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Dr. Francis Tumblety: A Sketch of the Life of the Gifted, Eccentric and World-Famed Physician
Francis Tumblety New York, 1889









Professional Successes and Personal Intimacies with Renowned

Personages of Two Hemispheres,


















Extracts of Letters written from abroad to friends at home, with Per-

sonal notices and effusions from the Canadian, New York,

Washington, St. Louis and San Francisco Papers.

Reminiscences of Foreign Travel.

















     It has been said that the man without the capacity of wonder resembles a dull pair of spectacles behind which there are no eyes.  The bitter persecution, venomous assaults and the impudent curiosity which, when balked, becomes malevolent, aimed at the writer from the reptile section of the public press, justify the assumption that the authors of such attacks can only be likened to serpents and similar crawling nuisances.  These unjust and infamous slanders, amazing in their frequency and absolute lack of foundation, have almost deprived me of the wonder capacity.  But far from reducing me to the other miserable level, such rascally endeavors to subvert an honest reputation have only filled my mind with contempt.  I have been too much engrossed with larger themes than matter of mere personal discussion to justify myself from malignant and, I trust, palpably mendacious newspaper assaults.  Yet, absurd and farcical as these are in one sense, as slightly as they appear in general to intelligent readers, it may be that there are some who have been influenced by their iteration and the fact that their victim has remained silent.  At the urgent request of friends, therefore, I hence concluded to offer the best refutation of them, the testimony of an honest, upright and useful life, which has been cordially recognized by eminent personages in this and other lands alike in its social and professional relations.

     In the pursuit of the healing art I have striven assiduously to extend investigation into that special branch of the material medica which I have practiced so successfully, and which research and common sense unite in pronouncing the sole trustworthy arsenal whence the weapons of true therapeutics are drawn.  My studies have extended to various countries and climates, and I have had the satisfaction of knowing—the noblest return that can satisfy honest effort—that my researches in the ambition to benefit my fellow-men have not been fruitless, and certainly not unrecognized by those who ability, rank and integrity have placed them among the leading spirits of their time.

     In writing this pamphlet, which, of course, has compelled me to enter into many personal details, I utterly disclaim any petty vanity or egotism.  It is not merely to tell the public that my life has been a somewhat notable one, or distinguished by the intimacy of many eminent personages, or dedicated to the accomplishment of a great medical reform.  Were this my only end I should be, indeed, an object of ridicule.  But my reputation as a man has been blackened by hideous malice.  I need not quote the hackneyed but powerful lines of Shakespeare in this connection: “He who steals my purse steals trash,” etc., to justify my action in defending my reputation, which is dearer to me than all else that earth can give.  I have chosen to do this by a plain, unvarnished detail of the leading events of my life, a life entirely inconsistent with the foul indictment which has been hurled against my innocent head without warning or shadow of cause.  I leave the matter to the honorable and fair-minded public, confident that there can be but one verdict.  To my assailants, one and all, I leave my contempt, proud in the consciousness of my own integrity; and to each one of them I answer in the words of one of the most noted victims of Junius’s attacks to that savage and bitter writer:


“Cease, viper, you bite against a file.”


     Prejudice, that bigoted monster of the past, though still exerting his evil forces, is gradually losing its vitality in matters of science.  No better example of this can be cited than the late history of the medical art.  Nature, as represented by the more progressive physician, is asserting her supremacy over the ignorant usages and superstitions of a bygone age.  Her life-giving remedies are almost infallible, though simple, and to the student the expanding horizon of her beneficent kingdom is as extensive as the ocean.

     In faithfully observing her laws and embodying her teachings, so far as my professional practice has been at stake, my consistency has never swerved.  That the success of my efforts has been commensurate the documentary evidence of the following pages will amply testify.  With these proofs of an upright and honorable career and of successes, which have been worthily and, I trust, modestly worn, I have the honor to subscribe myself the public’s obedient servant,


















1870 and 1871—versus THE PRUSSIAN ARMIES.



     The Director of the Ambulance of Brittany, established at the RUE DU QUATRE SEPTEMBRE, 14 No., presents to Monsieur Tumblety (Francis), M. D., the Brittany Cross, insignia of the act, as well as the DIPLOMA, in remembrance of the kind concourse and devoted services that he rendered in the qualification of Doctor during the war.


Paris, the 29th Jan., 1872.


Chevalier, Commandant of the Ambulance of



Seen and approved,


     (Signed), P. HERVE DU LORIN,


21, Rue d’Arcole, 21,








A Statement of My Position.








     I think it is but proper that I should give a brief glance at the more salient features of the theories and views which have inspired my practice of the medical profession, before entering on matters merely personal, or, in other words, the facts of my professional career, extending over a period of more than thirty years.  The lesson to be drawn from this experience, as it may indeed be deduced from lives of other sincere reformers, is that calumny is but too often the payment of original thinking; and that the rebel from the yoke of tradition who dares to pursue original research and apply his discoveries, must fortify his soul with dauntless patience and courage.

     At the beginning of my professional career I recognized this broad principle, that a system is necessary to the successful practice of the medical science, and that a system should consist of just, logical deductions, drawn from familiar, known, indubitable, and undoubted facts.  Instead of this, all or most of our systems are either false conclusions from mere imaginary whims, begged principles, or mere suppositions—or even false conclusions from erroneous principles.  Many systematizers pretend to build upon facts, but their facts are pressed and whipped into their service.  The doctor first spins his system out of the cobweb of his fancy, and afterward squeezes some facts into forms resembling proofs of it, and very honestly shuts his eyes against all such facts as are at variance with his beloved air castle.  He creates distinctions, when in nature all is whole, and forges classifications, when in nature all swim together.  Thus Boerhaave, Cullen, Brown, Darwin, Staehl, were all blind leaders of the blind; and the young physician who thinks he has in his notes and books a remedy for every disease, when he comes to the sick bed finds all a chaos; no rule will apply.  He looks in vain for the vaunted effects of his cure—all nostrums; forsakes in disgust a practice which may lead him to manslaughter, or from experience chalks himself out some dictionary; this is good for that, or that is good for this, and becomes a quack—for practice without system is the very definition of quackery.

     I offer to the public a new system of science, which I have formed conscientiously clear of all the impediments I have enumerated, and which is confirmed in its salutary effects by the experience of a lifetime.

     We know, from what we see and feel, that the animal body is, in its organs and functions, subject to derangement, inducing pain and tending to its distraction.  In this disordered state we observe nature providing for the re-establishment of order by exciting some salutary evacuation of the morbific matter, or by some other operation which escapes our imperfect senses and researches.  She brings on a crisis by stools, vomiting, sweat, urine, expectoration, etc., which for the most part ends in the restoration of healthy action.  Experience has taught us, also, that there are certain substances by which, applied to the living body internally or externally, we can at will produce the same evacuations, and thus do in a short time what nature would do but slowly, and do effectually what perhaps she would not have strength to accomplish.  Where, then, we have seen a disease characterized by specific signs or phenomena, and relieved by a certain natural evacuation or process, whenever that disease occurs under the same appearances, we may reasonably count on producing a solution of it by the use of such substances as we have found by experience produce the same evacuation or movement.  Thus, fullness of the stomach we can relieve by emetics; diseases of the bowels by purgatives, etc., etc.  Here, then, the judicious, the moral, the human physician should stop.

     But the adventurous physician goes on and substitutes presumption for knowledge.  From the scanty field of what is known he launches into the boundless regions of what is unknown.  He establishes for his guide some fanciful theory of corpuscular attraction, of chemical agency, of mechanical powers, of stimuli, or irritability, accumulated or exhausted, of depletion by the lancet and repletion by mercury, or some other ingenious dream which lets him into all nature’s secrets at short hand.  On the principle which he thus assumes he forms his table of nosology, arrays his diseases into families, and extends his curative treatment (says he) by analogy to all he has thus arbitrarily marshaled together.

     I have lived myself to see the disciples of Hoffman, Boerhaave, Staehl, Cullen and Brown succeed one another like the shifting figures of the magic lantern, and their fancies, like the dresses of the annual doll babies from Paris, becoming from their novelty the vogue of the day, and yielding to the next novelty their ephemeral favors.  The patient, treated on the fashionable theory, sometimes gets well in spite of the medicine.  The medicine, therefore, restored him, and the young doctor receives new courage to proceed in his bold experiments on the lives of his fellow-creatures.

     I believe we may safely affirm that the inexperienced and presumptuous band of medical tyros let loose upon the world destroys more human life in one year than all the Robin Hoods, Cortouches and Macheaths do in a century.

     It is on this part of medicine I wish to see a reform—an abandonment of hypothesis for sober facts—the first degree of value on clinical observation, and the lowest on visionary theories.

     There is no science that has so much needed reform as the science of medicine, for it is a science in which the happiness of mankind is more closely woven than any other.  All reformers have to struggle with prejudice and superstition, but none so much as the hardy individual who dares to attack the quackery and humbug of the old-time medical practitioner.  The world needs to go through a process of purification, in order to make it what it ought to be, and I shall always feel proud to lend a helping hand to carry on the noble enterprise.  But as it is impossible to do everything at once, those which stand out most prominently deserve our immediate attention; and upon such should be unhesitatingly directed the weapons of reform.

     Among these conspicuous evils there is one on which I have bestowed no little consideration.  It is the present practice of medicine.  Medical reform—that is the question.  It is in the common, or regular system of practice, so-called, that I desire to see a thorough radical reform.  If I could be fully persuaded in my own mind that the use of poisonous mineral ingredients, such as mercury, antimony, arsenic and the like, are safe, sure and efficacious remedies, and did not produce effects deleterious to the human constitution; if I were assured that there were no substitutes to be found in Nature’s extensive vegetable dispensary more admirably adapted to the nature of disease, and which could not cure without making the last state worse than the first, I certainly would abandon my idea of a reform, and cheerfully submit to the present system, and risk my life and health altogether upon its own merits.

     But while I am fully convinced from observation and experience that the regular practice of medicine is absolutely imperfect and highly dangerous; and while I am satisfied that the vegetable system of practice, which is now extending itself rapidly over the western portion of our country, is eminently superior to every other with which our land is super-abundantly stocked, I cannot too anxiously desire a reform.  It is on this subject that I wish the people to be aroused to proper and honorable action.

     It is time that this apathy and indifference, which has existed in the minds of the mass of the people on the subject of medicine, and which is totally at variance with its great importance, should be totally removed; for there is surely no art or science of so much consequence to their well-being as that which has for its object the preservation of health and the cure of disease.

     As there are but few tried, faithful, sterling advocates (comparatively speaking) of the vegetable system of practice in this country, it may seem presumptuous to undertake so great an enterprise, while a powerful monopoly, propped up by public opinion, hemmed in by constitutional barriers, combining genius and wit, learning and talent, are bending all their mighty energies against us.  But I hope that an intelligent people will not be daunted by this; for the more the reformed practice becomes known, the more the people will appreciate and support it.

     The practice of medicine should be divested of all those technicalities, which the most limited intellect cannot clearly understand.  It should be based upon true, scientific, philosophical principles, employing such remedies as will act in perfect harmony with the laws of nature and animal life.

     The grand mystery to be understood in the practice of medicine is, not to create disease, but to remove it; and as disease is obstruction, such medicines as will assist nature in removing obstruction are the only remedial agents that can be safely and successfully employed.

     Where, then, the question is asked, are these remedial agents to be obtained?  Not in the submarine depths of the Atlantic or the Pacific, nor in the impenetrable regions of the terraqueous globe; but in the vegetable kingdom, in the little plant that shoots heavenward its spiral boughs, and spreads out its tinsel leaves to receive the drops of the silver dew or the warm beams of the noonday sun.

     In the vegetable kingdom there may be found the elixir of health; there may be found the healing balm.  Would to heaven that the study of this extensive division of natural objects was more generally pursued and appreciated.  Because, if it were, and the medicinal properties of plants better understood, disease might be more easily and successfully treated.

     In the vegetable kingdom an All-Wise Being has deposited such plants and herbs as are congenial to our constitutions, and adapted to the cure of all curable diseases to which human nature is incident.  We have no need, then, to resort to the application of poisonous mineral ingredients (such as mercury and the like) in the cure of disease, because they do not answer the purpose of their application; they clog up the system and poison the fountains of life, and make the patient a sickly, wretched being throughout the remainder of his days.  I appeal to the lame, the sick, and the blind; to the toothless and deformed; to the dyspeptic, the hypochondriac; to the individual of scrofulous habit and ulcerated gums; to the rheumatic invalid and broken-down constitution, who are the unhappy victims of mercurial empiricism.  It is a lamentable fact, that the most active and potent articles used by the faculty as medicines, and upon which they place their principal reliance, are destructive to life and injurious to health, the latter of which they are intended to promote.

     But many there are, I know, who will not believe it.  Intelligent and well-meaning as they may be, their prejudices have become so deep-rooted in favor of the mineral practice, that it is almost impossible to turn their attention to the work of reform.

     There are many, too, who are capable of discriminating between a true and false system of medicine, who are almost prepared to go for a thorough reform, but cannot abandon altogether the use of minerals, because they think that calomel, blue pill, or some other preparation of mercury is indispensably necessary to the cure of a diseased liver.  But however strongly inclined they may be to this opinion, it is, nevertheless, erroneous.  Calomel may exert a potent, powerful action on the liver, and give it mere temporary relief.  By its acrid and irritating nature, it arouses it to action, the secretion of bile is increased, the bowels are moved, and the patient feels relieved; but this relief is of short duration; in a few weeks he finds his liver has become torpid, and even more inactive than before, and he again has recourse to another dose, with the same results as before; and thus he continues to take dose after dose, until the healthy tone of his stomach and bowels is irrecoverably gone, and by and by falls a victim to the combined agency of his original disease and the deadly remedy which he took for the purpose of removing it.  In confirmation of what I have said, I will give the opinion of Dr. Barnwell.  He says: “Mercury will produce the liver complaint.”  Dr. Hamilton and Dr. Fies state “that it will, in some constitutions, lie inert for years, and then burst forth with tremendous violence; and that it destroys the digestive organs.”  Dr. Hamilton also declares “that every physician of competent knowledge does know these deadly effects of mercury on the constitution.”

     I am acquainted with an individual who has been afflicted with liver complaint for a number of years, who has been in the habit of taking a dose of calomel every time he felt the alarming symptoms, but without any positive cure.  And I know another individual who has had the same disease a much longer time than the former, and equally as formidable, who has entirely cured himself by the use of vegetable medicines.

     Of the superiority of vegetable over mineral medicines, I can fully testify from my own individual experience and observation, having witnessed some of the most astonishing cures performed by their application.  Of the effects of the latter I speak with pain, living to see a near frigid dragging out a miserable life, produced by the administration of poisonous mineral drugs.

     In view of the evils of the present system of medicine, a reformation is loudly called for; something more safe and effectual must be had; and I trust that it will go on, until the glaring inconsistencies in the healing art are ferreted out and held up to the indignation of an injured community, and the vegetable system of practice substituted to meet the emergencies of the people.

     And here I am, as it were, once again inadvertently led to the contemplation of the old, and, in many respects, ridiculous practice insisted upon by the ancient faculty, who really appear to imagine that prejudice is a holy principle, if sanctified by age.  In no point do they hold with more tenacious determination than in blood-letting, which by many is esteemed a remedy for all the ills that afflict humanity.  Dr. Smollet, in his admirable translation of Le Sage’s “Gil Blas,” shows up, in inimitable satirical style, the absurdity of this destructive course.  Dr. Sangrado was but a type of the great mass of our modern M. D.’s, who continue to extract the life-blood of their patients in spite of nature and common sense.

     In an excellent treatise upon this subject, the eminent Dr. Coggswell said that the disuse of the lancet and blisters is demanded both by humanity and science.  Is it not a mistake to suppose that a kettle of boiling water (the inflamed blood) will cease to boil by dipping out a part of it?  Is it not a mistake to suppose that blisters and rubefacients will remove inflammation, when they virtually superadd one inflammation to another?  But I fear that philosophy, or the most lucid reasoning, will fail with the indomitable prejudice of the majority of the old-time practitioners, who, following the example of Dr. Sangrado, will still go on blood-letting and sowing a profitable harvest for the undertaker and the sexton.






Canadian Experiences.






     As far back as the year 1857 I had, in accordance with the principles I espoused, been practicing my profession in Canada with distinguished success, and in the course of a prosperous career had accumulated an equal amount of profit and of fame.  So far as the latter went, I trust the reader will not deem me an egotist when I state that in the British provinces I had acquired the respect and consideration of the first citizens, in proof of which I may say that I was importuned by an influential body to represent them in the Colonial Parliament in opposition to the celebrated Thomas D’Arcy McGee, a gentleman whose literary and political reputation was well known in this country.

     In that year (1857), after being waited upon by a delegation representing a large body of Canadian citizens, urging me to enter the political arena—a course which my habits and my inclination strongly repudiated, and which I declined—it was rumored that I was nevertheless about to become a parliamentary candidate, and paragraphs to that effect found their way into the Canadian press.  One of the many I have before me; it was in the Union, Ottawa City, and reads as follows:


     It is hinted that Dr. Tumblety will offer himself as a candidate on Grittish principles, in case of a vacancy in this constituency, and that he is now feeling the pulse of the people.  The Doctor having amassed a fortune in the treatment of “all the ills that flesh is heir to”—in which treatment he has ever been successful—now philanthropically proposes to devote his brilliant abilities to the cure of the dangerous diseases affecting the body politic, and is proudly conscious of the success that awaits him in the effort.


     The report was false, and yet was circulated so universally that I deemed it incumbent to put forth a public disclaimer, which appeared in the Montreal Commercial Advertiser of December 7, 1857.

     I have recalled the above merely in evidence, that my position at that time in the city of Montreal was such as to induce what I conscientiously believe to have been a majority of the voters to offer me their suffrages in a parliamentary contest.

     But, without the circle of politics I am enabled to invite attention to certificates in that country from the highest and most influential people—ladies and gentlemen of the first standing in society, whose names are a guarantee of genuine and unsolicited evidence.  In this connection it will only be necessary to enumerate a comparative few in the long catalogue of those who voluntarily came forward as endorsers of my high professional standing, and the efficacy and success of my treatment:


Sir E. Head, Governor of Canada.

Hon Hy. Sternes, Mayor of Montreal.

Hon. Geo. Hall, Mayor of Quebec.

Hon. Jno. Hutchinson, Mayor of Toronto, C. W.

Hon J. B. Robinson.

Hon. James Cummings, Mayor of Hamilton, C. W.

Hon W. Matthews, Mayor of Brantford, C. W.

Hon W. Barker, Mayor of London, C. W.

W. Savage, Col. of Artillery.

H. P. Dwight, Superintendent Montreal Telegraph.

J. Taylor, Justice of Peace, Toronto, C. W.

R. H. Cook, Alderman, Toronto, C. W.

J. Urquhart, Surgeon, Toronto, C. W.


    To these it will not be out of place to add the subjoined from Hamilton Hunter, Esq., the editor of the London Atlas, a man of much literary culture, and whose reputation as a high-toned, honorable gentleman, was recognized throughout the Canadas:


     DR. F. TUMBLETY—Dear Sir:—As you are about to leave this city for some time, permit me to offer my testimony as to the very great measure of success which has attended your labors here, as a medical practitioner, during the few months you have resided among us.  It has come under my knowledge that many persons laboring under diseases of longer or shorter standing have been relieved by you, while your urbanity and gentlemanly character have won for you the good opinion of those who have made your acquaintance, and fully sustained the high reputation which you brought with you from Rochester, as embodied in the splendid testimonial which you carry with you from such a large number of the most influential and intelligent of your fellow citizens.  Wishing you every success, I have the honor to subscribe myself, yours very truly,


Editor of the London Atlas.


     I will not present additional testimony of my Canadian antecedents, professional and social; that which I have adduced will, I presume, satisfy the most skeptical of my position.

     My Canadian reminiscences are of the most pleasant character.  Personally I was respected, while my professional character was marked with such success as to render my name famous from one end of the province to the other.  The efficacy of my treatment was subscribed to even by the greater portion of the medical faculty, whose prejudice against what they deem an innovation upon the long-established routine, is remarkable throughout the world.







Reminiscences of Washington Lifes.







     I left Canada a short time prior to the breaking out of the war, and visited New York, where I speedily became known in my professional capacity, receiving, unsolicited, from the Mayor’s office, a copy of Health Laws and Ordinances, published under the auspices of the Board of Commission.

     I have testimonials at this period, without number, of my successful treatment, and my name therewith frequently appeared in the public journals.  About this time an old friend, of Buffalo—a Mr. McDonald, an eminent lawyer—wrote me, and from his letter I make the following extract:


     My Dear Friend—I perceive by the papers that you continue to astonish the natives.  God, and your own indomitable will, furnished you with a marvelous healing art, perhaps unequaled by any other man of your age now walking this earth.  You can never want so long as you have your reason with such advantages.


     When I went to Washington, I had a letter of introduction to General E. C. Carrington, from that eminent jurist, Judge Purcell, of the District Court.  It read:


     Dear Sir—I have much pleasure in introducing to you my friend, Dr. Tumblety, a gentleman of rare attainments and scientific research, who purposes locating in our city.

Yours, very faithfully,


     GEN. E. C. CARRINGTON, Washington.


     And it was but a short time before I began an extensive practice, and my services were required by the most distinguished people of Washington.

     From Judge Joseph Bryan, of Alabama, who was sojourning in Washington, I received a letter requesting me to see him, and prescribe for him, and the result was a series of successful visits to the Judge, and an after-continuation of respect and friendship.  Among my patients were the following:

     J. Gideon, one of the most wealthy men in Washington; Colonel Grandin; Mrs. Captain Balch, wife of the distinguished offer of the United States Navy; E. B. Kenley, one of the members of General Casey’s staff; Mrs. Traphagen, one of the elite of society in Washington, and associated in the proprietary of the celebrated Arlington property, the late residence of General Robert E. Lee; Edward Fry, Engineer of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and Mr. Boman, one of the most prominent bankers of the city.

     I think I may safely affirm that no person is better known in and around Washington than myself; nay, not only in Washington, but in every city of the United States, as well as the British Provinces, I am recognized, for there are few places in which I cannot be identified by some of my former patients, who, I am proud to say, I am always gratified to meet, for the feeling has ever been reciprocated.

     Time passed, and in my quiet but arduous professional career I had no cause to regret, when commenced that gigantic struggle which for four years drained the life-blood of the American Republic, while Europe looked on aghast, amazed at the sudden transition of a vast, flourishing, and peaceful country, to a huge camp and battle-ground, where armies were raised and disciplined with a celerity that perfectly confounded the European tactician; and battles were fought upon a scale, compared to which many of historical magnitude in the Old World were mere skirmishes.

     When General McClellan was appointed Commander of the Army of the Potomac I partially made up mind to tender my professional services as surgeon in one of the regiments, and I had the assurance from head-quarters that they would be cheerfully received; and here it may not be out of place to state, that although I had strictly avoided mixing in the political maelstrom which has proved to disastrous to the universal country, my feeling and sympathy has ever been with the Union and the Constitution, under which Young America progressed in strength, power and wealth, with almost miraculous growth.

     At this period I was furnished by General McClellan with passes to go and come where and when I pleased.  I mixed with the officers of his staff, was cordially received-trusted; and I can conscientiously lay my hand upon my heart and affirm, before my Creator, that I never betrayed any trust, or proved false to any friendship I professed.

     Through a distinguished officer, with whom I became acquainted in Boston, Massachusetts, I was introduced to the lamented President Lincoln, with whose gentle and genial manners I was charmed, and for whom, until the day of his ruthless assassination, I entertained feelings of the warmest respect and admiration, even as I now and ever shall reverence his memory.

     A reminiscence of a pleasing character lies before me in the shape of a testimonial from one of the most eminent and skillful physicians in America, Dr. Thos. N. Gray, of the Carver Hospital, Washington.  It reads thus:


     I have much pleasure in bearing testimony to the successful manner in which Dr. Tumblety has treated some cases with which I am acquainted, and I may add that I have always found him to be a gentleman, honorable and upright in all his transactions.


     WASHINGTON, D. C., Dec. 15, 1862.


     The commendation of such men as Dr. Gray is priceless, for it could not be purchased with gold.  My sojourn in the city of Washington, which embraced a period of over two years, is replete with many delightful reminiscences, and my circle of acquaintances embraced the most distinguished men of the day.

     General Wordsworth, who was well acquainted with my family in Rochester, invited me repeatedly to his headquarters to dine with him.  He was then the Provost Marshal, or Military Governor of Washington, and his quarters were at the house of General R. E. Lee, on Arlington Heights.  There were many pleasant reunions, at which I became acquainted with several United States officers of high rank, who have since recognized the old social time with their continued friendship.  I very often remained there until it was quite late, and at such times the General invariably sent me some of his staff officers with me, for my protection, to Willard’s Hotel.

     Few practitioners can produce such gratifying evidence of successful treatment as myself.  Mr. Rogers, Clerk in the Senate, who is reputed to have been a great pet and favorite of Daniel Webster and Henry Clay, and whose gentlemanly bearing constituted him an ever-welcome visitor at the houses of the elite of Washington, was so treated by me that he gave me letters, commending my professional ability, to several Congressmen of his acquaintance.

     I have a flattering testimonial from the Rev. Father Egan, a distinguished Catholic priest in Washington, and another from the Hon. Judge Smith, of Frederick City, Md.  The latter runs as follows:


     I have been under the treatment of Dr. Tumblety for some time.  When I first applied to him, he described precisely my complaint and feelings without asking any questions whatever, and I am mending in health under his treatment, and recommend him to the public.


     During my sojourn in Washington I was a constant attendant at the President’s levees, and often at such times I made valuable and cherished acquaintances—among others that of General Blenker, whose many invitation to dine with him I have still in my possession, cherished mementoes of the past.



My St. Louis Experience.






     About this period I experienced a decline of health, which induced me to seriously contemplate a trip to Europe.  In the meantime my relations with the President were of the most gratifying character, and, as I informed him of my projected trip, he kindly furnished me with letters, one of which was an introduction to that distinguished English nobleman, Lord John Russell:




WASHINGTON, June 12, 1863.

     Dear Sir—The bearer of this, Francis Tumblety, M. D., an esteemed friend of mine, is about to visit London for the first time, and will consequently be a stranger in your metropolis.  Any attention which you may extend to him will be greatly appreciated by

Your friend and humble servant,



     Circumstances, however, caused me to abandon the idea, and some time after my professional duties called me to St. Louis, where I speedily established a high reputation.  I trust that my constitutional carefulness enabled me to regulate my profits with a due regard for the vicissitudes of fortune.  I have before me a pleasing memento of my sojourn in St. Louis, in the shape of a beautifully illuminated card, signed by General Sherman, inviting me to a ball which inaugurated a noble local institution.  Although not a citizen of the State of Missouri, I had acquired large interests in and around St. Louis, and during my temporary absence from the city, my property was taken possession of and plundered by State officials, causing me a loss of thousands of dollars, for which I was never reimbursed.

     Some years later certain gentlemen who evidenced an interest in my welfare, and sympathized with me in the loss of my property, induced me to lay the matter before General Sherman, to whom I also forwarded a pamphlet, believing that it would fully explain the entire history of the unlawful seizure.  To this I was favored with the following reply:


Headquarters Military Division of the Missouri,

ST. LOUIS, July 20th, 1868.


     Dear Sir—Yours of July 9th was duly received, and while I regret the indignity and suffering to which you were subjected, I am sorry that it is entirely out of my province to aid you in obtaining the satisfaction which such a case undoubtedly merits.

With great respect, etc.,




     In this connection I will introduce a letter I had the pleasure of receiving from General Robert E. Lee, in reply to a communication bearing date only three days earlier.


LEXINGTON, Va., 21st May, 1869.

     My Dear Sir—I have received this morning the pamphlet giving some passages of your life, with your letter of the 18th inst.  The former I will take the earliest opportunity to read, and for the latter please accept my thanks.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

R. E. LEE.

Dr. Francis Tumblety.


     In my career I have made the acquaintance of a really distinguished circle of people, who have acquired not only a national, but a world-wide reputation.  A noble-hearted man, who, while possessing more amiability and genius than the commonality of his fellow-creatures, was also afflicted with too much of the weakness that is unfortunately often found in the gifted, the intelligent and the generous, is conjured up in my mind’s eye.  In the course of my professional life I became acquainted with Capt. George W. Cutter, a man upon whose brow the wreath of poet-laureate of America should have been justly placed.  He was not only a poet, but he was a hero, and upon the field of Buena Vista received the pistols and the dying message to his honored parents of the son of the illustrious statesman, Henry Clay.  Both were transmitted by Captain Cutter; the first were placed into the hands of the bereaved father by their faithful custodian, and the last words of the departed hero were sorrowfully repeated.  From that time Henry Clay was the steadfast friend of the man who had consoled, in his last moments, his favorite son, and I feel that the death of the great statesman was a sad drawback to the career of poor Cutter, of whom it might be said that he had no enemy but himself.

     It was the old tale, a tale too often recorded, of the child of genius.  Cutter’s was a genial spirit, and his vices and misfortunes the offspring of congeniality.  He fell a victim to drink, and in the embrace of the demon of intoxication he fell from the lofty pinnacle that was within his reach to the depth of inebriate degradation.  Many of the brightest and the best of all nations have so fallen, intellectual monuments of ruin and decay.

     My prescription for a bronchial affection, which interfered with his success as a lecturer—for Captain Cutter, in the days of his popularity, was frequently invited to deliver addresses and orations—also introduced me to the celebrated John B. Gough, who was suffering under a similar affection of the throat, and who gave me flattering testimony of the healing and efficacious character of my medicines.

     Poor Cutter!  He was not destined to realize the harvest of his great literary genius, but posterity will do justice to the best and most original of American poets.  The reader will, I am sure, pardon me for introducing here one of those brilliant gems, which, emanatin from his pen, is destined to live so long as poetry exists :





                                                Away!  Away!  through the sightless air,

                                                     Stretch forth your iron thread!

                                                For I would not dim my sandals fair

                                                     With the dust ye tamely tread:

                                                Aye, rear it up on its million piers—

                                                     Let it circle the world around—

                                                And the journey ye make in a hundred years

                                                     I’ll clear at a single bound!


Though I can not toil like the groaning slave

     Ye have fettered with iron skill,

To ferry you over the boundless wave,

     Or grind in the noisy mill,

Let him sing his giant strength and speed!

     Why, a single shaft of mine

Would give that monster a flight indeed,

     To the depth of the ocean’s brine.


No!  no!  I’m the spirit of light and love,

     To my unseen hand ‘tis given

To pencil the ambient clouds above,

     And polish the stars of heaven!

I scatter the golden rays of fire

     On the horizon far below,

And deck the sky, where storms expire,

     With my red and dazzling glow.


The deepest recesses of earth are mine,

     I traverse its silent core;

Around me the starry diamonds shine,

     And the sparkling fields of ore;

And oft I leap from my throne on high

     To the depths of the ocean caves,

Where the fadeless forests of coral lie

     Far under the world of waves.


My being is like a lovely thought!

     That dwells in a sinless breast;

A tone of music that ne’er was caught;

     A word that was ne’er expressed!

I dwell in the bright and burnished halls

     Where the fountains of sunlight play;

Where the curtain of gold and opal falls

     O’er the scenes of the dying day.


With a glance I cleave the sky in twain;

     I light it with a glare,

When fall the boding drops of rain

     Through the darkly-curtained air!

The rock-built towers, the turrets gray,

     The piles of a thousand years,

Have not the strength of potter’s clay

     Beneath my glittering spears.


From the Alps’ or the Andes’ highest crag,

     From the peaks of eternal snow,

The blaring folds of my fiery flag

     Illume the world below.

The earthquake heralds my coming power,

     The avalanche bounds away,

And howling storms at midnight’s hour

     Proclaim my kingly sway.


Ye tremble when my legions come—

     When my quivering sword leaps out

O’er the hills that echo my thunder-drum,

     And rend with my joyous shout.

Ye quail on the land, or upon the seas,

     Ye stand in your fear aghast,

To see me burn the stalwart trees,

     Or shiver the stately mast.


The hieroglyphs on the Persian wall—

     The letters of high command—

Where the prophet’s read the tyrant’s fall,

     Were traced by my burning hand.

And oft in fire have I wrote since then

     What angry heaven decreed;

But the sealed eyes of sinful men

     Were all too blind to read.


At length the hour of light is here,

     And kings no more shall bind;

Nor bigots crush with craven fear

     The forward march of mind.

The words of truth and freedom’s rays

     Are from my pinions hurl’d;

And soon the light of better days

     Shall rise upon the world.


But away!  away!  through the sightless air

     Stretch forth your iron thread!

For I would not dim my sandals fair

     With the dust yet tamely tread!

Aye!  rear it upon its thousand piers—

     Let it circle the world around—

And the journey ye make in a hundred years

     I’ll clear at a single bound.


     I felt rather sad over my St. Louis experience and took a trip to New York, where I learned that I was dead.  It was reported that I was attached to the United States Army, and this rumor reached my relatives in Europe.  It was also bruited abroad that I had fallen in one of the engagements.  I first knew this by meeting with Captain Anderson, of the Royal Navy, but extensively and favorably known in this country, wherein he made himself a legion of friends as the commander of the steamship Great Eastern.  He knew me well, as also my relatives, a long time previous, while he was the captain of one of the Cunard line of packets, and while I resided in Boston, at the time steamers came to that port.  He frequently requested me to take a trip with him to Europe, to visit my friends there, among whom I had a near relative and namesake, Tumblety, who has been connected over twenty years with the Cunard line.  On one of his trips the Captain took my daguerreotype to my uncle in England, who has since died, in order to satisfy him that I was still in the land of the living.

     Another distinguished commander in the Cunard line, Captain Moody, was also an intimate friend of my family, and him, too, I used to meet with friendly greeting at the old Tremont in Boston.  I recall these reunions with pleasurable emotion, for they were magnetic links that connected me with dear friends far away across the stormy Atlantic.  Nevertheless, it is not for the purpose of indulging pleasant reminiscences that I have introduced these personages, but simply in proof of my standing in society, for the many friends and acquaintances of Captain Anderson will understand that the person he would take by the hand must command a spotless character and a gentlemanly record.

     I was delighted a few days after to receive the following among other equally cordial letters from old friends:


PHILADELPHIA, July 2, 1865.

     DR. FRANCIS TUMBLETY—Dear Sir:—This moment I perused your epistle addressed to the Sunday Mercury of this city.  Being a friend, I was delighted to know your whereabouts.  It is now two years since I have seen you, but I still remember the refined and honorable gentleman, Dr. Francis Tumblety, with whom I have enjoyed many a pleasant hour; and as a proof that your enemies have not, and cannot tarnish the bright luster that clings to your fair name, I write this letter to say that your friends are unchanged.

     I trust your health has not been impaired by your recent illness, and that you are able to continue your professional duties in an extensive practice.  If you visit this city I would be most happy to see you.

     I will leave here in September for Chicago, to resume my medical tuition at the Rush College.

     I will be happy to hear from you at your pleasure.

With respects, I am your friend,








In the American El Dorado.






     After remaining in the East for some time I was possessed with the desire to visit California, that modern El Dorado, wherein so many fortunes have been made and wrecked.  This was intended more in the nature of a professional trip than was my tour in Europe; and so far as the success of my practice is in question, my journey may be classed as an undoubted success.  There, too, I formed acquaintances which speedily ripened into friendships of a lasting character.

     Without egotism I may say that no medical practitioner ever visited San Francisco who so speedily established as enviable a reputation as myself.  The success of my practice speedily spread; for no advertising is so valuable as the grateful expressions of those who have been rescued from pain and suffering by the ministering office of the physician.  My office daily presented the appearance of a levee, and so far as the realization of a golden harvest was concerned, at no previous epoch of my life did fortune favor me with so favorable an opportunity.

     Subjoined is a complimentary notice from the Alta California.


     The name and fame of Dr. Francis Tumblety have become a household word throughout this continent, and the mere mention of it is a sufficient guarantee that the public may place full confidence in his worth and reliability.


     Again, the Brantford Christian Messenger said:


     DR. TUMBLETY.—Not long since we alluded to the wonderful cures effected by this gentleman, at and around Hamilton and London, of which the Spectator, Banner, Christian Advocate, Free Press and Atlas speak in the most laudatory terms.  In another column of to-day’s issue under the heading of “Special Notice,” will be found authenticated certificates from individuals respecting the benefit they have derived from Dr. Tumblety’s medicines.  We have in our possession a large number of similar certificates, but have omitted to insert them, being persuaded that those which we have given to-day sufficiently demonstrate that gentleman’s skill and success in the treatment of diseases.  We are glad to know that he bids fair to be equally successful in Brantford.  Crowds of people are resorting to him for advice, and many are already experiencing considerable relief from taking his medicine.  Nearly every disease to which the human system is subject seems to give way under Dr. Tumblety’s treatment.


     The reader will bear in mind that the foregoing notices were candid and unbiassed editorials, very distinct in character from what are generally known as paid for “puffs.”  The whole of the press notices I received were founded upon the unsolicited certificates of patients, who themselves sought the medium of the press through which to evince their grateful appreciation of my effort in their behalf.

     I cannot reflect upon my sojourn in California without recalling a little piece of pleasantry which, in the shape of an ode, appeared in a local print:




Cures he has wrought of each disease,

With healing herbs and barks of trees—

Samples culled from mountain and glen,

Plucked from the moor or dragged from the fen,

The mandrake, elm, and bitter bog bean,

Sarsaparilla and horehound, I ween;

Butternut, colt’s foot, and Irish moss,

The bark of the widow and garlic sauce,

With those, the Doctor’s wondrous skill,

Each killing disease was sure to kill.

Gouts, consumption, and shivering ague,

Deathly diseases, complaints that plague you;

All things nasty, for which physic’s given,

Out of you soon by these herbs will be driven.

See certificates, given galore—

Citizens—at least threescore:

Blind and lame, who walk and see;

Given up by the doctors, twenty-three—

All grown sound and healthy by taking

Medical potions of Tumblety’s making;

So all the cramped, rheumatic, and stuffed,

Seeing how the Doctor was puffed,

Besieged his door at morn and noon,

Blessing their stars to have met such a boon

Of a doctor who knew their disease without telling,

Whether by seeing or only by smelling;

Thousands came, who went assured—

Satisfied all, for all were cured.


     The following flattering reasons were assigned for my unmixed success.


     1st.—Because he is one of the few mortals to whom the divine art of healing seems to have descended as a legitimate inheritance.

     2d.—Because he has investigated every remedy known to science, and, in addition, has new remedies from the fields and forests, of his own discovery, and of the greatest possible efficacy and value.

     3d.—Because he has no routine way of treating all cases alike, but treats each patient who sacredly commits his health to his care according to the actual condition of the patient.

     4th.—Because, having made a speciality of Liver, Lung, and Blood diseases, he has an experience which has extended to tens of thousands of cases—a greater experience, it is safe to say, than any other living man.

     5th.—Because he selects his remedies for each case with such care, uses harmless vegetable agents, and devotes his whole life and energies in making his practice successful—to getting his patients thoroughly and permanently cured.


     Another complimentary notice from the same source is also given.


     “The name and fame of Dr. Tumblety have become a household word throughout this continent, and the mere mention of it is a sufficient guarantee that the public may place full confidence in his worth and reliability.

     “How sublime, how beautiful the thought, that the researches and developments of the Nineteenth Century have added fresh and glorious laurels to the great temple of fame and science!  In every department and phase of progressive development the hand of the sage and philosopher is ever busy—ever ready to devise means for the amelioration of life.

     “Think you his an enviable position—an existence without stern obstacles and perplexing cares?  Nay, far from it; for he plucks the lovely pose in peril of the thorn—he climbs to eminence and renown, and every step he gains is planted on a prostrate foe.

     It must be admitted by every rational mind that the man who contributes the most toward promoting the happiness and welfare of the human race, must, of necessity, be the most highly esteemed by his fellow-men.”


     The San Francisco Call at the same period gave me the following handsome recognition on its editorial page:


     “Who is Dr. Tumblety?  is a question often asked. Well, we happen to know, and we are able to say, having known for several years past, that he is one of the few mortals to whom the divine gift of healin seems to have descended as a legitimate inheritance. People say he is eccentric, but we say he cures, and that is the great test.”


     Here is the kindly way in which the Chronicle spoke of me and my work:


     MIRACLES.—The age of miracles would seem reinstated in the wonderful doings of Dr. Tumblety, of No. 30 Kearney street, whose recent visit to this city is attended by so many and such incredible cures of bed-ridden and crippled patients.  It is well known to hundreds in this community that in a short time he has totally removed the infirmities of months and years.  Instances are known of his causing the limping cripple to lay down his crutches, without which locomotion was impossible, and give him full powers of easy movement.  The dumb have been enabled to talk, and the helpless invalid restored at once to health and happiness.


     At this point of my narrative it may be profitable to introduce a report taken from the Alta California (one of the oldest and most influential journals of San Francisco), of a lecture delivered by me with a view to the dissemination of the principles upon which I practice the medical science.  I may preface the editorial notice, from which perhaps will be surmised the extent and character of my engagements.


     As usual there was a great rush of patients, coming from almost every portion of the country.  The Doctor, who is wise and shrewd, saw at a glance what could and could not be done in the few remaining hours of the day, and entering the reception rooms proceeded to address those present, giving, as will be seen, some very excellent counsel.  The Doctor deals in common sense, makes plain statements, and knows what he says.  He spoke as follows:

     “Ladies and Gentlemen—I see there are more here than I can properly attend to, and I must try to manage to get a limited number of you at a time.  Many of you only want a little advice.  You have seen me before.  Some of you, I suppose, have come a long distance and are apparently too feeble to wait your turn.  Those who wish a thorough examination with the Respirometer I will take into my private rooms as soon as possible.  I can listen to your lungs and tell pretty well their condition; but if you want to know their exact state—whether bronchial, tuberculous, pleuritic or pulmonary consumption, and whether you are curable or not—you must be examined with the Respirometer.  It is the only proper way of asculating.  Consumption can be cured.  Lungs deeply diseased may be healed up if the system is got into a healthy, healing condition.  The course pursued by a majority of physicians is all wrong; they never cure; their cod-liver oil and whisky only ruin the stomach.  I frequently, in riding in the cars, get seated by consumptives; they have al their traps for drinking with them, and as soon as they get into a spell of coughing they take a drink of whisky; and so they go on, and take a quart a day.  Take a well man and let him drink in this way, and he will soon lose his appetite.  My first step is to cleanse the stomach and liver, and then to create an appetite.  Many of you have a cough, night sweats, creeping chills, and you all want to have them stopped; you think you would be so much better.

     Now, I stop nothing.  The cough is to relieve the lungs.  If your lungs are diseased, the first and only thing to be done is to get the strength, and the only way to do this is to cleanse the stomach and the liver.  If both lungs are not badly affected, with my botanical medicines and syrups I can frequently effect the most wonderful cures of consumption.  A cure frequently requires gentle purging for some length of time, to get the stomach and liver to act naturally.  As soon as the mucous and slime begin to move the appetite begins to come up.  The remedy I use, being an alkali, preserves the food in the stomach until it is digested, preventing it from souring.  Now, in almost all cases of lung disease, the action of the system is so slow that food lies in the stomach and sours. Blood is made of it after it is spoiled; and this is the way our blood gets thick and bad.  Cancer, sore throat and catarrh proceed from this sour stomach.  Burning of the throat with caustic and gargles afford only temporary relief.  It should be treated the same as when the tongue is coated, or sick headache; the cause is the same.  My remedies go right to the blood.  Now, I want you to understand that I have no special remedies for chills or night sweats.  As soon as the lungs begin to heal these with stop; but opium, quinine, and many other things which are used to stop them, go right into the stomach, and digestion stops.  This is the very thing I am trying to restore.  If I cannot get patients hungry, and get food to digest easily, I cannot cure them.  Get up a good appetite—eat good, rich food, fat meat, gravy, in fact nearly everything the appetite craves, and the lungs will soon begin to heal.  No matter whether the sore is inside or outside, if the system is healthy it will heal up; you can hardly stop it.  It is nature to heal.  You may notice persons who have scrofula or any old chronic running ulcers; they are all of a feeble or bilious condition, their digestion is poor, and they have not a healthy circulation of blood.  Some three or four years ago a lady came to my room; she had a tumor with two ulcers on her liver, which had been running for fourteen years, and they kept getting worse.  She was costive, skin yellow, very stupid and dull, liver and stomach torpid, and no circulation.  In three months I had the lady completely cured, the ulcers healed, and she is now a bright, healthy woman.  Now, there is one very important matter to be attended to in curing consumption, and that is to prevent taking cold.  Your physician tells you to go out every pleasant day.  This, in my opinion, is a great mistake.  Persons in ill health go out and take colds.  When a lung begins to heal the slightest change will inflame it, and then they are thrown back.  When I can persuade patients to keep to their rooms I am almost sure of success.  When they are able they can exercise about the room to keep the blood in circulation.  The directions which accompany my medicines are so explicit that anyone can take them without ever seeing me.  There is not a day but what I hear of some that have been cured who I never saw.  Take the medicine and guard against taking cold.  If the lungs are not too far gone the stomach will soon cleanse itself, the appetite will soon come.  Eat plenty of good food and nature will heal the lungs.  As I said before, do not depend on something to help the cough or stop the night sweats and creeping chills, for those are only temporary.  Some persons may think, when I speak of taking cold, that my medicines may open the pores and lay them more liable.  It is quite the reverse of this, for when the stomach is cleansed persons are not so liable to take cold as when the system is locked up.  Frequently, when people take cold, if they would take a dose of my specific pills, it would work it off; but instead of this they take something to check it, which drives it back to the lungs, leaving the seeds for tubercles, or the next slight cold, and inflammation on the lungs.  I have talked much longer than I intended to, but when I start I get so anxious to convince people who easy it is to keep well and feel fit for business that I do not know when to stop.  When your stomach is out of order you are sick all over, and if you keep that right you cannot but be healthy and fleshy.  Look at me.  Once I was in the last stage of consumption, as tall as I am now, and weighed less than one hundred pounds; and yet here I am now, weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds, cured by the same medicine I offer you.







Pleasant Years in New York.






     Notwithstanding the great professional success I was realizing in San Francisco, I began to experience a yearning to return to the Atlantic States, where some of the brightest days of an eventful life had been passed.  My arrival in New York was noticed in terms of the most flattering kind.  Here is a sample:


     The friends and numerous former patients of Dr. Tumblety will be glad to learn that he has returned to the city on a short visit.  The Doctor looks as bright and handsome as ever, and does not know yet whether he will open an office for professional business or not, as he is largely engaged in another enterprise at present.  Announcement will be made through the papers should the Doctor conclude to practice here.


     During my visit hundreds from various points within the scope of the papers availed themselves of the opportunity to visit that city for the purpose of consulting me.

     My return to New York was no sooner made known through the medium of the public journals than I was the recipient of letters from former patients and friends throughout the country.

     My professional correspondence was, and for years has been, of an exceedingly voluminous character, embracing a circle of national and world-wide celebrities.

     Horace Greeley, the distinguished editor of the New York Tribune, wrote:


     NEW YORK TRIBUNE OFFICE, July 22, 1869.


     Dear Sir:—I am stopping at present at the Union League House, corner of Madison avenue and Twenty-sixth street.  You will much oblige me by callin there from 7:30 to 8 o’clock in the morning.




     James Gordon Bennett entertained a high opinion of my skill in the treatment of diseases appertaining to the lungs, as is evidenced by the following letter of introduction to a patient in whom he evinced considerable interest:


NEW YORK, September 9, 1871.


     Dear Sir:—The bearer of this is a particular friend of mine, and I ask you to confer a favor on me by doing something for him.  He is troubled with a bronchial affection, and as I believe you to be the only doctor in whom I have any confidence, I send him to you.

Believe me, sir, to be yours, etc.,



     Willard Parker wrote me as follows:


NEW YORK, May 18, 1869.


     Dear Doctor:—I am most anxious to see you.  If you call during my office hours, I shall be happy to consult you and shake a hand with you.

Yours truly,



     The following are some of the other letters I received about this time:




     Very Dear Doctor:—I wonder if you remember the old priest, the old Indian Missionary on the Rocky Mountains, who came to see you and enjoyed your conversation at the Sisters Hospital, Cincinnati.  Oh, dear Doctor, many a time have I thought of you and prayed for you, spoke of you, and inquired of news concerning you.  Once I heard you had gone to Heaven.  Yesterday I heard from Sister Anthony that you are alive and doing very well: a thousand thanks to God, and may Heaven be your reward for the kind help you gave to suffering me.

     I promise to remember you daily at the altar; please to remember me sometimes.

Very respectfully I am, your humble servant,



     This is from a reverend father of the same college:


     Dear Sir:—Though our acquaintance be slight, I presume you will not take it amiss if I add a few lines to Rev. A. Hoecken’s note.  That God will bless you is the prayer of yours respectfully,



     A Proprietary Medicine manufacturer wrote:



     Dear Doctor:—     *     *     *     *     *     If you were here now you could reap a rich harvest of business.  Your great professional success was much appreciated, as many of your old friends and admirers often ask for you.

Yours very truly,

T. GILLILAND, 74 Third Avenue.


     The following I received from a member of the Society of Friends, a grateful patient:



     Dear Doctor, and very much esteemed and remembered friend:—Though my pen has been inactive, and though absent, thee are dearly remembered, and I have longed to see thee.  The holidays were anticipated in the hope of your being with us in our midst, while the oysters and turkey were prepared so temptingly to the palate, and the hearty wishes of many new years, and very pleasant ones, were fully and often uttered.  They came and passed, and our treasured and fond anticipations were not realized.  Your presence perhaps made other circles happy, and we were left to hope and look forward to a promise and a time again.  And now, Doctor, do tell us when it will be, when hands will clasp hands once again, at our village home.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Your sincere friend,



     My intention was to settle in New York, the great metropolitan magnet of the United States and of America, and with this view I entered into negotiations for the purchase of property on Fifth avenue, near Central Park.  The evidence of my intention will be found in the following correspondence of Mr. W. W. Leland, of the first-class hotel celebrity:



NEW YORK, January 23, 1871.

     DR. TUMBLETY—Dear Sir:—Yours of the 24th instant is at hand, contents noted.  I would say that the Central Park Hotel Company have secured the lots in the finest location on Fifth avenue, fronting the Park, and I have already had $875,000 in bonds subscribed, for they are 7 per cent., principal and interest payable in gold, with sinking fund to pay them all before they fall due.  I am anxious to have an interview with you.  Please call her any day after four o’clock, or drop me a line when I can call upon you.  I can make it greatly to your advantage.

I am, very respectfully yours,



     Among the many noble and distinguished gentlemen to whom, through my profession, I have been favorably introduced, there are none whose acquaintance, and, let me add, friendship, I prize more highly than that of Professor Samuel F. B. Morse, who, when apprised of my return, forwarded his remembrance in a card of his residence at No. 5 West Twenty-second street, with the talismanic words “At home.”

     I certainly have been fortunate in the majority of my acquaintance, and in the category I take pride in recalling the name of General Joe Hooker, with whom I have been for a long period upon terms of cordial friendship.  I met him in New York about this period, and was happy to experience proof of his continued kindly feeling by his cordial recognition.  About a year afterwards I met him again at the fashionable resort of Saratoga, where, also, I met Lieutenant-General Grant, to whom I was introduced, and by whom I was treated with flattering consideration.

     About this time a humorous reference to myself appeared in the New York Sunday Mercury:


     We were honored with a visit from the celebrated Dr. Tumblety last evening, who is going about curing diseases with the most magical success, and threatening to send all the undertakers, sextons and grave-diggers to the almshouse.  He carried in his hand a bunch of fragrant herbs, which, if introduced into the catacombs of Egypt, would set all the old mummies on their legs, as lively as before they were wrapped in their cerements.  He is a benefactor at large, who robs disease of its terrors, and is fast bringing about a millennial state of affairs, when sickness will be unknown, and health and longevity be the common lot.  He is decocting his herbs, and producing lotions that make cripples throw their crutches away, and features twisted into puckers by aches and pains spread out into broad grins of delight.  His “Pimple Banisher” will take the crimson tubercles from the nose of the most inveterate toper, and bleach it to the hue of that of Father Matthew or John B. Gough.  He has no doubt of being able to cure the President, if that functionary will place himself on the proper regimen and substitute the juice of the Indian herbs for that which he is in the habit of imbibing.  The proprietors of Greenwood Cemetery find that, since he located himself in Brooklyn, the sight of a hearse in that city is as rare as the approach of a comet, and that if he is not put of the way they will have to convert their grounds into gardens or city lots.


     As I said before, I intended to settle in New York, but I was destined soon to change my residence.  My natural love of travel, of varying scene, and, above all, my desire to benefit my fellow-men everywhere, were too strong for my intention.  Other physicians do so through lack of practice, but this has never occurred to me.  I have never located myself in any place wherein I could not realize a handsome and permanent income.

     My projected tour of Europe was scarcely made public before I was the happy recipient of credentials, of which the following will serve as a specimen:



NEW YORK, July 13, 1869.



     Dear Sirs:—We have the pleasure of introducing to you Francis Tumblety, M. D., of this city, a passenger per steamer Nebraska, to whom we have given a letter of credit on yourselves.  Any attention to Dr. Tumblety during his stay in London will be appreciated by him and also by your friends,







Brilliant European Experiences.






     My European tour was not one of mere pleasure, but rather a journey of professional research and observation.  My labor was not without pleasant intervals, in which valuable acquaintances, often ripening into friendship—never, let me hope, to be interrupted through life—were made.  Those upon whose footprints the shadows have fallen, will best enjoy the transient gleams of sunshine which may illumine their way.

     After my tour through Ireland, Scotland and the Continent of Europe, I visited London, where I was induced to prolong my stay beyond the anticipated period, through the request of parties who were anxious for me to prescribe for them.  It was at this time that I had the gratification of an introduction to Charles Dickens, the immortal “Boz,” and  my brief acquaintance with this eminent writer constitutes one of the most pleasant episodes of my life.  An extract from the copy of a letter which I wrote to a friend in New York will best detail my accidental meeting with the author of the Pickwick Papers, and its results:


     As I advised you, it was my intention, ere this, to be in New York, but circumstances will prevent my leaving England for a week or ten days, from this time.  I have been induced to remain thus longer, through the urgent entreaties of certain parties, who are anxious that I shall prescribe for themselves and friends.  Among the former is no less a person than Charles Dickens, to whom I was introduced at Brook’s Club House.  My American antecedents were a sufficient passport, and we were speedily engaged in conversation relative to the scenes and observations upon which he founded his American Notes.  He expressed an earnest desire to take another trip to the United States, and I assured him a hospitable reception.  He spoke in enthusiastic terms of certain parties whose acquaintance he made during his American tour, and said that he would not grudge a journey of double the distance, to shake them by the hand.  He is a charming conversationalist, and the soul of congeniality.  A gentleman here, for whose health he evinces much anxiety, has an affection of the liver, and I have been induced, by the persuasion of Mr. Dickens, to attend him.


    I cannot finish the reminiscences of my first location in England without reference to the large and liberal philanthropy of the Right Hon. Lord Headley, a portion of one of whose letters I append, for the insertion of which (because so eminently flattering to myself) I pray the reader’s indulgence.



5th November, 1869.

     Dear Sir:—I received your letter and read it with much content and admiration.  The first feeling was caused by satisfaction, that it was in my power, by so small an act of courtesy and attention, to give you so much pleasure; the second was caused by the high talent the composition of your letter showed, with its aspirations, feelings and sentiments, telling of a mind of no common order, and a disposition at once appreciative, kind and generous.  Yours was by no means the first occasion upon which I have enjoyed an interview and conversation with your countrymen.  All your remarks touching this country and your own are fresh, genuine, sound and natural.  I shall keep your letter, and shall take that much liberty with it (and you) as to show it to those friends who may be able to enter into its cleverness, expressive language, and admirable impulse.          *          *          *          *

Dear sir, yours very faithfully,



     P. S.—Upon second thought I shall ask you to consider my address in England to be “The Carlton Club, Pall Mall, London.”


     During my sojourn in London, I was the recipient of marked courtesies from many of England’s most illustrious men and women.  I was honored upon more than one occasion by an invitation to dine with the Right Hon. B. Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield), and my correspondents included the Earl de Gray, Earls Derby and Granville, Right Hon. J. Ward Hunt, Right Hon. John Bright, Right Hon. The Marquis of Ripon, Mr. Plimsoll, M. P.; Mr. Rathbone, M. P.; Mr. Mundella, M. P.; Prof. Fawcett, M. P.; Sir Wilfrid Lawson, M. P.; Sir Edward Thornton, Dr. Kenealy, J. A. Roebuck and many others.

     The Duchess of ———, one of the most beautiful and accomplished women of “Merrie England,” and the intimate friend of both Thackeray and Dickens, invited me to breakfast with her at the magnificent mansion at Torquay.  Upon entering the dining-room I presented her with a lovely bouquet of rare flowers, which she very graciously accepted.  A few moments later she embalmed the incident in the following lines:




Thanks for the lovely rosebud scent,

Its beauty may be fleeting,

But not its sentiment.

And as its charming beauty

Nor color cannot last,

It will be a pleasant duty

In memory of the past

To guard the faded flower,

When you have gone from me,

In memory of the hour,

You came to Sweet Torquay.



     A reported of the Liverpool Mercury made the following remarks about the author of this work:


     Dr. Tumblety is not an easy man to interview.  He is utterly free, both in private and public, from effusiveness that longs to overflow into confidence.  He is far from an ungenial man; indeed, having traveled with him under all kinds of circumstances—and travel is a great test of man’s amiability—I can say truly that I never found a fellow traveler more agreeable and more unselfish.  He carries into the smallest details of his life a high-bred curiosity which is a far higher proof of his good birth and breeding than his descent from so many of the statesmen of Ireland and his relationship to many of the best families in England.  But he is distinctly not an effusive man, and of all subjects that of which he least likes to speak is himself.  It is doubtful if he ever spent a moment of his whole life in self-analysis, and if he ever did so, he has certainly never communicated the result to anybody.


     Among the interesting interviews with the leading men of England, was one with Sir Wilfred Lawson, whose invitation I append:


BRIGHTON, January 20, 1875.

     Sir Wilfrid Lawson presents his compliments to Dr. Tumblety, and very much desires an interview with him at his earliest convenience.


     My impressions of London will be found in the following letter to a friend in New York, which I have recently unearthed:




     The population of this immense human hive is between five and six millions.  It covers the space of one hundred and twenty square miles.  The cabs are the legs of London, so to speak, and the hurried travelers should use them.  Westminster Abbey is the first object of interest, from the number of great and historical dead lying within its walls.  The object of the most marked interest in the Abbey is the noble building itself, with its wonderful aisles, arches and forests of noble columns.  The monuments of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Dryden, Queen Elizabeth, the tombs of Edward the First, Henry the Fifth, and a host of warrior kings, the weapons carried by many of them, and the coronation chair in which every sovereign of England has been crowned, are subjects of contemplative interest.  I have wandered with a vague feeling of melancholy pleasure through the gloomy recesses of this last resort of grandeur, reflecting upon the instability and evanescent character of human life and worldly fame, mentally tracing the history of the tenants of this great national mausoleum through the wilderness of their fruition, glory and misfortune, from the cradle to the grave.  I have reflected upon the brief span of our existence here, and that I am but one of the millions who have over and over again been found in this same place ruminating upon the trophies of mortality before me, and then came the seasonable, yet sad conviction, that in a space, which is but momentary in the eternal circle of time, I too must moulder in the dirt, and quit this scene to a new and successive generation.

     The Tower of London is the next object of interest. The leading attractions in this wonderful cluster of fortifications are to be found in the Traitors’ Gate.  Queen Elizabeth’s Armory is in the same tower where Sir Walter Raleigh was so long confined, and where the fatal axe and block are yet to be seen, by and on which fell so many royal and noble heads.  The Jewel Tower, where the regalia of England, crown, scepter, sword, etc., are shown, in an iron cage.  The Beauchamp Tower, where so many noble captives languished away their lives.  The tremendous collection of ancient and modern arms, armor, etc.  This tower represents upwards of eight hundred years of English history, nor is there anything in London which has more powerful attraction to the intelligent traveler.

     St. Paul’s Church, which, after St. Peter’s, at Rome, is the grandest ecclesiastical pile of earth, contains, among other heroes, the remains of Wellington and Nelson.  The British Museum demands an entire day for the inspection of its wonders, and so does the Crystal Palace.

     The monuments of London are too numerous to detail, and I might dwell to the extent of a volume upon the many objects of interest, including the National Gallery, the Thames Tunnel, the Underground Railways, the Parks, etc.

     Within a short trip of the metropolis are Oxford and Cambridge, those great seats of learning, with their wilderness of cottages, and picturesque grounds.  Brighton, too, the sea bathing place par excellence of the British Islanders.  I have just returned from the latter place, which I very much like.  I left the vessel at Queenstown, Ireland, and afterwards visited Cork, where I was the guest of Dr. Barter for a few days.  He is one of the most distinguished gentlemen in the United Kingdom.  I visited the Lakes of Killarney, where Lord Headley entertained me as if I were a Prince.  I explored the Wicklow Mountains, the Curragh of Kildare, and many other points of legendary interest.  I remained some time in Dublin, which is really a beautiful city.  I also visited the Giant’s Causeway; the scenery beggars description.  From Ireland I crossed over to Liverpool, the great maritime port, so noted for its magnificent docks.  Those of the Laird’s are very grand.  Mr. Laird gave me a piece of the famous Alabama.  When I visit Paris I will again write.

Respectfully yours, etc.


     While in Paris my services were solicited on behalf of a gentleman, one of the attaches of the English Embassy, who was suffering from an acute disease.  By a faithful adherence to the regimen I prescribed, together with the medicines which I furnished, a rapid and almost miraculous cure was effected.  It chanced that the Emperor was affected with a similar disease—which, indeed, in his case was chronic—and hearing by a mere accident of the success of my treatment, he gave instructions for my presentation at a private interview.

     This was accomplished without the knowledge of the Imperial physicians—for there, as here, there is much of the old-time prejudice to be surmounted, especially as it affects the practice of medicine.  The Emperor treated me kindly, and even cordially, and I soon became as much at home with him as I would have felt in the boudoir of a private gentleman.  He talked of America, expressed faith in my theory, and even made some jocular and sarcastic remarks upon the Sangrados of the old school of medicine.  Finally, he admitted himself without reservation to my treatment, and within ten days the Parisian journals announced that his Majesty had happily recovered from an indisposition which, it was at one time feared, might prove serious.

     As I write I have before me a memento of the greatness of the past as well as of the instability of human grandeur; the Cross of the Legion of Honor glitters upon my desk, and reminds me of the occasion upon which I was the recipient of this distinguished mark of imperial favor. 

     My last letter received from this distinguished personage was in reply to one of mine addressed to him while he was in exile.  Here is a translation:


COWES, Isle of Wight, Sept. 18, 1872.

F. TUMBLETY, Esq., M. D.

     I was much touched, sir, by the amiable letter that you addressed to me, and by the sentiments that you have offered me in my misfortune.

     I wish, therefore, to-day, to thank you for the sympathy you have shown me, and to assure you of my distinguished sentiments.



     I have many pleasant reminiscences of my visit to Berlin.  While I was there the city presented an exceedingly gay appearance, and my surroundings were of such an agreeable character as to induce me to prolong my stay for a much loner period than I had originally determined.

     The credentials which I bore were passports to the most distinguished circles, and before I became a resident of the city one week I was formally presented to the veteran King William, whom I found as simple and unostentatious in manner, and free and familiar in conversation as the most unpresuming of his subjects.  His Majesty, at the first, expressed a desire to consult me upon matters pertaining to the United States, and our subsequent converse was as free and affable as between two equals in rank.  I was honored with an appointment upon his medical staff.

     The favor extended to me by his Majesty was enlarged by the familiar intercourse with the members of the Royal family; and my residence in the Imperial Palace, to which I received a cordial invitation at my first private interview with the King, was one of unalloyed pleasure.  The agreeable and high-toned companionship of that happy period will not readily fade from my remembrance; it was a bright era in my existence, and would have been flood of sunshine undimmed and cloudless, if it had occurred in the wild desert of a struggling life.

     From Berlin I returned to London, from whence, after a brief sojourn, I posted for  Liverpool and embarked for New York.

     Speaking of crossing from Europe to America, I neglected to mention that on one of my earlier trips across I met the Chaplain of Congress, the celebrated blind preacher, the Rev. Mr. Milburn, one of the most earnest and eloquent divines that it has ever been my fortune to listen to.  A pious and indefatigable worker in the cause of Christianity, there is, nevertheless, no vestige of the ascetic or bigoted zealot in his composition; on the contrary his is the spirit of a pure philanthropist, whose view of human nature is fraught with kindness and benevolence.  I thought, while listening to his dispassionate yet forcible reasoning, that Providence, which had deprived him of physical sight, had more than compensated him by the acuteness of his mental vision.












At and about London.



     In this age of travel and curiosity, when so many thousands go to Europe, some brief reminiscences of my travels in the Old World may be somewhat interesting.  All those intending to go abroad (and this is at least a hope with all intelligent Americans) will find it to their advantage to take a survey of some of the main routes of travel.  So I have thought best in this little book to include a few of my further reminiscences.

     London is, to Americans, the most interesting of all the great cities of the Old World, from the triple fact that it is the largest city of the civilized globe that in it, alone, of the capitals of Europe, the language is the same as our own, in that signs, directions, inscriptions, etc., can all be understood by the least learned visitor, and that, as mainly descended from the same people inhabiting it, the historical memorials involved are to some extent joint property.  The same fact, in some degree, exists as regards everything in England, but there is probably no other point, except possibly the neighborhood of Shakespeare’s birthplace, where it asserts itself as strongly as at and around the great capital.

     Scarcely any traveler but is advised that London lies on the Thames, at some fifty miles from the mouth of that river, and that it was a city when the Romans rules in Britain; but some may need to be reminded that it occupies both sides of that river, nearly in equal proportions, the northern section being comprised in the county of Middlesex, and the southern in that of Surrey; and that it has as many divisions as Philadelphia (formerly) or Boston under the different names of the city, Westminster, Marylebone, Finsbury, Lambeth, Tower Hamlets, Chelsea and Southwark.  It may be also necessary to give another reminder that the population of this immense human hive is now between 5,000,000 and 6,000,000; and that the city and suburbs (comprised within the above designations) cover a space of about twelve miles by ten, or about one hundred and twenty square miles, so that a city of the size of New York could be cut away from one side of it without leaving any greater proportional mark than would the cutting away of Yorkville and Harlem from the American commercial metropolis.

     The cab system of London (though the grumbling John Bulls are always faulting it) is the best in the world, or only rivaled by that of Paris.  Carriages for larger parties, or those who wish to ride more luxuriously, can be obtained for about one-third what the same vehicles cost in New York.

     Westminster Abbey is probably the first object of interest in London, from the number of great dead lying within its walls.  The objects of most marked interest in the Abbey are the noble building itself, with its wonderful aisles, arches and forests of noble columns; the tomb of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Dryden and the other poets, in poets’ corner; the splendid architecture of Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, stalls and banners of the Knights of the Bath there, and magnificent tomb of the founder, of Queen Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, etc.; the golden-mosaicked old altar-tomb of Edward the Confessor, in the chapel of the same name, with the tombs of Edward the First, Henry the Fifth and other warrior kings; the weapons carried by some of them, and the coronation chair in which every sovereign of England since William the Conqueror has been crowned, with the old Scottish Scon-stone (coronation-stone) set in the bottom of one of them.  The tombs of Miss Nightingale, Fox, Pitt, the Duke of Argyle, and hundreds of long-departed kings and nobles will also command attention.

    The Houses of Parliament (Westminster Palace) may well supply the next object of interest, the splendid structure towering immediately over the Abbey.  The chambers of the Lords and Commons should both be seen, with the Queen’s Throne in the former, and the paintings and fine bas-reliefs in some of the other rooms of the building.

     The Tower of London is the next object of interest, if it does not take precedence of the last mentioned.  It stands on the Thames side, near London Bridge.  The leading attractions in this wonderful cluster of fortifications are to be found in the Traitors’ Gate, seen on entering, through which the accused used to be taken in from boats on the river; the window of the Bloody Tower (seen from without), just within which the two princes are said to have been smothered by order of Richard the Third; the Horse Armory (in the White Tower), in which effigies of half the dead sovereigns ride on horseback in full armor; Queen Elizabeth’s Armory, in the same tower, where Sir Walter Raleigh was so long confined, and where the fatal axe and block are yet to be seen, by and on which fell so many royal and noble heads; the Jewel Tower, where the regalia of England, crown, scepter, sword, etc., are shown in an iron cage; the Beauchamp tower, where so many noble captives languished away their lives; the tremendous collection of ancient and modern arms and armor, etc.  The Tower represents more than eight hundred years of English history, and not even London has a more powerful attraction to the intelligent traveler.

     St. Paul’s is simply the nobles and grandest church pile on earth, except St. Peter’s at Rome.  It is a wonderful sight to stand within the dome and look up four hundred feet to the angels that really seem to be flying in the blue sky.  It has some fine monuments, and in the crypt below are the resting places of Wellington and Nelson, and the funeral car of the former.

     The British Museum is a noble building, containing the most wonderful and varied collection from books to statues, medals, relics and objects of natural history from all ages and all countries ever gathered in any one place upon earth; and no word in addition here could increase the force of such a statement or add to the knowledge of the visitor, who will be wise, however, to pay earliest attention to the great reading room, the Layard stones from Assyria, the letters and autographs of eminent persons, the collection of seals, British antiquities, etc.

     The Crystal Palace at Sydenham rivals the British Museum in the wonderful variety of its collection; and yet nothing within the building can compare with the wonderful size and beauty of the erection of glass and iron itself.  The grounds are only second to the building in beauty.

     The National Gallery (occupying the north of Trafalgar Square) and the South Kensington Museum, both supply interesting collections of pictures, which should be seen by art lovers.

     The largest seaport in the world lies on the north side of the river Mersey, in South Lancashire, England.

     Although the city is large, populous, and in some respects handsome, it is the magnificent system of docks and varied shipping interests that attract attention.

     There are no architectural sights, nor scarcely any monuments worthy of note as compared with other large cities of England, or indeed any other of the old countries.  But it might be well to call attention to the recently erected equestrian statue of the Prince Consort, in from of St. George’s Hall; that of Nelson, by the Exchange; that of George the Third, at London Road, etc.  There is nothing about their private residences or mercantile buildings that would invite inspection.

     The most complete and costly docks in the world are to be seen here, and they required a more extended notice than my space will permit me to give them.  They were constructed after years of labor at a cost of nearly £20,000,000—equal to $100,000,000—and extend some six miles, though neither come within the range of the first curiosities of London.

     London theatres are very numerous and celebrated for the splendor of their entertainments, though scarcely one of them but is dark, dingy and uncomfortable to those familiar with the handsome entrances and fine lights of the American houses.  The Haymarket, Adelphi or Olympic, and Princess’s are the best, at any one of which the time spent is not likely to be thrown away, especially with the opportunities which performances supply for studying the play-going habits and manners of the Londoners.

     Stratford-on-Avon, the home and burial place of Shakespeare, and the pilgrimage of more of the worshipers of genius than possibly any other single spot on the globe, is a quiet, lazy, old town, with the Avon flowing gently through it, and the whole atmosphere seeming that of centuries ago.

     Shakespeare’s birth-place, and humble old timber and plaster building, partially restored and well preserved, on Henley street is so well-known as to all its characteristics that nothing more need be said than that the birth room is found on the second floor front, with its window covered in inscriptions like the walls, and that there is a Shakespeare museum attached in the more modern part of the building.




On to Paris.



     Although there are many other routes, I usually take the line by Newhaven and Dieppe, as by this route both Dieppe and Rouen, two of the handsomest old cities of France, can be seen.

     Crossing the Channel from Newhaven, the first object of interest is to be found in the high piers, with narrow entrance and gaudily-gilded colossal crucifixes on them, of the very old French town of Dieppe, the port at which the English kings were in the habit of landing in their wars with France, and to which Sir William Wallace, the hero of Scotland, is said to have brought the pirate Longueville after capturing him off the harbor.  We find here the old Chateau de Dieppe (Castle) on the hill to the west, said to have been founded by Charlemagne; the bathing grounds, with their fine Etablissement des Baines (dancing and gambling house); the splendid hotels, with their handsome gardens and lawns; some of the narrow streets with very old houses; the confined dock basins; the handsome old churches of St. Jacques and St. Remi, etc.

     Away from Dieppe, the railway crossed one of the loveliest lines of Lower Normandy, with willowed water-courses, picturesque hills, valleys, chateaux and cottages, passing the chateau-dominated old town of Monville on the left, and striking the pleasant winding Seine, but half an hour before stopping at Rouen, after Paris, unquestionably the most interesting city in France, from historical associations, architecture and beauty of location.  It lies on the north bank of the Seine, with rolling hills westward; has extensive cotton manufactories stretching along the river, and historically recalls (principally) Henry B., who besieged it for nearly a year; Joan of Arc, who was burned here, and the Regent Duke of Bedford, who burned her.  In architecture and relics it is even richer; for the Cathedral and Abbey Church of St. Ouen dispute with Notre Dame, at Paris, the claim of being the most magnificent of churches, while the great stained glass windows of St. Ouen certainly excel either, and the monuments of the Cathedral include those of Rollo, first Duke of Normandy, Richard Coeur de Lion, Prince Henry, and many others; in the Place de la Pucelle is to be seen the spot where Joan of Arc was burned by the English; in the Church of St Gervais is remarked the spot where William the Conqueror died; and in the Museum of Antiquities are to be found the heart of Coeur de Lion (what little remains of it) in a glass casket, charters signed by William before Hastings, etc.

     We resume our route to Paris, entering the city from the northeast.  The first object meeting the eye, coming near, is the Forth of Vallerien, one link of the immense and formidable chain of fortifications surrounding the city, by which it could be laid in ashes or put under contribution within two hours.  This is seen to the right, before the city is fairly visible.  Then the city on the left, with their pleasant shade and suggestions of luxurious residences.  And then, as the next curve of the railway is rounded, the city itself seeming to overtop it all which the tourist scarcely needs to be told, is the Arc d’Etoile, most imposing of all the monuments of Europe.  The Seine (river), its quays and bridges.  The first is very small, muddy and historically interesting; the second are very high, massive and worth study for the sake of their cost, the charming walks and drives alon them, the arrangements for getting to the docks below, the baths along their sides, etc.; and the third are very numerous and durable, spanning the river at all points in front of the city, as well as from the Ile de la Cité (City Island), and the Ile St. Louis, lyin above it.  Next we come to the Palace of the Tuilleries (outside), the residence of the Emperor; the scene of many historical events, including two attacks and captures by the populace at the dethroning of Louis XVI., in 1793, and Louis Phillipe in 1848, and the exponent of more orders in architecture, and a better effect produced by an indiscriminate jumble than any one not a madman could have believed.

     Greatly are to be admired the gardens of the Tuilleries, extended and beautifully shaded grounds lying immediately in front of the palace, with statuary of rare merit, fountains, etc., supplying one of the favorite promenades to Parisians of all classes and ages, and especially to children with their nurses.  Next to the Place de la Concorde, connecting the gardens with the Champs Elysées, is an open space with splendid fountains and colossal statuary, and with the great red granite Obelisk of Luxor in the midst, brought from Thebes, in Egypt, at immense expense, and standing on the very spot where during the early part of the Reign of Terror, stood the guillotine on which perished Louis XVI., his sister Marie Antoinette and twenty-eight hundred others.  Next we go into the Champs Elysées (Elysian Fields), adjoining the Place de la Concorde on the west, the great home pleasure ground of Paris, covering forty acres, bordering on the Seine and extending to the Arc d’Etoile at the extreme western point.  It is magnificently shaded; laid out with walks; cut through its whole length by the Avenue des Champs Elysées, through which all the aristocratic carriages drive every afternoon, going to or returning from the Bois de Boulogne; full of arrangements for out-door amusements, and studded at every turn with café chantantes (singing coffee houses), cafés for refreshments, etc.; and with thousands of chairs, kept for cheap hire by the hour in which the tourist can sit when tired and see the procession of fashion and oddity roll by.  Before leaving the Champs a glimpse should be caught of the Elysée Napoleon, an old palace, once the Elysée Bourbon, at the north side where Napoleon signed his abdication, while the whole building has had an intimate connection with French history.

     Return towards the centre of the city, if boarding there, as supposed, by the Column in the Place Vendôme, a splendidly spirally-wreathed pillar, erected by Napoleon in honor of his victories, and covered with emblematic figures of his campaigns, as well as topped with a figure of the Emperor.  The Madeleine is one of the handsomest churches in Paris or the world—pure Grecian, with surrounding of splendid columns and statues in niches outside; and with elaborate architecture, marvelously rich altars and altar services, and some chefs d’oeuvres in painting and sculpture over altars and employed as altar-pieces.  The Boulevards are very wide, tree-bordered streets, commending at the Madeleine on the west, and running, with different names, across and around the principal portions of Paris, to the Place de la Bastille, at the east.  Palais Royal, once a royal palace, as its name implies, and still retaining the galleries and immense and beautiful gardens of that occupation, within its extensive quadrangle is now the most extensive collection of shops and restaurants in the world.

     The Church of St. Roch is known as the place on the stil-standing steps of which took place one of the bloodiest fights of the Revolution (that of the 13th Ven démiaire).  The church has the distinction of giving the best music in Paris, of possessing much internal beauty and splendor, and of showing many fine pictures, among others a “St. Roch Preaching,” by Ary Scheffer, with the most wonderful of golden lights shed on it through the stained glass above.  The Palace of Justice is a fine old building, with many historical reminiscences, and the Morgue is the celebrated dead house in which the bodies of people “found drowned” are exhibited for identification.

     Notre Dame is famous as one of the architectural glories of Paris and the world, with two immense square towers, wonderful architectural effects in the portals and whole elaborate front, and some of the finest Gothic arches in Europe in the vast interior.  Notre Dame has, in addition, a wealth of stained glass windows of rare size and excellence; some splendid side chapels; a magnificent high altar, at which Napoleon and Josephine were crowned.  The Louvre was once a royal palace, but it is now the most extensive museum in the world (with perhaps the exception of the British), adjoining the Palace of the Tuilleries on the east, and of course reached on foot.  Among its notable features, apart from the extent and beauty of the building itself, will be found the great picture gallery, filled with rare paintings, sculpture and curiosities, is said to be about ten miles, affording one of the costliest and most celebrated of collections.   Chief among these is the Grand Gallery, filled with works by the great painters of antiquity, scarcely a notable name unrepresented, and the whole rivaling the galleries of the Vatican at Rome and Escurial at Madrid.  Not many visitors to Paris need to be told that Sunday is the liveliest day of the week, with everything opened to the gay; while the more serious can find service in all the churches and splendid choral services in the principal ones.






Italian Sketches.



     While in Rome I had many cordial invitations from some of the most distinguished Princes of the Church.  The Rector of the American College, Rev. Dr. Hostlot, invited me to dine with him, and gave me letters of introduction to several Cardinals, and also a letter to the Rector of the Irish College, Rev. Dr. Kirby.  I received complimentary letters from McCay, Hooker & Co., American bankers, and met Bishop McQuade, of Rochester, N. Y., in company with Father Curran, of St. Andrew’s Church, New York, and several clergymen from Montreal, all esteemed acquaintances of mine.

     The highest honor I received during my sojourn in Rome was an invitation to visit the Vatican, where His Holiness Pope Leo granted me an audience.  (On a former visit to Rome I had the honor of an interview with Pope Pius IX.)

     I also attended one of King Humbert’s levees, and had the pleasure of being presented to Her Imperial Highness, Queen Marguerette.

     One of the attaches of the English Embassy, a banker, had considerable correspondence with me, and among my papers I find the following letter:


     A. McBean & Co. present their compliments to Dr. Francis Tumblety, and beg leave to inform him that their London correspondent has advised the payment of his deposit receipt with the National Bank.

     ROME, December 28, 1880.


     Nearly every step in that land of natural beauty and artistic and historic interest is more or less a pilgrimage.  Rome is on the little river Tibert, something less than twenty miles from its mouth, with the Seven Hills underlying it, the Papal residence within it, a population of about 200,000.  It has so vast and varied a history, from the time when Romulus, its founder, was (or was not) suckled by a wolf, and that time, not lon after, when its male population, very wife-hungry, carried off the Sabine women to fill that office—that the brain reels in the very attempt to grasp rather what it has seen.  Once the pagan capital of the world, then the Christian, the besieged and taken, the triumphant, the abhorred, the idolized, the knelt-to by kings and defied by men with no power; the city which has alternately enlightened and enslaved mankind, in letters, art and religion a marvel; it is scarcely wonderful that pilgrims from all climes flock to it to-day as they have flocked for nearly two thousand years, and that it is reckoned the end and goal of European travel, the same as Jerusalem is in the East.

     It has already been said that scarcely a foot of Italian soil is other than a pilgrimage; but the remark applies with tenfold force to Rome, where the traveler is surrounded by so many relics of antiquity and glories of art that each one almost takes away from the importance of the other.  In no place in Europe, meanwhile, is intelligent guidance more necessary to a hurried traveler than at and around the Eternal City; a great advantage is the fact that the English and Americans have partially taken possession of Rome, as they have almost entirely taken possession of Paris.

     First among its curiosities, of course, comes St. Peter’s, the largest church in the world, built on the site where once stood a temple of Jupiter.  The first structure on the spot is said to have been an oratory built within the first century, on the burial place of St. Peter, and the first church erection, done by Constantine the Great, of course, after his miraculous conversion.

     The present building was commenced under Pope Julius II., in the 16th century; but the wonderful dome is ascribed to a much later period to Michael Angelo.  The immense colonnades which sweep round on either side from the piazza (enclosing a space of nearly eight hundred feet), were designed by Bernini, and the front is credited to Carlo Maderno, who improved upon the plans of Michael Angelo, after a not very rare system of altering at whatever cost.

     Some faint idea may be formed of its immense size by a few figures, from which it appears that the façadé (or front) is 379 feet long and 148½ high; that the full length of the interior is 613 feet (a little more than three blocks of a New York street); the length of the transepts (cross) 466½ ; the height of the naves, 152½ ; the interior diameter of the great dome which crowns it, 139, and the exterior, 195½; the height from the pavement to the base of the lantern, 405, and to the top of the cross, 468.

     The curious calculation was made, some years ago, that a dozen churches of the size of New York Trinity could be set within it, the fronts and steeples grouped around in a close circle, and there would be abundant room, while the top of the cluster of spires would not reach within a hundred feet of the inside of the dome.

     The sensation created by the great church from without, is really indescribable, as it towers over the city on approach, at an incalculable distance; but it is doubtful whether the impression, standing within under the mighty dome and in the midst of its splendors in ornamentations, wealth of bronze, colored marbles, altar decorations and monuments, is not even more overwhelming than the outer view.  Those who ascend the dome say that the view from the top is magnificent beyond comparison.  Rome, the Tiber, the Appian Way, the Campagno, the distant sea, all seeming at the very feet, and humanity in the street looking like so many little crawling insects.

     Of course the crowning charm of St. Peter’s is found in the religious services and the rare music, which forms so large a part of them.  The best of these, however, are only attainable at a few periods in the year, and most of them in the winter and early spring.  The most noted of these are the Grand Masses on Christmas and New Year’s Day, and the ceremonies which follow throughout the month and extend into February.

     The number of other churches in and about Rome in literally legion.  They cannot all be visited except by those who tarry long.

     The Vatican is the Capital of Rome and palace of the Popes, lying to the right of St. Peter’s and entered by the right colonnade of that edifice.  The number of chambers in the three stories and adjoining buildings are variously estimated at 5,000 to 13,000; and the cluster certainly covers a space of some 1,200 feet in length by 1,000 feet in breadth.  In the galleries of the Vatican are gathered the grandest works of art of a world.  Raphael’s greatest works are here in fresco and in oil, headed by his “Transfiguration;” besides many other masterpieces of other artists.  But long before traversing and inspecting all these, the tourist will have turned to the special and mighty antiquities of Rome: To the walls, a part of them so very old, so many times destroyed and rebuilt, and with their odd old fortifications.  Then would come the bridges, nearly all ancient.  The Seven Hills, the Forum, the Capitol, the Tarpeian Rock.  Then to the Colisseum.  This should be seen by daylight, and, if possible, by moonlight, beholding at once the remains of the mightiest structure ever raised by the hand of man, the Pyramids alone excepted—and the record of a historical cruelty unparalleled even in thought.  The Colisseum is known to have been built in honor of Titus, conqueror of Jerusalem, and tradition says that 60,000 captive Jews were engaged for ten years upon it, while at its inauguration, A. D. 71, 5,000 animals and 10,000 of those less valuable animals, captives, were slain.

     It is alleged to have given seats to 87,000 spectators; and even that may be possible, when it is remembered that the circumference is 1,641 feet, and the height of the outer wall 187, the whole covering six acres.  There are a thousand other subjects of interest in or about Rome, but when the tourist has seen these, and the gigantic Castle of St. Angelo (once Hadrian’s Tomb); the Pantheon, in wonderful preservation, though built by Agrippa, about A. D. 30 or 40, as the monument of old Roman genius, but now doubly sacred as containing the tomb of Raphael; the Arch of Titus and baths of the same emperor, with a few hundred ruined templates, etc., and driven out on the Appian way to Albano and its lake, viewing the interesting remains studding the whole Campagne, and finally has visited a few of the sculptors’ studios, he may be said to have “done” Rome quite as well as can be expected of the short trip traveler.

     Naples, on the bay of the same name, is now the largest city in Italy, with nearly a million inhabitants, and for a long time one of the most popular resorts of tourists and invalids.

     The buildings of most interest are the Royal Palace, some three hundred years old; the Castle of St. Elmo, once very formidable and feared by the inhabitants, but now used for barracks; the Musea Nazionale, with its great collection of antiquities from Pompeii and Herculaneum, and the Farnse collection from Rome, which are very remarkable; the Cathedral, dating from 1272 to 1420; the church of Santa Chiara, the burying place of the Neapolitan Bourbons; and San Domenico, considered the handsomest church in Naples.  Very much of the interest of sojourn at Naples, however, will be found entirely removed from the city itself.  The lovely bay of Naples is considered one of the finest, in every point of view, in the world.

     Mount Vesuvius, lying a few miles east and south of the city, is in full view and easily reached.  Pompeii and Herculaneum, the two buried by an eruption of the before-named volcano, in A. D. 79, if the history of the affair is to be credited.

     The theatre, really an “amphitheatre,” is the only monument enough dug out to be recognizable at Herculaneum; but at Pompeii there are very many curiosities, enough to occupy hours of examination, among which, perhaps, the most interesting will be found the House of Diomed; the Street of the Tombs, the City Gate, with the sentry-box where the soldier was found dead on duty, the City Walls, the Street of Abundance, Forum, Amphitheatre, etc.

     Genoa, the City of Palaces, is on the gulf of the same name.  The most interesting places are the Palazzo Brignole Sale, with many fine pictures; the Doria Tursi, with interesting reminders of Columbus (native of Genoa), the Doria and Balbi, both containing pictures; the Ducale, once the residence of the Dukes of Genoa, the Reale and Pallavecini, also filled with fine pictures.

     Venice, on the Adriatic, once the mistress of the commerce and half the power of Europe, is one of the grandest sources of mediaeval history, and one of the oddest localities in geography, from the fact that its streets are canals, its conveyances are gondolas (boats), and there is not a house within its bounds.

     Venice is literally crammed with objects of interest, principally historical, but many artistic; and only the briefest of resumés can be made of the more interesting.  First in importance comes the Piazza de San Marco (Place of St. Marc), an oblong square in the centre of the city, with colonnades all around it.  At the east end stands the Church of St. Marc, commenced in 977, finished in 1111.  Near it stands the Clock Tower, and on the opposite side of the square the Great Libreria (Library), and close beside that the Campanile (Bell Tower), dating back to 902.

     Between the Library and the landing place stand the two columns, of granite, so often seen in pictures, the one surrounded by the Winged Lion of St. Marc and the other by a statue of St. Theodorus.

     Florence is on the river Arno, and in the midst of the plentiful valley to which the river gives name, the Val Arno.  It is divided by the Arno, something after the fashion of London and Paris, and the communication is made via four handsome bridges within the city limits and two in the suburbs.  There are walls entirely surrounding it—ancient, but rebuilt, with eight gates and two fortresses (Da Basso, north, and Dé Belvedere, south), breaking the line.  One of the finest promenades on the globe, the quay called The Laeing Arno, extends along the north bank of the river, the houses on the south side literally overhanging the water, and the whole city is so embowered in trees and so enchanting in every detail of the quietly picturesque, that the tourist will have little difficulty in agreeing with the dictum which assigns it the place of the handsomest city in Europe.

     Milan is a walled town of great antiquity.  It has many beauties, but far beyond the rest in splendor stands the Duomo (Cathedral), commenced in 1387, and scarcely yet finished.  It is built of white marble and is of immense size, with a central tower, spire, and a perfect “forest of pinnacles” which gives it an indescribably light and airy effect in spite of its gigantic bulk.  It has some thousands of statues in its outside ornamentation, and is considered the finest specimen of Gothic in Italy and one of the grandest structures in the world.  There are other very interesting buildings, but space will not allow further description.

     Lake Como, third of the Italian lakes in size, but by many thought the first in beauty, surrounded by bold hills and its shores doted with luxurious villas and rich with olive groves and vineyards, while it is the very paradise of pleasure seekers in rowing and sailing.

     Nice, on the Gulf of Genoa, formerly belonging to Sardinia, but now to France, has some interesting antiquities, much beauty of location, and a peculiarly soft climate, making it a delightful sanitarium of invalids.






The Beauties of Spain.



     Madrid is the capital of Spain, standing in the middle of a plain nearly twenty-five hundred feet above the level of the sea (boasting to be “the highest capital in Europe”), with a population approaching half a million.  The Royal Palace is an immense and imposing pile, built by Philip V., covering a space of 470 feet in each direction by one hundred feet in height, and is considered one of the handsomest royal residences in the world.  The interior is said to be rich in statues and marbles, and in the gorgeousness of the throne room.  A fine statue of Philip IV. stands in the gardens adjoining.

     A bull-fight may be witnessed within almost any three days of stay in Madrid, in the Plaza de Toros, an amphitheatre in the outskirts, by any who are desirous of feasting themselves with a little extra brutality.





     Athens is the capital of Greece, and historically as well as artistically one of the most interesting cities on the globe.  Its history is too well known, as connected with science, the arts and letters, to need even the briefest reference.  Among the most notable of the great architectural remains which make Athens the wonder of the world, are the ruined Parthenon, or Temple of Minerva; the Acropolis; Mars Hill, where St. Paul preached to the “too superstitious” men of Athens; the Tower of the Winds; the Arc of Hadrian; the Temple of Jupiter Olympus, etc.  No one sojourning any time at Athens should fail to visit the battle-field of Marathon, in the immediate neighborhood.







     Constantinople, the capital of the Turkish Empire, with nearly or quite a million inhabitants, bears the same relation in the East as that is borne by Rome to Western Europe.  It was originally “Byzantium,” from its Greek founder, Byzas, but had little importance, until refounded by the Emperor Constantine, and made the capital of the Eastern Empire in the fourth century.  It has filled quite as large a space in history as even Rome; has been fought over, around and about, nearly as much, even in comparison to time, as the City of Mexico; has been repeatedly besieged, and twice captured; once in 1204 by the Second Crusaders, and again in 1453 by the Turks, since which time is has been in Mohammedan possession and supplied the Turkish capital.  Constantinople is considered to be one of the loveliest cities in situation on the globe, the Golden Horn forming a magnificent harbor, and the shaded suburbs making a fine background to the tall spires of the many mosques, which have replaced the Christian churches.

     Within, however, the city is dirty, ill-laid out and badly built.  The old walls still exist, with seven of the original forty-three gates, and the suburbs of Pera, Galata and Tophana have a certain beauty, even near, especially the two former, where most foreigners reside.

     The leading objects of interest are the bazaars where Oriental trade may be seen in all its oddity and shiftlessness.

     Smyrna, in Asiatic Turkey, is the most important commercial city in Asia Minor, where, for the first time, the Orient may be seen in its full glory.  The city is squalid, the society and trading community mixed of all Eastern nations, and figs so plentiful that they become almost a “drug in the market.”

     Beirut, in Syria, a very old town of no particular present consequence, except as a port, though it has historical recollections as the Greek Berytus, is a noted seat of learning, and has interest, also, in connection with the crusades.  At Beirut horses and guides will be procured across the Syrian plains to the mighty and mafnigicent ruins of Baalbec, by far the most ponderous among the most interesting of the early architectural remains of the East, dwarfing all others in the weight of the single stones and the extent of labor (some of the wall stones measure each 30 feet long, 15 feet wide, 13 feet deep), thrown together in a limited space in the Temple of the Sun, that of Jupiter and the Circular Temple.

     Damascus is called the oldest city in the world, and was founded according to tradition, by Uz, the grandson of Noah, some 4,000 or 4,500 years ago.  It was, alternately, the Syrian capital of the Babylonians and the Persians, the Romans, the Saracens, and now the Turks.  It is especially noted for its flat-roofed houses (for dormitory purposes), mean without but handsome within, for its beautiful gardens, for its bazaars, and as having for centuries produced the peculiarly tempered swords known as Damascus blades, as well as the artistic work in metal polishing, known as damascening. 

     Jerusalem, the “Holy City,” as Rome has been called the “Eternal,” is filled with places held “holy” by all Christians.  First among them is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, on Mt. Calvary, covering the spot where the body of the Saviour was laid, as also (as alleged) that where he was crucified; the Garden of Gethsemane, the Mount of Olives, the site of Solomon’s Temple, and so many other spots and relics connected with sacred history, that a reminder of them would be only an insult.  That task may well be left in detail to the guides, who will be found quite sufficiently garrulous in a dozen languages.  Outside of and near the city will of course be visited the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the town of Bethany, etc., and a mere extended excursion occupying three days may be made to the Dead Sea and the Jordan, where it enters that remarkable lake. 

     From Jerusalem to the coast the way will still be pursued with guides and horses.  Jaffa, on the coast of Syria, has a bad harbor, difficult of landing in rough weather; and it has no other special interest to travelers than the still remaining house of Simon the Tanner, where St. Peter had his vision.

     Alexandria, in Egypt, at the western mouth of the Nile, is the seaport and commercial city of that nation founded, as the name implies, by Alexander the Great, and splendidly situated between the mouth and Lake Mareotis, while a canal connects it with the Rosette mouth of the river.

     It has two ports, the old harbor on the west, and the new on the east, and owes its principal modern importance to the fact of being the landing place of all the many great lines of steamers on the route to India, and to and from the different ports of the Mediterranean.

     Of course it has a world of antique history, as the name of its founder recalls, as also the fact that it possessed the celebrated Alexandrian Library, burned by an ignorant tyrant.  It has few curiosities, but some of the highest interest, including the celebrated Pompey’s Pillar, at the south side, near the walls erected in honor of the Emperor Diocletian A. D. 296, the Pacha’s Palace, Catacombs, etc.  A very mixed society will be found at Alexandria, but scarcely more oriental than at Marseilles, and the city may be said to be more than half European.

     Cairo is the chief city and capital of Egypt, with nearly half a million of inhabitants, and all oriental characteristics exaggerated, no place on earth showing a greater variety in the costumes of the people, and none more oddity in narrow and dirty streets, odd mosques, and everything ultra-Mussulumanish.

     One of the first visits at Cairo should be paid to the citadel to catch the magnificent view of the Nile, the Pyramids, the four hundred mosques of the city, the distant desert, etc.   Some of the splendid mosques might be visited, especially the new one of Mehemet Ali, the old one of Taylóon, Sultan Hassan, Sultan Kalóon; some of the palaces, among others those of Mehemet Ali and Ibrahim Pacha and Joseph’s Well, supposed to have been hewn in the rock under direction of the son of Jacob when ruling Egypt.  There are very fine gardens surrounding the walls.

     The most indispensable of excursions from Cairo is that to the Pyramids, about twelve miles either way—made on donkey back with guides.

     Too much observation and admiration cannot well be bestowed upon the master pile of Cheops, with its two lesser companions and six very much smaller.  Near the Pyramids is the wonderful Sphinx, and not far distant, on the Nile bank, are the few scattered ruins that remain of the once mighty city of Memphis.

     Malta, the celebrated Mediterranean island of Great Britain, lying about fifty miles southward of Sicily, has a most interesting history, especially in connection with the knights of St. John, who so long held it against the Turks.  Its port, Valetta, has a fine harbor; is splendidly fortified, and shows many remains of the old war-like times; while in the Palace of the Grand master may be found a splendid collection of old arms and trophies.  The armory has fine pictures by Maltese painters, and these and the Church of St. John, the Grotto of St. Paul, the catacomb of St. Paul, about fill the complement of the sights of the city.






Germany and Belgium.



     All that is either possible or needful is merely to name the principal places of interest.  Baden-Baden, formerly noted as the chief gambling resort of Europe, is most beautifully located in a valley at the foot of the Black Forest.  It has a music pavilion where some of the finest bands in Germany play.  It has springs which are much sought after for their medicinal properties.  From Baden-Baden the first place of importance is Heidelberg, still in Baden, on the south bank of the Neckar, a confluent of the Rhine.  This is considered one of the handsomest towns in Germany.  The principal curiosities in the town are the University; the Castle, half ruined; the Church of the Holy Ghost, which has the odd peculiarity of being partitioned in the centre, so that Catholics and Protestants can hold service at the same time.  From Heidelberg, passing through fine Rhenish scenery, vineyards, etc., we reach Frankfort-on-the-Main, lying, as its name indicates, on the river Main, another confluent of the Rhine.  This city is one of the oldest and most interesting of Germany, alike for its old buildings, its rich historical associations, and its having been for so many centuries one of the great moneyed centres of Europe.

     The first object of interest is the Cathedral, with unfinished tower, dating back to the thirteenth century; some fine monuments, especially those of Emperors Gunther and Rudolph, will be found here.

     The Sate Museum and Academy of Painting show many fine works of art.

     The house and statue of Goethe, who was born here, are seen, and it is in this city the Rothschild family had their beginning.  Their house is still there shown.

     The river Rhine calls for some attention.  Nearly all of this river, from Mayence to Cologne, is hilly and rocky-banked, something like the Hudson in its wilder passes, picturesque in effect, with cities, towns and castles dotting its banks.


“Where foams and flows the glorious Rhine,

     Many a ruin wan and gray,

O’erlooks the cornfield and the vine,

     Majestic in its dark decay.

Among their dim clouds, long ago,

They mocked the battles that raged below.”


     The next especially interesting city is that of Cologne, on the left bank of the Rhine, containing some 120,000 inhabitants, and lying along the river course in a crescent, bending outward.  It is very old, very picturesque in its old houses and river frontage; very dirty and very celebrated as having given name to the Cologne water, not one millionth part of which ever saw it.

     Berlin, the capital of Prussia, is one of the largest, handsomest, and now one of the most powerful, of all the capitals of Europe.  It contains nearly a million inhabitants; is some twelve miles in circumference; holds in garrison from 20,000 to 50,000 soldiers, supplies one street, “Unter den Linden,” lined with palaces, and almost matchless in fragrant shade.  It has many handsome monuments, among which the colossal equestrian one of Frederick the Great stands without a superior in Europe; also a museum especially rich in works of art, ranking perhaps second in Europe.  It furnishes a world of other attractions, in its Royal Palace, Opera House, Arsenal and splendid walks and drives.

     Hamburg, on the Elbe, is one of the leading free cities of Germany, with a world of industry and manufactures, and a heavy shipping trade; while the city has a perfect circumvallation of gardens and is tasteful and handsome.  Its most attractive buildings are the Exchange and the churches of St. Peter and St. Michael, the latter with a tower of 460 feet, and one of the finest organs in Germany.

     Brussels, the capital of Belgium, is beautifully situated on rising ground beside the river Seine, a southern branch of the Scheldt—considered one of the best shaded cities and handsomest residences in Europe.  It has many attractions, in the Palace and Park of the King of Belgium; the Parliament Houses; the Hôtel de Ville, very old and fine, with an enormous pyramidal town nearly four hundred feet in height; the Old Palace, with its great variety of Rubens’ and other pictures.  The fine old churches, St. Gudele, La Chapelle, Bon Secours, etc.  There are some excellent characteristic fountains, great carpet and lace manufactories, etc.

     The battle-field of Waterloo is about twelve miles from the city, where the destiny of Europe is believed to have been decided in the final defeat of Napoleon by Wellington and Blucher on the memorable 18th day of June, 1815.

     Antwerp, on the river Scheldt, is about half the size of Brussels, and second town of Belgium in importance—formerly the first.  It has some shipping and foreign trade and many buildings of great cost and beauty.  Its chief attractions are to be found in the immense cathedral, of magnificent architecture.  One of its two towers is among the highest and most delicately furnished in the world.  Interest will be taken in the iron canopy, at the foot of the Cathedral tower, the work of Quéntui Matsys, the blacksmith painter; in Rubens’ “Descent from the Cross” (his greatest work), found within the Cathedral, with other noted works by the same master.  In the museum are the finest collections of pictures in Europe—especially rich in works of Rubens, Vandyke and other Flemish artists.  The churches of St. Augustine, St. Paul, St. Anthony, etc., and the house where Rubens lived and died, will repay a visit.






Switzerland and Bavaria.



     Geneva is charmingly situated on the southwestern point of Lake Geneva.  The views from it are perhaps unequaled by those from any other city on the globe.  The Lake, spreading away far to the north and east, the dark range of the Jura, and Mt. Blanc, and the snow range always visible in fine weather.  Thence on, passing through Berne, the capital of Switzerland, lying on the river Aar; then to Luzerne, capital of the canton of the same name.  Luzerne has also the charm of vieing with Geneva in loveliness of location.  The Rhigi is especially ascended to see the sunrise, which demands getting up at call and some shivering, but presents one of the noblest mountain top sunrise views on the globe, embracing all Switzerland and seemingly half the rest of the world.  This mountain is reached from Kussnacht on the north, alleged to be the scene of William Tell’s exploit with the apple, and where some memorials of the hero exist.

     Munich, capital of the Kingdom of Bavaria, lying on the river Aar, and challenging all the other capitals of Europe for beauty, especially since the thousand costly improvements made by the late King Louis I., friend of Lola Montez, who literally reigned here for a short period.  It is almost equally matchless in buildings, public grounds, and disputes with Paris, Rome and Madrid the palm as a repository of art.  The leading attractions are found in the Residenz, or Royal Palace, a part very old and a second part new and yet more elegant, with courts, fountains, statuary and antiquities, magnificent halls, etc.  From Munich one may go to Augsburg, a pleasant town on the river Lech, with many historical recollections.  The Bishop’s Palace still stands, in which the noted Augsburg Confession of Faith was framed, and where Luther held his interview with the Cardina Gaeta, before proceeding to the reformation extremities.

     Dresden is the capital of Saxony, on the river Elbe, with an old and a new town, something like Edinburgh, on two sides of the river, and a splendid bridge of 1,400 feet in length connecting.

     Dresden is so complete in situation, shade, walks and laying out as to hold the name of the “Northern Florence;” and it is considered by many the equal of any other capital in Europe, while in works of art, and especially in antique jewelery and fine sculptures, it is certainly unequaled.









Letters from Friends.



     Now let me say a word about the attacks which certain American newspapers recently made upon me, attacks that were as unfounded as the onslaught made on the great Irish leader.  While I was not in a position to defend myself, these papers continued their foul slanders, but my friends will readily see, from the foregoing pages and from the testimonials that follow, how utterly base and wholly groundless these aspersions were.  Like Parnell, I have emerged from the battle entirely unscathed with my social and professional standing unimpaired.  It is gratifying to recall the pleasure with which my friends welcomed me to my native land.  I treasure their tributes among the dearest things in my possession.  I subjoin some of the letters which I received:




NEW YORK, March 13, 1889.

     I have known Dr. Francis Tumblety for more than twenty years.  I have always found him to be a perfect gentleman, and I entertain a high opinion of his professional skill.





305 WEST 126TH ST.,

NEW YORK, March 9, 1889.

     I take pleasure in stating that I have personally known Dr. F. Tumblety for thirty years.  I believe him to be honest and worthy of the confidence of his fellow men.


T. B. P. W.







NEW YORK, March 25, 1889.

     Dear Doctor:—As you are in town now, I would like that you would call on me frequently, as it gives me great pleasure always to see you.  Having for so many years known you and found in you a gentleman of the highest integrity, it always gives me pleasure to be in your company.

     So do not fail to call.

Your friend,






58 WEST 45TH ST.,

NEW YORK, January 23, 1889.


     Dear Sir:—I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance for several years, and have always found you to be an honorable and straight-forward gentleman.  You have my sympathy in the foul attack made on your honorable character.

Very truly yours,





NEW YORK, January 24, 1889.


     Dear Sir:—I have been acquainted with you for nearly twenty years, and for about ten years of that time you were a frequent guest of the National Hotel when I was proprietor; I always found you courteous and gentlemanly in behavior and more than prompt in the payment of your dues.

     I have been very sorry to hear of your troubles of late; it seems to me that you are the victim of some malicious enemy.

Yours truly,

  2. 81 Cedar street.





February 1, 1889,


     Dear Sir:—I have known you for many years, and take pleasure in stating that I have always found you honest and straightforward, I trust that the unjust and unfounded attacks recently made upon you have not affected your health or annoyed you seriously.

Very truly yours,


Health Department, New York.





New York City, January 2, 1889.

F. TUMBLETY, Esq., M. D.

     Dear Sir:—I well remember the incident connected with our first acquaintance on board the City of Rome, on a trip a couple of years since, to the Old World.  This acquaintance soon ripened into a sincere friendship, which has continued until the present time.  I need not add that during your stay in this city I shall be glad to have you call at my office as often as may suit your convenience.

     I remain, my dear sir, very truly yours,


D. D., LL. D.




     This is to certify that I have known Dr. Tumblety for twenty-four years.  I know him only as a gentleman, honorable and upright.


567 Quincy street, Brooklyn.





     When I heard of the outrageous insult to which you had been subjected, I said to myself, “Who is safe?”  Having known you intimately for many years, I wish now, and here, to express my hearty respect and esteem, as well as confidence in your character, which during my acquaintance has always been that of a high-minded, noble gentleman.

Yours truly,


215 East Seventeenth street.






NEW YORK, April 2, 1889.


     I am in receipt of your letter of the 30th ult., and am much obliged for the comments contained.

Yours very truly,





     I have also received flattering letters from the following well-known gentlemen:



Miller’s Sanitarium, Twenty-sixth St. and Sixth Av.



Prop’r of Sinclair Hotel, Eighth St. and Broadway.



Lafayette Place.



No. 5 Third Av.



Guion Line.



753 Broadway.



Sweeney’s Hotel.



210-212 Sixth Av.



72 University Place.



Prop’r Cooper House, 80 East Ninth St.



Boot and Shoe Merchant, 109 East Ninth St.



Merchant, 366 Bowery.


W. J. LARMER, M. D.,

103 Varick St.



No. 13 City Hall.










     I have now accomplished a task which I consider due to my professional position, and to my standing in the high social circle into which it is my pride to find myself initiated.  I trust it will be seen that in the pursuit of my profession I have constantly and assiduously endeavored to perfect those studies in the peculiar branch of material medica which I have so successfully practiced, and which nature and common sense proclaim to the most reasonable and consistent.  My research, as the preceding pages show, has extended to other countries and climes, and although perfection is not attainable by our imperfect nature, I have nevertheless the pride of knowledge that my studies have not been in vain, nor my efforts in the cause of mankind fruitless.  Botanical nature presents a field for investigation so broad and comprehensive that the longest period of allotted life is too brief to comprehend her invaluable secrets; but, by transmission from the pioneers in this philanthropic and health-saving science, the philosophic student will eventually grasp and realize the breadth and depth of her beneficent laws.  With me her study has been, and will continue until the sunset of life, a labor of love.  The time-honored proverb that “Trust is mighty and will prevail,” has become more and more apparent, at least in my experience, since I first entered upon what I have realized as by no means an uneventful career.  Prejudice, that blind and bigoted monster of retrograde principle, is fading before the progress of truth and science, and the exemplification is in nothing more apparent than the experience of the past few years in the profession of medicine.  Nature, as represented by her true physician, is asserting her superiority over the ignorant usage and superstition of a bygone age.  Her life-giving remedies, though simple, are infallible, and to her student the expanse of her beneficence is boundless as the horizon fringed ocean.  In the faithful observance of her laws, so far as my professional practice has been at stake, I have been unswervingly consistent, and that my efforts have been commensurately successful the preceding pages will sufficiently prove.

     If certain journals have been unscrupulously and dastardly in their assaults, without a single peg to hang an accusation on, I can gratefully say that I have had nothing but the fairest treatment from the major portion of the press, both in this country and abroad.


Among the loathsome vices of the age,

The most revolting to the saint and sage,

Is that of slandering an honest name,

And robbing virtue of her spotless fame.


The slanderers and scandal-mongers are

More to be dreaded than the scourge of war;

Their poisoned tongues, like to the serpent’s fangs,

Fill many a heart with sad and bitter pangs.


And yet these vile caluminators try

Their guilt to hide, their deeds to justify.

They feign a grief—would rather not reveal

Their awful secrets which they can’t conceal.


The flying rumors, fathered as they rolled,

Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;

And all who told it added something new,

And all who heard it made enlargements, too—

In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew.



     Nota Bene.—My numerous friends and acquaintances and others, who may wish or have occasion to correspond with me, will please address all communications,

Post Office, New York City,

F. T., M. D.


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       Press Reports: Chicago Tribune - 22 November 1888 
       Press Reports: Chicago Tribune - 6 May 1865 
       Press Reports: Courier du Canada - 4 November 1857 
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       Press Reports: Daily Alta California - 23 November 1888 
       Press Reports: Daily Examiner - 20 November 1888 
       Press Reports: Daily Examiner - 23 November 1888 
       Press Reports: Daily Sun - 22 November 1888 
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       Press Reports: Evening Star - 20 November 1888 
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       Press Reports: Evening Star - 21 November 1888 
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       Press Reports: Evening Star - 4 December 1861 
       Press Reports: Fort Wayne Weekly Sentinel - 18 November 1890 
       Press Reports: Fort Wayne Weekly Sentinel - 19 November 1890 
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       Press Reports: Frederick News - 4 December 1888 
       Press Reports: Frederick News - 5 December 1888 
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       Press Reports: Manitoba Daily Free Press - 29 November 1888 
       Press Reports: Manitoba Daily Free Press - 4 December 1888 
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       Press Reports: Montreal Pilot - 16 September 1857 
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       Press Reports: Montreal Pilot - 24 September 1857 
       Press Reports: Montreal Pilot - 25 September 1857 
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       Press Reports: New York World - 19 November 1888 
       Press Reports: New York World - 2 December 1888 
       Press Reports: New York World - 4 December 1888 
       Press Reports: New York World - 5 December 1888 
       Press Reports: New York World - 6 December 1888 
       Press Reports: Newark Daily Advocate - 30 May 1903 
       Press Reports: Oakland Daily Evening Tribune - 8 December 1890 
       Press Reports: Olean Democrat - 3 January 1889 
       Press Reports: Olean Democrat - 7 February 1889 
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       Press Reports: San Francisco Daily Evening Bulletin - 23 November 1888 
       Press Reports: San Francisco Daily Morning Call - 23 November 1888 
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       Press Reports: San Francisco Daily Report - 23 November 1888 
       Press Reports: San Francisco Examiner - 25 November 1888 
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       Press Reports: The Headquarters - 12 February 1862 
       Press Reports: Times [London] - 1 December 1873 
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       Press Reports: Trenton Times - 19 November 1890 
       Press Reports: Trenton Times - 4 December 1888 
       Press Reports: Trenton Times - 6 December 1888 
       Press Reports: Vallejo Chronicle - 20 November 1888 
       Press Reports: Vanity Fair - 3 August 1861 
       Press Reports: Washington Post - 18 November 1890 
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       Victorian London: Batty Street