Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
THE DOCTOR.
[Illustration: HENRY VIII. RECEIVING THE BARBER-SURGEONS.]
THE DOCTOR IN HISTORY,
LITERATURE, FOLK-LORE, ETC.
EDITED BY
WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.,
AUTHOR OF "BYGONE ENGLAND,"
"OLD CHURCH LORE," ETC.
HULL:
WILLIAM ANDREWS & CO., THE HULL PRESS.
LONDON:
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, & CO., LTD.
1896.
Preface.
In the following pages I have attempted to bring together from the pens of
several authors who have written expressly for this book, the more
interesting phases of the history, literature, folk-lore, etc., of the
medical profession.
If the same welcome be given to this work as was accorded to those I have
previously produced, my labours will not have been in vain.
WILLIAM ANDREWS.
THE HULL PRESS,
HULL, _November 11th, 1895_.
Contents.
BARBER-SURGEONS. By William Andrews, F.R.H.S. 1
TOUCHING FOR THE KING'S EVIL. By William Andrews, F.R.H.S. 8
VISITING PATIENTS 22
ASSAYING MEAT AND DRINK. By William Andrews, F.R.H.S. 24
THE GOLD-HEADED CANE. By Tom Robinson, M.D. 32
MAGIC AND MEDICINE. By Cuming Walters 42
CHAUCER'S DOCTOR OF PHYSIC. By W. H. Thompson 70
THE DOCTORS SHAKESPEARE KNEW. By A. H. Wall 76
DICKENS' DOCTORS. By Thomas Frost 90
FAMOUS LITERARY DOCTORS. By Cuming Walters 102
THE "DOCTOR" IN TIME OF PESTILENCE. By William E. A.
Axon, F.R.S.L. 125
MOUNTEBANKS AND MEDICINE. By Thomas Frost 140
THE STRANGE STORY OF THE FIGHT WITH THE SMALL-POX.
By Thomas Frost 153
BURKERS AND BODY-SNATCHERS. By Thomas Frost 167
REMINISCENCES OF THE CHOLERA. By Thomas Frost 181
SOME OLD DOCTORS. By Mrs. G. Linnaeus Banks 192
THE LEE PENNY 209
HOW OUR FATHERS WERE PHYSICKED. By J. A. Langford, LL.D. 216
MEDICAL FOLK-LORE. By John Nicholson 234
OF PHYSICIANS AND THEIR FEES, with some Personal
Reminiscences. By Andrew James Symington, F.R.S.N.A. 252
INDEX 285
THE DOCTOR IN HISTORY, LITERATURE, AND FOLK-LORE.
Barber-Surgeons.
BY WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.
The calling of the barber is of great antiquity. We find in the Book of
the Prophet Ezekiel (v. 1) allusions to the Jewish custom of the barber
shaving the head as a sign of mourning.
In the remote past the art of surgery and the trade of barber were
combined. It is clear that in all parts of the civilized world, in bygone
times, the barber acted as a kind of surgeon, or to state his position
more precisely, he practised phlebotomy.
Barbers appear to have gained their experience from the monks whom they
assisted in surgical operations. The clergy up to about the twelfth
century had the care of men's bodies as well as of their souls, and
practised surgery and medicine. The operations of surgery involved the
shedding of blood, and it was felt that this was incompatible with the
functions of the clergy. After much consideration and discussion, in 1163
the council of Tours, under Pope Alexander III., forbade the clergy to act
as surgeons, but they were permitted to dispense medicine.
The edict of Tours must have given satisfaction to the barbers, and they
were not slow to avail themselves of the opportunities the change afforded
them. In London, and we presume in other places, the barbers advertised
their blood-letting in a most objectionable manner. It was customary to
put blood in their windows to attract the attention of the public. An
ordinance was passed in 1307, directing the barbers to have the blood
"privily carried into the Thames under pain of paying two shillings to the
use of the Sheriffs."
At an early period in London the barbers were banded together, and a gild
was formed. In the first instance it seems that the chief object was the
bringing together of the members at religious observances. They attended
the funerals and obits of deceased members and their wives. Eventually it
was transformed into a semi-social and religious gild, and subsequently
became a trade gild.
In 1308, Richard le Barber, the first master of the Barbers' Company, was
sworn at the Guildhall, London. As time progressed, the London Company of
Barbers increased in importance.
In the first year of the reign of Edward IV. (1462) the barbers were
incorporated by a royal charter, and it was confirmed by succeeding
monarchs.
A change of title occurred in 1540, and it was then named the Company of
Barber-Surgeons. Holbein painted a picture of Henry VIII. and the
Barber-Surgeons. The painting is still preserved, and may be seen at the
Barber-Surgeons' Hall, Monkwell Street, London. We give a carefully
executed wood engraving of the celebrated picture. Pepys calls this "not a
pleasant though a good picture." It is the largest and last painting of
Holbein. In the _Leisure Hour_ for September 1895, are some interesting
details respecting it, that are well worth reproducing. "It is painted,"
we are told, "on vertical oak boards, being 5ft. 11in. high by 10ft. 2in.
long. It seems to have been begun about 1541, and finished after
Holbein's death in 1543, and it has evidently been altered since its first
delivery. The tablet, for instance, was not always in the background, for
the old engraving in the College of Surgeons has a window in its place,
showing the old tower of St. Bride's, and thus indicating Bridewell as the
site of the ceremony. The outermost figure to the left, too, is omitted,
and, according to some critics, the back row of heads are all
post-Holbeinic. The names over the heads appear to have been added in
Charles I.'s time, and it is significant that only two portraits in the
back row are so distinguished." The king is represented wearing his robes,
and is seated on a chair of state, holding erect his sword of state, and
about him are the leading members of the fraternity. "The men whose
portraits appear in the picture," says the _Leisure Hour_, "are not
nonentities. The first figure to the king's right, with his hands in his
gown, is Dr. John Chambre, king's physician, Fellow and Warden of Merton,
and happy in his multitudinous appointments, both clerical and lay. Behind
him is the Doctor Butts of Shakespeare's 'Henry VIII.'--the Sir William
Butts who was the king's and Princess Mary's physician, and whose wife is
known by Holbein's splendid portrait of her. Behind Butts is Alsop, the
king's apothecary. To the king's left the first figure is Thomas Vicary,
surgeon to Bartholomew's Hospital, serjeant-surgeon to the king, and
author of 'The Anatomie of the Bodie of Man.' Next to him is Sir John
Ayleff, an exceptionally good portrait. Then come in the undernamed:
Nicholas Simpson, Edmund Harman (one of the witnesses to the king's will),
James Monforde (who gave the company the silver hammer still used by the
Master in presiding at the courts), John Pen (another fine portrait),
Nicholas Alcocke, and Richard Ferris (also serjeant-surgeon to the king).
In the back row the only names given are those of Christopher Salmond and
William Tilley."
In the reign of Henry VIII. an enactment as follows was in force:--"No
person using any shaving or barbery in London shall occupy any surgery,
letting of blood, or other matter, except of drawing teeth." Laws were
made, but they could not be, or at all events were not, enforced. Disputes
were frequent. The barbers acted often as surgeons, and the surgeons
increased their income by the use of the razor and shears. At this period
vigorous attempts were made to confine each to their legitimate work.
The barber's pole, it is said, owes its origin to the barber-surgeons.
Much has been written on this topic, but we believe that the following are
the facts of the matter. We know that in the days of old bleeding was a
frequent occurrence, and during the operation the patient used to grasp a
staff, stick, or pole which the barber-surgeon kept ready for use, and
round it was bound a supply of bandages for tying the arm of the patient.
The pole, when not in use, was hung at the door as a sign. In course of
time a painted pole was displayed instead of that used in the operation.
Lord Thurlow addressing the House of Lords, July 17th, 1797, stated, "by a
statute, still in force, barbers and surgeons were each to use a pole [as
a sign]. The barbers were to have theirs blue and white, striped, with no
other appendage; but the surgeons', which was to be the same in other
respects, was likewise to have a gully-pot and a red rag, to denote the
particular nature of their vocations."
The Rev. J. L. Saywell has a note on bleeding in his "History and Annals
of Northallerton" (1885):--"Towards the early part of this century,"
observes Mr. Saywell, "a singular custom prevailed in the town and
neighbourhood of Northallerton (Yorkshire). In the spring of the year
nearly all the robust male adults, and occasionally females, repaired to a
surgeon to be bled, a process which they considered essentially conduced
to vigorous health." The charge for the operation was one shilling.
Parliament was petitioned, in 1542, praying that surgeons might be exempt
from bearing arms and serving on juries, and thus be enabled without
hindrance to attend to their professional duties. The request was granted,
and to the present time medical men enjoy the privileges granted so long
ago.
In 1745, the surgeons and the barbers separated by Act of Parliament. The
barber-surgeons lingered for a long time, the last in London, named
Middleditch, of Great Suffolk Street, in the Borough, only dying in 1821.
Mr. John Timbs, the popular writer, left on record that he had a vivid
recollection of Middleditch's dentistry.
Touching for the King's Evil.
BY WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.
The practice of touching for the cure of scrofula--a disease more
generally known as king's evil--prevailed for a long period in England.
Edward the Confessor who reigned from 1042 to 1066, appears to be the
first monarch in this country who employed this singular mode of
treatment.
About a century after the death of Edward the Confessor, William of
Malmesbury compiled his "Chronicle of the Kings of England," and in this
work is the earliest allusion to the subject. Holinshed has placed on
record some interesting details respecting Edward the Confessor. "As it
has been thought," says Holinshed, in writing of the king, "he was
inspired with the gift of prophecy, and also to have the gift of healing
infirmities and disease commonly called the king's evil, and left that
virtue, as it were, a portion of inheritance to his successors, the kings
of this realm." The first edition of the "Chronicle" was published in
1577, and from it Shakespeare drew much material for his historical
dramas. There is an allusion to this singular superstition in _Macbeth_,
which it will be interesting to reproduce.
Malcolm and Macduff are in England, "in a room in the King's palace" (the
palace of King Edward the Confessor):--
"_Malcolm._ Comes the King forth I pray you?
_Doctor._ Aye, sir! There are a crew of wretched souls
That stay his cure: their malady convinces
The great assay of art; but at his touch--
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--
They presently amend.
_Malcolm._ I thank you, Doctor.
_Macduff._ What's the disease he means?
_Malcolm._ 'Tis called the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good King;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I've seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely visited people
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
And sundry blessings hang about his throne
That speak him full of grace."
History does not furnish any facts respecting touching by the four kings
of the House of Normandy. It is generally believed that the Norman
monarchs did not practise the rite.
Henry II., the first of the Plantagenet line, emulated the Confessor. We
know this fact from a record made by Peter of Blois, the royal chaplain,
in which it is clearly stated that the king performed certain cures by
touch. John of Gaddesden, in the days of Edward II., wrote a treatise in
which he gave instructions for several modes of treatment for the disease,
and if they failed, recommended the sufferers to seek cure by royal touch.
Bradwardine, Archbishop of Canterbury, lived in the reigns of Edward III.
and Richard II., and from his statements we learn that both kings kept up
the observance.
Henry IV., the first king of the House of Lancaster, touched for the evil.
This we learn from a "Defence to the title of House of Lancaster," written
by Sir John Fortesque, Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench. He
speaks of the practice as "belonging to the kings of England from time
immemorial." This pamphlet is preserved among the Cottonian manuscripts in
the British Museum.
The earliest king of the House of Tudor, Henry VII., was the first to give
a small gold piece, known as a touch-piece, to those undergoing the
ceremony.
During the reign of the next monarch, Henry VIII., little attention
appears to have been given to the subject. It was at this period largely
practised in France. Cardinal Wolsey, when at the Court of Francis I., in
1527, witnessed the king touch two hundred people. On Easter Sunday, 1686,
Louis XIV. is recorded to have touched 1,600. He used these words:--"_Le
Roy te touche, Dieu te gueisse._" ("The King touches thee. May God cure
thee!")
Coming back to the history of our own country, and dealing with the more
interesting passages bearing on this theme, we find that in the reign of
Queen Elizabeth, William Clowes, the Court Surgeon, believed firmly in the
efficacy of the royal touch. "The king's queen's evil," he says, "is a
disease repugnant to nature, which grievous malady is known to be
miraculously cured and healed by the sacred hands of the Queen's most
Royal Majesty, even by Divine inspiration and wonderful work and power of
God, above man's will, act, and expectation." In this reign, under the
title of "_Charisma; sive Donum Sanationis_," a book was published by
William Fookes bearing testimony to the cures effected by royal touch on
all sorts and conditions of people from various parts of the country.
The Stuarts paid particular attention to the practice. No fewer than
eleven proclamations published during the reign of Charles I. are
preserved at the State Paper Office, and chiefly relate to the times the
afflicted might attend the court to receive the royal touch. In course of
time the king's pecuniary means became limited, and he was unable to
present gold touch-pieces, so silver was substituted, and many received
the rite of touch only.
During the Commonwealth we have not any trace of Cromwell touching for the
malady. During the rising in the West of England, the Duke of Monmouth,
who claimed to be the rightful heir to the throne, touched several persons
for the evil, and, said a newspaper of the time, with success. One of the
charges made against him on his trial at Edinburgh for high treason, was,
that he had "touched children of the King's Evil." Two witnesses proved
the charge, having witnessed the ceremony at Taunton.
No sooner had another Stuart obtained the English crown than the ceremony
was again performed. During the first year of the reign of Charles II.,
six thousand seven hundred and twenty-five persons were brought to His
Majesty to be healed. The ceremony was often performed on a Sunday. Evelyn
and Pepys were witnesses of these proceedings, and in their Diaries have
recorded interesting particulars. Under date of 6th July, 1660, "His
Majesty," writes Evelyn, "began first to touch for ye evil, according to
custome thus: Sitting under his state in the Banqueting House, the
chirurgeons cause the sick to be brought or led up to the throne, where,
they kneeling, ye king strokes their faces and cheeks with both his hands
at once, at which instant a chaplaine in his fermalities says:--'He put
his hands upon them and healed them.' This he said to every one in
particular. When they have been all totched, they come up again in the
same order; and the other chaplaine kneeling, and having an angel of gold
strung on white ribbon on his arme, delivers them one by one to His
Majestie, who puts them about the necks of the touched as they passe,
while the first chaplaine repeats 'That is ye true light which came into
ye world.' Then follows an epistle (as at first a gospel) with the
liturgy, prayers for the sick, with some alteration, and then the Lord
Chamberlain and the Comptroller of the Household bring a basin, ewer, and
towel, for his Majesty to wash."
Samuel Pepys witnessed the ceremony on April 13th, 1661, and refers to it
in his Diary. "Went to the Banquet House, and there saw the King heal, the
first time I ever saw him do it, which he did with great gravity, and it
seemed to me to be an ugly office and a simple one."
In Evelyn's Diary on March 28th, 1684, there is a record of a serious
accident, "There was," he writes, "so great a concourse of people with
their children to be touched for the evil, that six or seven were crushed
to death by pressing at the chirurgeon's door for tickets."
According to Macaulay, Charles II. during his reign touched nearly a
hundred thousand persons. In the year 1682 he performed the rite eight
thousand five hundred times.
No person was allowed to enter the King's presence for the purpose of
receiving the rite without first obtaining a certificate from the minister
of his parish from whence he came, nor unless he had not previously been
touched. A proclamation of Charles II., dated January 9th, 1683, ordered a
register of the certificates to be made. Here is a record drawn from the
Old Town's Book of Birmingham:--
"March 14th, 1683, Elizabeth, daughter of John and Anne Dickens, of
Birmingham, in the county of Warwick, was certified for in order to
obtayne his Majesty's touch for her cure.
HENRY GROVE, Minister.
JOHN BIRCH, }
HENRY PATER, } Churchwardens."
We cull from the churchwardens' accounts of Terling, Essex, the following
item:--
"1683 Dec{r}. Pd. for his Majestie's order for touching 00.00.06."
A page in the register book of Bisley, Surrey, is headed thus,
"Certificates for the Evill commonly called the kings Evill." Two entries
occur as follow:--
"Elizabeth Collier and Thomas Collier the children of Thomas Collier,
Senior, had a certificate from the minister and churchwardens of
Bisley, August 7th 1686."
"Sarah Massey, the daughter of Richard Massey, had a certificate from
the minister and churchwardens of Bisley, 1st April 1688."
Old parish accounts often contain entries similar to the following, from
Ecclesfield, Yorkshire:--
"1641. Given to John Parkin wife towards her
trauell to London to get cure of his Matie.
for the disease called Euill which her
soone Thom is visited withall 0. 6. 8."
"The following extracts," says a contributor to _The Reliquary_ of
January, 1894, "from the Minute Books of the Corporation of the city of
York, show that general belief in the virtue of the touching by the King
was unshaken at the end of the seventeenth century. It must be borne in
mind that these Minutes do not record the acts of individuals, but were
those of the Corporation of what was at that time one of the most
important cities in the country, and that it was in administering Poor Law
Relief that the grants were made.
In Vol. 38 of the Corporation Records, fo. 74b, under the date of February
28th, 1671, is the following:--
"Ordered that Elizabeth Trevis haue x{s} given her for charges in
carrying her daughter to London to be touched for the Evill."
A few years later, on March 12th, 1678 (fo. 156b), occurs the
following:--
"Anne Thornton to haue x{s} for goeing to London to be touched for the
euill."
And again on March 3, 1687 (fo. 249b), ten shillings was granted for
"carrying of Judith Gibbons & her Child & one Dorothy Browne to London to
be touched by his Majestie in order to be healed of the Kings Evil."
The Records of the Corporation of Preston, Lancashire, contain at least
two references to this matter. In the year 1682 the bailiffs were
instructed to "pay unto James Harrison, bricklayer, 10s. towards carrying
his son to London, in order to the procuring of His Majesty's touch."
Five years later, when James II. was at Chester, the council passed a vote
that "the Bailiff pay unto the persons undermentioned each of them 5s.
towards their charge in going to Chester to get his Majesty's
touch:--Anne, daughter of Abel Mope; ---- daughter Richard Letmore."
It is recorded that James II. touched eight hundred persons in the choir
of the Cathedral of Chester.
The ceremony cost, we learn from Macaulay, about L10,000 a year, and the
amount would have been much greater but for the vigilance of the royal
surgeons, whose business it was to examine the applicants, and to
distinguish those who came for the cure, and those who came for the gold.
William III. declined to have anything to do with a ceremony he regarded
as an imposture. "It is a silly superstition," he said, when he heard that
at the close of Lent his palace was besieged by a crowd of sick. "Give the
poor creatures some money, and send them away." On one occasion only was
he induced to lay his hand on a sufferer. "God give you better health," he
said, "and more sense."
The next to wear the crown was Queen Anne, and she revived the rite. In
the _London Gazette_ of March 12th, 1712, appeared an official
announcement that the queen intended to touch for the evil. In Lent of
that year, Dr. Johnson, then a child, went up to London with his mother in
the stage coach that he might have the benefit of the royal touch. He was
then between two and three years of age. "His mother," writes Boswell,
"yielding to the superstitious notion which, it is wonderful to think,
prevailed so long in this country as to the virtue of regal touch (a
notion to which a man of such inquiry and such judgment as Carte, the
historian, could give credit), carried him to London, where he was
actually touched by Queen Anne. Mrs. Johnson, indeed, as Mr. Hector
informed me, acted by the advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyer, then a
physician in Lichfield. Johnson used to talk of this very frankly, and
Mrs. Piozzi has preserved his very picturesque description of the scene as
it remained upon his fancy. Being asked if he could remember Queen Anne,
'He had,' he said, 'a confused but somehow a sort of solemn recollection
of a lady in diamonds and a long black hood.' This touch, however, was
without any effect." The malady remained with Dr. Johnson to his death.
[Illustration: TOUCH-PIECE OF CHARLES II. (GOLD).]
After the death of Queen Anne, no other English sovereign kept up the
custom, although the service remained in the "Book of Common Prayer" as
late as 1719.
The latest instance we have found of the ceremony being performed was in
October, 1745, when Charles Edward, at Holyrood House, touched a child.
[Illustration: (GOLD). TOUCH-PIECES OF JAMES II. (SILVER).]
In the preceding pages we have referred to "touch pieces," and it will not
be without interest to direct attention to some of the more notable
examples. A small sum of money was given by Edward I., and it has been
suggested that it was probably presented in the form of alms. Henry VII.
gave a small gold coin known as the angel noble. It was of about six
shillings and eight pence in value, and was a current coin of the period,
and the smallest gold coin issued. On one side of the coin was a figure of
the angel Michael overcoming the dragon, and on the other a ship on the
waves. During the residence of Charles II. on the continent, those who
visited him to receive the royal rite had to give him gold, but after the
Restoration, "touch-pieces" were made expressly for presentation at the
healings. They were small gold medals resembling angels, but they were not
equal in value to the angels previously given. However they met a want
when gold was in great demand. James II. had two kinds of touch pieces,
one of gold and the other of silver, but they were not half the size of
those given by Charles II. Queen Anne gave a touch-piece a little larger
than that of James II. The touch-piece presented by this Queen to Dr.
Johnson may, with other specimens, be seen in the British Museum.
[Illustration: TOUCH-PIECE OF ANNE (GOLD).]
In a carefully-compiled article in the _Archaeological Journal_, vol. x.,
p. 187-211, will be found some interesting particulars of touch-pieces,
and to it we are indebted for the few details we have given bearing on
this part of our subject.
Visiting Patients.
The doctor made his daily rounds, before the reign of Charles II., on
horseback, sitting sideways on foot-clothes. He must have cut an
undignified figure as he rode through the streets of London and our chief
towns.
A change came after the Restoration, and we meet with the physicians
making their visits in a carriage and pair. It seems that increased fees
were expected with the introduction of the carriage. A curious note
appears on this subject in _Lex Talionis_. "For there must now be a little
coach and two horses," says the author, "and, being thus attended,
half-a-piece their usual fee is but ill taken, and popped into their left
pocket, and possibly may cause the patient to send for his worship twice
before he will come again in the hazard of another angel." The carriage
was popular, and physicians vied with each other in making the greatest
display.
In the days of Queen Anne, a doctor would even drive half-a-dozen horses
attached to his chariot, and not fewer than four was the general rule.
In our own time the doctor's carriage and pair is to be seen in all
directions. It is now driven for use and not for display as in the days of
Queen Anne.
We have seen the bicycle used by doctors of good standing, and we predict
the time is not far distant when it will be more generally ridden by
members of the medical profession.
Assaying Meat and Drink.
BY WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.
From the time of our earliest Norman king down to the days of James I.,
the chief people of the land partook of their food in fear. Treachery was
a not infrequent occurrence, and poison was much used as a means of taking
life. As a precaution against murder, assayers of food, drink, etc., were
appointed. Doctors usually filled the office, and by their unremitting
attention to their duties crime was to a great extent prevented. In a
royal household the physician acted as assayer.
Let us imagine ourselves in an old English home, the palace of a king, or
the stronghold of a leading nobleman. The cloth is laid by subordinate
servants, but not without considerable ceremony. Next a chief officer of
the household sees that every article on the table is free from poison.
The bread about to be consumed is cut, and, in the presence of the "taker
of assay," is tasted, and the salt is also tested. The knives, spoons,
and table linen are kissed by a responsible person, so that assurance
might be given that they were free from poison. Then the salt dish is
covered with a lid, and the bread is wrapped in a napkin, and afterwards
the whole table is covered with a fair white cloth. The coverlet remains
until the head of the household comes to take his repast, and then his
chief servant removes the covering of the table. If any person attempted
to touch the covered bread or the covered salt after the spreading of the
coverlet, they ran the risk of a severe flogging, and sometimes even death
at the hands of a hangman.
The time of bringing up the meats having arrived, the assayer proceeds to
the kitchen, and tests the loyalty of the steward and cook by compelling
them to partake of small quantities of the food prepared before it is
taken to the table. Pieces of bread were cut and dipped into every mess,
and were afterwards eaten by cook and steward. The crusts of closed pies
were raised, and the contents tasted; small pieces of the more substantial
viands were tasted, and not a single article of food was suffered to leave
the kitchen without being assayed. After the ceremony had been completed,
each dish was covered, no matter if hot or cold, and these were taken by
servitors to the banqueting hall, a marshal with wand of office preceding
the procession. The bearers on no account were permitted to linger on the
way, no matter if their hands were burnt they must bear the pain, far
better to suffer that than be suspected of tampering with the food. On no
pretext were the covers to be removed until the proper time, and by the
servants appointed for that purpose. If very hot, the bearers might
perhaps protect their hands with bread, which was to be kept out of sight.
We produce from the Rev. Charles Bullock's interesting volume entitled
"How they Lived in the Olden Time," a picture of bringing in the dinner.
It will be observed that the steward, bearing his staff of office, heads
the procession.
Each dish as it was brought to the table was again tasted in the presence
of the personage who purposed partaking of it. This entailed considerable
ceremony, and took up much time. To render the delay as little unpleasant
as possible to the guests, music was usually performed.
[Illustration: BRINGING IN THE DINNER.]
In the stately homes of old England, as a mark of respect to the
distinguished visitor, it was customary to assign to him an assayer.
History furnishes a notable instance of an omission of the official. When
Richard II. was at Pontefract Castle, we gather from _Hall's Chronicle_,
edition 1548, folio 14, that Sir Piers Exton intended poisoning the King,
and, to use the chronicler's words, forbade the "esquire whiche was
accustumed to serve and take the assaye beefore Kyng Richarde, to again
use that manner of service." According to Hall, the King "sat downe to
dyner, and was served withoute curtesie or assaye; he much mervaylyng at
the sodayne mutacion of the thynge, demanded of the esquire why he did not
do his duty." He replied that Sir Piers had forbidden him performing the
duties pertaining to his position. The King immediately picked up a
carving-knife, struck upon the head of the assayer, and exclaimed, "The
devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee together."
Paul Hentzner, a German tutor, visited England in 1598, and wrote a
graphic account of his travels in the country, which were translated into
English by Horace Walpole. The work contains a curious account of the
ceremonies of laying the cloth, etc., for Queen Elizabeth at Greenwich
Palace. The notice is rather long, but is so entertaining and informing
that it well merits reproduction. "A gentleman," it is stated, "entered
the room bearing a rod, and along with him another who had a table-cloth,
which, after they had both kneeled three times, with the utmost
veneration, he spread upon the table, and after kneeling again, they both
retired. Then came two others, one with the rod again, and the other with
a salt-cellar and a plate of bread: when they had kneeled, as the others
had done, and placed what was brought upon the table, they, too, retired
with the same ceremonies performed by the first. At last came an unmarried
lady (we were told she was a Countess), and along with her a married one,
bearing a tasting-knife; the former was dressed in white silk, who when
she prostrated herself three times in the most graceful manner, approached
the table, and rubbed the plates with bread and salt with as much care as
if the Queen had been present; when they had waited there a little time,
the Yeomen of the Guard entered bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, with a
golden rose upon their backs, bringing in at each turn a course of
twenty-four dishes, served in plate, most of it gilt; these dishes were
received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed
upon the table, while the lady-taster gave to each guard a mouthful to
eat, for fear of poison. During the time that this guard, which consists
of the tallest and stoutest men that can be found in all England, being
carefully selected for this service, were bringing dinner, twelve trumpets
and two kettle-drums made the hall ring for half-an-hour together. At the
end of the ceremonial, a number of unmarried ladies appeared, who, with
particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the table and conveyed it into
the Queen's inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen
for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the Court."
[Illustration: ASSAYING WINE.]
Drink as well as food had to be assayed twice, once in the buttery and
again in the hall. The butler drank of the wine in the buttery, and then
handed it to the cup-bearer in a covered vessel. When he arrived at the
hall, he removed the lid of the cup, and poured into the inverted cover a
little of the wine, and drank it under the eye of his master. We give an
illustration, reproduced from an ancient manuscript, of an assayer tasting
wine. The middle of the twelfth century is most probably the period
represented.
In the ancient assay cup, it is related on reliable authority, a charm was
attached to a chain of gold, or embedded in the bottom of the vessel.
This was generally a valuable carbuncle or a piece of tusk of a narwhal,
usually regarded as the horn of the unicorn, and which was believed to
have the power of neutralising or even detecting the presence of poison.
Edward IV. presented to the ambassadors of Charles of Burgundy a costly
assay cup of gold, ornamented with pearls and a great sapphire, and, to
use the words of an old writer, "in the myddes of the cuppe ys a grete
pece of a Vnicornes horne."
The water used for washing the hands of the great had to be tasted by the
yeoman who placed it on the table, to prove that no poison was contained
in the fluid. This ceremony had to be performed in the presence of an
assayer.
The Gold-headed Cane.
BY TOM ROBINSON, M.D.
The stick takes many forms. It is the sceptre of kings, the club of a
police constable, the baton of a field marshal. The mace is but a stick of
office, being ornamental and merely symbolical.
In history we may go back to the pilgrim's staff, which was four feet
long, and hollow at the top to carry away relics from the Holy Land. It
was also used to carry contraband goods, such as seeds, or silk-worms'
eggs, which the Chinese, Turks, or Greeks forbade to be exported. It is
occasionally used for eluding the customs now. Some people smuggle
diamonds into the United States in that way.
Prometheus' reed, or marthex, in which he conveyed fire to "wretched
mortals," as Aeschylus tells us, is a well-known fable.
An enormous amount of interest centres around the walking stick, and there
are few families in which we do not find an old stick handed down
generation after generation. Such an inheritance was at one time a common
possession of those who belonged to the medical profession.
[Illustration: DR. RADCLIFFE'S CANE.]
The College of Physicians possesses at the present time the gold cane
which Radcliffe, Mead, Askew, Pitcairn, and Baillie successively carried
about with them, and which Mrs. Baillie presented to that learned body.
The drawing here given is a representation of this cane, and it will be
seen that it has not a gold knob, but consists of an engraved handle or
crook. It is, I think, quite clear that the custom which the doctors of
the last century always followed in carrying their stick about with them,
even to the bed-side, was due entirely to the fact that the handle of the
cane could be, and was, filled with strong smelling disinfectants, such as
rosemary and camphor. The doctor held this against his nose obviously for
two reasons. One, to destroy any poison which might be floating about in
the air but chiefly to prevent him smelling unpleasant odours. This stick
was as long as a footman's, smooth and varnished.
A belief in the protective power of camphor and other pleasant-smelling
herbs is still in existence, and we know quite a number of individuals who
carry about with them bags of camphor during the prevalence of an
epidemic.
Before Howard exposed the deadly sanitary state of the prisons of this
country, it was the custom to sprinkle aromatic herbs before the
prisoners, so powerful was the noxious effluvium which exhaled from their
filthy bodies. The bouquet which the chaplain always carried when
accompanying a prisoner to Tyburn, was used for the same defensive
purpose.
The stick of the physician's cane was probably a relic of the legerdemain
of the healer, who in superstitious times worked upon the ignorance of the
credulous. The modern conjuror always uses a wand in his entertainment.
These baubles die hard, because there is a strong conservative instinct in
the race which clings with tremendous tenacity to anything which has the
sanction of antiquity.
The barber's pole is still seen even in London, and is striped blue and
white, emblems of the phlebotomist, and symbolical of the blue venous
blood, which was so ungrudgingly given by the sufferers from almost all
maladies. The white stripe represented the bandage used to bind up the
wound on the arm.
The practice of the bleeders continued in fashion in England until the
beginning of this century. John Coutsley Lettsom, who possessed high
literary attainments, and who was President of the Philosophical Society
of London, and who entertained at his house at Grove Hill, Camberwell,
many of the most distinguished men of his time, including Boswell and Dr.
Johnson, and whose writings shew he was an enlightened physician, was bold
in his treatment of disease, and a heroic bleeder. He used to say of
himself:--
"When patients sick to me apply,
I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em
Then if they choose to die,
What's that to me--I lets 'em."
The wig also constituted an essential part of the dress of the older
physicians. It was a three tailed one, and this with silk stockings,
clothes well trimmed, velvet coat with stiff skirts, large cuffs and
buckled shoes, made quite an imposing show, and when they rode in their
gilt carriages with two running footmen, as was the custom, no one would
be better recognised. It is interesting to contrast the dress and mode of
practice of the modern physician with those who built up the honourable
calling of medicine. It is so easy to laugh at those who practised the art
of medicine before modern scientific investigation had laid naked so many
of the secrets of physiology, pathology, and vital chemistry. Slowly but
surely as the true nature and progress of disease has become known, so
have all the adventitious and unnecessary surroundings of dress
disappeared, and now we may meet the most eminent of our doctors, clad in
the same garments as a man on Change. All this was inevitable, but running
through the whole history of medicine is a magnificent desire on the part
of those who have made a mark, and of all its humbler followers to "go
about doing good." The difficulties are enormous, the labour is colossal,
but there could be no convictions were there no perplexities. Credulity is
the disease of a feeble intellect. Accepting all things and understanding
nothing, kills a man's intellect and checks all scientific investigation.
The physician has to knock at the temple of the human frame, and patiently
pick up the knowledge which nature always gives to those who love her
best. But the investigator must approach his subject with humility, and
with the recognition that there is a limit to the human intellect, and
that behind and above this big round world is a supreme being, that around
the intellect is the atmosphere of spiritual convictions from which our
highest and best impulses spring, that the universe not only embraces
material phenomena, but it also includes the sublime and the moral
attributes, which no man has, or ever will, weigh in the physical balance
or distil from a retort.
The union of Intellect and Piety will grow stronger as the world grows
older. When men began to think, they began to doubt, but when men have
thought more deeply they will cease to doubt.
An idea is in the air that the study of science has a tendency to make men
sceptical. This is an error. For surely the study of Nature in any of its
manifold aspects has a direct tendency to lead us into the inscrutable.
Amongst those who demonstrate the ennobling influence of science let us
only name Boyle, Bacon, Kepler, and Newton. If we would select a few names
from the number of medical celebrities of the past who have felt this
elevating influence, the following will readily occur to us, Linacre,
Sydenham, Brodie, Astley Cooper, Graves Watson, and Abernethy. The latter,
who is chiefly remembered as a coiner of quaint sayings and personal
originality, had, notwithstanding his biting wit, a deep sense of the
nobility and the sacredness of his calling, as the following extract from
a lecture which he delivered at the Royal College of Surgeons will prove.
He says:--"When we examine our bodies we see an assemblance of organs
formed of what we call matter, but when we examine our minds, we feel that
there is something sensitive and intelligible which inhabits our bodies.
We naturally believe in the existence of a first cause. We feel our own
free agency. We distinguish right and wrong. We feel as if we were
responsible for our conduct, and the belief in a future state seems
indigenous to the mind of man."
The noiseless tread of time will cause many doctors whose names are now
household words to be forgotten, but we may rest assured that the wreath
of memory will cluster round the brows of these grand, noble workers in
the field of medicine who have shown by their daily life that they never
flinched from the arduous duties, aye and the dangers of their profession,
but steadfastly plodded on. Originality, integrity, and honesty are
attributes which grace the life of any man, and although the history of
medicine claims no monopoly of these virtues, for they serve all men
alike, yet they are the handmaids of greatness; without them no human
being will ever win that true success which enables us to look back upon
such lives and say, "Here are examples which show us the possibilities of
the race." Doctors ought to be great burden lifters. Their mission is to
carry into the chamber of disease--and even of death itself--that calm
courage, that buoyant hope, which has around it a halo of sympathy and of
encouragement.
The public are loyal to the profession of medicine, and seldom do we hear
of any members of that calling who abuse their high privileges. Their work
is an absorbing work; it says to a man:--"You have placed in your hands
the lives of the human race. You are the true soldier whose business it
is to give life and health and happiness to those with whom you come in
contact. You must not lean upon the baubles of your calling, so as to
inspire confidence, but you must night and day let the one abiding thought
be concentrated upon the good of humanity," and there is no field of
professional experience which has given us so many men who have as nobly
done their duty as the doctors of the past and of the present day. We seem
to be on the threshold of a new era in the treatment of disease, and
already do we find an increase in the average lives of the race. No one
need despair of the future in that direction; indiscretion and ignorance
kill more human beings than plague, pestilence, or famine. The public must
help to tear away the veil which hides the _Truth_, by not worshipping at
the foot of Quackery, Chicanery, or Superstition.
The medical profession has so far escaped the pernicious tendency of
modern thought, which tendency is to hamper every institution. This is a
noteworthy fact; our hospitals, medical schools, College of Physicians,
and College of Surgeons are not cramped and hindered by legislative
interference; but unostentatiously, silently, and with a never-failing
sense of their responsibilities, do they educate and pass through their
gates the doctors of the future--and no man dare point his finger at any
one of these, and say he does not do his duty.
Magic and Medicine.
BY CUMING WALTERS.
Coleridge once said that in the treatment of nervous cases "he is the best
physician who is the most ingenious inspirer of hope." The great "faith
cures" are worked by such physicians, and the dealers in magic at all
times and in all parts achieved their successes by inspiring hope in their
patients. The more credulous the invalid the more easy the cure, no matter
what remedy is applied. Is it surprising, then, to find that among the
more childlike races, or that among the infant civilizations, magic often
supersedes medicine, or is combined with it? Ceremonies which impress the
mind and act upon the imagination considerably aid the physician in his
treatment of susceptible persons. Paracelsus himself combined astrology
with alchemy and medicine, and his host of followers often went further
than their master, and relied more upon magic than upon specific remedies.
It was the crowd of charlatans, astrologers, wonder-workers, and their
sort who substituted magic for medicine, and who had so great an influence
in England three centuries ago, that Ben Jonson scourged with the lash of
his satire in "The Alchemist," the impostor described as
"A rare physician,
An excellent Paracelsian, and has done
Strange cures with mineral physic. He deals all
With spirits, he; he will not hear a word
Of Galen, or his tedious recipes."
There has generally been sufficient superstition in all races to make
amulets the popular means of averting calamity and preserving from
sickness. The Greeks, the Romans, the Jews, the Turks, and the Arabs, to
say nothing of less civilized races, have thoroughly believed that disease
can be charmed away by the simple expedient of wearing a token, or
carrying a talisman. The magical formula of Abracadabra, written in the
form of a triangle, sufficed to cure agues and fevers; the Abraxas stones
warded off epidemics; the coins of St. Helena served as talismans, and
cured epilepsy. So strong was the belief in these magical protectors in
the fourth century that the clergy were forbidden, under heavy penalties
to make or to sell the charms, and in the eighth century the Christian
Church forbade amulets to be longer worn. In this connection it may be
mentioned that the custom of placing the wedding-ring upon the fourth
finger of the left hand owes its origin to the ancients who resorted to
magic for the cure of their ailments. The Greeks and the Romans believed
that the finger in question contained a vein communicating directly with
the heart, and that nothing could come in contact with it without giving
instant warning to the seat of life. For this reason they were accustomed
to stir up mixtures and potions with this "medicated finger," as it was
called, and when the ring became the symbol of marriage that finger was
chosen of all others for the wearing of it. Thus do we unknowingly keep
alive the superstitions of other times.
The Hindoos, whose books on the healing art date back to 1500 B.C.,
regarded sickness as the result of the operation of malevolent deities who
were either to be propitiated by prayers, offerings, charms, and
sacrifices, or to be overcome with the aid of friendly gods. The early
Greeks when suffering from disease were cured, not by means of medicine,
but by religious observances, and particularly by the "temple-sleep," in
which they dreamt dreams which the priests interpreted, and in which were
found the suggestions for remedy. It was Hippocrates, in 460 B.C., who
first proclaimed that disease was not of supernatural origin, and that it
could not be combated or cured by magic. But for many centuries later in
Europe the Black Art had greater sway than rational treatment. In Sweden
it is even now common for the lower classes to ascribe sickness to the
visitation of spirits (Nisse), who must be mollified by pouring liquor
into a goblet and mixing with it the filings of a bride-ring, or filings
of silver, or of any metal that has been inherited. The mixture is taken
to the place where the man is supposed to have caught his illness, and is
poured over the left shoulder, not a syllable being uttered the while.
After the performance of this ceremony the invalid may hope to recover.