Mayerne, and the favorers thereof, alledging that in this case of
extremity, they must (if they meant to save his life) proceed in the
cure, as though he was some meane person.
“‘This was not agreed to, and next day, the Physicians, Chirurgeons,
and Apothecaryes seemed to be dismayed, as men perplexed, yet the
most part were of opinion, that the crisis was to been seene before
a final dissolution. _This day a cock was cloven by the backe, and
applyed to the soles of his feete_. But in vayne. Shortly after it
was announced that all hope was gone. His Majestie then gave leave
and absolute power to Dr. Mayerne, to do what he woulde of himselfe,
without advise of the rest; but the Doctor did not it seems like
this, “for hee, weighing the greatness [p341] of the cure and
eminencye of the danger, would not, for all that, adventure to doe
any thinge of himself, without the advice of the rest, saying,
that it should never be said in after ages, that he had kylled the
Kynge’s eldest sonne.”
“‘Bleeding was again proposed by Mayerne, but Doctors Hamond,
Butler, and Atkins could not agree about it; instead of which they
doubled and tripled the cordials.
“‘Then came to assist the rest, Dr. Palmer and Dr. Giffard, famous
physicians for their honestie and learninge. The result of this
consultation was _Diascordium_, which was given in the presence of
many honourable gentlemen.
“‘All sorts of cardials were sent. _Sir Walter Rawleigh_ sent one
from the Tower.’”
“MRS. MAPP.
“No part of surgery is supposed to be so easy to understand as
_bone-setting_; it is regarded by a considerable part of the people
as no matter of science, an affair on a level with farriery, as
easily learnt, and like a heritage, to be transmitted from father to
son; in short, the pretensions of these people are very like those
of the man who set up as an oculist, _because_ he had _lost an eye_,
or the rupture doctor, who cured _bursten_ children, _because_ his
grandfather and grandmother were both _bursten_.
“We are not without plenty of ignorant and impudent pretenders at
the present day, but the celebrated Mrs. Mapp, the bone-setter of
Epsom, surpasses them all. She was the daughter of a man named
Wallis, a bone-setter at Hindon, in Wiltshire, and sister to the
celebrated ‘Polly Peachem,’ who married the Duke of Bolton. Upon
some _family quarrel_, Sally Wallis left her professional parent,
and wandered up and down the country in a miserable manner, calling
herself ‘Crazy Sally,’ and pursuing, in her perambulations, a
course that fairly justified the title. Arriving at last at Epsom,
she succeeded in humbugging the worthy bumpkins of that place so
decidedly, that a subscription was set on foot to keep her among
them; but her fame extending to the metropolis, the dupes of London,
a numerous class then as well as now, thought it no trouble to go
ten miles to see the conjuror, till at length, she was pleased
to bless the afflicted of London with her presence, and once a
week drove to the Grecian Coffee-house, in a coach and six, with
out-riders! and all the appearance of nobility. It was in one of
these journeys, passing through Kent-street, in the Borough, that
being taken for a certain woman of quality from the Electorate in
Germany, a great mob followed, and bestowed on her many bitter
reproaches, till Madame, perceiving some mistake, looked out of the
window, and accosted them in this gentle manner: ‘D—— n your bloods,
don’t you know me? I am Mrs. Mapp, the _bone-setter_!’ upon which,
they instantly changed their revilings into loud huzzas.
“That she was likely enough to express herself in these terms,
[p342] seems very natural from her origin and history; but that
she should be on visiting terms with decent people, and keep
quality company, is as unnatural. Mr. Pott, who wrote with the pen
of a master, has noticed this in no very gracious terms:—‘We all
remember,’ says he, ‘that even the absurdities and impracticability
of her own promises and engagements, were by no means equal to the
expectations and credulity of those who ran after her; that is,
of all ranks and degrees of people, from the lowest labourer or
mechanic, up to those of the most exalted rank and station; several
of whom not only did not hesitate to believe implicitly the most
extravagant assertions of an ignorant, illiberal, drunken, female
savage, but even solicited her company; at least, seemed to enjoy
her company.’”
“TAR WATER.
“Bishop Berkeley, who brought this remedy into fashion, was
greatly aided by the faith of the clergy, who preached it up in
all quarters. Among these, none was more strenuous than Dr. Young,
the author of the ‘Night Thoughts.’ ‘They who have experienced the
wonderful effects of tar water,’ says he, ‘reveal its excellencies
to others. I say reveal, because they are beyond what any can
conceive by reason or natural light. But others disbelieve them,
though the revelation is attested past all scruple, because to them
such strange excellencies are incomprehensible. Now give me leave to
say, that this infidelity may possibly be as fatal to morbid bodies,
as other infidelity to morbid souls. I say this in honest zeal for
your welfare. I am confident, if you persist, you’ll be greatly
benefited by it. In old obstinate chronical complaints, it probably
will not show its virtue under three months; tho’ secretly, it is
doing good all the time.’
“Such was the universality of its power, that it was good for man
and beast, _and a sure remedy for the plague_!”
After this miscellaneous and amusing collection, we arrive at the
Memoirs, which is not a dry, biographical record of birth, death,
parentage, and education, but a lively sketch of characteristic
particulars of eminent medical men. We will select a few of them.
“BUTTER.
“Mr. John Whitehurst (author of an ingenious theory of the earth)
was the means of Dr. William Butter’s settling at Derby, where he
(Mr. W.) then resided. Mr. Whitehurst had met at Buxton with Lord
Hopetown, who had asked him what physicians were at Derby, and upon
his telling him, that there could not be a finer opening, as the
two physicians there had both declined practice, his Lordship said
it would be a good place for Butter; and shortly afterwards, the
Doctor made his appearance loaded with recommendations, and among
others, with one from Dr. Hope [p343] to Mr. Whitehurst. Mr. W. was
very civil to him, but before he had been a fortnight in the town,
Butter came and complained, that he had not had a single patient.
Mr. W. told him, that he could hardly expect any so soon, that he
must be known a little, and so on, which so offended Butter, that
ever afterwards he considered Mr. W. as his enemy. He was very rude
and coarse in his manner, always averse to consultations, and used
to say, that nobody but himself and Sir John Pringle knew any thing
of physic. Among his patients at Derby were two brothers, opulent
men, who lived together; one of them being dangerously ill, and
attended by Butter, the other brother sent a messenger to Birmingham
for two physicians, and then told Butter what he had done, and
that he intended to have a consultation. Butter immediately went
to the apothecary, and got some laudanum, of which he gave large
doses to the patient, so that when the Birmingham physicians came,
the patient was in a state of lethargy. They asked if he had been
taking opium, but Butter denied that any had been given; it was
accidentally discovered, however, by means of the apothecary, and
from that time Butter, who was before in excellent practice, lost
considerably in public estimation.
“A tailor at Derby, whom Butter had offended, once played him
a trick. A curer of smoky chimnies came to Derby, and one day,
when the tailor knew the Doctor was out of town, he called on the
chimney-man, and told him that Butter had desired to have a smoky
chimney cured, belonging to his best parlour; and had left positive
orders that he should go to his house and set about it immediately.
The operator accordingly went, delivered his message to Butter’s
servant, pulled out his utensils, and fell to work; and in a short
time the marble slab, and other ornaments of the chimney, were down.
Butter came in while he was engaged in this business; finding his
parlour full of bricks and dirt and mortar, his fury was excessive,
and his hatred to the tailor was ever after implacable. The story
got wind in the town, and the boys in the street would sometimes
talk about _chimney-doctors_ as he passed.
“Butter lived close to a churchyard, and one day, seeing a
grave-digger at work, he asked him for whom he was digging the
grave—‘For so and so,’ said the grave-digger, naming the tailor who
had so highly offended him, which so pleased the Doctor, that he
gave the fellow a shilling. This occasioned a fresh laugh at his
expense, as the tailor was in good health, and it was merely a piece
of pleasantry of the grave-digger’s. Butter and his wife lived in
the most frugal manner, and never visited anybody. After he came to
London, a lady of fortune, who had been his patient in Derbyshire,
and wished to countenance him, invited him often to her table, till
at length Butter brought in an account of fees for each visit.”
[p344]
“CADOGAN.
“Universal temperance in eating and drinking has been considered
as particularly incumbent on a physician, in every period of his
practice. It is a virtue he is frequently obliged to inculcate on
his patients; and his doctrines will have little effect if they be
not regularly exemplified in his own conduct.
“Dr. Cadogan, however, thought it right to _try all things_, and
considered it his duty to speak _experimentally_ on both sides of
the question, to qualify himself to say, in the language of Dido,—
‘Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco.’
“Thus, dining one day at a College dinner, after discoursing most
elegantly and forcibly on abstinence, temperance, and particularly
against pie-crust and pastry, he is reported to have addressed a
brother M.D. in the following terms: ‘Pray, doctor, is that a pigeon
pie near you?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Then I will thank you to send me the
hind-quarters of two pigeons, some fat of the beef-steak, a good
portion of the pudding-crust, and as much gravy as you can spare!’”
“BLAIR.
“‘We physicians were always politicians,’ was a favourite expression
of Warren’s, but nevertheless, there are very few instances of
medical men embroiling themselves in political troubles.
“Dr. Patrick Blair, however, who was in the rebellion of 1745, got
himself into Newgate, and was condemned to be hanged. In the British
Museum are several of his letters to Sir Hans Sloane, written in
prison, soliciting his intercession, and in one of them he writes,
‘If you come towards Newgate, I hope you will favour me with a
call.’ Dr. Martyn, the professor of Botany at Cambridge, supped with
him in Newgate the night previous to his expected execution. Blair
had been all along confident that he should be reprieved: Dr. Martyn
said, he sat pretty quietly till the clock struck nine, and then he
got up and walked about the room; at ten he quickened his pace; and
at twelve, no reprieve coming, he cried out—‘By my troth! this is
carrying the jest too far!’ The reprieve, however, came soon after,
and in due time a pardon. Blair went afterwards, and settled at
Boston in Lincolnshire, where he practised till his death.”
“SIR WILLIAM DUNCAN.
“Sir William Duncan once met Dr. Thomas Reeve, when the latter was
President of the College, and insisted that his name should not
follow Reeve’s, because he was physician to the king. Reeve asserted
his dignity as president, and the consequence was, that each wrote
his own prescription (the same they had agreed to) and gave it to
the apothecary.
“There are many instances of medical etiquette being carried to a
great extent, but polite etiquette in a sick room was perhaps [p345]
never exceeded by the following exhibition of it, between the Duke
of Ormond and a German Baron.
“The Duke of Ormond and a certain German Baron were both considered
models of pride and politeness. When the Duke perceived that he
was dying, he desired that he might be seated in his elbow chair,
and then, turning to the Baron, with great _courteousness_, he
requested that he would excuse any unseemly contortions of feature,
as his physicians assured him, that he must soon struggle with the
last pangs. ‘My dear Lord Duke,’ replied the Baron, with equal
_politeness_, ‘I beg you will be on no ceremony on my account!’”
“BAILLIE,
“Not Matthew Baillie, but an Irish gentleman who had been rejected
by the College, called the next day on Dr. Barrowby, who was one of
the censors, and insisted upon his fighting him. Barrowby, who was a
little puny man, declined it. ‘I am only the third censor,’ said he,
‘in point of age—you must first call out your own countryman, Sir
Hans Sloane, our president, and when you have fought him and the two
senior censors, then I shall be ready to meet you.’
“Many medical duels have been prevented by the difficulty of
arranging the ‘methodus pugnandi.’ In the instance of Dr.
Brocklesby, the number of paces could not be agreed upon; and in
the affair between Akenside and Ballow, one had determined never to
fight in the morning, and the other that he would never fight in the
afternoon. John Wilkes, who did not stand upon ceremony in these
little affairs, when asked by Lord Talbot, ‘How many times they were
to fire?’ replied, ‘Just as often as your Lordship pleases; I have
brought _a bag of bullets and a flask of gunpowder_.’”
“WOODVILLE.
“Dr. Joseph Adams, who was much with Woodville just before his
death, used to relate several traits of his firmness and seeming
unconcern with respect to death. Woodville lived in lodgings at a
carpenter’s in Ely-place, and Adams, a few days before his death,
advised the matron of the Small-pox Hospital to invite him to have
a bed made up there, that he might be better attended to: this she
did, and Woodville accepted it. He observed to Adams, the next day,
that he was a poor man come to die at the hospital, and he remarked,
that some of those who called on him flattered him with hopes of
his getting better. ‘But I am not so silly,’ he said, ‘as to mind
what they say; I know my own case too well, and that I am dying. A
younger man with better stamina might think it hard to die; but why
should I regret leaving such a diseased, worn-out carcase as mine?’
“The carpenter with whom he lodged had not been always on the best
terms with him; Woodville said he should wish to [p346] let the
man see that he died in peace with him, and as he never had much
occasion to employ him, desired he might be sent for to come and
measure him for his coffin. This was done; the carpenter came, and
took measure of the Doctor, who begged him not to be more than two
days about it; ‘For,’ said he, ‘I shall not live beyond that time;’
and he did actually die just before the end of the next day. He
got between one and two thousand pounds by his Medical Botany, and
with the money bought a small estate, which he left to his natural
daughter, being all the property he possessed.”
We happen to know this fact, and moreover, that the Doctor was
playing at chess when the carpenter was introduced to measure him
for his wooden surtout. “Mr. ——,” said the Doctor, “you come at the
proper season, for _my game is nearly finished!”_
The work is embellished with three etchings, which remind us that Mr.
Wadd not only uses the pen, but the pencil, with facility and taste.
His published works afford ample proof of his power of _illustrating_
morbid anatomy, but we happen to know of some _unpublished folio
proofs_ of equal merit. To his fair fame as a surgeon, by the works
we have just noticed, he may add the reputation of being one of the
most vivacious literary _illustrators_ of his art.
_On Tic Douloureux_.
SIR,
PRESUMING that popular and domestic medicine may occasionally find a
niche in your Journal, I beg to offer a few remarks upon the above
complaint, which has lately become, as it would appear at least,
singularly prevalent; and as I address myself to general readers,
I shall avoid all learned terms of art, and minute descriptions
requiring them. The genuine tic douloureux is usually considered
as a morbid affection of the nerves of the face, very commonly
attacking the circumference of the orbit, and producing frequent
and violent paroxysms of excruciating pain; the disease, however,
varies considerably in intensity, and sometimes bears the same
name when attacking other parts; it frequently occurs under the
integuments of the head, and may or may not be attended with external
tenderness. Though opiates relieve the pain, they are ineffectual as
to its cure. Peruvian bark, in [p347] various forms, has sometimes
afforded relief, and preparations containing the metallic tonics,
more especially the oxides of iron, have been regarded as giving
more permanent and beneficial assistance. Local remedies are of very
uncertain utility, and electricity and galvanism have generally done
more harm than good. The division of the nerves has been resorted
to, but never with permanent, and often not even with temporary
benefit. The cause of the disease is unknown, and though sometimes
organic derangement would appear to excite it, no plausible source
of the mischief can usually be discovered. The patient’s principal
solace is that the disorder frequently wears itself out, and as far
as my experience goes, the less we rely upon individual remedies, the
better—the main thing being strict attention to the general health,
and especially to the state of the stomach and bowels. These remarks
apply to the genuine Tic Douloureux; but it has of late years been
the fashion in physic to give that alarming name to a variety of
painful affections, resulting from very various causes, by which
much needless uneasiness has been given to the patient, and which
has often led to erroneous and even mischievous systems of practical
treatment. As cases of this kind are of every day occurrence, a short
notice of them can scarcely be inappropriate to a Journal, the chief
object of which is to familiarize every branch of science.
Rheumatic affections of the head and face often put on the appearance
of Tic; like it, they come on at short intervals, and are limited
to a small space; there is, generally, more or less of external
tenderness, sometimes confined to spots upon the face and scalp, not
larger than a shilling; at others, more diffused. More or less of
this is usually attendant upon habits subject to chronic rheumatism,
and it not uncommonly is the leading feature of the complaint. The
internal use of opiates and sudorifics, especially small doses of
Dover’s powder, warm fomentations, and keeping the head, especially
at night, wrapped up in flannel, are sovereign remedies.
But the most common cases of painful affections, mistaken for
Tic, are those which occur in nervous and irritable persons, and
especially amongst men of business, statesmen, lawyers, merchants,
over-studious persons, and all whose minds are [p348] occasionally
exercised beyond their powers, who are subject to reverses of
fortune, or sudden changes in the posture of their affairs, and who
are constant objects of public attention, praise, or censure. For a
time, the constitution, if a good one, bears up against such wear
and tear, but as you advance, one or other symptom of a shattered
nervous system appears, and this, more quickly and certainly, where
the body has been pampered by too good living, false spirits excited
by indulgence in wine, and fatigue relieved by narcotics, instead of
sleep. Among the host of disordered affections to which such persons
are liable, violent local nervous pains are most common, but they are
invariably relieved by such means as contribute to quiet the mind and
invigorate the body. Abstinence from business, retirement into the
country, regular hours, plain food, moderate exercise, and avoiding
excitement, are here certain remedies, and indeed the only ones, but
they are unfortunately not always easy of attainment, and sometimes
altogether unattainable. I have, however, mentioned these cases, to
enjoin an early attention to the overhanging evil, and to criticise
its improper treatment. I would, upon the first point, enjoin early
attention to the first symptoms, and when they appear let the
individual seriously ask himself whether it be worth while to gain
a little more money, glory, or honour, or renown, at the expense of
all future comfort, and a painful, wearisome, and probably shortened
existence; or whether such apparent advantages had not better be at
once conceded, and the host of evils, which will almost certainly
ensue, warded off by a timely retirement? I could illustrate this
subject by reference to many individuals, especially in the legal
and medical professions, some of whom are harassing themselves to
death by over-exertion, whilst others (I regret to say but few) are
preserving a healthy constitution, by sacrificing a certain share
of fame and emolument: the exceeding folly, too, of persevering in
business, when neither mental nor bodily powers are adequate to the
exertion, might here be animadverted on, but I must, for the present,
waive such topics, and return to the treatment of those nervous
pains called Tic Douloureux, which are of such common occurrence in
the cases alluded to. These will certainly give way under [p349]
that quiet and retirement which has been above recommended; but it
is really provoking to see such means so commonly neglected, and
the unfortunate patients tormented by blisters, fomentations, and
galvanism, and their already debilitated stomachs further overpowered
by gigantic doses of powdered bark, rust of iron, and other (in such
cases) equally ineffective and hurtful medicines. I write to warn
against them.
I have spoken of Peruvian bark as a remedy in tic douloureux. Where
the painful affection so called, let it arise from what cause it
may, assumes an intermitting form,—and nothing is more common than
to have it coming on at stated periods, generally one violent attack
in the twenty-four hours,—in such, as in other similar cases, bark
has often been effective; but of late, sulphate of quinine has very
properly been substituted for it; and as this extremely curious and
valuable medicine is now in every one’s hands, and even finding its
way into family medicine chests, a few words respecting its use, or
rather abuse, may not be here misplaced. I would first remark, that
it is too commonly given in over-doses: it then produces thirst,
and a white tongue, and, what is remarkable, it excites in most
people that uneasy sensation of fulness about the stomach, which is
generally complained of after a large dose of powdered bark, and
ascribed to the indigestible nature of the large quantity of inert
and insoluble woody fibre in which that substance abounds. For these
reasons sulphate of quinine is too often laid aside in cases where,
if properly and judiciously administered, it might prove of important
service; instead of three or four grains, or even more, repeated
every four or six hours, let a grain be given once a day; and if
it agree, and occasion require, let this dose be repeated twice or
thrice daily, either in the form of pill or solution. I prefer the
latter; two drachms of tincture of orange-peel being used as the
solvent, and diluted afterwards with half a wine-glass of water. It
is not meant here to insinuate, that in obstinate agues, and other
disorders, large doses of quinine are always improper, but to enforce
the occasional mischief which they produce, and by which the medicine
is unjustly brought into distrust and disrepute.