Few people get off so badly in the world as poor gentlemen. There are multifarious provisions in this kingdom for all sorts of claimants; but a poor gentleman slips down between those which are not applicable to his case, and those which are too repulsive to be practicable. His sensibilities remain—nay, perhaps are sharpened—and thus, whilst they tend to exasperate his wants, they increase the difficulty of supplying them. There is here afforded a grateful opportunity for the indulgence of what we believe, amidst some exceptions, to be the ruling spirit of medical men: a sensitive philanthropy, which no men in the world are more liberal in disbursing. Abernethy had his full share of this excellence. There are multitudes of instances exemplifying it. We are indebted for the following to Mr. Brown, of the respected firm of Longman and Co. Abernethy was just stepping into his carriage to go and see the Duke of ——, to whom he had been sent for in a hurry, when a gentleman stopped him to say that he should be very glad if he could, at his leisure, pay Mr. —— another visit at Somers Town. Abernethy had seen this poor gentleman before, and advised a course which it appeared that the patient had not resolution to follow. "Why," said Abernethy, "I can't go now, I am going in haste to see the Duke of ——." Then pausing a moment before he stepped into the carriage, he looked up to the coachman and said, quietly, "Somers Town." This is very characteristic. The fidgetty irritability of his first impression at interference, and the beneficence of his second thought.
Dr. Thomas Rees knew a gentleman who was a man of ability, who had been a long time ill, and who got a scanty living by his writings. Dr. Rees called on Abernethy, one morning, and told him that the gentleman wished to have his opinion; but that he had heard such accounts of him, he was half afraid to see him. "And if he were not," said Dr. Rees, "he is not able to pay you. He is a great sufferer, and he gets his living by working his brains." "Ah!" said Abernethy; "where does he live, do you say?" "At ——," mentioning a place full two miles distant. Abernethy immediately rang the bell, ordered his carriage, visited the gentleman, and was most kind to him.
One day, a pupil wished to consult him, and found him, about ten minutes before lecture, in the museum, looking over his preparations for lecture—rather a dangerous time, we should have said, for consultation. "I am afraid, sir," said the pupil, "that I have a polypus in my nose, and I want you to look at it." No answer; but when he had sorted his preparations, he said: "Eh! what?" The pupil repeated his request. "Then stand upon your head; don't you see that all the light here comes from a skylight? How am I to look up your nose? Where do you live?" "Bartholomew Close." "What time do you get up?" "At eight." "That can't be then." "Why, sir?" "You cannot be at Bedford Row at nine." "Yes, sir, I will." "To-morrow morning, then." The pupil was punctual. Mr. Abernethy made a most careful examination of his nose, entered into the causes and nature of polypi, assured him that there was nothing of the sort, and exacted from him a promise that he would never look into his nose again. The gentleman, in his letter to me, adds: "This I have never done, and I am happy to say that there has never been any thing the matter."
The following we have from a source of unquestionable authority:
Abernethy was attending a poor man, whose case required assistance at a given time of the day. One morning, when he was to see this patient, the Duke of York called to say that the Prince of Wales wished him to visit him immediately. "That I cannot do," said Mr. Abernethy, "as I have an appointment at twelve o'clock"—the time he promised to visit the poor man. "But," said the Duke, "you will not refuse the Prince; if so, I must proceed to ——." "Ah!" said Abernethy, "he will suit the Prince better than I should." He was, however, again sent for, a few hours later, when he of course visited the Prince.
Very many instances of his liberality were constantly occurring. The following is a specimen:
The widow of an officer of limited income brought her child some distance from the country to consult Abernethy. After a few weeks' attendance, the lady having asked Abernethy when she might return home, was told that she must remain some weeks longer, or he could not answer for the well-doing of the case. In the meantime, having learned how the widow was situated, he continued to take the fees, folding them up in a paper. When he finally took his leave, he returned home, enclosed the fees which he had received, with the addition of a cheque for £50, with a kind note, saying, that as he understood her income was limited, he had returned the fees, with an addition, which would enable her to give the child, who could not walk, a daily ride in the fresh air, which was important to her recovery.
He was, indeed, as it appeared to us, most liberal in the mode of conducting his practice. When asked by a patient when he desired to see them again, it was at the longest period compatible with a reasonable observation of the case; and we doubt whether he ever took a fee where he had even a doubt as to the circumstances of the patient justifying his so doing. It would be easy to multiply examples of this; but it would be a constructive injustice to others to appear to bring things out in high relief, or as special excellences, which (notwithstanding some exceptions) from our hearts we believe to be a prevailing characteristic of the profession.
Abernethy had been, nearly all his life, without being improvident, habitually careless of money; and, although he provided his family with a comfortable competency, which very properly left their position unaltered by his death, yet we doubt if ever any man, with the opportunity of making so much, availed himself of that opportunity so little.
Many instances occurred of his carelessness in these matters.