Footprints of Famous Men: Designed as Incitements to Intellectual Industry

by John G. Edgar

Hunter now commenced his theological studies; and the sagacious sire rejoiced in the prospect of seeing his son “wagging his head in a pulpit.” But after a term of five years an obstacle to pursuing his course occurred, which could not be overcome without outraging his conscientious convictions. In fact, he entertained an insuperable repugnance to some of the articles of faith to which he was required to assent; and, sacrificing whatever prospects of preferment he had on the shrine of duty, he resolved to venture upon a new field, and make medicine and the art of healing the study and occupation of his life. He was still a boy, “showing a maiden chin,” without that wisdom which is commonly, but not seldom erroneously, supposed to lurk about the beard; and it can not be questioned but that hope would extravagantly gild any future that his fancy might conjure up. Yet, strongly as he might have felt within him the spirit and the faculty to ascend the hill of life, and wave his cocked hat in triumph from its summit, he could hardly contemplate such enviable success as it was his good fortune to seek and find. Little, it may be well conceived, could he foresee how rapidly he was to emerge from obscurity, and be recognized as one of the most celebrated votaries to a profession at once delicate and laborious in that illimitable city of which, at his father’s hearth, he had heard wondrous tales and accounts exciting curiosity.

Meantime, returning to his native district in 1737, he formed an intimacy with Dr. Cullen. This afterward celebrated man was a native of Hamilton. He had received an ordinary Scotch education, served an apprenticeship to an apothecary, and made several voyages in a vessel trading to the East Indies in the capacity of surgeon. He had commenced practice in a Lanarkshire parish, the clergyman of which had married Hunter’s sister; and at the manse of his brother-in-law doubtless our hero made Cullen’s acquaintance. The conversation of the latter exercised a mighty influence on the mind of his new friend; and when he had settled as a practitioner at Hamilton, a small town situated on the Clyde, Hunter entered into a sort of partnership with him. They even meditated it being of a permanent nature; but subsequent events rendered such a scheme altogether inexpedient, and it was abandoned with advantage to both. Nevertheless, it was pursued for years with mutual profit. Being equally and earnestly desirous of improvement, they agreed that each should pass a winter at one of the colleges, while the other should remain and attend to the patients who relied on the establishment for medical aid. Cullen’s seniority gave him the privilege of taking the first session; and so signal was his progress, that he was enabled to impart valuable information to his young associate. After a season, they parted in friendship, to divide the world between them; and while his former companion in arms was winning metropolitan honors and achieving innocent, though not bloodless victories, Cullen was by no means shrinking from the exertions which establish a reputation. Hunter seems to have disdained the company of a fair being to comfort and console him in his way through this troublesome world; but his northern friend and contemporary was not so remiss or self-denying. He forthwith strengthened his position by taking to wife the daughter of some neighboring worthy; but his abilities were not to be confined within narrow limits. He attracted the notice of men of pride and nobility—was patronized by the ducal houses of Hamilton and Argyle—filled professorial chairs in Glasgow and Edinburgh—influenced, in no inconsiderable degree, the opinion of medical men as to the science of physic—exhibited delightful amiability in private life; and, leaving behind several works to vindicate the high estimation in which he was held, he breathed his last in peace and prosperity. Having thus briefly sketched Cullen’s career, let us return to mark the footsteps of his redoubted countryman in pursuit of wealth and eminence.

Hunter went, in his turn, to the romantic capital of Scotland, and attended the lectures of several professors of distinction. In the year 1711 he set off to gratify his eyes with a sight of London, having obtained an introduction from a printer in Glasgow to James Douglas, who, as a surgeon and teacher of anatomy, had fattened in the rich South. This individual had early emigrated, but had not altogether lost his sentiments of nationality; and he had, perhaps, a keen eye to his own interests. Besides, he was a man of mark, and the author of several works of merit. He is spoken of by Pope and Harwood as an enthusiastic collector of the various editions of Horace, and eulogized by Haller for the art and ingenuity of his anatomical preparations. Doubtless at that date there were presented fewer letters recommending raw Scottish lads to the notice of their enriched countrymen, than when Wilkie charmingly depicted a similar ceremony. In any case, Douglas gave the young aspirant a gracious reception, and asked him to repeat his visit. Being engaged at the time with an elaborate treatise on the bones, he was anxious to enlist the services of some trustworthy youth as a dissector, and perceived that Hunter had the sense and acuteness requisite to qualify him for the situation. He therefore courteously invited our hero to live in his house, assist in his dissections, and superintend the education of his son.

When the curious and adulating Boswell had his cherished hopes crowned by an introduction, in the parlor of Tom Davies, to the great man whom he had long worshiped at a distance, and nervously blurted out, “I do indeed come from Scotland, but I can not help it,” Johnson said with truth. “That, sir, is what a great many of your countrymen can not help.” Such, however, was not the case with Hunter, who had sufficient influence to achieve a respectable position at home if he had wished. The offer of Douglas was, nevertheless, tempting. He requested time to consider it; and going to the house of a practitioner with whom he was staying in Pall Mall, he wrote to his partner and to his father on the subject. Cullen immediately approved of his accepting the post; but the laird, who was in his seventy-eighth year, and looked upon a journey to London as a most formidable affair, was already impatient for his son’s return, and was with no small difficulty prevailed on to give his consent. Matters were at length accommodated; and Hunter took up his quarters under the roof of Douglas as pupil and assistant, and entered vigorously upon his new duties.

This was, unquestionably, an auspicious commencement of his career; for his patron was high in his profession, a Fellow of the Royal Society, and Reader of Anatomy to the Company of Surgeons. Besides, public opinion was not yet violently excited against the inhabitants of the sterile north. The “silver-tongued Mansfield” had, it is true, ridden from Perthshire to Middlesex, “drunk champagne with the wits,” and distinguished himself at the bar; but he was not yet lord chief justice nor an English peer. Wedderburn had not yet crossed the Tweed to grasp successfully at the great seal. Lord Bute had still to be pulled out of the apothecary’s chariot at a cricket-match to play at whist with, and become the favorite of, Frederick Prince of Wales. On the other hand, Wilkes had not indulged in what Lord Chatham called “the expensive delights” of contested elections, nor in the profanity and licentiousness of Medenham Abbey. His services as embassador to Constantinople had to be declined, and “The North Briton” to be called into existence to avenge the slight. Poor, deluded Churchill, was sitting on the forms at Westminster with Lloyd, Cowper, and Warren Hastings. The time had to come when he could “blaze the comet of a season,” by applying such terms as “the poor, proud children of leprosy and hunger,” to the natives of an ancient and noble land, whose powers he did not comprehend, and whose achievements in art, science, law, letters, and commerce, he possessed not the prescience to divine. The events of 1745 had yet to fill the citizens of London with anger and apprehension; national animosity had still to be excited to madness by public appointments being almost exclusively bestowed on bare-legged Highlanders. Hunter was, in some respects, an adventurer, and one of whom his country had reason to be proud; but it was well that he arrived and struck his root in public favor before the frenzied cry had gone forth.

Douglas was not disappointed in the expectations he had formed of his assistant’s worth and ability, which he stimulated in various ways. He enabled him to enter as a dissecting pupil at St. George’s Hospital, and to attend a class for anatomy, besides a course of lectures on experimental philosophy, given by Dr. Desaguliers; and Hunter availed himself so earnestly of such advantages, and became so expert in dissection, that his excellent instructor was at the expense of having several of his preparations engraved. This aid, so well calculated to afford encouragement, was rendered just in time; for within twelve months after Hunter’s spirited expedition southward his employer died; and having apparently married past middle age, he left a widow and two children, with whom his talented protégé continued to reside for the next eight years.

In 1743, Hunter, ever aspiring and energetic, contributed a paper on the structure and diseases of the cartilages to the “Philosophical Transactions;” and, three years later, was appointed Lecturer to the Society of Naval Surgeons. For the first course he received seventy guineas, which was the largest sum ever in his possession up to that date, as he declared when carrying it to his lodgings, in a bag, under his cloak. But he had not yet learned prudence; and the amount was soon reduced to such dimensions, that he was reluctantly compelled to postpone the second course for a fortnight, from want of the money to pay for advertising them. This circumstance taught him, after a somewhat stern fashion, that in worldly affairs caution and economy are essential elements of success. In 1747 he became a Member of the College of Surgeons; and, next year, went to Leyden. There the anatomical preparations of Albinus inspired him with enthusiastic admiration, and he was fired with the worthy ambition of emulating their excellence. On returning to this country he commenced practice as a surgeon.

As a medical practitioner, with anxious and laborious duties in the widest of all fields—the metropolis of England—Hunter was conspicuously successful; and, in truth, there are few more responsible occupations. The person to whom is raised the vail which conceals the privacy of domestic life from the public eye, exercises no small influence on multitudes of his fellow-creatures. His aid is invoked to relieve bodily and mental suffering in seasons of distress and perplexity. Lives are confided to his skill, and the peace of families to his honor. To society, therefore, his character and conduct are matters of no inconsiderable interest. Hunter showed himself eminently, and in all respects, worthy of his position. He displayed remarkable tact in winning the confidence of his patients; and, even when he gave signs of being more than ordinarily doubtful of success in his efforts on their behalf, anxious friends and relatives placed implicit reliance on his tried skill and sagacious judgment. His merit and ability were speedily recognized by election to important offices in two hospitals, being recommended thereto by the most eminent surgeons of the day. His manner and personal appearance contributed much to his success, and he began to distance all competitors in the field which he gradually chose for the exercise of his skill and experience. In 1750 the degree of Doctor of Medicine was bestowed on him by the University of Glasgow; and in the summer of the next year he visited his native district, where time had wrought considerable changes among his relations.

His father had died shortly after consenting to his remaining in London; and his eldest brother had since followed. But his mother yet lived at Long Calderwood, of which he had become proprietor on his brother’s decease. Nor had romance altogether disdained to alight on the unpretending mansion and its homely grounds. A cabinet-maker, fresh from the regions of Cockaigne, had settled at Glasgow, and ventured to pay his addresses to one of the sisters. He was the reverse of disagreeable, and “Miss Jenny” was quite content to be his. Her relatives, indeed, conceived that a match would compromise their gentility, and protested against its being consummated; but this “penniless lass wi’ a lang pedigree” resolved, at all risks, to secure herself against the possibility of becoming an old maid, took the bit between her teeth, and insisted on having her own way. Then, questionless, preparations would be made for a gay wedding, and numerous guests would be bidden. Smugglers would supply foreign wine and brandy. The gun, the farmyard, and the pigeon-house, would furnish the table; friends and kinsfolk would congregate from all directions; damsels, with the prospect of a bridal ceremony and a dance, would willingly submit to the inconvenience of passing the preceding night six in a room; while men combining something of the haughty spirit of the Master of Ravenswood with a moiety of the pedantry displayed by the Baron of Bradwardine, would in hay-lofts luxuriate in such sleep as is not always vouchsafed to kings reclining under gilded canopies. Another event of greater importance had occurred. Hunter’s brother John, the youngest of the brood, after attempting to work for some time at his brother-in-law’s trade, despaired of success in that path of life, and returned home. He soon became tired of remaining idle, and joining Dr. Hunter in London, threw all the ardor and energy of his great mind into surgery, and ultimately arrived at the highest honors of his profession. He had been three years in the English metropolis, and won considerable reputation at the time of Dr. Hunter’s visit to Scotland. As for the latter, he was now full of hope and courage; and his engagements were such that he could only stay for a few weeks. But he gave instructions for repairing and improving the house of Long Calderwood, and for purchasing any adjoining lands that might happen to be offered for sale. One day, while riding in a flat part of the country with his old comrade, Cullen, the young Glasgow professor, pointing out to his former colleague his birth-place, said, “How conspicuous Long Calderwood appears to-day!”

“By St. Andrew!” exclaimed Hunter with unwonted energy, emphasis, and enthusiasm, “if I live I shall make it still more conspicuous!”