About sixty years ago Oliver Wendell Holmes, taking dinner one night in
Philadelphia with his friend, Dr. John K. Mitchell, was so pleased with
one of Dr. Mitchell's boys, by name Silas Weir, then a little more than
ten years old, that he gave the boy a copy of his famous ballad on the
frigate Constitution.
Some seventeen years later, in 1856, when Silas was a young doctor,
with a brand-new degree, he showed Dr. Holmes a book of poems which he
hoped to have published. Dr. Holmes advised the young man to put the
poems away until he was forty, and then to reconsider his determination
to have them published. "The publication of these verses at this
time," said the genial but shrewd Autocrat, "will do you no good. They
will not help you in your life as a physician, and they cannot stand
alone." The soundness of Dr. Holmes's judgment was later proved by
the circumstance that the young man blossomed into one of the most
distinguished physicians of his time. Dr. Mitchell's volume of poems,
"The Hill of Stones," published about four years ago, contains just one
of the poems offered to the Boston poet in 1856, namely, "Herndon."
As an author, Dr. Mitchell is less celebrated than his friendly
counsellor; but as a doctor he is far more celebrated than was Dr.
Holmes in his palmiest days.
S. Weir Mitchell, one of the six sons of Dr. John Kearsley Mitchell,
was born in Philadelphia on February 16, 1829. His father was then
a leader in his profession. He was one of the first Americans to
investigate scientifically "animal magnetism," as hypnotism was called
in the early part of the last century; and, moreover, he was a highly
valued contributor to the medical periodicals of the day. It is
noteworthy that he had a taste for literature. Two of his lyrics, "The
Old Song and the New Song" and "Prairie Lea," had a wide popularity in
their day.
At the age of fifteen Weir Mitchell entered the University of
Pennsylvania. There he spent three years; and afterward he entered
Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia, in which his father was a
professor. One of the severest disappointments in the son's life
came in 1870, twenty years after graduation, when, notwithstanding
the solicitation of influential friends, he failed of election to a
professorship in Jefferson College. However, this disappointment, like
the one which he met when he consulted Dr. Holmes about his first book
of poems, worked eventually to his greater glory.
After graduation from Jefferson College Dr. Mitchell, as we shall call
our author henceforth, went to Paris, whence, owing to an attack of
smallpox, he was obliged to return in less than two years.
By this time the young doctor had lost sight of his literary star. His
ambition was to teach medicine. The first article from his pen appeared
in the _American Journal of Medical Science_. Other articles followed
with quick regularity, but to none of these early writings, we believe,
does Dr. Mitchell attach much importance. From 1858 until 1862, when he
enlisted as an army surgeon, the doctor devoted his spare hours to the
study of poisons, particularly snake poisons. Not long after the Civil
War, by the way, one of the largest rattlesnakes ever sent to him died
of cold. Dr. Mitchell had the skin preserved and tanned, and he sent
it to Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes with the suggestion that it might make
a worthy binding for "Elsie Venner." "I thank you for it," Dr. Holmes
wrote back, "especially because it makes an attractive binding, and I
know that its bark is better than its bite." It would be interesting to
pursue Dr. Mitchell's scientific achievements, but such a pursuit would
be too long to agree with the purpose of this sketch.
However, his career as a war surgeon is worth looking at, for it had
something to do with his subsequent advent as a writer of fiction. Dr.
Mitchell and his associates made a deep study not only of the effects
of certain wounds but also of the effects of environment. Much of
the curious information thus derived was given to the world through
the medical papers. It was undoubtedly the study followed during
this period which formed the base of Dr. Mitchell's now universally
recognized success as a neurologist. The universality of his fame as a
specialist in nervous diseases has two substantial witnesses. One is
the oration delivered at Edinburgh University in 1895, when he received
the title of Doctor of Laws. In that oration he was spoken of as "the
chief ornament to medical science in the new world." The other witness
is the story of his visit some years ago to Dr. Charcot, one of the
great French authorities on nervous diseases. Dr. Mitchell did not give
his name; he merely said that he was from Philadelphia, and that there
was something the matter with his nerves.
"Why," said Dr. Charcot, "you should never have come beyond
Philadelphia for advice for such an ailment. You have a physician in
your own city better qualified to manage your case than I am."
"Indeed," the visitor is said to have remarked; "and who may he be?"
"Dr. S. Weir Mitchell," replied Dr. Charcot; "and as I know him by
correspondence I will venture to give you a letter to him. You should
consult him upon your return home."
"No, thanks," said the American smiling, "I am Dr. S. Weir Mitchell."
Certainly a handsome compliment for Dr. Mitchell! And certainly a
remarkable piece of professional modesty on the part of Dr. Charcot!
Perhaps it is well to say at this point that, in 1896, Harvard
University also honored Dr. Mitchell with the title of Doctor of Laws;
that he is a member of the American National Academy of Sciences, an
honorary member of the Clinical Society of London, the London Medical
Society, the Royal Academy of Medicine of Rome, and a corresponding
member of many other foreign medical societies; and that he was once
President of the Congress of American Physicians and Surgeons. In 1888
the University of Bologna conferred on him the title of Doctor of
Medicine.
Dr. Mitchell's entrance into romantic literature was made anonymously
and, it might be said, accidentally. Soon after the close of the
Civil War, the story goes, he and some professional associates one
day discussed all sides of the question whether the loss of the limbs
involves the loss of the victim's individuality. As a result of that
discussion Dr. Mitchell wrote the story of the fictitious case of one
George Dedlow, who had suffered the loss of his arms and his legs.
The story, which, as they who have read it know, is an intensely
interesting complication of romance and science, came to the hands
of the Rev. Dr. Furness, one of Dr. Mitchell's friends, who took the
liberty of sending it to Edward Everett Hale, in Boston. Dr. Hale, who,
at that time, was at the height of his literary power, saw that the
story was rare material, and he submitted it forthwith to the editor
of _The Atlantic Monthly_. It was promptly accepted, and the first Dr.
Mitchell knew of what had happened was when he received a proof of the
story, together with a good-sized check and a note complimenting him on
the freshness and attractiveness of his article. "The Case of George
Dedlow," indeed, was described so realistically that, according to
tradition, subscriptions were raised for the poor victim's support and
comfort. The newspapers, too, started a discussion of the prodigy, and
it was a long time before the public became persuaded that the tale was
utter fiction, put together with extraordinary skill.
Dr. Mitchell's first book was "Children's Hours," a collection of
fairy tales, illustrated by Dr. John Packard. The book was in no sense
a great literary effort; it was intended to serve, and did serve, a
charitable purpose. His first novel was "In War Times," published
serially in _The Atlantic Monthly_ in 1885. Between that time and the
publication of "Hugh Wynne" in 1897, the Philadelphian wrote a number
of works, the most notable among which were a few dramatic poems. The
poems delighted the critical; they were caviare to the general. Dr.
Mitchell is not a poet of the "golden clime" of which Tennyson speaks;
he has simply found in poetry the fittest vehicle for the expression
of some attractive and stirring ideas. His verse reveals his fine
sympathy with the true poets rather than his intimate association with
them.
Unqualified success came to the veteran author with the publication in
1897 of "Hugh Wynne, Free Quaker," which will be remembered in years to
come as one of the choicest of American novels. The writing of "Hugh
Wynne," which was done at Bar Harbor in the summer of 1896, in less
than two months, took years of preparation. It is said that he wrote
to a woman "for the name and a full description of every article of
apparel worn by a lady in America in the years before and about the
time" of the Revolution. Moreover: "One will find on the shelves of
his library at home," says a casual biographer, "great rows of books
consulted in the preparation of the novel, and among them, as samples,
will be noticed Keith's 'Provincial Councillors of Pennsylvania,'
Watson's 'Annals,' Trumble's 'The Knightly Soldier,' Fiske's 'Critical
Period of American History,' 'The True George Washington,' by Ford;
Professor McMaster's 'History of the United States,' 'The Cannoneer,'
by Buell, and scores of others, some of them very rare." We find it
also said that every chapter of importance in the story was written
at least twice, and that some chapters were written even three times,
before the manuscript was sent to the publisher. Nothing which Dr.
Mitchell has written since shows a power equal to the power of "Hugh
Wynne." That novel, therefore, must be regarded as his supreme literary
effort. "The Adventures of François" proved entertaining and nothing
more; its early popularity was an echo of the immense popularity of
the Revolutionary story. "Dr. North and His Friends" is not, as many
suppose, an autobiography; but it may fairly be said that by means
of Dr. North the author relates some of his most remarkable personal
impressions and personal experiences.
Dr. Holmes was once a little disturbed, and much amused, at the
same time, by a reference to his "medicated writings." The careful
reader will note a strong pathological element in most of Dr.
Mitchell's works; not enough, however, to warrant describing them as
"medicated." The fact is, Dr. Mitchell has made good use of his rare
scientific knowledge in the development of many of his characters.
One of his intimate friends is reported to have said once that the
doctor is constantly studying human characteristics, especially the
characteristics of singular persons. "He picks out their brains in a
very fine and delicate way," said the friend. "Thus he studies human
nature, much in that same synthetical manner in which he dissects a
physical malady."
Personally the author of "Hugh Wynne" is described as gentle, cordial,
and, in convivial company, very entertaining. It has frequently
been said of him that he appears to be what he is,--a scholar and a
scientist.
Some years ago, when Dr. Mitchell was a guest in one of the
semi-literary clubs in London, he and the circle around him fell into
a discussion of problem novels, which finally resolved itself into a
discussion of "Tess of the D'Urbervilles," then in the heyday of its
popularity. Dr. Mitchell took his ground on two points: he expressed
admiration of Mr. Hardy as an artist, but utter dislike of the scheme
of "Tess." A man who had meantime joined the circle entered quietly and
unobtrusively into the conversation, admitting the force of some of
Dr. Mitchell's general objections to problem novels, but maintaining
the ethical and artistic merits of the plan of Judge Hardy's new book.
The newcomer showed such an intimate knowledge of the construction of
"Tess" that the American paid more than ordinary attention to him. At
length, when the company was dispersing, Dr. Mitchell's host, with an
innocent smile, proceeded to make the two debaters formally acquainted
with each other.
"This is a friend of mine, Doctor," he said to his guest, "about whose
work you know a great deal. Allow me to introduce to you Thomas Hardy,
with whom you can hardly find any fault for defending poor Tess."
The acquaintance thus curiously begun has since ripened into a rich
friendship.
Dr. Mitchell does most of his literary work at Bar Harbor, in the
summer. There is no sign of the end of this pure labor of love; but
the work which exists already is sufficient, in itself, to show that
a man burdened with the gravest interests of medical science may give
profitable and brilliant employment to his imagination.
[Illustration: ROBERT GRANT.]