MRS. PODGER BECOMES A SIBYL.
There’s a real love of a lie,
Liars find ready-made for lies they make,
As hand for glove, or tongue for sugar-plum.
—_Browning._
In nothing have hospitals improved more of late years than in their
nursing arrangements. This seems coincident with the High Church
movement which has given the sick poor the inestimable boon of being
nursed by gentlewomen who have adopted the noble profession of nursing
from the love of God and their neighbour—ousting the Gamp and Harris
sisterhood to the great advantage of their patients. Previous to the
reform of this branch of charity, great scandals were always arising
from the ignorance, incompetence, indolence, and drunkenness of the
women employed to attend upon the sick. Very often, too, the poor
invalids were robbed by these persons; and when their little
possessions were not actually filched, it was necessary to bribe their
attendants to do their duty, or to omit it, as the case might be. Many
blots on the management of St. Bernard’s were traced to this source by
the governing body; and when Miss Rackworth, the matron, died, it was
determined to thoroughly reorganize the nursing staff on the new
system, which had been proved successful in other hospitals.
The first thing which the new matron did after her installation was to
make a clearance of the Mrs. Gamp order of nurse. And it was time! The
age has outgrown “Sairey” and her set. The old hussies made it their
business to “keep in” with the students, as they could help them in
many ways, but the patients who did not “tip” them got scant courtesy.
The newer order of skilled and educated nurses kept the students within
due bounds; and, feeling that their first duty was to the patients,
never, if they could prevent it, permitted their interests to be
sacrificed to medical education. Podger’s days were numbered when Miss
Kemp took up the reins of government.
Podger had of late presumed to send away several minor cases of
casualty, with wet bandages of her own application, when she was in her
cups; and the matron demanded her dismissal. It was a sad day for poor
Podger when she turned her back on the hospital she loved. She had
saved a little money, not so much as she ought, but still something for
a rainy day. So she took a small house in Chillingworth Street, near
Seven Dials, and set up in the “ointment” line. Filling her parlour
window with a few gross of willow boxes, such as doctors use for their
stuff, she announced, “Mrs. Podger’s Old Nurses’ Salve for Bad Legs,
Boils, etc.,” and published some remarkable cases, which soon brought a
little grist to her mill. But she had also furnished apartments to let,
and these were taken by a middle-aged lady in the “medium” line of
business—Mrs. Sabina Allen she was called. She was of more than middle
stature, with jet-black hair, good features, and a general cheap
tragedy-queen aspect. She converted Podger in a month, and with the
assistance of her little stone jar of “Old Tom,” made her see the
ghosts of her deceased relatives floating about the house in the “most
permiscuous manner.” Podger was no sooner a disciple of advanced
spiritualism, than she entered into partnership with her lodger, and
inserted advertisements in The _Medium Light_ and _Daybreak_,
announcing that public _séances_ were held at 15 Chillingworth Street,
every Sunday evening, at eight o’clock.
The first Sunday, some seventeen persons attended, and the collection
was a great success, as it amounted to no less a sum than eight
shillings and sixpence. Dreams of wealth began to float through the
brains of the sibyls. Podger did not admit all comers; they had to pass
a “preliminary” in the passage before they went upstairs. Podger was
the examiner. When the bell rang, she answered it. The applicant would
request admission to the _séance_.
“Are you a spiritualist?”
“Yes.”
“What journal do you read?”
“_Daybreak._”
“Do you know any of our friends?”
“Yes; a Mr. Lapworth and a Miss Clegg who attend here.”
“All right, you can come up.”
Then you were led by Podger into a first-floor front room, very frowsy,
dark, and stuffy, in which the chairs were arranged in a semi-circle,
facing a big chintz-covered sofa. There was a cabinet or screen in
front of a cupboard on the left of the fireplace, covered with black
cloth, which material also closely draped the windows, and excluded the
light from the street lamps and the public-house opposite. The room was
already nearly filled, and, in a few minutes, the medium entered, and
took her seat on the sofa, with Podger on her left, by the cabinet.
When she had seated herself, you saw that the long greasy mark on the
wall-paper behind the couch was caused by the contact of the medium’s
head as she leaned back fanning herself, and looking pale and weary.
The company, on the occasion we describe, consisted of eleven women,
more or less young, evidently work-women, and six men. Eight o’clock
having struck, Podger put out the gas, and left the room in total
darkness, and then struck up a hymn,—
“Shall we gather at the river?”
which was very well sung by the little congregation. By the time the
hymn was finished, the medium had begun to breathe heavily, and
occasionally draw deep sighs. When all was silent she began to speak in
a queer tone, and Podger announced that it was the spirit of an ancient
Egyptian who had entered into the medium temporarily, and who was about
to describe what he saw round the heads of the visitors, amongst whom
to-night was Janet Spriggs, niece of Mrs. Podger. She was Mrs. Crowe’s
maid, and had recently made the acquaintance of Mr. Mole, who had
frequent occasion to visit the house on business connected with the
Laboratory. The ancient Egyptian declared he saw a vision of a field of
waving corn behind Janet’s head, which her aunt interpreted to mean
coming prosperity of extraordinary extent; he also saw her seated in a
chariot, drawn by horses like those of Pharaoh, and waited upon by
slaves of the desert (this was declared to mean she would ride in her
own carriage, and have servants of her own); that he also saw Imhotep,
the son of Ptah and Pakht, bringing one of his disciples to marry her
(Mrs. Podger interpreted this to mean she should wed a young doctor);
that an evil spirit was in the house where she lived who meant
mischief, and indicated perhaps a speedy visit to the spirit world for
a lady who abode there (this was not further explained, as Jenny seemed
to know all about it).
As each visitor was permitted to ask any question he liked of the
Egyptian gentleman, the fortune-telling business went briskly on till
closing time, when everybody felt that they had had a very fair
sixpennyworth, and went home to dream of the things in store for them.
“Spirit lights” had floated all about the room, accompanied by
handbells, daubed with luminous paint, and agitated by unseen hands.
The entertainment was altogether a very eerie affair, and no doubt
contributed its quota towards manufacturing mental disorders for the
neighbouring asylum.
It was very droll to see the old nurse in her new character. She had,
in a few months, cast off most of her hospital peculiarities, and had
picked up from the medium an ample vocabulary of spiritualist terms.
They worked together in harness very well. Podger was the jackal who
provided the material for the medium to work upon; she got to know all
the secrets of the folks who came to the _séances_, and by her wide
acquaintance and powers of ferreting out all about people, kept Mrs.
Allen well supplied with provender for the Egyptian and other familiar
spirits who hovered about Chillingworth Street.
Mr. Mole never attended the _séances_, but he frequently saw the
ex-nurse, and, by judicious hints, secured to himself the benefits of
her niece’s co-operation.