A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep; or taste not the Pierian spring.[154]
I mean no disrespect to your generation, Sir Patrick: some of you old stagers did marvels through sheer professional intuition and clinical experience; but when I think of the average men of your day, ignorantly bleeding and cupping and purging, and scattering germs over their patients from their clothes and instruments, and contrast all that with the scientific certainty and simplicity of my treatment of the little prince the other day, I cant help being proud of my own generation : the men who were trained on the germ theory, the veterans of the great struggle over Evolution in the seventies. We may have our faults; but at least we are men of science. That is why I am taking up your treatment, Ridgeon, and pushing it. It’s scientific. [He sits down on the chair near the couch].
EMMY [at the door, announcing] Dr Blenkinsop.
DR BLENKINSOP is in very different case from the others. He is clearly not a prosperous man. He is flabby and shabby, cheaply fed and cheaply clothed. He has the lines made by a conscience between his eyes, and the lines made by continual money worries all over his face, cut all the deeper as he has seen better days, and hails his well-to-do colleagues as their contemporary and old hospital friend, though even in this he has to struggle with the diffidence of poverty and relegation to the poorer middle class.
RIDGEON How are you, Blenkinsop?
BLENKINSOP Ive come to offer my humble congratulations. Oh dear! all the great guns are before me.
B. B. [patronizing, but charming] How d‘ye do, Blenkinsop? How d’ye do?
BLENKINSOP And Sir Patrick, too! [SIR PATRICK grunts].
RIDGEON Youve met Walpole, of course?
WALPOLE How d‘ye do?
BLENKINSOP It’s the first time Ive had that honor. In my poor little practice there are no chances of meeting you great men. I know nobody but the St Anne’s men of my own day. [To RIDGEON] And so youre Sir Colenso. How does it feel?
RIDGEON Foolish at first. Dont take any notice of it.
BLENKINSOP I’m ashamed to say I havnt a notion what your great discovery is; but I congratulate you all the same for the sake of old times.
B. B. [shocked] But, my dear Blenkinsop, you used to be rather keen on science.
BLENKINSOP Ah, I used to be a lot of things. I used to have two or three decent suits of clothes, and flannels to go up the river on Sundays. Look at me now: this is my best; and it must last till Christmas. What can I do? Ive never opened a book since I was qualified thirty years ago. I used to read the medical papers at first; but you know how soon a man drops that; besides, I cant afford them; and what are they after all but trade papers, full of advertisements? Ive forgotten all my science : whats the use of my pretending I havnt? But I have great experience: clinical experience; and bedside experience is the main thing, isnt it?
B. B. No doubt; always provided, mind you, that you have a sound scientific theory to correlate your observations at the bedside. Mere experience by itself is nothing. If I take my dog to the bedside with me, he sees what I see. But he learns nothing from it. Why? Because he’s not a scientific dog.
WALPOLE It amuses me to hear you physicians and general practitioners talking about clinical experience. What do you see at the bedside but the outside of the patient? Well: it isnt his outside thats wrong, except perhaps in skin cases. What you want is a daily familiarity with people’s insides; and that you can only get at the operating table. I know what I’m talking about: Ive been a surgeon and a consultant for twenty years; and Ive never known a general practitioner right in his diagnosis yet. Bring them a perfectly simple case; and they diagnose cancer, and arthritis, and appendicitis, and every other itis, when any really experienced surgeon can see that it’s a plain case of blood-poisoning.
BLENKINSOP Ah, it’s easy for you gentlemen to talk; but what would you say if you had my practice? Except for the workmen’s clubs, my patients are all clerks and shopmen. They darent be ill: they cant afford it. And when they break down, what can I do for them? Youcan send your people to St Moritz or to Egypt, or recommend horse exercise or motoring or champagne jelly or complete change and rest for six months. I might as well order my people a slice of the moon. And the worst of it is, I’m too poor to keep well myself on the cooking I have to put up with. Ive such a wretched digestion; and I look it. How am I to inspire confidence? [He sits disconsolately on the couch].
RIDGEON [restlessly] Dont, Blenkinsop: it’s too painful. The most tragic thing in the world is a sick doctor.
WALPOLE Yes, by George: its like a bald-headed man trying to sell a hair restorer. Thank God I’m a surgeon!
B. B. (sunnily) I am never sick. Never had a day’s illness in my life. Thats what enables me to sympathize with my patients.
WALPOLE [interested] What! youre never ill?
B. B. Never.
WALPOLE Thats interesting. I believe you have no nuciform sac. If you ever do feel at all queer, I should very much like to have a look.
B. B. Thank you, my dear fellow; but I’m too busy just now.
RIDGEON I was just telling them when you came in, Blenkinsop, that I have worked myself out of sorts.
BLENKINSOP Well, it seems presumptuous of me to offer a prescription to a great man like you; but still I have great experience ; and if I might recommend a pound of ripe greengages every day half an hour before lunch, I’m sure youd find a benefit. Theyre very cheap.
RIDGEON What do you say to that B. B.?
B. B. [encouragingly] Very sensible, Blenkinsop: very sensible indeed. I’m delighted to see that you disapprove of drugs.
SIR PATRICK [grunts]!
B. B. [archly] Aha! Haha! Did I hear from the fireside armchair the bow-wow of the old school defending its drugs? Ah, believe me, Paddy, the world would be healthier if every chemist’s shop in England were demolished. Look at the papers ! full of scandalous advertisements of patent medicines! a huge commercial system of quackery and poison. Well, whose fault is it? Ours. I say, ours. We set the example. We spread the superstition. We taught the people to believe in bottles of doctor’s stuff; and now they buy it at the stores instead of consulting a medical man.
WALPOLE Quite true. Ive not prescribed a drug for the last fifteen years.
B. B. Drugs can only repress symptoms: they cannot eradicate disease. The true remedy for all diseases is Nature’s remedy. Nature and Science are at one, Sir Patrick, believe me; though you were taught differently. Nature has provided, in the white corpuscles as you call them — in the phagocytes as we call them — a natural means of devouring and destroying all disease germs. There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes. Stimulate the phagocytes. Drugs are a delusion. Find the germ of the disease; prepare from it a suitable anti-toxin; inject it three times a day quarter of an hour before meals; and what is the result? The phagocytes are stimulated; they devour the disease ; and the patient recovers — unless, of course, he’s too far gone. That, I take it, is the essence of Ridgeon’s discovery.
SIR PATRICK [dreamily] As I sit here, I seem to hear my poor old father talking again.
B. B. [rising in incredulous amazement] Your father! But, Lord bless my soul, Paddy, your father must have been an older man than you.
SIR PATRICK Word for word almost, he said what you say. No more drugs. Nothing but inoculation.
154
Quotation from Alexander Pope’s “Essay on Criticism,” this time accurate (see footnote to page 196).