to commence harvest by wheat reaping, I received a message from my father,
to say he wished to see me, as he was not well. I enquired of the servant
whether my father was seriously indisposed, and I received for answer that
he had kept his bed all day. At this season of the year, I had generally a
horse standing saddled in the stable, and although my dinner was just
going upon the table, I mounted, and having desired my family not to wait
for me, I appeared at my father's bed-side, who lived at a distance of two
miles from Widdington, in less time than that in which many persons who
were called active would have put on their boots and changed their coat. I
had always been bred up to act with decision, and make all my movements in
quick time; and as the servant had also made no delay, my father expressed
his surprise and pleasure at the rapidity with which I had attended to his
wish. I found him flushed in the face, and with a strong quick pulse. He
told me that be had had the misfortune to run a thorn in his leg as he was
getting through a hedge the day before, that he had endeavoured in vain to
extract it, that it had caused him considerable pain, and had brought on
so much fever in the night as to produce delirium. He had had it fomented
in the morning, and was in hopes that he was better, but now the
inflammation was so much increased that he was fearful of another restless
night. I begged to see his leg, and I found it to be so much inflamed,
that I wished him immediately to send for the family surgeon, or some
better advice. He answered that, if he were not better, he would in the
morning. In the mean time, he requested me to look round his farms, and
attend to his servants. I told him that I would most cheerfully do so, but
that I must entreat him to let me send for some medical man. I had no
opinion of our family surgeon, yet I thought, as he was a man of very
extensive practice, that he would, at any rate, give my father something
to abate the irritation and fever, without the possibility of doing harm.
As my father would not consent to have any other person sent for, it was
agreed that I should dispatch a messenger to Pewsey, a distance of five
miles, while I rode round his farm, to see what the servants were doing.
As soon as I got down stairs I mounted my horse, and, not choosing to
trust to the uncertainty of sending a servant, I galloped the five miles
in about twenty minutes. The doctor was from home, but I soon traced him
out, and by intreaty I got him to make his old mare put her "best leg
before," and he was in a very short time in my father's bed room. After
having heard his statement, and examined his leg, he recommended bleeding,
which was immediately performed. Young and inexperienced as I was, I
suggested the propriety of some cooling cathartick; but our doctor said
no; my father required sleep, he must take a little warm gruel, and he
would send him some physick in the morning. As my father felt drowsy, he
requested me to go home; and hoping that he should have a better night, he
requested that I would look after his business next day, and that I would
come and see him in the forenoon. He had a most excellent nurse in my
eldest sister, who was his housekeeper; and I left him I own without any
sanguine hopes of finding him much better in the morning, although I did
not apprehend that any thing very serious was likely to arise from his
accident.
When I got home, I told my wife that I was fearful my father was laid up
for the harvest, and I must have her assistance more amongst my servants
than I had before required of her, as I was convinced that I should have
to attend to the whole of my father's large and extensive business as well
as my own, and I must make my arrangements accordingly. Instead of waiting
for the forenoon, I called upon my father before 4 o'clock the next
morning. When I reached his house my sister was up; she had not been in
bed since I saw her; my poor father's leg had been very painful all night,
and his fever had again occasioned delirium. I found him in a burning
fever, and his inflammation alarmingly increased in his leg: since I left
him, he had not, he told me, slept a single moment. I at once proposed to
have better advice, and urged the necessity of procuring that advice in
time. But who should we get? I recommended my surgeon, Mr. Robert Clare of
Devizes. My father had always professed an objection to him, because he
said he was a drinking profligate character, but I pleaded that he was an
intelligent surgeon, and I soon got over my father's scruples, which I had
no sooner done than I was for effecting the object. Devizes was twelve
miles distant, but with me the greater the distance the less delay was to
be made. I therefore ordered a trustworthy servant to do his best to
manage the business, and I was at Devizes and had called the doctor up and
was at breakfast before the clock struck six. In ten minutes after that
time our horses were at the door, and the proper medicines being prepared,
I had them in my pocket and was mounted. Mr. Clare's foot was also in his
stirrup, and, he was giving some directions to his assistant, when a man
came galloping up to the door with one of his hands wrapped up in a
handkerchief, streaming with blood. We enquired what was the matter, to
which he replied that he was a birdkeeper, and that wishing to draw a
charge of shot he had held the gun upside down, with the intent to shake
the shot into his hand; but by some accident the gun had gone off, and the
charge had passed through the middle of his hand. At this moment up came
another man on horseback, to say that a neighbouring lady was taken in
labour, and that the doctor or his assistant must come that moment, as
"'twas missusses vust child, and mayster was vrightened out of his
senses." Clare dispatched Duffet his assistant off to the good lady in the
straw; and then said, "Harry, if you will get off your horse and assist
me, we will manage matters for this poor fellow." "Ah," said the man,
"_cut off my hand_ as quick as you can, sir, for I have left all the rooks
eating my master's corn, and I long to get back again to send them about
their business." The doctor smiled as he unbound his hand, which was in a
most shocking mangled state. Instead of proceeding to amputate the hand,
the doctor, after having washed it in warm water, informed him that he
would save his thumb and little finger, if he would stand steady while he
took off the three middle fingers. "Very well, sir, if you please, but be
sharp," was his reply.--I held his arm, and Mr. Clare, who was a skilful
surgeon, in a very few minutes took out the three middle fingers nearly up
to the wrist, and having bound up the wound and pressed the thumb and
little finger nearly together, he desired the man to ride slowly home, and
told him that he would see him again on his return from my father.
The doctor always rode excellent horses, and having mounted one of his
very best, and the road lying over the Downs, we arrived at my father's
house twenty minutes before eight o'clock. I had already ridden a distance
of twenty-six miles. Mr. Clare having examined my father's leg, pronounced
the case to be a serious one, and at once recommended that Mr. Grant, an
eminent surgeon of Bath, should be called in, as well as Dr. Hill a
physician, (for form's sake) from Devizes. He said to my father, whom he
knew to be a man of an uncommonly firm mind, "I know you will not be
alarmed, Sir, but we must have good advice and assistance, or your leg is
in such a state that I fear amputation may be necessary. I have therefore
desired your son to send or go for Mr. Grant, of Bath, to assist me, who
is one of the most eminent men in the profession." My father firmly
replied, "if you think, Sir, that it is absolutely necessary, never wait
for Mr. Grant, but take off my leg at once."--"No, Sir," replied Clare, "I
shall not advise that at present. I will do all that is necessary for you
now; but let your son depart for Mr. Grant immediately. I know your son's
expedition, and I know that he will be more likely to prevail upon Mr.
Grant to come than any one we can send. In the mean time I will bring over
Dr. Hill from Devizes, and see you in the afternoon."
This was so settled, and without delay I had changed my horse and galloped
back to Devizes; with Mr. Clare, in my way to Bath. As we passed along he
informed me, seriously, that my father was not merely in a dangerous
state, but that he had not even the slightest hopes of his recovery. I was
thunder-struck; I had hardly ever thought of such a thing. My father, at
the age of 63, was one of the most healthy, vigorous, active men in the
kingdom, and had scarcely ever had a day's serious illness in his life. To
see him walk, ride, mount his horse, or in fact do any thing; he was so
active, so alert, that his motions were more like a youth of eighteen or
twenty than those of an old man; and to look upon him, no one would guess
his age to be much above forty, though his hair lead been as white as the
driven snow for years. The truth was, that he had all his life been an
active, temperate, prudent man, and at the age of sixty his constitution
had never received a single shock. I have often heard him say, that he had
never been ill since he had the small pox, which he caught in the natural
way, when a boy at the age of eight years. In the drawing-room, he
frequently shamed myself, as well as all the young men of the village; for
he was the most polite and attentive man I ever saw. If a lady dropped her
fan, her shawl, her handkerchief, nay even a pin, he was the first to
spring to her aid and pick it up; and this he would do in less time than
one of our modern yawning, lounging, dandies would take to drawl out "pray
Maam shall I have the honour, &c." He would take a cheerful bottle, and
make one of the merriest of the gayest party, but never to excess; for he
was arrived at that time of life that he knew how to enjoy every pleasure
in moderation. He had acquired wealth sufficient for all his wants, and
enough to assist a friend; and, where he had a confidence, he was
unlimited in his generosity. If he saw a man persecuted unjustly, he was
sure to become his friend. In one respect this had led him into a great
error, he having advanced to a brewer of Bath as much as seven thousand
pounds, without much better than personal security. He had the finest
farms in that part of the county, and they were cultivated like gardens;
no man was surrounded with brighter prospects, or was possessed of greater
worldly blessings; and When Mr. Clare seriously told me that he had no
hopes of his recovery, I was absolutely overpowered with astonishment and
anguish, and was incapable of uttering a single sentence. "If," said he,
"your father ever recovers it will be a miracle; it is too late to attempt
amputation. If I had seen him yesterday, before he was bled, his life
might have been saved; but my opinion is, that if the Pewsey doctor had
taken a pistol and shot him through the head, he would not have been more
instrumental to his death than he was at the moment when he took a pound
of blood from him in the state in which his leg must have been last night.
Between you and I, he is a murdered man, and I do not believe that all the
surgeons on earth can save him without a miracle; but we must see what can
be done. I know you will not be long riding the thirty miles, to Bath.
When you return, call at my house, and leave word at what time Mr. Grant
will come, and I will accompany him to Littlecot, either to-night or
to-morrow morning. As you go through Devizes call likewise upon old Hill
the physician, and make him ride over this afternoon. We must let him earn
a guinea or two, as he wants it badly enough, and there is no chance of
his doing any harm, for he will not venture to alter what I have ordered,
unless I am present. As soon as Grant comes we will do our best; though I
assure you I cannot give you any hopes."
As I had to ride a distance of sixty miles, I calculated the time I should
be on the road, and as I was to go thither and back on the same horse, and
it was very hot weather, I somewhat slackened my pace, that I might not
knock up the poor animal. As I passed through Devizes, I left word for Dr.
Hill to repair immediately to my father's; and without loosing one single
moment for my own refreshment, I reached my friend's, at the brewery in
Walcot Street, a few minutes before one o'clock, having come the thirty
miles in some thing less than three hours. Two men were instantly set to
clean and refresh my horse, to prepare him for my return, while I hastened
to find Mr. Grant. He was visiting his patients, for he at that time had
the best practice in Bath. Seeing my distress, his servant readily
accompanied me to that part of the town where he was most likely to meet
with his master; and we soon found the doctor, coming out of a gentleman's
house in Brock Street.[21] Upon my accosting him with considerable
earnestness and agitation, he invited me to return with him into the
house, where I informed him of my earnest desire that he should proceed
forthwith, in a chaise and four, to see, and if possible, save my father.
To this pressing application he replied that, sorry as he was to be
obliged to refuse, he must nevertheless do so, it being impracticable for
him to leave Bath; but he added, that his old friend, Bob Clare, was as
able a man, and as good a judge how to proceed in such a case, as himself
or any surgeon or physician in England. I urged that it was Mr. Clare's
most particular wish that he should come; that Mr. Clare had not time to
write, or he would have explained that it was a peculiar case. I then
described it, together with the symptoms, as well as I could. He shook his
head, and said at once, "I fear, if I could go, that I should be too late.
That Pewsey doctor can kill much easier than I can cure. The taking of
blood away at such a moment was most stupid, it was most damnable; he
ought to have put blood into him, instead of taking it away. I fear, after
that, there is no hopes. What says Bob Clare?" "I am sorry to say, sir,
that you are too well agreed in your opinion; but for God's sake lose no
time to fly and do your utmost to save the best of parents." He repeated
that it was impossible; for that he had the most important engagements
that evening, to break which would never be pardoned, either by his
patients, or by the medical men who were coming over, one of them from
Clifton, on purpose to meet him. He said, however, that he would recommend
me to a friend, who would, perhaps, be able to attend me; and he assured
me that he was a very clever man, quite as capable as himself in such an
affair. No, this would not do for me; Mr. Clare wished the assistance of
Mr. Grant, and I would not accept of any one else. I implored, I wept,
and, in agony of supplication, I knelt and seized his knees, declaring
that I would not loose my hold till he had promised to go to see my
father. I offered him any sum that he might demand, and assured him that I
would engage to procure such post horses, as would take him there and back
in six hours. He gazed upon me with astonishment. At length be exclaimed,
"your uncommon filial piety has triumphed. No money should have induced me
to leave Bath under my present circumstances; but such devotedness, such
unfeigned and unusual affection in a son for a father, I never before
witnessed:" and turning round to the lady of the house, who, with her two
daughters, had been drawn to the spot by my raving agony, he said, "I
should be for ever ashamed of myself if I did not yield to the prayers of
such unbounded filial affection."--Then addressing me, "return," said he,
"my young friend, and inform Clare that I will take him up in the morning
at six o'clock, and we will be at your father's before eight. I see that
you think there is great delay in this, but nothing on earth could induce
me to leave Bath before I have seen my patients here. I have an important
engagement, a consultation, which will not be concluded before one in the
morning. Instead of going to bed, I will start at two in a chaise with
four horses, and will be at Devizes by six; and do you take care that Bob
is ready, so as not to keep me waiting, for I shall be there to a minute."
I could not help sighing, and looking doubtfully, and as he took my hand,
I said, "are you sure that you will come? Are you sure that nothing will
prevent you?" "My good lad," he replied, "in our profession we are so
often put in mind of the uncertainty of life, that we are sure of nothing
but _death_. But this you may rely upon, that if I am alive and able to
come, I will be at Devizes at six o'clock, and at your father's by eight."
I thanked him most earnestly, and enquired if I could do any thing to
forward his good intention, by hiring or bespeaking the horses for his
carriage. To this enquiry he replied, that his servant would take care of
that; but that I might order horses to be ready for him at Devizes. I
consequently assured him that four of the best post horses in the kingdom
should be ready and waiting for him at Mr. Clare's door, by the time he
arrived there; and this I could safely promise, as I had the interest to
procure such from the Bear Inn. I now took leave of him, and he gave me
the most friendly salutation; and so did the lady and her two daughters,
who had looked and listened to my entreaties with a great degree of
interest. Nor had they confined themselves to silent good wishes, for they
had most fervently joined in supplicating the doctor to comply with my
request; and they now expressed their earnest hopes for the recovery of my
father; which was balm to my ears.
I returned to my friend's, where I had left my horse; and, having taken
some slight refreshment, I proceeded without loss of time towards home.
Such a melancholy journey I never took before, nor have ever taken since!
My mind was wholly absorbed in the reflection that it was possible I
should so soon lose the best of fathers, of whose real value I seemed
never to have had a true estimation till now that I felt the dread of
losing him. A thousand sad forebodings hurried across my brain, and I
began already to feel that I had lost the best, the truest and the most
sincere friend whom I had in the world. Thus it is with poor weak mortals;
they seldom know how to appreciate the most inestimable blessings, till
they are in danger of being deprived of them! In this sad state I soon
reached Devizes, a distance of nineteen miles, on my return, scarcely
having noticed any of the objects which I had passed. I called upon Mr.
Clare, and left a note for him, to be ready by six o'clock in the morning,
and I ordered four of the best post horses at the Bear to be in waiting at
Mr. Clare's door at that hour. Then, without making any other delay, I
spurred forward, and reached my father's house within a few minutes of
three o'clock. I found him much in the same state as when I left him at
eight in the morning. My journey to Bath and back, _sixty miles_, I had
completed including my stay there, in seven hours; having now ridden, in
the whole, upon two horses, a distance of eighty-six miles.
My poor father, who had been anxiously expecting my return, expressed
great satisfaction at my speed; and taking my hand, he said, "Ah! you are
a generous, kind-hearted soul. I told your sister that, if you could find
Mr. Grant in any reasonable time, you would return by three o'clock. I
knew the horse would carry you the sixty miles in six hours; and I also
knew that nothing on earth would delay you when your father's health,
probably his life, was at stake. Well," added he, "what says Mr. Grant,
will he come?" "Yes, sir, he will be here by eight o'clock in the morning
or before; in the mean while, I find that Mr. Clare has ordered you to
take some medicine that he has sent." "And has he not ordered any thing to
be done to my leg; no fomentation or any other thing?" "No, sir." "Why
then," said he, "I fear he gives it up for lost; because, unless something
is done to stop the inflammation that is going on there, a mortification
must follow"--and having said these words he sunk back upon his pillow,
resigned and composed. His leg was not quite so painful as it had been;
for the fact was, that mortification had actually taken place, when Mr.
Clare first saw it in the morning.
My father now said that, after my very great exertion, in riding such a
distance, which he had reckoned up, while I was gone, as being eighty-six
miles, rest must be necessary for me; and he therefore did not choose that
I should ride any farther, for fear I should make myself ill also;
otherwise, he felt a great desire to know how the reaping went on, as
neither of us had seen the reapers since they began. I gaily told him I
was not at all exhausted; and that if such a thing could in the least add
to his pleasure or his comfort, I knew that I could ride to Bath and back
again without any difficulty. I added, that as to the reapers, I had
anticipated what would be his wish, and consequently, before I came in, I
had ordered the saddle to be put upon his horse; and, after my sister had
given me some tea, I intended to see all the reapers, both upon his farms
and my own--"Ah, my dear son!" he replied, "it must be all yours during
this harvest at any rate; no cure that can be performed upon me will
enable me to get about during this harvest. I am delighted with your
alacrity to please me; and, as I have full confidence in you, and know
your capability, I shall not give myself one moment's uneasiness about the
business."
Having taken some tea with my father and sister, I mounted the third
horse, and rode round the fields, and saw every one of the reapers and
other servants. I recollect that there were seventy-six reapers at work in
my father's fields, and twenty-eight in mine, making in the whole one
hundred and four persons, who had that day begun reaping our wheat crop,
which was remarkably fine. I had an opportunity, for the first time since
I left home, which was about half-past three in the morning, to call and
see my wife; of whom I had not had a sight, though I had passed by the
house both in going and returning to Devizes and back, and to Bath and
back, four times during the day. I informed her of the true situation of
my father, and told her that I should return and sit up with him all
night.
By the time I had performed my task it was between nine and ten o'clock,
and I had literally tired the third horse. My poor father objected so
strongly to my sitting up, that about twelve o'clock I retired to an
adjoining room to rest myself, but to sleep I found it impossible. I rose
again at four, and after I had enquired how he had passed the night, I
rode again round the farms more to pass away the hours previous to the
arrival of the surgeons and the physician than for any other purpose. A
little before eight, according to their appointment, they drove into the
yard in Mr. Grant's chariot with four horses. Oh God! what a moment for
me! I shall never forget the agitated state of my mind, divided as it was
between hope and fear. At the same instant that I hastened them to the
bed-room of my father, I would have given any thing to have delayed the
fatal, much-dreaded decision. But no time was to be lost. Seeing the agony
in which I stood speechless before them, Mr. Grant took me by the hand,
and said, "my good young friend, you must exert all your courage, and be
prepared for the worst; my old friend Clare has given me such a
description of your father's leg, that I have no hopes of a favourable
result." Old Dr. Hill, the physician, now said, "come! come! Mr. Grant, do
you bear up; do not make the young man down-hearted, "there are a great
many slips between the cup and the lip." It is not so bad as you imagine."
Good Heaven! what a strong recollection I at this moment have, of the look
of scorn and contempt which Mr. Grant bestowed upon the old Devizes
physician! He did not utter a word, but his look was enough.