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^PHYSIC AND  physicians:


    A MEDICAL SKETCH BOOK,


             EXHIBITING

  THE PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIFE OF THE
    MOST CELEBRATED MEDICAL MEN
          OF FORMER DAYS;
  MEMOIRS OF EMINENT LIVING LONDON PHYSICIANS
            AND SURGEONS.

            IN TWO PARTS.
r Ft rb 25  B . k>'• ►: / t UJ -i





         PHILA^OTW'HIA:

      G. B.  ZIEBER  & CO.

               1845. 
W2L
  TO
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C. SHERMAN, PRINTER. 
PREFACE.
   Dr. Samuel Johnson, in his Life of Akenside, makes
 the following observation:—
   " A physician in a great city seems to be the mere play-
 thing of fortune; his degree of reputation is, for the most
 part, totally casual; they that  employ him know not his
 excellence; they who reject him know not his deficiency.
 By an  acute observer, who had looked on the transac-
 tions of the world for half  a century, a very curious book
 might be written on the Fortune of Physicians."
   Many years after this hint was thrown out, a work of
 much merit appeared, entitled " The Gold-headed Cane,"
 and attributed to the pen of Dr.  M'Michael.  It contained
 a  variety of interesting particulars relating to the dis.
 tinguished physicians who successively  inherited  that
 ancient relic, now comfortably deposited in the College of
 Physicians.  But, although, in some particulars, "The
 Gold-headed  Cane"  resembles  the  present work, and is
 interesting as far  as  it goes, it does not fill up that hiatus
 in medical literature to which Dr. Johnson alludes.
   Adopting his suggestion, the author has endeavoured
 in the following pages to supply this desideratum;  and
although he  was conscious that  it was no easy under-
taking,  he fearlessly commenced  the  work, with a fixed
determination to permit no personal consideration how-
                        * 
VI                    PREFACE.

ever pressing, to prevent his making it as complete as his
humble abilities and  laborious exertions  could  possibly
render it
  The formidable nature of the undertaking, however,
might have deterred him from its prosecution, had he not
previously collected much of the materiel necessary for
its basis.  Intending to publish a work, entitled "Curio-
sities of Medical Literature," he brought together many
of the facts and illustrations  contained  in these pages;
but just as his  plan was fully matured, it was frustrated
by the appearance of a book under a somewhat similar
title; the author, therefore, determined at  once to demo-
lish  the fabric  he was erecting, and  by mingling much
new matter with the old materials, to  mould the book
into its present form.
  That the reader may be enabled to form some notion
of the author's difficulties, and of the  ground over which
he has travelled, in his long and tiring journey, culling
sweets from many a flower—it is only necessary to state
that the facts  and illustrations now brought together,
were scattered through four hundred volumes!
  The preliminary chapter was  written for the purpose
of demonstrating the antiquity  of the science  of medi-
cine, and to defend its professors from certain calumnies
which had been levelled  against them by unprincipled
and ignorant men, ever ready to depreciate in public  es-
timation the highly honourable members of a learned and
useful profession.
  In the chapter on the " Early Struggles of Eminent
Physicians,"  the author has brought  forward several  in-
stances of men who have  had to contend in  early life
with difficulties and disappointments of no ordinary cha-
racter, but who afterwards attained  to very high emi-
nence in their respective departments  of medical science;
and it is hoped  that  its perusal  will encourage and ele-
vate the drooping hopes of many who  may, perhaps, at
this moment be  struggling, nearly  heart-broken, with
adversity. 
PREFACE.                    Vll
  The men  who commence their career  under the most
favourable auspices, and with the most flattering pros-
pects of success, do not always obtain the eminence they
seek.   The race is not always to the  swift, nor the battle
to the strong.  There is a certain ordeal which all men
must undergo in their passage through life ;  and it is very
questionable whether he  succeeds the  best who com-
mences under the most apparently advantageous circum-
stances.  There is such a thing  as a man depending too
much upon his means, and too little upon himself—small
certainties, it has been observed, are  often the ruin of
men.
  A celebrated English judge, on being asked what con-
tributed most to success at the bar, replied, " Some suc-
ceed by great  talent, some by high connexions, some by
a miracle, but the majority by commencing  without a
shilling."
  The chapter on the " Art of Getting a Practice," must
be read in the spirit in which it is written.   It is a satire
on the stratagems and unprofessional  conduct of a  cer-
tain class of practitioners, anxious to  advance their  in-
terests, and not  over-scrupulous  of the means they resort
to, in order to effect their  purposes.
  The letter from  Dr. Mead to a brother  physician, is
condensed from a  rare and  valuable tract, deposited in
the library of the British  Museum ; and is interesting as
conveying to us some idea of the artifices which, even in
his day, the learned  author  considered  necessary to se-
cure popularity and success.
  Nothing need be said concerning those portions of the
work devoted  to the Lives of Medical Poets,—Eccentric
Men,—Chronicles of Warwick  Hall,  &c,  as they  will
best speak for themselves.
  The author at first intended to give a more minute ac-
count of the lives of the  many  eminent Physicians and
Surgeons whose names  are  mentioned; but be knew if
he did so, that it would render the work a dry biography 
 Vlll                     PREFACE.

 rather than a series of light sketches, and he would have
 been  compelled to exclude much interesting matter, in
 order to make room for the necessary dates and statistical
 details; but he hopes that the  references which  are here
 made to  the  most remarkable characteristics, and most
 striking  peculiarities, of each  individual, will give satis-
 faction to their admirers, and  pleasure and  profit to  the
 reader.
  " The great end of biography," says Dr.  Paris, in  his
 life of Sir  Humphry Davy, y is not to be found, as some
 would seem to imagine, in a series of dates, or in a col-
 lection of  anecdotes and table-talk,  which, instead of
 lighting up and vivifying the features, hang  as a cloud of
 dust upon the  portrait; but it  is to  be found in  the ana-
 lysis of human genius, and in the developement of those
 elements of the mind, to whose varied combinations, and
 nicely-adjusted proportions, the  mental habits and intel-
 lectual peculiarities of  distinguished men may be readily
referred."*
  For the Sketches of Living  Men, the author feels that
some  explanation is necessary. He would have hesitated
 in making  any allusion whatever to existing  characters,
 had this  been  the first production  in which  such a  re-
 ference was deemed  necessary.  But  he felt little or no
 delicacy in  sketching the portraits of men who still adorn
 the walks of life, when he perceived that their lives  had
already been noticed in several of the  public  periodicals.
  It is much to be regretted that the biography of emi-
 nent men should be commonly  so  long deferred, either
 from  indolence or motives of fear  or delicacy, for by so
doing their most prominent features  are forgotten;  and
 unless they have communicated the  results  of  their  re-
 searches to the world, much that is valuable must be lost,
 while  the memory, incapable of recalling what had never
 been deeply impressed, admits  those fabulous  conceits
* Page 41. 
                       PREFACE.                     IX

which  arc  so  frequently found clinging to the  heels of
truth.
  There is, perhaps, in the history of every man, much
that he desires to screen from public observation; and no
honourable person would wish to pander to the vulgar ap-
petite of those who prey on the failings of their fellows,
and drag from its hiding-place that which, with  studious
art, had been concealed.  There are, however, many bril-
liant examples of virtue, honour,  and great intellectual
superiority, which nothing but false delicacy could wish
to hide from observation and from praise.
  Such delineations of character, when faithfully por-
trayed, must have a beneficial tendency; for by them is
virtue displayed in action, and that which is worthy and
good opened to the admiration of all.   Such  men, in the
glowing language of Scripture, should be "living epistles,
known and read of all men."  But how can this be done,
except at a time when the impression which reputation
has made upon the public mind is fresh, and all the colla-
teral circumstances which gave their aid in the formation
of character are known?
  The histories of the eminent  living Physicians  and
Surgeons contained in these pages are necessarily brief,
and they may be, in some instances, imperfect; but all is
told which would benefit the public, and nothing is with-
held which would add  to their reputation.   The author
has had a duty to perform, as well to the subjects of hia
remark, as to  his readers;  and he trusts that he has faith-
fully considered his obligations to both.
   In preparing the sketches of deceased practitioners, the
most approved biographical records have, of course, been
consulted.   The lives, however, of only a few of the emi-
nent men  here  noticed have been elaborately  written;
and, therefore, the author  had to encounter great difficul-
ties in collecting  together the materials for his biographi-
cal sketches,  which,  though in some  instances meagre,
may be depended upon for  their authenticity.
   To the  following works the author is indebted for much 
X                    PREFACE.
valuable information : Mr. Pettigrew's Life and Letters of
Dr. Lettsom, the Rev. Dr. Olinthus  Gregory's Life of
Mason  Good, Mr. Pearson's Life of Hey, and Mr. Ward-
rop's Life of Dr. Baillie.   It is hoped that in this portion
of the work will be found a useful combination of amuse-
ment  with  instruction;  for while  no dry  facts which
could elucidate character are withheld, their somnolescent
tendency is corrected by many interesting details, which
of themselves constitute a large body of pleasing medical
anecdote.
  The study of biography must always have a beneficial
effect upon the mind.   It may be called  " philosophy
teaching by example;" for by it the young aspirant, in
watching  the progress of men, either towards good or
evil, is able  to trace the cause of their success, or the ruin
with which their efforts have been attended.  He  will
behold the triumph of virtue over  passion  and sensual
pleasure, and industry over indolence, and thus be cheered
on in the midst of his own rugged way, with the  inspiring
hope of achieving the same glorious victory, and receiving
the  like honourable reward; and, beholding the wrecks
of those who have been  cast away upon the rocks  and
quicksands of life, as beacons to point out the dangers by
which he is beset, he  may learn, while he commiserates
their fate, to avoid the errors which led to their destruc-
tion.
  In  extenuation  of those  inaccuracies  which  must
necessarily creep into a work like the present, embracing
as it does so many subjects, the  author is conscious that
an apology is due to the public.  All, however, that he
will venture to say on this topic, is what Dr. Goldsmith
has said, in his advertisement to the "Vicar of Wake-
field,"—" There are an hundred faults in this thing,  and
an hundred things might be said to prove them  beauties.
But it  is  needless.   A  book  may be  amusing  with
numerous errors, or it  may be dull without  a single
absurdity." 
CONTENTS.
                    CHAPTER I.

   ANTIQUITY OF PHYSIC, AND DEFENCE OF MEDICAL MEN.

Divine origin of Medicine—Medicine  in Egypt—Hippocrates
  —Galen—Religion and Medicine—Learning and Usefulness
  of Medical Men—Dr. Parr's Opinion of the Profession-
  Pope's  last Illness  and Death — Medical Men not Irreli-
  gious—Antiquated Dress of the old Physicians—Ancient
  Barbarous Surgery—Reasons for not  liking the study of the
  Law.........        "  13
                    CHAPTER II.

                ECCENTRIC MEDICAL MEN.

Dr. Mounsey—Dr. Marryatt—Sir John Hill—Sir Richard Jebb
  —Sir John Elliot—Dr. Radcliffe—Mr. John Abernethy   50 
                  CHAPTER III.

       EARLY STRUGGLES OF EMINENT MEDICAL MEN.

Dr. Baillie—Dr. Monro—Dr. Parry—Medical Quackery—Sir
  Hans Sloane—An Episode in Real Life—Dr.Culien—Dr.T.
  Denman—Mr. John Hunter—Dr.  Armstrong—Ruling Pas-
  sion strong in Death—Dr. Brown.....116
                  CHAPTER  IV.

             CELEBRATED MEDICAL POETS.

Why Poets do not succeed as Physicians—Life and anecdotes
  of Sir Samuel Garth—Origin of the Kit-Kat-Club—Dr. Ma-
  son Good—Dr. Oliver Goldsmith.....177 
PHYSIC  AND   PHYSICIANS.
                    CHAPTER I.

Divine origin of Medicine—Medicine in Egypt—Hippocrates
  —Galen—Religion and Medicine—Learning and Usefulness
  of Medical Men—Dr. Parr's Opinion of the  Profession—
  Pope's last Illness and Death—Medical Men not Irreligi-
  ous—Antiquated  Dress of the old Physicians—Ancient
  Barbarous Surgery—Reasons for not liking  the study of the
  Law.

  It is not our intention, however  interesting the subject
may be, to travel over the ground which has been so ably
explored by the  master minds of Friend, Le Clerc, Lett-
som,  Schulze, Hamilton, Moir, and Bostock.   Were  it
necessary to write a history of medicine, we should have
but little difficulty in effecting our object, assisted as we
should be by the elaborate works of the  above-mentioned
authors.  They have penetrated into the most secret re-
cesses  of ancient  history, and have recorded, with  a
praiseworthy accuracy, the progress of opinion among
the medical sages of antiquity.
  Much good has undoubtedly resulted from inquiries of
this nature. The man  who is  conversant with  medical
history must be aware  how often time  and talents have
been misspent, not only in the defence of  deceptive theo-
                         2 
14
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
ries, and erroneous modes of practice, but in the account
of alleged discoveries,  which have proved  in fact, to  be
only revivals of doctrines once supposed to be  valuable,
but long ago exploded as unimportant and useless.  It is
not only necessary, therefore, to be acquainted  with the
system which obtains for the time being, but to have at
least some notion of the views which regulated the treat-
ment of diseases in by-past ages;  ebe,  like  the  mill-
horse, we may work in a circle, tread the same ground
over and over again, and leave matters just where we
found  them.   Without this knowledge a practitioner,
however observant and wide the range of his personal
experience, must ever remain only half informed; for al-
though  medicine is,  perhaps, beyond all other  arts and
sciences essentially practical, and books,  without expe-
rience in the treatment of disease,  can never form the
real physician, yet the most valuable deductions are those
which are confirmed  by an extensive  comparison of what
is seen with what has been read.*
  The farther we attempt  to penetrate into the mystery
of antiquity, the more  indistinct  does the object of our
pursuit become.  In  place  of the certainty which we
might have anticipated from a  nearer approximation to
the head of the stream, we experience increasing per-
plexity ;  and where  we might hope for the guidance of
truth we find ourselves embarrassed by the delusion of
fable.
  Le Clerc discusses  with considerable  ingenuity the
question, " si la medecine  est venue immediatement de
Dieu ?"—whether medicine came  immediately  from
God.
  In  Ecclesiasticus  it is said,  that " God created the
physician and the physic, and that he hath given science
to man, and that 'tis  he that healeth man, &c."+  All the
* Vide Moir's " Outlines of Medicine."
t Chap, xxxvi. v. 12. 
                 PHYSIC AND PHYSlCIANi.              15

ancient pagans held their gods to be the authors of medi-
cine.   The art of physic, says  Cicero, is sacred to the
invention  of the  immortal gods: " deorum immortalium
inventioni consecrata est  ars  medica."  Pliny makes a
similar declaration,  " Diis primum inventores  suos as-
signavit medicina cceloque dicavit."*  In  the  works of
Galen, it is said, that the Greeks ascribed the  invention
of arts to the sons of God.  Hippocrates makes God the
inventor.  He says,  "they who first found the way of
curing distempers, thought it an art which deserved to
be ascribed to the gods; which is the  received opinion."
  Celsus,  the elegant Roman physician, has asserted that
medicine  and  mankind must have  been coeval in  their
origin: "Medicina nusquam non est;" an opinion which
we think  cannot be rationally questioned.   If some na-
tions, says Pliny, have made shift without physicians, yet
none ever did  without physic.  The learned Schulze seri-
ously maintains that the first man must necessarily have
been the first physician.  (Ag^ucrnp.)   He considers that
our first  parents  were skilled in physiology.  Let the
curious reader refer to his work for  his reasons for  hold-
ing this opinion: we do not think  this  is the place for
the discussion of his arguments.
  Our medical knowledge of the antediluvians is very
scanty. After the deluge, we read of circumcision being
performed; and with the solitary exception of this sur-
gical rite, history, whether sacred or profane, presents us
with no information whatever respecting the  progress of
medicine  or surgery, during  the patriarchal ages.  As
we descend the stream of time, and approach the  limits
of authentic history, we find that the science of medicine
was cultivated methodically, and reduced to a system.
  Herodotus informs us of the state of the science among
the Babylonians.  The practice of medicine must have
preceded the reduction of the art of healing to scientific
* Lib. xix. cap. 1. 
16              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
principles.   The Babylonians  and  Egyptians  carried
their  sick  into the market-place and  public streets, in
order to obtain the experience of those  who might pass
them, and who had been afflicted with the same diseases;
and no one was allowed to pass until he had investigated
the sick man's case.  This was not only the practice of
this nation, but was one of their public laws ; -and Sozo-
mones mentions it as  obtaining  amongst the Hiberi, a
people in Asia.  The  prophet Jeremiah feigns Babylon
complaining, in the Lamentations, in these words, " Is it
nothing to you, all ye that pass  by, behold and  see if
there  be any sorrow equal to my  sorrow:"  and then the
Apostle Mark, (ch. vi.) in allusion to the same  custom,
says, " And whithersoever he entered, into villages  and
cities, and countries, they laid the  sick in the streets, and
besought that they might touch, if it were but the border
of his garment; and as many as touched him were made
whole."  Strabo says the same of the Portuguese, " who,
according to the ancient custom of the Babylonians  and
Egyptians, bring their sick into the streets and highways,
that all comers who have  had the same malady, might
give them their advice."*  Notwithstanding this circum-
stance, the Egyptians, a people much resembling the Chi-
nese, were the most forward of the primitive nations, in
the march of civilization and the cultivation of know-
ledge.  Manetho, a distinguished  Egyptian writer, is re-
presented  by Eusebius as stating that Athatis, a tradi-
tionary monarch of that country,  wrote several treatises
on anatomy.  In Egypt, medicine was fettered by absurd
regulations. The chief priests confined themselves en-
tirely to the exercise of the magic rites and prophecies,
which they considered the  higher branches of the art,
and left the exhibition  of remedies to the pastophori, or
image-bearers.  They were also compelled  to follow im-
plicitly the medical precepts of the sacred  records con-
' Lib. 16. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
17
tained in the six hermetical books:  a deviation from those
rules was  punished with  death.  The Egyptians, and
other Eastern nations who first cultivated science, cherish-
ed a great veneration in the earliest  periods of time for
the medical character; and the ancient Greeks, who were
less advanced in civilization and the refined arts than the
Trojans, never mention their professors of medicine but
with the warmest  gratitude and veneration.  The Argo-
nautic expedition was not undertaken without the attend-
ance and aid of a physician, even the divine Ex, who was
considered one of the  principal heroes of the  school of
Chiron the Centaur. The  history of Machteon, his son,
exhibits  a character adorned with most amiable  virtues.
When he was  wounded by Paris, at  the  siege of Troy,
the whole  army  appeared interested in  his  recovery.
Even Achilles, during  his seceding from the  allied army,
when he had
      His friend Machaeon singled from the rest,
      A  transient pity touched his vengeful breast;

and he despatched Patroclus to inquire after the " wound-
ed offspring of the  healing  god," who was placed under
the protection of the wise Nector at the request of Ido-
meneus, who observes,

     " A wise  Physician, skilled our wounds to  heal,
      Is more than armies to  the public weal."

   The Jews were ignorant of medicine until their intro-
duction  into Egypt.
   The Grecians, like the Egyptians, considered medicine
of divine origin.  Their Apollo and Minerva, answered
to the Isis and Osiris of the latter nation ; and Orpheus,
the  priest, poet,  and  physician, usurped the  place of
Thoth.
   Esculapius flourished fifty years before the Trojan war;
and we  find that his two sons distinguished themselves in
that war  by  their  valour,  and by their  skill  in curing
                           2* 
18
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
 wounds.  Homer,  describing  Eurypylus wounded  and
 under the care of Patroclus, says,

    " Patroclus cut the forky steel away,
     When in his hand a bitter root he  bruised,
     The wound he washed, the styptic juice infused,
     The closing flesh that instant ceased to glow,
     The wound to torture, and the blood to flow."

   Hippocrates, who has justly been  styled the " Father
 of Medicine," was born in the island of Cos,  situated in
 the Egean sea, at no great distance from Rhodes.  Celsus
 remarks, that Hippocrates was the first person who eman-
 cipated medicine from  the trammels of superstition  and
 the  delusions  of false philosophy.   He  considered  the
 doctrine, inculcated by physicians, of the celestial origin
 of disease, as paralysing the efforts of the physician,  and
 proving  highly detrimental to the patient.  While  the
 vain hopes it held out of recovery, through the medium of
 prayers, sacrifices, and bribes  for the intercessions of
 priests, could not fail to bring both religion and medicine
 into contempt.  His works, which have descended to us,
 are very much contaminated by interpolation.  He died
 at the age of 100, three  hundred and sixty years before
 the birth of Christ.
   Contemporaneously with Hippocrates lived Democritus
 of Abdera, a zealous anatomist.  Thessalus and Dacro,
 two sons of Hippocrates, founded, with  Polybus, his son-
 in-law, the  Dogmatic School.  Their leading tenets  are
 recorded in the book, " On the  Nature of Man."  This
 school  applying,  or, rather misapplying, the  mystical
 speculations of the Platonian philosophy to the study of
 medicine, adopted this  most pernicious principle, that,
 " win. a observation failed, reason might suffice."  Their
 doctrine  was utterly subversive  of the  first principle of
that  illustrious reformer, who, by bringing every fact to
the test of the most rigorous observation, and ridding  the
 science of medicine of the gross absurdities which had so 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
19
 long disfigured and perplexed it, succeeded in extricating
 it from  the  chaos of confusion in which he found  it in-
 volved, and elevating it to its true rank among the higher
 branches of human knowledge.
   Contemporaneously with the establishment of the Dog.
 matists, Eudoxus founded the Pythagorean system,  the
 disciples of which directed their attention principally to
 the dietetic part of medicine.
   Then followed the  Empyrical school, relying solely on
 facts, and setting principles entirely aside, in their estima-
 tion of disease and administration of remedies.
   The establishment of the Alexandrian sect formed an
 important epoch in the history of medicine.  Erastratus
 and Hcrophilus were the first physicians of note in this
 school.   But we have to regret that  the destruction of its
 splendid library,  by the  hands  of the barbarous con-
 querors, has left us little to relate concerning its doctrine
 or  practice.
   Pliny informs us  that  the Romans were 600  years
 without physic, if not without physicians. All operations
 in surgery were performed by slaves  and freedmen.  The
 first man who  practised at Rome, as a regular man, was
 Archagathus, a Greek. The  too  frequent use of the
 knife, and the  actual cautery, caused him to be banished
 from the capital of the Roman empire.
  Asclepiodcs, a student from the  Alexandrian school,
 was the next physician of note who appeared at Rome.
 He commenced as a teacher  of rhetoric; but abandoned
 it for medicine; and, by his eccentric address, in a  short
 time brought liimself into  notice.  The  prototype of all
 succeeding  quacks,  he affected to contemn every  thing
 that  had been done before  him.   "Omnia,  abdicavit;
 totamque medicinam  ad causam  revocando, conjecturam
fecit."*  He ridiculed Hippocrates,  and nicknamed his
 system d-avsriv jutkuni, " A Meditation on Death."  He
* Celsus. 
20
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
attempted to explain  all the phenomena  of health  and
disease, by the doctrine of atoms and pores.  He opposed
bleeding, and depended principally upon gestation, friction,
wine, and the internal and  external application of cold
water.  He first divided disease into chronic and  acute,
and was the  first originator of the Balinea pensilis, or
shower bath; on his principle was established a sect called
the Methodics.   They divided disease into two divisions;
first, those which proceeded from stricture,  and those
which were the consequence of relaxation.
  The  celebrated Themeson,  a pupil of  Asclepiodes,
founded this sect.  Although Themeson was held in high
estimation by some, he was  discarded by others, as  will
appear by the well-known lines of Juvenal:—

     " How many sick in one short autumn fell
      Let Themeson, their ruthless slayer, tell."
                                     Sat. 10, v. 221.
  It was the custom of the Roman physicians to visit
their patients attended by all their pupils; in allusion to
which practice we have the epigram of Martial:—
   " I'm ill.  I send for Symmachus ; he's here,
    An hundred pupils following in the rear:
    All feel my pulse, with hands as cold as snow ;
    I had no fever then—I have it now."

  Among the most  distinguished medical writers  of the
first century, was Aurelius Cornelius Celsus.  He has been
termed the " Latin Hippocrates."  According to good au-
thority, he wrote upon several subjects; in one of his works,
now extant, is a passage which deserves to be quoted, as it
shows his generous and  enlarged  mind, he says,  " Hip.
pocrates, knowing and skilful as he was, once  mistook a
fracture of the skull for a natural suture ;  and was after-
wards so ingenuous as to confess his mistake, and to leave
it on record."  " This," says Celsus, " was acting like a
truly great man; little geniuses, conscious to themselves 
THYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
21
 that they have nothing to spare,  cannot bear the least
 diminution of their prerogative, nor suffer themselves  to
 depart from any opinion which they have embraced, how
 false and pernicious soever that opinion may be, while the
 man of real ability is always  ready to make a frank
 acknowledgment of his errors, especially in a profession
 where it is of importance to posterity to read the truth."
   The medical writings of Celsus are considered only  as
 inferior to those of Hippocrates, over which they possess
 this advantage, that they have descended to us free from
 those interpolations and corruptions of the text, which
 detract so much from the authority and utility of the
 latter.
   Galen flourished one hundred  and thirty years after
 Celsus, and  was  physician to  the Emperor  Marcus
 Aurelius.  He was considered for  many years an infalli-
 ble authority on all matters relating to pathology.  Galen
 exhibited from earliest infancy evidence of uncommon
 sagacity. He detected the futility of prevailing systems.
 Dissatisfied  with what his  master taught him, as  incon-
 trovertible truths and immutable principles, he was filled,
 as it were, with a new light on studying the writings  of
 Hippocrates, his admiration of which increased  on com-
 paring them  with the works of nature.
   Much has been said  of the influence which the study of
 anatomy had on Galen's mind.   After contemplating the
 structure of the bones of a skeleton, and their adaptation
 to their different functions, he breaks out into an apos-
 trophe, which has been much admired, and in which he
 is said  to have exceeded any other ancient in pointing out
 the nature, attributes, and proper worship of the Deity.
   " In  explaining these things (he  says), I esteem myself
as composing a solemn hymn to the Author of our  bodily
 frame; and in this, I think, there is more true piety than
in sacrificing to him hecatombs of oxen, or burnt-offerings
of the  most  costly perfumes; for  I must endeavour  to
know him myself, and  afterwards to show him to others, 
22              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
to inform them how great is his wisdom, his virtue, and
his goodness."
  The works of Galen, Hippocrates, and Aristotle, were
translated into the language of the Arabians, to  which
the  science of medicine  is  not much  indebted.  They
added, however, some  improvements to the  science of
botany and materia medica.
  Many ages were allowed to roll on before learning was
revived in Europe; this was to a great extent effected by
the  communications which the Crusaders  established
between the Europeans and Saracens; and at length, the
revival of letters in Italy was fully effected in  conse-
quence  of Constantinople being  taken by the Turks.
Learning took shelter in the East during the convulsions
of the Roman Empire.
  Having traced, in this faint outline  of  the history of
medicine, the science down to the  revival of letters in
Europe, we shall leave it.  We never had a very extrava-
gant notion of the value of the ancient  medical writers*
An excessive admiration of them has enabled some to dis-
cover in Hippocrates and Galen the rudiments, if not the
full  developemcnt, of every  discovery which has  been
made in modern times; while others, falling into the
opposite extreme, find the present time, that is to say, the
times which they illuminate by their genius, the  only
times in which any great things have been  done towards
the advancement of the art which they cultivate.
  These opposite modes of thinking, are what Lord Ba-
con  calls, in his own quaint phraseology,  " the peccant
humours of literature," of which he says, " the chiefest is
the extreme affecting of two extremes—the one antiquity,
  * Let us learn to distinguish the uses from the abuses
of antiquity.  Not to know what happened  before  we
were born, is always to remain  a child: to know, and
blindly to adopt, that knowledge, as an  implicit rule of
life, is never to be a man. 
THYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
23
the other novelty.  Antiquity cnvieth that there  should
be new additions, which it may be troublesome to master;
and novelty cannot be content to add, but it must deface."
" Surely  (he says) the  advice of the prophet is the true
direction in this matter:" " state super vias antiqvas et
videte quamum sit via recta, et  bona, et  ambulate in ea."
"Antiquity,"  he  adds, "deserveth this reverence, that
men should make a stand thereupon, and discover which
is the best way;  but when the discovery is well taken,
then to make progression."*
  The mummery of medicine, with all its cabalistic and
unintelligible mysticisms, has given place to direct, tan-
gible, demonstrable  truths, as simple,  as plain, and  as
interesting as the  palpable principles of all other branches
of natural philosophy.  It is utterly impossible to deve-
lope all the nice intricacies of the healing art, or success-
fully to dispense its  numerous  blessings, without a strict
and  perpetual  reference to the established operations of
nature.
  In the beginning, medicine was of necessity a super-
stitious  and an empirical science; that is to say, an ex-
peri mental art; while nature pursued  her course with
uniform  regularity, and while her operations were unin-
terrupted by any obstacle, men enjoyed  the benefit which
it bestowed, without any desire to ascertain their  cause
and  origin; but any deviation from this  cause, however
trifling  it might  be, was calculated  to excite their  cu-
riosity and to astonish their minds.   These changes
being to  them incomprehensible, were readily referred to
the agency of some  supernatural power; and  the inflic-
tion  of disease was attributed  to the wrathful  power of
an offended deity, from whom both  the cure  and preven-
tion  were alone to be  obtained.  " Morbos vero ad iram
Deorum  immortalium relatos, et ah iisdem opem postulari
tolitam," says Celsus.
* »• Advancement of Learning." 
24
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.,
  This was the true and simple notion of the case, and it
was abundantly fostered by two principles, which operate
powerfully upon all rude nations;—a fond desire to pene-
trate into futurity, and an eager anxiety to avert impend-
ing evils.  With  regard  to  the  first, it  has  been well
observed by an able  writer* that the  human mind  is
most apt to feel and to manifest this vain curiosity, when
its own  powers are most feeble and uninformed.  Asto-
nished with  occurrences of which it cannot comprehend
the cause, it naturally associates such occurrences with a
mysterious and marvellous influence.  Ashamed of events
which it can neither discern  the issue, nor anticipate the
consequences, it has recourse to other means of discover-
ing them, than that which might be afforded by its own sa-
gacity.  Whenever superstition is regularly and systemati-
cally established, this desire of penetrating into the secrets
of futurity is intimately connected with it.  Hence arose
the mystic  divination of Greece, and Rome, as  well  as
that of  our  own Druids; and this divination  speedily as-
sumed  the character  and form of a religious ceremony.
Priests, and the ministers of heaven, pretended to deliver
its oracles to men. They were only soothsayers, augurs,
and magicians, who possessed the sacred  and important
art of  disclosing  what was hidden  from less hallowed
eyes.
   As the diseases of men in a  savage state, like those
of animals, are few, but violent,  their  impatience  under
what they suffered, and their solicitude for the recovery
of their health, soon inspired them with extraordinary
 reverence  for  those  who  pretended to understand  the
 nature  of their maladies, or to preserve them from their
 sudden  and  fatal effects.   These  ignorant  pretenders,
 however, were such  utter strangers to the  structure  of
 the human frame, that they were equally unacquainted
 with the causes of disorders, as  with their probable ter-
* Robertson's History of America, vol. i. p. 339. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
25
 mination.  Enthusiasm, mingled generally with  some
 portion of  craft, supplied  their  deficiencies  in  actual
 science.   They imputed the origin of diseases to  super-
 natural influence; and prescribed, or performed, a variety
 of mysterious rites, which they declared to be sufficiently
 powerful to remove them.
  Credulity  and reverence favoured  the  deception, so
 that, among savages, their first physicians were a species
 of conjurors or wizards, who boasted of their knowledge
 of the past, and who predicted the events  of the future.
 Incantations,  sorcery,  and  mummeries of divers  kinds,
 were the  means  which they employed to counteract the
 causes of imaginary malignancy, upon the assumed effi-
 cacy of which they predicted with confidence the fate of
 their deluded  patients.
  In Adair's " History  of the American  Indians,"  we
 find a particular  account of their  manner  of curing the
 sick; and the author relates a conversation which he had
 with an old Indian physician, who told him they had just
 killed a witch for using pernicious charms.
  Henessin, an earlier writer, bears ample testimony to
 the mystic ceremonies of these American physicians and
jugglers.  The Abbe Poyart, in his  history,  says, that
 when the king of Cacongo happens to fall ill, his physi-
 cians commence  their treatment by publishing  his indis-
position through  the kingdom, and  then  every one is
compelled to kill his dunghill cock, and offer it  as a pro-
pitiatory sacrifice to the angry deity, whose vengeance is
supposed to have fallen  upon  the monarch.   Thus we
see, as Pliny has observed, " that magic was the offspring
of medicine;  and after having fortified  itself  with the
help of astrology, borrowed all its splendour and  authority
from religion."*
  Religion was, indeed,  in  the early  ages, inseparably
connected  with medicine, and its principles were  inti-
* Historia Natur. Lib. xxx. c. 12,
               3 
26
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
mately attached to it: its founder  was deified, and the
art itself accounted divine.   The  one supplied  medicine
for the soul, the  other  for  the body; and  we  question
very much  whether the tangible  benefits  of  medicine
were not more highly valued, if not more  highly  reve-
renced,  than  the  uncertain and  confused advantages
which were promised to the virtuous by the designing
priests of a confused and mysterious mythology.
   Persia abounds with physicians  and astrologers, and
the Persians are  strongly attached  to the occult science
of the latter.  xSo much is  this the case, that  a Persian
rarely follows the  prescription of  his medical adviser,
without first ascertaining  from  an  astrologer  that  the
constellation is favourable to the proposed remedy. When
a  man of note dies in Persia, the astrologer ascribes hiB
death to the uncertainty of physic:  while  the  votary of
Galen, on  the  other hand,  throws  all the blame on  the
planet-struck sage, imputing to him an ignorance of the
proper time for taking the medicine prescribed.   Upon
this, the astrologer retorts, that the nature  of his profes-
sion is extremely  hard, when compared with that of the
physician;  since, if he  commit  an  error, by making  a
wrong calculation, " heaven discovers it;"  whereas, if a
physician be guilty of a blunder,  " the earth conceals it;"
the patient  dies, is buried, and is heard of no more.
   Medical men have in all ages been held in high esti-
mation,  when the understanding  of mankind was  not
clouded by  superstition.  The ancients deified  their cele-
brated medical men, and dedicated temples to their ho-
nour.  Plato, the great heathen philosopher ;  ays, that
a good physician  is only second  to God  himself.  The
Athenians  must  have had an  elevated notion  of  the
science  of  medicine, for there was  a law among them
that no slave or woman should study physic.   The inha-
 bitants of Smyrna associated, upon the coins of that city,
 the names of their celebrated physicians with the effigies
 of their gods.  The Romans, in  the  early period of their 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
27
history, did not hold the art in very high  estimation;
but in the time of Julius Ca?sar, when physicians came
from Greece (the country whence the Romans derived all
their polite learning and knowledge of the fine arts), they
were  complimented  with the freedom of the  " Eternal
City;" a  privilege  of which that proud people was ex-
tremely jealous.  Their great orator, Cicero,  says, " that
nothing brings men nearer the gods, than by giving
health to their fellow-creatures."
  " How  the tender springs of life,"  says an eminent
physician, " that elevate a man  to move but a little below
angels, vibrate and ravish the mind with  pleasure, when
our art snatches a victim friend from the  jaws of death!
And shall we then prefer inglorious case to the divine
energy of raising the dead ?  No, verily : if the  soldier,
who burns cities and desolates  the  land by human sacri-
fices, is worthy of marble or brass, what adequate monu-
ment can human art effect for  him who burns  no cities,
but saves their inhabitants, who desolates  no country,
but peoples it not with stones, as fabled of old, but with
his friendiSf his relations doomed to the  grave."  The me-
dical man is indeed a guardian  angel of a family, a deity
of health.  If the profession be  not a lucrative one, it is a
divine one.  It is  above money, and is  " not to be dealt
in by attorneyship," as Shakspeare  says of love.
  It is, indeed, a high gratification to  be the humble ad-
ministrator of  relief to  our fellow-creatures; but there
are drawbacks  to every enjoyment  of life. Dr. Cuming,
in writing to his friend Lettsom, alluding to this subject,
addresses him  in the following strain:  " Have you not
sometimes felt the hurried clay-cold grasp of  a  respected
friend's hand ?   Have you not seen the  lack-lustre eye,
the wan,  perhaps,  distorted features, and  the convulsive
pangs  of an expiring husband and  father—his bed encir-
cled by an affectionate wife, and a  group of  weeping  in-
fants, whose comfort in this world—nay, perhaps, whose
subsistence—depended upon the life of their parent ?— 
28
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS,
these  rend the  very  heartstrings, and  make us deplore
the impuissance of our art."
  The balance of  account  between  satisfaction  and
remorse,  was  jocosely stated  by Dr.  Warren to Lady
Spencer, who had said, she thought the frequent reflec-
tion, that  a different treatment might  have saved their
patients, must embitter the lives of medical men: he told
her, that the balance was greatly in favour of satisfaction,
for he hoped to  cure  her forty times before  he killed her
once.
  It is in the  time  of such scenes as Dr. Cuming de-
lineates, that when, in the physician, the friend and the  *
divine are combined, his affection, his good sense, and      <
his sympathy, pour into the afflicted the oil of comfort;
he  soothes the  pangs of wo; he mitigates  the distress;
he finds out something in the wise dispensations of Pro-
vidence that he carries  home  to the bosom of affliction.
Hence it  is that he  is truly a guardian angel; his  assi-
duity makes him appear as a sufferer with the family;
they view  him  as one of themselves—sympathy unites
him to them ; he acquires  new ties, new afftetions ; he
mourns with them,  and  his philosophy points out new
sources of consolation—he  is beloved—he is become the
father of  the family—he is every thing that Heaven in
kindness deputes, to  soften and dissipate misery.
   But how often is  the medical man  treated with  base
ingratitude, when his services are not required.  How
often  is he exposed to  the neglect, contempt, and  con-
tumely of those who are the first,  when ill, to demand
his services!
       God and the Doctor we alike adore,
       But only when in danger, not before;
       The danger o'er, both arc alike requited,
       God is  forgotten, and the Doctor slighted.

   The most learned men  of  all ages, the most distin-
guished ornaments of literature, have combined in rank- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
29
ing very high  the learning and humanity of medical
men.   " I will  not stop to inquire," says  Dr. Johnson,
"whether what Temple says be true, that  physicians
have had more learning than the other faculties;  but  I
believe every man has found in physicians great liberality
and dignity  of sentiment, very prompt effusion of benefi-
cence,  and  willingness to exert a  lucrative  art,  where
there is no hope of lucre."*
  Pope, in his epistle  to Dr. Arbuthnot, says,

    " Friend to my life, which did not you prolong,
       The world had wanted many  an idle  song."

  Dryden, in his " Postscript" to the translation of Virgil,
pays a high compliment to his own  medical friends, and
to the  profession generally.  He says,  " that I have re-
ceived, in some measure, the health  which I have lost by
too much application  to this work, is owing, next to God's
mercy, to the skill and care of Dr. Guibbons and Dr.
Hobbs, the two ornaments of their profession, whom I can
only pay by this  acknowledgment.  The whole faculty
has always been ready to oblige me."  Pope says, in  a
letter to his  friend Allen, a short period before his  death,
there is no end of my kind  treatment  from the  faculty.
They are, in general,  the most amiable companions, and
the best  friends,  as  well  as the most  learned men  I
know."t
  * Life of Sir S. Garth.
  t A curious anecdote is related of Pope, in reference to
his medical advisers, which is worth recording.
  During his  last  illness,  a squabble happened  in  his
chamber  between his two  physicians—Dr. Burton and'
Dr. Thompson.   Dr. Burton charged Dr. Thompson with
having hastened Pope's death, by the violent cathartic
medicines he had administered to the poet.  Dr. Thomp-
son retorted the charge  with considerable vehemence.
                          3* 
30
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
   Judge Blackstone, in  his  introduction to  his  cele-
brated "Commentaries," speaks in the highest terms of
the learning of medical men.   He  says, "the medical
profession,  beyond  all others, has remarkably deserved
the character of general and extensive knowledge."
   Linacre, the founder of the College of Physicians, was
the first Englishman who read Aristotle and Galen in the
original Greek.  On his return to England, having taken
the degree  of  Doctor of Medicine,  at Oxford, he  gave
lectures on  physic  and taught  the  Greek language in
that University.  He was  considered  the  purest Latin
scholar of his day. Erasmus says of him, " vir non exactr
tantum sed severi judicii."  He not only published works
on medicine, but also contributed much to the Philosophy
of Grammar, and wrote a work on mathematics.  He was
successively physician to Henry  the VIII., Edward the
VI., and to the Princess Mary.
   Dr.  Caius, an English  physician,  read  lectures on
Aristotle in the University of Padua.   He founded Caius
College, and endowed it with considerable estates, for the
maintenance of a number of fellows and scholars.
   Pythagoras,  Democritus,  and  Aristotle—names  that
will be held  in  veneration by the  learned as long as phi-
losophy is made the subject of study—did not consider it
beneath their dignity to devote themselves to the study of
the science of medicine.
  It may truly be said, that there is no study whieh tends
to exalt the human  mind to more liberal and  extended
 The patient at length silenced them, by saying, " Gentle-
 men, I only learn, by your discourse, that I am in a very
 dangerous way; therefore, all I  now ask is, that the fol-
lowing  epigram  may be added, after  my death, to the
 next edition of the ' Dunciad,' by way of postscript:—

       " Dunces  rejoice, forgive all censures past,
       The greatest dunce has killed your foe at last." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
31
views of human nature, than that of which we have been
speaking.  It is the one best fitted to  interest, to divest
the feelings of prejudice, and  to  form both the moralist
and the philosopher.  In taking a view of human nature,
and in studying the  characters of men, it teaches us to
lay aside all the adventitious qualities, and  all the mere-
tricious ornaments which fortune and  favour may  confer.
It levels all distinctions and views, even " Ccesar as cold
dumb clay," a mass  of matter which exhibits no differ-
ence in its composition from that of the vilest of the  vile.
A good authority* has justly observed, that no profession
requires so comprehensive  a mind as medicine.   In the
other learned  professions considered as sciences, there is
a  certain  established  standard, certain fixed laws  and
statutes, to which every question  must constantly refer,
and by which it must he determined.  A knowledge of
this established  authority may be obtained  by assiduous
application and a good memory.  There  is little room left
for the display of genius, where invention cannot add, nor
judgment improve; because the established laws, whether
right or wrong, must be submitted to.  The only exercise
for ingenuity is in cases where it does not clearly  appear
what the laws are.  But even then, as disputable points
must be referred  to the opinions  of the judges, whose
opinions being formed from various circumstantial  combi-
nations, frequently differ, there is no  criterion by which
the ingenious  reasoner can be judged;  and his  conclu-
sions, whether well or ill drawn, must still remain unde-
cided.   The case  is very different in medicine.   There
we have no established authority to which we can refer
in doubtful cases.  Every physician must rest on his own
judgment, which appeals  for its  rectitude to nature  and
experience alone.  Among the infinite variety of facts and.
theories with which  his  memory has  been  filled, in the
course of a liberal  education, it is his business to make a
* Dr. Gregory. 
32
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
judicious  separation between  those  founded on  nature
and experience, and those which owe their birth to igno-
rance, fraud, or the capricious system of a heated and de-
luded imagination.  He  will find it  necessary to distin-
guish between important facts, and such as, though they
may be founded on truth, are, notwithstanding, trivial or
utterly useless to the main ends  of his profession.  Sup-
posing  these difficulties surmounted, he will find it  no
easy matter to apply his knowledge to practice.
  We had a most elevated  idea  of the dignity of physic
when we  commenced our medical career.  We held all
other professional grades, in comparison with our own, in
great contempt.  Time  has, to  a certain extent, cooled
our enthusiasm, and a knowledge of  the world has some-
what elevated our notions of lawyers  and clergymen.
  Law  is not the profession  to which we should  have
liked to have been educated.   We consider lawyers, how-
ever, in the present constitution  of society as a necessary
part of the body politic : and until men can make up their
minds to settle their own disputes, we  cannot  conceive
how we can do without  the gentlemen of the long robe.
The establishment of courts  of  arbitration, as suggested
by Lord Brougham, might prevent,  to a certain extent,
litigation, but it would not altogether  t nable us to dispense
with the  disciples of Coke and  Blackstone. Pope says,
"All  partial evil is universal good,"  and  so we  must bow
to circumstances.
   We  certainly do not  think that law, as at present stu-
died, is calculated to increase our stock of worldly wisdom.*
   * M. de la B-----, a French gentleman, having invited
 several friends to dine on a maigre day, his servant brought
•him word that  there was only a single salmon left in the
 market, which he had not dared to bring away, because it
 had  been bespoken  by a barrister.  " Here," said the
 master, putting  two or three  pieces of gold into his hand,
 " go back directly, and buy  me the barrister and the sal-
 mon too." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
33
How  few study the philosophy of legal  science.  The
mind cannot be enlarged, the faculties expanded, and the
judgment matured, when it is often employed in making
the " worse appear the better reason;"—in fact, in per-
verting truth.   A counsel enters the court to make out his
case, and instead of endeavouring to establish the truth,
which ought to be the object of all our investigations, he
frequently exercises all his wit,  learning, and  eloquence,
in its perversion, and so dumfounds, in the midst of learn-
ed jargon, the poor jury and the unfortunate persons ex-
amined.   How graphically has Lord Brougham described
the melancholy situation of a brow-beaten witness, when
placed at the mercy of two witty barristers.*
  The state of medicine may be considered as the crite-
rion, or  barometer of the state  of general science in a
nation.  Wherever the arts and  refinement have extended
their influence, there medicine will be particularly cherish-
ed, as conducive  to the  interests  and happiness of man-
kind.  This  explains the miserable  state of physic in
Europe so late as the tenth century, when there was scarce-
ly a physician in Spain.  Sancho, the fat King of Leon,
was obliged to make a journey to  Cordova, in 956, to put
himself under  an Arabian physician, who, though sent
for by the king, resolved that the king should come to
him.
   Dr. Parr entertained an exalted opinion of the members
of the medical profession.  His  father was a distinguish-

   * " Does not a barrister's affected warmth, and habitual
dissimulation, impair his honesty?" asked Boswellof Dr.
Johnson  : " Is there not some danger  that he may put on
the same mask in  common life, in the intercourse with
his friends ?"   " Why, no, Sir,"  replied the Doctor.  " A
man will no more  carry the artifice of the bar into the
common intercourse of society, than  a man who is paid
for tumbling upon his hands will continue to do so when
he should walk on his feet." 
34              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS,
ed surgeon; and  he himself was  destined for the same
profession.   He used to say his father was  "a man of
very robust and vigorous intellect."   The family was very
respectable, but lost the  greater part of its property, and,
in some measure, its importance, by persisting in its at-
tachment to the declining cause of the Pretender. Accord-
ing to his own account, he had a very precocious intellect,
and had obtained  a considerable knowledge of the Latin
language at the early age of four years.  Once, when
called from his boyish  play to compound medicines, he
showed his critical accuracy in pointing out to his father
a mistake in the Latin prescription, which drew from the
apothecary this authoritative injunction: " Sam, d—n the
language of the prescription—make up the mixture."  An
empty coxcomb, after having engrossed the attention of
the company for  some  time with  himself and his petty
ailments, observed to Dr. Parr, that he could never go out
without catching cold in his head.  " No wonder," said
the Doctor, pettishly; " you always  go out without any
thing in it."  " I cannot exactly  perceive the scope of
your argument, and therefore cannot adopt your opinion,"
said a gentleman, with whom Dr. Parr  had been arguing.
" Then, Sir, I can only say you have the dullness of lead
without its malleability."  It may be turious, as well as
interesting, to know what Dr. Parr's opinions  really were
on the subject  of medicine, and the medical men with
whom he so intimately associated.  Of the learned pro-
fessions, Dr. Parr considered the preference due, in many
respects, to the medical.  " Whilst I   allow," says  he,
" that peculiar  and important advantages arise from the
appropriate studies of the three learned professions, I must
confess, that in erudition, in science, and in habits of deep
and  comprehensive thinking, the pre-eminence must be
assigned, in some degree, to physicians."  Again he ob-
serves :  " The  most desirable  profession is that of medi-
cine : the practice of the law spoils a man's moral sense
and philosophic spirit; the church  is too bigoted and stiff- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
35
 starched ; but the study and practice of physic arc equally
 favourable to a man's moral sentiments and intellectual
 faculties."*   The Rev. W. Field, in his Life of Dr. Parr,
 observes, " I have  often heard him declare,  that he con-
 sidered the medical  professors  as  the most learned, en-
 lightened, moral, and liberal class of the community; and
 though he often lamented the scepticism on religious sub-
 jects which some have shown ; yet this, he thought, might
 be explained  on principles,  which  evince the  strength
 rather than the weakness of the human mind, contem-
 plating under certain circumstances  the  multiplicity and
 the  energy of physical  causes.t  But  if the  ' Religio
 Medici,' when weighed in the balance of the sanctuary,
 might, in some instances, be  found wanting;  yet he con-
 soled  himself,  he said, with reflecting on the many in-
 stances in which there was certainly the deepest convic-
 tion of religious truth, not merely declared by an exterior
 profession, but displayed in all its best and happiest effects
 on the heart and  conduct."   " In support of our sacred
 cause," he would often say, " might we not triumphantly
 appeal to such illustrious names as those of  Sir Thomas
 Browne, Sydenham, Boerhaave, and Hartley,  in days that
 are past; and, in our  own times, to those of Gregory, He-
 berden, Falconer, and Percival ?"
   There was no subject  on which Dr. Parr delighted
 to converse more than on the character and the preten-
 sions of the great men who, at different times, have ap-
 peared in the medical world.  Speaking of the most dis-
tinguished of all the ancient  physicians, Hippocrates, he
said, that he  had read much of his  works, as much as
any man in this country;  and he thought that the duties
of a physician  were  never more beautifully  exemplified
than in his conduct, or more eloquently described  than
in his writings.  He often  particularly noticed the atten-
* Dr. Gooch, in Blackwood's Magazine for 1825.
t Field's Life of Dr. Parr. 
36
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
tion which the  great  father of physic paid to the nature
and properties  of water, and  its effects on the  human
frame.  This he considered  as a subject of far more im-
portance to the medical practitioner than  is commonly
apprehended; and, perhaps, the observation was suggested
to his mind by  recollecting the laborious researches, di-
rected to that very object, by his much-respected friend,
Dr. Lamb, begun during his residence at Warwick, and
continued many years after his removal to London.   Cel-
sus he pronounced  " a very wise man," and  said, " his
works ought not only to be read, but read night and day,
by every medical student."   His style,  he said, is very
good  Latin; and if it were not so, he  ought still to be
read for the medical knowledge which he communicates.
Almost all that is valuable in Hippocrates, he remarked,
may be found clearly and beautifully epitomized in Celsus.
In recommending to a young physician the study of Are-
taeus, a bold and decisive practitioner in the reign of Ves-
pasian, whose works have ever  been admired for the ac-
curate  description  of diseases  which they contain, and
for the judicious mode of treatment which they prescribe,
" Aye," said he, " if I could find  one with a mind like Are-
taeus, he should be  my physician."   Speaking of Diosco-
rides, distinguished no  less as a botanist than as  a  physi-
cian, he said, that he sometimes read his works, and al-
ways with pleasure, though it is often difficult to translate
 his words, especially in the description of plants.  Tour-
 nefort,  Sibthorpe,  and  other travelling botanists, have
 taken, he thought, the only sure method of explaining the
 plants, both of Theophrastus and Dioscorides, by diligent
 researches  in  the  countries where they were originally
 found.   He looked upon Galen as decidedly one of the
 most learned  men who have  appeared  in  the medical
 world; though inferior in other respects, especially as a
 pathological observer, to Hippocrates  or  Aretreus.  The
 poem of Frascatorius, the celebrated physician of Verona,
 in the eighteenth century, being immtioned, Dr. Parr ob- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
37
served, that it was one of the most classical productions
which have appeared since the Georgics of Virgil; with
which, indeed, for its melodious  versification,  its  vivid
imagery, and its noble sentiments, it has often been  com-
pared.
   Descending from the ancients to the moderns, he  often
spoke  in praise of the literary acquirements and profes-
sional skill of Sir Thomas Browne, Sydenham, and  Har-
vey;  but pre-eminently his favourite medical writer was
Hermann Boerhaave; and  upon his genius, his attain-
ments, his important  works, and his noble character, he
was accustomed to expatiate, with  almost  rapturous de-
light.  It was he that opened,  Dr. Parr said, a new and
splendid era in the  science of medicine and chemistry ;
and to his instructions, delivered in his lectures and wri-
tings,  the wonderful discoveries and improvements of later
years may be  principally ascribed.  Next  to Boerhaave,
the glory of the Dutch school of medicine, stood the con-
temporary and friend of Boerhaave, Dr. Mead, the  illus-
trious  ornament of medical science in England, who was
eminently distinguished  not only for his professional  ta-
lent, but for his literary attainments, and for his fine  taste
in all the arts which adorn and improve human life.  The
Latin style of his works,  Dr. Parr said,  is entitled to  com-
mendation ; but,  he added,  though  a  good scholar, Dr.
Mead  was not skilful in writing Latin,  and was therefore
obliged to borrow the aid of Dr. Ward and Dr. Leather-
land.
   In Dr. Friend he admired  the man of profound erudi-
tion, as well as of extensive medical knowledge  ; and in
reading his works,  he always met, he said, the decp-
thinking philosopher, as well  as the  elegant writer.  Sir
George Baker he considered not only one of the best phy-
sicians, but also as one of the best scholars and writers of
Latin of his day ; and readily yielded to him, in  this last
respect, the palm of superiority over himself.   Dr. Aken-
side he extolled as a man of vast learning, as well  as of
                          4 
38
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
high talent," but united,  unhappily,  to  excessive  pride.
Cullen he thought a most  extraordinary man, and said,
that he once intended to write his life.  In Dr. Aikin he
acknowledged elegance of taste  and high  cultivation of
mind.  Dr.  Heberden  he called  " the amiable  and ac-
complished author of the ' Commentaries,' or, the history
of the diseases which came under his own observation,
written in pure and flowing Latinity."   Of Dr. Gregory,
well known for his useful  moral, as well as medical pub-
lications, Dr. Parr remarked, " that  his writings are ex-
tensively read, and that they do credit to the  ingenuity,
the sensibility, and the piety of the author."   With great
and unfeigned respect, Dr. Parr cherished the memory of
Dr. Percival, Dr. Arnold, and especially Dr. James John-
stone, of Worcester,  whom he describes  " as a man of
much intellectual vigour and various research;" but whose
life fell a sacrifice, at the age of 30, to  his humane and
zealous discharge of professional duty, in visiting the pri-
soners, during the period of a raging fever, in Worcester
jail.  No  medical practitioner ever  acquired, within the
same space of time, a higher reputation than this  young
physician ;  and his virtues, talents, and the valuable ser-
vices of his life, terminated under such  affecting circum-
stances by his death, have secured for him  a place  in the
grateful  remembrance of the city in which he lived and
died, and of all to whom his name and his merits were in
any degree known.   A monument  to  his memory was
erected in Worcester Cathedral, for which the inscription,
in Latin, was written by Dr. Parr.
   Of the members of the medical profession, whose  friend-
ship Dr. Parr cultivated whilst living, and  whom he enu-
merated in his " last will" amongst the number of his
friends, are : Dr. E. Johnstone and Dr. Mole, of  Birming-
ham ;  Dr. Lambe, Dr. Bright,  and  Sir Anthony Carlisle,
of London; the latter of whom he designates as " a skil-
 ful surgeon, a profound philosopher, a most animated wri-
ter, and a most valuable  friend."  Among his friends, he 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
39
also enumerates :  Dr. Hill, of Leicester ;  Dr. Bourne, of
Coventry ; and his own  medical attendants, Dr. J. John-
stone, Dr. A. Middleton,  Mr. Blenkinsop, and Mr. Jones.
In the same solemn  registry, he  has recorded the high
value at which he prized the friendship of  the very learn-
ed, scientific, and truly pious Dr.  Falconer, of Bath; and
of the eminently distinguished  Dr. Holme, " who," says
he, " in sincerity, in uprightness, in  professional skill, in
taste for reading classical authors, and in  the knowledge
of chemistry, zoology, and English  antiquities, has few
equals among his contemporaries."
   How extremely gratifying it is  to the members of a pro-
fession  who have  to struggle against the unreasonable
prejudices of the world, to have this testimony in their
favour pronounced by one of the most learned scholars of
his day.
   To be the instruments, however humble, of increasing
the happiness of others, is of itself a sufficient  reward to
the right thinking man, and to have the commendation of
those who are considered to rank among the great and
good, to be praised by those whom all men exalt, affords
an additional and a higher gratification to the conscien-
tious and upright physician.
   A wise and witty author has truly observed,  "that the
hope of gain and lucre, and different employments of men,
shape them  into a variety of strange forms."  In the six-
teenth, and part of the  seventeenth century,  the learned
professions  were  distinguished by  a number of absurd
customs, and carried the affectation of superlative wisdom
to a ridiculous extreme; their garb, gait, and gestures
were  grotesque, and resembled those of  magicians and
conjurors;  the physician was  disfigured  under a grave
and  solemn  countenance;  he was  caparisoned  in an
enormous wig, a full-trimmed  coat, buttoned to the bot-
tom, and^ other extravagant  paraphernalia.  The  intro-
duction of more liberal  ideas, above all, dramatic  satire,
enforced by  stage exhibitions, have  contributed  to free 
40'             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
the profession from this scholastic pedantry and stupid
pomposity; to  banish  from science dunces and  artful
cheats, concealed under the mask of wisdom and cloak of
gravity.  The pensive look is  now less studied, and the
manners have become less stiff and supercilious.

      Physic of old, her entry  made,
      Beneath the immense full bottom's shade,
      While the gilt cane with solemn pride,
      To each sagacious nose  applied,
      Seemed but a necessary prop,
      To bear the weight of wig at top.

   The wig, in former times, was looked upon  as no  in-
considerable part of the insignia of a medical man, whose
costume was completed by a full dress suit, &.c.

     Each son of Sol, to make him look more big,
     Had on a large, grave, decent, three-tailed  wig.

   With the polished Reynolds  departed the last silk coat
among  the doctors.  The gentlemanly Samuel Howard,
and the neat Dick  Grindall,  bore the last remnnnts of
chirurgical costume; and, with  Devaynes and Delmay-
hoy, expired the magnificent peruke which characterized
the "Opifer per orbem."  Even in the middle of the last
century, so much importance was attached to it, that  Dr.
Brocklesby's barber was in the habit of carrying a band-
box through  the High Change, exclaiming, "Make way
for Dr. Brocklesby's wig!"   But of all  wigs the most
renowned, was that of Delmahoy, which was so cele-
brated in the song, beginning,

           If you would see a noble wig,
           And in that wig a  man look big,
           To Ludgate hill repair, my joy,
           And gaze on  Doctor Delmayhoy. 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             41

  Tliis  eccentric character gave rise  to the following
clever and humorous verses:—

       " Delmayhoy sold infusions and lotions,
           Decoctions, and gargles, and pills;
         Electuaries, powders, and potions,
           Spermaceti, salts, scammony, squills.

         Horse aloes, burnt alum, agaric,
           Balm, benzoine, blood-stone and dill;
         Castor, camphor, and acid tartaric,
           With specifics for every ill.

         But with all his specifics in store,
           Death on Delmayhoy one day did pop;
         And, although he had doctors, a score,
           Made poor Delmayhoy shut up his shop."

  Much unjust odium has been thrown upon  medical
men, on account of their supposed adherence to atheistical
principles.  A  more unfounded calumny never  was in-
vented.   Many of our most  distinguished  medical men
have been as eminent for  their piety as for their medical
and general learning.  Even  in the present day, some of
the brightest ornaments of society, whether considered
as members of our religious establishments, or as literary
men, are to be found in the ranks of the medical profes-
sion.
  It is not very apparent that the study of medicine, in
its several departments, has any direct and  remarkable
tendency to render men irreligious  and immoral, beyond
the ordinary influence  of many other studies.   Young
men, who have little or no tincture  of  piety, who do not
regard the scriptural standard  of  religion as the true
measure of moral  conduct, when collected together, will
probably encourage and embolden each other  in irregular
practices.  A youth of some reading and reflection, into
                           4* 
 42              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

 whose mind the principles of religion have been instilled
 at an early age, if he fall under the dominion of immoral
 propensities, will be uneasy, while his life is so  much at
 variance with what  he knows to be his  duty;  he must,
 therefore, either relinquish  his evil  habits, or live in the
 service of sin, under the continual reproaches of his con-
 science, or he  must find some expedient by which the
 voice of conscience may be silenced.
   The graceful and  happy union of learning and philo-
 sophy, with a submission to revealed religion,  has been
 frequently exhibited  to the world by several of the most
I illustrious  characters  that ever adorned the  seats of
 science; and to these ingenuous spirits an appeal may be
 safely made,  and  the  question securely  rested, whence
 they derived their knowledge of God and of themselves.
 The volumes  of Bacon, and of Newton, of Pascal, and of
 Boyle; of Leibnitz, Grotius, and  Locke;  of  Arnauld,
 Malebranche, Clarke,  Euler, Maclaurin,  Ray,  Derham,
 Hales, &,c, concur in giving honour to the Holy Scrip.
 tures, in acknowledging them as the only sure guides to
 the  knowledge of those divine tru(hs which can make us
 " wise unto salvation."
   As the following remarks of Dr. Gregory so fully de-
 monstrate the falsity  of the charge  in question, we offer
 no apology for quoting  them in full.  He observes, with
 expressions of just and honest  indignation, " that  the
 charge is absolutely  false; I will venture to assert, that
 the  most eminent of our faculty have been  distinguished
 for their regard to  religion.  I shall only  mention, as ex-
 amples, Harvey, Sydenham, Arbuthnot, Boerhaave, Stahl,
 and Hoffman.   It is  easy,  however, to sec whence this
 calumny has  arisen.   Men, whose minds have  been en-
 larged by extensive  knowledge, who have been accus-
 tomed to think and reason upon all subjects with a liberal
 and generous  freedom, are  not apt   to become  bigots to
 any sect or system  whatever.   They  can be  steady to
 their principles,  without thinking ill of those who differ 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
43
from  them; but they  are  particularly impatient of the
authority and  control of men who pretend to lord it over
their consciences, and to dictate to them what they are to
believe in every article where religion is concerned.  This
freedom of spirit, this moderation and charity for thos: of
different sentiments,  have frequently been  ascribed, by
narrow-minded  people, to infidelity, scepticism,  or, at
least, lukewarmness in religion; while, at the same time,
some men, who were sincere and devout Christians, ex-
asperated by such  reproaches, have expressed themselves
in an unguarded manner, and thus given their  enemies
an  apparent ground of clamour against them.  This, I
imagine, has been  the real source of that  charge of infi-
delity so often and so unjustly brought against physicians.
I will venture  to affirm, that men of the most enlarged
minds, clear and solid understandings, who have  acted in
life with the greatest propriety, spirit, and  dignity, and
who have been regarded as the most useful  and  amiable
members of society, have never been the men who have
openly insulted, or insidiously attempted  to ridicule the
principles of religion;  b.ut, on the contrary, have been its
best and warmest  friends.  Medicine, of all professions,
should be the least suspected of leading  to impiety.  An
intimate acquaintance with the works of nature  elevates
the mind to the most sublime conceptions of the Supreme
Being, and at  the same time dilates the heart with the
most pleasing  prospects of Providence.   There are some
peculiar  circumstances in the  profession of  a  physician,
which should  naturally dispose him to  look beyond the
present scene of things, and engage the heart on  the side
of religion.  He has many opportunities of seeing people,
once the gay and tiie happy, sunk in deep retired distress;
sometimes devoted to a certain but painful and lingering
death; sometimes  struggling with bodily anguish,  or the
still fiercer tortures of a distracted mind.   Such afflictive
scenes, one  would suppose, might soften  any heart, not
dead to every feeling of humanity, and make it reverence 
44
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
that religion which alone can  support the soul  in  the
most complicated distresses ;  that religion, which teaches
us to enjoy life with cheerfulness, and to resign it with
dignity."
  Were we asked, we could point out the names of many
living distinguished medical men, whose moral character
and piety could not for  a moment be questioned.  Men,
whose  actions, and not  professions, demonstrate the cha-
racter  of their  minds.  In all large bodies of men, many
will undoubtedly be found who entertain very  erroneous
notions concerning religion;  but we utterly  repudiate the
assertion,  that  the medical  profession, more  than any
other  body  of  professional gentlemen, are open to  the
charge of infidelity and scepticism.
  A question,  very frequently  asked,  is this: has any
good resulted from the medical discoveries of the present
age ?   To this  interrogatory, we say, that it can be  de-
monstrated by a  reference to statistical documents, that
in proportion as  the  different branches which form  the
foundation of the science of medicine have been improved,
so in proportion has the duration  of human life been in-
creased.
   It is a fact, capable of demonstration, that since  the
healing art reached that point of cultivation, which has
entitled it to rank  among the sciences, disease has been
gradually decreasing, both in frequency, malignancy, and
fatality.  And it is equally capable of demonstration, that
the degree of perfection with which anatomy has been
studied, at any successive periods, may be safely taken as
the rule by which the progress of all the branches of me-
dicine may be ascertained.  And on what else should it
depend; how much docs a  watchmaker know about a
watch, by  counting its beats, and looking at the outside 1
As  anatomy  has  been encouraged, so has medicine pro-
gressed.   Wherever  dissection  was forbidden, surgery
declined; and even in  the  present  day, the  schools  of
medicine, in which dissection  is most liberally practised, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
45
.send out  into society, surgeons and physicians, who sel-
 dom  fail to prove, in after life, the  accuracy of Bailie's
 assertion,  that " the dead body is  that great  basis on
 which we  arc to build the knowledge that is to guide us
 in distributing life and health to our fellow-creatures."
   Sir William Petty (who died 150 years since),  states,
 that the proportion of death to cures, in St. Bartholomew's
 and St. Thomas's Hospitals, during 1741, was one in
 ten;  during 1780, the mortality had diminished  one in
 fourteen; during 1813, one in  sixteen; and that during
 the  year  1827, out of 12,494 patients, 259  only were
 buried, or,  one in forty-eight.   His Royal Highness the
 Duke of Sussex has justly observed, " such is the  advan-
 tage which has been already derived from the  improve-
 ment of medical science in  the study of anatomy, that
 comparing the value of life as it is now calculated, to what
 it was  an hundred years ago,  it has absolutely doubled.
 The most fatally malignant diseases have become com-
 paratively mild in the hands  of modern  physicians.  The
 entire half of our population were at one time destroyed
 by one disease alone—the small-pox;  the mortality of
 vvkich, at the present time, is but partial.   Typhus fever
 was  once  accustomed to  visit this  country  in annual
 epidemics, and to slay one out of every  three  whom  it
 attacked;  whereas, in the present day, it is seldom seen
 as an epidemic, and its average mortality does not amount
 to one in  sixteen.  Measles, scarlet-fever, hooping-cough,
 and consumption, are now no  longer regarded  with the
 extreme terror in which they were once viewed.  From
 the  year  17D9 to  1808,  the  mortality of consumption
 amounted to about 27 per cent, of those who became ill;
 from 1808 to 1813, it diminished to 23 per  cent.; and
 from 1813 to 1822,  it still  further decreased to 22 per
 cent.
   As anatomy was more attended to, surgery propor-
 tionally advanced; until, in  the days  of Harvey,  (who
 discovered  the circulation of  the  blood, in 1610,)  bold 
46
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
and important operations were attempted.  The extreme
clumsiness and cruelty with which  they were then per-
formed could scarcely be credited, had we not in our pos-
session, some descriptions of them, by those who operated.
The preceptor of the immortal Harvey describes, what he
considers an  improved and easy operation, in the follow-
ing terms : " If it be (speaking of tumours,) a  movable
one, I  cut it away with a red hot knife, that sears as it
cuts;  but if  it be adherent to the chest, I  cut  it with-
out bleeding, with  a wooden or horn knife,  soaked  in
aquafortis, with which, having cut the skin, I dig out the
rest with my fingers !!"                         <
  It is a little more than  fifty years ago, when Mr.
Sharpe, one of the  most eminent surgeons in London at
that time, denied the possibility of the thigh-bone being
dislocated at the hip joint; an  accident which occurs
daily, and which  the merest bone-setter  in the kingdom
can now detect.
  In the treatment of simple wounds  surgeons were, at
one time, really very rude and  cruel.  Instead of bring-
ing the edges of the wound  together, and endeavouring
to unite them by the first intention, as it is practised^
the present day, the wound was filled with dressings and
acid balsams, or  distended with tents  and leaden tubes,
in order  to force the wound into a painful  suppuration,
which they considered necessary to effect a cure.
  In those days, every flap of skin,  instead of being re-
united, was cut away; every open wound was dressed as
a sore, and every deep  one  was plugged up with a tent,
lest it should  heal.  Tents, syndons, setons, leaden canu-
las, and strong injections, were  among the  chief imple-
ments  of ancient surgery.  The lips of a  wound  were
never put together; if it  was not large  and  free,  their
iule was to dilate it, but never with the knile; with a
sort of forceps, they tore it open;  they seldom made
counter openings  to let out the matter, and the most sim-
ple wounds  were often forced  into  malignant  sores. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
47
These  long tents were thrust into wounds of the  neck
and cheek, until the neck or head swelled enormously.
Even  in compound fractures, they thrust their dressings
betwixt the ends of the broken bones, as if they had been
afraid of the formation of callus.
  At  one period, all wounds were cured by the process
of sucking; it  was chiefly  practised in the  army, the
drummers  of the regiment  were the suckers;  and the
common soldiers submitted to this cure secretly, in order
to conceal their quarrels from their officers and priests.
The practice of duelling  had proceeded  to such lengths
in France, that even  the common soldiers settled  their
drunken disputes with their swords.  A hasty word be-
twixt soldiers of two regiments in garrison, established a
perpetual quarrel between the corps.  They went out in
the evening to the skirts of some adjoining  wood, and
fought  by scores;  when they  happened to  quarrel in
taverns, they fixed their pocket-knives upon the brooms
and mopsticks; and  when  their knives and side-arms
were taken from them, they fought with sticks sharpened
and  hardened  in  the fire,  which we find made  more
desperate wounds  than  tempered  swords ;  wounds,
bruised, livid,  and sloughing, like those  made  by  shot.
When a party went out to the wood, the drummer of the
regiment, or some  good experienced sucker, went along
with them.  The duel ended the  moment that one of the
combatants received a wound;  the sucker immediately
applied  himself to suck the wound, and  continued suck-
ing and discharging the blood until the wound ceased to
bleed; and then, the  wound being clean, he applied  a
piece of chewed paper upon the mouth of it, tied up the
limb with a tight bandage, and the  patient walked home.
The savoir-faire, or trick or cunning of this way of  cure,
consisted in making grimaces and contortions, signing
their patient with a sign of the cross, and muttering be-
tween their teeth some unintelligible jargon.   All  their
care was to keep this profession among themselves; and 
48
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
it was  from this profanation of the name of Christ, and
this abuse of the sign of his cross, that there arose a hot
war between the suckers and priests: the priests refusing
confession, extreme  unction, or  any  sacrament  of the
church, to those who had undergone  these magical or
diabolical ceremonies; while the suckers, on the other
hand, refused to suck those who had any connexion with
the priests.   The former  were afraid of losing  the dues
of the  church, and the privilege of giving extreme unc-
tion, and  dismissing the  soul to heaven (for those  who
submitted to the  secret dressing were  usually  past all
relief before the secret was  disclosed to the  priest): the
latter,  on their parts, were  careful to  preserve a trade
which  was not without its emoluments.  Verduc observes,
SuxerurU quidem at non  sanguinem sed potius aurum;
" They were more skilful in sucking gold than blood."
  Contrast this barbarous  surgery with  the  improved
and rational principles which guide the surgeons of the
present day, and the conviction must be, that the science
of healing is in a vastly improved  condition.  The art of
surgery is not what it formerly was.  It does not consist,
as it did in bygone  days, in the performance of manual
operations.   Mere dexterity in using the knife  is not an
infallible  test of surgical skill.   The  man who,  by the
application of Hie principles of his art, can prevent the
mutilation of the human frame, is considered to take the
highest position in the ranks of his profession.
  The improvement in  medicine has been equally great.
Diseases  are  more  easily detected; the  cultivation  of
morbid anatomy  has thrown considerable  light  on the
situation of those structural alterations, which too often
baffle  the skill of the most  able  men  in the profession;
materia medica, chemistry,  and all the auxiliary sciences
which mutually bear upon and illustrate that of medicine,
have proportionally  advanced in improvement, and still
continue to do so.  The application of the stethoscope, in
 he detection of diseases of the thoracic viscera, has been 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              49

of the most essential service in enabling the physician to
discover, witli wonderful accuracy, the early  dawnings
of affections of the lungs and heart.  This subject, how-
ever, will be more minutely considered in another part of
this work.
  In  conclusion,  we  would  observe,  that if ever  the
science of medicine be destined to take an elevated posi-
tion, that rank, which it is fully entitled to claim, it must
be by the  application to the  study of its many branches
those  unerring principles of induction, which  the great
mind  of Lord Bacon has so fully developed in his master-
production.*  Let medical  men  study this work  more
than they have hitherto done, and much good to the sci-
ence which they investigate will be the result.
* The Novum Organum.
5 
50
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
                   CHAPTER  II.

               ECCENTRIC  MEDICAL MEN.

   Mounsey—Dr. Marryatt—Sir John Hill—Sir Richard Jebb
    Sir John Elliot—Dr. Radcliffe—Mr. John Abernethy.

  Whole volumes might be written on this subject, full
of interest and instruction !  Many of the most  distin-
guished ornaments of the  medical profession have been
most eccentric in their manners ; and  although the emi-
nence  they attained  cannot altogether be attributed  to
this circumstance, still we  ought not entirely to overlook
it in our calculation  of  the causes which have enabled
them to obtain so  great a degree of the confidence and
suppoit of the public.
  Many justly celebrated practitioners have been naturally
singular in their habits of  acting and  thinking, indepen-
dently of the position they held in  the medical  world:
others  have aped the manners of their superiors, hoping,
by this circumstance, to acquire notoriety and practice.
  Wc will not, in this place, pretend to inquire how much
the success of the late John  Abernethy was to be attributed
to his blunt eccentricity ;  but we may venture to assert
it was of service to him, notwithstanding his pre-eminent
talents would have commanded success, had he been the
very reverse of singular in  his deportment.
   The late Lord Erskine has observed, that  " it is in the
nature of every thing that is great and useful, both in the
animate and in  the  inanimate world, to be  wild and
irregular, and we must be  contented  to take  them with
the alloys which belong to  them, or live without them." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
51
   How many, in imitation of this great surgeon, have
assumed his  manners without possessing one particle of
his genius, as if roughness and  ill-breeding would alone
insure success in life;  of such men, well might it be
said—

              -------"This is some fellow,
   Who, having been praised for  bluntness, doth affect
   A saucy roughness, and constrains his gait
   Quite from his nature; he cannot flatter, he !
   An honest mind and plain—he must speak truth.
   These kind of knaves,  I know, which in this plainness,
   Harbour more craft, and more corrupted ends,
   Than twenty silly clucking observants,
   That stretch their duties nicely."

   It is said,  that there  are excesses of the suaviter in
modo, even more designing and censurable than the over-
acting of the fortiter  in re.  Dr. Gregory marks,  and
forcibly condemns the double-faced and fee-seeking satyr,
who blows south in the mansions of wealth, and north in
the hovels of poverty ; the cur,  who having grown rich by
compliance with good manners,  conceives himself indis-
pensable  to his employers, and  becomes rapacious  and
brutal upon the strength of his reputation ; and the servile
and fawning  sycophant, who, in exceeding the established
rules of good  breeding towards characters, despicable in
other respects than external splendour and magnificence,
forgets that his philosophy is but a name.*
  How is it that we  never  meet with  a physician, in a
dramatic representation,  but  he is treated as a solemn
coxcomb  and  a  fool?t  This  satire, however, cannot
  * Dr. Percival.
  t Moliere makes Beraldo, in the " Malade Imaginairc,"
say, " I don't know a more pleasant piece of mummery, or
any thing more ridiculous, than for one man to undertake
to cure another." 
52              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
properly be considered as levelled against the science  of
medicine, but against those who practise it;  not  against
the profession, but against its particular manners.  What
must be the state of medicine, when a learned physician
admits that, in order to insure  success, a medical man's
manners should be obsequious ?*
  Whatever may be said of  eccentricity,  it must be
evident to any person of observation, that a medical prac-
titioner's success depends materially  upon his  outward
appearance.  A  singular dress, an affected pomposity, a
mysterious air, all conspire to throw around the physician
indications of unusual sagacity which is sure to attract
the notice of those uninitiated in the ways of the world,
and to insure a degree of respect to which he  cannot have
a reasonable claim.
  How much affected dignity and  pomposity influence
the world,  may  be gleaned from the following fact:—
Dr. Hugh Smith, who was a medical Nimrod, and resided
at Bristol,  when  compelled  to  leave home, often  substi-
tuted for himself an elderly man, on whose head he placed
a cauliflower wig.   The deputy sat, subtle-looking, like
an  ape in  a  house-porch,  dispensing with facility  to
his applicants,  from drawers,  therapeutically  labelled,
" ointment  for sore eyes," " pills for the  bilious," et hoc
genus omne.   After the death of the principal, the " Mock
Doctor" succeeded to his practice, and the acquisition  of
an ample fortune!
  In bringing before our readers the more striking inci-
dents in the lives of some of our most celebrated eccentric
medical men,  we would premise that it is not our inten-
tion to enter into a minute detail of every circumstance
connected with their career, but merely to give the prin-
cipal events relating to  each physician, with anecdotes
illustrative  of their respective characters.
  We shall begin with Dr. Mounsey, who was for many
* Dr. Young's " Medical Literature." 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              53

years the Abernethy of his day.  He was physician to
Chelsea Hospital, and attracted considerable attention by
his many eccentricities:  of his early history  we  have
not been able to discover any records.  The "Chelsea
Doctor," as he was commonly called, was a truly original
character.  We  have collected many authentic anecdotes
of him, which we shall give without  any respect to chro-
nological arrangement.
   The Doctor was intimately acquainted with Sir Robert
Walpole, who knew the worth of his " Norfolk Doctor,"
as he called Mounsey, but neglected to reward it.  The
prime minister was  fond of billiards,  at  which   his
friend very much excelled him.  " How happens it," said
Sir Robert, in his social hour, " that  nobody will beat me
at  billiards  and  contradict  me but Dr.  Mounsey ?"
" They," said the Doctor, " get places; I get dinners and
praise."   The Duke of Grafton was  mean  enough to put
off paying him for a long attendance on  himself and
family, by promising  him a little place at Windsor.   " I
take the liberty to call on your Grace, to say the place is
vacant," said the Chelsea Physician.   " Ecod (his  Grace
had not  the most harmonious voice, and repeated  this
elegant word  in a very peculiar manner), Ecod, I knew
it; the Chamberlain  has just been  here  to tell me he
promised it to Jack."  The disconcerted and never-paid
physician retired, and informed the Lord Chamberlain of
what had passed, who said, " don't for the world tell his
Grace ; but, before he knew I had promised  it, here is a
letter to me, soliciting for a third person."
   By way of ridiculing  family pride, he used to confess,
that the  first  of his  ancestors, of any note, was a baker
and dealer in hops, a trade which enabled him, with some
difficulty, to support  his  family.  To procure  a present
sum, this ancestor had robbed his feather beds of their
contents,  and supplied their  deficiency with unsaleable
hops.  In a few years, a severe blight universally prevail-
ing, hops became more scarce, and of course enormously
                           5* 
54              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
dear; the hoarded treasure was  ripped out, and a good
sum procured for hops, which in  a plentiful season, were
of no value ; and  thus, the Doctor used to  add, " our
family hopped from obscurity."
  The mode in which he drew  his own teeth  was sin-
gular.  It consisted in fastening a short  piece of catgut
firmly round the affected tooth; the other end of the cat-
gut was,  by means of a strong knot,  fastened to a per-
forated bullet, with this a pistol was charged, and when
held in a  proper  direction, by- touching the trigger, a
troublesome companion was dismissed, and a disagreeable
operation evaded.
  Dr. Mounsey was always infatuated with a fear of the
insecurity of the public funds, and was frequently anxious,
in his absence from his apartments for a place of safety,
in which to deposit his cash and notes: going on a jour-
ney, during the hot weather in  July, he chose 'the fire-
place of his sitting-room for his treasury, and placed bank-
notes and cash to a considerable amount in  one  corner,
under the cinders  and shavings.  On his return, after a
month's absence, he found his housekeeper preparing to
treat some friends with a cup of tea, and by way of show-
ing respect to her guests, the parlour fire-place was chosen
to make the kettle boil; the fire had not long been lighted
when the Doctor arrived.  When he entered  the room
the  company  had  scarcely  began tea.   Mounsey  ran
across  the room, like  a madman, saying, " Hang it, you
have ruined me for ever; you have  burned all my bank-
notes."   First went the contents of the slop  basin, then
the  tea-pot; then  he rushed to the pump in the kitchen,
and brought a pail of  water, which  he threw partly over
the  fire and partly over the company,  who, in the utmost
consternation, got out of his way as speedily as possible.
His housekeeper cried out, " For G— sake take care, Sir,
or you will spoil the steel stove and fire-irons."   " D—n
the  irons," replied  the  Doctor; "you  have Tuined me—
you have burned my bank-notes."   " L—,  Sir," said the 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
65
 half-drowned woman, " who'd think of putting bank-notes
 in a Bath stove, where the fire is ready laid ?"   " And,"
 retorted he, " who would  think of  making a fire in the
 summer time, where there has not been one for several
 months ?"   He then pulled out the coals and cinders, and,
 at one corner, found the remains of his bank-notes, and
 one  quarter of them entire and legible.  Next day, Dr.
 Mounsey called upon Lord Godolphin, the high-treasurer,
 and  told him  the story.   His Lordship  said,  "that he
 would go with him to the  bank the  next day, and get the
 cash for him, through his  influence."  He accordingly
 ordered his carriage, and agreed to  meet Mounsey at the
 room in the bank,  where  some of the directors  daily
 attended.   The Doctor, being obliged to go to the Horse-
 Guards on business, took water at Whitehall for the city.
 In going down the river, he pulled out his pocket-book, to
 see if the remains of his notes were safe, when a sudden
 puff of wind blew them out  of his pocket-book into the
 river.   " Put back, you scoundrel," said the doctor,  " my
 bank-notes are overboard."
  He was  instantly obeyed, and the doctor took his hat
 and dipped it into the river, enclosing the notes and a hat
 full of water.  In this  state he put it under his arm, and
 desired to  be set ashore  immediately.   On landing, he
 walked to the bank, and was shown into the room where
 Lord Godolphin had just before arrived.  "What  have
 you under your arm ?" said his lordship.  " The d-----d
 notes," replied the doctor, throwing down his hat with the
 contents on the table, with  such a force  as to scatter the
 water into  the faces of all  who were standing  near  it.
 " There," said the doctor,  " take the  remainder of  your
 notes, for neither fire nor water will consume them!"
  Those who were acquainted with  Garrick admired and
 esteemed him ; but they universally confessed,  that, not-
 withstanding he eagerly sought and  enjoyed a joke at
another man's expense, he was nettled if it were raised at
his own.  Mounsey frequently retorted with success.  The 
56              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
little manager was sore, and lapsed, on one  particular
occasion, into an unjustifiable  asperity of reply, which
called forth the latent spark of resentment from the doc-
tor.  Severe recrimination, fomented by the ill-timed in-
terference of officious meddlers, who enjoyed the quarrel,
subsisted to the last.  There were some unfinished stanzas,
penned by the doctor, during Garrick's illness, on which
occasion many physicians had  been  called  in.  As soon
as Garrick died,  Mounsey destroyed the verses, and never
could be prevailed upon to repeat them.  The following
extracts will show how satirical they must have  been:—

      " Seven wise physicians lately met,
        To  serve a wretched sinner ;
        Come Tom, says Jack, pray let's be quick,
        Or  I shall lose my dinner."

  The consultation  then  begins, and the case of the
patient is stated ; after which follows;—

     " Some roar'd for rhubarb, jalap some,
      Alid some cried out  for Dover ;*
      Let's give him something, each man said—
      Why e'en let's give  him—over I"

  This  desperate counsel is, however, rejected by one of
the medical  sages, who, after some reflections on the life
and habits of the patient, declares that he has great con-
fidence in chinks, adding—

       " Not dried up skinks, you ninnies :
         The chinking that I recommend,
         Is  the famous chink of guineas."

  After  this a humorous altercation ensues, by  whom
this auricular  application of the purse should be made;
* Dover's Powder. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
57
with humility  and  politeness  towards each  other, for
which  physicians are  so  remarkable, each  declines the
honour to the superior rank of his order.   But the poet
shrewdly guesses that this backwardness arose from the
majority of them not choosing to exhibit the comfortless
state of their pockets.  At  length a physician, in  high
repute, with a purse replenished with guineas, approaches
with due solemnity the  patient's  bed; the  curtain is
withdrawn, and the glittering  gold shaken at the sick
man's ear.

       " Soon as the fav'rite sound he heard
         One faint effort he  tried :
         He  op'd his eyes, he stretched his hand,
         He  made one grasp, and died."

Lord Bath made a vain attempt to reconcile these two old
friends: " I  thank you," cried  Mounsey, " but why will
your lordship trouble  himself  with the squabbles  of a
merry-andrew and a quack doctor ?"
  No one who pretended to understand Mounsey's cha-
racter, can forget that it was impossible for folly or affec-
tation to pass undetected, and, seldom, with  impunity, in
his company.  A young clergyman, whose sound under-
standing and good heart were indisputable,  was affected
with a solemn theatrical mode of speaking  at  times, ac-
companied with a mincing,  finical gesture, bordering on
the coxcomb.  This foible did not escape the eagle-eye of
his friend, who well knew  his worth, and would not hurt
his feelings; the doctor, therefore, took an  opportunity
when they were alone  to censure him, and  agreed  that,
whenever he saw the " affected dramatica,"  as he called
it, coming on, as a signal, always to  offer his  snuff-box,
with two smart raps on the lid of it, to prevent him  from
lapsing into  such a bad habit.   The  gentleman alluded
to, as a sterling proof of his good sense, spoke  ever after.
wards of that circumstance with gratitude.  A visible 
58             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
 improvement took place in  the deportment of the divine,
 and Mounsey was  probably instrumental in  procuring
 preferments for him, as  well  as in his obtaining a wife
 with a handsome dower.
   Dr. Mounsey was in the  habit of the closest intimacy
 with Garrick, whose fascinating powers of conversation,
 and elegant manners, were diametrically opposed  to those
 of Mounsey.  The doctor, during a long intercourse with
 the great and gay,  invariably maintained a plainness of
 comportment, which was by no means an  unpleasing
 one ; nor could he ever be persuaded to sacrifice sincerity
 at the shrine of abject flattery.  He spoke the truth, and
 what sometimes gave offence, " the whole  truth,  and no-
 thing but the truth," which  afforded  a frequent opportu-
 nity to ignorance and  malignity to cry him down  as a
 cynic.   This difference  of manner  between him and
 Garrick, was productive of a mutual, but by no means an
 unfriendly, interchange of raillery.  To raise a laugh at
 the doctor's expense, was  the amusement of many an
 hour at Hampton.
  Garrick  one  evening, on his return from Drury Lane,
 where he had been performing, told the doctor, that wish-
 ing to see a favourite scene  acted by a performer at Co-
 vent Garden, then very popular, he had slipped from his
 own stage  very slily,  and  trusted an underling actor,
 known by the name of Dagger Mar, to supply his  place
 for  a few minutes, which was only to stand  silent and
 aloof, and that he had returned soon  enough to  resume
 his part in the dialogue of the scene.
  The doctor credulously swallowed  this story, and  rea-
dily circulated it with much  delight; the town  enjoyed
the joke, and he was. heartily laughed at for his pains.
  In advancing sums to assist inferior tradesmen Moun-
 sey was ever  ready, often with little prospect of having
the money returned.  Not long before his death, the doc-
tor advanced  a  servant, retiring from a gentleman's ser-
vice, an hundred pounds to set him up in business.   The 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
59
 tradesman had  applied to his  master to assist him, " a
 fine delicate woman's man," who trembled at a breath of
 wind: he generously lent him  twenty pounds, which,
 however, he made him repay in a fortnight.   This " bug
 with  gilded  wings," as the doctor used to  style him,
 would lavish treble the sum on some  squeaking eunuch,
 or on some new furniture for his phaeton, in which, by
 the bye, he was  often afraid to ride.  " Nature certainly
 at first designed him for a woman," said Mounsey, in one
 of his peevish moments, " but was unwilling to disgrace
 the sex."
   During a prevailing sickness in the doctor's neighbour-
 hood, all intercourse with his family was interdicted by a
 serious letter sent  to him.  A correspondence by post,
 however, was admitted; but the  billet-doux was obliged
 to pass quarantine for a night and a day, or, as the doctor
 termed it, to be bleached.   If he met them  in his post
 chaise, on the road, the glasses of the  coach  were care-
 fully and closely shut up, and a waving  of hands was the
 only personal civility that passed between  himself and
 his intimate friends for seven months.
  " We are afraid of you, doctor, you come from a sick
 room," exclaimed the petit  maitre.  "  You often make
 me sick," replied Mounsey, " but  never afraid."
  The windows of Dr. Mounsey's apartment looked upon
 the college court and walls.  When he  had arrived at a
 very advanced age, many members  of the faculty, who
 thought this situation extremely desirable, and the doctor
 literally an incumbent, most  naturally looked  forward to
 the termination of his existence ;  and the applications to
 the minister to succeed Dr. Mounsey were innumerable.
 In  consequence  of their ardent hopes of the place, tho
 court of Chelsea Hospital used to be the favourite walk
 of the medical   candidates.  Here they used to enjoy
themselves in the contemplation of the advantages of the
situation, its vicinity to the metropolis, and the beauty of
the surrounding  scenery.   Coach-houses gratis, and an 
 60              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

 hundred other agreeable anticipations, had certainly their
 due weight, while the doctor, sitting at his window, used
 to enjoy his own thoughts, and smile at their  presump-
 tion.
   One  day this humourist saw, from his observatory, a
 physician, accompanied by his friend, who were taking a
 survey of the spot.  The friend was pointing out  to the
 candidate the  pleasant situation of the medical  apart-
 ments, and enumerating the various advantages  of the
 college  residence.  As Mounsey was fond of teasing, he
 immediately  descended.  A few words served for his in-
 troduction ; when turning to the physician, he said,
   " So,  sir, I find  you are one of the candidates to suc-
 ceed me!"
   The physician bowed, and proceeded:
   " But you will be confoundedly disappointed."
   " Disappointed!"  said the physician, with quivering
 lips.
   " Yes," returned Mounsey, " you expect to outlive me;
 but I discern from your countenance, and other concomi-
 tant circumstances, that you are deceiving yourself—you
 will certainly die first: though as I have nothing  to ex-
 pect from that event, I shall not rejoice at your death, as
 I am persuaded you would at mine."
  This was actually the case : the candidate lived  but  a
 short time, and Dr. Mounsey was so diverted with check.
 ing the  aspiring hopes of his  brethren  of the faculty,
 that whenever  he saw a  physician on the look-out, he
 used to go down and confront them in the same manner.
He did so to several, and what is singularly extraordinary,
his prognostications were in every instance verified. The
medical speculators shrunk aghast from Chelsea; so that
at the death of the doctor, the minister was not engaged
by a single promise, nor had  he for some time a  single
application for the place of physician to the college.
  Taylor in his Records relates the following anecdote of
Mounsey :—" The doctor told me that he  was once  in 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
61
 company with another physician and an eminent farrier.
 The physician stated that, among the difficulties of his
 profession, was that of discovering  the maladies of chil-
 dren, because they could not explain the symptoms of
 their disorder.  « Well,' said the farrier,' your difficulties
 are no greater than mine, for my patients,  the horses, are
 equally unable to explain their  complaints.'   «Ah!' re-
 joined the physician, ' my brother doctor  must conquer
 me, as he has brought h'is cavalry against my infantry.' "
 With regard to religion, after long study, and  much read-
 ing Dr. M. was a 6taunch supporter of the  Unitarian doc-
 trine, and early imbibed  an unconquerable  aversion to
 bishops and  church establishments.  He denounced the
 Athanasian doctrine in no measured  language; in fact,
 whenever the subject was  mentioned, he  burst into the
 most vehement expression of abhorrence and disgust.
   Dr. Mounsey was a man of strong passions, pointed
 wit, and lively imagination.  His wit was ardent, insa-
 tiable, and often  troublesome; but then  his communica-
 tion was rapid, copious, and interesting; he possessed  a
 vein  of humour, rich, luxuriant, and, like  the nature of
 all humours,  sometimes gross, and inelegant.  His wit
 was not the keen, shining,  well-tempered  weapon  of a
 Sheridan, a Beauclerck, or a Burke; it partook rather  of
 the nature of  the irresistible  massy sabre  of  a Cossack,
 which at the time it cuts down by the  sharpness of its
 edge, demolishes by the weight of the blow.   To these
 qualities were added deep penetration, and  an incredible
 memory, which poured forth in an inexhaustible flow  of
 words, the treasures of past years, which  at  times, like
 other treasures, were not without  their dross.  He was a
 storehouse of anecdote, a reservoir of good  things, and a
 chronicle of past times.  His faults he either  would  not,
 or could not,  conceal; they were prominent  to  all:—a
vitiated taste, a neglected dress,  unseemly deportment,
and disgusting language, formed  the marked  character-
istics of this  singular  man;  who even on  his deathbed,
                         6 
62
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
maintained all the force of his singularity, by bequeath-
ing  his body for dissection, an old  velvet coat to one
friend, and the  buttons of it to another.   In his will he
inveighs bitterly against  bishops, deans, and chapters;
and leaves annuities to two clergymen who had  resigned
their preferment on account of the Athanasian doctrine.
  Dr. Mounsey died, at  his apartments in Chelsea Hos-
pital, December 26th, 1788, at the advanced age of ninety.
five.
  The following epitaph  was written by himself, after
having been much teased by visiters who were anxious to
succeed him.

" Here lie my old bones: my vexation now ends:
  I have lived much too long for  myself and my friends.
  As to churches  and churchyards which men may call
      holy;
  'Tis a rank piece of priestcraft, and founded in  folly.
  What the next world may be, never troubled my pate;
  And be what it may, I beseech you,  O fate!
  When the bodies of millions rise up in a riot,
  To let the old carcass of Mounsey be quiet."

  Mounsey contributed  nothing to the literature  of his
profession.   He  is represented as having been a  good
practical physician, and much respected by all who knew
him, and had occasion to avail themselves of his profes-
sional services.  He  was passionately fond  of theatrical
exhibitions, and  a friend of the drama.   He  was at one
period  of  his life the intimate  friend and  associate of
Garrick, who often spoke highly of the  doctor's talents
and humour.   He attended the celebrated  actor in a dan-
gerous illness, and succeeded  in curing him after all the
other physicians had  given him over.
  In our enumeration of eminent eccentric physicians
we must not forget Dr. Wiluam Butler, of Clare Hall, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
63
Cambridge, who was one of the greatest physicians, and
the most capricious humourist of his time.   His sagacity
in detecting  disease was  very great.   Mr. Aubrey says
that it was Butler's usual custom to sit  among  the boys
at St.  Mary's Church in Cambridge; and that having
been once sent for to King James at Newmarket, in obe-
dience to one of those whimsical  caprices which  distin-
guished  him so much, he suddenly turned back  to go
home; and so strangely restive was this singular man in
his oddities, that the  messenger was  obliged to compel
him by force  to make his visit to the king.
   The irregular indulgence of these fantastical humours
did not lessen his character  as a physician, however it
might have affected his interests.  No man, of his time,
enjoyed so general and so deserved a reputation.
   Aubrey relates the  following story of Butler, which he
says was the  occasion of his  first being taken notice of:
—A clergyman, in Cambridgeshire, by excessive applica-
tion in composing a learned sermon, which he  was to
preach before the king, at Newmarket, had brought him-
self into such a way, that  he could not sleep. His friends
were advised to give him opium, which  he took in so
large a  quantity, that it threw  him  into a  profound
lethargy.  Dr. Butler, who was sent for, from Cambridge,
upon seeing  and hearing his case, flew into a passion,
and  told his wife, that she was in  danger of being hanged
for killing  her husband, and  very abruptly left the room.
As he was  going through  the yard, on his return  home,
he saw several  cows, and asked her  to whom they be-
longed ; she said, to her husband.   " Will  you," says the
Doctor, "give me one of these cows, if I can restore him
to life ?"  She  replied,  " With  all my heart."  He pre-
sently ordered a  cow to  be killed, and  the patient to be
put into  the  warm carcass, which, in a short  time,  re-
covered him.   Granger says,  " the reputation for  physic
was  very  low in England before Butler's time; hypo-
thetical nonsense was reduced  to a system, not only in 
64
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
medicine, but also in other arts and sciences."^  Butler
died, aged 83, in 1618.
  In the last century, lived Dr. Marryat, a very eccen-
tric  character.    He  was  also  a man of considerable
ability.   His good fortune, in restoring  to health some
patients  who had long been  afflicted with painful and
dangerous maladies, acquired him a reputation, which
quickly enabled him  to keep  his carriage; but he was
improvident, and made no provision for  the  infirmities
which usually attend the bon-vivant; and, in consequence,
was, towards the close of his  career, much reduced.   In
the midst of his poverty, he, nevertheless, strenuously and
haughtily refused the assistance of some very near  rela-
tives, of the highest respectability, who  would willingly
have comforted his  old age,  if the pride of his spirit
would  have permitted them.  He was a  man of strict
integrity, and was always punctual to the utmost of his
abilities, when it was in his power.   In  his latter days,
when he imagined his credit was  bad,  he applied to a
Mr. A-----, and  abruptly said, " You don't know me;
but will you trust me with a bed, to sleep upon?"  The
reply was in the affirmative:  " Well, then," said he, " I
shall pay you on such a day."  Exactly at the appointed
time, the doctor called, but not finding Mr. A. at home,
he wrote a note, saying, " Why do you make me a liar ?
I called to pay you; send  for your money this evening,
or I will throw  it into the street."
  In his last illness, a friend came to see him, to whose
questions respecting his health, he replied, " I am very
bad; but it is not worth your  while  to stay and  see an
old man die."   Afterwards, in the course of the conversa-
tion, he said, "the world supposes that I am an atheist,
but I  am  not; I  know  and  believe that there is an
Almighty God,  who made  me, and will not suffer me to
perish ;  and, therefore, I am not afraid to die."
* Aubrey's MSS. in Asthmole's Museum. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
G5
  This  eccentric physician's  death  was caused by  his
obstinately refusing to take proper medicines, until  his
disease  had taken too firm a hold  of his constitution.
The mention  of physic  threw him into convulsions.
When  he found he was sinking  rapidly, he  said to a
medical friend, who was standing by his bedside, " cannot
you give me something to relieve me ?"  " It is too late,"
replied the doctor.  " Oh, what  a fool I have been towards
myself," exclaimed poor Marryat,  a few minutes before
he ceased to breathe !

  In 1716, the famous  Sir  John Hill flourished in the
metropolis; he  was  originally an  apothecary in  St.
Martin's  Lane.   Hill was  known to the world  as  the
doctor  on whom that well-known epigram was written:
              " For physic and farces,
                His equal there scarce is,
                His farces are physic,
                His physic a farce is."
  Hill  wrote  several  farces, which were brought out on
the stage, and  very  severely  handled by the critics of
the day.
  Hill once made his appearance at the Duke of Rich-
mond's house, attired  in elegant mourning, with servants,
and  a  handsome chariot.   He said, that  a  large estate
had been unexpectedly bequeathed  to him, that he had a
borough at his command, and was come to lay it at the
Duke's  feet.   This farce was kept up for  a  fortnight;
and then the whole was found to  be a fabrication,  and
the Duke would never after suffer him to come into the
house.   It was a conversation  at Dr. Watson's, that first
made Hill a quack.   Hill's poverty was mentioned,  and
Dr. Watson was wondering that  Hill,  amongst  all his
schemes,  had  never attempted quackery, when the field
was open : this  was reported to Hill, by-one of the com-
pany, and soon after  came out one of  his medicines;
                          6 
66
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
\
some of these, however, had not  much  success ; but the
tincture of sage, and balsam of honey,  sold so well, that
Ridley, the bookseller, in St. James's Street, once assured
Mr. Hudson, that he sold of them, to the amount of .£30
per week ;  and that there was a still greater demand for
them in the city.
  Hill was once engaged in several periodical works, viz,
" The  Lady's Magazine,"  " A System of Divinity,"  a
work on  " Cookery," and several Voyages  and Travels.
It has been humorously said, of this eccentric character,
that he was
" The writer on snuff, valerian, and sage,
The greatest impostor and quack of his age;
The punishment ordered for all such sad crimes,
Was to take his own physic, and  read his own rhymes I"
  If you have  occasion for physicians, says the scholar
Salernitina, there are three  to whom you may apply at all
times with safety; these are, a cheerful mind, moderate
exercise, and a regulated regimen. So said Dumoulin,
the  most celebrated physician of his time.  In his last
moments, being surrounded by several of his colleagues,
who were deploring his approaching death, he addressed
them thus :—" Gentlemen,  I  leave behind me three ex-
cellent physicians."   Each of the doctors  present con-
ceived  himself to be one of  the  three;  but they were
soon undeceived, when  Dumoulin informed them, that the
three he meant were water,  exercise, and regimen.
  Domoulin was fond of money.   He is said to have re-
ceived  some large  sums of money in  the shape of fees.
On  leaving  one of his patients,  who  had  made  him  a
handsome payment in coined  money, as the amount was
considerable, he put it into his pocket.   On returning
home, his first thought was to count the pieces he had
received.  The attention  he was  paying to his money,
prevented him from noticing a friend  who was waiting
for him in his apartment.  This person  said, " Allow me 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
67
to hand you a chair."   Dumoulin looked at him with a
contemptuous sneer, saying, " Learn,  blockhead, that a
man never feels  tired when counting his money."  A
great love  for this precious metal  is generally accom.
panied with a slight tincture of avarice.  In this respect
Dumoulin yielded to  no one.   On  one occasion he was
sent for to visit the Prince Count of Clermont, who was
indisposed.  The surgeon, who came for him, was in one
of the royal carriages, driven by  the  body coachman.
After a visit to the Prince, Dumoulin took the liberty of
using the carriage to  pay two or three other visits in the
neighbourhood of the  Prince's residence.  After the last
visit, he felt in his  pocket for  some time, and, at length,
finding sixpence, he offered it to the  coachman.  This
was, of course, refused, but he  frequently amused him-
self in repeating this talc to his associates.
  Dumoulin received three Louis for every  visit to the
Prince.  On another occasion, together with  M. Sylva, a
physician not less famous  than himself, but better in-
formed and less interested, he visited a man of high rank,
who was so dangerously ill, that at their last visit he died
in their hands.   This  sudden death, being  quite unex-
pected, it occasioned considerable consternation and mur-
mur in the apartment, particularly in the antechamber,
where the domestics allowed  themselves  to adopt  the
most licentious  conversation,  and  even  threatened the
doctors with unpleasant consequences.   M. Sylva, natu-
rally timid, was alarmed, and  communicated his fears to
Dumoulin, saying, " By what  door  shall we escape !"
Dumoulin, having no  fear  but that  of not  being  paid,
replied, " By the  door  where  they  pay,"  and intrepidly
left the apartment, followed by Sylva, who trembled with
fear.  A great miser, having heard  that Dumoulin far
surpassed him  in  saving,  waited  on  him  one  winter
evening  about eight o'clock.    He  found  him  sitting,
illuminated, or rather darkened, by the smoky light of a
single lamp.  On entering, he said to him, " I have heard 
68              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
that you are one of the  greatest economists existing; I
also am so inclined, but conscious  of my inferiority, I
should  be  happy to become your pupil on this  point."
" Is that all ?" replied Dumoulin, " Sir, be seated ;" in
saying  so, he  extinguished  the lamp.  " There  is  no
occasion for light to show us how  to talk, it only pro-
duces inattention.   Well, then, what is  your object?"
" Sir," cried the stranger, " the lesson of economy I have
already  received  is  enough.   I shall always remain  a
scholar  in respect to you.   I shall endeavour to profit by
the lesson I have received," and  so withdrew in the best
way he  could in the dark.
  Notwithstanding Dumoulin's love  of money, he could
resist the largest fee probably ever offered to a physician,
when to have  accepted  it, would have been to sacrifice
every thing which a man of honour  and principle holds
dear. It is related, that a man of  high  rank and title
waited upon this  physician, to request him to exert his
skill in  the performance  of a delicate operation, which
medical men, under peculiar circumstances,  are  some-
times compelled to perform.  Dumoulin refused to do it.
The illustrious stranger called a second time, and offered
the doctor  a fee of £2,000, on the condition of his per-
forming the operation, and keeping  the matter a secret
Tempting as this offer was, Dumoulin positively declined
to listen to the proposal, and gave orders to his servant
not to admit the stranger again to his presence, lest he
should forget those high chivalrous  principles which, to
the honour of medical men, have so  prominently charac-
terized  the minds of our most distinguished  physicians
and surgeons.
  Sir Richard Jebb was born in 1719, and after taking
his  degree  of  M.D.,  commenced practice  in Westmin-
ster, where, in  a short time, he set up his carriage, and
became  physician  to the  Infirmary  and to St. George's
Hospital.  He subsequently attended the Duke of Glouces-
ter, whom he wasJbrtunate enough to cure of a danger- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.               69
ous illness.  The king now appointed him physician ex-
traordinary to the court; and, in 1778, he was created a
baronet.   His reputation  had been  so great  for many
years previous to this period, that  the  king, being indis-
posed one day, desired him to be sent for; but being told
that it was etiquette to employ the  physician in ordinary,
he said, " Don't tell me  of your »ordinaries' or ' extraor-
dinaries;' I will have Jebb." He was for some time very
popular, being as much  employed as  Dr. Mead, and being
as successful as Radcliffc, whose bluntness and eccentri-
city he very much imitated.
  Poor Sir Richard Jebb! he was loved, notwithstanding
all  his eccentricity.   He  had the  bluntness, without the
rudeness  of  Radcliffe.  He had the medical perception,
but  not the  perseverance and temporizing politeness of
Warren.  In every respect, but fortune, superior to Tur-
ton; or to Baker, but in  classical  learning; and yet he
was the  unhappy slave  of bad passions.  His own sister
was for a long time  confined in a mad-house; the same
fate attended his cousin; and a  little adversity would
have placed  poor Sir  Richard there also.  There was an
impetuosity in his manner, and wildness in  his look, and
sometimes a strange confusion in his head, which often
made his friends tremble for the safety of the  sensorium.
He had a noble, a generous heart, and a pleasing frank-
ness among his friends; communicative of  experience
among the  faculty; earnest for the  recovery of his pa-
tients, which he sometimes manifested by the most im-
petuous  solicitude.  Those  that did not well  know him,
he  alarmed.  Those  that did, saw  the unguarded  and
rude ebullition of earnestness for success. " Like Corpo-
ral Trim, for his Lcfevre, I miss  him much," says Dr.
Lettsom,  speaking of Sir Richard, "for to  speak my
mind, 1 have but little faith in some pompous survivors.
Thy patients, on whom  thou imposed  most severe  re-
straints  in diet, thought thee an  unfeeling  mortal;  and
yet  I  knew  few were  possessed of  more sensibility.  I 
70
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
remember thy  speech,  'Good God! Dr. Lettsom,  Lord
------, whom I cured a year ago, has employed, lately,
another physician.'  ' Well, Sir Richard, you have  more
than you can do.'  ' I know it, but  this case has grieved
me, incessantly, for a fortnight.'   But when His Majesty
turned away poor Jebb, and substituted in his place Sir
George  Baker,  he never recovered  from the blow.  He
left Great George Street, and pretended to retire to Lambs
Conduit  Street.  But when the measles  brought him
again into the Royal Family, he was so agitated, that in-
stead of sleeping  at Windsor,  he got up twelve times
each  night, was hurried,  confused, tortured  about the
event, till at length, without apparent danger, he sent for
Baker, to consult.  After the termination of the measles,
his own debility ensued, which he injudiciously increased
by venesection;  the  effects of  which no  cordial could
remove.  But, poor fellow! a little before he  died, the
queen, in a letter, written  by a German lady, inquired
after his state of disease.   This letter rekindled the ex-
piring flame; he  grasped  it, and never parted with it,
till life  parted  with  his  poor emaciated  and weather-
beaten frame!
  It is stated that Sir Richard Jebb was very rough and
harsh in his manner.   He once observed to a patient to
whom he had  been very  rude,  " Sir, it  is my  way."
" Then," replied the patient, pointing to the door, " I beg
you will make that your way."
  Sir Richard, on being called to see a  patient, who fan-
cied  himself very ill, told him candidly what he thought,
and declined prescribing, thinking it unnecessary. "Now
you  are  here,"  said the patient, " I  shall be obliged to
you, Sir  Richard, if you will  tell me  how I  must live,
what I  may cat, and what not."  " My directions  as to
that  point,"  replied Sir Richard, « will be few and  simple.
You must  not  eat the  poker, shovel, or tongs, for they
are hard of digestion; nor  the bellows, because they are
windy;  but any thing else you please." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
71
   Sir Richard Jebb was the  first cousin  to  Dr. John
 Jebb, who had been a dissenting minister, well known
 for  his  political opinions  and writings.   His Majesty
 George III., used sometimes to talk to Sir Richard con-
 cerning  his cousin; and on one occasion  more particu-
 larly spoke of his restless reforming spirit,  in the church,
 in the university, &c.   " And please your  Majesty,"  re-
 plied Sir Richard,   "if my  cousin were  in heaven,  he
 would be a reformer."
   Sir Richard was  not distinguished for being tenacious
 of the language he made use of to patients.   Nothing
 used to make him swear more  than  the eternal question,
 " What  may I eat ?"   " Pray,  Sir Richard, may I eat a
 muffin ?"  " Yes, madam, the  best thing you can take."
 " O dear!  I am glad of that.   But, Sir Richard, you told
 me the other day, that it was the worst thing that I could
 cat!" "What would be  proper for  me to  eat to-day?"
 says another lady.  " Boiled turnips."  " Boiled turnips!"
 exclaimed the  patient, " you forget, Sir Richard,  I told
 you I could never eat boiled turnips."  " Then, madam,
 you must have a d----d vitiated appetite." The follow-
 ing lines were written for Sir Richard Jebb's epitaph :

      " Here, caught in death's  web,
       Lies the great Doctor Jebb,
         Who got gold dust just like Astley Cooper ;
       Did you speak about diet
       He would kick  up a riot,
         And swear like a madman or trooper.
      " When he wanted your money,
       Like sugar or honey,
         Sir Richard looked happy and placid;
       Having once touch'd  the cash,
      He was testy  and rash,
         And his honey was turned to an acid."

  Sir John Elliot,  as is  well  known, was  a merry,
eccentric little being, who talked pretty much at random, 
72
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
and oftentimes with no great  reverence for  the  subjects
which he talked upon.  On one occasion he called upon
a  patient,  Henderson, the celebrated  actor, to inquire
how  his  medicine  had succeeded, and in his northern
accent demanded of the patient, " Had he taken the palls
that he sent him ?"—" He had."   " Well! and  how did
they agree ? what had  they done ?"  " Wonders." replied
Henderson; " I survived them."   " To be sure you did,"
said the doctor, " and you must take more of them, and
live for ever: I make my patients immortal."   "That
is  exactly what I  am afraid of,  doctor," rejoined  the
patient.
  Elliot's medical skill was  thought highly of by Lord
George  Germain,  who exerted himself at court for the
purpose of procuring a baronetcy for  his  friend.   The
king, who  disliked  Elliot personally,  and regarded his
professional talents  with  as  little partiality, displayed
much repugnance to grant the request.  Yielding, how-
ever, at last  to the  importunities of Lord Germain, His
Majesty  observed, " Well, my Lord, since you desire it,
let it be : but remember, he shall  not be my physician."
" No, Sir."  answered Lord George, bowing, « He shall be
your Majesty's baronet and  my physician."  The king
laughed, and Elliot was raised to  the baronetage.
  It is difficult to  discover the reason of the king's per-
sonal dislike to this physician.  His abilities were by no
means to be despised, and his manners were extremely
fascinating.  It has been observed that  Elliot was a great
favourite of the ladies.  His female patients were always
falling in love with him; and  he often found himself
(considering  that  he  was a married  man)  placed  in
awkward situations.
  The danghter of  a nobleman, high in office, is said to
have been  desperately smitten with this physician, and
made overtures of marriage to him, not knowing that he
was  already  in that happy condition.   Elliot was com-
pelled to decline the proffered honour: and so amazed 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
73
 was the lady when she heard that he was already married,
 that she threatened to assassinate his wife if she had an
 opportunity.
   Sir John Elliot  was guilty of many acts of eccentricity.
 Among others it is recorded that he  had a death's head
 painted on the  panel of his carriage.  This was enough
 one would think to frighten away all his patients.  But
 it did not affect his practice.                         ^
   In the year 1650 was born the celebrated eccentric Dr.
 Radcliffe.  His  munificent acts of bounty pointed him
 out as one of the most celebrated of a profession that has
 always been  distinguished for its  liberality; and fully
 explain to us the esteem  in  which he was held by his
 contemporaries, to whom,  in  spite of his infirmities  of
'temper, the generosity of his disposition, and the spright-
 liness of his conversation,  rendered  him at all times a
 most agreeable companion.
   After Radcliffe's establishment at Oxford, where he had
 graduated in 1682, he soon acquired a  considerable degree
 of reputation as  a successful practitioner, though  his
 method of treating his patients was  very different from
 that generally pursued by the faculty.
   Two of  the  most eminent apothecaries  in  Oxford,
 therefore, did all they could to decry his mode of prac-
 tice, and to depreciate his  medical character.  Dr. Luff
 said "the cures he (Dr. Radcliffe) performed were only
guess work ;" and Dr. Gibbons, his other opponent, who
is said to have been an excellent Grecian, observed  of
Radcliffe, by way  of sarcasm, " That  it was a great pity
his friends had not made a scholar of him."
   Radcliffe was never a hard student.  He had very few
books of any kind; so few, indeed, that the learned Dr.
Ralph Bathurst, President of Trinity  College, when on a
visit at his chambers, in  the University, asked Radcliffe
"where his study was?"  Upon which he pointed to a
few phials and  a  skeleton, and answered, " Sir, this  is
                           7 
74
THYSIC AND PHYSICIANS,
Radcliffe's library."  Notwithstanding his apparent con-
tempt of literature, he left £40,000* for the building of a
splendid  library,* attached to the University of Oxford,
and  £150 per  annum,  to the  librarian, and £100 for
the purchase of books,  and founded  two travelling fel-
Iowships.t
  About the time the bishops were  sent to the Tower,
Radcliffe  was  much tormented to  turn papist.   Mr.
Obadiah Walker, of Trinity College,  urged him strongly
on this subject; to which Radcliffe  made a frank and
noble reply.  He says:  " I  should be in as  unhappy a
condition  in this life, as  I  fear I  shall be in the next,
were I to be treated as a turn-coat;  and must tell you,
that I can be serious no longer, while you endeavour to
make me believe what, I am to think, you give no  credit
  * This splendid monument of Radcliffe's liberality was
opened with great ceremony, April 13, 1749, when  the
degree of M.D. was conferred on Drs. Pitcairn, Conyers,
and Kennedy.   For a considerable time after the opening
of this literary depdt, as if to verify the joke of Radcliffe's
private library being in his window seat, it was literally
without books, and was known by the title of the " Medical
Library," and many collections of books were given to it
under that denomination.
  t Dr. Johnson had, in general, a peculiar  pleasure in
the company of physicians.   He says, " It is wonderful
how  little good  Radcliffe's  travelling  fellowships have
done.  I  know nothing that has  been  imported by them,
yet many additions to  our medical  knowledge  might be
got  in foreign countries.  Inoculation, for  instance, has
saved more lives than man has destroyed; and the cures
performed by the Peruvian bark are innumerable.  But
it is in vain to send  our travelling physicians to France,
for all that is known there is known here.   I  would send
them  out of Christendom.   I'd  send  them among bar-
barous nations." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
75
to yourself.  Fathers and Councils, and Antique Autho-
rities, may have their  influence in their proper.places ;
but should any of them, though covered with dvit, 1400
years ago, tell  me,  that  the  bottle I am now  drinking
with some of your acquaintance is a wheel-barrow, and
the glass in my hand a salamander, I should ask leave to
dissent from them all."
   Radcliffe lost £5,000  in a speculation he made in a
venture to the East Indies;  the  vessel,  upon its return,
being captured, and the property  lost.  He was induced
to this act by  Betterton,  the  tragedian, who was  ruined
by the event.   When the doctor heard of his loss, he was
enjoying  liimself at the Bull's Head Tavern,  in  Clare
Market; and he desired his  companions  not to interrupt
the circulation of the glass, " for that he had no more to
do but to go up so many  pairs of stairs, to make himself
whole again."
   Of the celebrated Dr. Radcliffe  much has been written,
but yet much remains to be said.   He was, probably, the
most eccentric, and at the same time, the most successful
physician of his day.  Although  he practised medicine,
lie had as great a contempt for  physic, as  he had for
physicians, avowing it as his opinion, that the whole art
might be written on  a sheet of  paper.   Yet, it may be
doubted, whether a more  luminous lesson was ever given,
than  his declaration that, when a young practitioner, he
possessed  twenty remedies for every disease, and before
the end of his career, he found twenty diseases, for which
he had not one remedy.
   His reputation seems to have had the precedence of his
experience, for  we find, that before he had been two years
in the medical world,  his business  was  very extensive,
particularly among those of the higher ranks.  And here
we have a singular exemplification, of  how much  the
fortunes of the ablest men are dependent  on fortuitous
circumstances.
   When Radcliffe came to London, in 1684, he settled in 
76
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
Bow Street, Covent Garden, and in the following year,
died Dr. Short, who had considerable  practice in that
neighborhood.  Dr. Lower, whom he is said to  have
succeeded,  had, at that time,  no business to succeed to,
for he had joined the Whig party, in 1678, thinking they
would carry all before them ; but being  mistaken, he lost
the Royal patronage, and, consequently, his practice.
  Lower had  also the Protestant  interest very much at
heart, and  used to show that humour in every visit he
made.   He was a great favourite of Nell  Gwynne's, and
was often with her; and was so successful in getting from
her all  the particulars of the court intrigues, that the
king himself used often  to complain to him, and say, he
did more mischief than a troop of  horse.
  Dr. Radcliffe was a man of  great  decision,—the result
of eminent talent.  He always gave his predictions in a
tone of  confidence.  Having prophesied, with great accu-
racy, the fate of the Duke  of Beaufort, he was always
referred to  as an oracle to  decide disputed  points of
practice.
  In Dr. Radcliffe's day  great stress was  laio on critical
days.  A slight cathartic on the sixth day of acute  fever
was  considered fatal.  A person having  taken a gentle
aperient on the sixth day, who laboured under an attack
of acute fever, died.  The person  who  prescribed the
dose produced the recipe, and,  in his own justification,
pleaded the mildness of  the medicine.  Radcliffe, whose
judgment was referred to, after an examination into the
nature of the case, acknowledged indeed, the mildness of
the dose, but in his own style pronounced, " It was ill-
timed ;  disturbed a crisis, and thereby killed the patient."
  Radcliffe's ready wit often  got  him into trouble.  Dr.
Marshall prosecuted him for a witticism, and he excited
Swill's spleen, who was  pleased to call  him " that puppy
Radcliffe."  His  wit blazed without respect to persons,
the king himself not excepted ;  nor did the ties of neigh-
bourly friendship restrain him. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.               77
  But it was not so much his wit, as his daring genius,
that  set at defiance,  and put him  above the rules that
shackled the dunces of the day, and  produced so much
bitterness against him.  It was his good sense, his prac-
tical knowledge, his  decision in danger, and his ready
expedient, that commanded the confidence of his patients,
and  excited  the envy  of competitors.   Erudition  had
nothing to do with his success.   His friend  Mead paid
him  a cold  compliment, when he said, " that he  was
deservedly at the head of his profession, on account of his
great medical penetration and experience."  His contem-
poraries would not admit  that  Radcliffe was a man of
very considerable learning, although  all were compelled
to admit that he was a physician  of very  great  attain-
ments.
   Among the many singularities recorded of this eccen-
trie  man, is the following:—whilst he was one evening
deeply engaged  at a tavern, he was called on by a grena-
dier, who desired  his  immediate  attendance  on   his
Colonel;  but no entreaties could prevail on the disciple
of  Esculapius  to  postpone his  sacrifice to Bacchus.
" Sir," quoth the soldier, " my orders were to bring you ."
and  being a  very powerful man,  he took him up in his
arms and carried him off by force.   After traversing
some dirty lanes, the doctor and his escort arrived  at a
narrow alley—" What the d-----1 is all this," said Rad-
cliffe, "your colonel  don't live here?"  "No," said his
military friend,  " no,  my colonel does not live here—but
my  comrade  does, and  he's worth two colonels, so by
     , doctor, if  you don't do your best for him, it  will  be
the worst for you."
   He was once  sent  for into the country to visit a gen-
tleman ill of the quinsy.   Finding that no external  or
internal application  would be of service, he desired the
lady of the house to  order a hasty pudding to be  made;
when it was  done, his own servants were to bring it up;
while the pudding was preparing, he gave  them instruc-
                         7* 
78
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
tions how they were to act.  When  the  pudding was set
on the table, the doctor said, " Come, Jack and Dick, eat
as quickly as possible; you have had no breakfast this
morning."  Both  began with their spoons, but on Jack's
dipping one for Dick's  twice, a quarrel arose.  Spoonfuls
of hot pudding were discharged on  both sides; handfuls
were pelted at each other.  The patient was seized with
a hearty fit of laughter, the quinsy burst, and the patient
recovered.
  In  the month  of December, 1694, Queen Mary was
seized with the  small-pox,  which  the  court physician
found it impossible to cure. Dr. Radcliffe was accordingly
sent for by order of the council to give his opinion.  At
the first sight of the recipes, without seeing her Majesty,
he told them, " she was a dead woman; for it was im-
possible to do any good in her case, where  remedies had
been given that were contrary to the nature of the dis-
temper ;  yet  he  would endeavour to do all  that lay in
him,  to  get her  some ease."  Dr.  Radcliffe's  efforts to
relieve  his royal patient  proved  unavailing, and  the
(jueen died.

   "Nor could the skilful Radcliffe's healing hand,
    The Goddess's approach to Death withstand.
    Yet, oh ! if fate, that had her vitals seized,
    Might then have been by mortal's aid appeased.
    His, e'en his  art, the Victim had relieved."

  In the same year Dr.  Edward Hans (afterwards Sir
Edward  Hans) having acquired an  Oxford reputation,
left the  University, and settled in London  as  Dr. Rad-
cliffe's rival.  Dr. Hans was an excellent scholar, and a
good chemist and anatomist.   On his  arrival in town, he
set up a very spruce  equipage, and in  this  way he en-
deavoured to attract the  eyes of the public and  obtain
practice; but he  found he was unable  to  compete with
Dr. Radcliffe.   Dr. I lans  now had recourse to a strata-
gem ; and, to get  into repute, ordered  his footman to stop 
PHYSIC AND rilYSICIANS.              79
most of the gentlemen's chariots, and inquire whether they
belonged to Dr. Hans, as if he was called by a patient.
Accordingly the fellow, in pursuance of his  instructions,
stopped every coach from Whitehall  to the Royal  Ex-
change ;  and even went into Exchange Alley, and enter-
ing Garraway's Coffee-house, made the  same interroga-
tories above stairs and below.  At last Dr. Radcliffe, who
was usually there about 'change time, and being seated
at a table with several apothecaries and surgeons, cried
out, when Hans's footman asked,  in breathless  anxiety,
for his master.—" Dr. Hans is not here, what do you want
with him ?" The  footman replied, that such and such a
lord was taken  ill.  " No, no, friend," said Radcliffe,
" you are mistaken, the doctor wants those lords."
   These methods, however, of imposing upon the public,
although seen through and discovered by the quick-sight-
ed, obtained for Dr. Hans abundance of patients; and at
last, he became principal physician at Court  On which
occasion, an  old friend  of  Radcliffe's  brought  him the
intelligence of his rival's appointment.   " So much the
better for him," said Radcliffe, " for now he has  a  patent
for killing."  " But," says the friend, in  order  to ruffle
Radcliffe's temper,  " but what is more  surprising, the
same doctor has  two pairs of the finest  horses that ever
were seen."   " Then, they will  sell for  more," coolly re-
plied the doctor, thus signifying that his  practice would
scarce permit him to keep them long.
   A celebrated bon vivant applied to Radcliffe, and com-
plained of being  afflicted with colicky  spasms.   " What
have  you eaten  to-day ?" said the physician.  The pa-
tient informed him, that he had been at a feast, and had
rather exceeded  his usual  fare, which was  so  and so,
daily.  " Well,"  said Dr. R.,  " if happily,  you escape
from  death's  clutches to-night, I would advise you to
hang thyself  to-morrow, for the grim  messenger alone
can rid you of your complaints."
   At one period,  Dr. Radcliffe was highly in favour with 
80
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
the Princess Ann, of Denmark ;  but he forfeited her good
graces, by  his  unpardonable rndeness.  The Princess
having been taken ill, the doctor was sent for, but he did
not make his appearance as soon as was anticipated, and
another messenger was despatched for  him.   When the
symptoms of her  highness's distemper were related to
him, he declared that " her malady was nothing but the
vapours, and that she was in as good a state of health as
any woman breathing, could she but believe it."  In con-
sequence  of this  uncourtly language, he was dismissed
from his attendance on the princess, and Dr. Gibbons was
nominated as his successor.
   Dr.  Radcliffe  was  always violently opposed  to any
thing bearing the resemblance of quackery.
   W. Pittis, Dr. Radcliffe's first biographer, relates the
following  account of an altercation which took place be-
tween  Sir Godfrey Hneller, the  king's  painter,  and Dr.
Radcliffe.  The doctor, at this period, lived in Bow Street,
Covent Garden.   Attached to his house, he had a  large
garden, which was contiguous to another at  the back of
it, belonging to Sir Godfrey.  As Kneller's garden con-
tained many curious exotic plants, Dr. Radcliffe  express-
ed a wish to have a door made  in the  w-all  which  sepa-
rated the two gardens, in  order that  he might occasion-
ally pay a visit to the valuable  flowers, without putting
Sir G. Kneller's family to any   inconvenience.  To this
proposition the painter readily consented, and a door was
accordingly  soon  made.  No source of  annoyance oc-
curred to either party, until the doctor's servants, instead
of being strict observers of the terms of agreement, made
such havoc amongst  the painter's exotic plants, that Sir
Godfrey, being out of all patience, intimated to his friend,
the doctor, that he could not put up with such insolences;
yet, notwithstanding this  complaint, the grievance con-
tinued  unredressed; when  Sir Godfrey sent word by one
of his servants, that if the nuisance continued unabated,
he should be obliged to lock  up  the doors.  At this, Dr. 
PHVSK' AND PHYSICIANS.
81
 R. was terribly enraged, and sent back for answer, that
 Sir Godfrey might do what  he  thought fit, in  relation to
 the door, so that  he did but refrain  from painting it.
 " Did my very good friend, Dr. Radcliffe,  say  so ?" cried
 Sir G. Kncller: "go back to him, and, after  presenting
 my service  to him, tell  him, that / can  take any thing
from him but his physic."  This  anecdote has been  im-
 mortalized in verse.

 Quoth Knellcr, I'll certainly stop up that door
 If ever I find it unlocked any more;
 " Your threats," replied  Radcliffe, " disturb not my ease,
 And so you don't paint it, e'en  do what you please."

   Dr. R. was sent  for to see  the king,  who had been
 seized with  symptoms  resembling  the dropsy.   Dr. R.
 found the king reading Sir R.  L'Estrange's new version
 of " ^Esop's Fables."  After a little preliminary conver-
 sation, tiie doctor requested His Majesty to allow him to
 look at the book he was  reading.  Upon opening  the vo-
 lume, the doctor read to the king the following fable, in
 these words:—
   " Pray, sir, how  do  you find yourself?" says the doc-
 tor to  his  patient.   " Why,  truly," says  the  patient, " I
 have had a most violent sweat."  " Oh ! the best sign in
 the world," quoth  the doctor.  And then, a little  while
 after, he is at it again;  with a " Pray, how do you find
 your lady ?"  " Alas !"  says the other, " I have, just now,
 such  a terrible  fit  of horror  and shaking  upon  me!"
 •' Why, this is all  as it should be," says  the  physician,
 " it shows  a mighty strength of  nature."   And then he
 asks him, a third time, the same question.   " Why," says
 the patient, "I  am all swelled, as if I had the dropsy."
 " Best of all," quotli the doctor, and goes his way.  Soon
 after this, conies one of the sick man's friends to him,
 with the same question, " How  he felt himself?"  " Why,
 truly, so  well," says he, " that I am  e'en ready to die, of 
82
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
I know not how many good signs and tokens."   " May it
please  your  Majesty,"  says Radcliffe, "yours and the
sick man's case is the very same."  He advised the king
to go abroad, and upon  his  return, Dr. R. was  sent for
again.  In reply to some questions put by the doctor, the
king, showing his swollen ankles, which formed a striking
contrast with the rest of his  emaciated body, exclaimed,
" and what think you of these ?" " Why, truly," said he,
" I would  not have your  Majesty's  two legs  for your
three kingdoms."
   Dr. Radcliffe had a great objection to paying his bills.
A pavior, after long and  fruitless attempts to  get his ac-
count settled, caught Dr. R. just getting out of his cha-
riot, at his own door,  in Bloomsbury Square, and de-
manded the liquidation of his debt.  " Why, you rascal,"
said the doctor, " do yon pretend to be paid for such a
piece of work ? Why, you have spoiled  my pavement, and
then covered  it over with earth to hide your bad work."
" Doctor,"  said  the pavior, " mine is  not  the  only bad
work that the earth hides."   " You dog, you,"  said Rad-
cliffe, " are you a wit ? You must be poor—come in, and
you shall be paid."
   Among  the many facetias related of this physician, it
has been noticed, that when he was in a convivial party,
he was  very unwilling to leave it, even though sent for
by persons of the  highest distinction. Whilst  he  was
thus deeply engaged at a tavern, a person called, in order
to induce the doctor to visit  his wife, who was danger-
ously ill; but no entreaties could prevail on  the disciple
of Esculapius to postpone his sacrifice  to the  jolly god.
Enraged at the doctor's  obstinacy, the man,  who  was
very strong, took him  up  in his arms, and carried him off
triumphantly.   The doctor was, at first, greatly enraged,
particularly as the circumstance excited much  laughter
amongst the spectators.   Having eooled a little, however,
before he was set down, he listened to the apology of the
husband, who excused himself for his rudeness, by the 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
83
extreme illness of his wife.  The doctor then exclaimed,
with an oath, " Now, you impudent dog, I'll be revenged
of you; for I'll cure your wife."
 * Dr. R.,  who was attending the lady of Lord Chief Jus-
tice Holt, with a  diligence remarkable for one of his situ-
ation as a physician, was asked, by one  of his intimate
friends, the cause of it.  " Why," said the doctor, " to be
sure, I have brought her  through a very obstinate disor-
der, though I have no particular regard for the woman;
but, I know that  her husband  hates her, and, therefore, I
wish to plague him."
  Contemporaneously with  Radcliffe, lived a Dr. Case, a
celebrated quack, a native of Lyme Regis, in  Dorsetshire.
This empiric was famous  for his astrological acquire-
ments, and was  looked upon  as the  successor of Lilly,
whose magical utensils he possessed.   He is  said to have
got more  for the  following distich, placed over his  door,
than Dryden did  for all his poetry.

                 " Within this place,
                  Lives Doctor Case."

  And  he was, doubtless, well paid for composing the
couplet which he affixed to his pill boxes:

       " Here's fourteen pills for thirteen pence.
        Enough  for  any man's own conscience."

  Dr. Radcliffe met this  doctor  at  a tavern,  when  the
following  conversation took place : " Here, brother Case,
I drink to all  the fools, your patients."   " Thank  ye,"
quoth Case, " let me  have all the  fools, and you are  wel-
come to the rest"
  An old  lady, who  had spoken disrespectfully of Dr.
R.'s talents, was taken seriously ill, and her daughter, for
whom the doctor entertained a high  respect, obtained a
visit from  him, on the pretence that she, herself, was in- 
84              PHY3IC AND PHYSICIAN'S.

disposed: Radcliffe's  stay, was,  however, short;  for no
sooner had he been made acquainted with the fact, than
he abruptly departed, observing,  that " he neither knew
what was good for an old woman, nor what an old woman
was  good for."
  Tyson, of Hackney, a notorious usurer, having gone
to the doctor's residence for advice, clad in mean attire,
with a view to save the fee, was  thus roughly addressed
by Radcliffe, who had penetrated  through his paltry dis-
guise :—" Go home, sir, and repent, as fast as you can;
for the grave and the devil are equally ready for  Tyson
of Hackney, who has received an immense estate out of
the spoils of orphans and widows, and will certainly be a
dead man in ten days."  Tyson, it is said, died as Rad-
cliffe had predicted, in ten  days, leaving property, to the
amount of £300,000.
  A lady, of rank and fortune, too  anxiously  careful of
the health of an  only son, as  well as too partial to his
merits, sent for Dr. R., relative to his health.  On a pre-
vious consultation with the lady, about the malady of his
patient, she very gravely told  him,  that, " although she
could not say her son was immediately affected with any
disorder, yet she was afraid, from the excess of his spirits,
and the very great  prematureness of his understanding,
he might, without the doctor's medical interference, ve-
rify the old proverb—' soon ripe, soon rotten.' "
  The doctor, by this time, having pretty well taken the
measure of the lady's understanding, as well as the wants
of her son, desired to see the  patient; when, presently, a
servant introduced a strong chubby boy, between nine and
ten years of age, eating a large piece of bread and butter.
" Well, sir," says  the doctor, " What's  your name ?"
" Daniel, sir," says the boy. " And pray, Master Daniel,
who  gave you that fine piece of bread and butter ?" " My
god-fathers  and god-mothers, who did promise and vow
three things, &c," and was going on with the  answer in
the Catechism.   " Very well,  indeed,"  said  the doctor, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
85
gravely.   " Now, Master Daniel, let  me feel your pulse.
Quite  well,  there  too:  so that, dear  madam, (turning
round to the mother) you may make yourself easy about
your son, as he is not only in good health at present, but
in no danger of losing that health by  too much prema-
ture knowledge."
  At one period of his life being pressed by his acquaint.
ances to  marry, he  looked  out for a wife, and at length
fixed upon the daughter of a wealthy citizen of London,
with whom it was agreed he  should have £15,000 down,
and a still larger sum on the demise of her father, whom,
however, he soon found reason to address in the following
terms: " Miss  Mary is a very deserving gentlewoman;
but you must pardon me, if I think her  by no means fit to
be my wife, since she is another man's already, or ought
to be.  In a word, she  is  no better and no worse than
actually  enceinte,  which makes  it  necessary that  she
be disposed of to him  that has  the best claim  to  her
affections.  No doubt you have power enough over her, to
bring her to confesfion, which is by no means the part of
the physician.  I shall wish you much  joy of a new son-
in-law, when known, since  I am by no means qualified to
be so near of kin.   Hanging and  marrying I find go by
destiny;  and I  might have  been guilty  of the first, had I
not so narrowly escaped the last."   How the doctor made
the discovery  is not recorded, but subsequent  events
proved that he was  right, as  to the condition of his in-
tended spouse.
  Dr.  Radcliffe being  called upon to  visit a sick man,
asked him, as he entered  the room, how he did ?   "0
doctor," replied the man, in a plaintive tone, " / am dead."
The doctor immediately left the room, and reported in the
neighbourhood that  the man was dead.  The report was at
first believed, and circulated; but  as soon as the mistake
was discovered, the doctor was asked, " why he had pro-
pagated a falsehood?"  He replied, " I did it on the best
authority ; for I had it from the man's own mouth."
                          8 
86
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
  Dr.  Radcliffe,  attending  one of  his  intimates  in  a
dangerous sickness, with an unusual  strain of generosity
for him, declared he would not touch a fee.  One insisted,
the other positively refused.   When  the  patieht's health
was established, and the doctor was taking his leave, the
patient said,  " Sir, in  this purse I  have put every day's
fee;  nor must your goodness get the better of my grati-
tude ?"  The doctor eyed the purse, counted the number
of days he had been attending, and then holding out his
hand, replied, " Well, I can hold out  no longer; singly I
could have refused them  for a twelvemonth;  but alto-
gether they are irresistible."
  A  lady of rank  consulted Radcliffe in  great distress
about her daughter, and the doctor began the investigation
of the case by asking, " Why, what  ails her ?"  " Alas!
doctor," replied the mother, " I cannot tell; but she has
lost her humour, her looks,  her stomach; her strength
consumes every day, and  we are apprehensive that she
cannot live."   " Why do you not marry her ?" said Rad-
cliffe.  " Alas! doctor, that  we would  fain do,  and Have
offered her as good a match as ever she could expect."
" Is there no other that you think she would be content to
marry ?"  " Ah, doctor, that is what troubles us; for there
is a young gentleman we doubt she loves, that her father
and I can never consent to."  " Why, look you, madam,"
replied Radcliffe, gravely, " then  the case is this: your
daughter would marry one man, and you would have her
marry another.  In all my books  I  find  no  remedy for
such a disease as this."
  An anecdote somewhat similar  is recorded  of the
daughter of the late Sir Walter Farquliar, who attended
George III. during his melancholy illness.  This  physi-
cian  calling one day on Mr. Pitt, the premier observed him
to be unusually ruffled, and inquired what was the matter.
"Why, to tell you the truth," replied the doctor,  "I am
extremely angry with my  daughter.   She has permitted
herself to form an attachment to a young gentleman, by
no means qualified in  point of rank or fortune  to be my 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
87
son-in-law."  " Now let me say one word in  the young
lady's behalf," returned the minister.   " Is the young man
you mention, of a respectable family ?"   " He is."   " Is
he  respectable in himself?"  "He  is."  "Has  he the
manners and  education of a gentleman ?"  " He  has."
" Has he an estimable  character ?"  " He has."  " Why
then, my dear Sir Walter, hesitate no longer.   You  and I
are all acquained with  the delusions  of life.   Let your
daughter follow her own inclinations, since they appear to
be  virtuous.   You  have had more opportunities than I
have of knowing the value of affection, and ought to re-
spect it   Let the union take place, and I will not be un-
mindful that I had the pleasure of recommending it."
  The physician consented, the lovers were united, and
the patronage of the minister soon gave old Sir Walter no
cause to regret the event.
  In 1703,  Radcliffe  had  an  attack of pleurisy, which,
owing  to his own imprudence had nearly proved fatal to
him.   During the attack he could not be induced to  aban-
don the bottle.   Mr. Bernard, the serjeant-surgeon,  being
called in, bled him to the  extent of one hundred ounces,
and checked the disease.   Radcliffe was fully  sensible of
his  danger, and made his  will, leaving the greater part of
his  estate  to charity, and several thousand pounds for the
relief of sick seamen sent  on shore.  His obstinacy mani-
fested  itself throughout his attack of illness, for  after
having  lost a large quantity of blood, he insisted  upon
being removed to Kensington, and was taken thither in a
chair by four men, and during the journey  he  fainted
away.   Dr. Atterbury relates these particulars, and says
that he slept immediately afterwards, and that he was
likely to do well; " so that the town physicians, who ex-
pected to have his practice, began now to think themselves
disappointed."
  The  pleasures of the  table had  great charms for  Rad-
cliffe ; and Dr. Lettsom  has reported a  curious  relation on
this subject, as told him by the eccentric Dr. Mounsey. 
88              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

  " A little behind my house," says Dr. Cumming, "lies
Carshalton, at which place in  days of yore, I have been
informed that Dr. Radcliffe and the great Dons in his day,
held an hebdomadal meeting, sacred, not to iEsculapius,
but to Bacchus."  To admit a  young physician  to one of
these  meetings, was deemed a  distinguished honour; for
no one was asked unless  he seemed likely to prove con.
spicuous. When Dr. Mead was young, and just beginning
to be talked of, he was asked  to  Carshalton; the object
was to make  him drunk, and to see the man: this design
he suspected, and carefully avoided to fill a bumper when
the sign was  given.

      " Mecum saepe viri cum vino pellite curas:"

And he  so managed as to see  all the  company retire
under the table, except Radcliffe and himself; and the
former was so far gone as to talk fast, and to show him-
self affected  by  the  potations.  "Mead," said he, "will
you succeed me."  " It is  impossible," replied the polite
Mead; "you are Alexander the  Great, and no man  can
succeed Radcliffe; to succeed to one of his kingdoms is the
utmost of my ambition."  Radcliffe, with all his bluntness,
was susceptible of flattery when delicately dressed up, and
this reply won his heart.   " J will recommend you, Mead,
to my patients," said he;  and  the next day he did Mead
the honour to visit him in town, when he  found him read-
ing Hippocrates.  Radcliffe with surprise asked, " Do you
read,  Hippocrates  in  the  original  Greek ?"   " Yes,"
answered Mead, respectfully.   " J never  read it in my
life" said the great Radcliffe. " JVo.'" replied Mead,"  You
have no occasion, you are Hippocrates himself."   This did
the business for«Mead, and it completely gained the blunt
Radcliffe ; and when he did not choose to attend patients,
he recommended Mead, who from that moment rapidly
rose in  his profession.   "This,"  says Dr. Lettsom, "I
heard  ten years  ago from old Dr. Mounsey of Chelsea, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              89
who was one of the party; and since, Crespigny, of Cam-
berwcll, told me the anecdote of this drinking party."
  On  the  28th of July,  1714, Queen  Anne  was  6eized
with  a  severe fit  of  illness, which terminated her life.
Radcliffe was  sent for;  but he sent  word that " he had
taken physic,  and could not  come."   In a  letter to a
friend he states his reason for not obeying the summons.
He says, "I knew the nature of attending crowned heads
in their last moments  too well to be fond of waiting upon
them  without being sent for by the proper authority.  You
have heard of  pardons being signed for physicians before
a sovereign's demise.   However, as ill as I was (his dis-
ease was the gout), I would have went to the  Queen in a
horse-litter, had  either her  Majesty, or those in commis-
sion next her,  commanded me to do so."
   Radcliffe, however,  confessed that every thing had been
done  to save her Majesty's life.   In consequence of Rad
cliffe's  apparent neglect of the  Queen, the  popular feel-
ing ran very  strongly  against  him.   He felt  this very
acutely.  He  did  not survive the Queen many months
An early biographer  says, that  he fell a " victim  to the
ingratitude of a thankless  world, and the  fury of the
gout."  He died in November,  171 1, in the sixty-fifth
year of his age.
   It  is said that Radcliffe's diagnostic powers were un-
equalled by any physician of the day.  Upon visiting a
patient for the first time he was  most particular in exa-
mining the condition of the eye, the  temperament of the
skin,  and state of the pulse.  He paid particular atten-
tion to the mind of the  patients  under his care.  He has
been heard to  say that he attributed much of his success
and eminence  to this circumstance.
   It was said  of Radcliffe after his death, by some friends
who  were well  aware  thai he  never thought of these
things when alive, that, a little  before he died, he read
the twentieth or thirtieth chapter of Genesis, and ob-
served,  " He  found Mosss a clever  fellow; if he  had
                           8* 
90
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
 known him a little sooner, he  thought he would have
 read him through."
   Among the celebrated eccentric surgeons, the  name of
 John  Abernethy  stands prominently  forward.   Of the
 early  history of this eminent  man  very  little is really
 known.   It is said  that, like most men who have obtained
 great  eminence, he manifested, when quite a youth, in-
 dications of that singular genius which was destined, at
 a more advanced period of his life, to astonish the world.
 Abernethy  was unquestionably one of the most  success-
 ful surgeons of his day.  Notwithstanding  his eccentri-
 city and  apparent  hard-heartedness and want  of  feeling,
 all who really knew his disposition admitted that he  had
 much of  the " milk of human kindness" intermixed with
: other  qualities, which concealed  the  more benevolent
 features of  his character from the eyes of superficial ob-
 servers.
   His great success in life must be, in  a great measure,
 attributed to his having directed the  attention of the
 public to  the influence of derangement of the  organs of
 digestion on all the diseases to which " flesh is heir."
 This view  of the subject was not altogether  novel, but
 the  profession had not  paid  sufficient attention to it.
 Abernethy always  opposed, with great  zeal, the artificial
 line of'demarcation drawn between surgery and medi-
 cine ;  he  considering the two sciences as " one and in-
 divisible."
   Abernethy commenced his  medical studies  under au-
 spicious circumstances.   He had the  advantage of being
 placed under the instruction of the most brilliant surgical
 luminaries of the day.
   That Abernethy  was not a man of high  classical at-
 tainments, appears evident from the fact  stated  by  Mr.
 Pettigrew.  "Upwards of twenty  years  (says Mr. P.)
 have now elapsed,  since Abernethy applied to  me, as the
 registrar  of the London Medical Society, relative to the
 supposed  knowledge of the small-pox by Galen;  and he 
THYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              91
 had a reference to the passage in the writings of that
 great physician, which he was desirous of consulting on
 the subject.  I placed before him one of the volumes of
 the works of this author, containing  the passage ; and
 when  he saw  it was entirely in Greek, he blew a long
 whistle, and called  out—' Pooh !  pooh !  I  can?t read
 Galen in Greek ; I never  read Galen in Greek, you must
 translate it for me !' "
   Notwithstanding Abernethy's ignorance of the Greek
 language, he was considered a good Latin scholar.  The
 circumstance of his not being able  to read Hippocrates,
 Galen,  or  Aretreus in the  original,  must not lead the
 reader to suppose him to have been ignorant of the works
 of the celebrated medical  sages of antiquity.
   Many who pride themselves on their high classical at-
 tainments  are  apt  to imagine themselves  superior  to
 those who obtain their knowledge of the ancient writers
 through the medium  of translations.  To a certain ex-
 tent wc arc willing to admit that they  have a superiority
 over those whose education has not been strictly classical,
 A knowledge of words, however, is often confounded with
 a  knowledge of things.   Many who read with consider-
 able fluency the writings  of the ancients have but really
 little knowledge of the spirit of the celebrated Greek and
 Roman authors.  On  the same principle, a person may
 read his own language, and have a thorough insight into
 its construction, "and  yet  be really very  ignorant of the
 literature of his country.
   Abernethy was  apprenticed  to Mr.  afterwards Sir
Charles Blickc, surgeon to St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
He attended with considerable industry the lectures of
Blizard,  John  Hunter^  Hewson, Pott,  and  Falconar.
When  the  celebrated Pott  retired  from  the  hospital,
Abernethy  was appointed assistant-surgeon,  which he
held for twenty-eight  years.   It was not until after the
death of Sir Charles Blickc, that he was appointed full
surgeon to  the  hospital.   He now commenced lecturing
on anatomy and surgery.   His class was at first small, 
92
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
but on the death of Dr. A. Marshall, it greatly increased.
When Abernethy commenced business  in St.  Mildred's
Court, in the  Poultry, he observed to Mr.  now  Sir A.
Cooper,  " I intend to live  seven years in the city, seven
years in the middle of the town, and seven years  at the
west end, or fashionable part of London, and  then  I shall
conclude my professional labours."
  Sir Astley   recollects noticing in his house at this
period a camera  lucida, by which he made  some anato-
mical drawings;  also  a  hornet's nest, which  made the
worthy  baronet facetiously remark to  Mr. A.,  that " he
had already a  hornet's  nest about him."
  Notwithstanding Abernethy's  resolution  to  go  to the
west  end of the town, he never  advanced farther west
than  Bedford  Row.  There  he  remained  until a short
period before his death.  The following  are  a few of the
many humorous anecdotes recorded of this eccentric and
eminent surgeon.
  A female, who, consulted Mr. A., for an ulcer she had
on her arm, was particularly  asked, " What is the matter
with  you ?"  The patient immediately held up her arm,
but did  not utter a  word.  " Oh! oh!  poultice it, and
take five grains of blue pill every night, that's all; come
again in a week."  The  fee was  presented,  but refused;
at  the  end of the  week, the patient presented  herself
again, when the same  pantomime took place, and the fee
again refused.  After  a few more visits, Mr. A., on look-
ing at  the arm,  pronounced it  well, when the  patient
again offered  a fee.  " No," said Abernethy, " from you
nothing  will   I receive,  for  you are the most sensible
woman I ever saw.   You don't talk .'.'"
  Mr. T. a young gentleman with a broken limb, which
refused  to heal after the fracture, went to consult Mr. A.;
and,  as  usual, was entering into all the details  of his
complaint, when he was  thus stopped almost in limine—
« Pray,  sir, do you come  here to talk, or to hear me ?   If
you want my advice, it is so and so—I wish  you good
 morning."                                  . 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
93
   A scene of greater length, and still greater  interest
and  entertainment, took  place between our eminent sur-
geon, and the famous John Philpot Curran.  Mr. Curran,
it  seems, being personally unknown to him, had visited
Mr. Abernethy several times, without having had an op-
portunity  of fully  explaining, as he  thought, the nature
of his malady, at last determined to have a  hearing;
when, interrupted  in  his story, he fixed his dark bright
eyes upon the doctor, and said, " Mr. Abernethy, I have
been here on eight different days, and I  have  paid you
eight different guineas; but you have  never yet listened
to  the  symptoms of my  complaint.  I am resolved,  sir,
not to leave  this room until you satisfy me by doing so."
Struck by his  manners,  Mr.  Abernethy  threw himself
back into his chair, and assuming the  posture of a most
indefatigable listener, exclaimed, in a tone of half sur-
prise, half humour,—" Oh, very well, sir, I am  ready to
hear you  out.   Go on, give me the whole—your birth,
parentage, and education.  I wait your pleasure; go on."
Upon which, Curran, not a whit  disconcerted,  gravely
began—" My name is John Philpot Curran.*  My parents
   *  " Poor  Curran's sufferings," says  Mr. Pettigrew,
" sprang,  unfortunately,  from his irregularities; and  I
cannot  forbear recording that which passed at the  last
interview I had with him, which  was in the waiting-
room of the Duke of Sussex's apartments, in Kensington
Palace, but a few  weeks  before his death.  I had  for-
merly seen much of him, and it was in  gay, jovial,  and
learned society, associated with men of genius and eccen-
tricity, whose  irregularities, like those of Curran, served
but to render  them more delightful.  Not having seen
him for  some time, we mutually inquired after our old ac-
quaintances ; and I  was induced to express  my regret
that the love of opinion  in  one remarkable instance,  the
love  of drink  in others, had operated so unfavourably
upon  the  health and fortunes of those we esteemed and 
94
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
were poor, but I believe honest people, of the province of
Munster, where also I was born, being a native of New-
market, county of Cork;" and so he continued for several
minutes, giving  his  astonished  hearer a  true but irre
sistibly laughable account of his  birth, parentage, and
education, as desired, until he came to his  illness and
sufferings, the detail of which was not again interrupted.
It is hardly necessary to add, that Abernethy's attention
to the  gifted patient was, from  that hour  to  the close of
his life, assiduous, unremitting, and devoted.
   Mrs. J-------consulted him respecting  a nervous dis-
order, the minutiae of which appeared to be so fantastical,
that Mr. A. interrupted their frivolous detail, by holding
out his hand for the fee.  A one-pound note and a shil-
ling were placed into it: upon which he returned the
latter to his fair patient, with the angry exclamation,
" There, Ma'am ! go and buy a skipping-rope; that is all
you want."
   The reported fashion of his courtship and marriage, is
extremely characteristic.  It is said, that while attending
a  lady for several weeks, he observed those admirable
qualifications in her daughter, which he truly esteemed to
be calculated to make the married state happy.   Accord.

loved.  I could  not help expressing my astonishment in
relation to one individual in particular, that no warning
would  operate, and that nothing would direct him from
his dreadful course of intemperance ;  upon which Curran
stopped me short, with this remark : ' Oh, Mr. Pettigrew,
there is a great pleasure in getting drunk ; if it were not
for three things, I  would be drunk every night of my
life.'  »Oh ! Mr. Curran, what may these three things
be ?' I  inquired.  ' Why, sir,' says he, ' in  the first place,
the sin;' that  I know would not operate very powerfully
with my friend,—«in the second place, the shame;' that
was not likely very much to deter him,—'and in the third,'
he added, in his own peculiar manner,' the sickness.'" 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
95
ingly on Saturday, when taking leave of his patient, he
addressed  her to the following purport:—" You are  now
so well, that I need not see you  after Monday next, when
I shall come and pay yo« my farewell visit.   But, in the
mean time, I wish you  and your daughter seriously to
consider the proposal I am about to make.  It is abrupt
and unceremonious I am aware; but the excessive occu-
pation of  my time, by my professional duties, affords me
no leisure to accomplish what I desire, by the mere ordi-
nary course of attention and solicitation.  My annual re-
ceipts amount to £-------, and I can  settle £       on
my wife;  my character is generally known to the public,
so that you may readily ascertain what it is.  I have  seen
in your daughter a tender and affectionate child, an
assiduous  and careful nurse, and a gentle and lady-like
member of your family ;  such a person must  be all that a
husband could covet, and I offer my hand and fortune for
her acceptance.  On Monday, when I call, I shall expect
your determination;  for  I really have not time for the
routine  of courtship."   In this way, however, the  lady
was wooed and won, and the union proved a happy one in
every respect.
  Of Mr.  Abernethy's independence, and strict regard to
what is right, we have many examples.   Among others,
the following is characteristic:—A certain noble person-
age,  who at that time enjoyed a situation of great respon-
sibility in the sister kingdom, had been waiting for some
time in the surgeon's ante-room, when seeing those  who
had arrived before  him, successively called in, he became
somewhat impatient, and sent  his card in.  No notice
was taken of the hint;  he sent another  card—another—
another—and another;  still no answer.  At length he
gained admission  in his  turn! and full of nobility and
choler, he  asked, rather aristocratically, why he had been
kept waiting so  long ?—" Wh—ew !"  replied the profes-
sor;  " because you did not come sooner,  to be sure."
  Mr. A. could  never bear any interruption to his  dis- 
96
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
course.  " People come here," he often was heard to say,
" to consult me, and they will torture me with their long,
foolish, fiddle-de-dee stories;  so we quarrel, and then they
blackguard me all about this busy town; but I can't help
it."
  The following picture is from real life.
  Let the reader imagine  a snug,  elderly,  sleek, and
venerable-looking man, approaching seventy years of age,
rather below than above the middle height, somewhat in-
clined to corpulency, and still upright in his  carriage,
with  his hair most primly  powdered, and nicely curled
round his brow and temples.  Let them imagine such a
person habited in sober black, with his feet thrust care-
lessly in  a pair of unlaced  half boots, and his hands de-
posited in the  pockets  of his " peculiars," and they have
the " glorious  John," of the profession, before their eyes.
  The following colloquy between Abernethy and a pa-
tient is very characteristic of the professor.
  Having entered the room, the patient opened the pro-
ceedings. " I wish you to ascertain  what is  the  matter
with my eye, Sir.  It  is very painful, and I am afraid
there is  some  great mischief  going on."  " Which ? I
can't see," said Abernethy, placing the patient before  the
window,  and  looking closely at the  eye.  " But," inter-
fered the patient—" which ?  I can't see," again  said
Abernethy.   " Perhaps not, Sir,  but—"   " Now don't
bother!" ejaculated the other;  "  but sit  down, and  I'll
tell you  all about it."  The patient  took a seat, and the
surgeon,  standing with his  back against the table, thus
begun:—" I take it for granted that, in consulting me,
you wish to know what I should do for myself, were I in
a predicament similar to yours.  Now, I have no  reason
to suppose that you are in  any particular predicament;
and the terrible mischief which  you apprehend, depends,
I take it, altogether upon the stomach.  Mind—at present,
I have no reason to believe that there is any thing else
the matter with you."   The  patient,  at this period, was 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
97
 about to disclose sundry dreadful maladies with which he
 believed himself afflicted ; but he  was interrupted with
 " Diddle-dum, diddle-dc-dum,  diddle-dum-dce !" uttered
 in the same  smooth tone as the  previous  part of the  ad-
 dress, and he was silent.
    "Now," continued  Abernethy, "your  stomach being
 out of order, it is my duty to explain to you how to put it
 to rights again; and  in my whimsical way, I shall give
 you an illustration of my position, for I like to tell people
 something that they will remember.   The  kitchen, that
 is, your stomach, being out of order, the garret (pointing
 to the  head) cannot be right, and egad ! every room in
 the house becomes  affected.  Repair  the injury  in  the
 kitchen—remedy  the  evil there, and  all will  be right
 This you must do by diet.   If you put improper food into
 your stomach, by gad  you play the very devil with it, and
 with the whole machine besides.  Vegetable matter fer-
 ments,  and becomes gaseous, while animal substances  are
 changed into an abominable and acid stimulus.   You  are
 going/to ask,' What has all this to do with your eye ?' I
 will tell you.
   " Anatomy teaches us, that the skin  is  a  continuation
 of the membrane which lines the stomach; and your own
 observation will inform you, that the  delicate linings  of
 the mouth, throat, nose, and eyes, are nothing more;  lor
 some people acquire preposterous noses, others blotches on
 the face and  different parts of the body, others inflamma-
 tion of the  eye—all arising from irritation of the stomach.
 People  laugh at me for talking  so much about the sto-
 mach.  I sometimes tell this story to forty different people
 in the morning, and some won't listen to me ; so we quar-
 rel, and I get abused.   I can't help it;  they  conic to me
 for my advice, and I give it them, if they  will take it; I
 <*m't do any  more.  Well, Sir, as to the question of diet,
 I must  refer  you to  my book.  There  are only about a
tiozen pages  in  which  you will  find (beginning at page
 73l all that is necessary for you to know.  I am  chris-
                          9 
98              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

tened Doctor My-book,' and satirized under that name all
over England; but who  would sit  and listen to a long
lecture of twelve pages, or remember one half of it when
it is done ?   So I have reduced my directions into writing,
and there they are for any body to follow, if they please.
  " Having  settled the question of diet, we now come to
medicine.  It is, or ought to be, the province of a medical
man to soothe or assist nature, not to force her.  Now the
only medicine I should advise you to take, is a dose of a
slight  aperient every morning the first thing.   I won't
stipulate for the  dose, as that must be regulated by cir-
cumstances, but you must  take  some; for without it, by
gad!  your stomach will never be right.
  "People go to Harrowgate, and Brighton, and Bath,
and the devil knows where, to drink the waters, and they
return full  of admiration at  their surpassing efficacy,
Now  these  waters contain next  to nothing of purgative
medicine;  but they are to be taken  regularly, readily,
and in such  quantities as to produce the desired effect
You must persevere in this plan, Sir, until you experience
relief, which you certainly  will do.   I am often asked—
' Well, but Mr. Abernethy, why don't you practise what
you preach ?'  I answer, by reminding the inquirer of the
parson and the signpost; both point the way, but neither
follow its course."  And thus ended a colloquy, wherein
is mingled much  good  sense, useful advice, and whimsi-
cality.
   A man of rank consulted Abernethy, and was received
by him with remarkable rudeness.   Upon some severe
remark being made, the  patient lost his temper, and told
the eccentric surgeon, that he would make him eat his
words.  " It will be of no  use," said  Mr. A. coolly, " for
they  will be sure to come up again."
   "Pray, Mr. Abernethy, what is the cure for the gout?"
 was the question of an indolent and luxurious citizen,
 " Live upon sixpence a day, and earn it," was the reply.
   The late Duke of York is reported once to have con- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
99
suited Abernethy.   During the time his highness was in
the room, Abernethy stood  before him  with his hands in
his breeches pockets whistling with great coolness.  The
duke, naturally astonished  at his conduct, said, " I sup-
pose you know  who  I  am ?"  " Suppose I do, what of
that ?  If your Highness of York wishes to be well, let
me tell  you," said the  surgeon, " you must do as the
illustrious  Duke  of Wellington often did  in  his cam-
paigns, cut off the supplies, and the enemy will quickly
leave the citadel."
  On Abernethy's receiving the appointment of Professor
of Anatomy and Surgery to the Royal College of Sur-
geons, a professional friend  observed to him, that they
should now have something new.  "What do you mean?"
asked Abernethy.   " Why,"  said the other', " of course
you will  brush up the lectures which you have been so
long delivering at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and let us
have them in an approved form !"  " Do you take me for
a fool or  a knave ?" rejoined Abernethy; " I have always
given the  students at the  Hospital  that to which  they
were entitled—the best produce of my mind.   If I could
have made my lectures to them better,  I would certainly
have made them so.  I will give the College of Surgeons
precisely the same lectures down to the smallest details :
nay, I will tell the  old  fellows how to  make a poultice."
Soon after, when ho was lecturing to the sudents at St.
Bartholomew's, and adverting to the College of Surgeons,
he  chuckingly exclaimed, " I  told  the  big  wigs how to
make a poultice!"   It is said, by those who have seen it,
that Mr.  Abernethy's explanation of the art of making a
poultice was irresistibly entertaining.
  In the  year 1818, Lieutenant D      fell from his horse
on a paved street in London, and fractured his skull and
arm, whilst his horse trod  on his thigh  and grievously
injured his limb.  Mr.  A. was the nearest surgeon, and
he was sent for;  he came and attended  daily.  After the
lapse of months,  convalescence took place, leaving great 
100
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
 debility, when Abernethy enjoined the adoption of shell-
 fish diet, at Margate.  His grateful patient requested in-
 formation  as to the amount of his pecuniary debt, for
 professional aid and care.   Abernethy smiled, and  said,
 " Who is  that  young woman ?"   " She  is my wife."—
 " What is your rank  in the  army ?"—" I am a half-pay
 lieutenant."—"Oh,  wait  till  you  are a  general;  then
 come and see me, and we'll talk about it."
   Mr. Abernethy, as a lecturer, was highly popular.   He
 generally  had  a  large and  attentive  class of medical
 students.  His discourses  were distinguished for their
 practical character ; and every subject which he touched
 upon,  was illustrated by humorous and sometimes highly
 laughable  cases, which had come  under his own imme-
 diate observation.  How often have we  witnessed hun-
 dreds,  who  generally  thronged into his lecture-room,
 convulsed with laughter at his strange stories.   However
 ludicrous the narration might  be, it generally carried
 with it and left  on the mind some valuable practical fact,
 which was of great  service to the student in after  life.
 On  this account, his  style of lecturing was peculiar to
 himself.  It was not so much the  cases  themselves, but
 the dramatic manner in which they were related, which
 rendered them so highly attractive  to his class.  To give
 our readers a specimen of the stories with which he used
 to adorn his lectures,  we will relate a few  of the most
piquant  and  humorous,  which  will  convey  to their
 minds, a just conception of the originality of Abernethy's
 character.
   In speaking of the  mode of  reducing dislocations of
the jaw,  Abernethy  observed,  " Be it known to you,
people  who have once  dislocated the jaw, are very often
likely to do it again.  There was a major in the  army,
who had  the  misfortune  of  frequently dislocating his
jaw, and it was  an infirmity he cared very  little  about,
for he was  generally moving  about with his  regiment,
and when he put it out, the  regimental surgeon put it in 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             101

again.   But it happened, that on one occasion, he  was
fourteen or fifteen miles from where the regiment was
quartered, dining with  a gentleman, and being  rather
merry  after dinner,  laughing heartily,  his jaw  slipped
out; his mouth, of course, remained wide open, and it
was impossible to close  it, while the condyles remained
out of their sockets.  Not being  able to close his mouth,
articulation was impossible.  Well, but he made  an in-
articulate noise, and the host being surprised, considered
that there was something wrong with him, and sent for
a medical man, residing in the neighbourhood, whom, if
you  please, we  will call,  for  the present, the village
apothecary.   The apothecary made his appearance, look-
ing as  grave as any Methodist  parson,  and after  ex-
amining the poor major, pronounced, in an oracular tone,
that there was something the matter with him, and that
there was something the matter with the jaw; and that,
in fact, it was dislocated; and, accordingly, he began to
pull the jaw,  for the purpose  of putting it in  its  proper
place.   The officer, knowing the simplicity of the opera-
tion, and  how it ought to be done, was so enraged that
a man should be so presumptuous as to put a pestle and
mortar over his door, and yet not  know how to reduce a
simple dislocation of the jaw, that he vented  his rage in
a most furious, but in a very  inarticulate  manner.   And
egad, the apothecary took it into his head, thatthe infuriated
major was  mad; and, in faith, it  was very nearly being
verified, for Mr. Pestle's suggestion put the major into a
terrible rage, which actually confirmed the apothecary in
his opinion.  He therefore threw him down, put a strait
waistcoat on him, and left  him lying on his back, and
then sent him  some cooling draughts, and some lotion
for the jaw, which was to be applied in due season.  The
major  then found,  that  there was nothing for him but
submission.   After some time had elapsed, he made signs
for pen, ink, and paper;  and  as  these were instruments
which it was  supposed he could not much injure himself
                          9* 
102             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
with, they were furnished to him; and when he got them,
he wrote on the paper just these words: ' For God's sake,
send, with all possible speed, to Mr. So-and-so, surgeon to
the regiment.'  Well,  that was  considered a very rea-
sonable request, and therefore they  sent  off a man on
horseback, immediately for the  surgeon.   The  surgeon
came, took  off the  blister which the  sapient apothecary
had applied, threw the lotion  out of the window,  undid
the strait waistcoast in which the  major was  incar-
cerated, armed his hands, introduced his two thumbs to
the back of  each side of the lower jaw, pressed down the
condyles, and at the same time elevating the angle  of the
inferior maxillary bone, the jaw slipped into its socket:—
so much for the major, the apothecary, and the regimental
surgeon."
  In  speaking of the subject of delirium, Abernethy ob-
serves, " Delirium  seems to be a very curious affection;
in this state, a man is quite unconscious of his disease;
he will give rational answers to any question you  put to
him, when you rouse him; but, as I said  before, he re-
lapses into a state  of  wandering, and his  actions  corre-
spond with  his dreaming.   I  remember a man, with a
compound fracture, in  this hospital, whose leg was in a
horrible state of sloughing, and who had delirium in this
state.  I have worried  him, and said, ' Thomas, what is
the matter with you? how do you do ?'  He would  reply,
' Pretty hearty, thank you; nothing is the matter with
me : how do you do ?'  He would  then  go on dreaming
of one thing and another; I have listened at his  bedside,
and I am sure his dreams were often of a pleasant kind.
He met old  acquaintances  in  his dreams;  people whom
he remembered lang syne; his former companions,  his
kindred and relations; and he expressed his delight at
seeing thein,  He  would exclaim  every now  and then,
1 That's a good one,'—' Well, I never heard  a better joke:
ah ! ah ! ah ! give us your fist, my  old fellow.' "
  In lecturing on the subject of chronic inflammation, he 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              103
observes, " A lady had a small tumour in her breast, she
consulted a surgeon, and he ordered leeches to be applied;
the  leeches  produced  an  erysipelatous  inflammation,
which the lady did not like.  She became alarmed, and
I was sent for, and I  met the gentleman at the lady's
house : he happened, in the hearing of the patient, to say,
' Don't you consider  it a very unusual circumstance to
follow the application  of leeches ?'   ' No, sir,' said I,
' certainly not; it is the thing which frequently happens
in irritable constitutions; let  me say,  in  persons who
have much disorder in the digestive  functions.'  ' L—d,
sir,'  said the patient,' that is my Case, that is exactly my
case—what must I do ?'   I ordered  a poultice to be
applied to the part, and the digestive organs to be put in
order. The lady then said, ' Will you be good enough to
feel this lump : did you ever know such a lump as mine
is ?'   * Yes, and  if you attend to what I  say, the lump
will  disappear.'   So it did ; it very soon got well, and she
went into the country.  Four  years after, she returned,
with  a similar lump;  I told her,  she must attend to her
diet.  The lump,  egad! to  my astonishment, would not
go.  One day, however, I saw her fingering and pressing
about this  tumour, and I said, ' Madam, pray, do you
finger it in this way frequently?'   'Oh, yes, continually.'
• I insist  on it, then, that  you promise me, immediately,
that  you will not touch  it again for a week, or until I
next  see you.' She did so, and the swelling  soon sub-
sided."
  " Going  round  the  hospital one day," says Abernethy,
" I saw a patient  with an ulcerated leg,  as if of ten years'
standing.   'What do you call this ?'said  I.  'Oh,'said
the dresser,' it is  a case of erysipelas; and he only came
in  last week.'   'Good God,' said  I, 'Is it possible?'
' True, I assure you, Sir, the leg has sloughed, and that
has made it in the state in which you see it'   1 was  in-
duced to ask  the patient what his  previous health had
been, and when his complaint first appeared.   I found 
104
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
that it all arose from  the  stomach—I regulated that, and
the man soon recovered.  Oh! L—, what an excellent
rule that is, not to offend the stomach."
  "I  once lodged in the country during the summer,
where I used to see a man go  by the window every day,
making all the wry faces in the world—one day having
the mouth and chin  drawn up, another, grinning like a
'Cheshire cat.'  I wondered what all this meant  At
last, he called on me one day, because, I suppose, I was
a London surgeon, to consult me.  He was a respectable
farmer, and a well-educated man.  He asked me whether
it was possible for him to be cured ?   Most undoubtedly,
I told him.  Regulate your  diet and bowels ; take a less
quantity of wine than you have been accustomed to; in
short, keep  your system as quiescent as  possible.  By
attention to these circumstances he became quite well, as
you will see by the following  anecdote, which he  after-
wards told.
  "' I returned,' he said,' to the country, and met a sur-
geon in the market who had always attended me.  I said
to him,  Doctor, I will buy sixpenny-worth  of pears, and
lay you a bet that I eat my half of them  before you will
yours.'
  " Whether he  gained the bet or not I don't know, but
the surgeon  was astonished, and said to him, ' I thought
that you could not venture to  eat a pear.'  To which he
replied,' I could sooner have done  as  Martius ScjEvola
did, thrust my right hand into  the fire, than have taken a
cold pear into my mouth.' "
  In speaking of curvatures  of the  spine, Abernethy
observed, "that I have been in the habit of telling a case,
when lecturing  on  this subject,  that occurred in  my
family : a child, young  and active—and  I do  not see
these curvatures  happening  except where there  is some
constitutional disorder—I say,  a girl of this kind became
awry ; I saw the girl when I had  an opportunity, and I
observed she had got one shoulder-strap very often down, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              105
 which she was continually pulling up, and I said to her
 mother,' if you allow that to go on, that shoulder will
 become warped, as sure as you are alive.  Let the gown
 be made in  another way, and  do not let her always be
 twisting herself to  keep up  that shoulder-strap.'   The
 mother said, * O, don't take any notice of it; and  let  it
 pass on  for a'time.'  Then I began  to swear about the
 fashions that had been the cause of those shoulder straps
 being  made  in  such a  way.   But  in the  course  of a
 month the reason appeared why the shoulder-strap did
 not stop on that shoulder; it appeared that that shoulder
 had sunk down about an  inch lower than the other.  I
 then told her to walk before me, and  then to  stop, and I
 observed her particularly, and I found  that  she  was in
 the habit of standing and resting always upon one leg.
 I then began to ask her if there were any  sores about
 her feet, any pains in  her leg, or any thing wrong with
 it, and  she said, no.   I said,' I should like  to see you
 hop;  hop around the room, and then stand;' she did it,
 and  did it very well.  «Now,' said  I,' pass round the
 room  on the other leg ;'  she attempted it as a task, and
 she took a  few  hops, and  then she was  obliged to walk,
 because that  leg was not capable of supporting her."
  In  speaking  of the effects of bleeding, in removing
 temporary  fits of mental derangement, he related  the fol-
 lowing case; loud fits of laughter following its narration.
  " A  gentleman  of fortune residing in Portland Place,
 fell in love  with the late Princess Charlotte of  Wales; and
 so earnest was  he to  obtain her in marriage  that he be-
 came  insane.  His family and  friends became alarmed
 for his personal safety ; and fearful lest he should commit
 suicide, placed  him under the  care of a physician, who
 directed, without loss of time, that he  should be freely
 blooded.  To this, after  repeated attempts, he  refused to
 accede.   However, a pupil of one of the physicians hear-
 ing of the  circumstance, hit upon an expedient, and cn-
LMged to blued the patient.  The plan was contrived, and 
106
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
the patient was introduced to the young gentleman, who
stated that he was the bearer of a message from the Prin.
cess, and requested  to  see  Mr.-------  in  private.  No
sewner was tbis information received, than the pupil was
shown into the  drawing-room.   The door was cautiously
shut, and the patient with great earnestness  requested the
stranger to divulge, without loss of time, what message he
had to  communicate from the Princess.  ' Why, you must
know,  sir,' said he,' that we must be particularly cautious.
I am deputed by the Princess Charlotte to inform you that
she would give you her hand in marriage, but she is pro-
hibited from so doing  in consequence of the  king, her
father, having been informed that you possess white blood
in your veins instead of red.' * Good Heavens!' exclaimed
the patient, 'if that be the case, pray let me  be bled
instantly, that her Royal Highness may be  convinced to
the contrary.'   And, egad !  the pupil did bleed him, until
he nearly laid him prostrate on the floor;  and  in a few
days the patient had recovered, and his delusion of course
left him.
  Mr.  Abernethy had occasionally a most fearful practice
of thinking aloud.   On the day of one of his introductory
lectures, when the theatre of St. Bartholomew was as full
as it could  possibly be, and the  cheering on  his entrance
had subsided, he was observed to cast his  eyes  around,
seemingly insensible to the  applause with which he had
been greeted, and he exclaimed  with great feeling and
pathos, " God help you  all! what is to become  of you ?"
evidently much moved  by the appearance of so  great a
number of medical students, seeking for information to be
fitted for practice.
  Nelson, the water-bailiff, finding his stomach  one day
very much out of order, waited upon Abernethy.   " Well,"
said the eccentric  surgeon, supposing that Nelson was a
farmer, " What's  the  matter  with you ? you  look  big
enough to be well."  « Oh !" said the water-bailiff, «I am
very bad indeed, doctor."  " I am no doctor," said Abcr- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             107
nethy, "lama surgeon.   If you want a doctor you must
go elsewhere."  " I am told as you know how to cure bad
stomachs, sir, and  I am wery bad indeed;  you see  how
swelled  I am," said Nelson,  holding out his body.   " I
can't cure your great paunch," said Abernethy, with his
hands in his pockets, "you must do that yourself; don't
be stuffing  yourself with beer and brandy, but exercise
yourself well at  your farm :  omit a fourth  part of what
you now eat, and take salts:  walk about  in the fields."
" In the fields!" exclaimed Nelson, " God bless your  soul,
what  have I to do with  fields ?  why, I am Nelson, the
water-bailiff."  " Water-bailiff," said Abernethy, " brandy-
bailiff you mean—a devilish little water  goes into that
carcass  of yours—you're a  good friend  to the public
house."   " No, sir," replied Nelson, " never since my son
Jerry, him what kept the Sawyers, died: I never goes no
where to smoke my pipe."  " I tell you," said Abernethy,
"that if you don't stop blowing  yourself out, you'll  soon
go to  smoke your pipe with  your son Jerry."  Nelson
then told his adviser that he would follow his prescription
exaetly.  " Indeed! I  don't  expect that you  will," ob-
served the surgeon, " but  if you wish to live, don't  swill
nor devour so much as  you have done.  Go and buy my
book; and you will know how to get rid of your enormous
corporation, Mr. Wafer-bailiff."   " What,  won't you  let
me have my pipe  and  pint of beer, or  my glass ?" said
Nelson,  disconsolately.  " You may do as  you please : I
can't  stay  with you any longer," said Abernethy: " if
you do as I desire, you will enjoy your health."
  A gentleman farmer, from a distant part of the country,
either fancying there was some  derangement in his sys-
tem, or wishing, after having seen the other sights of the
metropolis, to visit one  of its  principal  lions, Mr. Aber-
nethy, accordingly went to him.   " Do j'ou  make a  good
breakfast ?"  inquired  Mr.  Abernethy.  " Pretty good,"
answered  the  patient.   " You lunch ?"  " Yes, I  take
luncheon."   "Do you eat  a hearty c'r.ner?"  "Pretty 
108             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
hearty."  " You  take  tea, I  suppose ?"   " Yes,  I  do."
" And to wind  up all, you  sup,  I  suppose ?"  " Yes, I
always sup."  " Why then, you beast," said Abernethy,
"go home and eat less, and there will be nothing the
matter with you."
  A lady who went to consult the same  surgeon began
describing her complaint with very great minuteness.
Among other  things she said, " Whenever I lift up my
arm it  pains me exceedingly."  "Why,  then, madam,"
replied  the surgeon,  "what  a  fool  you must  be for
doing so."
  Abernethy was one  of the earliest friends of vaccina-
tion.   In regard to the  welcome  with which "honest
John," as Dr. Walker used to call him, received this boon,
we have the following particulars.  " The French apothegm
' Le scepticism est le vraiflambeau de la science;'  'doubt
is the true torch of science,' was, in the  infinitely im-
portant question  of vaccination,  well  sustained  by Mr
Abernethy, when Dr. Jenner offered protection from thu
most  contagious  disease  that  ever  desolated the earth.
He  listened with enthusiasm to the news immediately
corroborated and proclaimed by  others.   Of this most
wonderful and incomprehensible law in animal physiology
he was sceptical.   He  waited  for facts:  it was only on
witnessing them that  he ceased to hesitate.  He then
zealously came forward in the  formation  and support of
the  vaccine institutions, and administered  the guardian
operation, the great prophylactic, to all his children."*
  In  February,  1828, Abernethy took  the chair at the
annual meeting of the  Royal Jennerian  Society.  In con-
nexion with his becoming chairman, on this occasion, the
following interesting anecdote  is worthy of detail.  It is
recorded in a letter to the editor of the  Times.   " Wait-
ing lately on John Abernethy, on the part of the managers
of the Royal Jennerian Society, to request  him to take the
* Dr. Walker. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
109
chair at the annual meeting, he said, 'Friend Walker, I
am no dinner man, after the manner of the public feasts!'
' There is not to be any dinner; but as their presidential
roll contains the most eminent professional talent, as well
as the highest heraldic rank, they are desirous of the
honour of thy name, who art so noted a public character.'
' The notoriety that is forced  upon me is such, that I be-
lieve  I shall be obliged to run away from you, and leave
the town altogether.'  ' It will be very pleasing to them if
thou  consent'  ' Can I possibly do more for vaccination
than  I have always done, since I, in spite of all my scep-
ticism, became convinced of its efficacy ?   I have always
contributed to the support of  the institutions, and I have
vaccinated all my own  children ; besides, I belong to the
National  Establishment'   'Ay,  there's   the  rub,' en-
deavouring to pique him; 'get connected with  govern.
ment, and you lose your individual independence.'   ' But,
remember, the prime minister, with all his public support
of your united colleges,  was  so well convinced of the merit
of the popular institutions,  as annually to send his indi-
vidual contributions  of five  guineas  in  its  support'
' Well,' said Walker, ' I can only bear to  the  managers
the unpleasant report.   In parting, however, I cannot help
adding, that thy declining to come forward is also painful
to myself.  In the remembrance of ancient friendship, 1
had hoped  the messenger would  have received a prompt
acquiescence.'  ' Oh, stop there! that's a different view of
the case; that's going quite upon another tack. I consent!'
1 That's a good fellow,' seizing him by the hand; ' this  is
proper Irish—a second  William Norris (late president of
the Royal  College of Surgeons), the even unwavering
friend.  Farewell!'"
  The following is Dr. Walker's own account of another
interview which he had  with " honest John," as  he face-
tiously termed the surgical lion of Bedford Row :—
  "John Abernethy I know has his qucernesses, but they
will perfectly well bear analyzation.   Hastening  rather
                         10 
110
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
early to his house in Bedford Row, one morning, I found
him in his back parlour.  ' I am glad I have found thee
alone.  A  physician, come to town with his family from
the west of England, has called upon me with some in-
quiries respecting the classes at your hospital; and I have
promised  him'—' Will you tell me what you are  after V
' Briefly then, he is foolish enough to think he would like
to attend  thy  physiological  lecture!'  ' Have  you  had
your breakfast ?'  «Not yet.'   ' Come along,' and throw.
ing open the intervening door, I found the female part of
his family at their  tea, whose reception of their friends
was never that limited kind of civility the 'great' are
sometimes obliged to receive from the lord of the mansion.
My host laid hold  of a loaf, reached it  over to  me, with
the  observation, 'You  may eat that freely, it is home
made.'  «I'll do it  justice, never fear.'  Eating heartier
than any other  at table, in conclusion he observed, that
' on the first day of the week I regularly got so engaged
among my books and papers, that sansfaire la barbe, my
family dine without me, having taken a double allowance
at breakfast, to  preclude both the appetite  and the neces-
sity  for dinner!'  ' I am glad then, that you called on me
on your first day in preference  to any other.'  From my
history of the loaf of John Abernethy, some of my readers
may  observe on a label,  'Abernethy  biscuits,'  in a
baker's window, in  the Strand, which has  lately met my
eye.   Le  Boulanger n'est pas bete.  The baker knows
that  Mr. Abernethy is, above all things, so attentive to the
digestive organs of his  patients, that by association of his
name with the biscuits, the valetudinarians must flock to
him  for his biscuits, like doves to the windows."
  An unmarried gentleman, living in the neighbourhood
of London, who had long lived in the pleasant enjoyment
of an easy fortune, had  for some time begun to feel several
unwelcome notices of the approach of his grand climac-
teric.  Under the repeated pressure of these warnings, he
was induced to address  a formal note to Abernethy, beg- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.            Ill
ging his attendance for a little  serious conversation, and
professional advice, on the subject of himself; and well
knowing his friend's turn  for conviviality, in order more
to engage his attention, he added, " that he would not in-
terrupt  his morning engagements,  and should have  a
broiled fowl ready for supper at nine; but, for the imme-
diate purpose of having his more confidential opinion, he
wished to see him earlier in the evening."
   Abernethy obeyed  the  summons  of his  friend, and
was at the patient's residence  punctually at the hour ap-
pointed.   After the usual salutations, and a mutual occu-
pation of arm-chairs on each side of the fire, the patient
began to describe with minuteness his various ailments:
" His rest was broken ; bad headache; appetite often en-
tirely gone; languor and listlessness; lumbago; sciatica;
spasm."
   Abernethy listened with great apparent attention, and
nodded  in token of intelligence,  at  the  pause  of every
period;   until  the patient had  exhausted  in every  form
the history of his  symptoms, which he at length brought
to a conclusion with—" and now, my good friend !"  step-
ping across the room for  pen, ink, and paper, " you'll
consider the case,  and write for me."
   Abernethy did not, however,  exhibit any great inclina-
tion to  handle  the weapons thus presented to him; but
eyeing him somewhat closely from top to toe, as he re-
sumed his seat, instead of the pen  he  laid hold of the
poker, and began to amuse  himself with stirring the fire,
observing at the same time, that "the season was rather
severe, and he had a mind to be comfortable, and put
himself in order for what was  coming."  He then com-
menced  whistling; and afterwards  related  a case  of  a
man who had just been admitted  into St. Bartholomew's
Hospital who had nearly  killed himself by over-eating;
ho  then  discoursed most eloquently on the stupidity of
people in swallowing more than their stomach can digest.
As this  had no  relation to his case, the patient rccom- 
112
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
menced describing his numerous ailments, and concluded
by observing, " and now, sir, you will have the kindness
to write for me."  He had, however, occupied so much
time in endeavouring to enforce his symptoms on the
surgeon's attention, that the supper made its appearance,
and the pen and ink were of course dismissed pro hac
vice.  " We'll discuss this first, if you please," said Aber-
nethy, " and then—." The fowl was excellent; the mush-
rooms in high flavour; and  the lemon-pickle of peculiar
poignancy.  It  is scarcely necessary to add, that the
bottle of wine which succeeded, was of the first quality,
and that its flavour  was duly  criticised, as they pro-
ceeded to  empty it, in that  kind  of sober  enjoyment
which only men of cultivated tastes, as well as of culti-
vated understandings, have any relish  for;  whilst the
conversation continued to be sustained on both sides with
easy cheerfulness; and our host, whose animal spirits as
well as his external appearance  by no means synchro-
nized with  his years, was all gaiety.   His train of symp-
toms vanished  and were  forgotten; until the very con-
eluding glass reminding him of  the  object of the party,
he was  induced thus to renew his appeal to the gay and
eccentric Abernethy.
  "Whilst I go for another  bottle," said  the patient,
" you will employ  yourself upon that sheet  of  paper."
He soon returned with a bottle in one hand, and an enve-
lope  of paper in the other, ready  to be exchanged for
medical advice  received.  To his surprise he found that
no prescription had  been  written.  At this moment  he
felt a shoot of  the  lumbago, and casting a rueful look
first at the  paper, and then upon  the countenance of his
friend, he  exclaimed, " My  dear Mr. Abernethy ! I am
most happy to see you ; but—only consider my situation ;
prescribe you must, and shall, by----."   Here  he was
immediately cut short by the other, whose  eye had been
riveted on  the  bottle.  They again  sat and commenced
discussing  the other bottle of wine.  The hours  glided 
               PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.              113

away unheeded, and  it was  past eleven before  he per-
ceived, by the  approaching depletion of the To £\f4>*'Wi
as he held it  in his hand, that it was high time to pull
the bell, with an inquiry for his servant, &c.  Our host
was started from a vision of gaiety by  the unexpected
summons, and grasping  with eagerness the hands of his
guest, did his  utmost to drag him down to his seat, with,
" For heaven's sake, dear  Abernethy!—now—why, you
forget—you're  not  going  without prescribing for  me!
let me  have your advice! what shall  I do?"   With a
waggish  expression of countenance,  Abernethy  com-
menced the following address to the  patient: " Do, my
good  hospitable friend,"  pointing  significantly to  the
neighbourhood of the gastric region, " do, let me entreat
you, take care what you  put into that  big stomach of
yours—there is the seat of your  many ailments—consult
my book—read it with care and attention, and I can as-
sure you, you  will not for  the future stand in need of my
advice."
   Some years before his  death, as Mr.  Abernethy was
walking  up Holborn, he overtook one of his pupils: as
was his custom when he had once noticed intrinsic talent,
he entered into familiar  conversation with him, observing
that he had missed him  for some time in the dissecting-
room. The young man, with tears in his eyes, told him he
was involved in debt, and that his parents, overtaken like
himself by the shafts of adversity, could not grant him the
necessary supplies.  " To what amount are you in debt?"
" About £80, sir," answered the poor bankrupt.  " Well,"
said Mr. A., " call at Bedford  Row to-morrow morning at
ten o'clock, and I will  see what can  be done for you."
The young man was obedient to the wishes of his kind
instructer, when a letter sealed up was put into his hand,
on opening which he discovered a check for £90 !  This
younsj man was  seen  at the grave of his late benefactor
completely grief-stricken.
   Poor John Abernethy was facetious  to the  very last
                         10* 
114             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
He exhibited  the ruling passion strong  in  death*  A
short  period before his death, his legs became cedema-
tous;  and upon  some one inquiring how he was, he  re-
plied, " Why,  I am better on my legs than ever: you see

   * Instances  of the ruling  passion  strong  in death are
numerous.  Stories of Rabelais's  sportiveness and wit to
the last are familiar to every one; such as  his  dressing
himself in a domino, a  short time  before  he  died, and
sitting in it by his bedside, in order, when asked why he
committed so ill-timed an extravagance, he might reply,
"Beati qui in Domino moriuntur."  An anecdote of Mai-
herbe, who was  " nothing if not critical," is not perhaps
so well  known as those relating to Rabelais.  An hour
before his death (says Bayle),  after  he  had  been two
hours in an agony, he awakened on a sudden to reprove
his landlady,  who waited upon  him,  for using a word
that was not  good French;  and when his  confessor re-
primanded him for it, he told him he could not help it,
and that he would defend the purity of the French lan-
guage until death.  When his confessor painted the joys
of Paradise with extraordinary eloquence, and asked him
if he did not  feel a vehement desire to enjoy such bliss,
Malherbe, who had  been  more  attentive   to  the holy
man's  manner  than to  his matter,  captiously replied,
» Speak no more of it;  your bad style disgusts me."  He
was critical to the last gasp. Poor Sheridan, like Rabe-
lais, in the midst of all his  miseries preserved his plea-
santry  and his perception  of the ridiculous,  almost as
long  as life lasted. When  lying on  his death-bed,  the
solicitor, a gentleman  who  had been much favoured in
 wills, waited on him:  after  the general legatee had left
 the room another friend came in, to whom  the  author of
 the School for Scandal said, " My friends have been very
 kind in calling upon  me, and offering their services in
 their respective ways; Dick W. has been here with his
 trill-making face." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             115
how much stouter they are!"   His hobby  retained full
possession of his mind to the end of his life.  He attri-
buted his disease to the  stomach.  He  said, " It is all
stomach;  we use our stomach ill when we are young,
and it uses us ill when we are old."
  It is singular  that he left express commands that his
body should not be opened after his death. 
116              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
                  CHAPTER  III.

       EARLY STRUGGLES OF EMINENT MEDICAL MEN.

Dr.  Baillie—Dr.  Monro—Dr. Parry—Medical Quackery—Sir
  Hans Sloane—An Episode in Real Life—Dr.Culien—Dr.T.
  Denman—Mr.  John Hunter—Dr. Armstrong—Ruling Pas-
  sion strong in Death—Dr. Brown.

  Smollett says, in a letter to his friend David Garrick,
« I am old enough to have seen and observed that we are
all the mere playthings of fortune, and that it depends
upon  something as  insignificant as the tossing  up  of a
halfpenny, whether a man rises  to affluence and honour,
or continues, to his  dying day, struggling with the diffi-
culties and disgraces of life."
  The author of " Roderick  Random," spoke feelingly;
he was a medical man, and knew, by painful experience,
the  peculiar difficulties with  which every medical aspi-
rant has to contend.
  The Roman satirist has expressed, in the well-known
ode, commencing,

       " Justum et tenacem  propositi virum,
         Non civium ardor prava jubentium," &c.

his high gratification at the sight of a "brave man strug-
gling  with the storms  of fate."
  It is difficult, however, to induce the combatant to  take
the  same philosophic view of the matter, or  to say,  with
a sage of antiquity,  " that he delighted to create difficul-
ties in order to experience the high enjoyment of over-
throwing them." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
117
   "Can any thing," says an eminent writer, "be con-
 ceived more dreary and disheartening than the prospect
 before a young London physician, who,  without  friends
 and fortune, yet with high aspirations after professional
 eminence, is striving to weave around him, what is tech-
 nically called, a connexion ?"*
   It is true, that the members of the medical profession
 have to go through the same ordeal  which other  profes-
 sional men  have  to encounter; and  therefore, it may be
 urged, they have no just ground of complaint.   But many
 of the obstacles with which the medical man  has  to con-
 tend are of a peculiar nature.  No other men have to
 combat with more  heart-rending trials and  disappoint
 ments.  How many spirits are broken in endeavouring
 to stem the torrent to which the great majority of  practi-
 tioners in  early  life, are exposed'.   He who enters  the
 ranks of medicine must prepare  his  mind to encounter
 impediments and  mortifications of no ordinary character;
 he must subdue his own prejudices—the prejudices of his
 patients, their relations, and contend  also against the ill-
 office of opposing interests; for it unfortunately happens,
 " that the only judges of his merit, are those who have an
 interest in concealing it."t
   Success  in no profession is so  uncertain as in that of
 physic.  Prejudice and  caprice are capable of conferring
 a name on those who can produce no solid claims  to dis-
 tinctions and pre-eminence, and the popular physician of
 the day is often indebted for his celebrity to a fortunate
 concurrence of circumstances, in which merit can boast
 no share.   The difficulties of advancement in  other pro-
 fessions are  certainly diminished by the  influence  of
 favour and  patronage ; yet even these advantages  arc of
 no permanent utility, unless merit and talent conspire to
 maintain us  in that elevation, which we at first owe to
casual means and fortuitous circumstances. Bat in the
t Dr. Gregory.
"  Diary of a Physician. 
118
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
medical profession, we have daily opportunities of seeing
men brought  into notice by  the  zeal  of their  friends,
family connexion, the recommendation of the great, and
the caprices of fashion, whilst  those without these advan-
tages, are generally uncountenanced and neglected.
  Sir Hans Sloane was accustomed to relate of himself,
that the first circumstance which introduced him  to prac.
tice, was his being engaged at a whist-table with a lady
of quality, who had, fortunately for  him, a return of an
ague  fit.  He prescribed for  her, and  his remedy was
effectual; and this case,  he acknowledged to be the first
foundation of his celebrity.
  It is told  by Steele, that the celebrated Radcliffe used
to advise  parents to  avoid, of  all professions, choosing
that of medicine for their children; and if they should be
resolved,  notwithstanding, to devote a favourite boy to
physic, he would persuade them, as the first step to his
future eminence, to send  the young student to a fencing-
master, and a dancing-school: a strong instance of his
knowledge of the world, and  an honest confession that
merit was not the only security for success in his pro-
fession.
  The talents and skill of a physician and surgeon can-
not be known immediately on their announcing them-
selves  as candidates  for confidence  and  employment.
The medical man must wait the slow  operation of time,
and the intervention  of circumstances favourable to the
developement of his professional abilities.
  It has been remarked, that of those medical men  who
have had the greatest  share of practice and public confi-
dence, the most  of them have previously been conside-
rably advanced in years.  This was the case, in  a re-
markable  degree, with the celebrated Dr. Baillie; for,
when the  great eminence of the latter years of his life
is considered, it might have been expected that he would
have earlier enjoyed  no  small  portion of his fame.   It
was not, however, until he had reached his fortieth  year, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             119
that he found himself fairly established; but he only re-
quired to be known, for, from  that  period, he became
completely engaged in practice, and in a very few years,
rose to great eminence in his profession.
  It is  curious to trace the variety of circumstances
which have  led medical men to celebrity in the metropo-
lis.   " Dr. Baillie,"  says his biographer, Dr. Wardrop,
" was one of those whose success was greatly to be attri-
buted to  professional knowledge adorned with every pri-
vate virtue.  Minute anatomical knowledge  had been too
much disregarded by  physicians  of  his  day,  and con-
ceived necessary for those only who practised surgery.
Dr. Baillie's comprehensive knowledge of anatomy, there-
fore, gave him  immense superiority over those who were
competing with him.  Whenever more than the ordinary
scientific precision was  wanted, his opinion was resorted
to; and  the advantages which  his anatomical skill af-
forded him, soon established his  reputation among the
better-informed  in his profession,  as  well as secured to
him the confidence of the public.   However unaccount-
able it may  appear, yet it is  not less  true, that many of
the physicians then in  London, were of opinion that his
pre-eminence in anatomical  knowledge, instead of esta-
blishing  his  fame as a  practitioner, would be the means
not only of impeding,  but absolutely of frustrating his
prosperity;  and he was in consequence  repeatedly ad-
vised  to relinquish his anatomical pursuits.
  It must, however, be admitted that Dr. Baillie enjoyed
some  unusual advantages, in addition to his own excel-
lent qualities, at the  time he commenced practice.   Be-
sides other family connexions, his name was early brought
before the public as the relative and  pupil of the most
eminent  men of the day: in addition to this, Dr. Pitcairn,
with whom he had been acquainted in very early life, at
the time when he had  arrived  at great eminence,  was
obliged, from declining health, to relinquish his extensive 
120
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIAN.*.
 practice, and Dr. Baillie was  introduced  by him to hia
 patients, which introduction speedily brought  him into
 notice.  After the death of Pitcairn, Baillie's practice in-
 creased so rapidly, that he  was  obliged to  abandon his
 anatomical lectures.
   The celebrated Monro's success in life has been attri-
 buted to his habit of noting down cases; and we owe the
 works of the celebrated  Dr. Parry, which  exhibit a  pure
 science seldom found in  modern  medical writings, to a
 similar  practice.   He says—" The great book of nature,
 which is alike open to all, and is  incapable of deceiving,
 I  have hourly  read,  and I  trust not wholly in vain.
 During the first twelve or fourteen years of my profes-
 sional life, I recorded almost every case which  occurred
 to me, either in private practice  or in the chief conduct
 of an extensive charity.  When afterwards the  multipli-
 cation of common examples seemed to me an unnecessary
 waste of inestimable  time, which might  be much more
 profitably employed,  I contented myself with the  more
 useful task of recording  chiefly such cases, or, on  occa-
 sions, such particular circumstances only of cases, as led
 to the establishment  of principles.  This I-have done
 generally on  the spot, or rarely deferred beyond the day
 of observation, always rejecting what, on repeated varied
 inquiry, I have not been able to verify."
  Dr. Parry himself had to overcome many impediments
 before he  established  himself in  decent practice.  Not-
 withstanding he was an  accomplished  physician, and a
 man of  high  medical  attainments, it is  recorded, that in
the next street  to  the  one in which  he resided, lived a
quack, who commenced business some years after Parry
had announced himself as a candidate for public support,
and who succeeded in being able  to keep  his horse and
 livery servant some time before  the physician had six
 patients on his  daily list  Thus it will  ever be so long 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
121
 as the wise form  but an insignificant  fraction  of the hu-
 man race.*

      " For the dull world, most honour pay to those,
      " Who on their understanding most impose."

   An observer has said, that the illiterate form two-thirds
 of the whole nation, and  yield that conviction  to preju-
 dice and credulity, which they refuse  to solemn  evidence
 and irrefragable exposure.
    By fallacies in physic,  the wise as  well as  the foolish
0 are caught.  But upon what vague and speculative evi-
 dence is fame in medicine built ?  The despotic influence
 of public opinion, of fashion, have  so much to do with
 the success of a medical man.  Of  those of whom we
 think  nothing,  the  "whistling of a name"  will cause
 thousands to think highly ; two-thirds of mankind neither
 can, nor will estimate medical capacity, by any other test
 than that of notoriety.t
   To have a name is every thing to a medical  man ; to
 appear to be  overwhelmed with business is sure to induce
 the public to smile  with  approbation  on his endeavours.
 In an old pamphlet, entitled " When a man's name is up,
 he  may lie  a-bed; or, the  Grand  Quack;"  the writer
 says, " We frequently see some enterprising spirits start
 up, who live  merely by imposing on the public.  I  have
 heard  of a couple  of extravagant fellows  who, having
 spent  their patrimony, consulted how to subsist for the
 future.  One proposed the highway;  but that was ob-
 jected to as  dangerous.  They, therefore, concluded to
 pitch upon some profession, where ignorance could not
 be easily discovered; for it would be  easier to set up for
 statesmen  than as tradesmen. But  as  being  made a
 minister depended  on the favour of others, they sought
  * Collections  from the unpublished Medical Writings
of Dr. Parry, Vol. i. p. 48.
  t Medical Ethics, by Dr. Perceval.
                         11 
122             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
to find out something that might depend upon themselves;
and as law and  physic were professions which required
but little stock, they fixed upon these.  This being agreed
upon, they drew lots, and  one  was dubbed a counsellor
and the other a doctor.  In  the course of their practice,
one ruined his clients, and the  other killed his patients;
yet both grew eminent, rolled in their coaches, and left
great estates."
  A  medical man's success depends greatly upon acci-
dent.   A wealthy influential person, is taken suddenly ill
in his neighbourhood.  The family physician and apothe-'
cary reside some considerable distance off, and the case
being of an urgent nature, the nearest doctor is sent for,
If the  case  terminates  favourably, the practitioner is
treated  as a demi-god, and if he  be a gentleman and
agreeable  in  his manners, he may succeed in  obtaining
an introduction into some good families.
  A  very eminent general practitioner, of the present
day,  relates  the following  circumstances as  connected
with his early career.  After graduating at the College
of Surgeons and  Apothecaries' Hall, he took a small
house in a neighbourhood where he thought it was likely
he should  succeed  in obtaining a practice.   His property
amounted to a little furniture, which his mother had left
him, a few bottles  for his surgery, and a hundred pounds
in cash.   Having fixed upon a locality, he took posses-
sion of his habitation, sat down and waited anxiously for
patients.  Six months passed away, and not one patient
had he seen! He was always at his post—dressed well—
and was by no means deficient in  his attainments as a
scholar and as a medical man.  He was advised to change
his residence; but he refused to do so, being determined
to establish himself where  he had first commenced, or
abandon the profession altogether.  His money, although
he lived very economically, was nearly expended, and he
had no other  resources whatever.  Having some talent
for composition, he wrote an article for a newspaper; and 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.            123

was mortified to find next day, among the notices to cor-
respondents, the following:—" Medicus ;—the  communi-
cation  is unsuited to our  pages."   A friend  suggested
that he should write a small pamphlet on a disease which
was then prevailing epidemically.  The pamphlet was
written;  but alas! after having walked his shoes nearly
off his feet, he could not succeed in inducing  any book-
seller to print it.  Many offered to publish the pamphlet
at the  author's risk, but he declined this arrangement,
and  the  unfortunate MS.  was  thrown  upon  the shelf.
The surgeon  was recommended to look out  for a wife
with a little money, as  the only way to relieve him from
his present situation; but  he found  this to  be impracti-
cable, owing to his not being able to dress like a gentle-
man,'and  his  tailor hesitated to trust  him  with more
clothes.  Distress followed distress in rapid succession,
until the poor  man  was a miserable, heart-wearied, and
nearly heart-broken wretch.  How truly has Spenser de-
lineated his situation:

   " Full little know'st thou that hast not tried
    What hell it is, in suing long to bide;
    To lose good days that might be better spent;
    To waste long nights in pensive discontent.
    To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;
    To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow :
    To fret the soul with crosses and with cares,
    To eat the bread thro' comfortless despairs."

  Having thus been brought nearly to the verge of ruin,
he was seated one evening before  his  surgery fire, cogi-
tating what step to take to relieve him from his pecuniary
difficulties, when  he heard the  surgery bell  ring  most
violently.   To the door  he immediately hastened, when
lie saw a crowd in  the  street, and two men carrying a
gentleman, who appeared  to be much injured.   Admis-
sion  was  directly  given  to  the  parties, when, upon  in- 
124
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
  quiring what had occurred, he  ascertained that the pa-
  tient had been thrown out of a cab, and it was  supposed
  that he was  nearly killed.   Upon examining  the  gentle-
  man, it was found that he had  received a severe concus-
  sion of the brain, in addition to the shoulder-joint being
  dislocated.  Having reduced the luxation, the gentleman
  was placed in bed, and when reaction had  taken place
  he was bled.  By this time  the surgeon  ascertained from
  a policeman  who had  emptied the  gentleman's pockets,
  that he was a man of title, and at that time of eminence
  as a politician.  A despatch was forwarded to his house
  at the west  end, to acquaint his family of the accident
  that  had  occurred.  His brother  immediately came to
  see him, bringing  with  him  a physician of great cele-
  brity.  A consultation took place, and as  the physician
  highly approved of all that had been done, and it was not
  thought advisable to move the patient  in his present con.
  dition, he was accordingly left under the care of the sur-
  geon into whose house he was first brought.  The gene-
  ral practitioner was unremitting  in his attention to his
  distinguished patient, watching him  by day and  night.
  In the course of a week, the physician suggested the pro-
  priety of removing him to his own house, which was ac-
  cordingly accomplished.  The  apothecary was desired to
  continue  his visits, which  he did until his  patient was
  completely restored to health.   As a reward for his ser-
  vices, a  cheque for £100 was  forwarded to the apothe-
  cary, and he was enrolled as surgeon to the family.  So
  grateful  were the friends of the  patient, that they suc-
  ceeded in introducing the general practitioner into many
•> highly  respectable families.   Once being  known, his
  practice  rapidly increased, and he is at the  present day
  one of our first general practitioners.
    The pamphlet, to which  allusion has been made, has
  been  published, and it demonstrates that the  writer is a
  man  of great powers of observation, and possesses an in-
  timate knowledge of the subject which he has illustrated. 
               PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             125

  The early  struggles of the medical  man, which we
have thus endeavoured  briefly to sketch, is  but a speci-
men of the lives of thousands of medical  practitioners,

         ----" What rugged places lie between
         Adventurous Virtue's early toils,
         And her triumphal throne !"

  " It is morally impossible," says  Dr. Gregory, " for any
great number of physicians, or for any large proportion
of those who  may choose to try their fortunes in a great
town, ever to rise to eminence, or to acquire  extensive or
lucrative practice."  In proportion, at least, to the great
eminence and wealth that a few in  our profession have ac-
quired in any city, or more probably, in much greater pro-
portion, will  the number of adventurers in the medical
lottery in that place be increased;  each  trusting much to
his own merit  and his good  fortune.   But the people
among whom, and by whom, they must live, are not in the
least disposed to trust any of them, without the recommen-
dation, at least, of pretty long acquaintance, or what they
may  think satisfactory experience of their talents  and
professional knowledge.  Each for his  own sake,  or for
that of any of his family, when sick, will be eager to ob-
tain the assistance of some physician whose character is
already established.  This is the true origin and rational
foundation of the common remark, that "a physician
cannot earn  his bread until  he has  no teeth to  eat it."
This point was well explained some hundred years ago,
when men wore long beards, and the Pope was infallible.
His holiness  had the misfortune to lose his physician, in
whom  he  had  great  confidence.   Many physicians, of
course, were  eager to offer their services to the Pope, who
could not, for some time, find out any one that suited him,
or who had the sense to answer a simple question, which
the Pope put to them successively : " How many have you
killed?"  One after the other  declared, that they had
                          11* 
126             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

never killed any man.  At last, a shrewd-looking old fel-
low, with a large bushy beard, made his appearance, and
offered his services.  The Pope put the usual question to
him.  " Tot quot," said the old fellow, grasping his beard
with both hands.  The Pope chose him for his physician.
  We remember having read, in some French author, of
a lover, who, being on the point of losing his mistress by
a dangerous illness, went in search  of a physician, on
whose skill he might depend.  In his  way, he met with a
person who  possessed a talismanic  mirror, by which, ob-
jects,  undiscernible to the naked  eye, could be distin-
guished.   Having  purchased this  wonderful instrument,
he made  all possible  haste to the  house of a celebrated
physician in the neighbourhood.
  In  this mansion he beheld a  multitude  of spectres,
which were the souls of men, women and children, whom,
in attempting  to cure  of various diseases, the physician
had killed.  Struck with terror at the  sight, the young
man effected a hasty retreat, and  visited  another practi.
tioner, in whose house he beheld similar spectres, but not
so many in  number.  Still  terrified and disgusted he
again fled with precipitation, and successively entered the
habitations of several other medical gentlemen, determined
to find out some one who was guiltless of the blood of his
fellow-creatures; but,  alas!  the  poor fellow met with
similar scenes,  more  or  less  aggravated  by numbers,
wherever he went.
  At length, almost in despair of finding  any medical
man fit for his purpose, or whom  he could dare to em-
ploy, he was bending his steps  homeward sorrowful and
sad, when he was asked by a friend who met him, whether
in the course of his peregrinations, he had called upon  a
practitioner  who lived in an obscure corner of the city ?
  He replied, that  he had not—he  must have escaped his
notice; but  that he would now  bend his way to the
suburbs, for  that purpose.
  Accordingly, the young man  soon arrived at this  doc- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
127
 tor's house,  and having consulted  his talisman, he per-
 ceived, only, the tiny souls of two little children.   " Now !"
 exclaimed the lover, in a transport of joy;  "at length I
 have discovered a skilful and  an honest physician, who
 will  speedily restore my beloved to  health, and to my
 arms."
   Having related his business, the physician put  some
 medicines into  his  pocket-case, and  prepared to accom-
 pany him to the abode of his  charmer.  On  their way,
 his  curiosity was excited to ask the young  man how he
 had found him out, as he lived  at such a distance ?
   " How !" replied the latter;  " why, by your reputation
 —your skill!"
   " My reputation !" returned the compounder of drugs ;
 "L—d, sir, you  are certainly  quizzing, I have  not been
 more than eight days in  business, nor have  yet  seen but
 two patients."
   A country doctor, who had been an  apothecary, and
 afterwards a physician at  Bath, was obliged  to fly for
 debt; and finding himself at Berlin, was introduced to the
 old  King of Prussia.  The king said to him:—" Vous
 devez avoir tui beaucoup de monde  ?"—" Pas autant que
 votre Majesti"  was the candid  reply.  It  is said of a
 Swiss physician, that he never  passed the churchyard of
 the place where he resided, without  pulling out his pocket
 handkerchief, and hiding his face with it, saying, that the
 number of persons who had  found their way there, under
 his direction, made him apprehensive lest some  of them,
 recognising his features, should oblige him to take up his
 lodging along with them.
  The success of the great Dr.  Cullen was owing to acci-
 dent.  This  eminent physician  was long  an  obscure
 medical practitioner, in  a country village  in Scotland,
 where he could neither  obtain fame nor riches; but it
 happened whilst he  resided there, that Archibald, Duke
of Argyle, visited a gentleman in the neighbourhood; the
 Duke was fond of the study of chemistry, and often ex- 
128             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
perimented in the science; but while on this visit, he was
much at a loss  for want of  a small  chemical apparatus.
His host recollecting  Mr. Cullen, invited  him to dinner,
introduced him to the Duke, as a person likely to  supply
his wants.   An introduction to  one  of his grace's great
political influence  could not but  be  favourable.  The
Duke was highly pleased with Cullen, in whom he found
a man not only with a mind more than ordinarily cultivated
in professional knowledge; but possessing, as well, more
than the average information of the fine arts, of which the
Duke was passionately fond.   Cullen was  naturally a
gentleman—his manners were  bland and  conciliating
without approaching  to obsequiousness, and he sewn won
the affections of his noble friend, who introduced  him to
the Duke of Hamilton, on whom he performed a success.
ful cure; which circumstance  completely established his
reputation: prior to  this fortunate event, it is  said that
Cullen had serious thoughts of abandoning the profession
of medicine for the church, so disheartened was he with
the slow advancement he  made as  a practitioner.  For-
tunately for science and mankind this great man was not
permitted to carry his idea  into execution.
   How many practitioners  there are in this great metro-
polis, who are  doomed to a life of misery and wretched.
ness, in consequence  of their not being able to make the
public  believe  that they are entitled  to a share of their
support.
   To succeed in  the  medical  profession  requires, on the
part of the practitioner, in far the great majority of cases,
a degree of chicanery and  trickery, from which  men of
honourable and gentlemanly feelings naturally recoil.
   The  " tricks of the trade," are as numerous in medicine
as in law ; and he who has recourse to them the  most is
the most successful man.
   The  public believe that medical knowledge is to be  ob-
tained  by intuition :  they cannot conceive, or  if they do, 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
129
they never regard, the labour and study which every practi-
tioner  has to exercise, before  he is qualified  or  even
allowed to practise his profession.
  " We hear," says Dr. Moore,  " people every  day, in
talking of their physician, use language of this kind :  ' I
own he is a very weak, silly man; but he has had a  great
deal of experience;' or,' I grant yon, he is an ostentatious,
parading coxcomb,  next to a fool, in other respects : but
he is an  excellent physician.'  They seem to think, that
common sense  diverts-a man from the study of his pro-
fession; like the French lady,  who, being told  that her
physician had not common sense, replied, ' Tant mieux;
un homme qui passe son temps  a etudier le sens commun,
comment peut-il apprendre la medecine ? Monsieur I'Abbe
qui parle Grec comme Homere ne suit pas danser.' "*
  " I made  my son  study  medicine," said a gentleman,
" because I found he was unfit for any thing else."  What
a  satire  upon  one  of the most learned  and respecta-
ble of the professions!  As long as practitioners have re-
course to  unprofessional and illegitimate modes of obtain-
ing notoriety, so long will the sensible portion of the pub-
lie entertain but a low estimate of the medical character.
  We will admit that a  medical man, in entering  upon
his professional career, has many  disheartening things to
combat with; we know that he has to travel on " a long,
a rough, and a  weary road ;" but this does not justify him
in doing any thing  likely to  depreciate his profession in
public estimation.
  Quackery, we have no  doubt, succeeds in many  in-
stances, but this does not warrant us in having recourse
to it.   It is recorded, by a once celebrated physician, that
he happened to call  upon a lady, who, on account of pain,
  * " So much the better; a man who passes his time in
studying common sense, how  can he learn  medicine ?
Monsieur I'Abbe, who speaks Greek like  Homer, cannot
dance." 
130
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
and a slight swelling in her ankle, had consulted a well.
known doctor, who was distinguished  for  charlatanical
parade in his practice, and as a natural result, commanded
the admiration  of his patients to an astonishing degree.
He had just left his  patient, when the other physician
entered ; she told him, he  had ordered a poultice of bread
and milk to be  applied  to the part, and  then, giving the
watch to her maid, she desired her to take particular care
that the poultice should be boiled exactly four minutes and
a half, for  such was  the  express  orders of Monsieur le
Docteur.  On the physician expressing his surprise at the
minuteness of these orders, the patient exclaimed, " Mon
dieu! quelle precision!  il calcule comme un ange .'"*
  A gentleman in very  extensive practice, in the north of
England, once communicated to a friend the secret of his
success.  This practitioner attended the  families of some
of the most distinguished  of the nobility in  his neighbour-
hood.  Upon being asked  to what circumstance he attri-
buted his popularity, he said that when he commenced
practice, it was his custom to send out draughts wrapped
up in differently coloured  papers, and tied over with great
neatness.   He said, this  pleased the children, and made
him  a subject of frequent conversation; and in this way
he obtained notoriety and  practice.   He  certainly, by the
  * Madame de Sevigne somewhere tells us of a whimsi-
cal way in which a doctor manoeuvred with his patient.
He  was ordered to take seize gouttes d'un elixir  dans
trois cuilleries d'eau  (sixteen drops of an elixir in three
spoonfuls of water).  The doctor assured the patient, if he
had taken four instead of three, all would have been over.
This lady  is  very merry with  the doctor  on  some oc-
casions, and cites a case of a patient ordered to take exer-
cise in his chamber after a pill, stopping short, in great
dismay, "parce qu'il a oublie si e'est en long ou en large."
The patient had forgotten whether he  was  to exercise
himself the length or breadth of the room! 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             131
 mode  of putting  up his medicine, charmed away the
 nauseousness of physic; but it spoke little for his intellect
 to confess that he owed his reputation to such chicanery.
  'A youthful appearance is often a great impediment to
 a young physician's success; for  the  public, or at least
 the portion to which a medical man  looks for  support,
 naturally associates with advanced years great experience.
 Again, the public, with  its  present amount of medical
 knowledge, is incapable of detecting the attainments or
 deficiencies of the  professors of medicine ; it cannot draw
 a line of demarcation between the illiterate and shallow
 pretender,  and the  man  of  high  scientific attainments.
 How often do we  witness a man, accomplished in every
 branch of the science  of medicine, doomed to struggle,
 until nearly heart-broken, against the adversities  of the
 world, whilst the man of  no  scientific acquirements, but
 who is well versed in the quackery of the  trade, is allowed
 to roll  in his carriage, and fare sumptuously every  day !
   It is difficult to say, how this is to be remedied.  Some
 have suggested, that we should give the  public some ge-
 neral knowledge of medicine, and  then it will be compe-
 tent to distinguish the educated  from  the  uneducated
 man;  but,  although this might, to  a  certain  extent,
 remedy the evil, it would not altogether prove a panacea
 for the malady of which we complain.  In  medicine, " a
 little knowledge is a dangerous thing,"  although Pope's
 maxim will not admit of universal application.  We can-
 not say to  the  reading medical public, to the amateur
 practitioners of  medicine, so far shalt thou go, and no
 farther; once give them a taste for quacking themselves,
once admit them into the outskirts of the medical harem,
and immediately they will exclaim, " I am Sir Oracle."
  Nothing  is more annoying to the practitioner, than to
be compelled to explain to every old woman (and this he
must do, if he wishes to ingratiate himself with her), the
precise locality and nature of the real  or imaginary ail-
ment under which  she is labouring, and for the removal 
132
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
of which he is summoned to her side.  But according to
the present notion of things, he must do so, or abdicate his
functions.*  The physician has good  reason for exclaim-
ing, blessed be he who first  discovered the  nerves;  for,
in the hour of danger and difficulty this is a secure haven
into which  the poor  weather-beaten practitioner  often
takes shelter.  The  patient is satisfied  if you give a
" local habitation and a name" to  the complaint, it being
a matter of indifference  to him whether he comprehends
it or not.
  We recollect to   have  heard  a  medical gentleman
seriously  maintain, in the presence of a  large  assembly
of non-professionals, that the real cause and nature  of all
fevers was the  excessive generation of heat.  This notion
he defended rather ingeniously, and every person present
considered him a  sensible and well-informed man.   We
attempted to controvert his  position; but we found that
our opponent had  obtained the  assent of the majority of
his hearers, and of course we did not, in parliamentary
language, call  for  a division.
   " If I did but know a few physical hard words!" says
the patient. " A  few physical hard words," replies the
mock-doctor; " why, in a  few physical hard words con-
sists the science."
   " My  dear  medical  man," says a lady  to  a friend,
" talks so beautifully; he explains  every thing to me;
and his language  is so learned; I'm sure he must have
expended a fortune in his education !"  Of such a " dear
medical  man," how truly it may be said,

       " In trifling show, his tinsel talent lies,
        And form, the want of intellect supplies;

   * " It  is always a satisfactory thing to  a patient,"  says
the facetious Wadd,  " to trace his complaint to a  visible
cause.   I once knew a lady, suffering from what is tech-
nically called  a catarrh (vulgo, cold), who had her mind
set at ease by  her Abigail discovering that her  complaint
 arose from her having read a damp play-bill!" 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
133
    Hourly his learned  impertinence affords,
    A barren superfluity of words.
    The patient's ears remorseless he assails,
    Murders with jargons, where his medicine fails."*
  It is not the circumstance of a  medical man having to
struggle  against adversity and misfortune which  is  so
mortifying to him; for he knows the members of every
profession have to stem the same torrent; but the pecu-
liar difficulties with which the practitioner  of medicine
has to contend, arise from the circumstances of his being
convinced by cruel experience, that to succeed in his pro-
fession he  must, to a certain extent, have  recourse  to
means repugnant to all men of proper feeling.
  * Let our readers bear in mind the following observa-
tions of a sensible writer :  " Since it is decided that we
cannot live  or  die without physicians, we may at least
make choice among them.   Let not that choice fall upon
him who can display the most eloquence and learning,
but upon him who is most  attached  to you.  Forgetting
their profession, they depart from their  thickets, and in-
vade the  forests of poets  and fields of orators.  More
busied in showing off than in healing, they bawl about
the bed  of  the patient a  hotch-potch  of the ideas of
Cicero, and  the aphorisms  of Hippocrates.  The malady
grows  worse; but that  goes for  nothing, provided they
succeed in  making it said,  ' here's a  man who  talks
well.'  A physician who has the talent of speech, renders
himself the  arbiter of your  lives and  deaths.   But regard
as an assassin,  as a giver of poison, every  physician who
has more babble than wisdom and experience.   Say to
him, as said the old man in Plautus,' Depart: you were
sent for to cure, not to declaim !' To avoid the reproaches
of your physicians, I say nothing  but what is drawn from
Pliny, who speaks more of them than any one else."—
Memoirs  pour la vie de Petrarque, par I'Abbe de Sade.
Vol. iii. p. 99.
                          12 
134             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

  This  is not so much the case in the legal as in the
medical profession.  The  barrister has, in the majority
of cases, to do  with a man acquainted with law techni-
calities  and forms; he seldom comes into direct contact
with his client; and the attorney takes care to select a
man in whom  he can safely place his client's interest;
but how differently is the medical man situated !  There
are legal as well as medical quacks;  but we are bound
to confess that the latter preponderate.
  The remedy exists  in the profession itself.  We want
a  moral revolution in  medicine.  Let medical men  re-
spect themselves, and they will command the respect of
the public.  Dr. Lettsom, who was in his day an eminent
and successful physician, in a letter to his friend, Sir M.
Martin, says, speaking  of his (Dr. L.'s) son, a youth of
great promise, and intended for the  profession,  "The
character given by his master is, in my opinion, highly
flattering; he is, in some  measure, deficient  in memory,
but his apprehension is  quick, and his  application great;
the two last will amply compensate for the defect of the
first."
   In alluding  to the qualities of mind necessary in a
physician  to  insure  success, he observes:  " Many, I
might say most, of the  distinguished characters in medi-
cine, have risen rather by application than by the advan-
tages of memory:  for those who are blest with the latter
faculty are very often indolent, and thereby lose more, in
proportion, from the want of industry.   Brilliancy is not
distinguished  for solidity.  Success  in physic depends
more upon judgment than  quickness  of memory.  The
first strikes to the bottom, the latter skims  the surface.
I know, where both are combined, the character will  be-
come more elevated; but they rarely associate; and  the
want of memory may be assisted by art  This defect is
my lot.  I believe I possess industry.   I made artificial
tables of my own; and, by arrangement and art, I appear
to those, who  know no  better,  to  possess memory.   I 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIAN6.
135
suppose I have forty thousand notes which I can refer
to.  Some years since, I was desired to deliver an ora-
tion at a short notice.  This I effected by my notes, and
my auditory thought I  possessed memory in a high
degree; but, alas ! it was fictitious."
  " Success in the medical profession always attends the
diligent."   So says Dr. W. Hunter; we wish we could
Bay that we agree with him in opinion ;  but evidence,
painful evidence, is against his  position.  His words are
these:  " An opinion,  the  child  of spleen and indolence,
has been propagated, which has done  infinite prejudice
to science as well as virtue.  They would have us be-
lieve that merit is neglected, and that ignorance and
knavery triumph  in the world.   Now, in our profession,
it seems incontestable that the  man of abilities and dili-
gence  always  succeeds.   Ability, indeed, is not the only
requisite ; and  a  man may fail who has nothing besides
to recommend  him, or who has some great disqualifica-
tion of head or heart  But sick people are so desirous of
life and health, that  surely the  man who  is not  really
able in his profession, will have the least chance of being
thought so.  In my opinion, a  young man cannot culti-
vate a  more important truth than this, that merit is sure
of its reward in this world."*
  The question is not, is a man of talent  and  learning
always rewarded,  but is his success in life at all com-
mensurate with his industry and merit ?  Judging from
the result of our own observation, and from what we have
read, we should certainly answer  the latter question in
the negative.
  It is hoped, however, that what we have been compelled
to state, will not have an evil  tendency on the minds of
our youthful readers.  If the man of industry, if the man
who by unwearied  application has acquired  a  thorough
knowledge  of the  different branches of medicine, eloes
* Vide Introduc. Lect p. 102. 
136
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
not invariably elevate himself to an exalted position, he
stands a fair chance of acquiring a certain  amount of
fame and fortune.  We cannot all  become generals and
colonels, and we must be satisfied if we are permitted to
enjoy the " luxury of doing  good," as inferior officers in
the medical  army.  If we do not attract the notice of the
world ;  if our names are not associated with the great
and good in  the records of science and philanthropy; we
have, at least, the consciousness of the rectitude of our
intentions, which ought to console us for  any deficiency
of worldly honour which  it may be our lot to endure.
   In  our  researches into medical biography, we have
discovered  many  instances  of men who have had  to
struggle in life with fearful difficulties. We have selected
a  few prominent cases  which we  hope will have  the
effect of rousing  the energies of those who may at this
moment be  combating  with the cares and  disappoint-
ments of the world.
   The first  illustration is that of the celebrated father of
the present Lord Chief Justice of England.
   Prefixed  to Dr. Denman's  " Introduction to the Prac-
tice of Midwifery," is a deeply interesting autobiographi-
cal memoir  of the writer, in  which he has detailed an
account of the difficulties with which he had to contend,
in endeavouring to establish himself in London practice.
   For  some period  Dr. Denman  remained with  his
brother  at Bakewell, who succeeded his father in prac
ticc.  He acquired at this time  some knowledge of his
profession, and in 1754 he came to London for further
improvement and information.  " The money," he says,
" with which I  was  supplied for this purpose, amounted
to 75Z.;  507. bequeathed  by my grandfather, and 252.  as
my share of what my father was supposed to be worth at
the time of his death."
  " As I am now," he continues, "entering upon the de-
tails of my  own life, I  may  be permitted  to speak  of
myself.  I.had been educated at the Free-School at Bake- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             137
well, in  such sort of knowledge as my old master, Mr.
Hudson, was capable of teaching.  I  understood a little
Greek; I was tolerably well informed in the Latin lan-
guage, and wrote a good hand.
  " I had not been instructed in any of those accomplish-
ments which serve to show inferior capacities to advan-
tage, nor had I seen much company,  having never been
from home a week at any time of my  life.
  " It might be truly said that I was  ' home-bred;' but I
had an  excellent constitution, having been accustomed
to live on the most homely diet, and I had hardly ever
been out of bed  at ten o'clock at night.  In short, I was
a meagre,  hungry,  sharp-set  lad; though  my education
was very incomplete, I had a very competent knowledge
of pharmacy, and knew as much of disease as the  fre-
quent reading of Dr. Sydenham's works and a few other
books could give me.  I had a common understanding,
and some ambition to succeed in the world, though I was
ignorant of the  means of procuring  success; but I had
been trained in  habits of industry, frugality, and  civility
or respect to those with whom I had been connected.
  " When  I arrived in town, I  was recommended  to
Mr. Hunt, a hair-dresser in Dean Street, with whom  my
brother had lodged and boarded.  I paid him ten shillings
and sixpence a week, and a bad  bargain he had.  The
money 1 brought with me to London was intended for
the purpose of enabling me to attend  St. George's Hospi-
tal, and two courses  of anatomical lectures; but in six
months  it was  wholly expended.  I   knew little  of eco-
nomy, for having never been  accustomed to the manage.
ment  or disposal of money, I acted  as  a child  in this
respect, contriving how  to spend it  as soon it was re-
ceived.  This was  rather a misfortune than a fault; but
it is amazing to me, when I  recollect how many vears I
lived in  the world without changing  this disposition, and
how many inconveniences it caused me in the  course of
my life.  My money  being gone, there was a necessity
                         12* 
138             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
of seeking  some  employment for  immediate  support.
Many were thought of, but none seemed so agreeable to
myself or friends as going to sea  in the king's service.
I applied to the navy-board for an order to be examined
at Surgeons' Hall; and, very much to my own  astonish.
ment, I passed as  surgeon to a ship of sixth rate, April
3d, 1755.  The ship to which I was  appointed lay  at
Blackstairs;  but I  had no  money to  prepare for the
voyage, or to bear my expenses to  the ship. I pawned
my watch, and set off with about forty shillings in my
pocket, to enter among strangers  upon a way  of life  of
which I had  no more idea than of the Mogul's court"
  After Dr.  Denman's return from  sea, he was recom-
mended by his friends to settle at  Winchester.   At this
time he had saved  up £500.  After residing at Winches-
ter for some time, he says in his journal, " I soon became
impatient of waiting, and began  to blame myself and
others for having undertaken  a matter of so much im-
portance without more deliberation.  I  fretted, made my-
self less  likely to  succeed by uneasiness and solicitude,
and, after teasing  myself and my friends for about four
months, I determined to quit Winchester, having thrown
away, since   my arrival in England, nearly two hundred
pounds."
  Dr. Denman left Winchester for  the great metropolis;
and after  attending a course  of anatomical lectures and
dissections, on the recommendation of Drs. Kelly and
Kirkpatrick,  he obtained  his degree of M.D.  from the
University of Aberdeen.
  Dr. Denman  received forty pounds in  fees  the first
year; but this sum, he says, " though  not adequate  to
pay my expenses,  gave  me some encouragement."  He
then published an essay on puerperal fever, which gained
him  some credit and increased his practice.   He also
published  a  letter  to Dr. Hirch, on the  construction and
use of vapour baths; but this, the author says, " scarcely
produced so much as to pay the expense of printing it." 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             139

  The doctor, finding it difficult to support himsolf from
the proceeds of his practice, applied to be appointed sur-
geon to one of the king's yachts.   He received the  ap-
pointment, which was  worth £70 a year to him ;  but, in
1777, he was obliged to resign the situation, as the yacht
was ordered upon service, and the attendance would have
been  incompatible with his London business.  But to
continue the doctor's autobiography: " The  whole sav-
ings," he says, " of the nine  years I had been  at sea,
were now entirely expended, and I had, with  great diffi-
culty,  kept myself out of debt; the  thoughts  of which
hurting my pride, and  giving  me very mortifying reflec-
tions, I began to be very circumspect about my  expenses.
However, on  the strength  of the  yacht, I had taken  a
small house in Oxendon Street; but I furnished only one
parlour, thinking to complete it gradually, as I was able;
and I hired a  maid servant, who cheated  me very much.
When I went into this  house, excepting  my furniture, I
had but twenty-four shillings in the world, but I was  out
of debt.  My  business increased every year;  and, in the
third  year after I had taken my house, I had  two hun-
dred "and  fifty pounds; which,  together with the profits
for  the yacht, prevented all present inconvenience, and
gave me better hopes for the future.
  " About this time died Dr. Cooper, a teacher of mid-
wifery, of no  great  reputation.  Mr. Osborn,  who had
attended St. George's Hospital when I did, and  who was
pretty  much in the same  predicament, with respect to
fortune, as myself, agreed to give lectures with me.  We
purchased  Dr. Cooper's apparatus for £120, and great
difficulty we had  to raise the  money between  us.  We
began  to read lectures in the year 1770, awkwardly
enough, and with  little  encouragement, as I suppose most
people  do at first; but,  it is probable that  we improved,
for, in  a  short time,  the lectures flourished, and, with
them, my business, and, I believe, my credit also.
  " Dr. Cooper had likewise  been man-midwife to  the 
140             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

Middlesex  Hospital;  I offered myself as a candidate to
succeed him;  and, after  a very hard  contest,  some ex.
pense, and endless trouble, I was elected jointly with Dr,
Krohn.
  " I was now surgeon to the William and Mary yacht,
I was teacher of midwifery, I  was man-midwife to the
Middlesex  Hospital,  I  had  published two pamphlets,
which had at least acquired me a character for industry
and common abilities, and I got upwards of £300 a year
by my business.  I was in the thirty-seventh year of my
age, and I determined to marry;  and, becoming ac-
quainted with  the  family  of Mr. Brodie,  a respectable
army linen-draper, I chose Elizabeth, his youngest daugh-
ter, then in the  twenty-fourth year  of her  age.   I re-
ceived no money as a dowry, but two leasehold houses in
Vine Street,  Piccadilly,  which  produced £80  a  year,
clear of all deductions.
  " It is impossible to have chosen a wife  more suitable
to my disposition and circumstances ; her manners were
amiable, her disposition  gentle, her understanding  natu-
rally good, and ijnprovcd by reading and the conversation
of reasonable  people,  and she had  that regard for •truth
and  propriety, that I was firmly persuaded no human
consideration could induce her to depart from them.  She
was frugal without meanness, temperate,  and cheerful;
and it was impossible for any two people  to have lived
together, with more  perfect harmony, than we did for
nine years.
  " My assiduity  increased  with my family, so that in
the very year we  were  married,  we saved £200, and
have  continued to  do so every year since.  About two
years after our marriage, I thought it necessary to take
a larger house, partly for appearance, and partly for con.
venience, that in which we lived being too email.  In the
year 1772,1 therefore removed into Queen Street, Golden
Square; which, I thought  would be a  good  situation for
lectures, and for business;  and I soon after purchased the 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             141
lease  of this house for 1,200Z.  Three  hundred pounds
of this money I  had saved, and, for  the rest, I paid in-
terest about four years, when the whole  purchase was
completed.   I had now  a  large  house;   my  business
brought me in about 4002. a year, the lectures 1002., the
houses in Vine  Street 801., the yacht 101., and I lived
rent free.  My business  was  chiefly among  the  lower
class of people, but I never lost sight of the possibility of
getting  business among a higher rank ; and, I had strug-
gled through so  many  difficulties, that my mind became
seasoned against common accidents, and  I was  better
qualified to conduct myself in the more intricate parts of
the business of life.   My  friends have for some  years
given me credit of being  remarkably steady; but, I may
assure thte reader of this, whether  it be my wife, or my
daughters, or my son,  that if I have steadiness, it is all
acquired, my natural disposition being impetuous.  I al-
ways thought steadiness worth every other quality, either
in man  or woman; and it has been  the business of my
life to acquire it.
   " About this time I took courage, and  kept a chariot in
the winter;  but  the advantages which might result from
it, were rather expected than realized.  My business, how-
ever, both increased and improved, though  slowly; but,
in the year 1778, it amounted to 6002.; and the profits of
the lectures  to 1502.; and then I built a new chariot.  In
the year 1777,1 purchased two pieces of land near Lynn,
in Norfolk, for which I paid down 3502., and was to pay
5002. more.   This land was to bring me in  four per cent.
for my money, or 342.  a-year; but I was unfortunate in
my bargain, the value  of money increasing  immediately
after I had made it; first  by the failure  of Mr. Fordyce,
the banker, which put  almost  an  instant stop to all cre-
dit ;  and, secondly, by the French and American war,
which occasioned a real scarcity of money.
   "With my new chariot  I had a coachman in a  hand-
some  livery, and  a servant  behind,  which  were beyond 
142              PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
my wish and inclination, but I thought them due to my
present reputation, as well as  to  my future prospects;
and I hoped that I had secured  my family from distress,
if I were to die before I had  an opportunity of making
any further addition  to  my fortune.  We observed the
most strict frugality in all other respects.  On February
23, 1779, I was made  happy by  the birth of my son,
which was an unexpected blessing, as I had given up all
hopes of having any more  children, my daughters being,
at that time, more than seven years of age.   I shall not
fail to do all in my power  to  provide for them, consirt.
ently  with those rules of probity and integrity which I
have always established  as guides of my conduct; and,
from which, when they are  capable of judging, they will
be  glad  that I  have  never swerved.  If the property I
may leave behind me, should not be so much as they ex-
pect, or as I wish, they will see the reason in this narra-
tive.   Whatever it may be it ought to wear well, because
it has been honestly gained.  They will see  an example
of the good which attends  industry and fair intentions,
even when counteracted by errors and indiscretion.
   " The continuation of this memoir must be left to some
future period, and it concludes for the present on the 5th
of August, 1779."
   Thus  concludes  the deeply interesting autobiography
of Dr. Denman.  It  appears that, after  having written
the above account of his early life, he  found that his bu.
siness did not increase as  rapidly as he anticipated, and
he was compelled to take pupils; three of whom attained
considerable eminence in the profession, viz., Dr. Parry,
of Bath ; Mr. Chesshen,  of Hinckley ; and Philip Marti-
ncau, Esq., of Norwich.
   In  1781 his house  was burned down,  which involved
him in considerable pecuniary difficulties.  On the death
of Dr. Hunter, Denman rose rapidly in practice, and was
placed at the head of his profession.  Upon removing his
residence to Old Burlington Street, he was called to at- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             143
 tend the late Duchess of  Devonshire—a circumstance
 particularly gratifying to him, as, from the impression of
 his  early life, he  always felt strongly attached to  that
 noble family.
   Dr. Denman  now finding the duties of his profession
 too laborious for him, he gradually introduced his son-in-
 law, Mr. Croft, who had chosen  the  same  branch  of the
 profession, and who attended to the  more arduous duties
 of the practice, until the doctor finally retired from the
 field.  Doctor Denman  died in the year 1815.  The fol-
 lowing lines were written for his epitaph:—

          " Here lies Doctor Denman,
          An excellent penman,
        And related to Baillie and Croft:
          He attended the Queen,
          As all must have  seen,
        And his works are read frequent and oft.
          But, his works put aside,
          His fame should spread wide,
        With the liberal deeds of his life;
          For, though under ground,
          His good deeds will be found
        Carried  on in the deeds of his wife."*

   Of the early life of John  Hunter  we are indebted for
the following particulars to Mr. Palmer, who has prefixed
a valuable memoir of this celebrated  surgeon to his  edi-
tion of his writings.
   When Hunter was about seventeen, he went for a time
on a  visit  at  the  house of his  brother-in-law,  Mr. Bu-
chanan, under the  hope of being able to assist in freeing
him from his pecuniary difficulties, into which convivial
  * Alluding to the circumstance of his amiable widow,
since his death, being distinguished for her acts of cha-
rity and benevolence. 
144             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
habits and inattention had  led  him.  It is probable that
whilst here, Hunter, who prided  himself on his  manual
dexterity, assisted his brother-in-law in his workshop, and
that hence originated  the  statement made  by Foot, that
he had served as a millwright or a  carpenter.  His effort
however, proved unavailing to accomplish  the object of
his visit, and Mr. Buchanan soon after resigned his busi-
ness, and earned a scanty livelihood as a teacher of music,
and clerk to an Episcopalian chapel, at Glasgow.
   During this time Mr. W. Hunter, John's brother, was
rapidly pursuing his way to fame and  fortune.  After re-
ceiving a classical  education at  Glasgow,  and  studying
medicine for  three years as a pupil of Cullen, who was
at that time practising at Hamilton, he resorted to Edin-
burgh, where he spent a winter attending the schools ot
anatomy, and finally settled in London, in 1741.
   Previously to this time, William Hunter's means had
been very limited ; for  though the family  property had
fallen  to him at his  brother  James's death, yet as his
mother continued,  with his permission, to reside on the
estate, the surplus  accruing to him could have been but
small.   In  proof of which,  Mr. Watson,  formerly sur-
geon to the Westminster  Hospital, and one of Mr. Hun-
ter's earliest  pupils,  used to relate, that  as they were
walking home together after the  introductory lecture, the
latter,  who carried a  bag containing seventy  guineas,
which he  had raised for entrance fees, remarked, that
this was a larger sum than  he had ever been  possessed
of.  Simmons gives a similar account of his own slender
beginnings ; and it is related by Sir James Earl, that at
Pott's  death a small box  was found  among his papers,
containing a few pieces of money, not amounting to five
pounds, being the whole which he had received from the
wreck of his father's fortune.  Such anecdotes may serve
to encourage  those who, at the outset of their journey
through life, chance to have  their purses  but slenderly
furnished:  numbers more might be found by a reference 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
145
to the lives of eminent men in all professions, many of
whom, though they have  afterwards  reaped a bountiful
share of the  favours of fortune, were doubtless obliged,
on their first  starting  in  life, to have recourse to shifts
quite as curious  as those of Johnson's Irish friend, who,
in describing how a man may live respectably in London,
on thirty pounds a year, allots ten for the expenses of
clothes, and provides that all visits are to be paid on clean
shirt days.
  William Hunter had many difficulties  to overcome in
establishing his anatomical school; he was the first sur-
geon unconnected with an hospital, who had lectured on
anatomy, and no one attempted it on a scale at all equal
to what he  proposed:  his predecessors had been  accus-
tomed to employ but  one subject for demonstrating all
parts of the body, except the bones  and  arteries, which
were described on preparations, and for exhibiting which
a foetus was usually employed.   Practical  dissection was
unknown to the great bulk of the physicians: added to all
this, a  far greater horror of anatomical pursuits existed
in the public mind at that time than the present.
  W.  Hunter's   address  and  perseverance  at   length
triumphed  over  all these difficulties, and he succeeded
in forming an establishment, which in consequence of the
superior advantages it  afforded, and the unrivalled talent
of its founder, as a lecturer, for  a  long time maintained
its rank as by far the first anatomical school in London.
  John Hunter was now in his twentieth  year, when the
fame of his  brother's success made  him desirous of
entering into the same profession.  He accordingly wrote
to his brother, requesting to be allowed  to join  him in
London, and offering  his services as an  assistant in the
dissecting-room.   His reply was  favourable,  and  con-
tained a kind invitation  to  visit  London.   He  lost no
time in complying with this, and set out for the metropolis.
No long time elapsed  before John's  skill was put to the
trial, in preparing for the  lecture a dissection of the
                        13 
146
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS,
muscles of the arm.  It  is  probable  that  W. Hunter
had  not as yet  formed a very high  estimate  of the
talents of his hitherto idle brother, and little foresaw that
he was ere long to eclipse his preceptor: he  was, how-
ever, so well pleased with  his  pupil's first essay, that he
soon afterwards entrusted  him with the preparation of a
similar part, of which the blood-vessels  were injected.
In this, the young student succeeded so well as to obtain
much praise for his dexterity  from his  brother, who fore-
told that he would soon become a good anatomist, and
promised that he should never want employment   From
this time, therefore, we may consider Hunter as engaged
in the  dissecting-room,  under  the  instruction  of his
brother's assistant Mr. Symonns, where he pursued his
studies with such  zeal and  diligence,  that by the next
season  he  was able to take  the charge of directing his
pupils in their dissections;—thus by his rapid progress,
showing what  may be effected  by great diligence, and
adding another to the examples furnished by Cheselden,
Haller, Albinus, Baillie, Abernethy, and a host of others,
that the surest foundation for future professional eminence
is an early and extensive knowledge of anatomy.
  The summer after he arrived in town, W. Hunter ob-
tained permission for his brother to attend at the Chelsea
Hospital, under Cheselden, of whom, as Hunter's first
master in surgery, and as the  most celebrated  surgeon of
his day, no apology will be necessary for introducing a
short account.  This admirable surgeon was  then more
than  sixty years  of age,  and had retired in  great part
from  the  toils of a  profession in which he  had been
engaged nearly forty years, and in which he had attained
the highest rank.  As a surgeon Cheselden may be truly
said to have enjoyed  the  same repute,  both in England
and on the Continent, which his contemporary and friend
Dr. Mead had acquired as a physician.  He was educated
at St. Thomas's Hospital, under Thomas Feme, a very
able man,  and studied  anatomy under  the  celebrated 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
147
Cowper.   Under this great man Hunter received his first
lessons in  surgery,—a  worthy master for so eminent a
pupil; and he continued to attend regularly at the Chelsea
Hospital, during the summer  months of 1749 and 1750.
Here he would have probably continued for some time,
but in the following year Cheselden was obliged to resign
his situation,  in consequence  of an  attack  of paralysis,
which entirely unfitted him for business.  He repaired to
Bath, in  the hope of amendment, but  in  1752, he was
seized with apoplexy, which put an end to his life, in the
64th year of his age.
   Hunter  now entered to St. Bartholomew's  Hospital,
under  the tuition of the  celebrated surgeon Pott.   In
1753, he  became a gentleman commoner at St. Mary's
Hall, Oxford.  It will appear from the following anecdote
that his  biographer  did not entertain an exalted idea of
Hunter's classical attainments. In speaking to his friend
Sir Anthony  Carlisle, then a student at  the  hospital,
Hunter said, " They wanted  to make an  old woman of
me, or that  I  should stuff  Latin and Greek at  the
University;"  but  added  he,  significantly  pressing  his
thumb-nail on the table, " their  schemes I cracked like
so many fleas as they came before me."
   From  Bartholomew's Hospital  Hunter went to  St.
George's, where he attended during  the summer months,
whilst the winter was devoted to his duties and studies
in the dissecting-room.   With reference to the  peculiar
difficulties with which Hunter had  to compete  in early
life, his  biographer observes: " Various circumstances
combined to render his success in practice  far less rapid
than might have  been anticipated.  Of these, one of the
most obvious was that of the field being already occupied
by several men of great  merit in their profession, and
who, by their writings, had  contributed largely to the
improvement of surgery.   First of these, facili princeps,
stood Pott, in  the  prime of life, and  in the zenith of  his
fame, who, though he had  never received, because he had 
148             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
never solicited, those titles  and posts  of honour,  which
are usually bestowed on the  leaders of our profession, yet
had raised himself by his eminent abilities and industry,
and by his gentlemanly manners, to the highest place in
the esteem of his professional brethren and the public.
  The second  stations were ably filled by  Bromfield, and
Sir Caesar Hawkins, surgeons to St. George's  Hospital;
and  Samuel  Sharp,  and  Warner, of Guy's.   These
divided amongst them  the greater part of the civil prac-
tice, whilst  Adair and Tomkins, from their long con-
nexions with the army, enjoyed the chief share of what
accrued from that quarter.
  The narrowness of his income  was no  doubt also an
obstacle  to  Hunter's success;  for though his  personal
habits were  often very economical, his scientific inquiries
required  more money than he could well afford.  He was
therefore obliged to be content with establishing himself
in the plainest  manner, and living a retired  life; and
though this, no doubt, enabled  him with more freedom
to pursue those important objects in which he was about
to engage,  yet it would not be likely to  conduce to his
speedily increasing his professional connexions.
  It is in this respect, ceteris paribus, a man commencing
with  a moderate share of fortune,  has a decided advan-
tage over the fortuneless; for though it has been truly
said, that " moneys are not the sinews of fortune, but the
sinews and state of men's minds—wit,  courage, audacity,
resolution, temper, industry, and the like," yet,  even he,
who declared  this,  has allotted the  secured  place to
" wealth  and means."
  But besides  these external difficulties, with which most
men have to struggle, in a  greater or less degree, at the
outset of life,  there  were,  in  Hunter's case, some great
impediments arising out of his own character.  He was
deficient  in those refined gentlemanly feelings,  and those
conciliating manners,  which  in all situations  go far to
win the good-will of those with whom  we are in the habit 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
149
of mingling in the daily intercourse of life, and are espe-
cially requisite in the  medical profession.  Conscious  of
great mental superiority, he was too apt to show this in a
rude and overbearing manner towards men, who, in sta-
tion, were his equals, and exhibited somewhat too large a
share of that " pride of port" which  the  poet assigns to
those

    " Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band,
      By form unfashion'd, fresh from nature's hand."

  Consequently, though the  intrinsic excellencies of his
character insured him the friendship of a few, who knew
and estimated his worth, this fault raised up against him
many bitter  enemies,  and prevented  him from ever be-
coming a general favourite witli the profession. It might,
probably, with justice be said,  that of all who have
attained to  the  highest rank  as  surgeons, no  one ever
rose so  entirely by the pure  force of superior talents  as
John Hunter, or  was less indebted than he  was  for his
success to the good-will  and assistance of  his contem-
poraries.
  Hunter had also  a great contempt  for  those minor
tactics,  which constitute so large a part of what has been
aptly termed—the art of rising in the world ; and they
who have carefully watched  the  progress of men  to for-
tune, know full well how  much of their success has often
been due to the judicious  management of these auxiliary
means.   It  would be  egregious  folly to  suppose  that a
man  could  ever  attain to high repute as a  surgeon  in
London, without  possessing a large share of the essential
requisites for the practice of his  profession ; but, on the
other hand,  it requires no great penetration  to  perceive,
that the vast difference  in  the  amount  of  the favours,
vouchsafed by Fortune to her  different votaries, must be
accounted for in  sonic other way, than by the amount of
professional talent possessed  by each.
                         13* 
150
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
  " He that is only real had  need have exceeding great
parts of virtue," says Lord Bacon,  "as the stone  had
need be rich that is set without foil;"  and we need not a
better illustration of the truth of this observation, than is
afforded  by Hunter's tardy progress  in the path of for-
tune, compared  with the rapid strides of others to pro-
fessional eminence, who, in  point of attainments  would
be the  first to acknowledge  themselves but the humble
disciples of this  great master.
  But after all, perhaps, the principal reason why Hunter
was  so long in  obtaining a large share of practice was,
that  he looked not, as most men do, to the acquisition of
wealth as  the end for which he was labouring; but, on
the  contrary, considered money  only as a  means  by
which he might  advance the far  more important objects
he had in  view.  His  powerful  mind was unceasingly
stimulated by an ardent desire to forward the acquisition
of those  branches of knowledge which appeared to him
best  fitted to promote the improvement of his profession.
To this object was devoted every hour that he could spare
from his daily avocations, or snatch from the time allotted
by others to sleep; and to promote this  end, he was always
ready to  sacrifice the claims of worldly prudence and self-
interest
  To witness  an interesting and extraordinary case, he
would  take any trouble, or go almost any distance, with-
out the  chance  of  pecuniary  recompense;  but to  the
daily routine of  practice he always turned unwillingly:
and even when he had acquired a lucrative and extensive
business, he valued it only as affording him the means of
pursuing his favourite studies.   This feeling he  would
often express to his friend  Mr. Lynn, when he called to
see a patient, by  saying, as he  unwillingly laid by  his
dissecting instruments, " Well, Lynn, I must go and earn
this  d----  guinea, or  I shall  be  sure  to want  it  to-
morrow."
  As a means of increasing his income, Hunter deter- 
                PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             151

 mined on delivering  lectures  on anatomy and operative
 surgery, to a private  class.   These  he continued for
 several years; but so far were his  talents  and his en-
 lightened views from  exciting  the attention they merited,
 that his hearers never  amounted to twenty.   Amongst
 them,  however, were numbered, Cline,  Lynn,  Brande,
 Adams, Vaux, and Justamond.  " Dr. Garthshore," says
 our  modern  Democritus, the  late worthy and facetious
 William Wadd, " occasionally looked  in, wound up his
 watch, and fell asleep."
   Hunter's leisure hours were never allowed to remain
 unemployed.   He  returned  to the study of comparative
 anatomy with increased delight; and to  furnish subjects
 for his researches, he  obtained  the refusal of all animals
 which chanced to die  in the Tower, or in those smaller
 zoological collections  which used at that time to peram-
 bulate the country;  and to insure  the good-will of the
 owners, he used to allow them a life-interest in any rare
 animals he was able  to purchase, on condition that their
 carcasses were restored to him after their decease.
   All the money he could spare was devoted  to procuring
 curiosities of  this  sort; and Sir Everard Home used to
 state, that as  soon as  he had accumulated fees to the
 amount of ten guineas,  he always purchased some addi-
 tion  to his collection.   Indeed,  he was not unfrequently
 obliged to  borrow  of his friends, when  his own  funds
 were at a low ebb,  and the temptation  was strong.
 " Pray, George," said  he  one  day to Mr. G.  Nicol, the
 bookseller to the king, with whom he was very intimate,
 " have you got any  money in your pocket ?"  Mr. N.
 replied in the affirmative.  " Have you got five guineas ?
 because, if you have,  and will lend  it me, you shall go
 halves."  "Halves  in what?" inquired his friend.  "Why,
 halves  in a magnificent tiger, which is now dying in
Castle  Street"  Mr. Nicol lent the  money,  and Hunter
purchased the  tiger.
  Hunter'e behaviour was  well adapted  to secure him 
152            PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
the homage of his junior brethren; for he was by no
means backward in encouraging the advances of young
men of talent, who desired to cultivate his acquaintance:
and readily afforded any slight attentions in his power to
those coming to London  to finish their studies, recom-
mending such as had completed their education to situa-
tions in the army, if he found them industrious and intelli-
gent.
  On Mr. Thomas's  arrival in London, he, in company
with Mr. Nicol, by whom he was to be introduced, called
on  Hunter: they  found  him  dressing.  "Well, young
gentleman," said Hunter, when  the first ceremonies of
introduction were over, " so you are come to town to be a
surgeon; and, how long do you intend to stay ?"  " One
year," was the reply.  " Then," said  he, " I'll tell you
what, that won't do; I've  been here a great many years,
and have worked hard, and yet I don't know the princi-
ples of the art."  After some further conversation, Mr. T.
was directed to call again in an hour, which he did, and
accompanied Hunter to the hospital, where he said to him
after the business was over, " Come to me to-morrow morn-
ing, young gentleman, and I will put you further in the way
of things; come early in the morning, as sewn after four
as you can."  It was summer: Mr. Thomas kept the ap-
pointment ; at that early hour Hunter was busily engaged
in dissecting beetles.  Mr. Thomas afterwards  became
his dresser at the hospital, and was finally recommended
by him  as surgeon to  Lord  Macartney's embassy to
China;  on  returning from which  place, he found that
Hunter had died during his absence from England.
   Sir A. Carlisle, whilst a pupil at the  Westminster Hos-
pital, was anxious to become  personally acquainted with
Hunter.   He introduced himself by calling and requesting
his acceptance of a very delicate and well-executed pre-
paration of the internal ear.  Hunter was highly delighted
with it, and detained him to breakfast; and, in the course
of conversation, encouraged him by saying, " Any man 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             153
 who will set about a business, and do it as you have done
 that car, may do any thing he pleases in London."  On
 finding that Mr. Carlisle had not yet attended his lectures.
 as a  reason  for which, lie  assigned  his not being suf-
 ficiently advanced in  professional  knowledge to profit by
 them—" That,  Sir,"  said  Hunter,  " is  very  compli-
 mentary ; but I will give you a perpetual ticket, and shall
 be glad to see  you whenever you will call."  This invita-
 tion was not  neglected; and  Mr. Carlisle's  anatomical
 skill  soon  made  him a favourite with Hunter, to whose
 collection he contributed several valuable preparations.
   Nor did Hunter confine himself to such minor atten-
 tions as these, but occasionally assisted young men whom
 he saw struggling with pecuniary difficulties at the outset
 of their career, by sending them valuable patients; or
 even extended  his kind consideration still further, as the
 following anecdote will show:—
   Mr. Lynn, who  was for many years on  intimate terms
 with  Hunter, suffered a long illness, in consequence of
 having wounded his hand in opening the body of a man
 who had died from a syphilitic affection.  Hunter fre-
 quently called to see him; and, one day, after expressing
 regret at his misfortune, and the obstruction it caused to
 his business, offered to lend him £200; adding, that though
 he was the last man in the world to be able to do such a
 thing, yet he would stretch a point, in consequence of the
 esteem he had for Mr. Lynn.  His friend had been  more
 prudent,  however, than Hunter supposed, and did not then
 require his  assistance,  but  said,  that,  should he  have
 occasion  for it,  he would not fail to apply to him.  " Nay,"
 said Hunter,  "  what I offer, I  will do now; but, what I
 may be able to  do a week hence, it is impossible  for me
to say."  On his recovery, Mr. Lynn thanked him for his
 kindness. Hunter had forgotten the circumstance ; "But,"
said  he,  "if I did say  so, you may depend upon it I
meant what I said."
  Dr. Denman  used to say that William Hunter was a 
154
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
man of order, and John Hunter a man of genius; and, in
truth, with all his cleverness, which was more than ordi-
nary, the doctor always felt John's superiority.   " In this
I am only my brother's interpreter,—I  am simply  the
demonstrator of this discovery; it was my brother's,"—
were his constant expressions.
  Hunter  was a philosopher in more senses than one; he
had philosophy enough to bear prosperity as well as  ad-
versity ; and with a rough exterior, was a very kind man.
The poor could command his services more than the rich.
He would see an industrious  tradesman before a  duke,
when his  house was  full of grandees.  " You have no
time to spare," he would say, "you live by it; most of
these  can wait, they  have  nothing to do  when they go
home." No man cared less for the profits of the profes-
sion,  or more for the honour of it.  He cared not for
money himself, and wished his brother to estimate it by
the same scale, when he sent a poor man with this laconic
note:—

" Dear Brother,
  " The bearer wants your advice.  I do  not know the
nature of the case.   He has no money, and  you have
plenty, so  you are well met.
                             " Yours,
               i                      "J. Hpnter."

  He was once applied to to perform a serious  operation
on a tradesman's  wife ; the fee  agreed upon was twenty
guineas.  He heard no more of the case for two months;
at the end of which time he was called upon to perform
it  In the  course of his  attendance, he found ont the
cause of the delay had been the difficulty under which the
patient's husband had laboured to raise the money  ; and,
that they were worthy people, who h:id been unfortunate,
and were by no  means able to support  the expense of
such an affliction.  " I sent back to the husband nineteen 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             155
guineas,  and kept the twentieth,"  said  he, "that they
might not be hurt with the idea of too great obligation.
It somewhat more than  paid  me for the expense I had
been at in the business."
  Hunter held the operative part of surgery, in the lowest
estimation.  " To perform an operation," said  he, " is
to mutilate  a patient whom  we are  unable to cure; it
should, therefore, be considered as an acknowledgment of
the imperfection of our art"
  With what proud feelings he must  have contemplated
the improved treatment of the  popliteal  aneurism, when
success justified the high conceptions he had formed of it.
  Mr,  Hunter, who did more  than  any human being to
lessen  the frequency of operations, once had a  patient
whose  leg he considered it necessary to remove.  He was
a most anxious man  about an operation;  which, in those
days, was attended  almost with the formality of an ex-
ecution.  He had got on his dress, and a profound silence
reigned in the theatre.  The surgery-man was ordered to
bring in the patient who was  to have his leg taken off.
The surgery-man disappeared; in two  minutes he re-
turned, with a  face as long as the  leg, solus—" Why do
you not bring in the  patient ?" was demanded of the ex-
pectant operator.  «' Because, sir," said the astonished
surgery.man, " because, sir, he has run away."
  The following are the particulars  of the melancholy
circumstances  connected with the death of this great
surgeon and physiologist:—
   In 1792 a contest  took plack at St. George's Hospital,
owing to the resignation of Hawkins, between Mr. Keate
and the late Sir  Everard Home.  The latter, of course,
was supported by Hunter; whilst all the remaining medi-
cal officers, with the exception of  Dr. Baillie, lent their
interests to his  opponent.  Keate was eventually elected.
Owing to this result, Hunter announced to them his inten-
tion to discontinue the practice of dividing equally among
the surgeons the admission fees of all the pupils attending
the hospital. 
156
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
  This measure his colleagues  resolved to resist; and a
special meeting of the governors was summoned, to take
the matter into consideration.  After hearing  Hunter's
statement, and that of his opponents, the decision of the
meeting was given against him.  A committee was sub-
sequently appointed to draw up a code of rules  for regu-
lating the admission and instruction of pupils:  and a set
of proposals was  submitted  to  Mr. Hunter's colleagues,
and agreed to without his  having been consulted on the
occasion.
  Among the regulations was one which determined, for
the future, that no person should be admitted as a student
to the hospital without bringing certificates that he had
been educated to the profession; a regulation which was
probably designed to exclude Mr.  Hunter's  countrymen,
who sometimes came  to town recommended to him, and
entered as his pupils at the  hospital without having had
any previous education.  Nor  was this long in taking
effect: for in the autumn two young men, who had come
up to town ignorant  of this new regulation, applied to
Hunter to be  admitted  under him at the hospital.  He
informed them of the law  which had been passed, but
undertook to press for their  admission at the next board-
day, and directed them to furnish him with a statement
of their  case in  writing.  On  the  16th of October the
board  was to meet, and  Hunter  prepared  to fulfil his
promise, though he was so well aware  of the risk he in-
curred, in undertaking a task which he felt would agitate
him, that in mentioning the  circumstance to a friend who
called  on him in the morning, he expressed his appre-
hension lest some unpleasant dispute  might occur, and
his consideration that if it  did it would certainly prove
fatal to him.   At his accustomed hour he left his house to
commence his morning rounds, and by accident forgot to
take with him his list of appointments; he had left the
house  but a few moments when it was discovered, and
Mr. Clift, who was then residing with Hunter, hastened 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
157
with it to York Street, St. James's, the  first place on  the
list, where he found tho carriage waiting.  Hunter soon
made his appearance, took the list, and  in an animated
tone called to  the coachman  to  drive to  St. George's.
Arrived at the hospital, he  found  the  board  already
assembled,  and entering the  room,  he  presented  the
memorial of the young  men, and proceeded to urge  the
propriety of their being  admitted.  In the course of his
remarks, he made some observation which one of his  col-
leagues thought it necessary instantly and flatly to con-
tradict. Hunter  immediately ceased  speaking, retired
from the table,  and struggling  to suppress the tumult of
his passion, hurried into an adjoining room, which he  had
scarcely reached, when, with a deep groan, he fell lifeless
into the arms of Dr. Robertson, one of the  physicians of
the hospital, who chanced to be present.  Dr. Baillie  had
immediately followed him from the board-room,  and  Mr.
Home, who was in the house, was  also summoned to his
assistance.   Various attempts were made for upwards of
an  hour to restore  animation, under the hope that  the
attack might prove only a fainting fit, such as he had be-
fore experienced, but in vain: life had fled;  and  all their
efforts proving  useless, his body was  placed in  a sedan
chair and conveyed to Leicester Square,  followed by his
now vacant carriage.  Thus perished the  illustrious John
Hunter, in  the  sixty-fifth year of  his age, celebrated as
the first anatomist, physiologist, and surgeon of his day;
a man whose labours, in human and comparative anatomy,
throw completely into the shade all who preceded or have
followed him!
  The following epitaph was  composed  in  1804 by  his
wife, with the design of having it executed on the marble
tablet to be placed over the remains of her late husband
in St. Martin's  church.

    Here rests in awful silence, cold and still,
       One whom no common  sparks of genius fired;
                          14 
158
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
    Whose reach of thought nature alone could fill,
      Whose deep research to love of truth inspired.

    Hunter !  if years of toil and watchful care,
      If the vast labours of a  powerful mind
    To soothe the ills humanity must share,
      Deserve the  grateful plaudits of mankind,

    Then be each human weakness buried here,
    Envy would raise to dim  a name so bright:
    Those specks which in the orb of day appear,
    Take nothing from his warm and welcome light.
                                    Anne Hunter.

  Doctor Armstrong was born on the 8th of May, 1784,
at Ayres Quay, in the parish of Bishopwearmouth, in the
county of Durham. His parents were of humble origin.
His father,  Mr. George  Armstrong, was an husbandman.
Dr. Armstrong at  the  age of eight years was placed
under the care of the Rev. Mr. Mason, a minister of the
united secession church of Scotland, who kept a small
school in Queen Street.  At  the age  of sixteen he was
placed with Mr. Watson, a surgeon-apothecary at Monk-
wearmouth, on trial; but not  liking  his  situation, he left
it, and returned home.  Armstrong having shown that he
was in possession of superior abilities and taste for litera.
ture, it was determined  that he should be sent to Edin-
burgh to study medicine; and accordingly, at the age of
nineteen he entered as a medical student in the University
of Edinburgh, where he resided three years.
  On the 5th of May, 1807, he passed his examination at
the Edinburgh Royal College  of Surgeons;  and in June,
in the same year, he took his  degree of Doctor of Medi-
cine,  having  written a thesis,  "De Causis  Morborum
Hydropicorum,   Rationeque  iis  Medendi."  Armstrong
subsequently  commenced practice in Sunderland, where
he remained some  years.  During the time of Dr. Arm- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
159
strong's residence  in  Edinburgh, he formed an intimacy
with a young gentleman of Sunderland, who had resorted
to Edinburgh for general  education.  The father of this
gentleman had laboured for a period of nearly two years
under an  occasional, and  what had been considered an
anomalous attack of diarrhoea, which had resisted all the
skill of his medical advisers.  On Dr. Armstrong's settling
at Bishopwearmouth, this person, who was affluent and
much  esteemed in the town, was earnestly solicited to
consult the young  physician, in whose talents the son had
expressed an implicit confidence.   After some  persuasion
Dr. Armstrong was called in; and conceiving from the
history of the case that it was one of overloaded bowels,
and that the occasional diarrhoea was the effect of an irri-
tation thus established, and an effort of nature to throw off
the offending cause, he advised a mild course of laxatives
to be steadily persevered in, until the  motions  were of a
natural character.  His advice was followed.   In a day
or two Dr. Hamilton, the author of the celebrated work on
Purgative  Medicines, and with whom Dr. A. had formed
an intimacy at Edinburgh, stopped at Sunderland on his
way to England, and Dr. Armstrong hearing of his arrival
waited on him to explain his case, earnestly soliciting
him to see the patient.  Dr. Hamilton firmly resisted the
proposal, and gave as his reason, that the practice recom-
mended was undoubtedly correct, and that the  issue of it
would  be  fortunate.  " It will gain you credit," said he ;
" but if I am consulted, the recovery will be attributed to
my counsel and longer experience, when all the merit in
reality will be due to  your  own sagacity.   You  have
ascertained the cause, and you see its effects, and  have
only to wait the sure operation of the only means of re-
lief that can be recommended under the existing circum-
stances.  Take the advice of an old man, and  avoid con-
sultations  in all  cases where  you feel  satisfied that you
understand the nature of a malady, and this at once sug-
gests a simple and effectual remedy." 
160             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
  Dr. Boot observes, that in a short  time  the patient was
restored to health.   He was in the habit  of riding about
the town on his pony, and was so sensible of the relief
which he had obtained, that the praises of Dr. Armstrong
were  ever on his tongue ; and the  recommendations  of
this gentleman alone established Armstrong in a practice,
at once, of about 2002. a year.
  In  January,  1811, he was elected  physician  to the
Sunderland Dispensary.  Soon after this  appeared in the
Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, then edited by
Dr. Duncan, Armstrong's first publication,  on  "Brain
Fever caused by Intoxication."  He also contributed  to
the same Journal a paper on " Diseased  Vertebrae," and
published his treatise on puerperal fever.  On the subject
of this disease his notions were peculiar.  He considered
it in  the first stage essentially inflammatory, and to be
marked by highly typhoid symptoms in the second stage.
The favourable reception which this work  on puerperal
fever  met  with, encouraged him  to extend  his views
farther, and in  1816 his celebrated work on typhus ap-
peared.   This admirable work  at once raised him  to a
very high eminence in his profession.  It passed through
three  large  editions in three years,  and was received
almost with acclamation by the medical  public, not only
in this country, but in America, where  it obtained for
him, from some of the most eminent professional men,
the name of the "modern Sydenham."
  From  a  lowly origin, and what  would generally be
considered a very bumble education, Dr. Armstrong had at.
tained to an enviable pre-eminence  in the profession he
had chosen; and by a sagacious observation of the  phe-
nomena of disease, had educated himself to a degree  of
knowledge which no existing institution, with all its pro.
mise of literature  or science, could  have  bestowed upon
him.  He had appealed from human testimony on the
subject of fever to  the  operations of nature; and from a
patient observation  of her laws had acquired some per- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
161
ccption of the principles which regulated them, by which
he had  created within himself the  power of instructing
others  in the truths  he had discovered, and of reflect-
ing abroad  the light  which had  dawned  upon his own
mind. From an unpromising station in society, in which
he had  first doubtingly aspired  to the confidence and
support  of the public,  unsupported  by affluent  family
connexions, and unaided  by those  powerful friendships
which many men of humble origin form with their supe-
riors in rank  and fortune, at the large English schools
and  universities, he had raised himself, by  the buoyant
energies of his own mind, to a  high intellectual rank of
life, which not only conferred dignity upon himself, but
reflected honour on those who  had gone down  with un-
conscious distinction to the grave.*
  In 1818, Dr. Armstrong,  depending upon  the reputa-
tion  which  his works had  afforded him,  determined to
come to London.   This hazardous step,  however, was
not hastily  taken.  He took lodgings  at No. 38, Great
James  Street, Bedford  Row, where he resided several
months  alone.  "This," says his biographer, "was the
most trying period of his life.  All those domestic sym-
pathies  upon which he  so much depended for happiness
were far removed from him, and he felt, as it were, alone
in the  world; anxious about his present, and uncertain
of his future fortunes.  He never, to the close of his life,
courted  general society, and had few inducements to mix
in public amusements; for his taste centred  in his pro-
fessional pursuits, and his enjoyments in the bosom of
his family, and in' the familiar  society of  a few personal
friends.  His sensibilities were acute, and his mind simple
and discerning in its instincts and desires.   He had left
a society to which he was attached by the ties of grati-
tude, and in the oppressive solitude of his present  situa-
  * See  Dr. Boot's  " Life  and Opinions of  Dr.  Arm-
strong."
                         14* 
162             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
tion, he keenly  felt  the loss  of his  early  friends, and
became fully sensible of the hazard to which he had ex-
posed the interests of his family.  He has often told me,
that the loneliness of his situation at  times  overpowered
him;  and that so oppressive was the  busy scene around
him, in which he stood a stranger, uncared for and un-
known, that he sometimes found relief in tears, and tried
to drown  the consciousness of sorrow, by seeking sleep
in his darkened chamber at noon."
  A short time after his arrival  in London, he  published
a work on " Scarlet Fever, Measles, Consumption," &c,
which attracted considerable attention.
  In  the  spring of 1818, Dr. Armstrong presented him-
self for examination at the  London College of Physicians.
He had, says Dr. Boot, perhaps undervalued the estimate
which the Board of Examiners  place on classical educa-
tion, and the alphabets of the  profession ; for this distin-
guished physician, who had received  a diploma from the
most efficient, and most celebrated school of medicine in
Great Britain,—who had been in successful practice eleven
years,—and was the author of three  of the most popu-
lar works which the medical press of this  country had
ever put forth, the fame  of which was still  sounding in
the periodical journals of the  day,—was rejected  as in-
competent to continue in the practice  of his  profession in
London, and undeserving the honour of having his name
enrolled among the members of the college.
  This rejection, it is said, preyed much upon Dr. Arm-
strong's mind.   Soon after this event, he was elected, in
conjunction with the late Dr. Cleverly, physician  to the
London Fever Hospital, on the occasion of the retirement
of Dr.  Batcman from the practice of that institution.  On
his election being made known  to him, he, on  his  intro-
duction to the trustees, expressed his grateful sense of
their kindness, but, at the  same time, regretted he could
not avail himself of it, as their  laws  required  that their
physician should be  a Fellow, or Licentiate, of the Col- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             163
lege of Physicians.  The  trustees,  having been  made
acquainted with the fact, that Dr. Armstrong had pre-
sented himself for examination and been rejected at the
College, immediately—so high a sense did they entertain
of his medical skill—suspended the by-law, and Dr. Arm-
strong at once entered upon the duties of the  important
office thus honourably conferred upon him.
   In 1821, Dr. Armstrong commenced  lecturing on the
Practice of Medicine,  in conjunction with  Mr. Granger,
who lectured  on Anatomy, in Webb Street, Maze  Pond.
The effect his lecture produced was electric. The energy
of his manner—the fine  intonations of his voice—the
facility and correctness of his diction—the strain of im-
passioned eloquence which often burst from him, riveted
the attention, and made even those who  could not en-
tirely adopt or appreciate his opinions, sensible that  he
was uttering the deep convictions of his  mind; and there
was so much of chaste,  and often  pathetic feeling, so
much  of the  refined  sensibilities  of his nature blended
with  his discourse, that  those who were  compelled  to
admire his  talents, felt confidence in  his virtue; and,
while they revered the  Professor, they loved the man.*
  An anecdote, connected with the period of his greatest
difficulties in the year  1820, when his funds were nearly
exhausted, is too honourable  to himself, and to the late
Mrs. Oliphant, of Gash, in  Scotland, to  be omitted.  Dr.
Armstrong had naturally been  led to take  an  unfavour-
able view  of his prospects, from  the  prejudices excited
against him by the conduct of the  College of Physicians,
and from an experience of the unavoidable expense at-
tending a physician's opening career in London, which
appeared the more formidable to him from the injury that
he imagined had been done to his  reputation.  His mind
was at one time so much a prey to anxiety, that he en-
tertained serious thoughts of removing from town.  This
* Dr. Boot. 
164            PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

idea was communicated to Mrs. Oliphant, in whose family
he had practised for several years, and to whom his worth
was fully known.  She immediately remonstrated against
it.  With a delicacy, which added to the extent of her
kindness, she advised him to set up his carriage, and  in-
sisted that he should draw upon her banker for  any sum
he might require, till his  income  should  prove equal to
his wants.  This noble act of devotion to a pure and ex-
alted friendship, was  honoured as it deserved to be, for
Dr. Armstrong  availed himself of the liberal offer, and
the fruits of this beautiful instance of mutual confidence,
were to remove  at once the apprehensions  he laboured
under, and to fortify his mind with a confiding hope of
ultimate  success.   He never spoke of this disinterested
act of friendship without  emotion, and he  always attri-
buted his subsequent prosperity to it, as it reconciled him
to difficulties he had  to encounter, and  enabled him to
employ his mind, unfettered by anxiety, to the discharge
of the responsible duties of his situation, as Physician to
the Fever Hospital.
   It was only a year before  Dr.  Armstrong's death that
he exhibited unequivocal symptoms of the disease which
he so much dreaded, viz., consumption.  In October, 182S,
he left off lecturing, and removed for  a short time to
Seven Oaks, in  Kent, thinking that  relaxation from pro-
fessional duties, and change of air and  scene, might re-
 novate his health.   He subsequently returned to town to
attend  the anniversary  dinner  of the Webb Street Stu-
 dents, held in Freemason's Tavern.  A recurrence of his
 indisposition compelled him, however, to leave town again
 in May.
   He returned  on the 17th of October, but very little im-
 proved in health.   It was now evident that his strength
 was  gradually  declining.  A few months'  residence in
 the country had evidently brought about a change for the
 better.  On the 8th of October he visited Durham for the
 purpose of seeing his friends and relations in that quar- 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             165
 ter.  It was during his stay at this place that he received
 this  melancholy account of his youngest child's  death:
 and, on the 1st of November, he returned, says Dr. Boot,
 to London, " broken in spirit, and fast fading away."  He
 did not leave his bed after the 1st of December.  On the
 3d he told Dr. Boot that he might live ten days.  On the
 7th he was visited  by Dr. Thomas Davis and Mr. Lang.
 staff, and underwent an examination with the stethoscope.
 Dr. Davis was of opinion that a  large cavity had formed
 in the upper lobe of the left lung, with their anterior  pa-
 rietes adhering to  the  ribs.   The  extreme accuracy of
 this diagnosis, unhappily, was soon  verified. He rapidly
 became worse, and was  observed to be extremely restless
 and uneasy about eight o'clock on Saturday evening, the
 12th  of October.  Soon afterwards, however, he became
 more comfortable, and had fallen into an apparent slum-
 ber.  When he awoke he seemed to take no notice of any
 thing around him, lying  perfectly still, with his eyes  ge-
 nerally closed.  At brief intervals he spoke—exclusively
 of his wife and profession.  He used the  tenderest epi-
 thets in speaking of the former, and, once, after a brief
 pause, said, as if advising a patient, " It is not amaurosis;
 the pupil of that eye is as regular as the other!"  Again,
 he said, " Live by strict rule ;  do not eat too much; these
 conditions form rapidly, and must be prevented.  Purge
 them freely."  About twenty minutes after eleven o'clock,
 he looked up, and, seeing Dr.  Boot by his side, he faintly
 said, " Turn me, Boot."   " I got upon his bed," says  his
 biographer, " and did so."   He  said, " More forward !"
 " I raised him again, and placed  his head more forward.
 I  asked him if he was easy."—" Yes!" he feebly  an-
 swered, " Bless you."  He did not move after this, but
lay still and silent  until a quarter  to twelve, " when,
without a struggle, or apparent  suffering, he ceased to
breathe."*   Thus terminated  the brief but brilliant ca-
  * In a previous part of this  work, we  have recorded
several instances in which the " ruling passion strong in 
166             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

reer  of Dr. Armstrong!  Had it  pleased  Providence to
have preserved his life, we have no doubt he would have
death" has been remarkably displayed.   A few more il-
lustrations occur to our mind.  Curran's ruling passion
was his joke.  In his last ilrhess, his physician observing,
in the morning, that he  seemed to cough with more diffi-
culty, he answered, " That is rather surprising, as I have
been practising  all  night."  The  French Princess  de
Charolais, although in the agonies of death, for some time
refused the entreaties of her  confessor to take off her
rouge; at last  she consented, " But, in this  case," said
she to  the attendant woman, " give me  some other  rib-
bons ; you know that, without rouge, yellow ribbons look
frightful  upon me."  The  last  words of Mrs.  Oldfield
were, " One would hot look a fright after one's  death;"
or, according to Pope,

   " One would not surely look ugly when one's dead,
   Pray—Betty!—Give these cheeks a little red!"

   Alonzo Carro, a celebrated Spanish artist, refused to
look at the crucifix, when the  priest presented it to him
in his dying moments, because the sculpture was so badly
executed.  He  asked  for  a plain cross,  which  being
brought to him, he devoutly embraced, and expired.
   The  Duke de Crillon  was at Avignon at  the period
when the Duke of Ormond died there; and,  having en-
tered his chamber at the very moment  when the latter
was dying, he had nearly been a witness to a  very re-
markable scene  which had just taken  place between the
expiring  nobleman, who was a true pattern of politeness,
and a German baron, also one of the most polite men in
the country.  The Duke, feeling liimself dying, desired
to be conveyed in  his arm-chair, when, turning towards
the baron, " Excuse me, Sir," said he, " if I should make
some grimaces in  your  presence, for  my physician tells 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
167
placed himself in a most exalted position, both as a suc-
cessful practitioner, and as a medical philosopher.
  Considering the difficulties with which he had to con-
tend, and the opposition and mortifications  to which he
was exposed, it is a matter of surprise to us  that he was
able to achieve  as much as he did.
  We have, in the life of Dr. Thomas Brown, the founder
of the celebrated " Brunonian  System," another illustra-
tion of the difficulties with  which a man, who obtained
great eminence, had to compete in early life.   Dr. Brown's
parents  were extremely humble.  His  father was sup-
posed to have been a day-labourer.  They were people of
great honesty and worth,  and  being seceders, their sole
ambition was to bestow upon their son a decent and reli-
gious education.  In this respect, it can hardly be sup-
posed, that, in their contracted  circumstances, they were
me that I am  at  the  point  of death."—" Ah, my Lord
Duke !"  replied the baron, " I beg you will not put your-
self under any  restraint on my account."  The study of
grammar was  the  great  passion  of the Abbe Dangeau.
On being seized with a fit of illness, and being told that
he must  be prepared for death, he said, " Whatever hap-
pens, I  am extremely rejoiced that  I  have, in my port-
folio, at least thirty-six conjugations perfectly completed."
Garci Sanchez  de Badajoz, when he was at the point of
death, desired that he might  be dressed  in the habit of
St.  Francis;  this  was accordingly done:  and, over the
Franciscan frock, they put on  his habit of Santiago, for
he was a knight of that order.  It was a point of devo-
tion with him to wear  the one dress, and a point of ho-
nour to wear  the  other;  but, looking at himself in this
double attire, he said to those who surrounded his death-
bed, " The Lord will say to  me, presently,  * My friend
Garci Sanchez,  you come very well wrapt up!' (muy ar-
rapado)—and I shall reply,' Lord, it is no wonder, for it
was winter when I set off.' " 
168             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

actuated by the expectation of his afterwards attaining a
rank superior to that of a common  mechanic.  It was a
frequent expression of his father's, as his son  used  often
afterwards to  relate,  " That he would gird his belt the
tighter, to give hi3 son John a good education."
  On account  of the uncommon quickness of apprehen-
sion which he  displayed  at a time  when  other  children
are scarcely out  of their leading-strings, he was sent to
school,  to learn  English much sooner than the usual
period.   Here, under the tuition of an old country school-
mistress, in a  very short time he made such rapid pro-
gress, that before the fifth year of his age, he had read
almost all through the whole of the Old Testament.
  The  astonishing progress, in the  reading  of English,
which at this  time he had made, together with  the ex-
treme avidity with which he perused every new book, in-
duced his parents  to put him  to  the grammar-school of
Dundee, to receive  instructions in the rudiments of the
Latin  language.  Soon  after  this  he lost  his father.
During the confusion and distress which this event occa-
sioned at home, he had been removed for a few days to  a
friend's house.   On returning home, after he had for some
time looked around for  his father, he  asked  his mother
" Where he was gone ?"  to which, with tears in her eyes,
she replied, " That  he was gone to heaven."   The child,
not being satisfied  with his mother's answer, after putting
a variety of questions to her concerning the situation and
other particulars of that place, at  length, unperceived by
her, left the house; and  having wandered very disconso.
lately a considerable way from home, his progress was at
length interrupted  by the river  Tweed.   Here, sitting
down on the bank, he began to weep, and was found in
this situation by a  neighbour  and friend of his parents,
who, surprised to find him so far from home, asked him
the reason of it.  The child innocently replied, " That he
was going to heaven to seek his father."   Upon this the
countryman, kindly taking him by the hand, and leading 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             169
 him back to his mother, soothed him by assuring him,
 " That he would become a father to him."
   His mother married again.  Much to young Brown's
 credit, the means of his education were raised by his own
 industry, and he became a reaper of corn to procure for
 himself the means of improvement.  With the price of
 such labour he  put himself to school, where he greatly
 distinguished himself by making advances in intellectual
 eminence, perhaps not paralleled in the biography of any
 other individual.  From this school he was removed, and
 bound to a weaver.  How long he remained in this hum-
 ble situation is not known; it must, however, have been
 but  a  very short time, as the  constant aversion he ex-
 pressed to his occupation could not have failed to prevail
 with his parents, who had a most tender regard for him,
 to relinquish the idea of rearing him to a business to
 which he  evinced  so rooted a dislike.   His old master
 offered to educate him gratuitously; and he accordingly
 returned to school with a view of entering the ministry.
  When Dr. Brown had completed  his thirteenth year,
 Mr. Cruikshank having waited on his parents, informed
 them, " That he could teach John nothing more, since he
 already knew as much as himself."
  After leaving  school he  obtained  the situation of pri-
 vate tutor in a Scotch family, where he was  treated with
 great disrespect.  The immediate cause of his separation
 from this family was as follows:—A number of neigh-
 bouring lairds, being equivalent in most respects to what
 are called in  England  country squires, had  been invited
 to dine with the family on  a particular  occasion.  John
 Brown, as usual, was present at the table, but was allowed
 to retire to his own apartment immediately after dinner,
 without an invitation to  remain.  After the wine had
 been consumed,  a discussion arose on the  " Decrees of
 Providence."   After a great deal of noisy  and  unprofi-
table altercation  on both sides, it was at  length resolved
upon, that the disputed point should be referred to John
                        15 
170
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
Brown.  A verbal message was  accordingly sent to him
from the head of the family, stating  the  matter, and de-
siring his opinion.  His temper being extremely irritable,
in consequence of the contumelious treatment he had ex-
perienced that evening, instead of replying directly to
the point, he  returned for  answer, " That the decrees of
Providence were very unjust which so often made block-
heads lairds."
  After leaving this situation, Brown was recommended
to a friend, then studying medieine, as a  person well
qualified to translate into  Latin, an inaugural disserta-
tion, which was about to be presented by the candidate to
one of the  professors.  Brown  undertook the task, and
executed it in a manner far superior to the usual style of
such compositions, and in a much  shorter time than had
been required.  On being  informed by them how far he
had exceeded their  expectations, he  observed, " That he
had now discovered his strength, and was  ambitious to
ride in  his carriage as a physician."  He consequently
left Divinity Hall, and commenced the study of medicine.
Having no means of paying the fees to the medical pro-
fessors, he addressed an elegantly composed Latin letter,
first to the celebrated  Dr. Alexander  Monro, professor of
Anatomy;  and, in consequence of his success in this ap-
plication, to the other professors, all  of whom presented
him with tickets of admission to their several classes.
  During his studies he supported himself by teaching
languages; and after he had been engaged three years
in his medical pursuits, he commenced the occupation of
private  teaching, or grinding as  it  is familiarly called,
viz., preparing young men for their  medical and Latin
examinations.
  During his sojourn at Edinburgh, Brown became very
intimate with Dr. Cullen,  who  subsequently made him
his private  secretary.   Brown was of material assistance
to Cullen in enabling him  to carry on his very extensive
correspondence in  Latin  with the various  literary  and 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
171
 philosophical societies of Europe with which Cullen was
 connected.  In the course of a few  years a breach  of
 friendship took place  between Cullen and Brown, in con-
 sequence of the latter having refused to advocate Cullen's
 peculiar views, in  his Elementa Medicina, and the  oppo-
 sition that he raised when he applied for admission into
 the society which  published the Edinburgh essays.
   Brown  procured his  diploma at the University of St.
 Andrew's on the 21st of September, 1779.  The friends
 who accompanied him from Edinburgh, and several  of
 the professors, after his first examination, dined  together
 at the inn.   It remained for him to compose two  short
 Latin papers, the  one an aphorism of Hippocrates, the
 other the description and treatment of a disease.
  While the company were after dinner engaged at their
 bottle, he  begged  permission to retire to a side-table to
 execute his  remaining task, which  cost  him  so  little
 trouble, that, while he  was engaged in writing, one  of
 the party, who was regaling the rest with a song, having
 mistaken  the tune, he  stopped to put  him right,  and
 shortly after joined the company, with his task  finished,
 which, to  use the words of one of the professors, " omni.
 bus mirabiliter satisfecit."
  After his return to Edinburgh, a rancorous  warfare
 took  place between Brown  and the medical professors
 and  practitioners of Edinburgh.  In order to prejudice
 the public mind against him, his opponents industriously
 spread a report that the " Brunonian doctrine" consisted
 in curing all diseases with brandy and laudanum, and
 his practice  was consequently much injured.
  Instead of entering  the  lists with Dr. Brown  upon
equal terms, and face to face, and leaving the  issue to
the impartial decision of the public, the  opposers of the
new system had recourse  to secret arts, by which  they
thought the more effectually to withdraw from the founder
his  disciples, and bring discredit upon the doctrine.   A
medical tribunal of so severe a kind was established, that 
172           PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
 it only seemed to want the power of imprisonment to en-
 title  it to rank on a footing with the Inquisition itself.
 The  followers of  Dr.  Brown  were marked out, and, at
 their private examinations, were, to their sad experience,
 taught their dependence on the professors, and the respect
 due to their opinions.  In their inaugural dissertations,
 any allusion to the work, or quotation from it, was abso-
 lutely prohibited.   Had  a candidate  been so  bold as to
 affirm that opium  acted as a stimulant, and denied  that
 its primary action was sedative, he would  have  been re-
 jected.  Notwithstanding the opposition with which Brown
 had to combat, he  was elected twice to the office of  Pre-
 sident of the Royal Medical Society, and  retained suffi-
 cient influence to institute  the masonic lodge  of the
 Roman Eagle, over which he presided as master.   All
 these honours did not, however, succeed in removing the
 prejudice which the public had been induced to imbibe
 against Brown's peculiar notions;  and his practice de-
 creased so  rapidly that  he was involved in  pecuniary
 difficulties,  and being  committed to prison for  debt, he
 was obliged for a time  to continue his course of  lectures,
 in which  he was then engaged, in the place of his  con-
 finement.  In this forlorn situation, a note, to the value
 of 1002., was secretly conveyed to him from an unknown
 person.  This  truly benevolent and beautiful action  was
 afterwards,  with difficulty, traced to the  late  generous
 and patriotic Lord Gardenstone.
   After having been subjected to much persecution in
' Edinburgh, Dr. Brown determined to  leave the modern
 Athens, and  try his fortune  in London.  His  son, in
 speaking of this movement, says, " The precariousness of
 such  an undertaking, and the distress which  would in-
 evitably result from its failure, must have had  a  sensible
 effect upon  most people, however sanguine ; but the edi-
 tor, young as he was, remembers nothing better,  than the
 air of serenity and  satisfaction which sat upon his father's
 countenance during the journey."   Dr. Brown met with 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             173
much kindness and attention, on his way to London, from
his old pupils and friends.  He had entered upon his fifty-
first year when he arrived in the great metropolis.  His
reception  there  was  at first flattering  and  promising.
His house, in Golden Square, was the perpetual resort of
the literary and ingenious of the day.  He had been led
by his friends to expect, immediately upon his arrival in
London, an instant introduction to practice; but he found
that  his friends  had been too sanguine.   Patients came
very slowly, and he was compelled, in order to support
himself, to deliver lectures at the Devil's Tavern; but he
did not succeed in obtaining sufficient to liquidate his
debts, and he was consequently thrown into  the  King's
Bench Prison.  A short time before this event, a report
had been circulated that the king of Prussia had  invited
him to Berlin to succeed Dr. Baylcy, his own  physician,
who had recently died.  Count Lusi, the Prussian ambas-
sador sent his secretary to Brown to know " whether he
was  the  physician whom his master wanted."  Brown
had an interview with Count Lusi, who stated that the
king had written to him to " find out Dr. Brown, an emi-
nent physician," and ascertain if he was desirous of set-
tling  in  his  dominions, and if  so,  to send him to  him.
Dr. Brown felt much flattered by the request;  and at the
suggestion of the ambassador  and his  friends,  lie  for-
warded to the king a copy of all his works, and a letter
written in the Latin language.  As soon as this news
was spread abroad, an apothecary of the name of Brown,
living in Wales, set off for Berlin.   This man, it appears,
had been on  intimate terms with a lady of rank and  in-
trigue, nearly related to a former British  ambassador at
Berlin, and having great  interest at the Prussian court,
it is supposed she recommended the apothecary to  pass
for the Dr. Brown, with whom the  ambassador had  been
in communication.
   He was recommended  by his friends  to write to the
king to undeceive his majesty;  but he was fearful of the
                          15* 
174             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

consequences, imagining that a double intrigue had been
going on against him, and so he dropped the matter alto-
gether.  Owing  to  the  interference of his old  enemy,
Cullen, he lost, soon afterwards, the professorship of me-
dicine in the University of Padua.
  A lady, the wife of an old pupil, had advanced Brown
1002. to purchase furniture for his house:  some time
afterwards she took  a disgust to all her husband's friends,
and demanded of Dr. Brown the repayment of the money
she had advanced; and as he was unable to comply with
the request, he was arrested, and thrown into the King's
Bench.  It was  during  the time  he was under arrest,
that his bookseller,  Murray, applied to him, and  offered
him a  sum of money if he would allow him to sell  a
nostrum in his name. Brown rejected the proposal with
disdain.  Another party, with the approbation of Murray,
made  a similar  application to him; in fact, his friend,
Dr. G. Stewart,  said, " that Brown must make  a pill,"
and told  him that he might get 10,0002. for  the receipt.
At last he was compelled  to listen to the proposal; but on
coming to terms, he found that the plan was by every
worthless artifice, to get  him so far involved in  his  cir-
cumstances, that he  should either be obliged to starve in
prison, or compromise his honour.  Their knavish tricks
were,  however,  fortunately for the reputation   of  Dr.
Brown, frustrated.  A short period after this event, Brown
got his release, by binding himself to pay, within a certain
time, at stated periods, a small sum, until his whole debts,
amounting to 2502.,  should be liquidated.
  Dr. Brown  now brought out  a translation  of his Ele-
menta, and after disposing of  one thousand copies, he
made  only 702.   Owing to some pecuniary  assistance
which he derived from his kind friend, Mr. Maddison, a
happier prospect seemed  now opening  to his view.  His
practice began to increase, and various literary  specula-
tions  occupied  his  powerful  mind.  He  had  actually
agreed with a publisher for a copyright of a treatise on 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
175
the gout, for which he  was  to  receive 5002.  In the
midst of these flattering expectations, on the 7th of Octo-
ber, 1788, a fatal stroke of apoplexy put a  period to his
life.
  Upon the day preceding that of his death, he delivered
the introductory lecture of a fourth course, at  his house
in Golden Square.   During the lecture nothing unusual
was  remarked  in his appearance.   He spoke with vehe-
mence and animation.  The same  day, at dinner, how-
ever,  a very  valuable old friend of the family, Captain
William Hunter, observed so great an alteration in the
appearance of his face, that on returning in the evening
to Greenwich,  he could not  banish a  strong  presenti-
ment that his friend's end was approaching; so that next
day when Dr. Brown's son went to Greenwich to commu-
nicate the sad  tidings to Captain Hunter, he exclaimed,
as young  Brown  entered  the room,  " Your father  is
dead !"
   As soon as his death was  known at the University of
Padua, where  Brown's doctrines had  created a schism
among the professors,  many of the  students went  in
mourning for him, so highly was his name respected.*
   We would observe, in closing our sketch of the lives of

   * It may gratify the friends of Dr. Brown to know that
he has divided the medical faculty in Sicily into two
parties, in each of which symptoms  are to be traced
evincing the existence of a moral  malady, but too com-
mon, if we might not say almost universal, amongst the
faculty of the British Islands, the odium medicorum.  A
preliminary to a Sicilian  consultation has  more  than
once  produced  the question—How  does opium operate ?
And  the true Brunonian answer, Non sedat  opium, has
often been seen written  in large characters, on the out-
side of a wine-house, in the Plains of Catania, followed
by the  appropriate  exclamation,  Viva  il  celeberrimo
Brown! 
176             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

medical men who have had  to fight with difficulties, and
to struggle against misfortunes, that we have only selected
a few of the more prominent cases  recorded  in  medical
history.  It is our most sincere wish that the perusal of
the lives of Dr. Denman, John Hunter, Drs. Armstrong
and Brown, may have  the effect of stimulating  the stu-
dent in his career of industry.   He will learn, by study.
ing their history,  that  well-directed application  does
sometimes  succeed, notwithstanding the fearful opposi-
tion with which the profession has to contend.  We  trust
this circumstance will inspire him with hope, and brighten
his path through life. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             177
                   CHAPTER *IV.

              CELEBRATED medical poets.

Why Poets do not succeed as Physicians—Life and anecdotes
  of Sir Samuel Garih—Origin of the Kit-Kat-Club—Dr. Ma-
  son  Good—Dr. Oliver Goldsmilh—Dr. Erasmus Darwin—
  Young Keats—Dr. Mark Akenside— Dr. Walcot—Dr. J. Arm-
  strong—Sir Richard Blackmore—Haller.

  The sweet and delightful paths of poetry form a striking
contrast to the dry and often unsatisfactory study of me-
dicine.  This  talent is natural  to persons of an imagina-
tive turn of mind; and to those possessing such a mental
organization, how  little pleasure, comparatively speaking,
is taken in the often  wearisome and difficult investiga-
tions of pathology  and  therapeutics.
  The cultivation of the  poetic taste, and the study of
the  various branches of medical science, arc not compati-
ble  mental exercises.   The education of the medical man
necessarily involves in a great measure the consideration
of facts, which have come under  his own or others' ob-
servation, and after a careful  investigation of them, to
trace their analogies, and  to deduce from them principles
to guide him in the practical application of the agents of
the  materia medica.   Medicine cannot properly  be con-
sidered a demonstrative science;  the very circumstance
of our having  to deal with living beings renders it uncer-
tain ;  yet, notwithstanding this defect, it should never be
forgotten  that the Baconian  principle of induction  is as
applicable to it  as to  the sciences which arc considered
as exact and defined. 
178             PHYSIC and physicians.
   Taking  this view  of the matter, the man who can
 bring to the study of  medicine a mind, patient and un-
 wearied in the search after phenomena, and a disposition
 not to generalize too hastily, is likely to prove himself a
 successful practitioner;  but  he, whose poetic and active
 imagination compels him to arrive at premature conclu-
 sions, after an insufficient consideration of data, is likely
 to be the very reverse of successful,  when summoned to
 the bedside of a patient.
   The poet is engaged in tracing  resemblances between
 objects; and he who  is  engaged in the exercise of his
judgment, in the  search after truth, is mainly employed
 in discovering differences, in separating error from truth,
 and what is false from what is meretricious.
   Considered then, as a question  of  organization, the
 man with a  highly poetic temperament is  not  the  best
 calculated to shine as  a medical philosopher.   On the
same principle Locke maintains that a person with highly
developed powers of  wit, must necessarily  be defective
 in judgment*   The physiological  explanation  of the
 fact is this,—one  mental faculty is exercised to excess,
and that energy whibh  ought to be more generally dis-
tributed through  the  brain, the material instrument of
mind, is concentrated  to one portion of  the  sentient
organ.
   Again, any one power of the mind cannot be exercised
to excess, without, in  a  corresponding  ratio, abstracting
from the vigour of the other mental  organs.  How often
do we see a person who has spent the greater portion of
his early life, when the mind is so readily expanded and
moulded into beauty, in  acquiring  a profound acquaint-
ance with classical literature,  whilst all other  depart-
  * Burke, in  his 'celebrated essay on the " Sublime and
Beautiful," in alluding to this observation of Locke, says,
that " a perfect union of wit and judgment is one of the
rarest things in the world." 
physic and physicians.
179
 ments of human knowledge remain uncultivated—how
 often  have  we witnessed  such  men,  possessing  high
 classical attainments, but mere  children in questions re-
 quiring  the  exercise  of the judgment and  reasoning
 powers.
   Organically considered, the poet is not  the best quali-
 fied to pursue, with  logical  precision the intricate ques-
 tions which must  necessarily come under  the considera-
 tion of every man engaged in medical practice.
   We do not  maintain that  the imagination is a faculty
 of the mind which ought not to  be cultivated by the man
 engaged in the study of medicine : to a  certain extent, it
 is necessary  to exercise all  the  intellectual  organs, in
 order to obtain that degree of mental vigour indispensable
 to those desirous of  cultivating any science successfully.
   The object of education, says Milton,  is not to make a
 man a good classical scholar, an excellent  rhetorician, or
 mathematician, but  so to cultivate and  discipline all the
 powers of the mind, as to  qualify it to  be directed into
 any channel  of inquiry,  with the probability  of a  suc-
 cessful result.
   The celebrated Judge Blackstorte  was  in early life a
 poet; but when he entered upon the serious and  dry study
 of the law, he wrote his celebrated farewell to the muse,
 being  convinced  that  the cultivation of his poetic taste
 was incompatible with the study  upon which he was about
to enter.*
* In this poem he thus salutes his profession :—
     " Then welcome business, welcome strife,
       Welcome the cares and thorns of life,
       The visage wan, the purblind sight,
       The toil by day, the lamp by night,
       The tedious forms, the solemn prate,
       The pert dispute, the dull debate,
       The drowsy bench, the babbling hall,
       For thee, fair justice, welcome all." 
180             physic and physicians.
  The public have an idea, and to a certain extent it is
based on a correct view of the matter, that the literary
physician, and particularly he who cultivates this elegant
department of literature, is not the most competent to
distinguish the minute shades of disease; and  therefore
it is an uncommon circumstance for a medical man, who
has made himself eminent  in literature,  to succeed as a
practitioner.
  Take the case of  Dr. Goldsmith:  here we have a
physician of high literary attainments, one of England's
sweetest poets, and by no means deficient in a knowledge
of his profession ; yet it will be perceived by those who
read  his life,  that he would -have starved  had he had
nothing else to depend upon but the proceeds of his pro-
fessional exertions. He essayed several times to establish
himself in practice, but most lamentably failed.   He had
gained that notoriety which is to a certain degree essential
to  a  medical man's  success;  his name was generally
known, his poems were referred to in the drawing-room,
in the ball-room, and  in the senate-house ; he was spoken
highly of as  a man  of genius, and  yet he was seldom
called in to give his yiedical opinion.
  The case of Dr. Darwin was  somewhat different:  he
established himself in a provincial town; and a physician
may  do many things  in  the provinces, which would not
add to his practice if established in  the metropolis.   In
the country,  the prejudice is  not so inveterate against
literary physicians, as it is  in London.  Dr. Darwin was
very  fortunate in his  first introduction.   After com-
mencing practice at Lichfield, he was called in to a case
of difficulty, which had been under the care of a practi-
tioner of great eminence  in the town, and which had been
abandoned as incurable.   Darwin was  consulted; and,
fortunately for his reputation,  succeeded in effecting a
permanent cure.
Acting like Cortez, who,  when he  landed in Mexico,
burned his ships to render retreat impossible. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
181
   The news spread far  and wide, as these things do in
small country  towns;  and  Dr. Darwin  soon became
known,  and acquired a  respectable share  of public pa-
tronage.   It must, however,  in  this case, be  borne in
mind, that Darwin's principal  poems had a relation to
the science of medicine,  although his speculations  were
wildly theoretical.
   In  the case  of the author  of the  " Pleasures of the
Imagination," we  see an instance  of a physician justly
eminent  as a poet, and  yet filling some  high medical
appointments.   Akenside was engaged  in practice, but
never obtained very great reputation as a practitioner.
   But Akenside was  not merely a  poet; he was known
to the public and the profession as a medical writer of no
mean order.  The  circumstance of his being selected to
read the  " Gulstonian Lectures" before the College of
Physicians, was enough  to satisfy the public mind of his
medical competency, and to do away with  any  prejudice
which might have been created by his being distinguished
as a poet.
   Sir Samuel Garth never succeeded to any great extent
as a physician in the metropolis ;  he had a little practice,
but not  at all  commensurate with his  great  abilities.
He was eminent as a wit and a poet, and his society was
much courted by all the brilliant constellations of his day.
When a physician is thrown into such society,  it is, to a
certain extent, a bar against his advancement as a pro-
fessional man.   It operated in this way with the author
of the " Dispensary."
   Dr. Mason Good felt the evil of having devoted so much
of his valuable time to poetry.  He was a man universally
beloved  by all who were honoured with his friendship.
He was as distinguished  for his eminent piety  as for his
high classical and  medical attainments.  He was indeed
one who
           " To be loved need but be seen."
   All these circumstances acting  in combination  con-
                          16 
182             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

spired  to invest  him with a  respectable share of public
support.  "Had  the  late Dr. Good," says  an eminent
living physician,* " paid as  much attention to the recent
progress  of  pathology, as he did  to  poetry and meta-
physics, he would not have  been rejected by the College
of Physicians."t   " I  was   examined," continues our
authority, " on the same -day  that Dr. Mason Good was;
and in a' conversation I had with  the  author of the
' Study of Medicine,'  while pacing  the long  and sombre
hall of old Warwick, I was astonished  to find that the
translator of 'Lucretius' knew  scarcely  any thing  of
what had been done in the investigation of the seats and
effects  of disease since the days of Morgagni!"  Here
was one instance where the "Pursuits of Literature" and
science had drawn the mind  from at least one important
branch of medical study.
  Sir Samuel Garth descended from a good  family  in
Yorkshire.   He received  his academical education  at
Peter-house,  in Cambridge, where he resided  until  he
obtained  his degree of M.D. in 1691.  He was admitted
a fellow  of the College  of Physicians in 1692; and it
appears that so soon as he was able to make his way in
the metropolis, that he took  the first professional rank.
He was a very zealous adherent to  the whig party ; and
his talents for company, and attainments in  elegant lite-
rature, acquired him patronage among the great, and pro-
bably caused him to be regarded as a valuable auxiliary.
It has not often happened that poetical  abilities have
raised a man to medical eminence, except when accom-
panied with  some proofs of professional knowledge.  It
was, however, fortunate for  Dr. Garth, that  the poem
which  first gave  him celebrity, was upon a subject well
calculated to make a physician popular.
  * Dr. James Johnson, " Medico-chirurgical Review."
  t It is a singular circumstance that Dr. O. Gregory, in
his life of Good, makes no mention of this fact. 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
183
  Garth stood  very high in the estimation of all the
learned men of his day.  Mr. Addison nobly defended
his friend from a furious  attack made upon Dr. Garth's
poem to the Earl of Godolphin.  The attack appeared in
the  "Examiner," in  1710,  and was  replied to in the
Medley, or Whig Examiner, of the same year, by Addi-
son.  The  following lines were written by Lord Lands.
downe  on Dr. Garth's illness:
  "  Machaon sick! in every face we find,
     His danger is the danger of mankind;
     Whose art protecting, nature could expire
     But by a deluge, or a  general fire.
     More lives he saves than perish in our wars,
     And, faster than a plague destroys, repairs;
     The bold carouser and adventurous dame
     Nor fear the fever, nor refuse the flame,
     Safe in his skill, from all restraint set free,
     But conscious shame, remorse, or piety.
     Sire of all arts, defend thy darling  son,
     Restore the man  whose life's so much our own,
     On whom like Adam  the whole world's reclined,
     And, by preserving Garth, preserve mankind."
  On the death of Dryden, in May, 1701, his body was
brought, by the instructions of Garth,  to the College of
Physicians, when the doctor proposed,  and encouraged
by his generous example, a subscription for defraying
the expense of his funeral;  and, after pronouncing over
the body before it set out from Warwick Lane, a suitable
oration, he attended the solemnity to Westminster Abbey,
where  at last the remains of that great man were decently
interred. For this most remarkable act of tenderness and
respect much gratitude was expressed to the author of the
" Dispensary."
  On Dr. Garth's  establishment of a dispensary for the
relief of the sick poor who could  not  afford to  pay for
medical advice, he exposed  himself to the envy and re. 
184
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
sentment of many members of the faculty, all  of whom
he ridiculed in his celebrated poem.  " The  poem," says
Dr. Johnson, " as its subject was present and popular, co-
operated with passions  and prejudices then prevalent;
and, with such  auxiliaries  to  its intrinsic  merit, was
universally and liberally applauded.  It was on the side
of charity,  against  the  intrigues of interest—and  of
regular learning, against licentious usurpation of medical
authority—and   was,  therefore,  naturally  favoured by
those who read and can judge of poetry."
  Garth was one of the most esteemed members of the
celebrated Kit-kat club;   He became  early  acquainted
with some of the wisest and wittiest, as well as some of
the ablest and greatest men in the kingdom, to whom he
steadily adhered  in all their fortunes.   In justice to his
memory, it must be stated  that though he was zealous for
and constant to his party, yet he was very far from  having
that narrow  and  malignant spirit which induces men to
hate those who differ from them in sentiments.
  He was one of Pope's  earliest friends: the acquaint-
ance with him began at the age of fourteen or  fifteen.
Warton says, in a note to Pope's  pastorals, that Garth was
a man of sweet disposition, amiable manners, and  univer-
sal benevolence.   All parties, at the  time when party
violence was at  a great height, joined in  praising and
loving him.  " I hope," says Warton, " I may be pardoned
for speaking of his character con amore, from  my near
connexion of one of his descendants; and yet  I  trust  I
shall not be accused of an  improper partiality."   One of
the most exquisite pieces of wit  ever written by  Addison,
is a defence  of Garth  against the '' Examiner," in  1710.
  The  following  anecdote, as recorded by Pope, will show
on what intimate terms of friendship he was with Garth:—
  " The famous  Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to
taste than really possessed  of it.  When  I had finished the
first two or three books of my translation of the Iliad, that
lord desired  to have the pleasure of having them read at 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
185
his own house.  Addison, Congreve, and Garth, were there
at the reading.  In four or five places Lord Halifax stopped
me very civilly, with a speech each time, much of the same
kind, ' I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope, but  there is some-
thing in that passage which does not quite please me ;—
be so good as to mark the  place; and consider it a little
at your leisure.   I am sure you can give it a little turn.'
I returned  from Lord  Halifax  with Dr. Garth in  his
chariot; and, as wo were going along, was saying to  the
doctor that my lord had laid  me under a good deal of
difficulty by such loose  and general  observations; that I
had been thinking over the passages almost ever since,
and could  not  guess what it was that had offended his
lordship in either of them.   Garth laughed heartily at my
embarrassment;  said,  I had  not been long  enough ac-
quainted with Lord Halifax to know his way  yet; that I
need not puzzle myself  about looking through the places
over and over when I got home.  ' All you need do,' says
he,' is to leave them  just as they arc; call on Lord Hali-
fax two or three months  hence, thank him for his kind
observations on these passages, and then read  them to him
as  altered.   I  have known him much longer than you
 have, and will be answerable  for the event'  I followed
 his advice, and waited  on his lordship some time after;
 said I hoped he would find his objections to these passages
 removed; read them  to him exactly  as they were at first;
 and then his lordship was extremely pleased with them,
 and  cried out, ' Aye, now they are perfectly right; no-
 thing can be better.'"
   Garth was very much embarrassed one evening whilst
 writing a letter at a coffee-house, by an Irish gentleman,
 who was rude enough to  look over his shoulder all the
 time.  The physician,  however, seemed to take no notice
 of this  impertinence until  towards the close  of his letter,
 when he humorously added by way of postcript, " I would
 write you more  by this post, but there's a d——d tall im-
 pudent Irishman looking over my shoulder all the time."
                           16* 
186             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
"What do you mean, sir?" said the Irishman in a great
fury, " do you think I looked over your letter ?"  " Sir,"
said Sir Samuel, very gravely, " I never once opened my
lips to you."  " Ay, but you have put it down for all
that"  "That's impossible, sir," said  Garth, "as you
have never oneie looked over my letter."
  Garth, one Sunday, stumbled into a Presbyterian church,
to beguile a few idle moments, and seeing  the parson
apparently overwhelmed by the importance of the subject,
he observed to a person who stood near him, " What makes
the man greet ?"   " By my  faith," answered the other,
" you would, perhaps, greet too, if you  were in his place,
and had as little  to say."   " Come along  and dine with
me, my good fellow," said Garth, " I perceive you are too
good a fellow to be here."
  Garth was a general scholar, without the least tincture
or affectation of pedantry.   He was humane  in his pro-
fession, and not more ready  to visit than  to relieve the
necessitous.  His conversation was free, his wit flowing
and agreeable, and always  tempered  by affability and
good nature.
  Many amusing  anecdotes are recorded of this eminent
poet and physician.  On one occasion, when he met the
members of the celebrated Kit-kat Club, he declared that
he must soon be gone, having many patients  to attend;
but on some excellent wine being placed on the table, and
the conversation becoming interesting and animated, the
doctor  soon  forgot  his  professional  engagements.  His
friend, Sir Richard Steel, however, thought it his duty to
remind  the  doctor  of his  poor patients.  Garth  im-
mediately  pulled out  his  list, upon  which were fifteen
names.  " It is no great matter whether I see them to-night
or not," said he, " for nine of them have such bad consti-
tutions, that  all the physicians in the world  can't  save
them;  and the other  six have  such  good  constitutions,
that all the physicians in the world can't kill them."
  Garth, about the last three years of his life, talked in a 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
187
less libertine manner than he had been used to do.   " He
was rather doubtful, and fearful," says his  friend Pope,
" than  religious."   It was  usual  for him  to say, that if
there was any such thing  as religion, it was among the
Roman Catholics.  " He died a papist (as I was assured
by Mr.  Blount, who carried the father to him in his last
hours); probably, from  the greater efficacy we give the
sacraments.  He did not take any care of himself in his
last illness; and had talked for three or four years, as one
tired of living.   In short, I believe he was willing  to let
it go."*
  When Dr. Garth had  been for some time in a bad state
of health, he sent one  day for a physician, with whom he
was  particularly intimate, and  conjured him by  their
friendship, and by every thing that is most sacred, to tell
him sincerely, whether  he thought he  should be able to
get rid of his illness or not.  His  friend, thus conjured,
told him, that he thought he might struggle on with it for
some years, but that he much feared he could never get
the better of it  entirely.  Dr Garth thanked him for his
dealing so fairly with him: turned his discourse to  other
things, and talked very  cheerfully all the rest of the time
he stayed with him. As soon as he was gone, he called for
his servant, and said he was a good deal out of order, and
then sent for a  surgeon  to bleed him.   Soon after his ser-
vant went for another surgeon, who bled him in the  other
arm.  He then said he  wanted rest, and when every body
had quitted the  room, he took off the  bandages and lay
down with a design of bleeding to death.  His  loss  of
blood made him faint away, and that stopped the bleeding.
He afterwards sunk into a profound sleep; slept all night;
waked in the morning without his usual pains; and said
that if it would continue so, he would be  content to live
* Pope. 
188             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.

on.*   In his last illness he  did  not resort  to medicines,
but very foolishly let the disease take its own course.t
  In a letter written by Pope, dated Dec. 12th, 1718, to a
friend,t he gives the following account of Garth's death,
his fears of it, and his  own opinion of his character.
  " The best-natured  of men,"  says he,  " Sir Samuel
Garth, has left me in the truest concern for  his loss.  His
death was very heroical, and  yet unaffected enough to
have  made a  saint or  a philosopher famous.   But ill
tongues, and  worse hearts, have branded  even his last
moments, as wrongfully as they did his life with irreligion.
You  must have  heard  many tales on  this subject; but if
ever there was a good Christian, without knowing him-
self to be so, it was Dr. Garth."§
  * This anecdote Mr. Townly says, " I have heard from
his own mouth more than once."
  t In a  note to  Spence's Anecdotes, it is said "that
Garth sent to Addison, (of whom he had a high opinion,)
on his death bed, to ask him whether the Christian religion
was true.  Garth is stated to have died a Roman Catholic.
He was certainly of a sceptical turn of mind; as South
justly observes, " that there is less distance than is thought
between scepticism and popery ; and that a mind wearied
with perpetual doubt, willingly seeks repose  in the bosom
of a church which pretends to infallibility."
  t Pope's works, vol. xvii., p. 99.
  c) " Garth  has been  censured for voluptuousness, and
accused of  infidelity.  Being one  day  questioned by
Addison, upon his religious  creed, he is  said to have re-
plied, ' that  he was of the religion of wise men;'  and
being urged  to explain himself farther, he  added, ' that
wise men  kept their own  secrets.'  Pope says of him, in
his farewell to London, 1715,
       "------Garth, the best good Christian he,
        Although he knows it not."
                 "Singer's edition of Spence," p. 114. 
rHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             189
  The following verses were written by Garth  for the
toasting glasses of the Kit-kat Club:

                   LADY  CARLISLE.
    Carlisle's name can every muse inspire,
    To Carlisle fill the glass, and tune the lyre:
    With his lov'd bays, the gode of day shall crown
    A wit and lustre equal to his own.

                      the same.
    At once the  sun, and Carlisle, took their way,
    To warm the frozen North, and kindle day:
    The flowers  to both their glad creation owed—
    Their virtues he, their beauties she bestowed.

                     LADY ESSEX.
    The bravest  hero, and  the brightest dame,
    From Belgia's happy clime, Britannia drew;
    One pregnant cloud, we find does often frame
    The awful thunder, and the gentle dew.

                     the same.
    To Essex fill the sprightly wine,
    The health engaging and divine:
    Let purest odour scent the air,
    And wreaths of roses bind her hair.
    In her chaste lips there blushing lie,
    And then her gentle sighs supply.

                    LADY HYDE.
   The god of wine grows jealous of his art;
   He only fires the head, but Hyde the  heart.
   The Queen of love looks on, and smiles to see
   A nymph more mighty than a deity.

                  LADY WHARTON.
   When  Jove to Ida did the gods invite,
   And in immortal toasting passed the night, 
190
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
     With more than Nectar he the banquet blcss'd,
     For Wharton was the Venus of the feast.

  We quote these verses simply as curious records of the
estimation in which the ladies, to whom they refer, were
held at the time.   The  manner of toasting ladies after
dinner, peculiar to the Kit-kat Club, and the society out of
which it was formed, viz., " The Knights of the Toast,"
is alluded to in the 24th No. of the Tatler, to which, we
refer the curious.   In this  way, Garth, Addison, Mayn-
wearing, and the Earls of Halifax, Dorset, Wharton, &c,
have each  contributed their jeux  <P esprit  on the most
celebrated  beauties of their time.  This circumstance
gave rise to Aburthnot's epigram :—

      " Whence deathless Kit  club took its name,
          Few critics  can unriddle,
        Some say, from pastry-cook it came,
          And some from cat-and-fiddle.

      " From no trim beaus its name it boasts,
          Gray statesman, or  green wits;
       But from its pell-mell pack of toasts
          Of old  cats and young kits !"

  In the life of Dr. Mason Good, the translator of " Lu-
 retius," we have  another instance of a good and great
man, successfully struggling with  the storms of fate.   It
is not all  mankind who can  take Sterne's philosophic
view of the difficulties with which  we all have to contend
in  our  progress through life,—if wc  could, how much
happier would be our lot  " Many, many," says Sterne,
" are the ups and downs in  life, and fortune must be  un-
commonly gracious to that mortal who does  not experi-
ence a great variety of them:  though, perhaps, to those
may be owing  as  much  of our pleasures  as our  pains.
There are  scenes of delight in the  vale, as well as on  the 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
191
 mountain; and the inequalities of nature may be not less
 necessary to please the eye, than the varieties of life to
 please the heart"
   The author of the » Study of Medicine," was  the son
 of Mason Good, an independent clergyman.   At the age
 of fifteen, the subject of this sketch was apprenticed to
 Mr.  Johnson, a  surgeon-apothecary at Gosport   " He
 quitted," says Dr. O. Gregory, " the paternal roof, under
 the influence of all the emotions that are usually excited
 on such occasions.

  1 Some natural tears he dropt; but wiped them soon.' "

   The buoyancy and hilarity of youth, and  the direction
 of his ardent and  aspiring mind into fresh  channels  of
 research, soon rendered  him happy in his new situation.
 There is no  difficulty  in conceiving with  what jocund
 activity he would go through the varied employments and
 amusements of an apprentice to a country surgeon.  He
 quickly acquired and discharged the pharmaceutic func-
 tions ; he studied  the chemical guide, and the dispensa-
 ries of that day, with old Quincy, and other  books re-
 commended  to him by  Mr. Johnson.  At the age of fif-
 teen, he composed a " Dictionary of Poetic  Endings,"
 and several little poems.   He also drew "an abstracted
 view  of the  principal tropes  and figures of rhetoric, in
 their  origin and powers," illustrated by a variety of ex-
 amples, original and  collected.  Shortly afterwards, he
 made himself master of the Italian language, thus be-
 coming enabled  to cull  the  sweets of Ariosto, Tasso,
 Dante, and  the devotional Filieaja, whose works he pe-
 rused with the most enthusiastic avidity.
  A  few  years after his apprenticeship, Mr. Johnson
died, and Good was placed with a highly respectable  sur-
geon, of great skill and practice, residing at Havant, in
the neighbourhood  of the place where his fatlier  then
lived.  After the expiration  of his time, it  was  agreed 
192
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
that he should enter into partnership with a Mr. Deeks, a
surgeon  then established at Sudbury; and  in order to
qualify him for practice, he came to London, and attended
the lectures of Dr. George Fordyce, Dr. Lowder, and
other eminent medical professors.
  After finishing his studies in London, he returned to
the country, and entered into partnership with Mr. Deeks,
who in a short time relinquished  the practice wholly to
Mr. Good.  At the age of twenty-one, he married Miss
Godfrey, who died of consumption six months after their
marriage; thus learning, from sad experience, how cor-
rect was the presentiment that dictated these lines of a
brother poet:

        " Dearly bought, the hidden treasure
             Finer feelings can bestow;
          Chords, that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
             Thrill the deepest notes of wo."
                                            Br/RN3.

  In the  year 1792, Good was involved in pecuniary dif-
ficulties.  He had  advanced a large  sum of money, by
way of loan to  a friend, and  had become legally bound
for others:  an inability to repay him  this money embar-
rassed  him considerably.  Owing  to  this circumstance,
he  applied his  mind  resolutely to literary  occupations.
He became connected with several periodicals and  news-
papers, wrote plays, made translations from the French
and Italian, and prepared for the  press a series of philo-
sophical essays.
  In 1793 he came up to London, and entered into part-
nership with Mr. W., a gentleman in large practice, and
connected officially with one of the metropolitan prisons.
" I have at length,"  says  he, in  a letter to one  of his
country friends, " settled the matter between Mr. W. and
myself, after having  conceded to his  own terms; which,
though more severe than I expected, will, I hope, answer
in the end." 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
193
   In April, 1793, at the age of twenty-nine, Mr.  Good
removed to London.  He was  then in full health and
spirits, ardently devoted  to his profession, and anxious to
distinguish himself in the new  sphere  in which  he was
placed.   His character soon began to be duly appreciated
amongst medical men:  and on the 7th of November,
the same year, he was admitted a  member of the Col-
lege  of Surgeons.  But  a change of scene only carried
with  it a change of perplexities.  His partner, in a  short
time, became  jealous of his  talents, and of his rising
popularity; and had recourse to the basest means of in-
juring his reputation.
  If  Mr. Good prescribed one  course of treatment of a
private patient, Mr. W. would, in the  next visit, prescribe
one that was diametrically opposite.   If Mr. Good made
an entry in the  prison books, Mr. W., in  the succeeding
entry, would contradict it.  If Mr. Good rose  obviously
in the estimation of a private  patient, or his relatives,
Mr. W. would  set himself, by paltry insinuations, to  ex-
cite doubts of his skill and judgment.  And so on from
day  to  day.  The result  may  at  once  be  anticipated.
The business failed;  the partnership  was dissolved; Mr.
W. died  in the Fleet prison, and Mr. Good was again
generously assisted by his affectionate relative, at Ball.
ingdon Hall.*   An increasing  family,  project after pro-
ject defeated, the frequent occurrence of unforeseen vex-
ations, served  as new incentives to his  professional acti-
vity, and to the most extended  literary research.  Thus
circumstanced, for three or four years, he concealed  his
anxieties from those he most loved, maintained a cheerful
demeanour among his friends, pursued his theoretical and
practical inquiries into every accessible channel;  and, at
length, by God's blessing upon his exertions, surmounted
every difficulty, and obtained professional reputation and
* Mr. Fenn.
    17 
194
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
employment, sufficient  to satisfy his thirst for fame, and
to place him in what are usually regarded as  reputable
and easy circumstances.
  In the year  1797, Good commenced  his  translation  of
Lucretius, and contributed likewise to some of the re-
views and other periodical publications.
  The translation of Lucretius was undertaken, partly
at the entreaty of his literary friends;  but principally, as
he himself said to Dr. O. Gregory, that he  might bring
himself under  something like the urgency of a  moral ne-
cessity, to become thoroughly acquainted with the utmost
possible variety of subjects upon which men of literature,
science, and investigation, had been able  to throw any
light.
  For this purpose, he could not, probably have made a
happier selection  than  that  of Lucretius, " On The Na-
ture of Things," in which the topics are as greatly diver-
sified as the general title of the poem seems to indicate.
  The translation was finished in  October, 1799, having
been carried through in a way very unusual with works
of such magnitude;  it was composed in the  streets  of
London, during the translator's extensive walks, to  visit
his numerous  patients.  His practice was, to take in his
pocket two or  three leaves of an octavo edition of the ori-
ginal (Marchetti's), the text  being corrected by collation
with Wakefield's, to read over a  passage  two or three
times as he walked along, until he had engraven it upon
his ready memory; then to  translate the  passage, medi-
tate upon his  translation, correct and elaborate it, until
he had satisfied  himself.  Having accomplished this, the
bare sight of the original brought to mind his own trans-
lation, with all its peculiarities.
  In the same manner would he proceed  with  a second,
third,  and fourth  passage;   and after he  had  returned
home, and disposed of all his professional  business,  he
would go to his standing desk, and enter upon his manu-
script so much of the translation as he had been able to 
PHY8IC AND PHYSICIANS.
195
prepare satisfactorily.   In this manner, this great under-
taking was effected.
   In 1820, Mr. Good  obtained  a degree of M. D. from
Marischal College, Aberdeen.  In February, 1821, after
speaking  of various professional  topics,  he adds—" I
have now tried my new fortune for nearly six months,
and only wish I had felt it  prudent to have commenced
earlier, for it has succeeded  beyond my best expectations.
All  my old  circle of patients are, in turn,  patients still,
without a single exception, so far as I know ; and I have
added very considerably to  the number, as  well as have
to reply to a tolerably extensive  range of advice for  the
country ; so that my hands  are  pretty full.   My first pa-
tient, on entering on my new department, was Sir Gilbert
Blane, who  paid me this compliment, as I  feel it to be,
from mere friendship."
   In 1820, Dr. Good  published  his  " Physiological Sys.
tern;" and, in  1822, appeared, in four large octavo vo-
lumes, his celebrated  " Study of Medicine." The object
of the author in this great work  was to unite the different
branches  of medical  science, which had  usually been
treated separately, into  a general system.
   This work has gone  through several editions ; the last
with copious and  valuable notes, being edited  by Mr.
Samuel Cooper.
   In 1826, he published some lectures which he had  de-
livered at the  Surrey Institution, under the title of the
" Book of Nature."  This is a  highly valuable and in-
teresting work.
   During the last three  months  of his  life, his strength,
owing to his  incessant application to the two great works
to which we  have just alluded, declined rapidly, exciting
much solicitude in  the minds of Mrs. Good and his fa-
mily, but no alarm  of immediate danger.
  Only three days  previous to his death, a young lady
who was alarmingly ill, but then capable of being moved
from one place to  another, was  desirous of having  the 
196
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
benefit of his medical  advice.   Dr. Good's mind had
evinced some aberration in consequence of the fever, and
the intense pain which he suffered;  but at the time this
request was made known to him he experienced less pain,
and was tolerably composed.   He therefore' agreed to see
her, with Mr. Cooper, one of  his own medical attendants.
The young lady was accordingly conducted  to his  bed-
side ; and, after he had  made the usual inquiries, with
his wonted acumen, consideration, and kindness, he con-
ferred with Mr. C. on her case.  He  proposed a complete
and, as the event  proved, for  a  season, a very beneficial
change in the treatment:  he  wrote a prescription, which
bears the  usual  character of his  handwriting, and  is
marked by the peculiar elegance which always distin-
guished his pharmaceutic formula?.
  Dr. Mason Good terminated  his  valuable life on the
2d of January, 1827, in the  sixty-third year of his  age.
Mr. Roberts, the  editor of the British Review, speaks  in
the most flattering terms of his departed  friend.  He
says, " I  had long the happiness and honour  of being
ranked among  Dr. Good's intimate friends; but our inter-
course was distinguished by no occurrences of importance
enough to be  recorded.   During  our intimacy  he  was
always busily engaged in some intellectual or active em-
ployments for the  benefit of humanity, without neglect-
ing any of the hourly calls upon his friendship, his feel-
ing, and his courtesy.  I hardly believe there has existed
the person, who, in the  midst of studies  so  severe, has
maintained so kind a temper, and  so constant  a good-
nature.  I have visited him when laboriously occupied, in
mind, and when suffering in  body; I have been with him
at moments when his temper has been exercised by ill-
treatment ; but I have never  witnessed in him any other
frame of mind, than that of  benevolent cheerfulness, and
Christian composure.  I shall carry the  remembrance of
him to my grave, as one  in whose  society some of my
happiest hours have been passed, and whose example and 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             197
conversation  have afforded me  many lessons of wisdom
and virtue."
  " The  leading  faculty in Dr.  Good's  mind," says Dr.
Gregory, his, biographer, "which he possessed in a  re-
markable degree, was that of acquisition.  United with
this, were the faculties of retention,  of orderly arrange-
ment,  and of fruitful and diversified combination.  If
genius be rightly termed, 'the power of making new com-
binations, pleasing or elevating to the mind, or useful to
mankind,' he possessed  it  in a high degree.  He was
always fertile in the production of new trains of thought,
new selections, and groupings of imagery;  new expedients
for the extension of human good.  But, if genius be  re-
stricted to ' the power  of discovery, or of creative inven-
tion,' whether in philosophy or  the arts,  they who have
most closely examined Dr.  Good's character and works,
will be least inclined  to claim  for him that distinction.
Be this, however, as it may, there can be no question that
his intellectual powers were of the first order : that, in the
main,  they  were nicely equipoised,  and  that  he could
exercise them with  an unusual  buoyancy and elasticity.
His memory  was very  extraordinary; doubtless much
aided by  the  habits of arrangement so firmly established
in early  life.  His early acquired fondness for classical
and elegant literature, laid his youthful fancy open to the
liveliest impressions, and made him draw

     "The inspiring breath of ancient arts,
         And tread the sacred walks
       Where, at each step, imagination burns."

And this, undoubtedly, again added to  his  memory, the
picture being reproduced by constant warmth of feeling.
  Notwithstanding Dr. Good's great classical attainments,
he seldom introduced into bis discourse  a  quotation from
foreign languages; although, in addition to a perfect  ac
quaintance  with Latin,  Greek, French,  German and
                          17* 
198            THYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
Italian, he had made some progress in the Russian, Sans-
crit, and Chinese.  Until near the close of his life, his in-
cessant occupations never produced  in him a weariness
of  body  or  mind;  the  transition  from  one pursuit
to another being a  sufficient  relief to   both.  It  was
one  of his remarks,  " that he  could  digest five or  six
topics  of  interesting  research, within the compass of
twelve hours, and enter upon each with a vigour as though
he had just arisen from a good night's sleep."  He made it
a rule always to be doing something; and thus, while
travelling, he would often amuse himself with the design
and completion of a whole poem.   Another peculiarity in
his character was his love of method and arrangement,
which  was  equally visible in  his wardrobe,  accounts,
books, papers, and manuscripts.
  Dr. Good's mind was deeply  imbued with a devotional
spirit, which he carried with him into all the transactions
of life.   When prescribing for his patients, he was in the
habit of praying for divine direction ; or  administering a
medicine himself, he was often known to utter a short
cjaculatory prayer : and, in cases where a fatal issue  was
inevitable, he most scrupulously avoided the cruel delusion,
too common on  such  occasions—announcing his appre-
hensions with the utmost delicacy of feeling.
  We feel a high degree of gratification in laying claim,
for the profession, to Dr. Goldsmith, the author of the
sweetest poem in the English language,  " The  Deserted
Village."  The  poet  was originally destined  for  the
church; but he considered himself, by temperament, un-
fitted for the sacred  office.  So  high an opinion had he
formed of the  purity  of conduct  necessary to such as
attempted  to admonish, or to instruct their fellow-men
from the sacred  volume, that, even, at a late period of his
life, when  requested  to read  prayers in a private family,
he declined, with the remark, " that he did not deem him-
self good enough."
  From the following passage, in a paper  in the " Citizen 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
199
 of the World," we should suppose that one of his objec
 tions to going into the church, was  on account of the
 dress of the profession.
   Goldsmith  observes: " After I  had  resided at College
 seven years,  my father died, and left  me—his  blessing.
 Thus shoved from shore, without ill-nature to protect, or
 cunning to guide, or  proper stores to subsist me in so
 dangerous a voyage, I was obliged to embark  in the wide
 world at twenty.two.  But, in order to settle in life, my
 friends advised (for they always  advise when they begin
 to despise us), they advised me, I say, ' to go into orders.'
   "To be  obliged  to  wear a long wig, when I liked
 a short one, or a  black coat, when  I  generally  dress in
 brown, I thought was such a  restraint upon  my liberty,
 that I absolutely rejected the proposal.   A priest in Eng-
 land is not the same mortified creature, with  a bronze in
 China.   *   *   *  I rejected a  life of luxury, indolence,
 and  ease, from no other  consideration than that boyish
 one  of dress.  So  that my  friends were now  perfectly
 satisfied I was undone; and yet  they  thought  it a pity,
 for one that had not the least  harm in him, and was so
 very good-natured."
   After studying medicine, under the celebrated Monro,
 of Edinburgh, he visited the  continent, and graduated as
 a Physician at the  University of Padua.
   After his return  to London, Goldsmith had  many diffi-
 culties to struggle against.  He accepted the situation of
 usher in a country  school; but he did not long remain in
 this situation.  His description of the life he lead is truly
 graphic.  " The truth is, in  spite of all their labours to
 please,  an  usher is generally  the laughing-stock of  the
school.  Every trick is played upon him; the oddity of
his manners, his dress, or his language  are a fund of eter-
nal ridicule.   The  master  himself cannot help,  now and
then, joining in the laugh; and the poor wretch, eternally
resenting this  ill-usage, seems to live in a state of warfare
with all the  family.  After the fatigues of the  day,  the 
200
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
poor usher is obliged to sleep in the same bed with a
Frenchman, a teacher of that language to the boys;  who
disturbs him every night, and hour, perhaps, in papering
and filleting his  hair, and stinks worse  than a carrion,
with his rancid pomatums, when he lays his  head beside
him on the bolster.
  " I  have been  an usher at a boarding-school  myself,"
Goldsmith says, by the mouth of one of his characters,
"and  may I die  by an  anodyne necklace, but  I would
rather be an under-turnkey at Newgate.   I was up early
and late: I was brow-beaten by the master, hated for my
ugly face by the mistress, worried by the  boys within, and
never  permitted to stir out to receive civility abroad.  But
are you sure you  are fit for a school ?  let  me examine you
a little.  Have you been bred apprentice  to the business ?
No!   Then you  won't do for  a school.   Can you dress
the boy's hair ?  No!  Then you won't do for a school.
Have you had the small-pox ?   No !   Then  you  won't do
for a school.  Can you  lie three in a bed ?   No !  Then
you won't do for a school.  Have you got a good stomach ?
Yes!   Then you won't do for a school."
   After his return to  London,  Goldsmith obtained  a
situation of assistant to a chemist; but he soon relin-
quished  this engagement.  By  the friendship of Dr.
Sleigh, and a few other acquaintances in London, he was
enabled to establish himself as physician, in an humble
way, in Bankside, Southwark.  Humility of appearance
is not very favourable to  success in physic; his poorer
neighbours, indeed, found  him useful; but the rich, who
could  alone contribute to his support, usually expect some
external display of wealth, as one of the evidences of suc-
cessful practice,  in the candidate for their confidence,
because they rarely know any  thing of his qualifications.
   In  conformity to the prevailing garb of the  day for
physicians, Goldsmith, unable  to procure a new, had ob-
tained a second-hand, velvet coat; but, either from being
deceived in the  bargain,  or  by subsequent accident, a 
FHY?IC AND PHYSICIANS.
201
 considerable breach in the left breast was obliged to be
 repaired by the introduction of a new piece.  This had
 not been so neatly done as not to be apparent to the close
 observation of his acquaintance, and such persons as he
 visited in  the capacity of medical  attendant.   Willing,
 therefore,  to conceal what is  considered  too  obvious a
 symptom of poverty, he was accustomed to place his  hat
 over  the patch, and retain  it there  carefully during  the
 visit; but this constant position became noticed, and the
 cause being soon known, occasioned no little merriment
 at his expense.
   Dr. Goldsmith having been engaged for some years in
 a variety of publications, from which but little  profit was
 derived, made up his mind to enter either the army or the
 navy as a surgeon; and  for this purpose  he  presented
 himself before Surgeons' Hall, on  the 21st of December,
 1758, to be examined; and to the  utter  discomfiture of
 all  his  projects, and with  feelings near akin to despair,
 was rejected as  unqualified.
  Owing to this unfortunate  circumstance, Goldsmith
 was compelled to abandon the idea of entering the army
 or navy, and  he consequently resumed his literary pur-
 suits.   Some  years  afterwards, his  friend, Sir Joshua
 Reynolds,  persuaded him, a second time, to attempt to
 establish himself in  practice as a physician.  Willing to
 make the  experiment, he  assumed  a  more  conspicuous
 and expensive, though as appears from the fashion of that
 day, not at all an unusual medical garb.   A professional
 wig, a cane, purple silk small-clothes, a scarlet roquelaure,
 buttoned to the chin, and  charged, as we find  in his
 tailor's account-book, at four guineas  and a half, made
 him an exceedingly smart  physician. Transformations
 of this kind in men who are more  familiar with books
than with common  life, are  often in extremes ; a  few of
his  friends  amused  themselves with this change; and as
 if to satisfy others, or please himself with the experiment
 whether variety of  dress could acquire practice, three 
202             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS,

other suits are charged to him within the short space of
six months.  A  man-servant, likewise, was  soon after.
wards added to the establishment.
  He was occasionally called in by his friends; but the
fees he received were  not sufficiently numerous to be an
object of serious  pursuit, and  the restrictions, as he con-
sidered them, so  many upon his time, as to become irk-
some.  The  gravity of a practising physician required
that  he should abstain  from  scenes of familiar resort,
formerly  sought  and  enjoyed;  and  with  something  of
regret he avowed, that " he  was now  shut out  from many
places  where  he had formerly  played  the  fool  very
agreeably."  The caprice of patients, and the differences
of opinion with some of his brethren, tended  to increase
distaste towards his calling; an instance of which is re-
membered by a lady, who heard the anecdote from Sir
Joshua Reynolds.
  Dr. Goldsmith  had been called in to Mrs. Sidebotham,
an acquaintance, labouring under  illness ; and having
examined and considered the case, wrote his prescription.
The quality or quantity of the medicine ordered, exciting
the notice of the apothecary in attendance, he demurred
to administer  it  to  the  patient; an argument ensued
which had no effect in convincing either party of error,
and some heat being  produced by the contention, an ap-
peal was  at length made to the patient to know by whose
opinion and  practice she chose to abide.  She, deeming
the apothecary the  better judge of the  two,  from being
longer  in attendance, decided for him; and Goldsmith
quitted the  house highly  indignant,  declaring  to Sir
Joshua he would leave off prescribing for friends.   " Do
so, my dear doctor," replied Topham Beauclerk, when he
heard the story, and  afterwards jested  with him on the
subject;  " whenever you undertake to kill, let it be only
your enemies."
   Goldsmith obtained but little practice as a physician;
the circumstance of his being  celebrated as  a poet was 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
203
sufficient to induce the public to believe him incapable of
practising with success as a medical man-  He did not,
however, take this failure much to heart, his spirits were
of a buoyant and elastic nature, and  he derived that emi-
nence and emolument from his pen,  which he had vainly
attempted to acquire in the practice of his  profession.
Work  after  work appeared in  rapid  succession.  His
"Deserted Village," and   "Traveller," established  his
fame as a first-rate  poet, and his "  Vicar of Wakefield"
enabled him to take a  prominent  situation among  the
novel-writers of the day.
  A kindred spirit speaks  thus of Goldsmith's poetry:—
" It enjoys a calm and  steady  popularity, and  presents a
distinct and unbroken  view of poetical delightfulness.
His descriptions  and sentiments have  the  pure zest of
nature.  He is refined without false  delicacy, and correct
without insipidity.  Perhaps there is an intellectual com-
posure in his manner, which may in some passages  be
said to approach to the reserved and prosaic;  but he un-
bends from  this graver strain  of reflection to tenderness
and even playfulness, with  an case  and grace  almost
peculiarly his own ; and connects extensive views of the
happiness and interest  of society with  pictures of life,
that touch the heart by their familiarity."*
  Many highly amusing anecdotes are recorded of Gold-
smith.  We  shall relate those only which develope  the
peculiar features of the  poet's mind.
  One of the happiest retorts imaginable, considering the
character to whom it was addressed, was heard by Sir J.
Reynolds.
  Goldsmith, after mentioning that  he thought he could
write a fable, and stating the simplicity which that kind
of writing required, observed that in most fables the ani-
mals  introduced  seldom talk  in character.   " For  in-
stance," said he, " the fable of the Little Fishes who said,
* T. Campbell. 
204             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
birds fly over their heads, and  envying them, petitioned
Jupiter to be changed into birds.   The skill consisted in
making them talk like little fishes."  While he indulged
this idea, which it may be regretted he  never executed,
he observed Johnson shaking his sides and laughing, and
immediately continued,  " why,  Dr. Johnson, this  is not
so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make
little fishes talk, they would talk like whales."
  On  another  occasion, when Beauclerk  was  present,
Goldsmith talked of a project for having a third theatre
in London, solely for the exhibition of new plays, in order
to deliver authors from  the supposed tyranny of mana-
gers.   Johnson  treated  it slightingly, when  Goldsmith
rejoined, " Ay, ay, this  may be nothing to you, who can
now shelter yourself behind the corner of a pension."
  Johnson  told  the  following anecdote  of  himself.  " I
remember  once  being with  Goldsmith  in Westminster
Abbey.  While  we surveyed  the Poet's Corner, I said to
him,

     ' Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis.'

  " When we got to Temple Bar, he stopped me, pointed
to the heads upon it, and siily whispered me,

     ' Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur Istis.'

  While at  supper on one occasion, tete-a-tete, at Jack's
Coffee-House, Dean  Street, Soho Square, on  rumps  and
kidneys, Johnson observed,  " Sir, these  rumps are pretty
little things, but then a  man  must eat a great many of
them before he is satisfied."   " Ay, but,"  said Goldsmith,
" how many of them would reach  to the  moon '"  " To
the  moon!  ay, sir, I fear that exceeds your calculation."
" Not at all, sir," said Goldsmith, " I think I could tell."
" Pray let us hear." " Why, one—if it were long enough."
Johnson growled at this  reply for  some time, but at  last
recollecting  himself, " Well,  sir,  I have deserved it;  I 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
205
should  not have provoked so foolish an answer, by so
foolish a question."
   The following anecdote was  told  to Mr. Croker by
Colonel O'Moore.  As the colonel and Mr. Burke were
pro«eeding to dine with Sir Joshua, they observed Gold-
smith, also on his  way thither, standing  near a crowd
who were staring and shouting at  some foreign women
in the windows of a house in Leicester Square.   " Ob-
serve Goldsmith,"  said Burke to his companion,  " and
mark what passes  between him and me, by and by, at
Sir Joshua's."   Proceeding forward, they reached  the
house before him; and when the poet came up to Burke,
the latter appeared to receive him  coolly, when an ex-
planation of the cause of offence was with some urgency
requested.   Burke appeared reluctant to speak; but, after
some pressing, said, " that he almost regretted keeping
up an intimacy with one who could be guilty of such
gross indiscretions as he had just exhibited in the square."
The poet, with great earnestness, protested he was  un-
conscious of what he  meant.   " Why," said Burke, " did
you not exclaim, as  you were looking up at those women,
what stupid beasts the people were for staring with such
admiration at those painted Jezebels, while a man of your
talents passed by unnoticed ?"  Goldsmith was astonished.
" Surely, surely, my dear friend, I did not say so." " Nay,"
replied Burke, "if you had not said so how should I have
known it ?" " That's  true," answered the poet, with great
humility; " I am very sorry—it was very foolish; I do
recollect that something of the kind passed through my
mind, but I did not  think I had uttered it."
   While Goldsmith was completing  the closing pages of
the " Vicar of Wakefield"  in his garret, he was aroused
from his occupation by the unexpected appearance of his
landlady, to whom he was considerably in arrears, with
a long bill for the last few weeks'  lodgings.  The poet
was  thunderstruck with surprise and consternation.  At
length the landlady  relieved him from his embarrassment
                         18 
206             PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
by  offering to exonerate him  from the payment of his
debts, provided he would accept her  as  his true and law-
ful  spouse!  His friend, Dr. Johnson, chanced, by  great
good luck, to come in at the time, and, by advancing him
a sufficient sum to defray the  expenses of his establish-
ment, consisting of only himself and  a  dirty shirt, re-
lieved him from his matrimonial shackles.
  When Goldsmith obtained his celebrity  for his  play
" She Stoops to Conquer," he was often annoyed by being
compelled to listen to  the reading of the productions of
young authors, who fancied  they had  a  genius for wri-
ting plays.  On  one  occasion,  his  patience  had  been
greatly tried by a gentleman who fancied he had written
a tragedy  equal  to any  of Shakspeare's, and who had
called on Goldsmith to  solicit his  aid in  bringing  it out
upon  the  stage.  After the  theatrical  aspirant had left
the room, Goldsmith observed  to a friend, " I never did
the man an injury; but he would read his play to me."
  " Whatever  is new," says  Goldsmith,  " is in  general
false."  He was a great admirer of  the poems pretended
to have been written  by Rowley, a monk at Bristol, in
the fourteenth century; and, when  he  visited that  city,
he wished much to purchase Chatterton's  manuscripts of
them, then in the possession of Mr. George Catcote.  The
doctor, however, had nothing but his note  of hand to offer
for them.  "Alas! my  dear sir," replied Mr. Catcote, "I
fear a poet's note of hand is not very current upon our
exchange at Bristol."
  Of Goldsmith's credulity the following  anecdote  is re-
lated :—He was sitting one day at the  tavern where he
was accustomed to take his supper, when he called for a
mutton-chop, which was no  sooner  placed on the  table,
than  a  gentleman near him,  with  whom he was  inti-
mately acquainted, showed great tokens of uneasiness,
and wondered how the doctor could suffer the waiter to
place such  a bad chop before  him.   "  Bad," said  Gold-
smith, " in  good troth I  do not smell  it."  " I  never 
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
207
smelled any thing so unpleasant  in my life:" answered
the gentleman, " the fellow deserves  a caning for bring-
ing you meat unfit to eat."  " In good troth," said the
poet, relying on his judgment,  "I think  so  too; but I
will  be less severe in  my chastisement."   He instantly
called  the waiter, and insisted that he should  eat  the
chop,  as  a punishment.   The  waiter  resisted:  but  the
doctor threatened to knock him  down with his cane if he
did not comply.   When he had eaten half the chop, the
doctor gave him a glass of wine, thinking it would make
the remainder of the sentence less painful to him.  When
the waiter had  finished his repast,  Goldsmith's friend
burst into a loud laugh. " Whafails you now ?" said the
poet   " Indeed, my good friend," said the other, " I could
never think that a man whose knowledge of letters is so
extensive as yours, could be so great a dupe  to a stroke
of humour: the chop was as fine a one as  I ever saw in
my life."  « Was it ?"  said Goldsmith, " then I will never
give credit to what you say again; and so, in good troth,
I think I am  even with you."
  That Goldsmith possessed a kind and generous heart,
the following anecdote fully testifies:—A common female-
beggar once  asked alms of the  poet  as he  walked up
Fleet Street.   He generously gave her a  shilling.  His
companion, who knew nothing of the  woman, censured
the bard for his excess of humanity, adding, that, " The
shilling was misapplied, for she would spend it in  liquor."
" If it make  her happy in any  way," replied the doctor,
" my end is answered."  The doctor's humanity was  not
always regulated  by discretion.   Being once  pressed by
his tailor for  a bill of 40/., a day was fixed  for payment;
Goldsmith procured  the  money;  but, Mr. Glover calling
upon him, and relating a piteous tale of his goods being
seized  for rent,  the  thoughtless,  but  benevolent  doctor
gave him the whole of  the money.   The  tailor called,
and was told, that, if he had come a little sooner he would
have received the money, but he had just parted with 
2oa
PHYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.
 every shilling of it to a  friend in distress, adding,  " I
 should have been an unfeeling monster not to have  re-
 lieved distress when in my power."
   Goldsmith  was always  plain in his appearance; but,
 when a  boy, he had  suffered so much from  the small-
 pox,  that he was considered  particularly  ugly.  When
 he was about seven years  old, a fidler, who reckoned
 himself a wit, happened to be playing in Mr. Goldsmith's
 house.  During  a pause between two sets of country-
 dances, little Oliver surprised the party by jumping  up
 suddenly, and dancing round the room.  Struck with the
 grotesque  appearance  of the ill-favoured child, the fidler
 exclaimed," jEsop!" and the company burst into laughter;
 when Oliver turned  to  them with a  smile,  and repeated
 the following couplet:—

    " Heralds proclaim aloud, all saying,
      See Msop, dancing,  and his Monkey playing!"

   Mr. Prior  relates another  anecdote,  showing  Gold-
smith's generous disposition.  While playing whist  at
the house  of Sir William  Chambers, in Berners Street;
the party at the table, consisting besides Sir William and
Lady Chambers, of Baretti  and Goldsmith,  the latter
hastily threw  down  the cards at a critical point of the
game, flew out  of  the  room, and, as appeared by the
opening  at the door, into  the street, returning speedily
and  resuming his  seat.   Sir William, conceiving that
something  unusual  had  occurred,  ventured,  after  the
lapse of a few minutes, to inquire the cause  of his sudden
retreat, trusting it had not been occasioned by the  heat
of the room.  " Not at all," was the reply, " but, in truth,
 I could not bear to hear that unfortunate woman in the
street, half-singing,  half-sobbing;  for such tones could
only arise  from the extremity of  distress;  her  voice
grated painfully on my ear, and jarred my frame, so that
I could not  rest until I  had sent her away."  On further 
                THYSIC AND PHYSICIANS.             209

explanation, it appeared that others had likewise noticed
a female voice of peculiar character, aiming to sing, but
without remarking that mingled tone of misery conveyed
to the mind  of the  poet, and which he  had quitted the
room to relieve.
  Dr. Johnson  used  to speak with coarse contempt of
Goldsmith's want of veracity.  " Noll," said he to a  lady
of great distinction  in  literature, " Noll, madam, would
lie through a deal-board."
  Notwithstanding, however, this circumstance, Dr. John-
son entertained a high opinion of Goldsmith's pre-eminent
talents, as will  be found by the  epitaph which he wrote
after the poet's  death :—

  " Thou beholdest the tomb of Oliver: press not, O
stranger, with the foot  of folly, the venerable dust.  Ye
who care for nature, for the charms of song, for the deeds
of ancient days—weep for  the historian, the naturalist,
and the poet."
THE END. 
 
               CONTENTS
                     OF THE

HOME  &  TRAVELLER'S

              LIBRARY.
No. I.—TEXAS  AND THE  GULF OF MEXICO;  OR,
     YACHTING IN THE  NEW  WORLD.  By Mrs.
     Houstoun.  With Illustrations. Price 25 Cents.
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No. II.—THE ENGLISHWOMAN IN EGYPT.  By Mrs.
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  " The first English lady who  has been admitted as a privi-
leged friend into the hareems of those of the highest rank in
the Egyptian Capital."—Blackwood's Magazine.
  " All feeling of tediousness is lost in  the single wish that
there was more."—Smith's Weekly Volume.
  " The excellent little book which results from Mrs. Poole's
observations, gives us, in a few pages, more information on
the grand mystery  of Oriental homes, than  we have ever
been able to draw from other sources."—London Quarterly
Review.
  "All the men in Europe together could  never have gained
or imparted the information in this book."—London Morning
Post.
  " Emphatically the book of a lady."—Frazer. 
2
  " Informing, sprightly, and entertaining."—New Monthly.
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  " Moat agreeable and entertaining."—Chambers.
No. III.—NIGHTS OF THE ROUND  TABLE.  By Mrs.
      Johnstone,  author  of " Clan  Albyn," " Elizabeth De
      Bruce," &c.  Price 25 Cents.
  " This book, the third of the series entitled ' The Home and
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give families one of the most valuable cabinets of miscellane-
ous  reading ever printed."—Saturday Post.
  "The Nights of the Round  Table  exhibit  much fine,
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and nervous language."—Aberdeen Herald.
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carrying instruction with amusement.  Many of them contain
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We reckon it no small recommendation of these tales, that in
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No.  IV—SKETCHES OF  IMPOSTURE,  CREDULITY,
      AND FANATICISM.  Price 25 Cents.
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strous beliefs and modes of deception under which our race
has lived and been  imposed upon.  It is a work not merely 
3
for the gratification of the  present moment,  but one which
will be read by successive  generations with interest and in-
struction."—Smith's Weekly Volume.
  " A most curious and interesting work."—Protestant Church-
man.
No.  V.—THE OPIUM WAR;  BEING RECOLLECTIONS
      OF SERVICE  IN CHINA.  By Captain Arthur Cu-
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scenes of the Chinese war,  must necessarily resort to Captain
Cunynghame's volumes."—Foreign Quarterly Review.
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in China,  is a brief but most novel and entertaining glimpse
of the celestials and the fun that Her Gracious Majesty's fleet
and  army  had  with  the  celestial boobies:  the  British brag
about their war with the celestials, but we think there is not
much glory in  not being frightened with wooden  artillery
painted to the life, the noise of  gongs, and celestial warriors
dressed  up in tiger Bkins,  who, when  they  find they can't
frighten the ' outside  barbarians' in  this way, take  to their
heels, and instead of fighting like tigers, run away like rabbits!
What glory for  Her Majesty's  army and navy to  encounter
and conquer such an enemy!"—Wayne Co. Herald.

No.  VI. — IMPRESSIONS  OF IRELAND AND  THE
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      &c.  Price 25 Cents.
  •' The most agreeably entertaining work that has for  many
a day met  our view."—Jackson {Tenn.) Republican. 
4
  " An entertaining work."—Jeffersoniati.

No. VII.—DONALDSON'S EVENTFUL LIFE  OF A SOL-
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the  peninsular campaigns,  and although he seems to have es-
caped the worst effects of a soldier's life upon the character,
his  narrative  furnishes the strongest proofs  of  the evils  of
war."—Smith's Weekly Volume.

No. VIII.—DUNN'S HISTORY OF THE OREGON TERRI-
      TORY AND BRITISH NORTH AMERICAN FUR
      TRADE.   Price 25 Cents.
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Territory.  The author naturally takes the British side of the
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of affairs."—U. S. Gazette.
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he advocates, and  will  give offence  in America, without
affording satisfaction  here.   Tbe work,  however, contains
much, and of interest, about which there need be no discus-
sion: a rapid sketch of the History of the Oregon Settlement,
of the Hudson's Bay and other fur-trading companies, an in-
teresting account of the fur trade, and of those engaged in it,
with characteristic anecdotes and illustrations of the habits
and manners of the  native Indians."—London Athenaeum.
NO. IX.—NARRATIVE  OF  THE  MUTINY AT SPIT-
      HEAD AND THE NORE.  Price 25 Cents.
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comparatively little known."—Smith's Weekly Volume. 
       GREAT LITERARY ENTERPRISE.
                  BOOKS BY MAIL!
 The " Waldie" System Revived by the  Original
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  On the first of January, 1845, was commenced at Philadel-
phia the publication of SMITH'S WEEKLY VOLUME, a
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of Waldie's, at a greatly reduced price, of a larger size and new
type.—Conducted by the original, and for the first seven years,
the sole editor of Waldie's  Library, and published by his son.
  The plan embraces the publication of the newest and best 
6
books in the various departments of Travels, Voyages, Tales*
Sketches, Biography and Memoirs;  in short, the whole range
of polite literature, and  including translations made expressly
for the work.
                       TERMS.
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ry," is printed on  a  double super-royal sheet, sixteen  pages
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  %* Journal of Belles  Lettres.  By thus increasing tbe
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all who request it, postage paid.
                         LLOYD P. SMITH, Publisher

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   Philadelphia, 1845.
   $3r A few complete  sets of the back numbers  are still on
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