The services of these foreign musical mercenaries had been retained by George the Fourth, but one of the very earliest acts of his successor was to dismiss them in favour of the guards’ bands, “who,” however, if we are to believe Mr. Greville, had no great reason to be thankful, but were on the contrary “ready to die of it,” as they had to play every night without pay, and were moreover “prevented” from earning money elsewhere. This act of the new king is referred to in a sketch by Seymour, which shows us his Majesty in the act of “discharging the German band,” who may be seen marching off headed by their ancient and crestfallen drum-major.
The month of October, 1830, witnessed the trial of the notorious St. John Long. impostor, John St. John Long (whose real name was O’Driscoll) for the manslaughter of Miss Cushin. The success of this ignorant and notorious quack, who managed for a series of years to extract a magnificent income of some £10,000 or £12,000 per annum by trading on the credulity of his fellow-creatures, forms a curious commentary on the weakness of contemporary “society.” It is said that he commenced life as a house-painter, and afterwards acquired some slight knowledge of art in the humble capacity of colour grinder to Sir Thomas Lawrence, and while colouring (on his own account) some anatomical drawings for a medical London school, picked up a slight and imperfect knowledge of anatomy. This stimulated him to further superficial research; and after a few months’ probation, his confidence enabled him to pretend that he possessed a cure for every disease under the sun—more especially consumption.[99]
The origin and pretensions of this learned practitioner are thus referred to in one of the rhymes of the day:—
| “You may talk of your Celsus, Machaons, and Galens, Physicians who cured all incurable ailings, But ne’er yet was doctor applauded in song Like that erudite Phœnix, the great Doctor Long. Such astonishing cures he performs, I assure ye, Some think him a god—all a lusus naturæ: The whole animal system, no matter how wrong, Is set right in a moment by great Doctor Long. Through all regions his vast reputation has flown, Through the torrid, the frigid, and temperate zone; The wretch, just expiring, springs healthy and strong From his bed at one touch of the great Doctor Long. His skill to experience, what potentates ran— The Pope, the Grand Llama, the King of Japan! The great Chinese autocrat, mighty Fon Whong, Was cured of the ‘doldrums’ by famed Doctor Long! In each serious case he considers as well as Doctor Horace, ‘naturam cum furcâ expellas’; ’Dame Nature’ (i.e.) ‘you must poke with a prong.’ Pretty poking she gets from the great Doctor Long. He cures folks à merveille, the French people cry; The Greeks all pronounce him θειζταγον Dutch and Germans adore him; the Irish among, ’To be sure he’s the dandy!’ Go bragh, Doctor Long! King Chabert has proved, since restored from his panic, There’s small harm in quaffing pure hydrocyanic; But he never found out it was good for the throng, When scrubbed on their stomachs by great Doctor Long. A machine he’s invented, stupendous as new, To sweep one’s inside as you’d sweep out a flue; No climbing boy, urged by the sound of the thong, Can brush out your vitals like great Doctor Long.[100] ****** Garter King has assigned, like a sad ‘fleering Jack,’ A duck for a crest, with the motto, ‘Quack, Quack’ To the proud name of St. John (it should be St. Johng, Which would rhyme with the surname of great Doctor Long). Great house-painting, sign-painting, face-painting sage! Thou Raffaelle of physic!—thou pride of our age! Alas! when thou diest, and the bell goes ding-dong, Sure Hygeia herself will expire with her Long! Then fill every glass, drink in grand coalition, Long life, long await this long-headed physician; Long, long may Fame sound, with her trumpet and song, Through each nation the name of the great Doctor Long!”[101] |
“Dr. Long’s” remedy (“the prong” referred to in the foregoing ballad) was of the simplest possible character, and—his dupes in nine cases out of ten being women—his success complete. He invented a wonderful liniment or lotion, by means of which he professed to diagnose and eradicate the virus of consumption. With many patients an inflammation followed its application, which (according to the quack) discovered the presence of disease, and which, after a plentiful crop of guineas had been extracted, nature was allowed to heal: the patient was then pronounced out of danger. With some persons the liniment was perfectly innocuous, and when this was the case the patient was informed that no disease need be feared. The secret of course lay in the fact that the quack used two liniments, apparently identical, one of which only contained the irritating medium. Many actually consumptive persons of course consulted him; but when this was the case he refused his assistance, on the ground that it had been invoked too late.
He carried the imposition, as might have been anticipated, once too far, and, in the case of the beautiful and unfortunate Miss Cushin (a lady of highly nervous temperament), maintained the inflammation for so long a time that nature for once refused to assist him, and when Sir Benjamin Brodie was summoned, mortification had already set in. The trial resulted in a verdict of guilty, but the judge (Baron Parke), who summed up scandalously in his favour, instead of sending the fellow to hard labour, imposed a fine of £250, which was immediately paid.
Seymour alludes to this event in a pictorial satire, in which he shows us St. John Long, with a vulture’s head and beak, kneeling on the floor of a dungeon with a bottle by his side labelled “lotion,” and (beneath) the words,—“Lost, £12,000 per annum, medical practice. Whoever will restore the same to Mr. St. J. L—g, shall receive the benefit of his advice.”
Miss Cushin’s death was quickly followed by another fatal case, that of Mrs. Colin Campbell Lloyd, who also died from the effects of the corrosive lotion, and St. John Long the following year was again put on his trial for manslaughter; in this case the fellow was acquitted. Seymour’s prediction was not destined to be verified. The soi-disant St. John Long, alias O’Driscoll, in spite of these “mistakes,” which in our day would receive a harsher term, retained his large “practice” to the last, and died—still a young man—of the very disease to which he professed to be superior, thus conclusively proving better than anything else could have done the utter impotency of his preparation.
Anstey (son of the once celebrated author of the “New Bath Guide”) amusingly describes the administration of an oath to a witness in a court of law:—