S. Weir Mitchell, 1829–1914: Philadelphia’s Literary Physician by Nancy Cervetti (review)

Physician, scientist, poet and novelist, philanthropist, outdoorsman. There are probably many men and women who could lay claim to such a diverse profile, but few of them could claim to have garnered accolades in all of those areas. Silas Weir Mitchell, described by Nancy Cervetti as a “risk taker and experimenter,” held such a reputation within his lifetime (1). For those who have studied Mitchell’s medical and literary careers, this biography will probably hold no big surprises, but for those who know of him as only a physician or a novelist—or not at all—Cervetti provides the most thorough examination of Mitchell’s life to date. Drawing on a wealth of primary material, she gives all readers a rich, nuanced portrait of this complex man who has been hailed as one of the first U.S. physiologists, toxicologists, immunologists, and neurologists, and even, according to some, psychiatrists.

Mitchell was born into a family of physicians, but he initially showed little interest in following in his father’s, grandfather’s, and uncles’ footsteps. A frail, short-tempered, fun-loving and word-loving child, Mitchell often felt stifled by his family’s stern Protestantism. He entered medicine reluctantly, hard-pressed to imagine matching his father’s mettle, but while he was continuing his studies in Paris, Mitchell’s goals and confidence underwent a sea change. He discovered a joy in living that, throughout his life, he seemed to acquire only when in Europe or on camping trips, and he began to see flaws in his idolized father’s character. He discovered the world of medical research and saw an exciting path to pursue in his chosen profession. Shortly after his return to Philadelphia, his father died, making Mitchell the head of a large, financially strained household. Mitchell rose to the occasion, undertaking his new responsibilities with energy, seriousness, and enthusiasm.

The microscope that Mitchell brought home with him from Paris was one of only a handful being used by U.S. scientists in the early 1850s. He began a course of animal research, publishing articles and a monograph on rattlesnake venom in 1860. With the advent of the Civil War, and despite his never-moderating dislike of Abraham Lincoln, Mitchell worked as a contract surgeon for the Union army. His study and treatment of injured soldiers led to his next series of articles and book, Gunshot Wounds and Other Injuries of the Nerves, the definitive work of its kind. It also contained the seeds for his next research, the treatment of nervous disease in civilians, especially women. In the 1870s, as he began to publish medical articles and books about this work, Mitchell also began writing for a general public about his treatments. As his reputation grew, so did his medical practice. Then, as a writer of widely read historical romances, Mitchell added even further to his popularity. He was also an active member and fundraiser for numerous professional societies and boards in Philadelphia and around New England, and he numbered many well-known medical and social figures among his close acquaintances.

Although Mitchell was being hailed locally, nationally, and internationally as one of the country’s leading medical scientists by the time he reached his mid-forties, he was not as successful in being lionized by Philadelphia’s tightly-knit medical society. He was repeatedly shunned when it came to seeking admission to the governing bodies of Philadelphia’s top universities and medical schools, those positions of honor given to physicians of inferior medical stature but superior social connections. Similarly, as a poet and novelist, Mitchell was never welcomed among the top ranks of writers. Paradoxically, although he longed for such critical acclaim, he often disapproved of the perceived immorality in the writing of contemporaries such as Edith Wharton and Walt Whitman. Cervetti paints a picture of an ambitious but frustrated man who, for all his professional and popular successes, found himself an outsider to...