Stephen Girard |
In Philadelphia, the rage of the yellow fever outbreak of 1793 had at last run its course. George Washington and many of his staff had returned to the city to resume their functions. One man of means, Stephen Girard had remained throughout the entire holocaust directing the doctors and volunteers at Bush Hill, caring for the afflicted and putting his life in danger each day. One cool day in October he received a visit from a prominent citizen. Dr. Benjamin Rush was a physician, writer and educator. He was considered by many to be too involved in politics. He was a signer of the Declaration of Independence and attended the Continental Congress. He was fond of talking down to people he considered inferior. In the following exchange, we find he has selected the wrong person.
Stephen Girard: Well, I must say, this
is indeed a surprise. Come in Dr. Rush.
Benjamin Rush: Mr. Girard, I have come
to see if you are feeling better.
Girard: Pas très mal, Merci. Much better, thank you, Doctor.
Rush: However, I am not entirely
certain I approve of your activities during the outbreak.
Girard: I am not entirely certain I
approve of my own activities but I did what I thought was necessary under the
grim circumstances.
Rush: It is one thing to take over the
functions of administrating an ad hoc
medical facility but it is quite another to make medical decisions.
Girard: That may be true but it is
certainly also true that a good percentage of the city’s leaders had fled the yellow
fever epidemic. In the absence of medical leadership, I assumed the
responsibilities.
Rush: But my good man, you are not a
physician.
Girard: I am also not your good man. Is
there anything else you wish to say?
Rush: There certainly is. Just because
you have money does not give you the right to dismiss fully trained physicians
and replace them with French doctors who have never practiced in America.
Girard: I have money because I am a
good businessman who can detect incompetence and dilettantism. I dismissed
several doctors who failed to meet their responsibilities by taking days off
without permission or coming in late leaving their patients without care.
Rush: Under what authority did you make
these decisions?
Girard: Under the authority of extreme
need. I don’t know where you spent the last three months but you were not here.
The Hospital Committee accepted my conditions for serving and was grateful for
my time and my contributions.
Rush: Bush Hill is not a hospital; it’s
a private residence.
Girard: Because scores of people were
dying every day, we needed a facility which was large enough, isolated enough
and far from what seemed to be the lower quarters of Philadelphia where the
fever was the most prevalent.
Rush:
What did the hospital committee do for the sick?
Girard:
The committee held a meeting of people whose loved ones had been contaminated
asking for volunteers to work for the patients. The committee was astonished
and pleased when two wealthy men in the crowd raised their hands. Peter Helm
and I had volunteered. If you are
interested in reading the hospital record, you will see what committee member,
Matthew Carey, wrote about us: “…sympathizing with the wretched situation of
the sufferers at Bush Hill, they voluntarily and unexpectedly offered themselves,
Girard to act as manager to superintend that hospital and Helm as his
assistant.”
Rush:
So you organized the work of all the volunteers and the new doctors and
nurses you hired.
Girard:
I thought it was safer for Helm to work outside the hospital while I remained
inside.
Rush:
So you performed the most loathsome duties, with the only reward possible being
a nameless grave upon the heights of Bush Hill. Is that how you became
infected?
Girard:
At the height of the epidemic, I felt a fever coming on but I managed to control
and eradicate it with what I called “lavage” or constant washing.
Rush:
When the outbreak subsided, the City Hall of Philadelphia hailed you as a hero.
Girard: I was
moved by their demonstration of gratitude.
Rush: How did
Philadelphia’s Mayor Clarkson attempt to purify the air during the epidemic?
Girard: At the
suggestion of the College of Physicians, the mayor had the militia fire off
blasts from a small canon. He also suggested that people carry camphor in their
clothing. I’m not sure how effective that was.
Rush: You say
that the disease seemed to be concentrated in the lower sections of the city?
Is that not the waterfront area where you have your wharf?
Girard: The
epidemic seemed to center around Water Street. People believed that a pile of
rotting coffee that had been dislodged from a cart was causing people on Water
Street to get sick. But that’s a bit ridiculous.
Rush: Who made
the suggestion to Mayor Clarkson to have the streets cleaned of dead animals
and garbage?
Girard: I made
several requests that City Hall have the streets cleaned. The flies swarmed
around rotting dogs, cats and rats in the street. I believe our epidemic is related to this
filth.
Rush: There is
little doubt in my mind that yellow fever is a highly contagious disease.
Girard: Not being
the scientist that you are, I believe that lack of cleanliness is to some
degree responsible as well as the heat of the summer months.
Rush: Well, I
shall take my leave with a suggestion in parting that you devote yourself to
your shipping business and leave medicine to the physicians.
Girard: And I to
you with a suggestion that you take your nose out of politics for which you
are ill prepared and stop sending letters to Washington and Adams that are
often published in the newspapers. I might add, that you should learn a bit more about
medicine and, above all, cease this terrible practice of bleeding your patients
and taking away the little strength that they have. Goodbye to you, Sir.
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