Part 24 (1/2)
Though his writings show him to have been an enlightened physician for his time, his system of practice was not of course free from the violent measures which were universally believed in during the last century. He used to say of himself,
”When patients sick to me apply, I physics, bleeds and sweats 'em; Then--if they choose to die, What's that to me--I lets 'em.”--(I. Lettsom.)
But his prescriptions were not invariably of a kind calculated to depress the system of his patient. On one occasion an old American merchant, who had been ruined by the rupture between the colonies and the mother country, requested his attendance and professional advice.
The unfortunate man was seventy-four years of age, and bowed down with the weight of his calamities.
”Those trees, doctor,” said the sick man, looking out of his bed-room window over his lawn, ”I planted, and have lived to see some of them too old to bear fruit; they are part of my family: and my children, still dearer to me, must quit this residence, which was the delight of my youth, and the hope of my old age.”
The Quaker physician was deeply affected by these pathetic words, and the impressive tone with which they were uttered. He spoke a few words of comfort, and quitted the room, leaving on the table as his prescription--a cheque for a large sum of money. Nor did his goodness end there. He purchased the house of his patient's creditors, and presented it to him for life.
As Lettsom was travelling in the neighbourhood of London, a highwayman stopped his carriage, and, putting a pistol into the window, demanded him to surrender his money. The faltering voice and hesitation of the robber showed that he had only recently taken to his perilous vocation, and his appearance showed him to be a young man who had moved in the gentle ranks of life. Lettsom quickly responded that he was sorry to see such a well-looking young man pursuing a course which would inevitably bring him to ruin; that he would _give_ him freely all the money he had about him, and would try to put him in a better way of life, if he liked to call on him in the course of a few days.
As the doctor said this, he gave his card to the young man, who turned out to be another victim of the American war. He had only made one similar attempt on the road before, and had been driven to lawless action by unexpected pennilessness. Lettsom endeavoured in vain to procure aid for his _prot?g?_ from the commissioners for relieving the American sufferers; but eventually the Queen, interested in the young man's case, presented him with a commission in the army; and in a brief military career, that was cut short by yellow fever in the West Indies, he distinguished himself so much that his name appeared twice in the _Gazette_.
On one of his benevolent excursions the doctor found his way into the squalid garret of a poor woman who had seen better days. With the language and deportment of a lady she begged the physician to give her a prescription. After inquiring carefully into her case, he wrote on a slip of paper to the overseers of the parish--
”A s.h.i.+lling per diem for Mrs Moreton. Money, not physic, will cure her.
”LETTSOM.”
Of all Lettsom's numerous works, including his contributions to the _Gentleman's Magazine_, under the signature of ”Mottles,” the anagram of his own name, the one most known to the general reader, is the ”History of some of the Effects of Hard Drinking.” It concludes with a scale of Temperance and Intemperance, in imitation of a thermometer.
To each of the two conditions seventy degrees are allotted. Against the seventieth (or highest) degree of Temperance is marked ”Water,”
under which, at distances of ten degrees, follow ”Milk-and-Water,”
”Small Beer,” ”Cyder and Perry,” ”Wine,” ”Porter,” ”Strong Beer.” The tenth degree of Intemperance is ”Punch”; the twentieth, ”Toddy and Crank”; the thirtieth, ”Grog and Brandy and Water”; the fortieth, ”Flip and Shrub”; the fiftieth, ”Bitters infused in Spirits, Usquebaugh, Hysteric Water”; the sixtieth, ”Gin, Aniseed, Brandy, Rum, and Whisky,” in the morning; the seventieth, like the sixtieth, only taken day and night. Then follow, in tabular order, the vices, diseases, and punishments of the different stages of Intemperance. The mere enumeration of them ought to keep the most confirmed toper sober for the rest of his days:--
”_Vices._--Idleness, Peevishness, Quarrelling, Fighting, Lying, Swearing, Obscenity, Swindling, Perjury, Burglary, Murder, Suicide.
”_Diseases._--Sickness, Tremors of the Hands in the Morning, Bloatedness, Inflamed Eyes, Red Nose and Face, Sore and Swelled Legs, Jaundice, Pains in the Limbs, Dropsy, Epilepsy, Melancholy, Madness, Palsy, Apoplexy, Death.
”_Punishments._--Debt, Black Eyes, Rags, Hunger, Hospital, Poor-house, Jail, Whipping, the Hulks, Botany Bay, Gallows!”
This reads like Hogarth's Gin Lane.
CHAPTER XX.
A FEW MORE QUACKS.
The term quack is applicable to all who, by pompous pretences, mean insinuations, and indirect promises, endeavour to obtain that confidence to which neither education, merit, nor experience ent.i.tles them.--_Samuel Parr's Definition._
Of London's modern quacks, one of the most daring was James Graham, M.
D., of Edinburgh, who introduced into England the juggleries of Mesmer, profiting by them in this country scarcely less than his master did on the Continent. His brother married Catherine Macaulay, the author of the immortal History of England, which no one now-a-days reads; the admired of Horace Walpole; the lady whose statue during her life-time, was erected in the chancel of the church of St. Stephen's, Walbrook. Graham's sister was married to Dr. Arnold, of Leicester, the author of a valuable book on Insanity.
With a little intellect and more knavery, Dr. Graham ran a course very similar to Mesmer. Emerging from obscurity in or about the year 1780, he established himself in a s.p.a.cious mansion in the Royal Terrace, Adelphi, overlooking the Thames, and midway between the Blackfriars and Westminster Bridges. The river front of the house was ornamented with cla.s.sic pillars; and inscribed over the princ.i.p.al entrance, in gilt letters on a white compartment, was ”Templum ?sculapio Sacrum.”
The ”Temple of Health,” as it was usually spoken of in London, quickly became a place of fas.h.i.+onable resort. Its s.p.a.cious rooms were supplied with furniture made to be stared at--sphynxes, dragons breathing flame, marble statues, paintings, medico-electric apparatus, rich curtains and draperies, stained gla.s.s windows, stands of armour, immense pillars and globes of gla.s.s, and remarkably arranged plates of burnished steel. Luxurious couches were arranged in the recesses of the apartments, whereon languid visitors were invited to rest; whilst the senses were fascinated with strains of gentle music, and the perfumes of spices burnt in swinging censers. The most sacred shrine of the edifice stood in the centre of ”The Great Apollo Apartment,”
described by the magician in the following terms:--”This room is upwards of thirty feet long, by twenty wide, and full fifteen feet high in the ceiling; on entering which, words can convey no adequate idea of the astonishment and awful sublimity which seizes the mind of every spectator. The first object which strikes the eye, astonishes, expands, and enn.o.bles the soul of the beholder, is a magnificent temple, sacred to health, and dedicated to Apollo. In this tremendous edifice are combined or singly dispensed the irresistible and salubrious influences of electricity, or the elementary fire, air, and magnetism; three of the greatest of those agents of universal principles, which, pervading all created being and substances that we are acquainted with, connect, animate, and keep together all nature;--or, in other words, principles which const.i.tute, as it were, the various faculties of the material soul of the universe: _the Eternally Supreme Jehovah Himself_ being the essential source--the Life of that Life--the Agent of those Agents--the Soul of that Soul--the All-creating, all-sustaining, all-blessing G.o.d!--not of this world alone--not of the other still greater worlds which we know compose our solar system! Not the creator, the soul, the preserver of this world alone--or of any of those which we have seen roll with uninterrupted harmony for so many thousands of years!--not the G.o.d of the millions of myriads of worlds, of systems, and of various ranks and orders of beings and intelligences which probably compose the aggregate of the grand, the vast, the incomprehensible system of the universe!--but the eternal, infinitely wise, and infinitely powerful, infinitely good G.o.d of the whole--the Great Sun of the Universe!”
This blasphemy was regarded in Bond Street and Mayfair as inspired wisdom. It was held to be wicked not to believe in Dr. Graham. The ”Temple” was crowded with the n.o.ble and wealthy; and Graham, mingling the madness of a religious enthusiast with the craft of a charlatan, preached to his visitors and prayed over them with the zeal of Joanna Southcote. He composed a form of prayer to be used in the Temple, called ”the Christian's Universal Prayer,” a long rigmarole of spasmodic nonsense, to the printed edition of which the author affixed the following note: ”The first idea of writing this prayer was suggested by hearing, one evening, the celebrated Mr Fischer play on the hautboy, with inimitable sweetness, _his long-winded_ variations on some old tunes. I was desirous to know what effect that would have when extended to literary composition. I made the experiment as soon as I got home, on the Lord's Prayer, and wrote the following in bed, before morning:”