John Keats was born in a livery stable in 1795. In the school the study of Greek mythology and literature was his chief delight. At the age of fifteen he was orphaned, and his guardian apprenticed him to Mr. Hammond, the local surgeon. Keats worked for Mr. Hammond, holding his horse, assisting in the bleeding of patients and helping out generally until 1814, when he and Hammond quarreled. Then he went to London, where he studied in hospital schools, he soon received an appointment at Guy’s hospital and in a short time became a full-fledged surgeon. Those were the days before antiseptics, asepsis, or homeostasis. The patients who were operated upon cried out with terrific pain, the wounds became horribly infected, and often hemorrhage was uncontrollable. This sort of life was unbearable to a man who loved beauty and peace and hated all the ugly and unpleasant things of life. The last straw came in 1817 when Keats cut the temporal artery of one of his patients. He immediately abandoned surgery and embarked on his abbreviated literary career.
Keats published a volume of poetry in March of the same year, but the sales ceased in April.
Keats’ mother and his brother, Tom, died of consumption. Eight years later his own health failed, and with is medical knowledge, he believed his case to be hopeless. He was now ill poverty-stricken and hopelessly in love, but despite his troubles he wrote some of his best poems, including his “ode on a Grecian Urn”—“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” etc.
On February 3, 1820 he was found coughing and spitting in the sheets. “I now that blood,” he announced. “ It is arterial blood, I cannot be deceived in that color. That drop of blood is my death warrant.”
Helpless and slick, Keats was taken into the home of Leigh Hunt, who was also suffering from tuberculosis.
Later he was sent to Rome for a change of climate, where a Doctor Clark examined him and told him he had only a slight infection of the lungs. The doctor advised horseback riding and considerable exercise. Keats soon became severely sick and had several hemorrhages. In a letter to his friend Brown, he wrote “I can scarcely bid you good bye, even in a letter. I always made an awkward bow.” He said at this time, “If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me, nothing to make my friends proud f my memory, but I have loved the principle of beauty in all tings, and if I had time, I would have made myself remembered.”
Then he prepared his own epitaph: --
“Here lies one whose name was written on water.”
He died in February, 1921, at the age of twenty-five. The autopsy showed a very extensive chronic ulcerative pulmonary tuberculosis, which involved every part of both lungs.
The story of Keats’ life has been presented as an example of those who died of tuberculosis. The accomplishments of these people who worked under almost insuperable difficulties are truly remarkable and should prove an inspiration to us all. In order to accomplish much, they must work furiously, because their time is limited. Most of them die in early manhood. These people are never well. Their sleep is interrupted by night sweats and coughing, and in daytime the slightest exertion is followed by an abnormal amount of fatigue. They are always dead tired. Many of them are bed-ridden for long periods and their work is interrupted by hemorrhages or pneumothorax. Yet, the toxin seems to stimulate them to do great things.
You all know what Johann Schiller, who, like Keats, was a physician, accomplished. He was in and out of bed and in bad health until his death at forty. Sidney Lanier, who contracted tuberculosis in a prison camp during the Civil War, held out against the disease until he was thirty-nine. Frederick Chopin was a frail boy with a family history of tuberculosis. He himself developed the disease while living with his sister who was suffering from advanced tuberculosis. He was continually weak and racked by cough, however, when he sat down to play the piano, it is said that his exhaustion disappeared and he played as one inspired. Ill and without hope for the future, he managed to hold out until he was thirty-nine.
Rene Theodore Laennec, as you know, invented the stethoscope and differentiated such diseases as pleurisy, pneumonia and bronchitis, and described with great accuracy the sounds heard over the lungs in different forms of tuberculosis. He had tow attacks of cough, loss of weight, fever and pleurisy, but not until the attack did he recognize his illness as tuberculosis. He had a great dial of blood drawn form his veins, as was custom in those days. He grew weaker and weaker. It is indeed hard to imaging any treatment that could do more harm I tuberculosis than continued bleeding. At one time he predicted that he would live but eight days. During this time he finished the second edition of his book. During the last days of his illness, he insisted on riding out in a carriage twice daily. Laennec knew more about tuberculosis than any man who had lived up to that time; yet he failed to diagnose his own case until too late, exhausted his vitality by bleeding himself and rode around in carriages during the last days of his life, when he should have been in bed.
Fedor Dostoievesky, the great Russian novelist, suffered from both tuberculosis and epilepsy. Living in poverty, frequently suffering cold and hunger, and broken in health and spirit, he frequently gave way to great despair and bitterness. Too add to his troubles, he was put in prison for revolutionary propaganda. He was put u against a wall to be shot, but at the last minute the order was rescinded and he was sent to Siberia for four years. Dostoievsky continued t write furiously until his death at forty-five which was due to a hemorrhage. Under these difficulties, he became one of the world’s greatest novelists. His writings are known because of their marvelous fidelity to the principles of abnormal psychology, a science almost unknown in his day.
Others who have accomplished great things in spite of tuberculosis are Xavier Bichat, Elizabeth Browing, and Baruch Spinoza. Lesser lights and contemporaries whom you know are Edward Livingston Trudeau, Harold Bell Wright, Roger W. Babson, Albert Edward Wiggan, and Eugene O’Neill.
Our story opens with a little Italian boy of obscure parentage playing on the sands of Corsica. The boy grows up. He attends a military school; he becomes a lieutenant in the French army; he shows and unpreceded military genius; he becomes general; he conquers a goodly portion of the civilized world; he becomes the Emperor of the French- certainly a dizzy ascent. The descent, however, was none the less precipitous.
Next we see him at Rochfort, an Outlaw in his own land. He has been ordered to leave France within twenty-four hours. British cruisers in the harbor, however, block his escape. There is only one alternative. He throws himself on the mercy of the British who take him to Plymouth. When the prisoner comes on deck at Plymouth, the thousands, gathered to see him, uncover as one, certainly a touching tribute to a great fighter from the hearts of the British people. By order of the minister of war, Napoleon is sent to a volcanic island two thousand miles away. As the ship sails southward, Napoleon sees the blue shores of France for the last time.
Several of the Emperor’s staunch friends accompany him to the lonely island. A residence is prepared for him at Longwood, and he is allowed the freedom of the grounds for a radius of eight or ten miles. His health is now fairly good. If we take a look at his previous health, we will find that during the last ten or fifteen years he has had attacks of sever pain in the epigastrium. In 1805, according to Talleyrand, Napoleon was seized after dinner with a kind of fit and fell to the ground, jerking convulsively. Talleyrand loosened his collar, game him water to drink, and dashed a bottle of toilet water in his face. It is said that the Emperor jumped up and made a remark that was truly of the camp. Within a few minutes he was on his way to Austerlitz, indicating that his recovery was complete. This apparently is the episode that lead to the popular idea of Napoleon having epilepsy. Julius Caesar, St. Paul, and Mohammed have also been accused of having the falling sickness, but a through survey of the evidence at hand indicated that probably none of these men suffered from epilepsy. In this connection it might be stated that Napoleon’s pulse rate was usually observed to by around forty and was never, so far as we know, above fifty. In as much as he has never had symptoms of heart disease of any kind, it seems unlikely that the slow pulse was due to heart block. It seems highly improbably that he could carry a complete heart block over a period of ten to twenty years without having some symptoms of failure. So far as I know, no one has ever suggested the possibility of Napoleon’s fit being due to a Stokes-Adams attack. Napoleon also suffered from pain over the bladder, dypuria and frequency. It is also said that he had hemorrhoids, which were so sever at the Battle of Waterloo that he was unable to ride his horse. During the latter part of the Emperor’s life on the Continent, he showed frequent curious attacks of lethargy.
We now have the General (the title of Emperor has been taken away from him) a prisoner on the desolate island of St. Helena. Sir Hudson Lowe, Governor of the island, was replaced because he was thought to be too lenient. His successor and the General were enemies from the start.
Napoleon rides around the island; he writes; he plays chess and fights his battles all over again. The chief duty of his loyal followers is to listen. They all write memoirs and Napoleon speculates on what they will bring. The Emperor meditates, “No one but myself can be blamed for my fall. I have been my own gra5test enemy.” Then he goes over all his past mistakes. One of his mistakes is that he did not go to America.
The last year of his life now opens. When his birthday comes, he gives everyone presents and remarks that it will be his last. He loses strength, develops pain in the stomach, and rolls on the floor in agony crying, “Oh, mon pylore.” In his own words, the pain is “like the stab of a pen knife.” He has chills and fever. He does not care to get out and ride any more. His physician is now a Corsican, named Antommarchi, who was sent to the island at the request of Napoleon’s mother. Antommarchi thinks the paroxysms of pain are hysterical attacks. He says the there is really nothing wrong with the General, and each time gives him large doses of tartar emetic. The Emperor has no confidence in Antommarchi. When he wants him, the doctor is usually in Jamestown some miles away. When Napoleon is given tartar emetic, he thinks he is being poisoned. On one occasion he gives the dose to the unsuspecting Montholon, and when it reacts in the usual fashion his is sure that it is poison. Napoleon knows that he is dying. He says, “When I am dead*** I shall meet my brave warriors in the Elysian fields.” When he names his generals and says, “they will all come to meet me. They will talk of the deeds we did together. *** We shall talk of our battles to the Scipios, to Hannibal, Caesar, and Frederick.”
The Emperor becomes wasted. His face is pale and his cheeks are sunken. He has hallucinations. He announces, “I am weak. There is not much time left,” and he proceeds to distribute articles lying about the room among his associates. He scratches the letter “n” on his snuff box and gives it to the doctor, saying, “I expressly demand that a postmortem shall be made, and in special that the stomach shall be examined. I believe that I am dying of the same illness as my father (his father died of carcinoma of the stomach.) ask Louis to send you the report about that and compare it with what you find at the autopsy. Then you may at least be able to spare my son this horrible illness. Tell him how he can guard against it and how he can be saved from the dread of it which so afflicted me.”
He goes into a last delirium, muttering “France-----army-----Head of the army-------Josephine.” He goes into a stupor, his eyes become glassy, there is a rattle in his throat and the great General is dead.
Five English surgeons were present when Antommarchi performed the autopsy. The subcutaneous fat was well preserved. It was noted that he had small hands and feet, wide hips and narrow shoulders, and small atrophied reproductive organs. When the abdomen was opened there was found a large, china infiltrating mass in the pyloric end of the stomach which had perforated and was adherent to the liver. Antommarchi put his finger through the hole. Everyone who was present at the autopsy and says the tumor was positive that it was a carcinoma. It seems to me that with in a long history of gastric pain and with the subcutaneous fat so well preserved and with such an unusual amount of pain just preceding his death that a penetrating ulcer must be considered. Unfortunately, the tumor is not preserved. Some of the intestines, however, were given by O’Meara, who was present at the autopsy, to Sir Astley Cooper, who in turn deposited them in the British museum. Leichman, the renowned pathologist, has recently studied them and suggests that the small, bright red spots in the mucosa, which were described at the autopsy, were possibly due to Malta fever. It was thought that6 Napoleon might have contracted this at Alba, where the disease was endemic. With the evidence at hand, one cannot, of course, make this diagnosis with any high degree of probability. When the bladder was opened at the postmortem examination, it was found to contain gravel and a number of definite stones.
The body was embalmed and buried on the island of St.Helena. A British sentry stood guard over the grave for nineteen years, at the end of which time the body was carried to Paris. The body was found at this time to be well preserved, and it was noted that the nail and hair had grown considerably.
Napoleon’s friends returned to Europe and published their memoirs. The governor of the island who had been so cruel was publicly horsewhipped in London, and the minister who had been responsible for the imprisonment of napoleon at St.Helena killed himself.
The First Tzar
Ivan the Terrible
About the time of the discovery of America the vast expanse of Russia was ruled by mongrels with here and there a prince with some local authority. Ivan III, his son, Basil, and his grandson Ivan VI, consolidated the small moribund states and created the autocratic tzardom of Mucovy. Our story begins with Ivan VI, the first Russian ruler to take the title of Tzar. Ivan’s father and grandfather were more or less competent men with a reasonable amount of intelligence. One of his brothers was an imbecile. Ivan was only three when his father died and seven when his mother died. The boy grew up in a brutal and degrading environment. He was precodius and had a neurotic strain in his character. He grew up to have a terrible hatred for the nobler that persecuted him continually and hatched all manner of plots against him. At the age of thirteen, divan called the nobles together, reproached them for their plots and threw one of them among a hungry pack of hounds to be town to pieces.
At seventeen, he had himself officially given the title of Tzar, which, as you know, is a contraction of Caesar. A month later he called together from all parts of Russia several thousand virgins. After inspection them thoroughly, he selected Anastasia, a scion of the noble family of Romanov.
At twenty he summoned a national assembly and confessed all of the sins of his youth, which were many, and promised t govern justly and mercifully. His promise was kept for ten years, during which time he proved himself to be a man of great natural ability and extraordinary political insight. During this time he arranged trade treaties with England and consolidated and strengthened his own country.
At the end of the ten-year period of Russian prosperity, Ivan suffered a relapse; Anastasia, his wife, died; and Ivan became remorse and ill tempered. He lost weight, his skin became yellow and his hair fell out. He developed various sorts of phobias. He thought that every man’s hand was against him and in an attack of uncontrollable fear he fled from Moscow and addressed a letter of abdication to the people. The panic-stricken people begged their protector to remain on the throne. There followed a period of unbelievable terror. Someone accused the authorities of Novgorod of conspiracy. Ivan marched against Novgorod, which was the second greatest city of his own land, and for weeks burned and pillaged and murdered. Large batches of population were dispatched daily. Before his fury died down he had devastated the surrounding country for many miles. Not even the cattle were allowed to live. Saltus states, “Every day for a month, thousands were dispatched. Some were ordered to scaffolds, to cauldrons, to the river where they were thrown wholesale. Some were hacked to pieces. Others were hacked and then boiled. In the river, children were tied to their mothers; guards, armed with pikes rammed among them, shoved them down. The guards executioners wearied, Ivan never.”
The mental and physical deterioration continued. All methods of persecution were developed. It is said that there were saws to cut you n two, pincers to pull your tongue out, that the skin was removed form the body in order that the flogging would be more painful. Limbs were amputated and fed to the hounds in from t of the victims. Others were put in sacks and trampled by horses or put in cages and burned alive.
Ivan had seven wives. He killed only three of them. An architect erected a church that was not pleasing to His Majesty. The architect’s eyes were torn out that he might never build another like it. One day Ivan’s favorite son, Tzarovitch, asked permission to go and fight the Poles. Ivan, taking this to be criticism, grabbed a staff and struck him dead. He tickled a little boy while passing. When the boy laughed, he thrust his sword down his throat. One historian in describing these episodes, stated, that he thought Ivan was nervous.
Ivan read his Bible daily, went to church regularly, and in every way was a model Christian. His victims were prayed for in masse. In the monastery of St. Cyril is preserved a list of those dispatched in a single sitting, totaling 3,470, for whom he requested prayer.
At the age of fifty-four, while playing chess, he fell backward and died in a very short time. Prelates in announcing Ivan’s death issued a proclamation that he had become an angel. One wonders why he could not have done better.
In studying the psychology of these Russians, we must make due allowance for the environment in which they lived. Mongrel tribes overran Russian. Murder and robbery ad rape were looked upon in about the same light as we today would look upon driving without taillights. We must give the Tzar credit for a long period of competent and just rule. The period of terror began with ill health, which was characterized by falling hair, some sort of trouble of the skin, and extensive loss of weight. This condition was probably due to syphilis, which was rampant in Europe at that time. His mental condition cannot be described as general paresis, because he could not have lived to long with that disease. It also seems unlikely that it was due to meningovascular syphilis.
This painting, the reproduction of which I am passing around, shows the Tzar just after he had struck his son down and portrays the terrible remorse, which he suffered. He appears to be eighty years old. His actual age is only fifty. His hair is scanty, his eyes are sunken, and his cheekbones are prominent. He died a mental, moral and physical degenerate.
Nicholar II (1868-1918), eldest son of Alexander III and the German descent, became tzar in the year of the writer’s birth, 1894. in the same month Nicholas married Princess Alix of Hesse, a granddaughter of Queen Victoria. The Tzar evidently was not a student of eugenics, because the Princess Alix carried the hereditary disease of Hemophilia in her germ plasm. Hemophilia, as you know, occurs only in the germ plasm of females, both in the germ plasm and somatoplasm of males. In other words, males have the disease; females only transmit it.
As you festival of the Tzar’s coronation, three thousand people were crushed to death because of the negligence of the officials, and during the exercises the imperial chain fell form his breast to the ground. These incidents were to the superstitious Tzar forebodings of impending evil and inspired him with a sort of mystic resignation. One cannot help but wonder if a man who believes in ghosts is suitable as a leader of nearly two hundred million people during times of great crisis.
All manner of unbalanced men and women had a hypnotic influence over the high strung and hysterical empress, who in turn had the same sort of influence over the Tzar. As a result, such ignorant characters as Rasputin had more to do with the destinies of the empire than the monarch himself.
In the condition, we might say something about Gregory Rasputin (1871-1916). For thirty-three years, Gregory was a poor, ignorant, vermin-infected Siberian peasant who was given the name of Pasputin meaning “debauchee,” because of continued disorderly behavior. Until the end of his life, he was not able to write properly. In 1904 he was seized with religious exaltation, declared himself inspired by God, and wandered form place to place preaching that salvation could be achieved only by repentance. He taught that the greater sin, the greater would be the forgiveness. In his own words, “Only through me you can hope to be saved; and the manner of your salvation is this; you must unite with me in soul and body. The virtue that goes out form me is the source of life, the destruction of Sin.” This is an embellished translation by Dillon. It is highly improbable that Rasputin could express himself so well. This dangerous teaching resulted in the wildest of orgies. In 1907, while in St. Petersburg, Rasputin was introduced to the court, and immediately made a lasting impression on the Emperor and Empress. Thereafter he became a fixture at the court ladies and the Empress herself. On one occasion the governess of the Tzar’s daughters complained to the father that Rasputin visited the girls in their rooms at night. This, no doubt, played a part in his death.
Prince Yussupoff and two others of high social position decided to rid Russia of this vile parasite. Consequently, on December 15, 1916, Rasputin was invited to the prince’s palace. The prince and his confederates game him a large dose of potassium cyanide in wine and waited patiently for demise. The drank deliberally of his host’s wine, became gay and seemed to feel better as the night proceeded. After waiting nervously for several hours and seeing no effect from the cyanide, the hospitable host shot him and threw his body under the ice of the canal. Prince Yussopoff has written a book about Rasputin describing these episodes in detail.
The Empress was prostrated with grief. She had the body fished out and buried near the palace in order he might visit the grave frequently.
During this time Nicholas and his wife were greatly worried over the health of their son, the Tzarovitch Alexis, who developed periodically swollen and painful joints and extravasations of blood under the skin. This was, of course, due to hemophilia.
You are all familiar with the part played in Russia in the world war. You have seen the newsreels of the Emperor with all the royal trappings. Such a film was shown in Louisville only a few weeks ago. You are also familiar with the exile of Derensky of Nicholas, his wife, four daughters, and only son to Siberia after the first outbreak of the revolution in the spring of 1917. The fate of the Tzar remained a mystery for several years. Now, thanks to an exhaustive investigation by Judge Sokolov, we are able to write the last chapter in the life of the unfortunate royal family. Kerensky has stated that he sent Nicholas and his family to Siberia to remove them form the dangers of the revolution. One attempt to kidnap and imprison them had already been made. The actual reason for their exile may have been to make the Tzar of all the Russians taste of the bitterness and loneliness of that dreary land to which he had sent so many of his countrymen.
The train, which was to take the party northward, was twelve hours late, and the Emperor sat patiently in the station all night. During the journey, the birthplace f Rasputin was passed, and his house pointed out to the Empress. The royal family arrived at Tobolsk and lived there in comparative comfort until the second revolution, when the Soviet authorities changed their guards. Coffee, cream, butter, and sugar were removed form the table of the prisoners. The snow mountain, which had been bu8ilt by the combined efforts of the entire family, was torn down. The guards became rude, and insulting inscriptions appeared on the walls.
Suddenly a curious thing happened. An intelligent, well-bred man by the name of Jakolev, with one hundred and fifty horsemen, appeared suddenly on the scene. The Emperor, Empress, and their daughter, Marie, were rushed southward. Jakolev appeared to be trying to get them out of Russia. The exact destination was never known. The party traveled madly through Russia, first this way and then that, sometimes on the train and sometimes on horseback, but was finally captured at Ekaterinburg by the Red soldiers. Some think that jakolev represented the German government and was trying to get the Tzar into that country. Certain statements in Ludendorff’s memoirs strengthen this view.
The party was installed in the Ipatiev house in Ekaterinburg and the other four children joined them there. Life here became more and more humiliating. The royal family ate with the domestics; the guards; and all sorts of the sketches depiction the Empress and Rasputin in amorous scenes appeared on the walls continually insulted the girls.
In July 1918, there were many ominous happenings. The Judge Jakolev brought out all the following facts in the investigation. A new commandant, Jerovsky, appeared on the scene. On the 15th, for scrubwomen entered the Ipatiev house and later testified that the entire family was alive at that time. The same day Jurovsky bought fifty eggs. On the next day, July 16th, five motor trucks, two barrels of benzine and several jugs of concent5ated sulfuric acid were requisitioned and order to be at the Ipatiev house at midnight. These facts were obtained form the official receipts and requisitions.
Shortly after midnight on July 17th, 1918, Jurovsky knocked at the doors of the various members of the family and bade them dress, explaining that Kolchak’s troops were approaching and that the town much be evacuated at once. The women put on their especially prepared clothes into which had been sewn a large number of jewels and half million dollars in currency. These rubles were probably not worth a great deal in the country they were shortly to visit. The following filed down the stairs and into a small room in the basement:
(1) Nicholas Romanov, age fifty-five, carrying in his arms the Tzarovitch Alexis, fourteen years old and heir throne.
(2) Alexandra, forty –six years old, late Empress granddaughter of Queen Victoria.
(3) Four daughters: Olga, twenty-three, Tatiana, twenty-one, Marie, nineteen, Anastasia, seventeen.
There were also Doctor Botkin, physician to the royal family, a chamber maid, cook and footman.
The party filed into a small room. Nicholas asked that chairs be brought for the ladies, which was done, the little parts waited patiently in their traveling clothes. Twelve soldiers were standing a foot or two away against the opposite wall. Jurovsky explained that he was obliged to kill them. The Ex-Tzar asked, “What do you mean?” “This is what I mean,” cried Jurovsky, firing point-blank at the Emperor. The soldiers, loosening all the pent up hatred of centuries, fired furiously into the party. Alexis, the Tzarovitch was not killed outright, but moaned and writhed over the bodies of his parents. Jurovsky finally dispatched him with his revolver. Tow or three of the girls who still breathed, were bayoneted. Sulfuric acid was poured over the faces of the victims to prevent subsequent identification. One of the executioners and sentries who watched the proceedings through the windows testified at the investigation.
Twelve miles away in a wood a bonfire was observed early the next morning and throughout most of the day. There was later found at this spot a pit containing ashes, a malters ecross set with emeralds, six sets of corset staves, corresponding to the six female victims, a collection of buckles, hooks and eyes, beads and a number of dirty pebbles which after chemical treatment proved to be large diamonds. There was also found a number of eggshells, which represented the remains of the lunch provided by Jurovsky for the executioners. A set of artificial teeth identified by a dentist as those of Doctor Botkin was found. Another ghastly finding was a long, slender, well-shaped finger probably cut form the Empress’ hand to get a ring.
This pathetic collection of ashes and bones and corset staves, representing the last of the Romanovs, was put in a trunk and has been traced as far as Harbin. There the royal family was lost sight of.
The responsibility of the execution of Nicholas and his family has been place squarely on the shoulders of the Soviet authorities in Moscow. Only one telegram was sent from Edaterinburg to Moscow on the day following the crime. This was written in code, and for more than two years defied the best cipher experts in Europe. When finally deciphered, it read:
“To Moscow, Kremlin, for Gorbounov, Secretary of council of Peoples’ Comissars.
Please confirm receipt.
Tell Sverdlov that the entire family has met the same fate as its head. Officially they will perish during the evacuation.
You have no doubt read that a girl appeared in Germany several years later claiming to be Anastasia, the youngest daughter of the Tzar, and to have escaped from Ekaterinburg. She is now in New York and is trying to get the courts to award her some of her father’s property. Similarly, a young man in Poland claims to be Alexis. He says that another boy was substituted for himself at the last moment another night of the execution. This boy even has hemophilia.
We had prepared material for a chapter on “Great Americans” and another on “Famous Women,” but unfortunately for lack of time we will be compelled to omit both. I cannot refrain, however, form saying a word about that great American Brigham Young, who is unsurpassed as a husband and father. We are passing around photographs of twenty of his twenty-seven wives. He is said to have been a great connoisseur of women but he must have picked these blindfolded. In 1825, when Brigham was twenty-four, his first child was born. His second came five years later. Soon after her professed Mormonism, however, there was acceleration in the working of his reproductive apparatus. In 1849 a daughter was born in January, another in March, and a third in July, and a fourth and fifth in December. Five children were also born in 1850. Brigham became a father in January, February, March, and April 1851, and in 1852 children was born in March, April, and may. During the years of 1857 and 1859 business apparently took a slump, only one birth being recorded. Brigham was having trouble with the United States Government, and apparently took his mind form the important business at hand. In 1861, when he was sixty years old, two daughters were born to different wives on the same day. When he was sixty-two, his wives gave birth to three children in one month. Brigham’s last daughter was born when he was nearly sixty-nine years old. In all, he beget fifty-seven children, which is certainly no mean achievement. When Brigham Young was seventy-six, he died from what was thought to be an attack of choleral morbus, which was said to have been brought on by eating green corn and peaches. He left an estate of several million dollars.
Another America we intended to mention was Mary Baker Eddy. Mrs. Eddy was just a plain ordinary New England woman until past middle age. She had tried several husbands without success and was now adrift and poor. She took care of herself by boarding around in various households and begun practicing the “faith cure.” On several occasions he got into trouble when men showed more faith in the healer than the wives thought necessary. He prosperity began with the publishing of “Science and Health” in 1875. Mrs. Eddy certainly testified to the efficacy of her faith by her own longevity. She had entered her ninety-year when pneumonia brought her career to an end. Her estate totaled three million five thousand dollars.
If time allowed, we would like to say a word about the great American, John L. Sullivan, who was defe4ated by James J. Corbett because his future can down during the fight; about Christopher Mathewson’s courageous, but losing fight against tuberculosis; and about other famous Americans.
In our chapter on women, we had hoped to say something about Catherine the Great and her lovers; Catherine de Medici, who was the wife of one French king and the mother of three; Catherine of Aragon and her many miscarriages; Anne Bolyen and poor Mary Stuart, who were beheaded; Anne of Cleves, who was declared not virgo intacta by Henry VIII several days after he had married her; Queen Elizabeth and her alleged physical malformation; Joan of Arc, who was a sexual neurasthenic; ad Cleopatra, who committed suicide.
It has also been necessary to omit Frederick the Great and the late Kaiser Wilhelm, Darwin, who suffered from gastric neurosis, and Nietzsche, who died insane, but did not have general paresis.