,ii#i»aisiiiii *»('<» 'ifir'f HW'iM'tih BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME FROM THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF 1S91 ..ilklMi Ujj/mi Cornell University Library R 154.D76M28 Memoirs of the life and services of Oani 3 1924 011 945 361 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924011945361 (^^t^Jt'-T^^ / '-V^f^TiO^MZD MEMOIKS OP THE LIFE AND SEEVICES OP DANIEL DKAKE, M.D., PHYSICIAN, PKOFESSOK, AND AUTHOR; WITH ^stki$ of t\t €Ktlu ^Mmint of ^mmmil AND SOME OF ITS PIONEER CITIZENS. Bt EDWARD D. MANSFIELD, LL.D., AUTHOR OF ''AMERICAN EDUCATION," ftc. Cincinnati: PUBLISHED BY APPLEGATE & CO., No. 43 Main Stkeet. 1855. A. i^^o-' D \ ,- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, Bt EDWARD D. MANSFIELD, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of Ohio. PREFACE. The volume now introduced to the public was prepared mainly as a labor of love, but not without thS hope of contributing some- thing to the common stock of information, and something to the common instruction, by setting forth the example of a man, who, possessing genius, virtue, and science, used them for the most worthy ends. The object of the memoirs was two-fold: first, to trace the career of Dr. Drake as a simple narrative of his life and services ; and, secondly, to connect with it a notice of such persons and events as were naturally associated with him. The reader will perceive that there is no labored attempt at style, or philosophical analysis, or portrait painting. These did not suit my plan, nor had I the taste or time for such work. I intended, and hope I have accom- plished, a plain narration of the works and character of an emi- nent man, with whom was connected an interesting portion of our history. Two or three omissions may possibly be observed, for which there are sufficient reasons. It may be seen that little or nothing is said of several heated medical controversies in which Dr. Drake was engaged. For this, it is sufficient to say, that the personal feeling excitted by them has passed away, and it would be an ill office to revive it. With Dr. Drake himself, they were passed into oblivion before his death, and his enemies, if any, remained forgiven. IV PKEFAOE. It may also be thought, that while I have mentioned several persons in the course of the narrative, I ought to have spoken of others. To this I reply, that I have noticed no one who did not come within the direct associations of the narrative. Had I done more of this, I must have written the history of the whole. Other omissions may be discovered, and doubtless defects which have been overlooked, and for all of them, I can only say, that I aimed to be faithful to my subject, to truth, and history. If I have fallen short, none will regret it more than I. In the preparation of the work, there were several sources of information which I shoula acknowledge. First. A large mass of private letters, part furnished me by the family of Dr. Drake, and a part in my own possession. Second. The testimony and conversation of several cotemporaries. Third. My own knowl- edge and observation, furnished by nearly thirty years of inti- mate friendship. Fourth. The works and writings of Dr. Drake. Fifth. The able and faithful discourse of Dr. Gross, from which I have drawn largely for professional testimony. Sixth. The cotemporary documents and history of the times. This large mass of material I have examined, analyzed, and extracted from, with as much of care and fidelity as I possessed. The work is done, and whatever may be the opinions of the public, I at least vrill be satisfied. I have performed what I thought a duty to my friends, and to the history of the times. To have done it, is a satisfaction, and I commit it unconcerned to the tribunal of Public Opinion. CHRONOLOGICAL DATA Doctor Drake was bom October 20, 1785. Ohio was settled April, 1787. Drake's father and family arrived at Maysyille, Ky May, 1787. Cincinnati was founded December, 1788. Dr. Drake arrived at Cincinnati 1800. " Is married December 20, 1807. " " Publishes "Notices of Cincinnati" 1809. " " " Picture of Cincinnati," 1815. " " Graduates at the University of Pennsylvania 1816. " " Elected Professorin Transylvania University 1817. " " Procures the Incorporation of Cincinnati College, Ohio Medical College, and the Commercial Hospital 1819. " " Is again elected Professor in Transylvania 1824. Mrs. Drake dies 1825. Dr. Drake returns to Cincinnati 1827. " " Founds the Eye Infirmary 1828. " " Publishes Treaties on Cholera 1832. " " Initiates the Cincinnati and Charleston Rail Koad 1835. " " Revives Cincinnati College 1835. " " Is elected Professor in the Louisville Medical Institute 1840. " " Is re-elected Professor in the Ohio Medical Col- lege 1850. " " Returns to Louisville 1851. " " Publishes his " Systematic Treatise on the Dis- eases of the Interior Valley" 1852. " " Is re-elected to Ohio Medical College 1852. " " Dies November, 1852. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. FASI. 1785— 1800— The Pioneers— Birth and Parentage of Daniel Drake — Rural Life among the Pioneers — Snow in the Woods — Indian Alarms — The Blue Licks — Corn-husking — Farmer's Boy — Coloring — Sheep-shearing — Carding — Spinning — School of Nature — School-house in the Woods — Autumn Changes — gchool-masters — Boys Learning — Rule of Three — Influence of Parents — Drake ends Schooling 11 CHAPTER II. 1800 — 1806 — Choice of a Profession — Goes to Cincinnati to Study Medicine — Cincinnati in 1800 — Sketch of Dr. Goforth, his Professor — His Medical Education — 'Enters upon the Prac- tice — Goes to Philadelphia to attend Lectures in the tTnlYersity —His Manner of Study— 'Returns to Cincinnati 44 CHAPTER III. 1806 — 1810 — Practices Medicine at Mayslick— Returns to Cin- cinnati — Society there — Debating Club — ^Marriage — Scientific Pursuits — Publishes HTotices of Cincinnati — Pictures of Cin- cinnati — Earthquakes 70 CHAPTER IV. 1810 to 1815— His sickness — ^Loses his Child — ^Religious Feel- ings — Medical Practice — War of 1812 — Surrender of Hull — Public Opinion — Death of his friend John Mansfield— Enters upon Commercial Business — ^Is Interested in the Lancaster Seminary — Publishes the Pictures of Cincinnati 89 vii Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. 1815— 1818— His Literary Difficulties— Method of Study and Writing — Goes a second time to the University of Pennsyl- vania — Wistar Parties — Graduates — Has an extensive Practice — Enters into Commercial Speculations — Is attacked with Dyspepsia — Mode of Treatment — Is appointed Professor in Lexington Medical School — Literary Labors — Resigns and returns to Cincinnati 109 CHAPTER VI. 1818 — 1892— Cincinnati in 1818— Foundation of its Literary Institutions — Commencement of its Steamboat Trade and Iron Manufactures — Judge Burnet — Martin Baum — Ethan Stone — Dr. Drake founds the Medical College and Hospital — His Controversies — Is Dismissed from the College, and Contemplates Removal 130 CHAPTER VII. 1822 — 1825 — Dr. Drake accepts a Professorship in Transyl- vania University — Its Condition and Prospects — Its Profes- sors — Dr. Drake's Success — Downfall of the Literary Depart- ment — Mr. HoUey — Politics of the Day — Dr. Drake supports Mr. Clay for the Presidency — Writes "76" Letter on Clay's Vote — ^Interview at Lebanon with Clay and Clinton — Charac- teristics of Clay, Clinton, Adams, and Calhoun — Dr. Drake Journeys in the Miami Valley — Death of Mrs. Drake — Anni- versary Hymn to her Memory 155 CHAPTER VIII. Dr. Drake returns to Lexington — Condition of the School — His Practice — Resigns — Establishes the Western Journal of Medi- cal Sciences — History of Medical Journals — Establishes the Eye Infirmary — Announces his Work on the Diseases of the Interior Valley — ^Views of Medical Education — Review of the "People's Doctors " — Lectures on Temperance— Incidents — Medical Jurisprudence — Case of John Birdsall 182 CONTENTS. IX CHAPTER IX. pAax, 1831 — 1834 — Dr. Drake accepts a Professorship in the Jeffer- son School, Philadelphia — Forms the plan of anothor Medical School at Cincinnati — Medical Department of Miami Univer- sity — Cholera — Dr. Drake's Views — Its appearance at Cincin- nati — Tables of the Cholera at Cincinnati — Its Characteristics — Is Cholera Morbus Epidemic ? 305 CHAPTER X. 1833 — 1835 — ^Vine Street Reunions — Literary Society of Cincin- nati — Distinguished Persons — Social Influence on Literature — Buckeye fimblems — College of Teachers — Leading Charac- ters — Grimke — Kinmont — Albert Pickett — Joshua L. W ilson — Perkins — Dr. Drake on Discipline — On Anatomy and Physio- logy — On Emulation — On the Powers of Government in rela- tion to Schools 323 CHAPER XI. Dr. Drake's Services for Internal Improvement — ^His "Views of Ohio Canaling in the " Picture of Cincinnati " — Takes the Initial in the Cincinnati and Charleston Railway — Meeting at the Exchange — Article in the Western Monthly Magazine^ Population and Business of Cincinnati in 1836 — Cincinnati Committee of Internal Improvemenlr-'Knoxville Convention — Traveling on the Tennessee River— Dr. Drake on Traveling — Colonel Blanding — General Hayne — Public Citizens of Cin- cinnati 247 CHAPTER XII. • Attempted Reform of the Ohio Medical College — Revival of Cincinnati College — Reorganization — Medical Faculty — Law Faculty — College Faculty — Progress of the Institution — Dr. Drake as a Lecturer and Teacher — Dissolution of the Medical Department — Cincinnati Chronicle — Faculty of the Arts in Cincinnati College— Charles L. Telford, Esq.— Benjamin Drake, Esq. — His Death and Character — Western Monthly Review — Judge Hall— Hiram Powers 270 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIII. PACE. 1840— 1850— Plan of Dr. Drake's Work on the Diseases of the Interior Valley of Worth America — His successive Journeys — ^His Methods of Treatment — ^Analysis of the Work — Topo- graphical and Meteorological Description — Social Habits — Diseases 309 CHAPTER XIV. 1840— 1850— Meeting of the Pioneers— Dr. Drake on the Buck- eye Emblem — Discussion of Problems — Milk-Sickness — Mes- meric Somniloquism — Condition of the Africans in the United States — Northern Lakes and Southern Invalids — Unpublished Poetry — Extracts from the Systematic Descrip- tion of the Diseases of the Interior Valley 322 CHAPTER XV. Reminisccntial Letters of Dr. Drake to his Children — His Ances- tors — His Childhood — Journey to Kentucky — Memories of Ma- son County — The first Log-cabin — The Indians — Want of Bread — ^Indian Attack — ^First School-house — ^Incidents in Pioneer Life 35 6 CHAPTER XVI. Dr. Drake's Religious Life — Religious Writings — Character — Professional Objects — ^Family — Last sickness — Death 388 THE LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DRAKE. CHAPTER I. 1785^1800— The Pioneers— Birth and Parentage of Daniel Drake — Bural Life among the Pioneers — Snow in the Woods —Indian Alarms — -The Blue Licks — Co^n-husking — Farmer's Boy — Coloring — Sheep-shearing — Carding — Spinning — School of Nature — School-house in the Woods — Autumn Changes — School-masters — Boys Learning — Rule of Three — Influence of Parents — Drake ends Schooling. The settlement of the Ohio Valley was attended by many circumstances which gave it peculiar interest. Its beginning was the first fruit of the Eevolution. Its growth has been more rapid than that of any modern colony. In a period of little more than half a century, its strength and magnitude exceed the limits of many distinguished nations. Such results have not been produced without efficient causes. It is not enough to account for them by referring to a mild climate, fertile soil, flowing rivers, or even good government. These are important. But a more direct one is found in the character and labors of its early citizens ; for in Man, at last, consists the life and glory of every State. This is strikingly true of the States and Institutions which have gone up on the banks of the Ohio. The first settlers had no such doubtfdl origin as the fabled II 12 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DEAKE. Eomulus, and imbibed no such savage spirit as he received from the sucklings of a wolf. They were civilized — derived from a race historically bold and energetic — had generally received an elementary, and in some instances a superior, education ; and were bred to free thoughts and brave actions in the great and memorable school of the American Revolution. If not actors, they were the children of those who were actors in its dangers and sufferings. These settlers came to a country magnificent in extent, and opulent in all the wealth of nature. But it was nature in her rugged- ness. All was wild and savage. The wilderness before them presented only a field of battle or of labor. The Indian must be subdued, the mighty forest leveled, the soil in its wide extent upturned, and from every quarter of the globe must be transplanted the seeds, the plants, and all the contrivances of life, which, in other lands, had required ages to obtain. In the midst of these physical necessities, and of that progress which consists in conquest and culture, there were other and higher works to be performed. Social institutions must be founded : laWs must be adapted to the new society ; schools established, churches built up, science cultivated, and, as the structure of the State arose upon these solid columns, it must receive the finish of the fine arts, and the polish of letters. The largest part of this mighty fabric was the work of the first settlers on the Ohio — a work accomplished within the period of time allotted by Providence to the life of man. If, in after ages, history shall seek a suitable acknowledgment of their merits, it will be found in the simple record, that their characters and labors were equal to the task they had to perform. Their's was a noble work, nobly done. THE PIONEERS. 13 It is true, that the lives of, these men were attended by all the common motives and common passions of human nature ; but these motives and passions were ennobled by the greatness of the result; and even com- mon pursuits rendered interesting, by the air of wildness and adventure which is found in all the paths of the pioneer. There were among them, too, men of great strength of intellect, of acute powers, and of a fresh- ness and originality of genius, which we seek in vain among the members of conventional society. These men were as varied in their characters and pursuits as the parts they had to perform in the great action before them. Some were soldiers in the long battle against the Indians; some were huntsmen, like BooNE and Kenton, thirsting for forest adventures; some were plain farmers, who came with wives and children, sharing fully in their toils and dangers ; some lawyers and jurists, who early participated in council and legislation; and with them all, the doctor, the clergyman, and even the school-master, was found in the earliest settlements. In a few years, others came, whose names will long be remembered in any true account, (if any such shall ever be written,) of the science and literature of America. They gave to the strong but rude body of society here its earliest culture, in a higher knowledge and purer spirit. Of this class was DocTOE Deake. He saw the gloom and solitude of the wilderness in early youth; but saw them disap- pear in the warmlii of advancing society, before age had dimmed his sight. He was one of the builders of that society, but while of it in all its labors, duties, and sympathies, was above it, in the brilliancy of his genius, and the- extent of his views. To trace his life, 14 LIFE OP DB. DANIEL DEAKE. is to trace, in no small degree, the growth and outline of the community in which he lived. I have under- taken it, therefore, as a contribution to the history of the living times, not less than a memorial to worth and friendship which well deserved my utmost tribute. With much of his actual life I was familiar ; of more, I heard ; and of all, I have the testimony of the living and the dead. If the portrait I draw be not complete or just, it will fail from no want of material or distinct- ness of feature ; but only because the mind, which was willing, and the hand which undertook, were unequal to their task. Daniel Dbake was bom at Plainfield, Essex County, New Jersey, October 20, 1786. The rural districts of New Jersey were then, as now, settled by a people plain, simple-minded, and intelligent — generally pious, always patriotic, and never very rich. They had the advantage of an early ministry of the most devoted and self-deny- ing clergy ; and the equal advantage, in a political sense, of being within the sight and hearing of those great events of the Revolution, which are now stereotyped in the history of constitutional freedom. Amidst such a people, and partaking fully of their characteristics, were the parents of Dr. Drake reared. I knew them in their declining years, when they still exhibited the same features of piety, simplicity, kindness, and patri- otism. They left New Jersey, when their son was two and a half years old, just when this State was first set- tled, at Marietta, and before a solitafy cabin had risen on the site of Cincinnati. The life of Dr. Drake in the west covered, therefore, the period from 1788 to 1853, which includes the whole history of Ohio, and the whole growth of Cincinnati. Much of that history and growth PABEHTAGE OF DANIEL DEAKE. 15 18 intimately connected with his own, and while we pursue the path of an individual, we shall be insensi- bly led to contemplate the progress of a great com- munity. The colony to which Mr. Drake the elder was attached, made their settlement at Mayslick, (Kentucky,) twelve miles southwest of the present Maysville, They settled in the midst of the forest, and their first occupation was that of all the pioneers — ^to cut down the trees, to fence the fields, and to plant and cultivate the soil. This had to be dene amidst dangers, both from men and beasts, for it was yet six years before Wayne's victory restored peace to the west, and Kentucky was yet the battle-ground of the Indian tribes. No evil from that quarter, however, befell them. They pursued their rural occupation in a hard but peaceful life. Mr. Drake was poor, and when he landed at Maysville had but one dollar left — which was then the price of a bushel of corn. The first residence of the family was in a " covered pen," built for sheep, on the ground of its owner. The smallness of his estate may be gathered from the fact, that when a company of emigrants — ^^five fami- lies — purchased a tract of fourteen hundred acres of land, to be divided between them, accordiiag to their respective payments, his share was only thirty-eight acres, which he subsequently increased to fifty. There he resided six years, till in the autumn of 1794, he purchased another farm of two hundred acres, to the neighborhood of which he removed. The new farm was an unbroken forest which had to be cleared, and the log cabin built. Daniel Drake was then nine years old. His father being too poor to hire a laborer, and not strong of body, the young boy was put to work, and for the next six years was constantly 16 LIFE OP DE. DAUIEL DEAKE. employed in the various labors of that rugged rural life. The fifteen years from his birth at Plainfield to his re- moval to Cincinnati, was, as it is in all persons, the form- ing period of his mind; the period, not so much of information, which is then scarcely begun, but of im- pressions, natural, social, and moral. These impressions are early received, but are durable and powerful, cling- ing to the structure of the mind, with inseparable fibers, and associated with scenes never to be forgotten. With him, they produced an effect upon his character very unusual, and indeed extraordinary. He looked upon all the elements and incidents of his early life in the the woods, with the fancy of a painter, and the emotions of a poet. They were imbedded in his very being, and graved upon his soul forever. Hence, it is necessary I should trace this part of his life with distinctness, in or- der to exhibit the early training and tendencies which gave direction and strength, in after years, to the bent of his genius, and the fervor of his enthusiasm. His early education was in the forest, amidst the un- changed elements of nature, the simplicity of inartificial society, and the labors of a husbandman. He was lite- rally a farmer's boy, performing the simplest and rudest duties of that vocation. So strongly and so poetically did it impress itself upon him, that at the distance of half a century, (in 1845,) he described them most minutely and beautifully in letters to his children. Some passages from these letters will best illustrate not merely his life, but the poetic vein which ran through his nature, and the graphic powers of description which he possessed as a writer. About this period, when he was nine years old, his father had removed to the new farm where everything was new, EUEAL LIFE AMONG THE PIONEEES. 17 and everything had to be done. He thus describes this cabin-farm, and some of its incidents.* " Father's cabin stood on a side hill, and was not underpinned. The lower end was three feet from the ground, and here was the win- ter shelter of the sheep, furnishing security from both wolves and weather ; still, although there was protection from rain and snow, the cold wind was not excluded, and it often became necessary to bring the young lambs into the cabin above, and let them spend the night near the fire. The exercise of this kind of oflSce towards the young and suffering innocents was, perhaps, one cause of my repug- nance to eating their flesh for many years afterwards. Sometimes they would leave their dams, and then it would become necessary to feed them on cow's milk ; a labor which generally fell to me, and I used to hold their mouths in the buckeye bowl, till they learned how to drink. " In the latter part of winter we were often short of fod- der for our stock, and had to resort to the woods for both cattle and horses to hrowse. Of the whole forest, the red and slippery elms were the best — next to these, the white elm, and then the pig-nut, or white hickory. It was then that I first observed that the buds of these and other trees grow and swell during the winter, a fact which interested me much, and ten years afterwards, (when he was nine- teen,) when Darwin's Botanic Garden fell into my hands, I took the deepest interest in that part of the poem, which is entitled ' economy of vegetation.' Two lines, which now come to my recollection, seemed to me the very soul of poetry. They are — " ' Where dwell my vegetable realms benumbed, In buds imprisoned, or in bulbs entombed.' " * Letter from Louisville, December 31, 1847. 2 18 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. Simple as this reminiscence is in its details, we find in it an outline of his leading characteristics. Here ife the closeness of observation so unusual in boys, the humane tenderness manifested towards the lambs, the attention to natural phenomena, and the patient labor ; all of which were strongly developed in his after life. Even the buck- eye bowl, a prominent object in the scene, at once reminds one of a recent and active period of his life, when the buckeye was his favorite emblem, and the buckeye bowl upon his table. He continues, describing himself and impressions of a winter scene in the woods : " To my cow boy labors, when twelve or thirteen years of age, for hours together in the woods around our little field, in the month of February, I ascribe, in part, my admiration of that poem (Darwin's). It still awakes in me delightful romantic recollections of that distant period. My equipments were a substantial suit of butternut linsey, a wool hat, a pair of mittens, and a pair of old stocking- legs, drawn down like gaiters over my shoes, to keep out the snow, which was quite as deep in those days as in latter times, and a great deal prettier. (Do not smile till you hear me out.) I do not mean that the separate flakes were more beautiful then than at present, but that a snow was, in the woods of those days, far more pictu- resque than a snow in or around a town as we see it now. " The woods immediately beyond our field were unmu- tilated, and not thinned out, as you see them at present. They were in fact as nature received them from the hand of her creator. When a snow had fallen without wind, the upper surface of every bough bent gracefully under its weight and contrasted beautifully with the dark and rugged bark beneath ; the half decayed logs had their SNOW IN THE WOODS. 19 deformities covered : the ground was overflowed with a pure and white covering. The cane as high as my head and shoulders, with its long green leaves, made the alto relievo of the snowy carpet ; the winter grapes hung in what then seemed rich clusters from the limbs of many trees ; which were decorated with tufts of green misletoe, embellished with berries, as white as pearl; while the celastrous scandens, a climbing vine, hung out from others its bunches of orange red berries ; and the Indian arrow \rood below, displayed its scarlet seeds suspended by threads of the same color. With axes on our shoulders, father and I (sometimes one only,) were often seen driving the cattle before us to the nearest woods ; and when the first tree fell the browsing com- menced. As the slippery elm was soft and mucila- ginous, twigs of considerable size were eaten, and the bark of larger ones stripped. Other trees being chopped down, we occupied ourselves, more or less, in cutting wood for fuel and timber for rails. But the time required for browsing was not always devoted to work, for the tracks of coons had attractions especially for myself and old Lyon, and I often had opportunities for gratifying the instinct of both man and dog for hunting." Who, that has ever been a boy in the woods of Ohio, does not recognize the accuracy of this picture ? This por- trait he drew at the distance of half a century, with all the skill of such an experience, but the colors were drawn from the memories of boyhood. He was entirely right in attributing to his " cow boy labors," as he called them, not only his admiration for Darwin, but his enthusiastic love of nature. This picture of his boyhood, in the wilds of Kentucky, was a fairy vesture, which, in after life, seemed thrown round every natural object. I 20 LIFE OF DE, DANIBL DEAKE. have traveled by his side in the valley of the Miamies, on the ridges of Kentucky, and the mountains of Tennes- see ; and marked with surprise how each tree seemed familiar to him, how he watched every scene, how he described them with the knowledge of a naturalist, and invested them with the coloring of a poet. It is evident from all this, that he was naturally gifted with remarkably keen powers of observation, accom- panied by a poetic temperament. These were manifested during his whole life. Unrealizing, perhaps, his own natural gifts in this way, he often attributed them to a country life. But they were really gifts. It is in vain to seek them among common country boys. They may see and enjoy all these things; but their souls do not take them in and make them, as he did, a part of their very being. Thousands of country boys hear the music of the woods, and look upon their changing clouds, and share in the rural employments, and think not of them. But this forest boy made them his own ; he was not their subject so much as they his ; they were the attendant spirits of his dreams, and in many an after year he bore them aloft in the soaring flights of imagination. Alone, amidst outspreading trees, we see this boy watching the gambols of a squirrel, wondering at the buds swelling in winter, delighted with the graceful garments with which the snow has clothed the trees, lis- tening to the wild notes of birds, or the tinkling bell of cows, or the notes of the rising wind. " The birds," he afterwards said, " made a symphony to the winds as they played upon the green leaves, and wakened melody as when the rays of the sun fell upon the Harp of Mem- non, but more real and better for the young heart." At this time he was from ten to fifteen years of age. THE BLUE LICKS. 21 In his tenth year, the treaty of Greenville was made, sub- sequent to Wayne's victory, which restored peace with the Indians, and was the real termination of the Revo- lutionary era. His father had settled very near what is known in tradition as " dark and bloody ground ; " the field of the Blue Licks being but a few miles from his residence. The battle-ground, however, had been re- moved from Kentucky to Ohio; and the family, as I have said, escaped any actual suffering from the In- dians. The wars — the bloody encounters— the midnight alarms, and all the wild stories of border life, were still the topics of conversation ; and actual danger was still near. Speaking of this period, he says : " Up to the victory of Wayne, in 1791, the danger from Indians still continued — that is, till a period of six years from the time of our arrival. I well remember the Indian wars ; midnight butcheries, captivities and horse stealings were the daily topics of conversation. Volunteering to pursue marauding parties occasionally took place, and sometimes men were drafted. This happened once to father ; whether it was for Harmar's campaign, in 1790, or St. Clair's, in 1791, 1 cannot say; but he hired an unmar- ried man as a substitute, and did not go. At that time, as at present, there were many young men who delighted in war much more than in work, and therefore, preferred the tomahawk to the axe. I remember that when the substitute returned, he had many wonderful tales to re- late, but I am unable to rehearse them." * He states one fact, which occurred when he was five years old, worth recording in the annals of female heroism ; and similar to which, illustrating the character of the times, many have been handed down in tradition. "About « Letter, December 17, 1847. 22 LIFK OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. the same period, (1790,) the Indians one night attacked a body of travelers, encamped a mile from our village on the road to Washington. They were sitting quietly around their camp fires, when the Indians shot among them and killed a man, whose remains I remember to have seen brought the next day into the village, on a litter. The heroic presence of mind of a woman saved the party. She broke open a chest in one of the wagons with an axe, got at the ammunition, gave it to the men, and called upon them to fight. This, with the extinc- tion of their camp fires, led the Indians to retreat. That night made an unfading impression on my mind. We went with Uncle Abraham Drake's family, I think, to Uncle Cornelius', for concentiation and greater safety. Several of the men of the village went to the relief of the travelers, and one of them, a young married man, ran into the village and left his wife behind him. The alarm of my mother and aunts, communicated, of course, to all the children, was deep, and the remembrance of the scene was long kept vividly alive by talking it over and over." From ten to fifteen, he was old enough to take part in the cultivation of corn ; and nothing can be more enthu- siastic and graphic than the descriptions he has given of the various processes in that culture ; but I must forego these descriptions, to give his account of a corn- Tiushing, which illustrates strongly the manners and morals of the times. It corresponds very well with some similar accounts given by Doddridge, of Western Vir- ginia, and may serve to console us with the reflection, that the passions and vices of men are exhibited as much in the simplest as in the most luxurious forms of society. After commenting on the antithesis of style THE COEN-HUSKING. 23 which he admired in Johnson's Kambler, he says : " But, I must pass on to the antagonisms of the corn-husking. When the crop was drawn in, the ears were heaped into a long pile, or rick, a night fixed upon, and the neigh- bors notified, rather than invited, for it was an affair of mutual assistance. As they assembled at night-fall, the green glass quart whisky bottle, stopped with a cob, was handed to every one, man and boy, as they arrived, to take a drink. A suflBcient number to constitute a sort of quorum having an-ived, two men, or more commonly two boys, constituted themselves, or were by acclamation de- clared captains. They paced the rick, and estimated its contractions and expansions with the eye, till they were able to fix the spot on which the end of the dividing rail should be. The choice depended on the tossing of a chip, one side of which had been spit upon. The first choice of men was decided in the same way, and in a few minutes the rick was charged upon by the rival forces. As others arrived, as soon as the owner had given each the bottle, he fell in according to the end he belonged to. The captains planted themselves on each side of the rail, sustained by their most active operatives. Here, at the beginning, was the great contest, for it was lawful to cause the rail to slide or fall towards your own end, shortening it, and lengthening the other. Before I was twelve years old, I had stood many times near the rail, either as captain or private ; and, although fifty years have rolled away, I have never seen a more anxious rivalry, nor a fiercer struggle. It was here I first learned that competition is the mother of cheating, falsehood, and broils. Corn might be thrown over unhusked, the rail might be pulled towards you, by the hand dextrously applied underneath ; your feet might push corn to the 24 LIFE OF DE. DAinEL DEAZE. other side of the rail ; your hnsked corn might be thrown 60 short a distance as to bury up the projecting base of the pile on the other side. If charged with any of those tricks, you, of course, denied it, and there the matter sometimes rested; at other times, the charge was re- affirmed ; then rebutted with " you lie," &c., and then a fight at the moment, or at the end, settled the question of veracity. The heap cut in two — the parties turn their backs upon one another, and, making their hands keep time with a peculiar sort of tune, the chorus of voices in a still night might be heard a mile. The oft replen- ished whisky bottle meanwhile circulated freely, and at the close the victorious captain, mounted on the shoul- ders of some of the stoutest men, with the bottle in one hand and his hat in the other, was carried in triumph around the vanquished party, amidst the shouts of victory which rent the air. Then came the supper, in which the women had been busily employed, and which always included a pot pie. Either before or after eating, the fighting took place; and, by midnight, the sober were found assisting the drunken home. Such was one of my autumnal schools, from the age of nine to fifteen years." This graphic sketch of his boyish experience at a corn- husking, certainly will not lessen the high estimate formed of our progress in society, as well as art. Even the frontiers of our country, will, at this day, scarcely produce scenes of greater rudeness in manners, or vicious tendency in customs. The whisky bottle and the fight were a part of pioneer life ; and it was only in a later generation, that either whisky or brandy disappeared from the tables of refined gentlemen. Dr. Drake, thirty years afterwards, became one of the pioneers of temper- ance i^ Ohio, and we shall hereafter see with what zeal A EIDE TO THE MILL. 25 he pursued the subject. At no time — either in this, his boyhood, or in after life — did he yield even to the form of the popular custom of drinking; but was always not merely temperate, but abstemious. I have already said that much of his enthusiastic ad- miration of nature, and his tastes, were formed in this simple farmer life, in the forest and its wilds. I may add, that some of the strongest of his scientific tendencies were acquired in the same way. He recognized this himself, and in the following description of a ride to the mill — one of a country boy's frequent duties — he has delineated the formation of such tastes and habits. " The distant water-mill of which I have spoken, was two miles above the Blue Licks, so noted in latter years as a watering place. It was then famous for salt. Eight hundred gallons of water had to be boiled down to obtain a bushel. Father's mode of paying for it was by taking corn or hay ; for the region round about produced neither. It was my privilege first to accompany him when I was about eleven years old. By that time, he had got a small meadow. He took as much hay as two horses could draw, and, after traversing a rugged and hilly road, bartered it for a bushel of salt. The trip was instructive and deeply interesting. We passed through a zone of oak- land, and when three miles from the springs, we came to an open country, the surface of which presented nothing but moss-covered rocks, interspersed with red cedar. Not a single house, or any work of art, broke the solemn grandeur of the scene ; and the impression it made was indelible. I here first observed the connection between rocks and evergreens, and have never seen it since with- out r<3curring to this first and wildest sight, even now a bright vision of the mind. There I had seen three varie- 3 26 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. ties of the earth's surface, and three modifications of its natural productiodS. I had tasted the salt-water, seen the rude evaporating furnaces, and smelt the salt and sul- phurous vapor which arose in columns from them. I had learned that immense herds of buffalo had, before the settlement of the country, frequented this spot, destroyed the shrubs and herbage around, trodden up the ground, and prepared it for being washed away by the rain, till tiie rocks were left bare. Finally, I was told that around the Licks, sunk in the mud, there had been found the bones of animals much larger than the buffalo, or any then known in the country. Thus my knowledge of zoology was extended, and I received a first lesson in geology. I knew more than I had done, and could tell my mother and sister of strange sights which they had never seen. These sights and others, which I now and then saw, gave, I believe, a decided impulse to the love of nature implanted in the heart of every child ; and to them, I ascribe, in part, that taste, which, at the age of sixty, rendered my travels for professional inquiry into new regions of the diversified and boundless West, a feast of which I never cloyed." Perhaps no passage from actual life will show moie clearly than this, the influence of scenery and early asso- ciations, on the tastes and character of the mind. His poetic temperament easily received and long retained the impressions of marked features in nature, especially of the wild and beautiful. In the same manner the first perceived facts and elements of natural science struck his imagination forcibly, and gave a bent to his genius. Natural science was ever after one of his leading pur- suits ; and here, at the Blue Licks, in his twelfth year, he is first surprised by these fossil remains of extinct THE FAEMER's EOT. 27 mammoths, which directed his thoughts towards the antiquities of the West. Though he was much occupied with the out-door pur- suits of the farmer's boy, he had yet much to do inside the house. Till he arrived at fifteen years of age, his mother had no hired help, except in sickness. Kentucky was a slave State, yet his father never owned a slave, partly because he could not afibrd it, but more because he had an invincible repugnance to it. He would not have accepted a negro as a gift, and been obliged to keep him as a slave. He sometimes hired one, but always gave the negro something for himself. As a consequence of not owning slaves, Mrs. Drake, Daniel's mother, was frequently without any "help" in her household aifairs ; and as Daniel had reached his twelfth year, a strong boy, he became his mother's chief assistant. Nor was he an unwilling one ; for it aflbrded the largest part of that narrow circle of amusements, which were to be found on a farm in the back woods. These domestic employments were various ; there was the gathering and assisting in cooking the "truck," or garden-stufi" for the dinner ; there was butter-making, cheese-making, soap- making, hog-killing, and a multitude of little employ- ments belonging both to house and field, in which Daniel was the help, the laborer, and the prime minister of both father and mother. Judging from his reminis-. cences of this portion of his life, he must have been a parallel to Giles, in Bloomfield's Farmer Boy, of whom it was said — " There never lacked a job for Giles to do." Of one of the arts practiced then in country houses, he gives a description which I must repeat; because it seems almost a lost art, and because it is a part of the history 28 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. of society, a chapter in its progress. He says,* "when I look back upon the useful arts which mother and I were accustomed to practice, I am almost surprised at their number and variety. I did not then regard them as anything but incidents of poverty and ignorance. I now view them as knowledge, or elements of mental growth. Among them was coloring. A standing dye stufl" was the inner bark of the white walnut, from which we obtained that peculiar and permanent shade of dull yellow, the 'butternut,' so common in those days. The hulls of the '•'black'' walnut gave us a rusty black. Oak bark, with copperas, for a mordant, (when father had money to purchase it,) afforded a better tint of the same kind, and supplied the ink with which I learned to write. Indigo, which cost eighteen pence an ounce, was used for bine ; and madder, when we could obtain it at three shil- lings a pound, brought out a dirty red. In all these pro- cesses I was once almost an adept. As cotton was not then in use, in this country, or in Europe, and flax can with difficulty be colored, our material was generally wool, or linsey woolsey, and this brings me once more to the flock." This paragraph, describing the domestic life in one part of Daniel Drake in boyhood, proves and illustrates one of the great revolutions in modem society ; one perhaps ae important to human industry and material comfort as any other. It indicates the period when cotton and cotton-cloth was comparatively unknown in Europe and America. The consequence was, that the coarse and cheap woolens were the principal cloth used by all but the rich classes. Most of this was, in this country, made in fami- * ReminJBoential Letters. SPINNING. 29 lies. It was strictly a domestic maimfacture. Hence coloring, chiefly of the wool and yarn, came so much into requisition. For this the barks of trees, and the roots of some plants, were used. But between that period and this, in these particulars, there is a great gulf. The clothing of the poorer classes is revolutioned. Woolen is indeed used, and coloring is, in remote places, still a do- mestic art. But not so for the million. Cotton is now an enormous crop — a staple article of commerce. Cotton- cloths are colored by machinery, and the dye stufiFs, for domestic coloring, are purchased at the druggists. Dr. Drake's life spanned the whole of this great social revo- lution, and it is one of the particulars in which it was peculiar, a living record of eventful changes. Another avocation, a common one in country life, was sheep-shearing and washing. " But upon this," he says, " I looked back upon with little satisfaction. It was diffi- cult and tiresome. But to the carding," he says, " 1 lent a more cheerful helping hand, and could roll as many good rolls, in a given time^ as any gal of the neighborhood. Mother generally did the spinning, but the doubling and twisting was a work in which I took real pleasure. The buzz of the big wheel running, (as I walked backwards, and turned the rim with increased velocity,) from the lowest to the highest note of the octave, still seems like music in my ears. To this process succeeds the reeling into skeins ; and at a future time the winding of a part of these into balls for stockings. In the last operation, I got my first lesson of patience under perplexity. When a tangled skein fell into my hand, fretfulness and impa- tience were utterly at war with progress. Alas ! how long it takes us to become submissive to simple teachings. In the long and checkered life through which I have passed 30 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. since those days, how many tangled skeins have fallen into my hands, and how often have I forgotten the pa- tience which my dear mother then inculcated upon me I Human life itself is hut one long and large tangled skein, and in untwisting one thread we too often involve some others fatally. Death at last untangles all. To the e^'e of common observation, the spacious firmament appears not 'less a tangled than a shining frame; and yet Newton, hy patieTice, as he himself declared, reduced (for the human mind) the whole to order." I have now given, chiefly in his own words, a descrip- tion of the occupations which filled the boyhood of Daniel Drake; the primitive society in which he was brought up, the scenery which surrounded him, and the vivid impressions which his ardent and poetic temperament received from these external circumstances. But if we were to trace the springs of human action up to their source ; if we would seek the mold, as it were, in which any individual mind has been shaped to its course, if we would learn how the characters of those, in whom we are most interested, were vested with those special traits of feeling, inclination, sympathy, and intelligence, by which they are known to us, we must go yet more into the mystery of their growth. We must know how these exterior circumstances were received by that mind ; how they were thought of, and what specific impulses they gave it. In most persons, this is impossible, even if they had recorded, and were willing to relate the minute events of their early lives. For whoever considers this matter, in the workings of his own mind, will perceive at once, that it requires a superior culture to understand its own workings. In an ignorant, or dull mind, strong memory might recall all the incidents of earliest youth, THE SCHOOL OF NATUEB. 31 and present a partial daguerreotype of that youth ; yet for' want of internal consciousness and intellectual sensi- bility, the workings and effects of these incidents and events would never be known. In the youth of Dr. Drake, however, there was all the consciousness, all the sensibilities, and the poetic imagination, necessary to give the bodied memory of early events, life and light. Then there was, in after times, the culture which enabled him, in the language of his profession, to give the physiology of his own spirit. This he has done in the autobiographical letters I have quoted, and I can present no clearer view of his character, and the work- ings of his mind, in its forming stage, than by pursuing his own account of his early education. This education may, in him, as in most other persons, be considered in the three aspects of the teachings of nature in the surround- ing world, of intellectual instruction, and of moral impressions. The education of nature is generally left out of the account, but how great a teacher is nature, even in her rudest forms, all minds of acute perceptions and sensibilities most keenly know. They know how long the memory of even a faint snow-flake, or a beauti- ful flower, or a passing cloud, or a singing-bird, has revived the remembrance of what others considered of great importance, and how the impression of natural objects made deep furrows in the soul. So it was with Daniel Drake, he has gi-jen us an account of the man- ner in which he was effected by this education of nature. The general effect of, what he called weU, " the school of the woods," on his character may be understood Irom a paragraph on the autumn, written after he was sixty years of age, but giving evidently the impressions they made. 32 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. " While yet unmutilated by the rude and powerful arm of the pioneer, the woods are a great school of beauty. There is a stern beauty in leafless winter, when, after a cold rain, the limbs and twigs are transformed into in- verted icicles, on which the light of the cold bright sun plays in dazzling splendor. There is a soft and swelling beauty in spring, when the tender leaves of every tree, and the rival blossoms of the buckeye, dogwood, red-bud, crab-apple and locust, unite in speaking to our hearts, that the dominion of winter is at an end. There is a ripe, aormatic, and welcome beauty in sum- mer, when the sun, once more a fountain of heat as well as light, has given breadth of form and depth of green, and erected the woods into one vast temple, whose col- umns are the trees, whose covering is a leafy firmament. In autumn there is a solemn and meditative beauty, when the canopy of foliage, — (like that tenant of the deep, which laid upon the sands of the shore, radiates all the colors of the rainbow, and then expires,) — puts on every hue and begins to fall. In this affecting dis- play of mingled tints, (which has no equal in nature, save that sometimes made in the clouds for a moment by the setting sun,) a living green still smiles upon us ; but the brown and withered leaves, which are already strewn around, tell too plainly the end to which all are hasten- ing. They have but gone before tiie rest ; and the hand of the same destiny is suspended overall. Their course is done, their race is run, and they are preparing to die. They no longer play together in the breeze, nor thrive to- gether in the sun. The fruit and seed which they had protected from rays and helped to nourish, are now ripe, and must soon follow them to the parent earth ; there to be protected and defended by them from the frosts of AnTUMNAL INFLUENCES. 33 winter, and, at some future time, become their food ; be converted into wood and fruit, experience a resurrection, and take on a new body. But, without dwelling on this symbol of our own transition, we may see in the series of autumnal events, the care with which God has pro- vided for the preservation and preparation of the forest races, by an endless multiplication of germs, and their dependence on the parent tree for life, on its leaves for protection, and the influence of air as the breath of life. Thus illustrating, in the midst of surpassing beauty and solemn grandeur the relation of child and parent, and showing all to be the workmanship of one wise and almighty hand. Such are some of the autumnal lessons, taught in the great school-house of the woods. " But do not for one moment suppose that I then had, or now pretend to have had, the thoughts and emotions which I am here expressing ; for I know they were not present with me. What I contend for is, that to be in the midst of such scenes in childhood and youth, is beneficial. I insist that autumn has its lessons for the mind, its influences on the young heart, and that to many they are most precious. Children are seldona conscious of many of the effects which external circumstances pro- duce upon them. They know when they are pleased or displeased, but give no heed to the germs of thought, and emotion, and taste, which the scenes and objects around them may be quickening into life. They are unaware of the tendency which this influence is giving them to good or to evil ; yet both may be in reality a permanent basis. They are molded, and may feel the hand, but know nothing of the model which is in the mind of the artist. They assume a specific form, but are not then, perhaps never, able to refer it to the impressing forces ; 34 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKE. and still, but for them, it would not have come into ex- istence. That the autumnal influences of which I have spoken, were molding forces of my own character, and that many of its better traits were thus called into ac- tivity, I cannot doubt ; and having thus developed to you another agency, which acted on me in boyhood, I request you to generalize and extend what is true of one to the character of many." This piece of autobiographical philosophy, more than any written passage I know of, gives the true principle and secret of natural influences on character and life. If the proof from memory were not sufBcient, the very revival of these influences, in giving existence and color- ing to these thoughts, proves how deep and how durable they were. He well remarks, that few are able to recall and perceive them. He might have added, that few have received these impressions so profoundly, and are gifted with the genius, which, seizing these influ- ences in the depth of the past, brings them to the mind's eye — pictures them forth in a living image, and deduces from them the truths of nature, and the principles of phi- losophy. Such, however, was his genius — a gift of God — but which, as we shall see, was well and severely cultivated. These influences may be called the education of na- ture. The book was open to him, and he read like other youth, the story, rather than the science it disclosed. It was the science of that natural world, which was ever after to become his study. In the mean time, he got something, but not very much, from what is commonly called education — that which is learned only from read- ing. His father's library, as may be supposed, was by no means extensive. It consisted, in his own words, of the THE LIBEAET. 35 Bible, Eippon's Collection of Hymns, Dilworth's Spell- ing Book, an Almanac, and the famous History of Mon- tellion — a romance of chivalry. To these were after- wards made considerable additions, as the young Daniel advanced in the scholastics. He got Webster's Spelling Book — at that time quite a novelty — Entick's Diction- ary, Scott's Lessons, ^sop's Fables, and Franklin's Life. All these, and some others procured by borrowing, were good in their way. If they were not extensive in learn- ing, or tempting to the fancy, they were useful ; they contained the elements of knowledge, and gave no false and vicious ideas of society. With this small library, with the woods around, and in a log-cabin school-house, our youth commenced his education or instruction ; that only which the world calls education, and which certainly is one of its essential parts, without which he could not have been an eminent physician, nor have created an interest beyond the family circle, in the minds of others. If the library was meagre, so the schools in that back- woods countiy were scarcely more abundant. His father, however, managed to send him occasionally to school. He says " limited as were my attainments, they exceed- ed those of most boys around me, who knew much less. Still, as I was going to be a doctor, father decided I must have another quarter's schooling. Accordingly, he sub- scribed again to Master Smith, who kept a log school- house on the banks of the Shannon, in the woods, just two miles north of where he lived. So I began to resume my suspended school studies ; but the corn had to be hoed, and seeding time required the wheat-field to be harrowed after the sowers, and seed had to be covered with the hoe, near the numerous stumps ; and it was 36 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. indispensable for me to labor with my hands, as well as head. So I had to rise at the dawn of day, and work at the field till breakfast time, then eat, and start with my dinner in my hand. As the distance was two miles, I had to use feet, as well as head and hands, and generally ran most of the way. But what did I do when I reached the consecrated log-cabin ? Why work, conning the hard words in Webster, especially certain outre ones, and certain other tables of words, alike in sound but different in signification and spelling, write, cipher, and read in Scott's lessons." He had now arrived at his fifteenth year, and, indeed, near the close of his whole early education. Before I give a summary of what that education was, I must mention the names of his teachers. It is the least we can do to preserve the names of those who have contributed, even in the smallest degree, to form the minds of those who have been useful and honorable among men. The teachers of Dr. Drake were not very many, and some of them seem not to have been either very learned or very worthy. His first teacher was one M'Quilty. After he reached nine years, Jacob Beaden, from Maryland, came, who wielded the hickory rod in the first school- house. His function was to teach reading, writing, and ciphering, as far as the rule of three. In this school Daniel was a pupil in his tenth and eleventh years, and seems then to have been engaged in spelling, reading, and the first rules of arithmetic. According to his own re- collection, he was an orderly and attentive boy ; never playing truant, but being sometimes feruled for minor offenses. His next teacher was Kenyon, a Yankee, at that time a rara avis in Kentucky. Of him he says, he was superior S0H00L-MA8TEES. 37 to Beaden, and a man of some appearance and manners. He taught in his uncle Cornelius' still-house. Under this teacher he made some progress, and learned the rule of three. Of Kenyon's attainments, though superior to Beaden, he seems to have had no very high respect, for he gives a curious problem, which he says Kenyon refused to solve, and he believed could not. The exam- ple was this! " If, from a measure three feet high. The shadow five is made, What's the steeple's hight in yards. That's ninety feet in shade?" After long meditation, he appears to have solved this difficult problem, to the great delight of himself and his father, who, from this hopeful success, drew auspicious auguries of the future. His teacher Kenyon, however, received a mysterious and sudden eclipse ; for he ran away in disgrace. His next teacher was one Smith, a Virginian, but of him I shall speak again. The next instructor was Kneeland, also a Yankee, and who also disappeared suddenly and in bad odor. His next and last teacher, was his old Master Smith. He it was who taught on the banks of- the Shannon, as before mentioned, and who gave the finishing touches to young Drake's academical education. As it was decided that he was to study medicine, his father thought it necessary he should receive more elementary knowledge. To him Daniel was sent during the spring, summer, and early autumn of 1800, when he was in his fifteenth year. In this time, he applied himself ardently and anxiously to his studies, conscious that a professional life would re- quire a discipline of mind greater and more thorough 38 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. than he had been able to obtain. In the knowledge of what such a life needed, as well as in the ambition to attain it, he was greatly assisted by his cousin, John Drake, a medical student, who seems to have been endow- ed with genius and attainments much beyond those of common young men. From his books he learnt that a great deal of reading, of study, and of science, was neces- sary to an eminent physician ; and by his conversation he was excited with the desire to attain that eminence, and caught the spirit which could accomplish it. John Drake died in that year, and that event changed a plan formed for Daniel to study with him. What he might have been, had he remained in Kentucky, we may con- jecture in vain ; for, at each time in life, some common event, or even small circumstance, turns us aside from our pre-determined plans, and like the ball glancing aside from obstacles, we go where we did not intend, and become what we could not anticipate. We may be quite sure, however, that in the comparative obscurity of a country practice, even his genius could never have been as developed and distinguished as it was in accompany- ing the growth, and stimulated by the social movements of Cincinnati. How he came there we shall soon see. In the meanwhile let us take a glance at the results of his intellectual and moral studies. Let us see with what weapons and arms he was prepared to enter the great battle of the world. The summai7 of what he had acquired at school is given by himself in these words : " I had learned to spell all the words in Dilworth, and a good portion of those in Noah Webster, Jr., whose spelling book then seemed to me a greater marvel than does his Quarto Dictionary, now lying before me. As a boy's leaeninq. 39 reader, I was equal to any, in what I regarded as the highest perfection, a loud and tuneless voice. In chiro- graphy I was eo-so, in geography obscure, and in history o 1 In arithmetic, as far as the double rule of three, practice, tare and tret, interest, and even fractions in decimals. My greatest acquirement, that of which I was rather proud, was some knowledge of surveying, acquired from Love, (I mean to name the author, as well as my taste,) but which I have long since forgotten. Of grammar I knew nothing, and, unfortunately, there was no one, within my reach, who could teach it." Such was the substance of the early intellectual instruction of the future savant. If it was scant, it was Buch only as the pioneer school-house could afford ; but its scantiness was made up, in after life, by the strength of the seed and the fertility of the soil, which caused these germs to burst forth, and gathering nutriment froin the sun, and rain, and dew, of the outer world, to become fruitful trees. Scripture, in drawing analogies from nature, informs us that of the human soul, as of the natural plants, the magnitude of future results does not depend on the size of the seed, but even the smallest seed may become large and blooming trees. But the grace so to grow and enlarge, depends upon the kind and quality of the seed left to germinate. This leads us to inquire what was his moral instruction ? I have said in the beginning, that the parents of Dr. Drake were pious, simple-hearted Christians. Their little library, as I have related, was quite half composed of the Bible, hymn books, and religious collections. The whole influ- ence of his parents, therefore, and of his home, to which then, as afterwards, he was most dearly attached, were of a 40 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. good kind, counseling him to resist the temptations of general society, and leading his mind to contemplate divine influences. While he was under his home influ- ence, however, the external pioneer society presented much that was the very reverse ; pleasures of a gross kind and vices of all sorts. He considered it afterwards to have been an advantage, as things turned out, that he had seen the opposite sides of society in youth, and lived amidst good and evil. In regard to the moral influences of what is commonly called simple country life, he gives a testimony of high value. No one certainly was more disposed to judge it favorably, and indeed, he considered country training quite indispensable to great strength of character, yet he said, after all his observation and ex- perience, that he thought the moral dangers to youth in the country, were greater than in the city. I shall not stop to give reasons for his opinions, but they who have been boys in a country village, well know that it is not without foundation. From his parents he received a religious training which was made altogether more eflective upon his future char- acter, from the fact that he was a dutiful and affectionate child. He appears to have been, in all his youthful avocations, by the side of father or mother, their chief help and willing auditor. Of his father, he says, he was a Christian gentleman, who, comparatively without education, knew well the duties and courtesies which that character required. His mother was even less educated, but her spiritual knowledge and, specially, her sense of religlGus duty, made her the best of teachers. She, as is ever the case with children, was his religious instruc- tor, and to her his grateful mind turned back, after half a INFLUENCE OF PAEENTS. 41 century of trials, duties, and struggles, as if even beyond the vail of other worlds^ he would still commune with the same mild and genial spirit ! Of the influence of his mother he thus speaks, after he had described some of the vices of the neighborhood: " That I was preserved from any active participation in, or contamination from, these associations, to which I can trace iip the ruin of many of my companions, ought to fill my heart with gratitude to God. The influences under Him, which protected me, were, I think, in part my natural tastes and feelings, but in greater part, the admonition of my parents, and of mother still more, perhaps, than father. "Blest is the heedless little boy. To whom is given, (The boon of Heaven,) A pious mother ever kind. Yet never to his wand'rings blind. " Who watches every erring step. In holy fear; And drops a tear Of pity, on the chastening rod. Then strikes, and points, in prayer, to God." In the preceding sketch, much of it autobiographical, I have traced the steps of Daniel Drake during the first fifteen years of his life — from 1785 to 1800. There are few whose life, at that early period, can be so distinctly traced ; and few in which we can so clearly see the na- tural qualities, the surrounding influences, the domestic habits, the private education, and the parental guidance which molded the character into its after forms, and fur- nished the original forces of future action. If we have found little that was brilliant and striking, we have found much that is instructive. In the secluded life of a farmer's 4 42 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DRAKE. boy in Kentucky, before towns or cities had risen on the Ohio, there is little but the individual life — the simple human being to study or admire. But this we find perfectly marked out, and of no common kind. How vivid that poetic temperament which could extract such pictures of the imagination, and such keen emotions from the aspects of nature 1 How sharp the perceptions which could note all its operations, and each varying change ! How strong tbe memory which could return after half a century, and paint in living colors each scene, event, and action, of those earlier days ! Here, in these rural retreats, he received the first impulse towards natural science ; here he received that taste for natural beauty which never left him ; here he acquired those simple habits, which made him not only temperate, but abstemious in all his personal wants ; here he acquired all the academic education, small as it was, which, aside from his self-instruction and his profes- sional acquirements, he was able to obtain ; and here, according to the received opinions of the world, his edu- cation ceased. But was it so with him ? Very differ ent from this was his estimate of human culture. He was one of those, as we shall see in pursuing his thread of life, whose education never ceased, and whose labors were never done. All persons, places, and seasons, were to him the means and agents of instruction. Thus he continually illustrated, in his own mind and person, that great principle, that nature and society are but edu- cators. All are ministering spirits, which a strong mind converts into instruments of growth and acquisi- tion. Education, in its length and fullness, is but the vestibule, and they who teach it, but the servants in that building of various, beautiful, and infinite adornment, DRAKE ENDS SCHOOLING. 43 into which God has invited every one who is willing to inquire of him and his works I So thought Daniel Drake, and so has thought every man who has accom- plished much by living long and living well. In his sixteenth year he has arrived at the close of boyhood, and the threshold of active life. He is on the line of two centuries, (the year 1800,) and thence we find him pursuing the path of an honorable and successful life, filled with historical monuments to his useful labors, and his public services. CHAPTER II. 1800 — 1806 — Choice of a, Profession — Goes to Cincinnati to Study Medicine— Cincinnati in 1800— Sketch of Dr. Goforth, his Pro- fessor — His Medical Education — Enters upon the Practice — Goes to Philadelphia to attend Lectures in the Uniyersity— His Manner of Study — Returns to Cincinnati. Most professional men seem to have sought their occu- pation, or to have been placed in it, merely by the influ- ence of casual or adventitious circumstances. Few seem to have had a decided choice of their own, and much the greatest number to have been governed by others. Even Dr. Drake, with his strong natural tastes, was not an exception. He was predestined to his profession by his father, who seems to have chosen it in the ambition or the hope of elevating at least a portion of his de- scendants above the condition of simple, uneducated farmers. The manner in which this change was effected he thus relates : " The caste to which I belonged was to be changed, and in the arrangements of Providence, I was made un- consciously the instrument by which that change was to be effected. The conception of this change was less my own than my father's. He was a gentleman by nature, and a Christian from convictions produced by a simple and unaffected study of the word of God. His poverty he regretted, his ignorance he deplored. His natural in- stincts were to knowledge, refinement, and honorable influences in the afiairs of the world. In consulting the tradition of the family, he found no higher condition than his own, as their lot in past times ; but he had formed a 44 CHOICE OF A PEOFESSION. 45 conception of something more elevated, and resolved on its attainment — not for himself and mother, nor for all his children, for either would have been impossible ; but for some member of the family. He would make a begin- ning ; he would set his face towards the land of promise, although, like Moses, he himself should never enter it." Thus his destiny was fixed by his father in his in- fancy ; and while there were many things which might have diverted him from his course, and changed that destiny, yet Providence worked with the father's will, and made the choice of the father the decree of fate. I have already described the influence of his cousin, John Drake, upon him, who doubtless influenced Daniel's taste in favor of his father's wishes. It was intended that when John came to practice medicine, Daniel should be his pupil ; but Providence made a difierent and better arrangement. John Drake, like many a child of genius, died young, and Daniel was turned towards Cincinnati. How -that particular destination came about, was rather the result of a casual circumstance, than of a previous judgment. It seems that his father in coming to the West, or at some intermediate period, had descended the river with Dr. Goforth, who first settled at Maysville, and afterwards at Cincinnati. He was so much pleased with Goforth, that, in pursuance of his ambitious design, he determined Daniel should be a doctor. The time had now arrived when that design was to be fulfilled. Daniel had just " finished," to speak fashionably, his studies with Master Smith ; and his father had visited Dr. Goforth, to arrange the terms of his medical probation with him. In the meanwhile it was noised around the neighborhood that Daniel Drake was to be a doctor — a real gentleman — and lead a life 46 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. of ease and gentility ! Some called him doctor, and all who passed had something to say on tho subject. Much valuable advice was given, both to his father and him- self. Some particularly cautioned him against being " too proud ; " while his uncle Cornelius, with some knowledge of the world, put him on his guard against bad young men and evil companionship, of which he understood there was much around Fort "Washington, or " Cin," as Cincinnati was then called. On the morning of the 16th of December, 1800, Daniel, his father, and a Mr. Johnson, set out on horseback for Fort Washington, at which they arrived on the third day. How changed are all the modes of locomotion since then 1 From Maysville to Cincinnati, about 60 miles, is now gone in a few hours, in splendid and luxuri- ous steamboats. Then the river crafts were flat-boats, the roads bridle-paths, the taverns log-cabins, and it was a hard journey to go from Mayslick to Cincinnati. The first night the party lodged at Germantown, in a one-roomed log-cabin. The next day they were ferried over the Ohio, and dined at Indian Creek. The next night they lodged at Columbia, now a suburb of Cincin- nati. Here they found but a few scattered cabins, and between Columbia and Deer Creek bridge there were but two cabins — one about half way, and the other near Mr. Kilgour's present residence. The Post Office was then kept on Congress street, near the corner of Law- rence, by Colonel Ruffin. In the course of this journey the keen and ever active faculty of observation manifested in young Drake, was strongly exhibited. In crossing the Little Miami, he was struck with the appearance of trees on lands sub- ject to inundation, which he had not seen before ; and, THE VILLAGE AROUND FOET WASHINGTON. 47 as he entered Cincinnati, and walked in the then little village, every object was minutely observed, and strongly impressed upon hia memory; so much so, that fifty years afterwards, in an historical reminiscence, given before the Cincinnati Medical Society, he traced a vivid, accurate, and interesting picture of Cincinnati as it then was. And what was Cincinnati, the great metro- polis of the "West, then ? It may serve to give us a more distinct view of his own labors and progress, to glance a moment at the village around Fort Washington. The entire surface of cleared lands at that time did not equal that which is now built over by a solid mass of houses. Beyond the canal, and west of Western Eow there was a forest, with here and there a sm^l cabin, connected with the village by a narrow winding road. South of the elbow of the canal, and where the Roman Catholic Cathedral now is, there were half cleared fields, with margins of black-berry bushes, where the young people used to gather the fruit, at the risk of being snake-bitten. On Fifth street, near the German Catholic Church, there then stood a mound, on the top of which General Wayne, seven years before, planted his sentinels.* The site of the Mechanics' Institute, in which Dr. Drake, in January 1852, delivered his address before the Medical Library Association, was then part of a wheat-field, the stubble of which was even then, he said, decaying around the foundation of that building. In fact, where the best part of the city now is, was but a mere clearing, with here and there a field, and a few cabins. At the corner of Main and Third streets, where the Ohio Life Insurance and Trust Company Bank now * Drake's Discourse, delivered before the Medical Library Asso- ciation, January, 1852. 48 LIFE OF DE. DANIBL DEAKE. stands, lived Menassier, a French political exile, who, on the slope of the hill between Main and Walnut streets, cul- tivated a vineyard ; the first in this region now celebrated for the production of grapes, and the manufacture of na- tive wine. Where Congress and Lower Market streets now are, there was a belt of low, wet ground, which, previous to the settlement of the town, had been a series of beaver ponds, filled by the rains and the annual over- flow of the river. Front street was the only one which exhibited any pretension. It was nearly built up with log and frame houses, from Walnut street to Eastern Row, now called Broadway. The men of wealth and business, with the hotel (kept by Griffin Yeatman) were chiefly on this street, which even had a few patches of sidewalk pavement. Near the hotel, which was on the corner of Front and Sycamore streets, was a small wooden market-house built over a cove, into which barges and other craft, when the river was high, were poled or paddled, to be tied to the rude columns. In the an- gle northeast of Fourth and Broadway, the whole square was inclosed, and a respectable frame-house erected by the Hon. Winthrop Sargent, Secretary of the North- west Territory. He was at this time removed to Mis- sissippi Territory, of which he was Governor, and the house was occupied by the Hon. Charles Byrd, his successor in office. From Fourth street to the river was the military re- serve of sixteen acres, around Fort Washington, and with- in that rose the bastions, stockades, and flag-staif of the fort, where morning and evening, the reveille and the tattoo were heard. In 1803, the fort was evacuated, and soon after the grounds divided and sold as city lots. The Post Office was kept on the eastern side of this Mili- CINCINNATI IN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED. 49 tary Common, near the corner of Lawrence and Congress sti'eets, where the great eastern mail arrived as often as once a week, and its contents dispensed by the hands of the quiet and gentlemanly Colonel Ruffin, then postmaster. On the square between Lawrence and Pike, Fourth and Third streets, commonly called the Lytle Square, a single house had been built by Dr. Allison, and a field of several acres stretched off to the east and north. This was the residence of Dr. Goforth, young Drake's precep- tor. Dr. Allison had planted peach trees, and it was known in the village as Peach Grove, although when he arrived there, the dry cornstalks of early winter, were standing yet near the door. Such was the locale, as I may say, in which the young medical student was placed, in the commencement of what proved to be a long, arduous, and memorable career. It was the geTm, but the mere germ, the place only of a future city. His youth in the wilderness of Kentucky, and his manhood in the infancy of Cincinnati, had a common feature. In both it was a transition state, a state in which a great fu- ture was to be produced, chiefly by the energy, will, and genius of the present actors. There isa genius of the place, and whatever that genius might be in the present case, it was evidently one which must be constructive, having the tact, and industry to recompose, out of the rich materials furnished by nature, not only new dwellings, but new as- sociations, new ideas of society, and to seize on bold and original thoughts. We shall see as we pursue his life, that this sort of genius had full influence on his mind. Having taken a bird's-eye view of the place, I shall next introduce his preceptor. It is impossible that a preceptor should not have influence over his pupil of some kind, and when, as in this instance, he was a peculiar 5 50 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DRAKE. and eccentric man, his iniiuence is likely to be peculiar, even if it were only by impelling to an opposite course. There were many points in Goforth's character which were disliked and avoided by Drake, but there was also in others a sort of distant resemblance, which always made the student feel and speak kindly and respectfully of his old preceptor. Dr. William Goforth was a native of New York. He was a pupil of Dr. Young, then a physician of eminence in New York, and enjoyed the teachings of that distinguished anatomist and surgeon. Dr. Charles M'Knight, then a public lecturer of New York.* He came to the Ohio valley in company with his brother- in-law, General John S. Gano, and commenced medi- cal practice at Washington, (Ky.,) in 1788. There he remained eleven years, and acquired both business and popularity. It was from him that Mr. Drake, sr., first got the idea of making his son a physician. In the spring of 1800 he removed to Cincinnati, and occupied the Peach Grove House, then vacated by Dr. Allison's re- moval to the country. It was in the December following, that he was joined by his pupil Drake. Dr. Goforth is described as dressing with precision, in the then fashion of the day, having his hair powdered carefully in the morning, his hands gloved, and walking out with his gold-headed cane. He had the most win- ning manners ; great kindness of heart, told anecdotes, and talked fluently, though precise in diction. With such dress and address, it is no wonder he made an im- pression on the mind of his pupil, as well as gained favor with the public. He was withal enthusiastic, and in » Drake's Discourse before the Medical Library Association. SKETCH OF DE. QOFOKTEI, 51 some things eccentric. Indeed, I remember to have heard of him traditionally as one of the characters of the pioneer times. His pupil gratefully records of him several good acts more substantial than those of common kindness. To Dr. Goforth, he says, the people were indebted for the intro- duction of the cow-pox, at an earlier time than it was naturalized elsewhere in the West. Dr. Benjamin Water- house had received infection from England, in the year 1800, and early in 1801 Dr. Goforth received it and commenced vaccination in Cincinnati. Dr. Drake was one of his first patients, and, seeing that its influence last- ed fifty years, he was rather surprised to find medical gentlemen shying off from cases of small-pox.* Dr. Gotbrth was fond of schemes and novelties ; among other things, he encouraged the search for the precious metals in the backwoods ; and sought to mend his fortunes by the clarification of ginseng and its shipment to China. In this way, he was often the victim of adventurers, in either a small or great way. The metal searchers would bring him iron pyrites and hornblende to analyse, while they quartered at his house. In this way, and by his zeal for the curious and the antiquarian, he was seriously in- jured by a celebrated literary imposter. Sometime about 1805-6, there came a traveler to the West, who gave his name as D'Arville ; and, as such was, by means of letters, introduced to the best society of Cincinnati. This man was Thomas Ashe, an Englishman, the first to dis- cover that a book abusing the people of the United States would be profitable by its popularity. He per- formed his work with great thoroughness, and achieved * Drake's Discourse before the Medical Library Association 62 LIFE OF DE. DANIKIi DEAKK. in England a correspondent success. But for Goforth he had a worse character than even that of a malignant libel- er; to him he was a cheat and an imposter. At Big-bone Lick, (Ky.,) about twenty-five miles below Cincinnati, was a vast depository of the fossil bones of the Mastodon. Dr. Goforth had, at great expense, dug up and put to- gether the largest of these, so as to constitute a fossil skeleton of an extinct animal, probably unequaled in the world for its size and completeness. D'Arville, alias Ashe, persuaded him to intrust them to him as partner, he exhibiting them in Europe, while he shared the pro- ceeds with the doctor. The bones were never heard of again, except in a rumor that Ashe had sold them and taken the proceeds. Thus was Goforth swindled out of what was no doubt a large part of his small fortufae. These traits and incidents illustrate his character. He was sanguine, credulous, and enthusiastic in his pursuits, but with a real love for science, and a steady pursuit of knowledge. In 1807, when Drake had been several years in prac- tice, his eccentric preceptor and friend took a sudden departure. He had been much enamored of the French, which was increased by the society of Menassier, who I have mentioned as having planted a vineyard at the cor- ner of Main and Third streets. When the purchase of Louisiana took place, a field was opened both to his taste and his adventurous spirit. Accordingly, he set out in a flat-boat to seek his fortune among the Creoles and their marshes on the lower Mississippi. There he was elected a Parish Judge, and became a member of the convention which formed the Constitution of Louisiana. In the midst of this public success, however, he was full of pri- vate disappointments. The climate was unhealthy and HIS MEDICAL EDUCATION. 53 unpleasant to him. Creole manners did»not eq[nal his expectations, and his medical practice hardly corres- ponded with his expenses. I have seen a letter from him to a friend, in which, after detailing some of his griev- ances, he graphically describes the now splendid city of New Orleans as a "AeK upon earth" a figure of speech which, I suppose, was then much nearer the truth than it is in these peaceful and prosperous times. The career of Goforth now drew to an end. He was a surgeon to the Louisiana Volunteers in the war of 1812 ; but, in 1816, returned to Cincinnati with his family in a keel-boat. He reached the landing after a voyage of eight months ! Such a fact, when posterity are but a few days in traversing the same distance, will be thought one of the marvels of history. The doctor soon acquired business, but in a few months sunk to the grave, a victim to a liver disease acquired in the South. Of this remarka- ble man Dr. Drake says, he was the most popular and peculiar physician who had appeared in the ranks of the infant profession at Cincinnati, or, indeed, ever belonged to it. Such were the place and the preceptor in and with whom Dr. Drake commenced his medical career. They certainly stand in strong contrast with the great city and enynent medical schools with which he terminated his labors, and of which he might say, with more truth than vEneas, of which I was myself a founder. His stock of learning, as I have said, was small, and his stock of money even less. He had, however, from the commence- ment what is equal to riches — industry and perseverance. With this capital, and his enthusiastic love of nature, he commenced his pupilage with Dr. Goforth, at Peach Grove House. He was then in his sixteenth year ; and 54 LII'E OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. during the neict three years, his chief occupation was the study of medicine, the running of errands, the compound- ing of drugs, and all such employments as befall that jack of all trades, a country doctor's boy, student, young man, or whatever else bluntness or courtesy may call him. Of this transition period of his life, I know little except that he was diligently employed in his vocation; that he shared with characteristic sympathy in the troubles (not a few) of his friend and preceptor ; that he was busy in his observations upon nature ; that he frequently visited his parents at Mayslick ; and that he corresponded with them in terms of affectionate warmth. Indeed, his filial piety was always active, and down to a much later period he anticipated, as the greatest happiness of his life, that he should finally practice his profession near his early home, and thus smooth, by his labor and attention, the old age of his parents. In a letter dated 1804, he ex- presses this idea very strongly ; and, after acknowledging what he terms improprieties in his boyhood, commends himself to his father by an unimpeached character. " Since I have lived here," said he " I defy the town to impeach me with one action derogatory to my honor or reputation." There is no reason to doubt this estimate of his own character ; for the purity of his after life reflect- ed its truth, and tradition has furnished no rumor qf anything to the contrary. It was not very easy to stand such a test safely; for the dangers and temptations of young men at that time, were quite as great as they are now in the largest cities. Fort Washington was garrison- ed by gay officers and loose soldiers. The village around it was filled with as gay society, though not wanting in some persons of serious and religious deportment. The tone of society was military, and the garrison which gave SOCIETY OF CmcnraATI IN EIGHTEEN HUNDRED. 55 that tone was (as indeed was the whole army immedi- ately after the Revolution ) rather distinguished for the vices of gambling and intemperance. Judge Burnet, who was then a lawyer at the bar, mentions General Harrison, (then a lieutenant,) and one other, as the only officers he knew who did not end their life by intemper- ance. Of gambling ho spoke as a common practice at the garrison. There, surrounded with men of all ages, from the young subaltern to the grey-haired veteran and respectable citizen, nearly all of whom thought it a light matter to engage in these fashionable vices, he was neither seduced by their authority or example. It was, perhaps, from his early observation on these vices, that he remained to the end of life not only abstinent from them but hostile, looking with contempt upon their followers and with abhorrence on their effects. His association with Drs. Goforth, Allison, and others, threw him into the best society of the place and times, of which he had the taste and judgment to avail himself. As these social connections had great influence on his after life, I shall name some of those who were then in the front ranks of the pioneers. Of these were Judge Symmes, the patentee and proprietor of the Miami valley j Lieutenant (afterwards General and President) Harri- son, who had married the daughter of Judge Symmes ; Mr. (afterwards General) Findky, Eeceiver of Public Moneys ; General Gano, long Clerk of the Courts ; Mr. (afterwards Judge) Burnet; Arthur St. Clair, Ethan Stone, Nicholas Longworth, &c., members of the bar ; Drs. Goforth, Allison, Burnet, Sellmann, physicians ; the Eev. Messrs. "Wallace and Kemper, Presbyterian clergymen ; Colonel John S. Wallace, Major Zeigler ; Messrs. Baum, Dugan, Stanley, the Hunts, Wade, Kilgour, Spencer, 56 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DEAKE. Symmes, Yeatman, and others of like stamp, principal citi zens. These were among the most distinguished of that band of pioneers who founded Cincinnati, shaped its for- tunes, and formed its first circle of good society. Their manners and education were those of the first gentlemen in the United States ; for they had received their education in the Eastern States, and had the manly bearing which characterized the revolutionary army, mingled with the frank spirit of the pioneers. Indeed, the manners of the pioneers were superior to their morals; for hospitality pressed the bottle in all companies, and cards and theatri- cals were common amusements. Conviviality was an essential part of the social system ; and while such men as most of those I have named survived, to be distin- guished in another period, and add their contribution to the common stock of public reputation, great numbers sank to unhonored graves. This society, however, was really good ; and to a youth brought up in the country, instructive as well as plea- sant. The members of it were older than Drake, but not the less accessible ; for there was but one circle, and the Goforths and Ganos, with whom he was intimate, were a prominent part of it. At this period, I have said, his chief employment was the study of medicine, and the business of an apotheca- ry's boy. What these were he has himself described. * " It was my function during the first three years of my pupilage, to put up and distribute medicines over the village. In doing this, I was brought even as far west as where the Mechanics' Institute now is. f In this distri- bution, when my preceptor was, I may say, the principal * Discourse before the Medical Library Associatioa. t Corner of Sixtii and Vine streets. 67 physician of the village, fleetness was often necessary to the safety of patients ; and as there were no pavements, the shoi-test way through a mud-hole seemed to boyish calculations the best." The medicines were compounded in what was known as the " Doctors' Shop " of the last century. Of this he says : " But few of yoa have seen the genuine old doc- tors' shop, or regaled your olfactory nerves in the mingled odors, which, like incense to the god of physic, rose from brown paper bundles, bottles stopped with worm- eaten corks, and open jars of ointment ; not a whit be- hind those of the apothecary in the days of Solomon. Yet such a place is very well for a student ; however idle, he will always be absorbing a little medicine, espe- cially if he sleep beneath the greasy counter." Dr. Drake was the first student of medicine in Cin- cinnati, and he has recorded the beginning of medical education. On the 20th December, 1800, the day after his arrival, he commenced as medical student. His first assigned duties were to read Quincy's Dispensatory, and grind quicksilver into mercurial ointment. This was be- ginning the theory and practice at once. The medical works studied were Chesselden on the Bones, and Jones on the Muscles, without specimens of the former, or plates for the latter; and afterwards the Humoral Pa- thology of Boerhave and Vansweiten, without having studied the Gliemistry of Chaptal, the Physiology of Haller, or the Matseria Medica of Cullen. If the course of studies was selected by his preceptor, bis studio, and the manner of it, were undoubtedly chosen by his own taste. In the spring and summer of 1801, he says : " The adjoining meadow with its &rest shade trees, and the deep and dark woods of the near 58 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DKAKE. banks and valley of Deer Creek, acted in the manner of the wilderness on the young Indian, caught and incarce- rated in one of the school-houseB of civilization. Un- derneath these shade trees, the roots of which still send up an occasional scion, or among the wild flowers of the wood, which exhaled incense to Flora instead of -^scu- lapius, it was my allotted work to commit to memory the works of Chesselden and Enness." Dr. Goforth had a great dislike to the depleting prac- tice of Dr. Rush, then the great medical authority of Philadelphia ; so much so that he would neither buy nor read his works. In the year 1802, however, there came out from New York, Dr. John Stiles, who had studied medicine in Philadelphia, and was indoctrinated with the ideas of the new school. Dr. Stiles soon became the part- ner of Dr. Goforth, and so, in a measure, the instructor of Drake. He brought out with him some of the memoirs and discourses of Dr. Eush, which, to the mind of Drake, were intellectual food of the freshest and most captiva- ting kind. He seized with avidity upon the forbidden fruit, (for such they were,) and soon acquired the doc- trines of the Eush philosophy. Goforth perceived this, and it had his respgct, though his prejudices had kept him ignorant of those ideas ; and in 1803, when Drake was only eighteen years of age, the Doctor began to ask the opinions of his pupil, on cases which arose in his practice. This confidence proceeded so far that, in May, 1804, Goforth and Drake became partners in the busi- ness of their profession. Though physicians, unlike law- yers, have no specific conditions of age and qualifications as requisites to their practice, yet this early admission to the ranks of the profession must be regarded as some- thing extraordinary. Drake was then less than nineteen DEAKE BECOMES A DOCTOE. 59 years of age, and only three years before had emerged from the wilderness, a farmer's boy, with only the knowl- edge attainable in a country school. His partner also was fully capable of discrimination, an educated physi- cian, and a gentleman of good mind, and in the confi- dence of the community. These circumstances convince me that the young student, then elevated by his precep- tor, not only possessed the good character of which he spoke to his father, but must have had more than com- mon abilities. He had read, as we have seen, for that period, not only good authors, but had shown his sympa- thy with genius by the avidity with which he seized and read the works of Dr. Rush. Having thus early, and I may say crudely, entered on the practice, two difficulties sprung up, which were not only in his way, but in that of all physicians at that early period in the West. These were the real hardships of a country practice, and the extreme difficulty of collect- ing the small sums due from their patients. These were greatly enhanced to him from the fact, that while he was poor and needed all he could get, his partner. Dr. Go- forth, was unthrifty and imprudent. His first essay, therefore, as a practitioner, was attended with many annoyances and little disappointments. Of the hardships of practice he complained little, but has left a picture in sufficiently sombre colors, not to ex- cite the envy of young medical men at this day. True enough, to him, and to all enthusiastic as well as self- denying minds, there is pleasure in the most arduous labors, and an enjoyment in the wildest aspects of na- ture, or the roughest modes of society. There was youth to color his prospects with the hues of hope, and a peaceful conscience to reward diligence in duty. 60 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DEAKE. Of the influence, society, and circumstances of those times, on the practice of medicine, he thus spoke in a subsequent period : " They were not favorable to the cul- tivation of science, nor to the regular and diligent dis- charge of the daily duties of the physician, but were well fitted to produce the opposite effects ; and thus, while it deteriorated his personal habits, it contributed to keep the pecuniary condition of the people so low, that the re- wards of the physician throughout the whole era were such as would now be regarded as insignificant." The practice of a physician then was hard, and such as our city doctors would now think unendurable. Of this practice he has given U3 a sl table, she constantly finds some- thing to remind her of the pleasure which that dear little spirit gave her, and, bursting into tears, recounts the inno- cent smiles and actions of this child of our love." This is the language of unaffected grief; and all who have felt such pangs will realize the force of these expressions. Thus had two of the sorrows of life come upon their household in one year ; and while the outward world 94 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. shone bright and hopeful, the cloud of adversity had already cast ita shadows on their household. At the same time, with the sickness and death of his own child, occurred others among his friends, and in this and the following year, 1810, Cincinnati was decidedly unhealthy for children. In 1810, he writes: "it is still sickly among children, but not among adults." From testimony and observation I should think that sickness among children was greater in proportion than it is now. At any rate, I am convinced that if we except that great plague, the cholera, the general health of Cincinnati has improved, rather than diminished, with the increase of population. It seems also quite evident that the medical profession has improved in its mode of treating young children. Much less active and acrid medicine is given them, and when so little is known of some of their com- plaints, it seems admitted that good nursing, with at most mild medicines, are the best remedies. Dr. Drake was at this time rising rapidly into a large and extensive practice, and possessed the confidence of the most intel- ligent citizens ; yet, in a subsequent period, he admitted that his practice was, in some cases, too violent. His own case may be taken as an example. But in this he was in no way peculiar. It was the habit and the system of the day to apply active and powerful remedies, and es- pecially to bleed largely. If it is called the "heroic" treatment now to administer heavy doses of calomel in cholera, how much more " heroic " was it to bear numer- ous and exhausting bleedings, for the common fever of the country 1 Of Dr. Drake's mode of practice, and his self-reliance, I may give the following case, which occurred three years after, as an illustration. In 1812-13, he had a medical MEDICAL PEACTICE. 95 student, Dr. G., who removed to Hamilton, and there fell sick. With characteristic devotion to his friends, he went to Hamilton and remained there five days in attendance on Dr. G. Of this case, writing to another friend an account, he says : " He was attacked seventeen days ago, with bilious fever, which terminated in a train of nervous symptoms so violent as to threaten his existence every hour for a week. In addition to the common remedies, employed by the faculty in this quarter, I have applied an efiusion of cold water to the whole surface of the body. It has been repeated ten or twelve times, and to it I ascribe his recovery, which may at this time, I think, be considered pretty certain. This is not a new prescription, but its employment in this State has hitherto been neglected. In the summer of 1806, when I was a young practi- tioner in Kentucky, I resorted to this same remedy a sin- gle time, in a case that I thought required it. The friends having objections, I desisted, and sent for Dr. D., an old and respectable physician. The doctor spoke with great approbation of the application, but observed it was too hazardous to a physician's reputation, and, therefore, should not be employed. This advice contained some- thing which we are all sufficiently predisposed to lay hold of. I accordingly adopted it, and have had repeated occa- sions for dissatisfaction ever since. The event of some cases of fever this summer, determined me to revert to the disinterested and magnanimous views and motives of youth, and also to prescribe and enforce, in all dangf^rous cases, anything which I believe necessary, the antipathies of the sick and the obloquy of the intermeddling, notwith- standing. I know I shall have your prayers, and I value them much, for perseverance in such a good resolution." 96 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DEAKE. The rule thus laid down is undoubtedly the true one ; but when we see how much courage and firmness it takes to break through the routine of a great profession, we learn that it is not merely in social life and manners that fashion bears sway, but that over science itself its des- potism is felt. When an old physician, as in this case, advises others not to use a remedy which his judgment approves, because it might injure their reputation, it is clear that in many cases routine, rather than either skill or learning, govern the practice of the profession. The cold water effusion applied in the case of Dr. G., falls far short in either severity or temerity of many such applications made by our modern hydropathists, who, going to the other extreme, have made cold water the basis of their treatment. Since the days of Hufeland,* at least, water must be esteemed one of the great reme- dial agents ; but when, how, and to what extent, to apply it, is the great desideratum of patient and physician. Dr. Drake was occupied, as I have mentioned, chiefly by his professional practice, (now very large,) but also much in the preparation of his " Picture of Cincinnati," from 1808 to 1815. He had now reached the year 1812, and became much interested and excited, with all the people of the West, in the war about to break out, and which subsequently ravaged the frontiers of Ohio and Indiana. The war was, in this region, popular. The battle of Tippecanoe had been fought in the previous au- tumn, and the spirit of patriotism was aroused to the highest degree. The hostility against the British and In- dians was intense, and was greatly increased by an almost * Water, in various modes of administration, was recommended by Hufeland, a noted German physician. THE WAR OF EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND TWELVE. 97 universal belief that the British had instigated the In- dians in their ferocious attacks. The prophet was repre- sented as a fiery spirit, rousing his savage countrymen to war, while his warrior-brother, Tecumseh, would lead them forth to battle and plunder. The citizens of Cin- cinnati were near enough to what might become the seat of war, the Maumee, to feel for themselves great interest, if not apprehension for the result. Many of the original tribes, such as the Wyandots, Pottawatomies, Miamis, and Shawnees, still occupied the upper parts of Ohio and Indiana; and it was these tribes chiefly that Tecumseh was endeavoring to enlist. In the public sentiment of the day, Dr. Drake shared fully ; the more so, perhaps, that many of his friends were engaged in military affairs. His intimate friend, Colonel Mansfield, was an oflScer of Engineers, and was now just about to remove to West Point, where he was the principal instructor for many years. Totten, Jessup, and Cutler, his old associ- ates in the debating society, were all in the army ; and John Mansfield, another friend, was captain of a volun- teer company, which afterwards marched to Canada with Hull. Though by the necessity of his practice kept out of active military service, his correspondence, at this period, shows the most intense interest in the events which were transpiring. Nor was he wholly disengaged in the business of the war ; for he took a government contract for supplying the army with medicines, upon which, however, he made but a small profit. To him, and his immediate circle of friends, the year 1812-13 was one of profound interest. They felt not only all the excitement of intense patriotism, but their own affections and interests were not a little engaged in the persons and events of the day. Many of the 9 98 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. choicest young men in Cincinnati were volunteers in the army agaiilst Canada. Never did any body of men move forward with greater spirit and hope ; and nevci', at least in American history, were hope and promise moi-e disastrously blighted. The history of those times furnish ample details of the result ; but it was in Cincinnati the bitterness of the blow was most severely felt. In the month of June, 1812, just on the eve of the declaration of war by Congress, the army of Hull had marched from this neighborhood. The fourth regiment of the United States Infantry, which had been greatly distinguished at Tippecanoe, formed one part of the army, and was everywhere received with great accla- mation. The regiment from the Miami country was commanded by General Findley, and embraced some of the most active citizens. Several companies volunteered from Cincinnati, of which one, the Light Infantiy, was commanded by John Mansfield. The whole population of the country turned out on the highways to witness the departure of the army, as they believed, for the conquest of Canada. The warmth and brightness of the sum- mer's sun under which they moved, were not warmer or brighter than the hopes and anticipations of the people, as they waved their hands and shouted out their joy. Such were the auspices under which the troops moved forward. The scene, however, was soon changed, and long be- fore, they saw an enemy, clouds and shadows gathered on the horizon. It appears from the private correspondence of Captain Mansfield, that the army had not gone an hundred miles before the oiBcers lost all confidence in their general. His movements were dilatory, and his GENERAL HULl's SUEEENDER. 99 mind indecisive. He had lost the energy of youth, without acquiring the wisdom of age. Timidity had taken the place of courage, and extreme caution the place of enterprise. Their only hope was that Provi- dence would save them from his blunders. Such, how- ever, was not their fate. The final catastrophe soon came, and the northwestern army was surrendered to the British. The eifect which this event produced on the minds of the Western people, is forcibly described by Dr. Drake in these words : " Before reading this you will have heard of the as- tonishing, degrading, deplorable, and exasperating intel- ligence of the capture of our army. I should rather say the surrender, if not the sale, of that fine body of Ohio patriots and warriors. An unrestrained and universal imprecation has, in this State and Kentucky, burst forth on General Hull. It seems to be the study of all ranks and conditions of persons, to invent expressions of exe- cration, that may be sufficiently indignant to express their feelings." This language was not too strong. For years the name of Hull was never mentioned but with execration ; and, at that time, most persons believed him a traitor. Of that, however, he has been acquitted, and his blunders attributed to timidity or dotage. Speaking of the future consequences of this disgrace- ful failure. Dr. Drake continues : " Tecumseh is said to hold a brigadier's commission, and to command the copper-colored hyenas. I suspect the plains of the St. Mary's will be drenched with blood. I cannot but shudder at the prospect, and deplore that pussilanimity which did not strike a blow, when and where the, enemy was vulnerable." This anticipation was, in a great 100 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. measure, realized. The subsequent seige of Fort Meigs, the capture and massacre of Winchester's detachment, and the ravages committed on the frontiers, were all con- sequences of Hull's surrender. There was no recovery of our ground in the northwest, till Harrison's victory on the Thames. Public calamities never come without private distress. The. blunder, or the cowardice, which by surrender tore the laurel from the soldier, carried grief to many a heart. Not only did the Indians pursue with savage cruelty many a frontier family, but some of the best soldiers of the army perished by disease, caused by exposure or despondency. Among these was Dr. Drake's intimate and highly valued friend, Captain John Mansfield, whose loss was among the mournful memories of his life. He was a most extraordinary young man, whose character pro- duced a more intense and enduring impression upon those who knew him, than did any one of whom I have ever heard. The impression made upon others — an impression deep and durable — is the highest testimony to the reality of a great and noble character. The fleeting effect of brilliant genius, or the doubtful applause given to talent without virtue, may be possessed by many ; but it is sel- dom we find that perfection of character which demands a praise which never wavers, and which no time destroys. Still more seldom do we find in it such kindly affections, as draws within its embrace the hearts of both strangers and friends. Such was the character of Captain Mans- field ; and I judge it only by the concurrent testimony of a large number of persons, from the passing citizen to the near relatives, from the soldier who served with him tc the officer who commanded. DEATH OF JOHN MANSFIELD. 101 Returning after Hull's surrender, in an open boat on the lake and river, he was seized with autumnal fever ; enfeebled by disease, he was not less broken in spirit ; and his sensitive mind seemed to have sunk under the stain of disgrace and disappointment. In this state Dr. Drake found him, when returned to Cincinnati. No power of medicine, or care of friend, availed against his deep-seated maladj of mind and body. He was already delirious, and soon sank to the grave. He was only in his twenty-fifth year ; and one so young, so unassuming, and so full of worth, was never so much lamented by so many who knew what worth was. The public honors paid to his memory — not a few — were small conipared to the tribute of sorrows poured out by hearts bound to him by no tie of nature, but endeared by strong affection. Dr. Drake prepared for the newspapers of the day a beautiful eulogium, just in itself, and elegant in its com- position. But a passage from a letter, written months after this event, and with no idea that it would be read by other eyes than those to whom it was addressed, will show more clearly his views of his friend's character. "Sorrow, deep and enduring sorrow, should occupy our souls by day and night, that such virtues, genius, and ambition must become extinct; that he who possessed them must in the midst of his desire for life, his attachment to friends and country, and in the commence- ment of his career to the glory that awaits the patriot and philosopher, by one unexpected, one fatal stroke, be brought to the silent grave. " When we see nature create a beautiful form, dignify it with the graces and aspects of the most Exalted man- hood, sanctify it with virtue, ennoble it with gemus, and 102 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DKAKE. animate it with ambition ; when we see her conduct thi3 exalted work of her hand through the critical periods of infancy, childhood, and youth ; and providing for him mentors worthy to be heard and obeyed ; when we see her superintend this rising ornament of his race to the threshold of usefulness, and then sufl'er him- to become extinct, while thousands of stupid, vicious, and useless cotemporaries survive his fall, we — at least I am — confounded in astonishment and terror; and must ex- claim that the ways of heaven are past finding out ! " In the following year he named a child after his lamented friend, saying : " If he should inherit but a por- tion of the genius of that extraordinary young pliiloso- pher, and labor and imitate his virtues, we shall call ourselves blessed." The child, like his namesake, was full of promise ; but was suddenly cut down in the flower and disappeared. In the years 1813 and 1814, we find him chiefly en- gaged in his profession, and in the completion of his " Picture of Cincinnati," which grew upon his hands and for which he accumulated a great mass of materials by observation and correspondence. About the same period, also, we find him commencing a series of commercial operations, which extended through several years, and in the end were very disastrous. For this kind of business he was not well fitted, both be- cause he did not love money enough to be careful of it, and because, like all other professional men, his time and thoughts were necessarily engaged upon other things. The history of literature and of science proves clearly enough that nothing has proved more unfortunate to men in these walks, than commercial speculations. There ia something in the pursuit of money and the ENTERS DPON OOMMEECIAL BUSINESS. 103 pursuit of knowledge, which, if not radically hostile to each other, at least admits of no divided empire. Mammon claims all for his own, and looks with jealousy and hate upon all who raise their eyes above the earth. Though Newton, and a few other scientific men have, by good for- tune or great frugality, became wealthy, yet most men of learning and genuis have had, like Milton, good reasons to describe Mammon as " the least erected spirit that fell From Heaven, for e'en in heaven his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent; admiring more The riches of heav'n's pavement, trodden gold, Then aught divine, or holy else enjoyed." On the other hand, it is charged with no less truth upon men engaged wholly in intellectual or religious pur- suits, that they are too negligent of business, or too in- different to economy. The fact is doubtless so ; and only proves that human nature is yet imperfect and in- capable of being great in all things. If it was guided only by the instincts of want, it would make the pursuit of gain the end of life. If by the instinct of glory only, it would pursue knowledge through invisible worlds, and grasp its spirit beyond the grave. Thus divided are the tendencies of our imperfect nature, which finds its hardest task in pursuing that just course, which neglects not the needs of earth, while it aspires to that intellectual §lory which it shares in common with the angels. At no period of his life did Dr. Drake feel more his early deficiencies of education, or aspire more ardently to the higher walk of professional and'scientific eminence; yet it was at this period also, he became immersed in business, and seemed to think, as Dr. Adam Clark has 104 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DKAKE. somewhere expressed it, that " no man could have too many irons in the fire." He was practicing medicine most actively, was preparing books for the press, was engaged in all the social affairs of the day, had a large correspon- dence, was building a house, and finally, had established a drug store on Main Street (between Second and Third streets,) and now actually meditated increasing it by the sale of groceries ! The last plan he executed. His brother Benjamin, who was then studying law at Mays- lick, was invited, in '1814:, to assist him, and finally to be his partner in the drug store. In one of his letters, written just before this, he says he had conceived the idea that the sale of groceries, in connection with the drug store, would be very profitable. As a reason for this, he gives the retail prices of several articles, prevailing in Cincinnati in 1813; and certainly they look tempt- ing enough to the merchant, though very awful to the consumer. That the curious reader may compare them with present prices, I quote a few of them : Hyson Tea $2.25 f ft. Coffee, 37J " Loaf Sugar 37i " Madeira Wine 5.00 ^ gal. These, he says, are war prices, but that the profits will be better in peace ; because they will be obtained easier. In reading his calculations on this subject, I am struck with the great vicissitudes of mercantile life, and the impossibility that any one should succeed in it who does not give to its affairs his whole time and attention. In the estimates of Dr. Drake on commercial affairs at that time, two of the greatest elements which have affected and. modified trade in the West were left out of , COMMERCIAL ENTEKPKISES. 105 view. In after times, as I shall relate, he studied both most thoroughly, and, in the zeal and attention he gave them, proved that his experience had been valuable and instructive. The elements left out were the changes in locomotion, and the liabilities to revolution in credit and currency. The inventive genius which introduced steam navigation, changed entirely the cost and the time required for the supply of foreign products, and thus rapidly reduced prices, leaving less margin to the merchant, though more certainty to his busi- ness. The vacillating action of the government at one time expanded and then reduced the currency; credit expanded and contracted with it, so that those who pur- chased largely on credit were crushed by the spasmodic contraction of the commercial machinery. About this time, the Bank of Cincinnati came into existence, and to advance his new projects, he and his brother borrowed money of this institution. Banks were then popular, and to get money, if asked for by any respectable person, from a bank here was a matter of course. The proportion of bank capital then em- ployed in Cincinnati was, in proportion to the inhabit- ants, tenfold what it now is. These banks having, in the aggregate, more than a million of capital, issued notes of universal credit in the West — issued notes without stint, as to quantity, and without fear of any future calamity. In this state of things Dr. Drake and his brother Benjamin commenced their commercial pur- suits, and for a time went on prosperously. Their largest capital was in a high character for integrity, energy, and perseverance, and this character was un- tainted by any of the unfortunate events which always follow in the train of adversity. 106 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DEAKE. Immersed, as he was, in these business affairs, we find him one of the most active, if not the chief leader, in the literary enterprises of the day. In April, 1814, he writes: "In addition to my other engagements, I have been lately much employed in the business of the Lancaster Seminary, of which I am the Secre- tary, and in that of the Library Society, of which I am President." In the Lancaster Seminary he was always much in- terested. This institution was the original foundation of Cincinnati College. The scheme was started by Dr. Joshua L. Wilson, Pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, and in 1815 went into complete operation, with four hundred and twenty pupils, others being rejected for want of room. The building was erected by contri- butions among the citizens, and the site was a part of what was originally dedicated as a public square, and then in the possession of the Presbyterian Church. The church gave a perpetual lease, on certain conditions, of the quarter-square on the northeast corner of Fourth and Walnut streets. The building of Cincinnati Col- lege (the college itself is in abeyance) now occupies the Walnut street front, while the Fourth street side is built 'up with stores. Of this Seminary Dr. Wilson and Dr. Drake were the chief promoters, while, as subscribers to its fund, may be found the names of the oldest and best citizens of Cincinnati. The Library Society flourished for many years, acquired a large number of valuable books, but at length perished, about 1830, of mere vis inertia. Of all the literary societies and literary under- takings I have known — and they are numerous — nine- tenths died in the first five years, and of the residue nine-tenths are perished now. For this there are two LITEEAEY ENTEEPEISES. lOT sufficient reasons, in addition to the common instability of human schemes. One is the extreme mobihty and versatility of the American people, which, after forming one plan of literary endeavor in one place, soon impels them to other plans and other places. The other and greatest cause of instability in literary enterprises is, that they generally make no alliance with Mammon, without which little in American enterprise is perma- nent. In other words, they seldom have little property, and consequently are without the common means of at- traction to selfish interests. The Lancastrian Seminary, and its successor, Cincinnati College, having, by its grant from the church, a valuable property, has pre- served a nominal life, and may yet be made useful. But the Library Society, the Debating Society, the School of Literature and the Arts, (founded about the same time,) and hundreds of successors, similar in kind, have, like butterflies of a spring, terminated their ephemeral existence. The period now drew nigh when the long-expected " Picture of Cincinnati " was ushered into existence. It was dedicated to his friend. Colonel Mansfield, then Professor of Philosophy at West Point, and was well received by the public. It seems never to have been very popular at Cincinnati, for whose benefit it was written and whose growth it asserted. But it was highly praised in the Atlantic States, and made its way to the continent of Europe. A large num.ber of the copies were disposed of in the Eastern cities, but I have not learned that it was profitable. Probably in the end there was little of either gain or loss, in money, by its publication. In reputation, however, it made the name of Dr. Drake widely known, and he was praised in 108 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. regions where Cincinnati itself had been before unheard of. In its scientific survey of the natural history and climate of the Miami valley, it is still unequaled for its correct information, and remains one of the most solid monuments to the reality of his genius, and the extent of his research. So closed, in his life, the year 1815, which, finding him amidst labors, cares, and schemes of various kinds, has left him happy in his home, a successful practitioner, an active citizen, and a distinguished author. CHAPTER V. 1815— 1818— His Literary Difficulties — Method of Study and Writing — Goes a second time to the University of Pennsylvania — Wistar Parties — Graduates — Has an extensive Practice — Enters into Com- mercial Speculations — Is attacked with Dyspepsia — Mode of Treatment — Is appointed Professor in Lexington Medical School — Literary Labors — Resigns and returns to Cincinnati. The publication of the picture of Cincinnati leads me to relate the difficulties which lay in the way of his au- thorship, or of any continuous study. We are curious to know by what processes of thought others have pre- ceded us in the pursuit of knowledge. We have a lurking desire to know whether they have pursued paths we cannot pursue, or whether they do not owe to dili- gence what we have attributed to genius. Dr. Drake labored, in early life, under all the difficul- ties of a partial and defective education. At fifteen, as I have related, his literary and scientific education, as commonly understood, terminated by necessity. Hence- forward, he was a doctor's boy, or young practitioner, compelled to look for his daily bread, and unable to attend medical schools, or procure a methodical course of science, till many years after his arrival at Cincinnati. In the preparation of his book he encountered, there- fore, a difficulty in the want of systematized knowledge ; in the want of knowing where things were to be found, and how to use them. This difficulty did not render that book, which was one of original information, less valua- ble to others, but it made it more laborious to himself. 109 110 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. The whole case is fully stated in the following paragraph of a letter, written after its publication : " I have not written to j'ou, and some others, for a longer time than I ever kept silent before. The reason for this Mr. M. will understand more fully, perhaps, than any other of my correspondents, as his experimental knowledge of the perplexities of authorship could not have left him ignorant on that point. But even Mr. M. is not fully prepared to imagine, in what a.degree of embar- rassment I have been immersed for six months past, unless he was obliged to study the dements of the sciences to which they belong, to make a dozen applications for a fact, which might be answered in as many words, to exchange the inkstand and pen for the lancet and galli- pot every hour in the day, and above all to confront boldly a succession of pertinacious duns. Without all this, and more, he could not experimentally know to what I have been subjected this summer. In the midst of such diflSculties and distractions, greater in proportion, I sus- pect, than those in which Dr. Johnson composed his folio dictionary, nothing but absolute necessity could have Icept me to the course." Another difiBculty lie met with is rather a singular one. It was his too great a regard to acauraey. With great reverence for truth, and a scientific mind, he could not bear to state as facts, what he did not know, or knew but vaguely. But nothing is more common than the in- accuracy with which men observe things, or the exag- geration and uncertainty of their statements. Hence, as he states in his letter, he had often to apply many times for what could have been answered at once, and then to examine and compare the accounts received with those of others. HIS LITERARY DIFFICULTIES. Ill In his habits of intellectual labor, he had the only quali- ties which could successfully overcome such difficulties — untiring perseverance and ceaseless industry. But, it may be asked, how can one who practices medicine, builds houses, deals in merchandize and founds literary societies, find time either to study or write ? No common mind could have done it ; it would have been confused in the complexity, or appalled at the magnitude of its labors. It was precisely in such circumstances that he exhibited the extent of his energy, and the versatility of his resources. In fact, to study or write under the pres- sure of his engagements, was only possible by snatching every moment, night or day, which could be taken from other objects, and applying his mind, in these scraps of time, with the vigor of a student who was never interrupt- ed. Most of these hours of literary labor were taken fromihe night, or at periods of domestic occupation, when he was confined at home. It has happened, not unfrequently, that he was found sitting by his wife with an infant in one hand and writing with the other, by the dim light of a dipped candle, for those were not the days of gas-burners. Thus his writing or his studies proceed- ed by snatches, here a little and there much, as he could find opportunity. Fixed hours of study he could not have, and many of those, in which he accomplished most, were at the midnight time, when the world slum- bers upon its toils, and the student and the watcher only are awake. When the " Picture of Cincinnati " was fairly dismissed from his hands, his active and ambitious spirit immedi- ately took a new turn. He had informed his friends, in the East, a year before, that he should take the earliest possible time to renew his attendance on the medical 112 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. lectures of the University of Philadelphia. It is quite pro- bable that he then contemplated, what was nearly all the remainder of his life a darling object, the teaching of medicine by lectures, which implied his sooner or later becoming a professor in some medical institution. To do this it was necessary that he should have a degree. If such, however, was his design then, he did not avow it ; but declared the necessity of renewing his stock of medical information, as the main purpose of his second visit to Philadelphia. Long previous, he wrote : " Yon are well apprized of the necessity there exists, in a lite- rary and professional point of view, of my visiting Phila- delphia again. That necessity I find every day to increase. You know no business can be conducted without renovating the capital stock, as it becomes wasted. It is now eight years since I commenced the practice of physic, which is a trade in ideas, and I begin seriously to feel an exhaustion of scientific funds. You will be surprised that I have not felt it before. In truth I have, but not being able to replenish them, I said but little, being willing, like all others, to support my credit as long as it was practicable." It was a year and a half after this was written, that the plan was perfected and carried out. For this pur- pose he had taken his brother Benjamin into partnership, in his mercantile establishment, in the summer of 1814. It was not, however, till the following year, that he could accomplish his object. At length, in October, 1815, he and his wife set out for Philadelphia, leaving their two children at home, in the care of his parents, who about this time removed to Cincinnati. In journeying to the East they met with a severe afflic- tion in the sickness of Mrs. Drake, who was taken with LirEEATUEE IN PHILADELPHIA. 113 bilious fever, and confined three weeks at Zanesville. In consequence, he arrived at Philadelphia two weeks after the commencement of the lectures, and was pressed for time during the whole course. With his usnal activity he managed, however, to see and learn all that a stranger could learn in so short a period. He attended the meetings of the Philosophical Society, became ac- quainted with the principal literary and scientific people, attended to binding and publishing a large number of his books, (which had been sent from Cincinnati in sheets,) and, with a view to his future commercial ope- rations, looked into the sales, qualities, and prices of goods. In the midst of all this he attended the lectures most assiduously, and seems to have been in some anxiety as to his examination for a degree. Coming from the West, where literature was yet in its infancy, and with a great awe of the celebrated University, its learned professors, and the refined society of Philadel- phia, he very naturally expected more than he was likely to find ; for it is seldom the pictures of the imagination are equaled by the reality. Accordingly, he was a little disappointed in what he saw ; but, after all, found much of both instruction and pleasure, in his winter at Phila- delphia. Dr. Wistar had then commenced what was known as the Wistar Parties, and which consisted of a re-union of the most intellectual people to be found in Philadelphia. His house was for a long time, for men of mind and learning, the center of attraction in Philadelphia. Dr. Drake thus speaks of them : " I do not find in this great metropolis such an active literary zeal as I expected to meet with, and, having been very generally introduced to the savans, I must acknowledge myself somewhat disappointed. There are, however, 10 114 LITE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. some gentlemen of ejctensive and very respectable attain- ments. Dr. Wistar, the Professor of Anatomy, and President of the Philosophical Society, is both a scholar and a philosopher ; not, perhaps, of the first order, but of a grade which entitles him to distinction. He occu- pies, however, the very first rank as the patron of litera- ture and science. Every Saturday night he has a sort of levee or conversatione, at which you will see in suc- cession, nearly all the literati of the city, and all the distinguished visitants. I have spent many evenings with him, and always with pleasure and improvement. We generally have there the Abbe Correa, of whom you have probably heard something, and who I wish you could see. He is unquestionably a man of very great attain- ments, with powers of understanding unusually strong. He is a Portuguese, and has been in the United States about four years. But I will reserve these details for the happy hours I promise myself in your society." The society of which he here spoke was that of his friend, Colonel M., whose family at West Point, he and Mrs. Drake rejoined again, for a brief period, after several years of absence. This journey and visit, how- ever, were destined to have more than one disappoint- ment, and be followed by more than one cloud. Mrs. Drake's severe illness had required nearly the whole winter to recover from, and now he found his friend dis- quieted with the sickness of a child, which soon after perished. He returned to Philadelphia, to hear of the death of his son John, who fell, like his eldest child a victim to the croup. He found also the commencement over, and was threatened, moreover, with the loss of his diploma, which had been the great object of his visit to Philadelphia. The faculty, however, granted him a HE OBTAINS HIS DIPLOMA. 115 separate "commencement," and he received the first medical degree which was ever conferred on a citizen of Cincinnati. As he had been the first student, so he was now the first graduate of medicine in this city. In May, 1816, he returned to Cincinnati, and immedi- ately recommenced an active and profitable practice. But this was by no means his only employment. His mind was evidently occupied with various ambitious plans — professional, commercial, and literary — all of which were successively developed in his after life, and influ- enced his character and fortune in various ways. We have seen that his visit to Philadelphia was for the double purpose of enlarging his mind by new informa- tion, and of obtaining a diploma, which, in those times, was deemed necessary to a reputable physician, or to competency as a professor in medical colleges. We have also seen that he was engaged in mercantile afiairs. In 1814, his shop on Main street, opposite Lower Market, was carried on by the firm of " D. Drake & Co., Drugs and Medicines," the " Co." being his brother Benjamin. In November, 1815, when about to go to Philadelphia, he sold out the drugs and medicines to Dr. John WooUey, but seems to have retained his store which he owned. In March, 1816, the store was re-opened in a diiferent line of business, under the firm of Isaac Drake & Co., Isaac Drake being his father, who had now removed to Cincinnati. The business was now that of dealing in "drygoods, hardware, and groceries." At that time there was no division of labor or sales among merchants. Hardware men sold groceries, and drygoods men sold books ; and more frequently the same merchants sold samples of everything, from deer-skins to silks, and from Noah Webster's spelling book, (then the only American 116 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. spelling book,) to sugar and molasses. In the newspa- pers of the day, there was but one firm (that of Yeatman & Anderson,) which advertised groceries only, and they seemed to deal on a large scale for the times. The idea of commencing mercantile business was con- nected intimately with Dr. Drake's visit to Philadelphia. He undoubtedly intended this when he sold out his drug establishment, and while in Philadelphia wrote to his brother to come on in February, and make his purchases. He was strongly impressed with the idea, that goods pur- chased then would sell for large profits ; for he said they were now much lower than they had been ; and, as they would get them out early in the spring, they could undersell others. As this idea, so felt and expressed, was a common delusion of thousands at that time, and as it resulted disastrously to most of them, it may be instructive to examine the causes which produced such effects. Peace had been made with Great Britain in the be- ginning of 1815. Previous to that the war had produced an almost complete exclusion of European goods. The stocks of imported woollens, silks, and cottons, had been reduced to almost nothing, and the prices were enor- mously high. In the mean time American manufac- tures had sprung up, and it was the fashion of the day to wear American fabrics. Among others, the Cincinnati Manufacturing Company had gone into operation, to which Dr. Drake was an original subscriber, and in which he now held shares. Such was the state of things at the close of the war, when the peace at once broke down all barriers against the importation of foreign goods. The consequence was that the country was immediately flooded with English and French merchandize. The EXPEEIENCE IS MEEOANTILE AFFAIES. 117 prices fell rapidly. American manufacturing establish- ments were destroyed ; but at the same time a great number of local banks were established, which, by increasing the currency, increased also the general ex- penditures, debts, and extravagancies. In the commencement of this tide of cheap goods, increased expenses, and extended credits, Dr. Drake was in Philadelphia, and entered into the general idea that commercial business must necessarily be profitable; and, especially, as goods were comparatively so low that if they could be got out to Cincinnati soon, they would sell well. He had not then the experience so dearly bought, which enabled him in after times to see the fallacies of speculative reasoning on mercantile affairs. The results which took place were inevitable. The continued im- portations of foreign goods depreciated their price still further, while it drained the country of coin. The ex- pended currency had to be contracted. Credits were destroyed, debts were collected by force, and a wide and desolating storm swept the entire country, from East to West, and contined from 1817 to 1823. At this period, however, was the high noon of appa- rent prosperity. Everybody gave and took credit ; and nearly everybody engaged in some sort of commercial business. Physicians became merchants, clergymen bankers, and lawyers manufacturers.* Farmers and mechanics, not tempted to become tradesmen and ban- kers, turned their attention to town-making — always a thrifty occupation in new countries. Within a hun- dred miles of Cincinnati, hundreds of new towns were * Dr. Drake, Judge Burnet, General Harrison, Oliver M. Spencer, and others, in different professions, were founders of the first banks and factories, as well as literary institutions. 118 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DKAKK. laid out, all of which were guaranteed, by their pro- prietors, to have unrivaled advantages, and the sure prospect of becoming either a Rome or Venice.* Re- cent geographies do not recognize the existence of many of them ; but this is not surprising, since within smaller orbits they may have performed the circuit of Tyre or Nineveh, in rising to splendor and falling to decay. In fine, the general spirit of the times was speculative and commercial. The plans of Dr. Drake, as well as others, were favored by the banking facilities of Cincin- nati at that time. Banks had not then learned the neces- sity of contraction under a pressure of demands, and were ready to loan when there was a good endorser. The doctor sold his shares in the Cincinnati Manufacturing Company, now verging to ruin, parted with some real estate, negotiated some loans, and commenced his store. One of his first operations was the first of its kind, I think, in the West. While in Philadelphia, he had purchased an apparatus for making mineral water, with cylinders and chemicals necessary for that purpose. Accordingly, in May, 1816, the firm of Isaac Drake & Co. announced that they were ready to furnish artificial mineral water, prepared in the best manner. To the people of Cincinnati, who had not yet arrived even at the luxury of ice in summer, it must have been a most refreshing and startling announcement, to be told that they could henceforth drink the nectar of soda water ! This was a small benefaction, but it is one which may well be remembered to the credit of his enterprise in a new pursuit. The town has since made many greater a,dvances in civilization, but mineral waters are still » See the "Liberty Hall" of 1816-17-18-19. COMMERCIAL DIFFICULTIES — PEOFESSOESHIP. 119 among its acknowledged comforts. The result of the summer's business to the firm of Isaac Drake & Co., was not such as had been confidently anticipated. Writing, in November following, in reference to the negotiation of a loan, the doctor said: "It will be an advantage and a comfort to me, of which you can form no conception. The present is a most difiicult and trying time in the commercial world, and is likely to continue for many months, after which we shall do well enough." So he and the most intelligent people then thought ; but the months were run into years, and the " well enough " was at a remote period. He said that his debts in Philadelphia were coming due, while the goods he bought remained unsold. From the difficulties of the moment he extricated himself only, in subse- quent years, to be plunged into greater. In the mean while, however, his professional reputation was ex- tended, his practice large, and he became eminent in medicine and science. The year 1817 ushered him into new, and, in after time, the most important relations of his public life. In January of that year, he accepted a professorship in the Medical College at Lexington, and soon after com- menced his long and distinguished career as a public teacher of medicine. This event he announces to an old and intimate friend with evident satisfaction : " I am now going to astonish you — so cling hold of every support within your reach — I am a Professor! Yes, incredible as it may appear to you and my other intimate friends, / am really and honafide appointed a Professor, and I re- peat it on this side of the sheet, to save you the trouble of turning back to see whether your eyes did not deceive you. I am, let me repeat, unquestionably a Professor; 120 LITE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. but you must not suppose, by this, I am a great man. For a professorship to confer greatness, it must be a professorship in a great institution. But that does not liappen to be the case in this instance. In Lexington, (Ky.,) there has been for many years an incorporated seminary, styled the Transylvania University. It has ample endowments, but very little celebrity. The trus- tees are, however, engaged in the erection of a large and elegant college edifice, and have established a faculty of medicine, as well as a faculty of the arts. The professorship of materia medica and botany is the one they have ofiered to me, and five days ago I signi- fied my acceptance. I am not, however, about to move thither, but calculate to be suflered to spend my winters there, and the rest of the year in this place. You will, of course, feel alarmed for my professional interests here, but they are, I think, pretty well secured. My old master, Dr. Gofortli, has returned to this place, and knowing his popularity, and that he would form a part- nership with some person, I proposed such a connection with myself, and on the first instant it commenced. He ■will attend to our united business in winter, and I shall, for two or three years, at least, be at liberty to pursue my studies without interruption. If the trustees should be displeased with my residing here, I will resign, as I have no wish to exchange Cincinnati for Lexington." This was the commencement of his career as a teacher of medicine. It was also the commencement of the Medical College at Lexington. The latter was the first established in the West, and owes its origin chiefly to the public spirit and exertions of Dr. Benjamin W. Dudley, the eminent surgeon. Lexington had been called the Athens of the West, while Cincinnati was a CINCINNATI AND LEXINGTON. 121 village, and there was a laudable ambition to build up and sustain institutions worthy of that name. Lexing- ton was then very nearly the same size, and supposed to be equally prosperous with Cincinnati.* Their very different career and progress since could not have been anticipated fully by any one not prophetically inspired ; and it will appear, in the course of this memoir, that to Dr. Drake and a few others like him, of public spirit and discernment, no small part of this difference is due; for, after giving to the commerce derived from the Ohio river its full weight, very much of the prosperity and growth of Cincinnati is due to the artificial improve- ments, whose long arms, stretching to the interior, poured the wealth of the country into this central city, and gave excitement and support to its manufacturing industry. To Lexington, however, is due the credit of founding the first medical college in the West, and the sagacity to see and value the superior talents of Dr. Drake. He and Dr. Dudley were now the rising stars of the medi- cal profession in the valley of the Ohio. They were both medical teachers, and remained so for nearly the whole period since. They had both become eminent in that capacity, and in the practice of medicine. But in other respects they were widely different. Dr. Dudley, by confining himself more exclusively to his profession, and to some special branches of it, has acquired a world-wide reputation, in those subjects surpassed by * In 1814, Lexington contained about 6,000 inhabitants. Cincin- nati did not contain more than 8,000, if so many. Lexington has now aboivt 8,000. The difference, at the present day, has been pro- duced chiefly by the difference of location. Cincinnati, being on the Ohio river, drew the trade of the interior to itself. 11 122 LIFE OP DE. DANIEL DBAKE. none. ".Dr. Drake, on the contrary, then and afterwards, was ambitious of a wider range. He aspired to be the eminent citizen, as well as the eminent physician. His mind was naturally adapted to the cultivation of science, for he was a lover of nature, from which science springs, and thus his discerning mind carried him into various regions of knowledge, and his reputation was as much that of a man of science as that of a physician. It was probably the intimate knowledge of botany, and the love of natural science displayed in the Picture of Cincin- natati, which procured his appointment as Professor of Materia Medica in the new University of Transylvania. The new school did not commence its operations till the following winter, so that he had ample time to make his arrangements, and pursue his avocations. He had formed a partnership, as I have related, with his old friend Goforth ; but it had a very brief existence. Go- forth, almost immediately, was taken with an acute affection of the liver, acquired in his long voyage up the river, and died in the following May. At this time Dr. Drake's practice was large and lucrative. In one of his letters he stated it at the rate of seven thousand dollars per annum. The town had then but ten thousand in- habitants, and there were fifteen or twenty physicians. His practice was then comparatively as large as it would be if double that amount now. About this period he had a very severe attack of dys- pepsia, 'a complaint chiefly prevalent among literary and professional men, and which advanced civilization has increased. It has various causes ; but, setting aside those cases which arise from the presence of some other disease, they may be all reduced to one general formula, viz : the too great excitement of the nerves through the DYSPEPSIA. 123 brain, and the too little exercise of the muscles- by bodily work. There are numerous cases called dyspep- sia which arise from other causes — most of them from other diseases of the body, exciting gastric disturbance. In Dr. Drake's case, his profession undoubtedly furnished considerable exercise ; but his literary pursuits, his mid- night studies, and his numerous cares, were continually exhausting his nervous energy, sometimes showing its effects in the torpidity of the gastric organs, and some- times in an oppression on the brain. For such diseases there is no remedy but the removal of the causes, a dimi- nution of the nervous action, and a change from sedentary to active habits of life. Dyspepsia is like.con- sumption or rheumatism — the opprdhium, of the medical profession, for it is beyond the art of medicine, and is only within the reach of natural means. Drake's treatment of his own case will show what he thought of the hygienic treatment applicable to dyspepsia in those days. On the 30th of May, he writes : " From the latter part of December to the 10th or 12th of this month, my dyspepsia increased alarmingly, and I decreased in weight until I was twenty pounds lighter than when I was in my twenty-first year. I have at length adopted a course of diet, exercise, and regimen, which has produced a promising effect ; and, when on the eve of abandoning my profession, and journeying with my family till restored, I have been prevented, and encouraged to trudge "forward as usual, by the occurrence of several indications of returning health. I have not tasted cofiee or tea for six weeks, nor any kind or variety of bread for nearly five. I cannot drink wine, brandy, cider, beer, or porter ; and my only beverage is a table spoon- ful of old whisky, with a tumbler of hot water, three 124 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. times a day, with my meals. The only food I take be- sides meat and eggs, is a little boiled rice with cream and molasses, by way of dessert. I have quit walking and running, and travel over the town in a gig. I study scarcely at all, and sleep as much as possible. From these causes I have begun, within three weeks, to feel decidedly better, and am sanguine in my expectations of being able to prosecute my business till the time arrives for me to repair to the University at Lexington, whither I have resolved to go, notwithstanding the death of Dr. Goforth, whether I should get a partner or not. My constitution requires an occasional release from the fatigues of practice, and this cannot be had in any other way so well." Under the regimen above described he got better, and in the following winter, at Lexington, was completely restored, regaining his flesh with as much rapidity as he had lost it. When we examine his regimen, it is reduced to three principles ; first, the abstinence from study, which lessened the nervous exhaustion, and allowed the mind time to recruit ; secondly, the dietetic stimulation, by confining himself to meat and taking a little alcohol ; and thirdly, exercise by riding. This corresponds very well with the received theory for the cure of dyspepsia. A modern physician, however, would have substituted brandy for whisky, and informed his patient that it was by no means necessary to be so abstinent from bread. It is to be remarked that the doctor makes no mention of medicine, notwithstanding the common commenda- tion of blue pills and bitters. Several years after this, when he was again attacked, he tried the much talked of white mustard seed, but with no effect. His dys- pepsia gradually wore off, but was alternated with an HIS EEGIMEN AND DIET. 125 oppression on the brain, which, in -several instances, proved dangerous, and finally terminated his life. How- ever numerous (and they are very many) the cases in which the skill of medicine can afford Either relief or cure, it is a reality that it can neither avert disease from human nature, nor prevent its fatality. The immediate effect of the diet and regimen adopted by Dr. Drake, I shall here record for the benefit of those who may be inclined to try the experiment. As he states himself, at the end of six weeks he was consider- ably better, bnt the disease was not cured ; in fact, never cured. At Lexington, however, living a quiet life in cheerful society, he become rapidly better, and writes that '■'•a full diet, exemption from care, and ten hours sleep in the twenty four, and no exercise except that of chewing, seems to have had a general and restora- tive effect on my constitution." Here we find the doctor reversing the whole of his remedial course, and getting well under it ! Can the medical profession explain this? It seems, however, very plain, that the strength of digestion had nearly been restored by his diet and regimen ; but that the conse- quences of that treatment were only visible when he gave freedom to his mind and his appetite. He himself, however, ascribes it to a different cause. "Writing in December, (1817,) he says: "My health has been im- proved very much since we came here. I ascribe it entirely to a complete exemption from tBe fatigues and irregularities of professional life, and hope by the end of the session, to be prepared for resuming my profes- sion. I already weigh an eighth part more than I did last summer, and have not had a paroxysm since I reached Lexington." 126 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. The paroxj'sms of dyspepsia in his case, as in all others, were alike mysterious, irregular, and unaccountable. We know that this disease is attached almost exclusively to persons of sedentary or in-door life. When it occurs in others it is in consequence of great mental anxiety, or of irregular and exhausting habits. I have dwelt on the subject here because it must always be interesting to know how an eminent physician treats this disorder in his own case. I have related previously that the disease recurred to him in years after, when he was again subject to great anxiety and distress of mind, and that he tried the white mustard seed, then so much in vogue. It proved, however, utterly useless, as all mechanical medicines have. After his improvement under the dietetic course, he abandoned his intention of traveling," and his partner- ship with Goforth being terminated by the death of the latter, continued his practice with assiduity and success. It was never greater, and his professional receipts during this season were large. At length, in November, the time came for him to assume the chair of a professor at Lexington. On his arrival there, one of those strange diflSculties occurred, which happen only in the medical profession. One of the four or five professors appointed had not received a regular medical diploma. Two of the professors immediately took the ground that they could not associate with him as teacher without such degree ! Notwithstanding he must have had a decided reputation to have been appointed, and notwithstanding the trustees had endorsed that reputation, and considered him of sufiicient skill to teach others, yet his colleagues took it upon themselves to exclude him by a punctilio ! Dr. Drake seems to have been in favor of his reception, AMBITION AS A TEAOHKE. 127 and accordingly the professor was received, with a sort of protest against such irregularity. Dr. Di-ake was now introduced to a new, and, 1 may add, favorite theater for his intellectual exertions. He frequently said, in after time, that if there was any one thing he had a strong taste and peculiar qualification for, it was tTmt of teaching medicine. He was ambi- tious of being a successful and popular teacher; and this fact is the key to his repeated and often, to himself, disastrous attempts to build up and sustain medical col- leges. To be an eminent and successful teacTier of medicine, he must be in a medical college, and that college must be a reputable and popular one. It could only be so when conducted by men of ability, of genius, learning, and enthusiasm. These are rarely to be found ; while, on the other hand, those who make their profes- sion subsidiary to gain, and who engage in low intrigues for power and place are numerous, and ever in the way of those who are truly loyal to the great ends of science and of usefulness. Hence it was that Dr. Drake, aiming to build up a great institution in the West, which should alike receive from and confer honor on its builders, was so often led into controversy, and dis- appointed in his plan and hope of building up a noble, eminent, and beneficent institution for the study of medi- cine in the metropolis of the Ohio valley. I shall not anticipate his efforts and struggles for that purpose, but accompany him now in his first entrance into the forum of medical instruction — a theater in which he was to act a distinguished part for the next third of a century. The first medical class, which assembled in what was afterwards the great medical school of Lexington, 128 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. consisted of only twenty students. Dr. Drake was Professor of Materia Medica. How he first commenced his preparations as a lecturer I am not informed, but his habit was never to prepare much beforehand ; for he was always too busy to spare much time for the future. Accordingly, he composed nearly, if not quite all, his lectures at Lexington. He said to his brother, "I have made the experiment, and find that I have not impu- dence enough to transcribe, verbatim et literatim, a course of lectures from the books ; I have, therefore, to compose them de novo, and find myself busy enough." No man was more original in his modes of thought, or would be more likely to make a path of his own in lecturing. Writing to another friend, six weeks only after the commencement of the lectures, he said: "My duties in the college occupy me very closely. I have composed three hundred and fifty pages since the lec- tures commenced, and must produce about five hundred more between this and the 1st of March." This is about ten pages of composition to each worhing day! Allowing, as was the case, for a diffuse hand-writing, this was, nevertheless, an extraordinary amount of lite- rary labor to be performed in such a time. Such, how- ever, was his great industry and his fluency of composi- tion, that in many subsequent years he produced, in the form of lectures, speeches, pamphlets, and books, an equal amount of literary work. Thus engaged, in the commencement of his career as a public teacher, with his family around him, and in cheerful, agreeable society, his health improved, his mind expanded, and his ambition formed extensive plans for the future. For some reason, not publicly disclosed, he changed EKSIGNATION OF HIS PE0FES80ESHIP. 129 his views in reference to the school at Lexington. On his first arrival there, he had entered with zeal into the designs of its projectors, and contemplated a return in the following winter. "On the 23d of March, (he writes,) being dissatisfied with the medical college, and not relishing the idea of a removal to a strange town, of prospects inferior to those of Cincinnati, I resigned my professorship." This resignation is the date of his plans of public enterprise for Cincinnati — for the building up of another medical college — and of the eflbrts, labors, controversies, and successes of the next thirty years, which established his own reputation, and did not a little for the remarka- ble growth and prosperity of Cincinnati. A remarkable contrast in the growth of towns is suggested by the remark that Lexington was inferior to Cincinnati. In 1810, Lexington was equal to Cincinnati. In 1814, it was called the Athens of the West, and looked upon as one of the most promising towns which had then begun to dot the valley of the Ohio. Now Cincinnati is a great city, and Lexington little more than a county town. Steam commerce on one hand, and the unceasing eflbrts of such citizens as Dr. Drake, have made the village town of 1810 the Queen City of 1850. In this wonder- ful change, it should never be forgotten that, while the natural advantages of this city are very great, in posi- tion and resources, it has derived its greatest success from the sagacity, labors, zeal, enterprise, and patriotism of citizens who knew how to use them. A community without such citizens may have all the wealth of nature bestowed upon it, but will in vain aspire to anything great in itself or renowned abroad. CHAPTER VI. 1818 — 1822 — Cincinnati in 1818 — Foundation of its Literary- Institutions — Oomraenceraent of its Steamboat Trade and Iron Manufactures — Judge Burnet — Martin Baum — Ethan Stone — Dr. Drake founds the Medical College and Hospital — His Con- troverBies — Is Dismissed from the College and Contemplates Removal. In the spring of 1818 Dr. Drake returned, after his winter's sojourn in Lexington, to his practice in Cincin- nati — now quite extensive. But neither his large business nor his recent arduous labor of composition, nor his domestic cares, abated in the least the activity of his enterprise, or the fertility of his mind, in devising new plans. He saw in the rapid growth of Cincinnati and the Ohio valley, the necessity for new literary, scientific, and benevolent institutions ; and while others were solely bent on increasing their fortunes, he sought to found these institutions, and by promoting the welfare' of society to increase his own fame and usefulness. In re- signing his professorship, he had said that he could not consent to remove pennanently to Lexington, for Cin- cinnati offered far superior advantages. In fact, there was something very exciting and imposing in the rapid and powerful growth of the young metropolis of Ohio. It was no wonder that it stimulated his energies, nor that he reasonably hoped that its growth would promote his own, and enlarge the reputation of whoever should be identified with its early history and progress. Four years previously he had given to the world the " Picture of Cincinnati ; " but now Cincinnati was no 130 mPEOVEMENT OF CINCINNATI. 131 more the same. Four or five years had made great changes. A part of this change he thus describes: " You will infer from this rapid sketch of our literary history, that Cincinnati oontinues to advance. This is so strikingly the case, that if you were here you would per- ceive in its present aspect a great contrast with what it exhibited six years ago. Two steamboats have been completed at this place within the last eight months, and seven more are now on the stocks. The engines for them and all the iron machinery are made at an ex- tensive iron foundry, between our old house and the river. The town generally, has undergone great altera- tions. All the principal streets will in a short time be paved. A horse ferry-boat has been built, and greatly facilitates our intercourse with Newport and Covington. Our two old newspapers have been enlarged to an impe- rial size, and a third will be commenced on Tuesday next." This account suggests a very remarkable transition, whether as connected with its then past, or its future, the present. As a town, Cincinnati had then scarcely fifteen years of existence ; for its real progress did not com- mence till 1805. The steamboats here mentioned had no existence till 1812. Pavements had scarcely been heard of in the war ; and, in fact, the five or six years here mentioned was the period of beginning to nearly all the commercial and manufacturing enterprises of this place. The first steamboat built at Cincinnati was the " Vesta," built in 1816. Two were built in 1817, and in 1818-19 eight were launched. Prior to 1820 there were but eleven steamboats built in Cincinnati. Since then hundreds have been launched, and there are thou- sands of arrivals and departures at this port in each year. 132 LIFE OF HE. DANIEL DRAKE. The mnclune shop of which Pr. Drake speaks, was probably that of Mr. Shields, on the oast, side of Syca- more, between Front and Colnmbia (Second) strofta. About this time a great boiler and foundry establishmnit was erected on the corner of Congress and Liuilow streets, by the firm of "Burnet, Findley & Harrison," then as well known in commercial, as they have been since distinguished in public afl'airs. They should be remembered as much for what they did in business and enterprise, as for what they accomplished in politics, the army, or at the bar. Jhdoe I'uBNET, then, and for a long time, a most ox- tensive and successful practitioner iit the bar, was, allor the war had terminated, and the smiles of poiico and commercial prosperity were renewed, (iiie of the ourlicst to encouriii^o our native manuiiictures, and originate our financial institutions. Ho was one of the original stockholdoi's of the Miami Exporting Ooinpany, in which he held and lost at its winding up a largo numbi'i' of shares. lie was one dl' the original ])n)|iriutor8 of the first iron foundry, of the first sugar refinery, and of the woollen factory. In the disastrous storm of I81!>-'J()-'J I - '22, all these companies were linilvon up, and their property either sold or greatly depreciated. In these various losses his own was full eighty thousand dolhirH, wliicli swept away the accumuluion of twenty years' successful business at the bar. In the nienn time, Ikiw- ever, he had bought several lots in town, and tracts of land in the neighborhood, which, by careful nursing, re- vived and increased his fortune. In 1825, ho parted to the Bank of the United States, for twenty-five thousand dollars, in payment of his debt, one of the most beau- tiful and valuable squares in Cincinnati ; and which MARTIN BAUM. 133 the people were in vain urged to buy at that price for the use of the city. On that square now stands the Burnet House, and the Second Presbyterian Church. The total want of sagacity, as well as economy, mani- fested by city corporations was in this instance most strikingly exhibited. Both Judge Burnet and Dr. Drake, with other enlightened citizens, were in favor of its purchase by the city ; and time has proved the correct- ness of their judgment, and the misfortune of the city, in the loss of what would have been so beautiful and refreshing a spot to its inhabitants. On the breaking up of these establishments, most of the citizens engaged in them ceased to enter into com- mercial or manufacturing business. In fact, many of them had not the means, and such business was foreign to that in which they were engaged. They were some- times reproached in after times by those who had since migrated to the city, with holding themselves aloof from public enterprises ; but in fact they had already done more than those who followed them, and paid their full contribution to the public interest. Among the citizens of this class, who stood foremost in good works, was Maetin Baum, one of the earliest and best merchants of this region. He was a native of Germany, and commenced business in Cincinnati at a very early day, probably in 1800, perhaps earlier. He was nearly thirty years in active mercantile business, having during the whole time the highest reputation for integrity and capacity. He was engaged in the Miami Bank, the sugar refinery, and many other early enter- prises. He was one of the original proprietors of Toledo ; and built in the latter part of his life the fine house on Pike street, now occupied by Nicholas Long- 134 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. ■worth, Esq. Like Judge Burnet, Dr. Drake, and other early founders of the city, he gave his dwelling and surrounding property in payment of his bank debt. He had the perfect confidence of all who knew him, and was one of the most useful and honorable of the early pioneers. The " horse-ferry boat," of which Dr. Drake speaks^ was a great improvement on the previous modes of crossing the river; but how contemptible it seems, in comparison with the seven large steamboats which now cross, at four difierent points! These improvements, however, were real and substantial; The steamboat and the iron foundry mark a great era in the commercial progress of Cincinnati. About this time an equal progress was made in lite- rary and scientific institutions, and in that Dr. Drake had a much larger share — indeed, of them he was the chief founder. Of their beginnings he spoke thus, in June, 1818: "There are, at this very moment, arrange- ments making in Cincinnati that will render its institu- tions, at no distant period, as superior to those of any other town in the West, as its population and trade are pre-eminent. During the last week, $29,000 were sub- scribed, by seven gentlemen,* as a permanent fund for the Lancaster Seminary. This fund will, I have no doubt, be augmented to $40,000 or $50,000, and we may soon expect to see this institution elevated into a respectable college. Within the same week a site for a poor-house has been purchased, in a suitable situation, and the establishment has been planned in a manner that will make it a hospital, the only desideratum to the » Of these were General William Lytle, (one of the pioneers,) Oliver M. Spencer, and John H. Piatt. PUBLIC ENTEEPEISB. 135 formation of a medical college in this p.ace. While these important arrangements were making, a public meeting was held, on the subject of a museum, A society has. been formed, and I confidently expect to see from f 5,000 to $6,000 contributed to that object next week. I have drawn up the constitution in such a manner as to make the institution a complete school for natural history, and hope to see concentrated, in this place, the choicest natural and artificial curiosities in the Western country." All these institutions were, in fact, founded by his own active and untiring energy. He saw the need of them, and be urged on the public spirit to their accom- plishment, while the liberal-minded friends he had raised up around him contributed largely of their means to these objects. He was one of the founders of the Library Society, and now formed the germs of the college, the hospital, the medical school, and the mu- seum, all of which subsequently rose to importance. In what manner he brought them to completion I shall have occasion to relate. In the meanwhile he Was equally active in matters relating to his individual interest. His commercial business was yet alive, and continually increasing. The firm of Isaac Drake & Co. formed a connection with Major Arthur Henrie, and established a branch store at Miamitown, from which they expected large profits. His brother Benjamin was the active member of the mercantile firm, and continued to superintend its afiairs. He, himself, not only had a large practice, but already commenced plans by which he expected to make Cincinnati the site of a larger medical school than could be established at Lexington. Besides the measures described above, be commenced a 136 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DKAKB. course of botanical lectures, to which he had forty-four subscribers. Nor was this all. In conjunction with Dr. Coleman Kogers, M'ho had been his partner in practice while he was at Lexington, and Dr. Black, the Princi- pal of the Lancaster Seminary, he commenced medical lectures to a small class, which in the beginning num- bered twelve. These energetic measures excited a strong sensation at Lexington, among his former col- leagues; and, to prevent the establishment of a rival school in Cincinnati, Dr. Drake was offered the first professorship in Transylvania, if he would remove to Lexington permanently. This he declined; for he already clearly saw the future magnitude and prosperity of Cincinnati, and was unwilling to remove from a rising town to one upon which the shadows were already falling. At this time, for the better health of his family, he removed to " Mount Poverty," as he not inaptly styled his cottage, on the hill-side. This was a log-cabin, sixteen feet square, lined with pine boards, and winged with a kitchen and bedroom, all one story high, and covered with plank. This cottage was placed on the slope of the hill, on the north side of the city, between what is now Sycamore and Broadway continued. The hill was then covered with woods, and separated from the town by near a mile of open space. They who now see it surmounted with houses, while streets and avenues stretch for miles beyond, will hear with astonish- ment that this site should have been deemed a country residence, free from noise and smoke. But so it was ; and there, in the summer of 1818, Dr. Drake took his family for repose and retirement. The actual site of the cabin was on the top of the ridge. It was enveloped VAEIOUS EMPLOYMENTS. 137 by green trees and rank weeds, and although only fifteen minutes ride from his ofiSce in town, could not, for the exuberant foliage, be seen from any point in the plain below. The residence at this spot was no impediment to his business. On the contrary, the better health of his family, and early rising, enabled him to devote his time with renewed assiduity to his multifarious employments. Among these was that of finishing his new house, at the corner of Third and Ludlow streets, which, although begun long before, was not yet completed. Thus, in the summer of 1818, at thirty-three years of age only, we find him, in the midst of professional business, a part- ner in two mercantile establishments, a founder of lite- rary institutions, already projecting the germs of the museum, the hospital, and the medical college, and, as if this was not enough, building a house, and lecturing on botany! In the month of October, he descended from Mount Ppverty, leaving, as he said, the residence, but still followed by the influence of that barren god- dess. He now issued no less than five pamphlets from the press, one of which was his introductory to the lec- tures on botany ; one a programme for the museum so- ciety, and the others were controversial — a part of a pro- longed controversy, which originated in the establishment and contemplation of rival schools of medicine. As I shall give no account of these controversies, which, being personal, local, and ephemeral, have long since lost their interest ; I will substitute Dr. Drake's theory of the cause and frequency of those difficulties which agitate the medical profession. He said it was the only profession which had no ultimate tribunal for the settlement of con- troversies. Clergymen, in all denominations, had some 12 138 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. ecclesiastical tribunal; lawyers had the courts; mer- chants had their chambers of commerce; mechanics had their professional societies; but doctors had no ultimate tribunal — neither courts, nor assemblies, nor boards of ultimate authority. The consequence is, that they continually appeal, in their diflSculties, to the public, and this involves at once personalities, recrimi- nations, charges, and misrepresentations, each of which stands on no other authority than that of the parties themselves, and each of which is believed or disbelieved by difi'erent portions of the community. The result is, that medical quarrels are numerous, and occasion no small acerbity and ill-will in society. This theory of medical controversy is no doubt cor- rect for the most part ; but as the profession rises in moral and intellectual dignity ; as medical societies, guided by the best minds, are formed in various parts of the country ; and, as science on all sides rises in the estimation of the community, and with it elevates the entire civilization — we may hope, not without reason, that medical controversy will cease, at least in its rude fonns, and give place to the kind and courteous manners which should distinguish a great and noble profession. During the several years which followed the commence- ment of this medical controversy. Dr. Drake was fre- quently charged with being ambitious and quarrelsome. The charge of ambition, — " The glorious fault of angels, and of men," may be admitted, and will only redound to his credit. Ambition is a crime only when its object is criminal. Any man may be charged with ambition who devises plans, or institutions, or labors, which are beneficial to his country, his family, or mankind ; but who has ever ME. ETHAN STONE. 139 supposed such plans of usefulness and beneficence to be crimes against society ? Who has not considered such men as the benefactors of their race ? Such were the schemes, as they were sometimes called, of Dr. Drake; and if he sought to identify his own name and interests with the success of these plans for the public benefit, had he not a fair right? So much of selfishness must be allowed to the most benevolent and public-spirited of men, unless we would take from character all its indi- viduality, and from the human mind its most efficient stimulus. The charge of " quarrelsome," was not true in any sense. No difficulty arose involving him which he did not wish settled peacefully and quickly. His mind was scientific, not controversial, and all his interests required that he should be on good terms with as many people as possible. His plans were for the public benefit, to be carried out by public means. It required that he should make friends and disarm opposition ; and this he did so successfully that no man had, in the time in which it was exerted, more influence with the people, the Legisla- ture, the medical profession at large, and the circle of his private friends. The latter embraced most of the worthy and intelligent citizens, especially of the pioneer race. They knew him best, and valued him most. Some of these 1 have already mentioned, and others will come within the scope of this memoir. Among them was one who, with his excellent wife, were among his earliest and latest patients — who at this time gave him aid in busi- ness, and at all times was his ardent friend. He has been now some years dead, and deserves mention and memory for his public services. This was Ethan Stone, a native of New Hampshire, but for near fifty years a citizen of 140 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DRAKE. Oincinnati. Mr. Stone was a lawyer by profession, but ceased the active practice of the law tliirty yuars boloio his death. Ho was a man of iiigh iutoUigoncu, of sound judgment, and of signal integrity ; a man who chose to do right rather than to seek popularity by courting the multitude ; a man of worth, a good citizen, and an invaluable friend. Mr. Stone was an early and great admirer of John Mansfield, of whom I have spoken, and he. Dr. Drake, and other young mun, were in the circle of visitors at his hospitable house. Mr. Stone and Dr. Drake sympathized together in the loss of their common friend, and the harmony of their sympathies and interests was never interrupted. Mr. Stone was in some things a remarkable man. llo ■was equally firm, upright, and philosophical. One incii- deut deserves mention for the business moral it conveys. He had made a contract with the Commissioners of Hamilton county to build a bridge over Mill Creek. The contract i'e(iiiirod that the bridge should stand a certain kmgth of time before the Commissioners would receive it, in order to test its strength. Mr. Stone built the bridge at great cost, and the time was near when it was to be delivered. But a most extraordinary ilood occurred in the Ohio waters. Mill Crook rose with great suddenness to an unusual iioiglit. The bridge was entirely carried away. Mr. Stone lost nearly all hia property. The next day he wrote to his brother in Now Hampshire, "Last night the wind apd flood carried away all my fortune. To-day Ethan must go to work again ! " An energy — a spirit like this, with an equal integrity possessed by men of business, would disarm adversity of its power, and take from misfortune its gloomy frown. DEATH OF ME. ETHAN STONE. 141 Mr. Stone did go to work again, and retrieved his for- tune so that he died a wealthy man. It took twenty years — many of which he passed in comparative obscurity at his cottage in the country — to re-establish himself, so that he could return with pleasure to his former habits and associations. The intermediate time had caused a great change in the fortunes of the city. Long after the time of which I speak, he repurchased a small part of his old homestead in the town, for a price at least five fold that for which he had parted with it in pay- ment of debt ; and now it is worth three times as much as even that. He had built for the time, an elegant mansion at the corner of Fourth and Vine streets, then a retired situ- tion. He returned to it while it was yet only a site for residences ; and now it is no longer a place for dwellings. It is the center of business activity. Stores, custom houses, markets, and all the noise, and whirl, and throng of a commercial metropolis are around it, pouring along in a ceaseless current. Mr. Stone closed his honorable life in peace ; and the strong and simple, firm and plain granite rock placed upon his grave, is no inapt representation of his character. At the period at which I now write, we see Dr. Drake most earnestly and actively employed in rearing, sustain- ing, and enlarging the literary and scientific institutions of Cincinnati.. He had relinquilhed all idea of renew- ing his connection with Ti'ansylvania University at Lex- ington, and bent his mind on establishing in Cincinnati a medical school, surrounded by such attributes and social helps, as would make it superior to anything in the West, and Cincinnati the center of science and literature. The idea was a good one, the plan pati'iotic and benevolent ; 142 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. and he sacceeded chiefly by his own individual energy, in carrying it into practical execution. The failures were such only as arose from the imperfections of human agen- cies, and the hostility excited by jealous rivals. So far as depended on him, more than all he intended was done. In 1818, as we have seen, he devised the plan of the col- lege, the medical school and hospital. But to create these needed charters from the Legislature ; and in the winter of 1818-19 he proceeded personally to procure them. He visited Columbus, and laid his views before the mem- bers of the Legislature. They were adopted at once, and charters were granted for Cincinnati College, (to be formed out of the Lancaster Seminary ; ) for the Medical College, and the Commercial College, to be connected with the Medical School, but managed by the Township Trustees of Cincinnati. Nor was he satisfied with char- ters only. He procured, in the original acts of incorpo- ration, an endowment sufficient to put them in opera- tion. The Commercial Hospital was endowed with one-fourth the auction duties of Cincinnati, which in time came to be a large amount. By contract with the Secretary of the Treasury, it also became the Marine Hospital of the United States, for the reception of sick seamen, who paid for their support. In this way the hospital was well supported, and has since grown up into great importance. The professors of the Medical College were ex officio its physicians, so that full oppor- tunity was aflbrded the students to witness clinical practice, and obtain subjects for dissection. Eeturning to Cincinnati in the spring of 1819, Dr. Drake found all the elements of scientific and social in- stitutions, necessary to the success of his plans, for the promotion of the public prosperity, and his own reputa- ESTABLISHMENT OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 143 tion. The public mind was willing and liberal. The Legislature had granted charters. Endowments, far greater in proportion to the age of the country than New England could boast, had been already secured.* There wanted but one thing, and danger from that quarter he had not, apprehended. He only wanted men who had the spirit and the capacity to co-operate with himself in schemes of public enterprise. He never anti- cipated the difficulties which human infirmities present to human improvement. He had learned much of the finer sensibilities and emotions of our nature ; but had yet to handle the untempered mortar of its depravity. Some one has given to the world the much quoted maxim, " principles — not men ; " but a much wiser head amended it by saying, " principles cmd men." All of human enterprise must be carried on by human hearts and hands, and when these fail — all fails. When the right skill or motive is wanting in the agents employed, it is in vain that we have planned wisely, or intended nobly. The good which is intended, and which has be- come actually possible, is rejected like the grace of God, for no reason that we know of, except that it is a good freely offered to those who either do not comprehend, or are unwilling to receive it. It is so with the best plans for the public improvement. Enterprises which are to increase the knowledge of science, refine the taste, and soften the grossness of manners, are precisely those which are perverted or rejected by human selfishness. Dr. Drake's plans for the advancement of society by these institutions did not fail; but they involved this * Yale College commenced with an endowment of a few books, by a dozen poor clergymen. See Stiles' History, 144 LIFE OF DE. DANnSL DRAKE. portion of his life in more of disappointment, of contro- versy, and of care and pain, than he oxporiunced at any other time. His boat, though launched at first on obscure and uncertain seas, had held its course bravely over the waves. Prosperous gales had filled its sails. The billows had risen against it only to be surmounted, and the open sea and distant haven lay brightly in his sight. In fine, with original strength of character, with noble aspirations, and upright purposes, he had come naturally into association with the best portion of so- ciety, had imbibed a patriotic spirit, and cherished a generous ambition. He had arrived at thirty -five years of age, and had accomplished labors, and obtained a success which, in that time, is rare for any professional man in civil life. He was now, not indeed to be turned back in his career, but to experience reverses and disap- pointments which he had not thought possible. Here it is proper to notice those qualities and habits of mind by which he obtained success. Success is not, what the world thinks it, a test of merit; but it is a test of certain attributes of character by which it is made possible. The active qualities of mind in Dr. Drake, previous to this period, were a taste for nature, which conse- quently made his observation keen and accurate, great intellectual energy, untiring application to the objects of his pursuit, quick sensibilities, which made him enter heartily into sympathy with his friends, and an elevated ambition. His original taste for nature, and his quick- ness of perception and sensibility, united to constitute what the world calls genius, which is at last but a term invented to express an original strength of mind, directed by a peculiar sensibility to certain objects. DIFFICULTIES OF DE. DEAKE. 145 Among these attributes, however real may have been his genius, or acute his perceptions, the most available •were his energy and industry, and in these he was scarcely equaled. He was neither to be exhausted, nor turned aside. With these qualities, he possessed a genial and kindly spirit, which entered warmly and cheerfully into the aSairs of society, friends, and family. Such was Dr. Drake at thirty-five, when the fires of ambition had excited his energies — when he had 'become one of the most prominent citizens, and acquired a wide andTarilliant reputation. The multifarious employments into which he had so zealously entered had, however, already begun to task his powers, and teach him the wearisome exactions of professional and public life. In one of his letters, dated October, 1819, he says: "I have more than once told you how I regretted that my engagements and pursuits have multiplied so much as to materially interfere with my social relations, and fear- iully to abridge the hours which ought to be spent in devotion before the shrine of friendship. When I shall extricate myself from these enemies of social enjoyment, I cannot predict. The ties which bind me to the world at large seem every day to increase in strength and numbers. The crowd of mankind with whom I have some direct or indirect concern, thickens around me, and I see but little prospect of more leisure, nor any of retirement and seclusion." Such was his own sense of the burdens which his public spirit, as well as his professional life, had im- posed. For the next twenty years that burden was not diminished, but rather increased, by the additional weight of disappointments which he had not foreseen, and adversities which he could not prevent. 13 146 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKH. One of the earliest of these was the diflSculty and delay in organizing the medical college. Two or three leading medical men, either because they desired the control of the new institution, or were jealous of him, interfered in such a way as to occasion an active and bitter controversy. His rivals had so successfully in- trigued as to prevent the organization in the winter of 1819-20, The medical college was so dear to his heart, that this in itself was a severe disappointment, and he writes then : " You will see, by the newspapers, that the medical college will not be organized this winter. This to me is a sore disappointment, and no slight mortifica- tion. The publication alluded to will give but an inade- quate idea of the intrigues of Dr. B , and of the conduct which led to our failure. I do not, however, despair, for the object is one so dear to me that I shall relinquish it with the greatest reluctance, and not till it becomes, in my own estimation, absolutely hopeless, which God forbid that it ever should." In his mind, it never became hopeless, and the last official act of his life was to accept, for the fourth or fifth time, a chair in the Medical College of Ohio. The intrigues of Dr. B , mentioned above, to control the new college in its commencement, and those of Dr. Coleman Eogers, about the same time, were the germs of all the personal controversies in which Dr. Drake was ever engaged. They all turned on one fact — the efibrts of others to get possession and control of an institution which he had founded and labored for, and which he naturally thought he had a ri<,'lit to influence. It was his own offspring, and he contended for it as the parent does for the child. lu consequence of the difficulties and controversies MEDICAL COLLEGE OF OHIO. 147 •which thus arose out of a defective charter and personal intrigues, the Medical College of Ohio was not organ- ized, as it ought to have been, in time for a session during the winter of 1819-20. But in January, 1820, it was organized, and a circular issued to the public. This circular announced that the " Medical College of Ohio is at length organized, and that full courses of lectures on the various branches of the profession will be delivered in the ensuing winter (that of 1820-21). The assignment of the different departmenta for the first session will be as follows, viz : The Institdtbs and Practice of Medicine,! including Obstetrics and the Diseases of> Daniel Drake, M. D. Women and Children. ) Anatomy and Surqeet, Jesse Smith, M. D. Materia Medioa and Pharmacy, Benjamin S. Bobber, M. D. Chemistry, Elijah Slack, A. M., President of Cincinnati College. Assistant in Chemistry, Robert Best, Curator of the Western Museum. "Medical Jurisprudence will be divided among the professors, according to its relations with the different branches which they teach. "After the termination of the session, should a suffi- cient class be constituted, a course of Botanical Leo- TCTEEs will be delivered, in which the leading object will be to illustrate the Medical Botany of the United States." * Having thus announced the first session of the Medi- cal College of Ohio, which was in every sense his own offspring, the doctor, (for the circular was his,) proceeded to give some of the reasons why it was needed, and should be successful, at Cincinnati. * This quotation is made from the original manuscript. 148 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DRAKE. "The considerations," he said, "which originally sug- gested the establishment of a medical college, and which doubtless induced the General Assembly to give its sanction, were — first, the obvious and increasing neces- sity for such an institution in the Western country ; and secondly, the peculiar fitness and advantages of this city for the successful execution of the project. These are, its central situation, its northern latitude, its easy water communications with most parts of the Western country', and, above all, the comparatively numerous population. This already exceeds ten thousand — more than double the number of any other inland town in the new States j and, from the facility of emigrating to it by water, the proportion of indigent immigrants is unusually great.* The professors placed on this ample theater will, there- fore, have numerous opportunities of treating a great variety of diseases, and thus be able to impart those principles and rules of practice which are framed from daily observations on the peculiar maladies which the student, after the termination of his collegiate course, will have to encounter. " The same state of things has compelled the guardians of the poor to assemble their sick into one edifice, and thus to lay the foundation of a permanent hospital, the care of which is confined to one of the professors. In this hospital, which is at no time without patients, the students will have many opportunities of hearing clinical » This -was a most prophetic remark. Foreign paupers have poured in upon us by thousands, and the annual reports of the Cin- cinnati Infirmary show that more than three-fourths of the multi- tude who are provided for there are foreigners, mostly recent comers. It is a benefit to hospital practice, but a burden and expense on the city. MEDICAL COLLEGE OF OHIO. 149 lectures, and of witnessing illustrations of the various doctrines which are taught in this college. "Finally, every medical man will perceive that, amidst so mixed and multiplied a population, the opportunities presented to the Western student for the study of prac- tical anatomy, will altogether transcend any which he can enjoy, without visiting and paying tribute to the schools of the Atlantic States." , Such were the arguments, and they must be admitted to be valid and strong, which Dr. Drake adduced to prove Cincinnati a highly favorable position for a suc- cessful medical school. That the Ohio Medical College has not since equaled the expectations of its founders, must be attributed to other causes than any want of ad- vantages in the place, society, or laws. The real causes were the dissensions of the medical profession, and the consequent opposition of a large party, both in the pro- fession and society, to the plans and success of the actual founder and most eminent teacher of the medical college. This opposition for a long time disheartened him, and defeated his purposes, and, in its effects, reacted upon the institution most signally and forcibly. In the meanwhile, however, the new medical school went into operation, and the doctor began to brighten at its prospects, and to be hopeful of his own extended reputation and usefulness. There was, however, in this fair fabric, a germ of mischief and decay. The intrigues of Dr. B had not merely delayed the organization of the school for a year, but it had separated Dr. Drake from his former partner. Dr. Rogers, and caused him and several other physicians to form a cabal, whose object was the overthrow of Dr. Drake and his plans, or, in equal consistency with the selfishness of human 150 LITB OF DE. DANIEL DEAKK. nature, to displace him from his office and share his practice. This cabal did not immediately succeed, nor its originators ever; but it laid the foundation for the successive revolutions and overthrows in the medical college, and for most of the controversies, disappoint- ments, and vexations to -which Dr. Drake was subse- quently subjected. Amidst these slumbering elements of discontent and opposition, the college commenced its operations. Two of its professors, Drs. Bohrer and Smith, had been imported from the Atlantic States — a process which, though sometimes successful, is oftener attended with disappointment. This was one cause of difficulty. There was another inherent in the organization of the institution, and which would probably have been fatal to any similar enterprise. This was that, by the original law or charter, the professors were both professors and trustees — the appointing power, and the judges of their own conduct. This gave unlimited opportunity and power for any two of the professors to intrigue against the others, and to execute their own will. They must have been the most amiable and disinterested of men, if, under the temptation of a higher post or greater gain, this did not take place. In fact, it did occur immedi- ately, and two of the professors named in the original charter, Drs. Eogers and Brown, had to be removed before the faculty could be even organized. At length, having lost a year, it was organized, in the manner I have related. By law, Dr. Drake was the President of the Faculty, and Professor of Theory and Practice. He issued an elaborate circular, from which I have quoted, and in the winter of 1821-22, the Medical College of Ohio held its first session. HIS EXPULSION FKOM COLLEGE. 151 After one session the same intrinsic defect of organi- zation occasioned another rupture. Occupying, by law and by talent, the first place in the institution, it was less singular that he should have been an object of jealousy to his colleagues, than that they should have been willing to exhibit that jealousy in public acts of ingratitude, if not indecency towards the founder of the college. Human nature is, however, seldom restrained in the pur- suit of its interests by considerations of propriety. The colleagues of Dr. Drake were resolved to get him out of the way ; and they efiFected their purpose by the power of appointment given in the charter to the professors. He was regularly expelled from the institution he had really created. Such an act shocked the public mind, and is an illustration of the loose morals, as well as bitter controversy, not uncommon in the medical profession. The expulsion of Dr. Drake may be said to have ter- minated the first period in the history of the Medical College. In its original form and organization it was now destroyed. From the first to the last hour of its ex- istence in that shape, the self-appointing and expelling power vested in the faculty, was a continual source of difficulty and disaster, finally terminating in an utter disruption. Dr. Jesse Smith attempted to carry on a course of lectures in the following winter, but with only one colleague, a handful of pupils, and no reputation. In fact, the college was exploded. Irritated by what he thought imdeserved hostility, and disappointed in his hopes of a great medical school in Cincinnati, Dr. Drake wrote his " Narrative of the Eise and Fall " of the Medi- cal College of Ohio. It was written with force and point ; but being wholly controversial, I leave it to that oblivion which he himself desired for all that was said 152 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DRAKE. or done, tending to estrange him from iiis fellow men. He lived to be at peace with those who survived those scenes, and time has healed dissensions which then, and long after, seriously affected the society of Cincinnati. The time had now come when, for once only in his long citizenship, he hesitated about remaining here. He had given the energies of twenty years quite as much to the public as himself. The growth of the town was in no small degree due to the "Picture of Cincinnati," which spread abroad the knowledge of its superior ad- vantages. The taste for literature and science, which had begun to spring up, was chiefly excited and kept alive by himself. The laws instituting the college, the medical school, and the hospital, were procured by him. The endowment, not an inconsiderable one, was mostly due to his exertions. He had talked, written, labored and formed plans for Cincinnati, identifying in his own mind (and who would not?) his own fame with the growth and glory of the institutions he founded. But now the scene was changed. His reasonable ambition was charged against him as a fault, or a crime. He was expelled from the Medical College. He was bitterly op- posed by many of his Own profession — recent comers, who probably owed to his writings any knowledge of Cincinnati. Finally, the commercial disasters of the times swept over the "West, and afi^ected him, as thoy did others, with losses and disappointments. His commer- cial speculations were a failure ; his purchase of goods in the East, with such high expectations of profit, turned out unfortunately. The business of Isaac Drake & Co. had to be wound up, and the drug establishment passed into the sole hands of his brother Benjamin. The bright pictures of his imagination faded away, and even his HE CONTEMPLATES GOING TO PHILADELPHIA. 153 sanguine spirit drooped, as it beheld the ruin of bo many fair fabrics, from which he had anticipated so much of advantage to himself and society. In this condition of disaster and disappointment, he cast about for something in the future. It was no longer a case of ambition, but an effort for comfortable main- tenance and professional success. His practice had been very extensive, and apparently lucrative ; but in settling up his books he struck off no less than six hundred names, from whom he expected nothing, and found hundreds remaining, from whom he received nothing. In fine, he must now look to the profit as well as extent of his practice ; and look to his professional exertions alone as the source of pecuniary advantage. When in Philadelphia he had been much pleased with the profession and society of that place. He now made inquiries as to his own prospects should he remove there, and was told, by the most intelligent persons, that his success was certain. He accordingly wrote to his old friends in the East, that he had determined on removing to Philadelphia. This was his determination at that time ; but events soon arose which opened the way to his favorite pursuit, medical teaching, and fixed him for the residue of his life to the home of his choice and his love, on the banks of the Ohio. This reversal of a hasty judgment was, in all aspects fortunate ; for he was in all respects an offspring and growth of the Western country, and while he would have been successful and admired in any society — would have been less useful, less iden- tified with its interests, and less happy in his own mind, whose genial spirit and intellectual activities needed the expansion and excitement of a new country. Besides all this, the mingling of commercial with professional 154 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. business had been one of the chief causes of his diflS- culties and disasters ; and this being now removed, he had here a full opportunity of pursuing a literary and scientific career, a wide and coroparatively unoccupied field. Thus ended the year 1822, which may be regarded as a crisis in his life, and from whose gloom and shadow he emerged through sucessive struggles, to a wider reputation and more successful enterprises. CHAPTEE VII. 1822 — 1825 — ^Dr. Drake accepts a Professorship in Transylvania Uni- versity — Its Condition and Prospects — Its Professors — Dr. Drake's Success — Downfall of the Literary Department — Mr. Holley — Poli- tics of the Day — Dr. Drake supports Mr. Clay for the Presidency —Writes "76 " Letter on Clay's Vote — Interview at Lebanon with Clay and Clinton — Characteristics of Clay, Clinton, Adams, and Calhoun — Dr. Drake Journeys in the Miami Valley — Death of Mrs. Drake — Anniversary Hymn to her Memory. The Medical College of Ohio was revived in the fol- lowing year under new auspices. The defects of its organization were corrected. The Legislature appointed a board of trustees, of which ^Jeneral Harrison was President, and in whom was vested the power of appoint- ment and dismissal of professors. Dr. Drake, however, had already signified his willingness to accept a profes- sorship in Transylvania University, and to that he was appointed in the summer of 1823. In October he re- moved there with his family, and commenced a career of medical teaching in that school, which continued for many years, and which was eminently successful, both for the school and himself. The medical school at Lex- ington, in the course of about thirty years, rose to great prosperity, and subsequently declined so rapidly as to be a remarkable example in the vicissitudes attendant upon American literary institutions. It is not evident how much the individual reputation of its professors may have had to do with its progress, nor how much the re- moval of some of them may have afl'ected its declension ; but it is certain, the accession of Dr. Drake at this time greatly aided its prosperity. There were more than twenty 155 156 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DRAKE. students there from Ohio; and his private class was among the largest in the institution. In the previous year there had been some one hundred and forty stu- dents ; now the dean of the faculty reported two hundred and one metriculated students. This school of medicine had now taken the lead of any in the "West. The schools since founded at Louisville and St. Louis, did not exist ; and the new Medical College of Ohio had not re- vived from its utter prostration by the removal of Dr. Drake. In fact, that blow was not only hard upon him, but as thirty years subsequent experience proved, was fatal to the prospects of that institution. The opportunity of seizing the vantage ground was lost, and Lexington, Louisville, and St. Louis, rose in succession as successful rivals to what might have been the great central school of medicine in the valley of the Mississippi. The tide which, taken at its flood, leads on to fortune, flows not only to individual men, but to states, cities, and institu- tions. This tide, neglected and sufiered to glide by, returns no more; and, as if indignant at the slight, flows on to more sagacious and more gratefiil communi- ties. Cincinnati seized the tide of prosperity in com- merce and has gone on to wealth and greatness ; but with the exception of a few zealous and disinterested in- dividuals, it has neglected its opportunities for becoming a great center of science, art, and literature. These may come in other generations, but they will come only as the appendages of commerce, when they should have grown up as a part of the very body of society. To have made them such was the intention, and would have been the effect of the plan of Dr. Drake. The college, the mu- seum, the medical school, the hospital — though not all that would have been required — were a broad founda- TEANSTLTANIA UNITEESITY. 157 tion for a noble superstructure, devoted to social science and intellectual improvement. We have seen how per- sonal rivalries, jealousies, and selfishness — those enemies of all public good — converted that foundation into ruins ; and now, when their founder was exiled, they languished and struggled during the next twenty years, though a bare existence. It had been said that Dr. Drake's " quarrels " were the cause of the diflSculties ; but he was now at Lexing- ton, surrounded by men from all parts, and some of them not of the mildest temper, yet he passed through the ex- citement of his several subsequent winters with no quarrel — in harmony with all his colleagues — and a peace- maker among contending parties. In this very winter there were three controversies, some between professors and students, and among professors and citizens, in all of which he was an arbitrator and a peace-maker. In all this he had undoubtedly learned something from experi- ence, and exercised a proper degree of prudence and discretion in his intercourse with men. His conduct was dignified and exemplary, while his professional abilities extended his reputation, and gave him, as a physician and teacher, a high position in the country. At this time Transylvania University aimed at a splendid success, and there were some reasons to believe such a career for it not impossible. Lexington was large and sociable — a very agreeable place. Mr. Clay, the statesman of Kentucky, lived there. The University had an ample charter and large endowments, and it had now formed classes in law, medicine and the arts. Among its professors were men of brilliant talents and wide reputation. Mr. Holley was then President — a man distinguished for his oratory, his elegance, and his 158 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DKAZE. literature ; Judge Bledsoe, one of the law professors, was an able man ; Dr. Caldwell was widely known as a man of genius, of letters, and of medicine ; Dr. Brown was eminent in his profession ; Dr. Dudley, then and since, was known throughout the country as a great surgeon ; and, finally. Dr. Drake united the qualities of genius, energy, and professional ability. Altogether a greater array of strength, of brilliant talents, and wide repu- tation has scarcely ever been collected at one time, and in one institution. It was not unreasonable, then, to an- ticipate for Transylvania the greatest success. The subsequent history of the university proved, however, the failure of these expectations, and that neither talents, endowments, or charters, can give success to a school for the education of youth, without the higher qualities of religious principle and sound morals. The medical school continued for many years in successful progress ; but the university, as suph, was completely overthrown. The cause was simple, and will always work the same effect. The religious public, who are alone the efficient supporters of collegiate education, found that Transyl- vania, in its literary department, was what they deemed irreligious. They withdrew their support, and the institution fell. President Holley, a fine orator and an elegant man, was a New England Unitarian, who, after his removal to the West, carried his views to the border, if not within the limits, of infidelity. He appeared, in the pulpit, as a minister of the gospel, but was so ultra liberal as to sneer at both the theory and the practice of what is deemed orthodox Christianity. This was not at first known, but as it became revealed, the religious part of the trustees and the public were alarmed. Mr. FACULTY OF TKANSTLVANIA UKIVEESITX. 159 HoUey was charged, before the public, with his religious heresy and his irreverent conduct. A part of the trus- tees resigned. The Legislature stepped in to create a new board, for the purpose of examination and correc- tion. The result was, HoUey resigned. The university was remodeled, and has undergone various transforma- tions. But, in the meanwhile, the Presbyterian in- fluence was turned to the establishment of the college at Danville, which has gradually grown up to be an impor- tant and useful institution. Thus the literary glory of Transylvania departed, and its brilliant prospects were obscured. It was difierent, however, with the medical school. There was no religious heresy there to impair the confi- dence of the public, and happily the professors were not only able men, but were harmonioiis among themselves. The faculty, at the time of Dr. Drake's arrival, consisted of himself, Dr. Dudley, Dr. Caldwell, Dr. Richardson, Dr. Brown, and Dr. Blythe. The chair of Theory and Practice was held by Dr. Brown, and that of Surgery by Dr. Dudley. The chair of Materia Medica was assigned to Dr. Drake. He commenced his new labors in November, 1823, and was regularly inaugurated into his professorship with university formalities. These preliminary exercises, with other professional engage- ments, again imposed upon him much labor. He thus speaks of them: "I have for the last month been engaged to the most intense degree — first in attendance on some distant patients, afterwards in the preparation of an introductory lecture, and a Latin address, to be delivered in reply to the President, on my inauguration. This took place on Friday, the 7th instant, in the chapel of the university. The oath of office was administered 160 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. publicly, by the Chairman of the Board of Trustees. The President of the University then addressed me in the Latin language, and I responded to him. Immedi- ately afterwards I delivered my introductory. I was far from being well in health, and not a little agitated." Both these efforts were well received. His introductory was on the " necessity and value of professional indus- try," and although he did not estimate it very highly himself, yet the class appointed a committee to have it published, to which he consented. In the commencement of his professional duties, he prepared an entirely new set of lectures, and, in addi- tion to this, gave a large share of time to a private class of pupils. To these he gave a lecture and an examina- tion twice a day, on all the branches of the profession, and made them discuss subjects by debate. He was now in a pursuit to which his nature and taste inclined him. He often declared that if he had a natural taste for any pursuit, it was for that of teaching medicine. He was now in a large school, and had, besides, a private class, and all the avenues of teaching his profession were open before him. The labor and assiduity required were immense; but they were pleasant to him, and the winter flowed on more peacefully and cheerfully to hini, than had any one in several years. For five years he had been harassed by various duties, by ambitious enter- prises, by commercial embarrassments, and vexatious controversies in his profession. He was now relieved, at least from the sight and responsibility of the difBcul- ties and controversies he left behind, and enjoyed a period of rest and peace. Time passed away, and in March the graduating class at Lexington numbered DE. drake's success. 161 forty-seven, a larger class than had ever graduated in the West. The summer of 1824, Dr. Drake spent chiefly at ^ Lexington, or in the neighborhood, much employed in the practice of his profession, and, when he could find time, in short journeys with his family. His eldest child, Charles, (the present Charles D. Drake, Esq., of St. Louis,) was at school in Bardstown. He had patients to visit in Frankfort, and his parents and brother were in Cincinnati — thus affording him an opportunity of relaxation, while pursuing the duties of business and afiFection. ' This relaxation he greatly needed; for, not- withstanding his apparent recovery from dyspepsia, it revisited him at times with great severity. About this time also commenced a series of attacks in the head, which he described as a determination of blood to that organ. These were often very severe, and the remedy — bleeding — was almost equally so. This complaint he thought constitutional, and in some degree probably was. But all who have either observed or experienced the effects of arduous study and close confinement, know that such are the penalties paid by literary men for their eelf-imposed labors and sedentary habits. The session of 1824-5, in the Lexington school, opened with a still greater success than had attended the last. In December, (1824,) there were no less than two hundred and thirty-four bona fide pupils, and Dr. Drake's private class was fifty-seven in number. To his private class he paid great attention.. He devoted much time to them, and his examinations were system- atic, connecting physiology with anatomy, and pathology with physiology. 14 162 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. , In the summer of 1824, Dr. Brown had gone to Europe, and requested Dr. Drake, if he should not arrive in time, to lecture in his place. Accordingly, Dr. Drake delivered twenty-six lectures for him. Of these he said — "I taught that local diseases became general, by dependence of function^ and by nervous and vascular connection ; and that sympathy is a func- tion of the nervous system. I have taught the same more minutely to my private pupils, and laboriously directed their attention to the distribution and physi- ology of the nerves. This had involved me with the Professor of the Institutes ; and we have had two meet- ings in the medical society, and are likely to have many more." The Professor of the Institutes here alluded to was Dr. Caldwell, with whom he had, then and in many subsequent years, both in Lexington and Louisville, many friendly contests. Dr. Caldwell was thought, by himself and admirers, to be a man of genius. He was certainly one who had performed much literary labor, was distinguished in his profession, and Widely known to the public. But, with this, he was eccentric in some things, and erratic in his views, embracing readily opinions and theories which are very slowly received, if at all, by men of exact science. His theories of phre- nology, of disease, of spontaneous vegetation, etc., were among those which he held as truths, but are as firmly discredited by others. I am incompetent to judge him ; but he had one merit which few have. He was too fair minded to treat a criticism as an insult, and too amiable to convert differences of opinion into causes of personal offense. Hence, he and Dr. Drake were on friendly and intimate terms, though holding many an intellectual tournament about their respective views and opinions. DEBATE WITH DE. CALDWELL. 163 These generally occurred in the medical debating society. Of one, Dr. Drake gives the following humor- ous account, which, although ex parte, I presume to be tolerably correct : " On Friday night, after you left this, my learned friend, Professor Caldwell, came forward with his heavy artillery, and opened an uninterrupted fire of two hours and twenty minutes upon one of the bastions of my little fortress. I began to return his fire, loading my blunderbuss with facts and quotations from many substantial works, obtained from the library which ?ie selected in Europe. It being late, the society adjourned. Last Friday night, I mounted the batteiy and returned his fire for two hours and thirty minutes. At ten, he commenced another cannonading, and continued it for forty-five minutes. My batteries were silenced. The question was, whether plants grew up without seeds, cuttings, or sprouts. I had asserted they do not, and this led to the bombarding. The doctor, in his last words, declared that my ' learned, ingenious, ardent, and eloquent speech ' was lost upon him, for I had mistaken the matter in dispute between us." I must now turn from the professional career of Dr. Drake to other elements in his character, of a more general nature; and to others again more profoundly afiecting his inner life. In social interests, whether of the family, the community, or the country, he had the most lively and earnest sympathy. Hence, he could not look upon public aifairs with indifi'erence. I have related how strongly his feelings were engaged in the war of 1812, in which many of his friends were per- sonally involved. These events led him to sympathize with the Republican party, and, as a "Western man, fa- vorable to "Western interests, with the great leader of that 164 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. party from the West — Mr. Olay. When now he was thrown into the same social circle, with one whose ad- dress was fascinating, and towards whom he was already favorably disposed, it was quite natural that he should adopt the same political views, and look to the same po- litical objects. Accordingly, when in the winter of 1823- 24, the friends of several eminent statesmen urged their respective claims for the Presidency, Dr. Drake unhesi- tatingly took the part of Mr. Olay, as the man among those most likely to be successful, whose views of public policy were most favorable to Western interests. In April, 1824, he wrote a series of papers on the " Presi- dency," which were published in the Cincinnati Gazette, and signed "Seventy-Six." Their author was, I believe, unknown at the time, but they were widely circulated, and written with more than common vigor. The style and argument of these papers may be known by a few para- graphs of the second number, which I shall quote. Speaking of the Presidency, he says: "Among the candidates for this oflSce, I prefer Mr. Clay. Could Mr. Clinton have been put in nomination, or that of Mr. Calhoun been sustained,* my preference might have been less exclusive ; for these distinguished citizens are with Mr. Clay in their political principles. As it is, the friends of internal improvement must rest their hopes upon that gentleman, and happily all who have studied his character as a statesman, may do it with perfect con- fidence. The traits of that character are too strong, and «In 1824, Mr. Callioun was put forward for the Presidency, and strongly supported in Pennsylvania and Oonneetiout. He was very popular in most of the Nothern States. As Doctor Drake remarks above, Messrs. Clinton, Clay, and Calhoun then stood on the same na- tional platform, being favorable to the tarifif and internal improvement. SUPPORTS MR. OLAY FOB THE PEESIDENOT. 165 have been too strikingly exhibited, to be misunderstood. He has been a public servant for twenty years. The duties assigned him have not been performed in an ob- scure corner of the Eepublic, or at a foreign court. His chief scene of action has been the House of Eepresenta-. tives, decidedly the hest saJiool for a statesman lohioh the country affords. Among the numerous actors in that great theatre, he has long been prominent, as an independent and enlightened patriot, a vigilent sentinel of Republican principles, an eloquent and able advocate of that system of policy, by which only the nation can be rendered strong in its resistance to attack from with- out, or from factions within." In subsequent paragraphs he maintained that a states- man bred in the West, must, from his very position and experience, be better qualified for the Presidency than one from the East or the South. He argued that they had peculiar interests, as well of commerce as of planting; but in the valley of the Mississippi were united, by necessity, all the interests of agriculture, com- merce, and manufactures. Proceeding with this argu- ment, he said " that a Western politician, schooled only in the West, would of necessity embrace in his code of political economy, all the interests of the Union. Such a statesman should be regarded as peculiarly fitted for the administration of the federal government. That government rests Tipon concessions and compromises. Every State has interests that are in some degree at vari- ance with every other. It was designed that the federal administration should reconcile these contrarieties, and maintain the confederacy by exacting from all the parts the sacrifices required by the constitution, while it se- cured to all the benefits contemplated by the venerated 166 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DBAKK. authors of that admirable compact. Now, whatever might be the strength of mind and the attainments of a President of the United States, if his previous pursuits and his opportunities for observation had not permitted him to bok with an equal eye upon every State, and every interest, he would be found deficient, in a most important quality, for the office of Chief Magistrate. The advocates for the election of Mr. Clay need not dread the comparison which, in these points, he would make with &jay one of the rival candidates. Indeed, it may be fearlessly asserted that, in this indispensable qualification for the Presidency, he is without a rival." " SEVENTY-SIX." These articles were far beyond the common average of political essays, in both thought and style. But, un- fortunately for the objects of the writer, men judge of the qualifications necessary for a President by their feelings and their interests, rather than by what is needed for the office. Besides this, Mr. Clay was at that time too young, in the estimation of the people, for such a dis- tinction. The same was said of Mr. Calhoun, who, bang brought forward at the same time, was soon aban- doned by his friends, and never again reached the same share of popularity which he then enjoyed. It is re- markable that these men should have pursued careers so nearly parallel — should have been so high in public opinion — should have been personally so powerful with men and parties — should hold such commanding influ- ence in Legislation, and yet should be so completely disappointed in the objects of their ambition. The causes are not mysterious — " Vaulting ambition o'er leaps itself." They were in too great haste. They were disappointed 0HAEACTEEISTI08 OF MESSRS. OLAY, OALHOON, ETC. 167 in their first attempt to reach the prize. Impelled by a common principle of human nature, they immediately sought the cause, not in themselves, nor in the public judgment, but in some hostile and malign influences of opponents — in conspiracies against them, or in the jeal- ous prejudices of some section of the country. The consequence of this feeling in them and their friends was the formation of parties, which lasted thirty years. From statesmen they became chiefs of political sects, and like Lord Bacon, before them — '• Gave up to party what was meant for mankind." There was, however, one wide difference in the re- spective careers of Clay and Calhoun, which, while history lasts, will place Mr. Clay on higher ground than Mr. Calhoun can ever occupy. In the number of " Seventy-Six " quoted. Dr. Drake says : " Could Mr. Clinton have been put in nomination, or that of Mr. Calhoun been sustained, my preference might have been less exclusive ; for these distinguished citizens are with Mr. Clay in their political ^principles.'''' This was strictly true. In 1824 no man was better known as a friend of internal improvement by the government, or of a strong national administration, than Mr. Cal- houn. When his ambition was disappointed, and he found that ground occupied by Clinton, Clay, Adams, and, at that period, even Jackson, he suddenly changed his entire policy. He became the bitter opponent of tariff and internal improvement ; and adopted a theory of government, which, if practically carried out, would have dissevered the Union. He professed to think that his " State interposition " was a peaceful remedy to the ills of government ; but the splendid speech of Mr. "Webster forever dissipated such an illusion. If we 168 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. suppose Mr. Calhoun to have been self-deceived, it can only be considered as one of the numerous instances in which the understanding is bewildered by the heart. Mr. Clay, on the other hand, remained firm in his convictions. An American government, nationalized in all its interests, and beneficent in its operations, positive and not negative — a something, and not a nullity — was his view of our political institutions ; and his policy conformed to that theory. From the war of 1812 to the period of his death, he was true to this ideality of government, and, amidst all the phases of policy, gave his splendid talents to make it effective in the administration of our affairs. He was to some extent successful. More than once, when the wild wave of popu- lar delusion threatened to convert the Republic into a mere chaos of unregulated democracy, he, and the con- servatives of the Senate, raised a rampart strong enough to resist, while the people gained time to think. Thus we were saved from civil conflicts in the time of nullifi- cation — ^from a collision with England on the Oregon question — and from much evil and disgrace in our inter- course with foreign nations. This high merit Mr. Clay had, that he was true to the nation and its highest interests, in all political vicissitudes, in civil dissension at home, or war abroad. None deserved better than he to be called the great American Commoner. With the character of Mr. Clay, that of Dr. Drake had some points of similarity. They were alike enthu- siastic, impulsive, energetic, and natural. They took the same views of public affairs, and, from the moment of their first acquaintance at Lexington, sympathized to- gether, so far as men could so utterly dissimilar in their pursuits. Dr. Drake, except in his sympathy with Mr. GENEEAL JACKSON. 169 Clay, and his conservative views of public policy, had little to do with politics ; and Mr. Clay had little to do with anything else. The purpose of Dr. Drake in writing " Seventy-Six " was, it is well known, not accomplished. While the claims of Messrs. Adams, Crawford, Clay, and Calhoun, were discussed, entirely new circumstances were intro- duced into the canvass, which changed the relative posi- tion of the parties. The health of Mr. Crawford, who had been previously supposed the strongest candidate, was so seriously impaired that the public mind felt doubtful of his fitness for so responsible a place ; and in the end he was left one of the lowest candidates. In the mean time a new candidate, and most extraordinary man, appeared upon the stage. General Jackson had previously been nominated by some public meetings in Pennsylvania, but was by no one thought formidable to his competitors, till a new movement placed him high in public favor. This was the withdrawal of Messrs. Clinton and Calhoun. The friends of the former were also generally, especially in the West, the friends of Jackson. Mr. Clinton declined the canvass, which gave new strength to Jackson. In the South, Calhoun also withdrew, and the great body of his friends in that section supported Jackson. Thus reinforced, the military glory of General Jackson soon found new friends to trumpet it forth before the world. The battle of New Orleans was emblazoned on party ban- ners, shouted at cross-road meetings, and sung in patriotic Bongs. In the Middle and Western States this had great effect, and there what Jackson gained, Clay lost. In the North, Mr. Adams retained his strength, and among bis friends the hero of New Orleans gained but 15 170 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. little. As the canvass drew to a close, the result became very doubtful. Dr. Drake wrote to his friends in the East, that the vote of Ohio was absolutely certain for Mr. Clay. It was, indeed, given to him, yet by so small a plurality over Jackson as to show that the event was very uncertain. Perhaps no one State better developed the fact that the people had voted by their feelings and prejudices, rather than their judgment. Ohio was settled mainly by three distinct emigrations of people from other States. These were the New England people, those from Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and, those of South- ern extraction, from Virginia and Kentucky. The latter body were very numerous in certain sections, and had the greatest number of influential public men. When the election came on, each of these bodies voted, with few exceptions, for its own candidate. The New Eng- land people, on the Western Reserve and in the large towns, voted for Mr. Adams; the Pennsylvania and Jersey people, in the middle counties and the Miami country, voted for Jackson ; while the Kentucky and Virginia population, on the Scioto, the Muskingum, and the Upper Miami, supported Clay. This was the general rule, though there were many exceptions, espe- cially among professional men, who were generally great admirers of Mr. Clay. He got the vote of this State, but was the lowest of the candidates. The historical consequences are well known. The people failed to make an election. Messrs. Adams, Jackson, and Crawford were presented to the House of Repre- sentatives for their choice. Of that House Mr. Clay was a member, and there arose to his mind a question of the greatest delicacy and responsibility. He, and his political friends, held the vote of four States — Ohio, 171 Kentucky, Illinois,, and Missouri — and on the vote of these States depended the election to be made by the House. In fact, it was a choice only between Mr. Adams and General Jackson, for Mr. Crawford's de- clining health had placed him, in a great measure, out of the question. Mr. Clay was most delicately situated. It was certainly not proper that he should proclaim his intentions in advance upon the house-tops, for it was not proper finally to determine what was almost a judicial case without consultation with others at Washington. So far as depended upon himself alone, however, he did not hesitate to express his decision to his confidential friends. Dr. Drake was one of these, and before Mr. Clay left Lexington, he declared to Dr. Drake that he should vote for Mr. Adams. This was, no doubt, con- trary to popular opinion, for in the "West, where Mr. Clay's strength lay, the choice had only been between himself and General Jackson. He was, however, actuated by higher motives than the mere desire of popularity. He really believed General Jackson far inferior to Mr. Adams in point of statesmanship, and that his military habits, especially his tendency to arbitrary conduct, rendered him unfit for high civil station. In the month of February, 1825, the election came on, and Mr. Adams was chosen President. Mr. Clay and his friends gave him their votes, and turned the scale against Jackson. In a few days Mr. Adams was inaugurated. Having been a colleague of Mr. Clay in the embassy of Ghent, knowing him well, estimating his qualifications highly, and paying due regard to his political weight, the President nominated him as Secre- tary of State. This presented another most delicate and 1T2 UFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. difficult question to Mr. Clay. Having decided the choice of Mr. Adams, should he accept the office under him ? * The active hostility of the partizans of Jackson and Crawford had already commenced. The charges to which he might be liable were obvious. For his own Bake, in the position of a popular leader, it seemed that he ought not to accept. But there were other and high considerations to which he at length yielded. Dr. Drake was one of those who advised him to accept, and who always believed that honor and duty required him to support, in office, if necessary, the administration he had, in a measure, created. The efiect of this step was soon felt. A combination was formed, commencing in the Senate, among the friends of disappointed candidates, and the disaffected of all sorts, to oppose, denounce, and, if possible, overthrow the administration. Among the measures resorted to, and probably the most effective, was the denunciation of Mr. Clay, for a corrupt intrigue with Mr. Adams. He was charged with having bargained for office, and although that charge was never believed by intelligent persons, and, then and since, has been a thousand times disproved, yet its effect on the popular mind was very great, and Mr. Clay was goaded and irritated by the mean and malignant, from Kremer to Randolph. In the midst of this conflict, when, from Mr. Clay's previous caution and delicacy, it was difficult to establish some material facts by direct testimony'. Dr. Drake was able to furnish his friend with evidence which is, historically, • Dr. Drake was one of those who thought Mr. Clay ought to accept office, and give the country the benefit of his services, in spite of any malicious construction put upon the transaction by political demagogues. CHAESES AGAINST ME. CLAT. 173 of the highest value. Mr. Clay had, as I have said, confidentially disclosed to Dr. Drake, before leaving Lexington, his determination to vote for Mr. Adams. This fact Dr. Drake now gave to the public, in a brief .but explicit letter, published in the journals of the day. It was corroborated by another from Lafayette, afBrm- ing that Mr. Clay had expressed the same views to him.* This letter was suflScient, whfen taken in connection with the absence of all testimony in favor of the charges, to satisfy all candid minds that there could have been no bargain for Mr. Clay's vote and influence. The charges served the purpose, however, of political malice, in deluding, for a time, a portion of the people, and were only withdrawn when, many years after, one of the principal instruments in the conspiracy acknowl- edged his declarations to have been utterly false.f Mr. Clay remained in the administration of Mr. Adams, and Dr. Drake, though taking little part in poli- tics, remained the warm friend of both, while he and they survived together. Neither Mr. Clay, Dr. Drake, or any other friend of Mr. Adams, found any reason in his character or conduct to regret their choice. If they were thrown into a minority, it was with men and mea- sures which gave luster and renown to their cause. Mr. Adams, around whom the whig party first gather- ed, was a man of Roman firmness and more than Eoman virtue. He was one of the few, since the era of Washington and Jay, of whom it might be truly said, " the Secretary stood alone." Modern degeneracy had * See Sargent's Life of Clay. t This letter was published in the newspapers of the day ; first, I believe, in Wheeling papers. 174 .. LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKE. not reached him. Of inflexible integrity and fearless courage, he was unmoved by the waves of the multitude, and unawed by the denunciation of demagogues. Fol- low not the multitude to do evil, was as much a part of his character as resistance to tyrants, and he was faithful in both. Such men do not follow, but make public opinions ; and, at whatever distant interval, the public mind at length returns to the truths which their saga- city perceived. The politicians laughed at Mr. Adams for. proposing a Light-house of the skies, yet ended by building a National Observatory. They denounced the Panama mission, yet have since sent a dozen missions to annex and acquire neighboring territory. They de- nounced the survey of a few interior roads, and have since surveyed routes from the Atlantic to the Pacific. They denounced the expenditure of twelve millions per annum, and have since expended fifty millions. He predicted and exposed the schemes of Mexican annexa- tion, and they have realized his prediction. They de- nied the right of petition, and he compelled tliera to yield, by an eloquence and argument which placed America beside ancient Athens, in the fame and genius of its oratory. Upon his monument it might be in- scribed with historical truth ; Justum et tenacem propositi verum, Non civkum ardor prava jubentium, Non vuUus instantis tyranni Mente quatii solida. In the summer of 1825, Dr Drake traveled through the Miami country, accompanied by his wife, in hopes of benefitting her impaired health. In this journey he met both Mr. Clay and Mr. Clinton at Lebanon. Great efibrts had been made to alienate these eminent states- INTEEVIEW WITH MESSES. OLAT AND CLINTON. 175 men. Mr. Clinton was represented as the special friend of General Jackson,* and Mr. Clay as his great enemy. On this occasion, however, they both met in a friendly spirit, at a public dinner, given more particularly to Mr. Clinton, as the friend of internal improvement.f Dr. Drake took great interest in both these gentlemen, and commented to me on their difference of character, which, for men belonging to the same country, and en- gaged in the same general range of public life, were very striking. Perhaps no two American statesmen were more opposite. Mr. Clinton was, in personal appear- ance, a very handsome man ; with high expanded fore ■ head, clear eye, regular features, and florid complexion. Mr. Clay was rather an ugly man, with a sharp eye, indeed, but a huge nose, wide mouth, and uncertain complexion. Mr. Clinton was a scholar, a man of let- ters, an elegant writer, and of thoughtful manner. Mr. Clay was not a scholar, nor a man of letters, and although he could write the Anglo-American language very re- spectably, he would never shine as a writer. Mr. Clin- ton, in accordance with his real character, seemed more like a retired student than a living statesman ; and al- though very social in his habits, and pleasant in his con- versation, seemed out of place when called on to address a public meeting, or take part at a public dinner. Here, * Several years before this General Jackson had taken a fancy to Mr. Clinton, and once, when invited to a public dinner in Tammany Hall, had toasted him, to the great consternation of theBucktails, who were then waging war upon Clinton. t This dinner was given soon after breaking ground for the Miami Canal, in July, 1825. Mr. Clinton and Governor Morrow, (a citizen of Warren county,) had together thrown up the first spadefuls of earth. 176 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. he was rather slow in calling up his ideas, and apparent- ly cold in his address. Mr. Clay, on the other hand, was prompt and ready on all public occasions ; ho was then in his element ; his quick eye spanned the eagle's glance ; his words poured rapidly forth ; his hand moved in natural gestures ; and he assumed the whole form and attitude of the commanding orator. At once graceful and impulsive, fiery and courteous, he was the very impersonation of an American bred to speaking in popu- lar assemblies, and gifted by natural genius to sway the passions of the multitude. Mr. Clinton was the scholar — Mr. Clay the orator. Both were fairly called statesmen ; and both deserved the highest rewards of their country ; but neither were ever destined to reach the high prize which was the mark of their ambition. It has been said, that republics are ungratefuL This may be doubted. But that they are jealous of high qualities, or superior genius, seems to be fully confirmed by the testimony of history. In other words, while there is a universal admiration for superior men, yet, when there is favor to be conferred, these qualities seem to re- pel rather than attract. Calhoun, whether on one or the other side of public policy^ admired by all for both genius and integrity, was never popular. DEwriT Clin- ton, with a genius more splendid, a learning seldom equaled in public men, a name of wide renown, failed to reach the Presidency. Daniel Webstee was coldly rejected, when the world acknowledged in him one of the giants who towered above the race, and the times. Clay, with an eloquence unrivaled, at the head of a powerful political organization, embracing the largest portion of the talent and wealth of the country, yet CHAEACTERISTIC3 OF MESSES. CLINTON, CLAY, ETC. 177 failed in competition with men, in all respects, his in- feriors.* So of others, in past time, who like these, have no sooner been removed from the public stage, than they have been pronounced by the voice of the multi- tude, no less than the grave verdict of history, as the leaders of their country, the impersonation of their times 1 In this they only add new names to the long catalogue of those who illustrate the vanity of human wishes — " See nations slowly wise and meanly just, To buried merit, raise the tardy bust." To Dr. Drake, the company of statesmen only afforded a new opportunity for his observation on human nature, for he held practically and really that — " The proper study of mankind was man." Indeed, to one who would be a great physician, the phscycological, not less then the physiological study of man is necessary ; for who can say where terminates the region of the mind or the body ? Who can say in how many ways the peculiarities of mind influence the body ? He was much interested in the different manifestations of mind and character in Clinton, Claj', and Monroe, at this time, and in those of Adams, Webster, Everett, and others, in a subsequent period. In Mr. Webster, as he saw him at home, he was much pleased with a fondness for rural life and home scenes, which he had not expected * I heard a distinguished member of Washington's administration say, that great genius was not required for the Presidency. It was only necessary to hare a plain business man, of patriotism and sound judgment. Whether this theory be true or not, the American people seems to practice ou the idea that greatn€ss is rather a bar than a recommendation to the Presidency. It would be a satire on truth', to affirm that either Monroe, Van Buren, Polk, or Pierce pos- sessed genius, or belonged to the first order of statesmen. 178 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. to find, but which well corresponded with his own tastes and views. He never swerved, however, from his fii-st political love, which was the policy and character of Mr. Clay. He loved the natural boldness, the impulsive en- ergy, the fiery oratory, and the American sentiments of the great Western statesman, and those qualities lost nothing in his estimation by comparison with, what seem- ed to him, the colder address, though greater learning, of Clinton and of Adams. The meeting of Mr. Clay and Dr. Drake was to the former a melancholy one. Mr. Clay's youngest daugh- ter, a child, was then sick with remittent fever, and, in spite of all medical skill, died before he left the town. The time was now approaching when Dr. Drake was himself to endure the severest of human trials. The journey, during the summer, in parts of Ohio and Ken- tucky, had been undertaken solely to benefit Mrs. Drake's health. The effect was, at first, highly favorable ; but, remaining in the country till the early part of autumn, she was seized with a bilious remittent fever. Two years subsequent to this, when writing on the eSects of ti-avel- ing. Dr. Drake said:* — "I am convinced that those who travel are much more subject to autumnal fever than those who remain in one place. I could cite many mel- ancholy cases in support of this assertion, but will refer to one only. An emigrant lady resided ten yeare in the Western country, without traveling in autumn, and without an attack of fever. She then undei-took a jour- ney in September, and was soon arrested by a severe bilious fever. Eight years afterwards, while traveling a second time, in August, she experienced a second attack ; • Western Medical and Physical Journal,— Vol. 1, No. 6. DEATH OF MES. DEAKE. 179 and two years subsequently, soon after a third journey, she was invaded a third time by the same malady, and became its victim." This lady was Mrs. Drake. She had just got back to Cincinnati from Mayslick, by which they had journeyed from Lexington, when she was seized with the autumnal fever of the country. The doctor soon perceived her danger, and filled with intense alarm, applied to every remedy which his knowledge as a physician or husband could suggest. He knew that quinine and calomel were the great remedies. He knew also that they were often adulterated, and he searched every apothecaries' shop to get them pure. He consulted his brother physicians, he applied all the art of nursing, and all the means with which ho had before succeeded, but in vain. He lost a wife, who was loved as few can be loved, and was now mourned with a grief with which few are lamented. Dr. Drake had too much of both reason and fortitude to remit any of his duties, or his labors, on account of a private calamity, however great. But henceforward, a memory of sorrow became part of his being, and seemed to flit quietly, but not unhappily, along the current of his life. Soon after Mrs. Drake's death, he was struck with the unadorned, and desolate look of the grave-yard, that of the Presbyterian Church, in which she was laid. He immediately raised a small subscription, among the friends of those buried there, and, partly with his own hands, succeeded in planting and rearing the shade trees, which now give that ground its only pleasant look. Foreseeing, some years since, the barbarous desecration of that place, now about to be made, he had the melan- choly satisfaction of removing his dead to their cheerful, and for a time, safe repose in Spring Grove. 180 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DKAKE. The anniversary of his wife's death, was one not only remembered by him, but remembered by some act which was a token of a continuing sorrow. Several of his letters to his old friend, Mrs. Mansfield, who was scarcely less a mourner than himself, were dated on this day, and recalled, in eloquent terms, the character and excellence of her whom they had lost. Frequently he commem- orated the day by a Funeral Hymn, a sort of versi- fication for which he had no small taste and talent. From these I select the following as not unworthy of publication, and peculiarly adapted to the occasion. It was written for October, 1831, which was the sixth anni- versary of his wife's funeral : — I. Ye clouds that veil the setting Bun, Dye not your robes in red ; Thou chaste and beauteous rising moon. Thy mildest radiance shed. II. Te stars that gem the vault of Heav'n, Shine mellow as ye pass ; Te falling dews of early ev'n, Kest balmy on this grass. III. Te fitful zephyrs as ye rise. And win your way along, Breathe softly out your deepest sighs. And wail your gloomiest song. IV. Thou lonely widowed bird of night, As on this sacred stone, Thou mayest in wandering chance to light, Pour forth thy saddest moan. FtJNEEAL HYMN. 181 Te giddy throng -wlio laugh and stray,* Where notes of sorrow sound. And mock the funeral vesper lay— T ead not this holy ground. VI. For here my sainted Harriet lies, I saw her hallovr'd form Laid deep below, no more to rise. Before the judgment morn. • This grave-yard, like many others, seems to have been the peculiar resort of both the heartless and the gay, who resort to the monuments of the dead for amusement and curiosity. This is the best justification the City Council of Cincinnati can have for wan- tonly converting the honre of the dead into a park for the living. In the beautiful cemetery of Spring Grove at least one generation of the dead may rest in peace. More than that can hardly be ex- pected, when We reflect that, in twenty years past, two successive grave-yards of the pioneers have been desecrated, broken up, and built on I CHAPTER VIII. Dr. Drake returns to Lexington — Condition of the School— His Practice — Resigns — Establishes the Western Journal of Medical Sciences — History of Medical Journals — Establishes the Eya Infirmary — Announces his Work on the Diseases of the Interior Valley — Views of Medical Education — Review of the "People's Doctors" — Lectures on Temperance — Incidents — Medical Jurispru- dence — Case of John Birdaall, Oppkessed with grief for a loss which he never ceased to feel and lament, Dr. Drake did not forget that he had duties to perform, and children to live for. Hencefor- ward they were the objects of his ceaseless care, and came gradually to take that place in his mind which had belonged to their mother. In this, both the enei'gy and the tenderness of his nature were made manifest. While he bent over the dead with lamentations, he watched the living with anxious solicitude, and returned to his labors with all the industry of youth. When the foliage had fallen, and the close of the year seemed to come, like the grave, to take life from the scenes that surrounded him, he returned to Lexington with his children, and renewed his duties in the medical school. Transylvania medical school was now at the height of its glory. Its accomplished professors had made themselves a name. Dudley, and Brown, and Caldwell, and Drake, had become celebrities in the medical profession. The class of the year 1825-26 numbered two hundred and eighty-one — a number much larger than had ever been assembled, at one time, in the West. In fact, it was a larger number than 182 EESIGNS HIS PEOFESSOESHIP. 183 Transylvania University has ever had, either before or since. Notwithstanding this, and that all his associations at Lexington were friendly and pleasant, he concluded to resign his professorship and return permanently to Cincinnati. This seemed to be against his personal interest ; for not only did the professorship yield a large salary, but his occasional practice was a lucrative one. He was called, in consultation, to visit patients, in directions, who could be conveniently reached from Lexington and Cincinnati. Among them were some of the most distinguished men of the country. In the years 1825 and 1826, he had visited professionally Judge Todd, of the United States Supreme Court, Governor Foindexter, Mr. Clay, and many others of note. In going to Cincinnati his practice must necessa- rily be local, and he would lose the emoluments of the professorship. All this he duly considered, but his feel- ings, and, as he thought, the ultimate intei-ests of his family were in favor of the change. Accordingly, on the 19th of March, 1826, he resigned his post at Lexington. He entered the school when it had one hundred and thirty-eight pupils, and left it with two hundred and eighty-one. In the following session it had but one hundred and ninety. What influence his reputation and ability had, in producing these results, cannot be precisely known ; but in the absence of other reasons for such marked fluctuations, it may safely be inferred that his presence and character gave no small strength and renown to the then celebrated school at Lexington. In returning to Cincinnati, new directions must be given to the current of life. He must have business; he must have new avenues of employment, and, above 184 LIFE OP DK. DANIEL DEAKE. all, he must have new objects of interest and ambition. His active intellect soon contrived these, and it was not long before he had almost as many avocations as he had years before, when he was at once merchant, physician, author, writer, and lecturer. His first business was, of course, the practice of medicine, since upon that must be his main dependence for support. Time and absence had softened the bitterness of controversy. His princi- pal opponents professionally were without the means, if not the purpose, of hostility. They had driven him from the Medical College of Ohio, but they had sub- stituted nothing in his place. They had neither raised themselves nor benefitted the college, while the injurious influences of their course upon the institution and the city were most manifest. The public were favorably inclined, and his personal friends — quite a numerous body — were warmly attached to him. Under these circumstances, be quietly resumed his place as a practicing physician, seeking only to cultivate his profession, and willing, while successful there, to leave others to the pursuit of their own schemes. In the meanwhile to write and to teach, in some way, was a necessity of his nature, and one of his first enterprises was to become the editor of a medical journal. As he was in this, as in many other things, a pioneer, being the first to establish a medical journal in the interior valley of the United States, I shall here record his own history of that enterprise. "In the year 1818-19,"* says Dr. Drake, "I issued proposals for a journal, and obtained between two and » Second Discourse before the Medical Library Association of Cincinnati, pp. 77, 78. MEDICAl JOUENALS. 185 three hundred subscribers; but other duties interfered with my entering on its publication. Immediate!}' after resigning the professorship of surgery in the Medical College of Ohio, my gifted, indefatigable, and lamented friend, the late De. John D. Godman, determined on a similar enterprise, and in March, 1822, issued the first number of the Western Quarterly Heporter, of which Mr. John P. Foote, then a bookseller and cultivator of science, was, at his own risk, the publisher. Dr. God- man, at the end of a year, returned to the East, and, with the sixth number, the work was discontinued. Three years afterwards, in the spring of 1826, De. Gut "W. Weight and De. James M. Mason, Western gradu- ates, commenced a semi-monthly, under the title of the Ohio Medical Repository. At the end of the first volume, I became connected with it, in place of Dr. Mason. The title was changed to the Western Medical and Physical Journal^ and it was published monthly. At the end of the first volume, it came into my exclu- sive proprietory and editorial charge, and was continued under the title of the Western Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, with the motto, at that time not inappropriate, of '■^ E Sylvis nuncius." My first edito- rial adjunct was De. James C. Finlby; the next, De. William Wood ; then Des. Geoss and Haeeison. After the dissolution of the medical department of Cincinnati College, in 1839, it was transferred to Louisville, on my appointment there, and its subscription was united with that of the Louisville Journal of Medicine and Sur- gery, begun by Professors Miller, and Yandell, and Dr. Thomas H. Bell, but suspended after the second number. The title was now slightly modified, and from a quar- terly it was again made monthly. Professor Yandell 16 186 UFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. united with me in the editorial department, and soon after Dr. Thomas W. Oolescott was added. In 1849 my connection with it was dissolved, and also that of Dr. Colescott, since which it has been continued by Pro- fessor Yandell and Dr. Bell. Thus the second publica- tion of Cincinnati and the West has been successful, so far as this, that, under difi'erent names and with one change of place, it has lived through a quarter of a cen- tury, during twenty-one years of which period it was my very equivocal good fortune to have a connection with it as an editor, and three times as a publisher. As it was, strictly speaking, the first established' journal of the interior valley, and is now by far the oldest, this extended notice will not be regarded as out of place." Dr. Drake appeared as principal editor of the Medical and Phj'sical Journal in April, 1827. In the " notices" at the close of that number, he announces his determina- tion to go on with the great work on the Diseases of the Mississippi Valley, of which the first part only was pub- lished at his death. Concerning this he had several years before issued a circular to the physicians of the West, requesting from them "such facts and observa- tions as would aid him in the composition of a history of the diseases which occur between the Gulf of Mexico and the Lakes." He now says that " the work which he then announced has not been abandoned, though de- ferred in consequence of various official duties; but, that having divested himself of these, he hopes, at no distant time, to engage seriously in the undertaking." This work which had been thus twice publicly an- nounced, and which, next to the foundation of a great medical school in Cincinnati, was the leading object of his ambition, he was yet unable seriously to undertake THE EYE INFIEMAEY. 187 for many years after this, and more than thirty years elapsed from the commencement to the completion of the first volume ! Such are the delays and the draw- backs on the enterprises of literary men, who, without any other fortune than their profession, are obliged to give up to daily cares and daily wants the time and the labor with which they had hoped to produce for mankind the results of profound thought, or the fruits of study and observation. To the men of imagination only, of whom the poet says, " Ten thousand glorious systems would he build, Ten thousand bright ideas filled his mind," the loss of these immature systems is but the loss of a vision, which imagination soon replaces with another. But to the man of science it is another thing. It is the untimely death of offsprings, which have already been formed intellectually into being, and need only ^he growth which time and culture confer. Besides this work Dr. Drake had the intention to prepare, and some of the materials for it, a work on the history of the West, a plan which was entirely lost, as was part of that which he left unfinished, on the diseases of the interior. Another plan which he formed, and now carried into execution, was the establisment of an Eye Infirmary in Cincinnati. In the Medical and Physical Journal for November, 1827, he announces the " Cincinnati Eye Infirmary," thus: "This establishment, announced by the projector in our May number, has been open for patients since the first of July. Upwards of one hun- dred respectable citizens have enrolled themselves as annual contributors to the charity fund. To be entered as a charity patient, the applicant must apply to some one of the visitore, and adduce to him satisfactory 188 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. evidence of being indigent. The visitors are 'Eevercnd Jostma L. Wilson, President; Mr. Davis B. Lawler, Secretary; Mr. William M. Walker, Treasurer; Rev. William Burke, Mr. Martin Baum, Mr. Peyton Synimes, and Mr. John P. Foote.' The charity patients are at- tended gratuitously by Dr. Drake, the physician and operative surgeon of the Infirmary." This institution he continued, and operated on a large number of patients, till the pressure of other duties com- pelled him to abandon it. Since then he has been suc- ceeded by others, who devote themselves to the special •diseases of the eye. Thus wo find that in less than a year after leaving Lexington, Dr. Drake had already commenced the various occupations of physician, surgeon, author, and journalist. Nor did ho pause for a moment in the zeal- ou» and energetic pursuit of all the public objects and, benevolent schemes, which so frequently occupy the public mind, and engrossed so much of his own atten- tion. About this time the subject of temperance awakened general interest. Eechabites and individual preachers of temperance there had been in all ages of the world ; but their number was few in comparison with the great multitude of those who drank artificial stimu- lants to excess, and crowded the highways with drunk- enness. There was yet wanting the strength of great public associations, which, formed from the body of the people, would carry through them the joint influence of example, of sympathy, and of mutual support. In the Atlantic States, Dr. Beecher, in lectures at Litchfield, (Connecticut,) afterwards extensively published, had excited a deep feeling on the subject of temperance. These lectures were delivered iu 1826, and in the same THE TEMPEEANC3E MOVEMENT. 189 year was formed the " American Temperance Society." In six years more no less than six thousand societies were formed, containing a million of meinbera. Great effect was for a time produced in the reduced use of distilled spirits, and especially, among the refined and educated classes. The custom of oflPering liquor on all occasions was broken up, so far that it was no longer deemed im- perative ; and the fashion of high life withdrew its countenance from the grosser forms of intemperance. In this movement Dr. Drake took gi'eat interest. He was not only strictly temperate himself, but even absti- nent, while in his observations upon society around him, he found ample reasons to see and lament the devasta- tions which intemperance had caused. He entered this new career of benevolence with great zeal, nor ever failed, to the end of his life, in giving whatever of time or talent he had to this noble means of human regeneration. It was in September, 1827, that a public meeting of citizens was called to meet at the Court-house, and con- sider the subject of temperance. The meeting was held at three o'clock in the afternoon, and, for those days, was really large and respectable. Many old citizens were present, who were quite familiar with old whisky, and upon whose cheeks it blossomed forth in purple dyes. To these, and indeed to the great body of people in the West a temperance speech was a new idea. Dr. Drake was the speaker, and they listened to him with respect- ful attention, and were by no means opposed to the object. The speech, however, was long. The doctor had arrayed a formidable column of facts. The day was hot, and after he had spoken about an hour without ap- parently approaching the end, some one, out of regard 190 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. for the doctor's Btrength, or by the force of habit, cried out : " Let us adjourn a while and take a drinli !" The meet- ing did adjourn, and McFarland's tavern being near by, the old soakers refreshed themselves with "old rye." The meeting again assembled, the doctor finished his speech, and all went off well. Soon after the temper- ance societies began to be formed, and the excitement then begun has continued to this day. It is worthy of remark, that the first temperance societies were formed on the principle of only excluding what are called " spirituous liquors ;" such as whisky, gin, brandy, &c. This is the basis of our present anti- liquor statutes in Ohio, and seems to be as far as, in the present state of public opinion, it is practicable to enforce such a law. If even this can be enforced, it will, in the language of military bulletins, be a " glorious victory" over popular prejudice. It is the practical result of only thirty years of moral agitation. It is the historical proof that we need not despair in any good work which can be commended to human reason. If thirty years, or even double that, of moral agitation and earnest effort can accomplish any practical reform, not many ages will elapse before mankind will have emerged from their de- gradation, and present the beautiful aspect of a perfect society. Neither Dr. Drake, nor many other most intelligent temperance reformers, especially among physicians, ever believed it possible, or desirable, totally to destroy the appetite for stimulus, which seems natural to the human constitution. This appetite is inherent, and exists, doubt- less, for salutary purposes. But the great end of the tem- perance reformation is to direct it from destructive to inno- cent uses. Every species of animal food, and every fruit MEDICAL JUEISPEUDBNCB. 191 having acid capable of fermentation, carries with it a stimulus to either the blood or the nerves of the human system. Hence, the appetite for stimulants and the means of stimulation are universal. The practical experience of human life, however, proves beyond a doubt, that it is only in certain forms of distilled, or fermented liquors, that stimulation becomes injurious. The great and fatal part of the injury lies in the destruction or derangement of the reason, without which man is no longer human. Against this injury, as it exists in the form of spirituous liquors, and the seller of these liquors, the temperance reformer does, and must ever, direct all the energies of moral and social agitation. On this subject Dr. Drake never ceased to feel a lively sensibility ; nor ever flagged in his zeal, or his labors, for the promotion of temperance. He was many times called to address the public on this subject, and twenty years after his lecture, at the Court- house, in Cincinnati, formed a Total Abstinence Society among the students of his medical class at Louisville. From 1827 to 1830, Dr. Drake remained at Cincinnati, engaged in the practice of his profession, in editing his medical journal, in attendance upon the Eye Infirmary, and mingling in all the benevolent enterprises of the day. In July, 1828, he enlarged the "Journal of Medical and Physical Sciences," from a monthly to a quarterly, and greatly improved it in every respect. The title page was ornamented with a branch and flower of the dogwood, inscribed with the motto, — " Esylvis nuncius." In this journal he published some valuable essays. In one of these he gave his views of medical education, and were a student strictly to follow it, he would have nearly as much to do as the student of oratory, under the instruc- tion of Cicero, who supposed that oratory included all 192 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. other arts and sciences. Dr. Drake's views of medical education were quite exalted, and when this view of what it should be, is contrasted with what it is, it gives us a melancholy view of the defects and degradation of the profession. Of those who receive medical degrees, but few have anything more than an outline knowledge of the human system, or of the materials and appliances which may be brought to its aid ; while of general knowl- edge they have but little. Supposing these, however, to be all they ought to be, how many thousands and tens of thousands are literally practicing upon society, with an ignorance which is profound, and a quackery which is shameless ! The medical colleges educate but a small part, or rather it is more proper to say they only help to educate a part, of that great number who seek the medical profession. The great body of students receive most of their instruction, either by precept or example, in the offices of practicing physicians. But of tliis education. Dr. Drake correctly says, there is no sys- tem in the United States whatever. He gives, in his essay, certain rules as to, what ought to be done in this sort of instruction. Tha first is, tiat the preceptor, who is selected to teach, should be a man of sound and dis- criminating judgment ; learned, at least, in his profes- sion ; devoted to that profession ; conscientious in the performance of his duties ; a man of business, and a man of sound morals — not intemperate, a gambler, or promise breaker. This enumeration of the qualifications of a preceptor, though no more than what ought certainly to be required, would exclude a large number of the actual preceptors of medicine. The second rule he lays down is, that the pupils should HIS VIEWS OF MEDICAL EDUCATION. 193 not commence too soon ; eighteen is young enough, he says, to commence the study of medicine ; and yet we have seen he commenced himself at fifteen, and was emi- nently successful. The rule, however, is right, for the want of judgnient in young practitioners has occasioned the loss of many a life. The third rule is, that the length of time required for study should not be too short. Four years, he thinks in- dispensable ; but who does not know that not half that time is actually employed in study by the medical stu- dents of this country ? On this point, he thus remarks : — " Nothing is more common than for them to enter on the practice at the end of two years, or even eighteen months, and three years are thought to be a protracted and tiresome pupilage. But I do not hesitate to assert that even that time is too short, and that four years should be considered as indispensable. Of the various causes which have retarded the advancement of the profession in this country, and inflicted upon it such multitudes of medical practitioners, who leave behind them no single monument of skill or science, this is one of the most operative and universal. The blame rests in part on our national impatience to engage in prac- tical exertions, but still more on the custom which pre- vails among fathers who are indigent, or but little above that condition, of devoting their sons to the profession. The term of their pupilage is thus determined, not by the sciences which they ought to study, but by their means of support." Fourthly^ the doctor says: "Every student should spend a part of his pupilage among the officinal sub- stances, that are the agents with which future objects 17 194 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. are to be accomplished. He should learn their sensible qualities by observation, and become familiar with all the compounds and pharmaceutic processes of the shop." But this, he says, is only necessary while prosecuting the subjects of chemistry and pharmacy. While study- ing anatomy, physiology, pathology, and botany, the dissecting-room, his chamber, and the fields, are his proper places of study. Dr. Drake gives a rule for the portion of each day which students may devote to study, which exemplifies very well his own industrious habits, but which, I may safely say, the majority of human beings cannot endure without great injury to their physical constitution. He says: "A safe average would be twelve hours. This would give seven for sleep, and few young persons can do with less, two for meals, and three for exercise, labor, and society." The hours given to amusement and society, he thinks, are, with most medical students, thrown away, or worse, spent in ruinous dissipation. " To answer the end for which they are set apart," he says, "they should be spent in active exertion in the open air, which will not only prepare the mind for new labors, but ward off dyspepsia, palpitation, hypocondria- cism, and red eyes, and prevent that debility of frame, so falsely regarded as the necessary effect of hard study, when it results from an insufficient amount of hard labor." Shall a student of medicine pursue his studies on Sunday ? Dr. Drake was not at this time a member of any church, and he answers this question simply as a physician, without regard to the religious aspect of the case. " I shall answer this question," he says, " not as a HIS VIEWS OF MEDICAL EDUCATION. 195 divine, but a physician and teacher. I would say, then, that he should not, but the reverse. As a general rule his progress will be greater if he suspend than continue his studies through the Sabbath. The mind, no less than the body, requires not mere moments of relaxation, but hours of actual repose, at least from the particular labors in which it is engaged." This confirms what has been remarked by oflScers in the military and naval service, that men will do more labor and service when they rest the seventh day, than when they work continuously, without an interval. Fifthly. What other studies than medicine shall occu- py the student's mind ? Dr. Drake's views of the studies requisite to a physician seem to have been not unlike what Cicero required of an orator, that he should embrace the whole range of arts and sciences. He says : " That a majority of our students of medicine, especially from the West, enter upon their pupilage with a most incompe- tent education. For all such there is no alternative but to cultivate the elements of literature and science during their medical pupilage, or to remain superficial scholars during their lives. I regret to say the majority choose the latter." Those who have been regularly educated, he also thinks must review and continue their studies. The practical branches of literature and science, on which the student of medicine should devote a portion of his time, are: — First. English Grammar and the art of composition, without which no young man need hope to become a tolerable writer. Second. Physical Geography, embracing the leading facts in Meteorology, which constitutes the foundation for 196 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DRAKE. the study of the physical condition and diseases of man in the various countries and climates of the earth.* Third. The Outlines of History — that he may be able to trace the progress of his profession, and understand the influence of moral causes. Fourth. The elements of Mathematics, and Natural Philosophy, for they have many points of illustrative association with medicine. Fifth. The French language; for the subjects of Anatomy, Physiology, and Pathology have been culti- vated with great success by, the French physicians, and but a small part of thuir works have been translated. Sixth. The Latin and Greek languages are, perhaps, the most necessary of any of the branches named to the character of a scholar. Having added these to his elementary education, the student is to proceed, with strict study, and rigid indus- try, to the acquisition of his profession. In this Dr. Drake says, with Linnaeus, that "Method is the soul of science," a principle which is greatly neglected by tlie medical profession. Of this he says: "In medicine, or in other sciences, that method is best which requires the student to take nothing on trust, to anticipate no princi- ple or leading fact. The whole course should, as far as possible, be purely synthetical." The order in which he should proceed with liis pro- fessional studies, he thus describes : — First. Chemistry, because necessary to prepare him * The advantage of this kind of science Dr. Drake fully realized in the preparation of hia great work on t)io Diseases of the Missis- Bippi Valley; a work which shows more accurate knowledge of the Physical Geography and Meteorology of this country, than con be found in any other. HIS VIEWS OF MEDICAL EDUCATION. 197 for the chemical terms he will meet with in the study of Physiology. Second. Anatomy, which is the general organization of the human body. Third. Physiology, the foundation of which are An- atomy, and Chemistry. Fourth. Pathology — or the morbid conditions of the body. Of this he said at that time, (1830,) he knew of no distinct treatise which was suitable to the elementary studies of the pupil. Fifth. Nosology, or the classification of diseases — in which the student, for the first time, will discover the separate paths which diverge on the one side to clinical medicine, and on the other to operative surgery. Sixth. MoEBiD Anatomy, which will enable him to connect his ideas of symptamatology, or connect the symptoms with their precise morbid condition. Seventh. ^Etiology, which will lead him into the origin, combination, and modes d action of the causas morhorrum. Eighth. Finally the pkaotice of medicine ; its thera- peutics and operations. Of this he says: " Every part of a course of medical studies abounds in difficulties, and calls for intense and sustained application ; but no stage is so trying to the powers of the student as that which may be called the therapeutic. Hitherto he has occupied himself successively upon distinct sciences, which he perceived to abound in connections favorable to their union into a system of professional knowledge ; and that union in reference to his own mind, he is now to affect. He is faithfully represented by the commander, who hav- ing embodied and equipped a great variety of separate 198 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DRAKE. military corps, has at length to consolidate them into an army and direct its active operations." This brief analysis of his views of medical education, when pursued under a private teacher, is enough to show how elevated were his conceptions of professional excellence, and how exacting his demands upon the professional student. Believing in the high mission of medicine, and the consequent dignity and responsibili- ties of the educated physician, he deeply felt the degra- dation of intellect and morals which is too evident in a large portion of the profession. Quackery is not the only enemy with which it has to deal. A worse one is the reproach brought upon itself by neglecting educa- tion, both general and medical. Dr. Drake knew, by constant intercourse with large bodies of both students and practitioners, that general education was much more neglected among physicians than by either of the other learned professions. Seeing this most distinctly, and yet zealous for his "order," he was incessant, as lecturer, teacher, and writer, in giving his testimony, both to the value of education, and to its necessity for a physician. While he was thus ardent in the endeavor to elevate the intelligence of physicians, he was not unmindful of the pre- datory encroachments made by the great army of quacks. For these he had no mercy ; for with them the quality of ignorance was generally well mixed with that of knavery. Their nostrums, like Pindar's razors, are made to sell. If they should happen to do good, it is a providence, for which the patient is in no way indebted to them. For the evil they do, the vender is alike careless and indifferent. About this time, (1830,) he published, in the Western Journal^ a '•'•Review of the People's Doctors." This was a review and exposure of some of the principal REVIEW OF THE " PEOPLe's DOCTORS." 199 prescriptions, remedies, plans of treatment, and schemes published by Dr. Salmon, in "The Druggist Shop opened in 1693," Thompson's Botanic Physician, and Professor Kefinesque's Receipts. Salmon appears to have been a physician of the seventeenth century, and, with all due reverence for one of the most illustrious names which ever adorned the medical, profession, I think some of Sydenham's pre- scriptions might be found, which have almost as absurd a mixture of simple plants as those of Dr. Salmon.* Sydenham, however, was without the gross impostures of Salmon, in prescribing lion's hearts, dead men's brains, and earth-worms. Sydenham only ministered to the prevalent custom and taste of the age, in conceal- ing the real remedy, by a mixture of various unneces- sary and inefficient ingredients. Dr. Drake quotes one of Salmon's prescriptions, which, in this age, seems almost incredible; for even one of the most ignorant quacks of the present time would not venture to try such an experiment on the credulity of his patients. The prescription is this, viz if 'An Elixir Univeesall — Not Particular, for any Distemper. Rex Metallorum (Gold) 3 ss; Powder of a Lyon's Heart, g iv; Filings of a Unicorn's Horn, g ss; Ashes of the whole Chameleon, g iss; Bark of the Witch Hazel, two handsful; Earth-worms, (lumbrici,) a score; Dead Man's Brain, g v; Brierwort, (Sofronacia,)< ^^^^ ^ ^^ Egyptian Onions, ) Mix the ingredients together, and mix in my spirits universalis." * See Sydenham's Prescription for Eheuraatism. f Western Joilrnal of 'Medical and Physical Sciences, Vol. Ill, Ko. 3, p.457. 200 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DKAKK. This mixture, the learned Dr. Salmon says, is lenitive, dissolutive, aperative, strun^thenini^-, and glutinativo. Professor Kafinesque proposed more astonishiiii; things than Dr. Salmon — among other things, to grow pearls in the Ohio river; but the people were unfortunately so much addicted to raising corn and pork, that ho literally threw peai'ls before swine, and had the mortification to see them treated with indifierence. lie also proposed to write the history of this country, for thousands of years before either red men or white saw it; but his learning was wasted, and his name unhappily became connected with that of quacks and impostors. Pr. Thompson, of steam practice, was, periiaps, a greater man than either Salmon or llaiinesquo ; for he was so successful as to induce large numbers of people to believe that, to be healed, they must be parboiled, and this must be done in consideration of money had and received. Since the time when Dr. Drake wrote the " People's Doctors," we have had other eminent practitioners upon the popular credulity, whose moral daring, if not intel» lectual genius, far surpasses that of all their predeces- sors. The art of healing by animal magnetism and spiritual visions, has certainly outdone, not only Dr. Salmon and Professor Eafinesque, but even the ancient witches. The old ladies, who withered the arms of men, and enchanted the hearts of maidens, were far inferior in power to the modern damsels, who, sitting round a table, bring up the spirits of the dead to con- verse with the living! The ancient Roman, who, over the entrails of a beast, prayed to Jupiter, and consulted the auguries around him, might rejisonably claim to bo THE CASE OF JOHN BIEDSALL. 201 an enlightened philosopher, in comparison with the ladies and gentlemen, who, by a few raps on a board, think they are conversing with Franklin, Washington, Newton, and Napoleon ! It is said that vice proves the existence of its opposite virtue, and hypocrisy is the evidence that what is pro- fessed somewhere exists. The exhaustless faith of man- kind in imposture, should be an equally exhaustless spring of consolation to the ti'ue physician of body and Boul. There are remedies for the body ; there is a balm for the soul. It is these realities which make the basis of imposture ; and faith in these realities is one of the fragments which, surviving the fall, proves the perfect structure of our original nature. Dr. Drake at this period, from 1827 to 1834, in which he was more specially and personally interested and en- gaged in editing the Western Journal of Medical and Physical Sciences, wrote numerous articles, and discussed many important subjects. Among these was a question in jurisprudence, which always interested him. JoTin Birdsall was convicted for the murder of his wife. It seems to be clearly proved that he was intoxicated, and for the time insane, when he committed the act. He was not merely out of his head by drinking, but it was shewn that intoxication with him produced insanity ; and that it was apt to return at intervals of about four months. Dr. Drake raised the question whether this man, in such a state, was capable of committing a criminal act for which he should be punished ? The day before he was to be hung, Dr. Drake with other gentlemen entered his cell, and asked him to sign a petition which would be pre- sented by others, for a commutation of his sentence, on 202 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. the ground that he was insane when he committed the act. Birdsall refused with passion, saying it was not true, and his wife was not dead. Dr. Drake argued that this was so unnatural and absurd that he was then either insane, or feigning insanity. This being about the period, when, if he drank, his fits of insanity returned, the doctor submitted to the profession whether this was not an actual insanity, or only a, feign- ing. He concludes thus : " To the fate of Birdsall, referring to himself only, I have always felt indifferent ; but having been drawn offi- cially to the study of his case, I have endeavored to make it of some value, as a matter of medical jurisprudence, and am gratified to know that what has already been published, has drawn attention to a much neglected but deeply interesting subject. To the same end I have written this sequel, which I hope will direct the inqui- ries of the younger members of the profession to the subject of feigned insanity, concerning which the oldest physicians and jurists may often be perplexed. That Birdsall was a bad man, I have as little doubt as that he killed his wife — not in a fit of drunkenness — but in a paroxysm of insanity. But a good man, under a similar delusion, might have done the same thing ; and hence the importance of considering the last dreadful act of his social life on its own merits, and disconnecting it from his previous conduct. This should only have been re- ferred to in the absence of proof, that he had committed the murder. When society shall come to punish a speoial act in one man and excuse it in another, its juris- prudence will no longer rest upon those principles of justice, which all are interested in maintaining. The THE CASE OF JOHN BIEDSALL. 203 law should not be allowed to cast its sword into the balance." * In this case Dr. Drake was correct in his general prin- ciples, but legally incorrect, as to the conclusion to which he was disposed to come. He was disposed to have a man, under such circumstances, acquitted of the crime, and sent to the Lunatic Asylum. But the law concludes differently. The question was not whether Birdsall was insane at the time the act was committed ; but whether it was not a temporary fit of insanity, voluntarily caused by himself, knowing its consequences ? The last was the fact, and the law never acquits a man of crime com- mitted even indirectly, which he himself voluntarily caused. The fact that this voluntary act of evil, and the actual crime committed, are separated by some one or more intermediate facts or agencies, does not excuse the criminal ; for he might have avoided the crime. No good man can be placed in any such situation ; for, knowing that he was subject to insanity under certain influences, he would avoid those influences. If insanity, thus voluntarily caused, can excuse crime, no drunkard can ever be convicted ; for insanity, from the delirium of an hour to that of a lifetime, is the immediate, direct, and fatal consequence of drunkenness. There is another view of this subject, which will satisfy both the demands of the law and the benevolent purpose of those who agree with Dr. Drake. This is, to provide hospitals specially for drunkards, and lunatic asylums for those who are incurable. Drunkenness is, in those of confirmed habits, a positive disease. This • Western Journal of Medical and Physical Sciences, Vol. 3, No. 2, pp. 221. 204 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DKAKB. has been slowly received, but is now an admitted fact. Like lunacy in its first formations, it is a curable disease. Why, then, should not society exercise the same benevo- lence towards those unhappy beings, as it does towards the blind, the dumb, or the lunatic ? Two public provi- sions would do more, both to prevent and cure drunken- ness, than all the general benevolence of the world has yet been able to accomplish. These are to provide a HOSPITAL FOE DETJNKAEDS, and tO put their PROPBETY in the hands of Teustees. Simple law against human appetite is in vain. But in this case the whole array of selfishness and pride would be arrayed against the appetite. And not only this, but its diseases would be cured, and its victims protected. Perhaps such remedies belong to a higher civilization than we possess. But I hope that even this generation will not pass away till some such measures are adopted, and the community becomes like the Society of Friends, a body in which peace and temperance are the rules of life. CHAPTER IX. 1831 — 1834 — Dr. Drake accepts a Professorship in the Jefferson School, Philadelphia — ^Forms the plan of another Medical School at Cincinnati — Medical Department of Miami University — Cholera — Dr. Drake's Views — Its appearance at Cincinnati — Tables of the Cholera at Cincinnati — Its Characteristics — Is Cholera Morbus Epidemic ? Aftee three years of journalism and professional practice, Dr. Drake found these insufiBcient to satisfy the activities of his mind. He still longed for what he knew he was specially qualified — the ofiice of medical teacher in a great school ; and he still cherished the idea that such an institution would yet rise in Cincinnati. In this frame of mind he accepted, for a temporary purpose, a professorship in the new school at Philadel- phia, acting under the charter of Jefferson College. He seems to have accepted this place with an undefined idea of the result ; but, obviously, with no intention of removing there. It served the purpose of a post of observation, whence he could survey the ground and choose his position. Arrived at Philadelphia, for the third time, he appeared before them in the new and more eminent character of a successful and distin- guished teacher of medicine, where he had once been an humble student. Twenty-five years before, he came there a young man, raw, and almost unlettered, with only his own energy for support, and only his ambi- tion for guide. Having exhausted his last dollar and borrowed of friends, he was obliged to leave the 205 206 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DKAKE. University without a degree. Twelve years after, he re- turned a successful practitioner, but an earnest student, to eai'n the degree which he received ; and now, he returned again to take rank with the greatest profes- sors, and wear honors hardly won in the several fields of study and conflict. It was honorable to him — it was honorable to the West — it was a fine example to ambi- tious youth, that he had been able to pursue such a career, and from the dim backwoods, by his own exer- tions, emerge and come to the front rank of enlight- ened and learned society. The Jefferson School had more than a hundred pupils, and Dr. Drake fell in no way behind the public expec^ tation as teacher and lecturer. He found, however, that the old University still had the advantage, and that in fully sustaining himself, and producing a lively impression upon the public mind of Philadelphia, he had accomplished quite as much as he could then hope for. The purpose which he had always firmly held, and which he had more than half in view when he went to Philadelphia, he now set plainly forth. He had already seen and conversed with Dr. Staughton, on his way through Baltimore and Washington, and he now applied to Dr. McClellan, and corresponded with Drs. Dunglison and Patterson, in reference to founding a new medical school at Cincinnati. In doing this, he was acting with many of his personal friends, who were dissatisfied with the proceedings of the Medi- cal College of Ohio, and desired to see him placed in a position worthy of his talents and his services, as one of the founders of the city. After correspondence with Patterson and Dunglison, he failed to procure their services, but at length sue- MIAMI DNIVEESITY. 207 ceeded in making up a faculty, which was certainly by no means inferior to others in talents or character. This faculty were to act as the "Medical Department of Miami University." Miami University was one of two which had, in fact, been founded by the National Government within the State of Ohio, by the grant of a township of land to each. It had received from the State Legislature a charter, conferring full University powers. Under this charter the trustees, upon application of Dr. Drake, now organized the medical department at Cincinnati. Upon his return from Philadelphia, in February, and before the termination of the session, Dr. Drake found a new diflSculty in the way. He arrived in Columbus just in time to find the agents of the Medical College of Ohio at work upon the Legislature, to get an act passed prohibiting this action of Miami University as illegal. His presence was opportune, for he was able to show that the University had fiill powers ; and, on motion of Mr. King, chairman of the committee, the subject was postponed. This project proceeded so far that he had actually selected all the professors, and written out a programme of the institution, which only needed the official signa- tures to be announced to the public. The school was to open in the autumn of 1831. The faculty was to consist of Dr. Drake, Dr. George McClellan, Dr. John Eberle, Dr. James M. Staughton, Dr. J. F. Henry, Dr. Thomas D. Mitchell, and Dr. J. N. McDowell,. as ad- junct Professor of Anatomy. Of these, Drs. Staughton, Eberle, and Mitchell, came out to Cincinnati ; but, at this juncture the faculty and frieiids of the Medical College of Ohio, judging that the new school would 208 LlJS OF DR. DANIEL DRAKE. probably destroy the old one, took measures to effect a com promise and union of the two. The result was, that the scheme of the Miami school was abandoned, and Drs. Eberle, Staughton, and Mitchell, accepted places in the old school. A professorship was also created for Dr. Drake, but being evidently a mere supplement to the ordinary chairs, he resigned at the end of the ses- sion of 1831-32, and again returned to private life. The period had now come when that great destroyer, the cholera, had invaded America. Landing from an emigrant ship at Quebec, governed by the same myste- rious laws which had ruled its action from the beginning — pursuing the same uninterrupted and devastating ca- reer — it ascended the St. Lawrence, entered the basin of the lakes, and was now sweeping round the upper Mis- sissippi, whence it entered the valley of the Ohio. From Buffalo it was carried by Scott's troops, then on their way to engage in the Black Hawk war. Among tliem it broke out on the bosom of the lakes, and by the time they reached Chicago they had already been decimated by the angel of death, and a large number of the rem- nant were immediately consigned to hospitals. In this manner the dreaded and fatal invader reached the Mis- sissippi, and thence pursued its course apparently in steamboats. In the transmission and ultimate results of this pesti- lence, Dr, Drake was profoundly interested. Like most other physicians, he did not believe it contagious; but at the same time held no theory to account for its trans- mission. Of the several theories of contagion, mineral poison, malaria, or animalculaa, he was rather more in- clined to the last — that is the probability of animalcular existence, so minute as to bo undetected, and yet capable THE CHOLERA. 209 of an aDima] life, which, by sometimes snbsisting on persons, and sometimes pursuing an independent trade in the atmosphere, would account for all the phenomena of the cholera pestilence. He did not deny, nor can any one deny, the historical fact, that the cholera frequently, nearly always, advanced steadily on the great lines of lo- comotion, and that evidently by the transmission of persons. Nor can it be denied, on the other hand, that it often lights down on places remote and apparently disconnected from those affected. These opposite and contradictory phenomena are reconciled and made natu- rally possible, on the animalcular theory, but upon no other. On the question of contagion, (meaning by that term simply transmission by persons,) numbers are un- questionably in the negative; and yet, many of the clearest minds, both in and out of the profession, believe cholera contagious in this sense. Dr. Drake, however, did not declare himself in favor of any theory, but was willing to watch events, study the remedies, if any such exist, and do all that human energy could to arrest, abate, or render endurable the destruction and affliction which attended the pestilence. In this his fortitude and feelings were most severely tried, for he was destined, successive seasons, to see several of the near and beloved members of his own family, boi'ne to the grave, with a suddenness and fierceness of attack which placed them beyond the power of human remedy. Notwithstanding his own mournful experience, and his observation upon the utter futility of the most popular remedies for cholera, he yet believed, in common with the great body of intelligent physicians, that some princi- ples were established even in cholera. Among these the great and important one is, that cholera yieldp to 18 210 ^ LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DRAKE. medicine only in its first and forming stage, or rather it is only then that we can expect and hope for success. Ex- perience seems to have established, that where proper remedies have been applied in the forming stage, there are comparatively but few fatal cases ; while in the latter stages there are but few recover. The great practical difficulty in applying this 'principle in the treatment of patients is that, in the height or greatest power of the pestilence, so short a time elapses between the first and the last symptoms, that the forming stage seems to dis- appear. The disease comes like a sudden, destructive, and fatal blow, giving no warning, and crushing the body into instant ruin. This is the form in which it often appears in India, leaving but three or four hours between the fullness of life and the silence of death. In the great majority of cases, however, there is warning, and often for several days, so that the principle of ohsta principiis, which in cholera is found to be almost a perfect remedy, may be successfully applied. Another principle which Dr. Drake adhered to, and in which the great body of able physicians are also agreed is, that the combination of mercury and opium is at last the great sheet anchor. All the minor remedies he used freely, but resolutely adhered to the necessity of acting on the liver, as the great means of ultimate re- covery. But, while believing this, he was never such a bigot of rale as to refuse or neglect anything which afforded the least prospect for relief or success. In a disease where there is confessedly no known remedy as such, the physician is thrown npon any expedient which nature, or genius, or skill, or even empiricism itself, can afford. He will only reject what he knows must be OHAEACTBEISTICS OF THE CHOLEEA. 211 injurious. While, however, the great field of expedients was open to him. Dr. Drake never ceased to admonish the public and the profession, that it was only by pre- ventive measures in the first instance, and by acting on the liver and the skin as remedies, that any success could be expected in the treatment of cholera. In this he coincided with the 9,lmost uniform experience and opinions of enlightened physicians, fi-om India to Eng- land, and from England to the United States. Any one who desires to know both the virulence of this class of diseases, and the most reliable remedies in those coun- tries where they are most violent, will find an interesting account of them in the admirable work of Dr. James Johnson, on the Diseases of Tropical Climates.* Mysterious as the pestilence known as Asiatic cholera is in its mode of action, its histoiy is scarcely less so. In almost every one of the multitude of articles and treatises written on this subject, it is said to have com- menced in India, in the year 1817. No mention is made of its appearance at any earlier period ; and yet it is ad- mitted to be the disease long and universally known as cholera, only that in this form it has assumed two new characteristics — that is, epidemic and spasmodic. The last can hardly be called a new characteristic, for it fre- quently attends the severer forms of common cholera. And this is so little peculiar, that physicians have fre- quently differed in opinion as to whether a case was Asiatic or common cholera. Two facts, however, all are agreed upon : that it is epidemic, or, in other words, a pestilence, and that there is a peculiar absence of iiliary * This is a small work published, I believe, under the title of Johnson on Tropical Climates, 212 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. disoJhwrgea. These are the only peculiar facts upon which the medical profession and its historians are agreed. It is hardly credible, then, that a disease so closely assimilated to common cholera, should in a hot climate, or in the hot seasons of temperate climates, have only made its appearence as late as the year 1817, and only in one country. Unquestionably this malady, in its modified form, has only in the last forty years, assumed the character and the fatality of a pestilence. Practi- cally, it is enough to know this, and sad enough to realize its ravages without speculating on its causes. In the divine economy of moral administration, this comes among innumerable evils, as one of the chastisements de- manded by human sin, and in the Christian view, as one of the means of human reformation. The history of human diseases, in conection with civilization and morals, is a work yet to be written by some great and en- lightened physician, who shall realize that his vocation is something more then a mechanical trade, and that God rales the universe of being by moral laws. Such a work would not only be honorable to its author, but one great step in the progress of that social science whose completion is to be the crowning glory of the coming age. In this connection, I quote a paragraph from Syden- ham on " Epidemic Diseases," which if it does not prove that what we call Asiatic cholera prevailed in his time, certainly proves that cholera morbus may partake of the same violent symptoms, and, to a certain extent, be- come epidemic. Speaking of the epidemic maladies of 1676, he says: — ' « Sydenham on Epidemical Diseases, from 1675 to 1G80. CHOLEEA MOEBUS. 213 "At the end of summer, the cholera morbus raged epi- demically, and being heightened by the unusual heat of the season, the symptom of convulsions that accompanied it were more violent and continued longer then ever I ob- served before, for they did not only seize the beliy, as they were wont, but now all the muscles of the body, and the arms and legs were especially seized with dread- ful convulsions, so that the sick would sometimes leap out of bed, endeavoring, by stretching his body every way, to suppress the violence of them ; but though this disease did not require any new method of cure, yet stronger anodynes, and oftener repeated, were plainly indicated." Sydenham then mentions that he gave liquid laudanum, and frequently repeated, to patients near dying with convulsions, cold sweats, and whose pulse could scarcely be felt.* Unquestionably, the cholera morbus did not become such a pestilence, attacking so many thousands then, as the Asiatic cholera has done since ; but when Syden- ham describes it as an epidemic raging, as marked by spasmodic action^ as reducing patients to death in twenty-four hours, as occurring at the close of summer, and as abating and going off in about six weeks, has he not described all the leading characteristics of the cholera pestilence? Historically and descriptively, I should say that the recent pestilence was not so much a new disease as an old one, made epidemic, efficient, and to multitudes fatal, ,in the economy of providence ad- ministered by the hand of God. Physical causes are everywhere used as instruments in the moral govern- ment of the universe, plague, famine, storm, and mildew » Sydenham on Epidenaical Diseases, from 1675 to 1680. 214 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DKAKE. are the mere physical tools by which the angel of justice administers divine punishment. What then if we should trace every element of disease, mark its pro- gress with mathematical lines, and be able to administer every antidote which the chemistry of nature can afibrd ? "We might save some individual sufferers, but would it stay the pestilence? Would it prevent a new one? Would it withdraw the arm of that angel, whose shadowy wings affright humanity, and casts their cloud upon all the living ? The use of remedies, In individual cases, is taught both by nature and Scripture, nor is there the least reason to doubt they are frequently efficacious. But while we are taught this, both by reason and revelation, we are taught, with it, two great, cardinal, and eternal principles in the government of God, which should never, for a moment, be lost sight of by any enlightened Christian. The first is, that God is himself the great physician ; .a,nd the second is, that, although He has per- formed even miracles to save the life of one man, He has never arrested, or promised to arrest, any of the physical laws of being, which roll on now, as they ever have done, unchangeable, ceaseless, and eternal, throughout the universe. An illustration of both these principles is found in the case of Hezekiah, whose life, in answer to prayer, was prolonged fifteen years ; but it was not done without the apparent use of means, nor was his life pro- longed beyond the period of common old age. The laws of nature were maintained, while the hand of God admin- istered a healing remedy. The Scriptures afford various and ample illustrations of the same principles. Even that stumbling-block to skeptics— the sun standing still over the hill of Gibeon, at the command of Joshua — was CHOLEEA. 215 not an exception. By whatever means prodticed, the course of nature was not changed by that phenomenon. The laws of life went on ; the sun continued his career of glory and blessing, and the omnipotence of God was as much exhibited in the unchangeable laws by which it was held in its course, as in the wonderful appearance of its arrest in mid-heavens. These great facts — that God administers mercy at his own will, and at the same time maintains the laws of physical existence, in a course as fixed and immutable as his own character — explain much of what seems irregular and inconsistent in the progress of society. The Christian believes this ; but even he — to understand more fully what he now sees through a glass dimly — needs an illustration which, I believe, after ages will supply, and which, I doubt not, the better understood laws of nature and society can afford. It is Social science which will furnish another parallelism with nature and revelation. It will give the demonstration to what the Christian believes. It will disentangle history from a mass of jumbled facts, and show a great system of moral causes, all tending to one great end. It will show the ministering angels of God, whether moving in revolution or pestilence, directing them all to human improvement and the ultimate perfection of society. It will show more — that this great end could not have been accomplished without them — that not a blight has fallen on the field, which was not the seed of future good — not a wind brought the plague, which was not the breath of future life* — not an overturn * This has been proved literally true, in the greater number of births which take place in the cholera season, or rather, conceptions. 216 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. among the nations, which did not build up a better society.* Social science is yet in its mere germ, though many of its elements have begun to appear. No small part of it is what a physician, better than any other man, can develop; and he who shall write the history of disease in connection with society^ and he who shall trace the physical laws of life, will have furnished no small part of that great structure of science which the coming age will complete. In the recent work of Dr. Drake on the Diseases of the Interior Valley, there is here and there some tracing of this social science, and his mind was evidently turned towards the dawning light of the new development. It was this which caused him to trace so elaborately the physical structure of the Mississippi valley ; for he saw clearly that this structure influenced the food and habits of the people, as well as the causes of disease. It was this which induced him to trace the history and effects of a disease by the statistics of various countries, and, though he was touching only on the borders of social science, yet the idea of diseases modified or originated by the condition of society, as well as the laws of physical being, rose forcibly to his mind, and he needed only to have lived in a later generation to have been one of the most eminent in the new career. It was September, in the year 1832, when the cholera, which had reached Quebec in May, had gradually as- * It is only necessary to trace to their ultimate effects the over- tvirns which have taken place in great empires, to see clearly that from a corrupted and decayed society there has risen a better one. APPEAEANCE OF CHOLERA IS OINOINNATI. 217 cended the St. Lawrence, swept through the Lakes and descended the Upper Mississippi, was now passing up the Ohio. It came by steamboats, some of which had car- ried troops and emigrants on the Mississippi, infected with the disease. The mode in which it appeared at Cincinnati has never been clearly established. Dr. Drake publicly announced its appearance about ten days before it was generally admitted to exist. In that case, its appearance was prior to any known transmission of it by steamboats. Of this fact he was always firmly convinced. In announcing it to the public, he accompanied the statement with general directions of precaution to the people. These were such ^as were given by the best physicians of New York, and are now generally known and observed in cholera seasons. They related chiefly to diet, clothing, exposure and the early application of remedies. The cholera broke out extensively at Cincinnati about the 20th of September, and during the severe and af- flicting season in which it was prevalent, he was inces- santly employed, and the plague left him, as it did many others, weary with fatigue, and depressed from loss and excitement. Either just before or after this visitation of cholera, Dr. Drake published a "Practical Treatise on the History, Prevention and Treatment of Epidemic Cholera." It formed a duodecimo of nearly two hundred pages, and Dr. Gross states : " comprised an excellent and graphic account of that formidable malady ;" but for some reason was not very well received, and was little heard of after- ward. Probably the fact that J)r. Drake was then person- 19 £18 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DRAKE. ally unacquainted with the cholera, caused an impres- sion that his views and directions were not valuable. The cholera has now visited Cincinnati, more or less, in seven seasons : 1832, '33, '34, '49, '50, 51 and '52, and can hardly be said to have been absent in the last two years — although not epidemic. In these seasons I have either been in Cincinnati or its vicinity, and, except 1852, have been where the cholera was ; and I think certain facts connected with it are historically established, although neither of them really bear on the treatment of the disease : First. The Asiatic or spasmodic cholera, is not a disease of cold weather, but is, lilce the cholera morbus, a disease of hot weather, and like that, rather in the declining than the approaching stage of heat. This cor- responds with Sydenham's statement of the epidemic cholera morbus in England. In every season of its appearance except the first, when it appeared in Septem- ber, the crisis has been in July. Second. It invariably disappears, with absolute cer- tainty, after the occurrence of a few frosts. In this it follows the laws of yellow fever, cholera morbus, and other diseases of hot climates. Once, in October, 1834, it occurred late in the season, after an abatement, but disappeared almost immediately. The weather which induced it was one or two sultry days for the season. Third. The epidemic cholera is not accompanied by any sensible or discernable changes in the atmos- phere. Each summer that it has appeared in Cincinnati, the season has been hot, especially in 1849, and gener- ally it seemed that the malady was the worst on the hottest days. An occasional thunder storm occurred; CHOLEEA STATISTICS. 219 but its effect, if any, was very brief. In the early part of October, 1832, I was descending the Ohio in a steam- boat. The cholera was then in every boat ascending the river, and in many of the towns on the banks ; but I never beheld more beautiful weather, or apparently a purer atmosphere. It was in vain to look upon the face of nature with any idea of finding pestilence there. The earth never looked lovelier, nor did the air ever seem healthier. I was persuaded then, and have been since, by other observations, that by whatever name such an influence may be called, cholera was really transmitted by human movement, at least, in its specific form as a plague. Fourth. Either the influence of cholera has changed the general character of diseases, or such change is a necessary consequence of the introduction of new dis- eases. This I do not say from the testimony of physi- cians, but from my own observation. I know that prior to 1832, the bilious and remittant fevers were at least five-fold as numerous, in proportion to the popula- tion, as they have been since, and especially since 1849. How far this may have been caused by changes in the cultivation of the country and the habits of the people, I leave for others. The fact is beyond a doubt. The social statistics of Cincinnati have been very im- perfectly kept. In fact, they have not been kept at all. Such as we have are the result of individual effbrt rather than of public spirit or sagacity. But even "these may be of eome aid in taking a correct view of such a pesti- lence as for several years invaded this city and country, making a new era in medical history. For this purpose I subjoin the following tables, which 220 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKE. are supposed to be nearly correct, of the fatality and social characteristics of the cholera in Cincinnati during 1849. It commenced about the middle of April, but did not entirely cease till the return of frosts ; but the intensity of tlie pestilence may be dated from the middle of June to the middle of August. In other words, it increased and declined with the heat. Except in the first season, 1832, this has been its uniform characteristic in every year of its appearance. It was so in 1833, '34, '49, '50, '51, and '52. In the latter seasons it was very light. In September, 1849, the Board of Health in Cincinnati returned the following number of deaths, between the first of May and the first of September — four months : Deaths by Cholera 4,114 Deaths by other diseases 2,345 Aggregate 6,459 If we add to this the aggregate number of deaths in the last two weeks of April, and from the first of Septem- ber to the 15th of October, during which the number of deaths exceeded the average, we shall have for six months ■ at least seven thousand, of which four thousand six hun- dred were from cholera. The mortality of the other six months, at the average rate, was only one thousand five hundred. We have, then, for 1849, a total mortality of eight thousand five hundred, which (the population of the city being one hundred and sixteen thousand,) made a ratio of one in fourteen. If we examine this mortality socially, we shall arrive at some extraordinary results. The division of the cemetries at Cincinnati, by nationalities and religions, is so complete, that it is easily determined how many of Americans, and how many Protestants died of cholera. Taking the number given above, of CHOLERA STATISTICS. 221 those who died between the first of May and the first of September, we have this result : Germans, Irish, and Hebrews, died of cholera in four tnoDths 2,896 Americans, English, Scotch, and Welch 1,218 4,114 Mr. Cist, in his " Cincinnati in 1850," gives the com- position of the inhabitants then in Cincinnati. The total population by the census was one hundred and sixteen thousand. The proportions of the foreign population were as follows: Germany and Ireland 44,244 = 40 per cent. Americans, English, Scotch, &c 71,750 = 60 per cent. Now let US make the comparison of deaths, to the various elements of population, during the four months mentioned above. By Cholera. Peatbs. Population. Batio. Whole number 4,114 116,000 1 in 29 Germans and Irish 2,853 44,244 1 in 16 Hebrews 43 2,849 1 in 64 Americans, English, Scotch, Welch, &o. 1,218 70,000 1 in 58 We see thus that the deaths among the Germans and Irish is within a fraction of being four-fold that of the Americans, and double that of the entire population, proportionally. A more minute and detailed investiga- tion of this matter would, perhaps, prove that the pro- portion of mortality was even more than this against the foreign element. Those who would contribute some- thing to the progress of social science, will find it an interesting problem to investigate the causes of this ex- traordinary difference in the mortality of the foreign and native elements. The causes are probably various, but 222 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DBAKE. the greatest among them is the inferior civilization of the Germanic and Irish elements in America. What- ever the civilization of Ireland and Germany may be at home, it is very certain that it comes to this country in a very inferior dress. It will probably be replied that only the poorer classes come to America. Grant this. Then we are reduced to the alternative of supposing the same class in America does not exist, or, that the same class of Americans are comparatively exempt. The fact is, that no class of Americans meet with the same mortality. I suppose^ that the immediate causes of this diflerence are these: 1. Greater density of habitation. Both Germans and Irish huddle together, many families in the same building. 2. Dirty Tiabita. The proof of this is palpable to the eyes and nose of any who observe closely. 3. Disregard of proper diet. Very few foreigners in this country can be pursuaded that there is any reason or advantage in regulating their diet. The consequences of this imprudence are often fatal. 4. Inferior me- dical treatment. This remark applies especially to the Germans, who, with a conceit scarcely ever ex- celled, imagine that in a warm climate, damp atmos- phere, and abundance of vegetable malaria, they can resist bilious disorders with a few simples and plasters. It is quite fashionable to decry the stern old remedies of the American practice, and fly to the wild theories of Germany. This sort of fashion, however, is losing ground. Experience, the great teacher of wisdom, is against it ; and while it is very certain we cannot con- trol the laws of life and death, it is equally certain that science and experience have conquered much valuable ground from the domains of doubt and uncertainty. CHAPTER X. 1833 — 1835 — Vine Street Reunions — Literary Society of Cincinnati — Distinguished Persons — Social Influence on Literature — Buckeye Emblems — College of Teachers — Leading Characters — Grimke — Kinmont — Albert Pickett — JoshuaL. Wilson — Perkins — Dr. Drake on Discipline — On Anatomy and Physiology — On Emulation — On the Powers of GoTernment in relation to Schools. The first storm of the cholera had passed away, and the year 1833 came, when Dr. Drake was found again engaged solely in private pursuits. He was still editor of the Journal, and still surgeon of the Eye Infirmary, but was mainly engaged in professional practice ; and so he remained during the next three years, after which he recommenced, with renewed activity, his career of public enterprise. In this period, one of greater quiet and ease than he usually enjoyed, he devoted more time to his family and personal interests. He then built his house on Vine street, and, collecting his family and friends about him, entered with zeal into those social enjoyments for which he was peculiarly fitted. His son Charles, (now of St. Louis,) was just entering the bar. His two daughters, to whom, since their mother's death, he had been both mother and father, were just emerging from girlhood. For their sakes, probably, more than for his own, he originated a social and literary reunion at his house, which, to those who frequented it, possessed all the charms of information, genius, wit, and kindness. Those meetings are indelibly impressed npon my memory, and though others of similar character have been made memorable by literary fame, I am well 22a 224 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DRAKE. persuaded that they were neither more instructive or more pleasing than those which Dr. Drake gathered round him at his Vine street home. His plan of entertainment and instruction was pecu- liar. It was to avoid the rigidity and awkwardness of a mere literary party, and yet to keep the mind of the company occupied with questions for discussion, or topics for reading and composition. Thus the conversa- tion never degenerated into mere gossip, nor was it ever forced into an unpleasant and unwilling gravity. We used to assemble early — about half-past seven — and when fully collected, the doctor, who was the acknowl- edged chairman, rung his little bell for general atten- tion. This caused no constraint, but simply brought us to a common point, which was to be the topic of the evening. Sometimes this was appointed beforehand, sometimes it arose out of what was said or proposed on the occasion. Some evenings compositions were read, on topics selected at the last meeting. On other even- ings nothing was read, and the time was passed in a general discussion of some interesting question. Occa- sionally a piece of poetry or a story came in, to diversify and enliven the conversation. These, however, were rather interludes, than parts of the general plan, whose main object was the discussion of interesting questions belonging to society, literature, education, and religion. The subjects were always of the suggestive or prob- lematical kind, so that the ideas were fresh, the debate animated, and the utterance of opinions frank and spon- taneous. There, in that little circle of ladies and gentle- men, I have heard many of the questions which have since occupied the public mind, talked .over with an ability and a fullness of information which is seldom possessed EEaNioNS. 225 by larger and more authoritative bodies. To the mem- ber of that circle, these meetings and discussions were invaluable. They were excited to think deeply of what the many think but superficially. They heard the ring of the doctor's bell with the pleasure of those who delight in the communion of spirits, and revel in intellectual wealth. Nor was that meeting an unimportant afl'air; for nothing can be unimportant which directs minds whose influence spreads over a country ; and such were here. I do not say what impressions they received ; but I know that persons were assembled there, in pleasant converse, such as seldom meet in one place, and who since, going out into the world, have signalized their names in the annals of letters, science, and benevolence. I shall violate no propriety by naming some of them, for those whom I shall name have been long known to the public. De. Deake was himself the head of the circle, whose suggestive mind furnished topics for others, and was ever ready to incite their energies and enliven the flagging conversation. General Edwaed King was another, who, in spirit, manners, and elocution, was a superior man, having the dignity of the old school, with the life of the new. His wife, since Mrs. Petees, and widely known for her active benevolence, and as the founder of the Philadelphia School of Design, con- tributed several interesting articles for the circle, and was a most instructive member. Judge James Hall, then editor of the Western Monthly Magazine, whose name is known both in Europe and America, was also there. Professor Stowe, unsurpassed in biblical learn- ing, contributed his share to the conversation. Miss Haeriet Beechee, now Mrs. Stowe, was just beginning to be known for her literary abilities, and about that 226 LIFE OF DE. DAIHEL DRAKE. time contributed several of her best stories to the press. She was not a ready talker, but when she spoke or wrote, showed both the strength and the humor of her mind. Her sister, Miss Catharine Beechee, so well known for her labors and usefulness in the cause of female education, was a more easy and fluent conver- sationalist. Indeed, few people have more talent to entertain a company, or keep the ball of conversation going, than Miss Beecher ; and she was as willing as she was able. Conspicuous, both in person and manners, was Mrs. Caeoline Lee Hentze, whom none saw without admiring. She was what the world calls charming, and though since better known as an authoress, was person- ally quite remarkable. She, and her highly educated husband, a man on some subjects quite learned, but of such retiring habits as hid him from the public view, were then keeping a popular female seminary in Cincin- nati. They were among the most active and interesting members of our coterie. I might name others, whose wit or information contributed to the charms of our intercourse, but I should want the apology which public fame has given to the mention of these. In the current of private life, it often happens that those unknown to the public are the most genial and inspiring spirits of the social circle. Like the little stream which flows among the lofty hills, they sparkle as they flow, and shine in the shade. We had more than one such, and while memory sees first the feme-covered hill, it dwells longest and closest with those who cast sunshine on our path, and made life happy as it was bright. That time has gone on the wings of twenty years, and never, in so brief period, were greater or more rapid changes. Not only is this great city six-fold its then SOCIAL MEETINGS AT LUDLOW STATION. 227 magnitude, presenting, over river, plain, and hill, the aspect of some modern Babylon ; but they who then met with us iu happy converse — where are they ? In vain do we search the busy streets. Some we must seek in the silent grave ; others in far distant lands ; and we recall these scenes only by the light of a memory which again brings the dead and the parted together. Even now, while I write, two of our number are dwelling in the sunny plains of the south ; five are in New England ; one is on the Mississippi ; one is in ancient Eome ; others are in their tombs ; and the fewest of our number remain. The great stream of the world rolls on. We are borne along by its current, leaving the past only to be remembered, and the future only to be discerned through the shadowy haze of the horizon. These social meetings were held just a quarter of a century after those of a different, but equally pleasant, kind with which he was associated at Ludlow Station. There his life seemed to be quickened and brightened, and there it was made happy by the first smiles of his wife. Now he seemed to have substituted his children for her, and in these meeting to revive the glow, as well as the memory of his earlier years. He acquired new vigor ; and in the midst of the circle, he was the center of society and the inspirer of the occasion. He made them such as oases are in the desert, refreshing to the weary traveler, and seeming to give forth life and strength to last through the heat and labor of the jour- ney. Alas ! that we should meet such scenes so sel- dom, and when passed we should meet them no more ! 1 have dwelt more particularly on these meetings to illustrate what I think I have seen in other cases, and to which people in general seldom give due weight. I 228 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKE. mean the influence of social sympathy in forming and developing individual minds. Several years since, I beard one of oldest and most experienced teachers in the United States,* enumerate a number of distinguished public men in New York, who had all been pupils, at one time, of one school. Among these were the most emi- nent literary men of that State. I cannot doubt that they greatly influenced one another in their tastes and studies, for I have seen that in other schools and societies. If the history of literature and science be ever justly and philosophically written, it will be found that they owe more to the social faculties of man, than man owes to them. It is in the collision of minds that the fire of genius is struck out. It is in the communion of spirits that there bursts out from the cloud those flashings of a light within, which gives us a momentary glance at what the spirit was before darkness passed over Eden. It is the mutual hints, the continual inquiries, the accretions from different minds, the brilliant thought gradually elaborated, and the suggestions of excited imagination, which make up the beautiful woof of literature and the brightest inventions of science. The solitary student may work hard and well, but at last, unexcited by new suggestions and unsupported by kindly praise, he droops upon his wing and tires of his lonely flight ! I must not leave these meetings without recording another characteristic of them, and of Dr. Drake. When, after one or two seasons, he became intensely interested in the Medical Department of Cincinnati College, the strictly literary character of these meetings * Mr. Albert Pickett, who was almost tlie father and head of public teachers at this time. SOCIAL QUALiriES OF DE. DEAKE, 229 gave way to larger and more general assemblies, embrac- ing other classes of mind. In these meetings, as in fact in all the after part of his life, he was fond of recurring to the pioneer customs, and of reviving, as it were, the manners and memories of the early settlers. Himself a pioneer, no one did more to excite and pre- serve a respect for their lives and works. He had good reason to know, by his own observation, how much they bad achieved, and how nobly they had earned the respect of posterity. Not only the mighty forest and its savage occupants had fallen before them, but in the midst of that forest they had reared the hamlet, town, and city ; the school giving light to the unlettered minds, and the church raising its anthems of praise to the living God. Here were political institutions which surpassed all the wisdom of Greece, and here were a people whose struc- ture of greatness was built on these works and institu- tions of pioneer planting. They are worthy of memory. In the period of which I now speak, scarcely any of these meetings took place in which the doctor did not in some way remind his guests of early customs. The Buckeye^ being the supposed emblem of the State, was a favorite term and symbol with him. In the evening he would frequently have a large buckeye bowl on his table, filled with some innocent beverage, and in the season of it, the buckeye blossom and branches would be overspread ; and then corn bread and corn cake might be found by its side. These were simple matters, but they indicated the bent of his mind, and gave rise to many a pleasant little speech. With all this, he fur- nished what was more and better than all, the cheer- ful spirit, the warm hospitality, which signalized the pioneers of the West. 230 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. On the 7th of April, the anniversary of the first settlement of the State, he was more than once the orator of the occasion, and gave to it all the interest which genius knows how to throw around its subject. The West — the green and beautiful West — was not only his home, but literally his love, the object for which he lived and labored, whose rising glory he beheld with de- light, and whose increasing splendors shone upon his brow in the sunset of life. How much the West owes to him will not be known now ; but when what he has founded and begun has loomed into towering magnitude, his name will be found inscribed in the imperishable granite of its structure. About the year 1833, was founded what was called the " College op Teachers," which continued ten years, and was an institution of great utility and wide influence. Its object was both professional and popular ; to unite and improve teachers, and, at the same time, to com- mend the cause of education to the public mind. The former object might have been obtained by the meeting of practical teachers only ; but the latter required that gentlemen of science and general reputation, who had weight with the community, should also be connected with it. Accordingly, a large array of distinguished persons took part in its proceedings ; and I doubt whether in one association, and in an equal space of time, there was ever concentrated in this country, a larger measure of talent, of information, and of zeal. Among those who either spoke or wrote for it, were Albert Pickett, the President, and for half a century an able teacher, Dr. Drake, the Hon. Thomas Smith Grimke, the Rev. JosHCJA L. Wilson, Alexander Kinmont, and James H. Perkins, (all of whom are dead,) Professor Stowb, COLLEGE OF TEACHERS. 231 Dr. Beechee, Dr. Alexander Campbell, Arch Bishop PuBCELL, President McGuffey, Dr. Atdelotte, Mrs. Lydia Sigoukney, and Mrs. Caeoline Lee HENarzE. With these were numerous professors, teachers, and citizens, zealous for the promotion of education, most of •whom contributed more or less to the transactions of the college. These transactions were for several years em- bodied in annual volumes, in which may be found many able and eloquent treatises on various subjects. The duty of organization and publication, in fact that of practically sustaining the association, fell mainly on the working teachers of Cincinnati, and for this reason, probably, it ultimately died away and lost its popular character. The associations of practical teachers have taken its place, and been, beyond doubt, useful and instructive to the teachers. Yet there is wanting some popular means of connecting teachers with the great public ; and I am convinced that the College of Teach- ers, and of literary men, was the best reunion of this sort yet devised, and for which no substitute has been found. I have observed that while all trades and pro- fessions need, for certain purposes, associations within themselves, yet that in those associations they never rise above themselves. It all smells of the shop. To improve individually, or to elevate a class, there must be the communion of various minds. There must be ideas from without as well as within. The human spirit, like a plant, needs a genial soil, and draws nutriment from the whole atmosphere. To nurture it with only one element, and cast it ofi" from all its natural surround- ings, is to dwarf its growth, and while it may be perfect of its kind, is to render that kind below the magnitude and elevation to which it might have aspired. 232 LIFE OF DE. DANBEL DEAKK. In the meetings and objects of the College of Teach- ers, Dr. Drake felt profound interest, and took an active part. The very name of teacher was dear to him. To be a teacher in his own profession, he thought to be his peculiar gift ; nor did he confine himself to that only ; he sought the society of clergymen, of professors, teachers, in fine, of all who by teaching sought to improve and regenerate the race. In the early meetings of the college he took part, and in its proceedings are recorded several valuable lectures and reports from his pen. In the session of October, 1834, Dr. Drake pronounced a very elaborate " discourse on the Philosophy of Family, School, and College Discipline." This was one of the best written and ablest of his occasional productions. It may be found, at full length, in the second published volume of the transactions of the College of Teachers, for the year 1834. The peroration is a fair sample of his spirit and style. After recapitulating the principles of the discourse, he says, that they are particularly adapted to the West, and proceeds thus : " The West will not go backward in numbers — no, not till the great rivers shall turn from the sea, and seek its icy cataracts among our distant hills. Forward will be her march — and day after day must add to her physi- cal strength ; but she should not rejoice in this power, and become the mammoth of the Union, or the bones of her prosperity will, at last, be unbnried in the vallies, and mingle with those of her lost archetype. " Let all those who love its name — who beholding it, in the dim and distant future, can now take delight in the strength and beauty which should mark its perfect growth; or mourn, while the day is yet afar off, at the vice and anarchy, which may overwhelm it, as the angry COLLEGE OF TEACHEKS. 233 Bnows of the mountain dissolve and swell with troubled waters the peaceful Ohio, till they deluge our pleasant places, and rush in desolation along our streets. Let all who feel proud that the yoiee of its infancy has called the enterprising stranger from lands beyond the sea — from the isles of Britain — from the banks of the Danube and the valleys of the Alps — from the frozen coasts of the Baltic and the classic shores of the Mediterranean — from the olive and the vine — to build his cabin beneath our embowering sycamores. Let all who would rejoice to see it, not only the asylum of the exile from the uttermost parts of an oppressed world, but the chosen and perma- nent abiding place of knowledge, religion, and liberty, stand forth while it is yet in the morning of its days, and will bow its head to the rod of discipline, to lend a help- ing hand in training its young footsteps, and giving them an impulse on the paths of loveliness, and peace." In the course of debates on public education, the powers of government over the schools were sometimes discussed. In one of these discussions. Dr. Drake took the ground, that education of some kind should be com- 2>ulsory ; that is, that no man, in a republic, had the right to bring his children up, in primitive and absolute igno- rance. His view was thus expressed :* " Cities are justly said to be the grand sources from which vice and immorality flow upon the country ; the foci whence the principles of wickedness and crime are radi- ated far and wide. But henceforth, let it be said, that ' where sin aboundeth grace doth much more abound.' If we have sent forth, from the fountains of wickedness and pollution, with which our city abounds, the streams of moral death and desolation, let us now send out streams • Traasaotious of the College of Teachers. 20 234 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DRAKE. of moral life, peace, and happiness, from the pure springs of benevolence and intelligence, with which our city also abounds — intelligence elevated and sanctified by the holy principles of divine revelation. All concur in the opinion that a better system of public instruction is necessary; let us, also, concur in a sense of the great responsibility which rests upon us, and co-operate in efforts to promote this grand object. Such a system can never be reai-ed or nurtured in the country. It can be organized and cherished in towns and cities only, and from them im- parted to the surrounding country. Let us not, then, suppose it sufficient for the accomplishment of this object, that we have, at various meetings, passed many good resolutions, and embellished our city with such edifices, devoted to common school education, as are not to be found elsewhere in the valley of the Mississippi. Let us not for a moment indulge the thought that we have fin- ished a work which has indeed only been begun. Am- pler views and a more liberal policy should characterize our efibrts. Our system must be made, practically, to embrace the great mass of the people. It must confer ben- efits upon theni, and, at the same time, open their eyes to the value of the benefactions. The people of the country govern the Legislation of the State ; and their hearty and enlightened co-operation must be secured, or the great object will, finally, be lost, by a change in the public policy. When the people of the country shall become deeply penetrated with the value of that education which our common schools may be made to confer, the public sentiment of Ohio will be sound, and her systems of in- struction raised above the region of popular caprice. I do not despair of seeing public opinion thus moulded and elevated; when the philanthropist will be placed on a ON EMULATION. 235 higher level, and may hope to accomplish objects, which, at the present time, would be regarded as impracticable, and, pei'haps, incompatible with the genius of republic- anism. Of this kind would be a law to compel every man, either in the free schools or elsewhere, to give his children such an amount of education as would fit them, at least, for the proper discharge of their political duties. I am aware of the jealousy of the people on the subject of compulsory laws ; and do not consider the college, as in the slightest degree responsible for the opinions which, as an humble individual, I am now putting forth. I am not, sir a civilian, but a physician ; nevertheless, I have ventured on the conclusion, that a law requiring aU parents to educate their children in certain branches, provided public schools be established, is in strict accord- ance with the spirit of our constitutions, and the most certain means of perpetuating them." In the session of 1836, Dr. Drake read a " Keport on the Study of Anatomy and Physiology, as a branch of Common School Education." The introduction of this study he advocated, in a modified form, and subse- quently went so far as to prepare and print some sheets of a primary school book on this subject. He did not, however, pursue it, and his plan was abandoned. In the discussions of the College of Teachers, he took an active part, and, throughout its sessions, was one of the most useful and instructive members. Among these discussions, was a very interesting one on the question, whetlier excitements to emulation was an admissible means of education ? On this subject there are various opinions. Dr. Beecher, to whom this topic had been committed, (in connection with others on the committee,) made a report against the admission of emulation in 236 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. any form. The other members of the committee, consist- ing of Mr. Pickett, Dr. Drake, and President McGuffey, made a counter report, the leading idea of which was in these words: "That we regard emulation, or the love of comparative excellence, as an original principle of the human mind, implanted in it by the Creator for valuable purposes, and never injurious to the character of the individual, except when the moral and social principles are not cultivated so as adequately to restrain it." The college did not adopt either report, but simply passed a resolution that rewards to merit was a right and proper means of education.* In this place, it is proper to mention some of those who took an active part in the College of Teachers, but are now dead. Many of the living had a larger share in its transactions than those I shall mention, but they are yet on the theatre of action, and their reputation speaks for them. Dr. Joshua L. Wilson was a pioneer in the church, as well as the settlement of Cincinnati. He was not the first pastor of the Presbyterian church, but wiis the longest in service ; I think he was about forty years the minister of the first church. When he began his labors here, there was but one Presbyterian church; when he died, there were, of all kinds, fifteen. The city he found a village of 1,000 inhabitants, and left it, at his death, with 100,000. In this period. Dr. Wilson maintained throughout the same uniform character, and the same inflexible firmness in principle. He was a man of ardent temperament, with great energy and decision of character. The principles he once adopted, • This resolution was adopted, on my motion, and cut off the adoption of the other reports. JOSHUA L. WILSON. 237 he held with indomitable courage and unyielding tenacity. He was not only a Presbyterian, but one of the strictest sect. It is not strange, therefore, that he contended with earnestness for what he thought "the faith once delivered to the saints," and that in this he sometimes appeared as much of the soldier as the saint. In consequence of these characteristics, many persons supposed him a harsh or bigoted man. But this was a mistake, unless to be in earnest is harshness, and to maintain one's principles bigotry. On the contrary, Dr. Wilson was kind, charitable, and, in those things he thought right, liberal. Among these was the great cause of popular education. Of this he was a most zealous advocate, but demanded that education should be founded on religion, and the Bible should be a pri- mary element in all public education. At the session of the College of Teachers in 1836, Dr. Wilson delivered an address on the proposition, that " a thorough system of universal instruction is not only desirable, but prac- ticable." He closed the address with these remarks, which may be taken as an example of his style and sentiments : " But to sum up what ' have said — ' God has made of one blood all nations of men.' These natures of ours, which climate, custom, language, and religion, have made appear so opposite, are formed after the same image. Is the rude Hottentot superior to the ape ? It is because he is a man, and not a brute. Is the civilized man superior to the Hottentot? It is because he is instructed and educated. Is the Christian superior to the Pagan ? It is because he knows the Bible and its divine Author. Correct instruction raises a man above the degrading dominion of sense — teaches him to respect 238 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DRAKE. the voice of reason — reminds him of the necessity of subordination to coustituted authorities — convinces him how much individual happiness is secured by submission to good laws — and even expands his selfish feelings into the purest patriotism. It is instruction which leads man to understand the ties which unite him with his friends, with his kindred, with the great family of man, made up of all families ; it makes his bosom glow with social tenderness, and enables him to gather his purest happi- ness from blessing others, and seeing others blest. It ia right instruction that elevates the thoughts of man wwards his Creator, gives constancy to virtue in the midst of trials, screens the mind in the hour of tempta- tion, and leads to the repose of piety in the wisdom, goodness, and omnipotence of God." Albert Piokett, President of the College of Teach- ers, was a venerable grey-haired man, who had been for near fifty years a practical teacher. He had many years kept a select school or academy in New York, in which, I gathered from his conversation, many of the most emi- nent literary men of New York had received their early education. He removed to Cincinnati a few years be- fore the period of which 1 speak, and established a select school for young ladies. He was a most thorough teacher, and a man of clear head, and filled with zeal and devotion for the profession of teaching. He was a simple-minded man ; and I can say of him, that I never knew a man of more pure, disinterested zeal in the cause of education. He presided in the college with great dignity, and in all the petty controversies which arose, poured oil on the troubled waters. Alexander Kinmont might be called an apostle of classical learning. If others considered the classics ALEXANDEE KINMONT. 239 necessary to an education, he thought them the one thing needful — the pillar and the foundation of solid learning. For this he contended with the zeal of martyrs for their creed ; and if ever the classics received aid from the manner in which they were handled, they received it from him. He was familiar with every passage of the great Greek and Koman authors, and eloquent in their praise. When he spoke upon the subject of classical learning, he seemed to be animated with the spirit of a mother defending her child. He spoke with heart-warm fervor, and seemed to throw the wings of his strong in- tellect around his subject. Mr. Kinmont was a Scotch- man, born near Montrose, Angusshire. He very early evinced bright talents, and, having but one arm, at about twelve years of age, was providentially compelled to pursue the real bent of his taste and genius towards learning. In school and college he bore oQ' the first prizes, and advanced with rapid steps in the career of knowledge. At the university of Edinburgh, which he had entered while yet young, he became tainted with the scepticism then very prevalent. Removing soon after to America, he became principal of the Bedford Academy, where he shone as a superior teacher. There also, he emerged from the gloom and darkness of scepticism to the faith and fervor of the " New Church," as the church founded on the doctrines of Swedenborg is called. His vivid imagination was well adapted to i-eceive their doc- trine, and he adopted and advocated them with all the fervor of his nature. In 1827 he removed to Cincinnati, and established a select academy for the instruction of boys in mathemati- cal and classical learning. The motto he adopted, was 240 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DKAKE. "«i! glorice Dei, et utilitate hominum ;" a motto which does honor both to his head and heart. * In 1834-35, he appeared before the College of Teach- ers in opposition to the doctrines of Mr. Grinke, which were in lavor of an American education, as he termed it, in opposition to the recognized and almost universal basis of instruction — mathematics and the classics. On this occasion he rose to the highest style of oratory, and swinging his one arm about, and throwing his eyes up ' — : — " In a fine phrenzy rolling," he seemed like the spirit of one of the ancient Myths, or of those who iiaunt the woods of Parnassus, or the springs of Helicon. The midnight hour came and went before his enchained audience thought of time or weariness. In 1837-38 he delivered a course of lectures on the " Natural History of Man," which was published as a posthumous work ; for in the midst of the labor of its preparation he died. Kiumont made a profound impression upon those who knew him ; and to me he had the air and character of a man of superior genius, and, (what is very rare,) of one whose learning was equal to his genius James H. Peekins took little part in the college, but was one of the literary circle of which it was mainly constituted. He was highly educated, came out to Cin- cinnati as a lawyer, was a year or two editor of the Chronicle, and, finally, minister of the Unitarian Church in this city, where he made a strong impression. He died young, and was most profoundly lamented by a "Biographical notice attached to the Natural History of Man. JAMES H. PBEKIN9. 241 large circle of friends, and held in honorable memory by the community in which he had lived." As a writer, Mr. Perkins was remarkably graceful and easy, and some of his short articles were as popular as any written in the country. One in particular, I remember, was published in the Chronicle, called the " Hole in my Pocket." That article must, I think, have been published in nearly every newspaper in America. Years after it was first published, I saw it in our exchange papers floating about. For one work of his,- entitled " Annals of the "West," the future historian should be grateful. It is the only complete and thoroughly accurate annals of the' West I know of; and, though by no means a histpry in itself, furnishes abundant materials of history. Mr. Perkins was not an idler, but was not very energetic in his labors ; so that, except the " Annals of the West," he left nothing which might be called a monument to his literary labors. Iq character Mr. Perkins was simple, frank, and honest. His disingenuousness was quite remarkable. His habits were plain, and he was far more the student than the man of the world. ThoughtfuJ, studious, and unpretendirg, he was one to be admired by those who saw, and were weary with, so much of the opposite char- acteristics in the great world about them. For se\^ei'al years he acted as a " minister at large " in Cincinnati, and his ministrations were chiefly among the sick and poor. Here it was that he manifested more clearly his real character, — that of an active and positive benevo- lence. The poor blest him, the public praised, and he Went about doing good, with the light of loveliness shining on his path. 21 242 unrz of dk. danikl dkake. Thomas Smith Geimkb appeared before the College of Teachers but once. He was a most remarkabie man, and probably much better known in South Carolina and in New England, than he is here. A most devoted Chris- tian and a thorough American, he had formed some very peculiar theories of education, flowing from the ultraism of these ideas. The classics, be held, should not be taught as a means of education, because they were the literature of heathenism, and inculdated false principles and tastes. The study of Horace, he said, had given the heroic character to the leading men of South Caro- lina, 80 that they dwelt in the ideality of a false heroism, rather than in the plain, simple, practical, and CliriHtian sentiment of America. Hence, he said, flowed the duel, dissatisfaction with the Union, and the outbreak of nullification. Against the mathematics he protested almost equally strong. He thought it unnecessary to give so much time to the study of abstract science, when it could be em- ployed on the Bible, literature, and political institutions. He had another idea, equally ultra : that our language should be spelled according to the sound, after the ex- ample, I believe, of that monstrous barbarism called " Fonetics." Accordingly, when his discourse at Oxford was published, it came disfigured in the most awful manner, with capitals out of place and words misspelled. In this he was the greatest loser, for the address was a most beautiful one, and few read it. These peculiarities, however, could not diminish the high regard in which the character of Mr. Grimke was held. He was a most earnest Christian, a man of pro- found thought, of excellent learning, and of a noble, disinterested conduct. The world has had few who pos- THOMAS SMITH GEIMKE. . 243 sessed such jnst principles, who carried them so com- pletely into practice, and who lived so jaueh for man- kind — so little for himself. His religious character was in all respects extraordi- nary, and carries one back to the days of primitive Christianity. Hie discourses on science,- literature, and religion, (which have been published in a volume,) are filled with the spirit of his piety, turning everything to account in the cause of religion. His labors in the great cause of Christian benevolence, -may be illustrated by the following declaration of the Charleston Temperance Society,* convened on the occasion of his decease, that " he was emphatically the father of the temperance movement in South Carolina. His name stands at the head of the subscribers to the original temperance so- ciety, whose constitution was drawn up by his own hand." He was a member of the Episcopal church, and adorned, by his life and conversation, the doctrine he professed. In relation to this subject, as well as others, he however maintained some peculiar opinions. He believed it the duty of every Christian, ecclesiastic or layman, to preach the gospel to every creature, and authorised to administer the ordinances of religion. He acted throughout as if things were as they should he, and not as they are. He worked to make the world altogether righteous by means which supposed it already such. He was said to have been originally of irritable temperament, yet he had subdued it into the blandness • Biographical notice of Thomas Smith Griiuke, by Edward D. Mansfield, in the Transactions of the College of Teachers ; Vol. 4, page 319. 244 LWE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKK. and courtesy of the perfect ChriBtian. Of him it was truly said : ■ Of Uioso That build thoir monuments wliero virtue builds, Art thou ; and gathered to thy reet, -wo deem That thou wast lent us just to show how blest And lovely is the life that lives for all." I might mention various other individuals, some Oi whom are also dead (such as Lewis, Ray, and Mathews), who took part in the highly interesting discussions and intellectual excitement which attended the annual meet- ings of the College of Teachers, but they would carry me away from my main theme, the life and services of Dr. Drake. Of him I can say, in connection with fcliia subject, that the college had no more ardent friend or active member than ho ; and if ho had any other life- long mistress of his mind than medicine, it was popular education. In another place I have related how quickly he perceived and how keenly he felt the deficiencies of his own profession in early instruction ; and no one, who like him, is a close observer of mankind, can fail to notice and lament that ignorance is the prevailing quality of the multitude. Tliose who are highly and systematically instructed are few and far between. While this remains the great fact in the social history of man, a Christian and scientific education for the people^ will remain the greatest want of society, and the noblest object of benevolence. The '■'College of the People,''''* is the great college for • The term " College of the People " has become popular and c and amount of his own knowledge : but in the case wo are considering, nothing is spoken, nor is there any eflbrt made by the person in communication except that of thinking with energy. When ho has done this for a MESMEEIO SOMNILOQUISM. 339 ehort time, he wishes to know its effect, and then frames and puts the question ; but in doing this, his state of mind necessarily changes, and he becomes attentive to the expected answer. Now how does it happen, that this new state of mind is not impressed on that of the Bomniloqnist, like that which immediately preceded it ? But if impressed, it must bring hers into the same con- dition with his own, that is, waiting for a reply, and of course she could not make it : if not impressed, it is cer- tainly an argument against the infusion into her mind of what he first thought over. The alleged ability of the Bomniloquist to give an account of her consciousness, while the person remains in communication, during which, according to the terms of the case, she has Ms thoughts, is, then, a paradox, and seems to be an absurdity. "I will not, however, dwell on this difficulty, but pro- ceed to state and discuss the subject of intellectual sym- pathy in as fair and candid a manner as possible. "The proposition is, that when a person is put into communication with one who is in mesmeric somnilo- quism, a secret agent or influence passes from him, and raises in her perceptions and thoughts identical with his own ; the evidence of which is furnished by the an- swers which she gives to the questions, which are put to her by the mouth through the ear. The point I mean to discuss is, whether, in reference to the report I am reviewing, it is necessary to adopt the theory of a mys-- terious agency, to account for the true or conformable answers it contains. I shall assume, not affirm, that it is not, and proceed to suggest how most of her answers might have been brought out, according to the established laws of the human mind. "It is an undeniable fact, that a mesmeric somniloquist 340 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. is not asleep, nor in delirium, insanity, or idiotism, but in an extremely passive and quiescent state of mind — ■ not so sluggish and insensible as not to comprehend a question, but too torpid to put forth mental manifesta- tions, without its stimulus. And herein lies the most obvious difference between her intellectual condition and that of a natural somniloquist, who is made to walk and talk, by the quickening impulse on his organs of loco- motion and speech, of a dream or a reverie, the essence of which is an excited imagination. What such an one (the natural somniloquist) sees, is, of course, the creation of his own mind; what he does, is prompted by his dream. The current of his thoughts is strong^-too strong, in most cases to be interrupted, and the individual who happens to get into communication with him, will, in many cases, be compelled to go with the current, or part company; sometimes, however, he may get the mastery, and by his questions and remarks turn the stream of thought into other channels. The mind of the mesmeric somniloquist, like stagnant water, is without this current, but is capable of being excited by external influences, as the pool may be agitated by mechanical force. According to the nature, direction, and mode of action of this force, the undulations and currents establish- ed by it will vary ; and in the same way, when the exter- nal influences, the remarks and interrogations, which are brought to bear upon the mesmeric somniloquist, may vary in their substance or manner, they will raise in her a variety of mental conceptions, stir up her imagination to various creations. Of these creations she is immediately conscious, and her replies express that consciousness. Thus the question itself is what arouses her imagination, and the answer announces, not what existed in her mind MESMERIC SOMNILOQUISM. 341 by secret infusion previously to his putting the ques- tion, but what was created between the time of hearing the interrogatory and sending forth the reply. Hence the necessity of a lapse of time between the question and the answer. In the beginning of a conversation this is sometimes to be counted by minutes ; but after the im- age of a particular object is once formed in the mind, the answers concerning its properties and parts, are obtained in more rapid succession ; because when the imagination has once decided on the object, the various characteristics of it may be created instantaneously, as in the waking state, and still more in dreams. The chief difficulty lies in getting it to decide. Sometimes, however, this may be instantaneous, because what is said may suggest some object, or several, one of which, according to the laws of suggestion will, instanter, be adopted. Thus, to come to the facts of the report, when Mr. 0. D. asked, what have I in my hand ? a horse, a man, a landscape, a boat, and all other objects not capable of being held in the hand, would be instantly rejected, and the imagination would only have to select out of those which could be grasped. In doing this it would of course choose one that was famil- iar, because familiar ideas would first come up. Hence, although the somniloquist might have heard of, or occa- sionally seen, a Hindoo idol, a pine-apple, a pocket compass, or a silver lancet-case, neither of these objects, under the^ laws of mental association, could, present itself to the exclusion of the objects with which her mind was previously, familiar ; and hence she answered " a book," and, under a series of questions which did not deny the truth of her answer, described it as such ; although what he held and saw, was a silver lancet-case. Again. When Mr. L J., while looking at a book, as a first question, 342 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. asked her what she saw, she answered " a building ; " but when he asked whether he held anything in his hand ? she answered something white ; and, under a series of questions concerning its properties, at last had the true image raised in her mind, and it seemed to her like a a book. Further : when Mr. K. L. asked her to visit England with him, it was not at all probable that after having, in imagination, reached that country, she would, on being questioned, see a watch in his hand, or the inte- rior of the Mammoth cave, or a group of Indians, but some object of which she had heard or read, as attracting the attention of travelers in that coifhtry, and, almost as a matter of course, her imagination presented her with the image of an old stone church, of a peculiar kind. Further still : when Mr. G. H., without having direct- ed her attention to any foreign place, proposed to take a walk and see fine things, her imagination would not pre- sent the scenery or objects of distant lands, nor the peo- ple and drays of the streets of Louisville, but some object belonging to the class of pleasant sights, and it fixed on a large building ; and when he asked, what of the top ? her imagination was so directed as to present a spire, the object presented in his mind, and quite familiar to her own from being seen every day. Again : when he asked her to cross the mountains with him, it would at once raise in her the idea of objects on that side ; of which the most impressive are the sea-ports, and instead of seeing cotton- fields, the ruins of Panama, or a book, she would of ne- cessity, the laws of mental suggestion being in force, see something which belongs to the region where, in imagina- tion, she had gone ; and that something was a building, not very high nor very low, with columns ; although the Washington monument, at Baltimore, was in his mind ; NOETHEEN LAKES. 343 and when he asked what was to be seen from the top of it, her fancy would not be likely to picture a cat or a snuff- box, or a painting, but to create, as it did, a panorama of hills, water, and houses. When Mr. C. D. asked her what she saw, she promptly answered a large house, which was correct : and when he inquired what peculiarity ? she answered columnSjWhich was likewise correct. What, at that moment, determined her mind to fix on a building, cannot be known, any more than we can know what sug- gested to her the same object, while Mr. I. J. was looking at a Hebrew Bible, and Mr. G. H. thinking of a human skull. Such answers as the latter relieve us from the ne- cessity of concluding that Mr. C. D. had sympathetically impressed her with the image of a building ; from which we are still further relieved by the fact, that her imagina- tion immediately entered the house which it had created, and consistently presented her with rooms and persons standing." " This extract by no means includes his whole argument, but it is enough to show his conclusion — which is, that mesmeric somniloquism is only another branch of the well-known phenomena of somnambulism; and the facts relating to the answers made, supposed sympa- thies, &c., are only the consequences of excited sensibili- ties and the suggestions of imagination arising out of the circumstances which were familiar to the subject. In 1842, Dr. Drake having visited the Northern Lakes and investigated their characteristics, either of scenery or health, published a " Discourse on Northern Lakes and Southern Invalids,^'' which was one of his most elegant and interesting performances. I extract some portions of it, as likely to please the reader, as well as give a view of his discursive and merely literary style : Sii LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. " When the southwest winds, which have traversed the vast plain separating the Gulf of Mexico from the lakes, reach the shores of the latter, they are necessarily dry and hot. Hence, the temperature of Buffalo, Erie, Cleveland, Sandusky, Toledo, Detroit, ai\d Chicago, in the average latitude of 42°, is quite as great as their po- sition should experience — greater, perhaps, than the traveler from Louisiana or Carolina would expect. But the duration of these winds is at no time very long, and whenever they change to any point of the compass, north or west, they bring down a fresh and cool atmosphere, to revive the constitutions of all whom they had wilted down. These breathings from the north descend irom the highlands around Lake Superior, which are nearly as ele- vated above the sea as the mountains of Pennsylvania, and stretch off beyond the sources of the Mississippi to the Rocky Mountains. In passing over that lake, with Michigan and Huron immediately south of it, the tem- perature of which, in summer, as we have already seen, is less than 60°, these winds suffer little increase of heat, and become so charged with moisture from the extended watery surface, as to exert on the feelings of the people along the southern shores of Erie and Michigan, a most refreshing influence. " From the hour that the voyager enters Lake Huron, at the head of St. Clair river, Or Michigan, at Chicago, , he ceases, however, to feel the need of such breezes from the northwest; for the latitude which he has then at- tained, in .connexion with the great extent of the deep waters, secures to him an invigorating atmosphere, even while summer rages with a withering energy in the South. The axis of each of these lakes is nearly in the meri- dian, and every turn made by the wheels of his boat NOETHEEW LAKES. 845 carries him further into the temperate and genial climate of the upper lakes. Entering it by either of the portals just mentioned, he soon passes the latitude of 44°, and has then escaped from the region of miasms, musketoes, congestive fevers, calomel, intermittents, ague cakes, liver diseases, jaundice, cholera morbus, dyspepsia, bine devils, and duns ! — on the whole of which he looks back with gay indifl'erence, if not a feeling of good-natured contempt. " Everywhere on the shores of the lakes, from Onta- rio to Superior, if the general atmosphere be calm and clear, there is, in summer, a refreshing lake and land breeze; the former commencing in the forenoon, and, with a capricious temper, continuing most of the day ; the latter setting in at night, after the radiation from the ground has reduced its heat below that of the water. These breezes are highly acceptable to the voyager while in the lower lake region, and by no means to be despised after he reaches the upper. " But the summer climate of the lakes is not the only source of benefit to invalids ; for the agitation imparted by the boat, on voyages of several days' duration, through waters which are never stagnant and sometimes rolling, will be found among the most efficient means of restoring health in many chronic diseases, especially those of a nervous character, such as hysteria and hypochondriacism. " Another source of benefit is the excitement imparted by the voyage to the faculty of observation. A* ^ vpatering-place all the features of the surrounding scenery are soon familiarized to the eye, .which then merely wan- ders over the commingled throngs of valetudinarians, doctors^ dancers, idlers, gamblers, coquets, and dandies, whence it soon returns to inspect the infirmities or 346 LIFE OF DB. DANIKL DEAKE. tedium vitm of its possessor ; but on protracted voyages, through new and fresh regions, curiosity is stirred up to the highest pitch, and pleasantly gratified by the hourly unfolding of fresh aspects of nature ; some new blend- ing of land and lake — a group of islands difierent from the last — aquatic fields of wild rice and lilies — a rain- bow walking on the ' face of the deep ' — a water-spout, or a shifting series of painted clouds, seen in the ka- leidoscope of heaven. "But the North has attractions of a difierent kind, which should draw into its summer bosom those who seek health and recreation in travel. From Ontario to Michigan, the voyager passes in the midst of spots con- secrated to the heart of every American ; and deeply interesting to all who delight to study the history of their native land. The shores and waters of the lakes, BO often reddened with the blood of those who fought and died in the cause of their country, will present to the traveler of warm and patriotic feelings, scenes which he cannot behold without an emotion, under which real diseases may abate, and the imaginary be forgotten, "The canoe or skifi" voyage up the St. Mary's, from the Sault to Lake Superior at Oros Gwp^ on the Canada side, is the most interesting of all the shorter excursions in the North. The traveler may go and return the same day, but he is too much hurried for accurate observation, and loses, moreover, the pleasure of encamping a la suavage. To enter a tent, or to bivouac on a sand bank, beneath pine trees, among grass and flowers, uninfested with gnats, musketoos, or snakes, and lodge for a night on a bed of fern, is a luxury of itself; but when we add the music of the waters at his feet, the solemn stillness of neighboring woods, the mingled merriment of the NOETHEEN LAKES. 347 voyageurs and Chippewas, their clouds of tobacco smoke, and the draughts of hot tea, made from the leaves of an adjoining bush, the hypocondriac rises in the morning from a delicious midsummer-night's dream, and goes on his way rejoicing. " In making this excursion, the disciple of good old Isack Walton may watch the writhings of his worm in the deep and pellucid waters of the lake, the geologist break off specimens of wacke and old red sandstone from its banks, the virtuoso pick up shells and cornelians on the beach below, the botanist enrich his herbarium with flowers, the painter his portfolio with original sketches, and the lovers of nature at large their imaginations with the wild and beautiful. On returning, they may de- scend the Sault or Kapids, when, for nearly a mile, their little barque, as if by instinct, will rapidly pick its way through dashing currents and whirling eddies, while snatches of song by the Canadian boatmen, and the startling yells of the Chippewa Indians, will raise a chorus to the tumult of the waters, which their friends below as loudly echo back. "At the Sault resides Mrs. Johnson, the intelligent Indian mother-in-law of the two Schoolcrafls. The elder we have already mentioned; the younger, for seventeen years associated with the Chippewas, lives near her. This place is also the residence of John Tanner, cap- tured more than fifty years ago, on the banks of the Ohio, in Boone county, Kentucky, and introduced to the reading public by Dr. James' naiTative. But a different inhabitant, of more interest than either to the dyspeptic and the gourmand, is the celebrated white fish, which deserves to be called by its classical name — coregonus aZJt<*— which, liberally translated, signifies 348 LIFE 01" DE. DANIEL DRAKE. food of the nymphs. Its flesh, which in the cold and clear waters of the lake, organized and imbued with life, is liable but to this objection — that he who tastes it once will thenceforth be unable to relish that of any other fish. "The island of Mackinac is the last, and, of the whole, the most important summer residence to which we can direct the attention of the iniirm and the fashionable. True, it has no mineral springs ; but living streams of pure water, cooled down to the temperature of 44°, gushing from its lime-rock precipices, and an atmos- phere never sultry or malarious, supersede all necessity for nauseating solutions of iron, sulphur, and epsom-salts. An ague, contracted below, has been known to cease even before the patient had set his foot on the island, as a bad cold evaporates under the warm sun in a voyage to Cuba. Its rocky, though not infertile, surface presents but few decomposable matters, and its summer heats are never great enough to convert those few into miasms. "Situated in the western extremity of Huron, within view of the straits which connect that lake with Michi- gan, and almost in sight, if forest did not interpose, of the portals of Lake Superior, this celebrated island lias long been, as it must continue to be, the capital of the upper lakes. The steamboats which visit the rapids of the St. Mary and Green bay, not less than the daily line from Buffalo to Milwaukie and Chicago, are found in its harbor; and the time cannot be remote when a small packet will ply regularly between it and the first. By these boats the luxuries of the South, brought fresh and succulent as when first gathered, are supplied every day. But the potatoes of the island, rivaling those of the banks of the Shannon, and the white fish and trout of the surrounding waters, yielding only to those of ISLAND OF MACKINAC. 349 Lake Superior, render all foreign delicacies superfluous. We must caution tlie gourmand, however, against the excessive use of trout, {salmo amethystes,) which are said to produce drowsiness ; for he who visits Mackinac should sleep but little, lest some scene of interest should pass away unobserved. "In conclusion, we must devote a page to the natural scenery of the island. Its entire circumference does not exceed ten miles. Seen as we approach from the east, it presents a mural, precipice,, of grey secondary lime- stone, rising one hundred and fifty feet out of the green waters, and decorated on its brow with maples, oaks, and evergreens. Over a chasm, in the verge of this cliff, is a natural bridge, so narrow and elevated that one of the exploits of the daring visitor is to walk upon it. At a sliort distance in its rear stands a conical rock, whose pinnacle overtops many of the forest trees, in the midst of which it has stood in solitary and undecaying dignity, while they, generation after generation, have mingled with the soil. On the western slopes of the island, there is an immense number of primitive bould- ers, from the granitic mountains beyond Lake Superior ; lastly, on its very summit, the naturalist may collect organic remains, and the curious peel white birch bark, on which, should they lack paper, they may write their notes, or correspond with their distant friends. "In a recess on the southeastern side of the island, but a few feet above the surface of the lake, stands the grotesque village of Mackinac, where, side by side, are Canadian, cypress-thatched cabins, and modern frames erected by our own people. On the cliff which over- hangs it, sits Fort Mackinac, with its bristling cannon 350 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DEAKE. and whitewashed battlements. Half a mile in the rear is the plateau, seventy-iBve feet higher, the site of old Fort Holmes, which we have already visited. From this sum- mit, elevated far above all that surrounds it, the panorama is such as would justify the epithet to Mackinac — Queen of the Isles. To the west are the indented shores of the upper peninsula of Michigan ; to the south, those of the lower, presenting in the interior a distant and smoky line of elevated table-land; up the straits, green islets may be seen peeping above the waters ; directly in front of the harbor, Eound Island forms a beautiful fore- ground, while the larger £ois Blanc, with its lighthouse, stretches ofiF to the east ; to the north are other islands, at varying distances, which complete the archipelago." In April, 1851, the National Intelligencer published three letters from Dr. Drake, on the condition of the Af- ricans in the United States, in other words, the treatment, and prosperity of the slaves in the South. . These letters were addressed to Dr. John C. Warren, President of the National Medical Convention. The sagacious conservative and prudent editors of the Intelligencer thus announced them to the public : " We present to the public to-day the first of three letters, addressed by one of the most eminent citizens of the Western country to Dr. Warren, of Boston, on the Slavery question. The high character of their author, (whose name and virtues are household words through- out the Valley of the Mississippi, and honored in every part of the Union,) as well as the great ability and origi- nality of theSe letters, on a subject at present of universal interest, will commend them to the serious consideration of all candid, thoughtful, and patriotic men. "As a teacher of medicine, in the medical schools of DE. DRAKES LETTERS ON SLAVERY. 351 Ohio and Kentucky, Dr. Drake has been distinguished for many years ; and, for the purpose of completing his great work on the diseases of the "Western States, has visited and pursued his inquiries in nearly all of them. He has thus enjoyed peculiar advantages for observing the character and condition of the people, and his testi- mony must be regarded as of great value. The friends of the colored race will find, in the clear and well-con- sidered statements- of the first of his letters, the best reasons for encouragement and hope ; whilst the rash and misguided will, we trust, be induced to consider whether it be wise, by an overheated zeal in the cause of the en- slaved, to disturb not only the good order of society, but defeat the humane purposes now cherished and increasing toward the colored population of the South. Certainly it would be difficult to place too high an estimate upon the merits of a gentleman who, amid arduous professional duties, has found time, from no motive but that of service to his country and his race, to present in so able a man- ner his views on so great and difficult a question tothe American people." I cannot here give these letters entire, and a part would not exhibit their true meaning and character. The substance and principles of them may be stated in a few words. The Ji/rst letter gave a view of the treatment and condition of the slaves in the South, derived from his own actual observation. Having passed his boyhood in Kentucky, and many winters, in his attend- ance at medical schools, he knew the former condition of slaves, and he deduces from the comparison the fact that, the condition of slaves is now muoli ameliorated. In his second letter he lays down the broad proposition, that the free and slave States should adopt this principle, 362 LIFE OF DR. DANIEL DEAKB. non-colonization in the free States, and non-emancipa- tion^in the slave States, except on condition of ieing colonized in Africa. This bold proposition he argued, on the assumed fact, that the negro was, in this countrj', an inferior being, by caste, and that he is not really benefit- ed by being colonized into the free States, while he be- came troublesome, and might, .in the end, be dangei-ous to the free States. In the third letter the same subject was continued, and an argument made for African colonization. The facts stated in these letters have never, that I know of, been contradicted, while the principles and plans sug- gested, continue to be the subject of a very wide difference of opinion, according to the light in which we view the ca- pacities of the negro, and the rights of a human being. I have thought it would not be uninteresting to the general, as well as the professional, reader, to give some extracts from the more general descriptions of Dr. Drake's " Systematic Treatise on the Diseases of the Interior Valley." Accordingly, I have selected several pages from the chapters relating to " Occupations, Exer- cise, and Amusements." They relate chiefly to the life of men on our water-courses, and engaged in inland com- merce. That on Exercise and Amusements relates to the habits of the people generally. LIFE UPON THE GULF. New Orleans is the emporium of the commercial marine of the Gulf of Mexico. Of the other ports, the chief are Ghagres, Yei'a Gruz, Havana, Tampico, Gal- veston, Pensacola, and Mobile. The voyages between these ports, or between any one of them and New Or- leans, are never of such duration as to generate any LIFE UPON THE GULF. 353 form of disease peculiar to the sea. They are made in steamboats and schooners, or brigs. In whatever craft, the sailors and operatives lead exposed lives, while they move in an atmosphere, the mean annual temperature of which varies, in difl'erent latitudes, from seventy to eighty degrees of Fahrenheit; while it is nearly saturated with vapor. Their exposure to sudden showers is frequent — to that of a sun of intense power, habitual, for at least ten months out of twelve; at night they often lie in the open air; lastly, in^ certain seasons of the year, they are sub- jected to the chilling influence of the Northers. Most of them use ardent spirits daily ; and, while in port, where they spend much of their time, many of them dip into dissipation. In addition to this class of seamen, there are the sailors and marines of the United States' Navy, who cruise in the Gulf, and undergo the same exposures, but are more restricted in the use of ardent spirits. A large proportion of all the seamen of the Gulf, are natives of more northern latitudes. In esti- mating the effects of the life they lead, upon their health and constitution, we must deduct the effects of intempe- rance, with its exposures, while they are in port-; and, also, the action on their systems of the deleterious atmos- phere of commercial towns in hot clihiates ; and, having done so, we may say, that they are liable to diarrhoea, cholera morbus, dysentery, hepatitis, aud coup de soleil, in summer ; and to rheumatism and pneumonia in win- ter. While at sea, as on a schooner voyage, from Vera Cruz or Havana to New Orleans, they are often invaded by yellow fever ; and the same disease sometimes breaks out in our national vessels, when they have not lately touched at any port. Such, however, is but seldom the 30 354: LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. case with autumnal intermittents and remittents; the former of which sometimes cease spontaneously during a protracted voyage. LIFE UPON OUR EIVEES. First. In the latter part of the last century, and for the first fifteen or twenty years of the present, the com- merce of the Interior Valley was carried on in flat-boats, which floated with the current, and in keel-boats, and barges, which were, by oars, setting poles, and cordells, propelled against it. Flat-boats still continue in use, but the others are no longer employed. The principal voyages were from the Ohio river to New Orleans ; and the watermen who performedthem, constituted a pecu- liar class : 1. They were, for a long period, exposed to a river atmosphere. 2. Their exposure to the weather was incessant. 3. Their diet consisted chiefly of bread and meat. 4. They drank whisky to excess. 5. Those who returned by the river were compelled to labor in the most toilsome manner, and were often in the water. 6. Those who traveled back by land, performed a jour- ney of a thousand miles, on horseback or on foot, encamping at night in the open air. In this occupation many died of fevers, contracted from lying through the night at the river banks, or at New Orleans ; and rheumatism or pulmonary diseases were the lot of others ; but the majority were strong and hardy — none being more so than those who performed the long overland journey from New Orleans, to the middle portion of the Ohio river, on foot. Since the general introduction of steamboats, the fiat-boat hands no longer return by land; but on the lower decks of those boats, where many of them yield to dissipation, LIFE UPON OUK EIVEES. 365 and the mortality is, I presume, quite as great as among those of former times. Second. The number of men and boys employed in navigating our numerous steamboats, amounts to many thousands. The most exposed and reckless are the fire- men and deck-hands. The diet of the operatives is chiefly bread and meat, with cofiee in the morning. Their labors are heavy, and require to be performed by night, not less than day. They are much exposed to all inclemencies of weather, and are often in the water. The firemen pass much of their time in a heat of one hundred and twenty degrees, and some of it in a heat of one hundred and fifty degrees, Fahrenheit, as I have ascertained by the thermometer, when their pulses rise, in frequency, to one hundred and thirty or one hundred and forty in a minute. , Both classes are in the habit of throwing themselves on the bow of the boat, where they are exposed to a wind equal to the velocity of the boat. To counteract the eflects of these various exposures and irregularities, many of them drink freely of ardent spirits ; and the firemen, especially, regard such driuks as necessary to the maintenance of that perspiration, which cools their bodies after approaching the furnaces, which they feed with fuel. The experience of the most observ- ing commanders is, however, that these and every other class of steamboat operatives, enjoy better health, and have greater strength when they refrain from drinking. As to the diseases to which they are most liable, if I may judge from what I have seen in the Louisville Marine Hospital, and the Commercial Hospital of Ohio, at Cin- cinnati, they are chiefly diarrhoea, and intermittent fever, with its sequela., disordered spleen, and dropsy. Eheu- matism and pulmonary inflammation are, however, not 366 LIFE OP DE. DANIEL DRAKE. uncommon. Finally, a large number are suddenly de- stroyed by mechanical accidents, drowning or scalding ; and a still larger number are driven from empJoyment, to die a lingering death from the diseases produced by intemperance and river exposure. The steamboat river-pilots have a peculiar duty to perform, which might be expected to affect their eyes unfavorably. For twelve hours out of every twenty-four, they are kept in a state of active vision ; at night straining their eyes to see objects by a dim light, or through fog — in the day, having them directed upon a watery surface, which often reflects an intense light. Ophthalmia and amaurosis might be supposed to result from such a life ; but I am not aware that they have often been produced. LIFE ON THE NOKTHERN LAKES. Oiir fresh-water sailors pass their active lives in a mean temperature of about forty-five degrees, instead of seventy-five degrees like those of the Gulf of Mexico. Their voyages are made in schoonere, steamboats, and propellers. The number of operatives is large — quite equal, perhaps, to the number employed upon the Gulf, if we except those coming in European vessels. The lake voyages are generally short, and, therefore, much of the time of the watermen is passed in port. They expose themselves less than the sailors of the Gulf, and are more temperate in alcoholic indulgences. Most of these moreover, ar^ natives of the climate in which they labor. > Thus the causes of disease to which they are exposed are fewer, and they enjoy better health than their brethren of the Gulf of Mexico. The bowel complaints and fevers of the Gulf, especially, are much rarer here; but inter- mittents sometimes attack those who frequent the southern LIFE trPON OtJK CANALS. 867 ehores of Lake Erie; and all are liable to pulmonary inflammation and rheumatiBm. LIFE UPON OUK CANALS. It is a popular opinion that the excavation of canals, in summer and autumn, is an unhealthy employment ; and the history of that which leaves the west end of Lake Erie, at Manmee bay, for the Ohio river ; that of the Erie and Beaver canal, in western Pennsylvania, and that of the new canal, connecting Lake Fonchartrain with New Orleans, seem to give support to this opinion. Indeed, as canals are generally excavated through soils — alluvial or diluvial — which abound in undecomposed organic matters, the first exposure of them to the sun and rains would seem likely to favor the production of a deleterious atmosphere. Nevertheless, we must be on our guard against error in this conclusion ; for. First, Canals are generally dug through low and flat lands, which are known to be productive of autumnal fever; thus there was a marsh along the side of the Maumee canal; and that of New Orleans was dug through a cypress swamp. Second. The operatives ai-e unacclimated Irishmen and Germans, chiefly the former, who lodge in temporary shanties, often directly on the ground, and in- dulge largely in whisky-drinking. Thus, if they had spent the same seasons of the year, under the same circumstances without stirring up the surface of the earth, they might have suflered in an equal degree. But I need not dwell on this point, as it must come up under future heads. The effects of canals on the health of the inhabitants living near them, have, in several instances, been per- nicious. A great increase of autumnal fever followed on the completion of the Erie and Beaver canal just 358 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. mentioned ; especially about the summit level, between Lake Erie and the Ohio river, where a basin to afford water was constructed, by throwing dams across the out- lets of Conneaut lake. Some of the surrounding neigh- borhoods, previously exempt from any fatal prevalence of autumnal fever, were, as we have already seen, in treating of the topography of that region, almost depop- ulated. It is a common practice to draw off the water from our canals, in the month of June, after the spring navigation is over : and the exposure of their mud bot- toms would seem likely to generate fevers ; yet I have not been able to learn that such has been the effect, at least, to any great extent. A large number of boats run on our canals, and as they continue on motion all night, in summer and autumn, as well as in other seasons, through regions which frequently abound in marshes, it might be expected that the operatives would be often down with fevers ; still, the result of my inquiries is, that they are less liable to those diseases than the people who live on the banks of these thoroughfares. LIFE OF THE VOYAGEURS. The voyageurs who ascend our long rivers to the Eocky mountains, and pass over the valley, from Lake Superior to Hudson bay, and the lakes and rivers to its west, merit a more extended notice than either of the classes enumerated.* » In spaating of fljenj, I do nqt refer to printed authorities— hav- ing had ample opportunities of coijTersing with gentlemen who have been familiar with their habits, of whom I may mention Mr. Samuel Abbott and Mr. William Johnson, of Mackinac, Mr. Robert Stewart, of Detroit, and Colonel Mitchell, of St. Louis. I have, also, had some personal opportunities of seeing them, LIFE OF THE V0YA6EUE8. 359 This class or caste of watermen, consisting chiefly of French, and their descendants, began to form soon after that people come upon the continent. From the earliest period of settlement in Canada and Louisiana, the atten- tion of the emigrants was turned to the interior of the valley, which they undertook to traverse by its vast lakes and rivers, in canoes and skiffs, at length called Macki- nac boats ; which, of course, were worked by hand, with oars or paddles, and often propelled against strong and unrelaxing currents. After the conquest of Canada, in 1763, eniigrants from Great Britain began to mingle with the Canadian voyageurs ; and, on the cession of Louisiana, forty years afterward, a new addition was made from the United States ; but the greatest reinforcements have been their own offspring, by Indian women ; which half-breeds or mestizoes, make', according to some com- putations, nearly one-third of the whole. Many of these people spent the whole period of their active lives in the ser- vice ; to which they became strongly attached. The roman- tic scenery of the lakes and rivers, and the picturesque appearance of savages, and wild animals, roaming through deep solitudes, invested this new branch of commerce with a charm, which fascinated the Canadian imagina- tion, and drew thousands into this peculiar service. For a long time, their voyages were performed in canoes and pirogues, of birch bark. Gradually the adventurers be- came familiar with the western shores of Lake Superior, ascended the river St. Louis ; and, traversing a portage, reached the highest waters of the Mississippi, or spread themselves over the distant northwest. Others took their departure from Green bay, and descending the Wis- consin, floated out upon the Mississippi in a lower lati- tude ; while others still, departing from the southern end 8(30 Unt OF DR, DANIBL DEAKE. of Lake Michigan, passed down the Illinois, and ascend- ed the Missouri. Their evenings wore spent in smoking, garrulous talk, and singing. Thoy lodgoil undoi- tonts, or beneath their inverted ciinoea. Many of tiiem spent the winter in thdso iloBoliit.e regions, unwilling to return without full cargdoa of tluwo fiurt, which were the objocta they sought. At all times, while sitting in their eiinoes, they were exposed to every inelemency of weather, and were often undei- the necessity of wading in shallow water. They mingled much with the native tribes, and adopted many of their customs ; intermarried with thcni and reared ui> a race of hall-breeds to become, as already stated, their associates and successors. In the use of alcoholic drinks they were, of necessity, temperate, except when in port. Tobacco they never dispensed with. Tlieirdiet consisted essentially of ninizo or Indian corn ; the variety culled white Hint being pre- ferred. It was boiled in a ley of wood ashes until tlio outer integument could be rubbed oil', and then jiut in sacks. A (juart of this corn, with two ounces of tallow, or hard fat, boiled through the night, constituted the ra- tion of a voyageur for the ensuing day. Free from care, and alive to the exciting novelties through which they passed, no despondency came over them, and the galcLe da ca-nr, and vivacity of the French never shone with finer radiance than on the shores of Lake Huron, or the rivers which meander througli the boundless ])rairies between Lake Superior, Hudson bay, and the Jtoeky mountains. I have spoken uf the voyageura in the past lenso ; but the race is not extinct, though it has lost nuicli of its original, racy character. In latter times, sleumboats and schooners, by ascending our groat rivers, or travers- LIFE OF THE VOTAGKUES. 361 ing Lake Superior, tend to keep the voyagenr in the distant wilderness, and also to limit their number • so that they are no longer constant visitors in St. Louis Mackinac, Detroit, Kingston, and Montreal, as in past times. The voyageurs are generally below the ordinary Anglo- American standard in height ; but are muscular and very strong, from being compelled to carry heavy burdens, including their canoes, around the shoals and rapids of the rivers on which they run. The pack of furs, weigh- ing eighty pounds, rests upon the upper part of the back, and a broad strap, passing across the forehead, keeps it in its place. At the portages, as that around the falls river St. Louis, west of Lake Superior, the common burden for a man is two packs, equal to one hundred and sixty pounds, to be carried a mile ; but Mr. Wm. Johnson, of Mackinac, assured me, that he saw a half-breed, Skauret, (for his name deserves to be recorded,) carry four — or three hundred and twenty pounds, through that distance without laying them down. The voyageurs are not only strong, but healthy. Those on the Missouri river some- times experience ague and fever, from which those further north are exempt. They occasionally have rheu- matism. Mr. Samuel Abbott, in a residence of nearly twenty years at Mackinac, had seen but two cases of consumption among the many who had made that island their headquarters ; and whether they were examples of true phthisis, or only chronic bronchitis, I could not learn. Mr. Johnson, who had spent a year among them observed that under all the exposures of their voyage, from Lake Superior to Leech lake, they were healthy ; but when they came to winter" in huts, and eat fresh meat, they were subject to catarrhal affections. 31 362 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. Since the cession of Louisiana, in 1803, many Ameri- can young men have become hunters and trappers, in the region between St. Louis and the sources of the Mis- souri and Yellow Stone, and have been mingled with the voyageurs, or, of themselves, penetrate to the skirts of the Rocky mountains, where they sojourn a great part of their time. The flesh of the buffalo makes a considera- ble part of their food. SANTA FE TRADBKS. . We come, in the last place, to a class of traders who transport their goods entirely by land. They leave the Missouri river, not far froni the mouth of the Kansas, and cross the prairies to Santa Fe and Paso del Norte, thence to Chihuahua, and in the northern part of Mexico, a distance to the first of seven hundred and seventy miles. The transportation is in wagons drawn by oxen, and on mules. The time occupied in going out, is gen- erally from two to three months — in returning less. The best seasons for these trips are May and June, and Au- gust and September. Some of the caravans have with them two hundred men. Their diet is generally composed of cakes of flour, bacon, and the flesh of the bison, and cofiee ; to which beans and crackers are sometimes ad- ded. They often sufler for want of water. At night they lodge in or beneath their wagons, or in tents ; but after passing the one hundred and first or second degree of west latitude, there is so little dew that no shelter is necessary at night, except from rain, which, however, does not fall very often. The Santa Fe traders general- ly enjoy excellent health. Although their trips are often made at seasons of the year, when various parts of the valley are scourged with autumnal fever, they are scarcely EZEBOISE AND AHUSEMEXT3. S63 ever attacked; an exemption, however, which con- nects itself less with their occupation, than the peculiar region of country through which it is carried on. EXEROISE AND AMUSEMENTS. If hard labor and exposure generate a few diseases, want of exercise and recreation, is the remote cause of a far greater number. There is no country where the ne- cessity for a confined and sedentary life exists in a less degree than in our interior valley ; and at the same time none, perhaps, in which, if we except the British popu- lation of Canada, the value of systematic exercise is so little appreciated. In every epoch of life, our anatomy and physiology demand exercise and recreation. In child- hood and youth they are necessary to the growth of the muscular and osseous systems, the firmness of the nerv- ous tissue, the efficiency of the organs of sense, and the sound and healthy developement of the lungs and chest. Notwithstanding these obvious truths our children, both at home and in the school or college, are allowed to grow up in bodily listlessness, and consequently, they sufier under numerous infirmities of health and frame, from which, by proper physical discipline, they would be protected. The time they do not spend in study is spent in loitering ; as though suspended mental application were equivalent to active bodily -exertion, in the midst of scenes and objects fitted to act on the external senses ; as though leaving the school-room for the paternal roof, would ren- der free and long-continued exposure to air and light un- necessary. Docile or ambitious children, of both sexes, often study too intensely ; and, at the same time, take too little exercise. This is a worse condition than that of mental and bodily idleness, or of close confinement 86i LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DEAKE. without study. From this compound of positive and negative causes, come irritations of the brain and spinal cord, headache, epilepsy, chorea, hydrocephalus, curva- tures of the spine, scrofula, dyspepsia, consumption, and death. Parents and teachers ought to know, that a child cannot, without injury to health, study a great deal, unless it be required to take much active exercise in the fresh air, and that too in all sorts of weather. Throughout the efficient peHod of adult life, those who pursue sedentary employments, as students, shop-keepers, and artisans, of both sexes, take little out-door exercise. Their close confinement renders the stomach and bowels torpid, and brings on dyspepsia ; softens their muscular systems, except such portions as may happen to be exer- cised by their business ; diminishes perspiration and ex- halation from the lungs, and thus renders the blood impure ; finally, imparts an unhealthy sensibility to their nervous systems, giving rise to chorea, hysteria and hy- pochondiasis. All this, in a less degree, may be the fate of those who, from the possession of wealth, follow no occupation, and yet take no systematic exercise. Out of such a state of the constitution grow up various diseases ; some of which prove fatal, while others make the indi- vidual habitually infirm, limit his usefulness, and render the duties of his calling burdensome. In the slaveholding States, and in our cities generally, women, who are not compelled to labor, experience many infirmities, which are the consequence of bodily indolence and inactivity ; some of which, in the end, prove fatal. To the aged, exercise is of great value ; but it should be rather passive than active. They, however, who have been inured to active exertion through life, should not discontinue, but only diminish it in old age ; and when EXEECISB AND AMUSEMENTS. 365 they find it irksome or impracticable, should take that which is passive. Its advantages are various : First. It tends, in some degree, to keep off the constipation, which generally increases with age. Second. It contributes to retard the corpulence which so often renders old age bur- densome. Third. It promotes a more frequent and complete evacuation of the renal secretion, and thus pre- vents the formation of calculi. Fourth. It diminishes venous plethora, and lessens the danger of apoplexy. Fifth. It aerates the blood, so liable to become highly carbonated and black in the aged, and thus invigorates the nervous system. Sixth. It excites the senses and keeps the individual in association and' sympathy with surrounding nature, and thus maintains cheerfulness and serenity of mind, which react beneficially on his body. Walking, running, athletic games, climbing, riding, and swimming, all in the open air, are proper in child- hood and youth ; and, instead of being discouraged, should be promoted and regulated. It is much easier, however, for parents to do the former than the latter ; and they too often take the course which gives them the least trouble, apparently unconscious of the injury that may follow. It is much to be regretted that the art of swimming is so little taught and practiced, as a part of the education of our children of both sexes. Our numerous lakes in the north, our bays, lagoons, estuaries, and crescent lakes in the south, and the rivers which intersect the interior in all directions afford facilities of which almost our entire youthful popu- lation might avail themselves ; and they would do so, if aided by those on whom they depend. Swimming exercises the muscles, the senses, the imagination, and the feelings, in a way peculiar to itself. It is valuable, 366 UFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. moreover, to the skin, as keeping it clean, and hardening it against the effects of rain and accidental wetting. Bnt parents do not encourage their sons to go into the water, because some get drowned. The answer to this is, that more are drowned, in the course of life, from ig- norance of the art, than perish in acquiring it. And they do not teach their daughters to swim, because the requisite arrangements cannot be made without some trouble and expense ; which is the true reason why so little attention is paid to exercise and physical education of every kind. But the physiologist and physician will insist, that the formation of a good constitution in his child, is the first duty of every parent ; and, therefore, that less should be expended on other things, and more on physical discipline, without which solidity and vigor of frame, with sound health, cannot be attained. It is not uncommon to meet with parents who regard dancing as affording sufficient exercise, especially for their daughters. But this is a great mistake. Dancing is undoubtedly a natural amusement, but the instinct was not implanted in us for the purpose of prompting to that exercise, which should be the result of other motives ; moreover, as a hygienic method, it is obnoxious to seve- ral strictures. First. It partakes too largely of the char- acter of an amusement to admit of sufficient muscular exertion, without generating a love of pleasure ; which once established, will render all exercise, not productive of immediate enjoyment, tasteless and irksome. Thus, this kind of exercise may be said to be self-limited. Sec- ond. Children and young persons, when prepared for dancing school or dancing parties, are generally dressed in a way that is unfavorable to the free action of their . limbs ; and, what is of far greater moment, of the mus- 'EXERCISE AND AMUSEMENTS. 367 cles of respiration. Third. They are crowded into an apartment where the air is heated and impure ; and often too, at night, during the very hours when they ought, according to their physiology, to be asleep. Fourth. Some, who have frail and delicate nervous systems, are injured by the music so long acting upon them. Fifth. They are all liable to be injured by the eating and drink- ing which too often prevail. Dancing, in fact, is much more a means of disciplining the muscles, than of giving them vigor. As a mode of exercise in childhood and youth, it is insufficient ; and as a method of amusement in after years, it is neglected by those who, physiologi- cally speaking, most require it. Walking, riding on horseback, and manual labor, are well suited to early and middle life. A daily walk of several miles, by young persons, of both sexes, who are not engaged in business, would be of inestimable value to their constitutions; yet who among us has seen it practiced ? A walk of a single mile is regarded as an enterprise to be remembered with self-complacency ; and if, under necessity, extended to twice that distance, a hardship to be recounted for the purpose of exciting sympathy. Saddle exercise, especially since new modes of con- veying the multitude have been introduced, is so much neglected, that many of our young men do not under- stand the management of a horse ; while a still smaller number of young women are taught to ride, even when time and means are enjoyed without limitation. Yet nothing would contribute more to the vigorous and graceful development of their frames, than equestrian exercise. Our students and literary men might greatly promote 368 LIFE OF DB. DANIEL DEAKB. their health, and strength, and freshness of mind, by devoting their leisure hours to some mechanical labor, when placed under circumstances which render other modes of exercise inconvenient. Many of them are put to study, or assume it, because of their infirmities of body. To adopt such a course indicates still greater infirmity of mind. To adopt it, and then neglect cor- poreal exercise, is fatal ; and yet such is the prevailing folly of our people, that these cases are of daily occur- rence. Many attempts to establish manual labor acade- mies and colleges, in difierent parts of the Valley, have been made; but all have failed, or dragged heavily along. The cause is to be found in the deeply-rooted aversion of our people to active effort, when pecuniary gain is not to be its immediate reward. A young friend of mine, in one of his college vacations, devoted himself to carpentry ; and, without instruction, erected a frame tenement — he is now an able professor in one of our colleges. Traveling is especially adapted to the aged ; and no portion of the earth offers such facilities for it, as our widely-extended Interior Yalley. A voyage from Pitts- burgh to the Balize in cool weather, or from Louisiana to the Lakes and St. Lawrence in hot weather, or from the banks of the Ohio river to the mouth of the Yellow Stone, or the Falla of St. Anthony, in May or June, would, for the aged of either sex, be a good substitute for the imaginary fountain of health and rejuvenescence, in search of which Ponce de Leon sought the shores of Florida. I have already indicated several of these routes, and many others might have been pointed out. Amusement may be advantageously associated with exercise, as a means of promoting it, and, indeed, giving EXBKCISB AND AMUSIMENTS. 369 it greater efficienc/; for that which is not prompted by anj immediate motive, nor accompanied with pleas- urable emotion, is less beneficial to the body than that which is. Amusements are generally sought out by the idle as a substitute for occupation, or by the dissipated as administering to their sensual existence. To both classes they are unnecessary, and serve no other purpose than to confirm them in courses of life incom- patible with firm health, vigor of mind, and sound moral feeling. Properly estimated, amusements are adapted to the physiological condition of the laborious, especially those whose vocations impose much mental toil and anx- iety of feeling. Under such labors, many a constitution of both body and mind, especially in our larger cities, as New Orleans, St. Louis, and Cincinnati, is prematurely worn out ; simply because the irritation of the nervous system is seldom appeased by the genial influence of innocent and cheering amusements. Irascibility, cor- roding anxiety, and a shade of gloom and misanthropy, are the legitimate fruits of over-action of body and mind ; and those feelings, reacting injuriously on both, contribute^ with other causes, to generate various nerv- ous disorders, up to insanity itself. The rivalries, cares, and misfortunes of civilized life, require to be met with, recreations and amusements, to a certain extent, their true physiological antidotes. It is well known, however, that in the Yalley tljis is not the case. Hence, there is no country in which the drudgery and perplexi- ties of business are more pernicious to the constitution. The repugnance of the more rational and moral part of the community, to any and all of our fashionable amuse- ments, is founded on their abuses. Most of them run into some form of dissipation, and become repulsive to 370 tIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAEE. persons of pure moral taste ; while they often prove inju- rious to the health and morals of those who become devoted to them. This association of sensuality and dissipation, with several amusements, keeps the whole in discredit ; and repels large classes of the community from participation in any. Public balls have been aban- doned by thousands, who do not regard dancing as wrong, because of the dissipations connected with them ; our theaters are shunned by the moral portion of the people, on account of their licentiousness and buffoonery; our nine-pin alleys are mere appendages of drinking- houses ; our evening parties are scenes of midnight glut- tony and drinking ; our musical soirees are of feeble and limited interest, from a prevailing want of relish for melody, and the absence of a national ballad music ; we are deficient in galleries of painting, and a taste for the fine arts has not yet been generally awakened among us ; our public gardens and promenades, few in number, and often in bad order, are generally but marts of intoxi- cating drinks ; finally, to speak of the Anglo-American people of the Valley, they have but two patriotic festi- vals in the year ; from both of which, many of the wise and temperate have been repelled, by the outbursts of vulgar dissipation which so often attend their celebration. It results, from all that has been said, that the wearied student and care-worn business man, night after night, retire to bed without having their imaginations and feel- ings diverted from the pursuits of the day, by any scenes of innocent gayety ; and thus their very dreams prey on their nervous systems ; prevent the renovation, which sleep, preceded by appropriate amusements, would natu- rally produce ; and the reinvigoration which is required to fit them for the labors of the succeeding day. DE. DEAKES WEITINGS. 371 Dr. Drake's miscellaneous writings were various ; but it is impossible to enumerate them all here ; much more to make extracts. On the subject of temperance, he wrote a good deal ; on medical education, more. On physiology he once prepared a little treatise for popular instruction, and went so far as to -have a portion of it printed ; but, from some cause, he became discouraged, and never finished the work. In literary labor he was untiring. Probably, there was not a man in the country who, with so little time left from professional labors, had so much for the public service, and literary occupation. He was tireless in industry, ceaseless in enterprise. His mind was also fertile in expedients for new schemes and new works. He was one of those people who were not only active themselves, but kept others so also. Dr. Drake was, as must appear evident from what I have set forth in his memoirs, of a highly poetic tem- perament. Bred up in the woods, his lively imagination seized upon all the elements of nature, and converted them into pictures of beauty and glory. When his intel- lectual and emotional sensibilities were cultivated and brought out by social affinities and sympathies, these too were colored and depicted in the hues of fancy. But the art of poetry, its machinery of rhythm and verse, he had little of. Still, by an intuitive perception of what is necessary to the sound and harmony of poetry, he was able frequently to clothe his poetic ideas in very beauti- ful and feeling language. I have given one example of this, in a funeral hymn, on the death of his wife. I here give another example, and the last one I shall quote. It was addressed to an old and intimate friend, Mrs. M., and found among his papers. 372 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKE. THE LOVER'S WINTER VISIT. ■WEITTKN ON MT TWENTY-FIFTH 'WEDDING DAT. December 22, 1833. December blew his frosty breath, And wrapped the beauteous vale in death. The whispering zephyr ceased to blow, The rippling brook forgot to flow. The waterfall and clatt'ring mill, Awoke no echoes on the hill. The wither'd rose leayes fall'n dead Beneath the snow, no fragrance shed ; The ev'ning star sent forth no gleam. To sparkle joyous on the stream ; No silent light'nings flash'd at ev'n, Nor rising moon shone bright in heav'n. No fire-fly shed her summer glow. In mellow splendors on the snow: The whipporwill, her Tesper lay. No longer carroU'd on the way ; Nor noisy katydid now play'd The musing traveler's serenade. But thro' the chill and dreary gloom. Like wailing voices from the tomb Of the past year, the northern breeze Swept dismal o'er the leafless trees ; Or reared the snow-drift where the flowers Late bloom'd beneath the forest bow'rs : And on the darkness of that night. Fell but the dim and yellow light, Which through the cabin's open seams. Came dimly forth, in flick'ring streams. Now who is he, those gleams disclose. Calm, struggling through those drifting snows 7 Whose fiery steed, the fierce wind's wrath Braves, snorting, on the treach'rous path ? A sanguine youth, with flaxen hair. And brow of thought, slight bent with care ; A son of Nature more than Art, * UKPDBLISHED POETEY. 373 Of rustic mien, yet with a heart So true, so faithful, and so warm, He boldly faced the driving storm A joyous youth with hopes unblighted, His holy vows, not scorn'd, nor alighted; Whose fancy reared the home of love, And, fondly, placed it far above All storms of sorrow and distress. The home of peace and happiness! And who is she that fires his soul. As round his head the tempests howlt The living star, whose gentle ray, Could guide him on the dang'rous way? The lovliest maiden of the vale. The fairest flower of Harriet-dale I Her modest eye of hazel hue, Disclos'd, e'en to the passing view. Truth, firmness, feeling, innocence. Bright thoughts and deep intelligence. Her soul was pure as winter's snow, And warm as summer's sunniest glow. When moving through the mingled crowd. Her lofty bearing spoke her proud. For pride and pertness own'd her power. Ere yet her brow began to lower. But when her kindling spirit breath'd On those she lov'd, on those who griev'd, Joy felt his quioke'ned pulses leap, And sorrow e'en forgot to weep. Before the hospitable fire, She, pensive, sat in deep desire That he might safely, quickly come. Or, fearful, had not quit his home That ruthless night. Then down the vale. Her sighs went floating on the gale, To fall upon her lover's ear, And tell, that she who sigh'd was near. And so they did, or might have done. For now the prize was nearly won ; 374 UFE OF DE. DANIEL DBAKB. Before she hoav'd another sigh The faithful watch dog ••poke him nigh ; And ere another moment flew. He burst, enraptnr'd on her view ; Smiling he bauish'd love's alarms, And clasped her in his shiv'ring arms. A tear of deep emotion flow'd Slow down her burning cheek, and glow'd Like dew-drops on the blushing rose, When morn his joyful radiance throws. That tear, which left its fount in sadness. Pell on his throbbing breast in gladness. Thus, high amidst the brooding storm, The flakes of snow have birth and form. But ere they reach the opening flowers. Dissolve and fall in April showers. TO MRS. MANSFIELD. Thb welcome annual wedding day. As Time flies noiseless on his way. Has come again, and with it brought. Of other days the thrilling thought. Though dark the thought, around it glows The light which mem'ry kindly throws; Tho' deep the feeling of this night, It warms my heart with mild delight. And yet, though many years have fled. And Harriet slumbers with tho dead. These recollections, sad and dear, Draw from that lonely heart — a tear. By nature formed to love and bless Her friends, in joy or In distress. Yourself oft felt her magic pow'r. And never can forget the hour. When, in your mansion, by my side. She stood, a beauteous, hlu»hmg bride. D. CHAPTER XV. Reminiscential Letters of Dr. Drake to his Children — ^His Ancestors — ^His Childhood — Journey to Kentucky — Memories of Mason County — The first Log-Cabin — The Indians — Want of Bread — Indian Attack — ^First School-House — Incidents in Pioneer Life. While lecturing at Louisville, in the winters of 1847-48, and 1848-49, Dr. Drake wrote a series of let- ters to his children, descriptive of his parentage, boy- hood, and youth, with numerous incidents and narratives of pioneer life. These letters may be termed " Remin- iscential," and are written in an easy, graceful style, making in all a small volume. They are one of th'e best records extant, by an eye witness of the settlement, privations, labors, customs, and employments of the pioneers. ,They will make admirable material for the historian, when the present generation shall have passed away, and men are strangers to the events and scenes, men and manners, which characterized the first settle- ment of the West. From these reminiscential letters, I have selected two at random, rather as specimens of a pleasant, easy style, which is seldom seen in his published works, than of the matter they contain. His parentage and boyhood I have traced out in the first chapter ; but these letters will show something of the lights and shadows which are not exhibited there : 375 376 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. LotrisviLLE, December 15, 1847. Two hours more, my dear H , will complete forty-seven years since I left the log-cabin of my father, and the arms of my mother, to engage in the study of medicine in the village of Cincinnati, often at that time called Fort Washington. I am prompted to write this letter by the feeling, that if I had (now that my honored pa- rents are gone, as I hope and trust, to the abode of the redeemed,) a written record of their early lives, it would be to me a most precious document. I may anticipate, then, that when you and the rest of my dear and devoted children have reached ray age, and I have been long gone to join them, as I humbly hope to do, you will feel the kind of interest concerning me, in every stage of my life, that I feel in reference to them. I have, therefore, determined to do for you what they were not able to do for their children, and write down some reminiscences. Before speaking of myself I must say something of my ancestry. Ifow, one of Noah Webster's definitions of that word is, honorable descent, or persons of high birth. Were my progenitors, then, per- sons of fortune, learning, or fame? They were not. So far from it, they were in very moderate circumstances, and unknown to fame. Still, I stick to the word; for, as far as I have been able to learn, they were industrious, temperate, honest, and pious, and to have sprung from suck ancestors is high descent in the sight of heaven, if not in the estimate of men. To sustain such a family character is no easy task. However / may fail, I have a well-founded expectation that my children will not, and that the line of honorable descent will be raised by them if I should permit it to slacken. My father, Isaac, was the youngest son of Nathaniel Drake and Dorothy Retan; my mother, Elizabeth, was the daughter of Shotwell and Bonney. The mothers of both my parents died, and both my grandparents married again before my father and mother were married. In reference to the children, both marriages^ were unhappy; and the narratives which, in childhood, I used to hear concerning the conduct of their step-mothers, made an indeli- ble impression on my mind. My maternal grandfather lost nearly everything he had by pur- chasing and supplying the army of the revolution with cattle, for which he was paid in Continental money, that depreciated until its value altogether vanished. Both my grandfathers lived in the very midst of the battle-scenes of that revolution, and, after a battle was fought in the orchard of grandfather Shotwell, during which the family (and himself in bad health) retreated to the cellar, the UETTEB TO HIS CHILDEEN. 377 British entered the house and destroyed nearly all the furniture. He himself being of the Society of Friends, was, of coarse, a non- combatant; but grandfather Drake was not, and two of his sons, including my father, if not all three, were frequently engaged in the partizan warfare of that region. After the marriage of my parents, about the year 1783, they went to housekeeping on the farm of my grandfather Drake, where the town of Plainfield now stands. He owned a gristmill on a branch of the Raritan river, called Boundbrook, and my father's occupation was to tend it. I was the first-born son, which, in some countries, would have made me a miller. My birth-day, as you know, was on the 20th of October, 1785, and at my birth-place I spent the first two and a half years of my life. Of my character and conduct during that period tradition has spoken rather sparingly, and whether in conduct and character J , P > C , F , or A , is most closely modeled after me, will probably never be known with much cer- tainty. But three things have been handed down with undeniable ■Verity. They, however, were so original as to show that sooner or later I should be a man of some distinction in the world. You have no doubt heard them, but I wish to make them a matter of record: First. I was precocumt, and that, too, rather in the feet than in the head; for when I was in my eighth mouth, I could waddle across the floor, if held up and led cm by one hand. Second, When old and locomotive enough to totter over the door-sill, and get out on the grass, as I was sitting there one day a mad dog came along, and what do you think I did! Strangle him, as Hei^cules did the two big snakes that so rashly crawled into his cradle? No — more than that I I looked at the mad animal, and he thought it prudent to pass me by and attack a small herd of cattle, several of which died of his bite. Third. As soon as I could run about I made for the mill, but whether from the instinct of the anserine tribe, or a leaning toward the trade of a miller, doth not appear; but whatever impulse prompted my visits they were not without danger, and gave my mother a great deal bf trouble. My father and his brothers were not contented with their position and thought of emigrating. At that time, your native State, Ohio, was the habitation of Indians only; and Kentucky was but nine years older than myself. At this time some persons who had emi- grated to Mason county, Ky., returned on a visit, and gave such a glowing account of the country that at length the iron ties of aficc- tion for home and friends were melted, and a departure was dister- 32 378 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. mined upon. The decision extended to five families, the three broth ers, Mr. David Morris, and Mr. John Shotwell. The time fixed on for tlieir departure was the latter part of the spring of 1788. Their first point, Bed Stone, Old Fort, -where Browns- ville now stands. Their mode of traveling was in two horse wagons. The family of my father consisted, after himself and my mother, of myself, two years and a half old, and my sister Elizabeth, an infant, and my mother's unmarried sister, Lydia. Behold, then, the depar- ture ! these five persons, with all their earthly goods, crowded into one Jersey wagon; to be hauled over the yet steep.and rugged Alle- ghany mountains, and throughout an overland journey of nearly four hundred miles by two horses. Their travel was by Conyell's Ferry, on the Delaware, and Harris's Ferry, now Harrisburg, on the Susquehanna, There were but few taverns on the way. The food was cooked when we stopped at night, and befoi'e we started in the morning. As the weather was mild our lodgings were often in the wagon. In this important and difficult enterprise I have no doubt I played (to others) a trouble- some part; but I can say nothing from memory, and the only incident to which tradition testifies is that while on the AUeghanies, when descending the steep and rocky side of a mountain, I clambered over the front board of the wagon, and hung on the outside by my hands, when I was discovered and taken in, before I had fallen to be crush- ed, perhaps, by the wheels. Thus you see my disposition to leave a carriage in suspicious looking places, and take to my heels, was an oi-iginal instinct, and not (as it exists now) the result of experience. I know not the Ipngth of time we were in reaching Bed Stone, Old Fort, or how long the preparation for the voyage to Limestone, now Maysville, detained us. The first and last landing was at Fort Pitt, now Pittsburgh. The danger of being attacked by Indians was too great to justify a landing below that point. The boat in which my parents were, met with no accident, and on the 10th of June, 1788, just sixty-four days after the first settlement of Ohio, at Marietta, we landed at Limestone, which then consisted of a few cabins only, though Washington, four miles off, was some- thing of a village of log-cabins. Before landing father got his ankle sprained; he had to be carried out of the boat, and then could put but one foot on the land of pro- mise. He was not very heavy, for he had in his pockets but one dollar, and that he was asked for a bushel of corn! They did not remain long at the Point, for there were no accommodations, and the danger of Indians from the opposite side of the rivor was great. Washington tETTER TO HIS OHUDEEN. 379 ■was our first resting-place. As father's ankle got better he began to think of doing something, for provision had to be made for a whole year, as it was now too late to plant anything, even had there been -Cleared land to be planted. At that time there was a. great emigration into the interior counties of Kentucky, chiefly from the State of Virginia, Lexington, settled about the year 1776, had in fact become already a considerable town, a kind of mart and emporium for all the infant settlements of the State, except those of the Falls, where I am now writing. Consequently, a considerable amount of merchandize had to be hauled to that town from Limestone, the great landing-place of the State. This state of things offered employment for father, and he and Bichard Ayers determined to go to Lexington with a wagon-load of goods. The enterprise was perilous,for the Indians from the north side of the river were in the habit of attacking travelers and wagons on that road, especially north of Paris. The first night, soon after' dark, they were alarmed by the yells of Indians. Unable and unprepared for any effective resistance, they escaped with their blankets into the bushes, leaving their wagons to be pillaged,and their horses to be stolen. While lying in this unen- viable condition, with no better prospect than the possible preserva- tion of their lives, the yellers came so near as to convince them that the sounds were not human; and although neither had ever seen or heard a wolf, they decided (no doubt correctly) that a pack was near them, and returned to their fire as the safest place. When they reached Bryant's station, five miles from Lexington, they greatly needed bread, as their diet was almost entirely game, eaten some- times without salt; there they purchased a piece of "jonny cake," as large as two hands, for which they paid one-and-six-pence or twenty- five cents. Delivering their goods, and receiving pay, a new era commenced. They had means and knew where they could purchase, and, return- ing, they brought back, to the great joy of their families, meal, but- ter, cheese, tea, sugar, and other articles, regarded as luxuries of the most delicate kind. From the day of landing of the little colony, (composed of the three Drakes, and Shotwell, and Morris,) the older and more intelli- gent men had been casting about for a tract of land which they might purchase, and divide amongst themselves. At length they fixed upon a " settlement and pre-emption," eight miles from Washing- ton, on the Lexington road. Hard by the latter, there was a salt springs and the deer and the buffalo were in the habit, as at other 380 LIKE OF DE. DANIEL DRAKE. salt springs, of licking the surrounding earth. This tract of ona thousand four hundred acres they purchased from a man by the name of May, and decided on calling tlieir new home Maysliclc, a decision sufficiently indicative of uncultivated taste. Desiring to live go near each other that no house, in the event of being attacked by the Indians, would be unsupported by some other, they decided that eveiy subdivision should have an angle, or corner, in the salt lick. Their building now gave occupation to all who could wield an axe, for the colony was to winter here, and the autumn was upon them. As the distance was too great from Washingtou'to permit their returning there in the evening to lodge, their practice was, after supping, to retire into the woods and lodge, separately, among the cane, which flourished in great luxuriance beneath the parti-colored canopy of autumnal leaves. In this way they expected to elude the Indians. No attack was made upon them by night or day, and, before winter set in, their rude cabins, each with its port-holes and a strong bar across the door, were completed. The roofs were of clap-boards, and the floors of puncheons, for sawing was out of the question. Another, and to nearly the whole colony the last, removal now took place. Kentucky was no longer a promise, but a posses- sion; not an imagination, but a reality; they ceased to be Jersey- men and became Virginians, for a time; the daughter was still a member of her mother's house. Now fancy to yourself a log-cabin of the size and form of E 's dining room, one story high, without a window, with a door open- ing to the South, with a half-finished wooden chimney, with a roof on one side only, without any upper or lower floor; and fancy still further, a man and two women stepping from sleeper to sleeper, (poles laid down to support the floor when he should find time to split the puncheons), with two children, a brother and sister, sitting on the ground between them, as joyous as ever you saw Frank and Nell, and you will have the picture that constitutes my first mem- ory. The mordant which gives permanence to the tints of this domestic scene, was a sharp rebuke from my father, for making a sort of whooping guttural noise (which is still ringing in my ears) for the amusement of my sister Lizzy, then about a year old. Thus my first memory includes an acfof discipline by my father, and well would it have been for many who have grown up, uncontrolled by parental admonition, if they had been subjected, in due time, to a parental sway as firm and gentle as that which presided over my cliildhood. My dear H , when I began this letter I supposed that before IJrrTEB TO HIS SON. 381 I reached its fifteenth page, I should reach the events of my fifteenth year, when I left the roof of my devoted parents to begin the study of medicine; but behold, I have only gotten through a fifth part of that period. I have merely finished my traditional narrative — have but reached the era of reminiscence; a good evidence, I think, that, in mental feelings and tastes, I am a little way in the epoch of gar- rulous old age. At the rate I have advanced, the recollections of the next twelve years would make a little volume, notwithstanding I am far from having a tenacious historical memory. To write them down would be to me a pleasure, per se; and the thought that they might afford any gratification to my children and dear grandchildi'en, wovdd give to the undertalting much additional interest. At some future time I may, perhaps, address such a narrative to Eome of you. At present, duty commands me to stop and turn my thoughts upon topics, which throughout the period to which I refer, were so little anticipated by me that I did not even know there were such subjects for the human mind to occupy itself ypon. Should I not read and correct my rapidly running epistle, you will not, I hope, think it strange. It would be no enviable task to travel a second time over sixteen dull and inaccurately written pages. TouE LoviNQ Fathee. XocisviLLE, December 17th, 1847, Mr Dkab Sou: — There are events in our lives of such moment that when the anniversary of their occurrence returns, the memory pf them seems to bring with it the memory of many others, no way connected with them, but in the continued consciousness of the individual. The same is true of nations, or the national mind. When the anniversary of the battle of Saratoga or Trenton comes round, if we notice it at all, our range of thought on the war of the Revolution is quite limited; but on the Fourth of July we are incited to a review of the causes, events, and consequences of that war. The lives of dif- ferent persons, however, are very unlike each other, as to the range of comparative importance in what they do or what happens to them. Thus, some die at three score years and ten, on the spot where they were born, having, throughout the whole period, been subjected to nearly the same influences and engaged in -the same 382 LIFE OF DR. DAKIEL DBASE. pursuits. This is the case with the son of the farmer, who inherits the homestead and cultivates it as his father before him had done. There are otliers, however, whose paths of life are eccentric, and they pass out of the orbits of their ancestors ; are subjected to new influences, both attractive and repulsive, and finally lose all visible connection with the states of society in which they were respectively born and reared. In the lives of such, there must of necessity be decisions, actions, and events of great relative importance. In my own life, my departure from the house of my father, for the study of medicine, was the governing event ; and when the anniversary of that act comes round, it calls up a multitude of reminiscences, by no means limited to the act itself, but ranging far up and down the chronometer of my life. It was the 16th day of December when I started, this day, the 17th, I entered the State of Ohio, to-morrow will be the anniversary of my arrival at Cincinnati, and two days after, the 20th, on which I began my studies, forty-seven years ago; and also the day of my marriage, seven years afterwards. Thus, you see, I am in the midst of my greatest anniversary epochs, and, of course, in the state of thought and feeling into which it precipitates me deeper and deeper, I find, with each rolling year. Under these influences, I was prompted in 1845 or '46, to give E. an off-hand sketch of the circumstances connected with my departure from home; and when the annual exascerbation returned, two days ago, I was prompted to address to H a letter contain- ing a traditional narrative of the events of father's family through the first three years of my life. At the close of that letter, I declared that I should and would dismiss from my mind the matters, a part of which were embodied in its pages; but when I ordered them out they would not go. Even while before my class, engaged in delivering an extempore lecture on pleurisy, they still hovered round, and as soon as I left the university, began to gamble before me as friskily as a troop of fairies in the nectary of a blue violet. I saw then that I had no resource but to drown them in ink and lay them out on paper, like butterflies in the cabinet of the entemologist. This I have now un- dertaken to do; but as drowned fairies are not as fair as the living, nor dead butterflies so beautiful as those which are swarming in the beams of the summer sun, so I am quite sure you will find my delineations very far inferior to the images which memory has recalled into existence. And still there are relations in life — those of parents and children, of husband and wife, of brother and sister, of friend and friend — which give importance, and even sanctity, to the smallest events and LETTEK TO HIS SON. 383 humblest actions; and hence I feel that you and the others for whom these sheets ai'e intended, may find an interest in them sufficient to justify the expenditure of time which their presentation may require at my hands. For the next six years of my life, my father continued to reside at the same place, in the original log-cabin, which in the course of time acquired a roof, a puncheon floor below and a clap-board floor above, a small square window, and a chimney carried up with cats and clay to the heighth of the ridge pole. The rifle, indispensable for hunting and defence, lay on two pegs driven into one of the logs. The axe and the scythe, (no Jerseyman emigrated without that instrument,) were kept at night under the bed, as weapons of defense against the Indians. In the morning, the first duty was to ascend to the loft and look through the cracks for Indians, lest they might have planted themselves near the door, to rush in when the strong cross-bar should be removed and the heavy latch raised. But no attack was ever made on his or any other of the five cabins which composed the station. The first and greatest labor of father was to clear sufficient land for a crop, which was of course to consist of corn and a few garden vegetables. In this labor I was too young to participate, and conse- quently he was obliged to perform the whole. The soil was highly productive, and the autumn of 1789 would have brought forth a sufficient abundance, but that on the night of the last day of August, there came so severe a frost as to kill the unripe corn, and almost break the hearts of those who had watched its growth, day by day, in joyous anticipation. From the time of their arrival in Kentucky, fourteen months be- fore, they had suffered from want of bread, and now found them- selves doomed to the same deficiency for another year. There was no fear of famine, but they cloyed on animal food, and sometimes almost loathed it, though of an excellent quality. Deer were numerous, and wild turkeys numberless. The latter were often BO fat that in falling from the tree when shot, their skins would burst. There was no longing for the flesh pots of their native land, but their hearts yearned for its neat and abounding wheat-bread trays. In this craving, it seems I played no unimportant part, for I would often cry and beg for bread when we were seated round the table, till they would have to leave it and cry themselves. When I was about four and a half years of age, the Indians attacked a body of travelers who were encamped one night, about a mile from our village, on the road to Washington. They were sit' 384 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. ting quietly around their-camp fire, when the Indians shot among them and killed a man, whose remains I saw brought into the vil- lage the next day on a rude litter. The heroic presence of mind of a woman, saved the party. She broke open a chest in one of the wagons with an axe, got the ammu- nition, gave it to the men, and called upon them to fight. This, with the extinction of the camp-fires, caused the Indians to retreat. Seve- ral of 'the men of the village went to the relief of the travelers; and one of them, a young married man, ran into the village and left his wife behind him. tTp to the victory of Wayne, in 1794, the danger from Indians still continued, that is, through a period of six years from the time of our arrival; I well remember that Indian wars, midnight butcheries, captivities, and horse-stealing were the daily topics of conversation. In or near the year 1791, my aunt Lydia Shotwell was married. The company came armed, and while assembled in the house report came that the Indians, about five miles up the road toward Lexing- ton, had attacked a wagon. All the armed men mounted their horses and galloped off in a style so picturesque that I shall never forget it. The alarm proved to be false. At that period the Shawnees, residing on the Scioto, and the Wyandots, on the Sandusky, were our great enemies. The children were told at night to lie still and go to sleep, " or the Shawnees will catch you ! " Through the period of which I have been speaking, and for several years afterwards, as I well recollect, nearly all my troubled or vivid dreams included either Indians or snakes, the cop- per-colored man and the copper-headed snake, then extremely com- mon. Happily 1 never suffered from either. My escape from the latter I ascribe to cowardice, or to express it more courteously, to a constitutional cautiousness, beyond the existence of which my memory runneth not. This original principle of my nature, which, throughout life, has given me some trouble and saved me from some, was, perhaps, aug- mented by two causes: First. For a longtime I had no male com- panions, my chief playmates were my female cousins, and while they contributed to soften my manners and quicken my taste for female society, they no doubt increased my natural timidity. Second. My mother, by nature and religious education was a non-combatant, and throughout the whole period of her tutelage sought to impress on me not to fight. Father was personally brave, and I can now recollect that he did not concur in the counsels of my mother. At the period of which I am writing I had a severe sickness, LETTEE TO HIS SON. 385 occasioned by a fall on the ice, ■which produced an abceas on the spine. I was attended by Dr. Goforth, of Washington, and well re- member how much I dreaded his probe. Already, when five years old, I had been promised to him as a student, and among the recollections of that period is being called Dr. Drake. IS^o wonder, then, as nearly sixty years have rolled away, that I sometimes have a difficulty in passing myself off for the old and primary Dr. Drake. Soon after the settlement of Mayslick, all the people being either professors of religion in or adherents to the Baptist Church, a log meeting-house was built about a quarter of » mile up the road, and Parson Wood, of Washington, frequently came out to preach. He was often at my father's, and used to take me between his knees and talk to me on religious subjects. At length be brought with him a catechism, and when I was six years old, and could read, I was put to its study. It opened with the doctrines of the Trinity, which so perplexed me that I retain a prejudice against all catechisms to this hour. Soon after father settled in Mayslick, a man from Virginia settled on a corner of his farm. The terms were, (such as then prevailed,) to build a cabin, clear as much ground as he pleased, and cultivate it for five years, rent free. This man had a son named Tom, and we often played together — a companionship which at length involved me in a serious difficulty, when I was about six or seven years of age. When his father and mother were from home he and I went into the truck- patch and pulled off all the young cucumbers. The next day Tom's father made complaint to mine of the trespass, and I was brought under dealings. I remember that father called it stealing— said it was very wicked, and that there was danger of my being taken off to Washington to jail. The salutary impression was so strong and durable that I never committed another act of the kind till after I commenced the study of medicine, when (I think it was in the sum- mer of 180] ) I was tempted one morning (Dr. Goforth living where Mrs. Lytle now resides) to clamber over the fence, and get five or six peaches, which grew where Mr. Jacob Strader now lives. I remember another calamitous event of those days. When about six years old, I was sent to borrow a little salt from one of the neigh- bors. Salt at that time was about three dollars a bushel: It was a small quantity, tied up in paper, and when I had gotten half way home the paper tore, and most of the precious grains rolled out on the ground. As I write the anguish I felt at that sight seems to be almost revived. I had not then learned that the spilling of salt is portentous, but felt that it was a great present calamity. Mother 33 386 LIFE OF DE. DAinEL DKAKE. had taught me to consider the waste of bread, or anythiog that could be used as food, as sinful. When I recur to this and other incidents which I cannot definitely relate, I discover that it was an original trait of character with me, to aim at a faithful execution of whatever was confided to me; and I felt unhappy if, through neglect or misfortune, I made a failure. To this hour I am more solicitous about that which is entrusted to me, than that which is entirely my own; and hence, I have given a good deal of time to public affairs (on a small scale to be sure), but often at the expense of my private interests. But never mind ! My first schoolmaster had the Scotch name of M'Quilty, but whether he was from the " land o' cakes " I cannot tell. He taught in a. small log-cabin in sight of father's, up the brook which runs through Mayslick, and a very beautiful stream it was when it had any water running in it. Although the country was so newly settled, our locality presented strange people, and novel and curious sights. The emigration into Kentucky at that period was immense, and nearly the whole passed through Mayslick. Many of the travelers were wealthy, and as the roads did not admit of carriages, they journeyed on horseback. I often saw ladies and gentlemen riding side by side, and remember that I thought that the latter must be the happiest persons on earth, an estimate which nearly sixty years has not entirely overruled. From the reminiscence to which I have just recurred, I find that admiration for the sex was among the earliest sentiments developed in my moral nature. It has swayed me through life, and will, I suppose, continue to govern me to its close. When that solenm event shall come, I hope to see female faces round my bed, *' And wish a woman's hand to close My lids in death, and say — Sepose 1 " For several years our chief article of cultivation was Indian com, but near the center of the field, in some spot not easily found by trespassers, was a truck-patch, in which water-melons and musk- melons were planted, whUe in some corner we had a turnip patch. If the former supplied the place of peaches in their season, the latter were a substitute for apples throughout the winter. The virgin soil of Kentucky produced the best turnips that ever grew; the tubers literally rested on the ground, and only sent their spindle-shaped roots into the loose black mold below. In winter, when at night the family were seated round a. warm fire, made blazing bright with pieces of hickory bark, a substitute for candles, and every member LETTER TO HIS SON. 387 was engaged with a knife in scraping and eating a juicy turnip, the far-famed pears and apples of their native Jersey were forgotten by the old people, and the perils and privations wliich followed on their arrival were remembered only to be rehearsed to their children. Seve- ral luxuries from the surrounding woods were, on other evenings, substituted for that which, much more than the potatoe, deserves the name olpomme de terre. These luxuries were walnuts, hickory nuts, and winter grapes. As it is now after one o'clock A. M., I shall reserve further remi- niscences to another time. Your ArFEOiioNATE Fatheii, CHAPTER XVI. Dr. Crate's Beligious Life — Religious 'Writings — Character — Profes- sional Objects — Family — Last Sickness — Death. I SHALL close this brief and yet faithful narrative of the life and services of a man of genius and of science, with some account of his inner life and spirit. The fruit tree is many years in growing — all the time gaining something and loving ; but it is not till the period of change is nearly past, till the tree has magnitude and age, that it discloses to the view what is its real charac- ter and elements. The unfolding must be complete or a part is hid, and we can only imagine what it might have been. In the moral life of man, a large part — generally the greater part — is composed of a series of conflicts — the moral battle of life — in which it is quite uncertain for a time, what the issue may be. "We look upon young men and think them nearly perfect, so high is their promise, and yet in a short time see them laid in moral ruin. The battle of life has gone against them. The spirit of darkness has prevailed. On the other hand, we see those of whom we have doubts ; talents they have, but they are strongly tempted. Sometimes they stumble and, for a moment, fall, but the angel of their destiny still upholds them, and, in spite of faults and failings, we see them recover. Their sun passes the meri- dian in splendor and sets, leaving behind them a calm, quiet, peaceful light. Dr. Drake, in his early life, belonged not exactly to 388 HIS EELiaiOITS CHARACTER. 389 either of these classes, but had to pass through his period of probation, of trial, of earnest labor, of temptation, of conflict, and this was long developing, but brightening all the time, till his career ended in the bright and peace- ful light. I have related elsewhere, that Dr. Drake's parents were extremely pious persons — both Baptists, in Ken- tucky, though their ancestors in Jersey were of other persuasions. The early teachings and admonitions of his mother, especially, seem to have been incessant. To him she continually gave line upon line and precept upon precept. She always had, also, with her son a perfect confidence ; so that in a long correspondence, during many years, there is always exhibited to him absolute frankness. This piety of ancestors and influence of mothers, seems to be that means which God makes the real angel of destiny to guide and save many from destruction. It is hard to conceive, for a young man, a period of greater peril and temptation than that which surrounded Dr. Drake on his first arrival in Cincinnati. Yet he withstood these temptations, passed the trial safely^ and led a pure and honorable life. In all this, however, he had no very deep religious feeling. On the contrary, in the active and ambitious part of his career, his mind was in- tently engaged on the struggles of his profession and his business. At times he had, like many others, his periods of doubt, but never of total eclipse. In one word, he was actively, zealously engaged in the afiairs of the world, giving little time to the calm, serious meditation of the solemn truths of religion and eternity. Alas ! of how few, even in the church, can we say anything better ? But the grea.t principle of Christianity was implanted in 390 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. early life, and he never lost sight of it. Like the vision of his early ambition, as depicted by himself, it returned at last to bless him. He was always attached to the Episcopal Church, and somewhere about 1815, the First Episcopal Church of Cincinnati, (now Christ Church,) was organized in his house, corner of Third and Ludlow streets.- I know not the circumstances which induced his attachment to the Episcopal Church, when his parents were Baptists, and his old friend, Dr. Wilson, the Presbyterian pastor ; but I suppose it safe to say that it was owing to his wife, who belonged to an Episcopal family. The death of that wife made a deep, enduring impression upon him, in many ways. It dwelt upon him ; and while mourning for her, his mind turned inwardly upon himself ; and in the midst of his most active and interesting labors, there were times when he looked in upon that wonderful world in which dwells the soul, and out upon that world of being in which imagination soars, and beyond, to that deeper and more glorious world which is eternal and unfading. What spiritual effect such contemplations may have had on his I, mind, or on any one, it is impossible to know. The spirit of God, like wind, bloweth where it listeth. It is enough for us to know that, in his own estimation, a change took place, and in 1840, Dr. Drake was re- ceived into the communion of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, then under the pastoral care of the late Rev. William Jackson. He had contemplated such a step for a long time, and, when taken, it was a source of joy and satisfaction. He was ever after a faithful, consistent, and devoted disciple of Jesus. By their fruits ye shall know them, said the Savior — and if man ever bore fruit meet for repentance, he did. In the HIS RELIGIOUS CHAEACTEE. 391 midst of a life the most active, various, energetic, ambi- tious, as many thought controversial, he stopped on the ■way to behold and adore with a contrite heart, a Savior bleeding, whose blood was shed for him — a Lamb taking away the sin of the world. Henceforth he exhibited the fruits of the spirit, in joy and suffering, in peace and patience, in humility and meekness. Dr. Drake, though an Episcopalian, adopted, at once, these opinions, and that spirit, which is denominated "Low Church." He thought that the spirit of the church and not its form was the essential part ; that the church was a spiritual, and not merely a hierarchical body ; that its object was true religion, and not worldly grandeur ; that it was protestant, not papal. In one word, he belonged to the church spiritual, under the protestant organization. It is vain to suppose that on this point there is not a cardinal difference ; and while the world lasts that controversy must go on. A man cannot be on two sides of that question, and Dr. Drake was not the man to make the attempt. The protestant and spiritual was his church, let others do what they might. He could not be idle in religion, and accord- ingly wrote for the Episcopal Recorder (Philadelphia,) a series of able articles under the signature of a " Western Layman," discussing the views of Puseyism. He was also one of the founders of the society for the promotion of Evangelical Knowledge, in the church ; and whose address to the public he wrote. I regret that the brief limits of this volume do not allow me to make some extracts from his religious writings. But the pages which contain this memoir are drawing to a close, and I am not editing his works, so much as exhibiting his services. 392 LIFE OF DR. DANIBL DRAKE. 01" Dr. Drake'8 person, character, and habits, some notice may bo expected ; but I have ^iven in this narra- tive all the elements which ontor into such a description ; and if, from these, the reader cannot form an accurate idea of the man, I know not that 1 can do it better. An abstract account of him would be a mere philoBophical analysis of his mind, to the general reader, nerveless and unrealizing; while the gossip of private life might gratity curiosity, but would certainly convey but a une-sided view of his character. A man like Dr. Drake lives in his actions, for his life was action. There are traits of professional^ social, and private character which ought to be exhibited, in some degree, in distinct lines. In doing this, I shall adopt almost en- tirely the language of Dr. Gross,* because^, Dr. (Jross, as a physician, a co-professor, co-laborer, friend, and in daily professional intercourse for many years, is, in many respects, the best witness to his cliaracter and habits in the best period of his life. To his account I shall add only such remarks as may make the account in some things more distinct. I. — DB. DRAKE'S PERSON AND HABITS. " In regard to our friend," says Dr. Gross, " his per- sonal appearance was striking and commanding. No one could approach him, or be in his presence, witliout feeling that he was in contact with a man of superior intellect and acquirement. His features, remarkably regular, were indicative of manly beauty, and were light- ed up and imj^roved by blue eyes of wonderful power • Dr. Gross' discourse on the Life, Character and Services of Daniel Drake. HIS PERSON AND HABITS. 393 and penetration.* When excited by anger, or emotion of any kind, they fairly twinltled in their sockets, and he looked as if he could pierce the very soul of his opponent. His countenance was sometimes staid and solemn, but generally, especially when he was in the presence of his friends, it was radiant and beaming. His forehead, though not expansive, was high, well-fashioned, and eminently denotive of intellect. The mouth was of mode- rate size, the lips of medium thickness, and the chin rounded off and well-proportioned. The nose was promi- nent, but not too large. The frosts of sixty-seven win- ters had slightly silvered his temples, but had made no other inroad upon his hair. He was nearly six feet high, rather slender, and well-formed. " His power of endurance, both mental and physical, was extraordinary. He seemed literally incapable of fatigue. His step was rapid and elastic, and he often took long walks sufficient to tire men much younger, and, ap- parently, much stronger than himself. He was an early riser, and was not unfrequently seen walking before break- fast with his hat under his arm, as if inviting the morn- ing breeze to fan his temple and cool his burning brain. "His manners were simple and dignified; he was easy of access, and eminently social in his habits and feelings. His dress and style of living were plain and unostenta- tious. During his residence in Cincinnati, previously to his connection with this University, his house was the abode of a warm but simple hospitality. For many years no citizen of that place entertained so many strangers and persons of distinction." • See the steel plate portrait, at the oeginning of this Tolume, which is a yerv food likeness. 394 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. II.— HIS INDUSTRY. "But his life was not only eventful, it was also emi- nently laborious. No medical man ever worked harder, or more diligently and faithfully ; his industry was un- tiring, his perseverance unceasing. It was to this ele- ment of his character, blended with the intensity we have described, that he was indebted for the success which so pre-eminently distinguished him from his professional cotemporaries. He had genius, it is true, and genius of a high order, but without industry and perseverance it would have availed him little in the accomplishment of the great aims and objects of his life. He seemed to be early impressed with the truth of the remark of Seneca : ' Non est ad astra mollis a terris via.'' He felt that he did not belong to that fortunate class of beings whose pe- culiar privilege it is to perform great enterprise without labor, and to achieve great ends without means. His habits of industry, formed in early boyhood, before, per- haps, he ever dreamed of the destiny that was awaiting him, forsook him only with his existence. His life, in this respect, affords an example which addresses itself to the student of every profession and pursuit in life, which the young man should imitate, and the old man not forget." The industry of Dr. Drake was astonishing, and in what I have described of his labors and services, I think the reader will wonder how so much could have been ac- complished ; when it is recollected how much of profes- sional practice he had, how much time he employed in society, and how much he traveled. On the last point I will remark, that Dr. Drake told me that his travels had prolonged his life, and without them he could not have endured the labors of the last twelve years. HIS VIBTtrOUS LIFE. 395 III. — HIS HUMILITY. " There was one trait in his character of which I have not yet spoken, and which I approach with much diffi- dence. I allude to his humility. So largely did this enter into his conduct and character, that I cannot, for a moment, suppose that it was not real and genuine. From what I saw of it, in the different circumstances of his life, it appeared to me as if it had been deeply inlaid in his very constitution, and that it was, therefore, compelled, not unfrequently, to exhibit itself in his con- duct and conversation. What corroborates this opinion, is that in his ' Reminiscential Letters,' already more than once alluded to, he speaks of the low state of his pride. ' That passion,' lie remarks, ' was, indeed, never strong j and, moreover, was counterpoised by a humility which always suggested how far short I came of the excellence which ought to be attained.' " After his religious profession, his humility was strik- ingly brought out. I have known him literally to crucify his pride ; and what to frail humanity can be a greater sacrifice ? IV. — HIS VIRTUOUS LIFE. " Dr. Drake never had a vice. His enemies cannot point to a single act of his life in which there was the slightest approximation to any exhibition of the kind. His moral character was cast in the finest and purest mold. He could not have been bad. His concien- tiousness and love of approbation were too large to admit of it. The attachment and reverence which he cherished for his parents were opposed to every feeling of licentiousness and immorality. Their early training produced an impression upon his mind which 396 LIFE OF DH. DANIEL DEAKE. neither time nor circumstances could efface, but •which steadily grew with his growth and strengthened with hia sti-ength. His conduct, in all the periods and phases of his lite, was squared by the strictest rules of honesty, and by the nicest regard for the feelings and rights of others. Although he was long poor, he always paid his debts to the uttermost farthing. " Pay what thou owest," was with him a golden maxim. " For public amusements he had not only no lo\^, but they were eminently repulsive to his tastes and feelings. The impression made upon his tender mind at Mays- lick, by this species of life on parade and gala days, among his father's neighbors, was indelible. He never played a game of cards in his life; gambling and gam- blers he alike detested. His whole career, in fact, from its commencement to its close, was an exhibition of at- tachment to moral principle. His life was one of con- stant and untiring industry and exertion, exhausting meditation, and the most resolute self-denial." V. — HIS FAULTS. Genius has its infirmities, and virtue its shadows; but those of Dr. Drake were few and not very important, except in their annoyance to himself. One was, per- haps, an excess of ambition ; but who has ever attained anything great without ambition ? His acute sensitive- ness to attack and opposition, made him repel them too readily, and thus have the appearance of a quarrelsome- ness which he really did not possess. Dr. Gross says truly, that his early associations with the Medical Col- lege were unfortunate. His colleagues were men inferior to himself, both in mind, manner, and information. They were not ashamed (I mean most of them) to resort HIS PROFESSIONAL OBJECTS 397 to acts and trickery which honorable men despise. This disgusted him with their conduct. This led again to misrepresentation, misconstruction, crimination, and re- crimination, which embittered many years of his profes- sional life. He was also too discursive for his own interest. He undertook too many things. All of them, however, tended to one point, his reputation as a teacher and practitioner of medicine; and was not that a just and legitimate object of care and effort ? Beyond these I know not whether Dr. Drake had any faults or foibles worth mentioning. He and they are alike gone ; and beyond the grave, where the career of man on earth is ended, it is not worth while to pursue or remem- ber his infirmities. They are gone, and forever ! VI. — HIS PKOFBSSIONAL OBJECTS AND METHODS OF PRACTICE: Nearly forty years before his death, Dr. Drake com- menced his labors as a Teacher of Medicine, and that is the key to his whole professional life. To teach medi- cine, and thus to elevate the profession, was the object and ambition of Dr. Drake's life during forty years. For this his profession owes him a debt of lasting grati- tude. What man could do for his profession he has done. The judgment upon his professional acumen and methods of treatment, is thus given by Dr. Gross : "He was the founder of no new sect in medicine. For such an enterprise he had no ambition, even if he had been satisfied, as he never was, of its necessity. He found the profession, when be entered it, at the dawn of the present century, steadily advancing in its lofty and dignified career, refreshed,- and, in some degree. 398 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. renovated, by his immediate predecessors, and his chief desire was to engraft himself npon it as an honest, con- scientious, and successful cultivator. How well he per- formed the part which, in the order of Providence, he was destined to play, in this respect, the medical world is fully apprised. No man was more sensible than he of the imperfections and uncertainties of the healing art, and no one, in this country, in the nineteenth century, has labored more ardently and zealously for its improve- ment. For the systems of the schools, no physician and teacher ever entertained a more thorough and unmitiga- ble contempt. He was an Eclectic in the broadest and fullest sense of the term. His genius was of too lofty and pervasive an order to be trammeled by any authori- ty, however great, respectable, or influential. Systems and system-mongers were alike despised by him, as they could not, in his judgment, be otherwise than dangerous in their practical bearings, and subversive of the best interests of science. It was nature and her works that he delighted to study and to contemplate ; not that he regarded with indifference whatever was good and valu- able in the productions of others, but simply because he preferred to drink at the fountain instead of at the turbid stream. Like Hippocrates and Sydenham, he was a true observer of nature, and, we may add, a correct inter- preter of her laws and phenomena ; his ambition was to be her follower during life, and at his death to leave a record, a true and faithful transcript, of the results of his investigations for the benefit of his brethren. " I had great confidence in his professional acumen ; I saw enough of him in the sick chamber to satisfy me that he had a most minute and thorough knowledge of disease, and of the application of remedial agents. There HIS SOCIAL AFFECTIONS FAMILY. 399 was no one whom I would rather have trusted in my own case, or in that of a member of my family." VII. — HIS SOCIAL AFFECTIONS — FAMILY. "In his friendships, usually formed with much cau- tion, he was devoted, firm, and reliable, as many who survive him can testify. His attachments were strong and enduring. Few men, as he himself declared to me only a few months before his death, possessed so many ardent and laithful friends. His social qualities were remarkable. He loved his friends, enjoyed their society, and took great pleasure in joining them at the domestic board ; where, forgetting the author and the teacher, he laid aside his ' sterner nature,' and appeared in his true character, plain and simple as a child, cheerful, amiable, and entertaining." In society Dr. Drake shone more truly in his real, personal character than in any other situation. He was remarkably fond of society, from that of his dearest kin- dred to that of any intelligent stranger. In the remotest parts of the country, traveling in search of materials for his book, he found friends and acquaintances by the social, kindly spirit which he showed to them. In his family and kindred, Dr. Drake seemed to bear the love to every member, of one who, by nature and affec- tion, was their guardian angel. And, out of his blood kindred, there were those whom he cherished like a father, and who mourned him with the lamentations of children. When Mrs. Drake died, he had three children, who still survive him. There were Charles D. Drake, Esq., now of St. Louis ; Mrs. Elizabeth M. McGuffey, wife of Alexander H. McGuffey, Esq., and Mrs. Harriet E. Campbell, widow of the late James P. Campbell of 400 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DKAEE. Chillicothe. They were quite young when their mother died, and their father literally performed the part of both father and mother. As tfiey grew up, married, and had children, his heart seemed to intertwine with those of both children and grandchildren. It was to them he addressed the series of reminiscential letters, to which I have alluded, and of which I have given two in the last chapter. In that kind of literature they have scarcely ever been excelled ; perhaps never. They are simple, graphic, and beautiful. VIII. HIS LAST SICKNESS AND DEATH. I have related his religious conversion ; the depth and humility of his faith ; and, as I draw near the closing scene, I ought to allude one moment to the position of & physician of the iody converted. From toil and am- bitiottin the world, he turns from ih&s^ physical elements -to contemplate the glorious vision of an emancipated soul, and becomes the humble disciple of Jesus, the Redeemer of souls. There is something in this position of a physician which is not precisely like that of other men in the same condition. He draws, at once, the strong contrast between the physical and the spiritual. He has analyzed the body. He has examined the earth, and now turns his telescope to other parts of creation, and seeks new discoveries in other worlds. Science is great ; but it is not everything. Science comes to man- kind like the angel Michael to Adam, in Milton's pic- ture, giving forth revelations of creation, and announcing the glory to come. It is the eternal demonstration of the Creator, and the incontrovertible testimony to Good- ness perpetual, and to Holiness perfect. But science is finite, and the soul longs for the infinite ! The scientific HIS EELIGIOtrS CHAEACTEE. 401 physician puts his knife to the dead heart, and feels no throb; to the brain, and finds no spirit, shall he say, " There is no soul," because his scalpel cannot touch it ? He Tcnows there is. He saw its movements in the tab- ernacle, as plain as the bird in the cage ; but where is it ? It is not here. In what blue depth of yonder sky has the escaped bird winged its flight ? Shall he say the soul was mortal ? Its groans in the tabernacle, its sighs for the better, its wild ambition for the glorious, its soar- ing imagination, its longings to penetrate the infinite — all say — No ! " This soul is immortal," said the great orator of the Romans, when turning from the darkness of paganism, he could find its evidences in nothing but the glory of creation ! That body is under the knife of the anatomist, but the soul — where is it ? Human curi- osity asks in vain. Science cannot tell ; but it does say, like the angel at the grave of Christ, " It is not here, but risen." Standing on this verge, religion begins. The evidences of science cease, and the evidences of revela- tion commence. Dr. Drake always held religion in profound respect, and lived a pure and upright life ; but made no profession of religion till about twelve years before his death. An un- devout astronomer is mad. An undevout physician can hardly be considered less so. He knows there is a spirit, and his scalpel finds it not. Where can he find it, but In that spiritual world which God has revealed ? Where can he rest, but in that truth which prophets, apostles, disciples, saihts, and good men — the great cloud of wit- nesses — have had from the beginning, through Jesus, the Redeemer ? Dr. Drake became a devout physician, and when the close of life drew near, though the change was sudden, it found him ready. 34 402 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. The last appearance of Dr. Drake in public, was on the occasion of a public meeting of citizens to honor the memory of Daniel Webster. He had been several days ill with a cold, but could not refrain from being present. In the course of the evening, he rose and said that, "having recently taken part in the funeral ^rvices of another illustrious American,* he would not yield to an expression of his emotions on the present occasion ; but, before he sat down, he would point attention to the manner of this illustrious man's death, and to those utterances which, from the solemnity of the occasion, and because they were the last words of Daniel Web- ster, would forever stand out among the most prominent and the most frequently turned to by posterity. As an humble professor of the Christian religion,"! continued Dr. Drake, "I call the attention of the young men of this country to Daniel Webster's dying declarations of the value of the Christian religion, of man's utter dependence on divine mercy. To the example of the mightiest intellect of the age, let me point those who have thought religion not mete for men of culture and genius. Who shall say that the simple utterance of the departed statesman — '■thy rod, thy rod, thy staff, thy staff, they comfort me ' — does not constitute the greatest act of that life of great acts ? " Of the last sickness and death of Dr. Drake, I have compiled the following account, from a letter of Mrs. Campbell to her brother, the statement of his son-in-law, A. H. McGuffey, Esq., and some observations of my own : "For two weeks before his attack, he had been suffer- ing from a violent cold, though he would not consent to • Henry Clay. + Cincinnati Gazette. DE. drake's last SICKNESS. 403 give up any of his duties, either at college or hospital, in consequence of it. On Tuesday evening, October 26, after attending the Webster meeting, he had a chill, but on Wednesday morning he went to the college and lectured. That evening he had a chill again, and passed a most uncomfortable night. On Thursday, he had considerable fever, and suffered much with his head, and coughed almost incessantly, but would not consent to go to his bed-room, and continued all day on the sofa in the parlor. A mustard poultice was, in the evening, applied to the back of his neck, and he passed a rather better night. On Friday morning, he returned to the parlor again, and continued there all day, having company constantly. By six o'clock, his brain became painfully excited,- and he agreed to go to bed. He passed an uncomfortable night. On Saturday morning, he rose and went to the parlor until his bed-room should be arranged. He then returned to it, and passed the day in his easy chair, with cold applications to his head, and warm baths to his feet. On that day he became a little troubled about himself, and desired Alexander to find his will, and, as that could not be found, to prepare another. On Saturday night, about twelve o'clock, he called me, and told me the distress in his head was so great that he would be compelled to bleed himself, though he was aware that bleeding prostrated him excessively. I wished to send for Dr. Eidgely, but he would not allow me, and he sat upon the side of the bed, and took about a pint of blood from his arm, and while I was applying the bandage, I found that he had become entirely insensible. When he recovered, he said that his head was much relieved. On Tuesday, after- noon, he was cupped on his side, which relieved the 4:04 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKE. pain he had there, and moderated his cough very much, On Sunday, he gave directions with regard to his will, and passed a more comfortable night. On Monday morning, he sat up long enough to have his bed made, and afterwards sat up in bed and read over his will. He was, however, very much prostrated, but on Monday night would not allow me to sit up with him. He was obliged, though, to call me about twelve, and I found him dreadfully prostrated from the action of senna. I gave him quinine and hot brandy in considerable quantities, and sent for Dr. Richards, who did not see him until he had much revived. From that time he seemed to be very hopeless of himself. " On Monday, he had desired you to be written to, and on Tuesday evening the physicians agreed that we had better telegraph you, though they would not admit there was any danger. Tuesday evening the spell of sinking approached, but was kept off by medicines and hot ap- plications. That night he consented that Dr. Tandy should watch with him, and he had a more comfortable night, though the distress in his head continued to be very great all the time. On Wednesday, he asked if you had been written to, and seemed satisfied when I told him you had been telegraphed. He repeatedly said that day, that all our efforts were useless, and his mind wandered a good deal, though he could collect his thoughts and converse rationally. " Wednesday night Dr. Richards, Jr., sat up with him, and he was very miserable. I did not leave him until eleven, and in a short time after, though Dr. Richards was standing by his bed, he raised up and rang his bell several times. I went to him, and found him very nneasy, apparently, at the presence of a comparative DE. Drake's last sickness. 405 stranger, and did not leave him again. He was suffer- ing great distress — not pain, but great mental distress — ' which he could describe in no other way than that he had ' a horror.' About 4 o'clock he said he wished to see Key. Mr. Tyng, and when I told him that he was absent from the city, he desired to see Rev. Dr. Eice. I sent for him, and he came immediately. Father conversed rationally with him, though even his prayers and con- versation could not, for a moment, dispel the dreadful distress he was suffering. " On Thursday, he asked to have some hymns sung to him, and when I sung our mother's funeral hymn, he said he wished that sung at his funeral, but the singing disturbed him. On Thursday evening, he said to me that the vital powers were all failing ; and I think his expres- sion was that there was a lesion in his side. The physi- cians thought it very important that he should sleep, and he was to take a small dose of morphine. The family retired at 8 o'clock, and as I sat by his bed, he took my hand, and said in a perfectly natural tone, 'Well, my daughter.' He then attempted to feel his pulse, and raised his hands to observe the nervous twiching in them ; and when I said to him, ' You have had that ever since you were siek,' he replied, ' Yes, my sickness in 1825 left me just in this condition.' I believe these were the last words he ever spoke. I gave him his medicine at 9 o'clock, and he turned over on his side, in a perfectly natural attitude, and, as I supposed, fell into a sweet sleep. " Dr. Tandy came at half past ten, and I gave him to his care ; but in about an hour he found his breathing very hard, and could not rouse him to take his medicine. I succeeded in forcing down several spoonfuls of raw 4:06 LIFE OF DE. DANIEL DEAKB. brandy, and we applied mustard poultices all over the body, but we never could rouse him from the lethargy, which continued until 6 o'clock on Friday evening, when his wearied spirit rested from its labors, in tlio bosom of the Savior, whom he had so loved and delighted to serve. On Sunday, previous to his death, sitting with Mr. McGuffey, he bemoaned his inability to think or feel, jaying that ho seemed to have suffered a complete emo- tional annihilation; that he was not able to feel any interest in anything ; that even eternal things seemed to have lost their interest ; but that he remembered, that years before he had oflcred himself to the Savior, and had ever since enjoyed a constantly increasing hope of acceptance; and that that memory (for in his present condition it was nothing more) was an unspeakable com- fort and solace to him ; that he clung to that only. On Monday, he talked to Mr. McGufluy about the unfinished condition of his great work, saying, that to complete it had been his only earthly ambition, and that he hoped God would spare him for that end. On Tuesday, his sufi'orings wore so groat that he had no longer any hope or desire for recovery, lie said that God had tauglit him the folly of all earthly hopes, the vanity of all human expectations; that he no longer desired to live to finish his book ; and that his sufferings from nervous atrophy were so groat that bodily pain would be a luxury. It was on Thursday morning, I think, when visiting him, that he said to me, in the midst of great suffering, " In this dying condition I am in a state of emotional annihilation. If I had not made my peace with God, through my Kedeemer, I could not do it now. I trust I have done that long since." CONOLTTSION. 407 " During Friday," says Mr. McGuffey, " when loudly called by a familiar voice, he would partially open his eyes ; and during the forenoon he made faint efforts to swallow the fluids which were placed in his month. But the lethargy steadily gained ground, and his breath- ing became more and more labored, until about five o'clock, when his pulse became imperceptible, and his breathing less heavy. His breathing became gentler and shorter, till, at last, it ceased so gradually that we could not say when his lungs ceased their functions. But just at this solemn moment, when all eyes were fixed on the face of the departing, he closed his mouth most naturally, drew np and placed upon his breast the right hand, which had for hours lain motionless by his side, the eyes opened and beamed with an unearthly radiance, as if at the same time clasping in and reflecting the glories of heaven, and — the spirit was with God who gave it." I have given here merely the outline of a character which was not merely eminent in the medical world, but was intimately associated with the civil, social, and scientific growth and being of the Ohio valley ; and whose name, history will preserve as among the chiefest founders and worthiest citizens of the republic. I have not dwelt upon those domestic incidents, or those traits of private character, which are essential to the portrait of a man, or the delineation of a friend. I have said only what history should say, to be just to the community or the citizen. It is said, that history is only filled with the names of heroes and of statesmen. But who is the hero if he who has fought the battle, and won worthily the victory of life, be not one ? History 408 LIFE OF DK. DANIEL DEAKE. •will not always be written in blood. The better time ia coming. Even ancient history has preserved the name of the Grecian Hippocrates, when Greece herself is in ruins, and monumental marbles have crumbled away. So let us remember the founders of Ohio. We beheld them come, as pioneers, among the woods, and we now behold an empire where their footsteps have trod. Let Justice record their acts. Let Genius praise them. And ■when, in time to come, there shall be a better civiliza- tion, and a greater glory than Greece ever knew, then let their names go mingling with its fame forever 1 THE END. APPLEaATE & COMPANY, Ko. 43 UAIK STBEET, CINCIinr ATI. In addition to a large and varied assortment of School, Classical, Theological and Miscellaneous BookSf which they have constantly on hand, publish a series of VALUABLE STANDAKD WOKKS, suitable for the family circle, as well as public libraries. 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ADAH CLARKE'S COMPLETE COMMENTARY ON THE OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS. With a portrait of the author, engraved expressly for this edition, accompanied with Maps, (fee. Plain and em- bossed gilt. From the Nashville and Lauiemlle Christian Advocate. " It would be difficult to find any contribution to Sacred Literature that has attained to a higher rank than the Commentaries of Dr. Adam Clarke. Whether regarded as a prodigy of human learning, or as a monument of what perseverence and industry, within the compass of a single lifetime, can accomplish, it will long continue to challenge the admiration of men as a work of unrivalled merit. It is a treasury of knowledge, in the accumula- tion of which, the author seems to have had no purpose in view but the apprehension of truth ; not to sustain a particular creed, but the apprehension of truth for truth's own sake, restrained in the noble pursuits of no party tenets by no ardor for favorite dogmas. It is difficult to conceive of a complete library without this valuable work, and yet alone of itself, it affords to its possessor no mean variety of entertainment. B esides forming a moderate, but clear elucidation of the true meaning of the Sacred Word, it abounds with illustrations in science, the hterature of all ages, and the history of all times and all countries ; and as a lexicon for the exposition of abstruse phrases, of difficult terms, and the true genealogy of words of doubtful import, it immeasurably surpasses all similar works of the age." DR. ADAM CLARKE'S COMMENTARY ON THE NEW TESTAMENT. 2 vols, super-royal 8vo. Plain and embossed gilt. The increasing demand for Dr. Clarke's Commentary on the Ifew Testament, has induced us to issue an edition on superior paper, large clear type, handsomely and sub- stantially bound, containing 1978 pages, with a portrait of the author. APPLEGATE & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. THE COMPLETE WORKS OF THOMAS DICK, LL. 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