Part 27 (1/2)

Lettsom, loose-living man though he was for a member of the Society of Friends, had enough of the Quaker element in him to be very fond of controversy. He dearly loved to expose quackery, and in some cases did good service in that way. In the _Medical Journal_ he attacked, A. D.

1806, no less a man than Brodum, the proprietor of the Nervous Cordial, avowing that that precious compound had killed thousands; and also stating that Brodum had added to the crime of wholesale murder the atrocities of having been born a Jew, of having been a shoe-black in Copenhagen, and of having at some period of his chequered career carried on an ign.o.ble trade in oranges. Of course Brodum saw his advantage. He immediately brought an action against Phillips, the proprietor of the _Medical Journal_, laying his damages at ?5000. The lawyers antic.i.p.ated a harvest from the case, and were proceeding not only against Phillips, but various newsvendors also, when a newspaper editor stept in between Phillips and Brodum, and contrived to settle the dispute. Brodum's terms were not modest ones. He consented to withdraw his actions, if the name of the author was given up, and if the author would whitewash him in the next number of the Journal, under the same signature. Lettsom consented, paid the two attorneys'

bills, amounting to ?390, and wrote the required puff of Brodum and his Nervous Cordial.

One of the singular characters of Dublin, a generation ago, was John Brenan, M.D., a physician who edited the _Milesian Magazine_, a scurrilous publication of the satirist cla.s.s, that flung dirt on every one dignified enough for the mob to take pleasure in seeing him bespattered with filth. The man certainly was a great blackguard, but was not dest.i.tute of wit. How he carried on the war with the members of his own profession the following song will show:--

”THE DUBLIN DOCTORS.

”My gentle muse, do not refuse To sing the Dublin Doctors, O; For they're the boys Who make the joys Of grave-diggers and proctors, O.

We'll take 'em in procession, O, We'll take 'em in succession, O; But how shall we Say who is he Shall lead the grand procession, O?

Least wit and greatest malice, O, Least wit and greatest malice, O, Shall mark the man Who leads the van, As they march to the gallows, O.

First come then, Doctor Big Paw, O, Come first then, Doctor Big Paw, O; Mrs Kilfoyle Says you would spoil Its shape, did you her wig paw, O.

Come next, dull Dr Labat, O, Come next, dull Dr Labat, O; Why is it so, You kill the doe, Whene'er you catch the rabbit, O?

Come, Harvey, drunken dandy, O, Come, Harvey, drunken dandy, O; Thee I could paint A walking saint, If you lov'd G.o.d like brandy, O.

Come next, Doctor Drumsnuffle, O, Come next, Doctor Drumsnuffle, O; Well stuffed with lead, Your leather head Is thick as hide of Buffaloe.

Come next, Colossus Jackson, O, Come next, Colossus Jackson, O; As jack-a.s.s mute, A burthen brute, Just fit to trot with packs on, O.

Come next, sweet Paddy Rooney, O, Come next, sweet Paddy Rooney, O; Tho' if you stay Till judgment's day, You'll come a month too soon-y, O.

Come next, sweet Breeny Creepmouse, O, Come next, sweet Breeny Creepmouse, O; Thee heaven gave Just sense to shave A corpse, or an asleep mouse, O.

For I say, creep-mouse Breeny, O, For I say, creep-mouse Breeny, O; Thee I can't sing The fairy's king, But I'll sing you their Queen-y O;

For I say, Dr Breeny, O, For I say, Dr Breeny, O; If I for once Called you a dunce, I'd shew a judgment weeny, O.

Come, Richards dull and brazen, O, Come, Richards dull and brazen, O; A prosperous drone, You stand alone, For wondering sense to gaze on, O.

Then come, you greasy blockhead, O, Then come, you greasy blockhead, O; Balked by your face, We quickly trace, Your genius to your pocket, O.

Come, Crampton, man of capers, O, Come, Crampton, man of capers, O; . . . . .

And come, long Doctor Renney, O, And come, long Doctor Renney, O; If sick I'd fee As soon as thee, Old Arabella Denny, O.

Come, Tandragee Ferguson, O, Come, Tandragee Ferguson, O; Fool, don't recoil, But as your foil Bring Ireland or Puke Hewson, O.

Come, ugly Dr Alman, O, Come, ugly Dr Alman, O; But bring a mask, Or do not ask, When come, that we you call man, O.

Come, Boyton, king of dunces, O, Come, Boyton, king of dunces, O; Who call you knave No lies receive, Nay, that your name each one says, O.

Come, Colles, do come, Aby, O, Come, Colles, do come, Aby, O; Tho' all you tell, You'll make them well, You always 'hould say may be, O.

Come, beastly Dr Toomy, O, Come, beastly Dr Toomy, O; If impudence Was common sense As you no sage ere knew me, O.