“I then questioned her about herself. She told me that for a considerable time past she had suffered very much from sickness, retching, and vomiting, with severe pains in the stomach and throughout the bowels, accompanied with purgings, great heat and uneasiness about the throat and mouth, and a constant urgent thirst. I examined her tongue; it was very foul, and of a lightish brown colour. Her features were still very sharp and deeply flushed. Her pulse was weak, contracted, and very rapid. Her skin was moist, but defective in animal heat, and altogether she presented the appearance of great general prostration. Her eyes were watery, but clear and intelligent. I prescribed for her small quantities of brandy and champagne to recruit her strength, and small pieces of ice to relieve the thirst and irritability of her stomach. If she tired of these, she should have recourse to granulated citrate of magnesia as a cooling effervescent drink, and have a mustard poultice applied on the pit of the stomach—these were verbal directions. I also recommended, at short intervals, small quantities of easily digested nutritious food, such as beef tea, calves’ foot jelly, chicken soup, arrowroot, and so on. I then wrote a prescription for 12 grains of camomile, 24 of blue or gray powder, 12 of powdered ipecacuanha, and 6 grains of aromatic powder, to be carefully mixed and divided into six parts, one to be taken daily, to relieve the biliary disturbance and soothe the mucous lining of the alimentary canal. I gave her the prescription, and told her to show it to Pritchard when he came home.”
From then until the day before her death the witness did not see Mrs. Pritchard. On the 5th of March Dr. Pritchard had called on him, and reported that his wife was better for his advice, but still very weakly, and her stomach irritable, and had been strongly advised by Dr. Paterson to continue the treatment he had recommended.
“On Friday evening,” continued the witness, “Dr. Pritchard called upon me personally and requested me to come and see his wife. I did so. She was in bed in a sitting posture, supported by pillows, and I was very much struck with her terribly altered appearance. She seemed quite conscious. I went up to her bedside and she caught my hand, and I could see a half-smile of recognition on her countenance. She very soon began to mutter something about her having been vomiting. Dr. Pritchard was standing beside me, and he volunteered to say that she had not been vomiting—that she was raving. She complained of great thirst, and Pritchard poured some water out of a carafe into a tumbler and gave it her, and she drank it. I observed her countenance very much changed from what it had been when I saw her last. Her cheeks were hollow, sharp, pinched-looking, and still very much flushed. There was a peculiarly wild expression: the eyes were of a fiery red and sunk-looking. Her pulse was very weak and exceedingly rapid. Her tongue was a darkish brown colour, very foul; and she immediately began to grasp with her hand as if to catch some imaginary object on the bedclothes. She muttered something about the clock, but there was none in the room. I expressed my surprise at the great change and alarming appearances, and asked Pritchard how long she had been confined to bed since I saw her. He said only since morning, that yesterday and yesterday afternoon she was in the drawing room amusing herself with the children. I again expressed my surprise at her alarming condition. He said she had not slept for four or five nights, and I replied that we must endeavour to procure some refreshing sleep. We went downstairs, and I then prescribed 30 drops of solution of morphia, 30 drops of ipecacuanha wine, 10 drops of chlorodyne, and an ounce of cinnamon water, to be taken every four hours if the first dose did not give relief. Pritchard wrote the prescription at my dictation. I said it was unnecessary; it was simple, and he might mix it himself. I was anxious to save time, and give relief as soon as possible. He said he kept no medicines but chloroform and Battley’s solution; he did not keep a small stock for any emergency, which I thought strange.[147] I then left the house, and at one o’clock the next morning a message came that Mrs. Pritchard was dying, and in less than three minutes after another that she was dead. I never entered Dr. Pritchard’s house except on the occasions I have mentioned. I never told him that I thought his wife had taken too much wine, and I never recommended Dublin stout for her.”[148]
The cross-examination of Dr. Paterson was confined to two points, the grounds on which he held that Mrs. Taylor had not the appearance of having been in the habit of using opium, and his conduct in not disclosing to some member of her family the impression he had formed that Mrs. Pritchard was being slowly poisoned by antimony. “When a person is in the habit of taking opium to a great extent,” he said, “you generally find that they are not very good in colour. They are generally thin in features and hollow about the eyes—in fact, not of a healthy appearance. Mrs. Taylor being stout and healthy-looking, my impression was that she was not an habitual consumer of opium, though she might take it occasionally as medicine.” On the second point he stood on professional etiquette as a consulting physician, and not the regular medical attendant, insisting that he had no right to revisit his patient unless sent for, and saying that he believed he should never have been called in the second time had he not accidentally met Dr. Pritchard in the street.
“His first impression arose simply from seeing Mrs. Pritchard at the time of her mother’s fatal seizure, when he formed his diagnosis from the symptoms that were present, just as he was in the habit of forming his opinion of any patient he saw for the first time—judging from symptomatology, the science of the signs of disease. It was not his duty to interfere in the family without being invited, as there was another doctor in the house, and he did the best he could by apprising the registrar when refusing to sign the certificate of Mrs. Taylor’s death. Had he been called in consultation with another medical man, he should have felt it his duty to state his medical opinion; and had there been a post-mortem examination of Mrs. Taylor’s body at the time, he believed that in all probability the drugging of Mrs. Pritchard with antimony would have gone no further, at least at that time.”
When called in the second time on the 2nd of March, he said:—
“I believed her to be suffering under poisoning by antimony,” and I prescribed accordingly. I saw her alone, but I did not give her any indication of what I thought her ailment. I did not mention antimony or poison in the slightest. I did not give her any idea that she was labouring under any but a natural disease, because the treatment which I prescribed for her, provided she got nothing else, was in my mind quite sufficient to have very soon brought her round, taking it for granted that my advice was carefully walked up to. I did not mention to Dr. Pritchard that his wife was being poisoned by antimony. It would not have been a very safe matter to have done so. I did not go back the next day to see if my advice had been acted on. I did not consider that she was my patient at all. I had no right or title to go back and see her. In any case where a consultation is held, the consulting physician has no right to go back to see the patient; it would be a breach of the etiquette of the profession.”[149]
On re-examination Dr. Paterson stoutly adhered to his opinion that his being called in to see Mrs. Pritchard was purely accidental, and that it would not have been very natural to have communicated his suspicions to the husband.