Forty Years in the Wilderness of Pills and Powders. Alcott William Andrus
It consisted chiefly of bread, fruits, potatoes; and, once a day of salted meats. These last should have been exchanged for those which were not pickled, and which are of course less stimulating; but at that time I was not fully aware of their tone and tendency. My drink was water and a little tea; for cider I had long before abandoned.
I paid particular attention to purity of air, and to temperance. Fortunately I resided in a house which from age and decrepitude, pretty effectually ventilated itself. But temperature, as I well knew, must be carefully attended to, particularly by consumptive people. While they avoid permanent chilliness, and even at times, the inhalation of very cold air on the one hand, it is quite indispensable that they should breathe habitually as cool an air as possible, and yet not be permanently chilly. This, by means of a proper dress, by night and by day, and proper fixtures for heating my room, I contrived to secure.
Cleanliness, too, by dint of frequent bathing, received its full share of my attention. It was a rule from which I seldom if ever departed, to wet my body daily with cold water, and follow it up by friction. At home or abroad, wherever I could get a bowl of water I would have a hand bath.
Need I say here that a medical man – one who rode daily on horseback – paid a proper regard to the laws of exercise? And yet I am well persuaded that not a few medical men exercise far too little. Riding on horseback, though it may sometimes shake off consumption, is not so good an exercise for the mass of mankind – perhaps not even for consumptive people themselves – as an alternation of walking with the riding. This, also, I took good care to secure.
Physicians are usually either very greatly addicted to the habit of dosing and drugging for every little ill, real or imaginary, or particularly hostile to it. I have seldom found any such thing as a golden mean in this respect, among them. My feelings, saying nothing at present of the sober convictions of my head, led me almost to the extreme of no medicine, if extreme it can be called. I did not even retain my daily tumbler of ale.
Though I began my medical career as an apprentice or journeyman, merely, and went abroad chiefly as the associate of my predecessor, I was soon called upon in his absence, and in other circumstances, to take the whole charge of patients; or at least to do so till a longer experience was available. Thus I was gradually inducted into an important office, without incurring a full and proportionate share of its responsibilities.
CHAPTER XXV
MY TEMPERANCE PLEDGE
The subject of Temperance, in its present associated forms, had, at this time, just began to be agitated. At least, it had just begun to receive attention in the newspapers which I was accustomed to see. It could not be otherwise than that I should be deeply interested in its discussion.
I had been brought up, as I have before intimated, to a pretty free use of cider and tea; but not of ardent spirits or coffee. Neither of these was regularly used in my father's family; though both occasionally were. But I had abandoned cider long before this time, because I found it had a tendency to produce, or at least to aggravate, those eruptive diseases to which I was greatly liable. Temperance, then, in the popular sense of the term, was, to me, an easy virtue.
And yet as a temperance man – in the circle of my acquaintance – I stood nearly alone. No individual around me was ready to take the ground I occupied. Of this, however, I was not fully apprised, till a patient attempt to recruit the temperance ranks convinced me of the fact. But I will give you a full account of my enterprise, since it has a bearing on my subsequent history and confessions.
With the aid of a Boston paper which I habitually read, I drew up the customary preamble, declaration, and pledge of a temperance society. It involved the great idea of total abstinence from spirituous liquors; though by the term spirituous liquors, as used at that day, was meant chiefly distilled spirits. Having first affixed my own name to the paper I went to the most influential of my patrons and friends and asked them to sign it likewise. But, reader, – will you believe it? – not a single subscriber could I obtain far, or near. They all, with one consent, made excuse.
The elder deacon of the most evangelical church in the place where I resided, had for his apology that he suffered seriously from a complaint for which his physicians had prescribed the daily use of gin, "Now," said he, "though there is nothing in the pledge which goes to prohibit the use of spirits in a case like my own, yet as some might think otherwise and charge me with inconsistency, I must on the whole be excused from signing it."
His son, who was also a deacon in the same church with the father, excused himself by saying he was young, and without influence, and it would be far better for the old people to put their names down first. "Perhaps," said he, "I may conclude to sign the paper by-and-by. I will consider well the matter, and if I conclude to sign it, I will let you know."
Other leading men in the church as well as in the town affairs, refused to sign the pledge, because Deacon H. and son would not. It belonged to the deacons in the church, they said, to take the lead in all good things, and not to them. When they had put their names to the document, others would not long hesitate to follow.
In short nobody would consent to sign the paper, and it remains to this day, just as it was when I drew it up; and it is now more than thirty years old. There it is, with my name attached to it, as large as life. I have been President, Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, and "all hands too," of my would-be Temperance Society, from that day to this. I doubt whether many societies can be found which in thirty years have made so little change as the one under consideration.
For about four years from the time of getting up the above-named temperance society, strange as the assertion may seem, I retained the right to use a little beer and a good deal of coffee. But in May, 1830, I abandoned all drinks but water, to which custom I have ever since adhered and in which I shall probably die.
CHAPTER XXVI
TRIALS OF A YOUNG PHYSICIAN
The poet Cowper, in his delineations of a candidate for the pulpit, prescribes, as one needful condition or qualification,
"That he is honest in the sacred cause."
So, when I entered upon the medical profession, which I regarded as next of kin to sacred, I deemed honesty quite a high recommendation; and whatever in the abstract appeared to me to be right, I endeavored to pursue through the routine of every-day life. Alas, that I should ever have had occasion to doubt the policy of common honesty!
I was called to see Mrs. – . The case was an urgent one. There was no time for deliberation or consultation. I understood her case but very poorly; yet I knew that in order to success I must at least seem to be wise. Besides, what was to be done must be done quickly; so I boldly prescribed. My prescription was entirely successful, and I left the house with flying colors. I left, moreover, with the full consciousness of having acted in the main like an honest man.
A few days afterward I was sent for by Mrs. – , who immediately filled my ears with the most piteous complaints, the sum total of which was that she was exceedingly nervous, and I told her so. Of course I did not complain of culpability or crime. But I told her, very plainly, that she needed no medicine – nothing but plenty of air and exercise, and less high-seasoned food. My great frankness gave offence, and impaired my reputation. She employed, in my stead, Dr. Robinson, who continued to attend her till his bill amounted to a sum sufficient to buy a good carriage and harness, and till his credit for skill was advanced in a degree corresponding.
Mr. B.'s child was sick, and his wife besides. He came for my predecessor; but, not finding him at home, – though he still remained in the place, – he was compelled to Hobson's choice – myself or nobody; Dr. Robinson lived at too great a distance. I was accordingly employed, and was soon on the spot. The child was very sick; and for some little time after my arrival I was so much occupied in the performance of my duties that I paid no attention to any thing else. But having prescribed for both my patients, I sat down quietly to look over the newspaper.
Presently I heard from Mrs. B. a deep groan. I was immediately at her bedside, anxious to know the cause. "Oh, nothing at all," she said, "except a momentary feeling of disappointment because Dr. – did not come." I said to her, "You can send