THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORG(江湖骗子自白)
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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
1
THE
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A
QUACK AND THE CASE
OF GEORGE DEDLOW
BY S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D., LL.D. HARVARD
AND EDINBURGH
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
2
INTRODUCTION
Both of the tales in this little volume appeared originally in the
``Atlantic Monthly'' as anonymous contributions. I owe to the present
owners of that journal permission to use them. ``The Autobiography of a
Quack '' has been recast with large additions.
``The Case of George Dedlow'' was not written with any intention that
it should appear in print. I lent the manuscript to the Rev. Dr. Furness and
forgot it. This gentleman sent it to the Rev. Edward Everett Hale. He,
presuming, I fancy, that every one desired to appear in the ``Atlantic,''
offered it to that journal. To my surprise, soon afterwards I received a
proof and a check. The story was inserted as a leading article without my
name. It was at once accepted by many as the description of a real case.
Money was collected in several places to assist the unfortunate man, and
benevolent persons went to the ``Stump Hospital,'' in Philadelphia, to see
the sufferer and to offer him aid. The spiritual incident at the end of the
story was received with joy by the spiritualists as a valuable proof of the
truth of their beliefs. S. WEIR
MITCHELL
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
3
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A
QUACK
At this present moment of time I am what the doctors call an
interesting case, and am to be found in bed No. 10, Ward 11,
Massachusetts General Hospital. I am told that I have what is called
Addison's disease, and that it is this pleasing malady which causes me to
be covered with large blotches of a dark mulatto tint. However, it is a
rather grim subject to joke about, because, if I believed the doctor who
comes around every day, and thumps me, and listens to my chest with as
much pleasure as if I were music all through--I say, if I really believed him,
I should suppose I was going to die. The fact is, I don't believe him at all.
Some of these days I shall take a turn and get about again; but meanwhile
it is rather dull for a stirring, active person like me to have to lie still and
watch myself getting big brown and yellow spots all over me, like a map
that has taken to growing.
The man on my right has consumption --smells of cod-liver oil, and
coughs all night. The man on my left is a down-easter with a liver which
has struck work; looks like a human pumpkin; and how he contrives to
whittle jackstraws all day, and eat as he does, I can't understand. I have
tried reading and tried whittling, but they don't either of them satisfy me,
so that yesterday I concluded to ask the doctor if he couldn't suggest some
other amusement.
I waited until he had gone through the ward, and then seized my
chance, and asked him to stop a moment.
``Well, my man,'' said he, ``what do you want!''
I thought him rather disrespectful, but I replied, ``Something to do,
doctor.''
He thought a little, and then said: ``I'll tell you what to do. I think if
you were to write out a plain account of your life it would be pretty well
worth reading. If half of what you told me last week be true, you must be
about as clever a scamp as there is to be met with. I suppose you would
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
4
just as lief put it on paper as talk it.''
``Pretty nearly,'' said I. ``I think I will try it, doctor.''
After he left I lay awhile thinking over the matter. I knew well that I
was what the world calls a scamp, and I knew also that I had got little
good out of the fact. If a man is what people call virtuous, and fails in life,
he gets credit at least for the virtue; but when a man is a--is--well, one of
liberal views, and breaks down, somehow or other people don't credit him
with even the intelligence he has put into the business. This I call hard. If I
did not recall with satisfaction the energy and skill with which I did my
work, I should be nothing but disgusted at the melancholy spectacle of my
failure. I suppose that I shall at least find occupation in reviewing all this,
and I think, therefore, for my own satisfaction, I shall try to amuse my
convalescence by writing a plain, straightforward account of the life I have
led, and the various devices by which I have sought to get my share of the
money of my countrymen. It does appear to me that I have had no end of
bad luck.
As no one will ever see these pages, I find it pleasant to recall for my
own satisfaction the fact that I am really a very remarkable man. I am, or
rather I was, very good-looking, five feet eleven, with a lot of curly red
hair, and blue eyes. I am left-handed, which is another unusual thing. My
hands have often been noticed. I get them from my mother, who was a
Fishbourne, and a lady. As for my father, he was rather common. He was a
little man, red and round like an apple, but very strong, for a reason I shall
come to presently. The family must have had a pious liking for Bible
names, because he was called Zebulon, my sister Peninnah, and I Ezra,
which is not a name for a gentleman. At one time I thought of changing it,
but I got over it by signing myself ``E. Sanderaft.''
Where my father was born I do not know, except that it was
somewhere in New Jersey, for I remember that he was once angry because
a man called him a Jersey Spaniard. I am not much concerned to write
about my people, because I soon got above their level; and as to my
mother, she died when I was an infant. I get my manners, which are rather
remarkable, from her.
My aunt, Rachel Sanderaft, who kept house for us, was a queer
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
5
character. She had a snug little property, about seven thousand dollars.
An old aunt left her the money because she was stone-deaf. As this defect
came upon her after she grew up, she still kept her voice. This woman was
the cause of some of my ill luck in life, and I hope she is uncomfortable,
wherever she is. I think with satisfaction that I helped to make her life
uneasy when I was young, and worse later on. She gave away to the idle
poor some of her small income, and hid the rest, like a magpie, in her
Bible or rolled in her stockings, or in even queerer places. The worst of
her was that she could tell what people said by looking at their lips; this I
hated. But as I grew and became intelligent, her ways of hiding her money
proved useful, to me at least. As to Peninnah, she was nothing special until
she suddenly bloomed out into a rather stout, pretty girl, took to ribbons,
and liked what she called ``keeping company.'' She ran errands for every
one, waited on my aunt, and thought I was a wonderful person--as indeed I
was. I never could understand her fondness for helping everybody. A
fellow has got himself to think about, and that is quite enough. I was told
pretty often that I was the most selfish boy alive. But, then, I am an
unusual person, and there are several names for things.
My father kept a small shop for the sale of legal stationery and the like,
on Fifth street north of Chestnut. But his chief interest in life lay in the
bell-ringing of Christ Church. He was leader, or No. 1, and the whole
business was in the hands of a kind of guild which is nearly as old as the
church. I used to hear more of it than I liked, because my father talked of
nothing else. But I do not mean to bore myself writing of bells. I heard too
much about ``back shake,'' ``raising in peal,'' ``scales,'' and ``touches,'' and
the Lord knows what.
My earliest remembrance is of sitting on my father's shoulder when he
led off the ringers. He was very strong, as I said, by reason of this exercise.
With one foot caught in a loop of leather nailed to the floor, he would
begin to pull No. 1, and by and by the whole peal would be swinging, and
he going up and down, to my joy; I used to feel as if it was I that was
making the great noise that rang out all over the town. My familiar
acquaintance with the old church and its lumber-rooms, where were stored
the dusty arms of William and Mary and George II., proved of use in my
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
6
later days.
My father had a strong belief in my talents, and I do not think he was
mistaken. As he was quite uneducated, he determined that I should not be.
He had saved enough to send me to Princeton College, and when I was
about fifteen I was set free from the public schools. I never liked them.
The last I was at was the high school. As I had to come down-town to get
home, we used to meet on Arch street the boys from the grammar-school
of the university, and there were fights every week. In winter these were
most frequent, because of the snow- balling. A fellow had to take his share
or be marked as a deserter. I never saw any personal good to be had out of
a fight, but it was better to fight than to be cobbed. That means that two
fellows hold you, and the other fellows kick you with their bent knees. It
hurts.
I find just here that I am describing a thing as if I were writing for
some other people to see. I may as well go on that way. After all, a man
never can quite stand off and look at himself as if he was the only person
concerned. He must have an audience, or make believe to have one, even
if it is only himself. Nor, on the whole, should I be unwilling, if it were
safe, to let people see how great ability may be defeated by the crankiness
of fortune.
I may add here that a stone inside of a snowball discourages the fellow
it hits. But neither our fellows nor the grammar-school used stones in
snowballs. I rather liked it. If we had a row in the springtime we all threw
stones, and here was one of those bits of stupid custom no man can
understand; because really a stone outside of a snowball is much more
serious than if it is mercifully padded with snow. I felt it to be a rise in life
when I got out of the society of the common boys who attended the high
school.
When I was there a man by the name of Dallas Bache was the head
master. He had a way of letting the boys attend to what he called the
character of the school. Once I had to lie to him about taking another boy's
ball. He told my class that I had denied the charge, and that he always took
it for granted that a boy spoke the truth. He knew well enough what would
happen. It did. After that I was careful.
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
7
Princeton was then a little college, not expensive, which was very
well, as my father had some difficulty to provide even the moderate
amount needed.
I soon found that if I was to associate with the upper set of young men
I needed money. For some time I waited in vain. But in my second year I
discovered a small gold-mine, on which I drew with a moderation which
shows even thus early the strength of my character.
I used to go home once a month for a Sunday visit, and on these
occasions I was often able to remove from my aunt's big Bible a five- or
ten-dollar note, which otherwise would have been long useless.
Now and then I utilized my opportunities at Princeton. I very much
desired certain things like well-made clothes, and for these I had to run in
debt to a tailor. When he wanted pay, and threatened to send the bill to my
father, I borrowed from two or three young Southerners; but at last, when
they became hard up, my aunt's uncounted hoard proved a last resource, or
some rare chance in a neighboring room helped me out. I never did look
on this method as of permanent usefulness, and it was only the temporary
folly of youth.
Whatever else the pirate necessity appropriated, I took no large
amount of education, although I was fond of reading, and especially of
novels, which are, I think, very instructive to the young, especially the
novels of Smollett and Fielding.
There is, however, little need to dwell on this part of my life. College
students in those days were only boys, and boys are very strange animals.
They have instincts. They somehow get to know if a fellow does not relate
facts as they took place. I like to put it that way, because, after all, the
mode of putting things is only one of the forms of self-defense, and is less
silly than the ordinary wriggling methods which boys employ, and which
are generally useless. I was rather given to telling large stories just for the
fun of it and, I think, told them well. But somehow I got the reputation of
not being strictly definite, and when it was meant to indicate this belief
they had an ill-mannered way of informing you. This consisted in two or
three fellows standing up and shuffling noisily with their feet on the floor.
When first I heard this I asked innocently what it meant, and was told it
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
8
was the noise of the bearers' feet coming to take away Ananias. This was
considered a fine joke.
During my junior year I became unpopular, and as I was very cautious,
I cannot see why. At last, being hard up, I got to be foolishly reckless. But
why dwell on the failures of immaturity?
The causes which led to my leaving Nassau Hall were not, after all, the
mischievous outbreaks in which college lads indulge. Indeed, I have never
been guilty of any of those pieces of wanton wickedness which injure the
feelings of others while they lead to no useful result. When I left to return
home, I set myself seriously to reflect upon the necessity of greater care in
following out my inclinations, and from that time forward I have steadily
avoided, whenever it was possible, the vulgar vice of directly possessing
myself of objects to which I could show no legal title. My father was
indignant at the results of my college career; and, according to my aunt,
his shame and sorrow had some effect in shortening his life. My sister
believed my account of the matter. It ended in my being used for a year as
an assistant in the shop, and in being taught to ring bells --a fine exercise,
but not proper work for a man of refinement. My father died while training
his bell-ringers in the Oxford triple bob--broke a blood-vessel
somewhere. How I could have caused that I do not see.
I was now about nineteen years old, and, as I remember, a middle-
sized, well-built young fellow, with large eyes, a slight mustache, and, I
have been told, with very good manners and a somewhat humorous turn.
Besides these advantages, my guardian held in trust for me about two
thousand dollars. After some consultation between us, it was resolved that
I should study medicine. This conclusion was reached nine years before
the Rebellion broke out, and after we had settled, for the sake of economy,
in Woodbury, New Jersey. From this time I saw very little of my deaf aunt
or of Peninnah. I was resolute to rise in the world, and not to be weighted
by relatives who were without my tastes and my manners.
I set out for Philadelphia, with many good counsels from my aunt and
guardian. I look back upon this period as a turning-point of my life. I had
seen enough of the world already to know that if you can succeed without
exciting suspicion, it is by far the pleasantest way; and I really believe that
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
9
if I had not been endowed with so fatal a liking for all the good things of
life I might have lived along as reputably as most men. This, however, is,
and always has been, my difficulty, and I suppose that I am not responsible
for the incidents to which it gave rise. Most men have some ties in life, but
I have said I had none which held me. Peninnah cried a good deal when
we parted, and this, I think, as I was still young, had a very good effect in
strengthening my resolution to do nothing which could get me into trouble.
The janitor of the college to which I went directed me to a boarding-house,
where I engaged a small third-story room, which I afterwards shared with
Mr. Chaucer of Georgia. He pronounced it, as I remember, ``Jawjah.''
In this very remarkable abode I spent the next two winters, and finally
graduated, along with two hundred more, at the close of my two years of
study. I should previously have been one year in a physician's office as a
student, but this regulation was very easily evaded. As to my studies, the
less said the better. I attended the quizzes, as they call them, pretty closely,
and, being of a quick and retentive memory, was thus enabled to dispense
with some of the six or seven lectures a day which duller men found it
necessary to follow.
Dissecting struck me as a rather nasty business for a gentleman, and on
this account I did just as little as was absolutely essential. In fact, if a man
took his tickets and paid the dissection fees, nobody troubled himself as to
whether or not he did any more than this. A like evil existed at the
graduation: whether you squeezed through or passed with credit was a
thing which was not made public, so that I had absolutely nothing to
stimulate my ambition. I am told that it is all very different to-day.
The astonishment with which I learned of my success was shared by
the numerous Southern gentlemen who darkened the floors and perfumed
with tobacco the rooms of our boarding-house. In my companions, during
the time of my studies so called, as in other matters of life, I was
somewhat unfortunate. All of them were Southern gentlemen, with more
money than I had. Many of them carried great sticks, usually sword-canes,
and some bowie-knives or pistols; also, they delighted in swallow-tailed
coats, long hair, broad-brimmed felt hats, and very tight boots. I often
think of these gentlemen with affectionate interest, and wonder how many
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A QUACK AND THE CASE OF GEORGE DEDLOW
10
are lying under the wheat-fields of Virginia. One could see them any day
sauntering along with their arms over their companions' shoulders,
splendidly indifferent to the ways of the people about them. They hated
the ``Nawth'' and cursed the Yankees, and honestly believed that the
leanest of them was a match for any half a dozen of the bulkiest of
Northerners. I must also do them the justice to say that they were quite as
ready to fight as to brag, which, by the way, is no meager statement. With
these gentry--for whom I retain a respect which filled me with regret at the
recent course of events--I spent a good deal of my large leisure. The more
studious of both sections called us a hard crowd. What we did, or how we
did it, little concerns me here, except that, owing to my esteem for
chivalric blood and breeding, I was led into many practices and excesses
which cost my guardian and myself a good deal of money. At the close of
my career as a student I found myself aged twenty-one years, and the
owner of some seven hundred dollars--the rest of my small estate having
disappeared variously within the last two years. After my friends had gone
to their homes in the South I began to look about me for an office, and
finally settled upon very good rooms in one of the down- town localities
of the Quaker City. I am not specific as to the number and street, for
reasons which may hereafter appear. I liked the situation on various
accounts. It had been occupied by a doctor; the terms were reasonable; and
it lay on the skirts of a good neighborhood, while below it lived a motley
population, among which I expected to get my first patients and such fees
as were to be had. Into this new home I moved my medical text-books, a
few bones, and myself. Also, I displayed in the window a fresh sign, upon
which was distinctly to be read:
DR. E. SANDERAFT. Office hours, 8 to 9 A.M.,
7 to 9 P.M.
I felt now that I had done my fair share toward attaining a virtuous
subsistence, and so I waited tranquilly, and without undue enthusiasm, to
see the rest of the world do its part in the matter. Meanwhile I read up on
all sorts of imaginable cases, stayed at home all through my office hours,
and at intervals explored the strange section of the town which lay to the
south of my office. I do not suppose there is anything like it else where.
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THEAUTOBIOGRAPHYOFAQUACKANDTHECASEOFGEORGEDEDLOW1THEAUTOBIOGRAPHYOFAQUACKANDTHECASEOFGEORGEDEDLOWBYS.WEIRMITCHELL,M.D.,LL.D.HARVARDANDEDINBURGHTHEAUTOBIOGRAPHYOFAQUACKANDTHECASEOFGEORGEDEDLOW2INTRODUCTIONBothofthetalesinthislittlevolumeappearedoriginallyinthe``AtlanticMonthly'asanonymouscontributio...
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