In another fortnight we had another Physick in the family. His papa
called him "a little dose," and his mamma a "pill," in contradistinction
to her previous "Phil." Proving peaceful and reflective, he also soon
earned for himself the title of "the infant _Phil_osopher."
Mrs. Physick did not like the society of Mrs. Rocket, the nurse, whom
the Doctor had chosen "on account of the _absence_ of her conversational
powers." Mrs. Physick was accordingly always trying to get me into her
chamber to sit with her. Mrs. Rocket accordingly did not like me, and
was always trying to get me out. Between these two contending powers
above, and the butcher, the baker, and candlestick-maker below, I was
neither solitary nor idle.
There was much to do, moreover, in answering the kind inquiries, and
receiving and disposing of the whips, jellies, _blanc-mangers_, and
other indigestible delicacies, sent in by anxious friends. These the
grateful Doctor pronounced, in the privacy of domestic life, "poison for
the patient, but not quite so bad for the attendants." Accordingly, we
ate them together sociably, at almost every meal; after which we went up
stairs and told "the patient" how good they were, while I presented her
gruel, and he would ask her, with an earnest air of judicial and
dispassionate investigation, whether that was not "nice." This conduct
she declared most unfeeling and ungrateful in us both, and bound herself
by many a vow to make us pay for it as soon as she had the ordering of
our dinners again. So we all made merry together over the little cradle
that was called "the pill-box." Its small tenant was from the first, as
I have hinted, a virtuous child, cried little, slept much, and when
awake rewarded our attentions by making such preposterous faces as
rendered it a most grateful task to watch him. I soon, therefore, became
much attached to him; and I enjoyed one at least of the chief elements
of the happiness of the individual,--the happiness of those among whom
the individual lives.
In the mean time my guardian sometimes discussed with me some other
things besides the jellies. For instance, "Katy," said he at one of our
_tête-à-tête_ dinners, "you walk out every day, I suppose; or, at least,
you ought. I wish you would call now and then, and take Nelly Fader with
you. She can hardly be a very entertaining companion to you, I own, but
it would be a charity; and, for your mother's daughter, that's enough."
"Certainly I will. By the way, speaking of her, what _did_ you mean by
what you said that day about female physicians?"
"I meant what I said," returned he, bluntly. "I meant just what I said.
We need them, and we shall have them. It is an experiment that has got
to be tried, and will be probably, within your lifetime, if not in mine.
I don't want you to be one of them, though. You ought to be as much
cleverer than yourself as you are now than Nelly Fader, in order to
carry it through; and even then it might be the carrying of a cross
through life,--a grievous, in the view of most men perhaps an
ignominious cross, to the pioneers. Especially it will be so, if other
good but uninformed and thoughtless women are going to cry out upon it,
as you and Julia did the other day. Whether the experiment is to succeed
or not depends, under Providence, very much on you and such as you. But
if that sort of outcry is to be raised, it will probably have the effect
of keeping out of the profession such women as, from their integrity,
ability, culture, and breeding, could be ornaments to it, and leave us
shallow and low-minded smatterers, that I wouldn't trust with the life
of a canary-bird,--who will ask which is likely to be the most lucrative
calling, medicine or millinery, and take their choice accordingly,--and,
for want of better, poor dupes will employ them. If you can't bear
female practitioners, you'll have to bear female _quack_titioners." He
paused and looked at me.
I knew how jealous he always was for the honor of his craft. He did not
often come so near giving me a scolding; and I began to be afraid I
might deserve one, though I could not see how. "I am sorry," said I; "I
did not mean--I did not think--I did not know--"
"Precisely, kitten on the hearth," returned he, good-humoredly; "and as
you _are_ sorry, and as you are besides usually rather less unmeaning
and unthinking and unknowing than most other chits of your age, I
forgive you. Learn to think and know before you hiss or purr, and you
will be wiser than most chits of any age or sex. But now, consider: you,
such as you are, yourself little more than a child, have, in two or
three short visits, roused, interested, and done that other poor child
more good, and, I strongly suspect, inspired her with more confidence,
than I--I trust as upright a person and as sincere a well-wisher--have
been able to do in a score. And this you have been able to do, in great
part, simply by virtue of your womanhood. It _comes more natural_ to
her, no doubt, to talk with you. Nelly's is a case in point, though by
no manner of means so strong a case as others that I have in my mind.
Now imagine another woman with your good-will and natural tact,
vivacity, and sympathy; multiply these by double your age and intellect,
and again by triple your experience and information; calculate from
these data _her_ powers of doing good in such cases, and then see
whether, in helping to brand her and fetter her in the exercise of such
powers, you may not 'haply be found to fight against God.'"
"I will not speak so again,--at least before I think and know. You have
forgiven me. Now appoint me my penance."
"Do what more you can for Nelly, then. I can do little or nothing. In
fact, my visits seem to embarrass and agitate her so much, that I am
sometimes afraid they hurt her more than they help her. She suffers more
in mind than body, I suspect. How, she will not tell me, and perhaps she
cannot. It may be that she is sick from sorrow; or, on the other hand,
her sorrow may be only an illusion of her sickness. It is all, from
first to last, a mere miserable groping and working in the dark. In the
mean time her constitution and character are forming for life. It is
enough to make one's heart ache to look at the poor baby, and think what
an unsatisfactory, profitless, miserable life that may be. I need not
remind _you_, Katy, that all this is a little piece of Freemasonry
between ourselves. You are one of the exceptional and abnormal human
people before whom one can safely think aloud."
I went to Nelly that very afternoon, with some curiosity and with no
unwillingness. I had already begun to like her better than the Doctor
did, as I began to know her better. At first I had been somewhat at a
loss as to her real disposition, between the constant civility of her
manners, and the occasional sullenness of her _manner_. I was fast
making up my mind that the civility was genuine; the sullenness,
apparent only, the result of extreme shyness, despondency, and languor.
As fast as she became more and more at her ease with me, just so fast
did she become more and more engaging. She was chaotic enough, and like
a different creature on different days; but I found her, though
sometimes very childish, often sweet and never sour, unvaryingly patient
towards her very trying aunt, and only too subservient to her.
On this particular afternoon, I spied her through the best-parlor
window, sobbing dismally. When she heard and saw me, she tried to
compose herself in vain; but the only account she had to give of her
grief was, that "the mocking-bird sang so dreadfully, and the Doctor
told Aunt Cumberland she [Nelly] was not going to die. There," added
she, under her breath, "I didn't mean to say that!"
We had no chance to say more; for Mrs. Cumberland came in from her
shopping, and inquired for some cap-ruffles, which she had given Nelly
to make up for her. "She said she didn't feel well enough to go down
town with me," said Mrs. Cumberland; "an' so I left her them to hem,
'cause the Doctor says she needs cheerful occupation; an' them are just
the pootiest kind o' work for young ladies, an' ruther tryin' to old
eyes."
This was unanswerable; and as I was obliged myself to go to some shops,
and Nelly could not, with her swollen lids, I bade Mrs. Cumberland good
by; but told her niece that I meant to call for her soon again, for the
Doctor thought it would do both of us good to take a walk every day. She
looked somewhat encouraged by this; and I hoped that the plan would have
the twofold effect of making her think it would be ungracious to refuse
to accompany me a second time, and of keeping her from crying lest she
should again be caught at it.
When I reached home, I found it a home of strife. The _pill_ was soon to
be labelled. Dr. Physick wished to call it Julius; but nothing would do
for his tyrannical wife but to have it bear his name.
"Thank you," said the Doctor, as I entered. "Aren't the sufferings of
one generation under that dispensation enough for you? Do as you would
be done by, Julia. How would you like yourself to be called Philemon?"
"I can't help that," persisted Mrs. Julia. "The name of Phil is a
philter to me. Unless he bears it, I shall hate him."
"A likely story! What should you have done if he had been a girl?"
"Called him Phillis," answered the ready Julia, sturdily.
"Then what should you say to Philip, now?" interposed I in behalf of the
helpless innocent,--(an interposition in return for which, ever after we
have finished his medical education with a year in Paris, he ought in
common gratitude to prescribe for me _gratis_, if I live to be as old
and ill as Joyce Heth;--for Philip he was and is, and will be, I trust,
for many a fine day,--the fine, honest, clever, useful fellow!)
"Here's your fee, Katy, for restoring my domestic supremacy--ahem! I
hope Mrs. Physick did not hear," said the Doctor;--"domestic balance of
power shall I say, my love,--or system of compromises?"
What "my love" desired him to say I cannot say, for I was deep in the
note which he had disgorged for me from his not only omnivorous, but,
alas! too often oblivious pocket. It was written on small-sized French
paper, in a beautiful English hand, bore date, to my consternation, some
days back, and ran as follows:--
"BARBERRY BEACH, Monday, Sept.--th, 18--.
"DEAR MISS MORNE:--
"I have been wishing to see you again, all through this month, but
scarcely expecting it till now; because I knew how full your heart and
hands must be at home. Now, however, since I have had the pleasure of
hearing from the Doctor that Mrs. Physick is nearly well, perhaps it
will not be too much to hope that you will find an hour to spare for me
some day this week. I have no engagements made; and if you can appoint a
time to come to me, I shall be here and deny myself to other visitors. I
should send my barouche for you; but one of the ponies has hurt its
hoof, and the Doctor says that you confine yourself too closely to your
household cares, and that you would be all the better for a walk.
"Another indulgence which I have been promising myself,--that of
painting some illustrations for my brother's next work,--I find I must
not only put off, but forego. It would be some consolation to me to be
able to make it over to you, and believe that you found half as much
enjoyment in it as I have, on former occasions. The usual terms, when he
has paid for such work, have been ... [here she named a liberal sum];
but of course, if you like to undertake it, you will feel at liberty to
name your own; and I shall be, as I am,
"Very gratefully yours,
"ELIZABETH DUDLEY.
"MISS MORNE."
Between surprise, pleasure, and dismay at my apparent neglect, I
exclaimed simply, "What shall I do!"
"In all dilemmas, consult your guardian," answered he; and I handed him
the note by way of a Nemesis.
He read it aloud very honestly, date and all; and I had the satisfaction
to hear his wife, who was fast getting him well in hand again, rebuke
him.
"Whew!" whistled he with most appropriate contrition; "'Monday'! and
it's Thursday now, and too late for to-day! I wish I mayn't have lost
you the job, Katy. While the heart holds out, however, never give up the
case! Put on your best bib and tucker when you get up to-morrow morning;
and, as soon as you have got through ordering me an apple-dumpling, I
will take you over there, and tell Miss Dudley who was to blame, and
promise her, if she will forgive us, never to give her any
assafoetida."