Clergymen and Doctors 9

Clergymen and Doctors 9

DR. BARROWBY,

 

Who lived about the middle of last century, when canvassing for a post

in St. Bartholomew's Hospital, called upon a grocer in Snow Hill, one

of the governors. The grocer was sitting in his counting-house, and

thence saw the Doctor enter the shop. Knowing his person, and having

little doubt that the object of his visit was to solicit his vote at

the approaching election, the grocer immediately donned his hat and

spectacles, and greatest parochial consequence, and, strutting into the

shop with an insolent air of patronage, addressed the Doctor

with--"Well, friend, and what is your business?" Barrowby promptly and

quietly said, "I want a pound of plums;" and after the abashed and

mortified grocer had weighed them out and put them up, Barrowby paid

for them and walked off without saying a word. (This story has been

erroneously told of Abernethy.) Of the same Dr. Barrowby, it is related

that an Irish gentleman, whom the College of Physicians had declined to

pass, called next day on him, and insisted upon fighting him, as being

one of the Censors who had been the authors of the rejection. Barrowby,

who was small of stature, declined to fight. "I am only the third

Censor," he said, "in point of age; you must first call out your

countryman, Sir Hans Sloane, our President, and when you have fought

him and the two senior Censors, then I shall be ready to meet you."

 

 

A DESIRABLE CURE OF SOULS.

 

Southey copied the following from Jackson's _Oxford Journal_:--

 

"NEXT PRESENTATION.

 

"To be sold by auction, by Hoggart and Philips, at the Auction Mart,

opposite the Bank of England, on Thursday next, the 11th day of April

1811, the next presentation to a most valuable living, in one of the

first sporting counties. The vicinity affords the best coursing in

England, also excellent fishing, an extensive cover for game, and

numerous packs of fox-hounds, harriers, etc.; it is half-an-hour's ride

from one of the first cities, and not far distant from several most

fashionable watering-places; the surrounding country is beautiful and

healthful, and the society elegant and fashionable. The incumbent is

about fifty years of age. Particulars may be had," etc. etc.

 

 

BEAU NASH'S TREATMENT OF A PREscRIPTION.

 

When Beau Nash was ill, Dr. Cheyne wrote a prescription for him. Next

day the Doctor, coming to see his patient, asked him if he had followed

the prescription. "No, truly, Doctor," was the answer of Nash; "if I

had I should have broken my neck, for I threw it out of a two pair of

stairs' window."

 

 

PULTENEY'S CURE BY SMALL BEER.

 

Mr. Pulteney, afterwards the Earl of Bath, lay (about 1730) for a long

time at Lord Chetwynd's house of Ingestre, in Staffordshire, sick, very

dangerously, of a pleuritic fever. This illness cost him an expense of

750 guineas for physicians; and, after all, his cure was accomplished

merely by a draught of small beer. Dr. Hope, Dr. Swynsen, and other

physicians from Stafford, Lichfield, and Derby, were called in, and

carried off about 250 guineas of the patient's money, leaving the

malady just where they found it. Dr. Freind went down post from London,

with Mrs. Pulteney, and received 300 guineas for the journey. Dr.

Broxholm went from Oxford, and received 200 guineas. When these two

physicians, who were Pulteney's particular friends, arrived, they found

his case to be quite desperate, and gave him over, saying that

everything had been done that could be done. They prescribed some few

medicines, but without the least effect. He was still alive, and was

heard to mutter, in a low voice, "Small beer, small beer." They said,

"Give him small beer, or anything." Accordingly, a great silver cup was

brought, which held two quarts of small beer; they ordered an orange to

be squeezed into it, and gave it to him. Pulteney drank off the whole

at a draught, and demanded another. Another cupful was administered to

him; and soon after that he fell into a profuse perspiration and a

profound slumber for nearly twenty-four hours. In his case the saying

was eminently verified, "If he sleep he shall do well." From that time

forth, he recovered wonderfully, insomuch that in a few days the

physicians took their leave. The joy over his recovery was diffused

over the whole country; for he was then in the height of that

popularity which, after his elevation to the peerage, he completely

forfeited.

 

 

A WITTY FRENCH PREACHER.

 

A French preacher, called Father André, was nicknamed by his Bishop _le

petit fallot_ (the little lantern). Having to preach before the

prelate, André determined to notice this, and took for his text, "Ye

are the light of the world." Addressing himself to the Bishop, he said,

"Vous etês, monseigneur, le grand fallot de l'église, nous ne sommes

que de petits fallots." Father André, preaching before an Archbishop,

perceived him to be asleep during the sermon, and thought of the

following method to awake him. Turning to the beadle of the church, he

said in a loud voice, "Shut the doors, the shepherd is asleep, and the

sheep are going out, to whom I am announcing the word of God." This

sally caused a stir in the audience, which awoke the Archbishop. Being

once to announce a collection for a young lady, to enable her to take

the veil, he said, before the commencement of his sermon, "Friends, I

recommend to your charity a young lady, who has not enough to enable

her to make a vow of poverty." Preaching during the whole of Lent in a

town where he was never invited to dine, he said, in his farewell

sermon, "I have preached against every vice except that of good

living--which, I believe, is not to be found among you, and therefore

needed not my reproach."

 

 

CROMWELL AND RICHARD BAXTER.

 

After Cromwell had seized on the government, Richard Baxter, the

celebrated Nonconformist divine, once preached before the Protector,

when he made use of the following text: "Now, I beseech you, brethren,

by the name of our Lord Jesus the Christ, that ye all speak the same

thing, and that there be no division amongst you; but that ye be

perfectly joined together in the same mind, and in the same judgment."

The discourse on these words was levelled against the divisions and

distractions which then prevailed, especially in the Church. After the

sermon, Cromwell sent for Mr. Baxter, and made a long and serious

speech to him, about God's providence in the change of the government,

and the great things which had been done at home and abroad. Mr. Baxter

answered, that it was too condescending in his Highness to acquaint him

so fully with all these matters, which were above his understanding;

but that the honest people of the land took their ancient monarchy to

be a blessing, and not an evil, and humbly craved his patience, that he

might ask how they had forfeited that blessing? At this question

Cromwell became angry; he said, "There was no forfeiture; but God had

changed things as it pleased Him;" and after reviling the Parliament

which thwarted him, and especially by name four or five members who

were particular friends of Mr. Baxter, he dismissed the worthy divine

with signs of great displeasure.

 

 

MESSENGER MONSEY'S DYING JESTS.

 

Dr. Messenger Monsey, the great grandfather of Lord Cranworth (so at

least Mr. Jeafferson affirms), was appointed physician to Chelsea

Hospital through the influence of Godolphin, and, after holding that

office for about half a century, died in his rooms at Chelsea in 1788,

in his ninety-fifth year. The eccentricities that had characterized his

prime continued to distinguish him to the last. In consequence of his

great age, many intending candidates for the office went down to

Chelsea, in order to contemplate the various advantages and _agrémens_

of the situation, and observe the progress of the tenacious incumbent

towards final recumbency. Monsey, who was at once a humorist, and

possessed of a sharp eye for a visitor of this order, one day espied in

the College walks a reconnoitring doctor, whom he thus accosted: "So,

Sir, I find you are one of the candidates to succeed me." The physician

bowed. Monsey proceeded: "But you will be confoundedly disappointed."

"Disappointed!" exclaimed the physician, with quivering lips. "Yes,"

returned Monsey; "you expect to outlive me; but I can discern from your

countenance, and other concomitant circumstances, that you are

deceiving yourself--you will certainly die first; though, as I have

nothing to expect from that event, I shall not rejoice at your death,

as I am persuaded you would at mine." It actually fell out as Monsey

(possibly only by way of a ghastly jest) had foretold; the candidate

lived but a short time. The Doctor was so diverted with checking the

aspiring hopes of his brethren of the faculty, that whenever he saw a

physician on the look-out, he was not content till he had gone down to

comfort him in the same manner. He did so to several; and it is very

remarkable--if it be true, as it is alleged--that his predictions were

in every case verified. At last the medical speculators shrank in

superstitious alarm from Chelsea, and left Monsey to die in peace;

indeed, when his death happened, the Minister of the day was not

engaged by a single promise, nor had he had for some time a single

application for the place of physician to the College. Monsey got out

of his own death as much grim fun as he had out of the poor prying

place-hunters. A few days before he died, he wrote to Mr. Cruickshanks,

the anatomist, begging to know whether it would suit his convenience to

undertake the dissection of his body, as he felt that he could not live

many hours, and Mr. Forster, his surgeon, was then out of town. The

dissection was one of the instructions of his eccentric and rather

brutal will; his body was not to be subjected to the insult of any

funeral ceremony, but, after the surgeon had finished with it, "the

remainder of my carcase may be put into a hole, or crammed into a box

with holes, and thrown into the Thames." His will was, so far as

regards the dissection, faithfully carried out; Mr. Forster dissected

the body, and delivered a lecture upon it to the medical students in

the theatre of Guy's Hospital. Before he had disposed of his body by

will in the manner described, and when he meant to be buried in his

garden, he had written an epitaph eminently characteristic of his

violent cynicism and contempt of things sacred:--

 

 

MONSEY'S EPITAPH, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

 

"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 on

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 carcase of Monsey be quiet."

 

 

UNMISTAKEABLE IDENTITY.

 

A Reverend Doctor in London was what is usually termed a popular

preacher. His reputation, however, had been gained not by his drawing

largely on his own stores of knowledge or eloquence, but by the skill

with which he appropriated the thoughts and language of the great

divines who had gone before him. With fashionable audiences, lightly

versed in pulpit lore, he passed for a miracle of erudition and pathos.

It did, for all that, once happen to him to be detected in his

larcenies. One Sunday, as he was beginning to amaze and delight his

admirers, a grave old gentleman seated himself close to the pulpit, and

listened with close attention. The preacher had hardly finished his

third sentence, before the old gentleman muttered, loud enough to be

heard by those near, "That's Sherlock!" The Doctor frowned, but went

on. He had not proceeded much further, when his tormentor broke out

with, "That's Tillotson!" The Doctor bit his lips and paused, but,

considering discretion the better part of valour, again proceeded. A

third exclamation of "That's Blair!" however, was too much, and fairly

deprived him of patience. Leaning over the pulpit, he cried, "Fellow,

if you do not hold your tongue, you shall be turned out!" Without

moving a muscle of his face, the grave old gentleman raised his head,

and, looking the Doctor full in the face, retorted, "_That's his own!_"

 

 

WHITFIELD AND THE NEW YORK SAILORS.

 

When Whitfield preached before the seamen at New York, he had the

following bold apostrophe in his sermon:--"Well, my boys, we have a

clear sky, and are making fine headway over a smooth sea, before a

light breeze, and we shall soon lose sight of land. But what means this

sudden lowering of the heavens, and that dark cloud arising from

beneath the western horizon? Hark! Don't you hear distant thunder?

Don't you see those flashes of lightning? There is a storm gathering!

Every man to his duty! How the waves rise, and dash against the ship!

The air is dark! The tempest rages! Our masts are gone! The ship is on

her beam ends! What next?" It is said that the unsuspecting tars,

reminded of former perils on the deep, as if struck by the power of

magic, arose with united voices and minds, and shouted, "_Take to the

long boat._."

 

 

CLEVER PERVERSION OF scRIPTURE.

 

Dr. Williamson, Vicar of Moulton, in Lincolnshire, had a violent

quarrel with one of his parishioners of the name of Hardy, who showed

considerable resentment. On the succeeding Sunday the Doctor preached

from the following text, which he pronounced with much emphasis, and

with a significant look at Mr. Hardy, who was present: "There is no

fool like the fool _Hardy_."

 

 

DR. WASDALE'S LONG RIDE.

 

Dr. Wasdale, who originally was an apothecary, resided at Carlisle when

George III. came to the throne; and as he had some business to transact

in London, he was desirous to see the pageant of the coronation at the

same time. As he was very busy in his professional engagements at

Carlisle, he set out on a Saturday after the market was over, about one

in the afternoon, and got to London the next day, Sunday, in the

evening, having ridden 301 miles in twenty-eight hours. He left London

again on the following Thursday about noon, and got home on Friday in

the evening. This is perhaps the greatest equestrian feat in medical

annals; and, for the information of possible rivals, the Doctor left

the memorandum "that he made use of his own saddle the whole journey."

Dr. Wasdale, in the later part of his life, resided in Spring Gardens,

but did not engage in practice, acting as private secretary to the Duke

of Norfolk.

 

 

ICONOCLASTIC ZEAL IN THE NORTH.

 

"The high altar at Aberdeen"--so we read in Douglas's _East Coast of

Scotland_, published at the end of last century--"a piece of the finest

workmanship of anything of the kind in Europe, was hewn to pieces in

1649, by order of the parish minister. The carpenter employed for this

infamous purpose, struck with the noble workmanship, refused to lay a

tool on it; till the more than Gothic priest took the hatchet from his

hand, and struck the first blow." Elsewhere Douglas, who displays a

heart hatred of the image-breakers, remarks that, "so violent was the

zeal of that reforming period against all monuments of idolatry, that

perhaps the sun and moon, very ancient objects of false worship, _owed

their safety to their distance_."

 

 

UNCONCERN IN PRESENCE OF DEATH.

 

Dr. Woodville, the author of a work on medical botany, lived in

lodgings at a carpenter's house in Ely Place, London; and a few days

before he died, Dr. Adams brought about his removal, for better

attendance, to the Small-pox Hospital. The carpenter with whom he

lodged had not been always on the best terms with him. Woodville said

he should like to let the man see that he died at peace with him, and,

as he never had had much occasion to employ him, desired that he might

be sent for to come and measure him for his coffin. This was done; the

carpenter came, and took measure of the Doctor, who begged him not to

be more than two days about it, "for," said he, "I shall not live

beyond that time;" and he actually did die just before the end of the

next day. A contemporary and friend of his, Dr. George Fordyce, also

expired under similar circumstances. He desired his youngest daughter,

who was sitting by his bedside, to take up a book and read to him; she

read for about twenty minutes, when the Doctor said, "Stop, go out of

the room; I am going to die." She put down the book, and went out of

the room to call the attendant, who immediately went into the bedroom

and found that Fordyce had breathed his last.

 

 

AN AGRICULTURAL DEFENCE OF BIGOTRY.

 

In Ryder's _History of England_, a singular reason is stated to have

been alleged by the Interlocutor, in support of a motion he had made in

Convocation against permitting the printing of Cranmer's translation of

the Bible. "If," said the mover, "we give them the scriptures in their

vernacular tongue, what ploughman who has read that 'no man having set

his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of

heaven,' will thenceforth make a straight furrow?"

 

 

PURITAN RECHRISTENING OF PLAYING CARDS.

 

The Puritans objected to the use of "heathen" names, not only for

children, but for the "court" cards of the pack. They complained,

according to Collier, of the appellations of Hercules, Alexander,

Julius Cæsar, Hector, and such like; and they wanted to have the Kings

called David, Solomon, Isaiah, and Hezekiah; the Queens, Sarah, Rachel,

Esther, and Susannah; the Knaves, Balak, Achitophel, Tobit, and Bel.

There was, however, it must be confessed, considerable toleration in

their permitting the use of cards at all.

 

 

JOHN HUNTER THE ANATOMIST.

 

Wadd, in his interesting collection of medical _Mems., Maxims, and

Memoirs_, says of John Hunter:--"When Hunter began practice, the town

was in possession of Hawkins, Bromfield, Sharpe, and Pott; whilst Adair

and Tomkins had the chief practice derived from the army. He remained

in unenvied obscurity for many years; and so little was he considered,

that some time after he began lecturing his class consisted of less

than twenty. Dr. Denman used to say that William Hunter was a man of

order, and John Hunter a man of genius; and, in truth, with all his

cleverness, which was more than ordinary, 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 __EXPRESSION__s. Hunter was a philosopher in more senses than one:

he had philosophy enough to bear prosperity as well as adversity, 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 profession, or more for the honour of it. He cared not

for money himself, and wished the Doctor 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,

 

'J. HUNTER.'

 

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 out that 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

had been unfortunate, and were by no means able to support the expense

of such an affliction. 'I sent back to the husband nineteen guineas,

and kept the twentieth,' said he, 'that they might not be hurt with an

idea of too great an obligation. It somewhat more than paid me for the

expense I had been at in the business.' He held the operative part of

surgery in the lowest estimation. 'To perform an operation,' said he,

'is to mutilate the patient whom we are unable to cure; it should

therefore be considered as an acknowledgment of the imperfection of our

art.' Among other characteristics of genius, was his simplicity of

character and singleness of mind. His works were announced as the works

of _John Hunter_; and _John Hunter_ on a plain brass plate announced

his residence. His honour and his pride made him look with contempt on

the unworthy arts by which ignorant and greedy men advance their

fortunes. He contemplated the hallowed duties of his art with the

feelings of a philanthropist and a philosopher; and although surgery

had been cultivated more than 2000 years, this single individual did

more towards establishing it as a _science_, than all who preceded him."

 

 

LORD BACON ON THE REVIVAL OF "PROPHESYING."

 

Lord Bacon, in his _Inquiry on the Pacification of the Church_, asks

whether it might not be advantageous to renew the good service that was

practised in the Church of England for some years, and afterwards put

down, against the advice and opinion of one of the greatest and gravest

prelates of the land. The service in question was commonly called

"prophesying;" and from this description of it by Bacon it may be seen

that it might have benefits of its own, not in the Church of England

alone or especially, if it were resumed at the present day:--"The

ministers within a precinct did meet upon a week-day in some principal

town, where there was some ancient grave minister that was president,

and an auditory admitted of gentlemen, or other persons of leisure.

Then every minister successively, beginning with the youngest, did

handle one and the same part of scripture, spending severally some

quarter of an hour or better, and in the whole, some two hours; and so

the exercise being begun and concluded with prayer, and the president

giving a text for the next meeting, the assembly was dissolved; and

this was, as I take it, a fortnight's exercise, which in my opinion was

the best way to frame and train up preachers to handle the word of God

as it ought to be handled, that hath been practised. For we see orators

have their declamations; lawyers have their merits; logicians their

sophisms; and every practice of science hath an exercise of erudition

and imitation before men come to the life; only preaching, which is the

worthiest, and wherein it is most dangerous to do amiss, wanteth an

introduction, and is ventured and rushed upon at first."

 

 

DR. DONNE'S PRAYERFUL PUN.

 

Dr. Donne, the Dean of St. Paul's, having married a lady of a rich and

noble family without the consent of the parents, was treated with great

asperity. Having been told by the father that he was to expect no money

from him, the Doctor went home and wrote the following note to him:

"John Donne, Anne Donne, _undone_." This quibble had the desired

effect, and the distressed couple were restored to favour.

 

 

PREPARING FOR THE WORST AND BEST.

 

The historians of dissent record with pride the sedulous preparation of

Dr. Marryat, a tutor who belonged to the Independent body, to make the

best of either of the worlds to come. He was accustomed, we are told,

to sit up at his studies two or three nights in the week, the whole

year over. He learned by heart, at these times, the poets and prophets

of the Old Testament, the Epistles and Apocalypse of the New; and what

he had thus acquired, he sought to retain by careful recitation of them

annually. He had begun to do this while he was yet a young man; when,

"deeply convinced of his sinfulness and misery, he was afraid of

falling into he