Part 10 (2/2)
By Remittency, I mean th' ebb of Disease, by Perriodicity, th' ebb and also the flow, the paroxysm and the remission. These remit and recur, and keep tune like the tides, not in ague and remittent fever only, as the Profission imagines to this day, but in all diseases from a Scirrhus in the Pylorus t' a toothache. And I discovered this, and the new path to cure of all diseases it opens. Alone I did it; and what my reward?
Hooted, insulted, belied, and called a quack by the banded school of profissional a.s.sa.s.sins, who, in their day hooted Harvey and Jinner--authors too of great discoveries, but discoveries narrow in their consequences compared with mine. T' appreciate Chronothairmalism, ye must begin at the beginning; so just answer me--What is man?”
At this huge inquiry whirring tip all in a moment, like a c.o.c.k-pheasant in a wood, Mrs. Dodd sank back in her chair despondent. Seeing her _hors de combat,_ Sampson turned to Julia and demanded, twice as loud, ”WHAT IS MAN?” Julia opened two violet eyes at him, and then looked at her mother for a hint how to proceed.
”How can that child answer such a question?” sighed Mrs. Dodd. ”Let us return to the point.”
”I have never strayed an inch from it. It's about 'Young Physic.'”
”No, excuse me, it is about a young lady. Universal Medicine: what have I to do with that?”
”Now this is the way with them all,” cried Sampson, furious; ”there lowed John Bull. The men and women of this benighted nas.h.i.+n have an ear for anything, provided it matters nothing: talk Jology, Conchology, Entomology, Theology, Meteorology, Astronomy, Deuteronomy, Botheronomy, or Boshology, and one is listened to with rivirence, because these are all far-off things in fogs; but at a word about the great, near, useful art of Healing, y'all stop your ears; for why? your life and dailianhourly happiness depend on it. But 'no,' sis John Bull, the knowledge of our own buddies, and how to save our own Bakin--Beef I mean--day by day, from disease and chartered a.s.s-a.s.s-ins, all that may interest the thinkers in Saturn, but what the deevil is it t' _us?_ Talk t' _us_ of the hiv'nly buddies, not of our own; babble o' comets an'
meteors an' Ethereal nibulae (never mind the nibulae in our own skulls).
Discourse t' us of Predistinas.h.i.+n, Spitzbairgen seaweed, the last novel, the siventh vile; of Chrisehinising the Patagonians on condition they are not to come here and Chrischinise the Whitechapelians; of the letter to the _Times_ from the tinker wrecked at Timbuctoo; and the dear Professor's lecture on the probabeelity of snail-sh.e.l.ls in the backyard of the moon: but don't ask us to know ourselves--Ijjits!!”
The eloquent speaker, depressed by the perversity of Englishmen in giving their minds to every part of creation but their bodies, suffered a momentary loss of energy; then Mrs. Dodd, who had long been watching lynx-like, glided in. ”Let us compound. You are for curing all the world, beginning with n.o.body. My ambition is to cure _my girl,_ and leave mankind in peace. Now, if you will begin with _my Julia,_ I will submit to rectify the universe in its proper turn. Any time will do to set the human race right; you own it is in no hurry: but _my child's_ case presses; so do pray cure her for me. Or at least tell me what her Indisposition is.”
”Oh! What! didn't I tell you? Well, there's nothing the matter with her.”
At receiving this cavalier reply for the reward of all her patience, Mrs. Dodd was so hurt, and so nearly angry, that she rose with dignity from her seat, her cheek actually pink, and the water in her eyes.
Sampson saw she was ruffled, and appealed to Julia--of all people.
”There now, Miss Julia,” said he, ruefully; ”she is in a rage because I won't humbug her. Poplus voolt decipee. I tell you, ma'am, it is not a midical case. Give me disease and I'll cure 't. Stop, I'll tell ye what do: let her take and swallow the Barkton Docks' prescriptions, and Butcher Best's, and canting Kinyon's, and after those four tinkers there'll be plenty holes to mend; then send for me!”
Here was irony. Mrs. Dodd retorted by _finesse._ She turned on him with a treacherous smile, and said: ”Never mind doctors and patients; it is so long since we met; I do hope you will waive ceremony, and dine with me _en ami._”
He accepted with pleasure; but must return to his inn first and get rid of his dirty boots and pas.h.i.+nts. And with this he whipped out his watch, and saw that, dealing with universal medicine, he had disappointed more than one sick individual; so shot out as hard as he had shot in, and left the ladies looking at one another after the phenomenon.
”Well?” said Julia, with a world of meaning.
”Yes, dear,” replied Mrs. Dodd, ”he _is_ a little eccentric. I think I will request them to make some addition to the dinner.”
”No, mamma, if you please, not to put me off so transparently. If I had interrupted, and shouted, and behaved so, you would have packed _me_ off to bed, or somewhere, directly.”
”Don't say 'packed,' love. Dismissed me to bed.”
”Ah!” cried Julia, ”that privileged person is gone, and we must all mind our P's and Q's once more.”
Mrs. Dodd, with an air of nonchalance, replied to the effect that Dr.
Sampson was not her offspring, and so she was not bound to correct his eccentricities. ”And I suppose,” said she, languidly, ”we must accept these extraordinary people as we find them. But that is no reason why _you_ should say 'P's and Q's,' darling.”
That day her hospitable board was spread over a trap. Blessed with an oracle irrelevantly fluent, and dumb to the point, she had asked him to dinner with maternal address. He could not be on his guard eternally; sooner or later, through inadvertence, or in a moment of convivial recklessness, or in a parenthesis of some grand Generality, he would cure her child: or, perhaps, at his rate of talking, would wear out all his idle themes, down to the very ”well-being of mankind;” and them Julia's mysterious indisposition would come on the blank tapis. With these secret hopes she presided at the feast, all grace and gentle amity. Julia, too, sat down with a little design, but a very different one, viz., of being chilly company; for she disliked this new acquaintance, and hated the science of medicine.
The unconscious Object chatted away with both, and cut their replies very short, and did strange things: sent away Julia's chicken, regardless of her scorn, and prescribed mutton; called for champagne and made her drink it and pout; and thus excited Mrs. Dodd's hopes that he was attending to the case by degrees.
But after dinner, Julia, to escape medicine universal and particular, turned to her mother, and dilated on treachery of her literary guide, the _Criticaster._ ”It said 'Odds and Ends' was a good novel to read by the seaside. So I thought then oh! how different it must be from most books, if you can sit by the glorious sea and even look at it. So I sent for it directly, and, would you believe, it was an ign.o.ble thing; all flirtations and curates. The sea indeed! A pond would be fitter to read it by; and one with a good many geese on.”
”Was ever such simplicity!” said Mrs. Dodd. ”Why, my dear, that phrase about the sea does not _mean_ anything. I shall have you believing that Mr. So-and-So, a novelist, can _'wither fas.h.i.+onable folly,'_ and that _'a painful incident'_ to one shopkeeper has _'thrown a gloom'_ over a whole market-town, and so on. Now-a-days every third phrase is of this character; a starling's note. Once, it appears, there was an age of gold, and then came one of iron, and then of bra.s.s. All these are gone, and the age of 'jargon' has succeeded.”
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