was an odd way of extracting, as it was thought, the worm. A small
quantity of a mixture, consisting of dried and powdered herbs, was placed
in a tea-cup or other small vessel, and a live coke from the fire was
dropped in. The patient then held his or her open mouth over the cup, and
inhaled the smoke as long as it could be borne. The cup was then taken
away, and a fresh cup or glass, containing water, was then put before the
patient. Into this cup the patient breathed hard for a few moments, and
then, it was supposed, the grub or worm could be seen in the water."[4]
The following was communicated to the _Folk Lore Journal_ by Wm. Pengelly,
Esq., Torquay, February 1st, 1884:--
"Upwards of sixty years ago, a woman at Looe, in south-east Cornwall,
complained to a neighbouring woman that she was suffering from
toothache, on which the neighbour remarked that she could give a charm
of undoubted efficacy. It was to be in writing, and worn constantly
about the person; but, unfortunately, it would be valueless if the
giver and receiver were of the same sex. This difficulty was obviated
by calling in my services, and requesting me to write from dictation
the following words:--
'Peter sat in the gate of Jerusalem. Jesus cometh unto him and saith,
"Peter, what aileth thee?" He saith, "Lord, I am grievously tormented
with the toothache." He saith, "Arise, Peter, and follow me." He did
so, and immediately the toothache left him; and he followed him in the
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.'
The charm, being found to be correctly written, was held to have been
presented to me by the dictator. I at once gave it to the sufferer,
who placed it in a small bag and wore it round her neck."
A Roumanian charm against toothache is to sit beside an anthill, masticate
a crust of bread, spit it out over the anthill, and as the ants eat the
bread the toothache will cease.
Some believe that if you pick the aching tooth with the nail of an old
coffin, or drink the water taken from the tops of three waves, the
wearying pain may be relieved or cured. In Norfolk, the toothache is
called the "love pain," and the sufferer does not receive much sympathy.
Some time ago, a man wished to shew me some antiquity he had found, but
his jacket pocket was so filled with odds and ends ("kelterment," he
called it) that he turned all out in order to better prosecute his search.
Among the miscellaneous collection I noticed a potato, withered, dry,
hard, and black; and was informed it was kept as a preventive and cure for
rheumatism. For the same distressing, disabling disease, some people
spread treacle on brown paper, and apply hot to the part affected.
The following curious passages have been transcribed by my friend, Mr.
George Neilson, solicitor, Glasgow, from the Kirk Session Records of the
parish of Gretna, and are here inserted by his consent, most freely
given:--
"GRAITNEY KIRK, _Feb. 11, 1733_.
Session met after Sermon.
It was represented by some of the members that the Charms and Spells
used at Watshill for Francis Armstrong, Labouring under distemper of
mind, gave great offence, and 'twas worth while to enquire into the
affair and publickly admonish the people of the evil of such a course,
that a timely stop be put to such a practice.
Several of the members gave account that in Barbara Armstrang's they
burned Rowantree and Salt, they took three Locks of Francis's hair,
three pieces of his shirt, three roots of wormwood, three of mugwort,
three pieces of Rowantree, and boiled alltogether, anointed his Legs
with the water, and essayed to put three sups in his mouth, and
meantime kept the door close, being told by Isabel Pott, at Cross, in
Rockcliff commonly called the Wise Woman, that the person who had
wronged him would come to the door, but no access was to be given.
Francis, tho' distracted, told them they were using witch-craft and
the Devils Charms that would do no good. It is said they carried a
candle around the bed for one part of the inchantment. John Neilson,
in Sarkbridge, declared before the Session this was matter of fact
others then present. Mary Tate, Servant to John Neilson in Sarkbridge
is to be cited as having gone to the Wise Woman for Consultation."
"GRAITNEY KIRK, _Feb. 25, 1733_.
Session met after Sermon
Mary Tate having been summoned was called on, and compearing confessed
that she had gone to Isabel Pot, in the parish of Rockcliff, and
declared that the s{d} Isabell ordered South running water to be
lifted in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, and to be boiled
at night in the house where Francis Armstrong was, with nettle roots,
wormwood, mugwort, southernwood and rowantree, and his hands, legs and
temples be stroaked therewith, and three sups to be put in his mouth,
and withal to keep the door close: She ordered also three locks of his
hair to be burnt in the fire with three pieces clipt out of his shirt,
and a Slut, _i.e._, a rag dipt in tallow to be lighted and carried
round his bed, and all to be kept secret except from near friends:
Mary Tate declared that the said Francis would allow none to touch him
but her, and at last Helen Armestrange, Spouse to Archibald Crighton,
Elder, assisted her, and after all the said Francis, tho' distracted,
told them they were using witchcrafts and the Devil's Charms that
would do no good: Mary Tate being admonished of the Evil of such a
course was removed: Notwithstanding her acknowledgments of her fault
she is to be suspended _a sacris_, and others her accomplices, and
that none hereafter pretend Ignorance the Congregation is to be
cautioned against such a practice from the Pulpit."
Ague used to be much more prevalent than it now is. Drainage and
sanitation have banished many evils, and with the evil, the exorcists'
charm for the banishment of the evil. Charms, rather than medical
remedies, for the cure of ague, are very prevalent. Rider's _British
Merlin_ for 1715 lies before me. It is a thin 16mo. booklet of 48 printed
pages and 42 blank pages, but some of the blank inter-leaves have been
torn out. It is bound in parchment with gilt edges, and has had a clasp,
which has disappeared. One of the interleaves bears this written
charm:--"And Peter sat at the gate of Jerusalem and prayed, and Jesus
called Peter, and Peter said, Lord, I am sick of an ague, and the evil
ague being dismissed, Peter said, Lord, grant that whosoever weareth these
lines in writing, the evil ague may depart from them, and from all evil
ague good Lord deliver us." The following charm is taken from an old diary
of 1751[5]:--"When Jesus came near Pilate, He trembled like a leaf, and
the judge asked Him if He had the ague. He answered, He had neither the
ague, nor was He afraid; and whosoever bears these words in mind shall
never fear ague or anything else." A strange charm for this dreaded
disease was to be spoken up the wide cavernous chimney by the eldest
female of the family on St. Agnes' Eve. Thus spake she:--
"Tremble and go!
First day shiver and burn;
Tremble and quake!
Second day shiver and learn;
Tremble and die!
Third day never return."
A curious anecdote is related of Lord Chief Justice Holt. When a young
man, he, with companions who were law students like himself, ran up a
score at an inn, which they were not able to pay. Mr. Holt observed that
the landlord's daughter looked very ill, and, posing as a medical student,
asked what ailed her. He was informed she suffered from ague. Mr. Holt,
continuing to play the doctor, gathered sundry herbs, mixed them with
great ceremony, rolled them up in parchment, scrawled some characters on
the same, and to the great amusement of his companions, tied it round the
neck of the young woman, who straightway was cured of her ague. After the
cure, the pretending doctor offered to pay the bill, but the grateful
landlord and father would not consent, and allowed the party to leave the
house with hearts as light as their pockets.
Many years after, when on the Bench, a woman was brought before him
accused of witchcraft. She denied the charge, but said she had a wonderful
ball, which never failed to cure the ague. The charm was handed to the
judge, who recognised it as the very ball he had made for the young woman
at the inn, to help himself and his companions out of a difficult
position.[6]
In the west of England a live snail is sewn up in a bag and worn round the
neck as an antidote for ague; though others in the same district imprison
a spider in a box, and, as it pines away, so will the disease depart.
It is a common belief in the north of England that a person bitten by a
dog is liable to madness, if the dog which bit them goes mad. In order to
secure the bitten one from such a terrible fate, the owner of the dog is
often compelled to destroy it. Should he refuse to do so, the friends of
the injured party would probably poison it, The condition peculiar to the
morning following a night of debauchery, is said to need "a hair of the
dog that bit you," which doubtless refers to the means taken to prevent
ill effects following a dog bite. A wise saw from the Edda tells us that
"Dog's hair heals dog's bite." The following incident recorded in the
_Pall Mall Gazette_, Oct. 12th, 1866, shews most gross superstition in
this Victorian age. "At an inquest, held on the 5th of October, at
Bradfield, (Bucks.), on the body of a child of five years of age, which
had died of hydrophobia, evidence was given of a practice almost
incredible in civilised England. Sarah Mackness stated that at the request
of the mother of the deceased, she had fished out of the river the body of
the dog by which the child had been bitten, and had extracted its liver, a
slice of which she had frizzled before the fire, and had then given it to
the child to be eaten with some bread. The dog had been drowned nine days
before. The child ate the liver greedily, drank some tea afterwards, but
died, in spite of this strange specific."
Erysipelas in Donegal is known as the "rose." It is very common, but can
be cured by a stroker. The following is said to have happened. A nurse of
a Rector had the "rose," and the doctor was called in. After he was gone,
the woman's friends brought in a stroker, who rubbed the nurse with bog
moss, and then threw a bucket of bogwater over her in bed. This treatment
cured the woman, and is said to be generally in vogue, but is not
efficient except the right person does it.[7] In some parts of Yorkshire,
sheep's dung is applied as a poultice for the cure of erysipelas.
What is more distressing, both to patient and nurse, than whooping cough,
or king-cough, as it is sometimes called? A change of air is deemed
beneficial to the afflicted one, so the mothers of Hull take their
suffering children across the Humber to New Holland and back again. Some
call it "crossing strange water." Other people procure a "hairy worm," and
suspend it in a flannel cover round the neck of the sufferer, in the
belief that as the creature dies and wastes away, so will the cough
depart. This custom seems to be the relic of an old belief that something
of the nature of a hairy caterpillar was the cause of the cough, and Mr.
Tylor, in his _Primitive Culture_,[8] speaks of the ancient
homoeopathic doctrine that what hurts will also cure. In Gloucestershire
roasted mouse is considered a specific for whooping cough; though in
Yorkshire the same diet cure is adopted for croup, while rat pie is the
one to be used for whooping cough. The Norfolk peasants tie up a common
house spider in a piece of muslin, and when the luckless long-legged
spinner dies, the cough will soon disappear. A correspondent of _Notes and
Queries_ states that when staying in a village in Oxfordshire, he was
informed by an old woman that she and her brothers were cured of whooping
cough in the following way. They were required to go, the first thing in
the morning, to a hovel at a little distance from their house, where a fox
was kept. They carried with them a large can of milk, which was set down
before the fox, and when he had taken as much as he cared to drink, the
children shared among them what was left. The _Aberdeen Evening Gazette_
of 24th August, 1882, tells of a curious superstition in Lochee:--
"Hooping-cough being rather prevalent in Lochee at the present time,
various cures are resorted to with the view of allaying the distress.
Amongst these the old 'fret' of passing a child beneath the belly of a
donkey has come in for a share of patronage. A few days ago, two
children living with their parents in Camperdown Street, were
infected with the malady. A hawker's cart, with a donkey yoked to it,
happening to pass, the mothers thought this an excellent opportunity
to have their little ones relieved of their hacking cough. The donkey
was accordingly stopped, the children were brought forth, and the
ceremony began. The mothers, stationed at either side of the donkey,
passed and repassed the little creatures underneath the animal's
belly, and with evident satisfaction appeared to think that a cure
would in all probability be effected. Nor was this all; a piece of
bread was next given to the donkey to eat, one of the women holding
her apron beneath its mouth to catch the crumbs which might fall.
These were given to the children to eat, so as to make the cure
effectual. Whether these strange proceedings have resulted in
banishing the dreaded cough or not, has not been ascertained, and
probably never will be. A few years ago, the custom was quite common
in this quarter, but with the spread of education the people generally
know better than to attempt to cure hooping-cough through the agency
of a donkey."
The _North British Mail_ for 20th March 1883, among other superstitions in
Tiree, says, "On the west side of the island there is a rock with a hole
in it, through which children are passed when suffering from
whooping-cough or other complaints."
It is a common belief that if you wash your hands in water in which eggs
have been boiled, warts will make their appearance; also, that the blood
of a wart will cause other warts. Anyhow, if the warts be there, they can
either be cured or charmed away. The writer once had a row of warts,
thirteen in number, on his left arm. He was told by an aged dame, who sat
on a three-legged stool before her cottage door, smoking a short black
pipe, to take thirteen bad peas, throw them over his left shoulder, never
heeding where they went, all the while repeating some incantation, which
has been forgotten.
Cures are effected by rubbing the warts with something, which is
afterwards allowed to decay. Some rub the warts with a grey snail or slug,
and then impale the poor creature on a thorn; others steal a bit of beef,
not so much as Taffy made off with, rub the beef on the warts, and then
bury the beef. Lord Bacon, in his _Natural History_, says:--"I had from my
childhood a wart upon one of my fingers; afterwards, when I was about
sixteen years old, being then at Paris, there grew upon both my hands a
number of warts, at the least an hundred in a month's space. The English
Ambassador's lady, who was a woman far from superstitious, told me one day
she would help me away with my warts: whereupon she got a piece of lard
with the skin on, and rubbed the warts all over with the fat side; and
among the rest, the wart which I had from my childhood; then she nailed
the piece of lard, with the fat towards the sun, upon a post of her
chamber window, which was to the south. The success was, that within five
weeks' space all the warts went quite away; and that wart which I had so
long endured, for company.... They say the like is done by the rubbing of
warts with a green elder stick, and then burying the stick to rot in
muck."
In Withal's _Dictionary_ (1608) there is the following couplet:--
"The bone of a haire's foot closed in a ring,
Will drive away the cramp whenas it doth wing,"
but Pepys, who tells us the whole of his experience, with comments
thereon, used a hare's foot as a charm for colic. He says:--(20 Jan.
1664-5) "Homeward, in my way buying a hare and taking it home, which arose
upon my discourse to-day with Mr. Batten in Westminster Hall, who showed
me my mistake, that my hare's foot hath not the joynt in it, and assures
me he never had the cholique since he carried it about him; and it is a
strange thing how fancy works, for I no sooner handled his foot but I
became very well, and so continue."
(22nd.) "Now mighty well, and truly I can but impute it to my fresh hare's
foot."
(March 26) "Now I am at a loss to know whether it be my hare's foot which
is my preservation; for I never had a fit of collique since I wore it, or
whether it be my taking a pill of turpentine every morning."
The following newspaper cutting from the _Boston Herald_, 7th February,
1837, is worth preserving:--
"Nothing could be more absurd than the notions regarding some of these
supposed cures; a ring made of a hinge of a coffin had the power of
relieving cramps, which were also mitigated by having a rusty old
sword hanging up by the bedside. Nails driven in an oak tree prevented
the toothache. A halter that had served in hanging a criminal was an
infallible remedy for a head-ache when tied round the head; this
affection was equally cured by the moss growing upon the human skull
taken as cephalic snuff dried and pulverised. A dead man's hand could
dissipate tumours of the glands, by stroking the part nine times; but
the hand of a man who had been cut down from the gallows was the most
efficacious. The chips of a gallows on which several had been hanged,
when worn in a bag round the neck would cure the ague. A stone with a
hole in it, suspended at the head of a bed, would effectually stop the
night-mare, hence it was called a hag-stone, as it prevents the
troublesome witches from sitting upon the sleeper's stomach. The same
amulet, tied to the key of the stable door, deterred witches from
riding horses over the country."
Our forefathers firmly believed in planetary influence on the minds and
bodies of men, and no operation could be performed on any part of the body
unless the planet, ruling that particular part, were propitious. Rider's
_British Merlin_ for 1715, places the name of some part of the body--face,
neck, arms, breast, etc., opposite the days of the month, indicating that
the influence of the planets on that day is favourable to that particular
part or organ. An old proverb says:--
"Friday hair, Sunday horn,
You'll go the devil afore Monday morn,"
shewing that these days were unlucky for clipping hair and cutting nails.
The _York Fabric Rolls_[9] tell us that Maundy Thursday, the day before
Good Friday, was termed Shere Thursday, because "in olde faders dayes the
people wold that day _sheer_ theyr heddes and clype theyr berdes and poll
theyr heedes and so make them honest ayenst Easter Day." The same
interesting volume[10] gives the following account of charming away
fevers:--
"1528. Bishopwilton. Isabel Mure presented. She took fier, and ij yong
women w{t} hirr, and went to a rynnyng water, and light a wypse of
straw and sett it on the water, and said thus, 'Benedicite, se ye what
I see. I se the fier burne, and water rynne and the gryse grew, and
see flew and nyght fevers and all unkowth evils flee, and all other,
God will,' and after theis wordes said xv Pater Noster, xv Ave Maria
and thre credes."
The following is a reproduction of a receipt for Yellow Jonus (Jaundice)
copied from an old book in my possession. "A quart of whine (wine), a
penoth of Barbary barck, a penoth of Tormorch (Turmerich), a haporth of
flour of Brimstone for Jonous."
Of Physicians and their Fees,
WITH SOME PERSONAL REMINISCENCES.
BY ANDREW JAMES SYMINGTON, F.R.S.N.A.
In the whole range of professional life, or in any section of the
community, there is no set of men so self-denying, sympathetic,
philanthropic, liable to be called at any hour, day or night, and so
hard-worked, as medical practitioners. To begin with, there is first, a
long and expensive course of study, and, often, several years pass, before
a practice becomes even self-sustaining. Those at the head of the
profession attain to large incomes, and make their L20,000 a year. Noted
specialists, in particular, such as the late Dr. Mackenzie, get large
fees; but the majority of the profession conscientiously perform their
laborious and kindly ministrations ungrudgingly and with moderate
remuneration, which, in most cases, is certainly far short of their
deserts.
This state of matters has prevailed for many centuries, and, taking the
different value of money into account, notwithstanding the advance of
medical science, there is but little change in the scale of remuneration,
whether as to large fees paid by Royal or titled personages, fees by the
middle classes, or by the rural or working population.
It has been well said, that "the theory and practice of medicine is the
noblest and most difficult science in the world; and that there is no
other art for the practice of which the most thorough education is so
essential."
Whittier observes:--"It is the special vocation of the doctor to grow
familiar with suffering--to look upon humanity disrobed of its pride and
glory--robbed of all its fictitious ornaments--weak, hopeless, naked--and
undergoing the last fearful metempsychosis, from its erect and god-like
image, the living temple of an enshrined divinity, to the loathsome clod
and the inanimate dust! Of what ghastly secrets of moral and physical
disease is he the depository!"
Sir Thomas Browne, in his "Religio Medici," says:--"Men, that look no
further than their outsides, think health an appurtenance unto life, and
quarrel with their constitutions for being sick; but I, that have examined
the parts of man, and know upon what tender filaments that fabrick hangs,
do wonder that we are not always so; and, considering the thousand doors
that lead to death, do thank my God that we can die but once."
This model physician, who said, "I cannot go to cure the body of my
patient, but I forget my profession and call unto God for his soul," in
the same work, finely says of charity:--"Divinity hath wisely divided the
act thereof into many branches, and hath taught us, in this narrow way,
many paths unto goodness; as many ways as we may do good, so many ways we
may be charitable. There are infirmities not only of the body, but of soul
and fortunes, which do require the merciful hand of our abilities. I
cannot contemn a man for ignorance, but behold him with as much pity as I
do Lazarus. It is no greater charity to clothe his body than apparel the
nakedness of his soul."
His distinguished position, as a physician and an author, demands very
special and reverential mention in these pages.
Sir Thomas Browne was born in London on the 19th of October, 1605. He died
at Norwich on the 19th of October, 1682, having reached exactly the age of
seventy-seven. His father was a wealthy merchant, of a good Cheshire
family, but died when his more illustrious son was a boy, and his mother
shortly afterwards married Sir Thomas Dutton. After travelling on the
Continent, he settled as a practising physician at Shipley Hall, near
Halifax, for a time, and then moved to Norwich, where the remaining
forty-two years of his life were spent. His library contained vast stores
of learned works on antiquities, languages, and the curiosities of
erudition. He corresponded with the best men of his day, and was often
able to assist them in their various investigations. His friend Evelyn,
alluding to Browne's home, at Norwich, tells us "His whole house and
garden being a paradise and cabinet of rarities, and that of the best
collections, especially medals, books, plants, and natural things." He was
knighted by Charles II. in 1671.
Throughout the troublous times of the Civil War, the Commonwealth, and the
Restoration, he led a quiet studious life, issuing volume after volume
full of profound, penetrating, and far-reaching thought, set forth in
stately, sonorous, and musical language, the perfect form or style of
which, at times, is only equalled but not excelled by the best cadenced
prose of Milton or Jeremy Taylor.