Passage Illustrated

. . . for more reasons than one, I descended leisurely, as I conjectured a doctor ought to do, from the chaise, and with a solemn pace and grave demeanour followed him into the house.

In the small parlour to which I was ushered, sat two gentlemen somewhat advanced in years, who I rightly supposed were my medical confreres. One of these was a tall, pale, ascetic-looking man, with grey hairs, and retreating forehead, slow in speech, and lugubrious in demeanour. The other, his antithesis, was a short, rosy-cheeked, apoplectic-looking subject, with a laugh like a suffocating wheeze, and a paunch like an alderman; his quick, restless eye, and full nether lip denoting more of the bon vivant than the abstemious disciple of Aesculapius. A moment's glance satisfied me, that if I had only these to deal with, I was safe, for I saw that they were of that stamp of country practitioner, half-physician, half-apothecary, who rarely come in contact with the higher orders of their art, and then only to be dictated to, obey, and grumble.

"Doctor, may I beg to intrude myself, Mr. Phipps, on your notice? Dr. Phipps or Mr. It's all one; but I have only a license in pharmacy, though they call me doctor."

"Surgeon Riley, sir; a very respectable practitioner," said he, waving his hand towards his rubicund confrere.

I at once expressed the great happiness it afforded me to meet such highly informed and justly celebrated gentlemen; and fearing every moment the arrival of the real Simon Pure should cover me with shame and disgrace, begged they would afford me as soon as possible, some history of the case we were concerned for. They accordingly proceeded to expound in a species of duet, some curious particulars of an old gentleman who had the evil fortune to have them for his doctors, and who laboured under some swelling of the neck, which they differed as to the treatment of, and in consequence of which, the aid of a third party (myself, God bless the mark!) was requested.

As I could by no means divest myself of the fear of Fitz.'s arrival, I pleaded the multiplicity of my professional engagements as a reason for at once seeing the patient; upon which I was conducted up stairs by my two brethren, and introduced to a half-lighted chamber. In a large easy chair sat a florid-looking old man, with a face in which pain and habitual ill-temper had combined to absorb every expression.

"This is the doctor of the regiment, sir, that you desired to see," said my tall coadjutor.

"Oh! then very well; good morning, sir. I suppose you will find out something new the matter, for them two there have been doing so every day this two months."

"I trust, sir," I replied stiffly, "that with the assistance of my learned friends, much may be done for you. Ha! hem! So this is the malady. Turn your head a little to that side;" here an awful groan escaped the sick man, for I, it appears, had made considerable impression upon rather a delicate part, not unintentionally I must confess; for as I remembered Hoyle's maxim at whist, "when in doubt play a trump," so I thought it might be true in physic, when posed by a difficulty to do a bold thing also. "Does that hurt you, sir?" said I in a soothing and affectionate tone of voice. "Like the devil," growled the patient. "And here?" said I. "Oh! oh! I can't bear it any longer." "Oh! I perceive," said I, "the thing is just as I expected." Here I raised my eyebrows, and looked indescribably wise at my confreres.

"No aneurism, doctor," said the tall one.

"Certainly not."

"Maybe," said the short man, "maybe it's a stay-at-home-with-us tumour after all;" so at least he appeared to pronounce a confounded technical, which I afterwards learned was "steatomatous;" conceiving that my rosy friend was disposed to jeer at me, I gave him a terrific frown, and resumed, "this must not be touched."

"So you won't operate upon it," said the patient.

"I would not take a thousand pounds and do so," I replied. "Now if you please gentlemen," said I, making a step towards the door, as if to withdraw for consultation; upon which they accompanied me down stairs to the breakfast-room. As it was the only time in my life I had performed in this character, I had some doubts as to the propriety of indulging a very hearty breakfast appetite, not knowing if it were unprofessional to eat; but from this doubt my learned friends speedily relieved me, by the entire devotion which they bestowed for about twenty minutes upon ham, rolls, eggs, and cutlets, barely interrupting these important occupations by sly allusions to the old gentleman's malady, and his chance of recovery.

"Well, doctor," said the pale one, as at length he rested from his labours, "what are we to do?"

"Ay," said the other," there's the question." [Chapter XVI, "The Wager," pp. 136-137]

Commentary: An Impersonation Complicated by Taking the Wrong Carriage

The chapter title refers to a bet that Lorrequer has made with the regimental surgeon, Dr. Fitzgerald: he has impulsively wagered a couple of dozen bottles of champagne for the officer's mess that he will receive better than fifty pounds for a medical consultation before Fitz does on the following morning. The illustration accompanying this chapter prepares serial readers for Lorrequer's adopting a disguise in order to assist with his friend Curzon's elopement. To help effect the elopement, Lorrequer has transformed himself into an elderly relative or friend of Lieutenant Curzon: his having donned "a brown scratch-wig and large green spectacles, and a deep-flapped waistcoat" is evident in Lorrequer practising Physic. What the reader must establish is how Lorrequer's disguise figures in his assuming the identity of a physician. Curzon, meantime, will be eating breakfast with Reverend Nore, an old college friend who, as a Church of England minister, has agreed to officiate at the clandestine marriage ceremony.

Things go terribly wrong when, after 90 minutes on the dark road, Harry's driver delivers him to a large and spacious stone-cut mansion. Harry is immediately greeted by a liveried servant, who addresses the passenger as "doctor darlin'" when he pokes his head into the chaise. And now Harry perceives his error: he has taken the carriage intended to take Dr. Fitzgerald to his highly-profitable consultation, while Fitz has taken Harry's carriage to assist in the Curzon elopement. The pair of country apothecaries and general-practitioners need Dr. Fitz to confirm their diagnosis of and proposed treatment for "a florid-looking old man" who is suffering from a swelling of the neck. Having exhausted his fund of medical knowledge, the pseudo-physician purporting to be the regimental surgeon now attempts to make his escape, but is invited to a hearty breakfast by his comfréres. As he finally departs, the tall doctor hands Harry a crumpled piece of paper (presumably containing his consulting fee). In the next chapter, "The Elopement," Harry catches up on Fitz's adventure and Curzon's wedding plans.

Bibliography

Buchanan-Brown, John. Phiz! Illustrator of Dickens' World. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1978.

Lester, Valerie Browne Lester. Phiz! The Man Who Drew Dickens. London: Chatto and Windus, 2004.

Lever, Charles. The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer. Illustrated by Phiz [Hablot Knight Browne]. Dublin: William Curry, Jun. London: W. S. Orr, 1839.

Steig, Michael. Chapter Two: "The Beginnings of 'Phiz': Pickwick, Nickleby, and the Emergence from Caricature." Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington: Indiana U. P., 1978. Pp. 24-85.

Steig, Michael. Chapter Seven: "Phiz the Illustrator: An Overview and a Summing Up." Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington: Indiana U. P., 1978. Pp. 299-316.

Stevenson, Lionel. Chapter V, "Renegade from Physic, 1839-1841." Dr. Quicksilver: The Life of Charles Lever. London: Chapman and Hall, 1939. Pp. 73-93.

_______. "The Domestic Scene." The English Novel: A Panorama. Cambridge, Mass.: Houghton Mifflin and Riverside, 1960.

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