POISONS TRIED ON HUMAN BEINGS
From an early period science has been gradually built up by experimental
methods and even the ancients were cognizant of the fact that the
remedial properties of a substance could only be proved by actual
experiment. Not only animals but human beings were utilized for this
purpose by many famous physicians in the Middle Ages. Criminals who had
been condemned to death were generally selected when available.
It is stated by Pierre Fabre, in the _History of the Apostles_, that the
Apostle John was present at the execution of two criminals by poison in
the public forum at Ephesus.
Vivisection of the live human subject was practised by the Alexandrian
school in the time of the Ptolemies. Erasistratos and Herophilos, pupils
of Chrysippos of Cnidos, are said to have experimented upon 600
condemned criminals handed over to them by Ptolemy Soter. They opened
the abdomens of some of these men to study the movements of the colon
and those of the muscle of the diaphragm on the inspiration of air; they
also opened the chests of the others to study the cardiac movements.
Their conduct, however, met with the reprobation of their
contemporaries. Celsus and Galen reproached Herophilos with “cruel and
useless sacrifices” and of “inhuman feeling,” while Tertullian called
him roundly “an executioner who gave lingering death with refined
cruelty.” The Court physicians of Attalus, King of Pergamus, and
Mithridates, King of Pontus, were authorized in virtue of their office
to try poisons upon criminals, and were accused by their jealous
colleagues of pluming themselves upon their privileges, while less
favoured practitioners were compelled to be content to experiment upon
cocks and dogs.
An allusion to the use of animals for the purpose of physiological
experiment is to be found in a document still preserved in the Venetian
secret archives, which bears the date 1432. It states: “Trial has been
made on three porcine animals of certain venoms found in the chancery
sent very long ago from Vicenza which have been proved not to be good.”
This document affords interesting proof that the Italians at that early
period were much in advance of other European nations in their knowledge
of poisonous substances.
Brassavola of Ferrara studied little known and doubtful remedies by
testing their effects on criminals, and Fallopius, his pupil, who
eventually made such important physiological discoveries, followed his
master’s example. It is recorded that Cosimo de Medici, Grand Duke of
Tuscany, on one occasion ordered the magistrates of Pisa to hand over
two men to Fallopius, “in order that he may put them to death in
whatever way he pleases, and then anatomize them.” Fallopius, however,
seeing the men were condemned to death, seems to have acted with both
dignity and humanity. He gave them each eight grains of opium; one died
and the other recovered. Cosimo pardoned him, but, if we may believe
contemporary records, Fallopius did not: he gave the man eight grains
more, and this time he died.
At Bologna, poisons were habitually administered to criminals without
their knowledge to obviate the perturbing influence of fear upon natural
toxic effects. Arsenic was employed in the same way at Mantua and
Florence. Even princes of the Church did not show themselves above
taking part in these experiments. The Cardinal-Archbishop of Ravenna,
with the permission of Duke Ercole II, tried the effects of corrosive
sublimate (!) as an antidote, though this seems rather like cutting off
a child’s head to cure it of squinting. Pope Clement VII’s experiment
with a secret oil which was given to certain unfortunate Corsicans as an
antidote to the aconite they administered judicially, may be cited as a
more humane effort in the cause of science, and was, no doubt,
considered to have been partially successful, as one of the victims
survived the aconite and received a free pardon.
Dr. Harris, who was physician-in-ordinary to Charles II, gives an
account of one Pontæus, apparently a contemporary, who is described as
the first mountebank who ever appeared on a stage in England. This
performer issued a challenge to the physicians of Oxford to prepare the
rankest poison they could contrive, and he undertook that one of his
servants should take it and recover. Thus would he demonstrate the
marvellous virtues of the orvietan he had for sale. The medical
practitioners of Oxford accepted the challenge, and decided on aqua
fortis. Pontæus’s man drank off on the stage what they brought him, fell
down as dead, was carried off, and reappeared the next day no worse for
his experience. Dr. Harris explains that previous to the test he had
well greased his mouth and gullet with 2 or 3 lb. of fresh butter, and
that after getting him behind the scenes a lot more butter was
administered, and then warm water, which made him sick. Another member
of the charlatan’s staff next washed his hands in molten lead before the
spectators. His hands were immediately violently inflamed, and his
sufferings were obvious to the crowd, if not appreciated by himself.
Some of the professor’s famous green ointment was then applied to the
almost skinless flesh, and the hands were carefully bandaged. Next day
the bandages were removed, and the hands were scarcely even inflamed. It
transpired afterwards that the molten lead was warm quicksilver placed
in a ladle painted red, and when the man dipped his hands in the metal
he was concealing in them some vermilion, which he rubbed over the flesh
under the quicksilver.
François Ranchin, Professor and Chancellor of the Faculty of Montpellier
in the eighteenth century, wrote that experiments upon human beings were
worthy of approval and had been held in high honour by the ancients.
English surgeons in the eighteenth century were also willing to avail
themselves when the opportunity offered to experiment on a condemned
criminal.
In 1731 a man named Charles Ray was reprieved on condition that William
Cheselden, the famous anatomist and surgeon, should perforate the drum
of his ear in order to ascertain if it would cause deafness. The
unfortunate subject, however, was taken ill with fever before the
experiment could be performed, and the operation was abandoned.
Again, in 1763 another condemned man was offered a reprieve on condition
that he consented to have one of his legs amputated to test the power of
a new styptic. Fortunately, perhaps, for him, he died before the
experiment could be performed. Four years later one John Benham is
reported to have been reprieved for a similar purpose, but when Pierce,
the inventor of the styptic, waited upon the Secretary of State to make
arrangements, he was informed that His Majesty the King was of the
opinion that it was quite improper to try such an experiment.
In more recent times seven condemned criminals in France were inoculated
with the plague, but only one contracted the disease, and a certain
German professor inoculated a man with carbuncle, which brought upon him
the denunciations of his professional brethren.
On the ethics of such experiments much diversity of opinion exists, but
only when the subjects voluntarily submit themselves, as was recently
done in connection with the researches on yellow fever, can this course
be in any way justified.