Some of the hundreds of respectable medical practitioners of this
democratic country, who, between commencement and the following term, used
to lengthen out their scanty means by "teaching the young idea how to
shoot" in some far-off country village, will scarcely thank me for
introducing the above-named subject to their present notice. However, it
will depend somewhat upon the way they take it; whether, like Sir Davy,
they are ashamed of their "small beginnings," or, like Dr. Monsey, they
may independently snap their fingers in the face of their plebeian origin,
and boast of their earlier common efforts for a better foothold among the
great men of their generation.
Among English physicians, with whom it was, and still is, counted a
disgrace to have been previously known in a more humble calling, we may
find a long list of "doctors pedagogic," beginning with Dr. John Bond, who
taught school until the age of forty, when he turned doctor. He was a man
of great learning, however, and became a successful physician. Even among
the good people of Taunton, where he had resided and labored as a
pedagogue in former years, he was esteemed as a "wise physician."
John Arbuthnot was a "Scotch pedagogue." He was distinguished as a man of
letters and of wit; the associate of Pope and Swift, and of Bolingbroke; a
companion at the court of Queen Anne.
Arbuthnot owed his social elevation to his quick wit, rare conversational
powers, and fascinating address, rather than to his family influence,
professional knowledge, or medical success.
"Dorchester, where, as a young practitioner, he endeavored to establish
himself, utterly refused to give him a living; but it doubtless," says
Jeaffreson, "maintained more than one dull empiric in opulence. Failing to
get a living among the rustic boors, who could appreciate no effort of the
human voice but a fox-hunter's whoop, Arbuthnot packed up and went to
London."
Poverty for a while haunted his door in London, and to keep the wolf away
he was compelled to resort to "the most hateful of all occupations--the
personal instruction of the ignorant."
Arbuthnot was a brilliant writer as well as fluent talker, and by his
literary hit, "Examination of Dr. Woodward's Account of the Deluge," he
was soon brought into notice. By the merest accident and the greatest
fortune he was called to Prince George of Denmark, when his royal highness
was suddenly taken sick, and, as all who fell within the circle of his
magical private acquaintance were led to respect and love him, the doctor
was retained in the good graces of the prince. On the death of Dr. Hannes,
Arbuthnot received the appointment of physician-in-ordinary to the queen.
The polished manner of the fortunate doctor, his handsome person, and
flattering, cordial seeming address, especially to ladies, made him a
court favorite. To retain the good graces of his royal patient, the queen,
"he adopted a tone of affection for her as an individual, as well as a
loyal devotion to her as a queen." His conversation, while it had the
semblance of the utmost frankness, was foaming over with flattery.
"If the queen won't swallow my pills she will my flattery," he is said to
have whispered to his friend Swift; but this report is doubtful, as he
stood in fear of the displeasure of the querulous, crotchety, weak-minded
queen, who had but recently discharged Dr. Radcliffe for a slip of the
tongue, when at the coffee-house he had said she had the "_vapors_."
"What is the hour?" asked the queen of Arbuthnot.
"Whatever hour it may please your majesty," was his characteristic reply,
with his most winning smile and graceful obeisance.
By this sort of flattery he retained his hold in the queen's favor till
her death.
By these facts one is reminded of the saying of Oxenstierna, when, on
concluding the peace of Westphalia in 1648, he sent his young son John as
plenipotentiary to the powers on that occasion, remarking, in presence of
those who expressed their surprise thereat,--
"You do not know with how little wisdom men are governed."
With the loss of the queen's patronage at her death, and his wine-loving
proclivities, Dr. Arbuthnot became sick and poor, and died in straitened
circumstances.