XXXVII.
BENJAMIN RUSH.
Birth and early life—Adopts medicine as a profession—Studies in Europe—Returns home, and is made a professor in the Philadelphia Medical College—Political career—Elected to the Provincial Conference of Pennsylvania—Action with respect to the independence of the colonies—Elected to the Continental Congress—Signs the Declaration of Independence—Marriage—Is made Surgeon-General of the army—Becomes Physician-General—Troubles—Resigns his commission—Letters to the people of Pennsylvania—Services in the State conventions—Resumes his practice in Philadelphia—Plans the Philadelphia Dispensary—Resumes his professor's chair—The yellow fever in Philadelphia—A scene of terror—"The Hundred Days"—Dr. Rush's treatment of the disease—Opposition of the Faculty—Success of Rush's treatment—Testimony of Dr. Ramsay—Suit for damages—Dr. Rush's services during the fever—Reminiscences—Honors from European sovereigns—Is made Treasurer of the United States Mint—Literary labors—Zeal in behalf of Christianity—His connection with the Bible Society—Death.
VALENTINE MOTT.
Birth—Early life—Enters Columbia College—His medical studies—Continues his studies in Europe—Great surgical genius—His early success as an operator—Returns home—Is made Professor of Surgery in Columbia College—His career and success as a teacher—Introduces the system of clinical instruction—Difficulty of procuring "subjects" for dissection—Desperate expedients—midnight adventure—A ready rebuke—Success and skill as a surgeon—Tribute from Sir Astley Cooper—A wonderful operation—Sketch of his original operations—His mode of operating—Careful preparation—Success as a physician—A progressive mind—Professional honors—Visits Europe—Reception abroad—Operates upon the Sultan of Turkey—A cool proposition—Personal—His last illness and death—"President Lincoln murdered."
I. MERCHANTS.
CHAPTER I.
STEPHEN GIRARD.
One May morning, in the year 1776, the mouth of the Delaware Bay was shrouded in a dense fog, which cleared away toward noon, and revealed several vessels just off the capes. From one of these, a sloop, floated the flag of France and a signal of distress. An American ship ran alongside the stranger, in answer to her signal, and found that the French captain had lost his reckoning in a fog, and was in total ignorance of his whereabouts. His vessel, he said, was bound from New Orleans to a Canadian port, and he was anxious to proceed on his voyage. The American skipper informed him of his locality, and also apprised him of the fact that war had broken out between the colonies and Great Britain, and that the American coast was so well lined with British cruisers that he would never reach port but as a prize. "What shall I do?" cried the Frenchman, in great alarm. "Enter the bay, and make a push for Philadelphia," was the reply. "It is your only chance."
The Frenchman protested that he did not know the way, and had no pilot. The American captain, pitying his distress, found him a pilot, and even loaned him five dollars, which the pilot demanded in advance. The sloop got under weigh again, and passed into the Delaware, beyond the defenses which had been erected for its protection, just in time to avoid capture by a British war vessel which now made its appearance at the mouth of the bay. Philadelphia was reached in due time, and, as the war bade fair to put an end to his voyages, the captain sold the sloop and her cargo, of which he was part owner, and, entering a small store in Water Street, began the business of a grocer and wine-bottler. His capital was small, his business trifling in extent, and he himself labored under the disadvantage of being almost unable to speak the English language. In person he was short and stout, with a dull, repulsive countenance, which his bushy eyebrows and solitary eye (being blind in the other) made almost hideous. He was cold and reserved in manner, and was disliked by his neighbors, the most of whom were afraid of him.
This man was Stephen Girard, who was afterward destined to play so important a part in the history of the city to which the mere chances of war sent him a stranger.
He was born at Bordeaux, in France, on the 21st of May, 1750, and was the eldest of the five children of Captain Pierre Girard, a mariner of that city. His life at home was a hard one. At the age of eight years, he discovered that he was blind in one eye, and the mortification and grief which this discovery caused him appear to have soured his entire life. He afterward declared that his father treated him with considerable neglect, and that, while his younger brothers were sent to college, he was made to content himself with the barest rudiments of an education, with merely a knowledge of reading and writing. When he was quite young, his mother died, and, as his father soon married again, the severity of a step-mother was added to his other troubles. When about thirteen years of age, he left home, with his father's consent, and began, as a cabin-boy, the life of a mariner. For nine years he sailed between Bordeaux and the French West Indies, rising steadily from his position of cabin-boy to that of mate. He improved his leisure time at sea, until he was not only master of the art of navigation, but generally well informed for a man in his station. His father possessed sufficient influence to procure him the command of a vessel, in spite of the law of France which required that no man should be made master of a ship unless he had sailed two cruises in the royal navy and was twenty-five years old. Gradually Girard was enabled to amass a small sum of money, which he invested in cargoes easily disposed of in the ports to which he sailed. Three years after he was licensed to command, he made his first appearance in the port of Philadelphia. He was then twenty-six years old.
From the time of his arrival in Philadelphia he devoted himself to business with an energy and industry which never failed. He despised no labor, and was willing to undertake any honest means of increasing his subsistence. He bought and sold any thing, from groceries to old "junk." His chief profit, however, was in his wine and cider, which he bottled and sold readily. His business prospered, and he was regarded as a thriving man from the start.
In July, 1777, he married Mary Lum, a servant girl of great beauty, and something of a virago as well. The union was an unhappy one, as the husband and wife were utterly unsuited to each other. Seven years after her marriage, Mrs. Girard showed symptoms of insanity,
