CHAPTER XII
When Greek Meets Greek, Then Comes the Tug of War
The doctor, that is our doctor, had thought nothing more of themessage which had been sent to that other doctor, Dr Fillgrave; norin truth did the baronet. Lady Scatcherd had thought of it, but herhusband during the rest of the day was not in a humour which allowedher to remind him that he would soon have a new physician on hishands; so she left the difficulty to arrange itself, waiting in somelittle trepidation till Dr Fillgrave should show himself.
It was well that Sir Roger was not dying for want of his assistance,for when the message reached Barchester, Dr Fillgrave was some fiveor six miles out of town, at Plumstead; and as he did not get backtill late in the evening, he felt himself necessitated to put off hisvisit to Boxall Hill till next morning. Had he chanced to have beenmade acquainted with that little conversation about the pump, hewould probably have postponed it even yet a while longer.
He was, however, by no means sorry to be summoned to the bedside ofSir Roger Scatcherd. It was well known at Barchester, and very wellknown to Dr Fillgrave, that Sir Roger and Dr Thorne were old friends.It was very well known to him also, that Sir Roger, in all his bodilyailments, had hitherto been contented to entrust his safety to theskill of his old friend. Sir Roger was in his way a great man, andmuch talked of in Barchester, and rumour had already reached theears of the Barchester Galen, that the great railway contractor wasill. When, therefore, he received a peremptory summons to go over toBoxall Hill, he could not but think that some pure light had brokenin upon Sir Roger's darkness, and taught him at last where to lookfor true medical accomplishment.
And then, also, Sir Roger was the richest man in the county, and tocounty practitioners a new patient with large means is a godsend; howmuch greater a godsend when he be not only acquired, but taken alsofrom some rival practitioner, need hardly be explained.
Dr Fillgrave, therefore, was somewhat elated when, after a very earlybreakfast, he stepped into the post-chaise which was to carry himto Boxall Hill. Dr Fillgrave's professional advancement had beensufficient to justify the establishment of a brougham, in which hepaid his ordinary visits round Barchester; but this was a specialoccasion, requiring special speed, and about to produce no doubt aspecial guerdon, and therefore a pair of post-horses were put intorequest.
It was hardly yet nine when the post-boy somewhat loudly rang thebell at Sir Roger's door; and then Dr Fillgrave, for the first time,found himself in the new grand hall of Boxall Hill house.
"I'll tell my lady," said the servant, showing him into the granddining-room; and there for some fifteen minutes or twenty minutes DrFillgrave walked up and down the length of the Turkey carpet allalone.
Dr Fillgrave was not a tall man, and was perhaps rather more inclinedto corpulence than became his height. In his stocking-feet, accordingto the usually received style of measurement, he was five feet five;and he had a little round abdominal protuberance, which an inch and ahalf added to the heels of his boots hardly enabled him to carry offas well as he himself would have wished. Of this he was apparentlyconscious, and it gave to him an air of not being entirely at hisease. There was, however, a personal dignity in his demeanour, apropriety in his gait, and an air of authority in his gestures whichshould prohibit one from stigmatizing those efforts at altitude as afailure. No doubt he did achieve much; but, nevertheless, the effortwould occasionally betray itself, and the story of the frog and theox would irresistibly force itself into one's mind at those momentswhen it most behoved Dr Fillgrave to be magnificent.
But if the bulgy roundness of his person and the shortness of hislegs in any way detracted from his personal importance, thesetrifling defects were, he was well aware, more than atoned for by thepeculiar dignity of his countenance. If his legs were short, his facewas not; if there was any undue preponderance below the waistcoat,all was in due symmetry above the necktie. His hair was grey, notgrizzled nor white, but properly grey; and stood up straight from offhis temples on each side with an unbending determination of purpose.His whiskers, which were of an admirable shape, coming down andturning gracefully at the angle of his jaw, were grey also, butsomewhat darker than his hair. His enemies in Barchester declaredthat their perfect shade was produced by a leaden comb. His eyes werenot brilliant, but were very effective, and well under command. Hewas rather short-sighted, and a pair of eye-glasses was always on hisnose, or in his hand. His nose was long, and well pronounced, and hischin, also, was sufficiently prominent; but the great feature of hisface was his mouth. The amount of secret medical knowledge of whichhe could give assurance by the pressure of those lips was trulywonderful. By his lips, also, he could be most exquisitely courteous,or most sternly forbidding. And not only could he be either the oneor the other; but he could at his will assume any shade of differencebetween the two, and produce any mixture of sentiment.
When Dr Fillgrave was first shown into Sir Roger's dining-room, hewalked up and down the room for a while with easy, jaunty step, withhis hands joined together behind his back, calculating the priceof the furniture, and counting the heads which might be adequatelyentertained in a room of such noble proportions; but in seven oreight minutes an air of impatience might have been seen to suffusehis face. Why could he not be shown into the sick man's room? Whatnecessity could there be for keeping him there, as though he weresome apothecary with a box of leeches in his pocket? He then rangthe bell, perhaps a little violently. "Does Sir Roger know that I amhere?" he said to the servant. "I'll tell my lady," said the man,again vanishing.
For five minutes more he walked up and down, calculating no longerthe value of the furniture, but rather that of his own importance.He was not wont to be kept waiting in this way; and though Sir RogerScatcherd was at present a great and rich man, Dr Fillgrave hadremembered him a very small and a very poor man. He now began tothink of Sir Roger as the stone-mason, and to chafe somewhat moreviolently at being so kept by such a man.
When one is impatient, five minutes is as the duration of all time,and a quarter of an hour is eternity. At the end of twenty minutesthe step of Dr Fillgrave up and down the room had become very quick,and he had just made up his mind that he would not stay there allday to the serious detriment, perhaps fatal injury, of his otherexpectant patients. His hand was again on the bell, and was about tobe used with vigour, when the door opened and Lady Scatcherd entered.
The door opened and Lady Scatcherd entered; but she did so veryslowly, as though she were afraid to come into her own dining-room.We must go back a little and see how she had been employed duringthose twenty minutes.
"Oh, laws!" Such had been her first exclamation on hearing that thedoctor was in the dining-room. She was standing at the time with herhousekeeper in a small room in which she kept her linen and jam,and in which, in company with the same housekeeper, she spent thehappiest moments of her life.
"Oh laws! now, Hannah, what shall we do?"
"Send 'un up at once to master, my lady! let John take 'un up."
"There'll be such a row in the house, Hannah; I know there will."
"But sure-ly didn't he send for 'un? Let the master have the rowhimself, then; that's what I'd do, my lady," added Hannah, seeingthat her ladyship still stood trembling in doubt, biting herthumb-nail.
"You couldn't go up to the master yourself, could you now, Hannah?"said Lady Scatcherd in her most persuasive tone.
"Why no," said Hannah, after a little deliberation "no, I'm afeard Icouldn't."
"Then I must just face it myself." And up went the wife to tell herlord that the physician for whom he had sent had come to attend hisbidding.
In the interview which then took place the baronet had not indeedbeen violent, but he had been very determined. Nothing on earth, hesaid, should induce him to see Dr Fillgrave and offend his dear oldfriend Dr Thorne.
"But Roger," said her ladyship, half crying, or rather pretending tocry in her vexation, "what shall I do with the man? How shall I gethim out of the house?"
"Put him under
the pump," said the baronet; and he laughed hispeculiar low guttural laugh, which told so plainly of the havoc whichbrandy had made in his throat.
"That's nonsense, Roger; you know I can't put him under the pump. Nowyou are ill, and you'd better see him just for five minutes. I'llmake it all right with Dr Thorne."
"I'll be d---- if I do, my lady." All the people about Boxall Hillcalled poor Lady Scatcherd "my lady" as if there was some excellentjoke in it; and, so, indeed, there was.
"You know you needn't mind nothing he says, nor yet take nothing hesends: and I'll tell him not to come no more. Now do 'ee see him,Roger."
But there was no coaxing Roger over now, or indeed ever: he was awilful, headstrong, masterful man; a tyrant always though nevera cruel one; and accustomed to rule his wife and household asdespotically as he did his gangs of workmen. Such men it is not easyto coax over.
"You go down and tell him I don't want him, and won't see him, andthat's an end of it. If he chose to earn his money, why didn't hecome yesterday when he was sent for? I'm well now, and don't wanthim; and what's more, I won't have him. Winterbones, lock the door."
So Winterbones, who during this interview had been at work at hislittle table, got up to lock the door, and Lady Scatcherd had noalternative but to pass through it before the last edict was obeyed.
Lady Scatcherd, with slow step, went downstairs and again soughtcounsel with Hannah, and the two, putting their heads together,agreed that the only cure for the present evil was to be found in agood fee. So Lady Scatcherd, with a five-pound note in her hand, andtrembling in every limb, went forth to encounter the august presenceof Dr Fillgrave.
As the door opened, Dr Fillgrave dropped the bell-rope which was inhis hand, and bowed low to the lady. Those who knew the doctor well,would have known from his bow that he was not well pleased; it wasas much as though he said, "Lady Scatcherd, I am your most obedienthumble servant; at any rate it appears that it is your pleasure totreat me as such."
Lady Scatcherd did not understand all this; but she perceived at oncethat the man was angry.
"I hope Sir Roger does not find himself worse," said the doctor. "Themorning is getting on shall I step up and see him?"
"Hem! ha! oh! Why, you see, Dr Fillgrave, Sir Roger finds hisselfvastly better this morning, vastly so."
"I'm very glad to hear it; but as the morning is getting on, shall Istep up to see Sir Roger?"
"Why, Dr Fillgrave, sir, you see, he finds hisself so much hisselfthis morning, that he a'most thinks it would be a shame to troubleyou."
"A shame to trouble me!" This was the sort of shame which DrFillgrave did not at all comprehend. "A shame to trouble me! Why LadyScatcherd--"
Lady Scatcherd saw that she had nothing for it but to make the wholematter intelligible. Moreover, seeing that she appreciated morethoroughly the smallness of Dr Fillgrave's person than she did thepeculiar greatness of his demeanour, she began to be a shade lessafraid of him than she had thought she should have been.
"Yes, Dr Fillgrave; you see, when a man like he gets well, he can'tabide the idea of doctors: now, yesterday, he was all for sending foryou; but to-day he comes to hisself, and don't seem to want no doctorat all."
Then did Dr Fillgrave seem to grow out of his boots, so suddenly didhe take upon himself sundry modes of expansive attitude;--to grow outof his boots and to swell upwards, till his angry eyes almost lookeddown on Lady Scatcherd, and each erect hair bristled up towards theheavens.
"This is very singular, very singular, Lady Scatcherd; very singular,indeed; very singular; quite unusual. I have come here fromBarchester, at some considerable inconvenience, at some veryconsiderable inconvenience, I may say, to my regular patients;and--and--and--I don't know that anything so very singular everoccurred to me before." And then Dr Fillgrave, with a compression ofhis lips which almost made the poor woman sink into the ground, movedtowards the door.
Then Lady Scatcherd bethought her of her great panacea. "It isn'tabout the money, you know, doctor," said she; "of course Sir Rogerdon't expect you to come here with post-horses for nothing." In this,by the by, Lady Scatcherd did not stick quite close to veracity,for Sir Roger, had he known it, would by no means have assented toany payment; and the note which her ladyship held in her hand wastaken from her own private purse. "It ain't at all about the money,doctor;" and then she tendered the bank-note, which she thought wouldimmediately make all things smooth.
Now Dr Fillgrave dearly loved a five-pound fee. What physician is sounnatural as not to love it? He dearly loved a five-pound fee; but heloved his dignity better. He was angry also; and like all angry men,he loved his grievance. He felt that he had been badly treated; butif he took the money he would throw away his right to indulge in anysuch feeling. At that moment his outraged dignity and his cherishedanger were worth more than a five-pound note. He looked at it withwishful but still averted eyes, and then sternly refused the tender.
"No, madam," said he; "no, no;" and with his right hand raised withhis eye-glasses in it, he motioned away the tempting paper. "No; Ishould have been happy to have given Sir Roger the benefit of anymedical skill I may have, seeing that I was specially called in--"
"But, doctor; if the man's well, you know--"
"Oh, of course; if he's well, and does not choose to see me, there'san end of it. Should he have any relapse, as my time is valuable, hewill perhaps oblige me by sending elsewhere. Madam, good morning.I will, if you will allow me, ring for my carriage--that is,post-chaise."
"But, doctor, you'll take the money; you must take the money; indeedyou'll take the money," said Lady Scatcherd, who had now becomereally unhappy at the idea that her husband's unpardonable whim hadbrought this man with post-horses all the way from Barchester, andthat he was to be paid nothing for his time nor costs.
"No, madam, no. I could not think of it. Sir Roger, I have no doubt,will know better another time. It is not a question of money; not atall."
"But it is a question of money, doctor; and you really shall, youmust." And poor Lady Scatcherd, in her anxiety to acquit herself atany rate of any pecuniary debt to the doctor, came to personal closequarters with him, with the view of forcing the note into his hands.
"Quite impossible, quite impossible," said the doctor, stillcherishing his grievance, and valiantly rejecting the root of allevil. "I shall not do anything of the kind, Lady Scatcherd."
"Now doctor, do 'ee; to oblige me."
"Quite out of the question." And so, with his hands and hat behindhis back, in token of his utter refusal to accept any pecuniaryaccommodation of his injury, he made his way backwards to the door,her ladyship perseveringly pressing him in front. So eager had beenthe attack on him, that he had not waited to give his order about thepost-chaise, but made his way at once towards the hall.
"Now, do 'ee take it, do 'ee," pressed Lady Scatcherd.
"Utterly out of the question," said Dr Fillgrave, with greatdeliberation, as he backed his way into the hall. As he did so, ofcourse he turned round,--and he found himself almost in the arms ofDr Thorne.
As Burley must have glared at Bothwell when they rushed together inthe dread encounter on the mountain side; as Achilles may have glaredat Hector when at last they met, each resolved to test in fatalconflict the prowess of the other, so did Dr Fillgrave glare at hisfoe from Greshamsbury, when, on turning round on his exalted heel,he found his nose on a level with the top button of Dr Thorne'swaistcoat.
And here, if it be not too tedious, let us pause a while torecapitulate and add up the undoubted grievances of the Barchesterpractitioner. He had made no effort to ingratiate himself into thesheepfold of that other shepherd-dog; it was not by his seeking thathe was now at Boxall Hill; much as he hated Dr Thorne, full sureas he felt of that man's utter ignorance, of his incapacity toadminister properly even a black dose, of his murdering propensitiesand his low, mean, unprofessional style of practice; nevertheless, hehad done nothing to undermine him with these Scatcherds. Dr Thornemight have sent every mother's son at Boxall H
ill to his longaccount, and Dr Fillgrave would not have interfered;--would not haveinterfered unless specially and duly called upon to do so.
But he had been specially and duly called on. Before such a step wastaken some words must undoubtedly have passed on the subject betweenThorne and the Scatcherds. Thorne must have known what was to bedone. Having been so called, Dr Fillgrave had come--had come all theway in a post-chaise--had been refused admittance to the sick man'sroom, on the plea that the sick man was no longer sick; and just ashe was about to retire fee-less--for the want of the fee was notthe less a grievance from the fact of its having been tendered andrefused--fee-less, dishonoured, and in dudgeon, he encountered thisother doctor--this very rival whom he had been sent to supplant; heencountered him in the very act of going to the sick man's room.
What mad fanatic Burley, what god-succoured insolent Achilles,ever had such cause to swell with wrath as at that moment had DrFillgrave? Had I the pen of Moliere, I could fitly tell of suchmedical anger, but with no other pen can it be fitly told. He didswell, and when the huge bulk of his wrath was added to his naturalproportions, he loomed gigantic before the eyes of the surroundingfollowers of Sir Roger.
Dr Thorne stepped back three steps and took his hat from his head,having, in the passage from the hall-door to the dining-room,hitherto omitted to do so. It must be borne in mind that he had noconception whatever that Sir Roger had declined to see the physicianfor whom he had sent; none whatever that the physician was now aboutto return, fee-less, to Barchester.
Dr Thorne and Dr Fillgrave were doubtless well-known enemies. Allthe world of Barchester, and all that portion of the world of Londonwhich is concerned with the lancet and the scalping-knife, were wellaware of this: they were continually writing against each other;continually speaking against each other; but yet they had neverhitherto come to that positive personal collision which is held tojustify a cut direct. They very rarely saw each other; and when theydid meet, it was in some casual way in the streets of Barchester orelsewhere, and on such occasions their habit had been to bow withvery cold propriety.
On the present occasion, Dr Thorne of course felt that Dr Fillgravehad the whip-hand of him; and, with a sort of manly feeling onsuch a point, he conceived it to be most compatible with his owndignity to show, under such circumstances, more than his usualcourtesy--something, perhaps, amounting almost to cordiality. Hehad been supplanted, _quoad_ doctor, in the house of this rich,eccentric, railway baronet, and he would show that he bore no maliceon that account.
So he smiled blandly as he took off his hat, and in a civil speech heexpressed a hope that Dr Fillgrave had not found his patient to be inany very unfavourable state.
Here was an aggravation to the already lacerated feelings of theinjured man. He had been brought thither to be scoffed at and scornedat, that he might be a laughing-stock to his enemies, and foodfor mirth to the vile-minded. He swelled with noble anger till hewould have burst, had it not been for the opportune padding of hisfrock-coat.
"Sir," said he; "sir:" and he could hardly get his lips open to givevent to the tumult of his heart. Perhaps he was not wrong; for it maybe that his lips were more eloquent than would have been his words.
"What's the matter?" said Dr Thorne, opening his eyes wide, andaddressing Lady Scatcherd over the head and across the hairs of theirritated man below him. "What on earth is the matter? Is anythingwrong with Sir Roger?"
"Oh, laws, doctor!" said her ladyship. "Oh, laws; I'm sure it ain'tmy fault. Here's Dr Fillgrave in a taking, and I'm quite ready topay him,--quite. If a man gets paid, what more can he want?" And sheagain held out the five-pound note over Dr Fillgrave's head.
What more, indeed, Lady Scatcherd, can any of us want, if onlywe could keep our tempers and feelings a little in abeyance? DrFillgrave, however, could not so keep his; and, therefore, he didwant something more, though at the present moment he could havehardly said what.
Lady Scatcherd's courage was somewhat resuscitated by the presence ofher ancient trusty ally; and, moreover, she began to conceive thatthe little man before her was unreasonable beyond all conscience inhis anger, seeing that that for which he was ready to work had beenoffered to him without any work at all.
"Madam," said he, again turning round at Lady Scatcherd, "I wasnever before treated in such a way in any house in Barchester--never--never."
"Good heavens, Dr Fillgrave!" said he of Greshamsbury, "what is thematter?"
"I'll let you know what is the matter, sir," said he, turning roundagain as quickly as before. "I'll let you know what is the matter.I'll publish this, sir, to the medical world;" and as he shriekedout the words of the threat, he stood on tiptoes and brandished hiseye-glasses up almost into his enemy's face.
"Don't be angry with Dr Thorne," said Lady Scatcherd. "Any ways, youneedn't be angry with him. If you must be angry with anybody--"
"I shall be angry with him, madam," ejaculated Dr Fillgrave, makinganother sudden demi-pirouette. "I am angry with him--or, rather, Idespise him;" and completing the circle, Dr Fillgrave again broughthimself round in full front of his foe.
Dr Thorne raised his eyebrows and looked inquiringly at LadyScatcherd; but there was a quiet sarcastic motion round his mouthwhich by no means had the effect of throwing oil on the troubledwaters.
"I'll publish the whole of this transaction to the medical world, DrThorne--the whole of it; and if that has not the effect of rescuingthe people of Greshamsbury out of your hands, then--then--then, Idon't know what will. Is my carriage--that is, post-chaise there?"and Dr Fillgrave, speaking very loudly, turned majestically to one ofthe servants.
"What have I done to you, Dr Fillgrave," said Dr Thorne, nowabsolutely laughing, "that you should determine to take my bread outof my mouth? I am not interfering with your patient. I have come heresimply with reference to money matters appertaining to Sir Roger."
"Money matters! Very well--very well; money matters. That is youridea of medical practice! Very well--very well. Is my post-chaise atthe door? I'll publish it all to the medical world--every word--everyword of it, every word of it."
"Publish what, you unreasonable man?"
"Man! sir; whom do you call a man? I'll let you know whether I'm aman--post-chaise there!"
"Don't 'ee call him names now, doctor; don't 'ee, pray don't 'ee,"said Lady Scatcherd.
By this time they had all got somewhere nearer the hall-door; but theScatcherd retainers were too fond of the row to absent themselveswillingly at Dr Fillgrave's bidding, and it did not appear that anyone went in search of the post-chaise.
"Man! sir; I'll let you know what it is to speak to me in that style.I think, sir, you hardly know who I am."
"All that I know of you at present is, that you are my friend SirRoger's physician, and I cannot conceive what has occurred to makeyou so angry." And as he spoke, Dr Thorne looked carefully at him tosee whether that pump-discipline had in truth been applied. Therewere no signs whatever that cold water had been thrown upon DrFillgrave.
"My post-chaise--is my post-chaise there? The medical world shallknow all; you may be sure, sir, the medical world shall know it all;"and thus, ordering his post-chaise, and threatening Dr Thorne withthe medical world, Dr Fillgrave made his way to the door.
But the moment he put on his hat he returned. "No, madam," saidhe. "No; it is quite out of the question: such an affair is notto be arranged by such means. I'll publish it all to the medicalworld--post-chaise there!" and then, using all his force, he flungas far as he could into the hall a light bit of paper. It fell at DrThorne's feet, who, raising it, found that it was a five-pound note.
"I put it into his hat just while he was in his tantrum," said LadyScatcherd. "And I thought that perhaps he would not find it till hegot to Barchester. Well I wish he'd been paid, certainly, althoughSir Roger wouldn't see him;" and in this manner Dr Thorne got someglimpse of understanding into the cause of the great offence.
"I wonder whether Sir Roger will see _me_," said he, laughing.