USA > Connecticut > New London County > A modern history of New London County, Connecticut, Volume I > Part 49
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Mr. Day was tall in stature, erect in carriage, spare in build, had an open and pleasing countenance and altogether he possessed an impressive and commanding figure and in the ordinary gatherings of men about him he appeared to overlook and tower above his associates. He was always familiar, cordial and pleasant to his fellowmen and brethren of the bar. His general manner was one of human interest and sociability. He entertained no preju- dices or dislikes against persons because of racial, religious. political or other differences from him. The station, high or low of one's life, did not move him from the equipose of a wellbred man. There was nothing querulous or critical-minded in his attitude or dealings, he was at all times broadminded and ever equable in the most trying circumstances, and was what we may well call an all 'round good-natured man.
At the bar in the trial of causes to the judge and to the jury, he had an easy and complacent bearing and was sure of himself and his cause. and by his demeanor provoked no hostility, but rather enlisted the full attention, consideration and favor of the trier and his fellow lawyers. In his advocacy and arguments he was sensible, zealous, reasonable, fair and convincing, and was susceptible and respectful to the force of an argument against him. He had absolute self-control and poise, and in the heat of all contentions never allowed anger, recrimination or personalities to enter the discussions on his part, or himself to be provoked thereto by his opponents.
Surviving Mr. Day were two daughters, Misses Elizabeth Dav and Susan I. Day, both of whom lived in the home with their father; and two sons, Edwin M. Day, of Hartford, and David S. Day, of Bridgeport, well known, able lawyers at the bar of this State.
Judge Shields was followed by Attorney Abel P. Tanner with the follow- ing eloquent eulogy on Mr. Day :
Colonel Rapier, in the Peninsula Campaign. censuring an archaic military custom, once said of the English soldier that he was never officially com- mended in that campaign for distinguished service.
I fancy the same could have been said sometimes with equal truth of Erastus S. Day. He controlled the destiny of his party in this State for years, with phenomenal success, lifting others into prominence, while he, with char-
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acteristic self-effacement, toiled in the background and carried on unseen. In the exceptionally fine tribute to him, drafted by Judge Shields, is a sum- mary of his political activities, the positions he filled, the offices he held and the various honors conferred upon him. It is not a lengthy statement, for the positions, after all, were not many, and the honors conferred were not always distinguished. We are constrained to turn from the record and think of the places he could have had for the asking, in any attempt to appraise his political career. Erastus S. Day could have had any office in the gift of this State. He could have been its governor without doubt; he could have sat on its highest bench ; he could have been a national figure and been classed with the statesmen of his time, if, forsooth, he had cared. Apparently he didn't care. He was temperamentally indifferent to the lure of public office. In political classification he was of that number who ask for nothing and always get it. He sat at the civic banquet board where politicians gathered, and ate the bread there served, without carping at its quality. He cheerfully passed the delicacies on to the neighboring guests without first helping him- self, and if the dish came back empty, as it generally did, he never complained. He helped others to secure some coveted positions of honor and trust which they filled passing well; but they seldom helped him-he never asked them to do so-and-he did not help himself. Hence, his name is not written on the scroll of fame. Yet he was intrinsically great. There is a greatness that we call innate-that inheres in the person-and there is a greatness that is conferred from without. The greatness that exists in the person survives; it will cross the final tide; but the greatness that is conferred will stop at the water's edge. E. S. Day was personally great. He was forceful ; he was intellectual ; he was faithful ; he was honest ; he was stalwart and true. Like the City of God, he stood four-square. He was a competent and resourceful lawyer who served his clients well. He was congenial and democratic in his contact with his fellow-men. He never drew a line of distinction on account of color, or race, or the size of a bank account. He believed that in the country "beyond the stars" there will be no caste, and no prestige of manu- factured greatness ; that no artificial barriers will separate in the clime where earthly glory fades, and wealth no longer dictates its own terms. He did not believe it is a crime to be rich, or a virtue to be poor, but he knew that in this life "money talks," that it is sometimes deaf, but never dumb, but he believed that in the other it will be mute where character has the floor, and the gold of the Indies will not buy as much as the widow's mite.
Today we construct a kind of mental figure of him as we knew him, and others knew him, and place it in the sacred crypt where other figures stand, to meet the gaze of future generations when we have disappeared. The figure may lack detail-it may be incomplete-it may be overdrawn, but it corresponds in some degree to the man we knew as he crossed life's solemn stage.
Mr. Day was born July 7th, 1836, the last year of Andrew Jackson's administration. He died, as the minutes show, on the second of August, after a life of eighty-five years. He came to this world and departed from it in the cheerful summer time when fields and mountain sides are green; he came and left amid the scent of summer flowers, but he left with the snows of winter on his head. He had taken life's seven steps. To use another's phrase. "In him the four seasons were complete, and spring could never come again." But when the sun had set and the shades of evening were merging into night, almost it seemed the end of a "Perfect Day."
Many years ago I conversed with one who had lived in Colchester when Judge Day was young, and who knew him well. Our talk was mainly of him, and one curious remark of my acquaintance has bridged the gap of
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time. He said, "When clients come, Day always tells them to settle and keep out of the law." Strange advice for a lawyer, yet not without scrip- tural authority. "Settle with thine adversary quickly," was the counsel of the wisest of mankind.
Erastus S. Day was by nature conciliatory and pacific. He delighted in compromise as the culmination of the diplomatic art. But he wanted honorable compromise. He was no money-changer in the Temple where principles are bought and sold, and he despised the cheap barter of the market place. His motto was: "To your God, your country, and your friend, be true." He was essentially a peacemaker; and the peacemaker ranks high in New Testament literature. Christ said on the Mountain of Olive, "Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God"; but he said of the peacemakers, "They shall be called the children of God."
Mr. Day was an exemplification of New England manhood and courage. he had the virtues of the Puritan with few of his faults. When you had con- versed with him you felt that you had met the traditional New Englander of every generation. You had met the man of Concord and Bunker Hill and Yorktown's Heights. You had met him at Lundy's Lane and Cerro Gordo; you had met him at Cold Harbor and Appomattox; you had met him even in Flander's Field and in the glory of Chateau Thierry, where the Stars and Stripes mingled with the tri-color of France; and the lion and eagle and the lily moved side by side. Call this rhetorical extravagance if you will; but let me cite a single reminiscence.
In 1863, when Mr. Day was a member of the General Assembly at twenty- seven, the Honorable Henry C. Demming, of Hartford, then a member of Congress, invited him to Washington, and when he arrived he took him to the capitol to meet Abraham Lincoln. Now Mr. Lincoln in those days was overrun with callers, callers from everywhere. Clergymen called to tell him how God wished him to conduct the war; lawyers called to advise about "the Constitution as it is, and the Union as it was." Editors came to tell him how to make both peace and war. He was bored to death with callers; only his inimitable humon saved him from utter distraction, nevertheless, he greeted his visitors cordially and, after a few minutes' conversation, he took the young lawyer by the hand and said, "Mr. Day, come up to my house, I want you to meet Mrs. Lincoln and the children." With that strange insight of his, he penetrated the character of his guest and knew that he stood in the presence of one of the yeomanry of New England.
Mr. Day was almost the last of the lawyers of the great Civil War period, and I cannot take leave of the subject without some mention of them. When I came to Norwich in war time to a great political demonstration, there were, approximately, fifty lawyers in New London county ; and one of them, Judge Day, was at the age of twenty-eight, but on the excursion steamer which brought us here, there was a still younger lawyer, the presi- dent of the club which had chartered the boat, then called the "Ulysses." He was a trifle below medium height-of slender build, with classic features and black hair, and beardless face, and glasses that glinted in the sunlight ; brilli- ant in the court room, magnetic on the platform, attractive on the street, he had all the graces of the orator, with a voice and gesture that charmed, and an eloquence that stirred the multitude to action-that lawyer was T. M. Waller at twenty-four, then the youngest member of the New London County Bar.
But time has wrought its changes and sixty years have mingled with the silent yesterdays. That cheering throng has vanished, and with it the three hundred, more or less, on that excursion boat. They have crossed the strange frontier; and somewhere, in some inlet of the sea, the ribs of the "Ulysses"
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dissolve in the ebb and flow of the tide. Today, of those fifty lawyers who practiced here in war time, he who was the youngest member is all that is left, and he is old and white-haired now. In a little while you will be con- strained to say in melancholy accents: "The last of all the Romans-fare you well."
I commend these resolutions to the memory of Judge Day, with every feeling of respect. He has reached his journey's end; "the wine of life is drawn," his sands are run; and Fate turns the hour-glass no more. His career is finished ; his life is ended, his work is done; "the rest is silence."
Judge Webb closed the memorial session with a few remarks and upon motion of Judge Shields the resolutions and eulogies were ordered to be in- corporated in the court records.
CHAPTER XIII EARLY MEDICINE AND MEDICAL MEN
By Charles B. Graves, M.D., New London
The rude and primitive character of the life of our pioneer ancestors is well illustrated by the state of medicine in early colonial times. What was true of the country at large was no less true of New London county. A few adventurous physicians, or at least persons who practiced "Physic," came with the first immigrants, like Samuel Fuller of the "Mayflower," Giles Fermin of Ipswich, Mr. Pratt of Cambridge, and our own honored John Winthrop. For many years, however, the colonists were greatly lacking in skilled medical service. It is true that as many as one hundred and thirty-four are named by Savage as physicians belonging to the first three generations, that is, up to 1692. Many of these, however, were ministers and others who practiced medi- cine more or less in addition to their regular vocations. But there is no doubt that the number of trained and educated physicians in the whole country before 1700 was pitifully small. The rigorous conditions of life in the new settlements and the entire absence on this side of the ocean of medical centers of learning and research, the utter lack of hospitals and libraries, and the meager pecuniary returns, were distinctly repellent. This last consideration was voiced by Giles Fermin (Steiner,1 p. 2, quoting Hutchinson) : "I am strongly sett upon to Studye divinity ; my studies else must be lost, for physic is but a meane help." Pratt also had siimlar troubles, as noted by Governor Winthrop. "But he had long been discontented because his employment was not so profitable to himself as he desired, and it is like he feared lest he should fall into want in his old age." (Packard,' p. 12.) Nevertheless, with growth of the population of the colonies, the number of physicians did gradually increase. Some few of these had a college education. A very small proportion had medical degrees, mostly obtained in England or Scotland .*
Not until 1765 was a medical school established in this country. In that year the sixteen year old University of Pennsylvania organized a medical de- partment. This was closely followed in 1768 by the Medical School of Kings College, in the city of New York, of which the College of Physicians and Sur- geons of the University of New York was a direct continuation. The year 1783 witnessed the founding of the Harvard Medical School, 1798 that of Dartmouth. So that down to the year 1800 there were only four medical schools in the whole United States. According to Packard' (p. 156), "It has been estimated that at the outset of the War for Independence there were upward of three thousand five hundred practitioners of medicine in the colonies of whom not more than four hundred had received medical degrees." Even until well down into the 19th century the general custom was for the young aspirant to the medical profession to repair to some physician of established reputation and put himself under his tutelage. In fact, he was apprenticed to
* Superior figures refer to authorities cited at end of this chapter.
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him for a certain definite term. It frequently happened that the preceptor was father, uncle or other relative of the student. Oftentimes it was some nearby prominent doctor. In other cases a special reputation drew scholars from a greater distance. For a local example, in 1753 a grandson of Joshua Hemp- stead, the diarist, was apprenticed for a year or more to Dr. Ezekiel Porter of Wethersfield. Certain eminent practitioners such as Dr. Jared Eliot of Killing- worth, Drs. Norman Morrison and Lemuel Hopkins of Hartford, and Drs. Philip Turner and Philemon Tracy of Norwich, maintained what were in fact small private medical schools, and had a considerable following of students. The life of the medical apprentice had its hard and unpleasant features. Many of his tasks were decidedly menial. Taking care of the doctor's horses, running errands, preparing and putting up medicines are samples of the duties falling upon him. On the other hand, his opportunities were often great. Such book- knowledge as he acquired was doubtless helpful, but the most important and directly valuable part of his education was obtained by precept and example of an old and experienced practitioner. He accompanied the doctor on his daily rounds, was introduced into the household of his patients, and thus had abundant intimate bedside instruction. Of equal importance to his future success was his chance to learn from an older, successful man the art of meeting people and tactful conduct in the sickroom. As Dr. Russell3 says: "The fortune of many a brilliant man has been marred by his ignorance of a pleasant entrance and by his want of a graceful departure." Not, to be sure, that a gracious manner was always characteristic of the noted men of those days. Quite the contrary, all too often a brusqueness of manner and a rude- ness of speech either natural or gradually acquired were characteristic of men of marked ability and large following. If backed by practical success and especially by a kind heart, such mannerisms were forgotten. On the other hand, then as now, such peculiarities, associated with a self-confident manner and an authoritative tone, often cloaked real mediocrity. Not only was the instruction practical and intimate, but it was also broad. The doctor until recently, and more especially in early days, was par excellence a general prac- titioner. His practice ran the gamut of all diseases and injuries, and he had to do his best with any condition that might arise. As a rule, also, he carried the responsibility alone, but in important cases consultations were not infre- quently resorted to. Furthermore, there were no apothecaries or drug stores, and he was obliged to prepare and dispense his own medicine. Besides the old familiar drugs, native herbs were also used to a considerable extent. His was also a family practice, and the close bond of doctor and patient was often unbroken for two or three generations.
Under such conditions the medical novice found his education. Not always was his lot a hard one. To the satisfaction of good work done and the sense of power born of his new knowledge and training, there were oftentimes added other amenities. The intimate relationship established between the doctor's family and the medical student in many instances ended in a romance as a result of which the young man later married one of his preceptor's daughters. Such were the conditions generally obtaining as regards the training of doctors down to the early nineteenth century. A survival of the old custom seen in the
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retention of preceptor in addition to the course in a regular medical school, did not die out entirely until the fourth quarter. It is worth while occasionally to attempt to visualize the life of an old-time practitioner, if only that we may contrast it with present-day conditions. Dr. Russell3 (p. 208-210) has given a good description, from which I quote :
"The doctor was usually a familiar in the household, and while he was the subject of criticism and gossip, was yet retained in service longer than at present. The opportunity for change was not convenient, and then, too, there was, I suspect, a stronger bond of union between patient and physician than generally prevails at this day; for the intercourse which was begun with the father was continued with the children, until death broke the bond which had united them so long.
"The physician who was in demand generally traveled long distances, and, consequently, was much away from home. Starting early in the morning, a tedious ride was before him, always on horseback in the early days, and it was quite unknown when he would return. The regular office hours of the modern doctor were altogether beyond his knowledge, and probably beyond his belief. He knew nothing of ease and leisure, but plodded on in his daily calling, his round of duty as tiresome and endless as that of the farmers' wives all over the country. He expected to find his dinners where time had conveniently placed him.
"The saddlebags of leather held precious drugs, which were carried about from day to day. When borne into the house, the opening must have excited the wonder of the children as much as the tin trunk of the peddler at a later period. A store of powders, pills, and tinctures, syrups, and electuaries, com- pounds under names not now known by us, roots and leaves, enabled him to prescribe freely, and probably effectually ; he carried with him a little of every- thing which was needed for immediate use."
The charges seemed very small, a shilling or even less per visit, with some increase due for mileage being the common fee down nearly or quite to 1800. After that, fifty cents was the usual charge. However, such a sum must be considered in relation to the purchasing power of money at the time, and relatively would not be as small as it looks at first sight. Medicines, however, seem to have been quite costly ; at least the charges for them represent a con- siderable part of the expense of medical attendance. Competition was not lacking. Besides the clergymen and school-masters who frequently attended the sick, there were midwives who had a large share of the obstetric practice, and also men who bled or pulled teeth. The universal prevalence of all sorts of superstitions is a characteristic of those early times which is familiar to all, but which may be mentioned as hampering the efforts of the clear-headed medical men and delaying medical progress.
Another outstanding feature of those times was the almost utter lack of sanitary knowledge and practice among all classes of people, and of course among the immigrants. The consequences of such ignorance had a profound influence upon the life of the colonists, which reached down to comparatively recent times. The early narratives and correspondence are full of references to the ravages of illness, especially epidemic diseases, and some of the most striking and interesting aspects of our early history have to do with such occurrences. The conditions under which the early immigrants crossed the
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ocean, by reason of overcrowding, poor and insufficient food, and the length of the voyage, not only led to great mortality on the passage, but so under- mined the health of those that survived as to leave them very ill prepared to contend with the hardships and rigorous conditions of the new country whither they were bound.
A striking instance is related by Packard' (p. 65) : "Upon a voyage to Virginia in 1618 by Francis Blackwell, there were one hundred and eighty of them crowded into a very small vessel. Disease broke out among them and proved fatal to Blackwell and the captain of the ship. By the time Virginia was reached, one hundred and thirty deaths had occurred on the vessel." As is well known, of the one hundred "Mayflower" pilgrims, just half died during the first winter, probably from scurvy. Such devastations were due largely to the debilitated condition brought about by the voyage, which made them an easy prey to infectious diseases, and moreover found them unable to resist the severe climatic conditions of the new land when associated with overcrowding combined with unsuitable and inadequate food.
The rudimentary knowledge of sanitary science was reflected in the very meager sanitary legislation of early times. Down to near the close of the 18th century such laws as were passed were occasioned usually by particular emergencies, and almost invariably were concerned with preventing the spread of small pox (vid. Lindsley").
Epidemic Diseases .- It goes without saying that the conditions just de- scribed were especially favorable to the invasion and spread of infectious diseases. From the beginning, it was such visitations that were especially dreaded. A few years before the Pilgrims landed, the Indians of the Massa- chusetts Bay region had been all but exterminated by an epidemic which has been diagnosed by some as small pox and by others as some form of infectious fever. Without doubt there were infectious diseases in New London county from the beginning, but the first reference known to me occurs in Thomas Minor's® diary, where, February 8th, 1657-58, he mentions a case of measles in his own family.
Rev. Simon Bradstreet," who was the second minister of the First Church of New London, records in his diary that July and August, 1670, were sickly in various places, mentioning "Lime and Stonington." The same diarist, after mentioning two deaths occurring in New London in 1683, says: "They both dyed of a malignant feaver wch was very severe thro: this Colony."
Of all the diseases to which the colonists were subject, the most dreaded, as is well known, was the small pox. The oft-quoted passage in Macaulay will bear repetition. Calling it "The most terrible of the ministers of death," he says: "The small pox was always present, filling the church yards with corpses, leaving in those whose lives it spared the hideous traces of its power, turning the babe into a changeling, at which the mother shuddered, and mak- ing the eyes and cheeks of the betrothed maiden objects of terror to the lover."
The first mention of the disease in New London county known to me, occurs in the diary of Manasseh Minor' of Stonington, where in 1689-90 he
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records several deaths from the small pox. It is probable that the same out- break affected New London at that time, as appears from Miss Caulkins" quotation from the court records: "June 1690. The Court adjourned to first Tuesday in August on account of the contagious distemper in town." The year 1700 marked the reappearance of small pox in Stonington, and Manasseh Minor mentions cases occurring in that town from time to time during that and the two following years, with at least five deaths caused by that disease. It was part of a very severe and widespread epidemic which reached its height in Boston in 1702.
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