THE London Spy presents his most respectful compliments and thanks to Dr. Lettsom, for the honour he has done him in condescending to take notice of his letter in this paper of the 6th instant. As Dr. Lettsom professes the good of the public to be the principle which actuates him in this business, the London Spy begs leave to declare he is induced to take part in it by the same motive only; he therefore wishes to meet Dr. L. on that ground, which is most likely to prove conducive to that valuable end. But previous to the main enquiry it may be proper to make a few observations on what this scientific Doctor has thought proper to advance. He presumes Dr. Myersbach “has hired this spy, as a person ready to write any thing for pay, and, like many others at his own door, prepared to propagate a thousand stories to deceive the numberless objects that present themselves for cure.” Indeed, Doctor, if your skill in physic be as meagre as your candour, I would not put the sick sister of your brorher[sic] F—’s monkey under your care. By what right, Sir, upon what ground, do you presume to pronounce this spy a mercenary scribbler prepared to propagate falshood[sic] and deceit, which have a tendency to injure the health and take away the lives of objects already too wretched? For the present I will answer for you, leaving you to give a better when you are able. You, Sir, being bred to a lucrative profession, whose practitioners are equally paid kill or cure, can frame no idea of the possibility of a man’s putting pen to paper without a fee. Great as your penetration may be, Sir, you have egregiously missed it for once. The London Spy, the author of the letter you allude to, and of one before under the same signature, and upon the same subject, hereby assures you that the person of Dr. Myersbach is perfectly unknown to him, havin[sic], to the best of his knowledge never seen him in his life. Nor does he know any thing relative to his education, former employments, or manner of life, except from common report, upon which no dependence can be made.
But as our correspondence, Sir, may probably not end here, I hold it fit to be a little more explicit with you. I am not what you have been pleased to characterise me, one that scribbles for hire in a most opprobrious employment, but a Quack; in your scientific sense of the word, Sir, an arrant Quack: that is, one that practices physic as often as a job offers, without having passed that course of discipline which entitles to kill with impunity, as I suppose your learned Worship has done. Confess and be hanged. Now the mystery is out. It can be no wonder that one Quack should write in defence of another; because, by that artifice the former is promoting his own interest under the cloak and pretence of serving the latter. Think you so, Sir? here again then I will undeceive you. The truth is, I have no interest to serve, according to your idea of the word interest. It has cost me many a pound for drugs and medicines, but I have never received a shilling for any in my life. A method of practice this, Doctor, you will give me leave to presume, in my turn, you are an absolute stranger to. A method, not calculated to fill the pockets, nor to enable the Doctor to swim in his gilt chariot; but, if you’ll believe a Quack, what sits mighty easy on the stomach, and leaves no qualms of conscience behind it.
How, Sir! does not “that letter contain a single article in favour of the Doctor of Urines,” as you so wittily are pleased to call the object of your envy? There is such an article of cures, which I verily believe is most exactly true in every sentence, that would do honour to the very first sons of Æsculapius; and I here call upon you to produce a greater in the vast comprehension and extent of your physical knowledge. This is not a slight suppose for a matter of fact, as you are pleased, though falsely, to call it; but an incontestable fact, opposed to an evasive conclusion, which is a clearer and stronger refutation of your observations than a cart-load of sophistical arguments.
If I do myself the honour of waiting upon you in Eastcheap, it seems it must be soon; by which I understand you are a man of dispatch. That your patients should not long survive in their present situation, is perhaps a matter of no great wonder; for that constitution must indeed be tough which can hold out long against the disease and the doctor. If your account of this matter be true, it redounds little to your honour, as his patients, who are so unfortunate as to fall under your care, are, it seems, to die soon, by half-dozens; whereas, those who have been dying under the hands of the most reputable of the faculty have, when they have been so unfortunate as to apply to him, been restored to life and health with great ease and in a short time. The difference, Sir, is only this, the former kills those perhaps the latter could not cure, and the latter cures those the former would have killed secundum artem.
It would be trespassing too much on the paper to go through the whole of your letter, the remainder must therefore accompany my respects to you another opportunity.
I am, Sir, your’s, &c.
Sept. 19. THE LONDON SPY.
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British Library Newspaper Collection Colindale - Burney Collection
24 September 1776 (14,849) Page 2 Column 2 |