The Autobiography of a Quack And The Case Of George Dedlow

S >> S. Weir Mitchell >> The Autobiography of a Quack And The Case Of George Dedlow


In one most disastrous case I suffered personally to a degree which I
never can recall without a distinct sense of annoyance, both at my own
want of care and at the disgusting consequences which it brought upon
me.

Early one morning an old gentleman called, in a state of the utmost
agitation, and explained that he desired to consult the spirits as to
a heavy loss which he had experienced the night before. He had left, he
said, a sum of money in his pantaloons pocket upon going to bed. In the
morning he had changed his clothes and gone out, forgetting to remove
the notes. Returning in an hour in great haste, he discovered that the
garment still lay upon the chair where he had thrown it, but that the
money was missing. I at once desired him to be seated, and proceeded
to ask him certain questions, in a chatty way, about the habits of his
household, the amount lost, and the like, expecting thus to get some
clue which would enable me to make my spirits display the requisite
share of sagacity in pointing out the thief. I learned readily that he
was an old and wealthy man, a little close, too, I suspected, and that
he lived in a large house with but two servants, and an only son about
twenty-one years old. The servants were both women who had lived in the
household many years, and were probably innocent. Unluckily, remembering
my own youthful career, I presently reached the conclusion that the
young man had been the delinquent. When I ventured to inquire a little
as to his habits, the old gentleman cut me very short, remarking that he
came to ask questions, and not to be questioned, and that he desired at
once to consult the spirits. Upon this I sat down at a table, and, after
a brief silence, demanded in a solemn voice if there were any spirits
present. By industriously cracking my big toe-joint I was enabled to
represent at once the presence of a numerous assembly of these worthies.
Then I inquired if any one of them had been present when the robbery was
effected. A prompt double knock replied in the affirmative. I may say
here, by the way, that the unanimity of the spirits as to their use of
two knocks for "yes" and one for "no" is a very remarkable point, and
shows, if it shows anything, how perfect and universal must be the
social intercourse of the respected departed. It is worthy of note,
also, that if the spirit--I will not say the medium--perceives after one
knock that it were wiser to say yes, he can conveniently add the second
tap. Some such arrangement in real life would, it appears to me, be
highly desirable.

It seemed that the spirit was that of Vidocq, the French detective. I
had just read a translation of his memoirs, and he seemed to me a very
available spirit to call upon.

As soon as I explained that the spirit who answered had been a witness
of the theft, the old man became strangely agitated. "Who was it?" said
he. At once the spirit indicated a desire to use the alphabet. As we
went over the letters,--always a slow method, but useful when you want
to observe excitable people,--my visitor kept saying, "Quicker--go
quicker." At length the spirit spelled out the words, "I know not his
name."

"Was it," said the gentleman--"was it a--was it one of my household?"

I knocked "yes" without hesitation; who else, indeed, could it have
been?

"Excuse me," he went on, "if I ask you for a little whisky."

This I gave him. He continued: "Was it Susan or Ellen?"

"No, no!"

"Was it--" He paused. "If I ask a question mentally, will the spirits
reply?" I knew what he meant. He wanted to ask if it was his son, but
did not wish to speak openly.

"Ask," said I.

"I have," he returned.

I hesitated. It was rarely my policy to commit myself definitely, yet
here I fancied, from the facts of the case and his own terrible anxiety,
that he suspected, or more than suspected, his son as the guilty person.
I became sure of this as I studied his face. At all events, it would be
easy to deny or explain in case of trouble; and, after all, what slander
was there in two knocks? I struck twice as usual.

Instantly the old gentleman rose up, very white, but quite firm.
"There," he said, and cast a bank-note on the table, "I thank you," and
bending his head on his breast, walked, as I thought, with great effort
out of the room.

On the following morning, as I made my first appearance in my outer
room, which contained at least a dozen persons awaiting advice,
who should I see standing by the window but the old gentleman with
sandy-gray hair? Along with him was a stout young man with a head as
red as mine, and mustache and whiskers to match. Probably the son, I
thought--ardent temperament, remorse, come to confess, etc. I was
never more mistaken in my life. I was about to go regularly through my
patients when the old gentleman began to speak.

"I called, doctor," said he, "to explain the little matter about which
I--about which I--"

"Troubled your spirits yesterday," added the youth, jocosely, pulling
his mustache.

"Beg pardon," I returned; "had we not better talk this over in private?
Come into my office," I added, touching the younger man on the arm.

Would you believe it? he took out his handkerchief and dusted the place
I had touched. "Better not," said he. "Go on, father; let us get done
with this den."

"Gentlemen," said the elder person, addressing the patients, "I called
here yesterday, like a fool, to ask who had stolen from me a sum of
money which I believed I left in my room on going out in the morning.
This doctor here and his spirits contrived to make me suspect my only
son. Well, I charged him at once with the crime as soon as I got
back home, and what do you think he did? He said, 'Father, let us go
up-stairs and look for it,' and--"

Here the young man broke in with: "Come, father; don't worry yourself
for nothing"; and then turning, added: "To cut the thing short, he found
the notes under his candle-stick, where he left them on going to bed.
This is all of it. We came here to stop this fellow" (by which he meant
me) "from carrying a slander further. I advise you, good people, to
profit by the matter, and to look up a more honest doctor, if doctoring
be what you want."

As soon as he had ended, I remarked solemnly: "The words of the spirits
are not my words. Who shall hold them accountable?"

"Nonsense," said the young man. "Come, father"; and they left the room.

Now was the time to retrieve my character. "Gentlemen," said I, "you
have heard this very singular account. Trusting the spirits utterly and
entirely as I do, it occurs to me that there is no reason why they
may not, after all, have been right in their suspicions of this young
person. Who can say that, overcome by remorse, he may not have seized
the time of his father's absence to replace the money?"

To my amazement, up gets a little old man from the corner. "Well, you
are a low cuss!" said he, and taking up a basket beside him, hobbled
hastily out of the room. You may be sure I said some pretty sharp things
to him, for I was out of humor to begin with, and it is one thing to
be insulted by a stout young man, and quite another to be abused by
a wretched old cripple. However, he went away, and I supposed, for my
part, that I was done with the whole business.

An hour later, however, I heard a rough knock at my door, and opening it
hastily, saw my red-headed young man with the cripple.

"Now," said the former, taking me by the collar, and pulling me into
the room among my patients, "I want to know, my man, if this doctor said
that it was likely I was the thief after all?"

"That's what he said," replied the cripple; "just about that, sir."

I do not desire to dwell on the after conduct of this hot-headed young
man. It was the more disgraceful as I offered but little resistance, and
endured a beating such as I would have hesitated to inflict upon a dog.
Nor was this all. He warned me that if I dared to remain in the city
after a week he would shoot me. In the East I should have thought
but little of such a threat, but here it was only too likely to
be practically carried out. Accordingly, with my usual decision of
character, but with much grief and reluctance, I collected my whole
fortune, which now amounted to at least seven thousand dollars, and
turned my back upon this ungrateful town. I am sorry to say that I also
left behind me the last of my good luck.

I traveled in a leisurely way until I reached Boston. The country
anywhere would have been safer, but I do not lean to agricultural
pursuits. It seemed an agreeable city, and I decided to remain.

I took good rooms at Parker's, and concluding to enjoy life, amused
myself in the company of certain, I may say uncertain, young women who
danced at some of the theaters. I played billiards, drank rather too
much, drove fast horses, and at the end of a delightful year was shocked
to find myself in debt, and with only seven dollars and fifty-three
cents left--I like to be accurate. I had only one resource: I determined
to visit my deaf aunt and Peninnah, and to see what I could do in the
role of the prodigal nephew. At all events, I should gain time to think
of what new enterprise I could take up; but, above all, I needed a
little capital and a house over my head. I had pawned nearly everything
of any value which I possessed.

I left my debts to gather interest, and went away to Woodbury. It was
the day before Christmas when I reached the little Jersey town, and
it was also by good luck Sunday. I was hungry and quite penniless. I
wandered about until church had begun, because I was sure then to find
Aunt Rachel and Peninnah out at the service, and I desired to explore a
little. The house was closed, and even the one servant absent. I got in
with ease at the back through the kitchen, and having at least an hour
and a half free from interruption, I made a leisurely search. The
role of prodigal was well enough, but here was a better chance and an
indulgent opportunity.

In a few moments I found the famous Bible hid away under Aunt Rachel's
mattress. The Bible bank was fat with notes, but I intended to be
moderate enough to escape suspicion. Here were quite two thousand
dollars. I resolved to take, just now, only one hundred, so as to keep a
good balance. Then, alas! I lit on a long envelop, my aunt's will. Every
cent was left to Christ Church; not a dime to poor Pen or to me. I was
in a rage. I tore up the will and replaced the envelop. To treat
poor Pen that way--Pen of all people! There was a heap more will than
testament, for all it was in the Bible. After that I thought it was
right to punish the old witch, and so I took every note I could find.
When I was through with this business, I put back the Bible under
the mattress, and observing that I had been quite too long, I went
downstairs with a keen desire to leave the town as early as possible. I
was tempted, however, to look further, and was rewarded by finding in
an old clock case a small reticule stuffed with bank-notes. This I
appropriated, and made haste to go out. I was too late. As I went into
the little entry to get my hat and coat, Aunt Rachel entered, followed
by Peninnah.

At sight of me my aunt cried out that I was a monster and fit for the
penitentiary. As she could not hear at all, she had the talk to herself,
and went by me and up-stairs, rumbling abuse like distant thunder
overhead.

Meanwhile I was taken up with Pen. The pretty fool was seated on a
chair, all dressed up in her Sunday finery, and rocking backward and
forward, crying, "Oh, oh, ah!" like a lamb saying, "Baa, baa, baa!" She
never had much sense. I had to shake her to get a reasonable word.
She mopped her eyes, and I heard her gasp out that my aunt had at last
decided that I was the person who had thinned her hoards. This was bad,
but involved less inconvenience than it might have done an hour earlier.
Amid tears Pen told me that a detective had been at the house inquiring
for me. When this happened it seems that the poor little goose had tried
to fool deaf Aunt Rachel with some made-up story as to the man having
come about taxes. I suppose the girl was not any too sharp, and the old
woman, I guess, read enough from merely seeing the man's lips. You never
could keep anything from her, and she was both curious and suspicious.
She assured the officer that I was a thief, and hoped I might be caught.
I could not learn whether the man told Pen any particulars, but as I was
slowly getting at the facts we heard a loud scream and a heavy fall.

Pen said, "Oh, oh!" and we hurried upstairs. There was the old woman
on the floor, her face twitching to right, and her breathing a sort of
hoarse croak. The big Bible lay open on the floor, and I knew what had
happened. It was a fit of apoplexy.

At this very unpleasant sight Pen seemed to recover her wits, and said:
"Go away, go away! Oh, brother, brother, now I know you have stolen her
money and killed her, and--and I loved you, I was so proud of you! Oh,
oh!"

This was all very fine, but the advice was good. I said: "Yes, I had
better go. Run and get some one--a doctor. It is a fit of hysterics;
there is no danger. I will write to you. You are quite mistaken."

This was too feeble even for Pen, and she cried:

"No, never; I never want to see you again. You would kill me next."

"Stuff!" said I, and ran down-stairs. I seized my coat and hat, and went
to the tavern, where I got a man to drive me to Camden. I have never
seen Pen since. As I crossed the ferry to Philadelphia I saw that I
should have asked when the detective had been after me. I suspected from
Pen's terror that it had been recently.

It was Sunday and, as I reminded myself, the day before Christmas. The
ground was covered with snow, and as I walked up Market street my feet
were soon soaked. In my haste I had left my overshoes. I was very
cold, and, as I now see, foolishly fearful. I kept thinking of what a
conspicuous thing a fire-red head is, and of how many people knew me.
As I reached Woodbury early and without a cent, I had eaten nothing all
day. I relied on Pen.

Now I concluded to go down into my old neighborhood and get a lodging
where no references were asked. Next day I would secure a disguise and
get out of the way. I had passed the day without food, as I have just
said, and having ample means, concluded to go somewhere and get a good
dinner. It was now close to three in the afternoon. I was aware of two
things: that I was making many plans, and giving them up as soon as
made; and that I was suddenly afraid without cause, afraid to enter an
eating-house, and in fear of every man I met.

I went on, feeling more and more chilly. When a man is really cold his
mind does not work well, and now it was blowing a keen gale from the
north. At Second and South I came plump on a policeman I knew. He looked
at me through the drifting snow, as if he was uncertain, and twice
looked back after having passed me. I turned west at Christian street.
When I looked behind me the man was standing at the corner, staring
after me. At the next turn I hurried away northward in a sort of anguish
of terror. I have said I was an uncommon person. I am. I am sensitive,
too. My mind is much above the average, but unless I am warm and well
fed it does not act well, and I make mistakes. At that time I was
half frozen, in need of food, and absurdly scared. Then that old fool
squirming on the floor got on to my nerves. I went on and on, and at
last into Second street, until I came to Christ Church, of all places
for me. I heard the sound of the organ in the afternoon service. I felt
I must go in and get warm. Here was another silly notion: I was afraid
of hotels, but not of the church. I reasoned vaguely that it was a dark
day, and darker in the church, and so I went in at the Church Alley
entrance and sat near the north door. No one noticed me. I sat still in
a high-backed pew, well hid, and wondering what was the matter with me.
It was curious that a doctor, and a man of my intelligence, should have
been long in guessing a thing so simple.

For two months I had been drinking hard, and for two days had quit,
being a man capable of great self-control, and also being short of
money. Just before the benediction I saw a man near by who seemed to
stare at me. In deadly fear I got up and quickly slipped through a
door into the tower room. I said to myself, "He will follow me or wait
outside." I stood a moment with my head all of a whirl, and then in
a shiver of fear ran up the stairs to the tower until I got into the
bell-ringer's room. I was safe. I sat down on a stool, twitching and
tremulous. There were the old books on bell-ringing, and the miniature
chime of small bells for instruction. The wind had easy entrance, and it
swung the eight ropes about in a way I did not like. I remember saying,
"Oh, don't do that." At last I had a mad desire to ring one of the
bells. As a loop of rope swung toward me it seemed to hold a face, and
this face cried out, "Come and hang yourself; then the bell will ring."

If I slept I do not know. I may have done so. Certainly I must have
stayed there many hours. I was dull and confused, and yet on my guard,
for when far into the night I heard noises below, I ran up the steeper
steps which ascend to the steeple, where are the bells. Half-way up I
sat down on the stair. The place was cold and the darkness deep. Then I
heard the eight ringers down below. One said: "Never knowed a Christmas
like this since Zeb Sanderaft died. Come, boys!" I knew it must be close
on to midnight. Now they would play a Christmas carol. I used every
Christmas to be roused up and carried here and set on dad's shoulder.
When they were done ringing, Number Two always gave me a box of
sugar-plums and a large red apple. As they rang off, my father would cry
out, "One, two," and so on, and then cry, "Elias, all over town people
are opening windows to listen." I seemed to hear him as I sat in the
gloom. Then I heard, "All ready; one, two," and they rang the Christmas
carol. Overhead I heard the great bells ringing out:

And all the bells on earth shall ring
On Christmas day, on Christmas day.

I felt suddenly excited, and began to hum the air. Great heavens! There
was the old woman, Aunt Rachel, with her face going twitch, twitch, the
croak of her breathing keeping a sort of mad time with "On Christmas
day, on Christmas day." I jumped up. She was gone. I knew in a hazy sort
of way what was the matter with me, but I had still the sense to sit
down and wait. I said now it would be snakes, for once before I had been
almost as bad. But what I did see was a little curly-headed boy in a
white frock and pantalets, climbing up the stairs right leg first;
so queer of me to have noticed that. I knew I was that boy. He was an
innocent-looking little chap, and was smiling. He seemed to me to grow
and grow, and at last was a big, red-headed man with a live rat in his
hand. I saw nothing more, but I surely knew I needed whisky. I waited
until all was still, and got down and out, for I knew every window. I
soon found a tavern, and got a drink and some food. At once my fear
left me. I was warm at last and clear of head, and had again my natural
courage. I was well aware that I was on the edge of delirium tremens and
must be most prudent. I paid in advance for my room and treated myself
as I had done many another. Only a man of unusual force could have
managed his own case as I did. I went out only at night, and in a week
was well enough to travel. During this time I saw now and then that
grinning little fellow. Sometimes he had an apple and was eating it. I
do not know why he was worse to me than snakes, or the twitchy old woman
with her wide eyes of glass, and that jerk, jerk, to right.

I decided to go back to Boston. I got to New York prudently in a
roundabout way, and in two weeks' time was traveling east from Albany.

I felt well, and my spirits began at last to rise to their usual level.
When I arrived in Boston I set myself to thinking how best I could
contrive to enjoy life and at the same time to increase my means.
I possessed sufficient capital, and was able and ready to embark in
whatever promised the best returns with the smallest personal risks. I
settled myself in a suburb, paid off a few pressing claims, and began to
reflect with my ordinary sagacity.

We were now in the midst of a most absurd war with the South, and it was
becoming difficult to escape the net of conscription. It might be wise
to think of this in time. Europe seemed a desirable residence, but
I needed more money to make this agreeable, and an investment for my
brains was what I wanted most. Many schemes presented themselves
as worthy the application of industry and talent, but none of them
altogether suited my case. I thought at times of traveling as
a physiological lecturer, combining with it the business of a
practitioner: scare the audience at night with an enumeration of
symptoms which belong to ten out of every dozen healthy people, and
then doctor such of them as are gulls enough to consult me next day.
The bigger the fright the better the pay. I was a little timid, however,
about facing large audiences, as a man will be naturally if he has lived
a life of adventure, so that upon due consideration I gave up the idea
altogether.

The patent medicine business also looked well enough, but it is somewhat
overdone at all times, and requires a heavy outlay, with the probable
result of ill success. Indeed, I believe one hundred quack remedies fail
for one that succeeds, and millions must have been wasted in placards,
bills, and advertisements, which never returned half their value to the
speculator. I think I shall some day beguile my time with writing an
account of the principal quack remedies which have met with success.
They are few in number, after all, as any one must know who recalls the
countless pills and tonics which are puffed awhile on the fences, and
disappear, to be heard of no more.

Lastly, I inclined for a while to undertake a private insane asylum,
which appeared to me to offer facilities for money-making, as to which,
however, I may have been deceived by the writings of certain popular
novelists. I went so far, I may say, as actually to visit Concord for
the purpose of finding a pleasant locality and a suitable atmosphere.
Upon reflection I abandoned my plans, as involving too much personal
labor to suit one of my easy frame of mind.

Tired at last of idleness and lounging on the Common, I engaged in two
or three little ventures of a semi-professional character, such as
an exhibition of laughing-gas, advertising to cure cancer,--"Send
twenty-five stamps by mail to J. B., and receive an infallible
receipt,"--etc. I did not find, however, that these little enterprises
prospered well in New England, and I had recalled very forcibly a story
which my father was fond of relating to me in my boyhood. It was about
how certain very knowing flies went to get molasses, and how it ended by
the molasses getting them. This, indeed, was precisely what happened to
me in all my efforts to better myself in the Northern States, until at
length my misfortunes climaxed in total and unexpected ruin.

Having been very economical, I had now about twenty-seven hundred
dollars. It was none too much. At this time I made the acquaintance of a
sea-captain from Maine. He told me that he and two others had chartered
a smart little steamer to run to Jamaica with a variety cargo. In fact,
he meant to run into Wilmington or Charleston, and he was to
carry quinine, chloroform, and other medical requirements for the
Confederates. He needed twenty-five hundred dollars more, and a doctor
to buy the kind of things which army surgeons require. Of course I was
prudent and he careful, but at last, on his proving to me that there was
no risk, I agreed to expend his money, his friends', and my own up to
twenty-five hundred dollars. I saw the other men, one of them a rebel
captain. I was well pleased with the venture, and resolved for obvious
reasons to go with them on the steamer. It was a promising investment,
and I am free to reflect that in this, as in some other things, I have
been free from vulgar prejudices. I bought all that we needed, and was
well satisfied when it was cleverly stowed away in the hold.

We were to sail on a certain Thursday morning in September, 1863. I
sent my trunk to the vessel, and went down the evening before we were to
start to go on board, but found that the little steamer had been hauled
out from the pier. The captain, who met me at this time, endeavored
to get a boat to ferry us to the ship; but a gale was blowing, and he
advised me to wait until morning. My associates were already on board.
Early next day I dressed and went to the captain's room, which proved to
be empty. I was instantly filled with doubt, and ran frantically to the
Long Wharf, where, to my horror, I could see no signs of the vessel or
captain. Neither have I ever set eyes on them from that time to this.
I thought of lodging information with the police as to the unpatriotic
design of the rascal who swindled me, but on the whole concluded that it
was best to hold my tongue.