Page:Samuel F. Batchelder - Bits of Harvard History (1924).pdf/218

 tinued his undisputed sway as the medical autocrat of the town until his death in 1821. Gamage was a character worthy the pen of Cervantes or Moliére, and left behind him a deeper impression than any other physician of his time. In his last years his personality was indelibly stamped upon the childish memories of both the Holmes brothers. Oliver Wendell Holmes delineates him thus: “Grim, taciturn, rough in aspect, his visits to the household were the nightmare of the nursery. He would look at the tongue, feel of the pulse, and shake from one of his phials a horrible mound of powdered ipecac, or a revolting heap of rhubarb—good stirring remedies that meant business, but left a flavor behind them which embittered the recollections of childhood. This was the kind of practice many patients preferred in those days; they liked to know they had taken something energetic and active,—of which fact they were soon satisfied after one of Dr. Gamage’s prescriptions.” (In Winsor, Memorial History of Boston, iv, 564. Ferocious autograph of Gamage, Ibid., iii, 111.) John Holmes puts his reminiscences into the mouth of his “Cambridge Robinson Crusoe”:—“Oh, Dr. Gamage! He and his old yellow mare’s about as tough as anything in Cambridge. What a pair they be! She is rhubarb color, and his old surtout is just the color of ipecac. Oh, don’t he give a feller the stuff! O Lor! his ipecac! it’s just like letting a cat down into a feller’s stomach and pulling her out by the tail. I do declare, Captain, fur off as I am, it gives me a sort of a twist inside when I think of it” (In H. L. Reed, The City and the Sea, 26.) John Holmes’s imitation of Gamage making a professional call was something never to be forgotten by the few who were privileged to behold it. Dr. H. P. Walcott (H. C. 1858) from his rich traditional lore supplies me with the following example of the doctor’s methods: Miss Eliza Ware, who lived as a child in the old Waterhouse cottage, remembered Gamage well. He used to wear an enormous waistcoat reaching almost to his knees, with some twenty small pockets, each containing a different drug in powdered form. On one occasion she had a fever. Dr. Gamage was summoned, and after a brief examination growled, “Better have a little jalap.” He fumbled in a certain pocket, brought out a pinch of jalap, called for a glass of water, dropped in the nauseous purge, stirred it with an abominably dirty forefinger, and ordered, “Now, little girl, drink this!”

Foster brought with him from Charlestown his apprentice, Josiah Bartlett. His father (like Foster’s) was