The bright yellow chariot of Dr. Benjamin Rush was universally known in Philadelphia, and its environs; and his peculiar features are not likely to escape from the memory of any man, who ever beheld them. These striking points were seized, by that arch villain, Cobbett, when he published his pictured libel, representing that eminent physician, looking out of his chariot window, with a label, proceeding from his mouth—Bleed and purge all Kensington! Upon Cobbett’s trial for this libel, Dr. Rush swore, that, by making him ridiculous, it had seriously affected his practice.
Dr. James Lloyd was easily discovered, by his large bay horse—take him for all in all—the finest harness gelding of his day, in Boston. With the eyes of a Swedenborgian, I see the good, old doctor now; and I hear the tramp of those highly polished, white topped boots; and I almost feel the lash of his horsewhip, around my boyish legs, rather too harshly administered, for mild practice however—but he was an able physician, and a gentleman—factus ad unguem. His remarkable courtliness of manner, arose, doubtless, in some degree, from his relation to the nobility. During the siege, General Howe and Lord Percy were his intimate friends; the latter was his tenant in 1775, occupying the Vassal estate, for which Dr. Lloyd was the agent, and which afterwards became the residence of the late Gardner Greene.
Dr. Danforth, who resided, in 1789, near the residence of Dr. Lloyd, on Pemberton’s Hill, nearly opposite Concert Hall, and, subsequently, in Green Street, might be recognized, by the broad top of his chaise, and the unvarying moderation of the pace, at which he drove. He was tall and thin. His features were perfectly Brunonian. There seemed to be nothing antiphlogistic about him. When pleased, he was very gentlemanly, in his manner and carriage. He ever placed himself, with remarkable exactitude, in the very centre of his vehicle, bolt upright; and, with his stern expression, wrinkled features, remarkably aquiline nose, prominent chin, and broad-brimmed hat, appeared, even some fifty years ago, like a remnant of a by-gone age. He had been a royalist. His manners were occasionally rough and overbearing.
I remember to have told my mother, when a boy, that I should not like to take Dr. Danforth’s physic. The character of his practice is, doubtless, well remembered, by those, who have taken his divers, as they were called, and lived to tell of it. The late Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse being interrogated, by some aged spinsters, as to the difference, between the practice of Dr. Danforth and his opponents, replied, that there were two ways of putting a disordered clock in tolerable condition—the first, by taking it apart, cleaning its various members of their dust and dirt, applying a little oil to the pivots, and attaching no other than its former weight; “and then,” said he, “it will go very well, for a considerable time; and this we call the anti-Brunonian system.”
The second method he described, as follows: “You are to take no pains about examining the parts; let the dust and dirt remain, by all means; apply no oil to the pivots; but hitch on three or four times the original weight, and you will be able to drag it along, after a fashion; and this is the Brunonian system.” In this, the reader will recognize one of the pleasantries of Dr. Waterhouse, rather than an impartial illustration.
Dr. Isaac Rand, the son of Dr. Isaac Rand, of Charlestown, lived, in 1789, some sixty years ago, in Middle Street, just below Cross: in after years, he resided, till his death, in 1822, in Atkinson Street. He was a pupil of Dr. Lloyd. His liberalities to the poor became a proverb. The chaise, in which he practised, in his latter days, was a notable object. The width of it, though not equal to that of Solomon’s temple, was several cubits. It became the property of the late Sheriff Badlam, who filled it to admiration. The mantle of Elijah was not a closer fit, upon the shoulders of Elisha.
Dr. Rand was an able physician, and a truly good man. He made rather a more liberal use of the learned terms of his profession, than was the practice of other physicians. With him, this arose from habit, and a desire to speak with accuracy, and not from affectation. Charles Austin was shot dead, in State Street, by Thomas O. Selfridge, August 4, 1806, in self-defence. Dr. Rand was a witness, at the trial; and his long and learned, professional terms, so completely confounded the stenographers, that they were obliged to beat the chamade, and humbly beg for plainer English.
I have more to say of these interesting matters, but am too near the boundary wall of my paper, to enter upon their consideration, at present.