Dr. Askew had been in his youth a great traveller; at least he was so
considered in those days, for he had been absent from England three
years, and had, during that time, visited Hungary, and resided at
Athens and Constantinople. To the latter place he had accompanied
Sir James Porter, then ambassador to the Porte. In consequence of
these peregrinations, he was regarded on his return to his native
country as no ordinary person, but one who had enjoyed most unusual
advantages, and very rare opportunities of acquiring knowledge. This
will perhaps hardly be credited at the present moment, when it is
scarcely possible to turn the corner of a street without meeting an
Englishman recently arrived, either from the borders of the Dead Sea,
the cataracts of the Nile, or the ruins of Palmyra. Interviews with the
Beys and Pashas of the empire of Mahomet have now-a-days succeeded to
the usual presentations at the courts of the Continent; and the camel,
the firman, and the Tartar, have been substituted for the ordinary
facilities of the poste, the passports, and couriers of the beaten
roads of civilized Europe. Nor is this spirit of enterprise confined
to the gentlemen of England, but pervades alike the softer sex. One
lady of rank and great talent has taken up her permanent abode at the
convent of Mar Elias, on Mount Lebanon; another has accompanied her
husband and family of young children, nurse-maids and all, across the
dreary desert, from Cairo to Jerusalem; while a third, of still more
adventurous spirit, has climbed, by the help of a ladder of ropes, to
the summit of Pompey’s pillar. A few years only have elapsed since an
English lady of fashion was confined at Athens, gave to her infant son
the name of Atticus, and, when sufficiently recovered, resumed with her
husband her journey through the enchanting scenery of Greece; the child
occupying one side of a pair of panniers, while a favourite dog reposed
on the other. But these prodigies were reserved for modern days.
One of the immediate results of the travels of Dr. Askew was the
excellent opportunity it afforded him of gratifying the favourite
pursuit for which he was early distinguished, of collecting books,
manuscripts, and inscriptions. At Paris, on his way home from his
eastern expedition, he laid the foundation of his library, which became
afterwards so celebrated: for, in the love of books, he resembled Dr.
Mead, for whom he entertained a sort of filial veneration, and to
whom he had, when a very young man, and while studying physic at the
university of Leyden, dedicated his specimen of an edition of Æschylus.
At the sale of my late master’s library, he had been one of the most
distinguished of the _emptores literarii_, and, even during his
lifetime, had purchased all his Greek manuscripts, for which he paid
the sum of five hundred pounds.
[Illustration: Now in the Censor’s Room of the College.]
Not content with possessing himself as much as possible of his books,
statues, and other curiosities, he did all he could to preserve the
lineaments, and perpetuate the memory of the person of his deceased
friend. For this purpose he procured Roubiliac to make a bust of him,
which he presented to the College of Physicians.
No one could be better acquainted with the real features of Dr. Mead
than myself; and I pronounce this bust of him to be so like, that,
whenever it is before me, it suggests the strongest idea of the
original; and, indeed, when the marble came home, Dr. Askew was so
highly pleased with its execution, that though he had previously agreed
with the sculptor for £50, he offered him £100 as the reward of his
successful talent; when, to his astonishment, the sordid Frenchman
exclaimed it was not enough, and actually sent in a bill for £108.
2_s._! The demand, even to the odd shillings, was paid, and Dr. Askew
enclosed the receipt to Hogarth, to produce at the next meeting of
artists.
My present master never practised any where but in London:
but his father, Dr. Adam Askew, was a celebrated physician at
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where he enjoyed a great provincial reputation,
and lived to a good old age. With reference to him, a conversation
which occurred at a literary party in the metropolis excited a laugh
at the time, and was to the following effect: Some one of the company
having remarked that my master, Dr. Askew, looked very ill--but indeed,
from his advanced age (whereas he was not then fifty) he could not
be expected to last a long time--“Possibly not,” replied a gentleman
with a smile, “but I dined with his father about a fortnight since at
Newcastle, and he appeared to be in perfect health.”
From the Library of Dr. Mead, in Ormond Street, I had removed but a
short distance, and could scarcely be said to be sensible of any change
in the scholastic air of my present abode.
Our house in Queen Square was crammed full of books. We could dispense
with no more. Our passages were full; even our very garrets overflowed;
and the wags of the day used to say, that the half of the square itself
would have done so, before the book appetite of Dr. Askew would have
been satiated.
We saw a great deal of company, attracted as well by the abundant
luxuries with which my master’s table was furnished, as by the
classical conversations and learned accounts of curiosities which
he had brought with him from his very interesting travels in
Greece.--Among the literary people who were most frequently there,
I may mention Archbishop Markham, Sir William Jones, Dr. Farmer,
Demosthenes Taylor, and Dr. Parr. By these distinguished persons Dr.
Askew was considered as a scholar of refined taste, sound knowledge,
and indefatigable research into every thing connected with Grecian
and Roman learning. Indeed, from his youth upwards, he had been
distinguished for his love of letters, and had received the early
part of his education under Richard Dawes the critic. His father,
on presenting him to the schoolmaster, marked those parts of his
back which Dawes, who was celebrated for his unsparing use of the
birch, might scourge at his pleasure, excepting only his head from
this discipline; and my master was wont to relate with some humour,
the terror with which he surveyed for the first time this redoubted
pedagogue. As a collector of books Dr. Askew was the first who brought
bibliomania into fashion; and no one exhibited his various treasures
better than himself. The eager delight with which he produced his rare
editions, his large-paper copies, his _glistering gems_ and _covetable
tomes_, would have raised him high in the estimation of the Roxburgh
Club. Some, indeed, were of such great rarity, that he would not suffer
them to be touched, but would show them to his visitors through the
glass cases of the cabinets of his Library, or, standing on a ladder,
would himself read aloud different portions of these inestimable
volumes[41]. As specimens of his wealth in this line, I may enumerate--
His Platonis Opera, apud Aldum, 2 vol. fol. 1513, Edit Prin. on
spotless vellum; the ink of which was of the finest lustre, and the
whole typographical arrangement a master-piece of printing.
His Boccacio, la Teseide, Ferar. 1475, Prima Edizione, which was then
considered an unique copy, and was sold after his death for £85. What
it would have fetched under the sceptre of Mr. Evans cannot even be
conjectured!
His Ciceronis Opera omnia, Oliveti, 9 vol. quarto, 1740; charta maxima.
These were amongst many others which I cannot now specify, but which
were then regarded as rare, magnificent, giants, imperial, atlas,
elephant, princes of editions!!
As no one had enjoyed greater opportunities, possessed more sufficient
means to gratify his taste, or had an acuter discrimination, the
_Bibliotheca Askeviana_ was well known to all, both at home and abroad,
who were in the least eminent for bibliographical research. And as he
had expressed a wish that his books might be unreservedly submitted to
sale after his decease, the public became ultimately benefited by his
pursuits, and many a collection was afterwards enriched by an _Exemplar
Askevianum_. The sale (apud S. Baker et G. Leigh, in vico dicto York
Street, Covent Garden, Februar. 1775) occupied twenty days.
[Illustration: This model is about 12 inches high, is of unbaked
potters’ clay, and is now in the possession of Sir Lucas Pepys, Bart.,
whose lady is the daughter of Dr. Askew.]
But the library of my present master was not, as I have said before,
the only attraction which our house afforded: to many of his guests,
the recital of his adventures during his travels abroad was a constant
source of amusement; and we saw most foreigners who came to London.
Dr. Askew had been in the East, and so vague and magnificent was the
opinion formed at that time of an oriental traveller, that I verily
believe he was supposed to have been able to speak all the languages of
that quarter of the globe. It was from some such notion as this that
they brought to him a Chinese, by name Chequa, who (however imperfect
their oral communication might be) seemed so grateful for the attention
and kindness he had received, that he requested before his departure
from England to be permitted to make a model of the Doctor in his
robes; which being readily granted, we sat to the stranger: and this is
the specimen of his ingenuity, rendered with Chinese fidelity.
From what has been said of the pursuits of Dr. Askew, it may be
inferred that much of his time was employed in his library, and
dedicated to the conversation of literary men; but he was not entirely
inattentive to professional engagements, and I took of course no small
interest in watching the progress of medicine, and becoming acquainted
with the rising and eminent physicians of the day. Amongst others,
there was one who had settled in London two years before Dr. Askew, and
who rapidly got into great business, which he followed with unremitting
attention above thirty years, for he lived many years after the death
of the former. Previous to his coming to town, Dr. Heberden had been
established at Cambridge, where he gave Lectures on the Materia Medica
for about ten years: among his pupils were students who afterwards
greatly distinguished themselves, as Sir George Baker, Dr. Gisborne,
and Dr. Glynn; the latter of whom was a character long known and
valued in Cambridge, both for his virtues and his eccentricities.
Of his method of lecturing, a specimen is preserved in his Essay on
Mithridatium and Theriaca, published in 1745, three years before he
quitted the university. Treating of this famous medicine, which had
recently been expunged from our public dispensatory, Dr. Heberden
proves, that the only poisons known to the ancients were hemlock,
monk’s-hood, and those of venomous beasts; and that to these few they
knew of no antidotes. That the farrago called after the celebrated King
of Pontus, which, in the time of Celsus, consisted of thirty-eight
simples, had changed its composition every hundred years, and that
therefore what had been for so many ages called Mithridatium, was quite
different from the true medicine found in the cabinet of that Prince.
This, he states, was a very trivial one, composed of twenty leaves of
rue, one grain of salt, two nuts, and two dried figs; and he infers
that, even supposing Mithridates had ever used the compound (which is
doubtful), his not being able to despatch himself was less owing to the
strength of his antidote than to the weakness of his poison. The first
accounts of subtle poisons that might be concealed under the stone of a
seal or ring, as well as the stories of poisons by vapours arising from
perfumed gloves and letters, he pronounces to be evidently the idle
inventions of ignorance and superstition.
The learning and good sense which characterize the whole of this
little Essay, will enable the reader to form a judgment of the manner
in which he conveyed instruction to his class, and of the loss which
the university must have suffered by his removal; but he would
probably have settled in London earlier than he actually did, had the
encouragement held out to him, to come to the metropolis, not been most
unfairly kept from his knowledge. The circumstances attending this want
of good faith will be best explained by the following letter from Sir
Edward Hulse to Dr. Heberden, then residing at Cambridge, and Dr. H.’s
reply:--
“_Baldwyn, July 14, 1748._
“DEAR SIR,
“I shall be very glad to embrace any opportunity of showing
you how sincerely I wish your welfare; and I assure you,
when I desired ---- to dispose you to come to London, I did
unfeignedly mean to serve you, knowing you to be capable of
answering any recommendation your friends could give you.
---- then sent me word, you had no inclination to leave the
University. What shall I say to you now? Even what I said to
----, who at the persuasion of his friends was afterwards
inclined to come himself, and try his fortune here, viz. That
when I left London I had, as far as I could, recommended Dr.
Shaw to my business: so it stands now, except that Dr. Shaw has
too much business, more than he can possibly do, upon which
account I have endeavoured to assist Dr. Taylor, who came from
Newark. He is greatly supported by some noble families, and
has already wonderfully succeeded. I have set before you the
difficulties that I lie under, of recommending any body at
present. I don’t intend to flatter you, when I say, I make no
doubt you will be able to support yourself by your own merit;
and as far as shall be consistent with honour, jointly with
my power, which is now very little, you may depend upon the
friendship of,
“Sir,
“Your most affectionate
“humble servant,
“E. HULSE.
“P.S.--Since the writing of this, I am certainly informed that
Dr. Shaw is gone over to Hanover with the Duchess of Newcastle.
I believe you never will have a fairer opportunity of settling
in this town than the present.”
DR. HEBERDEN’s _answer_.
“_August 30, 1748._
“I take the opportunity of returning my thanks by Mr. H.,
for your most obliging letter. No one can be ignorant that
your assistance and recommendation must be of the highest
advantage to any person who was beginning the practice of
physic in London; and I am persuaded they would at any time
have determined me to fix there, though I had otherwise no such
intention. But I never was rightly informed that I had such a
valuable opportunity in my power. By what accident or mistake
it happened, I do not know, but the person you mention never
acquainted me with it at all, nor indeed any one else with
authority from you. I had only heard accidentally, that you
had expressed yourself with great civility, on a supposition
of my removing to London. There was no reason, when I first
heard such reports, to imagine that they amounted to any thing
more than your good wishes. As soon as I could believe there
was the least probability of your intending to assist me with
your interest, I immediately took the liberty of writing to
you. I must reckon it among my greatest misfortunes, that this
application came too late: though I shall always think myself
under the same obligations to you, as if I had enjoyed the
benefit of your kind intentions. My best acknowledgments are
due for the assurances of your disposition to assist me still,
where your other engagements have not put it out of your power;
and it is with the highest satisfaction that I find myself
possessed of a place in your friendship. I propose seeing
London some time in October, in order to consult with some
friends about the advisableness of my settling there, when I
hope to have the pleasure of paying my respects to you.”
He settled in London the following Christmas. The name of the person
alluded to in Sir Edward Hulse’s letter does not appear, for it
was effectually erased from the original letter, though it shows
something indicative of a superior mind to be told, that Dr. Heberden
afterwards lived on terms of friendship with the author of so base a
transaction. Not long after he came to reside in town, he met Dr. Mead
in consultation at the Duke of Leeds’, and observed his faculties to be
so impaired, that he then determined within himself, that if he ever
lived to the same age of seventy-eight, he would give up practice. And
this resolution he strictly adhered to, saying that people’s friends
were not forward to tell them of their decay, and that he would rather
retire from business several years too soon, than follow it one hour
too long.
“Plutarch,” said he, “has told us that the life of a vestal virgin was
divided into three portions; in the first of which she learned the
duties of her profession, in the second she practised them, and in the
third she taught them to others.” This, he maintained, was no bad model
for the life of a physician; and when he had passed through the two
first of these periods, he addressed himself diligently to the work of
teaching others. The motto prefixed to his commentaries was expressive
of this his favourite maxim--
Γέρων και κάμνειν οὐκέτι δυναμενος, τοῦτο το Βιβλιον ἔγραψα
But while in the enjoyment of health, he lived much with scholars
and men of science, among whom may be reckoned Gray, Bryant, Wray,
Cavendish, Hurd, Kennicott, Lowth, Jenyns, Tyrwhitt, Jortin, and
most of the distinguished men of his time. Of the amusements of this
literary coterie, take this as an example. Mr. Stuart, best known by
the name of Athenian Stuart, having presented Dr. Heberden with a
tea-chest made of olive wood from Athens, Mr. Tyrwhitt, who soon after
dined with him, inspired by so classical a subject, sent him the next
day the following copy of verses.
In Attic fields, by famed Ilissus’ flood,
The sacred tree of Pallas once I stood.
Now torn from thence, with graceful emblems drest,
For Mira’s tea I form a polish’d chest.
Athens, farewell! no longer I repine
For my Socratic shade and patroness divine.
Sir William Jones[42] afterwards rendered the same into Greek, and
Jacob Bryant, Esq. author of the Ancient Mythology, into Latin. The
chest speaks its own native language the best, but should it imitate my
example, and, inspired by the flattering notice of such distinguished
men, begin to talk again, and procure, as an amanuensis, the elegant
scholar in whose possession it now is, let it speak whatever tongue it
may, I am afraid my memoirs would soon be consigned to neglect.
Dr. Heberden was always exceedingly liberal and charitable, therefore
as soon as he found he could support himself in London, he voluntarily
relinquished a fellowship which he held in St. John’s College for the
benefit of some poorer scholar to whom it might be of use. He was
forward in encouraging all objects of science and literature, and
promoting all useful institutions. There was scarcely a public charity
to which he did not subscribe, or any work of merit to which he did not
give his support. He recommended to the College of Physicians the first
design of their Medical Transactions; was the author of several papers
in them, also of some in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal
Society, as well as of Commentaries on the History and Cure of Diseases.
[Illustration: Dr. Heberden, from a portrait of him in the Dining Room
of the College.]
He was much esteemed by his Majesty King George the Third; and upon the
Queen’s first coming to England, in 1761, had been named as Physician
to her Majesty, an honour which he thought fit to decline. The real
reason of which was, that he was apprehensive it might interfere with
those connexions of life that he had now formed. In 1796 he met with
an accident which disabled him for the last few years of his life;
till then he had always been in the habit of walking, if he could,
some part of every day. It deserves to be mentioned, that when he
was fast approaching to the age of ninety, he observed, that though
his occupations and pleasures were certainly changed from what they
had used to be, yet he knew not if he had ever passed a year more
comfortably than the last.
He lived to his ninety-first year (for I am anticipating, by many
years, my own history), and there can hardly be a more striking
memorial of the perfect condition of his mind to the very last, than
that within forty-eight hours of his decease he repeated a sentence
from an ancient Roman author, signifying, that “Death is kinder to none
than those to whom it comes uninvoked.”
His address was pleasing and unaffected, his observations cautious and
profound, and he had a happy manner of getting able men to exhibit
their several talents, which he directed and moderated with singular
attention and good humour.
But, though rendered eminent by his skill as a physician, he conferred
a more valuable and permanent lustre on his profession by the worth
and excellence of his private character. From his early youth Dr.
William Heberden had entertained a deep sense of religion, a consummate
love of virtue, an ardent thirst after knowledge, and an earnest
desire to promote the welfare and happiness of all mankind. By these
qualities, accompanied with great sweetness of manners, he acquired the
love and esteem of all good men, in a degree which perhaps very few
have experienced; and after passing an active life with the uniform
testimony of a good conscience, he became a distinguished example of
its influence, in the cheerfulness and serenity of his latest age.
In proof of these assertions I will mention an anecdote of him which,
though now perhaps almost forgotten, somehow or other transpired at
the time, and was duly appreciated by his contemporaries. After the
death of Dr. Conyers Middleton, (whom I have had occasion to speak of
before, as the author of the attack on the dignity of physic, which
was so warmly and triumphantly repelled by Dr. Mead), his widow called
upon Dr. Heberden with a MS. treatise of her late husband, about the
publication of which she was desirous of consulting him. The religion
of Dr. Middleton had always been justly suspected, and it was quite
certain that his philosophy had never taught him candour. Dr. Heberden
having perused the MS., which was on the inefficacy of prayer, told the
lady that though the work might be deemed worthy of the learning of
her departed husband, its tendency was by no means creditable to his
principles, and would be injurious to his memory; but as the matter
pressed, he would ascertain what a publisher might be disposed to give
for the copyright. This he accordingly did; and having found that £150
might be procured, he himself paid the widow £200, and consigned the
MS. to the flames.
[Illustration]
PITCAIRN.