoted  with  signal  assiduity  and  success 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

by  Dr.  Hartigan  to  the  elucidation  of  this  momentous 
subject. 

Referring  to  the  diagnosis  of  his  earliest  cases,  Dr. 
Hartigan  writes  in  his.  monograph  :  "  The  extravasation 
observed  in  the  posterior  part  of  brain  and  spine,  and 
the  relative  situation  of  the  bones  externally,  now  at- 
tracted attention.  It  was  found  that  there  was  usually 
a  depression,  or  that  one  side  was  overlapped  by  the 
parietal  bone.  Here,  then,  was  rational  ground  for  the 
process  of  deduction  or  induction. 

"  Did  these  appearances  demonstrate  cause  and  ef- 
fect ?  viz.,  mechanical  pressure  of  the  occipital  or  parietal 
bones  on  the  brain,  through  the  intervening  dura  mater, 
finally  expending  its  force  on  the  pons,  medulla  ob- 
longata, and  the  nerves  issuing  therefrom — a  theory 
which  I  soon  found  had  been  advanced  over  thirty  years 
before,  by  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  then  of  Alabama  f 

"  Time  has  not  changed  the  views  of  this  distin 
guished  gynaecologist,  as  I  learn  from  a  letter  recently 
received  from  him,  and  I  believe  they  will  stand  pre- 
eminent in  the  history  of  his  great  achievements,  and 
their  truth  it  will  be  my  endeavor  now  to  establish 
with  some  additional  facts." 

He  has  established  "  their  truth,"  by  actual  demonstra- 
tion in  a  long  line  of  recorded  cures,  and  the  com- 
mendation which  his  timely  monograph  has  received 
from  the  profession  generally  gives  assured  promise 
that  the  treatment  of  this  disease,  which  stands  first 
in  the  long  catalogue  of  fatal  maladies,  will  not  hereafter 


14:  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

be  (in  the  language  of  Dr.  Sims)  "  one  of  varied  empiri- 
cism." In  his  autobiography,  Dr.  Sims  refers  to  the 
fact  that  his  doctrines  in  respect  to  the  pathology  and 
treatment  of  trismus  nascentium  had  not  been  adopted 
or  accepted  by  the  profession  at  large,  and  adds  : 
"  Truth  travels  slowly,  but  I  am  sure  that  I  am  right 
— as  sure  as  I  can  be  of  anything.  That  will  be  yet 
fully  understood  and  appreciated  by  the  profession." 

Dr.  Sims,  on  learning  by  a  letter  from  Dr.  Harti- 
gan  of  his  success  in  the  treatment  of  trismus  by  the 
"  Sims  method,"  wrote  him  from  Nice  in  April,  1882, 
in  a  spirit  of  just  exultation  :  "  You  are  the  very 
man  for  whom  I  have  been  waiting — lo !  these  thirty 
years  !  " 

His  was  the  exultation  due  to  vindicated  truth. 
The  wise  Athenians  embodied  in  one  brief  line  the 
history  of  the  true  reformer  in  every  age,  when  they 
erected  a  monument  to  Time,  and  inscribed  upon  it, 
"To  him  who  vindicates." 

As  the  purpose  of  this  memoir  is  chiefly  to  supply 
such  salient  facts  of  general  interest  as  transpired  with 
reference  to  Dr.  Sims,  after  the  period  embraced  in  his 
autobiography,  which  ends  with  the  year  1863,  though 
incidentally  referring  to  a  few  later  events,  it  has  been 
deemed  proper  to  present  the  following  brief  resume 
of  his  career  and  work  after  that  date.  While  residing 
in  London,  in  1865,  he  published  his  "  Clinical  Notes  on 
Uterine  Surgery."  That  work  was  issued  simultane- 
ously from    the   English,  German,  and    French   presses 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

iii  London,  Berlin,  and  Paris,  and  its  authority  was 
at  once  recognized  by  the  profession  throughout  En- 
rope  and  America.  In  his  late  memoir  of  Dr.  Sims, 
the  distinguished  surgeon  Dr.  Thomas  Addis  Emmet, 
of  New  York,  says  of  it  with  a  nicer  sense  of  justice 
than  has  marked  some  of  his  criticisms  of  his  early 
benefactor,  "Its  publication  was  the  turning-point  of 
modern  gynaecology,  or,  more  strictly  speaking,  Ameri- 
can gynaecology,  of  which  he  may  be  justly  termed  the 
father." 

In  1870,  while  in  Paris,  he  aided  in  organizing  the 
Anglo-American  Ambulance  Corps,  for  service  with  the 
French  army  in  the  field  during  the  Franco-Prussian 
War.  He  was  surgeon-in-chief  of  the  corps,  with  a 
staff  of  seven  American  and  eight  English  surgeons. 
He  arrived  on  the  field  of  Sedan  just  before  the  bat- 
tle, and  was  placed  in  charge  of  a  military  hospital 
with  four  hundred  beds. 

A  report  of  the  faithful  and  efficient  service  ren- 
dered by  that  corps,  under  the  administration  of  Dr. 
Sims,  has  been  published  in  London,  by  his  first 
assistant  therein,  the  eminent  surgeon,  Sir  William 
McCormack.  From  that  report  it  appears  that  the 
Anglo-American  Ambulance  Corps,  with  true  humani- 
tarian spirit,  rendered  great  and  essential  service  to 
both  of  the  hostile  armies,  as,  in  addition  to  its  vast 
number  of  French  patients,  it  treated  over  a  thousand 
wounded  Prussians. 

Dr.    Sims    remained    at     Sedan    a     little     over    a 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  IIFE. 

month,  when,  the  work  of  his  immediate  hospital 
being  completed,  he  resigned  his  position,  and  was 
succeeded  by  his  son-inrlaw,  Dr.  Thomas  T.  Pratt, 
f onmerly  of    Alabama,  bnt    now  a  surgeon  in  Paris, 

lance  Corps.  Soon  afha  severing  thai  same .::._. 
Dr.  Sims  returned  to  the  United  States,  and  in 
January.  1872,  was  appointed  a  member  :  the  Board 
of  Surgeons  of  the  ¥on^'=  Hospital  ::  tike  Slate 
of  ISTew  York.  On  May  1st  :z  thai  -  -  he  m_ 
tered  upon  the  duties  of  that  position,  which  he 
It.::  ~n.~rl  Zzi:—-:  1.  1:"-.  —  Leu  Lr  r-enlrrtc  Lis 
resignation,  which  was  accepted.  The  point  of  dif- 
ference between  Dr.  Sims  and  the  Board  of  Man- 
agers, that  led  to  his  resignation,,  was  one  that 
—  ..1L7  L7-T:'_-r~-i  Lis  5- ,:-:'ri -:-::.  A  ii_vr  izn.~  -7  :: 
surgeons  both  from  abroad  and  resident,  attended 
usually  to  witness  Dr.  Sims*s  operations  in  that  hos- 
pital. Such  visitors  were  cordially  welcomed  by  him, 
as,  the  greater  the  number  of  medical  observers,  the 
— Li-E-r  i::::;:  :Le  ri^r  ::  :Lr  ins.:- : rim  :L;,:  Lis 
:"'7r-i:i;r_s    ::_:;::ri. 

Ehe  board  thereupon  insisted  upon  the  enforee- 
Mir7_:  ::  1  n.r  >::  :::■-::  :j  ::fi  ~_i:i  Li_ii~ei  :Le 
r_--":^r    ::'  -:<:;::,::  :s    ::'   nj    ;_ir    ;  z^Tir.  :n  :■:    L::--fr_. 

The  reason  of  the  rule,  as  urged  by  the  board, 
was,  that  a  due  regard  for  the  modesty  of  pa- 
tients demanded  such  restriction.  The  student  of 
medical  ethics  will  be  sadly  puzzled  in  the  effort  to 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

divine  by  what  occult  process  of  reasoning  the  board 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  a  woman  in  a  state 
of  profound  anaesthesia,  or  otherwise,  would  have  her 
innate  modesty  more  shocked  by  the  presence  of 
thirty  observers  than  if  only  fifteen  were  gazing  upon 
her.  Although,  for  the  reason  above  stated,  Dr.  Sims 
earnestly  protested  against  the  enforcement  of  such 
rule,  not  only  as  derogating  from  the  value  of  the 
hospital  as  an  agency  for  diffusing  instruction  in 
clinical  surgery,  but  as  violative  of  that  immemorial 
usage  that  had  constituted  the  attendant  physician  the 
"autocrat  of  the  sick-chamber,"  the  board  adhered  to 
its  resolution,  fixing  "  fifteen "  as  the  limit  of  endur- 
ance, or   "  high-water  mark  "  of  woman's  modesty. 

Dr.  Sims,  whose  delicate  appreciation  of  all  the  pro- 
prieties of  professional  life  revolted  at  the  arrogance 
of  such  an  assumed  censorship,  tendered  his  resigna- 
tion, no  doubt  "  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger." 

He  could  not  but  be  deeply  sensible  of  the  fact 
that  was  known  of  all  men,  that  he  was  the  founder  of 
the  Woman's  Hospital  of  the  State  of  New  York, 
and  of  its  parent  institution,  the  "Woman's  Hospital 
Association.  The  ungracious  and  unwise  action  of  the 
board  was  therefore,  as  to  him,  barbed  with  ingrati- 
tude. It  must  have  led  him  to  recall  the  story  of  the 
wounded  eagle,  whose  pangs  were  increased  when  he 
saw  that  the  arrow  that  quivered  in  his  breast  had  been 
winged  in  its  flight  by  one  of  his  own  plumes. 

The  American  Medical  Association,  by  his  election 


18  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

as  its  president  in  1876,  emphasized  the  approving 
sanction  that  the  profession  generally  accorded  to  Dr. 
Sirns  for  his  action  in  this  matter. 

In  February,  1877,  he  revisited  for  the  last  time 
the  place  of  his  birth,  in  Lancaster,  South  Carolina. 

No  more  trusty  hearts  or  friendly  hands  ever  greeted 
him  than  welcomed  him  back  to  the  home  of  his  boy- 
hood. They  little  thought  that  the  head  of  the  young 
physician,  that  forty-one  years  before  had  been  bowed 
with  humiliation  at  the  loss  of  his  first  two  patients, 
was  destined  to  leave  undying  luster  in  the  sky  of  both 
hemispheres,  when  it  bowed  to  its  final  rest. 

Through  all  the  intervening  time  that  true-hearted 
people  had  watched  his  varied  career  with  the  deep- 
est interest,  and  they  justly  gloried  in  the  fact  that  Gen- 
eral Andrew  Jackson,  the  foremost  American  soldier, 
and  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  the  foremost  surgeon  of  his 
age,  were  both  bom  and  reared  in  "  Old  Lancaster." 

Nor  in  the  day  of  their  sorest  need  had  he  been 
und mindful  of  them,  while  he  was  winning  laurels  on 
fields  afar. 

In  February,  1865,  General  "W.  Tecumseh  Sherman 
passed  over  that  section  with  his  army.  That  com- 
mander bore  among  his  baptismal  titles,  as  if  in  fore- 
cast of  his  military  career,  the  name  of  a  sanguinary 
Indian  savage.  The  flames  of  defenseless  cities  and 
villages,  the  smoking  ashes  of  homesteads  and  school- 
houses,  were  the  monuments  of  his  march  through 
South   Carolina.      He  reared   those  ghastly  columns  of 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

his  only  victories  in  his  own  country  and  among  his 
own  people. 

Dr.  Sims,  on  learning  of  the  destitution  that  pre- 
vailed in  his  native  county,  forwarded  five  thousand 
francs  from  Paris  for  the  relief  of  the  most  needy. 
He  subsequently  added  to  that  benefaction  a  sum 
with  which  a  spacious  mansion  and  sixty  acres  of 
land  were  purchased,  as  a  home  for  the  helpless  indi- 
gent. The  building  now  shelters  some  forty  needy 
inmates,  and  is  known  as  "  The  J.  Marion  Sims  Asy- 
lum for  the  Poor."  Accompanied  by  his  noble  wife 
he  spent  ten.  days  in  Lancaster.  With  her  he  there 
recalled  the  dear  dead  summers  of  the  heart,  amid 
the  scenes  of  their  early  and  only  love.  Ah !  well, 
indeed,  did  he  pay  high  tribute  to  her  exalted  worth 
and  preserve  for  fifty  years,  and  up  to  the  hour  of 
his  death,  the  rose  she  gave  him  there  as  the  pledge 
of  their  plighted  troth. 

He  might  in  very  truth  have  said  of  her,  as  Car- 
lyle  wrote  of  the  faithful  companion  of  his  life-strug- 
gles, aShe  was  my  angel,  and  unwearied  comforter, 
and  helper  in  all  things,  and  shone  round  me,  like  a 
bright  aureola,  when  all  else  was  black  and  chaos." 

He  went  from  Lancaster  to  Columbia,  South  Caro- 
lina, where  he  spent  a  few  days,  and  made  a  filial 
visit  to  his  alma  mater,  the  old  South  Carolina  College. 

Thence  he  went  to  Montgomery,  Alabama.  His 
return  to  that  scene  of  his  earliest  professional  suc- 
cess, where  his  genius   had  been   fostered  with   a  gen- 


20  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

erous  hand,  and  where  he  had  made  his  great  discov- 
eries in  surgery,  was  a  real  triumphal  entry.  He 
arrived  on  March  14,  1877,  and  was  welcomed  by  the 
Medical  and  Surgical  Society  of  Montgomery,  and 
by  the  citizens  generally,  with  joyful   acclamations. 

The  address  of  his  old  and  honored  friend,  Dr. 
W.  O.  Baldwin,  together  with  the  response  of  Dr. 
Sims,  on  that  occasion,  form  interesting  additions  to 
his  autobiography,  and  are  therefore  included  in  this 
volume. 

Soon  after  this  brief  pilgrimage  to  the  South  he 
returned  to  New  York,  and  in  the  following  au- 
tumn again  returned  to  Paris  with  his  family.  He 
was  elected  President  of  the  American  Gynaecologi- 
cal Society,  and  served  in  that  capacity  in  the  year 
1880. 

While  in  New  York,  in  the  winter  of  1881,  he 
was  attacked  with  pneumonia,  which  nearly  proved 
fatal,  his  recovery  being  due  only  to  his  strong  vital- 
ism. 

It  left  deep  traces  upon  his  constitution,  seriously 
affecting  his  left  lung,  although  in  a  few  months  he 
apparently  recovered  from  its  effects. 

In  speaking  of  it,  he  was  wont  to  say,  "But 
for  that  attack  of  pneumonia,  I  would  probably  have 
lived  to   the   age   of  ninety." 

It  did  not  in  any  degree  abate  his  untiring  energy. 
His  great  intellectual  forces,  which  he  kept  in  cease- 
less  activity,   compared  with  his  by  no   means   robust 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

body,  suggested  the  idea  of  a  bright  and  keen  Da- 
mascus sword-blade,  constantly  cutting  through  its 
incasing  scabbard. 

It  should  be  stated  also  that,  in  1881,  Jefferson 
University,  Pennsylvania,  conferred  upon  him  the  mer- 
ited degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws.  He  again  left  for 
Europe  early  in  1882,  and  remained  in  Paris  until 
August,  1SS3,  when  he  returned  with  his  family  to 
New    York. 

He  visited  Washington,  D.  C,  October  28th,  and 
spent  three  days  in  pleasant  communion  with  his 
many  professional  and  personal  friends  at  the  national 
capital.  He  regarded  Washington  as  one  of  the  most 
healthy  cities  in  the  world,  and  in  view  of  its  social 
and  climatic  advantages  he  determined  to  make  it 
his  home.  For  that  purpose  he  purchased  a  building- 
lot  in  one  of  the  most  attractive  parts  of  the  city, 
intending  to  have  erected  a  suitable  mansion  upon  it, 
and  after  two  or  three  years  more  of  active  practice 
to  rest  from  his  labors,  and  to  find  there  that  re- 
pose which  every  man  should  seek  to  obtain,  some- 
where, between  the  cradle  and  the  grave. 

The  title-deeds  to  that  property  were  executed 
but  three  days  prior  to  his  death.  His  intention  was 
to  start  for  Southern  Europe  on  November  8th,  as 
he  feared  the  rigor  of  our  Northern  winter,  and 
he  purchased  tickets  for  himself  and  family  on  the 
steamer  to  sail  that  day.  He  was  induced  by  the 
earnest  appeal  of  friends  to  defer  his  departure  to  the 


22  THE  STOEY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

17th  of  that  month,  in  order  that  he  might  per- 
form  a   very   delicate   and   difficult  operation   on   Mrs. 

X ,  the  wife  of  a  prominent   citizen  of  New  York. 

He  performed  the  operation  with  marked  success,  and 
was  highly  gratified  at  the  result.  The  very  favorable 
prognosis  of  that  most  complex  case,  together  with 
his  recent  purchase  of  a  most  eligible  site  for  his 
contemplated  home  in  Washington,  and  the  early 
prospect  of  his  return  to  Europe,  led  him  to  exclaim 
the  day  before  his  death,  while  in  the  midst  of  his 
happy  and  most  interesting  family,  "  Well,  this  is  one 
of  the  happiest  days  of  my  life !  "  He  returned  to  his 
home  at  No.  267  Madison  Avenue  about  eleven  o'clock 
on  the  night  of  November  12,  from  a  visit  to  that 
patient.  He  complained  of  feeling  a  slight  chill,  and 
his  wife  handed  him  a  little  whisky  and  water,  which 
he  drank  at  her  suggestion.  He  had  a  strong  aver- 
sion to  alcoholic  stimulants  in  every  form,  and  said  to 
her,  "  You  will  never  get  me  to  take  another  dose 
of  that  abominable  stuff  as  long  as  I  live."  He  re- 
tired, but  was  very  restless  and  unable  to  sleep.  He 
said  to  his  wife,  "  Place  your  hand  over  my  heart, 
and  feel  how  it  beats."  He  soon  after  arose  and,  sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  proceeded  to  make  memoranda  of 
matters  that  would  require  his  attention  on  the  fol- 
lowing day.  After  he  had  been  thus  engaged  for  some 
time,  as  she  had  often  to  guard  him  against  overwork 
by  her  amiable  coercion,  she  put  out  the  light,  say- 
ing, "Now  I  will  see  if  you  will  stop  writing." 


INTRODUCTION*.  23 

He  continued,  however,  to  jot  down  memoranda 
for  a  little  while  longer,  and  then  reached  over  to  a 
glass  of  water  that  was  near  bjj  and  drank  a  little  of 
it.  As  he  replaced  the  glass,  he  sank  back,  and  began 
to  breathe  very  hard.  His  watchful  wife  saw  at  a 
glance  that  he  was  breathing  with  great  difficulty, 
and  instantly  summoned  her  son,  Dr.  H.  Marion 
Sims  from  an  adjacent  room.  He  arrived  quickly, 
but  came  too  late. 

The  great  surgeon,  the  evangelist  of  healing  to 
woman,  had  met  his  God.  The  worker  was  at  rest. 
Dr.  Sims  states  in  his  autobiography,  with  a  mild 
tinge  of  superstition,  that  the  13th  of  the  month  was 
always  a  "lucky  date"  with  him,  and  with  good  rea- 
son he  esteemed  "  13 "  his  lucky  number. 

He  instances  his  birth  in  1813  ;  he  graduated  at 
college  on  the  13th ;  he  left  Lancaster  for  Alabama 
on  the  13th;  and  he  arrived  in  New  York  on  the 
13th. 

To  those  coincidences,  the  mournful  addition  must 
be  made  that  he  died  at  about  fifteen  minutes  past 
three  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  November  13th,  1883. 

It  proved,  indeed,  a  fortunate  day  for  him,  for  it 
was  that  on  which  his  "mortal  put  on  immortality." 

The  ancient  Romans  declared  that  "  Sudden  death 
is  given  only  to  the  favorites  of  the  gods." 

Up  to  the  hour  of  Dr.  Sims's  death,  his  hand  had 
not  lost  its  skill  or  his  eye  its  brightness.  All  of  his 
mental   faculties   were   in   full  vigor,  and,  although   he 


24  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

had  nearly  rounded  his  seventy-first  year,  time  had 
written  scarce  one  wrinkle  upon  his  brow. 

He  was  about  five  feet  eight  and  a  half  inches  in 
height,  his  figure  well  molded,  and  though  delicate 
yet  not  without  some  degree  of  robustness.  His  car- 
riage was  erect,  with  somewhat  of  a  military  bearing, 
and  his  step  quick  though  well  measured.  His  face 
was  oval,  his  nose  approaching  the  Grecian  type.  He 
had  clear,  but  deep-set  eyes,  which  were,  like  the  origi- 
nal color  of  his  hair,  of  a  deep  brown.  His  eye-brows 
were  heavy,  and  well  curved.  His  mouth  was  admir- 
ably formed,  the  lips  being  of  medium  fullness,  the 
lower  lip  somewhat  the  fuller,  indicating  decision  of 
character.  His  smile  was  one  of  kindly  sweetness.  His 
head  was  rather  below  than  above  the  average  size, 
and  its  unusual  height  in  proportion  to  its  circumference 
pointed  to  his  Gaelic  origin,  for,  through  his  mother, 
the  blood  of  the  MacGregors  of  McAlpin  coursed  full- 
proof  in  the  veins  of  their  descendant.  His  tout  en- 
semble suggested,  in  all  respects,  Sir  John  Bell's  ideal 
of  the  qualities  necessary  in  a  truly  great  surgeon — 
"  The  brain  of  an  Apollo,  the  heart  of  a  lion,  the  eye 
of  an  eagle,  and  the  hand  of  a  woman." 

He  was  brave  without  being  aggressive,  though  al- 
ways ready,  on  proper  occasions,  to  assert  the  "  courage 
of  his  convictions."  His  manliness  of  nature  was  joined 
to  the  most  tender  sensibility  and  trusting  simplicity — 
the  strong  pinions  of  the  eagle  folded  around  the  warm 
heart  of  the  dove. 


INTRODUCTION".  25 

He  gave  largely  in  private  charity,  rather  consider- 
ing the  needs  than  the  merits  of  those  who  sought  his 
aid.     In  this  respect  it  may  be  justly  said  of  him : 

"  And  e'en  his  failings  leaned  to  Virtue's  side." 

He  always  had  a  long  roll  of  charity  patients.  He 
"  heard  the  cry  of  the  poor,'-  and  freely  gave  to  them 
the  ministrations  of  his  matchless  skill. 

"Well,  indeed,  has  the  Christian  derived  from  the 
grand  profession  which  Dr.  Sims  adorned  that  most 
endearing  title  of  onr  Divine  Master — -"The  Great 
Physician."  No  class  of  men  give  as  much  unrequited 
labor  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  the  poor. 

He  had  a  lofty  scorn  of  hypocrisy  in  every  guise. 
It  was  the  inflexible  rule  of  his  life  to  seem  what  he 
was  and  to  be  what  he  seemed.  He  was  a  hearty  hater 
when  smarting  under  a  sense  of  injury,  but  ever  quick- 
ly forgave  the  regretted  wrong  that  was  done  him. 
He  was  true  as  well  as  brave,  and  never  turned  his 
back  on  friend  or  foe. 

His  chivalric  spirit  came  to  the  front  in  1877,  when, 
in  behalf  of  Dr.  Crawford  TV".  Long,  of  Athens,  Geor- 
gia, he  established  his  claim  to  the  high  merit  of  being 
the  discoverer  of  anesthgesia,  by  the  inhalation  of  the 
vapor  of  sulphuric  ether  to  produce  insensibility  to 
pain  in  surgical  operations,  as  early  as  March,  1842. 

Dr.  Long  was  then  languishing  in  poverty  and  neg- 
lect, but  the  appeal  of  Dr.  Sims  procured  him  ample 
aid    in    his   declining    years.      He   was    especially   the 


26  THE  STORY  OF   MY  LIFE. 

kindly  friend  and  patron  of  young  men,  always  ready 
to  encourage  and  aid  them  in  the  path  of  honorable 
effort.  To  women  he  was  ever  knightly  and  consider- 
ate, and  woman  in  every  station  trusted  in  him  with 
an  unreserved  faith,  whether  her  heart  beat  beneath  the 
royal  purple  of  the  queen  or  under  the  russet  home- 
spun of  the  peasant.  His  mind  was  profoundly  ana- 
lytic. Within  the  orbit  of  his  investigations  he  traced 
every  effect  to  its  ultimate  cause. 

His  inventive  powers  were  of  the  highest  order. 
His  fertility  of  resources  made  him  equal  to  every 
emergency,  and  he  either  found  a  path  or  made  one. 
He  was  pre-eminently  a  grateful  man,  and  during  his 
long  life  he  left  no  favor  unrequited. 

Henri  L.  Stuart,  wTho  befriended  him  in  the  day  of 
his  need,  "  builded  better  than  he  knew,"  when,  by  his 
admirable  tact,  he  enabled  Dr.  Sims  to  introduce  him- 
self to  the  medical  profession  in  New  York.  In  after 
years  Dr.  Sims  lavished  his  generous  bounty  on  that 
uncouth  but  clever  newspaper  reporter.  But,  withal, 
he  was  an  earnest  Christian,  not  only  by  inherited  faith, 
but  from  conviction  based  upon  a  profound  study  of 
the  evidence  that  supports  the  sublime  verities  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

His  professional  fame  rests  upon  his  treatment  and 
cure  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula,  before  his  operation 
deemed  incurable,  he  having  invented  and  applied  the 
silver  suture  to  secure  the  result  of  such  operation. 

Second :  His  invention  of  the  speculum  which  bears 


INTRODUCTION.  27 

his  name — the  most  effective  known — to  enable  the  sur- 
geon to  make  a  correct  diagnosis  in  uterine  complaints. 
In  the  memoir  already  cited,  Dr.  Emmet  says  of  the 
"  Sims  speculum,"  "  From  the  beginning  of  time  to 
the  present,  I  believe  that  the  human  race  has  not 
been  benefited  to  the  same  extent,  and  within  a  like 
period,  by  the  introduction  of  any  other  surgical  instru- 
ment. Those  who  do  not  fully  appreciate  the  value 
of  the  speculum  itself  have  been  benefited  indirectly 
to  an  extent  they  little  realize,  for  the  instrument,  in 
the  hands  of  others,  has  probably  advanced  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  diseases  of  women  to  a  point  which  could 
not  have  been  reached  for  a  hundred  years  or  more 
without  it." 

Third :  Upon  his  exposition  of  the  pathology  and 
true  method  of  cure  of  trismus  nascentium  or  the 
lock-jaw  of  infants. 

Fourth  :  Upon  the  established  fact  that  he  was 
the  founder  and  organizer  of  The  "Woman's  Hospital 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  the  first  institution  ever 
dedicated  exclusively  to  the  cure  of  the  diseases  of 
women. 

Fifth :  Upon  his  many  valuable  contributions  to 
medical  literature. 

There  survive  him,  his  widow  and  his  eldest  son, 
Dr.  Harry  Marion  Sims,  of  New  York,  and  four  daugh- 
ters, and  a  brother  and  two  sisters. 

His  youngest  son,  William,  an  amiable  young  gen- 
tleman,   survived    him   but   a  little    more    than    three 


98  THE   STORY   OF   2IY  LITE. 

months,  and  reposes  by  the  side  of  his  father  in  Green- 
wood Cemetery. 

Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims  has  left  a  name  that  the  world 
will  not  willingly  let  die.  The  members  of  the  medical 
profession  throughout  the  United  States  may  truly  ex- 
claim, on  contemplating  his  great  achievements,  in  the 
words  of  the  inscription  above  the  statue  of  La  Place, 
in  the  hall  of  the  French  Academy  of  sciences :  "  We 
were   not  needed  for  h  is  glory  •   he   was   necessary  to 

ours !  n 

T.  J.  M. 


CHAPTEK  I. 

My  antecedents — Their  origin — Life  and  death  of  my  father  and  mother. 

Doctors  seldom  write  autobiographies.  They  never 
have  leisure,  and  their  lives  are  not  so  full  of  adventure 
or  incident  as  to  be  interesting  to  the  general  reader. 
It  may  be  presumptuous  in  me  to  leave  notes  of  my  life ; 
but  many  of  my  friends  have  pressed  me  to  do  so.  The 
first  man  who  suggested  it  to  me  was  the  Hon.  Henry  W. 
Hilliard — statesman,  jurist,  divine,  diplomatist — whom  I 
knew  very  well  when  I  lived  in  Montgomery,  Alabama. 
In  1857  he  came  to  see  me  in  New  York,  and  said  the 
object  of  his  visit  was  to  tell  me  to  begin  to  make  notes 
of  my  life-work.  He  said  he  had  been  selected  as  biog- 
rapher of  the  late  Hon.  William  C.  Preston,  who  was 
so  distinguished  in  South  Carolina  as  jurist,  orator,  and 
statesman.  He  went  to  Columbia  to  get  material  for  his 
work,  which  to  him  would  have  been  a  labor  of  love, 
could  he  have  found  enough  on  which  to  build  the  tem- 
ple of  this  brilliant,  useful  life.  But  he  got  only  some 
political  speeches  delivered  in  Congress,  and  the  record 
of  his  brief  presidency  of  the  South  Carolina  College,  to 
which  he  had  been  called  after  his  great  intellect  had 


30  THE   STOEY   OF   MY  LIFE. 

been  shaken  by  a  paralytic  attack.  Mr.  Hilliard  said 
that  he  had  noticed  my  rise  and  progress  in  my  pro- 
fession while  I  lived  in  Montgomery,  and  had  heard  of 
the  work  I  had  done  in  Xew  York,  and  he  thonght  it 
worthy  of  record.  I  was  very  much  surprised,  and 
blushed  like  a  woman,  and  told  him  that  all  this  was  a 
matter  of  interest  onlv  to  my  wife  and  children. 

In  later  years  I  have  often  been  requested  by  friends 
to  write  the  story,  and  I  have  promised  to  do  so.  In 
1880,  December  19,  I  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  I 
sent  for  Dr.  Loomis.  who,  when  asked  what  was  my 
malady,  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  you  have  pleuro- 
pneumonia.'' 

"  ^Tell,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall  die  on  Wednesday  or 
Thursday ;  certainly  by  Thursday,  the  fifth  day.  I  am 
sixty-eight,  and  pneumonia  kills  all  old  men  among  us 
in  from  three  to  five  days.  Tery  few  recover  at  my 
time  of  life.  I  am  ready  to  die,  but  my  life's  labors 
are  not  finished.  If  I  had  completed  my  book,  and 
if  I  had  left  notes  of  an  autobiography,  as  I  have 
promised  so  many  of  my  friends,  then  my  life  would 
have  been  rounded  up,  and  I  would  now  have  nothing 
more  to  do  but  fold  my  arms  and  die."  But  for- 
tunately my  life  was  spared.  Skillful  management 
and  inherited  vitalism  carried  me  through ;  and,  after 
two  years  of  care  and  effort,  I  regained  my  health. 

In  May  and  June,  1883,  I  had  under  my  profes- 
sional care  a  very  dear  young  friend,  whom  I  had 
known  from  early  girlhood.     She  had  been  an  invalid 


THE   ORIGIN   OF  MY  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  31 

for  a  long  time,  and  was  a  bed-ridden  sufferer.  I 
made  her  frequent  visits  daily,  as  I  saw  that  moral 
management  was  of  great  importance  in  the  treatment 
of  her  case.  During  one  of  these  social  visits,  when  I 
was  in  the  habit  of  drawing  her  away  from  herself  by 
talking  of  topics  of  the  day,  she  asked  me  a  question 
about  myself ;  when  I  replied  "  Oh,  that  is  one  of  my 
life  stories.  You  know  life  is  a  series  of  little  stories 
which,  when  all  strung  together,  make  the  complete 
story  of  the  life.  I  have  no  time  to-day,  but  to-morrow 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it."  When  the  morrow  came, 
and  the  story  was  told,  she  asked  other  questions  of  a  per- 
sonal character.  And  thus  she  catechised  and  cross-ques- 
tioned me,  day  after  day,  and  at  last  she  even  wished 
me  to  tell  the  story  of  my  courtship  and  marriage. 
At  this  I  rebelled  ;  but  she  insisted,  and  so  she  had  her 
own  way.  It  all  ended  in  my  agreeing  to  write  out 
the  life-notes  in  their  smallest  details.  I  am  now  sur- 
prised to  see  what  an  influence  this  poor  little  sick  girl 
exerted  over  me  in  this  regard  ;  for,  if  I  had  done  this 
work  five  years  ago,  I  would  only  have  given  an  ac- 
count of  my  struggles  and  successes,  and  left  out  the 
inner  man,  the  personal  life. 

I  have  now  made  a  long  apology  for  promising  to 
write  this  life.  But  I  have  felt  recently  more  justi- 
fied in  it  by  Mr.  Ruskin's  preface  to  u  The  Story  of 
Ida."  He  says:  "The  lives  we  need  to  have  written 
for  us  are  of  the  people  whom  the  world  has  not 
thought  of — far  less  heard  of — who  are  yet  doing  most 


32  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

of  its  work,  and  of  whom  we  may  learn  how  it  can 
best  be  done." 

It  is  a  trite  saying,  that  "  every  life  is  a  poem,  be  it 
long  or  short."  Mine  has  been  a  real  romance,  full 
of  incident,  anxiety,  hope,  and  care;  some  disappoint- 
ments, and  many  successes,  with  much  sickness  and 
sorrow ;  but  it  has  also  been  full  of  joy,  contentment, 
and  real  happiness. 

I  was  born  in  Lancaster  County,  South  Carolina, 
the_25th  of  January,  1813,  about  ten  miles  south  of 
the  village  of  Lancaster,  and  a  mile  or  more  west  of 
the  old  wagon-road  from  Lancaster  to  Camden.  The 
ancestors  of  my  father,  John  Sims,  were  of  the  Eng- 
lish colonists  of  Virginia.  My  mother,  Mahala  Mackey, 
was  the  daughter  of  Charles  and  Lydia  Mackey,  of 
Scotch-Irish  origin.  The  family  came  to  America  about 
1740.  My  paternal  great-grandfather,  Sherrod  Sims,  was 
born  in  Yirginia,  1730.  I  remember  the  date  well,  be- 
cause he  told  me  he  was  at  Braddock's  defeat  (1755), 
and  that  he  was  then  twenty-five  years  old.  He  served 
through  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  afterward  removed 
from  Yirginia  with  his  family  to  the  Beaver  Creek 
neighborhood,  in  the  southern  part  of  Lancaster  County, 
South  Carolina.  When  I  was  ten  or  eleven  years  old, 
he  showed  me  a  document  with  Washington's  name 
signed  to  it ;  but  I  did  not  have  sense  enough  to  ap- 
preciate it,  or  care  to  know  what  it  was.  He  was  a 
tall,  raw-boned,  splendid  old  man,  six  feet  high,  when 
I  saw  him  last,  in  1824.     He  died  of  old  age  in  1825, 


MY  FATHER'S  FAMILY.  33 

at  the  age  of  ninety -five,  having  survived  his  wife 
twenty-five  years.  He  had  five  or  six  sons  and  two 
daughters. 

Unfortunately,  I  never  knew  much  of  my  father': 
family.  He  was  an  orphan,  brought  up  to  "  rough 
it,"  working  on  the  farm  with  the  negroes,  and  he  was 
the  best  worker  among  them.  He  never  had  much 
love  for  any  of  his  uncles  when  he  was  a  boy,  for 
they  were  rather  hard  on  him.  So,  when  he  was 
grown,  and  became  the  father  of  a  family,  he  saw 
them  but  seldom,  but  always  treated  them  well  when 
any  of  them  came  to  see  him.  I  never  saw  but  two 
of  his  uncles  at  his  house,  and  that  was  after  he  was 
elected  high  sheriff,  and  came  to  be  a  power  in  the 
county. 

My  father's  family  were  all  long-lived.  Sherrod 
Sims,  my  great-grandfather,  as  before  stated,  lived  to 
be  ninety-five.  His  sons,  Sherrod,  Stephen,  Ashburn, 
and  the  others,  all  lived  to  very  old  age. 

They  were  all  tillers  of  the  soil.  My  father  was 
born  27th  of  December,  1790.  He  was  married  to 
Mahala  Mackey,  19th  of  April,  1812.  He  never  had  a 
day's  schooling  till  I  was  six  months  old. 

He  was  therefore  over  twenty-three  when  he  went 
to  school  six  months  to  Dr.  Garlick,  who  lived  at  Lib- 
erty Hill;  and  he  became  an  accomplished  account- 
ant and  book-keeper,  and  wrote  a  beautiful  hand.  He 
was  tall,  over  six  feet,  well  proportioned,  and  was  con- 
sidered a  very  handsome  man.     He  was  one  of  the  best 


&f.  THE  STORY  OF  3£Y  LITE. 

of  men.  and  best  of  husbands.  I  do  not  remember  ever 
to  have  heard  an  unpleasant  word  between  my  father 
and  mother.  He  was  always  poor,  bnt  always  lived 
welL  Being  a  public  man,  and  well  known  from  one 
end  of  the  county  to  the  other,  he  was  obliged 
te  treat/5  as  was  the  habit  of  the  country,  to  get  votes, 
but  he  never  drank  himself.  He  kept  the  village  hotel 
in  Lancaster  for  several  years,  and  was  sheriff  for  four 
years  (1S30-18M),  which  gave  Mm  occnpation  and  a 
living.  He  was  also  a  surveyor,  and  his  services  were 
in  great  demand  in  all  cases  of  disputed  land-titles. 

When  the  war  with  the  mother  country  broke  out, 
in  1812,  he  volunteered,  and  his  company,  commanded 
by  Captain  Douglass,  was  ordered  to  Charleston,  where 
it  was  encamped  at  HaddrelTs  Point,  in  Charleston  Har- 
bor. He  went  as  subaltern,  and  became  so  proficient 
a  disciplinarian  that  he  rose  to  the  command  of  his 
company.  Soon  after  returning  home  he  organized  a 
volunteer  corps  of  rifles.  It  was  a  splendidly  drilled 
company.  Kennedy  Bailey  was  drummer,  and  Munson 
and  Andrews  nfers.  The  uniform  of  the  company  was 
grey  home-spun  jeans,  made  in  the  hunting-shirt  fashion. 
It  was  literally  home-spun,  for  it  was  made  at  home. 
Every  industrious  housewife  at  that  time  had  her  own 
spinning-wheel  and  loom.  Mj  mother,  in  early  life, 
spun  and  wove  the  clothing  for  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren. I  never  was  so  proud  in  all  my  life  as  when, 
a  little  boy,  I  marched  with  u  Captain  Jack  Sims,"  as 
they  called  him,  at  ihe  head  of  his  Hnnting-Shirt  Rifles. 


MY  FATHER   AS  A  SPORTSMAN.  35 

Colonel  Witherspoon  was  then  colonel  of  the  Lancas- 
ter regiment  of  militia,  and  my  father  was  his  adju- 
tant. When  Colonel  Witherspoon  resigned,  my  father 
succeeded  him  as  colonel  of  the  regiment;  and  Gov- 
ernor Miller  and  Governor  Manning,  at  their  annual 
reviews,  in  making  little  speeches  to  the  regiment,  al- 
ways told  them  that  they  were  the  best-drilled  regi- 
ment, and  that  they  had  the  best  drill-officer,  in  their 
colonel,  that  could  be  found  in  the  state ;  and  the  Lan- 
caster people  believed  it. 

But  this  was  before  the  days  of  railroads,  telegraphs 
and  newspaper  reporters,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that 
governors  always  made  the  same  stereotyped,  laudatory 
speech  at  every  review  they  held  throughout  the  state. 

My  father  was  a  great  marksman.  At  the  age  of 
seventy,  with  gun  and  dog,  he  would  bag  as  many  quail 
as  the  youngest  shot  in  the  country ;  and  with  his  rifle 
he  could  drop  his  deer,  running,  at  a  distance  of  one 
hundred  yards.  In  his  early  life  he  was  a  great  fox- 
hunter.  He  kept  a  pack  of  hounds  of  his  own,  and 
about  the  year  1827  he  laid  a  wager  of  a  hat  with  one 
of  his  fox-hunting  friends,  Colonel  Patterson,  of  Liberty 
Hill,  on  the  fox-hunting  of  one  season,  which  I  believe 
is  from  October  to  March.  Colonel  Patterson  caught 
twenty  and  my  father  fifty-two  and  won  the  hai  But 
he  came  near  losing  his  life ;  for,  at  the  end  of  this 
dreadful  winter's  exposure  in  hunting,  he  got  an  attack 
of  pneumonia,  from  which  he  barely  recovered.  His 
physician,  Dr.  Bartlett  Jones,  at  once  advised  him  to  give 


36  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

up  his  hounds,  and  he  did  so,  greatly  to  the  happiness 
of  my  poor  mother.  But  he  never  relinquished  the 
quail  and  deer  hunt,  to  which  she  had  no  objection. 

.  He  had  another  sporting  habit,  which  I  had  al- 
most forgotten,  cock-fighting.  At  that  time  cock-fight- 
ing was  not  in  the  hands  of  the  roughs  as  it  is  now. 
Only  the  rich  and^  cultured  bred  cocks  for  fighting, 
and,  like  fox-hunting,  it  was  an  expensive  sport.  The 
great  cock-fighters  of  the  country  were  the  Davies,  and 
Greens  of  Chester,  Sims  of  Lancaster,  Dr.  Greene  and 
Myers  of  Columbia,  and  some  other  gentlemen  in 
Union  County,  and  the  Joneses  and  Aliens  of  Halifax, 
North  Carolina.  These  gentlemen  were  all  of  purely 
English  descent,  and  inherited  this  vicious  sport  from 
their  English  ancestors.  Gentlemen  now  no  longer  in- 
dulge in  it.  It  is  in  the  hands  of  the  uncultured  and 
low  and  vulgar.  I  can  imagine  nothing  more  inhuman, 
cruel,  and  brutal,  than  the  cock-pit  and  its  deadly  con- 
flicts. 

The t  only  real  cause  of  unhappiness  my  mother  ever 
had  was  the  time  wasted  by  my  father  in  fox-hunting 
and  billiard-playing.  He  excelled  in  billiards,  and  my 
mother  instilled  into  me  such  hatred  for  my  father's 
three  great  follies  of  life,  that  I  have  never  seen  a  fox- 
hunt, nor  played  a  game  of  billiards,  nor  bet  on  a  cock- 
fight. In  1838  my  father  moved  to  Mississippi,  where 
he  tried  farming,  but  did  not  succeed  very  well.  In 
1853,  he  moved  to  New  Waverly,  "Walker  County, 
Texas,  where  he  lived  with   his  eldest  daughter,  Mrs. 


MY  FATHER'S  LAST  DAYS.  37 

John  C.  Abercrombie.  His  last  days  were  spent  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Abercrombie,  in  the  midst  of  his  children 
and  grandchildren,  beloved  and  honored  by  all  who 
knew  him.  He  was  always  a  young  man — never  old. 
The  young  men  of  the  country  were  his  associates,  and 
he  always  exercised  &  great  and  beneficent  influence 
over  young  people. 

He  was  a  high  mason ;  was  master  of  the  lodge  in 
Lancaster,  and  lived  up  to  the  stern  principles  of  the 
craft.  He  believed  that  a  good  mason  was  good  enough 
for  heaven.  In  his  old  days  he  joined  the  'Methodist 
Church  and  became  an  exemplary  Christian.  (He  was 
always  one  before  he  joined  the  church.)  But  he  never 
deserted  his  masonic  faith  and  works. 

There  is  now  a  masonic  lodge  in  New  Waverly, 
Texas,  named  in  his  honor,  the  "  John  Sims  Lodge." 

~No  man  ever  had  warmer  friends,  and  he  was  loved 
and  honored  wherever  he  lived.  He  had  a  military 
bearing,  with  courtly  manners,  was  generous  to  a  f  a.ult, 
and  kind  to  every  one.  He  did  not  get  rich  when  he 
was  high  sheriff,  simply  because  in  the  kindness  of  his 
heart  he  assumed  so  many  of  the  responsibilities  be- 
longing to  his  office  which  he  was  obliged  to  pay  in 
the  end. 

No  man  lives  as  long  as  he  should;  the  most  of  us 
die  prematurely,  even  when  we  die  in  old  age,  because 
we  violate  some  law  of  hygiene,  or  perpetrate  some  im- 
prudent act  that  lays  the  foundation  ef  disease  which 
often   terminates   in   death.      The   great    philanthropist  ^ 


38  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

Peter  Cooper  died  at  the  age  of  ninety-three,  bnt  died 
prematurely,  because  he  imprudently  exposed  himself, 
took  cold,  and  got  pneumonia,  which  he  would  not  have 
had  if  he  had  taken  ordinary  care  of  himself.  He  ought 
to  have  lived  to  be  one  hundred  or  more.  So  with  the 
distinguished  surgeon  James  R.  Wood,  and  many  others 
whom  I  could  mention.  I  have  come  near  throwing 
away  my  own  life  several  times,  by  imprudent  exposures 
and  unnecessary  risks.  Even  the  centenarian  Captain 
Labouche,  who  died  a  few  years  ago  in  Xew  York  at 
the  age  of  one  hundred  and  eleven,  died  prematurely, 
because  his  life  was  sacrificed  by  an  imprudent  exposure, 
which  at  the  time  was  wholly  unnecessary,  and  by  which 
he  got  cold  and  had  pneumonia.  I  say  that  my  father 
died  prematurely  at  seventy-eight,  because  he  did  what 
had  been  better  left  undone.  In  the  month  of  July, 
1867,  he  rode  through  a  hot  sun  a  distance  of  fifteen 
miles.  After  transacting  his  business  he  immediately 
returned  home,  making  thirty  miles  in  the  saddle,  and 
all  this  was  done  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  He  stripped 
and  stabled  his  horse,  and  then  got  his  axe  and  went  to 
cutting  wood.  There  was  not  the  least  need  of  his  doing 
this  ;  but  he  believed  that  every  man  should  take  so  much 
strong  exercise  every  day  to  insure  good  health.  He 
was  a  great  axeman,  and  delighted  to  display  his  skill 
with  it  to  his  grandchildren.  After  cutting  away  hard 
for  a  whole  hour,  he  suddenly  stepped  back,  dropped 
his  axe,  and  looked  around.  His  grandson,  seeing  that 
something  was  wrong,  ran  up  to  him,  saying,  "  Grand- 


MY  FATHERS  DEATH.  39 

father,  what  is  the  matter  ?  You  are  sick ;  come,  go 
into  the  house  with  me."  This  was  about  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  distant.  "When  he  got  there,  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Abererombie,  says  he  was  paralyzed,  and  incurably  so, 
aphasia  having  set  in  from  the  very  beginning.  He 
lived  a  year,  but  very  miserably,  for  he  could  not  write, 
nor  co-ordinate  his  words  so  as  to  make  himself  under- 
stood. The  rationale  of  the  attack  is  this:  He  was 
already  overheated  and  fatigued  by  his  thirty  mile  ride 
in  the  hot  sun,  and  the  violent  chopping  overtaxed  the 
heart  and  lungs,  and  threw  the  blood  too  forcibly  to  the 
brain.  A  blood-vessel  gave  way  in  the  left  side  of  the 
brain,  front  part;  he  was  paralyzed  on  the  right  side, 
the. blood  was  extravasated  and  formed  a  clot,  which 
produced,  mechanically,  all  the  symptoms  of  apoplexy  and 
paralysis,  with  aphasia.  And  as  all  this  occurred  as  the 
result  of  an  imprudent  and  unnecessary  act,  I  am  justified 
in  saying  that  my  father  died  prematurely  at  the  age  of 
seventy-eight ;  for  I  am  sure  that  without  this  he  would 
have  lived  to  be  ninety-five,  as  his  grandfather  did  be- 
fore him.  He  had  never  lost  a  tooth,  and  was  in  perfect 
health;  straight,  erect,  active,  with  every  organ  and 
function  in  normal  condition.  Even  the  strongest  lose 
their  lives  by  imprudent  acts,  while  the  weak  and  feeble, 
compelled  to  take  care  of  their  health,  often  live  to  ripe 
old  age. 

Charles  and  Lydia  Mackey  had  nine  children.  My 
mother,  Mahala,  was  the  youngest.  She  was  born  on 
the   2d    of    May,    1792,   being   about   eighteen   months 


40  THE  STOET  OF  MY  LITE. 

younger  than  my  father.  She  was  a  bright,  pretty  girl, 
with  black  eyes,  fair  skin,  and  red  hair.  I  remember 
her  as  a  handsome,  middle-sized  woman,  with  rich,  au- 
burn  hair.  She  was  the  best  of  wives,  the  best  of 
mothers,  and  the  most  nntiring  worker  I  ever  knew. 
She  was  indeed  a  helpmeet  for  her  husband.  She  spun 
and  wove  the  cloth,  and  cut  and  made  the  clothes  com- 
monly used  at  home,  and  did  all  her  own  housework 
in  her  early  life.  My  father  farmed  it  and  kept  a  little 
country  -  store,  and  after  a  while  got  a  few  slaves, 
enough  to  take  some  of  the  hardest  work  off  my  mother's 
hands.  He  then  moved  from  the  Hanging-Rock  Creek 
neighborhood,  in  1S24,  to  Lancaster  village.  Here  he 
entered  on  a  new  phase  of  life.  He  kept  the  village 
tavern.  It  had  nice  accommodation  for  travelers,  was  a 
bachelors'  boarding-house,  and  headquarters  of  lawyers 
during  court,  which  was  held  twice  a  year.  My  mother 
kept  the  house  well,  and  my  father  prospered,  notwith- 
standing his  hounds  and  billiards. 

"When  my  mother  was  about  ten  years  old  she  was 
sent  to  school  to  Mr.  Elijah  Croxton.  This  was  in  1S02. 
The  schoolhouse  was  in  the  pine  woods,  two  miles  from 
her  father's  house.  It  was  a  log  cabin  about  twenty  by 
twenty-five  feet — made  of  pine  logs  six  or  eight  inches 
in  diameter.  There  was  a  window  about  two  feet  square 
at  one  end  of  the  cabin,  and  but  one  door.  That  was 
on  the  side  of  the  house  looking  east.  On  the  opposite 
side  one  log,  about  three  feet  from  the  floor,  had  been 
cut  out  to  admit  light.     This  made  a  longitudinal  open- 


MY  MOTHER'S  SCHOOL-DAYS.  41 

ing  twenty-two  or  twenty-three  feet  long  and  a  foot 
wide.  Just  under  this  long  opening  there  was  a  broad 
plank,  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  wide,  smoothly  dressed, 
extending  the  length  of  the  open  window,  securely  fast- 
ened to  the  wall,  and  sustained  by  upright  posts  at  each 
end  of  the  plank  and  in  the  center.  It  made  an  ad- 
mirable writing-table.  Here  the  advanced  boys  and 
girls,  who  were  studying  arithmetic  and  writing,  sat  with 
their  backs  toward  the  teacher — whose  seat  was  just  at 
the  right  of  the  door  as  you  entered — while  the  smaller 
children,  learning  to  spell  and  read,  sat  at  either  end  of 
the  cabin  with  their  faces  toward  the  teacher.  The 
chinks  or  open  spaces  between  the  pine  logs  were  cov- 
ered with  boards  nailed  on  outside. 

It  was  summer  time.  The  students  of  arithmetic 
were  permitted  to  go  out  and  sit  in  the  shade  of  the 
house,  or  under  the  trees,  till  they  had  worked  out  the 
sums  allotted  to  them  by  the  master.  When  this  was 
done  the  pupils  would  come  in,  and  the  teacher  would 
look  over  the  slate,  and,  if  the  work  was  satisfactory,  he 
ordered  the  pupil  to  transfer  the  sums  from  slate  to 
copy-book.  Mahala  Mackey,  on  a  hot,  sweltering  day, 
about  11  o'clock,  came  in  with  slate  in  hand.  Mr. 
Croxton  looked  it  over,  and  said  "all  right,"  and  she 
took  her  seat  about  the  middle  of  the  long  writing- 
table,  with  her  back  to  the  teacher,  and  began  to  copy 
her  sums.  The  school  was  unusually  quiet.  It  was  the 
happy  season  of  flies  and  bees  and  butterflies  and  toads 
and  lizards  and  reptiles  of  that  hot  climate.     A  green 


42  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

lizard,  or  chameleon,  which  is  green  or  brown  as  occa- 
sion requires,  had  been  for  an  honr  running  around  in 
the  open  spaces  between  the  logs  ;  the  logs  had  not  been 
peeled,  and  the  lizard's  rapid  running  over  the  dry  pine 
bark  made  a  great  noise.  The  antics  of  the  cunning 
little  lizard  amused  the  little  boys  very  much,  and  dis- 
tracted their  attention  from  their  books.  They  could 
not  refrain  from  giggling,  and  the  teacher  called  up  two 
or  three  of  the  principal  ones  and  flogged  them.  Soon 
after  Mahala  Mackey  had  settled  down  to  her  copy-book 
the  impudent  little  lizard  came  rattling  along  the  open 
space  in  front  of  her  seat,  and  she,  not  knowing  any- 
thing of  what  had  happened  that  morning,  grabbed  and 
canght  it  by  the  tip  of  the  tail,  and,  with  a  shriek,  gave 
it  a  sling  backward.  Looking  around,  frightened  at 
what  she  had  done  so  automatically  and  undesignedly, 
what  was  her  amazement  when  she  saw  the  lizard  hang- 
ing to  the  end  of  the  teacher's  nose,  while  he  was  knock- 
ing away,  and  crying  out  with  pain  at  his  fruitless  efforts 
to  tear  it  loose  from  its  firm  hold.  It  had  caught  him 
by  the  projecting  end  of  the  septum,  which  separates  the 
two  nostrils,  and  its  teeth  had  gone  through  and  locked. 
While  Mr.  Croxton  was  floundering  and  knocking  away 
at  the  lizard,  the  frightened  little  red-headed  Mahala 
shot  out  of  the  door,  by  the  side  of  the  teacher,  and  took 
to  her  heels,  and  ran  bare-headed  to  her  home,  with 
greyhound  speed. 

The  next   day  her  father  went  to  see  her  teacher 
about  the  unfortunate  occurrence  of  the  previous  day. 


MY  MOTHER'S  DEATH.  43 

Mr.  Croxton's  nose  was  very  red  and  swollen,  and  lie 
seemed  to  look  upon  the  affair  as  a  personal  indignity ; 
and,  strange  to  say,  lie  refused  to  allow  Mahala  to  return 
to  the  school  unless  her  father  would  consent  to  his  flog- 
ging her.  Of  course  Charles  Mackey  was  indignant, 
and  refused  to  have  his  child  punished  for  that  which 
was  so  purely  accidental ;  and  she  never  went  to  school 
to  Mr.  Croxton  again. 

Indeed,  it  was  with  some  trouble  that  the  fiery 
Charley  Mackey  was  prevented  from  thrashing  the 
teacher.  It  is  a  common  saying,  "  that  whatever  has 
happened  once  can  happen  again "  ;  but  I  hardly  think 
it  possible  that  another  little  school-girl  will  ever  again 
toss  a  lizard  so  as  to  catch  a  school-master  by  the  nasal 
septum. 

My  mother  died  at  the  age  of  forty,  of  common 
bilious  remittent  fever  —  a  disease  that  is  cured  now 
with  the  greatest  facility,  but  at  that  time  was  attended 
with  great  mortality,  because  they  were  ignorant  of  the 
method  of  cure. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

Lydia  Mackey  and  Colonel  Tarleton — An  episode  of  the  Revolutionary  "War. 

In  1781  South  Carolina  was  completely  overrun 
by  the  British.  Lord  Cornwallis  held  quiet  possession 
of  Charleston ;  had  defeated  Gates  and  De  Kalb  at 
Camden,  driven  Marion  to  the  swamps  of  the  Pedee, 
scattered  the  forces  of  Sumter,  and  established  his 
headquarters  in  the  Waxhaws,  on  the  borders  of 
Xorth  Carolina,  while  Tarleton  had  his  on  the  Hang- 
ing-Rock Creek,  about  thirty  miles  north  of  Camden. 
Davie  alone  was  left  with  a  small  force  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Catawba,  making  occasional  sorties  to 
harass  the  outposts  of  the  British. 

The  Scotch,  Irish,  and  Huguenots  of  South  Carolina 
were  mostly  Whigs  or  rebels.  The  English  colonists 
were  divided;  the  majority  were  Whigs,  but  there 
were  a  goodly  number  of  loyal  men  among  them, 
who  conscientiously  espoused  the  cause  of  the  mother 
country,  and  were  called  Tories.  Lancaster  County 
was  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the  Whigs.  The 
McElwains,  Truesdales,  Douglasses,  Cunninghams,  Mc- 
Mullens,  McDonalds,   Mackeys,   and    others   of   Scotch- 


AN  EPISODE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION".  45 

Irish  origin,  occupied  and  held  the  southern  portion 
of  Lancaster,  and  Charles  Mackey  was  their  acknowl- 
edged leader;  while  the  Crawfords,  Dunlaps,  Jacksons 
(Gen.  Jackson  was  then  sixteen  years  old),  Whites, 
Masseys,  Dobys,  Curetons,  and  others  of  the  same  stock 
held  the  Waxhaws,  in  the  northern  section  of  the 
county.  The  Whigs  had  always  made  Lancaster  too 
hot  for  the  Tories,  and  had  ruthlessly  driven  them 
out  of  the  county,  to  seek  companionship  and  sym- 
pathy wherever  they  might  find  it. 

But  the  advent  of  the  British  turned  the  tide  of 
war  completely,  and  now  the  Tories,  with  Tarleton 
at  their  head,  had  driven  the  Whigs  from  Lancaster, 
some  across  the  Catawba,  to  join  Davie,  and  some  to 
the  Pedee,  to  join  Marion. 

Charles  Mackey,  as  the  leader  of  his  band,  had 
made  himself  very  obnoxious  to  the  Tories,  and  they 
impatiently  waited  the  time  for  vengeance.  He  was 
a  man  of  medium  size,  very  active  and  energetic,  a 
fine  horseman,  splendid  shot,  hot-headed,  impulsive,  oft- 
en running  unnecessary  risks  and  doing  dare-devil 
deeds.  No  work  was  too  hazardous  for  him.  Lydia 
Mackey,  his  wife,  was  a  woman  of  good  common  sense, 
with  clear  head,  fine  judgment,  and  in  her  coolness 
and  self-possession  far  superior  to  her  impulsive  hus- 
band. They  had  a  young  family  of  two  or  three  chil- 
dren, and  Charles  Mackey  had  not  seen  or  heard  from 
them  in  several  weeks.  Their  home  was  not  more 
than  two  and   a  half  miles  from  Tarleton's  camp,  on 


4:6  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

the  Hanging-Rock  Creek.  He  knew  very  well  that  it 
would  be  hazardous  for  him  to  return  to  his  home,  so 
near  to  Tarleton's  headquarters ;  but  his  anxiety  became 
so  great,  on  account  of  his  wife's  peculiar  condition,  that 
he  could  no  longer  remain  in  doubt  about  it ;  so  he 
cautiously  made  his  way  home,  where  he  unwisely 
loitered  for  a  week,  and  during  this  time  he  had  the 
temerity  to  enter  Tarleton's  lines  more  than  once,  in 
search  of  information  which  would  be  valuable  to  his 
country's  defenders. 

Charles  Mackey's  house  was  a  double  log  cabin, 
with  cultivated  patches  of  corn  and  potatoes  on  either 
side  of  a  lane  leading  to  the  front,  while  at  the  rear 
was  a  kitchen-garden  of  half  an  acre  or  more,  extend- 
ing back  to  a  large  huckleberry  swamp,  which  was 
almost  impenetrable  to  man  or  beast.  This  swamp 
covered  an  area  of  ten  or  fifteen  acres,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  quagmire  from  ten  to  thirty  feet  wide, 
thus  making  it  practically  an  island.  It  was  entered 
by  jumping  from  tussock  to  tussock  of  moss-covered 
clumps  of  mold,  a  foot  or  two  in  diamater  and  rising 
six  or  eight  inches  above  the  black  jelly-like  mire, 
which  shook  in  every  direction  in  passing  over  it.  A 
plank  or  fence  rail  served  as  a  temporary  draw-bridge, 
which  was  pulled  into  the  swamp  after  passing  over. 

When  the  county  was  infested  by  Tories,  Charles 
Mackey  spent  his  days  in  the  swamp  if  not  out  scout- 
ing. At  night,  he  ventured  home.  He  had  good 
watch-dogs,  and   they   gave   the    alarm    whenever   any 


AN  EPISODE  OF  THE  KEVOLUTION.  47 

one  approached,  whether  by  night  or  day.  If  at  night, 
he  would  immediately  lift  a  loose  plank  in  the  floor 
of  his  bedroom,  drop  through  on  the  ground,  crawl 
out  into  the  rear,  then  run  thirty  or  forty  yards  across 
the  garden,  gun  in  hand,  and  disappear  in  the  swamp, 
pulling  his  fence-rail  draw-bridge  after  him.  There 
was  no  approach  to  the  house  in  the  rear,  and  his 
retreat  was  always  effected  with  impunity. 

Charles  Mackey  had  been  at  home  now  about  a 
week,  and  was  on  the  eve  of  leaving  with  some  valu- 
able information  for  the  rebel  generals,  gained  by  his 
night  prowliugs  in  and  about  the  headquarters  of 
Colonel  Tarleton.  But  early  in  a  June  morning  (an 
hour  or  two  before  day),  his  usually  faithful  watch-dogs 
failed  to  give  warning  of  the  approach  of  strangers, 
and  the  first  notice  of  their  presence  was  their  shout- 
ing "  Hallo ! "  in  front  of  the  house.  Mrs.  Mackey 
jumped  out  of  bed,  threw  open  the  window-shutters, 
stuck  out  her  head,  surveyed  the  half-dozen  armed 
horseman  carefully,  and  said,  "  Who  is  there  ? " 

"  Friends — Is  Charley  Mackey  at  home  1 " 

She  promptly  answered  "No."  Meantime,  Charlie 
had  raised  the  loose  plank  in  the  floor,  and  was  ready 
to  make  for  the  swamp  in  the  rear  wThen,  stopping  for 
a  moment  to  make  sure  of  the  character  of  his  visit- 
ors, he  heard  the  spokesman  say : 

"Well,  we  are  very  sorry  indeed,  for  there  was  a 
big  fight  yesterday  on  Lynch's  Creek,  between  Gen- 
eral Marion  and  the  British,  and   we   routed   the  d — d 


4S  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE, 

redcoats  completely,  and  we  have  been  sent  to  General 
Davie,  at  Landsford,  with  orders  to  unite  with  Marion 
at  Flat  Rock  as  soon  as  possible,  and  then  to  attack 
Tarleton.  TVe  do  not  know  the  way  to  Landsford, 
and  came  by  for  Charlie  to  pilot  us."  Mrs.  Mackey 
was  always  cool  and  collected,  and  she  said  that  "  she 
was  sorry  that  her  husband  was  not  at  home." 

But  her  husband  was  just  the  reverse,  hot-headed 
and  impetuous.  This  sudden  news  of  victory,  after  so 
many  reverses,  was  so  in  accordance  with  his  wishes 
that  he  madly  rushed  out  into  the  midst  of  the  mount- 
ed men,  hurrahing  for  Marion  and  Davie,  and  shouting 
vengeance  on  the  redcoats  and  Tories ;  and  he  began  to 
shake  hands  enthusiastically  with  the  boys,  and  to  ask 
particulars  about  the  fight,  when  the  ring-leader  of  the 
gang  coolly  said : 

"  ^Tell,  Charlie,  old  fellow,  we  have  set  a  good 
many  traps  for  you,  but  never  baited  'em  right  till 
now.  You  are  our  prisoner."  And  they  marched  him 
off  just  as  he  was,  without  hat  or  coat,  and  without 
allowing  him  a  moment  to  say  a  parting  word  to  his 
poor  wife.  It  was  now  nearly  daylight,  and  they  or- 
dered him  to  pilot  them  to  Andy  McElwain's,  with 
the  hope  of  capturing  him  too;  but  he  was  not  at 
home.  They  then  went  to  James  Truesdale's  and  he 
was  not  at  home.  From  there  they  went  to  Lancaster 
village,  and  then  returned  to  Colonel  Tarleton's  head- 
quarters, where  Charles  Mackey  was  tried  by  court- 
martial,  and  sentenced  to  death  as  a  spy. 


AN  EPISODE   OF  THE  REVOLUTION".  49 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Mackey,  not  knowing  what  had 
happened,  gathered  some  fruits  and  eggs,  and  with  a 
basket  well  filled  she  made  her  way  to  Colonel  Tarle- 
ton's  camp.  Hucksters  were  readily  admitted  when 
they  had  such  luxuries  to  dispose  of.  On  getting  within 
the  lines,  she  inquired  the  way  to  Colonel  Tarleton's 
marquee,  which  was  shown  to  her.  The  colonel  was 
on  parade,  but  a  young  officer,  who  was  writing,  asked 
her  to  be  seated.     After  he  had  finished  he  said  : 

"  You  have  something  for  sale,  I  presume  ? " 

She  replied  that  she  had  fruit  and  eggs.  He  gladly 
took  what  she  had  and  paid  for  them.  She  then  said 
that  her  basket  of  fruit  was  only  a  pretext  to  get  to 
Colonel  Tarleton's  headquarters.  That  she  was  anxious 
to  pee  him  in  person,  on  business  of  great  importance. 
She  then  explained  to  him  the  capture  of  her  husband 
and  that  she  wished  to  get  him  released,  if  he  were 
still  alive,  though  she  didn't  know  but  what  they  had 
hung  him  to  the  first  tree  they  came  to. 

The  officer  told  her  that  the  colonel  was  on  parade 
and  would  not  return  for  two  hours,  or  until  he  came 
in  for  his  mid-day  meal.  Mrs.  Mackey  was  a  comely 
woman,  of  superior  intelligence,  and  she  soon  inter- 
ested the  young  officer  in  her  sad  condition.  He  ex- 
pressed for  her  the  deepest  sympathy,  and  told  her 
that  her  husband  was  near  by,  under  guard ;  that  he 
had  been  tried  and  sentenced  to  death  as  a  spy ;  and 
that  he  feared  there  was  no  hope  of  a  reprieve,  as 
the  evidence   against  him,  by  Tories,  was  of  the  most 


.!•;>  THE    ST03Y      J  MY  LIFE. 

positive  kind.  He  told  her  that  Colonel  Tarleton 
was  as  emel  and  unfeeling  as  he  was  brave,  and  that 
he  would  promise  her  anything  to  get  rid  of  her,  bnt 
would  fulfill  nothing.  "  However,"  said  he,  a  I  will  pre- 
pare the  necessary  document  for  your  husband's  release, 
tiling  in  the  blanks,  so  that  it  will  only  be  necessary 
to  get  Colonel  1  relet  en's  signature.  But  I  must  again 
Bay,  frankly,  that  this  is  almost  hopeless.'' 

It  was  evident  to  the  most  superficial  observer 
that  Mrs.  Mac-key  would  soon  become  a  mother,  and 
this,  probably,  had  something  to  do  with  enlisting  the 
sympathy  of  the  kind  young  officer.  At  12  o'c 
Colonel  Tirleton  rode  up.  dismounted,  and  entered  the 
adjoining  tent.  As  he  passed  along,  the  young  offi- 
cer said :  "  You  must  wait  till  he  dines.  Another 
charger  will  then  be  brought,  and  when  he  comes  up  to 
mount  you  can  approach  him,  and  not  till  then." 

At  the  expected  time,  the  tall,  boyish-looking,  clean- 
shaved,  handsome  young  Tarleton  came  out  of  his  tent ; 
and  as  he  neared  his  charger  he  was  confronted  by 
the  heroic  Lvdia  Mackev.  who  in  a  few  words  made 
known  the  object  of  her  visit.  He  quickly  answered 
that  he  was  in  a  great  hurry,  and  could  not  at  that  time 
stop  to  consider  her  cause.  She  said  the  cause  was 
urgent ;  that  her  husband  had  been  condemned  to  death 
and  that  he  alone  had  the  power  U  ;  we  his  life.  He 
replied : 

"  Verv  welh  mv  good  woman  :  when  I  return,  latex 
in  the  day,  I  will  inquire  into  the  matter." 


AN  EPISODE   OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  51 

Saying  this,  he  placed  his  foot  in  the  stirrup  and 
sprang  up ;  but,  before  he  could  throw  his  right  leg 
over  the  saddle,  Mrs.  Mackey  caught  him  by  the 
coat  and  jerked  him  down.  He  turned  upon  her  with 
a  scowl,  as  she  implored  him  to  grant  her  request. 
He  was  greatly  discomfited  and  angrily  said  he  would 
inquire  into  the  case  on  his  return.  He  then  attempted 
again  to  mount,  when  she  dragged  him  down  the  sec- 
ond time,  begging  him  in  eloquent  terms  to  spare  the 
life  of  her  husband. 

"  Hut,  tut,  my  good  woman,"  said  he,  boiling  with 
rage,  "do  you  know  what  you  are  doing?  Begone,  I 
say,  I  will  attend  to  this  matter  at  my  convenience  and 
not  sooner !  " 

So  saying,  he  attempted  the  third  time  to  mount,  and 
the  third  time  Lydia  Mackey  jerked  him  to  the  ground. 
Holding  by  the  sword's  scabbard,  and  falling  on  her 
knees,  she  cried : 

"  Draw  your  sword  and  slay  me  and  my  unborn  babe, 
or  give  me  the  life  of  my  husband,  for  I  will  never  let 
you  go  till  you  kill  me  or  sign  this  document,"  which 
she  drew  from  her  bosom  and  held  up  before  his  face. 

Tarleton  trembled  with  rage,  and  was  as  pale  as  a 
ghost.  He  turned  to  the  young  officer,  who  stood  close 
by  intently  watching  the  scene,  and  said: 

"  Captain,  where  is  this  woman's  husband  ?  " 

He  answered,  "  Under  guard,  in  yonder  tent." 

"  Order  him  to  be  brought  here,"  and  soon  Charles 
Mackey  stood  before  the  valiant  Tarleton.     "  Sir,"  said 


52  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

he,  "you  have  been  convicted  of  bearing  arms  against 
his  majesty's  government.  Worse,  you  have  been  con- 
victed of  being  a  spy.  You  have  dared  to  enter  my 
lines  in  disguise,  as  a  spy,  and  you  can  not  deny  it.  But, 
for  the  sake  of  your  wife,  I  will  give  you  a  full  pardon 
on  condition  that  you  will  take  an  oath  never  again  to 
bear  arms  against  the  king's  government." 

"  Sir,"  6aid  Charles  Mackey,  in  the  firmest  tones, 
"  I  can  not  accept  pardon  on  these  terms.  It  must  be 
unconditional,  or  I  must  die."  And  poor  Lydia  Mackey 
cried  out,  "I,  too,  must  die" — and  on  her  knees  held 
on  to  Colonel  Tarleton ;  and  she  pleaded  with  such  fervor 
and  eloquence  that  Tarleton  seemed  lost  for  a  moment, 
and  hesitated,  and  then,  turning  to  the  young  captain, 
he  said,  with  quivering  lips  and  a  voice  choking  with 
emotion : 

"  Captain,  for  God's  sake  sign  my  name  to  this  paper, 
and  let  this  woman  go." 

"With  this,  Lydia  Mackey  sank  to  the  ground  ex- 
hausted, and  Colonel  Tarleton  mounted  his  horse  and 
galloped  off,  doubtless  happier  for  having  spared  the 
life  of  heroic  Lydia  Mackey's  husband. 

Lydia  Mackey  in  her  old  age  was  a  fine  talker,  and 
when  I  was  a  boy  of  ten  years  old  I  have  heard  her  tell 
this  story  with  such  feeling  and  earnestness  that  great 
tears  rolled  down  her  aged  cheeks  and  mingled  with 
those  of  her  little  grandchildren,  huddled  around  her 
knees. 

The  name  of  Tarleton  was  execrated  in  South  Caro- 


AN  EPISODE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  53 

lina  until  a  very  late  period.  Even  fifty  years  after  his 
bloody  exploits  children  would  tremble  at  their  re- 
hearsal. But  the  Lydia  Mackey  episode  shows  that  he 
was  not  wholly  devoid  of  sentiment,  and  that  he  had  a 
heart  that  was  not  wholly  steeled  against  the  nobler 
feelings  of  humanity. 

The  history  of  our  Revolutionary  "War  can  hardly 
present  a  more  interesting  tableau  than  that  of  Lydia 
Mackey  begging  the  life  of  her  husband  at  the  hands  of 
the  brave  and  bloody  Tarleton.  It  is  altogether  proba- 
ble that  the  Lydia  Mackey  victory  was  the  first  ever 
gained  over  the  heart  of  this  redoubtable  commander; 
and  it  is  very  certain  that  Charles  Mackey  was  the  only 
condemned  prisoner  ever  liberated  by  him  without  tak- 
ing the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  mother  country.  This 
was  about  four  months  before  the  surrender  of  Lord 
Cornwallis  at  Yorktown. 


CHAPTER  III. 

My  early  school  experience  and  first  love — My  parents  remove  to  Lancas- 
ter— Founding  of  Franklin  Academy — My  first  lie — The  story  of  the 
crooked  pin. 

My  father,  feeling  the  want  of  an  education  himself, 
was  determined  to  educate  his  children,  and  so  he  began 
with  me  at  a  very  early  age.  He  then  had  a  little  store 
about  a  mile  north  of  the  Hanging-Rock  Creek,  on  the 
road  leading  to  Lancaster.  This  was  in  1818.  Mr. 
Blackburn,  a  Scotchman,  had  just  opened  a  school  in  an 
old  field,  very  near  the  ford  of  the  creek.  Mr.  Buck 
Caston  lived  a  mile  north  of  us,  and  his  children  were 
obliged  to  pass  our  door  to  get  to  Mr.  Blackburn's 
school.  His  eldest  daughter,  Betsey,  knowing  that  my 
father  was  anxious  to  have  me  go  to  school,  volunteered 
to  call  on  going  by  every  day  and  take  me  to  school 
with  them ;  promising  to  protect  me  against  all  dangers 
and  imposition  from  other  boys  in  the  school.  I  don't 
remember  much  about  it,  except  that  the  teacher  flogged 
the  boys  occasionally,  very  severely,  and  stood  some  of 
them  up  in  the  corner  with  a  fool's  cap  on.  I  here 
learned  my  letters,  and  to  spell  in  two  syllables  by  the 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  55 

end  of  the  term.     The  school  was  only  for  the  summer 
term. 

The  next  year,  1819,  when  I  was  six  years  old,  my 
father  sent  me  to  a  boarding-school,  some  six  or  eight 
miles  from  home.  The  teacher  here  was  an  Irishman, 
Mr.  Quigley,  a  man  about  fifty-five  years  old,  and  a 
rigid  disciplinarian ;  altogether  very  tyrannical,  and 
sometimes  cruel.  He  was  badly  pock-marked,  and 
had  lost  an  eye  by  small-pox — otherwise  a  handsome 
man.  1  was  very  unhappy  at  his  house,  lie  had  two 
grown  daughters ;  one  of  the  daughters  was  very  unkind 
to  me,  the  other  was  sympathetic.  But  my  impressions 
then  and  my  convictions  now  are  that  the  best  place  for 
a  child  under  ten  years  of  age  is  with  his  mother.  A 
very  curious  custom  prevailed  in  this  school,  which  was 
that  the  boy  who  arrived  earliest  in  the  morning  was 
at  the  head  of  his  class  during  the  day,  and  was  consid- 
ered the  first-honor  boy.  The  one  who  arrived  second 
took  the  second  place,  and  so  on.  There  was  great 
rivalry  among  some  half-dozen  of  the  most  ambitious  of 
the  boys.  James  Graham  was  about  ten  years  old.  He 
was  almost  always  first  in  the  morning.  Although  1  was 
so  very  young,  only  six,  I  occasionally  made  efforts  to 
get  there  earlier  than  he  did.  I  suppose  the  school- 
house  was  not  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  mile  from 
the  teacher's  residence,  where  I  boarded ;  but  it  seemed 
to  me,  at  the  time,  that  it  was  very  much  farther  than 
that.  However,  the  boy  that  got  ahead  of  James 
Graham  had  to  rise  very  early  in  the  morning.     I  re- 


56  THE  STORY  OE  MY  LIFE. 

member  getting  up  one  morning  long  before  daybreak. 
The  dread  of  my  young  life  was  mad  dogs  and  "  runa- 
way niggers."  I  started  off  "for  the  school-house  on  a 
trot,  an  hour  before  day,  looking  anxiously  from  side  to 
side,  and  before  and  behind,  fearing  all  the  time  those 
two  great  bugbears  of  my  young  life,  viz.,  mad  dogs 
and  runaway  niggers,  with  which  the  minds  of  the 
young  were  so  often  demoralized  by  negro  stories. 
When  I  arrived  at  the  school-house  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing very  severely.  It  was  in  the  autumn ;  the  acorns 
were  falling  on  the  clap-boards  covering  the  log-cabin, 
and  I  didn't  feel  very  comfortable,  and  was  most  anx- 
ious for  James  Graham  to  come.  At  last  he  arrived, 
greatly  to  my  relief.  This  was  my  first  and  last  first- 
honor  day.  I  was  content  after  this  to  resign  this  post 
to  James  Graham. 

This  teacher  had  one  remarkable  peculiarity  in  regard 
to  the  admission  of  small  boys  to  his  school.  It  made  no 
odds  whether  a  boy  was  good  or  bad,  he  invariably  got  a 
flogging  on  the  first  day.  The  teacher  always  sought 
some  pretext  to  make  a  flogging  necessary,  and  when  he 
began  he  seldom  stopped  until  the  youngster  vomited 
or  wet  his  breeches.  I  remember,  as  if  it  were  yester- 
day, when  a  little  boy,  James  Smith,  about  seven  years 
old,  came  with  his  two  older  brothers  to  school. 

He  did  not  come  as  a  pupil.  His  mother  wished  to 
go  to  a  camp-meeting  for  a  day  or  two,  and  sent  him  with 
his  brothers  to  school,  because  she  did  not  wish  to  leave 
him  at  home  alone  with  the  negroes.     He  was  a  pretty 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  57 

little  blue-eyed,  flaxen-haired  boy,  and  wore  a  red  Mo- 
rocco-leather Bumbalo  cap,  and  red  Morocco  shoes,  a 
checked  jacket,  and  nankeen  pants,  fitting  tight  round 
the  ankles  and  tied  with  red  ribbons.  And  his  shoulders 
were  covered  with  a  broad  white  linen  collar,  neatly 
ruffled.  He  was  as  pretty  as  a  picture,  the  envy  of  all 
tne  little  boys,  and  admiration  of  all  the  little  girls  in 
the  school.  Old  Quigley  had  that  one  eye  on  him  all 
morning.  I  wondered  if  James  would  be  initiated  in 
the  usual  way,  with  all  that  finery  on.  If  so,  I  felt 
sorry  for  his  vanity  and  his  Sunday  clothes.  It  was 
about  eleven  o'clock.  James  had  been  on  his  good  be- 
havior all  morning.  The  teacher  would  soon  go  out  for 
his  usual  morning  leg-stretching ;  when,  unfortunately  for 
James,  he  started  to  run  across  the  school-room.  This 
was  against  the  rules.  In  running,  he  tripped  and  fell 
sprawling  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  Old  Quigley  lit 
on  him  with  a  keen,  new  hickory-switch,  and  began  to 
initiate  him  in  his  usual  way  into  the  mysteries  of  peda- 
gogism.  The  little  fellow  yelled  and  kicked,  and 
screamed  that  he  would  tell  his  pa.  This  was  of  no  use. 
Old  Cockeye  whipped  the  harder.  He  was  not  afraid 
of  any  boy's  pa.  I  felt  so  sorry  for  the  dear  little  boy. 
I  had  passed  along  that  road.  I  knew  too  well  what 
had  to  come,  and  I  thought  to  myself  :  "  Poor  little  fel- 
low. If  you  only  knew  what  I  do,  you  would  throw 
up  that  breakfast,  even  to  the  milk  and  peaches,  or 
you  would  spoil  them  breeches."  At  last  my  mind 
was  relieved  when  I   saw  the  nankeens   change  color. 


58  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

Thereupon    old    Quigley    immediately    stopped    whip- 
ping. 

He  made  it  a  rule  to  whip,  when  he  once  began,  till 
the  remedy  worked  either  up  or  down,  when  he  imme- 
diately arrested  his  whipping.  This  was  at  a  time 
when  it  was  the  custom  for  the  boys  to  turn  out  the 
master  a  day  or  two  before  the  term  of  school  ended. 
Schools  were  seldom  taken  up  for  a  longer  period  than 
from  three  to  six  months.  The  first  quarter  of  Mr. 
Quigley's  school  was  about  to  terminate,  and  the  big 
boys  agreed  to  turn  him  out  and  make  him  treat  before 
the  beginning  of  the  second  quarter.  It  was  the  teach- 
er's habit,  every  day,  to  take  a  walk  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes,  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  calling 
to  his  desk  some  of  the  larger  boys  to  keep  order  during 
his  absence.  Iso  sooner  had  he  descended  the  foot  of 
the  hill  leading  toward  the  spring  than  the  three 
larger  boys  in  the  school  began  barricading  the  door. 
There  was  only  one  door  to  the  cabin,  and  by  taking  up 
the  benches,  which  were  ten  or  fifteen  feet  long,  and 
crossing  them  diagonally,  one  to  the  right  and  another 
to  the  left,  in  the  door,  the  benches  projecting  as  much 
outside  as  inside  the  house,  a  complete  barricade  was 
formed  which  could  easily  be  defended  against  assault 
from  without.  "When  the  old  gentleman  saw  what  had 
been  done  he  became  perfectly  furious.  He  was  so 
violent  that  he  easily  intimidated  the  ringleaders.  He 
swore  that  he  would  not  give  up,  and  would  not  treat,  and 
that  he  was  coming  into  the  house  whether  or  no.     At 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  59 

last  be  commenced  to  climb  on  tbe  roof  of  the  bouse, 
and  to  throw  a  part  of  it  off.  It  was  covered  with 
boards  held  on  by  poles.  The  ringleaders,  seeing  that 
be  was  sure  to  effect  an  entrance  anyway,  became  in- 
timidated, and  agreed  to  remove  tbe  barricade  if  be 
would  promise  not  to  whip  them.  After  parleying  a 
little  while,  be  promised  that  he  would  not  flog  the  ring- 
leaders. He  was  a  man  of  most  violent  temper,  and, 
although  fifty-five  years  of  age,  he  was  very  strong  and 
active.  The  ringleader  of  tbe  gang  was  young  Bob 
Stafford.  He  was  tall,  slender,  and  very  strong;  but 
was  evidently  afraid  of  the  teacher,  and  showed  the 
white  featber  decidedly.  As  Mr.  Quigley  came  in  he 
walked  up  to  young  Stafford,  who  stood  trembling  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  and  said :  "  Sir,"  as  he  drew  his 
big  fist  back,  "  I  have  a  great  mind  to  run  my  fist  right 
through  your  body !  "  I  bad  always  thought  Mr.  Quig- 
ley would  do  whatever  be  said  be  would  do,  and  I  re- 
membered with  what  horror  I  looked  at  Stafford,  ex- 
pecting every  minute  to  see  tbe  old  gentleman's  fist 
come  out  through  his  back. 

My  father  came  to  see  me  but  once  during  the  six 
months  I  was  in  this  school.  My  mother  came  to  see 
me  about  once  a  month.  I  was  dying  to  tell  her  of 
the  bad  treatment  I  received  from  the  teacher  and 
from  one  of  bis  daughters.  The  old  gentleman  was 
very  obstinate,  and  not  only  punished  me  unnecessa- 
rily at  school,  but  he  would  not  let  me  have  what  I 
wanted  to  eat,  and  would  compel  me  to  eat  things  ab- 


60  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Bolutely  distasteful  to  me.  I  wished  to  tell  my  mother 
of  all  this;  of  how  Miss  Nelly  used  to  box  my  ears 
and  pull  my  hair,  and  how  old  Quigley  used  to  punish 
me,  but  I  was  too  closely  watched.  I  could  never  get 
her  to  one  side,  never  see  her  alone.  At  last  I  became 
desperate.  And  right  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
family  I  told  the  whole  truth  of  the  severe  treatment 
that  I  had  endured  ever  since  I  had  been  there,  and 
that  she  must  take  me  home;  if  she  didn't,  I  would 
run  away  and  leave  the  place  even  if  I  were  captured 
by  runaway  niggers  and  devoured  by  mad  dogs.  I 
would  have  run  away  long  before,  but  for  the  dread 
of  mad  dogs  and  "  runaway  niggers." 
y  As  soon  as  my  mother  went  home,  and  told  my 
father  what  had  occurred,  he  sent  and  removed  me 
to  my  own  home  again,  where  I  was  as  happy  as  the 
day  was  long.  I  must  say,  however,  that,  in  spite  of 
all  the  disagreeable  things  of  this  school,  they  man- 
aged to  make  the  boys  learn  very  cleverly.  I  used 
to  lie  awake  nights,  and  think  about  what  I  could  do 
to  get  home.  And  then  it  was  that  the  idea  of  an 
elevated  road  came  into  my  mind  strongly.  My  idea 
was  that  all  little  boys  placed  at  boarding-schools  should 
have  a  trough  reaching  from  the  school  to  their  homes, 
elevated  on  posts  and  girders,  ten  feet  above  ground, 
so  that  they  could  climb  up  and  get  into  this  trough 
and  run  home  without  the  fear  of  either  mad  dogs 
or  runaway  niggers. 

The  next  school   that   I    attended   was   taught  by 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  61 

Mr.  John  E.  Sanderson,  an  Irishman.  I  was  now  seven 
years  old.  He  taught  school  alternately  in  the  Wax- 
haws  and  Hanging-Rock  neighborhoods.  The  Waxhaws 
were  in  the  northern  part  of  the  county,  and  the  Hang- 
ing-Rock neighborhood  in  the  southern.  He  was  a 
fine  teacher  for  arithmetic  and  writing.  But  he  was 
very  cruel,  and  whipped  the  boys  often  without  any 
provocation  at  all.  He  thrashed  them  even  when  they 
were  nearly  grown,  although  he  was  a  small  man.  But 
he  was A60  violent  in  his  temper  and  in  the  govern- 
ment of  his  school  that  the  larger  boys  were  afraid 
of  him.  There  was  only  one  day  in  the  week  when 
the  school  was  happy,  and  that  was  Monday.  He 
always  got  drunk  on  Saturday  night,  remained  so  all  day 
Sunday,  and  came  to  school  Monday  morning  as  full 
as  he  could  be,  and  then  was  always  jolly  and  good- 
tempered.  He  would  then  pinch  the  girls'  arms,  and 
say  witty  things  to  the  boys,  and  he  never  whipped 
anybody  on  Monday,  so  we  were  always  happy  on 
that  day.  But  when  Tuesday  arrived  he  reverted  to 
his  old  ways  of  severity.  We  had  one  poor  fellow 
named  Ike  Tillman  in  the  school.  He  was  an  orphan, 
and  was  for  many  years  under  the  tuition  of  Mr.  San- 
derson, and  wherever  he  located  a  school,  whether  in 
one  part  of  the  county  or  the  other,  Ike  Tillman  al- 
ways followed  him.  He  was  a  bad  boy  without  be- 
ing very  bad.  He  was  very  indolent,  but  not  stupid. 
Mr.  Sanderson  had  begun  to  whip  him  when  he  was 
seven  or  eight  years  old,  and  the  boy  had  got  so  U6ed 


62  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

to  it  that  he  expected  to  he  flogged  every  day,  even 
when  he  was  eighteen  years  old  and  nearly  six  feet 
high.  And  he  was  seldom  disappointed.  At  last  one 
or  two  of  the  boys,  abont  his  own  age,  said  to  him, 
one  day,  "  Ike,  you're  too  big  to  be  flogged ;  if  I  were 
you,  I  would  show  fight  next  time." 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  boys  if  you'll  stand  by  me  I 
will  do  it;  but  if  you  don't  I  can't  afford  it." 

They  agreed  to  stand  by  him.  Ike  had  a  slate 
about  twelve  by  ten  inches,  and  the  wooden  frame 
had  been  broken  and  lost.  The  next  day  Mr.  San- 
derson called  up  Ike  for  a  thrashing.  Ike  came  up, 
with  his  slate  in  his  hand,  leaning  it  against  his  bosom, 
and  he  said : 

"Mr.  Sanderson,  you  have  been  whipping  me,  sir, 
ever  since  I  was  a  little  boy.  I  am  now  a  man.  I 
will  be  d — d  if  I'll  stand  it  any  longer !  If  you  come 
a  step  nearer  to  me,  I  will  split  your  d — d  old  head 
open  with  this  slate  !  " 

Mr.  Sanderson  was  surprised,  and  he  changed  his 
tactics  immediately,  and  said : 

"  Why,  Ikey,  why,  you  would  not  strike  me  with 
that  slate,  would  you  ? " 

Ike  said :  "  You  come  one  step  toward  me  and  I'll 
split  you  open,  clean  down  from  your  head  to  your 
backbone,  and,"  said  he,  "  these  boys  have  promised  to 
see  me  through  the  fight !  " 

"  "Well,  Ikey,"  said  Mr.  Sanderson,  "  we  have  lived 
together  a  long  time,  but  I  don't  think  we  can  afford 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  63 

to  be  enemies ;  and,  if  you  are  willing,  we'll  let  by- 
gones be  by-gones,  and  we'll  enter  from  this  day  on 
into  a  new  relationship."  The  old  man  saw  that  the 
game  was  up  and  too  strong  for  him  ;  and,  sure  enough, 
60  far  as  Ike  Tillman  and  the  larger  boys  were  con- 
cerned, the  old  man  was  taught  a  lesson  that  he  never 
forgot  afterward.  But  he  was  so  cruel  to  me  and  my 
little  brother,  and  other  little  children,  that  I  swore  in 
my  heart  that,  if  I  ever  got  to  be  a  man,  I  would 
thrash  him,  if  he  were  as  old  as  Methuselah.  I  re- 
member one  Saturday  meeting  him  on  the  road,  near 
my  father's  house.  My  little  brother  and  I  were  rid- 
ing double  on  a  little  pony.  He  was  riding  in  the 
opposite  direction,  meeting  us.  He  was  very  drunk; 
and,  as  soon  as  he  got  near  enough  to  us,  he  com- 
menced striking  at  us  with  his  stick,  and  really  hurt 
my  brother  very  much.  "We  got  away  as  fast  as  we 
could,  and  galloped  home  to  tell  my  father  what  had 
happened.  But  Sanderson  was  the  only  teacher  in 
the  county,  and  if  a  boy  didn't  go  to  school  to  him 
there  was  no  school  for  him  to  go  to,  and  parents  had 
to  put  up  with  his  cruelties  to  their  children,  because 
they  could  not  help  themselves.  They  were  afraid  to 
speak  to  him  about  his  treatment  for  fear  he  would 
dismiss  their  children  from  school. 

During  the  time  I  went  to  school  to  Mr.  Sander- 
son, about  two  years  off  and  on,  Arthur  Ingram,  a  boy 
about  fourteen  years  old,  always  came  by  my  father's 
house,   to   accompany  my   brother  and   myself  to  the 


64  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

school.  I  was  seven ;  my  brother  five.  We  had  then 
moved  to  the  south  side  of  the  Hanging-Rock  Creek, 
and  in  going  to  the  school  we  were  obliged  to  cross  this 
creek.  We  crossed  it  on  a  log,  and  walking  through 
the  6wamp  after  a  rain  our  feet  became  slippery.  Or- 
dinarily, the  creek  was  very  shallow  where  we  crossed, 
not  more  than  twelve  or  eighteen  inches  deep ;  but  after 
a  rain  it  would  rise  to  four  feet  or  even  five.  We  were 
going  to  school  one  morning  after  a  severe  rain  of  the 
night  before.  Arthur  Ingram  led  the  way  on  the 
round,  smooth  log,  and  went  safely  over,  leading  my 
brother  by  the  hand,  and  I  followed,  holding  the  other 
hand  of  my  little  brother.  Just  as  Arthur  had  landed 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek,  my  brother  slipped  and 
fell  into  the  water  and  I  jumped  in  after  him.  We 
were  like  Siamese  twins ;  whatever  one  did,  the  other 
was  bound  to  do  ;  we  were  bound  up  in  each  other 
completely.  We  clasped  each  other  in  the  water,  and,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  young  Ingram,  we  would  both  have 
been  drowned.  The  water  was  about  four  feet  deep. 
He  stepped  in  and  caught  us  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  and 
drew  us  to  the  bank,  and  saved  our  lives.  He  was  a 
somnambulist,  and  often  remained  over  night  at  my 
father's  house.  It  was  very  curious  to  see  him  rise 
from  bed  fast  asleep  and  wander  about  in  a  listless  way, 
not  knowing  where  he  was  going,  or  what  he  wanted 
to  do.  My  mother  would  easily  coax  him  back  to  bed, 
and  he  would  remember  nothing  of  it  the  next  morn- 
ing. 


MY  EARLY  SCETOOL-DAYS.  65 

My  father's  partner  in  business  was  Mr.  Patterson, 
one  of  the  nicest  and  best  men  I  ever  knew ;  and  he 
gave  me  a  little  lesson  once  that  has  lasted  me  all 
through  life.  I  was  about  eight  years  old.  There  was 
a  great  deal  of  Jamestown  weed  growing  in  the  cor- 
ners of  the  fences  {Datura  stramonium).  He  was  never 
very  communicative  or  disposed  to  talk  much  to 
children.  He  admired  them  at  a  distance,  and  left 
them  quietly  alone.  However,  I  was  surprised  one  day 
when  he  called  me  to  him,  and  said  :  "  Do  you  see  this 
beautiful,  bad-smelling  weed  in  the  corner  of  the  fence  ? 
Some  people  call  it  Jimson  weed,  and  some  people  call 
it  Jamestown  weed.  Now,  will  you  have  the  kindness 
to  tell  me  the  proper  name  for  that  weed  ?  You  have 
been  to  school  long  enough  to  know." 

My  bosom  swelled  with  vanity,  when  the  sober, 
quiet,  dignified  Mr.  Reuben  Patterson  came  to  me  for 
information,  and  I  thought  I  was  certain  that  he  did 
not  know,  or  he  would  not  have  asked  me  the  ques- 
tion. I  certainly  must  not  appear  to  be  ignorant,  so  I 
drew  myself  up,  feeling  my  importance  and  thinking 
I  would  decide  the  question  very  suddenly,  and  I  said, 
"Mr.  Patterson,  the  proper  name  of  that  weed  is  the 
Jimson  weed,  sir." 

Mr.  Patterson  replied:  "Young  man,  the  proper 
name  of  that  weed  is  the  Jamestown  weed,  and  Jimson 
is  only  a  corruption  of  Jamestown.  I  would  advise 
you,  hereafter — and  lay  it  up  in  your  memory — as  long 
as  you  live,  never  to  presume  to  express  an  opinion  on 


QQ  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

any  subject  unless  you  are  thoroughly  informed  on  that 
subject." 

I  was  never  so  humiliated  in  all  the  days  of  my  life. 
And  I  am  sure  that  I  have  thought  of  Mr.  Patterson 
and  the  Jamestown  weed  a  thousand  times  since  then, 
when  I  have  been  called  upon  to  give  an  opinion  and 
didn't  feel  competent  to  do  it.  I  have  often  profited 
by  the  advice  he  then  gave  me. 

Mr.  Sanderson  must  have  educated  at  least  two  hun- 
dred boys  in  Lancaster  district,  and  it  was  said  that  he 
had  thrashed  every  young  man  who  had  ever  gone  to 
school  to  him  except  one,  George  Witherspoon.  But 
George  was  such  a  good  boy  that  it  was  impossible 
for  the  teacher  to  find  any  pretext  to  flog  him.  Mr. 
Sanderson  was  certainly  an  admirable  teacher,  as  far  as 
he  pretended  to  teach,  and  turned  out  many  young 
men  who  were  very  successful  in  life  afterward. 

In  1822,  when  I  was  nine  years  old,  I  went  to  school 
to  Mr.  William  Williams,  and  he  was  the  first  native 
American  teacher  that  we  had  had  among  us.  He  was 
a  very  good  teacher,  and  a  veiy  good  man,  and  I  used 
to  stand  at  the  head  of  my  class  in  spelling.  Unfor- 
tunately, on  one  occasion  some  gentleman  returning 
from  Camden  brought  me  a  jew's-harp.  I  had  never 
seen  one  before,  but  I  was  perfectly  carried  away  with 
this  senseless  little  toy.  I  took  it  to  school  with  me, 
and,  instead  of  getting  my  spelling  lessons  during  the 
recess,  I  was  off  with  other  little  boys  displaying  the 
musical  powers  of  my  jew's-harp.     Time  whiled  away, 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  67 

books  were  called,  and  the  boys  all  hastened  to  school, 
and  I  had  forgotten  to  look  over  my  spelling  lesson. 
About  the  second  round  of  words  that  was  given  out 
I  failed  to  spell  correctly  and  had  to  go  down.  I  was 
very  much  confused,  and  failed  to  spell  any  word  that 
was  given  me,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was  at  the 
bottom  of  my  class  instead  of  standing  at  the  top ;  and 
there  were  about  eight  little  boys  in  the  class.  I  did 
not  know  that  Mr.  Williams  was  aware  of  the  fact 
that  I  had  a  jew's-harp,  but  when  the  lesson  was  ended, 
and  I  was  standing  at  the  wrong  end  of  the  class,  he 
said:  "Marion,  you  appear  here  to-day  in  a  new  char- 
acter;  I  presume  you  intend  to  become  a  musician." 

I  was  exceedingly  mortified  when  he  said  that ; 
and  he  wound  up  by  saying,  "  Will  you  have  the  kind- 
ness to  spell  jew's-harp  for  us."  I  felt  very  much 
ashamed  of  my  disgrace,  and  really  did  not  know  how 
to  spell  it,  but  I  went  it  on  a  venture  and  spelled  it 
,c  juice-harp."  He  turned  to  another  boy  and  asked  him 
if  he  could  spell  the  word,  which  he  did  correctly,  to 
my  complete  discomfiture.  That  was  my  first  and  last 
experience  with  learning  music,  even  with  a  je  vvVharp. 
I  never  played  it  afterward. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  always  had  a  sweetheart. 
The  first  one  was  Miss  Caston.  It  was  very  natural, 
when  I  was  only  five  and  she  was  seventeen,  and  she 
was  so  kind  to  me,  that  I  ought  to  be  desperately  in 
love  with  her.  But  when  I  was  nine  years  old  she  no 
longer  went  to  school,  but  she  had  a  little   sister  who 


68  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

went    to    school    to    Mr.   Williams— Sallie    Caston.    I 
somehow  had  transferred  my  affections  from  the  big 
sister  to  the  little  one.     But  the  little  sister  was  very 
unsympathetic,  and  was   altogether   a  very  stupid   girl ; 
but  it  took  me  some  time   to  find   it  out.     When  the 
school  was   called  at  two   o'clock  it  was  the  habit  of 
the   students  to   run    down   to   the   spring-branch   and 
wash  their  faces  and  hands.     I  noticed  that  Sallie  was 
always  among  the  last,  and  I  concluded  that  I  would 
be  amoug  the  last,  to  get  up  a  little  flirtation  with  her ; 
and  being  totally   ignorant   how   that   could   be   done, 
when  I  was  washing  near  the  spring-branch  just  below 
her,  I  said,  "  Sallie,  I  am  going  to  throw  water  on  you." 
She  said,  "  If  you  do  I'll  tell  master  on  you."     I  said, 
"  Oh  no,  you  would  not  be  so  mean  as  to  tell  the  mas- 
ter.    If  you  do  that  it  will  be  meau."     So  I  took  up  a 
little  water  and  sprinkled  it  on  her  face,  and  she  com- 
menced crying  as  though  her  heart  would  break.     She 
started  for  the  school-house,  screaming   as  loud  as  she 
possibly  could,  crying,  "  Oh,  Oh  dear !  "    I  walked  along 
behind  her,  saying,  "  Sallie,  you  wouldn't  tell  the  teach- 
er, would  you  ? "     But  she  cried  all  the  whole  way  up 
the  hill,  one  hundred  yards.     It  was  a  short  one  for  me. 
When  I  got  to  the   school-house,  Sallie  was  'crying  so 
loudly  that  Mr.  Williams  came  out  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.     As  she  came  within  ten  or  fifteen  feet  of  the 
door  Sallie  cried  out,  "  Marion  Sims,  he  thro  wed  water 
all    over    me   down    by   the    spring,   boo-hoo ! "      The 
master  said,  "Well,  Marion,  did  you  throw  water  on 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  69 

Sallies"  I  could  not  say  that  I  didn't,  and  I  had  no 
explanation.  My  heart  was  broken  for  Sallie,  and  I 
stammered  out,  "  Yes,  sir,  I  did."  As  long  as  I  had  ac- 
knowledged it,  there  was  nothing  more  to  say,  and  Mr. 
Williams  knocked  the  love  for  Sallie  out  of  me  in 
about  three  minutes,  and  I  never  was  in  love  with  her 
again  after  that.     She  was  a  poor  little  forlorn  creature. 

Mr.  Williams  and  I  were  great  friends  after  that. 
He  was  my  father's  deputy-sheriff.  He  was  an  admir- 
able teacher,  and  did  the  best  possible  for  the  advance- 
ment of  his  pupils,  and  succeeded  with  all  of  them  who 
were  willing  to  work.  In  1824  my  father  removed 
from  Hanging-Rock  Creek  to  Lancaster  village.  I 
think  he  went  on  account  of  Mr.  Williams's  school.  My 
brother  and  myself  were  left  at  the  old  place,  in  charge 
of  a  manager  and  the  negroes.  Here  we  were  very 
much  neglected ;  and  white  children  living  among  ne- 
groes, if  they  were  not  looked  after  carefully  by  the 
mother,  were  sure  to  become  lousy.  The  servants  who 
had  charge  of  us  had  neglected  us  entirely,  and  I  shall 
never  forget  the  mortification  that  my  mother  experi- 
enced when  my  brother  and  myself  went  to  Lancaster 
to  see  her,  when  she  found  our  heads  and  clothing 
infested  with  these  little  creatures.  They  belong  always 
to  the  black  race. 

A  great  hit  has  been  made  by  Mr.  Harris,  of  Atlanta, 
Georgia,  in  regard  to  the  folk-lore  of  the  Africans,  in 
conversations  with  "  Uncle  Remus."  He  gives  the 
story  of  "Brer  Rabbit,"  "Brer  Fox,"  and  other  quad- 


7  THE  STOET  OF  MY  LIT  I 

roped  animals.  "\Then  I  was  seven  or  eight  years  old 
a  negro  by  the  name  of  Cudjo  used  to  come  every 
Saturday  night  to  my  father's  house  and  tell  these 
African  negro  stories,  about  the  rabbit  and  the  wolf, 
etc.  He  was  about  four  feet  high,  remarkably  well 
built,  and  his  face  was  beautiful,  but  horribly  tattooed, 
just  as  it  appears  to  us,  symmetrically  done.  He  said 
he  was  captured  and  brought  to  this  country  when  he 
was  a  boy.  He  was  a  prince  in  his  own  country,  and 
would  have  risen  to  become  a  king  or  ruler  of  the  nation 
or  tribe,  if  he  had  remained  at  home  there.  It  has 
been  questioned  by  some,  whence  came  these  stories 
of  negro  folk-lore.  From  what  I  remember  of  this 
negro,  Cudjo,  I  am  satisfied  that  he  brought  his  stories 
from  Africa,  and  that  a  few  negroes  like  himself  laid 
the  foundation  among  the  negroes  native  to  this  coun- 
try of  the  lore  that  has  lately  attracted  such  attention. 
This  man  told  wonderful  stories — ghost -stories — and 
would  eat  fire,  and  knock  himself  with  a  stick  on  the 
head,  when  he  was  telling  them.  I  remember  how 
anxiously  I  looked  for  him  every  Saturday  nigh:  I 
tell  stories  that  were  really  poisoning  my  mind,  and 
infusing  into  it  and  my  nature  a  sense  of  fear  which 
should  not  have  been  cultivated  in  children.  ^Y~e  regu- 
larly saved  np  our  little  sixpences  and  gave  him  all 
our  money  for  his  evening's  entertainment ;  and  it  was 
for  the  money  he  got  out  of  us  little  boys  in  the  neigh- 
borhood that  he  went  from  house  to  house,  giving  his 
Brother  Eabbit  lectures  to  little  boys. 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  71 

In  1825  my  brother  and  myself  followed  our  par- 
ents to  Lancaster,  and  the  days  of  Johnnie  Sanderson 
as  a  teacher  were  about  to  be  numbered.  Dr.  Jones, 
Mr.  Benjamin  Massey,  Mr.  Sikes  Massey,  Colonel  With- 
erspoon  and  my  father,  all  had  boys  to  educate,  and  they 
were  determined  to  establish  a  high-school  in  Lancaster. 
They  raised  a  fund  for  that  purpose,  organized  a  board 
of  trustees,  built  a  very  nice  two-story  brick  house, 
thirty-five  by  twenty  feet,  and  advertised  for  teachers. 
Mr.  Henry  Connelly,  of  Washington  University,  in 
Pennsylvania,  was  chosen  to  inaugurate  the  new  edu- 
cational movement  in  Franklin  Academy,  in  Lancaster 
village.  He  arrived  early  in  December,  1825.  There 
were  no  railroads,  of  course,  in  that  day  and  time,  no 
stage  lines  from  Washington,  Pennsylvania,  to  an  ob- 
scure country  place  like  Lancaster.  The  mail  was  car- 
ried across  the  country  on  horseback.  So  Mr.  Connelly 
and  the  young  man  who  accompanied  him  as  his  assist- 
ant teacher  purchased  a  horse  and  buggy  in  Pennsyl- 
vania, drove  down  through  Maryland,  Yirginia,  and 
North  Carolina,  to  Lancaster,  and  there  sold  the  horse 
and  buggy,  and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  their  vocation. 

The  academy  was  opened  on  the  fifth  day  of  Decem- 
ber, 1825,  and  the  sons  of  all  the  "swells"  in  the  vil- 
lage and  neighborhood  were  to  study  Latin,  as  well  as 
the  several  branches  of  useful  English  education.  I 
told  my  father  that  I  thought  he  was  too  poor  to  give 
me  a  classical  education ;  that  he  had  eight  children ; 
that   the   other    gentlemen   whose   sons   were   studying 


72  THE   STOEY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

Latin  were  all  rich  men,  and  that  he  had  better  have 
me  prepared  for  the  counting-house  and  let  me  help 
him  support  his  large  family.  He  said,  no ;  that  his 
own  education  was  so  entirely  wantiDg,  he  knew  how 
important  it  was  for  every  man  to  get  along  in  the 
world,  and  he  was  determined  to  give  his ~  children  a 
good  education,  if  he  did  nothing  more  for  them,  and 
that  was  better  than  money.  So,  with  the  other  boys, 
I  went  on  with  my  classical  studies.  The  school  pros- 
pered under  Mr.  Connelly's  administration.  He  soon 
established  a  reputation  as  a  disciplinarian,  and  as  an 
efficient  and  successful  teacher,  and  boys  were  sent  from 
all  the  counties  round.  He  remained  in  Lancaster  two 
years,  and  educated  many  young  men  who  in  after-life 
rose  to  distinction.  He  was  a  preacher,  and  belonged 
to  the  sect  of  the  Seceders. 

The  school  was  for  both  boys  and  girls — the  lower 
floor  for  girls  and  very  little  children,  and  the  upper 
floor  for  the  others.  There  were  about  seventy-five  in 
all,  boys  predominating,  some  of  them  over  twenty- 
five  years  old,  down  to  some  not  more  than  ten  or 
twelve.  He  was  certainly  a  very  able  teacher,  and  in 
two  years  he  left  in  his  school  a  set  of  boys  who  were 
as  advanced  as  possible  for  them  to  advance  in  that 
length  of  time.  Like  all  schools,  there  were  some  good 
and  some  bad  boys.  Xone  very  bad  except  one — Will- 
iam Foster.  He  was  a  notoriously  bad  boy  from 
every  point  of  view.  He  exerted  a  demoralizing  in- 
fluence on  the  younger  boys  of  the  school. 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  73 

It  was  said  that  Washington  never  told  a  lie.  I 
am  very  sure  I  am  not  Washington,  for  I  told  one  lie 
in  my  life,  and  it  was  a  "  whopper " ;  but  I  told  it 
very  mildly.  I  always  felt  sorry  that  I  had  to  lie,  but 
I  can  not  say  I  have  regretted  so  much  that  I  did. 
It  happened  in  this  way : 

At  twelve  o'clock  was  always  dismission  for  play- 
hours.     There  was  the  best  of  remarkably  good  boys, 
Ward  Crockett.      He  always  took  his  seat  in  the  mas- 
ter's  chair   and    sat  there   studying    his   lessons   while 
the   rest   of  us  were   out   at  play,  and  he   was   never 
known  to   miss   any  question   put  to   him.      One   day 
Frank  Massey  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Look  here,  Mar- 
ion, I  want  to  break  up  this  Ward  Crockett  business — 
sitting  in   master's   chair.     Now   I  tell  you   what  you 
do.      You  see   this  pin  % "     It  was   nearly   two   inches 
long,    as   large   as  a  knitting-needle,  with   a  big   head 
and  sharp  point.      Said   he,  "You   take   this  pin,  and 
I  will   go   and   get  Ward  Crockett   and   take   him   to 
the  well.      While  we  are  gone  you  will  have  half  an 
hour,  and  you  fix  that  pin  in  the  center  of  the  mas- 
ter's  chair.      When  he   comes   back   and   sits   down   I 
don't  think  he  will  get  much   of  a  lesson  afterward. " 
I  very  foolishly  agreed   to   do  what  he   had  told   me. 
Presently,  Frank  Massey  and  Ward  Crockett  were  seen 
walking  toward   the  well.     I  immediately  entered  the 
academy ;    there   wasn't   a   soul  in  it ;    everybody  was 
out   at  play.     I  very  ingeniously  arranged   the   pin   in 
the   center   of  the   master's   chair-seat,   with   the   point 


74  THE   STORY   OE  MY  LIFE. 

sticking  directly  upward,  and  fixed  it  so  that  it  was 
difficult  to  turn  it  to  either  side.  Ward  Crockett  be- 
came amused  at  a  game  of  ball  out  in  the  yard  with 
us,  and  didn't  go  into  the  house  that  day  at  all  to  get 
his  lessons.  At  two  o'clock  the  school  was  called,  and 
the  class  of  large  boys  was  the  first  to  recite.  The 
master  was  walking  up  and  down,  in  front  of  the  class 
with  book  in  hand  saying,  "Next;"  "right;"  "next;" 
"right,"  and  so  on.  The  answers  were  all  given  very 
correctly  and  the  recitation  was  progressing  finely.  It 
was  about  half  through,  and  after  a  while  the  teacher 
got  tired  of  walking  and  went  to  sit  down.  He  went 
down  into  the  chair,  but  he  flew  up  like  a  rocket ;  his 
head  almost  touched  the  joists  above  him.  He  came 
down  like  a  stick.  [Never  was  a  whole  school  so  sur- 
prised as  at  Mr.  Connelly's  gymnastic  feat.  Nobody 
knew  who  put  that  pin  in  the  chair  but  Frank  Mas- 
sey  and  myself.  But  he  was  certain  that  one  of  three 
young  men  in  the  class  had  done  it.  He  thought  it 
might  possibly  be  Frank  Witherspoon,  but  was  very  sure 
that  it  was  either  Stark  Perry  or  William  Foster,  and  he 
thought  he  would  fasten  it  on  the  guilty  party.  So  he 
began  at  the  head  of  the  class,  and  said,  "  Eush  Jones, 
did  you  put  that  pin  in  the  chair? "  He  said,  "No,  sir." 
I  said,  "  My  God,  if  he  asks  everybody  the  question 
separately  about  that  pin,  what  is  to  become  of  me  %  If 
he  goes  on  in  that  way  he  will  certainly  ask  me,  and 
if  he  finds  out  that  I  put  that  pin  in  there  he  will 
surely  murder  me." 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  75 

"Ward  Crockett,  did  you  put  that  pin  in  the 
chair  ? "     He  answered,  "  No,  sir." 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  he  went  on,  calling  each  one 
by  name.  Presently  he  came  to  Tromp  Witherspoon. 
" Witherspoon,  did  you  put  that  pin  in  the  chair?" 
He  said,  "  No,  sir."  The  thing  was  getting  close  to  me. 
I  said,  "  Good  heavens !  Look  how  pale  he  is !  I 
think  I  must  tell  the  truth,  and  how  am  I  to  do  it  ? " 

However,  before  he  got  to  me,  he  came  to  William 
Foster.  He  thought  he  had  his  man.  He  hesitated,  and 
looked  at  him,  and  tried  to  browbeat  him.  He  said, 
"  William  Foster,  did  you  put  that  pin  in  my  chair  ? " 
He  said,  "  No,  sir,  I  didn't ;  neither  do  I  know  who 
did."  The  teacher  looked  despondent  after  that.  An- 
other was  asked,  and  another,  and  presently  he  came 
to  the  youth  beside  me,  James  Adams. 

"  James  Adams,"  he  said,  "  did  you  put  that  pin 
in  my  chair  ? "  The  teacher  well  knew  that  he  didn't. 
I  was  shivering  and  felt  very  cold.  He  addressed 
me  very  mildly :  "  Marion,  did  you  put  that  pin  in  the 
chair  ? " 

I  said,  "  No,  sir,"  timidly.  I  thought  I  would  say 
yes  at  the  last  moment,  but  Mr.  Connelly's  pale  face, 
compressed  lips  and  clenched  hand  overawed  the  truth, 
and  it  could  not  come  forth. 
I  /  Still  he  went  on.  Presently  he  came  to  Perry.  He 
stopped  still,  and  looked  at  him  fiercely,  with  a  sort  of 
sardonic  smile.  He  thought  he  had  his  man  at  last.  He 
had  started  out  with  the  expectation  of  fixing  it  on 


76  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Perry  or  Foster.  Perry  was  his  last  hope  for  revenge. 
He  said,  "Stark  Perry."  "Sir?"  "Did  you  put  that 
pin  in  my  chair  ? "  "  jSo,  sir,  I  did  not ;  and  more- 
over I  don't  know  who  did  put  it  there,  either." 

That  pin  was  always  a  mystery.  ]^o  one  in  the 
school  ever  suspected  either  Frank  Massey  or  me.  The 
little  lie  I  told  worried  me  for  some  time  afterward. 

Twenty-eight  years  after  this,  when  I  was  living  in 
Xew  York  and  working  to  establish  the  Woman's  Hos- 
pital, I  heard  of  a  preacher  by  the  name  of  Connelly, 
who  was  living  in  Kewburg.  I  wrote  to  him,  asking 
him  if  he  was  the  Henry  Connelly  who  had  charge  of 
the  Franklin  Academy,  in  Lancaster,  South  Carolina, 
in  1825-27.  He  answered  me  very  kindly ;  said  he 
was  the  same  man  and  that  he  was  coming  to  see  me  on 
a  certain  dav.  When  he  arrived  I  was  not  at  home, 
and  my  wife  was  out.  He  had  never  kept  the  run  of 
any  of  his  old  students,  and  he  did  not  know  what 
had  become  of  any  of  them,  and  he  was  very  glad  to  hear 
from  me.  When  he  arrived,  as  I  said,  I  was  out  and 
so  was  my  wife,  and  the  children  came  in  to  see  him, 
knowing  that  he  was  to  come,  and,  as  they  went  up 
to  shake  hands  with  him,  he  said  :  "  How  much  this 
little  girl  looks  like  a  little  girl  I  had  in  my  school, 
twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years  ago.  Her  name  was 
Theresa  Jones."  The  little  girl  said  :  "  Why  that  was 
my  mamma's  name."  He  replied,  "  That  is  very  odd, 
but  you  look  exactly  as  your  mamma  did  then." 

My  house  was  always  after  this  a  stopping-place  for 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  ?7 

him.  He  always  bad  a  room  there,  and  frequently  came 
to  see  us,  and  sometimes  he  staid  a  day  and  a  night ;  but 
he  frequently  dined  with  us,  or  took  luncheon  with  us, 
when  he  came  to  town,  and  we  were  ever  happy  to  see 
him.  One  evening,  while  we  were  sitting  at  dinner,  my 
two  youngest  little  children  got  to  laughing,  and  I  said, 
"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ? "  One  of  them  said,  "  Oh, 
nothing ;  but  isn't  that  the  man  whose  chair  you  put  the 
pin  in  when  you  went  to  school  to  him  ? "  I  didn't 
know  but  what  he  understood  the  children,  and  I  said  to 
him,  "Mr.  Connelly,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you 
which  has  been  on  my  conscience  for  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century."  I  then  told  him  all  about  the  story 
of  the  pin.  He  took  it  in  very  great  earnestness  and 
bad  humor,  and  could  not  enjoy  it.  He  was  mortified 
to  death.  Of  all  the  seventy-five  boys  in  his  school,  he 
6aid,  I  was  the  last  one  he  would  have  suspected  of  do- 
ing such  a  thing.  Mr.  Connelly  could  not  forgive  it, 
and  he  never  came  to  my  house  after  that  day. 

I  said  William  Foster  was  a  bad  boy,  and  that  re- 
minds me  of  an  incident  that  occurred  just  before  Mr. 
Connelly  closed  his  term  of  school.  Foster  had  given 
him  the  nick-name  of  "  Little  Teer."  There  was  no 
sense  in  the  name,  but  he  was  very  sensitive  about 
it,  and  didn't  like  it  at  all.  One  day,  during  intermis- 
sion, somebody  had  drawn  a  face  on  the  blackboard,  and 
written  under  it,  "  Little  Teer."  As  usual,  the  class  of 
big  boys  were  first  for  recitation.  Connelly  was  walking 
up  and  down  before  the  class,  as  was  his  custom,  between 


78  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

them  and  the  blackboard.  After  a  while  he  discovered 
the  face  on  the  blackboard  and  the  "  Little  Teer  "  writ- 
ten under  it,  and  he  immediately  turned  around  and 
said,  "  William  Foster,  did  you  draw  that  ?  Did  you 
write  those  words ! "  He  said,  "  Yes,  sir,  I  did  ;  have 
you  any  objection  to  it  ?  I  have  been  wanting  a  clip  at 
you  for  some  time."  With  that  they  locked.  Foster 
was  a  very  tall  man  ;  Connelly  was  short.  Connelly  was 
matured,  and  strong,  and  was  too  much  for  Foster,  and 
he  threw  him  out  of  doors  and  bruised  him  considerably. 
The  next  day  the  trustees  of  the  academy  called  a  meet- 
ing and  expelled  Foster  from  the  school.  He  ought  to 
have  been  expelled  long  before. 

Foster  became  very  dissipated  and  died  two  or  three 
years  afterward. 

Stark  Perry  was  governor  of  Florida  when  our  great 
civil  war  broke  out.  He  was  very  much  of  a  man,  and 
in  many  respects  a  very  fine  fellow. 

Mr.  Connelly,  before  leaving  Lancaster,  kindly  under- 
took to  engage  some  young  graduate  to  come  on  from 
Washington,  Pennsylvania,  to  take  his  place,  and  he  was 
fortunate  in  the  selection  of  Mr.  John  Harris,  who  en- 
tered on  his  duties  at  Franklin  Academy  the  first  of  De- 
cember, 1827.  Of  course  there  were  no  railroads  in 
those  days,  and  no  stage  lines  from  Washington,  Penn- 
sylvania, to  Lancaster,  South  Carolina,  so  Harris  pur- 
chased a  horse  and  buggy  in  Washington,  Pennsylvania, 
and  a  young  man  named  Mittag  came  with  him.  Then 
Mr.  Connelly  took  the  same  horse  and  buggy  and  drove 


MY  EARLY  SCHOOL-DAYS.  79 

it  back  to  Pennsylvania.  Mr.  Harris  was  a  very  good 
teacher,  but  altogether  a  different  style  of  a  man  from 
Connelly.  He  admired  fine  horses,  liked  a  game  of 
whist,  and  "  put  on  airs "  considerably.  Still,  he  was 
very  much  liked  and  was  a  very  efficient  teacher.  He 
remained  two  years,  and  left  in  1829. 


CHAPTER  IT. 

I  start  to  college  and  get  homesick — My  first  experience  with  wine  not 

a  success. 

The  Franklin  Academy  then  passed  into  the  hands 
of  Mr.  Niles,  of  Camden.  He  was  no  disciplinarian,  and 
not  much  of  a  scholar.  Still  he  prepared  boys  for  col- 
lege, and  in  1830  we  all  started  for  Columbia,  S.  C,  about 
the  first  of  October.  There  were  six  of  us,  all  wanting 
to  enter  the  sophomore  rising  junior,  or  junior,  except 
two,  who  went  into  the  sophomore  class.  I  was  ad- 
mitted to  sophomore  rising  junior.  I  said  previously 
that  in  1825  I  did  not  wish  to  study  the  classics ;  I  didn't 
wish  to  go  to  college.  In  1830,  I  still  would  greatly 
have  preferred  to  remain  at  home  and  take  a  clerkship 
in  Mr.  Stringfellow's  store.  Not  because  I  objected  to 
college  life  so  much,  but  I  felt  that  my  father  was  not 
able  to  give  me  a  university  education.  The  other 
young  men  who  were  going  with  me  to  Columbia  were 
the  sons  of  rich  men,  planters;  and  their  fathers  were 
able  to  send  them  to  college.  However,  college  life  was 
a  new  existence  to  me.  When  I  went  there  I  was  one 
of  the  best  boys  in  the  world.     I  do  not  know  that  I  had 


HOMESICK  AT  COLLEGE.  81 

a  single  bad  habit.  I  didn't  swear ;  I  didn't  drink ;  I 
didn't  gamble;  indeed,  I  had  no  vices  that  could  be 
called  such.  I  was  such  a  good  boy  that  my  mother 
certainly  expected  me  to  be  a  Presbyterian  clergyman, 
and  my  father,  I  knew,  was  educating  me  for  the  bar. 
I  knew  I  should  disappoint  both  of  them.  When  I  had 
been  in  college  about  six  months,  I  became  very  home- 
sick and  wanted  to  go  home.  When  I  thought  of  all 
the  money  it  would  cost  my  poor  father  to  keep  me 
there,  and  that  he  had  a  family  of  eight  children  to  sup- 
port, I  decided  to  relinquish  my  college  course,  return 
home,  and  help  him  to  support  his  family.  At  last  I 
became  desperate,  and,  without  giving  any  notice  to  my 
father  or  the  faculty,  I  left  college  and  went  home.  I 
got  a  young  friend  of  mine,  from  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  Peter  Porcher,  to  answer  for  me  at  prayers 
and  recitations.  At  prayers  it  was  all  right,  and  he  had 
only  to  respond,  "  Here,"  when  my  name  was  called. 
At  recitations,  if  I  were  called  upon,  all  Mr.  Porcher 
would  have  to  answer  was,  "  ISTot  prepared,  sir "  ;  and 
the  professor  would  never  look  up  to  see  if  the  right 
man  gave  the  answer  or  not ;  but  would  merely  put  a 
mark  against  my  name.  When  a  fellow  failed  to  recite, 
it  was  called  a  "flash." 

My  visit  home  was  altogether  unexpected  to  my 
family.  My  father  was  absent,  fortunately  for  me,  and 
when  I  entered  the  house  my  mother  did  not  run  to 
take  me  to  her  bosom,  as  I  expected  she  would,  but 
looked  at  me  with  the  utmost  surprise  and  said  :  "  What 


82  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

in  the  world,  Marion,  brings  you  home?"  I  told  her 
of  my  nnhappiness  at  remaining  in  college,  and  my 
great  wish  to  come  home  and  to  become  a  merchant's 
clerk,  and  help  my  father  to  make  a  living  for  us  all. 
My  poor  mother  said :  "  My  dear  boy,  you  are  a  fool- 
ish fellow.  Your  father  knows  best  what  is  the  proper 
thing  for  you,  and  I  am  glad  that  he  is  not  at  borne  to 
experience  the  mortification  which  I  feel  in  seeing  you 
here  now.  He  will  not  be  at  home  until  to-morrow 
evening,  and  you  must  start  back  to  college  to-morrow 
morning  before  be  sees  you." 

I  was  exceedingly  mortified  at  having  done  such  a 
mean  thing ;  and  so,  with  a  heavy  heart,  the  next  morn- 
ing I  left  my  dear  mother  and  returned  to  college.  I 
had  been  absent  about  three  days,  and  I  was  not  missed 
at  college  during  my  absence. 

Dr.  Cooper  was  president  of  the  college.  He  was  a 
man  considerably  over  seventy  years  old,  a  remarkable 
looking  man.  He  was  never  called  Dr.  Cooper,  but 
*  Old  Coot."  "  Coot  "  is  the  short  for  "  cooter,"  a  name 
generally  applied  south  to  the  terrapin,  and  the  name 
suited  him  exactlv.  He  was  less  than  five  feet  hiorh, 
and  his  head  was  the  biggest  part  of  the  whole  man. 
He  was  a  perfect  taper  from  the  side  of  his  head  down 
to  his  feet ;  he  looked  like  a  wedge  with  a  head  on  it. 
He  was  a  man  of  great  intellect  and  remarkable  learning. 
Xext  to  President  Cooper,  Professor  Henry  was  perhaps 
the  ablest  man  in  the  faculty.  Professor  Xott  was  an 
able  man  and  a  lovely  character,  but  not  a  man  of  a  great 


COLLEGE  LECTURES.  83 

deal  of  force.  The  other  professors,  of  mathematics 
(Wallace),  and  languages  (Parks),  were  very  ordinary 
men,  very  old,  and  without  the  confidence  and  respect 
of  the  class.  Dr.  Cooper  exerted  a  very  bad  influence 
on  the  interests  of  the  college.  He  was  a  pronounced 
infidel,  and  every  year  lectured  on  the  "  Authenticity  of 
the  Pentateuch. "  to  the  senior  class,  generally  six  or 
eight  weeks  before  their  graduation. 

There  was  no  necessity  for  his  delivering  this  lecture. 
It  did  not  belong  to  his  chair  of  political  economy. 
Nor  was  it  necessary  as  president.  I  have  always  won- 
dered why  the  trustees  of  the  college  permitted  him  to 
go  out  of  the  routine  of  the  duties  of  his  office  and  de- 
liver a  lecture  of  this  sort  to  a  set  of  young  men  just 
starting  out  in  the  world.  I  am  amazed,  at  this  late 
day,  that  a  country  as  full  of  Presbyterianism  and 
bigotry  as  that  was  at  that  time  should  have  tolerated 
a  man  in  his  position,  especially  when  advocating  and 
lecturing  upon  such  an  unnecessary  subject.  Dr.  Cooper 
lived  before  his  day.  If  he  had  flourished  now,  in  the 
days  of  Darwin  and  Tyndall  and  Huxley,  he  would  have 
been  a  greater  infidel  than  any  or  all  three  of  them  put 
together. 

Soon  after  I  arrived  at  college  the  new  friends  I  had 
made  there  invited  me  to  go  to  Mr.  Isaac  Lyons's  oyster 
saloon  and  join  them  in  an  oyster  supper.  It  was  al- 
ways the  habit  of  the  young  man  inviting  his  compan- 
ions to  Lyons's  to  stand  the  treat  of  oysters  and  wine 
for  the  crowd.     I  never  had  taken  a  glass  of  wine  in  my 


SI  THE   STORY   OF   MY  LIFE. 

life  before  but  once.  That  was  the  fourth  of  July, 
when  I  was  about  nine  years  old.  There  was  a  celebra- 
tion at  my  father's  house,  and  dinner  was  seryed  under 
the  great  mulberry  trees  in  the  yard.  A  half-dozen  boys 
of  us  were  given  places  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table. 
While  toasts  were  being  drunk,  some  gentlemen  passed 
the  wine  to  the  boys  and  they  were  all  allowed  to  help 
themselyes.  I  am  sure  I  didn't  drink  more  than  two 
table-spoonf nls  of  Madeira  wine ;  the  other  boys  drank 
much  more  than  I  did.  Eyerybody  was  haying  a  good 
time  and  enjoying  the  occasion  exceedingly.  Unfortu- 
nately, I  had  to  be  carried  to  the  house,  in  the  course  of 
half  an  hour,  and  put  to  bed,  dead  drunk.  I  was  ex- 
ceedingly mortified,  and  I  neyer  drank  any  liquor  after 
that  until  I  went  to  college.  The  first  ni^ht  that  I  went 
to  supper  with  the  young  men  at  Mr.  Lyons's  I  indulged 
in  a  small  glass  of  Madeira.  The  others  drank  freely ; 
none  of  them  seemed  to  feel  it.  When  we  started  to 
return  to  the  college  I  had  to  go  with  a  man  on  each 
side  of  me.  I  was  so  drunk  that  I  would  haye  fallen 
if  left  alone.  I  felt  very  unhappy  about  it.  I  said : 
"  Boys,  it  is  very  odd  that  you  can  all  drink  wine  and 
I  can  not.  But  I  am  determined  to  learn  to  drink 
wine." 

So  this  experiment  was  tried  three  or  four  times  in 
two  or  three  months.  Each  time  I  had  to  be  taken 
home  to  the  college,  more  than  half  a  mile.  Then  I 
said  to  my  companions :  "  See  here,  boys,  I  don't  un- 
derstand   how    this    is.       There     must    be    something 


MY  INABILITY  TO  DRINK   WINE.  85 

peculiar  in  my  organization.  Yon  can  all  drink  and 
I  can  not.  You  like  wine  and  I  do  not.  I  hate  it ; 
its  taste  is  disagreeable.  Its  effects  are  dreadful,  be- 
cause it  makes  me  drunk.  Now,  I  hope  you  all  will 
understand  the  position  I  occupy.  I  don't  think  it  is 
right  for  you  to  ask  me  to  drink  wine  when  I  don't 
want  it,  and  it  produces  such  a  bad  effect  upon  me." 
They  all  agreed  that  they  would  not  ask  me  to  drink 
wine  again. 

Since  then  I  have  never  taken  wine  or  brandy,  ex- 
cept in  sickness,  when  it  has  been  prescribed  for  me 
and  urged  upon  me  by  the  doctor.  Even  a  drop  of 
brandy  put  on  my  tongue  is  felt  instantly  in  my  knees 
and  all  over  my  whole  system ;  and  although  I  have 
often,  over  and  over  again,  been  compelled  to  take 
brandy,  I  don't  think  I  can  recall  one  single  instance 
in  which  I  have  been  conscious  of  any  beneficial  ef- 
fects from  it.  I  recall  many  instances  in  which  it  pro- 
duced decidedly  disagreeable  and  uncomfortable  effects. 

Mr.  Lyons's  saloon  was  patronized  by  every  young 
man  who  had  ever  gone  through  the  South  Carolina 
College,  from  its  foundation  up  to  my  day  (1832).  He 
was  one  of  the  kindest  and  best  of  men,  to  everybody 
in  the  world,  and  particularly  to  the  students.  He 
would  trust  them  to  any  amount,  and  for  any  length 
of  time.  He  never  asked  them  for  money;  he  lent 
them  money  if  they  wanted  it,  and  he  was  looked  upon 
as  the  student's  friend  always.  When  I  left  college 
I   owed   him  two   hundred   dollars.     I  had   been  there 


v:  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

:~  ..  -:.:::  :::,_:i^  :-.fi:.     He  ~15  1t~t: 

known,  to  accept  interr?:  in  i  :,.-  :-.i~  ~:.i_i  mi 
i:.i  ::i::i::i :.  ill  if  ~ 1,5  ne^er  in:- 1  :•:  i.:-f  :iinii 
:ifi:  :::  :nj  ir:::if  :ii:  iifj  iii  i::  Lii.  :~  n:r-f 
:.Ln  ::  ~ .:-  ~ :ni.  I  5.1:1  :;  Lin:  "  V:,  L7.-15.  I  in 
afraid  yon  have  lost  a  great  deal  of  money  by  us  boys." 
He  said:  ^Xo,  sir;  I  have  never  lost  a  dollar  in  my 
life.  I  have  been  here  twenty  years,  trusting  students, 
mi  I  li~e  :r~e:  !:«=:  .:  if'::  ~e:.  ^"ififTfr  :-,  5Tiiei: 
returns  home  he  is  almost  sure  to  send  me  the  money 
very  soon  or  to  bring  it  to  me  as  you  have  done.  If 
he  fails  to  do  it  he  writes  to  me  and  explains  why  he 
can  not  do  it.  In  three  or  four  instances  young  men 
L'.~r  ::::  :.  .  lfi~ ii^*  Lir^e  ie::.=  :;e iii  i  :lfn  n 
^-  :V:r.  Tifv  ^~~  iffi  5iiifi>  5:r::ifi  ::~ 1  zj 
ff~fr^   ::  r   iiei.     Li  f~frr  i_ 

:if  rirfr.:=  i.".~f  5fi:  mf  :_r  riL  5111  ::'  i_  :ifv  —  -:e 
owing  me,  without  my  even  calling  on  them  for  it." 

Well,  I  dragged  through  college  in  isBl-  Si'.  I 
was  not  remarkable  for  anything  ¥oy  bad  or  very 
I*::-!.  I  —.15  ki;-~  i>  1  5r.i-~i.Ti.  :i:  i—inilf  fel- 
low. My  recitations  were  about  average;  not  very 
good  or  very  bad.  I  was  very  small  when  I  was  eigh- 
teen, and  weighed  but  one  hundred  and  eight  pounds. 
Hamilton  Boykin,  of  Camden,  South  Carolina,  was  my 
:in.  ni  if  —15  :if  :f  :"if  i::-f5:  ~z-:j$  -  f~fr  i:if— . 
He  was  a  few  months  younger  than  I,  and  was  not 
quite  so  tall,  but  looked  a  little  stouter.  Still,  when 
we  got  into  the  scales,  we  just  balanced  each  other. 


CARD-PLAYING.  87 

Each    of    us    weighed    just    one    hundred    and    eight 
pounds. 

I  didn't  know  one  card  from  another  until  I  went 
to  college,  and  there  the  students  taught  me  to  play- 
whist.  The  Pedee  boys  taught  me  (Cannon,  Evans, 
Williamson,  Ellerbe,  and  four  or  five  others),  and  we 
usually  had  a  game  of  whist  two  or  three  times  a 
week.  Cannon  was  a  funny  fellow.  At  every  game 
of  cards,  not  with  every  hand,  he  would  often  whistle 
out  and  say:  "Well,  boys — 

"  There  was  a  man,  he  had  a  cow, 
And  nothing  for  to  feed  her; 
He  slapped  his  hand  npon  her  rump, 
And  said,  '  Consider,  cow,  consider.' " 

Immediately  Has.  Ellerbe  would  look  up  and  com- 
plain of  Cannon's  senseless  couplet.  "  Look  here, 
Cannon,  don't  tell  that  cow  to  consider  any  more. 
Now,  you  have  a  private  understanding  with  your  part- 
ner. When  you  lay  stress  on  '  consider,'  you  mean  one 
thing ;  and  when  you  lay  it  on  slap,  you  mean  another ; 
you  may  as  well  tell  him  to  lead  trumps,  or  not  to  lead 
trumps.  I  am  opposed  to  your  saying  *  consider '  so 
often,  and  insist  on  your  playing  the  game  without 
bringing  up  that  darned  old  cow  of  the  farmer  who 
had  '  nothing  for  to  feed  her.' " 


CHAPTEE  V. 

Historr  of  dueling  in  South  Carolina — The  killing  of  Adams  and  Columbus 
Nixon — The  Blair-Evans  duel,  how  it  was  prevented — The  Massey- 
Mittag  encounter. 

I  lived  in  the  age  of  dueling.  I  was  educated  to 
believe  that  duels  insured  the  proprieties  of  society 
aud  protected  the  honor  of  women.  I  have  hardly  a 
doubt  but  that,  while  I  was  a  student  in  the  South  Caro- 
lina College,  if  anything  had  happened  to  have  made  it 
necessary  for  me  to  fight  a  duel,  I  would  have  gone 
out  with  the  utmost  coolness  and  allowed  myself  to  be 
shot  down.  But  my  views  on  that  subject  were  entirely 
changed,  a  long,  long  time  ago. 

The  boys  got  up  a  mock  duel  one  day  between 
Frank  Massey  and  Robert  Burns.  Frank  was  in  the 
secret  but  poor  Burns  was  not.  But  he  behaved  brave- 
ly. They  fired  cork  bullets  at  each  other.  I  always 
thought  it  a  hard  and  foolish  game  to  play  off  on  a 
good  fellow  like  Robert  Burns. 

There  was  a  real  duel  in  South  Carolina  College, 
just  after  I  graduated.  It  was  between  Roach,  of  Col- 
leton, and  Adams,  of  Richland  District.  Roach  was  a 
young  man  about  six  feet  high  and  a  physical  beauty. 


DUELING  IN  SOUTH  CAROLINA.  89 

Adams  was  no  less  so,  though  not  so  tall.  Both  men 
were  of  fine  families,  and  Adams  was  supposed  to  be  a 
young  man  of  talent  and  promise.  It  occurred  in  this 
way :  They  were  very  intimate  friends  ;  they  sat  oppo- 
site to  each  other  in  the  Stewards'  Hall,  at  table. 
When  the  bell  rang  and  the  door  was  opened,  the  stu- 
dents rushed  in,  and  it  was  considered  a  matter  of  hon- 
or, when  a  man  got  hold  of  a  dish  of  butter  or  bread, 
or  any  other  dish,  it  was  his.  Unfortunately,  Roach 
and  Adams  sat  opposite  each  other,  and  both  caught 
hold  of  a  dish  of  trout  at  the  same  moment.  Adams 
did  not  let  go ;  Roach  held  on  to  the  dish.  Pres- 
ently Roach  let  go  of  the  dish  and  glared  fiercely 
in  Adams's  face,  and  said :  "  Sir,  I  will  see  you  after 
supper."  They  sat  there  all  through  the  supper,  both 
looking  like  mad  bulls,  I  presume.  Roach  left  the 
supper-room  first,  and  Adams  immediately  followed 
him.  Roach  waited  outside  the  door  for  Adams. 
There  were  no  hard  words  and  no  fisticuffs — all  was 
dignity  and  solemnity.  "Sir,"  said  Roach,  "What 
can  I  do  to  insult  you?"  Adams  replied,  "This  is 
enough,  sir,  and  you  will  hear  from  me."  Adams 
immediately  went  to  his  room  and  sent  a  challenge  to 
Roach.  It  was  promptly  accepted,  and  each  went  up 
town  and  selected  seconds  and  advisers.  And  now 
comes  the  strange  part  of  this  whole  affair :  No  less  a 
person  than  General  Pierce  M.  Butler,  distinguished 
in  the  Mexican  war  as  the  colonel  of  the  Palmetto  regi- 
ment,  and  who   became   Governor  of  South   Carolina, 


90  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

agreed  to  act  as  second  to  one  of  these  young  men. 
The  other  man  had  as  his  adviser  Mr.  D.  J.  McCord, 
a  distinguished  lawyer,  a  most  eminent  citizen,  a  man  of 
great  talents,  whose  name  lives  in  the  judicial  records 
of  the  state  as  being  the  author  of  McCord  and  Eott's 
reports.  Here  were  two  of  the  most  prominent  citi- 
zens of  South  Carolina,  each  of  them  about  forty  years 
of  age,  aiding  and  abetting  dueling  between  two 
young  men,  neither  of  them  over  twenty  years  of  age. 
They  fought  at  Lightwood  Knot  Springs,  ten  miles 
from  Columbia.  They  were  both  men  of  the  coolest 
courage.  My  friend  Dr.  Josiah  C.  Nott,  then  of  Colum- 
bia, and  afterward  of  Mobile,  Alabama,  who  died  some 
eight  years  ago  in  Mobile,  was  the  surgeon  to  one  of 
the  parties.  They  were  to  fight  at  ten  paces  distant. 
They  were  to  fire  at  the  word  "one,"  raising  their 
pistols.  There  are  two  methods  of  dueling:  One  is 
to  hold  the  pistol  erect,  pointing  heavenward,  drop- 
ping it  at  right  angles  with  the  body  at  the  word 
"  Fire ! "  and  then  firing  at  the  word  one,  two,  or  three  ; 
the  other  is  to  hold  the  muzzle  down  toward  the  earth, 
and  then  at  the  word  to  raise  it  at  arm's  length  and 
fire.  The  latter  method  was  adopted  at  the  Roach- 
Adams  duel.  "When  the  word  "Fire !"  was  given,  each 
started  to  raise  his  pistol;  but  each  had  on  a  frock- 
coat,  and  the  flap  of  Roach's  coat  caught  on  his  arm, 
and  prevented  his  pistol  from  rising.  When  Adams 
saw  that,  he  lowered  his  pistol  to  the  ground.  The 
word  was  then  given  a  second  time :  "  Are  you  ready  ? 


ROACH  AND  ADAMS  DUEL.  91 

Fire !  One ! "  They  both  shot  simultaneously ;  Dr.  Nott 
said  it  was  impossible  to  tell  which  was  before  the 
other. 

Adams  was  shot  through  the  pelvis,  and  he  ling- 
ered a  few  hours  and  died  in  great  agony.  Roach 
was  shot  through  the  right  hip-joint,  two  or  three 
inches  below  where  his  ball  entered  Adams's  body. 
He  lingered  for  a  long  time,  and  came  near  dying 
of  blood-poisoning;  but  after  weeks  and  months  of 
suffering,  he  was  able  to  get  up,  but  was  lame  for  life. 
I  presume  he  was  one  of  the  most  unhappy  wretches 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  He  had  killed  his  best 
friend,  became  very  dissipated,  and  always,  when  he 
was  drunk,  the  murder  of  Adams  was  his  theme  of 
conversation ;  doubtless,  when  he  was  sober,  it  troubled 
his  conscience.  He  studied  medicine  and  went  to  Phila- 
delphia, to  the  Jefferson  Medical  College,  and  there  he 
gave  himself  up  entirely  to  dissipation.  He  had  deli- 
rium tremens  and  died  in  Philadelphia,  in  an  attack  of 
it ;  I  think  it  was  in  the  month  of  January,  1836. 
During  the  latter  part  of  his  illness  he  was  imagining 
that  he  was  in  hell,  and  begging  the  author  of  all  tor- 
ments to  pour  molten  lead  down  his  throat  to  quench 
his  thirst.  This  account  was  given  to  me  by  a  young 
man  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  this  death-bed  scene. 

Dueling  was  the  bane  of  the  age  in  which  I  lived, 
in  my  native  state.  Many  valuable  lives  were  sacri- 
ficed to  it.  I  will  never  forget  how  the  whole  country 
was  turned  into  mourning  over  the   death  of  Colum- 


;-.  rz^  ;::_-.-    :_•  a.  irrz 


_  T  -    .    . 


T  -  T*.    .  T'_  -  — 

111        --,       ~ 


Ilur   Lii 


7_r7f     -2.5 


THE  EVANS  AND  BLAIR  DUEL.  93 

young  man  by  the  name  of  Evans,  married,  a  lawyer, 
and  the  conductor  of  a  weekly  paper  at  Camden,  op- 
posed the  manner  of  the  canvass  made  by  General  Blair, 
and   he   had   occasion  to   say  something   not  over-com- 
plimentary of  the   hero   of  Lynch's   Creek,  which  was 
very  offensive  to  the  General,  and  the  latter  thereupon 
sent  him   a   challenge.      Evans   didn't   want   to   fight; 
but  public  opinion  would  brand  any  man  as  a  coward, 
at  that  day  and  time,  who  refused  to  fight  a  duel.     So 
he  was  obliged  to  accept  the  challenge.      They  went  to 
Augusta,  and  I  have  heard  Evans  recount  to  my  father 
ail  the  circumstances  of  the  duel :  of  his  sensations ;  of 
his   firing ;    of  his   anxieties   as   he   rode   to   the   field. 
He  said  he  didn't  think  that  he  ever  felt  so  miserable 
in   all  his  life   as   he   did   when   the   crowd   of   Geor- 
gians, who  got  wind   of  the   duel  and   gathered   to  see 
the    sport,   were   standing    around,   and    when    he    and 
Blair  had  taken  their  positions   at   ten   paces   distant, 
with    pistols    all    ready.        Just    then    he    heard    one 
Georgian,   a  rough-looking    customer,    say  to    another, 
"By  G-d,  Bob,  I   will  bet   you   five   dollars  that   the 
big  man   kills   the  little    one."     This  was   just   before 
he  heard  the  word  "  Fire  !  "  given  ;  and  when  he  heard 
the  word  "Fire!"  given,  and  looked   into  the   muzzle 
of  Blair's  pistol,  it  looked   as  large  to   him  as  a  flour- 
barrel.     He  pulled  away ;  they  fired  at  the  same  time ; 
he   missed    Blair,  though   Blair  was  as   big   as   a   barn- 
door   and   weighed    three    hundred    and    fifty  pounds. 
Blair  shattered  his  right  arm,  and  made  Evans  a  crip- 


94  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

pie  for  life.  It  is  said  that  Blair,  previously  to  the 
challenge,  had  ridden  into  Evans's  house  in  a  drunken 
condition,  and  where  Mrs.  Evans  was  sitting  beside 
the  cradle  where  her  babe  lay,  and  charged  his  horse 
over  the  cradle.  This  was  the  story  told  at  the  time 
all  over  the  country,  but  I  never  believed  it,  though 
there  were  plenty  of  people  in  South  Carolina  who 
did  believe  it. 

As  General  Blair  grew  older,  he  grew  more  pol- 
itic, and  cared  less  for  fighting  a  duel  than  formerly. 
However,  Colonel  Hammond,  subsequently  Governor  of 
South  Carolina,  who  was  the  conductor  of  a  public 
press  in  Columbia,  had  occasion,  in  the  course  of  a 
criticism  upon  Blair's  conduct  in  Congress,  to  say  some 
hard  things  of  him ;  whereupon,  Blair,  in  the  heat 
of  the  affair,  sent  Hammond  a  challenge.  Hammond 
accepted,  probably,  with  thanks.  There  was  nothing 
else  for  him  to  do.  They  were  to  fight  at  the 
corner-stone  of  the  line  dividing  North  and  South 
Carolina,  eight  or  ten  miles  from  Lancaster.  The  two 
parties  met  in  Lancaster.  The  Blair  party  stopped  at 
my  father's  house,  and  the  Hammond  party  stopped 
at  Gill's  Hotel.  Colonel  Witherspoon,  Dr.  Jones,  the 
Masseys,  and  some  of  the  other  influential  citizens,  in- 
cluding my  father,  were  determined  that  this  duel 
should  not  take  place.  For  one  time,  there  were  men 
found  in  South  Carolina  who  dared  face  public  opin- 
ion, and  save  two  men,  whose  lives  were  useful,  from 
throwing  them    away   so    foolishly.      The    affair    was 


GENERAL  BLAIR.  95 

easily  settled.  It  was  easy  enough  for  Hammond  to 
say  that  he  didn't  mean  to  offend  General  Blair  by 
what  he  had  written,  and  General  Blair  then  could 
easily  retract  the  challenge.  The  whole  thing  was 
arranged  in  ten  minutes.  So  the  friends  of  the  former 
agreed  to  bring  Hammond  to  my  father's  house,  to 
meet  General  Blair,  which  was  done.  They  had  never 
met  each  other  before.  I  was  about  eleven  years  old, 
and  I  remember  seeing  the  tall,  handsome,  and  grace- 
ful Hammond  introduced  to  the  magnificent  giant 
Blair.  They  shook  hands,  and  both  seemed  very  hap- 
py, and  everybody  else  was  as  happy  as  they  were. 

When  General  Blair  was  a  younger  man,  he  was 
making  a  visit  to  his  friend  Dr.  Bartlett  Jones,  of 
Lancaster.  While  he  was  sitting  in  the  parlor,  talk- 
ing to  the  doctor,  Mrs.  Jones,  being  in  the  dining-room 
adjoining  with  a  very  pretty  young  girl,  said  to  her, 
"Come  here,  my  dear,  and  look  through  the  key- 
hole into  the  parlor,  and  you  will  see  the  great  Gen- 
eral Blair."  The  young  girl  went  softly  to  the  door, 
looked  through  the  key-hole,  and  saw  the  General. 
She  at  once  drew  back,  clapped  her  hands,  and,  jump- 
ing up,  exclaimed :  "  What  a  splendid-looking  man  he 
is !  He  is  just  the  style  of  man  that  I  like,  and  I  in- 
tend to  marry  him."  And  what  is  strange,  this  same 
young  lady  did  eventually  become  the  wife  of  General 
Blair.  She  did  not  weigh  more  than  one  hundred 
pounds,  while  the  general's  weight  was  over  three  hun- 
dred pounds.     The  young  lady  was  rich  and  well  edu- 


96  THE   STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

cated,  and  had  everything  to  recommend  her.  He  had 
social  position  and  power,  and  was  looked  npon  as  a 
great  man  in  his  day  and  time.  But  as  a  representative 
in  Congress  he  disgraced  himself  beyond  measure.  He 
was  continually  drunk  during  the  last  year  he  was 
in  Congress,  and  on  one  occasion  he  went  into  a  theatre, 
and  in  a  state  of  delirium  tremens,  while  the  play  was 
going  on,  he  drew  his  pistol  and  fired  at  the  stage. 
He  was  removed  from  the  theatre  by  the  police,  and 
to  the  last  day  of  his  life  it  was  a  source  of  the  bit- 
terest regret  to  him. 

It  is  said  that  cowards  sometimes  fight  duels;  that 
dueling  is  no  evidence  of  courage  or  bravery.  I  am 
perfectly  satisfied  of  this.  A  very  remarkable  duel  took 
place  between  two  Lancaster  men  about  the  year  1836. 
A  young  man  named  Herschell  Massey  (we  called  him 
"  Herscli "),  belonging  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  the 
district  (a  son  of  Mr.  Sikes  Massey),  often  affected  the 
rowdy,  and  yet  there  was  much  of  the  gentleman  about 
him.  He  rather  wanted  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  bully, 
but  he  was  a  man  of  more  heart  than  the  world  gave 
him  credit  for.  He  had  some  personal  difficulty  with 
Mr.  Mittag  on  account  of  an  election.  Mittag  was  al- 
ways antagonistic  to  the  chivalric  sentiment  that  per- 
vaded South  Carolina.  Massey,  thinking  Mittag  a  cow- 
ard, challenged  him.  Mittag  knew  very  well  that  he 
had  always  been  considered  as  a  coward  in  that  country. 
He  had  not  been  understood.  And  he  said  to  himself : 
"  I  don't  think  I  am  a  coward  ;  I  am  going  to  fight  this 


LEVY   AND   MITTAG  DUEL.  97 

thing  through."  So  he  went  to  Camden  and  put  him- 
self under  the  training  of  the  great  duelist  Chapman 
Levy,  a  man  whose  advice  had  always  been  sought  in 
every  duel  that  had  been  fought  in  the  upper  part  of 
South  Carolina  for  many  years.  Levy  put  Mittag 
through  a  course  of  training,  and  he  became  a  pretty  good 
shot,  and  thus  worked  himself  up  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  physical  and  moral  courage.  They  went  to  Chester- 
field District  to  fight,  and,  strange  to  say,,  Massey,  who 
was  always  regarded  as  a  brave  man,  was  very  unwilling 
to  fight,  and  it  is  said  that  he  would  gladly  have  got 
out  of  the  affair  if  it  had  been  possible.  Mittag,  who 
was  regarded  as  a  coward,  never  flinched.  He  felt  that 
he  had  nothing  to  live  for;  was  without  friends  and 
without  sympathy;  and  he  determined  to  sacrifice  his 
life,  or  to  prove  to  the  world  that  he  was  no  longer  to 
be  called  a  coward. 

When  they  took  their  stations,  Mittag  was  the  pict- 
ure of  coolness  and  determination.  Massey  was  so  de- 
spondent in  seeing  this  manifestation  of  courage  that 
he  was  almost  disarmed,  and  fought  the  duel  under  dis- 
advantageous circumstances ;  for  he  was  demoralized  by 
all  his  surroundings.  When  the  word  "  Fire ! "  was 
given,  both  raised  their  pistols  together.  Mittag  was 
shot  through  the  thigh;  Massey  was  not  hurt.  Mittag 
bore  his  wound  with  heroism  and  patience,  and  he 
begged  to  be  tied  up  to  a  little  sapling  and  have  an- 
other shot  at  Massey ;  but  the  seconds  interfered  and  de- 
clared that  there  must  be  no  more  bloodshed  and  risk  of 
5 


98  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

life.  Massey  was  my  school-fellow.  He  was  two  years 
my  junior.  With  all  his  bad  qualities,  he  had  some 
noble  traits  of  character.  He  was  kind  and  generous 
and  sympathetic,  and,  knowing  him  as  I  did  when  he 
was  a  boy,  I  was  surprised  that,  as  a  man,  he  manifested 
so  many  characteristics  of  the  bully  and  rowdy.  Mittag 
was  a  man  of  great  culture  and  refinement,  and  a  native 
of  Hagerstown,  Maryland.  He  was  educated  in  Wash- 
ington College,  Pennsylvania,  and  had  gone  to  South 
Carolina  with  John  Harris,  when  he  was  called  to  the 
charge  of  the  Franklin  Academy,  in  1827.  He  there 
studied  law  with  Mr.  Howard,  and  set  himself  up  as  a 
practitioner.  However,  he  failed  utterly  in  all  this.  He 
was  a  ripe  scholar,  and  one  of  the  handsomest  men  I 
ever  saw.  He  had  a  high,  classical  head,  the  very  pict- 
ure of  Shakespeare  to  look  at,  elevated  and  refined,  and 
more  beautiful,  if  anything,  than  Shakespeare's ;  at  least, 
so  I  thought,  of  any  I  have  ever  seen.  He  was  a  philoso- 
pher, a  scholar,  and,  in  my  early  days,  I  loved  him 
dearly.  I  was  fond  of  him  because  he  had  no  friends, 
and  because  he  was  kind  to  me.  He  took  a  great  fancy 
to  me,  and  used  to  write  my  Greek  lessons  for  me,  and 
gave  me  advice  about  my  future  course  of  life.  From 
that  day  to  this  he  has  been  my  devoted  friend  and  oc- 
casional correspondent.  Many  a  man  has  lived  before 
his  time ;  Mittag  lived  two  or  three  thousand  years  after 
his.  If  he  had  lived  in  the  days  of  Socrates  or  Plato, 
he  would  then  have  been  regarded  as  a  great  philoso- 
pher, for  he  was  learned  in  the  old  classics,  and  had  a 


INFLUENCE  OF  EDUCATION.  99 

philosophy  of  life  that  was  not  at  all  suited  to  the  age  in 
which  he  lived. 

We  are  what  we  are  by  education,  and  hardly  any 
man  is  responsible  for  his  opinions,  or  in  his  youth  for 
his  acts.  "When  I  was  a  boy,  in  college,  I  was  so  imbued 
with  the  correctness  of  dueling  that  I  am  sure  that  if 
I  had  been  challenged,  or  thought  I  had  any  occasion,  I 
would  not  have  hesitated  to  put  my  life  in  jeopardy  in 
defense  of  a  principle  of  honor. 


CHAPTEE  VL 

College  days  continued — A  midnight  serenade — Almost  a  murder — The 
class  of  1831 — Its  personnel — Class  of  1832 — Cole's  visit  from  a 
ghost — Fire  at  the  college — Cole's  heroism. 

Two  things  occurred  during  my  college  life  which 
always  have  been  matters  of  regret  and  sorrow  to  me. 
The  first  was  this :  Most  of  the  young  men  boarded  in 
the  Steward's  Hall.  Many  of  them  got  tired  of  bad 
bread,  bad  meat,  bad  butter,  bad  manners,  and  bad  every- 
thing. It  was  served  at  a  cheap  rate  for  young  men 
who  boarded  in  the  Steward's  Hall.  Some  of  us  at  last 
got  tired,  and  we  went  up-town  and  engaged  board  in  a 
private  house.  So  about  a  dozen  of  us,  or  possibly 
fifteen  of  us,  boarded  at  a  house  kept  by  a  lady  who 
lived  near  the  old  capitol,  whose  name  I  have  now  for- 
gotten. "William  Boykin  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
At  his  right  sat  James  Aiken.  I  sat  next  to  James 
Aiken  ;  Boykin  Witherspoon  sat  next  to  me.  One  day, 
as  we  were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  at  one  o'clock,  James 
Aiken,  who  was  a  very  popular,  fine  young  fellow,  play- 
fully pulled  my  chair  out  from  behind  me.  I  happened 
to  see  it,  and  didn't  sit  down,  but  mechanically  turned 
around  and  pulled  \Yitherspoon's  chair  from  under  him. 


COLLEGE  DAYS.  101 

Witherspoon  didn't  see  me,  and  lie  fell  plump  on  the 
floor.  He  was  a  man  of  great  dignity,  a  grand,  noble 
fellow  to  look  at,  and  a  grand,  noble  fellow  from  every 
point  of  view :  morally,  socially,  and  intellectually.  He 
was  a  man  much  respected  and  much  beloved.  When 
he  arose,  I  apologized  in  the  humblest  manner  that  I 
possibly  could.  I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  intend  to 
throw  him  down,  that  I  regretted  it  then,  and  that  I  was 
not  ashamed  to  say  that  I  was  heartily  sorry  and  should 
regret  it  always.  I  hoped  he  would  receive  my  apology 
in  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  tendered.  He  received  it 
very  gruffly,  saying  that  he  was  not  at  all  satisfied.  He 
could  not  get  over  the  indignity  offered  to  his  person. 
After  dinner,  he  spoke  to  me  of  the  matter  again. 
Again  I  repeated  the  apology ;  and  still  he  was  not  satis- 
fied. I  then  became  indignant,  and  said :  "  I  have  done 
all  that  a  gentleman  can  do.  Now,  sir,  help  yourself ."  I 
did  not  want  to  appear  before  my  comrades  as  if  I  were 
afraid  of  anything  or  anybody.  If  Witherspoon  had 
been  a  fool,  he  would  have  challenged  me.  If  he  had 
been  a  coward,  he  would  have  knocked  me  over ;  for  I 
was  a  little  fellow,  and  he  was  a  big  fellow.  He  was 
too  much  of  the  man  to  perpetrate  any  such  outrageous 
acts.  I  always  felt  sorry  for  it ;  I  never  saw  him  dur- 
ing our  intercourse  at  college  without  feeling  unhappy, 
though  it  never  was  mentioned.  He  never  liked  me 
after  that  unfortunate  day.  I  never  saw  him  without 
thinking  of  it.  However,  later  in  our  student  life,  in 
Charleston,   South   Carolina,   two   years   after  this,  my 


102  THE  STOEY   OF  MY  LITE. 

heart  was  gladdened  by  a  social  visit  from  Boykin 
"Witherspoon.  I  was  glad,  and  I  felt  that  if  he  had  not 
forgotten,  he  had  certainly  forgiven  the  unfortunate 
affair  and  the  foolish  freak  of  a  college  boy.  I  had 
great  respect  and  admiration  for  him,  as  for  no  other 
young  man  in  all  the  college.  I  am  now  satisfied  that  if 
Witherspoon  had  been  foolish  enough  to  have  challenged 
me  to  a  duel,  I  should  have  accepted  it,  even  at  the  risk 
of  losing  my  own  life  or  of  killing  him.  So  much  for 
a  faulty  education  and  for  a  depraved  sentiment  of 
public  opinion. 

Another  unfortunate  thing,  which  gave  me  great  re- 
gret ever  since,  occurred  during  my  college  life.  Hufus 
Nott  was  my  junior ;  he  was  a  sophomore  when  I  was 
a  junior.  He  was  the  son  of  the  great  Judge  Nott  of 
South  Carolina,  one  of  the  younger  brothers  of  the  dis- 
tinguished Josiah  C.  Nott,  already  alluded  to  in  this 
story.  One  day  he  said  to  me,  "  Marion,  do  you  want 
to  go  with  me  and  George  Ellis  and  John  Wells,  and 
two  or  three  other  boys,  out  to  Barhamville  to  give  the 
girls  a  serenade  ? "  This  was  in  the  month  of  May, 
1831.  Dr.  Marks  had  established  a  high -school  for 
young  ladies  at  Barhamville,  two  miles  from  Columbia, 
out  in  the  Sand  Hills,  a  mile  or  more  beyond  the  Luna- 
tic Asylum.  Young  ladies  were  sent  there  from  all 
parts  of  the  State  to  school,  as  it  was  the  first  and  only 
school  of  its  character  at  the  South.  It  was  of  a  very 
high  class,  and  most  of  the  young  men  of  the  college 
had   sweethearts,   or  cousins,   or  sisters   attending  this 


COLLEGE  DAYS.  103 

school.  "  Kufe,"  as  we  used  to  call  him,  took  a  loaded 
gun  with  him,  and  also  a  bottle  of  whisky ;  and  instead 
of  having  a  hired  fiddler  to  go  out  serenading  the  girls, 
we  had  purchased  a  number  of  little  tin  trumpets  and 
school-children's  drums.  So  we  went  out,  thus  armed, 
for  our  serenade. 

The  night  was  beautiful ;  a  full  moon  shining.  It 
was  about  eleven  o'clock  when  we  arrived.  The 
house  was  situated  on  an  elevated  knoll  in  the  pine 
woods,  surrounded  by  a  beautiful  drive  and  gardens  in 
a  state  of  high  cultivation.  We  marched  around  this 
magnificent  house,  and  everything  seemed  to  be  as 
quiet  and  silent  as  the  grave  itself.  We  were  beating 
the  drums,  and  playing  the  little  tin  trumpets,  and  mak- 
ing a  heathenish,  hellish  noise.  After  satisfying  our- 
selves with  this  exploit,  we  started  off.  Unfortunately, 
Dr.  Marks  had  become  so  incensed  that  he  dressed  him- 
self and  descended,  with  a  shot-gun  in  hand,  to  fire  at 
the  boys.  "We  had  got  nearly  down  to  the  gate,  some 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  when  Dr. 
Marks  came,  with  his  gun  in  his  hand,  running  in  great 
haste ;  he  fired  his  gun,  loaded  with  bird-shot.  Un- 
luckily, one  of  the  shot  struck  Rufus  Nott  in  the  lower 
lip,  and  one  or  two  in  the  forehead  ;  he  bit  the  shot 
out  of  his  lower  lip.  He  had  a  gun  in  his  hand,  with  a 
flint-and-steel  lock ;  it  was  loaded  with  bird-shot,  and 
he  started  to  run  after  the  doctor,  who,  after  discharging 
his  gun,  turned  his  back  and  ran  for  the  college.  Nott 
ran  after  him,  and  he  was  not  more  than  ten  steps  in  his 


104:  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

rear.  He  pulled  the  trigger  of  his  gun,  and  the  fire 
could  be  seen  rolling  to  the  ground.  Two  or  three 
times  he  pulled  the  trigger  back ;  there  was  a  flash  in 
the  pan,  and  the  gun  did  not  go  off.  If  it  had,  the 
whole  charge  would  have  gone  into  the  back  of  Dr. 
Marks.  When  all  this  was  over,  I  began  to  think  about 
it.  I  saw  how  foolish  an  act  we  had  been  guilty  of; 
how  providentially  we  had  escaped  murder  and  its  con- 
sequences. "  Rufe  "  Nott  is  now  living  in  Texas,  prac- 
ticing medicine,  and  a  planter ;  a  man  greatly  beloved 
and  honored;  and  doubtless  he  regrets  the  foolish  act 
of  ours  that  night  out  at  Barhamville  as  much  as  I  have 
for  the  last  fifty  years. 

The  graduating  class  of  the  South  Carolina  College, 
in  1831,  possessed  more  talent  in  it,  and  men  of  more 
promise,  than  any  other  half-dozen  classes  that  had  been 
turned  out  of  it  since  the  foundation  of  the  institution 
in  1807  or  1808.  Thornwell  was  first-honor  man ;  Glad- 
ney  was  his  great  antagonist,  and,  by  common  consent 
among  the  students,  the  award  of  the  faculty  was  the 
proper  one ;  and  students  are  generally  good  judges  of 
the  qualifications  of  the  members  of  the  different  classes. 
I  do  not  remember  all  the  men  of  this  class  who  have 
arrived  at  distinction ;  but  Gladney,  with  all  his  talent, 
and  all  his  distinction,  and  all  his  promise,  never  got 
higher  than  to  be  the  head  of  a  fashionable  female 
academy.  McGrath,  of  Charleston,  was  a  man  of  great 
promise,  and  all  thought  that  he  would  make  his  mark 
in  the  highest  degree.     Northrop  was  a  brilliant,  mete- 


COLLEGE  DAYS.  105^ 

oric  fellow,  who  graduated  in  December,  1831,  and  was 
returned  the  next  autumn  as  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  from  Charleston,  and  he  came  back  to 
us  a  dignified  member  of  the  South  Carolina  Legislature. 
We  were  all  very  proud  of  him.  Such  a  thing  had  not 
happened  before,  as  a  graduate  of  the  college  going  into 
politics  and  into  the  halls  of  the  Legislature  within 
twelve  months  after  he  left  college.  Northrop,  though, 
didn't  half  fulfill  the  expectations  of  his  friends ;  he 
didn't  achieve  any  great  reputation  for  solidarity,  but  he 
was  an  eloquent,  good  talker,  though  perhaps  too  super- 
ficial. His  death  was  very  sudden ;  his  life  was  un- 
happy, and  there  was  something  odd  about  his  marriages, 
his  second  in  particular;  but  it  isn't  my  business  here 
to  record  it.  During  our  great  civil  war,  when  Sherman 
was  making  his  march  to  the  sea,  and  sweeping  around 
through  my  native  State  to  make  his  way  to  Richmond, 
Northrop  had  retired  from  Charleston,  and  had  taken 
up  his  abode  in  a  little  cabin  in  Lancaster.  He  was 
living  in  this  little  cabin,  about  a  mile  from  the  village. 
When  I  was  there  in  1877,  the  spot  was  pointed  out  to 
me  —  an  oak-tree,  on  which  the  Yankees  hung  Nor- 
throp. He  was  supposed  to  belong  to  the  upper  crust 
of  Charleston,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  that  obscure 
place,  and  that  he  must  of  necessity  have  money  or  plate 
hidden  away ;  and  so  he  was  called  upon  by  some  of 
the  roughs  that  went  through  the  country,  "  hangers-on  " 
upon  Sherman's  army.  He  was  found  at  this  place  and 
called  upon  to  give  up  his  hidden  wealth.     He  declared 


106  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

that  he  had  nothing  in  the  world  to  give  them.  They 
did  not  believe  him,  and  said  that  they  had  heard  that 
same  story  before,  and  too  often,  and  they  proposed  to 
bring  him  to  his  senses  and  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
truth.  They  tied  a  rope  aronnd  his  neck  and  drew  him 
np  to  one  of  the  limbs  of  the  oak-tree.  They  let  him 
down  again,  but  he  protested  that  he  had  nothing,  and 
that  if  he  had,  he  would  give  it  up  if  they  would  spare 
his  life.  They  did  not  believe  him,  and  drew  him  up 
again  ;  but,  unfortunately,  they  kept  him  there  too  long, 
and  life  was  extinct  when  he  was  cut  down. 

There  were  in  the  South  Carolina  College  two  socie- 
ties, literary  societies,  viz.,  the  Euphradian  and  the 
Clariosophic.  The  number  of  members  was  about  equal- 
ly divided;  and  a  county  that  once  had  a  representa- 
tion in  one  society,  continued  nearly  always  to  send  its 
students  to  that  society  afterward.  The  Lancaster  boys 
were  all  members  of  the  Euphradian  society,  and  so,  of 
course,  I  was  a  Euphradian.  Thornwell  was  the  great 
orator  of  the  society,  and  there  was  not  a  man  who  could 
measure  arms  with  him.  Vincent  would  have  been 
considered  a  good  argumentative  member  if  there  had 
been  no  man  superior  to  him ;  but  Thornwell  was  the 
great  orator  of  the  society,  and  he  was  such  a  giant  in 
intellect  that,  when  it  came  to  the  discussion  of  a  sub- 
ject, he  overrode  everything  with  the  strong  will  of  his 
mighty  genius,  and  everybody  else  seemed  to  be  a  mere 
pygmy  in  his  grasp.  Thornwell  was  perhaps  one  of 
the  greatest  intellects  that  the  South  Carolina  College 


COLLEGE  DAYS.  107 

has  ever  produced,  and  second  only  to  John  C.  Calhoun. 
Calhoun  knew  him  well,  and  looked  upon  him  as  the 
coming  man  for  the  South.  He  thought  that  he  would 
eventually  fill  his  own  place  in  the  councils  of  the 
nation.  Thornwell  was  the  son  of  a  poor  man  living 
near  Darlington  District,  South  Carolina.  He  was  a 
poor,  dirty-looking,  malarial-looking  boy,  weighing  about 
ninety  or  one  hundred  pounds  when  he  joined  the  junior 
class  of  the  South  Carolina  College.  He  was  very  small, 
very  thin,  very  pale,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  never  had 
enough  to  eat.  He  was  very  frail,  and  looked  like 
he  could  not  have  run  a  mile  without  fatigue.  He  was 
a  hard  student,  and  had  a  wonderful  memory,  a  great 
command  of  language,  great  logical  powers,  and  alto- 
gether he  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  men  I  have  ever 
known.  When  he  graduated  he  went  home,  and  we  all 
expected  that  he  would  study  law,  and  predicted  for  him 
a  brilliant  career  ;  for  in  that  day  and  time  everybody 
looked  upon  the  law  as  the  stepping-stone  to  prefer- 
ment, and  to  power,  and  to  position. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  disappointment  I  felt  when 
Thornwell,  so  I  had  heard,  had  joined  the  Presbyte- 
rian Church,  and  that  he  would  not  devote  himself  to 
the  law  and  to  politics,  but  that  he  would  go  into  the 
ministry.  He  was  no  more  religious  than  I  was  when 
he  was  in  college;  still  he  was  a  power,  and  a  good 
man.  After  he  went  home  he  studied  law,  or  began 
to,  and  he  happened  to  meet  his  old  friend  Dick 
Baker,  who  was   a   class-mate   of  mine.     Baker  invited 


108  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

him  to  come  down  to  Sumpter  District  for  a  visit,  and 
he  went  down  during  the  summer.  Dick  had  a  sister, 
a  beautiful  and  accomplished  young  woman.  Thorn- 
well  fell  in  love  with  her,  and  wanted  to  marry  her. 
She  was  a  rigid  member  of  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  they  talked  a  good  deal  about  religion,  and  he 
professed  to  be  inquiring  the  way  of  salvation.  They 
had  many  conversations  on  the  subject,  and  some  per- 
sons had  given  him  one  book  on  the  subject,  and  some 
another,  for  him  to  read.  He  read  and  studied  them 
all,  and  at  last  he  was  as  far  from  the  convincing  evi- 
dence as  ever.  Then  this  beautiful  woman  told  him 
if  he  would  take  the  ordinary  Confession  of  Faith,  and 
study  that,  she  thought  that  there  he  would  see  the 
truth.  He  did  so,  and  he  rose  from  its  perusal  a 
converted  man ;  and  from  that  time  he  determined 
to  give  himself  to  the  Church.  But,  what  is  strange, 
Miss  Baker  did  not  marry  him.  I  do  not  know  that 
I  could  blame  her;  for  physically  he  was  nothing, 
though  intellectually  he  was  a  giant.  Thornwell  sub- 
sequently became  President  of  the  South  Carolina  Col- 
lege ;  he  became  a  power  in  the  State  politics,  though 
he  never  held  any  political  office ;  he  was  the  head 
of  the  Theological  Seminary ;  he  was  a  power  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  and  a  great  power  outside  of  it. 
His  brilliant  talents  were  given  to  preaching  Jesus 
Christ  and  him  crucified ;  to  educate  the  youth  of  the 
State,  to  writing  polemic  theological  disquisitions,  and 
to   beating  the   air   with   abstractions  in  religion,   and 


COLLEGE  DAYS.  109 

teaching  doctrines  all  of  which  must  eventually  pass 
away.  He  was  a  great  man,  and  I  shall  have  more 
to  say  of  him  and  his  theology  by  and  by. 

If  the  class  of  1831,  which  graduated  that  year, 
was  so  conspicuous  for  its  talent,  my  own  class,  which 
graduated  in  1832  (December),  represented  the  other 
extreme,  and  was  equally  conspicuous  for  its  want  of 
talent,  excepting  possibly  Lessesne  and  Mitchell.  Pre- 
vious to  the  class  of  1832,  the  class  honors  had  usually 
been  distributed  to  about  a  dozen ;  though  of  course 
below  the  fifth  honor  there  was  little  or  no  import- 
ance attached  to  it.  However,  in  ThornwelPs  class, 
they  had  given  thirteen  honors,  while  in  my  own 
they  had  given  only  one,  divided  between  Lessesne 
and  Mitchell.  It  was  the  verdict  of  my  class  that 
Mitchell  should  have  the  first  honor.  Still,  Lessesne 
was  a  very  good  student,  but  was  not  equal  to  Mitchell 
in  his  qualifications  and  his  claims.  Still,  as  Lessesne 
was  about  to  marry  the  daughter  of  President  Cooper, 
it  was  very  likely  that  this  fact  had  something  to  do 
with  getting  the  first  honor  divided  with  Mitchell. 
There  were  none  given  after  that,  and  very  justly; 
for  none  of  them  were  worthy  of  anything. 

We  can  not  always  judge  of  a  man  by  his  looks. 
Some  small,  puny  men,  like  Thornwell,  are  men  of 
very  great  force.  There  was  an  illustration  of  this 
in  a  young  man  named  James  P.  Cole,  who  was  a 
junior  when  I  was  senior.  He  came  from  Abbey ville 
District.     He  was    a   small   man.     I   always   had   sym- 


110  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

pathy  for  small  men,  for  I  was  a  little  fellow  myself, 
and  had  an  unbounded  admiration  for  large  men,  and 
always  admired  and  envied  them.  Cole  was  a  quiet, 
unobtrusive  fellow,  had  some  friends,  but  had  few 
warm  ones  among  the  students.  He  was  a  good 
student,  had  few  or  no  bad  habits,  and  was  never  seen 
at  Mr.  Lyons's  at  an  oyster  supper,  and  never  drank  wine. 
He  always  made  good  recitations,  and  was  altogether 
a  model  young  man.  Soon  after  he  joined  college, 
he  was  sitting  one  night  about  ten  o'clock  in  his  room, 
studying  very  hard,  and  there  was  a  rap  at  his  door. 
He  said,  "  Come  in."  The  door  was  opened  and  a 
ghost  appeared,  in  the  shape  of  a  tall  man,  with  a  sheet 
wrapped  around  him,  and  a  dough  face.  Cole  was  no 
more  frightened  at  that  ghost  than  he  was  at  himself. 
He  just  quietly  looked  around  and  said,  "My  young 
friend,  I  advise  you  not  to  repeat  that  experiment." 
The  fellow  was  very  much  disappointed  in  seeing  Cole's 
coolness,  and  never  spoke  a  word  ;  and  went  away,  clos- 
ing the  door  after  him. 

Cole  thought  it  very  likely  that  this  ghost  would 
repeat  the  visit  at  some  future  time,  and  so  he  pre- 
pared himself.  He  had  a  pistol,  which  he  laid  out  at 
the  end  of  his  table,  loaded  and  cocked ;  determined, 
if  the  ghost  appeared  again,  he  would  give  him  a 
"pop."  About  a  week  or  ten  days  after  this  time, 
at  the  same  hour  at  night,  it  tapped  again  at  the  door, 
which  was  heard  by  Cole,  and  who  thought  that  per- 
haps it  was  his  ghost  that  had  come  again  to  make  him 


COLLEGE  DAYS.  HI 

another  call.  So  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  pistol  and 
said,  "Come  in,"  in  response  to  the  knock.  Sure 
enough,  it  was  the  very  ghost  again.  Cole  did  not 
say  one  word.  He  simply  raised  his  pistol  and  fired  at 
the  ghost's  head.  The  ghost  fortunately  jerked  its 
head  away  just  in  time  to  prevent  the  bullet  perfor- 
ating its  brain.  It  struck  the  facing  of  the  door,  just 
on  a  level  with  the  ghost's  head.  Nobody  ever  knew 
who  that  ghost  was;  it  was  a  profound  secret  to  the 
ghost  and  the  college  boys.  But  one  man  was  always 
suspected,  and  that  was  a  tall,  slender  fellow,  named 
Cosnahan,  from  the  Peedee  District.  He  was  always 
suspected  of  being  that  ghost. 

Cosnahan  was  the  only  fellow  in  the  college  who 
didn't  seem  to  have  a  warm  bosom  friend.  He  was 
always  treated  politely,  but  nobody  loved  him.  No- 
body cared  for  him.  He  was  a  great  novel-reader  and 
a  great  smoker ;  a  dirty-looking  fellow,  without  any  of 
the  characteristics  that  engender  enthusiasm. 

During  my  last  year  in  college,  one  day  in  the  spring 
of  the  year,  it  must  have  been  as  early  as  March,  for  it 
was  the  time  when  fires  were  very  rare  but  when  it 
was  necessary  to  have  one  occasionally  in  our  rooms,  an 
alarm  of  fire  was  given  in  the  south  college,  and  at 
the  west  end  of  the  south  building,  which  was  three 
stories  high,  the  smoke  was  pouring  out  from  the  top 
of  the  roof.  The  fire-bells  were  rung,  messengers  were 
sent  up-town,  and  we  were  waiting  the  appearance  of 
the   fire-department   with  great   anxiety.       Our  hearts 


112  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

were  breaking  to  see  our  college  on  the  eve  of  being 
destroyed.  We  were  standing  on  the  campus,  with 
our  eyes  and  mouths  wide  open,  wondering  if  the  fire- 
companies  could  not  get  there  sooner,  when  all  at  once 
a  small  man  was  seen  to  emerge  from  the  cupola  on 
the  same  building,  and  to  walk  along  on  the  cone  of 
the  roof,  with  a  bucket  poised  in  each  hand,  deliberately 
walking  to  the  place  where  the  roof  was  on  fire, 
and  from  which  the  smoke  emanated.  He  was  follow- 
ed by  some  colored  men,  and  two  or  three  of  the  stu- 
dents afterward.  When  we  looked  up  and  saw  that 
this  young  man,  Cole,  was  the  organizer  of  this  volun- 
tary little  fire-department  or  brigade,  shouts  of  "hurrah ! " 
rang  out  in  the  wildest  enthusiasm  from  the  boys  who 
stood  on  the  campus  below.  Cole,  by  his  heroism 
and  daring  example  of  courage,  had  saved  the  college 
building,  while  the  rest  of  us  were  standing  idly  on  the 
campus  below  waiting  to  see  it  burn  down.  From 
that  day  Cole  was  a  hero,  and  everybody  admired  and 
loved  him.  He  still  lives  near  Galveston,  Texas,  has 
risen  to  honor  and  eminence  in  his  profession,  that  of 
the  law,  become  the  father  of  a  family,  and  is  greatly 
honored  and  respected  in  the  town  where  he  has  lived 
so  long. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

I  graduate  from  college  and  choose  a  profession — My  father's  disappoint- 
ment— I  begin  the  study  of  medieine — The  masquerade  ball  and 
theatre. 

I  graduated  from  Columbia  College  in  December, 
1832.  I  never  was  remarkable  for  anything  while  I  was 
in  college,  except  good  behavior.  Nobody  ever  ex- 
pected anything  of  me,  and  I  never  expected  anything 
of  myself.  I  felt  real  sorry  that  the  time  was  draw- 
ing near  that  I  would  have  to  assume  the  stern  duties 
and  responsibilities  of  real  life  and  of  manhood.  I 
left  college  with  a  heavy  heart  at  sundering  pleasant 
relations  that  had  existed  between  us  for  at  least  two 
years,  and  returned  to  my  home  in  Lancaster.  When 
I  left,  two  years  before,  it  was  a  happy  home;  when 
I  returned  it  was  a  very  unhappy  one.  My  mother 
had  died  two  months  before  this,  in  October,  1832. 
As  before  related,  my  father  was  left  with  a  large 
family  of  children.  I  was  the  eldest,  and  there  were 
five  boys  and  two  girls — little  children  without  a  moth- 
er. I  was  unhappy  on  another  account.  I  was  dread- 
fully in  love,  was  too  poor  to  talk  about  marriage, 
and   too  young  to   propose  marriage,   for  I  was   only 


Hi  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

twenty  years  of  age.  My  sweetheart  was  having  beans 
from  all  parts  of  the  State,  and  I  feared  that  she 
would  forget  the  attachment  which  had  existed  be- 
tween ns  ever  since  we  were  little  children  at  school. 
Another  great  sonrce  of  unhappiness  to  me  was  the 
fact  that  my  father  wonld  be  disappointed  in  me.  I 
knew  very  well  that  he  had  edncated  me  with  the 
view  of  my  studying  law.  My  mother  hoped  that  I 
would  study  divinity  and  go  into  the  Presbyterian 
ministry.  My  mother  never  knew  the  disappoint- 
ment that  awaited  her,  for  she  died  two  months  before 
I  left  college.  Knowing  how  great  my  fathers  disap- 
pointment would  be,  I  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  him 
on  the  subject  of  studying  a  profession,  and  I  waited 
for  him  to  speak  to  me.  He  was  very  kind  in  allow- 
ing me  a  whole  month's  vacation,  with  nothing  to  do. 
I  grew  very  tired,  and  kept  wishing  every  day  that 
father  would  say  something  to  me  about  going  to 
work. 

At  last  he  said  to  me  one  day,  "Come,  my  boy, 
is  it  not  time  that  you  were  buckling  down  to  profes- 
sional studies  I  n  I  replied,  "  Yes ;  I  have  been  think- 
ing of  it  for  some  time.*'  I  have  been  asked  many 
times  why  I  studied  medicine.  There  was  no  premo- 
nition of  the  traits  of  a  doctor  in  my  career  as  a  young- 
ster ;   but  it  was  simply  in  this  way : 

At  that  day  and  time,  the  only  avenues  open  to  a 
young  man  of  university  education  were  those  of  the 
learned  professions.     A  graduate  of  a  college  had  either 


I  RESOLVE  TO  STUDY  MEDICINE.  115 

to  become  a  lawyer,  go  into  the  church,  or  to  be  a 
doctor.  I  would  not  be  a  lawyer;  I  could  not  be  a 
minister ;  and  there  was  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but 
to  be  a  doctor — to  study  medicine  or  to  disgrace  my 
family ;  for  it  was  generally  thought  that  a  man  who 
had  gone  through  college,  and  came  back  and  settled 
down  as  a  merchant's  clerk,  couldn't  have  had  much 
in  him  if  he  didn't  take  to  a  profession.  So  there  was 
nothing  else  left  for  me  but  to  study  medicine.  One 
day  my  father  said,  "  I  guess  you  had  better  go  down 
and  see  Mr.  Howard  about  your  beginning  your  stud- 
ies with  him." 

I  said :  "  Father,  I  know  that  I  have  been  a  great 
disappointment  to  you.  I  knew  from  the  outset  that 
you  wanted  me  to  become  a  lawyer.  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  be  a  lawyer;  I  have  neither  the  talent 
nor  the  gifts  necessary  for  the  profession.  I  can  not 
enter  Mr.  Howard's  office."  He  said :  "  What  in  the 
world  are  you  going  to  do,  then  ? " 

I  said :  "  If  I  hadn't  gone  to  college  I  know  what 
I  should  have  done.  I  would  have  accepted  Mr.  String- 
fellow's  offer  of  three  hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  gone 
into  his  store  two  years  ago,  and  by  this  time  I  should 
be  getting  five  hundred  dollars  a  year.  But  as  it 
is,  I  suppose  I  must  study  a  profession,  so  long  as  I 
have  had  a  university  education,  and  there  is  nothing 
else  left  for  me  but  the  6tudy  of  medicine,  if  I  must 
take  a  profession." 

He  said  to  me:  "My  son,  I  confess  that  I  am  dis- 


116  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

appointed  in  you,  and  if  I  had  known  this  I  certainly 
should  not  have  sent  you  to  college." 

I  replied:  "I  did  not  want  to  go;  I  knew  that  you 
were  not  able  to  send  me  there,  and  I  knew  that  you 
would  be  disappointed,  and  that  I  should  make  you 
unhappy.  I  am  sure  that  you  are  no  more  unhappy 
about  it  than  I  am  now.  But  if  I  must  study  a  pro- 
fession, there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  but  to 
study  medicine." 

He  replied :  "Well,  I  suppose  that  I  can  not  control 
you ;  but  it  is  a  profession  for  which  I  have  the  ut- 
most contempt.  There  is  no  science  in  it.  There 
is  no  honor  to  be  achieved  in  it ;  no  reputation  to  be 
made,  and  to  think  that  my  son  should  be  going  around 
from  house  to  house  through  this  country,  with  a  box 
of  pills  in  one  hand  and  a  squirt  in  the  other,  to 
ameliorate  human  suffering,  is  a  thought  I  never  sup- 
posed I  should  have  to  contemplate." 

However,  he  told  me  to  go  and  see  Dr.  Churchill 
Jones,  and  make  arrangements  to  study  medicine.  The 
next  morning  I  felt  happily  relieved  at  having  been 
enabled  to  pass  through  that  terrible  ordeal  with  my 
poor  disappointed  father.  I  began  immediately  to  read 
medicine  with  Dr.  Jones.  Dr.  Churchill  Jones  was  a 
man  of  very  great  ability.  The  people  in  the  country 
around  had  very  great  respect  for  and  confidence  in 
him  as  a  physician.  But,  unfortunately,  he  drank. 
That,  for  a  time,  seemed  to  unfit  him  for  the  duties 
of  his    profession.       Besides,  he  had  no  facilities   for 


A  STUDENT  AT  CHARLESTON.  117 

medical  instruction,  for  he  had  few  or  no  books ;  and 
I  read  anatomy,  read  the  practice,  and  all  the  medi- 
cal books  I  could  get  hold  of,  without  any  teacher,  or 
reading  to  any  profit  whatever.  I  was  very  glad  when 
I  was  able  to  leave  his  office,  and  go  to  attend  medi- 
cal lectures.  But  he  was  a  very  great  surgeon,  and 
from  him  I  imbibed  a  desire  to  distinguish  myself  in 
surgery,  if  I  ever  should  become  a  doctor. 

In  November,  I  left  home  for  Charleston,  where 
I  was  to  attend  medical  lectures,  and  to  take  a  course 
in  the  medical  school  there.  I  arrived  there  on  the 
12th  of  November,  1833.  I  began  the  study  of  medi- 
cine on  the  —  day  of  February,  1833,  with  Dr.  Jones. 
I  remember  the  date  very  well,  because,  I  stopped  at 
Miott's  hotel,  and  I  remember  the  day  of  the  month 
when  I  arrived  there  so  accurately,  because,  when  I 
arose  the  next  morning,  everybody  was  talking  about 
the  falling  stars,  which  exhibition  had  occurred  just 
before  day  on  the  13th  of  November.  I  was  always 
provoked  that  I  was  such  a  profound  sleeper  that  I 
was  not  up  to  see  this  wonderful  display  of  Nature's 
fire-works.  The  Charleston  Medical  School  was  opened 
a  very  few  days  after  my  arrival.  Dr.  Samuel  Hen- 
ry Dickson  was  the  Professor  of  Theory  and  Prac- 
tice of  Medicine.  I  well  remember  the  introductory 
lecture ;  it  was  a  brilliant  effort,  and  I  never  heard 
such  eloquence  from  a  teacher's  desk.  He  was  a  small 
man,  very  handsome,  with  a  sweet,  musical  voice ;  a 
man   of  great  literary  acquirements,   a   fluent   speaker, 


118  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

logical  in  his  reasoning,  convincing  in  his  argument, 
and  most  captivating  in  his  manner.  But  as  a  practi- 
cal teacher  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  learned  much 
from  him.  The  purity  of  his  diction,  and  the  elo- 
quence of  his  discourse,  and  the  beauty  of  his  teaching 
captivated  the  ear,  so  that  I  was  carried  away  entirely 
from  the  substance  of  what  he  attempted  to  instill  in- 
to my  mind.  Wagner  was  Professor  of  Surgery.  Hol- 
brook  was  Professor  of  Anatomy,  and  he  was  a  great 
teacher.  He  had  but  one  equal,  I  think,  as  a  teacher 
of  anatomy,  and  that  was  Ballou,  of  Jefferson  Medical 
College.  I  was  diligent  in  my  studies,  and  I  felt  that, 
as  I  had  failed  in  my  duty  as  a  student  in  my  col- 
lege course  at  Columbia,  the  responsibility  of  life  was 
now  doubly  on  me,  and  weighed  heavily  upon  my 
shoulders.  I  felt  that  I  had  to  prepare  for  a  period 
that  I  looked  forward  to  not  with  pleasurable  antici- 
pations but  with  dread.  Most  of  the  young  men  that 
I  had  associated  with  all  my  life,  from  ten  years  old 
upward  had  looked  forward  to  manhood  with  joy  and 
satisfaction ;  but  with  me,  it  was  exactly  the  reverse. 
I  was  afraid  to  be  a  man;  I  was  afraid  to  assume  its 
responsibilities,  and  thought  that  I  did  not  have  sense 
enough  to  go  out  into  the  rough  world,  making  a  liv- 
ing as  other  men  had  to  do.  I  was  small  in  stature, 
and  I  did  not  feel  that  I  had  intellect  enough  to  grap- 
ple with  or  to  pit  myself  against  such  opposition  as 
I  should  encounter  in  my  life. 

I  said  before,  that   when   I   went   to  Charleston   I 


COLLEGE  EXPERIENCES.  HO 

went  to  work  in  real  earnest.  I  worked  diligently ;  I 
attended  lectures,  earnestly  taking  notes  of  what  I  saw 
and  heard.  I  worked  in  the  dead-house  with  interest. 
It  was  fascinating,  and  besides  I  derived  a  practical 
knowledge  from  it  which  I  could  appreciate,  and  could 
understand,  and  carry  away,  and  know  that  I  was  doing 
something  toward  laying  deeper  the  foundation  for 
knowledge  to  come.  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet 
my  old  friend  Dick  Baker  there  as  a  fellow-student. 
He  had  been  in  college  with  me,  and  had  graduated 
the  year  before  me.  He  was  my  senior  in  college 
by  a  year.  He  was  a  jolly,  companionable  fellow,  and 
one  of  the  best  of  men;  always  in  good  humor,  al- 
ways had  something  funny  to  say,  and  was  full  of  wit. 
We  worked  hard  all  the  week,  and  usually  went  on  a 
frolic  somewhere  or  somehow  on  Saturday  night,  or 
went  to  the  theatre.  One  Sunday  he  asked  me  to  go 
sailing  with  him  over  to  Sullivan's  Island.  He  said 
he  had  hired  a  boat  and  a  man  to  sail  it.  He  said 
that  we  would  sail  over  there,  and  walk  about  the 
beautiful  island,  and  look  at  the  great  sea,  and  pick 
up  shells  on  the  shore,  and  spend  a  quiet  day,  and 
come  back  in  the  afternoon.  I  was  afraid  of  the  sea 
when  I  was  a  young  man,  but  I  had  never  seen  it  be- 
fore. I  was  afraid  of  little  boats.  However,  he  said 
there  was  no  danger.  We  got  into  the  little  boat, 
the  man  raised  his  sail,  and  in  the  course  of  an  hour 
or  so  we  were  at  Sullivan's  Island,  a  distance  of  five 
miles.      We  loitered  around  for  an  hour  or  two,  and 


120  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

in  fact  several  hours,  and  talked  over  old  times,  our 
prospects  in  life,  and  the  preparation  for  its  great  du- 
ties. By  and  by  it  was  time  to  return  home,  and  so 
we  got  into  our  boat  and  started  again  for  the  city. 
When  within  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  city, 
we  looked  off  to  the  south  and  to  the  left,  and  I  saw 
a  little  ripple  on  the  sea,  and  I  said,  "  Oh,  see  that 
beautiful  sea ;  how  pretty  it  is,  and  the  water  is  agi- 
tated over  here  to  our  left ! "  He  said,  u  Yes,  that  is 
very  pretty."  The  words  had  hardly  left  my  mouth 
before  a  squall  struck  us,  and  the  boat  was  soon  bot- 
tom side  up  in  the  water.  I  could  not  swim  a  stroke, 
and  never  could,  and  of  course  I  shall  not  learn  now. 
I  was  very  much  alarmed,  for  there  we  were,  with 
the  little  vessel  on  its  beam-ends,  and  we  climbing  on 
the  side  of  it.  Of  course,  I  thought  all  was  lost,  and 
I  expected  the  water  would  rush  into  the  hold,  and  all 
would  be  lost,  and  that  the  vessel  would  sink,  and 
where  should  I  be  ?  The  vessel  seemed  to  be  held 
down  by  the  jib-boom,  and  still  it  was  under  water. 
The  sailor  took  out  his  knife  and  cut  the  cords  that 
held  this  jib-sail,  and  let  it  drop  into  the  water,  and  the 
little  vessel  righted  itself,  and  we  got  safely  to  land. 
This  was  an  adventure  that  frightened  me  so  much 
that  I  have  never  recovered  from  it  to  this  day.  Noth- 
ing would  induce  me  to  cross  the  Hudson  JRiver  in  a 
little  boat,  either  a  sail  or  row  boat.  I  do  not  mind 
crossing  the  ocean  in  a  big  magnificent  steamer,  and 
I  never  felt   afraid ;    but   when  you   come   to   a   little 


AN  ADVENTURE.  121 

sail-boat  or  row-boat,  I  certainly  would  not  risk  my 
life  in  one  of  them  on  any  account. 

I  have  always  said  that  my  friend  Dick  Baker 
was  full  of  frolic  and  fun,  and  so  he  got  me  into  a 
dilemma,  only  two  or  three  days  before  we  left  Charles- 
ton for  our  homes.  He  came  to  me  one  day  and 
said,  "See  here,  Marion,  there's  to  be  a  masquerade 
ball  at  Fayall's  ball-room  next  Saturday  night,  and 
I  tell  you  I  want  you  to  go  with  me.  I  will  go  as 
a  country  wagoner  just  come  to  town,  and  you  will 
go  with  me  as  my  daughter." 

I  said,  "  Dick,  that  won't  do,  for  I  am  afraid  it 
will  be  discovered.  I  don't  want  to  put  on  girl's 
clothes  and  do  that." 

"  Oh,  well, "  he  said,  "  but  it  is  a  masquerade,  and 
you  have  a  right  to  do  as  you  please,  so  long  as  it's 
a  masquerade,  and  while  they  all  have  on  masks.  I 
will  play  my  whip  and  flourish  it  around,  and  play 
that  I'm  a  country  wagoner." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  about  the  clothes  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  that  is  easy  enough,"  he  replied ;  "  you  never 
mind  about  that,  for  I  have  cousins  here  in  the  city, 
and  I  can  get  the  clothes  from  them.  You  will  go  as 
a  country  lassie,  and  you  will  make  a  capital  one,  too." 

After  some  further  conversation,  I  agreed  to  go, 
and  the  time  for  the  start  was  also  fixed  upon.  So 
he  went  to  see  his  cousins,  and  got  some  dresses,  and 
a  set  of  ear-rings,  which  were  tied  on  to  my  ears  with 
strings,  and  I  was  dressed  up  in  the  most  outlandish 


122  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LITE; 

and  fantastic  way  that  you  can  imagine.  I  wore  a 
turban  to  hide  my  short  hair,  and  the  ear-rings  dan- 
gled nearly  down  to  my  shoulders.  I  was  dressed  in  a 
fashion  altogether  peculiar  and  unlike  anything  of  the 
kind  1  had  ever  seen  before.  When  the  hour  for  the 
ball  came,  we  marched  down  to  Fayall's.  There  had 
been  a  very  hard  and  severe  rain  that  afternoon,  and 
Mr.  Fayall,  thinking  that  the  rain  was  to  continue  un- 
til into  the  night,  had  put  up  a  notice  on  the  door 
saying  that  the  masquerade  ball  was  postponed  indefi- 
nitely on  account  of  the  rain.  Dick  was  despondent; 
but  I  said  I  was  glad  of  it,  and  that  I  was  out  of  the 
scrape ;  and  besides,  I  had  had  enough  of  this  sort  of 
sport.  We  accordingly  started  for  my  boarding-house. 
As  we  walked  along  Queen  Street,  Dick  brightened  up, 
and  he  said :  "  By  George !  I  have  an  idea.  Let's  go 
to  the  theatre.  That  is  the  thing.  We  will  certainly 
have  this  frolic  out,  for  there  is  no  telling  if  we  will 
ever  have  another  chance.  Nobody  will  know  but 
that  you  are  a  country  girl,  and  I  am  big  enough  and 
ugly  enough  to  pass  for  a  country  farmer." 

In  an  unlucky  moment  I  said,  "  Well,  we  will  go." 
Dick  bought  the  tickets,  and  we  started  up  into  the 
gallery.     I  said : 

"  Dick,  I  must  insist  that  we  sit  on  the  back  seat, 
for  I  am  dressed  in  such  an  outlandish  and  awkward 
way  that  we  might  be  discovered,  and  it  would  sound 
rather  bad  to  be  carried  before  the  police  in  the  morn- 
ing, and   have  it  known  that  two  young  medical  stu- 


IN  DISGUISE  AT  THE  THEATRE.  123 

dents   were    arrested,   and    one   of  them    in   woman's 
clothes  at  that." 

He  said,  "  You  shall  sit  just  wdiere  you  please." 
So  we  went  up- stairs.  To  my  horror,  the  house  was 
brilliantly  illuminated.  At  least,  I  thought  that  I  had 
-never  seen  anything  like  it.  When  we  were  about 
to  enter  the  compartment  that  we  had  been  directed 
to  by  the  usher,  I  wanted  to  sit  on  the  back  seat. 
But  the  Southern  people  are  exceedingly  courteous, 
especially  to  the  ladies,  and  so  they  insisted  on  our 
taking  a  front  seat  whether  we  wanted  to  or  not. 
They  differ  from  us  here  at  the  North  in  that  respect. 
Two  young  gentlemen  on  the  front  seat  arose  and 
said  to  Dick :  "  Here,  sir,  is  a  seat  for  yourself  and  your 
lady."  There  was  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  com- 
ply, and  so  to  the  front  seat  we  went,  they  having 
made  room  for  us  two.  Both  took  me  by  the  arm, 
and  one  said,  "  Miss,  will  you  have  a  front  seat  ? "  and 
the  other  said,  "  Miss,  have  this  front  seat  ? "  I  blushed 
and  said,  "I  thank  you,  I  can't  sit  on  the  front 
seat ; "  I  insisted  on  sitting  on  the  back  seat,  and  every- 
body insisted  that  I  should  sit  on  the  front  seat,  and 
that  with  so  much  of  earnestness  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  do  anything  else  but  comply.  So  I  took  my 
seat  in  the  gallery,  and  in  an  instant  every  opera- 
glass  in  that  theatre  was  leveled  at  me,  and  not  on 
the  play,  until  I  was  nearly  crazed.  My  condition 
was  not  pleasant,  and  I  was  very  unhappy,  and  I  said, 
"Dick,  for   God's   sake,   take   me   out   of  here."      He 


124  THE  STOEY  OP  MY  LIFE. 

thought  it  was  the  greatest  joke  that  he  had  ever 
seen  or  heard  of  in  this  world.  I  shall  never  for- 
get that  play — it  was  "  The  Lady  of  Lyons  "  ;  nor  shall 
I  ever  forget  how  the  beautiful  women  of  Charleston 
stared  at  the  strange  bird  sitting  in  the  balcony  with 
the  countryman,  Dick  Baker. 

After  we  had  been  there  about  half  an  hour,  Abram 
Mc Willie,  who  was  a  class-mate  of  ours  in  Columbia 
College,  and  whom  we  hadn't  seen  since  we  left  there, 
entered,  and  took  a  seat  by  me.  He  looked  over  and 
saw  Dick  Baker,  and  they  had  a  hearty  shaking  of 
hands.  Baker  asked  him  many  questions,  and  talked 
about  old  times,  and  I  sat  there  looking  dignified, 
though  he  was  one  of  my  warmest  and  best  of  friends. 
Now,  in  another  character  he  did  not  know  me,  and 
so  he  did  not  speak  to  me,  nor  I  to  him.  Dick  en- 
joyed the  joke  as  long  as  he  could  possibly  do  it, 
and   then  he   said: 

"  Abe,  old  fellow,  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  your 
old  friend,  Marion  Sims." 

Abe  raised  both  hands,  and  he  said,  "  My  God ! " 
and  then  he  became  very  confidential,  and  I  said : 

"  Abe,  it  isn't  proper,  when  you  are  introduced  to 
a  young  lady,  to  become  so  intimate  on  short  acquaint- 
ance and  all  at  once.  You  are  entirely  too  confiden- 
tial. Just  look  at  all  these  opera-glasses  leveled  on 
us.  Now,  if  you  felt  as  unhappy  as  I  do,  you  would 
be  making  tracks  out  of  this  place  very  soon." 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  these  two  old  friends  of  mine 


DICK  BAKER.  125 

kept  me  there  in  durance  vile  till  the  theatre  was 
dismissed  and  the  curtain  fell.  I  was  not  happy  un- 
til I  got  safely  home  to  my  quarters,  for  every  min- 
ute I  expected  that  I  should  be  taken  up  by  the  po- 
lice, and  carried  before  the  court  the  next  day  for 
appearing  in  public  in  women's  clothes.  I  have  never 
seen  Dick  Baker  from  that  day  to  this.  He  studied 
medicine,  graduated  with  honor,  returned  to  his  na- 
tive place  in  Sumter,  South  Carolina,  got-  married,  was 
very  successful  as  a  physician,  and  filled  an  important 
station  in  life.  He  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age,  and  spent 
a  useful  and  profitable  life. 


CHAPTEE  YIH 

Attending  lectures — I  start  for  Philadelphia  and  enter  Jefferson  Medical 
College — Small-pox  among  the  students — Professor  McClellan — Pro- 
fessor Patterson — I  graduate. 

The  day  after  I  arrived  in  Charleston  I  started 
out  in  search  of  a  boarding-house.  I  was  directed  to 
Mrs.  Murden's,  in  Society  Street,  where  I  had  a  com- 
fortable room  and  excellent  board  at  a  reasonable  price, 
and  a  happy  home  during  my  winter's  sojourn  in 
Charleston.  Mrs.  Murden  was  a  poetess,  and  an  enthu- 
siast about  everything  that  she  undertook.  She  had 
four  beautiful  daughters  —  Malvena,  Octavia,  Yaleria, 
and  Rosaline — all  of  them  highly  educated  and  very 
accomplished  young  ladies.  They  had  a  school,  and 
were  patronized  by  the  aristocrats  of  the  city.  The 
school  is  in  existence  even  to  this  day,  and  one  of  the 
young  ladies  is  still  devoting  her  life  to  the  work  of 
teaching  her  young  countrywomen.  She  alone  is  left 
of  all  the  family.  Mrs.  Murden  was  a  very  peculiar 
woman.  If  she  had  lived  in  this  day  and  time,  how  she 
would  have  enjoyed  life.  I  remember  well  with  what 
eagerness  she  always  looked  for  the  morning  papers. 


A  TASTE  FOR  HORRORS.  127 

The  first  thing  she  looked  for  was  the  column  of  deaths, 
which  she  gloated  over  and  discussed  thoroughly.  Then 
she  looked  for  the  horrors,  like  shipwrecks  and  murders, 
and  accidents  of  all  kinds  by  sea  and  land,  and  all  the 
other  terrible  things  of  which  life  is  made  up  and  in 
danger  of.  The  list  seemed  to  give  her  food  for  con- 
templation, and  she  really  enjoyed  the  horrors  that  oc- 
curred around  her  every  day.  In  this  day  and  time, 
when  we  have  all  the  horrors  and  horrible  things 
occurring  in  every  section  of  the  great  globe  brought  to 
the  very  doors  of  everybody,  and  all  centered  in  one 
small  column,  it  would  have  been  food  for  Mrs.  Mur- 
den  for  a  whole  week.  I  was  very  happy  in  the  Mur- 
den  family.  I  worked  hard,  and  if  I  ever  had  a  spare 
hour  it  was  given  to  a  game  of  chess  with  one  of  the 
young  ladies. 

During  this  term  of  lectures  at  Charleston  Medical 
College,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Ben  Eobinson,  of 
Fayetteville,  North  Carolina,  and  we  became  very  inti- 
mate. We  agreed  then  that  we  would  go  to  Philadel- 
phia for  our  next  course  of  lectures,  and  we  were  to 
meet  the  next  October  at  Jefferson  Medical  College,  and 
there  work  for  graduation.  About  the  last  of  February 
the  lecture  term  at  Charleston  was  concluded,  and  I  re- 
turned again  to  my  home  in  Lancaster,  where  I  resumed 
my  studies  with  my  old  friend  and  preceptor  Dr. 
Churchill  Jones.  I  got  through  the  summer  as  well  as 
I  could,  but  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  learn  any- 
thing, except  when  he  took  me  out  to  see  some  surgi- 


128  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

cal  operation,  and  then  I  felt  that  I  had  carried  away 
with  me  something  that  would  be  of  profit  to  me  in 
after-life. 

One  night  I  was  dissecting  alone  in  the  dissecting- 
room,  where  there  were  ten  or  twelve  dead  bodies  on 
as  many  tables.  I  had  found  an  anomalous  distribution 
of  the  tracheal  artery,  and  was  anxious  to  trace  it  out. 
I  had  but  a  single  candle.  There  was  no  other  light  in 
the  room.  I  told  Robert,  the  supervisor  of  the  dissect- 
ing-room, not  to  wait  for  me.  I  happened  to  knock  the 
candle  over,  and  I  was  in  the  dark  and  had  no  matches. 
So  I  was  obliged  to  desist  from  my  work.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  anything,  but  I  must  confess  that  I  did  not 
feel  very  comfortable  as  I  threaded  my  way  out  in 
search  of  the  door  of  exit. 

And  this  reminds  me  of  a  similar  experience  of  my 
friend  "Williams  Sims  Reynolds,  of  Charleston,  when  he 
was  a  medical  student  there  in  1832.  He  was  alone,  at 
ten  o'clock  at  night,  dissecting  the  parts  concerned  in 
an  inguinal  hernia. 

A  dissecting- table  is  about  six  feet  long,  and  twenty 
inches  wide,  and  thirty  inches  high. 

To  dissect  the  muscles  of  the  abdomen,  we  place  a 
billet  of  wood  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  long  and  ten 
inches  in  diameter  under  the  loins.  This  renders  the 
muscles  of  the  abdomen  tense  and  prominent.  This  is 
increased  by  drawing  the  subject  down  toward  the  lower 
end  of  the  table,  so  as  to  let  the  legs  and  thighs  gravitate 
toward  the  floor,  while  the  body  is  held  firmly  in  place 


INCIDENT  IN  A  DISSECTING-ROOM.  129 

by  a  chain  a  yard  long  with  a  hook  at  each  end.  One 
hook  is  hitched  into  the  scalp  of  the  subject,  and  the 
other  is  hooked  over  the  upper  end  of  the  table.  If  the 
hook  should  break  loose  the  body  would,  by  the  weight 
of  the  legs,  shoot  over  the  lower  end  of  the  table.  Rey- 
nolds's only  candle  was  necessarily  resting  on  the  epigas- 
tric region  of  the  subject.  He  had  been  at  work  all  the 
evening  on  the  right  inguinal  ring.  He  started  to  pass 
round  the  lower  end  of  the  table  for  some  purpose,  when 
he  ran  against  the  subject's  projecting  legs.  This  jostled 
the  body  so  as  to  knock  loose  the  chain  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  table,  whereupon  the  body,  having  the  roller  billet 
of  wood  under  the  back,  was,  by  the  weight  of  the 
lower  limbs,  suddenly  jerked  to  the  floor  in  the  upright 
posture,  and  its  arms  were  forcibly  thrown  over  Rey- 
nolds's shoulders.  The  light  was  of  course  put  out.  I 
think  I  should  have  left  that  body  to  the  force  of  grav- 
ity. But  Reynolds  took  it  under  the  arms  and  replaced 
it  on  the  table. 

The  last  of  September  (1834)  I  started  for  Philadel- 
phia. It  took  a  whole  week  to  go  from  Lancaster  to 
Philadelphia.  We  had  to  stage  it  the  whole  of  the  way, 
over  the  mountains  of  Virginia.  Arriving  in  Philadel- 
phia, I  soon  met  a  number  of  young  gentlemen  from  the 
South,  students  there,  and  they  were  all  very  clannish. 
They  readily  got  acquainted,  and  stuck  to  each  other. 
The  first  boarding-house  I  got  into  was  just  opposite  the 
Jefferson  Medical  College.  I  paid  $4  a  week,  which  was 
very  cheap ;  but,  really,  the  living  was  excessively  poor, 


130  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LITE. 

and  I  came  very  near  starving.  After  a  while,  I  got 
acquainted  with  a  young  fellow  named  Krenshaw,  from 
Wake  Forest,  North  Carolina.  He  was  a  very  eccentric 
fellow,  as  green  as  cheese,  and  as  good  as  gold.  He  was  a 
great  Baptist,  and  made  many  friends  among  that  denom- 
ination and  in  that  church,  among  them  a  young  medical 
student,  named  Roberts,  who  lived  near  Sixth  Street ; 
and  whose  mother,  who  had  married  a  second  time,  was 
the  wife  of  Dr.  Lewis  Roberts,  got  acquainted  with  Kren- 
shaw through  the  Baptist  church.  Then  Roberts  told 
him  of  a  Miss  Edmunds's  school  for  young  girls,  in  San- 
som  Street,  just  opposite  the  church.  He  said  that  she 
had  some  vacancies,  and  would  take  a  few  medical  stu- 
dents as  boarders.  Krenshaw  went  to  Miss  Edmunds's, 
was  delighted  with  the  place,  and,  when  he  found  out 
that  I  was  starving  in  a  little  house  just  opposite  the 
college,  he  kindly  offered  to  introduce  me  to  Miss  Ed- 
munds, which  he  did,  and  I  engaged  board  there  with 
her.  I  was  very  glad,  indeed,  to  make  the  change,  and 
Miss  Edmunds  was  enabled  to  give  me  a  very  good 
room,  and  one  for  my  friend,  Mr.  Rush  Jones,  of  Lan- 
caster, who  was  soon  to  be  there.  As  far  as  our  board- 
ing-house was  concerned,  I  was  perfectly  happy.  There 
was  plenty  to  eat,  we  had  a  good  room  to  sleep  in,  and 
everything  bright  and  cheerful.  At  breakfast  and  din- 
ner-time there  were  three  or  four  pretty  girls  to  talk  to, 
and  I  do  not  think  that  a  set  of  young  men  ever  at- 
tended lectures  at  Jefferson  Medical  College,  that  win- 
ter  at  least,  who  were  more  fortunately  situated  than 


SMALL-POX.  131 

we  were.  Miss  Edmunds  was  an  old  lady,  a  good  deal 
the  other  side  of  fifty,  and  had  taught  school  all  the  days 
of  her  life.  She  was  a  charming  woman,  and  a  good 
mother  to  all  of  us.  She  was  devoted  to  her  pastor,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Gillette,  father  of  the  present  distinguished 
Dr.  Gillette  of  New  York.  Dr.  Gillette  was  the  pastor 
of  the  Circular  Church,  which  is  now  a  livery  stable,  in 
Sansom  Street.  Miss  Edmunds  used  to  marshal  us  all 
to  church  there  every  Sunday  morning. 

During  my  stay  in  Philadelphia  a  most  unfortunate 
thing  occurred,  resulting  in  the  death  of  some  of  the 
students.  A  subject  who  had  been  brought  into  the 
dissecting-room  had  died  of  small-pox,  and  I  do  not 
know  how  many  of  the  students  contracted  small-pox 
from  it.  Two  or  three  of  them  died;  among  them 
a  handsome  young  fellow  from  Alabama  by  the  name 
of  Lucas.  I  got  acquainted  with  Lucas  soon  after  lect- 
ures began.  We  became  good  friends,  and  he  knew 
many  persons  that  I  knew  in  his  section,  and  he  had 
family  connections  in  South  Carolina-  When  Lucas  was 
taken  sick  we  missed  him  at  lectures,  and  I  immediately 
went  to  his  boarding-house  to  inquire  what  was  the 
matter  with  him.  I  found  him  very  ill,  and  I  went 
there  to  nurse  him  at  night.  I  sat  up  with  him,  night 
after  night,  not  having  the  remotest  idea  of  what  was 
the  matter  with  him.  He  was  very  ill,  and  one  night 
I  sent  for  Professor  Patterson,  who  was  attending  him, 
to  come  and  see  him.  When  Professor  Patterson  came, 
he  examined  the  patient  carefully,  and   prescribed  for 


132  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LITE. 

hiin,  and  I  said :  "  Dr.  Patterson,  what  is  the  matter 
with  my  young  friend  Lucas  ?  " 

Dr.  Patterson  replied  :  "  Why,  he  has  the  small-pox, 
and  he  is  going  to  die  to-night.  I  thought  you  were  ac- 
quainted with  what  was  the  matter  with  him." 

"  My  God,  small-pox  !  "  I  said.  "  I  have  never  been 
vaccinated  ;  I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever  been  vac- 
cinated in  all  my  life !  "  So  I  hurried  around  to  Dr. 
George  McClellan  to  be  vaccinated.  I  was  very  much 
alarmed  at  having  been  in  a  room  with  a  small-pox 
patient.  I  found  him  at  home,  and  told  him  what  had 
happened.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  never  been  vaccinated, 
and  I  said  I  had  not  been. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  "  pull  off  your  coat  and  roll 
up  your  sleeves."  He  was  about  to  scratch  my  arm  with 
his  lancet,  when  he  said,  "  You  have  as  fine  a  mark  on 
your  arm  as  there  is  on  any  fellow's  arm  in  the  whole 
college." 

I  said,  "  I  have  been  vaccinated,  surely,"  and  there, 
sure  enough,  was  the  mark.  "  Come  to  think  of  it,  now 
I  remember  all  about  it.  I  remember  a  little  epidemic 
of  small-pox  in  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  in  1831,  three 
years  ago.  At  that  time  I  met  Mr.  Gladney,  one  of  the 
honor-men  of  his  class  (1831)  on  the  college  campus,  and 
he  said  to  me,  'Do  you  know  there  is  small-pox  in 
town  ? '  I  said  I  did  not.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  been 
vaccinated,  and  I  said  that  I  had  not.  So  I  went  into 
his  room  and  he  had  a  fresh  pustule,  and  he  said,  *  It  is 
just  right  for  the  work,  and  I  know  just  how  to  do  it.' 


DEATH  OF  YOUNG  LUCAS.  133 

He  scratched  my  arm,  and  put  in  some  virus.  It  went 
through  the  several  stages  to  maturation ;  but  it  made  so 
little  impression  on  me  that  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it, 
from  the  time  it  was  done  until  now,  and  I  did  not  re- 
member that  it  had  ever  been  done.  But  for  that,  of 
course,  I  should  have  been  in  very  great  danger  from 
having  attended  my  friend  Lucas  so  long."  My  friend 
Lucas  died  that  night,  his  death  creating  a  great  com- 
motion among  the  students ;  but  none  of  them  left. 
Every  man  stuck  to  his  post,  and  attended  to  his  duties. 
I  had  always  passed  for  more  than  I  was  worth.  My 
young  friends  commonly  thought  I  had  more  talent  than 
I  possessed,  and  gave  me  credit  for  more  than  I  de- 
served. At  Charleston,  when  the  class  was  about  to 
break  up  and  separate,  the  students  held  a  meeting,  at 
which  I  was  not  present,  and  knew  nothing  of.  They 
appointed  a  committee  to  select  a  class  valedictorian.  I 
do  not  think  that  I  ever  was  so  surprised  in  my  life  as  I 
was  when  that  committee  called  on  me  and  said  they 
wanted  to  have  me  deliver  that  valedictory  address.  I 
declined,  of  course.  So  when  young  Lucas  died,  and 
there  were  two  or  three  other  young  men  who  also  died 
of  small-pox  from  the  college,  in  January,  1835,  the  stu- 
dents held  a  meeting  and  appointed  a  committee  to  select 
a  eulogist  in  commemoration  of  the  young  men  who  had 
died.  Again,  to  my  surprise,  the  surprise  of  my  life,  of 
the  three  or  four  hundred  young  gentlemen  students 
there,  the  committee  waited  on  me  and  requested  me  to 
perform  that  office.     In  both  these  instances,  feeling  my 


134  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

*■* 

incompetency  for  such  a  thing,  I  had  the  good  sense  and 
courage  to  decline  the  proffered  honor. 

Miss  Edmunds  was  always  fond  of  telling  anecdotes, 
and  I  liked  to  hear  her  tell  them.  I  always  managed  to 
have  her  tell  them  when  I  had  invited  any  of  my  young 
friends  to  come  there  to  take  tea  with  me.  One  I  espe- 
cially liked  to  hear  her  tell,  and  it  was  this :  She  said  that 
when  her  mother  was  about  seventy  years  of  age  they 
lived  in  North  Sixth  Street.  Her  mother  and  her  aunt 
were  often  in  the  habit,  Sunday  evenings,  of  going 
around  and  visiting  her  brother,  who  lived  in  Second 
Street,  four  blocks  away,  and  not  far  north  of  Walnut 
Street.  One  evening,  about  ten  o'clock,  these  two  old 
ladies,  Mrs.  Edmunds  and  her  sister,  expected  a  nephew 
to  come  and  walk  home  with  them.  The  young  man  did 
not  come,  and  the  servants  having  retired,  there  was  no 
one  to  accompany  them  home.  At  last  they  said, 
"  We  should  know  that  we  can  go  by  ourselves,  for 
our  age  will  protect  us."  So  the  two  old  ladies  started 
out  by  themselves.  They  were  two  very  delicate,  dried- 
up  specimens  of  women,  and  in  the  darkness  they  looked 
like  girls  more  than  they  did  like  grown  women.  The 
houses  in  that  part  of  the  city  were  quite  far  apart, 
and  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  they  were  some- 
what afraid  to  go  out  at  night  all  alone.  Besides,  the 
neighborhood  was  infested  by  sailors  and  roughs.  They 
hadn't  gone  twenty  steps  from  their  brother's  house 
before  they  were  accosted  by  two  sailors.  It  was  before 
the  days  of  gas,  and  the  streets  were  lighted  by  misera- 


PROFESSOR  McCLELLAN.  135 

ble  lamps,  which  never  threw  a  particle  of  light  across 
the  street.  When  they  were  accosted  by  these  two  sail- 
ors, the  fellows  began  to  make  violent  love  to  them. 
They  both  cried  out,  for  they  were  sorely  frightened, 
"  We  are  not  young  women ;  we  are  both  old  women." 
But  the  sailors  replied,  by  way  of  jest :  "  Yes,  we  under- 
stand that :  we  have  heard  the  same  kind  of  talk  before. 
We  know  old  women  from  young  women  at  any  time." 
So  each  one  grasped  a  woman,  and  one  of  them  took  his 
under  his  arm  and  running  with  his  trophy  across  the 
street,  held  her  face  up  to  the  dim  lamp-light.  Seeing 
his  mistake,  he  shouted  out  to  his  companion,  "  Patrick, 
you  may  drop  yours,  surely,  because  the  one  I  have  is  as 
old  and  as  ugly  as  the  very  divil ! "  Thus  they  escaped 
from  their  captors  and,  frightened  almost  to  death,  hur- 
ried on  their  way  home. 

In  Jefferson  Medical  College,  and  a  great  gun,  was  the 
famous  McClellan.  He  was  a  great  surgeon,  and  he  was 
a  man  as  well.  He  was  very  eccentric  and  erratic  as  a 
teacher.  His  delivery  was  very  spasmodic,  but  he  talked 
sense  all  the  time.  JSTot  that  he  had  much  system,  but 
whatever  he  said  was  to  the  point ;  it  was  practical — it 
was  teaching — it  was  a  thing  that  one  could  carry  home 
and  remember  always.  At  the  time  I  was  a  student  in 
Jefferson  College,  the  distinguished  General  George  B. 
McClellan  was  a  little  boy,  four  or  five  years  old.  I 
have  often  reminded  him  of  the  time,  which  he  could 
not  remember.  I  used  to  pat  him  on  the  head,  and  give 
him  six-pences  to  buy  ginger-bread  and  taffy  with. 


136  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Professor  McClellan  frequently  honored  me  by  an 
invitation  to  assist  him  in  surgical  operations,  and  I  re- 
member one  very  remarkable  case  on  which  he  operated. 
It  created  a  great  sensation  at  the  time.  It  was  a  case  in 
which  he  exsected  a  portion  of  a  necrosed  rib,  without 
injury  to  the  pleural  cavity  He  talked  to  the  patient  all 
the  time  of  his  operation,  for  it  was  before  the  days  of 
ansesthetics,  and  when  it  required  great  nerve  to  be  a 
good  surgeon.  He  would  gouge  and  chisel  and  work 
away,  and  say  to  the  man,  "  Courage,  my  brave  fellow, 
courage  ;  we  wound  but  to  heal.  It  will  soon  be  over." 
Then  he  would  work  away  again,  and  again  he  would 
cheer  up  the  patient,  by  saying,  "  Courage,  my  good  fel- 
low ;  be  brave,  for  we  wound  but  to  heal ;  it  will  soon  be 
over.     Courage,  my  dear  fellow  ;  it  will  soon  be  over." 

He  was  a  great  teacher,  a  great  surgeon,  and  a  great 
man  ;  and  he  was  the  founder  of  Jefferson  Medical  Col- 
lege. He  died  comparatively  young,  and  left  a  reputa- 
tion that  is  imperishable. 

In  1847  McClellan  left  home  one  bright  May  morn- 
ing to  make  his  daily  rounds.  He  walked  erect  along 
Chestnut  Street,  seemingly  full  of  health  and  vigor, 
going  from  house  to  house  to  see  his  patients,  while  his 
coachman  drove  leisurely  along,  waiting  wherever  his 
master  entered.  Soon  he  was  seen  slowly  descending 
the  steps  of  a  marble  mansion  bent  over  with  agonizing 
pain.  He  entered  his  carriage  and  was  driven  rapidly 
home.  His  medical  advisers  were  summoned.  In  a  few 
hours  he  was  in  collapse,  and  in  sixteen  he  was  dead. 


PROFESSOR  PATTERSON.  137 

He  died  of  perforation  of  the  bowel  just  below  the 
sigmoid  flexure.  The  cause  of  death  was  septicaemia 
and  shock.  And  thus  passed  away  one  of  the  great  sur- 
geons of  the  age. 

Professor  Patterson  was  the  best  lecturer  on  anatomy 
then  living.  The  next  best  to  him  was  Hurlburt,  of  the 
Charleston  College.  It  made  no  odds  what  the  sub- 
ject was,  the  student  was  always  chained  to  it  as 
long  as  he  chose  to  speak.  We  never  tired  of  his  en- 
thusiasm or  his  eloquence.  He  had  one  yery  bad  habit, 
a  dreadful  peculiarity  and  a  disagreeable  one,  especially 
for  those  who  occupied  the  front  seats.  When  he  be- 
came very  enthusiastic,  and  went  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  his  eloquence,  he  would  forget  himself  and  all  around 
him,  and  would  splutter  and  slobber  and  spit,  the  saliva 
flying  in  every  direction,  so  that  those  who  sat  within  a 
yard  of  him  would  be  spattered  all  over.  Of  course  the 
young  gentlemen  were  too  polite  to  say  anything,  and 
they  would  wipe  off  the  drops  from  their  faces  when  he 
was  so  earnestly  teaching  them  and  so  eloquently  dis- 
coursing to  them.  Every  man  in  whose  face  he  would 
happen  to  splutter  his  saliva  would  watch,  before  he 
passed  the  amphitheatre,  before  raising  his  handkerchief 
to  wipe  it  off. 

Patterson  was  very  kind  to  the  students,  and  always 
managed  to  help  them  out  of  their  scrapes.  He  lent 
them  money,  and  patronized  them  in  every  way  that 
he  could.  He  was  a  father  to  the  students,  and  sympa- 
thized with  them  in  all  their  efforts. 


138  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  graduated  from  the  Jefferson  Medical  College,  in 
Philadelphia,  on  the  first  day  of  March,  1835.  I  studied 
very  hard  all  winter,  and  even  found  time  for  the  dis- 
section of  a  few  subjects.  Few  students  found  time 
for  dissection  during  the  graduating  course,  but  I  did 
and  heard  the  graduating  course  of  lectures  besides. 
When  I  graduated,  I  felt  absolutely  incompetent  to  as- 
sume the  duties  of  a  practitioner.  Professor  Patterson 
had  advertised  a  private  course  of  lectures  for  a  month, 
and  I,  with  thirty  or  forty  others,  young  men  like  my- 
self, who  felt  that  they  didn't  know  much,  concluded  to 
take  the  private  course.  He  delivered  a  course  on 
"Kegional  Anatomy  and  Surgical  Anatomy."  When  I 
graduated  I  presume  I  could  have  gone  into  the  dissect- 
ing-room and  cut  down  upon  any  artery,  and  put  a  liga- 
ture around  it,  but  I  knew  nothing  at  all  about  the 
practice  of  medicine. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  begin  the  practice  of  medicine — My  first  patient — My  second — I  leave  Lan- 
caster and  go  to  Mount  Meigs — My  first  success. 

I  returned  to  my  home  in  South  Carolina  about  the 
middle  of  May,  1835.  I  went  home  with  everything 
prepared  to  begin  the  practice  of  medicine.  I  had  had 
no  clinical  advantages,  no  hospital  experience,  and  had 
seen  nothing  at  all  of  sickness.  I  had  been  able  to  buy 
a  full  set  of  instruments  for  surgical  operations,  and  I 
laid  in  a  full  stock  of  medicines  in  Philadelphia.  My 
father  rented  me  an  office  on  Main  Street.  I  had  a  sign 
painted  on  tin,  that  would  reach  one  third  of  the  way 
across  the  end  of  my  office.  It  was  certainly  two  feet 
long,  and,  like  all  young  doctors  just  starting,  I  wanted 
to  let  people  know  where  I  could  be  found.  I  attended 
my  office,  and  was  ready  for  consultation  and  for  pa- 
tients. One  morning,  at  the  end  of  two  or  three  weeks, 
as  I  was  sitting  in  my  office  quietly,  surrounded  by  my 
library,  which  consisted  of  seven  books,  octavo  volumes, 
safely  locked  up  in  one  of  the  little  drawers  in  my 
bureau,  Mr.  Mayer,  an  important  personage  in  the  town, 
came  whistling  along.     Mayer  had  been  its  mayor;  he 


140  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

had  been  my  tailor  from  the  time  I  was  a  little  boy.  He 
had  made  coats  for  me  before  I  was  permitted  to  wear 
tails  to  them. 

He  said,  "  Good  morning,  Marion  "  (for  nobody 
called  me  doctor).  I  had  lived  there  all  my  life,  knew 
everybody  in  the  town,  and  everybody  called  me  Marion. 
"  Have  you  had  any  patients  yet  ?  " 

I  said,  "No,  Andy,  I  haven't  had  a  patient  yet." 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  you  would  go  up  to  my 
house  and  see  my  baby.  It  is  very  sick,  and  has  been 
sick  for  some  time.  I  wish  you  would  go  up  pretty 
soon." 

I  said,  "  Yery  well,  I  will  go  up  immediately."  He 
passed  on  to  his  shop,  and  I  walked  up  to  his  house. 
I  thought  to  myself  that  this  was  a  good  beginning, 
really.  Here  is  the  most  important  personage  in  the 
town  who  is  my  first  patient,  and  if  Andy  Mayer  patron- 
izes me  my  successs  will  certainly  be  assured.  When  I 
arrived  I  found  a  child  about  eighteen  months  old,  very 
much  emaciated,  who  had  what  we  would  call  the  sum- 
mer complaint,  or  chronic  diarrhoea.  I  examined  the 
child  minutely  from  head  to  foot.  I  looked  at  its  gums, 
and,  as  I  always  carried  a  lancet  with  me  and  had  surgi- 
cal propensities,  as  soon  as  I  saw  some  swelling  of  the 
gums  I  at  once  took  out  my  lancet  and  cut  the  gums 
down  to  the  teeth.  This  was  good  so  far  as  it  went. 
But,  when  it  came  to  making  up  a  prescription,  I  had 
no  more  idea  of  what  ailed  the  child,  or  what  to  do  for 
it,  than  if  I  had  never  studied  medicine.     I  was  at  a 


MY  FIRST  CALL.  Ul 

perfect  loss  what  to  do,  but  I  did  not  betray  my  igno- 
rance to  the  mother.     I  blandly  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Mayer,  if  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  send 
Jennie  down  to  my  office  in  the  course  of  an  hour  from 
this  time,  I  will  have  medicine  ready  for  the  baby,  and 
write  out  the  directions  how  to  give  it." 

I  hurried  back  to  my  office,  and  took  out  one  of  my 
seven  volumes  of  Eberle,  which  comprised  my  library, 
and  found  his  treatise  on  the  "  Diseases  of  Children."  I 
hastily  took  it  down,  turned  quickly  to  the  subject  of 
"  Cholera  Infantum,"  and  read  it  through,  over  and  over 
again,  to  the  end  most  carefully.  I  knew  no  more  what 
to  prescribe  for  the  sick  babe  than  if  I  hadn't  read  it  all. 
But  it  was  my  only  resource.  I  had  nobody  else  to  con- 
sult but  Eberle.  By  the  by,  he  had  a  peculiar  way  of 
filling  his  books  with  prescriptions,  which  was  a  very 
good  thing  for  a  young  doctor.  He  was  a  good  writer, 
and  a  very  practical  man,  and  would  be  considered  good 
authority  even  at  this  time.  The  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world  for  me  to  do  was  to  begin.  At  the  beginning 
of  his  article  of  twenty  or  thirty  pages  there  was  a  pre- 
scription, but  I  do  not  remember  whether  it  was  a  pow- 
der or  a  mixture.  There  was  chalk  in  it.  So  I  com- 
pounded it  as  quickly  as  I  knew  how,  and  had  every- 
thing in  readiness  for  the  arrival  of  Jennie.  She  took  it 
back  to  the  house,  and  the  mother  began  to  give  it 
according  to  the  directions,  which  were  written  out.  I 
was  very  impatient  for  the  time  to  come  when  I  should 
make  my  visit,  and  see  the  effects  of  the  medicine  and 


142  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

the  Eberle  prescription.  I  was  there  punctually  on 
time.  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  find  the  baby  very 
much  as  in  the  morning ;  no  better  and  no  worse.  I  saw 
that  as  the  medicine  had  done  no  good  it  was  necessary 
to  change  it.  And  so  I  requested  Mrs.  Mayer  to  send 
Jennie  down  to  my  office  again  at  a  given  time  for  a 
new  prescription  for  the  baby.  I  turned  to  Eberle  again, 
and  to  a  new  leaf.  I  gave  the  baby  a  prescription  from 
the  next  chapter.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  changed  leaves 
and  prescriptions  as  often  as  once  or  twice  a  day.  The 
baby  continued  to  grow  weaker  and  weaker.  "  Is  it  pos- 
sible," I  thought,  "  that  this  child  can  die  ?  Did  any 
young  doctor  ever  lose  the  first  patient  he  ever  had,  and 
just  as  he  was  starting  out  ?  Providence  could  not  be  so 
cruel  as  to  allow  me  to  lose  my  first  patient,  in  a  little 
town  like  this,  with  everybody  talking  about  it,  and  es- 
pecially the  child  of  so  important  a  personage  as  Mr. 
Mayer."    I  felt  very  unhappy  about  it. 

Meantime,  an  old  nurse  was  asked  to  come  and  take 
care  of  the  child.  It  is  well  understood  that  there  is  a 
curious  antagonism  between  old  nurses  and  young  doc- 
tors. They  have  an  idea  that  young  doctors  don't  know 
a  great  deal,  and  the  old  nurses  are  not  very  far  from 
right.  This  old  nurse  seemed  to  scrutinize  me,  and  very 
particularly  watched  everything  I  said  and  did.  Noth- 
ing escaped  her,  and  I  felt  very  uncomfortable  in  her 
presence.  I  wished  that  she  had  never  come  there. 
However,  one  night  I  was  sitting  by  the  baby,  in  an  anx- 
ious mood  of  mind,  and  wondering  what  was  to  turn  up 


DEATH  OF  MY  FIRST  PATIENT.  113 

next.  I  was  feeling  its  pulse,  and  watching  it  carefully. 
The  old  nurse  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed,  when 
she  said,  "  Doctor,  don't  you  think  that  this  baby  is  going 
to  die  ?  "  I  said,  " !N~o,  madam,  I  do  not  think  so,  not  at 
all."  Externally,  I  was  very  calm  and  self-possessed  ;  but 
internally  I  was  not,  for  I  really  did  not  know  what  that 
child  would  do.  Presently  the  child  stopped  breathing, 
and  I  thought  it  a  case  of  syncope.  I  never  dreamed  that 
it  could  die.  So  I  jerked  the  baby  from  -  the  bed,  and 
held  its  head  down,  and  shook  it,  and  blew  into  its 
mouth,  and  tried  to  bring  it  to.  I  shook  it  again,  when 
the  old  nurse  laid  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  gently,  and 
said :  "  JSTo  use  shakin'  that  baby  any  more,  doctor,  for  that 
baby's  dead  !  "  Well,  I  laid  the  baby  back  in  the  bed, 
and  my  feelings  can  well  be  imagined  at  the  idea  that  I 
had  lost  my  first  patient.  I  attended  the  funeral ;  I  was 
the  chief  mourner  of  all.  Certainly  its  father  and  mother 
did  not  feel  so  badly  over  the  loss  of  their  child  as  I  did 
at  the  loss  of  my  first  patient.  I  was  very  melancholy 
and  sad,  for  I  thought  that  everybody  in  town  would 
know  that  I  had  lost  my  first  case,  and  Mayer's  baby  at 
that,  and  everybody  was  sorry  for  him  and  for  me. 

About  two  weeks  had  rolled  around,  and  the  depres- 
sion which  I  had  felt  had  somewhat  subsided,  when  Mr. 
Elias  Kennedy  came  to  my  office  one  morning.  Mr. 
Kennedy  was  foreman  for  Mr.  Mayer,  and  I  had  known 
him  all  my  life.  He  came  in  in  somewhat  of  a  hurry, 
and  said : 

"  Marion,  my  baby  is  real  sick,  and  I  wish  you  would 


1^  THE    5IORT  OF  MY  LIFE. 

go  up  to  my  house  and  see  it     I  nope  yon  will  have  bet- 
ter hick  with  it  than  yon  did  with  Andys  baby." 

I  said,  ^Elias,  if  I  don't,  m  qnit  the  town."     I  went 
np  to  see  Mr.  Kennedy's  baby,  and,  as  bad  luck  would 

Mayer's  baby,  the  same  prostrating  condition  of  thit. 
and  the  same  disease.     I  was  nonplused.      I  had  no 
authority  to  consult  but  Eberle;  so  I  took  np  Eberle 
again,  and  this  time  I  read  him  backward.     I  though:  Z 

would  reverse  the  treatment  I  had  instituted  with  Mav- 

• 

er  s  baby.  So,  instead  of  beginning  at  the  first  of  the 
chapter,  I  began  at  the  last  of  the  chapter,  and  turned 
backward,  and  turned  the  leaves  the  same  way,  and  re- 
~::*7i  '.'--  :>:t-  :■::::::  in.  7"_t  ":  i":t  i*::  n:  :;r"r::r:^:::e 
very  first.  I  did  not  have  any  consultation  in  the  first 
case,  for  there  was  no  doctor  in  town  to  counsel  with ; 
for  my  old  preceptor,  Dr.  Jones,  had  gone  to  Tennessee 
on  a  visit  to  his  sister,  and  he  was  the  only  doctor  in  the 
town  besides  myself.  He  returned  while  I  was  in  attend- 
ance npon  Mr.  Kennedy's  baby.  As  soon  as  he  came 
home  I  went  to  see  him.  I  said:  uDr.  Church,"  (eve:~ 
body  called  him  Dr.  Church)  u  I  lost  Andy  Zi  y&  '■  baby 
since  yon  have  been  away.  If  you  had  been  here  he 
would  have  lived.  But  he  is  dead ;  and  now  Eias  Ken- 
nedy's is  sick  and  I  want  you  to  go  and  see  it  and  sai 

u  I  will  go,"  he  said,  u  with  pleasure,  Marion." 
"  But  I  want  yon  to  go  at  once,"  I  said ;  "  there  is 
no  time  to  wait." 


MY  SECOND  FAILURE.  145 

So  the  dear,  good  old  doctor  went  up  with  me  to 
Elias's  very  cheerfully,  and  went  into  the  room.  He 
was  clear-headed  and  looked  at  the  patient  carefully,  and, 
at  the  first  glimpse,  he  knew  all  about  it.  ]STo  ques- 
tions were  necessary,  and  immediately  afterward  he  was 
satisfied.  He  proposed  that  we  would  have  a  consulta- 
tion, and  so  we  went  out  for  that  purpose.  It  was 
pretty  hot  in  the  house,  and  so  we  went  out  on  the 
shady  side,  in  the  corner  of  the  chimney.-  The  ffrst 
thing  he  said  to  me,  when  we  got  there,  was :  "  Well, 
Marion,  that  baby  is  going  to  die." 

I  said,  "  The  devil,  you  say ;  you  don't  say  that  this 
baby  is  going  to  die?  " 

He  said  that  it  could  not  recover. 

"Then,"  I  said,  "if  this  baby  dies,  doctor,  I  shall 
never  be  your  successor  in  this  town,  for  I  shall  leave." 

He  replied,  "  Marion,  that  baby  is  going  to  die ;  it 
will  die  to-night."  And  it  did  die,  and  it  died  that 
night.  Again  I  had  to  be  chief  mourner  at  the  funeral 
of  another  little  lost  citizen  of  Lancaster.  I  went  home 
sadder  than  ever.  I  just  took  the  long  tin  sign -board 
from  my  office  door.  There  was  an  old  well  back  of 
the  house,  covered  over  with  boards.  I  went  to  the 
well,  took  that  sign  with  me,  dropped  it  in  there,  and 
covered  the  old  well  over  again.  I  was  no  longer  a 
doctor  in  the  town  of  Lancaster. 

I  was  then  so  demoralized,  and  so  disgusted  with  my 
beginning  in  the  profession,  that  if  I  had  had  money 
enough,  or  any  money  at   all,  even   the  small   sum  of 


146  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

five  thousand  dollars,  I  would  not  have  given  another 
dose  of  medicine.  But  there  was  no  other  alternative 
for  me.  Being  obliged  to  continue  in  the  profession 
that  I  had  started  in,  I  was  determined  to  make  up  my 
deficiency  by  hard  work ;  and  this  was  not  to  come  from 
reading  books,  but  from  observation  and  from  diligent 
attention  to  the  sick. 

I  then  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  my  country  for 
m^  country's  good,  and  establish  a  home  in  the  far  West. 
I  had  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  my  first  two  patients, 
and  the  thought  of  it  was  too  terrible  to  be  borne.  I  had 
never  heard  of  such  terrible  luck,  and  never  thought 
that  such  misfortune  could  ever  happen  to  any  young 
man  in  the  world.  However,  I  had  one  other  patient 
in  Lancaster,  and  he  was  the  rich  man  of  the  town,  old 
Captain  McKenna,  who  owned  half  of  the  village  and 
one  hundred  slaves.  He  would  get  on  sprees  occasion- 
ally, lasting  two  or  three  weeks,  and  they  always  wound 
up  with  delirium  tremens.  He  was  on  one  of  his  regu- 
lar old  "  blow-outs."  and,  to  my  great  surprise,  he  sent 
for  me.  I  attended  him  very  carefully  for  two  days 
and  nights,  and  got  him  over  his  frolic.  He  was  de- 
lighted, and  gave  me  a  ten-dollar  bill.  That  was  the  first 
money  I  ever  made  in  the  practice  of  medicine,  and  the 
only  money  I  ever  got  in  Lancaster.  The  patients  that 
ought  to  have  lived  died,  and  the  one  that  ought  to 
have  died  got  well. 

On  the  13th  of  October  (1835)  my  father  and  I  start- 
ed for  Alabama.     The  "  thirteenth,"  by  the  way,  has 


I  GO  TO  ALABAMA.  147 

always  been  a  lucky  day  with  me,  and  so  has  Friday. 
I  was  born  on  Friday.     Some  years  ago,  when  I  was  one 
of  the  surgeons  in  the  Woman's  Hospital,  we  met,  four 
of  us,  to  select  operating  days,  each  having  a  separate 
day,  and  I  said  at  once  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  will  relieve  your 
rminds,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  in  regard  to  the 
day,  by  selecting  Friday  as  my  own,  and  you  can  divide 
the  other  days   among  yourselves  to  suit  your  ideas." 
My  father  had  furnished  me  with  a  fine  horse  and  a 
little  Yankee   carry-all,   and   in  this  my  medicines,  in- 
struments, and  the  same  old  library  of  seven  volumes, 
were   safely  stowed   away  in   the   back   of  the  wagon. 
My  destination  was  Marengo  County,  Alabama.     I  had 
heard  glowing   accounts   of  the   country  and  its  rich- 
ness, and  of  the  opportunities  afforded  to  young  men 
who  located  there ;   especially  if  they  had  energy  and 
enterprise.     It  took  us  about  three  weeks  to  go  from 
Lancaster  to  Mount  Meigs,  Montgomery  County,  Ala- 
bama.    When  we  arrived  at  Mount  Meigs  we  made  a 
halt  of  a  few  days,  for  we  had  many  friends  living  there 
who  had  removed  from  South  Carolina  at  a  previous 
date.     All   of  them   began   to  persuade  me   to  remain 
there  at   Mount   Meigs,   where  there  were  people  that 
knew  me  when  I  was  a  boy.     I  was  not  disposed  to  do 
so ;  but  my  father  said,  "  Why  should  you  go  farther  ? 
You  had  better  stop  where  people  here  know  you,  and 
have  an  interest  in  you,  than  to  go  to  Marengo,  where 
no  one  will  have  any  personal  interest  in  you."     Eather 
against  my  will,  however,  for  I  didn't  like  to  give  up 


148  THE  STOEY   OP  MY  LIFE. 

the  idea  that  I  had  started  out  with,  I  consented  to  stop 
at  Mount  Meigs. 

There  were  two  doctors  there.  Dr.  Charles  Lucas 
was  a  man  about  fifty  years  of  age,  a  splendid  man,  who 
had  a  great  reputation  as  a  doctor.  He  was  a  great 
politician,  a  great  talker,  a  great  planter,  was  very  rich ; 
owned  two  or  three  hundred  slaves,  made  large  quanti- 
ties of  cotton,  and  was  a  man  who  exerted  a  vast  influ- 
ence in  the  country.  He  was  an  old  bachelor  and  kept 
"  open  house  "  and  good  cheer  for  everybody  that  called. 
The  other  was  Dr.  Childers.  He  was  a  very  much  older 
man,  and  he  was  a  character.  He  had  an  enormous 
reputation  as  a  doctor.  He  bled  and  purged,  and  gave 
medicine  from  the  time  he  was  called  to  the  patient 
until  the  patient  was  called  away.  If  the  patient  sur- 
vived Dr.  Childers  and  the  disease  together,  he  had  a 
lease  of  life  that  would  carry  him  up  to  old  age.  Dr. 
Childers  never  lived  more  than  two  years  in  any  one 
place.  He  had  practiced  in  every  little  town  and  village 
all  through  Georgia,  from  Augusta  to  Columbia;  was 
quoted  as  authority  in  medicine  all  over  the  States  of 
Georgia  and  Alabama,  though  I  do  not  know  that  he 
had  ever  written  anything.  Still  he  was  a  very  wonder- 
ful man,  and  he  always  left  an  impression  with  every- 
body that  he  knew  a  good  deal  more  that  he  really  did. 
I  must  say  that  in  medicine  he  was  learned.  He  was  a 
very  peculiar  looking  man.  He  was  small,  rather  stoop- 
shouldered,  always  walked  with  his  hands  as  if  he  was 
tired,  holding  one  hand  on  each  lapel  of  his   coat,  his 


DR.  CH1LDERS.  149 

Lead  stooped  over  to  one  side — he  seemed  to  be  pulled 
over  in  that  direction  by  an  enormous  nose.  He  had  a 
pleasant  voice,  and  seldom  raised  it  above  a  whisper, 
and  he  always  spoke,  in  the  main,  in  a  sort  of  confi- 
dential way  to  everybody  and  on  any  subject.  He  was 
never  in  a  hurry,  was  always  prompt  in  his  attention 
to  the  duties  of  his  profession,  and  was  one  of  the  kind- 
est of  men.  He  believed  in  the  lancet,  and  it  was  rarely 
that  he  didn't  bleed  his  patient :  it  made  no  difference 
what  the  disease  was. 

I  well  remember  his  inviting  me  to  go  out  into  the 
country  once,  a  distance  of  three  or  four  miles,  to  see  a 
patient,  a  Miss  Ashurst.  She  was  a  very  beautiful 
woman  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption.  She  had  the 
usual  afternoon  hectic  flushes  of  this  ruthless  disease. 
She  was  nothing  but  a  skeleton,  and  certainly  had  but 
a  few  days  to  live.  But  Dr.  Childers's  theory  was 
that  the  lancet  was  necessary  wherever  the  patient  had 
the  least  appearance  of  fever.  In  our  afternoon  visit 
to  this  beautiful,  dying,  angelic  women,  he  found  her 
in  the  usual  exacerbation  of  hectic.  The  skin  was 
hot  and  dry,  and  the  pulse  about  one  hundred  and  twen- 
ty a  minute.  TVhat  was  my  surprise  when  Dr.  Child- 
ers  said,  "  Miss  Ashurst,  I  believe,  as  you  have  a  good 
deal  of  fever,  I  will  have  to  draw  a  little  blood  from 
you."  This  was  said  in  the  sweetest,  mildest,  most  gen- 
tlemanly tones  possible.  So  he  took  from  his  pocket  a 
cord,  and  drew  it  over  the  little  skeleton  arm  above  the 
elbow.     Presently  the  blood  came  trickling  down  from 


150  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LEFE. 

the  elbow,  and,  when  a  tablespoonful  had  run,  the  poor 
little  woman  fainted  and  fell  over.  "Ah,"  said  he, 
"  that  is  just  what  I  wanted.  Xow  she  will  be  better  "  ; 
and  she  was  better,  but  it  was  the  "better''  that  comes 
with  death.  The  practice  at  that  time  was  heroic ;  it 
was  murderous.  I  knew  nothing  about  medicine,  but  I 
had  sense  enough  to  see  that  doctors  were  killing  their 
patients  ;  that  medicine  was  not  an  exact  science ;  that 
it  was  wholly  empirical,  and  that  it  would  be  better  to 
trust  entirely  to  Mature  than  to  the  hazardous  skill  of 
the  doctors. 

Dr.  Guilders  had  then  been  about  eighteen  months  in 
Mount  Meigs,  and  it  was  about  time  that  he  was  prepar- 
ing to  leave  there.  He  was  very  glad  of  the  opportun- 
ity to  welcome  me  to  Mount  Meigs,  provided  that  I 
would  buv  him  out.  I  had  no  monev  with  which  to 
do  this ;  and  yet  it  was  something  to  have  his  influence  ; 
indeed,  it  was  a  good  deal.  However,  he  agreed  to  take 
my  note  for  two  hundred  dollars,  give  me  his  books  and 
medicines,  and  recommend  me  to  his  patients  generally 
in  the  country.  Two  hundred  dollars  at  that  time  was 
about  equal  to  one  thousand  dollars  now.  Of  course 
the  bargain  was  a  very  good  one  for  me  and  not  a  very 
bad  one  for  him ;  for  he  was  going  away  anyhow.  So 
I  was  soon  regularly  installed  at  Mount  Meigs  as  a  prac- 
ticing physician.  This  was  about  the  middle  of  Novem- 
ber, 1S35.  The  first  patient  that  I  had  there  came  in 
this  way : 

Dr.  Lucas,  I  said,  was  a  great  politician.    He  was  a 


FIRST  PATIENT  AT  MOUNT  MEIGS.  151 

bank  director,  and,  as  a  bank  director  be  wielded  a  great 
power  in  tbe  country.  He  bad  become  a  bank  director 
of  tbe  State  of  Alabama,  and  it  was  necessary  for  bim  to 
go  to  tbe  Legislature,  wbicb  tben  met  at  Tuscaloosa,  in 
tbe  western  part  of  the  State,  and  two  or  tbree  weeks 
were  required  for  tbe  electioneering  necessary  for  tbis 
direct orsbip.  ...  I  tbink  be  was  gone  more  than  a 
month,  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  was  away  five  or  six 
weeks  before  be  could  be  certain  of  his  election.  Mr. 
Evans  arrived  one  morning,  about  eleven  o'clock,  from 
the  neighborhood  of  Union  Springs,  Macon  County.  He 
said  that  he  had  come  for  Dr.  Lucas,  but,  as  he  was 
away,  he  would  be  glad  if  I  would  go  with  him  to  see 
Mrs.  FitzGreene,  who  was  very  ill  with  puerperal  fever. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Baldwin.  They 
were  people  of  fortune  and  favor,  and,  of  course,  a  call 
to  such  a  family  was  a  very  important  one.  But  I  said, 
"  No,  I  can  not  go  with  you ;  you  want  an  older  man 
than  I  am,  and  a  man  with  experience.  I  haven't  tbe 
knowledge  that  will  satisfy  the  case,  and  I  think  that 
you  had  better  go  to  Montgomery  and  get  some  of  the 
swell  doctors  there  to  attend  to  the  case." 

He  said  "  No ; "  that  everybody  spoke  well  of  me  in 
Mount  Meigs,  and  recommended  me  highly,  and  he 
would  not  be  satisfied  unless  I  would  return  with  him.  I 
had  tben  been  in  Mount  Meigs  about  a  month,  or  rather 
about  two  weeks.  However,  he  persuaded  me  to  go  with 
him,  and  we  started  in  an  hour  afterward.  We  rode 
all  that  evening,  and  did  not  arrive  at  Mr.  Baldwin's 


152  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LITE. 

until  nine  o'clock  that  night.  TTe  passed  through  a  wild- 
erness country  occupied  by  the  Indians,  whose  camp-fires 
we  could  see  in  every  direction,  a  country  without  roads, 
and  the  only  way  of  reaching  the  place  was  by  going 
along  little  Indian  trails,  and  in  one  instance  through  the 
swamp  of  Cubahatchee.  It  was  very  cold  ;  the  country 
was  wild,  and  the  wolves  were  howling  in  every  direc- 
tion. ^Yith  Indian  camps,  and  the  howlings  of  the 
wolves,  the  scene  was  a  novel  one  for  me,  indeed. 

Mr.  Baldwin  lived  in  a  double  log-cabin,  surrounded 
by  twenty  or  thirty  negro-houses,  distant  a  few  hundred 
yards  from  his  cabin.  The  country  was  being  partly 
cleared  up  for  the  cultivation  of  cotton.  Everything  was 
so  rough  and  uncouth  on  the  outside  that  I  did  not  ex- 
pect to  find  anything  on  the  inside  to  contradict  the 
impression  made  by  the  external  appearance  of  things. 
"When  I  went  in,  Mr.  Baldwin  was  sitting  with  his 
feet  to  a  blazing  big  fire,  and  the  room  was  altogether 
very  cheerful  and  comfortable.  He  was  glad  to  see 
me,  and  welcomed  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  real  doctor. 
I  had  forgotten  to  say  that,  though  I  was  twenty- 
two  years  old,  I  had  no  beard  and  looked  like  a  boy. 
About  as  soon  as  I  entered  the  room,  I  discovered  a 
piano.  I  said  to  myself,  "I  didn't  expect  to  find  a 
piano  in  this  wilderness ;  who  would  have  dreamed  of 
it  \ n  In  about  twenty  minutes  I  heard  a  door  open 
and  a  rustling:,  and,  looking  behind,  there  was  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  young  women  I  have  ever  seen 
in  all  my  life.     She  was  tall,  graceful,  highly-educated, 


A  CONSULTATION.  153 

handsome,  and  accomplished.  If  I  had  not  been  then  en- 
gaged to  be  married,  I  am  sure  I  should  have  yielded 
to  the  beauty,  and  to  the  charms  and  fascinations  of 
the  surroundings  of  this  lovely  young  woman.  But  we 
soon  became  very  good  friends,  and  I  made  a  confidante 
^of  her,  and  that  put  us  on  very  good  and  warm  social 
relations.  Her  sister  was  the  patient,  and,  after  they 
gave  us  something  to  eat,  I  was  invited  into  the  sick- 
room. I  found  Dr.  Bronson  in  attendance.  He  was  a 
man  over  fifty  years  of  age,  had  had  the  advantages  of  a 
good  medical  education,  but,  unfortunately,  he  drank — 
had  even  been  drunk  during  the  management  of  this 
case,  which  was  very  critical.  I  went  with  him  to  the 
sick  patient.  The  child  had  been  born  about  six  days 
before.  The  mother  was  extremely  ill,  and  I  had  sense 
enough  to  see  that  she  was  dangerously  so,  and  I  also 
had  good  sense  enough,  in  our  consultation,  to  see  that 
a  little  tact  was  necessary.  I  said,  "  My  dear  doctor,  I 
find  that  you 'have  managed  this  case  strictly  in  accord- 
ance with  the  principles  laid  down  by  our  very  best 
medical  authorities."  That  was  politic,  for,  as  I  said,  I 
really  did  not  know.  I  told  him  that  I  approved  entire- 
ly of  the  course  pursued,  and  that  I  had  nothing  to  do ; 
no  alteration  or  suggestion  to  make  in  his  treatment. 
This,  too,  was  politic ;  for  I  didn't  know  what  to  sug- 
gest. They  were  very  much  pleased  with  my  gentle- 
manly deportment  and  kindly  manner,  and  would  not 
let  me  think  of  returning  home  the  next  day. 

I  found  myself  most  comfortably  situated,  with  this 


15i  THE  STOEY   OF  3JT  LIFE, 

beautiful  girl  as  a  companion,  and  she  had  a  first  cousin* 

a  Miss  ,  who  was  certainly  as  beautiful  and  as  ac- 

complished.  These  girls  had  just  returned  from  a  high 
school  in  Georgia,  where  they  had  had  the  advantages  of 
the  best  education  that  could  be  obtained  for  voting  ladies 
at  that  day  and  time.  I  remained  there  two  or  three 
days,  going  through  the  formalities,  two  or  three  times  a 
day,  of  consulting  with  the  doctor,  and  leaving  him  to 
manage  the  case  as  he  pleased,  while  the  girls  and  myself 
galloped  through  the  country  on  fleet  horses,  visiting 
places  of  interest  in  the  wilderness. 

Just  before  I  came  away,  Mr.  Evans  said  to  me, 
"  Doctor,  Mrs.  McElroy's  overseer  is  very  sick,  and  has 
had  two  or  three  doctors  to  see  him  within  the  last  fort- 
night, and  we  think  that  he  is  going  to  die."  People 
living  in  a  wilderness  had  to  send  thirty  or  forty  miles 
for  a  doctor,  and  put  off  post-haste  if  anybody  was  seri- 
ously ill.  The  doctors  would  come  once,  prescribe  for 
the  patient,  and  would  never  come  back  again.  That 
poor  fellow  had  had  two  or  three  doctors,  one  from  Troy, 
in  Pike  County,  and  another  from  somewhere  else.  Still 
he  was  very  ill,  and  so  Mr.  Evans  asked  me  if  I  would 
go  over  and  see  him.  I  said  I  had  rather  not,  and  he 
had  better  send  for  somebody  else,  some  of  the  big  doc- 
tors. I  said,  "  He  won't  care  to  see  me  ;  I  haven't  the 
knowledge  and  reputation  sufficient  to  take  the  charge  of 
such  a  case  as  that.  It  has  baffled  the  skill  of  all  the 
doctors,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  undertake  anvthing  that 
I  know  so  little  about."     However,  he  insisted  on  my 


AN  AWKWARD  ACCIDENT.  155 

going.  So  the  two  girls  and  I  mounted  our  horses,  and 
we  galloped  over  to  Mrs.  McElroy's,  distant  about  three 
miles. 

A  very  unfortunate  thing  happened  to  me  on  the 
excursion.  On  the  road,  we  came  to  an  Indian  old  field, 
about  three  hundred  yards  across.  The  girls  bantered  me 
for  a  race  across  that  old  field  ;  and  so  we  all  put  spurs  to 
our  horses,  and  went  it  like  madcaps.  Just  as  we  got  to 
the  end  of  the  race  (of  course  the  girls  beat  me)  I  drew 
up  my  horse  suddenly,  straightened  myself  in  the  stirrups, 
when  I  heard  something  go  "  r-r-r-rip,"  and  then  I  heard, 
to  my  horror,  something  tear  loose  about  my  breeches. 
I  had  purchased  a  new  pair  of  pantaloons  just  before 
starting  on  this  visit  to  Mr.  Evans,  and,  to  my  dismay, 
they  were  split  down  behind,  right  in  the  very  middle.  I 
laid  my  handkerchief  down  on  the  pommel  of  my  saddle, 
and  said,  "  God  bless  the  man  who  invented  frock  coats." 
When  I  got  to  the  place,  I  was  in  a  quandary.  I  didn't 
know  what  was  to  be  done,  for  the  breeches  were  torn 
open  about  six  inches  in  the  crotch.  But  I  made  a 
joke  of  it,  and  told  the  girls  that  I  was  a  ruined  man. 
So  when  we  got  into  the  house  they  kindly  offered  to 
repair  the  damage ;  and  so  I  was  sent  into  another 
room,  and,  taking  the  garment  off,  passed  it  through 
the  door  to  them,  to  be  sewed  up.  While  they  were  so 
engaged  they  had  a  good  frolic  over  the  affair.  I  put 
the  pantaloons  on,  and  we  had  a  hearty  laugh  over  the 
accident.  They  were  sensible  girls  and  appreciated  the 
affair  as  well  as  a  boy  would. 


156  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

By  and  by  Mr.  Evans  arrived,  and  lie  said,  "  Now, 
doctor,  we  will  go  into  the  cabin  and  see  Mr.  Adams, 
the  '  overseer.'  "  He  had  apprised  Mr.  Adams  of  my 
arrival,  and  when  I  entered  the  room  the  poor,  suf- 
fering man  turned  himself  to  one  side,  and,  rolling 
his  keen  eyes  up  to  me,  said  to  Mr.  Evans,  "  My 
God,  Evans,  do  you  call  that  thing  a  doctor?  Take 
him  away ;  take  him  away.  I  have  got  no  use  for 
such  a  looking  man  as  that.  I  am  too  a  sick  a  man 
to  be  fooled  with.  Take  him  away."  Really,  I  did 
not  blame  the  poor  fellow,  for,  had  I  been  as  sick  a 
man  as  he  was,  I  should  have  been  of  his  opinion.  I 
did  not  get  into  a  bad  humor,  as  many  a  foolish  doc- 
tor does,  or  would  have  done,  on  such  an  occasion,  but 
simply  said,  "Mr.  Adams,  I  haven't  come  here  to  see 
you  as  a  doctor,  but  simply  to  gratify  Mr.  Evans ;  I 
haven't  the  least  desire  to  prescribe  for  you.  I  have 
great  sympathy  for  you,  and  for  everybody  else  who 
is  sick,  and  I  want  to  see  them  get  well.  I  haven't 
the  knowledge  or  experience  necessary  to  treat  any  man 
who  is  as  sick  as  you  are,  or  as  you  seem  to  be." 

He  was  quieted  down  by  my  kind  words  and  suave 
manner,  and  said,  "You  will  forgive  me,  won't  you?" 
I  said,  "  I  have  nothing  to  forgive  you  for.  I  did  not 
come  here  either  to  prescribe  for  you,  or  even  to  in- 
vestigate your  case."  He  said,  "I  will  give  you  my 
history,  since  you  are  so  good  as  to  come  and  see  me, 
and  you  have  been  so  kind."  And  then  he  gave  me 
a  minute  account  of  his  attack  and  sickness.     I  made 


A  DIFFICULT   CASE.  157 

no  prescription,  and  left  him  soon  after,  and  rode  back  to 
Mr.  Evans's ;  the  next  day  I  rode  back  to  Mount  Meigs, 
after  this  very  curious  experience  in  the  wild  woods  of 
Macon  County,  in  the  Creek  Nation.  The  lady  who  had 
puerperal  fever  died  the  day  after  I  left. 

Just  exactly  four  weeks  from  that  day,  which 
brought  it  up  to  the  17th  of  December,  Mr.  Evans 
came  to  Mount  Meigs  again,  for  Dr.  Lucas  to  go  and 
see  Mr.  Adams,  who  was  still  very  ill.  Dr.  Lucas  was 
in  Tuscaloosa,  and  so  he  came  after  me.  I  said :  "  I  will 
not  go ;  I  met  the  man  once,  and  I  am  not  the  man 
he  wants  to  attend  his  case.  I  do  not  know  anything 
about  his  case,  and  I  can  not  go." 

Mr.  Evans  said,  "Since  you  were  there  we  have 
had  eight  or  nine  doctors  to  see  him  from  different 
parts  of  the  State,  and  one  from  Georgia,  and  nobody 
does  anything  for  him,  and  you  must  go  with  me." 

Most  unwillingly,  so  far  as  the  patient  was  con- 
cerned, but  most  willingly,  so  far  as  the  recollection  of 
those  two  charming  young  ladies  was  concerned,  I 
mounted  my  horse,  and  went  with  Mr.  Evans  to  see  Mr. 
Adams.  I  found  Mr.  Adams  emaciated  to  a  skeleton, 
and  so  changed  that  I  should  hardly  have  known  him. 
He  was  very  willing  for  me  to  investigate  his  case,  for 
he  was  used  to  having  doctors  investigate  it,  and  all  to 
no  profit.  Nobody  seemed  to  understand  what  was  the 
matter  with  him.  But  my  having  seen  him  previously, 
and  having  gotten  from  him  a  minute  history  of  the  case 
in  the  early  stages  of  it,  this  experience  was  now  of 


158  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

some  service  to  me  in  arriving  at  a  diagnosis  of  the  case. 
When  I  came  to  turn  him  partly  over  on  his  back,  and 
pat  him  on  the  liver,  the  right  side,  and  the  abdomen, 
I  found  that  the  right  side  of  the  abdomen  was  higher 
than  the  other ;  and,  when  I  discovered  that  there  was 
fluctuation,  I  immediately  said :  "There  is  matter  here, 
and  it  must  come  out,  or  this  man  will  die.  It  will  have 
to  be  opened  and  come  out."  Mr.  Adams  said,  "But 
how  can  that  be  so,  when  so  many  doctors  have  seen 
and  examined  me,  and  none  of  them  have  found  it 
out?" 

I  said :  "  Of  this  I  am  sure.  I  am  not  much  of  a 
doctor,  but  when  it  comes  to  seeing  and  feeling  and 
handling  things,  I  know  something,  and  I  know  that 
there  is  matter  in  this  belly,  and  it  either  comes  out  or 
you  will  die.  There  is  a  young  doctor  living  in  your 
neighborhood,  that  you  have  never  heard  of." 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Mr.  Adams. 

"He  is  Dr.  Baker;  a  graduate  of  my  own  college 
in  Philadelphia,  a  year  ago ;  a  young  Yankee,  who  has 
come  down  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  South,  and  he 
lives  not  far  from  here."  \ 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Evans,  "I  have  heard  of  him." 

I  said:  "I  wish  you  would  send  for  him  to  come 
over  here.  As  soon  as  he  comes,  he  will  know  what 
is  the  matter  with  you,  and  he  will  have  good  sense 
enough  to  see  it  as  I  do.  He  will  indorse  what  I  have 
to  say,  because  he  has  had  the  same  training  in  the 
same  great  medical  school  from  which  I  was  graduated." 


A  COUNCIL.  159 

That  required  a  day,  and  I  didn't  mind,  as  I  had 
the  two  pretty  girls  to  talk  to.  Dr.  Baker  was  sent 
for,  and  he  came  over  the  next  day  (the  18th),  in  the 
morning.  We  examined  the  patient  very  minutely,  and 
then  we  went  out  and  sat  on  the  fence,  under  a  white- 
oak  tree,  for  a  consultation.     I  said : 

"  Well,  Baker,  there  is  some  matter  there." 

He  said,  "  No,  I  don't  think  so." 

I  said,  "  Well,  what  is  it  then  ? " 

He  replied,  "  Fungus  hsematodes." 

I  said:  "If  he  has  fungus  hsematodes,  he  will  die; 
and  if  he  has  matter  in  there  he  will  die,  if  you  do  not 
put  a  knife  into  it.  If  he  has  fungus  hsematodes,  we 
ought  to  give  him  a  chance  for  his  life,  by  sticking  a 
knife  into  it." 

He  said :  "  I  am  opposed  to  any  surgical  operations." 

That  blocked  the  game  completely.  Bu-t  I  was  not 
willing  to  see  the  man  die  without  any  effort  made  to 
save  him.  So  I  proposed  a  council.  Mr.  Billy  Dick, 
who  was  the  great  authority  in  that  neighborhood,  to 
whom  everybody  appealed  and  looked  for  advice,  and 
three  or  four  of  his  neighbors,  were  called  in.  Mr.  Dick 
was  a  clear-headed  man,  of  sound  judgment,  capable  of 
weighing  evidence,  and  much  respected  in  the  com- 
munity. 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "  our  consultation  results  in  a 
difference  of  opinion  between  us.  There  is  no  doctor  in 
the  neighborhood  to  decide,  and  I  will  make  a  statement 
of  the  case,  and  leave  you  gentlemen  to  decide  what 


160  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

should  be  done.  It  is  my  opinion,  gentlemen,  that  Mr. 
Adams  has  pns  in  his  abdomen,  probably  in  the  liver. 
It  is  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Baker  that  it  is  not  pns,  but  that 
it  is  a  malignant  disease.  Be  it  one  or  the  other,  he  will 
die  if  left  as  he  is.  If  it  is  pns,  it  should  be  evacuated, 
and  he  will  get  well  almost  immediately.  If  it  is  what 
Dr.  Baker  thinks,  sticking  a  knife  into  him  might  shorten 
his  life  a  little,  but  not  much.  Death  is  certain  if  we  do 
nothing.  I  think  we  ought  to  open  it  and  see  what  it 
is.  We  leave  it  to  you,  gentlemen,  whose  advice  to  fol- 
low— mine  or  Dr.  Baker's." 

Mr.  Dick  spoke  up  at  once,  saying :  "  We  will  follow 
your  advice." 

I  said,  "  Yery  well."  So  we  went  into  the  room — it 
was  before  the  days  of  anaesthetics — and,  pulling  out  a 
bistoury,  I  plunged  it  into  his  belly.  I  think  it  was  one 
of  the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  when  I  saw  the  mat- 
ter flow  and  come  welling  up  opposite  that  bistoury.  It 
discharged  two  quarts  of  matter  at  once,  and  continued 
discharging  for  two  or  three  days.  A  few  days  after 
that  Mr.  Adams  was  able  to  walk  out,  and  a  week  after 
he  rode  over  to  Mr.  Dick's,  seven  miles,  and  dined.  He 
subsequently  married  Mrs.  McElroy.  It  was  my  first 
surgical  operation  in  Alabama.  He  became  a  rich  man, 
went  to  Texas,  and  he  has  descendants  in  that  State  now. 

Of  course,  this  operation  and  its  success  gave  me  a 
great  reputation  in  the  neighborhood,  and  it  was  reflected 
back  to  Mount  Meigs.  I  had  engaged  board  at  Miss 
Judkins's,  and  it  made  me  a  comfortable  and  pleasant 


PROSPECTS  BRIGHTENING.  161 

home.  My  prospects  were  brightening.  I  was  making 
friends  every  day,  and  before  six  weeks  had  rolled  around 
I  felt  so  secure  in  my  new  position  and  location,  and  es- 
pecially in  my  prospects,  that  I  thought  that  I  could 
safely  return  to  my  native  town  to  get  married  to  the 
girl  whom  I  had  loved  from  the  time  of  my  schoolboy 
days.  It  was  about  the  1st  of  February,  1836,  that  I 
arrived  in  Lancaster,  having  been  a  week  on  the  road  in 
the  stage.  When  I  said  that  I  had  come  to  claim  the 
hand  of  my  affianced,  and  take  her  to  my  home  with  me 
in  the  West,  her  mother  begged  and  implored  me  to  wait 
until  the  following  December.  I  was  greatly  disappoint- 
ed, but  I  was  obliged  to  bow  to  the  wishes  of  my  sweet- 
heart's mother. 

V 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Seminole  war — A  journey  to  Philadelphia  and  Xew  York — An  expe- 
rience in  Charleston — An  expedition  against  the  Creek  Indians — A 
sickly  season — An  attack  of  fever. 

At  that  time  the  Seminole  war  had  just  broken  out, 
and  mT  brother  and  all  the  other  yotuq£  men  of  Lancas- 
ter  were  forming  a  volunteer  company  to  go  to  the  war. 
After  three  days'  notice  they  started,  and  I  was  so  fired 
with  the  war  spirit  by  my  visit  to  South  Carolina  that  I 
was  ready  for  anything,  and  was  exceedingly  anxious  to 
follow  my  comrades  and  the  friends  of  my  youth  to 
Florida.  I  was  determined  to  do  it ;  but  my  father 
begged  me  not  sacrifice  my  foothold  in  Alabama,  and 
said  that  if  I  went  I  should  lose  everything  that  I  had 
gained  there.  He  had  been  for  a  long  time  wishing  to 
send  my  sisters,  one  of  whom  was  twelve  and  the  other 
ten,  to  Philadelphia  to  school.  And.  more  out  of  a  pre- 
text for  keeping  me  from  going  to  the  Florida  war  than 
to  take  them  to  Philadelphia,  he  begged  me  to  go  with 
them  to  Philadelphia,  as  he  was  not  able  to  go.  He  did 
not  intend  to  send  them  for  perhaps  a  year,  but  used  this 
as  a  pretext  to  keep  me  from  going  to  Florida. 

"We  left  for  Philadelphia  about  the  10th  of  February, 


JOURNEY  TO  PHILADELPHIA.  163 

1836.  It  was  a  cold  winter,  and  the  severity  of  the 
season  killed  the  orange  and  China  trees  at  the  Sonth 
in  great  numbers.  We  had  a  very  bad  time  getting 
North,  traveling  by  stage  all  the  way.  There  were  snow 
and  ice  from  the  time  we  struck  Charlotte,  North  Caro- 
lina, and  we  were  obliged  at  different  places  to  stop  on 
account  of  the  blockade.  At  Fredericksburg  we  had  to 
remain  four  days,  and  when  we  arrived  at  Washington 
we  were  obliged  to  remain  three  or  four  days  there.  In 
Baltimore  we  had  to  remain  two  or  three  days  before  we 
could  go  on  to  Philadelphia.  The  snow  was  deep  and 
the  ice  obstructed  travel  in  every  direction.  At  last  we 
landed  in  Philadelphia,  about  the  1st  of  March.  We 
were  more  than  two  weeks  going.  During  the  three 
days  that  I  was  in  Washington  I  went  to  the  capitol, 
and  had  an  opportunity  to  see  the  great  men  of  the 
nation.  Among  them  were  Henry  Clay,  Daniel  Web- 
ster, Benton,  Calhoun,  Yan  Buren  (who  was  President 
then),  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  others  of  note. 

Arriving  in  Philadelphia,  I  placed  my  sisters  in  Miss 
Edmunds's  school,  where  I  had  been  boarding  a  year 
before.  I  remained  there  a  week  or  ten  days,  renewing 
acquaintance  with  my  old  friends,  and  then  took  my  de- 
parture for  the  South,  by  way  of  New  York.  It  took 
twenty-four  hours  to  go  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia, 
a  distance  now  covered  in  ninety  minutes.  I  remained  in 
New  York  about  a  week,  and  I  recollect  one  Sunday — I 
was  boarding  in  Beekman  Street,  at  a  Quaker  boarding- 
house,  not  far  from  where  the  "Times"  office  is  now 


164  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

located — walking  out  into  the  country  with  a  young 
medical  student.  We  walked  and  walked  till  I  was 
tired,  and  we  went  into  the  fields  where  they  were  build- 
ing some  new  houses,  which  were  very  beautiful.  I 
wondered  why  they  should  be  building  houses  away  out 
there  in  the  fields.  I  said,  the  town  can  certainly  never 
grow  enough  to  come  away  up  here.  The  fields  I  visited 
then,  and  the  new  houses  I  saw  building,  and  thought 
were  so  far  in  the  country,  were  in  what  is  now  Wash- 
ington Square  and  Lafayette  Place. 

I  took  the  steamer  for  Charleston,  and  arrived  there 
the  first  of  April,  without  a  dollar  in  my  pocket.  I 
hoped  that,  being  in  my  own  native  state,  it  would 
be  easy  enough  for  me  to  raise  money,  and  I  was  sure 
that  I  should  see  friends  and  get  from  them  money 
enough  to  return  to  Alabama.  I  stopped  at  the  best 
hotel,  the  "  Carolina  Coffee-House,"  and  I  immediately 
looked  over  the  list  of  arrivals  to  see  if  there  was  any- 
body there  that  I  knew  from  the  up-country  !  There 
was  no  name  that  I  was  familiar  with.  Then  I  went 
to  the  Planters',  to  Miott's,  and  looked  all  over  town, 
to  see  the  registers,  and  to  see  if  there  was  any  one 
there,  and,  to  my  utter  amazement  and  dismay,  there 
was  not  a  name  that  I  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of  before. 
The  next  day  I  made  the  same  rounds  of  the  hotels, 
and  all  in  vain ;  and  then  the  next  day,  but  I  could 
find  not  a  name  that  I  knew  or  ever  had  heard  of  before. 
Then  I  was  in  utter  despair ;  what  to  do  I  did  not 
know.     I   could  not   stay  there   much  longer;   I   was 


PENNILESS  IN   CHARLESTON.  165 

obliged  to  go  home,  and  yet  hadn't  a  penny  in  my 
pocket.  I  was  too  proud  to  go  and  ask  any  of  the 
professors  in  the  Medical  College  to  lend  me  money. 
Indeed,  during  the  winter  that  I  was  there,  I  was  so 
reticent  that  I  did  not  make  many  acquaintances  among 
the  professors,  and  knew  none  of  them  very  well,  ex- 
cept the  demonstrator  of  anatomy,  Dr.  John  Bellin- 
ger. At  last  I  remembered  having  heard  my  father 
speak  of  a  commission-merchant  in  Charleston,  by  the 
name  of  John  Robinson ;  that  a  good  many  years  ago 
he  used  to  trade  with  him,  and  bought  a  great  many 
groceries  of  him,  and  other  supplies,  such  as  were  usual 
in  the  stock  of  an  ordinary  country  store.  The  idea 
occurred  to  me  that  I  would  go  to  Mr.  Robinson,  and 
tell  him  frankly  who  I  was  and  my  condition,  and  ask 
him  to  help  me.  So  I  inquired  the  way  to  his  office, 
and  was  directed,  and  then  I  walked  down  to  the  pier 
and  looked  in.  I  could  not  have  the  heart  to  ask  a 
stranger  to  lend  me  fifty  dollars.  I  soliloquized  :  "  What 
if  he  thinks  that  I  am  an  impostor  ?  What  if  he  thinks 
that  I  am  really  the  son  of  Colonel  Sims,  and  yet  might 
be  a  swell  swindler  ?  "  So  I  went  back  to  the  hotel  to 
pass  another  night,  wondering  what  I  should  do.  I  took 
the  round  of  the  hotels,  thinking  that  perhaps  some  one 
from  the  up-country  would  be  in  the  city,  but  all  to  no 
avail.  The  next  morning,  in  a  state  of  despair,  I  went 
again  to  Mr.  Robinson's.  The  first  time  I  inquired  for 
him  I  was  told  that  he  was  not  in  his  office.  I  stood 
there  with  an  aching  heart  and  bewildered  mind.     The 


166  THE  STOPwY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

second  time  I  timidly  inquired  if  he  was  in,  and  was 
told  that  he  was  not,  but  that  he  would  be  back  soon, 
in  the  course  of  half  an  hour.  I  was  glad  that  he  was 
not  in,  I  was  so  heavy-hearted  and  sad  and  unhappy,  and 
I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do.  But,  by  and  by,  after  stand- 
ing lounging  around  at  his  office  for  a  little  time,  the 
half-hour  passed,  and  he  returned.  I  went  into  the 
store,  and  was  shown  into  his  private  office  and  count- 
ing-room. He  was  a  splendid,  fine-looking  old  fellow,  a 
Scotchman  I  thought  from  his  accent.     I  said  : 

"Mr.  Robinson,  I  am  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  of  Ala- 
bama, and  I  am  the  son  of  Colonel  Sims,  of  Lancaster.  I 
left  home  not  long  ago  to  go  to  Philadelphia  with  my  sis- 
ters, leaving  them  at  school.  I  have  journeyed  thus  far 
on  my  return  home.  I  have  been  a  little  improvident, 
not  extravagant,  and  not  dissipated.  Unfortunately,  I 
am  out  of  money,  entirely  so,  and  now  I  leave  it  to 
you  to  judge  whether  I  am  an  impostor.  I  know  I  am 
an  honest  man,  and  I  ask  you  to  lend  me  fifty  dollars 
to  carry  me  to  my  home  in  Mount  Meigs." 

"I  will  gladly  do  it,"  he  said,  in  a  minute.  "I 
know  your  father  very  well,  and  I  know  that  you  are 
just  what  you  represent  yourself  to  be,  and  what  I  take 
you  to  be." 

I  never  was  so  relieved  in  all  my  life  as  I  was  by 
his  generosity  and  kindness.  He  said,  "  When  will 
you  leave  ?  " 

I  replied,  "  Just  as  soon  as  I  can  settle  my  bill  at 
the  hotel.     I  have  been  here  now  four  days,  looking  at 


A  FRIEND  IN  NEED.  167 

the  hotel  registers,  thinking  I  might  find  somebody 
from  Columbia,  or  some  other  up-country  town,  from 
my  home.  I  could  find  no  one,  and  in  my  state  of  de- 
spair I  have  thrown  myself  on  your  generosity.  I  will 
return  the  money  as  soon  as  I  get  to  my  home  in  Ala- 
^bania." 

He  said,  "  If  you  will  wait  until  the  day  after  to-mor- 
row, my  son  William  is  going  to  Marengo.  He  is  a 
good  traveling  companion,  and  I  think  you-will  like  him 
very  much." 

I  waited,  and  on  the  day  named  I  started,  with  young 
Mr.  Robinson  as  a  traveling  companion,  and  arrived 
safely  at  my  destination.  But  that  visit  made  a  deep 
impression  on  me,  and  the  kind  reception  I  received  sank 
deep  into  my  heart.  I  know  that  I  have  paid  the  money 
I  borrowed  of  Mr.  Robinson,  over  and  over  again,  to 
many  a  man  in  want.  I  hadn't  the  conscience  to  de- 
cline when  called  upon,  as  I  reflected  on  my  feelings 
that  I  experienced  that  morning  in  Charleston.  I  have 
helped  many  __  a  man  unworthily,  simply  because  I 
thought  it  was  better  to  let  money  go  in  that  way  than 
to  turn  a  man  away  who  was  deserving  of  assistance. 

Soon  after  we  passed  into  the  Creek  Nation  the  war 
broke  out.  Indeed,  the  stage  that  we  went  on  was  about 
the  last  that  was  allowed  to  pass,  or  that  went  from 
Georgia  to  Montgomery,  Alabama,  and  a  day  or  two 
after  that  the  stages  were  attacked  by  the  Creek  In- 
dians, and  the  passengers  and  drivers  murdered.  The 
whole  country  was  in   a  turmoil,  and  volunteers  were 


168  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

called  from  every  quarter  to  keep  tlie  Indians  within 
bounds,  and  to  prevent  their  raids  upon  the  settlers, 
until  the  forces  of  the  regular  army  could  be  concen- 
trated. As  there  were  no  railroads  then,  it  took  a  long 
time  for  General  Gaines  to  get  sufficient  troops  into 
the  Creek  Nation  to  quell  the  turmoil.  Yolunteers 
were  called  for,  and  Mount  Meigs  sent  its  quota.  Cap- 
tain Merrill  Ashurst  issued  the  call  for  volunteers,  and 
in  three  days  he  was  at  the  head  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  of  the  finest-mounted  young  men  in  the  country ! 
They  were  armed  with  shot-guns  and  rifles,  and  each 
with  his  private  arms.  I  was  in  the  ranks.  A  regi- 
ment had  been  called  out  from  Montgomery,  and  I  was 
offered  the  position  of  assistant  surgeon  in  the  regiment. 
But  I  preferred  to  go  under  Captain  Ashurst's  com- 
mand, with  my  friends,  as  a  private.  We  were  in  the 
Creek  Nation  five  weeks — a  little  over  a  month — where, 
as  I  have  often  said  to  my  friends,  I  "  have  fought,  bled, 
and  died  for  my  country."  Captain  Ashurst  had  a  diffi- 
cult position  to  fill,  for  every  man  was  the  equal  of  every 
other  man,  and  every  man  felt  that  no  other  man  was  his 
superior;  and  so  he  had  the  most  unruly  set  of  fellows 
entirely  to  manage.  Dr.  Hugh  Henry,  of  Montgomery, 
was  the  major  in  command  of  the  battalion.  Ashurst's 
men  were  very  unruly  and  impatient,  and  they  didn't 
want  to  be  confined  to  the  military  drill  and  discipline ; 
and  they  wanted  to  be  on  the  move  and  scouting  all  the 
time.  Major  Henry  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with 
them.     At  last,  Captain  Ashurst  went  to  him  one  day, 


THE  CREEK  INDIANS.  169 

and  he  said :  "  Major,  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  man- 
age these  young  men,  unless  you  just  give  me  the  privi- 
lege of  doing  as  I  please.  They  are  all  of  the  very  best 
blood  in  the  country,  and  I  can't  drive  them.  I  couldn't 
drive  them  to  heaven,  and  yet  I  know  that  I  could  lead 
-tliem  to  hell.  Just  give  me  the  privilege  of  going  into 
Tusceega  to-morrow." 

The  major  said:  "I  will  send  you  off  as  advance- 
guard."  And  so  we  marched  off  to  Tusceega.  When 
we  arrived  at  Tusceega  at  night,  we  pitched  our  tents, 
and  the  spies  of  Opothleo-ho-holo,  the  chief  of  the  Creek 
Nation,  so  we  found  out  afterward,  reported  to  him  that 
one  hundred  and  twenty  volunteers  had  arrived  at  Tus- 
ceega, and  were  easy  to  cut  off.  He  was  a  wise  old  man, 
and  he  6aid :  "  I  do  not  believe  it.  White  people  are  not 
fools.  They  would  not  send  a  hostile  force  of  only  one 
hundred  men  to  Tusceega.  That  is  his  advance-guard, 
and  on  either  side  of  the  town  is  a  regiment  behind  them. 
I  shall  not  molest  them ; "  and  it  was  to  his  distrust  of 
his  spies  that  we  all  owe  our  lives ;  for  he  could  easily 
have  annihilated  the  entire  hundred  without  trouble. 

It  was  a  war  without  bloodshed.  General  Gaines 
arrived  in  time  to  send  us  all  to  our  happy  homes  in 
five  weeks,  and  that  was  enough  to  satisfy  our  love  of 
adventure,  and  the  exposure  was  sufficient  to  satisfy  us 
with  the  honors  of  war.  We  reached  Mount  Meigs  again 
on  the  5th  of  June,  a  hot,  dusty  day,  glad  enough  to 
return  to  that  peaceful  abode.  This  five  weeks  for  me 
was  a  great  thing.     I  went  into  that  command  perfectly 


170  THE   STOEY   OF   MY   LIFE. 

unknown,  and  a  boy  in  appearance,  bnt  a  man  in  spirit ; 
and  I  came  out  of  it  with  one  hundred  and  twenty 
friends.  All  of  the  command  were  devoted  friends  of 
mine  and  to  me.  It  laid  the  foundation  of  my  popu- 
larity so  deeply  that  I  was  soon  sent  for  as  the  doctor 
for  all  the  fellows  that  had  been  with  me  in  that  little 
excursion  into  the  Creek  Xation. 

I  was  not  at  home  a  week  before  I  found  myself 
with  plenty  to  do ;  and  during  June  and  July  I  was  sent 
for  in  every  direction  to  see  sick  people,  and  there  was 
sickness  enough  in  all  conscience.  The  whole  country 
was  down  with  malarial  fever.  There  were  not  enough 
well  people  to  wait  on  the  sick  ones,  and  so  it  was 
that  in  private  families  people  suffered  for  the  want 
of  medical  attendance  and  the  want  of  nursing,  and 
Death  seemed  to  me  to  walk  in  the  wake  of  the  doctors. 
I  have  never  known  such  a  mortality  as  there  was 
at  that  time.  I  had  never  had  a  day's  sickness  in 
my  life,  and  never  thought  that  I  could  be  sick.  On 
the  4th  day  of  September  I  went  to  the  plantation  of 
Mr.  John  Ashurst.  The  Ashurst  family  had  taken  me 
up  as  a  doctor — John,  Robert,  and  Merrill,  and  ^Vard 
Crocket,  who  had  married  a  sister,  Miss  Ashurst,  and 
the  same  boy  that  I  had  stuck  the  pin  in  the  chair 
for  when  we  were  schoolboys  together  at  Lancaster — 
and  through  their  influence  I  had  plenty  to  do. 

On  the  4th  of  Sentember  I  went  to  John  Ashurst's, 
who  had  a  white  house  two  miles  from  the  village  of 
Mount  Meigs,  where  there  were  twenty  or  thirty  sick 


AN  ATTACK  OF  FEVER.  171 

negroes.  I  went  from  cabin  to  cabin,  prescribing  for 
them,  and  I  felt  very  tired  from  the  day's  work.  About 
twelve  o'clock  in  the  day,  when  I  had  made  my  rounds, 
I  felt  a  little  shiver  run  down  my  back.  I  made  my  way 
to  the  overseer's  house,  and  soon  I  had  a  heavier  chill, 
and  half  an  hour  later  a  raging  fever  with  delirium. 
The  fever  passed  off,  moderately,  toward  night,  and  I 
was  then  barely  able  to  mount  my  horse,  and  ride  slowly 
back  to  Mount  Meigs,  where  I  went  to  bed.  The  next 
day  Dr.  Lucas  came  to  see  me ;  he  was  exceedingly 
kind  to  me  and  prompt  in  coming,  although  he  was 
worked  to  death,  going  day  and  night,  with  more  to 
do  than  he  could  possibly  do  well.  When  he  came  in, 
he  examined  me  very  minutely.  Looking  around,  he 
saw  a  little  mulatto  girl,  Anarcha,  in  the  room,  and 
he  said,  "  Bring  me  a  string,  and  a  little  cotton,  and 
a  bowl ;  I  am  going  to  draw  a  little  blood  from  the 
doctor." 

I  said,  "  My  dear,  good  doctor,  you  are  not  going  to 
bleed  me,  are  you?" 

He  said,  "  Yes,  sir,  old  fellow,  I'm  going  to  bleed 
you." 

I  said,  "  Doctor,  do  you  think  I  will  die  to-night,  or 
before  to-morrow,  if  you  don't  bleed  me?" 

He  replied,  "  No,  by  God  !  you  won't  die  before  to- 
morrow if  I  do  not  bleed  you." 

"  Then,  doctor,"  I  said,  "  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  am 
not  bled  to-night." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  that  is  just  as  you  please ;   but 


172  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

you  ought  to  be  bled.     I  had  an  idea  that  you  were  a 

d d  contrary  fellow,  and  now  I  know  it." 

If  I  had  been  bled  I  should  never  have  got  well 
nor  been  here  to  tell  you  this  story.  I  was  very  ill ; 
the  fever  raged,  and  I  didn't  know  how  to  arrest  its 
progress  by  the  treatment  with  quinine.  This  was  be- 
fore the  days  of  quininisni,  and  fevers  were  allowed  to 
take  their  course.  Patients  were  bled,  purged,  admin- 
istered tartar  emetic,  and  given  fever-mixtures  every 
two  hours  during  the  twenty -four ;  the  patients  were 
salivated,  and  the  patients  died,  some  of  them  sooner 
than  others.  Those  who  were  bled  and  purged  the 
strongest  died  the  quickest.  I  got  worse  day  by  day. 
At  last  the  fourteenth  day  came,  and  the  fever  still 
continued.  By  that  time  there  were  no  doctors  to  be 
had.  Often  I  was  three  days  without  seeing  a  doctor. 
I  had  no  nurse ;  poor  Mrs.  Judkins  was  down  sick ;  one 
son  was  expected  to  die  in  the  same  house,  and  all  the 
servants  were  sick.  A  little  negro  girl  would  sleep  in 
the  room  with  me,  and  hand  me  a  drink  of  water  occa- 
sionally. But  I  had  no  treatment,  and  nothing  to  arrest 
the  progress  of  the  disease  or  of  the  fever.  On  the  four- 
teenth day  of  my  illness  a  young  Englishman,  living  in 
Montgomery,  a  druggist,  named  Thomas  B.  Coster,  hav- 
ing been  out  on  a  collecting  excursion,  happened  to 
arrive  in  Mount  Meigs  about  sundown.  He  stopped  at 
the  village  hotel  kept  by  Colonel  Freeney.  While  at 
supper  he  said  to  Mrs.  Freeney,  "  You  have  a  young 
doctor  living  here,  a  nice  young  fellow,  whom  I  know 


A  VOLUNTEER  NURSE.  173 

very  well.  Last  June  I  was  in  the  Creek  Nation  with 
him.  He  was  in  Captain  Ashurst's  company.  He  is 
from  South  Carolina.     Can  you  tell  me  about  him  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  can  tell  you  all  about  him.     He 

is  a  nice  young  fellow,  and  we  all  think  a  great  deal  of 

ihim,  and  we  are  all  fond  of  him ;   and  he  has  made 

friends  with  everybody.     But  he  isn't  going  to  be  with 

us  long ;  he  is  going  to  die  to-night,  they  tell  me." 

"  What?  Is  that  possible  ?  "  he  said.  " 'Where  does 
he  live  ?     Where  is  he  ?     I  must  go  to  see  him." 

"  Eight  up  the  street,  about  one  hundred  yards,"  Mrs. 
Freeney  said. 

So  he  came  up  to  see  me  at  once.  I  was  an  emaci- 
ated skeleton,  in  the  last  agonies,  and  with  little  or  no 
pulse,  and  a  cold,  clammy  sweat.  My  pulse  had  not 
been  felt  below  the  elbow  for  some  time  ;  but  my  mind 
was  perfectly  clear.  He  said,  "  Doctor,  what  are  you 
taking  ?  Who  is  attending  you  ?  "  I  said,  "  I  haven't 
seen  a  doctor  for  three  or  four  days." 

"  But,"  he  said,  "  are  you  taking  nothing  ?  Don't 
they  give  you  any  brandy?  Don't  they  give  you  any 
quinine  ?     Have  you  no  nurse  ? " 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  have  no  nurse,  for  there  are  not 
well  people  enough  to  wait  on  the  sick.  Poor  Mrs.  Jud- 
kins  is  sick  in  the  next  room  ;  her  son  is  going  to  die, 
and  there  is  nobody  to  wait  on  the  well  people  or  the 
sick  ones.  I  feel  that  I  am  dying ;  I  think  that  I  shall 
die  to-night." 

"  Who  is  to  sit  up  with  you  ?  "  he  asked.     When  I 


174  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

told  him  that  I  expected  nobody,  he  continued,  "  Then  I 
will  sit  np  with  you,  and  see  you  through  the  night." 

I  turned  over  and  wept  like  a  child  to  see  such  kind- 
ness, which  was  perfectly  disinterested.  All  that  I  re- 
member was  that,  during  the  night,  a  soft  hand  like  a 
woman's  would  be  placed  back  of  my  head,  and  his 
tender  voice,  saying,  "  Drink,  doctor ;  take  this  drink ; 
drink  just  this ;  it  is  only  a  little  brandy ; "  and  very 
soon  again  the  brandy  would  be  poured  down  me,  and 
then  again  the  same  voice  would  say,  "  Here,  doctor,  I 
have  some  quinine  that  I  travel  with,  and  I  am  going  to 
give  you  some  on  my  own  responsibility."  I  swallowed 
some  of  the  most  nauseous  doses  that  night,  but  I  felt 
that  the  hand  of  a  ministering  angel  had  been  tending 
me. 

The  next  morning  he  left  me.  He  bade  me  not 
despair ;  that  many  a  man  had  recovered  from  a  prostra- 
tion as  severe  as  mine,  and  he  hoped  that  I  would  get 
well.  That  was  the  turning-point  in  my  disease.  The 
reaction  was  brought  about  by  the  administering  of  the 
proper  remedies  in  the  hand  of  my  friend  Mr.  Coster. 
The  pulse  returned,  and  although  he  could  feel  it  when 
he  went  away  that  morning,  and  said  he  hoped  that  I 
would  get  well,  still  he  has  told  me  many  a  time  that 
he  never  expected  to  see  me  alive,  or  lay  his  eyes  on  me 
again.     My  recovery  was  very,  very  slow  indeed. 

Alabama  never  saw  so  sickly  a  season  as  that. 
Scarcely  a  single  family  escaped,  and  the  whole  coun- 
try was  left  in  mourning.     One  poor  fellow,  living  across 


PROPER  TREATMENT  OF  MALARIA.  175 

the  way  from  us,  who  had  moved  there  only  six  months 
before  from  Georgia,  lost  his  wife  and  two  children  and 
the  only  negro  that  he  had.  When  he  went  to  bury  his 
wife  there  was  no  one  to  help  him,  or  that  was  well 
enough  to  follow  her  coffin,  but  himself  and  two  or 
^three  negroes  that  officiated  at  the  grave.  That  year's 
sickness  was  a  great  lesson  to  me.  I  learned  much  from 
observation  and  from  experience,  and  especially  how 
much  mortality  followed  the  practice  of  the  doctors.  I 
became  exceedingly  conservative ;  I  never  bled,  and 
gave  as  little  medicine  as  possible.  But  it  was  not  long 
before  the  practice  of  the  country  was  completely  revolu- 
tionized. The  writings  of  Fearne  and  Erskine,  in  Ala- 
bama, were  the  first  to  throw  light  upon  the  proper 
method  of  treating  malaria  and  malarial  fevers.  Until 
their  day,  the  doctors  were  in  the  habit  of  bleeding 
and  physicking  people  until  the  fever  disappeared,  and 
then  giving  them  quinine,  a  grain  or  two,  three  times 
a  day.  But  Fearne  and  Erskine  and  others  preached 
the  doctrine  of  giving  it  without  any  regard  to  prelimi- 
nary treatment,  giving  it  always  in  the  beginning,  if 
possible,  and  giving  it  in  sufficient  doses  to  affect  the 
system  at  once.  But  to  return  to  myself :  I  was  con- 
fined to  the  house,  in  all,  about  two  months ;  for  my 
convalescence  was  very  slow,  and,  indeed,  I  sometimes 
despaired  of  getting  well  at  all.  It  left  me  with  an 
enlarged  spleen,  and  I  had  occasional  attacks  of  inter- 
mittent fever.  But  about  the  20th  of  November  I 
felt  strong  enough  to  undertake  the  journey  to  South 


176  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Carolina.  I  improved  every  day  from  that  moment, 
and  by  the  time  I  arrived  at  home,  which  was  about 
the  first  of  December,  I  felt  strong  enough  to  walk  two 
or  three  miles.  I  improved  very  rapidly.  Of  course,  I 
lost  my  hair,  but  that  soon  grew  out  again. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

My  courtship  — Obstacles   and  difficulties— My  secret  engagement  —  My 

marriage. 

When  I  was  about  eleven  years  of  age,  and  living  in 
Lancaster  village,  I  was  standing  by  my  mother  one  Sat- 
urday afternoon,  about  five  o'clock,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  when  I  saw  a  young  girl  coming  along  the 
street,  leading  her  little  brother  by  the  hand.  I  said, 
"  Oh,  see,  ma ;  what  a  pretty  little  girl !  Isn't  she  a 
beauty?     Who  is  she?" 

My  mother  replied,  "  That  is  the  daughter  of  Dr. 
Jones,  and  she  is  coming  here  to  see  me.  I  have  dressed 
you  up  in  your  best  clothes  expressly  to  receive  her." 
Presently  the  girl  came  in,  leading  her  little  brother.  I 
was  so  shy  and  confused  that  I  could  not  approach  to 
be  introduced  ;  but  from  that  time  I  was  dead  in  love 
with  her.  Soon  after  this  the  Franklin  Academy  was 
started  and  opened  for  pupils.  During  all  the  time  I 
was  there  I  was  loyal  to  Theresa,  She  was  my  ideal 
and  my  idol.  I  was  devoted  to  her  from  the  time  I 
was  eleven  and  she  eight.  After  I  went  to  college  at 
Columbia  she  was  sent  to  Barhamville,  to  Dr.  Marks's 


178  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

school,  near  Columbia,  and  I  used  occasionally  to  go  out 
v  to  the  school  to  make  her  visits,  and  also  to  see  some 
other  young  ladies  who  came  from  the  same  region  of 
country  that  I  did,  and  whom  I  Inew.  By  and  by  she 
graduated  at  the  school,  and  returned  home  a  year  be- 
fore I  did.  She  was  now  sixteen  or  seventeen,  and  had 
grown  to  be  a  fine  woman,  tall,  handsome,  and  very  soon 
was  a  great  belle,  while  I  was  a  comparative  pigmy. 

After  I  left  college  and  returned  home,  I  began  to 
study  medicine  with  Theresa's  uncle,  Dr.  Churchill  Jones. 
I  found  her  then  a  blooming  young  lady,  a  leader  and 
a  belle  in  society,  greatly  admired,  with  beaus  coming 
from  every  direction.  She  was  a  dashing  girl,  a  fine 
rider,  with  fine  accomplishments  and  great  beauty.  She 
had  some  little  fortune,  which  I  regretted  very  much, 
for  I  had  none.  As  I  was  now  twenty  years  old,  I  was 
very  much  afraid  that  she  might  forget  the  tender  attach- 
ment between  us  as  children.  She  had  many  and  rich 
beaus,  talented,  excellent,  splendid  fellows,  of  good  fami- 
lies and  of  fortune,  so  that  I  was  exceedingly  anxious  to 
let  her  know  that  I  had  the  same  affection  for  her  that 
I  always  had.  I  was  afraid  that  she  might  become  en- 
gaged to  some  of  the  young  men  that  were  flying  around 
her,  and  so  I  determined  to  let  her  know  that  childhood 
love  had  only  increased  with  manhood  growth.  I  tried 
my  best  to  tell  her  about  it,  but  I  could  not.  My  love 
was  so  profound  that  I  could  not  find  the  tongue  to 
express  it.  I  arranged  to  take  walks  with  her,  but  I 
never  could  speak.     I  talked  about  everything  but  the 


MY   COURTSHIP.  179 

thing  I  would  like  to  have  talked  about.  At  last,  seeing 
that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  speak  to  her,  I  sat  down 
and  wrote  her  a  note.  It  was  dated  the  fifth  day  of 
March,  1833 — fifty  years  ago.  I  told  her  that  I  had 
always  loved  her,  that  I  was  too  young  to  propose  mar- 
triage,  and  too  poor  to  marry ;  that  I  wanted  her  to 
know  of  my  affection,  and  I  wished  very  much  to  know 
whether  she  returned  it  or  not.  I  felt  that,  having 
written  to  her  once,  I  could  talk  to  her  when  oppor- 
tunity presented  itself.     My  brother  took  the  letter. 

I  shall  never  forget  with  what  anxiety  I  watched 
for  him., to  return  and  tell  me  all  that  happened.  She 
read  the  letter,  so  he  said  when  he  returned,  and  did 
not  seem  angered,  nor  did  she  throw  it  back  to  him. 
I  went  to  see  her,  but  I  could  hardly  bring  myself  to 
talk.  I  said:  "You  have  received  a  letter  from  me." 
She  said  that  she  had.  That  ended  it.  The  thing  went 
that  way  for  a  whole  month.  I  was  very  anxious  to 
know  what  she  meant.  At  last,  one  evening,  we  took  a 
walk,  partly  to  go  out  to  Mr.  James  Witherspoon's,  her 
brother-in-law,  who  lived  in  Cooterborough,  one  of  the 
suburbs  of  the  town  of  Lancaster.  We  walked  out  there 
with  a  party  of  young  people.  It  was  more  than  half  a 
mile,  but  I  could  not  talk  on  the  subjects  that  I  wanted 
to  talk  about.  I  was  pretty  sure  that  she  loved  me,  and 
yet  I  feared  that  perhaps  she  did  not.  I  thought  that 
I  would  have  the  thing  over  before  we  got  to  Mr. 
Witherspoon's  to  tea.  We  returned  by  a  longer  route, 
as  an  excuse  for  a  longer  walk.     It  was  a  beautiful  moon- 


180  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

light  night,  and  we  had  walked  about  half  a  mile  with- 
out my  coming  to  the  point.  I  said  to  myself,  "  What  a 
fool  I  am,  that  I  can  not  talk  to  this  girl  frankly  and 
openly."  My  heart  was  in  my  throat,  and  my  mouth  so 
dry  that  I  could  hardly  speak.  Looking  ahead  I  saw 
Mr.  Locke's  blacksmith  shop,  and  I  vowed  not  to  pass 
that  shop  without  knowing.  There  was  a  large  locust- 
tree  there,  and  we  stepped  under  it.     I  said: 

"  Theresa,  I  wrote  you  a  note  a  month  ago.  You  are 
seventeen  years  old  this  very  day,  and  you  are  old  enough 
to  think  of  what  that  note  contained.  I  did  not  ask  you 
to  marry  me,  but  I  do  ask  you  now — will  you  marry 
me?" 

She  said,  in  a  low,  tremulous  voice,  "  No,  Marion,  I 
can  never  marry  you." 

TYe  never  spoke  after  that  during  the  rest  of  the 
walk.  It  was  the  longest  quarter  of  a  mile  I  ever  walked 
in  my  life.  I  led  her  up  the  steps  of  her  house  and 
timidly  said  "  Good  night,"  and  went  away.  I  think  I 
was  the  most  miserable  wretch  that  was  ever  in  love.  I 
did  not  know  what  in  the  world  to  do.  I  did  not  sleep 
a  wink  that  night.  If  I  had  been  fond  of  liquor  I 
should  have  gone  off  and  got  drunk.  But  I  never  drank, 
and  would  not  get  drunk.  I  had  passed  through  college 
(two  years)  and  had  never  smoked  a  cigar.  But  I  went 
up  town  and  bought  some  common  American  cigars,  and 
sat  down  and  smoked  one,  and  I  felt  very  badly.  I  said, 
"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  get  drunk."  And  then  I  said, 
"No,  I  will  not;  I  wish  I  were  dead.     I  don't  know 


DESPONDENCY.  181 

what  I  was  born  for,  anyhow.  I  am  of  no  account,  and 
I  will  never  make  love  again.  She  is  right ;  she  ought 
never  to  marry  me.  The  world  looks  dark  to  me.  I 
wish  I  were  dead." 

I  was  very  unhappy,  taking  it  altogether.  I  lived  a 
half  a  mile  from  the  village.  And  from  Dr.  Jones's, 
where  I  studied  medicine,  I  could  see  my  sweetheart's 
house,  and  could  occasionally  see  her  walking  in  the 
garden  !  My  whole  life  was  changed  ;  I  was  embittered, 
and  I  did  not  know  how  to  judge  her.  I  said,  "  She  is 
like  all  women;  she  will  sell  herself  for  money.  She 
is  venal."  How  unkind  and  cruel  was  it  in  me  to  speak 
of  her  in  that  way  ;  I  could  not  understand  it.  Perhaps 
it  was  because  her  brother,  and  her  mother,  and  the  fam- 
ily opposed  me.  If  she  had  only  said  that  she  loved 
me  and  would  be  constant  to  me !  I  said,  "J  know  what 
it  is ;  there  is  some  young  fellow  from  North  Carolina, 
who  has  a  fortune,  and  is  a  matured  man,  and  every- 
thing for  a  girl  to  love.  She  liked  me  as  a  schoolboy, 
but  not  now  that  she  has  grown  to  be  a  magnificent 
woman."  So  I  soliloquized.  First,  I  upbraided  her,  and 
then  abused  myself.  Then  I  wished  that  I  were  dead, 
or  that  I  had  never  been  born,  and  at  last,  in  despair, 
I  went  to  my  father,  and  I  said  : 

"  Father,  I  know  you  are  \erj  poor,  but  don't  you 
think  you  could  manage  some  way  to  allow  me  to  leave 
this  place  %  If  I  had  a  few  hundred  dollars  I  could  go 
to  Alabama,  or  go  somewhere  ? " 

He  said,  "  My  son,  are  you  crazy  % " 


182  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  said,  "Xo  father,  I  am  not  crazy,  but  I  will  tell 
yon  what  is  the  matter.  You  know  that  Theresa  and  I 
have  been  sweethearts  all  cur  lives.  The  rich  Xorth 
Carolina  fellows  are  flourishing  around  her,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  some  little  time  ago  that  I  would  tell  her 
all  about  my  love  for  her.  But  she  rejected  me,  and  so 
I  would  lite  to  go  away  from  here ;  I  can  not  stand  it. 
I  can  not  study,  and  I  do  not  know  what  to  do/*'  He 
said,  "  My  dear  boy,  I  am  very  sony  for  you,  but  I  can 
not  help  you.  I  couldn't  give  you  one  hundred  dollars 
to  save  my  life.  I  advise  you  to  accept  the  inevitable. 
I  have  known  Theresa  from  her  infancy,  and  have  seen 
how  devoted  and  attentive  you  have  been  to  her.  I 
have  seen  her  grow  up  to  be  beautiful  and  accomplished, 
and  she  is  certainly  one  of  the  finest  women  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  nothing  would  have  made  me  so  happy  as  to 
have  called  her  my  daughter.  But  you  must  accept 
your  fate ;  you  must  work  on ;  not  give  up,  but  make 
a  man  of  yourself,  and  do  not  get  despondent,  or  neg- 
lect your  studies.     Go  to  work,  that  is  my  advice." 

I  never  went  to  the  village  in  the  daytime,  but  re- 
mained out  in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  occasionally  going 
to  the  village  at  night  to  see  some  of  the  boys  of  the 
town,  and  then  I  would  sneak  home  by  a  back  way.  I 
never  went  along  the  main  street,  for  it  was  almost  im- 
possible to  go  into  the  village  of  Lancaster  withont  going 
by  Dr.  Jones's  door.  I  never  passed  it ;  on  the  con- 
trary, I  avoided  it. 

One   day  I  happened  to  meet  Betsey  Witherspoon. 


A  REVELATION.  183 

She  was  a  cousin  of  Theresa  Jones,  and  her  bosom  and 
intimate  friend.  Soon  after  we  met  she  said,  "  Cousin 
Marion "  (we  always  called  each  other  cousins  although 
we  were  no  kin),  have  you  seen  Theresa  lately  ? " 

I  said,  "  No,  only  at  a  distance." 

"Well  how  are  you  and  Theresa  getting  on  these 
days?     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

I  said,  "  Cousin  Betsey,  you  surprise  me  by  the  ques- 
tion, and  it  also  hurts  me  very  much."    - 

She  said,  "  What  ?  " 

I  said,  "  I  am  wounded  by  your  putting  that  ques- 
tion to  me.     You  know  what  has  occurred." 

She  said,  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  do  not  understand 
you.  I  know  nothing  that  has  happened,  and  I  ask  you 
for  an  explanation." 

I  said.     "  Are  you  in  earnest  in  what  you  say  ? " 

She  said,  "Perfectly  so." 

"  Then,"  I  said,  "  I  will  tell  you.  Three  months 
ago  I  asked  Theresa  to  marry  me  when  I  got  a  profes- 
sion. She  said  '  No,'  and  that  is  all  that  has  passed  be- 
tween us.  Since  then  I  haven't  passed  her  house,  nor 
been  in  town  in  daytime.  I  am  a  changed  man ;  I  am 
nobody." 

She  said,  "  Cousin  Marion,  now  I  understand  things ; 
I  have  noticed  something  very  peculiar  about  Theresa 
lately.  She  has  been  very  reticent,  and  rather  sad,  but 
has  never  mentioned  your  name  to  me,  and  I  thought 
it  was  very  odd.  Now  I  know  that  she  loves  you  just 
as  well  as  you  love  her.     I  know  that  the  family  do  not 


184  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

want  her  to  marry  you,  and  I  presume  she  has  been 
trying  to  obey  her  mother,  and  has  sacrificed  her  heart 
for  the  peace  of  the  family.  She  has  been  as  dumb  to 
me  as  you  have  been  all  this  time.'' 

I  said,  "Ah,  if  I  thought  this  were  so  I  would  go 
back  to  her  again,  because  she  has  complete  possession  of 
my  heart.*' 

She  said,  "  I  think  if  I  were  in  your  place  I  would 
at  least  see  her,  and  know  exactly  what  her  feelings  are 
on  the  subject.*' 

I  replied,  "I  have  not  been  to  town  in  daylight  in 
three  months,  but  have  been  prowling  around  like  a 
night-owl.  I  haven't  passed  by  Mrs.  Jones's  house  since 
the  4th  of  last  April.** 

The  next  morning,  which  was  July  23,  1833,  I  left 
my  house  and  went  to  the  village,  not  knowing  exactly 
where  I  was  going,  or  what  I  was  going  for.  But  as  I 
was  walking  along  the  street  by  the  garden  of  Mrs. 
Jones  (it  was  one  of  those-  old-fashioned,  scolloped-paling 
fences),  to  my  great  surprise  and  delight,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  palings  was  Theresa,  walking  alone,  with  a 
rose-bud  in  her  hand.  So  I  stopped  suddenly,  bowed, 
and  said,  B  Good  morning,  Cousin  Theresa." 

She  said,  "  Good  morning." 

"  You  have  a  pretty  rose-bud  in  your  hand :  will  you 
give  it  to  me  ? "  She  gave  me  the  bud  through  the 
garden  fence ;  and  now,  my  dear  readers,  whenever  you 
may  call  to  see  me,  I  will  show  you  that  rose-bud.  This 
was  just  fifty  years  ago. 


A  MUTUAL  UNDERSTANDING.  185 

We  had  a  long  talk  that  morning,  and  she  told  me 
frankly  that  she  had  been  as  miserable  as  I  had  been ; 
but  she  tried  to  please  her  mother  by  saying  No  to 
me.  That  as  soon  as  she  had  sent  me  away  she  relented, 
and  would  have  gladly  welcomed  me  if  I  had  come  back. 
She  said  that  she  had  never  spoken  to  her  cousin  Betsey, 
nor  to  anybody,  and  had  carried  her  own  heavy  heart,  as 
I  had  carried  mine.  We  came  to  a  mutual  understand- 
ing, which  was  this : 

I  said,  "  Now,  I  will  love  you  forever.  I  will  seem 
not  to  care  anything  for  or  about  you.  I  will  never 
come  to  see  you  or  come  to  your  house,  unless  I  am 
invited.  I  will  not  even  dare  to  walk  with  you  to  or 
from  church.  I  will  never  persecute  you,  or  presume 
to  follow  you.  Nobody  in  this  world  must  know  that 
there  is  anything  between  us,  and  you  must  know  that 
I  have  the  utmost  confidence  in  you,  for  you  may  carry- 
on  all  the  innocent  flirtations  that  you  please,  and  I  beg 
of  you  to  have  the  same  confidence  in  me." 

With  that  understanding  we  parted,  and  I  saw  noth- 
ing more  of  her,  excepting  "at  a  distance ;  but  my  heart 
was  tranquil,  and  I  was  happy.  I  knew  that  she  re- 
turned my  affection,  and  that  was  all  I  wanted  to  know. 
I  was  happy  enough  to  see  her  in  the  distance,  and  my 
heart  was  throbbing  for  her,  as  I  knew  that  hers  was 
for  me.  I  was  poor,  and  she  waited  for  me  a  long  time. 
I  went  to  Charleston  and  attended  lectures,  and  came 
home.  I  never  had  a  fear  that  she  would  not  prove 
true  and  faithful  to  me.     I  wrote  to  her,  and  directed 


186  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

the  letters  to  my  brother.  When  he  saw  the  initials 
"  J.  M.  S."  on  the  seal  of  the  letter,  he  knew  it  was  for 
her.  This  thing  we  carried  on  until  I  graduated  in 
Philadelphia  and  came  home. 

Two  years  had  passed,  with  this  secret  hidden  from 
everybody  but  two — Betsey  "Witherspoon  and  my  broth- 
er. When  I  came  home  and  put  up  my  shingle  in 
Lancaster  as  a  doctor,  I  could  not  claim  her  hand,  as 
I  had  no  money,  and  no  home  to  take  her  to.  If  she 
were  willing  to  wait  until  I  could  make  her  a  home,  I 
was  happy.  When  I  returned  from  Philadelphia,  in 
May,  1835,  I  found  my  friend  Thornwell  settled  in 
Lancaster  as  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  church.  Theresa 
was  a  member  of  his  church,  and  her  family  were  also 
members  of  it,  and  her  uncle,  Dr.  Dunlap,  was  one  of  the 
deacons,  and  one  of  the  lights  of  the  church.  Theresa 
had  made  a  confidant  of  Mr.  Thornwell,  knowing  that 
he  was  my  bosom  friend  in  college.  She  told  him  all 
our  love  story  and  trials,  and  he  heartily  sympathized 
with  her.  When  I  returned  home  from  Philadelphia, 
he  immediately  came  to  see  me,  and  told  me  that  he 
knew  all  about  the  affair ;  so  I  threw  off  the  mask  en- 
tirely. I  went  to  Theresa's  house  every  day  or  two, 
went  to  church  with  her,  walked  with  her,  rode  with 
her,  and  was  a  good  deal  in  her  society.  Her  mother 
became  quite  uneasy,  and  was  very  anxious  and  un- 
happy, and  talked  with  her  brother,  Dr.  Dunlap,  and 
her  son,  Dr.  Push  Jones,  about  the  matter.  She  said, 
"  He  is  a  very  nice  fellow ;  I  have  known  him  ever  since 


THE   SECRET  IS  OUT.  187 

he  was  a  little  boy ;  but  Theresa  must  not  marry  him, 
and  the  affair  must  be  ended." 

At  last,  my  friend  Thornwell  came  down  to  see  me 
at  my  office,  and  he  said,  "  Well,  Marion,  old  boy,  there 
is  about  to  be  an  explosion.  The  secret  must  come  out 
^iow.  Annie"  (Annie  was  Theresa's  maid-servant,  a 
mulatto  girl,  a  little  older  than  she  was,  but  who  was 
in  the  secrets  of  her  mistress),  "  Annie  came  over  to  tell 
me  to  go  and  see  Miss  Theresa.  She  told-  me  that  the 
family  had  been  having  a  consultation,  and  that  she  had 
listened  and  heard  Mrs.  Jones  say,  'I  am  going  to  tax 
Theresa  with  this  business,  and  ask  her  if  she  is  going 
to  marry  Marion  Sims.  I  thought  all  this  matter  was 
dead  and  buried  long  ago,  but  now  it  seems  to  be  resus- 
citated.' This  young  colored  girl  heard  every  word  of 
the  consultation  from  an  adjoining  room,  and  went  at 
once  and  told  her  mistress,  Miss  Theresa,  all  about  it. 
Then  she  sent  the  girl  to  me,  and  said  that  I  must  come 
at  once  to  see  her." 

I  said,  "  Thornwell,  I  am  going  to  write  a  note  to 
Mrs.  Jones  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Thornwell ;  "  there  is  nothing 
else  to  do.  I  will  read  a  newspaper  while  you  write  the 
letter." 

In  about  five  minutes  I  had  written  a  nice  little  note 
to  Mrs.  Jones,  in  which  I  said  that  Theresa  and  my- 
self had  been  sweethearts  all  our  lives,  and  that  we  had 
been  engaged  for  the  past  two  years ;  that  I  did  not 
propose  marriage  now,  at  all ;  that  I  had  no  means  with 


1S8  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

which,  to  support  a  wife,  but  that  I  hoped  when  I  had 
made  a  position  for  myself  and  a  home  for  Theresa  to 
obtain  her  consent  to  our  union.  My  friend  Thornwell 
read  the  note,  and  said  I  had  done  exactly  right,  and 
then  added,  "]S"ow,  old  fellow,  we  will  see  what  can  be 
done." 

So  he  took  the  letter  up  to  Mrs.  Jones's.  Mrs.  Jones 
received  it,  read  its  contents  carefully,  cried  bitterly,  and 
after  a  while  she  said  she  could  not  give  her  consent  to 
the  marriage,  either  now  or  prospectively. 

My  friend  Thornwell  said,  "  Pray,  what  is  your  ob- 
jection to  him  ? "  She  had  no  particular  objection  to 
me,  only  that  I  did  not  belong  to  the  church.  To  this 
Thornwell  replied :  "  Two  years  ago,  I  was  not  a  mem- 
ber of  the  church  myself.  I  was  in  college  with  Marion 
Sims,  and  I  know  that  there  he  was  a  fellow  of  good 
morals.  He  swears  a  little  bit  occasionally,  but  he  can 
be  cured  of  that.  He  has  no  really  bad  habits,  and  now 
that  he  has  a  profession  he  will  be  able  to  make  his  way 
in  the  world.  Xow,  as  I  view  it,"  said  Thornwell,  con- 
tinuing, "  when  two  young  people's  hearts  have  clung 
to  each  other  as  long  as  theirs  have,  from  childhood  up, 
the  interference  of  parents  and  friends  is  a  very  serious 
matter,  unless  there  is  the  best  reason  for  it ;  and  here 
there  is  absolutely  none." 

Thornwell  told  her  that  she  was  all  wrong  in  this 
matter,  and  that  her  opposition  was  not  well  founded. 
He  said,  "  I  know  Marion  Sims  well.  He  is  an  honorable 
young  man,  and  will  never  elope  with  or  do  anything  to 


THE  RECONCILIATION".  189 

disgrace  your  daughter.  lie  will,  I  am  sure,  be  a  good 
husband  to  her,  and  a  dutiful  son-in-law.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  you  to  separate  these  two  young  people,  and 
I  advise  you,  as  your  pastor,  to  dismiss  the  whole  of  this 
nonsense,  and  let  them  come  together  now,  and  be  mar- 
Tied  whenever  he  has  a  home  to  which  he  may  take  her, 
and  not  till  then,  be  the  time  near  or  remote." 

There  were  ten  days  of  crying  and  grief,  all  of  which 
time  Theresa  was  kept  a  prisoner  in  her  little  room  up- 
stairs, except  when  she  came  down  to  her  meals.  I,  too, 
was  quarantined  by  Mr.  Thorn  well  at  my  office.  These 
were  days  of  anxious  solicitude  truly,  and  I  was  hoping 
every  day  for  the  termination  of  the  unhappy  aEair. 
At  last,  Mrs.  Jones  accepted  the  inevitable,  after  the 
plain  advice  given  her  by  her  pastor  and  friend  Thorn- 
well.  She  sent  for  her  daughter  and  kindly  told  her 
that  she  consented  to  the  union.  Mr.  Thornwell  came 
running  down  to  me  with  the  joyful  news,  and  told 
me  I  could  call  at  Mrs.  Jones's.  Of  course,  I  was 
promptly  there  on  time.  Mrs.  Jones  met  me  with  a 
smile  and  a  welcome,  making  no  allusion  whatever  to 
any  of  the  disagreeable  things  that  had  occurred.  Every- 
thing was  happily  understood,  without  our  talking  about 
it. 

This  was  in  the  month  of  June,  1835.  I  spent  the 
summer  in  Lancaster,  as  I  have  before  said.  My  un- 
happy medical  experience  there  has  already  been  related. 

On  the  13th  of  October,  I  left  for  Alabama.  I  have 
already  told  the  story  of  my  experience  there,  and  of  my 


190  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

return  to  South  Carolina  on  the  first  of  December,  1836, 
to  be  married,  We  were  married  on  the  21st  of  that 
month,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Thorn  well.  We  were  the  first 
couple  he  ever  married. 

I  propose  now  to  go  on  with  this  narrative,  which 
will  show  how,  in  the  end,  much  of  my  success  in  life 
has  been  due  to  my  wife's  co-operation,  and  to  her  wise 
and  good  advice. 

About  the  middle  of  January  we  went  to  Alabama. 
I  had  already  engaged  rooms  at  Mrs.  Judkins's,  where 
we  were  very  comfortably  and  cozily  located.  Soon 
after  our  arrival  Mr.-  Henry  Lucas  kindly  offered  me 
the  use  of  a  vacant  house  he  had  in  the  village.  This 
we  furnished  very  simply,  and  began  housekeeping.  I 
had  succeeded  in  making  many  friends,  as  I  before 
stated,  and  very  soon  I  was  pretty  well  occupied. 
We  spent  the  year  1836  at  Mount  Meigs.  I  was  con- 
tent with  my  position  and  business,  expected  to  remain 
there,  and  had  no  intention  of  changing  my  residence. 
But,  in  1837,  Dr.  Blakey,  who  practiced  medicine,  and 
planted  on  a  large  scale,  desired  to  give  up  a  part  of  his 
practice,  and  offered  me  a  partnership.  He  resided 
about  ten  miles  east  of  Mount  Meigs,  at  a  place  in  Ma- 
con County,  near  Cubahatchee  Creek.  His  offer  was 
so  favorable  that  I,  of  course,  accepted  it.  He  at  once 
introduced  me  into  a  very  large  practice,  in  the  Aber- 
crombie  neighborhood.  The  Abercrombies  were  all 
rich  and  influential,  and,  with  Dr.  Blakey's  indorsement 
and  their  patronage,  I  soon  had  as  much  as  I  could  pos- 


MY  HOME.  191 

sibly  do.  I  was  exceedingly  happy  in  my  new  posi- 
tion. I  had  a  little  piece  of  ground,  upon  which  there 
was  a  log-cabin  with  one  room,  and  I  had  an  addition 
built  to  it,  making  two,  and  there  our  first  two  chil- 
dren were  born. 


CHAPTEK  XII. 

I  think  of  abandoning  the  profession — A  severe  attack  of  fever — My  wife 
and  children  ill  with  fever — I  resolve  to  seek  a  new  home —  Journey 
to  Lowndes  County — Final  determination  to  settle  in  Montgomery. 

I  am  an  example  of  a  man  who  has  never  achieved 
the  ambition  of  his  early  life.  My  successes  have  been 
in  a  direction  that  I  never  dreamed  of  when  I  started. 
I  had  no  particular  interest  in  my  profession  at  the  be- 
ginning. I  studied  away  at  it,  and  at  the  end  of  five 
years  had  become  quite  a  respectable  physician,  and,  I  can 
say,  a  tolerably  successful  one.  Still,  I  was  really  ready, 
at  any  time  and  at  any  moment,  to  take  up  anything  that 
offered,  or  that  held  out  an  inducement  of  fortune,  be- 
cause I  knew  that  I  could  never  make  a  fortune  out  of 
the  practice  of  medicine.  I,  of  course,  never  dreamed  of 
making  any  other  than  a  local  reputation. 

While  I  was  comfortably  situated  with  Dr.  Blakey, 
and  getting  on  so  well,  I  received  a  letter  from  George 
Brown,  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  a  cousin  of  Miss  Ed- 
munds, and  whom  I  had  known  very  well  when  I  was 
a  medical  student  there.  He  wrote  that  some  capitalists 
there  had  offered  him  a  credit  of  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  Philadelphia,  if  he  would  take  a  stock  of  cloth- 


ABOUT  ABANDONING  THE  PROFESSION.        193 

ing,  go  to  Vicksburg,  Mississippi,  and  set  up  a  large 
clothing  -  house.  He  offered  to  make  me,  without  any 
money  consideration,  a  half-partner,  if  I  would  quit  the 
practice  of  medicine  and  join  him  in  this  commercial 
enterprise.  I  immediately  said,  "  What  is  the  use  of  my 
struggling  here  always,  for  two  thousand  or  three  .thou- 
sand dollars  a  year,  with  no  prospect  of  any  advancement 
in  life,  when  such  an  offer  comes  to  me  unsought  and 
unsolicited  ? " 

So  I  immediately  informed  Dr.  Blakey  of  the  offer, 
and  of  my  determination  to  give  up  the  profession  and 
become  a  clothing-merchant  in  Yicksburg.  I  sold  out 
my  little  home,  got  four  hundred  dollars  for  it,  and  was 
preparing  to  go  to  Yicksburg  in  the  month  of  October 
(1838).  Just  as  I  got  ready  and  was  about  to  leave,  I 
received  news  from  Mr.  Brown  that  the  whole  thing 
had  exploded,  and  that  he  could  not  go  to  Yicksburg. 
Financial  embarrassments  among  the  men  that  wanted 
to  set  him  up  in  business  had  caused  the  trouble.  I 
had  acted  hastily  and  unwisely.  I  was  greatly  disap- 
pointed, but  had  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  return  to  my 
practice  again.  Dr.  Blakey  was  only  too  glad  to  have 
me  remain,  but,  having  sold  my  house,  I  moved 
across  the  Cubahatchee  Swamp,  into  what  was  called 
Cubahatchee,  only  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  from  Dr, 
Blakey's.  I  there  wrent  to  work  again  and  in  real  ear- 
nest, giving  up  all  ideas  of  getting  rich  fast.  In  1839 
I  had  all  the  practice  I  could  possibly  attend  to.  I  had 
the  confidence  of  the  community  in  which  I  lived,  and 


194  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

even  the  affection  of  everybody.  I  was  perfectly  happy. 
I  had  a  beautiful  wife,  whom  I  loved  to  distraction,  and 
two  lovely  children,  and  was  making  three  thousand 
dollars  a  year.  I  had  a  double-barreled  shot-gun,  a 
pointer  dog,  and  I  took  life  lightly.  There  never  was 
a  fellow  so  happy  as  I,  and  I  expected  to  remain  there 
forever.  I  never  dreamed  that  any  misfortune  could 
ever  drive  me  away  from  the  place  in  which  I  was 
seemingly  so  firmly  anchored.  Everything  was  going 
on  smoothly  and  carelessly,  as  it  were.  When  I  was 
sent  for  to  go  to  a  plantation  to  see  sick  negroes,  I 
mounted  my  pony,  with  my  gun  on  my  shoulder,  and 
my  medical  saddle-bags  behind  me,  and  with  my  dog 
trotting  by  my  side ;  so,  if  in  galloping  along  through  a 
piece  of  piney  woods,  or  in  the  swamps,  any  small  game 
made  its  appearance,  like  a  covey  of  partridges  or  a 
squirrel,  I  would  blaze  away,  bring  down  my  game,  dis- 
mount, secure  my  prize,  and  then  I  would  jump  on  my 
horse  and  gallop  off.  I  never  made  a  visit  in  daytime 
that  I  did  not  succeed  in  bagging  a  partridge  or  squirrel, 
and  sometimes  a  wild  duck. 

The  year  1839  came  and  went  in  this  free  and  easy 
way,  and  1840  also  came  and  was  passing.  But  it  was 
a  sickly  year,  and  malarial  fevers  were  everywhere,  often 
assuming  a  congestive  form,  in  which  men  would  die 
sometimes  in  eight  hours ;  often  less.  It  was  an  awful 
thing  to  see  a  man  walking  about  to-day  strong  and 
well,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  perfect  health,  suddenly 
stricken  down  with  a  little  chill,  going  into  a  collapse, 


SEIZED  WITH  A  CHILL.  195 

and  dying  in  a  few  hours.  There  were  many  snch 
deaths  as  that  during  the  summer ;  more  than  I  had 
seen  any  season  before. 

Early  in  July  (1840),  about  the  5th  or  6th,  as  I  was 
returning  from  Mr.  Abercrombie's  plantation,  I  felt  a 
slight  chill  pass  over  me,  and  the  sensation  ran  down  my 
spine.  I  soon  reached  home  and  went  to  bed.  There 
was  a  slight  reaction  afterward,  and  I  did  not  consider 
myself  a  sick  man.  The  next  day  I  visited  patients, 
had  no  paroxysm  of  fever,  and  did  not  fear  any  return 
of  it.  The  next  day,  however,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  my  wife  and  myself  were  walking  in  the  gar- 
den, looking  at  the  peas  and  beans,  and  other  little 
things,  growing  so  finely,  when,  all  at  once,  a  little 
shiver  ran  down  my  back.  I  went  into  the  house  and 
was  put  to  bed.  This  chill  increased  in  severity,  and  it 
was  nothing  like  I  had  had  two  days  before.  At  twelve 
o'clock,  four  hours  from  the  first  sensations  of  chilli- 
ness, I  was  in  a  complete  collapse,  with  no  pulse  above 
the  wrist,  and  a  cold,  clammy  sweat  on  me,  with  great 
internal  heat,  jactitation,  and  labored  breathing,  and  the 
utmost  prostration — yet  with  my  intellect  clear  and  un- 
disturbed. 

There  was  no  doctor  anywhere  near.  My  wife  and 
two  sisters,  and  Mr.  George  Brown,  who  a  year  before 
wished  to  make  a  merchant  of  me,  were  there.  They 
gave  me  stimulants  and  had  me  wrapped  up  in  mus- 
tard-plasters. I  felt  that  I  was  dying.  There  was  no 
reaction ;   I  was  rubbed  and  plastered,  and  there  was 


196  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

nothing  else  to  be  done,  or  that  could  be  done.  I  felt 
that  I  could  possibly  live  but  a  few  hours ;  that  I  must 
certainly  die.  But  how  hard  is  death  for  the  young, 
when  life  is  full  of  promise ;  and  how  hard  it  was 
for  me  to  leave  my  wife  and  children,  knowing  that 
they  would  have  to  struggle  with  the  cold  world  and 
its  hardships,  without  much  money  to  aid  them ;  for 
when  we  were  married  I  had  nothing,  and  Theresa 
had  only  a  little.  I  did  feel  at  one  time  that  I  would 
speak  to  her;  I  hated  to  think  of  her  ever  loving 
and  marrying  another  man.  All  these  thoughts  came 
to  me  when  I  thought  I  was  dying.  Then  I  said  to 
myself,  "  I  will  not  be  so  mean  as  to  speak  to  her 
and  annoy  her  on  this  subject ;  I  will  die  as  I  am,  and 
Providence  will  take  care  of  her."  No  man  ever  died 
with  more  of  the  consciousness  of  death  than  I  experi- 
enced then.  I  am  sure  that  I  was  in  a  moribund  state. 
I  felt  that  I  was  sinking  and  disappearing  from  the 
world.  As  I  lay  on  my  back,  things  became  smaller, 
and  my  wife  and  sisters  seemed  to  be  sinking  more  and 
more,  and  gradually  to  be  receding  from  me  and  from 
the  room.  I  seemed  to  be  sinking  down  into  a  nar- 
rower and  narrower  and  lower  channel ;  and  then  I 
would  shut  my  eyes  and  immediately  open  them  again. 
Calling  reason  to  my  aid  again,  I  would  try  to  discover 
the  manner  and  secret  of  death;  and,  although  but  a 
second  would  elapse  from  their  opening,  still  it  seemed 
to  be  an  eternity.  I  looked  upward,  and  I  thought  my 
friends  were  twenty  or  thirty  feet  away  from  me.    I 


RELIEF  FROM  A  MUSTARD-PLASTER.  197 

could  hear  their  voices  quite  distinctly  and  understand 
all  that  was  said  ;  but  I  gradually  sank  lower,  and  lower, 
and  lower,  till  I  looked  up  through  the  narrow  channel 
in  which  I  lay,  and  I  could  see  them  fifty  or  one  hun- 
dred feet  above  me.  When  I  called  again  my  own 
reason,  I  knew  that  I  was  on  the  same  level  with  them. 
But  I  had  the  sensation  that  I  was  sinking  lower  and 
lower,  getting  weaker  and  weaker,  that  soon  my  eyes 
would  be  closed,  and  I  should  see  them  no  more  for- 
ever. 

Almost  at  the  last,  when  I  seemed  to  be  a  great 
distance  below  my  wife  and  sisters,  I  whispered,  "  Can 
you  not  make  a  mustard-plaster  as  broad  as  my  back 
and  as  long  ?  I  feel  that  I  am  dead  in  everything  ex- 
cept my  intellect,  and  that  is  so  obscured  that  I  seem 
to  be  a  great  distance  below  you ;  and  yet  my  senses 
tell  me  that  I  am  on  the  same  level  with  you."  As 
quick  as  it  could  be  done,  the  plaster  was  spread,  just 
as  I  had  ordered.  I  was  rolled  over,  and  the  plaster 
was  placed  on  the  spine,  from  the  nape  of  the  neck, 
the  whole  length,  and  as  broad  as  the  back  itself.  I 
turned  over  upon  this,  and  in  the  course  of  I  know 
not  how  long — it  might  have  been  fifteen  minutes,  and 
it  may  have  been  an  hour,  for  I  had  no  way  of  meas- 
uring time — I  felt  a  slight  sensation  of  warmth  in 
the  region  covered  by  the  plaster.  That  warmth  was 
agreeable ;  it  was  not  at  all  uncomfortable  as  it  in- 
creased ;  and,  strange  to  say,  just  in  proportion  as  the 
burning  increased  on  the  back,  in  just  that  proportion 


198  THE -STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  seemed  to  experience  relief.  I  began  to  improve  with 
the  burning ;  for  when  it  was  placed  there  I  was  sink- 
ing down,  down,  down ;  but,  as  the  plaster  began  to 
burn,  it  resisted  this  sinking  oppression,  and  I  felt  my- 
self gradually  rising,  gently,  gently,  gently,  getting 
nearer  to  my  wife  and  my  sisters,  until  I  was  within 
a  few  feet,  seemingly,  of  the  top  of  a  great  pit,  into 
which  I  had  been  sunken.  After  a  while  the  burning 
increased  in  my  back,  and  I  looked  around  on  the 
same  level  with  the  rest  of  my  family.  I  could  breathe 
freely,  and  I  felt  that  life  was  coming  back  to  me 
again.  Strange  to  say,  at  the  time  I  seemed  to  rise 
to  the  surface  the  cold,  clammy  sweat  was  beginning 
to  disappear ;  warmth  began  to  return  to  my  body  gen- 
erally, and  in  the  course  of  four  hours  it  was  seen  that 
there  was  a  possible  chance  for  me  to  recover.  I  was 
in  a  collapse,  from  twelve  o'clock  until  eight. 

By  eight  o'clock  at  night  I  had  got  a  pulse;  my 
skin  was  warm  and  dry,  my  head  was  clear,  and  I  was 
saved.  These  were  the  sensations  of  death  that  I  know 
I  should  have  had  if  I  had  died.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
the  providential  application  of  the  mustard-plaster,  and 
the  proper  remedies,  at  the  proper  time,  I  should  surely 
have  died. 

Every  day,  at  the  same  hour,  my  case  was  attended 
with  dangerous  symptoms ;  but  they  were  those  which 
we  find  in  new  countries,  "West  and  South,  as  the  result 
of  malarial  poisoning,  coming  from  a  decomposition 
of  vegetable   matter  in   alluvial  soils,   which   endanger 


BATTLING   WITH  THE   FEVER.  199 

health.  The  conditions  are  favorable  to  engendering 
chills  under  such  circumstances.  When  they  assume 
a  congestive  character  they  are  pernicious,  and  are  al- 
ways dangerous.  It  is  uncommon  for  one  to  escape 
the  third  chill.  I  knew  this,  and  I  realized  the  danger 
Jn  which  I  was  placed.  The  chills  that  anticipate  are 
more  dangerous  than  those  that  procrastinate.  My  first 
chill  was  a  little  trifling  thing,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
day;  the  second  was  an  enormous  congestive  chill  at 
twelve  o'clock  in  the  morning;  thus  anticipating  four 
hours.  I  feared  that  the  next  would  come  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  or  forty-four  instead  of  forty-eight 
hours  later.     If  it  came  then  I  knew  that  I  must  die. 

I  sent  a  messenger  at  once  for  Dr.  Holt,  at  Mont- 
gomery, and  one  of  the  most  eminent  practitioners  of 
that  city.  He  was  engaged  in  an  enormous  practice. 
I  had  no  claims  upon  him ;  I  knew  him  but  little ;  but, 
when  he  heard  that  a  young  brother  was  thus  danger- 
ously ill,  he  left  his  practice  and  came  twenty  miles  to 
see  me.  There  were  no  railroads  at  that  time,  and  he 
had  to  drive  in  his  sulky  to  Mount  Meigs.  As  soon  as 
he  got  a  history  of  my  case,  he  said : 

"  Well  you  must  not  have  another  chill  at  four 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  If  you  do  you  will  die. 
But  we  will  prevent  it.  Thirty  grains  of  quinine,  taken 
between  now  and  midnight,  will  save  it.  You  must 
take  it  until  you  feel  a  little  ringing  sensation  in  your 
ears;  keep  your  bed,  keep  warm,  and  keep  up  good 
courage.     Above   all,   take   the   quinine ;   for  bed,  and 


200  THE   STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

warmth,  and  good  courage  alone  can  not  save  you. 
They  are  only  assistants  to  the  specific  remedies  that 
will  certainly  prevent  a  paroxysm." 

How  anxiously  I  looked  for  that  four  o'clock  the 
next  morning.  At  midnight  I  was  snug  and  comforta- 
ble and  warm,  with  quite  a  pulse  and  soft  skin ;  but  I 
could  not  feel  safe  until  four  o'clock  came.  At  four 
o'clock  I  was  asleep ;  but  yet  I  could  feel  that  the  secret 
enemy  was  at  work.  To  my  joy,  and  as  I  expected,  of 
course,  I  did  not  have  a  chill.  At  four  o'clock,  pre- 
cisely, my  nose  began  bleeding,  and  that  the  ancients 
would  have  termed  a  critical  discharge.  The  chill  did 
not  come. 

In  a  few  days  I  was  up,  and  in  a  month  my  wife 
was  down  with  intermittent  fever,  my  children  were 
sick  with  it,  my  servants  were  attacked,  I  had  a  recur- 
rence of  it,  and  altogether  we  were  a  sorely-afflicted 
family. 

I  had  been  very  happy  there,  and  I  thought  that 
nothing  in  the  world  would  ever  induce  me  to  leave 
Cubahatchee.  I  had  everything  in  the  world  that  a  man 
wanted  or  needed  to  make  him  comfortable  and  happy, 
and  to  make  him  satisfied  in  life.  But  I  said  to  myself : 
"  What  is  life  without  health  ?  Three  thousand  dollars 
a  year  is  nothing,  though  it  is  a  great  deal  for  a  young 
man  to  earn  in  this  day  and  age  of  the  world.  I  would 
rather  live  in  the  piney  woods,  or  in  any  place  in  the 
world,  and  be  sure  of  health,  and  just  have  enough  to 
get  along  with."     So  I  counseled  with  my  wife,  and  I 


RESOLVE  UPON  A  CHANGE.  201 

said :  "  We  can  not  stay  here.  We  have  good  friends 
that  love  us  dearly,  and  who  would  be  sorely  afflicted 
to  give  us  up,  but  what  is  the  use -of  our  staying  here 
when  we  see  that  we  must  always  be  sick  ?  " 

She  agreed  with  me,  and  seemed  to  be  perfectly  will- 
ing to  go,  though  she  regretted  leaving  friends  whom 
we  had  made  there.  My  first  idea  was  to  go  to  Lowndes 
County,  where  my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Rush  Jones,  re- 
sided. He  practiced  medicine  and  planted  cotton  exten- 
sively. He  had  a  fine  plantation ;  was  doing  admirably 
well  from  every  point  of  view.  I  thought  I  would  be 
very  happy  in  his  neighborhood,  as  we  had  been  boys 
together  and  always  were  bosom  friends.  I  started  off, 
very  feebly,  in  the  month  of  November  (1840).  I  went 
to  Montgomery,  twenty  miles  distant,  which  was  nearly 
half  way  to  my  brother-in-law's.  There  I  stopped  at 
"  Montgomery  Hall." 

I  happened  to  be  very  well  acquainted  with  Dr. 
Goff,  a  young  man  of  fine  family,  well  educated,  and 
a  very  promising  young  doctor.  But,  while  he  had 
money,  he  also  had  bad  habits.  He  was  not  strictly  a 
drunkard,  but  he  got  drunk.  He  played  cards,  and  neg- 
lected his  business  altogether,  so  that  he  never  could  have 
been  expected  to  rise  to  any  great  eminence  in  his  pro- 
fession, with  his  habits  of  life.  He  happened  to  stroll 
into  "  Montgomery  Hall "  just  after  I  had  arrived  there. 
In  the  course  of  the  conversation  I  told  him  how  very 
ill  I  had  been,  how  ill  I  was  then ;  that  I  was  broken 
down  with  intermittent  fever,  and  told  him  all  about 


-    -  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LUI 

mj  family,  and  that  I  w,-         :sed  up  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  leave  Cubahatehee. 

That  is  very  unfortunate,55  he  said,  afor  I  have 
never  heard  of  a  young  fellow  doing  so  well  as  you 
are  doing  there.     Everybody  loves  you,  and  everybody 
-  -  you,  and  what  aze  the  people  up  there 

going  to  do  withou:  What  are  you  intending  to 

do,  or  where  are  yon  g ; 

"I  am  on  my  way  tc    Lowndes  C  juniy,"  I  replied, 
my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Hush  Jones,  in  search  of 
a  location  th^:-  —  ::h  or  near  him.55 

Not  to  find  health,  are  yon  You  will  not  find  it 
there,  my  dear  feHo~.  I:  h  i  worse  place  than  where 
yon  are.  In  place  of  going  there  to  Lowndes  County, 
why   1     you  not  locate  here  in  Monigome: 

: :  Montgomery  I  said.  a  That  is  impossi- 
ble. I  am  nothing  out  a  little  country  doctor,  from  die 
pin;  ~  ;  with  no  money  and  no  reputation  to  start 
on,  and  a  family  of  children  dependent  upon  me,  and  I 
mutt  go  to  some  place  where  it  would  be  easier  to  get 
practice,  and  where  people  would  be  obliged  to  employ 
me,  wl  dshed  to  or  not.    And  besides,  you 

have  too  many  great  doctors  here  in  the  profession,  and 
I  would  ?LoTve  to  death  with  you.5' 

"O,  no.  Dr.  Sims,  you  would  not,"  he  quickly  re- 
plied ;    "  you  would  not  starve  to  death.     You  are  a 
man  of  industry,  and  such  application,  such  courage,  and 
don  to  your  profession  as  you  have  shown, 
rest  assured,  old  fellow,  would  soon  be  appreciated  in 


URGED   TO  RESIDE  IN  MONTGOMERY.  203 

Montgomery.  You  would  make  hosts  of  friends  and  a 
place  among  us  here ;  and,  what  is  more,  you  would  hold 
it  too.  You  had  better  think  of  what  I  am  telling  you, 
and  if  you  must  leave  where  you  are,  where  you  seem 
to  be  so  pleasantly  located,  and  where  you  are  loved, 
and  respected,  and  honored,  think  seriously  of  coming 
to  Montgomery,  and  not  of  spending  your  time  in  such 
a  place  as  Lowndes  County,  with  your  brother-in-law." 

It  had  never  occurred  to  me  to  think  of  going 
to  Montgomery.  I  was  too  diffident  of  myself,  and 
too  modest  in  my  aspirations,  to  dream  of  looking  so 
high,  and  that  in  a  city  which  was  full  of  older  men, 
high  up  in  their  profession.  So  I  left  the  very  next 
morning  for  Lowndes  County.  But  I  could  not  get  rid 
of  the  idea  that  Joe  Goff  had  put  into  my  mind.  It 
haunted  me  all  the  way  that  I  went,  and  all  the  next  day. 
When  I  neared  my  brother-in-law's  house,  every  cabin 
that  we  passed  had  sick  people  in  it.  Everybody  looked 
as  if  he  was  malarially  poisoned.  I  went  by  no  house 
where  there  was  not  one  or  more  beds  stretched  out 
before  the  door,  with  servants  fanning  some  members 
of  the  family  that  were  down  sick  with  the  malarial  or 
intermittent  fever. 

I  arrived  at  my  brother-in-law's  house,  and  found 
that  he  was  in  a  nest  of  intermittent  fever.  His  negroes 
were  sick,  and  he  was  not  well  himself.  His  overseer 
was  sick,  and  there  was  sickness  everywhere  around. 
That  satisfied  me  that  I  must  not  think  of  locating  there ; 
that  I  might  just  as  well  remain  where  I  was  at  Cuba- 


204  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

hatchee  as  to  come  down  to  Lowndes  County.  Joseph 
Goff  s  idea  about  coming  to  Montgomery  had  lifted  me 
so  up  out  of  myself  that  I  could  not  very  well  get  rid 
of  it.  I  went  home  and  had  a  consultation  with  my 
wife.  She  saw  the  situation  at  once,  and  immediately 
said,  "  Montgomery  is  the  place,  and  to  Montgomery  we 
will  go." 

I  was  greatly  elated  about  it,  and  still  I  was  very 
unhappy  at  the  idea  of  leaving  Cubahatchee.  I  was 
really  afraid  to  tell  the  Abercrombies — Charles,  Milo, 
and  John,  three  brothers — that  I  was  going  to  leave.  I 
dreaded  to  leave  them.  I  managed  to  let  them  find  out 
my  plans  through  the  neighbors,  for  I  knew  that  we 
would  have  a  scene.  Two  days  after,  Milo  Abercrombie 
came  to  my  house.  I  saw  him  in  the  distance  and  I 
knew  what  he  was  coming  for.  He  hitched  his  horse  to 
the  fence,  and  walked  into  the  house  where  my  wife  and 
children  were,  looking  like  a  mad  bear.  He  said,  gruffly, 
"Good  morning." 

I  said,  pleasantly,  "  Good  morning,  Mr.  Abercrom- 
bie." 

He  said,  "  I  have  just  come  down  to  see  if  you  have 
lost  your  senses.  I  am  told  that  you  are  going  away 
from  here." 

I  replied  that  there  was  too  much  sickness  there  for 
me.  He  retorted  by  asking  me  where  I  expected  to 
get  away  from  sickness,  and,  if  I  did  find  such  a  place, 
how  I  expected  to  live.  "  Look  here,  old  fellow,"  he 
continued,  "  are  you  a  fool  ?    I  have  come  here  to  give 


OPPOSITION  OF  FRIENDS.  205 

you  a  piece  of  my  mind.  You  have  friends  here  that 
love  you  and  who  do  not  want  to  give  you  up.  Of 
course  we  are  a  little  bit  selfish  in  this,  but  we  have  an 
interest  in  you,  and  want  to  see  you  do  well  in  this 
world,  for  you  are  worthy  of  it.  If  you  go  to  Mont- 
gomery, and  settle  down  there  with  your  family,  expect- 
ing to  support  yourself  by  practicing,  and  with  nothing 
else  to  support  yourself — if  you  expect  that,  you  will  be 
very  much  mistaken.  I  advise  you  to  le't  well  enough 
alone,  and  stay  where  you  are,  among  us,  where  you  will 
be  well  taken  care  of  and  live  like  a  lord,  honored,  and 
respected,  and  beloved,  with  plenty  to  do  and  everything 
flourishing  around  you.  What  more  can  a  man  want  in 
this  world  ?    You  must  not  leave  us." 

I  said,  "  Milo,  I  am  very  sorry  to  leave  you  and  go  to 
Montgomery.  But  I  have  had  a  consultation  with  my 
good  adviser,  in  whose  judgment  I  put  the  utmost  confi- 
dence— my  wife.  We  have  thought  seriously  about  this 
matter.  It  is  not  a  sudden  or  impulsive  thing,  my  wife 
and  I  having  reasoned  it  out  together.  We  have  made 
up  our  minds  to  go  to  Montgomery.  We  leave  with  a 
great  many  regrets,  and  with  many  thanks  for  all  the 
kindnesses  you  have  shown  us  since  we  have  been  here. 
You  will  always  find  us  to  be  grateful  to  you,  for  you 
have  been  friends  to  us  when  we  needed  friends." 

Still,  Mr.  Abercrombie  was  not  satisfied.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  that  we  got  ready  and  removed  to  Montgomery. 
Mr.  Cromelin,  a  very  eminent  lawyer,  whom  I  had 
known  favorably  before  I  went  to  Montgomery,  when 


206  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  was  the  family  physician  of  Mr.  Lucas  and  his  wife 
at  Mount  Meigs,  Mr.  Cromelin's  wife  being  a  niece  of 
Mr.  Lucas,  was  prepared  to  welcome  us  to  Montgomery 
at  once,  and  promised  us  his  practice.  He  gave  me  a 
handsome  house  to  live  in  at  a  rent  of  three  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  feeling  very  sure  that  he  would  have  to 
pay  me  that  much  money,  so  that  the  rent  of  the  house 
would  be  paid  for  in  practice. 

We  went  into  this  house  on  my  favorite  13th  day 
of  the  month  of  December  (1840).  We  had  no  money, 
and  always  lived  from  hand  to  mouth.  Everything  was 
on  the  credit  system  in  that  day  and  time.  Nobody  had 
any  money  but  once  a  year,  when  the  cotton  crop  was 
sold  and  went  to  market,  the  first  of  January.  This  was 
a  settling  time  with  everybody.  So  when  I  went  to 
Montgomery  everybody  was  willing  to  give  me  credit 
for  dry-goods,  groceries,  etc.,  and  whatever  I  might  need. 
Everybody  else  was  in  the  same  fix.  At  the  end  of  the 
year  we  had  to  settle.  Well,  unfortunately,  the  day  after 
we  entered  the  house,  my  poor  wife  had  a  chill,  and 
I  don't  think  she  saw  a  well  day  for  six  months.  In 
the  course  of  twelve  months  from  the  date  of  my  first 
attack  of  congestive  chills,  I  had  seventeen  different 
attacks.  They  recurred  at  periods  varying  from  two 
to  three  and  four  weeks.  We  were  all  completely  ma- 
larialized  and  demoralized.  The  negroes  were  also  sick. 
Strangely  enough  to  say,  my  two  sisters  escaped,  neither 
of  them  having  intermittent  fever. 

I  lived  a  whole  year  in  Montgomery,  most  of  the  time 


SUCCESS  IN  MY   PROFESSION.  207 

in  bed.  By-and-by,  my  health  began  to  improve.  At 
the  end  of  two  years,  I  was  getting  into  practice  among 
the  rich  people  of  the  city.  I  had  the  Cromelins,  the 
Pollards,  the  Balls,  and  others.  These  belonged  to  the 
upper-crust ;  and  the  fact  of  my  being  physician  of  these 
aristocratic  families  naturally  interested  others.  But 
really,  I  had  to  begin  at  the  very  bottom.  The  first 
people  who  took  me  up  were  "free  niggers." 

Finally,  I  became  physician  to  the  Jewish  popula- 
tion of  the  town,  of  which  there  were  several  families. 
They  were  people  who  always  had  money  in  plenty,  and 
were  liberal  with  it.  They  were  very  clannish,  and  as  one 
or  two  of  the  leaders  would  go,  so  all  the  rest  followed. 
I  had  all  this  Jewish  practice,  which  was  a  large  and 
agreeable  one. 

I  was  the  first  man  at  the  South  that  had  ever 
successfully  treated  club-foot.  I  was  also  the  first  man 
that  had  ever  performed  an  operation  for  strabismus, 
or  cross-eyes.  At  the  end  of  five  years,  I  had  estab- 
lished a  reputation  as  a  judicious  practitioner  and  as  a 
skillful  surgeon,  and  was  getting  as  much  as  I  could  do. 
Montgomery  had  always  had  an  able  set  of  medical  men. 
They  were  talented,  and  I  never  saw  a  town  where  there 
was  so  little  bickering  and  jealousy  between  doctors.  A 
few  valuable  and  able  men  at  the  head  of  the  profession 
kept  the  others  in  the  proper  line,  and  in  the  right  way, 
so  that  their  influence  was  salutary.  When  head  men 
fall  out,  the  small  men  follow.  There  were  not  many 
small  men  among  the  profession  in  Montgomery.     They 


208  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

were  nearly  all  men  of  the  highest  character  as  gen- 
tlemen, and  they  were  skillful  physicians  besides  of 
learning  and  ability.  The  leading  men  of  the  day  were 
Drs.  Holt,  McCloud,  Ames,  McTThorter  and  Henry,  and 
all  of  them  were  busy,  with  as  much  as  they  could  do. 
Each  had  a  successful  practice,  and  there  were  never 
too  many  doctors  for  the  work  to  be  done.  The  men 
of  my  own  age  were  Drs.  Bowling,  Baldwin,  Birney  and 
Jones. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

Numerous  surgical  cases — Successful  treatment  of  a  hare-lip — I  write  a  de- 
scription of  the  case  for  the  "  Dental  Journal " — I  am  induced  by  Dr. 
Ames  to  publish  accounts  of  all  my  surgical  cases — My  dislike  for 
compositions  at  college,  and  an  experience  in  consequence. 

The  year  1845  was  a  memorable  era  in  my  life. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  turning-point  in  my  career.  Up 
to  the  time  that  I  went  to  Mount  Meigs,  I  was  willing  to 
turn  aside  to  do  anything  excepting  to  practice  medicine. 
But  when  I  went  to  Montgomery,  I  gave  away  my  dog 
and  sold  my  gun.  I  have  never  loaded  and  shot  a  gun 
since.  I  devoted  myself  to  my  profession,  determined  to 
do  my  best  in  it.  I  had  an  ambition  for  surgery — gen- 
eral surgery — and  performed  all  sorts  of  beautiful  and 
brilliant  operations.  This  was  before  the  days  of  anaes- 
thetics. I  had  made,  in  five  or  six  years,  such  a  reputa- 
tion for  surgery  that  people  came  to  me  from  forty  miles 
off.  Sick  people  were  brought  to  me  sometimes  from 
the  country,  by  those  who  would  bring  in  a  bale  of  cot- 
ton or  two  on  a  cart,  and  a  sick  patient  would  be  brought 
along  also.  That  was  a  reputation  worth  having.  I  was 
proud  of  it — I  was  very  happy  over  it. 

I  had  surgical  cases  of  all  sorts  coming  to  me  from 


the  country  around.  I  was  reiy  successful  as  a  surgeon. 
In  l^ie  latter  part  of  ISM,  there  eame  to  my  office  one 
day  a  young  woman  from  Lowndes  County,  who  was 

:*:•:-:  :lirrr  vf.ir=  :Li  Sie  iii  :i  i  ::i:ir  :i::i  v^ 
bine,  folded  double.  She  could  not  snow  herself  in  the 
-::—:.  =•:  lii^:~=  —  1=  -ir.  Sir  —  ii>ec  iii:  117  :z::r 
with  her  face  veiled,  and  said: 

"  I  have  beard  of  your  achievements  in  surgery,  Dr. 
Sims,  and  I  bare  come  to  see  if  you  could  do  anything 
for  me.  1  was  born  with  a  hare-lip,  and  I  am  so  ugly 
that  I  have  bad  to  wear  a  veil  to  prevent  my  face  from. 

I  said,  "  rliise  your  veil,  ani  ;_:~  me  :    se 

_t:    =."_■=  riiie  ::.  lie  fU*i:  ~i=   iirrizl-r.     Ii 

never  seen  sueb  a  bad  ease  of  hare-lip  before.    It  was 

r.  iriii^'      '.  ::   ir.i:   "_t    ri:    ::  ier  i:ii  ~i=    :    ^::".: 
"-.  :ir — i  fi:i: — n:  :::_  "It  i;    ei:  ::  ic:  i  ise  lien 
~i=      Fin.,  i  ".r  :r  : :   ;i.i.  -  -      -  -_-_  -~  :  •-.; -_:    ;:'  ::  i;-: 
ii_-    ".:  :  i:i^'    L:".-: :-  '.  -    •"       _   "■'..-:  :    -i     i       111 

i    :  i:   :ee:l.  :il  I   ::il:  !:•:£     --  :   i:~i  icr  :1: 
A_::rr"_7:.  _r:  ni_f ::i_:~::i  ~~  1=  zi^i:: 
I  said,  KI  can  curi  i:::l" 

"You  eanf 9  she  eagerly  replied,  as  a  ray  of  hope 

llr     llllrc     IrJ. 

I  sii-L  ■•Cfr-iiilj:  I  — iZ  r>e  -:-  *  ---  =*:  ■_-_ 
M-i:!.  =•:  in:  7:1  :n  ei:  lire  ::ler  :iii  ni  ~1ii.l1, 
if  7: 1  ~n:  " : .  1:  7:1  ~__  n  :  ~  :ie  ~me  : i  lie  =■:  ::- 
e~7  111  iiri::ii:i  ::'  7:1:  in':." 

:  '_  1  t  1 :  Vt  : :   i  11:111 


A  SUCCESSFUL  TREATMENT  OF  A   HARE-LIP.      211 

she  was  entirely  cured.  She  had  a  very  presentable 
mouth,  and  Dr.  Belangee,  who  was  the  leading  dentist 
of  the  town,  took  a  cast  of  the  roof  of  her  mouth,  and 
made  her  a  set  of  four  handsome  teeth.  When  he  had 
finished  his  part  of  the  work,  she  was  a  very  presentable 
.person  indeed,  and  really  a  pretty  woman.  Her  life,  of 
course,  was  enlivened  and  revolutionized. 

The  curing  of  this  woman  from  Lowndes  County  was 
of  itself  a  very  small  affair,  but  it  was  the  'beginning  of 
one  of  my  little  life  stories,  and  plays  a  by  no  means 
unimportant  part  in  it.  The  plaster  cast  made  by  Dr. 
Belangee  for  the  roof  of  the  woman's  mouth  was  given 
to  me,  and  for  some  time  it  lay  on  my  mantel-piece. 
Everybody  who  came  in  looked  at  it,  and  I  said,  "  That 
is  the  plaster  cast  of  Miss  So-and-so's  mouth,  of  Lowndes 
County."  Dr.  Harris,  of  Baltimore,  the  founder  of  the 
Baltimore  College  of  Dental  Surgery,  the  first  of  the 
kind  in  this  country  or  the  world,  and  his  friend  Dr. 
Lipscomb,  came  to  visit  Montgomery  in  the  year  1846. 
Through  the  Lipscomb  interest  in  the  county  and  among 
the  wealthy  classes,  Dr.  Harris  was  called  to  so  many  of 
the  aristocratic  families  that  for  two  or  three  months  he 
entirely  displaced  my  friend  Dr.  Belangee.  He  was  a 
magnificent  man,  of  fine  physical  beauty,  a  gentleman 
of  great  intellect,  great  kindness  of  heart,  and  a  very 
accomplished  dentist.  He  was  perhaps  the  very  best  of 
that  day  in  the  world. 

One  day  he  strolled  into  my  office.  I  had  been  to 
call  on  him,  and  he  returned  it.     Having  an  eye  quick 


212  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

to  discern  anything  pertaining  to  his  profession,  he 
walked  up  to  the  mantel,  and  picked  up  the  plaster  cast 
lying  there. 

"  Doctor,  what  is  this  ? "  he  asked,  after  he  had  looked 
it  over  carefully,  and  examined  the  wonderful  cast.  I 
gave  him  a  history  of  the  case,  as  above  related.  "  I  will 
tell  you  what,  Dr.  Sims,  I  would  like  you  to  do.  I  would 
like  you  to  write  an  account  of  it  for  the  September  num- 
ber of  my  '  Journal  of  Dental  Surgery.' " 

I  said,  "Doctor,  I  can't  write  anything.  I  never 
wrote  anything  in  my  life." 

"  But,"  he  said,  "  write  it  as  you  would  talk  it,  or  as 
you  have  told  it  to  me.     That  is  all ;  I  will  risk  you." 

"  I  should  be  ashamed,"  I  said,  "  to  see  anything  of 
mine  in  print.  I  am  counted  as  a  great  worker,  to  be 
sure,  and  I  always  keep  notes  of  my  cases ;  but  I  can  not 
write.  I  never  wrote  anything  in  my  life.  It  is  not  my 
forte." 

He  insisted,  however,  and  I  sat  down  and  wrote  a 
history  of  the  case  in  the  simplest  manner  possible,  and 
gave  it  to  him.  I  was  ashamed  of  it,  however,  when  I 
gave  it  to  him.  In  the  course  of  two  or  three  months 
after  I  had  written  the  article,  Dr.  Harris  sent  me  a 
number  of  the  "  Journal  of  Dental  Surgery,"  containing 
my  article,  and  a  little  wood-cut  illustrating  the  plaster 
cast.  I  read  the  article,  and  was  ashamed  of  it,  and  de- 
termined that  I  would  not  show  it  to  any  of  my  medical 
brethren.  I  arrived  at  this  conclusion  because  there  were 
a  number  of  literati  among  them ;  and,  though  I  was  not 


MY  DKEAD  OF  DR.  AMES.  213 

ashamed  or  afraid  to  perform  any  operation  before  them, 
or  even  in  the  presence  of  the  best  of  them,  still  I  did 
not  feel  that  I  was  competent  to  write ;  especially  when 
compared  to  Ames,  or  Bowling,  or  Baldwin. 

Bowling  was  a  most  voluminous  writer.  He  had 
^written  some  really  valuable  and  meritorious  articles 
for  the  medical  literature  of  the  country,  which  marked 
the  era  in  which  he  lived,  and  which  have  been  incor- 
porated into  the  literature  of  the  profession,  especially 
his  articles  on  the  "Endemic  Diseases  of  the  South." 
He  had  also  written  on  fevers,  pneumonia,  and  had 
discussed  a  variety  of  surgical  questions.  But  the  man 
that  I  feared  was  Ames.  Of  course,  I  was  on  the  most 
friendly  terms  with  all  the  doctors  in  Montgomery. 
Ames  was  a  man  that  everybody  respected,  but  whom 
nobody  loved  very  much.  On  the  contrary,  they  were 
all  rather  afraid  of  him.  He  had  the  best  practice  of 
the  country.  He  was  a  quiet,  dignified,  reticent,  skillful 
man,  who  filled  a  very  useful  and  prominent  place  in 
his  profession.  His  opinion  was  sought  on  all  questions, 
and  on  all  occasions  of  great  importance ;  and  no  man  in 
high  life  ever  died,  in  any  other  physician's  hands,  un- 
less Dr.  Ames  was  called  in  consultation. 

I  liked  and  admired  him,  and  I  also  feared  him.  He 
was  hypercritical,  especially  in  literary  matters.  I  was 
not  afraid  to  perform  any  operation  before  him,  because 
I  was  a  surgeon,  and  he  was  not.  He  took  a  kindly  in- 
terest in  me  and  patronized  me.  He  at  one  time  offered 
me  a  partnership,  but  I  was  too  smart  to  take  it.     I  saw 


214  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

that  lie  had  an  immense  practice,  but  as  I  had  as  much 
as  I  could  do,  and  the  work  was  growing,  I  had  only  to 
eliminate  the  least  desirable  part  of  my  practice  as  it  in- 
creased among  the  higher  walks  of  life.  Dr.  Ames  was 
enjoying  the  full  fruition  of  all  that  he  could  have 
achieved.  I  knew  that,  if  I  accepted  a  partnership,  I 
would  be  compelled  to  do  all  his  country  work,  which 
would  break  me  down.  As  I  was  doing  well  enough,  I 
wisely  concluded  to  let  well  enough  alone,  and  suggested 
as  a  suitable  partner  in  my  stead  another  young  man  in 
town  who  had  nothing  to  do,  and  whom  he  afterward 
accepted. 

Well,  when  the  "  Journal "  arrived  I  read  the  article, 
and  I  determined  that  Ames  should  not  see  it,  nor  Bald- 
win, nor  Bowling,  nor  anybody  else.  I  knew  that  there 
was  not  another  copy  of  the  work  taken  in  the  city.  I 
walked  into  my  library,  which,  by  the  way,  had  increased 
beyond  the  seven  volumes  of  Eberle,  and  stepped  up  to 
my  book-case,  and  on  a  shelf,  level  with  my  eye,  pulled 
out  a  large  volume,  and  put  the  "  Dental  Journal,"  be- 
hind it,  standing  it  up  on  its  edge,  behind  the  books  on 
the  shelf,  with  the  flat  surface  to  the  wall.  I  then  re- 
placed the  book  in  its  proper  position.  Some  months 
after  this,  Dr.  Ames  happened  to  walk  into  my  office ;  he 
had  called  to  make  me  a  social  visit,  as  we  frequently 
exchanged  neighborly  visits.  After  we  had  talked  over 
endemic  diseases  and  the  other  topics  of  the  day,  he 
walked  up  to  the  book-case,  with  the  inquiry,  "  Have  you 
got  in  any  new  books  lately  ? "     I  said  "  No."     I  stood 


DR.   AMES   DISCOVERS  MY   ARTICLE.  215 

there,  and  lie  looked  at  all  the  books  on  the  shelf,  and 
pulled  out,  with  his  left  hand,  the  very  identical  one 
behind  which  I  had  hidden  the  "Dental  Journal"  six 
months  before.  As  he  pulled  it  out,  his  quick  eye  saw 
something  in  a  new  cover  hidden  away.  While  he  held 
^the  book  with  his  left  hand,  he  reached  up  with  his  right 
and  pulled  out  the  offending  "  Journal,"  of  which  I  had 
been  so  choice,  and  which  I  had  resolved  that  no  one 
should  see.  If  anybody  had  told  him,  he  could  not 
have  gone  more  deliberately  to  the  place  and  found  it. 
To-day,  it  is  the  most  unexplainable  thing  that  ever  hap- 
pened to  me.  He  did  not  look  into  the  large  book,  but 
he  held  in  his  hand  the  fresh  "  Dental  Journal,"  and 
commenced  turning  over  the  leaves,  one  after  the  other. 
He  had  never  seen  the  "  Dental  Journal "  before,  and  it 
excited  his  curiosity,  so  that  he  became  very  much  in- 
terested in  it,  and  all  the  more  interested  because  it  was 
new. 

I  said  to  myself,  "  My  God !  if  he  goes  on  in  this  way, 
he  will  come  to  the  article  on  the  '  Lowndes  County 
Girl's  Hare-Lip,'  and  he  will  give  me  fits."  I  was  trem- 
bling like  a  leaf,  as  I  stood  there  like  a  schoolboy. 
Still  he  stood  there,  turning  over  leaf  after  leaf,  and, 
when  he  got  to  where  the  case  was  described,  he  did 
not  look  up  at  all,  or  say  a  word,  but  stood  there,  reading 
it  down  on  the  first  page,  and  then  on  the  other  page, 
deliberately  reading  it  through.  It  just  occupied  two 
pages.  My  heart  was  in  my  throat.  As  he  finished  the 
article  he  stood  perfectly  still,  and  I  also  stood  perfectly 


216  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

still,  trembling.  As  he  turned  around  I  thought,  "I 
shall  get  it  now." 

In  a  moment  he  said,  "  What  would  I  give  if  I  had 
the  faculty  of  expressing  myself  in  writing  like  that  ? " 

I  said :  "  My  dear  doctor,  you  have  lifted  a  great 
load  from  my  heart.  Here  I  have  been  bewildered  all 
this  time,  and  you  have  frightened  me  almost  to  death, 
and  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  have  never  read  a  thing  so  natural  in  my  life  as 
your  description  of  the  case,"  he  replied ;  "  I  could  not 
write  that  way  to  save  my  life.  What  I  do  write  is  la- 
bored ;  but  what  you  write  comes  natural,  it  seems.  Now 
let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice.  I  have  seen  you  per- 
form many  beautiful  operations,  and  many  difficult  ones, 
and,  as  long  as  you  have  this  power,  I  advise  you  to 
report  them  for  the  press.  Seeing  that  you  are  so  timid, 
and  lack  confidence  in  yourself,  if  you  will  send  your 
productions  to  me,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  make  such  sug- 
gestions as  are  necessary,  and  to  return  them  to  you  for 
your  consideration."  I  accepted  his  generous  proposition ; 
and,  but  for  the  encouragement  that  Dr.  Ames  gave  me, 
I  would  not  have  written  anything  at  all ;  for  I  was  not 
aware  that  I  possessed  any  capacity  in  that  direction. 

When  I  was  a  boy  at  school,  I  never  could  write 
compositions,  and  I  had  a  good  many  scoldings,  and  one 
or  two  thrashings  very  nearly,  because  of  that  neglect. 
Somehow  or  other  I  always  begged  off,  and  got  away 
from  composition  writing.  I  always  felt  quite  ashamed 
of  myself ;  for  the  other  boys  in  the  school  could  write 


DISLIKE  OF  COMPOSITIONS.  217 

compositions  on  any  given  subject,  while  I  could  not 
write  a  word.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  put  my  ideas 
on  paper  on  any  subject  assigned  to  me.  I  supposed  they 
were  always  mere  abstractions,  about  which  I  knew  little 
or  nothing.  I  had  an  instinctive  propensity  to  write  too 
long,  without  being  able  to  represent  any  lengthy  dis- 
quisitions on  the  subjects.  When  I  went  to  college 
every  man  was  expected  in  the  senior  year  to  write 
five  compositions.  Nothing  was  required  of -the  juniors 
in  this  line.  These  iive  compositions  had  to  be  pre- 
sented before  the  close  of  the  summer  term,  or  the  sum- 
mer vacation,  which  was  generally  about  the  first  of 
July.  I  passed  through  my  senior  year  without  hav- 
ing to  write  a  single  one.  When  I  returned  in  Octo- 
ber, to  begin  the  studies  preparatory  to  graduation  in 
December,  Professor  Henry,  who  had  supervision  of  the 
composition  department,  sent  for  me.  He  had  a  colored 
man  by  the  name  of  Jim,  whom  the  boys  in  the  college 
called  "  Sheriff  Jim."  He  was  the  man  of  the  faculty, 
and  carried  all  their  messages  and  notes.  One  day 
"  Sheriff  Jim  "  came  to  my  room  about  the  middle  of 
October.  He  said,  "  Professor  Henry  wants  to  see  you, 
and  he  is  waiting  in  his  study  now,  in  the  library." 

I  said :  "  What  does  Professor  Henry  want  of  me, 
Jim  ?     What  in  the  world  does  he  want  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sah,"  he  replied ;  "  he  sent  me   over 

to  tell  you   that  he   wanted  to   see   you   at  his  room, 

and  you  got  to  go."     So  there  was  nothing  left  but  for 

me  to  obey  the  command,  and  I  put  on  my  hat  and 
10 


218  THE  STORY   OF  MT  LIFE. 

went  along  with  "  Sheriff  Jim."  It  happened  that  there 
were  a  good  many  boys  standing  ont  on  the  campns,  and 
in  the  door- ways,  and  looking  ont  of  the  windows,  and 
when  they  saw  me  following  after  "  Sheriff  Jim  "  they 
wondered  what  under  the  heavens  I  eonld  have  been 
doing  to  make  it  necessary  to  call  me  before  the  f aeiL  - 
When  I  appeared  before  his  angnst  highness,  Professor 
Henry,  he  bluntly  remarked: 

*•  Mr.  Sims,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  college,  and 
according  to  its  requirements,  yon  are  expected  to  write 
five  compositions  for  your  senior  year,  between  the  first 
of  January  and  the  last  of  June.  In  looking  over  the 
list,  I  find  that  you  hare  not  written  one.  How  i>  ;: 
that  yon  have  not  complied  with  the  rules  of  the  col- 
lege ? " 

I  said  :  "  Sir,  I  have  never  felt  able  to  write  a  com- 
position which  would  be  creditable,  and  I  did  not  think 
it  was  worth  while  to  send  one  to  you  that  was  not  of 
some  value." 

He  said,  "  Yonr  record  has  been  excellent  except  in 
this  particular.  There  are  due  from  you  to  the  college 
five  compositions,  and,  as  yon  are  on  the  eve  of  gradua- 
tion, you  must  give  a  good  deal  of  yonr  time  to  the 
preparation  for  it.  I  will  be  Yery  lenient  toward  yon, 
Mr.  Sims,  and,  if  you  will  send  me  two  compositions  this 
week,  I  will  consider  that  you  have  complied  with  the 
rules  of  the  college.  Yon  can  go,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  nnless 
you  comply  with  this  requirement,  yon  can  not  go  for- 
ward in  yonr  graduation." 


COMPOSITIONS  AT  COLLEGE.  219 

I  bowed  myself  out,  and  went,  without  the  "  Sher- 
iffs "  accompanying  me  there,  to  my  own  room,  and  I 
had  resolved  in  my  own  mind  that  I  would  write  no 
compositions.  As  I  walked  through  the  campus,  back 
to  my  own  room,  a  little  humiliated  by  being  "  trained  " 
before  the  faculty,  as  it  were,  the  boys  were  all  on  the 
lookout  for  me,  and  they  said :  "  What  in  the  world 
have  you  done  to  be  taken  before  the  faculty  to  be 
trained  for  ?  and  what  have  you  had  to  be  taken  oft*  by 
the  <  Sheriff  'for?" 

"  I  haven't  complied  with  the  rules  of  the  college  in 
composition  writing,"  I  replied. 

John  Rice  was  from  Union  district,  and  my  junior  by 
nearly  two  years.  We  were  very  good  friends.  He  was 
very  much  devoted  to  me,  and  he  said,  "  Well,  Marion, 
you  know  that  you  have  got  to  write  the  compositions." 

I  said,  "  John,  I  am  not  going  to  write  a  composition. 
I  can  not  and  will  not,  and  I  will  see  the  college  and  Pro- 
fessor Henry  in  purgatory  before  I  write  one." 

He  said,  "  But,  Marion,  you  are  unreasonable.  Pro- 
fessor Henry  is  obliged  to  insist  on  your  compliance,  and 
he  has  asked  you  to  do  so  on  certain  conditions.  He 
has  let  you  off  very  mildly  indeed." 

I  replied,  "  John,  you  are  very  kind,  bnt  I  can  not 
write  one,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  try  to  do  it." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  you  do  not,  you  will  not  gradu- 
ate. He  is  obliged  to  be  as  good  as  his  word,  and  he 
will  not  allow  you  to  come  forward  to  receive  your  de- 
gree.    It  would  be  disgraceful  for  you  to  go  home  with- 


■_-2\  ihz  -:  ::.t  :r  lt  i:rz 

out  tout  diploma.  What  would  your  father  and  the 
world  say  about  it 

I  replied,  u  John,  I  don't  care  a  cent  what  anybody 
says.  I  do  not  intend  to  write  a  composition.  If  I  can 
not  pass  on  my  merits  as  a  scholar,  I  don't  think  that  I 
could  do  it  by  having  written  a  few  compositions.  I  have 
said  that  I  will  not  do  it,  and  I  will  not," 

John  Kiee  felt  very  unhappy  about  the  matter,  as  he 
was  exceedingly  interested  in  me.  The  next  morning  he 
came  down  and  happening  to  see  a  Sheriff  Jim "  going 
along  the  campus  he  beckoned  to  him  to  follow  him. 
On  reaching  my  room  he  said :  "  See  here,  Marion,  don't 
be  a  d — d  fool  any  longer.  A=  I  do  not  want  to  see  yon 
miss  your  graduation,  I  have  just  written  two  composi- 

ns  for  you  on  l  Memory/  and  I  have  signed  your  name 

both  of  them.  Of  course  Professor  Henry  will  never 
read  them,  and  I  am  going  to  send  them  to  him,  so  that 
yon  have  complied  with  the  spirit  of  the  law.  Ton 
haven't  written  five,  but  you  have  got  two."  The  u  Sher- 
iff "  was  called  in,  and  John  Sice  said:  u  Here,  Jim,  wfll 
yon  have  the  kindness  to  take  these  papers  over  to  Pro- 
fessor Henry,  with  the  compliments  of  Marion  Sims,  and 
say  to  him  that  they  are  his  compositions  which  he  prom- 

i  to  write  last  night.9'  Jim  took  the  papers,  and  that 
was  the  last  that  I  ever  heard  about  the  five  compositions. 
Of  course  Professor  Henry  never  read  them,  or  criticised 
them,  and  he  didn't  care  a  cent  whether  I  ever  wrote 
them  or  not,  but  was  obliged  to  enforce  the  rules  of 
the  college  in  that  respect. 


DR.  AMES  CRITICISES  MY  ARTICLE.  221 

So  it  was  that  I  always  felt  timid  about  writing,  and 
never  dreamed  that  I  could  write  until  the  circumstance 
related,  in  connection  with  my  friend  Dr.  Ames.  Even 
to  this  day  the  finding  of  that  "Dental  Journal"  is  in- 
explicable to  me.  I  do  not  believe  there  are  any  acci- 
dents in  this  world.  I  do  not  look  upon  that  as  an 
accident,  but  as  a  Providential  affair.  However,  I  acted 
on  the  suggestion  of  my  friend  Dr.  Ames,  and  imme- 
diately began  to  write  out  the  histories  of  my  surgical 
cases,  which  he  suggested  to  me  that  I  should  do.  I  sent 
them  to  him  for  criticism,  and  in  a  day  or  two  he  would 
return  them  to  me.  I  was  very  much  surprised  that  he 
found  so  little  to  criticise,  and  what  few  suggestions  and 
criticisms  and  alterations  he  had  to  make.  He  made  no 
alterations  that  were  of  any  great  importance.  I  con- 
tinued to  write  articles  and  send  them  to  him,  and  he 
was  very  kind  always  in  looking  over  them,  and  making 
corrections  when  they  were  necessary.  He  always  wrote 
me  a  little  note,  very  kindly  worded,  for  me  to  preserve, 
and  saying  that  it  was  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  send 
my  papers  to  him  for  him  to  read.  This  was,  as  I  have 
already  said,  in  the  year  1845,  and  it  was  also  an  event- 
ful year  to  me  in  my  professional  career. 


CHAPTEK  XIV. 

An  interesting  case  of  trismus  nascentiuin — Hy  discovery  of  the  cause  of 
the  disease — Case  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula — An  accidental  discovery 
— A  series  of  experimental  operations — Disappointments  and  final 
success. 

In  April  (1845)  Mr.  Henry  Stickney,  having  a  plan- 
tation near  Montgomery  and  a  residence  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  town,  called  at  my  house  about  tea-time,  as  he  fre- 
quently did,  to  make  a  social  visit,  and  took  occasion  to 
say  that  his  negro  woman,  Sally,  had  recently  been  con- 
fined with  twins,  and  that  one  of  them  was  very  ill.  He 
said  that  it  had  spasms,  and  could  not  suck,  and  he 
said  that  he  would  like  to  have  me  go  out  and  see  the 
babe.  After  asking  him  a  few  questions,  as  we  talked 
the  matter  over,  I  made  up  my  mind  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, and  I  said :  "  Mr.  Stickney,  the  baby  has  what  we 
call  trismus  nascentium,  or  lock-jaw,  and  it  is  always 
fatal,  no  case  as  yet  ever  having  been  cured.  I  can  do 
the  child  no  good ;  but,  as  a  study,  I  will  come  out  to 
see  it  and  investigate  the  case.  But  I  can  do  nothing 
for  it  at  all." 

So  I  went  to  the  house,  as  I  agreed,  and  found  the 
child  lying  in  a  cradle,  on  its  back.     It  had  been  in 


CASE  OF  TRISMUS  NASOENTIUM.  223 

spasms  for  two  days  and  nights,  and  looked  as  if  it  were 
dying.  Its  respiration  was  very  rapid,  and  the  pulse 
could  hardly  be  counted.  Touching  it  would  throw  it 
into  convulsions ;  laying  it  on  its  face  it  would  cause 
spasms;  any  noise  would  produce  them.  It  could  not 
swallow,  could  take  no  nourishment,  and  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  it  to  suck.  It  was  covered  with  a  cold,  clammy 
perspiration  ;  its  hands  were  tightly  clinched,  so  that  the 
finger-nails  were  almost  cutting  into  the -flesh  on  the 
palms  of  its  hands.  The  legs  and  arms  were  as  stiff  as  a 
poker,  and  the  whole  body  was  rigid,  because  of  tonic  con- 
traction, and  every  few  minutes  there  would  be  spasms 
independent  of  the  tonic  contraction.  Its  face  was  drawn 
around  so  that  it  wore  a  sort  of  sardonic  grin.  Alto- 
gether, the  picture  was  a  disagreeable  one  to  look  upon. 
After  examining  the  child  for  a  while,  I  ran  my  hand 
under  its  head  to  raise  it  up  from  the  deep  cradle  in 
which  it  lay.  I  raised  the  child,  and  found  it  as  stiff  as 
could  be,  and,  instead  of  bending,  it  came  up  like  raising 
a  pair  of  tongs,  in  its  rigid  condition.  While  in  the  act 
of  raising  it,  my  hand  detected  a  remarkable  irregularity 
in  the  relations  of  the  bones  of  the  head.  I  sat  the  child 
against  my  knee,  because  it  was  so  stiff  that  it  could  not 
sit  on  it,  and  began  to  examine  its  head.  At  the  back 
of  the  head  I  found  that  the  occipital  bone  was  pushed 
under  deeply  on  the  brain,  and  the  edges  of  it,  along 
the  lambdoidal  suture,  were  completely  overlapped  by 
the  projecting  edges  of  the  parietal  bones.  This  was 
certainly  the  most  unnatural  thing  that  I  had  seen,  and 


2M  THE   STOBY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  immediately  suspected  that  the  spasms,  both  tonie 
and  clonic,  were  the  result  of  mechanical  pressure  on 
the  base  of  the  brain,  effected  by  the  dislocation  of 
this  bone  by  the  child  lying  on  its  back.  It  took  some 
minutes  for  me  to  make  this  examination.  After  I 
became  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  physical  condition 
observed,  I  turned  my  attention  again  to  the  child,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  that  by  the  erect  posture  removing 
the  pressure  from  the  base  of  the  brain  the  pulse  could 
be  counted,  and  that  the  respiration  had  fallen  from  one 
hundred  and  twenty  to  about  seventy. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  child  died.  The  next  day 
we  held  a  post-mortem  examination.  The  case  was  one 
of  so  much  importance  that  I  invited  Drs.  Ames,  Bald- 
win, Bowling,  and  half  a  dozen  other  medical  men  to  be 
present  at  the  post-mortem.  I  was  convinced  that  the 
meehanical  pressure  on  the  base  of  the  brain  had  pro- 
duced all  the  symptoms  I  had  seen ;  but  what  I  wanted 
to  find  was  this :  what  was  the  rationale  of  that  pressure  ? 
In  making  a  post-mortem  examination,  we  found  that 
the  spinal  marrow  was  surrounded  by  a  coagulum  of 
blood — extravasation  of  blood  between  the  spinal  mar- 
row and  its  membranes.  I  thought  that  this  was  the 
cause  of  all  the  symptoms,  and  I  published  an  article 
on  the  subject,  in  which  I  elaborated  a  very  ingenious 
theory  going  to  show  that  the  compression  at  the  base  of 
the  brain  had  strangulated  the  spinal  veins  in  such  a  way 
that  the  blood  could  not  be  returned  from  the  spinal 
column,  and  had  therefore  burst  through  its  thin  ve& 


CURE  FOR  TRISMUS  NASCENTIUM.  225 

sels.  Subsequent  experience,  however,  compelled  me  to 
modify  this  view  of  the  case,  and  I  wrote  a  second  arti- 
cle on  the  subject,  showing  that  this  extravasation  was 
not  the  cause  of  the  disease,  but  was  the  result,  and  that 
the  child  might  not  have  died  of  trismus  nascentium  had 
it  been  laid  on  its  side,  where  the  pressure  could  be 
removed  from  the  base  of  the  brain.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  the  treatment  of  a  case  of  trismus  nascentium  is 
not  by  medicine,  but  when  it  is  produced  by  mechanical 
causes  of  this  sort  it  is  simply  by  a  lateral  position  that 
takes  the  pressure  from  the  base  of  the  brain.  Such 
cases  should  be  placed  first  upon  one  side  and  then  upon 
the  other,  and  should  never  be  put  in  a  cradle  or  crib  at 
all.  A  new-born  child  especially  should  be  placed  upon 
a  pillow,  lengthwise  of  the  pillow.  If  this  were  done 
always,  there  would  be  no  cases  of  trismus  nascentium. 
I  have  seen  a  great  many  desperate  cases  cured  in  a  few 
minutes'  time,  simply  by  placing  the  patient  on  the  side. 
But,  as  I  have  written  this  subject  up,  in  part,  in  another 
treatise,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  dilate  upon  it  further 
here.  My  doctrines  in  respect  to  the  pathology  and 
treatment  of  trismus  nascentium  have  not  been  adopted 
or  accepted  by  the  profession  at  large ;  but  I  am  satisfied 
that  they  are  true.  They  have  been  adopted  by  a  few 
doctors,  here  and  there,  and  many  cases  of  trismus  nas- 
centium have  been  cured,  which  were  reported  in  the 
medical  journals  of  the  country.  Dr. ,  of  Ander- 
son, South  Carolina,  reported  in  the  "  American  Journal 
of  Medical  Science  "  for  April,  1875,  a  dozen  cases  that 


226  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

lie  had  cured  ;  whereas,  before  my  discovery,  medical  lit- 
erature had  not  reported  a  single  case  of  trismus  nascen- 
tium  having  been  cured  on  any  recognized  principle  ap- 
plicable to  any  other  case.  Truth  travels  slowly,  but  I 
am  sure  that  I  am  right — as  sure  as  I  can  be  of  anything. 
This  will  yet  be  fully  understood  and  appreciated  by  the 
profession. 

I  consider  this  my  first  great  discovery  in  medicine. 
The  next  occurred  only  two  months  later.  I  had  been  a 
doctor  now  about  ten  years.  I  had  established  a  good, 
solid  reputation  as  a  surgeon,  and  surgical  cases  were 
coming  to  me  every  day  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 
I  was  also  considered  a  successful  family  practitioner.  I 
was  perfectly  satisfied  with  my  position  and  prospects. 
I  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  midwifery,  excepting 
when  called  in  consultation  with  Dr.  McWhorter  or  Dr. 
Henry,  or  some  of  the  older  doctors,  who  wished  me  to 
perform  some  delicate  surgical  operation.  I  never  pre- 
tended to  treat  any  of  the  diseases  of  women,  and  if  any 
woman  came  to  consult  me  on  account  of  any  functional 
derangement  of  the  uterine  system,  I  immediately  re- 
plied, "  This  is  out  of  my  line ;  I  do  not  know  anything 
about  it  practically,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  to  Dr.  Henry 
or  Dr.  McWhorter." 

Early  in  the  month  of  June  (1845)  Dr.  Henry  asked 
me  to  go  out  to  Mr.  Wescott's,  only  a  mile  from  the 
town,  to  a  case  of  labor  which  had  lasted  three  days  and 
the  child  not  yet  born.  He  said,  "  I  am  thinking  that 
you  had  better  take  your  instruments  along  with  you,  for 


A  CASE  OF  VESICO- VAGINAL  FISTULA.        227 

you  may  want  to  use  them."  We  found  a  young  colored 
woman,  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  well  developed, 
who  had  been  in  labor  then  seventy-two  hours.  The 
child's  head  was  so  impacted  in  the  pelvis  that  the  labor- 
pains  had  almost  entirely  ceased.  It  was  evident  that 
matters  could  not  long  remain  in  this  condition  without 
the  system  becoming  exhausted,  and  without  the  pressure 
producing  a  sloughing  of  the  soft  parts  of  the  mother. 
So  I  agreed  with  Dr.  Henry  that  the  sooner  she  was  de- 
livered the  better,  and  without  any  great  effort  the  child 
was  brought  away  with  forceps.  She  rallied  from  the 
confinement  and  seemed  to  be  getting  on  pretty  well, 
until  about  five  days  after  her  delivery,  when  Dr.  Henry 
came  to  see  me,  and  said  that  there  was  an  extensive 
sloughing  of  the  soft  parts,  the  mother  having  lost  con- 
trol of  both  the  bladder  and  the  rectum.  Of  course,  aside 
from  death,  this  was  about  the  worst  accident  that  could 
have  happened  to  the  poor  young  girl.  I  went  to  see 
her,  and  found  an  enormous  slough,  spreading  from  the 
posterior  wall  of  the  vagina,  and  another  thrown  off 
from  the  anterior  wall.  The  case  was  hopelessly  incur- 
able. 

I  went  home  and  investigated  the  literature  of  the 
subject  thoroughly  and  fully.  Then,  seeing  the  master 
of  the  servant  the  next  day,  I  said:  "Mr.  Wescott, 
Anarcha  has  an  affection  that  unfits  her  for  the  duties 
required  of  a  servant.  She  will  not  die,  but  will  never 
get  well,  and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  take  good  care  of 
her  so  long  as  she  lives."   Mr.  Wescott  was  a  kind-hearted 


228  THE   5T0ET   OY  MY  LIFE. 

man.  a  good  roaster,  and.  accepting  the  situation,  made 
np  his  mind  that  Anarcha  should  have  an  easy  time  in 
this  world  as  long  as  she  lived. 

I  had  practiced  medicine  ten  years,  and  had  never 
before  seen  a  case  of  vesico- vaginal  fistula.  I  looked 
upon  it  as  a  surgical  curiosity,  although  a  very  unfor- 
tunate one.  Strange  to  sav,  in  one  month  from  that  time 
Dr.  Harris,  from  Lowndes  County,  came  to  see  me,  and 
he  said:  u  Well,  doctor,  one  of  my  servant  girls,  Be" 
a  young  woman  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  old,  married 
last  year,  had  a  baby  about  a  month  ago.  Since  then  she 
has  not  been  able  to  hold  a  single  drop  of  water." 

I  replied,  *•  I  am  very  sorry,  doctor,  but  nothing  can 
be  done  for  her.     There  is  a  similar  case  here  in  town.*' 

He  said,  *•  I  thought  mvself  it  was  incurable.  But  I 
am  going  to  tell  my  overseer  to  send  her  up  to  you  to- 
morrow and  let  you  examine  her  case."  So  the  next  day 
Betsey  came,  and  I  examined  her.  The  base  of  the  blad- 
der was  destroyed,  and  her  case  was  certainly  a  very  mis- 
erable one.  I  kept  her  a  day  or  two  in  Montgomery  and 
then  sent  her  home,  writing  a  note  to  the  doctor,  giving 
him  my  opinion  of  the  case  and  its  incurability.  I  sup- 
|  :  Bed  that  I  shoidd  never  see  another  case  of  vesicovagi- 
nal fistula. 

About  another  month  after  this,  however,  Mr.  Tom 
Zimmerman,  of  Macon  County,  called  on  me.  I  was  his 
family  physician  when  I  lived  in  Cubahatchee.  but  I  had 
not  seen  him  since  I  left  there,  four  or  five  years  be- 
fore.    He  besran  immediatelv  bv  saving  that  his  neprro 


ANOTHER  CASE.  229 

girl,  Lucy,  about  eighteen  years  old,  had  given  birth  to  a 
child  two  months  ago,  and  that  since  that  time  she  had 
been  unable  to  hold  any  water. 

I  said,  "  Tom,  I  know  all  about  this  case,  and  there  is 
no  doctor  in  this  town  or  country  who  can  afford  any 
relief.  I  have  just  been  reading  up  the  subject ;  I  have 
consulted  all  the  authorities  I  can  find  in  every  doctor's 
library  in  this  city.  She  has  fistula  in  the  bladder — a 
hole  in  it.  It  may  be  no  larger  than  a  pipe-stem,  or  it 
may  be  as  large  as  two  or  three  inches  in  diameter ;  but, 
whether  big  or  little,  the  urine  runs  all  the  time;  it 
makes  no  odds  what  position  she  is  in,  whether  asleep  or 
awake,  walking  or  standing,  sitting  or  lying  down.  The 
case  is  absolutely  incurable.  I  don't  want  to  see  her  or 
the  case.  You  need  not  send  her  to  town.  I  have  just 
seen  two  cases,  one  in  this  town,  and  another  that  was 
sent  to  me  from  Lowndes  County,  and  I  have  sent  the 
last  one  back  because  there  is  no  hope  for  it." 

"  Is  there  no  chance  for  your  being  mistaken  about 
the  case,  without  having  seen  it  ? " 

I  said,  "No,  there  is  no  chance  for  me  to  be  mis- 
taken.    It  is  absolutely  incurable." 

"Are  you  not  disposed  to  investigate  it,"  he  said, 
"  and  see  if  there  is  not  some  chance  % " 

I  said,  "  No,  I  don't  want  to  see  it," 

"But  you  would  have  done  so  before  you  moved 
from  the  piney  woods  and  came  to  the  city.  Moving 
to  a  city  sets  a  man  up  wonderfully.  You  are  putting 
on  airs.     When  you  were  my  family  doctor,  and  used  to 


230  THE   STOET   OF  MY  LIFE. 

see  in j  family  or  my  niggers,  you  never  objected  to  an 
investigation  of  their  cases,  and  you  didn't  say  what  you 
would  do  and  what  not.  I  am  going  to  send  Lucy  in, 
"What  day  do  you  want  her  to  come  down  \  n 

I  said,  ;*  I  don't  want  to  see  her.  I  can  do  her  no 
good." 

"  "Well;'''  said  he,  a  I  am  going  to  send  her  down  to 
you  at  your  office,  by  [Monday's  train,  whether  yon  want 
to  see  her  or  not.''  And  so,  sure  enough,  Monday  came, 
and  Lucy  was  at  my  office.  I  had  a  little  hospital  of 
eight  beds,  built  in  the  corner  of  my  yard,  for  taking 
care  of  my  negro  patients  and  for  negro  surgical  cases ; 
and  so  when  Lucy  came  I  gave  her  a  bed.  .  As  soon  as  I 
could  get  to  her  I  examined  the  case  very  minutely.  I 
told  her  that  I  was  unable  to  do  anything  for  her,  and  I 
Bald,  "  To-morrow  afternoon  I  shall  have  to  send  you 
home.''  She  was  very  much  disappointed,  for  her  con- 
dition was  loathsome,  and  she  was  in  hopes  that  she 
could  be  cured.  I  told  her  that  she  must  go  home  on 
the  next  afternoon. 

It  was  my  usual  habit  to  start  off  at  nine  o'clock  to 
visit  my  patients,  and  I  seldom  had  less  than  from  eight- 
een to  twentv  visits  to  make  in  a  morning.  Just  as  I 
was  starting  off,  and  was  about  to  get  into  my  buggy,  a 
little  nigger  came  running  to  the  office  and  said,  a  Massa 
doctor.  Mrs.  Merrill  done  been  throwed  from  her  pony, 
and  is  mighty  badly  hurt,  and  you  must  go  down  there 
right  off  to  see  her.  just  as  soon  as  you  can  get  there." 
So,  as  this  was  a  surgical  case,  and  not  knowing  whether 


A  RETROVERSION  OF  THE   UTERUS.  231 

it  was  a  fractured  limb  or  a  broken  skull,  I  looked  upon 
it  as  a  case  of  urgency,  and  instead  of  making  my  usual 
morning  round,  I  started  upon  "  the  hill,"  three  fourths 
of  a  mile,  to  see  old  Mrs.  Merrill.  She  was  not  an  old 
woman,  but  she  was  the  wife  of  a  dissipated  old  man, 
who  was  supposed  to  be  of  not  much  account,  as  he  was 
gambling  and  leading  an  otherwise  disreputable  life. 
Mre.  Merrill,  however,  was  a  respectable  woman  who  ob- 
tained a  living  by  washing  and  taking  in  sewing,  and 
was  much  appreciated  and  respected  among  her  neigh- 
bors. She  was  about  forty-six  years  of  age,  stout  and  fat, 
and  weighed  nearly  two  hundred  pounds.  She  had  been 
riding  along  on  a  pony,  and  when  within  about  fifty 
yards  of  her  own  house  a  hog  lying  by  the  roadside,  in 
the  corner  of  the  fence,  jumped  out  and  made  a  noise 
that  frightened  the  pony,  and  it  sprang  from  under  the 
rider.  She  fell  with  all  her  weight  on  the  pelvis.  She 
had  no  broken  bones.  She  was  in  bed,  complaining  of 
great  pain  in  her  back,  and  a  sense  of  tenesmus  in  both 
the  bladder  and  rectum,  the  bearing  down  making  her 
condition  miserable. 

If  there  was  anything  I  hated,  it  was  investigating 
the  organs  of  the  female  pelvis.  But  this  poor  woman 
was  in  such  a  condition  that  I  was  obliged  to  find  out 
what  was  the  matter  with  her.  It  was  by  a  digital  ex- 
amination, and  I  had  sense  enough  to  discover  that  there 
was  retroversion  of  the  uterus.  It  was  half  turned  up- 
side down,  and  I  took  it  for  granted  that  this  sudden 
dislocation,  or  disturbance  of  the  pelvic  organs,  was  the 


232  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

result  of  the  fall  on  the  pelvis.  The  question  was,  what 
I  should  do  to  relieve  her.  I  remembered,  when  a 
medical  student  in  Charleston  Medical  College,  that 
old  Dr.  Prioleau  used  to  saj :  "  Gentlemen,  if  any  of 
you  are  ever  called  to  a  case  of  sudden  version  of 
the  uterus  backward,  you  must  place  the  patient  on 
the  knees  and  elbows — in  a  genu -pectoral  position — 
and  then  introduce  one  finger  into  the  rectum  and 
another  into  the  vagina,  and  push  up,  and  pull  down; 
and,  if  you  don't  get  the  uterus  in  position  by  this 
means,  you  will  hardly  effect  it  by  any  other."  This 
piece  of  information  at  the  time  it  was  given  went  into 
one  ear  and  out  at  the  other.  I  never  expected  to  have 
any  use  for  it.  Strangely  enough,  all  that  Professor 
Prioleau  said  came  back  to  me  at  once  when  the  case 
was  presented.  So  I  placed  the  patient  as  directed,  with 
a  large  sheet  thrown  over  her.  I  could  not  make  up  my 
mind  to  introduce  my  finger  into  the  rectum,  because 
only  a  few  days  before  that  I  had  had  occasion  to  ex- 
amine the  rectum  of  a  nervous  gentleman  who  had  a 
fissure,  and  he  made  so  much  complaint  of  the  examina- 
tion that  I  thought  that  this  poor  woman  was  suffering 
enough  without  my  doing  so  disagreeable  a  thing.  So,  as 
she  raised  herself  and  rested  on  her  knees,  just  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  and  by  putting  one  finger  into  the  va- 
gina I  could  easily  touch  the  uterus  by  my  pushing,  but 
I  could  not  place  it  in  position,  for  my  finger  was  too 
short ;  if  it  had  been  half  an  inch  longer,  I  could  have 
put  the  womb  into  place.     So  I  introduced  the  middle 


A  SUCCESSFUL  EXPERIMENT.  233 

and  index  fingers,  and  immediately  touched  the  uterus. 
I  commenced  making  strong  efforts  to  push  it  back,  and 
thus  I  turned  my  hand  with  the  palm  upward,  and  then 
downward,  and  pushing  with  all  my  might,  when  all  at 
once,  I  could  not  feel  the  womb,  or  the  walls  of  the  va- 
gina. I  could  touch  nothing  at  all,  and  wondered  what 
it  all  meant.  It  was  as  if  I  had  put  my  two  fingers  into 
a  hat,  and  worked  them  around,  without  touching  the 
substance  of  it.  While  I  was  wondering  what  it  all 
meant  Mrs.  Merrill  said,  "  Why,  doctor,  I  am  relieved." 
My  mission  was  ended,  but  what  had  brought  the  relief  I 
could  not  understand.  I  removed  my  hand,  and  said  to 
her,  "You  may  lie  down  now."  She  was  in  a  profuse 
perspiration  from  pain  and  the  unnatural  position,  and 
in  part  from  the  effort.  She  rather  fell  on  her  6ide. 
Suddenly  there  was  an  explosion,  just  as  though  there 
had  been  an  escape  of  air  from  the  bowel.  She  was  ex- 
ceedingly mortified  and  began  to  apologize,  and  said,  "  I 
am  so  ashamed."  I  said  :  "  That  is  not  from  the  bowel, 
but  from  the  vagina,  and  it  has  explained  now  what  I 
did  not  understand  before.  I  understand  now  what  has 
relieved  you,  but  I  would  not  have  understood  it  but  for 
that  escapement  of  air  from  the  vagina.  When  I  placed 
my  fingers  there,  the  mouth  of  the  vagina  was  so  dilated 
that  the  air  rushed  in  and  extended  the  vagina  to  its  full- 
est capacity,  by  the  natural  pressure  of  fifty-five  pounds 
to  the  square  inch,  and  this,  conjoined  with  the  position, 
was  the  means  of  restoring  the  retroverted  organ  to  its 
normal  place." 


234  THE   SIORY   OF  ATT  LEFE. 

Then,  said  I  to  myself,  if  I  can  place  the  patient  in 
that  position,  and  distend  the  vagina  by  the  pressnre  of 
air,  so  as  to  produce  snch  a  wonderful  result  as  this,  why 
can  I  not  take  the  incurable  case  of  vesicovaginal  fistula, 
which  seems  now  to  be  so  incomprehensible,  and  put  the 
girl  in  this  position  and  see  exactly  what  are  the  relations 
of  the  surrounding  tissues  I  Fired  with  this  idea,  I  for- 
got that  I  had  twenty  patients  waiting  to  see  me  all  over 
the  hills  of  this  beautiful  city.  I  jumped  into  my  buggy 
and  drove  hurriedly  home.  Passing  by  the  store  of  Hall, 
Mores  u:  Roberts,  I  stopped  and  bought  a  pewter  spoon. 
I  went  to  my  office  where  I  had  two  medical  students, 
and  said,  "  Come,  boys,  go  to  the  hospital  with  me."' 

"  You  have  got  through  your  work  early  this  morn- 
ing,"' they  said. 

a  I  have  done  none  of  it,"  I  replied  ;  "  come  to  the 
hospital  with  me."  Arriving  there,  I  said,  "Betsey, 
I  told  you  that  I  would  send  you  home  this  afternoon, 
but  before  you  go  I  want  to  make  one  more  examina- 
tion of  your  case.''  She  willingly  consented.  I  got  a 
table  about  three  feet  long,  and  put  a  coverlet  upon  it, 
and  mounted  her  on  the  table,  on  her  knees,  with  her 
head  resting  on  the  palms  of  her  hands.  I  placed  the 
two  students  one  on  each  side  of  the  pelvis,  and  they 
laid  hold  of  the  nates,  and  pulled  them  open.  Before  I 
could  get  the  bent  spoon-handle  into  the  vagina,  the  air 
rushed  in  with  a  puffing  noise,  dilating  the  vagina  to  its 
fullest  extent.  Introducing  the  bent  handle  of  the  spoon 
I  saw  everything,  as  no  man  had  ever  seen  before.     The 


A  FORTUNATE  DISCOVERY.  235 

fistula  was  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  a  man's  face.  The 
edges  were  clear  and  well-defined,  and  distinct,  and  the 
opening  could  be  measured  as  accurately  as  if  it  had 
been  cut  out  of  a  piece  of  plain  paper.  The  walls  of 
the  vagina  could  be  seen  closing  in  every  direction ;  the 
^neck  of  the  uterus  was  distinct  and  well-defined,  and 
even  the  secretions  from  the  neck  could  be  seen  as  a 
tear  glistening  in  the  eye,  clear  even  and  distinct,  and 
as  plain  as  could  be.  I  said  at  once,  "Why  can  not 
these  things  be  cured?  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is 
nothing  to  do  but  to  pare  the  edges  of  the  fistula  and 
bring  it  together  nicely,  introduce  a  catheter  in  the  neck 
of  the  bladder  and  drain  the  urine  oh*  continually,  and 
the  case  will  be  cured."  Fired  with  enthusiasm  by  this 
wonderful  discovery,  it  raised  me  into  a  plane  of  thought 
that  unfitted  me  almost  for  the  duties  of  the  day.  Still, 
with  gladdened  heart,  and  buoyant  spirits,  and  rejoicing 
in  my  soul,  I  went  off  to  make  my  daily  rounds.  I  felt 
sure  that  I  was  on  the  eve  of  one  of  the  greatest  discov- 
eries of  the  day.  The  more  I  thonght  of  it,  the  more  I 
was  convinced  of  it. 

I  immediately  went  to  work  to  invent  instruments 
necessary  for  performing  the  operation  on  the  principles 
that  were  self-evident  on  the  first  inspection  of  the  first 
case.  The  speculum,  or  retractor,  was  perfectly  clear 
from  the  very  beginning.  I  did  not  send  Lucy  home, 
and  I  wrote  to  her  master  that  I  would  retain  her  there, 
and  he  must  come  and  see  me  again.  I  saw  Mr.  "Wescott, 
and  I  told  him  that  I  was  on  the  eve  of  a  great  discovery, 


236  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

and  that  I  would  like  to  have  him  send  Anarcha  back  to 
my  hospital.  I  also  wrote  to  Dr.  Harris,  saying  that  I 
had  changed  my  mind  in  regard  to  Betsey,  and  for  him 
to  send  her  back  again.  I  ransacked  the  country  for 
cases,  told  the  doctors  what  had  happened  and  what  I 
had  done,  and  it  ended  in  my  finding  six  or  seven  cases 
of  vesico-vaginal  fistula  that  had  been  hidden  away  for 
years  in  the  country  because  they  had  been  pronounced 
incurable.  I  went  to  work  to  put  another  story  on  my 
hospital,  and  this  gave  me  sixteen  beds ;  four  beds  for 
servants,  and  twelve  for  the  patients.  Then  I  made  this 
proposition  to  the  owners  of  the  negroes :  If  you  will 
give  me  Anarcha  and  Betsey  for  experiment,  I  agree  to 
perforin  no  experiment  or  operation  on  either  of  them 
to  endanger  their  lives,  and  will  not  charge  a  cent  for 
keeping  them,  but  you  must  pay  their  taxes  and  clothe 
them.  I  will  keep  them  at  my  own  expense.  Remem- 
ber, I  was  very  enthusiastic,  and  expected  to  cure  them, 
every  one,  in  six  months.  I  never  dreamed  of  failure, 
and  could  see  how  accurately  and  how  nicely  the  opera- 
tion could  be  performed. 

It  took  me  about  three  months  to  have  my  instru- 
ments made,  to  gather  the  patients  in,  and  to  have 
everything  ready  to  commence  the  season  of  philosophi- 
cal experiment.  The  first  patient  I  operated  on  was 
Lucy.  She  was  the  last  one  I  had,  and  the  case  was  a 
very  bad  one.  The  whole  base  of  the  bladder  was  gone 
and  destroyed,  and  a  piece  had  fallen  out,  leaving  an 
opening  between  the  vagina  and  the  bladder,  at  least  two 


THE  FIRST   OPERATION.  237 

inches  in  diameter  or  more.  That  was  before  the  days  of 
anaesthetics,  and  the  poor  girl,  on  her  knees,  bore  the 
operation  with  great  heroism  and  bravery.  I  had  about 
a  dozen  doctors  there  to  witness  the  series  of  experi- 
ments that  I  expected  to  perform.  All  the  doctors  had 
^een  my  notes  often  and  examined  them,  and  agreed  that 
I  was  on  the  eve  of  a  great  discovery,  and  every  one 
of  them  was  interested  in  seeing  me  operate.  The  oper- 
ations were  tedious  and  difficult.  The  instruments  were 
on  the  right  principle,  though  they  were  not  as  per- 
fect as  they  were  subsequently,  and  improvements  had 
to  be  made  slowly.  I  succeeded  in  closing  the  fistula 
in  about  an  hour's  time,  which  was  considered  to  be  very 
good  work.  I  placed  my  patient  in  bed,  and  it  does 
seem  to  me  now,  since  things  were  so  simple  and  clear, 
that  I  was  exceedingly  stupid  at  the  beginning. 

But  I  must  have  something  to  turn  the  urine  from 
the  bladder,  and  I  thought  that  if  I  could  make  a  ca- 
theter stay  in  the  bladder  I  could  succeed.  But  I  knew 
that  the  books  said  that  the  doctors  had  tried  to  do  it  for 
ages  past  and  had  never  succeeded.  The  great  Wtirtzer, 
of  Germany,  attempted  to  cure  fistula,  many  years  ago, 
and,  failing  to  retain  the  catheter  in  the  bladder,  he 
adopted  the  plan  of  fastening  the  patient  face  downward, 
for  a  week  at  a  time,  to  prevent  the  urine  from  dripping 
through  into  the  vagina.  I  said,  "  I  will  put  a  little  piece 
of  sponge  into  the  neck  of  the  bladder,  running  a  silk 
string  through  it.  This  will  act  as  a  capillary  tube ;  the 
urine  will  be  turned,  and  the  fistula  cured."     It  was  a 


238  THE   STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

very  stupid  thing  for  me  to  do,  as  the  sequel  will  show. 
At  the  end  of  five  days  my  patient  was  very  ill.  She 
had  fever,  frequent  pulse,  and  real  blood-poisoning,  but 
we  did  not  know  what  to  call  it  at  that  day  and  time. 
However,  I  saw  that  everything  must  be  removed  ;  so  I 
cut  loose  my  sutures,  which  had  been  held  by  a  peculiar 
mechanical  contrivance  which  it  is  not  necessary  here  to 
detail.  Then  I  attempted  to  remove  the  little  piece  of 
sponge  from  the  neck  of  the  bladder.  It  was  about  two 
inches  long.  One  inch  occupied  the  urethra,  half  an  inch 
projected  into  the  bladder,  and  half  an  inch  into  the 
meatus.  As  soon  as  it  was  applied,  the  urine  came  drip- 
ping through,  just  as  fast  as  it  was  secreted  in  the  blad- 
der, and  so  it  continued  during  all  the  time  it  was  worn. 
It  performed  its  duties  most  wonderfully;  but  when  I 
came  to  remove  it  I  found  what  I  ought  to  have  known, 
that  the  sponge  could  not  rest  there  simply  as  a  sponge, 
but  was  perfectly  infiltrated  with  sabulous  matter,  and 
was  really  stone.  The  whole  urethra  and  the  neck  of  the 
bladder  were  in  a  high  state  of  inflammation,  which  came 
from  the  foreign  substance.  It  had  to  come  away,  and 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  pull  it  away  by  main 
force.  Lucy's  agony  was  extreme.  She  was  much  pros- 
trated, and  I  thought  that  she  was  going  to  die ;  but  by 
irrigating  the  parts  of  the  bladder  she  recovered  with 
great  rapidity,  and  in  the  course  of  a  week  or  ten  days 
was  as  well  as  ever. 

After  she  had  recovered  entirely  from  the  effects  of 
this  unfortunate  experiment,  I  put  her  on  a  table,  to  ex- 


ANOTHER  OPERATION.  239 

amine  and  see  what  was  the  result  of  the  operation. 
The  appearance  of  the  parts  was  changed  entirely.  The 
enormous  fistula  had  disappeared,  and  two  little  openings 
in  the  line  of  union,  across  the  vagina,  were  all  that  re- 
mained. One  was  the  size  of  a  knitting-needle,  and  the 
^ther  was  the  size  of  a  goose-quill.  That  encouraged  me 
very  much  in  the  operation,  for  I  said,  "  If  one  operation 
can  produce  results  such  as  this,  under  such  unfavorable 
circumstances,  why  may  it  not  be  perfectly  successful 
when  I  have  something  to  draw  the  urine  that  will  not 
produce  inflammation  of  the  soft  parts?" 

This  operation  was  performed  on  the day  of 

December,  1845.  It  inaugurated  a  series  of  experiments 
that  were  continued  for  a  long  time.  It  took  Lucy  two 
or  three  months  to  recover  entirely  from  the  effects  of 
the  operation.  As  soon  as  I  had  arranged  a  substitute  for 
the  sponge,  I  operated  on  Betsey.  The  fistula  was  favor- 
able, and  would  be  considered  a  favorable  one  at  the 
present  day.  Of  course,  I  considered  it  very  unfavorable. 
The  fistula  occupied  the  base  of  the  bladder,  and  was 
very  large,  being  quite  two  inches  in  diameter.  I  re- 
peated the  operation,  in  the  same  way  and  manner  as 
performed  on  Lucy,  with  the  exception  of  placing  in  the 
bladder  a  self-retaining  catheter,  instead  of  the  sponge. 
I  started  out  very  hopefully,  and,  of  course,  I  waited 
anxiously  for  the  result  of  the  operation.  Seven  days 
rolled  around ;  she  had  none  of  the  chills  or  fever, 
either  violent  or  sudden,  or  the  disturbance  attending 
the  previous  operation.     At  the  end  of  seven  days  the 


240  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

sutures  were  removed.  To  my  great  astonishment  and 
disappointment,  the  operation  was  a  failure.  StilL  the 
opening  had  been  changed  entirely  in  character,  and, 
instead  of  being  two  inches  in  diameter,  it  was  united 
across  entirely,  with  the  exception  of  three  little  open- 
ings, one  in  the  middle,  and  one  at  each  end  of  the  line 
of  union.      The  line  of  union  was  transverse. 

I  thought  I  could  make  some  improvements  in  the 
operation,  and  Anarcha  was  the  next  case.  Anareha  was 
the  first  case  that  I  had  ever  seen,  having  assisted  Dr. 
Henry  in  her  delivery.  She  had  not  only  an  enormous 
fistula  in  the  base  of  the  bladder,  but  there  was  an  ex- 
tensive destruction  of  the  posterior  wall  of 
opening  into  the  rectum.  This  woman  had  the  very 
worst  form  of  ve sic o- vaginal  fistula.  The  urine  was  run- 
ning day  and  night,  saturating  the  bedding  and  clothing, 
and  producing  an  inflammation  of  the  external  parts 
wherever  it  came  in  contact  with  the  person,  almost  simi- 
lar to  confluent  small-pox,  with  constant  pain  and  burn- 
ing: The  odor  from  this  saturation  permeated  every- 
thing, and  every  corner  of  the  room ;  and,  of  course,  her 
life  was  one  of  suffering  and  disgust.  Death  would  have 
been  preferable.  Bu:  :_::^:;  ::  this  kind  never  die; 
they  must  live  and  suffer.  Anarcha  had  added  to  the 
fistula  an  opening  which  extended  into  the  rectum,  by 
which  gas — intestinal  gas — escaped  involuntarily,  and 
w  a  passing  off  continually,  so  that  her  person  was  not 
only  loathsome  and  disgusting  to  herself,  but  to  every 
one  who  came  near  her. 


I  CONTINUE  MY  EXPERIMENTS.  241 

I  made  some  modifications  in  the  suture  apparatus, 
such  as  I  thought  important,  and  in  the  catheter,  and 
then  operated  on  the  fistula  of  the  bladder.     But,  like 
the  others,  she  was  only  partially  cured.     The  large  fis- 
tula was  contracted,  leaving  only  two  or  three  smaller 
ones  in  the  line  of  union,  as  in  the  other  two  instances. 
The  size  of  the  fistula  makes  no  difference  in  the  invol- 
untary loss  of  urine.     It  will  escape  as  readily  and  as 
rapidly  through  an  opening  the  size  of  a  goose-quill  as 
it  will  when  the  whole  base  of  the  bladder  is  destroyed. 
The  patient  is  not  cured  so  long  as  there  is  the  involun- 
tary loss  of  a  single  drop  of  urine.     It  would  be  tiresome 
for.  me  to  repeat  in  detail  all  the  stages  of  improvement 
in  the  operation  that  were  necessary  before  it  was  made 
perfect.     These  I  have  detailed  in  a  surgical  history  of 
the  facts,  and  to  professional  readers  are  still  well  known. 
Besides  these  three  cases,  I  got  three  or  four  more  to 
experiment  on,  and  there  was  never  a  time  that  I  could 
not,  at  any  day,  have  had  a  subject  for  operation.     But 
my  operations  all  failed,  so  far  as  a  positive  cure  was 
concerned.     This  went  on,  not  for  one  year,  but  for  two 
and  three,  and  even  four  years.     I  kept  all  these  negroes 
at  my  own  expense  all  the  time.     As  a  matter  of  course 
this  was  an  enormous  tax  for  a  young  doctor  in  country 
practice.     When  I  began  the  experiments,  the  other  doc- 
tors in  the  city  were  all  willing  to  help  me,  and  all 
seemed  anxious  to  witness  the  operations.     But,  at  last, 
two  or  three  years  of  constant  failure  and  fruitless  effort 

rather  made  my  friends  tired,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
11 


212  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

that  I  could  get  any  doctor  to  help  me.  But,  notwith- 
standing the  repeated  failures,  I  had  succeeded  in  inspir- 
ing my  patients  with  confidence  that  they  would  be  cured 
eventually.  They  would  not  have  felt  that  confidence 
if  I  had  not  felt  confident  too ;  and  at  last  I  performed 
operations  only  with  the  assistance  of  the  patients  them- 
selves. 

So  I  went  on  working  without  any  progress,  or  at 
least  permanent  result,  till  my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Rush 
Jones,  came  to  me  one  day,  and  he  said : 

"  I  have  come  to  have  a  serious  talk  with  you. 
When  you  began  these  experiments,  we  all  thought  that 
you  were  going  to  succeed  at  once,  and  that  you  were  on 
the  eve  of  a  brilliant  discovery  that  would  be  of  great 
importance  to  suffering  humanity.  "We  have  watched 
you,  and  sympathized  with  you ;  but  your  friends  here 
have  seen  that  of  late  you  are  doing  too  much  work, 
and  that  you  are  breaking  down.  And,  besides,  I  must 
tell  you  frankly  that  with  your  young  and  growing 
family  it  is  unjust  to  them  to  continue  in  this  way, 
and  carry  on  this  series  of  experiments.  You  have 
no  idea  what  it  costs  you  to  support  a  half-dozen  nig- 
gers, now  more  than  three  years,  and  my  advice  to  you 
is  to  resign  the  whole  subject  and  give  it  up.  It  is 
better  for  you,  and  better  for  your  family." 

I  was  very  much  surprised  at  what  he  said.  But  I 
said :  "  My  dear  brother,  if  I  live  I  am  bound  to  suc- 
ceed ;  and  I  am  as  sure  that  I  shall  carry  this  thing 
through  to  success  as  I  am  that  I  now  live,  or  as  sure  as 


A  NEW  PLAN  FOR  TYING  THE  SUTURE.   243 

I  can  be  of  anything.  I  have  done  too  much  already, 
and  I  am  too  near  the  accomplishment  of  the  work  to 
give  it  up  now.  My  patients  are  all  perfectly  satisfied 
with  what  I  am  doing  for  them.  I  can  not  depend  on 
the  doctors,  and  so  I  have  trained  them  to  assist  me  in 
the  operations.  I  am  going  on  with  this  series  of  experi- 
ments to  the  end.  It  matters  not  what  it  costs,  if  it  costs 
me  my  life.  For,  if  I  should  fail,  I  believe  somebody 
would  be  raised  up  to  take  the  work  where  I'  lay  it  down 
and  carry  it  on  to  successful  issue." 

The  experiments  were  continued  at  least  a  year  after 
this  conversation  with  Dr.  Jones.  I  went  on  improving 
the  methods  of  operating,  eliminating  first  one  thing  and 
then  another,  till  I  had  got  it  down  to  a  very  simple 
practice.  Then  I  said :  "  I  am  not  going  to  perform 
another  operation  until  I  discover  some  method  of  tying 
the  suture  higher  up  in  the  body  where  I  can  not  reach." 
This  puzzled  me  sorely.  I  had  been  three  weeks  without 
performing  a  single  operation  on  either  of  the  half-dozen 
patients  that  I  had  there.  They  were  clamorous,  and  at 
last  the  idea  occurred  to  me  about  three  o'clock  one 
morning.  I  had  been  lying  awake  for  an  hour,  wonder- 
ing how  to  tie  the  suture,  when  all  at  once  an  idea 
occurred  to  me  to  run  a  shot,  a  perforated  shot,  on  the 
suture,  and,  when  it  was  drawn  tight,  to  compress  it  with 
a  pair  of  forceps,  which  would  "make  the  knot  perfectly 
secure.  I  was  so  elated  with  the  idea,  and  so  enthusi- 
astic as  I  lay  in  bed,  that  I  could  not  help  waking  up 
my  kind  and  sympathetic  wife  and  telling  her  of  the 


2M  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

simple  and  beautiful  method  I  had  discovered  of  tying 
the  suture.  I  lay  there  till  morning,  tying  the  suture 
and  performing  all  sorts  of  beautiful  operations,  in  im- 
agination, on  the  poor  people  in  my  little  hospital ;  and 
I  determined,  as  soon  as  I  had  made  my  round  of  morn- 
ing calls,  to  operate  with  this  perfected  suture.  Just  as  I 
had  got  ready  to  perform  my  operation  I  was  summoned 
to  go  twenty  miles  into  the  country,  and  I  did  not  get 
back  until  late  in  the  night.  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  very 
unfortunate  thing,  and  one  of  the  keenest  disappoint- 
ments of  my  life,  because  it  kept  me  from  seeing  all 
the  beautiful  results  of  my  method.  However,  the  next 
day,  in  due  time,  the  operation  was  performed  on  Lucy. 
When  it  was  done,  I  said,  "  Could  anything  be  more 
beautiful  ?  Kow  I  know  that  she  will  be  cured  very 
soon,  and  then  all  the  rest  must  be  cured."  It  was  with 
great  impatience  that  I  waited  a  whole  week  to  see  what 
the  result  of  the  operation  would  be.  When  I  came  to 
examine  it,  it  was  a  complete  failure. 

I  then  said  to  myself,  "  There  must  be  a  cause  for 
this.  I  have  improved  the  operations  till  the  mechan- 
ism seems  to  be  as  perfect  as  possible,  and  yet  they  fail. 
I  wonder  if  it  is  in  the  kind  of  suture  that  is  used  ? 
Can  I  get  some  substitute  for  the  silk  thread  ?  Meltor, 
of  Virginia,  had  used  lead,  and  I  had  used  a  leaden 
suture  and  failed.  What  can  I  do  \ "  Just  in  this  time 
of  tribulation  about  the  subject,  I  was  walking  from  my 
house  to  the  office,  and  picked  up  a  little  bit  of  brass 
wire  in  the  yard.     It  was  very  fine,  and  such  as  was 


SUCCESS  OF  THE  SILVER  SUTURE.  245 

formerly  used  as  springs  in  suspenders  before  the  days 
of  India-rubber.     I  took  it  around  to  Mr.  Swan,  who 
was  then  my  jeweler,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  make 
me  a  little  silver  wire  about  the  size  of  the  piece  of 
brass  wire.     He  said  Yes,  and  he  made  it.     He  made  it 
^of  all  pure   silver.     Anarcha  was  the  subject  of  this 
experiment.     The  operation  was  performed  on  the  fis- 
tula in  the  base  of  the  bladder,  that  would  admit  of  the 
end  of  my  little  finger ;  she  had  been  cured  of  one  fistula 
in  the  base  of  the  bladder.     The  edges  of  the  wound 
were  nicely  denuded,  and  neatly  brought  together  with 
four  of   these   fine   silver  wires.      They  were   passed 
through  little  strips  of  lead,  one  on  one  side  of  the  fis- 
tula, and  the  other  on  the  other.     The  suture  was  tight- 
ened, and  then  secured  or  fastened  by  the  perforated 
shot  run  on  the  wire,  and  pressed  with  forceps.     This 
was  the  thirtieth  operation  performed  on  Anarcha.     She 
was  put  to  bed,  a  catheter  was  introduced,  and  the  next 
day  the  urine  came  from  the  bladder  as  clear  and  as 
limpid  as  spring  water,  and  so  it  continued  during  all 
the  time  she  wore  the  catheter.     In  all  the  preceding 
operations,  where  the  silk  was  used  for  a  suture  at  the 
base  of  the  bladder,  cystitis  always  resulted.     The  ure- 
thra was  swollen  continually,  and  the  urine  loaded  with 
a  thick,  ropy  mucus.     "With  the  use  of  the  silver  suture 
there  was  a  complete  change  in  these  conditions. 

I  was  always  anxious  to  see  the  result  of  all  experi- 
ments ;  but  this  was  attended  with  such  marked  symp- 
toms of  improvement,  in  every  way,  that  I  was  more 


246  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LITE. 

anxious  now  than  ever.  When  the  week  rolled  around 
— it  seemed  to  me  that  the  time  would  never  come  for 
the  removal  of  the  sutures — Anarcha  was  removed  from 
the  bed  and  carried  to  the  operation-table.  With  a  pal- 
pitating heart  and  an  anxious  mind  I  turned  her  on  her 
side,  introduced  the  speculum,  and  there  lay  the  suture 
apparatus  just  exactly  as  I  had  placed  it.  There  was 
no  inflammation,  there  was  no  tumefaction,  nothing  un- 
natural, and  a  very  perfect  union  of  the  little  fistula. 

This  was  in  the  month  of  May,  I  think,  though  pos- 
sibly it  was  June  (1849).  In  the  course  of  two  weeks 
more,  Lucy  and  Betsey  were  both  cured  by  the  same 
means,  without  any  sort  of  disturbance  or  discomfort. 
Then  I  realized  the  fact  that,  at  last,  my  efforts  had  been 
blessed  with  success,  and  that  I  had  made,  perhaps,  one 
of  the  most  important  discoveries  of  the  age  for  the 
relief  of  suffering  humanity. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

Am  prosperous  and  happy — Death  of  my  second  son,  followed  by  a  severe 
attack  of  diarrhoea — Go  to  New  York  without  benefit — Recommended 
to  go  to  Cooper's  Well,  where  I  find  relief — Return  of  the  disease — Go 
North  again — Return  in  improved  health — Recurrence  of  the  disease — 
Threatened  with  death. 

Dueing  the  time  these  experiments  were  being  per- 
formed, from  1845  to  1849,  everything  was  flourishing 
with  me.  I  had  all  the  practice  that  I  could  attend  to, 
and  more  than  I  ought  to  have  attempted.  Many  a  time 
I  said  to  my  wife :  "  We  are  too  happy ;  I  have  never 
seen  a  man  in  my  life  that  was  satisfied  with  his  sur- 
roundings, but  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  and  have  nothing 
more  in  this  world  to  desire.  I  am  happy  in  my  home, 
in  my  wife  and  children,  in  my  friends,  in  my  position, 
in  my  prospects  for  the  future.  I  am  perfectly  content, 
and  nothing  could  induce  me  to  leave  Montgomery.  I 
have  no  ungratified  ambition  or  desire."  I  had  been 
solicited  to  go  to  New  Orleans,  by  my  friends  Professor 
Stone  and  Erasmus  D.  Fenner,  as  that  would  offer  me  a 
wider  field,  and  they  even  spoke  of  making  me  a  pro- 
fessor in  the  medical  college.  I  had  no  desire  or  capacity 
for  a  professorship.   I  said  to  my  wife,  "  Can  these  things 


2±8  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LITE. 

be ;  and  can  such  things  last  always  \  Can  these  good 
things  always  be,  and  will  not  a  blow  come  some  time  or 
another  ?  Where  will  it  strike  ?  It  is  so  unusual  to  see 
a  man  in  the  frame  of  mind  that  I  am,  that  I  fear  some- 
thing dreadful  will  happen  to  us/' 

The  blow  came  in  the  prolonged  sickness  of  my  little 
three-years-old  son,  a  beautiful  boy,  our  second  son.  His 
death  was  the  first  time  that  death  invaded  our  house- 
hold. It  was  a  dreadful  blow  to  me,  and  that  was  the 
beginning  of  our  sorrows.  He  was  born  on  Christmas- 
day,  1845,  and  had  passed  through  all  the  dangers  of 
early  childhood,  but  in  1843  he  contracted  diarrhoea,  and 
died  in  October. 

Six  weeks  after  my  successes  with  the  silver  suture, 
and  just  as  I  was  beginning  to  revive  from  my  long 
series  of  exhausting  experiments,  I  completely  collapsed. 
I  was  broken  down,  and  had  contracted  diarrhoea,  and 
so  I  took  my  family  and  went  to  Butler  Springs.  I  car- 
ried three  or  four  of  my  uncured  patients  with  me,  who 
were  suffering  from  fistula,  to  operate  on ;  but  I  was  too 
ill  to  do  anything.  I  was  utterly  prostrated.  My  disease 
grew  apace ;  it  could  not  be  controlled,  and  I  saw  that  I 
was  on  the  verge  of  going  into  that  chronic  state  in 
which,  in  that  day,  there  was  such  an  attendant  mor- 
tality. Being  very  anxious  about  myself,  I  concluded 
to  go  to  the  North  for  a  time,  and  for  a  necessary  change 
of  climate.  I  was  so  weak  and  emaciated  that  I  could 
hardly  make  the  journey  to  New  York.  My  wife  accom- 
panied me.     I  was  there  during  July,  August,  and  Sep- 


A  VISIT  TO  COLUMBUS  PROPOSED.  249 

tember  (1849).  I  got  no  better;  I  was  a  little  better  at 
times,  but  there  was  no  permanent  improvement.  I  re- 
turned to  Montgomery  in  October,  not  much  better  than 
when  I  left,  if  any.  But  soon  after  my  return  I  gradu- 
ally grew  worse.  My  friends  saw  that  I  was  fading 
away.  I  was  extremely  emaciated ;  I  could  take  no  food 
that  seemed  to  nourish  me,  and  I  was  reduced  to  eating 
milk  and  bread,  and  that  ran  away  from  me  almost  like 
pouring  water  through  a  funnel. 

My  friends  came  to  see  me  and  to  sympathize  with 
me ;  but  they  looked  so  distressed  and  unhappy,  and  my 
senses  became  so  acute,  that  I  dreaded  the  thought  of 
seeing  any  one,  and  at  last  I  said  to  my  wife,  "  I  wish 
that  I  could  escape  from  my  friends ;  their  visits  are  pain- 
ful to  me.  They  try  to  comfort  me  with  words ;  but  I 
read  in  their  faces,  *  This  poor  fellow,  what  a  pity  to  see 
him  going  off  so  fast  and  so  soon,  but  his  fate  is  inevi- 
table.' "  My  wife,  seeing  how  unhappy  I  was,  suggested 
that  I  should  go  to  Columbus,  on  a  visit  to  our  relatives 
there.  She  had  an  uncle,  Robert  Kyle,  and  his  family, 
there. 

I  was  glad  to  escape  the  visits  of  my  friends,  and 
said,  "  Get  my  things  ready,  and  I  will  go  to-morrow." 
I  walked  around  to  Montgomery  Hall,  about  one  hun- 
dred yards  from  where  I  lived,  that  being  the  stage 
office.  Colonel  Jim  Powell,  who  was  then  the  great 
mail-carrier  and  stage-coach  man  of  the  country,  ran  a 
line  of  coaches,  or  rather  omnibuses,  every  morning  to 
and  from  the  train,  and  took  passengers  going  north  and 


250  THE  STOEY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

east.  I  said  to  Mr.  Powell,  "  I  want  to  go  to  Columbus 
to-morrow  morning ;  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  direct 
jour  man  to  call  for  me  at  my  house,  and  take  me  to  the 
railroad  station  ? " 

He  said,  "Certainly,  doctor,  with  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure." 

The  next  morning  I  sat  on  the  portico,  as  emaciated  as 
a  skeleton,  with  my  wife  and  children  waiting  to  see  me 
get  into  the  stage.  At  last  eight  o'clock  came,  the  hour 
I  was  to  start.  Eight  o'clock  came  and  no  stage.  So  I 
walked  around  to  the  stage-office,  and  being  sick  and 
cross,  I  said  some  very  irritable  and  disagreeable  things 
to  Mr.  Powell.  He  apologized  for  disappointing  me,  and 
said  that  he  would  surely  send  the  stage  for  me  on  the 
following  morning,  there  being  no  other  on  that  day.  I 
was  very  unhappy  all  that  day  long.  It  made  me  disap- 
pointed and  despondent  not  to  have  gotten  off.  But  the 
next  morning  the  stage  came  in  time.  I  took  my  seat  in 
the  cars — there  was  but  one  passenger-  coach ;  it  was  a 
short  train,  and  there  was  not  a  great  amount  of  travel. 
Having  purchased  a  morning  paper  as  I  went  along,  I 
took  my  seat  in  the  rear  end  of  the  coach.  I  held  my 
paper  up  before  my  face,  to  keep  the  people  from  seeing 
me  or  talking  to  me. 

Just  after  I  sat  down  I  saw  Colonel  McLaquelly,  of 
Mississippi,  who  had  been  Governor  of  that  State,  and 
whom  I  had  known  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  and  after  I 
was  a  grown-up  man.  He  was  a  great  friend  of  my 
father's,  having  known  him  during  the  war  of  1812,  as 


MEETING  AN  OLD  FRIEND.  251 

they  were  both  young  soldiers  together  in  Charleston. 
He  was  coming  North  with  his  wife  and  two  children. 
He  was  leading  a  little  boy  by  the  hand,  about  seven 
years  old,  and  sat  down  about  the  middle  of  the  car,  in 
front  of  me.  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  will  not  speak  to  him. 
I  have  not  seen  him  for  some  ten  or  twelve  years,  and  I 
will  not  introduce  myself  to  him,  because  I  will  have  to 
recount  to  him  the  history  of  my  painful  illness,  and 
speak  to  him  of  my  dark  future."  There  -I  sat,  and  the 
cars  rolled  off.  About  two  hours  had  passed,  and  I  sat 
there  looking  out  of  the  window,  with  no  one  to  talk  to. 
At  last  the  colonel's  little  boy  said/ "  Father,  I  want  a 
drink  of  water."  His  father  got  up,  took  him  by  the 
hand,  walked  to  the  baggage-car,  in  front,  and  gave  him 
the  drink  of  water,  and  came  back.  Just  as  he  was  going 
to  sit  down,  his  eyes  rested  on  me,  and  as  I  looked  up  I 
involuntarily  said,  "  Colonel  McLaquelly."  He  came  up 
to  me,  slightly  reaching  out  his  hand,  and  I  said,  as  he 
evidently  did  not  know  me,  as  I  rose,  "  I  am  Dr.  Marion 
Sims,  of  Montgomery.  I  used  to  know  you  when  I  was 
a  little  boy." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said ;  "  but,  doctor,  what 
is  the  matter  with  you,  you  are  so  changed  ? " 

I  said :  "  Colonel  McLaquelly,  I  recognized  you  as 
soon  as  you  entered  the  car,  and  would  like  to  have 
spoken  to  you,  but  I  knew  that  you  would  ask  me  this 
question,  and  the  subject  is  a  painful  one  to  me.  I  have 
got  chronic  diarrhoea,  and  I  shall  die  in  about  three 
months.     I  am  hopelessly  incurable.     I  have  not  seen  a 


252  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

case  get  well  in  Montgomery,  and  I  have  seen  a  great 
many  cases  there.  It  is  a  clironic  disease  of  the  climate. 
It  is  endemic  all  through,  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi. 
It  is  what  consumption  is  in  New  England.  When  you 
see  in  the  South  a  man  in  vigorous  health  and  middle  life 
gradually  wasting  away,  and  at  the  end  of  eighteen 
months  drop  as  a  skeleton  into  the  grave,  you  may  take 
it  for  a  positive  fact  that  he  has  died  of  chronic  diar- 
rhoea. If  in  New  England  you  see  a  vigorous  young 
man,  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  of  age,  gradually  wast 
ing  away,  going  to  his  grave  as  a  skeleton,  ten  to  one  he 
has  died  of  consumption.  Consumption  is  comparatively 
rare  here,  while  chronic  diarrhoea  is  common.  A  man 
occasionally  gets  well  of  consumption  in  New  England ; 
but  from  this  diarrhoea,  unless  he  can  change  his  climate 
and  whole  habits  of  life  completely,  he  never  recovers." 

He  patiently  heard  what  I  had  to  say,  and  then  he 
said :  "  You  are  thin  and  emaciated,  but  I  do  not  at  all 
think  that  you  are  going  to  die.  You  have  got  too 
much  vivaciousness  expressed  in  the  eye,  though  your 
physical  frame  does  not  show  it.  If  you  will  do  as  I  tell 
you  I  am  sure  that  you  will  get  well." 

I  said,  "  I  have  consulted  medical  men  in  New  York 
and  Philadelphia,  and  everywhere,  and  nobody  has  been 
able  to  do  anything  for  me." 

"  Did  you  never  hear  of  Cooper's  "Well  ? "  he  asked, 
and  I  replied  that  I  had  not.  u  Well,"  he  said,  "let  me 
tell  you  about  it.  It  is  in  Mississippi.  This  well  was 
dug  a  few  years  ago,  and  you  know  that,  when  our  army 


ADVISED  TO  GO  TO  COOPER'S  WELL.  253 

returned  from  Mexico  year  before  last,  many  of  our  sol- 
diers came  back  with  chronic  diarrhoea,  the  very  disease 
that  you  have,  and  a  good  many  of  them  died ;  some,  of 
course,  got  well." 

I  said,  "  Yes,  I  have  attended  several  cases  and  they 
all  died  ;  none  of  them  ever  got  well  about  here.  I  can 
not  recall  a  single  case  in  this  part  of  the  State  that  got 
well;' 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  what  I  know  of 
Cooper's  Well.  Captain  Black,  of  the  regiment  in  which 
my  son  was  a  member,  was  very  much  worse  off  than 
you  are,  and  he  went  there,  and  is  as  well  as  ever  now. 
He  went  to  Cooper's  Well,  and  was  cured  in  a  month 
or  two.  My  own  son  Abraham  was  very  ill,  he  was  a 
lieutenant,  and  he  was  certainly  as  bad  as  or  worse  off  than 
you  seem  to  be,  and  he  also  went  there,  and  to-day  he  is 
as  well  as  ever."  And  so  he  went  on  to  enumerate  case 
after  case,  giving  me  a  history  of  six  or  seven  of  the 
young  men  that  had  returned  from  Mexico,  who  were  in 
a  desperate  state  with  chronic  diarrhoea,  all  of  whom 
were  cured  at  Cooper's  Well.  "  Now,"  he  went  on  to 
say,  "  I  believe  if  you  will  go  to  Cooper's  Well  you  will 
be  cured." 

The  time  soon  came  for  us  to  part ;  he  continuing  on 
to  Washington  City,  where  he  was  going  as  a  member  of 
Congress.  He  had  been  detained  a  fortnight  after  the 
time  that  he  should  have  been  there,  on  account  of  the 
sickness  of  his  little  boy,  who  had  his  arm  broken,  and  it 
was  then  in  a  sling.     He  had  been  thrown  from  a  pony, 


254  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

and  the  doctor  who  had  charge  of  the  broken  arm  was 
not  willing  that  the  boy  should  be  removed  until  union 
had  taken  place ;  hence  his  detention,  and  hence  my 
good  fortune  in  meeting  him  as  I  did.  When  I  arrived 
at  Columbus,  of  course  I  was  very  much  elated  with  what 
I  had  heard.  I  told  my  uncle  what  Colonel  McLaquelly 
had  advised  me  to  do,  and  I  told  my  cousin,  Bob  Kyle, 
all  about  it.  He  said,  "  Of  course  you  are  going  to 
Cooper's  Well?" 

I  said,  "  Bob,  I  haven't  a  cent  of  money  in  the  world. 
I  borrowed  five  hundred  dollars  to  go  to  New  York 
with,  and  I  thought  that  would  save  my  life,  but  I  came 
back  no  better.  I  have  no  money  with  which  to  go  to 
Cooper's  Well,  or  anywhere  else." 

He  said,  "Never  mind  that,  you  are  going,"  and 
with  that  he  walked  into  the  next  room  and  brought  me 
out  two  hundred  dollars,  and  said,  "You  go  home  and 
pack  up  your  trunks,  take  Cousin  Theresa,  and  go 
straight  to  Cooper's  Well."  ,  I  did  not  stay  long  in 
Columbus,  for  I  got  no  better  by  the  visit,  and  I  was 
very  anxious  to  get  home,  and  to  tell  my  wife  the  news 
about  this  Cooper's  Well.  So  I  hurried  back,  and  as 
soon  as  she  heard  of  it  she  immediately  commenced 
getting  ready.  She  said,  "  We  will  start  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  and  take  the  baby  and  the  eldest  child  with 
us." 

When  my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Rush  Jones,  heard  of 
it,  he  came  in  the  next  day  and  sent  for  my  wife  to 
have  a  talk  with  her.     He  said :  "  Marion  tells  me  that 


JOURNEY  TO   COOPER'S  WELL.  255 

you  are  going  to  Cooper's  Well  to-morrow,  and  that  you 
are  going  to  take  Mary  and  Fanny  with  you."  My  wife 
said  that  we  were.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  have  come 
here  to  have  a  talk  with  you  about  it.  I  have  come 
here  to  tell  you  candidly  that  you  must  not  do  it.  He 
is  a  doomed  man,  and  will  die  in  six  weeks.  It  is  impos- 
sible for  you  to  take  him  there  ;  if  you  do  start,  you  will 
bring  him  back  in  a  box." 

She  said,  "  If  he  remains  here  he  will  die ;  if  he  can 
go  there,  there  is  some  hope  for  him  and  he  may  get 
well." 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  he  can  not  get  there ;  he  will  die 
on  the  road.  It  is  impossible.  If  he  does  go  to  Coop- 
er's Well,  he  is  too  far  gone  for  it  to  be  of  any  benefit 
to  him.     It  isn't  worth  while ;  you  must  not  go  there." 

She  said,  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go,  and  we 
are  going  to-morrow.  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty,  and, 
besides,  he  has  set  his  heart  on  it.  We  shall  go,  at  the 
risk  of  his  dying  on  the  way." 

If  we  could  have  gone  to  Cooper's  Well  via  New 
Orleans,  it  would  not  have  been  a  difficult  thing  for  us 
to  do.  But,  unfortunately,  it  was  at  this  time  the 
middle  of  December,  when  the  cholera  was  in  New 
Orleans,  and  a  man  with  the  diarrhoea,  in  a  cholera  at- 
mosphere, stood  no  chance  for  his  life.  The  diarrhoea 
is  a  premonitory  stage  of  cholera.  We  were  obliged  to 
go  to  Jackson,  Mississippi,  directly  across  the  country, 
where  there  were  very  poor  facilities  for  traveling.  We 
went  to  Selma  by  boat,  and  from  there  we  took  stage  to 


256  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Marion,  and  so  on  across  the  country.  There  had  been 
heavy  rains,  and  the  water-courses  were  high ;  the 
swamps  were  flooded,  and  the  stages  would  get  mired 
and  break  down.  Once  we  had  to  camp  all  night  in 
a  swamp,  sitting  in  the  stage  until  morning,  while  the 
driver  went  for  a  farmer,  two  or  three  miles  off,  and 
hired  him  and  an  ox-team  to  drag  us  out  of  the  mire. 
In  this  way  we  drove  into  the  town  of  Jackson.  We 
arrived  there  on  the  very  last  day  of  the  month,  having 
taken  two  weeks  to  go  from  Montgomery,  a  distance  now 
traveled  in  a  few  hours  by  rail.  The  privations  that  I 
went  through  with  on  this  journey  were  almost  incredi- 
ble. I  was  nearly  starved  to  death,  living  on  crackers 
and  milk  when  I  could  get  them.  When  I  arrived  at 
Jackson,  it  was  on  the  last  day  of  the  month  and  the  last 
day  of  the  year  (1849).  It  was  in  the  midst  of  a  tremen- 
dous snow-storm,  which  was  a  most  unusual  thing  for 
that  latitude.  The  snow  was  deep,  and  it  was  followed 
by  a  heavy,  sharp  frost,  so  that  the  limbs  were  broken 
from  the  pine-trees  by  the  weight  of  the  ice  and  the  ac- 
cumulation of  snow  that  had  been  gathered  upon  them. 
In  many  places  we  had  to  wait,  and  at  Jackson  we  re- 
mained three  days. 

At  last  we  arrived  at  Cooper's  Well,  having  to  ride 
on  horseback  to  Clinton.  We  found  Cooper's  Well  to  be 
a  most  God-forsaken  looking  place.  Mr.  Cooper,  the  pro- 
prietor, was  a  Methodist  preacher,  a  circuit-rider.  He  had 
a  comfortable  log  house  for  himself  and  his  family,  and  a 
number  of  log  cabins,  built  on  a  space  of  five  or  six  acres 


HEALTH  IMPROVED  AT  COOPER'S  WELL.        257 

of  land,  giving  the  place  the  appearance  of  a  deserted  ne- 
gro quarter.  He  had  a  wife  and  seven  or  eight  children. 
Some  of  the  children,  the  boys,  were  nearly  grown  up. 
He  gave  us  a  hearty  welcome  and  said  that  he  was  very 
sure  that  the  water  would  effect  a  cure  for  me.  There 
^was  no  doctor  to  consult  about  the  use  of  the  water.  He 
said  that  a  good  many  people  were  injured  by  the  use  of 
the  water,  as  they  were  impatient  to  get  well,  and  conse- 
quently took  too  much  of  it.  But,  with  a 'prudent  use 
of  the  water,  he  was  was  very  sure  that  I  would  reap  sub- 
stantial benefit  from  it. 

I  had  been  living  on  stale  bread  and  boiled  milk 
and  could  eat  nothing  else.  This  diet  was  continued 
for  about  two  days,  and  then  Mr.  Cooper  told  me  to 
take  a  glass  of  the  water  seven  times  a  day,  and  then  to 
increase  the  doses  of  it  until  it  began  to  show  some 
action  on  the  kidneys.  The  third  day  he  said,  "  Now  I 
think  that  yon  can  change  your  diet."  I  commenced 
eating  immediately  (it  was  just  after  the  hog-killing  sea- 
son) whatever  was  set  before  me ;  and  many  things  that 
I  ate  I  had  not  dared  to  touch  before.  I  ate,  especially, 
fat  meat,  middle  meat,  and  salt  pork — the  latter  had 
been  salted  perhaps  a  month  before.  The  diarrhoea  was 
checked  from  the  time  I  began  to  be  a  partaker  of  the 
water ;  I  had  a  ravenous  appetite,  and  I  drank  the  water 
according  to  the  express  directions.  I  ate  as  I  had  never 
been  able  to  before.  I  remained  there  twenty-seven  days, 
and  gained  twenty-seven  pounds.  I  was  impatient  to  get 
away,  and  left  too  soon.    The  result  of  the  sudden  arrest- 


iz^  ;:  :7e   iiirrLsi  ~i=  ::  ^  on  a  dropsical  effect. 

My  nkles  woe  swollen,  my  lege  were  swollen  above  the 
-,-.  -  i  =17  :-c  a- i  L- is  -ere  blz-iToi.  StTI  I  :el: 
that  I  wis  m  flic  road  to  recovery,  and,  especially,  be- 
:a~5e  :7c  — ir.iii-  iiirri:-:;  ~ ;,;  o:i.:r:"lei. 

I  \zi-  :7ere    :l  :7e   8  .Yi    ::  ~    1:'      i::^^ 

Orleans,  where  I  remained  about  a  month.  I  carried 
— ::7  lit  ienv  ;7:.;  ::'  :7e  ~e:er  :: ::_  C:  :i  i: '=  W 77  :.._.: 
continued  the  use  of  it,  and  also  contined  to  eat  meat  all 
the  time.  I  spent  a  month  very  pleasantly  in  New  Or- 
le-ins.  m:  r::  a:-^:z:ei  ~ :'_  -j  iririii  77:\  ?.  T.  77_- 
l-h.  ~7:  ~:~i  .leu  rra~rliLi'  ~:_  Jemy  LTli  azi  ?:•:.:- 
rTii;  in  :7r  5.me  7-:-:-e7  —  77  'is.  A: :  i:  :7e  7r~:  ;:  77.r ;".-. 
I  returned  home.  Everybody  was  amazed  to  see  me  and 
the  wonderful  change  that  had  been  effected,  and  all  were 
very  happy  of  course,  I  immediately  plunged  into  busi- 
ness, and  in  the  course  of  a  week  was  completely  occu- 
pied with  my  professional  duties.  In  two  months  more 
I  had  a  return  of  the  diarrhoea,  a  good  deal  worse  than 
I  had  ever  had  it  before,  and  it  grew  worse  day  by  day. 
In  July  I  again  returned  to  Cooper's  Well ;  but  the  water 
and  the  treatment  did  not  have  the  same  beneficial  effect 
that  it  had  upon  me  during  my  visit  there  before.  I  re- 
mained there  about  two  months,  and  then  I  concluded 
that  it  was  best  for  me  to  get  into  a  colder  clime.  So  I 
returned  home  by  the  way  of  ]few  Orleans,  and  immedi- 
ately went  to  New  York,  where  I  remained  about  two 
:  n.Ts.  I  was  always  a  little  better  in  New  York  and 
Philadelphia  than  in  any  other  place.     Whenever  I  left 


EXPECTING  TO  DIE.  259 

New  York  and  went  to  New  England  I  was  worse.  If  I 
went  to  Brooklyn  for  any  length  of  time  I  became  worse, 
and  always  felt  better  when  I  got  back  home  again  to 
New  York. 

I  had  supposed  that  in  New  York  I  was  better  able 
"to  control  my  diet;  but  subsequent  observation  proved 
that  that  was  not  the  case.  The  cause  of  my  being 
better  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia  than  elsewhere 
was  the  fact  of  the  purity  of  the  water  of  those  two 
cities.  In  all  New  England,  where  I  had  been,  the  water 
was  hard,  and  hard  water  was  and  is  very  injurious  to 
the  irritated  mucous  membrane  of  the  gastro-intestinal 
canal. 

I  returned  from  New  York,  in  the  last  of  October,  a 
little  improved,  and  dragged  through  the  winter  very 
miserably,  and  tried  to  work ;  but  I  was  not  able  to  do  a 
great  deal.  True,  I  was  better  than  I  had  been ;  but  I 
was  never  free  from  diarrhoea.  I  was  thin  and  ema- 
ciated, and  exceedingly  irritable.  At  last  I  was  com- 
pelled to  go  to  my  bed.  I  thought  that  I  should  die. 
While  lying  in  bed  I  wrote  out  the  history  of  my  opera- 
tions for  vesico- vaginal  fistula  for  the  press,  and  sent  the 
article  to  Dr.  Isaac  Hays,  the  editor  of  "  The  American 
Journal  of  the  Medical  Sciences."  It  was  published  in 
the  January  number  of  that  journal  (1852),  as  my  last 
free-will  offering  to  the  medical  profession  before  I 
should  quit  this  world. 

It  is  hardly  worth  while  for  me  to  go  into  detail, 
minutely,  of  the  trials,  tribulations,  and  sufferings  that 


260  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  passed  through.  In  1852  I  had  gone  to  New  York, 
and  also  during  the  summer  of  1849,  1850,  and  1852, 
with  the  hope  that  the  change  of  climate  would  do 
something  for  me,  and  afford  me  some  relief.  In  June, 
1852,  I  fell  down  with  a  sun-stroke,  after  a  long  walk, 
at  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Twenty -seventh 
Street,  and  was  carried  to  my  boarding-house,  at  Mrs. 
Jones's,  No.  27  West  Twenty-seventh  Street.  During 
the  month  or  six  weeks  before  I  had  improved  very 
much,  but  this  sun-stroke  reproduced  my  disease  with 
the  greatest  violence,  and  nothing  seemed  to  control  it. 
In  a  state  of  desperation,  I  went  to  Portland,  Con- 
necticut, to  visit  my  friend  Dr.  George  O.  Jarvis.  I 
remained  there  a  little  while,  but  I  got  no  better.  I  re- 
turned to  the  city,  and  went  over  and  engaged  board  in 
Brooklyn,  which  was  the  worst  thing  that  I  could  have 
done,  on  account  of  the  water,  and  I  grew  worse  day  by 
day.  At  last,  thinking  that  I  must  die,  I  concluded  to  go 
to  Philadelphia,  as  I  had  some  friends  there.  The  idea 
also  was  to  leave  my  wife  and  children  among  those  who 
could  sympathize  with  them  when  I  was  gone.  We  ar- 
rived in  Philadelphia,  my  wife  and  myself,  and  stopped 
at  a  boarding-house  recommended  to  me  in  Spruce  Street. 
The  next  day  we  got  in  a  buggy  and  rode  up  through  the 
Spring  Garden  District,  in  various  directions,  in  search 
of  a  little  house  that  I  might  rent,  and  where  my  wife 
could  prepare  the  food  that  was  necessary  for  me.  At 
the  hotels  and  boarding-houses  I  could  get  nothing  that 
was  suitable  for  a  man  as  sick  as  I  was.     At  last  I  came 


KENT  A  HOUSE   IN  PHILADELPHIA.  261 

to  a  little  house  in  Vine  Street,  between  Seventh  and 
Eighth,  and  near  the  residence  of  the  great  artist,  Rem- 
brandt Peale.     It  had  on  the  door  "  To  Let."     I  applied 

to  Mr. ,  corner  of  Market  and  Eleventh  Streets.     I 

went  to  see  the  proprietor,  and  asked  him  the  price  of 
the  house  by  the  month,  and  he  said  twenty-five  dollars 
a  month.  He  asked  me  for  references,  and  I  told  him 
that  I  preferred  to  pay  in  advance.  He  said,  "How 
long  do  you  want  it?" 

I  said,  "  I  want  it  as  long  as  I  live.  I  want  to  rent 
your  house  to  die  in  it." 

He  replied,  "  Judging  by  your  looks,  you  will  not 
want  it  long." 

I  said,  "  I  shall  die  within  a  month  or  two."  We 
found  it  unfurnished,  so  we  rented  some  beds  and  also 
some  chairs,  and  two  or  three  tables,  and  put  in  it,  sim- 
ply that  my  wife  could  get  what  was  necessary  for  me. 
I  grew  worse  and  worse  daily,  and  at  last  I  was  so  near 
dead  that  I  telegraphed  for  my  father,  in  Montgomery, 
to  come  and  take  charge  of  my  wife  and  family  and  take 
them  home.  That  day  there  was  a  severe  storm  at  the 
North,  of  hail  and  wind,  and  as  good  luck  would  have  it 
the  storm  extended  to  the  South,  blowing  down  all  the 
telegraph-poles,  costing  Mobile  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars  in  the  destruction  of  property.  So  my  father 
did  not  receive  the  telegram,  and  therefore  he  did  not 
come  to  Philadelphia. 

When  I  saw  that  I  could  not  recover,  I  sent  for  my 
friend  Dr.  Isaac  Hays  to  come  and  see  me.     He  came 


2G2  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

very  promptly.  I  explained  to  him  the  condition  of  my 
affairs,  and  said  to  him  that  I  felt  that  I  was  going  to 
die,  and  that  I  wanted  to  introduce  him  to  my  wife.  He 
said  that  he  thought  I  had  better  take  cod-liver  oil,  and 
not  to  give  up.  My  wife  went  out  and  bought  a  bottle 
of  cod-liver  oil,  though  we  hardly  had  the  money  to 
spare  for  it.  It  was  placed  on  the  mantel-shelf ;  I  never 
took  it.  But  this  gave  me  an  idea.  I  said  to  my  wife, 
"Cod-liver  oil  is  a  disagreeable  thing  to  take;  pickled 
pork  is  a  good  deal  more  palatable.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber with  what  benefit  I  used  it  the  first  time  I  was  at 
Cooper's  Well,  how  I  ate  pickled  pork,  and  how  I  gained, 
and  how  I  got  well  from  that  very  moment  ? " 

She  said  Yes ;  and  immediately  went  out  and  bought 
some.  She  boiled  it,  and  then  afterward  broiled  it,  or 
fried  it,  I  do  not  know  which.  I  had  always  traveled, 
wherever  I  went,  with  some  of  the  water  from  Cooper's 
Well  in  jugs.  So  I  said,  "  We  will  inaugurate  the  same 
diet  here  that  we  did  at  Cooper's  Well,  drink  the  water, 
and  eat  salted  pickled  pork."  So  we  began  it,  and,  to  my 
great  surprise,  in  four  or  five  days  the  diarrhoea  was  un- 
der control.  This  was  inaugurated  the  last  of  August, 
and  in  a  month  I  was  able  to  get  up  out  of  bed,  and  to 
walk  about  two  hundred  yards,  with  some  little  help.  I 
happened  to  pass  by  a  grocery-store  one  day,  when  I  had 
been  up  about  a  month,  and  I  went  in  to  weigh  myself, 
and  I  found  that  I  weighed  just  ninety  pounds.  Of 
course,  I  had  been  much  lighter  than  this  two  or  three 
weeks  previously. 


RECURRENCE   OF  THE  DISEASE.  263 

In  the  month  of  October  (1852)  I  was  getting  well. 
I  then  said  to  myself,  "  I  will  not  make  a  mistake  this 
time,  as  I  have  done  heretofore,  in  returning  to  Alabama 
too  soon.  I  have  always  gone  back  to  that  locality  in 
October,  when  the  weather  was  still  warm.  Now  I  in- 
tend to  remain  at  the  North  till  December.',  We  re- 
turned to  Alabama  about  the  19th  or  the  20th  of  De- 
cember (1852).  I  was  feeling  pretty  well.  I  had  no 
diarrhoea  now,  and  I  thought  that  at  last  I  was  cured  of 
this  dreadful  disease,  which  I  had  then  had,  off  and  on, 
for  more  than  three  years.  On  Christmas- Day  we  went 
to  Mount  Meigs,  five  days  after  my  return  from  Phila- 
delphia, to  dine  with  our  friends  the  Lucases.  There 
I  had  a  chill.  The  next  day  we  returned  home.  The 
diarrhoea  returned,  and  could  not  be  controlled  by  any 
possible  means.  I  grew  worse  and  worse ;  within  a  week 
I  was  confined  to  my  house,  and  within  one  month  I  was 
confined  to  my  bed.  By  that  time  my  throat  and  tongue 
were  so  ulcerated  that  I  could  hardly  speak,  and  any 
nourishment  that  I  took  passed  through  me  like  water, 
and  almost  unchanged.     Even  milk  was  not  digested. 

Early  in  February  (1853)  I  had  given  up  all  hope,  and 
one  day  the  bell  tolled.  My  wife  was  in  hopes  I  would 
not  hear  it.  But  when  it  began  I  called  to  her  from  an 
adjoining  room  and  wanted  to  know  who  was  dead. 
She  said  that  it  was  Mr.  Bob  Gilmer.  I  said,  "  Since  I 
was  taken  with  this  diarrhoea,  let  me  see — how  many 
have  died  ?  There  have  been  P.  D.  Sayer,  Mr.  Ward 
Allen,  Mrs.  James  Smith,  Mrs.  Calvin  " — and  I  went  on 


264  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFZ. 

to  count  up  the  numbers.  I  said,  "  Bob  Gilmer  is  the 
eleventh  or  twelfth  important  person  in  this  commu- 
nity that  has  died  of  the  disease  that  I  have,  since  I 
was  taken  with  it."  I  said,  u  They  have  all  died,  and  I 
have  had  a  hard  struggle  for  my  life,  and  now  I  must 
die  too."  Of  course,  my  poor  wife  tried  to  cheer  me  as 
much  as  she  could. 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  if  I  had  the  physical  strength  and 
force,  and  the  moral  courage  to  do  what  I  ought  to  do, 
I  could  get  well." 

"  ^Yhat,  then,  ought  you  to  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  ought  to  do,"  I  said:  •  I 
ought  to  sell  out  everything,  take  my  wife  and  children 
and  go  to  Xew  York ;  because,  whenever  I  have  gone  to 

-  York  I  have  been  better.  A  few  months  ago  I 
thought  that  I  was  cured.  If  I  could  change  my  cli- 
mate entirely  I  believe  that  even  yet  I  might  be  cured 
and  restored  to  health.  But  that  is  impossible,"  I  con- 
tinued. 

"  But  I  don't  think  it  is  impossible,"  she  said. 

I  replied,  "  I  have  no  heart  for  work,  and  I  can  not 
do  anything.  I  can  not  undertake  the  annoyances  and 
troubles  we  would  have  to  go  through  to  get  ready,  and 
it  would  be  a  most  selfish  thing,  after  all,  for  me  to  do. 
Supposing,  after  we  had  broken  up  here,  I  should  die  on 
the  road,  or  in  Xew  York,  and  leave  you  and  the  chil- 
dren, without  friends  and  among  strangers,  and  without 
money.  I  hardly  think  that  a  right  thing  for  me  to  do. 
I  had  better  remain  here  and  die  among  my  friends, 


PREPARE  TO  LEAVE  THE  SOUTH.      265 

where  you  could  get  somebody  to  sympathize  with  you 
and  to  help  you  in  your  struggles  for  life." 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  I  take  a  different  view  of  the 
thing  altogether.  The  whole  question  can  be  arranged 
as  you  would  have  it,  without  giving  you  a  bit  of 
trpuble."  In  two  weeks  she  had  arranged  everything. 
She  had  sold  out  my  interest  in  the  drug-store  to  her 
brother,  Dr.  Rush  Jones.  I  had  put  live  thousand  dol- 
lars in  there  four  years  before.  He  and  Dr.  Baldwin,  who 
were  partners  with  me,  agreed  to  give  their  notes  for 
seven  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,  payable  in  twelve 
months,  for  my  interest.  My  house  and  lot  were  sold 
for  ten  thousand  dollars,  on  a  credit  bearing  eight  per 
cent  interest.  We  hadn't  many  negroes.  We  had  no 
planting  interests,  and  the  dozen  negroes  we  had  were 
house  negroes  and  town  negroes  —  cooks,  waiters,  and 
body- servants  only.  We  called  them  together,  and  I 
said,  "  Eow  we  are  going  away,  never  to  come  back 
again.  You  must  all  select  masters  with  whom  you  are 
willing  to  live,  and  the  man  that  you  select,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  will  be  your  master  hereafter.  We  will  agree 
about  the  valuation." 

They  all  began  to  weep,  and  felt  very  badly  over 
the  thought  of  our  leaving  them.  They  said,  "  Oh,  no, 
master,  we  don't  want  to  know  any  other  person  for  a 
master  but  you,  and  we  don't  want  to  know  any  other 
woman  for  a  missus  but  Mrs.  Theresa.  We  don't  want 
to  be  sold.  Let  us  stay  here,  and  we  will  take  Colonel 
Clauton  for  an  agent,  and  we  will  look  to  him  for  pro- 

12 


2o6  THE  STOPwY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

tection  in  everything,  and  pay  him  the  same  wages  we 
would  pay  yon.  "We  will  take  care  of  ourselves  the  best 
way  we  can,  hoping  that  you  will  finally  be  restored,  and 
come  back  to  your  old  home  again  among  us." 

I  told  the  negroes  to  do  exactly  as  they  pleased,  and 
that  I  would  not  put  any  of  them  in  slavery  against  their 
will.  I  consented  to  their  plan,  and  wished  them  to  be 
happy,  and  well  taken  care  of.  So  all  my  affairs  were 
arranged  and  settled  so  that  I  could  leave.  I  left  some 
debts  behind  me ;  I  had  made  collections  and  paid  off 
some,  and  others  were  still  unpaid.  I  left  Montgomery 
for  New  York  about  the  first  of  May  (1S53),  so  near 
dead  that  no  one  thought  that  I  would  ever  get  to  New 
York.  I  had  to  lie  down  all  the  way  on  the  railroad 
train.  The  diarrhoea  was  uncontrolled.  We  went  to 
Richmond,  Virginia,  without  stopping,  the  journey  be- 
ing a  very  fatiguing  one  for  me.  I  determined  to  go 
from  there  to  Rockford  Island  Springs.  We  had  to  go 
by  canal  up  the  James  River  to  Lynchburg,  and  we 
arrived  there  on  the  second  day.  I  was  not  comfortably 
situated  there.  I  stopped  at  Lexington,  and  sent  to  the 
springs  for  the  water.  I  remained  there  a  week,  but 
did  not  derive  any  great  benefit  from  it,  as  I  had  an- 
ticipated. I  concluded  it  would  be  about  as  well  for  me 
to  take  the  water  with  me  as  to  stay  there,  and  so  I 
left,  and  went  on  to  New  York. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 

Settling  permanently  in  New  York — Plan  of  a  woman's  hospital — Prepare 
to  lecture — Coolness  and  neglect  of  members  of  the  profession — In 
desperate  circumstances. 

I  spent  the  summer  partly  in  New  York  and  partly 
in  Middletown  and  Portland,  Connecticut ;  and  then,  in 
September,  we  returned  to  New  York  to  seek  a  home. 
After  looking  around,  I  found  one  at  No.  89  Madison 
Avenue,  between  Twenty  -  eighth  and  Twenty -ninth 
Streets,  for  sale,  and  bought  it  for  fifteen  thousand  dol- 
lars ;  the  proprietor  taking  the  notes  due  from  Dr. 
Jones,  my  brother-in-law,  for  five  thousand  dollars,  and 
the  other  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  I  appro- 
priated toward  furnishing  the  house.  It  was  a  hazard- 
ous thing  to  do.  I  had  a  little  money  only  over  and 
above  this,  not  more  than  one  thousand  dollars.  I  had 
no  friends,  no  influence,  no  health,  and  nothing  to  rec- 
ommend me  to  business.  Fortunately,  I  had  published 
my  article  on  the  treatment  of  vesico- vaginal  fistula  a 
year  before  that,  in  "  The  American  Journal  of  the  Medi- 
cal Sciences,"  and  the  doctors  had  read  it  everywhere, 
and  were  very  much  surprised  at  the  claims  set  up  of 
rendering  this  troublesome  and  loathsome  affection  easily 


•2'-^  THE   STORY   OF  \[Y  IiFI 

and  successfully  cured.  They  hardly  believed  it  TVhen- 
evei  I  was  introduced  to  any  of  the  doctors,  they  all 
knew  who  I  was  by  that  article,  and  by  my  previous 
contributions  to  the  medical  literature  of  the  day. 

It  may  be  wondered  how  1  lived  without  friends 
and  without  business.  Mine  is  not  an  isolated  example 
of  a  man's  living  in  a  first-class  house,  with  first-class 
surroundings,  and  yet  struggling  with  the  most  abject 
want.  I  had  some  Southern  patients  who  followed  me 
to  Xct  York.  They  were  boarders  in  the  house,  and 
besides  these  we  had  some  other  boarders,  so  that  our 
house  supported  me  almost  by  keeping  these  boarders. 
Soon  after  my  arrival  in  New  York.  I  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Dr.  Mott,  Dr.  Francis,  Dr.  Buck,  Dr. 
Watson,  and  indeed  all  of  the  leading  surgeons  of  the 
town  of  that  day  and  time.  Dr.  Buck  was  exceedingly 
anxious  to  see  me  perform  some  of  my  operations  with 
the  silver  suture,  and  so  invited  me  to  go  and  help 
operate  on  a  Mrs.  Crane,  who  had  lacerated  perinaeum, 
and  whom  he  had  operated  upon  unsuccessfully  two 
or  three  times.  I  gladly  went  with  him,  loaned  him 
my  instruments,  and  showed  him  how  to  perform  the 
operation.  She  was  cured  in  a  single  week.  A  week 
or  two  after  this.  Dr.  Buck  came  to  me  to  borrow  my 
:_~:ruments  to  operate  on  a  case  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula 
in  the  Xew  York  Hospital.  I  loaned  him  the  instru- 
ments, and  would  gladly  have  gone  with  him  to  assist 
him  in  the  operation,  but  he  did  not  invite  me.  I  felt 
Trry  much  hurt  by  it.     I  expected  that  the  surgeons  in 


THE  DOCTORS  PERFORM  MY  OPERATION.       269 

New  York  would  give  me  something  to  do  in  a  branch 
which  I  understood  so  well.  But  I  was  disappointed. 
By  and  by  a  patient  was  sent  to  Dr.  Mott  with  vesico- 
vaginal fistula,  and  he  had  the  kindness  to  ask  me  to 
operate  upon  it.  I  did  so,  in  his  presence  and  the  pres- 
ence of  his  son,  Dr.  Alexander  B.  Mott.  The  case  was  a 
very  bad  one ;  but  the  patient  was  cured.  It  was  the 
first  case  ever  cured  in  New  York.  With  my  advent 
to  New  York,  the  subject  of  vesico- vaginal -fistula,  lacer- 
ated perinasum,  and  the  subject  of  parturition,  seemed 
all  at  once  to  interest  the  profession  more  than  they  had 
ever  done  before. 

Yery  soon  it  was  heard  that  Dr.  Buck  and  Dr.  Wat- 
son and  some  of  the  other  doctors  were  performing  all 
these  operations  very  successfully  in  the  other  hospitals. 
I  could  not  advertise  ;  I  could  get  nothing  to  do ;  I  had 
no  means  of  bringing  myself  before  the  public,  or  of 
reaching  the  profession,  because  I  had  no  hospital  in 
which  to  operate  or  to  perform  these  marvelous  opera- 
tions. As  soon  as  the  doctors  had  learned  what  they 
wanted  of  me,  they  dropped  me.  As  soon  as  they  had 
learned  how  to  perform  these  operations  successfully  in 
the  New  York  Hospital  and  elsewhere,  they  had  no 
further  use  for  me.  My  thunder  had  been  stolen,  and 
I  was  left  without  any  resources  whatever.  I  said  to 
myself,  ;<  I  am  a  lost  man  unless  I  can  get  somebody 
to  create  a  place  in  which  I  can  show  the  world  what 
I  am  capable  of  doing."  This  was  the  inception  of  the 
idea  of  a  woman's  hospital.     If  the  profession  had  re- 


270  THE   STOEY   OF  iTY   LIFE. 

Graved  me  kindly  in  ^ew  York,  and  acted  honorably 
and  gentlemanly  and  generously  toward  me,  I  would  not 
have  thought  of  building  a  woman's  hospital.  Some  peo- 
ple have  given  me  the  credit  of  coming  to  Uew  York 
with  the  express  purpose  of  establishing  a  great  hospital 
devoted  to  the  diseases  of  women  and  their  treatment. 
When  I  left  Alabama  for  l$ew  York  I  had  no  idea  of 
the  sort  in  the  world.  I  came  simply  for  a  purpose,  the 
most  selfish  in  the  world — that  of  prolonging  my  life. 
I  saw  that  I  could  not  live  in  any  other  place  than  New 
York,  and  for  that  reason,  and  no  other,  I  came. 

Seeing  that  I  must  create  an  institution  in  which  to 
work,  I  we^i  at  it  with  all  my  might.  But,  even  then, 
my  health  was  feeble  ;  I  still  had  some  diarrhoea,  and 
the  moral  depression  under  which  I  labored,  and  the 
disappointments  that  I  had  in  not  getting  practice  or 
encouragement  from  my  medical  brethren,  produced  a 
most  demoralizing  effect  upon  me.  I  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  Dr.  Francis.  I  told  him  of  the  great  dis- 
.covery  that  I  had  made ;  I  spoke  to  him  on  the  neces- 
y  of  a  hospital  for  the  treatment  of  the  diseases  of 
women,  in  which  their  improvement  could  evidently  be 
effected.  He  took  up  this  subject  wirh  great  enthusi- 
asm, and  advised  me  to  go  at  once  and  lay  it  before  Dr. 
Mott,  Dr.  S:c~r::;.  and  some  others.  I  ^rent  and  saw 
Dr.  Mott  and  had  a  long  talk  with  him.     He  encouraged 

in  the  idea,  and  said  he  would  be  glad  to  help  me  in 
any  way  that  he  could.  I  went  and  saw  Dr.  Alexander 
H.  Stevens.     He  said,  "I  have  read  your  articles  on 


MEETING   OF  THE  PEOFESSION   PROPOSED.      271 

*  Vesico-Yaginal  Fistula '  with  the  greatest  interest  in 
the  world,  and  I  think  that  you  ought  to  have  a  field  in 
which  you  can  work.  Now,  the  Episcopalians  are  build- 
ing a  hospital,  or  about  to — St.  Luke's  ;  and  I  will  give 
you  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Muhlenberg.  He  is  its 
founder,  and  the  leader  in  the  movement.  I  will  rec- 
ommend him  to  set  aside  a  ward  in  his  hospital  expressly 
for  diseases  of  women,  and  that  you  be  made  surgeon 
of  it."  He  continued,  "  Let  me  tell  you  what  I  will  do. 
I  will  call  a  meeting  of  the  profession,  at  the  College 
of  Physicians  and  Surgeons,  and  then  you  can  explain 
all  your  views  to  the  profession  precisely  as  you  have 
to  me,  showing  the  necessity  for  a  new  hospital  for  the 
treatment  of  the  diseases  of  women.  Thus  vou  will 
be  properly  introduced  to  the  doctors  of  the  city,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  but  that  the  thing  can  be  accom- 
plished." 

"  But,"  I  said,  ft  doctor,  that  is  impossible.  I  can 
not  make  a  speech.  It  would  frighten  me  to  death  to 
stand  up  before  an  audience  to  speak." 

He  said,  "  I  do  not  know  why  you  can  not  stand  up 
before  an  audience  of  one  hundred  gentlemen  and  speak 
as  fluently  as  you  can  before  me.  All  that  you  want 
to  do  is  to  tell  the  tale  of  the  suffering  of  women  in 
their  conflicts  with  these  terrible  diseases.  You  must  go 
there  and  tell  the  story  of  how  you  made  the  discovery, 
and  say  what  it  is  to  lead  to  in  the  future,  and  I  think 
that  the  profession  will  take  you  up  with  a  great  deal  of 
warmth." 


272  THE   STOEY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  said,  "  You  must  let  me  oft  for  a  time,  mv  dear 
doctor,  to  think  about  this,  but  I  don't  think  that  I  can 
do  it."  I  had  refused,  because  Dr.  Mott  had  promised  to 
help  me,  and  I  knew  that  he  was  all-powerful,  and  that 
he  didn't  require  me  to  make  a  speech.  He  would  in- 
dorse and  help  me  all  he  could.  I  had  performed  an 
operation  for  Dr.  Mott  several  weeks  before  this,  and 
I  had  not  seen  him  since.  I  went  at  once  to  tell  him  of 
the  interview  that  I  had  had  with  Dr.  Stevens,  and  to 
ask  him  to  give  me  the  assistance  that  I  wanted  to  start 
a  hospital.  He  said  that  he  had  thought  a  good  deal 
about  the  subject,  and  that  it  seemed  to  be  such  a  her- 
culean task,  an  undertaking  so  gigantic,  and  one  so  cer- 
tain  to  result  in  failure,  that  he  had  concluded  to  do 
nothing  further  in  the  matter. 

I  felt  exceedingly  mortified  and  disappointed.  I 
went  home,  and  in  my  heart  I  blamed  Dr.  Mott  for  hav- 
ing deceived  me.  I  ungenerously,  perhaps,  laid  consid- 
erable blame  upon  him,  for  I  really  thought  that  he  and 
his  son  had  seen  me  operate  in  consultation,  and,  having 
got  out  of  me  all  that  they  expected  or  hoped  to,  they 
therefore  had  no  f urther  use  for  me.  Of  course,  I  felt 
suspicious  of  everybody,  as  I  was  entirely  and  utterly 
friendless  and  helpless.  Dr.  Francis  alone  seemed  to 
encourage  and  stand  by  me.  I  became  very  gloomy  and 
melancholy,  and  heartily  regretted  that  I  had  ever  come 
to  Xew  York.  However,  as  I  had  come,  there  was  now 
no  alternative  of  doing  anything,  excepting  through  Dr. 
Stevens.    I  then  sat  down  and  wrote  out  deliberately  my 


DR.   STEVENS  CHANGES  HIS   MIND.  273 

thoughts  and  views  on  the  necessity  for  the  establish- 
ment of  a  hospital  for  the  treatment  of  the  diseases  of 
women.  Then  I  went  in  search  of  Dr.  Stevens.  By  this 
time  nearly  two  months  had  elapsed  since  Dr.  Stevens 
had  kindly  invited  me  to  deliver  a  lecture  before  the 
medical  profession  in  the  city  of  New  York.  When  I 
found  him  at  home  I  told  him  that  I  had  come  to  com- 
ply with  his  suggestion  to  lecture  before  the  medical 
profession  of  the  city.  He  received  me  very  kindly,  and 
said,  "  I  have  been  wanting  to  see  you  ever  so  much 
lately,  but  I  did  not  know  where  to  find  you.  You  re- 
member when  you  talked  to  me  on  the  subject,  two 
months  ago,  you  spoke  with  such  earnestness  and  en- 
thusiasm that  I  was  completely  captivated  and  carried 
away  with  your  idea  of  establishing  a  hospital,  and  I 
even  gave  you  a  letter  to  Dr.  Muhlenberg,  and  recom- 
mended him  to  set  aside  a  ward  in  his  hospital,  and  to 
have  you  appointed  surgeon  of  the  same.  I  wrote  it 
in  good  faith,  to  carry  forward  the  views  I  expressed  to 
you.  But  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  that  since  then  I  have 
been  talking  with  my  friends  in  the  medical  profession, 
and  I  find  here  such  a  degree  of  universal  opposition  to 
you  and  to  your  enterprise,  that  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I 
can  not  now  give  you  the  privilege  or  opportunity  of 
addressing  the  profession  under  my  auspices." 

Of  course,  this  surprised  me  greatly,  and  it  was  a  stab 
that  I  little  expected.  I  do  not  think  that  I  had  smiled 
in  three  months  before,  not  even  at  home  in  my  own 
family.     I  had  become  bitter  and  vindictive,  and  when 


274  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Dr.  Stevens  addressed  me  thus  I  broke  out  in  a  sort  of 
sardonic  smile  or  grin,  and  said : 

"Doctor,  this  is  about  the  first  time  that  I  have 
smiled  or  laughed  in  three  months.  You  are  the  only 
honest  man  that  I  have  found  since  I  came  to  New  York 
in  the  profession  here,  and  the  only  one  who  has  dared 
to  tell  me  to  my  face  that  I  am  persecuted  and  hunted 
down.  I  have  felt  that  I  was  here  under  a  cloud  all  the 
time ;  that  I  had  no  friends,  nor  one  upon  whom  I  could 
rely,  Dr.  Francis  excepted."  I  continued,  "  As  to  the 
letter  of  introduction  that  you  gave  me  to  Dr.  Muhlen- 
berg, I  will  return  that  to-morrow.  I  thank  you  kindly 
for  putting  the  idea  into  my  head  to  address  the  medical 
profession  ;  I  think  that  I  shall  do  so  some  day  anyhow. 
You  have  pointed  out  to  me  what  is  my  duty  in  the 
matter,  and  I  shall  do  it." 

So  I  left  the  doctor  with  a  very  heavy  heart,  deplor- 
ing the  misfortune  that  had  driven  me  to  the  city  of 
New  York.  Some  two  or  three  weeks  passed  over,  and 
I  was  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  do.  The  small  amount  of 
money  that  I  had  brought  to  New  York  I  deposited  with 
Henfold,  Clay  &  Co.,  druggists,  with  whom  the  drug 
firm  I  was  associated  with  in  the  city  of  Montgomery  had 
done  business.  I  found  in  Mr.  Clay  a  kind-hearted  per- 
sonal friend.  I  went  to  see  him,  to  find  out  how  much 
money  I  had  to  my  credit  with  them.  I  was  surprised 
to  find  that  I  had  only  one  hundred  and  sixteen  dollars. 
I  came  home  and  called  my  wife  aside,  in  order  to  have 
a  consultation.     I  told  her  that  I  thought  we  would  have 


IN  DESPERATE  CIRCUMSTxlNCES.  275 

to  leave  Xew  York ;  that  I  saw  no  way  in  the  world  for 
doing  what  I  had  started  out  to  do.  I  told  her  that  I  had 
been  to  Mr.  Clay's,  and  that  we  had  remaining  only  one 
hundred  and  sixteen  dollars,  and  that  it  would  be  better 
even  to  go  back  to  Montgomery  than  to  remain  in  ISTew 
York  tinder  such  circumstances  as  we  found  ourselves : 
with  bad  health,  a  large  family  of  children,  no  money, 
no  friends.  I  did  not  see  how  we  could  possibly  go  on 
much  longer.  She  very  coolly  replied  that  we  must  not 
go  back  to  Montgomery ;  that  we  would  go  into  the 
country,  as  I  had  proposed,  and  rent  a  cottage  until  I 
could  live  down  the  opposition  of  the  doctors.  She  said 
that  she  knew  that  I  would  eventually  succeed  in  what 
I  had  undertaken. 

Although  it  was  as  dark  as  it  was  possible  to  conceive, 
she  said  that  she  had  an  abiding  confidence  that  God 
had  not  driven  ns  out  of  our  comfortable  home  in  the 
South,  to  place  us  here  for  an  idle  and  foolish  purpose. 
She  further  continued  that  she  would  never  consent  to 
giving  up  and  going  back  to  Alabama.  We  were  re- 
duced to  the  very  lowest  extremity.  My  courage  was 
all  gone ;  but  she  was  as  calm  and  as  quiet  as  possible  for 
one  to  be.  I  thought  that  I  would  have  gone  crazy,  and 
I  did  not  know  what  in  the  world  to  do,  things  looked 
so  dark.  And  then  we  had  to  send  our  children  to  the 
public  schools,  because  we  were  not  able  to  send  them  to 
a  private  school.  Of  course,  the  public  schools  were 
good  enough  ;  but  we  would  not  have  chosen  the  public 
schools  as  the  place  to  send  girls  of  ten  and  twelve  years 


276  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

of  age ;  and  to  see  my  wife  cutting  up  her  dresses,  her 
new  fine  dresses,  to  make  her  children  appear  respectable 
at  school,  and  doing  her  own  cooking  to  save  nine  dollars 
a  month — all  together,  I  was  as  near  going  into  an  insane 
asylum  as  a  man  ever  was,  and  not  go  there.  Things  had 
come  to  the  very  last  extremity. 

The  struggle  continued,  and  at  this  time  I  was  re- 
duced to  such  an  extremity  for  the  want  of  means  to 
live  on  that  I  felt  obliged  to  rent  my  house  and  go  to 
the  country,  which  I  wanted  to  do,  and  which  my  wife 
opposed,  and  get  somebody  to  take  the  house  and  occupy 
it.  The  Mrs.  Seymour  with  whom  we  had  boarded  pre- 
viously to  my  taking  the  house,  was  obliged  to  give  up 
her  house — a  boarding-house — in  Fourth  Avenue,  and, 
knowing  the  dilemma  in  which  I  was  placed,  she  offered 
to  take  the  house  and  board  me  and  my  family  for  the 
rent  of  it ;  giving  the  third-floor  front  room  for  my  wife 
and  myself,  and  packing  the  children  in  the  top  of  the 
house  and  elsewhere,  as  she  could  conveniently  put  them, 
while  the  rest  of  the  house  was  given  up  to  the  boarders. 
One  whole  year  of  misery  was  passed  in  this  way.  Eever 
in  this  whole  world  was  a  poor  family  so  tyrannized  over 
as  we  were.  We  could  not  get  rid  of  Mrs.  Seymour,  and 
had  to  put  up  with  all  her  insolence  and  insults. 

At  the  end  of  the  year  I  wanted  her  to  leave ;  but 
she  said  "  No,"  that  she  had  possession  and  was  going  to 
hold  it.  I  then  had  to  apply  to  the  courts  to  have  her 
ejected,  and  an  officer  came  to  put  her  out.  Of  course, 
the  heart-burnings  and  unhappiness  attending  the  asso- 


A  TROUBLESOME  TENANT.  277 

ciation  with  such  a  woman  were  enough  to  demoralize 
any  family  and  render  them  perfectly  miserable.  This 
malicious,  vindictive  woman  then  sued  me  for  a  breach 
of  contract,  claiming  that  she  had  hired  the  house  for 
a  longer  period,  and  brought  in  a  number  of  charges 
against  me  to  the  amount  of  twenty  -  five  hundred 
dollars.  The  case  was  tried  before  a  referee ;  the  evi- 
dence was  all  taken,  and  this  referee  was  to  decide  it. 
He  sent  for  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Benedict,  and  'told  him  that 
the  case  was  evidently  one  of  black-mail,  but  that  as  I 
was  a  perfect  stranger,  and  just  starting  in  an  enterprise 
whereby  I  would  need  all  the  friends  it  could  have,  it 
would  be  better  for  me  not  to  accept  a  verdict  against  a 
woman  so  malicious  and  bad-tempered,  and  suggested 
that  the  wise  thing  for  him  would  be  to  give  a  verdict 
of  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  in  her  favor. 
Not  that  she  was  entitled  to  one  cent,  but  her  acceptance 
of  that  verdict  would  shut  her  mouth,  and  keep  her  from 
saying  disagreeable  things  about  me  in  the  community ; 
because,  as  she  did  not  hesitate  to  swear  to  a  lie,  she 
would  not  hesitate  to  tell  one. 


CHAPTEE  XYII. 

A  friend  in  need — I  lecture  before  the  medical  profession — Action  of  the 
profession  —  Plan  for  organizing  a  woman's  hospital  —  Aid  of  Mrs. 
William  E.  Dodge,  Mrs.  Doremus,  and  Mrs.  Codwise — The  hospital 
established. 

One  day,  just  at  this  time,  I  happened  to  meet  a 
man  named  Beattie,  whom  I  had  known  very  well  in 
Montgomery.  I  was  his  physician  there,  and  had  at- 
tended him  at  a  long  spell  of  sickness.  When  I  met 
him  in  the  Astor  House  neighborhood,  he  inquired  how 
I  was  nourishing,  and  I  told  him  my  melancholy  story 
— that  I  could  do  nothing ;  that  the  profession  opposed 
me,  all  of  them;  that  the  influence  radiating  from  the 
New  York  Hospital  was  so  powerful  that  I  could  make 
no  impression  at  all.  I  told  him  that  I  could  not  reach 
the  public  ;  that  I  could  not  advertise,  could  get  nothing 
to  do,  and  I  was  in  a  state  of  absolute  starvation. 

He  said,  "  Oh,  well,  you  carried  everything  before 
you  in  Alabama,  and  I  have  thought  that  if  your  health 
were  better,  with  your  energy  and  working  capacity,  you 
would  finally  do  something  in  New  York.  But  I  see  it 
all  now.  It  is  the  Northern  prejudice  against  a  Southern 
man." 


AN   OLD  FRIEND   AND  A  NEW   ONE.  279 

I  said,  "  No,  Mr.  Beattie,  there  isn't  a  particle  of 
political  sentiment  in  it.  It  is  only  that  I  do  not  be- 
long to  any  dominant  clique  in  the  medical  profession 
in  New  York.  I  am  alone  and  solitary ;  I  have  no 
friends,  and  nobody  through  whom  I  can  reach  the  ear 
of  the  public." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  not  help 
you  ;  however,  I  happen  to  know  the  very  man  here  in 
this  city,  who,  if  he  takes  a  fancy  to  you,  ean  help  you. 
I  will  bring  him  to  see  you  to-morrow  evening." 

Of  course,  I  could  not  imagine  that  Mr.  Beattie,  a 
comparative  stranger,  could  bring  in  anybody  who  could 
help  me,  when  I  had  applied  to  men  so  strong  in  the 
city,  and  could  get  no  help  from  them.  However,  Mr. 
Beattie  appeared  about  eight  o'clock  on  the  appointed 
evening,  and  with  him  came  a  tall  man  (Henri  L.  Stuart 
by  name),  with  thin,  brown  reddish  hair,  a  wax  nose,  and 
certainly  a  most  remarkable  looking  man.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  intelligence,  great  energy,  and  as  he  walked 
into  the  room  and  shook  hands  with  me  he  said : 

"  My  friend,  Mr.  Beattie,  has  told  me  something 
about  your  antecedents  and  your  experience  in  New 
York ;  and  I  have  come  here  to  have  a  talk  with  you, 
and  to  know  what  it  is  all  about." 

I  never  felt  so  much  as  I  did  then  as  if  a  man  had 
come  into  my  room  to  take  my  measure  to  lay  me  out. 
We  sat  down,  however,  and  I  began  at  the  beginning 
and  told  him  the  whole  story.  I  gave  him  a  history 
of  the  discoveries  that  I  had  made  before  I  came   to 


280  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

New  York,  and  I  told  him  of  my  affliction  and  my  bad 
health  ;  I  told  him  of  the  treatment  that  I  had  received 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  at  the  hands  of  Dr.  Mott  and 
of  Dr.  Stevens,  and  indeed  of  the  whole  medical  pro- 
fession ;  that  I  had  no  friends,  no  money,  and  no  in- 
fluence ;  I  told  him  of  all  the  objects  and  aims  I  had, 
what  I  anticipated  in  establishing  the  hospital,  the  need 
of  it,  and  the  benefits  accruing  to  humanity  and  event- 
ually to  science.  He  himself  was  an  enthusiast,  and 
seemed  to  have  grasped  the  whole  subject.     He  said  : 

"  It  is  very  lucky  that  Dr.  Stevens  did  not  stand  to 
his  word,  for  you  to  deliver  a  lecture  before  the  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  and  Surgeons.  If  he  had  you  would 
have  been  in  the  hands  of  a  clique.  It  would  not  have 
represented  the  whole  medical  profession,  and  you  would 
not  have  been  as  strong  as  you  are  at  this  moment, 
when  you  seem  to  have  no  friends  whatever.  Now,  I 
will  tell  you  what  is  to  be  done.  We  will  rent  Stuyve- 
sant  Hall ;  we  will  advertise  in  the  newspapers  for  the 
doctors  to  attend  a  meeting,  which  is  to  be  addressed  by 
Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  late  of  Montgomery,  Alabama,  on 
the  necessity  of  a  hospital  in  the  City  of  New  York  for 
the  treatment  of  the  diseases  of  women.  We  will  in- 
vite all  the  leading  doctors  in  town  by  special  cards,  and 
they  will  come  to  hear  you,  and  will  be  wise  enough  to 
indorse  what  you  have  to  say.  If  you  tell  your  story  to 
the  crowd  of  doctors  that  I  will  get  there,  as  you  have 
told  it  to  me,  we  will  carry  the  day.  If  you  don't  make 
the  d — dest  failure  that  a  man  ever  made  in  this  world, 


PLAN  FOR  A  LECTUEE.  281 

or  can  make,  in  one  month  from  now,  instead  of  being 
a  beggar,  as  you  make  yourself  out,  you  will  be  dictator, 
and  command  the  situation  entirely.'' 

I  could  not  understand  this  man.  I  could  not  pos- 
sibly see  how  he  was  to  do  this  wonderful  thing.  I  felt 
like  a  child  in  his  hands.  He  sat  down,  and  wrote  out 
cards  of  invitation,  and  ordered  seven  hundred  of  them 
to  be  printed.  He  then  went  down  and  rented  Stuy- 
vesant  Hall.  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  had  no  money, 
and  that  he  must  not  run  me  in  debt  nor  ruin  me  with 
expenses.     He  said : 

"  Damn  the  expense ;  never  mind  the  money.  We 
are  obliged  to  have  a  certain  amount  of  money,  let  what 
will  happen,  and  somebody  has  got  to  furnish  it." 

So  he  went  along,  but  I  did  not  see  how  he  was 
going  to  achieve  the  wonderful  thing  of  which  he  was 
sanguine.  I  did  not  know  who  he  was,  or  what  his  busi- 
ness was,  or  where  he  came  from.  I  seemed  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  a  destiny  that  I  could  not  control. 

The  cards  were  issued,  and  the  doctors  were  invited 
to  meet  at  Stuyvesant  Hall  on  a  certain  day  of  May, 
1854.  Mr.  Stuart  had  put  it  off  to  a  certain  date,  be- 
cause he  said  there  were  public  meetings,  anniversary 
occasions,  and  other  gatherings  that  would  interfere  with 
it,  and  that  the  people  would  not  come  out.  And  now 
the  mystery  surrounding  him  was  soon  to  be  solved. 

The  day  before  the  lecture  was  to  be  delivered  he 
called  at  my  house  in  the  morning,  and  said :  "  I  want 
you  to  go  down  town  with  me."     I  said,  "What  do 


282  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

you  want  of  me?"  "iNever  mind,"  he  said,  "I  want 
you  to  go  with  me  ;  so  pnt  on  your  hat,  for  there  is  no 
time  to  lose."  The  first  place  that  we  went  to  was  to  the 
"Tribune"  office.  We  walked  up-stairs,  and  he  intro- 
duced me  to  Mr.  Greeley.  A  poor  little  backwoods- 
man like  myself  was  frightened  when  we  came  in  con- 
tact with  so  great  and  busy  a  man  as  Horace  Greeley. 
He  said  :  "  Mr.  Greeley,  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  my 
friend  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  late  of  Alabama.  He  has 
an  enterprise  here  in  the  interest  of  humanity,  to  the 
public,  and  to  everybody."  And  in  a  few  brief  words 
he  set  it  forth.  Then  he  said  that  he  would  like  a  few 
words  of  a  little  notice  for  me  in  the  paper.  Mr.  Gree- 
ley said,  "  Mr.  Stuart,  write  your  notice  and  send  it  in." 
And  he  did  so. 

Well,  when  we  walked  down  stairs,  I  was  frightened 
at  what  had  happened.  We  walked  along  and  went  into 
the  "  Times "  office,  and  there  he  introduced  me  to  Mr. 
Raymond.  He  made  the  same  little  stereotyped  speech, 
and  received  the  same  invitation  to  write  out  his  notice. 
Then,  when  he  came  down,  he  wanted  me  to  go  to  the 
"  Herald  "  office ;  and  I  said  that  I  was  tired  of  this  and 
I  did  not  like  it,  and  that  he  might  go  in  and  make  his 
speeches  just  as  well  without  me.  He  said,  u  Why,  you 
are  my  card,  and  I  am  playing  you  off."  So  I  followed 
him  like  a  dog.  We  ran  up-stairs  all  the  morning,  I 
wondering  at  the  man's  audacity  and  the  power  which 
he  seemed  to  exert,  and  the  politeness  with  which  he  was 
received  and  treated  wherever  we  went.     Suffice  it  to  say 


A  CALL  FROM  DR.  HOTT.  283 

that  he  took  me  into  fifteen  editorial  sanctums,  and  made 
the  same  little  speech  to  every  man  there  in  authority. 
In  the  "  Herald "  we  saw  Mr.  Hudson ;  we  did  not  see 
the  great  James  Gordon  Bennett.  In  every  place  that 
Mr.  Stuart  went  he  was  treated  with  the  same  consider- 
ation ;  in  every  office  the  editor  promptly  consented  to 
what  he  wished.  The  next  morning  the  leading  papers 
of  the  city  had  little  notices  under  the  head  of  their  city 
news,  about  four  or  five  lines  long,  calling 'the  attention 
of  the  medical  profession  and  the  public  at  large  to  the 
lecture  that  would  be  delivered  in  Stuyvesant  Hall  that 
night. 

About  ten  o'clock  that  morning  I  was  up  in  the  top 
of  the  house  working  away  at  my  lecture,  reading  it  over 
and  becoming  familiar  with  it,  and  wondering  if  I  would 
have  anything  of  an  audience,  and  what  they  would  do 
after  they  got  together,  when  one  of  the  children  came 
running  up  and  said,  "  Father,  Dr.  Mott  is  in  the  parlor." 
I  had  seen  Dr.  Mott  but  once  in  four  months,  and  that 
was  the  time  he  turned  me  away  in  February,  and  I  had 
felt  very  unkindly  toward  him  after  that.  But,  as  I  went 
down  the  steps,  my  heart  warmed  toward  him.  I  knew 
what  had  brought  him ;  that  it  was  the  little  notice 
in  the  newspapers  that  morning ;  that  he  did  not  want 
to  be  left  out  in  the  cold  if  anything  was  to  be  done. 
When  I  saw  him  he  was  as  pleasant  as  possible  for  him 
to  be,  as  he  always  was  with  everybody,  and  he  said : 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you  this  morning,  and  to  tell 
you  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  can  not  be  with  you  this  even- 


2S4 


.-._    : :    ^~~f5-iL:  L_5~.~.f.      11  ~         :_..".:.    11.- 

BeO,  has  just  arrived  from  Mobile,  and  we  have  a  family 

^■irlrrizi*,  ~  1:.:1  —.1    :.   r~i  i_f    ::  :1t    It   -\:.:t  ;:  "  -- 
ing  with  you.     I  want  to  remind  yon,  howevei         :  I 

:l:  ::-r  v:ir  n:~ene^:,  ii:    ill  :lr  ~t:  7  z:-:  .:„_:  t 
*:-:£r  :•:•  rir  i":>:i:  ::.  ~lr!i  y:i   Miif  ~::_  _:.  Friz  :■:="= 
::.::!  ::  :i:: ;  1; :::;::.     1  ~>"_  ::    :-_  7:1  :!;,:  I  1_  1.1  :« 
:--_t  :m   Iajjt  :;    i:    ;.i-:"_i^t-  I   ;;,-_  :;:•  -;-  in  :ir: lur- 
ing the  objects  which  jon  have  in  view.97 

I  T-I-UtI  Lim   "fry  zii:li.  ."_..  ::li  Li—    -  lii   :•:•- 
;i:n   :•:    illiif-  :•:  Lis  :~ :::   in   -7   !f-:.:irf.   :.-_i 

that  I  could  not  mention  it  without  honor. 

Tie  i~izi~^  :  _;_7  : "...  ".  :  -  11  .  :::n  sin  :••:  5-rTer. 
rlere  :Y1  .li  '_:.:. It"  riiz.  :!:.:  ]:..  s  ~  ill.  ini  1  izz- 
:::5t:",  1=  :  _i:.:t.  ::  :.:::.  :b  :.lrr=  —:ili  Or  n:  miifnc-e 
or  no  doctors  there,  and  that  the  entire  scheme  would 
Tii  in  ::.:/.::  t  11::.  S.-ir.  mi  I  —  fn:  1 :  ~tl  e-irlj 
_ 1  :le  111  1_1:  ■_■.".  ... !  I  : :  : ".:  .._:.-  — :.:  in  :li  iilie-ie 
pir:  :::1t1:.tt.  Pr-f-=ri:'.- i"_f  .1 :  ::  :.-  ':  :_.:..  ::  ::.:_r 
i  ::  :■-■:■- i  in.  >:  :ii:  rle  1:.-  -7.-  -....in  -.is  fill 
T_rir  :  ::11  m:  _:.-..  l:i  Ifss  :!::  :~:  Inn  ..-  .  mi 
lf~    ::■:•■.■:  r=  :lfrf.     I  —15  -..-  _v. :1   =in-ri«.r-i  ::   sfi 


:  .7  ::    :.:::..:.  \-   zz~      Ailir  ;.   — 11t  I  It.:.". 

in  :1t  iiiim:-  —  mimlm  —1t.t  :"_-:-  -  7  It:  ::  :le 
1:1.^  ~?.,-.  11:.  Srnr.  ~;;  siirlm'  iir-ir  '.7  nir„  :i:  It 
..  "  Tils  r:-:c  is   il;n:  frll  "It  1:  ":  :  :  :lr  .::  :  t 

i:*ri~rl.  mi  7m  _:  ::   '.-tITtI  r:   ;::  "ml..  ::,      1  :'::  mi 


THE  LECTURE  A  SUCCESS.  285 

better  take  your  place  in  the  lecturer's  desk  and  com- 
mence." 

I  went,  and  as  I  walked  to  the  place  they  took  it  for 
granted  that  I  was  the  speaker  of  the  evening,  and  that  I 
was  the  man  who  was  to  address  them.  There  was  a  lit- 
tle welcome  in  the  way  of  applause,  and  I  began  reading 
my  discourse,  which  took  over  half  an  hour,  and  when  it 
was  over  I  felt  that  I  had  done  my  duty  to  the  profes- 
sion in  laying  my  views  before  them,  and  I  then  sat 
down.  There  had  been  no  preliminary  organization ; 
nothing  cut  and  dried  beforehand  ;  no  consultation  with 
any  one.  After  I  took  my  seat  the  audience  sat  still,  and 
everybody  waited  for  everybody  else.  And  then  I  felt 
a  change  come  over  my  feelings.  I  had  gone  to  that 
lecture-room  full  of  vindictiveness  toward  the  medical 
profession.  I  now  saw  that  the  most  of  the  profession 
were  interested  in  what  I  had  to  say,  and  that  a  few  indi- 
viduals did  not  represent  its  public  opinion.  A  long 
interval  of  suspense  ensued,  and  nobody  moved.  At  last 
Dr.  Griscom  arose  and  said : 

"  I  have  waited  for  somebody  to  take  the  initiative  in 
this  matter ;  but  as  there  seems  to  be  no  previous  under- 
standing, or  the  usual  stereotyped  resolutions  and  movers, 
I  would  begin  the  organization  of  this  meeting  by  calling 
Dr.  Edward  Delafield  to  the  chair."  Dr.  Beedle  was 
requested  to  act  as  secretary. 

Dr.  Griscom  went  on  to  approve  everything  I  had 
said.  He  said  he  was  glad  to  indorse  everything  "  which 
had  been  so  well  said  by  the  speaker,  and  the  time  had 


2S6  THE   STORY  "OF  MY  LIFE. 

certainly  arrived  for  initiating  a  movement  such  as  I  had 
proposed."  He  spoke  in  this  laudatory  strain  for  about 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  He  showed  plainly  what  was 
the  duty  of  the  profession  under  the  circumstances,  and 
then  closed  by  moving  that  the  chairman  be  empowered 
to  appoint  a  committee  of  ten,  five  medical  men  and  five 
laymen,  to  carry  out  the  plan  that  had  been  laid  before 
them  for  the  establishment  of  a  hospital  for  women. 
Dr.  Gardiner  seconded  the  motion  ;  he  made  a  hand- 
some speech ;  and  there  were  some  other  speakers,  and 
the  motion  was  finally  adopted.  The  resolution  said 
that  I  must  be  one  of  the  committee  of  five  from  the 
medical  profession.  The  meeting  adjourned,  with  a 
vote  of  thanks  to  the  speaker  of  the  evening.  I  went 
home  happier  than  I  was  when  I  went  to  the  meeting, 
and  with  my  feelings  entirely  changed  toward  the  medi- 
cal profession  ;  for  I  must  frankly  say  that  I  was  blam- 
ing the  whole  profession  for  the  coldness  and  position 
of  a  few  members  of  it. 

The  next  day  Dr.  Delafield  sent  me  a  little  note,  re- 
questing my  presence  at  his  house.  He  said  he  was  very 
happy  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  chairman  of  the 
committee  to  organize  the  board  of  councilors,  medical 
and  laymen ;  and  he  said  that,  as  a  matter  of  course,  I 
would  be  on  that  committee,  because  I  was  the  mover  of 
the  whole  thing,  and  then  he  suggested  the  names  of 
three  others  as  being  suitable  for  a  working  committee. 

I  said  immediately,  "  Doctor,  these  are  good  names, 
and  good  men ;  but  they  do  not  represent  the  profession. 


SELECTING  A  COMMITTEE.  287 

I  think  that  you  ought  to  appoint  men  on  the  committee 
who  represent  the  whole  profession,  because  the  profes- 
sion were  there  en  masse,  and  indorsed  this  movement  and 
went  away.  The  only  way  that  I  can  see  that  you  can 
do  this  properly  is,  to  represent  the  three  medical  insti- 
tutions of  the  city  and  the  three  medical  colleges — Dr. 
Stevens,  as  president  of  the  College  of  Physicians  and 
Surgeons ;  Dr.  Green,  as  president  of  the  New  York 
Medical  College ;  Dr.  Mott,  of  the  New  York  Univer- 
sity; and  Dr.  French  would  represent  the  obstetrical 
branch  of  the  profession.  These  are  all  men  at  the  head 
of  the  medical  profession  in  the  city,  and  of  public  insti- 
tutions, and  I  think  that  the  medical  profession  would 
be  satisfied  with  their  appointment." 

He  said,  "Doctor,  your  views  are  all  correct,  theo- 
retically ;  but  for  practical  working  mine  is  the  best.  I 
do  not  think  that  you  can  get  Dr.  Green  and  Dr.  Stevens 
to  work  together  in  the  same  organization.  There  has 
always  been  an  antagonism  in  the  medical  profession  to 
the  New  York  Medical  College." 

I  replied,  "  Will  you  allow  me  to  see  Dr.  Stevens  ?  " 
And  he  answered  at  once,  "  By  all  means,  see  him." 

I  then  said,  "  It  is  very  likely  that  under  other  cir- 
cumstances Dr.  Stevens  would  not  consent ;  but  I,  as  an 
outsider,  and  in  an  independent  movement  here,  after 
representing  the  facts,  may  be  able  to  amalgamate  these 
elements,  which,  perhaps,  others  could  not  accomplish. 

Dr.  Delafield  did  not  like  this  very  much,  but  he 
was  obliged  to  agree  with  me,  and  to  my  making  the 


288  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

attempt  to  harness  these  two  men  together  in  the  same 
movement.  So  I  was  not  long  in  finding  Dr.  Stevens, 
when  I  thanked  him  for  his  suggestion  and  the  idea  he 
had  given  of  lecturing  before  the  profession.  I  also  told 
him  of  what  had  occurred,  and  what  we  wanted  him  to 
do.  He  said  that  he  would  be  happy  to  co-operate  with 
us,  and  that  he  had  not  the  least  objection  in  the  world 
to  taking  a  place  on  the  board  or  committee  with  Dr. 
Green  or  anybody  else  they  would  select. 

The  next  day  I  called  on  Dr.  Delafield  and  told  him 
that  these  gentlemen  had  all  agreed  to  work  together 
harmoniously  in  organizing  the  hospital  movement.  Dr. 
Delafield  was  not  very  well  pleased  with  it ;  but,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  he  had  to  accept.  And  then  it  was 
that  the  truth  of  what  Mr.  Stuart  said  one  evening,  when 
every  thing  looked  dark  around  us,  came  to  me,  that  I 
was  no  longer  a  beggar,  but  a  dictator.  Hot  weather 
came  on  by  this  time,  and  nothing  could  be  done  dur- 
ing the  summer.  In  the  autumn  I  became  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Peter  Cooper,  and  in  him  I  found  a  strong 
friend  and  adviser.  I  also  became  acquainted  with  Mr. 
E.  C.  Benedict.  Both  these  men  lent  their  great  ener- 
gies to  the  enterprise,  and  their  names  were  reported 
to  Dr.  Delafield  as  two  of  the  committee  of  ^ve  laymen 
that  were  to  be  selected.  Dr.  Delafield  had  lost  inter- 
est in  the  institution  when  he  could  not  control  it,  and 
put  his  own  "tools"  in  the  place  to  run  it. 

"When  the  autumn  came,  my  friend  Mr.  Stuart  said, 
"  Now  you  have  done  with  the  doctors  all  that  you  can 


MRS.  WILLIAM  E.  DODGE.  289 

hope  to  do.  You  have  had  their  public  indorsement, 
and  they  can  not  take  that  back.  You  must  do  the- work 
yourself,  in  your  own  way,  without  any  regard  to  any- 
body else.  Now,  the  way  for  you  to  do  is  for  you  to  start 
out ;  tell  your  same  story  that  you  have  told  to  every- 
body, to  some  of  the  leading  women  of  the  city,  and 
ask  them  to  do  the  work.  You  have  nothing  to  hope 
from  the  doctors,  or  from  the  profession,  or  from  any- 
body, but  by  appeal  to  the  heads  and  the  hearts  of  intel- 
ligent women." 

The  first  woman  that  I  attempted  to  reach  was  Mrs. 
"William  E.  Dodge.  I  had  got  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Elisha  Peck,  living  in  Fourteenth  Street,  a  very  intelli- 
gent lady,  and  she  knew  Mrs.  Dodge.  I  begged  her  to 
see  her  for  me,  and  interest  her  in  the  organization  of  a 
board  of  lady  managers  for  the  hospital.  She  went  to 
see  her,  and  had  a  long  talk  with  her.  Mrs.  Dodge  said 
that  she  had  so  many  irons  in  the  fire  already  that  she 
did  not  see  her  way  clear  to  do  anything  with  any 
new  enterprise,  and  she  had  to  decline.  When  Mrs. 
Peck  came  back  I  said  to  her,  "  Mrs.  Peck,  for  six 
weeks  I  have  been  trying  to  get  somebody  to  act  as  a 
nucleus  around  which  we  could  gather  the  other  women 
to  form  a  board  of  lady  managers  for  this  hospital.  I 
have  utterly  failed.  Why  will  you  not  agree  to  be  the 
first  woman  to  inaugurate  the  movement,  and  to  stand 
by  it  ?     You  fully  understand  and  know  all  about  it." 

She  said,  "  I  would  gladly  do  it ;  but  I  haven't  the 
influence  in  the  community  that  you  want." 

13 


_  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  said,  a  It  is  certainly  something  to  have  one  honest, 
true  woman  of  good  sense,  to  whom  we  can  point,  will- 
ing to  indorse  and  work  for  the  hospital."  And  Mrs. 
Elisha  Peck,  now  Mrs.  Apperthay,  and  now  the  presi- 
dent of  the  board  of  lady  supervisors,  was  the  first  who 
agreed  to  stand  by  me. 

Through  her  I  reached  others,  and  eventually  I  had 
got  ;.~;  mi  i  dozen  women  who  would  co-operate  in  form- 
ing a  board  of  lady  managers.  I  wanted  very  much  to 
see  Mrs.  Doremus.  I  had  heard  of  her  philanthropy,  of 
her  energy,  and  of  her  extraordinary  efforts  in  charitable 
works,  but  I  was  told  that  her  health  was  delicate,  that 
she  was  feeble,  and  that  she  would  therefore  not  be  able 
to  give  me  the  time  that  was  necessary.  The  Home  for 
the  Friendless  had  been  orsranized  and  managed  and  run 
-  "Irs.  "William  E.  Dodge,  Mrs.  Stone,  with  Mrs.  Peck 
as  first  directress.  I  went  to  see  Mrs.  Dodge,  knowing 
her  executive  ability,  and  had  a  long  talk  with  her. 
She  was  a  great  invalid,  confined  to  her  house  most  of 
the  time,  and  she  had  gout  worse  than  any  woman  that  I 
ever  saw  in  my  life — occasionally  I  had  seen  a  man  that 
had  it  as  badly  as  she — and  altogether,  physically,  she 
had  more  than  her  hands  full  to  do.  But  she  weighed 
this  matter  well.  She  looked  over  the  list  of  a  dozen  or 
so  of  names  that  I  had,  and  she  said  : 

a  Your  work  is  a  grand  and  noble  one,  and  it  is 
obliged  to  succeed:  because  such  an  institution  as  you 
propose  is  needed  to-day,  and  it  must  be  built.  How  I 
do  wish  that   my  own  health  were  such  that  I  could 


MRS.  DOREMUS.  291 

throw  all  my  energies  into  it,  and  organize  and  initiate 
the  movement  for  you.  But  that  can  not  be.  My  ad- 
vice to  you  is  to  go  straight  to  Mrs.  Doremus.  Those 
names  are  good  enough  in  their  own  way ;  but,  with  the 
exception  of  three  or  four,  you  had  better  not  have  had 
them.  They  are  a  dead  weight ;  for  they  have  no  social 
status,  no  fortune,  and  they  have  nothing  that  will  help 
you  in  your  organization.  Pick  out  three  names  from 
this  list,  and  it  is  all  the  twelve  are  worth.  Now,  my 
advice  to  you  is,  to  go  with  this  list  to  Mrs.  Doremus, 
and  see  what  she  can  do  for  you.  Lay  the  whole  sub- 
ject open  to  her  precisely  as  you  have  to  me,  and  I  am 
sure  that  she  will  grasp  it,  and  organize  the  work  for  you 
immediately." 

I  saw  Dr.  Doremus,  and  asked  him  when  I  could  go 
and  see  his  mother.  He  replied  that  she  was  at  her 
home  every  evening  for  tea,  "  and  you  can  go  at  any 
time  after  eight  o'clock.  If  you  want  to  see  her  this 
evening  I  will  tell  her  that  you  are  coming." 

I  said,  "  Yery  well ;  please  prepare  the  way  for  me. 
Tell  her  that  I  am  coming  to  talk  about  my  hospital 
movement."  I  went  promptly  at  eight  o'clock,  and 
went  very  timidly.  She  received  me  very  kindly ;  Dr. 
Doremus  was  sitting  with  her  in  the  back  parlor,  and  she 
allowed  me  to  tell  my  story,  which  was  not  a  very  short 
one.  I  told  it  in  all  its  details,  and  the  moment  I  had 
finished  she  said,  "  These  names  that  you  have  you  must 
retain,  because  you  have  got  them.  Some  of  them  are 
valuable ;   but  the  majority  are  not  worth  anything  at 


lvi:  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 


.  -   .v:. 


all,  and  are  a  dead  weight ;  but  the  way  to  organi 
hospital  is  to  put  it  on  a  higher  stratum  in  society. 
Mrs.  David  Codwise  must  be  first  directress  of  the  in- 
stitution; Mis.  William  B.  Astor,  second  directress; 
Mrs.  Ogden  Hoffman,  third ;  Mrs.  Webster  must  be  the 
s-r :rf-:.irr  :  2^r~.  -Ji :•:'::  Lr?k;~.  rreiiirer." 

^But,"  I  said,  "Pray  tell  me  what  must  Mrs.  Do- 
remus  be?  Ton  seem  to  be  a  regular  Warwick,  ap- 
piizri^   kii^i    11  i   le.iifrs..    izf    irr::::   :z    :Le   bn-k- 

She  said,  aI  will  be  your  chief  marshal  or  chief 
counselor.  I  will  write  a  note  to  Mrs.  Codwise,  and 
ask  her  when  yon  can  come  to  see  her.  She  has  for 
forty  years  been  a  leader  in  the  aristocracy  of  the  town, 
and  a  woman  of  great  influence  and  intelligence.'' 

The  next  day  I  received  a  note  from  Mrs.  Doremus 
saying  that  Mrs.  David  Codwise  would  be  glad  to  see  me 
that  evening  at  eight  o'clock.  This  was  on  the  5th  of 
7  rbruary,  1855.  I  shall  never  forget  with  what  intense 
anxiety  I  mounted  the  steps  to  her  residence  in  Twenty- 
seventh  Street.  I  felt  then  that  everything  depended 
on  that  evening's  visit.  Mrs.  Codwise  was  a  woman  evi- 
dently about  sixty  years  of  age,  and  one  of  the  most 
charming  and  fascinating  women  that  I  ever  met  in  all 
my  life.  She  was  very  bright  and  very  intelligent,  very 
kind-hearted,  generous,  and  sympathetic  She  saw  that 
I  was  excited,  and  nervous,  and  anxious.  I  began  to  tell 
her  my  story  about  the  sufferings  of  women,  and  what 
I  had  done  for  their  relief ;  about  my  coming  to  New 


BOARD  OF  LADY  MANAGERS   ORGANIZED.      293 

York,  and  the  treatment  I  had  received  at  the  hands  of 
the  doctors,  or  some  of  them;  when,  all  at  once,  she 
stopped  me  before  I  had  finished  my  story,  and  she  said : 

"  Let  me  say  one  word  to  you,  and  it  is  this :  I  am 
already  convinced  of  the  importance  of  the  subject  that 
you  are  laying  before  me,  and  I  wish  to  say  to  you  now, 
that  I  will  give  you  all  the  influence  that  I  can  possibly 
exert  in  this  community  to  carry  forward  your  views  to 
the  fullest  extent.  Anticipating  you  in  this  regard,  now 
I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  the  rest  of  your  story." 

Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Mrs.  Codwise  entered  into  the 
plan  with  heart  and  soul,  and  gave  the  matter  all  the 
thought  and  time  that  were  necessary  to  organize  the 
board  of  lady  managers,  and  to  put  the  work  in  good 
running  order.  This  was  on  the  5th  of  February  (1855), 
and  a  meeting  of  the  ladies  was  called  at  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Codwise  on  Saturday,  the  10th  of  February  (1855). 
I  was  requested  to  be  present,  to  answer  such  questions 
as  might  be  put  to  me.  It  was  more  for  the  purpose  of 
introducing  me  personally,  however,  than  to  answer  any 
questions.  I  was  called  on  to  answer  a  few  questions, 
and  to  make  a  statement  on  the  subject,  which  I  did  as 
briefly  as  possible ;  leaving  it  to  those  whom  I  had  in- 
doctrinated fully  in  its  importance  to  make  such  state- 
ments and  further  explanations  as  they  might  see  fit. 
The  board  of  lady  managers  was  organized  precisely  as 
Mrs.  Doremus  had  said  that  it  should  be,  and  they  at 
once  appointed  a  committee  to  rent  a  building,  and  open 
a  hospital  as  soon  as  possible. 


294  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Soon  after  this  meeting,  when  the  hospital  was  or- 
ganized, at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Codwise,  on  this  10th  day 
of  February,  1855,  notices  of  it  of  course  appeared  in 
the  newspapers.  Two  or  three  days  after  that  date,  Dr. 
John  Watson  called  on  Mrs.  Doremus,  and  Dr.  Gurdon 
Buck  called  on  Mrs.  Codwise.  Each  of  the  ladies  was  to 
be  presented  with  arguments  to  show  that  there  was  no 
necessity  for  the  hospital ;  that  they  had  made  a  great 
mistake ;  that  they  had  been  deceived ;  that  the  hospital 
would  be  an  expensive  luxury,  and  a  very  costly  affair, 
as  well  as  a  short-lived  one.  That  the  few  cases  of 
vesico-vaginal  fistula  which  occurred  could  be  amply 
provided  for  in  the  New  York  Hospital,  and  that  the 
surgeons  of  the  New  York  Hospital  were  as  competent 
to  treat  this  class  of  cases  as  was  the  man  that  was  then 
attempting  to  found  the  new  "Woman's  Hospital.  The 
visit  to  Mrs.  Doremus  was  a  very  violent  one  on  the  part 
of  Dr.  Watson.  He  was  not  at  all  politic ;  as  a  man,  he 
was  very  dogmatic,  very  impatient  of  opposition,  and  the 
impression  made  on  Mrs.  Doremus  was  very  unfavorable. 
So  he  left  her,  and  she  was  more  determined  than  ever 
to  persevere  with  the  good  work  that  she  had  under- 
taken, if  it  were  possible  for  it  to  succeed. 

Dr.  Gurdon  Buck  was  a  more  moderate  man,  more 
politic,  and  had  been  not  exactly  the  family  physician 
to  Mrs.  Codwise,  but  on  one  occasion,  when  Mr.  Codwise 
had  had  a  carbuncle,  or  some  other  serious  illness,  had 
been  called  in  consultation  with  Dr.  Mott,  as  an  opera- 
tion was  necessary  to  be  performed.     Thus  the  family 


OPPOSITION  UNSUCCESSFUL.  295 

had  had  an  opportunity  of  knowing  him  personally  very 
well,  and  they  felt  very  grateful  to  him  for  the  kind 
professional  services  he  had  rendered  on  a  former  occa- 
sion. His  visit  to  Mrs.  Codwise  was  longer  than  usual. 
He  went  on  to  praise  the  cause  of  the  New  York  Hos- 
pital very  extensively,  and  told  her  of  the  successful 
operations  they  were  performing ;  but  forgot  to  tell  her 
that  he  owed  the  whole  of  it  to  me.  This  was  a  little 
oversight  that  I  had  before  supplied  on  the  occasion  of 
one  of  my  visits,  and  she  understood  the  whole  bearing 
of  the  question.  She  was  a  woman  of  the  world,  with 
large  views  on  every  subject,  and  was  too  polite  to  give 
offense  to  her  visitor ;  but  she  had  the  firmness  to  tell 
him  that,  as  first  directress  of  the  institution,  she  should 
give  it  the  whole  force  of  her  influence. 

The  "Woman's  Hospital  from  the  day  it  was  opened 
had  no  friends  among  the  leaders — among  hospital  men. 
I  was  called  a  quack  and  a  humbug,  and  the  hospital 
pronounced  a  fraud.  Still  it  went  on  with  its  work. 
Its  wards  were  open  to  any  doctor  that  cared  to  come, 
and  the  operations  performed  there  were  seen  by  most 
of  the  leading  medical  men  in  the  city,  and  many  others 
from  different  parts  of  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XYIII. 

Recurrence  of  my  old  sickness — My  assistant  at  the  hospital — Charter  of 
the  Woman's  Hospital,  and  obstacles  overcome  in  procuring  a  site  for 
a  new  structure. 

During  the  winter  my  health  was  tolerably  good; 
but  it  was  only  by  extraordinary  care  that  it  was  kept  so. 
I  had  to  be  very  particular  in  my  diet.  I  could  eat  no 
salt  food,  and  even  butter  had  to  be  deprived  of  its  salt. 
I  could  eat  no  condiments,  not  a  particle  of  pepper  nor 
any  vinegar;  no  fruits,  and  not  a  bit  of  sweetmeats. 
The  least  variation  from  this  rigid  diet  would  reproduce 
the  diarrhoea.  For  six  or  eight  months  previous  to  this 
I  had  been  in  feeble  health,  and  the  sudden  arresting  of 
the  diarrhoea  produced  dropsy  of  the  lower  extremities. 
In  walking  on  the  street,  if  I  ever  stumbled  once,  I 
would  fall  flat  to  the  ground,  with  no  power  to  rise.  I 
well  remember  one  day  that  I  had  gone  down  to  Hart- 
well  &  Shepard's,  in  Maiden  Lane,  to  make  some  pur- 
chases. In  walking  up  Maiden  Lane  to  Broadway  I  had 
a  small  parcel  in  my  hand,  or  rather  under  my  left  arm. 
Under  the  old  Howard  House,  which  stood  there  at  the 
time,  there  was  a  trunk  store,  opening  on  Maiden  Lane. 
The  merchant  had  a  habit  of  putting  his  wares  outside 


AN  ACCIDENT.  297 

the  door,  and  spreading  them  along  on  the  curb-stone. 
There  was  a  small  valise  on  the  curb-stone,  which  I 
did  not  see.  I  stumbled  over  it  and  fell  literally  into 
the  gutter,  with  my  face  to  the  curb-stone,  with  my 
weight  on  my  left  arm,  and  the  bundle  under  it.  I 
floundered  away,  trying  to  get  up,  but  I  could  not  help 
myself.  Presently  a  policeman  stepped  up  to  me  and 
took  me  by  the  right  hand  and  raised  me  up  very  gently, 
saying,  as  he  did  so,  "  I  am  surprised  to  see  a  man  of 
your  cloth  (for  I  looked  quite  clerical)  in  the  gutter  so 
early  in  the  day."  I  said,  "  I  thank  you,  my  dear  fel- 
low ;  but  I  am  as  sober  as  you  are.  I  am  a  very  sick 
man.  I  would  thank  you  to  help  me  into  that  Madison 
Avenue  stage."  He  did  so ;  but  he  was  quite  in  earnest 
in  his  first  supposition  that  I  was  drunk. 

I  have  said  that  I  went  to  see  Mrs.  Doremus  on  the 
fifth  of  February,  1855.  My  friend,  Dr.  Samuel  W. 
Francis,  had  just  lost  his  eldest  son,  of  typhoid  fever, 
while  he  was  interne  at  Bellevue  Hospital,  and  the  dear 
old  gentleman  was  nearly  heart-broken.  He  resigned 
his  membership  in  all  the  societies  and  all  the  public  in- 
stitutions to  which  he  belonged,  and  gave  himself  up, 
temporarily,  entirely  to  grief.  He  wished  even  to  quit 
the  medical  practice.  On  that  day,  a  gentleman  living 
at  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Twenty-ninth  Street, 
and  one  of  his  old  friends,  sent  for  him  to  see  his  child 
who  was  very  ill  with  the  croup.  Dr.  Francis  could 
not  go  out,  and  so  told  the  gentleman  to  call  me  to  his 
babe.     I  was  just  on  the  eve  of  starting  down  to  see 


298  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Mrs.  Doreinus,  and  made  a  hasty  visit  to  the  child  and 
prescribed  for  it.  I  was  twenty  minutes  behind  my  en- 
gagement. When  I  had  gone  from  Madison  Avenue  to 
Fifth,  along  Twenty-ninth  Street,  there  was  some  ice  on 
the  pavement.  In  returning  from  Fifth  Avenue  to  Mad- 
ison Avenue,  and  just  opposite  !No.  12,  where  the  street 
was  covered  with  snow  when  I  had  gone  by  there  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes  before,  the  servant  at  No.  12  had 
cleaned  off  the  snow,  and  had  left  a  coating  of  ice  on 
the  stones.  On  my  return  I  was  walking  very  rapid- 
ly, and  as  I  passed  from  the  snow  to  the  pavement  my 
heels  slipped  and  went  out  from  under  me,  and  I  fell 
sprawling  on  my  back,  with  such  violence  that  it  now 
seems  to  me  that  it  would  have  killed  me,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  rim  of  my  stiff  old-fashioned  stove-pipe  hat, 
which  broke  the  fall. 

The  shock  was  very  great.  I  was  stunned  for  a  mo- 
ment, so  that  I  did  not  know  where  I  was.  I  climbed 
up  on  the  steps  and  sat  there  a  few  minutes,  and  after 
a  while  I  was  seemingly  all  right  again.  I  went  home,  at 
89  Madison  Avenue,  which  was  just  around  the  corner, 
and  waited  there  till  I  thought  I  was  completely  re- 
covered, and  then  made  my  visit  to  Mrs.  Doremus,  which 
I  have  already  related.  But  a  few  days  after  this  blow 
the  diarrhoea  returned.  It  increased  in  spite  of  all  my 
remedies  and  dietetic  precautions. 

The  Woman's  Hospital  was  inaugurated  at  83  Madison 
Avenue,  on  the  first  of  May,  1855.  For  a  month  before 
I  had  been  in  bed  almost  all  the  time.     I  was  very  weak 


NEED  OF  AN  ASSISTANT.  299 

and  exhausted,  and  the  committee  appointed  to  locate 
the  rooms  for  the  hospital  chose  the  place  they  did  be- 
cause it  was  in  close  proximity  to  my  house,  with  a  view 
to  saving  me  as  much  exertion  as  possible.  At  the  in- 
auguration of  the  hospital  I  was  very  feeble,  but  still  I 
was  determined  to  do  the  work.  Yery  soon  I  com- 
menced performing  one  operation  a  day.  The  hospital 
was  full  from  the  day  that  it  was  opened.  We  had 
about  thirty  beds.  It  was  a  charity;  there  were  no 
"  pay-patients "  admitted.  One  clause  of  the  by-laws 
provided  that  the  assistant-surgeon  should  be  a  woman. 
I  appointed  Mrs.  Browne,  a  widowed  sister  of  my  friend 
Henri  L.  Stuart,  who  had  been  so  efficient  in  organizing 
the  hospital.  She  was  matron  and  general  superin- 
tendent. 

The  hospital  was  kept  open  all  summer,  and  I  did 
what  work  I  could ;  but  I  did  not  entirely  recover  from 
the  diarrhoea  until  the  autumn.  The  work  was  well  and 
efficiently  done,  notwithstanding  my  bad  health.  Pa- 
tients were  applying,  and  coming  from  a  distance,  in 
larger  numbers  than  could  be  accommodated.  The  hos- 
pital had  been  opened  about  six  months,  when  I  told  the 
board  of  lady  managers  that  I  must  have  an  assistant. 
They  were  glad  to  accommodate  me,  and  told  me  to 
select  the  man  that  I  wanted  to  assist  me.  When  I  first 
went  to  New  York,  Dr.  Frank  IT.  Johnson  was  the  lead- 
ing practitioner  of  the  city,  and,  next  to  Dr.  Francis, 
perhaps  one  of  my  best  friends.  He  had  a  son,  Dr.  F. 
U.  Johnson,  Jr.,  who  had  just  graduated.     I  offered  him 


300  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

the  appointment  of  assistant  -  surgeon  to  the  hospital. 
He  said  that  he  would  be  very  glad  to  accept  it,  but 
that  he  was  soon  to  be  married,  and  was  going  to  locate 
in  the  country  near  Cooperstown.  I  then  offered  the 
place  to  Dr.  George  F.  Shrady.  He,  too,  was  about  to 
be  married,  and  for  some  cause  or  other  he  did  not  see 
lit  to  accept  it. 

Soon  after  this,  a  young  friend  of  mine  at  the  South, 
whom  I  had  known  from  her  early  girlhood,  Miss  Kate 
Duncan,  was  married  to  Dr.  Thomas  Addis  Emmet,  of 
New  York.  As  I  was  looking  for  an  assistant,  I  did  not 
know  that  I  could  more  handsomely  recognize  the  friend- 
ship of  former  days  than  to  appoint  the  husband  of  Mrs. 
Emmet  as  my  assistant.  So,  to  the  accident  of  good 
fortune  in  marrying  a  beautiful  Southern  young  woman, 
Dr.  Emmet  owes  his  appointment  to  a  position  which  he 
has  long  and  honorably  filled  in  the  Woman's  Hospital. 
The  first  anniversary  of  the  Woman's  Hospital  was 

held   at   Clinton    Hall,   in   Astor    Place,   on   the  

day  of  January,  1856.  From  this  time  on  the  hospital 
flourished.  As  soon  as  the  hospital  was  opened,  the  no- 
tices of  the  work  done  there  brought  me  business  to  a 
great  amount,  and  very  soon  my  private  consultation 
rooms  were  filled.  Soon  after  the  hospital  was  organ- 
ized, on  the  10th  of  February,  notices  of  it  were  pub- 
lished in  the  newspapers,  and  the  public  began  to  know 
considerable  of  its  object- 
Twelve  months  had  rolled  around  when  the  board  of 
lady  managers  and  working  friends  of  the  institution 


A  CHARTER  FOR  THE  WOMAN'S  HOSPITAL.    301 

saw  that  it  had  been  inaugurated  at  a  most  opportune 
moment,  that  it  was  an  instrument  for  effecting  an 
immense  amount  of  good,  and  that  the  necessity  for  a 
larger  institution  was  of  prime  importance.  Then  it  was 
that  steps  were  taken  to  get  a  charter  from  the  State  for 
the  "  Woman's  Hospital  of  the  State  of  New  York." 
This  new  hospital  was  to  be  on  a  grand  scale ;  it  was  to 
be  under  a  board  of  governors,  composed  of  twenty-seven 
of  the  leading  men  of  the  city,  while  the.  board  of  lady 
managers  of  the  present  working  hospital  were  to  be 
transferred  to  the  new  organization,  when  complete,  as  a 
board  of  lady  supervisors,  having  the  general  control  of 
its  domestic  affairs. 

The  charter  of  the  Woman's  Hospital  was  obtained 
in  1857.  Hon.  James  Beekman  was  my  chief  adviser 
and  coadjutor.  I  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  at  Albany 
that  winter,  neglecting  my  private  business  very  much, 
and  leaving  Dr.  Emmet  in  charge  of  the  hospital,  and 
also  in  the  care  of  some  of  my  private  business.  I  had 
to  make  frequent  visits  to  Albany,  to  lobby  and  to  hire 
help  among  the  members  of  the  Legislature,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  my  affairs  at  home  were  very  much 
neglected.  I  recollect  returning  from  Albany,  and  Dr. 
Emmet  saying,  "  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  spending 
too  much  time  in  Albany.  A  larger  hospital  than  the 
one  we  have  is  hardly  necessary.  It  is  rather  a  heroic 
undertaking,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  to  be 
a  little  more  selfish ;  for  the  present  hospital  is  good 
enough  for  your  purpose." 


302  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Of  course  I  had  larger  views  than  this,  and  I  said 
that  I  did  not  establish  the  hospital  solely  for  money  and 
aggrandizement.  As  soon  as  I  saw  the  necessity  for  a 
greater  one,  with  a  larger  board  of  surgeons,  I  was  anx- 
ious to  establish  it.  The  hospital  was  unpopular,  be- 
cause it  was  a  one-man  power,  and  because  all  the  advan- 
tages that  accrued  were  to  the  surgeon  and  his  assistant. 

The  most  difficult  thing  I  achieved,  in  connection 
with  the  founding  of  the  Woman's  Hospital,  was  the  pro- 
curing of  the  land  on  which  the  building  to-day  stands. 
This  land  belonged  to  the  city,  being  the  old  Potter's 
Field  in  time  of  the  cholera  in  1832.  At  that  time  the 
city  could  not  alienate  any  of  its  domain  without  the 
consent  of  the  Legislature.  The  Legislature  had  to  pass 
an  act  authorizing  the  city  to  give  away  any  of  its  prop- 
erty when  it  chose  to  do  so.  First,  then,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  go  before  the  Board  of  Aldermen,  and  get  them 
to  pass  a  resolution  asking  the  Legislature  to  pass  an  act 
authorizing  the  city  to  make  the  asked-for  transfer.  This 
I  accomplished,  after  a  great  deal  of  hard  work  and  po- 
litical wire-pulling ;  Dr.  Mott,  Dr.  Francis,  and  even  the 
dear  old  lady,  Mrs.  Doremus,  besides  Mr.  Beekman, 
appearing  before  the  Board  of  Aldermen,  to  testify  as  to 
the  workings  of  the  hospital,  and  as  to  the  needs  of  a 
larger  institution. 

Mr.  Beekman  and  myself,  as  soon  as  the  ordinance 
was  passed,  went  to  the  Legislature,  and  had  that  body 
pass  the  necessary  act  authorizing  the  city  to  give  away 
the  land  to  us.     Then,  with  this  authority,  we  came  back 


OBTAINING  A  GRANT  OF  LAND.  303 

to  the  city  fathers,  and  they  passed  the  ordinance  deed- 
ing the  land  to  us,  which  only  awaited  the  signature  of 
the  mayor.  It  was  passed  on  the  very  last  day  of  the 
season,  and  the  last  day  of  the  year  (1856).  It  was  the 
year  in  which  Mayor  Wood  went  out  of  office  as  mayor. 
He  was  busy  that  night,  signing  documents  that  were 
necessary  to  have  his  official  signature  before  his  term 
expired;  and  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment  the  act  giv- 
ing the  land  to  the  Woman's  Hospital  failed  to  receive 
his  official  signature — not  because  he  was  opposed  to  it, 
for  he  was  in  favor  of  it,  warmly  in  favor  of  it,  but  be- 
cause, in  the  hurry  of  the  hour,  his  secretary  forgot  to 
bring  it  to  his  notice.  The  work  had  thus  to  be  done  all 
over  again. 

A  new  Common  Council  came  into  power,  and  we  had 
to  get  this  new  board  to  pass  another  ordinance,  asking 
the  Legislature  to  give  the  grant  again.  We  had  to  go 
before  the  Legislature  for  a  new  act,  which  was  passed 
after  the  same  lobbying,  and  this  was  brought  back  to 
the  city  authorities,  who  then  agreed  to  give  us  the  title 
to  the  land.  But  Tiemann  was  now  the  mayor.  Person- 
ally he  was  in  favor  of  the  Woman's  Hospital ;  but  on 
economic  grounds  was  opposed  to  it,  and  hence  vetoed 
the  bill.  I  knew  very  well  that  I  had  influence  enough 
in  the  Common  Council  to  have  the  bill  passed  over  his 
veto.  He  saw  that  I  was  about  to  do  so,  and  he  sent 
for  me  for  a  consultation  in  reference  to  it.     He  said : 

"  I  want  to  have  this  land  given  to  you ;  I  believe  in 
the  Woman's  Hospital,  and  I  wrould  like  to  see  it  firmly 


304  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

established  on  a  grand  scale.  But  there  are  so  many 
people  asking  land  from  the  city  for  various  purposes, 
there -is  such  a  disposition  to  'grab'  and  steal,  that,  on 
principle,  I  am  obliged  to  oppose  you  in  order  to  keep 
the  others  away.  Now,  if  you  will  agree  to  give  us  fifty 
beds,  forever,  for  the  use  of  the  city  poor,  I  will  agree 
that  you  shall  have  the  property." 

Of  course,  I  acceded  to  it,  telling  him  that  if  I  were 
not  able  to  give  him  fifty  beds  for  the  use  of  the  city 
after  the  hospital  was  well  established,  it  would  be 
hardly  worth  the  time  I  had  bestowed  upon  it.  Thus 
we  got  the  title  to  the  land  on  which  the  hospital  was 
erected. 

Full  titles  were  obtained  for  the  land  in  April,  1S58. 
It  was  situated  between  Forty-ninth  and  Fiftieth  Streets, 
and  Lexington  and  Fourth  Avenues,  comprising  a  whole 
block.  As  before  stated,  it  was  the  old  Potter's  Field 
during  the  time  of  the  cholera  in  1832.  The  west  half 
was  full  of  dead  bodies,  which  had  been  buried  in  tiers 
of  coffins  eighteen  deep.  The  president  of  the  Board  of 
Governors,  Hon.  James  W.  Beekman,  got  possession  of 
the  property,  and  obtained  permission  to  remove  the  bod- 
ies. It  took  nearly  all  summer  to  accomplish  it.  Twenty- 
seven  thousand  bodies  were  removed  from  this  piece  of 
ground,  less  than  two  hundred  feet  square.  They  were 
neatly  replaced  in  new  wooden  boxes,  and  then  reburied 
on  Ward's  Island.  It  had  been  twenty-five  years  since 
they  were  buried.  There  was  nothing  offensive  in  the 
exhumation,  and  no  sickness  occurred  among  the  men 


PLANS  FOR  THE  NEW  BUILDING.  305 

that  were  employed  to  do  the  work  of  removal  and  dis- 
interment. There  was  no  necessity  for  disturbing  the 
eastern  half  of  the  lot,  where  there  were  a  few  isolated 
graves  only,  the  reason  for  this  being  that  the  solid 
rock  came  very  near  the  surface  at  this  portion  of  the 
block. 

When  the  charter  was  obtained  for  the  Woman's 
Hospital  the  Board  of  Governors  had  a  meeting,  selected 
an  architect,  and  adopted  a  plan  of  the  building.  Mr. 
John  W.  Rich  was  selected  as  the  architect,  at  the  earnest 
solicitation  of  Mr.  Robert  B.  Minturn.  A  goodly  num- 
ber of  the  Board  of  Governors  were  not  satisfied  with 
Mr.  Rich ;  but  still  his  nomination  and  election  were 
pressed  so  strongly  by  Mr.  Minturn  that  he  was  finally 
appointed.  He  drew  the  plans  of  the  hospital,  modeling 
it  somewhat  after  St.  Luke's.  I  was  opposed  to  the  plan 
and  wanted  them  to  adopt  the  pavilion  system ;  but  no 
decided  change  in  the  plans  was  made.  In  1861,  I  went 
abroad  for  the  first  time.  I  should  remark  that  after 
the  autumn  of  1855  I  had  no  attack  of  diarrhoea,  which 
had  followed  me  from  1849  to  1855 — just  six  years.  I 
had  recovered  speedily  from  the  attack  that  was  brought 
on  by  the  fall  in  the  previous  February,  to  which  I  have 
referred.  After  that  time  my  health  was  reasonably 
good,  and  I  had  no  return  of  the  serious  illness  that  for 
six  years  had  stuck  to  me,  off  and  on. 

It  was  in  June  (1861)  that  I  went  abroad,  because  I 
needed  a  little  holiday.  I  had  worked  very  hard  and 
was  tired  out ;  but  I  went  more  particularly  to  investi- 


306  THE   STORY   OF  MY   LITE. 

gate  the  hospital  treatment  in  the  Old  World.  The  re- 
sults of  my  investigation  went  to  show  the  superiority 
of  the  pavilion  system  over  the  block  system.  When  I 
returned  home  Mr.  Rich  was  dead,  and  Mr.  Harrison 
had  been  selected  to  take  his  place  as  architect  of  the 
hospital.  He  and  I  were  in  perfect  accord  as  to  the 
plans  which  he  drew,  which  I  submitted  to  the  Board  of 
Governors,  and  they  were  adopted. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

My  reception  in  Dublin— Visit  Dr.  Simpson  at  Edinburgh— Go  to  Paris- 
Perform  operations  at  the  Paris  hospitals,  and  furore  in  consequence 
— Successful  operations  in  Brussels— An  extreme  case  of  vesico-vaginal 
fistula  successfully  treated— A  patient  from  the  south  of  France  oper- 
ated upon— Startling  result  from  use  of  chloroform,  and  method  of 
resuscitation. 

The  first  point  I  touched  when  I  went  abroad  was 
Queenstown.  I  landed  there  on  the  31st  of  August 
(1861),  and  went  at  once  to  Dublin.  There  a  hearty 
welcome  awaited  me  from  my  Irish  brethren.  I  re- 
mained about  ten  days  in  Dublin,  and  was  dined  and 
feted  to  satiety.  Dr.  McClintock  was  then  Master  of 
the  Edinburgh  Kotunda  Hospital.  He  received  me  kind- 
ly, and  introduced  me  to  the  leading  members  of  the 
profession.  I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  see  many 
cases  in  the  Rotunda  Hospital.  None  welcomed  me  more 
warmly  in  behalf  of  my  work  than  the  chief  of  obstet- 
rics in  all  Ireland,  Dr.  Fleetwood  Churchill.  All  were 
anxious  to  see  me  perform  my  operations  for  vesico- 
vaginal fistula ;  and  after  a  while  a  case  was  found,  on 
which  I  operated  with  satisfaction  to  all  present.  I  was 
in  Dublin  about  ten  days  ;  and  every  night  I  had  to  dine 
with  some  of  the  leading  men   of   the   day.     Once,  I 


308  THE  STOEY  OE  MY  LIFE. 

was  invited  to  a  great  dinner  given  by  Dr.  Stokes  to 
about  twenty  guests.  Among  the  company  was  the 
great  Irish  lawyer  and  member  of  Parliament,  Mr.  Butt. 
He  was  one  of  the  wittiest  men  I  ever  heard  talk  in  all 
my  life.  He  kept  the  table  in  a  roar  of  laughter  all  the 
time,  and  I  wondered  how  a  man  could  have  such  an  in- 
exhaustible fund  of  anecdote  as  he  had,  which  he  told  as 
I  know  that  no  other  man  could  have  done.  They  were 
a  party  of  great  eaters  and  great  drinkers,  and  they  were 
very  much  surprised  that  I  ate  so  little  and  drank  noth- 
ing at  all.  They  wanted  to  know  if  I  were  a  typical 
American,  and  representative  of  my  country.  I  told 
them  that  I  was  an  anomaly — a  sui  generis  /  it  was  my 
idiosyncrasy,  and  that  I  could  as  well  have  been  an  Irish- 
man as  an  American,  and  that  I  deserved  no  credit  for 
my  peculiarities  and  temperate  methods  of  living. 

In  coming  to  Europe,  the  man  that  I  most  wanted  to 
see  was  Professor  Simpson,  of  Edinburgh.  His  labors 
and  contributions  to  the  literature  of  the  dav  were  the 

t/ 

most  valuable  that  had  been  made  to  the  growing  science 
of  gynaecology.  So,  in  leaving  Dublin,  I  went  by  way 
of  Belfast  to  Edinburgh,  where  I  was  warmly  welcomed 
by  Simpson,  Syme,  Chrisleston,  and  Matthews  Duncan. 
Matthews  Duncan  was  a  pupil  of  Simpson,  a  young  man 
just  married  and  laying  for  himself  the  foundation  upon 
which  he  has  subsequently  built  such  a  magnificent  pro- 
fessional career.  I  had  performed  many  of  Simpson's 
operations;  I  was  the  first  to  operate  according  to  his 
method  for  dysmenorrhea.      He  had    represented   the 


DR.  SYME.  309 

operation  as  being  attended  with  no  danger.  I  bad  bad 
serious  haemorrhages  follow  it — two  of  an  alarming  char- 
acter— and  I  thought  that  possibly  I  did  not  perform  the 
operation  precisely  as  he  did.  So  I  was  anxious  to  see 
as  much  of  his  practice  as  I  could,  and  particularly  one 
of  his  operations  on  the  cervix  uteri.  Fortunately,  he 
had  a  fitting  subject  for  the  operation  in  a  young  mar- 
ried woman,  about  thirty  years  old,  who  had  come  from 
India  expressly  to  consult  him.  I  saw  that  .he  performed 
the  operation  in  theory  only,  but  making  a  more  pro- 
found sensation  than  I  had  ever  done.  Yet  he  insisted 
that  he  had  never  had  a  case  of  accident  after  this  opera- 
tion. 

Chrisleston  was  then  no  longer  a  young  man,  but 
of  wonderful  endurance  physically.  I  shall  never  for- 
get his  walking  me  to  the  top  of  Arthur's  Seat  and 
down  again.  I  was  awfully  fatigued,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  mind  it  in  the  least.  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  Dr. 
Syme,  and  saw  him  operate  repeatedly.  I  have  seen, 
all  over  the  world,  great  surgeons  operate,  in  my  own 
country,  in  London,  and  in  Paris ;  but  I  have  never  seen 
such  an  operator  as  Dr.  Syme.  He  was  a  man  of  re- 
markable diagnostic  powers,  infallible  judgment,  and 
was  wonderfully  rapid  and  precise  in  execution.  All 
this  was  necessary  before  the  introduction  of  anaesthetics. 
With  the  introduction  of  anaesthetics  the  rapid,  brilliant 
operator  has  disappeared.  Syme  was  rather  reticent; 
but,  somehow,  he  took  a  wonderful  fancy  to  me.  I  was 
with  him  at  his  country-place  frequently,  dining  with  his 


310  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

family  without  ceremony.  When  I  was  about  to  take 
my  leave  for  Aberdeen,  I  timidly,  one  day,  while  sitting 
in  his  office,  asked  Dr.  Syme  if  he  would  have  the  kind- 
ness to  give  me  a  card  of  introduction  to  Professor  Keith, 
of  that  city.  He  surprised  me  very  much  by  saying,  "  I 
shall  do  no  such  thing."  He  looked  up,  to  see  how  I 
would  take  it,  for  I  was  really  surprised,  and  immediately 
finished  his  sentence  by  saying,  "  For  a  man  that  would 
not  receive  Marion  Sims  on  the  presentation  of  his  own 
card  would  not  receive  him  on  the  presentation  of 
mine."  However,  he  gave  me  the  card  of  introduction 
smilingly. 

"When  I  got  to  Aberdeen,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that 
Simpson  was  not  the  god  in  his  own  country  that  he 
was  abroad.  When  I  told  them  of  my  accidents  fol- 
lowing his  operation  on  the  cervix  uteri,  and  that  he  had 
none  of  the  sort,  they  laughed  at  my  credulity.  They 
gave  me  the  name  of  a  doctor  living  not  ten  miles 
distant  from  that  city,  whose  wife  had  been  operated  on 
by  Dr.  Simpson,  and  she  died  within  forty-eight  hours 
afterward.  Of  course,  this  surprised  me  exceedingly, 
and  when  I  returned  to  Edinburgh  I  spoke  to  one  of  the 
eminent  surgeons  of  the  town,  who  was  a  friend  of  Dr. 
Simpson's,  and  not  an  enemy — for  the  doctors  of  that 
city  seemed  to  be  divided  into  two  classes,  those  who 
were  the  friends  of  Dr.  Simpson  and  those  who  were 
not — and  this  gentleman  told  me  that  he  knew  of  one 
death  following  the  operation,  and  that  in  Dr.  Simpson's 
own  hands. 


DR.  SIMPSON.  311 

I  subsequently  returned  to  Dublin,  where  I  related 
what  I  had  heard  in  regard  to  the  dangers  of  the  opera- 
tions in  Dr.  Simpson's  hands,  and  some  of  the  doctors 
there  said :  "  We  did  not  tell  you  before  you  went  to 
Edinburgh,  for  we  saw  that  you  had  an  exalted  opinion 
of  Dr.  Simpson  and  his  work,  and  that  to  such  an  extent 
that  we  were  not  disposed  to  spoil  your  ideal  of  the 
man."  Then  I  was  told  of  the  case  by  Dr.  McClintock 
himself:  that  he  had  sent,  about  four  years  before,  a 
patient  from  the  Isle  of  Man  to  Simpson  for  treatment ; 
that  the  patient  was  operated  on  by  him  in  his  usual 
manner,  and  that  she  died  in  three  or  four  days — 
whether  from  haemorrhage,  or  from  peritonitis,  he  never 
knew ;  but  certainly  death  followed  the  operation.  And 
yet  Dr.  Simpson  claimed  absolute  immunity  from  any 
bad  results  in  this  operation. 

Simpson  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  see  me  operate 
for  vesico-vaginal  fistula.  He  had  performed  the  opera- 
tion two  or  three  times  himself,  and  was  anxious ,  to 
see  my  method  of  operating,  but  he  had  no  patient  for 
me.  In  London  I  was  received  as  cordially  as  I  was  in 
Dublin  or  in  Edinburgh.  Spencer  "Wells,  Henry  Sav- 
age, Routh,  and  others  of  the  Samaritan  Hospital,  all 
gave  me  a  hearty  and  cordial  welcome.  I  was  called 
upon  to  operate  on  a  case  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula  in  the 
Samaritan  Hospital.  The  case  was  a  difficult  one.  The 
operation  was  satisfactorily  done;  but  the  patient  died 
five  or  six  days  afterward.  This  was  the  first  patient 
that  I  had  ever  lost  by  this  operation,  and  I  had  per- 


312  TI1E   STORY  OF  MY  LITE. 

formed  it  hundreds  of  times.  The  post-mortem  examina- 
tion revealed  the  fact  that  the  ureters  had  been  closed  by 
the  suture,  and  death  resulted  from  kidney  complication. 

I  arrived  in  Paris  about  the  first  of  September  (1861). 
I  soon  made  the  acquaintance  of  my  friend  Dr.  John- 
stone, who  had  long  been  a  resident  in  Paris,  though  not 
then  a  practitioner, of  medicine.  He  was  devoting  him- 
self to  literary  pursuits,  as  the  well-known  correspondent 
of  the  "New  York  Times,"  under  the  nom  de  plume  of 
"  MalakofL"  He  was  an  Ohio  man,  educated  in  New 
York,  and  went  to  Paris  when  he  was  quite  a  young 
man.  Dr.  Johnstone  informed  me  that  the  operations 
associated  with  my  name  had  never  yet  been  successfully 
performed  in  Paris.  Joubard  de  Lamballe  had  per- 
formed, or  rather  operated,  over  and  over  again,  and  had 
had  public  learned  discussions  on  the  subject;  but  no- 
body had  ever  seen  any  successful  operations  for  vesico- 
vaginal fistula  by  him. 

I  was  in  Paris  only  a  few  days  when  Dr.  Huguier  of 
the  Beaujon  Hospital  called  and  invited  me  to  visit  the 
hospital.  I  did  not  then  speak  a  word  of  French.  It 
was  at  Dr.  Johnstone's  suggestion  that  I  was  invited,  I 
believe.  Dr.  Huguier  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  see  the 
operation,  as  Dr.  Johnstone  had  informed  him  that  the 
operation  in  my  hands  was  uniformly  successful,  which 
he  greatly  doubted.  He  had  a  case  of  a  fistula,  just  in 
the  neck  of  the  bladder,  which  I  supposed  was  favorable 
for  an  operation ;  but  it  was  not,  for  it  had  been  operated 
upon  previously  by  some  one  unsuccessfully. 


SUCCESSFUL  OPERATIONS  IN  PARIS.  313 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  operation,  it  was  noised 
abroad  among  the  doctors  of  all  the  hospitals  that  I  was 
there,  and  about  to  perform  an  operation  for  Huguier. 
Drs.  Nekton,  Denonvilliers,  and  other  distinguished 
surgeons  left  their  hospital  services  and  came  to  the  Beau- 
jon  to  witness  it.  It  was  raining,  and  the  light  was  very 
bad.  I  was  then  forty-eight  years  old,  and  I  had  never 
used  spectacles  for  operation.  But,  with  Dr.  Nekton's 
head  between  me  and  my  patient,  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  see  without  glasses,  and  so,  for  the  first  time,  I 
put  them  on.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the  operation  was  per- 
formed to  the  satisfaction  of  Nekton,  Huguier,  and  all 
who  witnessed  it.  At  the  end  of  a  week  the  patient  was 
cured,  which  was  a  great  surprise  to  all  of  them,  for  they 
did  not  believe  that  the  case  was  possibly  curable. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Dr.  Vernier  kindly  invited  me 
to  visit  his  ward  at  the  St.  Louis  Hospital,  where  he  had 
a  case  of  vesico-vaginal  fistula  of  enormous  dimensions, 
and  in  which  the  base  of  the  bladder  was  almost  entirely 
destroyed.  The  fundus  of  the  bladder  was  prolapsed 
through  the  fistula,  and  protruded  externally  from  the 
body,  thus  inverting  the  bladder.  This  was  supposed  to 
be  absolutely  incurable ;  but,  really,  it  was  much  easier 
to  operate  on,  and  a  cure  was  much  more  certain,  than 
in  the  case  that  I  had  operated  on  for  Huguier.  When 
that  case  was  cured  at  the  end  of  a  week,  it  created  a 
regular  furore  in  the  Paris  hospital  circles. 

Yery  soon  after  this  Professor  Loquier,  of  the  Hotel 
Dieu,  hearing  of  what  had  been  done  at  the  Beaujon,  and 

14 


314  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

also  at  the  St.  Louis  hospital,  kindly  invited  me  to  come 
and  perform  an  operation  on  a  patient  of  his.  Here  I 
performed  in  the  amphitheatre,  in  which  Joubard  de 
Lamballe  had  performed  all  his  operations.  I  operated 
on  a  case  which  was  supposed  to  be  very  difficult  to 
cure — by  any  of  the  older  methods  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  cure.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  this  operation 
was  performed  in  the  presence  of  distinguished  surgeons 
and  a  large  concourse  of  students,  and  in  a  week's  time 
the  patient  was  entirely  cured.  I  had  had  three  cases 
in  succession,  which  greatly  added  to  the  interest  in  this 
new  departure  in  surgery,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  it 
was  the  theme  of  professional  gossip  of  the  day  in  that 
city. 

Soon  after  this  I  was  invited  by  Yelpeau  to  go  to  La 
Charite  and  operate  on  a  young  woman,  who  had  been 
the  subject,  so  it  was  said,  of  seventeen  previous  opera- 
tions by  Joubard  de  Lamballe,  all  of  which  had  resulted 
in  failure.  He  had  been  able  to  reduce  the  size  of  the 
fistula  about  one  half,  but  it  was  now  large  enough  to 
pass  the  finger  through  easily  into  the  cavity  of  the  blad- 
der. This  was  a  great  occasion.  Yelpeau  was  incredu- 
lous about  the  success  of  the  operation,  though  he  had 
been  told  that  three  cases  had  been  operated  on  success- 
fully. He  stood  at  my  back  and  carefully  watched 
every  step  of  the  operation.  There  were  many  distin- 
guished surgeons  present,  including  ITelaton  (one  of  the 
great  surgeons  of  the  day).  Young  Mr.  Souchon,  who 
was  then  a  medical  student  in  Paris,  and  a  pupil  of  Yel- 


OPERATIONS  IN  BRUSSELS.  315 

peau.  He  was  interne  at  La  Charite.  He  translated  to 
Yelpeau  every  step  of  the  operation,  although  he  could 
see  for  himself.  But  when  it  was  finished  Yelpeau  took 
me  by  the  hand  and  thanked  me  very  much.  He  said 
he  would  watch  the  day  of  the  taking  out  of  the  sutures 
with  a  great  deal  of  interest.  I  assured  him  that  the 
case  would  certainly  be  cured.  He  found  the  sutures  at 
the  end  of  a  week  just  as  I  had  placed  them.  I  was 
called  on  for  a  history  of  vesico- vaginal  fistula,  and  the 
method  of  operating.  I  spoke  in  English,  and  my  young 
friend  translated  very  rapidly  in  French.  This  was  con- 
sidered the  highest  triumph  possible  for  me,  being  the 
fourth  successful  operation  in  three  or  four  weeks. 

Soon  after  this  operation,  Dr.  Deroubaix,  surgeon  to 
King  Leopold  of  Belgium,  and  the  first  surgeon  in  Brus- 
sels, came  to  Paris.  He  said  he  had  heard  a  great  deal 
of  what  I  had  done  in  the  hospitals  of  Paris  in  regard  to 
indoctrinating  the  profession  for  vesico-vaginal  fistula, 
and  that  he  wished  me  to  come  to  Brussels  and  demon- 
strate the  operation  in  the  hospitals  there.  I  accepted 
his  invitation  and  went  to  Brussels  a  few  days  afterward. 
I  went  into  the  hospital  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  was  operating  until  twelve  at  noon,  or  even  later  in 
the  day.  I  performed  three  operations  that  morning,  to 
illustrate  the  different  varieties  of  this  terrible  infirmity. 
The  operations  were  satisfactorily  done ;  but  one  of  the 
patients  died  about  a  week  afterward.  The  post-mortem 
showed  that  the  operation  was  done  satisfactorily  and 
was  perfectly  successful;   but  the   nurse,  in   using  the 


316  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

catheter,  had  driven  it  through  the  posterior  wall  of  the 
bladder  around  into  the  peritoneal  cavity  of  the  bladder, 
resulting  in  death — an  accident  which  would  not  have 
happened  in  the  hands  of  an  ordinary  nurse  accustomed 
to  such  cases. 

However,  the  doctors  were  so  well  pleased  with  the 
operations  that  they  gave  me  a  big  dinner,  and  made 
speeches  at  me,  not  a  word  of  which  did  I  understand. 
They  elected  me  a  corresponding  fellow  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Medicine,  and  recommended  my  name  to 
the  Government  for  the  Legion  of  Honor. 

I  then  returned  to  Paris,  intending  to  go  to  Yienna 
to  show  the  operations  there.  I  have  forgotten  to  men- 
tion the  fact  that,  about  three  or  four  years  before  I  went 
to  Paris,  an  American  surgeon  had  gone  there  claiming 
to  be  the  author  of  the  operations  for  vesico-vaginal 
fistula.  He  gave  me  some  credit  in  having  initiated  the 
work,  but  claimed  for  himself  the  honor  of  perfecting  it. 
He  even  claimed  my  speculum  and  all  the  instruments 
as  his  own.  He  had  set  the  blade  of  the  speculum  at  a 
little  more  of  an  acute  angle  with  the  handle,  and  he 
had  put  an  ivory  handle  to  the  tenaculum,  instead  of 
ebony.  He  used  what  was  called  a  "  button "  for  the 
fastening  of  the  silver  wire.  He  had  operated  only 
once  in  Paris.  The  operation  was  only  a  partial  suc- 
cess; for  very  soon  after  the  sutures  were  removed 
there  was  an  absorption  of  the  line  of  union,  the  fis- 
tula opening  and  the  urine  escaping.  So  his  opera- 
tions were  pronounced  a  failure.     Of  course,  there  was 


A  BAD  SUBJECT.  317 

no  enthusiasm  over  it,  because  he  had  not  succeeded. 
Nobody  had  been  able  to  follow  his  method,  or  to  cure 
a  single  patient  during  the  whole  four  years  preceding 
my  advent  in  Paris. 

I  had  now  performed  four  operations,  in  four  of  the 
most  prominent  hospitals  in  Paris,  and  before  all  the 
leading  surgeons  of  the  city,  and  my  work  was  the 
theme  of  conversation  among  medical  men  everywhere. 
Men  attending  the  hospitals  wrote  to  different  parts  of 
the  world,  even  to  Russia  and  back  to  my  own  country, 
about  the  work  that  I  was  doing  in  Paris. 

Yery  soon  after  the  operation  for  Yelpeau,  in  La 
Charite  Hospital,  Dr.  Mungenier,  who  had  taken  a  great 
interest  in  me  and  my  work,  and  who,  with  Dr.  John- 
stone had  been  prominent  in  introducing  me  to  the 
surgeons  of  hospitals,  brought  me  a  woman  about  forty 
years  old  who  had  had  a  vesico-vaginal  fistula  for  more 
than  twenty  years.  She  had  been  seen  and  examined  by 
many  of  the  leading  surgeons  of  Paris,  and  pronounced 
incurable.  She  had  also  been  seen  by  the  American 
surgeon  who  preceded  me  in  Paris  three  years  pre- 
viously, and  who  had  refused  to  operate  upon  her.  The 
case  was  certainly  a  very  bad  one.  The  whole  base  of  the 
bladder  was  destroyed,  the  mouths  of  the  ureters  were 
plainly  visible,  and  the  urine  could  be  seen  passing  in 
little  spurts  from  these  narrow  openings.  The  bladder 
was  inverted  and  hung  outside  of  the  body,  in  a  little 
hernial  mass  as  large  as  a  child's  fist.  Her  condition  was 
very  deplorable,  and  my  friend  Dr.  Mungenier  was  very 


315  THE   STORY   OF   MY  LITE. 

much,  surprised  when  I  told  him  she  could  easily  be 
cured  by  a  single  operation.  He  said.  ••  But  I  can't  get  a 
bed  for  her  in  any  hospital.''  I  replied.  "That  makes 
no  difference  ;  I  will  take  her  to  the  Hotel  Voltaire  and 
engage  a  room  and  will  pay  the  expenses  myself,  just  to 
show  you  that  I  can  cure  her." 

He  was  very  much  surprised  that  I  should  be  will- 
ing to  do  this,  and  then  he  said.  *'*  I  can  bring  many  of 
the  leading  surgeons  from  the  different  hospitals  m  see 
you  operate  if  you  will  let  me.  I  agreed  to  it.  and  the 
operation  was  performed  at  the  Hotel  Voltaire  on  the 
15th  of  October,  1561.  I  was  greatly  surprised  to  see 
what  a  number  of  leading  physcians  were  not  only  will- 
ing, but  anxious,  to  witness  the  operation  in  private 
practice.  Among  them  were  Xelaton,  Velpeau,  Civi- 
ale.  Baron  Larrey,  Sir  Joseph  Olliffe.  Campbell.  Huguier, 
and  others  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of  Paris,  num- 
bering to  about  seventeen  or  eighteen.  Dr.  Johnstone 
gave  the  anesthetic.  The  operation  required  about  an 
horn' ;  the  fistula  was  closed  to  the  satisfaction  of  every- 
body  present.  In  one  week's  time  the  sutures,  twelve  in 
number,  were  removed  and  the  patient  was  found  per- 
fectly cured. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  these  five  successful  operations 
in  three  or  four  weeks  in  the  great  eitv  of  Paris,  created 
a  furore  among  the  profession  in  regard  to  the  cura- 
bility of  an  affection  which  they  had  until  now  sup- 
posed to  be  totally  incurable. 

Having  thus  demonstrated  clearly  the  principles  and 


AN  INTERESTING  CASE.  319 

success  of  the  operation  in  the  hospitals  of  Paris,  I  was 
on  the  eve  of  going  to  Yienna  to  do  something  in  that 
city,  when  Dr.  Campbell,  the  great  accoucheur  of  Paris, 
told  Dr.  Nelaton  that  I  was  about  to  leave.  Dr.  Nek- 
ton asked  Dr.  Campbell  to  see  me  and  beg  me  to  remain 
for  a  few  days,  till  he  could  go  for  a  patient  to  come  to 
me  from  the  south  of  France.  The  patient  had  been 
seen  six  or  eight  months  previous,  and  pronounced 
perfectly  incurable.  "  But,"  said  he  to  Dr.  Campbell, 
"  since  I  have  witnessed  what  I  have  in  the  hands  of  Dr. 
Sims,  and  since  I  have  heard  of  the  success  attending 
his  operations  in  other  hospitals,  I  think  that  he  can  cure 
almost  any  case  of  the  sort.  I  am  anxious  to  get  his 
opinion  in  the  case  of  this  lady,  who  belongs  to  the 
higher  walks  of  life."  Of  course  I  was  too  good  a  tac- 
tician to  let  such  an  opportunity  as  this  pass  without  im- 
proving it,  and  I  immediately  sent  word  that  I  would 
await  the  arrival  of  his  patient  from  the  country.  I  did 
not  get  to  Yienna  at  all,  as  a  consequence. 

His  patient  arrived  in  due  time.  She  was  about 
twenty-one.  She  had  been  delivered  two  years  before. 
The  child  had  hydrocephalus,  the  pressure  of  its  enor- 
mous head  produced  a  sloughing  of  the  soft  parts  of  the 
mother,  which  resulted  in,  seemingly,  a  total  destruction 
of  the  base  of  the  bladder.  She  was  young,  beautiful, 
rich,  accomplished ;  and,  as  Dr.  Eelaton  had  told  her  six 
months  before  that  she  was  absolutely  incurable,  she  was 
praying  for  death,  but  in  vain,  for  patients  seldom  die  of 
afflictions  of  this  kind.    In  all  my  experience  I  have  never 


320  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LITE. 

seen  a  case  of  this  kind  which  was  attended  with  such 
extreme  suffering.  The  constant  discharge  of  the  urine 
had  created  an  inflammation  and  excoriation  of  the  exter- 
nal parts  with  which  it  came  in  contact,  in  some  places 
producing  sloughings  as  large  as  a  pea.  It  looked  like 
localized  small-pox.  She  was  obliged  to  take  anodynes 
in  large  quantities  to  relieve  the  burning  pain  attendant 
upon  her  sufferings.  She  passed  sleepless  nights  and 
restless  days,  and  was  altogether  one  of  the  most  unhap- 
py women  I  have  ever  seen. 

On  examination  of  the  case  I  saw  that  it  was  exceed- 
ingly difficult.  At  first  I  was  almost  disposed  to  say  it 
was  incurable,  but  after  a  more  thorough  investigation 
I  said  to  Dr.  Xelaton  that  I  was  sure  she  could  be  cured ; 
that  it  would  require  a  little  preparatory  operation  which 
would  take  a  week  or  ten  days,  and  the  radical  operation 
would  be  performed  afterward,  and  I  was  convinced  she 
could  be  restored  perfectly.  I  went  on  to  explain  to 
him  how  the  operation  was  to  be  done,  thinking  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course  that  he  simply  wanted  my  opinion  on  the 
question.  He  heard  me  patiently  and  said,  u  I  under- 
stand everything  that  you  say,  but  I  don't  feel  competent 
to  do  the  work.  I  have  not  the  experience  nor  the  skill 
of  manipulation  that  you  possess,  and,  if  you  will  kindly 
take  charge  of  my  patient  and  perform  this  operation  in 
my  stead,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  to  you."  As  a  mat- 
ter of  course  I  accepted  the  case,  which  prevented  me 
from  making  my  proposed  visit  to  Vienna. 

The  first  operation,  as  I  had  indicated  to  Dr.  Xelaton, 


EFFECTS  OF  CHLOROFORM.  321 

was  performed  in  the  country,  and  in  two  weeks  after- 
ward the  radical  operation  was  performed  at  St.  Ger- 
main, an  hour's  distance  from  Paris.  Dr.  Nelaton,  Dr. 
Johnstone,  Dr.  Campbell,  Dr.  Beylard  and  Dr.  Alan  Her- 
bert were  my  assistants. 

Dr.  Campbell  was  the  great  accoucheur  of  Paris  at 
that  time.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  chloroform  to 
his  patients  in  labor,  and  was  selected  by  the  family  to  give 
the  chloroform  because  of  his  known  reputation  in  using 
it.  The  operation  was  begun  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  19th  of  December,  1861,  Dr.  Nelaton  sitting 
by  and  watching  every  stage  of  it  with  the  greatest  at- 
tention. At  the  end  of  about  forty  minutes  all  the  su- 
tures were  introduced  and  ready  to  be  secured.  Just  at 
this  time  I  discovered  a  certain  amount  of  lividity  in  the 
mucous  surfaces,  and  I  called  Dr.  Nekton's  and  Dr. 
Johnstone's  attention  to  it,  and  said,  "  It  seems  to  me  the 
blood  is  stagnating."  I  asked  Dr.  Campbell  if  the  pulse 
and  respiration  were  all  right ;  he  said  "  Yes,  all  right ; 
go  on."  Scarcely  were  these  words  uttered  when  he 
suddenly  cried  out,  "  Stop !  Stop  !  No  pulse,  no  breath- 
ing." And  sure  enough  the  patient  looked  as  if  she 
was  dead.  Dr.  Nelaton  was  not  in  the  least  discon- 
certed. He  quietly  ordered  the  head  to"  be  lowered  and 
the  body  to  be  inverted,  that  is,  the  head  to  hang  down 
while  the  heels  were  raised  in  the  air  by  Dr.  Johnstone, 
the  legs  resting  one  on  each  of  his  shoulders.  Dr. 
Campbell  supported  the  thorax,  Dr.  Herbert  went  to  an 
adjoining  room  for  a  spoon  with  the  handle  of  which 


322  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

the  jaws  were  forced  open,  and  I  handed  Dr.  Xelaton 
the  tenaculum,  which  he  hooked  in  the  tongue,  pulling 
it  out  between  the  teeth,  and  gave  it  in  charge  of  Dr. 
Herbert,  while  Dr.  Beylard  was  assigned  to  the  duty  of 
making  efforts  at  artificial  respiration.     Dr.  Xelaton  or- 
dered and  overlooked  every  movement.     They  held  the 
patient  in  this  inverted  position  for  a  long  time,  making 
artificial  respiration,  before  there  was  any  manifestation 
of  returning  life.     Dr.  Campbell,  who  published  an  ac- 
count of  the  case  subsequently,  said  in  his  report  that  it 
was  fifteen  minutes,  and  that  it   seemed  an  age.     My 
notes  of  the  case,  written  a  few  hours  afterward,  make 
it  twenty  minutes  that  the  patient  was  held  in  this  posi- 
tion.    Be  this  as  it  may,  the  time  was  so  long  that  I 
thought  it  useless  to  make  any  further  efforts,  and  I  said, 
"  Dr.  !N~elaton,  our  patient  is  dead,  and  you  might  as 
well  stop  all  efforts."     But  Dr.  Xelaton  never  lost  hope, 
and  by  his  quiet,  cool,  brave  manner  he  seemed  to  infuse 
his  spirit  into  his  assistants.     At  last  there  was  a  feeble 
inspiration,  and  after  a  long  time  another,  and  by  and 
by  another ;   and  then  the   breathing   became  regular. 
When  the  pulse  and  respiration  were  well  re-established, 
Dr.  ^Nekton  ordered  the  patient  to  be  laid  on  the  table. 
This  was  done  very  gently,  but  the  moment  the  body 
was  placed  horizontally  the  pulse  and  breathing  instantly 
ceased.     Quick  as  thought  the  body  was  again  inverted, 
the  head  downward  and  the  feet  over  Dr.  Johnston's 
shoulders,  and  the  same  manoeuvres  as  before  were  put 
into  execution.     Dr.   Campbell  thinks  it  did  not  take 


METHOD  OF  RESUSCITATION.  323 

such  a  long  time  to  re-establish  the  action  of  the  lungs 
and  heart  as  in  the  first  instance,  but  it  seemed  to  me  to 
be  quite  as  long,  for  the  same  painful,  protracted  and 
anxious  efforts  were  made  as  before.  Feeble  signs  of  re- 
turning life  eventually  made  their  appearance.  Respira- 
tion was  at  first  irregular  and  at  long  intervals ;  soon  it 
became  more  regular,  and  the  pulse  could  then  be  count- 
ed, but  it  was  very  feeble  and  intermittent.  "When  they 
thought  she  had  quite  recovered  they  laid  her  horizon- 
tally on  the  table  again,  saying  "She's  all  right  this 
time." 

But  the  moment  the  body  was  placed  in  a  horizontal 
position  the  respiration  ceased  a  third  time,  the  pulse 
was  gone,  and  she  looked  the  picture  of  death.  But  Dr. 
Nelaton  and  his  assistants,  by  a  simultaneous  effort, 
quickly  inverted  the  body  a  third  time,  with  a  view  of 
throwing  all  the  blood  possible  to  the  brain,  and  again 
they  began  their  efforts  at  artificial  respiration.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  she  would  never  breathe  again,  but  at 
last  there  was  a  spasmodic  gasp,  and  after  a  long  time 
another,  and  after  another  long  interval  there  was  a 
third,  and  then  a  fourth  more  profoundly ;  there  was 
then  a  long  yawn,  and  the  respiration  after  this  be- 
came tolerably  regular.  She  was  held  in  a  vertical  po- 
sition until  she  in  a  manner  became  semi-conscious, 
opened  her  eyes,  looked  wildly  around,  and  asked  what 
was  the  matter.  She  was  then,  and  not  until  then,  laid 
on  the  table,  and  we  all  thanked  Dr.  Nelaton  for  having 
saved  the  life  of  this  lovely  woman.     In  a  few  minutes 


324  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

more  the  operation  was  finished,  but  of  course  without 
any  more  chloroform.  The  sutures  were  quickly  assorted 
and  separately  secured,  and  the  patient  put  to  bed.  On 
the  eighth  day  thereafter  I  had  the  happiness  to  remove 
the  sutures,  in  the  presence  of  Dr.  Nelaton,  and  to  show 
him  the  success  of  the  operation. 

I  have  detailed  the  circumstances  of  this  interesting 
case  at  great  length,  because  I  believe  it  goes  as  far  to 
establish  the  proper  method  of  resuscitation  from  chloro- 
form narcosis  as  anything  possibly  can.  If  the  recovery 
had  been  complete  and  perfect  with  the  first  effort  at 
reversing  the  body,  there  might  have  been  a  doubt 
whether  the  vertical  position  was  really  the  cause  of  re- 
suscitation ;  but  when  the  horizontal  position  was  again 
and  again  followed  by  the  cessation  of  all  signs  of  life, 
and  when  life  was  again  and  again  re  established  by  a  pro- 
cess that  favored  the  gravitation  of  the  blood,  poisoned 
as  it  was  with  chloroform,  to  the  brain,  the  inference  is 
very  clear  that  death  in  such  cases  is  due  to  syncope  or 
cerebral  anaemia. 

Some  years  ago  there  was  a  story  current  in  Paris 
that  Dr.  Nelaton  had  derived  the  hint  of  reversing  the 
body  in  chloroform  poisoning  from  a  discovery  accident- 
ally made  by  his  little  boy,  then  some  seven  or  eight 
years  old— that  his  little  son  had  killed  some  mice  with 
chloroform,  and  without  thought  or  reason  he  had  taken 
up  a  dead  mouse  by  the  tail  and  was  twirling  it  around, 
when  to  his  surprise,  it  begun  to  manifest  signs  of  life, 
and  soon  recovered  entirely,  while  the  mice  left  lying 


EXPERIMENT   WITH   CHLOROFORM  ON  MICE.    325 

were  dead  ;  and  that  the  great  surgeon  was  thus  taught  an 
important  lesson  by  his  little  boy.  This  is  a  very  pretty 
story,  and  it  seems  a  pity  to  spoil  it,  but  lately  when  in 
Paris  I  called  to  see  young  Nelaton,  who  is  now  a  doctor 
of  medicine,  and  I  asked  him  for  the  facts  of  the  mouse 
story.  He  said  that  when  they  lived  on  the  Quai  Vol- 
taire the  house  was  infested  with  mice ;  that  great  num- 
bers were  caught  in  traps  almost  daily ;  that  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  killing  them  with  chloroform,  by  covering 
the  trap  with  a  napkin  and  pouring  the  chloroform  on 
it,  and  that  his  only  idea  was  that  of  its  being  an  easy 
death  for  the  mice.  One  day,  when  he  had  given  a 
happy  dispatch  to  some  mice,  his  father  happened  to 
come  into  the  room,  and  seeing  the  dead  mice  he  told 
his  son  that,  if  he  would  take  up  one  by  the  tail  and 
hold  it  with  the  head  downward,  it  would  revive,  while 
the  others  that  were  permitted  to  keep  the  recumbent 
position  would  not.  lie  did  this  and  found  it  was  true ; 
and  he  told  me  that  he  had  when  a  boy  performed  this 
experiment  on  mice  some  forty  or  fifty  times  or  more, 
and  always  with  the  same  unvarying  result.  He  says 
that  he  has  often  heard  his  father  speak  not  only  of  the 
case  that  occurred  at  St.  Germain,  but  of  other  cases  that 
he  had  saved  before  the  time  of  the  mouse  story,  which 
dates  back  to  1857. 

In  America  accoucheurs  use  chloroform  and  surgeons 
mostly  ether.  I  believe  there  has  not  as  yet  been  a 
single  death  from  chloroform  administered  during  labor, 
while  deaths  from  it  in  general  surgery  occur  constantly, 


326  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

and  for  unimportant  operations.  There  must  be  a  reason 
for  this.  I  believe  it  can  be  explained  only  on  the  theory 
that  death  from  chloroform  is  due  to  syncope  or  cerebral 
anaemia.  Now,  we  know  that  in  active  labor  there  can 
be  no  cerebral  anaemia,  for  every  pain  throws  the  blood 
violently  to  the  brain,  producing  fullness  and  congestion 
of  the  blood-vessels,  thereby  counteracting  the  tendency 
of  the  chloroform  to  produce  a  contrary  condition.  It 
may  be  said  that  the  recumbent  position  has  some  in- 
fluence in  determining  the  safety  of  chloroform  in  labor ; 
and  so  it  has. 

Chloroform  given  intermittingly  is  thought  to  be  less 
dangerous,  but  patients  in  labor  are  often  kept  for  hours 
under  its  influence  with  impunity,  and  occasionally  it  is 
necessary  to  produce  complete  and  profound  narcosis  in 
some  obstetrical  operations ;  and  yet  I  believe  I  can 
safely  repeat  what  I  have  already  said,  that  no  woman 
has  yet  died  in  labor  from  the  effects  of  this  anaesthetic. 
In  puerperal  convulsions,  where  the  brain  is  believed  to 
be  overcharged  with  blood,  and  that,  too,  when  the  blood 
is  known  to  be  poisoned  by  urea,  we  formerly  bled  the 
patient,  and  we  do  so  now,  but  one  of  our  chief  remedies 
is  chloroform,  which  acts  by  resisting  spasmodic  move- 
ments and  by  producing  that  very  state  of  cerebral  anae- 
mia so  necessary  to  a  successful  result.  Whether  puer- 
peral convulsions  are  less  frequent  in  labors  under  chloro- 
form than  in  those  without  it,  I  do  not  know.  I  believe 
that  obstetricians  may  take  lessons  from  Nelaton's  method 
of  resuscitation. 


CHLOROFORM  IN  SURGICAL  OPERATIONS.      327 

We  should  not  be  satisfied  with  simply  placing  the 
head  low,  but,  in  addition  to  the  means  usually  adopted, 
we  should  invert  the  body  and  throw  what  little  blood 
there  is  left  in  it  wholly  to  the  brain.  Whether  death 
from  chloroform  is  due  to  cerebral  anaemia  or  not,  it  is 
safe  to  adopt  Nekton's  method  in  all  cases  of  supposed 
or  threatened  danger ;  and  I  think  the  safest  plan  is  to 
relinquish  the  use  of  chloroform  altogether  except  in 
obstetrics.  The  frequent  cases  of  death  from  the  use 
of  chloroform  in  surgical  operations  that  have  occurred 
among  us,  even  of  late,  should  warn  us  to  give  up  this 
dangerous  agency,  if  we  can  find  another  that  is  as  effi- 
cient and  at  the  same  time  free  from  danger.  Ether 
fulfills  this  requisite  to  a  remarkable  degree ;  but,  while 
it  is  safe,  it  is  offensive  to  the  physician  and  bystanders, 
as  well  as  to  the  patient.  Chloroform  is  delicious  and 
dangerous ;  ether  is  disagreeable  and  safe  in  purely  sur- 
gical cases.  Since  the  publication  of  Dr.  Nekton's 
method  of  resuscitation  from  chloroform  narcosis,  many 
valuable  lives  have  been  saved  by  it  in  different  parts 
of  my  own  country  and  elsewhere  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

I  sail  from  Xew  York  and  return  to  Paris  —  Become  physician  to  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton — Death  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton — The  emperor 
and  empress — Anecdotes  of  Trousseau. 

Soox  after  Dr.  Xenon's  case  was  cured  I  returned 
to  America,  sailing  from  Qneenstown  on  the  Inman 
steamer  Kangaroo,  on  the  25th  of  December,  1561,  and 
arriving  in  X*ew  York  on  the  11th  of  January,  IS  2, 
after  a  stormy  passage  of  seventeen  days.  When  I  left 
home  in  July  previously,  we  were  marshaling  forces 
Xorth  and  South  for  battle.  On  my  arrival  in  Europe 
we  heard  of  the  battle  of  Bull  Ron.  On  my  return,  in 
the  following  January.  I  ^vas  obliged  to  provide  myself 
with  a  passport  to  come  into  my  own  country.  When 
I  got  home  I  found  that  we  were  in  the  very  midst 
of  a  great  civil  war,  and  I  was  so  unhappy  by  the  state 
of  affairs  then  existing  that  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
take  my  family  abroad,  and  we  sailed  from  Xew  York 
on  the  Great  Eastern  on  July  15th.  1562. 

My  programme  was  to  establish  my  family  in  Paris, 
and  I  thought  I  would  remain  there  ~ix  months  in  the 
year,  in  the  summer  time,  and  then  return  home  for  six 
months  to  practice  my  profession  to  make  money  to  snp- 


PHYSICIAN  TO   THE  DUCHESS  OF  HAMILTON.    329 

port  them.  I  was  so  sure  of  coming  back  again  to 
America  in  the  autumn  that  I  had  paid  for  a  return 
ticket  in  advance  on  the  Great  Eastern ;  but,  as  soon  as 
I  got  to  Paris,  I  found  that  the  work  I  had  done  there 
the  summer  before  in  the  hospitals  and  for  Dr.  Nekton, 
had  given  me  so  much  reputation,  that  I  had  no  trouble 
at  all  in  getting  business  enough  to  support  my  family, 
without  the  necessity  of  returning  to  New  York  for  that 
purpose.  Sir  Joseph  Olliffe  was  my  great  friend,  and 
through  him  I  was  called  in  consultation  to  some  of  the 
highest  personages  in  the  land.  Thus  I  was  detained 
abroad  quite  unexpectedly ;  but  viewing  the  political  con- 
dition of  the  country  and  the  disturbed  state  of  affairs,  I 
easily  resigned  myself  to  the  force  of  circumstances  and 
remained  abroad,  thinking  every  year  that  I  would 
return. 

Through  Sir  Joseph  Olliffe,  I  became  physician  to  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton,  who  was  then  very  ill,  and  in  1863 
I  went  with  her  to  Baden-Baden  to  spend  the  summer. 
She  gave  me  a  beautiful  chateau  to  live  in,  ready  fur- 
nished, one  which  had  never  before  been  occupied  by 
any  but  royalty ;  and  here  I  took  up  my  abode  for  the 
summer. 

When  I  went  abroad  I  thought  I  would  occupy  my 
leisure  moments  in  writing  my  work  on  the  Accidents  of 
Parturition,  and,  as  I  knew  I  was  to  spend  the  summer 
at  Baden-Baden,  I  took  all  my  material,  manuscript  and 
drawings,  for  the  purpose  of  writing  the  proposed  book. 
About  the  middle  of  June,  1863,  I  began  it.     I  had  piles 


330  THE   STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

of  manuscript  and  piles  of  illustrations,  and  commenced 
classifying  and  arranging  the  material,  working  very  hard 
for  two  days.  The  weather  was  excessively  hot  and 
exhausting,  and  at  last  I  said  to  myself,  "  This  work  is  too 
heavy ;  I  am  not  equal  to  the  task  during  such  extremely 
hot  weather.  I  will  lay  it  aside  until  the  autumn,  and 
then  I  will  set  to  work  in  earnest  to  write  my  great 
work,"  which  I  hoped  and  expected  would  send  my  name 
down  to  posterity.  And  then,  said  I,  "  Between  now  and 
October  I  will  occupy  my  time  in  writing  a  pamphlet  on 
the  subject  of  sterility.  I  don't  know  a  great  deal  about 
it,  but  I  know  more  than  anybody  else,  and  I  am  sure 
that  a  pamphlet  on  this  subject  will  be  welcomed  by  the 
profession  everywhere."  With  this  intention  I  dismissed 
the  heavy  work  and  commenced  the  lighter  one  of  writ- 
ing a  pamphlet.  I  went  on  with  the  subject,  and  instead 
of  its  ending  in  a  pamphlet  form  it  became  a  book  on  all 
the  diseases  of  women,  leaving  out  the  subjects  of  ovari- 
otomy and  the  accidents  of  parturition,  but  embracing 
everything  else  in  the  department  of  gynaecology.  This 
book  was  entitled  "  Clinical  Notes  on  Uterine  Surgery." 
It  was  so  radical  and  revolutionary  in  all  the  methods 
adopted,  and  so  startling  in  the  results  claimed  in  the 
treatment  of  many  affections,  that  the  profession  did  not 
at  first  readily  accept  its  teachings,  but  in  a  few  years  it 
completely  revolutionized  the  subject  of  gynaecology, 
and  even  now  it  is  received  everywhere  as  authority. 
Before  that  time  there  was  not  a  professorship  of  gynae- 
cology, worthy  of  the  name,  connected  with  any  of  our 


ACCIDENT  TO  THE  DUKE  OF  HAMILTON.       331 

medical  schools,  and  now  we  have  professorships  of  this 
department  in  every  medical  school  in  the  country,  and, 
indeed,  throughout  the  civilized  world. 

I  have  always  said  this  book  was  a  mere  accident ; 
that  I  never  intended  to  write  it.  The  book  that  I  went 
to  Baden-Baden  to  write  has  not  yet  been  written. 

While  at  Baden-Baden,  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  went 
with  his  friend  Lord  Howard  one  night  to  the  opera. 
After  the  opera  they  went  to  the  Maison  Doree,  as  is  the 
custom  in  Paris,  for  a  supper.  Between  one  and  two 
o'clock  they  left  the  Maison  Doree  to  return  to  their 
hotel,  and  the  duke,  as  he  started  down  the  stairs,  tripped 
and  fell  a  distance  of  twenty  feet,  head  foremost,  turning 
in  his  fall  so  as  to  strike  the  back  of  his  head  on  the  floor 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs.  He  was  taken  up  insensible, 
and  carried  to  the  Hotel  Bristol,  and  immediately  a 
telegram  was  sent  to  the  duchess  at  Baden-Baden.  Al- 
though she  was  very  ill,  she  at  once  undertook  the  trip 
back  to  Paris,  and  I  accompanied  her  with  the  family. 
On  arriving  in  Paris,  the  duke  was  still  unconscious  and 
remained  in  that  condition  for  several  days,  when  he 
died,  without  having  recognized  any  member  of  his 
family.  The  Duke  of  Hamilton  was  a  handsome  man  of 
the  Byronic  order.  He  was  a  handsome  likeness  of  Lord 
Byron,  and  his  whole  life  was  Byronic,  but  unpoetical. 

It  was  at  the  Hotel' Bristol  that  I  was  presented  to  the 
Empress  Eugenie.  She  came  every  day  to  see  the  duke, 
and  I  was  surprised  and  delighted  to  see  her  efficiency  as 
a  nurse,  to  see  her  gentleness  and  kindness,  and  skill,  and 


332  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

management,  in  giving  directions  for  the  comfort  of  the 
poor  insensible  duke.  When  the  duke  died,  the  em- 
peror sent  his  remains  to  Scotland  in  a  ship  of  war.  The 
empress  invited  the  duchess  and  the  Lady  Mary  Hamil- 
ton to  go  to  St.  Cloud,  where  she  was  spending  the 
summer.  This  was  about  the  6th  of  July,  1863.  On  the 
5th  of  April,  1863,  the  emperor,  having  heard  of  my 
work  in  Paris,  sent  for  me  to  consult  me  about  the 
empress's  health.  I  arrived  at  the  appointed  time  and 
found  his  majesty  waiting.  I  sat  and  talked  with  him 
about  half  an  hour,  about  the  political  affairs  of  my  own 
country  as  well  as  about  the  empress's  health.  He  spoke 
in  the  tenderest  and  most  affectionate  terms  of  the 
memory  of  his  mother  ;  told  me  how  she  had  suffered  in 
the  last  days  of  her  life ;  of  the  manner  of  her  death,  and 
how  anxious  he  was  about  the  empress's  health ;  and  he 
said  that  her  majesty  would  send  for  me  in  a  day  or  two 
for  a  consultation.  I  supposed  when  I  went  to  see  him 
that  I  would  feel  a  little  embarrassed,  but  his  manner 
was  so  gentle  and  kind  that  I  really  forgot  that  I  was 
talking  to  the  emperor,  and  after  I  left  I  was  mortified 
at  remembering  that  I  had  never  once  said  "  Sire,"  in 
addressing  him.  He  spoke  remarkably  good  English, 
with  a  slight  German  accent. 

The  day  after  my  visit  to  the  emperor,  the  empress 
was  taken  with  diphtheria,  and  I  was  disappointed  in  not 
seeing  her  at  the  time  that  I  expected.  She  was  confined 
to  the  house  for  about  a  month,  and  was  not  able  to  go 
out  a  great  deal  until  she  went  to  St.  Cloud,  about  the 


THE  EMPKESS.  333 

1st  of  June.  The  day  after  the  duchess  went  to  St. 
Cloud  I  was  sent  for,  aud  installed  in  the  palace,  to  be 
near  her,  and  render  her  any  professional  services  she 
might  need,  and  she  needed  a  deal  of  care.  While  there 
I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  empress.  I  was  the  guest  of 
the  Duke  de  Bassano,  who  was  the  lord  chamberlain  of 
the  empress.  The  Duke  de  Bassano  spoke  very  good 
English,  and  so  did  all  the  members  of  his  family.  There 
was  no  formality  at  St.  Cloud.  The  emperor  was  at 
Yichy.  The  first  day  of  my  arrival,  when  I  was  sent  for 
to  come  to  dinner,  I  was  told  it  was  not  necessary  to 
appear  in  a  dress -coat.  At  the  Duke  de  Bassano' s  table 
there  were  about  fifteen  persons  present,  ladies-in-waiting 
at  the  court,  and  gentlemen-in-waiting.  I  did  not  speak 
a  word  of  French  at  that  time. 

I  remained  at  St.  Cloud  a  fortnight.  During  that 
time  I  had  the  professional  supervision  of  the  em- 
press's health;  saw  her  every  day  and  every  evening. 
Just  before  breakfast,  and  dinner,  the  guests  of  the 
Duke  de  Bassano,  the  ladies-  and  gentlemen-in-wait- 
ing, would  arrange  themselves  in  a  drawing-room  ad- 
joining the  dining-room  of  the  duke,  and  the  empress 
would  come  in  and  have  a  pleasant  word  to  say  to 
every  one,  a  bow  and  a  smile  for  each,  and  pass  along 
to  her  own  dining-room,  which  was  in  a  different  part 
of  the  pavilion,  where  she  dined  with  the  Duchess  of 
Hamilton,  her  daughter  Lady  Mary,  and  the  prince 
imperial.  The  prince  imperial  was  then  about  seven 
years   old.     After  the   empress  had  passed   on  to  her 


334  THE  STORY  OE  MY  LIFE. 

own  dining-room,  then  the  party  of  the  Duke  de 
Bassano  followed,  and  filed  off  to  one  side  into  his 
dining-room.  Almost  every  afternoon  we  would  get 
in  carriages  and  drive  in  one  direction  or  another. 
Occasionally  we  would  sit  under  the  shadows  of  the 
trees,  or  in  the  porticoes  of  the  palace,  and  engage  in 
lively  conversation. 

I  remember  one  evening,  when  the  sun  was  about 
an  hour  high,  the  carriages  were  driven  up,  the  em- 
press, and  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton  and  her  daughter, 
and  a  lady-in-waiting,  were  in  one  carriage,  and  the 
other  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  in  three  or  four 
others.  I  had  been  invited  to  take  a  seat  with  two 
ladies  and  a  gentleman  in  an  open  phaeton,  and,  just 
as  I  got  into  the  phaeton,  the  empress,  whose  carriage 
was  twenty  steps  distant,  cried  out,  u  O  doctor,  we 
are  going  to  take  a  long  drive  this  evening :  we  are 
going  to  Versailles,  and  we  shall  not  get  back  before 
nine  o'clock.  It  may  be  cool  in  the  evening,  although 
it  is  hot  now,  and  you  had  better  run  up-stairs  and 
get  your  overcoat."  I  mention  this  to  show  how 
thoughtful  and  considerate  she  was  of  the  comfort  of 
everybody  around  her.  She  was  beloved — idolized,  as 
it  were — by  all  her  household,  and  all  the  court  circle, 
and  by  everybody  that  came  in  contact  with  her.  I 
knew  the  nurse  very  well  that  was  with  her  when  the 
prince  imperial  was  born.  The  empress  was  very  ill, 
and  she  was  bed-ridden  for  a  long  time,  and  I  have 
heard  the  nurse  say  that  she  had  never  heard  her  say 


RESIDENCE  IN  PARIS.  335 

a  cross  or  disagreeable  word,  or  complain  of  anything, 
during  the  whole  of  this  long  illness.  I  have  sat  at 
the  table  night  after  night,  for  two  and  three  hours 
at  a  time,  and  heard  the  empress  and  the  Duchess  of 
Hamilton  talk  upon  every  imaginable  subject.  I  was 
amazed  at  the  profundity  and  the  universality  of  her 
knowledge.  We  talked  of  science,  of  politics,  of  re- 
ligion, of  philosophy,  of  art :  no  subject  escaped  her, 
and  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  how  much 
she  knew  of  individuals,  of  persons  that  she  never 
had  seen,  and  even  of  the  scandals  of  the  day.  The 
Duchess  of  Hamilton  remained  here  about  three  weeks, 
and  then  returned  to  Baden,  and  I  went  with  her,  and 
remained  there  until  the  month  of  October,  when  I  re- 
turned to  Paris,  and  took  up  my  abode  in  the  Rue  de 
Surene,  where  I  resided  in  1864,  and  part  of  1865. 

I  had  been  now  in  Paris  two  years  and  was  making  a 
very  comfortable  living.  So  far  as  that  was  concerned  I 
was  perfectly  satisfied.  I  was  one  of  those  benighted 
southerners  who  thought  that  the  war  between  the  States 
would  necessarily  result  in  a  dissolution  of  the  Union. 
After  Mr.  Lincoln  was  re-elected  president,  I  said  to  my- 
self, that  prolongs  the  war  for  another  four  years.  I 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  return  to  New  York  until  the 
war  should  be  ended ;  but  if  it  should  last  through 
another  administration  I  could  not  afford  to  remain  in 
Paris  and  educate  my  children  under  such  circumstances 
as  to  unfit  them  for  the  duties  of  life  at  home  ;  and  as  I 


336  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

felt  confident  that  the  war  would  be  prolonged  for  an- 
other four  years  I  determined  to  remove  to  London.  I 
went  to  London  and  took  the  advice  of  some  of  my 
Meade  there,  and  among  them  Air.  Ernest  Hart,  who 
said  that  he  thought  there  was  a  field  for  me ;  that  my 
name  was  well  known  to  the  profession  throughout  the 
country,  and  that,  if  I  would  contribute  to  the  medical 
journals  some  original  articles  on  my  peculiar  methods 
of  operating,  etc.,  he  thought  it  would  attract  sufficient 
attention. 

France  has  produced  many  great  surgeons,  but  I 
presume  that  Trousseau  was  the  most  distinguished  phy- 
:an  she  has  ever  had.  Some  years  ago.  at  one  of  the 
an nivers aides  of  the  "Woman's  Hospital,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Adams  made  an  Irese  to  the  board  of  lady  managers, 
and.  mentioning  the  handsome  things  said  of  the  hospi- 
tal and  its  management,  he  alluded  to  my  labor,  saying. 
"  AVhen  I  go  through  these  halls,  and  see  the  nurmV 
of  sick  women  who  have  been  restored  to  health  by 
the  marvelous  skill  of  your  surgeon,  after  long  years 
of  suffering  and  sorrow.  I  feel  sure  that  he  ought  to  be 
the  happiest  man  in  the  world.*'  I  saw  Dr.  Adams  a 
few  days  after  this  and  thanked  him  for  his  kind  words, 
and  said :  a  Your  conclusion  that  I  was  one  of  the  hap- 
piest men  in  the  world  was  correct,  but  your  premises 
were  not.  I  am  one  of  the  happiest  men  in  the  world, 
but  it  is  not  because  I  cure  these  poor  people  who 
would  never  have  been  cured  but  for  my  labors  and  my 


TROUSSEAU.  337 

discoveries  and  inventions.  It  is  because  I  am  happy  at 
home."  And  I  illustrated  this  by  telling  him  of  the 
great  Trousseau,  one  of  the  greatest  physicians  of  the 
age,  a  man  endowed  with  physical  beauty  as  well  as  fine 
intellect,  the  philosophic  physician,  the  classical  littera- 
teur, the  elegant  teacher,  the  successful  practitioner.  He 
was  without  a  rival.  I  had  never  known  such  a  grand 
man  who  was  purely  a  physician  ;  and  yet  he  was  a  very 
miserable  man,  and  why?  Had  he  not  reached  the 
highest  distinction  in  his  profession  ?  Had  'he  not  the 
largest  following  of  students  at  the  Hotel  Dieu  ?  Was 
he  not  exhibited  as  the  highest  authority  in  medicine 
all  over  the  world?  His  lectures  were  translated  into 
all  languages;  he  was  read  and  esteemed  as  much  in 
England  and  America  as  in  France  and  elsewhere  on 
the  Continent;  and  then  he  was  the  leading  practi- 
tioner, the  great  consultant,  the  fashionable  doctor  in 
Paris,  and  had  accumulated  a  large  fortune.  Everybody 
spoke  well  of  him ;  everybody  admired  him  as  a  man ; 
his  private  character  was  above  all  reproach;  he  had 
no  children  whom  he  could  not  recognize  as  his  own, 
as  unfortunately  too  often  is  seen  in  Paris  among  the 
highest  classes.  As  the  world  saw  the  man,  they  had 
the  right  to  think  and  to  say  that  he  ought  to  be  one 
of  the  happiest  of  men.  True,  he  was  not  court  physi- 
cian. Smaller  men,  men  far  inferior  to  him  in  every 
point  of  view,  occupied  this  high  position,  but  every 
other  ambition  of  his  life  had  been  fully  gratified ;  and 
yet  he  was  unhappy,  and  why?     His  wife  was  an  ele- 


338  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

gant  and  accomplished  woman,  of  great  beauty  and  fine 
intellect,  but  they  were  separated.  He  had  a  daughter, 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  in  Paris,  who  mar- 
ried a  man  too  much  her  senior.  They  were  incompat- 
ible and  separated.  He  had  an  only  son,  who  was  a 
spape-grace.  He  was  a  gambler  and  everything  else 
that  was  bad.  His  father  was  worried  to  death  with 
his  dissoluteness  and  foolish  extravagance,  and  had  to 
pay  enormous  sums  of  money  to  extricate  him  from  his 
disgraceful  orgies  and  gambling  complications.  He  was 
married  to  a  fine  woman,  who  ought  to  have  made  any 
man  happy,  but  he  neglected  and  made  her  miserable. 
How,  then,  could  the  great,  the  good  Trousseau  have 
been  happy  with  such  unhappy  family  surroundings? 
No !  rest  assured  if  there  is  any  real  happiness  in  this 
world  it  must  be  in  the  home,  in  the  family  circle,  and 
not  alone  in  public  applause. 

In  October,  1863,  I  was  in  attendance  on  Mrs.  ^  , 
daughter  of  Mr.  W.  "W*.  Corcoran,  the  banker-philan- 
thropist of  Washington.  She  had  a  long,  serious  illness, 
and  I  called  Trousseau  and  my  friend  Sir  Joseph  Olliffe 
in  consultation.  Trousseau,  unlike  most  French  doctors, 
was  always  punctual  to  the  minute.  Sir  Joseph  and 
myself,  who  were  united  in  our  admiration  of  the  man, 
always  asked  him  to  appoint  an  hour  of  the  next  day 
to  suit  his  convenience.  On  one  occasion  he  said,  "  Well, 
gentlemen,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  to- 
morrow at  thirteen  minutes  after  four."  We  accepted 
the  hour,  but  I  thought  to  myself  a  Yankee  or  New 


TROUSSEAU  AND  MRS.  STEWART.  339 

York  man  would  have  said  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  after 
four  and  not  thirteen.  The  next  day  I  observed  closely, 
and  sure  enough  Trousseau  was  exactly  on  time.  I 
afterward  took  the  liberty  of  asking  him  why  he  ap- 
pointed the  consultation  at  thirteen  instead  of  fifteen 
minutes  after  four.  He  took  it  in  good  part  and  said, 
"  Well,  I  knew  I  would  leave  my  office  at  such  an 
hour  for  such  a  place ;  that  I  would  surely  get  through 
my  consultation  there  at  four,  and  that  it,  would  take 
my  coachman  less  than  fifteen  minutes  and  more  than 
ten  minutes  to  drive  here.  Indeed,  I  knew  it  would 
take  just  thirteen  minutes,  as  I  had  several  times  timed 
him,  and  so  I  made  the  appointment  accordingly  and 
not  from  any  affected  eccentricity.  Time  is  too  pre- 
cious to  be  wasted,  and  two  minutes  here  and  there, 
when  added  together,  are  often  of  much  value  in  our 
work."  With  all  Trousseau's  grand  qualities  of  head 
and  heart  he  had  also  his  little  weaknesses. 

In  September,  1861,  I  met  the  Stewart  family,  of 
Mobile,  in  Paris.  There  were  many  Southern  refugees 
there  during  our  great  civil  war.  Mrs.  Stewart  had  a 
severe  attack  of  bronchitis  and  asked  me  to  prescribe 
for  her.  She  was  at  the  Hotel  Yendome.  I  said,  "  It 
is  better  to  send  for  some  physician  who  is  familiar 
with  the  endemic  condition  of  the  climate.  Send  for 
the  best;  send  for  Trousseau."  "But,"  said  Mrs.  Stew- 
art, "  I  would  like  to  do  so  but  he  is  such  a  great  man, 
and  so  busy,  I  fear  he  would  not  respond  to  a  stranger 
at  a  hotel."     I  said,  "  I  will  go  for  him  myself,  and  I 


3^0  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

am  sure  lie  will  come  and  see  you."  So  I  went.  He 
then  lived  in  the  Eue  Basse-du-Eempart.  His  consult- 
in  or  rooms  were  crowded  bj  fashionable,  well-dressed 
people.  I  sent  in  my  card  and  he  saw  me  at  once.  T 
told  him  my  message,  and  he  went  to  see  Mrs.  Stewart 
at  the  hour  appointed.  He  examined  her  closely,  aus- 
cultated her  lungs,  and  said  she  was  not  seriously  ill, 
that  she  was  undergoing  a  climatizing  process,  which 
would  run  its  course  in  a  few  days,  that  it  could  not 
be  cut  short,  but  would  terminate  at  such  and  such  a 
period.  In  the  mean  time  he  would  look  in  on  her  in 
two  or  three  days,  to  see  what  progress  she  was  mak- 
ing, and  guard  her  against  any  accidental  complications, 
which  possibly  might  arise,  but  which  he  did  not  an- 
ticipate ;  and  he  ended  by  writing  an  order  for  asses' 
milk,  "which  is  to  be  sent  to  12  Rue  de  Surene;  and 
he  said  that  the  asses  would  be  driven  to  the  door 
of  the  hotel  to-morrow  morning  at  seven  o'clock,  and 
that  she  must  drink  a  pint  of  the  milk  warm  at  break- 
fast. TTith  this  he  rose  to  leave,  and  Mrs.  Stewart  bade 
him  good-by,  with  thanks  for  his  kindly  courtesy,  and 
laid  the  fee  in  his  hand.  At  this  moment  Mrs.  Stew- 
art's youngest  daughter,  about  eight  or  nine  years  old, 
a  charming  little  spoiled  child,  who  was  very  anxious 
about  her  sick  mother,  ran  up  to  the  doctor  and  caught 
him  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "Doctor,  ain't  you  going 
to  give  my  mamma  any  medicine;  nothing  but  asses' 
milk  ? "  "  No,  no,  my  child  ;  nothing  else  ;  your  mother 
needs  no  medicine."     "  Why,  I  never  saw  such  a  doctor, 


DEATH  OF  TROUSSEAU.  341 

a  doctor  like  you.  I  thought  you  were  such  a  great 
doctor  you  would  give  my  mother  some  medicine  and 
cure  her  quick.  I  never  heard  of  a  doctor  just  giving 
asses'  milk  and  nothing  but  asses'  milk.  That  ain't 
going  to  cure  her."  The  great  man's  pride  was  doubly 
wounded  by  this  persistent  little  child,  who  dared  to 
assault  his  dignity  and  to  question  his  skill;  and  he 
pushed  her  away  gently  and  walked  off,  evidently  much 
hurt  by  this  little  American  enfant  terrible.  Trous- 
seau did  not  return  to  see  Mrs.  Stewart.  She  sent  for 
him  two  or  three  days  afterward,  but  he  didn't  respond 
to  the  call.  He  doubtless  justified  his  conscience  from 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  suffering  from  a  malady 
that  would  run  its  course  without  endangering  her  life. 
In  the  autumn  of  1866  it  was  known  that  Trousseau's 
health  was  failing.  On  ^New-Year's  day,  1867,  his  friend, 
Sir  Joseph  Olliffe,  went  to  see  him,  and  found  him  very 
much  changed.  He  said,  "  Sir  Joseph,  I  have  carcinoma 
of  the  pylorus,  and  of  course  my  days  are  numbered.  I 
can  now  take  nothing  but  milk.  It  is  now  a  war  between 
waste  and  supply,  and  I  have  been  making  a  calculation 
of  the  probable  time  of  the  end,  and  I  think  I  shall  last 
until  about  the  20th  of  June."  He  died  within  a  week 
or  ten  days  of  this  date.  He  was  a  philosopher  and  died 
like  one,  but  how  embittered  must  have  been  his  last 
days.  He  had  not  seen  his  son  for  a  long  time  before 
he  died.  About  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  before  this 
event  his  son  went  to  one  of  the  gambling  hells  of  Paris 
and  lost  all  his  money,  and  more  than  he  could  pay  be- 


312  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

sides.  He  became  desperate,  rushed  madly  from  the 
scene  of  disaster  determined  to  end  his  miserable  exist- 
ence ;  but,  on  second  thought,  he  concluded,  when  he  got 
into  the  cool  way  of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  to  write 
parting  liues  to  his  wife  and  mother.  On  reaching  his 
apartment  he  accordingly  wrote  to  each  that  he  had  been 
unworthy  of  them,  and  that  he  would  be  no  more  by  the 
time  they  received  his  notes.  They  naturally  supposed 
that  he  had  committed  suicide.  His  poor  father  died 
soon  after  this,  and  his  unworthy  son  saw  a  notice  of  his 
death  in  a  London  paper  the  next  day ;  and  I  saw  the 
tall,  handsome,  wretched  man  bending  heart-broken  over 
his  great  father's  coffin  in  the  Madeleine,  whence  he  fol- 
lowed it  to  its  final  resting-place  in  the  Pere  Lachaise. 
We  are  happy  or  unhappy  in  this  life,  as  our  children 
choose  to  make  us.  The  joys,  amenities,  and  pleasures 
of  home,  with  health,  make  life  worth  living.  But  these 
must  abound  and  be  enjoyed  by  all  who  come  in  contact 
with  us.  We  must  not  only  be  happy  in  our  own  homes, 
but  must  do  all  the  good  we  can  outside  of  these  and  try 
to  make  others  happy  too. 


CHAPTEE  XXI. 

Letters  from  Dublin  and  Paris  to  my  wife — Social  Science  Congress — Made 
knight  of  the  Order  of  Leopold  the  First — Military  review  in  Dublin — 
Ignorance  of  French  surgeons — Operations  in  Paris  and  London — The 
political  situation  in  America. 

Dublin,  August  18,  1861. 

Here  I  am  again  in  my  beloved  Dublin.     The  Social 

Science  Congress  is  in  session,  under  the  presidency  of 

Mr.  Brigham,  and  yesterday  afternoon  all  its  members 

were  invited  out  to  Phoenix  Park  and  entertained  at  the 

Zoological  Gardens.     About  five  o'clock  p.  m.  Pratt  and 

I  were  sauntering  along  one  of  the  graded  walks  of  the 

beautiful  garden,  when  who   should  meet  us   but  my 

old  friend  Sir  "William  Wilde,  the  great  oculist  of  that 

day  and  time.     He  was  not  expecting  to  see  me.     He 

stopped  suddenly,  letting  drop  the  lady's  arm  that  was 

leaning  on  his,  and  raising  both  hands  aloft  he  exclaimed, 

"  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  is  that  you,  you  great  unshaved 

humbug  !  "     (I  had  not   shaved,  true  enough,  that  day.) 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?    Well,  well,  come  and  dine 

with  us  this  evening."     "  At  what  hour  ? "  said  I.     "  At 

six  o'clock,  sharp  six."    Looking  at  my  watch  and  seeing 

it  was  only  forty-five  minutes  from  that  moment,  I  said, 

"My  dear  sir,  that  would  be  impossible.     I  would  be 


344  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

most  happy  to  do  so,  but  I  have  not  time  to  go  to  the 
hotel  and  fix  up  and  put  on  a  dress-coat."  "  But,"  said 
he,  "  who  the  devil  cares  about  the  coat  %  It  is  you  that  I 
want,  and  as  for  your  coat  you  may  pull  it  off  and  hang 
it  on  the  back  of  the  chair ;  and  you  may  turn  your 
breeches  wrong  side  out  if  you  will,  but  I  must  insist  on 
your  wearing  them."  So  he  invited  Dr.  Pratt  to  go  with 
us,  and  we  arrived  there  a  few  minutes  after  the  appoint- 
ed time.  After  dinner  we  all  went  to  the  reception  given 
by  the  president  of  the  Royal  Irish  Academy  to  the  So- 
cial Science  Congress  in  the  halls  of  the  Irish  Academy. 
There  was  a  perfect  jam.  Everybody  was  there.  Lady 
Wilde  turned  over  a  young  widow  to  me  and  a  young 
lady  to  Dr.  Pratt.  The  widow  and  myself  got  along  fa- 
mously, but  Tom  and  his  partner  were  not  very  sympa- 
thetic. She  was  a  strong-minded  woman,  who  was  devis- 
ing ways  and  means  of  elevating  her  sex,  opening  up  new 
channels  of  occupation  for  young  unmarried  women  ;  a 
radical  in  politics,  pitching  into  slavery  particularly,  and 
wishing  to  reform  the  world  generally.  And  poor  Dr. 
Pratt  had  to  stick  to  her  the  whole  evening.  She  pa- 
raded him  up  and  down,  and  when  he,  too,  had  on  a  pair 
of  boots  that  pinched  his  toes  unmercifully.  He  tried  to 
seat  her,  but  she  would  not  be  seated.  They  were  gen- 
erally close  to  the  widow  and  myself,  and  the  young  lady 
and  myself  occasionally  had  a  cut  and  thrust.  On  one 
occasion  she  was  wondering  at  my  youthful  appearance. 
I  insisted  that  I  was  but  thirty.  She  said,  "  You  must 
have  been  married  very  young."     "  Oh  no,  not  very  ;  I 


SOCIAL  SCIENCE  CONGRESS.  345 

was  twenty-four,"  said  I.  "  How  old  was  your  wife  ? " 
"  She  was  nearly  twenty-one  years,  quite  old  enough  to 
get  married.  "  But,"  she  said,  "  young  ladies  very  often 
marry  much  younger  in  America."  I  said,  "  Yes,  often 
as  young  as  seventeen  or  eighteen."  "  Still,"  she  replied, 
"  they  grow  after  marriage."  I  said  in  the  most  innocent 
way  imaginable,  "  You  would  be  surprised  to  see  how 
some  of  them  grow  in  the  course  of  one  short  year." 
Just  at  this  moment  Sir  William  came  rushing  up  and 
hurried  me  off  to  the  lord-lieutenant,  as  everybody  calls 
him.  He  is  a  courtly-looking  gentleman,  about  fifty-five 
or  six.  On  being  introduced,  I  found  myself  trying  to 
bow  as  much  in  the  stiff  Northern  style  as  I  possibly 
could,  but  the  princely  old  fellow  took  the  starch  out  of 
me  at  once,  for  he  held  out  his  hand  and  shook  mine  in 
the  most  cordial  Southern  way.  .  .  . 

On  Monday  we  went  to  the  Social  Science  Congress 
meeting,  and  saw  and  heard  Lord  Brougham  and  others, 
and  at  night  we  went  to  a  reception  given  by  the  lord- 
lieutenant  in  Dublin  Castle.  It  was  a  grand  affair. 
The  enormous  suites  of  apartments,  corridors,  etc,  were 
filled  with  well-dressed  gentry,  with  now  and  then  a 
sprinkling  of  nobility,  but  the  latter  could  not  be  distin- 
guished from  the  former  unless  pointed  out  by  some  one 
who  knew.  The  lord-mayor  was  there,  wearing  his  in- 
signia of  office,  a  massive  gold  chain  as  large  as  the  little 
finger,  around  the  neck.  It  is  external  to  the  coat  and  is 
passed  around  three  times  and  looks  at  a  little  distance 
nearly  as  wide  as  the  hand.     The  Earl  of  Carlisle,  the 


34:6  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

lord-lieutenant,  who  gave  the  entertainment,  had  hang- 
ing from  his  neck  some  sort  of  ornament  two  or  three 
inches  in  diameter  which  was  a  mass  of  diamonds.  I 
didn't  notice  it  until  the  lady  who  accompanied  me  called 
my  attention  to  it  after  he  passed.  On  being  introduced 
to  him,  he  said,  "  O,  I  remember  you  very  well,  Dr. 
Sims,  having  seen  you  on  Saturday  evening  at  the 
Academy."  He  is  the  man  for  the  place.  He  has  a  kind 
Word  for  everybody  and  makes  everybody  feel  easy.  As 
he  moved  off,  being  pushed  on  by  the  crowd  that  was 
pressing  behind,  he  called  out,  "  You  are  going  in  the 
right  direction  if  you  wish  to  see  the  Yankees."  I  did 
not  understand  his  meaning,  but  it  was  explained  when  I 
met  some  familiar  looking,  close  fitting  caps  and  straight 
jackets.  After  we  had  passed  a  little  distance  the  widow 
said,  "  You  must  be,  I  am  sure,  a  very  distinguished  man, 
if  I  may  judge  from  the  lord-lieutenant's  kind  recep- 
tion of  you."  I  told  her,  "  He  remembers  me  by  the 
brief  conversation  last  Saturday  night  on  the  subject  of 
the  distracted  state  of  my  country."  I  tell  you  all  these 
little  things  because  I  know  you  are  more  interested  in 
my  personal  adventures  and  experiences  than  in  any  en- 
cyclopedian  account  of  cities,  rivers,  mountains,  statues, 
etc.  Lords  and  ladies  look  at  home  much  the  same  as 
any  of  us.  The  Earl  of  Carlisle  is  very  prepossessing  in 
appearance  and  manner.  The  lower  part  of  his  face  is 
not  handsome ;  the  upper  is.  He  is  graceful  and  affable, 
and  is  said  to  be  very  large-hearted.  Lord  Brougham  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  now  living  in  the  king- 


A  RIDE  WITH  A  WIDOW.  347 

dom.  He  is  eighty-two  years  old,  and  is  the  perfect 
counterpart  of  old  Father  Bears  and  the  Kev.  Mr.  Bangs, 
of  the  Methodist  Church.  Lord  Talbot  de  Mahilide 
looks  like  a  good  Southern  planter. 

To  go  back  to  the  widow  and  the  party.  We  had  a 
very  pleasant  evening.  She  pointed  out  to  me  the  digni- 
taries and  magnates,  and  occasionally  showed  me  some 
good-looking  fellow  that  she  had  jilted  because  she  could 
not  help  it.  She  married  an  old  man  for  his  money, 
who  died  in  good  time  and  left  her  eight  hundred  a  year. 
Eight  hundred  a  year  is  no  mean  sum  here.  One  of  my 
doctor  friends  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder,  as  we  were 
walking  along,  and  whispered,  "  You  have  got  a  widow 
with  eight  hundred  a  year."  She  had  married  for  money, 
and  now  she  was  about  to  be  paid  off  by  so  many  willing 
to  marry  her  for  money.  Lady  Wilde  told  me  she  had 
refused  forty-six  young  men  last  year,  some  of  them  ten 
years  her  junior.  I  know  you  are  tired  of  the  widow, 
but  I  must  tell  you  one  more  incident :  As  we  went 
home  in  a  cab  at  midnight  she  took  regular  hysterics  on 
account  of  the  cabman  driving  so  fast.  She  cried  out, 
"  Stop  the  cabman  ;  he  is  driving  too  fast !  "  She  was 
sitting  on  a  back  seat,  and  the  young  lady  and  myself 
were  in  front.  I  tried  to  quiet  her.  She  didn't  swoon, 
for  I  was  not  sitting  by  her  and  of  course  there  was  no 
chance  for  her  to  fall  into  my  arms.  The  more  I  tried 
to  pacify  her  the  less  pacified  she  got.  There  was  no 
reason,  no  sense  in  her  carrying  on.  I  got  tired  of  it  and 
laughed   at   her  fears   most   heartily.      She   said   these 


348  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

drunken  cabmen  often  turn  over  their  cabs  and  break  the 
people's  necks.  And  she  said  Mr.  So-and-so  had  his  leg 
broken  and  suffered  terribly.  "  Oh,"  said  I,  "  what  a 
lucky  fellow.  Just  to  think  what  a  happy  man  to  get 
his  leg  broken,  so  that  he  could  lie  up  at  home  away  from 
the  troubles  of  business,  and  have  his  wife  to  pet  him." 
"  But,"  said  she  "  I  have  got  nobody  to  pet  me  if  my  leg 
is  broken."  "  But,"  said  I,  "  I  will  pet  you  if  you  get 
your  leg  broken.  I  will  rub  it  and  stroke  it,  and  splint 
it  and  bandage  it,  and  cure  it  up  so  nicely  for  you  that 
you  will  almost  be  willing  to  have  the  other  leg  broken." 
This  killed  all  her  hysterics,  and  brought  her  to  her 
senses.  She  laughed  outright,  and  said  I  was  the  oddest 
fellow  she  ever  met.  I  made  this  discovery :  That  the 
way  to  cure  hysterics  in  a  widow  with  eight  hundred  a 
year  is  to  talk  about  rubbing  her  leg.  Whether  rubbing 
it  will  cure  it  or  not,  I  really  do  not  know. 

You  can't  imagine  how  many  people  are  talking  to 
me  about  settling  in  London.  I  have  not  the  remotest 
idea  of  ever  leaving  New  York,  but  would  you  believe  it, 
that  more  than  two  prominent  doctors  have  insisted  on 
my  going  to  London.  The  great  Syme,  of  Edinburgh, 
told  me  that  if  I  would  go  to  London  to  live  he  would 
insure  me  more  than  I  could  make  in  New  York,  with 
less  labor.  And  a  few  nights  ago  I  was  introduced  to  a 
physician  here,  who  told  me  that  London  was  the  place 
for  me  ;  that  they  need  such  a  man  there  as  I  am.  Com- 
pliments certainly !  And  yesterday  Sir  William  Wilde 
said  that  if  I  would  go  to  London  and  settle  down  that  I 


KNIGHT  OF  THE  ORDER  OF  LEOPOLD.         349 

would  make  a  fortune.  But  don't  fear.  I  have  not  the 
remotest  idea  of  it.  New  York  has  done  well  by  me  and 
I  will  stick  to  her  just  as  long  as  she  will  let  me.  The 
queen  arrived  here  this  morning.  I  have  missed  seeing 
her,  and  will  go  to  the  Curragh,  an  hour's  ride  by  mail,  to 
see  her  review  the  troops  to-morrow.  Failing  to  lay  eyes 
on  the  blessed  woman  to-day,  I  thought  it  would  be  very 
unloyal  not  to  sacrifice  one  day  to  testify  my  admiration 
for  this  purest  of  women  and  best  of  queens. 

I  have  already  said  that  I  was  treated  very  kindly 
by  Derolebaix,  surgeon  to  the  King  of  Belgium,  and  the 
other  members  of  the  profession  whom  I  met  in  Brussels 
when  I  went  over  to  wait  for  the  vesico-vaginal  fistula 
in  their  hospitals.  And  I  have  mentioned  the  fact  that 
they  have  elected  me  corresponding  Fellow  of  the  Royal 
Academy  of  Medicine,  and  they  recommended  my  name 
to  the  government  for  Knight  of  the  Order  of  Leo- 
pold the  First.  I  then  never  had  any  public  recogni- 
tions abroad,  and  not  many  at  home,  and  of  course  I 
was  exceedingly  anxious  to  obtain  this  from  the  Bel- 
gian government.  Of  course  this  must  go  through  a 
certain  form  before  the  end  can  be  reached.  After  I 
had  been  at  home  about  a  month,  say  about  the  1st  of 
February,  1862,  I  received  notice  from  Brussels  that 
the  government  had  created  me  a  Knight  of  the  Or- 
der of  Leopold  the  First.  Whenever  any  European 
government  confers  such  an  honor  on  a  foreigner  it 
must,  as  a  matter  of  course,  be  through  the  minister 
representing  his  government.      At  that  time  Mr.   San- 


350  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

ford  was  the  American  minister  at  the  Court  of  Brus- 
sels, and  he  objected  to  my  receiving  this  honor,  and 
gave  as  a  reason  that  I  was  a  rebel  and  an  enemy  of 
my  country,  and  therefore  was  not  entitled  to  any  honor 
of  the  sort,  even  when  conferred  for  scientific  claims. 
I  was  exceedingly  mortified  when  I  heard  this  news, 
and  immediately  determined  if  possible  to  circumvent 
Mr.  Sanford.  Mr.  Henry  J.  Raymond,  of  the  "  Times, " 
had  always  been  my  friend,  from  my  first  experience 
in  New  York.  He  had  been  a  friend  of  the  Woman's 
Hospital  movement ;  he  was  one  of  its  advocates  and 
advisers;  Mrs.  Raymond  was  one  of  the  first  lady-mana- 
gers and  had  always  taken  a  deep  interest  in  it  and  in 
me.  Mr.  Raymond  was  then  all-powerful  with  the  au- 
thorities at  Washington.  I  thought  that  I  would  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  speak  to  him,  and  that  he  would 
write  to  Mr.  Seward,  and  that  through  his  agency  I 
would  receive  the  honor  that  I  so  much  coveted.  My 
political  sentiments  were  never  hidden  from  anybody, 
but  I  was  not  a  politician,  and  could  not  help  my  sen- 
timents. I  had  a  conversation  with  Dr.  Horace  Green, 
who  was  a  warm  personal  friend  of  Mr.  Raymond's.  Dr. 
Green,  at  a  family  dinner  party,  invited  Mr.  Raymond 
and  myself  there,  with  the  view  of  giving  me  an  op- 
portunity of  speaking  to  Mr.  Raymond,  after  dinner,  on 
the  subject  which  was  so  near  my  heart.  After  I  had 
laid  the  whole  story  before  Mr.  Raymond,  telling  all 
that  he  knew,  that  I  was  a  southern  sympathizer,  but 
yet,  as  a  man  of  science  and  as  a  citizen  of  New  York, 


INTERVIEW  WITH  MR.  RAYMOND.  351 

as  loyal  to  the  Government  as  he  himself  was,  I  wished 
him  to  bring  his  influence  to  bear  on  the  Secretary  of 
State,  Mr.  Seward,  so  that  I  could  obtain  the  honor  I 
wanted.  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  so  surprised  in  all 
my  life  as  when,  after  hearing  my  story  and  request, 
he  turned  sharply  on  me  and  said :  "  I  don't  think  any 
man  holding  the  sentiments  that  you  do  has  any  right 
to  expect  any  favors  of  any  sort  from  the  Government 
under  existing  circumstances."  I  detail  this  to  show 
what  bitterness  and  unreasonableness  existed  in  the 
minds  of  the  great  leaders  of  that  day  and  time.  I 
never  obtained  the  honorable  order  from  the  Belgian 
government  until  the  summer  of  1880,  when  my  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  W.  Graham  Sandford,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Sand- 
ford,  who  was  then  Secretary  of  Legation  of  the  Brit- 
ish Embassy  at  Brussels,  laid  the  facts  before  the  min- 
ister of  state  that  I  have  already  detailed,  and  the  Gov- 
ernment then  granted  me  the  honor,  which  was  ac- 
cepted by  Mr.  James  O.  Putnam,  then  representing  the 
American  Government  at  the  Court  of  Belgium. 

Dublin,  August  25,  1861. 

The  queen  arrived  here  yesterday,  on  her  way  to  visit 
the  troops  at  the  Curragh.  I  thought  it  would  be  too 
bad  to  leave  without  laying  eyes  on  the  little  woman.  I 
did  not  happen  to  see  her  driving  around  town,  and  my 
disappointment  determined  me  at  once  to  remain  here 
and  go  to  the  review  at  the  Curragh.  Yesterday,  the 
24th,  was  the  grand  review  of  the  troops  there,  some 


352  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  from  Dublin,  on  the  road 
toward  Cork.  The  Curragh  is  a  great  camp  for  training 
soldiers.  The  barracks  make  quite  a  town  of  one-story 
houses  on  either  side  of  the  central  street,  a  mile  and  a 
half  long.  The  occasion  was  a  grand  one:  everybody 
was  there.  It  is  said  that  there  are  from  eighteen  to 
twenty  thousand  troops,  and  there  was  an  immense 
throng  of  spectators.  The  day,  for  Ireland,  was  a  fine 
one — for  us  it  would  have  been  called  bad.  It  rained 
very  hard  twice  during  the  parade,  which  lasted  from  ten 
to  three.  People  here  don't  mind  getting  wet.  I 
learned  to  stand  and  take  it  like  an  Irishman.  I  never 
wanted  a  horse  as  badly  in  my  life.  If  I  had  been 
mounted,  I  could  have  charged  over  and  around  the 
Curragh  in  any  direction  with  the  others.  I  can  imagine 
very  well  that  in  battle  men  mav  forget  themselves  in 

ml  m/  _ 

leading  a  charge,  for  we  had  all  the  excitement  of  battle 
without  the  carnage.  We  saw  the  commanding  general 
on  an  eminence  in  the  distance,  glass  in  hand,  surveying 
the  field.    He  was  surrounded  by  hie  staff.    Presently 

aid  was  flying  on  his  charger,  as  swift  as  the  wind,  gave 
an  order,  and  instantly  thousands  of  soldiers  were  in  mo- 
tion, changing  the  whole  scene,  and  in  a  very  short  space 
of  time  another  and  another  aid  would  be  sent  in  another 
direction,  which  soon  wheeled  the  serried  columns  of 
infantry,  changing  the  position  of  flying  artillery,  or  mov- 
ing light  dragoons,  so  rapidly  that  the  whole  column, 
more  than  a  mile  long,  was  soon  placed  at  right  angle ;  *  a 
its  former  position.    We  had  the  booming  of  cannon,  the 


A  REVIEW.  353 

rattling  volleys  of  infantry,  the  terrific  charge  of  thou- 
sands of  dragoons.  The  noise  of  these  was  like  thunder, 
and  seemed  to  me  would  be  dreadful  in  an  open  plain  in 
attacking  ranks  of  infantry.  There  were  many  ladies 
and  gentlemen  on  horseback.  They  didn't  care  at  all  for 
the  rain,  though  it  poured  in  torrents  for  a  little  while. 
They  seemed  all  excitement,  and  were  charging  in  all 
directions,  not  fearing  cannon,  musketry,  or  anything 
else.  .  .  .  But  to  return  to  the  Curragh.  You  ask,  did  I 
see  the  queen?  "When  we  stopped  first  to  survey  the 
line  of  soldiers,  we  were  on  an  eminence  about  the  center 
of  a  great  plain,  which  is  continually  undulated,  and  so 
uneven  in  some  places  as  to  hide  the  movements  of  the 
troops — all  hill  and  dale.  After  nearly  three  hours  of 
standing,  talking,  and  gazing  at  the  waves  of  soldiers,  I 
said  to  a  gentleman  accompanying  me,  "  I  came  here  ex- 
pressly to  see  the  queen.  I  have  stopped  three  days  for 
that  purpose.  I  fear  I  shall  be  disappointed."  "  No,  you 
won't,"  said  he,  "here  they  are  coming."  At  that  mo- 
ment the  guard  came  dashing  along,  followed  by  the 
queen's  carriage,  drawn  by  four  fine  bays  with  riders. 
The  carriage  was  open.  It  stopped  within  twenty  or 
thirty  steps  of  us,  with  the  right  side  toward  us.  They 
had  to  look  over  our  heads  to  see  the  charge  of  cavalry. 
The  queen  seemed  to  enjoy  the  scene  like  a  true  woman. 
Three  of  her  children  were  with  er,  one  on  her  left,  and 
the  other  two,  whom  I  could  not  see,  were  on  the  front 
seat.  They  were  all  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  and  be- 
haved themselves  quite  as  well  as  any  well-bred  ladies 


354  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

would  with  us.  The  queen  is  a  fine  looking  woman,  and 
were  I  an  Englishman  I  could  be  vociferously  eloquent 
with  her  as  my  theme.  Taking  her  in  all  the  relations 
of  life,  as  wife,  mother,  Christian,  and  queen,  no  such 
woman  ever  graced  the  throne  or  so  honored  her  sex; 
but,  poor  thing,  she  is  queen  and  therefore  not  free  to  do 
as  she  chooses  about  anything.  She  who  has,  nominally, 
great  power,  is  really  powerless.  Over  her  own  actions 
she  is  cramped  with  royal  formulas.  The  other  day  her 
servants  petitioned  her  to  go  on  a  picnic,  or  rather  she 
planned  a  picnic  excursion  for  them,  to  Wicklow,  a 
beautiful  region  of  country  not  far  from  Dublin,  and 
they  petitioned  her  to  allow  them  to  ride  in  open  Irish 
jaunting-cars,  instead  of  closed  carriages.  She  said,  "  Cer- 
tainly, ride  in  the  open  jaunting-cars.  I  should  like  the 
privilege  of  doing  so  myself,  if  the  British  people  would 
not  feel  outraged  by  it."  The  queen  was  accompanied 
by  the  prince  consort,  on  horseback.  I  have  never  seen 
a  finer  looking  man.  This  was  only  four  months  before 
his  death. 

Paris,  September  16,  1861. 

This  morning  we  went  to  the  Hopital  Lariboisiere, 
which  is  altogether  the  finest  hospital  I  have  ever  seen. 
MVe  had  been  following  Chassaignac  around  the  wards  for 
some  time,  and  just  as  he  got  through  he  turned  sudden- 
ly around  and  came  toward  me.  He  discovered  that  I 
was  a  stranger,  and,  bowing  and  stopping  a  moment,  his 
instrument  maker,  Mr.  Mathieu,  who  happened  to  be 
present,  introduced  me.     He  grasped  me  warmly  by  the 


IGNORANCE  OF  FRENCH  SURGEONS.     355 

hand  and  commenced,  "Ah!  Monsieur  Marion  Sims," 
and  he  talked  away  at  a  terrible  rate,  in  a  very  compli- 
mentary manner,  not  a  word  of  which  did  I  understand  ; 
but  the  students  and  doctors  all  gazed  at  my  confusion, 
as  if  I  had  been  nicely  dissected  or  was  undergoing  a 
brilliant  ecrasement.  He  was  exceedingly  polite  to  me, 
and  kept  me  by  his  side  for  the  two  hours  that  he  was 
lecturing  and  operating  in  the  amphitheatre.  I  learned 
something  from  him  about  the  use  of  the  ecraseur,  and 
I  confess  that  I  was  greatly  profited  by  what'I  saw. 

Paris,  Friday,  September  20,  1861. 

I  am  utterly  amazed  at  the  ignorance  of  French 
surgeons  on  some  subjects.  For  instance,  in  hospital 
practice  almost  all  cases  of  amputation  die.  I  am 
very  sure  I  see  the  true  cause,  and  if  I  had  time  I 
would  pitch  in  for  a  complete  revolution  in  the  art  of 
dressing  wounds  here.  Don't  repeat  this  to  anybody, 
for  it  looks  too  presumptuous ;  but  I  am  sure  that  the 
same  surgery  in  !New  York  would  be,  other  things 
being  equal,  attended  with  the  same  results  as  here. 
Everybody  is  kind  and  polite  to  me.  I  went  to  the 
Societe  de  Chirurgie  the  other  evening  with  the  great 
Chassaignac,  the  inventor  of  the  ecraseur.  He  lionized 
me  quite  as  much  as  I  could  comfortably  bear.  Fortu- 
nately for  me  it  was  all  in  French,  and  I  did  not  wince. 
Huguier,  the  man  I  mentioned  in  my  amputation  paper, 
has  been  very  polite  to  me,  and  I  am  to  operate  for 
vesico-vaginal  fistula  for  him,  at  the  Hopital  Beaujon, 


356  THE  STORY  OE  MY  LIFE. 

to-morrow  morning,  at  nine  o'clock.  To-day  I  am  at 
the  Hopital  St.  Louis,  by  invitation  of  Dr.  Yerneuil, 
who  invited  me  to  operate  there  on  a  case  next 
Monday  at  nine  o'clock — both  cases  just  bad  enough 
and  just  good  enough ;  would  not  have  them  other- 
wise. How  rejoiced  I  am  every  day  that  I  obeyed 
your  injunctions  in  coming  abroad.  I  only  wish  I 
had  more  time  here.  The  fields  are  rich,  the  harvest 
is  ripe.  I  have  prepared  my  amputation  paper,  and  it 
is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  translator.  Chassaignac 
will  read  it  on  Wednesday  next  before  the  surgical 
society,  and  on  Wednesday  following  he  will  read  my 
paper  on  vaginismus.  I  am  now  at  work  on  it ;  but 
as  I  have  only  a  few  minutes  more  to  get  this  off  in 
time,  I  will  drop  professional  subjects,  though  I  know 
I  can  not  interest  you  in  any  way  half  so  much  as  to 
tell  you  the  pleasant  and  profitable  things  that  daily 
occur  to  me,  whose  very  existence  is  wrapped  up  in 
your  own. 

Paris,  September  21f.,  1861. 

On  Saturday  we  operated  at  the  Hopital  Beaujon. 
It  was  difficult  for  anybody  else,  but  easy  for  me,  lasting 
thirty-five  minutes.  I  was  honored  by  the  presence  of 
Nelaton,  Gosselin,  Huguier,  and  Denonvilliers.  The 
operation  was  satisfactory  and  successful ;  and  when  Dr. 
Nelaton  bade  me  good-by,  and  thanked  me,  he  said  he 
had  been  very  much  surprised  to  hear  that  I  had  cured 
more  than  two  hundred  cases,  but  after  seeing  this  opera- 
tion he  was  not  at  all  surprised.   Dr.  Ordronoux,  of  New 


SURGICAL   CASES  AT  PARIS  HOSPITALS.        357 

York,  and  Dr.  Johnstone,  of  Paris,  interpreted  for  me. 
Yesterday  I  operated  at  the  Hopital  St.  Louis,  for  Yer- 
neuil,  before  a  very  large  class.  Dr.  Johnstone  inter- 
preted ;  and  to-day  I  was  waited  upon  by  Dr.  Pean,  who 
came  at  the  request  of  some  of  his  students  to  solicit  me 
to  operate  for  them  on  the  cadaver,  for  which  they 
offered  me  one  hundred  francs  apiece.  Of  course  I  de- 
clined the  money,  but  accepted  the  honor,  and  I  am  to  go 
to  Mont  Clair  on  Thursday  to  perform  the  operation. 

To-morrow  my  paper  will  be  read  before  the  Societe 
de  Chirurgie,  and  next  Wednesday  the  second  paper  will 
be  read. 

Paris,  October  2,  1861. 

My  two  surgical  cases  at  the  Beaujon  and  the  St. 
Louis  have  been  cured.  All  the  young  men  are  in 
ecstacies  about  them,  while  the  older  appear  to  be  sat- 
isfied. I  went  to  see  the  great  Civiale,  the  great  litho- 
triptist,  and  he  gave  me  letters  to  Munich,  Yienna, 
and  Berlin,  and  invited  me  to  operate  for  him  in  his 
wards.  He  said  he  had  no  case  just  now,  but  would  soon 
have  one  for  me.  This  morning  I  saw  Yelpeau  at  the 
Charite  for  the  first  time.  He  said  he  had  heard  a 
great  many  surgeons  speak  of  me  and  of  my  opera- 
tions, and  that  he  would  be  glad  to  see  me  operate, 
and  he  would  save  the  first  case  for  me  that  presented 
itself  at  the  Charite.  Frenchmen  don't  ask  strangers 
to  visit  them,  or  to  dine  or  breakfast  with  them,  as  do 
the  English  and  Americans ;  but  Dr.  Campbell,  who  is 
Scotch  by  birth,  invited  me  to  meet  Baker  Brown,  of 


358  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

London,  and  others  at  dinner  two  days  ago.  We  had 
a  glorious  social  English  dinner,  at  which  everybody 
spoke  French  but  myself.  Baker  Brown  said  that  he 
had  felt  quite  hurt  when  he  learned  I  had  passed 
through  London  without  calling  to  see  him.  He  is  a 
splendid  fellow,  but  the  greatest  blower  I  ever  met; 
belches  out  everything  he  knows,  and  thereby  shows 
there  are  many  things  he  does  not  know.  He  is  a 
cute,  cunning  fellow,  but  everybody  can  see  through 
him.  In  London  he  is  not  liked ;  he  is  looked  upon 
as  unreliable,  but  I  don't  think  they  do  him  justice. 
So  it  is !  A  man  may  have  a  few  eccentricities,  or  foi- 
bles, or  weaknesses,  and  he  is  like  a  poor  woman  with 
leucorrhcea — it  weakens  him  all  over.  I  also  met  another 
great  surgeon  of  London  yesterday,  Sir  Henry  Thomp- 
son, who  invited  me  to  operate  at  the  University  Hospi- 
tal, where  he  and  Erichsen  are  the  surgeons.  Of  course 
I  will  not  throw  away  such  an  opportuuity.  Besides 
this,  I  have  received  messages  from  other  surgeons  in 
London  to  make  them  a  visit.  I  called  on  Mr.  Day- 
ton, our  minister,  the  other  day.  He  is  a  very  elegant 
gentlemen.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  any  discretionary 
powers  in  issuing  passports,  or  if  he  was  obliged  to 
exact  the  oath  under  any  and  all  circumstances.  He 
said  he  had  no  discretionary  power  whatever,  and  at 
my  request  showed  me  a  copy  of  the  oath.  I  had  a 
very  pleasant  visit,  explained  to  him  that  everything  I 
had  in  the  world  in  the  shape  of  property  was  at  the 
South,  that  the  Confederate  Congress  had  passed  a  se- 


PLANS  FOR  RETURNING  HOME.  359 

questration  act,  and  that  I  could  not  in  justice  to  my 
wife  and  children  take  an  oath  that  would  result  in 
the  confiscation  of  all  I  had.  He  said  it  was  surely 
a  hard  case,  and  regretted  that  his  government  did  not 
allow  its  ministers  some  discretion  under  the  circum- 
stances, and  said  he  most  certainly  would  help  me  if 
he  could.  I  replied  that  I  was  an  honest  man,  could 
not  do  anything  that  was  not  honorable,  that  I  would 
not,  as  some  had  suggested,  go  by  way  of  Canada  and 
sneak  stealthily  home  by  some  unfrequented  route,  nor 
would  I  take  another  man's  passport  and  go  into  Bos- 
ton under  a  fictitious  name,  as  some  had  suggested,  but 
feeling  sure  of  my  honest  purpose,  being  wholly  incapa- 
ble of  the  slightest  treasonable  act,  I  had  determined 
to  go  home  like  an  honest  man,  fearing  no  harm ;  for 
it  is  true  that  "  the  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth." 

Paris,   October  18,  1861  {Friday). 

This  18th  of  October,  1861,  has  not  by  any  means 
been  the  happiest  day  of  my  life,  but,  with  perhaps 
three  exceptions,  the  proudest.  The  first  exception 
was  the  day,  the  23d  day  of  July,  1833,  on  which  you 
gave  me  the  rose-bud  through  the  garden  fence.  We 
were  then  young  and  alone ;  there  were  none  to  approve 
or  condemn.  A  few  seemingly  long  years  rolled  tar- 
dily over  and  at  last  brought  the  second  era,  the  hap- 
py day,  the  21st  of  December,  1836,  on  which  you  be- 
came my  wife.  Family  and  friends  were  there  to  yield 
assent.     Many  perfectly  happy  years  passed  rapidly,  and, 


360  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

together  we  climbed  up  the  hill  of  life  until,  almost  at 
the  top,  came  the  first  anniversary  of  the  Woman's 
Hospital,  the  9th  of  February,  1856.  You  were  not 
there,  but  New  York  was,  and  from  that  day  your 
husband's  American  reputation  was  fixed,  and  your  hopes 
were  fulfilled,  and  your  ambition  gratified. 

To-day  Yelpeau,  Nelaton,  Civiale,  Eicord,  Chassai- 
gnac,  Follin,  Huguier,  Debout,  Baron  Larrey,  Sir  Joseph 
Olliffe,  Campbell,  Johnstone,  and  many  others  honored 
me  with  their  presence  at  the  Hotel  Yoltaire,  Quai  Yol- 
taire,  No.  19.  I  had  one  of  the  most  difficult  operations  I 
ever  performed.  The  patient  was  a  very  bad  one,  short, 
fat,  and  nervous.  Chloroform  was  administered  by  Dr. 
Johnstone.  It  acted  very  badly;  the  patient  became 
slightly  hysterical,  and  uncontrollable,  and  chloroform  was 
for  a  while  suspended.  Some  thought  it  dangerous  to 
continue  it;  to  stop  it  was  to  stop  the  operation.  Yelpeau 
strongly  advised  against  continuing  to  give  it,  but  John- 
stone proceeded,  and  gave  enough  to  produce  quiet,  and 
the  operation  was  performed.  It  took  about  forty  min- 
utes. It  was  one  of  the  most  difficult  that  could  be. 
Everybody  was  delighted  except  me.  I  never  had  so 
many  obstacles  present  at  one  time  in  any  one  case.  I 
have  had  as  bad  patients,  but  then  the  operation  was  not 
so  difficult ;  and  I  have  had  a  few  as  difficult,  but  they 
were  in  docile  patients ;  but  here  everything  was  wrong 
except  my  presence  of  mind  and  confidence.  But  all 
obstacles  were  so  quietly  and  so  thoroughly  overcome 
that  everybody  congratulated  me  on  encountering  them. 


MY  DOMESTIC  AFFECTIONS.  361 

The  triumph  is  complete,  and  you  may  feel  secure  as  to 
the  full  and  perfect  recognition  of  my  claims  throughout 
all  Europe.  Not  only  now,  but  often  while  I  sit  in  the 
midst  of  the  decorated  savants  of  this  great  city,  my 
thoughts  turn  instinctively  to  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  who, 
as  the  mother  of  my  children,  is  a  thousand  times  dearer 
to  me  than  she  was  in  the  spring-time  of  life,  as  the  play- 
mate of  my  childhood  and  the  idol  of  my  youth.  To 
your  gentle  care  and  loving  kindness  and  wise  counsels  I 
owe  all  that  I  am,  and  I  feel  that,  with  all  my  successes, 
all  my  triumphs,  with  the  prospect  of  lasting  fame,  I  am 
far,  very  far  from  being  worthy  of  you  ;  for  when  I  have 
told  you  thousands  of  times  that  you  were  too  good  for 
me  I  have  been  in  earnest.  But  while  I  feel  a  secret, 
unexpressed  gratification  at  the  extraordinary  result  of 
my  visit  here,  which  would  not  have  been  made  but  for 
your  persistent  entreaties,  let  us  not  forget  the  great 
Author  of  it  all.  I  have  done  nothing,  but  have  been 
led  along,  I  know  not  how,  and  have  followed  blindly, 
confidingly,  and  patiently.  Nothing  has  been  done  just 
as  I  would  have  had  it,  but  all  has  turned  out,  or  is 
turning  out,  better  than  I  could  have  devised. 

Tuesday,  October  22, 1861. 

Time  enough  has  elapsed  for  me  to  find  out  some- 
thing of  what  the  doctors  say  and  think.  It  seems  that 
my  operations  are  all  the  talk  among  them.  The  great 
Yelpeau  is  anxious  for  me  to  operate  before  his  young 
men  at  the  Charite,  and  the  young  men  are  absolutely 

16 


36:2  THE   STORY   OF  MY   LIFE. 

running   down   women   to   find   out   if  they   are  fistu- 
lous. 

Civiale  invited  me  to  go  to  the  country  with  him  and 
dine  on  Sunday.  There  were  twelve  or  fifteen  of  us,  and 
I  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  speak  Trench.  Tom 
Pratt  and  Dr.  Oldfield,  an  Englishman,  were  there.  I 
had  a  very  pleasant  but  rather  stupid  time,  as  I  did  not 
speak  French.  Civiale  begs  me  to  become  his  pupil  and 
learn  the  art  of  lithotripsy.  I  have  a  great  mind  to 
write  you  what  he  said.  It  looks  well  enough  on  paper 
when  you  alone  see  it,  but  not  to  others  when  repeated. 
On  Saturday  last  I  went  to  the  Hopital  Xecker,  where 
the  great  Civiale  is  on  service.  I  was  standing  in  a  row 
with  some  medical  students,  and  the  old  gentleman 
passed  by,  bowing  to  the  students  as  he  walked  along. 
As  his  eye  caught  me,  he  stopped  suddenly  and  came  up 
to  me,  and,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  he  launched  forth  a 
terrific  tirade  which  I  took  to  be  something  compli- 
mentary, but  could  not  understand  a  word  he  said.  Of 
course  I  bowed  veiw  humbly,  but  could  make  no  reply. 
Pratt  was  not  with  me,  but  a  young  Englishman  standing 
by  said,  "  TTell,  doctor,  I  must  translate  that  for  you ;  it 
is  too  good  to  be  lost ;  it  is  this  :  '  I  beg  to  render  you  my 
homage.  You  are  a  true  surgeon.  Such  gentleness  and 
firmness,  such  dexterity  and  skill,  such  judgment  and 
courage,  I  have  never  seen  before  combined  in  such 
exact  proportions  in  any  one  man.  "What  a  great  litho- 
triptist  you  would  have  made.  Come  and  be  my  pupil.'  " 
When  we  were  riding  in  the  cars  on  Sunday,  with  Civi- 


DEPARTURE  FOR  LONDON.        363 

ale,  out  to  his  country-place,  lie  said  to  Tom,  "  Is  it  so, 
that  the  doctor  has  received  six  thousand  francs  for  an 
operation  in  private  practice  ?  "  Tom  said,  "  JSTo,  sir ;  he 
has  not  received  six  sous."  "  Well,"  said  Civiale,  "  the 
doctors  are  talking  about  his  great  fees,  and  about  his 
wonderful  operations."  So  you  see  I  am  discussed  in 
private  circles,  as  well  as  in  hospitals,  and  clinics,  and  so- 
cieties. Yesterday  I  had  a  delightful  visit  from  Sir 
Joseph  Olliffe,  who  came  to  congratulate  me  on  the 
operation  on  Friday,  and  to  ask  to  see  the  next  operation 
I  am  to  perform.  You  can  hardly  imagine  the  furore 
and  enthusiasm  the  doctors  are  passing  through  now  on 
the  subject  of  my  operations.  To-night  I  dine  at  Dr. 
Preterre's.  It  seems  that  the  occasion  was  to  bring  me  in 
contact  with  some  influential  litterateurs  in  the  profession, 
who  have  set  their  heads  together  to  do  me  justice  in 
French,  or  rather  Continental,  medical  literature.  How 
providential  it  all  seems. 

I  am  now  unexpectedly  finishing  this  letter  in  Lon- 
don. Dr.  Campbell  received  a  letter  the  other  day  from 
Baker  Brown,  saying  that  he  wished  me  to  come  to  Lon- 
don to  perform  an  operation  for  him,  and,  just  as  I  was 
making  up  my  mind  to  come,  Professor  Gosselin  wrote 
me  that  Mr.  Curling  had  written  to  him  to  come  to  Lon- 
don to  operate  on  a  case  for  him.  So,  under  this  double 
inducement,  I  left  Paris  last  night  and  arrived  here  at 
six  this  morning.  I  must  tell  you  that  the  case  I  oper- 
ated on  last  Friday  is  perfectly  cured.  You  know  that 
I  dreaded  London,  for  I  feared  that  they  would  not  re- 


364  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

ceive  me  so  kindly  there  as  elsewhere,  but  I  have  been 
mistaken.  I  have  not  been  treated  better  anywhere 
than  in  London,  and  here  they  are  ready  to  do  me  ample 
justice  at  once.  I  saw  Baker  Brown  operate  for  ovariot- 
omy to-day.  It  was  splendid.  He  performed  several 
minor  operations,  and  asked  my  opinion  about  a  difficult 
case  or  two.  He  called  for  a  speculum,  and  when  it  was 
brought  he  held  it  up  and  said,  "  Dr.  Sims,  I  believe  this 
is  your  speculum."  I  replied,  "  Yes  sir,  and  I  am  glad 
you  have  found  it  out,  for  you  have  not  done  me  justice 
in  applying  the  name  of  another  man  to  that  speculum." 
There  were  twenty  doctors  present,  and  I  spoke  pretty 
sharply  but  not  rudely.  He  felt  it,  and  said  very  prompt- 
ly, "I  understand  that  you  have  been  breathing  ven- 
geance against  me  because  I  called  this  speculum  by 
another  man's  name ;  and  here,  before  these  medical  gen- 
tlemen, I  wish  to  make  the  amende  honorable.  I  have 
been  imposed  upon  and  deceived,  and  so  has  the  profes- 
sion at  large,  not  only  here,  but  all  over  Europe,  by  your 
countryman  who  pretended  to  have  been  the  inventor  of 
the  speculum  ;  and  I  acknowledge  that  I  have  done  you 
injustice,  but  I  did  it  ignorantly.  I  shall  rectify  the 
error,  and  will  hereafter  do  you  the  justice  that  is  due 
you."  Of  course  he  acted  very  nobly  in  speaking  out 
like  a  man  before  the  whole  crowd. 

Paris,  November  1,  1861. 

The   unfortunate   state  of   political  affairs   at  home 
places  us  in  a  very  precarious  position.     I  feel  that  we 


POLITICAL  COMPLICATIONS.  365 

are  not  worth  one  dollar  to-day.  Let  us  do  as  we  always 
have  done,  accept  our  position  as  we  find  it,  and  look  con- 
tinually to  Him  who  overrules  all  things  for  the  best. 
Financially  the  war  ruins  us.  I  have  nothing  but  wife, 
children,  health,  reputation,  and  plenty  of  labor.  So  far 
a  man  is  blessed.  I  am  content,  nay  happy,  and  truly 
thankful  that  I  am  so  well  off.  Our  property  in  New 
York  is  valueless  to  us,  and  will  soon  be  worth  nothing. 
Our  property  at  the  South  yields  nothing,  and  may  all  be 
lost  under  the  sequestration  act.  If  we  remain  in  New 
York,  the  probabilities  are  that  it  will  all  go  into  the  Con- 
federate treasury.  If  we  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to 
the  Northern  States,  it  is  absolutely  certain  to  be  confis- 
cated, and  I  will  be  worse  off  pecuniarily  but  better  off 
professionally.  I  am  just  as  well  satisfied,  just  as  cheer- 
ful and  happy,  as  I  can  be  under  the  circumstances.  You 
know  I  always  have  a  happy  faculty  of  accommodating 
myself  to  any  position  in  which  I  may  be  placed.  I  wish 
you  to  go  and  see  Mr.  Simeon  Draper,  and  tell  him  that 
I  came  over  here  to  remain  six  weeks ;  that  the  Govern- 
ment, since  then,  requires  every  American  citizen  to  get 
a  passport  and  to  take  the  oath.  Tell  him  that  my  father 
and  all  my  family  are  rebels,  that  they  are  fighting  for 
the  Confederate  government,  and  that  I  sympathize  with 
them  ;  that  if  I  did  not  I  would  be,  as  a  man,  totally  un- 
worthy of  the  confidence  that  he  and  all  the  good  people 
of  New  York  have  placed  in  me  for  the  last  eight  years. 
That  however  much  of  the  rebel  I  may  be  at  heart,  he 
knows  very  well  that  I  am  as  incapable  of  doing  a  trai- 


366  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

torous  act,  against  the  flag  under  which  we  live  at  the 
North,  as  a  five-year-old  child  would  be.  My  sentiments 
I  can  not  help,  for  I  lived  forty  years  of  my  life  at  the 
South.  The  companions  of  my  youth  are  the  leaders  of 
the  great  Southern  rebellion.  My  father,  now  seventy- 
three  years  of  age,  is  one  of  its  soldiers ;  our  whole  fami- 
ly are  in  arms  ;  your  father  and  mother,  my  mother,  and 
one  of  our  beloved  children  have  graves  on  Southern 
soil,  and  how  under  heaven  could  we  be  otherwise  than 
as  we  are,  unless  lost  to  all  sense  of  humanity.  Give  this 
letter  to  Mr.  Draper  to  read,  and  after  that,  if  he  gives 
you  his  assurance  that  I  shall  not  be  subjected  to  any 
indignity  or  annoyance  on  my  return  home,  let  me  know. 
If  he  hesitates  one  second,  let  me  know  it,  and  my  resolu- 
tion is  taken.  Somehow  or  other  you  have  on  one  or 
more  occasions  been  placed  in  the  position  of  assuming 
great  responsibilities  in  piloting  our  little  life-boat,  and 
your  presence  of  mind,  your  judgment,  and  your  courage 
have  always  been  equal  to  the  emergency,  and  I  have  the 
most  unbounded  confidence  in  your  wisdom.  You  are 
again  placed  in  that  trying  position ;  and  now,  under  all 
the  circumstances,  I  ask  you  this  question  and  leave  it  to 
your  decision  :  Do  you  think  it  would  be  wise  for  us  to 
remain  in  Europe  until  the  war  is  over  ?  Think  of  this 
and  write  me  your  decision,  and  what  you  say  that  will  I 
do.  If  our  two  furnished  houses  could  be  rented  for 
enough  to  pay  off  their  mortgage,  interest,  taxes,  etc.,  and 
leave  something  over,  it  would  be  better  than  living  in 
them,  for  here  we  can  live  in  a  cottage  in  the  suburbs  of 


SUCCESS  IN  PARIS.  367 

Paris  for  very  little,  while  I  could  give  my  time  to  the 
preparation   and  publication   of   my   works,  which   the 
world  outside  of  the  Woman's  Hospital  is  sadly  in  need 
of.     I  would  have  some  time  to  devote  to  you  and  the 
children,  and  really  I  don't  think  the  change  would  be  a 
very  unhappy  one.     Is  it  not  strange  to  hear  one  speak 
so  calmly  about  such  a  sad  reverse  of  fortune  ?   I  suppose 
if  I  were  put  in  Fort  Lafayette  I  would  make  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  and  turn  it  all  to  the  best  account.     But,  if  we 
go  into  voluntary  exile  here,  it  would  not  be  an  exile  of 
want  or  destitution  by  any  means.     Turn  me  loose  to-day 
anywhere  in  Europe,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  support  you 
all  in  a  modest  and  unpretentious  style.     I  feel  that  I 
have  now  equally  as  much  influence  in  Europe  as  in  my 
own  country.     You  can  not  imagine  what  an  interest  I 
have  created  here  by  my  professional  labors ;  and  in  six 
weeks  from  this  I  could  sit  down  anywhere  and  draw 
patients  in  abundance.     This  grows  out  of  the  fact  that 
Paris  is  like  New  York.   It  is  to  Europe  what  New  York 
is  to  our  whole  country.    One  of  my  friends  and  counsel- 
ors said  to  me  yesterday  that  my  Parisian  baptism  is  my 
salvation  in  Europe.    I  have  already  operated  four  times, 
and  in  all  cases  successfully.     I  operated  to-day  for  Yel- 
peau,  at  La  Charite.     It  was  a  great  occasion.     Many 
distinguished  men  were  present,  and  a  large  class  of  stu- 
dents.   The  case  had  been  previously  operated  on  about 
seventeen   times   by   Joubard   de   Lamballe.      Yelpeau, 
Malgaigne  and  Denonvilliers  were  perfectly  delighted. 
After  the  operation,  I  said  if  the  young  men  wished  it  I 


368  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

would  make  any  explanations  or  answer  any  questions 
they  might  ask.  I  was  too  modest  to  say  I  would  deliver 
a  lecture.  The  young  men  took  their  seats,  and  Velpeau, 
Malgaigne,  Denonvilliers,  Trelot,  and  a  host  of  other 
old  fellows  sat  by  me.  As  I  talked,  Mr.  Soucon,  a  medi- 
cal student  from  New  Orleans,  a  student  of  Professor 
Stone's,  sat  by  and  translated  as  I  spoke,  and  everybody 
seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  rendering  of  the  sub- 
ject. I  never  saw  such  complete  satisfaction  in  all  my 
life.  Malgaigne,  who  is  nicknamed  the  "  Barking  Dog  " 
because  he  snarls  and  growls  at  everybody,  sat  there  pa- 
tiently all  the  time,  occasionally  asking  a  question  on 
some  point  that  he  did  not  comprehend,  and  when  he  left 
he  shook  my  hand,  and  thanked  me  cordially  over  and 
over  again,  and  everybody  said  that  he  was  never  known 
to  speak  well  of  any  one,  or  to  any  one  in  a  familiar  way 
before.  They  consider  my  triumph  over  him  as  an  era 
in  surgical  polemics.  Colonel  Robert  E.  Cox  was  there, 
and  he  says  the  lecture  was  one  of  the  best  that  he  ever 
heard.  That  grows  out  of  the  fact  that  a  man  can  not 
afford  to  say  a  silly  thing,  or  to  waste  words,  when  they 
are  to  be  rendered  in  another  language. 


APPENDIX  I. 

It  has  been  deemed  proper  to  include  the  following  letters  of 
Dr.  Sims  in  this  volume,  as  they  mark  two  great  transition  periods 
in  his  career ;  one  the  period  of  his  struggling  advance,  the  other 
that  of  assured  triumph. 

The  Fourth  of  July  address  is  included,  as  it  serves  to  illustrate 
the  breadth  of  his  views  upon  current  political  topics,  and  to  prove 
that  the  great  surgeon,  who  had  been  decorated  by  crowned  heads 
in  many  lands,  was  also  by  conviction  and  sentiment  a  true  Ameri- 
can. 

But  a  few  out  of  the  many  memorial  resolutions  and  addresses, 
published  upon  the  occasion  of  his  universally  lamented  death,  are 
here  included.  It  would  be  impossible  to  include  all  within  the 
compass  of  a  book  of  reasonable  size,  and  hence  those  only  are 
given  which  are  not  only  tributes  to  his  professional  character  and 
achievements,  but  to  his  virtues  as  a  man,  to  whom  the  duties  of 
life  were  more  than  life. 

Requesting  the  Mother  of  his  Betrothed  to  consent  to  their 

Marriage. 

Lancasterville,  June  12,  1835. 
Mrs.  Jones, 

Dear  Madam  :  The  relationship  existing  between  your  daughter 
Theresa  and  myself  I  feel  in  duty  bound  to  disclose  to  you.  That 
I  have  not  done  so  before  was  not,  I  assure  you,  owing  to  any  want 
of  respect  for  you  personally,  or  for  your  authority  and  natural 
right  to  be  consulted  in  such  a  matter,  but  rather  to  the  peculiar 
circumstances  under  which  I  have  been  placed.  In  these  may  be 
found  some  apology  for  what  I  know  to  be  a  transgression  of  right, 
and  of  your  rights. 

Theresa  and  myself  have  mutually  plighted  our  faith  to  each 


i:;  thz  -7:7.7   .7  1:7  i:n 

other,  aDcL,  I  need  scarcely  add,  it  is  oar  earnest  an  i    :_  t  :•: 
to  obtain  the  approbation  of  yourselr     i  _ 

who  with,  you  hare  a  reasonable  and  jnst  right  to  control  the  affair 
in  an j  fray.      1  do   not  propo;  _-    nnri^T  7 — 

stance?  render  it  inexpei tl: — :  :  1  wish  first  to  give  yon  am  ear- 
nest of  what  I  mayherei,  .-:  :  -  but  of  that  -z  .  till  I  \jzz  -._-.:_- 
fied  on  the  first  poll 

I  know  that  as  a  mother,  holding  tibe  deamest  iaierert  amd  wel- 
fare of  an  affectionate  child  at  neart,  70a  wffl.  gave  tike  subject  that 
mature  consideration  wMen  it  deserves,  and  I  hope  tihat  it  wim  mot 
be  long  till  I  hear  the  resul : 

from  the  suspense  which  necessarily  oppresses  tine  ■dad  in  a  mat- 
ter  of  such  importance,  and  one,  toft,  of  doubtful  issue, 
I  asm,  with  the  hk 

i»  Search  of  a  Some  in  &e  Wat  iefowe  getfmg  MmrrmL 
Morsrr  "Mktgs.  Alabama,  JkmmAtr  •£,  l&SSu 

weeks'  siege  of  iL     Myself  and  :  ":':: 

a  delightful   r.  -_.-:: :  :     — : ;  1   : :  -.    -  z  :■-.    :     1 

which  was  exceedingly  unpleasant,  as  we  lhad  not  a  drop  of  ram 

from  the  time  we  left  Columbia.     I  stood  das  alow  mode  of  moving 

along  remaafcaHy  well,  and  wait- 

Columbia  here,  mot  riding  more  imam  two  or  tfaree  males  a  day  om 

am  average.    I  visited  Mr.  Adams  to-day.    He  was  very  pofite  to 

us,  but  «>gf^-Hted  to  invite  me  to  cam  at  Ms  mouse*  eomseememtiy  I 

haTe  not  seen  his  wife. 

To-morrow  I  expect  to  visit  Messm  Carter,  Ward,  Ckwetett^ 
and  Lanier,  and  from  Hiere  I  snal  go  to  see  Mr.  Stimg.  Seat 
week  I  set  out  on  a  toar  through  some  of  tme  districts  west  of  tins. 
I  design  gam?  across  to  Perry  amd  Greene  Counties,  then  down 
through  Marengo  and  Wilcox,  tfcenee  through  Lowndes  amd  Mont- 
gomery, Back  to  Mount  Meags.  la  tins  range  of  country,  some- 
where, I  mope  to  find  a  realingplaee.  Mount  Meigs  as  a  fine  stand 
1  and  I  have  Been  strongly  advised  to  iiiuniiiin  mere; 
but  I  shall  not  be  in  a  hurry  about  locating.  fts  ©est  to  tale  tame 
and  look  well  I  hare  on-^ 
is  unquestionably  one  of  the  most  dJHffwpated  fitlfle phases  I  ever  saw. 


APPENDIX  I.  371 

At  this  very  moment  there  are  about  a  dozen  or  twenty  men,  of  the 
most  profane  cast,  drunk  and  fighting,  in  the  street  below  my  win- 
dow, with  a  negro  playing  a  banjo  (I  believe  it  is  so  called)  in  their 
midst.  I  am  informed  that  this  scene  is  not  at  all  uncommon  here. 
This  is,  unfortunately,  the  character  of  almost  all  the  little  towns 
and  villages  in  these  new  counties. 

If  I  should  not  find  a  place  in  Alabama  that  I  like,  I  shall  direct 
my  course  to  Mississippi.  In  selecting  a  home,  I  shall  always  re- 
member that  there  is  only  one  whose  happiness  is  the  darling  wish 
of  my  soul.  I  shall  not  only  look  around  for  a  place  of  making 
money,  but,  if  possible,  I  will  locate  where  there  is  good  society, 
and  consequently  there  can  be  social  enjoyment. 

I  am  happy  to  say  I  have  been  in  the  finest  sort  of  spirits  ever 
since  I  left  home.  You,  Theresa,  should  not  indulge  in  melancholy 
reflections.  Whenever  you  are  about  to  take  the  "blues,"  go  over 
and  plague  Cousin  Nancy  till  you  laugh  yourself  out  of  them.  Al- 
though I  am  so  far  removed  from  you,  you'll  suffer  me  to  prescribe 
in  this  instance,  if  you  please. 

I  wish,  if  you  please,  you  would  get  the  last  letter  Aunt  Sally 
wrote  me,  from  Cousin  Ann,  hand  it  to  my  father  on  his  return 
home,  and  after  that  keep  it  till  I  visit  sweet  old  Carolina  again. 

Kemember  me  most  affectionately  to  your  dear  mother  and  fam- 
ily. Tell  Cousin  Mary  Ann,  etc.,  for  me.  I  expect  to  write  again 
before  I  get  to  my  home.     Till  then  good-bye,  Theresa. 

J.  Marion  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  November  13,  1835. 
My  dear  Theresa  :  I  know  you  will  be  surprised  when  I  tell 
you  I  have  at  length  concluded  to  make  this  place  my  home.  When 
I  wrote  last  I  had  not  visited  or  consulted  with  any  of  my  friends 
about  the  affair.  I  have  been  prevailed  upon  by  strong  solicitations 
to  locate  myself  here  without  looking  any  further.  What  I  then 
told  you  of  Mount  Meigs  is  literally  true,  though  I  judged  altogether 
from  superficial  appearances.  There  are  a  great  many  vagabonds 
(if  I  should  judge  from  appearances)  that  frequent  this  place  for  the 
special  purpose  of  frolicking,  which  has  given  it  a  desperate  charac- 
ter abroad.  It,  however,  has  its  redeeming  qualities.  Mount  Meigs 
will,  in  the  course  of  twelve  or  fifteen  months,  be  a  very  desirable 
place,  because  the  society  will  in  that  time  be  excellent.     There 


372  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

is  a  very  large  spring  in  the  immediate  vicinity  (say  five  or  six 
hundred  yards  distant)  at  which  several  gentlemen  are  now  making 
preparations  to  build.  Colonel  Campbell,  Colonel  Keen,  Mayor 
Ashurst,  his  brother,  and  brother-in-law  Ward  Crockett,  will  all 
build  at  the  spring.  Crockett's  house  will  be  finished  in  the  course 
of  the  winter.  I  expect  to  board  with  him.  In  addition  to  the 
above-named  gentlemen,  there  are  other  families  at  Mount  Meigs. 
Mr.  Lucas  and  his  step  son-in-law  Mr.  Charles,  who  married  Miss 
Fanny  Taylor,  of  Columbia.  Upon  the  whole,  I  think  I  have  made  a 
judicious  selection  as  far  as  society  is  concerned.  It  was  on  your 
account,  Theresa,  that  I  at  first  rejected  Mount  Meigs,  and  it  was  on 
your  account  that  I  afterward  concluded  to  remain  here.  As  to 
the  prospects  of  making  a  living  here — I  set  up  in  opposition  to  one 
of  the  most  popular  men  in  the  county  or  perhaps  State — he  is  ex- 
ceedingly popular  as  a  man,  and  equally  so  as  a  physician,  and  no 
doubt  deservedly  so.  I  shall  ever  feel  grateful  to  my  friends  Lanier, 
Adams  and  Crockett,  for  the  interest  they  seem  to  manifest  for  my 
welfare.  Mount  Meigs  has  generally  been  considered  very  healthy, 
but  the  vicinity  is  a  rich,  densely-populated  country,  and  withal 
sickly.  If,  with  such  opposition  as  Dr.  Lucas,  I  can  support  myself 
and  pay  my  debts  next  year,  I  shall  think  that  I  have  done  a  fine 
business,  though  some  of  my  sanguine  friends  say  that  they  will  in- 
sure two  or  three  times  that  much.  To-day  I  bought  all  of  Dr. 
Childers's  books  and  medicines,  he  is  going  to  Mobile ;  about  sixty 
years  old  and  very  eminent  in  his  profession — has  been  practicing 
here  for  the  last  year — he  has  a  great  many  friends  and  is  using 
his  influence  for  me.  I  have  already  found  several  valuable  friends, 
but  my  dear  Theresa  I  must  take  leave  of  you  again.  Do  write  to 
me  soon,  don't  put  it  off,  it's  my  last  request,  Theresa. 

J.  Marion  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  December  31, 1835. 
My  dear,  dear  Theresa  :  Why  in  the  world  don't  you  write  to 
me?  I  can't  conceive  what  possible  shadow  of  excuse  you  can  have. 
Heretofore  you  had  valid  reasons  for  not  writing,  but  now  the 
whole  affair  is  known  at  home,  and  you  can  leisurely  sit  down  and 
write  to  me  at  any  time  you  please.  Theresa,  you  must  excuse  me 
for  writing  so  ardently.  You  have  been  from  home,  from  friends 
and  relations,  you  know  what  it  is  to  look  anxiously  for  some  in- 


APPENDIX  I.  373 

telligence  from  them,  and  look  in  vain.  You  must  therefore  be  in 
some  measure  conscious  of  the  painful  anxiety  of  mind  I  now  labor 
under.  Theresa,  I  say  no  more  than  the  truth  when  I  declare  that 
you  are  nearer  to  me  than  any  brother  or  sister  I  have  (and  heaven 
knows  I  love  them  dearly).  Is  it,  then,  a  matter  of  surprise  that  I 
should  beg,  entreat,  and  even  chide,  because  you  appear  to  forget 
me  ?  I  know  you  have  not  forgotten  me,  but  I  speak  of  appear- 
ances. Of  course  I  would  feel  easier  and  more  happy  if  you  would 
from  time  to  time  give  me  some  evidence  of  continued  attachment. 
I  am  certain  that  you  are  constant ;  don't  construe  what  I  have  said 
into  any  apprehension  on  my  part  of  a  want  of  the  most  untiring 
constancy  in  you — far  from  it.  I  could  not  possibly  believe  that 
any  one  could  bear  with  such  Eoman  fortitude,  that.you,  Theresa, 
have  endured,  with  such  unflinching  firmness — the  strenuous  op- 
position you  have  encountered — and  at  this  late  hour  retreat.  I  could 
not  believe  it.  Think  not,  then,  that  I  have  any  doubts.  I  only  wish 
you  to  make  certain,  more  sure.  It  has  been  nearly  three  months 
since  I  left  home  and  I  have  received  but  two  letters,  one  from  sis- 
ter a  few  days  ago,  and  a  few  scratches  of  the  pen  from  brother 
Wash.  Not  one  word  from  you  to  cheer  me  on  in  the  path  of  duty 
and  to  comfort  what  few  leisure  hours  I  have.  But  you  have  al- 
ready become  tired  of  this  scold.  I  repeat,  Theresa,  you  must  ex- 
cuse me.  All  the  time  I  can  spare  from  my  studies  and  practice  I 
spend  in  writing  to  my  friends.  What  I  tell  you  about  my  prospects 
and  practice  is  confidential — it  would  look  like  vaunting  to  speak 
candidly  about  it  to  any  other  individual  than  yourself.  My  friends 
accumulate  hourly.  My  practice  increases  daily — in  fact  I  have  as 
much  as  I  want,  and  so  far  I  have  more  than  divided  the  practice 
witli  Dr.  Lucas,  my  opponent,  who  is  one  of  the  most  popular  men 
in  Alabama.  It  is  not  sickly,  but  I  am  constantly  employed,  there's 
not  a  day  but  I  have  something  to  do.  I  have  the  glorious  consola- 
tion of  knowing  (to  a  certainty)  that,  by  a  very  simple  operation,  I 
have  saved  one  man's  life  who  was  left  by  older  physicians  to  die. 
In  his  neighborhood  the  people  believe  in  me,  l)ut  I  begin  to  feel 
almost  ashamed  of  writing  in  this  tone.  I  fear  you'll  set  me  down 
as  an  egotist.  Theresa,  I  believe  that  generally  I  express  my  opin- 
ion too  freely  to  you,  but  you  must  look  over  these  little  things.  It's 
human  nature.  We  must  always  have  some  one  to  confer  with, 
some  friend  into   whose   attentive   ear   we  can  pour   our  secret 


374  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

thoughts  and  speculations ;  but  I  must  stop  this  apology   for  my 
egotism,  merely  because  I  fear  I  shall  make  bad  worse. 

Theresa,  be  not  angry  with  my  importuning  you.  Will  you  write 
to  me?  "  I  pause  for  a  reply."  I  shall  wait  for  an  answer.  Give 
my  love  to  your  dear  mother,  and  sister  Mary.  Let  me,  through  you, 
congratulate  my  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thornwell. 

For  the  present  I  take  leave  of  you,  Theresa. 

J.  Maeiox  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  January  10,  1836. 

Oh,  my  dear  Theresa,  can  you  forgive  me  for  the  scold  I  gave  you 
last  week?  I  have  repented  it  fifty  times  to-night  since  the  recep- 
tion of  your  dear,  long-looked-for  letter.  I  have  read  it  with  the 
greatest  avidity,  and  read  again  and  again,  and  am  not  yet  tired. 
Theresa,  if  you  could  but  imagine  what  immense  pleasure  and  grati- 
fication it  is  to  me  to  hear  from  you,  I  feel  confident  that  you  would 
not  let  me  remain  another  three  months  without  writing  to  me.  It 
seems  to  make  my  spirits  more  buoyant,  and  is  an  additional  stimu- 
lus to  industry. 

In  this  little  Mount  Meigs — which  is  nothing  but  a  pile  of  gin- 
houses,  stables,  blacksmith -shops,  grog-shops,  taverns  and  stores, 
thrown  together  in  one  promiscuous  huddle — I  say  in  this  trifling 
place,  our  engagement  is  talked  of  by  everybody  as  currently  as  in 
old  Lancaster.  How  in  the  world  it  got  out  I  can't  divine;  some 
great  wide-mouthed  fool  from  Carolina  stopped  a  few  days  ago  at 
the  post-office  and  inquired  for  me.  He  gave  the  young  men  at 
the  office  (who  are  very  particular  friends  of  mine)  our  whole  his- 
tory, courtship,  and  the  time  that  was  appointed  for  solemnizing  the 
marriage  ceremony  ;  in  fact,  he  appeared  to  know  as  much  or  more 
about  it  than  I  do.  He  told  the  young  men  his  name,  but  they  for- 
got it.  Whoever  he  may  be,  he  is  most  assuredly  an  uncommonly 
smart  fellow.  However,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  about  it.  This 
evening,  as  I  was  telling  Mrs.  Adams  that  I  had  written  to  Rush 
and  gave  her  compliments,  etc.,  to  him,  a  lady  sitting  by  (Mrs. 
Shellman)  exclaimed,  "  Well,  when  you  wrote  to  Miss  Jones  did  you 
give  her  my  love."  I  need  not  say  what  my  predicament  was.  or 
whose  face  could  have  lighted  a  candle.  I  got  out  of  her  clutches 
the  best  way  I  could,  which  was  by  acknowledging  everything  she 
said,  for  it  was  all  the  truth.     You  may  now  consider  yourself  pre- 


APPENDIX  I.  375 

sented  with  the  love,  etc.,  of  Mrs.  Shell  man ;   she  is  a  fine  little 
woman  and  always  says  what  she  thinks. 

I  have  spent  an  intolerably  dull  Christmas,  for  I  was  the  whole  time 
in  the  sick  chamber.  Ward  Crockett  came  near  giving  up  the  ghost 
about  that  time,  but  is  now  Well.  There  was  a  ball  in  the  town  of 
Montgomery  about  a  week  ago,  but  I  did  not  attend  it.  There  were 
one  hundred  ladies  and  as  many  gentlemen  at  it ;  I  had  but  little 
temptation  to  go,  though  some  of  my  warmest  young  friends  per- 
suaded me  very  strenuously.  On  such  occasions  I  always  think  of 
Cousin  Nancy  and  the  advice  she  gave,  and  I  have  frequently  thought 
of  her,  and  as  frequently  endeavored  to  follow  the  wholesome  advice. 
It  was  this:  "Never  sacrifice  duty  to  pleasure."  I  always  consid- 
ered it  my  duty  as  well  as  interest  to  be  ever  found  at  my  post,  and 
could  therefore  leave  home  on  no  other  pretext  than  that  of  profes- 
sional business.  As  it  is  very  late,  and  my  fire  burnt  down,  I  must 
for  the  present  say  farewell.  That's  a  doleful  word,  and  I  never 
like  to  pronounce  it,  much  less  to  write  it. 

Theresa,  be  sure  you  write  to  me  soon,  let  it  not  be  more  than 
two  weeks  at  the  utmost.  Eemember  now,  my  dear  Theresa,  two 
weeks  is  the  limit. 

I  remain,  with  the  same  ever  fond,  endearing  attachment, 

Good-bye,  Theresa, 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

P.  S.  I  am  now  boarding  with  Mr.  Adams.  Mrs.  Adams  is  the 
same  pleasant  little  woman  that  she  ever  was.  Remember  me  affec- 
tionately to  your  dear  mother  and  all  the  Conguss  folks.  I  should 
be  glad  to  receive  a  letter  from  our  sweet  little  cousin  Mary  Ann. 
Do  let  me  know  how  Wash  is  getting;  he  was  very  sick,  you  know, 
when  I  left  home.  I  hope  he  is  convalescent,  at  least  I  think  he  is 
not  dangerous ;   inquire  of  his  physician,  if  you  please. 

Again,  good-night,  Theresa. 

J.  Marion  Sims. 

It's  strange  that  you  have  not  received  a  letter  from  me  in  five 
weeks — I  have  written  four,  I  think.  J.  M.  S. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  January  30, 1836. 
My  dear  Theeesa  :  I  am  certain  yon  can't  divine  the  object  of 
this  letter.     You  may  expect  me  in  old  Lancaster  about  the  16th  or 


376  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

18th  of  February,  and,  as  soon  after  that  as  is  perfectly  convenient, 
I  wish  to  have  a  final  adjustment  and  consummation  of  all  our  love 
matters.  Be  ready,  prepared  for  our  wedding  and  for  Alabama, 
and  you  will  make  me  the  happiest  man. 

O,  Theresa,  I  do  long  to  see  you,  my  dearest  girl — Be  ready, 
Theresa ! 

Till  I  see  you,  good-by,  my  dearest,  dearest  Theresa. 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  January  30,  1836. 

My  deae  Mes.  Jones  :  I  must  acknowledge  that  I  feel  somewhat 
embarrassed  in  addressing  you  this  letter.  Nothing  but  a  false  deli- 
cacy, combined  with  some  uncertainty  in  my  movements  and  success, 
caused  me  to  postpone  an  explicit  understanding  relative  to  the  pro- 
posed connection  that  I  hope  to  form  in  your  family.  You  know 
that  I  have  been  long  and  devotedly  attached  to  Theresa,  that  this 
attachment  has  existed,  as  it  were,  from  childhood,  and  that  it  has 
been  strengthened  by  long  cherished  and  intimate  friendship.  Two 
years  and  a  half  have  elapsed  since  our  mutual  faith  was  plighted, 
and  I  have  naturally  looked  forward  with  interest  and  anxiety  to  the 
final  consummation  of  this,  the  first  darling  wish  of  my  soul.  My  cir- 
cumstances and  prospects  you  as  a  mother  have  a  right  to  inquire 
into.  I  have  succeeded  in  making  arrangements  that  I  knew  nothing 
of  when  I  wrote  to  Ool.  Witherspoon  a  few  days  ago.  I  have  ob- 
tained a  lot,  and  have  lumber  ready  cut  to  put  up  a  comfortable  little 
house,  which  I  presume  can  not  be  finished  before  the  first  of  May  or 
June.  Till  then  I  have  procured  board  in  a  private  family.  I  wi]l 
be  in  Lancaster  on  or  before  the  18th  of  next  month,  February.  It 
will  be  out  of  my  power  to  remain  longer  than  10  or  12  days,  because 
I  can't  do  so  without  making  considerable  sacrifices  here. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Jones, 

I  remain  your  ever  affectionate  friend  and  faithful 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mrs.  E.  I.  Jones,  Lancaster,  S.  0. 
■ 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  April  1,  1836. 

My  deae  Theeesa  :  I  am  once  again  safe  at  home  after  a  long 
and  tedious,  but  withal  delightful  siege  of  traveling.  In  Phila- 
delphia! spent  ten  days  very  pleasantly  indeed.    I've  taken  Aunt 


APPENDIX  I.  377 

Sally  and  all  her  little  family  by  surprise.  I  found  Virginia  well 
and  in  good  spirits.  She  has  improved  very  much  in  every  respect. 
I  never  thought  that  she  had  a  strong  constitution,  but  the  severe 
northern  winter  did  not  appear  to  impair  her  health  in  the  least — 
on  the  contrary  she  has  grown  considerably,  looks  better,  and  her 
general  health  is  excellent.  Aunt  Sally  says  that  slie  is  talented 
and  very  studious.  She  performs  well  on  the  piano  and  sings  delight- 
fully. I  shall  not  praise  her  any  more  at  present,  but  merely  say 
that,  by  her  amiable  deportment  and  sweet  disposition,  she  has  won 
the  affections  of  every  young  lady  and  child  in  the  school. 

I  called  on  Miss  Rogers  and  all  my  acquaintances  in  the  city. 
They  invariably  inquired  whether  I  was  married  or  not.  I  would 
have  liked  to  answer  in  the  affirmative,  but  doubtless  it  will  be 
better,  after  a  short  lapse  of  time,  that  circumstances  prevented 
it  for  the  present,  for  "  whatever  is,  is  right."  I  gave  Aunt  Sally 
the  present  you  sent  her,  with  which  she  appeared  to  be  delighted. 
She  spoke  frequently  and  affectionately  of  you,  regretting  very  much 
that  you  did  not  visit  Philadelphia  last  fall.  She  says  that  she  never 
expects  to  see  you  as  long  as  she  lives. 

I  send  you  by  Rush  a  small  memento  which  I  requested  him  to 
give  to  you,  provided  Mrs.  Jones  interposes  no  objection ;  but,  if 
possibly  there  should  be  any,  of  course  you'll  not  want  it.  Theresa, 
the  wind  blows  favorably  now,  all  opposition  is  happily  done  away 
with,  and  everything  is  peace  and  harmony.  You  can  scarcely 
imagine  what  the  state  of  my  mind  is  now,  compared  to  what  it 
was  last  year  this  time.  Then  it  was  racked  with  doubts  and  mis- 
givings, and  perplexed  with  anticipated  evils;  now  it  is  compara- 
tively calm  and  easy.  I  know  that  the  time  will  come,  and  speedily 
(for  it's  limited  to  nine  months),  when  all  will  be  settled.  I  know, 
too,  that  your  precious  mother  is  better  reconciled :  and  this  makes 
me  more  contented,  for  there  is  no  sacrifice  so  great  that  I  would 
not  make  to  conciliate  her.  When  I  think  of  her  situation,  that 
of  a  tender,  doating  mother,  I  say  to  myself,  "Do  as  you  would 
be  done  by,"  and  whenever  I  have  had  the  philosophy  to  call  this 
golden  rule  into  action  I  feel  certain  that  I  never  experienced  any 
regrets  in  consequence.  I  believe  I  heard  you  say  that  you  liked 
a  matter  of  fact  letter,  and  not  one  filled  with  moralizing,  etc.  As 
I  have  no  news  to  communicate  that  would  at  all  interest  you,  I 
must  instead  of  facts  give  you  ideas,  though  they  may  be  expressed 


378  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

so  incoherently  as  not  to  be  comprehensible  always.  However,  the 
chain  of  connection  is  plain  in  my  own  mind,  though  it  may  appear 
a  confused  affair  to  another.     Then  excuse. 

This  is  the  first  day  of  April.  April  fooling  is  in  great  fashion 
here.  Mrs.  Judkins  sent  me  up  to  see  Miss  Shellman,  saying  that 
she  had  the  most  excruciating  toothache,  and  wished  me  to  go  and 
extract  it.  I  assure  you  I  felt  rather  awkward  when  I  went  with 
my  instruments  and  found  that  I  had  been  "  fooled" 

Next  Monday,  the  4th  of  April,  is,  I  believe,  your  birthday.  I 
shall  not  forget  it,  neither  can  I  forget,  among  many  other  fond 
recollections,  that  on  that  day — 1836 — I  was  completely  and  totally 
"  used  up."  However,  all's  well  now,  and  I  am  amply  repaid  for 
all  such  cruel  acts,  though  they  were  not  altogether  voluntary. 
Have  you  heard  anything  from  Wash  or  any  of  the  volunteers  since 
their  arrival  in  Florida  ?  How  is  Cousin  Marian  ?  I  expect  her 
to  write  to  me  as  well  as  yourself. 

Theresa,  remember  what  I  told  you.  Write  to  me.  Give  my 
love  to  Mrs.  Jones  and  family. 

Good-by,  my  ever  dear  Theresa. 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  April  13,  1836. 
My  deae,  deae  Theeesa:  I  had  the  blues  most  horribly  last 
night.  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  home — of  you.  During  my  ab- 
sence from  Alabama  a  friend  of  mine  was  married,  and  his  brother 
gave  him  a  party  last  evening.  I  shared  his  hospitality,  but,  in- 
deed, a  small  portion  of  pleasure  fell  to  my  lot.  I  feel  now,  when 
in  the  company  of  young  ladies,  that  I  can't  possibly  do  or  say  any- 
thing calculated  to  interest  or  please,  and,  therefore,  only  take 
pains  not  to  excite  the  displeasure  of  any.  This  feeliDg  of  indiffer- 
ence it  is  impossible  for  me  to  master  ;  but  this  is  as  it  should  be, 
for  I  exult  in  saying  that  my  heart  is  inthralled,  that  it  belongs  to 
one  only.  This  being  the  case,  it  is  not  unnatural  that  I  should 
manifest  so  little  solicitude  about  the  company  of  others,  indeed, 
their  presence  only  serves  to  remind  me  more  forcibly  of  the  absent, 
and,  therefore,  did  I  say  that  I  was  afflicted  with  a  slight  paroxysm 
of  the  blue  devils.  .  .  .  The  party  was  small  and  select.  The  young 
ladies  generally  looked  "pretty  fiercely  "  I  may  say  handsome ;  their 
manners  open,  frank,  and  pleasant,  not  being  trammeled  with  too 


APPENDIX  I.  379 

great  a  show  of  formality  and  etiquette.  The  minds  of  the  mass  of 
them  were  not,  however,  extremely  well  cultivated,  though  they 
could  make  a  noise  on  the  piano,  dance  gracefully,  dress  splendidly, 
and  talk  nonsense  enough  for  anybody's  use — unfortunately,  nowa- 
days, these  accomplishments,  as  they  are  termed,  instead  of  being 
thought  superfluous,  or  rather  supplemental,  are  made  the  very  basis 
of  female  education — but  I  commenced  to  give  you  an  idea  of  these 
Alabama  lassies,  and  not  to  write  a  dissertation  on  education.  A 
few  of  these  misses,  as  is  usual  in  such  a  crowd,  were  thought  to  be 
beautiful — what  a  pity  that  girls  generally  will  tell,  by  their  actions, 
that  they  are  aware  of  the  fact! — this  was  the  case  with  some  of 
these,  and,  of  course,  they  were  rather  too  "  airy"  to  please  such  an 
old  gentleman  as  myself.  But,  to  be  serious,  I  could  not  help  con- 
trasting with  these  the  one  I  love.  Theresa,  I  never  was  in  the 
habit  of  praising  you  to  your  face.  I  know  you  have  too  much 
sense  to  suffer  flattery,  and  I  too  high  a  regard,  too  much  love 
for  you  to  attempt  such  a  thing.  I  am  wholly  incapable  of  it. 
Truth  in  commendation  is  not  flattery,  even  though  it  should  be 
misdirected.  I  say  that  the  contrast  involuntarily  arose  in  my 
mind.  How  I  hate  affectation  and  coquetry.  "Love  is  blind"  I 
know ;  but  I  must  say  that  such  things  could  never  elude  my  ob- 
servations. Theresa,  I  have  told  you  more  than  once  that  I  love 
you ;  yet  words  vainly  essay  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  degree  and 
intensity  of  that  love.  Should  I  say  that  time,  space,  and  a  thou- 
sand new  faces  could  not  effect  a  change  in  my  present  sentiments, 
you,  I  am  certain,  would  believe  me  sincere,  though  you  might  an- 
swer that  I  was  human,  and  frailty  was  natural.  What  on  this 
earth  ought  to  make  one  happier  than  the  idea  of  being  sincerely 
loved  ?  I  ought  to  be  satisfied,  for  I  feel  certain  that  I  am  loved  for 
myself  alone.  I  am  poor,  very  poor,  and  you  have  always  known 
it ;  yet  I  rejoice  in  this  poverty  when  it  buys  such  love  as  yours. 
I  have  nothing  to  boast  of,  nothing,  Theresa,  but  you.  These  are 
not  unmeaning  words.  I  speak  as  I  feel,  but,  heaven  knows,  not 
half  as  much.  Think  me  not  romantic,  I  never  was,  but  delight  in 
reality,  be  it  ever  so  sad. 

I  have  called  on  Mrs.  Howard  again.  "  All's  well."  She  ap- 
pears to  be  contented ;  but  I  assure  you  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  her  situation  here,  for  comfort,  and  the  one  she  enjoyed  in 
old  Lancaster.     We  have  to  make  a  great  many  sacrifices,  and  en- 


380  THE  STOKY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

dure  many  privations,  by  moving  to  this  or  any  other  new  country. 
I  am  no  ways  backward  in  telling  you  the  truth,  for  I  am  anxious 
to  prepare  your  mind  for  the  worst.  If  there  is  to  be  any  disap- 
pointment 1  want  it,  if  possible,  to  be  agreeable.  About  a  week 
ago  I  received  a  letter  from  Brother  "Wash.  It  was  written  with 
his  characteristic  brevity,  and  dated  at  Volusia,  March  24th,  and 
says :  "  If  I  am  not  killed,  it  is  uncertain  which  way  I  shall  return 
home.  Write  to  meat  St.  Augustine  and  inform  me  whether  you 
are  married  or  not.  If  you  are,  it  is  possible  that  I  may  pay  you  a 
visit  before  I  return  home.  Give  my  love  to  Marian  and  Theresa, 
and  tell  them  farewell  for  me— farewell."     (Signed.) 

I  shall  ever  regret  that  I  did  not  go  with  Wash  and  my  friends 
to  Florida.     My  brother  is  there.     It  is  not  always  prudent  to  say 

what  we  think;  but,  when  I  think  of  old  H 's  treatment  of 

and  Wash  on  the  eve  of  his  leaving  home,  it  makes  me  too 

hot.  I  never  can  forget  or  forgive  that  act  in  the  old  colonel.  I  had 
more  charity  for  him  than  to  suppose  for  a  moment  that  he  could 
possibly  be  guilty  of  such  an  act  of  cruelty.  A  Turk  would  not 
have  done  more!     I  am  anxious  to  hear  from  you.     I  have  not 

heard  from since  I  left  there.     Farewell,  my  dear  Theresa. 

J.  Marion  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  May  11,  1836. 
Theresa,  my  dearest  girl,  your  precious  letter  was  duly  received, 
for  which  you  have  my  acknowledgment — a  thousand  thanks.  I 
would  certainly  have  answered  it  before  this  time  but  (as  I  sup- 
pose) you  are  aware  that  the  mail  has  been  stopped,  in  consequence 
of  the  disturbances  in  the  Creek  Nation.  The  whole  country  is  in  a 
perfect  uproar.  Women  and  children  are  flying  in  every  direction, 
for  the  last  two  days.  The  road  here  has  been  strewed  with  these 
helpless  creatures,  leaving  their  houses  and  homes  to  be  plundered 
by  the  ruthless  savage.  Most  of  the  chiefs  are  friendly,  but  they 
say  that  they  can't  possibly  control  their  young  warriors,  and  that 
a  fight  is  inevitable.  About  four  hundred  men  from  this  section  of 
country  will  march  into  the  Nation  to-morrow  or  next  day,  which 
I  think  will  act  as  a  most  powerful  sedative  on  these  infurated,  hot- 
blooded  animals.  Our  village  is  crowded  to-night  with  women  and 
children  who  have  fled  from  the  Nation.  Forty  or  fifty  families 
have  crossed  Line  Creek  to-day.     Really  it  is  a  melancholy  specta- 


APPENDIX  I.  381 

cle  to  look  at  them,  to  bear  them  describe  the  situation  of  the  coun- 
try and  the  consternation  of  the  inhabitants.  If  such  scenes  as 
this  are  not  sufficient  to  stimulate  to  action,  and  to  fan  into  a  flame 
the  last  latent  sparks  of  chivalry,  I  don't  know  what  would  be. 
Any  man  who  would  openly  refuse,  under  such  circumstances  as 
these,  to  march  to  the  rescue  of  his  fellow-citizens,  would  not  justly 
be  entitled  to  the  protection  of  the  community  in  which  he  lived, 
much  less  to  the  affection  that  any  fair  friend  might  bear  him. 
But  you  have  heard  of  "  Ulans  and  rumors  of  Ulans  "  till  you  are 
tired  of  it.  You  have  already  suffered  painful  anxiety  enough  about 
your  friends  and  acquaintances  who  went  to  Florida,  without  hav- 
ing your  feelings  too  much  excited  or  your  sympathies  too  deeply 
enlisted  by  a  description  of  our  suffering  here.  Tell  -Rush  that,  if 
he  wishes  to  visit  this  country  this  spring,  he  can't  now  come  as  a 
traveling  gentleman,  but  he  can  come  in  the  capacity  of  a  "  knight- 
errant."  It  is  thought  that  there  will  be  ample  room  now  for  a 
display  of  gallantry;  that  those  restless  young  spirits,  panting  for 
glory  and  military  renown,  may  now  have  an  opportunity  of  evinc- 
ing their  courage  and  immortalizing  themselves.  Think  not,  though, 
that  I  am  one  of  these  adventurers.  I  am  satisfied  with  doing  my 
duty  in  giving  protection  and  assistance  to  the  defenseless  inhab- 
itants— but  I  promised  to  say  no  more  about  wars.  However,  it 
may  turn  out,  as  everybody  says,  that  there  will  be  a  first-rate 
chance  of  getting  a  fight  out  of  the  Indians.  Some  of  those  young 
fellows  will  have  fun  over  these  if  there's  fun  in  fighting.  If  Major 
G.  put  this  letter  in  the  post-office  after  he  got  there,  please  let 
my  father  know  these  facts.  I  have  not  time  to  write  to  him  at 
this  moment.     Two  of  his  last  letters  have  been  received. 

Remember  me  kindly  and  affectionately  to  your  dear  mother  and 
Rush  and  all  of  my  friends.  Promise  to  write  to  you  whenever  I 
have  a  chance  of  sending  the  letter  to  any  place  in  Georgia. 

Farewell,  Theresa.  Ever  yours.  Love  to  "  Marion,"  and  tell  her 
"  blessed  is  he  (she)  who  holdeth  out  to  the  last."  Again,  farewell, 
my  dearest  Theresa.  J.  Marion  Sims. 

Tuskegee,  Alabama,  June  4,  1836. 

My  dear  Theresa  :  I  have  just  time  to  drop  you  a  few  lines. 
I  write  by  a  company  of  engineers  returning  to  Columbus.  This 
morning  our  company  was  (as  they  call  it)  honorably  discharged. 


THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  have  been  long  enough  in  the  service  to  become  tired  of  it.  We 
lived  well  indeed,  not  suffering  any  of  the  privations  to  which  our 
Florida  vohmtec  -:omecL     The  only  thing  we  lacked 

a  a  chance  of  fighting.  I  never  saw  men  so  hungry  for  a  fight 
in  my  life,  hut  I  suppose  that  it  will  be  the  least  troublesome  of  all 
the  labors  that  those  who  remain  will  have  to  undergo. 

I  presume  you  have  heard  by  this  time  that  Mr.  Thifer  arrived 
safely  at  home.  He  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  He  was  out  three  days 
and  nights  without  a  mouthful  to  eat,  etc  A  minute  history  of 
what  he  had  to  suffer  would  make  one's  heart  ache.  I  had  an 
account  of  the  affair  from  one  that  was  with  him.  His  trunk  has 
been  seen  lying  by  the  road-side  (being  labeled),  but  it  was  torn  open 
and  everything  taken  out. 

I  shall  in  a  few  minutes  leave  here  f  or  Moun:  Y.  ,:-      Et:-.~ 
ing  if  you  please,  we  have  to  do  as  we  can  in  camps. 
Give  my  respects  :     my   ;:usins,  friends,  and  remember  me  most 
affectionately  to  your  dear  mother. 

For  a  time  farewell,  my  dear  Theresa. 

J.  Ma biox  Sims. 

Moust  Meigs,  Alabama.  June  2&,  1836. 

My  dear,  deae  Thebesa:  I  have  just  this  moment  received 
brother  letter  dated  the  1st  of  June.     Sorry  indeed  am  I  if 

I  have  inadvertently  given  you  uneasiness  by  not  writing  more  fre- 
quently. I  wrote  to  you  by  Maj  i  Gibson,  a  dt  ro  before  he 
marched  to  the  Nation.  A  :~~  lays  afterward  I  wrote  to  father 
and  Rush,  and,  when  &  discharged,  I  wrote  again  to  my 
father  and  yourself.  These  letters  were  intrusted  to  gentlemen  sol- 
diers going  on  to  Columbus,  who  promised  to  place  them  in  the 
post-office  there.  I  presume  that  ere  this  time  they  have  all  come 
to  hand,  if  they  had  not  when  brother's  letter  was  received.  "Wash 
gave  me  a  tremendous  scolding.  Ifs  all  just  enough.  After  enu- 
merating what  I  must  write  to  you  about,  brother  says:  "Tell  her 
all  that  a  lover  can  tell,  or  all  that  a  lover  can  ask."    With  regard 

the  Cheek  Ulan,  we  are  here  altogether  ignorant  of  what  is  going 
on  in  the  Xation.  Various  and  innumerable  contradictory  rumors 
are  flying  through  the  country.  We  don't  know  what  to  believe. 
Report  says  that  this  portion  of  the  army  was  within  a  few  miles 
of  the  camp  of  the  hostile  Indians  last  week,  and  intended  attack- 


APPENDIX  I.  383 

ing  them  immediately;  that  when  they  went  there  the  Indians  had 
decamped,  that  they  took  some  negroes  that  the  Indians  had  stolen, 
with  five  hundred  bushels  of  corn  and  three  hundred  head  of  cattle, 
together  with  some  fifty  or  sixty  prisoners,  one  of  the  head  chiefs 
among- them. 

1  fear  that  it  will  be  a  long  time  yet  before  peace  and  tranquillity 
are  restored  to  this  section  of  country,  though  let  not  this  frighten 
you,  for  it  must  not  prevent  our  connubial  arrangements  in  the  fall. 
I  am  just  as  safe  here,  and  as  much  out  of  danger,  as  you  are  in 
Lancaster.  Think  me  not  premature,  Theresa,  if  I  here  speak  of 
appointing  the  wedding-day,  etc.,  for  it  takes  a  letter  so  long  to 
travel  from  here  to  Carolina,  it's  well  enough  to  begin  in  time.  I 
find  that  I  can't  leave  this  place  before  December,  which  I  expect 
to  early  in  the  month,  so  that  I  may  spend  the  Christmas  holidays 
in  old  Lancaster.  I  would  suggest  the  appointment  of  any  day 
(Sunday  excepted)  between  the  10th  and  20th  of  December,  pro- 
vided it  meets  your  approbation.  I  beg  you  when  you  write  to  me 
to  define  some  particular  day  for  the  occasion,  as  it  will  be  too  late 
after  I  get  there  to  do  so  and  make  the  necessary  arrangements.  I 
hope  now  that  you  will  not  forget  this.  You  might  possibly  neglect 
to  say  anything  about  it  for  a  time,  but  I  don't  think  you  can  easily 
forget. 

Wash  seems  to  be  in  a  desperate  way ;  I  wish  you  wTould  pre- 
scribe for  him.  Tell  him  there's  nothing  like  patience  and  perse- 
verance. I  have  tried  in  my  own  case  and  found  it  beneficial.  I 
would,  therefore,  strenuously  recommend  it  to  all  those  afflicted 
in  like  manner ;  such  medicines  frequently  answer  an  admirable 
purpose,  when  harsher  remedies  have  proved  totally  inefficient,  if 
not  detrimental.  It's  a  hard  case.  I  know  it  troubles  your  mind 
in  some  degree,  for  you  can  not  but  sympathize  with  individuals  so 
unfortunately  circumstanced,  particularly  when  you  feel  so  much 
interest  in  their  personal  welfare  and  future  happiness. 

Remember  me,  Theresa,  most  affectionately  to  your  precious 
mother  and  her  dear  family.  Tell  Eush  to  write  to  me,  if  he  has 
not  already  done  so.  Let  me  hear  from  you,  if  you  please.  Give 
me  all  the  news,  for  I  have  had  nothing  particular  from  home 
lately. 

Farewell,  my  dear,  dear  Theresa. 

J.  Marion  Sims. 


384  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  July  SO,  1836. 

My  deae  Theeesa  :  It  is  now  midnight.  I  have  just  returned 
from  the  country,  and  found  Dan  Clarke  at  the  hotel.  The  oppor- 
tunity is  so  fine  that  I  would  be  committing  a  criminal  act  if  I  did 
not  take  time  to  write  you  a  few  lines. 

I  am  in  perfectly  good  health,  and,  as  usual,  in  very  fine  spirits. 
You  have  seen  that  the  Indian  war  is  probably  at  an  end;  three  or 
four  days  ago  about  three  thousand  Indians  were  taken  from  Mont- 
gomery, on  board  of  two  steamboats  chartered  for  the  purpose,  to 
Arkansas.  The  war  was  completed  much  sooner  than  I  anticipated, 
but  I  can't  conceive  that  any  or  much  praise  is  to  be  awarded  to 
the  whites  in  consequence.  The  credit  of  bringing  it  to  a  close 
is  principally  due  to  two  friendly  chiefs,  Opothlo  -  Yohola  and 
Jim-Boy. 

I  have  been  very  tardy  about  building  my  house,  etc. ;  the  fact  is, 
the  Creek  war  distracted  the  whole  country  so  much  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  to  do  anything  about  it.  I  could  not  procure  a  lot 
with  which  I  was  pleased,  and  thought  I  had  better  postpone  buying 
for  a  while.  I  had  rather  go  to  housekeeping  than  to  "board  out," 
and  shall  consequently  rent  a  house  and  lot,  provided  it  is  perfectly 
agreeable,  to  you,  which  I  shall  presume  to  be  the  case  unless  you 
say  otherwise. 

When  you  write,  pray  don't  forget  the  few  little  "  preliminaries  " 
I  mentioned  in  my  last  letter.  I  should  like  to  have  ail  these  little 
affairs  adjusted  and  understood. 

"What  in  the  world  "  is  the  reason  that  Rush  has  not  answered 
my  letter  ?  Not  the  scratch  of  a  pen  have  I  received  from  him  since 
we  parted  in  New  York.  Has  he  forgotten  me?  Is  it  accidental  or 
is  it  intentional?  It  can't  be.  He  must  either  not  have  received 
my  note,  or  else  his  answer  is  written  and  never  come  to  hand.  Do 
tell  him  to  write  to  me,  his  friend. 

Remember  me  dearly  to  Cousin  "Nancy  and  my  never-to-be-for- 
gotten friend  Mr.  Thormule.  Tell  Cousin  Mary  Ann  to  walk  Spanish 
and  Charlie  not  to  walk  crooked.  Give  my  love  to  your  dear  mother, 
and  sister  Mary.  Do  write  to  me,  my  dear  Theresa,  for  I  am  almost 
crazy  to  hear  from  yon. 

Good-night.    Farewell,  Theresa. 

J.  Maeiox  Sims. 


APPENDIX  I.  385 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  August  21,  1836. 

My  deak  Thekesa  :  I  received  your  very  affectionate  letter  this 
morning,  together  with  one  from  Sister  Marion,  and  Aunt  Sally, 
which  have  kept  me  on  the  "  grin  "  all  day.  I  don't  know  what 
would  have  become  of  me  if  they  had  not  come  to  hand  at  the  time, 
for  Rush  had  left  me  for  "  Sweet,  sweet  home  "  about  two  hours 
before.  I  scarcely  can  tell  how  the  last  week  has  slipped  away. 
Eush  (my  dearest  friend),  I  must  say,  has  been  as  liberal  with  me  in 
his  visit  as  I  could  have  asked,  considering  he  had  been  absent  so 
long  and  was  so  anxious  to  get  back.  He  ran  around  with  me  eight 
days,  and  when  he  left  I  had  on  (I  am  told)  a  face  about  a  yard  long, 
but  my  gloominess  was  wholly  dissipated  on  the  reception  of  your 
kind  letter.  Indeed,  Theresa,  if  you  only  knew  how  much  you 
could  and  have  contributed  to  my  happiness  and  contentment  by 
writing,  I  feel  confident  that  you  would  most  assuredly  exercise 
your  pen  more  frequently.  Don't  understand  me  as  complaining 
now,  for  I  have  already  done  that  sufficiently.  I  would  give  any- 
thing, at  least  something  handsome,  if  I  could  only  recall  the  scold- 
ing letter  I  wrote  you  by  your  brother  Rush.  You  will  receive  this 
though  before  he  can  get  home.  Consider,  then,  that  I  recall  every- 
thing in  the  shape  of  a  quarrel  which  I  have  unfortunately  written 
by  him.  I  am  sorry  that  I  did  not  put  it  off  a  while  longer,  but 
really  I  had  despaired  of  ever  receiving  the  scratch  of  a  pen  from  you 
again.  I  say  that  I  recall,  for  u  I  know  that  you,  too,  are  of  a  forgiving 
disposition.1'  It  gives  me  the  greatest  pleasure  imaginable  to  know 
that  you  have  spent  your  time  so  agreeably  during  the  summer,  for 
naturally  enough  I  am  only  happy  in  proportion  as  I  know  that  you 
are  so ;  there  is  nothing  surprising  in  the  sympathy  existing  between 
two  kindred  souls,  particularly  when  they  are  on  the  eve  of  being 
amalgamated,  united  into  one.  It  was  certainly  from  a  knowledge 
of  this  that  we  are  told  in  divine  revelation  to  "laugh  with  those 
that  laugh,  and  weep  with  those  that  weep."  But  I  perceive  that 
I  am  becoming  grave. 

Your  Uncle  Wash  and  Miss  Eaigan !  "Well,  I  was  truly  a  little 
surprised,  but  very  agreeably  so.  I  say  to  him,  Davy  Crockett  like, 
"  go  ahead."  "We  will  certainly  have  "  big  doings  "  in  old  Lancaster 
this  fall  if  Rush  and  Miss  Mourning,  your  Uncle  "Wash  and  Miss 
Raigan,  etc.,  etc.,  should  make  it  out.  "  The  more  the  merrier,"  as 
the  saying  is,  and  I  don't  care  how  many  there  are.     Why  don't 

17 


3S6  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

somebody  spur  George  up.  I  suppose,  though,  that  he  is  too  much 
devoted  to  his  profession  to  be  guilty  of  any  thing  like  this  kind  of 
gallantry.  I  am  sorry  for  those  Lancaster  boys,  they  are  as  bad  off 
for  some  object  to  bestow  their  affections  on  as  the  young  men  of 
Alabama ;  they  would  do  well  to  import  a  few  lassies,  or  at  least,  to 
transport  them.  I  should  like  very  much  to  see  the  young  man  in 
Sumter  you  say  looks  so  much  like  me,  for  I  have  never  yet  seen 
a  piece  of  flesh  I  thought  myself  to  resemble  except  one,  and  he  was 
as  ugly  as  sin  and  wicked  as  Satan  ;  physically,  perhaps,  there  was  a 
resemblance,  but,  morally,  I  must  say  there  was  none,  for  (I  think) 
I  am  not  half  as  bad  as  I  used  to  be.  I  don  t  allow  that  Sumter 
youngster  to  look  like  me,  and — but  no  matter— I  feel  mischievous 
this  evening  anyhow,  am  a  privileged  character  in  the  way  of  talk- 
ing and  writing.  Sisters,  Virginia,  Aunt  Sally  and  all  were  very 
well  on  the  8th  inst.,  and  had  nothing  to  do  but  visit,  as  this  is  the 
month  of  vacation.  Father  had  paid  them  a  visit  of  five  days,  and 
they  were  delighted.  Sally  tells  me  to  " have  patience,"  that  "De- 
cember "  will  be  here  before  long,  etc.,  she  says  she  has  bought  you  a 
"  bridal  present "  which  she  intended  sending  by  father.  The  ap- 
pointment of  the  special  day  you  have  so  kindly  and  liberally  given 
to  me,  that  I  designate  "  Wednesday,  the  fourteenth  of  December," 
provided,  etc.  Remember  the  fourteenth.  I  presume  you  will  have 
four  attendants,  as  it  is  the  order  of  the  day  (it  will  suit  me  per- 
fectly whether  we  have  half  a  dozen  or  none  at  all).  I  expect  Rush, 
Frank  Massey,  Bill  Davis  and  Le  Massey,  all  doctors.  That  will  be 
a  real  physical  wedding.  I  have  said  nothing  to  Rush  about  it  as 
yet ;  I  can  talk  to  anybody  else  with  greater  freedom  on  this  topic, 
and  yet  with  him  I  am  always  under  the  greatest  restraint.  "  'Tis 
strange."  I  am  not  tired  of  writing,  but  I  suppose  you  had  as  leave 
stop  reading.  I  therefore  accommodate  you.  Give  my  love  to  your 
dear  mother.  I  expect  to  trouble  her  with  a  brief  letter  some  day, 
provided  I  can  bring  my  courage  up  to  the  point. 

Farewell,  my  dear  Theresa. 

J.  Maeiox  Sims. 

Mount  Meigs,  Alabama,  October  10,  1836. 
Oh,  my  dear  Theresa,  I  received  your  very  affectionate  letter 
day  before  yesterday,  and  you  can't  possibly  imagine  the  effect  it 
had  on  my  spirits.     Since  I  wrote  to  Brother  Wash,  I  am  sorry  to 


APPENDIX  I.  387 

say  I  have  had  a  second  relapse  ;  however,  it  lasted  but  four  days, 
and  I  am  now  improving  rapidly.  I  am  able  to  walk  across  my 
room  (which  is  about  12  feet),  and  can  sit  straight  in  bed  (without  a 
prop)  whenever  I  eat.  You  may  perhaps  think  this  is  getting  along 
slowly,  but  I  assure  you  I  feel  proud  that  I  am  able  to  say  this  much. 
I  was  taken  sick  on  the  3d  of  September,  and  have  been  prostrated 
ever  since,  a  span  of  five  weeks.  I  am  reduced  to  nothing  but  skin 
and  bones  ;  it  could  not  have  been  otherwise,  for  I  have  been  literally 
physicked  to  death.  Once,  while  so  sick,  I  thought  that  I  was  going 
to  die.  "When  in  health  I  have  always  been  of  the  opinion  that  I 
could  face  death  without  any  dread,  but  there  is  a  grand  difference 
between  one's  feelings  while  blessed  with  a  strong  and  healthy  con- 
stitution and  when  the  body  is  emaciated,  worn  down  by  disease, 
and  covered  with  a  cold,  clammy  perspiration,  with  a  mind  corre- 
spondingly prostrated ;  then  is  the  time  that  death  appears  in  all  its 
terrors  to  the  mind  of  him  who  feels  conscious  that  his  course  of  life 
has  not  been  in  consistence  with  all  the  just  principles  of  moral  and 
religious  rectitude,  and  then  the  idea  of  dying  among  strangers. 
Oh,  it's  terrible  beyond  description  !  I  have  written  till  I  feel  very 
feeble  and  must  conclude.  As  soon  as  I  am  able  to  travel  from  here 
to  Carolina  I  intend  to  leave  here,  but  it  will  be  some  considerable 
time  first,  perhaps  not  before  the  20th  November.  If  I  should  im- 
prove faster  than  I  expect,  I  shall  come  sooner. 

Eease  Prin  and  the  doctor  passed  through  this  place  last  night. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howard  and  most  of  their  family  have  been  sick,  but 
are  now  well  or  improving.  McKinzie's  family  have  all  been  healthy. 
I  am  extremely  sorry  indeed  to  hear  that  Dr.  Brown  is  dead,  and 
that  Lancaster  has  been  so  wretchedly  sickly.  Dr.  Tom's  match 
surprised  me  no  little  I  assure  you.  How  do  Dr.  Wash  and  Sum- 
ter make  it  ?  Have  the  colonel  and  the  Sumter  widow  made  a 
bargain  or  not?  Rush  will  understand  why  I  have  not  written  to 
him.  Please  give  Rush,  your  dear  mother,  and  sister  Mary,  and  all 
the  family  my  love.  I  received  a  letter  from  Sister  Miriam  this 
morning  dated  29th  September.  All  were  then  well,  though  at  a  loss 
to  know  why  I  had  not  written  to  them.  When  I  get  straight  I'll 
make  the  mails  groan  with  letters,  for  time  lost  must  be  made  up. 

I  must  bid  you  adieu,  my  head  grows  dizzy. 

Farewell,  my  dear,  dear  Theresa. 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 


383  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Letter  to  his  Father  after  his  JRemoval  to  Hew  York. 

79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  Augmt  8, 1855. 

My  dear  Fathee  :  At  last  I  have  some  good  news  to  write  you, 
such  as  I  never  expected  till  within  the  last  month.  I  confess  I 
am  surprised  at  it,  and  perhaps  you  may  be  so  too.  "  I  am  still  not 
only  living,  but  feel  like  a  tolerably  sound  man  again.  I  have  never 
been  so  nigh  well  since  I  lost  my  health,  last  March  was  five  years 
ago.  I  know  I  can  not  write  you  better  news  than  this,  and  nothiDg 
that  should  unite  us  more  perfectly  in  lifting  our  hearts  in  thankful- 
ness to  Him  who  orders  all  things  wisely  and  well. 

It  is  strange  how  often  I  have  been  raised  up,  when  it  seemed 
impossible  for  me  to  live  ;  and  yet  not  strange  when  I  see  the  finger 
of  God  directing  so  plainly  a  destiny  which  I  pray  may  be  profitable 
to  others  on  earth,  and  profitable  to  me  in  eternity.  These  aflic- 
tions  are  necessary  to  my  spiritual  welfare,  they  are  necessary  to 
my  usefulness  here,  and  are  not  the  result  of  mere  accident.  I  know 
full  well  that  I  have  a  mission  to  fulfill — one  to  which  my  life  is 
most  willingly  devoted — but  which  should  not  interfere  with  my 
looking  forward  to  a  purer  existence  hereafter. 

You  and  I,  my  dear  father,  have  both  been  very  bad  men,  con- 
sidering we  were  almost  faultless  in  all  the  duties  and  relations  of 
life.  We  have  been  mere  moralists.  "We  thought  ourselves  as  good 
as  anybody,  and  far  better  than  most  people.  We  never  dreamed  of 
our  own  sinfulness  and  utter  unworthiness.  Instead  of  looking  to  a 
Saviour  for  help,  we  have  felt  in  our  own  hearts  a  plea  of  self-right- 
eousness, which  makes  us  occupy  a  more  dangerous  ground  than  the 
out-breaking  sinner.  Because  it  is  hard  for  us  who  are  good  moral- 
ists to  see  our  depravity,  while  the  blasphemer  and  law-breaker 
may  all  at  once  be  perfectly  overwhelmed  at  the  contemplation  of 
the  enormity  of  his  transgressions. 

When  we  occupy  such  a  dangerous  position,  one  so  securely  for- 
tified, how  are  we  to  be  brought  to  terms?  How  are  we  to  ac- 
knowledge that  we  are  rebels,  that  we  have  taken  up  arms  against 
our  Father?  He  has  said  that  nothing  but  an  unconditional  surren- 
der will  suit  Him,  and  He  has  pointed  out  the  only  way  that  He  will 
receive  our  approach.  The  Saviour  is  the  way.  But  have  we 
chosen  the  way?  or  have  we  come  up  presenting  our  own  merits 
and  pleading  our  own  justification?   Fathers  are  generally  forgiving 


APPENDIX  I.  389 

— you  know  that — for  you  have  had  to  forgive  much.  But  Our 
Father  in  Heaven  is  more  forgiving  than  all  others.  He  has  to  use 
different  means  with  his  several  rebellious  children,  according  to  cir- 
cumstances. With  those  who  are  strongly  fortified  on  the  almost 
unapproachable  hill  of  morality,  nothing  but  the  strongest  artillery 
will  do  any  good — small  arms  are  of  no  use.  They  are  only  scorned, 
laughed  at.     It  requires  long  guns  of  the  largest  size. 

Our  lives,  my  dear  father,  have  been  very  similar.  Our  success- 
es aud  contented  lot  in  early  life  and  our  moral  sort  of  religion  were 
alike.  Our  reverses  of  fortune  and  our  afflictions  have  been  simi- 
lar, occurring  about  the  same  period  of  our  career. 

Father,  these  reverses  and  afflictions  are  the  long  guns,  whose 
work  of  demolition  should  long  ago  have  brought  us  to- terms.  See 
what  afflictions  I  have  passed  through  in  the  last  four  years.  Till 
the  death  of  our  little  Merry  I  knew  no  great  trouble  (save  the  one 
that  gave  you  and  me  so  much  unhappiness).  Since  then  what  have 
I  not  suffered.  My  physical  diseases  were  not  so  great  as  Job's, 
but  then  they  seemed  almost  more  than  I  could  bear.  With  these 
came  the  maltreatment  and  persecutions  of  my  own  brothers-in-law ; 
then  money  tribulations ;  then  disappointments  in  men ;  then  an 
exile  from  home  and  friends ;  a  separation  from  the  father  whose 
declining  days  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  have  rendered  pleasant  and 
happy  ;  then  difficulties,  disappointments,  obstacles  and  tribulations 
here,  which,  superadded  to  my  real  physical  sufferings,  almost  drove 
me  to  the  mad-house ;  all  troubles  of  such  countless  variety  that  I 
care  not  to  recall  them  except  in  general  terms.  But  I  see  the  fin- 
ger of  God  in  all,  and  I  feel  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  me 
to  have  passed  through  precisely  what  I. have  to  make  me  what  I 
am.     One  blow  less  would  hardly  have  produced  the  desired  effect. 

I  have  said,  father,  that  our  lives  and  fortunes  have  not  been 
dissimilar.  My  own  happy  lot  and  subsequent  reverses  I  have 
briefly  recounted.  Bear  with  me  while  I  as  briefly  bring  to  mind 
yours.  I  tread  npon  sacred  ground,  but  it  is  one  that  a  dutiful  son 
may  well  survey  with  an  affectionate  father.  You  were  a  good 
moral  man,  fulfilling  admirably  all  the  duties  of  life.  As  a  son,  hus- 
band, father,  master,  private  citizen  or  public  officer,  you  were 
faultless.  You  know  it.  You  felt  it,  and  in  your  heart  you  told 
your  Heavenly  Father  so.  You  rested  your  claims  to  a  better  world 
hereafter  upon  your,  own  good  deeds  here.     You  felt  not  the  need 


390  THE   STOPwY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

of  a  Saviour  (I  judge,  of  course,  from  your  past  life,  aud  by  looking 
into  my  own  heart),  for  they  who  feel  the  need  of  a  physician  call 
out  for  help. 

God  prospered  you.  He  gave  you  health.  He  blessed  you  with 
a  wife  who  was  a  model  for  her  son.  He  gave  you  a  most  inter- 
esting family  of  children,  in  whom  your  heart  was  wrapped  up.  and 
for  whose  education  you  labored  and  sacrificed  yourself  as  only  a 
good  father  could  do.  He  gave  you  warm  and  true  friends.  Nh 
man  ever  had  letter.  He  gave  you  success  in  all  the  mere  earthly 
objects  of  life.  But  did  all  this  bring  you  nigher  to  the  good  Giver 
of  all  these  good  gifts.  Did  you  feel  that  they  came  from  Him. 
Did  you  feel  that  in  yourself  you  were  unworthy,  that  you  could 
not  come  directly  to  Him  pleading  your  own  good  works,  and  that 
you  must  approach  Him  through  a  Mediator  and  feel  your  need  of  a 
Saviour.  I  can  not  recall  any  evidences  of  this  during  this  time  of 
prosperity.  God  wanted  to  bring  the  heart  of  so  good  a  man  as  you 
nearer  to  Him.  Intrenched  as  you  were  on  the  great  hill  of  mo- 
rality, he  could  not  do  it  by  any  very  gentle  means.  Having  tried 
all  other  means,  the  heaviest  artillery  was  opened  upon  you.  The 
death  of  a  beautiful  boy,  ten  years  old,  was  the  first  Absalom  !  How 
it  wrung  your  heart !  Scarcely  less  than  did  the  death  of  Absalom, 
the  brat  of  poor  old  David!  Was  this  all?  oh.no!  would  to  God 
it  had  been  enough.  The  batteries  were  opened,  and  nothing  but  an 
unconditional  surrender  would  be  sufficient.  What  next  ?  A  few 
unimportant  reverses,  a  few  disappointments  in  men,  much  anxiety 
about  worldly  affairs,  defeat,  annoyances,  all  in  quick  succession, 
and  then  came  the  great  and  fatal  blow — the  death  of  my  mother. 

T9  Madison  Avenue,  Xetv  York,  December  23,  1854* 
My  deab  Theeesa  :  We  are  all  getting  on  as  well  as  it  is  pos- 
sible for  us  to  do  in  your  absence.  We  try  to  do  the  best  we  can. 
Knickerbocker  is  less  fretful  to-night  than  he  has  been  at  any  time 
since  you  left.  Of  course  you  know  he  has  been  fretting  only  be- 
cause he  misses  you.  and  not  in  consequence  of  the  vaccination,  for 
that  is  drying  up.  Mrs.  MeC.  washes  and  dresses  the  little  fellow 
every  morning.  I  don't  see  him  as  often  as  I  expected.  Mary 
brought  him  down  yesterday  afternoon  after  her  return  from  school. 
She  says  they  had  a  big  time  at  the  school  yesterday.  The  presen- 
tation to  Miss  Miller  of  a  silver  pitcher  by  her  pupils  was  made,  when 


APPENDIX  I.  391 

she  resigned  her  charge,  amid  a  general  bellowing  of  the  young 
animals.  I  hope  her  successor  may  be  as  competent  and  as  good 
as  she  is.  It's  a  great  loss  to  us  to  part  with  her,  and  I  can  not  but 
feel  very  anxious  about  the  new  superintendent. 

Granville  went  to  Flatbush  to-day,  and  begged  me  to  let  him  stay 
with  Johnny  during  the  whole  vacation,  till  Tuesday  week,  the  2d 
of  January,  but  I  told  him  it  would  not  be  proper  for  him  to  tire 
the  good  people  out  entirely,  and  he  must  come  home  on  Wednes- 
day. You  and  Harry,  Sharpey  and  Fanny  all  being  absent,  makes 
quite  a  vacuum  in  our  family  circle.  Mary  and  Eliza  are  nice  girls. 
They  behave  with  great  propriety.  They  are  quiet  and  dignified. 
They  remain  mostly  in  their  rooms,  occasionally  sit  awhile  in  the 
office.  I  can't  help  praising  them  up  a  little  even  to  their  mother. 
You  very  well  know  that  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  praising  either 
of  them,  so  you  may  feel  sure  that  it  is  from  no  disposition  to  flat- 
ter. I  am  making  up  my  mind  to  change  their  music  teacher,  al- 
though I  have  not  mentioned  it  to  either  of  them.  Having  the  opin- 
ion that  I  do  of  madame,  and  knowing  what  you  think  of  her,  I 
don't  think  we  should  retain  her  as  a  teacher  after  this  quarter. 

Cold !  cold  !  gloriously  cold !  The  weather  is  magnificent.  It 
has  been  intensely  cold  ever  since  you  left.  First-rate  hog-killing 
time.  I  know  they  would  be  glad  of  a  touch  of  this  sort  of  weather 
round  about  Montgomery.  It  is  now  midnight,  and  it  is  sleeting 
hard — too  cold  to  snow — but,  while  I  am  luxuriating  in  the  cold,  it 
carries  distress  into  the  haunts  of  the  poor.  The  distress  here  can 
hardly  be  imagined.  Several  meetings  of  mechanics  out  of  employ 
have  been  held  in  the  park,  and  some  most  inflammatory  speeches 
made,  where  the  speakers  were  loudly  cheered  when  they  spoke  of 
oppression  of  capital  over  labor,  and  the  necessity,  if  it  came  to  the 
worst,  of  bursting  the  doors  of  storehouses  and  taking  what  they 
want. 

"What  a  contrast  between  this  country  and  the  South.  Here  we 
have  vagrancy  and  pauperism,  and  all  its  attendant  ills  of  vice,  crime, 
and  degradation,  which  we  never  see  in  a  slave  population.  Here 
I  feel  that  the  time  may  come  when  a  man  may  not  be  secure  in  the 
accumulation  or  enjoyment  of  wealth.  The  great  and  good  Peter 
Cooper  says  that  the  millionaires  of  this  country  have  much  to  dread 
from  the  popular  voice;  that  the  time  may  come  when  the  masses 
may  vote  away,  confiscate,  as  it  were,  their  hoarded  wealth — but 


:    _  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

this  is  not  the  theme  for  a  letter  to  you.  We  are  here  and  can't 
help  ourselves.  Providence  has  placed  us  here  and  will,  I  have  no 
doubt,  take  care  of  us. 

I  have  been  to  see  Mrs.  Peck  to-night.  She  is  as  courageous  as 
BTer.  I  find  that  she  is  not  only  interested  in  the  hospital  move- 
ment, but  she  is  feeling  great  interest  in  my  own  business.  She 
wanted  to  know  whether  I  would  go  to  see  a  lady  friend  of  hers, 
who  had  been  complaining  for  some  time  and  was  not  wholly  satis- 
fied about  her  condition.  So  you  see  how  the  great  movement  will 
operate  when  we  gel  it  properly  started;  but  money!  money! 
money !  How  are  we  to  live  till  I  can  get  properly  at  work — I  have 
but  two  dollars ;  don't  like  to  call  on  Mr.  Clay  for  any  more.  My 
clothes  are  not  good  enough  for  me  to  make  the  appearance  that  I 
ought,  considering  my  claims  and  pretensions,  so  I  am  obliged  to 
have  a  decent  suit,  but  how  it  is  to  come  I  don't  know.  Although 
I  write  thus,  don't  think  for  a  moment  I  am  despondent:  I  never 
felt  more  confident  of  success  or  more  cheerful.  I  am  not  gloomy. 
I  feel  a  power  within  me  that  is  irresistible.  I  feel  that  I  am  in  the 
hands  of  God,  that  I  have  a  high  and  holy  mission  to  perform,  that 
his  blessing  has  already  crowned  my  efforts,  and  that  He  will  in  due 
time  raise  up  friends  to  assist  me  in  my  labors.  This  is  coming 
about  daily.  How  differently  am  I  situated  from  what  I  was  three 
months  ago,  and  I  am  gaining  power  almost  hourly. 

S|i&. — Have  been  to  hear  Dr.  Adams  to-day.  The  new  church 
at  the  foot  of  Madison  Avenue  was  dedicated.  Went  there  again 
to-night  to  hear  Dr.  Bethune,  but  the  house  was  so  crowded  that  I 
could  not  stand  the  ritecL  contaminated  air  of  the  place.  I  rather 
liked  Dr.  Adams.  The  church  is  a  good  one  to  hear  in,  and  I  would 
be  willing  to  have  a  pew  there  if  they  are  not  rented  at  too  great 
a  price. 

Mrs.  Greer  has  volunteered  to  call  in  her  carriage  some  morning 
soon,  and  take  me  down  to  Amir  Street,  and  introduce  me  to  some 
rich,  working  women  who  will  help  me  with  the  hospital.  One  of 
the  Conncilmen  called  on  me  with  Mr.  Stna::  ;  restenhy,  but  I  was 
not  at  home.  I  am  to  see  him  soon.  Mr.  Stuart  is  to  introduce 
me  to  the  Ifayoi  ~L.:;  week,  and  to  several  of  the  Conncilmen. 
yon  see  the  work  goes  bravely  on.  It  would  have  ruined  every- 
thing if  I  had  left  here  for  a  month. 

I  I  ray  God  you  may  be  able  to  arrange  our  affairs  so  as  to  secure 


APPENDIX  I.  393 

the  daily  bread  for  a  year  to  come.  About  the  negroes — well,  I 
think  it  best  to  sell  them.  We  are  bound  to  do  it  some  time,  and  I 
don't  see  why  it  should  be  procrastinated.  They  might  not  sell  as 
well  as  they  would  some  time  ago,  but  I  reckon  they  would  bring 
good  prices  if  they  were  sold  on  time  with  good  security ;  but  do 
as  you  and  Mr.  Lucas  and  father  may  on  consultation  think  best. 
We  must  live,  and  my  present  position  must  be  maintained  here,  let 
it  cost  what  it  may.  I  can't  back  out,  nor  would  I  if  I  could.  The 
prize  is  too  great,  too  glittering,  not  to  be  grasped  when  it  seems  so 
easy  to  do  it. 

It  is  Christmas  eve  and  midnight.  I  have  just  been  up  to  the 
children's  room.  They  are  fast  asleep,  and  have  hung  up  stockings 
near  my  bed  for  old  Santa  Claus.  How  they  will  be  disappointed 
in  the  morning.  Well,  I  must  get  them  something  to-morrow. 
Negroes  and  children  always  expect  liberal  presents  on  Christmas. 
I  was  too  busy  yesterday  to  think  of  such  things,  and  to-day  being 
Sunday  puts  it  out  of  my  power,  even  if  I  had  money.  "What  do  I 
care  for  money — I  have  what  is  better  than  money,  and  what  money 
can  not  buy,  I  have  health.  I  feel  that  I  have  an  honest  heart,  and 
a  mind  intent  upon  great  and  good  purposes.  I  have  a  loving,  con- 
fiding wife.  I  have  dutiful  and  healthy  children.  I  have  friends  a 
plenty,  the  comforts  of  a  good  home,  and  an  almost  illimitable  pros- 
pect of  future  usefulness.  Good  God!  was  ever  man  more  blessed 
on  this  earth.  Why,  then,  should  I  feel  uneasy  a  moment  about  a 
few  hundred  contemptible  coppers,  when  I  know  that  this  scarcity 
is  but  temporary,  and  that  the  time  must  soon  come  when  I  shall 
have  an  abundance. 

Kiss  Harry  for  me.  Eemember  me  to  father,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Lucas,  and  the  lots  of  friends  you  may  see,  and  believe  me,  my  dear 
wife,  ever  your  devoted  husband,  J.  Marion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 


79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  December  25,  1854- 
My  dear  Theresa  :  I  have  been  at  home  all  day.  Mr.  Stuart 
dined  with  us.  AVe  have  had  rather  a  stupid  time  of  it.  Mr.  R. 
and  myself  played  a  game  of  chess  just  before  dinner#  It  was  too 
hard  work,  and  I  told  him  he  could  not  rob  me  of  another  hour  and 
a  half  so  profitlessly.     He  made  the  chess  a  Christmas  present  to 


394:  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

Mary.  To  Eliza  he  gave  a  Deat  breast-pin,  to  Carrie  some  candies. 
The  other  girls  went  down  to  see  Mrs.  Swezey  this  afternoon. 
They  took  tea  with  her,  and  Mr.  S.  came  home  with  them.  Carrie 
and  the  Kissam  children  went  next  door,  and  with  the  Green  chil- 
dren have  had  quite  a  frolic  since  tea,  while  Mary  and  Eliza  have 
been  up-stairs  with  Knickerbocker.  I  am  fully  repaid  for  your  ab- 
sence, by  having  an  opportunity  of  finding  out  more  of  our  two  old- 
est children.  It  is  odd  that  a  father  should  know  so  little  of  his 
children,  and  unfortunate  that  he  should  be  so  incapable  of  under- 
standing and  appreciating  their  true  worth.  Mary  and  Eliza  both 
exhibit  so  much  good  sense,  such  decorous  deportment,  such  gentle- 
ness and  such  affection  for  each  other,  that  I  am  quite  in  love  with 
them.  Willie  is  the  best  boy  in  the  city.  He  improves  daily.  It 
is  really  ridiculous  to  see  Mrs.  McCerren  curling  his  hair — hair  that 
is  so  rudimentary  that  it  requires  a  microscope  to  see  it.  His  arm 
is  getting  well.  I  think  he  is  two  or  three  pounds  heavier  than 
when  you  left.  Tell  my  Alabama  boy  that  there  is  danger  of  the 
old  Harry  being  supplanted  by  old  Knick. 

Our  household  is  getting  on  very  well.  The  children  were  all 
allowed  to  dine  at  the  first  table  to-day,  and  they  behaved  very 
well.  Mrs.  S.  gave  them  a  big  dinner.  The  Catholics  had  a  great 
time  last  night.  They  had  high  mass  at  midnight  and  did  not  get 
home  till  about  two  o'clock,  and  poor  old  Mrs.  D.  has  had  the 
mulligrubs  all  day.  Truly,  I  have  never  seen  any  one  whose  re- 
ligious duties  so  mortify  the  flesh  as  do  her  fastings  and  prayers. 
She  was  never  intended  for  a  Catholic.  She  is  so  only  by  accident 
and  a  forced  habit. 

I  was  complaining  to  you  yesterday  about  my  clothes.  To-day 
I  hunted  up  a  coat  that  was  laid  aside  last  spring,  and  Mary  Doyle 
gave  it  a  good  scrubbing,  so  that  I  have  determined  to  make  it 
carry  me  through  the  holidays  rather  than  ask  credit  or  borrow  any 
more  money,  although  I  am  satisfied  that  I  ought  to  dress  better 
than  I  do.  But  I  feel  that  a  clear  head  and  a  good  heart  are  far 
better  than  fine  linen  and  fine  clothes.  It's  good  to  be  poor,  pro- 
vided that  poverty  does  not  oppress  and  wholly  crush  us  out.  I  am 
just  about  poor  enough  to  be  stimulated  to  extraordinary  efforts ; 
yet  I  feel  that  if  I  was  a  little  more  distressed  I  could  hardly  bear 
it.  God  in  His  mercy  has,  in  my  case,  most  assuredly  tempered  the 
wind  to  the  shorn  lamb.     Am  I  not  peculiarly  blessed  ?     Does  not 


APPENDIX  I.  395 

the  light  shine  in  upon  our  darkened  path  as  we  never  dreamed  of 
seeing  it  ?  Is  not  the  finger  of  God  visible  in  all  our  afflictions  ?  Is 
He  not  blessing  us  more  than  we  deserve?  Oh,  what  a  glorious 
thing  it  is  to  feel,  to  know,  to  realize  that  you  are  a  blessed  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  God  for  the  accomplishment  of  good!  When 
I  pause  to  consider  what  I  have  done  here,  and  how  it  has  been 
effected,  I  can  not  but  acknowledge  that  an  overruling  Providence 
has  wisely  directed  all  things  for  the  best.  When  I  look  back  and 
remember  bow  my  heart  quailed  before  the  dangers  that  surrounded 
us,  how  I  was  just  on  the  eve  of  surrendering  all  as  lost,  bow  de- 
spair almost  drove  me  to  madness,  and  when  I  call  to  mind  your 
gentle  tones  of  encouragement,  your  blind  and  implicit  reliance 
upon  Divine  Providence,  your  high  moral  fortitude  and  self-sacri- 
ficing efforts,  dare  I  say  I  would  have  had  it  otherwise?  No,  no. 
It  is  all  for  the  best,  and  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when*  we  shall 
rejoice  that  we  have  passed  through  this  period  of  tribulation  ;  when 
we  shall  really  laugh  at  the  remembrance  of  the  tears  of  bitterness 
that  were  then  shed.  Was  ever  a  man's  wife  more  literally  his 
ministering  angel?  Every  period  of  my  life,  from  youth  to  the 
present  hour,  attests  the  fact.  All  that  I  am  and  hope  to  be  I  owe 
to  you.  How  different  would  have  been  my  destiny  but  for  the 
influence  exercised  by  you  1 

Indeed,  my  dear  wife,  I  fear  I  am  hardly  a  worthy  husband  ; 
but  it  is  not  in  my  nature  to  be  a  better  one. 

May  God  bless  you  in  your  mission,  and  return  you  safely  to 
your  family,  is  the  prayer  of  your  devoted  husband, 

J.  Marion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  December  29,  1854- 
My  deak  Theresa  :  The  more  I  think  of  the  negroes,  the  more 
am  I  satisfied  that  it  is  wholly  to  their  advantage  to  have  good 
homes.  Let  them  understand  that  is  impossible  for  us  to  keep  them, 
that  our  necessities  will  compel  us  to  a  sale  at  no  distant  day,  per- 
haps in  less  than  a  year,  and  that  it  is  better  for  them  to  have  homes 
of  their  own  selection  than  to  be  sold  under  a  mortgage  to  the 
highest  bidder,  for  then  they  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  traders  and 
be  carried  clear  off.  If  we  could  afford  to  keep  them,  we  would  be 
glad  to  do  so,  but  already  are  there  mortgages  on  some  of  them,  and 


396  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

there  is  no  telling  when  they  may  be  foreclosed.  It  is  true  that  the 
evil  day  may  be  postponed  for  a  little  while  longer,  but  it  is  certain 
to  come,  and  we  only  consult  the  interests  cf  the  negroes  by  asking 
them  to  select  homes  now. 

Oupe  must  be  sold,  it  matters  not  how  things  go,  and  all  the  rest 
had  better  make  up  their  minds  to  it.  As  to  Abby's  coming  here, 
I  am  satisfied  it  would  not  suit  her.  She  would  never  be  happy 
here,  and  then  we  would  have  to  let  her  go  back  again,  and  really,  in 
our  embarrassed,  circumstances,  the  luxury  of  gratifying  her  would 
be  entirely  too  expensive.  If  we  had  our  own  house,  so  we  could 
give  her  a  comfortable  room  and  make  her  happy,  we  might  think 
of  bringing  her.  It  seems  to  me  the  best  plan  is  for  them  all  to 
select  their  homes,  and,  if  the  persons  they  severally  wish  to  live 
with  are  not  able  to  pay  down  the  purchase  money,  they  can  be  sold 
on  any  reasonable  time,  by  having  payment  secured  by  undoubted 
paper.  If  they  determine  not  to  do  this,  they  must  take  the  conse- 
quence, and  absolve  us  from  blame,  if  by-and-by  they  should  find 
cause  to  regret  it.  Let  them  understand  our  straitened  circum- 
stances, that  we  are  obliged  to  live,  that  we  have  now  no  means  but 
by  sacrificing  property,  if  our  friends  do  not  step  forward  and  help 
us,  and  they  will  certainly  see  the  dilemma  in  which  we  are  placed, 
that  the  proposition  to  sell  them  is  not  one  of  choice,  but  of  dire 
necessity.  Let  them  know  that  it  would  be  to  our  advantage  to  re- 
tain them,  as  it  would  afford  us  an  income  from  their  hire  which 
would  be  of  great  assistance  to  us.  Let  them  know,  too,  that  it  lacer- 
ates our  hearts  as  much  it  does  theirs  to  be  compelled  to  the  course 
we  suggest.  As  you  are  there  among  them,  I  see  that  you  have  a 
difficult  task  before  you.     My  heart  aches  at  its  contemplation. 

The  Sayne  children  are  here.  All's  well.  Knick  is  doing  finely. 
He  will  captivate  you  completely  when  you  get  back  again.  His 
hair  grows  finely.  I  should  suppose  it  was  at  least  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  long.  You  can  see  it  without  holding  him  sidewise  in  the  sun. 
Tell  the  Alabama  boy  that  the  Knickerbocker  brother  sends  a  heap 
of  love  to  him  and  wishes  to  see  him.  I  hope  Harry  is  a  good  boy, 
and  that  he  will  return  home  greatly  improved  by  his  extensive 
travels. 

I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  Dr.  J.  He  has  not  written  me  a 
word  about  Mrs.  S.  in  a  week.  I  suppose,  however,  that  she  is 
doing  well  or  he  would  be  clamorous  for  my  presence  up  there. 


APPENDIX  I.  397 

Mr.  R.  calls  for  the  letter,  so  I  must  close.  I  can't  pretend  to 
particularize,  where  we  have  so  many  friends,  but  just  remem- 
ber me  with  gratitude  to  all.  To  them  I  owe  everything.  But 
for  their  just  appreciation  and  tender  care  of  me,  when  I  needed  it, 
I  could  have  done  nothing.  No  man  ever  had  better  or  truer  friends, 
and  no  man's  heart  was  ever  more  bitterly  wrung  at  separating  from 
such.  But  it  is  all  right.  This  expatriation,  as  it  were,  almost 
made  me  mad,  but  now  I  would  not  have  it  otherwise. 

May  God  bless  you,  my  dear  wife,  and  return  you  safely  to  your 
affectionate  husband,  J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

*79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  December  31,  185Jf. 
My  dear  Theresa  :  It  is  near  midnight,  and  the  old  year  is 
flickering  out.  Ah !  what  saddening  thoughts  are  always  associated 
with  the  death,  even  of  time.  The  birth  of  the  New-Year  brings  with 
it  bright  hopes,  the  realization  of  which  depends  more  upon  ourselves 
than  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  "While  we  regret  the  misspent  time  of 
the  old  year,  let  us  resolve  to  profit  by  past  experience,  and  improve 
every  moment  of  the  new.  We  will  soon  be  old.  What  we  do  in  this 
life  must  be  done  quickly.  Look  back.  Eighteen  years  have  we 
been  one.  Our  lives  have  glided  smoothly,  happily.  We  have  lived 
for  each  other.  Mutual  confidence  and  mutual  love  have  made  us 
as  happy  as  it  is  possible  for  mortals  to  be.  We  have  been  blessed 
with  dutiful,  fine  children.  We  have  had  all  the  comforts,  nay,  even 
the  luxuries  of  life.  We  have  had  more  than  the  average  degree  of 
health.  We  have  been  blessed  with  friends,  and  the  great  objects 
of  life  with  us  have  been  eminently  successful.  Have  we  not  much 
to  be  thankful  for?  Have  we  been  really  sufficiently  so?  Have  we 
done  our  duty  to  our  children,  to  ourselves,  to  our  God?  We  have 
not.  We  have  well  and  faithfully  fulfilled  all  the  other  relations 
of  life,  but  the  moral  culture  of  our  children  we  have  neglected,  our 
own  religious  promptings  we  have  smothered,  and  the  whisperings, 
nay,  the  loud  calls  of  the  Holy  Spirit  we  have  slighted.  Do  we 
not  then  stand  self-condemned  ?  What,  then,  is  to  be  done  ?  Repent 
and  give  our  hearts  to  God.  Let  us  try  to  do  this  and  we  shall  feel 
that  we  are  in  the  line  of  our  duty.  Why  hesitate  ?  Why  wait  a 
moment  ?  A  public  profession  of  the  religion  that  I  know  glows  in 
your  heart  is  all  that  is  needed.     The  power  of  your  example  will 


398  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

do  more  for  the  moral  elevation  and  religious  culture  of  the  rest  of 
us  than  whole  volumes  of  sermons.  Your  whole  life  is  a  sermon. 
"Why  not,  then,  preach  it  ?  Your  heart  is  full  of  religion.  Why  not, 
then,  openly  declare  it  ?  If  you  do  not  take  the  first  step  forward, 
then  we  shall  remain  in  the  darkness  and  doubt.  But  do  you  say 
there  is  no  church  here  for  you  to  unite  with  ?  This  poor  excuse 
can  not  exist  after  this.  At  last  I  have  found  the  house  of  God  I 
was  willing  to  visit  a  second  time — the  man  I  was  glad  to  hear 
more  than  once.  It  is  Dr.  Adams.  You  can  not  but  be  pleased 
with  him.  Religion  is  a  matter  of  culture.  The  preached  word  is 
as  necessary  to  the  growth  of  grace  as  is  rain  to  the  growth  of  grain. 
Ah !  my  dear  wife,  we  have  been  too  happy  in  ourselves  to  give 
much  attention  to  spiritual  affairs.  But,  while  we  are  still  happy, 
let  us  not  longer  forget  what  is  so  palpably  our  duty. 

January  1,  1855.— Five  hours  of  quiet  rest  have  infused  new  life 
into  me  for  the  day.  What  a  beautiful,  bright,  glorious  day !  The 
sun  is  just  rising,  and  all  nature  favors  the  gay  season.  Everything 
is  frozen  up  ;  the  streets  are  therefore  dry  and  favorable  to  pedes- 
trians. The  air  light,  bracing  and  life-giving.  What  a  day  is  this 
in  New  York!  Who  will  rejoice  more  than  the  ladies  when  its 
rollicking  jollities  are  over?  Would  you  suppose  I  had  the  names  of 
forty-eight  on  my  list  of  calls  ?  I  expect  to  get  to  about  half  a  dozen 
places.  You  know  how  I  hate  mere  idle  compliments,  bowing  in 
and  bobbing  out.  I  would  not  go  at  all,  but  I  may  have  a  chance  to 
drop  a  good  word  somewhere  for  the  advancement  of  the  cause,  the 
cause  of  poor  suffering  woman.  This  is  at  the  bottom  of  my  breast, 
it  is  at  the  top  of  my  throat,  it  fills  my  brain.  It  is  the  grand  moral 
object  of  my  professional  life.  For  this  I  work,  for  you  I  live. 
Your  affectionate  husband, 

J.  Mabion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  January  7,  1854. 
My  deae  Theeesa  :  Your  welcome  New- Year's  letter  was  re- 
ceived yesterday,  and  afforded  me  great  gratification  to  see  how  much 
better  you  are  attending  to  the  great  objects  of  your  mission  than  I 
could  have  done — while  it  would  certainly  have  been  almost  ruinous 
for  me  to  have  left  here.  The  work  goes  on  bravely.  Last  night 
Mrs.  Hutchings  took  me  to  see  Mrs.  Dr.  Marvin,  a  lady  who  was 


APPENDIX  I.  399 

instrumental  in  founding  and  managing  the  "  Home  of  the  Friend- 
less." She  lives  in  Brooklyn,  but  is  on  a  visit  at  Mrs.  Stone's,  who 
is  one  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  aristocracy.  I  never  felt  better,  and 
they  gave  me  scope  to  explain  all  my  plans.  Mrs.  M.  will  become  a 
co-worker,  and  will  join  Mrs.  Peck  and  others,  and  I  think,  from 
the  great  interest  manifested  by  Mrs.  Stone,  that  she  too  will  join 
in  the  movement.  To-morrow  morning,  at  half  past  nine  o'clock,  I 
am  to  call  at  Mrs.  Stone's  to  accompany  Mrs.  M.  to  see  Mrs.  Haw- 
kins, who  was  the  prime  mover,  the  real  mother  of  the  "Home." 
I  pray  God  to  give  me  wisdom,  the  power  of  language,  and  tact  to 
enlist  her  and  others  on  the  side  of  this  great  humanitary  move- 
ment. 

Next  to  you  and  our  children  stands  in  my  affections  the  success 
of  this  glorious  mission.  When  I  look  into  my  heart  I  do  not  see 
that  my  motives  are  at  all  selfish.  The  only  selfishness  that  I  feel 
is  the  desire  to  do  good,  to  be  a  benefactor  of  my  race,  and  I  sin- 
cerely pray  that  my  labors  may  be  blessed,  so  far  as  they  tend  to 
relieve  suffering  humanity,  to  advance  the  cause  of  science,  and  to 
elevate  the  condition  of  the  medical  profession.  You  can  under- 
stand me.  The  world  may  not.  It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  feel  that 
you  are  above  the  dross  and  glitter  of  mere  pageantry.  Money  is 
trash,  and  may  be  blown  away  by  the  wind.  Honors  are  evanes- 
cent, and  may  be  snatched  by  another.  Even  reputation  may  be 
tarnished  by  the  slanderous  tongue  of  an  envious  villain,  but  the 
proud  consciousness  of  rectitude,  coupled  with  true  benevolence, 
lives  in  the  heart  of  its  possessor,  and  is  as  immortal  as  the  soul 
itself. 

I  have  heard  to-day  three  good  sermons.  The  morning  and 
evening  services  at  Dr.  Adams's.  I  like  him  very  much,  and  I  am 
sure  you  will  be  pleased  with  him.  The  pews  there  are  to  be  sold 
on  Wednesday  night.  I  fear  they  will  exclude  us  poor  folks  from 
the  church.  I  hope,  however,  we  shall  always  be  able  to  find  a 
place  there  whenever  we  wish  to  worship  with  them.  The  after- 
noon service  I  attended  at  Dr.  Van  Ness's  in  Twenty-first  Street 
near  Sixth  Avenue,  where  the  Eev.  Mr.  Ouyler  preached  to  young 
women  on  their  Christian  duties  and  destiny.  It  was  a  very  elo- 
quent address.  Mr.  B.  generally  goes  to  church  with  me.  I  have 
become  quite  attached  to  him,  and  also  to  Mr.  D.,  who  I  find  to  be  a 
very  clever  fellow  indeed. 


400  THE  STOPwY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Watkins  two  days  ago.  She  had 
arrived  safely ;  found  all  well.  She  was  a  show^  in  Huntsville,  and 
seems  to  have  been  lionized.  Mrs.  Coles,  her  cousin,  will  come  on  as 
soon  as  she  hears  that  there  is  room  in  the  house  for  her. 

The  children  are  all  well,  and  Willie  is  the  best  child  I  ever  saw. 
Mary  stuffs  him  all  the  time.  She  keeps  him  chock  full.  He  has 
no  time  to  be  bad.  He  eats  and  sleeps,  laughs  and  grows  fat.  You 
will  hardly  know  him  when  you  get  home,  and  I  am  sure  he  will 
hardly  know  you  either.  He  is  the  admiration  of  the  household, 
and  tell  Harry  he  is  becoming  quite  a  pet  with  his  papa. 

Remember  me,  my  dear  wife,  kindly  to  all  our  friends,  and,  be- 
lieve me,  your  devoted  husband,  J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

P.  S. — We  are  all  as  anxious  to  have  you  at  home  as  you  can 
be  to  get  here,  but  don't  you  think  you  had  better  take  a  week 
longer  and  make  a  pop  call  on  Aunt  Betsey  and  Sister  Mary.  Think 
of  it.  JJ.S. 


79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  January  2,  1855. 

Mr  deae  Theeesa  :  Your  letter  of  the  26th  makes  me  easy  on 
a  very  important  matter — the  money  for  which  Mr.  Lucas  is  my 
security,  and  what  I  owe  him.  Certainly  this  removes  a  great 
weight  from  us,  and  I  can  not  feel  thankful  enough  in  being  blessed 
with  so  good  a  friend.  I  know  you  will  do  what  is  exactly  right  in 
reference  to  the  negroes.  Sell  what  are  necessary  for  immediate 
purposes.  They  will  be  sacrificed,  but  no  matter,  we  must  live,  let 
it  cost  what  it  may. 

Times  are  tight,  but,  thank  God,  we  have  good  friends,  some 
means,  and  a  stout  heart.  I  have  never  felt  firmer.  Indeed,  I  am 
getting  stronger  in  my  position  every  day.  I  have  had  several  con- 
sultations since  you  left.  To-day  saw  a  case  of  ovarian  disease. 
*  I  have  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Gilbert,  the  wife  of  the 
elegant  and  efficient  clerk  of  the  Board  of  Education.  She  volun- 
teered to  help  me  in  the  hospital  movement,  and  is  willing  to  take 
a  place  on  the  Executive  Committee.  She  is  a  working  woman. 
Has  brains  as  well  as  a  heart.  To  acquire  so  efficient  a  woman  is  a 
good  evening's  work  for  the  great  cause.  I  did  not  get  through 
with  my  calls  yesterday,  and  that  was  the  reason  of  my  calling  on 


APPENDIX  I.  401 

Mrs.  Gilbert  to-night.  I  told  you  in  my  letter  yesterday  that  some 
good  would  come  out  of  these  New- Year's  calls.  Two  days  in  the 
year  mark  us  as  a  peculiar  people — the  1st  of  May  and  the  1st  of 
January.  On  May-day  everything  and  everybody  is  en  deshabille, 
but  on  New- Year's  day  all  is  prim  and  tidy. 

But  for  Dr.  Stillman  I  should  have  made  a  booby  of  myself  stay- 
ing at  home  all  day,  after  calling  on  three  or  four  of  our  neighbors. 
He  came  in  and  said  I  was  going  to  do  a  very  stupid  thing  if  I  re- 
mained at  home,  and  so  with  him  I  had  to  go.  We  called  together 
at  Mrs.  Dodge's,  Peter  Cooper's,  Curtis's,  and  some  others  of  the 
upper-ten,  when  I  got  fairly  in  for  it  and  continued  calling  till  after 
nine  o'clock.  And  I  found  out  that  the  ladies,  after  getting  every- 
thing ready,  are  really  disappointed  if  their  friends*  do  not  come. 
So  you  see  Dr.  Stillman  saved  me  from  making  the  silly  mistake  of 
staying  at  home.  I  went  to  thirty-three  places,  and  got  home  more 
sober  than  some  of  my  friends.  Mary  and  Eliza  received  your  calls, 
and  entertained  your  friends  with  sweetmeats  and  hot  coffee.  I 
had  long  cozy  times  at  Mrs.  Pryor's,  Mrs.  Kate  Emmet's,  Mrs. 
Clay's,  Mrs.  Hutching's  (tell  Miss  Martha  they  all  looked  well 
there),  and  at  Mrs.  Crane's. 

Well,  I  must  brag  a  little  about  Knick.  He  is  the  best  boy  of 
his  age  in  New  York,  and  he  grows  so  rapidly  you  will  not  know 
him  when  you  get  home.  Mrs.  McCerren  takes  great  pains  with 
him,  and  makes  him  look  very  nice  indeed.  I  think  him  much  bet- 
ter-looking than  Harry  was  at  the  same  age. 

There's  luck  in  leisure.  I  hope  Miss  Mary  will  have  a  good  time 
of  it,  and  that  her  home  will  be  as  good  as  she  deserves,  and  her  life 
as  happy  as  it  is  possible  for  a  married  woman's  to  be. 

Sorry  to  hear  that  Puss  has  been  Taylored,  but  of  course  this 
gives  Mrs.  W.  a  fair  chance  to  come  out,  as  she  could  not  now  be  a 
rival  of  her  daughter. 

I  go  to  Portland  to-morrow.  Hope  I  shall  get  a  letter  from  you 
before  I  leave. 

The  children  started  to  school  to-day.  They  like  Miss  Miller's 
substitute  pretty  well.  I  hope  she  will  prove  worthy  of  her  high 
trust. 

Two  things  I  want  you  to  do.  Get  Mr.  Powell  to  put  up  some 
new  pine  (heart  pine)  boards  at  our  little  Merry's  grave,  to  mark 
the  place  yet  a  while  longer.    I  hope  we  will  soon  be  able  to  get 


402  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

Mr.  Swezey  to  put  up  something  handsome  for  us  in  the  way  of  a 
monument.  The  other  is,  to  bring  with  you  your  picture,  painted 
when  you  were  seventeen  years  old.  Don't  forget  it.  You  can 
roll  it  round  something.  "Well,  take  a  sheet  of  pasteboard  and  roll 
it  up  so  as  to  make  it  about  six  inches  in  diameter,  and  then  roll 
the  picture  round  this.  Don't  forget  it.  I  have  set  my  heart  on  it. 
I  just  want  to  see  how  much  better-looking  you  are  now  than  you 
were  at  seventeen,  that's  all.  Take  your  time  to  come  home.  Make 
your  visit  as  agreeable  as  it  is  possible  under  the  circumstances. 
Don't  let  anything  either  there  or  at  home  mar  the  pleasure  of  the 
trip.  Your  affectionate  husband, 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

P.  S. — Shall  go  to  Connecticut  to-morrow.  Can  not  write  again 
for  two  days. 

79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  January  15,  1855. 

My  deae  Theeesa  :  Yesterday  was  Sunday.  I  had  received  a 
message  from  Mr.  Thorpe  (Tom  Owen,  the  bee-hunter)  the  night 
before  to  call  over  to  Brooklyn  and  see  Mrs.  T.,  who  had  been  sick 
for  the  last  six  or  eight  weeks.  I  went  early,  and  after  I  fulfilled 
my  mission  I  stepped  across  the  street  to  hear  .  .  .  thunder.  His 
church  is  a  plain  brick  one,  with  a  gallery  extending  forward  cov- 
ering nearly  half  the  area  of  the  ground  floor,  and  giving  it  very 
much  the  appearance  of  a  theatre  with  its  parquette  below  and 
amphitheatre  above.  It  was  crowded,  and  he  was  playing  to  an 
appreciative  audience.  His  preaching  is  simply  acting.  I  am  sure 
it  is  not  prejudice  in  me  when  I  say  I  can  not  believe  that  he  pos- 
sesses the  first  ray  of  spiritual  religion.  He  seems  to  me  to  be  a 
purely  pulpit  demagogue,  and  I  judge  not  from  any  preconceived 
opinion  of  the  man,  but  from  yesterday's  observation  of  him. 

But,  enough  of  this,  the  sworn  but  harmless  enemy  of  his 
country.  I  intended  to  go  to  church  in  the  afternoon  (as  I  had 
gone  to  the  theatre  in  the  morning),  but  I  missed  it.  I  had  to 
call  and  see  Jos.  Greer,  and  Mr.  G-.  and  myself  got  into  an  old- 
fashioned  southern  talk  about  everybody  and  everything  that  we 
knew  in  common,  and  so  the  time  whirled  on  so  rapidly  that  as  I 
returned  home  the  people  were  returning  from  church.  But  Mr. 
B.,  Mr.  D.,  and  myself  all  went  last  night  down  to  Twelfth  Street, 
near  Sixth  Avenue,  to  hear  the  Rev.  Dr.  Murray,  of  Elizabethtown. 


APPENDIX  I.  403 

"Well,  the  hospital  movement.  Every  spare  moment  of  my  time 
is  put  in.  On  Saturday  morning  Mr.  Stuart  took  me  over  to  see 
Alderman  Tucker,  who  immediately  comprehended  the  whole 
scheme,  and  is  to  come  here  at  nine  o'clock  to-night  to  have  a  long 
war-talk  on  the  subject  He  says  he  will  introduce  me  to  all  the 
aldermen  and  councilmen  that  it  is  important  for  me  to  know,  so 
that  everything  shall  be  prearranged  and  well  understood  before  it 
comes  up  before  the  Council.  Alderman  Tucker  lives  right  oppo- 
site Mrs.  S.  in  Thirtieth  Street,  so  as  I  was  in  the  neighborhood  I 
called  to  see  her.  She  seems  to  feel  like  she  had  known  us  always, 
went  into  regular  ecstatics  at  seeing  me,  asked  a  thousand  anxious 
questions,  promised  to  introduce  me  to  the  wife  of  Alderman  Mott, 
and  insisted  that  I  should  go  and  see  Mrs.  Doremus,  which  I  have 
determined  to  do.  So  I  called  at  Professor  Barker's  to  see  Dr. 
Doremus  and  inquire  when  I  might  find  his  good  mother  at  home  ; 
and  by  this  accidental  call  I  have  made  a  friend  of  Mrs.  B.,  and  the 
doctor  has  promised  to  introduce  me  to  some  two  or  three  other 
ladies  who  will  co-operate.  My  whole  plans  have  received  an  im- 
petus and  assumed  an  importance  by  my  labors  since  you  left  that 
they  did  not  possess  before. 

The  children  are  all  well,  and  Knick  is  the  best  boy  in  the  city. 
Although  we  are  as  anxious  for  you  to  get  home  as  you  are  your- 
self, still  let  not  our  condition  hurry  or  divert  your  plans.  A  week 
longer  is  as  nothing  after  it  is  gone.  So  make  yourself  as  happy  as 
you  can  and  come  when  you  get  ready.  The  children  all  send  love 
to  mother  and  Harry. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  wife,  ever  your  devoted  husband, 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  January  %  1855. 
My  DEA.R  TnERESA:  Your  letters  of  the  16th  to  Mary,  and  of 
the  17th  to  me,  arrived  yesterday.  I  have  felt  distressed,  first,  be- 
cause Harry  has  been  sick,  and,  second,  because  it  necessarily  de- 
tains you  from  us  longer  than  we  expected  ;  but  I  have  been  more 
distressed  because  I  was  so  sure  that  you  would  get  off"  by  the  22d 
that  I  had  ceased  to  direct  letters  to  Montgomery,  and  the  last  two 
written  had  been  dispatched  to  Lancaster,  supposing  that  they 
would  meet  you  there.     Thus  you  have  been  so  long  without  let- 


40±  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

ters  that  I  fear  you  will  make  yourself  unnecessarily  anxious  about 
home.  "We  are  all  in  a  magnificent  state  of  preservation,  especially 
old  Knick,  who  fattens  daily,  and  is  said  to  be  not  only  good-  look- 
ing, but  the  best  child  in  the  city.  Fannie  and  Carrie  Sharpe,  Eliza 
and  Mary  are  all  well ;  but  Mary  has  had  a  cold,  for  which  I  have 
kept  her  at  home  a  whole  week.  She  is  now  over  it,  and  would 
have  gone  to  school  to-day  but  for  the  grandest  snowstorm  I  ever 
witnessed.  It  began  to  snow  early  this  morning,  and  continued  the 
whole  day  without  the  slightest  intermission.  We  had  no  snow 
last  winter  as  deep  as  this.  Notwithstanding  it  is  more  than  a  foot 
deep,  I  have  to-night  walked  nearly  three  miles  and  have  talked 
about  two  hours.  I  encountered  a  real  old  hardshell,  a  regular  old 
fogy,  to-night,  in  Mrs.  Mason  of  Second  Street,  who  has  been  for 
upward  of  thirty  years  one  of  the  managers  of  the  Marion  Street 
Lying-in-Asylum.  She  couldn't  co-operate  or  sympathize  with  any 
movement  that  was  not  based  upon  the  fact  of  the  "  patients  being 
able  to  produce  a  certificate  of  good  character."  You  ought  to 
have  seen  the  good  old  woman  with  her  narrow-minded  views  pitch 
into  the  "Woman's  Hospital"  movement  as  soon  as  she  welcomed 
me.  I  think  you  would  have  felt  a  little  provoked ;  but  if  you 
could  have  seen  the  change  in  her  tone  when  I  left  you  would  have 
been  amply  repaid,  for  we  parted  first-rate  friends.  She  invited  me 
to  come  and  see  her  again,  and  recommended  me  to  see  Mrs.  Cod- 
wise  and  some  other  ladies,  and  said,  as  she  now  fully  understood 
the  principle  of  action,  she  would  take  great  pleasure  in  recommend- 
ing to  all  her  friends  to  aid  in  getting  up  the  Woman's  Hospital. 

To-morrow  night  I  am  to  spend  at  Mrs.  Benedict's,  with  Mr. 
Gilbert  and  Mr.  Stuart,  when  we  are  to  draw  up  just  such  a 
charter  as  we  want  granted  by  the  Legislature.  The  next  night  I 
am  to  go  with  Mr.  Peck  to  see  General  Mather,  who  is  one  of  the 
Peter  Cooper  reformers,  and  is  an  influential  man  in  the  Board  of 
Councilmen.  To-morrow,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  own- 
er of  one  of  the  brown-stone  houses,  adjoining  the  one  in  which 
Mrs.  Seymour  lived  year  before  last  in  Fourth  Avenue,  is  to  call 
and  see  me  about  renting  said  house  for  the  temporary  Woman's 
Hospital.  Mrs.  Peck  went  all  through  the  house  yesterday,  and 
said  it  would  answer  first  rate,  and  I  shall  take  it  at  a  thousand 
dollars.  So  you  see  everything  goes  on  bravely.  I  am  getting  on 
with  the  doctors  most  magnificently.     Professor  Gilman  called  to 


APPENDIX  I.  405 

see  me  the  other  day,  and  invited  me  to  deliver  a  lecture  on  my 
operations  before  his  class.  I  accepted  the  polite  invitation,  and 
will  do  it  on  next  Saturday  week,  by  which  time,  perhaps,  you  may 
be  at  home.  You  can't  imagine  how  our  friend  Stuart  crows  over 
the  "  fighting  of  the  chickens,"  as  he  terms  it.  His  whole  energies 
are  now  bent  on  our  hospital  plans,  and  he  brings  me  daily  in  con- 
tact with  such  men  as  I  could  never  reach  but  for  and  through 
him. 

Thursday  Morning,  25th. 
This  is  a  glorious  morning.  It  is  bright  and  beautiful.  I  am 
now  at  the  midday  of  my  life.  The  sun  will  soon  turn  toward  the 
horizon,  and  I  must  work  hard  to  make  my  life  useful.  I  have  no 
time  to  waste.  If  I  should  be  blessed  with  health  I  can  not  calcu- 
late on  accomplishing  anything  after  sixty;  indeed,  in  fifteen  years 
1  shall  be  a  real  old  fogy.  "  Now  is  the  day  and  now  is  the  hour." 
What  I  do  must  be  done  soon.  I  don't  doubt  for  a  moment  the 
success  of  the  great  object  of  my  life.  I  only  fear  the  failure  of  my 
health ;  but  I  am  now  well,  and  I  pray  God  to  continue  his  bless- 
ing on  my  efforts.  Give  me  health,  and  even  without  money  I 
shall  accomplish  wonders  with  the  aids  now  at  my  command.  I 
shall  write  again  to-morrow,  although  you  may  not  get  the  letter. 
I  am  only  sorry  that  I  did  not  continue  to  write  to  you  at  Mont- 
gomery. Truly  your  devoted  husband, 

J.  Marion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

79  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  February  18,  1855. 

My  dear  Wife  :  Only  a  line  can  I  write,  because  your  letter  of 
the  10th  received  to-day  is  so  absolutely  imprecative  and  imperative 
on  late  hours  that  I  dare  not  disobey  your  gentle  mandates,  which 
you  very  well  know  I  have  always  heeded  as  a  good  husband 
should. 

Whatever  you  do  about  the  negroes  is  all  right.  I  don't  allow 
myself  a  moment's  thought,  further  than  the  anxiety  I  might  natu- 
rally feel  about  the  trouble  it  gives  you,  my  model  wife. 

I  was  glad  to  hear  that  my  poor,  puny  chick  had  at  last  ventured 
to  eat  one  dinner.  I  hope  she  has  continued  steadfast  in  the  good 
work. 


406  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

I  was  rejoiced  to  hear  yon  say  yon  would  run  over  to  Columbus 
: :  see  Aunt  Betsey.  Can't  you  write  for  Tan  to  come  and  see  you 
before  you  leave  ?  As  anxious  as  I  shall  be  for  your  return,  let  me 
implore  you  not  to  come  home  without  calling  to  see  sister  Mary, 
if  you  should  lose  a  fortnight's  time  by  it :  also  go  to  Columbia. 

We  are  getting  on  first-rate.  The  musical  little  "  Nightingale  " 
is  the  only  one  here  that  don't  miss  you.  "Willie  is  a  little  sick. 
It's  his  teeth  ;  nothing  more.  The  rest  of  us  well,  but,  my  dear 
Theresa,  I  am  in  the  greatest  state  of  alarm  about  our  dear  good 
friend.  Mrs.  Doremus.  I  have  been  wretchedly  unhappy  about  her 
all  day.  She  is  very  ill,  but,  as  sick  as  she  was,  she  allowed  me  to 
go  to  her  room  at  10  o'clock  last  evening  to  report  to  her  the  good 
success  of  my  mission  before  the  grave  and  reverend  seigniors  of  the 
State  Senate.  She  was  too  ill  to  see  me  to-day.  I  have  been  down 
twice  to  ask  after  her.  Mrs.  Codwise  saw  her  yesterday.  Ah!  two 
such  children  of  God  can  afford  to  talk  calmly  of  death  and  a  glori- 
ous eternity,  as  they  did.  Their  lamps  are  all  trimmed,  aud  so 
should  ours  be. 

How  happy  should  we  feel  in  the  friendship  of  two  such  good 
mothers. 

If  I  don't  have  time  to  write  to-morrow  (and  I  hardly  think  I 
shall),  Mary  will  write  to  let  you  know  about  Mrs.  Doremus. 

Its  late,  and  I  must  close.     Eem'ember   me  very  kindly  to  all 

aids.  "With  love  to  ma  and  the  children,  believe  me.  my  dear 
irife,  ever  ycur  devoted  husband,  J.  Maeiox  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Thesesa  Sims.  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

79  Mamsox  Ave>tt:,  Xew  York,  February  98^  1S55. 

My  deae  Thebesa  :  Mary  wrote  you  yesterday,  but  I  find  she 
did  not  send  her  letter,  which  annoys  me  considerably,  for,  between 
us.  you  ought  to  have  had  a  letter  at  least  on  alternate  days. 

We  are  all  well,  literally  so.  not  half-way  so.  Nightingale  and 
Willie  are  real  pictures,  while  Harry  is  a  rushing  reality.  "We  are 
getting  on  well  and,  as  anxious  as  we  may  be  to  have  you  at  home, 
let  me  entreat  you  not  to  return  till  you  have  made  a  visit  to  Aunt 
Betsey  and  sister  Mary.  This  I  insist  on,  and  I  wonld  like  it  very 
much  if  you  could  make  up  your  mind  to  run  over  to  Columbia  for 
a  day.  but  this  I  will  not  insist  upon. 

I  have  just  got  home  from  a  tour  of  observation  and  civil  engi- 


APPENDIX  I.  407 

neering.  Have  made  visits  to-night  to  Governor  Raymond,  Mr.  Ben- 
edict, Dr.  AVilkes,  Dr.  Francis,  Dr.  Mott  and  Dr.  Hosack,  and  with 
the  four  tirst  named  have  been  maturing  our  plans  of  operation.  It 
seems  that  Providence  has  given  power  over  the  very  men  that  are 
absolutely  indispensible  to  the  success  of  our  great  scheme. 

I  have  a  part  for  each  to  act,  and  no  one  of  the  mighty  combi- 
nation could  well  be  substituted  for  the  other.  Benedict  is  wiser 
than  all. 

I  can  hardly,  my  dear  wife,  realize  the  truth  of  the  great  drama 
that  is  now  being  enacted.  "Why  we  should  have  been  translated 
from  our  happy  Southern  home  and  warm-hearted  friends  and 
placed  here  under  the  circumstances  now  surrounding  us  is  truly 
enigmatical. 

Let  us  bow  with  humility  to  the  will  of  Him  who  in  His  wis- 
dom has  ordered  all  this,  and  as  you  used  to  say  "for  the  best," 
even  when  it  seemed  to  my  dull  vision  to  be  for  the  worst.  Do  you 
still  think  it  was  for  the  best?  Ah,  it  is  best  for  us  individually, 
only  if  it  humbles  us. 

It  is  late  and  I  must  stop.  Do  you  ever  see  aunty  ?  If  so,  re- 
member me  most  affectionately  to  her.     Also  to  other  friends. 

Love  to  ma  and  the  children,  and  believe  me  ever  your  devoted 
husband, 

J.  Maeion  Sims. 

Mrs.  Eliza  Theresa  Sims,  Montgomery,  Alabama. 

Letters  written  on  Ms  First  Trip  to  Europe. 
Queen's  Hotel,  Aberdeen,  Scotland,  Saturday,  August  10,  1861. 
Look  at  the  map,  my  dear  wife  and  children,  and  you  will  see 
that  I  am  above  the  57th  degree  of  latitude,  in  a  most  delightful 
country  and  fine  climate,  except  that  it  rains  too  much.  This  has 
been  one  of  the  most  profitable  days  I  have  spent  since  I  left  home, 
and  I  would  be  amply  repaid  for  my  trip,  were  I  now  to  return 
without  going  further  or  seeing  more.  You  know  how  I  have 
fretted  and  worried  about  not  getting  the  hospital  up  long  ago.  If 
I  had  succeeded  as  I  desired,  the  whole  structure  would  have  been 
wrong  in  principle,  and  ruinous  in  its  practical  workings.  Now  I 
shall  return  with  enlarged  views  of  hospital  hygiene  and  hospital 
structure,  and  I  can  not  but  congratulate  myself  on  what  I  supposed 


408  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

to  be  very  hard  luck.  Truly  a  good  Providence  overrules  all  our 
actions,  whether  we  will  or  not. 

When  I  left  Edinboro  yesterday,  I  asked  Professor  Syme  for  a 
letter  to  Professor  Pirrie  here,  and  he  said:  "  No."  For  a  moment 
I  was  startled,  but  he  finished  the  sentence  by  saying:  "It's  en- 
tirely unnecessary,  for  the  man  in  this  kingdom  who  don't  know 
you  on  presenting  your  card,  and  who  won't  be  glad  to  see  you,  is  not 
worth  your  seeing;"  and  sure  enough,  when  I  got  here,  the  splendid 
Dr.  Pirrie  gave  me  the  heartiest  sort  of  a  welcome,  and  said  imme- 
diately: "You'll  dine  with  me  at  five  to-day,"  and  of  course  I  said 
yes.  At  ten  o'clock  went  to  the  Royal  Infirmary  (which  means 
a  hospital  with  three  hundred  beds),  where  I  saw  Professor  Keith 
perform  a  half  dozen  surgical  operations,  as  I  have  seldom  ever  seen 
equaled  anywhere.  After  this  he  showed  me  the  hospital,  and 
expatiated  largely  on  its  unfitness  for  its  purposes,  pointing  out 
defects,  suggesting  remedies  for  them,  etc.,  etc.,  all  of  which  will 
be  exceedingly  valuable  in  constructing  our  hospital.  I  leave  here 
to-morrow  (Sunday)  for  Dundee,  where  there  is  a  very  fine  new 
hospital,  which  I  am  told  has  defects  that  I  must  avoid. 

Dr.  Simpson  asked  me  to  operate  on  a  case  or  two  when  I  return 
to  Edinboro.  I  shall  then  go  to  Glasgow,  and  return  to  my  precious 
Dublin  for  a  few  days,  where  I  have  to  perform  several  operations. 
I  forgot  to  tell  you  in  any  of  my  former  letters  that  Dr.  Denham, 
a  distinguished  Dublin  man,  took  me  to  see  a  lady  requiring  my 
opinion,  and  when  I  shook  hands  and  said  good-by  she  slyly  let  drop 
a  guinea  into  my  palm.  I  said,  "  Oh  no,  madam,  I  can't  take  your 
money.  I  do  this  for  my  friend,  the  doctor."  The  doctor  imme- 
diately said,  "  You  must  take  it."  I  still  declined.  The  lady  looked 
confused  and  surprised.  The  doctor  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  You 
must  take  it,  she  will  be  greatly  mortified  to  receive  your  valuable 
opinion  gratuitously."  So  I  took  it.  I  thought  it  very  funny,  and 
wished  it  was  the  habit  at  home  to  get  a  guinea  slipped  into  a  fel- 
low's hand  every  time  he  deserved  it. 

The  doctors  here  keep  no  books,  patients  pay  at  every  visit,  and 
always  pay  a  guinea  ($5).  I  saw  the  great  oculist  and  aurist,  Mr. 
Wilde,  haul  out  of  his  pocket,  the  day  before  I  left  Dublin,  a  great 
handful  of  one-pound  notes  which  he  had  received  during  the  day. 
All  the  doctors  I  have  met  as  yet  are  well  to  do,  live  in  the  very 
best  style,  and  many  of  them  are  very  rich  ;  but,  if  I  write  more  in 


APPENDIX  I.  409 

this  vein,  yon  may  fear  that  there  is  danger  of  my  setting  my  face 
toward  the  service  of  Mammon.  Not  wishing  to  distress  you  in  the 
least,  I  shall  change  the  subject. 

Sunday ',  August  11. 

I  fully  intended  to  leave  here  to-day  on  the  12.23  train,  the 
only  one  on  Sunday.  I  wrote  some  letters  to  Dublin  during  the 
morning  and  went  out  at  eleven  to  mail  them.  When  I  got  into  the 
street  (Union  Street),  which  is  the  Broadway  of  Aberdeen,  it  was 
crowded  for  nearly  a  mile  (its  whole  length)  with  well-dressed 
church-going  people.  After  depositing  my  letters  in  the  post-office, 
having  au  hour  to  spare,  I  concluded  to  follow  the  crowd  to  a  church 
I  had  visited  yesterday.  A  very  young  man  (just  twenty-five)  was 
occupying  the  pulpit.  I  surveyed  the  church  and  the  people,  and 
concluded  to  stay  twenty  minutes.  They  were  singing  when  I  en- 
tered ;  the  sexton  offered  me  a  seat,  which  I  refused,  preferring  to 
stand  in  the  aisle  just  at  the  entrance.  A  placard  hung  by  the  door 
which  I  would  like  to  see  in  all  churches,  because  it  assures  a  stran- 
ger a  polite  welcome,  viz. :  "  Strangers  will  please  apply  to  the  pew- 
openers,  who  will  furnish  seats  as  soon  as  the  service  begins."  On 
the  walls  and  pillars,  in  various  conspicuous  parts  of  the  church,  were 
hung  black-boards,  about  twelve  by  fourteen  or  fifteen  inches, 
marked  as  in  this  diagram,  so  that  the  congregation  could  see  the 
psalms  to  be  sung.  Of  course  there 
was  no  organ,  nor  instrumental  music 
of  any  kind,  and  the  choir,  instead  of 
being  placed  away  off  in  a  gallery, 
was  at  the  foot  of  the  pulpit,  a  very 
appropriate  location. 

They  were  singing  (as  I  said)  the 
xxxiv  Psalm  when  I  entered,  then 
came  the  long  prayer  and  reading 
from    the    Scriptures,    in    which    I 

found  myself  interested.  The  preacher  was  a  good  and  emphatic 
reader.  I  liked  him.  He  was  just  the  size  of  and  the  very 
picture  of  Uncle  Jo  Kyle ;  then  was  sung  the  xxxix  Psalm,  very 
and  excessively  dolorous.  I  looked  at  my  watch,  thought  I  must 
go.  Then  came  the  reading  of  the  3d  chapter  of  St.  James,  which 
was  the  text  dwelling  upon  the  evils  produced  by  the  tongue: 
18 


Psalm. 

Ver. 

T 

XXXIV. 

1. 

80 

XXXIX. 

1. 

77 

XIVI. 

1. 

29 

410  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

44  The  tongue,  no  man  can  tame."  The  eloquence  of  the  man 
chained  me  to  the  spot  where  I  stood.  I  looked  at  my  watch 
again,  said  to  myself,  "I'll  stay  ten  minutes  longer,  then  I  will  have 
twenty  minutes  to  run  to  the  hotel,  pay  bill,  and  be  off."  The  time 
rolled  on.  I  looked  at  my  watch,  indeed  held  it  in  my  hand,  the 
hands  moved  on,  then  it  lacked  eighteen  minutes  of  the  time  of 
starting,  then  fifteen  minutes,  and  then  I  said  why  should  I  hurry 
away  from  this  enchantment  when  there  is  no  need  of  it,  so  I  delib- 
erately resigned  myself  to  my  pleasant  fate,  and  heard  the  most 
eloquent  sermon  I  have  listened  to  for  years.  I  do  not  regret  it. 
Looking  at  my  watch  I  saw  that  the  sermon  was  about  thirty-three 
minutes  long.  I  could  have  listened  to  the  little  fellow  three  or  four 
times  as  long  with  comfort  and  profit.  I  shall  go  at  two  o'clock  to 
hear  the  same  man  again. 

Sunday,  10  p.  m. 

This  has  been  the  most  Sahbathical  Sunday  I  have  spent  for 
many  months.  True  to  the  hour  I  was  at  church  again,  and  heard 
a  very  fine  sermon,  twenty-six  minutes  long,  from  Psalm  xvii,  1-ith 
verse.  After  church  returned  to  the  hotel,  where  we  had  a  tdble- 
d'hote  dinner,  and,  as  the  servant  just  this  moment  brings  in  my 
bill,  preparatory  to  my  leaving  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he 
tells  me  a  very  funny  thing.  Six  of  us  sat  down  to  dinner.  It  ap- 
pears that  the  gentleman  at  the  head  is  the  president  and  master  of 
ceremonies,  the  one  at  the  other  end  is  vice-president.  As  soon  as  we 
sat  down  (I  on  the  president's  right)  he  says,  "  Stranger,  will  you  join 
us  in  a  glass  of  wine  ?  "  "  Certainly,  with  pleasure,"  said  I.  Well,  we 
ate  away,  and  drank  wine,  and  I,  feeling  quite  unwilling  to  be  behind 
my  liberal  neighbors,  ordered  a  large  bottle  of  champagne.  They 
looked  a  little  surprised,  but  drank  my  wine.  "Well,  I  was  very  well 
satisfied.  We  had  a  splendid  dinner,  a  good  time,  they  pitched  into 
Yankeedom  generally,  and  I  let  them.  Dinner  over,  the  president 
said,  "  Waiter,  the  bill."  It  was  brought,  looked  over,  and  passed 
round  the  table  for  each  man's  inspection.  It  amounted  to  the  round 
sum  of  Ts.  6d.  apiece,  or  $1.87£.  When  I  got  the  bill  I  insisted 
on  paying  for  my  own  bottle  of  wine,  but  they  said  "No."  So  the 
whole  bill  was  equally  divided.  I  didn't  like  much  the  idea  of 
treating  them  at  their  own  expense,  and  didn't  know  till  just  this 
moment  that  there  was  a  joke  anywhere.     The  waiter  says :  "  Well, 


APPENDIX  I.  411 

sir,  they  are  having  a  hearty  laugh  down  in  the  coffee-room  at  the 
way  they  were  sold  to-day."  "Ah!"  said  I,  "how  is  that?" 
"  Why,  sir,  they  took  you  to  be  green,  and  their  game  was  to  have 
a  good  wine  bill,  and  make  you  bear  your  proportion  of  the  expense, 
but  when  they  saw  that  you  didn't  care,  and  ordered  more  expensive 
wine  than  any  of  them  would,  and  then  wanted  to  pay  for  it  your- 
self, they  thought  it  the  best  joke  of  the  season  and  acknowledged 
themselves  beat  at  their  own  game."  I  was  very  innocent  in  all  of 
it.  They  told  the  waiter  I  was  a  regular  take-in,  for  they  thought 
I  didn't  know  anything  till  they  got  me  to  talking — but  enough. 
After  dinner  I  called  on  Dr.  Pirrie.  He  was  out,  but  I  had  an 
hour's  talk  with  Mrs.  Pirrie.  She  is  greatly  interested  in  our  Fulton 
Street  prayer-meeting.  It  seems  to  me  there  is  a  book  giving  an  ac- 
count of  this  prayer-meeting  from  its  beginning.  If  there  is  I  was 
going  to  say  send  it,  but  let  it  alone  till  I  get  home  again. 

Your  devoted  husband,  J.  M.  S. 

Edinboro,  Tuesday,  August  11. 

I  left  Aberdeen  early  yesterday  morning,  arriving  at  Dundee 
at  11.  Yisited  the  infirmary  (all  hospitals  here  in  Scotland  are 
called  "Eoyal  Infirmaries  "),  saw  several  medical  gentlemen,  who 
were  glad  to  meet  me.  Left  at  5.40  p.  m.  and  got  here  at  10.  Soon 
after  which  young  Dr.  Simpson  called,  and  we  went  to  see  an  old 
lady  with  vesico-vaginal  fistula  upon  whom  the  doctor  had  operated 
unsuccessfully  two  or  three  times.  She  weighs  about  three  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,  and  is  not  at  all  a  good  case  to  operate  upon  and 
leave  in  the  hands  of  others  for  subsequent  management. 

I  telegraphed  Tom  to  come  up  here  to-day,  and  expect  him  this 
evening.  The  railroad  ride  from  Aberdeen  tired  me  a  good  deal, 
but  I  am  getting  on  well.  Eeceived  your  first  letter,  which  cured 
me  of  my  little  feeling  of  home-sickness.  If  I  can  only  be  assured 
that  you  won't  starve  while  I  am  away  I'll  take  my  time,  and  will 
not  let  a  week  or  ten  days  stand  in  the  way  of  investigations.  If 
the  doctors  treat  me  half  as  well  in  London  as  elsewhere,  I  shall 
remain  there  at  least  a  fortnight,  which  will  be  a  week  longer  than 
I  expected.  As  yet  I  have  learned  nothing  from  any  man— I  am 
sorry  to  say  it — but  I  hope  to  get  some  ideas  from  Simpson.  If  I 
don't  I  shall  be  disappointed  in  my  visit  here. 

Give  my  love  to  all  the  children.    Kindest  remembrance  to  the 


412  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

servants,  and  to  all  friends.  I  don't  particularize,  but  mean  all. 
Don't  worry  about  me.  I  am  doing  well,  not  fretting  about  any- 
thing at  all. 

Your  devoted  husband,  J.  Marion  Sims. 

Paris,  Thursday,  November  21, 1861. 
My  deae  Wife  :  I  wrote  you  not  long  ago  that  the  18th  of  Octo- 
ber was  one  of  the  proudest  days  of  my  life.  I  have  now  to  tell 
you  a  different  story,  for  Tuesday,  the  19th  of  November,  was  cer- 
tainly one  of  the  most  fearfully  anxious.  I  operated  on  the  Countess 
de  F.  Tom  was  not  present.  He  had  gone  to  Liverpool.  Nelaton, 
the  great  Paris  surgeon,  Campbell,  the  great  obstetrician,  Beclard, 
the  accomplished  Franco- American  physician,  and  Johnston,  the 
splendid  fellow  and  good  friend  I  have  so  often  mentioned  before, 
and  Tom's  friend,  Mr.  Herbert,  a  young  Englishman,  were  present  and 
assisting.  Upon  Dr.  Campbell  was  imposed  the  responsibility  of  the 
chloroforming.  The  operation  was  begun  at  10  o'clock,  with  the 
expectation  of  its  lasting  about  an  hour.  Everything  went  on  well, 
and  in  fifty  minutes  it  was  nearly  finished.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  secure  the  silver  sutures.  Just  then  I  noticed  a  very 
livid  appearance  of  the  tissues,  and  called  Dr.  Johnston's  attention  to 
it.  I  asked  if  all  was  right,  was  answered  "  Yes,  go  on."  But 
almost  immediately  Dr.  Campbell  said  "  Stop  a  moment.  Let  her 
head  hang  down."  He  ordered  Nelaton  to  support  the  head,  and 
Johnston  to  raise  her  feet  perpendicularly  in  the  air,  while  he 
•supported  the  body  and  shoulders,  and  Beclard  attended  to  forcing 
the  respiration  by  pressing  the  thorax  and  abdominal  walls.  Young 
Herbert  was  sent  for  a  spoon,  with  the  handle  of  which  her  locked 
jaws  were  forced  asunder,  and  JSTelaton  called  for  forceps  to  pull  the 
tongue  from  the  top  of  the  wind-pipe.  A  tenaculum  was  handed, 
the  tongue  hooked  up  and  held  firmly.  And  I,  imagine  poor  me, 
standing  like  a  very  statue  of  sadness  and  sorrow,  calling  out 
mechanically  every  now  and  then,  "  My  dear  Dr.  Campbell,  is  there 
any  hope  of  saving  her?  "  She  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
dead.  They  held  her  in  this  inverted  position  for  twenty  minutes, 
trying  to  force  the  respiratory  function.  It  appeared  to  me  to  be 
useless.  At  last  she  breathed,  and  breathed  again.  It  was  very 
poor  breathing,  but  better  than  none  at  all.  The  doctor  said : 
"  Don't  be  alarmed,  she  will  recover."    After  a  while  they  laid  her 


APPENDIX  I.  413 

on  the  table  in  the  recumbent  posture.  But  soon,  almost  immedi- 
ately, the  breathing  ceased  again,  and  the  pulse  stopped  too,  as  it 
had  done  before.  Again  they  quickly  inverted  the  body,  and  again 
long,  painful,  protracted  and  anxious  efforts  for  resuscitation  were 
repeated  as  before — but  now  she  seemed  more  dead  than  before, 
aud  1"  thought  spontaneous  respiration  would  never  again  return ; 
but,  thanks  to  the  brave  men  who  had  her  in  charge,  for  they  never 
ceased  their  efforts,  and  after  a  seeming  very  long  time,  they  were 
repaid  by  feeble  signs  of  returning  life.  Kespiration  had  some 
regularity,  the  pulse  became  countable,  though  very  weak  and  some- 
times suspended.  My  heart  began  to  pour  forth  involuntary  thanks 
to  God  for  her  recovery.  They  laid  her  upon  the  table  again,  say- 
ing, "  It  will  all  be  right  now."  But  in  a  few  seconds  the  respira- 
tion ceased  a  third  time,  her  pulse  was  gone,  and  she  looked  the 
perfect  picture  of  death.  Then  I  gave  up  all  as  lost.  But  Camp- 
bell and  Nelaton,  B6clard  and  Johnston,  by  a  consentaneous  effort, 
quickly  inverted  the  body  again,  thus  throwing  all  the  blood  it  con- 
tained to  the  brain,  and  again  began  their  heroic  efforts  at  artificial 
respiration.  It  seemed  to  me  she  would  never  breathe  again,  but  at 
last  there  was  a  spontaneous  spasmodic  inspiration,  and  after  a  while 
another,  and  by-and-by  there  was  a  third.  They  were  very  "  far 
between."  I  thought  there  would  never  be  a  fourth  one,  but  there 
was,  and  then  there  was  a  long  yawn  or  gaping.  Dr.  Beclard  said : 
"  Her  pulse  comes  again,  but  it  is  very  feeble."  Nelaton  ejaculated  : 
"  The  color  of  the  tongue  and  lips  is  getting  more  natural  in  appear- 
ance." Campbell  said:  "The  vomiting  is  favorable,  and  see,  she 
moves  her  hands,  she  is  pushing  against  me."  But  I  was  by  no 
means  sure  that  these  symptoms  were  not  merely  signs  of  the  last 
death  struggle.  She  was  still  in  the  inverted  position,  with  the  jaws 
pried  open  and  the  tongue  held  out  with  the  tenaculum.  Presently 
Johnston  said  :  "  See  here,  doctor,  she  is  safe  now,  see  how  she 
kicks."  Feeling  somewhat  assured,  I  said :  "  Let  her  kick.  I  want 
her  '  to  be  alive  and  kicking.'  "  Soon  they  all  said  :  "  Oh,  she  is  safe 
now."  I  replied  :  "  For  God's  sake  keep  her  safe  then.  Don't  put 
her  upon  the  table  again  till  she  is  conscious."  They  held  her  then  till 
she  kicked  in  good  earnest.  I  have  heard  of  ladies  "  kicking,"  and 
once  as  you  know,  my  dear  wife,  I  had  a  little  experience  of  it,  but 
the  most  interesting  feat  in  that  way  that  I  have  ever  known  was  this 
by  my  dear  dying-dead,  but  now  living,  little  Countess  de  F.     The 


414:  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

operation  was  finished.  It  was  one  of  the  most  difficult  I  ever  exe- 
cuted, and  certainly  the  most  difficult,  take  it  all  in  all,  that  I  ever 
performed  on  any  one  in  the  upper  walks  of  life.  Of  course,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  it  was  completed  without  further  recourse  to  the 
use  of  chloroform.  Dr.  Emmet  always  gives  me  great  credit  for 
foresight,  skill,  etc.,  but  he  says,  added  to  this  I  am  the  luckiest  man 
in  the  world.  He  will  see  that  my  luck  did  not  desert  me  in  this 
case,  but  it  was  luck  based  on  the  intelligence,  kindness,  coolness 
courage,  judgment  and  perseverance  of  four  of  the  bravest  men  I 
ever  saw.  It  seems  to  me  now  that  she  could  hardly  have  been  saved 
in  any  other  way,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  get  together  four  other 
men  as  competent  to  the  task.  Campbell  and  N&aton  were  the 
responsible  men,  but  if  she  had  died  the  whole  blame  would  have 
fallen  upon  your  poor  husband.  To  them  is  due  the  credit  of  saving 
her,  and  to  them  let  the  credit  be  given.  But  let  us  not  forget  to 
thank  God  for  her  restoration,  and  to  bless  Him  for  this  great  de- 
liverance. 

I  have  given  you  the  facts.  I  can  not  and  will  not  try  to  tell  you 
the  heart-rending  agony  through  which  I  passed  during  the  nearly 
two  hours  of  anxious,  persevering  effort  for  her  resuscitation.  But 
the  best  part  of  the  story  is  to  be  told.  Although  it  has  been  but 
forty-eight  hours  since  the  operation,  I  am  able  to  pronounce  the 
verdict  of  a  perfect  cure. 

To-day  I  told  her  that  hereafter,  whenever  I  am  asked  how 
many  children  I  have,  I  will  not  make  my  usual  stereotyped  answer 
"Nine,"  but  will  say  "  Ten,"  for  she  seems  almost  like  one  of  ours, 
and  I  tell  her  she  shall  be  next  to  my  own  dear  little  Florrie.  If 
you  could  only  see  her,  you  could  not  help  loving  her.  She  is  now 
bright  and  cheerful,  and  hopeful  and  happy,  thankful  and  joyous. 
As  she  lies  in  bed  her  happiness  i3  manifest  to  all.  She  warbles  as 
innocently  as  a  little  bird.  She  sings  out  and  reminds  me  so  much 
of  our  own  Mary.  Tom  thinks  her  very  much  like  Mary.  And 
now,  my  dear  wife,  having  unburdened  my  heart  to  you,  let  us  not 
cease  to  thank  our  Heavenly  Father  that  He  blessed  the  means  for 
her  recovery,  and  saved  your  husband  from  murdering  her  or  being 
accessory  to  her  death.  Tell  Emmet  I  am  done  with  chloroform, 
will  never  again  operate  on  any  patient  under  its  influence,  and  be- 
lieve it  ought  to  be  banished  from  ordinary  or  general  use.  It  is 
too  dangerous.    No  one  was  to  blame  yesterday.   It  was  given  with 


APPENDIX  I.  415 

caution  and  care,  but  the  blood  evidently  became  chemically  changed 
by  it  and  unfit  for  the  circulation.  It  was  one  of  those  unfortunate 
occurrences  that  may  happen  at  any  time,  and  have  happened  hun- 
dreds of  times,  with  chloroform,  but  never  to  my  knowledge  witli 
ether.  With  these  facts,  were  I  again  to  use  this  dangerous  agent, 
and  it  to  produce  a  fatal  result,  I  could  not  hold  myself  guiltless 
morally,  nor  should  I  be  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  My  hands  are  then, 
henceforth,  washed  of  chloroform  and  devoted  to  ether. 

I  shall  be  here  eight  or  ten  days  longer,  and  then  go  to  London, 
where  I  expect  a  good  time  for  ten  or  twelve  days  at  least.  I  am 
dreadfully  disappointed  at  not  hearing  from  home  by  the  last  steamer. 
I  ought  to  have  received  a  letter  to-day.  Certainly  looked  for  my 
passport ;  I  have  a  bet  of  a  dozen  cigars  that  I  shall  -get  a  passport. 
A  good  many  say  I  won't  get  it,  but  I  am  sure  of  it ;  for  if  they  re- 
fuse such  a  thing  to  two  such  men  as  Eaymond  and  Benedict  they 
must  all  be  insane,  and  the  sooner  we  prove  it  the  better  for  the 
country.  But  I  shall  not  abuse  anybody  yet.  I  will  wait  for 
another  steamer. 

Friday,  a.  m. 

I  have  been  running  all  day  after  hospital  doctors  and  instrument 
makers,  and  so  finish  this  in  a  hurry.  I  am  well,  first-rate,  but  I 
have  fallen  off  some  in  spite  of  Jenny  Emmet's  views  to  the  con- 
trary. I  shall  try  and  send  my  photograph  next  week.  I  need  the 
lager-beer,  don't  like  wine  any  better,  but  am  obliged  to  take  it 
with  the  water. 

Kiss  my  little  ones  and  the  larger  ones,  and  remember  me  very 
kindly  to  my  friends,  who  are  still  friends  notwithstanding  my  po- 
litical faith,  which  I  could  not  change  under  any  circumstances,  for 
I  can  not  help  being  honest. 

God  bless  you,  my  dear  wife.  You'll  hear  from  me  again  before 
I  go  to  London.    Always  your  devoted  husband, 

J.  Makion  Sims. 

Paris,  Friday,  November  29,  1861. 
My  dear  "Wife  :  I  received  no  letter  last  week,  but  got  yours  of 
the  9th  November  yesterday,  the  contents  of  which  were  truly  wel- 
come.    I  was  delighted  to  hear  that  you  were  all  well  and  enjoying 
yourselves  fairly.     Am  glad  to  know  that  Professor  Bedford  was 


416  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIU 

kind  to  Gran ville,  and  prond  to  hear  that  my  "boy  is  at  work  in  ear- 
nest, pleased  to  hear  that  Father  Connelly  was  on  a  bust,  and  that 
my  friend  Dr.  Miliano  called.  It  was  be,  because  I  went  with  him 
on  the  3d  of  October  to  the  £cole  de  Medicine,  and  there  pointed  out 
a  statue  that  looked  like  TVillie.  I  hope  he  went  again  t:  c: 
But  with  all  these  pleasant  little  things  I  will  not  pretend  to  hide 
my  disappointment  at  not  receiving  by  the  mail  my  passport,  for  I 
fully  expected  it.  and  can't  understand  why  it  was  not  forwarded  on 
the  application  of  Mr.  Eaymond  and  Mr.  Benedict,  but  I  shall  not 
fret  the  least  bit  about  it,  for  good  will  come  of  all  this.  How.  I  do 
not  exactly  see,  but  we  will  know  by-and-by. 

I  am  happy  to  say  my  little  patient  the  countess  is  beautifully 
and  perfectly  cured,  never  had  a  single  unpleasant  symptom  after 
her  recovery  from  the  chloroform.  I  leave  here  on  Sunday  or 
Monday  for  London,  where  I  hope  to  have  a  good  time  for  ten  or 
twelve  days.  I  am  pressed  on  all  sides  to  stay  here,  but  I  :  : 
London,  and  next  week  I  hope  to  hear  from  you.  I  am  anxious  to 
go  home,  but  a  great  many  sensible  people  say  I  am  foolish.  Even 
Mrs.  Murray  S.,  who  is  .  -  ir  York  woman,  says  I  ought  not  to 

go  home  till  the  war  is  over,  but  everything  will  depend  on 
letter.  I  have  such  unbounded  confidence  in  your  judgment,  that 
whatever  you  say  I  must  do  will  be  done.  "Were  it  possible  I 
should  spend  a  hundred  dollars  in  telegraphing  to  you,  and  consider 
it  a  good  investment,  bnt  that  is  out  of  the  question.  I  shall  not 
speculate  further,  but  wait  the  arrival  of  your  letter.  The  Countess 
de  G.  wants  me  to  stop  in  Par:?.  Yesterday  she  received  nine  1 1 
before  breakfast  from  her  relations,  congratulating  her,  and  rejoicing 
with  her  over  the  restoration  of  her  daughter.  She  aaya  if  I  will 
only  stay,  all  her  friends  will  be  my  friends,  and  she  knows  that  I 
will  get  a  plenty  to  do,  and  she  says  that  -1. .  is  -are  I  will  not  de- 
sire to  go  home  again  if  you  were  all  over  here,  but  I  can't  imagine 
myself  becoming  a  permanent ;i  zoulez-Tou&.^  I  am  quite  willing  to  go 
it  far  a  year,  just  for  the  sake  of  the  children.  It  will  be  capital  in- 
i  for  them,  and  the  publication  of  my  works  here  and  in  Eng- 
land would  be  worth  the  time,  which  would  not  be  lost — but  here  I 
am  again  speculating  before  the  arrival  of  your  doubtful  letter. 

I  have  been  at  St.  Germain  now  since  the  10th.  Altogether,  here 
and  at  the  Chateau  de  Granery,  I  have  been  the  guest  of  the  count- 
ess four  weeks,  and  it  is  the  pleasantest  time  I  have  had  since  I  left 


APPENDIX  I.  417 

my  happy  home.  I  am  quite  domesticated  and  hate  to  leave. 
Whenever  a  countess  or  other  dignitary  calls,  Madame  la  Comtesse 
says,  "  Come,  doctor,  you  must  put  on  the  dignity  now."  Of  course, 
I  get  immediately  as  stiff  as  possible,  and  look  as  grave  as  a  Presby- 
terian preacher  just  about  to  say,  "  Let  us  pray."  All  of  which 
tickles  my  little  patient  very  much,  but  she  soons  calls  out,  "Now, 
doctor,  that's  too  tiresome,  please  be  yourself  again."  Last  evening 
the  abbe,  I  mean  the  priest,  came  in,  and  madame  sent  word  in  to 
Leontine  that  she  would  bring  him  into  her  room,  and  she  expected 
her  and  the  doctor  to  be  very  dignified.  So  I  put  myself  in  atti- 
tude, the  old  fellow  was  ushered  in,  introduced,  and  we  bent  our 
bodies  at  each  other,  but  he  staid  too  long  for  me,  as  we  had 
to  dine  together,  and  then  sit  for  an  hour  afterward.  *  He  came  to 
inquire  for  the  success  of  the  operation,  and  appointed  a  day  next 
week  for  a  great  mass  in  the  little  chapel  for  her  happy  recovery. 
They  are  all  very  good  Catholics  and  go  to  church  daily.  Yesterday 
morning  I  removed  the  last  of  the  sutures  from  my  patient.  "Was 
on  the  eve  of  going  to  the  city,  had  been  in  my  room  some  fifteen 
or  twenty  minutes  looking  over  some  instruments,  etc.,  and  just  as 
I  was  about  going  out  I  saw  a  box  setting  on  a  little  table  by  the 
door  of  exit  (I  had  entered  by  a  different  one).  On  the  box  was  a 
bit  of  paper  with  the  words  :  "  From  the.  most  grateful  of  mothers 
to  the  kindest  of  doctors."  I  had  some  curiosity  to  look  into  it. 
It  is  the  most  beautiful  dressing-case  I  ever  saw.  I  haven't  time  to 
describe  it,  but  you'll  see  it.  It  is  too  fine  for  use,  and  I  expect  it 
to  descend  down  in  the  family.  Therefore  it  is  a  thing  to  will. 
Besides  the  many  beautiful  and.useful  things  in  it,  there  was  a  large 
roll  of  yellow  paper  which  I  took  to  the  city.  Mr.  Monroe  told  me 
that  there  were  several  thousand  francs'  worth,  and  as  an  earnest 
I  send  you  a  portion  of  it  in  plain  English.  The  others  were  of 
course  in  French. 

The  foregoing  was  written  at  St.  Germain,  and  I  expected  to 
finish  it  in  Paris.  But  the  day  is  so  dark  that  I  can  scarcely  see  how 
to  get  on  without  gas-light.     It  is  a  London  day. 

There  is  great  excitement  among  Americans  here  on  the  sub- 
ject ot  the  SHdell  and  Mason  arrest.  If  there  is  to  be  war  between 
Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  I  must  make  a  straight  shoot 
for  home,  Fort  Lafayette  or  no  Fort  Lafayette. 

By  the  time  this  reaches  you  I  hope  all  will  be  right  with  Mary. 


±15  rHE    STORY   OF  MY  LITE. 

Kiss  her  and  all  the  dear  children  for  me.     How  I  would  like  to  be 
bb  you.     Kind  remenibran :  e  to  Emmet  and  all  other  Mends. 
Id  haste.    Your  devoted  husband, 

J.  Ma  bios"  Snis. 

The  day  w  e  :  ^ebrate.  Americans  love  it  as  their  natal  day,  and 
the  free  world  admires  it  as  the  birthday  of  a  nation  of  freemen. 

Response  to  Toast  on  hoard  Steamer  Atlantic. 

Ox  Board  Steamer  Atlaxtic,  July  J.  1871.  > 
Bvundfor  Europe. 

\i:.  ~_  hate .:;_:".  Ladies  a2td  Gestlemes  :  I  fear  your  committee 
[ein  lelegating  ::>  rue  the  honor  of  speaking  to 
this  patriotic  sentiment.  Not  that  I  yield  to  any  of  yon  in  my  love 
of  country,  but  that,  like  my  brothers  of  the  army  and  nary,  I 
and  my  brethren  of  the  medical  profession  are  little  given  to  ape : :  h- 
making. 

This  day  reminds  me  that  nations  are  but  masses  of  individuals, 
that  individuals,  as  a  rule,  know  their  birth-day,  anticipate  its  anni- 
versary with  pleasure,  and  celebrate  it  with  joy  and  gratitude.  This 
privilege,  so  precious  to  us  individually,  is  not  often  vouchsafed  to 
nations.  Even  our  beloved  motherland.  Great  Britain,  the  strong- 
hold of  civil  liberty,  can  not  tell  the  fhne  :.:  which  she  reached  its 
full  fruition.  "SVith  her  it  was  gradual,  the  growth  of  generations, 
yea,  of  centuries.  But  with  us  it  is  otherwise,  for  we  know  not 
only  the  year,  the  month,  the  day.  but  the  very  hour  in  which  we 
sprang  from  a  tottering  state  of  de  :i  leu  :e  and  thraldom  into  one  of 
independence  and  liberty. 

John  Adams  said  at  the  time,  that  this  day  would  ever  be. hal- 
lowed by  Americans,  and  that  they  would  celebrate  its  annual  re- 
turn with  speeches,  and  bonfires,  and  all  manner  of  rejoicings.  And 
ac  if  has  been,  and  so  it  shall  be,  as  long  as  our  country  claims  to  be 
the  land  of  liberty.  It  was  said  this  morning,  by  my  friend  Mr. 
Train,  the  eloquent  orator  of  the  day,  that  the  fourth  of  July  was 
annulled  by  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter.  Sir,  the  thunders 
of  Fort  Sumter  were  but  the  premonitory  throes  of  a  labor  that 
ended  in  the  new  birth  of  one  of  the  mightiest  nations  of  the  earth, 
for  we  can  now  truly  say  tl  if  —  e  have  been  born  again.  If  you 
applaud  so  vociferously  this  sentiment  from  a  citizen  of  Xew  York, 


APPENDIX  I.  419 

let  me  tell  you  that  it  is  from  the  heart  of  a  red  southerner,  for  I 
was  born  in  South  Carolina,  was  wholly  educated  there,  and  lived 
there  till  I  was  a  full-grown  man ;  that  I  was  contemporary  with 
Davis,  and  Stevens,  and  Toombs ;  that  my  political  teachers  were 
Thomas  Cooper  and  Turnbull,  Mr.  Duffie  and  the  immortal  Calhoun; 
that  I  was  for  many  years  an  intimate  personal  as  well  as  political 
friend  of  Yancey  ;  that  in  later  years  I  was  in  the  kindest  and  most 
sympathetic  relations  writh  Mason  and  Slidell ;  and  that  I  sympathized 
heart  and  soul  with  the  South  in  what  you  miscall  a  rebellion. 

With  this  record,  if  I  can  hail  and  celebrate  this  day,  as  every 
American  should,  who  here  shall  dare  repudiate  it  ?  Rebellion,  did 
I  just  now  say  ?  Why,  sir,  this  term  as  applied  to  our  late  struggle 
is  false.  Our  civil  war  was  a  real  war  between  what  had  been  sov- 
ereign and  independent  States ;  a  war  of  principles  and  a  war 
between  political  equals.  From  the  very  foundation  of  our  Govern- 
ment, from  the  days  of  Jefferson,  and  Madison,  and  Hamilton,  and 
Jay,  we  had  incorporated  into  our  Constitution  two  great  antago- 
nistic principles  that  have  been  continually  threatening  our  exist- 
ence as  a  nation.  These  principles  have  been  variously  interpreted 
by  parties — on  the  one  side  representing  the  rights  of  the  States, 
and  jealous  of  the  powers  delegated  by  these  to  the  Federal  Gov- 
ernment, and  on  the  other  by  a  party  advocating  a  strong  central 
Government,  and  ever  ready  to  encroach  upon  the  rights  reserved 
to  the  States.  These  principles,  thus  underlying  all  parties,  by  what- 
ever name  called,  have  been  at  unceasing  war  ever  since  the  adop- 
tion of  our  Constitution.  "We  fought  them  out  on  the  tariff ;  we 
fought  them  out  on  the  bank  question  ;  we  fought  them  out  on  in- 
ternal improvements ;  we  fought  them  out  on  the  territorial  ques- 
tions ;  and  on  a  variety  of  side  issues. 

And  in  our  great  civil  war  these  questions  of  the  rights  of  States, 
and  of  the  power  and  authority  of  the  central  Government,  were 
the  real  questions  of  the  day,  all  others  being  incidental  and  sub- 
sidiary. While  they  wrere  general  and  theoretical  all  was  well. 
But  as  soon  as  they  became  sectional  and  practical  all  was  lost.  The 
Southern  States,  standing  upon  their  reserved  rights,  seceded  and 
formed  a  new  federation,  and  thus  the  States  under  the  new  and  the 
old  federations  fought  out  in  the  field  the  old  principles  so  often 
contended  for  in  the  legislative  halls,  and  we  of  the  South  were 
beaten  here  as  we  had  always  been  before.     And,  strange  as  it  may 


420  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

seem,  in  this  great  struggle  for  national  existence,  the  country  did 
not  produce  a  single  man,  North  or  South,  who  rose  to  the  dignity 
of  true  statesmanship.  Not  one  man  who  grasped  the  whole  sub- 
ject in  all  its  bearings  and  issues.  Why,  sir,  every  movement  at 
the  North  was  one  of  temporary  expediency,  every  step  at  the  South 
one  of  utter  desperation.  North  and  South  were  alike  blind  and 
mad.  Each  equally  sowed  the  wind,  and  each  alike  reaped  the 
whirlwind.  But  God  Almighty  rode  in  the  tempest  and  directed 
the  storm,  and  its  result  was  according  to  His  will.  The  questions 
at  issue  were  too  mighty  for  the  puny  intellect,  but  He  in  His  wis- 
dom decided  and  overruled  all,  and  they  were  settled  in  a  way  not 
foreseen  by  any.  And  now,  sir,  under  these  circumstances,  what  is 
our  duty  to  ourselves  and  to  our  country  ?  We  now  have  a  Gov- 
ernment that  is  no  longer  a  rope  of  sand,  one  that  is  felt  to  be  a 
real  power,  not  only  at  home,  but  a  leading  power  among  the  na- 
tions of  the  earth.  I  am  proud  of  my  country  abroad,  but  ashamed 
of  it  at  home.  The  humiliation  of  the  South  is  inexcusable.  Its 
ruin  is  unjustifiable.  But,  notwithstanding  all  this,  when  I  calmly 
survey  the  past,  when  I  closely  inspect  the  present,  and  when  I 
look  into  the  depths  of  the  future,  I  must  in  all  sincerity  say  that  I 
now  think  the  worst  thing  that  could  have  happened  for  the  coun- 
try at  large  would  have  been  the  success  of  the  cause  to  which  my 
heart  and  soul  were  honestly  and  earnestly  given,  and  conversely, 
that  the  best  thing  that  could  have  happened  under  the  circum- 
stances for  the  cause  of  civil  liberty,  not  only  in  our  own  country, 
but  throughout  the  civilized  world,  was  the  success  of  the  principles 
based  upon  a  strong  central  Government. 

Sir,  we  of  the  South  are  a  congenial  people.  Have  you  of  the 
North  been  magnanimous  or  generous  to  a  fallen  foe?  to  a  prostrate 
brother  ?  No,  sir,  you  have  ruled  us  with  a  tyrant  power.  You 
have  been  merciless  and  vindictive.  You  have  forced  upon  us  con- 
ditions humiliating  to  our  pride  and  subversive  of  our  rights.  You 
have  confiscated  our  property  and  disfranchised  our  best  citizens. 
You  have  robbed  us  of  civil  liberty,  and  degraded  us  politically  be- 
low the  level  of  the  meanest  slave  that  ever  wore  a  shackle.  But,  if 
I  reproach  you  with  injustice,  and  injury,  and  wrong-doing,  don't 
for  a  moment  suppose  that  I  justify  the  South  in  the  course  she  has 
pursued  since  the  war.  In  her  it  is  folly  to  talk  of  the  lost  cause. 
It  is  puerile  to  sulk  and  to  play  the  part  of  abstention.    Let  her  citi- 


APPENDIX  I.  421 

zens  now  show  to  the  world  that  they  are  men,  that  they  can  under- 
stand the  great  problems  now  before  them,  that  they  can  rise  and 
prove  themselves  equal  to  the  emergencies  of  the  times.  Let  them, 
like  sensible,  practical,  honest  men,  accept  the  issues  of  the  war,  the 
fifteenth  amendment  and  all.  Then  we  shall  have  universal  amnesty, 
and  equal  rights  under  the  Constitution,  not  as  it  was  but  as  it  is. 

Colonel  George  Francis  Train  and  others  got  up  a  Fourth  of  July 
celebration  on  the  steamer  Atlantic,  White  Star  Line,  1871,  when  a 
few  days  out  from  New  York  for  Liverpool.  I  responded  to  the 
toast,  "The  day  we  celebrate,"  etc.,  and  was  requested  to  write 
out  my  remarks,  which  I  did  the  following  day.  J.  M.  S. 


APPENDIX  II. 

Hall  of  the  Medical  Society  op  South  Carolina,  ) 
Charleston,  S.  C,  December  19,  1883.        f 

At  an  extra  meeting  of  the  Medical  Society  of  South  Carolina, 
the  following  preamble  and  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted : 

At  the  announcement,  some  weeks  since,  of  the  sudden  demise 
of  Dr.  James  Marion  Sims,  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  this,  his  na- 
tive State,  and  of  his  professional  brethren  at  large,  went  out  in  ten- 
der sympathy  and  in  gushing  grief. 

This  national  bereavement  assembles  us  this  morning,  while 
women  everywhere  weep  in  grateful  remembrance  over  his  bier,  to 
pay  the  customary  tribute,  with  more  than  ordinary  impressive- 
ness,  to  the  memory  of  our  illustrious  great!  Our  great,  we  call 
him,  since  he  stands  pre-eminent  above  all  her  sons  in  the  sacred 
domain  of  his  professional  usefulness  and  humanity,  and  because, 
through  his  fame,  he  has  bequeathed  a  bountiful  legacy  to  which  we, 
more  particularly,  exultingly  lay  claim. 

Before  a  strictly  professional  audience,  like  the  present,  there  is 
no  necessity  to  rehearse  those  triumphs  of  genius  and  of  skill  which 
have  for  many  years  pointed  to  J.  Marion  Sims  in  the  world's  esti- 
mation as  to  the  father  of  Gynaecology,  and  could  have  secured  for 
him  such  munificent  rewards  as  to  have  constituted  a  princely  for- 
tune, had  he  claimed  for  himself  alone  any  one  of  his  many  ingen- 
iously invented  appliances,  instead  of  delegating  them,  with  generous 
liberality,  to  suffering  humanity ;  for  in  this  special  department  his 
stream  of  mind  and  invention  seemed  perpetual. 

But,  alas  !  is  it  not  always  so  where  genius  finds  itself  affiliated 
with  a  great  mission  ? 

Does  not  everything  become  subservient  to  the  full  fruition  of 
our  plans  ?  Do  not  all  things  subscribe  to  life's  grand  consummation  ? 
In  the  great  unrest  of  active  discovery  and  invention  there  is  no  af- 


APPENDIX  II.  423 

fluence  of  time  to  be  devoted  to  the  search  after  or  accumulation  of 
wealth. 

How  often  do  we  find  this  the  case  among  original  geniuses  in 
the  varied  departments  within  the  commonwealth  of  knowledge? 

"We  are  told  that  Farraday's  income,  from  commercial  analyses 
and  other  sources,  at  one  time  amounted  to  more  than  £1,000,  when 
Science,  that  harsh  mistress,  seduced  him,  as  her  child,  from  the  ac- 
quisition of  fortune,  by  revealing  new  secrets  from  Nature's  manu- 
scripts day  by  day,  until  his  professional  receipts  fell  to  less  than 
£150,  and  left  him  at  last  relatively  poor. 

When  the  French  Commissioner  from  Europe  urged  Agassiz 
somewhat  importunately,  while  the  latter  was  engaged  with  his 
heaviest  work  in  Cambridge,  to  accept  the  proposals  of  Napoleon, 
with  their  imperial  inducements,  as  the  means  then  offered  him  of 
amassing  wealth,  his  memorable  reply  was:  "I  find  in  America  a 
wide  field  of  discovery  before  me ;  you  must  say  to  the  Emperor 
that  I  have  no  time  left  me  to  make  money."  Indeed,  Marion  Sims's 
absorbing  thought  was  to  devise  hitherto  unrevealed  methods  pe- 
culiarly his  own,  and  new  instruments  for  securing  the  most  perma- 
nent recoveries. 

In  the  accomplishment  of  these  great  ends  he  continued  to  daz- 
zle the  professional  mind  throughout  his  remarkable  career.  It  is 
not  too  much  to  affirm,  as  we  well  know,  that  the  benefit  our  de- 
parted colleague  conferred  upon  the  suppliant  female  patient  every- 
where has  for  all  future  time  thrown  open  the  doors  of  organized 
"  Hospitals  for  the  Incurable,"  wherever  these  may  have  been  estab- 
lished, and  has  said  to  suffering  woman,  in  all  humility  and  in  the 
language  of  the  Great  Physician :  "  Take  up  thy  bed  and  walk." 
But,  when  the  wonderful  results  of  this  life  mission  are  consorted 
with  the  unaffected  simplicity  and  affectionate  impulses  of  his  genial 
nature,  we  realize  the  influence  he  possessed  for  good,  and  the  emi- 
nence to  which  he  so  rapidly  attained. 

But,  alas!  this  much  beloved  and  eminent  colleague  and  friend, 
whose  death  convenes  the  present  assembly,  has  terminated  his  use- 
ful, distinguished,  and  brilliant  career. 

Pipe  in  years,  and  decorated  with  honors  which  an  appreciative 
and  admiring  profession  extended  him,  he  has  passed  away  from 
those  who  loved  him,  and  has  left  scattered  over  his  entire  country 
friends,  admirers  and  competitors,  who  for  nearly  half  a  century 


4:24:  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

have  been  guided  by  his  counsels,  influenced  by  his  example,  and  in- 
structed by  his  doctrinal  teachings. 

It  is  when  Death,  Life's  triumphant  hero,  has  robbed  us  of  the 
good  and  the  great,  that  we  realize  the  magnitude  of  our  loss,  and 
the  void  which  can  not  be  readily  filled. 

When  we  recall  the  excellences  of  his  character  and  the  evi- 
dences of  his  genius,  how  irretrievably  sad  will  be  his  absence  from 
among  us. 

In  accordance,  therefore,  with  the  object  of  this  meeting,  we 
present  the  following  resolutions : 

Resolved,  That,  in  the  death  of  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  we,  his  profes- 
sional brethren,  lament  the  loss  of  an  affectionate  colleague  and  a 
most  able  and  ever-willing  counselor. 

Resolved,  That  in  recognition  of  his  important  disclosures  in  cer- 
tain departments  of  our  science,  and  in  the  impulse  he  has  given  to 
its  electrical  advancement,  the  people  at  large  mourn  the  death  of  a 
most  distinguished  citizen. 

Resolved,  That,  in  view  of  the  world-wide  reputation  of  the  de- 
ceased, which  virtually  constitutes  him  an  honorary  member  of 
every  American  medical  organization,  a  blank  page,  with  its  cus- 
tomary badge  of  mourning,  be  inscribed  to  his  memory  in  the  rec- 
ords of  our  society. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be  transmitted  to  the 
members  of  his  family. 

Resolved,  That  the  proceedings  of  this  meeting  be  published  in 
the  "News"  and  "  Courier.  " 

From  the  minutes. 

(Attested,)  P.  Gottedin  De  Sattssuee,  Secretary. 


APPENDIX  III. 

Tribute  to  the  late  James  Marion  Sims,  M.  D.,  LL.  D.,  by  W.  O. 
Baldwin,  M.  D.,  of  Montgomery,  Alabama,  November,  1883. 

The  following  tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  eminent  surgeon  and 
physician,  the  late  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  who  recently  died  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  was  spoken  at  a  Memorial  Meeting  of  the  Medi- 
cal and  Surgical  Society  of  Montgomery,  and  by  that  body  ordered 
to  be  published  in  the  "  Montgomery  Advertiser."  It  was  after- 
ward reprinted  in  "  Gaillard's  Medical  Journal,"  January,  1884. 
At  the  request  of  some  of  the  friends  and  admirers  of  Dr.  Sims  it  is 
now  published  in  pamphlet  form,  with  a  few  additional  facts  and 
reflections  by  the  author ;  who  desires  to  say  that,  while  some  of 
the  prominent  facts  and  incidents  in  the  life  of  this  great  man  have 
been  briefly  glanced  at,  others  of  almost  equal  importance  have  not 
been  noticed  at  all.  All  of  these,  when  collected  and  fully  detailed, 
will  form  a  large  volume  of  the  deepest  interest.  "W.  O.  B. 

Sketches  and  Reminiscences  of  the  Life  of  Br.  J.  Marion  Sims,  as  given 
at  the  late  Memorial  Meeting  of  the  Medical  and  Surgical 
Society  of  Montgomery,  by  W.  0.  Baldwin,  M.  B.,  of  Mont- 
gomery, Alabama. 

After  the  introduction  of  appropriate  preamble  and  resolutions, 
with  addresses  from  other  gentlemen,  Dr.  W.  O.  Baldwin  said : 

Mr.  President  and  Gentlemen  :  In  my  somewhat  lengthened 
life  it  has  often  been  my  lot  to  mourn  the  death  of  loved  friends  and 
associates,  and  to  feel  those  bitter  heartaches  which  spring  from  lost 
companionship  and  cherished  affections.  One  by  one,  I  have  seen 
many  such  whose  lives  had  become  a  prominent  part  of  my  pleas- 
ures here  pass  to  the  spirit  land  ;  but  seldom  in  all  my  life  has  my 
heart  been  so  filled  with  gloom  as  since  the  morning  when  the  wires 


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APPENDIX  III.  427 

lie  remained  about  two  years,  during  which  time  he  returned  to  Lan- 
caster (in  1836)  and  married  Miss  Eliza  Theresa  Jones,  who  still  sur- 
vives him.  Returning  to  Mount  Meigs  with  his  wife,  and  remaining 
a  year  longer,  he  removed  to  Macon  county  in  1837,  and  settled  in 
a  neighborhood  near  Cubahatchee  Creek,  and  not  far  from  a  little 
place  called  Cross  Keys.  From  this  place  he  came  to  Montgomery 
in  1840,  bringing  with  him  his  little  family — consisting  of,  I  think, 
his  wife  and  two  little  girls.  It  was  at  this  juncture  of  his  life  that 
I  first  knew  Dr.  Sims.  He  was  about  six  years  my  senior,  yet  we 
soon  became  intimate  friends,  I  suppose  partly  from  the  fact  that  I 
was  nearer  his  age  than  any  of  the  other  physicians  of  the  place,  and 
the  additional  fact  that  neither  of  us  was  overwhelmed  with  busi- 
ness, and  had  plenty  of  leisure  to  cultivate  each  other's  society.  I 
thought  he  was  the  most  winning  and  captivating  man  I  had  ever 
met,  and  I  soon  learned  to  love  him  as  I  did  my  own  brother.  Meet- 
ing a  reciprocal  feeling  of  attachment  on  his  part,  our  intercourse 
soon  ripened  into  confidential  relations,  which  were  not  disturbed 
during  his  residence  in  this  place. 

"When  Dr.  Sims  located  in  Montgomery,  he  had  scarcely  any  in- 
come except  from  his  profession,  and,  that  being  quite  limited  for 
the  first  year,  he  was  sorely  troubled,  for  a  time,  to  meet  his  cur- 
rent expenses. 

But  his  was  not  a  nature  to  be  long  discouraged.  He  was  all 
zeal,  energy,  and  pluck.  Within  a  few  months  after  he  located 
here,  the  operations  for  club-foot  and  cross-eyes,  the  latter  of  which 
had  but  recently  been  devised  by  Deiffenbach,  in  1839,  and  practiced 
successfully  by  him,  were  creating  quite  a  sensation  in  Columbia, 
South  Carolina.  Dr.  Toland,  then  of  that  city,  and  now  of  San 
Francisco,  had  but  recently  returned  from  Paris,  and  was  making 
quite  a  reputation  as  a  surgeon  by  performing  these  operations  in 
Columbia.  I  heard  Dr.  Sims  read  from  a  newspaper,  published  in 
that  city  in  1841,  the  first  accounts  he  had  ever  seen  of  the  opera- 
tion for  cross-eyes,  commenting  most  favorably  upon  Dr.  Toland's 
success.  This,  I  believe,  was  the  starting-point  of  the  great  success 
of  Dr.  Toland  as  a  surgeon. 

Dr.  Sims  immediately  procured  for  himself  a  neat  case  of  eye  in- 
struments, and  was  not  long  in  finding  cases  of  each  of  these  un- 
seemly deformities  upon  which  to  try  his  skill. 

I  was  present  at  his  first  operation  for  each.    They  were  attended 


428  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

with  beautiful  success,  and  being  novel  were  much  talked  about. 
He  was,  even  at  that  day,  a  remarkably  neat  operator,  and  I  think 
handled  the  knife  with  more  grace  and  skill  than  any  man  I  have 
ever  known  of  his  age.  His  first  successes  brought  him  other  cases, 
until  within  one  or  two  years  he  had  about  finished  up  and  straight- 
ened all  the  cross-eyes  and  club-feet  within  forty  or  fifty  miles  of 
Montgomery.  This  proved  to  be  his  stepping-  stone  to  general  sur- 
gery, and  within  a  few  years  more  he  had  the  largest  surgical  prac- 
tice in  the  State,  excepting,  perhaps,  that  of  Dr.  J.  C.  Knott,  of 
Mobile.  He  was  a  bold,  fearless,  and  dashing  operator,  and  would 
undertake  almost  any  case  tbat  another  surgeon  dare  encounter. 

At  this  day  we  had  no  such  thing  as  specialties  in  this  part  of 
the  country,  and  a  man  who  could  operate  for  cross-eyes  would  be 
trusted  to  operate  in  the  most  formidable  surgical  diseases,  and  was 
also  considered  a  good  physician  in  all  the  various  departments  of 
medicine.  So  that  his  surgical  reputation  in  turn  brought  him  into 
general  practice,  and  very  soon  he  had  the  largest  family  practice 
that  had  ever  been  done  in  this  place  by  any  physician  up  to  that 
time.  His  services  were  sought  by  all  classes  of  people,  and  in  all 
kinds  of  cases.  He  was  frequently,  though  still  a  very  young  man, 
called  into  consultation  with  the  oldest  and  most  experienced  phy- 
sicians of  the  place,  men  who  had  long  been  established  in  practice. 
He  was  immensely  popular,  and  greatly  beloved,  so  that  he  was  a 
formidable  rival  to  the  best  established  physicians,  and  with  all 
these  facts  it  would  not  be  greatly  surprising  if  he  did  not  always 
escape  criticism.  But,  when  such  things  were  carried  to  his  ears, 
they  never  made  the  slightest  difference  in  his  feelings  or  his  deport- 
ment toward  the  authors  of  them,  but  he  would  meet  and  pass  them 
with  the  same  kind  word  and  pleasant  smile  which  were  always  his 
custom. 

"When  Dr.  Sims  came  to  Montgomery  we  had  no  medical  society 
for  the  report  of  cases  and  the  discussion  of  medical  subjects.  Very 
soon  after  he  located  here  he  took  an  active  part  in  the  formation 
of  the  old  medical  society,  and  was  from  that  time  one  of  the  lead- 
ing members  in  its  affairs,  and  much  of  the  esprit  du  corps  which 
has  since  distinguished  the  physicians  of  the  place  was  due  to  his 
example  and  influence. 

While  he  lived  here  he  performed  almost  all  the  important  sur- 
gical operations  known  to  the  science  at  that  day.    He  was  from 


APPENDIX  HI.  429 

the  first  a  hard  student,  and  thoroughly  methodical  in  keeping  notes, 
records,  and  histories  of  his  cases,  in  reading  medical  journals,  and 
in  keeping  up  with  the  medical  literature  of  his  day. 

After  the  first  year  of  his  residence  here,  he  kept  a  private  hos- 
pital, in  which  to  care  for  his  surgical  cases.  This,  after  he  first 
became  interested  in  his  speculum,  and  in  uterine  surgery,  he  de- 
voted exclusively  to  females,  and  especially  to  such  cases  in  uterine 
surgery  as  were  calculated  to  test  the  value  of  his  speculum,  in  which 
he  was  already  deeply  interested. 

I  do  not  remember  the  precise  year,  but  it  was  after  he  had 
acquired  his  great  local  reputation  as  a  surgeon,  that  he  became 
earnestly  engaged  in  working  out  what  was  at  first  known  as  his 
duck-bill  speculum,  the  vaginal  speculum,  which  now  bears  his 
name,  and  which  was  the  foundation  of  the  brilliant  reputation 
which  he  subsequently  achieved.  He  interested  his  medical  friends 
in  the  country  in  hunting  up  for  him  difficult  cases  of  uterine  dis- 
eases which  had  resisted  treatment  in  the  hands  of  other  physicians, 
and  he  was  delighted  when  among  these  he  could  find  a  case  of 
vesico-vaginal  fistula,  that  loathsome  disease  of  woman,  which  had 
previously  been  regarded  as  the  opprobrium  of  surgery,  and  which 
physicians  rather  shunned  than  courted.  He  became  enthusiastic 
in  this,  as  he  was  in  all  his  pursuits,  and  was  not  slow  in  finding 
cases  of  this  disgusting  disease,  particularly  among  the  slave  popu- 
lation, whose  management  in  accouchement  was  generally  confined 
to  the  ignorant  midwives  of  their  own  color.  His  efforts  promised 
success  from  the  start,  sufficient  to  encourage  him  to  continue  his 
labors.  Failures  did  not  dishearten  or  repulse  him,  but  he  worked 
on  and  on,  sometimes  performing  dozens  of  operations  on  the  same 
case,  until  final  success  was  achieved.  During  all  this  time  he  was 
devising  methods  and  plans  for  procedure  in  his  operations,  and  was 
inventing  instruments  and  appliances  as  collateral  aids  to  his  specu- 
lum. Of  all  his  labors,  trials,  and  achievements  in  this  direction, 
I  think  he  has  somewhere  published  a  statement— probably  in  the 
"American  Journal  of  Medical  Sciences,"  or  it  may  be  found,  per- 
haps, in  his  book  entitled  "Notes  on  Uterine  Surgery,"  which  I 
have  not  looked  at  lately. 

If  my  memory  serves  me  correctly  this  brings  us  to  about  the 
year  1850,  when,  in  the  midst  of  his  investigations,  his  health  failed 
him,  and  he  gave  up  much  of  his  time  to  visiting  different  health 


430  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

resorts  in  order  to  regain  it.  This  was  a  serious  drawback  to  Mm, 
and  came  near  ending  his  life.  Having  no  regular  or  fixed  income, 
and  receiving  now  but  little  from  Ms  professional  services,  his  finan- 
cial affairs  suffered  greatly,  and  he  again  became  hard  pressed  for 
ready  means  to  support  his  family,  which  had  grown  to  be  larger 
and  much  more  expensive  than  when  he  came  to  Montgomery. 

About  the  year  1851  or  1852,  I  think  it  was,  he  began  to  enter- 
tain the  thought  of  leaving  Montgomery.  The  plea  which  he  gave 
for  wishing  to  remove  to  New  York  was  that  he  believed  this  cli- 
mate was  unsuited  to  his  health,  but  it  is  also  probable  that  his  de- 
sire to  find  a  larger  field  in  which  to  display  his  discoveries  in  that 
department  of  surgery  to  which  he  had  lately  been  devoting  his 
time  had  much  to  do  with  his  desire  to  change. 

From  the  time  he  reached  New  York  to  make  it  his  home  (1 
think  in  1853),  most  of  you  are  probably  as  familiar  with  his  move- 
ments as  I  am,  and  I  shall  not  attempt  any  further  connected  ac- 
count of  him. 

I  will  say,  however,  after  further  and  fully  demonstrating  the 
value  of  his  speculum  and  various  other  instruments  and  devices 
used  in  his  operations,  and  displaying  his  own  superior  skill  in  the 
use  of  them,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  thought  and  purpose  of 
founding,  through  his  exertions,  a  great  charity,  in  that  large  me- 
tropolis, for  the  treatment  of  the  diseases  peculiar  to  women.  You 
all  know  of  his  labors  in  that  direction,  for  they  are  now  a  matter 
of  history.  You  all  know  how  faithfully  he  labored  with  some  of 
the  great  and  benevolent  of  his  own  profession,  and  how  he  be- 
sought and  obtained  their  aid ;  how  he  appealed  to  the  hearts  and 
enlisted  the  help  of  the  influential,  the  opulent,  and  the  philan- 
thropic ;  how  he  visited  and  obtained  from  the  Legislature  of  the 
State  a  donation  of  fifty  thousand  dollars;  how  he  besought  the 
city  fathers  for  municipal  aid,  and  procured  through  them  a  grant  of 
land  from  the  city  which  constitutes  the  site  on  which  the  hospital 
now  stands ;  how  he,  with  ceaseless  and  tireless  energy,  worked  and 
planned,  with  a  devotion  and  singleness  of  purpose  rarely  met  with, 
until  the  Woman's  Hospital  was  an  accomplished  fact.  This  act  of 
his  alone  shows  what  a  magnetic  power  he  must  have  possessed. 
How  he,  a  stranger,  he  who  had  scarcely  emerged  from  the  ob- 
scurity of  a  country  life  and  himself  in  poverty,  could  so  move  the 
hearts  of  the  people  of  a  great  city  suoh  as  New  York,  and  make 


APPENDIX  III.  431 

himself  the  first  and  final  cause  of  a  great  enterprise  which,  like  the 
"Woman's  Hospital,  should  be  a  blessing  to  his  race,  proves  how 
earnestly  and  untiringly  he  must  have  exerted  his  powers  of  persua- 
sion over  the  minds  of  men.  His  efforts  in  the  scheme  of  establish- 
ing this  hospital,  strange  to  say,  were  not  always  without  opposition 
from  quarters  where  it  should  have  been  least  expected.  And  yet 
this  opposition  probably  aided  him  in  his  work,  and  was  one  of  his 
credentials  to  genius  and  goodness.  True  men  often  owe  no  little 
of  their  power  and  success  to  the  hostility,  jealousy,  and  littleness 
of  others.  He  was  not  only  a  man  of  genius,  but  he  was  a  lovable 
man,  full  of  personal  magnetism,  full  of  kind  and  tender  instincts, 
alive  to  the  romance  that  redeems  life  from  commonplace  and 
routine,  and  abounding  in  those  high  impulses  which  make  their 
subjects  benefactors  because  they  are  enthusiasts  in  the  pursuit  of 
truth.  No  man  could  be  an  hour  with  him  and  not  feel  the  sim- 
plicity and  fervor  of  his  nature,  the  straightforwardness  of  purpose 
and  intent  which  went  into  all  his  intercourse  with  others,  and  the 
absorption  of  his  whole  being  in  the  work  he  had  set  himself  to  ac- 
complish. 

Dr.  Sims's  health  was  never  robust,  and  yet  he  could  endure  an 
amount  of  prolonged  physical  exertion  which  was  remarkable  for 
one  of  his  apparently  delicate  physique.  He  had  lived  beyond  the 
age  of  three  score  and  ten,  and  yet  his  death  was  a  great  surprise 
to  those  of  us  who  knew  something  of  the  elasticity  of  his  constitu- 
tion and  the  great  care  he  always  took  of  his  health.  I  have  seen 
much  of  him  within  the  last  fifteen  years;  I  have  been  with  him 
often  in  New  York,  and  have  met  him  at  various  other  places,  and 
twice  during  that  time  he  has  paid  long  visits  to  Montgomery.  I 
was  led  to  believe  that  he  would  probably  reach  fourscore  and  ten, 
so  perfect  seemed  his  physical  and  mental  preservation.  When  I 
saw  him  last  he  looked  as  if  he  had  not  more  than  reached  the  me- 
ridian of  life,  and  he  told  me  he  thought  he  would  live  to  be  ninety 
— though  at  that  time  he  had  no  idea  of  any  organic  trouble  about 
his  heart.  Only  a  few  days  before  his  death  I  received  two  letters 
from  him,  written  on  two  consecutive  days,  in  which  he  says: 
"  You  can't  imagine  how  disappointed  I  am  that  I  could  not  make 
you  all  a  visit  this  fall.  But  if  I  live  another  year  you  may  count 
on  seeing  me  in  Montgomery.  But  for  that  dreadful  pneumonia,  I 
would  certainly  have  lived  to  be  ninety.     But  my  heart  gives  me  so 


432  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

much  trouble  that  I  have  given  up  the  idea  of  longevity ;  still  I  hope 
to  hold  on  a  while  longer."  "While  he  was  in  Eome  last,  in  one  of 
my  letters  to  him,  I  begged  him  to  stop  his  wandering,  cosmopolitan 
life,  and  settle  down  in  ISTew  York,  and  die  there  when  it  should 
please  Heaven  to  end  his  days.  In  his  reply,  under  date  of  Rome, 
January  14,  1883,  he  says:  "I  spend  most  of  my  time  in  Europe, 
because  my  life  is  more  pleasant  here;  my  fees  are  much  larger,  I 
make  more  money,  my  work  is  lighter,  and  I  have  more  leisure." 
And  in  the  last  of  the  two  letters  referred  to  above  he  again  refers 
to  the  same  subject,  and  says  :  "  I  can  not  follow  your  advice  and 
settle  in  New  York.  I  could  not  possibly  do  the  work  here.  I 
must  go,  and  will  sail  on  Thursday,  the  8th,  on  the  Celtic.  I  shall 
remain  about  three  weeks  in  Paris,  on  my  way  to  Rome."  During 
the  latter  part  of  the  summer  my  letters  from  him  were  written  at 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Yulee,  formerly  United  States  Senator  from 
Florida,  but  now  living  in  Massachusetts.  While  there  he  was  oc- 
cupied chiefly  in  dictating  to  a  stenographer  his  autobiography.  He 
sent  me  advance  sheets  as  they  had  been  printed  by  a  type- writer. 
It  consists  of  a  brief  history  of  his  life,  modestly  told,  interspersed 
with  little  anecdotes  and  life-stories  which  no  one  could  tell  so  well 
as  himself,  if  at  all.  It  is  deeply  interesting,  and  reads  like  a  ro- 
mance. He  did  not  expect  to  complete  it  before  he  reached  Europe, 
but  I  sincerely  hope  he  brought  it  far  enough  up  to  make  its  com- 
pletion an  easy  task  for  one  of  his  children. 

Dr.  Sims's  domestic  relations  were  most  fortunate  and  happy. 
The  wife  who  survives  him,  and  who  now  sits  in  the  tearful  and  hope- 
less agony  of  her  grief  within  the  precincts  of  Madison  Avenue,  was 
the  sweetheart  of  his  boyhood.  She  was  a  loving  and  cheerful  com- 
panion, a  wise  counselor,  a  true  helpmeet ;  and  throughout  his  brill- 
iant but  checkered  and  eventful  life  she  shared  his  prosperity  with 
joy  and  gladness,  and  bore  his  adversities  with  becoming  patience 
and  resignation ;  but  at  all  times,  and  under  all  circumstances,  she 
was  to  him  "like  the  ivy  to  the  oak,  which  clings  closest  in  the 
storm."  It  was  beautiful  to  see  him  in  the  sanctuary  of  his  own 
home,  when  surrounded  by  his  wife  and  children,  and  to  witness 
their  common  devotion,  where,  even  in  his  advanced  age,  he  seemed 
as  the  "big  brother  "  of  the  family.  And  when  in  their  youth, 
with  but  two  little  children  hanging  upon  their  hearts,  I  used  to  visit 
them  at  their  modest  little  home  in  this  place,  they  made  a  picture 


APPENDIX  III.  433 

of  sweet  and  confiding  domestic  bliss  which  has  not,  in  all  these 
changing  years,  left  iny  memory.  At  that  time  I  had  no  matrimo- 
nial ties  nor  expectations,  but  their  intercourse,  I  am  sure,  left  a  charm 
and  a  lesson  on  my  heart  which  has  not  been  without  its  pleasures, 
as  well  as  profits.  In  later  years  he  expressed  to  me  the  same  chiv- 
alric  and  tender  devotion  to  his  old  sweetheart,  and  assured  me  that 
all  he  was  in  this  world  was  due  to  his  fortunate  selection  of  a  wife. 

As  an  author  Dr.  Sims  stood  well.  He  was  never  a  voluminous 
writer  on  any  of  the  subjects  of  which  he  treated.  His  work  en- 
titled "  Notes  on  Uterine  Surgery"  was  his  largest,  and  was  quite  a 
respectable  volume.  It  was  printed  in  London  in  1866,  and  was  re- 
printed in  several  languages.  It  created  quite  a  sensation,  from  the 
number  of  original,  novel,  and  valuable  lessons  which  it  taught.  It 
also  met  with  some  sharp  criticisms,  and,  perhaps,  it  was  not  en- 
tirely free  from  blemishes.  But,  had  he  lived  according  to  his  ex- 
pectations, he  would  have  corrected  all  these  in  good  time,  as  it  is 
known  he  was  engaged  in  rewriting  it,  and  had  already  completed 
several  new  chapters,  and  had  revised  others.  Take  it,  however,  as 
it  stands,  and  with  all  its  defects,  there  has  been  no  work  published 
on  uterine  surgery  within  the  last  century  that  has  been  as  full  of 
original  thought  and  invention,  or  that  has  contributed  so  largely  to 
the  advancement  of  gynaecology  as  this  book  has  done.  I  will  not 
attempt  to  go  into  detail  about  his  writings.  Although  I  am  some- 
what familiar  with  them  all,  I  have  no  list  of  them  with  me. 
Though  his  contributions  were  not  long  they  were  not  infrequent, 
and  many  valuable  essays  on  different  subjects  were  furnished  by 
him  to  the  medical  press  of  his  day.  It  is  not  the  length  or  the 
number  of  the  books,  however,  which  a  man  may  write,  but  it  is 
the  originality  and  the  value  of  the  material  with  which  he  fills 
them  which  make  them  desirable.  His  were  all  terse,  original  and 
eminently  practical.  His  style  was  peculiar ;  it  was  altogether  di- 
dactic, and  it  was  his  own. 

I  can  not,  either,  undertake,  in  the  short  space  of  time  allotted  to 
occasions  like  this,  to  go  into  detail  in  enumerating  the  number  of 
instruments  which  he  invented,  or  the  operations  or  operative  pro- 
cedures which  he  devised  or  planned,  but  their  number  was  immense, 
and  shows  how  fertile  of  ingenuity  was  his  brain  and  how  busily 
and  skillfully  it  must  have  worked.  He  does  not  seem  to  be  entitled 
to  priority  in  the  discovery  of  metallic  sutures,  but  he  was  certainly 

19 


434  THE  STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

entitled  to  great  credit  in  their  revival  and  the  vast  prominence 
which  he  gave  them. 

Dr.  Sims  was  never  connected  with  a  medical  school,  but  only 
because  he  did  not  desire  it.  There  was  probably  no  institution  of 
the  kind  within  the  limits  of  all  this  country  that  would  not  most 
gladly  have  given  him  a  professorship  could  he  have  been  induced 
to  accept  it. 

Dr.  Sims's  clients,  especially  in  Europe,  seem  to  have  been  people 
of  great  wealth,  and,  from  his  acknowledged  superiority  in.  his  spe- 
cial department,  he  was  able  to  command  the  largest  fees,  and  yet  he 
never  became  rich.  He  also  had  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  value 
of  his  services,  and  usually  demanded  an  adequate  honorarium  where 
his  patient's  purse  could  afford  it,  but  when  it  came  into  his  posses- 
sion it  seems  that  it  was  either  lavishly  spent  or  unwisely  invested. 
(We  are  glad  to  learn,  however,  he  left  a  competency  for  his  family.) 
He  was  also  a  man  of  large  charities.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  dwell 
upon  these  minor  points  in  his  life.  The  day  which  made  him  great 
was  the  day  when  the  idea  of  his  speculum  first  dawned  upon  him 
— that  day  when  he  first  conceived  the  thought  of  throwing  an 
abundance  of  light  into  the  vagina  and  around  the  womb,  and  at  the 
same  time  obtaining  ample  space  to  work  and  ply  his  instruments. 
This  alone  is  enough  to  carry  his  fame  down  to  the  remotest  ages, 
and  his  historian  will  need  no  more  brilliant  facts  than  these  on 
which  to  rest  the  immortality  of  his  name.  This  instrument  caused 
his  name  to  flash  over  the  medical  world  like  a  meteor  in  the  night. 

Gynaecology  to-day  would  not  deserve  the  name  of  a  separate  and 
cultivated  science,  but  for  the  light  which  Sims's  speculum  and  the 
principles  involved  in  it  have  thrown  upon  it.  It  has  been  to  dis- 
eases of  the  womb  what  the  printing  press  is  to  civilization,  what 
the  compass  is  to  the  mariner,  what  steam  is  to  navigation,  what  the 
telescope  is  to  astronomy,  and  grander  than  the  telescope  because  it 
was  the  work  of  one  man.  Those  great  philosophers,  Galileo, 
Gregory,  Herschel,  and  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  all  claim  and  deserve  suc- 
cessive parts  of  the  telescope.  Sims  alone  discovered  his  speculum, 
and,  like  Minerva  from  the  brain  of  Jupiter,  it  sprang  from  his  hands 
alone,  full  fledged  and  perfect  when  he  gave  it  to  the  world.  His 
work  was  so  complete  that  it  is  said  that  no  alteration  or  modifica- 
tions which  have  since  been  made  upon  it,  up  to  this  time,  have  been 
regarded  as  improvements.     The  distinguished  Dr.  Emmet,  of  New 


APPENDIX  III.  435 

York,  who  is  peer  to  any  living  gynaecologist,  and  whose  reputation 
is  world  wide,  has  been  heard  to  say,  within  the  last  few  years,  that 
so  perfect  was  Sims's  speculum  and  other  instruments,  that  he  had 
never  been  able  to  improve  upon  one  of  them.  No  man  can  divide 
the  honor  of  his  speculum  with  him,  and  he  deserves  to  be  called 
the  father  of  modern  gynaecology. 

Thus,  starting  amid  the  sloughs  and  swamps  of  Alabama,  having 
for  his  patients  the  most  humble  in  the  land,  often  spending  his 
nightsby  the  bedside  of  the  sick  found  in  the  slave  huts  of  these  locali- 
ties, without  family  influence,  himself  poor  and  with  nothing  to  aid 
him  save  a  strong  will  and  a  carefnl  preparation,  combined  with  a 
devotion  to  purpose,  he  rose  by  the  splendor  of  his  own  genius  above 
all  obstacles,  and  before  he  has  reached  the  meridian  of  life  we  find 
him  one  of  the  acknowledged  discoverers  and  benefactors  of  the 
world,  and  ranking  as  one  of  the  foremost  men  in  his  own  country. 
A  few  years  later  we  hear  of  him  in  all  the  great  capitals  of  Europe ; 
sometimes  the  guest  and  pet  of  emperors,  often  receiving  honors  and 
distinctions  from  learned  and  enlightened  scientific  bodies,  courted 
by  the  elite  of  his  own  profession,  sought  by  the  nobility,  and  receiv- 
ing titles  and  decorations  from  courts  representing  and  boasting  the 
foremost  civilization  the  world  has  ever  known. 

I  believe  that  before  the  next  decade  shall  have  passed  away, 
when  time  with  its  silent  throb  shall  have  buried  those  antagonisms, 
rivalries,  and  jealousies  which  often  spring  up  around  the  paths  of 
great  discoverers,  it  will  be  the  settled  verdict  of  the  medical  men 
of  the  world  that  Sims  has  lived  to  a  greater  purpose  than  any  man 
in  any  age  who  had  preceded  him  in  his  special  department. 

Gentlemen,  there  is  one  page  in  the  life  of  this  great  man,  one 
scene  in  the  living  panorama  of  which  he  constituted  a  part,  that  I 
would  fain  not  disturb,  and  one  on  which  I  would  prefer  to  drop  the 
mantle  of  oblivion,  were  it  not  that  it  is  already  a  matter  of  history, 
and  perhaps  it  is  due  to  the  memory  of  Dr.  Sims  that  I  should  refer 
to  it.  I  alluded  to  the  night  when,  as  one  of  the  surgeons,  he  last 
met  the  governors  of  the  Woman's  Hospital,  and  which  closed  for- 
ever his  connection  with  that  institution. 

It  is  said  that  republics  are  ungrateful,  and  it  therefore  should 
not  be  surprising  if  even  the  governors  of  charitable  institutions 
should  sometimes  forget  their  greatest  benefactors,  and  smite  the 
cheek  of  him  whose  hand  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  calling  them 


436  TELE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

into  existence.  The  "Woman's  Hospital  was  Dr.  Sims's  bantling. 
The  creation  of  its  germ  and  the  conception  of  its  possibilities  were 
the  outgrowth  of  those  discoveries  which  emanated  from  his  brain 
alone,  and  its  final  success  was  due  to  his  untiring  exertions.  He 
was  proud  of  his  work ;  he  was  proud  of  the  child  of  his  own  life, 
and  when  the  Woman's  Hospital  was  completed  he  regarded  it  as 
the  largest  pearl  in  all  his  greatness — the  central  jewel  in  his  crown 
of  glory.  But  while  it  was  the  glory  of  his  life  it  was  its  humilia- 
tion too ! 

Those  governors,  who  were  in  fact  but  little  more  than  figure- 
heads so  far  as  the  privileges  and  duties  of  the  surgeons  were  con- 
cerned, had  taken  upon  themselves  the  privilege  of  regulating  the 
affairs  of  the  operating-room,  and  of  saying  to  the  surgeons  that  only 
fifteen  guests  or  spectators  should  be  permitted  to  be  present  at  any 
one  operation.  Dr.  Sims  took  this  occasion  for  telling  them  that  he 
had  not  obeyed  this  order  of  theirs,  and  would  not,  and  that  if  they 
insisted  on  enforcing  this  rule  his  resignation  was  at  their  disposal. 
He  claimed  the  right  to  invite  such  numbers  as  his  own  judgment 
and  inclination  might  dictate. 

Their  action  in  assuming  to  restrict  his  privileges,  in  this  respect, 
he  regarded  as  without  authority.  To  a  man  of  honor  their  action 
must  have  been  offensive. 

In  effect  it  accused  him  of  being  ignorant  of  the  surgeon's  duties 
in  the  sick-room,  and  of  wanting  in  a  proper  regard  for  the  feelings 
and  sensibilities  of  his  patients.  All  this  made  it  insulting  and  gall- 
ing to  him,  and  especially  as  he  knew  it  to  be  an  unauthorized  inva- 
sion of  his  own  prerogatives,  inherent  to  the  office  which  he  held, 
and  altogether  outside  of  their  accredited  duties. 

All  the  world  over,  the  creed  of  common  courtsey  which  exists 
between  the  laity  and  profession  makes  the  physician  the  autocrat 
of  the  sick-chamber,  and  the  privilege  of  the  surgeon,  as  to  whom  he 
will  invite  to  his  operating  table  or  room,  has  never  before  been  re- 
stricted. If  it  was  wrong  to  invite  all  who  desired  to  attend,  or  all 
whom  the  surgeon  might  wish  to  witness  his  operation,  why  invite 
fifteen  ?  It  was  not  necessary  to  invite  any  !  The  hospital  service 
afforded  all  necessary  assistance.  If  it  would  not  offend  the  sensi- 
bilities of  a  woman  to  have  fifteen  guests  present,  would  it  shock 
her  modesty  very  greatly  to  have  eighteen,  or  twenty,  or  fifty,  or  a 
hundred,  or  any  number  that  the  room  could  accommodate  con- 


APPENDIX  III.  437 

veniently?  Besides,  it  is  well  known  that  the  patients  in  this 
hospital  are  rarely  ever  seen  by  the  spectators  until  after  they 
have  been  placed  upon  the  operating-table  and  under  the  influence 
of  an  anaesthetic,  when  the  table  is  rolled  into  position.  An- 
other and  even  stronger  reason  exists  against  this  restriction.  To 
serve  all  the  purposes  in  the  interest  of  woman  of  which  this  hos- 
pital was  capable,  it  was  doubtless  intended,  or  in  contemplation  by 
Dr.  Sims  from  the  first,  that  it  should  be  used  as  a  school,  so  far  as 
possible,  for  teaching  physicians  from  the  country,  or  city,  or  other 
cities,  or  from  other  States  or  nations,  who  might  temporarily  be  in 
New  York  for  the  purpose  of  studying  that  class  of  diseases,  and 
would  like  to  see  these  operations. 

But  suppose  these  governors  could  find  nothing  in  all  these  facts 
to  make  them  retrace  their  steps,  could  they  find  nothing  in  the  fact 
that  Dr.  Sims  thought  they  were  in  error,  and  wished  them  to  recon- 
sider their  unjust  and  unwise  action  ?  Could  they  not  have  con- 
ceded something  to  the  opinions  of  the  man  who  had  created  the 
hospital,  who  had  devoted  fifteen  or  twenty  of  the  best  years  of  his 
life  to  its  service,  who  had  passed  many  weary  days  and  sleepless 
nights  in  the  promotion  of  its  interest,  and  had  carried  it  upon  his 
heart  as  none  of  them  had  ever  done?  They  knew  he  had  placed 
himself  in  a  position,  in  relation  to  the  order  which  they  had  issued, 
from  which  he  could  not  recede  without  loss  of  dignity  or  even 
honor ;  they  knew  he  did  not  wish  to  sever  his  connection  with  the 
hospital,  and  they  knew  he  did  not  wish  his  resignation  accepted, 
and  yet,  with  a  heartless  and  cruel  inflexibility,  they  refused  to 
abolish  their  miserable  order  and  accepted  his  resignation  ;  thus 
stabbing  him  in  the  most  vital  spot  of  his  life,  and  mortifying  him  as 
nothing  else  had  ever  done. 

In  this  difficulty  Dr.  Sims  had  the  sympathy  of  a  large  portion  of 
the  medical  men  of  America.  And,  as  an  expression  of  their  senti- 
ments in  this  direction,  the  American  Medical  Association,  at  its 
very  next  meeting,  unanimously  elected  him  its  president.  He  was 
elected  in  Louisville  in  1875,  and  presided  at  the  meeting  held  in 
Philadelphia  the  succeeding  year,  known  as  the  "  centennial  session." 
This  was  the  very  highest  honor  which  could  have  been  paid  him 
by  the  medical  men  of  his  own  country.  "While  Dr.  Sims  in  every 
way  deserved  this  high  compliment,  and  was  himself  an  honor  to 
the  position,  I  yet  have  reason  to  know  that  he  was  selected  at  this 


438  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

particular  time  over  other  distinguished  aspirants,  not  only  that  they 
might  thus  express  their  admiration  of  his  exalted  worth,  but  also  in 
approval  of  the  manly,  dignified  and  honorable  position  which  he 
had  assumed  and  maintained  in  his  controversy  with  the  managers 
or  governors  of  the  "Woman's  Hospital. 

When  the  names  of  these  sickly  sentimental  governors  shall  long 
since  have  passed  into  oblivion,  and  their  foolish  rules  and  regula- 
tions, in  connection  with  this  hospital,  shall  have  been  wisely  for- 
gotten by  the  world,  the  name  of  Sims  shall  be  known  and  read  of 
all  men  as  its  great  founder  and  patron,  and  emblazoned  all  over  its 
walls  "  from  turret  to  foundation  stone  "  as  its  ensign-armorial  and 
shield  to  guard  it  against  evil  and  unwise  spirits. 

Nor  can  posterity  accept  the  imputation  as  true  or  just,  that  the 
man  who  had  planned,  and  schemed,  and  worked,  even  in  the  mid- 
night solitude  of  his  office,  that  his  life  might  finally  achieve  this 
good  to  woman,  could  be  false  to  any  of  the  proper  delicacies  or 
courtesies  due  to  her  sex.  I  will  not  pursue  this  subject  further — 
it  is  not  a  pleasant  one  to  dwell  upon.  He  is  now  far  beyond  the 
cruel  malice  or  petty  jealousies  of  those  who  bore  a  part  in  inflict- 
ing this  mortification  upon  him ;  and  the  manhood  which  recognizes 
the  great  value  of  his  life  will  see  to  it  that  his  name  does  not  suffer 
neglect  in  the  grave. 

The  friendship  and  affection  which  valued  his  exalted  worth  and 
appreciated  the  beauty  of  his  life  would  not  shadow  his  claims  to 
the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  the  world  by  exaggerating  them,  or 
by  saying  that  he  possessed  none  of  the  weaknesses  common  to 
human  nature.  He  no  doubt  had  his  share  of  these.  It  is  known 
to  his  friends  that  he  was  sometimes  fretful,  impatient,  and  intol- 
erant about  minor  matters  or  little  crosses,  and,  when  vexed  or 
angered,  did  not  usually  attempt  to  conceal  his  displeasure.  He 
was  at  times  excitable,  jealous  of  his  rights,  and  keenly  alive  to  any 
encroachment  upon  his  claims  to  those  discoveries  which  he  thought 
belonged  exclusively  to  himself,  and  when  he  considered  them  un- 
justly invaded  he  was  offended,  and  outspoken  to  a  degree  beyond 
the  reserve  usually  found  in  men  of  less  mercurial  dispositions.  I 
do  not  refer  to  these  things  as  faults,  for  they,  like  his  other  traits, 
but  go  to  prove  that  he  was  a  man  without  guile  or  deceit — too 
honest  to  dissemble,  too  noble  to  disguise.  Vices  he  had  none,  or 
if  he  had  I  never  knew  them.    If  he  had  faults  they  were  harmless 


APPENDIX  III.  439 

to  others,  and  deserve  the  name  of  frailties  or  foibles  rather  than 
faults,  and  were  to  his  brilliant  life  only  as  the  spots  on  the  sun  are 
to  the  splendor  of  that  luminary. 

For  nearly  half  a  century  our  friend  pursued  his  profession  with 
an  energy  and  devotion  which  were  as  inspiring  to  himself  as  they 
were  beneficial  to  medical  science  and  the  welfare  of  humanity. 

The  selfishness  of  renown  had  not  a  charm  for  him.  Distinction 
he  valued,  as  every  high-minded  professional  man  values  it,  for  its 
influence  and  intended  usefulness.  It  came  to  him  without  the  least 
resort  to  doubtful  means,  and  it  remained  to  him  as  an  inalienable 
possession.  No  wreath  upon  his  brow  was  other  than  a  garland  of 
just  and  honorable  fame;  and,  when  death  came,  it  had  no  frost  to 
wither  a  leaf  in  the  chaplet  that  two  continents  had 'woven  for  his 
crown.  His  splendid  reputation  is  perfectly  secure.  It  rests  on 
such  virtues,  such  talents,  and  such  works  as  give  to  the  name  of 
Sims  a  mutual  pledge  of  immoetalitt. 

Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  for  a  little  personal  allusion  to  myself 
connected  with  Dr.  Sims. 

From  the  time  when  Dr.  Sims  located  in  Montgomery  up  to  the 
period  when  he  left  to  cast  his  lot  in  the  great  city  of  New  York, 
he  was  my  warm  and  devoted  friend  and  my  loved  companion.  He 
was  open  and  confiding  to  his  friends.  I  was  proud  of  his  confi- 
dence and  affection,  and  gave  him  in  return  the  full  measure  of  my 
own.  The  fact  which  I  am  about  to  refer  to  is  known  to  but  a  few 
only  of  the  older  members  of  this  body,  and  is  this :  A  few  weeks 
or  months  after  he  had  removed  from  Alabama  to  New  York,  a 
little  misunderstanding  grew  up  between  us,  which  resulted  in  our 
estrangement,  and  for  many  years  afterward  all  intercourse  between 
us  ceased.  This  has  always  been  to  me  one  of  the  bitterest  episodes 
of  my  life,  and  memory  never  recalls  the  event  without  a  feeling  of 
sadness  and  regret.  In  this  rupture  I  was  probably  more  to  blame 
than  he,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that,  had  not  our  paths  in  life  widely 
diverged  at  this  time,  the  heart-burning  which  our  separation  had 
caused  to  last  for  long  years  would  have  been  forgiven  and  for- 
gotten in  a  few  days. 

In  1868  I  made  a  visit  to  New  York,  and  while  I  was  there  he 
returned  from  a  prolonged  visit  to  Europe.  The  first  time  we  met 
was  at  the  opening  of  the  Bellevue  Hospital  Medical  College,  when 
Dr.  L.  A.  Say  re  was  to  deliver  the  introductory  address.     We  were 


440  THE  STOPwY  OF  MY  LITE. 

each,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  other,  invited  to  go  on  the  ros- 
trum, and  were  to  meet  in  the  faculty  room  to  join  the  professors  for 
that  purpose.  I  did  not  know  that  Dr.  Sims  was  in  the  room,  and  at 
the  time  I  entered  he  did  not  observe  me,  but  soon  I  felt  some  one 
clasp  me  around  the  neck  with  both  arms,  and  looking  I  observed 
my  long-lost  friend  Sims,  who  only  said,  "  Baldwin,  my  old  friend." 
"We  had  no  words  of  explanation,  but  from  that  moment  all  feeling 
of  resentment  left  my  heart,  and  again  I  loved  him  as  a  brother. 
Since  then  our  intercourse,  by  letter  and  otherwise,  has  been  con- 
stant, confidential,  and  free. 

I  look  back  now  upon  my  association  with  him  as  one  of  the 
providences  of  my  life,  and  his  death  as  one  of  the  bitterest  afflic- 
tions. 

Dr.  Sims's  Return  to  Montgomery  in  1877. 

It  is  known  that  the  first  advancement  of  Dr.  Sims  toward  the 
great  distinction  which  lie  afterward  attained  commenced  in  Mont- 
gomery, where  he  resided  for  a  period  of  twelve  years.  In  the  year 
1877,  after  an  absence  of  nearly  twenty-five  years,  he  returned  to 
his  old  home  to  make  a  visit  to  his  friends.  The  physicians  of  the 
place,  members  of  the  Medical  and  Surgical  Society,  in  anticipation 
of  his  arrival,  made  arrangements  to  receive  him  in  a  manner  be- 
coming his  rank  in  the  scientific  world.  The  proceedings  on  this 
occasion  were  published  in  the  "  Montgomery  Advertiser,"  but  a? 
this  paper  had  but  a  limited  circulation  outside  of  Alabama,  and  as 
the  proceedings  contained  some  interesting  historical  facts,  and  inci- 
dents of  a  pleasing  character,  as  related  partly  by  Dr.  Sims  himself, 
it  has  been  suggested  that  it  would  not  be  out  of  place  to  add  them 
to  this  memoir,  for  distribution  among  those  friends  who  never 
met  with  them  before,  as  forming  a  portion  of  this  brief  sketch  of 
his  life  W.  0.  B. 

[From  the  "  Montgomery  Advertiser."] 

Arrival  of  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims. —  The  Courtesies  extended  to  Mm 
while  in  Montgomery. 

De.  J.  Maeiox  Sims,  the  distinguished  Gynaecologist  and  founder 
of  the  "Woman's  Hospital  of  New  York,  arrived  in  our  city  on 
"Wednesday  evening,  and  was  met  at  the  depot  and  escorted  to  the 
residence  of  his  brother-in-law,  Dr.  B.  It.  Jones,  by  the  committee 


APPENDIX  III.  441 

of  four  from  the  Medical  and  Surgical  Society  of  Montgomery :  Drs. 
R.  F.  Michel,  W.  C.  Jackson,  J.  B.  Gaston,  and  James  Berney. 

On  entering  the  drawing-room,  Dr.  Michel  addressed  the  dis- 
tinguished visitor  as  follows : 

"As  chairman  of  the  reception  committee  of  the  Medical  and 
Surgical  Society  of  Montgomery,  I  come  with  these  gentlemen,  Dr. 
Sims,  to  welcome  you  to  the  city,  and  to  tender  most  earnestly  our 
heart-felt  congratulations  on  seeing  you  once  more  upon  the  soil  of 
your  former  scenes  of  labor  in  the  profession  you  have  so  much 
adorned  by  your  intelligence,  learning,  and  skill. 

"  To  tell  you  how  gratefully  we  have  watched  your  advance- 
ment to  the  very  first  rank  of  your  profession,  not  only  in  this 
country,  but  in  the  Old  World,  is  but  to  reiterate  what  you  so  well 
must  understand. 

"  The  members  of  our  society  (of  which  you  are  an  honorary 
member)  have  requested  us  to  solicit  your  presence  at  a  banquet, 
to  be  given  in  honor  of  your  arrival  among  us.  Please,  therefore, 
select  for  this  purpose  an  evening  most  suitable  to  your  conven- 
ience." 

Dr.  Sims,  with,  much  feeling,  replied  that,  on  visiting  his  old 
homestead,  in  South  Carolina,  he  was  taken  sick,  and  had  not,  up 
to  this  time,  entirely  recuperated  his  strength.  However,  after 
thanking  Dr.  Michel  for  the  kind  and  complimentary  manner  in 
which  the  invitation  from  the  Medical  and  Surgical  Society  of 
Montgomery  had  been  conveyed,  he  accepted  the  courtesy,  and  se- 
lected Tuesday  evening,  March  20th,  as  the  time  most  convenient 
for  him  to  meet  the  members  of  the  society. 

At  the  hour  appointed  last  evening,  the  beautiful  hall  was  well 
illuminated,  and  the  walls,  decorated  with  drawings  illustrating  dif- 
ferent important  problems  in  physiology,  gave  to  the  entire  room  a 
most  scientific  appearance. 

Dr.  Sims  was  presented  to  the  society  by  Dr.  Michel,  when  Dr. 
B.  R.  Jones,  president  of  the  society,  said : 

"  Dr.  Sims  :  Sir,  it  is  with  no  ordinary  feelings  of  pleasure  that 
I  welcome  you  to  the  hall  of  the  Medical  and  Surgical  Society  of 
Montgomery.  With  a  large  portion  of  its  members  you  are  per- 
sonally acquainted;  the  others  have  known  you  by  reputation. 
They  and  we  have  felt  proud  as  we  have  watched  your  advance- 
ment to  the  highest  honors  of  our  profession. 


442  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

"  Sir,  we  have  ever  claimed  you  as  one  of  us  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  Sydenham  Medical  Society  of  this  city,  of  which,  dur- 
ing its  existence  in  former  years,  you  were  always  one  of  its  most 
active  members,  and  in  the  organization  of  this  society  you  were 
elected  one  of  its  first  honorary  members.  But,  sir,  I  will  leave  it 
to  one,  and  the  only  one  left,  of  your  confreres  when  you  com- 
menced your  medical  career  in  this  city — Dr.  William  O.  Baldwin — 
to  address  you  in  expression  of  our  high  gratification  in  having  you 
again  with  as." 

Dr.  Baldwin,  who  had  been  selected  by  the  society  to  receive 
the  distinguished  savan,  as  he  had  been  many  years  ago  his  intimate 
associate  and  companion,  addressed  him  in  the  following  beautiful 
and  dignified  language : 

"  Dr.  Sims  :  As  the  representative  of  the  Medical  and  Surgical 
Society  of  Montgomery,  I  am  commissioned  to  tender  you  a  hearty 
welcome  to  our  hall,  and  to  the  courtesies  and  hospitalities  of  our 
association,  in  honor  of  the  distinguished  services  which  you  have 
rendered  to  the  science  of  medicine  and  surgery. 

"  I  feel  myself  incompetent,  sir,  to  express  to  you  in  fitting 
terms  the  just  pride  which  the  members  of  the  medical  profession 
of  our  State,  and  especially  those  of  the  Medical  and  Surgical  So- 
ciety of  Montgomery,  feel  in  the  renown  which  you  have  won  since 
you  left  our  borders.  Yet,  it  is  perhaps  proper  that  one  of  the 
few  remaining  of  the  brotherhood  with  wrhom  you  were  associated 
in  youth,  and  who  witnessed  the  promises  of  your  morning  life, 
should  be  selected  to  tender  this  testimonial  of  our  appreciation  of 
your  labors. 

"  After  an  absence  of  twenty-five  years,  you  are  again  in  the 
halls  of  the  first  medical  society  to  which  you  ever  belonged.  Sir, 
your  eyes  will  wander  in  vain  over  this  assembly  in  search  of  the 
faces  of  most  of  those  with  whom  you  were  accustomed  to  meet 
and  exchange  friendly  greetings  in  former  years,  and  you  will  rec- 
ognize but  few  w7hose  hands  you  grasped  as  you  departed  from  our 
midst  upon  the  great  mission  of  your  life.  I  am  pained  to  remind 
you  that  most  of  those  who  then  answered  to  roll-call  in  this  so- 
ciety have  passed  from  the  stage  of  this  world's  action,  and  now 
sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking. 

"  Sir,  we  claim  you  as  an  Alabamian.  South  Carolina  may  as- 
sert the  honor  of  having  rocked  the  cradle  of  your  infacy,  and  of 


APPENDIX  III.  443 

having  nurtured  your  boyhood,  but  it  was  here  in  Montgomery  that 
your  greatness  had  its  first  dawning.  It  was  here  that  your  genius 
found  its  earliest  expression,  and  it  was  here  it  first  took  its  flight 
and  asserted  its  claims  to  the  applause  of  strangers.  It  was  here 
that  your  sleepless  industry,  your  anxious  toil,  and  your  sublime 
fidelity  to  purpose,  carved  out  those  surgical  devices  and  appliances 
which  have  made  your  name  so  justly  famous,  and  it  was  here  that 
you  first  reduced  those  inventions  to  that  practical  utility  in  the 
treatment  of  the  surgical  diseases  peculiar  to  woman  which  has  not 
only  challenged  the  admiration  of  the  great  and  learned  in  your 
own  profession,  but  has  also  won  the  homage  of  the  crowned  heads 
of  Europe,  and  made  your  name  a  familiar  word  in  all  the  great 
capitals  o,f  the  civilized  world. 

"  It  is  surely  no  small  honor  or  trifling  subject  for  pride  and 
congratulation  to  the  State  which  claims  to  be  the  mother  of  your 
early  manhood,  to  see  that  the  enlightened  courts  of  the  Old 
World,  with  their  splendid  civilization,  have  recognized  the  vast 
resources  of  your  genius  and  the  importance  of  those  great  discov- 
eries which  have  justified  them  in  ranking  your  name  among  those 
of  the  foremost  men  of  the  age,  and  in  conferring  upon  you  honors, 
titles,  and  decorations  due  only  to  those  who,  by  their  achievements 
in  science,  literature,  art,  or  statesmanship,  have  accomplished  some 
grand  purpose  in  life,  or  conferred  some  lasting  benefit  on  mankind. 
It  is,  therefore,  eminently  proper,  upon  your  visit  to  the  home  of 
your  youth,  after  an  absence  of  so  many  years,  that  your  early  com- 
panions, associates,  and  friends  of  the  medical  profession  should  de- 
sire to  greet  you,  and  pay  you  that  homage  which  is  so  justly  your 
due.  We  wish,  sir,  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  success  of  your 
labors  and  the  usefulness  of  your  life,  as  well  as  upon  the  splendor 
of  the  fame  which  these  have  given  you. 

"Indeed,  sir,  to  those  who,  like  myself,  are  familiar  with  the 
difficulties  and  struggles  of  your  early  professional  career,  the  grand 
success  of  your  life  would  seem  almost  as  a  romance  were  it  not 
for  the  solid  and  lasting  benefits  it  has  conferred  upon  humanity. 

"Let  me  also  congratulate  you  upon  the  fine  preservation  of 
your  physical  and  mental  health.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  Heaven  has 
dealt  so  lightly  and  kindly  with  your  person  ;  yet  you  are  no  longer 
the  youth  with  whom,  though  somewhat  your  junior,  I  commenced 
my  professional  career.     Often,  in  the  solitude  of  my  own  quiet 


±U  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE, 

life,  I  have  called  to  mind  those  good  old  days  when  we  were 
young  together,  and  as  I  looked  through  the  vista  of  the  years  that 
have  since  passed,  and  remembered  your  hopeful  and  cheerful  en- 
thusiasm, and  your  ardent  devotion  to  your  profession,  which  often 
excited  me  to  greater  zeal  and  effort,  I  could  not  wonder  at  the 
heroism  you  have  displayed  on  other  fields,  or  the  brilliant  reputa- 
tion you  have  achieved." 

Then,  turning  to  the  members  of  the  society,  Dr.  Baldwin  said : 

"  The  association  of  things  always  affects  us.     A  page  or  a  leaf 

torn  from  the  book  of  memory,  which  we  have  carefully  stored 

away  in  youth,  becomes  most  precious  when  circumstances  arise 

which  bring  to  mind  the  most  trifling  fact  there  recorded. 

"  A  review  or  contemplation  of  the  life  of  one  with  whom  we 
ourselves  entered  the  world  derives  a  larger  interest  from  the  fact 
that  we  were  personally  observant  of  the  adventures,  enterprises, 
and  resources  which  contributed  to  its  success,  and  finds  additional 
entertainment  if  we  can  call  to  mind  the  livery  or  outward  appear- 
ance and  habit  with  which  it  rushed  into  the  world  to  work  out  the 
destinies  awaiting  it.  In  this  connection,  I  well  remember  a  friend 
with  whom  I  associated  much  about  a  third  of  a  century  ago,  when 
we  were  young  doctors  together — moved  by  the  same  sympathies, 
hopes,  and  ambitions,  and  striving  in  friendly  rivalry  for  a  prize  in 
the  same  noble  calling.  He  had  a  handsome  face,  with  a  benevo- 
lent, lively,  and  winning  expression  of  countenance,  dark  eyes, 
chestnut  hair,  figure  erect,  slender  and  boyish-looking,  mercurial  in 
his  disposition,  enthusiastic  in  his  pursuits,  unaffected  in  his  address, 
kind  in  his  deportment,  and  always  willing  to  do  or  say  something 
to  make  others  feel  pleasant  and  happy.  With  these  traits  he  pos- 
sessed more  personal  magnetism  than  any  man  I  ever  met.  It 
seems  to  me  I  can  see  him  at  this  very  moment  with  his  captivating, 
boyish  tricks,  and  his  other  engaging  levities,  which,  being  practiced 
only  on  proper  occasions,  never  failed  to  make  him  a  most  charm- 
ing companion.  One  of  the  pictures  of  his  daily  life  here,  now 
most  vivid  upon  my  memory,  is  that  one  wherein  I  have  seen  him 
seated  in  his  curiously  fashioned  buggy,  which  he  playfully  called 
his  '  Grecian  Galley,'  with  his  mettlesome  little  sorrel  mare  between 
the  shafts,  with  her  shining  red  coat,  her  gay  white  face,  and  her 
sinewy,  white  legs,  looking  as  proud  as  Juno.  I  think  he  called 
her  '  Kitty  Jumper.'     His  buggy  was,  indeed,  a  queer  and  notable- 


APPENDIX  III.  445 

looking  little  land  craft,  and,  by  the  way,  was  the  first  four-wheeled 
vehicle  ever  used  in  Montgomery  for  the  purpose  of  practicing 
medicine.  At  first  this  was  quite  a  displeasing  innovation  upon  the 
customs  of  our  staid  old  physicians,  as  previous  to  that  time  we 
had  all  been  going  on  horseback,  with  doctors'  saddle-bags,  or  in 
the  old-fashioned  two-wheeled  sulky,  and  considered  these  the 
proper  paraphernalia  of  a  physician  as  he  was  seen  going  his  daily 
rounds.  We  soon,  however,  found  this  innovation  of  the  young 
doctor  to  be  only  a  marked  improvement  upon  our  primitive  mode 
of  locomotion,  as  the  world  has  since  done  with  his  innovations 
upon  science,  except  that  we  could  never  come  quite  up  to  the  style 
and  fashion  of  this  particular  vehicle,  which  probably  never  had  a 
duplicate. 

'*  Thus  seated  in  his  buggy,  with  his  little  negro  boy  by  his  side, 
and  panoplied  with  a  medicine-box  and  case  of  surgical  instruments 
at  his  feet,  I  well  remember  the  picture  as  it  used  to  pass  rapidly  to 
and  fro  in  our  streets,  with  the  doctor's  whip  nervously  waving 
over  his  little  favorite,  as  if  he  did  not  intend  to  lose  any  practice 
through  the  lazy  habit  of  slow  driving. 

"  But  all  things  upon  this  earth  must  change.  Time,  with  its 
ceaseless  and  silent  throb,  at  length  dissolves  every  living  panorama, 
and  that  which  constituted  my  picture  has  not  escaped  this  all-per- 
vading law. 

"  The  buggy,  the  horse,  the  medicine-box,  and  perhaps  the  case 
of  surgical  instruments,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose,  have  long  since 
turned  to  dust  and  ashes — the  little  negro,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  has 
reached  the  dignified  position  provided  by  the  '  Fifteenth  Amend- 
ment ' — while  he  who  formed  the  central  figure  in  the  picture,  the 
young  doctor,  still  lives,  as  the  renowned  originator  and  founder  of 
one  of  the  noblest  charities  ever  erected  to  woman — the  Woman's 
Hospital  of  New  York.  Through  his  own  unaided  efforts  he  has 
achieved  results  which  have  throbbed  a  new  life  into  the  science  of 
gynaecology,  and  awakened  for  it  an  interest  and  influence  which 
have  extended  far  beyond  the  confines  of  his  own  country,  and  in- 
deed to  the  outer  borders  of  civilization.  For  original  invention 
and  operative  skill,  he  stands  in  his  special  department  with  but 
few  rivals  and  no  superior,  and  has  had  more  honors  and  distinc- 
tions conferred  upon  him  by  his  own  and  foreign  countries  than 
any  living  American  surgeon  ;    and  now,  at  the  age  of  sixty-four 


4±6  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

years,  I  will  venture  to  say,  has  as  much  metal  and  pluck  as  had  the 
little  spirited  mare  which  so  proudly  carried  him  in  the  days  of  his 
youth. 

"  I  have  ref erred  to  these  little  incidents  in  the  early  life  of  my 
old  friend,  chiefly  because  they  bring  pleasant  reminiscences  to  my 
own  mind,  and  partly  because  they  demonstrate  the  fact  that  the 
germs  of  great  thought  and  inventive  genius,  which  are  destined  to 
receive  the  admiration  of  the  world,  can  as  well  be  hid  under  a 
light,  happy,  careless,  and  sometimes  seemingly  thoughtless  exte- 
rior, as  in  the  recesses  of  that  grave  and  severe  mind  whose  out- 
ward look  is  that  of  stern  and  dignified  reserve.1' 

Then,  turning  again  to  Dr.  Sims,  he  said: 

"  Sir,  you  may  not  be  able  to  fill  up  the  blanks  in  the  picture  I 
have  drawn,  but  I  believe  there  are  some  within  the  hearing  of  my 
voice,  and  many  old  citizens  outside  of  the  hall,  who  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  that  respect. 

u  In  conclusion,  sir,  permit  me  to  say  that,  if  your  achievements 
within  the  the  domain  of  science,  or  if  your  exalted  worth  as  a 
benefactor  of  your  race,  should  hereafter  rear  the  monumental 
marble  to  perpetuate  your  name  as  a  great  physician,  still  those 
simple,  unaffected,  kind  and  genial  qualities  of  the  heart,  so  pecul- 
iarly your  own.  and  so  well  remembered  by  the  companions  of 
your  youth,  will  ever  with  them  constitute  the  charm  and  glory  of 
your  life  as  a  man. 

"  Let  me  again  welcome  you  to  our  city  and  to  the  arms  and 
hearts  of  your  old  friends,  and  express  the  hope  that  the  Provi- 
dence which  has  watched  over  and  prospered  all  your  efforts,  will 
still  spare  you  many  years  of  active,  useful  life,  and  shed  upon  your 
pathway  its  richest  bounties." 

In  response  to  Dr.  Baldwin's  remarks,  Dr.  Sims  said : 

"  Mr.  Peestdext  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Medical  and  Stjegi- 
cal  Society  of  Montgomery  :  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for 
this  kind  reception,  and  you,  sir,  for  the  kindly  manner  in  which 
you  have  been  pleased  to  speak  of  my  labors.  A  warm  personal 
friendship  of  nearly  forty  years  naturally  gives  a  roseate  hue  to 
your  recollection  of  by-gone  days.  It  is  seldom  given  to  any  man 
to  live  to  see  himself  fully  understood,  and  his  labors  fully  appre- 
ciated. On  this  score  I  certainly  have  no  cause  of  complaint,  for 
wherever  I  go,  whether  in  our  own  country  or  in  the  Old  World, 


APPENDIX  III.  447 

the  same  generous  recognition  awaits  me ;  but  not  so  demonstra- 
tively as  here  on  my  return  to  my  old  home,  the  scene  of  my  early 
struggles.  Sir,  if  I  were  a  conquering  hero,  or  a  great  statesman, 
you  could  not  vie  stronger  with  each  other  in  trying  to  do  me 
honor.  But  when  such  an  ovation  is  given  to  a  mere  doctor,  even 
if  he  is  in  deeds  a  philanthropist,  and  in  heart  a  patriot,  it  seems 
almost  paradoxical. 

"  Forty -two  years  ago  I  left  my  native  State — South  Carolina — 
to  seek  a  home  in  Alabama.  I  intended  going  to  Marengo  County, 
but  circumstances  conspired  to  arrest  my  progress. 

"  The  head  and  front  of  this  conspiracy  was  my  old  friend  Dr. 
Charles  S.  Lucas,  who  is  with  us  this  evening.  He  was  the  first 
friend  I  ever  made  in  Alabama,  and  has  remained  my  friend  ever 
since.  Many  little  incidents  have  occurred  in  the  last  few  days  to 
touch  my  heart — first,  the  visits  and  congratulations  of  my  medical 
friends ;  second,  of  my  lay  friends ;  third,  of  former  patients ; 
fourth,  of  my  former  slaves ;  and,  fifth,  when  my  octogenarian 
friend,  Dr.  Lucas,  heard  I  was  here,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
fifteen  miles  to  see  me.  We  met,  and  our  tears  were  mingled  for 
auld  lang  syne. 

"  Well,  I  remained  two  years  at  Mount  Meigs.  The  late  Dr. 
Boiling  A.  Blakey,  of  Macon  County,  then  offered  me  a  partner- 
ship, and,  accepting  it,  I  went  to  Macon  County,  and  lived  there 
three  years,  and,  in  1840,  I  came  to  Montgomery.  You  claim  me 
as  an  Alabamian,  and  rightly,  too,  for  all  that  I  am  I  owe  to  Mont- 
gomery and  to  the  people  of  Montgomery.  I  am  frank  to  acknowl- 
edge my  allegiance,  and  can  do  it  without  treason  to  my  native 
State.  When  I  came  among  you  I  was  young,  inexperienced,  in 
bad  health,  and  very  poor.  I  had  nothing  whatever  to  recommend 
me— nothing  but  honesty,  industry,  and  determination  to  succeed. 
You  received  me  kindly,  and  with  the  greatest  hospitality.  You 
were  to  me  good  Samaritans.  You  literally  fulfilled  toward  me  the 
command  of  our  Saviour— for  '  I  was  naked  and  ye  clothed  me ;  an 
hungered  and  ye  gave  me  to  eat ;  thirsty  and  ye  gave  me  drink ;  I 
was  sick  and  ye  visited  me,'  and  if  I  had  been  in  prison  I  am  sure 
you  would  have  liberated  me  as  soon  as  possible.  Your  Cromme- 
lins  and  your  Pollards  gave  me  houses  to  live  in  till  I  was  able  to 
procure  one  for  myself.  Your  merchants  gave  me  credit  for  food, 
and  raiment  for  my  family,  when  I  had  not  a  dollar  in  the  world  to 


448  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

pay  for  them.  And  no  young  man  was  ever  treated  more  kindly 
by  his  seniors  in  the  profession.  How,  then,  could  I  ever  be  other- 
wise than  grateful  and  loyal  to  those  who  were  my  friends  when  I 
most  needed  friends  ? 

"  I  have  long  felt  that  I  belonged  to  a  generation  that  is  past 
and  gone.  But  never  till  this  moment  have  I  realized  this  solemn 
fact  more  intensely.  In  looking  round  this  room  I  see  that  you, 
sir,  and  I  are  the  only  survivors  of  the  noble  band  of  brothers  who 
were  our  companions  in  1840. 

"  Sir,  as  I  said  before,  you  and  I  are  the  only  survivors  of  the 
men  of  1840.  You  are  many  years  my  junior,  and  I  hope  and  pray 
that  you  may  long  live  to  advance  the  science  you  have  done  so 
much  to  adorn,  and  to  exert  among  your  brethren  the  benign  influ- 
ence that  has  characterized  your  whole  life. 

"Again,  gentlemen,  let  me  thank  you  for  the  distinguished 
honor  you  have  conferred  upon  me." 

After  these  interesting  proceedings,  Dr.  Sims  was  escorted  by 
the  members  of  the  society,  in  procession,  to  the  mansion  of  Dr. 
Baldwin,  on  Perry  Street,  this  gentleman  having  kindly  tendered 
his  house  to  the  Medical  Society  as  the  best  place  for  the  banquet 
they  had  prepared  for  their  distinguished  guest. 

The  company  sat  down  to  the  table  about  ten  o'clock,  and  from 
then  on  until  a  late  hour  there  was  literally  "a  feast  of  reason  and 
a  flow  of  soul."  In  the  center  of  the  table  was  a  beautiful  stand  of 
flowers,  and  above  it  a  wreath,  in  the  center  of  which  the  word 
"  Sims "  was  most  artistically  arranged  in  flowers.  Many  toasts 
were  offered  and  appropriately  responded  to.  Altogether  the  even- 
ing was  one  long  to  be  remembered  by  all  who  were  present. 


APPENDIX   IV. 

Repoet  of  the  Memorial  Meeting  of  the  Medical  Society  of 
the  District  of  Columbia,  at  the  National  Capital,  in 
Honoe  of  Db.  J.  Marion  Sims,  held  Novembee  21,  1883. 

Dr.  A.  F.  A.  Kino,  chairman,  presided. 

Dr.  T.  E.  McAedle,  secretary. 

Dr.  King  stated  that  the  regular  order  of  business  would  be  sus- 
pended, in  order  to  devote  the  evening  to  hearing  the  report  of  the 
committee  appointed  last  week  to  prepare  resolutions  relative  to  the 
late  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims.  He  said  that  while  the  profession  through- 
out the  world  would  mourn  the  loss  and  honor  the  memory  of  so 
great  a  man,  he  was  glad  to  know  that  this  society  would  not  remain 
silent.  While  unprepared  to  attempt  any  adequate  eulogy  of  Dr. 
Sims,  he  regarded  him  as  an  extraordinary  genius,  whose  name  would 
remain  immortal  in  the  annals  of  medicine.  Among  the  greatest 
luminaries  that  adorn  the  professional  firmament,  Sims  appeared  as 
a  comet,  leaving  a  path  of  light  that  would  forever  reflect  luster 
upon  the  medical  art.  Reading  only  lately  the  old  treatment  of 
vaginal  fistula,  he  referred  to  the  great  boon  conferred  upon  the 
victims  of  this  malady  by  the  inventive  genius  of  Dr.  Sims.  In  con- 
clusion, Dr.  King  called  attention  to  portraits  of  the  deceased, 
kindly  loaned  by  Dr.  Busey,  and  then  called  upon  Dr.  Garnett  for 
report  of  committee. 

Resolutions  presented  by  Dr.  A.   Y.  P.  Garnett,  Chairman  of  the 

Committee. 

Whereas,  The  Medical  Society  of  the  District  of  Columbia  having 
heard  of  the  death  of  our  illustrious  countryman,  Dr.  J.  Marion 
Sims,  with  profound  sorrow,  and  being  impelled  by  feelings  of  the 
sincerest  sympathy  and  warmest  admiration  for  the  lamented  dead, 
desire  to  record  the  expression  of  their  sentiments  by  the  following 
resolutions : 


450  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LIFE. 

Resolved,  1.  That  the  sad  intelligence  of  the  sudden  and  unex- 
pected death  of  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  flashed  throughout  the  civilized 
world  with  electric  speed,  has  communicated  to  us  a  shock  well 
calculated  to  overcome  us  with  emotions  of  unaffected  sorrow  and 
abiding  regret. 

Resolved,  2.  That  as  Americans  we  feel  justly  proud  cf  the  brill- 
iant and  distinguished  career  of  this  eminent  physician,  whose 
original  and  valuable  achievements  in  the  domain  of  surgery,  as  well 
as  his  wisdom,  superior  skill  and  rare  tact  in  other  departments  of 
his  profession,  illustrated  a  genius  and  intelligence  seldom  vouch- 
safed to  mortal  man,  and  which  challenged  the  admiration  of  the 
scientific  world,  and  deserved  the  gratitude  of  suffering  humanity. 

Resolved,  3.  That  we  shall  ever  recall  the  man  as  one  who  com- 
bined an  unusual  and  attractive  beauty  of  manly  form,  with  a  refine- 
ment and  gentleness  of  manner,  and  a  genial  cordiality  of  deport- 
ment, betokening  the  "kind,  true  soul  within,',  which  seldom  failed 
to  win  and  fascinate  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  calling  forth 
the  grateful  love  of  woman,  and  the  admiring  friendship  of  man. 

Resolved,  -i.  That  among  the  galaxy  of -eminent  men  of  our  coun- 
try in  scientific  achievements,  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims  stands  forth  a 
grand,  central  light,  illuminating  the  world  of  science,  and  fully 
receiving  not  only  due  recognition  and  reverential  observation  from 
the  savans  of  Europe,  but  royal  homage  from  crowned  heads,  and 
grateful  tributes  from  titled  peers. 

Resolved,  5.  That  although  he  had  attained  the  period  allotted 
to  man,  of  three  score  years  and  ten,  we  deplore  his  loss,  because 
we  believe  that  the  light  of  his  genius  had  not  grown  dim  with 
years,  but  that  to  him  we  might  still  look  for  future  discoveries  of 
hidden  truth  in  the  yet  unexplored  regions  of  medical  science,  which 
can  only  be  penetrated  and  made  manifest  by  a  genius  like  that  of 
Sims. 

Resolved,  6.  That  a  copy  of  the  foregoing  resolutions  be  sent  to 
the  family  of  the  deceased  as  a  respectful  offering  of  our  sincere 
sympathy  and  condolence. 

Alexander  Y.  P.  Gaexett,  M.  D. 
J.  M.  Toxee.  M.  D. 
Sameel  0.  Beset.  M.  D. 
William  G.  Palmee.  M.  D. 
W.  W.  Johxstox,  M.  D. 


APPENDIX  IV.  451 


Remarks  of  Dr.  A.  T.  P.  Garnett. 

In  presenting  these  resolutions,  Mr.  President,  which  are  intended 
to  express  the  sentiments  of  this  body,  I  can  not  refrain,  sir,  from 
adding  a  few  words  on  behalf  of  myself  individually.  I  enjoyed  the 
honor  of  the  acquaintance  and  friendship  of  Dr.  Sims  during  the 
last  five  or  six  years  of  his  life,  and  therefore  claim  the  privilege  of 
paying  a  tribute  to  this  noble  man  as  I  knew  and  apprehended  him. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  present  even  a  brief  biography  of  the  illus- 
trious dead,  nor  is  it  my  purpose  to  review  the  numerous  and  brill- 
iant achievements  which  illustrated  his  rare  powers  and  adorned 
his  professional  career. 

The  portrayal  of  these  I  leave  to  others  who  are  more  familiar 
with  the  history  of  his  whole  life,  and  who  have  doubtless  rendered 
themselves  better  competent  than  I  am  to  descant  upon  these 
themes. 

Viewed  from  a  social  standpoint  alone,  we  find  him  as  much 
appreciated  in  the  salons  of  European  society,  where  his  merits 
made  him  the  petted  favorite  and  envied  recipient  of  royal  honors, 
as  he  was  the  distinguished  cynosure  in  the  arena  of  professional 
effort.  Almost  unequaled  in  polished  refinement  and  gentle  fascina- 
tion of  manner,  no  one  could  be  brought  within  the  sphere  of  his 
magnetic  iufluence  without  feeling  the  attraction  and  acknowledging 
the  presence  of  an  extraordinary  being. 

From  the  first  moment  of  my  acquaintance  with  this  singularly 
gifted  man,  I  felt  attracted  to  him  by  a  mysterious  and  irresistible 
charm,  never  before  experienced  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  and, 
almost  unconsciously  to  myself,  I  conceived  from  that  moment  an 
interest  which  was  destined  in  a  short  time  to  develop  into  lasting 
sentiments  of  friendship. 

It  was  evidently  through  his  superlative  qualities  of  character 
and  heart,  and  rare  grace  of  manner,  combined  with  his  irresistible 
personal  presence,  that  he  won  the  exceptional  popularity  he  every- 
where enjoyed  amongst  men  and  women,  not  only  in  the  higher  cir- 
cles of  society,  but  in  the  humble  walks  of  life. 

A  prominent  and  beautiful  feature  of  his  character  was  the  kind 
and  sympathetic  interest  he  always  manifested  in  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  his  profession.  Were  I  familiar  with  the  private  history  of 
his  life  I  could  doubtless  there  find  many  incidents  illustrating  this 


452  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

admirable  trait.  In  view  of  the  circumstances  which  call  forth  my 
remarks,  it  can  not  be  deemed  egotism  for  me  to  give  an  instance  of 
his  kind  thoughtfalness  which  considered  others,  even  amidst  press- 
ing cares  and  outside  duties,  because  it  came  home  to  myself  during 
his  recent  visit  to  this  city. 

Though  in  Washington  for  only  a  few  days,  he  did  me  the  honor 
to  call  several  times  at  my  office,  and  conversed  fully  and  freely  of 
his  plans  and  purposes  in  regard  to  his  contemplated  residence  in 
this  city ;  yet  he  did  not  forget  to  make  especial  inquiries  after  the 
health  of  my  son,  with  whom  he  was  personally  acquainted,  and  to 
evince  great  interest  in  his  professional  plans.  I  can  see  now  the 
earnest  and  interested  expression  of  face  with  which  he  turned  to 
me  and  said,  when  about  leaving:  "  Be  sure  to  make  your  boy  come 
to  see  me ;  write  and  tell  him  to  keep  out  of  Charity  Hospital,  and 
send  him  to  me."  This  interest  was  manifested  toward  the  young 
doctor,  not  merely  to  the  son  of  his  friend. 

Apart  from  the  many  personal  associations  which  bound  me  to 
Dr.  Sims,  I  may  be  pardoned,  I  trust,  for  referring  to  one  incident 
of  his  life,  while  in  Europe  during  the  late  civil  war  in  this  country, 
which  not  only  enhances  the  feeling  of  respect  that  I  entertain  for 
him  now  that  he  is  dead,  but  served  also  as  a  bond  of  union  between 
us  during  his  life : 

I  allude,  Mr.  President,  to  the  efforts  made  by  the  United  States 
Representative  at  the  Court  of  Belgium  to  induce  King  Leopold  to 
refrain  from  bestowing  the  honor  of  his  order  upon  Dr.  Sims,  because 
he  sympathized  with  the  people  of  his  own  section  in  their  struggle 
for  self-government.  All  that  official  influence,  inspired  by  political 
and  sectional  malevolence,  could  accomplish  was  exerted  against 
him,  on  the  sole  plea  that  he  was  loyal  in  heart  to  the  South ;  and 
this  sinister  influence  so  far  prevailed  that  the  order  of  decoration 
(intended  for  merit  and  distinguished  ability,  that  should  have  re- 
ceived just  recognition  from  even  a  national  foe)  was  actually  de- 
ferred for  a  time. 

I  can  not  repress,  sir,  the  pride  I  feel  that  this  great  and  good 
man  was  a  native  of  the  South,  and  that  I  can  stand  here  to-night 
and  claim  for  that  section  of  this  Union,  although  remote  from  the 
great  centers  of  medical  learning  and  the  best  opportunities  of  clini- 
cal observation  and  experimentation,  the  proud  honor  of  having  given 
to  the  profession  the  bold  and  intrepid  pioneer  in  the  art  of  gynas- 


APPENDIX  IV.  453 

cology,  in  the  person  of  McDowell,  of  Kentucky,  as  well  as  that 
genius,  skill  and  perseverance  which  developed  it  into  a  science,  in 
the  person  of  J.  Marion  Sims,  of  South  Carolina. 

Biography  read  by  Dr.  J.  M,  Toner. 

James  Marion  Sims,  M.  D.,  was  born  in  Lancaster  District,  South 
Carolina,  January  25, 1813,  and  died  suddenly  of  heart  disease  at  his 
residence,  267  Madison  Avenue,  New  York,  November  1 3, 1883.  He 
was  a  descendant  of  the  great  Scottish  chieftain,  Rob  Roy  MacGregor. 
His  birth-place  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  dividing  line  between  North 
and  South  Carolina,  near  where  President  Andrew,  Jackson  first 
breathed  life.  Having  received  a  good  preparatory  education  at  the 
common  school  and  from  private  tutors,  he  also  became  well  grounded 
in  the  classics  and  acquired  a  knowledge  of  French,  which  he  spoke 
and  wrote  with  readiness.  At  a  suitable  age  he  entered  South  Caro- 
lina College,  and  graduated  in  letters  in  1832.  His  medical  studies 
were  pursued  first  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  then  in  Philadel- 
phia, Pennsylvania,  where  he  received  the  degree  of  M.  D.  from  the 
Jefferson  Medical  College  in  1835.  The  following  year  he  began 
practice  near  Montgomery,  Alabama,  and  a  year  later  he  removed 
to  that  city,  where  he  acquired  a  large  and  lucrative  business.  In 
1845  he  communicated  to  the  profession  some  new  views  on  "Tris- 
mus Nascentium,"  which  he  published  in  the  "American  Journal  of 
Medical  Science,"  in  1846,  and  a  second  paper  on  the  same  subject 
in  1848.  In  following  the  professional  labors  and  life  of  Dr.  Sims 
it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  he  was  scholarly  and  well-read  in 
his  profession,  a  good  general  practitioner,  a  careful  diagnostician, 
and  a  fearless  and  dextrous  surgical  operator,  before  he  developed 
the  specialty  of  gynaecology.  Although  this  is  well  known  to  the 
older  members  of  the  profession,  it  is  fully  manifested  by  the  sub- 
jects which  early  engaged  his  attention  as  an  author.  His  first  five 
contributions  to  medical  literature  were  upon  diseases  and  operations 
of  interest  to  the  general  practitioner  and  surgeon.  It  was  not  until 
1852  that  he  published  any  account  of  his  discoveries  and  operations, 
which  he  followed  with  such  eminent  success,  and  which  justly 
brought  him  such  distinguished  honors. 

In  1845  his  attention  was  especially  called  to  the  subject  of  vesico- 
vaginal fistula,  which  previous  to  that  time  had  been  much  neglected 


454  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

by  surgeons,  or  deemed  incurable.  Dr.  Sims  conceived  the  idea  of 
relieving  its  victims  by  a  surgical  operation.  To  this  end  Dr.  Sims 
established  at  Montgomery  a  private  hospital,  into  which  he  received 
patients  suffering  from  this  accident,  and  after  many  efforts  and 
modified  operations  he,  in  1849,  fully  established  the  fact  to  the  pro- 
fession that  his  operation  was  a  success.  The  devotion  and  earnest- 
ness with  which  he  pursued  this  branch  of  surgery  led  to  the  in- 
vention of  a  number  of  new  and  important  instruments  and  devices 
to  accomplish  the  results  desired,  some  of  which  bear  his  name. 
Among  them  is  "  Sims's  speculum,"  and  the  use  of  "  the  silver  wire 
suture,"  which,  instead  of  the  silk  thread,  was  of  great  value.  Sub- 
sequently he  used  the  silver  wire  suture  in  all  operations  where 
sutures  were  required.  Owing  to  unceasing  toil  his  health  failed  in 
1850,  and  in  1851,  while  confined  to  his  room  from  a  severe  and  pro- 
tracted indisposition,  which  he  and  his  friends  feared  would  termi- 
nate in  death,  he  wrote  his  famous  paper  on  "  Sims's  Operation  for 
Vesico- Vaginal  Fistula,"  which  was  published  in  the  "American 
Journal  of  Medical  Science  "  for  January,  1852. 

The  good  results  which  had  been  obtained  in  his  hospital  for  the 
especial  treatment  of  diseases  and  accidents  to  which  women  are 
liable,  reports  of  which  were,  from  time  to  time,  published  in  the 
medical  journals,  awakened  in  the  profession  much  interest,  and 
patients  were  sent  to  consult  Dr.  Sims  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 

A  change  of  climate,  on  account  of  his  health,  as  well  as  to  find, 
a  larger  field  for  professional  work,  led  him  to  remove  to  the  City 
of  New  York  in  1853. 

Although  his  health  was  not  fully  restored,  he,  with  the  encour- 
agement of  some  of  the  leading  physicians,  within  a  year  commenced 
the  founding  of  a  woman's  hospital  in  that  city,  which  through  his 
energy,  efficiency,  and  surgical  skill,  and  under  the  patronage  of 
some  forty  of  the  first  ladies  of  New  York,  became,  in  1855,  an 
established  fact.  To  bring  the  subject  directly  before  the  profession 
of  the  City  of  New  York,  Dr.  Sims  determined  to  deliver  an  address 
to  the  profession  and  the  public  on  the  necessity  of  a  hospital  for 
women.  The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  call  which  was  published  in 
the  leading  city  papers : 

"  Lecture  on  the  Necessity  of  Organizing  a  Great  Hospital  in  this 
City  for  the  Diseases  Peculiar  to  Females. — The  undersigned  will  de- 
liver a  lecture  on  this  subject  at  the  Stuyvesant  Institute,  No.  659 


APPENDIX  IV.  455 

Broadway,  on  Thursday  evening,  the  18th  inst.,  at  8  o'clock.  The 
medical  profession  and  the  public  are  respectfully  invited  to  attend. 
J.  Maeion  Sims,  M.  D.,  77  Madison  Avenue." — From  the  New  York 
"  Tribune,"  May  17,  1854. 

As  this  was  a  most  important  juncture  in  the  professional  career 
of  Dr.  Sims,  we  will  be  pardoned  for  referring  to  the  effect  of  the 
lecture,  as  he  chose  to  call  it,  upon  the  profession  and  the  public. 
The  New  York  "Post,"  and  also  the  New  York  "Times,"  on  the 
morning  of  the  19th,  each  had  brief  notices  of  the  meeting,  cautious- 
ly commending  its  objects : 

The  following  is  from  the  New  York  "  Times  "  of  May  19, 1854 : 
"Dr.  Sims  on  a  Hospital  for  Females. — In  spite  of  a  heavy  shower 
that  fell  just  at  the  hour  when  the  meeting  was  announced  to  open, 
the  lecture-room  of  the  Stuyvesant  Institute  was  nearly  filled  last 
evening  with  persons  who  were  present  to  hear  Dr.  Sims  on  the 
reasons  why  a  hospital  should  be  established  in  this  city  for  the 
treatment  of  the  diseases  peculiar  to  females.  A  large  proportion 
of  those  present  were  physicians.  Some  of  the  *  solid  men '  and  a 
number  of  ladies  were  in  attendance,  too.  The  doctor  spoke  with 
great  earnestness,  and  directly  to  the  point,  at  times  becoming  elo- 
quent with  his  subject. 

"  He  aimed,  by  the  history  of  a  Southern  institution  with  which 
he  had  been  connected,  and  its  results,  to  show  how  much  might  be 
done  in  this  city,  and  how  great  was  our  need.  The  attention  was 
undiminished  to  the  close,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  right  impres- 
sion had  been  made. 

"  On  sitting  down,  Dr.  Griscom,  of  the  New  York  Hospital,  after 
a  few  complimentary  remarks,  moved  that  those  present  organize 
themselves  into  a  business  meeting,  and  nominated  Dr.  Edward 
Delafield  to  the  chair,  and  Dr.  Edward  Beadle  as  secretary,  which 
was  seconded  by  Dr.  Gardner,  and  which  motion  was  unanimously 
confirmed. 

"  Dr.  Griscom,  in  the  course  of  his  remarks,  said  that  the  inter- 
ests of  humanity  united  in  demanding  such  a  hospital.  He  re- 
marked that  a  large  percentage  of  the  cases  of  insanity  in  our  insane 
asylums  is  due  to  the  neglected  diseases  of  females. 

"  A  resolution  of  thanks  to  Dr.  Sims  was  unanimously  passed, 
and  another  resolution  approving  of  the  project,  and  that  a-com- 
mittee  of  ten  persons — five  physicians  and  five  laymen — to  de- 


456  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

vise  ways  and  means  to  accomplish  it  be  appointed,  was  also 
passed. 

"  The  committee  is  to  be  named  by  the  president,  and  hereafter 
announced  through  the  press.  Meanwhile  the  project  will  be  dis- 
cussed by  the  profession,  and  we  trust  not  ineffectually.  The  labor 
of  establishing  a  new  hospital  in  this  city  is  not  a  trifling  one.  But 
there  is  a  demand  for  more  hospital  room  for  these  special  diseases 
— a  most  urgent  demand.  We  trust  that  the  benevolent  will  turn 
their  attention  this  way." 

The  project  and  the  address  is  commented  upon  in  "  The  Ameri- 
can Medical  Monthly  "  for  June,  1854,  page  479,  in  the  following 
language :  "  On  the  evening  of  the  18th  ult.,  1854,  a  number  of  pro- 
fessional men  and  others,  about  two  hundred,  among  whom  were 
conspicuous  five  ladies,  attended  the  Stuyvesant  Institute  by  invita- 
tion, to  hear  Dr.  Sims's  argument  in  favor  of  a  hospital  for  the  re- 
ception and  treatment  of  diseases  peculiar  to  women. 

"  The  lecturer  traced  the  history  of  his  operation  for  vesico- vagi- 
nal fistula,  and  related  in  a  pleasing  and  effective  manner  the  vari- 
ous steps  by  which  he  had  attained  progressively  to  the  present  ex- 
cellence in  the  performance  of  this  great  achievement  in  curative 
surgery. 

''  It  wa3  a  striking  narrative.  The  obstacles  and  difficulties  he 
encountered  and  from  every  quarter,  the  failures  and  disappoint- 
ments which  mortified  but  did  not  subdue  him,  the  discouragements 
of  friends  and  the  sacrifice  of  time,  money,  bodily  and  mental  labor, 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  defeat  a  less  resolute  will,  to  try  a 
faith  not  sustained  by  the  soundness  of  the  principles  which  directed 
him,  and  the  sufficiency  of  the  science  on  whose  altar  he  was  labor- 
ing to  place  the  trophy  of  perserverance,  ingenuity,  and  devotion. 

"At  the  conclusion  of  the  lecture,  Dr.  Delafield  was  appointed 
chairman  of  the  meeting,  and  Dr.  Beadle  secretary,  when  two  reso- 
lutions were  unanimously  passed,  one  expressive  of  accordance  with 
the  views  propounded  by  the  lecturer,  the  other  appointing  a  com- 
mittee often,  comprised  of  five  medical  men  and  five  lay  members, 
to  devise  a  plan  for  accomplishing  so  desirable  an  object  as  the  es- 
tablishment of  the  institution  then  so  eloquently  advocated." 

The  committee  of  ways  and  means  was  composed  of  Drs.  J.  "W. 
Francis,  Valentine  Mott,  Alexander  H.  Stevens,  Horace  Green,  J. 
Marion  Sims,  Peter  Cooper,  Hon.  Erastus  C.  Benedict.    An  appro- 


APPENDIX  IV.  457 

priation  of  $2,500  was  obtained  from  the  City  Council,  to  which  was 
added  funds  raised  by  the  ladies,  a  house  was  rented  for  temporary 
use,  and  the  hospital  opened  in  May,  1855. 

The  New  York  "Medical  Times"  for  June,  1855,  page  368,  has 
the  following:  '*  Woman's  Hospital. — A  building  on  Madison  Ave- 
nue, No.  83,  having  been  rented  for  the  purpose  of  this  institution, 
it  was  formally  opened  on  the  2d  of  June,  1855,  being  the  first  hos- 
pital of  the  kind  in  New  York.  Dr.  J.  W.  Francis,  one  of  the  con- 
sulting physicians,  presided,  and  delivered  an  appropriate  address 
commendatory  of  the  object.  The  other  prominent  speakers  on 
this  occasion  were  Drs.  E.  H.  Dixon  (of  the  'Scalpel '),  D.  M.  Eeese, 
and  Horace  Green.  There  were  at  the  time  nineteen  patients  under 
treatment." 

Dr.  Sims  had  been  elected  attending  surgeon,  and  Drs.  Mott, 
Stevens,  Francis,  Delafield,  and  Green,  a  consulting  board.  The  in- 
stitution was  patronized  by  patients  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 
The  success  attained  by  the  treatment  given,  and  the  important 
operations  performed  in  it,  speedily  demonstrated  its  usefulness  and 
the  need  for  an  enlarged  establishment. 

During  the  sessions  of  the  New  York  Legislature  of  1857-1858, 
Dr.  Sims,  aided  by  influential  gentlemen  of  New  York  City,  obtained 
a  charter  for  "  The  Woman's  Hospital  for  the  State  of  New  York," 
and  received  from  the  city  a  grant  of  a  block  or  square  of  some 
80,000  feet  of  ground,  and  an  appropriation  of  $10,000"to  assist  in 
erecting  suitable  buildings  for  hospital  purposes  near  the  Central 
Park,  opposite  Columbia  College. 

Dr.  Sims  made  a  careful  study  of  hospital  designs  and  plans,  and 
finally  recommended  the  pavilion  system  as  the  best  suited  to  the 
purpose. 

The  first  pavilion,  with  a  capacity  of  seventy  beds,  was  completed 
and  occupied  in  1866.  Largely  through  Dr.  Sims's  personal  efforts, 
and  the  merits  of  the  work  done  in  the  hospital,  aid  was  at  differ- 
ent times  obtained  from  the  State  to  the  amount  of  $60,000  for  the 
institution.  A  second  pavilion  was  opened  in  1876,  and  the  com- 
bined capacity  of  the  two  pavilions  is  260  beds.  This  hospital  is  at 
once  a  grand  monument  to  the  genius  of  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims,  and  to 
the  humanity  and  medical  progress  of  the  age.  In  1861  Dr.  Sims 
first  visited  Europe,  chiefly  to  study  hospital  construction  and  its 
sanitary  requirements.  His  arrival  was  everywhere  heralded  by 
20 


458  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

encomiums  of  praise  for  his  valuable  discoveries  and  surgical  skill, 
and  he  received  from  the  profession  in  all  the  large  cities  and  hospi- 
tals of  Europe  such  a  welcome  as  has  rarely  or  never  been  given  to 
a  medical  man.  He  was  pressed  to  operate  in  many  of  the  leading 
hospitals,  and  by  surgeons  who  themselves  enjoyed  world-wide  repu- 
tations. 

Dublin,  London,  Paris,  and  Brussels  were  each  in  turn  the  thea- 
tre of  his  surgical  triumphs.  He  operated  in  nine  different  hospitals 
in  London,  and  perhaps  a  greater  number  in  Paris.  Hi3  successes 
were  so  noted  and  brilliant  that  he  speedily  received  decorations 
from  the  Governments  of  France,  Italy,  Germany,  Spain,  Portugal, 
and  Belgium  as  a  public  benefactor.  Indeed,  he  received  two  med- 
als from  the  Government  of  Italy. 

From  France  he  received  the  Order  of  the  Knights  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor,  from  Belgium  the  Order  of  Leopold  I,  and  from  Ger- 
many the  Iron  Cross. 

Having  returned  to  America  in  1862,  after  a  brief  stay  at  his 
home,  he  revisited  Europe,  to  place  his  children  at  school,  but  with 
the  intention  of  returning  to  his  practice  in  New  York,  which  had 
grown  to  be  large,  responsible,  and  remunerative.  But  as  soon  as  it 
was  known  that  Dr.  Sims  was  again  in  Paris,  patients  flocked  to 
him  in  such  numbers  from  all  parts  of  the  world  as  to  fully  oc- 
cupy his  time,  and  rendered  it  next  to  impossible  for  him  to  refuse 
treatment,  and  it  was  not  till  1868  that  he  again  returned  to  New 
York  and  resumed  his  practice,  his  family  remaining  in  London. 

At  the  opening  of  the  Franco-Prussian  war  in  1870,  Dr.  Sims 
happened  to  be  in  Paris,  and  was  the  prime  mover  in  organizing 
what  is  known  in  history  as  the  Anglo-American  Ambulance  Corps, 
and  was  made  its  surgeon-in-chief.  The  organization  did  good  ser- 
vice at  and  after  the  battle  of  Sedan,  which  led  to  the  downfall  of 
Napoleon  III.  He  was  placed  in  charge  of  Mayory  Hospital,  with 
over  four  hundred  beds,  and  served  faithfully  and  efficiently  for  a 
month,  when  he  resigned  the  position  and  returned  to  Paris.  He 
was  one  of  the  escorts  who  attended  Marshal  McMahon  from  the 
field  when  wounded  by  a  shell. 

The  incident  was  gracefully  remembered  and  acknowledged  by 
the  Marshal,  who  gave  him  one  thousand  francs  to  purchase  delica- 
cies for  those  confined  to  the  hospital.  A  report  of  the  services  and 
operations  of  the  Anglo-American  Ambulance  Corps  was  made  by 


APPENDIX  IV.  459 

Dr.  Sims's  first  assistant,   William   McCormack,   now  Sir  William 
McCormack,  and  was  published  in  London  in  1871. 

I  am  unable  at  this  time  to  give  a  full  list  of  Dr.  Sims's  contri- 
butions to  journalistic  medical  literature.  Whenever  he  wrote  he 
had  something  to  say  which  the  profession  was  ready  and  anxious 
to  hear  from  so  original  and  able  an  exponent  of  the  art  and  prin- 
ciples of  medicine.  The  following  is  presented  as  an  approximate 
list  of  Dr.  Sims's  publications.  Most  of  his  writings  have  been  trans- 
lated and  published  in  the  French,  German  and  Italian  languages  : 

"An  Essay  on  the  Pathology  and  Treatment  of  Trismus  Nascentium,  or 
Lockjaw  of  Infants."  Svo,  pp.  21.  Philadelphia :  Lea  &  Blanchard.  1864. 
From  Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  April,  1846,  Vol.  II,  p.  363. 

"  Eemoval  of  the  Superior  Maxilla  for  a  Tumor  of  the  Antrum.  Apparent 
Cure.  Eeturn  of  the  Disease.  Second  Operation.  Sequel."  Illustrated  by 
woodcuts.     Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  April,  1847. 

"  Osteo-Sarcoma  of  the  Lower  Jaw.  Eemoval  of  the  Body  of  the  Bone 
without  External  Mutilation." — Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  October,  1847. 

*'  Further  Observations  on  Trismus  Nascentium,  with  Cases  illustrating  its 
Etiology  and  Treatment." — Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  July,  1848,  pp.  59  to  78. 

"  Further  Observations  on  Trismus  Nascentium,  with  Cases  illustrating  its 
Etiology  and  Treatment." — Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  October,  1848,  pp.  354  to 
366. 

"On  the  Treatment  of  Vesicovaginal  Fistula."  With  Illustrations. — 
Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  January,  1852. 

"  On  the  Treatment  of  Vesico- Vaginal  Fistula."  A  reprint.  8vo,  pp.  28. 
New  York.     1853. 

"  On  the  Treatment  of  Vesico- Vaginal  Fistula."  By  J.  Marion  Sims,  of 
New  York,  late  of  Montgomery,  Ala.  Philadelphia:  Blanchard  &  Lea. 
1853.  Pp.  28.— A  review  in  the  New  York  Med.  Times,  December,  1853,  p. 
104. 

"  Two  Cases  of  Vesico- Vaginal  Fistula,  cured  by  J.  Marion  Sims,  of  New 
York,  late  of  Montgomery,  Ala."— New  York  Med.  Gaz.,  January,  1854,  p.  1, 
with  an  illustration. 

"  A  case  of  Vesico- Vaginal  Fistula,  with  the  Os  Uteri  closed  up  in  the 
Bladder ;  cured  by  J.  Marion  Sims  of  New  York,  late  of  Montgomery,  Ala., 
with  an  Illustration  Exhibiting  the  Parts."— Amer.  Med.  Monthly,  February, 
1854. 

"A  Case  of  Vesico-Vaginal  Fistula  resisting  the  Actual  Cautery  for  more 
than  Seven  Years ;  Cured  in  Thirteen  Days  by  the  Author's  Process."— New 
York  Med.  Times,  May,  1854. 

"  Vesico-Vaginal  Fistula  of  Seven  Years'  Duration ;  Cured  in  Thirteen 
Days  by  Sims's  Method."— From  New  York  Med.Tvmes,  1854;  Amer.  Jour. 
Med.  Sc,  July,  1854. 


460  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LITE. 

••  A  New  Uterine  Elevator,  with.  Illustration." — Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  p. 
U  .    .'anuary,  1858. 

••  A  Be  view  of  Silver  Sutures  in  Surgery.  An  Anniversary  Discourse  be- 
fore the  New  York  Academy  of  Medicine."  Pp.  20.  Philadelphia.  1858. 
Eeprinted  from  Xorth  Amer.  Med.  db  CTiir.  Ret.,  July,  1: 7 :. 

"  Silver  Sutures  in  Surgery.  An  Anniversary  Address  before  the  New 
York  Academy  of  Medicine."  November  IS.  1857.  8vo,  pp.  79.  New  York: 
-    Sl  «St  W.  Wood.     1858. 

"  On  the  Poisonous  Properties  of  Quinia,  with  Eemarks  by  William  0. 
Baldwin."     8vo.     New  York,  1861.— From  Med.  Gaz.,  New  York,  1861. 

M  Amputation  of  the  Cervix  Uteri."  8vo,  pp.  16.  New  York :  Horn  Book 
and  Job  Printing  Office,  1861. — Extract  from  "Transactions  of  New  York 
State  Medical  Society,  1861." 

•■  Vaginismus."  A  paper  referred  to  in  the  "Transactions  of  the  Ob- 
stetrical Society  of  London,  1862." — New  York  Med.  Jour.,  July,  18*32. 

"  Influence  of  Uterine  Displacements  upon  the  Sterile  Condition."  Bead 
before  the  British  Medical  Association,  1865. — Med.  Timet  and  Gaz.,  August 
19,  1865;  Amer.  Jour,  of  Med.  Sc,  October,  1865. 

"Chronic  Inversion  of  the  Uterus."  Bead  before  the  Obstetrical  Society 
of  London,  October  ^ .  1 ;   :. — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  November  18,  1865. 

u  Listers  Antiseptic  Methods  in  Ovariotomy."  New  York  Med.  Bee,  Oc- 
tober 9.  1865. 

"  Procedentia  Uteri."  Bead  before  the  Obstetrical  Society  of  London,  De- 
cember 16,  1865. — Lancet,  December  16,  1865;  Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  April, 
1366,  p.  55L 

"  Clinical  Notes  on  Uterine  Surgery,  with  Special  Beferences  to  the  Man- 
angement  of  the  Sterile  Condition."     8vo,  pp.  401.    New  York :  Wood  &  Co. 

"  Ovariotomy.  Pedicle  Secured  by  Silver  Wire,  after  the  Failure  of  the 
steal  Cautery  to  Arrest  Haemorrhage.  Safe  Cure." — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  July 
19,  1S67;  Amer.  Med.  Jour.  Sc,  April.  1867. 

"  On  the  Nitrous  Oxide  Gas  as  an  Anaesthetic ;  with  a  Note  by  J.  Thierry- 
Mieg.*'—  Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  April  11,  ] : 

"  Illustrations  of  the  Value  of  the  Microscope  in  the  Treatment  of  the  Sterile 
Condition."  Bead  before  the  Midwifery  Section  of  the  British  Medical  Asso- 
ciation, August,  1S63.— Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  October  31, 1368,  p.  469,  concluded 
on  p.  i  1 

"  The  Woman's  Hospital  Anniversary."     Address  delivered  at  the  Wom- 

a  Hospital,  New  York,  November  I".  1;::  Svo,  pp.  11.  New  York: 
Baker  &  Godwin,  printers.     1868. 

"  On  the  Microscope  as  an  Aid  in  the  Diagnosis  and  Treatment  of  Ste- 
rility." 8vo,  pp.  25.  New  York :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.  1869.  Bead  before 
the  New  York  County  Medical  Society,  February  7,  1863.— From  New  York 
Med.  Jour..  January,  1 ; 

"Ovariotomy.  Pedicle  secured  by  Silver  Wire.  Ligature.  Cure." — Brit. 
MA  Jour.,  April  16,  1869. 


APPENDIX  IV.  461 

"  Ou  Ovariotomy."  8vo,  pp.  85.  New  York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.  1873. 
— From  New  York  Med.  Jour.,  December,  1872,  and  April,  1873. 

"  On  Intra-Uterine  Fibroids,  with  Illustrations  of  Methods,  etc."  8vo,  pp. 
27.  New  York :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.  1874.  Eeprinted  from  the  New  York 
Med.  Jour.,  April,  1874. 

"  On  N&aton's  Method  of  Bcsuscitation  from  Chloroform.  Narcosis." 
Kead  before  the  Surgical  Section  at  the  Annual  Meeting  of  the  British  Medical 
Association,  in  Norwich,  1874. — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  August  22, 1874. 

"  Anaesthesia  in  Obstetrics.  Nelaton's  Method  of  Kcsuscitation  from 
Chloroform.  Narcosis."  Eead  before  the  British  Medical  Association,  August 
22,  1874.— Amer.  Jour.  Med.  Sc,  October,  1874. 

"  Utero-Gastrotomy."  A  communication  to  the  New  York  State  Medical 
Society,  1875. — New  York  Med.  Bee,  February  15, 1875 ;  Amer.  Jour.  Med. 
Sc,  April,  1875. 

"Lecture  on  Vesico- Vaginal  Fistula." — Pac.  Med.  and  Surg.  Jour.,  San 
Francisco,  Cal.,  1875. 

Same  reprinted  in  Med.  Herald,  Leavenworth,  1875. 

"  Address  as  President  of  the  American  Medical  Association,  January  6, 
1876." — "  Transactions  of  the  American  Medical  Association,  1876." 

Eeprinted  by  Collins,  Philadelphia,  1876. 

"  Legislation  and  Contagious  Diseases ;  an  Extract  from  the  Inaugural 
Address  delivered  before  the  American  Medical  Association,  at  its  Twenty- 
seventh  Annual  Meeting,  in  Philadelphia,  June  6, 1876."  8vo,  pp.  14.  Phila- 
delphia :  Collins,  printer.  1S76. — Extracted  from  "  Transactions  of  the  Ameri- 
can Medical  Association." 

"  Legislation  and  Contagious  Diseases  ;  an  Extract  from  the  Inaugural  Ad- 
dress delivered  before  the  American  Medical  Association,  at  its  Twenty-seventh 
Annual  Meeting,  in  Philadelphia,  June  6,  1876."  8vo,  pp.  16.  London : 
Spottiswoode.     1876. 

"  Epithelioma  of  the  Cervix  Uteri."  Eead  before  the  British  Medical  As- 
sociation, August  2,  1876.— Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  August  20,  1876.     Pp.  277. 

"  The  Woman's  Hospital  in  1874.  A  reply  to  the  Printed  Circulars  of  Dr. 
E.  E.  Peaslee,  T.  A.  Emmett,  and  T.  Gaillard  Thomas's  Address  to  the  Medi- 
cal Profession,  May  5, 1877."  8vo,  pp.  24.  New  York:  Kent  &  Co.,  print- 
ers.   1877. 

"  Discovery  of  Anaesthesia."  With  engraved  portrait  of  the  discoverers, 
Dr.  Crawford  W.  Long  and  Horace  Wells.  Pp.  14. — Richmond  Med.  Monthly, 
1877. 

11  The  Discovery  of  Anaesthesia."  Pp.  20.  Eeprinted  from  the  Eichmond 
Med.  Monthly.     J.  W.  Ferguson  &  Son.     1877. 

"  Professor  Lister's  Introduction  on  Antiseptic  Surgery.  Letter  from 
Paris."    Paris,  October  10, 1877.   Pp.  60S.— Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  October  27, 1877. 

"  Battey's  Operation."  8vo,  pp.  31.  London,  1878.  Edited  by  Frichos. 
Eeprinted  from  the  Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  December,  1877. 

"  Extracts  from  an  Essay  upon  Battey's  Operation,  in  the  British  Medical 
Journal,  December,  1877."     8vo,  pp.  2.     (N.  P.    N.  D.) 


462  THE  STOEY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

"  Bemarks  on  Battey's  Operation." — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  December  8,  1877, 
p.  79-3  ;  continued  in  December  15,  p.  840  ;  December  22,  p.  881 ;  concluded 
December  29,  1877,  p.  916. 

"  Cholecystotomy  in  Dropsy  of  tbe  Gall  Bladder.  Case  operated  in  April, 
1S7S." — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  June,  1878. —  Gaillard's  Medical  Journal. 

"  Bemarks  on  Cholecystotomy  in  Dropsy  of  the  Gall  Bladder." — Brit. 
Med.  Jour.,  June  8,  1S78,  p.  811-S15. — Gaillard's  Medical  Journal. 

"  The  Operations  of  Simpson  and  Sims  for  Stenosis  of  the  Cervix  Uteri 
compared."  Bead  before  the  British  Medical  Association,  at  Bath,  August  8, 
1878.  Beported  in  Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  September  7,  1878,  p.  865. — Gaillard's 
Medical  Journal. 

"Surgical  Instruments  exhibited  at  International  Exhibition  in  Paris: 
Uterine  Curette,  Bistoury  Holder,  Uterine  Dilator."  Illustrated. — P.  704 
Brit.  Med.  Jour,  for  November  9,  1878. 

"  On  the  Surgical  Treatment  of  Stenosis  of  the  Cervix  Uteri." — Extracts 
"  American  Gynaecological  Society."     Vol.  III.,  p.  54.     1878. 

'*  On  the  Extraction  of  Eoreign  Bodies  from  the  Ear." — Brit.  Med.  Jour., 
London,  December  14, 1878,  p.  868. 

"  On  the  Surgical  Treatment  of  Stenosis  of  the  Cervix  Uteri."  With  dis- 
cussion.— "  Transactions  of  the  American  Gynaecological  Society,  1878."  Bos- 
ton.   1879.     Vol.  1TI. 

"  Cholecystotomie  pour  l'Extraction  des  Calculs  dans  l'Hydropsie  de  la 
Vesicule  Biliare."  Trad,  de  1' Anglais  par  Eontain  et  Bargemont. — Eev.  de 
Lit.  Med.  pour  1878.     Vol.  ID.    1879. 

"  History  of  the  Discovery  of  Anaesthesia."  New  York.  1879.  Pp.  14. 
Portrait.  Beprinted  from  Virginia  Med.  Monthly,  1879. — Gaillard's  Medi- 
cal Journal. 

"  On  Syringing  the  Ear."     Letter. — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  February  1, 1879. 

"  A  Forceps  Case."     Letter— Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  February  22,  1879. 

"  Bemarks  on  Abscesses  of  the  Liver,  made  before  the  Medical  Society  of 
Virginia,  at  its  Tenth  Annual  Session,  held  at  Alexandria,  October  26, 1879." 
8vo°pp.  6.     (N.  P.)    1879. 

"  The  Treatment  of  Epithelioma  of  the  Cervix  Uteri."  8vo,  pp.  41.  New 
York  :  Win.  Wood  &  Co.  1879.  Beported  from  Arner.  Med.  Jour  of  Oos., 
N.  Y.    Vol.  XH.     1879. 

"Cholecystotomy."  Translated  by  Dr.  Spaak.— Jb?/r.  de  Med.  Chir.  et 
Pliar.    Brux.,  1879.     Beprinted  in  other  French  and  foreign  journals. 

"Diagnosis  of  Abscesses  of  the  Liver  by  Symptoms  of  Cerebral  Hypere- 
mia, with  some  remarks  on  the  Treatment  of  Hepatic  Abscess  by  Aspiration." 
"  Transactions  of  the  Virginia  Medical  Society,  1879."  The  same  in  the 
Southern  Practitioner.  Nashville,  1880. 

"  The  Bromide  of  Ethyl  as  an  Anaesthetic."  Bead  before  the  New  York 
Academv  of  Medicine,  March  18,  1880,  with  discussion.  8vo,  pp.  22.  New 
York.  1880.  Also  Medical  Record,  N.  Y.,  1880.  —  Gaillard's  Medical 
Journal. 

"  The  Treatment  of  Epithelioma  of  the  Cervix  Uteri." — Amer.  Jour.  Obs., 


APPENDIX  IV.  463 

N.  Y.,  1879.  Reprinted  in  GaillardPs  Journal,  JV.  Y,,  1880.  Also  printed 
in  French  in  the  Annales  Gynozcologicales  pour  1880.  Also  in  pamphlet, 
February,  1880. 

"  Bromide  of  Ethyl  as  an  Anaesthetic."  Eeprinted  in  the  New  York  Rec- 
ord, April  3, 1880.— ^*#.  Med.  Jour.,  May  14,  1880. 

"  Thomas  Keith  and  Ovariotomy."  8vo,  pp.  16,  Part  I.  New  York:  W. 
Wood  &  Co.  1880.  Ecprint  from  American  Journal  of  Obstetrics,  New 
York,  April,  1880.    Vol.  XIII. 

"  Pregnancy  Vomiting."  8vo.  pp.  8.  New  York:  G.  P.  Putnam  &  Son. 
18S0.    Eeprinted  from  the  Archives  of  Medicine,  June,  1880. 

"  Thomas  Keith  on  Ovariotomy."  New  York.  1880.  W.  Wood  &  Co. 
8vo,  pp.  16.    Portrait. 

"  Bromide  of  Ethyl  as  an  Anaesthetic."  —  GaillardPs  Medical  Journal, 
New  York,  1880. 

"  Thomas  Keith  and  Ovariotomy."—  Amer.  Jour,  of  Obs.,  New  York,  1880. 

"  Surgeons  in  Public  Journals  (Thomas  Keith,  the  great  Scotch  Ovarioto- 
mist)."— Med.  Rev.,  New  York,  1880. 

"Annual  Address  as  President  of  the  American  Gynaecological  Society, 
18S0."  Boston.  1881.  Vol.  V.  GaillardPs  Medical  Journal.  "Trans- 
actions of  the  American  Gynaecological  Society." 

"Pregnancy  Vomiting." — Archives  Med.,  New  York,  1880.  The  same^ 
8vo,  pp.  8.    Putnam  &  Son.    1880. — GaillardPs  Medical  Journal. 

"  Eemarks  on  the  Treatment  of  Gunshot  Wounds  of  the  Abdomen  in  Ee- 
lation  to  Modern  Peritoneal  Surgery." — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  London,  1881. — 
GaillardPs  Medical  Journal. 

"  Supplementary  Eemarks." — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  London,  1882,  p.  180.  Fur- 
ther lemarks,  pp.  222  and  260. 

"The  Eecent  Progress  of  Peritoneal  Surgery." — Med.  Rec.,  New  York, 
1881. 

"  The  Surgical  Treatment  of  President  Garfield."— iV:  A.  Rev.,  N.  Y.,  1881. 

Article  on  "  Sterility  in  Women." — Johnson's  Ci/clopozdia,  1877. 

"  Eemarks  on  the  Treatment  of  Gunshot  Wounds  of  the  Abdomen  in  Ee- 
lation  to  Peritoneal  Surgery."  Eead  before  the  New  York  Academy  of  Medi 
cine,  October  6,  1881. — Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  December  10,  1881,  p.  925;  con- 
tinued December  17,  1881,  p.  971  ;  February  11,  1882,  p.  184;  February 
18,  1882,  p.  222  ;  February  25,  1882,  p.  260  ;  concluded  March  4,  1882, 
p.  302. 

"  Treatment  of  Syphilis."—  Brit.  Med.  Jour.,  March  10,  1883,  pp.  448  and 
450. 

As  Dr.  Sims  was  a  frequent  contributor  to  the  current  medical 
journals,  a  more  careful  study  will  greatly  increase  the  list.  And 
he  was  an  active  or  corresponding  member  of  many  medical  socie- 
ties in  America  and  Europe,  besides  being  an  honorary  member  of 
the  Edinburgh,  Brussels,  Berlin,  Christiania,  Paris,  and  Dublin  so- 


4:64:  THE   STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

cieties,  a  Fellow  of  the  Obstetrical  Society  of  London,  and  numer- 
ous other  medical  and  scientific  bodies  at  home  and  abroad. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  Alabama  State  Medical  Association, 
New  York  County  and  State  Medical  Society,  New  York  Academy 
of  Medicine,  New  York  Neurological,  Pathological,  and  Surgical 
societies,  and  an  honorary  member  of  the  Connecticut  State  Medi- 
cal Society,  Virginia,  South  Carolina,  and  California  State  Medical 
Societies. 

Dr.  Sims  became  a  member  of  the  American  Medical  Associ- 
ation in  1852,  as  a  delegate  from  the  Alabama  State  Medical  Asso- 
ciation ;  and,  in  1858,  attended  for  the  Woman's  Hospital  of  New 
York.  He  also  attended  meetings  of  this  organization  in  1860, 
1872,  1874,  1875,  1876,  1877,  1880,  and  was  president  of  it  in  1876. 
He  was  also  a  member  and  president  of  the  American  Gynaecologi- 
cal Society,  and  has  contributed  ably  to  its  transactions.  His  skill 
and  experience  in  the  obstetrical  art  led  to  his  engagement  to  at- 
tend the  accouchement  of  the  Empress  Eugenie,  of  France,  and  also 
to  attend  the  Empress  of  Austria.  His  practice  in  Europe  was 
largely  among  the  nobility,  from  whom  he  received  large  fees  and 
valuable  presents.  The  doctor  visited  "Washington  city  but  a  few 
months  ago,  and  selected  and  purchased  a  most  eligible  site  for  a 
residence,  and  looked  forward  to  the  enjoyments  of  home  in  that 
city  a  few  years  hence,  when  he  should  retire  from  active  practice. 

He  was,  when  here,  in  apparently  good  health,  and  certainly 
looked  remarkably  well,  but  spoke  of  the  necessity  he  was  under  of 
being  careful  as  to  diet  and  exposure. 

Wishing  to  avoid  the  rigor  of  our  winters,  he  proposed  to  visit 
Italy,  and  anticipated  a  delightful  visit  to  Rome,  where  he  spent 
last  winter.  Some  three  years  since,  Dr.  Sims  suffered  from  a  se- 
vere attack  of  pneumonia,  since  which  time,  in  cold  weather,  some 
unwelcome  heart  symptoms  were  from  time  to  time  observed. 
Hence,  for  the  past  two  years,  he  has  passed  the  winter  months  in 
the  south  of  France  and  in  Rome,  and  the  remainder  of  the  year  in 
other  parts  of  Europe  and  the  United  States. 

Dr.  Sims  was  united  in  marriage,  December  21,  1836,  to  Eliza 
Theresa,  daughter  of  Dr.  Bartlett  Jones,  of  Lancaster,  South  Caro- 
lina, who,  with  seven  children,  survives  him.  His  son,  Henry  Mar- 
ion Sims,  is  in  active  practice,  and  most  abundantly  inherits  the 
ability  and  skill  of  his  father,  whose  memory  the  whole  medical 


APPENDIX  IV.  465 

profession  loves  to  honor,  for  by  his  genius  the  science  and  the  art 
of  medicine  has  been  advanced  as  much,  if  not  more,  than  by  any 
medical  man  of  the  present  century.  Dr.  J.  Marion  Sims's  name 
will  stand  in  the  history  of  the  progress  and  discoveries  in  medi- 
cine, associated  with  Harvey,  Morgagni,  Laennec,  and  other  grand 
characters,  who  have  heroically  and  successfully  devoted  themselves 
to  the  science  and  the  art  of  medicine  for  the  benefit  of  mankind. 

Biographies  of  Dr.  Sims  were  published  some  years  since  in 
Johnson's  u Universal  Cyclopedia,"  in  "Physicians  and  Surgeons 
of  the  United  States,"  and  in  the  "  Virginia  Medical  Monthly," 
from  all  of  which  the  material  for  this  sketch  has  been  freely 
drawn. 

An  excellent  portrait,  engraved  by  R.  0.  Brine,  from  a  photo- 
graph by  Kurtz,  was  made  some  years  since.  It  exhibits  the  doc- 
tor at  about  the  age  of  sixty,  and  wearing  his  decorations.  It  also 
contains  a  facsimile  autograph.  A  fine  marble  bust  of  the  doctor 
was,  in  March  12,  1880,  presented  by  the  surgical  staff  of  the  Jef- 
ferson College  Hospital  to  the  Alumni  Society  of  Jefferson  College. 
This  society  has  presented  it  to  the  trustees  of  the  Jefferson  College 
Hospital,  and  it  now  occupies  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  hall  of  that 
institution.  In  commemoration  of  the  founder  of  the  "Woman's  Hos- 
pital of  New  York,  a  fine  marble  bust  of  Dr.  Sims  was  presented  to 
the  institution  by  Mrs.  Russell  Sage,  a  few  days  since,  on  the  twen- 
ty-ninth anniversary.  The  bust  was  cut  by  Dubois,  of  Paris,  and  is 
a  good  likeness  of  the  great  apostle  of  gynaecology,  and  a  splendid 
work  of  art. 

Dr.  Sims's  funeral  took  place,  in  an  unostentatious  manner,  from 
the  Madison  Square  Presbyterian  Church,  where  he  was  one  of  the 
oldest  pew-holders,  on  Friday,  November  16th,  and  was  largely  at- 
tended by  the  medical  profession  and  leading  citizens  of  New  York. 
The  Rev.  Charles  H.  Parkhurst,  minister  of  the  church,  conducted 
the  services,  and  eulogized  the  character  and  achievements  of  Dr. 
Sims  in  merited  and  glowing  terms.  The  interment  took  place  in 
Greenwood  Cemetery.     Peace  to  his  ashes! 

Remarks  of  Dr.  Joseph  Taber  Johnson. 

Me.  President  and  Gentlemen:  When  John  Hancock,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Continental  Congress,  signed  his  name  to  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  in  1776,  it  is  said  that  he  wrote  his  signature  in 


4:66  THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

characters  so  large  and  so  loud  that  the  cry  for  liberty,  which  they 
represented,  was  heard  around  the  world. 

It  may  be  said  with  equal  truth  and  propriety  that  when  Marion 
Sims  fell  so  suddenly  into  the  arms  of  death,  the  shock  was  felt 
wherever  women  suffer  or  surgery  is  practiced. 

Hancock,  by  his  eloquence,  wisdom,  and  example,  stimulated  not 
only  his  associates  but  posterity  to  patriotism,  learning,  and  noble 
deeds.  Sims,  by  his  brilliant  genius,  patient  industry,  wonderful 
skill,  and  dexterity  saved  the  lives  of  many,  and  made  the  burden 
of  life  less  irksome  to  countless  numbers  of  this  and  future  genera- 
tions. TVho  shall  say  that  the  former  is  more  deserving  of  fame 
than  the  latter? 

Poets  sing  that  he  who  dries  a  tear  or  saves  a  pang  to  suffering 
woman  has  rendered  a  service  more  praiseworthy  than  to  have 
fought  a  battle  or  captured  a  ship. 

Those  who  have  advocated  great  principles  or  instilled  pure  and 
noble  thoughts  into  the  minds  of  a  people;  those  who  have  con- 
quered the  enemy  of  the  state ;  he  who  by  his  conquests  has  added 
to  the  territorial  possessions  of  his  sovereign;  statesmen  who  have 
originated,  and  by  their  zeal  and  ability  carried  through  the  Con- 
gress or  the  Parliament  measures  for  the  relief  of  the  oppressed — 
all  these  have  received  just  praises  and  adulation  during  their  life, 
and  monuments  have  been  erected  to  perpetuate  their  memories 
after  they  were  dead.  Equally,  if  not  more,  are  they  benefactors 
of  their  race  who  devise  means  for  saving  life  instead  of  destroying 
it,  who  by  their  genius  rid  the  world  of  a  scourge  or  a  plague,  as 
well  as  they  who  destroy  an  army  or  take  a  city. 

Prominent  among  the  benefactors  of  mankind  would  I  see  the 
honored  name  inscribed  whose  useful  deeds  we  have  met  together 
to  recount,  and  whose  virtues  it  gives  us  a  melancholy  pleasure  to 
commemorate. 

If  the  sad  procession  could  speak  to  us  to-night — which  would 
have  gladly  and  mournfully  followed  his  mortal  remains  to  their 
last  resting-place— made  up  of  those  directly  benefited  by  the  skill 
of  this  great  master  in  surgery  himself,  and  by  the  much  greater 
host  of  those  indirectly  owing  their  relief  from  pain  and  misery  to 
him,  there  would  have  been  no  uncertain  voice  to  proclaim  that 
this  beloved  name  should  occupy  a  position  among  the  highest  and 
noblest  upon  the  pillar  of  fame. 


APPENDIX  IV.  467 

Honored,  as  few  have  been  in  our  land,  by  the  presidency  of  the 
American  Medical  Association — that  great  representative  body  of 
physicians — and  with  the  same  distinction  by  the  American  Gynae- 
cological Society,  elected  also  to  membership  in  scores  of  medical 
and  scientific  societies — these  distinctions  exhibit  the  esteem  in 
which  he  was  held  by  his  countrymen,  and  also  the  fact  that  they 
delighted  to  do  him  honor. 

As  his  reputation  increased,  so  great  became  his  fame  that  no 
city,  State,  or  country  could  retain  him  within  its  narrow  bound- 
ary, and,  before  his  too  sudden  death  had  taken  him  from  us  for- 
ever, he  had  been  the  reluctant  recipient  of  the  most  flattering  evi- 
dences of  the  regard  of  the  great  and  the  noble  in  many  countries 
in  Europe.  Kings  and  queens  actually  besought  him  to  accept  their 
orders  and  decorations.  The  order  of  Knight  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor  was  conferred  upon  him  by  the  French  Government,  and  he 
was  subsequently  decorated  by  the  King  of  the  Belgians,  also  by 
the  Italian,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese  Governments. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  elements  in  his  character,  Dr.  Em- 
mett  said  to  me  only  a  year  ago,  was  the  cool  and  ready  ability 
which  he  always  exhibited  in  an  emergency.  His  unequaled  and 
wonderful  quickness  to  appreciate  how  best  to  turn  to  good  account 
some  unlooked-for  occurrence  during  the  progress  of  a  grave  opera- 
tion had  been  a  constant  surprise  to  him. 

This  was  exemplified  in  his  operation  upon  a  French  countess 
whose  life  had  been  despaired  of  by  the  best  medical  talent  in 
Paris.  Sims,  believing  she  could  be  cured,  operated — in  her  weak- 
ness and  prostration — in  the  presence  of  many  celebrated  physi- 
cians, and,  when  about  to  close  the  wound,  after  the  skillful  removal 
of  the  cause  of  the  malady,  she  apparently  expired  under  the  com- 
bined effects  of  shock  and  anaesthesia,  whereupon  a  bystander  sar- 
castically remarked  :  "  Yes ;  your  operation  is  successful,  but  your 
patient  is  dead.     We  could  have  done  as  well  as  that." 

Sims  had  staked  everything  upon  this,  his  first  prominent  opera- 
tion in  France,  and,  stung  to  the  quick  by  the  sarcasm  of  this  skep- 
tical Parisian,  he  dropped  his  knife  and  sprang  upon  the  operating- 
table,  remarking,  "No,  she  shall  not  die,"  seized  her  by  the  feet  and 
swung  her  head  downward  until  the  anaemic  brain,  with  the  aid  of 
gravity,  became  supplied  with  blood.  Nervous  power  was  gener- 
ated to  cause  the  heart  to  send  a  vascular  supply  to  the  lungs.     The 


^0 S  THE   STORY   OF  MY  LITE. 

patient   drew  a  !:::  vr:  ~!.e  mysterious  machinery  of  Bfc 

moved  again  slowly  in:o  action — aDd  the  countess  lived.   The  opera- 
tion proved  to  be  a  success,  and  Sims's  reputation  was  won. 

Hanging  the  head  downward,  in  cases  of  suspended  animation 
from  chloroform  poisoning,  was  not  entirely  new  or  original  with 
Sims,  but  his  cool,  quick,  and  successful  grasp  of  the  situation  n 
the  culminating  climax  which  won  to  him  the  hearts  of  the  French 
people,  ever  fond  of  courage  and  dashing  display  when  crowned  by 
success. 

It  was  not,  how--:,  by  stage  effects,  parade  of  wonderful  cures, 
or  the  industrious  importunities  of  partial  friends  or  grateful  pa- 
tients, that  Sims's  glorious  and  j :'.  nal  reputation  was  made. 

This  was  founded  upon  the  everlasting  rock  of  solid  scientific 
attainments,  and  upon  those  rure  elements  combined  in  one  man 
which  go  to  make  up,  round  out,  and  complete  the  character  of  the 
Christian  gentleman.  It  is  said  of  him  that  no  woman  ever 
trusted  him,  while  his  exceptional  purity  of  speech  and  life,  together 
with  the  personal  magnetism  of  his  smile,  his  words,  his  manners, 
attracted  many  to  him  and  held  them  chained  with  the  silken  cords 
of  love,  gratitude,  and  esteem. 

nomas  says:  "If  all  that  Sims  has  done  for  gyna: : 
gy  were  suppressed  we  should  find  that  we  had  retrograded  at  Ic 
a  quarter  of  a  century." 

This,  coming  from  the  now  most  prominent,  original,  and  justly 
celebrated  gynaecologist  in  America,  and  scarcely  second  to  any 
throughout  the  world,  is  praise  indeed,  and.  were  it  not  a  sad  pleas- 
ure to  bis  friends  and  professional  admirers  to  enumerate  his  many 
achievements  for  science  and  humanity,  and  his  many  estimable 
qualities  of  head  and  heart,  it  would  be  a  sufficient  eulogy,  as  it 
epitomizes  whole  discourses,  and  might  constitute  an  appropriate 
epitaph  to  inscribe  upon  his  monument. 

I  have  left  it  to  others  to  describe  his  operations  and  to  speak 
of  the   era  in  gynaecology  inaugurated   by  the   invention  of  fa :; 
nlum,    and  the  use   of  silver- wire    sutures   in   vagino  -  plastic 
surgery. 

ft  _ives  me  a  peculiar  pleasure,  however,  to  speak  of  this  great 
man,  who  has  brought  such  relief  to  suffering  womankind,  whose 
reputation  is  world-wide,  who  was  courted  by  kings  and  princes, 
decorated  by  foreign  governments,  elected  to  honorary  membership 


APPENDIX  IV.  469 

in  many  European  societies,  and  whose  name  is  embalmed  in  the 
hearts  and  memories  of  thousands  as  a  gynaecologist. 

As  a  gynaecologist  he  began  his  career  in  Alabama,  in  1836.  In 
1849  his  fame  in  that  State  culminated  in  the  perfection  of  his 
method  of  operating  for  the  cure  of  vesico  and  recto-vaginal  fistulae. 
In  1853  he  moved  to  New  York,  and  in  addition  to  the  building  up 
of  an  extensive  and  lucrative  practice  as  a  gynaecologist,  he  succeed- 
ed in  establishing  one  of  the  largest  and  best-regulated  hospitals  in 
the  world,  devoted  to  the  exclusive  practice  of  gynaecology. 

As  a  gynaecologist  he  visited  Europe,  and  it  was  in  this  capacity 
that  unparalleled  honors  were  literally  showered  upon  him,  and  it 
has  ever  been  in  the  acquisition  of  his  fame  that  he  wrote,  spoke, 
and  practiced  gynaecology. 

The  grand  universal  school  of  Medicine  claims  him  with  pride  as 
one  of  her  brightest  and  most  particular  stars,  and  is  now  every- 
where engaged  in  her  journals  and  societies  in  doing  honor  to  his 
memory.  The  more  particular  division  of  Surgery  claims  him  as  one 
of  her  most  skillful  and  renowned  operators,  and  every  professor  of 
surgery  has  ere  this  spoken  to  his  class  of  the  glory  of  his  career. 
But,  Mr.  President,  though  Medicine  universal  may  claim  him,  though 
surgery  more  especially  may  claim  him,  it  is  the  specialty  of  Gynae- 
cology which  owns  him,  which  cultivated  and  produced  him,  which 
he  honored  in  his  life  and  which  loves  to  honor  him  in  his  death. 

It  is  sad  to  think  that  his  last  years  were  too  full  of  cares,  occu- 
pation, and  ill  health  to  permit  him  to  finish  the  great  literary  work 
of  his  life,  which  would  recount  for  the  benefit  of  posterity  the  vari- 
ous steps  by  which  he  reached  the  elevated  plane  upon  which  he 
stood.  He  said  to  me  in  his  parlor  at  the  Arlington  Hotel,  during 
his  recent  visit  to  Washington,  in  answer  to  my  regrets  that  its  publi- 
cation had  been  so  long  delayed,  with  a  sadness  and  pathos  in  his 
voice  which  I  shall  never  forget :  "  My  dear  doctor,  I  shall  never 
live  to  complete  it.  There  are  plenty  of  others  to  take  up  the  work 
where  I  leave  it,  and  I  have  more  important  things  to  do  in  the  lit- 
tle of  life  remaining  to  me  than  to  write  of  what  I  have  done  in  the 
past." 

There  is  a  sadness  also  in  viewing  the  elevation  of  any  man  to  a 
plane  so  high  above  his  fellows  that  he  has  no  equals  of  whom  to 
take  council,  or  for  daily,  friendly  intercourse ;  but  this  sadness  has 
its  alleviation  in  the  contemplation  of  our  honored,  loved,  and 


f 


470  THE   STOPwY  OF  MY  LIFE. 

trusted  friend,  standing  so  high  in  the  clouds,  upon  the  topmost 
round  of  the  ladder  of  fame,  that  it  was  but  a  step  for  him  over  into 
the  confines  of  that  celestial  country  where  the  weary  are  at  rest 
for  ever. 

Retnar'ks  by  Dr.  W.  W.  Johnston. 

The  great  apostle  of  hero  worship  has  said  that  "  Universal  his- 
tory ...  is  at  bottom  the  history  of  the  great  men  who  have 
worked  here.  .  .  .  All  things  that  we  see  standing  accomplished  in 
the  world  are  properly  the  outer  material  result,  the  practical  real- 
ization and  embodiment  of  thoughts  that  dwelt  in  the  great  men 
sent  into  the  world,  the  soul  of  the  whole  world's  history,  it  may 
justly  be  considered,  were  the  history  of  these."  Is  this  doctrine 
true,  or  is  it  not  nearer  the  truth  to  hold  that  great  men  do  but  utter 
the  thoughts  of  thousands  not  great,  and  ''that  all  things  that  we 
see  standing  accomplished  in  the  world  are  the  practical  realization 
and  embodiment  "  of  the  strife  and  travail  of  the  unfamed,  often  of 
the  unknown  ?  Events  make  men,  and  are  not  made  by  them.  It 
took  many  years  of  discontent  and  liberty-craving  in  England  to 
make  a  Cromwell.  He  came  to  the  top  as  the  ablest  representative 
of  the  long-suffering  spirit  of  rebellion  against  tyranny  and  intoler- 
ance. He  did  not  make  the  revolution.  The  revolution  made  him. 
But  none  the  less  honor  is  due  to  those  great  names  which  mark 
the  epochs  of  the  world's  history.  That  these  great  men  did  em- 
body in  themselves  the  power  and  intellect  of  thousands,  gifted  with 
intelligence  and  aiming  at  the  same  ends,  is  the  highest  tribute  to 
their  genius  and  fame.  Their  deeds,  however,  rank  not  as  miracu- 
lous outbursts  of  genius,  but  take  their  place  in  the  orderly  proces- 
sion of  events  which  mark  the  evolution  of  man's  growing  domin- 
ion over  ignorance  and  nature. 

The  knowledge  of  the  diseases  of  women  lay  sleeping  during 
centuries.  The  structure  of  society  in  Catholic  Europe  and  among 
the  Arabs,  by  the  peculiar  relations  fixed  between  men  and  women, 
put  a  stop  to  all  scientific  and  practical  investigation.  Even  after 
all  barriers  were  removed,  the  time  was  very  long  before  a  real  gain 
was  made.  The  time  was  ripe  when  Sims  patiently  began  to  work 
out  problems  which  were  essential  to  operative  gynaecology.  Even 
slavery  had  its  uses  in  the  pursuit  of  his  ends.  Who  can  tell  how 
many  more  years  the  progress  of  the  art  might  have  been  delayed, 


APPENDIX  IV.  471 

if  tbe  humble  negro  servitors  had  not  brought  their  willing  suffer- 
ings and  patient  endurance  to  aid  in  the  furthering  of  Sims's  pur- 
pose. 

In  looking  at  the  after-life  of  the  successful  surgeon,  we  are  apt 
to  overlook  the  struggles  with  many  obstacles  during  the  earlier 
years  of  his  life.  The  soul  of  Sims  must  have  been  a  supersensitive 
one.  We  know  that  beneath  a  quiet  exterior  there  slumbered  emo- 
tions which  were  the  necessary  accompaniment  of  his  delicate  cere- 
bral organization.  Such  men  do  not  go  through  life  without  many 
crosses.  That  tenderness  which  drew  all  men  and  women  to  him 
was  the  expression  of  an  impressionable  nerve-tissue  which  reacted 
to  tbe  slightest  touch  of  harshness  as  to  a  wound. 

The  life  of  Sims  marked  an  epoch  in  medical  history.  He  lived 
to  see  a  new  science  born,  to  watch  it  grow  into  the  perfection  of 
exact  beauty  and  proportion,  and  he  died  with  dreams  of  great 
things  yet  to  be  done  filling  the  chambers  of  his  capacious  mind. 

After  which  Dr.  J.  M.  Toner  read  a  carefully  prepared  biography 
of  Dr.  Sims,  which  appears  in  the  first  department  of  this  number. 
The  resolutions  reported  were  unanimously  adopted,  and  then  this 
historical  meeting  in  connection  with  Dr.  Sims  silently  adjourned. 

Note. — An  eloquent  and  handsome  eulogy  was  pronounced  by 
Dr.  S.  C.  Busey,  but  no  report  of  his  remarks  was  made. 


THE   END. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  WORKS. 


The  Life  and  Writings  of  Henry  Thomas  Buckle. 

By  Alfred  Hknry  Hutu.     12mo,  cloth.     Price,  $2.00. 

"  To  all  admirers  of  Buckle,  Mr.  Hath  has  rendered  a  welcome  service  by  the 

Eublication  of  these  volumes,  while  to  those  who  have  been  prejudiced  against 
im,  either  hy  his  own  bold  writings  or  by  the  unjust  treatment  he  has  received 
at  the  hands  of  many  critics,  and  even  some  would-be  panegyrists,  they  should 
be  of  yet  greater  service. ''—London  Athenaeum. 

Erasmus  Darwin. 

By  Ernst  Krause.  Translated  from  the  German  by  W.  S.  Dallas.  With 
a  Preliminary  Notice  by  Charles  Darwin.  With  Portrait  and 
Woodcuts.     One  volume,  12mo.     Cloth,  price,  $1.25. 

The  Life  of  Charles  Dickens. 

By  John  Forster.  Forming  the  concluding  volume  of  Chapman  &  Hall's 
Household  Edition  of  the  Works  of  Charles  Dickens.  With  40 
Illustrations.     Square  8vo.     Cloth,  $1.75  ;  paper,  $1.25. 

French  Men  of  Letters. 

Personal  and  Anecdotical  Sketches  of  Victor  Hugo,  Alfred  de  Musset, 
Theophile  Gautier,  Henri  Murger,  Sainte-Beuve,  Gerard  de  Nerval, 
Alexandre  Dumas,  fils,  Emile  Augier,  Octave  Feuillet,  Victorien 
Sardou,  Alphonse  Daudet,  and  Emile  Zola.  By  Maurice  Mauris. 
(Appletons'  "  New  Handy- Volume  Series.")  Paper,  35  cents ; 
cloth,  60  cents. 

"A  notable  addition  is  made  to  Appletons1  admirable  '  New  Handy-Volume 
Series,'  in  '  French  Men  of  Letters,'  by  Maurice  Mauris.  It  is  a  delightful  book, 
containing  a  dozen  sketches  of  the  great  men  whose  names  are  known  to  all  the 
world,  but  whose  personalities,  for  the  most  part,  the  world  only  guesses  at. 
The  little  book  really  is  charming  ;  as  good  reading  as  a  good  novel,  and  above 
even  the  best  of  novels  in  that  its  characters  are  real.' '—Philadelphia  Times. 

Memories  of  my  Exile. 

By  Louis  Kossuth.  Translated  from  the  original  Hungarian  by  Ferencz 
Jausz.     One  vol.,  crown  8vo.     Cloth.     Price,  $2.00. 

This  important  work  relates  to  the  period  when  the  Italian  Kingdom  was 
being  established,  and  gives  the  Secret  Treaties  and  details  of  the  understanding 
between  Enaland,  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  and  Count  Cavour. 

"  These  4  Memories '  disclose  a  curious  episode  in  the  inner  life  of  English 
domestic  politics." — The  Nation. 

Elihu  Burritt. 

A  Memorial  Volume,  containing  a  Sketch  of  his  Life  and  Labors,  with 
Selections  from  his  Writings  and  Lectures,  and  Extracts  from  his 
Private  Journals  in  Europe  and  America.  Edited  by  Charles 
Northend,  A.  M.     12mo,  cloth.     Price,  $1.75. 


D.  APPLET  ON  &  CO.,  Publishers,  I,  3,  6*  5  Bond  St.,  New  York. 


D.  APPLETON   &   00/S  PUBLICATIONS. 

RETROSPECT  OF  A  LONG   LIFE,  from  1815  to  1883.     By 

S."  C.  Hall,  F.  S.  A.     With  Portraits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall. 

Crown  8vo,  cloth,  $2.50. 

Containing  Reminiscences  of  almost  all  the  celebrated  Literary  Men  for  the 
last  half-century —Tennyson,  Charles  Dickens,  Hawthorne,  Charles  Lamb,  Savage 
Landor,  Lady  Blessimrton,  Carlyle,  Longfellow,  Coleridge,  De  Quincey,  Miss 
Edgeworth,  Godwin,  Hallam,  Hazlitt,  Tom  Hood,  Leigh  Hunt,  Father  Prout, 
Mrs.  Norton,  Rogers,  John  Ruskin,  Sydney  Smith,  Wordsworth,  Edmund  Kean, 
Macready,  Keeley,  Miss  O'Neil,  George  Cruikshank,  Samuel  Prout,  Turner,  Wil- 
kie,  Beranger,  Fenimore  Cooper,  Lord  Lytton,  Palmerston,  Macaulay,  Beacons- 
field,  Canning,  George  IY,  Lyndhurst,  Brougham,  etc.,  etc. 

Mr.  Hall  is  well  known  as  the  editor  for  many  years  of  the  London  "Art  Jour- 
nal," as  author  of  "The  Stately  Homes  of  England,1'  and  numerous  books  pre- 
pared in  conjunction  with  his  wife,  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall.  Mr.  Hall  was  at  one  time  a 
parliamentary  reporter;  he  succeeded  Campbell  as  editor  of  "  The  New  Monthly 
Magazine,"  and  was  editorially  associated  with  other  periodicals.  During  his 
long  connection  with  letters  he  met  many  men  of  note ;  in  fact,  he  has  something 
to  say  in  this  book  of  almost  every  person  who  has  occupied  public  attention 
during  the  past  sixty  years. 

"It  was  eminently  proper  and  desirable  that  Mr.  Hall  should  write  his  recol- 
lections, for  his  life,  in  addition  to  its  great  length,  was  passed  in  circumstances 
that  fitted  him  to  write  of  persons  and  events  in  which  the  world  has  an  undying 
interest.  The  book  is  very  readable,  and  it  is  worth  beine  read.  Mr.  Hall's  rec- 
ollections of  Americans  are  not  numerous,  but  they  are  always  appreciative." — 
New  York  Times. 

"  Mr.  S.  C.  Hall  has  given  us  not  a  diary  or  compilation  of  second-hand  mate- 
rials, but  genuine  reminiscences  of  men  and  events  that  he  has  personally  seen 
in  the  course  of  an  active  professional  career  that  covers  more  than  sixty  years. 
He  has  made  an  exceedingly  entertaining  book,  that  deserves  a  place  of  honor 
among  the  volumes  of  reminiscences  that  have  of  late  been  issued  with  such  pro- 
fusion from  the  American  press." — New  York  Sun. 

JOHN    KEESE:  "Wit  and  Litterateur.     A  Biographical  Memoir.     By 

William  L.  Keese.     Small  4to,  cloth,  gilt  top,  §1.25. 

John  Keese  was  a  popular  book-auctioneer  of  New  York  thirty  years  ago, 
whose  witticisms  were  the  town  talk.  "  If  John  Keese  should  quit  the  auctioneer 
business,  I  should  die  oi  ennui"  exclaimed  one  of  his  admirers.  Mr.  Keese  was 
known  to  all  the  literary  people  of  his  day,  and  these  memoirs  contain  reminis- 
cences and  anecdotes  of  literary  circles  in  New  York  a  generation  ago  that  will 
be  valued  by  those  who  like  glances  at  past  local  conditions. 

LANDMARKS   OF    ENGLISH    LITERATURE.     By  Henry 

J.  Nicoll.     12mo,  vellum  cloth,  $1.75. 

"The  plan  adopted  in  this  book  has  been  to  deal  solely  with  the  very  greatest 
names  in  the  several  departments  of  Enelish  literature — with  those  writers  whose 
works  are  among  the  most  imperishable  elories  of  Britain,  and  with  whom  it  is 
a  disgrace  for  even  the  busiest  to  remain  unacquainted." — From  Preface. 

"We  can  warmly  recommend  this  excellent  manual." — St.  James's  Gazette. 

"  The  '  Landmarks  of  Enslish  Literature"  is  a  work  of  exceptional  value.  It 
reveals  scholarship  and  high  literary  ability.  Mr.  Nicoll  has  a  proper  conception 
of  the  age  in  which  he  lives,  and  of  its  reauireraents  in  the  special  line  in  which 
he  has  attempted  to  work."— New  York  Herald. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.   APPLETON   &   CO/8   PUBLICATIONS. 


ERRORS  IN  THE   USE  OF  ENGLISH.    By  the  late  William 

B.  Hodgson,  LL.  D.,  Professor  of  Political  Economy  in  the  University 

of  Edinburgh.     American  revised  edition.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

"  This  posthumous  work  of  Dr.  Hodgson  deserves  a  hearty  welcome,  for  it  is 
sure  to  do  good  service  for  the  object  it  has  in  view— improved  accuracy  in  the 
use  of  the  English  language.  .  .  .  Perhaps  its  chief  use  will  be  in  very  distinctly 
proving  with  what  wonderful  carelessness  or  incompetency  the  English  language 
is  generally  written.  For  the  examples  of  error  here  brought  together  are  not 
picked  from  obscure  or  inferior  writings.  Among  the  grammatical  sinners  whose 
trespasses  are  here  recorded  appear  many  of  our  best-known  authors  and  publi- 
cations."— The  Academy. 

THE    ENGLISH   GRAMMAR   OF  WILLIAM   COBBETT. 

Carefully  revised  and  annotated  by  Alfred  Ayres.     -With  Index. 
18mo,  cloth,  extra,  $1.00. 

"  I  know  it  well,  and  have  read  it  with  great  admiration."— Richard  Grant 
White. 

"  Cobbett's  Grammar  is  probably  the  most  readable  grammar  ever  written. 
For  the  purposes  of  self-education  it  is  unrivaled.  Persons  that  studied  grammar 
when  at  school  and  failed  to  comprehend  its  principles— and  there  are  many  such 
— as  well  as  those  that  never  have  studied  grammar  at  all,  will  find  the  book 
specially  suited  to  their  needs.  Any  one  of  average  intelligence  that  will  give  it 
a  careful  reading  will  be  rewarded  with  at  least  a  tolerable  knowledge  of  the 
subject,  as  nothing  could  be  more  simple  or  more  lucid  than  its  expositions."— 
From  the  Preface. 

THE    ORTHOEPIST  :   A  Pronouncing  Manual,  containing  about 

Three  Thousand  Five   Hundred  Words,  including   a  Considerable 

Number  of  the  Names  of  Foreign  Authors,  Artists,  etc..  that  are 

often  mispronounced.    By  Alfred  Ayres.    18mo,  cloth,  extra,  $1.00. 

"  It  gives  us  pleasure  to  say  that  we  think  the  author,  in  the  treatrent  of  this 
very  difficult  and  intricate  subject,  English  pronunciation,  gives  proof  of  not  only 
an  unusual  degree  of  orthoepical  knowledge,  but  also,  for  the  most  part,  of  rare 
judgment  and  taste." — Joseph  Thomas,  LL.  D.,  in  Literary  World. 

THE  VERBALIST  :  A  Manual  devoted  to  Brief  Discussions  of  the 
Right  and  the  Wrong  Use  of  Words,  and  to  some  other  matters  of 
Interest  to  those  who  would  Speak  and  Write  with  Propriety,  includ- 
ing a  Treatise  on  Punctuation.  By  Alfred  Ayres.  18mo,  cloth, 
extra,  $1.00. 

"  This  is  the  best  kind  of  an  English  grammar.  It  teaches  the  right  use  of 
our  mother-tongue  by  giving  instances  of  the  wrong  use  of  it,  and  showing  why 
they  are  wrong."— The  Churchman. 

"  Every  one  can  learn  something  from  this  volume,  and  most  of  us  a  great 
deal.**—  Springfield  Republican. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


New  revised  edition  of  Bancrofts  History  of  the  United  States. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES,  from  the  Discovery 
of  the  Continent  to  the  Establishment  of  the  Constitution  in  1789. 
By  George  Bancroft.  An  entirely  new  edition,  partly  rewritten 
and  thoroughly  revised.  6  vols.,  8vo,  printed  from  new  type,  and 
bound  in  cloth,  uncut,  with  gilt  top,  $2.50  ;  sheep,  $3.50  ;  half  calf, 
$4.50  per  volume.     Vols.  I  to  V   ready. 

In  this  edition  of  his  great  work  the  author  has  made  extensive 
changes  in  the  text,  condensing  in  places,  enlarging  in  others,  and  care- 
fully revising.  It  is  practically  a  new  work,  embodying  the  results  of  the 
latest  researches,  and  enjoying  the  advantage  of  the  author's  long  and 
mature  experience.  The  original  octavo  edition  was  published  in  twelve 
volumes.  The  present  edition  will  be  completed  in  six  volumes,  each 
volume  containing  about  twice  as  much  matter. 

"  On  comparing  this  work  with  the  corresponding  volume  of  the  '  Centena- 
ry '  edition  of  18T6,  one  is  surprised  to  see  how  extensive  changes  the  author 
has  found  desirable,  even  after  so  short  an  interval.  The  first  thiug  that  strikes 
one  is  the  increased  number  of  chapters,  resulting  from  subdivision.  The  first 
volume  contains  two  volumes  of  the  original,  and  is  divided  into  thirty-eight 
chapters  instead  of  eighteen.  This  is  in  itself  an  improvement.  But  the  new 
arrangement  is  not  the  result  merely  of  subdivision ;  the  matter  is  rearranged  in 
such  a  manner  as  vastly  to  increase  the  lucidity  and  continuousness  of  treat- 
ment. In  the  present  edition  Mr.  Bancroft  returns  to  the  principle  of  division 
into  periods,  abandoned  in  the  'Centenary'  edition.  Eis  division  is,  however, 
a  new  one.  As  the  permanent  shape  taken  by  a  great  historical  work,  this  new 
arrangement  is  certainly  an  improvement.'"— The  Nation  {New  York). 

"  The  work  as  a  whole  is  in  better  shape,  and  is  of  course  more  authoritative 
than  ever  before.  This  last  revision  will  be  without  doubt,  both  from  its  desir- 
able form  and  accurate  text,  the  standard  one." — Boston  Traveller. 

"  It  has  not  been  granted  to  many  historians  to  devote  half  a  century  to  the 
history  of  a  single  people,  and  to  live  long  enough,  snd,  let  us  add,  to  be  willing 
and  wise  enough,  to  revise  and  rewrite  in  an  honored  old  age  the  work  of  a 
whole  lifetime."— New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  The  extent  and  thoroughness  of  this  revision  would  hardlv  be  guessed  with- 
out comparing  the  editions  side  by  side.  The  condensation  of  the  text  amounts 
to  something  over  one  third  of  the  previous  edition.  There  has  also  been  very 
considerable  recasting  of  the  text.  On  the  whole,  our  examination  of  the  first 
volume  leads  us  to  believe  that  the  thought  of  the  historian  loses  nothing:  by  the 
abbreviation  of  the  text.  A  closer  and  later  approximation  to  the  best  results  of 
scholarship  and  criticism  is  reached.  The  public  gains  by  its  more  compact 
brevity  and  in  amount  of  matter,  and  in  economy  of  time  and  money." — The  In- 
dependent {New  York). 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  said  at  this  day  of  the  value  of  '  Bancroft.'  Its  au- 
thority is  no  longer  in  dispute,  and  as  a  piece  of  vivid  and  realistic  historical 
writing  it  stands  among  the  best  works  of  its  class.  It  may  betaken  for  granted 
that  this  new  edition  will  greatly  extend  its  usefulness."—  Philadelphia  North 
American. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO/S  PUBLICATIONS. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES, 

from  the  Revolution  to  the  Civil  War.  By  John  Bach  McMaster. 
To  be  completed  in  five  volumes.  Volume  I,  Svo,  cloth,  gilt  top, 
$2.50. 

Scope  of  the  Work.— In  the  course  of  this  narrative  much  is  written  of  wars, 
conspiracies,  and  rebellions  ;  of  Presidents,  of  Congresses,  of  embassies,  of  treaties, 
of  the  ambition  of  political  leaders,  and  of  the  rise  of  great  parties  in  the  nation. 
Yet  the  history  of  the  people  is  the  chief  theme.  At  every  stage  of  the  splendid 
progress  which  separates  the  America  of  Washington  and  Adams  from  the  Amer- 
ica in  which  we  live,  it  has  been  the  author^s  purpose  to  describe  the  dress,  the 
occupations,  the  amusements,  the  literary  canons  of  the  times ;  to  note  the  changes 
of  manners  and  morals ;  to  trace  the  growth  of  that  humane  spirit  which  abol- 
ished punishment  for  debt,  and  reformed  the  discipline  of  prisons  and  of  jails;  to 
recount  the  manifold  improvements  which,  in  a  thousand  ways,  have  multiplied 
the  conveniences  of  life  and  ministered  to  the  happiness  of  our  race;  to  describe  the 
rise  and  progress  of  that  long  series  of  mechanical  inventions  and  discoveries  which 
is  now  the  admiration  of  the  world,  and  our  just  pride  and  boast ;  to  tell  how, 
under  the  benign  influence  of  liberty  and  peace,  there  sprang  up,  in  the  course  of  a 
single  century,  a  prosperity  unparalleled  in  the  annals  of  human  affairs. 

"  The  pledge  Riven  "by  Mr.  McMaster,  that '  the  history  of  the  people  shall  he 
the  chief  theme.'  is  punctiliously  and  satisfactorily  fulfilled.  He  carries  out  hie 
promise  in  a  complete,  vivid,  and  delightfnl  way.  We  should  add  that  the  liter- 
ary execution  of  the  work  is  worthy  of  the  inaefatigable  industry  and  unceasing 
vigilance  with  which  the  stores  of  historical  material  have  been  accumulated, 
weighed,  and  sifted.  The  cardinal  qualities  of  style,  lucidity,  animation,  and 
energy,  are  everywhere  present.  Seldom,  indeed,  has  a  hook,  in  which  matter 
of  substantial  value  has  been  so  happily  united  to  attractiveness  of  form,  been 
offered  by  an  American  author  to  his  fellow-citizens." — New  York  Sun. 

11  To  recount  the  marvelous  progress  of  the  American  people,  to  describe 
their  life,  their  literature,  their  occupations,  their  amusements,  is  Mr.  McMaeter's 
object.  His  theme  is  an  important  one,  and  we  congratulate  him  on  his  success. 
It  has  rarely  been  our  province  to  notice  a  book  with  so  many  excellences  and 
so  few  defects." — New  York  Herald. 

"Mr.  McMaster  at  once  shows  his  grasp  of  the  various  themes  and  his  special 
capacity  as  a  historian  of  the  people.  His  aim  is  high,  but  he  hits  the  mark." — 
New  York  Journal  of  Commerce. 

"I  have  had  to  read  a  good  deal  of  history  in  my  day,  but  I  find  so  much 
freshness  in  the  way  Professor  McMaster  has  treated  his  subject  that  it  is  quite 
like  a  new  story."— Philadelphia  Press. 

"Mr.  McMaster' s  success  as  a  writer  seems  to  us  distinct  and  decisive.  In 
the  first  place  he  has  written  a  remarkably  readable  history.  His  style  is  clear 
and  vigorous,  if  not  always  condensed.  He  has  the  faculty  of  felicitous  com- 
parison and  contrast  in  a  marked  degree.  Mr.  McMaster  has  produced  one  of 
the  most  spirited  of  histories,  a  book  which  will  he  widely  read,  and  the  enter- 
taining quality  of  which  is  conspicuous  beyond  that  of  any  work  of  its  kind." — 
Boston  Gazette. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.    APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  GEOGRAPHICAL  READER.  A  Collection  of  Geographical 
Descriptions  and  Narrations,  from  the  best  "Writers  in  English  Lit- 
erature. Classified  and  arranged  to  meet  the  wants  of  Geographical 
Students,  and  the  higher  grades  of  reading  classes.  By  James 
Johonnot,  author  of  "  Principles  and  Practice  of  Teaching."  12mo, 
cloth,  $1.25. 

"Mr.  Johonnot  has  made  a  good  hook,  which,  if  judiciously  used,  will  stop 
the  immense  waste  of  time  now  spent  in  most  schools  in  the  study  of  geography 
to  little  purpose.  The  volume  has  a  good  number  of  appropriate  illustrations, 
and  is  printed  and  bound  in  almost  faultless  style  and  taste." — National  Journal 
of  Education. 

It  is  original  and  unique  in  conception  and  execution.  It  is  varied  in  style, 
and  treats  of  every  variety  of  geographical  topic.  It  supplements  the  geograph- 
ical text-books,  and,  by  giving  additional  interest  to  the  study,  it  leads  the  pupil 
to  more  extensive  geographical  reading  and  research.  It  is  not  simply  a  collec- 
tion of  dry  statistics  and  outline  descriptions,  but  vivid  narrations  of  great  liter- 
ary merit,  that  convey  useful  information  and  promote  general  culture.  It  con- 
forms to  the  philosophic  ideas  upon  which  the  new  education  is  based.  Its 
selections  are  from  the  best  standard  authorities.  It  is  embellished  with  numer- 
ous and  appropriate  illustrations. 

A  NATURAL   HISTORY    READER,  for  Schools  and  Homes. 

Beautifully  illustrated.     Compiled  and  edited  by  James  Johonnot. 

12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  The  natural  turn  that  children  have  for  the  country,  and  for  birds  and  beasts, 
wild  and  tame,  is  taken  advantage  of  very  wisely  by  Mr.  Johonnot,  who  has  had 
experience  in  teaching  and  in  making  school-books.  His  selections  are  generally 
excellent.  Articles  by  renowned  naturalists,  and  interesting  papers  by  men 
who,  if  not  renowned,  can  put  things  pointedly,  alternate  with  serious  and 
humorous  verse.  '  The  Popular  Science  Monthly1  has  furnished  much  material. 
The  'Atlantic'  and  the  works  of  John  Burroughs  are  contributors  also.  There 
are  illustrations,  and  the  compiler  has  some  sensible  advice  to  offer  teachers  in 
regard  to  the  way  in  which  to  interest  young  people  in  matters  relating  to  na- 
ture."— New  York  Times. 

AN  HISTORICAL  READER,  for  Classes  in  Academies,  High- 
Schools,  and  Grammar-Schools.  By  Henry  E.  Shepherd,  M.  A. 
12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

"  This  book  is  one  of  the  most  important  text-books  issued  within  our  recol- 
lection. The  preface  is  a  powerful  attack  upon  the  common  method  of  teaching 
history  by  means  of  compendiums  and  abridgments.  Professor  Shepherd  has 
*  long  advocated  the  beginning  of  history-teaching  by  the  use  of  graphic  and  lively 
sketches  of  those  illustrious  characters  around  whom  the  historic  interest  of  each 
age  is  concentrated.'  This  volume  is  an  attempt  to  embody  this  idea  in  a  form 
for  practical  Use.  Irving,  Motley.  Macaulay,  Prescott,  Greene,  Fronde,  Momm- 
sen,  Guizot,  and  Gibbon  are  among  the  authors  represented ;  and  the  subjects 
treated  cover  nearly  all  the  greatest  events  and  greatest  characters  of  time.  The 
book  is  one  of  indescribable  interest.  The  boy  or  girl  who  is  not  fascinated  by 
it  must  be  dull  indeed.  Blessed  be  the  day  when  it  shall  be  introduced  into  our 
high-schools,  in  the  place  of  the  dry  and  wearisome  '  facts  and  figures '  of  the 
4  general  history '  I  "—Iowa  Normal  Monthly. 

New  York  r  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  1,  3,  &  5-Bond  Street. 


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NOTES  ON  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD.  By  Rich- 
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HISTORY  OF  OPINIONS  ON  THE  SCRIPTURAL  DOC- 
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CONTENTS.— Industry  and  Idleness ;  Twelve  Causes  of  Dishonesty; 
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Vulgarity  ;  Happiness  ;  Temperance. 

THE  BOOK  OF  JOB  :  Essays  and  a  Metrical  Paraphrase.  By 
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by  the  Rev.  T.  J.  Conant,  D.  D.     12mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

SKETCHES   AND   SKELETONS  OF  500   SERMONS.      By 

the  author  of  "  The  Pulpit  Cyclopaedia."     1  vol.,  8vo.     Cloth, 

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THE  POPULAR  SCIENCE  MONTHLY. 

COXLrCTED  BY  E.  1.  AXD  TV.  J.   TOUMAXi. 


The  Popttlap.  Seizors  Monthly  will  continue,  as  heretofore,  to  snpply 
its  readers  with,  the  results  of  the  Litest  investigation  and  the  most  valuable 
thought  in  the  various  departments  of  scientific  inquiry. 

Leaving  the  dry  and  technical  details  of  -^hich  are  of  chief  con- 

cern to  specialists,  to  the  journals  devoted  to  them,  the  jMx*-thly  deals  with 
those  more  general  and  practical  subjects  which  are  of  the  greatest  interest 
and  importance  to  the  public  at  large.  In  this  work  it  has  achieved  a  fore- 
most position,  and  is  now  the  acknowledged  organ  of  progressive  scientific 
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The  wide  range  of  its  discussions  includes,  among  other  topics : 

The  bearing  of  science  upon  education ; 

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The  phenomena  and  laws  of  the  larger  social  organizations,  with  the 
new  standard  of  ethics,  based  on  scientific  principles : 

The  subjects  of  personal  and  household  hygiene,  medicine,  and  archi- 
tecture, as  exemplified  in  the  adaptation  of  public  buildings  and  private 
houses  to  the  wants  of  those  who  use  them ; 

Agriculture  and  the  improvement  of  food-products  : 

The  study  of  man,  with  what  appears  from  time  to  time  in  the  d 
ments  of  anthropology  and  archaeology  that  may  throw  light  upon  the 
development  of  the  race  from  its  primitive  conditions. 

Whatever  of  real  advance  is  made  in  chemistry,  geography,  astronomy, 
-iology,  psychology,  botany,  zoology,  pal: soot  I  gy,  geology,  or  such 
other  department  as  may  have   been  the  field  of  research,  is  recorded 
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Special  attention  is  also  called  to  the  biographies,  with  portraits.  ;:' 
representative  scientific  men.  in  which  are  recorded  their  most  marked 
achievements  in  science,  and  the  general  bearing  of  their  work  indicated 
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