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| Stephen Girard |
This following passages were first published in my book Stephen Girard: America's Colonial Olympian.
(The reader may
remember that George Washington died in 1799. The following fictionalized
dialog took place on the very day of Stephen Girard’s death in 1831. It is to
be supposed that the exchange is a result of Girard’s high fever and state of
anxious confusion.)
(Girard is stretched out on his bed, mumbling to himself.
There is a knock at the door. Girard does not respond but a tall gentleman,
elegantly dressed comes into the bedroom.)
Girard: Who are
you Sir and what business do you pursue in my home?
Man: I have come
without invitation to pay my respects to Monsieur Girard, Esquire.
Girard: (Now
sitting up, his face is covered with perspiration. His illness has made his
voice weak.) Do I know you, Sir? There is something familiar about your bearing?
Man: We have
never formally met but I’m sure you know of me as I know of Stephen Girard. I
have had much fame but you have earned much more.
Girard: Come to
the point, Man. My hours on this earth are few remaining. Are you a churchman
come to ask for alms?
Man: I come for
no reason at all but to ask for a few moments of your time. You came to this
city while you were still a young man of twenty-five. I saw trouble written on
your face from the very start but I was always going hither and yon, always to
do battle with the very nation I once fought for.
Girard: Mon Dieu! Le Général George Washington! (Girard starts to rise but falls
back.) But you died some thirty years ago!
Washington: Your
mind is not affected by your illness. Yes, I am Washington and as I remember, I
was not your favorite president.
Girard: But if
you are dead and I’m speaking to you, it means that I am…
Washington: Not
yet… but soon. We’ll extend this evening for you as long as possible. In paying
my respects; I must first say that I have done myself no service in failing to
make your acquaintance. At a time when
this young country was struggling to gain its independence, you encouraged the
French community to rally support of the monarch of France to come to our aid.
Girard: Yes, it
was King Louis who agreed to send the Marquis de Lafayette to bring defeat to
the arrogant British on land and on sea. Yes, my mind is working clearly but my
body cannot keep up.
Washington: And
do you remember why Frenchmen turned against me years after the war? Why you
spoke out publicly against my decisions?
Girard: Ah oui, Mon Président. I remember that you accepted all the sacrifices of
my people as though it was your due and when France needed your support against
its enemies, you decided to remain neutral. The dead French soldiers on the
fields of Pennsylvania cry out in outrage that you would not help their
motherland.
Washington: (Moves
closer to Girard and wipes the perspiration from his brow.) Yes, that was my
decision. Some agreed with it, others did not. Now you must not become too
agitated.
Girard: Agitated?
Let me at least have my anger. We were told that you wanted America to become a
strong nation without enemies. You succeeded though in making France, a devoted Friend—your new enemy. Not only did Britain continue stealing or destroying
your ships but France began doing the same. It was a bad decision, Mon Président.
Washington:
Thinking about it now, I may have decided differently but we were building a
nation and could not afford the luxury of going to war again.
Girard: But I
knew that at heart you were an Englishman. You spoke their language, enjoyed
their food, as though that were possible, and you laughed at their humor. France
offered you friendship but we could never compete with the British who were
your kind of people.
Washington: I
have often wished I had done more for the French community in Philadelphia but
there was always some crisis that took my energy and time. I wanted to thank
you personally for coming to the aid of Philadelphia during the epidemics of
yellow fever in 1793 and later. While the leaders of our government left the
city in haste, you and a handful of brave men remained with the afflicted to
help them survive or to bury their bodies. Why did you do it? You could have
contracted the illness.
Girard: It may
have been as universal as having the mentality of the immigrant who wanted to
be accepted in a hostile environment by taking dangerous risks. Or maybe it was
the need to reach out to help the helpless and to bring order to the chaos. I
knew I had to stop that ridiculous practice of bleeding the patients who needed
all their strength to fight off the sickness. Someday, a better understanding
of yellow fever will prevail.
Washington: You
certainly had sufficient resources to leave the city for a more hospitable
environment.
Girard: Money was
never an issue.
Washington: When
we learned that you and that fellow Helm had volunteered to work with the
diseased patients, we were all astonished. Rumors were flying that Peter Helm
trusted in God to save him from the illness, but you trusted in your instincts
that yellow fever was not contagious. You were severely criticized by the
College of Physicians for taking unnecessary risks with the lives of the
patients as well as with yourself.
Girard: When I
volunteered to work at Bush Hill, I made it clear that I wanted complete
authority to make the decisions I felt were necessary to save lives. I received
that authority and began by firing the incompetent doctors who believed that
working at Bush Hill was no more important than playing tennis. They were dilettantes
and needed to be sent home.
Washington: This
is no criticism, mind you, but why were you against hiring American doctors?
Girard: They
lacked the qualifications. None met the strict requirement of having worked
with this disease before. The ones who asked to be reinstated all fell in
behind Benjamin Rush and his unshakeable theory of bleeding and purging. The
man I asked to join the staff, a Frenchman, had worked closely with yellow
fever in the West Indies and had even contracted the disease on two occasions
and cured himself as well as many of his patients. With the concurrence of the
hospital committee, we brought Dr. Jean Devèze into the hospital and accepted
his desire to volunteer his services.
Washington: In
what way was Dr. Devèze different than other competent doctors?
Girard: He
believed that a healthy body can fight off many diseases. He understood that a
healthy environment is essential to recovery. It was his belief that bleeding
and purging can seriously diminish a patient’s ability to recover.
Dr. Devèze:
(Enters the room) Ah! Mon cher
Etienne. Comment-vas tu?
Girard: What a
coincidence. We were just talking about you. (Turns to Washington) President
Washington, I should like to present Doctor Devèze who was the main physician at
Bush Hill. (The men shake hands.) I’m glad when you are nearby so that you can
answer questions the answers for which I am not qualified to give. General
Washington and I were discussing yellow fever and that it may have been
infecting people since ancient times.
Dr. Devèze: That
may be so but it has not been cited in any literature during ancient times. For
example we know that leprosy appears in the Old Testament in the Book of Leviticus. The word quarantine
comes from the Latin meaning forty. It was believed that forty days was the
necessary time that a person had to remain apart from others. We are reasonably
certain that yellow fever had its first appearance in Africa, although it was probably
not called that. In the Western Hemisphere, yellow fever appeared in 1648. The
Spanish called the disease “vomito negro” or black vomit. Patients in the last
stages of the disease are known to vomit large quantities of digested blood.
Washington: Do
all those who contract yellow fever die?
Dr. Devèze: To
date, there have not been many studies as to the fatality of yellow fever
patients. We do know that many recover. I would estimate more than fifty
percent recover.
Girard: Do you
believe that yellow fever is contagious, Jean?
Dr. Devèze: My
experience tells me that the disease probably does not pass from person to
person. (Turning to Washington) Our friend here, Stephen Girard, had a most
unusual and unpleasant experience with a patient he was comforting. As he was
wiping the patient’s forehead, the poor man vomited into Girard’s lap.
Washington: What
did Girard do?
Dr. Devèze: With
a calm professional air, he cleaned the man’s face and garment and went off to
wash his own face and hands and change his clothes. Within fifteen minutes, he
had returned to the patient to ask if he needed anything.
Washington: I’ve
heard many stories of the events at Bush Hill, but I had never heard about
that. Girard, what became of the poor fellow?
Girard: He died
that evening.
Dr. Devèze: The
story may support the belief of many that, since Girard did not become ill with
the disease, contagion was not at issue. Please forgive me, but I must leave
now. I still have rounds to make and it’s getting late. (Exits)
Washington: What
an extraordinary fellow. We were lucky to have him. The results of the 1793
epidemic were favorable. You, Girard, and your team brought the deaths down
from over one hundred a day to no deaths in about sixty days.
Girard: Merci, Mon Président. I must tell you, however,
that yellow fever is a hot weather illness. As the weather turned cooler, we
had fewer deaths. What I have learned is that the filth of our streets with
garbage and dead animals does not bode well for healthy living. People who
abuse of drink have a harder time with a regime of good healthy food and drinks
without spirits.
Washington: I was
much concerned with the epidemic and its damage to the capital as well as the
fear it sent out to bordering cities. I urged the churchmen to stop the bells
from tolling at each death because public morale would suffer. I wanted my wife
Martha to leave the city immediately for our home in Mount Vernon but she would
not think of going alone. I then explored the possibility of moving the capital
out of town. My federal employees believed that it would be possible but the
matter of convening Congress remained a problem.
Girard: When was
it Sir, that you left Philadelphia?
Washington: After
moving the federal offices away from the city to Germantown, I left
Philadelphia for Virginia on September 10th. I had put Secretary of
War Henry Knox in charge of the government, giving strict instructions to send
me reports on the pestilence. He, however, decided to close his house and move.
He wanted to settle in Manhattan but he was not allowed to stay there.
Girard: I don’t
mean to criticize, Sir, but as an old sailor myself, I find it difficult to
believe that any ship captain would jump into a rowboat to get away from an
endangered vessel while others were still aboard.
Washington: You
don’t mean to criticize but you do and you have. It was a political matter.
Alexander Hamilton and others in my party believed that Congress could be
moved.
Girard: Others
such as Jefferson and Madison did not share that belief. Clearly the matter was
political. You left the capital in the hands of a person who was quick to leave
as well. But you were not alone, thousands panicked and left. Even our dear
Governor Mifflin stayed behind just long enough to arrange a hasty departure after
reporting to his office that he was feeling poorly.
Washington: Now
that we are speaking frankly, a captain who puts his vessel in harm’s way has
the obligation to stay behind until matters are corrected.
Girard: Are you
saying what I think you are saying?
Washington: If
that is what you think I am saying, then it is not the first time you’ve
entertained the thought yourself.
Girard: I’m too ill to follow your sophist arguments.
Washington: No,
you are too clever to let on you understand. Let me break in with digestible
morsels. The College of Physicians declared that yellow fever was an imported
disease. The College went on to say: “No instance has ever occurred of the
disease called yellow fever, [as] having originated in this city, or any other
parts of the United States.” Are the morsels still too large for easy
digestion?
Girard: No. I
gather you are saying that those individuals involved in importing cargoes from
other countries may be guilty of contributory negligence and responsible for
bringing a foreign disease to our shores. But my good man, the reasoning is off
kilter. Just because a disease has not originated in this country does not mean
that it could never start anew here. Furthermore, my own brother, while living
in Louisiana more than twenty years ago became ill with yellow fever in an
isolated case and was quickly cured. No. I maintain that this disease is not
contagious. Why would I have taken such a needless risk if I did not firmly
believe that the disease spreads by other means? I may be completely wrong and
proved so in the future, but I suspect that the culprit is garbage, swamp water
and the mosquito.
(Girard's conversation with George Washington continues in Part II)
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