CHAPTER XXIV. P. I.

QUACK AND NO QUACK, BEING AN ACCOUNT OF DR. GREEN AND HIS MAN KEMP.

POPULAR MEDICINE, HERBARY, THEORY OF SIGNATURES, WILLIAM DOVE, JOHN

WESLEY, AND BAXTER.

Hold thy hand! health's dear maintainer;

Life perchance may burn the stronger:

Having substance to maintain her

She untouched may last the longer.

When the Artist goes about

To redress her flame, I doubt

Oftentimes he snuffs it out.

QUARLES.

It was not often that Rowland Dixon exhibited at Ingleton. He took his

regular circuits to the fairs in all the surrounding country far and

wide; but in the intervals of his vocation, he, who when abroad was

the servant of the public, became his own master at home. His puppets

were laid up in ordinary, the voice of Punch ceased, and the master of

the motions enjoyed _otium cum dignitate_. When he favoured his

friends and neighbours with an exhibition, it was _speciali gratiâ_,

and in a way that rather enhanced that dignity than derogated from it.

A performer of a very different kind used in those days to visit

Ingleton in his rounds, where his arrival was always expected by some

of the community with great anxiety. This was a certain Dr. Green, who

having been regularly educated for the profession of medicine, and

regularly graduated in it, chose to practice as an itinerant, and take

the field with a Merry Andrew for his aid-de-camp. He was of a

respectable and wealthy family in the neighbourhood of Doncaster,

which neighbourhood on their account he never approached in his

professional circuits, though for himself he was far from being

ashamed of the character that he had assumed. The course which he had

taken had been deliberately chosen, with the twofold object of

gratifying his own humour, and making a fortune; and in the remoter as

well as in the immediate purpose, he succeeded to his heart's content.

It is not often that so much worldly prudence is found connected with

so much eccentricity of character. A French poetess, Madame de

Villedieu, taking as a text for some verses the liberal maxim _que la

vertu dépend autant du temperament que des loix_, says,

_Presque toujours chacun suit son caprice;

Heureux est le mortel que les destins amis

Ont partagé d'un caprice permis._

He is indeed a fortunate man who if he _must_ have a hobby-horse,

which is the same as saying if he _will_ have one, keeps it not merely

for pleasure, but for use, breaks it in well, has it entirely under

command, and gets as much work out of it as he could have done out of

a common roadster. Dr. Green did this; he had not taken to this

strange course because he was impatient of the restraints of society,

but because he fancied that his constitution both of body and of mind

required an erratic life; and that, within certain bounds which he

prescribed for himself, he might indulge in it, both to his own

advantage, and that of the community,—that part of the community at

least among whom it would be his lot to labour. Our laws had provided

itinerant Courts of Justice for the people. Our church had formerly

provided itinerant preachers; and after the Reformation when the

Mendicant Orders were abolished by whom this service used to be

performed, such preachers have never failed to appear during the

prevalence of any religious influenza. Dr. Green thought that

itinerant physicians were wanted; and that if practitioners regularly

educated and well qualified would condescend to such a course, the

poor ignorant people would no longer be cheated by travelling quacks,

and sometimes poisoned by them!

One of the most reprehensible arts to which the Reformers resorted in

their hatred of popery, was that of adapting vulgar verses to church

tunes, and thus associating with ludicrous images, or with something

worse, melodies which had formerly been held sacred. It is related of

Whitefield that he, making a better use of the same device, fitted

hymns to certain popular airs, because, he said, “there was no reason

why the Devil should keep all the good tunes to himself.” Green acted

upon a similar principle when he took the field as a Physician Errant,

with his man Kemp, like another Sancho for his Squire. But the Doctor

was no Quixote; and his Merry Andrew had all Sancho's shrewdness,

without any alloy of his simpleness.

In those times medical knowledge among the lower practitioners was at

the lowest point. Except in large towns the people usually trusted to

domestic medicine, which some Lady Bountiful administered from her

family receipt book; or to a Village Doctress whose prescriptions were

as likely sometimes to be dangerously active, as at others to be

ridiculous and inert. But while they held to their garden physic it

was seldom that any injury was done either by exhibiting wrong

medicines or violent ones.

Herbs, Woods and Springs, the power that in you lies

If mortal man could know your properties![1]

There was at one time abundant faith in those properties. The holy

Shepherdess in Fletcher's fine pastoral drama, which so infinitely

surpasses all foreign compositions of that class, thus apostrophises

the herbs which she goes out to cull:

O you best sons of earth,

You only brood unto whose happy birth

Virtue was given, holding more of Nature

Than man, her first-born and most perfect creature,—

Let me adore you, you that only can

Help or kill Nature, drawing out that span

Of life and breath even to the end of time!

So abundantly was the English garden stocked in the age of the Tudors,

that Tusser, after enumerating in an Appendix to one of his Chapters

two and forty herbs for the kitchen, fourteen others for sallads or

sauces, eleven to boil or butter, seventeen as strewing herbs, and

forty “herbs branches and flowers for windows and pots,” adds a list

of seventeen herbs “to still in summer,” and of five and twenty

“necessary herbs to grow in the garden for physic, not rehearsed

before;” and after all advises his readers to seek more in the fields.

He says,

The nature of Flowers dame Physic doth shew;

She teacheth them all to be known to a few.

Elsewhere he observes that

The knowledge of stilling is one pretty feat,

The waters be wholesome, the charges not great.

[Footnote 1: FLETCHER.]

In a comedy of Lord Digby's, written more than a hundred years after

Tusser's didactics, one of the scenes is laid in a lady's laboratory,

“with a fountain in it, some stills, and many shelves, with pots of

porcelain and glasses;” and when the lady wishes to keep her attendant

out of the way, she sends her there, saying

I have a task to give you,——carefully

To shift the oils in the perfuming room,

As in the several ranges you shall see

The old begin to wither. To do it well

Will take you up some hours, but 'tis a work

I oft perform myself.

And Tusser among “the Points of Housewifery united to the Comfort of

Husbandry,” includes good housewifely physic, as inculcated in these

rhymes;

Good houswife provides ere an sickness do come,

Of sundry good things in her house to have some;

Good _aqua composita_, and vinegar tart,

Rose water, and treacle to comfort the heart;

Cold herbs in her garden for agues that burn,

That over-strong heat to good temper may turn;

White endive, and succory, with spinage enow,

All such with good pot-herbs should follow the plough.

Get water of fumitory liver to cool,

And others the like, or else go like a fool;

Conserves of barberry, quinces and such,

With syrups that easeth the sickly so much.

Old Gervase Markham in his “Approved Book called the English

Housewife, containing the inward and outward virtues which ought to be

in a complete woman,” places her skill in physic as one of the most

principal; “you shall understand,” he says, “that sith the

preservation and care of the family touching their health and

soundness of body consisteth most in her diligence, it is meet that

she have a physical kind of knowledge, how to administer any wholesome

receipts or medicines for the good of their healths, as well to

prevent the first occasion of sickness, as to take away the effects

and evil of the same, when it hath made seizure upon the body.” And

“as it must be confessed that the depths and secrets of this most

excellent art of physic, are far beyond the capacity of the most

skilful woman,” he relates for the Housewife's use some “approved

medecines and old doctrines, gathered together by two excellent and

famous physicians, and in a manuscript given to a great worthy

Countess of this land.”

The receipts collected in this and other books for domestic practice

are some of them so hyper-composite that even Tusser's garden could

hardly supply all the indigenous ingredients; others are of the most

fantastic kind, and for the most part they were as troublesome in

preparation, and many of them as disgusting, as they were futile. That

“Sovereign Water” which was invented by Dr. Stephens was composed of

almost all known spices, and all savoury and odorous herbs, distilled

in claret. With this Dr. Stephens “preserved his own life until such

extreme old age that he could neither go nor ride; and he did continue

his life, being bed-rid five years, when other physicians did judge he

could not live one year; and he confessed a little before his death,

that if he were sick at any time, he never used any thing but this

water only. And also the Archbishop of Canterbury used it, and found

such goodness in it that he lived till he was not able to drink out of

a cup, but sucked his drink through a hollow pipe of silver.”

Twenty-nine plants were used in the composition of Dr. Adrian

Gilbert's most sovereign Cordial Water, besides hartshorn, figs,

raisins, gillyflowers, cowslips, marygolds, blue violets, red

rose-buds, ambergris, bezoar-stone, sugar, aniseed, liquorice, and to

crown all, “what else you please.” But then it was sovereign against

all fevers; and one who in time of plague should take two spoonsfull

of it in good beer, or white wine, “he might walk safely from danger,

by the leave of God.”—The Water of Life was distilled from nearly as

many ingredients, to which were added a fleshy running capon, the

loins and legs of an old coney, the red flesh of the sinews of a leg

of mutton, four young chickens, twelve larks, the yolks of twelve

eggs, and a loaf of white bread, all to be distilled in white wine.

For consumption, there were pills in which powder of pearls, of white

amber and of coral, were the potential ingredients; there was

cockwater, the cock being to be chased and beaten before he was

killed, or else plucked alive! and there was a special water procured

by distillation, from a peck of garden shell-snails and a quart of

earth worms, besides other things; this was prescribed not for

consumption alone, but for dropsy and all obstructions. For all

faintness, hot agues, heavy fantasies and imaginations, a cordial was

prepared in tabulates, which were called _Manus Christi_: the true

receipt required one ounce of prepared pearls to twelve of fine sugar,

boiled with rose water, violet water, cinnamon water, “or howsoever

one would have them.” But apothecaries seldom used more than a drachm

of pearls to a pound of sugar, because men would not go to the cost

thereof; and the _Manus Christi simplex_ was made without any pearl at

all. For broken bones, bones out of joint, or any grief in the bones

or sinews, oil of swallows was pronounced exceeding sovereign, and

this was to be procured by pounding twenty live swallows in a mortar

with about as many different herbs! A mole, male or female according

to the sex of the patient, was to be dried in an oven whole as taken

out of the earth, and administered in powder for the falling evil. A

grey eel with a white belly was to be closed in an earthen pot, and

buried alive in a dunghill, and at the end of a fortnight its oil

might be collected to “help hearing.” A mixture of rose leaves and

pigeon's dung quilted in a bag, and laid hot upon the parts affected,

was thought to help a stitch in the side; and for a quinsey, “give the

party to drink,” says Markham, “the herb mouse-ear, steept in ale or

beer; and look when you see a swine rub himself, and there upon the

same place rub a slick-stone, and then with it slick all the swelling,

and it will cure it.”

To make hair grow on a bald part of the head, garden snails were to be

plucked out of their houses, and pounded with horse-leaches, bees,

wasps and salt, an equal quantity of each; and the baldness was to be

anointed with the moisture from this mixture after it had been buried

eight days in a hot bed. For the removal and extirpation of

superfluous hairs, a depilatory was to be made by drowning in a pint

of wine as many green frogs as it would cover, (about twenty was the

number,) setting the pot forty days in the sun, and then straining it

for use.

A water specially good against gravel or dropsy might be distilled

from the dried and pulverized blood of a black buck or he-goat, three

or four years old. The animal was to be kept by himself, in the summer

time when the sun was in Leo, and dieted for three weeks upon certain

herbs given in prescribed order, and to drink nothing but red wine, if

you would have the best preparation, though some persons allowed him

his fill of water every third day. But there was a water of mans blood

which in Queen Elizabeth's days was a new invention, “whereof some

princes had very great estimation, and used it for to remain thereby

in their force, and, as they thought, to live long.” A strong man was

to be chosen, in his flourishing youth, and of twenty-five years, and

somewhat choleric by nature. He was to be well dieted for one month

with light and healthy meats, and with all kinds of spices, and with

good strong wine, and moreover to be kept with mirth; at the month's

end veins in both arms were to be opened, and as much blood to be let

out as he could “tolerate and abide.” One handful of salt was to be

added to six pounds of this blood, and this was to be seven times

distilled, pouring the water upon the residuum after every

distillation, till the last. This was to be taken three or four times

a year, an ounce at a time. One has sight of a theory here; the life

was thought to be in the blood, and to be made transferable when thus

extracted.

Richard Brathwait, more famous since Mr. Haslewood has identified him

with Drunken Barnaby, than as author of “the English Gentleman and the

English Gentlewoman, presented to present times for ornaments, and

commended to posterity for precedents,” says of this Gentlewoman,

“herbals she peruseth, which she seconds with conference; and by

degrees so improves her knowledge, as her cautelous care perfits many

a dangerous cure.” But herbals were not better guides than the medical

books of which specimens have just been set before the reader, except

that they did not lead the practitioner so widely and perilously

astray. “Had Solomon,” says the author of Adam in Eden, or the

Paradise of Plants, “that great proficient in all sublunary

experiments, preserved those many volumes that he wrote in this kind,

for the instruction of future ages, so great was that spaciousness of

mind that God had bestowed on him, that he had immediately under the

Deity been the greatest of Doctors for the preservation of mankind:

but with the loss of his books so much lamented by the Rabbins and

others, the best part of this herbarary art hath since groaned under

the defects of many unworthy authors, and still remains under divers

clouds and imperfections.” This writer, “the ingeniously learned and

excellent Herbarist Mr. William Coles,” professing as near as possible

to acquaint all sorts of people with the very pith and marrow of

herbarism, arranges his work according to the anatomical application

of plants, “appropriating,” says he, “to every part of the body, (from

the crown of the head, with which I begin, and proceed till I come to

the sole of the foot,) such herbs and plants whose grand uses and

virtues do most specifically, and by signature thereunto belong, not

only for strengthening the same, but also for curing the evil effects

whereunto they are subjected:—the signatures being as it were the

books out of which the ancients first learned the virtues of herbs;

Nature, or rather the God of Nature, having stamped on divers of them

legible characters to discover their uses, though he hath left others

without any, that after he had shewed them the way, they, by their

labour and industry which renders every thing more acceptable, might

find out the rest.” It was an opinion often expressed by a physician

of great and deserved celebrity, that in course of time specifics

would be discovered for every malady to which the human frame is

liable. He never supposed, (though few men have ever been more

sanguine in their hopes and expectations,) that life was thus to be

indefinitely prolonged, and that it would be man's own fault, or his

own choice, if he did not live for ever; but he thought that when we

should thus have been taught to subdue those diseases which cut our

life short, we should, like the Patriarchs, live out the number of our

days, and then fall asleep,—Man being by this physical redemption

restored to his original corporeal state.

Then shall like four straight pillars, the four Elements

Support the goodly structure of Mortality:

Then shall the four Complexions, like four heads

Of a clear river, streaming in his body,

Nourish and comfort every vein and sinew:

No sickness of contagion, no grim death,

Or deprivation of health's real blessings,

Shall then affright the creature, built by Heaven,

Reserved for immortality.[2]

[Footnote 2: FORD.]

He had not taken up this notion from any religious feeling; it was

connected in him with the pride of philosophy, and he expected that

this was one of the blessings which we were to obtain in the progress

of knowledge.

Some specific remedies being known to exist, it is indeed reasonable

to suppose that others will be found. Old theorists went farther; and

in a world which everywhere bears such undeniable evidences of design

in every thing, few theories should seem more likely to be favourably

received than the one which supposed that every healing plant bears,

in some part of its structure, the type or signature of its peculiar

virtues: now this could in no other way be so obviously marked, as by

a resemblance to that part of the human frame for which its remedial

uses were intended. There is a fable indeed which says that he who may

be so fortunate as to taste the blood of a certain unknown animal

would be enabled thereby to hear the voice of plants and understand

their speech; and if he were on a mountain at sunrise, he might hear

the herbs which grow there, when freshened with the dews of night they

open themselves to the beams of the morning, return thanks to the

Creator for the virtues with which he has indued them, each specifying

what those virtues were, _le quali veramente son tante e tali che

beati i pastori che quelle capessero_. A botanical writer who

flourished a little before the theory of signatures was started

complains that herbal medicine had fallen into disuse; he says,

“_antequam chemia patrum nostrorum memoriâ orbi restitueretur,

contenti vivebant ὅι τῶν ἰατρῶν κομψὸι και χαριὲστατοι pharmacis ex

vegetabilium regno accersitis parum solliciti de Solis sulphure et

oleo, de Lunæ sale et essentiâ, de Saturni saccaro, de Martis tincturâ

et croco, de vitriolo Veneris, de Mercurio præcipitato, et Antimonii

floribus, de Sulphuris spiritu et Tartari crystallis: nihilominus

masculè debellabant morbos, et tutè et jucundè. Nunc sæculi nostri

infelicitas est, quod vegetabilibus contemptim habitis, plerique nihil

aliud spirant præter metallica ista, et extis parata horribilia

secreta._”[3] The new theory came in timely aid of the Galenists; it

connected their practice with a doctrine hardly less mysterious than

those of the Paracelsists, but more plausible because it seemed

immediately intelligible, and had a natural religious feeling to

strengthen and support it.

[Footnote 3: Petri Laurembergii Rostochiensis Horticultura—Præloquium,

p. 10.]

The Author of Adam in Eden refers to Oswald Crollius as “the great

discoverer of signatures,” and no doubt has drawn from him, most of

his remarks upon this theory of physical correspondence. The

resemblance is in some cases very obvious; but in many more the

Swedenborgian correspondences are not more fantastic; and where the

resemblances exist the inference is purely theoretical.

Walnuts are said to have the perfect signature of the head; the outer

husks or green covering represents the _pericranium_, or outward skin

of the skull, whereon the hair groweth,—and therefore salt made of

those husks is exceeding good for wounds in the head. The inner woody

shell hath the signature of the skull, and the little yellow skin or

peel, that of the _dura_ and _pia mater_ which are the thin scarfs

that envelope the brain. The kernel hath “the very figure of the

brain, and therefore it is very profitable for the brain and resists

poisons.” So too the Piony, being not yet blown, was thought to have

“some signature and proportion with the head of man, having sutures

and little veins dispersed up and down, like unto those which environ

the brain: when the flowers blow they open an outward little skin

representing the skull:” the piony therefore besides its other virtues

was very available against the falling sickness. Poppy heads with

their crowns somewhat represent the head and brain, and therefore

decoctions of them were used with good success in several diseases of

the head. And Lillies of the Valley, which in Coles's days grew

plentifully upon Hampstead-heath, were known by signature to cure the

apoplexy; “for as that disease is caused by the dropping of humours

into the principal ventricles of the brain, so the flowers of this

lilly hanging on the plants as if they were drops, are of wonderful

use herein.”

All capillary herbs were of course sovereign in diseases of the hair;

and because the purple and yellow spots and stripes upon the flowers

of Eyebright very much resemble the appearance of diseased eyes, it

was found out by that signature that this herb was very effectual “for

curing of the same.” The small Stone-crop hath the signature of the

gums, and is therefore good for scurvy. The exquisite Crollius

observed that the woody scales of which the cones of the pine tree are

composed, resemble the fore teeth; and therefore pine leaves boiled in

vinegar make a gargle which relieves the tooth-ache. The Pomegranate

has a like virtue for a like reason. Thistles and Holly leaves signify

by their prickles that they are excellent for pleurisy and stiches in

the side. Saxifrage manifesteth in its growth its power of breaking

the stone. It had been found experimentally that all roots, barks and

flowers which were yellow, cured the yellow jaundice; and though

Kidney beans as yet were only used for food, yet having so perfect a

signature, practitioners in physic were exhorted to take it into

consideration and try whether there were not in this plant some

excellent faculty to cure nephritic diseases. In pursuing this

fantastic system examples might be shown of that mischief, which,

though it may long remain latent, never fails at some time or other to

manifest itself as inherent in all error and falsehood.

When the mistresses of families grounded their practice of physic upon

such systems of herbary, or took it from books which contained

prescriptions like those before adduced, (few being either more simple

or more rational,) Dr. Green might well argue that when he mounted his

hobby and rode out seeking adventures as a Physician-Errant, he went

forth for the benefit of his fellow creatures. The guidance of such

works, or of their own traditional receipts, the people in fact then

generally followed. Burton tells us that Paulus Jovius in his

description of Britain, and Levinus Lemnius have observed, of this our

island, how there was of old no use of physic amongst us, and but

little at this day, except he says “it be for a few nice idle

citizens, surfeiting courtiers, and stall-fed gentlemen lubbers. The

country people use kitchen physic.” There are two instances among the

papers of the Berkeley family, of the little confidence which persons

of rank placed upon such medical advice and medicinal preparations as

could be obtained in the country, and even in the largest of our

provincial cities. In the second year of Elizabeth's reign Henry Lord

Berkeley “having extremely heated himself by chasing on foot a tame

deer in Yate Park, with the violence thereof fell into an immoderate

bleeding of the nose, to stay which, by the ill counsel of some about

him, he dipt his whole face into a bason of cold water, whereby,” says

the family chronicler, “that flush and fulness of his nose which

forthwith arose could never be remedied, though for present help he

had Physicians in a few days from London, and for better help came

thither himself not long after to have the advice of the whole

College, and lodged with his mother at her house in Shoe-lane.”—He

never afterwards could sing with truth or satisfaction the old song,

Nose, Nose, jolly red Nose,

And what gave thee that jolly red Nose?

Cinnamon and Ginger, Nutmegs and Cloves,

And they gave me this jolly red Nose.

A few years later, “Langham an Irish footman of this Lord, upon the

sickness of the Lady Catherine, this Lord's wife, carried a letter

from Callowdon to old Dr. Fryer, a physician dwelling in Little

Britain in London; and returned with a glass bottle in his hand

compounded by the doctor for the recovery of her health, a journey of

an hundred and forty-eight miles performed by him in less than

forty-two hours, notwithstanding his stay of one night at the

physician's and apothecary's houses, which no one horse could have so

well and safely performed.” No doubt it was for the safer conveyance

of the bottle, that a footman was sent on this special errand, for

which the historian of that noble family adds, “the lady shall after

give him a new suit of cloaths.”

In those days, and long after, they who required remedies were likely

to fare ill, under their own treatment, or that of their neighbours;

and worse under the travelling quack, who was always an ignorant and

impudent impostor, but found that human sufferings and human credulity

afforded him a never-failing harvest. Dr. Green knew this: he did not

say with the Romish priest _populus vult decipi, et decipietur!_ for

he had no intention of deceiving them; but he saw that many were to be

won by buffoonery, more by what is called _palaver_, and almost all by

pretensions. Condescending therefore to the common arts of quackery,

he employed his man Kemp to tickle the multitude with coarse wit; but

he stored himself with the best drugs that were to be procured,

distributed as general remedies such only as could hardly be

misapplied and must generally prove serviceable; and brought to

particular cases the sound knowledge which he had acquired in the

school of Boerhaave, and the skill which he had derived from

experience aided by natural sagacity. When it became convenient for

him to have a home, he established himself at Penrith, in the County

of Cumberland, having married a lady of that place; but he long

continued his favourite course of life and accumulated in it a large

fortune. He gained it by one maggot, and reduced it by many:

nevertheless there remained a handsome inheritance for his children.

His son proved as maggotty as the father, ran through a good fortune,

and when confined in the King's Bench prison for debt, wrote a book

upon the Art of cheap living in London!

The father's local fame, though it has not reached to the third and

fourth generation, survived him far into the second; and for many

years after his retirement from practice, and even after his death

every travelling mountebank in the northern counties adopted the name

of Dr. Green.

At the time to which this chapter refers, Dr. Green was in his

meridian career, and enjoyed the highest reputation throughout the

sphere of his itinerancy. Ingleton lay in his rounds, and whenever he

came there he used to send for the schoolmaster to pass the evening

with him. He was always glad if he could find an opportunity also of

conversing with the elder Daniel, as the Flossofer of those parts.

William Dove could have communicated to him more curious things

relating to his own art; but William kept out of the presence of

strangers, and had happily no ailments to make him seek the Doctor's

advice; his occasional indispositions were but slight, and he treated

them in his own way. That way was sometimes merely superstitious,

sometimes it was whimsical, and sometimes rough. If his charms failed

when he tried them upon himself, it was not for want of faith. When at

any time it happened that one of his eyes was blood-shot, he went

forthwith in search of some urchin whose mother, either for laziness,

or in the belief that it was wholesome to have it in that state,

allowed his ragged head to serve as a free warren for certain “small

deer.” One of these hexapeds William secured, and “using him as if he

loved him,” put it into his eye; when according to William's account

the insect fed upon what it found, cleared the eye, and disappearing

he knew not where or how, never was seen more.

His remedy for the cholic was a pebble posset; white pebbles were

preferred, and of these what was deemed a reasonable quantity was

taken in some sort of milk porridge. Upon the same theory he sometimes

swallowed a pebble large enough as he said to clear all before it; and

for that purpose they have been administered of larger calibre than

any bolus that ever came from the hands of the most merciless

apothecary, as large indeed sometimes as a common sized walnut. Does

the reader hesitate at believing this of an ignorant man, living in a

remote part of the country? Well might William Dove be excused, for a

generation later than his John Wesley prescribed in his Primitive

Physic quicksilver, to be taken ounce by ounce, to the amount of one,

two, or three pounds, till the desired effect was produced. And a

generation earlier, Richard Baxter of happy memory and unhappy

digestion, having read in Dr. Gerhard “the admirable effects of the

swallowing of a gold bullet upon his father,” in a case which Baxter

supposed to be like his own, got a gold bullet of between twenty and

thirty shillings weight, and swallowed it. “Having taken it,” says he,

“I knew not how to be delivered of it again. I took clysters and

purges for about three weeks, but nothing stirred it; and a gentleman

having done the like, the bullet never came from him till he died, and

it was cut out. But at last my neighbours set a day apart to fast and

pray for me, and I was freed from my danger in the beginning of that

day!”

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