The Funny Side of Physic Part 87

[Ill.u.s.tration: DISPUTE OF THE DOCTOR AND VALET.]

Jeaffreson tells the following story of Dr. Brocklesby, also the proprietor of an immense wig. The doctor was suddenly called by the d.u.c.h.ess of Richmond to visit her maid. The doctor was met by the husband of the fair patient, and valet to the duke.

In the hall the doctor and valet fell into a sharp discussion. On the stairs the argument became hotter, for the valet was an intelligent fellow. They became more excited as they neared the sick chamber, which they entered, declaiming at the top of their voices.

The patient was forgotten, though no doubt she lifted her fair head from the pillow to see her undutiful lord disputing with her negligent doctor.

The valet poured in sarcasm and irony by the broadside. The doctor, with true Johnny Bull pluck, replied volley for volley, and the battle lasted for above an hour. The doctor went down stairs, the loquacious valet courteously showing him out, when the two separated on the most amiable terms.

Judge of the doctor's consternation, when, on reaching his own door, the truth flashed across his mind that he had neglected to look at the patient's tongue, feel her pulse, or, more strange, look for his fee. The valet was so ashamed, when he returned to the chamber, that his invalid wife, instead of scolding him, as he deserved, fell into a laughing fit, and forthwith recovered from her sickness.

I have seen many a patient for whom I thought a right hearty laugh would do more good than all the medicine in the shops.

One William--known as "Bill"--Atkins, a gout doctor, used to strut about the streets of London, about 1650, with a huge gold-headed cane in his hand, and a "stunning" big three-tailed wig on his otherwise bare head.

Gout doctoring was profitable in Charles II.'s time.

"Dr. Henry Reynolds, physician to George III., was the Beau Brummell of the faculty, and was the last of the big-wigged and silk-coated doctors.

His dress was superb, consisting of a well-powdered wig, silk coat, velvet breeches, white silk stockings, gold-buckled shoes, gold-headed cane, and immaculate lace ruffles."

Benjamin Franklin had often met and conversed with Reynolds.

FRANKLIN'S COURT DRESS.

Nathaniel Hawthorne relates an anecdote of the origin of Franklin's adoption of the customary civil dress, when going to court as a diplomatist. It was simply that his tailor had disappointed him of his court suit, and he wore his plain one, with great reluctance, because he had no other. Afterwards, gaining great success and praise by his mishap, he continued to wear it from policy. The great American philosopher was as big a humbug as the rest of us.

DR. JENNER'S DRESS.

"When I first saw him," says a writer of his day, "he was dressed in blue coat, yellow b.u.t.tons and waistcoat, buskins, well-polished boots, with handsome silver spurs. His wig, after the fas.h.i.+on, was done up in a club, and he wore a broad-brimmed hat."

AN ANIMATED QUEUE.

An old English gentleman told me an amusing story of a wig. A Dr. Wing, who wore a big wig and a long queue, visited a great lady, who was confined to her bed. The lady's maid was present, having just brought in a bowl of hot gruel. As the old doctor was about to make some remark to the maid, as she held the bowl in her hands, he felt his queue, or tail to his wig, moving, when he turned suddenly round towards the lady, and looking with astonishment at his patient, he said,--

"Madam, were you pulling my tail?"

"Sir!" replied the lady, in equal astonishment and indignation.

Just then the tail gave another flop.

Whirling about like a top whipped by a school-boy, the doctor cried to the maid,--

"Zounds, woman, it was _you_ who pulled my wig!"

"Me, sir!" exclaimed the affrighted lady's maid.

"Yes, you, you hussy!"

"But, I beg your pardon--"

"Thunder and great guns, madam!" And the doctor whirled back on his pivoted heels towards the more astonished lady, who now had risen from her pillow by great effort, and sat in her night dress, gazing in profound terror upon the supposed drunken or insane doctor. Again the wig swung to and fro, like a clock pendulum. Again the old doctor, now all of a lather of sweat, spun round, and accused the girl of playing a "scaly trick" upon his dignified person.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A WIG MOUSE.]

"Sir, do you see that I have both hands full?"

Away went the tail again. The lady saw it moving as though bewitched, and called loudly for help. The greatest consternation prevailed, the doctor alternating his astounded gaze between the two females; when the queue gave a powerful jerk, and out leaped a big mouse, which went plump into the hot porridge. The maid gave a shrill scream, and dropped the hot liquid upon the doctor's silk hose, and fled.

The poor, innocent mouse was dead; the doctor was scalded; the lady was in convulsions--of laughter; when the room was suddenly filled by alarmed domestics, from scullion to valet, and all the ladies and gentlemen of the household.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.]

"What's the matter?" sternly inquired the master of the house, approaching the bed.

"O, dear, dear!" cried the convalescent, "a mouse was in the doctor's wig, and--"

"A mouse!" exclaimed the doctor, jerking the offensive wig from his bald pate. "A d--d mouse! I beg a thousand pardons, madam," turning to the lady, holding the wig by the tail, and giving it a violent shake. He had not seen the mouse jump, and till this moment thought that the lady and maid had conspired to insult him.

A "CHARACTER."

Old Dr. Standish was represented by our authority as "a huge, burly, surly, churlish old fellow, who died at an extremely advanced age in the year 1825.

"He was as unsociable, hoggish an old curmudgeon as ever rode a stout hack. Without a companion, save, occasionally, 'poor Tom, a Thetford breeches maker,' 'he sat every night, for fifty years, in the chief parlor of the Holmnook, in drinking brandy and water, and smoking a "church warden."' Occasionally his wife, 'a quiet, inoffensive little body,' would object to the doctor's ways, and, forgetting that she was a woman, offer an opinion of her own.

"On such occasions, Dr. Standish thrashed her soundly with a dog-whip."

In consequence of too oft repet.i.tion of this unpleasantness, she ran away.

"Standish's mode of riding was characteristic of the man. Straight on he went, at a lumbering, six-miles-an-hour gait, _dash, dash, dash_, through the muddy roads, sitting loosely in his saddle, heavy and shapeless as a bag of potatoes, looking down at his slouchy brown corduroy breeches and clay-colored boots, the toes of which pointed in opposite directions, with a perpetual scowl on his brow, never vouchsafing a word to a living creature.

"'Good morning to you, doctor; 'tis a nice day,' a friendly voice would exclaim.

"'Ugh!' Standish would grunt, while on, _dash, dash, das.h.!.+_ he rode.

"He never turned out for a wayfarer.

"A frolicsome curate, who had met old Standish, and received nothing but a grunt in reply to his urbane greeting, arranged the following plan to make the doctor speak.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MEETING OF THE DOCTOR AND THE CURATE.]

"When riding out one day, he observed Standish coming on with his usual '_dash, dash, dash_,' and stoical look. The clerical gentleman put spurs to his beast, and charged the man of pills and pukes at full tilt. Within three feet of Standish's horse's nose, the young curate reined suddenly up. The doctor's horse, as antic.i.p.ated, came to a dead halt, when the burly body of old Standish rolled into the muddy highway, going clean over the horse's head.

"'Ugh!' grunted the doctor.

"'Good morning,' said the curate, good-humoredly.