Chapter VII: Part 7

Mrs. Stephens was a widow and professed to have received the recipe from her late husband. A number of persons in the higher classes of society had been cured, or believed they had been, by taking her remedy, and in the year 1738 a movement was started to buy the formula from her for the benefit of the public. This was specially advocated in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, and the lady being approached expressed her willingness to sell the recipe for £5,000. An account was opened at Drummond’s Bank, and £500 was subscribed in the first few days. Dr. David Hartley, of Bath, was the chief organiser of the fund, and the Bishop of Bath and Wells, the Principal of Brasenose College, Oxford, and other responsible persons wrote letters testifying their knowledge of the good effects produced by Mrs. Stephens’s treatment. Hartley published an account of “Ten Cases of Persons who have taken Mrs. Stephens’s Medicines for Stone.” When Hartley died Warburton in his letters referred to him as “a philanthropic visionary, a martyr to Mrs. Stephens’s medicine.” It is said in some accounts that Horace Walpole was one of Mrs. Stephens’s cures.

The subscription list was kept going until the end of the year, and though it included dukes, earls, bishops, and several doctors of medicine, only a total of £1,356 3_s._ was promised. Evidently some strong influence was therefore brought to bear on the Government, for early in the next year the Act referred to was passed and the trustees named in the Act being satisfied that Mrs. Stephens had made the full discovery required, the £5,000 was duly paid to her.

Mrs. Stephens’s “full discovery” was published in the _London Gazette_ of June 19, 1739. It was very full indeed. Omitting superfluous details it ran as follows:--

“My medicines consist of a powder, decoction and pills. The powder is made by first taking hens’ egg-shells, cleaning and drying them, crushing them up in the hands, and putting them into a three-pint crucible, lightly, so that they will fill about three-fourths of its capacity. Cover the crucible with a tile and place it in the midst of a strong, clear fire, above and below. Keep the crucible in the fire until the egg-shells are calcined to a greyish-white, and have acquired an acrid, salt taste. This will need eight hours at least. The calcined shells are to be kept in a dry, clean, open earthenware pan, about three parts filled, in a dry room for two months exactly. They will then have become of a milder taste and the part which is sufficiently calcined will be in a powder of such fineness that it will pass through a hair sieve, which has to be done.

“In like manner take garden snails with their shells, cleaned from dirt, put them in a crucible whole, put the crucible in the fire as before, and keep it there until the snails have done smoaking, which will be about one hour. They are then to be rubbed to a fine powder in a mortar, the two powders are to be mixed, sifted through a cypress sieve, bottled in close-stopped bottles, and kept in a dry place for use.”

“I have generally added a small quantity of Swines-Cresses, burnt to a blackness and rubbed fine, but this was only with a view to disguise it,” adds the lady, conscientiously.

“The egg-shells may be prepared at any time of the year, but it is best to do them in summer. The snails ought only to be prepared in May, June, July, or August, and I esteem those best which are done in the first of those months.”

The decoction was made by beating 4½ oz. of best alicant soap in a mortar with a large spoonful of Swines-Cresses burnt to blackness, and as much honey as would make the whole of the consistence of a paste. Make this into a ball. This ball was to be sliced and boiled for half an hour in two quarts of soft water, with 1 oz. each of chamomile flowers, sweet fennel, parsley, and burdock leaves. The boiled liquid to be strained and sweetened with honey.

The pills were to be made of equal quantities by measure of snails calcined as before, wild carrot seeds, burdock seeds, ashen-keys, hips and haws, all burnt to blackness, “or which is the same thing, till they have done smoaking.” The mixed powders to be passed through a cypress sieve, and a large spoonful or 4 oz. of best alicant soap, and a sufficiency of honey added to make pills; each ounce of the mass to be divided into sixty pills.

One dram (avoirdupois) of the powder was to be taken three times a day in a large teacupful of white wine, cyder, or small punch, and half a pint of the decoction had to be drunk after each dose. If the medicine caused much pain an opiate was to be given. The bowels were to be kept regular with lenitive electuary or some other laxative. The pills were to be given in fits of gravel or suppression of urine, five every hour; or ten or fifteen might be taken daily to prevent formation of gravel stones in constitutions subject to breed them.

Salt meats, red wine, and milk were to be avoided. The patient was to take as few liquids as possible, and to have but little exercise. The object aimed at was that the urine might be impregnated with the medicine, which would then dissolve the calcareous deposits.

Mrs. Stephens died in 1774. The publication of her formula undoubtedly stimulated investigation into the employment of alkaline medicines in the treatment of stone, but her “cases” were not substantiated by later evidence. One in particular was that of a man who was experimented on while the proposal to buy the recipe was under consideration. He was unquestionably suffering from stone, and he soon improved and in time seemed to be quite cured after taking the remedies. After his death examination showed that the stone was still in his bladder; but it had made for itself a little sac in which it was so tightly embedded that it never caused any inconvenience.

Pereira, summing up the evidence in regard to the Stephens’ treatment, says it cannot be doubted that many patients obtained relief from the remedies, “but no cure was effected; that is, no calculus was dissolved. For in the bladder of each of the four persons whose cure was certified by the trustees the stone was found after their death.” I have not traced the report of the four cases; only of the one referred to above.

EARL OF ROCHESTER AS QUACK.

The witty but profligate Earl of Rochester, well known in history as the boon companion of Charles II, especially in his debaucheries, frequently gave offence to that monarch by his impudence or his sarcasms. His best known epigram is that referring to

Our Sovereign Lord the King
Whose word no man relies on
Who never said a foolish thing
And never did a wise one.

On several occasions Rochester was ordered to leave the Court, but Charles always sent for him to come back again. In one of these absences it is recorded that he took lodgings in Tower Street under the name of Alexander Bindo and practised for a time as a quack doctor. It is believed that he had a stall on Tower Hill on which he spread an assortment of remedies and cosmetics, and that he especially cultivated the patronage of women, to whom he gave advice. This must have been about the year 1677. In a book published in 1710, giving the poetical works and speeches of Sir Charles Sedley by Captain Ayloff, is printed a copy of what purports to be one of Rochester’s harangues on Tower Hill. No evidence of its authenticity is offered, and as the Earl was undoubtedly gifted with a glib tongue and plenty of talent it would seem unlikely that he would trouble himself to write out, or if he did write it, to preserve such rubbish. The “Dictionary of National Biography,” however, alludes to it without questioning its genuineness, but does not quote any part of it. The following specimens of the Earl’s alleged patter are quoted from an old part of _Notes and Queries_:--

“I am the famed Paracelsus of the age, by name Segnior Doloso Euprontorio, son of that wonder-working Chymist lately deceased in Alsatia and famed through all Europe, Asia, Africa, and America; from the oriental exaltation of Titan to his occidental declination, who in pity to his own dear self and other mortals has by the prayers and solicitations of divers Kings, Emperors, Princes, Lords, Gentlemen, and other Personages been prevailed with to oblige the world with notice to all persons, young and old, lame and blind, that they may know where to repair for their speedy cure in all Cephalgies, Orantalgies, Paralitical Paroxysms, Rheumatisms, Gout, Fevers, Fractures, Dislocations, and all other Distempers incident to the human Body, external or internal, acute or chronic, curable or incurable.

“My medicines are the Quintessence of Pharmaceutical Energy; the Cures I have done are beyond the art of the whole World.

“I have an excellent hypontical, captical, odoriferous, carminative, renovative, stiptical, corroboratory Balsam of Balsams, made of dead men’s fat, rosin, and goose grease. It is the true Pharmacopœia of Hermes Trismegistus, the true Pentemagogon of the triple kingdom, which works seven several ways, and is seven years preparing, which being exactly completed secundem artem by Fermentations, Solutions, Sublimations, Putrefactions, Rectifications, and Quidlibelifications in Balnea Mariæ in the Crucible, becomes Nature’s Palladium, Health’s Magazine. One drachm of which is worth a Bushel of March dust. For if any of you chance to have your heads cut off or your brains beat out, ten drops of this seasonably applied will recall the fleeting spirits reigning through the deposed Archeus, and in six minutes will restore the departed Life to its pristine vigour with all its functions, vital, rational and animal.”

The quack goes on to recount some of his cures. Among them were the god-mother of Prester John of a stupendous Dolor in her Os Sacrum; the Empress of Boolampoo of a Cramp she got in her tongue by eating Pork and buttered parsnips; an Alderman of Grand Cairo of a scarlet burning raging fever of which he died; the Emperor of Morocco, who lay seven years sick of the plague and was cured in 42 minutes so that he danced the Saraband, Flip-flap, and Somerset.

The orator announced that he was to be found at the Golden Ball in Fop Alley whenever he was not on Tower Hill; for he had devoted himself wholly to serve the Public.

WARBURG’S TINCTURE.

Dr. Carl Warburg, an Austrian doctor, compounded a tincture some seventy years ago which soon acquired an extraordinary reputation in the treatment of agues and malarial fevers. Although its formula was not disclosed, the Austrian Ministry of Health about 1848 put it on the list of medicines which had to be stocked by all pharmacists, fixed the maximum price at which it should be sold to the public at 2 fl. 30 kr. (about 5s.), and established a central depot in Vienna for its manufacture, paying Dr. Warburg a salary for overseeing its preparation. A little later a medical commission was appointed to examine the tincture and draw up a formula for it. The commissioners formed themselves into three sections, and each section made an independent analysis. All agreed that the tincture was an alcoholic preparation of quinine, aloes, camphor, and saffron; zedoary root and angelica were guessed at by two of the sections, and rhubarb by one. The formula adopted was Hepatic aloes, and zedoary root, of each 1 drachm; Angelica root, and camphor, of each 2 grains; Saffron, 3 grains, spirit of wine, 3 ounces. Dissolve, filter, and add 30 grains of sulphate of quinine.

The publication of this formula did not apparently interfere with the sale of the proprietary article, which might have continued if the inventor had not been persuaded to surrender his secret.

About the middle of the century Warburg’s Tincture had acquired great reputation in India. Lt.-General Sir Mark Cubbon K.C.B., Commissioner of the Mysore province, seems to have first made it known. At his own expense he supplied 1,500 bottles to the medical officers of his commission. Subsequently remarkable evidence was given before a Royal Commission, appointed to inquire into the health of the Indian Army, by Major-General Cottin R.E., who stated that many great engineering works carried on in “deadly jungles” had been brought to a successful issue mainly through the protection afforded to the workmen by this tincture. In an article published in the _Lancet_, November 15, 1875, Professor W. C. Maclean, Inspector General of the Army, gave still more striking testimony. He said he had treated remittent fevers of every degree of severity contracted in India, China, and the Gold Coast, and had never known quinine when given alone act in the characteristic manner of this tincture. A dose of 9½ grains of quinine in Warburg’s Tincture would often not only arrest the exacerbation of the fever but would frequently prevent its recurrence. He had never known quinine have that effect. In the same article Professor Maclean published the formula for the tincture which Dr. Warburg had confided to him on the advice of his friends. It was as follows:--Socotrine aloes 1 lb.; East India rhubarb, angelica seeds, confectio Damocratis, of each, 4 oz.; elecampane, fennel seed, saffron, prepared chalk, of each 2 oz.; gentian root, zedoary root, cubebs, picked myrrh, camphor, larch agaric, of each 1 oz. Digest these ingredients in 500 ounces of proof spirit in a water bath for 12 hours, express, and add 10 oz. of sulphate of quinine. Replace the mixture in the water bath till the quinine is dissolved, and filter.

The tincture was supplied in 1 oz. bottles, and ½ oz. was given for a dose after the bowels had been evacuated. The other ½ oz. was given 3 hours after.

Three years later Professor Maclean wrote to the _Times_ stating that Dr. Carl Warburg was living in England in poverty. The large fortune he had made from his tincture at one time had disappeared, and the publication of his formula had resulted in the loss of his income. He asked that the Indian Government would make some provision for him in return for the publication of his valuable secret. The India Office made a grant of £200 to Dr. Warburg in 1882, but in June, 1890, the Hon. Sydney Holland wrote to _The Chemist and Druggist_ appealing for further assistance. The old man was then 86 and Mr. Holland and Professor Maclean had collected enough to provide him with 15s. a week for the rest of his life. This was the last heard of the old gentleman, and his case may be remembered as a caution to over-scrupulous inventors of remedies.

WARD’S REMEDIES.

Joshua Ward, who was born in 1685 and died in 1761, was one of the most notorious and successful of English quacks. In Gray’s “Supplement” and in Paris’s “Pharmacologia” he is said to have been a footman and to have obtained his recipes from some monks while travelling on the Continent with his master. This story is not corroborated by contemporary accounts, nor is it adopted by the “Dictionary of National Biography.”[3] From these sources it appears that Ward came of a good family, and in early life was associated with his brother William in the business of a drysalter in Thames Street, London.

In 1717 he was returned to Parliament as member for Marlborough; but there was either fraud or mistake about this return, for a Committee appointed to investigate it reported that not a single vote had been given for Ward. He was consequently unseated and the other candidate for whom a few votes had been cast got the seat.

(From a print in the British Museum.)]

Apparently Ward had got into some political trouble; the “Dictionary of National Biography” suggests that it was in connection with the Jacobite rising in 1715. He had escaped to France before the Parliamentary inquiry, and in Paris he commenced the sale of the pills and drops which he afterwards made so famous in London. Ward had evidently not finished sowing his political wild oats, for he somehow became obnoxious to the French Government, and was only saved from a sojourn in the Bastille through the intervention of his friend, John Page, M.P. In 1733 he obtained a pardon from George II. and returned to England.

Wards pharmacopœia became a rather extensive one. His pills and drops were the principal medicines he concocted; both were strong antimonial preparations. The pills were composed of glass of antimony (an oxysulphide of the metal), 4 parts, mixed with 1 part of dragon’s blood. This combination was made into 1½ grain pills. The combination of antimony with a resinous substance had been adopted in several earlier preparations, mastic being generally preferred. The resin was supposed to “blunt” the action of the antimony. The drops were made by dissolving ½ oz. of glass of antimony in 1 quart of Malaga wine. These powerful medicines were no doubt effective in many cases. Both cures and casualties were likely enough to result from them. These were the medicines which Ward first made famous in Paris, and with which he started his career in London.

Ward made besides a “white drop” which was an ammoniated solution of nitrate of mercury; two sweating powders, one of which was simply “Dover’s,” but with some liquorice powder added; the other was the same with the addition of white hellebore. His paste for fistula and piles was the original of our Conf. Piper. Nig. His “liquid sweat” was a wine of opium with saffron, cinnamon, and salt of tartar; his “dropsy purging powder” was jalap, cream of tartar and orris powder in equal proportions; later the orris was dropped and a small quantity of bole armeniac was substituted, and his essence for the headache appeared later in the Pharmacopœia as compound camphor liniment.

By advertisements of various kinds, and by a number of startling cures, Ward attained astonishing success. George II. had unbounded faith in him. At his first interview with the King the latter had a dislocated thumb. Ward gave it a sharp wrench which incited some strong German from the monarch, but which put the thumb right. Subsequently George provided the quack with a room in his almonry at Whitehall, and paid him to treat poor people there. Ward bought besides three houses at Pimlico and converted them into a hospital where his remedies were administered, highborn ladies assisting in the conduct of this charity. His patients included Lord Chesterfield, Gibbon the historian, and Fielding the novelist, as well as a large number of titled persons of less permanent fame, and when he brought an action for libel against the _Grub Street Journal_ (which, however, he failed in) Reynolds, the Lord Chief Baron, and Horace Walpole were among his witnesses. In 1748 a Bill was introduced into Parliament to restrict the practice of medicine, and it contained a clause specially exempting Ward by name from its penalties.

Naturally the qualified members of the medical profession were irritated at the amazing prosperity of this charlatan. Queen Caroline, it was said, once asked General Churchill if it was true that Ward’s medicines had made a man mad. “Yes, Madam,” Churchill replied, “Mead.” Dr. Richard Mead was the King’s physician.

Ward retained his fame to the end of his life, and the King’s liberality made it possible to publish a collection of his recipes which his old friend John Page compiled after his death. But George’s tenderness to the memory of the great physic-monger did not go to the extent of fulfilling the desire expressed in his will, that he should be buried in Westminster Abbey, in front of the altar, or as near thereto as possible.

The story of Ward’s treatment of George II.’s thumb is thus told by Dr. George Henning in a note to Dr. Martin Listers “Journey to Paris” (this Vol., page 181): “George II being afflicted with a violent pain of the thumb which had baffled the skill of the faculty, sent for the noted Dr. Joshua Ward; who, having ascertained the nature of the complaint before he was admitted, provided himself with a suitable nostrum which he concealed in the hollow of his hand. On being introduced he requested permission to examine the affected part, and gave it so sudden a wrench that the King cursed him and kicked his shins. Ward bore this very patiently and when the King was cool respectfully asked him to move his thumb, which he did easily and found the pain gone.” In reply to the King’s offer to do something for him Ward diplomatically replied that the pleasure of serving his Majesty was quite sufficient reward, but he would be grateful if the King would do something for a nephew. The nephew was made an ensign in the Guards and Ward himself was presented with a carriage and pair of horses.

In the _Daily Advertiser_ of June 10th, 1736, a report is published of an attendance at the court at Kensington by the Queen’s appointment of Joshua Ward, Esq., with eight or ten persons who in extraordinary cases had received great benefit by taking his remedies. Her Majesty was accompanied by three surgeons and several persons of quality, the patients were examined, money was distributed to them, and Mr. Ward was congratulated on his success.

In Lord John Hervey’s “Memoirs of the Reign of George II” that eminent courtier (Pope’s “Lord Fanny”) relates that he gave Ward’s Pills to the Princess Caroline for rheumatic pains, and he remarks of them “an excellent medicine not only in rheumatics, but in several cases, which for being so all the physicians and surgeons endeavoured to decry.”

Ward is referred to in the newspapers of the day as “Spot Ward.” The nickname was acquired in consequence of a claret mark on one side of his face. Pope refers to him in the lines:

Of late, without the least pretence to skill,
Ward’s grown a famed physician by a pill.

Ward bequeathed his book of secret formulas to his faithful friend and helper in his earlier troubles, John Page, M.P. Mr. Page was a wealthy man, and he decided to publish the recipes of those remedies which were most esteemed for “the noblest of all purposes, the common good of mankind.” So he states in introducing the pamphlet. But a difficulty occurred in respect of these formulas. They did not in all cases represent the medicines which the public had become accustomed to. They had been made for Ward by a Mr. John White, a manufacturing chemist of Twickenham, and a Mr. F. J. D’Osterman, who was probably an apothecary, and those two manufacturers alone knew the exact modifications which had been made in the preparations. In these circumstances the King (George II) consented in his “most benevolent disposition and extensive bounty” to make ample provision for these chemists. Whereupon the “Book of Secrets” was published. A depot for selling them was established, and a moderate tariff fixed at which those compounded by the chemists already named could be obtained, though, of course, anybody was at liberty to make similar preparations. Mr. Page provided that profits after paying expenses should be divided between an Orphan Asylum and a Magdalen Institution.

The following are the recipes for the fistula or pile paste and for the headache essence, both of which, being adopted in the Pharmacopœia, have some historic interest:--

Paste for the Fistula: Elecampane root, 1 lb.; fennel seeds, 3 lb.; black pepper, 1 lb. All in fine powder, mixed and sifted. Melt together 2 lb. each of honey and white sugar, and when this mixture is cool knead into it the prescribed powders. The dose was a piece the size of a nutmeg, to be taken morning, noon, and night, followed by a glass of water or white wine.

Essence for the Headache, etc.: French spirit of wine, 2 lb.; Roch alum in fine powder, 2 oz.; camphor, cut small, 4 oz.; essence of lemon, ½ oz.; strongest volatile spirit of sal ammoniac, 4 oz. A little of this essence was to be rubbed on the hand, and the hand was to be held hard to the part affected until it was dry. Ward told Mr. Page that it was this application which had cured George II’s thumb.

In a lecture on Hæmorrhoids delivered by Sir Benjamin Brodie at St. Georges Hospital, and reported in the _London Medical Gazette_, February 3, 1835, that eminent practitioner stated that he had often found the Confectio Piperis Co. (“similar to what was once very celebrated as Ward’s Paste”) successful when other simple expedients failed. He said it was rather disagreeable to take, tasted like a coarse gingerbread, and must be persevered in for a considerable time. He stated that one of the worst cases he ever knew was that of a lady who had consulted him, and he did not think it possible to cure her without an operation. She, however, was obliged to go into the country at the time, and as the operation must be delayed for a month at least, he recommended her to try Ward’s Paste meanwhile. She came back to him six or eight weeks later quite cured. He thought the remedy acted by passing into the colon and, becoming blended with the faeces, served as a local application.

THE WHITWORTH DOCTORS

are almost forgotten now, but a century ago they were famous all over England. The Whitworth red bottle and the Whitworth drops are still more or less popular reminiscences of their pharmacy. The former was an embrocation, and the second an antispasmodic tincture. Both contained oil of thyme. Formulas are given in “Pharmaceutical Formulas,” published at 42, Cannon Street.

The founder of the family of the Whitworth Doctors was John Taylor, originally a farrier, of Whitworth, then a village about three miles from Rochdale. He died in 1802 at the age of sixty-two. John Taylor had a younger brother and two sons, and the younger brother also had sons, all of whom practised surgery. A third and even a fourth generation of surgeons, some of whom were fully qualified, likewise practised at Whitworth, and the last of the race died in 1876.

The original brothers Taylor were both farriers, but they became famous for their treatment of human patients. Their methods were of the most vigorous character. They were in the habit of buying a ton of Glauber’s salts from their wholesale druggists, Ewbank and Wallis, of York, and they dispensed it to those who sought their medical advice with no niggard hands, and without any formality of weighing. The two brothers provided free bleeding for poor patients every Sunday morning, and something like a hundred victims attended for this operation.

John Taylor (the original “Doctor”) never discontinued his treatment of horse complaints, and was believed to have taken more pride and pleasure in his veterinary work than in his dealings with humans. But the latter flocked to him from all parts of the country. Cancers, improperly set fractures, and deformities were his specialities, but his practice gradually extended to all kinds of ills. A crowd of rich and poor patients had to find lodgings somehow in the village, for they sometimes had to stay for weeks there. Fifty at a time could be seated in the long room where John treated them. They came in at one end of the room and went out at the other, and no one, no matter what his rank, was allowed to have the slightest preference. Eighteen-pence a week for medicine and treatment was the charge to all, and those who could not afford that fee were never asked for it. A lord drove up in his carriage one day, and the powdered footman was sent to ask John Taylor to “wait upon his lordship.” “Tell the man he must come in here and take his turn like the rest, if he wants me to wait on him,” said John; and “the man” had to do so. It is recorded that he left Whitworth cured.

The other doctors used to tell of Taylor’s failures; but as his cases were mostly those which they had pronounced incurable, it is not astonishing if he did not always succeed. But he effected many notable cures. A lady with a cancer in the breast who had been given up by her own doctors came from a hundred miles away to Whitworth. John examined the breast, and then said, “What art thou come here for, woman?” “To be cured, of course,” she answered. “Not all the doctors in England can cure thee,” he said sternly; “thou must go home and die.” “I shall not go home,” said the lady, “till you have tried your hand on me. I can bear any pain you inflict, and I can only die at last.” “Thou art a brave lass,” said John; “I will try, and God prosper us.” The lady stayed at Whitworth six months, and went home cured. She lived thirty years longer.

This lady was well known to William Howitt, a Quaker and popular writer in the first half of the nineteenth century. In an article he wrote in Tait’s _Edinburgh Magazine_, 1839, Mr. Howitt relates recollections of a visit he had paid to Whitworth some twenty years previously, and from that visit, and from the conversations he had had with the lady just referred to, he had gathered the particulars which he gave in his article.

While under the care of Doctor John at Whitworth the lady told Mr. Howitt how she occupied herself in assisting “Mrs. George,” old John’s daughter-in-law, to prepare the medicines. Glauber’s salts were principally relied upon for internal administration. A caustic known as “keen” was used for eradicating cancers; a black salve made up into sticks; a snuff made from asarabacca leaves which he grew in his garden; blisters; and the Red Bottle, made up the medicinal armoury. The last is made still in Lancashire, thus: Camphor, 6; oil of origanum, 6; Anchusa root, 1; methylated spirit, 80.

The lady’s account of the preparation of the salve was that they used to boil a kettleful of ingredients, and then they would mop the kitchen floor. While it was wet they would pour the salve on it, and then scraping it up they would roll it into sticks with their fingers, and cut it into little pieces.

Howitt also describes seeing James Taylor, the head of the family, when he visited Whitworth, making his pills. In an old hat slung in front of him by a cord round his neck was his pill mass. Thus armed, he would walk up and down in front of his house nipping off bits of the mass and rolling them into pills with his fingers as he walked.

In his later years John Taylor sometimes visited patients in distant places. Once he went to attend a duchess at Cheltenham. She had an abscess which he opened and so relieved her at once. George III was staying at Cheltenham at the time, and heard of this skilful man. Later he sent for him to come to London to treat the Princess Elizabeth, who had pains in her head with fits of stupor. John is said to have cured her with his snuff. Having prescribed this and provided the patient with some, John Taylor turned to Queen Charlotte, who with her other daughters was in the room, and patting her on the back, said: “Well, thou art a farrantly (good-looking) woman to be the mother of all these straight-backed lasses.” “Ah, Mr. Taylor,” said the Queen, “I was once as straight-backed as any of them.” John’s son James was fond of telling this story.

Thurlow, Bishop of Durham, brother of Lord Chancellor Thurlow, was one of his patients, and John was once sent for to London to attend him. More than one eminent physician was in the room when Taylor arrived. “I won’t say a word till Jack Hunter is here,” said Dr. John; “he is the only man among you who knows anything.” Jack Hunter was the famous anatomist. When he was present, Taylor proceeded to examine the Bishop, and was applying some ointment from a box he had with him. “What’s that made of?” asked Hunter. “No, Jack, that’s not a fair question,” was Taylor’s reply. “I’ll send you as much of it as you like, but I won’t tell you what it’s made of.”

XXII

POISONS IN HISTORY

“To give an exact and particular account of the Nature and
Manner of acting of Poisons is no easy matter; but to Discourse
more intelligibly of them than authors have hitherto done, not
very difficult.”
(From Dr. Richard Mead’s Preface to his “Essays on Poisons,”
1702.)

It has been shown elsewhere (Vol. I., page 52) how intimate was the connection between ancient pharmacy and poisoning. In Greek the terms came to be almost synonymous, and there is an echo of the same association of ideas in the words Poison and Potion, which a few centuries ago were used in English without much distinction.

The priests of Egypt, the Æsculapians of Greece, and perhaps still more the herbalists of that country and of Italy, necessarily learnt many things from their studies of medicinal plants. They found herbs which would cause sleep, furnish dreams, and confuse the brain. They professed and perhaps believed in their ability to accomplish far more with their philtres than the vegetable world was capable of, but the common people had no means of checking their claims, and such science as there was tended to support them. In the palaces of kings, in the tents of generals, and in all the high places where intrigues, jealousies, and enmities found their fullest scope, pharmaceutical skill was much sought after; in some cases to dispose of rivals, but more usually to counteract the murderous schemes which in those times constituted so large a portion of statecraft. There was nothing the brave men of old dreaded so much as secret poisoning. It is impossible to say how far this crime was practised. Suspicion and terror may have exaggerated its records, but on the other hand it is equally possible that thousands of deaths may have occurred from poisons which were not attributed to that cause.

Hecate and her daughters Medea and Circe figured prominently in Greek legends as inventors and discoverers of poisons. The magic arts for which they were all famous were closely associated with deadly drugs. They were supposed to live in the island of Colchis, the name of which still recalls a vegetable which for many centuries retained the reputation of possessing the most venomous properties. Colchicum was discovered by Medea, but to Hecate is attributed the earliest use of aconite.

Kings studied pharmacy and invented antidotes. Orpheus, the physician and poet, who preceded Æsculapius, wrote a poem on precious stones, in which he relates that Theodomas, son of Priam, King of Troy, had learned how to administer these as antidotes to poisons. The marvellous properties of the antidote invented by Mithridates, King of Pontus, is one of the commonplaces of medical history. Down to the seventeenth century theriaca, emeralds, and bezoar stones were the antidotes to all poisons recognised by the faculty.

BIBLICAL POISONS.

No case of poisoning either suicidal, murderous, or accidental, is alluded to in the Bible, unless we regard the story of the wild gourds (2 Kings, ch. iv, v. 39) as coming within the last description. The suicide by poison of Ptolemeus Macron is mentioned in 2 Maccabees, ch. x, v. 13, but though this was a frequent practice among the Greeks and Romans when the New Testament was written, no allusion to it is found in the sacred writings. It may be that the apostles who include “pharmakeia” among the crimes of the heathen had in mind the degradation of the art to homicidal purposes, but it is more likely that they only intended to denounce its application to the service of lust or its consequences.

The word Rosh occurs eleven times in the Old Testament, and is usually rendered gall, often in association with wormwood. In two instances, however (Hosea, ch. x, v. 4, and Amos, ch. vi. v. 12), it is translated hemlock in the authorised version, and this is retained in the revised version for the passage in Hosea. Apparently the word was a generic one for pernicious or nauseous weeds; but as Rosh also means head some commentators have thought that the poppy was intended.

The word translated poison in Deut. ch. xxxii, v. 24, Job, ch. vi, v. 4, Psalms, lviii, v. 4, and cxl, v. 3, is Chemah, and always means something burning. It is often used to indicate fierce anger. The verse mentioned in Job is obviously a reference to the very ancient practice of dipping arrows into some poison, an application of pharmacy from which we derive our term toxicology.

POISONING IN ROME.

Livy tells the story of the earliest of the poison leagues. He is dependent on older historians for his facts, as the alleged events happened some three centuries before he wrote; about the year 330 B.C. in fact. A number of patricians died one after the other, their illnesses presenting similar symptoms, but the causes of these could not be traced. At last, however, a female slave gave information to the Ediles of a group of twenty Roman ladies of the highest position who, she said, occupied themselves in concocting poisons, and administering them to their husbands or others who had become inconvenient to them. The confederacy was directed by two women named Cornelia and Sergia, and although Livy says 20, some accounts give the number of the conspiratresses as 170, while others total it at 366. Cornelia and Sergia were brought before the magistrates, and indignantly denied that they had done more than prepare wholesome beverages and medicines. On this the slave, whose own life was in jeopardy, demanded that they should themselves be required to take some of these compounds. They were granted permission to consult with their associates before doing this, and in the interval they all poisoned themselves. Livy states that this story is not told by all the contemporary narrators.

Later Roman history leaves little doubt that poisoning became a profession, or rather was frequently associated with the pharmacy of the period, as it had been in Greece. Theophrastus, who wrote about 300 B.C., alludes to a poison prepared from aconite which could be so administered as to take effect at a defined future time, three months, six months, a year, or longer after it was taken, the victim gradually growing weaker. It was perhaps in consequence of this belief that the possession or cultivation of aconite was made a capital offence. Pliny states that Calpurnia Bastia, one of the Catiline conspirators, was poisoned by aconite.

Locusta was one of the noted poison compounders of the Roman empire. She had been condemned to death in the reign of Claudius, but probably by the influence of the Empress Agrippina, she was pardoned and was employed by that infamous woman. Claudius was getting on in years, and was showing more affection for his own son Britannicus than for his stepson Nero, whom at the solicitation of Agrippina he had adopted and made his heir. The empress therefore resolved to get rid of Claudius, but she was afraid to use a suddenly acting agent, and Locusta was ordered to compound something which should produce a fatal effect, but not immediately. It was to be so compounded that it would destroy the emperor’s reason lest in the course of his proposed illness he should take measures to supplant Nero by Britannicus. Locusta had to pretend to be able to fulfil this commission, and the poison she prepared was mixed in a dish of mushrooms. Claudius having eaten some of these was soon taken ill and had to be carried from the table, but as this was what usually occurred at his dinner not much notice was taken of the event. His physician gave him an emetic, and he was in a fair way to recover, but Agrippina, frightened at the possible exposure, employed another minion to apply more of Locusta’s poison on a feather to his throat, under the pretence of making him vomit more. He soon died. Tacitus and Suetonius relate how Nero used Locusta later to help him rid himself of Britannicus, and also of his old tutor Burrhus, who had wearied him with his remonstrances. Locusta was executed in the reign of Galba A.D. 68.

Among other famous Romans believed to have perished by poison were Germanicus and Drusus. Caligula ordered a deadly ointment to be given to an impolitic gladiator named Columbus, who had unwisely worsted the emperor with the fencing foils, to be applied to his wounds. The poor wretch died in consequence. These are only samples of Roman poisonings.

POISONS IN ANCIENT TIMES.

The poisons known to the ancients cannot be with certainty identified. The one to which the power of philtres was principally attributed was mandragora, which was said to produce various hallucinations and temporary madness. It is most likely, however, that in many of the cases where this drug is named the poison actually used was belladonna root. Hannibal, fighting against a large army of African rebels, simulated retreat, but left on the field of battle a quantity of vases of wine in which “mandragora” had been infused. The savages drank the wine, which reduced them to a condition of stupor. Then the Carthaginian hero returned and gained an easy victory over his helpless foes. Henbane seeds infused in wine made the head light, and gave the impression of having travelled through the air. Stramonium, dulcamara, hellebore, opium, Indian hemp, vervain, mezereon, and many other drugs, were in the stock-in-trade of the philtre mongers and conjurers, and the legends related by Pliny and others about the properties possessed by these herbs are sometimes nonsense, but are too often based on their real powers.

There was a ranunculus which grew in Sardinia, which was credited with the power of promoting gaiety. It was called the _Herba Sardonica_. It occasioned spasmodic contraction of the muscles of the face and so simulated a laugh. Hence our expression “sardonic grin.” The employment of haschish by the Saracen warriors to make themselves fierce and reckless in battle is not a mere legend. The sect who introduced it in the armies of Islam were called hashashin, the origin of our word “assassins.” The reputation of the myrtle as an invigorator of the brain, and its consequent adoption by poets as a garland round their brows, is a sample of a more innocent tradition.

Several of the Greek and Roman medical authors, Galen among others, profess a cautious reticence in regard to poisons. But there is a treatise in existence in verse, by Nicandor, which gives such toxological knowledge as was familiar to the men of science of the second century before the Christian era. Among venomous animals were included salamanders, leeches, toads, cantharides, and the sea-hare (_Lepus marinus_). The blood of bulls (probably putrefied) was a poison in use by the Athenians. The honey of Heracleus had a certain fame, for it was alleged that the soldiers of Xenophon having regaled themselves with this luxury were all so intoxicated with it that the whole army lay on the field as if they were dead. Next day all recovered. It is supposed to have been a honey extracted from narcotic flowers.

The vegetable poisons known to the ancients have mostly been named. But cherry laurel, elaterium, certain fungi, and smilax, probably our mezereon, should be added. The mineral poisons in more or less use were arsenic, in the form of orpiment and realgar, cinnabar, and metallic mercury, which was reputed to be poisonous. Nicandor alludes to litharge, ceruse, and gypsum. By the last he may have meant quicklime. Berthelot translated from Olympiodorus (sixth century) the description of a process for making white arsenic from the sulphide. The product was called “alum, white and compact.” The animal kingdom furnished the Romans with at least one famous poison which they extracted from the _Lepidus marinus_ (in the Linnean system, _Aplysia depilans_) which they knew as the sea-horse. According to Philostratus it was by this poison that Domitian removed Titus.

POISONINGS IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

The belief in the skill of the compounders of philtres and mysterious charms grew rather than diminished in the Middle Ages and as alchemy developed. In Sir Walter Scott’s “Talisman,” the tale of the Crusades, the western physician says, “The oily Saracens are curious in the art of poisons, and can so temper them that they shall be weeks in acting upon the party, during which time the perpetrator has leisure to escape. They can impregnate cloth and leather, nay, even paper and parchment, with the most vile and subtle venoms.”

Official records of the trial of a minstrel named Wondreton in Paris, in 1384, give a copy of instructions alleged to have been given to the accused by Charles the Bad, King of Navarre, who had employed this Wondreton to poison the then King of France, Charles VI, his brother, two uncles, and several dukes. The scheme was extraordinarily crude, although Charles the Bad was reputed to be an adept in alchemy. The minstrel was to buy “arsenic sublimat” from the hotels of the apothecaries in Pampeluna, Bordeaux, Bayonne, and other towns through which he would pass. He was to powder this, and get into the kitchens of the eminent persons who were to be his victims, and then, when he could do it with safety, he was to sprinkle some of the powder in the soups and meats served to the masters. Wondreton was arrested before he had done any mischief, and was executed.

King John of England is alleged to have caused Maud Fitzwalter to be killed in the Tower by a poisoned egg because she would not yield to his illicit passion.

The sorcery practised so largely in the Middle Ages must have frequently developed into poisoning. The philtres were to a large extent the same as those which the Romans had used. Opium, belladonna, datura, _Cannabis Indica_, and arsenic were capable of producing astonishing effects, and there was but little chance of detection except the chance which was just as likely to result in the conviction of an innocent as a guilty person. Poisons, or at least the terror of them, played a considerable part in the history of Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and the country acquired the nickname of Venenosa Italia. Even earlier the famous Venetian “Council of Ten” was believed to have made a systematic business of assassination by poison. It employed experts and had a regular tariff--so much for a king, so much for a duke and downwards, which was allowed, plus expenses. The crime having been accomplished, the books of the Council recorded the fee, and the single word “factum” was added. The Medicis and the Borgias, and other of the great aristocrats of the nation are supposed to have kept skilled poisoners in their pay. Giambaptista Porta, Mercurialis, and other scientific men wrote treatises on toxicology as it was understood at the period, coloured with exaggerated fancies such as would impress the common public, and tempt the criminally inclined. Porta, for example, describes the “magic unction” which witches were believed to employ. It was this which gave them power to fly through the air. He attributes this virtue to belladonna. With dulcamara they made a drugged cheese which they gave to travellers, and which had the effect of inducing the victims to fancy themselves beasts of burden. In this condition the adepts could set them to any work they wanted done, and, this performed, they gave them an antidote which restored them to their proper senses.

CREDULITY IN REGARD TO POISONS.

Terror of poisons became epidemic in many countries, and eager credulity welcomed any alleged antidote. Ambrose Paré relates an incident in which he was an actor. He, a Protestant, was principal physician to Charles IX, the wretched author of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. His story of the experiment which that king had made with a bezoar stone is related on page 18. There was also an Archduke Ferdinand of Austria who in the same century invented an antidote to poisons. It was composed of sapphire, hyacinth, emerald, ruby, and garnet. He also, according to Matthiolus, tried an experiment similar to the one narrated by Paré. A Bohemian, condemned to be hanged, was given 2 grains of arsenic. In four hours he had become livid, prostrate, and apparently dying. He was given a dose of Ferdinand’s powder in a glass of white wine, and recovered. Matthiolus also states that Pope Clement VII made such experiments on condemned criminals.

In the reign of Henry VIII of England in 1530 an Act was passed making the crime of poisoning punishable by boiling alive. This was enacted in consequence of several deaths believed to have been due to poisons which had occurred in the household of the Bishop of Rochester. In 1542 it is recorded in the chronicles of the time that a young woman named Margaret Davie was “boyled alive in Smithfield” for having poisoned persons in three houses in which she had lived. The savage punishment was reduced to hanging in 1547 in the reign of Edward VI. In Queen Elizabeth’s reign in 1598 two men were hanged on a charge of having placed poison in her saddle.

Italian poisoners are alleged to have found abundant employment in France. Catherine de Medici took with her to Paris her astrologer, Cosmo Ruggieri, and the people believed that he was responsible for the death of Charles IX. The ambitious queen has found many defenders, but the fiend capable of planning the massacre of St. Bartholomew may support a few extra crimes. Exili went to Paris in the next century with the reputation of having poisoned 150 persons in Rome. Michelet says this miscreant had been in the employment of Marie Olympia, Queen of Rome under Innocent X, and implies that it was on her account that he exercised his chemical skill. He had also been in the service of Queen Christina of Sweden, but this employment was apparently not a criminal one. The latter queen had only engaged Exili to instruct her in alchemy. It was from this teacher that the famous poisoners of Paris were alleged to have learned their arts. It is not possible, however, to ascertain the limits of exaggeration in the accounts which gossiping chroniclers give of that epoch. Royal edicts were issued forbidding “all sorts of sorcery or magic, divinations, philtres, invocations of demons, drinks to win love, enchantments to trouble the air or excite hail or tempests, to destroy the fruits of the earth or the milk of beasts, mathematics [which meant astrology], auguries, and interpretations of dreams.” But though the practice of the “diabolic arts” was punishable by death, it flourished abundantly, but it is not necessary to accept the estimate of a diarist named L’Estoile, who, describing the execution of a witch named La Miraille in 1587, stated that the number of such persons in Paris at that date exceeded thirty thousand.

Perfumery and the publication of almanacks were businesses which covered many of the malfeasances struck at in the edict just quoted, and no doubt there was a widespread belief in the miraculous toxicological skill of the fortune tellers, who naturally wished their predictions to be verified. “Tasters” were employed in the houses of the wealthy, dishes of “electron” which it was believed would tarnish if poisons were placed on them, and Venetian glass, which was warranted to fly into atoms if the wine poured into it had been contaminated, were in frequent use. As Rogers has written

Brave men trembled if a hand held out
A nosegay or a letter, while the great
Drank only from the Venice glass that broke,
That shivered, scattering round it as in scorn
If aught malignant, aught of thine was there,
Cruel Tophana.

But probably nine-tenths of the crimes suspected were the mere result of the disordered fancies of the age. Knowing as we do on what frivolous evidence women were condemned as witches, it is permissible to be sceptical in regard to the testimony received by the frightened judges when one of these notorious criminals came before them. Nor are the alleged confessions of the women themselves necessarily conclusive. The so-called witches often supplied details of their negotiations with Satan, and of their Sabbatic excursions; and hysterical women in all ages have been addicted to the relation of fictitious narratives circumstantially describing both their vicious and their virtuous exploits. The rapid putrefaction of a corpse was considered to be sufficient evidence that the cause of death had been poison, though it is likely that the poisons then in use would have tended to preserve the body.

THE MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS