THE

LOUNGER'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK.

ADAIR, ROBERT, a surgeon, a good-natured pleasant man, a favourite of princes, of women, and of fortune, whose unassuming mediocrity of talent has not protected him from the industrious watchfulness of modern biography. Detection in an early amour drove him precipitately from Dublin, and, after filling the post of an army surgeon for several years, he fortunately attracted the notice of Lady Caroline Keppel, a daughter of the Earl of Albemarle, and sister to the gallant admiral, who fought, or would have fought, the French handsomely, off Ushant. Adair's marriage with a woman of quality introduced him to good business as well as good company; he was a few months after appointed inspector-general of military hospitals, an office in which his frugal expenditure of public money attracted the notice and received the marked approbation of his royal master; while his affability and mild manners were a striking contrast to the harsh severity and rugged peevishness of some of his professional contemporaries. Although publicly parsimonious, he was from his own stores privately generous; he became the best friend of the private soldier, and of a class of men who may often look with envy on the condition of a private soldier. I mean those unhappy subalterns, whose parents having been mad and cruel enough to sink the whole of their son's fortune in an ensigncy, or a lieutenant's commission, have doomed him to exist in splendid poverty on four shillings a day.

Lady Caroline, who died consumptive a few years after her marriage, ought not to be mentioned without a reflection on what are commonly called great matches: that in many instances they conduct a private individual to honour and wealth, and, as was the case with the subject of our present article, to nuptial happiness, is an undoubted fact; but it cannot be denied, that indifference, reproach, and family discord, are the natural and too frequent consequences of unequal alliance. Enchanting form, immense wealth, and brilliant accomplishment, however they may be the general objects of pursuit, are by no means essential

to happiness; a useful friend and unassuming companion, with more humble acquirements, and whose fortune, rank, and intellect, are nearly on an equality with her husband's, is more likely to bring the invaluable marriage portion of internal comfort and domestic peace.

On the death of Mr. Ranby, the favourite surgeon of King George the Second, a man of strong passions, harsh voice, and inelegant manners, the subject of this article succeeded him in a lucrative post; and, on the strength of personal attachment, is said to have prevailed on a goodnatured king to break his word, as the appointment had been promised to David Middleton, a veteran in the service of his royal master's family. Adair, however, secured a good thing, and honest David, as has been the fate of many a greater man, died with a king in his debt.

It was not long after that this fortunate Irishman was despatched on a business of life and death, to attend the Duke of Gloucester, on the continent, and he enjoyed the credit of snatching the king's brother from the grave: on this occasion he was introduced to and enjoyed frequent conversations with the excellent Ganganelli, Clement the Fourteenth, whom I have ever called the Protestant Pope. Having visited different parts of Europe in the suite of his recovered patient, Mr. Adair returned to England, to reap the rewards of augmented fame and regal gratitude, when an opportunity offered of exerting his benevolence and philanthropy with singular efficacy and success.

His friend Mr. Hesse, of the army pay-office, and I believe a commissary of musters, a man of pleasing manners, general acquaintance in polite circles, and at a certain time, of competent income, but not of a solid understanding, had unhappily been seduced, by the dissipating madness of the times, to form habits and indulge in expenses inconsistent with his rank and fortune. Although his affairs had for some time been desperate, his pride or his folly would not suffer him to retrench; he regarded with dread the contemptuous sneer of the world, at least that despicable dissipated drove which passes for it; a vile unmanly fatal fear, which makes and keeps us fools and beggars half our lives. Wine, company, gaming. and a dependence on certain promises, helped for a time, to shut out intruding care, and support a wounded spirit; unhappily, his expectations were disappointed, his creditors were urgent, and he retired with a smile on his countenance, but mortal chagrin at his heart, to one of those nocturnal associations for getting rid of time, money, and reflection, which have been called little earthly Pandemoniums, where, how deep soever our distress, hopeless our prospects, or miserable our fate, we may be certain of meeting companions equally unhappy with ourselves, alike smarting under the ill-treatment and reproaches of mankind or themselves; ready to receive us with open arms of sympathy, and in the distraction of play, the tumult of carousing, or the roar of merriment, setting at defiance God and man; cards and dice here level every distinction, and mix in familiar intimacy the prince and prize-fighter, the peer and horse-jockey, the gambler and the heir.

This unhappy man passed part of the night in one of these splendid receptacles of desperate adventure, which attract by their bulky magnifi

cence the wonder and sigh of the indignant public. With that timid caution which often accompanies bloody intent, he exhibited nothing peculiar in his deportment or appearance, but, at the usual time, and in the usual mode, quitting those he was to see no more, repaired to his own house, and, in the agonies of despair, snatched from God's right hand the instruments of death.

The situation of a wife, at once, and by a shocking catastrophe, deprived of husband, friend, and fortune, may be easily imagined; the struggle, too great for a delicate frame, terminated in temporary distraction. From the house of affliction she was conveyed, by Adair, to his hospitable roof at Chelsea, where she experienced every help, and, as reason gradually returned, every consolation the lenient hand of friendship could bestow; he was indeed the good Samaritan, the father, and the friend.

From the present page, young men who, early in life, have been grossly led astray by impetuous passions, may learn not to give way to supineness and despair, as by subsequent prudence and application, difficulties may be surmounted, character restored, and success ultimately attained. Persons of moderate capacity, without brilliant powers or attainments, may also be taught from the example before us, that pre-eminence and fortune, for which we all are struggling through life, are within the reach of humble diligence, minute attention, gentleness, civility, and dexterity in turning the little accidents of life to good account. From a consideration of Adair's life, an oft-repeated lesson may also be brought home to the bosom of every reader; though few, comparatively speaking, have opportunities of acting conspicuous parts on the great theatre of life, though we cannot all be heroes, statesmen, warriors, philosophers, and poets, yet we all have it in our power to fulfil the duties of private life, to abstain, as far as human infirmity will permit, from violence, folly, and crime, and to diffuse, in some degree, the blessings of ease and comfort to the unhappy, the sick, and the unfortunate.

ADDINGTON, DR., a physician of Reading, in Berkshire, who first signalised himself, by his acuteness in detecting, his zeal in apprehending, and his evidence in condemning a wretched female, the dupe of vanity and illicit intercourse, who suffered an ignominious death more than thirty years ago, for poisoning her father, Mr. Blandy, by the advice and assistance of a military paramour. The murdered man was a reputable attorney of Henley, in Oxfordshire, and, what rendered his death still more shocking, a tender and most affectionate parent to the monster who destroyed him: it is much to be lamented that the efforts of public justice were not sufficiently rapid to overtake and apprehend Cranston, her infamous associate in this horrid business; I would have travelled over African deserts and Scythian snows to have seized and suspended him to the same tree.

Dr. Addington, equally keen and scientific in medicine, and the meum and tuum in money matters, could never submit to the inconvenience of a professional competitor with temper or moderation.

This dis

position involved him in frequent disputes with Dr. Pigot and Dr. Russel, two able physicians who practised in his neighbourhood; but from his superior knowledge of the world, and by the interest he had established with a considerable number of apothecaries, the Reading doctor generally gained the victory. It is true that, in one instance, a challenge was sent to him, which, although his opponent told him he loved a fee better than fighting, he did not accept; and on another occasion, having deviated from propriety and good manners, the only excuse he could make, was, that the gentleman he insulted had not taken a degree at Oxford or Cambridge.

The enthusiastic political attachments of Dr. Addington often excited the smiles of his neighbours; his conduct, in this respect, they compared to certain eccentric characters who appear to be mad only on one subject. His general deportment in private life was consistent and proper, but whenever the name of Pitt or Burton Pynsent was mentioned, the meekness with which he commonly bore his faculties instantly forsook him, and he burst forth in a peculiar strain of highflying rapturous panegyric, which nothing could interrupt, however important the business or solemn the occasion which occupied him. Yet, in this madness there was method, as well as good policy; it acquired for himself, and secured to his family, the friendship and patronage of Mr. Pitt; procured, by collateral connexion, wealthy and respectable husbands for his daughters, and placed his son in that chair where Onslow once presided; Onslow, who might have seen with surprise and satisfaction, a young man presiding over and moderating the counsels of a great assembly with dignity, spirit, and mildness, uniting a large portion of parliamentary information and rigid impartiality with the habits and manners of a gentleman.

It was during the dangerous illness of a friend of the writer of this article, that Dr. Addington was sent for, and while in the sick man's room, the family assembled below in anxious expectation. After a long and painful pause, one of the company hurried out of the room to inquire into the cause of such delay; on the stairs he found the physician arguing with the apothecary, who was a shocking Foxite, on the memorable but obnoxious India bill, carried into parliament by Mr: Fox when in office; and elaborately comparing it with the happier production of Mr. Pitt. "Dear doctor," said the young man, labouring with fraternal affection, angry with the physician, but fearful of offending him; " Dear doctor, no one in this house presumes to deny the transcendent merits of the heroes and demi-gods of the house of Chatham, but I fear my poor brother will expire before you get through the merits of the bill. Feeling he was wrong, the medical man bustled down stairs, wrote his prescription, pocketed his fee, and left the house somewhat ruffled; he could not however resist the impulse he felt to accompany the apothecary, though two miles out of his way, in order to finish his argument; this he did with his usual energy, and returned home with the triumphant idea of having made a political proselyte. In justice to Dr. Addington, I cannot conclude without observing that he clearly conceived the case of his patient, who soon after recovered, and has often joined in a hearty laugh at the little story I relate.

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AGNODICE, an Athenian female, who appears to have been endued with a considerable portion of keen sensibility towards the afflictions and calamities of others: with this amiable disposition she united qualities which persons of that laudable description do not always possess, good sense to direct, and consummate resolution for carrying into execution, the singular efforts she made to alleviate the sufferings of her fellow-creatures: for in the path chosen by her, benevolence could not be exercised without difficulty and danger. This excellent woman saw with concern numbers of her own sex dying or undergoing extreme and frequently unnecessary risk and protracted pain in child-birth, because they dreaded calling in professional assistance, or resorted to it when too late for at the period to which I refer, there was a positive law in Athens, that men only should study and practice this or any other branch of the medical art. Agnodicè could not rest contented till she found a remedy for this evil, which struck at the root of population, laid a cruel tax on the first great law of nature, and overwhelmed with torture, agony, and death, the fairest, the most modest, and often the worthiest of women; whilst certain help was loudly called for and readily administered to vicious audacity and callous unconcern. Inspired by the importance of her object, and animated by the humanity of her purpose, she alleged a call from a sick friend at a considerable distance to account for her absence, and procuring the dress of a man, attended as a pupil at the schools where the knowledge she wished for was dispensed. As improvement is generally rapid when the desire for it is ardent, Agnodicè soon acquired the requisite qualifications, and in the assumed character and dress of a man afforded substantial relief to many women, who had been deterred by modesty, by fear, and other motives, from applying to male professors; the secret of her being a woman having been previously imparted to those whose situation rendered her assistance necessary. But the gratitude of her patients or the selfishness of her opponents, who found they were losing business, led to a discovery of this meritorious imposture. They circulated reports injurious to the character of the young practitioner, and ignorant of the truth, insisted that he was frequently called in when in fact no medical aid was necessary; and that a dangerous and illicit intercourse was carried on under the convenient plea of asking advice. Agnodicè was tried before the Areopagus, a court so called from their assembling on a hill of that name near Athens; and by a party of jealous husbands and envious rivals this excellent and intrepid woman was condemned to die; an unjust and inhuman sentence, which would have been carried into execution, if the prisoner had not convinced her judges that it was impossible she could be guilty of the crime alleged against her. Disappointed in their purpose, her adversaries next endeavoured to destroy her for having violated an express law, mentioned at the beginning of this article, which prohibited her sex from studying any branch of the medical profession. On this charge, the law being positive, her judges paused, when the court was immediately filled with a crowd of women, many of whom had received comfort and many of them life from her well-timed aid. They boldly and loudly appealed