Eighteenth Century Waifs

We can well imagine the good man, when he got back to Tring, giving, for a long time, his soul-harrowing experiences of that memorable voyage. He should have lived in our days and have been ‘Our Special Correspondent’ on whom the editor of the newspaper relies to fill so many columns – for every detail is taken, evidently note-book in hand. Witness this: ‘When our sails were displayed, and our cable unloosed, assisted by a gentle gale, we began by degrees to view the lofty towers, the aspiring churches, and all the grandeurs of London at a distance behind us: in hopes of finding something we could not find in town, we turned our attention from the pleasures, and riches, and pomps of London; we bid farewel, for a time, to our dearest friends; we laid aside our daily and domestic cares, and cheerfully forsook the dear delights of home.’

At length they were fairly started on their voyage, which from the crowded state of the river, and the excessive timidity of the writer, must have been vastly perilous. ‘Our vessel, though it set sail with a fair wind, and gently fell down the river towards her destined port, yet once or twice was nearly striking against other vessels in the river, to her own injury; but, by the care of the steersman and sailors, she was timely prevented… There was no spectacle more affecting, in all the little voyage, than the bodies of those unhappy malefactors which were hung up, in terrorem, on the margin of the river Thames. Surely these was some of the execrable characters whom Justice pursued, who, though “they escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffered not to live. Acts 28. – 4.” … Having passed these spectacles of horror, a fair wind and flowing tide smoothly carried us towards the boundless ocean…

‘When we drew towards the conflux of the river Thames there were two objects that attracted our notice: the one, the King’s guardship, placed there for the purposes of good œconomy, the other a large painted vessel which floated on the surface of the water, and is called a buoy. While we were passing the king’s ship, I heard the report of a cannon, and saw the flash of the charge at some distance; and, on inquiring the reason of such a circumstance, was informed it was customary for every ship which passed, by way of obedience, to lower her topsail; but the firing of the gun made them hasten to show their obedience, for fear of a more unfavourable salute; for, though a flash of powder might give us some alarm, the discharge of a ball might make us feel the effects of disobedience… Hitherto the generality of our company appeared to carry jollity and mirth in their countenances; but now we began to see the blushing rose die in the sickly cheek, and several of our passengers began to feel the sickening effects of the rolling sea; they withdrew from their mirth, and in pleasure crept into a corner, and silently mourned their lost pleasures in solitude… Thrice happy the souls who are by divine grace made sick of unsatisfying delights, and compelled to withdraw from unsatisfying objects, and seek and find permanent bliss in the friendship of Immanuel!

‘There had been the appearance of affability and good-humour kept up among the passengers of our vessel, and a reciprocal exchange of civilities had passed between them; our bad tempers were for awhile laid aside, and we seemed mutually agreed to make each other as innocently happy as our present. If the same mode of conduct was observed through the whole of our department, how would the ills of life be softened, and the ties of society sweetened!..

‘The eyelid of the day was now nearly closed upon us, and the gloom of darkness began to surround us, which, together with the hollow bellowing of the wind, and dashing waves, had a tendency to create very solemn ideas in the mind; and I, being a stranger to such scenes, had my mind exercised upon things of greater importance…

‘About ten o’clock on Friday night we were brought safely into the harbour of Margate, and then cast anchor in order to set a great number of our passengers on shore, who were bound for that place of rendezvous. How great are the advantages of navigation! By the skill and care of three men and a boy, a number of persons were in safety conveyed from one part to another of the kingdom…

‘When we had safely landed our passengers at Margate, we weighed anchor at eleven o’clock at night, in order to sail round the North Foreland for Ramsgate. The North Foreland is a point of land which stretches out some way into the sea, and is the extreme part of our country on the right hand, when we sail down the river Thames; and sailing round the point into the British Channel is esteemed by sailors rather dangerous. However, there was danger enough to awaken the apprehensions of a freshwater sailor. Yet here with some degree of confidence in Him who exercises His power over the sea and dry land, I laid me down and slept in quietness, while the rattling waves drove against the sides of our vessel, and the rustling winds shook our sails, and made our yielding masts to speak. I was led to reflect that now there was but a feeble plank between me and the bottomless deep, yet, by a reliance on the divine goodness, my fears were hushed, and a divine calm prevailed within. “Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is staid on thee.” Isaiah 26. – 3.

‘On Saturday morning I awoke and heard a peaceful sound from shore, which informed me it was two o’clock; and, inquiring where we were, I found we were safe anchored within the commodious harbour of Ramsgate. Being so early an hour, we again composed ourselves to sleep, and lay till five o’clock; then leaving our sleeping apartment, and mounting the peaceful deck – not like the frighted sailor, who leaves the horrid hulk to view a thousand deaths from winds, and waves, and rocks, without a friendly shore in view – but to see one of the finest retreats from all these dangers, which Providence has provided for the safety of those who are exposed to the violence and rage of angry elements. The commodious Pier of Ramsgate seems admirably calculated to shelter and protect vessels which are threatened with destruction from winds and waves. This beautiful piece of architecture is built in the form of a Crescent, or half-moon, the points of which join to the land… The whole of this building of utility appeared to bear a clear resemblance to the glorious Mediator in his offices, who is appointed for a refuge from the storm…

‘By six in the morning we went on shore, and joyfully met our friends, who were brought down the day before; but in their passage were overtaken by a violent storm of thunder and lightning, whilst our voyage was smooth and prosperous; but, in the morning, we all met in peace and safety. Thus we sat down to a friendly breakfast, and cheerfully talked over the adventures of the little voyage. Something like this, I think, may take place in the state of blessedness… While we were thus employed, we consulted how to dispose of ourselves while we continued at Ramsgate; we mutually agreed to form ourselves into a little family, and though we could not all lodge, yet we wished to board together in the same house.’ This is a pleasing instance of bonne camaraderie engendered, in a short time, among agreeable companions.

‘In order to pursue the design of our coming, some of our company mixed among the bathers at the seaside. The convenience of bathing, the coolness of a fine summer’s morning, the agreeable appearance of company so early, and the novelty of the scene, had a very pleasing effect… We began to look around us; and though we were not presented with objects of taste and elegance, yet the town and environs afforded us some rural prospects, which yielded both instruction and pleasure. Upon our left hand, as we ascended from the sea-side, stands the seat of observation, erected on a point of land, and commanding an extensive prospect over that part of the sea called the Downs, where you behold a number of ships lying at anchor, or on their passage to different parts of the world. From thence you may likewise see the lofty cliffs of France, and reverberating the light of the sun; while, at the same time, you may, by way of amusement, watch the motions of every boat coming in and going out of the harbour; and, as the sea is always varying, its appearance altogether affords an agreeable amusement. Here the Company frequently stop to rest themselves after a morning’s or an evening’s walk, and are sweetly regaled by the cool refreshing breezes of the sea…

‘It might be thought strange was I to say nothing of Margate, that being the chief resort for bathers, and of growing repute. The town of Margate is in a very increasing state, and its principal ornaments consist of its late additions. The chief concern of the publick seems to render it as much a place for pleasure as utility, as, under colour of utility, persons can pursue pleasure without censure. A mother, for instance, might be highly blamed by her acquaintance for leaving her family for a month, and going to spend her husband’s money; but who can blame her when her health requires it? They are modelling it according to the taste of the times. They have, indeed, built one place of worship, but a playhouse nearly four times as large. Thus, when ill-health does not interrupt the company’s pursuit of amusement, they are likely soon to be accommodated to their minds. Such is the provision already made, that the consumptive cough of a delicate lady may be furnished with the relief of the fumes of a smoking hot assembly-room, and the embarrassed citizen may drown his anxiety in the amusements of the Card-table…

‘The libraries are decently furnished, and may serve as a kind of lounging Exchange, where persons overburdened with money and time may ease themselves with great facility. The most healthful amusement, and best suited to invalids, that is pursued at Margate, is that of the bowling-green, where, upon the top of a hill, and in full prospect of the sea, in a free open air, gentlemen may exercise their bodies, and unbend their minds; this, if pursued for the benefit of health and innocent recreation, with a serious friend, appears to have no more criminality in it than Peter’s going a fishing…

‘Having staid as long at Ramsgate as our affairs at home would, with prudence, admit; we went on board the same ship, and re-embarked for London. In order, I suppose, to take the better advantage, we sailed some leagues right out to sea; but, it being a dead calm, we hardly experienced any other motion than was occasioned by the tide and swell of the sea for that night. The cry of the sailors, Blow! Blow! reminded me of that pathetick exclamation of the ancient Church! The next day proved equally calm, so that we had little else to divert us but walk about the deck, and watch the rolling of the porpoises in the sea. We had an old sailor on board, whose patience being tired, declared he preferred being at sea in a storm to being becalmed on the ocean, which struck me with the propriety of the observation, when applied to Christian experience; for a storm, under Divine direction, is often made the means of hastening the Christian’s progress, while a dead calm is useless and unsafe.’

It took them two days to get to Margate, and another day to reach Gravesend. On their way they passed a vessel cast on shore, which ‘cut a dismal figure, such as they make, to an enlightened eye, who make shipwreck of faith, whom Christians see, as they pursue their course, run aground, and dash to pieces.’

By the time they came to Gravesend some of the passengers had had enough of the Hoy – so they hired a boat and four men to row them to London, but the wind getting up, the river became rough, and the boat being over-loaded, the boatmen begged them to get on board a fishing-smack, which they did, and arrived at Billingsgate safely. We can hardly imagine, in these days of steam, that a journey from Ramsgate to London would last from Monday morning to Wednesday night, but people did not hurry themselves too much in those days.

QUACKS OF THE CENTURY

In all ages there have been pretenders to medical science, and it has been reserved to the present century to elevate the healing art into a real science, based on proper physiological facts, aided by the searching analyses of modern chemistry. The old alchemists had died out, yet they had some pretensions to learning, but the pharmacopœia at the commencement of the eighteenth century was in a deplorable condition. Surgery, for rough purposes, had existed since the earliest ages, because accidents would happen, then as now; and, moreover, there were wars, which necessitated the amputation of limbs, etc., but medicine, except in the knowledge of the virtue of herbs and simples, was in more than a primitive state. Anyone who chose, could dub himself Doctor, and, naturally, the privilege was largely taken advantage of.

The name of quack, or quacksalver, does not seem to have been much used before the seventeenth century, and its derivation has not been distinctly settled. In the ‘Antiquities of Egypt,’ etc., by William Osburn, junior, London, 1847, p. 94, he says: ‘The idea of a physician is frequently represented by a species of duck, the name of which is CHIN: the Egyptian word for physician was also CHINI.’ But neither Pierret, in his ‘Vocabulaire Hieroglyphique,’ nor Bunsen, in ‘Egypt’s Place in Universal History,’ endorse this statement. Still the Egyptian equivalent for cackling, or the noise of a goose, was Ka ka, and in Coptic Ouok, pronounced very much like quack.

The Germans also use the word Quacksalber, and the Dutch Kwaksalver, a term which Bilderdijk, in his ‘Geslachtlijst der Naamwoorden,’ (derivation or gender of men’s names) says, ought more properly to be Kwabsalver, from Kwab, a wen, and Salver, to anoint. Be this as it may, the English word quack certainly means an illegitimate medical practitioner, a pretender to medical science, whose pretensions are not warranted by his knowledge.

The seventeenth century was prolific in quacks – a notable example being John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. Both Bishop Burnet and De Gramont agree that, during one of his banishments from Court, he lived in Tower Street (next door to the sign of the ‘Black Swan,’ at a goldsmith’s house), and there practised as a quack doctor, as one Alexander Bendo, newly arrived from Germany. There is a famous mountebank speech of his extant, copies of which exist not only in broad sheets, but in some of the jest-books of the seventeenth century, which, genuine or not, is very amusing. It is far too long to transcribe here, but perhaps I may be pardoned if I give a short extract.

‘The knowledge of these secrets I gathered in my travels abroad (where I have spent my time ever since I was fifteen years old to this, my nine and twentieth year) in France and Italy. Those that have travelled in Italy will tell you what a miracle of art does there assist nature in the preservation of beauty: how women of forty bear the same countenance with them of fifteen: ages are no way distinguished by faces; whereas, here in England, look a horse in the mouth and a woman in the face, you presently know both their ages to a year. I will, therefore, give you such remedies that, without destroying your complexion (as most of your paints and daubings do) shall render them perfectly fair; clearing and preserving them from all spots, freckles, heats, pimples, and marks of the small-pox, or any other accidental ones, so that the face be not seamed or scarred.

‘I will also cleanse and preserve your teeth white and round as pearls, fastening them that are loose: your gums shall be kept entire, as red as coral; your lips of the same colour, and soft as you could wish your lawful kisses.

‘I will likewise administer that which shall cure the worst of breaths, provided the lungs be not totally perished and imposthumated; as also certain and infallible remedies for those whose breaths are yet untainted; so that nothing but either a very long sickness, or old age itself, shall ever be able to spoil them.

‘I will, besides, (if it be desired) take away from their fatness who have over much, and add flesh to those that want it, without the least detriment to their constitutions.’

By his plausible manners and good address, he soon gathered round him a large clientèle of servants, etc., for he told fortunes as well as cured diseases. These told their mistresses, and they too came to consult the wise man. Even the Court ladies came incognito to see him, and la belle Jennings, sister to the famous Sarah, first Duchess of Marlborough, went, with the beautiful Miss Price, to have their fortunes told, disguised as orange-wenches, and in all probability their visit would never have been heard of, had they not met with a disagreeable adventure with a somewhat dissolute gentleman named Brounker, who was gentleman of the chamber to the Duke of York, and brother to Viscount Brounker, President of the Royal Society.

John Cotgrave87 thus describes the quack of his time:

‘My name is Pulse-feel, a poor Doctor of Physick,That does wear three pile Velvet in his Hat,Has paid a quarter’s Rent of his house before-hand,And (simple as he stands here) was made Doctor beyond sea.I vow, as I am Right worshipful, the takingOf my Degree cost me twelve French Crowns, andThirty-five pounds of Butter in upper Germany.I can make your beauty and preserve it,Rectifie your body and maintaine it,Clarifie your blood, surfle88 your cheeks, perfumeYour skin, tinct your hair, enliven your eye,Heighten your Appetite; and, as for Jellies,Dentifrizes, Dyets, Minerals, Fucusses,89Pomatums, Fumes, Italia Masks to sleep in,Either to moisten or dry the superficies, Paugh, GalenWas a Goose, and Paracelsus a patchTo Doctor Pulse-feel.’

Then there was that arch quack and empiric, Sir Kenelm Digby, with his ‘sympathetic powder,’ etc., and Dr. Saffold, originally a weaver, who distributed his handbills broadcast, advertising his ability to cure every disease under the sun.

Also in this century is a poem called ‘The Dispensary,’90 by Sir Samuel Garth, who lived in Queen Anne’s time, which gives the following account of a quack and his surroundings:

‘So truly Horoscope its Virtues knows,To this bright Idol91 ’tis, alone, he bows;And fancies that a Thousand Pound suppliesThe want of twenty Thousand Qualities.Long has he been of that amphibious Fry,Bold to prescribe, and busie to apply.His Shop the gazing Vulgar’s Eyes employsWith foreign Trinkets, and domestick Toys.Here Mummies lay, most reverently stale,And there, the Tortois hung her Coat o’ Mail;Not far from some huge Shark’s devouring Head,The flying Fish their finny Pinions spread.Aloft in rows large Poppy Heads were strung,And near, a scaly Alligator hung.In this place, Drugs in Musty heaps decay’d,In that, dry’d Bladders, and drawn Teeth were laid.An inner Room receives the numerous ShoalsOf such as pay to be reputed Fools.Globes stand by Globes, Volumns on Volumns lie,And Planitary Schemes amuse the eyeThe Sage, in Velvet Chair, here lolls at ease,To promise future Health for present Fees.Then, as from Tripod, solemn shams reveals,And what the Stars know nothing of, reveals.’

Medicine in the last century was very crude. Bleeding and purging were matters of course; but some of the remedies in the pharmacopœia were very curious. Happy the patient who knew not the composition of his dose. Take the following:92

‘Or sometimes a quarter of a pint of the following decoction may be drank alone four times a day:

‘Take a fresh viper, freed from the head, skin, and intestines, cut in pieces; candied eryngo root, sliced, two ounces. Boil them gently in three pints of water, to a pint and three-quarters, and to the strained liquor add simple and spiritous cinnamon waters, of each two ounces. Mix them together, to be taken as above directed.

‘The following viper broth (taken from the London Dispensatory) is a very nutritious and proper restorative food in this case, and seems to be one of the best preparations of the viper: for all the benefit that can be expected from that animal is by this means obtained:

‘Take a middle-sized viper, freed from head, skin, and intestines; and two pints of water. Boil them to a pint and a half; then remove the vessel from the fire; and when the liquor is grown cold, let the fat, which congeals upon the surface, if the viper was fresh, be taken off. Into this broth, whilst warm, put a pullet of a moderate size, drawn and freed from the skin, and all the fat, but with the flesh intire. Set the vessel on the fire again, that the liquor may boil; then remove it from the fire, take out the chicken, and immediately chop its flesh into little pieces: put these into the liquor again, set it over the fire, and as soon as it boils up, pour out the broth, first carefully taking off the scum.

‘Of this broth let the patient take half a pint every morning, at two of the clock in the afternoon, and at supper-time.’

In the same book, also (p. 97), we find the following remedy for cancer:

‘Dr. Heister, professor of physic and surgery in the university of Helmstadt in Germany, with many others, greatly extols the virtue of millepedes, or wood-lice, in this case; and, perhaps, the best way of administering them is as follows:

‘Take of live wood-lice, one ounce; fine sugar, two drams; a little powder of nutmeg; and half a pint of alexeterial water. Let the wood-lice and sugar, with the nutmeg, be ground together in a marble mortar, then gradually add the water, which being well mixed, strain it with hard pressing. Two ounces of this expression are to be taken twice a day, shaking the vessel, so that no part of it may be lost.’

And it also seems that much virtue was attached to the great number of component parts in a medicine, as may be seen in the recipe for Arquebusade Water93 (from the same book, p. 101).

‘Take of comfrey leaves and root, sage, mugwort, bugloss, each four handfulls; betony, sanicle, ox-eye daisy, common daisy, greater figwort, plantane, agrimony, vervain, wormwood, fennel, each two handfulls; St. John’s wort, long birthwort, orpine, veronica, lesser centaury, milfoil, tobacco, mouse-ear, mint, hyssop, each one handfull; wine twenty-four pounds. Having cut and bruised the herbs, pour on them the wine, and let them stand together, in digestion, in horse dung, or any other equivalent heat, for three days: afterwards distill in an alembic with a moderate fire.

‘This celebrated water has for some time been held in great esteem, in contusions, for resolving coagulated blood, discussing the tumors that arise on fractures and dislocations, for preventing the progress of gangrenes, and cleansing and healing ulcers and wounds, particularly gunshot wounds…’

Amongst the empyrical medicines, the following is much cried up by many people, as an infallible remedy:

‘Take two ounces of the worts that grow dangling to the hinder heels of a stone horse,94 wash them in common water, then infuse them in white wine all night, and afterwards let them be dried, and reduced to powder. The dose is half a dram twice a day, in any proper vehicle. A dram of Venice soap given twice a day, either in pills, or dissolved in some proper liquor, is likewise said to cure a Cancer.’

In the early part of the eighteenth century, the regular physicians were very ignorant. Ward95 thus describes them, and, although his language was coarse, he was a keen observer.

‘They rail mightily in their Writings against the ignorance of Quacks and Mountebanks, yet, for the sake of Lucre, they Licence all the Cozening Pretenders about Town, or they could not Practise; which shows it is by their Toleration that the People are Cheated out of their Lives and Money; and yet they think themselves so Honest, as to be no ways answerable for this Publick Injury; as if they could not kill People fast enough themselves, but must depute all the Knaves in the Town to be Death’s Journeymen. Thus do they License what they ought carefully to Suppress; and Practise themselves what they Blame and Condemn in others; And that the Town may not be deceived by Apothecaries, they have made themselves Medicine-Mongers,96 under a pretence of serving the Publick with more faithful preparations; in order to perswade the World to a belief of which, they have publish’d Bills, where, in the true Quack’s Dialect, they tell you the Poor shall be supply’d for nothing; but whoever is so Needy as to make a Challenge of their promise empty-handed, will find, according to the Mountebank’s saying, No Money, No Cure. The disposal of their Medicines they leave to a Boy’s management, who scarce knows Mercurius Dulcis from White Sugar, or Mint Water from Aqua Fortis: So that People are likely to be well serv’d, or Prescriptions truly observed by such an Agent.’