Mr. Abernethy, although amiable and good-natured, with strong
feelings, possessed an irritable temper, which made him very petulant
and impatient at times with his patients and medical men who applied
to him for his opinion and advice on cases. When one of the latter
asked him once, whether he did not think that some plan which he
suggested would answer, the only reply he could obtain was, "Ay, ay,
put a little salt on a bird's tail, and you'll be sure to catch him."
When consulted on a case by the ordinary medical attendant, he would
frequently pace the room to and fro with his hands in his breeches'
pockets, and _whistle_ all the time, and not say a word, but to tell
the practitioner to go home and read his book. "_Read my book_" was a
very frequent reply to his patients also; and he could seldom be
prevailed upon to prescribe or give an opinion, if the case was one
which appeared to depend upon improper dieting. A country farmer, of
immense weight, came from a distance to consult him, and having given
an account of his daily meals, which showed no small degree of
addiction to animal food, Mr. Abernethy said, "Go away, sir, I won't
attempt to prescribe for such a _hog_."
He was particular in not being disturbed during meals; and a gentleman
having called after dinner, he went into the passage, put his hand
upon the gentleman's shoulders, and turned him out of doors. He would
never permit his patients to talk to him much, and often not at all:
and he desired them to hold their tongues and listen to him, while he
gave a sort of clinical lecture upon the subject of the consultation.
A loquacious lady having called to consult him, he could not succeed
in silencing her without resorting to the following expedient:--"Put
out your tongue, madam." The lady complied. "Now keep it there till
_I_ have done talking." Another lady brought her daughter to him one
day, but he refused to hear her or to prescribe, advising her to make
the girl take exercise. When the guinea was put into his hand, he
recalled the mother, and said, "Here, take the shilling back, and buy
_a skipping-rope_ for your daughter as you go along."--He kept his
pills in a bag, and used to dole them out to his patients; and on
doing so to a lady who stepped out of a coronetted carriage to consult
him, she declared they made her sick, and she could never take a pill.
"Not take a pill! what _a fool_ you must be," was the courteous and
conciliatory reply to the countess. When the late Duke of York
consulted him, he stood whistling with his hands in his pockets; and
the duke said, "I suppose you know who I am." The uncourtly reply was,
"Suppose I do, what of that?" His pithy advice was, "Cut off the
_supplies_, as the Duke of Wellington did in his campaigns, and the
enemy will leave the citadel." When he was consulted for lameness
following disease or accidents, he seldom either listened to the
patient or made any inquiries, but would walk about the room,
imitating the gait peculiar to different injuries, for the general
instruction of the patient. A gentleman consulted him for an ulcerated
throat, and, on asking him to look into it, he swore at him, and
demanded how he dared to suppose that he would allow him to blow his
stinking foul breath in his face! A gentleman who could not succeed
in making Mr. Abernethy listen to a narration of his case, and having
had a violent altercation with him on the subject, called next day,
and as soon as he was admitted, he locked the door, and put the key
into his pocket, and took out a loaded pistol. The professor, alarmed,
asked if he meant to rob or murder him. The patient, however, said he
merely wished him to listen to his case, which he had better submit
to, or he would keep him a prisoner till he chose to relent. The
patient and the surgeon afterwards became most friendly towards each
other, although a great many oaths passed before peace was established
between them.
This eccentricity of manner lasted through life, and lost Mr.
Abernethy several thousands a year perhaps. But those who knew him
were fully aware that it was characteristic of a little impatient
feeling, which only required management; and the apothecaries who took
patients to consult him, were in the habit of cautioning them against
telling long stories of their complaints. An old lady, who was
naturally inclined to be prosy, once sent for him, and began by saying
that her complaints commenced when she was _three years old_, and
wished him to listen to the detail of them from that early period. The
professor, however, rose abruptly and left the house, telling the old
lady to read his book, page so and so, and there she would find
directions for old ladies to manage their health.
It must be confessed, Mr. Abernethy, although a gentleman in
appearance, manner, and education, sometimes wanted that courtesy and
worldly deportment which is considered so essential to the medical
practitioner. He possessed none of the "suaviter in modo," but much of
the eccentricity of a man of genius, which he undoubtedly was. His
writings must always be read by the profession to which he belonged
with advantage; although, in his great work upon his _hobby_, his
theory is perhaps pushed to a greater extent than is admissible in
practice.--His rules for dieting and general living should be read
universally; for they are assuredly calculated to prolong life and
secure health, although few perhaps would be disposed to comply with
them rigidly. When some one observed to Mr. Abernethy himself, that he
appeared to live much like other people, and by no means to be bound
by his own rules, the professor replied, that he wished to act
according to his own precepts, but he had "_such a devil of an
appetite_," that he could not do so.
Mr. Abernethy had a great aversion to any hint being thrown out that
he _cured_ a patient of complaint. Whenever an observation to this
effect was made, he would say, "I never cured any body." The meaning
of this is perfectly obvious. His system was extremely wise and
rational, although, as he expressed himself to ignorant persons, it
was not calculated to excite confidence. He despised all the humbug of
the profession, and its arts to deceive and mislead patients and their
friends, and always told the plain truth without reserve. He knew that
the term _cure_ is inapplicable, and only fit to be used by quacks,
who gain their livelihood by what they call cures, which they promise
the patient to effect. Mr. Abernethy felt that nature was only to be
_seconded_ in her efforts, by an art which is derived from scientific
principles and knowledge, and that it is not the physician or surgeon
who cures, but _nature_, whom the practitioner assists by art.
Weak-minded persons are apt to run after cures, and thus nostrums and
quacks are in vogue, as if the living human system was as immutable in
its properties as a piece of machinery, and could be remedied when it
went wrong as the watchmaker repairs the watch with certainty, or the
coachmaker mends the coach. No one appreciated more highly the value
of medicine as a science than Mr. Abernethy; but he knew that it
depended upon observation and a deep knowledge of the laws and
phenomena of vital action, and that it was not a mere affair of guess
and hazard in its application, nor of a certain tendency as to its
effects.
This disposition of mind led the philosopher to disregard prescribing
for his patients frequently, as he had less faith in the prescription
than in the general system to be adopted by the patient in his habits
and diet. He has been known accordingly, when asked if he did not
intend to prescribe, to disappoint the patient by saying, "Oh, if you
_wish_ it, I'll prescribe for you, certainly." Instead of asking a
number of questions, us to symptoms, &c., he usually contented himself
with a general dissertation, or lecture and advice as to the
management of the constitution, to which local treatment was always a
secondary consideration with him altogether.
When patients related long accounts of their sufferings, and expected
the healing remedy perhaps, without contemplating any personal
sacrifices of their indulgences, or alteration of favourite habits,
he often cut short their narratives by putting his fore-finger on the
pit of their stomachs, and observing, "It's all _there_, sir;" and the
never-failing pill and draught, with rigid restrictions as to diet,
and injunctions as to exercise, invariably followed, although perhaps
rarely attended to; for persons in general would rather submit to even
nauseous medicine than abandon sensual gratifications, or diminish
their worldly pleasures and pursuits.--_Metropolitan._
* * * * *
The Gatherer.
A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.