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AUTOBIOGRAPHY

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Samuel D. Gross, m.d..

D. C. L. OXON., LL.D. CANTAB , EDIN,, JEFF. COLL., UNIV. PA., EMERITUS PROFESSOR OF
SURGERY IN THE JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE OP PHILADELPHIA.

REMINISCENCES OF

HIS TIMES AND CONTEMPORARIES.

EDITED BY

Samuel VV. Gross, M.D., LL.D., late Professor of the Principles

of Surgery and Clinical Surgery in the Jefferson Medical College, and

A. Haller Gross, A.M., of the Philadelphia Bar.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOLUME L

PHILADELPHIA:
W. B. SAUNDERS,

913 Walkdt Street.
1893.

PRINTING-OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER

NOTE BY THE SURVIVING EDITOR.

In consequence of an arrangement entered into between
Mr. George Barrie and Mr. W. B. Saunders, the well-known
publisher of medical books in this city, Mr. Saunders has
become the proprietor and the publisher of the present edition
of the Autobiography of the late Professor Samuel D.
Gross.

Mr. Saunders's unusual facilities for communicating directly
with the members of the Medical and Surgical Profession in
the United States will enable him to meet the demand for this
well-known work.

Since the first copies were issued, one of the Editors, the
late Dr. Samuel W. Gross, in the midst of a life of exceptional
usefulness and of honor, has died. The surviving Editor desires
to express his gratification with the numerous and singularly
flattering notices which the book has received from periodicals
and journals both in the United States and in Europe. Few
Autobiographies or Memoirs have been the subject of criticism
so impartial and so complimentary. While the larger class of
its readers will probably be found among the members of the
profession of which Dr. Gross was so signal an ornament, still
the flowing ease of its style and the original manner in which

topics of equal interest to the layman and to the strictly pro-
fessional man are treated, must commend it to all those who
care to be informed of the trials, struggles, and successes of
one of the foremost men of his day, who, if through filial love
and pride its Editor may be permitted to quote from a criticism
of this work in the London '.'Spectator," is said to have been
"perhaps the most eminent exponent of medical science that
America has yet produced." And his Sketches of the many
distinguished men of America and Europe, whom he met in
his long and eventful career, will, as has been stated by one
of his critics, " serve as a map of contemporaneous society."

A. HALLER GROSS.

II 15 Walnut Street,

Philadelphia, Nov. 24111, 1892,

PREFACE.

In submitting to the public the Autobiography of
Dr. Samuel D. Gross, the Editors deem it due to the
memory of their Father to state that death alone prevented
him from giving to the work that careful revision which
is so noteworthy a feature of his previous productions.

A large part of the preliminary' jMemoir of Dr. GROSS
was read by the late Professor Austin Flint before the
American IMedical Association at its meeting held in
Washington in May, 1885.

The Editors tender their hearty thanks to John W.
Huff, Esq., an old friend of Dr. Gross, for valuable
assistance kindly rendered by him during the passage of
the work through the press; to GEORGE Barrie, Esq.,
the Publisher, who has spared neither expense nor trouble
to make the mechanical features of the book attractive to
the reader; and to James Beatty, Esq., for zealous ser-
vices contributed by him.

SAMUEL W. GROSS,
A. HALLER GROSS.

Philadelphia, April, 1887.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

CHAPTER I.

Object of the Work — Birth and Childhood — School-days — Amuse-
ments— Early Desire to be a Physician — Enter upon the Study of
Medicine — Turning-point in Life — Return to School — Academy
at Wilkesbarre — Study Greek through the Medium of Latin —
Dislike of Mathematics — Fond of Languages — Judge Jones's
Family — Narrow Escape from Drowning — Academy in New York
— Lawrenceville High School — Lafayette i to 25

CHAPTER IL

Choice of Profession — Study Medicine — Study French — Health
Fails — Visit Niagara Falls — Enter Jefferson Medical College —
Love of Anatomy — Faculty of the College — Graduation — Open
an Office — Translations of French Works — Practice — John D.
Godman — Sears C. Walker — Income — Marriage — Return to
Easton — Dissections — Experimental Inquiries — Goetter Trial —
James Madison Porter — Andrew Reeder — Medical Profession —
Asiatic Cholera 26 to 60

CHAPTER III.

Move to Cincinnati — Become Demonstrator of Anatomy in the
Medical College of Ohio — Made Professor of Pathological
Anatomy in Cincinnati College — Faculty — Horatio G. Jameson
— James B. Rogers — A Slip of Memory — John P. Harrison —
Landon C. Rives — W. H. McGuffey — Practice — Dissections —
Pathological Anatomy — Decline Appointment of Professorship
of Medicine in the University of Virginia and of Anatomy in
the University of New Orleans — Nicholas Longworth — Andrew

vii

viii CONTENTS.

Jackson — Lyman Beecher — Robert Lytle — Salmon P. Chase —
Timothy Walker — Archbishop Purcell — Gamaliel Bailey — Bishop
Mcllvaine — Daniel Webster — General W. H. Harrison , . 6i to ZZ

CHAPTER IV.

Made Professor of Surgery in Louisville, Kentuckj* — Reception by
the Medical Profession — The University of Louisville — Appointed
Professor of Surgery in New York — Colleagues — Return to Louis-
ville— Treatise on the Urinary Organs — Treatise on Foreign
Bodies in the Air-passages — Experiments on Dogs — Work on
Wounds of the Intestines — Other Contributions to Medical Lit-
erature while in Kentucky — Reminiscences — W. J. Graves — A
Famous Duel — George Poindexter — Baron Friedrich Ludwig
Georg Von Raumer — James P. Espy — John J. Crittenden — Mil-
lard Fillmore — The Breckinridges — James Guthrie — John Rowan
— Henry Clay 89 to 124

CHAPTER V.

Removal to Philadelphia — Professor of Surgery in the Jefferson
Medical College — Portion of my Library Burned — Introductory
Lecture — Secession of Students — War Experience — Medico-
Chirurgical Review — Found Pathological Society — System of
Surgerx' — Compensation — Notices of Work — Manual of Military
Surgery — Lives of Eminent American Physicians and Surgeons
of the Nineteenth Century — President of American Medical As-
sociation— Discourse — Address on Syphilis at Detroit — Address
on Bloodletting at Louisville — Lectures on American Medical
Literature from 1776 to 1876 — Contributions to Medical and
Surgical Literature — Membership in Medical Societies — Found
Philadelphia Academy of Surgery and Amt-rican Surgical Asso-
ciation 125 to 151

CHAPTER VI.

Professional Income and Fees — Teaching — Knowledge of Patho-
logical Anatomy — As a Practitioner, Physician, Surgeon, and
Accoucheur — Asa Writer and Author 152 to 179

CONTENTS. ix

CHAPTER VII.

My Habits — Youth, Manhood, and Old Age — Letters and Corres-
pondence— Testimonials for Patent Medicines — Pupils — Trials —
Position — Religion — Cremation — Modes of Death — Medicine —
Classics — Labors apart from Authorship 1 80 to 212

CHAPTER VIII.

Visit Europe — Berne — Albert Von Haller — Estimate of his Char-
acter and Works — Vienna — Objects of Interest — Allgemeines
Krankenhaus — Rokitansky — Vienna School of Surgery — Billroth
— Dresden — Berlin — Virchow — Von Langenbeck — Von Graefe —
University of Berlin — Ehrenberg 213 to 246

CHAPTER IX.

Frankfort-on-the-Main — Goethe — Homburg — The Kursaal — Heid-
elberg— The University — The Hirschgasse — The Castle — Instru-
ments of Torture — Chelius — Mayence — Coblentz — Ehrenbreit-
stein — Bonn — The University — Cologne — The Cathedral — Saint
Ursula — Aix-la-Chapelle — Charlemagne — Rotterdam — Amster-
dam— The Public Hospital — The Medical School — Boerhaave —
Antwerp — Rubens — Brussels — Hospitals — Vesalius . . 247 to 270

CHAPTER X.

Oxford — The Meeting of the British Medical Association — Strat-
ford-on -Avon — Cambridge — The University — Norwich — The
British Association for the Advancement of Science — The Nor-
folk and Norwich Hospital — Mr. Partridge — London Hospitals —
Leeds — York — Edinburgh — James Syme — John Brown — Sir
James Y. Simpson, Bart. — The University — Glasgow — Courts of
Justice — Norman Macleod 271 to 303

CHAPTER XI.

The Giant's Causeway — Belfast — Dublin — Trinity College — Medi-
cal Men and Hospitals of Dublin — The Royal College of Sur-
geons— The Disestablishment of the Irish Church — Sir William
R. Wilde — Sir Dominic John Corrigan, Bart. — William Stokes —

Reception after Returning to Philadelphia 304 to 320

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XII.

Second Visit to Europe — Receive Degree of D. C. L. from the Uni-
versity of Oxford — Oxford — Prince Hassan — The University —
The Museum — The Radclifife Library — Edward Bouverie Pusey —
Henry Wentworth Acland — Sir Benjamin Brodie, Bart. — London
— Presented at Court — Sir Henry Holland, Bart. — Thomas Bevill
Peacock — St. Thomas's Hospital — The Archbishop of Canter-
bury— Dawlish — Nutwell Court — Torquay — Birmingham — Lich-
field— The Shooting Season — Return to America . . 321 to 351

CHAPTER XIII.

John Tyndall — Charles Macalester — George Peabody — The Meet-
ing of the American Public Health Association — Paper on the
Factors of Disease and Death after Injuries, Parturition, and Sur-
gical Operations — Resolutions for the Establishment of a National
Bureau of Health — John Eric Erichsen — The Death of my Wife
— The Meeting of the International Medical Congress — Sir Wil-
liam Fergusson, Bart. — King's College Hospital . . 352 to 380

CHAPTER XIV.

Sad Anniversary — The Examination of Medical Students — Wash-
ington— The Senate Chamber — Baltimore — N. R. Smith — Martin
Farquhar Tupper — Operations — W. D. Lewis — What is Fame? —
Chicago — The Meeting of the American Medical Association —
Fortunes of Medical Men — Boston — University of Cambridge —
President Hayes — Jacob Bigelow — J. B. S. Jackson — Charles
Francis Adams 381 to 407

MEMOIR.

MEMOIR

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D.

Samuel D. Gross, the son of Philip and Juliana Gross,
was born near Easton, Pennsylvania, July 8th, 1805. Like
Newton, Burns, Cobden, and Whittier, he communed at
an early age with Nature and Nature's God. His child-
hood was passed on his father's farm ; and to the salutary
open-air life led by him over the hills and valleys of this
picturesque portion of Pennsylvania, combined with a
sound constitution inherited from his parents, he attrib-
uted in great measure that vigorous health, that immunity
from disease which enabled him to perform a vast amount
of intellectual labor, and to achieve a conspicuous reputa-
tion wherever Surgery is cultivated as a science, or wherever
the works of its great masters are cherished by its votaries.

A strong love of nature remained throughout his life
one of the sources of his keenest enjoyment. There were
few forest trees, few flowers with the names of which he
did not become familiar, few birds with whose notes he
was unacquainted. Probably Thoreau did not more enjoy
the varied beauties of Nature ; nor could the youthful
Audubon, with all the enthusiasm of even his Southern
temperament, have been much more sensitive to her voices
and teachings. The simple plants which he cultivated
with love and tenderness on his father's farm gave place

xiii

xiv MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

during his residence in Louisville to rare and beautiful
flowers, among wliich he loved to work and to live. No
visitor at his office during his latter years could fail to
observe a vase of these sweet-smelling emblems of refine-
ment and purity upon the table where he wrote surrounded
by the books he loved so well ; and when the days were
gradually shortening and the end of his life was near,
these "dear tokens of the earth" greeted him with their
fragrance and were loved by him to the last.

We are told that at the age of seven years Warren Hast-
ings, lying on the bank of a rivulet near the old manor
which had once belonged to his ancestors, determined that
one day he would become the owner of the estate ; and
that through all the changes of his remarkable career the
resolution made at that time so ruled him that finally,
when affluent and powerful, he became the purchaser of
Daylesford.

A similar, though more noble, ambition early took posses-
sion of young Gross. Before the age of six years — a period
of life when nearly all of those who subsequently occupy a
commanding position in the eye of the world are noted
only for empty prattle and light-hearted amusements — he
had conceived the idea of becoming a Physician. This
purpose, from which he never swerved, became so essential
a part of his being that he could no more have been untrue
to it than could the needle deflect from the pole.

Through the struggles and trials of his life this idea
dominated him. His wish was gratified. He lived to see
himself honored and beloved as one of the high priests of a
profession which he regarded as the most sacred of all call-
insjs — for which even on his death-bed he was found still
laboring. Only a few days before he died, when, greatly
prostrated by physical weakness, he had begun to realize
that his end was not far off", he corrected the proof-sheets
of two elaborate papers written with all the fire and vigor
of a mind still fresh and unimpaired.

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL I). GEOSS, M.D. xv

Even some of the games of his youthful days assisted
him in that branch of the profession to which he devoted
himself He attributed much of the accuracy of his eye
and the dexterity of his hand to the practice of pitching
quoits and pennies — games in which he was an adept.
Agassiz, it is said, owed much of his dexterity in manipu-
lation to the training which his eye and hand had acquired
in some of the plays of his childhood. It is related of him
that when a little fellow he could make well-fitting shoes
for his sisters' dolls, that he was not a bad tailor, and that
he could make a miniature water-tight barrel.

His burning ambition to be a Physician impelled young
Gross when only seventeen years of age to enter the office
of a countr}^ practitioner, where, finding that the education
which had been obtained in country schools was inadequate
to the demands which might be made upon it, he de-
termined as far as possible to remedy his defects by a
course of study at the Wilkesbarre Academy and at the
Lawrenceville High School. When nineteen years old he
entered upon the study of medicine in the office of Dr.
Joseph K. Swift, of Easton ; and afterwards he became a
matriculate of the JeflTerson Medical College and a private
student of Dr. George McClellan, the Professor of Surgery
in that institution. Few youths studied more persistently,
more systematically, or with greater self-reliance.

"One day, while a student in Swift's office," says he, "I
came across the following passage in Dorsey's Surger\', in
the chapter on Aneurism — a passage which had no little
influence upon my future professional life. 'On the 15th
of August, i8ir, I was consulted,' says Dorsey, 'by Alex-
ander Patton on account of a tumor in his right groin. . . .
It occasionally gave him severe pain, and incapacitated
him from all labor. In June last he applied to Dr. Irwin,
of Easton, the place of his residence, who instantly ap-
prised him of the nature and importance of his complaint,
and advised him to go to Philadelphia.' In pondering on

xvi MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

this passage, I asked myself the question, Why was this
man sent to Philadelphia, and not treated at Easton?
The answer was not long in coming. Because Irwin felt
incompetent or afraid to undertake the operation necessary
for his relief. From that moment I determined so to study
my profession as to be able to meet every emergency, how-
ever dijEhcult or unexpected, and, consequently, never to
send any patient away, unless he was in a hopeless con-
dition."

In 1828 young Gross received his medical degree ; and
in less than a year, having in the mean time opened an
office in Philadelphia, he had translated Bayle and Hol-
lard's General Anatomy, Hildenbrand on Typhus Fever,
Hatin's Manual of Obstetrics, and Tavernier's Operative
Surgery ; and in 1830 he published a treatise on the Anat-
omy, Physiology, and Diseases of the Bones and Joints.

Practice came slowly ; and in eighteen months, believ-
ing that he could succeed better in his old home than in
Philadelphia, he returned to Easton. There he took the
brave young wife who had consented to share his priva-
tions and his struggles, and who, during their long and
singularly happy wedded life, rejoiced with him in the
successes which from time to time crowned his efforts.

In some of his writings he deferred much to her judg-
ment ; and though he could not say of her — as John Stuart
Mill said of his wife — "all my published writings were as
much her work as mine," still Dr. Gross was often heard
to declare that he was indebted to her for many valuable
suggestions after, as it was his custom to do, he had sub-
mitted to her the manuscript of an address or valedictory
discourse. His devotion to this cultivated and noble
woman was one of the most beautiful features of his life.
Though her death in 1876 left him during the rest of his
jjilgrimage naught but a blessed memory, to that memory
he was ever constant. He could not share with another
the love which he had given to her ; and when the final

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. xvii

summons came, he was still true to the one who had filled
his heart with sunshine and happiness.

Whilst practising his profession at Easton, Dr. Gross
spent several hours a day in dissecting. He made observa-
tions on the temperature of the blood ; and a series of ex-
periments on rabbits for the purpose of throwing light on
manual strangulation. He found time also to compose a
work on descriptive anatomy, which, however, was never
published.

In 1833 he went to Cincinnati as the Demonstrator of
Anatomy in the IMedical College of Ohio. This position
he retained till 1835, when he accepted the chair of Patho-
logical Anatomy in the Medical Department of Cincinnati
College.

The hard study and the unremitting labor given to
the subject of the chair, combined with constant dissec-
tions, enabled Dr. Gross in 1839 to publish his Elements
of Pathological Anatomy, the first work on this subject
in the English language, which passed through three
editions, and which brought him fame and a large prac-
tice. "His Elements of Pathological Anatomy, issued
in 1839, in two octavo volumes of more than five hundred
pages each, did more," says Dr. Da Costa,* "to attract
attention to the subject than anything that had ever been
done in this country. The book, illustrated profusely with
wood-cuts and with several colored engravings, reached
three editions. It is a mine of learning, and its extended
references make it valuable to this day. Its merits have
been fully recognized abroad ; and on no occasion more
flatteringly than when the great pathologist, Virchow, at
a dinner given to Dr. Gross at Berlin in 1868, compli-
mented him publicly on being the author, and, pointing
to the volume, which he laid upon the table, gracefully

♦Biographical Sketch of Professor Samuel D. Gross by J. M. Da Costa, M.D.,
LL.D., 1884.

xviii MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

acknowledged the pleasure and instruction which he had
often gained from it. As another acknowledgment of its
merits, we find that soon after the publication of the
second edition the Imperial Royal Society of Vienna
made Dr. Gross an honorary member."

In 1840 Dr. Gross accepted the chair of Surgery in the
University of Louisville. There he resided for sixteen
years, with the exception of the winter of i850-'5i, which
he spent in New York, as the successor of Valentine Mott,
in the chair of Surgery in the University of that city.

A series of experiments which he made on dogs resulted
in the publication by him of his next work. An Experi-
mental and Critical Inquiry into the Nature and Treat-
ment of Wounds of the Intestines.

His treatise on Diseases of the Urinary Organs was
published in 1851 ; and his treatise on Foreign Bodies
in the Air-Passages in 1854. The latter was a pioneer
work, and has received the highest praise. "From it,"
says Dr. Da Costa, "all subsequent authors have largely
copied their facts, and of it the distinguished laryngolo-
gist, Morell Mackenzie, has declared that it is doubtful
whether it ever will be improved upon."

Besides the works mentioned Dr. Gross was a liberal
contributor to the periodical press during his residence
in the West, publishing reports of important cases, and
elaborate biographies of such men as Daniel Drake and
Ephraim McDowell.

The years which he passed in Louisville were among
the happiest of his life. Though immersed in a large and
constantly increasing practice, performing an amount of
literary and professional work that seems astounding, he
found time to cultivate close relations with the people
among whom he lived. Probably no physician was more
beloved or more trusted by his patients ; certainly few men
were more popular. Not only was his beautiful residence
the abode of that bounteous hospitality for which Ken-

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. xix

tucky is famous, but artists, scientists, and distinguished
men and women of America and from foreign climes found
within its walls a hearty welcome at reunions, in which the
strains of music mingled with flashes of wit and humor.

When in 1856 Dr. Gross had been elected Professor of
Surgery in the Jefferson Medical College, he feelingly
refers, in his introductory lecture to the students of that
college, to his regret at leaving Kentucky :

" It was pleasant to dwell in the land of Boone, of Clay,
and of Crittenden ; to behold its fertile fields, its majestic
forests, and its beautiful streams ; and to associate with its
refined, cultivated, generous-hearted, and chivalric people.
It was there that I had hoped to spend the remainder of
my days upon objects calculated to promote the honor and
welfare of its noble profession, and finally to mingle my
dust with the dust and ashes of the sons and daughters of
Kentucky. But destiny has decreed otherwise. A change
has come over my life. I stand this evening in the pres-
ence of a new people, a stranger in a strange place, and a
candidate for new favors. ' '

During the meeting of the American Medical Associa-
tion in lyouisville in 1875 the citizens vied one with an-
other in doing Dr. Gross honor. As the train in which he
was travelling neared the city and stopped at different
stations, some of the passengers would look at the hand-
some imposing figure seated in the car, and would greet in
an affectionate manner him who many years before liad
been their "beloved physician ;" and soon after his arrival
his old friends, patients, and former servants testified most
feelingly that the lapse of nearly a quarter of a centur>^ had
not dimmed their recollection of his never-failing kindness
to them in the days that were dead and gone.

When in 1879 Dr. Gross delivered in Danville the
memorial address at the dedication of the monument to
l£pliraini McDowell, Dr. Cowling presented 011 behalf of
the Kentucky State Medical Society the door-knocker of

XX MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

Dr. McDowell to Dr. Gross, and thus touchingly referred
to the estimate in which he was held by the people of
Kentucky :

"It belongs by right to you, Dr. Gross. This house-
hold genius passes most fittingly from the dearest of Ken-
tucky's dead surgeons to the most beloved of her living
sons in medicine. She will ever claim you as her son,
and will look with jealous eye upon those who would
wean you from her dear affection.

" And as this emblem which now is given to you hangs
no longer in a Kentucky doorway, by this token you shall
know that all Kentucky doorways are open at your ap-
proach. By the relief your skill has wrought ; by the
griefs your great heart has healed ; by the sunshine you
have thrown across her thresholds ; by the honor your
fame has brought her ; by the fountains of your wisdom
at which your loving children within her borders have
drunk, the people of Kentucky shall ever open to you
their hearts and homes. ' '

And when the noble mind was forever hushed in death,
Kentucky was still constant. One of her sons, a former
pupil. Dr. D. W. Yandell, wrote in his honor the beautiful
classic tribute with which this Memoir closes.

Though filled with regret at leaving his home in the
West, Dr. Gross at once received a hearty welcome at the
hands of the medical profession and of the citizens of
Philadelphia. It was a matter of pride with him to lec-
ture in the institution in which twenty-eight years before
he had been a student. New friendships were formed,
new ties were made, new tendrils were put forth, and he
soon became as popular in the profession and out of it as
he had been in Louisville.

All his leisure not devoted to his college duties, to the
cares of a large oflfice and consultation practice, to the
editorship, with Dr. Richardson, of the North American
Medico-Chirurgical Review — the successor of the Louis-

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. xxi

ville Medical Review — and to the preparation with Dr. Da
Costa of the third edition of the Pathological Anatomy,
was now given to the composition of his System of Sur-
gery. The first edition of this work appeared in 1859 ; and
the sixth in 1882, in which year he severed his connection
with the Jefferson Medical College. His successors were
his son, Dr. Samuel W. Gross, and Dr. John H. Brinton.

In 1 861 appeared his Manual of Militar}^ Surgery- ; and
in the same year he published The Lives of Eminent
American Physicians and Surgeons of the Nineteenth
Century, for which he prepared the memoirs of Ephraim
McDowell, Daniel Drake, and John Syng Dorsey. The
enumeration, however, of his contributions to medical and
surgical literature, before and after he left Kentucky, would
greatly exceed the limits appropriate to the present sketch.
Suffice it to say that he was never idle. At the Compli-
mentary Commemoration Dinner given to him in 1879, ^^^
said, "My conviction has always been that it is far better
for a man to wear out than to rust out. ' '

And so Dr. Gross grew in honor, crowned with the
highest professional triumphs, devoting himself to his
office practice, to writing, and to the pleasures of litera-
ture, cheered and solaced by the love of his devoted chil-
dren and grandchildren.

Early in the winter of i883-'84 his constitution began
to fail, and his family became seriously alarmed at his
symptoms. In addition to dyspepsia there was every in-
dication of a fatty heart. But Dr. Gross did not despond,
nor did his work cease. He thought he had still much to
do for the good of his profession ; and though he frequently
expressed to the members of his family the belief that he
had not many months to live, he went, accompanied by
one of his daughters, on March 31st, 1884, to Atlantic City,
cherishing the hope that his health might be sufficiently
restored to enable him to take part at the meeting of the
American Surgical Association and of the American Medi-

xxii MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

cal Association in Washington in May. This hope was
never realized. In a few days he returned to Philadel-
phia completely worn out, and suffering with nausea. His
son, Dr. Samuel W. Gross, and his friend. Dr. Da Costa, did
all that skill and affection could suggest. Knowing the
intimate relations which existed between Dr. Gross and
myself, they and the members of his family thought that,
even thoug^h I might not be able to render much assist-
ance during an illness which day by day seemed to in-
crease, my presence might cheer and comfort him. And
so it was that I paid several visits to my old friend as the
shadows began to deepen around him. His resolute mind
knew no such thing as fear. His only regret was that
of leaving forever the family which he loved so dearly,
and which idolized him, and of leaving undone much
professional work.

Each visit paid by me found him weaker than the pre-
vious visit ; and finally on the 5th day of May, 1884, as I
stood at the bedside of the one who, above all his brethren,
was held in honor and esteem by the medical profession of
America, it was but too apparent that the labors of Samuel
D. Gross had ended, and that he was near the close of his
earthly life. I left his bedside to be present, on the follow-
ing day, at the annual meeting of the American Medical
Association in Washington. The President of the Asso-
ciation in his opening address referred to the absence of
Professor Gross, who, in a letter which was one of the last,
if not the very last, written before his decease, requested
that an invitation be given by the American Medical Asso-
ciation to the International Medical Congress to hold its
meeting in this country in 1887. The announcement of
his serious illness called forth a quick and warm response
from the members of the Association. It was a remarkable
coincidence that at the very hour the Association was en-
g:a2:ed in a discussion as to the manner in which heartfelt
sympathy should be expressed and conveyed to Professor

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. xxiii

Gross — shortly before one o'clock p. m. on May 6tli, 1884 —
he was in the article of death. The telegram which carried
the resolutions adopted by the Association reached its desti-
nation but a short time after he had breathed his last.

On the announcement to the Association of the death
of Professor Gross, a committee was appointed to ' ' take
such action as it might deem proper. " * As the chairman
of this committee, with the approval of my fellow-mem-
bers, I submitted to the Association some reflections on a
life memorable for services in behalf of medicine and the
medical profession ; on a life precious as an example ; and
on a character which inspired esteem and affection.

I do not propose to write a biography of Professor Gross.
This has been done by able hands, f Nor would I have my
reflections regarded purely in the light of a eulogy. My
desire is to contemplate his life and character from the
vantage-ground of a long and intimate personal friendship.
Disclaiming any attempt at rhetorical efforts in the way of
paneg\Tic, I will survey his life and character with reference
to his long and preeminently successful professional career,
and to the qualities which distinguished him as a man.

My friendship with Professor Gross commenced when
we were colleagues in the Medical Department of the
University of Louisville in 1852. Friendship ripened
quickly into close intimacy, which continued without for
an instant a shadow of a difference up to his death. We
were more than friends. Esteem and affection are terms
which, although superlatively qualified, express inade-
quately my attachment to him. I loved him. The senti-
ment of love, that divine attribute of humanity, was I

*The members of the committee were as follows: Drs. Austin Flint, T. G.
Richarfison, L. A. Sayre, John H. Packard, F. II. Hamilton, Moses Gunn,
W. T. Briggs, and I. M. Hays.

t A Memoir by I. M. Hays, M. D., American Journal of the Medical Scicnci-s,
Julv. 1S84. A Biographical Sketch by J. M. Da Costa, M. I)., LL. D., December
iglh, 1884. A Sketch by J. Ewing Mears, M.D., 1885.

xxiv MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

believe reciprocal. I can, therefore, as I think, without
presumption, view his life and character with an insight
embracing the feelings, aims, and motives underlying ex-
ternal appearance and actions.

The life of Professor Gross, from the beginning to the
end of his long professional career, was a life of work —
work as a student, as a writer, as a teacher, and as a practi-
tioner. From first to last he was a diligent student. If in
his advancing and advanced years he held tenaciously to
opinions previously formed, it was not from lack of know-
ledge covering recent views, but because they failed to
subvert his belief. To hold fast to his belief after due
deliberation was a strong mental characteristic. His was
not a mind to be carried away by every wind of doctrine.
He may have been open to the charge of undue tenacity
of convictions. If so, it was not from a pride of per-
sonal opinions, but from a reluctance to relinquish aught
which he had been led to believe was true. Conservatism
entered largely into his mental constitution. His mind
rebelled asrainst immature innovations. Yet no one at
heart was more desirous than he for progress in medical
knowledge and improvements in its practical applications.

A few months before his death I was present with him
at a consultation in a case which involved certain surgical
questions. He entered fully into a discussion of these and
of kindred topics which the case suggested. Associated in
the consultation was a comparatively young surgeon who
was a skilful operator, and eminent for his knowledge of
the literature of surgery. He afterward expressed his ad-
miration at the familiarity of Professor Gross with the
latest contributions to surgical knowledge not only in
our own language but in that of Germany and of France.
The last edition of his great work on Surgery, published
but seventeen months before his death, is remarkable as
showing a thorough acquaintance with contemporaneous
publications, bibliographical and periodical, relating to

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. xxv

the Surgical Department of Medicine. His life-work
exemplified the motto, "once a medical student always a
medical student" — a motto which all who aspire to true
success in the profession of medicine will do well to adopt.

Professor Gross, as already seen, commenced the prac-
tice of literary composition at the beginning of his pro-
fessional life. He was a voluminous writer. His vaca-
tions were infrequent and generally of brief duration. He
was always engaged either in writing or in making prep-
arations to write one of his various contributions to medi-
cal literature. The six editions of his System of Surgery
represent an immensity of labor.

From his life may be learned the importance of early
practice to those who aspire to authorship. How many
who cherish such an aspiration in the dim future remain
content with present inaction ! Continued procrastination
is equivalent to indefinite postponement, and the latter to
inability. The art of composition, in addition to ambition
and capacity, requires practice, and practice comes from
love of that kind of work. Authors in medicine do not
spring like Minerva in full armor from the head of Jove.

Another lesson which his life teaches is that great lit-
erary labors may be performed in conjunction with other
occupations which are irregular, time-consuming, and
claiming precedence. Under how different circumstances
are these labors performed by the medical practitioner and
teacher as compared with those who make literature a
profession ! The practice of medicine often leaves but
few hours of leisure. They can rarely be counted upon,
and to systematize them is seldom possible. Moreover,
medical practice engrosses not only the time, but the
thoughts and feelings of the practitioner. How was Pro-
fessor Gross able to perform so vast an amount of literary
work? By the use of whatever hours could be appro-
priated without the neglect of professional, social, or do-
mestic duties, and by utilizing moments which would

xxvi MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

otherwise be lost. During the evenings or the portions of
evenings which would be appropriated for study or writing
he was at home only to his intimate friends, and they
were considerate enough to disturb him but seldom. A
large part of his writings, as he assured me, was composed
in his carriage while driving to see his patients. And his
children relate that during his residence in Louisville he
always took one of them with him in his carriage when
visiting patients several miles from the city, and that on
these occasions they were often surprised to hear him talk
aloud for fifteen minutes at a time. ' ' What are you doing,
father?" "Oh, nothing but lecturing to my students, or
writing a page of a book," he replied with a smile. The
thoughts thus given utterance to, if intended for a book,
were reduced to writing the evening of his return to the
city. The results of this system of daily industry would
seem incredible to one not prepared to form an estimate
by observation or personal experience.

Professor Gross resolved at the outset of his professional
life to become a Medical Teacher. Is not this true of
most of those who have been eminently successful in ac-
quiring the art of teaching? Observation shows that few
who begin late in life attain to much success. In many re-
spects Professor Gross was a model teacher. As a speaker
he was fluent, deliberate, clear, and emphatic. His hearers
could not but feel that his object was to instruct, not to
excite admiration for his own attainments and skill. He
had the faculty of appreciating the kind of information to be
communicated to medical students by oral teaching, and of
knowing how to communicate it. Herein lie the secret
and the popularity of the successful teacher. The per-
sonal appearance of Professor Gross in the lecture-room
was most prepossessing. His tall commanding figure, his
clear voice, his features beaming with intelligence and
animation, his zealous manner — all contributed to render
his teachings effective. He had that magnetism which

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. xxvii

is a gift invaluable to a speaker. Apart from these advan-
tages, his preeminent success was an outcome of his love
of the labor and of a deep sense of the responsibility which
the duties of a teacher involve. As an evidence of the
latter I quote the words with which he concluded his
inaugural address on entering upon the duties of Professor
of Surgery in the Jefferson Medical College : ' ' Whatever
of life, and of health, and of strength remains to me, I
hereby, in the presence of Almighty God and of this large
assemblage, dedicate to the cause of my Alma ]\Iater, to
the interests of Medical Science, and to the good of my
fellow-creatures." *

As a practitioner, the characteristics of Professor Gross,
irrespective of his ability and skill in medicine and sur-
gery, were attentiveness and a deep interest in his cases,
conjoined with geniality and kindliness. These character-
istics were in harmony with self-respect. He neither
belonged to the bullying nor to the cajoling class of prac-
titioners. His face and manner brought into the sick-room
beatitude. In this aspect his professional life might well
be held up as a model for imitation.

Turning from the life-picture of Professor Gross in its
professional aspects, the contemplation of his character as
a man awakens higher sentiments than admiration. As a
student, author, teacher, and practitioner he was grand.
But in him there was not that incongruity so often pain-
fully conspicuous between the outward and the inner man.
We are constrained to admire the achievements of his in-
tellect, but the excellence of his heart inspired affection
and love.

Sensitiveness and tenderness he had in a marked degree.
In the performance of his professional duties these were
held in complete control by the force of his will ; but
there were occasions when his feelings could not be kept

* Quoted from the Biographical Sketch by J. M. Da Costa, M.D., LL. D.

xxviii MEMOIR OF SAMUEL £>. GROSS, M.D.

in restraint, even in the presence of other than his intimate
friends.

The death of Daniel Drake took place during a winter
session of the College at Louisville. Dr. Drake and he
had been associated as colleagues, and they were warmly
attached friends. Dr. Gross attempted to announce to the
class the death of his friend who had been recently con-
nected with the College. He had scarcely commenced
when his feelings overcame him ; his utterance was pre-
vented by audible sobbing; and he was obliged to leave
the lecture-room.

His kindness toward every one with whom he was
brousfht into contact was a noticeable trait of his char-
acter. There was no appearance of pseudo-dignity, nor
of the cold reserve of self-conceit. That he was gratified
by the approbation of others, and pleased by the honors
which were showered upon him, he made no effort to con-
ceal. He was, however, as desirous of honorable estima-
tion for his friends as for himself. He was ever alive to
opportunities to promote the welfare and reputation of
those to whom he stood in friendly relations. He was
prompt to encourage worthy efforts, in the way of con-
tributions to medical knowledge, by those with whom he
was personally unacquainted. Many a writer, a stranger
to him, has been surprised by a note from him expressing
his gratification and kind wishes. Professor Gross was a
constant attendant upon the meetings of the American
Medical Association, and how many can recall with
pleasure his benignant smile and his cordial salutations !
All who have known him will remember the quiet playful
humor associated with his kindly disposition. His badi-
nage was of a nature to enliven, but never to offend or to
cause pain. Sarcasm and ridicule had no place in his
discourse ; nor was his conversation profane or unclean.

His home was open to all who had any claim upon his
attentions. He was considerate and generous alike to the

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. xxix

giiest who was renowned in letters at home and abroad,
and to the young physician and the medical student. As
has been said by Froude, "Nowhere is a man known better
than in his own family. No disguise is possible there ; and
he whom father and mother, brother and sister love, we
may be sure has deserved to be loved." No father was
ever kinder, no husband more aflfectionate. They who
are privileged to enter this circle are blessed with sweet
remembrances which must now take the place of those
social pleasures that death has interrupted.

The character of Professor Gross was full and round.
It had no glaring defects. It was not angular or distorted.
He had quick, strong impulses ; but they were generally
right, and he was not led astray by them if their tendency
was otherwise. He was fond of amusements and rational
conviviality ; but his life affords no sanction of immoderate
devotion to pleasure. He was temperate in all things
without asceticism or fanaticism. He had a frank nature
and was open-handed, but not improvident. He was gen-
erous as regards his professional services whenever circum-
stances called for the exercise of generosity.

Probably no more correct estimate of Dr. Gross could be
given than that which is taken from the Memoir by Dr. I. ]\I.
Hays in the American Journal of the Medical Sciences :
"Dr. Gross's majestic form and dignified presence, his
broad brow and intelligent eye, his deep, mellow voice,
and benignant smile, his genial manner and cordial greet-
ing, remain indelibly impressed upon the memory of all
who knew him. He was a man of deep mind and broad
views, and he was a model of industry and untiring zeal.
He always had some literary work in hand, and he was in
the habit of rising early in the morning, generally at six
o'clock, and accomplishing considerable writing before
breakfast. Plis style was vigorous and pure, and the
amount of work he accomplished was simply immense.
It is safe to say that no previous medical teacher or author

XXX MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D.

on this continent exercised such a widespread and com-
manding influence as did Professor Gross. His writings
have been most learned and voluminous, and his classes
among the largest that have ever been collected in this
country. As a citizen he was public-spirited and influen-
tial, and he always most jealously guarded the esprit de
corps of his own profession. In every project to advance
its interests or to protect or honor any of its deserving
members he was foremost. On account of the universally
recognized eminence of his authority as a surgeon he was
frequently called into court as an expert to testify in mal-
practice suits, and he was ever ready cheerfully to give his
time, knowledge, and influence in maintaining the right ;
and he never thought any trouble too great to aid an un-
fortunate professional brother. He took a deep interest,
too, in the struggles and success of young men, born per-
haps of his own experience, and he was always ready to
assist them by his counsel and advice."

It was my privilege to see him repeatedly during the
last days of his life. Feeble as he was, his cheerfulness,
his inclination to humor, and his hospitable attentions did
not leave him. He talked with interest of the meeting of
the American Medical Association, which was near at hand,
and of the International Medical Congress which was to
meet at Copenhagen in a few weeks. He expressed regret
that he could not be present at these meetings. In answer
to a question of his friend and former colleague, Professor
Richardson, "What message do you wish to send to the
members of the American Medical Association ?' ' he said,
"Give them my love." He manifested pleasure in the
announcement, shortly before his death, that the University
of Edinburgh and the University of Pennsylvania had con-
ferred on him the degree of Doctor of Laws. He declared
that he had no desire to outlive capability for work and
usefulness. He died without much suffering, and with all
the devoted members of his family around his bed.

MEMOIR OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. xxxi

The post-mortem examination, which was conducted by
Dr. Da Costa, showed that Dr. Gross had labored under
marked gastric catarrh. There were irregular thickening
of the mucous membrane of the stomach, and fatty heart.
The right kidney contained a large cyst. The brain
weighed forty-eight ounces. In accordance with the in-
structions contained in his will, the body of Dr. Gross,
after a strictly private funeral service on l\Iay 7th, was
taken to Washington, Pennsylvania, and cremated. On
Sunday, May nth, the ashes were deposited in Woodlands
Cemetery next to the coffin of his wife.

The property of Dr. Gross save a few legacies was divided
equally among his four children. His wet preparations,
diagrams, and museum were bequeathed to the Jefferson
Medical College. He left his medical librar\^, numbering
over five thousand volumes, to the Philadelphia Academy
of Surgery. To this institution he also bequeathed the sum
of five thousand dollars, the interest of which is to be paid
every five years to the author of the best essay on a subject
connected with Surgical Patholog>'. The marble bust of
Dr. Gross now graces the hall of the College of Physicians.

Rarely has the loss of a medical man been so keenly felt
by the community in which he lived or throughout the
country. Telegrams and letters of condolence and resolu-
tions of sympathy transmitted by various medical and sur-
gical organizations in different States testified to the love
and respect with which the memory of Dr. Gross was
cherished.

So passed away, having nearly reached the age of four-
score years, one whom all delighted to honor. His physical
strength was not greatly impaired until up to a short time
before his death, and his mental faculties were maintained
to the last. We shall see him no more in this world. But his
life-work and his character death cannot destroy. These re-
main a priceless legacy to the profession which he loved, and
which will ever hold his memory in grateful remembrance.

" IN MEMORIAM.

WITHIN THIS URN LIE THE ASHES OF

SAMUEL D. GROSS,

A MASTER IN SURGERY.

His life, which neared the extreme limits of the Psalmist, was one unbroken
process of laborious years.

He filled chairs in four Medical Colleges in as many States of the Union
and added lustre to them all.

He recast Surgical Science, as taught in North America, formulated anew its
Principles, enlarged its domain, added to its art, and imparted fresh impetus to
its study.

He composed many Books, and among them

A SYSTEM OF SURGERY,

Which is read in different tongues, wherever the Healing Art is practised.

With a great intellect, carefully trained and balanced, he aimed with undi-
vided zeal at the noble end of lessening human suffering and lengthening
human life, and so rose to the highest position yet attained in Science by any of
his countrymen.

Resolute in truth, he had no fear; yet he was both tolerant and charitable.

Living in enlightened fellowship with all laborers in the world of Science,
he was greatly honored by the learned in foreign lands, and deeply loved at
home.

BEHIND THE VEIL OF THIS LIFE THERE IS A MYSTERY WHICH HE
PENETRATED ON THE

SIXTH DA V OF MA Y, 1884.

His Memory

Shall exhort and his Example shall encourage and persuade those who come
after him to emulate deeds which, great in themselves, were all crowned by the
milk-white flower of

A STAINLESS LIFE."

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

2 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

German descent, their grandparents having emigrated, as
early as the seventeenth century, from the Lower Palati-
nate. Many of the Pennsylvania Germans who had come
from that region at about the same period settled in
Lancaster, Chester, Montgomery, Bucks, and Northamp-
ton counties. My father, Philip Gross, was highly dis-
tinguished for his integrity, for the elegance of his farm,
and for the beauty of his horses, which were amongst
the finest in the country. The farm embraced two
hundred acres of the best land, in a high state of cul-
tivation, with an excellent orchard, famed for its good
fruit. My father was a tall, handsome man, with light-
blue eyes, a well-shaped mouth, a neatly-shaved face,
and a high bald head. He was of a kind, generous dis-
position. His moral character was cast in the finest
mould ; he was popular with his neighbors, by whom he
was much respected as an upright citizen. During the
war of the Revolution, which occurred in the maturity
of his manhood, he spent his time and money freely
in the service of the Government, in connection with the
Quartermaster's Department, at Valley Forge and other
points in Eastern Pennsylvania. Of his religious convic-
tions, if he had any, I am ignorant. All that I remember
is that he was brought up, as his parents had been, in the
Lutheran Church. He died in November, 1813, at the age
of fifty-six, when I was in my ninth year. He had long
been an invalid, and was finally seized with apoplexy,
which proved fatal in a few days. He was buried at
Salem Church, two miles from his residence.

My mother, whose maiden name was Brown, survived
my father many years, dying in March, 1853, at the ad-
vanced age of eighty-six. She was nearly all her life a
victim of asthma. She was a woman of a noble, tender,
and loving heart, a most excellent wife and mother. She
was a devoted member of the Lutheran Church, and spent
most of her later years in the perusal of her Bible and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 3

other religious works. In truth, she was a most pure and
exemplary Christian, full of faith in the promises of the
Redeemer. To her good training I am indebted, under
Providence, for the moral part of my character. Her
early advice and admonition, prompted by a heart that
never knew any guile or deceit, served to guide me through
the thorny paths of bo}-hood and youth free from the vices
which so easily beset us at those tender periods of our
existence. It was she who taught me to revere religion,
to love my neighbor, and to respect the laws. No one who
has not experienced it can fully appreciate the influence
which a mother's precepts and example exert upon the
character of a child. It is incomparably greater than that
of the father ; it has something in it so pure and holy that
it associates her in his mind with all that is good and lovely
in our nature. The child looks upon her as a guardian
angel, who watches by day and by night ever>' step that
he takes, every word he utters, every action he performs,
and who is ever ready to applaud or to chide him, accord-
ing to the conduct he exhibits. So true is all this that
it may be assumed, as an axiom in morals, that a boy
who has had a good and devoted mother can never be
a bad man. His conscience would not permit it, despite
the worst cerebral and mental organization. It is ever
present to recall the image of the fond mother. It consti-
tutes a shield and a buckler, which protect him from the
bad influences by which he is surrounded, and which are
so peculiarly trying to the young and inexperienced.

I had two sisters and three brothers. My brother, the
Rev. Joseph B. Gross, was for many years a clergyman of
the Lutheran Church, a man of varied learning, unusual
intelligence, and of very respectable talents. He has writ-
ten a number of works, the great aim of which has been
to set forth the origin and progressive development of re-
ligious ideas and worship among mankind ; to point out
the fallacies as well as the evil tendencies of numerous so-

4 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

called orthodox articles of faith ; to vindicate and enforce
the true teachings and nnadulterated principles of the Gos-
pel ; to suggest and inculcate various social and political
reforms ; and to introduce to the notice of the public vari-
ous interesting and important historical and scientific facts
for the greater enlightenment of the people.

Reared as I was in the countr>^, my childhood was ex-
empt from all the vices and allurements which so con-
stantly beset the life of a boy brought up in a city.
My only companions were a few lads in the immediate
vicinity of my father's residence, who, like myself,
were brought up in ' ' the fear and admonition of the
Lord," and whose chief amusements were of a perfectly
innocent character. I had naturally a great horror of
everything that was vicious or immoral. My ' ' conscien-
tiousness," as the phrenologists term it, was highly de-
veloped. My timidity was remarkable, and followed me,
often most cruelly, late into life. In my boyish days,
and even after I had become a student of medicine, I
rarely spoke to any one older than myself without
blushing. ]\Iy early habits no doubt greatly contributed
to bring about and keep up this painful feeling. My
father, although he died comparatively young, was free
from vice and gave me a good constitution — one which,
combined with prudence as respects my mode of living, has
enabled me to do an enormous amount of work as a prac-
titioner, a writer, and a lecturer, and which has carried
me, thus far safely, into my seventy-first year. I thank
God that during my early days I enjoyed the advantages
of pure country air and of a pure country life !

My parents had a perfect appreciation of the importance
of mental training, and accordingly embraced every oppor-
tunity to send me to school. I was not seven years of age
when I entered upon this task — a task which no boy ever
detested more than I did. My recollection of my early
school-days is very vivid. The schoolhouse — a log cabin —

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 5

was nearly one mile from our house, and the road which
led to it was far from pleasant. In bad weather the
walking was disagreeable, and my brother and myself
often sat, despite the care of our parents, the greater part
of the day in damp shoes and stockings. Notwithstanding
this we were quite healthy. The schoolhouse stood in the
midst of a beautiful grove of maple and oak trees, which
served at the same time as our playground. Ball was the
common amusement before the opening of the morning
exercises, and also during the midday recess. It was a
sport of which I was always very fond, and I therefore
often left home at an early hour in the morning to in-
dulge in it before the ringing of the bell. IMy compan-
ions were the children of the neighborhood, mostly con-
siderably older than myself, with none of whom I was
ver>' intimate. I had not been long in the spelling-book
before the Old Testament, in which every member of
the class was expected to read a verse, was placed in
my hands. When my turn came I was always in a state of
trepidation, for I rarely knew my part, being much more
intent upon sport than upon study. I had balked and
stammered over my lessons for several weeks, when all at
once, much to the surprise of the teacher and my class-
mates, my mind seemed to be unlocked, and I read with
the greatest ease, pronouncing the proper jaw-breaking
names with wonderful accuracy for one so young and so
shy. From that time I began to take more interest in my
studies, and to tliink less about play.

The methods of punishment in vogue in this school and
in similar contemporaneous establislimcnts in the surround-
ing countr>', although they have been long obsolete, are
worthy of mention here, as serving to show one of the pe-
culiarities of that period. They were three in number,
and I shall never forget the horror which at least two of
them inspired in my mind. One was a pair of large leather
spectacles ; the second a red cap suspended from the ceiling ;

6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and the third a veritable rod, composed of hazelwood. The
last was nothing in comparison with the other two. To
whisper to one's next neighbor was an offence ; to talk
aloud or laugh was a crime, sure to be visited with a mes-
sage from the leather spectacles. It was not often that I
received this missive, but on several occasions it was, much
to my horror, perched upon my nose. The red cap was
suspended over my head but once, and, as I have often
since been told by my brother, two years and a half my
senior, it made me cut a most sorry figure, with a sad,
downcast countenance, indicative of profound shame and
mortification. My brother's own feelings were deeply
wounded. The cause of my punishment was the utterance
of a " naughty word, ' ' the import of which I did not, at
the time, at all comprehend. Of the rod I had no personal
taste. After the red cap affair my conduct greatly im-
proved, and I was never afterwards summoned to the
teacher's desk. The name of this worthy, whom I occa-
sionally met after my entrance into the medical profession,
was Seiple, naturally a very amiable man, but a rigid
disciplinarian.

I cannot say whether it is still the custom, as it was in
my early days, for children, as they trudge along to
school, to take off" their hats and to make their obeisance
whenever they meet a grown person. In the winter, snow-
balling was a universal practice, both among boys and
girls, and it was not uncommon for boys not connected
with the school, as they passed along, to be severely pelted,
half a dozen urchins perhaps setting upon them at one
time.

In two instances two young fellows, who were in love
with the same girl, engaged for a long time in a hand-to-
hand fight almost every evening after the school was dis-
missed. As these rencounters occurred on the highway,
the teacher was powerless ; it is true, he took them to task
about it, and threatened dismissal. Things went on in

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 7

this way until one evening one of the young scamps threw
a handful of ashes into the other's eyes ; this was followed
the next morning by the peremptory expulsion of both.
The young girl, a pretty little blonde, the bone of this
contention, seemed to enjoy the fun amazingly. What
ultimately became of her I never learned.

The morning exercises were generally opened with the
singing of a short hymn, or with a brief prayer. In some
of the schools the children recited in common, producing
thus a jarring, buzzing noise, which fell harshly upon
the ear, and was in every way objectionable, as tending
to cause confusion and to assist in concealing ignorance.

After the death of my father the old homestead was sold,
and my mother moved into a small rented house a few
miles off — a maternal uncle, who had taken a fancy to me,
taking charge of me. He was a good-natured man, not
distinguished for any special quality, without children, and
always very kind to me. During my sojourn with him my
chief occupations were to go to school in the winter, to snare
rabbits in the autumn, to shoot birds with a bow-gun in
the spring, to pitch quoits and play ball, and to play cards
in the long winter nights with him and with his neighbors.
As he lived several miles from the nearest church, it did
not often fall to my lot to attend divine worship ; and yet,
strange to say, notwithstanding many temptations, I never
consciously did a mean thing. I had naturally a high
moral sense, and an utter detestation of misconduct and
crime. I was known throughout the neighborhood as an
honest, steady boy, so sober, thoughtful, and quiet as to
have earned, at a very early age, the sobriquet of "Judge."
At play I was always uncommonly active, and there were
few lads of my years who excelled me in manly exercises.
Of quoits I was extremely fond, and if I had engaged in
that kind of amusement as a means of livelihood, I am sure
I should have made money at it. I was, in fact, an expert
in it. Pitching pennies was another occupation to which I

8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

was much devoted, and in which no youth of my age in the
neighborhood excelled me. Pitching for "keeps" was al-
ways very exciting, and never failed to be attended with
advantage. Even now, at the distance of half a century, I
can most vividly recall many of the very spots which served
as the arenas of this agreeable pastime. One hundred and
fifty to two hundred pennies were not unfrequently clus-
tered around the ' ' meg' ' at a time, and formed too great a
bulk to be removed in one handful. To pick up the
' ' heads' ' was most exciting sport, not unlike that which a
lucky sportsman experiences in bagging his game.

One of the earliest acts of kindness shown me by my
imcle was a present of a "bow-gun," in the exercise of
which I became an adept, both in target-shooting and
in the killing of birds. Holidays were more or less
given up to this kind of amusement, generally in com-
pany with some of the boys in the vicinity. Many a bird
fell a victim to my deadly aim, the thrush in particular,
as he hopped about among the briers by the fence side ;
sometimes a woodpecker, and now and then a robin, a jay,
or a catbird.

These various exercises were not without benefit to me
in after life in the practice of my profession, inasmuch as
they served to impart precision to the eye and hand, com-
pelling them to move in concert with each other, so neces-
sary in handling a knife in performing operations. Pitch-
ing quoits is particularly useful in this respect, and should
be diligently cultivated by young men destined for a pro-
fession in which manual dexterity and great accuracy of
eye are essential elements.

As I grew older I laid aside my bow-gun for the shot-
gim, and "gunning," as it is called, was for many years a
favorite sport with me. Davy Crockett, it has been said,
could bring down any squirrel from the highest tree ; my
accomplishments never extended so far, though my shot
often performed its mission with unerring effect. I never

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 9

killed a deer or a fox, and I was never engaged in that
very animating sport known as bear-hunting.

In the autumn a regular part of my occupation was rab-
bit-snaring, an art of which I was passionately fond, and
in which I usually did a good business, considering that
rabbits were not particularly numerous in the neighbor-
hood. The season generally began about the middle of
October, when the foliage was pretty well off the trees, and
terminated about the close of November. An adjoining
wood thickly studded with underbrush always served as
the field of my operations. After the snares were set the
visits were invariably made early the next morning, so that
I could return in time for breakfast. It was seldom that I
brought home more than two or three rabbits, and some-
times I came back without any. On rare occasions the
animal would be found alive, his hind leg instead of the
neck having been caught in the noose, a circumstance
which always greatly enhanced the excitement. In the
winter, when the ground was covered with snow, I some-
times "treed'* a rabbit, and smoked him out of his lodg-
ings. The labor required to accomplish this feat was often
very considerable, and was generally the more exciting, as
it was nearly alwa}'S performed by several boys, who vied
one with another for the possession of the prize.

I do not know whether rabbit-snaring is still practised
or not. To me it was a most delightful and healthful
occupation. The process is a simple one. The whole
apparatus consists of a stick of live underwood, a piece of
twine two feet and a half long, a cylinder of wood with a
part of an apple fastened on the end, and half a dozen short,
slender twigs placed circularly in the ground to keep the
noose extended. The rabbit, attracted by the fragrance of
the apple, is strung up the moment he touches it, being
thus speedily and unceremoniously strangled by the re-
bound of the stick which holds the cord.

During my early boyhood one of my favorite amuse-

lO AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

ments was liiintiiig birds' uests in my father's orchard,
which, although not very extensive, embraced many fine
trees. These nests were alwa}'s appropriated by the first
finder, who carefully watched them, and afforded the
birds every possible protection during the hatching season.
Sometimes disputes arose between my brothers and myself
respecting the ownership, but these were generally amicably
adjusted, the rights of the original discoverer being always
scrupulously respected. The occupants of the orchard were
the dove, bluebird, robin, wren, woodpecker, and Balti-
more oriole, whose nest hung literally in the air. Of course,
no one could approach. No gun was ever heard in the or-
chard, and the consequence was that all the birds were un-
usually tame.

I visited this orchard fifty years after I had left it as a
boy. All its beauty had disappeared. Only eleven apple
trees remained to tell the sad story, and they were gray
and hoary with the frosts of many winters, full of dead
branches, and without a sign of fruit. They had passed
the period of bearing, and were in the sear and yellow leaf
of autumn, the dilapidated survivors of a former generation,
sad emblems of the frailty and decay of human life ! The
very house in which I was born had disappeared ; the
grand barn and all the outhouses were gone, and one small
stable alone stood to mark the spot, near which was our
daily playground. Even the avenue leading from the
main road to the old house, lined on each side in my early
boyhood with cherry and Lombardy poplar trees, was no
longer visible. The little wood which served as my garden
was utterly effaced. What rendered the visit more sad
and impressive was that, on the day on which it was
made, early in October, not a human being was on the
premises, the residents being in attendance upon a funeral
in the neighborhood.

Fighting humble-bees, wasps, hornets, and yellow-jackets
is a favorite pursuit with all boys on farms, and of this

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

kind of work I did my share in my childish days, receiving
many a sting as the reward of my temerity and cruelty. A
swollen lip, cheek, or eyelid was of common occurrence.
Of all these insects, none sting more ferociously than the
hornet and yellow-jacket, especially during the procreating
season. The honey of the humble-bee was a poor compen-
sation for the suifering thus endured. Hornets' nests were
usually assailed with stones ; the others with sticks and
clubs. It seems to me as if I could still hear their angry
buzzing, whining sounds, as they sailed in straight lines to
revenge themselves upon their assailants. These were
cruel sports, certainly, and yet they were perhaps, in view
of the rapid multiplication of these insects, not without
their value.

Of fishing I was excessively fond as a boy, although I
never had much luck ; and after I grew up I rarely in-
dulged in it, believing that the definition of the great lexi-
cographer is not without its significance — " A bait and a
hook at one end and a fool at the other. ' ' On two occa-
sions I spent a whole night in "gigging," as it is called,
in company with some neighboring boys, and succeeded in
carr\dng off a goodly number of the finny tribe, dazed
by our torchlights, constructed of the bark of the birch
tree. It was fine sport, carried on in a hot summer's night,
standing often up to the waist in the water, and excited to
the highest pitch by surrounding events, the merry laugh,
and the recital of a good story.

Among the books which formed my uncle's library, those
in which I took the greatest interest were the Bible, ^sop's
Fables, almanacs, and some volumes of geography, his-
tor>', and romance. Of these books, my favorites were
the Bible, especially the Old Testament, and ^sop's
Fables. The latter was an illustrated edition, and served
to beguile many a lonely hour. Among my father's books
was one on the Witches of the Hartz Mountains, with a
ver>- curious wood-cut, representing these poor creatures,

12 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

always in women's attire, as riding on pitchforks and
broomsticks. The work, a good-sized duodecimo, was
adorned with red margins, now so fashionable, and was
printed near the middle of the last century. The stories
in the Old Testament interested me very much, and before
I was fifteen years of age I had read the entire Bible, with
what understanding I will not pretend to say. Of alma-
nacs I was always very fond, and even now I am often en-
tertained by this kind of reading. The fact is, good alma-
nacs generally furnish a great deal of valuable information,
and it is not surprising that old ones should often command
a high price at public sales. The elegant almanacs which
during the last ten years have been annually published
by Mr. George W. Childs, proprietor of the Philadelphia
Public Ledger, will be regarded as great literary treasures
a hundred years hence. What would a man not now
give for a copy of Poor Richard's Almanac, the product
of the brain, pen, and printing-press of Benjamin Franklin?

During my stay with my uncle I led, in the main, a very
easy kind of life. In the winter my time was regularly
spent at school ; and, although I was a careless boy, more
devoted to amusement than to study, I nevertheless picked
up a considerable amount of valuable knowledge. The
schoolhouse was a log cabin, very simply furnished, but
well warmed and sufficiently comfortable, affording accom-
m.odations for upwards of thirty boys and girls, from the
ages of eight or nine to nearly twenty. Among them was
a beautiful maiden, with blue eyes and flaxen hair, with
whom I fell desperately in love, without, however, dis-
closing my passion, which my great diffidence prevented
me from doing. She was by several years my senior, and,
finding that I had a rival, I wisely remained silent. An
altercation afterwards took place between him and another
suitor, eventuating in a serious hand-to-hand fight, followed
by black eyes and no little scandal throughout the school.

There never was a greater truism uttered than that

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 13

"Every lassie has her laddie." Falling in love is a natu-
ral consequence of our nature. Long before I was seven
years of age I was desperately smitten ; indeed, to such a
degree that I was rendered miserable. I shall never forget
little Phcebe Van B. , a girl somewhat younger than myself,
with pale features, light eyes and hair, and a sweet, gentle
voice, who was the early object of my adoration. Her
image is still fresh in my memory, although of the original
I lost sight before I was fourteen years old. Our attach-
ment was strong and mutual, and for many months we
were inseparable companions, happy only in each other's
society. I have seen so many instances of this ' ' falling in
love" among very young children that I long ago came to
the conclusion that it is one of the physiological conditions
of our organization. The occurrence is not unfrequently
attended with an amount of gallantry that would put to
blush older lovers.

In my early childhood I was passionately fond of flowers,
and before I was seven years old had a little garden in a
secluded dell, lined by rocks and fringed by small forest
trees, in which I cultivated the columbine, the poppy, the
anemone, and other wild flowers. It was a sort of fairy
spot, in which, in the early spring and summer, many of
my happiest hours were spent. Rasselas, prince of Abys-
sinia, in his wildest fancies, was never more happy in the
valley of Amhara than I was in this secluded spot, to
which, even now, my mind often reverts with pleasurable
emotions. My childhood was indeed a most joyous one.

The chief holidays at that period were Christmas, New
Year, and Easter. These seemed to be much farther apart
then than now, and their arrival was always anticipated
with a kind of joyous anxiety. Kriss Kringle always
brought gifts, of which cakes formed an important part.
Children's books had not then so independent an existence
as they have now. Like angels' visits, they were "few and
far between. ' ' The colored Easter-egg came regularly with

14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

even- revolving year, concealed in the grass in the family
garden, as the gift of the rabbits — a pretty idea, imported
originally from Germany, and of late years so much neglected
that there is danger of the custom becoming obsolete. The
New Year was alwa}s ushered in by the firing of guns and
pistols, commencing punctually immediately after the clock
struck twelve, the party consisting of old and young
men, assembled from the vicinity, and growing steadily by
accretion as they passed from house to house, extending
happy greetings to their friends, followed by the simulta-
neous discharge of their guns. On such occasions it was
not uncommon for the younger members of the party to
make sentimental addresses to their sweethearts. Coffee,
cake, and sausages were always served after the greetings
were over, and the merriment was often enhanced by the
circulation of ' ' the intoxicating bowl. ' ' These New Year
greetings, which w^ere peculiar to the German settlements,
were often continued until a late hour in the morning, and
were seldom attended by any mishaps, social or physical.

In my childhood I was a finn believer in ghosts, witches,
hobgoblins, devils, evil spirits, and, in short, everything
that was weird or supernatural. I believed that the very air
was filled with these creatures, that they were on the con-
stant lookout for bad people, and that they were particu-
larly wicked and dangerous at night. During one winter
I lived near a church, the graveyard of which I never
passed without whistling or a sense of horripilation ; whis-
tling to keep the ghosts away and to tell the family where
I might be found in case of an attack. After I became a
student of medicine I could have slept comfortably, cer-
tainly without fear, amid a hundred corpses. This feeling
was not peculiar to me ; it was shared by all the younger
members of the family and by all the children in the neigh-
borhood. It made me for a long time a great coward,
afraid to go out at night, or to sleep alone in the dark. I
was more than twelve years of age before I was able to

- SAMUEL D. GROSS, Af. D. 15

shake off these terrible impressions of my childhood, the re-
sult, not of superstition on the part of my parents, who
knew better, but of an education designed to make me
good by inducing me to believe that all my acts were
watched, and that these acts would be rewarded or pun-
ished according as they were good or bad.

Children are emphatically the creatures of circumstances.
The prejudices in which they are reared are sure to influ-
ence them, if not during their whole lives, at any rate for
a long time, or until they are counteracted by other sur-
roundings or by riper reasoning powders. There is hardly a
child that is not impressed with the conviction that Santa
Claus is a reality, a sort of mystic personage, living in a
cave or some secluded valley, and coming down the chim-
ney on Christmas nights to dispense his favors. This be-
lief, handed down from generation to generation, from
parents to their offspring, is a delightful delusion which
seldom leaves the mind before the sixth or eighth year of
childhood.

One of my uncle's amusements, as I have mentioned,
was playing cards, in which I myself soon became quite
a proficient. Whenever a hand was needed I was ready
to fill the gap. My favorite games were euchre and
seven-up. I never learned Boaston or poker, not having
had the advantage of General Schenck's instruction. In
time I became very fond of cards ; we often sat at the table
until a late hour of the night, and after I retired I was sure
to dream of them, the cards often floating, as it were, bodily
before my eyes. I found that this would not do ; the fas-
cination was growing upon me, and I therefore determined
to break it up. This I did before I had reached my four-
teenth year. I made a vow that I would not play again
for twenty years, and this vow I scrupulously observed
during all that period. To conquer one's self requires reso-
lution, often great courage ; but the effort, if persistent
and earnest, seldom fails of its purpose. No man should

1 6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

allow himself to become a slave to habit or to anything
whatever. It is better, as Rip \'an Winkle says, to swear
off, and to assert his independence.

I must not forget to mention that during the cherr}' sea-
son I occasionally killed a woodpecker in a novel and cu-
rious manner. A thin, slender pole was inserted in the
ground close to the trunk of the tree, with the other end
protruding at the top. When the bird had obtained his
cherr}- he would perch upon the side of the top of the pole
to eat it at his leisure. The moment he was fairly seated
in his fancied securit}' the pole was struck below with an
axe, causing thus a violent vibration, which, sent through
the legs of the poor bird to the spinal cord and brain, gen-
erally occasioned instantaneous death by concussion of the
nervous centres. In my work on Surger}' I have referred
to this operation as an apt illustration of the mode of pro-
duction of concussion of the brain and spinal cord from
falls on the feet and nates.

Leaving my uncle in my fifteenth year, I went back to
my mother, and bethought me of some useful occupa-
tion during the rest of my life. Various suggestions were
made to me, but none were sufficiently enticing to induce
me to adopt them. I had had from my earliest childhood
the strongest desire to be a "doctor." How that feeling
was engendered I have never been able to explain. Per-
haps it was from seeing occasionally a physician at my
father' s house in times of sickness. However this may have
been, this desire had seized me before I was six years of age,
and continued to haunt me more or less until I was able to
gratify it. There are natural-born poets ; and, if there ever
was a natural-born doctor, I was that one. The impulse was
too strong to be resisted. My views of life now became
somewhat settled ; and, as my education was still ver>' de-
fective, I at once began to remedy it. I had made consider-
able progress in the study of the German language ; I had
read quite a number of books, and was able to write Ger-

' SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 17

man with some ability. My English had been neglected,
and I therefore determined to take up the language sys-
tematically. I also, in due time, commenced the study
of the Latin language. My progress, however, was not
rapid in either. I had been brought up in a German set-
tlement, and therefore knew practically little of English.
This was a serious impediment, and it cost me much
labor and trouble to surmount it. Then, again, my early
teachers were themselves indifferent English scholars ; and
my progress would have been still less if I had not by this
time become thoroughly impressed with the necessity of
self-reliance and hard work. I labored diligently at my
books, and made considerable progress in reading, com-
position, and arithmetic. Latin dragged heavily along,
and as yet I had not attempted Greek. Indeed, there was
no one in the neighborhood who had much acquaintance
with the classics.

At the age of seventeen I considered myself competent
to commence the study of medicine, and I accordingly en-
tered the office of a country physician ; but he afforded me
no aid, and I therefore soon quit him and tried another,
with no better luck. They had none but old, if not obso-
lete, books ; they were constantly from home, never exam-
ined me, or gave me any encouragement. With the aid of
Fyfe's Anatomy and a skeleton, I learned some osteology ;
but even this was up-hill business, and I at length gave up
in despair, I found that my Latin was inadequate, and that
I could not understand the technicalities of medicine with-
out some knowledge of Greek. With some degree of hesi-
tancy, lest I should give ofTence, I disclosed my feelings to
my preceptor, and, much to his honor, he at once released
me from any obligations to serve out my term of study.
This was the turning-point in 7ny life. I had pondered the
matter with much care ; it had worried and fretted me
for days and nights ; and, as I was naturally very diffi-
dent, it required all the courage I could summon to make
1—3

l8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

known my wishes. The promptness with which they
were seconded gave me such relief that I once more drew
a long and comfortable breath. I had made a great dis-
covery— a knowledge of my ignorance ; and with it came
a solemn determination to remedy it.

The school which I selected was the Academy at Wilkes-
barre, famous in its day for the large number of its pupils,
and at the time under the charge of Mr. , afterwards Judge,
Joel Jones, a graduate of Yale College, a gentleman of
great kindness of heart, a good linguist and an excellent
teacher. He was assisted by a brother, Mr. Samuel
Jones, who was afterwards for many years the principal of
a celebrated classical school in Philadelphia. I lost no
time in beginning my studies. Latin, English grammar,
mathematics, and Greek formed my daily occupation, and
no youth ever worked harder than I to acquire know-
ledge. I generally slept with a book under my pillow, es-
pecially if I had anything to commit to memory. My
progress was commendable. Still I had a fearful task
before me in Buttmann's Greek Grammar, as it was en-
tirely too large and difficult for a beginner. However, I
succeeded in mastering a good portion of it, and was able
to apply a considerable number of its rules. This gram-
mar had just been introduced to the American student,
through a translation by the late Edward Everett, made
soon after his return from Europe, while tutor at Har-
vard University. My Latin grammar was that of Adam,
rector of the High School at Edinburgh ; it was too
voluminous a book for a beginner, but, nevertheless, a
most excellent one, which held its position for a long time
in the affections of the European and American student.
My English grammar was an abridgment of Lindley Mur-
ray's, for a long time the only grammar used in this coun-
try. Within the last forty years great changes have taken
place in school-books, not perhaps always for the best, al-
though in many instances the gain, by simplifying the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 19

process of teaching, has been vast. The only Greek lexi-
con in my school-days was Schrevelius's, which, as the
definitions were all in Latin, few pupils could master.
The labor thoroughly disgusted me, and the consequence
was that I never had any love for the Greek language. To
understand Latin was hard enough, but to study Greek
through such a medium was positively absurd ; nay, more,
an insult to common-sense and an outrage upon human
nature. Ross's Greek Grammar, used in some of the
schools and colleges in the country, was constructed upon
the same principle, and yet it maintained its place as a
text-book for many years. To study Greek with such
agencies was as severe a task as for an ox to tread out
com. I never think of it without a shudder, and wonder
that teachers could ever have been so foolish ! I had be-
come a graduate in medicine when I saw for the first time,
upon the counter of a New York bookseller, a copy of
Groves' s Greek and English Lexicon, then recently pub-
lished. This was in the autumn of 1828. I welcomed the
book as the harbinger of a new era in educational progress ;
the reign of Ross and Schrevelius was soon over, and the
study of the Greek language became a comparatively easy
task.

When Oliver Goldsmith went to Holland it occurred to
him that he might replenish his exhausted purse by teach-
ing the Dutch a knowledge of the English language ; but
he soon found that to do this it was necessar>' that he
himself should understand Dutch, and so, like a sensible
man, he abandoned the enterprise. What a pity Ross and
Schrevelius had not heard this anecdote before they wrote
their books !

Studying Greek through the medium of the Latin lan-
guage was very much such a task as the law student had
before him when he attempted to obtain a knowledge of
his profession by reading such jargon as met his eye in
Coke upon Littleton. Blackstone lifted a heavy load off

20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

his brain by the publication of his immortal Commenta-
ries ; and what Blackstone did for the English student
Kent did for the American.

Mathematics I detested. I never understood the most
simple rule in algebra. As to Euclid, I would rather have
worked in the mines of Siberia than have attempted to
solve one of his problems. If opportunity had offered, I
should have made a good linguist ; I was fond of the study
of languages ; and, if I had been a teacher, I should have
gone over the ground philosophically. The German was
my native tongue, the English an acquired one ; and as to
the French, although I could not speak it, I translated
it with facility. The Italian I read at one time sufh-
ciently well to enable me to understand some works in
surgery, which I was obliged to consult in the composition
of a paper on the Results of Surgical Operations in the
Treatment of Malignant Diseases, prepared by me many
years ago for the American Medical Association, in the
Transactions of which it was published.

I must not forget to say a few words here of the Jones
family, of which Joel was a member. It was, in many re-
spects, a remarkable one. It emigrated from Connecticut.
The mother was a Huntington, a woman of great refine-
ment, and of a strong, vigorous mind. Of the four sons
Joel became the most eminent. Quitting teaching he
studied law, and settled at Easton. After the election of
Hon. George Wolf as Governor of Pennsylvania, he was
appointed one of the commissioners to revise the code of
Pennsylvania, and afterwards he became a judge of the
District Court of Philadelphia, an ofhce which he held for
several years. He was subsequently elected president of
Girard College and mayor of the city. He held these
ofhces, however, only for a short time, and then returned
to the bar, at which he ended his life. He was too honest
and too sensitive for the times in which he lived — utterly
unfitted by nature for the contentions and strife of active

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 21

life ; otherwise he might have become a very distin-
guished man. He shrank from contact with the world.
He was a close student, a capital linguist, and an excel-
lent Biblical scholar. His library was extensive, and
abounded in rare works on law and general literature. He
left behind him a work in manuscript on theology, which
was published after his death, and which was highly
esteemed for its learning and piety. He was essentially a
' ' book-worm. ' '

The Rev. Dr. Joseph H. Jones, who was for many years
pastor of the Spruce Street Presbyterian Church of this
city, was a man of great piety, of refined and cultivated
mind, and of great activity in useful and charitable work.
He was for many years president of the Society for the
Relief of Superannuated Clergymen.

Samuel Jones, a younger brother, was, as already stated,
the principal of a classical school in this city, which he
superintended for many years, and which turned out some
of the best educated men in different pursuits in Philadel-
phia. As a classical teacher he was very popular. Late
in life he engaged in coal speculations, and finally died of
an incurable malady. Matthew Hale Jones, the youngest
male member of the family, was a successful lawyer at
Easton. There were four daughters, all highly respectable
women, two of whom died in early life.

The academy at Wilkesbarre was a celebrated institu-
tion in its day. It was open both to boys and gpirls. After
Mr. Jones left it, however, it lost caste, and was finally
abandoned. My connection with it lasted only one year.
I would have remained longer, but the difhculty of induc-
ing my guardians to advance me the necessary means em-
barrassed me, and at length compelled me, much against
my wishes, to leave it.

The janitor of this academy was a "character," known
by the sobriquet of "Old Speck." A German by birth,
he represented himself as one of Bonaparte's soldiers. One

22 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of his stories, afterwards often repeated to his annoyance,
was that, during the retreat of the grand army from Russia,
when the soldiers were hard pressed for food, he stole a
dead child, concealed it in his knapsack, and finally de-
voured it. The word ' ' speck' ' had reference to this ex-
ploit, and it was never uttered without making him very
angry. Of the young men who were pupils at the academy
during my connection with it few attained distinction.

An incident occurred during my residence at Wilkes-
barre which came very near proving fatal to me. My
brother, several years my senior, a young man named
Haynes, to whom I was much attached, and I went
out bathing one day in the Susquehanna. It was late
in the afternoon, after school hours. Haynes and I went
in together; my brother probably fifty yards off. I sud-
denly heard a cry and saw a struggle in the water. My
brother had disappeared. Naturally enough with great
rapidity I ran to his aid. He at once seized me and we
went down together. Fortunately this lasted only a few
seconds. As good luck would have it we got upon a ledge
of rocks, and were thus saved, after having been under the
water several times. I shall never forget the horror of the
occasion, the thousand things that flashed, like lightning,
through my mind, and the great relief I felt when I was
assured of a safe foothold. Neither of us could swim.

Apropos of Judge Jones : I had the pleasure of dining
with him in 1845, and in the course of conversation he
mentioned to me, in the presence of his excellent wife, the
great awe which he felt about the learning and accomplish-
ments of Philadelphia lawyers on his elevation to the
bench. He often, he told me, sat up till a late hour in
the morning preparing his decisions, until he found, in a
short time, that he had nothing to fear, as the learning
and ability of the bar had been vastly exaggerated. Dis-
tance had evidently lent "enchantment to the view."
The Philadelphia bar is still a great one, but, like every

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 93

other bar in America, it has lost its eloquence. Any
attempt of this kind is now regarded as useless ; argu-
ments and facts having taken its place as better adapted
to secure the ends of justice. The only exception,
perhaps, to this rule is in trials for murder, in which a
display of forensic eloquence is still occasionally wit-
nessed. Uneducated and unprincipled lawv^ers — "petti-
foggers" as they are termed — have done much to lower and
degrade the legal profession, just as similar characters
in our profession have defiled our ranks. I wish we could
say that the clergy were free from these impure creatures !

After completing the year at Wilkesbarre I went the
following winter to New York, where I attended a classical
school in the Bowery, under the care of Mr. Shea, an Irish
patriot. But as my progress here did not satisfy me, I
returned at the end of six months to Easton, where I
found my former teacher, Mr. Joel Jones, who was now
a candidate for practice at the bar, and who kindly con-
sented to give me private instruction in Latin and Greek.

After six months I became restless, and hearing of the
High School at Lawrenceville, New Jersey, I spent the
next six months in that institution, thus completing my
course of studies. This school was then, as it is now,
a celebrated institution, attracting pupils from different
and even remote States. The principal was the Rev. Dr.
Isaac Brown, a Presbyterian clergyman, a graduate of
Princeton College, and a kind-hearted, excellent, pious
gentleman, who had made teaching the business of his
life. He was assisted by several ushers. While under
his super\'ision I studied Greek and Latin, geography
and mathematics, and devoted much time to miscella-
neous reading. Among the works that interested me
very much were Marshall's Life of Washington and
Hannah More's writings. The number of pupils was
upwards of fifty, more than one-half of whom were board-
ers in the house. Mrs. Brown was a noble woman,

24 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

who kept a close watch upon the welfare of the inmates.
Grace was said at every meal ; and, although there was
occasionally a little disorderly conduct, the establishment
was, in the main, conducted with the greatest propriety
and decorum. On the Sabbath every boy was expected
to attend church, and Dr. Brown's prayers and sermons
were often fatiguingly long and uninteresting.

It was towards the close of the session — if I mistake not,
on the 24th of September, 1824 — that General Lafayette,
the nation's guest, passed through Trenton on his way
from New York to Philadelphia. The whole country, far
and near, was in a state of ferment to behold the illustrious
patriot, the companion of Washington, and the friend of
America, and an immense concourse of people assembled
on the hill back of Trenton to bid him welcome. The
crowd had waited from early morning until late in the
afternoon, when, at length, the " conquering hero" came,
seated in a carriage drawn by four white horses, ' ' the ob-
serv^ed of all observers." The welkin rang with shouts
and huzzas, handkerchiefs were waved, hats were thrown
into the air, cannons boomed, and bands discoursed sweet
music of welcome. The veteran bowed in every direction,
evidently delighted with what was passing around him, as
indeed he might well have been. On alighting from his
carriage, he was conducted into the State House, where,
after an address of welcome by — if I mistake not — the
Governor of New Jersey, he had a public reception, fol-
lowed by a magnificent ball in the evening. The next day,
being Sunday, he attended divine service, and on Monday
morning left for Philadelphia. Lafayette was dressed in
plain citizen's clothes, and had a very ruddy face, with a
remarkably prominent nose.

Lawrenceville is situated nearly midway between Tren-
ton and Princeton, at what was formerly known as Maid-
enhead, the scene of a rough skirmish between a portion
of the British and American forces during the war of the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 35

Revolution. During my attendance at its High School
there were but few houses, with a church and a graveyard,
and no tavern or blacksmith shop, those important requi-
sites of a country-- village ! There were some good dwell-
ings in the neighborhood, among others a very large one
occupied by a Mr. Green, whose son, Henry Woodhull
Green, afterwards became Chief Justice and finally Chan-
cellor of the State of New Jersey. I revisited Lawrence-
ville for the first and only time since my school-days im-
mediately before the war, as an invited guest at the semi-
centennial celebration of its High School, then, as since,
under the charge of the brothers Hamill. My old teacher
was present, but he had retired from the school, and was
living near Trenton, where, about eighteen months later,
he was gathered to his fathers. Dr. Brown was of Hugue-
not descent, a sincere Christian and a good man, a little
too fond of the birch ; for he would occasionally flog some
of the younger boys most unmercifully, especially one of
his nephews, who, excepting that he was somewhat mis-
chievous, seemed to me to be quite as good and well-be-
haved as any of his fellow-students.

It will thus be perceived that my education was a desul-
tory one, and yet I certainly acquired much valuable
knowledge for future service. The manner in which I
pursued my education was not a matter of choice with
me. It grew out of the circumstances in which I was
placed. My guardians did all they could to thwart my
efforts, and often failed to supply me with money to pay
my board and tuition, thus subjecting me not only to
great chagrin, but to the loss of valuable time and unjust
expense. I should have fared much better — infinitely
better in ever>' respect — if, as was my wish, I could have
pursued my studies uninterruptedly at one institution,
as, for example, the grand old academy at Wilkesbarre.
My patrimony was ample, and would have lasted longer
if it had been properly applied.
1—4

CHAPTER II.

CHOICE OF PROFESSION — STUDY MEDICINE — STUDY FRENCH — HEALTH FAILS —
VISIT NIAGARA FALLS — ENTER JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE — LOVE OF ANAT-
OMY— FACULTY OF THE COLLEGE — GRADUATION — OPEN AN OFFICE — ^TRANS-
LATIONS OF FRENCH WORKS — PRACTICE — JOHN D. GODMAN — SEARS C. WALKER

INCOME MARRIAGE — RETURN TO EASTON DISSECTIONS EXPERIMENTAL

INQUIRIES GOETTER TRIAL — JAMES MADISON PORTER ANDREW REEDER

MEDICAL PROFESSION ASIATIC CHOLERA.

The choice of a profession is one of tlie greatest per-
plexities of a young man's life. No one, perhaps, ever
experienced this in a greater degree than Nathaniel
Hawthorne, Originally inclined to lead a seafaring life,
he wrote to his mother that he did not want to be a
doctor, and live by men's diseases ; or a minister, or a
lawy^er ; and he concluded that there was nothing left for
him but to be an author. No such difficulty presented
itself to me. If I was not bom a doctor, I was detennined
from my earliest boyhood to study medicine ; and, although
I have sometimes thought that I had mistaken my calling,
I am not sure that I have not done well in being a doctor,
and living by men's diseases. The author of The
Scarlet Letter, the Twice-Told Tales, and The House
of the Seven Gables did far more for his own reputation
and for the glory of America as an author than he ever
could have done as a sea-captain, a position which he so
much coveted in his youth. It is said of Physick that,
in his early professional life, he constantly expressed his
regret that he had not adopted his father's occupation —
that of a jeweller. Sir Astley Cooper, the great London
26

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 27

surgeon, was induced to take up the profession by see-
ing IMr. Donne, of the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital,
perform an operation — probably lithotomy — in a "mas-
terly manner;" and Nathan Smith, one of America's
great physicians and surgeons, had his mind first directed
to the study of medicine by witnessing an operation in
the hands of Dr. Goodhue, who became afterwards his
preceptor.

I was nineteen years of age when I commenced in
earnest the study of medicine. My preceptor w^as Dr.
Joseph K. Swift, of Easton, a graduate of the University
of Pennsylvania, and a practitioner of some note, with
considerable pretension to scientific knowledge, and a
deadly hatred of quackery. The understanding was that
I was to remain under his tuition for three years, in-
clusive of two lecture terms, and that he was to receive,
as an office fee, two hundred dollars, for which he
was to furnish me with the use of certain books, and to
examine me once a week on such branches as I might be
studying. His library was small, and its contents of little
value. He had no apparatus of any kind, plates or dia-
grams, no specimens in materia medica, or anatomical prep-
arations ; nothing, in short, but a skeleton, and this, with
the aid of Wistar's Anatomy, was the first thing I set about
to master. In less than two months I had accomplished
my object ; I knew pretty well every foramen, prominence,
and suture, and was complimented upon my progress. I
then went to the ligaments and muscles, and at length to
the viscera, and of course learned but little. From anat-
omy I went to surgery, then to materia medica, and finally
to midwifery and the practice of medicine. The works on
these subjects that were put into my hands were Dorsey's
Elements of Surgery, Chapman's Materia Medica and
Therapeutics, Burns' s Midwifery, edited by James, and
Thomas's Practice, edited by Hosack. Chemistry I did
not study, being told that it could not be learned out of the

28 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

lecture-room without the aid of experiments, and no asser-
tion, I am sure, is more true. I was generally examined on
Saturday, and it is due to preceptor and pupil to say that
they were always punctually at their post. From an hour
to an hour and a half was usually consumed in this way ;
the book which I was engaged in reading being always
spread out on the table before my ' ' master. ' ' I need not
say that this was a dry and unprofitable mode of studying
medicine ; it was acquiring knowledge under difficulties ;
it was a waste of precious time ; and I was therefore glad
when the period arrived for attending lectures. I was
eager for a new field, where I might obtain some substan-
tial information, and some remuneration for my pains. I
had all along felt that, like Sisyphus, I was engaged
in rolling stones up hill, and doing myself no good be-
yond the slight reputation I gained as a devoted student.
Besides, I had seen no practice ; my preceptor was not
popular, and few of his patients could be visited by an
"unfledged doctor." Swift, I am sure, took an interest in
me ; but it soon became apparent to me that such instruc-
tion as I was receiving from him had little value, and fell
far short of what a student had a right to expect from his
preceptor. Perhaps, however, this was not his fault, but
the fault of the vicious system of office pupilage, still prev-
alent in nearly all sections of this country, a system which
cannot be too pointedly condemned, and concerning which
I shall have more to say.

Knowing how important it was for a physician, ambitious
to excel in his profession, to have some knowledge of the
French language, I took private lessons from an English
lady, then a resident of Easton, and in a few months had
made such progress as to enable me to read pretty fluently
any ordinary work. The time thus spent was not allowed
to interfere with my medical studies. This was an agreeable
pursuit, which, while it served to strengthen my memory,
assisted me in laying up valuable information for future

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 29

use. Wanostrocht's Grammar, Boyer's Dictionar}-, a
phrase book, and the Life of Charles XII. of Sweden by-
Voltaire, constituted my chief armamentarium for this
kind of work. I made attempts to speak the language, but
I never could get my tongue to take kindly to it. For
the sake of its admirable medical literature, I would
strongly advise all medical students to study French.

During my pupilage at Easton I became interested in
the study of mineralogy, having imbibed a taste for it from
Dr. Swift, who had a choice collection of minerals, to
which he was constantly adding by way of exchanges. He
had had the first gatherings at Wolf 's quarry, as it was called,
two miles above Easton, on the west bank of the Delaware,
one of the finest localities of the serpentine minerals in the
countr>^, and one of the few where cry'stals of serpentine
have been found. At this quarry and in its vicinity many
of my happiest hours were spent. iVIy custom was, during
the summer months, after getting through with my medi-
cal studies, to spend a few hours in the afternoon at least
once, and often twice, a week, in search of specimens, and
when I left Easton I had accumulated a beautiful collec-
tion, enriched by domestic and foreign exchanges, amount-
ing to upwards of two thousand specimens. Among those
with whom I corresponded at this period for improving my
collection were Professor Silliman, of New Haven, Major
Delafield, of West Point, and Dr. Darlington, of West
Chester, Pennsylvania.

I had studied medicine nearly one year when my health
broke down. I became very weak, my appetite gave
way, and my nerv^ous system was thoroughly wrecked.
Sleep forsook my pillow, and I was harassed by horrid
dreams. I kept a light burning all night in my room lest
I. should die in the dark. On one occasion I dreamed that
my grave was being dug ; I saw people at work throwing
up the earth and getting ready to deposit all that was
mortal of me. I awoke suddenly, jumped up hastily,

30 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

raised the nearly exhausted wick of my lamp, and, in a
deep perspiration, gradually regained my self-possession.
It was a fearful moment, one which I shall never forget.
Any unexpected news greatly alarmed me. The ringing
of the town bell for a funeral was most fearful to me.
As to studying, that was impossible. Every effort of the
kind only served to worry and to distress me. There was
then no chloral, no bromide of potassium to assuage my
suffering. Fortunately I was the owner of an excellent
saddle-horse, and as soon as spring fairly opened I started
for Niagara, in company with a brother, a distance of
three hundred and fifty miles. We made, on an average,
from twenty-five to thirty miles a day, resting occasionally
a day or so, as was found necessary for comfort. Much
of the country through which we passed was in a wild,
uncultivated state. Rochester, as I well recollect, was
bristling with the stumps of recently felled trees ; the
roads were indifferent, and few travellers were to be seen
anywhere. The most fashionable hotels in the larger towns
through which we passed were known as the Eagle Hotels,
generally provided with excellent accommodations at rea-
sonable charges. At Buffalo, which was then already a
city of great importance, we saw some of Red Jacket's
men, magnificent specimens of Indians — tall, handsome,
and straight as arrows. Some of them were idling or
lounging about ; others were engaged in drawing up logs
from the shore of Lake Erie. We did not visit the chief's
reservation. During our stay I made the acquaintance of
a pleasant gentleman, Dr. Stagg, a rising physician, who
had a fine collection of dog-tooth spar and other speci-
mens of the famous Lockport minerals, and who, on
taking leave of us, kindly gave me a letter of introduc-
tion to his old preceptor, the celebrated Dr. Samuel Latham
Mitchill, of New York.

We reached the Falls of Niagara in about sixteen days,
saw all the objects of interest in a state of virgin purity, not,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 31

as now, defiled by art and bad taste, and then turned our
faces homeward. Ten miles from the Falls we stopped at
a village inhabited by the remnant of dirty, squalid
Tuscarora Indians, now almost extinct. Here we saw
no men at all comparable to those w^e had met with
at Buffalo. They belonged entirely to a different set of
beings. The women were decidedly ugly, and the chil-
dren dull and heavy-looking. Much of the road along
which we travelled was skirted by the Erie Canal, alive
with boats, freighted with the produce of the rich country
through which, like a snake, it meandered. The Mohawk
Valley, so beautiful and fertile, and even then so highly
cultivated, interested us very much. At Albany, after a
rest of a few days, we sent our jaded horses on flats down
the Hudson, while we ourselves took passage on one of the
New York steamers. Altogether I was absent six weeks ;
all my nervous symptoms had disappeared, my digestive
organs were in excellent condition, my sleep was never
better, and my brain was again in working order ; in a
word, my health, previously so undermined, was com-
pletely restored. I had simply been overworked and
overdrugged, and the horseback exercise, with the ex-
hilarating influence of change of air, food, and scene,
did the work of restoration. I regard exercise on horse-
back as the most salutary exercise an invalid can take.
Exercise in an open carriage is also very good, while riding
in a railway car is worrying and fatiguing, only fit for
robust people.

Thomas Sydenham, that great obser\'er of nature — the
English Hippocrates, as he is often called — was fully
aware of the beneficial effects of horseback exercise.
Having charge of a patient whom nobody had been able to
cure, he told him one day that there was a physician, a
Dr. Roberts, at Inverness, Scotland, who was famous for his
treatment of dyspeptic and nervous disorders, and strongly
advised his patient to visit him. The distance was con-

32 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

siderable, but that need not discourage him, as all he
required was a good horse. As he rode along his health
rapidly improved ; but on reaching Inverness, and inquir-
ing for Dr. Roberts, he was greatly mortified to find that
there was no such man in the town. Determined to seek
redress, he rode back as he came, and called Sydenham
to account for what he had considered a great insult.
"How is your health?" inquired the great man. "My
health is excellent," was the answer; "but you told me
an untruth, and I want an explanation." " I knew," was
the reply, "that there was no such physician as Dr. Roberts
at Inverness, but I also knew that, buoyed up with hope,
the journey at this genial season of the year would cure
you of your maladies. ' '

Swift was anxious that I should attend lectures in the
University of Pennsylvania, his Alma Mater, and accord-
ingly gave me letters to Professors Dewees and Horner,
the former of whom was a relative by marriage of Mrs.
Swift. I had, however, heard so much of the brilliant
achievements of Dr. George McClellan, Professor of Sur-
gery in the Jefferson Medical College, then recently founded,
that I made up my mind to disregard his wishes and
to matriculate in the "new school," as it was called. I
therefore did not deliver Swift's letters. I became at the
same time a private pupil of McClellan, and never re-
entered Swift's ofiice, although I had paid him his full
fee when I left Easton. This, I believe, gave offence.

I arrived in Philadelphia in October, 1826, several weeks
before the commencement of the session, and at once
entered the dissecting-rooms, spending most of my time
in the study of practical anatomy. Revolting as the sight
and odor were to me during the first few days, I soon
became passionately fond of dissections, and henceforth
made practical anatomy a special study. I seldom retired
during the first half of the session of the college before
late at night. In the autumn I spent a month upon

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 33

this study during tlie day, before the opening of the
regular lectures, and in the spring I did the same, after
the session had terminated. I thus became a fair prac-
tical anatomist. I was particularly fond of surgical and
visceral anatomy. I shall never forget the deep inter-
est I felt in the structure of the brain and in the origin and
distribution of the nerves, especially the great sympathetic,
phrenic, and pneumogastric. The discoveries by Magendie
and Sir Charles Bell of the functions of the nerv^es of mo-
tion and sensation at that time profoundly interested pro-
fessional men, and enlisted the attention alike of teacher
and pupil. McClellan was an enthusiast, and I was not
long in sharing his feelings.

The Faculty of the school consisted of McClellan, Pro-
fessor of Surgery ; N. R. Smith, Anatomy ; John Eberle,
Practice of Medicine ; William P. C. Barton, Materia Med-
ica ; Jacob Green, Chemistr}^ ; John Barnes, Obstetrics, and
Benjamin Rush Rhees, Institutes of Medicine and Medical
Jurisprudence. Before the opening of my second course
Smith was called to the chair of Anatomy in the Univer-
sity of Maryland, Baltimore, in which he continued for about
two }-ears. He then succeeded Dr. Davidge in the chair
of Surgery, which he occupied until 1869, having in the
meantime earned a world-wide reputation as a surgeon and
teacher, and enjoyed an immense practice. In the following
spring Barnes was replaced by Eberle, who now taught
both medicine and midwifery ; and McClellan lectured both
on anatomy and surgery. The Faculty consequently con-
sisted of five members only during my second term.
McClellan was the master genius of the establishment, a
fluent and popular lecturer, full of energ}' and enthusiasm,
but utterly without system. Every student was warmly
attached to him, and "Mac" was the name by which
he was generally designated. As an operator, he was
showy, and at times brilliant, yet he lacked the im-
portant requisites of a great surgeon — judgment and
1—5

34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

patience. He frequently jumped at conclusions, and was
therefore often at fault in his diagnosis. He was the
founder of the college, and for a number of years its great
pillar. A native of Norwich, Connecticut, and a graduate
of Yale College, he came to Philadelphia in 1817, was a
pupil of Dr. John Syng Dorsey up to the time of that
gentleman's death, and took his degree in 1819 in the
University of Penns}dvania. He soon acquired practice,
married an amiable and accomplished lady in 1821, and
in 1824 obtained a charter from the Legislature of Penn-
sylvania for the Jefferson IMedical College. He died in
1847, ^^ t^^ fifty-first year of his age, after a brief illness,
of perforation of the bowel. At the time of his death
the Collins Printing House had in hand a portion of the
manuscript of a work entitled The Principles and Practice
of Surger}^, a small volume, issued as a posthumous pro-
duction under the supervision of his son, the late Dr. John
H. B. McClellan. The work proved to be a failure, both
in a commercial and professional point of view. The
best things in it are its cases, most of which are por-
trayed by the hand of a master. Early in life he wrote
some good reviews, particularly one of Baron Larrey's
Surgical Memoirs of Napoleon's Campaigns.

Next to McClellan the most prominent man in the school
was Dr. John Eberle, the Professor of ]\Iedicine, a short,
dark-visaged man, of German descent, a native of Lancaster
County, Pennsylvania. He was a bookworm, but an indif-
ferent lecturer. Still he was a good writer, and well versed
in medical lore. His lectures were written out in full, and
read with little animation or variation of tone. He was
an instructive teacher. His great fault was his citation of
authorities, and his want of confidence in the statement of
his own views, A teacher should be bold and decided in
his opinions ; not too positive, but sufficiently so to
be authoritative. The student cannot judge for himself.
The knowledge that is placed before him must be, so to

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 35

speak, well digested for liim, otherwise it will stagger and
bewilder, not instruct him. Eberle was a good writer.
His work on IMateria Medica and his Practice of ^Medicine,
published before he was forty-five years of age, were able
productions, which passed through a number of editions,
were widely used as text-books, and gave him an extensive
reputation. The Materia ]\Iedica received the compliment
of a German translation at Weimar. Later in life he pub-
lished an excellent work on the Diseases and Physical
Education of Children. In 1831 he was enticed away
from Philadelphia to the Medical College of Ohio, at Cin-
cinnati, where for several years he occupied the chair of
IMedicine. He finally removed to Lexington, Kentuckv,
and became professor of that branch in the medical depart-
ment of Transylvania University. He had made a false
step in leaving Philadelphia, where he had some friends
and some practice ; and, although he received a guarantee
in Kentucky of three thousand dollars a year, he did not
improve his pecuniary- condition materially by the change.
He had experienced numerous disappointments, had but
little practice, and was pretty well exhausted physically
and mentally by the long-continued use of opium, tobacco,
and porter. His career at Lexington was brief. He had
hardly entered upon his professional duties when he was
seized with the illness which in a few weeks destroyed his
life, leaving his family helpless, and, in a great degree,
destitute. He died Febniar\^, 1838, in the fifty-first year
of his age.

Eberle edited for a number of years the American Medi-
cal Recorder. He afterwards became editor of the Ameri-
can IMedical Review, a journal issued jointly at first by
himself and by George McClellan, and subsequently by
Eberle, McClellan, Nathan Smith, of New Haven, and
N. R. Smith, of Philadelphia. He contributed liberally
to the periodical press, and was one of the most able and
caustic medical reviewers the country has ever produced.

36 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

His faults as a physician and a man were timidity and
indecision. He was an indifferent practitioner except in
chronic diseases, with the nature and treatment of which
he seemed to me to be well acquainted. The American
Medical Review was begun in 1824, ^'^^ was suspended
in 1826, at the close of the third volume, probably for the
want of patronage.

Our chemist was an old bachelor, a simple-minded man,
not deeply versed in the science which he professed, but an
agreeable and instructive lecturer, with a good deal of
sophomoric flourish, and a mild, gentlemanly address. Al-
together a worse man than "Old Jacky Green," as he was
familiarly called by the students, might have occupied his
chair.

Barnes, the obstetrician, held his position only one ses-
sion. Having been weighed in the balance and found
wanting, he was placed on the retired list. He was the
dullest lecturer that it was my lot ever to hear, destitute
of all the attributes of a successful teacher.

William P. C. Barton was a surgeon in the navy, and
one of the best botanists of his day in this country. He
distinguished himself in early life by his beautiful work,
in two volumes, on the Medical Botany of the United
States. He was withal a good lecturer, of the conversa-
tional order, and an instructive teacher, thoroughly familiar
with his subject. In his dress he was very particular, and
in his temper a bitter man. During his lectures he often
indulged in caustic criticism at the expense of a member
of his class, who failed to answer his questions. Zooks,
a middle-aged man from Western Pennsylvania, was the
special object of the shafts of his sarcasm, much, I am sorry
to add, to the merriment of Zooks' s fellow-students. Not-
withstanding his oddities, I was fond of Barton, and during
the latter years of his life a very pleasant correspondence
passed between us. He was for several years Chief of
the Bureau of Medicine and Surger>' of the Navy, and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 37

was a man of marked ability. His dislike for Chapman
was invincible. He never let an occasion slip without
giving him a dig under the fifth rib. One of his esti-
mable daughters became the wife of ex-Judge F. Carroll
Brewster, the distinguished jurist.

Benjamin Rush Rhees was a "dapper little fellow,"
with an amiable disposition and a good deal of pomposity
about him. He always read his lectures, but, as he had a
good voice and an enthusiastic manner, he was an accept-
able though not an instructive teacher. He died young,
and left behind him no works to perpetuate his name. His
whole life had been a series of struggles. He was a gradu-
ate of the University of Pennsylvania, and took an active
part in the establishment of the Jefferson Medical College,
in which he was the first Professor of the Institutes of
Medicine and IMedical Jurisprudence. He was a super-
ficial man, with few original ideas and no adequate concep-
tion of the importance of the two branches which it was
his business to teach. As a man he was popular and
highly respected. His lectures were largely copied from
Bostock's Physiology- and from Fonblanque's and Beck's
Medical Jurisprudence.

The school at this time was very unpopular, and many
predictions were afloat that its existence would be of short
duration. But it went on despite the opposition of its
enemies ; its friends gradually increased in number and
influence, and before it had attained its silver wedding it
was one of the most flourishing institutions of medicine
in America. I have recently, through the kindness of
Professor J. H. Brinton, read an address delivered on the
8th of March, 1825, ^Y Professor Rhees, in which, in elo-
quent tenns, he sets forth the objects of the college, the
reasons which prompted its founding, and the detennina-
tion of its trustees and faculty to build up a school which
should be an honor alike to its founders, to the profession,
and to the country. The meeting at which this address

38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

was delivered was opened \vith prayer by the venerable
president of the college.

Such were the men from whom I imbibed my medical
knowledge during the two courses of lectures which I
attended. They were perhaps, in the main, as compe-
tent instructors as any similar number of teachers in the
schools of this country at that period ; for, after all, every-
thing depends upon the student himself, his industry, his
habits of attention, his culture, and his natural capacity.
His knowledge must come chiefly through his own per-
sonal exertion. Lectures, however able or erudite, are
only aids. They never can make a good physician or a
great man out of a dunce.

I studied hard during the sessions of the college as well
as during the recesses ; I was always punctually in my seat,
and never missed a lecture, except during the second win-
ter, when I was confined for two days to my room by an
attack of pleurodynia. I worked early and late, and lost
no occasion to profit by the opportunities that were afforded
me. I was determined to qualify myself well, especially
in the practical branches. I was very fond of anatomy
and surger)'^, and therefore made them objects of particular
inquir\\ During the eighteen months of my connection
with McClellan I had witnessed many important opera-
tions, and had seen a good deal of medical practice. My
mind, too, was well disciplined ; I had not only industry,
but ambition ; my morals and habits were good, and I was
a stranger to all amusements. Medicine was the goddess
of my idolatr}\ When, therefore, the time for my exami-
nation arrived I had no misgivings in regard to the result.
I had planted carefully, and believed that I should ulti-
mately receive the reward of my industry. The thirty-five
minutes which I spent in the ' ' Green Room' ' of my Alma
Mater were amongst the happiest of my life, and I could
not help giving expression to my feelings in the presence
of my assembled teachers. Such, indeed, was my hilarity

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 39

that IMcClellan, my private preceptor, who knew me inti-
mately, was induced to ask me afterguards "whether I
had not been drinking?" — although he was well aware
that I was one of the most temperate of youths, and as
sober as a judge on the occasion in question. IMy exami-
nation, I had reason to believe, gave entire satisfaction.
The commencement day came ; McClellan delivered the
address to the graduates, and I was one of twenty-seven
who received, at the end of the third session of the college,
the honors of the doctorate. My thesis, to the composition
of which I had devoted unusual care and labor, was on the
Nature and Treatment of Cataract. I had seen many cases
of this disorder during my Philadelphia pupilage. It is a
subject which, during my prolonged professional life, has
deeply interested me.

McClellan, on this as on many other occasions, was not
on time. He kept the audience waiting for at least ten
minutes, much to the annoyance of President Green, an
old man ; and when, at length, he made his appearance, he
could hardly read his manuscript, so badly was it written.
In fact, as I afterwards learned, he had been engaged upon
the composition of his address up to the ver>' moment of
leaving his house for the college.

After a short visit to my mother at Easton I returned to
Philadelphia, which I determined to make my future resi-
dence. I accordingly took an office at the corner of Li-
brary and Fifth Streets, immediately opposite Independence
Square, and announced myself as a candidate for business.

To spend my leisure to the best advantage, I at once
began the translation of a work on General Anatomy,
hoping by its publication not only to acquire a little repu-
tation, but to obtain means of support, which, ere this, had
been quite exhausted. Indeed, I took my office with feel-
ings of great doubt and misgiving, not knowing whether it
would be in my power to pay my rent or board. I knew
that business in a city like Philadelphia, crowded with

40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

professional men of great talent, influence, and experience,
must be slow of acquisition, and that I should be most
fortunate if I could, for the first three or four years, keep
my head above water.

I had determined, long before I finished my course of
studies in Jefferson Medical College, to undertake the trans-
lation of some French work as soon as I should receive my
degree. The one that I had selected was Edwards' s Manual
of Surgical Anatomy, which I had procured some time
previously, and which I had read with great care. A few
days before I thought of setting about my task, I found,
much to my disappointment, at Carey & Lea's store, a copy
of an English edition of the work from the pen of Mr.
Coulson, of London. This was soon after republished in
Philadelphia with notes by Dr. James Webster, afterwards
Professor of Anatomy at Geneva, New York. Thus was
my first hope blighted. While I was in doubt what to do
next. Dr. Dobson — "Old Judah" as he was styled — placed
in my hands a book on General Anatomy, by Bayle and
Hollard, of Paris, just fresh from the press. It was well
arranged, concise, and apparently adapted to the wants
of the profession in this country. Setting vigorously to
work, I finished my translation in two months, which,
in view of my imperfect knowledge of the French lan-
guage, my want of intimate knowledge of the subject — for
general anatomy was not then systematically taught in any
of our schools — and the fact that I had to travel over nearly
four hundred pages, was, to say the least, not slow pro-
gress. An incident happened near the completion of
this, my first, literary effort which deserves brief men-
tion. Messrs. Carey & Lea, at that time the principal
publishing house in the city, had agreed to publish my
translation, and to pay me two hundred dollars for it.
When the work had sufficiently progressed to be put to
press I placed some of the sheets in their hands, and
during the conversation which ensued incidentally re-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 41

marked that I should inscribe the translation to my pre-
ceptor, Dr. George McClellan. This was enough. In a
week the manuscript was returned to me with a note de-
clining the publication. The real cause of its rejection
was the fact that the firm was friendly to the University
of Pennsylvania, whose Faculty were hostile to Dr. Mc-
Clellan, the founder of the Jefferson Medical College. Upon
stating the circumstance to him, McClellan consulted Mr.
John Grigg, since distinguished as a successful and enter-
prising publisher, who immediately committed the book to
the press, on the terms previously offered me by Carey &
Lea. The work formed an octavo volume of about three hun-
dred pages, and was well received by the profession, having
been adopted as a text-book by several of the schools.
I need not say that the translation was a faithful,
though not perhaps an elegant one. The edition num-
bered two thousand copies. A new one was never called
for, owing to the fact that the subject had not then attracted
much attention, notwithstanding that the great work of
Bichat had been translated a number of years previously
by Dr. Hay ward, of Boston.

The work which I next translated was Hatin's Manual
of Obstetrics, a small practical treatise, wdiich I finished in
three weeks, and which was also issued by IVIr. Grigg, my
compensation being seventy-five dollars. An appendix,
containing Magendie's celebrated paper on the cephalo-
spinal fluid, translated by my friend Dr. Gardner, a fellow-
graduate, was added to secure its sale, which, it was feared,
would be seriously injured by the simultaneous appearance
of a translation of the same work by a physician of New
York, I sent a copy of this little book immediately after its
publication with a polite note to the late Dr. Dewees, Pro-
fessor of Midwifery in the University of Pennsylvania,
who, however, took no notice of either. Meeting, soon
after, the wife of my first preceptor, Mrs. Swift, Dr. Dewees
referred to the subject, and he observed that I might be
1—6

42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

a clever and promising young man, but that the Faculty
of the University could take no notice of anything that
emanated from the Jefferson School. I mention this fact
simply to show the state of feeling that existed at that
time between the two institutions.

]\Iy third translation was Hildenbrand on Typhus Fever,
a German work of much celebrity in its day. The trans-
lation was published by Mr. Bliss, of New York, in the
winter of 1829. -^^ was completed in two months, and
cost me more hard labor than both the other works. My
remuneration was one hundred and seventy-five dollars.
I never learned how the book sold, but I fear that it had
a limited circulation, owing to the want of interest in the
subject on the part of the profession.

Tavernier's Operative Surgery was my next effort. This
work was comprised in two octavo volumes of nearly five
hundred pages each, and I rendered it into English in less
than three months. ]\Iy rule was always to translate at
least from twenty to twenty-five pages a day, whatever
might be my other engagements, and it was thus I accom-
plished so much in so short a time. Mr. Grigg issued the
book, and it formed a handsome volume of four hundred
closely printed pages. This was the first treatise on opera-
tive surgery ever published in the United States. It had
an extensive circulation. The work, although wholly
a compilation, was well arranged, and is still one of the
best books on the subject. Mr. Grigg paid me four hun-
dred dollars for my labors.

Having disposed of these translations, the first and last
of the kind I ever attempted, I forthwith commenced the
composition of an original work, which was issued by
Mr. Grigg in the autumn of 1830 under the title of The
Anatomy, Physiology, and Diseases of the Bones and
Joints. This work formed an octavo volume of nearly
four hundred pages, and was written in the space of little
more than three months. The title was unfortunate : it

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 43

should have been A Practical Treatise on Fractures and
Dislocations, with an Account of the Diseases of the Bones
and Joints, which the profession, especially the younger
members of it, would have better understood. The work
was well received, and two thousand copies were ex-
hausted in less than four years. Notwithstanding this,
no other edition was ever issued ; first, because I had no
time to bestow upon it the requisite attention, and, sec-
ondly, because I had not the experience which was ne-
cessary to make the work what it should be. I need hardly
add that, young as I was when the book was issued, I had
to depend for the facts mainly upon the labors of others,
though in the composition of it I used my own language.
I have often thought that this work, if entirely rewritten
and brought to a level with the existing state of the
science, might be rendered useful to the younger mem-
bers of the profession, to whom the subjects of which it
treats are a stumbling-block, and who are so often prose-
cuted for malpractice in consequence of the mismanage-
ment of cases of fractures and dislocations. For this book
I never received a cent of remuneration !

All these works were published in about eighteen
months after I took my degree. The different translations
and the book on the Bones and Joints formed nearly fifteen
hundred pages octavo. In addition to this, I assisted the
late Dr. Godman in translating the Duke of Saxe-Weimar's
Travels in the United States, published soon afterwards by
Carey & Lea. This work was written in Gennan, and I
completed about two hundred pages of it in less, I think,
than a fortnight.

My practice during this period was, of course, limited ;
I went little into society and took hardly any recreation.
Depriving myself of pleasure and amusement, I devoted
my time to my task, thus literally verifying the saying of
the Roman, Nulla dies sine linca, I labored day and
night under the stimulus both of ambition and of poverty.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

The house in which I had my office was kept by a
Mrs. Eaton, and was the resort of many well-bred men.
Among the boarders were Mrs. Sparhawk, a venerable
lady, and her daughter. Miss Eliza, who subsequently
married Judge Joel Jones, my former private tutor. In
the list of gentlemen was a Mr. Chester, a high-toned
man, a lawyer by profession, long since dead ; the Rev.
Mr. Brewer, an old retired clergyman, the head of a
young ladies' seminary ; "Johnny Vaughan," as he was
called, a kind-hearted man, a broken-down merchant, an
Englishman by birth, and, at the time referred to, libra-
rian of the American Philosophical Society ; the Spanish
consul, whose name I no longer remember ; and Sears
Cook Walker, a young man of my own age. Dr. Brown,
brother of our minister at the court of France, and the
first Professor of Medicine in Transylvania University,
at Lexington, Kentucky, was for a short time a boarder
in the house ; and, learning that I was engaged in
translating a French work on Anatomy, he was kind
enough to entertain me occasionally with an account of
the more prominent physicians of Paris.

I do not know that I have ever seen a more beauti-
ful type of a man than Dr. Brown. He had a large
head and a magnificent physique, and in his manners and
address was a thorough gentleman. With a mind well
stored with knowledge, added to wealth and leisiire, he
still failed to achieve reputation as a teacher, writer, or
practitioner. Mr. Vaughan was a great talker, and pos-
sessed a large fund of interesting information. One of his
habits was to pick up an acquaintance whenever he could
and bring him to dinner. It was on one of these occasions
that he brought in Dr. John D. Godman, the anatomist,
naturalist, and author, whom I was happy to find seated
next to myself at table. I had heard much of Godman,
but, until now, had never seen him. My feelings were
at once deeply interested. I saw before me a thin, frail,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 45

sickly-looking man, about the medium height, with a
pallid face, black hair and eyes, long lashes, heavy brow,
and a clear, sonorous voice, interrupted at intervals by
a hacking cough, only too surely denotive of the exist-
ence of the relentless disease which, ere long, consigned
him to an early grave. His countenance wore an expres-
sion of deep melancholy, which it was distressing to behold.
In his conversation there was nothing unusual either in
manner or matter ; it was com.monplace. I noticed par-
ticularly his dress : his coat, once black, was much worn,
and torn at the elbow ; his hat was decidedly shabby ; and
his shoes had evidently not been brushed that morning.
Altogether the picture was a sad one, so sad as to make an
impression upon my mind which has never been effaced.
Godman was poor all his life. At the age of tsvo years he
lost his mother, and, as we are informed by one of his biog-
raphers, he soon after became fatherless, friendless, home-
less. Poverty literally pursued him from the cradle to the
grave. "I have," he once exclaimed to a friend, "eaten
the bread of sorrow and drunk the cup of miserv'." Gifted
beyond most of his professional contemporaries, he failed
in almost everything in which he was engaged. With
great powers as an anatomical teacher, he attracted large
but unremunerative classes, and the two medical schools
with which he was for a time connected yielded him no
substantial emoluments. As an operator he was a failure.
At Cincinnati, in the Medical College of Ohio, in which
he held for a short time the chair of Surgery, he lithoto-
mized a man, but was unable to extract the stone. The
poor fellow, it is said, walked afterwards all the way to
Philadelphia, where he was relieved of his burden by Pro-
fessor Gibson, of the University of Pennsylvania. At New
York, in Rutgers Medical College, in which he occu-
pied the chair of Anatomy, his health soon broke down,
and he was obliged to seek recreation and renewed life in
the West Indies some weeks before the close of the first

46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

session. The school, in which he had for his colleagues
such men as Hosack, Mott, Francis, and IVIacneven, was
not remunerative, and, what was worse, its doors were
soon permanently closed by the courts of New York on
account of some illegality in its charter. On his return
from the West Indies, Godman took up his residence at
Germantown, and henceforth devoted himself exclusively
to literary pursuits, which, however, afforded him and his
family but a scanty subsistence. For eighteen months
he performed daily an astonishing amount of work, breath-
ing, as he did, all this time with but one lung, the other
having been destroyed by tubercles. When at length the
hour of his departure arrived he was nothing but a skeleton.
Such a life was a life of true heroism, of sublime self-sacri-
fice. It was during these latter days that I became more
intimately acquainted with him, calling occasionally at his
residence and dining with him several times in town.
Among his last labors was a translation of Levasseur's
Account of Lafayette's Tour through the United States,
and of the Travels of the Duke of Saxe-Weimar. The
latter was a German work, in which, as I have before
said, I rendered him important assistance. He died in
April, 1830, in the thirty-seventh year of his age.

Godman wrote well and constantly. He was a prolific
contributor to the medical press, was for a while editor of
the Philadelphia Journal of the Medical Sciences, and pre-
pared the articles on Zoology for the Enc}'clopasdia Ameri-
cana. His work on American Natural History is well
known ; and his Rambles of a Naturalist has had many
admirers on account of the beauty and fascination of its
style. Notwithstanding the deficiencies of his early educa-
tion, he was an excellent linguist, a good scholar, and a
polished writer. Annapolis is entitled to the honor of his
nativity.

Of Mr. Sears C. Walker I saw a great deal while in the
society of these people. He was within a few months of

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 47

my own age, somewhat above the middle height, with light
hair, eyes, and complexion. He was timid and reticent,
eschewing ladies' society, and keeping aloof from nearly
all in the house. He would, now and then, enter my
office, but his visits were always brief, and he rarely
seemed to be at his ease. He was connected with a
classical seminar}', and spent all his leisure in the study
of mathematics, for which he had great fondness. To a
common observer he presented all the characteristics of an
abstractionist — of a man who lived within himself and for
himself only. The social world afforded him no enjoy-
ment ; he felt like one who had no time to throw away
upon ordinar)^ mortals. As he grew older, as his mind be-
came more expanded, he became dissatisfied with the rou-
tine of a teacher in a classical school, and panted for a
wider field. The study of astronomy had long been a
passion with him, and to this he now devoted most of
his time. His first scientific labor was the construction
of a set of parallactic tables, in 1834, adapted to the lati-
tude of Philadelphia. Soon after, he published in the
Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society an elabo-
rate series of original observations on occultations. In
1837 he prepared a plan for the organization of the obser-
vatory of the Philadelphia High School ; and eight years
later he took charge, at the instance of ]\Ir. Bancroft, then
vSecretar\' of the Navy, of the obsen^atory at Washing-
ton. From this time on his career was a series of tri-
umphs in astronomical obser\^ations, in coast surveys, and
in researches to determine the differences of longitude by
telegraph and other means. That a brain so arduously
and incessantly engaged in scientific investigations re-
quiring the highest order of intellect should wear out pre-
maturely is not surprising. In 1851 he had a slight para-
lytic seizure, evidently due to softening of the brain. As
he strenuously persisted in his labors, this was soon fol-
lowed by mental alienation, which continued up to the

48 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

time of his death, in 1853. Thus perished, at the early
age of forty-eight, one of the brightest intellects of the age,
an ardent devotee of science, and a great mathematician
and astronomer. Walker was a native of Wilmington, a
sm.all town in Sussex County, Llassachusetts. He was bom
in 1805. From my early knowledge of him, of his remark-
able diffidence and reticence, and of his retired habits, al-
most amounting to solitude, I had no idea that he would
live to become so shining a light in the world of science.
He was never married ; he had no fancy for the society of
women. He would much rather contemplate Venus in the
heavens than Venus in petticoats.

The income from my practice during the first year did
not exceed three hundred dollars, if, indeed, it reached
that sum. My patrimony was exhausted, and I had, un-
fortunately, to pay heavy board and office rent. Under
these circumstances I had no business to marry, and yet,
the following winter, I did marry. Left a widow at the
age of twenty with one child, my wife was quite as poor
as myself. We were greatly in love with each other, and
as we could not brook separation any longer we con-
summated an engagement which had existed upwards
of a year. Of course we were foolish, very foolish ; but
how could we help it? Poor people had often married
before, and they had contrived to live and to thrive, and
why should not we ? We economized as much as we
could, but it was up-hill work ; and, after a vain struggle
of eighteen months, we left the city, with sad hearts and
tearful eyes, for Easton, where I soon acquired a respect-
able share of practice, the income from which enabled
me to keep my head above water, although, for a while,
not without difficulty. Gradually, however, I got into
good business, and when I left, two years and a half
afterwards, in October, 1833, for Cincinnati, I was gen-
erally regarded as a scientific practitioner. I soon made
myself known as a hard-working, industrious student.

/<r*

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 49

I spent all my leisure among my books, and attended
with great assiduity alike the poor and the rich. To
keep up and extend my knowledge of practical anatomy,
I erected at the foot of my garden, directly in front
of a hotel, a little building as a dissecting-room, and
obtained a subject from Philadelphia, going there myself
in a buggy^ for the purpose. I dissected generally several
hours a day as long as my material lasted, doing the work
with great care and neatness, and performing at the same
time the more important operations unmolested. I ob-
tained in this way a great deal of information, and, as
I was anxious to impress my knowledge thoroughly
upon my mind, it was my habit ever>^ evening to write
out an account of my daily examinations. All my leisure
during the summer months was spent upon the compo-
sition of a work on Descriptive Anatomy, which, however,
I never entirely completed. I have still in my possession the
manuscript of it. A few months more would have enabled
me to finish it, but other business prevented, and I have
not been sorr>' that it was never published. I am aware
of no prior effort in the English language to change the
nomenclature of anatomy from Latin into English, a plan
which, at my suggestion, was adopted by my pupil.
Dr. T. G. Richardson, now Professor of Surgery in the
University of Louisiana, New Orleans, in his work on
Anatomy, and subsequently by Professor Leidy, of the
University of Pennsylvania, in his text-book on Anatomy.
Among the French and German writers this peculiarity of
nomenclature has been in use for at least two centuries.

I had an ardent desire in my professional youth to be-
come an experimentalist, both with a view of throwing
light upon certain obscure points in physiology, and of
earning some reputation. ]\Iy earliest inquiries were
directed to the investigation of the temperature and coag-
ulation of the blood, topics which, although they had
received considerable attention, were in need of further

1—7

50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

examination. Hewson and Thackara, of England, had
both written upon the subject ; I had read their works,
and noticed their defects. A large field was spread out
before nie ; and if I had not been obliged to earn my
bread by my daily labor, which necessarily distracted my
attention, I might have earned substantial reputation
in this branch of study. As it was, I worked hard,
with little benefit. The coagulation of the blood inter-
ested me very much, and I frequently visited the slaughter-
houses in Philadelphia to examine this process in the ox,
sheep, and hog. Venesection was then a very fashion-
able practice, and I lost no opportunity of making ex-
periments upon the temperature and coagulation of the
blood of the human subject in health and in disease.
These investigations extended through several years, and
resulted in some satisfactory conclusions, which, I now
regret, were never published. I not only verified the
observations of Hewson and Thackara, but I struck out
into imtrodden paths. After I left Philadelphia I made
a series of observations upon the temperature of venous
blood — altogether fifty in number — mostly of healthy per-
sons, and found it, on an average, to be 96° of Fahrenheit,
the maximum being 104°, and the minimum 92°. In
books on physiology the average temperature of the blood
is usually stated at 98°, which, I am sure, is entirely too
high. The results of these observations were published at
Cincinnati, in 1835, in the second volume of the Western
Medical Gazette.

I noticed in these observations a singular phenomenon,
then, if not still, unknown, that, if the arm be tied firmly
for five or six minutes before opening the vein, the tem-
perature of the blood which flows during the first half
minute or so will be several degrees lower than the tem-
perature of that which issues subsequently. In this ex-
periment the blood necessarily remains stationary in the
superficial veins, and its diminished temperature is, no

€55

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 51

doubt, owing to the want of the friction which it experi-
ences in its circulation, as well, perhaps, as to the partial
interruption of the nervous fluid caused by the pressure
of the fillet.

My next experiments were made upon excretion to
ascertain the rapid transit of certain articles, when taken
into the stomach, through the blood by the kidneys. For
this purpose I selected rabbits, to which, after having tied
both renal arteries, I administered protoxide of iron. The
animals were generally killed within fifteen to thirty min-
utes, and in every instance, upon applying to the urine
in the bladder, ureters, and kidneys, a solution of cyanide
of potassium — a most delicate test — well-marked traces of
iron were found in that fluid. My confreres, who remem-
ber the doctrine of solidism, so dominant in the schools in
our younger days, will see that these investigations were
not without their significance. Taken in connection with
experiments made with other articles, they went to show
how readily substances introduced into the stomach find
their way into the circulation, to be afterwards eliminated
by the kidneys and other emunctories. Solidism, long since
exploded, assumed that all impressions upon the human
system in health and disease were made through the organs
and tissues, and that the blood was, so to speak, a mere
passive fluid, designed, to be sure, to nourish the body,
but incapable of receiving or conveying the germs of dis-
ease.

Another experiment, which interested me very much,
was one which had been performed some time pre-
viously by Gendrin, an eminent French pathologist, who,
in 1826, published a great work, in two volumes, on in-
flammation. This experiment was nothing more nor less
than the inoculation of a cat with the virus of smallpox,
taken from a young man whom I was then treating for a
severe attack of this disgusting disease. The object was
to ascertain whether, as the French writer had asserted,

52 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

variola could be produced iu this manner in an inferior
animal. I performed this experiment, not without some
misgivings, in my office, soon after my marriage, and as
the cat was not the most pliant of subjects, but disposed to
protect its rights, I had no little difficulty in accomplish-
ing my purpose. However, after a good deal of exertion,
and some scratches imprinted upon my fingers, I succeeded
in inserting a considerable quantity of fresh virus in its
neck. The animal was now replaced in the box and care-
fully watched. Apart from some suppuration, such as so
often follows upon wounds, simple and complicated, no
effects resulted ; and in a few days, apparently without any
constitutional disturbance, my feline patient was set at
liberty. I did not repeat the experiment.

My experiments upon woinids of the intestines occupied
me more than two years, and involved the sacrifice of up-
wards of seventy dogs. An account of them will be found
in the Western Journal of Medicine and Surgery for 1842-
'43. It was afterwards published in book form. Nearly the
whole edition of the work was lost in a fire which destroyed
the printing-office. The book was favorably spoken of in
the medical journals, especially in the British and Foreign
Medical Review, edited by Dr. John Forbes, of London,
which contained an elaborate and critical notice of it.

During my residence at Easton, in 1833, I served several
times as an expert in important trials, and, on one occa-
sion, as the chief medical witness. The case was that of
Goetter, a man who had killed, by manual strangulation
in the eighth month of her pregnancy, a woman whom
he had seduced. I made the post-mortem examination, but
neglected to open the skull, and on this account I was sub-
jected to a good deal of annoyance during the trial, as the
defence partly rested upon the ground that the woman had
died of apoplexy. It was evident, however, from the marks
upon her neck and the condition of the face and lungs that
she had died from asphyxia, and I gave my testimony ac-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 53

cordingly. The man was convicted solely upon circum-
stantial evidence ; but the day before his execution he con-
fessed that he had choked the woman to death with his
hand. To throw light upon this mode of death, I performed
twelve experiments upon inferior animals, principally rab-
bits, and carefully noted the results, which were afterwards
published in the Western Journal of Medicine, edited by
Dr. Daniel Drake, under the title of Observations on
Manual Strangulation. An outline of these experiments
and of the Goetter case will be found in a note in Beck's
Medical Jurisprudence.

The Goetter trial constituted, I have always thought,
the most important event of my professional life at Easton.
It attracted great attention, not only on account of the
atrocity of the murder, but of the ability of the counsel
engaged in conducting the defence, the master spirit being
the late James Madison Porter, a shrewd and accomplished
lawyer, celebrated for his dexterity as an examiner of wit-
nesses, which, combined with a certain amount of impu-
dence, caused him to be greatly feared. Besides all this,
he was an able advocate. My examination lasted the
best part of a day, and, as I had thoroughly prepared my-
self at every point, my testimony was received with much
respect by the court and jury. An attempt to invalidate
some of my conclusions by bringing in several physicians
as experts failed to make any adverse impression.

Mr. Porter at the time adverted to was in the prime and
vigor of life, and in the enjoyment of a better practice than
any other member of the Easton bar. It was several years
before this event that he founded Lafayette College, origi-
nally a manual labor institution, with the late Rev. George
Junkin at its head. The college building, a rented farm-
house, was situated in South Easton, and was provided
with shops and machinery for the benefit of the students,
most of whom literally supported themselves by the sweat
of their brow ; board and lodging being furnished them at

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

a low price. The establishment made slow progress, and
no one who then watched it would have supposed that
out of its loins would spring the flourishing institution
now widely known as Lafayette College. Dr. Junkin was
an unpopular officer, a Presbyterian preacher of the "Old
School, ' ' and a man who, as he walked along, never took
his eyes off the ground, being evidently lost in deep
thought, and, consequently, in no condition to notice any
one — student, friend, or citizen. Of native kindness he
had an abundance ; he was a good disciplinarian, and was
regarded by many as a strong man in the pulpit for his
argumentative powers and the depth of his reasoning.
His sermons, however, were always very long, and there-
fore unpopular, especially with young persons.

Soon after the organization of the college I was sur-
prised one day to receive a notice of my election to the
chair of Chemistry. Upon inquiry as to what my duties
would be, I was informed that they would for the present
be merely nominal. I therefore considered myself as
perfectly safe in accepting the position, which I should
probably not have done had the reverse been the case, as
I had never made chemistry a special study. This chair,
since the reorganization of the college, has been very cred-
itably filled by Dr. Traill Green, a native of Easton, who,
like myself, was a private pupil of the late Dr. Joseph
K. Swift of that town. Mr. Porter, the president of the
college, was a man of great enterprise, and deeply inter-
ested in the prosperity and development of Easton and its
vicinity. He took an active part in the building of the
Delaware Division of the Pennsylvania Canal and subse-
quently in that of the Delaware and Morris Canal in New
Jersey. When Mr. Tyler became President, he was offered
a seat in his cabinet as Secretary of War, but he was not
confinned by the Senate. Late in life he was struck down
by apoplexy, under the effects of which he finally suc-
cumbed. Some time after the first attack, which left him

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 55

with partial hemiplegia and somewhat impaired mental
powers, he wrote me a long letter, begging me to use any
influence I might have in procuring him the chair of
Medical Jurisprudence in the JejBferson Medical College ;
but as there v/as no provision for such an office the matter
of course fell through. I learned subsequently that he
was in straitened circumstances, and this was probably
the reason of his desire to be made a professor.

Andrew Reeder, one of my most intimate and valued
friends, was one of the rising members of the Easton bar
at the time of my departure to the West. We had known
each other for many years, and had been classmates at the
Lawrenceville High School, New Jersey. His education
was respectable ; and he possessed more than ordinary
talents and legal acumen, united with great industry and
ambition, and a high sense of honor. He was a warm,
active Democrat, and was for some time Governor of
Kansas, an appointment bestowed upon him by President
Pierce. I was then a resident of Kentucky, and upon
hearing of his good luck lost no time in sending him a
letter of congratulation. Strange things happen. While
Governor of Kansas his path was crossed by Dr. William
A. Hammond, of the United States Army, aftervvards for
some time Surgeon-General in the war of the Rebellion.
When Hammond got into difficulty with Secretary Stanton
— a difficulty which finally led to his dismissal — Andrew
Reeder was employed to collect testimony in this city by
the examination of witnesses against the late Surgeon-
General, and I never saw a man who entered more eagerly
upon the discharge of the duties of his office. His object
was to revenge himself upon his Kansas enemy, and how
he acquitted himself the result only too clearly showed. I
was anxious, as the friend of both, that he should be
merciful, and even throw up the appointment, but to this
he lent a deaf ear.

The fate of Andrew Reeder, as Governor of Kansas, is

56 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

well known. Unwilling to sacrifice liis self-respect at the
demands of the border ruffians, and in constant conflict
with the legislature of the State, which moved about
from one place to another, and whose illegal acts he was
compelled to veto, he was succeeded by Wilson Shannon,
ex-Governor of Ohio. My friend's life was finally imper-
illed, and he was compelled to seek safety in flight in the
disguise of a common laborer. Reeder was born near
Trenton, New Jersey, and died in 1864, leaving behind
him the reputation of an honest citizen and a good man.

The most illustrious member the Easton bar has ever
had was the Hon. Samuel Sitgreaves, a gentleman of high
social and professional standing, and for some years min-
ister under John Adams's administration at the Court of
St. James. He was a man of fine literary taste, of great
intelligence and refinement, an extensive reader, a great
lawyer, and the possessor of a large library. He was not
popular with the people among whom he lived, as he was
too great an aristocrat to be estimated by them at his real
worth. He died at an advanced age. He was a tall, ele-
gant-looking man, with a noble presence, such as would
have attracted attention anywhere.

\ The medical profession of Easton at the period in ques-
tion was in a decidedly mediocre condition, without science,
without learning, without progress, and apparently with-
out ambition. Every man seemed to live in and for
himself. Hardly any two could be found willing to meet
each other in consultation. Jealousy and ill-feeling were
the order of the day. Each physician had of course his
little clique or faction. This poor fellow had this fault,
and that one that. But upon one thing all were agreed :
they all bled, all gave emetics, all purged, all starved
their patients. They were all real Sangrados, mowing
down alike the infant, the youth, the adult, and the
old man. Tartrate of antimony and potassium was the
favorite emetic, calomel and jalap the accepted cathartic.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 57

and water-gTuel or panada tlie common fever diet. Very
few of them ever read a medical book ; and, as to social
intercourse, that was of course wholly out of the question
under the circumstances. The remuneration for profes-
sional services was contemptible in the extreme. For a
visit in town the ordinary charge was fifty cents, and
double that sum for a ride into the country. Bleeding
and extraction of teeth, at that time very common opera-
tions, generally commanded twelve and a half cents each !
Every physician put up his own prescriptions. Swift,
my first preceptor, was unpopular in his manners, and pos-
sessed, as he imagined, of a preemption right to the best
practice in the place; but the truth is, his practice was
limited, and he made but little headway, even in his
best days, in securing the confidence of the public. His
early life was unproductive, and the last twenty years or
more were spent in suffering, caused by epithelial cancer
of the face, from the effects of which he finally died.
During nearly all this time he was confined to his house,
unable to attend to practice, and the consequence was that
poverty was superadded to ill health. I can imagine no
fate, no destiny, more sad than this. With all his faults —
perhaps I should rather say defects — Swift had many ex-
cellent qualities ; he was undoubtedly a man of brains,
with a clear intellect, and a lofty sense of the dignity of
his profession. As previously mentioned he had a choice
collection of minerals, now in the possession of Lafayette
College ; but he never cultivated mineralog\' or geology as
a science. Mrs. Swift, who wrote some pretty poetry, and
was a contributor to some of the magazines of the day,
suri'ived her husband several years. They were both great
readers of light literature ; and early in life their little
house was the resort of most of the prominent strangers
who visited Easton on business or pleasure.

In the summer of 1832 the Asiatic cholera appeared,
for the first time on the American continent, in Canada,
1—8

58 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and then in New York. Early in Jnly it broke out with
great violence in New York City, producing much con-
sternation among its inhabitants, as well as everywhere
else in the Atlantic States. Easton, only eighty miles off,
participated in the alarm, and at a meeting of the town
council, held on the 19th of July, 1832, I was appointed
to visit New York for the purpose of investigating the
disease and conferring with the medical gentlemen of that
city upon the most approved mode of treating it ; and I
was requested to report such other matters connected with
the subject as might be of benefit to the citizens of Easton
in averting the epidemic, or which might have a ten-
dency to lessen its malignity, should it unfortunately ap-
pear in that town.

In compliance with this injunction, I soon after visited
New York, arriving there just in time to witness the
disease in all its horrors. In fact, it had just attained
its height ; for, upon the day of my arrival, the 29th
of the month, it had destroyed not fewer than three
hundred and eighty-five persons — an enormous mortality,
considering the comparatively small size of the population,
and the fact that great numbers of people had fled the city
to escape the pestilence. During my sojourn, which lasted
nearly a week, I visited all the cholera hospitals and
witnessed the treatment pursued in them by the profes-
sional attendants. I also conversed with some of the most
distinguished physicians of the city respecting the nature
and treatment of the disease and the best mode of avert-
ing it. Little, however, was learned in this manner. No
one seemed to have definite notions upon any of these
points. Empiricism reigned with imlimited sway. Every
hospital had its peculiar formulae ; every physician his
peculiar views. At the Greenwich Street Hospital, one
of the largest and best-ordered establishments of the kind
in the city, the attendants, Drs. Roe and Lee, relied
mainly upon emunctions of mercurial and capsicum oint-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 59

merit, witli calomel, camphor, and capsicum internally.
The whole body of the patient was incased in a thick
layer of this ointment, and numerous persons whose duty
it was to apply it were at hand. From all I could learn this
mode of treatment was more successful than any other
at the time in vogue. Dr. Roe was an oddity. He ap-
peared to have an idea that the best preventive of the
disease was the maintenance of a copious perspiration, and
he accordingly constantly w^ore, buttoned up to the chin,
a thick drab-colored overcoat, although the thermometer
at the time stood generally at from 94° to 98° in the shade.
He seemed, however, to flourish under this load of cloth-
ing, for he never had an attack of the disease. I was told
that he was a most worthy and intelligent man. He
afterwards enjoyed a large private practice, and died very
suddenly only a few years ago of disease of the heart.
His colleague, Dr. Charles Lee, survived him, and was
well known as an able writer and distinguished lecturer,
being connected at one time v/ith at least four medical
schools. I need not add that most of the patients who
recovered under this mercurial treatment were horribly
salivated.

What struck me as remarkable in cholera patients at
this time, and what I never witnessed afterwards in tliis
disease to the same extent, was the extraordinary spas-
modic twitching of the voluntary muscles after death, by
which the body was frequently thrown into violent contor-
tions. The features were not so much disturbed as the
limbs, especially the legs, which were in numerous in-
stances thrown about in different directions, literally kick-
ing the air and everything else coming within their reach.

After having spent nearly a week in this city of charnel-
houses, in constant attendance upon my duties, I left for
my home, and in a few days after published a report of
my investigations. The paper, which occupied several col-
umns of the Easton Argus, presented a plain unvarnished

6o A UTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D.

statement of what I had seen and done, without any at-
tempt to unravel the nature and causes of the epidemic, or
to indicate the best means, except a proper observance of
the laws of hygiene, of preventing its dissemination. Of
the medical treatment, of which I had learned nothing that
was at all satisfactory, very little was said. The town
council paid me one hundred dollars for my services ; a
considerable portion of which I spent in the necessary ex-
penses of the journey.

CHAPTER III.

MOVE TO CINCINNATI — BECOME DEMONSTRATOR OF ANATOMY IN THE MEDICAL
COLLEGE OF OHIO — MADE PROFESSOR OF PATHOLOGICAL ANATOMY IN CIN-
CINNATI COLLEGE — FACULTY — HORATIO G. JAMESON — ^JAMES B. ROGERS — A
SLIP OF MEMORY — ^JOHN P. HARRISON — LANDON C. RIVES — ^W. H. McGUFFEY—
PRACTICE — DISSECTIONS — PATHOLOGICAL ANATOMY — DECLINE APPOINTMENT
OF PROFESSORSHIP OF MEDICINE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA AND OF
ANATOMY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW ORLEANS — NICHOLAS LONGWORTH —
ANDREW JACKSON — LYMAN BEECHER — ROBERT LYTLE — SALMON P. CHASE —
TIMOTHY WALKER — ARCHBISHOP PURCELL — GAMALIEL BAILEY — BISHOP McIL-
VAINE — DANIEL WEBSTER — GENERAL W. H. HARRISON.

In the spring of 1833 I wrote to Dr. Eberle, one of my
old college preceptors, then a professor in the Medical Col-
lege of Ohio, at Cincinnati, saying that I should be happy
to obtain the place of Demonstrator of Anatomy in that
institution, adding that I was anxious to qualify my-
self as a teacher of anatomy, and that I was only wait-
ing for an opportunity to enter upon my labors. The
mail soon brought me a letter from the good man, who
said that he would lay the matter before his colleagues,
and expressed the belief that he could be instrumental in
serving me. The result was that I was soon appointed
to the position in question, and in October, 1833, I
accordingly removed to the Queen of the West, as Cin-
cinnati was then called. My family at this time con-
sisted of four members, including two little children, my
stepson and one of my own sons having died some time
previously of scarlet fever. The journey, which was
tedious, and was performed partly by stage, partly by
canal, and partly by steamboat, occupied a little up-

62 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

wards of tliirteen days. The evening before my depar-
ture I counted my money, and found in my purse the
enormous sum of two hundred and thirty-seven dollars !
Of this, more than one hundred dollars were left on the
wayside. With the remainder I commenced life in Cin-
cinnati, "a stranger in a strange land;" for Eberle, and
Mitchell the dean of the college, were my only acquain-
tances. I took three letters of introduction to men of
influence in Cincinnati. Of these I delivered two ; but,
as they received no attention, I never delivered the
other, addressed to a gentleman who afterwards attained
eminence in the world as an astronomer, and who be-
came a general in the Union army — Professor Ormsby
M. Mitchel. After this I never, except on one occa-
sion, accepted a letter of introduction to any one, hav-
ing independence enough to rely upon my own resources
and address for advancement in my profession. I, how-
ever, soon carved my own way ; I was popular in my new
office of demonstrator ; went to housekeeping early in the
following spring, and rapidly acquired practice — the pro-
ceeds by the end of the first year amounting nearly to
fifteen hundred dollars, which sum, added to my college
receipts, was quite sufficient for my support, and satisfied
me that I had done wisely in making the West my home.

A little incident occurred soon after my arrival at Cin-
cinnati which, at the time, caused me considerable annoy-
ance. I had hardly entered upon the discharge of my
official duties, when, early one morning, Dr. Mitchell
called at my lodgings and asked me whether I had seen a
certain article in reference to myself in the Cincinnati
Gazette, adding that the Professor of Anatomy had taken
umbrage at it, and that, in consultation with some of his
colleagues, they had come to the conclusion that it would
be best, at all events for the present winter, that I should
not lecture in the amphitheatre, as had been agreed upon
when I accepted the office of Demonstrator of Anatomy.

- SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 63

Upon inquiring what the oflfensive article was, for I had
neither seen it nor heard of it, he informed me that it was
a complimentary notice of myself, in which the writer con-
gratulated the IMedical College of Ohio upon its acquisition
of so able an anatomist — a kind of puflf, intended, as the
Professor of Anatomy, naturally a ver}' jealous man, sup-
posed, to be a reflection upon his ovrn ability as a teacher.
It required no consideration as to what I should do on the
occasion, I therefore at once said, "If the Faculty debar
me from lecturing in connection with practical anatomy,
as had been stipulated, my only course is to withdraw
from the school and get along as best I may. ]\Iy object
in emigrating to the West," I continued, "was to qualify
myself for teaching anatomy, and if this privilege be
denied me I shall be sadly disappointed. ' ' Mitchell there-
upon went away, but returned the same afternoon, saying
that the Faculty had decided to fit up for me a lecture-
room in the attic of the college, close to the dissecting-
room. This was accordingly done, and I now began
in earnest to organize the department, which, up to
that time, had been shamefully neglected ; for upon my
arrival at Cincinnati I found ever>-thing in the depart-
ment of practical anatomy in the college in the most mis-
erable condition. There was not a table, not a water-
tank, not a bench, not a wash-basin in the room ; in short,
nothing that denoted that any dissections had ever been
carried on within its walls. Some students had already
assembled, and the session was to open in a few days. No
time was to be lost. Ever^'thing Vv-as to be done, and
done promptly. Carpenters were at once procured, and
in less than a v:eek my room had quite a furnished
appearance. Out of about eighty-six students, my class
numbered nearly sixty. I gave regularly three lectures
a week, chiefly on surgical and visceral anatomy, kept
the rooms well supplied with subjects, and thus laid the
foundation of the study of practical anatomy, up to that

64 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

time a nominal matter in the Western States. In the
spring and autumn I delivered private courses to small
classes, earning little money, but heaping up valuable
knowledge, and acquiring some reputation as a zealous
anatomist and as a respectable lecturer.

I may here remark that in one of these private courses
my class numbered five students and a half. I say half,
because one of the young gentlemen, under some pretence
or other, although very desirous of attending my course,
could not, he said, be always present, and I therefore
admitted him at half price, my ticket being ten dollars.

The summer after my removal to Cincinnati I became
joint editor, with Dr. Eberle, Dr. Albau G. Smith, and
Dr. Gamaliel Bailey, of the Western Medical Gazette, an
arrangement which continued in force until my retirement
from the school in the summer of 1835. During my con-
nection with this journal I furnished an elaborate paper on
Intra-Uterine Respiration in its Relation to Infanticide,
an account of several surgical cases, and several reviews,
among others one of Dr. William Beaumont's treatise on
the Functions of Digestion. These were the first papers
which I ever prepared for any medical journal. They
were well received.

I remained in the Medical College of Ohio only two
sessions. I did not like my situation. The Faculty was
especially a weak one, composed, for the most part, of sel-
fish, narrow-minded men, with moderate scientific attain-
ments, and little ability as teachers. I could not forget the
illiberal conduct which had sent me to the garret instead
of affording me free access to the amphitheatre. The
writer who had fired the squib in the Gazette knew his
man ; and, although I had reason to believe that he had
no wish to annoy me, he unwittingly did me a positive
injury.

In 1835 the Medical Department of the Cincinnati Col-
lege was organized, with a chair of Pathological Anatomy,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 65

to which I was unanimously appointed by the trustees.
My colleagues were Drs. Daniel Drake, the founder of the
school, Joseph Nash McDowell, Landon C. Rives, John P.
Harrison, Horatio G. Jameson, and James B. Rogers,
nearly all men of brains, energ}^, and laudable ambition,
with a full appreciation of their positions as professors in a
new and rival institution. Jameson and Rogers were
brought from Baltimore under a guarantee each of fifteen
hundred dollars. At the end of the first session Jameson,
having failed to give satisfaction, returned to Baltimore,
and Dr. Willard Parker succeeded him in the chair of
Surgery.

The school continued in operation until 1839, when it
was disbanded, Parker having accepted the chair of Surgery
in the College of Physicians and Surgeons of New York,
and Drake that of Pathological Anatomy and Clinical
Medicine in the Louisville Medical Institute, better known
afterwards as the University of Louisville. The class
during the last session of the college numbered, if I mis-
take not, one hundred and fourteen, and the school was
destined, if its career had not thus been unexpectedly
arrested, soon to outstrip the Medical College of Ohio, as
it had a far abler Faculty. The event did not disappoint
me, for, notwithstanding we had a respectable class, and
had made fair progress, the enterprise barely paid, and
as we had lost two of our best men it would have been
difiicult to carry on the institution.

The downfall of the Cincinnati College was, as I now
view it, a fortunate circumstance for me. It left me, in
1839, f'^^^ to devote myself to my practice, which had
already become large and lucrative. The retirement of Dr.
Drake caused angry remarks on the part of certain mem-
bers of the Faculty, chief of whom was McDowell, his
brother-in-law. Drake knew how difficult it would be
to build up a great school in the existing state of affairs,
and the offer received from Louisville, with the promise of
1—9

66 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

rapid reward, was too tempting to be resisted. He was
poor, had had numerous reverses, and needed assistance.
Besides, he had lost nearly all his practice, and w^as not
likely to regain it if he should remain in Cincinnati. The
retirement of Parker could not be immediately remedied.

Some errors were committed in the original organiza-
tion of the college. It was without funds, even without
a suitable edifice ; and there was not a member of the
Faculty who had a hundred dollars lying idle in bank.
Upon five of us devolved all the expenses of the outfit for
a successful course of lectures, besides the guarantee of the
two professors above named. The whole schem-c looked
like an attempt to roll logs up a steep hill. One great
mistake was the appointment of Dr. Jameson to so impor-
tant a chair as Surgery. He had been a signal failure as a
teacher of surgery in the Washington Medical College at
Baltimore, and was superannuated when he was invited to
Cincinnati. Any fire he ever might have had had long
been extinguished. He was too unsympathetic to please
the student ; too old to acquire practice. He felt the lone-
liness of his situation, and was glad, on the offer of a thou-
sand dollars, to return to Baltimore. In his earlier days
he was not without some merit ; he was a bold surgeon,
and performed some creditable operations. As a teacher
he was a sad failure, and he should have had sense
enough never to venture into a Western lecture-room in the
presence of such a man as Daniel Drake and some of
his colleagues. Jameson was the founder of the Maryland
Medical Recorder, and he wielded a caustic pen as a re-
viewer, although he could lay no claim to the character
of an elegant writer. His journal perished before he set
out for Cincinnati. After his retirement from his chair,
he spent the remainder of his days in indigence and ob-
scurity.

James B. Rogers, our other imported colleague, was
unlike his fellow-townsman ; indeed, the very opposite,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 67

for he was a brilliant teacher, and decidedly the most
excellent lecturer on chemistr}' I have ever listened to,
I do not except from this eulog}^, so justly merited,
even his brother, Robert E. Rogers, so well known
for a third of a century' as an eloquent expounder of
the same branch of science, and for a number of years
my honored colleague in the Jefferson Medical College.
Rogers belonged to an extraordinary family of scientists.
The father, a Scotch-Irish gentleman, came to this coun-
try near the close of the last century, graduated in medi-
cine, in 1802, in the University of Pennsylvania, and was
Professor of Natural Philosophy and Chemistry in William
and Mar}' College, at Williamsburg, Virginia, from 1819
until his death in 1828. Had he lived a third of a cen-
tury longer, he would have had cause to be proud of
his four sons, every one of whom made his mark in the
study of the natural sciences, especially chemistry and
geology.

After he left Cincinnati James removed to Philadelphia,
where he engaged as a private teacher of chemistry, be-
sides lecturing for a number of years on that branch in
Chapman's Medical Institute, and assisting his brother,
Professor Henry D. Rogers, in his geological surveys of
Pennsylvania and Virginia. He also occupied, for a short
time, the chair of Chemistry in the Franklin College of
this city ; but the crowning glory of his life was the chair
of Chemistry conferred upon him, in 1847, ^^ ^'^^ retire-
ment of the great Professor Hare, in the University of
Pennsylvania. He had hitherto met with nothing but
crosses and rebuffs, a victim of the res angusta domi. A
bright future seemed to be dawning on him. This, how-
ever, was destined to be of short duration. The deleterious
gases of the laboratory, preying upon a constitution natu-
rally delicate, had long been undermining his health, and
were now gradually sapping the foundations of life. After
a connection of five years with this great school he closed

68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

his mortal career in 1852. He left no legacy for his family
except an honored name.

Henry D. Rogers, after having earned a great reputation
as a scientist, spent the evening of his life in Glasgow as
Regius Professor of Natural History in the University of
that city. His geological and palseontological researches
and his various writings made him widely known in both
hemispheres, and his death, in 1866, was everywhere
much regretted.

Professor William B. Rogers, after having occupied
several scientific positions in Maryland and Virginia, re-
moved to Boston in 1853, where he assisted in founding
the Massachusetts Institute of Technolog>^, of which he
was the first President. He was the author of a number of
scientific treatises, and President, in 1875, of the American
Association for the Advancement of Science. His death
took place suddenly, while he was in the act of distributing
the prizes on commencement day to the students of the
Institute of Technology.

Professor Robert E. Rogers, the sole survdvor of this re-
markable family, is still actively engaged in the discharge
of the duties of his chair in my Alma Mater. The only
family that presents any parallel to this in this country
was that of the Becks, mentioned elsewhere.

A circumstance of a personal nature connected with my
early colleague I must not omit to refer to here, inas-
much as it serv^es to show the importance of preserving
letters, too often destroyed almost the moment they are
received. I have already stated that Rogers came to us
imder a guarantee for three years, pledged to him by five
members of the Faculty. When the school was disbanded,
my share amounted to three hundred dollars, which I
liquidated by check drawn on Philadelphia in 1841, soon
after my removal to Louisville. Six years after this,
what was my surprise when, one day, I received a letter
from him kindly reminding me of my supposed indebt-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 69

edness. Assured that the obligation, principal and interest,
had been discharged long ago, I promptly consulted my
well-filled bag of letters in the attic of my house, and
there, after an elaborate and fatiguing search, found the
desired voucher in the handwriting of my excellent friend,
whose memory' had for once proved treacherous. A more
honest man, and, I may add, a more amiable one, than
James B. Rogers never breathed.

Dr. John P. Harrison was, if I mistake not, a native
of Kentucky. He had made all his arrangements to move
to Philadelphia when, as he was on his way to that city,
he was offered the chair of Materia Medica and Thera-
peutics in our infant school. He had culture, with enthu-
siasm and earnestness in the lecture-room, and was popular
with the students ; but he was essentially a weak man, an
imitator, as a writer and lecturer, of the inelegant st}"les of
Caldwell and Chapman, and, like them, a hide-bound solid-
ist — men who did not think it possible for the blood to be
endowed with the slightest vitality. It is difficult now to
conceive that there existed physicians so recently who
could have believed in such absurdity. After the dissolu-
tion of our school he accepted the corresponding chair in
the Medical College of Ohio, and wrote a work on Materia
Medica and Therapeutics, which fell, as he might have
supposed it would, stillborn from the press.

Our Professor of Midwifery' was Landon C. Rives, a gen-
tleman of education and refinement, a native of Virginia,
and the brother of William C. Rives, at one time minister
at the court of France. He discharged well the duties of
his chair, was popular, and commanded general respect
by the gentleness and urbanity of his manners. He had
but one fault; he lacked industry, a gift so valuable in
a teacher. He disliked writing, and never made an at-
tempt at authorshii). The Medical College of Ohio was
glad to secure his services as Professor of Obstetrics after
the downfall of our bantling. I was warmly attached to

70 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Rives, and we remained devoted friends up to tlie time
of his death. Of Drake and Parker mention will be made
in due time in connection with various labors.

McDowell was an eloquent and enthusiastic teacher of
anatomy ; he had a remarkable gift of speech, and could
entertain and amuse his class in a wonderful degree. He
never hesitated to go out of his way to abuse a professor
in another school, or to talk disparagingly of a colleague ;
and borrowing money from students was not regarded by
him as a crime. His conduct in St. Louis, where he settled
after the breaking up of our school, was that of a madman
rather than that of a sane person. During the late war he
embraced the Southern cause, fled to Europe, and finally,
with the reputation of an erratic genius, he died in a state
of utter bankruptcy. Jealousy was one of his consuming
vices, and no man ever wagged a fouler tongue. With
proper training and proper self-restraint he might have
become a great and shining light in medicine, instead of
being a byword on the part of the public and of his pro-
fessional brethren. Such was Joseph Nash McDowell !

Our hospital, so necessary an adjunct to a well-organized
medical school, was generally deficient in inmates, and we
had, consequently, to do the best we could under the cir-
cumstances. Our nurse was an Irishman, named John,
and our enemies amused themselves by saying that, when
we were short of patients, John served as a substitute by
imitating all sorts of accidents and diseases. Great rivalry
existed between the two schools, and our opponents used
every possible effort to keep our students out of the Com-
mercial Hospital, at that time the only institution of the
kind in Cincinnati.

The Cincinnati College had, as contemporaneous organi-
zations, a literary and a law department. It was the in-
tention of its founders, especially of Dr. Drake, to establish
eventually a great university. Its President was the Rev.
Dr. W. H. McGuffey, at one time President of the Miami

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 71

University, a man of culture and great force of character,
who afterwards occupied a chair in the University of Vir-
ginia, and acquired distinction as a writer of school-books.
Conjoined with his duties was the office of lecturer on Men-
tal Philosophy, and he was one of the ablest and most elo-
quent speakers I have ever listened to. In the literary de-
partment the principal professors were Ormsby M. Mitchel;
Mr. Harding, a }'oung man of some cleverness ; and Alex-
ander H. McGufifey, a brother of the president and a son-
in-law of Dr. Drake. In the law department were Edward
Mansfield and Judge Timothy Walker, author of An In-
troduction to American Law, a work of merit. I am not
certain that Benjamin Drake, a brother of my colleague,
did not also, for a time, occupy a chair in it.

After the downfall of the College I devoted myself,
heart and soul, to the practice of medicine and surgery.
My business rapidly increased, and when I left Cincinnati
in the autumn of 1840 my books for the preceding twelve
months showed an income of a little upwards of nine
thousand dollars. I had for several }'ears a large con-
sultation practice, and patients began to pour in upon me
in considerable numbers from a distance. The names of
more than one hundred of the most respectable and influ-
ential families of the city were upon my ledger, including
many warm personal friends. My knowledge of the Ger-
man language was of great use to me during my residence
at Cincinnati, especially the early part of it, as much of
my i^ractice, before I became generally known, was among
the German emigrants and persons of German descent,
natives of the country.

After my appointment to the chair of Pathological
Anatomy in the Cincinnati College, I commenced at once
a course of study to aid me in the discharge of my official
duties. Indeed, I may say, I abandoned myself almost
wholly for tlie first few years to the illustration of my de-
partment. I bought all the books upon the subject that

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

I could find, and my medical friends did all they could
to throw post-mortem examinations into my hands. A
large field was thus afforded me for the study of morbid
structure, which I most gladly and thoroughly worked
up. It was my custom to make the dissections as com-
plete as possible, spending often upwards of two hours
upon each case, and carrying away with me the more in-
teresting specimens for future and more minute inspec-
tion. After a careful and sometimes protracted exam-
ination, of which full notes were always taken, the
specimens were thoroughly macerated, and then preserved
in alcohol. In this way I laid the foundation of a museum
of pathological anatomy, which, when the college was
broken up, contained a large number of valuable prepara-
tions.

It was from these dissections, from an elaborate course
of reading, and from numerous visits to the pork and
slaughter houses of Cincinnati,^ that I derived the know-
ledge upon which I founded my work on Pathological
Anatomy, issued in 1839, in two octavo volumes of more
than five hundred pages each. The work was illus-
trated by numerous wood-cuts and several colored engrav-
ings. Dr. William E. Horner, Professor of Anatomy in
the University of Pennsylvania, had, it is true, previously
published a small book on Pathological Anatomy ; but
it was made up mainly of extracts from Broussais and
other writers, interspersed with cases and dissections oc-
curring in his own practice, private and hospital. As far
as I know, mine was the first attempt ever made in this
countr\', or, indeed, in the English language, to system-
atize the subject and to place it in a connected form before
the profession. The book was well received. A second
edition, greatly enlarged and thoroughly revised, much
of it having been rewritten, was issued in 1845 t>y Bar-
rington & Haswell, of Philadelphia, in one large octavo
volume of eight hundred and twenty-two pages, illus-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 73

trated by colored engravings and two hundred and fifty
wood-cuts. It was full of marginal references, which
greatly enhanced its value. A third edition — the last
one — modified and carefully revised, and illustrated
by three hundred and forty-two engravings on wood,
appeared in 1857 from the press of Blanchard & Lea.
It fonned an octavo volume of seven hundred and
seventy-one pages. It was, in some degree, an abridgment
of the second edition, and yet it comprised a very good
outline of the existing state of the science. I was assisted
in its preparation, especially the microscopical portion, by
Dr. J. T\I. Da Costa, now my distinguished colleague, who
was well informed on the subject. The labor of re-
writing and dovetailing of course devolved upon me. I
never liked this edition. It always seemed to me as if
the work had been emasculated, inasmuch as I left out all
marginal references and all that related to diagnosis.

The work, in its original form, cost me much labor and
anxiety. It was written when I was a young man, without
any one to advise or guide me, in my leisure hours, often
snatched from sleep, and under the exhaustion of fatigue,
when one is ill-qualified for healthful mental exertion. A
solitary lamp was generally my only companion, in a base-
ment office, and it was often past the hour of midnight
before my head pressed its pillow. Upwards of three years
were spent upon its composition. When the manuscript
was completed I offered it to different publishers in
Philadelphia and New York, but no one was willing to
undertake its publication, and it was only after a good deal
of hard work that I finally succeeded in inducing Marsh,
Capen, Lyon & Webb, of Boston, to bring it out. After
much delay it at length appeared, under the title of Ele-
ments of Pathological Anatomy. For this edition I received
no remuneration. The Boston house failed soon after its
publication, and did not even pay the proof-reader, the late
Dr. Jeffries Wyman, who had kindly agreed to perform

74 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

this office for me. The second edition yielded twelve
hundred dollars, and the last edition one thousand dollars.
The work was dedicated to my friend and colleague, Dr.
Daniel Drake.

There is one feature of this book which is worthy of
special notice. I refer to the fact that the description of
the morbid anatomy of every organ in the body was pre-
ceded by an account of its healthy color, weight, size, and
consistence, founded upon original observation, a plan
until then unknown in such works. The labor bestowed
upon these investigations involved much trouble and pains-
taking. It was an important advance in the study of
pathological structure.

While this work was in progress I contributed a con-
siderable number of papers, original and in the form of
reviews, some of them quite elaborate, to the Western
Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, edited by
Dr. Drake ; instructed a number of office students ; at-
tended to a large and onerous practice ; and never missed a
lecture. In 1839, soon after the collapse of the Cincinnati
College, I was unanimously appointed Professor of Medi-
cine in the University of Virginia, a compliment so much
the more honorable because it was entirely unsolicited on
my part. In fact, I knew nothing of it until I received
my official notification. The offer was promptly declined.
The chair was soon afterwards given to Dr. Howard, of Bal-
timore. I had also during my residence at Cincinnati the
offer of the chair of Anatomy in the University of Louisi-
ana, at New Orleans, founded by the late Dr. Charles A.
Luzenberg, who was a graduate of the Jefferson Medical
College, and for a number of years a warm personal friend.

Among those who were most prominent at this time
as practitioners were ' ' Charley' ' Woodward, as he was
familiarly called, a man of great mental and physical
activity, whom I frequently met in consultation, and
who never saw me without telling me how many patients

SAMUEL £>. GROSS, M. D. 75

he had already visited during the morning, and how much
he had ' ' booked' ' the day before ; Dr. Richards, a refined
and an excellent gentleman, who enjoyed for a long
time the most select practice in the Queen City ; Vincent
Marshall, who was distinguished mainly as the husband
of a noted belle in her day — for his anecdotes of Mott
and Strong, whose pupil he had been — and for button-
holing his friends on the street ; John IVIorehead, Pro-
fessor of Midwifery in the Medical College of Ohio, an
Irishman who, although he lived nearly half a century in
this country, never became a naturalized citizen, and late
in life returned to Ireland to inherit a large estate ; Wil-
liam Wood, a man of some talent, but of an ill-gxained,
crooked disposition ; Israel Dodge, the prying doctor, as
he was called, who knew ever}-body's business better
than his own ; Dr. Simmons, who afterwards settled in St.
Louis, where he married his second wife's daughter, and
was driven from the town ; John Shotwell, a man of abil-
ity, who took special delight in persecuting his old friend,
Dr. Drake ; and Dr. Silas Reed, who became engaged in
a "difficulty" with Dr. Jedediah Cobb, which, through the
happy interposition of the police, did not terminate in a
duel. IVIason and Whitman, the one a fussy man, and the
other a dull, heavy one, buried themselves under their dig-
nity, and had but a small share of practice. Professor Reu-
ben D. Mussey enjoyed a commanding surgical business,
and Dr. Noah Worcester, his partner, a shrewd Yankee,
made a specialty of skin diseases, on which, I think, he
wrote the first treatise ever published in this country.
There was an oculist in the city, of great pretensions, of
the name of Waldo, whose habit was invariably to pray
with and for his patients before he operated upon them.
Cobb never enjoyed a commanding practice, and Eberle
was too much of a bookworm to secure the favor of the
people.

I must not forget to mention, in this place, the name

76 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of a physician who, although young and obscure during
my residence in Cincinnati, loomed up afterwards as a
practitioner and a politician. Dr. John L. Vattier was a
graduate of the Medical College of Ohio, and in his early
days was a druggist. Being gradually drawn aside from
his profession, he became a State senator, was postmaster
at Cincinnati under Pierce and Buchanan, and served in
various positions of trust and honor until his death in
1881. He was a man of fine physique, and the idol of his
friends. He was the survivor of the Last Man Society, of
Cincinnati, founded in that city during the invasion of
the Asiatic cholera in 1832, and composed originally of
seven members. A bottle of wine was sacredly preserved
in a casket, to be opened by the survivor, and for many
years he sat down alone at the table, with six empty plates
and chairs, sad reminders of the past, and drank to the
memory of his departed friends. After his death a touch-
ing sketch of his life was published in the Cincinnati lyan-
cet from the pen of Dr. J. H. Buckner.

The society of Cincinnati was at that time very good.
It contained many cultivated men and women, and there
was, for a long time, a club which met at one another's
houses to read essays and discuss literary matters. The
entertainments were usually very simple and unostenta-
tious, consisting of coffee, tea, lemonade, cake, and ices.
Dr. Drake sometimes treated his guests to doughnuts, and
to lemonade dipped out of a buckeye bowl, which acquired
an American celebrity. He thus entertained one evening
a large party given to General Winfield Scott. The occa-
sion excited a good deal of merriment at the expense of
the host. The hero of Lundy's Lane had no doubt ex-
pected a more substantial repast.

Among the men whom I also frequently saw were Judge
Jacob Burnet ; General William Lytle, and his son ; Dr.
Lyman Beecher ; Charles Hammond, editor of the Cin-
cinnati Gazette ; Rev. Dr. Calvin Ellis Stowe, the hus-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 77

band of I\Irs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Professor in the
Walnut Hill Theological Seminary ; Salmon P. Chase, af-
terwards Chief Justice of the United States ; Archbishop
Purcell ; Judge Wright, an astute law}'er and politician,
the successor of Charles Hammond in the Gazette ; Bishop
Mcllvaine ; Rev. Dr. Brooke, an eloquent preacher of the
Episcopal Church ; the Rev. Dr. Aydelotte ; Judge David
K. Este ; George Schoenberger, and Wright Smith, a
whole-souled man, of whom I have many pleasant recol-
lections. "Billy" Greene, as he was familiarly called,
was a pretentious lawyer, but a pleasant, sociable, and in-
telligent gentleman from Rhode Island.

One of the eccentric men, of whom Cincinnati at one time
had several, was Mr. Nicholas Longworth, originally from
Newark, New Jersey. He had settled in the West many
years previously, and had, by judicious investments, ac-
quired great wealth. He was a man of small stature,
and was noted for his oddities, a marked one of which
consisted in walking along the thoroughfares of the city,
whittling pine sticks with a small knife, and lost, appar-
ently, to all surrounding objects. Of course, ever^'body
knew him. In his later years he exerted himself in intro-
ducing grape culture in the neighborhood of Cincinnati,
and he was one of the first in this country to manufacture
champagne, of which he had at one time a large supply in
his cellar, built expressly for that purpose.

In the autumn of 1837, late in October, if my memory
is not at fault, General Andrew Jackson, on his way to the
Hermitage, stopped at Cincinnati as the guest of General
William Lytle. The evening after his arrival a grand re-
ception was given him, which was attended by all the
prominent citizens of the place. The crowd was immense,
the grounds were brilliantly lighted, and the whole scene
was one to be remembered by those who witnessed it. My
wife and myself were of the party, and thus an excellent
opportunity was afforded us of obtaining a view of a man

78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

who, during- his political career, had perhaps more friends
and more enemies than any other American ever had. On
this occasion, in looking at this great man — for so the
world must regard him — I was forcibly impressed by his
venerable appearance, the dignity of his demeanor, and the
suavity and grace of his manners. He had the elegance
and polish of a courtier. His hair, nearly white, was
brushed back, as in his earlier days, and his countenance
shone with peculiar benignity. No one who then stood in
his presence would have supposed that he could ever have
stamped his foot in a rage and uttered the memorable
words, " By the Eternal, I'll hang you on Capitol Hill if
you do not stop these treasonable acts !" He was the lion
only when excited — the lamb in his ordinary life. He
could roar, but there was also music in his voice, as sweet
and gentle as that of the most delicate and refined woman.
I had long felt a desire to see this extraordinary personage ;
and I left the house of General L^^tle with the conviction
that I had looked upon an honest man without the aid of
the lantern of Diogenes. General Jackson was accompa-
nied by Mr. and Mrs. Polk.

Lyman Beecher was a man of rare character, of great
powers of mind, and of indomitable energy. Early in
life he worked, it is said, in a blacksmith shop ; but
becoming disgusted with his occupation he entered Yale
College and afterwards studied divinity, in which, as is
well known, he gradually rose to great and well-merited
eminence. By rare industry he surmounted the obstacles
which his poverty and early deficiencies had placed in
his path, and long before he attained middle age he had
acquired the reputation of being a learned man. As a
preacher, he was eccentric, argumentative, and dogmati-
cal, and withal tedious, his sennons being always long
and decidedly dry. Although in my judgment he was not
a very eloquent speaker, he commanded good houses on
account of the orthodox character of his discourses. His

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 79

pronunciation of certain words was peculiar. For example,
he alwa^'S said " natur" for nature, and "critter" for crea-
ture— sounds which, coming from a great preacher, grated
harshly upon one's ears. In private conversation he was
exceedingly agreeable and communicative, and he had the
happy faculty of making every one feel at ease in his
presence. He was for nearly twenty years President of
Lane Seminary at Cincinnati, took an active interest in
the temperance cause, and was the author of a number
of works much esteemed in their day. Lyman Beecher
affords a significant illustration of what may be accom-
plished by persistent effort, guided by a vigorous intellect.

One of the most brilliant men in Cincinnati at the time
here referred to was Robert Lytic, generally known by
the sobriquet of '' Bob." He was a man of brilliant intel-
lect, eloquent, impulsive, handsome, fascinating in his
manners, and distinguished for his ability in controlling
the masses. Like his father, one of the early settlers of
Ohio, and a gentleman at one time of great wealth, Robert
was a strong Democrat ; he w^as a capital stump orator,
and represented the Cincinnati district for a time in Con-
gress. His popularity was his ruin. I attended him during
his last illness. Death, the immediate cause of which was
phthisis, overtook him at New Orleans, whither, despite
my remonstrance, he went to eke oiit his brief existence.

Salmon P. Chase, whom I knew well as a young man,
was tall and handsome, erect as a pole, ambitious, highly
cultured, and very agreeable in his manners. A teacher
of a classical school in his younger days, he studied
law in the ofhce of Chief Justice Cranch, of Washing-
ton City, and by industry, talent, and genius gradually
rose to be Governor of Ohio, Secretary- of the Treasury'
under Mr. Lincoln, and Chief Justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States. Such an amount of success
betokens great natural ability, and an amount of labor
such as few men, even of iron constitution, can endure.

8o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

One regrets, in looking at Mr. Chase's pure and patriotic
life, that he failed to attain the goal of his ambition — the
Presidency of the United States, an office which he was
so well qualified to fill with credit and dignity. As a
financier during the critical period of our history, when
our currency was tottering to and fro, his labors were of
inestimable ser\dce.

Timothy Walker, a contemporary of Chase, was the im-
personation of a bon vivant. He had a large head, a ruddy
complexion, and a stout, masculine frame, which looked as
if it might last a hundred years ; and yet, under the influ-
ence of fast living, with three and often four heavy meals
a day, washed down with generous wine, he broke down
at a comparatively early age. Apoplexy did the w^ork.
Although Mr. Walker occupied a high position at the bar,
and was successively a judge, a lecturer in a law school,
and a writer on law of some note, he was inferior to Mr.
Chase in great intellectual qualities, and in those attri-
butes of character which place a man head and shoulder
above his contemporaries.

Of Bishop, now Archbishop, Purcell my recollections are
very pleasant. He is one of the most affable and genial
of men, a delightful talker, full of anecdote, rich in know-
ledge, a finished scholar, and a popular as well as a great
preacher. The Catholic Church is indebted to him for
much of the influence and elevated position which it en-
joys in the Western States. I had personally lost sight of
the good Archbishop for nearly a third of a century, when,
in June, 1875, I had the pleasure of meeting with him
at the Cathedral, on Logan Square, at the conferring of
the pallium upon Bishop Wood, a ceremony by which
that good prelate was made an archbishop. He had the
same bland countenance and the same cordial shake of the
hand as at our last interview in Cincinnati.

The Cincinnati Gazette was for a long time the princi-
pal political newspaper, not only of Cincinnati, but of all

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 8i

the States east of Kentucky. Its editor at the period in
question was the well-known Charies Hammond, under
the influence of whose trenchant pen the Gazette obtained
a wide circulation. He was one of the most caustic of
writers, and one of the most bitter of men. Many of his
articles were of a withering character ; and he never hesi-
tated to slaughter an enemy when it suited his spleen or
his interest. I am not certain of his nativity, but my
impression has always been that he came from South
Carolina.

Of the men with whom I was personally acquainted in
Cincinnati, none gave me heartier welcome when I arrived
than Dr. Gamaliel Bailey. We had been students together
in the Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia for two
winters, and had taken our degree at the same time, part-
ing on commencement day with regret, lest we should not
meet again. I was therefore agreeably surprised when I
found that my old friend was a resident of the Queen
City. He had preceded me by several years, and
had already made many friends and had done some good
work, although as a practitioner he had made little head-
way. He had been for some time connected with the Cin-
cinnati Medical Gazette, had assisted Dr. Eberle in the
composition of his work on the Diseases of Children, and
had contributed numerous articles to the daily press. He
soon afterwards founded the Herald, the first antislavery
newspaper published in Cincinnati ; and in 1836, in con-
junction with Mr. J. G. Birney, he established the Cincin-
nati Philanthropist, an abolition journal, which, not-
withstanding his press and other material were destroyed
by a mob, he continued to issue until 1847. -"^^ ^^^^^ y^^^
he went to Washington City, where he immediately founded
the National Era, which at one time had a wide cir-
culation. It was in this paper that Mrs. Harriet Beecher
Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" first appeared. Bailey
was by nature a self-willed man, bold, stubborn, de-

82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

tennined, and not to be pushed aside from any under-
taking in which he had once fairly embarked, or which
involved the defence of what he regarded as important
principles. To these qualities, which as often destroy as
make men, and which are always sure to hatch a numerous
brood of enemies, he added no inconsiderable amount of
fanaticism, which often betrayed him into difficulties. His
wife, a clever little woman, of more than ordinary cul-
ture, was in unison with his antislavery movements, and
was herself a frequent contributor to the Era. Many of
her articles were spirited and well written. Life with
Bailey was a constant struggle ; he was poor when he left
Cincinnati, and my impression is that he never enjoyed
pecuniary prosperity. In stature he was about the middle
height, well proportioned, with black eyes, and a hand-
some face, expressive of benevolence. He was a native
of Mount Holly, New Jersey, where he was born in De-
cember, 1807. His death occurred at Washington City,
in June, 1859, ^^^ ^^^^ fifty-second year of his age. Bailey
was never designed by nature for a practitioner of medi-
cine ; his manners were cold, and he was too retired in his
habits to be popular with the masses. As a philanthropist
he was sincere in his convictions and honest in his acts ;
and his name will always be associated by the colored
race with the names of Garrison, Lundy, Knapp, Beecher,
and others.

Bishop Charles P. Mcllvaine was a magnificent man,
tall, erect, well formed, with the mien and bearing
of a prince, just such a man as would anywhere, in a
crowd, in the street, or in the social circle, attract
general attention. His features were fine ; his eyes were
brown, his forehead and nose well shaped, and his mouth
and teeth perfect. It has been said that he strongly
resembled Washington ; and in looking at Stewart's cele-
brated portrait of the "Father of his Country" I have
often been struck with the comparison. He belonged

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 83

emphatically to that old school of gentlemen who at
one time abounded in this countr}^, but of whom few
are to be seen in our day. Bishop IMcIlvaine had all
the graces and accomplishments of the Christian gentle-
man. Affable, kind, courteous, he touched the hearts
of all with whom chance or business brought him in
contact. If, in early life, as was said of him, there
was a certain hauteur in his manner, he certainly had
nothing of the kind in his riper years. Young men,
and )'Oung women too, often assume airs ; and it is quite
possible that the young and handsome divine might occa-
sionally have indulged in such a freak. Men who are
much courted and caressed, or who are great favorites with
the ladies, are v^ry liable to be spoiled and sometimes
even ruined. Petted and feted, he never for a moment
lost sight of the dignity of his office or of his self-respect.
As he was a prince of a man, so he was a prince of a
bishop. Few men ever wore their clerical robes with more
grace and dignity. As he stood up in the pulpit, earnestly
expounding the doctrines of the Bible, or controverting
some heretical notions, there was a majesty about him,
a sort of divine presence, which at once riveted the
attention of his hearers and carried with it the force of
conviction. His voice was not only sweet, but strong
and well modulated, his manner earnest and impressive,
his gestures graceful. His sermons, which were often,
if not generally, argumentative and learned, abounded in
strong sense, and rarely, if ever, offended by their length ;
their style was unifonnly polished, scholarly, and free from
cant or affectation. Of his numerous works, the ablest,
perhaps, is his Evidences of Christianity, which, written
when he was comparatively a young man, has passed
through numerous editions, and has made his name widely
known at home and abroad. Some of his writings were
of a controversial character, and were severely criticised
by his opponents. Of this character was his Oxford

84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Divinity, which brought him into collision with the Ox-
ford Tractarians, but in favor with the authorities of that
famous university, which, in token of its appreciation
of his distinguished merits, conferred upon him, in 1853,
the degree of D. C. L. He occupied many positions of
trust and honor, and was bishop of the diocese of Ohio
for upwards of forty years, or from 1832 up to the time
of his death, in 1873.

My acquaintance with this good prelate extended over
a third of a century. During the latter years of my resi-
dence in Louisville he was for nearly a week an inmate of
my house, having been called thither by business con-
nected with the church. It was during this visit, made
in midwinter, that an occurrence took place which came
very near proving fatal to a large number of persons, in-
cluding the Bishop. He had said good-bye to my family
and was on his way to the other side of the Ohio River to
take the train for Cincinnati. As the river was full of ice,
the ferryboat soon became uncontrollable, and was by the
merest accident prevented from being swept over the falls.
As no very secure landing could be effected, it was not
without great difficulty that the passengers, including men,
women, and children, were at length put on shore. While
this was going on every entreaty failed to induce the
Bishop to leave the vessel, and it was not until after every
one was safely landed that he quit it. Had it not been for
his courage and great presence of mind it is impossible to
say what might have happened during the great alarm
and confusion which had seized all on board.

I saw Bisboj) Mcllvaine for the last time in July, 1872.
He was then sojourning with his daughters in St. John's
Wood, near Ivondon ; and, having learned that Mrs. Gross,
my son, and myself were in lodgings on Princes Street,
he was kind enough to visit us. During the hour which
he spent with us he talked with his accustomed vigor and
animation, dwelling with peculiar gratification upon his

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 85

intervaews with the Prince of Wales and his family, and
telling us some interesting anecdotes about the children.
It was not, however, without deep concern that I witnessed
the change which had taken place in his appearance since
we had parted with him a few years before in Philadelphia.
He had become thin and pale, and there was a sinister
stoop in his shoulders denotive of debility. The day was
uncommonly hot, and I would fain have ordered a car-
riage for him had he not resolutely declined the offer. As
he walked away from the door my eye followed him, and
I observed to my wife and son, ' ' We have seen the last
of the good, dear Bishop." My prophecy proved to be
only too true. In the autumn he left London for Florence,
where he expired on the 12th of March, 1873, at the age
of seventy-five )'ears. He was a native of Burlington,
New Jersey.

It was in the summer of 1837 that Mr. Webster stopped
at Cincinnati during his western tour, and that I had an
opportunity of being introduced to him. This office was
kindly performed for me by my friend and colleague, the
late Dr. Daniel Drake, who had made Mr. Webster's ac-
quaintance many years before at Boston, when the great
statesman paid him more than ordinary attention. Mr.
Webster was accompanied by Mrs. Webster and a daugh-
ter, and was staying at the Pear Street House, then the
most fashionable hotel of Cincinnati, as the guest of the
city. It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when
we called, and as it had been announced in the morning
that Mr. Webster would address the people a great crowd
had already assembled around the hotel. We made our
way into the parlor, where we found him seated on a sofa
listening to the conversation of some political friends, in
which he apparently took but little interest. He received
us very courteously, made a few commonplace remarks,
and then relapsed into silence, from which it was impos-
sible to rouse him. He seemed to be dull and heavy, as a

86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

lion or tiger may be supposed to be after having gorged
himself with a heavy meal. I would not have it inferred
from this remark that Mr. Webster was actually in this
condition ; but the impression left upon my mind was that
and nothing else. After sitting perhaps ten minutes we
rose and took our leave. I subsequently learned that Mr.
Webster had occasional fits of lethargy and abstraction.
An hour later he appeared upon the balcony of the hotel,
accompanied by General Harrison, who introduced him to
the populace. Thanking the crowd for their cordial re-
ception of him, he commenced in slow and measured tones
to discuss some of the great political questions which were
then agitating the country, but he never rose during the
hour he thus occupied to that enthusiasm which was so
common a characteristic of western stump orators. As a
speaker, he did not favorably impress me. He was pon-
derous and monotonous, and as to his gestures, nothing
could have been more awkward or more ungraceful. His
forearms, flexed at nearly a right angle with the anns,
moved up and down like sledge-hammers. Although there
was occasionally some cheering, the address failed to touch
the hearts of the audience. If Mr. Webster had been an
invalid, one could readily have accounted for his want of
animation and enthusiasm ; but this was not the case.
Fatigued he might have been, and probably was ; but he
was robust, and in the full vigor of life ; and although he
lost some of his stiffness, if I may so call it, as he pro-
ceeded with his address, most of the crowd went away dis-
appointed. I certainly was so myself, and I heard many
others express themselves in a similar manner. Mr. Web-
ster was a solid rather than a sprightly man, and it is said
that he never made so great an effort as when he was forti-
fied by a pint of brandy and a big beefsteak.

During my residence at Cincinnati I often met with
General William Henry Harrison, the "Hero of Tippeca-
noe. ' ' At that time he lived at North Bend, on the Ohio

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 87

River, sixteen miles below the city ; but he often visited
it, either on business or pleasure. He was a tall, slender
man, and, notwithstanding his advanced age, had an un-
mistakable soldierly air and bearing. He had long been
a victim of facial neuralgia, which, with occasional attacks
of dyspepsia, gave him a "lean and hungry look," in
striking contrast to the fat and sleek appearance of some
of his friends. Personally he was very popular, and the
record which he made as a brave soldier during the war
of 1812-14 rendered him a conspicuous citizen. His pri-
vate character was without reproach. With such a history,
it is not surprising that the Whig party, in 1840, should
have put him in nomination for the Presidency, with
John Tyler on the ticket as his lieutenant. "Tippecanoe
and Tyler too" became the watchword of the party, and
was sung day and night throughout the Union, at the
glee clubs, and in every political procession, almost in-
variably accompanied by one or more "log-cabins," as off-
sets against the many emblems of the Democratic party,
headed by Martin Van Buren, of New York. As the
canvass advanced, Harrison became more and more con-
fident of his success ; and late in October, on the evening
prior to my departure for Louisville, my future home, in
taking leave of me at the house of a common friend, he
accompanied me to the door, and, pressing my hand, he
said, " My dear doctor, before we meet again you will find
that I am President of the United States. I feel sure of
my election. ' ' His words proved prophetic. I never saw
him again. His brief career at the White House is well
known. Naturally and by long habit an early riser, he
forgot, in his familiar walks and visits to the market, that
he lived on the pestiferous banks of the Potomac, where
with every breath he inhaled malaria, which in a few
weeks consigned him to an untimely grave, as it subse-
quently did President Taylor.

General Harrison was a great talker and an agreeable

88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

companion, very fond of ladies' society. He had a large
fund of anecdotes at his command. At our last interview,
above referred to, with much glee and a twinkle in his
brown eyes, he told an anecdote, which caused much mer-
riment among our friends. A young Pennsylvania German
farmer, a personal acquaintance of mine, was exceedingly
anxious to see the general, now the Presidential nominee
of the Whig party ; and knowing that I resided at Cincin-
nati he called upon me to give him a letter of introduc-
tion. He reached North Bend late in the evening, and
after a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast the general
pointed out the objects of greatest interest on his fann,
among others his horses and cattle. My friend admired
everything, but nothing struck his fancy half so much as
a three-months' -old calf browsing on the lawn. Boiling
over with enthusiasm, he exclaimed, ' ' Cheneral, mein
Gott, dat is a mighty fine calf; Cheneral, a mighty fine
calf ; sure a man vat can raise such a calf is wordy to be
Bresident, and I'll wode for him." The general had a
great deal of bonhojnie^ with a keen perception of the
ludicrous, and was, when in his best humor, to use an
English expression, a "jolly man," enjoying a hearty
laugh and a good story.

CHAPTER IV.

RLA.de professor of surgery in LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY — RECEPTION BY
THE MEDICAL PROFESSION — THE UNIVERSITY OF LOUISVILLE — APPOINTED
PROFESSOR OF SURGERY IN NEW YORK — COLLEAGUES — RETURN TO LOUIS-
VILLE— TREATISE ON THE URINARY ORGANS — TREATISE ON FOREIGN
BODIES IN THE AIR-PASSAGES — EXPERIMENTS ON DOGS — WORK ON WOUNDS
OF THE INTESTINES — OTHER CONTRIBUTIONS TO MEDICAL LITERATURE WHILE
IN KENTUCKY — REMINISCENCES — W. J. GRAVES — A FAMOUS DUEL — GEORGE
POINDEXTER — BARON FRIEDRICH LUDWIG GEORG VON RAUMER — ^JAMES P,

ESPY — JOHN J. CRITTENDEN — MILLARD FILLMORE — THE BRECKINRIDGES

JAMES GUTHRIE — ^JOHN ROWAN — HENRY CLAY.

During the spring of 1840 the chair of Surgery in the
Louisville Medical Institute, afterwards the University of
Louisville, became vacant by the forced resignation of Dr.
Joshua B. Flint, who had failed to receive the approval of
his colleagues and pupils as an efficient teacher. Soon after
this event the dean of the Faculty, the late Dr. Charles
W. Short, visited me, in his official capacity, with an offer
of the vacant place, and a guarantee of three thousand
dollars. Before I accepted it I visited Louisville to in-
form myself more fully of the condition and prospects
of the school. Satisfying myself that it was destined,
under proper management, to take a high rank, I re-|
moved to Kentucky late in the following October. The
Faculty was, with one or two exceptions, a very able
one. The most distinguished members at that time were
Charles Caldwell, Daniel Drake, and John Esten Cooke,
who had long been teachers, and had earned an exten-
sive reputation as writers. Cooke was the author of a
work on Therapeutics, and was well known on account
of his peculiar doctrines in regard to the nature and

treatment of diseases. Jedediah Cobb was well-known

1-12 89

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

as an excellent lecturer on anatomy, and as a neat, beau-
tiful dissector. Short enjoyed a wide reputation, both
at home and abroad, as a botanist. Yandell, who had
long taught chemistry, was a capital talker and an able,
pungent writer. Miller was a rising man, although a dull
lecturer ; he has since earned an enviable reputation as an
author and as a practitioner in female diseases. I was the
youngest member of the Faculty ; or, if not absolutely the
youngest, there was a difference of only a few days be-
tween Yandell' s age and my own. I had never taught
surgery, although I had long studied it, and was thor-
oughly acquainted with its principles and practice. I
therefore felt no misgivings in entering ujDon the discharge
of the duties of my chair. Although I stood by the side of
able men, among the foremost in their particular branches
in their day, I felt certain that I should succeed. My ac-
ceptance of the chair had been a conditional one. If, at
the close of the session, I did not fancy my prospects, or
failed to give satisfaction, I could return to Cincinnati,
where my friends were ready to extend to me a cordial
welcome. I determined, however, to remain and to iden-
tify myself with the destinies of the school. The class
during the first winter of my connection with it numbered
two hundred and four. It was subsequently increased to
four hundred and six, the largest it ever had. As we had
no rent to pay, the net proceeds of each chair amounted
for quite a number of years to nearly five thousand dol-
lars annually.

My reception by the medical profession of Louisville was
anything but cordial. The medical school had many ene-
mies. The recent ejection of Dr. Flint had raised an active
opposition, through which, as I had become his successor, I
largely suffered, although I was personally a stranger to
them, and had never said or done anything against any of
them. As soon as it became known that I had signified
my determination to remain in the school, as I did about

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 91

six weeks before the close of the sessiou, they opened their
battery upon me in one of the public journals of the city,
fabricating all kinds of stories, with a view of disgusting
me with my colleagues, and driving me from the place.
Of all this abuse I never took the slightest notice, scarcely
even in private, and the consequence was that they gradu-
ally ceased their opposition, the only effect of which was
to place me in the light of a persecuted man, and to raise
up friends for me. I had the respect and confidence of the
citizens, the good- will of all my colleagues, and the affec-
tion and esteem of my pupils. My ability as a teacher of
surgery' and as an operator was conceded long before the
end of the first session ; the school flourished despite the
malice and detraction of its foes ; and my success as a prac-
titioner was a foregone conclusion. I felt, like Luther,
that, although every tile upon every doctor's house was a
devil, no one could arrest my progress or do me any serious
injury. I was, it is true, placed in a false position with
many good citizens, persons who were unacquainted with
me, and who therefore formed a wrong estimate of my
character. This, however, did not last long. My efforts
were gradually appreciated, and I soon triumphed over
those designing men, not a few of whom became after-
wards my warm personal friends, deploring the part they
had taken against me.

The University of Louisville was, and perhaps still is,
governed by a self-appointing board of trustees. The city
of Louisville gave it one hundred and fifty thousand
dollars, including a large lot, and a most commodious
edifice, library, chemical apparatus, and anatomical mu-
seum. All that the professors had to do was to deliver
a certain number of lectures during every session, and
to pocket the proceeds of their tickets. Their only ex-
penses were janitor's hire and coal and gas bills. In
1849 ^^^ attempt was made by the city of Louisville,
through the Supreme Court of Kentucky, to wrest the

93 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

government of the school from the hands of the men
who had managed its afifairs so well, and to make the
board elective by the people. It was at this particular
crisis that I received the offer of the chair of Surgery
in the University of the city of New York ; and, in doubt
as to how the suit might terminate, I was induced to
accept the offer with a guarantee of four thousand dollars.
Accordingly I passed the winter of i850-'5i with my wife
and three of my children in New York. The winter was
decidedly the most charming I have ever sj^ent. My
labors were comparatively light. I gave four didactic
lectures and held two clinics a week ; and, as I had but
little private practice, I gave myself up to sight-seeing, the
theatre and the opera, private parties, and visits to the
hospitals. I also attended a course of lectures on the
microscope by Mr. Goadby, an English gentleman, and
spent much of my leisure upon the composition of my
work on the Urinary Organs, commenced several years
previously, and completed a short time before the close of
the lectures.

My colleagues in the New York University were Gran-
ville Sharp Pattison, John W. Draper, Gunning S. Bedford,
Martyn Paine, and Elisha Bartlett, all men of distinction
and of more or less ability. Pattison had earned a world-
wide reputation as a brilliant teacher of anatomy ; Draper
v/as well-known as an accomplished chemist and physi-
ologist, and he afterwards achieved immortal fame by
his work on The Intellectual Development of Europe.
Bedford, although an unpopular man, was a successful
teacher and writer ; Paine was celebrated for his great
learning, his dulness as a lecturer, his peculiar doctrines,
and his dififuse style as an author ; and Bartlett enjoyed
a national reputation as a lecturer and a graceful writer.
Mott had resigned the previous spring, and I succeeded
to his chair. I was then forty-five years of age, full
of ambition, and determined to do justice to my posi-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 93

tion. Altlioiigh the class numbered upwards of three
hundred and fifty, and my ticket was twenty dollars, my
colleagues, to meet my guarantee, were obliged to make up
for me nearly two thousand dollars. The school, more-
over, was unpopular with the New York profession ; the
college edifice was ill adapted to its object, living and rents
were exorbitantly high, and, in short, the prospects of the
institution were not such as, in my opinion, to render it
desirable to continue my connection with it. Long before
the session terminated I was solicited by my late colleagues
at Louisville to resume my chair in its University. Dr.
Paul F. Eve, who had succeeded me, had offered to re-
sign in my favor if I wished to return. The suit, which
had been pending when I left, had in the mean time been
decided in favor of the board of trustees ; and, as an addi-
tional inducement, my house had remained unsold. There
was, therefore, no obstacle to my return. Having deliv-
ered the valedictory at the Commencement, soon after the
close of the session I left New York on my return to
Louisville, and in less than a fortnight tendered my resig-
nation. Had I remained in New York I have no doubt I
should have soon obtained a large practice, but, as I had
left a better school, and had a more commanding surgical
practice than any man in the Southwest, I deemed it
pnident to retrace my steps, although I have sometimes
regretted that I did not remain there. Dr. Alfred C. Post
succeeded me ; and, after the death of Pattison, a few
years later, Mott reentered the school as ex-President of
the Faculty and lecturer on Operative Surgery.

On my way from New York to Louisville I left with
Blanchard & Lea of Philadelphia the manuscript of a
work entitled A Practical Treatise on the Diseases, Inju-
ries and Malformations of the Urinary Bladder, the Pros-
tate Gland, and the Urethra, which was published by
that firm in 1851. Such a work had long been needed,
and it was at once accepted as an authority iipon the sub-

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

jects of which it treated. The only monographs on these
affections, of any importance, in the English language, were
those of Sir Benjamin C. Brodie and Mr. William Coulson,
two comparatively meagre productions, deficient in com-
pleteness and unsatisfactory, although valuable, especially
the first. The object of my work, as expressed in the
preface, was to present, in a systematic and connected
form, a full and comprehensive account of the diseases and
injuries of the organs in question. The materials had been
long accumulating upon my hands, and not less than
three years were finally spent in arranging them for publi-
cation. The original design was to issue a separate vol-
ume of plates, of the size of nature, as a companion to the
book ; but it was soon discovered that this would so much
enhance the expense as to place the work beyond the reach
of many of those for whose benefit it was more particularly
prepared. It was illustrated by upwards of one hundred
engravings on wood, of which nearly one-half were ex-
pressly made for it. A second edition, greatly enlarged
and improved, was issued in 1855. It formed a closely-
printed octavo volume of nine hundred and twenty-five
pages, illustrated by one hundred and eighty-four wood-
cuts, and comprised, along with my personal experience, a
digest of the existing state of the science. In an appendix
of twenty-nine closely-printed pages is the first and only
attempt ever made by any writer, as far as I am aware, to
furnish a complete account of the prevalence of stone in
the bladder and of calculous disorders in the United States,
Canada, Nova Scotia, Europe, and other countries. The
preparation involved an immense amoimt of labor in the
way of correspondence, extending through a period of
several years, and yet up to the present time I have never
seen it referred to by any writer, either American or Euro-
pean. Such is reputation ! Such the reward which one
obtains for one's labors ! A new edition of this work has
just been — September, 1876 — issued under the able editor-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D.

ship of my son, Dr. S. W. Gross. He has rewritten much
of the work, has introduced much new matter, and has
thus produced a valuable treatise, fully up to the existing
state of the science.

My work, A Practical Treatise on Foreign Bodies in
the Air-Passages, was issued from the press of Blanchard
& Lea in 1854, in an octavo volume of four hundred and
sixty-eight pages, illustrated by fifty-nine engravings on
wood. Its composition occupied me upwards of two years.
It was the first attempt to S}^stematize our knowledge upon
the subject, and the work is therefore, strictly speaking, a
pioneer work. My original intention was not to write a
book, but to compose a short monograph for some medical
journal. I had not, however, proceeded far before I dis-
covered that I had formed a very imperfect idea of the
enterprise, and that, in order to do it justice, much time
and study would be required. "If," says the preface, "in
the providence of God, the work shall be instrumental in
saving the life of one human being, or even in ameliorating
the sufferings of a single individual, I shall feel myself
amply remunerated for the time I have bestowed upon its
composition. If there be any situation better calculated
than another to awaken our sympathy, it is when we see
before us a fellow-creature who is threatened every instant
with destruction, in consequence of the lodgment of a for-
eign body in the air-passages, without the ability to expel
it or the power to inflate the lungs. It was this reflection
which first induced me, many years ago, to turn my atten-
tion to the subject, and which has finally impelled me to
write this treatise." This work has now been long out of
print. A new edition, much abridged, might be made the
basis of a complete treatise on the surgical affections of the
air-passages. *

* Dr. Morell Mackenzie, the highest authority on the subject in Europe, in
speaking of this work nearly thirty years after its publication, makes the follow-
ing remarks: "This invaluable essay gives full reports of two hundred cases, and

96 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Soon after I had gone to Louisville I instituted a series of
experiments upon dogs, with a view of determining more
accurately than had hitherto been done the nature and
treatment of wounds of the intestines. The investigations
were commenced in the spring of 1841, and were contin-
ued, with various intermissions, for more than two years.
The object was, in the first place, to inquire into the pro-
cess employed in repairing such injuries ; and secondly,
and more particularly, to test the value of the more impor-
tant methods of treatment recommended by surgeons from
the time of Ransdohr, a practitioner of the early part of
the last century, down to our own. The experiments, up-
wards of seventy in number, were performed exclusively
upon dogs, as the most eligible animals that could be pro-
cured for the purpose. The results, originally published
in a series of papers in the Western Journal of Medicine
and Surgery, were finally embodied in an octavo volume of
two hundred and twenty pages, illustrated by wood-cuts
and colored engravings. The work was exhaustive, and
comprised an account of my own researches and a sketch of
the literature of the subject. It was favorably noticed in a
long review by the British and Foreign Medico-Chirurgical
Journal, edited by Dr. Forbes, and was quoted approvingly
by Mr. Guthrie in his work on Military Surgery. I have
never seen any allusion to it in any of our own journals,
or by any of our own writers.

The labor spent upon these experiments was very great,
and the expense itself was not inconsiderable, as I was
obliged to pay for nearly all the dogs, and to hire a man to
watch and feed them. My colleagues were kind enough

is so complete that it is doubtful whether it will ever be improved upon ; indeed,
the excellent articles of Bourdillat and Kuhn, subsequently published, the former
based on three hundred, and the latter on three hundred and seventy-four cases, only
confirm the conclusions previously arrived at by Gross." — Diseases of the Throat
and Nose, vol. i. p. 540. Philadelphia, 1880. It maybe added that Kiihn plagia-
rized much of the material of this work. — Editors.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 97

to give me the basement rooms in the college for the ac-
commodation of the poor creatures. The experiments, be-
sides, involved a great sacrifice of feeling on my part. I
am naturally fond of dogs, and my sympathies were
often wrought to the highest pitch, especially when I
happened to get hold of an unusually clever specimen.
Anaesthetics had not yet been discovered, and I was there-
fore obliged to inflict severe pain. The animal while
under torture would often look into my eye, as if to say,
"Is it possible you will torment me in this way? What
have I done to deserve all this? Have I done you any
harm ?" I have sacrificed for this purpose nearly one hun-
dred dogs, and if I were not thoroughly satisfied that the
objects had been most laudable, I should consider myself a
most cruel, heartless man, deser\'ing of the severest con-
demnation. The experiments of Jones on hemorrhage, of
Smith and Travers on wounds of the intestines, of IMagen-
die and Sir Charles Bell on the functions of the nerves,
and of hundreds of physicians upon the action of medi-
cines upon the human frame ha\'e shed an immense flood
of light upon the healing art, putting to flight the ill-
timed sentimentality of the societies for the prevention
of cruelty to animals, which have made so nmch ado
about this matter.

My dogs were no inconsiderable source of annoyance to
several of my colleagues. The rooms in which they were
lodged became infested with fleas, which, when the air
became heated in autumn by the stoves in the college,
skipped about in every direction. ]\Iy friend, the Pro-
fessor of Chemistr}', was especially molested by them,
being obliged to appear before his class with his boots over
his trousers, to prevent them from effecting an entrance
to his body. I do not know whether, like Sir Humphry
Davy, he ever boiled any to determine their affinity with
the lobster, but no doubt he often felt the effects of
their probosces. When the experiments were terminated
I— 13

98 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the worthy dean, a venerable gentleman in spectacles, for-
mally burnt the fleas at the stake — another evidence of the
unfeeling character of medical men !

During my residence at Ivouisville I was a liberal con-
tributor to the Western Journal of Medicine and Surgery,
conducted by Drake and Yandell, assisted, for a time, by
Dr. Thomas W. Colescott, one of my former private pupils.
Among my earliest papers was an account of a case of axil-
lary aneurism, for which I had tied the subclavian artery.
It was accompanied by a statistical notice of all that had
been done in regard to the surgery of this vessel up to that
period. My case was almost unique, only one similar case
having occurred previously. Another elaborate paper was
published in 1852 on the diseases and operations on the
jaws. I also wrote occasional reviews, chiefly of an ana-
lytical character, sometimes critical and even caustic. As
already stated, my experiments on wounds of the intes-
tines were published in this journal ; and one of the latest
of my contributions to its pages was A Discourse upon the
Life and Character of the late Dr. Drake, embracing
nearly one hundred pages.

In 1 85 1 I prepared a report on Kentucky Surgery
for the Kentucky State Medical Society, afterwards pub-
lished in its Transactions, the meeting having been held
at Louisville. It embraced nearly two hundred pages,
and cost me a great deal of labor, augmented by the
large correspondence which it involved with the physi-
cians of different parts of the State, and even out of the
State. It was a complete history of Kentucky surgery. It
contained a full biography of Ephraim McDowell, of Dan-
ville, with a vindication of his claims as the originator
of Ovariotomy — claims now universally acknowledged.
McDowell performed his first operation in 1809. In this
report is also contained a brief account of a girl, named
Amanda McGuire, of Mississippi, who was born blind,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 99

and whom, at the age of eighteen, I restored to sight by
an operation for cataract.

In 1852 I sent to the Philadelphia Medical Examiner,
edited by Dr. Francis Gumey Smith and Dr. John B.
Biddle, a short account of the use of adhesive plaster in
the treatment of fractures, in which I proved that I had
been the first to describe the method in my work on the
Diseases of the Bones and Joints issued at Philadelphia in
1830. The method had been claimed by a number of
physicians, none of whom were entitled to it. It was
first practised by Dr. Joseph K. Swift, of Easton, my early
preceptor, in a case of compound fracture of the leg in an
Irishman, whom I saw several times during his protracted
confinement. I was so much pleased with the plan that
I briefly described it in my work. Swift himself never
published any account of it.

In 1853 I sent to the American IMedical Association, at
its meeting in Richmond, Virginia, a comprehensive re-
port on the Results of Surgical Operations in Malignant
Diseases. It comprised one hundred and thirty-seven pages
of its volume of Transactions, and embodied the experi-
ence of the principal surgeons of all ages and countries.
It was a painstaking production. The report attracted
wide attention among medical men.

In 1856, at the meeting of the American Medical Asso-
ciation at Detroit, I read a report on the Causes which
Retard the Progress of American Medical Literature, cov-
ering upwards of twenty pages of the Transactions. This
report elicited a good deal of discussion at the time, and
was aftersvards variously criticised by the medical press of
the countr}'. It took strong grounds against the editing
of foreign works by American writers, and animadverted
in severe terms upon our medical journals for their indis-
criminate praise of European reprints. These two circum-
stances, especially the latter, made the paper unpopular.
Its effects, however, were excellent. Since then few

loo AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

English works have been reprinted in the United States
under the auspices of American editors ; and the American
periodical press has indulged much less than formerly in
toadyism, at one time such a prominent feature in its
conduct.

In the winter of 1856, Dr. T. G. Richardson and I
founded the Louisville Medical Review, a bi-monthly
journal of medicine and surgery, the first number of
which was issued on the ist of May following. I had
no fancy for this kind of work, as I was too busily engaged
in practice to attend to its drudgery ; and it was not until
after repeated solicitations and interviews with Dr. Rich-
ardson, who had been a favorite pupil of mine, and not
until after I had been assured that I should be relieved
of all such labor, that I finally consented to have my
name placed on the title-page as senior editor. The first
number appeared with a very respectable list of Western
and Southwestern collaborators, and with a fair prospect
of success, inasmuch as the Western Journal of Medicine
and Surgery had for some time been discontinued, on ac-
count of the decline of its subscription list. It opened
with an excellent review by Professor Yandell of Mans-
field's Life of Dr. Drake, accompanied by an admirable
engraving of that physician. The second article was from
my own pen, entitled August Gottlieb Richter : his Works
and his Cotemporaries — a retrospective review, in which
I introduced an account of Desault, Benjamin Bell and An-
tonio Scarpa, all great men in their day, whose lives and
services marked an important epoch in the professional
history of their respective countries. The article caused
me much labor and research, although it occupies only
thirty-five pages of the journal. I believe it to be one
of the best things I have ever written, if "best" be at all
applicable to anything I have done in this way.

The July number contained the report of a case — one of
the most remarkable on record — of hypertrophy of the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. loi

gums, in a lad ten years of age, whom I relieved by a
surgical operation, and whose history was widely dissemi-
nated by the medical press, as well as embodied in the
current works on surgery and on dental science.

Only six numbers of the Louisville Medical Review
were published ; for, by a strange coincidence, soon after
the appearance of the first number, both editors received
and accepted appointments in Philadelphia : Dr. Richard-
son the chair of Anatomy in the Pennsylvania College, and
I that of Surgery in my Alma Mater as the successor of the
late Dr. Thomas D. Mutter.

During my residence in Kentucky I contributed several
papers to the American Journal of the Medical Sciences,
edited by Dr. Isaac Hays. One of these was the report
of a case, full of interest, of gunshot wound of the neck,
involving the spinal cord and subclavian arter}', and caus-
ing death by convulsions.

During the first winter of my connection with the Uni-
versity of Louisville I boarded with my family at the
Louisville Hotel, uncertain whether I should continue in
the school or return at the close of the session to Cincin-
nati. After that question was finally disposed of I took a
house, and in the month of April removed to my new field
of labor, opening at once an office and becoming a candi-
date for business. The proceeds during the first year of
my practice fell somewhat short of two thousand dollars ;
but as my family was small and inexpensive, this sum, to-
gether with my college proceeds, was more than sufficient
for my immediate wants. My practice rapidly increased ;
patients with all kinds of diseases flocked to me from dif-
ferent parts of the valley of the Mississippi ; I was often sent
for to go a considerable distance from home ; I performed
numerous siirgical operations, and did a large consultation
business. I had also at this time constantly about me pri-
vate pupils ; and Dr. Cobb and I delivered regularly, for a
number of years, spring courses of lectures on surgical

I02 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

anatomy and operative surgery. My income thus became
quite large, and, as a consequence, I determined to build for
myself a large and commodious dwelling in a pleasant part
of the city. My house was a double one, fifty feet front, with
two offices, a fine garden, and a small conservatory, which
furnished my family with flowers from one year's end to
the other. The garden was a source of constant happiness
to me. Although I employed a gardener, I spent much
of my leisure — not much at any time — in embellishing it,
often transplanting flowers and weeding the beds with my
own hands. It was delightful to watch the flowers, to
individualize, and even, so to speak, to pet them. These
were indeed happy, thrice happy, moments, full of inno-
cence and bliss, thoroughly shared by my dear wife and
most of my children, who were equally fond of flowers.
One of the greatest sources of our distress on leaving Ken-
tucky was that we could not carry with us our garden and
conservatory. The summer before we left a Lamarcque
rose had literally spread over the entire conservatory, and
had borne upwards of twelve hundred blossoms. The
house was elegantly furnished, and was one of the most
beautiful residences in Louisville. My office door opened
upon nearly an entire square of shrubbery and trees on the
opposite side of the street, so that I lived, as it were,
in a forest, redolent in summer of the fragrance of
flowers and musical with the song of birds. Was this a
foretaste of Paradise, or was it only an illusion? When
I left Louisville, in 1856, I parted with this property for
four thousand dollars less than it had cost me. Our house
was for many years the abode of an enlarged and generous
hospitality. Distinguished strangers, professional and non-
professional, were welcome guests at our table.

I remained at Louisville for sixteen years — from Octo-
ber, 1840, to September, 1856 — and became thus closely
identified with the people and the interests and prosperity
of the city, as well as the pride and glory of the State of

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 103

Kentucky. I had, with my seven years' residence at Cin-
cinnati, become, in fact, a Southwestern man, in feeling
and in habit.

General regret was expressed, both by the medical profes-
sion and the citizens of Louisville, when it was understood
that I had determined to remove to Philadelphia, and this
feeling finally culminated in a ball, given to my family and
myself at the Gait House, the evening before our departure.
I received numerous letters from medical men in various
parts of the Southwest remonstrating against my removal,
on the ground that, as I had earned my reputation in
the Southwest, that section had a claim on me which
no light considerations should ignore. I had, however,
made up my mind to go, and no argument could have
induced me to remain. The university was in a declining
condition ; it had lost some of its very best and most dis-
tinguished men ; some of the men that remained were
weak and vacillating in their conduct ; and the men that
were elected to the vacant chairs were distasteful to me.
In short, I saw nothing but vexation and annoyance
in the future ; and when the position of Professor of
Surgery in my Alma Mater was unanimously tendered
to me, both by the Board of Trustees and Faculty, I did
not feel at liberty to decline it, although it was a sore
trial both to me and to my family to break up our pleasant
relations and attachments in Kentucky. The sad events
that followed during the war, arraying families against
families and friends against friends, dividing the medical
profession, and introducing the spirit of discord into all
ranks and conditions of society, proved that I had made
a wise decision. The sixteen years which I passed in
Kentucky were, in the main, among the happiest of my
life, notwithstanding the hostility which I had to en-
counter at the beginning — an opposition alike unjust and,
for a time, extremely annoying to me and to my family.

It may not be out of place at this point to make a brief

I04

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

record of my impressions of some of the distinguished men
whom I met during my residence in Kentucky. Notices
of others will be found in my diary and elsewhere.

In February, 1838, occurred one of the most famous
duels of modern times, and one which gave rise to the
most intense excitement throughout the country on ac-
count of its political character. The circumstances were
the more surprising, because it was clearly shown, even
after the exchange of shots by the combatants, that
no difficulty or personal animosity had ever existed be-
tween the parties — William J. Graves and Jonathan Cilley,
both members of Congress, the one from Kentucky, and
the other from Maine. The immediate cause of the duel
was a letter addressed by J. Watson Webb, editor of the
New York Courier and Inquirer, at that time one of the
most prominent and influential papers in the United States,
to Mr. Cilley, on account of words uttered during debate,
reflecting upon the character of Mr. Webb in reference to
matters relating to the United States Bank. This letter,
the delivery of which was intrusted to Mr. Graves, Mr.
Cilley declined to receive, on the ground that he did not
wish to be drawn into any controversy with a public jour-
nalist. Under these circumstances Mr. Graves considered
it his duty to challenge Mr. Cilley. The parties met at
three o'clock, on the 24th of February, near Washington
City, close to the boundary line of Maryland and the Dis-
trict of Columbia, accompanied by their seconds and their
surgeons, Henry A. Wise, of Virginia, and Dr. Foltz,
U. S. N., acting for Mr. Graves, and General George W.
Jones, of Wisconsin, and Dr. Duncan, of Ohio, for Mr.
Cilley. Upon the field were John J. Crittenden and
Mr. Menefee, of Kentucky, as the friends of Mr. Graves,
and Mr. Bynum, of North Carolina, and Captain James
W. Schaumburg, U. S. A., as the friends of Mr. Cilley.
The weapons were rifles. The distance was ninety-two
yards. The choice of position fell to the lot of Mr. Wise,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 105

while Mr. Jones had the giving of the word. Three
shots were exchanged, at the last of which Cilley fell
mortally wounded, and in a few minutes expired. It is
due to the parties concerned in this transaction, now all
deceased, to state that ineffectual efforts were made after
the first and second shots to arrest further firing. Mr.
Ciiley, after what he had pointedly said to Mr. Webb and
Mr. Graves in his early correspondence with these gen-
tlemen, could not recede from the stand taken by him.
As I have said, he declined to receive ]\Ir. Graves's
letter because of his desire to avoid any controversy with
Mr. Webb, and in making this statement he neither
affirmed nor denied anything respecting that gentleman's
character, nor intended to show any disrespect for Mr.
Graves. The attempts to adjust the duel during its
progress hinged solely upon these latter points, the second
of Mr. Graves insisting that the fight should proceed,
unless Mr. Cilley should enter a direct disclaimer of any
personal exceptions to Mr. Webb as a gentleman and a
man of honor, or an indirect one by placing the refusal to
receive the note of Mr. Graves upon the ground of privi-
lege. This Mr. Cilley had twice refused to do, and had
twice exposed himself to the fire of his antagonist. The
result of the third shot has already been stated.

The history of duelling does not show a sadder blot
upon its bloody escutcheon than this transaction. Here
were two men in the prime of life, of generous natures
and noble bearing, members of the national councils, be-
tween whom no unkindly feeling had ever at any time ex-
isted, fighting for a principle, to satisfy what has been
called the "code of honor" — a combat in which one is
mortally wounded.

When this duel took place I knew nothing personally

of Mr. Graves, but within a few years after, during my

residence in Louisville, I made his acquaintance, became

his family physician, was for a time a near neighbor of

I— 14

io6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

his, and attended him during his last terrible illness. It
affords me great pleasure to bear testimony to his private
character. A more devoted husband or a kinder father
never existed. He was a very handsome man : tall,
erect, with a clear brown eye and a manly countenance,
with an enthusiastic nature, and a chivalrous disposi-
tion ; a warm friend, and a true, patriotic citizen. Bred
to the law, he early abandoned the bar for politics, in
which he rendered most important service to the Whig
party, of which he was for a number of years one of the
acknowledged leaders in Kentucky. In the Presidential
canvass in 1844 he took a most active part, often driving
in his sulky from fifty to seventy miles in the twenty-
four hours to meet engagements in different sections
of his State. Such labor, combined with the excitement
incident to a great campaign, and with stump-speaking,
of which he was an admirable representative, ever ready,
full of enthusiasm, and full of his subject, could not fail to
tell fearfully upon a constitution already seriously under-
mined, and it is therefore not surprising that he event-
ually succumbed under its effects. His last illness was
protracted. I have, in the course of a long professional
life, witnessed much suffering, but never, in any indi-
vidual, such a frightful concentration of it. His disease
was epithelioma, or cancer, of the bladder, which com-
pelled him to keep his bed for three months, during which
he daily used large quantities of morphia and chloroform
to mitigate his torture. Indeed, during the last few weeks
of his life he was kept almost continually in a state of
partial insensibility from the effects of the latter medi-
cine. Notwithstanding his frightful sufferings, no groan or
murmur of complaint ever escaped his lips. He was ema-
ciated to a skeleton. His death was a great loss to his
family, his friends, and his party.

Within a few years after the death of Mr. Graves a state-
ment went the rounds of the public prints that during his

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 107

last illness he had labored, in addition to his other suffer-
ings, under remorse of conscience on account of his duel
with Cilley, The assertion, I need hardly say, was without
the shadow of truth. Living within two doors of him, I
saw him frequently three, four, five, and even six times in
the twenty-four hours, and never, on any occasion, either
when his mind was perfectly clear, or clouded from the
effects of suffering, or the stupefying influence of morphia
and chloroform, did he ever refer, directly or indirectly,
to the occurrence. He had long ago made up his mind
that the combat was one of necessity, and that he could
not, as the "code" was then interpreted, have avoided it
withoiit a sacrifice of honor, whicli, to a man of his gal-
lant nature, is always more precious than life itself I
took an early opportunity to contradict this statement,
believing it was my duty to do it as the physician and
personal friend of jVIr. Graves and his excellent family.

Among the many noteworthy families of Kentucky
during my residence in that State there was none more
remarkable than that which produced the three Breck-
inridges — Robert J., John, and William C, all men of
force of character, and eminent preachers, in charge of
refined and cultured congregations. Robert J., the eldest,
was long known as the fighting parson, from his bitter
controversies and aggressive disposition ; but he was un-
doubtedly the most able and talented of the three. All
were good speakers, all preached long sermons, and all
were strongly wedded to the Presbyterian faith, in which
their mother, a woman of uncommon intellect, had reared
them. Robert long held the supreme power in the Presby-
terian Church, not only in Kentucky, but in the great West,
and broke many a lance with the strong men of other de-
nominations. In his personal appearance he had few of
the prominent characteristics of the staid and dignified
clergyman. When I last saw him, in 1853, at the Agricul-
tural Fair at Lexington, he had on nankeen trousers, a

lo8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

white vest, and a spotted necktie, and I was told that this
was his ordinary summer wear. It was certainly a very
sensible dress, but it was so unclerical as to attract gen-
eral attention, and became therefore a subject of unfavor-
able comment

Dr. John Breckinridge was directly the opposite of
Robert in disposition and habits. He was an amiable
man, with a deep sense of modesty, and it is questionable
whether he ever had an enemy. He enjoyed a high
reputation as a preacher, and the love and admiration of
all who knew him. He died comparatively young, the
victim of pulmonary phthisis, for which, during his latter
days, I attended him for a short time in consultation. His
first wife was a daughter of Dr. Miller, a distinguished
professor in the Theological Seminary at Princeton. An
anecdote has been related of Dr. Breckinridge which ad-
mirably illustrates his sly humor. A clergyman, named
Sparrow, one evening occupied his pulpit. When the
congregation was dismissed a lady inquired of the Doctor
who that preacher was. " That man's name is Sparrow,"
was the reply, ' ' one of those birds spoken of in the Bible,
of which two were sold for a farthing. ' '

Dr. William C. Breckinridge was for many years my
near neighbor. He was popular as a preacher, and was
greatly respected as a courteous and well-bred gentleman.
He was for a long time pastor of the Second Presbyterian
Church of Louisville, and a short time before the Rebel-
lion was called to the presidency of the University of Mis-
sissippi, from which, on the eve of the war, he removed,
if I mistake not, to Missouri, where he soon afterwards
died.

I cannot close my brief sketch of this family without
saying a few words about the mother, from whom the
sons evidently, in great degree, if not entirely, inher-
ited their characteristic mental features. Mrs. Breckin-
ridge was a woman of extraordinary powers of mind,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 109

with the determination, courage, and energy- of a Coesar.
In 1 84 1, while in attendance upon her son, Dr. John
Breckinridge, I saw her for the first time. She had come
all the Avay from Lexington, her old home, in a dilapi-
dated family carriage, drawn by two horses, after a
fatiguing journey of nearly four days. She was then far
advanced in life, very fragile looking, and nearly blind in
both eyes from cataract. She told me she was naturally
ver}' timid, and had never, in consequence, been able to
trust herself upon a steamboat or railway car ; and yet
this little woman could be as brave as a lioness. Her
husband had been the owner of many slaves, and being
from home on a certain occasion, several of them deter-
mined to kill their mistress, rob the house, and flee the
country. There was no white man at the time on the
premises, and but for the fidelity of a young negro girl,
who had become aware of the plot, the scheme would
undoubtedly have been carried into effect. The moment
Mrs. Breckinridge heard of it she confronted the ring-
leader, and told him if he did not behave himself and go
about his business she would instantly shoot him. Her
determined look and her readiness to defend herself at
once arrested the diabolical plot, which, if she had been
less courageous, would undoubtedly have cost her her life.
With the history of General John C. Breckinridge, a
cousin of the three divines, ever}'body is familiar. Tall
and well formed in person, and elegant in manner, I shall
never forget the grace and dignity with which, as Vice-
President during Mr. Buchanan's administration, he pre-
sided over the Senate. Mr. Breckinridge died in May,
1875, after a long and severe illness, caused by an abscess
of the liver, which in time discharged its contents wholly
through the lungs. When I saw him, at the request of
some of his friends, eight or ten days before his death,
with the family physician, Dr. J. R. Desha, Dr. Sayre, of
New York, and Dr. Luke P. Blackburn, recently Governor

no AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of Kentucky, he was excessively emaciated, and laboring
under terrible parox}'sms of dyspnoea, momentarily threat-
ening life, and painful to witness. The quantity of matter
expectorated in the twenty-four hours varied, on an aver-
age, from a pint to a pint and a half, and its expulsion was
attended with great fatigue and copious perspiration. It
was agreed, in consultation, as a last resort, to make an
outlet, if possible, for this fluid, so that it might drain off
as fast as it formed, and for this purpose a trocar, in the
absence of an aspirator, v/as pushed through the ninth in-
tercostal space to the full length of the instrument without
reaching the cavity of the abscess. As the operation was
followed by considerable exhaustion, it was deemed best
not to repeat it, and matters consequently remained m
statu quo. Our conduct was harshly criticised by some
of the public journals, but to their strictures I made no
reply, conscious that we had done our duty. General
Breckinridge succumbed a few days afterwards, completely
worn out by his protracted suffering. It is to be regretted
that owing to the wife's unconquerable objections a post-
mortem examination was not permitted.

In 1849, broken down by overwork and malarial disease,
I visited the Harrodsburg Springs on the Kentucky River,
then a fashionable resort for invalids, kept by Dr. Graham,
and now used as a government asylum for disabled soldiers.
While here I saw a great deal of INIr. Poindexter, of Mis-
sissippi, an ex-Governor of the State and a United States
ex-Senator, an astute lawyer, and a shrewd politician,
familiar with all the tricks and devices of party, with an
insatiable ambition for the spoils of office, a behemoth
that did not hesitate to devour every beast that in any wise
obstructed his path. He was much broken in health and
spirits by a disease, for which he had been treated at a
high fee by a Louisville charlatan. I refer to the case
in this manner, because it was at that time known to
every man and woman in the valley of the Mississippi.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. m

For a while it was difficult to say which was the more
famous, the patient or the physician.

Poindexter was a man of great ability, distinguished
for his rhetorical powers, his sarcasm in debate, and the
bitterness of his language. He was very aggressive — a
man of whom everybody was afraid. Such a man has
few friends, and when he can no longer be of use he is
dropped by every one. This was the case with the ex-
Governor of INIississippi at the time here referred to. He
had outlived his usefulness ; his party had no longer any
need of his services ; and his political friends had gradu-
ally, one after another, abandoned him. He keenly felt
the peculiarity of his position. He was morose, irritable,
even irascible. Every one pitied him, and still more his
wife, a lovely woman, many years his junior. In his
happier moods, when comparatively exempt from suffer-
ing, he was a most agreeable companion, with ready wit,
an abundant amount of anecdote, and remarkable conver-
sational powers. He had seen much of the world and of
the good as well as the evil side of nature. Circum-
stances, the outgrowth of great talent, and of much per-
sonal magnetism in his 5'ounger and palmier days, had
brought him in contact with the great men and women
of the nation, and made him a tower of strength with the
Democratic party. He was now old, and the recollections
of his former triumphs served but as a poor compensation
for his present forlorn and pitiable situation. He ably and
successfully defended General Jackson in Congress, but
they afterwards became bitter enemies, and this circum-
stance, added to a duel, in which he killed his adversar>%
served to estrange him still further from the world. His
chief solace, while at Harrodsburg, was "Boaston" and
scolding. After I left the Springs I saw Poindexter no
more. He died at an advanced age in 1853.

In this year I was visited by a gentleman who had long
occupied a distinguished position in the world of letters

112 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and of politics. I refer to Baron Friedricli Ludwig Georg
Von Raumer, of Berlin, the celebrated historian, politi-
cian, and statesman. He brought me a letter of introduc-
tion from a friend in Philadelphia. It was the Baron's
second visit to this country, the first having been made
in 1843, on which he soon after published a book —
America and the American People — v/hich was translated
by Mr. Turner. The object of his present visit was to
make himself more intimately acquainted with the nature
of our institutions and the character of our people, and
he brought with him his son, a quiet, reticent young man,
in order not only that he might afford him the benefit of
his experience in his travels, but have a constant com-
panion and watchful friend in case of disease or accident.
The Baron called upon me early in the day, and learning
that his stay in Louisville was limited I invited some
friends to meet him in the evening. As the hours ad-
vanced my wife said to him: "Baron, you must be a
relation of my father's family ; my father was a German,
and I often heard him and my mother talk of the Von
Raumers ; at school I was always called the ' Baroness, '
as all my schoolmates were familiar with my father's his-
tory, and thus, to tease me, gave me this nickname, I
was then very young, and as my father died at an early
age at sea on his way to Europe, and my mother soon
after followed him to the grave, I have never been able to
trace the connection to a satisfactory conclusion. Your
visit is a curious coincidence, and perhaps you can give
me some particulars." The Baron was evidently discon-
certed ; he blushed, became embarrassed, and soon changed
the subject. He called the next morning to take leave of
us, but did not once refer to the previous evening's con-
versation. In 1868, during our visit to Berlin, we drove
to the son's house, but he was spending the summer at
his country residence. Thus ended our acquaintance.
What gave point to the Baron's embarrassment at my

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 113

house was the fact that my wife's father was a collateral
heir of the Von Raumer estate, and was on his way to
look after his interests when he was accidentally lost at sea.
To institute formal research after intricate titles would have
been a useless procedure after the lapse of so many years.

Von Raumer was a profoundly educated man, of rare
ability, industr}'-, and perseverance. He w^as a copious
writer, chiefly of historical and political works, and was
for many years Professor in the University of Berlin ; he
was also a member of the German Parliament, and was
at one time ambassador at Paris. In 1853 ^^ retired from
active life, and devoted the evening of his days to study,
travel, and recreation. He was a m^an of small stature, an
excellent linguist, and an agreeable conversationalist.

It was in the spring of 1853 that Mr. James P. Espy,
widely known as the "Storm King," presented to me a
letter of introduction from a gentleman who was then
a colleague of mine — Dr. Drake, of Cincinnati. He was
at the time a resident of Columbus, Ohio, and had
come to Louisville on matters of business, but chiefly
with a view of making some meteorological observa-
tions, a subject which had long deeply occupied his atten-
tion. I, of course, extended to him a wanii welcome,
and he did me the honor the following morning to break-
fast with me. His conversation was animated, and was
directed largely to the explanation of his famous theory
of storms, which, while it had many adherents, had also
some very powerful opponents. Being a man of positive
temperament, he did not express himself in the mildest
terms in regard to those who differed from him in opinion.
He had made several appeals to Congress for pecuniary
aid to carry his theories into effect, but without success,
and this disappointment was a great, if not a constant,
source of annoyance to him, serving to imbitter the even-
ing of his life. He made himself so agreeable to Mrs.
Gross and myself on the occasion here referred to that we
I— 15

114

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

were hardly aware when we rose from the table that two
hours had passed since we had taken our seats, and when
our distinguished guest rose to take his leave we both felt
as if we were parting with an old acquaintance. Mr.
Espy was a remarkably handsome man, tall, erect, well-
proportioned, with a large head and a fine face, expressive
of intelligence, and he had about him all the magnetism
and characteristics of a well-bred gentleman. Bom in
1785, in Western Pennsylvania, he was descended from
a Huguenot family, with some of the sturdy blood of
the Scotch Covenanters, and, like most men of genius,
rose by dint of his own exertions from obscurity into fame.
Owing to his father's poverty his early education was
neglected, but this defect was gradually overcome by in-
dustry and perseverance ; and, while still quite young, he
became the principal of a classical academy at Cumber-
land, Llaryland, showing that he had made good progress
in learning.

Mr. Espy was an enthusiast. Whatever had possession
of his mJnd was not easily dislodged by outside considera-
tions. He was a firm believer in the idea that rain could
be induced by keeping up large fires, scattered over large
surfaces, and he even thought it possible by this means to
maintain the navigation of the upper Ohio River during
the dry season. Although Congress refused to give him
money to carry out his wishes, he received, through the
agency of the late Alexander H. Stephens, of Georgia, a
warm personal friend, a government appointment as mete-
orological observer, an office from which emanated the first
telegraphic weather reports ever made. Hence Espy may
justly be regarded as the father of the system now in such
successful operation in all parts of the civilized world.
His death occurred at Cincinnati, in January, i860, at the
age of seventy-five years. Besides his work on storms,
Mr. Espy published a treatise on the Will, a metaphys-
ical study, and numerous essays on various subjects.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 115

My recollections of Mr. John J. Crittenden are very
vivid ; as one of our leading statesmen I had, of course,
heard and read much of him before I ever saw him, and
when, after my removal to Kentucky in 1840, I met with
him for the first time, he captivated me by his pleas-
ant, genial, and frank manner. During my residence in
Louisville I saw him frequently, either at the house of his
son-in-law, Chapman Coleman, an eminent Louisville
merchant, at my house, or at the houses of other gentle-
men, and when or wherever I found him he was always
the centre of attraction. He was generally beloved and ad-
mired, not so much because he was a great man as because
of his many amiable qualities, his fine conversational
powers, his sly humor, and his large fund of anecdotes.
He had been so long in public life, and had been brought
in contact with so many distinguished people, that he
was a sort of encyclopedia of all public and interna-
tional measures for half a century during one of the most
stirring and interesting periods of our history*. Bom in
1786, in Woodford County, Kentucky, he was, like many
of our great men, the son of a farmer, with no early educa-
tional advantages. At that time Kentucky was a new
State, an offspring of Virginia ; society was in a crude
condition, with little of the culture and refinement which
have since characterized it, and, as Mr. Crittenden himself
told me one day in my parlor, he was fifteen years old
before he ever put a hat on his head. A man of force of
character can accomplish much by his own efforts, if he
feels so inclined, and Mr. Crittenden was more indebted
to himself for his education than to any aid derived from
the schoolmaster. Kentucky at that period had no aca-
demies or colleges of any note. Dr. Marshall, a distin-
guished physician, brother of Chief Justice Marshall, and
father of the celebrated Tom Marshall, was a famous
teacher in that day, giving instruction in the classics,
in mathematics, and in other branches of knowledge,

ii6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

to fit young men for college and the study of the various
professions ; but I am not aware that Mr. Crittenden
availed himself of these advantages. However this may
be, he studied law at an early age, was admitted to the
bar, and soon achieved a high reputation as an astute and
accomplished jurist. His popularity also rapidly increased,
and the consequence was that he was soon called into
public life ; a life to which he always aspired as a youth,
and which he afterwards followed with such distinguished
success. From the State Legislature, Mr. Crittenden
passed into Congress, thence to the Senate, and thence
into General Taylor's cabinet as Attorney-General of the
United States. When Mr. Fillmore succeeded to the Pres-
idency, Mr. Crittenden was retained in office. In 1848 he
was elected Governor of Kentucky. During his connec-
tion with the Senate Mr. Crittenden was the associate of
Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Hayne, Benton, and other prom-
inent men, who added lustre to their age and country.
While a member of this body he became involved in the
Graves and Cilley duel, which has been already mentioned
in a former page, and he was unjustly blamed in conse-
quence. The Kentucky Senator used all his influence
to prevent a hostile meeting. Public sentiment was
afterwards much mollified in regard to Mr. Crittenden's
association with this miserable affair; and the same
is true of his connection long afterward with the Matt
Ward trial, detailed in another page. Here again the cir-
cumstances were such as absolutely to force Mr. Crittenden
into the arena. As the lifelong and intimate friend of the
young man's parents it was impossible for him to refuse
to serve as one of his counsel. The public is not always
just, and it certainly in this case arrayed itself on the
wrong side.

Mr. Crittenden was an able orator, and some of his efforts
in the Senate and on the stump are fine specimens of
eloquence. His manner as a public speaker, however, was

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 117

slow, unimpassioned, and unmarked by those higher flashes
which characterized the orator>^ of Calhoun, Hayne, Tom
Marshall, and other Southern debaters. His address on
the Life and Character of Henr}' Clay, delivered at Louis-
ville in the presence of an overflowing audience, the
elite of both sexes, gathered from all parts of the countr}',
soon after that great man's death, was, if not a failure,
a feeble performance not at all in harmony with the occa-
sion, or his own well-known ability. The day was uncom-
monly hot, the building in which the meeting was held
was not well adapted to the object, and Mr. Crittenden's
delivery' was without its usual force and animation. j\Iany
of his hearers went away disappointed ; and the report of
the speech in the papers was not at all calculated to
answer the expectation of the public, or of the orator's
many friends. This was, if I mistake not, Mr. Critten-
den's last public efibrt.

Mr. Crittenden was thrice married, each time to a beau-
tiful woman. His last wife was the widow of General
Ashley, of Missouri, who was celebrated as a great belle,
with wonderful powers of fascination, but without any spe-
cial accomplishments. She survived Mr. Crittenden only
a few years. His sons — George and Thomas — were well-
known officers during the war of the Rebellion, the former
on the Confederate, the latter on the Union side. A life
of Mr. Crittenden, in two volumes, was published some
years after his death by his daughter, Mrs. Chapman
Coleman, a woman of remarkable intellect, with many of
the traits of her father and much of his force of character.

Mr. Crittenden was an excellent talker, with a large
store of interesting and instructive information. He was
fond of society, and was never so happy as when he was
surrounded by his family and intimate friends, engaged
in telling anecdotes, and in discussing public affairs, in
which he always took a lively interest. His habits were
sedentary. He was nearly six feet in height, with a

Ii8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

handsome face, a good head, and expressive hazel eyes.
He was fond of quoting passages from the Bible and the
Pilgrim's Progress, the latter of which, as he repeatedly
told me, he considered one of the most remarkable books
ever written, and such, unquestionably, is the fact. Mr.
Crittenden died in July, 1863.

Mr. Fillmore's term of office expired on the 4th of March,
1853, ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ following month he accompanied Mr.
Crittenden to Louisville, where they were the guests for a
short time of Mr. Chapman Coleman, Mr. Crittenden's
son-in-law. At a reception given in the evening of the
second day after their arrival, at which all the prominent
citizens of Louisville were present, the two distinguished
gentlemen were the cynosure of all eyes. Mr. Fillmore,
until then a stranger in Kentucky, attracted special atten-
tion. Tall, well proportioned, with a fine countenance,
a large, well-formed head, animated by beautiful blue eyes,
and the whole set off by the blandest smile and the most
courtly and winsome manners, it is not surprising that
he won all hearts and elicited the warmest admiration.
When, in 1855, he was presented to Queen Victoria, her
majesty declared that he was the handsomest and most
elegant American gentleman she had ever seen. In his
youth he worked on his father's farm, and at the age of
fifteen was apprenticed to a wool-carder and cloth-dresser.
With a very limited school-education, he began the study
of the law at nineteen, was in due time admitted to the
bar, and rapidly rose to distinction as a politician and
statesman, from one important position to another, until,
on the death of General Taylor, he succeeded to the high-
est office attainable on this continent. He passed through
all the grades of office with a spotless private character.

I have many agreeable recollections of Mr. James Guth-
rie, one of Louisville's noblest citizens during my resi-
dence in that city, and one who took as much interest
in its rise and prosperity as any man in it. Born in Ken-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D, 119

tiicky in 1792, he was educated at the Bardstown Acad-
emy, a celebrated Catholic seminar}', and was early admit-
ted to the Louisville bar, of which he soon became a dis-
tinguished member. He represented the city repeatedly
in the State Legislature, and served it in various rela-
tions in developing its resources. The noble municipal
buildings, erected at a great cost, owe their existence
mainly to his influence and enterprise. He took a special
interest in the establishment of the University of Louis-
ville, of the medical department of which he was for many
years President of the Board of Trustees, having succeeded
Judge Rowan in that office. My connection with that in-
stitution brought me into frequent relation with ]Mr. Guth-
rie, and I always found him ready to listen attentively to
any suggestions I had to offer in regard to the management
of that school, at one time by far the most celebrated of its
kind in the Southwest. When General Pierce, in 1853,
was elevated to the Presidency, Mr. Guthrie was tendered
the portfolio of the Treasury, and a better choice could
not have been made. The Secretary remained in office
until the expiration of Pierce's administration, when he
returned to his old home, and spent most of his time in
retirem.ent and in attention to his private affairs, which
had suffered more or less during his absence. In 1865
he was elected United States Senator, an office which
he would have adorned by his learning, by his large
experience as a legislator, and by his dignified and
gentlemanly bearing, but which ill health, contracted
during his residence at Washington, compelled him to
resign before he entered upon the discharge of its du-
ties. Death overtook him in 1869, at the age of seventy-
six years.

Guthrie was a man of fine proportions, upwards of six
feet in height, with a handsome face and a noble fore-
head. He was slow in his movements, slow of speech,
deliberate in all his acts. His character was massive

I20 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

rather than brilliant, and he took hold of whatever he
had to do with a giant's grip. I had great respect for him
as a gentleman and as an upright citizen. The last time I
ever met with him socially was the evening before he went
to Washington, which he spent in my study stretched out
at full length upon the sofa.

Among the more notable persons at my old home was
Judge John Rowan, for seven years my opposite neighbor,
remarkable for his intelligence, dignity of character, and
urbane and gentle manners. He was a gentleman of the
old school. Familiarly he was known as the ' ' Old Mon-
arch." Even Mrs. Rowan, an amiable woman, loved so
to call him. The judge had seen much of public life,
had served with distinction on the bench, and had been
a member of the United States Senate in the days of
its greatest renown. His house in his later years was the
resort of men of distinction irrespective of party, creed,
or occupation. Among others he was visited by his old
friend, Martin Van Buren, soon after that gentleman re-
tired from the Presidential office. For nearly one entire
week the " Monarch" and the "Sage of Kinderhook" were
hobnobbing together, talking much over olden times,
as well as over the present and future, and receiving
calls from the more distinguished citizens of the place.
No public or private receptions were tendered Mr. Van
Buren, and I do not now recollect that he accepted any in-
vitations to dinner. His visit was strictly private. He
was a well-preserv^ed, handsome-looking man, with all the
airs and graces of the well-bred gentleman. The character
of Martin Van Buren for political intrigue is well known.
He was a great pet of General Jackson, and lost his election
for a second Presidential term on account of his short-
sighted opposition to the admission of Texas as a State
into the Union. For once the "Sage of Kinderhook" had
lost his head. His defeat was the end of his political ca-
reer. One can appreciate after such a blunder the pithy

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. I2i

remark of "Prince John" — "Why, father, the most dis-
tinguishing feature of your administration is that you are
my father. ' '

By a curious combination of circumstances it happened
that I saw very little of Henry Clay during my residence
in Kentucky ; he rarely visited Louisville, and when he
did, he seldom remained more than a day, often not so
long. His oldest son, Henry, was for many years a mem-
ber of the Louisville bar, and I purchased from him a part
of the lot on which I built my house on Walnut Street
He was not endowed with intellect of a high order, and
was killed at the head of his column in one of the battles
of Mexico. His bravery was undoubted. His illus-
trious father I visited in September, 1852, during the
meeting of the Agricultural Fair at Lexington. Accom-
panied by my elder son and several friends, I drove to
Ashland, and had the good fortune to find Mr. Clay at
home. Ushered into the parlor, it was only a few minutes
before he made his appearance. He received us very cor-
dially, and we soon found ourselves engaged in an animated
conversation, the chief topic of which was the state of the
country, which was then already foreshadowing the inter-
necine war of 1861. Before we finished our visit, which
lasted about half an hour, we had discussed the Roman re-
public and the natural tendency of states and empires to
fall into decay after a longer or shorter existence, from the
lawlessness and misgovernment of the people. Mr. Clay
was not well, but he talked with great freedom and
vivacity, like a man who was fully impressed with the
truth of what he was saying. The day before this inter-
view we saw him at the reception-room of the Agri-
cultural Fair, with his daughter-in-law, Mrs. James Clay,
leaning on his arm. He was about to enter, when the
superintendent, decorated with his badge of office, for some
reason refused him admission. An act so rude as this, an
insult offered to so aged and distinguished a citizen, gave
I— 16

122 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

rise to not a few imprecations among the bystanders. It
was simply an outrage.

I saw Mr. Clay for the last time a year or two after this
at Louisville, during the trial of the heirs of Miss Polly
Bullitt, a maiden lady, whose will, involving a consider-
able estate, was disputed by Mr. Guthrie's children. The
ground of the suit was the alleged mental incompetency
of the testatrix to make a will. The case was long in dis-
pute, and attracted more than usual attention. Eminent
counsel were employed on both sides. Mr. Clay appeared
for the defence. He spoke for several days. Many of the
most distinguished ladies were in attendance. I well
recollect Mr. Clay's appearance. He stood as erect as a
flag-pole, spoke with great deliberation and distinctness,
and held spellbound the attention of the judge, bar, and
jury, as well as the crowded court-room. His speech was
a plain performance, devoid of any of the flowers of rhet-
oric. There was no attempt at display. He was attired
on the occasion in a neat black suit, with a dress coat and
a white cravat. The case was decided, if I mistake not,
in favor of the validity of the will.

The admirers of Mr. Clay cannot but regret the motives
which induced him to spend his last days at Washington.
It was a pitiful ambition which prompted him to forsake
his family and his old friends to die at the capital of the
country in order that he might have the eclat of a public
funeral. Broken down in health and spirits when he left
his old home, unable to travel except by slow stages, he
knew perfectly well that his days were numbered, and that
he could never again see Kentucky. How much more dig-
nified would it have been if he had breathed out his once
precious life in the bosom of his family and in the arms of
the woman who for upwards of half a century had watched
over his interests, reared his children with a fond mother's
care, loved him with a true woman's love, and followed
him, wherever he was, with her prayers and her blessings !

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 123

I have ver}' pleasant recollections of many of the mem-
bers of the Louisville bar, which has always been distin-
guished for its talents, learning, and gentlemanly bearing.
I have already spoken of Mr. Guthrie. For Judge Pirtle,
who was for years one of its leaders and a most amiable
man, I had a warm regard ; and Judge Ballard, who died
suddenly and unexpectedly some years ago, was long my
warm personal friend. He had a well-stored legal mind,
and was one of the most conscientious men I have ever
known — a man in whom there was no guile, and who
was as incapable of bribery as Sir Thomas More or
the purest man that ever lived. Judge Bullock was an-
other man for whom I always had a warm personal regard.
He is still living, at an advanced age, to adorn the bar and
to witness the beneficent effects of his philanthropic labors.
An upright judge and an honest man, he enjoys the re-
spect, love, and admiration of his fellow-citizens, and the
good-will of all who know him. Since I left Louisville its
bar has been strengthened by the addition of numerous
men, many of them still quite young, who have added in-
fluence and respectability to its ranks. The Louisville
Law School has been a power in swelling the corps of edu-
cated lawyers in Kentucky and in the surrounding States,
Originally in the hands of Loughborough, Pirtle, and Bul-
lock, it is justly regarded as an institution of great value,
as it is certainly one of great respectability.

The clergy of Louisville in my day were a pleasant
set of men, not all of them noted, however, for their
talent or learning. The most able of them, in point of
erudition, was Bishop, afterwards Archbishop, Spalding,
elsewhere referred to, a genial, pleasant gentleman, who
rose to great eminence in the Catholic Church. Among
the Protestant denominations I recall with much affection
and respect the names of Jackson, Humphrey, Sehon, Craik,
Stewart, Robinson, and Bishop Smith, who still survives,
at a great age, to honor his Master, and to look back with

124 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

complacency on the remarkable growth of the Episcopal
Church in this country since he first put on the clerical
robe, upwards of sixty years ago. All these men were my
personal friends.

The society of Kentucky has always been noted for its
intelligence, culture, refinement, and hospitality. Many
of the most eminent men and women of the country
have either been natives or residents of the State. There
is no State in the Union which has produced so many
beautiful women or so many tall and handsome men.
Lexington was at one time called the "Athens of the
West" on account of its elegant and brilliant society.
Its bar, still respectable, was then generally acknow-
ledged to be one of the ablest and most intellectual in the
country. It could boast of a Wickliffe, a Woolley, a Bled-
soe, a Menefee, a Breckinridge, a Robertson, and other
great names. Holley was at the head of its university ;
and its medical department, with Caldwell, Dudley, and
Yandell in its Faculty, was at the height of its prosperity.

CHAPTER V.

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA — PROFESSOR OF SURGERY IN THE JEFFERSON MED-
ICAL COLLEGE — PORTION OF MY LIBRARY BURNED — INTRODUCTORY LECTURE
— SECESSION OF STUDENTS — WAR EXPERIENCE — MEDICO-CHIRURGICAL REVIEW
— FOUND PATHOLOGICAL SOCIETY — SYSTEM OF SURGERY — COMPENSATION —
NOTICES OF WORK — MANUAL OF MILITARY SURGERY — LIVF^ OF EMINENT
AMERICAN PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY —
PRESIDENT OF AMERICAN MEDICAL ASSOCIATION — DISCOURSE — ADDRESS ON

SYPHILIS AT DETROIT ADDRESS ON BLOODLETTING AT LOUISVILLE LECTURES

ON AMERICAN MEDICAL LITERATURE FROM 1 776 TO 1876 — CONTRIBUTIONS
TO MEDICAL AND SURGICAL LITERATURE — MEMBERSHIP IN MEDICAL SO-
CIETIES— FOUND PHILADELPHIA ACADEMY OF SURGERY AND AMERICAN SUR-
GICAL ASSOCIATION.

In 1855 I was solicited by a member of the Board of
Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania to allow my
name to be placed before that body in connection with the
chair of Surger}^, which had been recently vacated by the
resignation of Dr. William Gibson. I was assured in the
most positive manner by my friend, a gentleman of influ-
ence and great respectability, Dr. Rene La Roche, that
the entire medical Faculty, with one exception — Dr.
George B. Wood, who soon after retired from the school —
had pledged themselves to support me, and to use their
best endeavors to insure my election. Various reasons,
however, induced me to decline the offer ; foremost among
which was the fact that the income of the department was
not equal to that of the University of Louisville, and the
next was the circumstance that, if defeated, I should be
subjected to more or less mortification. When it became
known that I was inexorable, I wrote, at the request of
Dr. D. Hayes Agnew, a warm testimonial in favor of Dr.
Henr>' H. Smith, who was finally elected.

125

126 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

My election to the vacant chair in the Jefferson Medical
College was unanimous, as had been my recommendation
by the Faculty. One of the members, the late Dr. Robley
Dunglison, with whom I had for some time been person-
ally acquainted, had previously addressed me upon the sub-
ject, as had also Dr. La Roche, asking me whether, in the
event of my election, I would accept the chair. The elec-
tion came off sooner than I had expected, and I was therefore
taken somewhat by surprise. The truth is, I had a good
deal of hesitation about abandoning my residence at Louis-
ville, the more especially as my family were very averse to
going away ; and hence, before I finally accepted, I visited
Philadelphia, to ascertain more fully the precise state of
affairs in reference to the school. I soon found that it was
in an eminently flourishing condition, and I therefore un-
hesitatingly accepted the chair which had been so flatter-
ingly tendered to me. My election came off early in INIay.
I remained at Louisville until late in September, when,
having disposed of my house, lot, and furniture, I removed
with my family to my new home, not without many sighs,
although without the slightest misgivings in regard to the
future.

During the interval between my appointment and my
removal to Philadelphia I was so fortunate as to rent Dr.
Mutter's house and furniture, so that on our arrival we
were not obliged to go to a hotel, everything being in readi-
ness for our accommodation. In fact, even dinner was
awaiting us, and, to add to the gratification of the occasion,
Dr. Dunglison had kindly sent us a bottle of champagne.
I will here state that I paid Dr. Miitter two thousand dollars
annually for his house and the use of his furniture, and
that at the end of the second year I purchased the house
and lot for twenty-five thousand dollars cash. As the
building was in bad condition, I was obliged to spend
nearly two thousand dollars to put it in repair. The offices
especially showed marked dilapidation. Everything was

, SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 127

old and shabby ; the walls had to be repapered, the ceilings
cleaned, new bookcases erected, and new chandeliers hung.
Mutter's library, left in the offices during the time I occu-
pied the house as a rented one, was ver}" small, not exceed-
ing seven or eight hundred volumes, and of these many
were obsolete. ]\Iy own librar}^, when I left Kentucky,
consisted of nearly four thousand volumes, of which almost
half the number were left behind in boxes, deposited for
safe keeping in the University of Louisville. As I was
about to go before my class on the 24th of December,
during the first winter of my residence in Philadelphia,
the janitor handed me a telegram. It was from the janitor
of the University of Louisville, and ran thus: "The Uni-
versity was totally consumed by fire early this morning,
including all your books and minerals." I need not say
that this intelligence greatly shocked me, and that, as I
proceeded with my lecture, the whole scene repeatedly rose
up before me, rendering me nervous and uncomfortable. I
regretted the disaster so much the more because it involved
the loss of the finest and most extensive collection of books
on the genito-urinary organs which had ever been brought
together in this country. Many of the books were from the
librar}' of the late John C. Crosse, the eminent lithotomist,
of Norwich, England, and can never be replaced. Besides,
the books were not insured. As the situation of the Uni-
versity was completely isolated, such a step had not been
deemed necessary. The cause of the fire was a defect in
one of the flues, a cause which has occasioned the destruc-
tion of a vast deal of property throughout the world.

My Inaugural Address was delivered to a crowded am-
phitheatre of students, medical men, and citizens. It was
well received, and was afterwards published by the class.
The class that winter was very large, the income from
each chair exceeding five thousand dollars. The number
of students afterwards, until the opening of the war, fluc-
tuated between four hundred and seventy-five, as the min-

128 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

imum, and six hundred and thirty-one, as the maximum,
the latter being the largest class the college ever had.
Miitter, after his resignation, was occasionally heard to
indulge in sighs and exclamations about the future pros-
perity of the school, evidently imagining that his with-
drawal would seriously damage it. But no such result
followed ; and I believe it may be laid down as an axiom
that the withdrawal of any one man, however distinguished
or popular, never seriously injures any school. When
Professor Dunglison resigned it was reasonable to suppose
that there would be a falling off of students, as he was
widely known and highly appreciated as a teacher, and yet
the school did not apparently suffer in the slightest degree.
Boerhaave at Leyden, and Cullen at Edinburgh, were
the great luminaries among medical teachers in their day,
attracting pupils from all parts of the world ; but that
was long ago, when truly great and learned teachers
were scarce. Nowadays everybody teaches, and one-man
power has ceased to exert a predominant influence. It is
the combined strength of a Faculty that gives a school
preeminence and celebrity. Students at the present day
care more for their diploma than for the names attached
to it. A certificate to go forth upon their errand, that
they may, like Samson, slay the people with the jaw-bone
of an ass, is wdiat most of them mainly covet.

During the war, and for several years after it was ended,
there was, of course, a great decline in the number of stu-
dents in all the Northern schools, while nearly all the
Southern ones were suspended. Two-fifths of our stu-
dents had for years been supplied by the Southern States.
This supply was completely cut ofT, and the consequence
was that our classes were for some time under three
hundred. During the last few years, however, there has
been a steady increase ; and during the present session —
i869-'70— our catalogue exhibits four hundred and seventy-
five names, embracing representatives from every State

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 129

and Territory in the Union, as well as from Canada, Nova
Scotia, and various foreign countries. The prospect,
therefore, is that the institution will again flourish, and
will have again, as it had before the war, the largest
classes in the United States.

It is proper here to state that as soon as it became known
that there would be war nearly two hundred of our South-
ern students left us. This event, which was the first prac-
tical secession, occurred on the evening of the 23d of De-
cember, 1 86 1, shortly after the secession of South Carolina.
This conduct of the students caused great commotion in
our school, as well as in the University of Pennsylvania,
and in the city generally.

I was anxious that the Faculty should take some formal
notice of this agitation, and that the dean should be com-
missioned to discharge this function as a part of his official
duties. He, however, had great doubt of the propriety of
the measure, and when at length he addressed the class it
was evident that his remarks fell stillborn upon the ears
of that portion of it which they were especially designed
to influence and benefit. A strong appeal made at an early
day might, I have always been of the opinion, have been
of great service. The day before the exodus occurred I
devoted fifteen minutes to the consideration of the subject,
in which I strongly urged upon the disaffected students the
importance of remaining to the end of the session in close
attendance upon the lectures ; but, although my address
was well received, the most profound silence prevailing
during its delivery, it failed of its object. Only a few
of the Southern students had the good sense to complete
their course of studies.

While this hneute was in progress letters were received
from different Southern schools, as the Richmond, Au-
gusta, Charleston, and Atlanta, offering to receive the se-
ceders with open arms, and to give them their tickets,
at the same time promising to graduate such as might
1-17

I30 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

present themselves as candidates. Governor Henry A.
Wise made them a long speech of welcome on their ar-
rival at Richmond, in the college of which most of them
enlisted. I have often wondered what ultimately became
of these }'oung men, many of them the sons of wealthy and
highly respectable parents, well educated, refined, and am-
bitious of distinction. That many of them perished during
the war from accident and disease is unquestionable, and
it is altogether probable that most of those that escaped
with their lives were doomed to a worse fate — total demor-
alization and utter worthlessness !

I have now been in the Jefferson Medical College nearly
fourteen years, and of the men who were my colleagues
when I entered it only one survives. John K. Mitchell,
crippled for several years by apoplexy, was the first to fall
by the wayside, his death having been occasioned by an
attack of pneumonia in the spring of 1858. A necrological
notice of him from my pen is contained in the North
American Medico-Chirurgical Review for May, 1858. Dr.
Robert IM. Huston, who resigned in 1857, on account of
ill health, and who was succeeded in the chair of Materia
Medica and Therapeutics by Dr. Thomas D. Mitchell, fol-
lowed next in order ; then came Professor Franklin Bache,
in April, 1864 ; Dr. Robley Dunglison in April, 1869 ; and
Dr. Charles D. ]\Ieigs in Jime following. Pancoast is thus
the only survivor, all these sad changes having occurred
within less than thirteen years. It should be added that
Dr. Thomas D. INIitchell died in 1865, and was succeeded
by Dr. John B. Biddle. Dr. Bache' s successor was Dr. B.
Howard Rand, and Dr. Dunglison' s, Dr. J. Aitken Meigs.
Dr. Miitter, my predecessor in the chair of Surgery, died
at Charleston, South Carolina, in April, 1859. In 1873
Dr. Joseph Pancoast vacated the chair of Anatomy, which
he had filled with distinguished ability since 1841, and
was succeeded by his son. Dr. William H. Pancoast, he him-
self being appointed Emeritus Professor. In April, 1877,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 131

Professor Rand resigned his chair on account of ill health,
and was succeeded by Dr. Robert E. Rogers, for twenty-
five years Professor of Chemistry in the University of
Pennsylvania. The title of the chair was changed at my
suggestion to ex-Judge James Campbell and Mr. Henry M.
Phillips, two prominent members of the Board of Trustees,
to Medical Chemistry and Toxicology. The college had
groaned long enough under the teachings of high school
chemistn^, of little use to a medical student.

When I settled in Philadelphia there were four medical
schools, which, in 1857- '58 had an aggregate class of eleven
hundred and thirty-nine students. Of these, five hundred
and one attended the Jefferson Medical College, four hun-
dred and thirty-five the University of Pennsylvania, one
hundred and forty the Pennsylvania College, and sixty-
three the Philadelphia College. The number of graduates
in the same institutions was four hundred and seven —
two hundred and nine in the first named, one hundred
and forty-five in the second, thirty-five in the third, and
eighteen in the fourth.

It was the custom at that time for each professor to de-
liver a lecture introductory to his course at the opening
of the session, the first week of which was always con-
sumed in this absurd manner. To break up this system
it took me four years, two of the schools having in the
meantime perished from inanition. The University and
Jefferson College, after repeated intervaews upon the sub-
ject, finally agreed to have only one general introductory
and to commence the didactic course the next day, the
class thus gaining five days of valuable time, consumed
inider the other system mostly in idleness. I have always
claimed some credit for having efifected this important
change. It was too bad that twenty-eight men should
have wasted their time and talents in this manner. It was
almost as hard to move the two Faculties of the schools in
this matter as it would be for a resfiment of soldiers to

132 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

move the rock of Gibraltar, so completely steeped were
they in fog^}-ism.

During the late war I was seized, as was natural with
one in my position, with a great desire to make myself
practically acquainted with the nature and treatment of
gunshot injuries, and for this purpose I visited the battle-
field of Shiloh, in Tennessee, shortly after I received in-
telligence of that engagement. This, if I mistake not,
was fought on the 6th and 7th of April, and I set out on
my journey on the evening of the loth. A heavy snow-
storm prevailing in the afternoon and evening, the train
was delayed about fifteen miles out of town, and we did
not reach Harrisburg until late in the afternoon. When I
arrived at Shiloh all the wounded had been placed upon
government steamboats lying at the wharf at Pittsburg
Landing. Upon one of these I took passage as far as
Mound City, where, and at Cairo, accommodations had
been provided for the unfortunate sufferers. On the voy-
asre I examined and took notes of all the more inter-
esting cases ; and I did the same in the hospital at Mound
City during the six days that I remained at that then
apparently God-forsaken village, in which there was not
a dry spot for a man's feet to rest upon. The whole
country for miles around was submerged, and, as the Ohio
River was very high, the scene as witnessed from my
lodgings in the hospital was frightful. During my so-
journ in this delectable place, designed by its enthusiastic
founders to become a great city and a great commercial
and manufacturing centre, I received every possible atten-
tion and courtesy from the hospital physicians for the
succcessful prosecution of my inquiries. The hospital
contained many highly interesting and instructive cases,
sketches of which were transferred to my note-book for
future reference.

I must not forget to state that, in company with my
son, Dr. S. W. Gross, Brigade Surgeon, I rode leisurely

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 133

over tlie battlefield at Shiloh, and I became strongly im-
pressed with the disadvantages of such a position. Most
of the hard fighting took place on timbered ground, amidst
ugly ravines and more or less underbrush, rendering the
movements of both armies very embarrassing. The boat
which carried me up to Pittsburg Landing had on board
several military ofiicers and a large number of medical
men, intent, for the most part, upon seeing the battle-
field and rendering such assistance as the occasion might
demand. The evening before we reached our destination
I delivered, at the unanimous request of my professional
brethren, an extemporaneous lecture upon amputations
and gunshot injuries, for which they tendered me a vote
of thanks. I was absent from home nearly three weeks,
and when I returned I felt fully compensated for the fatigue
and expense of the journey.

In the spring of 1862 Surgeon-General Hammond offered
me the post of Surgeon-in-Chief of the George Street Hos-
pital in this city, an office which, as I had no fitness for
it, I promptly declined, preferring to be placed in charge
of the surgical ward, so as to be the better able to study
gunshot injuries. The hospital was kept open for about
nine months, and under the judicious administration of
Dr. L. D. Harlow, who was appointed, at my solicitation,
to the position originally offered to me, it effected a great
deal of good ; great attention was paid to cleanliness and
ventilation, and the number of recoveries was proportion-
ably gratifying. During my connection with the hospital
I performed a number of important operations, such as
amputation of the thigh and excision of the shoulder-joint,
followed, in nearly every instance, by excellent recovery.

In the summer of 1862 I was appointed by Surgeon-
General Hammond a member of a board of commissioners
to examine into the merits of artificial limbs, with the view
of furnishing our mutilated soldiers with a proper substi-
tute. The board consisted of Dr. Valentine Mott, Dr.

134 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Satterlee, U. S. A., Dr. Bache, U. S. N., Dr. W. H. Van
Buren, and myself. The meeting was held in New York.
Upwards of a dozen manufacturers were in attendance,
and they all with one accord assured the commission that
the flap operation, as it is termed by surgeons, left by far
the best stump for the adaptation and comfortable wearing
of an artificial substitute. I strongly advocated the use
of what is known as the peg leg, on account of its better
adaptation to the wants of the private soldier. In this,
however, I was overruled, every one of my colleagues
being in favor of supplying each man with the more ele-
gant and costly, but far less durable, limb. I do not know
what the government paid for this luxurious article, but
the price of each could not have been much less than one
hundred dollars.

Immediately after the battle of Bull Run I went to
Washington City, Georgetown and Alexandria to inspect
the hospitals in those places and to study gunshot wounds.
At Washington, the day after the battle, everything was
in confusion ; soldiers were lying in the streets in great
numbers, some on their knapsacks, others on the bare
earth, and horses and wagons were often seen in every
direction, apparently without any one in charge of them.
The whole city, indeed, seemed to be completely demoral-
ized. The next day I visited Arlington Heights, the late
residence of General Lee, and then drove over to Alexan-
dria, in the hospitals of which every courtesy was shown
me by the surgeons in attendance. Whatever struck me
as of interest I took notes of, and afterwards embodied
some of the material thus collected in my System of Sur-
ger\'. The treatment here, as well as in the hospitals at
Washington and Georgetown, was for the most part very
simple, consisting largely of cold-water dressings, with
great attention to cleanliness and ventilation. Before I
left Washington I called upon Mr. Cameron, the Secretary
of War, to offer my services to the government in any

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 135

capacity in which they might be useful ; but no demand
was ever made upon them, and the consequence was that
I remained quietly at home in the bosom of my family,
cultivating the arts of peace and attending faithfully to
my practice. At that time our wise statesmen cherished
the idea that the war would be at an end in less than
ninety days. Any goose who had the slightest knowledge
of Southern character might have known better. This
stupidity came ver>^ nigh proving disastrous to the Gov-
ernment.

Soon after my arrival at Philadelphia, Dr. T. G. Richard-
son and I issued the North American IVIedico-Chinirgical
Review, Messrs. J. B. Lippincott & Co. being the publish-
ers. The understanding was that the patrons of the Louis-
ville Medical Review should receive the new journal for
the first six months to cover their subscription, which was
five dollars a year. One of the peculiar features of the
new, or rather substitute, journal was that each depart-
ment of the sciences was intrusted to a separate contrib-
utor, whose duty it was to furnish an abstract of the
current literature, so that it was always fully booked up
in regard to the latest discoveries and improvements. The
reviews were analytical and critical — sometimes quite caus-
tic, although never discourteous or unjust. The Editor's
Table was always interesting, as it gave a brief abstract
of the latest intelligence. There were, besides, necrolo-
gical notices and a bi-monthly bibliographical record. The
original articles were often able and elaborate. One of our
most learned, frequent, and exhaustive writers was Dr.
John Bell, A dollar a page was the sum — and a meagre
one it was — paid to the contributors. The work went on
well until the war broke out, when all our Southern sub-
scribers dropped off, and the publishers were compelled to
abandon it at the close of the fifth year. It was a day of
great rejoicing with me when I received the intimation
that this step was required ; for during the last twelve

136 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

months of the existence of the journal really the whole
drudgery of editing it devolved upon me, notwithstanding
the original stipulation to the contrary — Dr. Richardson
having moved to New Orleans more than three years pre-
viously as Professor of Anatomy in the University of
Louisiana, and my son, Dr. Samuel W. Gross, who had
acted as assistant editor, having gone into the army as a
brigade surgeon. I had fretted under the editorial hard-
ships, and was therefore charmed when I got rid of a task
which had been, in some degree, forced upon me, for
which I never had any taste, and which encroached alto-
gether too much upon my time and patience. What was
worse than all, when anything appeared in the pages of
the journal that was in any wise offensive, either in reality
or imagination, the whole burden was sure to fall upon
me as the senior editor. To the abuse which I thus re-
ceived I rarely formally replied, a note of explanation
being generally deemed quite sufficient. I was deter-
mined never to involve myself or the journal in contro-
versy, or to do anything inconsistent with professional,
manly editorial dignity. Great regret was expressed at
the discontinuance of the journal, and even long after that
event — even, indeed, after the close of the war — letters
reached me from various sections of the country v/ith a
request to send specimen numbers of the Review, the
writers not knowing that it had long ago breathed its
last. It was considered, although I say it myself, the best
critical medical journal ever published on this continent,
and for that reason, if no other, it was a source of regret
with many practitioners that it was so short-lived.

I contributed to the pages of this journal a number of
more or less elaborate reviews, as well as original papers,
and it was made, during the greater part of its existence,
the vehicle of the reports of my clinics at the Philadelphia
Hospital and the Jefferson Medical College. In the July
number for 1858 I furnished an elaborate paper of forty

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 137

pages on the Nature and Treatment of Tuberculosis of
the Hip Joint, ilkistrated by dissections. Fees for Pro-
fessional Services was published in the Editor's Table at
the end of the volume. One of the most careful articles
furnished by me was a Sketch of the Life and Services
of Ambrose Pare, covering twenty-four pages. It was my
last contribution to the journal, with the exception of some
necrological notices and the editorial valedictory.

In the autumn of 1857 ^ founded, along with Dr. J. ]\I.
Da Costa, the Philadelphia Pathological Society, of which
I was elected the first President and Dr. Da Costa the first
Secretary. Dr. Rene La Roche and Dr. Alfred Stille were
Vice-Presidents, Dr. Thomas G. Morton Assistant Sec-
retaiy, and Dr. Addinell Hewson Treasurer. The meet-
ings were held then, as now, once a fortnight, and con-
sisted principally of the younger members of the pro-
fession. The idea of instituting such a society was first
broached by myself to Dr. Da Costa, whose feelings
were at once warmly enlisted in the matter ; and within
a few weeks after we had talked it over the prelimi-
nary meeting took place at my office. For a number
of years the society occupied a room in the building on
the Pennsylvania Hospital grounds, formerly used for the
accommodation of West's picture of Christ Healing the
Sick. After the completion of the new edifice of the Col-
lege of Physicians an apartment was rented in it, which
the Society has ever since occupied. It has been steadily
increasing in prosperity and influence. Its Transactions,
originally published in the North American Aledico-Chi-
rurgical Review, and afterwards in the American Journal
of the Medical Sciences, is now issued in book form.

One of the chief motives which induced me to remove
to Philadelphia was to get rid of a large and annoying
family practice at Louisville and to write an elaborate
System of vSurgery, for the production of which my leisure
in Kentucky was not sufficient. I had long contemplated

138 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

such a work, and I knew tliat unless I changed my resi-
dence I sliould never be able to fulfil an object which
lay so near my heart and was so intimately interwoven
with my ambition and the great purposes of my profes-
sional life. Accordingly, upon my arrival in Philadel-
phia, I confined myself strictly to office and consultation
business, to patients from a distance, and to surgical oper-
ations, A few families, nevertheless, attached themselves
to me, despite my wishes ; but, with these exceptions,
I have rigidly carried out my original intention, and
I have thus escaped a vast deal of hard work, especially
night practice, which always causes so much wear and
tear of mind and body. The income from my practice
the first year amounted to four thousand dollars ; from the
school, a little upwards of five thousand dollars. My busi-
ness after this rapidly increased, and the school also in-
creased in prosperity until the outbreak of the war, when
both declined, as we were cut off from Southern patients
and Southern students, as I have already mentioned.

I had commenced the composition of my Surgery several
years before I left Kentucky, and I now set vigorously to
work to complete it. I had sketched the plan and adopted
a title, both of which met with the approval of Messrs.
Blanchard & Lea, who had agreed to publish it. I had
determined to do my best to make it, if possible, the most
elaborate, if not the most complete, treatise in the English
language, and I therefore gave myself ample time for the
labor. The heads of my lectures served me as a valuable
guide, and I generally wrote with facility, as my know-
ledge of the subject, from long study, practice, and con-
templation, was extensive, and, in the main, accurate.
I generally spent from five to eight hours a day upon my
manuscript, subject of course to frequent and sometimes
annoying interruptions by patients. In the winter I com-
monly sat up till eleven and half past eleven o'clock at
night. I then closed my study, and almost invariably took

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 139

a walk down Chestnut Street as far as the State House, in
order to obtain a little fresh air and to shake off my mind
the subject upon which I had been so assiduously engaged.
By this means I generally succeeded in obtaining a good
night's rest with sound and refreshing sleep. Unless I
was greatly interrupted, I seldom wrote less than from ten
to fifteen pages of foolscap in the twenty-four hours, and
I rarely retired until they were carefully corrected. It was
not often I rewrote anything, although I not unfrequently
interlined. In the winter, during the continuance of the
lectures, my pen was less active than in the recess, but
I nevertheless seldom failed to do a good day's work. I
jogged along in this manner until early in the spring of
1859, when, the manuscript being ready, the printers com-
menced their task, and I the hard one of proof-reading.
The preface was dated July 8th, 1859. Soon after, the
work was issued in two portly octavo volumes, numbering,
in the aggregate, two thousand three hundred and sixty
pages, and profusely illustrated by engravings on wood.
The mechanical execution was highly creditable to the
publishers, printers, and artists. The edition comprised
two thousand copies, and cost a large sum of money,
enough, as Blanchard «& Lea assured me, to have enabled
them to open a respectable mercantile house on Market
Street.

An author is not always happy when his labor is over.
Like Gibbon, he may congratulate himself, or even thank
God, that the last syllable has oozed from the point of his
pen. But his self-complacency is short-lived, when, after
the first night's repose, he reflects that his work has to
pass through an ocean of criticism, and that every little
cock-sparrow that sits upon an editorial tripod is ready
to pounce xipon him and pronounce judgment upon his
writings, whether he knows anything of their merits or
not. I had not to wait long for a verdict. First came the
weeklies, then the monthlies and bi-monthlies, and finally

I40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the stately quarterlies, all testifying to the excellence of
the work, and not a few of them declaring that it was the
best system of Surgery in the English, if not, indeed, in
any language. Of course, they said, it had faults and
imperfections, but these were, for the most part, passed
lightly over, and, in the main, I had great reason to be
satisfied with the verdict of my countrymen. Abroad the
work was equally well received, the reviewers bestov/ing
upon it the highest encomiums, both as a scientific and
literary production. My surgical brethren to whom I had
sent complimentary copies, all, with one exception, and
that a former colleague and one of my most intimate
friends, at least confessedly so, bore testimony to the
success of my labors. Although I have since repeatedly
met the excepted gentleman and have seen in his study
the identical copy of the work I sent him, he has never
alluded to it in my presence. My philosophy has never
been able to comprehend his reticence, the less so as he
occupies, and that very deservedly, an elevated professional
position.

The work has now — 1870 — passed through four editions,
the last of which was stereotyped for six thousand copies.
Each issue, excepting the stereotyped one, was a great
improvement upon the preceding, the labor spent upon
it having been excessive, in search of every available
source of information, including always the results of my
own ever-increasing experience and more mature reflec-
tion. The edition now in preparation has occupied all
my leisure during the last four years, and has required an
almost inconceivable amount of labor in the way of addi-
tions and modifications. The work will, in fact, be so
thoroughly changed, and so greatly improved, as to consti-
tute essentially a new production. Much of this labor has
been rendered necessary by the extraordinary progress of
surgery and the remarkable changes that have occurred in
the treatment of accidents and diseases. It will be a long

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 141

time before tlie laws of this department of the healing art
will be as immutable as those of the ]\Iedes and Persians.
This edition was issued in 1872, the last proof having been
read the evening before my departure for Europe.

Bacon has remarked that " Some books are to be tasted,
.... and some few to be chewed and digested, ' ' Mine,
I fear, belongs to the former rather than to the latter class.
It would take a man, even with the most excellent set of
teeth, a long time to chew my big book, and a much
longer time, even with the most powerful stomach, to
digest it ; and yet the work has had many readers ; and
so, judging from this fact, it m.ust have been productive
either of much good or much harm.

I have often been told that I have simplified surger\\
A higher compliment could not have been paid me. Both
as a writer and as a teacher my aim has always been to
make myself understood, or, in other words, to express
myself in clear, intelligible language, and to compress the
greatest amount of matter into the smallest possible space.
I was never satisfied unless I could give at least one ex-
haustive outline of the subject discussed. To leave a
subject imperfect was, in my opinion, to mutilate it.

What compensation does the reader think I obtained for
this hard work, this excessive toil of my brain, including
original composition, the correction and improvement of
new editions, and the proof-reading, in itself a horrible
task, death to brain and eyes, extending over a period
certainly not less than fifteen years? Eighty-five cents a
copy, all told, and no extra dividends ! Two dollars and
a half ought to have been the price, or, what would have
been more equitable, an equal distribution of the profits
from the sale of the work. No wonder authors are poor
and publishers are rich !

One of the most painful circumstances associated with
authorship is the uncertainty connected with one's works,
or, in other words, with the fate that may await them, the

142 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

duration of their existence, and the estimation in which
they will be held by posterity, should they be so fortunate
as to reach it. ' ' lyiterature, ' ' says Horace Walpole, ' ' has
many revolutions ; if an author could rise from the dead
after a hundred years, what would be his surprise at the
adventures of his work!" Professional works, however
erudite or scientific, are usually short-lived. Few survive
their authors, and hardly one remains in active circula-
tion beyond fifteen or twenty years.

The only review of my System of Surgery, at all
worthy of the work, was given of the fifth edition in the
Dublin Journal of Medical Science for 1874. It comprised
nearly fifty pages of that periodical, and was at once
able, critical, and analytical. The review thus concludes :
" His work is cosmopolitan, the surger\^ of the world being
fully represented in it. The work, in fact, is so histori-
cally unprejudiced, and so eminently practical, that it is
almost a false compliment to say that we believe it to be
destined to occupy a foremost place as a work of reference
while a system of surgery, like the present system of sur-
gery, is the practice of surgeons."

At the outbreak of the war I wrote a little Manual of
Military Surgery, a kind of pocket companion for the
young surgeons who were flocking into the anny, and who
for the most part were ill prepared for the prompt and effi-
cient discharge of their duties. It was composed in nine
days, and published in a fortnight from the time of its
inception, having originally been designed as a leading
article for the North American Medico- Chirurgical Review.
The work embraced in outline the whole subject of mili-
tary surgery and hygiene, and under the care of J. B. Lip-
pincott & Co. passed through two editions of two thousand
copies each. It was republished at Richmond, and was
extensively cited by the Confederate surgeons during the
war. This little book was far more profitable to me, in a
commercial point of view, considering the time and labor

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 143

bestowed upon it, than any other of my productions. A
translation of it in Japanese appeared at Tokio in 1874.

In 1861 I edited a work, an octavo volume of upwards
of eight hundred pages, entitled Lives of Eminent Ameri-
can Physicians and Surgeons of the Nineteenth Century.
It was dedicated to Dr. Samuel Jackson, an eminent phy-
sician of this city, formerly of Northumberland, Pennsyl-
vania, and to Dr. John W. Francis, of New York, one of
the great men of the country', full of wit, learning, and
bonho7nie. It v/as designed to fill a void that had long
been felt in our literature, the only productions of the kind
being those of Thacher and of Williams, for the most part
crude compilations, especially the work of the latter. My
list of collaborators embraced some of the ablest medical
men in the country. The two most elaborate as well as
the two best articles were those on Rush and Physick, sup-
plied, respectively, by Dr. Samuel Jackson and Dr. John
Bell, of this city. For the latter I paid one hundred dol-
lars, and it was the only one for which any compensation
was asked. Bell was poor, and I could not refuse. Alto-
gether the work cost me upwards of two hundred dollars —
a dead loss, as I never received anything for the copyright.
I contributed myself only three sketches — Ephraim Mc-
Dowell, the ovariotomist ; Drake, the great Western physi-
cian ; and John Syng Dorsey, the nephew of Physick and
the author of the Elements of Surgery. The book cost me
much labor and vexation, and was, commercially speaking,
a failure. The undertaking was altogether a labor of love
on my part.

In 1868, in the discourse which I read before the Ameri-
can Medical Association at its meeting at Washington, as
its president, I called, among other matters, the attention
of that body to a new method of appointing medical wit-
nesses as experts in cases involving medico-legal consider-
ations. In 1869, at the meeting at New Orleans, an elab-
orate paper from my pen on the Training of Nurses was

144

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

read, I myself being absent from unavoidable circum-
stances. The following year I read the same paper be-
fore the Pennsylvania State IMedical Society, at its meet-
ing at Erie. The paper attracted much attention, as it
was the first ever published on that subject in the United
States. Extra copies were printed, and a committee was
appointed to bring the matter more prominently before the
profession and the public ; but it failed to act, and others
have since done the work.

The publication of an American Medical Register, com-
prising a list of the names and residences of all the mem-
bers of the regular profession, afterwards issued by Dr.
D. G. Brinton, editor of the Philadelphia Medical and
Surgical Reporter, had its origin in my suggestion.

In June, 1874, I read before the American Medical Asso-
ciation, at its meeting at Detroit, an address on Syphilis
in its Relation to the National Health, in which I spoke
of the deteriorating influence of this disease upon the
human race, of its extensive prevalence, of the import-
ance of enacting laws for its arrest, and of the identity,
in many cases, of syphilis and what is known as scrofula.
The address, comprising nearly fifty pages, afterwards
published in the Transactions of the Association, occupied
nearly two hours in its delivery, and received the highest
commendation from the meeting, — from Dr, Sims, of New
York, more especially, who in some eloquent remarks,
called attention to its great value, and offered a resolution
for the appointment of a committee to present the sub-
ject to the consideration of the legislatures of the different
States and Territories. Extra copies were widely dissemi-
nated. The preparation of the address cost me much labor
and thought. The unicity of the syphilitic poison was
strongly insisted upon, and established by irrefragable tes-
timony. The Detroit Free Press, of June 4th, 1874, in
speaking of this address, says: "Dr. Gross delivered a
long, learned, and deeply interesting discourse upon a

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 145

strictly professional subject, the nature of which forbids its
publication in a secular journal." This remark reminds
me of my boyish days, when, in certain rural districts,
over-modest dames used to blush when they spoke of Leg-
horn hats, and dressed the legs of the piano in pantalets ;
it is an illustration of the old adage, "Straining at a
gnat and swallowing a camel." The filthy quack ad-
vertisements in the same number of the Free Press
are in striking contrast with such squeamishness on the
part of its editor. The occasion was a most opportune
one for calling attention to a disease which is rapidly
undermining the health and life of the nation, and which
is a hundredfold worse in its effects than the fiercest
epidemic that ever struck terror into the hearts of a people.
In Great Britain and on the continent of Europe they gen-
erally call such things by their proper names. In this
country, which in this respect is less enlightened, we are
acquiring this habit gradually. Fanatics and hypocrites
cannot be taken by storm.

The following year I read before the same body, at its
meeting at Louisville, May 5th, 1875, a discourse on
Bloodletting Considered as a Therapeutic Agent. ]\Iy
object in preparing the address was to recall the attention
of the profession to the importance of the abstraction of
blood in the treatment of inflammation. I asserted that the
operation ought to be performed more frequently, and that,
with proper care, it was calculated to be of immense benefit
not only in the treatment of inflammation, but in many
other affections attended with general vascular repletion
and local congestions. This paper was also well received,
and I flatter myself that it has already been productive of
much good. The announcement of the title of the dis-
course, One of the Lost Arts, excited much attention and
speculation previous to its deliver)' before the Association.

In October, 1875, I delivered two elaborate lectures in-
troductory to my course at the college on the History of
1—19

146 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

American Medical Literature from 1776 to the Present
Time. These discourses cost me much labor, occupying
most of my leisure between my return from the meeting
of the American Medical Association at Louisville and the
opening of the winter session of the school. The design
of the lectures, afterwards issued in book form, was to give
a sketch, true and faithful, of the literature of the profes-
sion, holding up as in a mirror what each author had
done to illustrate his respective department. The brochure
occupies eighty-five octavo pages.

In the American Journal of the Medical Sciences for
April, 1876, is an article, consisting of fifty-three closely-
printed pages, from my pen on the History of American
Surgery from 1776 to 1876. It is one of several papers by
different writers illustrative of the progress of the different
branches of medicine in this country during the period
here specified, and it has since, along with these papers,
been issued in book form as a kind of centennial souvenir.
I need not add how much effort and thought this sketch
cost me. It was written at the request of the editors of the
Journal. Mr. Lea, the proprietor, paid me the magnifi-
cent sum of sixty-six dollars and twenty-five cents for my
labor ; that is, at the rate of one dollar and a quarter a
page ! Let me add, however, that pecuniary compensation
did not influence me in preparing it for the press. The
article will be read one hundred years hence, and that
must be my reward.

Among other contributions which I have at various
times made to medical and surgical literature, I may
briefly refer to the following : —

A Valedictory Address to the Students of the Jefferson
Medical College: March 14th, i860.

An Account of a Remarkable Case of Melanosis, or Black
Cancer : from the North American Medico-Chirurgical Review for
May, i860.

Practical Observations on the Nature and Treatment of

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 147

Prostatorrhcea : a paper read before the Medical Society of the
State of Pennsylvania, at its meeting in Philadelphia, June, i860,
and published in the North American Medico-Chirurgical Review
and in the Society's Transactions.

Brunonianism, Toddism, and other Isms : a paper read before
the Philadelphia County Medical Society, November 14th, i860,
and published in the North American Medico-Chirurgical Review,
January, 1861.

Necrological Notice of Jedediah Cobb, M. D., formerly
Professor of Anatomy in the University of Louisville : published in
the same Review, January, 1861.

Biographical Sketch of Charles Wilkins Short, M. D.,
formerly Professor of Materia Medica and Medical Botany in the
University of Louisville, Kentucky : prepared by request of the
American Philosophical Society.

Then and Now : Advances in Medical Science in the
Past Forty Years : a Discourse Introductory to the Forty-third
Course of Lectures in the Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia
in 1867. This address attracted much attention, and occupied
nearly two hours in its delivery.

The Live Physician : Charge to the Graduates at the Forty-third
Annual Commencement of the Jefferson Medical College in 1868.

A Memoir of Valentine Mott, M. D. : in 1868.

A Memoir of Robley Dunglison, M. D. : read before the Col-
lege of Physicians of Philadelphia, October 20th, 1869.

In May, 1870, I contributed to the Medical Practitioner, issued
at Louisville, an article on Nature's Voice in Disease and Con-
valescence.

An Address before the Alumni Association of the Jef-
ferson Medical College: March nth, 1871.

Address before the Medical Society of the State of Penn-
sylvania AT ITS Twenty-second Annual Session: June, 1871.

The Factors of Disease and Death after Injuries, Partu-
rition, AND Surgical Operations : a paper read before the Amer-
ican Public Health Association in Philadelphia, November, 1874.

The Glory and Hardships of the Medical Life: a Vale-
dictory Address at the Forty-ninth Annual Commencement of the
Jefferson Medical College, March nth, 1875.

148 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

The Proximate Cause of Pain : an address delivered before
the American Medical Association at its meeting at Chicago, 1877:

An Address Delivered before the Kentucky State Med-
ical Society at its Meeting at Danville, in 1879, at the
Dedication of the Monument Erected in Memory of Eph-
RAiM McDowell : published in octavo by the Society.

A Memoir of Dr. Isaac Hays, late editor of the American Jour-
nal of the Medical Sciences : published in the Journal, and sepa-
rately in 1879.

The Social Position of the Doctor : published in the New
York Medical Record, March 13th, 1880.

In 1 88 1 I prepared a memoir of John Hunter, entitled John
Hunter and His Pupils, read in the same year as an anniversary
discourse before the Academy of Surgery of Philadelphia, and pub-
lished soon after as an octavo volume of ninety-six pages.

In 1882 I delivered the valedictory address to the graduates of
Bellevue Hospital Medical College, New York : not published.

An Address of Welcome before the National Association
FOR the Protection of the Insane and the Prevention of
Insanity : January, 1883.

A paper on the Value of Early Operations in Morbid
Growths : read before the American Surgical Association at its meet-
ing at Cincinnati, in May, 1883, and published in its Transactions.

The Importance of Having Trained Nurses for the Smaller
Towns and Rural Districts, and the Proper Method of
Securing Them : published in the Philadelphia Medical News for
September 15th, 1883.

Obituary Notice of Dr. J. Marion Sims : prepared for the Med-
ical News the evening after I received the intelligence of his death.

Note. — In addition to the contributions referred to, Dr. Gross a few weeks
before his death wrote two important papers, in the preparation of which
he had taken profound interest, and the proof of which he corrected during
the pain and physical weakness incident to his last illness. Of these, the former
— Wounds of the Intestines — was read before the American Surgical Associa-
tion by his friend, Professor T. G. Richardson, of New Orleans, on April 30th,
1884; and the latter, entitled Lacerations OF the Female Sexual Organs
Consequent upon Parturition ; their Causes and their Prevention, was read,
two days after his death, by Dr. S. C. Busey, before the American Medical
Association. — Editors.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 149

During my residence at Cincinnati I was elected a mem-
ber of the Cincinnati Medical Society, of the Ohio His-
torical and Philosophical Society at Columbus, and of the
Medical Society of Louisiana at New Orleans. After I
moved to Louisville, I became a member of the College
of Physicians of Philadelphia, and of the American Phil-
osophical Society. In 1868 I was elected a member of
the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society of London ;
and in 1869 of the Imperial Lledical Society of Vienna.
While in attendance at the British Medical Association
at Oxford in August, 1868, I was made an honorary mem-
ber of that body. I am a member of the jMassachusetts
Medical Society, of the New York State Medical Society,
of the Academy of IMedicine of New York, of the Phila-
delphia County Medical Society, of the Medical Society of
the State of Pennsylvania, of the Kentucky State Medical
Society, of the American Medical Association, of the Na-
tional Association for the Protection of the Insane, of the
American Public Health Association, of the Academy of
Natural Sciences, of the Pathological Society of Philadel-
phia, and of the Medical Jurisprudence Society of Phila-
delphia. In April, 1870, I received the diploma of the
Medico-Chirurgical Society of Edinburgh, composed of
the most distinguished men in that city. I am also a
member of the Medical Society of Christiania, and of the
Royal Society of Public Medicine of Belgium. In April,
1874, I was elected a member of the Clinical Society of
London ; in 1876, of the Sociedad Medica de San Luis
Potosi of Mexico ; and soon after of the Medical Society of
London.

In April, 1870, I was appointed president of the Teach-
ers' Medical Convention, assembled at Washington City,
to consider the improvements that might be suggested for
a system of education for the American Medical Colleges.
In June of the following year I was elected president of
the Medical Society of the State of Pennsylvania, at its

I50

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

meeting in this city. In September, 1876, I was honored
with the office of president of the International Medical
Congress, held in this city — an honor which I greatly value,
the more because it was unsolicited, and unanimously be-
stowed both by the committee on nominations and by the
congress. On the 19th of November, 1878, I was elected
an honorary member of the Pathological Society of Lon-
don, a distinction which I highly appreciated, as I was the
first regular teacher of Pathological Anatomy in the United
States.

During my residence at Louisville I assisted in founding
the Kentucky State INIedical Society, of which I was after-
wards president; in 1863, I was elected president of the
Philadelphia County Medical Society ; and, in 1867, pres-
ident of the American Medical Association, a compliment
the more cherished because it was conferred at Cincin-
nati, my early Western home, upwards of a quarter of a
century before. In 1880 I was made president of the Board
of Trustees of the Pennsylvania College of Dental Surgery,
and in 1883 I was made president of the Medical Juris-
prudence Society of Philadelphia.

The Philadelphia Academy of Surgery was founded in
1879. I was the originator of it, as I was also of the
American Surgical Association, instituted in 1880. They
each did me the honor to make me president. I had
myself long seen the necessity for two such associations,
one of a local and the other of a national character ; and
when I formally broached the matter to some of my sur-
gical friends, they at once offered me their cooperation.
The object of both these societies, as expressed in their
respective constitutions, prepared by myself, and after-
wards adopted with certain modifications, is the culti-
vation and improvement of the art and science of
Surgery, and the promotion of the interest not only of
their Fellows but of the Medical profession at large. Both
societies are already in a flourishing condition, and, if judi-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 151

ciously conducted, cannot fail to contribute materially to
the advancement and dignity of Surgical Science in the
United States, which has already produced so many
able and distinguished surgeons. It is no vain boast-
ing when I declare that, in my opinion, the surgeons of
this countr>' are fully equal in learning, and in ability as
diagnosticians, operators, teachers, and writers, to any in
the Old World. This opinion is now, I am happy to add,
generally accepted. Vast strides have been made in all
these respects during the last twenty years ; and that the
two institutions under consideration will be instrumental
in creating a spirit of generous and useful rivalry, espe-
cially among the younger members of the profession, can-
not for one moment be doubted. I certainly anticipate
great results ; and, if my expectations be realized even in a
comparatively slight degree, I shall be amply compensated
for all the care and labor I have bestowed upon them.
American surgery has given the world Ovariotomy and
Anaesthesia, two of the greatest boons ever conferred upon
humanity, and it is actively engaged in contributing its
share in settling the great problems, therapeutic and
operative, which are ever>-where agitating the surgical
profession. Where genius, industry, and talent are so
conspicuously developed, the sceptre will not be likely to
be monopolized by any one nation.

CHAPTER VI.

PROFESSIONAL INCOME AND FEES — TEACHING — KNOWLEDGE OF PATHOLOGICAL
ANATOMY — AS A PRACTITIONER, PHYSICIAN, SURGEON, AND ACCOUCHEUR —
AS A WRITER AND AUTHOR.

I LEFT Philadelphia a few hundred dollars in debt, not-
withstanding I had parted a short time previously with
my books, and it therefore took me some time after I
settled at Easton to get a sufficient start to discharge my
small liabilities. This was a source of great annoyance to
me, and caused me some anxiety, although my creditors
were very indulgent. At Easton I soon obtained practice,
but as the charges were very low I made little beyond my
expenses, so that when I left for Cincinnati I had, as stated
in a previous page, less than two hundred and fifty dollars
in my pocket. I cannot refrain here from referring more
particularly to the subject of fees at Easton. A visit in
town was fifty cents, and out of the town from one to two
dollars, according to the distance, including a small charge
for medicine, which it was the custom for the physician to
put up himself, he being obliged for this purpose to keep
a small supply on hand in his office. A consultation visit
was five dollars for the first, and a dollar for each subse-
quent one. Bleeding in the spring and autumn was then
very common, as a means, as was believed, of purifying
the blood and relieving congestion. Sometimes a person
would come with a request to be bled in the foot, on the
assumption that it was a great remedy for headache ! The
quantity of blood lost for these and other purposes gener-
ally varied from sixteen to twenty-four ounces. Unless the
loss was considerable the patient did not consider that he
152

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 153

had received an equivalent for his money. These charges
were beyond doubt very contemptible ; but then it is to be
borne in mind that rent, provisions, and clothing were much
lower than they are now. A chicken, for example, could
be bought at six to ten cents, and the best quality of beef
at about eight to nine cents. The ordinary fee for an
obstetric case was five dollars among the poorer classes,
and from ten to twenty-five among the wealthier and more
influential.

For the last eighteen months of my residence at Easton
I enjoyed the office of surgeon to the recruiting barracks,
with a salary of thirty dollars a month. This sum was of
great importance to me in meeting my current expenses.
I was indebted for this position to a former schoolmate,
Lieutenant Perkins, of the army, a warm-hearted, generous
fellow.

When I left Easton I disposed of my practice, along
with the office of recruiting surgeon, to an early medical
friend, and it was to this circumstance chiefly that was
due my ability to remove to Cincinnati. The few hundred
dollars which I received from this source were of ver>' great
advantage to me in my new home.

At Cincinnati the charges were also miserably low, the
ordinary visit being one dollar and the consultation five.
My practice the first year yielded me upwards of fourteen
hundred dollars, and the Demonstratorship in the Medical
College of Ohio about five hundred dollars, making an
aggregate of nearly two thousand dollars. During the last
year, my seventh, my books showed upwards of nine thou-
sand dollars as the result of my practice, a considerable
portion being consultation, which had rapidly increased
during the last three years both in extent and influence.
I also did a large share of surgical practice, and not un-
frequently visited patients at a distance. I was, in fact, in
the possession of a large field, worthy of cultivation, and
in the enjoyment of a rapidly increasing reputation.

154 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

At Louisville the charges for professional services were
much higher than at Cincinnati, and I soon began to
accumulate money. My surgical practice and the income
from the school made me independent, but not rich, and
when, in 1856, I quit Kentucky I was hardly worth sixty
thousand dollars, all told. I was now fifty-one years old,
and had toiled in my profession, as few men have ever
toiled, for upwards of a quarter of a centur}^ I was, how-
ever, perfectly happy and contented, having never craved,
much less worked for, riches. My family had no reason-
able wants that could not readily be supplied, and they
had the rare faculty of accommodating themselves to
circumstances.

The largest fee I ever received was two thousand dol-
lars, paid me for a visit which I made at Montgomery,
Alabama, in 1865, to a rich planter affected with chronic
cystitis. During my residence at Louisville I got one
thousand dollars for a visit to another planter in North
Alabama. I was absent one week, making the journey on
a steamer, in which I employed nearly all my time in
writing a Discourse upon the Life and Character of Dr.
Drake, which I read soon after my return before the
trustees, faculty, and students of the University of Louis-
ville. Thus my time was spent quite profitably. The
lectures which were lost in consequence of my absence
I made up after my return. A few }'ears ago I received
one thousand dollars for an operation which I performed
upon a rich sugar refiner of this city for the relief of
neuralgia. I have repeatedly received five hundred dollars
for operations.

Doctors are often defrauded of their fees. The law, as a
principle, regards every man as honest until he is proved
to be guilty, and so, in the medical profession, every pa-
tient is considered to be honest until the reverse is found
to be the case — a contingency, I am sorry to say, by no
means uncommon. I have done a large share of what in

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 155

this countr}' is called an office practice, or what in Great
Britain is known as a chamber business, and I have never
refused to prescribe gratuitously for any one, however poor
or humble, provided he informed me beforehand that he
was unable to compensate me for my services. On the
other hand, I have often, after a laborious examination of
a case, torn my prescription in the teeth of my patient
when he told me, after the work was done, that he had no
money, especially when he had about him any appearance
of gentility. If he was dull or ignorant, or, to use a com-
mon expression, "did not seem to know better," I some-
times forgave the offence. "The laborer is worthy of his
hire, ' ' and people have no right to steal the time and ser-
vices of a physician any more than they have to steal gro-
ceries, dr}'goods, or any other commodity. The doctor
must live by his labors ; and, although our profession is a
liberal one, we ought to make a proper distinction between
the poor, properly so called, and those who are able, with-
out any inconvenience, to compensate us for our services.
Boerhaave used to say that the poor are our best patients,
because God is their paymaster. All this is ver}^ well ;
but there comes a time when a man looks for something
more substantial than a patient's mere "God bless you,
doctor!" There are many persons in every community
who would rather part with their eye-teeth than a five dol-
lar bill in payment of a physician's fee. In my younger
days, and, indeed, until after the age of fifty, I seldom
neglected the call of a poor patient ; and in my capacity as
a clinical teacher at the college I perfonn constantly an im-
mense amount of gratuitous work, including many opera-
tions involving great skill, much anxiety, and vast labor
during the after-treatment. I am sure I render thus every
year, at the most moderate calculation, services to the
value of several thousand dollars. It was a common
remark of my wife, that at my office I was generally
more polite and attentive to the poor than to the richer

156 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

class of patients ; and I was induced to do this because a
poor person's time is generally more valuable than that of
one in better circumstances.

A well-dressed young man, of the blackleg order, with
large rings on his fingers, and a big watch-chain on his
breast, strutted one day, during m^y residence at Louis-
ville, into my office, saying he had come from Indiana
to get me to make a very careful examination of his
case, adding that he had already consulted quite a num-
ber of physicians, who had all come to a different con-
clusion in regard to its character. After having handed
him my prescription, he rose to take his departure, when
I said, "You have forgotten my fee." "Oh!" he re-
plied, ' ' excuse me ; I have really no money with me. ' '
"You are then deliberately cheating me, are you?" And
thus saying, I locked the door and rang my office-bell,
which was promptly answered. "My servant will take
care of your watch until you can get the amount of my
fee." He went off, but returned in a few minutes with
the money, which, of course, he had at the time in his
pocket. The next day, in mentioning the circumstance
to several of my more prominent professional brethren, I
found that the fellow had consulted each of them, and
had come off scot-free in every instance. If there were
a proper esprit de corps among medical men in regard to
a just appreciation of their services, there would be less
cheating on the part of their patients, and the profession
would be placed upon an incomparably better footing, as
regards its own dignity and the respect due to it by the
public. I have never turned away a poor patient from
my office without prescribing for his ailments, often only
after the most laborious and painstaking examination ;
but I hate an impostor, and never allow myself to be im-
posed upon.

My professorships in the different medical schools with
which I have been connected have, up to the present

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 157

time — Febniar}', 1870 — yielded me about one hundred and
ten thousand dollars.

The income from my books has thus far been about
eighteen thousand dollars, of which the greater portion
has been derived from my System of Surgery. As I have
already stated, the first edition of the Pathological Anat-
omy brought me nothing, in consequence of the failure
of my Boston publishers. For the second edition Bar-
rington & Haswell paid me twelve hundred dollars ;
and for the third I received one thousand dollars from
Blanchard & Lea. The first edition of my Treatise on
the Urinar}^ Organs yielded me nothing ; for the second,
if I mistake not, I received one thousand dollars. For the
work on Foreign Bodies in the Air-Passages, issued by
Blanchard & Lea, and the American Medical Biography,
published by Lindsay & Blakiston, I was not paid anything.
The latter work, indeed, cost me at least two hundred dol-
lars in the way of outlays of various kinds.

My first effort as a public teacher was a lecture on Gen-
eral Anatomy, which I delivered at the Franklin Institute,
Philadelphia, in June, 1829, a little upwards of a year after
my graduation. I had, the summer previously, as men-
tioned in a former page, published a translation of Bayle
and Hollard's work on this subject, of which I had, more-
over, made a special study in other ways, so that I was
very well informed upon it ; and, as no one had ever given
any formal lectures upon it, I flattered myself, young and
inexperienced as I was, that I could make myself suflfi-
ciently interesting to attract a good class. In this, how-
ever, I was mistaken. The Introductory was advertised
to be given on a certain day ; and, although it was highly
complimented by several of my friends, the audience was
so slim that I had no encouragement to proceed with the
course. This was a sad disappointment to me ; the more
so, as I had hoped the occasion would afford me an oppor-
tunity of earning a little reputation. My great ambition

158 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

at that time was to become a teacher of anatomy, a study
to which I had devoted great attention during my student
life, and which I cultivated for many years with unabated
ardor and enthusiasm. Soon after my settlement at Easton
a friend, without my knowledge, made an effort to procure
for me the chair of Anatomy in the Washington Medical
College at Baltimore, then recently organized ; but, from
some cause not now remembered by me, he failed to accom-
plish his object.

My next effort at public teaching was as Demonstrator
of Anatomy in the Medical College of Ohio, in the attic
of which, as stated in a former page, I delivered three lec-
tures a week, for two winters, on visceral and surgical
anatomy, and I have always thought that those were the
most interesting and successful courses I ever gave upon
any subject. I certainly never lectured with more force
and enthusiasm at any period of my life.

In the Cincinnati College I lectured for four years on
Pathological Anatomy, including the structure and func-
tions of the tissues, and a general description of the vis-
cera, with an account of their color, consistence, weight,
and dimensions, as preliminary to the consideration of
their morbid alterations. I lost no opportunity to investi-
gate these topics, so important in their bearing upon the
elucidation of my chair. These examinations, the results
of which were afterwards embodied in my Elements of
Pathological Anatomy, were performed with great care and
patience ; and although they were not conducted on so
large a scale as some that preceded them, as, for example,
those of Bouillaud on the heart and Sims on the brain, yet
they embraced certain organs, as the pancreas and prostate
gland, which, as far as my information extends, had never
received any attention of this kind before.

When I received my appointment as Professor of Patho-
logical Anatomy in the Cincinnati College, I was thirty
years of age, and I was placed side by side with teachers

SAMUEL D. GROSS, AT. D. 159

of experience and acknowledged ability. I spared no
effort to acquit myself in as creditable a manner as pos-
sible. During the four months that preceded the opening
of the course I not only made full notes, but wrote out,
nearly in full, a number of my lectures, which I afterwards
delivered in great measure — indeed, often entirely — extem-
poraneously. After the first session I had acquired suffi-
cient confidence to trust myself merely with "heads," as
they are termed, and dispensed with manuscript alto-
gether— a circumstance which gave me more ease and
freedom, and greatly improved my power of utterance as
an effective teacher.

I have now taught surgery for thirty years — i84O-'70 —
and during all this time I have invariably spoken extem-
poraneously. The only didactic lecture, indeed, that I
have ever written was one on scrofula, which I committed
to the flames long ago. A man who understands his sub-
ject should never appear before his class with his manu-
script. He should be so thoroughly imbued with it —
should have ever^^thing so completely at his tongue's end
— as to let it off as if it were so much steam, blowing and
puffing, and throwing himself, heart and soul, into his
matter, however trite or uninteresting it may be in itself.
No man can talk so as to enchain the attention of his
pupils, or make any permanent impression, if he reads his
lecture. He is as one tied hand and foot, deprived of mo-
tion and power of expression. I can imagine no more
painful situation.

It is a difficult matter for a man to form a just estimate
of himself as a lectiirer. Indeed, it may savor of vanity
even to make the effort. I have, however, now been a
teacher for upwards of a third of a century, so that I may
reasonably be excused if I speak of myself in this connec-
tion. One evidence of my success as a teacher is that I
have been a professor in not less than five medical schools,
and that I had calls to nearly as many more. If enthusi-

i6o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

asm constitutes one of the qualities of a successful lecturer,
then I must have been successful, for I certainly have
possessed this attribute in a very high degree ; and I think
I may truly affirm that I never went before my class without
a thorough comprehension of my subject, or without pre-
vious study and meditation. In this way I always felt
fresh, well booked up in regard to the latest additions
and improvements. Order and system were among my
more important attributes as a teacher. I never failed
to begin at the first round of the ladder, and to go on
gradually ascending until I reached the top. If a man
has neither order nor system, he knows nothing of the
duties of a teacher. They are essential elements in every
discourse. But a person may have both, and yet be a dull
fellow. Of this I think no one could ever accuse me. A
lecturer is, of course, not always equal to himself. The
fleetest horse sometimes ' ' lets dov/n, ' ' or comes out last.
A certain amount of animation is indispensable to a
teacher. He must be excited ; he must show that he feels
an interest in what he says and does. He must be fully
alive. If he is dull or stupid, his pupils will feel the
effect, and sink into listless indifference. I have some-
times thought that I am too boisterous and too excited ;
but this I cannot help ; I must feel what I say, or I
cannot proceed. I like to look my pupils in the face, to
shake my fist at them, and to stamp my foot, as General
Jackson did when he wanted to be emphatic and swore
"by the Eternal," in order to impress upon their minds
their duty, as students of a great, noble, and exalted pro-
fession. Rufus Choate was never more earnest in address-
ing a court and jury than I have often been in speaking to
my class on questions of great and vital importance of a
professional character. Who would not, inspired by the
occasion, be eloquent when he is addressing himself to a
body of ingenuous students, in quest of knowledge designed
to heal the sick, to open the eyes of the blind, to make the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. i6i

deaf hear, to enable the lame to walk, and to loose the
tongue of the dumb ? I never enter the lecture-room with-
out a deep sense of the responsibility of my office — without
a feeling that I have a solemn duty to perform — and that
upon what I may utter during the hour may depend the
happiness or misery of hundreds, if not thousands, of
human beings.

The opening portion of my course on Surgery has always
been devoted to the discussion of principles, without a
knowledge of which no student can possibly make any
true progress. Not fewer than seven weeks have usually
been given to this object, the topics embraced in it being
inflammation and its consequences, syphilis, struma, tu-
mors, and wounds. These topics being disposed of, I then
lectured upon the diseases and injuries of particular re-
gions, organs, and tissues, rapidly discussing each subject
as it came up in proper order ; so that by the end of the
session the course may be said to have generally been a
complete one. I never dealt in hypothesis, conjecture,
or speculation. My plan has alwa3's been to confine my-
self as much as possible to matters of fact, and to make
whatever I said my own, as if it were the result of my
own experience, reading, and reflection. I am convinced
that any teaching that does not rest upon such a basis is
worthless.

Many teachers, American as well as European, think
that they have done all that duty requires of them when
they have instructed their pupils in practical and oper-
ative surgery. The principles of surgery are the prin-
ciples of medicine, or, in other words, the principles of
the art of healing, and therefore, unless a practitioner is
fully acquainted with them, he is utterly unfit for his busi-
ness. Most physicians and surgeons, for this very reason,
are routinists. They leave the lecture-room with the
merest modicum of information, which is never improved
by subsequent training, observation, reading, or reflection.

1 62 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

When I die I wish no better epitaph than this — "A teacher
of Principles."

A part of the first lecture of my course has always been
employed in la}-ing down a general plan of it, with an ac-
count of text-books, and the manner in which the student
should deport himself in the amphitheatre. I never failed
to lay down, distinctly and emphatically, my rules upon
this subject, so that the class should fully comprehend my
wishes. Punctuality, erect posture, and perfect silence
were indispensable conditions. I never tolerated irregu-
larity of any kind, lying down upon the benches, whisper-
ing, reading of letters, going out before the hour was over,
or entering after the lecture had commenced. The class,
in consequence of this precaution, was always most orderly,
respectful, and attentive. The discipline of my room was
perfect, and it was therefore a very uncommon thing for
me to be obliged to rebuke a student. Claptrap of any
kind I never could bear. Nothing was more offensive to
me than applause as I entered the amphitheatre, and I
never permitted it after the first lecture. I always said,
"Gentlemen, such a noise is more befitting the pit of
a theatre or a circus than a temple dedicated, not to ^scu-
lapius, but to Almighty God, for the study of disease and
accident, and your preparation for the great duties of your
profession. There is something awfully solemn in a pro-
fession which deals with life and death ; and I desire at the
very threshold of this course of lectures to impress upon
your minds its sacred and responsible character, that you
may be induced to make the best possible use of your time,
and conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the dignity
of Christian gentlemen."

Such appeals had always a most salutary effect ; and,
although I was a rigid disciplinarian, I am quite sure
that I always enjoyed the esteem and affection of every
member of my class. A teacher who cannot command
the respect and attention of his pupils has no business

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 163

in the lecture-room ; he is out of place, and the sooner he
quits the better.

This practice of applauding must have been borrowed
from the stage. Henderson was wont to say that no actor
could perform well unless he was systematically flattered
both on and off the stage ; and it is reported of Liston that
he considered applause so necessar}'^ to good acting that he
liked to see even a small dog wag his tail in approbation
of his efforts.

The first element in the art of teachingr is a thorough
knowledge of one's subject, a complete mastery of what
one is obliged to talk about ; the next, the faculty of pre-
senting it in a clear, agreeable, and satisfactory man-
ner ; and the third, the ability to keep alive the atten-
tion of one's audience. The last is often materially aided
by the recital of an appropriate anecdote, or an illustrative
case. In the former I never indulged much, and I have
especially had a contempt for vulgar anecdotes, of which
some teachers make such free use, and which are always
out of place. Cases illustrative of particular points of
practice never fail, if well told, to make a good impres-
sion, and are often more effective than the most inte-
resting anecdotes. A lecturer is of no account unless
he can move as well as instruct his pupils. If he can-
not do this, much of his teaching must fall by the way-
side upon barren soil.

A teacher should be neat in his habits, dress, and ad-
dress before his class, choice in the selection of his lan-
guage, and thoroughly systematic in the discussion of his
topics. Slovenliness of mind and body has a demor-
alizing effect, and cannot therefore be too pointedly con-
demned. Dr. Charles D. Aleigs, one of my colleagues, for
many years Professor of INIidwifery in the Jefferson Medical
College, was one of the most attractive and charming of
teachers, but rarely, if ever, systematic. George McClel-
lan, the founder of the school, was always brilliant, always

1 64 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

interesting and instructive, but, like Meigs, superficial
and scattering, apparently without any definite aim, fore-
thought, or preparation. Drake was a great lecturer ;
but unfortunate with first course students, who could never
follow or understand him, because he always overshot his
mark, not having the faculty of adapting himself to their
comprehension. Some lecturers are learned dunces. They
think they must give an account of the opinions of every-
body that ever wrote upon the subject they are discussing,
perhaps omitting their own, and in this way they are sure
to fall far short of being successful and agxeeable teachers.
I have heard of a certain professor of surgery in a neigh-
boring city who entertained his class four times a week,
for nearly two months, with an account of the different
operations for stone in the bladder, a subject which should
never occupy more than three lectures at the utmost in a
didactic course, such as we are restricted to in this country.
Dr. Short, the Professor of Materia Medica in the Univer-
sity of Louisville, a most amiable and excellent man, and
a most accomplished botanist, always read his lectures,
and, if he had occasion to extemporize, even for a moment,
he invariably raised his eyes over the heads of the class,
never, owing to some peculiar habit, or rather what may
be called sheepish modesty, looking them in the face.
Charles Caldwell, a man of noble presence and pedantic
style, was a model of a lecturer, walking to and fro upon
the rostrum like a caged lion. He had practised oratory
before the mirror, possessed fine powers of elocution, and
had a mind well stored with professional and general in-
formation ; and yet I doubt that he ever made a physi-
ologist of any of his pupils. He was a declaimer, a
speculator, not up to the existing state of the science,
notwithstanding his learning, and he was therefore a
miserable teacher. Dr. John Esten Cooke always lectured
on his fingers. Meigs never talked so well to his class as
when he was swinging his spectacles in his hand.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 165

Eccentricity sometimes adds interest to a lecturer. Aber-
nethy always lectured with his hands deeply buried in his
breeches' pockets. McClellan could never talk without
having hold of his watch-chain, or some other object, per-
haps a knife or pair of scissors, much to the horror of the
occupants of the first row of benches. William P. C.
Barton was a coxcomb. He generally appeared before his
class with two vests of different colors, which he never
wore on two consecutive days, notwithstanding his pov-
erty. A contemptuous smile, or curl of the upper lip,
was one of his constant concomitants. He was always
facetious, and generally interesting.

Dewees, an authoritative teacher, and a practitioner who
delivered upwards of ten thousand women, was the type
of an unrefined lecturer, abounding in coarse anecdotes
and sayings which often disgusted the more cultivated
members of his class ; and yet he was a most successful
instructor, every student swearing by him, for he was un-
sparing in his criticisms of the doctrines and practice of
his predecessors and contemporaries, and most dogmatical
in the assertion of his own views and opinions. He was
by far the most positive teacher and writer on mid-
wifery in his day in this countr>\ He always lectured in
the afternoon, after dinner, often, it was said, under the
influence of vinous potations.

The dogmatic teacher is, in the main, the most suc-
cessful teacher, the one most likely to impress himself
effectually and indelibly upon the minds of young medical
students. We like to listen to a man who speaks as if
he were thoroughly saturated with his subject, as if there
were no doubt of the truth of what he was uttering, as if
he himself fully believed in the power and efficacy of what
he is trying to instil into the brains of his auditors. No
teacher ever caused a more profound sensation than Para-
celsus when, seated in his chair at Basle, he deliberately
burnt the works of his predecessors, sending their very

1 66 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

ashes, as it were, to the infernal regions. The students
stared, and the medical world was taken aback, as the
news spread over Europe, carrying the fame of the eccen-
tric professor into every nook and corner of the civilized
world. It was an act most cunningly conceived and exe-
cuted, and well calculated to arrest the attention, not only
of medical men, but of mankind at large. Like Byron,
Paracelsus woke up in the morning and found himself
famous. If Dewees did not commit to flame the writings
of his predecessors and contemporaries, he scorched them
with the fire of his criticism and his sarcasm, and thus
doomed them to a worse fate.

An Irishman's brogue has often made his fortune. His
lisp and Scotch accent made Granville Sharp Pattison
one of the most interesting lecturers of his day. Few
men, in any age or country^, ever enjoyed such widespread
popularity as teachers of anatomy as this distinguished
Scotchman, for one winter my colleague in the New York
University. His lisp, his accent, his enthusiasm were
irresistible. I have myself never entirely surmounted my
German accent. I presume that it is at times very con-
spicuous in the lecture-room ; but I have it also in ordi-
nary conversation, so much so that when I visited Edin-
burgh, in 1869, Simpson, Syme, and others insisted upon
it that I was a Scotchman. No man, perhaps, with any pre-
tension to refinement and education ever had the Scotch
accent in a more extraordinary degree than Dr. Chalmers.
When the celebrated Edinburgh divine for the first time vis-
ited England he called upon Southey, who nearly fell into
fits when Chalmers uttered the word "saxtain" for sixteen.
The Lake poet, unaccustomed to such a horrible mutilation
of the English language, was almost mortally shocked.
He, however, speedily recovered from his depression ; for
when a few days after this event he heard Chalmers
preach, he was so profoundly and so agreeably impressed
by his eloquence and logic that he readily pardoned his

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 167

barbarous pronunciation. He had never before listened
to such pulpit oratory and enthusiasm.

A good, clear, resonant, well-modulated voice is a great
lever in a lecture-room, which seldom fails to command
attention. I have known a number of teachers to fail
because of their feeble voice. The object of the student
is to learn ; but how can he understand what is said unless
the teacher has sufficient vocal powder to make himself
heard over the entire lecture-room? Slow and rapid
speaking are both bad ; the one fatigues and invariably
causes drowsiness, the other overwhelms and confuses the
listener. Few men can catch the happy medium ; and
thoroughly successful and agreeable teachers are, and
always will be, scarce. Dunglison was always brimful of
his subject as he stood before his class, but he was monot-
onous, and did not sufficiently emphasize the great points
of his discourse. To make himself impressive a lecturer
must constantly italicize, and not unfrequently bring down
his fist, to give force to his utterance.

Many of our professors are slow of speech, mumbling
or muttering their words, and thus failing to make them-
selves heard and felt by their pupils. To such men, whom
God never intended for such positions, the language of the
great Hebrew legislator is eminently applicable : " O my
Lord," said Moses, "I am not eloquent, neither heretofore,
nor since thou hast spoken unto thy servant ; but I am
slow of speech, and of a slow tongue." But these men
differ from Moses in this, that while he was, by the
special favor of Jehovah, assisted by his brother Aaron
as his spokesman, and was himself deputed to perform
miracles, they proceed in a stammering, halting, hesi-
tating way all their lives, much to the detriment of their
auditors.

Many teachers lecture well in a conversational style — a
style which I have myself never fancied, and which is only
effective when it is associated with a good, strong voice

i68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and commanding presence, such as are combined, for ex-
ample, in Wendell Phillips. The most noisy and earnest
lecturer I have ever listened to was Dr. Drake, and he cer-
tainlv was one of the most interesting- and fascinatinof men
in the presence of students whom I have ever heard. A
good voice in a lecturer is to a medical class what the
spur is to a rider, or a whip to a driver, calculated to keep
alive the attention of the student and to goad on the weary-
animal. Drake's manner always reminded me of that
of an old Methodist preacher whom I was wont to hear
when I was a youth, and who seemed as if he were
wrestling with the Lord for a special blessing upon his
people. I, too, have been an earnest teacher, and I doubt
whether any one, as he stood before a medical class, felt
more keenly than myself the importance of what he was
saying and doing.

There is a wide difference between a good lecturer and
a good teacher. The distinction is important, but not
always well understood or clearly defined. A man may
talk well, and express himself in the most elegant and
scholarly manner, and yet may fail to impart his know-
ledge. The art of teaching is a peculiar one, not, like
poetry, exactly a gift of nature, and yet so nearly approxi-
mating it as to be almost equivalent to it.

Professor Samuel Jackson, of the University of Pennsyl-
vania, was an excellent talker but a most uninstructive
teacher, "pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw,"
and upsetting to-morrow the doctrines that he expounded
the day before. Dr. John Esten Cooke, on the contrary,
who was for many years Caldwell's colleague, made numer-
ous converts to his doctrines and exercised a widespread
influence over the minds of his pupils, although he was one
of the dullest and most arid lecturers that could possibly be
imagined. He was a successful teacher. The seed which
he put in the earth sprang up and produced abundant
fruit — unfortunately, however, not of the best character.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 169

My knowledge of pathological anatomy, acquired in
early life, has been of immense benefit to me as a
teacher, a practitioner, and a writer, and it is only sur-
prising to me that there are so few practitioners in this
country who have taken advantage of this study. I do not
believe that I have ever delivered a lecture on surgery in
which I did not freely avail myself of my knowledge of it
as a means of illustrating every subject that I had occasion
to discuss. A knowledge of pathological anatomy is the
very basis of diagnosis ; and when it is considered how
important it is that a physician should be able to deter-
mine the nature of a disease before he institutes his treat-
ment, it is not a little surprising that this department of
medicine should be taught in so few of our schools. This
omission is one of the crving sins of the present day.
Ever^'thing, however irrelevant or useless, is taught to
the exclusion of morbid anatomy. I only wish that
every medical college in the country were compelled
to introduce it into its curriculum of studies. To make
room for it we niig-ht well dispense with some of the use-

o J.

less teachings in chemistry, materia medica, physiology,
and even midwifery-, so characteristic of the present day.

It takes many elements to make a great man, many to
make a great teacher, writer, and practitioner; and there
are few persons in whom these elements are so hap-
pily blended as to work out the desired result. Great
genius is not by any means a necessar}' ingredient of these
qualities. To accomplish great ends demands patience,
perseverance, unwearying application, order and system,
and a definite aim — in a word, talent rather than genius.
Genius invents ; talent applies. The only genius I pos-
sess is the genius of industry ; if I have any other, I have
not been able to discover it. The position which I have
attained in my profession has been achieved by hard
blows, by no special intellectual endowment, by no spe-
cial gifts from God, by no special favor from man, but

170

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

by my own unaided efforts, continued steadily and per-
severingly through a long series of years, during which
a kind Providence afforded me sound health, lofty ambi-
tion, and unflinching fidelity to my profession.

From the day on which I received my diploma, a
period of forty-two years, I have been a most laborious
and devoted student, true to the best interests of the
profession, and one of the most faithful supporters of
its honor, dignity, and advancement. My mind has ever
been on the alert to gather information from every avail-
able source. I have been an incessant reader, and, I be-
lieve, not altogether a bad observ^er of nature. I have
witnessed all kinds of diseases and injuries, have tried
numerous remedies, and have performed many operations.
]\Iy voice has often been raised in favor of progress. I
have seen many abuses in my profession, and have passed
through several revolutions of treatment, in which certain
articles of the materia medica, at one time considered as
most valuable and efficacious, have been abandoned as
worthless, if not positively injurious ; and yet, through all
these changes, so singular in their character, I have never,
I think I am safe in asserting, lost sight of common sense
or the results of an enlightened personal and general
experience.

Although I had a great fondness for surgery, my prac-
tice in the early part of my life was chiefly medical.
The operations which I performed were few in num-
ber; nor were they of much importance until the latter
period of my residence at Cincinnati, and during my
residence at Louisville, when my reputation as an opera-
tive surgeon rapidly increased, and patients visited me
from various sections of the country for relief

I do not know that nature ever intended me for a
great surgeon. I was the victim of a native timidity
which was certainly at variance with such an assumption.
The sight of blood was extremely disagreeable to me — so

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 171

much so that on one occasion during the early period of
my pupilage, while holding a basin for a fellow-student
engaged in bleeding a patient, I came so near fainting
that, if I had not abandoned my hold and sought refuge
in the open air, I would, I am sure, have dropped down in
a state of unconsciousness. It was some time before I
could get rid of this feeling, and look with composure
upon a surgical operation. Even -now, after having per-
formed thousands of operations, and spilled gallons of
blood, I seldom feel comfortable as a looker-on at a great
and protracted feat of this kind, however skilfully exe-
cuted. I am naturally sensitive and sympathetic, and
would rather at any time use the knife myself than see it
used by another. In the one case I forget myself in the
discharge of my duties, while in the other case my mind is
absorbed in what concerns the poor sufferer. I recollect,
when I was a boy not quite six years old, nearly fainting
at the sight of the struggles of a sparrow which I had
knocked down vv^ith a piece of corn-cob in my father's
yard. I thought I had certainly killed the poor bird, and
it was not until it recovered from the shock of the blow,
and flew away, that I recovered my wonted equanimity.

Surgeons are often accused of being hard-hearted and
unfeeling. My experience is that this is a great slander,
entirely without truth. There are of course exceptions to
all rules ; but I am quite sure that the most skilful and ac-
complished surgeons in the world are men of the keenest
sensibilities and the warmest sympathies. I never hear
the word "butcher" applied to an operator without in-
stantly resenting it. I recollect at one of my college
clinics that a stout, tall Amazon made a remark of this
kind, as she was handing her child to one of my assist-
ants, preparatory to the performance of an operation. I
instantly fixed my eyes upon her, and, addressing the
class, said, "Madam, you do not know what you are
saying ; we are only butchers when we have to do with

173

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

such a calf as you are;" and tlien I gave her a severe
lecture upon her conduct, adding that, if she did not in-
stantly retract her language, I should not operate upon her
child.

I have always maintained that it is impossible for any
man to be a great surgeon if he is destitute, even in a con-
siderable degree, of the finer feelings of our nature. I
have often lain awake for hours the night before an impor-
tant operation, and suffered great mental distress for days
after it was over, until I was certain that my patient was
out of danger. I do not think that it is possible for a
criminal to feel much worse the night before his execution
than a surgeon when he knows that upon his skill and at-
tention must depend the fate of a valuable citizen, hus-
band, father, mother, or child. Surgery under such cir-
cumstances is a terrible taskmaster, feeding like a vulture
upon a man's vitals. It is surprising that any surgeon in
large practice should ever attain to a respectable old age,
so great are the wear and tear of mind and body.

The world has seen many a sad picture. I will draw
one of the surgeon. It is midday ; the sun is bright and
beautiful ; all nature is redolent of joy ; men and women
crowd the street, arrayed in their best, and all, appar-
ently, is peace and happiness within and without. In a
large house, almost overhanging this street so full of life
and gayety, lies upon a couch an emaciated figure, once
one of the sweetest and loveliest of her sex, a confiding and
affectionate wife, and the adored mother of numerous chil-
dren, the subject of a frightful disease of one of her limbs,
or, it may be, of her jaw, if not of a still more important
part of her body. In an adjoining room is the surgeon,
with his assistants, spreading out his instruments and get-
ting things in readiness for the impending operation. He
assigns to each his appropriate place. One administers
chloroform ; another takes charge of the limb ; one screws
down the tourniquet upon the principal artery; and an-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 173

other holds himself in readiness to follow the knife with
his sponge. The flaps are soon formed, the bone severed,
the vessels tied, and the huge wound approximated. The
woman is pale and ghastly, the pulse hardly perceptible,
the skin wet with clammy perspiration, the voice husky,
the sight indistinct. Some one whispers into the ear of
the busy surgeon, "The patient, I fear, is dying." Re-
storatives are administered, the pulse gradually rises, and
after a few hours of hard work and terrible anxiety reaction
occurs. The poor woman was only faint from the joint
influence of the anaesthetic, shock, and loss of blood. An
assistant, a kind of sentinel, is placed as a guard over her,
with instructions to watch her with the closest care, and
to send word the moment the slightest change for the worse
is perceived. The surgeon goes about his business, visitj^
other patients on the way, and at length, long after
the usual hour, he sits down, worried and exhausted, to
his cold and comfortless meal, with a mouth almost as dr)*
and a voice as husky as his patient's. He eats mechani-
cally, exchanges hardly a word with any member of his
family, and sullenly retires to his study, to prescribe
for his patients — never, during all this time, forgetting
the poor mutilated object he left a few hours ago. He
is about to lie down to get a moment's repose after
the severe toil of the day, when suddenly he hears a
loud ring of the bell, and a servant, breathless with
excitement, begs his immediate presence at the sick

chamber, with the exclamation, "They think Mrs.

is dying." He hurries to the scene with rapid pace and
anxious feeling. The stump is of a crimson color, and
the patient lies in a profound swoon. An artery has sud-
denly given way ; the exhaustion is extreme ; cordials and
stimulants are at once brought into requisition, the dress-
ings are removed ; and the recusant vessel is promptly
secured. The vital current ebbs and flows, reaction is
still more tardy than before, and it is not until a late hour

174

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of the night that the surgeon, literally worn out in mind
and body, retires to his home in search of repose. Does
he sleep? He tries, but he cannot close his eyes. His
mind is with his patient ; he hears every footstep upon
the pavement under his window, and is in momentary
expectation of the ringing of the night-bell. He is dis-
turbed by the wildest fancies, he sees the most terrific
objects, and, as he rises early in the morning to hasten to
his patient's chamber, he feels that he has been cheated
of the rest of which he stood so much in need. Is this
picture overdrawn? I have sat for it a thousand times,
and there is not an educated, conscientious surgeon that
will not certify to its accuracy.

The terrible anxiety, the utter wretchedness, thus faintly
depicted, often last, not merely for a night or a day, but
for weeks, and even then the surgeon is not always re-
warded with success. What other profession or pursuit is
there that involves so much mental anguish, so much
awful responsibility, so much wear and tear of mind and
body? The physician and obstetrician certainly have
their trials, and many sad and even bitter ones, but com-
pared with those of the surgeon they are comparatively
insignificant. The siirgeon, like them, not only fre-
quently necessarily loses his patient, but his patient, if in
case of accident he should survive, is often literally a living
monument of the surgeon's disgrace in consequence of
his miitilated condition — a condition not seldom unjustly
attributed to the attendant, although, unfortunately, only
too often ascribed to him. The physician, on the con-
trary, either hides his bad skill in the grave, or, if his
patient survive, no matter how crippled he may be, no
blame is ascribed to the treatment. The hepatized lung
does not, like the anchylosed joint or deformed limb, ob-
trude itself at every step upon the eye of the observer.

Although I have now practised surgery largely for up-
wards of a third of a centur>^, and have earned some repu-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 175

tation in it, I have always thought myself a better physi-
cian than surgeon. ]\Iy reasons for this conclusion are
simply these : first, I had for many years an immense
family practice, which necessarily brought me in contact
with almost ever>' variety of disease, common, specific,
endemic, and epidemic ; secondly, I was well acquainted
with pathological anatomy and diagnosis, including auscul-
tation and percussion ; and, lastly, I have had an excellent
knowledge of remedies and the requirements of the sick-
room. A large share of my consultation business in
Philadelphia, Louisville, and Cincinnati has been of a
strictly medical character.

Of midwifer}', practically speaking, I have never been
fond, although I was at one time largeh- engaged in it in
connection with family practice. As far as my recollec-
tion now ser\'es me I have never lost but one woman by
puerperal fever ; and I never had occasion to apply
the forceps in any cases originally under my care, a
practice at present so disgracefully common as to be in
danger of becoming, ere long, the rule instead of the rare
exception, as it used to be in my early professional life.
Stout, hale, young women, especially primiparae, were
generally bled early in labor ; and this practice, along
with the use of opiates, generally rendered the use of the
forceps unnecessary, as under the influence of those rem-
edies the parts usually became rapidly relaxed. Lacera-
tions of the perineum were uncommon in those da^'s.

Persons have often come to me saying they had under-
stood that I was ver>' fond of using the knife. Such
stories are frequently propagated from selfish considera-
tions by designing confreres, and the weak and credulous
are only too prone to credit them. As for myself, nothing
could be more untrue, or more unjust. I have never hesi-
tated to employ the knife when I thought it was impera-
tively demanded to relieve or cure my patient ; but that I
have ever operated merely for the sake of display or the

176 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

gratification of a selfish end is as base as it is false. I have
always had too much respect for human life, for my
profession, and for my own dignity, to be guilty of such
an outrage. No man ever had a greater or more unmit-
igated contempt for the knife' s-man, or mere mechanical
surgeon and operator, than I, and I have never hesitated,
in season and out of season, to denounce him in the most
unmeasured terms.

I have performed many operations, and flatter myself
that I possess at least some of the qualities of a good
operator — a steady hand, an unflinching eye, perfect self-
control, and a thorough knowledge of relative anatomy.
I have rarely failed to accomplish what I had set out to do.
The sight of blood, as I have said, was very disagreeable
to me in early life ; but it never appalled me in any of my
great operations, and I do not believe that I ever trembled
three times in my life when I had a knife in my hand.
My hand and eye, so thoroughly trained in pitching quoits
and pennies and practising with the bow and arrow in
early boyhood, never failed me. I believe that I was
always a safe operator, and if I ever committed any great
mistake I am not aw^are of it. My knife was always
guided by a thorough knowledge of the case, and, I have
reason to believe, by sound judgment, strengthened and
sobered by the light of experience and the dictates of com-
mon sense. I can say what few men, extensively engaged
in practice, can say: "I have never lost a patient upon
the table from shock or loss of blood. ' '

It has been generally supposed, from the fact that I am a
rather voluminous author, that I am fond of writing. Noth-
ing is more true, and I should be very ungrateful if I
denied it. Not only am I fond of writing, but writing has
been one of the greatest solaces of my life. Many of my
happiest days and nights have been spent with my pen,
in the silence of my study, dead as it were to all the world
around me, only enlivened by my own thoughts and re-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 177

flections, in the midst of my books, the silent companions
of my lonely hours, and the witnesses of my earnest eflforts
to contribute something that might be worthy of my pro-
fession.

I became a writer early in my professional life. I had
hardly received my degree before, as I have said else-
where, I began to translate French and German medical
books, working generally, even at that early period, from
six to eight hours a day at my task. Writing was not, at
first, ver>' agreeable to me. I composed with difficulty,
and it was not until after much experience and great care
that I at length overcame the obstacles which stood in mv
way to the attainment of a style which satisfied me. The
art of composition can only be acquired by much effort and
long practice, although with some persons it seems a nat-
ural gift. Let those who fancy that writing is an easy task
read the anecdote of the visit of Lady Morgan to Rossini.
' ' Ah, ' ' says she, ' ' I have found you in a moment of in-
spiration. " " You have ; but this inspiration is thun-
dering hard work."

In my earlier writings I was in the habit of doing a
great deal of interlining and copying ; but during the last
twenty years I have seldom rewritten anything, generally
trusting to the original draught. ]\Iy style has always
been characterized by simplicity ; I have never been
ambitious of ornament ; my sole object has been to ex-
press myself in clear, intelligible language, adapted to
the comprehension of the dullest intellect ; and in this
I believe I have generally succeeded. Indeed, medical
writing does not need much display or embellishment.
Medicine is a science of facts, which disdains all poet-
ical license and meretricious ornament.

The only way to write well is to be thoroughly acquainted
with one's subject. My invariable plan has been to out-
line my material beforehand, dividing and subdividing it in
the most minute and thorough manner, and then to fill up,

1—23

178 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

at my leisure, the groundwork thus sketched. In this way
the task has been a comparatively easy and pleasant one.
A large proportion of my w^orks was composed in my car-
riage. My custom, when I was engaged upon a book, was
to map out a certain amount of labor for the day ; I would
then jump into my buggy to attend to my morning
rounds, and, while going from house to house, revolve the
subject in my mind, amplifying and arranging it in proper,
systematic order, and then, at the first leisure moment,
sit down and commit it to paper. In this way I was not
only never idle, but was able daily to perform a vast
amount of useful labor. The exercise which I thus took
on the streets was conducive to my health and vigor of
intellect. I seldom allowed anything, unless it was more
than ordinarily interesting, to distract my attention, and,
on the other hand, I never in all my life neglected a pa-
tient in consequence of this mode of occupation. I have
always been too conscientious knowingly to omit the per-
formance of a single duty of any kind. *

In writing my books my practice has been to take up
first such subjects as I was most familiar with, and in this
way I often wrote the last chapters before the first. This,
I think, is an excellent plan, calculated to facilitate pro-
gress, and enhance the pleasures of composition. A
builder must necessarily begin at the foundation, and
gradually proceed upwards. With an author it is different,
especially when, as in the medical profession, the subjects
are often independent one of another, and can therefore
be worked out separately. The mind requires variety.

* I lately — 1883 — read a sketch of Charles Wesley, the celebrated Methodist
divine, an author of numerous poems, from which it appears that "he composed
on horseback, in bed, anywhere, on every occasion, and wrote his compositions
as soon as he could get pen and paper." I have myself not unfrequently got out
of bed at night to write a thought or sentiment that had occurred to me in a
semi-dozing condition. A dream has sometimes served to solve an intricate
mathematical problem, one that could not be solved in the waking state by the
most powerful efforts of the mind.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 179

To labor incessantly upon any one topic soon blunts one's
ardor, and greatly retards one's progress.

Hazlitt, in speaking of the evanescent glor}- of a player's
life, obser\^es : ' ' When an author dies it is no matter, for
his works remain. When a great actor dies there is a
void produced in society, a gap which requires to be
filled up." The works remain ! Where? Upon the shelf,
in the dusty library, enveloped in cobwebs, or, as not un-
frequently happens at the present day, they are sold to
the ragman, as waste paper. Few works outlive their
authors, or are handed down to posterity, as great reposi-
tories of learning, as fountains of knowledge, at which
future generations may slake their thirst for information.
A representative book, especially in the medical profes-
sion, is a rare production. Only a very few escape general
oblivion, or they serve as milestones in after ages of
the state of the science of which they treat. The author,
like the poor player, whose fate is so sympathetically ex-
pressed by Shakespeare,

" Struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more."

This death of an author's works before his own demise
is almost as sad a doom as that which a parent is some-
times subjected to when he is obliged to witness the death
of his own children, as one after another sinks prematurely
into the grave, especially when his darling Benjamin, upon
whose shoulders he had fondly expected to glide down to
posterity by covering him with his mantle, is taken from
him.

CHAPTER VII.

MY HABITS — YOUTH, MANHOOD, AND OLD AGE — LETTERS AND CORRESPOND-
ENCE— TESTIMONLVLS FOR PATENT MEDICINES — PUPILS — TRIALS — POSITION —
RELIGION — CREMATION — MODES OF DEATH — MEDICINE — CLASSICS — LABORS
APART FROM AUTHORSHIP.

Every man has certain habits which are either peculiar
to himself, or which he shares in common with his fellow-
beings. Lord Chesterfield has said of himself that he
never laughed after he became a man of common sense,
evidently considering it rude and vulgar to give vent to his
feelings in such a manner. All the world knows that he
prided himself upon his good breeding, and yet in thus
suppressing his feelings he was guilty of violating one of
the natural laws of God. Of all animals man is the only
one endowed with this prerogative, and it requires no ar-
gument to show that its proper indulgence in nowise dero-
gates from his dignity. On the contrary, I have always
myself enjoyed a good hearty laugh. "Laugh and grow
fat" is an old proverb. Physick was hardly ever known
to smile, much less to laugh, and yet it has been said by
those who best knew him that he was, notwithstanding
his austere appearance and dignified deportment, a man of
very kindly feeling. He was naturally a man of few
words, who scrupulously shunned society and all places of
amusement, and was long the subject of bodily suffering,
well calculated to spoil the best temper in the world. It
is reported of him that, being asked on one occasion by
Dr. Dewees, who was fond of gayety and fun, whether he
would not go with him to the theatre to see a certain actor,
he replied, "No; it will not do for men occupying our
position to be seen at such a place. We must not make
igo

A UTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. i8i

ourselves so common," It is said even the devil laughs,
and I am sure he would have few converts if he did not.

I believe I was constitutionally lazy, and I am not sure
that indolence is not the normal condition of our nature.
However this may be, I was very fond, as a boy, of sleep-
ing late in the morning, and as I was somewhat of a
favorite with my father I was often indulged until a late
hour, long after all the other children were up. After my
father^s death, however, I acquired better habits, and be-
came an early riser, a habit which has continued w4th me
ever since. From six to half past six has been my usual
time of rising for the last forty years, and I have seldom
retired later than eleven to half past eleven, unless I was
professionally engaged, out at a party, or intensely occu-
pied in writing, when I sometimes, although rarely, en-
croached upon the early hours of the morning. My system
has generally required from six and a half to seven hours'
sleep. No man who wishes to live well or long should
rob himself of his rest at night. Even if he cannot sleep,
it is a great comfort to be able to stretch himself out upon
his bed to relax his wearied muscles and his excited brain.
Humboldt, the author of Cosmos, who was not a great
sleeper, delighted to lie in bed for the sake merely of the
pleasures of recumbency, and a man who can indulge in
such a luxury deserves to be envied, for I am sure it must
conduce not only to his happiness, but to the extension of
his life.

I am one of those fortunate beings who can sleep any-
where, or almost in any posture. I verily believe I could,
if at all fatigued, sleep soundly in the fiercest battle, amid
the roar of cannon and the most terrible excitement. One
of my habits for many years has been to take a short nap
— from ten to fifteen minutes — upon my chair, on coming
in from my morning rounds, while waiting for my dinner,
and I know of nothing more refreshing and invigorating.
The sleep thus obtained is a thousand times more salutary

1 82 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and sustaining than a dozen post-prandial naps, which
generally leave the brain in a dull, stupid condition, unfit
for active mental exertion during the rest of the day and
evening.

A man is doubly fortunate if, when he retires at night,
he can throw aside his business and compose himself to
rest. In the medical profession this cannot always be
done. The responsibility of our cases will not permit it.
Like Banquo's ghost, they stalk into our presence, and
even harass us in our dreams. I have spent many an un-
comfortable night from this cause. When engaged in
writing intensely, or studying out an important subject, I
have occasionally been similarly annoyed ; but commonly
I have been able to shake off the matter from my mind,
especially if I took a short walk before retiring, and thus
obtained the necessary amount of refreshing sleep. Habit
is a curious thing. As a physician and a surgeon I have
often been obliged to visit patients in the country, compel-
ling me to start early in the morning. Under such cir-
cumstances I have never been obliged to request anybody
to wake me. On the contrary, I was always up in advance
of time. I never missed a coach or train in my life in
consequence.

For many years I have had few holidays, few days of pos-
itive relaxation and freedom of mind and body, and have
alwa^'s been unhappy when not actively or usefully em-
ployed. The grave is the only place where a man, bent
upon the performance of good deeds, should seek repose.
"Why don't you sometimes rest?" said a friend to Ar-
nauld. "Rest! Why should I rest here ? Haven't I an
eternity to rest in ?"

Regularity at one's meals is a source of great comfort,
and not a little conducive to longevity. Much of the good
health with which I have been blessed has been due to
this cause. No man since the days of Adam and Eve has
been more particular in this respect than myself. I have

SAMUEL n. GROSS, M.D. 183

seldom, except when from home on a visit to a patient, or
when dining out, taken a meal out of my own house, and
I have the more carefully observed this, conduct because it
has seldom been in my power to meet my family at any
other time. ?vly breakfast has always been ser^-ed, for the
last forty years, at eight o'clock, summer and winter, my
dinner at half past two, and my tea at half past seven,
generally with the regularity of the clock. Late suppers
I have always avoided, except when out at parties, when I
never hesitated to indulge moderately, ahvays sleeping
better, and never feeling the worse on account of it the
next day. A gentleman is to be pitied if, on such occa-
sions, he is obliged, on account of his stomach, to fold his
arms and look on the scene in silence. Such an organ is
a great nuisance, only fit to be walked on in the morning,
when empty, for the poor owner's health ! I never drank
wine, brandy, or whiskey until after I was upwards of
twenty-five years of age ; and even now I have a great
aversion to all alcoholic drinks, except now and then a
glass of hot whiskey punch, on a cold night, immediately
before going to bed. The only wine I have really ever had
a fondness for is champagne. In hot weather, for many
years past, I have generally drunk claret, believing that it
was highly beneficial to me. Sauteme and Rhenish wines
are very grateful to me, and it must surely be a cause for
congratulation that the use of these wines has, within the
last ten years, become so common in this countr}'. Of
malt liquors I have never been ver}' fond. Now and then
I have been greatly refreshed by a glass of Scotch ale, and
I have often recommended this drink with great advantage
to my patients, on account of the large quantity of car-
bonic acid gas which it contains, in dyspepsia, asthma, in-
ordinate insomnia, and various affections of the genito-
urinary organs. Champagne, provided it is of superior
quality, is one of the very best, as well as one of the most
grateful remedies in disorders of the digestive organs,

1 84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

whether acute or chronic, attended with flatulence, nausea,
or vomiting. It is, in fact, a drink fit for the gods in such
conditions, gently stimulating, refreshing, and exhila-
rating.

I have always been a hearty but temperate eater, and
have never, in all my life, been intoxicated ; although I
have on several occasions felt the exhilarating influence of
wine. Coffee I was able to drink twice and even three
times a day with impunity until I was thirty-five years of
age. It then produced dyspepsia, with acidity of the
stomach, and I was obliged, notwithstanding my great fond-
ness for it, to abandon its use altogether, employing black
tea as a substitute. I believe, from much observation and
experience, that the constant and inordinate use of coffee
is productive of a great deal of evil, especially in nervous
persons, in whom, I am quite sure, it is a fruitful source
of indigestion, irritability of temper, and loss of sleep.
Black tea as a daily drink is preferable to green, but both
should be used in moderation and in proper season. I
think I may confidently affirm that a cup of good tea is far
better in relieving fatigue and preserving strength, when a
man has to perform an undue amount of mental or ph3-si-
cal laboi, than a glass of wine, whiskey, or brandy. The
British soldiers, both at home and in the Indies, have long
acted upon this principle, and the result of our exj^erience
during our late terrible war was of a similar nature.

A proper mixture of vegetable and animal food is of
great consequence in a dietetic point of view. The vege-
tarians, as they are called, with Graham at their head, are
a singular class of bipeds, of American origin, who have
done the race not a little harm by founding a practice so
utterly at variance with the principles of sound sense and
the laws of our being. Man is an omnivorous animal. It
is impossible to view him in any other light. His teeth,
his digestive apparatus, his appetites, and his wants, not
to say anything of the world's experience, all concur in

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 185

proving this fact. These vegetarians are generally enor-
mous eaters. I knew one of them — a doctor — who
during the peach season daily devoured a peck of that
delicids fruit, and other vegetable matter in proportion !
Re was, of course, as thin as a herring in hot weather.
When Dr. Reuben R. Mussey, a man of no mean reputa-
tion as a surgeon, a follower of Graham, settled at Cincin-
nati, I one day called at his lodgings to pay him my re-
spects. A little chubby-faced boy, probably six or seven
years of age, answered the knocker. Asking whether Dr.
Mussey was within, he threw his face into a ver>' quizzical
shape and said, ' ' Father is not at home. " " You are Dr.
Mussey' s son, are you?" "Yes." "I suppose you are
very fond of meat ?' ' Looking again ver\- quizzically, he
replied, ' ' I like the smell of it. " I thank God most de-
voutly for the happy mixture.

If a man wants to be well, happy, cheerful, and com-
fortable, in the best possible condition for his day's work
and night's rest, as it respects his brain and muscles, he
must eat slowly, masticate his food thoroughl}', and not
crowd his stomach. This organ can bear a great deal,
but there is a point beyond which endurance is impossible.
A little rest after a hearty meal is a good thing, but it is
not every man that can take it. In this countr\^, where
ever}'thing is done in hot haste, where persons become
rich in a day, and poor in an hour, people, especially mer-
chants and mechanics, eat like so many wild beasts, swal-
lowing their food without due mastication, and putting
twice as much into the stomach as they can digest. Is it
be wondered at that we are a nation of dyspeptics, that
we have bad teeth, that we are nervous, irritable, murder-
ous, and short-lived? Festina lente should be the motto
of every man when he sits down to eat. The venerable
Charles Carroll, when asked what means he employed to
preserve his health in such perfect condition, replied, "I
always leave the table hungry ;" and the good Bishop

1—24

1 86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

David, of Kentucky, upon being asked a similar question,
rejoined that he always carried his ph}-sician with him.
Upon being requested to tell who that physician was, he
answered it was " hunger."

The Code of Health of the School of Salernum, founded
in the ninth centun.', comprises some excellent general
rules in regard to the use of food and drink, which should
be more widely disseminated than they have hitherto been.
The elegant translation of this code, recently published by
Dr. Ordronaux, of New York, will no doubt be followed
by very good results in popularizing these rules.

" Without the habit, suppers never suit ;
Shun then strange meals and drinks and fish and fruit,
And frequent revels, of disease the root.
Take wine for health's sake after every course,
And those who can let them this rule enforce.
Drink not when needless ; eat not out of mood ;
For thirst and hunger tonic powers include.
While surfeits bring of direst ills a brood.
Note when you drink, that you may not fall ill ;
Note what you drink ; drink after baths your fill.
'Tis heavy, not light, suppers that give pain,
As common sense and doctors both maintain.
Unless compelled, you never should combine,
At one meal, divers sorts of food or wine ;
But if constrained, then take the lightest cheer;
From wine and milk a lepra will appear.
Routine before and after meals demands
Water, dispensed to wash convivial hands.
With wholesome dishes be all paupers fed ;
Let supper close our calls for daily bread.
Curb appetite and thus prolong your breath —
Temp' ranee, the doctors tell us, laughs at death."

These rules, in the main excellent, are not all unexcep-
tionable. The Salernians were evidently too fond of wine.
Young people should never use wine of any kind, and it

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 187

is equally important that they should abstain from con-
diments, as pepper, mustard, pungent sauces, and hot
dishes, as they unduly excite the appetite, and thus lead
to repletion, indigestion, and bad health. Persons who
are naturally weak, the aged, the infirm, and the over-
worked will be benefited by a glass of generous wine, or
a little whiskey, brandy, or ale, at dinner. A man, as the
Apostle says, should occasionally take a little wine for the
stomach's sake. Water, too freely drunk during, or soon
after, a meal, is bad, as it interferes with healthful diges-
tion. Any severe exercise of mind or body soon after a
full meal is equally prejudicial.

The voice of the stomach should not be disregarded in
eating and drinking. As a general rule, whatever the
stomach craves may be accepted as an indication as to
what is wholesome. There are, of course, enough excep-
tions to prove the rule. Some physicians, otherwise appa-
rently sufficiently wise, are fools in this respect. They
seem to be incapable of interpreting nature, no matter
how loudly or energetically she makes her demands. One
of my daughters had been terribly ill for several weeks ;
she was much exhausted by nausea and vomiting ; ever>'-
thing she took was promptly rejected, and her life was in
imminent peril. I was summoned to her bedside early in
the morning ; she was extremely feeble, and in constant
retching. "Is there nothing that you would like to eat
or drink ? Have you no craving for any particular kind
of food or drink?" " Yes, I have been dying for the last
few days for champagne, but my physicians have obsti-
nately interdicted its use." Her husband was immedi-
ately summoned, a bottle of the much-desired article was
brought to the bedside, and from that moment convales-
cence commenced. This is only a type of a hundred simi-
lar cases in the experience of every enlightened and ob-
servant practitioner. The voice of the stomach, under
such circumstances, is emphatically the voice of God —

l38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the voice of suffering Nature. Some years ago I published
in Dr. YandelPs American Practitioner an elaborate paper
upon the Cravings of Nature in Disease. The subject had
never, as far as I know, been treated of before, but it has
since attracted wide attention. Practically, indeed, it is
a ver>' important one.

When I was a boy I tried hard to learn to smoke and
chew, but after various efforts abandoned the attempt in
disgust, on account of the nauseating effects of tobacco
and the disgusting habit of spitting which its use so gen-
erally engenders. A pinch of snuff is occasionally a good
thing, as it serves to clear a man's brain by the impression
which it exerts through the mucous membrane of the nose
upon the sympathetic nerves. It has always been a source
of surprise to me that a genteel woman could tolerate an
habitual chewer and smoker, and yet I have heard many
ladies declare that the odor of a cigar was more agreeable
to them than the fragrance of a delicious flower. A mouth
covered with tobacco-juice is anything but ornamental.
Of its fragrance I cannot speak from personal observation.

I have all my life, with the exception of my early child-
hood, been a hard, earnest worker. Whatever I had to do
I did with all my might, never putting off till the after-
noon what could be done in the morning, or until to-
morrow the labor of to-day. I always liked to be fully
up to time, or even a little in advance of it. In my pro-
fessional engagements I have been a very strict observer
of punctuality. I have never in my life wilfully made
a professional brother wait for me in a consultation. I
have always considered that no man has a right to rob
another of his time, and therefore, while I have myself
been a most scrupulous respecter of the interests of others,
I have never allowed any one to trifle with my own.

Every man that is a man — that has the slightest preten-
sion to manly qualities — ought to feel that his destiny is
in his own keeping, and that he can hold the world, as it

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 189

were, in his grasp. The brain can perform wonders ; so
can the spade, the pickaxe, and the hammer. Every
human being, even the idiot, has talents that may, if
properly applied, work out useful results. The architect
may display genius and talent in the erection of a house ;
the coachmaker, in the construction of a carriage ; the
cook, in the preparation of his dishes. Ever}' pursuit in
life requires aptitude, and aptitude is nothing but genius
or talent properh/ applied. Neither is worth anything if
unaided by industry and perseverance, along with a defi-
nite aim, or a well-digested ulterior object, to the accom-
plishment of which a man's whole soul must be bent, alike
in his waking and in his sleeping hours.

To owe no man has been one of the great maxims of my
life. It has been an invariable rule with me to pay on the
spot for whatever I buy, or as soon thereafter as possible.
My servants have never been obliged to wait a day for
their wages. Tradespeople have seldom, if ever, been
obliged to present their accounts twice.

Hard work and annoying cases have sometimes rendered
me irritable, and made me occasionally indulge in a hasty
or unguarded expression, for which I was afterwards
sorr}'. Naturally I am of an amiable temper, as prompt
to forgive as to resent an insult. It has fallen to my lot
to have a few enemies ; but they were not made so through
my own agency or conduct. They rose up in consequence
of my position as a professional man, and as a natural
result of a large and diversified practice, which brought
me in contact with all kinds of people — good, bad, and
indifferent. I never spoke ill of a professional brother,
or did anything, directly or indirectly, to undermine his
standing with his patients, the profession, or the public.
On the contrary, I have often gone out of my way to sus-
tain and defend him — sometimes, I fear, when silence
might have been the correct course. I have on several
occasions prevented patients from instituting suits for mal-

190

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

practice against members of the profession ; I saved two of
my own pnpils in this way, and both became afterwards
my enemies.

I occasionally visit the theatre to see a great tragedy or
an interesting comedy, and to get a good laugh, to break
the dull monotony of my life, and to prepare me the better
for new exertion, on the principle of "All work and no
pla}' makes Jack a dull boy." The opera I have never
enjoyed, and have sometimes fallen asleep during the per-
formance, especially if I was much fatigued. The circus
has alwa-s's afforded me genuine amusement. I have at-
tended only three horseraces. I have never witnessed a
cockfight, and have seldom been present at a political
meeting. In politics I have always sided with the can-
didate whom I supposed to be the most honest, and have
consequently seldom voted a full ticket. The first vote I
ever cast Vv^as for General Jackson for the Presidency. I
believed him to be an honest man, and therefore gave him
my suffrage. Immediately before the war I supported Bell
and Everett, and afterwards Mr. Lincoln when he became,
for the second time, a candidate for the Presidency. I was
actuated by the belief that he would do all that any mortal
could do to promote the rapid reconstruction of the rebel-
lious States. His assassination, wdiich took place only a
short time after his inauguration, was a great calamity,
a national evil. He was a good, nay, a great man, governed
by principle and the kindliest feelings of our nature.

I doubt, however, whether he had the slightest concep-
tion of the gigantic character of the war at its commence-
ment. The fact that his proclamation called for only sev-
enty-five thousand volunteers has always satisfied me that
he thought the war would soon be over, and that the
seceded States would rapidly fall back into their places in
the Union. I was greatly disappointed on reading the
proclamation, and obser\^ed at the time to my family that
if the President had had a proper appreciation of the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 191

Southern people and the reasons which induced them to
go to war, he would have called out at the start not less
than five hundred thousand men. Such a call would have
exercised a most powerful influence upon Southern politi-
cians by showing them that the Federal Government was
in earnest to put down the rebellion — to crush it in its
infancy.

Of late years I have frequently remained away from the
polls, having rarely found a candidate whom I regarded as
worthy of a vote. Besides, it is not pleasant to have one's
vote neutralized by a scamp immediately in front of or
behind one.

I have always had a sovereign contempt for doctors
who meddle in politics, and my contempt has hardly been
less keen for men who combine the practice of medicine
with preaching. Politics may well be left to the care of
politicians. A man has quite enough to do when he is a
physician or a preacher, without mixing the two callings.
My motto has always been, Ne siitor ultra crepidam.

I recollect, many years ago, hearing an anecdote of an
old Virginia physician. Dr. Cabbell, who had long been at
enmity with one of these preaching-doctors. The two had
not spoken for many years, when Cabbell one day was
brought home in a state of unconsciousness from having
been pitched head foremost over the neck of his horse.
The preaching-doctor, considering the occasion a favorable
one for a reconciliation, anxiously approached the couch
of the dying man, who by this time had completely re-
gained his senses. ' ' Good-morning, Dr. Cabbell. ' ' Dr.
Cabbell, raising himself off his pillow, exclaimed, "What
the d — 1 brings you here ? Begone ! begone ! I can bear
anything, ever}'thing but a preaching-doctor and a trip-
ping horse." Every honest physician will indorse this
sentiment.

I have always been particular in my friendships. I
have never attached myself to any man of coarse mind,

192 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

rough manners, or bad habits. If I have ever toadied to
anybody, I am not conscious of it. On the contrary, I
have often in my practice made the rich give way to the
poor.

It has been said, not without truth, that youth is a
bkmder, manhood a struggle, and old age a regret. My
life is an exception to this rule. That I was guilty of
some indiscretions in my youth is probable ; but few youths,
perhaps, were ever more moral or more conscientious. My
manhood was a period of courageous self-reliance, full of
work and hard knocks, but also full of hope and confi-
dence. It was the seedtime of my professional life, with-
out one misgiving, if my life should be spared, of ultimate
success. Am I old at sixty-four ? I do not feel that I am.
If my vigor has in any degree abated, I am not conscious
of it. I have just finished my thirtieth course of lectures
on surgery. If I ever lectured better, with greater enthu-
siasm, or with more point and effect, with more ease and
unction than I have this winter, I am not aware of the
fact. Always punctual to the minute, I invariably filled
the hour in a sustained and easy manner, keeping fully
alive the attention of my class until the janitor's bell an-
nounced that the time had expired. If my old age has not
been a triumph, it has been one of great tranquillity and
of unalloyed happiness, with an amount of work, mental
and physical, just sufficient to keep me comfortably oc-
cupied. I am, on an average, three to three and a half
hours in the streets each day, in making my professional
rounds, and the exercise which I am thus compelled to
take in the open air acts as a safety-valve to my constitu-
tion, wdiich might otherwise sink into a state of sluggish-
ness incompatible with sound health.

Few if any physicians or surgeons have ever been more
tormented with letters, upon all kinds of subjects, than
myself. To answer them has been to me a grievous task,
and yet there have hardly been any that could be safely

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 193

overlooked or neglected. ]\Iany of them have been ad-
dressed to me by my professional brethren, and more
especially by graduates of the different schools with which
I have been connected, asking advice respecting the
nature and treatment of their cases. These letters could
not be slighted without the risk of making these men my
enemies, and thus positively injuring myself as well as the
institution with which I might at the time be connected.

The writer perhaps tells me that he has a man labor-
ing under a tumor or morbid growth, concerning which
he earnestly desires my opinion, adding, it may be, that
his diagnosis, if I can confinn it, will be the making
of his reputation. Now, much as I like to assist my
professional brethren in their troubles, I never lose sight
of the fact that I owe something to myself. I therefore
always answer that, inasmuch as I have not seen or ex-
amined the case, I cannot be supposed to know anything
about it. To give an opinion in the dark, founded solely
upon the statement of another, perhaps not overly wise,
would indeed be the height of folly. It is certainly what
no sensible man should do.

A professor is thus a dependent creature. If his pupils
are his friends they send him patients, and his school
students ; if his enemies, they withhold both, and thus
give other physicians and other colleges their patronage.
A graduate then has a professor greatly in his power.
The same remark applies to advice concerning the pur-
chase of books, instruments, and apparatus.

I have often been asked to give my opinion upon points
of professional etiquette ; and also to act as umpire in cases
of disputes between two professional brethren — no very
enviable office, certainly, and yet not always avoidable,
especially in the case of old pupils, or of good friends,
whose wishes were law with me. Where there are no such
bonds, my advice is to steer clear of the responsibility im-
plied in such requests.

194 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

I am not uiifrequently obliged to give my testimony as
an expert in suits for malpractice, in behalf of practitioners
of whom I have not the slightest personal knowledge, and
who perhaps live at a great distance from me. Such calls
I seldom decline if I find that the defendant is a worthy
person, as I consider it my bounden duty always to defend
a professional brother when he is, as so generally happens,
unjustly prosecuted. These suits have, unfortunately,
been exceediugly common in this country during the last
twenty-five years, and, from what I know of them, there
is reason to believe that they are generally instigated by
dishonest and designing medical men, intent upon the
ruin of the defendant, who is thus often subjected to great
trouble, vexation, expense, and even loss of character.
What is worse than all, no physician or surgeon, however
exalted his character or position, is exempt from them.
There are at this moment — February, 1870 — three suits of
this kind pending in our courts against three highly re-
spectable practitioners in this city. A verdict of three
thousand dollars was rendered against the late Dr. Paul
B. Goddard for an operation on an eye ; and Dr. Horner,
for many years Professor of Anatomy in the University of
Pennsylvania, only escaped by his death a trial for mal-
practice. These suits are not peculiar to this country,
though they are much more common among us than they
are in Europe. The celebrated case of Bransby B. Cooper,
the nephew of the great Sir Astley, is famous in medical
history, on account of the respectability of the defendant
and the outrageous character of the prosecution.

Some idea of the extent of my correspondence may be
formed when I state that my paper, envelopes, ink, and
postage-stamps cost me nearly one hundred dollars annu-
ally. This cost, however, is a trifle compared with my
time and labor. Fortunately, I long ago learned the
proper way of dealing with such communications — by short
answers ; and yet short answers will not always suffice.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 195

A man must do himself justice, especially wlien lie gives
a professional opinion ; otherwise he must bear the risk of
misrepresentation and its ill effects upon his business as a
sensible, educated, scientific physician.

The most laconic answer I ever returned to any person
was the following : A medical man wrote to me about a
case of prolapse of the iris consequent upon a wound of the
cornea in a young child. The mother would not allow
the iris to be replaced, fearing the effects of chloroform.
At the end of twelve days the physician wrote to m.e to
know whether he should make an effort at reduction or
snip off the protruding portion. To this I simply replied,
' ' Snip, ' ' and the operation, as I subsequently learned, was
successful.

I am often asked for testimonials of character, or recom-
mendations of qualifications, a thing I never grant unless
I have some personal knowdedge of the applicant, or he
comes fully indorsed by one in whose judgment and hon-
esty I have full confidence. To act otherwise would be
highly culpable.

No man has probably been more frequently tormented
than I have been about testimonials for all kinds of things
from a nipple-shield to an electric battery, and for every
intermediate contrivance that can be conceived of, includ-
ing cod-liver oil, vegetable extracts, toothpicks, and even
blacking. The importunities that have accompanied
these petitions have sometimes been very great; but I
have invariably had the firmness to resist them ; and if,
after I am dead and gone, my name should appear in con-
nection with any such document, I hereby declare that
it was forged ; for I never gave a testimonial for such a
purpose. A newspaper is occasionally sent to me with
a quack advertisement, in which the writer has had the
impudence to refer to my name, of course without my
knowledge or authority. These things will happen, and
they are not a little annoying, as they have a tendency to

196 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

place one in a false position, both with the public and the
profession.

Swaim, an illiterate, cunning charlatan, made his fortune
with his ' ' Panacea ' ' on the strength of the testimonials
given him by Chapman, Dewees, Hare, and Gibson, Pro-
fessors in the University of Pennsylvania. How these
men could have deliberately committed such an outrage
upon their school and the profession has always been a
mystery to me. Nothing could have been more unwise,
undignified, or unprofessional. Physick, who had been
solicited to unite with them, would rather have burned
off his right hand than have been guilty of such an act
He had a higher and nobler sense of what was due to
himself and his profession. Some men seem to have a
special fondness for such things. Dr. Miitter at one time
gave his name to all kinds of testimonials, evidently from
a sheer desire for notoriety. I have now before me a
pamphlet, entitled Concentrated Extract of Pinus Cana-
densis, a quack medicine, indorsed by one of the most
eminent gynaecologists of the day and a former President
of the American Medical Association ; and there are hun-
dreds of just such men in this country who, apparently
for the sake merely of seeing their names in print, do not
hesitate to sacrifice their professional dignity and degrade
their noble calling.

No profession can sustain itself long in public estimation
unless it is largely composed of gentlemen, men of mental
culture, refined taste, general intelligence, and courtly
bearing. Unless this high standard is sedulously main-
tained, loss of caste and decline of influence will be no less
conspicuous than deplorable. Of nothing do I feel more
profoundly assured than this : that there can be no salutary
leadership which is not based on sound morals and good
breeding, and that no barrier of protection should be thrown
down by any one — be he physician, clergyman, or lawyer —
who wishes to secure an honored and a lasting reputation.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 197

The medical man should be a thorough gentleman. I
have heard of a physician losing a wealthy lady patient
because he cleaned his nails in her presence, a thing which
of course no well-bred gentleman ever does. Walking
roughly across the floor of the sick-chamber, loud talking,
and an angry or impatient tone of voice, are sure to be com-
mented upon, and not unfrequently lead to unpleasant
consequences. In consultations, which always take place
away from the patient, the business should be scrupulously
confined to the matter in hand. Any irrelevant talk, if
overheard, as is not unfrequently the case, is often inter-
preted to the disadvantage of the attendants, on the ground
that they do not take sufficient interest in the welfare of
the patient ; and in truth there is some reason for such a
conclusion.

I always had private pupils during my early professional
life, and have reason to believe that most of them remained
ever afterwards my warm friends. A few, whom I most
befriended and assisted to important positions, became
lukewarm and apparently indifferent, thus affording an-
other illustration of the old adage that ' ' The more you
do for a man the less he likes you." Some of my pupils
have become distinguished teachers, writers, and practi-
tioners, and have thus reflected credit upon me as their
preceptor. Having experienced but little benefit from
private instruction myself, I spared no pains to advance
the interests of my pupils, and to use every effort to
inspire them with an honest zeal for their studies. My
practice always was to examine them at a certain hour
regularly every other day, or thrice a week, as long as
they were under my charge, not with book in hand, as
had been the custom with my own preceptor, but extem-
poraneously, often explaining matters in the form of
familiar lectures, interspersed with apt questions, a mode
of instruction which commends itself by its great sim-
plicity and effectiveness, as it interests the student much

198 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

more than any other practice with which I am ac-
quainted. One and a half to two hours were generally
consumed in this exercise. The teaching was always con-
ducted in the most systematic manner ; the pupils were
obliged to be punctual in their attendance ; and when-
ever it was in my power, I showed them cases and illus-
trated the application of bandages and apparatus. The
regular fee for private tuition was one hundred dollars a
year ; but, although I had altogether a considerable num-
ber of private pupils, I am sure I never made three thou-
sand dollars in this way, as there were many who never
paid me anything for the pains I took in instructing them.
Now and then I was decidedly a loser, as some of them
borrowed money of me which they never returned. Not
many of these men have risen to eminence, although a
number of them were endowed with excellent talents, and
would doubtless have succeeded in acquiring reputation
if they had not been deficient in these most important of
all the elements of greatness — industry and perseverance.
The two who have thus far most distinguished themselves
are Dr. T. G. Richardson, Professor of Surgery in the
University of Louisiana at New Orleans, and Dr. Nathan
Bozeman, who has earned a large reputation — American
and European — as a gyUcEcologist. Of the pupils who
have attended my public lectures many have become dis-
tinguished teachers and practitioners of surgery, and not
a few occupy highly respectable positions in the army and
navy.

My residence in Cincinnati, as stated elsewhere, was one
of hard work, with an income gradually increasing, but at
all times sufficient for my slender wants. My family was
small, and my wife and I economized as much as we could.
At Louisville I made a great deal of money, but my ex-
penses were proportionably great, and when I left, my prop-
erty all told was probably not worth sixty thousand dollars.
I have made some money since my residence here, but I

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 199

am not rich — only in vety easy, comfortable circumstances,
the best condition, perhaps, in which a rational being can
be. The acquisition of money has never been my aim or
desire. I have lived solely for my profession. If I had
been less of a student, I might, and probably would, have
been a richer man. I have never engaged in any specula-
tions. I have made by hard work every dollar I possess.
My librar}^, although not very large, has cost me a consid-
erable sum ; and when I was young I sometimes bought
books when I could ill afford the purchase. My personal
habits have never been expensive. In my dress I have
always endeavored to be neat ; my equipage has been very
plain ; and my study has always been simple, without any
extravagance. I have never attempted any parade, or
been guilty of ostentation or display. In riding about the
city I have never been so happy as when I was seated in
my buggy, with reins in hand, behind a respectable, well-
broken , trustworthy horse. In 1867 I bought a coupe,
but it was a long time before I felt at home in it, or
became reconciled to its requirements. Even now, after
a trial of nearly three years, I frequently feel lost and
uncomfortable in it.

In religion I have been for the greater part of my life a
Unitarian, although I was brought up, in conformity with
my mother's wishes, in the Lutheran Church, and at the
age of fifteen was confirmed and took the sacrament, after
having learned nearly the whole catechism by heart. As
I grew older I threw aside the narrow sectarianism of my
childhood, and adopted what I believe to be the most
rational doctrine that has ever been proclaimed. In this
faith I have lived, and in this faith I hope to die. My
respect for the Christian religion has always been pro-
found. Even apart from the disputed doctrine that Christ
is God, it is the most sublime religion that has ever
prevailed among men ; and it has done more to civilize,
refine, and humanize our race than all other schemes that

200 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

have ever been devised for our salvation, temporal and
eternal, put together. In my }ounger days I was a regular
attendant at church ; but for many years past I have been
so much occupied, professionally, on the Sabbath that it
has seldom been in my power to be there more than per-
haps half a dozen times a year. This I have always
sincerely regretted. As it was, I should have gone much
oftener if it had not been utterly repugnant to my feelings
to enter my pew when the service was half over, or to
struggle during a prosy sermon against sleep, brought on
by excessive mental and bodily fatigue incurred in the
exercise of my professional duties.

Many of the most distinguished men that ever lived
were Unitarians, or upheld Unitarian doctrines. In our
own country Unitarianism has been indorsed by Channing,
Parker, Emerson, and other leading minds ; in Germany
it found a warm sympathizer in Herder ; and Dr. Robert
Knox, the great Scotch anatomist and anthropologist, be-
lieved in it. Sir Isaac Newton, John Milton, and John
Locke were Unitarians, together with many of the noblest
intellects in English histor}'. I am therefore not ashamed
of the faith that is in me. To err is human ; to for-
give divine. One part of my religious creed is to be
charitable to all men, of whatever faith, provided it does
not lean to idolatr}\ No human being can tell with
any degree of certainty who is right or who is wrong.
There is probably no religion that has not some god-
liness in it as its basis. "The fool hath said in his
heart. There is no God." A greater truism never was
uttered.

I hold it to be unwise, if not positively criminal, for a
physician to thrust his religious views upon his patients.
If his views differ from those of the people around him, es-
pecially of those who give him their confidence in sickness
and in sorrow, it is little less than brutal to disturb their
belief It is better, a thousand times better, to remain

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. £>. 201

silent, and to intrust all such matters to tlie clergy, to
whom they properly belong. The opinion uttered upon
this subject by Dr. John Gregor}-, of Edinburgh, a
hundred years ago, coincides so fully with my own
that I cannot refrain from quoting it : "A physician
who has the misfortune to disbelieve in a future state
will, if he has common good-nature, conceal his senti-
ments from those under his charge with as much care
as he would preserve them from the infection of a mortal
disease. ' '

I have naturally, as all men must have, an instinctive
horror of death, not because of any fear about the dispo-
sition of my soul, but because my life has been a pleasant
one, and I would therefore be glad to hold on to it. I
have often thought that our lives are too short for the
amount of labor we are obliged to perform. Just as we
begin to know how to live, and become comfortably set-
tled, we are obliged to go hence, whither exactly we
know not. What my soul is God has not revealed to me.
Whatever it may be. He will, in His good mercy and
great kindness, take care of it. I have doubtless many
sins, but more of omission than of commission. I have
never believed in original wickedness. Man is only man ;
he is weak and frail by nature, and he must therefore do
a great many things that are displeasing to his Creator.
Imperfection is his great characteristic.

When I am dead I should like to be burned. It is not
to me a pleasant idea to be put six feet under ground,
without the possibility of ever again reaching the surface.
I have a great respect for urn burial, and hope the day is
not distant when it will come into general use. I know
of no more disagreeable sight than a graveyard, especially
in a city. It is amazing that civilization should ever have
tolerated such a nuisance. To me nothing is more dis-
tasteful or disgusting. It is a relic of barbarism of the
worst kind. I want to be useful when I am dead, which
I — 26

202 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

I cannot be if I am stuck away six feet into the earth.
If I am burned, my body will enter again into new crea-
tions, and thus be subservient to some useful purpose. It
may assist in animating a flower, in ornamenting the
plumage of a bird, or in directing the movements of a
caterpillar. I prefer anything rather than to be obliged
to decay in the earth and lie forever idle.

If I am obliged to be buried as other people are, I wish
to lie in some spot where birds may sing over my grave,
and where occasionally a friendly hand may deposit a
flower, as a memento of respect and devotion to my
memory. An immortelle is worth all the chiselled marble
that was ever erected over a man's tomb.

There is some choice in regard to a man's death. If I
could have my own way, I should select apoplexy as the
most desirable mode of exit. It does its work quickly,
and generally very gracefully, very much like an anaes-
thetic, without the consciousness of the individual. The
Litany contains a prayer against sudden death, considering
it as a great evil ; but this has reference solely to a man's
religious preparation. It assumes that a slow death affords
a person a better chance to get ready for the kingdom of
heaven. A sensible man should always be ready. His
motto should be, Niinquam iio)t paratus, I have seen
so much of chronic death, as it may be called, that I
pray God to preserve me and mine from its appalling
affliction. What can be more horrible, more truly ago-
nizing than death from consumption or cancer? When
my hour comes I hope the Destroyer will do me a
friendly act by extinguishing life in the twinkling of an
eye, and thus save me from the pangs of gradual dissolu-
tion. "Oh, that my life may go out like the snufl" of a
candle!"

Few persons can look upon death with the same com-
posure as Mrs. Barbauld, who in her old age composed the
following beautiful lines :

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D, 203

" Life ! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ;
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time ;

Say not ' Good-night,' but in some happier clime
Bid me ' Good-morning.' "

The practice of medicine leaves one little leisure for the
study of the classics or the cultivation of the fine arts. A
physician who has little or no business is in a sad condi-
tion ; one who is overAvhelmed with it is, if possible, still
worse off, for his mind and body are on a constant strain,
affording him no opportunity for recreation, for domestic
enjoyment, or for the charms of literature. It is reported
of the celebrated Dr. Matthew Baillie, of London, that
when he was at the height of his practice he often came
home so much exhausted that if a member of his family
made a sign to approach him, he would motion him back
with uplifted hands, and sink down in the first convenient
chair to rest himself * Many, many times have I experi-
enced similar feelings after I had been up all night with
a sick patient, had performed a tedious and delicate opera-
tion, or had held a protracted clinic, attended with more
than ordinary labor and anxiety. No man in such a con-
dition wants to be troubled with company, idle talk, or
light reading. What he needs is substantial repose of
mind and body, to reinvigorate his exhausted powers. It
is certainly highly desirable that every physician should
know something outside of his own profession ; that he
should have a general acquaintance with art, science,
geography, travel, poetry, and history-, in order that he

* On one occasion Baillie was paying; a visit to a lady affected with some trivial
complaint ; she had plied him with all sorts of questions, when, tearing himself
away, he ran headlong down the stairs. ".Stop!" said the unrelenting creature;
" may I eat oysters ?" " Yes," was the reply, " shells and all, madam."

204 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

may appear before the world at least as a man of some cul-
ture and general information. It is not necessar}^ that he
should be profoundly versed in any of these things. Such
knowledge can be obtained only at the expense of his pro-
fession, to which he owes his first duty, his best allegiance,
and which, if properly cultivated, allows him but little time
for extraneous work. I have frequently found that physi-
cians who pride themselves upon their classical attain-
ments, their knowledge of literature, or their scientific
proficiency, are poor practitioners, who seldom contribute
any useful facts to the stock of their profession. They
are like meteors, very brilliant, but of little use as prac-
titioners of the healing art. There was a time, as in the
days of Radcliffe, IMead, and Johnson, when medical men,
even if in large practice, had an abundance of leisure, a
portion of which at least they could devote to social en-
joyment and to the attractions of literature. But things
are different nowadays. Medicine has become a great and
complex study, and he who would excel in it, whether
considered merely as an art or as a science, must be wide
awake, and give himself up, soul and body, to its interests.
No half measures will suffice. She is a zealous mistress,
and will not put up with evasive coquetry.

It has been said of lawyers that he who preserves his
honor unspotted deserves a place in the calendar of saints,
so rarely, it would seem, do they pass unscathed through
the fiery ordeal of professional life, a life beset with so many
temptations. I would fain hope that such a sentiment
is a slander upon the members of the bar. However
this may be, I am quite sure that the remark does not
apply to medical men. Faults undoubtedly we have, and
there are, it is equally true, many bad men among us;
but, in the main, physicians are high-toned, upright, con-
scientious, and honorable men, who practise their profes-
sion not so much for the love of gain as for the opportuni-
ties it affords them of doing good. It is rarely that we

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 205

hear of a patient being neglected, overcharged, or in any-
wise ill treated. The secrets which are confided to them
in their professional interconrse are seldom revealed ; and
if, now and then, there is a gossip among them, he is
commonly short-lived, the community soon fixing a brand
upon him by which all men shall know him. I am often
told that the professional standard is lower than it was
forty or fifty years ago. Certainly it is low enough, but
this is a great slander. Physicians at the present day,
without being more refined, or without having any better
preliminary education, are more highly educated than for-
merly ; our means of instruction are far greater, and the
instruction itself is of a much higher order. The time
will come when this matter will regulate itself, when a
liiofher standard will be demanded both of brains and of
preparatory knowledge, and when our instruction will be
better systematized, and the student required to study a
much longer time and to make better use of his opportuni-
ties than he now does. Meanwhile, some of our schools
at least do the best they can. It is unfortunately only too
true that many of the young men of the present day study
and practise merely as a trade, or as a means of obtaining a
livelihood. Our examinations for the doctorate are too
lax, and the candidate is let loose upon the world without
that practical knowledge of his profession so necessar}' to
meet the emergencies of daily life. Our opportunities for
the acquisition of this knowledge are as great and varied
here as they are anywhere in the wide, wide world. But
our young men are too impatient to benefit by them.
They are in hot haste to break through the shackles of
student life, and to embark upon the rough sea of practice
without a due appreciation of the quicksands that lie in
their path, and upon which so many are wrecked.

Industry does a great deal towards building up a practice
and laying the foundation of an enduring reputation. Dr.
William Stokes, of Dublin, who attained to the highest

2o6 AUTOBIOGRArHY OF

pinnacle of reputation long before he died, made this entry
in his diary at the age of twenty-two : "I rise early, write
until breakfast, then go to the dispensary, where I sit
in judgment on disease for an hour ; then to the hos-
pital, where I go round the wards attended by a crowd of
pupils ; from the hospital I return home, write again till
two, and then go round and visit my patients through dif-
ferent parts of tlie town, attended by a pupil. Many of
my patients have one great defect, viz., that, instead of
giving money, they too often, unfortunate beings, have to
solicit it from their medical attendant ; and who, with the
heart of a man, would refuse to relieve their sufferings
when he has a shilling in his pocket? A poor woman
whom I attended long, and who ultimately recovered, said,
' Oh, doctor, you have given me a good stomach, but I
have nothing to put into it.' " Thousands of young prac-
titioners, who are in search of practice in a large city,
and who must be content, often for 5'ears, with the scum
of the alle}'S and byways, can indorse the truth of this
statement of the Irish physician. My heart has often ached
and my pocket opened under such sad circumstances.

Mungo Park, the celebrated traveller, who was educated
to the profession of medicine, declared that he greatly pre-
ferred the life of an explorer in the wilds of Africa to the
drudgeries of practice among the hills, moorland, and
heaths of Scotland, his native country. He mentions that
he rode one day a distance of forty miles on horseback, sat
up all night in attendance upon a woman laboring under
the throes of parturition, and received as his fee a roasted
potato and a glass of buttermilk. It is not every obstetri-
cian that can boast even of such a grand reward. I my-
self, in my earlier days, on more occasions than one, put
up with less.

It may be well for m.e here to enumerate briefly some
of my labors and original contributions to medicine and
surger}^, apart from authorship :

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 207

Experiments on dogs and rabbits, in 1833, during my
residence at Easton, to illustrate the subject of manual
strangulation. A full account of these experiments was
published in Drake's Western Journal of Medicine, vol. ix.,
and an abstract of them will be found in Beck's Medical
Jurisprudence, vol. ii.

Experiments upon excretion, to ascertain the rapid
transit of certain articles, when taken into the stomach,
through the blood by the kidneys. For this purpose rabbits
were selected, to which, after having tied both renal
arteries, protoxide of iron was administered. The animals
were killed within thirty minutes, and upon applying a
solution of cyanide of potassium to the urine, well-marked
traces of iron were invariably found in that fluid.

During my residence in Cincinnati I spent much time
in weighing and measuring healthy organs, as well as
in studying their color and consistence, with a view of
determining the more readily their changes in disease.
The results of these examinations were embodied in my
treatise on Pathological Anatomy. My examinations of
the prostate have been fully quoted by Sir Henry Thomp-
son and others.

My experiments on the nature and treatment of wounds
of the intestines are referred to on a previous page. They
occupied fully two years of my leisure time, and were per-
formed soon after I entered the University of Louisville.

In my Pathological Anatomy I have given an account
of a number of dissections of specimens of false concep-
tions, or uterine moles, as they are termed — the first ac-
count of them in the English language, as far as I know.

During my residence at Easton, I took, with the great-
est possible care, fifty observations on the temperature of
venous blood in healthy persons of both sexes, the result
being an average of 96° Fahr. The results of these inves-
tigations were published, in 1835, in the Western IMedical
Gazette, vol. ii.

2o8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Deep stitches in wounds of the wall of the abdomen,
to prevent hernia or protrusion of the bowel after recovery.
As far as my reading extends I know of no work on sur-
gery in which this subject was placed in its true light, or,
indeed, any light prior to the publication of my mono-
graph on wounds of the intestines. Of course every sur-
geon speaks of it now.

The invention of an enterotome for the treatment of
artificial anus, intended to supersede the clumsy contri-
vance of Dupuytren.

A tracheotomy forceps, for the extraction of foreign
bodies from the air-passages, favorably mentioned by
writers on surgery.

Wiring the ends of the bones in dislocations of the
sterno-clavicular and acromio-clavicular joints, taught
originally in my lectures in the University of Louisville
soon after I took charge of the chair of Surgery in that
school. Since successfully practised by the late Dr.
Cooper, of San Francisco, and by Dr. Hodgen, of St.
Louis.

Blood catheter, an instrument for drawing off the urine,
when mixed with blood, or when the openings of the
ordinary catheter become obstructed with blood, as it is
passed along the urethra.

An arterial compressor — a peculiar pair of forceps —
for arresting hemorrhage in deep-seated vessels not acces-
sible to the ligature or amenable to torsion or acupressure,
as in the perineum after lithotomy.

A tourniquet, or compressor, constructed in the form
of a clamp, for compressing the vessels of the extremities
in amputation, now superseded by Esmarch's bandage ;
still of use in compressing the axillary artery in amputa-
tion at the shoulder joint.

An instrument for extracting foreign bodies from the
nose and ear, found in nearly every pocket-case in the
country.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 209

Modification of Pirogoff's amputation at the ankle joint,
unjustly ascribed to Dr. Quimby of Jersey City.

Laparotomy in rupture of the bladder.

Direct operation for hernia by suturing the pillars of the
ring.

Mode of operating for inverted toe-nail.

Apparatus for the transfusion of blood.

First account of Prostatorrhoea.

Description of a new form of neuralgia of the jaws in
old persons.

Pododynia, a disease of the foot, first described by me.

I was the first to describe the use of adhesive plaster
as a means of making extension in the treatment of frac-
tures of the lower extremity. The account was published
in my work on Injuries and Diseases of the Bones, in 1830.
The case in which this treatment was originally employed
was one of compound fracture in the practice of my first
preceptor. Dr. Joseph K. Swift, of Easton, Pennsylvania.

When I settled in Philadelphia the practice among the
more distinguished physicians was to administer morphia
and quinine in very small doses, the former generally in
about the one-eighth of a grain and the latter in about a
grain, repeated ever>' two, three, or four hours. A quarter
of a grain of morphia was considered a very large dose, and
half a grain was rarely ventured upon in any case. When
in my didactic lectures and at the clinics I spoke of half a
grain as a minimum dose in inflammation, and of one grain
as a proper dose in severe pain, many of my new confreres
held up their hands in holy horror, and yet now this very
practice is quite prevalent among us. Does not common
sense teach that a small anodyne in violent suffering is
worse than useless? So of quinine : what use is there in
small doses in cases of emergency, as in neuralgia and
intermittent fever ? In a duel which is to decide the fate
of a nation, it would be folly to oppose a pigmy against a
giant, or to fight with a pistol against a chassepot. The

I — 27

2IO AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

dose must be sncli as to meet the exigencies of the partic-
ular case. Of course, there are proper limits in all things,
which no man of sense will lightly disregard.

As far as my reading extends, I was the first to suggest
the use of ergot in the treatment of diabetes. The case
was that of a woman — a patient of Dr. Shearer, of Sink-
ing Springs, Berks County, Pennsylvania, who afterwards
published an account of it in the Philadelphia Medical and
Surgical Reporter. Although the case was a bad one, the
quantity of water discharged in the twenty-four hours being
very large, perfect recovery took place, entirely ascribable
to the use of the ergot. Since then the article has been
employed in very numerous instances with great success
in this affection. A full account of this treatment is con-
tained in the late Dr. Napheys's Therapeutics.

Many years ago I suggested a new method of treat-
ing ganglia of the hand and foot by the subcutaneous
division of the cyst, comminuting it most thoroughly by
means of the tenotome, and then making firm compres-
sion with sheet-lead and a compress and bandage — a plan
now generally pursued in this country, if not also in
Europe.

The opening of chronic abscesses is, as is well known,
when practised by the ordinary method, almost invariably
followed by high constitutional reaction, or hectic irrita-
tion. To prevent this occurrence I have been in the habit
— at least for a quarter of a century — of placing the pa-
tient immediately under the full influence of opium, and
keeping up the impression for at least five or six days, by
the end of which time the system has usually fully accom-
modated itself to its new relations. I have never known
any bad effects to arise, even when the opening was very
free, in the most depraved constitution, where this treat-
ment was properly carried out. If this practice is not
original with me, I have never seen any account of it, and
must therefore claim some credit for it.

SAMUEL D. GJiOSS, Af.D. 21 1

The inflammaton' origin and vitality of tubercle of the
lungs and other structures were for a long time doubted
by most pathologists in this country and in Europe.
These doctrines, so directly in harmony with common
sense and the results of accurate observation, I taught
with great emphasis in my lectures in the Cincinnati Col-
lege and afterwards in my work on Pathological Anatomy,
and they are now the accepted doctrines of the schools.
The vitality of tubercle is, of course, very feeble, and
hence, after a certain period, it is sure to undergo softening
and degeneration.

The propriety of amputating in senile gangrene has long
been a disputed question. If the operation be ever proper,
and there are certainly cases in which it is, it should inva-
riably be performed, as I have reason to believe I was the
first to teach, at a great distance from the seat of the dis-
ease, after a very perfect line of demarcation has formed.
The disease, as is well known, is dependent upon calcifi-
cation of the arteries, leading to the formation of emboli,
or fibrinous clots, in their interior, with consequent ob-
struction of the circulation, followed by the death of the
parts thus deprived of blood. As the degeneration of the
arterial tissues often, if not generally, extends a consid-
erable distance beyond the gangrenous structures, there is
every reason why, if amputation be performed, the limb
should be removed at a great distance from the affected
parts to prevent a recurrence of the disease. Thiis, for
instance, in gangrene of the foot, amputation should be
performed only a short distance below the knee, and in
gangrene involving the ankle or lower part of the leg,
nearly as high up or quite as high as the middle of the
thigh.

If I was not the first to suggest, I was certainly the first,
at least in this countr}', to sew together the ends of an
accidentally divided tendon of the hand. The ends were
refreshed, and united by wire suture. The parts did well,

212 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

and an excellent cure was the result. The operation has
only of late years begun to attract attention.

In my lectures on surgery for many years I have taught
that what are usually called scrofulous diseases are noth-
ing but remote forms of syphilis, in which the latter dis-
ease has lost its distinctive features. The more I see of
such cases the more I am convinced that I am right. My
views upon this subject are fully set forth in the address
which I delivered at Detroit, in 1874, on Syphilis in its
Relation to the National Health.

CHAPTER VIII.

TTSIT EUROPE — BERNE — ALBERT VON HALLER — ESTIMATE OF HIS CHARACTER
AND WORKS — VIENNA — OBJECTS OF INTEREST — ALLGEMEINES KRANKENHAUS
— ROKITANSKY — VIENNA SCHOOL OF SURGERY — BILLROTH — DRESDEN — BER-
LIN— VIRCHOW — VON LANGENBECK — VON GRAEFE — UNIVERSITY OF BERLIN —
EHRENBERG.

I HAD long been desirous of visiting Europe for the
purpose of becoming better acquainted by personal obser-
vation with her people and her institutions, but more par-
ticularly for the opportunity that would thus be afforded
me of meeting some of the distinguished medical men
with whose names and works I had been familiar, and
with many of whom I had been for years in correspond-
ence. I had wished to see the practical working of the
medical schools and the hospitals of the Old World, and
the magnificent museums with which some of the larger
British and Continental cities are enriched. I had longed
to visit the scenes of the early struggles and triumphs of
a Haller, a Hunter, and a Cooper, and to compare Euro-
pean with American medical science. In 1868 the severe
indisposition of my wife demanded entire change of scene
and air, and accordingly in May of that year we set sail
for France. It is not my purpose, nor would it be my
pleasure, to give a detailed sketch of this visit. The un-
usual facilities now enjoyed for reaching Europe, and the
great number of works annually published as the result
of foreign travel shoiild alone preclude my undertaking
such a task, even if want of space were not pleaded as an
excuse for the rather disjointed way in which portions of
this visit are related. Accompanied by my son, A. Haller

214

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Gross, who joined us in Paris, and who had already been
for some time on the Continent engaged in study and
travel, we spent several delightful months.

Some of the pleasantest recollections of this visit are
connected with Berne, the city of the bears, where the
chief attraction for me was the house in which Von
Haller, the great physiologist, lived for so many years,
and in which he finally died.* A young, well-dressea,
ladylike woman responded to the old knocker, and with
a polite courtesy bade me enter. Telling her that I was
an American physician, I explained the object of my visit,
and to my great delight found that she was a connection
by marriage of the Von Haller family. When I told her
that my son, then present, w^as named for Haller, it seemed
as if she could not do too much for us. The house, an
old two-story stone structure with a deep basement, is
situated upon an elevated street, almost immediately oppo-
site to, and only a very short distance from, the mouth of
the river Aar, a fierce, tumultuous stream rushing down
from the Alps, which, with their snow-capped summits, are
in full view of this classic residence. One of the principal
objects which attracted my attention was a marble tablet
in the wall of the hall inscribed with the date of Haller' s
birth and death. My kind cicerone evinced great pleasure
in showing me the apartment which had once formed the
study and library of this great and good man ; and upon
taking my leave of her she presented me with a beautiful
rose from a small parterre on the veranda overlooking the
Aar. Of this flower I sent some petals to my good friend,
the late Professor Robley Dunglison, whose work on physi-

* It is related that on one occasion an English traveller wended his way to the
house of the great physiologist that he might worship at his shrine. Some time
afterwards, meeting with Voltaire, he was surprised to hear the distinguished
Frenchman refer to Haller in terms of praise and admiration, adding, " Haller
does not speak so well of you." "Alas! possibly we are both mistaken," re
plied Voltaire, with great coolness and a shrug of the shoulder.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 215

ology may justly be regarded in our day in the same light
in which Mailer's was in his — a monument of erudition
and of stupendous industry, worthy of any age or countr}'.

From my earliest professional life I had been a warm
admirer of the character and writings of the Swiss physi-
ologist. During my pupilage I had read his First Lines
of Physiology ; and soon after I obtained my medical
degxee I was so fortunate as to secure the German edition
of his great work, in eight duodecimo volumes, a resume
of all that had been published upon the subject up to the
time of its appearance, near the middle of the eighteenth
century. This work is not a mere compilation. While it
partakes largely of this character, as every work of the
kind professing to give a full histor}^ of the science neces-
sarily must, it embodies a great amount of original matter,
the results of the experiments of Haller and of his pupils,
many of whom afterwards became distinguished men,
worthy of the fame of such a master. This work passed
through many editions, was translated into the principal
languages of Europe, and will be referred to in all time
to come as a true and faithful exponent of the science and
literature of physiologv' up to the time of the death of its
illustrious author.

Haller was, in every respect, a wonderful man, many-
sided, endowed with a lofty genius. He was a hard worker,
a lover of nature and of art, with an inquisitive mind in-
cessantly bent upon the acquisition of knowledge, a skilful
interpreter of science, and, in the truest sense of the term,
a seeker after truth. He was, as is conceded by all,
the most learned man of his day. What Erasmus was in
the sixteenth century Haller was in the eighteenth. He
spoke with great fluency nearly ever}^ living language of
Europe, and was a thorough master of Greek and Latin.
Born in 1708, his childhood was passed in constant study,
in which he made such marvellous progress that when, in
his tenth year, he was examined for admission into the

2i6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

gymnasium, he performed the self-imposed task of trans-
lating his German exercises into Greek, instead of Latin, as
he had been requested to do. He had alread}-, at this time,
prepared brief sketches of the lives of more than two
thousand distinguished men, and made some progress in
the study of Hebrew and Chaldaic. It is asserted by one
of his biographers that he wrote Latin like Tacitus. He
had the merit of introducing a new era into German liter-
ature. Excepting Luther, no man perhaps ever did more
than he to advance its interests, or to invest it with so
much respect. For more than half a century the German
language had lost caste among the higher orders of society,
and had been effectually banished from the German courts,
which, in their imbecility, abjured their mother-tongue and
substituted for it the French language, which few of them
spoke with fluency and none with accuracy. Haller, whose
literar>' tastes were of a high order, and whose researches
penetrated into almost every branch of knowledge — science,
theology, statesmanship, politics, and even law — did much
to correct this state of things by the labors of his pen,
which was never idle. His style was always graceful and
dignified, and he knew how to express his ideas in the
fewest words and in the simplest language. Incredible as
it may seem, he wrote several thousand reviews of im-
portant works, prepared constantly new editions of his
own treatises, and for nearly half a century kept a diary
of the things and events which transpired around him.
His poems, of which a copy has long been in my library,
passed through thirty editions, of which one was in Latin,
one in English, one in Italian, and eight in French. His
biographer tells us that when Schiller left Stuttgart he
carried with him only two works, Shakespeare and Haller.
Haller was a born poet ; for he wrote poetry when he was
a mere youth, his first efforts being translations of Ovid,
Horace, and Virgil, followed by imitations of Lohenstein,
and of the Psalms of David. His poetical effusions are

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 217

pervaded by a religious tone, which shows that he was
a firm believer, not only in the existence of God, but
in the fundamental truths of Christianity, as understood
and practised in his day. His piety is beautifully shown
in his IvCtters on the Truths of Christianity, a small vol-
ume addressed to his daughter. His library consisted of
upwards of twelve thousand volumes, and comprised the
choicest works in the various languages of Europe. Hum-
boldt, no mean authority, pronounced him the greatest
naturalist of his day.

Haller was the founder of modern physiolog>% as Ves-
alius, two hundred years before, had been the founder of
modern anatomy. Both of these great men found these
branches of study a mass of jargon, unworthy of the name
of science, and erected them upon a solid and substan-
tial basis. Vesalius was the first to dissect the human
subject and to teach anatomy practically ; Haller the
first to place physiology upon an experimental footing.
Both rendered immense service to the interests of science,
and infused into the minds of their pupils the fire of their
genius. Haller studied the higher mathematics under the
illustrious Bernouilli, and medicine under the great mas-
ters of his time — anatomy under Winslow and Albinus ;
botany under Jussieu ; and theoretical and practical medi-
cine under the immortal Boerhaave. He had not been
long in the profession before he discovered the irritability
of the muscles, traced the development of the heart and
blood in the embryo, and entered upon that course of
experimental physiolog}' which has left its impress upon
succeeding ages. His labors were no child's play; he
worked earnestly, early and late, in season and out of
season. In botany he wrote an elaborate treatise, con-
taining descriptions, with drawings, of two thousand four
hundred and eighty-six Swiss plants, and contributed
several thousand articles to the Gottingen Cyclopedia.
Independent in worldly matters, he practised medicine
1—28

2i8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

only for the first few years after his return from his
foreign travels, and then abandoned himself to study and
the observation of nature. At Berne he established an
anatomical theatre, and instructed small classes of stu-
dents. At the age of twenty-seven he was elected to the
professorship of Medicine and Botany in the University of
Gottingen, a chair which he occupied for seventeen years,
attracting pupils from all parts of Europe, and imparting
to that school a popularity never attained before or since.
During his residence in that city he was treated with
princely consideration. Francis I., Emperor of Germany,
raised him to the rank of nobility ; and Count Orloff, of
Russia, used all his influence to entice the great man
to St. Petersburg. On his retirement from Gottingen
he settled permanently at Berne, where, in the midst of
learned friends, the greetings of illustrious men of science,
and light but genial labors, he died near the close of the
sixty-ninth year of his age, regretted by tlie world, and
mourned by Switzerland and Germany. On the 12th of
December, 1877, I^erne celebrated in a manner worthy
of her citizens the hundredth anniversary of his death.
Deputations from all the Swiss schools and from a num-
ber of the German, French, and Italian medical schools
and medical societies, as well as many illustrious men of
science and distinguished statesmen, attended on the occa-
sion, the interest of which was still further enhanced by
the presence of Haller's descendants. An elaborate ad-
dress, commemorative of the life and character of Haller,
was delivered by Professor Konig.

We left Venice near midnight on the ist of July, in the
train for Vienna. We were fortunate enough to have a
coup6 allotted to ourselves, so that we had an abundance
of room ; but the night was cold and wet, and the conse-
quence was that we were more or less uncomfortable, de-
spite the liberal use of our wrappings. At six o'clock in
the morning we found ourselves at the village of Nabresina,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 219

where, after partaking of a warm breakfast, we became
somewhat thawed, so as to be in a better condition to
enjoy the remainder of our journey, which embraced some
of the most glorious views upon which it is possible for the
eye to rest. The road across the Alps from the foot of
Lake Lucerne to St. Gothard, full as it is of the grandest
and wildest scener\^, presented few objects of greater sub-
limity than the pass over the Tyrolese Mountains by the
Semmering Railway, two thousand feet above the level of
the sea. After travelling some distance the road formed a
series of curves and semicircles flanked by deep valleys,
which it made one almost shudder to behold. The train
as it swept along resembled a huge anaconda, whiffing
and blowing as if it were ill at ease with itself and the
majestic mountains over which it was drawn at the rate of
thirty miles an hour. Cold as the day was, with only now
and then a gleam of sunshine, the ride was one of unal-
loyed enjoyment ; and although we were not a little fa-
tigued, we were sorry when we found, late in the after-
noon, that we were rapidly approaching the environs of
Vienna. A short ride from the depot soon brought us to
one of the principal hotels, where we passed the next four
days, visiting meanwhile some of the more important ob-
jects of interest, more especially the Imperial Royal Pic-
ture Gallery, the Lichtenstein Gallery, and the Church of
the Capucines, in the vault of which are contained the
bodies of upwards of seventy emperors and empresses.
Among the latest contributions to this curious receptacle
of royalty was the sarcophagus of Maximilian, who played
for a short time so conspicuous a part in Mexican poli-
tics, and whose career met with so sad a termination.
The fresh flowers upon the sarcophagus showed that
the young prince had left behind him tender and loving
hearts. What the destiny of Mexico might have been if
Maximilian had been permitted to remain pennanently
upon its throne is of course a matter solely of conjecture ;

220 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

but it was generally, and I believe correctly, thoiigbt that
it would have been greatly improved. Judging from the
wily and treacherous character of its people, it was easy to
foresee that he would sooner or later be hurled from his
seat, and that he would never leave the country alive.
Of all this I was myself at the time thoroughly convinced,
and often so expressed myself In a corner in this narrow
house, in an unadorned cofi&n, lies, at the special request
of the Empress Maria Theresa, the body of the Countess
Fuchs, her early and faithful instructress. It is eminently
creditable to this great woman that she was capable of ap-
preciating merit wherever she found it. The remains of
her physician, the famous Van Swieten, w^hose celebrated
Commentaries may still be read with profit, and to whom
Austria is indebted for her system of universal education,
lie in the vault of the Church of the Augustines, near the
tombs of the Emperor Leopold II. and of the illustrious
General Daun.

Few strangers visit Vienna without taking a walk to the
Karnthnerstrasse to look at the famous post leaning against
the wall of the house No. 1079, in what is now the very
heart of the city. This post is said to be the trunk of a
tree which once belonged to the Wienerwald, or ancient
forest, and is an object of uncommon historical interest
from the fact that it is bound round with iron hoops to
prevent it from falling, and so completely riddled with
nails that there is no room for any more. For centuries,
it seems, it was the custom of the apprentices of Vienna,
after serving out their time, to perfect their knowledge of
their trades by visiting foreign countries. Before setting
out on their journeys each made it his business to drive a
nail into this post, in order to propitiate the Fates, or, in
other words, to secure good luck.

The morning after our arrival in the Austrian capital I
made my way to the Allgemeines Krankenhaus, upwards
of a mile and a half from our lodgings, to shake hands

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 221

witli the renowned pathological anatomist, Professor Karl
Rokitansky, a man of world-wide reputation. We had
previously interchanged letters, and on handing him my
card he extended to me a cordial welcome. At the mo-
ment of my entrance into his workshop, for such it was,
he was surrounded by his pupils, engaged in the dissection
of the body of a man who had been murdered the previous
night. After the examination was completed he washed
his hands and showed me his collection of anatomical
preparations, one of the richest of the kind in the world,
and the product solely of his own patient and protracted
labors. As Professor of Pathological Anatomy, and Cura-
tor of the Imperial Pathological IMuseum, it is his duty to
examine the bodies of all persons dying in this great hos-
pital, and to keep a full record of the results. In addition
to this vast work, he is obliged, by virtue of his office of
coroner's physician, as it would be called in this country,
to examine the bodies of all persons found dead under sus-
picious circumstances in the city, and to report the results
to the public prosecutor. Rokitansky has been a liberal
contributor to the periodical press ; but his principal pro-
duction is his ]\Ianual of Pathological Anatomy, issued, in
five volumes, between the years 1842 and 1846, the first
having appeared last. This work, which embodies the
results of the dissection of upwards of thirty thousand
cadavers, and upon which the posthumous fame of this
great man will mainly rest, was translated soon afterwards
by the Sydenham Society of London, and republished in
this country, where, as well as abroad, it has enjoyed an
extensive circulation. How many cadavers he has exam-
ined since the first appearance of this work I am unable
to say ; but if his dissections have been anything in the
ratio that they were before, it is reasonable to conclude
that they amount to fifty thousand, a number probably
thirty or forty times greater than were ever made by
any other anatomist. Such an amount of labor implies

222 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

vast industry, and I was therefore not surprised to learn
from Rokitansky's own lips that he is an early riser, and a
persistent, systematic worker. Notwithstanding this, he
finds leisure to frequent the opera and the concert, and to
give social entertainments at his own house, especially
musical soirees^ being very fond of music and a good
performer upon the flute.

At the time of my visit Rokitansky was sixty-four years
of age, having been born in 1804. He is a native of
Koniggratz, in Bohemia, and took his medical degree at
Vienna in 1828. After having served for several years as
assistant in this institution, he was appointed in 1834
Professor of Pathological Anatomy ; in 1849, Dean of the
Medical Faculty ; and in 1850, Rector of the University of
Vienna. He is one of the court physicians ; and since my
visit, in 1868, he has been elected a Councillor of State
and a member of the Austrian Parliament. A few years
ago he retired from the University as a public teacher. In
stature Rokitansky is six feet high, well proportioned, with
a good forehead, and a face beaming with intelligence and
benevolence. He is a slow talker, and as a lecturer not
particularly attractive. As a writer, many of the passages
in his works are so obscure as to render it diflicult to grasp
their meaning ; and the translation of his IManual of Patho-
logical Anatomy must therefore have been a laborious
task. In conversing with him in German I noticed that
he constantly used the word "bissel" for "wenig," an
Austrian provincialism. His German was a broad brogue.

Rokitansky has done for Austria what the lamented
Bichat did for France. He laid the foundation, broad and
deep, of pathological anatomy for its medical profession,
and diffused a taste for its cultivation, the happy effects of
which have been felt in every nook and corner of the civ-
ilized world. His Manual is a vast storehouse of precious
knowledge, although it is no longer used as a text-book,
owing mainly to the fact that it is defective in microscop-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 223

ical details, which now figure so largely in all productions
of this kind.

The Vienna School of Surger}' has long been celebrated
for its great men, Vincent Kern, who for many years occu-
pied the chair of Surgery in its University, and was widely
known as an able teacher and a successful practitioner, was
particularly distinguished as a lithotomist, and was one of
the first to call attention to the use of cold water in the
treatment of gunshot wounds. He greatly simplified sur-
gical dressings, and was the author of several monographs
on medical and surgical subjects. George Joseph Beer, a
contemporary- of Kern, may be regarded as the father of
scientific ophthalmolog}'. He contributed numerous papers
upon the subject, and enjoyed for more than a third of a
century an unrivalled reputation as an oculist. His prin-
cipal work was a treatise, in two volumes, entitled Lehre
von den Augenkrankheiten, issued in 1818. A synopsis
of this work was published soon afterwards by the late Dr.
George Frick, of Baltimore. The fame of the chair of
Surgery in the University of Vienna was long upheld by
the labors and genius of Rust, a dexterous operator, an
excellent pathologist, and an erudite writer. He was
distinguished for his advocacy of the actual cautery in
the treatment of chronic diseases of the joints. Dr. Franz
Schuh, a celebrated surgeon and teacher, and the author
of an admirable work entitled Pathologic und Therapie
der Pseudoplasmen, was the first to recognize epithe-
lioma as a distinct form of carcinoma. He died in 1865,
and was succeeded by the present incumbent in the Uni-
versity, Professor Billroth, a man who has achieved a
world-wide reputation, although he is still comparatively
young. A pupil of Von Langenbeck of Berlin, Bill-
roth was for some years Professor of Surgery at Zurich,
whence, upon the death of Schuh, he was called to Vienna,
where I met him in 1868. Somewhat above the medium
height, he has an immense frame, with a marked inclina-

224 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

tion to stoutness, large head, and a good, open, frank, and
intelligent face, with dark hair and eyes. As a lecturer
his style is conversational rather than forcible ; his voice
and manner are agreeable, and he keeps thoroughly aroused
the attention of his class. The second day after my arrival
at Vienna I heard him deliver an admirable discourse upon
lymphatic tumors, illustrated by microscopical drawings
and wet preparations, and with frequent references to the
blackboard, he being, as is well known, a ready draughts-
man. As an operator he is fearless and bold almost to the
verge of rashness. The principal operation which I saw him
perform was excision of a carcinomatous rectum — a tedious
procedure, attended v/ith great loss of blood, the patient,
an elderly man, being under the influence of chloroform.
Upon asking him the following morning how his patient
was, he replied, with a significant shrug of the shoulder,
"He is moribund," and passed on. Billroth has lately
twice exsected the larynx, the patient in one of the cases
surviving several months in comparative comfort with
the aid of an artificial substitute. What he may do in
the way of heroic surgery it would be difficult to foretell.
Possibly his next feat may be the extirpation of the liver
or of the stomach ! Billroth is a good liver, fond of
society, a composer, and a superior pianist ; in a word,
a remarkable person, such as is rarely found in any pro-
fession. In this country he is known principally by his
work on Surgical Patholog}- and Therapeutics, translated
by Dr. Charles E. Hackley, of New York, and by his
achievements as a bold, dashing operator,

Billroth' s lecture-room is always well filled with atten-
tive pupils, a circumstance which is in striking contrast
with the slim attendance at Dumreicher's clinics in another
part of this immense hospital. In looking at Dumreicher,
and following him through his wards, one is not slow in
discovering the reason of this difference in the popularity
of the two men, Dumreicher, as his name implies, is a

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 225

dull, drowsy sort of a man, an old fogy, without energy or
life, and without the faculty of interesting his pupils.
Billroth, on the contrar}', is full of soul, always busy, in-
structive, and full of resources under the most trying diffi-
culties ; a live man, a great pathologist, a good talker, and
a great operator. Arldt, the ophthalmologist, a tall, slen-
der man, impressed me very favorably ; he was surrounded
by a group of interested students, and evidently knows
what he is about. Hebra, the dermatologist, had hardly
half a dozen attendants ; he is a short, thick-set man, with
dirty fingers and a dress a good deal the worse for wear ;
in a word, he is anything but neat in his person ; and
during the hour I spent in his ward I did not become at
all pleasantly impressed by his manner or his appearance.
Of his skill as a diagnostician ever^'body must be convinced,
seeing how" great is his experience ; but, from what I have
seen of his writings, I have no hesitation in saying that he
has done more than any living authority to confuse the
study of skin diseases. His treatment, moreover, of many
of those affections seems to me to be too purely local, or,
in other words, not sufficiently addressed to the constitu-
tion, upon the derangement of which they so often de-
pend.

An opportunity was afforded me during my short stay at
Vienna of renewing my acquaintance with Dr. Neudorfer,
Surgeon-in-Chief of the Austrian army in Mexico. I had
met him a year or so previously in Philadelphia, and had
it in my power to show him some attention, which he
kindly reciprocated on this occasion. I found him in a
small room in the suburbs of the town, busily engaged
upon his work on Military Surgery', embracing an account
of the results of his observations in Mexico, one volume of
which had already appeared. I called at the residence
of Professor Von Pitha, joint editor with Billroth of the
Handbuch der Allgemeinen und Speciellen Chirurgie, a
g^eat work still in course of publication, but found to my
I — 29

226 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

regret that lie had gone to some watering-place in search
of health and recreation.

The physicians and obstetricians of Vienna rank among
the most illustrious medical men of the past and present
generation. The names of Skoda, Oppoltzer, Tiirck,
Czermak, Braun, Sigmund, and many others are known
everywhere in association either with important discoveries
or with the advances of scientific and practical medicine.
Hyrtl is widely recognized as a g^eat anatomist. His
celebrated museum, the work of a lifetime, and now in
the possession by purchase of the College of Physicians
of Philadelphia, abounds in specimens of the choicest
character, displaying an amount of labor and patience in
their preparation of an almost miraculous nature. The
dissections of the internal ear alone must have cost him
years of toil. His treatise on Surgical Anatomy, one of his
later productions, is highly appreciated for its sterling ex-
cellence. It is by the exertions and genius of such men
that the University of Vienna has achieved a reputation
surpassed by no medical school in the world.

My recollection of the Austrian capital will always be
green and pleasant ; for, although it was not in my power
to accept any hospitalities, I was brought into contact with
men with whose reputation and deeds I had long been
familiar, and whom, therefore, I was glad to see. Several
years prior to my visit the Royal Medical Society of Vienna
had done me the honor to elect me an honorary member.
A notice of my treatise on Pathological Anatomy had
preceded me.

The General Hospital is an immense edifice, founded by
the Emperor Joseph II., arranged in quadrangular form,
supplied with all the means and appliances for efficient clin-
ical teaching, and capable of accommodating more than
three thousand patients. The number of admissions an-
nually amounts to nearly thirty-five thousand, embracing,
of course, all kinds of diseases and accidents to which

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 227

flesh is heir. Such an enormous field, properly cultivated,
cannot fail to produce useful results in developing great
practitioners of the healing art, and in throwing vast light
upon pathology and therapeutics. Connected with this
establishment, indeed forming a part of it, is the celebrated
Lying-in Hospital, one of the largest of the kind in the
world, and one which has educated many of the ablest and
most distinguished obstetricians and g}m8ecologists of the
present century. The number of women and children
annually admitted is enonnous. Vienna is famous for its
illegitimate births ; and one, if not the principal, reason
of this is the fact that no questions are asked of any of the
women upon their entrance into the institution. They
may enter veiled or masked, and even their names need not
be known, unless they are in danger of dying, when their
names are inclosed in a sealed envelope to be opened only
by their nearest relatives. No persons, except the phj'si-
cian and nurse, are admitted to them, and when their con-
finement is over they are discharged in the usual manner,
leaving the child behind them to be bound out at a certain
age, if not called for. Such conduct on the part of the
authorities is, in my opinion, anything but praiseworthy,
inasmuch as it affords a powerful incentive to the grossest
immoralit>^ All that a bad woman has to do, when she
gives way to her passion, is to conceal her shame in such
an asylum, and to repeat the offence at the next opportu-
nity, satisfied that her family, her friends, and the public
will remain alike ignorant of her conduct. It is said that
the principal purpose of this secrecy is to prevent infanti-
cide, which would otherwise be of very frequent occur-
rence !

The Military Hospital at Vienna is a large, old build-
ing, capable of accommodating several hundred patients.
It is a government institution, devoted exclusively to the
treatment of wounded soldiers, and affords a fine field
for the study of military surgery, especially in times of

228 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

war. Pitha and Neudorfer have each a service in this
hospital.

We left Vienna, July 7th, for Dresden, crossing the
Danube, a shallow, quiet river, a little wider than the
Schuylkill at Philadelphia. The countr>' for many miles
along the route was flat and highly cultivated, and ever>'-
where studded with fields of wheat, rye, and oats. The
people were busily engaged in harvesting, and we noticed
that many of the laborers were women, reminding us of
what was formerly so common in harvest time in the Ger-
man settlements of Pennsylvania. The cradle and the
sickle were the only agricultural implements employed.
Of reaping-machines we saw no sign. A considerable por-
tion of our road passed through Moravia and Bohemia,
and as the train whirled along, generally at a rapid pace,
we were struck with the paucity of horses and cattle. The
houses for the most part had a very common appearance,
and there were no barns such as one is accustomed
to see in Pennsylvania. At eleven o'clock at night
we reached Aussig, a small village on the Elbe, and on
the next morning at half past six we embarked on a miser-
able little steamer for Dresden. The Elbe, a small river,
with a gentle current, is fringed with high mountains,
many of which are very prominent and imposing. We
passed many towns and villages, some castles, and some
fine private residences, especially as we neared Dresden.
The railway from Prague, which we passed early in the
evening, runs along the left bank of the river. We were
glad when, at two o'clock in the afternoon, we reached
our destination, for despite our wraps we suffered much
from cold, as the air was ver>' damp, and the sun did not
show itself during any part of the day.

Dresden, apart from its great beauty, its elegant society,
its china manufactories, its opera-house, its art galleries,
and its museums, presents no objects of special interest
to the medical man. There is no medical school, and the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 229

hospital I did not visit. The citizens, like those of Vienna,
indulge much in beer-drinking, and for this purpose and
for social intercourse they generally, on a pleasant after-
noon, assemble in crowds at one or more fashionable coffee-
houses, where many of them often remain for hours to-
gether in the open air listening to music and talking over
the news of the day. What interested me most in this
city was the Armor>' , or Military Museum, containing the
most extensive collection in the world of all kinds of
weapons, accoutrements, armor, trappings, and relics of
ancient knights and distinguished warriors. In looking
at the display of pistols one is forcibly impressed with the
conviction that Colt must have visited the armory and bor-
rowed from it the idea of his celebrated revolver, a weapon
in use in Europe nearly two hundred years previously.
With the exception of the lock, there is not the slightest
difference between the foreign and the American revolver —
another proof that there is nothing new under the sun.
The knights in armor, seated upon their fiery steeds with
lance in hand, must have been fierce-looking fellows. In
the same room are to be seen the coronation robes of
Augustus II., King of Poland, a man of gigantic strength,
with his cuirass, weighing one hundred pounds, and his
iron cap of twenty-five pounds, along with the horse-
shoe which he broke with his fingers. One does not forget
to visit the Schloss, or royal palace, to examine its numer-
ous works of art, its vast collection of jewels, which in one
room alone amount in value, it is said, to fifteen millions
of dollars, and the crowns, sceptres, and diamonds worn by
departed sovereigns. A lover of the sublime and beautiful
in art might profitably spend at least three months in
studying the objects of interest that wealth and taste have
accumulated in this little Saxon city. Although the price
of living is by no means cheap, yet such are the varied
attractions of the place, in a social, educational, and
aesthetic point of view, that a number of American fami-

230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

lies have for many years past made it their permanent
home.

The country between Dresden and Berlin is as flat as
a pancake. The soil is very sandy, and the general aspect
is such as to remind one forcibly of the Atlantic borders
of New Jersey. Here and there we noticed a strip of
woodland, covered chiefly with pine trees and small oaks.
Wheat, rye, and oats were the principal field products.
Potatoes were growing in abundance, and in a few fields
there was evidence of an effort to raise corn, which, how-
ever, was ver>' diminutive. Why the people do not culti-
vate watermelons and cantaloupes is a mystery, unless it
is explained by the shortness of the summer. The soil is
certainly admirably adapted to the object. Immediately
beyond Dresden we passed several small vineyards. Very
few orchards skirt the road, but the cherry tree is of com-
mon occurrence, and the fruit is said to be of superior
quality. The windmill is seen in every direction : at one
place there were as many as seven in close proximity one
to another.

Reaching Berlin late in the afternoon, we took lodgings
at Meinhardt's Hotel. Early on the following morning
we found ourselves on the train for Potsdam, where,
in company with Dr. and Mrs. James R. Wood, of New
York, we spent the entire day, visiting Charlottenhof ; the
palace of Frederick the Great ; the palace of Sans Souci,
the beautiful grounds ornamented with fountains and
magnificent shrubbery and orange trees ; the marble eques-
trian statue of the great king, a glorious work of art ; the
towers of Pfingstberg, commanding an imposing view of
the river Havel, of Babelsberg, and of the surrounding
country, with Berlin in the distance ; the Russian colony,
now greatly diminished in numbers ; the house, situated
on a little island in an artificial lake, in which the father
of Frederick the Great used to smoke and to hold his
drunken orgies ; the old palace, containing the writing-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 231

table, chairs, and dining-table of the famous king ; the
Lutheran church, in which, in a marble sarcophagus, lie
the remains of this extraordinary' man ; and, in short,
ever}-thing of interest to the inquisitive tourist. The day
was bright and genial, and one of the most delightful and
enjoyable of our lives. No traveller should fail to visit
this beautiful spot, so full of historical associations.

Many anecdotes are told of Frederick the Great. His
fondness for his dogs and his warhorse led him to make a
request that he should be buried with them — a request
which the good taste of his friends prevented from being
carried into effect. The stor}^ of the windmill has become
classical. The king, wishing to extend his pleasure-
grounds near the palace of Sans Souci, offered to purchase
it. The miller, however, was obstinate in his refusal, and
the consequence was that the matter was carried into court,
in which his majesty was defeated. After the trial was
over the king replaced the old windmill with a more
stately one as a monument to Prussian justice. The
descendants of the original proprietor, having become
financially embarrassed, offered to sell the propert}-, but
the king, upon learning the circumstance, relieved their
necessities, saying that the windmill belonged to Prussian
history.

There were three professional men in Berlin whom, as
their names had long been familiar to me as household
words, I was most anxious to see — Virchow, Langenbeck,
and Graefe. Accordingly, early in the morning of the
second day after our arrival, I went to the Allgemeines
Krankenhaus in search of Virchow, the illustrious patholo-
gist and accomplished statesman, a professor in the Uni-
versity of Berlin, and a member of the German Parliament.
The great man, upon my entrance, was in the midst of
his pupils, engaged in a post-mortem examination. As
my presence attracted some attention, especially on the
part of several Philadelphia students with whom I was

232 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

personally acquainted, I deemed it my duty, although the
moment was not the most opportune, to pass my card to
the professor, at the same time apologizing for the intru-
sion. He at once saluted me with a gracious bow, and,
shaking me cordially by the hand, introduced me to his
pupils and expressed his gratification at seeing me. After
a few minutes spent in conversation, he resumed his knife
and completed his examination. He showed me his lab-
oratory, his lecture-room, and many of his more inter-
esting pathological specimens, most of them prepared
by his own hands. His collection of diseased hearts of
children, the result of inherited syphilis, is the largest
in the world, and as he explained specimen after specimen,
he became not only enthusiastic but eloquent. He also
showed me a large number of preparations of infantile
syphilitic livers, exhibiting the ravages of a poison which
has taken deep root in the human family, and which, if
effectual means be not speedily adopted for its eradication,
is sure eventually to sap the very foundations of the best
society in all parts of the globe.

The laborator}', or work-shop as it may be termed, of
Professor Virchow is a model in its way, admirably
adapted to the wants of the student for improvement in
the use of the microscope and the examination of morbid
specimens, which are passed round in jars or on plates on
a neat little railway carriage, so that every one may have
a full opportunity of inspecting them. Microscopes are
provided in great numbers, and, in fact, every facility is
afforded for the acquisition of knowledge. If the student
does not become the wiser for his labors it is his own
fault, not the fault of his teacher. Such a room with the
necessary appliances ought to exist in every well-organized
medical institution in the United States. An abundance
of material for the successful study of pathological anat-
omy is found in all our larger cities ; and it is only neces-
sary that we should go to work and use it properly for

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 233

the edification of the profession and the advancement of
medical science.

Virchow is a most patient and laborious investigator,
and yet he never seems to be in a hurry. His dissec-
tions seldom occupy fewer than two and a half to three
hours each. Every organ of the body is thoroughly
explored. For years past his habit has been to open,
every Monday morning, a cadaver in the presence of his
private pupils with a view of instructing them in the art
of conducting autopsies — holding the knife, using the saw,
and taking notes, the whole being supplemented by micro-
scopic inspections of the more important diseased structures.
In these dissections he is, if possible, more patient even
than Rokitansky, his great Viennese prototype. For ex-
posing the spinal cord, Virchow employs a double sickle-
shaped saw, eight inches in length — an instrument, I be-
lieve, of his own designing. A work from his pen on
the subject of autopsies was lately issued at Berlin. On
Wednesdays and Saturdays he devotes two hours before his
class to the illustration of pathological anatomy.

Virchow is a thin, slender man, about the medium
height, with a fine forehead, although the head is not
large, and handsome black eyes, concealed by a pair of
glasses. He is deliberate in his movements, a good talker,
very affable, courteous, and warm-hearted — in a word, a
gentleman of the higher t}'pe. In his general appearance
there is nothing at all striking. As a lecturer he did not
especially impress me. His voice is good, and, while his
deliver}' is graceful, he seemed to me to be rather sluggish ;
at all events, without that enthusiasm which one might
expect in so renowned a teacher. In age, at my visit at
Berlin in 1868, he was probably about fifty. In his polit-
ical feelings he is thoroughly republican, and it is said that
Bismarck is more afraid of him than of any man in
the German empire. Early in life, indeed, he was ban-
ished from Berlin on account of his political proclivities,
1—30

234

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

but his great reputation at length induced the government
to recall him, and to reinstate him in his former chair.
Virchow is a hard worker, a close observer, and a philoso-
phical reasoner. He is a good sleeper, and does not trouble
himself about early rising. At his lectures, he is often
behind time, and does not always occupy his hour. He
is a voluminous author, and he may be regarded as the
founder of a new school of pathology and pathological
anatomy. His work on Cellular Pathology and his Lec-
tures on Tumors, two productions abounding in origi-
nal thought and investigation, translated into different
languages, and republished in this country, have acquired
for him a world-wide celebrity. Whatever it touches his
pen adorns. He is a member of numerous domestic and
foreign societies, an associate of the French Institute, and
a member of the German parliament. Europe and America
acknowledge him as the first pathologist of the age.

The evening before leaving Berlin I had the pleasure of
meeting Virchow at his own table, at his elegant residence
in a fashionable part of the city. The gentlemen who were
invited to meet me were, among others. Professor Von
Langenbeck, Von Graefe, the famous oculist. Bonders, the
celebrated ophthalmologist of Utrecht, and Dr. Gurlt, Pro-
fessor of Surgery in the University of Berlin. Our time
was occupied in agreeable and instructive conversation. At
ten o'clock the folding-doors were thrown open, and we sat
down to a bountiful repast. After the viands were pretty
well disposed of, our host, availing himself of a lull in
the conversation, drew forth a large volume from under
the table, and rising he took me by the hand, and made
me an address in Gennan, complimenting me upon my
labors as a pathological anatomist, and referring to the
work, which happened to be the second edition of my
Elements of Pathological Anatomy, as one from the study
of which he had derived much useful instruction, and one
which he always consulted with much pleasure. I need

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 235

not say how deeply flattered I felt by this great honor, so
unexpectedly and so handsomely bestowed upon me by this
renowned man. I felt that I had not labored in vain, and
that the compliment was more than an equivalent for all
the toil and anxiety which the work had cost me.

Of Von Langenbeck I saw much while in Berlin. His
kindness to me was uninterrupted, and was shown in a great
variety of ways. From the cordial welcome which he ex-
tended to me I felt at once as if I had met with an old and
well-tried friend. He invited me to his house, showed me
everything about his hospital, introduced me to his class,
and took special pains to perfonn upon the dead subject
some operations in which he had acquired unusual distinc-
tion. A nej^hew of the celebrated Langenbeck of Got-
tingen, he settled early in life at Berlin, where, after the
death of Johann Friedrich Dieffenbach, he speedily rose to
the topmost round of the ladder. As an operative surgeon,
he enjoys an unrivalled reputation on the continent of
Europe ; and it is questionable whether he has ever had
a superior in this branch of the healing art anywhere — Du-
puytren, Lisfranc, Mott, Liston, Syme, and Fergusson not
excepted. His record is one of which any surgeon may
justly be proud. In his appearance he is remarkable. His
forehead, without being uncommonly high, is well formed,
but the occipital region, near what is supposed to be the
organ of philoprogenitiveness, is of extraordinary bulk, al-
most amounting to deformity. He is tall and rather slender,
and his lower limbs are disproportionately long ; his eyes
are blue, and his features are expressive of intelligence and
courtly breeding. He speaks English and French fluently,
rides in his carriage, and lives in elegant style in the upper
and newer part of the city, a short distance from " Unter
den Linden." Like Virchow he is a hard worker. During
the summer session of the University he invariably meets
his private classes at the General Hospital at six o'clock in
the morning, before many of the respectable citizens of

236 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Berlin have nibbed the dew off their eyes. He generally
passes two hours with his classes several times a week, in-
structing them in the operations on the cadaver, either
using the knife himself, or seeing that it is properly em-
ployed by others. One of the mornings that I spent with
him was devoted to excisions of the joints, every one of
which he performed for my special benefit, pointing out
whatever there is peculiar in his methods. His pupils are
all very fond of him — a circumstance not at all surprising
when we consider the pains he takes to instruct them in
operative and mechanical surgery.

The name of Von Langenbeck is associated with many
of the most wonderful exploits in operative surgery. His
resections, of which he has performed a great number, are
distinguished by their simplicity, by the superiority of the
dressings employed in the after-treatment, and by the fre-
quency with which they are followed by the reproduction
of osseous tissue — due doubtless to the fact that he always
saves the largest possible amount of periosteum. In visit-
ing his wards he pointed out to me three cases of excision
of the shoulder, two of the elbow, one of the wrist, one
of the hip, one of the knee, and two of the ankle, to-
gether with one of the shaft of the humerus and one
of both bones of the leg, the pieces removed being
three inches and a half in length. Of ankle-joint resec-
tions he had had, as he informed me, altogether eighteen
cases, of which nine were traumatic, with one death, and
nine pathological, of which one ended fatally and two re-
quired amputation. In all such operations, as well as in
recent fractures, whether simple or compound, he applies
at once a ver>' thick, immovable plaster of Paris splint,
provided with fenestra for facilitating drainage. In the
case of the knee he employs a posterior iron splint, with a
handle in front for lifting and moving the limb — a very
useful contrivance, worthy of general adoption. At the
time of my visit he had performed, with good results, four

SAMUEL n. GJ?OSS, AI.D. 237

amputations of the thigh, with the periosteum drawn over
the end of the bone, one of the cases being under treatment
at the tim.e. In flap amputations he uses stitches, but no
plaster or bandage, and places the stump upon a hollow
cushion of gum elastic, inflatable at pleasure, the dis-
charges being received underneath in a plate filled v/ith
powdered charcoal. He showed me a child, five and a
half years old, in whom he had successfully closed, two
weeks before, a large fissure in the hard palate by lateral
flaps ; and also a young man from whom he had removed
a retropharyngeal polyp through the upper jaw, dividing
this bone through its ascending process and immediately
above the roots of the teeth, along with the zygomatic
process of the temporal bone, an oval flap of skin having
previously been reflected towards the temple. Although
but little blood was lost, the patient looked very bad,
and his life was in imminent jeopardy. Langenbeck in-
formed me that he had performed excision of the rectum
in sixteen cases, and in only one of these had life been
prolonged to the end of the fifteenth month.

It struck me as extraordinary that a surgeon so judi-
cious, experienced, and well-read should prefer the high
or suprapubic operation for stone in the bladder ; and yet
he informed me that it had hitherto been his favorite
method, as he had performed it altogether thirty times.
"Inasmuch, however," he significantly added, " as I have
lost all my adult patients from pysemia, at periods varydng
from eight to twelve weeks, I no longer resort to it except in
children." He cut a child eighteen months old according
to this vile method, making an incision at least three
inches in length along the middle, and dividing some of
the fibres of the straight muscles to relieve tension. The
bladder was opened very cautiously, an index finger was
inserted into the organ, and the calculus, which consisted
of uric acid, one inch long by five-eighths of an inch in
diameter, was extracted with the scoop. Having introduced

238 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

a narrow strip of muslin into the wound with one end pro-
truding, he sewed up the skin and sent the little patient to
bed, A small boy who had been lithotomized by this
method nearly two months before was still suffering under
an open wound at the time of my visit. Had he been sub-
jected to lithectasy, or to the ordinary lateral section, I ven-
ture to say that the poor little fellow would have been on
the street weeks sooner. The reason why he prefers the
suprapubic method is that, as he alleges, it prevents in-
continence of urine and injury to the ejaculatory ducts —
two ridiculous and fanciful objections according to my
own experience and that of the profession generally. He
candidly confessed that the wound is always very long in
healing.

In conversing with this great surgeon respecting extir-
pation of the tongue for the relief of cancer, he told me
that he had had one case, that of a man sixty years of age,
in which he removed the entire organ, excepting a little
of its posterior border, the patient surviving the operation
for two years, during which he enjoyed excellent health
with the power of articulation and tolerable speech. The
operation included the division of the symphysis of the jaw
and the removal of the sublingual and submaxillary
glands, the former on both sides.

Durinof the late Franco-Prussian war Von Langenbeck
acted as Surgeon-in-Chief of the Prussian army, and added
new lustre to his name. Although no longer young, he is
a man of wonderful activity, both physical and mental.
He has long been the editor of what is known as Langen-
beck's Archiv fiir Chirurgie, and he has been a copious
contributor to the medical press, although he has not pub-
lished, as far as I am aware, any express treatises on sur-
gery. He is a member of many learned societies, both
native and foreign. Surgeon to the Emperor, and Professor
of Surger}' in the University of Berlin. He has been the
recipient of numerous decorations.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 239

Albrecht von Graefe, whose acquaintance I made the
second day after my arrival at Berlin, but who, much to
the regret of all Germany and of the medical profession
generally, died in July, 1870, within two years after my
visit, was one of the remarkable men of his day. As
an ophthalmic surgeon and as the inventor of certain oper-
ations, now in common use, he was for years without a
rival in Europe, attracting patients and pupils from all
parts of the civilized world. Tall and slender, yet grace-
fully built, he was a man of winning manners, amiable in
a high degree, with the simplicity of a child. His counte-
nance had so mild and benevolent an expression that he
was known in the streets of Berlin as the Christus, in ref-
erence to his resemblance to some of the pictures of Christ
by the older masters. Every one loved him. Although
he was hardly forty years of age at the time of my inter-
view with him, his hair, which he always wore long, was
already white, and his whole appearance indicated that he
was incessantly overworked, and destined, as the result has
only too clearly shown, to be short-lived. He had about
him an appearance of everlasting unrest. He was quick in
all his movements, almost as nimble as a cat, and was never
longer than a few minutes in the same place. Up early in
the morning, and until a late hour at night, driving like a
Jehu through the rough streets of Berlin, and performing
daily an astonishing amount of labor, it was evident alike
to friend and stranger that he coiild not long endure such
wear and tear of mind and body ; that sooner or later he
must sink under their effects. Expostulation and reason-
ing were of no avail. He was a doomed man. The only
recreation which he ever took was a brief visit to Paris, or
to some watering-place, where, it is true, he always ob-
tained a change of air and scene, but no substantial repose
for his exhausted powers. Pulmonar}' phthisis, the result
probably of an hereditary taint, at length overtook him,
soon after the close of the forty-second year of his age.

240

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Graefe was of Polish descent, a native of Berlin, and a son
of Carl Ferdinand von Graefe, a celebrated professor and
practitioner, long a resident in the Prussian capital, and
the surgeon who, next after Valentine IVIott, tied the in-
nominate artery. It is said that the son early in life dis-
tinguished himself by his literary, mathematical, and sci-
entific attainments. In 1856 he was appointed Professor
of Ophthalmology in the University of his native city. He
also gave private instruction, had a large eye clinic, and
was the author of numerous papers upon his specialty,
published mainly in the Archiv fiir Ophthalmologic, issued
at first in his name, and subsequently with the assistance
of Arldt and Bonders.

As a lecturer, Graefe was entertaining and instructive.
He talked rapidly, but connectedly, and constantly re-
ferred to his blackboard and to his cases to illustrate his
remarks. His students, nearly one hundred and fifty in
number, were very attentive, many of them being engaged
in taking notes. On the day preceding my last visit to his
clinic I saw him operate six times for strabismus, and ex-
tract six cataracts and one cysticerce, the specimen of
which, put up in diluted alcohol, he kindly presented to
me, and which is, after many years, still in my possession.
The subject of this singular disease was a married woman,
pregnant, twenty-nine years old, whose sight had been
gradually diminishing for more than eighteen months.
The entozoon, without the aid of a magnifying- glass, was
distinctly visible in the lower part of the posterior cham-
ber of the eye, and appeared to be a large opaque body,
the movements of which could be plainly seen with the aid
of the ophthalmoscope. Latterly it had occasioned a good
deal of pain. The operation was performed under chloro-
form, and was attended with great difficulty, as Graefe was
obliged, so to speak, to fish for the entozoon. The case
happened to be his one hundred and twenty-first. Profes-
sor Donders, the celebrated ophthalmologist of Utrecht,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 241

who was present, said that he had never met with this kind
of entozoon in Holland. In Prussia, on the contrary,
where the common people eat a great deal of badly-cooked,
almost raw, pork, it is found quite frequently.

Von Graefe told me that he had extracted nearly three
thousand cataracts, with a loss only of from three to three
and a half per cent. He often operates on both eyes in
immediate succession. He fixes the organ with a screw
speculum, pinches up the conjunctiva with a toothed
spring forceps, held by an assistant, and performs what is
known as the upper section with a very small knife, the
sclerotica being embraced in the incision ; separates the
lids, and drawing out a piece of the iris, snips it off with
the scissors ; removes the speculum and forceps, lacerates
the capsule, and presses out the lens with a curette ; adjusts
the edges of the wound with the greatest possible care,
all blood having previously been removed, not only from
between them, but also from the anterior chamber of the
eye ; finally, the eye is covered with a layer of gauze or
cribriform muslin, upon which is piled a mass of soft
charpie, confined with a narrow flannel roller, drawn quite
firmly. At a late hour of the night, generally from ten to
twelve, the operation in summer being usually performed
from four to six o'clock in the afternoon, Graefe invariably
visits his patient and takes off the dressings to see that all
is well — a proceeding nowhere practised in this country.
Such interference, indeed, would be regarded among us as
eminently officious or meddlesome. No anodyne, as a
rule, is administered after the operation, which, in his
hands, is seldom followed by unpleasant nervous symptoms.

Graefe was the inventor of iridectomy for the relief of
pain in glaucoma and the prevention of undue inflamma-
tion after the extraction of cataract. At first sight it
seems revolting to one's sense of propriety to mutilate so
important a structure as the iris for such an object, and
yet the operation for cataract is now so generally per-

243 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

formed after this method that its benefits must be fully
conceded. As an earnest and successful cultivator of
ophthalmolog}', it is impossible to lay too much stress
upon the labors of this wonderful man. He found oph-
thalmology nothing but a mass of blind empiricism, and
at the end of twenty years, the close of his useful life, he
left it a science and an art in advance of every other branch
of surgery. Graefe was not only a great worker, but he
possessed the happy faculty of inspiring his pupils with
unbounded enthusiasm, which, carried away with them
to their homes in different parts of the world, has been
productive of incalculable good.

Dr. Gurlt, who was of the party at Virchow's, is a son
of the Director of the celebrated Veterinary College of
Berlin, and the author of a valuable work on fractures
and of an atlas of hospitals and ambulances. He is one
of the professors of surgery in the University, and a man
of mark, although in point of reputation he is not equal
to any one of the illustrious triumvirate above noticed. He
is a short, stout man, of prepossessing appearance, and
a hard worker. At the time of my visit he was engaged
upon the composition of an exhaustive treatise on pyaemia.

Donders, whose name is so well known in this country
in connection with his able work on refraction and ac-
commodation, is a most genial, pleasant gentleman, cor-
dial in his manners, tall, with fine, expressive features,
black hair and eyes, and a hale, robust frame. He is an
excellent talker, and speaks German, French, and English
fluently. He was said to be fifty years of age, although,
judging from his looks, one would not suppose him to be
over forty.

Of the physicians of Berlin the only one whom I saw
was Dr. Frerichs, the Professor of Clinical Medicine in
the University, and the author of the celebrated treatise
on Diseases of the Liver, translated by Dr. Murchison,
and published under the auspices of the Sydenham Society

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 243

of lyondon. He is a man of medium stature, with a good,
intelligent face, and a ready talker, apparently deeply
interested in his subject. At his clinic, which I attended
one morning, I counted one hundred and ten students,
many of whom were busily engaged in taking notes. The
case w^hich the professor was expounding was one of car-
diac disease attended with ascites and swelling of the lower
extremities. The examination was a thorough one, and
impressed me very favorably with Frerichs as a clinical
teacher. The room in which the exercises were conducted
was small and badly lighted, and the seats were not suf-
ficiently raised for seeing.

The medical department of the University of Berlin
has forty-eight instructors of different grades, many of
them being simply assistants, while others are private
teachers, delivering lectures to small classes of students.
In point of fact these young men occupy pretty much the
same rank as what are known among us as "quizzers,"
except that they are much better educated. Some of
the lectures are delivered in a large building, formerly the
palace of Prince Henry, brother of Frederick II. On the
opposite side of the street, in the grounds belonging to the
great hospital of La Charite, is the pathological museum
in charge of Virchow. The hospital is one of the largest
in the world, and annually admits more than ten thousand
patients. Every facility is afforded by the public authori-
ties to the medical attendants for the study of disease and
injury and for the thorough instruction of the medical
students.

The University of Berlin, founded in 1810, is one of the
greatest educational institutions in Europe. Its corps of
teachers numbers nearly tw^o hundred, and embraces many
of the ablest scholars and scientists of the present day.
Indeed, the University has been a kind of centre around
which have revolved during the present century many of
the master-minds of Germanv. In medicine the world has

244

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

produced no greater or more illustrious men than Sclionlein,
Jiingken, Miiller, Dieffenbacli, Langenbeck, and Vircliow ;
or than Humboldt, Mitscherlich, and Ehrenberg in natural
science ; Schleiermacher and Neander in theology ; Sav-
igny and Gans in jurisprudence ; Von Raumer and Ranke
in history ; Encke in astronomy ; or than Fichte, Hegel,
and Schelling in speculative philosophy. Art too has found
a new home in this beautiful city. Many of the finest pic-
tures in Europe are to be seen in its galleries ; and the
Egyptian Museum contains the richest collection of its
kind to be found anywhere. The Royal Library em-
braces upwards of five hundred thousand volumes, and the
University more than one hundred thousand, for the
special use of the professors and students. With such
facilities for the acquisition of knowledge, it is not sur-
prising that Berlin, comparatively young as it is, should,
in a literary, scientific, artistic, and educational point of
view, be one of the first cities in the world. The more
modern portions contain many beautiful private resi-
dences, some of them of almost palatial grandeur. The
most fashionable street, called "Unter den Linden," al-
though ver}^ broad, and nearly a mile in length, presents
few attractions, as many of the houses are old and dirty-
looking, and most of the trees from which it is named
have a withered appearance. With the exception of
Philadelphia, I know of no city that is worse paved.
Berlin owes much of its architectural beauty to the taste
and genius of Schinkel, Ranch, Winckelmann, and
Schadow, whose services are commemorated by marble
statues placed under the portico of the Museum of An-
tiquities. The equestrian statue of Frederick the Great is
in "Unter den Linden," opposite the emperor's palace.
It is of bronze, is of colossal size, and is one of the most
magnificent monuments in Europe.

An excursion to Charlottenberg, which few tourists
omit, brings one to the small Doric temple, in a lovely

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 245

garden, in which repose the remains of Frederick Wil-
liam III., and of his beautiful queen, Louisa, buried
thirty' years earlier. Their persons are represented by
marble figures with folded hands, lying side by side upon
marble sarcophagi, the whole being regarded as among
the masterpieces of the celebrated Ranch. At the feet
of the group is the heart of Frederick William IV., in-
closed in a marble casket, and on each side is a white
marble candelabrum, that on the right representing the
three Fates, and that on the left the three Muses. A walk
through the pines and the orangery affords additional
interest to the scene, and ser\'es to dispel the melancholy
occasioned by the contemplation of the royal monument.

During this visit it was my pleasing duty, as President
of the American IMedical Association, to be the bearer of
a letter from that body to Professor Christian Gottfried
Ehrenberg, congratulating him upon the fiftieth anniver-
sary of his entrance upon his professional career as a
physician, and upon his wonderful achievements as a
scientist in developing and extending our knowledge of
insect life, which until his time had been an untrodden
field. Unfortunateh', however, he was out of town for
change of air on account of ill health, and I therefore
missed the pleasure of seeing him. This circumstance
compelled me to write him a letter, which was afterwards
published in pamphlet fonn, along with another addressed
to him by Agassiz, Gould, Dana, Torrey, and other distin-
guished scientists, and also with a short poem from the
prolific and facile pen of Oliver Wendell Holmes. Pro-
fessor Ehrenberg acknowledged my own communication in
a letter written in Gennan, of which I subjoin a translation :

••T T. Berlin, March xo, 1860.

Much honored President: ' -* ' ^

Sir : The congratulations sent to me by my colleagues
in North America, on the occasion of my fiftieth anniversary as
a physician, should have long since induced me to return you my

246 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

particular thanks in writing. It is true that last year I requested
Mr. Bancroft, your Minister at Berlin, to return to you my thanks
preliminarily; but now that fortunately, by the help of our healing
art and science, I am again enabled to write for a longer time, I
shall not omit to send you a few words of thanks in my own hand-
writing for your indulgent opinion of the doings of my life. To
you and your whole fatherland, so full of liberal and fresh thoughts,
I wish a success ever increasing in strength and health. May God
bless all those who, in profound research ever augmenting, and with
a clear, ruling, godly spirit, join in the universal effort, and endeavor
to obtain blossoms and fruit, though they should be fully enjoyed
only by coming generations.

With thankful regards, your most obedient

Dr. C. G. Ehrenberg.

S. D. Gross, M. D.,

President of the American Medical Association.

The following is an extract from my letter : ' ' Your
fame as a g^eat scientific discoverer and as an indefatigable
student of nature has long been familiarly known in the
United States, and has produced for you numerous followers.
In your hands microscopic researches first assumed a defi-
nite and distinct character, and revealed to the admiring
gaze of the world many new fields of inquiry, since so
successfully trodden by others. The infusoria, under the
influence of your plastic genius, became for the first time
in our knowledge a new link in the scale of animated
beings, and a new source of wonder and admiration of
that great and beneficent Being who holds the universe in
the hollow of His hand, and who is the Creator alike of the
smallest atom of matter, invisible to the unassisted eye,
and of our glorious globe, the abode of myriads of human
beings. ' '

At the time I sent my letter to Ehrenberg he was
afflicted with blindness.

CHAPTER IX.

FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN — GOETHE — HOMBURG — THE KURSAAL — HEIDELBERG

THE UNIVERSITY — THE HIRSCHGASSE — ^THE CASTLE — INSTRUMENTS OF TOR-
TURE— CHELIUS — MAYENCE — COBLENTZ — EHRENBREITSTEIN — BONN — THE UNI-
VERSITY— COLOGNE — THE CATHEDRAL — SAINT URSULA — AIX-LA-CHAPELLE —

CHARLEMAGNE ROTTERDAM AMSTERDAM THE PUBLIC HOSPITAL — THE

MEDICAL SCHOOL — BOERHAAVE — ^ANTWERP — RUBENS — BRUSSELS — HOSPITALS
— VESALIUS.

The ride between Berlin and Frankfort-on-tlie-Main is
long and fatiguing, occupying from ten to twelve hours.
As far as Weimar, which is passed in the early part of the
day, and which has been rendered famous as the residence
of Wieland, Schiller, Goethe, and Herder, the country ex-
hibits very much the same aspect as between Dresden and
Berlin, being flat and sandy, and not particularly attrac-
tive. Beyond Weimar it becomes gradually more undu-
lating and fertile, and so continues as far as Frankfort.
We passed many fields covered with yellow wheat nearly
ripe for the sickle, and as we approached Frankfort the
sight was greeted with beautiful meadows, in some of
which we occasionally noticed a stork, a large, dignified,
apparently self-possessed bird, with a long neck and beak,
well adapted to get the better of a fox in eating out of a
bottle. Frankfort, one of the oldest cities of Germany, is
celebrated as having been the favorite residence of Charle-
magne. Here were crowned its emperors. It is noted for
its numerous banking houses, its great wealth, its educa-
tional institutions, its splendid dwellings, and its magnifi-
cent promenades, unequalled in Europe. In the Juden-
gasse, an old, narrow, dirty street, is the house in which
Rothschild, the father of the great bankers, lived ; and not
far away is the house in which Goethe was born, both

247

248 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

objects of deep interest to the tourist. The monument of
Gutenberg, erected in 1858, stands in the Rossmarkt, and
is in itself worthy of a visit to this ancient city. There
are three principal figures, the central one being that of
Gutenberg, supported on the right by Faust and on the
left by Schoffer. Dannecker's Ariadne is universally ad-
mired as one of the most chaste and beautiful productions
of modem art. A statue of Goethe, erected by Schwan-
thaler, stands in the Goethe square, and is said to be an
excellent likeness of the great author and philosopher.
The most noted public building is the Romer, or council
house, an old edifice, celebrated as the place in which the
election of the German emperors was held. The walls of
the banqueting hall are decorated with portraits of all these
worthies, forty-six in number ; and in the election cham-
ber, as it is termed, is the "Golden Bull" by which the
election of the emperors was regulated.

The house in which Goethe was born is regarded by the
city of Frankfort as one of its most sacred objects, and,
like that of Shakespeare, it will no doubt be preserved with
scrupulous care to the latest generation. Considered by
itself, it is of no account, as it is simply an old, two-story
building, without any architectural beauty, or any special
comfort or convenience. The rooms are small, and the
ceilings very low. Among the relics of the great man
that remain, a leather-covered chair and a few old, well-
worn books are shown. It was from the upper front
chamber of this house that the youth was in the habit of
communicating by signs and other means with Gretchen,
a girl in the humbler walks of life, his first and for a long
time his only love. The father of the poet was the son of
a tailor. By his talents, probity, and industry he rose to
a prominent position among his fellow-citizens, and spared
no pains to give his boy all the educational advantages
afforded by his own and foreign countries. The mother,
too, was a person of more than ordinary intellect. Order,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 249

quiet, and strong common-sense were her characteristics ;
and it is not improbable that the son inherited from her a
large share of the genius which made him the first literary
man of his age.

It was with feelings of no ordinar}^ kind that we left
Frankfort for Homburg, to enjoy a week of absolute repose
at that charming watering-place. We had been constantly
on the wing for more than two months, and as we had
suffered a good deal from the heat, especially during the
last fortnight, we were very anxious to get to a cool, quiet
spot A ride of thirty minutes over a pleasant, undulating
country', nearly all the way in sight of the Taunus Moun-
tains, brought us to our destination. Homburg, a town of
nearly ten thousand inhabitants, is celebrated for its min-
eral waters, its elegant bathing establishments, its hand-
some residences, and its beautiful and picturesque prome-
nades. The Kursaal is a large, elegant edifice, superbly
furnished, and surrounded by beautiful grounds, enlivened
by excellent music. It was the resort for years of fashion-
able people from all parts of Europe, especially of inva-
lids in search of health by drinking its various mineral
waters. Numerous gamblers made the Kursaal annually
their headquarters ; and for many years, much to its dis-
credit, the government received a large revenue from this
source from the lessees of the establishment. Since our
visit, in 1868, the gambling-saloons have been closed, and
the house and grounds have assumed a more respectable
character. Notwithstanding that many of the people who
resort to Homburg possess great wealth, there was a re-
markable dearth of fine equipages, although it was the
height of the season. It was interesting to watch the
gaming-tables, attended indiscriminately by men and
women, old and young, and to observe their countenances
as the little ball whirled around the insatiate wheel, bring-
ing joy to some, and grief to others. None appeared more
excited than the old ladies ; none picked up their ill-gotten
1—32

250 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

gains more eagerly ; and none looked more disconcerted
when they found themselves slighted by Fortune. Consid-
ered all in all, it is difficult to conceive of a more lovely
spot as a summer residence than Homburg.

As the distance from Frankfort to Heidelberg is only
fifty-four miles, we could not resist the temptation to visit
a city so celebrated as the seat of one of the most renowned
universities of Germany, to say nothing of its many ro-
mantic associations. The journey, which occupied only
two hours, extends through a beautiful and highly culti-
vated country, covered with fields of wheat partly in
shocks, and numerous patches of tobacco in a remarkably
flourishing condition. The soil seemed to be very rich,
and the general aspect of the country reminded me forci-
bly of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Ten miles from
Frankfort we passed through the old city of Darmstadt,
and farther along, on our left, a high range of hills, with
now and then an ancient castle. The day — the 23d of
July — was hot and sultry, and the dust annoying.

Heidelberg is situated on the left bank of the Neckar, a
stream about the width of the Schuylkill, and contains
nearly twenty thousand inhabitants. Its position is re-
markably picturesque, being bounded on the one side by
the river, and by high hills on the other. The main
street is very wide, well shaded, nearly two miles in
length. The modern parts of the city contain many
beautiful private residences. The University, founded in
the fourteenth century, is a very old, unprepossessing edi-
fice, which, but for the many classical and endearing asso-
ciations which cluster around it, might well be replaced by
a better and more suitable structure. As it was vacation
season, there were scarcely any students about it. The
library contains nearly two hundred and fifty thousand
volumes, and is particularly rich in antique works, and
in books on theology, jurisprudence, and philology. It
has also many manuscripts. The conveniences for car-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 251

rying on all kinds of studies — literary, professional, and
scientific — are on an ample scale. The number of students
is not nearly so great now as formerly. Its medical de-
partment, especially in the days of Chelius, Tiedemann,
and Gmelin, was at one time one of the most famous in
Germany. That, too, has gone to naught. What agency
the fighting element in the " Burschenshaften," resulting
in frequent duels, has exerted in bringing about this result
is a problem which it is not hard to solve. The conduct
of the authorities who permitted such flagrant outrages
cannot be too severely censured. The ultimate effects
upon the prosperity of the University could not be for a
moment doubted. The practice was a relic of barbarism,
of the most revolting character. In the mean time, while
the custom was sanctioned, and the institution was suffer-
ing from its consequences, other universities sprang into
notice, and naturally attracted students of the better
class. Heidelberg has educated immense numbers of
great men ; and some of our own most distinguished schol-
ars, such as Everett, Bancroft, and Longfellow, are among
its alumni. There seems to be a fatality in the affairs of
scholastic and scientific institutions as there is in the
affairs of families, of communities, and of nations.

The Hirschgasse, the house in which the duels take
place, is situated on the opposite bank of the Neckar, a
short distance below the city. Curiosity led us to visit it.
There is nothing peculiar about it, or anything that would
suggest the idea that it was the frequent scene of such dis-
reputable rencounters. The fighting is usually done with
swords, which are always kept in the best possible condi-
tion for the purpose. When it takes place on account of
feuds existing between different corps, of which there are
not less than six or eight, the combatants wear thick, heavy
caps, and thick bandages round their necks as a means
of protection ; but when they engage on their own account
these trappings are dispensed with, it being considered

252 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

dishonorable to employ tliem. Terrible gasbes, leaving
unseemly scars for the rest of life, are often inflicted, espe-
cially upon the face, and now and then a mortal wound.
The man who receives the least number of cuts is declared
the victor. Sometimes the combat, after having lasted for
an indefinite period, without resulting in a satisfactory
manner, is renewed at a future day, as soon as the parties
are sufficiently recovered from the effects of their injuries.

Next in interest to the University is the Castle of
Heidelberg, noted for its antiquity, its picturesque situ-
ation upon a high hill, its architectural magnificence, and
its historical associations. Originally it v/as occupied
both as a fortress and as a palace. In the latter part of
the seventeenth century it was sacked and partly burned
by the French, and in 1764 it was struck by lightning. It
was an immense structure, and if all is true which is said
of its wine-cellars it must have been the seat of princely
hospitality. Only two of the original thirteen casks re-
main. The celebrated Heidelberger Fass, as it is called,
is said to hold eight hundred hogsheads, or nearly three
hundred thousand bottles of wine. The capacity of the
other is sixty thousand gallons. Close by the larger of
these casks is the wooden statue of the court-fool Porkes,
who daily, on an average, drank from fifteen to eighteen
bottles of wine, and never went to bed sober. On the wall
of the cellar, near the famous Fass, is a box, upon touching
the spring of which a fox's tail flies out. It is one of the
original relics of the place, and, together with the court-
fool, must have been a source of merriment to the people
of the castle.

The IVIuseum, known as the Kunst und Alterthum Halle,
a short distance from the city, interests one very much. It
is filled with ancient curiosities, and is particularly rich
in instruments of torture. A prominent object is a chair,
of peculiar construction, in which the criminal used to sit
while his head was beins: struck off with a broadsword.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 253

The signal for the blow was the ringing of an old hemi-
spherical bell, which was suspended from the wall, and
which emitted a gruff, dolorous sound befitting the occasion.
There is a rack, shaped like a cross, on which the criminal
was stretched beyond his natural length ; and another
for crushing the body and limbs. There are several speci-
mens of thumb-screws, an iron thorn for tearing the flesh
on the back, a whip for flogging persons, and a wheel for
crushing bones. There is also a curious figure with a face
in the shape of a violin, with a hole in the top for the
neck and two perforations for the arms, used for punishing
liars and thieves, who were thus driven through the streets
as a chastisement. Compared with these the whipping-
posts of our Delaware neighbors are playthings. In
the armory in the upper room of the museum I noticed
two revolvers, each with a lock and flint, manufactured
more than two centuries ago. In looking at these weapons
one could not help exclaiming, " Long live Colt !" Among
other curiosities in this remarkable building are garments
of an old robber, who killed twelve soldiers before he was
captured by the elector's guards.

A visit to the Molkenkur, a large house upon the sum-
mit of the high mountain back of the castle, for treat-
ing invalids with buttermilk, repays one by the charming
views which it affords of Heidelberg and the surroundina:
country, — the Neckar, as it winds for miles, like a ser-
pent, towards the Rhine ; the two banks of that beautiful
river clothed with verdure and magnificent graperies ; the
Rhine itself at a great distance ; the grand old bridge across
the Neckar almost in the heart of the city ; and the hills
and fertile plains as far as the eye can see. A drive of
two miles brings one to the Wolfsbrunnen, where, as the
story goes, the enchantress Jetta was torn to pieces by
wolves — a romantic spot, more famous at the present
day for its fine trout dinners than for its witches and
wild animals.

254. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Before bidding adieu to this delightful city I spent
an hour with the eminent surgeon Maximilian Joseph
Chelius, with whose name and fame I had long been
familiar, and between whom and myself there had been
an interchange of civilities. He received me with courtly
dignity, and soon entered into an animated conversation,
in which he particularly inquired after Dr. Gibson and
Dr. Miitter, with whose scientific labors and contributions
he seemed to be perfectly familiar. His residence, near
the bank of the Neckar, is almost palatial, and is sur-
rounded by beautiful grounds and shrubbery, the whole
exhibiting great taste and refinement. Without asking
him, he told me that he was seventy-four years of age,
that he had resigned his chair in the University several
years ago, and that he was now living in retirement. For
the last forty years, he said, he had spent a part of every
summer at Baden Baden, within three hours' ride by rail
of Heidelberg. Tall, erect, with a handsome, benevo-
lent face, and black eyes, he was remarkably well pre-
served, and looked as if he might live to a very old age.
IMy expectations were not disappointed. In August, 1876,
the telegraph brought me an account of his death, at the
age of eighty-two years. The obituary notice states that
he was a native of Mannheim, in the Grand Duchy of
Baden, where he was born in 1794. He was elected to
the chair of Surgery at Heidelberg in 1819, at the age
of twenty-five, and in 1843-45 published his celebrated
Handbuch der Chirurgie, translated into numerous lan-
guages. An English version by the late INIr. South, of
London, enriched by extensive additions, was republished
in Philadelphia many years ago under the supervision of
the late Dr. George W. Norris. Besides this work, Chelius
produced at an early period of his life a Treatise on the
Eye, and he was also a copious contributor to the periodical
press. He was one of the great pillars of the medical
school of Heidelberg. He obtained his medical degree

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 255

when he was only eighteen years of age. Before he settled
at Heidelberg he had j^ractised his profession in different
towns, and was for a time physician to the hospital at
Ingelstadt in Bavaria. His experience was greatly ex-
tended by accompanying the German army into France,
and by visiting the hospitals and universities of Vienna,
Gottingen, and Berlin. Owing to his great accomplish-
ments as a surgeon and as a physician, and to his high
social position, he attracted around him for nearly half a
centur>' much of the best practice in Northern Germany.
During the illness of the young Prince Imperial he was
summoned to Paris to consult with Nelaton and others
respecting the nature and treatment of his disease. When
I rose to depart, the veteran surgeon warmly pressed my
hand and thanked me for my visit.

The ride from Frankfort to INIayence by rail occupies
twelve minutes and extends over a pleasant, highly-cul-
tivated countr\^, which, in the neighborhood of the latter
cit}'', is one great field of grapevines ; from these are manu-
factured the sparkling Hock and Moselle, so celebrated
throughout Europe. Taking our passage on board the
Mayence and Cologne steamer, a small boat with an open
upper deck, somewhat like what one sees in the United
States, we floated down the Rhine as far as Coblentz, where
we disembarked to view that venerable city, as well as
Ehrenbreitstein, perched upon a high and rugged hill
immediately opposite, the two being closely connected by
a bridge of boats nearly four hundred yards in length. On
our right, as we descended the river, was pointed out to
us the celebrated castle of Johannisberg, the residence of
Prince Aletternich, to whom it was presented by the
Emperor of Austria. It is here that the famous Johan-
nisberger wine is made, the vineyard covering only thirty-
eight acres. About three miles farther down, on the same
side of the river, is Riidesberg, also celebrated for the ex-
cellence of its wine. The grapes grown at these two spots

256 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

owe their superior quality, it should seem, to the fact that,
in pleasant weather, the sun from the time it rises until it
sets never leaves them, thus giving to the soil the warmth
and fertility so essential to the culture of this fruit.

Coblentz, founded a short time before the Christian era,
is situated at the confluence of the Rhine and Moselle,
and abounds in historical associations. It is the seat of a
palace occupied as a summer residence by the emperor,
and has the finest wnne-cellars in Germany. The streets
are, for the most part, narrov/ and uninviting. Some
fine private dwellings are to be seen in the newer parts
of the city, and there are several excellent hotels on the
river bank opposite Ehrenbreitstein. Every stranger of
course visits the Church of St. Castor and the celebrated
Castorbrunnen, erected in 181 2 by the French prefect in
commemoration of the French campaign against Russia,
and rendered famous by the sarcastic inscription of the
Russian General St. Priest, who recaptured the city in
January, 18 14. Close by is a fine view of the Moselle and
of the beautiful valley through which it meanders just be-
fore it empties into the Rhine.

Ehrenbreitstein, often called the Gibraltar of the Rhine,
is so famous in history and romance as to be of itself
almost worthy of a visit on the part of the American
tourist. Everybody, far and wide, has heard or read of
it in novels and the illustrated annuals which were once
so fashionable. The officer in charge, learning that we
were from the United States, the land of Washington, was
particularly courteous and communicative. He pointed
out to us every object of interest in and about this cele-
brated fortress, and the spots whence we could behold to
the greatest advantage the surrounding country with its
glorious scenery and its two beautiful vine-clad rivers
lying immediately at our feet, with the fertile valleys
through which they run, and the numerous villages, hills,
and mountains which dot the landscape in every direction

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 257

as far as the eye can see. Our visit was made on a
bright afternoon in July, and the very atmosphere seemed
to be redolent of joy, so genial and pleasant was everj^-
thing around us. Two more agreeable or happy hours I
never spent.

The next morning, Sunday, at nine o'clock, we found
ourselves on the steamer on our way to Bonn, intending
to stop there a few hours, and then to proceed to Cologne.
As we passed along we found the shores lined with people,
and at one of the towns we saw a large Catholic procession
with a boy carr}'ing the Host before him upon a high pole.
I never witnessed a more merry company. Song and mirth
in various forms were evidently the order of the day, and
the Saviour, represented by the image, was treated in
the most unceremonious manner. Just here a little dis-
covery was made which completely changed our plans for
the day. One of our party, much to her consternation,
found that she had left her purse, freighted with gold
coin, at the hotel under the pillow of her bed. Em-
bracing the earliest opportunity to go ashore, she took the
train which soon after came along for Coblentz, and within
less than an hour reached the Giant, where she had slept
the previous night. Making known her loss, the chamber-
maid was summoned, the fact disclosed, and the purse with
its contents restored, greatly to the joy of all concerned.
I am induced to mention this circumstance simply to con-
firm, what I believe is generally known, that the ser-
vants at the German inns are, as a rule, very honest and
trustworthy.

Bonn, nearly midway between Coblentz and Cologne,
is interesting chiefly on account of its old Minster Church,
its well-organized Universit}'', its splendid avenues shaded
by double rows of horse-chestnut trees, and its scientific
and literary society. The University, founded by the King
of Prussia in 18 18, is one of the most celebrated in Ger-
many. Its Faculties are extremely able ; and the number
1—33

258 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of students is considerably over one thousand. The build-
ing, which was formerly occupied as a palace, and in which
are commodious and well-arranged lecture-rooms, is nearly
a quarter of a mile in length. Attached to it are a museum
of Rhenish antiquities and a library of nearly two hundred
thousand volumes. At the time of my visit, preparations
were in progress for the celebration, on the 2d of August,
of the fiftieth anniversary of the University. The medical
department has long been in a flourishing condition, and
a number of the teachers enjoy a well-earned reputation.
It was my good fortune to meet, among others, one
of the most distinguished members of the Faculty, Dr.
Busch, the Professor of Surgery and the Director of the
Surgical Clinic, with whom I passed a very pleasant hour,
the conversation relating chiefly to medical education in
Germany and the United States. On taking my leave he
kindly placed in my hands a number of brochures and
pamphlets, written by himself, upon various subjects con-
nected with surgery. The great composer, Beethoven,
was a native of Bonn, and a beautiful bronze monument
is erected to his memory in the heart of the city. Bonn
affords a fine view on the bank of the river of the villages
of Konigswinter and Drachenfels, especially of the latter,
situated, as the name implies, upon a rock, nearly nine
hundred feet above the level of the Rhine. The slopes
of the rock are covered with vineyards, one of which con-
tains the cavern once occupied, as the story goes, by the
dragon slain by Siegfried, the hero of Holland, who,
having bathed himself in the monster's blood, became
invulnerable. The wine yielded by the grapes grown upon
Drachenfels is known as the Dragon's blood.

The Rhine beyond Bonn loses its interest. Its banks are
flat and destitute of beauty. It was late in the evening
when our boat, crowded to excess, landed at Cologne.
Soon after we left Bonn the moon rose in all her grandeur
and threw her bright rays in beautiful images upon the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 259

water. The passengers were merry, and while many of
them engaged in loud conversation, not a few amused
themselves with singing religious or national songs.

Arriving at Cologne, we selected the Hotel du Nord as
our temporary resting-place, and, after an early breakfast,
the next morning we sallied forth sight-seeing. The chief
objects of interest in this old city, now containing nearly
one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, inclusive of
seven thousand soldiers, are the Cathedral, Dom, or Minster
of St. Peter, St. Ursula, the Giirzenich, the iron bridge
across the Rhine nearly fourteen hundred feet in length,
the Museum of Roman Antiquities, and the botanical and
zoological gardens. The Cathedral, one of the finest speci-
mens of Gothic architecture in the world, although begun
in the middle of the thirteenth century, is still unfinished,
notwithstanding several millions of dollars have been ex-
pended upon it during the last fifty years by the German
rulers and the friends of the church in different parts of
Europe. Numerous workmen were busily engaged upon
it at the time of our visit. The structure, which stands
upon a slight eminence a short distance from the river, is
more than four hundred and fifty feet in length by one
hundred and forty in width, the portion appropriated to
divine serv'ice occupying an area of seventy thousand
square feet. The two towers when completed will each
be five hundred feet high. What the good citizens of
Cologne want with so gigantic an edifice it would be
difficult to conjecture, unless it is their desire to be con-
sidered the most holy people in the world, a thing which
every one who has had any dealings with them would
.find it hard to believe, since, even as respects the special
liquid prepared in the city, all tourists are cautioned to
buy at one house only, the article sold by all the rest being
declared to be spurious.

St. Ursula is one of the wonders of the world, a perfect
Golgotha, literally a place of skulls and other bones, ar-

26o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

ranged in cases in every nook and corner round tlie cliurch.
The sight is not only horrid, but excessively disgusting,
even to an anatomist accustomed to the handling of dead
bodies. These hideous relics are said to be the bones of
eleven thousand virgins, who accompanied St. Ursula,
daughter of the King of Brittany, on a pilgrimage to
Rome, on returning from which they were foully mur-
dered by the Huns. How these bones were prepared
for this unique museum is a mystery. The church in
which they are contained was erected at the beginning of
the twelfth century. In the choir is a monument in honor
of St. Ursula, who was shortly after her death enshrined
as the patron saint of Chastity. It would be very difficult,
if not impossible, at the present day, to get together such
a collection of virgins in any part of Europe or this coun-
try. Other relics are to be seen in this remarkable place,
such as earthen vessels used by the Saviour at the mar-
riage in Cana ; a part of the chain with which St. Peter
was bound ; and a fragment of the garment worn by Christ
at the crucifixion.

The hospital at Cologne is a large, well-arranged edifice,
in charge of the Sisters of Charity. It is surrounded by
handsome grounds, set out in shrubbery, and is under
the supervision of an able staff. On the road to Aix-la-
Chapelle I saw a man who, twenty years previously, on
account of a railway injury, had one arm and both legs
amputated at the same time by Dr. Fischer, the eminent
surgeon of Cologne, the fellow recovering, as he told me,
without a bad symptom. This result, of which there are
several cases on record, among others one by the late Dr.
Koehler, of Schuylkill Haven, Pennsylvania, is a triumph
of surgery. As if to cap the climax, Dr. Begg, of Dundee,
Scotland, in 1869 amputated all the extremities of a
young woman, the subject of embolic gangrene. She not
only rapidly recovered, but is able to walk with the aid of
crutches and to earn a livelihood by knitting and by vari-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 261

ous other kinds of work. She feeds and dresses herself,
and even writes an excellent hand ! Is there really any
use for hands and feet ?

Aix-la-Chapelle, a beautiful old town, with many hand-
some modern improvements, is celebrated as the birthplace
of Charlemagne, as the city in which for several centuries
the German emperors were crowned, and as a watering-
place, famous for its hot sulphur springs and bathing
establishments. Persons suffering from gout, rheumatism,
neuralgia, and constitutional syphilis resort to it from all
parts of the civilized v.'orld in quest of health. The water
is strongly impregnated with sulphur, and as it issues from
the wells is disagreeably hot. The new Kursaal is close
by, and is provided with pleasant grounds and prome-
nades. It is a curious as well as a sad sight on a fine day
to see the cripples hobble about, some on sticks, some on
crutches, and others on disabled limbs, wincing and writh-
ing under their aches and pains as they go along. The
Cathedral, an old massive structure, remodelled in the
present century, contains the tomb of Charlemagne and
numerous sacred relics — such as a robe of the Virgin Mar}%
the leathern girdle of Christ, a part of the true cross, and
the bloody cloth in which the body of John the Baptist
was wrapped after his execution. These relics are publicly
exhibited every seven years with great pomp and cere-
mony, and attract vast crowds of people, by whom they
are regarded with sacred awe. Among other objects of
interest in this church are the skull of Charlemagne, one
of his leg bones, and his hunting-horn. Evidently the
German people have a great fondness for storing away
and looking at dead men's bones. In the United States
all such objects are regarded with well-merited disgust.
Even Byron's celebrated drinking-cup would here find
few admirers and still fewer purchasers.

The country between Aix-la-Chapelle and Rotterdam
is mostly flat, especially that part of it which lies at

262 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

some distance beyond the former city, and it is, in the
main, quite uninteresting. From Antwerp to Rotterdam
the journey is made partly by rail and partly by boat, on
the river Meuse, and occupies four hours and a half. The
track rests upon sandy soil, upon a dead level, the whole
bearing a strong resemblance to that between Camden and
Atlantic City or Cape May. The steamboat was small,
dirty, and uncomfortable, without any of the conveniences
found upon our Delaware or Hudson River vessels. The
Meuse is a wide, deep, magnificent stream, abounding
in fish, especially salmon and sturgeon, both of which
are taken in large quantities. The harbor of Rotterdam
reminds one of that of New York. It is of considerable
extent, and at the time of our visit it contained a number
of large and small vessels, which gave the wharf a very
lively appearance. It is a notorious fact that Rotterdam
has not one respectable hotel. The house at which we
stopped, said to be the first in the place, was decidedly
untidy and unattractive, and would hardly have compared
favorably with the meanest hotel in any of our inland
towns. Rotterdam is a seafaring place, overrun with sail-
ors, and this is probably the reason why the accommo-
dations are so indifferent. The two objects worthy of
special notice in the entire city are the house in which
Erasmus was born, and the monument erected to his mem-
ory in the market-place. The figure is that of a student
in gown and cap, with an open book in hand.

The ride by rail from Rotterdam to Amsterdam occupies
two hours and twenty minutes, and extends over a level
country dotted by windmills and intersected by numerous
dykes, not a fence being visible on the entire route. The
fields were enlivened by numerous cattle and sheep, many
of the former being white and black, and comparatively
few being brown. The crops consisted chiefly of oats,
buckwheat, and potatoes — wheat and rye being rarely ob-
served. Beautiful fields of red clover, similar to our own,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 263

also greeted the eye. Vety few trees, and those generally
of small size, were seen. Amsterdam affords a great con-
trast to Rotterdam. The latter is barren of interest ; the
former abounds in it, and the tourist consequently leaves it
with regret. In many respects Amsterdam strongly resem-
bles Venice. It is a city emphatically built upon piles,
intersected by canals and covered with bridges, the latter
numbering nearly three hundred, many of them being
handsome and costly structures. The hotels, unlike those
of Rotterdam, are on a large and elegant scale, and an en-
tirely different atmosphere pervades the place. Many of
the streets are wide, and flanked by fine dwellings built in
the modem style ; while nearly all the older residences are
faced with gables, similar to the houses one still sees at
Albany and other Dutch towns in New York. The harbor
is excellent, and covered with ships trading with all parts
of the w^orld, and returning laden with the harvests of
other climes. Amsterdam is one of the richest cities in
Europe. The manufacture and sale of diamonds are car-
ried on here on a large scale by the Jews, of whom there
are not less than twenty thousand, living chiefly in the
more dirty and obscure parts of the city. Some of the
finest pictures in the world, chiefly by Dutch and Flemish
artists, are to be seen here. The Banquet of the Civil
Guard by Van der Heist, in the Museum, comprising
twenty-five lifelike portraits, is of itself worth a visit to
Holland. The older Dutch masters excelled in the deline-
ation of animals and birds. Many of these portraits are so
true to nature that we are literally entranced by the sight,
and ready to afiirm that the real object is before us.
The lion roars, the tiger growls, the wolf grins, the fox
looks stealthily at his victim, the turkey struts and gob-
bles, and the peacock, proud of his plumage, expands his
tail and erects his head. The scene is enchanting, and
the eye, as it turns away, instinctively looks back to take
another glance.

264 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Amsterdam is celebrated for its many educational and
charitable institutions. The Royal Academy of Fine Arts,
founded in 1820, has a large number of pupils, and has
been of great service in diffusing a taste for painting and
sculpture. In passing through the streets one is struck
with the remarkable absence of poverty and dissipation.
A ragged child or a drunken person is a rare sight.
Among the great men born in this city may be mentioned
Spinoza, Swammerdam, and Admiral De Ruyter, who
burned the English fleet at Chatham. Swammerdam, who
was born in 1637, was one of the greatest anatomists and
entomologists of his day ; and the works of few philoso-
phers are better known or more highly appreciated than
those of the Dutch philosopher. The tombs of De
Ruyter, and of Van den Vondel the famous Dutch poet,
are in the New Church, as it is called — a grand structure,
founded at the beginning of the fifteenth century. The
house in which the admiral was born stands on the wharf.
A statue of Rembrandt is situated in a conspicuous part
of the city.

One of the great objects of interest to me at Amsterdam
was the Public Hospital, one of the neatest and best venti-
lated establishments of the kind I have ever seen. It con-
tains more than six hundred beds, most of which were
occupied. The floors were singularly clean, and there was
an entire absence of odor. Every ward has a gallery —
an arrangement, I believe, peculiar to this institution,
and of course necessitating a high ceiling. The surgical
ward was under the charge of Professor Telanus, a tall,
elderly, agreeable gentleman, assisted by his son. He
seemed to be much interested in his patients, and took
great pains to point out to me the more important cases.
Among others he showed me two of elephantiasis: one was
just admitted ; the other had been for a fortnight under
treatment by compression of the femoral artery with a
ten-pound weight kept up for half an hour at a time

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 265

thrice daily, the effect being a marked diminution of the
size of the limb. He also showed me a case of recurring
chondroma in a boy thirteen years of age, situated on the
left side of the face, for the cure of which he had, two
years previously, amputated the upper jaw. The lad was
very pale and greatly emaciated, and the countenance hor-
ribly disfigured, the mouth being drawm towards the right
side and the left eye completely out of its socket. Death
would have been a great relief to the poor fellow.

The ]\Iedical School of Amsterdam, in which Dr. Tela-
nus is the Professor of Surgery, was founded about forty
}'ears ago, and does not seem to be in a flourishing con-
dition, as the classes are very small. It has a respect-
able pathological museum, and ample material for thor-
ough instruction in clinical medicine and surgery. The
centres of medical teaching in Holland are Leyden and
Utrecht ; the former at one time had the most celebrated
medical institution in the world. Holland in the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries produced a number of
great anatomists, physicians, and surgeons, as well as
many distinguished medical teachers. Herman Boer-
haave, born in 1668, was one of the greatest physicians
that ever lived. Able, learned, eloquent, and of in-
defatigable industry, he acquired at a comparatively early
age a world-wide reputation, and attracted to Leyden a
large number of students from all parts of Europe, and
not a few also from America. As an evidence of his great
celebrity, it is recorded that a letter written in China with
the simple superscription, "Herman Boerhaave, Europe,"
readily reached its destination. Among his more illustri-
ous pupils, the disseminators of his doctrines and practice,
may be mentioned Haller, Van Swieten, Gaubius, and Van
Haen.

Amsterdam has several large bookstores, in which I
found translations of the works of Prescott, Motley, and
other American authors. I am indebted to Holland for a
1--34

266 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

translation of my System of Surgery, made by Dr. I. D.
Saclise, a naval surgeon, the first part of which was issued
at Nieuwediep in 1863.

The great attraction at Antwerp is the Cathedral, one
of the grandest church edifices in Europe, nearly five hun-
dred feet in length by two hundred and fifty in width, with
a steeple variously estimated at from three hundred and fifty
to five hundred feet in height. It is said that nearly eighty
years were occuj)ied in its erection. Apart from its vast
size and architectural elegance, it is famous the world over
for containing Rubens' s wonderful picture of "The Descent
from the Cross," the chef-d'' ceuvre of that artist. The fig-
ures are drawn with matchless force and expression, and
the whole scene is placed so vividly before the eye that
one is almost compelled to regard it as a reality. Rubens
was a native of Antwerp, and the house in which he was
born was long preserved as an object of curiosity. A beau-
tiful monument of the artist is contained in the Cathedral.
The figures in his "Holy Family" are said to represent
himself, his two wives, his son, his father, and his grand-
father. On each side of the picture is a statue in white
marble of one of his female descendants, who died, respec-
tively, in 1834 and 1835. In a retired part of the great
church a young man, bom without arms, and holding his
brush between his toes, was busily engaged in copying
the Holy Family, working, apparently, with facility.
The picture was not completed, but promised well, and
the artist is regarded as an excellent painter. The city
is celebrated for its many magnificent churches, all con-
taining paintings by such Flemish artists as Van Dyke,
Rubens, Jordaens, and others. Many choice specimens
are also found in the Museum, one of the most cele-
brated in Europe.

The fortifications of Antwerp are two miles or more in
extent, and the harbor is one of the finest in the world.
During its best period, in the fifteenth and sixteenth cen-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 267

tunes, it was visited by a greater number of vessels of
large tonnage than any other city in Europe. The prin-
cipal street, called Rue de ]\Iere, is lined by magnifi-
cent shade-trees, and is noted for its elegance. The
older houses are all built with the gables towards the
street, and many of them present a fine appearance.
The stranger, in passing along the wharv^es, is attracted
by the sight of many enormous draught-horses, almost
of gigantic stature, and of Normandy descent, and he
asks himself the question, "Why is this breed of horses
not introduced extensively into the United States ?' ' Such
animals, which by the way are a great curiosity to a for-
eigner, could not fail to be of immense service, especially
in our larger cities in connection with heavy dray-work.

A ride of one hour, on July 30th, carried us from Antwerp
to Brussels, the distance being only twent}^-seven miles.
The country' along the route is quite level and highly
cultivated. It is covered with rich fields of clover,
wheat, potatoes, and various kinds of vegetables, exhib-
iting a superior style of farming and of horticulture.
Brussels, as ever>^body is aware, is one of the most beauti-
ful cities in the world, a second Paris in miniature. The
older streets are narrow, and the houses are built in the
Dutch or Flemish style ; but the new streets are noted for
their width, and the modern dwellings for their elegance.
The population is rapidly increasing, commerce is uncom-
monly active, the people are refined and cultured, and
there are few signs of idleness and intemperance. The
University, founded in 1834, is one of the best organ-
ized institutions of the kind in Europe. Its four de-
partments of literature — or belles-lettres, law, medicine,
and science — are supplied with able teachers, many of
whom enjoy a wide celebrity. The observatory' is one of
the finest in the world. The public librar}' contains
more than two hundred thousand volumes. The botan-
ical gardens are large, attractive, and beautifully situated,

268 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

affording charming promenades in pleasant weather. The
Medical School annually educates a considerable number
of young men, who receive their clinical instruction at
two large and well-arranged hospitals, the St. Pierre and
St. Jean, under the supervision of eminent professors. The
examinations for the degree of doctor of medicine, which
were going on during my visit, are conducted with great
rigor — the requirements, like those in Paris and in Europe
generally, being of a high standard. The St. Pierre con-
tains three hundred and fifty beds, and is remarkable for
its cleanliness and thorough ventilation. Dr. De Rue, in
charge of the surgical ward, was kind enough to point out
to me many cases of deep interest. I had felt a great de-
sire to see Professor Uytterhoeven, between whom and
myself some letters had passed several years previously ;
but, much to my regret, he was out of town. I was
anxious to see the lithotomist who had extracted the largest
calculus ever removed from a human subject ; and although
the man died on the eighth day after the operation, I
have always considered the case as one of the triumphs
of surgery. It is worthy of notice that the stone weighed
more than two pounds, and that it was nearly seven inches
in length by four in breadth, and nearly two and a half in
thickness. It was extracted by the suprapubic method.

One of the most interesting objects in Brussels to a
medical man is the bronze statue of Vesalius, erected un-
der the auspices of Leopold I. , in the Place des Barricades.
The figure is beautifully posed, and is arrayed in a flowing
robe, with pen in hand and a folio volume under the left
arm. Underneath, on the pedestal, is the inscription :
" Andreoe Vesalio, Scientiae Anatomise Parenti :" (To An-
drew Vesalius, the Father of the Science of Anatomy.) It
is an honor of no ordinary character that a king, absorbed
in the cares and duties of statecraft, should have turned
aside to prompt the erection of such a memorial in honor
of a member of the medical profession. The history of Ve-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 269

salius is remarkable. Bom at Brussels in 1514, he studied
medicine at Ivouvain, ]\Iontpellier, and Paris, paying espe-
cial attention to the structure of the human body, of which
his knowledge was so vast that when scarcely twenty-six
years of age, he was appointed professor of Anatomy in the
University of Pavia, from which he was soon afterwards
called to that of Bologna, and finally to that of Pisa. In
1543, at the age of twenty-eight, he published his great
work on anatomy, entitled De Corporis Humani Fabrica,
pronounced by Senac as the discovery of a new world, and
by Haller as an immortal production, which completely
revolutionized all that had been written and published
upon the subject The story of his residence at Madrid,
v/here he was physician to the emperor, Charles V.,
and afterwards to Philip II., is well known. Having,
it is said, opened the body of a nobleman, one of his
patients, he found to his own horror, as well as to the
horror of those around him, that the heart was still pul-
sating. The report was at once carried to the court ; and
thence to the Inquisition, which denounced him as guilty
of murder ; and it was only through the intercession of
powerful friends that his life was spared, and then only on
condition that he should perform a pilgrimage to the Holy
Land. However this may be, a story at best of a very
doubtful character, it is certain that he visited Jerusalem,
and that on his return he died of starvation in the island
of Zante, as is generally supposed, the vessel on which
he was a passenger having been wTecked in the Mediter-
ranean. A more reasonable conjecture, I think, is that
he went to the Holy lyand of his own accord, being incited
thereto by his roving, restless disposition, combined with
a strong religious sentiment tinctured with a spirit of
fanaticism peculiar to the period in which he lived. His
death occurred in 1564, at the age of fifty years.

Brussels was at one time largely engaged in the book-
publishing business. Works issued in Paris were exten-

270 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D.

sively reprinted, and, on account of their cheapness from
the absence of copyright, met with a rapid sale. An
appeal by the authors, whose rights were thus seriously
infringed, induced the French government to put a stop
to the practice by the establishment of an international
law. The effect of this wholesale piracy must have been
highly prejudicial to the development of native writers.
Of late years the literature of Belgium has assumed a very
creditable rank in nearly all the pursuits of life, and its
Academy of Sciences is doing a great deal of useful work.
I must not forget to mention that before leaving for
England we spent a most charming day in visiting Water-
loo, the scene of the great battle which decided the fate
of Europe.

CHAPTER X.

OXFORD— THE MEETING OF THE BRITISH MEDICAL ASSOCIATION — STRATFORD-
ON-AVON — CAMBRIDGE — THE UNIVERSITY — NORWICH — THE BRITISH ASSOCIA-
TION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE — THE NORFOLK AND NORWICH
HOSPITAL — MR. PARTRIDGE — LONDON HOSPITALS — LEEDS — YORK — EDIN-
BURGH— JAMES SYME — JOHN BROWN — SIR JAMES Y. SIMPSON, BART. — THE
UNIVERSITY — GLASGOW — COURTS OF JUSTICE — NORMAN MACLEOD.

We left Brussels on Tuesday, August 5th, for London,
by way of Calais. The Channel was crossed in two hours
on a miserable little boat, but as the sea was perfectly
smooth there was hardly any seasickness. As for our-
selves, we escaped completely, notwithstanding our re-
markable predisposition to it — a circumstance due in some
degree to the fact that we remained perfectly quiet, and
for the most part recumbent during the passage. A
great crowd awaited us at the wharf at Dover, and some
time elapsed before we could be transferred to the train.
The Chalk Cliffs, rising several hundred feet above the
level of the water, appeared unique and interesting.
The track was bounded on each side for many miles
by immense fields of hops, cultivated for the London
breweries ; but as we neared the great city these were
replaced by fields of grain and vegetable gardens in a
high state of improvement. The soil, in the hop region
as it may be called, is underlaid by beds of chalk, with
frequent outcroppings, which impart to the surface a sin-
gular aspect. Soon after reaching the Victoria Station we
took the train for Oxford, where we arrived at half past
nine in the evening. As I was a delegate to the British
Medical Association, which met the day before, I imme-
diately sent my card to Professor Acland, the president,

271

2/2

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

wlio in his reply begged me to join the Association at
breakfast, at eight o'clock the next morning, in one of the
public halls. Upon entering I found nearly all the seats
of the large room occupied, every man being fully intent
upon his knife and fork. The entertainment, viands and
all, was cold and formal, without conversation or hilarity,
the merest matter of business imaginable, at four shillings
a head. The meeting was largely attended — a number of
prominent Continental and American physicians, among
others J. Marion Sims and J. Fordyce Barker, being pres-
ent. I presented my credentials in due form. During the
morning two elaborate papers were read — one, the address
in medicine, by Sir William Gull, of London ; and the
other, the address in physiology, by Professor George
Rolleston, of Oxford. The opening discourse, by Pro-
fessor Acland, had been delivered the day before, and had
elicited much applause. The Sections were well organ-
ized, and performed a great deal of useful labor.

The same day I dined with Dr. Leighton, the Vice-
Chancellor of the University of Oxford, in company with
a number of distinguished gentlemen, such as Dr. Locock,
the Queen's accoucheur; Professor Syme, of Edinburgh;
Mr. Thomas Curling, Sir James Paget, Professor Acland,
and the Rev. Dr. Liddell, Dean of Christ Church — in all
about twenty. There were many dishes, and an abun-
dance of choice wine, all well served. The conversation
was animated and discursive, but rather staid, as per-
haps became the occasion. In the evening I attended
an immense party given by the citizens of Oxford to
the members of the Medical Association at the newly-
erected Museum, a grand edifice surrounded by beau-
tiful grounds. There must have been present fully
fifteen hundred persons of both sexes, besides many dis-
tinguished strangers. The hall was crowded to excess.
Everybody seemed to be full of happiness. The re-
freshments were simple, consisting of ice-cream, water-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 273

ices, and cake, enlivened by the wassail-bowl, charged
with claret punch, and circulating freely from mouth to
mouth, a custom more honored, one would suppose, in the
breach than in the observance. The occasion was one
long to be remembered. Of the Museum in which this
meeting took place mention will be made in another part
of the volume.

The anniversary dinner of the Association came off on
Thursday evening in the great banqueting hall of Christ
Church. The entertainment was rendered particularly
dignified and impressive by the old pictures hung every-
where upon the walls, and representing many of the dig-
nitaries in church, in state, and in literature of bygone
days. Professor Acland occupied the chair, and in a few
remarks, after the cloth was removed, referred in handsome
terms to the foreign delegates. I had the good fortune to
be seated upon the platfonn next to Sir James Paget, and
immediately opposite Professor J. Hughes Bennett, of Ed-
inburgh, the author of the celebrated treatise on clinical
medicine. A number of speeches were made, most of
them concise and in good taste. The best of all was
that of Sir James Paget, one of the most ready and felici-
tous speakers I have ever listened to. As the senior of
the American delegates, it devolved upon me to reply to
the toast offered by the chair in honor of our profession,
a duty which I performed with much diffidence, sur-
rounded as I was by so august and learned an assembly.
During my remarks I spoke of the efforts that we were
making to establish a national medical literature, and to
the obligations we were formerly under in this and other
matters to our European brethren. As I proceeded I heard
' ' Hear ! hear ! ! " on every side, and I was happy to find
that my little speech was well received. In the exercises
of the evening were included songs from a choir, in
which many of the company joined ; and the hilarity was
kept up until a late hour of the night, every one going
1—35

274 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

away well satisfied with himself and with the occasion.
Not fewer than two hundred and fifty sat down at table,
each paying a guinea. Among the distinguished gentle-
men present were William Stokes, of Dublin, Locock,
Syme, Sir William R. Wilde, and the venerable Dr. Jelf,
formerly Principal of King's College, London, with many
of the more prominent younger members of the English,
Scotch, and Irish profession.

On Friday evening I had the pleasure of dining with
Dr. Church, a Fellow of one of the colleges, and one of the
physicians of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, a gentleman
rapidly rising in his profession. The company was small,
and among the guests were Duchesne, of Bologne, the
writer on nervous diseases ; Professor Rolleston ; and Dr.
Victor Cams, of Dresden. It was near midnight when we
found ourselves on the way to our lodgings, the evening
having^ been a most charming- one.

From Dr. Rolleston, the Professor of Physiology in the
University, we received much kind attention. He lives in
a beautiful and retired part of Oxford, in an elegant house,
surrounded by large and pleasant grounds, and furnished
with a choice library. His amiable and excellent wife is
the daughter of Dr. John Davy, and a niece of the great
Sir Humphry.

Having spent six days very pleasantly at Oxford, we
next wei;t to Leamington, a ride of two hours by rail, in-
tending on the morrow to visit Warwick Castle, Kenil-
worth, and Stratford -on -Avon, the birthplace of the
"deer-stalker." The sun rose bright and beautiful, and
after an early breakfast we were soon on our way to visit
scenes with which we had been acquainted through reading
alone. Everything pertaining to these places is replete
with interest and instruction, but to attempt any connected
narrative of them after the numerous accounts that have
been published would be absurd. Warwick is well worth
a visit, if it were only to look at its many splendid paint-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 275

ings by some of the great masters of the seventeenth and
early part of the eighteenth centuries ; and Kenihvorth,
as everybody knows, has been sung in poetry and immor-
talized in prose. It is a grand old relic, whose broken,
iv>^-covered walls alone remain to remind one of its former
greatness and diversified fortunes. The day was still young
when we reached Stratford-on-Avon, and after refreshing
ourselves at the famous Red Horse, the principal hotel,
we sauntered forth to take a look at the house in which
Shakespeare first saw the light. The entrance fee was six-
pence for each. What interested us most was the inscrip-
tions of the names of visitors on the walls and on the low
ceilings, grouped so closely together in most places as to
leave hardly anywhere a white spot the size of a grain of
wheat. It seems as if every fool that comes along must
leave his mark, and America is not behind the rest of the
w^orld in this respect. Shakespeare died in April, 1616,
and was buried in the chancel of the little church near the
bank of the Avon. The stone placed over his grave bears
the following inscription :

" Good frend for Jesus sake forbeare,
to digg t-e dust encloased heare :

BlESTE be - MAN - SPARES THES STONES,
Y Y

And curst be he - moves my bones."

One can hardly suppose that this injunction of the
great poet was dictated by fear of falling into the hands
of the resurrectionists. Anatomy was little cultivated
in that day, and such men as body-snatchers were un-
known. *

* In 1883 an attempt was made to obtain possession of Shakespeare's skull
with a view of forming some estimate of the size of his brain, and the effort, so
degrading in its character, was foiled only by the interference of the mayor and
town council of Stratford.

276 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

The Red Horse is now familiarly known as the Wash-
ington Irving Hotel, from the fact that the author of The
Sketch Book spent some days there. In the parlor is the
arm-chair in which he sat while a guest in the house ; his
name engraved on a brass plate. Another object of in-
terest is the poker with which he stirred the coal in the
grate.

The next objective point of our tour was Cambridge,
and we were fortunate on reaching Oxford to find that v\'e
should have Professor Humphry of the former city as our
travelling companion. Our ride extended over a countr}'
of no special interest, and we were glad when we reached
our lodgings at the famous Bull, the principal hotel of
Cambridge. The day after our arrival we dined with Dr.
Humphry and his family at his country^ residence a mile
beyond the town, and had a delightful evening, diversified
by conversation and music. The doctor is Professor of
Anatomy, human and comparative, in the University, and
Lecturer on Clinical Surger}' at Addenbroke Hospital, so
called in honor of its founder. It was opened in 1770, sup-
ports one hundred and thirty beds, and is beautifully situ-
ated on the main street. The front yard is adorned with
shrubbery and flowers, and ever>'thing about and within it
indicates care and neatness. Dr. Humphry showed me
through his wards, and pointed out to me many cases of
interest. His treatment is characterized by simplicity.
He gives very little medicine, and he possesses great judg-
ment and dexterity as an operator. He has had forty-nine
resections of joints. He mentioned to me a case in
which he cut a man five times for stone in the bladder.
A sixth operation was performed upon this patient at
Norwich, but with a fatal result. He often applies no
dressings whatever to wounds made in operations, trusting
altogether to drainage and cleanliness for success.

The medical school of Cambridge, like that of Oxford,
is very small, the number of pupils hardly reaching thirty

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 277

annually. This is due to the overwhelming competition
of the London colleges. Most of the Cambridge students
are University graduates, and very few of them remain
longer than one year, at the end of which they go
to some metropolitan school to attend the hospitals and
to take their degrees. The Anatomical Museum con-
tains many valuable preparations of healthy and morbid
structure, the former having lately been augmented by
the collections of Dr. MacCartney, of Dublin, and Dr.
Robert Lee, of London. The specimens of Dr. Lee com-
prise the elaborate dissections of the nerves of the heart
and of the uterus, in the preparation of which that gentle-
man spent many of the best years of his life.

The great attraction of Cambridge is of course its Uni-
versity, made up of seventeen colleges and halls. Of these
colleges Trinity, "the noblest institution of the kind in
the kingdom, if not in the w^orld," was founded by Henry
VIII. in 1546, and has educated some of the greatest
scholars, statesmen, philosophers, poets, prelates, and
scientists in Great Britain, such as Newton, Bacon,
Raleigh, Dr}'den, Barrow, Porson, Byron, Macaulay, Pea-
cock, Sedgwick, Whewell, and Tennyson. The building
is arranged in the form of a quadrangle, and occupies
an immense space. The origin of the University, accord-
ing to some writers, dates as far back as 630 ; but this is
probably a mistake, as the oldest college, Peterholme, was
not opened until 1257. The University Library, a beau-
tiful edifice, contains about four hundred thousand vol-
umes, with a great number of manuscripts, and is said to
be particularly rich in early English works. Its interior
is adorned by a number of busts of illustrious men, and
by a beautiful statue of Byron, which is famous alike as
a work of art and as having been rejected by the Uni-
versity of Oxford on account of his lordship's supposed
immoral character.

Cambridge is situated on the river Cam, whence its

278 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

name, and is embosomed in stately trees, which almost
conceal it from the surrounding country. It has a popu-
lation of about thirty thousand. Besides its college build-
ings it has a splendid Senate House for the use of the
University, and the Fitzwilliam Museum, which contains
valuable pictures and a collection of antique marbles,
plaster-casts, coins, manuscripts, and other objects of
interest well worthy of a protracted visit.

In walking through the suburbs of this beautiful town
one afternoon my attention was attracted by a large en-
graving which, upon further inspection, proved to be a rare
print illustrative of the Revolution of Paris in 1793. The
owner asked six shillings, which I promptly paid, for what
I justly considered a treasure. It represents some of
the scenes which occurred when the canaille of Paris
broke into the wine-cellars of the wealthy citizens, and
drank to such excess that, in their wild delirium, they
poured the liquor into one another's throats, hung one
another to lamp-posts, and chopped off one another's heads.

The distance by rail from Cambridge to Norwich is two
hours. The country between the two cities is a flat agri-
cultural district, abounding in Southdown sheep with
black faces and in ordinary cattle. We passed Ely, the
see of the bishop of that name, and saw many windmills,
which became more numerous as we approached our des-
tination. Norwich, with a population of eighty thousand,
is the capital of Norfolk County, and is situated on the
river Wensum near its junction with the Yare. The site
is very hilly, and the streets are short and narrow. The
evening of our arrival was signalized by the opening
meeting of the British Association for the Advancement
of Science in the large town hall in the presence of an
immense audience, the retiring president, the Duke of
Buccleugh, occupying the chair. His grace made a dull,
stupid address. He was followed by Dr. Hooker, the
president-elect, in an elaborate and learned paper, miser-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 279

ably read. A great deal of interest was manifested in the
meeting, which extended over four days. More than forty
Continental delegates were present, and much good work
was done in the different Sections. The old city was ar-
rayed in holiday garb ; and booths and tents, filled with
countr\' produce and all kinds of knickknacks, were seen
in every direction.

Norwich is famous for its Hospital, known as the Nor-
folk and Norwich. It was opened in 1772, and is cele-
brated on account of the great number of calculous pa-
tients admitted into its wards. It is situated upon a small
eminence, on fine grounds, and is one of the neatest estab-
lishments of the kind imaginable. The beds are each
provided with a foot and side drawer, the latter being on
the right side, near the head, an arrangement affording
great convenience. The museum connected with the hos-
pital is a model of its kind, not large but very neat, and
kept in the best order. The walls are adorned by por-
traits of Dalr}'mple and Crosse, the famous lithotomists,
the latter of whom immortalized himself by his excellent
treatise on Stone in the Bladder. Both of these men were
dexterous operators. The collection of calculi exceeds one
thousand specimens, the product of nearly that number of
operations ; these are well preserved, carefully labelled, and
placed in appropriate cases with glass doors. The largest
calculus in the collection weighs fifteen ounces ; it was re-
moved by Hamer, and is described and figured in Gooch's
Surgery. The patient recovered. There is another of six
ounces, of an ovoidal shape, which was expelled spon-
taneously from the bladder through the vagina, and was
followed by recovery. I was shown a specimen of cystic
calculus, formed upon a small oxalate of lime nucleus ; it
was of very soft consistence, and readily crumbled under
pressure. The man was thirty-three years old, and had
been subject to attacks of cystic hemorrhage ; the disease
recurred, and another operation was performed four years

28o AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

after the first. There is a specimen of hypertrophied pros-
tate gland, weighing twenty ounces. The patient, an old
man, was in the habit of relieving himself with the cath-
eter, and one day he pushed the instrument behind the
enlarged organ, between it and the rectum, causing infil-
tration of urine and death. The collection is rich in speci-
mens of all kinds of renal and vesical disease.

Two days after my arrival at Nor\vich I was invited,
with Sir James Y. Simpson, J. Hughes Bennett, Broca,
Baker, Humphry, and others, to witness three opera-
tions for stone at the Hospital — one by Mr. Nicholls on a
boy nine years of age ; and the other two by Mr. Cadge
on old men. One of the latter was cut by the median
method ; the stone, which was fully two inches in length,
was brought away easily, but the wound bled, and had to
be plugged. In the other case of Mr. Cadge the stone was
very brittle, and broke into numerous fragments, thus
prolonging the operation. Lister's tube was used in all
the cases except the boy's to conduct off the urine and pre-
vent spasm. Both operators used narrow-bladed knives.
All the patients, although fully , chloroformed, were tied,
for what reason I was unable to ascertain. Mr. Nicholls
and Mr. Cadge, the latter a pupil and former assistant of
Robert Liston, have each operated nearly one hundred
times with great success. Mr. Cadge occasionally per-
forms lithotrity, but never upon children. He has re-
peatedly practised median lithotomy ; the largest calculus
which he has removed by this method weighed four ounces
and three-quarters. The patient, aged sixty-three, recov-
ered with a rectal fistula. The first operation for stone in
the Hospital was performed by JNIr, Donne in 1772, very
soon after the institution was opened.

Nearly all the calculous patients heretofore admitted
into this Hospital were from Norfolk and Suffolk counties,
especially from the former ; and most of them were adults
and elderly persons. These counties lie along the seacoast,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 281

and are underlaid with chalk. The air is very raw and
damp, especially in winter ; and rheumatism is a prevalent
complaint. IMany of the inhabitants habituall}- void litliic
acid.

During my sojourn in this good old town I dined with
Mr. Nicholls in company w^ith Broca, Baker, Bennett,
Hughlings Jackson, Richardson, Rolleston, Bateman, Rob-
ertson, and others, a large and intellectual company ;
lunched with jMr. and Mrs. Cadge, a cousin of the Quains
of London ; and breakfasted with Dr. Bateman, one of the
physicians to the Norfolk and Non,vich Hospital. I had
met most of the gentlemen who were present at the Nich-
olls's dinner the day preceding. I attended a dinner at
Dr. Eades's ; and a breakfast was given to me by Mr.
Allen, whom I had met shortly before at Oxford. In
fact, I never experienced greater hospitality anywhere.
The physicians and citizens vied with one another to
entertain their visitors.

From the list of professional gentlemen of London
to whom I was indebted for much kindness in 1868, I
must not omit the name of Mr. Partridge, Professor of
Anatomy in King's College, and one of the surgeons of
King's College Hospital, a genial, pleasant gentleman, of
courtly manners and great intelligence. In stature Mr.
Partridge is about the middle height, with black eyes, a
gentle expression of countenance, and a head not indica-
tive of great intellect. As a lecturer, he is popular but
not brilliant, and always commands the attention of his
pupils. He has contributed numerous papers to the med-
ical press; and his articles in Todd's Cyclopedia of Anat-
omy and Physiology are all able productions, mostly of
an exhaustive nature. Mr. Partridge was one of the sur-
geons who went to Italy to examine Garibaldi's ankle
which had received a gunshot wound at the battle of Aspro-
monte in 1862. His attendants, unable to find the ball
or to heal the wound, had abandoned the case in despair.
1-36

282 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Mr. Partridge was equally unsuccessful in liis search, and
was so unfortunate as to express his conviction that no ball
was present. The friends of Garibaldi, not being satisfied
with the views of the English surgeon, sent for Nelaton.
This gentleman, who stood at the head of the surgical
profession in Paris, before setting out upon his mission
consulted an eminent French chemist to ascertain whether
it were possible to devise an instrument which, when
rubbed against lead, would receive the characteristic stain
of that metal. The result was the now famous porcelain
probe — that is, a metallic rod tipped with this substance.
Upon introducing this instrument into the bottom of the
wound, and rotating it roughly upon its axis, the operator
was delighted to find, upon withdrawing it, a bluish spot
upon the porcelain knob, clearly denotive of the existence
of the long-lost missile. The sinus was at once enlarged,
and the ball extracted. The operation was followed by a
rapid cure, with of course permanent anchylosis of the
affected joint. Thus, what one man gained in reputation
the other lost ; and it is not too much to say that Mr.
Partridge never entirely recovered from the effects of his
blunder. The Frenchman, as might have been expected,
went home elated, with an additional ell to his stature,
and thenceforth the name of Nelaton was in the mouth of
everybody.

One afternoon late in August, Mr. Partridge was kind
enough to call for me at my lodgings to drive me to
Shooter's Hill, six miles from London, to examine the
Herbert Military Hospital, erected by Sir Sidney Herbert
during his connection with the British cabinet as Secretary
of War. The hospital, arranged on the pavilion plan, is
a fine structure, erected at great cost, and provided with
six hundred beds, designed exclusively for the accom-
modation of sick and disabled soldiers. The grounds are
large and attractive ; the wards are thoroughly ventilated
and kept in perfect order ; and everything indicates the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 283

care bestowed by a great nation upon its defenders. The
hospital is a monument alike to the memory of Sir Sidney
Herbert and to the munificence of the British government.

I met with ]\Ir. Partridge again in August, 1872, at
Birmingham, during the sitting of the British Medical
Association. He sat with me upon the platform, and
looked as well as I had ever seen him, but he took no
part in the proceedings. Some time after my return, I
learned that he was in declining health, and not long
afterwards that he had died. Judging from his appear-
ance, he must have been my senior by at least six or seven
years.

From ]Mr. Henry Smith, author of a small work on the
Rectum, I received many courtesies during my sojourn in
London, repeatedly meeting him at his own house at
King's College Hospital, of which he is one of the sur-
geons. I saw him perform a number of operations, among
others lithotomy. I was struck with the ability with which
he used the knife. On one occasion he brought before
the class a lad with stone in the bladder. Previously to
cutting him he introduced the sound, but he was unable
to find the stone, although he had several times detected it
before. He handed the instrument to me and to one or two
others ; but as we equally failed, the boy was sent avv^ay
until the following Saturday, when the concretion being
found, he was successfully lithotomized. Mr. John Wood,
another of the surgeons, since appointed as Fergusson's suc-
cessor, I also saw several times, and I witnessed one of his
operations, now numbering more than one hundred, for the
radical cure of hernia, in the treatment of which he has
earned great reputation, although the operation must, I
doubt not, from its very nature, be followed by many re-
lapses. I was surprised to find at this and other London
hospitals a can of hot water still in use for warming adhe-
sive plaster. On this side of the Atlantic the practice has
been long discontinued — alcohol or chlorofonn applied

284 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

upon a sponge having taken its place. In this way the
plaster is instantly softened, and the patient incurs no risk
of being scalded, as he was by the old method.

At Guy's Hospital I was kindly received by Messrs.
Cock, Hilton, Bryant, and Le Gros Clark, the last of
whom took special pains to show me the surgical wards,
the lecture-rooms, and the grand museum, illustrated by
the labors of Sir Astley Cooper, Hodgin, and a host of
able and enthusiastic workers in the interest of healthy and
morbid anatomy. The collections are especially rich in
preparations of the different varieties of hernia, fractures,
and dislocations, and of afifections of the mammary gland.
Clark has added many interesting dissections of the descent
of the testis, and Br}'ant numerous specimens removed
from the living subject with his knife. At the time of my
visit. Cock had opened the bladder through the perineum
iipwards of forty times for retention of urine. Truly a
really skilful surgeon might have done better than this !
The old hospital building has a dirty, dilapidated appear-
ance, wnth low ceilings, and should be replaced by a new
one. The annual income of the institution is nearly half
a million of dollars. A bronze statue of Guy stands in
the front yard of the hospital.

We bade adieu to London on the 8th of September, and
took the train for Leeds, where we arrived at three o'clock
in the afternoon. The day was cold and cloudy, and the
country through which we passed not particularly inviting
to a stranger. I had been induced to visit Leeds mainly at
the instance of Mr. Nunnelly, the eminent surgeon, whose
acquaintance I had formed at Oxford at the meeting of
the British Medical Association, and with whose writings
and reputation I had long been familiar. His work on
Erj'sipelas, the ablest ever published on the subject, had
served to make his name widely known in the United
States. The occasion of my visit was rendered the more
interesting by the fact that the town was full of strangers

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 285

attracted thither by a great fair held for the benefit of the
Leeds Hospital, an immense establishment, erected at an
expense of nearly one million of dollars. No pains had
been spared to render the fair, which was held in the new
edifice, a success, and yet, while it was perfect in all
its details, it was, I was told, pecuniarily a failure. Many
of the finest paintings in the kingdom w^ere on exhibi-
tion, and the display of water-colors by Turner and his
school was indeed most beautiful. Halle, the morning
after our arrival, gave a grand concert, which was largely
attended by a select audience. During the day Mr. Nun-
nelly exsected a mammary gland, an operation in which,
instead of ligatures, he used small compressing forceps for
arresting the flow of blood, four of the instruments being re-
tained in the wound to be removed at the end of forty-eight
hours. He informed me that he had adopted this plan
for several years, in nearly all cases involving extensive
dissection, and that the results had been highly flattering.
In the afternoon he drove me through the town, and
showed me, among other objects of interest, the Leeds
Medical School, one of the best provincial colleges in
England. The building, although small, was well ar-
ranged and well equipped, and seemed to be well adapted
to its purposes. We also visited the old Infirmar}^ the
scene for so many years of the labors and achievements
of the elder Hey and of the elder Teale, men whose
mantles rest gracefully upon the shoulders of their sons.
Bidding farewell to IMr. Nunnelly and his family, we left
Leeds, after a sojourn of two days, for Edinburgh, stopping
on our way to take a glance at the ancient city of York,
so interesting on account of its numerous historical associa-
tions, its grand cathedral founded in 625, Clifford's Tower,
the ruins of St. INIary's Abbey, and its pretty museum
filled with various Roman and Saxon remains. Here we
again had the pleasure of meeting Dr. and Mrs. Acland,
who, like ourselves, were engaged in examining the con-

286 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

tents of this old curiosity shop, as York, from the great
variety of its ancient treasures, may not inappropriately
be called. The day was delicious, and we enjoyed every
moment of it.

We reached Edinburgh at early twilight, Friday, Sep-
tember loth, and took lodgings at the Edinburgh Hotel,
Princes Street, near the station. My first object the next
morning was to call upon Mr. Syme, the celebrated sur-
geon, whose acquaintance I had made at Oxford nearly
two months previously. Fortunately he was already in
his consulting-room. As the servant opened the door he
was standing with his back toward a large fire — for the
morning was unusually chilly for the season — evidently
absorbed in deep meditation ; but the moment he espied
me he approached and extended his hand, cordially
welcoming me to Edinburgh. After an interchange of a
few civilities Mr. Syme said, "Dr. Gross, what are your
plans for to-day ? " In reply I said, ' ' I have come to
Edinburgh to pay you my respects and to see you perform
some operations, to inspect the more interesting objects in
your beautiful city, and to make the acquaintance of the
author of Rab and His Friends." "Very well ; tell Mrs.
Gross I shall be at your hotel at twelve o'clock to drive
you round Arthur's Seat ; and if you will dine with me at
six o'clock this evening you shall see the author of Rab
and His Friends. ' ' Punctually, almost to the minute, the
carriage, drawn by two beautiful gray horses, with a servant
in livery, was at the door of the hotel. The next three
hours were spent in pleasant drives and delightful conver-
sation, Mr. Syme taking particular pains to point out to
us every object worthy of notice, especially the ruins of
Holyrood Abbey, with whose melancholy historical asso-
ciations we had of course been long familiar, but which,
now that we stood upon the very spot itself, were invested
with new and increased interest.

The dinner hour having arrived, we found ourselves at

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 287

Millbank, the county residence of the great surgeon, two
miles from Edinburgh, in a beautiful and quiet spot, situ-
ated upon a sloping hill, laid off in well-arranged terraces,
ornamented with trees and shrubber}^, and furnished with
ample conservatories. Dr. John Brown had already arrived,
and the conversation at once assumed a free and easy char-
acter, without any of the restraint so common even among
well-bred persons who are brought together for the first
time. Mr. and Mrs. Syme presided with dignity, and the
tw-o hours during which we sat at the table passed rapidly
and pleasantly. Dr. Brown was quite agreeable, and con-
versed fluently upon a variety of subjects, but without any
brilliancy, wit, or humor. He was, in fact, rather sedate
than otheruase, as if he might have been somewhat jaded
by the labors of the day ; he talked well, and nothing more.
In stature he is nearly six feet, rather stout, with a lofty but
too receding forehead, and a countenance literally beaming
with benevolence. He well deser\-es the title of ' ' Good
Doctor John," by which he is generally known among the
poorer classes of Edinburgh, many of whom he attends,
pay or no pay.

The story of Rab and His Friends has been widely
read and much admired, and has made the name of John
Brown familiar on both sides of the Atlantic. A beau-
tifully illustrated edition of it was issued some years
ago in Boston. It is said that the entire story was com-
posed at one sitting, and I can readily believe the state-
ment ; for a man who could write so prettily must have
been brimful of his subject. Altogether it is one of the
most pathetic and interesting books in the English lan-
guage, written in a style at once elevated and vivid.
No one can read it without feelings of admiration for the
noble dog, the warmest respect for James, and the deep-
est sympathy for poor Ailie. The surgeon who figures
in the story is no other than Mr. Syme, John Brown's
preceptor and particular friend. Before leaving Edin-

288 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

burgh the author kindly called at our lodgings with a copy
of this work inscribed, "Mrs. Gross, with the author's
compliments, September, 1868." Dr. Brown has written
many stories besides Rab and His Friends, but none which
have been more admired, or which display a finer literary
taste or more happy descriptive powers. His collected
writings are comprised, for the most part, in his Horce
Subsecivce, published in 1858, and embrace a large
amount of valuable and interesting matter, presented in
an agreeable and graphic style. A strain of piety which
well befits the son of a Scotch clergy^man perv^ades all his
writings.

But it is high time to return to our dinner, which,
although now cold, was well serv^ed, and, if not seasoned
with wit and humor, was set off with some choice fruit
from Mr. Syme's extensive conserv^atories. The peaches,
with a skin as soft and delicate as the finest satin, were
delicious, large, juicy, and high-flavored, such as I had not
met with before in Europe ; and the pineapples would
have delighted the palate of a refined epicure. The ba-
nana was not in season, but oranges and lemons graced
the table and hung in beautiful clusters upon the trees.
Mr. Syme was proud of his exotics, and spent daily more
or less time in his greenhouses, which must have been a
source of not a little expense to him. Millbank, when he
purchased it in 1840, was a comparatively unsightly spot,
but taste and money soon improved it, and eventually
converted it into a paradise, fit for the occupancy of the
family of such a man. It was here that he delighted to
entertain his friends, generally limiting himself to a few
choice spirits ; for, owing to his retiring disposition, he
disliked large parties. Prominent strangers, especially
members of the medical profession, always found a wel-
come seat at his table.

Mr. Syme occupied a conspicuous place among his con-
temporaries. In surgery he had no superior, not merely as

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 289

an operator, or as a man skilled in the use of the knife, but
as a surgical pathologist, diagnostician, and therapeutist.
With his great contemporary', Robert I^iston, he shared
the honor of reviving the flap amputation, originally sug-
gested by Lowdham, of Oxford, towards the close of the
seventeenth century ; and with another not less illustrious
man. Sir William Fergusson, the honor of reviving ex-
cision of the joints, until then almost forgotten. He was
the first to perform Chopart's operation in Great Britain,
and he is exclusively entitled to the credit of pointing
out the practicability and safety of amputation at the
ankle-joint, now an established procedure in surgery'.
He revived, and successfully practised in numerous cases,
the perineal section for the cure of callous or impass-
able strictures ; and he was the first in modern times
to lay open the sac of a carotid, an iliac, and a gluteal
aneurism, to turn out the clots, and to apply a ligature to
each end of the diseased vessel — achievements until re-
cently without a parallel in the annals of surgery. The
only operation which I saw Mr. Syme perform during my
sojourn in Edinburgh was that of trephining the tibia for
an abscess in its cavity, in a middle-aged man who had
for fourteen years been a victim to severe neuralgic pain.
The instrument was not in good order, and the operation
was therefore more than ordinarily tedious, although suc-
cessful.

As a writer, Mr. Syme was felicitous, his thoughts being
always well chosen, and conveyed in a clear, terse, vigor-
ous style. He is best known by his Principles of Surgery,
which was published soon after his entrance into the pro-
fession, and which was enlarged and improved in each suc-
ceeding edition. The best edition of his works, embracing
a complete collection of his monographs, was issued by
J. B. Lippincott & Co. of Philadelphia, in 1866, under the
editorial supervision of a former pupil. Dr. Donald Mac-
lean, the present Professor of Surgery at Ann Arbor Uni-
1—37

290

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

versity, Michigan. As a contributor to the periodical press
his pen was seldom idle, and he was for some time editor
of the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal. Early
in life he had a decided taste for chemistry, and made the
important discovery that distilled coal-tar is a ready sol-
vent of caoutchouc, a discovery which was soon afterwards
utilized by Mackintosh in the manufacture of waterproof
cloth. Many distinguished honors were conferred upon
Mr. Syme both at home and abroad. He was Surgeon-in-
Ordinary to the Queen in Scotland, member of the General
Medical Council, and for nearly a third of a century Pro-
fessor of Clinical Surgery in the University of Edinburgh.
In stature he was about the middle height, well-formed,
with a countenance somewhat indicative of melancholy.
In his younger days he must have been a handsome man.
It has been said that Mr. Syme was not amiable, and, con-
sidering the many quarrels in which he was engaged, we
find some ground for such a statement. His biographer,
Dr. Robert Patterson, asserts that he was a somewhat
peculiar man, with much acuteness and sagacity, and
quite obstinate. It must be remembered that the medical
polemics of the Scotch capital was for a long time in the
worst possible condition ; that there was often great jeal-
ousy among rival candidates for office ; and that Mr.
Syme was not unfrequently a target for bitter and un-
founded innuendoes. Surely, under such circumstances,
one's temper must sometimes give way. A man who loves
children and flowers cannot be unamiable, much less bad,
and Mr. Syme loved both. He was at all times rather
reserved in his manner, but when warmed up by the oc-
casion he was an agreeable companion. His friends and
pupils were greatly attached to him, and loiid in their praise
of his virtues, his intelligence, and his accomplishments.
John Brown, who was his devoted follower and life-long
admirer, in inscribing to him one of his publications, has
pithily portrayed his old master's chief characteristics —

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 291

Verax^ capax^ pei'spicax^ sagax^ efficax^ tenax. He adds :
"It has been happily said of him that he never wastes a
word, or a drop of ink, or a drop of blood ; and his is the
strongest, exactest, truest, immediatest, safest intellect,
dedicated by its possessor to the surgical cure of mankind,
I have ever yet met with." Death overtook the great sur-
geon in June, 1870, in the seventy-first year of his age,
in consequence of a second attack of apoplexy.

Soon after the death of Professor Syme his old pupils
and friends took active measures to raise a suitable memo-
rial to him. Among these friends, the most enthusiastic,
perhaps, was Dr. Charles IVIurchison, of London. Know-
ing the warm regard which I felt for his former preceptor,
this gentleman addressed to me a letter upon the sub-
ject. He begged me to interest myself with the principal
surgeons of the United States in furtherance of the object,
and forwarded to me at the same time copies of a printed
circular, fully setting forth the wishes of the London com-
mittee in charge of the matter. The design was to make
the memorial international. Altogether I obtained about
twenty subscribers, each contributing ten dollars. The
memorial consisted of a marble bust of Mr. Syme, placed
in the hall of the University of Edinburgh, and of a schol-
arship of one thousand pounds.

I cannot help subjoining the touching words of the good
John Brown of Syme's last days: "I was the first," he
says, "to see him when struck down by hemiplegia. It
was in Shandwick Place, where he had his chambers —
sleeping and enjoying his evenings in his beautiful ]\lill-
bank, with its flowers, its matchless orchids and heaths
and azaleas, its bananas and grapes and peaches ; with
Blackford Hill, where IMarmion saw the Scottish host
mustering for Flodden, in front, and the Pentlands, with
Cairkelton Hill, their advanced guard, cutting the sky, its
ruddy porphyry scaur holding the slanting shadows in its
bosom. He was, as before said, in his room in Shandwick

292 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Place, sitting in his chair, having been set up by his faith-
ful Blackbell, His face was distorted. He said, 'John,
this is the conclusion ;' and so it was, to his and our and
the world's sad cost. He submitted to his fate with manly
fortitude, but he felt it to the uttermost — struck down in
his prime, full of rich power, abler than ever to do good to
man, his soul surviving his brain, and looking on at its
ruins during many sad months. He became softer, gentler,
more easily moved, even to tears ; but the judging power,
the perspicacity, the piercing to the core, remained un-
touched. Henceforward, of course, life was miserable.
How he bore up against this, resigning his delights of
teaching, of doing good to men, of seeing and of cherishing
his students, of living in front of the world — ^how he ac-
cepted all this only those nearest to him can know. I
have never seen anything more pathetic than when, near
his death, he lay speechless, but full of feeling and mind,
and made known in some inscrutable way to his old gar-
dener and friend that he wished to see a certain orchid
which he knew should be then in bloom. The big, clumsy,
knowing Patterson, glum and victorious — he was forever
getting prizes at the Horticultural — brought it in without
a word. It was the ver}^ one — radiant in beauty, white,
with a brown freckle, like Imogen's mole, and, like it,
' right proud of that more delicate lodging.' He gazed at
it, and, bursting into a passion of tears, motioned it away
as insufferable."

John Brown was a worshipper of James Syme. He evi-
dently looked upon him as a superior being, as one worthy
of the love and admiration not only of his pupils, but of
mankind at large — as one endowed with the noblest attri-
butes of human nature, and yet, perhaps, not wholly free
from some of its failings.

I had been in Edinburgh more than two days before I
had the good fortune to fall in with Sir James Y. Simpson,
whose acquaintance I had made a short time previously at

SAMUEL n. GROSS, M. D. 293

Norwich during the meeting of the British Association for
the Advancement of Science. I had called at his house,
but as the day was Sunday I did not succeed in seeing him
until ]\Ionday morning when he visited us at our lodgings ;
and after that time he was all kindness and attention during
our week's sojourn, inviting us to breakfast, luncheon,
dinner, and tea, so that we saw him generally several
times a day. On these occasions there were always some
agreeable and intelligent people at table ; sometimes dis-
tinguished strangers from a great distance, or from foreign
countries. The morning before we left he had at break-
fast, to which he had kindly invited us, two Egyptian
doctors, who had come purposely to Edinburgh to form
his acquaintance. In fact, at his house there was a con-
stant round of unostentatious hospitality. Sir James al-
ways had at command a fund of interesting anecdotes, and
ever}'- guest felt quite at his ease. As a talker he was one
of the most charming of men, always brimful of accounts
of great personages, ghosts, murders, and church affairs.
He seemed to be at home upon ever>^ subject. His house
was a perfect caravansar}', open at all times to ever\'-
body. How Lady Simpson bore all this strain was a
marvel. One would suppose that it would have required
the patience of a Job and the strength of a giantess to
preside at such a board, and to undergo the incessant labor
of pouring out the tea and of doing her share in entertain-
ing. The house, without being elegant, was spacious and
well arranged, and afforded a beautiful view of the city
and of the Frith of Forth. Several rooms were set apart
for the reception and examination of patients, who came
to Sir James from all parts of the countrv', the Continent
of Europe, the United States, and even the antipodes.
Several hours in the morning and afternoon were gener-
ally spent in his consulting-rooms, where he was aided
by one of his more advanced pupils and a well-trained
female nurse. As might well be supposed, he was often

294 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

called to patients at a distance from home. It was very
common for him to run up to London and to return on the
same day. Occasionally he went to Paris and to other
Continental cities, always travelling in haste to economize
time, so precious to a man of his active temperament and
incessant occupation. For these excursions he usually re-
ceived liberal fees ; and yet I doubt whether, with all his
large income from his practice, he left much of an estate.
His family expenses must have been great. Besides,
money was not his idol. He worshipped gods of a far
more genial character.

In his appearance Simpson was as extraordinary as he
was in his social and professional relations. The moment
I cast my eye upon him at Norwich I recognized him from
his strong resemblance to the photographs I had seen of
him. He was of medium stature, with an enormous head,
well covered with flowing locks, a light complexion, bright
blue eyes, a well-shaped mouth, a short, thick neck, and
broad shoulders, the whole set off by a countenance indi-
cative of benevolence and intelligence. A glance was suf-
ficient to convince us that we stood in the presence of a
great man — a man who would have attained a conspicuous
rank in any pursuit to which he might have devoted him-
self. Few men in any walk of life ever attained such
eminence in so short a time, led so successful a career, or
died so universally regretted. Born at Bathgate, Linlith-
gowshire, Scotland, in 1811, of humble parentage, he
was, like many other illustrious men, the architect of
his own fortune, and rose rapidly in public and profes-
sional favor until, in 1840, eight years after he received
his medical degree at Edinburgh, he was elected Professor
of Midwifer\^ in his Alma Mater, a position which he
filled with distinguished tclat up to the time of his death
in 1870. During all this period, in which he stood side
by side with such men as Syme, Bennett, Christison, and
Goodsir, there was no one who did more than he to up-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 295

hold the fame of that great and ancient school. He taught
Midwifery as it had never been taught before at Edin-
burgh, and imparted to it an impulse felt throughout the
civilized world. He placed gy-nsecolog}- upon an elevated
platform, and invested it with new resources. His con-
tributions to both of these departments, mostly in the
form of essays, are ever}' where recognized as standard
productions, and have been republished in this country
and translated into different languages. In everything
he undertook he was progressive, often original, always
bold and decided. When the news reached him that
ether had been used in America as an anaesthetic he at
once employed it in his midwifery cases, and within a
twelvemonth, solely by the aid of experiment, discovered
the anaesthetic properties of chloroform. With such a
mind as his, so active, so vigorous, so restless, it was im-
possible for him to be idle, or indifferent to the needs and
improvements of medicine. Not content with the exac-
tions and labors of his own profession, and deeply im-
pressed with the truths of Christianity, he often spent the
Sabbath in preaching and in other religious exercises ; took
an especial interest in the temperance cause, and busied
himself in various ways in ameliorating the condition of
the poorer classes. He devised a new process, known as
acupressure, for the suppression of hemorrhage after sur-
gical operations, upon which he published a learned and
exhaustive treatise. Antiquarian researches occupied at
one time much of his attention. Hospitalism, a term in-
troduced by him to designate the hygienic conditions of
hospitals, formed the subject of a series of elaborate and
valuable papers among the later contributions from his
prolific pen.

Simpson, like Syme, was the recipient of many honors,
native and foreign. Every prominent medical and scien-
tific society was anxious to enroll him among its members.
In 1853 ^^ was elected a foreign associate of the French

296 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Academy of IMedicine, wliicli, three years later, awarded
him the Mouthyon Prize of two thousand francs for his
discovery of the anaesthetic properties of chloroform. In
1868 the University of Oxford conferred upon him the de-
gree of D. C. L. The Town Council of Edinburgh voted
him the freedom of the city ; and since his death a monu-
ment has been erected to his memory — an unnecessary un-
dertaking for a man whose name is immortal. Knowing
that he and Syme had long been on ill terms, I took good
care not to mention in the presence of the one the name
of the other. How their misunderstanding originated, I
never learned. Syme detested Professor Miller, another
of his colleagues, and a most estimable man.

Mr. Spence, the Professor of Surgery, received me very
kindly, gave me a handsome luncheon, showed me the
University buildings and some of his morbid preparations,
and altogether impressed me as an amiable and estimable
man. He was an excellent surgeon, but not a brilliant
lecturer. He performed the hip-joint amputation nearly, or
quite, a dozen times. His recent work upon surgery has
not added anything to his reputation, owing to the fact that
it is in arrear of the existing state of the science. Lay-
cock, the professor of medicine, was out of town ; and Pro-
fessor Turner, an able anatomist and accomplished teacher,
I had met at Oxford, at the table of Professor Rolleston.
At the Royal Infirmary I saw Dr. Heron Watson perform
lithotomy upon a middle-aged man, and was struck with
the immense length of his external incisions. Upon in-
quiry, I found that this, unlike our own, was the ordinary
Edinburgh practice.

Professor Christison, now a veteran in our ranks, whose
great work on Poisons has given him a world-wide reputa-
tion, was, much to my regret, out of town. The late J.
Hughes Bennett was also absent. I had, however, met him
a short time before, first at Oxford, and subsequently at
Norwich, where, in the medical section of the British x\sso-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

297

elation for the Advancement of Science, I heard him read
an abstract of his paper embodying the results of the ex-
periments performed jointly by himself and others, known
as the Edinburgh Committee, on the effects of mercury as
a cholagogue. The subjects of these experiments were
dogs, and the conclusion reached by the Committee was that
mercur}^, in every form in which it is administered, fails to
act upon the liver as a stimulant of the biliary secretion.
It was my privilege to reply to some of the statements of
Professor Bennett on the occasion, and, if I convinced no
one else, I was myself perfectly satisfied that the inferences
of the Committee were entirely fallacious as applied to the
human subject. Every intelligent and observant practi-
tioner on this continent knows that calomel will increase
the secretion of bile, whatever effect it may produce upon
the inferior animals. Bennett, who was a man of un-
doubted talents, an original observer, a good teacher, and an
able writer, did not enjoy the reputation of being an amiable
person. He was irritable, haughty, captious, overbearing,
and quarrelsome — whether from constitutional vice, or as
the result of ill health, of which he was long the subject,
I am unable to say.

My visit to Edinburgh brought me into contact wath
several of the younger members of the profession, parti-
cularly Mr. Joseph Bell, a great-grandson of the celebrated
Benjamin Bell, and Mr. Thomas Annandale, both men
of surgical promise. Dr. James Miller, for a number of i
years Professor of Surgery in the University of Edinburgh,
and the author of two excellent works on surgery well
known in this country, had died only a short time before
my visit, leaving behind him a son destined, it is hoped,
to follow in the footsteps of his distinguished father.

The University of Edinburgh, founded by James VI., in

1582, has long been known as a great centre of medical

science and medical education. In the last century it was

rendered famous by the Monros, father and son, by Cullen,

1-38

298 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and by Black, and in this century it presents a galaxy of
names wliicli the world will not willingly let die. Benja-
min and John Bell, although never connected with the
University, wrote and practised surgery here ; and Barclay
and Knox were great extramural teachers of anatomy. It
was in the Scotch capital that that great triumvirate in
surgery, Robert Liston, James Syme, and William Fer-
gusson, laid the foundation of their future renown. It
was here that Thompson first taught military surgery and
wrote his immortal work on Inflammation ; and it was here
that, under the inspiration of the prelections of John Bell,
Ephraim McDowell conceived the idea of the practica-
bility of ovariotomy. It is worthy of note that the first
professor of medicine in the University of Edinburgh was
appointed in 1685. The University has recently augmented
its reputation, owing mainly, I think, to its great clinical
advantages, and now commands immense classes, students
flocking to it from all parts of the world.

One of the great events during our stay at Edinburgh
was the visit of General Lord Napier, the hero of Magdala,
at the instance of the Town Council, who voted him the
freedom of the city, and extended to him a public recep-
tion. The city was crowded with strangers, and the day was
given up to amusement and recreation, most of the stores
and public places being closed in honor of the occasion.

A singular fatality seems to have attended the fami-
lies of two of our most distinguished Edinburgh friends.
Within less than two years after our visit Mr. and Mrs.
Syme and Sir James and Lady Simpson were numbered
with the dead.

From Edinburgh to Glasgow the ride, which occupies
only about two hours, extends over a somewhat hilly and
unattractive countr}\ We selected Maclean's Hotel. The
next morning my son and myself sallied forth in quest of
objects of interest, with Dr. George H. B. Macleod, the
author of the well-known little work entitled Notes on the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 299

Surgery of the Crimean War, republished by J. B. L^ippin-
cott & Co. , of Philadelphia. Our first stoppiug-place was
the old Ro3'al lufirmar)^, famous on account of the exploits
of Lowrie, Buchanan, and other surgeons, and as the
building in which Professor lyister, since transferred to
Edinburgh, first put in practice what is now known as his
dressing. From thence we walked to the University of
Glasgow, then to the Hunterian Anatomical Museum, and
finally down St. Giles Street to the city court-rooms in
order to see the judges and lawyers in their gowns and
wigs and to get a sight of the lower classes of people.
As we wandered along this celebrated thoroughfare, we
passed crowds of filthy, noisy persons, indulging in loud
talking and obscene language, and we were therefore
not a little glad when we found ourselves in a quiet and
orderly part of the city. Entering the court-room, we
were politely shown to seats, and an opportunity was thus
afforded us of observing the proceedings at our leisure. The
presiding judge, arrayed in his wig and red gown, was an
elderly man, who seemed to be thoroughly acquainted with
his business. The case before him was that of a young
man and his wife, who had been caught a few days before
in a crowd in St. Giles Street in the act of stealing a watch
worth probably ten or fifteen shillings. The evidence was
unmistakable, and the judge, without further ceremony,
gave each eight years in the penitentiary. Upon asking
one of the lawyers whether the sentence was not a severe
one, he said, '*Not at all; both the prisoners are old jail-
birds." Other cases came up in rapid succession, mostly
of denizens of the famous street through which we had
passed only a short time before. The judges of this court
lodged at Maclean's Hotel, which, strange to say, was
guarded while they were in the house by several armed
men in unifonn. In the morning they were carried away
in their wigs and robes in carriages, similarly guarded, and
brought back in the same manner after the adjournment

300 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of the court. Upon inquiry as to wliat all this meant, the
answer was, "It is the custom." "Are the judges in any
danger of being assaulted or waylaid ?" " Certainly not. ' '

The Hunterian Museum, the gift of the celebrated Dr.
William Hunter, of London, is of itself worthy of a visit to
Glasgow. It is especially rich in anatomical preparations,
in dissections of the healthy and gravid uterus, and in
specimens of the foetus and of the full-grown child, healthy
and diseased. It also contains a good collection of books,
coins, pictures, and objects of natural history and com-
parative anatomy. William Hunter was a brother of the
great John Hunter, and a pupil of Dr. William Cullen —
three illustrious names in medicine. He was a native of
Scotland, and for some time studied divinity, which, at
the instance of Cullen, he abandoned for medicine, gradu-
ating at the University of Glasgow in 1750. His career
in London was successful. He devoted himself chiefly to
the practice of midwifery, in which he rapidly rose to
distinction. He was physician to the Queen, President
of the College of Physicians, Fellow of the Royal Society,
and Associate of the Academy of Medicine of Paris. Be-
sides his Medical Commentaries, published in 1762-64, he
left a work upon the Human Gravid Uterus, which was
illustrated by splendid plates engraved from his own dis-
sections. He died in 1783. It is said that the immediate
cause of his death was exhaustion brought on during the
delivery of an introductory lecture at a time when he
should have been in his bed. The effort was too great ;
he fainted, and never rallied. Turning to a friend as he
was passing away, he observed, " If I had strength enough
to hold a pen, I would write how easy and pleasant a thing
it is to die."

Having heard much of the Rev. Dr. Norman Macleod
as a preacher, and having occasionally read a number
of Good Words, Mrs. Gross, my son, and myself were
desirous of seeing him in his own pulpit. We accord-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 301

ingly went the Sunday after our arrival to Barony Parish
Church, his brother, Dr. George H. B. Macleod, having,
on the previous evening, kindly engaged seats for us in
the family pew. The servace was just beginning as we
entered, the divine giving out the hymn in a voice at
once clear, distinct, and euphonious. A devout prayer
followed, then another hymn, and finally a sermon of
great strength and beauty, full of strong, common sense,
and delivered in the sweet persuasive tone so character-
istic of the man. There was no attempt at oratory, no
declamation, no excitement. The words, as they rolled
from his mouth, in elegant and impressive sentences,
fell gently and pleasantly upon the ear, and sank deeply
into the heart and mind of the hearer. Looking at
the preacher as he stood before his large congrega-
tion, earnestly expounding the great truths of the Gospel,
one could not fail to be struck with his magnificent
physique, his immense head, well covered with silvered
hair, his well-formed mouth, and his noble features, deno-
tive of the highest order of intellect and of the warmest,
gentlest heart, in full sympathy with the whole human
family. When the services were concluded he walked di-
rectly from the pulpit to our pew, shaking each of us cor-
dially by the hand, and expressing much pleasure at seeing
us. He added that he had many kind friends among my
countr}-men, and had received much attention during his
late visit to America.

Norman Macleod was one of Christ's noblest ambassa-
dors, a man of great versatility, full of knowledge, and a fine
scholar. He was always engaged in benevolent enterprises,
particularly among the poor, always liberal and tolerant,
yet consistent and loyal to his own church. My heart
warmly sympathized with his countrymen when, in 1872,
the press announced the unwelcome news of his death. A
great man had fallen in Israel, and Israel was clothed in
sackcloth and mourning. He died at the age of sixty.

302 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

He was associated, as author, editor, and contributor,
with many literary undertakings, and at the time of his
death was chaplain to the Queen for Scotland. His Good
Words enjoyed a wide circulation, and served an important
purpose as an educational organ, especially with the more
humble classes. An excellent Life of this good man was
published in 1876 by his brother. Rev. Donald Macleod.

Of the influence which Macleod wielded over his conere-
gation some idea may be formed from the fact that on one
occasion, during the disruption controversy in Scotland, in
1843, ^^ spoke to it for three houis and a half. "Not
a soul," he says, "moved. Never did I see such an atten-
tive audience. ' ' During the same year he wrote to his sis-
ter Jane, ' ' I am very dozvie and cast down — not because
I am alone, for I love the bachelor life every day more
and more, and delight in the independence with which I
can rise, eat, read, write when I like !"

I had corresponded with Dr. George B. H. Macleod be-
fore I had the pleasure of making his personal acquaint-
ance, and I had the gratification several years previously
of announcing to him his election to membership in the
College of Physicians of Philadelphia. At the time of my
visit he was one of the surgeons of the Royal Infirmary of
Glasgow, and Professor of Surgery in the Andersonian
University, from which, since the appointment of Mr.
Ivister as the successor of Syme at Edinburgh, he has been
transferred to the University of Glasgow, a more enviable
and influential position. Like his late brother, he is a
giant in mind as well as in body, of handsome appearance,
upwards of six feet in height, well proportioned, an ex-
cellent operator, a popular teacher, and a clear, vigorous
writer — one, in short, of those men who know how to per-
form every duty incumbent upon them. Frederick the
Great would have given half of Silesia for a regiment of
such men as the Macleods.

Since the above was penned I had the pleasure, in 1881,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 303

of extending a warm welcome to Dr. Alacleod at my own
house, and of entertaining him along with a small number
of friends invited to greet him. He was making a rapid
tour of the country, with which and its wonderful enter-
prise, everywhere discernible, he expressed himself greatly
delighted. He is unquestionably one of the strongest men
in his particular sphere in Scotland.

In connection with my visit to Scotland I must refer
to a circumstance which has always been to me a source
of annoyance. Professor Pirrie, of Aberdeen, a great
man, recently deceased, did me the honor to transfer from
my work on Surgery to his a whole page, vcrbathn et
literatiiJi^ of my remarks on the bite of the rattlesnake ;
and he did this without one particle of acknowledgment.
Why he should have done it has always been to me a mys-
tery, the more especially as he is an excellent writer, and
thoroughly versed in the literature of the art and science
of surgery. I should not have mentioned the matter at all
in this autobiography were it not for the fact that others,
not acquainted with it, might suppose me, and not my
Scotch contemporary, to be at fault. An asterisk would
have rendered such a reference unnecessary.

CHAPTER XI.

THE giant's causeway — BELFAST — DUBLIN — TRINITY COLLEGE — MEDICAL MEN
AND HOSPITALS OF DUBLIN — THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS — ^THE DIS-
ESTABLISHMENT OF THE IRISH CHURCH — SIR WILLIAM R. WILDE — SIR DOMINIC

JOHN CORRIGAN, BART. WILLIAM STOKES RECEPTION AFfER RETURNING

TO PHILADELPHIA.

Leaving Glasgow after a sojourn of three days, during
which we visited Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond, full
of weird associations and romantic scenery, we took the
steamer late in the afternoon for Ireland, passing down
the beautiful Clyde, and crossing the Irish Channel during
the night, reaching Belfast by daylight the next morning.
Taking an early breakfast we hurried off to the train for
Portrush, where we arrived after a ride of nearly three
hours over a dreary country, with now and then a fine
field and respectable house to break the monotony of the
sad sight. Hiring a jaunting-car, a one-horse vehicle
peculiar, I believe, to the Emerald Isle, we drove rapidly
over a pleasant road, much of it lying along the sea-
coast, to the Giant's Causeway, that wonderful natural
curiosity which is so well worthy of a visit, and which
has been so often and so well described by tourists. Many
romantic stories are told about this singular basaltic prom-
ontory, consisting, it is said, of nearly four thousand col-
umns, each presenting the form of a crj-stal, with a smooth,
polished surface, three-sided in some, and nonagonal, or
nine-sided, in others. How far these columns extend in
depth is hardly a matter even of conjecture. The scene
is one of sublimity, and it is therefore not surprising that
in the estimation of the vulgar it should have been re-
garded as the work of the giants — whence its name.
304

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, AI. D. 305

Belfast presents few objects of interest to the medical
tourist. Apart from its immense flax and cotton factories
it is little known out of Europe. It has a beautiful botan-
ical garden, and a large museum, worthy of inspection on
account of its rich collection of Irish antiquities. Queen's
College is a well-organized institution, embracing faculties
of arts, science, literature, and medicine. The medical
school has a convenient edifice, well arranged and equipped
for eflacient courses of instruction, and several of the pro-
fessors are men of eminence. Dr. McCosh was for a num-
ber of years professor in its literary department ; and it
was fortunate for Princeton and the United States that he
was decoyed away from an institution in which he had no
opportunity of exercising those remarkable executive abil-
ities which have raised Nassau Hall, within less than ten
years, from a third-rate or fourth-rate seminary to one of
the most respectable colleges in the land.

The Belfast Hospital is an old edifice, but its interior
is kept in excellent condition, and the medical and sur-
gical staffs are men of ability, intent upon the performance
of their duties. Before leaving the city, I called iipon Mr.
William MacCormac, a promising and highly-educated
young surgeon, whom I met a few weeks previously at
Oxford at the meeting of the British Medical Association,
and who extended to me a genuine Irish welcome.

The journey from Belfast to Dublin occupies nearly three
hours and a half, the distance being one hundred miles.
The road passes over a lovely rolling country, interspersed
with numerous towns and villages, and the views im-
press one favorably with the industry and resources of
the Irish people. On arriving in the Irish capital an
American traveller almost instinctively tells the coachman
to drive to the Shelboume, which is a clean, well-kept
hotel, and situated immediately opposite Stephen's Green,
or what in Philadelphia would be called Stephen's Square,
convinced that he will meet with some of his countr>'men,
1—39

3o6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

with whom the house is a great favorite. Dublin is admi-
rably situated, and in point of beauty is inferior to no city
in Great Britain, Edinburgh not excepted. To an Ameri-
can it is quite attractive, apart from the elegance of its
many private residences, for the very atmosphere is full
of historical associations. Trinity College, founded in the
reign of Elizabeth, is known the world over as a great
Protestant educational institution, the Alma Mater of
thousands of distinguished scholars, representing all the
learned professions, politics, statesmanship, the army and
navy, poetry, wit, humor, and authorship. A degree from
this college has always been esteemed a high honor. Its
medical department has embraced many able men. In-
deed, Dublin has long been celebrated for its physicians,
surgeons, and obstetricians, constituting what is known
every' where as the "Irish School" — not, I think, ex-
celled by any learned body in the world. Among the
famous living representatives at the time of my visit,
in 1868, were Stokes, Kennedy, Jacobs, Robert Smith,
Adams, Beatty, Sir William R. Wilde, Churchill, O'Farral,
Sir Dominic John Corrigan, Bart, Tufnell, Butcher, George
Porter, IMacDonnell, and Maurice Collis. The dead embrace
a long list of illustrious names, such as Carmichael, Colles,
Wilmot, Crampton, Graves, Harrison, William H. Porter,
Rynd, Macartney, Houston, Marsh, Montgomery, and
Bellingham. The medical press of Dublin has been pro-
lific in meritorious productions. The works of Robert J.
Graves and William Stokes alone are sufficient to impart
a distinctive character to any medical school. Carmichael
and Colles laid the foundation of much of our knowledge
of the nature and treatment of syphilitic diseases ; Mont-
gomery and Kennedy have excellently illustrated the diag-
nosis of pregnancy ; Robert Smith has written the ablest
monograph on fractures of the joints, and Robert Adams
the best on rheumatic gout, in any language ; the works of
Collins and Beatty on midwifery are largely quoted by con-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 307

temporal-}' writers. Sir William R. Wilde's treatise on
aural diseases was for a long time the most scientific work
upon the subject ; the work of William Henr}' Porter on the
larynx is consulted by ever^'body in quest of information
respecting the affections of that organ. In medical jour-
nalism Dublin occupies a high position. The Dublin
Journal of Medicine has enjoyed a brilliant career, and
comprises much of the best periodical literature that has
appeared in Great Britain during the present century.
The ablest men in the Irish profession have contributed
to its success. It may be observ^ed, in general terms, that
the works which have emanated from the Dublin school
are characterized by originality, by force of expression,
and by elegant scholarship. The treatises of Graves and
Stokes are specimens of the highest class of authorship.

In the treatment of aneurism the Dublin surgeons are
entitled to the highest praise. Until near the middle of
the present century no advances had been made of any
really important character in the management of this dis-
ease since the days of John Hunter. In 1847 appeared the
monograph of Dr. O'Bryen Bellingham, entitled Obser-
vations on Aneurism, and its Treatment by Compression
— a work which speedily imparted a new impulse to this
branch of surger>'. Mechanical compression by means of
well-constructed clamps in great measure superseded the
use of the ligature, and led to other important modifica-
tions of treatment, especially digital compression and
forced flexion, by which numerous cases of this disease,
even aneurism of the abdominal aorta, have since been
cured. It had occasionally been employed prior to the
period in question ; but it remained for the Dublin sur-
geons, especially Bellingham and Tufnell, by a course of
carefully-conducted, philosophical observations, to place
the treatment upon a scientific basis.

Dublin abounds in hospitals. The principal ones are
Stevens's, the Richmond, Meath, Mercer's, Sir Patrick

3o8 AUTOBIOGRAFHY OF

Dun's, and St. Vincent's, the last being in charge of the
Sisters of Charity. Stevens's Hospital, founded in 1720
by Dr. Stevens, contains three hundred and fifty beds,
and is situated near the insane asylum founded by Dean
Swift ; Stella having been a contributor to it, and the
Dean himself having, if I mistake not, been for a while an
inmate. The Meath Hospital, so celebrated as the theatre
of the labors and observations of Graves, Stokes, Cusack,
Crampton, W. H. Porter, Maurice Collis, and others, is an
ordinary-looking building, situated in the outskirts of the
city, on a lot originally belonging to the Earl of Meath,
whence its name. It has one hundred and fifteen beds,
and is provided with a well-arranged lecture and operating
room. It was in this hospital, a few years ago, that Mau-
rice Collis, an eminent young surgeon, the author of an ex-
cellent work on cancer, in removing a scirrhous mammary
gland, accidentally received a wound on his finger which
caused pyaemia and death. The Richmond Hospital is con-
nected with what is known as the Carmichael School of
Medicine, and is an old but well-managed institution. The
younger Stokes, who, instead of following in the footsteps
of his father, is rapidly building up a surgical reputation,
and Dr. Robert Adams, at the time seventy-four years of age,
but still hale and vigorous, showed me everything of inter-
est. The operating-room is small but convenient. The
museum contains many valuable pathological specimens,
among others one in which both femoral arteries had been
tied in the same subject after an interval, if I mistake not,
of seventeen years. It is particularly rich in preparations
and casts of chronic arthritis, from which Mr. Adams
copied the admirable drawings and plates which illustrate
his work upon that disease. Sir Patrick Dun's Hospital
was founded by a noted physician of that name, who be-
queathed to it his large fortune. The building, situated in
the vicinity of Trinity College, has a granite front, and is
one of the neatest institutions of the kind in the metropolis.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D.

309

Connected with the hospital is a training-school for nurses,
under the supervision of Miss Probyn, who gave me much
useful infonnation upon a subject in which I felt at the
time deeply interested, and presented me, on parting, some
valuable printed documents.

Of the eleemosynary institutions in Dublin none in-
terested me so much as the Rotunda, or Dublin Lying-in
Hospital, kindly shown me by Dr. Evory Kennedy, the
attending physician, or, as he is generally called, the
Master. It is a noble edifice, extending along one of
the principal streets one hundred and twenty-five feet, and
it is provided with every comfort and convenience for
the treatment of destitute parturient women, the number
of admissions annually being upwards of two thousand.
The rooms, although not spacious, are neat and well ven-
tilated, and are frequently whitewashed. In fact, every
possible precaution is used to keep them in a salubrious
condition. The result is that the mortality is uncom-
monly slight. The Master is assisted by six resident
students and by eight female obstetricians — the latter of
whom, in addition to the duties of the house, attend to
out-door patients. The hospital, owing to the manner in
which it is managed, enjoys a wide reputation ; and nu-
merous pupils, both native and foreign, are drawn here by
the four courses of obstetric lectures which are annually
delivered by the Master in virtue of his official position.
Dr. Evory Kennedy, widely known by his waitings, is an
accomplished obstetrician. He is a tall, slender, elderly
gentleman, with a fine head and face, and of winning
manners. It was my good fortune to renew my acquaint-
ance with him in 1872, at the meeting of the British Med-
ical Association at Birmingham, and it was not easy to
resist his tempting and urgent solicitations to accompany
him to his home in Dublin. The Rotunda was founded in
1 751 by Dr. Mosse, a wealthy and benevolent gentleman,
whose marble bust is in the hall.

3IO

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Dublin has an excellent ophthalmic hospital, founded
by Sir William R. Wilde, under whose direction it was for
a long time mainly managed. It has room for thirty-six
beds, and is provided with a neat operating and lecture
room and all the requisite conveniences for the examina-
tion and treatment of diseases of the eye. Sir William
continues to extract cataract by the old method, looking
upon Graefe's process by iridectomy as an unnecessary and
absurd innovation.

It will be seen from the foregoing remarks that not fewer
than four of the Dublin hospitals were founded by medical
men, three of whom — Stevens, Mosse, and Sir Patrick
Dun — devoted their entire estates to their endowment.
Such noble benefactions deserve the highest praise, for
who can estimate the amount of good which they are daily
doing to the sick poor? Nearly all the hospitals in the
Irish metropolis are connected with medical schools, and
hence they are in no small degree contributory to the ad-
vancement of scientific medical and surgical education.
The rivalry which must necessarily exist among them is
in itself a powerful incentive to a generous ambition and
salutary exertion. As the classes are generally small,
the teaching and the opportunities for improvement must
be more effective than in larger institutions. Is not this
the reason why Dublin has so many excellent physicians,
surgeons, and obstetricians ? Every man connected with
such a hospital, if he is good for anything at all, becomes
at once an observer of disease and a teacher of youth —
two powerful factors in the acquisition of reputation.
There must be considerably more than one hundred men
in Dublin who are daily occupied in this manner of re-
ceiving knowledge and imparting it to others.

I am indebted to Mr. George Porter for an opportunity of
inspecting the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons,
situated in a beautiful part of the city, directly opposite
Stephen's Green. The building is in the Doric style, with

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 311

a granite front, and is surmounted by the statues of
Minerva, H}^geia, and ^!Esculapius. The hall is adorned
with excellent busts of Dease, Cusack, Colles, Carmichael,
Kirby, Crampton, Charles Hawkes Todd, William H.
Porter, Bellingham, Power, and other surgeons. The
library comprises more than twenty thousand volumes ;
and the museum, contained in three separate rooms, the
largest of which is eighty-four feet long by thirty in width,
is rich in valuable specimens, exhibiting healthy, patho-
logical, and comparative anatomy. There is also a fine
collection of wax preparations, the work chiefly of
French artists — the gift, I was told, of the Duke of North-
umberland. The lecture -rooms and the dissecting-rooms
are among the best I have ever seen. Many prominent
physicians and surgeons of Dublin have been teachers in
this institution. It was incorporated in 1784, and, although
it received liberal aid from Parliament, its success was
mainly due to the influence and labors of the late Dr.
Renny, Director-General of Military Hospitals. The Col-
lege of Physicians has a fine edifice, a good library, and
excellent rooms, adorned with portraits of some of its
more noted members.

We happened to be in Dublin during the meeting of the
clerg}^ to consider the question of Mr. Gladstone's bill for
the disestablishment of the Irish church. The meeting,
presided over by the Archbishop of Dublin, was held in a
large edifice near Stephen's Green, and was attended
by persons of the highest respectability from all parts
of Ireland. There was a great deal of speaking, but
little which was good, or which seemed to me to be to the
point. Questions as to order were of frequent occurrence,
and occasionally there was a great deal of merriment, in-
terspersed with hisses and loud and even boisterous talk-
ing. Much confusion often prevailed, and it was, appar-
ently, almost impossible for the chairman to preserve
order. The meeting was in session nearly a week.

312 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

The passage of the Premier's bill hardly disappointed any-
one out of Ireland. To show the folly of feeding the Irish
clergy, as had been so long the practice of the English
church, I may mention that I met at dinner at the house
of a friend one of these gentry from the interior of the
country, who had for more than forty years received an-
nually more than three thousand dollars for his charge of
a parish which had never had at any one time as many as
twenty communicants. To use his own expression, his
parish was "steeped in Catholicism." It was distress-
ing, of course, to throw such a man out of employment,
and hence it is not surprising that he and hundreds of
others in similar circumstances should have died hard.

I had met Sir William R. Wilde at Oxford some time
before my arrival in Dublin, and was therefore glad to
renew my acquaintance with him at his own house. A
more generous, warm-hearted man it would have been hard
to find in her Majesty's three kingdoms, or any one who
possessed more general intelligence, or had acquired a
higher position as an aurist and an oculist. He was a steady
worker, an enthusiast in everything he undertook. His
writings, whether in book-form, or contributions to the
periodical press, whether relative to general medicine, to
his own specialties, or to purely literary or scientific
investigations, are scholarly productions, evincing un-
usual powers of observation, patient research, and critical
acumen. His treatise on the ear is a classical work.
His statistics of deaf-mutism were collected with great
pains, and had the effect of bringing his name prom-
inently before the British government, as well as be-
fore the different nations of Europe. It was in con-
sideration of the time, labor, and talents bestowed upon
this important subject that the Queen was induced to
confer upon him the honor of knighthood, without how-
ever a baronetcy. Many of his leisure hours in the latter
part of his life were devoted to antiquarian researches, in

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 313

which he made some important discoveries. The dis-
course upon the Antiquities of Ireland, which he deliv-
ered before the British Association for the Advancement
of Science at its meeting at Belfast in August, 1874, at-
tracted much attention, on account of its learning, the
force and elegance of its diction, and its philosophical
deductions.

Sir Dominic John Corrigan, Bart. , occupies a high posi-
tion in Dublin as a physician and as a man of intellect
Soon after my arrival he kindly invited me to dine with
him at his country residence some miles from the city ; but
a previous engagement prevented me from accepting his
courtesy — a circumstance which I much regretted, as the
company which I was to meet was a select one, composed
of prominent doctors and Irish gentlemen. Sir Dominic
is a baronet, a man of wealth, and is in large practice.
He has a noble physique. Besides his lectures on the
Nature of Fever, and some minor publications, he has
been a large contributor to Forbes' s Cyclopedia of Prac-
tical Medicine and to the periodical press. As a writer
he is clear and full of his subject, and on occasion a
sharp critic. In his address on Medicine delivered before
the British Medical Association at its meeting at Dublin,
in 1867, he indulged in some harsh and unjust remarks
respecting the American medical profession, which at the
time led to caustic comments on this side of the Atlantic,
and for which we have hardly yet forgiven him. Some
years ago a strong effort was made to secure Sir Dominic
a seat in Parliament, either as a representative of the
medical profession or of the Irish universities ; but, al-
though the medical press and a number of the more
prominent secular papers of the Irish metropolis strongly
advocated his claims, he was not elected. Had he suc-
ceeded, he would have proved a powerful champion in pro-
moting the interests of medical reform and of the public
health. His ability, his experience, his strong common-
I — 40

314 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

sense, and liis independent bearing would have well fitted
him for such a task.

During the meeting of the British Medical Association
at Oxford, in 1868, I made the acquaintance of Dr. Wil-
liam Stokes, a man of world-wide reputation as an author
and as an original observer, and occupied a seat near
him on the platform at the annual dinner. Called upon
to reply to a toast, he rose slowly, passed his hand over his
' ' gastricism, ' ' and said, ' ' Mr. Chairman, I am very much
in the condition of an American Indian, — 'belly full, head
empty. ' ' ' And, true enough, the learned doctor, the great
physician, the LL. D., and the recently made D. C. L. of
Oxford, had nothing to say which was not common-
place. His remarks were quite dull, and his manner was
devoid of everything that might have been expected from
an Irishman. I take for granted that Dr. Stokes was
never a great lecturer, although he has unquestionably
been a superior teacher. He took his degree at Edin-
burgh in 1825, ^^^ appeared to be a well-preser\^ed gen-
tleman. I presume that he is one of tliose men who are
never idle. His numerous works show him to be a man
of uncommon industr}^, of close observation, and of great
powers of analysis. As a diagnostician and medical prac-
titioner it is but just to say that he has no superior. His
work on Diseases of the Chest, his treatise on Diseases of
the Heart, his lectures on the Theory and Practice of
Medicine, and his lectures on Fever are characterized by
sterling excellence, and form an enduring record of his
ability. He is the most prolific medical author Ireland
has produced ; and everything he has written is based
essentially upon the cases treated by him in the celebrated
Meath Hospital.

We returned from Europe on the 15th of October, 1868,
after an absence of five months. We hardly touched the
shore before I was told that my medical friends, gradu-

SAAIUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 315

ates of the College, chiefly young men, had determined, as
a testimony of their afifection and esteem, to give Professor
Pancoast, who had been absent nearly one year, and my-
self a public reception in the foyer of the Academy of
IMusic. As all the arrangements had been made before
the news was divulged to us, it was in vain to remon-
strate, and the reception accordingly came off on Saturday,
October 24th. Dr. Ellwood Wilson, the well-known ob-
stetrician, was chairman of the committee, and Dr. Frank
F. Maur}', secretar}^ The greeting was presented in an
able address by Dr. Addinell Hewson. Several hundred
ladies and gentlemen were in attendance, such as J. Marion
Sims, Eliott, Sayre, the Flints, Dalton, James R. Wood,
John L. Atlee, Askew of Delaware, and Kinloch of
Charleston. A number of distinguished physicians had
come from New York, Pennsylvania, and other States.
There were also present prominent members of the bar
and pulpit, representatives of the navy, of the press, and
of the mercantile community. Hassler's band discoursed
sweet music ; the Academy was admirably lighted ; the
ladies were in their best toilettes ; and the whole scene
was one of great beauty and brilliancy. After the ad-
dresses were over an elegant and costly supper was served.
An abundance of champagne added greatly to the hilarity
of an occasion which, while my family and friends fully
appreciated it, I shall never forget. The compliment
was as flattering as it had been unexpected ; and I was
as glad to share it with Pancoast and his family, as, I
know, he was glad to share it with me and my family.
No jealousies ever existed between that good man and
me. We had worked together shoulder to shoulder for
thirteen years for the good of the school, and no inikind
word had ever passed between us. Our pupils knew this
well, and the compliment they had in store for us was
therefore so much the more gratifying to all concerned.
The Public Ledger of October 27th, in giving a report

3i6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of this flattering reunion, uses the following language :
" It was graceful, because it was an appropriate tribute to
high merit, an unmistakably sincere expression of deep
regard from their professional brethren, not only of this
city but of our great sister cities, and a heart-warm token
of affection from student to teacher, from the entered ap-
prentices of the healing craft to the great masters of the
science. The festival was also graced by the presence of
ladies, w^hose brilliant costumes and brighter faces gave a
charm to the occasion that could have been produced in
no other way. The whole affair had heart and meaning
in it."

In response to an address of welcome by Dr. Addinell
Hewson, I spoke as follows :

"Allow me, Mr. President, to thank you most cordially
for the kind words just addressed to me through your elo-
quent spokesman, and for the enthusiastic manner in
which they have been received by your distinguished
guests. Such a welcome is eminently grateful to our feel-
ings, and it is difficult for me to find language to express
my own sense of gratitude. The announcement, soon after
my arrival from Eiirope, that it was the intention of the
alumni and pupils of my Alma Mater to give my colleague,
Professor Pancoast, and myself a public reception took me,
I confess emphatically, by surprise. I was wholly unpre-
pared for such an honor. Now that I stand in the pres-
ence of this large assembly of my fellow-citizens, members
of the learned professions, the mercantile community, and
the various walks of literature, the arts, and sciences, the
question naturally arises. What have I done to merit this
distinguished honor ? Is it because I was temporarily ab-
sent in Europe ? Is it because of anything good or great
that I did before I went abroad ? If I were a great general,
just returned from the battlefield covered with glory and
crowned with laurels, I could readily comprehend the rea-
son for such a mark of your attention. But I am neither a

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 317

warrior nor a statesman, and have not been in any battle,
nor did I during my absence negotiate any treaty of peace,
of amity, or of commerce with any foreign power. I went
abroad and returned as a common citizen, proud, it is true,
of my profession and of my country.

" But although I am neither a warrior nor a statesman,
nor able to lay claim to any great discover}' or improve-
ment in my profession, I may confidently assert, without
fear of successful contradiction, that there is no man who
has watched that profession with a more jealous eye, or
who has taken a deeper interest in its prosperity, its honor,
and its dignity than I have. My loyalty and devotion have
never flagged. In all my intercourse I have never wilfully
wronged any human being, or done aught to cast discredit
upon its escutcheon. What Strabo said of the poet is
equally true of the physician ; no bad man can be the one
or the other. I have ever scrupulously respected the Hip-
pocratic oath.

' ' It was but a few weeks ago that I had the pleasure of
witnessing the proceedings and ceremonies attendant upon
the presentation of the freedom of the city of Edinburgh to
General Lord Napier, with whose exploits in Abyssinia, in
asserting the supremacy of the British army, every one is
familiar. It was pleasant to see the enthusiasm with
which this distinguished soldier was welcomed, and the
kindly feeling which was from all sides showered upon
him. Though he could not lay claim to the honor of
being a native of the city, he was nevertheless greeted as a
countryman, and the highest civic distinction in the gift
of the Scotch metropolis, so renowned for its illustrious
citizens, was freely awarded to him for the great and sig-
nal services he had rendered his native land. The swell-
ing emotions which animated the breast of the hero of
Magdala as he stood before that grand audience assembled
to do him honor were not greater than those which I ex-
perience upon this occasion. The wreath which entwined

3i8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

his brow was not dearer to him than this free offering of
your esteem and kindness is to me. I have accepted this
honor at your hands because, as was so gracefully ex-
pressed in the invitation of your gifted young secretary, it
was designed as an exhibition of the love and veneration
felt for me by my professional brethren, especially by the
alumni and pupils of a great medical college with whose
interests and prosperity my own have been closely identi-
fied for the last thirteen years ; an institution which may
boast of a noble parentage — of belonging, in fact, to one
of the ' first families, ' the daughter of a school of which
any land might justly be proud. I refer to the University
of Pennsylvania.

"I have accepted this honor because it is the highest
tribute which a man can receive from his fellow-citizens
and from the members of our own profession. I need not
say how deeply sensible I am of your kindness. I rejoice to
be again in the midst of those with whom I have so long
labored to uphold the honor and dignity of our noble profes-
sion, and in whose personal success I shall ever feel a deep,
nay, let me add, a parental interest. It is to me no less
gratifying than it is true, to be able to say that, during my
visit abroad, where I had an opportunity of seeing many
of our most distinguished brethren in the Old World, I saw
no more able, learned, or skilful practitioners, teachers,
and writers than are assembled here to-night. I think,
sir, that if a traveller learned nothing more than to appre-
ciate fully his country's greatness, he would be amply
compensated for the peril and expense of his voyage across
the Atlantic. As God made woman more beautiful and
perfect than man, because He created her last, so He en-
dowed this continent — this last and best gift to the human
race — ^with beauty and perfection nowhere visible in the
Old World.

"Every one acknowledges with a hearty free will the
extraordinary activity and enterprise of our physicians and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 319

surgeons and the rapid strides wliicli we are developing in
our national literature. Chassaignac, the great French
surgeon, said to my honored colleague and m^-self, in one
of our visits to the famous Lariboisiere Hospital, ' You have
just reason to be proud of your countr}\ America at this
moment wields the surgical sceptre of the world.' Our
militar}^ surgeons have no equals. The reports of the Sur-
geon-General of the United States are read with avidity,
and American works on medicine and surger>' are used in
the medical libraries of Europe.

" Although it would not be fair to judge a man's know-
ledge by the number of books he reads, yet there can be
no doubt that the more labor of this kind which he per-
forms, the more likely is his intelligence to be complete. It
was pleasing to hear our profession spoken of in terms of
high respect and commendation. As a nation, America
commands admiration. The works of Kent and Story are
in ever}^ lawyer's library in Great Britain ; and the writings
of Barnes, Hodge, Channing, and other divines are to be
found on the shelves of England, Scotland, and Ireland,

"It may be recollected that I was commissioned at the
last meeting of the American Medical Association at
Washington to represent that body in the British Medical
Association at its meeting last iVugust at Oxford, That
meeting v/as largely attended ; many of the members were
men of great eminence and learning, and every opportunity
was embraced by them to speak in the kindest manner of
their American brethren. Our delegates received a hearty
welcome, and everything was done to make them comfort-
able and happy during their sojourn at that great seat of
learning. From what transpired, there is reason to believe
that the Association will now be annually represented on
this side of the water.

"There is one thing that strikes an American in view-
ing the great literary and scientific and charitable institu-
tions of Europe with admiration such as he cannot feel for

320 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D,

his own. It is the respect which is everywhere shown to
the memory of their great and good men. Portraits, busts,
and statues adorn alike the halls of learning and of legisla-
tion, the courts of justice, the gallery, the hospital, and
the medical school ; and thus serve to inspire the visitor
not only with a love for his particular pursuit, but an am-
bition to excel in good works, and an admiration for a
people who know how to reward their servants while
living, and to cherish the memory of their virtues after
they are dead.

"In the hall of Christ Church College, Oxford, at the
great dinner of the British Medical Association, I felt, in
responding to the toast kindly offered in compliment to the
American delegation, as if every portrait in the large and
majestic room were watching me and saying, ' Hear ! hear !
hear ! ' and felt as if ten centuries were looking down upon
that grand and learned assembly. In our city, so distin-
guished for its charitable, literary, and scientific institu-
tions, there is a singular absence of everything of this
kind. We ha\'e not one solitary monument of a great
man, not even of Washington or of Franklin, to inspire
our youth with ambition or to warm the heart of a stranger
as he walks along our streets.

"But I must not prolong these remarks. Already I
have trespassed too much upon your patience. However,
before I take my seat, permit me again, Mr. President, to
thank you, and through you this large assembly of good
and great men, for the honor they have done me in coming
here this evening. I have been the recipient of perhaps as
many compliments as a man of my age and of my humble
position could expect, but of all that have been bestowed
upon me, this is the most precious to my feelings, and the
one which will be most cherished by my family long after
I shall have gone to ' that undiscovered country from whose
bourne no traveller returns.' "

CHAPTER XII.

SECOND VISIT TO EUROPE — RECEIVE DEGREE OF D. C. L. FROM. THE UNIVERSITY

OF OXFORD OXFORD — PRINCE HASSAN — THE UNIVERSITY — THE MUSEUM —

THE RADCLIFFE LIBRARY — EDWARD BOUVERIE PUSEY — HENRY WENTWORTH
ACLAND — SIR BENJAMIN BRODIE, BART. — LONDON — PRESENTED AT COURT —
SIR HENRY HOLLAND, BART. — ^THOMAS BEVILL PEACOCK — ST. THOMAS'S HOS-
PITAL THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY DAWLISH NUTWELL COURT

TORQUAY — BIRMINGHAM — LICHFIELD — THE SHOOTING SEASON — RETURN TO
AMERICA.

Early in May, 1872, I received a letter from my friend,
Professor Acland, of Oxford, informing me that, if I could
be present on Commemoration Day, in June, the Univer-
sity would confer upon me the degree of D. C. L. He said
that, if it had been known in time that I would be at Ox-
ford in August, 1868, during the meeting of the British
Medical Association, when that degree was conferred upon
Sir James Paget, Sir Thomas Locock, Sir William Gull,
Sir William Jenner, Professor James Syme, and Professor
William Stokes, I would have been included in the list.
As my dear wife was in poor health, rendering it probable
that change of air would be of great service to her, I had
thus a double motive for visiting Europe a second time.

My wife, my son A. Haller Gross, and myself left
Philadelphia on the 26th of May, having previously en-
gaged our passage on the steamer Russia, which sailed
the next day from New York. Nothing of importance
occurred during the voyage except that the vessel en-
countered some rough weather, and that we were all
three seasick, a fate which we experienced during our first
visit. The vessel reached Liverpool on Friday, June 7th.
The next day we were off for Oxford, where we arrived
late in the afternoon in a cold, drenching rain. Professor
I— 41 321

323

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Acland being kindly in waiting. The commencement ex-
ercises of the different colleges took place the following
week.

On Wednesday the one-thousandth Commemoration Day
of the University was celebrated. Shortly after half past
eleven o'clock the officers of the institution entered the
Sheldonian Theatre, headed by the mace-bearers, and im-
mediately followed by the Vice-Chancellor, the Rev. Dr.
Liddell, the doctors and the heads of houses, the proctors
and registrar bringing up the rear. My son and I had se-
cured good positions, so that we had a full view of the
procession. ' ' The organ struck up as the great gates were
flung open, and 'God save the Queen' was sung lustily
while the grave and reverend seigniors took their places. ' '
The Vice-Chancellor, a man of splendid physique, well
known in this country as one of the authors of Liddell &
Scott's Greek Dictionary, a work of wide celebrity, then
explained in a Latin speech that the object of the convo-
cation was the delivery of an oration in accordance with
the will of that excellent benefactor. Lord Crewe, followed
by the recitations of the prizemen. Although the amphi-
theatre for nearly two hours before the procession entered
was a bedlam of uproar and rude disorder only equalled by
the noise and confusion in the House of Commons when
some unfortunate wight rises to speak, from the moment
the Vice-Chancellor took his seat till he uttered the final
words, " Dissolvimus hanc convocationem," not a sound
was heard except the ordinary applause enthusiastically
given at the conclusion of each recitation. The audience
was large, and comprised many fashionable and influential
persons of both sexes, a large number of whom came
from a distance. The exercises, on the whole, did not
impress me favorably. They were cold and formal, and
not at all in harmony with what we witness on like occa-
sions on our side of the Atlantic. The undergraduates,
the lords of the galler>', behaved more like rowdies than

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 323

civilized beings. It was evidently their "free day,"
on which they felt at liberty to do pretty much what
they pleased. Hardly any person entered without being
cheered, and not a few were hissed. " The lady in blue,"
"The lady in black," "The lady with the white ostrich
feather in her hat, " " The lady with the cashmere shawl, ' '
and similar expressions resounded from every part of the
large theatre. That all this noise should have been suc-
ceeded by profound silence upon the entrance of the heads
of the University was astounding, and yet such was the fact.
On Thursday, June 13th, at eleven o'clock, a special
convocation was held at the Sheldonian Theatre for con-
ferring the honorary degrees upon the following gentle-
men :

1. His Highness Prince Hassan, son of the Khedive of
Egypt.

2. George Burrows, M. D., Caius College, Cambridge,
President of the Royal College of Physicians of London,
and formerly President of the General Medical Council.

3. Sir Benjamin Brodie, Bart, M. A., late Professor of
Chemistry.

4. Samuel David Gross, M. D., LL. D., Professor of
Surgery in the Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia.

These were the only exercises performed on the occasion.
Each candidate as his name was called was addressed in
Latin by the usher, after which he mounted the platform
and shook hands with the Vice-Chancellor ; and thus ended
a ceremony which to most persons must have seemed very
tame. No diplomas were issued to the recipients of these
honors. Each candidate, arrayed in the customan,' red
gown, with white gloves, and a four-cornered hat in hand,
was cheered as his name was announced. I may add that
a special day was chosen for these exercises, because the
year before the authorities had great difficulty, on Com-
memoration Day, in securing order, and it was apprehended
that there might be a recurrence of the turbulence.

324 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

In the evening the Commemoration Dinner was given
in the great dining-hall of the University, the Vice-Chan-
cellor, Rev. Dr. Liddell, occupying the chair, supported
on the right by Dean Stanley and on the left by Lord
Roseberry. My seat was in front of the Vice-Chancellor's,
and on my right sat Sir Thomas Gladstone, brother of the
Premier, a member of Parliament, and a large landholder
in the north of Scotland, his residence. Several speeches
were made, the best of which was that of Dean Stanley ;
and the entertainment was to me, stranger as I was, a
very pleasant one. My neighbor, Sir Thomas, was quite
chatty. He made some complimentary remarks respecting
the United States, and gave me a cordial invitation to visit
him at his home in the Highlands, to see his lands and
especially his sheep, of which, he said, he had large flocks
of the choicest varieties. About one hundred gentlemen
sat down to dinner.

A few evenings after the anniversary, Prince Hassan
gave a splendid entertainment to the heads of colleges
and to the citizens of Oxford. Many invited guests
were present, and the occasion was one of general
merry-making. Temporary buildings were erected under
canvas for the accommodation of the immense crowd ;
the choicest flowers were everywhere seen in profusion ;
dancing commenced early and was kept up until a late
hour in the morning; and ices and fruits were served
durinof the entire evening. The whole affair was bril-
liant, worthy of the son of a great prince rolling in wealth
and luxury. Young Hassan, I was informed, spent his
money lavishly while a member of the University, and
this, added to his gentle manners, was doubtless the secret
of his popularity. In his appearance there was nothing
whatever of a prepossessing character. He was of small
stature, with a rather dark complexion, and his counte-
nance showed no evidence of intellect or special culture.
He was simply a clever youth, using the word in the

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 325

American, not the English, sense. It was his father's
desire that, on leaving the University, he should spend
several years in travel and foreign study. In 1877 I
learned to my surprise that the young Prince, after having
acquired a military education at Woolwich and Berlin,
had been made Commander-in-Chief of the Egyptian con-
tingent on the Danube, and had already acquired some
experience as a soldier. It is related of him that, being
taken prisoner by King John of Abyssinia, a large cross
was, as a punishment, tattooed on the back of each of
his hands. In vain did he seek after his release the advice
of the most skilful physicians to rid him of these disagree-
able reminders of his capture, and rather than take the
advice of the dervdsh who suggested the unique remedy of
the amputation of both hands he is said to seek to hide
the blemishes by wearing gloves.

There is much in and about Oxford to interest a stran-
ger. The town itself, wnth its ancient wall, its quaint
buildings, its botanic garden, and its charming situation
upon the banks of the Cherwell and the Isis, is well
worth a visit ; but the interest is vastly increased when
we remember that the city is the seat of the greatest Uni-
versity, not only in Great Britain, but in the world — em-
bracing within less than a mile and a half in diameter
upwards of twenty separate college edifices, many of them
dating back six to eight centuries, all erected on a grand
scale, with ample accommodations for their pupils and fel-
lows, and surrounded, for the most part, by spacious
grounds, embellished with trees, shrubber\', and flowers.
The very atmosphere exhales a classical odor. It is the
place where, above all others, one would like to be edu-
cated and to pursue one's studies in after-life. Lately
several new colleges have been added, so that the number
of colleges and halls at present is not fewer, if my memory
serves me, than twenty-four. Among the more interesting
objects to the visitor to Oxford are its libraries and Uni-

336 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

versity Museum. The Museum is a noble quadrangular
edifice in the mediaeval style, situated upon a large lot of
ground, and was opened in 1868. It contains already an
immense collection of specimens in the various branches of
natural history, botany, and zoology, and is provided with
numerous lecture-rooms for the efficient teaching of the
natural sciences. Indeed, the object in erecting this vast
building was that it should serve as a great school for
the study of the natural sciences under the leadership of
separate professors — men devoted to the cultivation and
illustration of specialties. To the disinterested and ardu-
ous exertions of my friend. Professor Acland, the institu-
tion is much indebted for the success which has attended
it since its opening. Unfortunately the outlays have been
very heavy ; and I have recently learned that the manage-
ment is somewhat crippled for the want of funds to place
the Museum upon a proper footing.

Of the four principal libraries at Oxford, the most note-
worthy is the Bodleian, opened in 1602, and comprising
at present nearly three hundred thousand volumes. The
Radcliffe Librar}^, founded in the eighteenth century, was
endowed under the will of Dr. John Radcliffe, who left
forty thousand pounds for that purpose, besides one hun-
dred pounds a year for its increase, and one hundred and
fifty pounds as a salary for the librarian. The collection,
which has been steadily growing in extent and value, was
originally largely composed of works on medicine and nat-
ural history. In addition to this munificent bequest, Rad-
cliffe left a large sum of money for the establishment of an
observatory, with a dwelling-house for the resident, and a
lecture-room furnished with all the means and appliances
necessary for the study and illustration of astronomy. It
is flattering to one's vanity to know that a physician — one
who rose to great distinction by the force of his own
genius — did all these things for this noble institu-
tion. Radcliffe was emphatically the architect of his own

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 327

fortune. Bom in 1650, he entered University College,
Oxford, at fifteen, became B. M. in 1675, and M. D. in
1682, and soon acquired an extensive, lucrative, and influen-
tial practice. Before he had attained middle age he re-
moved to London, where he soon laid the foundation of
the large wealth which he so wisely devoted to educa-
tional purposes. Although he possessed more than ordi-
nary talents and attainments, he was coarse and brusque
in his manners, sometimes indeed almost brutal, often in-
dulged in ill-timed jests, and probably said more rude
things than any physician before or since his day. His
remarks to King William were characteristic. It is related
that when his Majesty, showing him his swollen ankles,
which formed a striking contrast to his emaciated body,
asked him, ' ' Doctor, what do you think of these ?" " Why,
truly," said he, "I would not have your Majesty's two
legs for your three kingdoms."

Radcliffe is not the only physician whose name and mu-
nificence are indissolubly associated with this great insti-
tution. Dr. Thomas Linacre, born nearly two centuries
previously, endowed two lectureships on medicine in Mer-
ton College, Oxford; and another in St. John's College,
Cambridge. He was distinguished for his learning and
practical skill, and immortalized himself as the founder
of the Royal College of Physicians of London. An
eminent Greek scholar, he was the first Professor of Greek
in the University of Oxford, in which he delivered lectures
on medicine ; and he furnished an elegant translation of
the works of Galen. After his removal to London he
rapidly rose in reputation and influence, and was appointed
court physician by Henr\' VHI.

What Linacre and Radcliffe did for Oxford Dr. John
Kaye, more generally known by his Latinized name of
Cains, did for Cambridge. Born in 15 10, he was succes-
sively physician to Edward VI., Queen Mary, and Queen
Elizabeth ; enjoyed great distinction as a practitioner, au-

328 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

thor, antiquarian, Greek and Latin scholar ; and founded
Caius College, Cambridge, which, to use the language of
another, "is to this day the chief medical college in that
celebrated University." To these great men England, it
is said, is greatly indebted for important advances in her
literature soon after the revival of learning ; yet Shakes-
peare caricatured Caius in his Merry Wives of Windsor,
very much as Aristophanes caricatured Socrates in his
play of the Clouds.

During our sojourn at Oxford constant attentions were
showered upon us by prominent citizens and by members
of the University. Among these none were more kind and
considerate than the Acland family, who, from the mo-
ment of our arrival until the time of our departure, more
than a fortnight after, could apparently not do enough
for us. We were welcome in this family alike at break-
fast, dinner, and at tea, as well as at every hour of the day
and evening. At the social gatherings of the Vice-Chan-
cellor and of his accomplished wife and daughters we met
many distinguished personages ; and at Professor Rolles-
ton's I had the pleasure of dining with Dr., now Sir,
George Burrows, President of the Royal College of Physi-
cians of London, and with Mrs. Burrows, a daughter of
Mr. John Abernethy, the celebrated London surgeon, who
rendered such important services to his profession, and of
whom so many odd sayings and curious anecdotes have
been related. The presence of the daughter, a charming
woman, served to recall to us, during and after the repast,
the vivacity and flashes of genius of her illustrious father.
Mrs. RoUeston is a daughter of Dr. John Davy, and a
niece of Sir Humphry. Her husband, a fine conversa-
tionalist, an accomplished scholar, an eminent scientist,
and a follower of Darwin and Huxley, is Professor of
Phj'^siology in the University.

One of the most interesting persons I met with at Ox-
ford was Dr. Pusey, one of the authors of the celebrated

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 329

Tracts for the Times. He had been confiued for some
weeks by a species of felon upon one of his fingers, for
which he was attended by my friend Acland. Having
heard me express a strong desire to see so celebrated
and learned a personage, one who had acquired so great
a reputation by his controversial writings, that gentle-
man kindly took me, early one morning, to Dr. Pusey's
room. We found the divine seated in his arm-chair, in
a dreamy mood, unshaved, and not particularly neat in his
toilet. He was an old-looking man, of medium height,
with a pleasing countenance shaded by heavy eyebrows,
and a soft, agreeable voice. The conversation turned
upon the topics of the day, in which he seemingly took
little interest. After having sat for about fifteen minutes,
during which we carefully inspected the disloyal finger,
and offered some suggestions respecting its treatment, we
took our leave. I had seen in person the author of Pusey-
ism, and that was something to be proud of. At the time
of this interview Dr. Pusey was seventy-two years of age,
having been born in 1800. He looked decidedly older;
hard mental labor and mental excitement had evidently
made serious inroads upon his constitution.

I had been entertained at the house of Dr. Acland four
years previously during the meeting of the British Medical
Association, and it was therefore a source of no little grati-
fication to me to greet him again. Of all my English
friends there is not one for whom I cherish a warmer
attachment. Of a highly respectable family, the son of
Sir Thomas Acland, of Devonshire, his name has long been
intimately associated with the interests of the University
of Oxford and of the medical profession in Great Britain.
For many years he has been Regius Professor of Medicine
in the University, and at the time above referred to he was
President of the British Medical Association, and of course
presided at the annual dinner. Much of what he has writ-
ten of late years relates to sanitary medicine; and there

330 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

is no physician in England, with the exception of Mr.
Simon, who has done so much as he has to popularize
that branch of science. Since my last visit. Dr. Acland
was appointed President of the General Council of Medi-
cal Education, a government office of which any man
might justly be proud, as it is one of the highest positions
to which he can aspire. He has a large and influential
practice, and is Honorary Physician to the Prince of Wales,
whom, in his visit to this country in i860, he accompanied
as medical adviser. I may add that he is emphatically a
friend of progress, and a live man in every sense of the
term.

Sir Benjamin Brodie, who was associated with me in
the D. C. L. decoration, is a son of the famous surgeon,
the late Sir Benjamin Collins Brodie, who occupied for
nearly half a century so large a space in the professional
and public eye of Great Britain, and whose writings, sur-
gical and physiological, have been so widely disseminated
and highly appreciated on both sides of the Atlantic as to
render his name a household word. The son, not having
imbibed any taste for surgery, has not followed in the foot-
steps of his father. He has sought out other paths for
the exercise of his talents. Soon after I left Oxford
the public journals announced that he had resigned the
chair of Chemistry which he had so worthily filled for a
number of years in the University. My dear wife, my
son, and myself brought away with us pleasant recollec-
tions of the evening we spent with his charming and
accomplished family at his beautiful villa near the banks
of the Isis. I learned that Sir Benjamin had been an
industrious worker in his laboratory, and had lectured
with much acceptableness to his pupils. Daubeny, the
great botanist, had died some time before our visit. His
humble tomb, bearing a simple inscription, is in the court-
yard of one of the colleges, a short distance from the gar-
den in which he spent so much of his time and wrote some

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 331

of his ablest works. No flowers decorated his grave. He
was a bachelor, and bachelors are soon forgotten. Profes-
sor Phillips, the eminent geologist, a small, old, delicate-
looking man, rather inclined to reticency, I met several
times, but was not particularly impressed with his appear-
ance, manners, or conversation.

The medical schools of Oxford and Cambridge, although
ofiicered by some very able men, as, for instance, Acland
and Rolleston in the fonner, and Humphry and Paget in
the latter, are small, as stated in a former page, most of the
graduates of the University preferring to seek their medi-
cal knowledge in London and Edinburgh, owing to their
greater facilities for the study of anatomy and clinical
medicine. Botany, zoology, and comparative anatomy
are included in the curriculum of both institutions ; and
in each there are a number of competitive scholarships.
At Oxford a Radcliffe travelling fellowship of two hundred
pounds is annually competed for, to enable the successful
candidate to continue his medical pursuits abroad. The
period of study is three years.

We left Oxford for London in June and went into lodg-
ings at No. 8 Princes Street, opposite the Hotel Brunswick,
a fashionable part of the city. On Saturday, the 2 2d,
through the courtesy of the American Minister, General
Schenck, I was able to attend the levee of the Prince of
Wales at St. James's Palace, having previously been sup-
plied by the Secretary of Legation, IVIr. IVIoran, with a
ticket of admission, accompanied with a short sword and
a chapeau, articles always required on such occasions.
The event was to me as novel as it was interesting. The
ceremonies commenced at two o'clock in the afternoon.
The Prince stood in the centre of a long room, leaning
with his back gently against a kind of railing, and each
gentleman as he approached him made a respectful bow
and passed on. His familiar acquaintances shook hands
with him and exchanged more or less cordial salutations.

332

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

In the procession I was immediately behind Dr. Liddell,
Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford, his former
preceptor, and he of course was cordially greeted. The
assemblage was a large one, and was made doubly in-
teresting by the attendance of the foreign ambassadors,
arrayed in their national costumes. The Chinese, Japan-
ese, and East India representatives attracted especial atten-
tion by their gay colors and flowing robes. The Prince
himself was dressed in the plainest manner, and looked
just as if he wished the thing was over.

A few weeks after this levee I met the Prince at a
garden party at Lauderdale House, Highgate, six miles
from London, on the occasion of the opening of the
grounds as a retreat for the convalescent patients of St.
Bartholomew's Hospital, the generous gift for seven years
of Sir Sidney Waterlow. A large company was present,
including the Princess of Wales, a number of the nobility,
and many prominent citizens. The Prince, who accepted
the gift in behalf of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, made
a brief but pertinent address, which elicited rapturous
applause. The meeting then adjourned to the grounds,
where refreshments were served in abundance, enlivened
by conversation and music, while in a large mansion near
by the Prince and Princess received their friends. Through
the courtesy of Sir James Paget I had the honor of being
personally presented to the Prince and of talking with him
for some time, during which he was kind enough to refer
to my Oxford degree, then recently conferred, and to speak
in complimentary terms of his visit to this country in i860.
One of the queerest persons present on this interesting
occasion was Lady Burdett-Coutts, the wealthy philan-
thropist. She patiently waited near the gate for the arrival
of the royal party, and the moment they approached her
she made a courtesy so profound that her knees must have
almost touched the pavement.

We dined on Monday, June 24th, wdth Sir Francis and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 333

Lady Drake, the proprietors of Nutwell Court, South
Devon, and other hereditary estates, once the property of
Sir Francis Drake, the great navigator in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. Lady Drake is the daughter of Lady
Douglas, a first cousin of my wife. Sir Francis and Lady
Drake always pass the season in London, and of course
live in elegant style. The dinner on this occasion was a
handsome one. Before we took our leave they extended
to us a cordial invitation to spend a week with them in
July at Nutwell Court.

On June 25th, at nine o'clock, I breakfasted with Sir
Henry Holland, at his residence on Upper Brook Street.
My first interview with him occurred during the visit of
the Prince of Wales to this country, in i860, at a dinner
given to him at the Philadelphia Club by the British Con-
sul, Mr. Kortright. Only a few gentlemen were present.
Dr. Robley Dunglison had been invited, but was unable to
attend on account of indisposition. It was, if I mistake
not. Sir Henry's fifth visit to the United States. The con-
versation during the dinner was of a discursive kind, but
the principal topic was the Prince, then quite a youth —
his general bearing, his sagacious observations as a tourist,
his keen remarks, the dignity of his demeanor, and matters
of a similar nature, all expressive of admiration of His
Royal Highness, The laudations of Sir Henry, who ac-
companied the Prince as Physician-in-Chief, were especially
emphatic ; so much so, indeed, as to savor somewhat of
snobbism. How I might have been impressed if I had
been an Englishman I do not know ; but looking at the
matter from an American standpoint it was impossible to
interpret his language in any other manner. The dinner
in the main was a dull affair, and of short duration, as Sir
Henry had a pressing engagement, and the evening was
already far advanced when we sat down at table. I did
not meet with him again until I saw him at his own
house in 1872. When I called he was out ; but late in

334

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the afternoon he sent me a note, inviting me to breakfast
the following morning at nine o'clock, adding that Mr.
Fronde, the historian, would be the only other person
present, apart from his family, which, I found, consisted
of himself and of two maiden daughters. I do not know
whether I should include in this enumeration a favorite
lap-dog, of which one of the ladies in particular seemed
to be extremely fond. Mr. Froude did not arrive until
the breakfast, consisting of tea, toast, eggs, and mutton-
chops, was more than half over, saying, by way of excuse,
that he had been buttonholed by an old friend whom he
had not seen for a long time, and from whom he could
not extricate himself sooner. The meal was, in all re-
spects, an informal one, and therefore quite free and
easy. Sir Henry inquired with special solicitude about
the health of his old friend, Mrs. Gilpin, whose guest he
had been during some of his visits to this country, and
about the condition and prospects of our colored people,
in whose welfare he appeared to take more than ordinary
interest. Mr. Froude, who had very little to say, addressed
himself principally to the ladies, the elder of whom pre-
sided with great dignity at the head of the table. Precisely
as the clock struck ten Sir Henry excused himself and
rose, saying he was obliged to fulfil an engagement. The
rest of us sat a little longer, when, after an interchange of
the civilities usual on such an occasion, we took our leave.
At the door, at parting, I said to Mr. Froude, "I under-
stand you are coming to Philadelphia ; if so, it will afford
me pleasure to renew my acquaintance with you, and to
tender to you the hospitalities of my house." It happened,
however, that I did not meet with him, as he was con-
stantly on the wing during the delivery of his lectures in
New York and Philadelphia. His lectures failed to attract
large audiences, and my impression is that he went back
disappointed, as he came on a pecuniary speculation.
Great writers are not always, or even generally, good

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 335

speakers ; and a lecturer, if he has not some oratorical
ability, may as well be silent.

Sir Henry had none of the characteristics of a great man
in his personal appearance. In stature he was scarcely of
medium height, and his head exhibited no marks of ex-
traordinary intellectual development. Yet he was a man
of decided ability. He had great powers of observation,
united with all the advantages of a classical education,
high culture, and high social position. Taking his degree
in medicine at Edinburgh at the time when that school
was in the height of its glor}', he soon after settled in
London, where he rapidly acquired practice, and ultimately
rose to the highest professional eminence. Knighted, and
appointed physician to the Queen, honors, foreign and
domestic, were showered upon him, and he became liter-
ally a child of Fortune. That he was an accomplished
practitioner, full of resources in cases of emergency, is
well known ; and his Medical Notes and Reflections, pub-
lished at an early period of his career, show him to have
been an able thinker and a vigorous writer. INIuch of his
professional labor was consultation practice among the no-
bility and the higher circles of London society. For many
years during his summer vacation he spent regularly from
two to three months in travelling, visiting many countries,
some, such as the United States, repeatedly, and thus
making himself personally familiar with the habits and
customs of the people with whom he was brought into
contact. The income from his practice during these years
rarely, as he himself informs us, exceeded twenty thousand
dollars annually. His work, entitled Recollections of a
Professional Life, issued a few years before his death,
reflects but little credit upon his taste or judgment. It is
a kind of diary, written by a man who seems anxious to
show himself off as a man of the world, and to tell us the
names, if nothing more, of the distinguished people with
whom chance had made him acquainted.

336 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

His wanderings in distant lands were of great advan-
tage to him. Tliey afforded him thorough relaxation
from the cares and anxieties of practice, invigorated his
mind and body, and enabled him the better to perform his
arduous work during the coming months. He always, im-
mediately on reaching home, resumed his wonted profes-
sional labors. ' ' The new methods of intercommunication
since steam and electricity have held empire on the earth
often," he says, "enabled me to make engagements for the
very moment of my return. I recollect having found a pa-
tient waiting in my room when I came back from those
mountain heights, more than two hundred miles from the
frontier of Persia, where ten thousand Greeks uttered their
joyous cr>^ on the sudden sight of the empire. The same
thing once happened to me on returning from Egypt and
Syria, when I found a carriage waiting my arrival at Lon-
don Bridge to take me to a consultation in Sussex Square ;
the communications in each case being made from points
on my homeward journey. More than once, in returning
from America, I have begun a round of visits from the
Euston vStation."

The Sunday before we left London for South Devon I
saw Sir Henry for the last time, apparently somewhat
feeble, but full of animation and cleverness. We were
spending the evening with Sir James Paget and his family,
and he came in at a late hour to take leave of them, prior
to his departure, a few days after, for the Cape of Good
Hope. My wife had a long conversation with him about
the Princess Caroline, but he was, perhaps properly, en-
tirely non-committal. The voyage, I believe, was of
some benefit to him ; but he never completely regained
his strength, and died in October, 1873. He was twice
married. His last wife was a daughter of Sydney Smith, a
woman of high culture and great intellect. A portrait of
her father graced the wall of our breakfast-room.

This evening, June 25th, at seven o'clock, Dr. Thomas

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 337

Bevill Peacock gave me a dinner. As he is a widower, no
ladies were present. Among the guests were Dr. Barker,
Mr. Gay, Mr. Croft, Liebreich, Weber, MacCormac, Hutch-
inson, and my son. The repast was select and enjoy-
able. Dr. Peacock, an excellent gentleman and physi-
cian, had dined with me, but quite informally, a few
summers before in Philadelphia, and I therefore appre-
ciated this compliment all the more. As an author he
is well known ; his works and monographs on malforma-
tions and morbid conditions of the heart have given him a
world-wide reputation. In the London Hospital for Con-
sumptives, Victoria Park, of which he is one of the physi-
cians, there is a large and valuable collection — the result
mainly of his own labors — of specimens illustrative of
these disorders. Our appreciation of Dr. Peacock on this
side of the Atlantic will be better understood when I state
that he was recently elected a member of the College of
Physicians of Philadelphia.

On June 26th my wife, my son, and I lunched with
Mr. and I\Irs. Erichsen, after which I accompanied Mr.
Erichsen to University College Hospital to see him excise
the wrist-joint of a young girl according to Mr. Lister's
method, a complicated and tedious procedure. He was
followed by Mr. Berkley Hill with a resection of a knee-
joint. The hospital is kept in excellent condition.

At five o'clock in the afternoon I went to the Royal Col-
lege of Physicians to listen to the Harveian oration, deliv-
ered by Dr. Arthur Farre. Dr. George Burrows, the presi-
dent, in his robes, was in the chair. The oration, which
was excellent, well worded, and well delivered, gave an
account of Harvey's works and of his views on genera-
tion. The audience was not large but attentive, and the
address elicited frequent applause. It is one of the require-
ments of the college that such an oration be delivered
every three years, and a prominent Fellow is always se-
lected for that purpose. After the exercises were con-
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338 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

eluded, Dr. Burrows showed me Harvey's preparations
illustrative of the circulation of the blood.

In the evening I was present at the anniversar}^ dinner
given by Dr. George Burrows, as President of the Royal
College of Physicians, at his residence, No. 8 Cavendish
Square, to some of the more prominent Fellows. It was
in every sense a handsome and enjoyable entertainment.
Invitations to about thirty Fellows, including the heads
of the army and navy, had been sent out a fortnight
previously. Among the guests upon whom all eyes were
centred was one who has achieved a vast reputation as
a scientist — Richard Owen, the naturalist, a tall, noble
figure, in whose presence most men, whatever their profes-
sional stature may be, feel insignificant, and yet who is so
gentle and so modest that any one unacquainted with him
would take him for an ordinary' man. Sir Thomas Watson
had been expected to be at the dinner, but a day or so be-
fore it took place he lost his brother, and I was thus deprived
of the pleasure of seeing him. Dr. Burrows is one of
the three gentlemen with whom I received the degree of
D. C. L. at Oxford a few weeks before he gave this dinner,
and the Queen, one of whose physicians he is, conferred
upon him several years afterwards the honor of knight-
hood with a baronetcy. Sir George occupies a high posi-
tion as a practitioner, writer, and scholar.

On June 29th my son and I breakfasted at ten o'clock
with Mr. Mowbray, Member of Parliament for Oxford, at
Onslow Gardens, a pretty suburban residence at least three
miles from our lodgings, a long and disagreeable drive.
We found the family very agreeable, chatty, and cordial.
Mr. Mowbray was most kind to us in showing us through
the two Houses of Parliament, and pointing out to us
the more prominent members. He presented us to Sir
Roundell Palmer, afterwards distinguished as Baron Sel-
borne, who had just returned from the Geneva Arbitration,
and with whom we had a pleasant conversation.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 339

At two in the afternoon I drove to King's College Hos-
pital, where I saw Henr\' Smith, my old friend, resect the
elbow-joint of a young man on account of gelatinoid de-
generation ; and afterwards Sir William Fergusson per-
form staphylorraphy, an operation in which he has earned
reputation as the great English pioneer. The patient, a
young man, only partially under the influence of chloro-
form, struggled very much, and bled profusely. The op-
eration involved the hard palate ; Thomas Smith's gag
was used.

In the evening, at a quarter to eight, I dined with Sir
James Paget. The company consisted of sixteen persons,
Dr. Tilbury Fox being the only medical man present. I
talked a great deal about America with Lord Blatchford,
a very intelligent gentleman. The entertainment was
agreeable. The learned host and hostess were especially
courteous.

At ten o'clock I went with Sir James to a conversazio7te
at the hall of the College of Physicians. The attendance
was large, and there were present many eminent medical
men of London. I was introduced to Carpenter, Gull,
Bowman, Balfour, Martin, and others. An ingenious elec-
tric bullet forceps, the invention of Dr. John Taylor, was
exhibited, and attracted much attention. Tea, coffee, cake
and ices were served. The hall was hung with portraits
of Harvey, Jenner, Hewson, and many other great men,
whose name and fame are indissolubly associated with the
progress of medicine in England.

Mr. John Gay was, as usual, most hospitable. He
kindly insisted upon my dining with him and his chann-
ing wife at their beautiful villa at Hampstead, six miles
from London. My son and I accordingly went out on
Sunday, June 30th, Mrs. Gross being too indisposed to
accompany us.

On July 2d I went with Mr. Joseph T. Clover, the
London chloroformist, to witness an ovariotomy by Mr.

340 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Graily Hewitt. The operation was dexterously performed,
without parade, and with as few words as could well be
imagined. If I were to say, "without unnecessary
words, ' ' my meaning would be more accurately conveyed.
Mr. Clover informed me that he had now administered
chloroform with his peculiar apparatus between eight
and nine thousand times without a solitary accident.
His ordinary fee for this service, I am told, is two
guineas. Mr. Hewitt's reticence reminds me of what I
have often noticed — that there are generally not enough
quiet and composure on the part of our surgeons and their
assistants during operations, especially those demanding
great skill and self-possession. There should be no con-
versation, no unnecessary movements, no appearance of
haste or of indecision ; all the necessary arrangements
should be made beforehand ; the assistants should be
thoroughly instructed in their duties, and every means
adopted to anticipate and meet emergencies. A display
of instruments is always out of place, and cannot be too
pointedly condemned. Nothing savors so much of char-
latanism.

During our sojourn in London we met with unceasing
attention from our old friends. On the 4th of July
I dined with the Fellows of the Royal College of Sur-
geons at their anniversary dinner, and had a pleasant
time. Sir William Fergusson presided, and the meeting
did not break up until near midnight. I was of course
called upon to make a speech. Fergusson spoke with grace
and dignity, and in every respect acquitted himself well.
More than two hundred Fellows were present.

We also dined with Mrs. Douglas Douglas, of Orsett
Terrace, a cousin of my wife ; with Mr. John Croft,
the eminent surgeon and genial gentleman, whose wife
is also a cousin ; and with several other persons of dis-
tinction. Mr., now Sir Joseph, Fayrer breakfasted with
me at my lodgings early in July. He had recently re-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 341

turned from Calcutta after an absence of twenty years,
and he told me many things of interest respecting India,
among others that fully twenty thousand people are annu-
ally destroyed in that country by poisonous snakes, and
that many besides are killed by lions, tigers, and ele-
phants. This statement might seem incredible were it
not vouched for by authentic statistics. Mr. Fayrer is
now engaged upon the composition of an elaborate work
upon the snakes of India, of which he has kindly promised
to send me a copy. He was Professor of Surgery in the
Medical College of Calcutta, and is the author of a valu-
able work on surgery, besides numerous contributions to
our periodical literature.

During this visit I attended, through an invitation kindly
extended to me by ]\Ir, John Croft of the surgical staff of
vSt. Thomas's Hospital, the distribution of the competitive
prizes in that ancient and celebrated institution in the
chapel of the new and magnificent edifice on the west
bank of the Thames, almost immediately opposite the
Parliament Houses. A large assembly was in attendance,
including many gentlemen and ladies of distinction. The
meeting was presided over by the Archbishop of Canter-
bur>', who opened it with prayer. As the name of each
successful candidate was announced he was presented to
his grace by one of the hospital staff in a neat little ad-
dress setting forth his merits and offering kind words of
encouragement. These exercises were followed by an
address by the Archbishop, of about half an hour's dura-
tion, in which he spoke in the most kind and feeling
manner of the medical profession, of its divine character,
and of the vast benefits which it is daily and hourly con-
ferring upon the human race. Next to his own profession,
he said the medical occupied the loftiest position in its
power of doing good, and in the exalted character of its
members. He dwelt with peculiar emphasis upon the
hardships of the medical life, and of the unrequited ser-

343 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

vices of medical men, adding that they must not always
expect their reward in this world but have higher aims
and aspirations. Towards the close of the address, which
was listened to with great attention, and which was deliv-
ered in a very plain, gentle, and parental manner, his
grace extended a cordial invitation to the students who
attend the summer classes to visit the grounds of Lambeth
Palace, within a few squares of St. Thomas's, for exercise
and recreation — a kindness worthy of the greatest praise
and of the pure and benevolent character of the head of the
Anglican Church.

St. Thomas's Hospital, one of the largest institutions
of the kind in the world, is worthy of passing notice. It
was originally an almshouse, situated opposite Guy's Hos-
pital and founded in the early part of the thirteenth cen-
tury. Its site is one of the most desirable in London.
The new building, the erection of which occupied more
than seven years, cost three millions of dollars, and is
provided with every convenience and comfort for the ac-
commodation of patients and for efficient clinical teaching.
A most agreeable feature of the very commodious and
thoroughly ventilated wards is the display of engravings
upon the walls, illustrative of scenes in the Bible and in
general history, well calculated to interest and gratify the
inmates and to divert their attention from their suffer-
iupfs. The little stands were covered with flowers. The
medical school connected with this Hospital has educated
many of the most distinguished men in the kingdom ; and
the hospital staffs, who perform the teaching, have always
been very able. In the days of the Clines and Sir Astley
Cooper the schools of St Thomas and of Guy were united,
and the great works of the latter on Hernia, the Testes,
and the Mammary Gland, all immortal productions, were
based upon observations made by him in the two institu-
tions. In 1868, during my first visit to London, the sur-
gical staff consisted of Solly, Le Gros Clark, and Simon ;

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 343

the medical, of J. R. Bennett, Peacock, and Bristowe ;
and the obstetrical, of Barnes — names widely known in
this and other countries. In 1872 I found that Sydney
Jones and my friends John Croft and Mr. MacCormac,
formerly of Belfast, all excellent operators, had been
added to the surgical staff, the first two after having for
a number of years acted as assistants. Some changes,
owing to death and resignations, had also taken place in
the medical staff. The teaching in the medical school is
conducted on a large scale, and there are two sessions, in
each of which clinical instruction occupies an important
place.

When the services were ended I was invited into an
adjoining room, where I was presented to the Archbishop
and Mrs. and Miss Tait, three tall persons, his grace being
more than six feet in height, and, withal, ver>' slender,
not in the least denotive of the good living which so gen-
erally falls to the lot of even the ordinary clergy, to say
nothing of those in high life, who always live upon the
fat of the land. He is evidently very amiable, conscien-
tious, and pious, but hardly any one would suppose him to
be a great man. His liberal principles have greatly en-
deared him to the English people. As primate of all Eng-
land and the first peer of the realm he necessarily exerts
much influence in the House of Lords as well as in the
Church. The interest which he showed in 1877 in the
passage of what is called the Burial Bill, by which dis-
senters shall be permitted the privilege of burial in parish
grounds, was a move, as it would be considered in this
country, in the right direction, and gives him a warm
claim to the gratitude of a large and deserving class of
people. It is amazing that in an age so enlightened as
this is such prejudices should have been tolerated so long.
Every citizen of England is taxed for the support of the
Church, and it would therefore seem to be only right that
every man should have an interest in its burial grounds.

344 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and not be treated like a dog when he knocks for admis-
sion to rights to which he is plainly entitled. The passage
of the bill in the House of Lords was evidently due to the
great personal and official influence of the Archbishop.

There was a singular story in circulation during my
visit to England in regard to the manner in which Dr.
Tait obtained his appointment. The Queen, it seems, was
much attached to him, and having learned that he had
been plunged into the very depths of affliction by the loss
of several of his children in rapid succession, she concluded
that she could show her sympathy in no better way than
by elevating him to the Archbishopric of Canterbury.

My wife having promised a visit to her cousin. Lady
Douglas, of Dawlish, South Devon, we left London on the
9th of July and reached our destination at four o'clock in
the afternoon. We had a cordial welcome. Everything
was in readiness for us at her pretty residence, known as
Bursledon House, and no effort was spared to contribute
to our happiness during the week in which we were her
guests. Excursions were made throughout the neighbor-
hood, and among other places of interest we visited Exeter
Cathedral, a grand old structure, of which Lady Douglas
long ago made so thorough a study that she is perfectly
familiar with the minutest details of its history ; she
proved a most instructive guide to us. Almost every day
some persons were invited to join us at meals ; and on the
third day after our arrival an elegant luncheon was given
us by the Vicar of Br>'anstone, the Rev. Mr. Clark, an
intimate friend of our hostess ; followed at half past seven
by a dinner party at Bursledon House.

Of Lady Douglas, with whom I have long carried on a
correspondence, my wife entered the following note in her
memorandum-book : ' ' She is different from any one I have
ever known, with great ability, learning, and wonderful
powers of conversation. She has given up the world and
society, and seems to maintain over herself a rigid disci-

SAMUEL n. GROSS, M. D. 345

pline and watchfulness. She is devoted to the church.
Exeter Cathedral is her especial delight ; and she has ren-
dered important service in deciphering and explaining the
old inscriptions and bosses on the arches. She has given
money towards the restoration of the building, and some
years ago she contributed a beautiful chalice-veil to St.
Paul's in London at the convocation there. She is very
religious, and I cannot but respect the self-denial to which
she subjects herself." I might say much more of this
noble-hearted woman ; I might speak of her remarkable
learning, of her inquisitive mind, of her great refinement,
of her artistic tastes, of her unaffected piety ; but if I were
to do this, I should, I am sure, incur her displeasure.

Our next visit was to Nutwell Court, where, as at
Dawlish, we spent one week as the guests of Sir Francis
and Lady Drake. Nutwell Court is one of the places
of mark in English histor>\ It is a beautiful spot, with
large grounds and a noble old hall, a present of the
English government to Sir Francis Drake, the great sailor
who saved England by destroying the Spanish Armada
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. The house abounds
in relics. The library contains a fine collection of the
works of English and foreign authors, mostly in quarto
and folio editions of the sixteenth centur}'. Among other
bocks is Sir Francis Drake's Bible in black letter and a
copy of the Bishop's Bible, with the inscription on the fly-
leaf, "All around ye world." His sword, belt, and cha-
peau, and the trumpet used by him at sea are preserv^ed
with scrupulous care. Among many curiosities are the
bedstead, a beautiful piece of carved and inlaid work,
which belonged to the admiral of the Spanish Armada,
and a full-length portrait of "Queen Bess," a present from
her Majesty to Sir Francis in token of her admiration of
his character and as an acknowledgment of his great ser-
vices as a navigator and warrior. There are also, in good
condition, the green silk scarfs fringed with gold given
1—44

346 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

him by the Queen, and six red silk flags which used to
float on his vessel as it was proudly plowing the waves in
pursuit either of discover}^ or of victory. The walls of the
house are hung ever}'where with portraits of distinguished
personages, some of them by the older artists, and nearly
all procured at great cost. Much of the furniture is old,
and the plate, which is of silver and gold, is very valuable.
There is also some Sevres ware of rare pattern. The
grounds of this palatial residence are very extensive and
are kept in excellent order. The gardens and conservato-
ries are large ; and the orange, lemon, banana, and pine-
apple are grown in more or less profusion. The stables
are supplied with fine horses and carriages, and attached
to them is a riding-school for training purposes and for ex-
ercise in inclement weather. The country around affords
beautiful drives. After a certain hour in the morning
horses and carriages are constantly at the door for the ac-
commodation of visitors. Nutwell is situated on the river
Exe, and almost directly opposite the park and residence
of the Earl of Devon. It is, like some of the other posses-
sions left by the old navigator, an entailed estate.

Having passed most pleasantly the week for which we
had been invited, and during which we received not only
the unbounded hospitality of Sir Francis and Lady Drake,
but many marks of attention from, prominent citizens of
the neighborhood, we reluctantly took our departure for
Torquay. We stopped on the way at Exeter to lunch
with Canon Cook and his charming and accomplished
wife, both of whom we had met at Nutwell Court, and
who had kindly invited a number of their friends to meet
us. IVIrs. Cook is a cousin of Lady Drake, and a Douglas.
Canon Cooke is one of the Queen's chaplains, noted for his
piety and learning, and is one of the divines selected for
revising the Bible.

We visited Torquay solely on account of Mrs. Gross's
health, impaired by long suffering from severe neuralgia.

SAMUEL D. GJ^OSS, M.D. 347

We remained there nearly one month, during which she
greatly improved in flesh and strength, and enjoyed her
sea baths and excursions in the neighborhood. The walks
and drives in and around this town, perched as it is upon
high hills, on almost every side in view of the ocean, are
enchanting ; and we availed ourselves of every opportu-
nity to make the best of our time. We found here, as
ever}'where else, agreeable and hospitable people. Dr.
and ^Irs. Blake were especially kind to us ; and Mr.
Vivian spared no pains to point out to us every object of
interest in regard to the history- of the town. Mr. Vivian
is one of the founders of the Torquay Museum, containing
a valuable collection of organic remains found in and
about the town, especially in what is known as Kent's
Hole — a natural cave in which have been found the bones
of hyenas, tigers, bears, elephants, and other animals no
longer seen in Great Britain. Intermixed with these re-
mains have been discovered some fragments of human
bones. The passage has been explored to a distance of
six hundred yards ; and everything goes to prove that
human beings must have dwelt in its vicinity at least two
hundred thousand years ago.

The bathing at Torquay is not good ; the water is shal-
low, without surf, and cold even in August. The women
and men bathe separately, the former in the morning, and
the latter in the afternoon — in machines, as they are called,
or two-wheeled carriages. After they are undressed, the
bathers are pushed into the water, and hauled out when
they have completed their toilet. The best season for
visiting Torquay is the autumn ; at that time many invalids
resort thither, and not a few pass the winter there. The
air is delicious, the market excellent, and the charges
reasonable. Flowers, including the fuchsia, the geranium,
and the heliotrope, bloom in the open air until late in
the season.

During my stay at Torquay I had an invitation from the

348 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Lord Mayor of London to attend his annual dinner ; and
also one from the Mayor of Brighton to dine with the Brit-
ish Association for the Advancement of Science, at the
Pavilion, in that city, the former residence of George IV.
Owing to unavoidable circumstances I was obliged to de-
cline both of them. I was, however, able to go to Bir-
mingham to attend the meeting of the British Medical As-
sociation, which met in that city Tuesday, August 6th. I
went there as the guest of Mr. Thomas H. Bartlett, one of
the surgeons of the Birmingham Hospital, an eminent
practitioner, and a gentleman of agreeable manners. The
Association met the next morning, and was largely at-
tended, the president, Mr. Alfred Baker, in the chair. His
soirke^ which cost him, it was said, more than six hundred
pounds, was a great success. More than twelve hundred
persons were present, and all enjoyed themselves. At the
annual dinner nearly four hundred subscribers sat down.
As the senior American delegate, it devolved upon me to
tender thanks in behalf of my countrymen. This I did
in a brief speech, which was kindly received with three
rousing cheers. The address in medicine, by Dr. Wilks,
of Guy's Hospital, London, and that in surgery, by Mr.
Oliver Pemberton, of Birmingham, were able productions,
eliciting much commendation. During my stay in this
busy and hospitable city I dined with Mr. Baker, the
President of the Association ; with Mr. Berry, father-in-
law of my host ; and with Mr. Pemberton. Mr. Fernwick
Jordan, Professor of Surgery in Queen's College, invited
me to breakfast with him at the Queen's Hotel, with a
company of sixty gentlemen, many of them of profes-
sional prominence. He was kind enough to assign to me
the seat of honor at the table. The morning after this
I met at breakfast, at the same hotel, the Temperance
League, nearly one hundred members and invited guests
being present. The object of the meeting was to elicit the
views of the medical gentlemen in regard to the necessity

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 349

or uselessness of alcohol in the treatment of disease and
injury. There was much diversity of sentiment expressed
upon the subject. Some denounced its use in toto ; while
others, including myself, strongly advocated it, in certain
conditions of the system, as a most valuable, if not indis-
pensable, remedial agent. I must not forget to state that
soon after the opening of the meeting of the British Asso-
ciation I was elected an honorary member, and that a
similar compliment was bestowed upon Ricord and Demar-
quay, of Paris.-

I had long been anxious to visit Lichfield, the birth-
place of Samuel Johnson, the Goliath of English litera-
ture, and finding that it was only eighteen miles from
Birmingham, I determined to gratify my wishes. I was
particularly desirous to see his statue illustrative of events
of his early childhood. In my journey I was accompa-
nied by Mr. Wilcox, a friend of my host, who contributed
greatly to the enjoyment of the occasion.

Although a man of masculine mind, Johnson was natu-
rally superstitious, and this feeling never forsook him even
in his riper years. His statue at Lichfield stands in the
little market square, and was erected by the Rev. Chan-
cellor Law at his own expense, at a sum of four hundred
pounds. The figure represents a young man in the sitting
posture, the head resting on one hand, with a book in the
other, in a studious, contemplative mood. The counte-
nance is singularly sensuous, animal-like, the lips being
thick and roimd, the nose broad, and the chin rather long ;
indeed, there is an entire absence of refinement about
it. There are three basso-relievos. The first represents
Johnson as a boy riding upon the shoulders of two of his
companions with another behind pushing all three onward ;
the manner in which, it is said, he used to be carried to
school. The second represents him as an infant astride his
father's shoulders, listening to one of the Rev. Dr. Sache-
verell's sermons. The third, as a boy, shows him doing

350

AUTOBIOGRAIHY OF

penance in the marketplace for having told a story, his
mother standing behind, and the magistrate in front of
him. As a piece of art, the statne has nothing to boast
of; it is an awkward, clumsy performance. Those who
are familiar with his early life will recollect that Johnson,
when hardly two years old, was carried by his parents
to lyondon to be touched by Queen Anne for the king's
evil — a scrofulous disease ; and that, young as he was, he
distinctly recollected her majesty's pearl necklace, show-
ing what a wonderful memory he had even then.

Not far from this famous marketplace, in a print shop, is
Johnson's arm-chair, an awkward, unseemly piece of furni-
ture, and also his cane, a very long one, made of bamboo
wood, surmounted by an ivory head, quite loose from long
use. At the town museum I saw his beer-mug, salt-cellar,
snuff-box, and silver shoe-buckles — precious relics, pre-
served with religious care. Portraits of Johnson, Garrick,
and Darwin, the author of Zoonomia, and grandfather of
the evolutionist, adorn the interior of the building. Before
I left I bought two photographs, one representing Johnson's
statue, and the other a portrait of him by Reynolds.

Lichfield is situated upon a dead level, with a population
of seven thousand ; it has a magnificent cathedral, and had
at one time a famous grammar-school, in which Johnson,
Addison, and Garrick laid the foundation of their great-
ness. Mr. Wilcox and I greatly enjoyed our visit. We
returned early in the afternoon ; and on the following
morning, with a heart full of gratitude to my host and
hostess for their kind attentions to me, I retraced my
steps towards Torquay, mindful that I should never be
able to repay the good people of Birmingham for their hos-
pitality. This word hospitality naturally recalls the viands
and markets of the people from whom we were at all
times the recipients of unbounded kindness, and it may
therefore not be inappropriate for me here to state that
the shooting season of game in England begins, for

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 351

grouse, August 12th ; for black cock, August 22d ; for
partridge, September 2d ; for pheasant, October 2d ; and
for hare, October 30th. Venison is freely eaten as early
as August. The London fish-market is ver>^ superior ; the
salmon is a standard dish in its season, and white bait is a
bonne boiiche not to be despised. The beef, mutton, ham,
and poultn' are excellent ; but, excepting mutton, not any
better than our own, while our lamb is not surpassed in
tenderness and flavor. Much cold meat is eaten, especially
at breakfast and luncheon. Vegetables are not nearly so
numerous as with us. When I told an English lady, at a
dinner party in London, that in the garden of one of my
sons-in-law near Baltimore there were at that moment
twenty-six culinar\^ vegetables growing side by side, she
threw down her fork, raised her eyes like a duck in a
thunder-storm, and almost audibly said, ' ' That is not true !' '
English eating is not bad, but America is the paradise of
good living, although the cooking of the lower and even
of the middle classes is often wretchedly bad. Our mar-
kets are supplied with an abundance of delicious veni-
son, quail, pheasant, grouse, snipe, plover, woodcock, rail,
reed-bird, and duck, including the canvas-back and red-
head— neither of which, nor the terrapin, our English
brothers ever get, except as presents from their friends
on this side of the Atlantic.

On the 20th of August we took leave of our friends at
Torquay, and three days thereafter embarked in Liver-
pool on the Russia for home, all the better, and not a little
the wiser, for our three months' residence among people
from whom we had received great kindness, and whom,
in turn, we had learned to love and honor.

CHAPTER XIII.

JOHN TYNDALI. — CHARLES MACAI.ESTER — GEORGE PEAEODY — ^THE MEETING OF

THE AMERICAN PUBLIC HEALTH ASSOCIATION PAPER ON THE FACTORS OF

DISEASE AND DEATH AFTER INJURIES, PARTURITION, AND SURGICAL OPERA-
TIONS RESOLUTIONS FOR THE ESTABLISHMENT OF A NATIONAL BUREAU OF

HEALTH — JOHN ERIC ERICHSEN THE DEATH OF MY WIFE — THE MEETING

OF THE INTERNATIONAL MEDICAL CONGRESS — SIR WILLIAM FERGUSSON, BART.
— king's COLLEGE HOSPITAL.

On March 4th, 1873, I went to New York to attend
the public banquet given by citizens at Dehnonico's to
Professor John Tyndall, the scientist, who has been en-
gaged during the last few months in delivering a series
of lectures in the principal cities of the Union. The
number of guests was upwards of two hundred, embracing
many of the most distinguished members of the various
professions and prominent citizens of all classes from dif-
ferent sections of the country. The occasion was designed
to be a grand one, and the result did not disappoint ex-
pectation. Mr. William M. Evarts occupied the chair,
supported by Dr. John W. Draper, Rev. Henry Ward
Beecher, Parke Godwin, Frederick A. P. Barnard, of Co-
lumbia College, Dr. Andrew D. White, of Cornell Univer-
sity, and the Rev. Dr. H. W. Bellows. Speeches were
made by all these gentlemen except the last ; the best and
most felicitous of all was by Draper, who had for his sub-
^ ject the toast, " English and American Science." Evarts
made a few happy remarks ; and the speeches of Tyndall,
Beecher, and White were good, but not brilliant. Godwin
and Barnard were tedious, and every one was glad when
they took their seats. Their long-winded speeches re-
minded one forcibly of Presbyterian prayers of bygone
352

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 353

days. An after-dinner speech, to be at all tolerable, must
be short and pointed, and well seasoned with wit and
humor. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, the heated
atmosphere of the room, and the indifferent meim^ served
by indifferent waiters, the occasion was one not soon to be
forgotten. The compliment was well merited by Tyndall,
and was highly creditable to New York. Such an array
of great men as graced this banquet is rarely witnessed
anywhere.

Tyndall was bom at an obscure village, near Carlow,
Ireland, in August, 1820, received a limited education
under the direction of his father, and evinced at an early
age a marked tendency to the study of the physical and
chemical sciences, in a knowledge of which he perfected
himself chiefly in the most celebrated laboratories of Ger-
many, notably those at Marburg and Berlin. His prog-
ress was rapid. The articles which he contributed during
his foreign residence secured him admission into the Royal
Society of London ; and soon after his return he was hon-
ored with the professorship of Natural Philosophy in the
Royal Institution, in which, in 1866, he succeeded Fara-
day. In 1872 he came to this country on a lecture tour,
from which he realized more than fifteen thousand dol-
lars. This money he generously placed in the hands of
an American committee as a fund in aid of students who
devote themselves to original research. I heard Mr. Tyn-
dall lecture in this city, at Horticultural Hall, to a crowded
audience, not one of whom in fifty, I am sure, understood
what he said. The subject of the discourse was Heat. His
language would have suited a scientific audience, but was
far too abstruse for a promiscuous one. His manner was
pleasant enough, but not striking. He had none of the
Irish brogue or any of the English mouthing about him.
In private life his manners were genial and agreeable. I
met him for the first time in my own parlor at a meet-
ing of the Saturday Evening Club, of. which I was at the
1—45

354 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

time a member, having called a few days previously at his
lodgings without finding him.

The writings of Mr. Tyndall embrace a great variety
of topics, and are chiefly in the form of essays and con-
tributions to scientific journals. His pen has been par-
ticularly prolific in matters connected with light, heat,
electricity, and the formation of the glaciers of the Alps.
The Universities of Oxford and Cambridge have hon-
ored him with their degrees ; and it is not too much
to say that he is decidedly the foremost scientist in Great
Britain, if not in the world. He has been a great worker
in original research, and his mind is cast in the finest
philosophical mould. He is a firm believer in the evo-
lution theory ; and a few years ago he attracted univer-
sal attention by his proposition to submit the efficacy of
prayer in the cure of diseases to a scientific test. In per-
son Mr. Tyndall is tall and rather slim, with a large mouth
and nose, a good but not capacious head, heavy brows, and
a thoughtful expression of countenance.

December 9th, 1873. — Among the kind friends who wel-
comed me and my family on our arrival in Philadelphia
in 1856, there was no one who received us more cordially
than Charles Macalester, whose death occurred this morning
at his residence on Spruce Street, at the age of seventy-five
years. His health had been failing for some time ; his
gait had become feeble, much of his accustomed vivacity
had vanished, and it was evident to his many friends that
his life was gradually ebbing away. The immediate cause
of his demise was pneumonia, the bane of old age, which
yearly slays so many thousands. Exposure to cold, a severe
chill, and in a few days, often not more than three or four,
the work is done, and death is the victor !

Charles Macalester was no common man. Descended
from a good Scotch stock, he was endowed with a strong
mind, highly improved by early education and a life-long
contact with many of the best and most distinguished men

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 355

of the countty. Friction of mind with mind strengthens
and improves ever}- one, and this was strikingly true of
my friend. He saw much of the world, and greatly profited
by his intercourse with it. His great business capacity
was recognized by his appointment, in early manhood,
as a director of the United States Bank, a government
office ; and he subsequently served the public in various
other capacities of trust and honor. He was intrusted with
the management of many large estates, performed much
gratuitous work, was liberal in the bestowal of his char-
ity, and was often consulted by persons in distress on ac-
count of his wide experience, superior judgment, and cor-
rect business habits. Many a widow and orphan had cause
to bless his bounty and his unselfish acts. His death
brought great sorrow upon this class of our citizens.
Reared in the Presbyterian Church, he was long an elder
in it, as well as a trustee of the General Assembly. ' ' In
all these relations to the church," says one who knew him
intimately, "he was faithful, wise, and sagacious, giving
his time and his means freely to the furtherance of the
various schemes of benevolence." Among his charities
was one of fifty thousand dollars for the endowment of a
college at St. Paul, Minnesota, which now bears his hon-
ored name.

Mr. Macalester was famous for his hospitality. No man
in his day in Philadelphia entertained more frequently
or more elegantly than he. His house on Spruce Street,
and his residence at Torresdale on the bank of the Dela-
ware, twelve miles above the city, were long the resort of
refined and cultivated persons of both sexes, native and
foreign. Distinguished strangers were always sure of a
cordial welcome. His viands and his wines were of the
best quality, and ser\'ed in the best style. His daughter.
Miss Lily, afterwards Madame Berghmans, and at a later
period Mrs. Laughton, always presided at these entertain-
ments, and by her grace of manner, ready wit, and power

356 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of repartee, added greatly to the enjoyment of tlie guests.
The host himself could always be depended on for well-
timed and well-told anecdotes. Broad and liberal in his
views, he invited to his table all classes of people — the
Presbyterian, the Quaker, the Episcopalian, the Baptist,
the Unitarian, and the Catholic ; the statesman and the
politician, the actor and the actress, the cabinet minister
and the soldier, the physician and the apothecary, the law-
yer and the scrivener ; the professor and the scientist, the
litterateur, and the journalist. The party seldom exceeded
a dozen or fourteen ; and the honored host never sat down
when, in consequence of an unavoidable absence, there
was an uneven number of guests. On such an occa-
sion death was always warded ofif by pressing some one —
generally a member of the family or a near neighbor — into
the service, or by retiring some one of the company. His
belief in this old Scotch prejudice had evidently been
inherited ; or, at all events, had taken deep root in his
mental organization. The people of note whom I most
frequently met at Mr. Macalester's dinner parties were
Edward Everett, George Peabody, Mr. and Mrs. Henry D.
Gilpin, Rev. Dr. Shields, Rev. Dr. Beadle, General Van
Vliet, Daniel Dougherty, John W. Forney, George W.
Childs, and Dr. Emerson. The last was an habituk^ a dry
old stick of a man, not without intelligence, but the quint-
essence of stinginess. He ate many rich meals at the
houses of his friends, but never gave one in return. All
that any of them ever received from him was half a dozen
peaches sent from his farm in Delaware.

Everybody knew Mr. Everett. What a sweet and gentle
disposition he had, how gifted he was, and what a genial
influence he shed upon all with whom he came in contact
are too well known to require comment. But it was very
different with Mr. Peabody. He too could smile, but he
was a dull, heavy, stalwart man, hard to arouse, and when
aroused uninteresting. Of the anecdotes told me of this

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 357

money king by Mr. Macalester none astonished me more
than an incident which occurred during his last visit to
this country. He had reached New York early in July
of that year, and he immediately telegraphed for his
friend to meet him. ]\Ir. Macalester found him suffering
greatly from the intense heat. Upon inquiry he ascer-
tained that the great banker had not doffed his winter
flannel. "Why don't you send out and get thin under-
wear?" was asked. Mr. Peabody replied, "I shall be at
Danver, Massachusetts, in a few days, where plenty of thin
underwear awaits me." It is difficult to appreciate such
economy. Here was a man worth many millions, all de-
voted to charitable objects, and yet he stinted himself in
his personal comfort for the sake of a few dollars. It was
said of Johns Hopkins, the founder of the great university
of that name, that he was too mean to wear decent clothes.
Is not ostentation at the bottom of such conduct ? What
else can it be? Mr. Macalester was long intimate with
Mr. Peabody, and was one of the trustees of the Peabody
Fund for the advancement of education in the Southern
States. At the time of his death he was President of the
St. Andrew's Society of Philadelphia, and presided with
his usual grace and dignity at its annual meeting only a
few days before the sad event. He was buried on a Satur-
day, and the same evening the Saturday Club, of which
he was a member, held its meeting at the house of a
prominent citizen. I thought the affair one of great heart-
lessness, and the following week sent in my resignation.

Van Vliet had a fine head, with snow-white hair, and a
face as red as the wattles of a turkey-cock. To wonderful
gastronomic powers he added great bonhomie and a large
fund of anecdotes picked up in his intercourse with the
world and in his travels as a military officer. Shields and
Beadle were model clergymen, zealous Presbyterians, elo-
quent preachers, and refined Christian gentlemen. The
former was called early in life to a chair in the Theological

358 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Seminary at Princeton. The latter died suddenly some
years ago from the effects of overwork, and was deeply
regretted by the church and by all who knew him.

Durinof the meeting^ of the American Public Health
Association, which embraces several thousand of the
most respectable and influential citizens of the country —
men representing all professions and all interests — held
in Philadelphia, November, 1874, I read, by request, a
paper on The Factors of Disease and Death after Inju-
ries, Parturition, and Surgical Operations. The audience,
although not large, was select, and was presided over by
Mr. Morton McMichael, who kindly introduced me. The
address was well received, except by a few physicians who
thought it bore rather severely, if not unjustly, upon the
usefulness of hospitals considered as civic institutions.
It was afterwards published in the Transactions of the
Association. On the last day of the meeting I called
attention to the necessity of a National Sanitary Bureau,
to be located at Washington, and offered the following
resolutions to bring the subject fairly and forcibly before
the notice of Congress and of the American people :

" WJiereas^ It is the solemn duty of every civilized gov-
ernment to provide means for the safety and happiness and
preservation of the health and lives of its subjects :

'''' And whereas^ A large number of the diseases incident
to the human race are induced by causes inherent in our
modes of living, and by a want of knowledge of the laws
of hygiene : Therefore be it

'"''Resolved^ That a committee, consisting of a member
of this Association from each State and Territory of the
Union, of which the president of this Association shall be
chairman, be appointed to petition Congress at its next
session to institute a Bureau of Health, to be located at
Washington City, with a branch at the seat of each State
and Territorial government.

''''Resolved^ That we hereby invite the earnest coopera-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 359

tion of the auxiliary brandies of tlie Association, and of
all kindred bodies in the Union, in carrying out the objects
of the foregoing resolution. ' '

Dr. Josiah Curtis, of Washington, stated that such a
bureau for collecting health statistics was in operation in
Europe and had effected much good. He favored the reso-
lution.

Dr. J. J. Woodward asked me whether this resolution
proposed the formation of a body that would collect the
statistics of the whole country, or whether it would be
such a body as had been previously appointed and never
accomplished the desired result. He was not opposed to
the resolution, but merely wanted efficient action in the
matter.

I then addressed the meeting as follows :

" I rise, Mr. President, to ask you a question which, in
listening to the discussions here a few mornings ago, has
instinctively come into my mind, and you will, I am sure,
pardon me if I take the liberty of answering it myself.
The question is simply this : What constitutes the highest
type of civilization in a nation ? You will agree with me
at once that it is the attention which it bestows upon the
preservation of the health and lives of its subjects — the
guardianship which it exercises over the welfare of its
people.

"As American citizens we boast, and very justly too, of
our progress in commerce, agriculture, manufactures, lit-
erature, the arts and sciences, and of the general diffusion
of knowledge among all classes of society ; but what have
we done as a nation for our sanitary condition, for those
things which so vitally concern the public health, the
dearest interest of every family in the land? The gov-
ernment has done nothing ; it has not even recognized the
necessity of a great Bureau of Health, so essential in a
sanitary point of view. Our local boards of health, as
they are denominated, are mere shadows, the creatures for

360 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the most part of municipal authorities, who farm out our
health and our lives to the highest bidder at so much a
head. Surely the first, the greatest duty of a nation is to
protect the lives of its citizens, by teaching them how to
live, how to guard against disease, and how to improve the
race. The sanitary condition of a community is intimately
associated with its moral and religious welfare. People
cannot be good or happy if they are not healthy. ' Clean-
liness is indeed next to godliness,' says John Wesley.
Millions of our fellow -creatures die every year from pre-
ventable diseases. The treatment of the more common
affections, or such as are of daily occurrence, has attained
a high degree of perfection. In surgery many of the oper-
ative procedures are as perfect as it is, apparently, possible
to render them. But in regard to what are known as the
zymotic diseases, such as measles, scarlatina, whooping-
cough, cholera, smallpox, yellow fever, and typhoid fever,
which annually destroy many millions of lives, our know-
ledge is still exceedingly defective ; and it is to this class
of affections, especially to the causes which underlie their
origin and propagation, that the attention of this Associa-
tion should be mainly directed, and through it the atten-
tion of our General and State governments. Most of these
diseases are, under proper sanitar>^ regulations, in a great
measure, if not wholly, preventable. Sensible men no
longer ascribe the frightful outbreak of those epidemic
disorders which occasionally ravage whole nations, to the
wrath of an offended Deity ; they know better ; they know
that they are due, for the most part, to man's ignorance or
to man's criminal neglect. At this very moment, at Dar-
wen, a manufacturing town in Lancaster County, England,
upwards of fifteen hundred persons, at least one-sixteenth
of the entire population, are groaning under an epidemic
of typhoid fever, due, beyond all question, to bad sewerage
and other preventable causes of sickness.

" Have we not a right to ask for government assistance

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 361

in this matter ? We have a minister of war and a minister
of the navy to keep the country in a condition ready to
meet any foreign bloodhounds that may threaten our liber-
ties and deprive us of our territor>\ Why then should
there not be a minister of health to see to our sanitary
affairs, to enable us the better to cope with the enemies
that visit us in our own dwellings and in those of our
neighbors? Have we not a right, as dutiful citizens, to
claim this much from the government? If a man robs
me of my goods, the law takes cognizance of the offence,
and punishes the thief with fine and imprisonment ; but
when my neighbor poisons my well, my food, or the
air I breathe, I have no recourse, unless the case is
so plain that it cannot be overlooked. Every man de-
sires to live as long as possible, and not only so, but as
happily as possible ; but, owing to our ignorance, millions
upon millions annually perish prematurely, simply because
they do not know how to live, and how to guard against
the occurrence of disease. So long as we are without
well-organized government aid, so long will our people
from the lowest to the highest pay the penalty of pre-
ventable disease.

' ' I have brought forward these resolutions in the hope
that they will meet the prompt and undivided approval of
this meeting. Let the influential men and women of the
country unite with us in this grand effort ; and my word
for it, the time is not distant when we shall have a Health
Department at the capital of the nation, with competent
and well-qualified subordinates."

After further remarks by Dr. Curtis, the resolutions
on motion of Professor Hartshorne were referred to the
Special Committee on Legislation.

Upon this movement the New York World of No-
vember 15th, 1874, passed some severe strictures in a
lengthy editorial. It deprecated the establishment of such
a bureau on the ground that it would soon fall into the
I --46

362 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

hands of certain rings, who would make it the means of
extorting money from the government instead of pro-
moting the public interest. The special committee to
whom the resolutions were referred have never taken any
action upon the subject, and thus the matter remains
where it was in its original form. It is the merest soph-
istry to argue against the value of such a department ; the
fact that it is liable to abuse, and that it might thus fall
short of its aims and ends, is surely no valid objection to its
establishment. If there is any one public bureau in this
country that is not open to abuse, or in which the most
shameful abuses are not constantly carried on, the people
have not yet discovered it. As we become more civilized
and enlightened the necessity for such a department will
become more and more apparent, and I have therefore no
doubt of its ultimate accomplishment. The American Pub-
lic Health Association is a live body, which has already
done vast good, and which is daily exciting fresh interest
in the cause of sanitary reform.

On Sunday, October 4th, 1874, Mr. and Mrs. Erichsen,
who were very kind to us during our visit to London in
1872, met us at dinner. Among the guests were Professor
and Mrs. Joseph Pancoast, Professors Rogers and Da Costa,
Dr. Richard J. Levis, Dr. and Mrs. F. F. IMaury, Miss
Emily Schaumburg, Mr. and Mrs. Orville Horwitz, and
my two sons. The memi was an elaborate one, and every-
thing passed off pleasantly. Three hours, spiced with
agreeable conversation and followed by music, were spent
at table. My wife talked much and well ; and the Erich-
sens seemed to enjoy themselves.

A few evenings after this a public dinner was given at
Augustine's, in the best style of that famous caterer, to
Mr. Erichsen by the physicians of Philadelphia, about
thirty participating. It was my privilege to preside on
the occasion, and to introduce the guest of the evening,
whom of course everybody present knew, if not person-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 363

ally, at all events by liis writings, which have given him
a world-wide reputation. The Art and Science of Sur-
gery has passed through many editions both in England
and in this country ; and during our late war it was
placed on the supply-table to the number of more than
five thousand copies. Mr. Erichsen was in his happiest
mood ; and his speech, conceived in the best taste, was
received with rapturous applause. Similar compliments
were paid to him in Baltimore and New York, if not
also in Boston ; and the great surgeon left our shores well
pleased with his visit.

On Saturday, December 12th, at my college clinic, I
operated upon a woman for strangulated femoral hernia,
cut a boy for stone in the bladder, amputated a leg for a
girl, and operated upon a child for harelip. In addition
to this work, I prescribed for many clinical patients and
visited a number of persons in different parts of the
city, three of them in consultation. In the evening I
attended a social gathering, returning at eleven o'clock.
This assuredly was a large day's work for a man near the
latter half of his seventieth year ; and yet I bore it all
wonderfully well, being not so much fatigued as I often
was in my younger days with less labor upon my hands.

The death of a good and virtuous wife is the greatest
calamity that can befall a human being, a blow well calcu-
lated to stagger the stoutest heart, and to render one's
future life a complete blank. Death had been absent from
my family for nearly a third of a century, when, on Sun-
day evening the 27th of Februar}-, 1876, I was called upon
along with my children to mourn the departure of the
noble woman who for nearly forty-eight years had been
the sharer of my joys and sorrows, and between whom
and myself there had always existed the wannest and
purest attachment. She expired at half past eight o'clock
in the evening in my arms, and in the presence of her son

364 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Haller, who liad watched all day at her bedside, in assid-
uous and tender devotion to her wants. Samuel was
absent at the time, but arrived soon after the sad event.
My two daughters reached the house shortly after ten
o'clock — a despatch having been sent to Louisa to come
on without delay. Fortunately she was accompanied by
Maria, who had gone home only six days previously, after
having been with her dear mother for the last two months
of her life, and was persuaded that she must be danger-
ously ill. Although my wife had suffered more than
usual during the last week of her life, I felt no special
anxiety respecting her condition until about eighteen
hours before her death, when, for the first time, symptoms
of a grave character set in. The neuralgic pains under
which she had so long labored had been uncommonly se-
vere the previous evening ; but under the influence of her
accustomed dose of chloral and of the hypodermic injection
of a grain of morphia she soon fell into a comparatively
comfortable sleep until about two o'clock in the morning,
when she awoke and complained of severe pain in the right
shoulder and epigastric region. Her mind began to wander,
and her delirium soon assumed a most distressing form,
manifesting itself in constant moans and incoherent ex-
pressions. At half past four o'clock I summoned my
sons to her bedside ; for I was now grievously alarmed,
and afraid she might die at any moment. Another hypo-
dermic injection of morphia was administered, which, with
brandy and milk, had the effect of putting her into a tran-
quil sleep, which lasted until after eight o'clock in the
morning. She then awoke, and, with the exception of
occasional snatches of sleep, continued more or less deliri-
ous and incoherent until she expired. Several hours be-
fore her death she suffered, at intervals, from nausea and
also from vomiting. Her chief complaint during the day
and evening was pain referred to the right shoulder and to
the pit of the stomach. She died without a groan, and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 365

evidently, as far as could be determined, without con-
sciousness that her end was at hand. She had been told
early in the day that Louisa had been telegraphed for, and
in her delirium she several times spoke of her by name.
I was with her all day, except from one to two o'clock,
when I was compelled to visit a patient in consultation.
Six da\-s before her death she rode with me to the upper
part of the city ; and, although she was a good deal
fatisrued, she seemed to be none the worse for the effort.
For the next few days, however, her neuralgia assumed an
unusual degree of severity. On Friday evening she was
so much better that she spent several hours in light read-
ing, and was deeply interested in the bouquets sent to
Samuel and Haller by some of their lady friends ; it was
the night of a leap-year ball which they both attended,
returning at a late hour.

My dear wife had suffered more or less severely from
neuralgia and dyspepsia for upwards of ten years. I had
visited Europe twice on account of her health — first in
1868, and again in 1872 — and on both occasions she was
much benefited. During her last visit she was very ill at
Oxford, and again for a short time at London. However,
she was able on the 13th of June to attend the Exercises in
the University, and was greatly pleased at seeing me re-
ceive the degree of Doctor of Civil Laws. On our return
voyage she suffered much from seasickness, and was but
once on deck.

These neuralgic pains, together with frequent attacks
of dyspepsia, gradually undermined her health, and at
length wore out the machinery of life. In reflecting
upon her case, the surprise is not that she died, but
that she held out so long. At her death she was nearly
sixty -eight years and a half old. I attribute her vital
tenacity to the wonderful elasticity of her system, and to
her determination to live despite the sufferings which her
ailments inflicted upon her. Something, no doubt, was

366 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

also due to my care of her ; to the incessant vigilance with
which I regarded her case ; and to the promptness with
which I met the indications of her symptoms. If she had
not been the wife of a physician, her life, I am satisfied,
would have been much shorter and her suffering much
more severe.

I made the acquaintance of my wife in 1827, i^ ^^^
month of April, while I was a student at the Jefferson Med-
ical College, in the third year of my pupilage. If we did
not fall in love at first sight, we soon became warmly at-
tached to each other. Our attachment culminated in a
few months in an engagement which was consummated
the following year, she being at the time in her twenty-
first year and I in my twenty-third. We were both poor,
and our affection was therefore of a pure and unselfish
character. My wife was pretty, highly cultured for one of
her age, and a fine musician, both as a vocalist and pianist,
with charming manners. By the father's side her descent
was German ; by the mother's, English. She was born at
Kensington, near London, August 22d, 1807, during a visit
of her parents to England. Both parents died when she
was quite young. Her mother, whose maiden name was
Davis, and who was educated at the celebrated female
seminary at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, was an elegant, re-
fined, and highly accomplished woman, from whom her
daughter evidently inherited her musical talents, after-
wards transmitted to her own children and grandchildren.
Her father's name was Frederick Weissell, a Prussian
gentleman. As the time for our marriage drew nigh, my
wife's friends tried hard to break off the engagement, on
the ground that I was in ill health, and that she would
therefore, ere long, again become a widow. Their efforts,
however, were unavailing. The truth is that my health
was not materially impaired ; I was only a little dyspeptic,
and somewhat overworked. The fact that I have lived to
the age of nearly seventy-one years is a sufficient proof, at

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 367

all events, that I had a good constitution, and that I had
no organic disease at the time referred to. I have, in the
main, all my life enjoyed excellent health, which is so
much the more surprising, considering the great amount
of labor I have performed as a practitioner, as a writer, as
a teacher, and as an operating surgeon.

In reflecting upon my married life I have great reason
for thankfulness. It was an eminently happy life. Few
men have ever been so blessed in their matrimonial rela-
tions. The attachment formed in our young days grad-
ually increased in intensity as we advanced in years, and
burned with a steady flame until my wife expired in my
arms, mingling thus her last breath with mine. I know of
nothing more touching than the sight of a young and loving
wife encouraging her husband in his efforts to earn a live-
lihood for his family, and watching his rising fame. It
reminds one of the nurser}^man watering his plants and
watching the unfolding of their petals. Such was my
wife. She was contented with her lot, and sympathized
in all my movements, labors, and aspirations. I never
knew her to be guilty of one selfish act. Her ambition
always was to accommodate herself to circumstances. She
ever exercised a laudable economy. Unlike many of the
women around her, she never lived above her means or
her husband's income. She took great pride in making
her house attractive to her husband, her children, and her
friends. Her musical talents, her remarkable intelligence,
her fine conversational powers, and her genial disposition
drew around her a coterie of friends, always as welcome as
they were improved and gratified, and made her one of
the most attractive women in the social circle whom I
have ever known. She was especially fond of young
persons ; she delighted to converse with them, and to
give them good advice. Not a few of her more intimate
young friends were indebted to her for spiritual counsel
and guidance. Into the hands of a number of them she

368 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

placed Nelson on Infidelity, Mcllvaine on the Evidences
of Christianity, and similar works, with a view of con-
finning their faith in the truth and beauty of the Chris-
tian relio;ion. Althouo-h she was fond of fashionable so-
ciety, she never allowed herself to be influenced by its
exactions, or to be drawn aside by its allurements. She
had a winsome smile and a cordial shake of the hand
for every one who approached her. Her laugh was infec-
tious. During her residence in Louisville, it was a com-
mon thing for her and for her two neighbors, Mrs. Graves
and Mrs. Preston, on a pleasant summer evening, to walk
up and down on the pavement, in front of their respec-
tive houses, talking innocent gossip, interspersed with
laughter that made the welkin ring. Her reading was
varied and extensive ; and she had the happy faculty,
possessed by few persons, of getting at the marrow of a
book with marvellous rapidity. During the latter years
of her life her reading was confined, in great measure, to
religious books, especially the Bible and Barnes's Notes on
the New Testament, and to novels, of which one or more
were almost constantly upon her table. She also read a
good many newspapers, and she was possessed of an exten-
sive knowledge of the events of the day. Her memory was
excellent, and she could converse, generally with ease and
fluency, upon almost any literary topic. She was particu-
larly well versed in mythological lore, of which she had in
early life been a zealous student. One of the great sources
of her happiness, during the last three years of her life,
when unable to read on account of a weakness of her eyes,
was to amuse herself in the evening with the game of
solitaire^ taught her by her only sister, Mrs, Casey. Not
less than an hour — sometimes even twice that time — was
passed in this way for evenings together, especially during
the long winter nights.

With my wife religion was not a mere sentiment ; it
was a positive reality. Reared in the Episcopal Church,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 369

the church of her forefathers by the mother's side, she
was a scrupulous observ^er of its rites and ceremonies, and
a devout believer in the truth of its doctrines. A Sunday
missed from church was to her a Sunday lost. She ac-
cepted, without reservation, the teachings both of the Old
and the New Testament as emanations from the Deity —
as the writings of men directly inspired by God. Upon
this subject she was intolerant of the slightest scepticism.
Her familiarity with the Bible enabled her readily to quote
almost any of its more important passages. She was a
frequent reader of Bishop Mcllvaine's Evidences of Chris-
tianity. The author, for whom she had a warm regard,
was a personal friend, and a copy of the work was pre-
sented to her by him during his sojourn in our house at
Louisville nearly twenty-five years ago. In the religion of
the Episcopal Church she strove to educate her children.

I cannot finish this brief sketch of the character of my
wife without bearing witness to her kind and charitable
disposition, to her refined tastes, and to the delicacy of her
language in her ordinary intercourse with her family and
her domestics, or with what properly constitutes one's
household. No unrefined expression ever passed her lips ;
nor would she tolerate such an expression in others. In
a word, her walk and conversation were, under all cir-
cumstances, pure and delicate. An oath uttered in her
presence was almost an unpardonable oflfence, causing a
shudder to run through her frame. She had a great
love for flowers — a love which she instilled into her
children, and from which she herself derived great hap-
piness. She was a good judge of a picture, and an admirer
of art in its higher forms. She was a frequent visitor of
our beautiful park, and accompanied me in many a ride,
especially in summer and autumn, through the neigh-
borhood of the city abounding in fine rural scenery and
pleasant drives. It was only about eight months before
her death that I bought for her special use in New York,
1—47

370

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

a cabriolet with low steps, that she might have no dif-
ficulty in getting into and out of it. It was a source of
great enjoyment to her.

It only remains that I should speak of her as a wife and
as a mother. In both of these relations her conduct was
eminently exemplary. As a wife, she was warm-hearted,
tender, loving, confiding, sympathizing, ever ready to per-
form kind offices, to anticipate wants, and to take an active
interest in everything pertaining to my welfare. I know
she loved me with an intense ardor. I need not add how
fondly I was attached to her, and how constantly I strove
to augment her happiness. Her very sufferings endeared
her to me. Is this at all surprising when it is remembered
that our married life extended over a period of nearly forty-
eight years ? I found in her a wise counsellor ; and I sel-
dom wrote an address, introductory discourse, or valedictory
without submitting the manuscript to her inspection and
adopting her criticisms. She had excellent taste and
fine judgment. Early in our married life she copied a
number of papers for me, principally notes on scientific
treatises ; but she never wrote any of my discourses or
published works. She was an admirable letter-writer,
composing rapidly and fluently, always clothing her senti-
ments in apposite and correct language.

As a mother she was in every respect quite as exem-
plary ; warm-hearted, generous, indulgent, and yet exact-
ing, with an eye constantly alive to the moral and religious
training of her children. I do not think there ever was a
more loving, fond, or doting mother; and the best proof
of the truth of this opinion is that her children literally
idolized her. Always unselfish, it seemed as if all her
efforts were bent upon making them and their father
happy. Her grandchildren — seven in number — were most
fondly attached to her ; and in her departure they have lost
one of their dearest, tenderest, and most devoted friends.

This good woman — the crown and jewel of a wife — never

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 371

had an enemy. If she ever gave oflfence, it grew out of
unavoidable circumstances. She harbored no enmity or
ill feeling. Her generous nature did not admit of such an
indulgence. She was emphatically the friend of human
kind, and an avowed enemy to harshness and cruelty,
whether inflicted upon man or the lower animals. She
considered life a great boon, and was ever in favor of its
largest enjoyment. If she did not engage in works which
brought her before the public, it was simply because her
delicate and sensitive nature shrank from the public gaze.
Her private charities, although not numerous, were credit-
able to her heart and in accord with her means.

My wife, as already stated, died on the 27th of February,
and was buried on Wednesday, March ist, the funeral being
strictly private. The pall-bearers were Dr. P. J. Horwitz,
U. S. N. , brother of my two sons-in-law, and formerly Chief
of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery at Washington;
Mr. Henry C. Carey ; Professor Joseph Pancoast ; and the
Rev. Mr. Edmund C. Bittinger, Chaplain U. S. Navy — all
intimate and valued friends. The services were performed
at the house by the Rev. C. George Currie. My two sons,
two daughters with their husbands, my wife's sister, Mrs.
Casey, Mrs. Pancoast, and Mrs. F. F. Maury, with our ser-
vants, and Rev. Dr. William Rudder, of St. Stephen's
Church, were the only persons present. The exercises
were brief, but solemn and impressive ; the day was cold
and cloudy. The body was tenderly laid away in the fam-
ily vault at Woodlands Cemeten% West Philadelphia, in a
lot since inclosed with curbing and embellished with roses,
geraniums, and heliotropes. The lot is beautifully situ-
ated, and is all that could be desired as the resting-place of
one so much loved and so much missed. She herself had
often visited the cemetery, and expressed her satisfaction
at the beauty of its arrangements, its interesting site on
the west bank of the Schuylkill, the abundance of its
floral decorations, and the songs of its numerous birds

372 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

perched upon lofty trees, rendering the air musical with
their melody. Here I expect ere long to repose myself by
the side of the woman whom I so much loved, and whose
loss has left me in a state of utter desolation at a period of
life when I am so greatly in need of that domestic comfort
which she knew so well how to administer, and of which I
was for nearly half a century the happy recipient. Thus
we all, sooner or later, come to realize the words of the
poet :

"The night hath a thousand eyes,

The day but one;
But the light of the whole world dies

At set of sun.

"And the mind has a thousand eyes,
The heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done."

My dear wife's tomb bears the following simple in-
scription :

"A Noble, Christian Woman."

Eight children were born to us — three daughters and
five sons. Joseph, Frederick, and Hunter died in in-
fancy. Julia, the eldest, was called away in her ninth
year. She was a child of great intelligence, sprightliness,
and promise, and her death caused her mother and myself
much grief and suffering. Even after the lapse of nearly
forty years, when I look back to that event, the first shadow
that overcast our domestic life, I never fail to heave a deep
sigh. To me this affliction came with double force. A
great sufferer in her infancy, I nursed her every night to
afford her mother rest, exhausted as she generally was by
the labors of the day ; and during full nine months the
dear child lay in my arms during those weary hours. The
immediate cause of her death was arachnitis, brought on,
apparently, by a severe cold as she was returning from

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 373

school one day in February. A singular discovery was
made in the examination of the body after death. In the
upper lobe of the left lung, near its middle, lay coiled up a
piece of worsted about an inch in length, which she must
have accidentally inhaled in a fit of coughing some weeks,
perhaps months, before her last illness, as was proved by
the fact that the tissues in immediate contact with it were
slightly ulcerated and indurated. Had Julia been spared
to us, there is ever}' reason to believe that she would have
made a brilliant, if not a great woman. Her love for read-
ing and stud^'ing was remarkable ; and she had a quick,
active, observing mind, apt in imbibing knowledge. She
never seemed to be so happy as when she was sitting by
herself in a corner of a room with a copy of the Arabian
Nights on her knees. In this manner she would often
spend hours together, apparently forgetful of self and
everything around her. Her fondness and capacity for
music were unusual, and were manifestly the result of
hereditary transmission on the mother's side. Long be-
fore she was three years old she sang with much expres-
sion a number of songs and played several pieces on the
piano. In form she was ver}' graceful ; in temper, sweet
and loving ; in disposition, social ; in her attachments,
warm and steadfast. Without being what may be called a
beauty, her features were attractive, and denotive of great
intelligence ; her eyes and hair were black. Of the three
boys who died in infancy, all that I can say is that they
were handsome children. What would have become of
them had they lived is a mystery. Like matrimony,
the life of a child is a lottery, in which there are many
blanks and few prizes. Life at best is a struggle ;
and there are few youths who reach the goal of their
ambition.

Of my surviving children it does not become me to
speak. Suffice it to say that my two sons are actively en-
gaged in the practice of their respective professions, medi-

374

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

cine and law ; and that my daughters, two aflfectionate and
accomplished women, are happily married to cultured and
refined gentlemen, distinguished members of the Baltimore
bar.

I stated elsewhere that I have seldom lost a lecture from
illness. Last December, however, in consequence of a
severe cold, seriously ajBfecting my larynx, I was pre-
vented for one entire month from meeting my class. For
nearly half of this time I was barely able to speak in a
whisper. My strength, too, had given way ; and, although
I did not at any time consider myself decidedly ill, some
of my friends, and especially my dear wife, felt uneasy
about the result. When I resumed my lectures on the
first day of the year 1876 I was still very feeble ; and
when my domestic affliction took place, on the 27th of
February, my strength was still somewhat impaired. The
terrible blow again exhausted me ; and it was not until
after several weeks of sea-bathing at Cape May, an exer-
cise of which I have always been very fond, that my health
was perfectly restored.

In the winter of 1874 the Philadelphia County Medical
Society appointed a committee, consisting of thirteen of its
members, with myself as its chairman, to devise plans for
the organization of an International Medical Congress to
convene in this city in 1876. After a number of meetings
the different medical societies of Philadelphia were em-
braced in the scheme ; and a joint committee of delegates
was appointed, known as the Centennial Medical Com-
mission, with power to perfect all the arrangements neces-
sary for holding the Congress and pushing it to a successful
issue. The labors of this committee were immense, in-
volving numerous meetings, a heavy and extensive corre-
spondence, an uncommon degree of executive ability, and
a considerable outlay of money. As the Commission was
found to be too bulky, its work was finally confided to a

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 375

Committee of Arrangements, who, in the end, did it ample
justice, as was shown by the success of the Congress.

The Congress convened in this city at twelve o'clock
noon, September 4th, 1876, in the Chapel of the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania, kindly placed at its disposal by the
Trustees and Faculty of that institution. It was opened
with prayer by the Right Rev. William Bacon Stevens,
Bishop of Pennsylvania, after having been called to order
by myself as Chairman of the Centennial Medical Commis-
sion. The attendance of delegates and citizens was large,
the room being well filled. A committee, consisting of
thirteen — nine Americans and four foreigners — had been
appointed two days previously by the Committee of Ar-
rangements to nominate officers for the Congress. After
my address of welcome they reported partially the re-
sults of their deliberations. I was selected to be the presi-
dent without one dissenting voice — an unsolicited compli-
ment. The names of thirteen vice-presidents were then
announced, at the head of whom was Dr. Paul F. Eve,
of Nashville, Tennessee. The list embraced a Japanese
professor. Dr. H. INIiyake, of the Medical College of Tokio,
and a number of distinguished American and foreign dele-
gates. Dr. Barnes, Surgeon-General U. S. A., and Dr. H.
V. P. Beale, Chief of the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery,
Washington City, were elected Honorary Vice-Presidents,
but neither of them attended the meeting. Dr. I. Minis
Hays, son of the veteran editor of the American Journal
of the Medical Sciences, was appointed Secretary. The
Assistant Secretaries were Dr. W. B. Atkinson, Dr. Rich-
ard J. Dunglison, Dr. Richard A. Cleemann, Dr. William
W. Keen, and Dr. R. M. Bertolet. The session lasted an
entire week. The addresses delivered on the progress of
American Medicine during the last one hundred years were
for the most part highly interesting ; a great deal of work
was done in the Sections, nine in number ; the utmost har-
mony prevailed throughout : and the Congress was a success

376 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

in all its details. Four hundred and forty-two delegates, of
whom seventy-one were foreigners, were in attendance, re-
presenting the British Dominion, Australia, England, Ire-
land and Scotland, Belgium, Germany, Austria, Russia,
Sweden, Norway, Finland, Greece, Cuba, Mexico, Japan,
and China. To preside over such a body of men, many of
them of high reputation as scientists, teachers, and writers,
I esteemed a great honor, and so expressed myself on taking
the chair, adding that I considered it not so much a tribute
to myself personally as to the physicians of Philadelphia,
through whose agency the meeting had taken place.
The public dinner of the Congress took place at St
George's Hall on Friday evening, September 8th. I oc-
cupied the chair, with Professor Lister, of Edinburgh, on
my right, and Governor Hartranft on my left. About one
hundred and sixty gentlemen sat down. I must not forget
to add that my address of welcome was well received and
favorably noticed by the press — medical and lay. The
Congress, the Transactions of which are to be published,
under the editorship of Dr. John Ashhurst, Jr. , at an early
day, was undoubtedly the best meeting of a medical char-
acter ever held on this continent, whether we consider the
talents, scientific attainments, and position of its members,
or the amount and character of its work.

The lotli of February, 1877, witnessed the death of one
of the greatest surgeons of the age. Sir William Fergusson,
at his residence in London at the age of sixty-nine years.
The newspapers state that his health had been for some
time declining, and that the event had consequently not
been unexpected. The immediate cause of his demise was
exhaustion from renal disease, accompanied with dropsy.
During my sojourn in London in 1868 and 1872 I saw Fer-
gusson repeatedly, first at King's College Hospital, in his
capacity of clinical surgeon ; secondly, as President of the
Royal College of Surgeons ; and lastly as Chairman of the
Surgical Section of the British Medical Association at its

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 377

meeting at Birmingham, in August, 1872. In all these
relations, as well as in private life, he bore himself with
the demeanor of a well-bred gentleman, although his
manner was at all times cold and formal. His physique
was splendid : in height he was fully six feet, with
broad shoulders, a large head, and well-formed features,
the tout ensemble betokening a strong and highly-cul-
tured intellect incased in a vigorous frame. He might be
said to have been a prince of a man. He had some-
what of a Scotch accent, and was slow of speech, stately
in his movements, and quite erect in his gait. As an
operator he possessed great dexterity, and he was generally
acknowledged to be without a rival in the British me-
tropolis. He certainly was master of his knife ; and yet I
saw him do things wdiich I had often seen done quite as
well before, both at home and abroad. What more espe-
cially impressed me was his calm and deliberate manner.
There was no display or parade about him. He went
about his business like an ordinary laborer who was not
in a hurr>' to finish his task. The movements of his
hands were slow and measured, and it seemed as if
nothing could disturb his equanimity. These are cer-
tainly high attributes in an operator. As a lecturer he
was dull, monotonous, inanimate, and deficient in power
of expression. No one who listened to him while he
was explaining the history of a case could fail to be
struck with the paucity of his language, or the inad-
equacy of his remarks. To me it seemed as if he
took everything for granted ; as if the pupil knew as
much about the matter as the master. "This, gentle-
men," he said on one occasion, "this, gentlemen, is a
fatty tumor, seated in the man's neck ; it was first noticed
some six years ago, and had, as you noticed, strong attach-
ments. The patient is a butcher by occupation, and he
will, I think, do well." On another occasion he per-
fonned his favorite operation of staphylorraphy without
1—48

378 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

uttering one word of explanation as to the manner of
executing it. Sucli clinical teaching would hardly be
tolerated on this side of the Atlantic. Here a man takes
great pains to explain fully to his class the history of his
cases, their diagnosis and treatment, and, if an operation
is required, the reasons for, and the manner of, its per-
formance, with an account of the subsequent management
of the patient. In all these details, so important in a
clinical point of view, Sir William struck me as being
quite at fault. How he ranked as a didactic lecturer at
King's College in his character as professor I do not
know ; but, judging from what I saw of him at King's
College Hospital, he must have been slow, ponderous, and
uninteresting, and his pupils must have been glad to get
away from him at the expiration of his hour. His forte
was his knife — not the explanation of the structure of
a cell or the development of protoplasm. As a writer
I should ascribe to Fergusson more than ordinary merit ;
his style is clear, and his English has been excelled by
few men in our profession. He was a liberal contributor
to the periodical press ; and the author of a work entitled
Practical Surgery, which has passed through five editions,
and which will always be consulted as reflecting the views
and experience of one of the greatest surgeons of any age
or country. In 1867 he published a series of Lectures on
the Progress of Anatomy and Surgery during the Present
Century, delivered a short time previously in his capacity
as Professor of Anatomy and Surgery at the Royal College
of Surgeons of England, and originally published in the
London Lancet. These discourses are far from being
what they profess to be. One looks through them in vain
for an account of the progress of anatomy and surgery in
the nineteenth century. The great objective point of the
book is Sir William Fergusson — what Sir William has
done in regard to the operations for harelip and cleft
palate, excision of certain joints, lithotrity, and lithotomy.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 379

All this is well enough ; for it is certain that he did
more to advance operative surgery in England than all
his London confreres put together, and he had therefore
a right to speak of himself; but he had no right to de-
lude the Fellows of the Royal College of Surgeons into
the belief that, in doing so, he was giving them an ac-
count of what had been done in anatomy and surgery
during the present century in different parts of the world,
or even in his own country.

Fergusson was by birth a Scotchman, having been born
at Preston Pans, East Lothian, in 1808. He studied
medicine under Dr. Knox, the celebrated anatomist, at
a time when the latter was so unpleasantly mixed up
with the Burk and Hare scandal, which eventually drove
him into partial exile, from the effects of which he never
recovered. His pupil, whose greatness was early fore-
shadowed, firmly convinced of his master's innocence, con-
tinued to the last to sustain and to befriend him. After
taking his degree at Edinburgh, in 1828, Fergusson de-
livered private courses of lectures on Anatomy and Surgery,
and in 1836 was appointed assistant surgeon to the Royal
Infirmary. In 1840 he went to London as Professor of
Surger}' in King's College and as Surgeon to King's Col-
lege Hospital. Here he rose rapidly into notice as a dex-
terous operator, and as consulting surgeon to the higher
classes of the metropolis, including the nobility. In due
time he was appointed Sergeant Surgeon to the Queen. In
1865 he was made a baronet ; and in 1870 he was elected
President of the Royal College of Surgeons of England.
At Birmingham he acted as chairman of the Surgical
Section, and presided, in the absence of the President,
Mr. Baker, at the public dinner. The following year,
when the Association met in London, he occupied the
chair, filling it with his accustomed dignity. This, I be-
lieve, was the last honor he received from a profession
which had so long appreciated his worth as a surgeon, but

380 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

with which he never was popular as a man. His pupils,
however, were much attached to him. and many regarded
him as the Ajax of British surgery.

King's College Hospital is one of the largest and best
conducted establishments of the kind in the British me-
tropolis, and I was indebted to Sir William Fergusson for
the opportunity of seeing ever}'thing of interest about it.
Like most similar institutions in London, it is devoid of
grounds, being situated in a rather thickly-settled district,
within a short distance of the Hunterian Museum. It has
a capacity of three hundred beds, is thoroughly ventilated,
and kept in perfect order. The edifice w^as erected at
great cost, and is so lofty as to afford an excellent view
of London and its vicinity from the upper wards. In
the hall, on the first floor, opposite the door of entrance,
stands a marble statue of Thomas Bentley Todd, one of
the former physicians of the hospital, and the author
of what I have called Toddism, the founder, or at all
events one of the chief supporters, of the doctrine of a
change of type in disease, and of the feeding system in its
treatment — a system which, I do not hesitate to affirm,
has slain millions of human beings by the indiscriminate
manner in which it has been employed. The stairways
are the finest I have ever seen. The lecture-room, al-
though small, is very convenient, the seats rising abruptly
one above another, and being furnished with iron backs,
so that the students as they stand up, as most of them do,
have rests for their arms and elbows. During one of my
last visits, late in August, the audience consisted only of
thirty-five persons, mostly physicians, representatives from
America, Germany, Italy, England, Ireland, and the Brit-
ish anny in India — all apparently anxious to see and hear
Fergusson.

CHAPTER XIV.

SAD ANNIVERSARY — THE EXAMINATION OF MEDICAL STUDENTS — WASHINGTON
— THE SENATE CHAMBER — BALTIMORE — N. R. SMITH — MARTIN FARQUHAR
TUPPER — OPERATIONS — W. D. LEWIS — WHAT IS FAME? — CHICAGO — THE
MEETING OF THE AMERICAN MEDICAL ASSOCIATION — FORTUNES OF MEDICAL
MEN — BOSTON — UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE — PRESIDENT HAYES — JACOB BIGE-
LOW — ^J. B. S. JACKSON — CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS.

February 27th, 1877. — This has been a sad day with
me ; for it is the anniversary of the death of my beloved
wife, whose place in my heart can never be filled. She
was dear to me beyond measure, and I miss her more
and more as time advances. Without her, the house is
desolate. The year, despite my grief, has passed rapidly
away, thanks to my incessant occupations, which leave me
little time to indulge in gloomy thoughts, and which I
have always found to be the best antidotes for grief. My
health in the main has been good, and I have much to be
thankful for. My children are all happy ; and Dr. S. W.
Gross has been fortunate enough to marry one of the best
and most lovely of women. I now live solely for my chil-
dren. I have done no visiting since this calamity came
upon me, and I have promptly declined all invitations of
a social character. In truth, I have no inclination to go
anywhere.

This morning I completed my thirty-seventh course of
lectures on Surgery, delivered to five hundred and ninety-
eight matriculated students. I did not miss one lecture
during the entire session ; and I am sure that I never ac-
quitted myself better as a teacher. The class was uncom-
monly attentive, and so well behaved that it was unneces-

381

382 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

sary for me to utter one word of rebuke during the whole
winter. The clinics were rich in instructive cases ; and I
performed several important operations, among others lith-
otomy and ligation of the external iliac artery, both fol-
lowed by recovery.

The examination of the candidates begins on the even-
ing of February 28th, and as this is always up-hill business
I anticipate much labor and not a little vexation. Indeed,
this is always the hardest and most trjdng work of the
session. I am informed that there are upwards of two
hundred of these young men to be tortured. Few of them
are prepared as they should be ; most of them are unripe
from a want of sufficient study and training ; and not a few
of them are destitute of brains. It is lamentable to think
how imperfect the whole system of medical education is
in this country. Our students are driven from one lecture
to another, hour after hour, like so many cattle ; and the
wonder is that, when they come up for their final examina-
tion at the close of the session, they have any knowledge
at all of a fixed or definite character.

March 7th. — The examinations are over and I am heartily
rejoiced at it, as I am well nigh worn out, mentally espe-
cially. The answers hardly afford a fair average. I found
most of the candidates lamentably deficient on the princi-
ples of surgery, that part of my course upon which I always
dwell with great force and emphasis during the first six
weeks of the session. The fact is much of what the stu-
dent is taught in the early part of the session is knocked
out of him before the close. He gets a daily surfeit from
the beginning to the end ; and the consequence is that his
knowledge is vague and imperfect in every branch of his
studies. We meet this evening to vote upon the can-
didates.

March 8th. — Of the two hundred and three candidates
voted upon last evening fourteen are suspended, but as
they are all entitled to reexamination we shall have

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 383

another hard day of it. We met at two o'clock in the
afternoon, and passed all but five ! If we had been just to
ourselves we should have rejected every one of them as
utterly unfit for the doctorate ; but it is difiicult, if not
impossible, to meet with seven men who always think
alike upon any one subject ; and upon this subject espe-
cially I have always found the greatest divergence of views
among my colleagues in all the schools with which I have
ever been connected.

March loth. — The Commencement takes place at twelve
o'clock to-day at the Academy of Music. I have made up
my mind not to attend, feeling convinced that I would
break down, under the influence of the music and the
brilliant assembly, by being too forcibly reminded of one
who seldom failed on such occasions to grace the audience.
My woimds are too fresh to bear the shock. I have prom-
ised my children a visit; and I am off in the 12.10 train
for Baltimore. Joyous hearts will, I am sure, await me at
the depot, followed by the cordial greetings of my grand-
children and sons-in-law.

To-day, March 13th, my tvvo daughters — IMrs. Benjamin
F. and Mrs. Orv-ille Horwitz — and I have made an appoint-
ment to run over to Washington to take a peep at the
Senate Chamber and to lunch with our good old friend,
Mrs. J. Scott Laughton, late Madame Berghmans nte
Macalester. We find nothing in the Senate of special
interest. The galleries are crowded with visitors, and the
reporters are in full force ; but few of the Senators are in
their seats, although it is now past twelve o'clock. A
young man near us kindly points out the most conspicu-
ous men upon the floor. Presently the gavel falls, the
Senators rise to their feet, and the chaplain oflers a short
prayer. Morton is easily recognized by his crutches and
by his bulldog-looking face ; he is tall and sombre, and
walks with difficulty. He evidently feels the effects of the
wild oats sown in his youth. Blaine is walking about the

384 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

chamber with his overcoat hanging partially off his
shoulders, as much as to say, "Don't you see me? I am
Senator Blaine, lately an expectant candidate for the
Presidency, and now engaged in punishing the man
who defeated my nomination at Cincinnati." He is a
tall man, with a dark complexion, and at the distance at
which I am seated has a distinguished bearing. Simon
Cameron has just resigned his seat, and is at Harrisburg
electioneering for his son, who is to be his successor.
Conkling has the appearance of a dignified gentleman.
He has light hair, eyes, and complexion, is busily engaged
in writing, and now and then looks up to shake hands
with a colleague. "That stout, tall, sluggish-looking man
coming towards us," says our chaperone, "is Mr. Davis, of
Illinois, lately an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. ' '
I had a good look at Hamlin, Bayard, and a number of
others ; but as I surveyed the scene, and examined the
heads and faces of the men below me, I said to myself,
"There are as many great men outside the Senate Chamber
as there are in it." After the Senate had been in session
for about twenty minutes it took a recess for one hour, and
adjourned immediately after reassembling, as there was no
business of any importance to be transacted.

From the Senate Chamber we went to the room of the
Supreme Court. All the judges, in their official robes,
were in their seats. One of them, an old friend of mine,
Associate Justice Strong, was engaged in reading an
"opinion," as it is called — about as dry a business, it
seemed to me, as could possibly occupy any man's time.
A sojourn of five minutes sufficed to satisfy us that nothing
was to be gained by remaining here, and so, casting one
more look at the dignified gentlemen in black gowns, we
left the room.

We now passed into the rotunda, one of the finest struc-
tures of the kind in the world, desecrated by some of
the worst paintings that ever disgraced the brush of an

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 385

artist. Why these pictures are permitted to retain their
place in so conspicuous a part of this great building
passes all comprehension. The Landing of Columbus is
the merest daub.

The luncheon at ]\Irs. Laugh ton's was delightful, well
served, and fortified with the best wines and the best
humor. The house, although not large, is in a fashionable
part of the city, and is beautifully furnished, the walls
being adorned with the elegant pictures belonging to IVIrs.
Laughton's late father. At half past four o'clock we were
at the Washington depot, and in one hour more were in
Baltimore, the iron horse having run a distance of forty
miles within that short time.

I called this morning, IMarch i6th, upon my friend and
early anatomical preceptor, Professor N. R. Smith, the
eminent Baltimore surgeon. As I had been led to fear
from various reports, I found him greatly changed in his
appearance from the effects of long-continued suffering.
He was pale and attenuated, and, what shocked me greatly,
his mind afforded unmistakable evidence of decadence.
He was uncommonly garrulous, talked incoherently, and
frequently repeated himself, showing clearly that his mem-
ory, once so acute and ready, had given way. Dr. Smith
is now nearly, if not quite, eighty years of age ; he has
led a very active life, and is one of the most distin-
guished surgeons that our country has produced. He was
for more than forty years the main pillar of the Univer-
sity of INIaryland, and for nearly the same length of time
the head of the medical profession in Baltimore, by whom,
as well as by the community at large, he has been much
beloved. The title of " Emperor" bestowed upon him by
his confreres is an evidence of the esteem in which he is
held by them. As a mechanical surgeon he has justly
occupied a high rank ; as a surgical pathologist and prac-
titioner he has many equals. He has written little of
value. His book on the Surgical Anatomy of the Arteries
1—49

386 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

is his best production. He has devised several ingenious
instruments, one in particular for simplifying lithotomy ;
and his anterior splint for the treatment of fractures of
the lower extremity has made his name widely known at
home and abroad. Dr. Smith has long been a member of
the Maryland Club, is passionately fond of a game of
euchre, and has the reputation of being one of the best
anecdotists in the country. In person he is nearly six feet
in height and gracefully formed. To look at such a man,
worn out by disease and protracted suffering, a mere wreck
of what he once was, is a melancholy sight. After listen-
ing to him for half an hour, which he spent almost wholly
in giving me a disconnected account of his case, I sorrow-
fully took my leave, feeling convinced that, although he
might last a few months longer, I should never again see
him alive.

Professor Smith, like most men who have attained to
eminence, began life poor. His father, the celebrated
Nathan Smith, of New Haven, a man of mark in his
day, left no heritage to his children save an honored
name. When in 1825 ^^ ^^^^ ^^o had already been a
professor at Burlington, Vermont, came to Philadelphia to
enter upon the duties of the anatomical chair in the Jeffer-
son Medical College, then recently created, he was hardly
thirty years of age, and almost wholly without means.
During the two 5^ears of his connection with the college
the fees from the students were very slender, and as he
was a stranger in a city which could boast of many of the
best medical men in the country he had little or no prac-
tice. It was therefore not surprising that, in the autumn
of 1827, h^ eagerly accepted the chair of Anatomy in the
University of Maryland, with the assurance that upon the
resignation of Professor Davidge, then old and infirm, he
should succeed to the chair of Surgery. The change was
one of great advantage to him, and a few years sufficed
to place Dr. Smith in independent circumstances. For

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 387

more than a third of a century he enjoyed an immense
practice, and his earnings must have been great, although,
from some cause or other, his estate is now not large. Dr.
Smith was for three years Professor of Medicine in Tran-
sylvania University under a guaranty, if I mistake not, of
three thousand dollars a session and the privilege of re-
taining his residence in Baltimore.

During my sojourn in Baltimore I was the guest of my
son-in-law, Mr. B. F. Horwitz. On the evening of IVIarch
1 7th he was kind enough to invite some gentlemen to meet
me at a game of euchre, of which he knew me to be some-
what fond, although I have never been a good player.
Soon after we sat down at the table Mr. Martin Farquhar
Tupper was announced, and every one of course extended
to him a cordial greeting. Other persons dropped in as the
evening advanced, and the conversation was for a while
quite animated. Presently Mr. Tupper got upon the sub-
ject of stammering, saying that he had had an impediment
in his speech from early childhood, and that it was only
by the most steady and persistent efforts during the last
forty years, assisted by constant prayer, that he succeeded
in curing himself of it. "I have," said he, "in my Pro-
verbial Philosophy, described this distressing affection;"
and, asking for a copy of the book, he read aloud with
great feeling what is probably the most eloquent account
of it to be found in the language. Upon asking him
whether he had entirely broken himself of this habit, his
reply was, "I still stammer occasionally, but only in a
very slight degree, hardly noticeable in ordinary conversa-
tion." Most of the Proverbial Philosophy was written be-
fore he was twenty-three years old. Mr. Tupper is a gen-
tleman of medium height, with a good forehead and a
benevolent-looking face, very gray, bald, and well on, I
should judge, in the seventies. The fingers of his right
hand are crooked from the effects of articular rheumatism,
and in writing he holds his pen with difhculty. He has

388 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

now been in the country for some months, engaged in giv-
ing readings, mainly from his own writings, chiefly from
his Philosophy, in the principal cities of the Union. He
is not a good reader, even of his own works ; his voice
is sharp, discordant, and not well modulated. He re-
ceives much attention ; and as he is of an eminently so-
cial disposition, he seems to enjoy life like a philosopher,
as he is. What particularly gratified me was the compli-
mentary manner in which he spoke of our country, and
the liberal views he takes of our institutions. He had no
hesitation in saying that the Americans speak English
better, as a nation, than any people in the world. This is
Mr. Tupper's second visit to the United States, the first
having been made about twenty years ago. The com-
pany remained till a late hour, and the evening was one
of the most pleasant I have ever spent anywhere.

On April 14th, 1877, at my college clinic, I performed
one of the greatest and most delicate operations of my life.
The case was one of lymphoma of the left side of the neck,
in a young man of twenty-one years, a resident of Ken-
tucky. It was of nearly two and a half years' duration,
and had latterly increased very much in bulk. It extended
from the base of the jaw to the collar bone on the one hand,
and from near the middle line in front to near the middle
of the neck behind on the other, and was composed of nu-
merous nodules, the largest of which was about the size
of a goose's ^%^. The dissection, which occupied nearly
one hour, exposed the sheath of the common carotid artery
and internal jugular vein, with its accompanying nerves,
the digastric and omohyoid muscles, the hypoglossal nerv^e,
the parotid and submaxillary glands, and other important
structures. The sterno-cleido-mastoid muscle was divided
in the lower part of its course, as it overlay some of the
enlarged glands. The only important artery that was
divided was the facial ; but more than twenty vessels were
tied, as blood flowed from numerous points, although prob-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 389

ably not more than six ounces were lost in the operation.
The youth suffered no pain, as he was kept constantly
under the influence of chloroform by Dr. Heame. My
other assistants were Dr. S. W. Gross, Dr. Barton, Dr.
Lopez, and Dr. Johnston. Dr. Sayre, of New York, hap-
pened to be present, and declared it was the most delicate
and beautiful operation he had ever witnessed. Although
I am now nearly seventy-two years of age, my sight is ex-
cellent and my hand is as steady as ever.

I spent the 20th of April at Florence Heights with Mr.
William D. Lewis, an old banker, and one of our most re-
spectable citizens. Mr. Henr}^ C. Carey accompanied me.
It was the first dinner I have taken away from my own
family since the death of my dear wife, nearly fourteen
months ago. It was pleasant, as well as edifying, to hear
these two octogenarians, lifelong and devoted friends, con-
verse, telling anecdotes, and relating occurrences which
took place half a century or more ago. Among the anec-
dotes told by Mr. Lewis was one which he gave upon the
authority of Henry Clay, as tending to show that, however
pure a man's character may be in private life, the moment
he engages in politics it is sure to be assailed and vilified.
A very intelligent and respectable fanner was solicited to
become a candidate for the office of sheriff. It was sup-
posed that a man of so spotless a character would exercise
great influence in promoting the election of the nominee
for Congress in his district. After much persuasion he
reluctantly assented, with the understanding, however,
that he was on no account to be called upon to address
his fellow-citizens. Things went on pretty well for some
time, when some of his friends called upon him and
alarmed him by telling him that his honesty was called in
question. "My honesty? I defy any one to prove that.
What do they say?" "They assert that you are guilty
of hog-stealing ; that on one occasion some of your neigh-
bor's hogs had gone into one of your fields, and that instead

390 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

of returning them you kept tliem. Now your friends
deem it proper that you should repel this charge. Of course
we know it to be false, but your opponents must be satis-
fied that it is false ; otherwise it will jeopard your elec-
tion." He forthwith took the stump, but only got deeper
in the mire. IVIeeting Mr. Clay some time afterwards, he
said, ' ' Well, they not only accused me of hog-stealing,
but, by G — , they proved it on me, despite all I could say
to the contrar\\" The moral of all this is that, if a
man desires to retain his self-respect, he had better be
careful how he meddles with politics.

Mr. Lewis has a pleasant country residence on the banks
of the Delaware, where he spends most of his time in read-
ing and meditation. Early in life he passed several years
at St. Petersburg, studying the Russian language, and
translating a small volume of Russian poetry. He is a
vigorous talker, and enjoys a hearty joke or good anecdote
as much as ever.

At our annual Faculty meeting on May 2d, while at
supper, the conversation turned upon various subjects ;
among others the singular manner in which a man some-
times obtains practice. Dr. Richard J. Levis, it was
stated, had just gone to California to perform an opera-
tion for the relief of carcinoma of the rectum, his patient
having heard that he had recently operated in two
similar cases, one of which, I know, died within a few
days after. Dr. Da Costa said the circumstance reminded
him of one that had occurred in his own practice. A
gentleman of London, a man of wealth, the subject of a
thoracic fistule consequent upon an attack of chronic
pleurisy, was informed by an Italian organ-grinder who
was one day playing before his window that he had,
some years before, suffered in Philadelphia from a sim-
ilar disease, of which he had been cured by Dr. Da Costa.
He forthwith embarked for the United States, and in due
time found himself in that professor's office. He had been

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 391

under the care of different physicians in London without
material benefit, and was determined to see what Amer-
ican skill might have in store for him.

At my clinic on May 5th I removed a polyp from an
elderly man's nose, operated upon a case of double club-
foot, and cut a child three years of age for stone in the
bladder — all in less than one hour.

On May 12th, at the college clinic, I cut a child eighteen
months old for stone in the bladder, and lost him at the
end of eighteen hours from the joint effects of shock, loss
of blood, and urinary infiltration. The little fellow was
much emaciated from severe and protracted suffering, and
was therefore not in good condition for an operation.
I made my incisions, as usual, with great care ; but, de-
spite this, a large vessel, probably the artery of the bulb,
was divided, and the flow of blood could not be stopped
without plugging the wound with lint wet with Monsel's
salt — a catheter having previously been inserted into the
bladder. This had the desired effect, and there was no re-
currence of hemorrhage. The child was pale and feeble,
but rallied some time afterwards. During the night he
became worse, and gradually sank from sheer exhaus-
tion. Some urine had passed around the plug in the
wound into the scrotum and perineum, thus adding to the
trouble. The stone was seven-eighths of an inch in its
long diameter, and one and a half inch in its shortest cir-
cumference— a large mass for so young a child.

Altogether I have now performed this operation sixty-
nine times upon young children, with two deaths, in-
cluding the present one, the first having been caused by
pyaemia at the end of the twenty-eighth day. This record,
until the last mishap, was, as far as I know, without a
parallel. Including the failure, it is still a very uncom-
mon record, and one with which any lithotomist might
well be satisfied.

What is fame? My son, Dr. S. W. Gross, one of the

392 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

party on board the revenue cutter wliicli took Mrs. Grant
and her friends down to New Castle on May i6th to meet
the steamer Indiana, which was to take her and the Gen-
eral to Europe, was gravely asked by ex-Senator Simon
Cameron if I was still alive ! My son assured the learned
ex-senator that his father was not only not dead, but that
he was able to perform as good a day's work as ever.
This circumstance revives a curious recollection respecting
Dr. Thomas D. Miitter and Dr. John K. Mitchell, both
eminent men in their day. Miitter had been dead for
five or six years, when one day Professor Dunglison, then
dean of our Faculty, received a letter from a physician in
New Hampshire, making inquiries concerning his old
teacher's whereabouts. Mitchell had been dead nearly
equally long when a sick man came to the college clinic
bearing a letter addressed to the deceased professor, dated
Florence Heights, New Jersey, a few miles above Phila-
delphia, on the banks of the Delaware !

The weather on May 20th and during the preceding three
days has been extremely hot, the thermometer, in many
places in the shade, ranging from 93° to 97° Fahrenheit,
an occurrence without a parallel at this season within the
last fifty-three years. The effect both upon man and beast
has been marked. The foliage of most of our forest trees
is fully expanded, and the wheat and grass in the neigh-
borhood of Philadelphia look uncommonly well. Wild
flowers exist in abundance.

June 3d. — At a quarter of twelve o'clock in the morn-
ing I leave for Chicago, to attend the twenty-eighth meet-
ing of the American Medical Association, which will take
place in that city on June 5tli. The day is beautiful, but
the track is dusty and the air hot. The road passes
through a delightful region of country, embracing Lan-
caster County, one of the most fertile spots in the world,
distinguished for its excellent farms and fields, which are
covered with rich grain and grass, while the fences and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 393

barns are in the best possible order. Everything seems to
be in its appropriate place. The scenery as far as Pitts-
burgh and some distance beyond is interesting, and often
grand and imposing, especially at the Horseshoe beyond
Altoona, on the Allegheny Mountains. In Eastern Ohio
the country is more level, and on reaching Illinois it is flat
and smooth, and so continues along the entire route to
Chicago, exhibiting a prairie in a state of high cultivation.
Farms on an extensive scale are seen as far as the eye can
reach upon each side of the road, which runs in a bee-line
over a smooth, level track, with very little motion of the
car. The fields are luxuriant, and the soil is loose and
fertile, admitting of easy cultivation. The land is well
watered. What strikes one as peculiar is the absence of
stock, or the paucity of horses, sheep, cattle, and swine.
The houses are small and of frame, and there are few barns
to be seen,

I reached Chicago at twenty minutes past seven o'clock
on the evening of June 4th, and took lodgings at the Pal-
mer House, a hotel of immense size, erected at a cost of
more than three million dollars. It is beyond question
one of the finest cities in the world. Its stores are speci-
mens of architectural beauty, and are five, six, and seven
stories high. The streets are from eighty to one hundred
feet wide. Many of the private houses are elegant, and
surrounded by spacious grounds ornamented with flowers
and shrubbery. I am told that ninety million bushels of .
grain were shipped from this city last year, and that six-
teen hundred thousand hogs were slaughtered. Aladdin
has evidently been here with his lamp. The population
exceeds four hundred thousand. Less than fifty years ago
the site of the city was a wild prairie at the foot of a lake.

The meeting was organized at eleven o'clock in the

morning on the 5th of June, Dr. Bowditch, of Boston,

President, in the chair. Six hundred and eighty-five

names were registered. The meeting was harmonious,

1—50

394 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

but no important papers were read. In the surgical sec-
tion, presided over by Professor Frank H, Hamilton, of
New York, I read a brief article on the proximate cause of
pain, which elicited a few remarks from Dr. Hodgen, of St.
Louis, who was evidently unprepared to discuss the sub-
ject. On motion to refer it to the Committee on Publica-
tion, one delegate cried out lustily, "No." I could not
learn who he was. Five or six female physicians were
admitted as members. One of them, near the close of the
session, went to the President, and expressed a desire to
thank the Association for its liberality in admitting them
to the meeting ; but he wisely withheld his consent.

Although the American Medical Association has done
much good, it has by no means accomplished even a
moiety of what it had promised to do, or what had been
expected of it. In regard to its educational reforms, it
has been an utter failure, and I think the same may be
said in regard to its scientific labors. While the Trans-
actions contains some excellent papers which would be
creditable to a similar body of men anywhere, it con-
tains many others which are entirely destitute of merit,
and are disreputable as literary productions. The Prize
Essays are, for the most part, of a mediocre character. A
few possess genuine value. The social relations of the
Association have been quite a success, and these are one
of its most valuable features. The annual meetings bring
into contact men from all sections of the United States,
who are thus afforded an opportunity of renewing old ac-
quaintanceship and of making new friends. An attempt
was recently made to unite the American Medical Asso-
ciation with the Canada Medical Association, but it failed,
because, as each body is migratory, the attendance would
often be very difficult, if not impossible, for both parties.
The subject has been finally disposed of by an agree-
ment to send delegates, as heretofore, each to the other.
The annual addresses in medicine, surgery, midwifery,

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 395

and hygiene are worse than useless, and are not what such
an Association should listen to, covering, as they do, merely
the advances made in these branches during the preceding
year — a task which any youth of tolerable respectability in
the profession could execute as well as any veteran. Eight
or nine years ago, when I suggested the reading of these
addresses, it never occurred to me that they would be
limited to such humble work ; and at the recent meeting
at Chicago the Committee on Nominations, at my instance,
brought the matter prominently before the Association, and
proposed an amendment to the by-laws by which, instead
of making it incumbent upon the chairmen of the sections
to deliver these addresses, the task shall be confided to
separate officers with a choice of subjects ; so that, should
this suggestion be carried into effect, we may hereafter
reasonably expect a more reputable literary diet list. An-
other defect which should be promptly remedied, and
concerning which I expressed my mind freely more than
twenty years ago, is the lack of an anniversary dinner on
the evening of the third day of the meeting. The admis-
sion fee to this should be five dollars, and the attendance
should of course be optional. Much benefit would result
from such an arrangement by bringing the members into
more intimate social relations, to be secured in no other
way.

I was made Chairman of the Committee on Nomina-
tions. There were four candidates for the office of Presi-
dent at this meeting. Dr. T. G. Richardson received, on
the first ballot, fifteen votes, or a majority of one of all
the votes cast. He was nominated by Dr. Marsey, of
Massachusetts. The other candidates were By ford, of
Chicago ; Parv'in, of Indianapolis ; and White, of Buffalo
— three g}'naccologists, I interested myself in the elec-
tion of Richardson. I was anxious to show our Southern
brethren, inasmuch as he was a representative man, and
lived in a State which, after long-continued suffering,

396 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

had just been rehabilitated, that we were desirous of see-
ing them reunited with us in the Association. I felt that,
although I might incur some odium on account of my
efforts, the effect must be good — -just as I felt in 1868, when
I used my best endeavors to promote the election to the
same position of Dr. Baldwin, of Montgomery, Alabama,
an eminent physician, popular in the South, and therefore
well fitted to conciliate Southern feeling and allay South-
em prejudice. That his election had this effect has been
generally admitted. In regard to Dr. Richardson, it is
not to be forgotten that the Association, mainly at his
instance and amid great opposition, met at New Orleans
in 1873, ^^^ ^^^t ^^ spent much time and money in enter-
taining its members, while all the important offices were
conferred upon non-residents, regardless of the hospitalities
just received.

There were three entertainments given by prominent
citizens of Chicago every evening ; but, as I had not yet
gone into society or accepted any hospitalities since the
death of my dear wife, I did not attend any of them. It
was my good fortune at the meeting to greet many of my
private pupils, some of whom have justly attained distinc-
tion ; and there were few, if any, of the members who
were not personally introduced to me. It was quite
amusing, sometimes annoying, to hear them ask how old
I was and tell me how well I bore my age.

Several weeks ago I received from Dr. Alfred Hosmer,
of Watertown, anniversary chairman, a letter cordially in-
viting me to be present at the annual dinner of the Massa-
chusetts Medical Society at Music Hall, Boston, to be
given June 13th, at one o'clock. This was backed by
a letter from that excellent and clever physician, Dr.
D. Humphreys Storer, and by a personal entreaty of Dr.
Bowditch, President of the American Medical Association,
whom I met at Chicago last week. I regret that I am un-
able to go, as I am an honorary member of the society. It

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D.

397

would afford me mucli pleasure to meet my Massachusetts
friends, for many of whom I entertain the highest respect
as practitioners of medicine and surgery, pathologists,
writers, scholars, and gentlemen. I see by the newspapers
of June i6th that eight hundred and fifty persons sat down
at table, honored by the presence of Governor Rice, Presi-
dent Eliot of Harvard University, Professor Austin Flint,
Sr., and Professor John C. Dalton of New York, and of
many of the oldest and most prominent members of the
Massachusetts Medical Society.

It is the lot of most medical men to die poor. Now and
then there is of course an exception. Sir William Fer-
gusson, who died on the loth of last February, left an
estate valued at thirty thousand pounds. One hundred
and fifty thousand dollars of our money is a small sum
when we consider his large practice — much of it among
the English and Scotch nobility — and the immense fees
he must have received for many years, to say nothing
of his income as a teacher of surgery in King's College.
Liston, who enjoyed a world-wide reputation as a surgeon,
and who was the early contemporary' of Fergusson at
Edinburgh, died worth scarcely a few thousand pounds.
On the other hand, William Coulson, who died a short
time ago in London, where he had practised all his life,
principally as a lithotomist, left an estate of upwards of
one million dollars. How he accumulated this immense
fortune, the bulk of which he bequeathed to a nephew,
it is difficult to conceive. As a man of ability and
an operative surgeon he was far inferior to Fergusson or
Liston. During my visit to London in 1868 I called upon
Mr. Coulson, and found him in obscure apartments in
what is known as the Jewry, near St. Paul's. There, he
informed me, he had resided for many years, actively
engaged in practice, largely, if not chiefly, in urinary
diseases. Upon these disorders, early in life, he had
published a treatise, which, passing through a number of

398 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

editions, had doubtless been of great semce in securing
for him business as a specialist.

I reached Boston at seven o'clock on the morning of June
27th, and at eleven o'clock went with Mr. John Revere, my
son's father-in-law, to attend the Commencement of Har-
vard University. The interest of the occasion was en-
hanced by the presence of President Hayes and several
of the members of his Cabinet, prominent among whom
was General Devens, the Attorney-General, a native of
IMassachusetts and a gentleman of much popularity with
the citizens of Boston. Sanders Theatre, where the ex-
ercises took place, was filled to overflowing with a fash-
ionable and intelligent audience. The graduating class, it
was said, acquitted itself with unusual credit. The degree
of D. C. L. was conferred upon President Hayes, and that
of LL. D. upon Mr. Devens. The alumni dinner came
off at three o'clock in the large banqueting room in
Memorial Hall, which on this occasion seated nearly
twelve hundred guests, and which vividly reminded me
of the banqueting hall at Christ Church, Oxford. The
walls are adorned with the portraits and busts of the
great men whose services have rendered Harvard the first
university of the land. The founder, John Harvey, who
is represented as a tall, slender man, arra^-ed in a morn-
ing gown and slippers, appropriately occupies the centre.
General Devens, President of the Alumni, presided, and
made a capital opening speech, full of feeling and of good
sense. Other addresses followed, and caused much enthu-
siasm. The remarks of President Hayes were brief, and
were simply expressive of his appreciation of the honors
bestowed upon him by the University and of the pleasure
he had experienced at the warmth of his reception since
his arrival in Massachusetts. Among the more prominent
speakers were Governor Rice of Massachusetts, George
Bancroft, the historian, Postmaster-General Key, President
Eliot of Har\-ard University, Carl Schurz, and Professor

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 399

James Russell Lowell, recently appointed IMinister to
Spain. The list of graduates in the different departments
was a lengthy one, that in medicine embracing sixty-
two names, of whom nearly one-half were bachelors or
masters of arts — a circumstance which speaks well for this
institution. Since the appointment of Dr. Eliot as Pres-
ident, Harvard has signalized itself by the adoption of
stringent regulations in regard to the admission of pupils ;
and the result is manifested in a much higher standard
of education in all the branches taught in the several
schools. The example thus set cannot fail to exert a salu-
tary influence upon the colleges of our country.

The grounds of Harvard University, with its dozen or
more large edifices, remind one forcibly of those at Oxford
and Cambridge in England. One's only regret is that
they are not more spacious. Many of the buildings are old,
and most of them are destitute of architectural taste. Me-
morial Hall is a splendid edifice, erected at great cost, and
worthy of the place. It is the Sheldonian Theatre of Har-
vard, with the addition of the banqueting hall of Christ
Church, Oxford. In the large vestibule are numerous
marble tablets, inscribed with the names of the sons of
Harvard who fell in defence of their countrv' during the
late war. The magnificent elms in the college grounds
form a striking feature in the landscape.

On June 28th I attended, at Sanders Theatre, the exer-
cises of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, the principal of
which consisted of an oration by Wx. Thomas F. Bayard,
of Delaware, on the Relations of the American Citizen to
his Government. This was followed by a poem on Haw-
thorne, by Edmund C. Stedman, of New York. Judging
from the frequent applause bestowed upon Mr. Bayard's
address, I am disposed to think that it was meritorious ;
and this, I believe, was the general opinion of the audience
who, for nearly two hours, listened to it. It was certainly
a scholarly production, and it had the merit of being well

400

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

delivered. Through the politeness of my good friend, Dr.
Henry H. Bowditch, of Boston, I had the honor of dining
with the Society, and was again brought into contact with
a number of distinguished men. The presiding officer was
Edward Everett Hale, a tall man, with a peculiar voice
and not very prepossessing manners, although he was face-
tious and entertaining. The principal speakers were Pres-
ident Eliot, Bayard, Stedman, and Eowell. The occasion
was a very pleasant one ; but I was obliged to leave before
the dinner was over, as it was necessary that I should
reach the half past five o'clock train for Canton, the resi-
dence of my friend, Mr. Revere — a grandson of the fa-
mous Paul Revere — with whose charming family I spent
my nights during my stay in Massachusetts.

I had not seen Boston since 1859, a period of eighteen
years, during which many changes had of course taken
place. Boston Common has a wide reputation. Its old,
umbrageous elms impart to it a classical appearance, and
afford on a hot day protection from the sun alike to the
poorest citizen and to the millionaire. The public garden,
close by, is a beautiful specimen of landscape horticulture,
and is at this moment arrayed in all its glory, the June
roses being in full bloom. The newer portions of the city,
built upon land reclaimed from marshes once the bed of
the ocean, are distinguished for their fine avenues and their
elegant private dwellings, Ever^^where cleanliness is ap-
parent, and, what is remarkable, I saw no evidence of pov-
erty in my extensive rides through the city. Neatness is a
predominating feature of Boston.

With President Hayes I was favorably impressed. He
has a fine head, with an agreeable, expressive face, and a
modest demeanor worthy of a man in his high position.
Although I did not at all approve of the manner in which
he got into office, I accepted the situation the more will-
ingly because I had fonned a high opinion of his honesty,
and felt that he would do all he could to restore peace and

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 401

happiness to the Southern States at an early day after his
inauguration.

My visit to Boston would have been incomplete without
seeing Dr. Jacob Bigelow — clarum et veiierabile nomen —
now in the ninet^'-second year of his age. For two years
he has been blind and has not left his bed ; and when I
seized his hand, he said, "I cannot see you; but I can
press your hand and bid you a cordial welcome." As he
lay on his pillow his countenance, calm and serene, with a
most benignant expression, denotive of conscious repose
and of 'resignation to the divine will, reminded me of
what I had read of some Roman philosopher. I never
looked upon a countenance in which dignity and gentle-
ness were so beautifully blended. His mind was clear,
and his memor}^ seemingly unclouded. He made many
inquiries about the medical schools and medical men of
Philadelphia, and expressed much satisfaction when I told
him that Philadelphia still maintained her supremacy as
the emporium of medical science on this continent. It
was to me a source of no ordinary'- gratification to learn
that he was free from bodily suffering ; and that he enjoyed
sound sleep and an excellent appetite with a good, whole-
some digestion — blessings not usually associated in one so
far advanced in life. During the twenty minutes spent at
the bedside of this remarkable man — a man to whom our
profession is so much indebted for many happy sugges-
tions— it was pleasant to see his venerable wife, a small,
delicate-looking lady, only five years younger than him-
self, sitting near by, listening with profound respect and
attention to the words of kindness and of wisdom as they
flowed from his lips.

In company with my friend, Dr. Bowditch, I called
upon Dr. Edward Hammond Clarke, who for the last two
years or more has been a great sufferer from a malignant
disease, which has made serious inroads upon his constitu-
tion. He received us in his chamber, reclining upon a
I— 51

402 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF i

lounge, from which he seldom rises, as he is unable to sit
up. I became acquainted with Dr. Clarke about eight or
nine years ago, when he brought me a letter of introduc-
tion from a common friend in Boston, and took breakfast
with me the following morning. A more genial gen-
tleman I have rarely met — highly cultured, refined, and
intelligent I said to him, ' ' You must have composed
under great difficulty, if not severe suffering, your paper,
in the American Journal of the Medical Sciences, on the
Progress of Medicine in America during the last Century?"
" I wrote the whole of it," was his reply, "upon this couch
with the aid of my wife as an amanuensis. When I found
my pain coming on I called for pen and paper and began
to dictate. In about an hour, as my mind became absorbed
in my subject, the pain gradually subsided, and in this
way I usually worked several hours every day until the
task was completed. Thus, you perceive," he added,
' ' not only did writing serve to amuse me, but it acted as
an anodyne." What renders the situation of Dr. Clarke
particularly sad is the loss, a few months ago, of his wife,
an excellent woman, much beloved. He has an only child,
a daughter, who does all she can to comfort him in his
affliction. He has written many admirable papers, chiefly
medical ; and is the author of a clever little book on Sex
in Education, which has attracted much attention. Sick
as he is, he is now engaged in writing a work — probably
destined to be a posthumous publication — on Psychology,
in which he will trench largely on spiritualism. The
loss of such a man, possessed of so many excellent quali-
ties of head and heart, will be a serious one to our pro-
fession.

Of Dr. Bowditch this is not the time or place fully to
speak. He is still an active man, although like my-
self advanced in years. He is a son of Nathaniel Bow-
ditch, the illustrious translator of La Place's M^canique
Celeste, and a physician of rare gifts, a pupil of the re-

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 403

nowned Louis of Paris, and an accomplished diagnostician
and practitioner. He is skilled in the treatment of
thoracic diseases, of which he has for many years made a
specialty. His writings on Empyema have made his name
well known both at home and abroad. Another excel-
lent professional brother whom it was my good fortune to
meet during this visit is Dr. J. B. S. Jackson, now old, but
still fresh and vigorous, one of the best men in the world,
enjoying a wide and enviable reputation as a pathological
anatomist, to the study of which he has devoted a life-
time. For many years he has occupied the chair of Morbid
Anatomy in Harvard College, and has been instrumen-
tal in diffusing a taste for the study of this important
science, while at the same time he has thrown substantial
light upon the diagnosis and treatment of many diseases.
Strange to say. Dr. Jackson has never, I am told, engaged
in practice, a circumstance due probably to two causes —
his sensitive nature and the fact that he is wealthy. He
has written v^ry little. With the vast amount of material
on his hands he ought long ago to have produced a great
work on pathological anatomy.

Mount Auburn Cemetery is said to present many attrac-
tions to visitors, and yet, I confess, it fell behind my an-
ticipations. While the grounds are fine, as if nature had
designed them for a cemetery, and are kept in good order
with flower-beds in every direction, one looks in vain for
elegant monuments. There are only a few that properly
come under this designation. That of Nathaniel Bow-
ditch, a bronze statue, of life size, a good likeness of the
great mathematician, with a globe at his side, is by far
the best of all. There is a small monument erected by
the city of Boston to the memory of Morton, who was the
first to administer ether successfully for the prevention of
pain in surgical operations. In the chapel the statues of
Winthrop, the first Governor of Massachusetts, of Otis, of
John Adams, and of Story, are fine works of art. Among

404 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the distinguished dead buried here are Sumner, Choate,
Agassiz, Everett, Longfellow, Margaret Fuller, and Char-
lotte Cushman.

In the crowd on Wednesday a small gentleman of very
plain appearance, and earnestly engaged in conversation,
was pointed out to me by a friend at my side with the re-
mark, uttered in a whisper, "That small gentleman is
Charles Francis Adams. ' ' I looked, perhaps stared a little,
but saw nothing in the "small gentleman" worthy of spe-
cial notice — certainly none of the characteristics of a great
man, of a man of genius, or of a descendant of illustrious
sires. The grandfather, John Adams, was a man of short
stature, with a large head and a majestic intellect. John
Quincy Adams, the father, was of medium height, with a
fine head and a superior brain, but of a less powerful mind
than his father ; and the grandson, Charles Francis Adams,
and his children, are gradually tapering down, intellect-
ually speaking, to the common level, in accordance with a
law of God that great talent and genius shall not long re-
main in the same family. The sons of Clay and Webster
have been of little account. It was my good fortune to
meet with John Quincy Adams in July, 1832, on the New
Brunswick and New York steamer, on which we were
passengers. He and Mrs. Adams were on their way from
Washington City to Massachusetts ; and I was on mine to
New York, to visit the cholera hospitals. There were but
few people on board, and Mr. Adams was, of course, the
observed of all observers. I scanned the venerable man
from head to toe, and was particularly struck with his
large bald head and his fine features, so expressive of be-
nevolence. He had all the lineaments and characteristics
of an aristocratic gentleman. Few persons approached
him ; and he wisely gave the infected city a wide berth.
The vessel on which he was a passenger carried him di-
rectly to the New England boat, as he was, like every
one else, afraid of the cholera. Mrs. Adams impressed me

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M.D. 405

as a quiet, dignified lady, nearly of tlie same age as her
distinguished consort.

A telegram to-day, July 3d, announces the death of Dr.
N. R, Smith, the great surgeon, as having occurred this
morning at six o'clock, in the eighty-first year of his age.
He was born in the town of Cornish, New Hampshire, in
May, 1797 ; graduated in the literary and medical depart-
ments of Yale College, receiving the degree of Doctor of
Medicine in 1823 5 lived for a time in a Virginia family in
the capacity of a classical instructor ; and a few years ago,
under the name of "Viator," published a small volume
entitled Legends of the South, consisting of romantic
stories of life in Virginia and Kentucky. A long time
will elapse before Baltimore will have another Nathan
Ryno Smith, a man of the same commanding talents, in-
fluence, practical skill, and professional acumen. A gen-
eration produces few examples of such useful and distin-
guished men. I must not omit to add that Dr. Smith,
during the last five years of his life, was a firm believer
in the immortality of the soul, a constant attendant upon
church, and a devoted Christian, freely confessing his sins
before God, and earnestly preparing himself for the enjoy-
ment of what he believed to be a higher and better world
beyond the grave. His funeral was largely attended by
all classes of citizens, but more especially by the members
of his own profession ; and flowers, the gift of loving
friends, in great abundance covered his coffin. It was a
source of deep regret to me that it was not in my power
to be present on the sad occasion to do honor to a man to
whom I was so warmly attached and whom I so greatly
revered.

Cape May, July 8th. — This is my seventy-second birth-
day, which finds me in excellent health and in better
spirits than I was a year ago. My children are very kind
to me, and send me their congratulations and best wishes.
Haller, the dear boy, with a heart always brimful of love

4o6 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

for me, sent me yesterday from the city a basket of
magnificent flowers, principally red and yellow roses,
to gladden my heart and grace our table. Dear Maria
gives me a beautiful paper-cutter and a small portfolio ;
and the children pretty little Swiss flower-glasses. My
good little friend, Mrs. Marsily, presents me with a very
pretty brush, the top of which is enamelled and ornamented
with pansies. If my dear wife were not forever separated
from me, I should be perfectly happy.

I left Cape May on the morning of August 27th after
a sojourn of six weeks spent in rest and sea-bathing.
Every Monday morning I made a visit to the city to look
after my patients, and returned either the same afternoon
or the next day. My health, in consequence of this mode
of life, has been much improved. I have gained flesh and
strength, and I am told by all my friends that I look uncom-
monly well. The Stockton, the most fashionable hotel of
the place, has been crowded with visitors ; but few of them
were persons of note. Before there were railway facili-
ties, many of the most distinguished citizens of Philadel-
phia and Baltimore went there to spend a part of the
summer, and the society, it is said, was all that could be
desired. The great objection to Cape May as a summer
resort is the mosquito, which, whenever there is a land
breeze, is most annoying ; always hungr}^ and always bent
upon blood. Ugly sores are often engendered by its bite.
The bathing is excellent, as good as anywhere in the
world, and better than at any other place along the New
Jersey shore. Cape May presents some of the most lovely
and gorgeous sunsets I have ever witnessed ; and the sky,
in clear weather, is as beautiful as any ever seen in Italy.
I have always considered sea-bathing as a great luxury,
highly conducive, as a rule, to the promotion of health.
The fight with the surf is in itself an excellent exercise,
and the action of the water upon the surface an exhila-
rating stimulant.

SAMUEL D. GROSS, M. D. 407

Our new hospital on Sansom Street, near the College,
was opened on the evening of September 30th, 1877, in
the presence of a large and select audience. An address
by the president gave an account of the enterprise ; and
in another address Professor Joseph Pancoast spoke in
graphic terms of the founder of the Jefferson Medical
College, Dr. George McClellan, and portrayed the ad-
vantages of clinical instruction to the medical student.
My colleagues had requested me to deliver the address ;
but as Professor Pancoast, although now retired from ac-
tive teaching, had been many years longer in the school,
I insisted that this honor was due to him, and I was
glad when, after some hesitation, he finally gave his
consent, for I knew he would perform the task with his
accustomed ability. The hospital has a capacity for
one hundred beds, and contains the noblest amphitheatre
that I have seen. The need of such an institution had
been long felt. The trustees are now engaged in erect-
ing, in close proximity to the College, workshops for the
students, wliich when completed, as they shortly will be,
will afford ample accommodations for the study of prac-
tical chemistry, microscopy, experimental physiology, and
minor and operative surgery. It was my privilege to hold
the first clinic in the new amphitheatre, and to perform
in it the first surgical operation in the presence of the
medical class several weeks before the formal opening of
the hospital.

END OF VOL. I.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

This book is due on the date indicated below, or at the
expiration of a definite period after the date of borrowing, as
provided by the library rules or by special arrangement with
the Librarian in charge.

DATE BORROWED

DATE DUE

DATE BORROWED

DATE DUE

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ON [>nS0NAL RESERVE SHElf

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