Chapter 22.00: Chapter ix. — A proof of the infallibility of the foregoing receipt, in the lamentations of the widow; with other suitable decorations of death, such as physicians, &c., and an epitaph in the true stile.

**
Chapter ix. — A proof of the infallibility of the foregoing receipt,
in the lamentations of the widow; with other suitable decorations of
death, such as physicians, &c., and an epitaph in the true stile.
**

Mr Allworthy, his sister, and another lady, were assembled at the
accustomed hour in the supper-room, where, having waited a considerable
time longer than usual, Mr Allworthy first declared he began to grow
uneasy at the captain's stay (for he was always most punctual at his
meals); and gave orders that the bell should be rung without the doors,
and especially towards those walks which the captain was wont to use.

All these summons proving ineffectual (for the captain had, by perverse
accident, betaken himself to a new walk that evening), Mrs Blifil declared
she was seriously frightened. Upon which the other lady, who was one of
her most intimate acquaintance, and who well knew the true state of her
affections, endeavoured all she could to pacify her, telling her—To
be sure she could not help being uneasy; but that she should hope the
best. That, perhaps the sweetness of the evening had inticed the captain
to go farther than his usual walk: or he might be detained at some
neighbour's. Mrs Blifil answered, No; she was sure some accident had
befallen him; for that he would never stay out without sending her word,
as he must know how uneasy it would make her. The other lady, having no
other arguments to use, betook herself to the entreaties usual on such
occasions, and begged her not to frighten herself, for it might be of very
ill consequence to her own health; and, filling out a very large glass of
wine, advised, and at last prevailed with her to drink it.

Mr Allworthy now returned into the parlour; for he had been himself in
search after the captain. His countenance sufficiently showed the
consternation he was under, which, indeed, had a good deal deprived him of
speech; but as grief operates variously on different minds, so the same
apprehension which depressed his voice, elevated that of Mrs Blifil. She
now began to bewail herself in very bitter terms, and floods of tears
accompanied her lamentations; which the lady, her companion, declared she
could not blame, but at the same time dissuaded her from indulging;
attempting to moderate the grief of her friend by philosophical
observations on the many disappointments to which human life is daily
subject, which, she said, was a sufficient consideration to fortify our
minds against any accidents, how sudden or terrible soever. She said her
brother's example ought to teach her patience, who, though indeed he could
not be supposed as much concerned as herself, yet was, doubtless, very
uneasy, though his resignation to the Divine will had restrained his grief
within due bounds.

“Mention not my brother,” said Mrs Blifil; “I alone am
the object of your pity. What are the terrors of friendship to what a wife
feels on these occasions? Oh, he is lost! Somebody hath murdered him—I
shall never see him more!”—Here a torrent of tears had the
same consequence with what the suppression had occasioned to Mr Allworthy,
and she remained silent.

At this interval a servant came running in, out of breath, and cried out,
The captain was found; and, before he could proceed farther, he was
followed by two more, bearing the dead body between them.

Here the curious reader may observe another diversity in the operations of
grief: for as Mr Allworthy had been before silent, from the same cause
which had made his sister vociferous; so did the present sight, which drew
tears from the gentleman, put an entire stop to those of the lady; who
first gave a violent scream, and presently after fell into a fit.

The room was soon full of servants, some of whom, with the lady visitant,
were employed in care of the wife; and others, with Mr Allworthy, assisted
in carrying off the captain to a warm bed; where every method was tried,
in order to restore him to life.

And glad should we be, could we inform the reader that both these bodies
had been attended with equal success; for those who undertook the care of
the lady succeeded so well, that, after the fit had continued a decent
time, she again revived, to their great satisfaction: but as to the
captain, all experiments of bleeding, chafing, dropping, &c., proved
ineffectual. Death, that inexorable judge, had passed sentence on him, and
refused to grant him a reprieve, though two doctors who arrived, and were
fee'd at one and the same instant, were his counsel.

These two doctors, whom, to avoid any malicious applications, we shall
distinguish by the names of Dr Y. And Dr Z., having felt his pulse; to
wit, Dr Y. His right arm, and Dr Z. His left; both agreed that he was
absolutely dead; but as to the distemper, or cause of his death, they
differed; Dr Y. Holding that he died of an apoplexy, and Dr Z. Of an
epilepsy.

Hence arose a dispute between the learned men, in which each delivered the
reasons of their several opinions. These were of such equal force, that
they served both to confirm either doctor in his own sentiments, and made
not the least impression on his adversary.

To say the truth, every physician almost hath his favourite disease, to
which he ascribes all the victories obtained over human nature. The gout,
the rheumatism, the stone, the gravel, and the consumption, have all their
several patrons in the faculty; and none more than the nervous fever, or
the fever on the spirits. And here we may account for those disagreements
in opinion, concerning the cause of a patient's death, which sometimes
occur, between the most learned of the college; and which have greatly
surprized that part of the world who have been ignorant of the fact we
have above asserted.

The reader may perhaps be surprized, that, instead of endeavouring to
revive the patient, the learned gentlemen should fall immediately into a
dispute on the occasion of his death; but in reality all such experiments
had been made before their arrival: for the captain was put into a warm
bed, had his veins scarified, his forehead chafed, and all sorts of strong
drops applied to his lips and nostrils.

The physicians, therefore, finding themselves anticipated in everything
they ordered, were at a loss how to apply that portion of time which it is
usual and decent to remain for their fee, and were therefore necessitated
to find some subject or other for discourse; and what could more naturally
present itself than that before mentioned?

Our doctors were about to take their leave, when Mr Allworthy, having
given over the captain, and acquiesced in the Divine will, began to
enquire after his sister, whom he desired them to visit before their
departure.

This lady was now recovered of her fit, and, to use the common phrase, as
well as could be expected for one in her condition. The doctors,
therefore, all previous ceremonies being complied with, as this was a new
patient, attended, according to desire, and laid hold on each of her
hands, as they had before done on those of the corpse.

The case of the lady was in the other extreme from that of her husband:
for as he was past all the assistance of physic, so in reality she
required none.

There is nothing more unjust than the vulgar opinion, by which physicians
are misrepresented, as friends to death. On the contrary, I believe, if
the number of those who recover by physic could be opposed to that of the
martyrs to it, the former would rather exceed the latter. Nay, some are so
cautious on this head, that, to avoid a possibility of killing the
patient, they abstain from all methods of curing, and prescribe nothing
but what can neither do good nor harm. I have heard some of these, with
great gravity, deliver it as a maxim, “That Nature should be left to
do her own work, while the physician stands by as it were to clap her on
the back, and encourage her when she doth well.”

So little then did our doctors delight in death, that they discharged the
corpse after a single fee; but they were not so disgusted with their
living patient; concerning whose case they immediately agreed, and fell to
prescribing with great diligence.

Whether, as the lady had at first persuaded her physicians to believe her
ill, they had now, in return, persuaded her to believe herself so, I will
not determine; but she continued a whole month with all the decorations of
sickness. During this time she was visited by physicians, attended by
nurses, and received constant messages from her acquaintance to enquire
after her health.

At length the decent time for sickness and immoderate grief being expired,
the doctors were discharged, and the lady began to see company; being
altered only from what she was before, by that colour of sadness in which
she had dressed her person and countenance.

The captain was now interred, and might, perhaps, have already made a
large progress towards oblivion, had not the friendship of Mr Allworthy
taken care to preserve his memory, by the following epitaph, which was
written by a man of as great genius as integrity, and one who perfectly
well knew the captain.

HERE LIES,
IN EXPECTATION OF A JOYFUL RISING,
THE BODY OF

CAPTAIN JOHN BLIFIL.

LONDON
HAD THE HONOUR OF HIS BIRTH,
OXFORD
OF HIS EDUCATION.

HIS PARTS
WERE AN HONOUR TO HIS PROFESSION
AND TO HIS COUNTRY:
HIS LIFE, TO HIS RELIGION
AND HUMAN NATURE.
HE WAS A DUTIFUL SON,
A TENDER HUSBAND,
AN AFFECTIONATE FATHER,
A MOST KIND BROTHER,
A SINCERE FRIEND,
A DEVOUT CHRISTIAN,
AND A GOOD MAN.

HIS INCONSOLABLE WIDOW
HATH ERECTED THIS STONE,
THE MONUMENT OF
HIS VIRTUES
AND OF HER AFFECTION.