Part 27

By advertisements of various kinds, and by a number of startling cures, Ward attained astonishing success. George II. had unbounded faith in him. At his first interview with the King the latter had a dislocated thumb. Ward gave it a sharp wrench which incited some strong German from the monarch, but which put the thumb right. Subsequently George provided the quack with a room in his almonry at Whitehall, and paid him to treat poor people there. Ward bought besides three houses at Pimlico and converted them into a hospital where his remedies were administered, highborn ladies assisting in the conduct of this charity. His patients included Lord Chesterfield, Gibbon the historian, and Fielding the novelist, as well as a large number of titled persons of less permanent fame, and when he brought an action for libel against the Grub Street Journal (which, however, he failed in) Reynolds, the Lord Chief Baron, and Horace Walpole were among his witnesses. In 1748 a Bill was introduced into Parliament to restrict the practice of medicine, and it contained a clause specially exempting Ward by name from its penalties.

Naturally the qualified members of the medical profession were irritated at the amazing prosperity of this charlatan. Queen Caroline, it was said, once asked General Churchill if it was true that Ward’s medicines had made a man mad. “Yes, Madam,” Churchill replied, “Mead.” Dr. Richard Mead was the King’s physician.

Ward retained his fame to the end of his life, and the King’s liberality made it possible to publish a collection of his recipes which his old friend John Page compiled after his death. But George’s tenderness to the memory of the great physic-monger did not go to the extent of fulfilling the desire expressed in his will, that he should be buried in Westminster Abbey, in front of the altar, or as near thereto as possible.

The story of Ward’s treatment of George II.’s thumb is thus told by Dr. George Henning in a note to Dr. Martin Listers “Journey to Paris” (this Vol., page 181): “George II being afflicted with a violent pain of the thumb which had baffled the skill of the faculty, sent for the noted Dr. Joshua Ward; who, having ascertained the nature of the complaint before he was admitted, provided himself with a suitable nostrum which he concealed in the hollow of his hand. On being introduced he requested permission to examine the affected part, and gave it so sudden a wrench that the King cursed him and kicked his shins. Ward bore this very patiently and when the King was cool respectfully asked him to move his thumb, which he did easily and found the pain gone.” In reply to the King’s offer to do something for him Ward diplomatically replied that the pleasure of serving his Majesty was quite sufficient reward, but he would be grateful if the King would do something for a nephew. The nephew was made an ensign in the Guards and Ward himself was presented with a carriage and pair of horses.

In the Daily Advertiser of June 10th, 1736, a report is published of an attendance at the court at Kensington by the Queen’s appointment of Joshua Ward, Esq., with eight or ten persons who in extraordinary cases had received great benefit by taking his remedies. Her Majesty was accompanied by three surgeons and several persons of quality, the patients were examined, money was distributed to them, and Mr. Ward was congratulated on his success.

In Lord John Hervey’s “Memoirs of the Reign of George II” that eminent courtier (Pope’s “Lord Fanny”) relates that he gave Ward’s Pills to the Princess Caroline for rheumatic pains, and he remarks of them “an excellent medicine not only in rheumatics, but in several cases, which for being so all the physicians and surgeons endeavoured to decry.”

Ward is referred to in the newspapers of the day as “Spot Ward.” The nickname was acquired in consequence of a claret mark on one side of his face. Pope refers to him in the lines:

Of late, without the least pretence to skill, Ward’s grown a famed physician by a pill.

Ward bequeathed his book of secret formulas to his faithful friend and helper in his earlier troubles, John Page, M.P. Mr. Page was a wealthy man, and he decided to publish the recipes of those remedies which were most esteemed for “the noblest of all purposes, the common good of mankind.” So he states in introducing the pamphlet. But a difficulty occurred in respect of these formulas. They did not in all cases represent the medicines which the public had become accustomed to. They had been made for Ward by a Mr. John White, a manufacturing chemist of Twickenham, and a Mr. F. J. D’Osterman, who was probably an apothecary, and those two manufacturers alone knew the exact modifications which had been made in the preparations. In these circumstances the King (George II) consented in his “most benevolent disposition and extensive bounty” to make ample provision for these chemists. Whereupon the “Book of Secrets” was published. A depot for selling them was established, and a moderate tariff fixed at which those compounded by the chemists already named could be obtained, though, of course, anybody was at liberty to make similar preparations. Mr. Page provided that profits after paying expenses should be divided between an Orphan Asylum and a Magdalen Institution.

The following are the recipes for the fistula or pile paste and for the headache essence, both of which, being adopted in the Pharmacopœia, have some historic interest:--

Paste for the Fistula: Elecampane root, 1 lb.; fennel seeds, 3 lb.; black pepper, 1 lb. All in fine powder, mixed and sifted. Melt together 2 lb. each of honey and white sugar, and when this mixture is cool knead into it the prescribed powders. The dose was a piece the size of a nutmeg, to be taken morning, noon, and night, followed by a glass of water or white wine.

Essence for the Headache, etc.: French spirit of wine, 2 lb.; Roch alum in fine powder, 2 oz.; camphor, cut small, 4 oz.; essence of lemon, ½ oz.; strongest volatile spirit of sal ammoniac, 4 oz. A little of this essence was to be rubbed on the hand, and the hand was to be held hard to the part affected until it was dry. Ward told Mr. Page that it was this application which had cured George II’s thumb.

In a lecture on Hæmorrhoids delivered by Sir Benjamin Brodie at St. Georges Hospital, and reported in the London Medical Gazette, February 3, 1835, that eminent practitioner stated that he had often found the Confectio Piperis Co. (“similar to what was once very celebrated as Ward’s Paste”) successful when other simple expedients failed. He said it was rather disagreeable to take, tasted like a coarse gingerbread, and must be persevered in for a considerable time. He stated that one of the worst cases he ever knew was that of a lady who had consulted him, and he did not think it possible to cure her without an operation. She, however, was obliged to go into the country at the time, and as the operation must be delayed for a month at least, he recommended her to try Ward’s Paste meanwhile. She came back to him six or eight weeks later quite cured. He thought the remedy acted by passing into the colon and, becoming blended with the faeces, served as a local application.

THE WHITWORTH DOCTORS

are almost forgotten now, but a century ago they were famous all over England. The Whitworth red bottle and the Whitworth drops are still more or less popular reminiscences of their pharmacy. The former was an embrocation, and the second an antispasmodic tincture. Both contained oil of thyme. Formulas are given in “Pharmaceutical Formulas,” published at 42, Cannon Street.

The founder of the family of the Whitworth Doctors was John Taylor, originally a farrier, of Whitworth, then a village about three miles from Rochdale. He died in 1802 at the age of sixty-two. John Taylor had a younger brother and two sons, and the younger brother also had sons, all of whom practised surgery. A third and even a fourth generation of surgeons, some of whom were fully qualified, likewise practised at Whitworth, and the last of the race died in 1876.

The original brothers Taylor were both farriers, but they became famous for their treatment of human patients. Their methods were of the most vigorous character. They were in the habit of buying a ton of Glauber’s salts from their wholesale druggists, Ewbank and Wallis, of York, and they dispensed it to those who sought their medical advice with no niggard hands, and without any formality of weighing. The two brothers provided free bleeding for poor patients every Sunday morning, and something like a hundred victims attended for this operation.

John Taylor (the original “Doctor”) never discontinued his treatment of horse complaints, and was believed to have taken more pride and pleasure in his veterinary work than in his dealings with humans. But the latter flocked to him from all parts of the country. Cancers, improperly set fractures, and deformities were his specialities, but his practice gradually extended to all kinds of ills. A crowd of rich and poor patients had to find lodgings somehow in the village, for they sometimes had to stay for weeks there. Fifty at a time could be seated in the long room where John treated them. They came in at one end of the room and went out at the other, and no one, no matter what his rank, was allowed to have the slightest preference. Eighteen-pence a week for medicine and treatment was the charge to all, and those who could not afford that fee were never asked for it. A lord drove up in his carriage one day, and the powdered footman was sent to ask John Taylor to “wait upon his lordship.” “Tell the man he must come in here and take his turn like the rest, if he wants me to wait on him,” said John; and “the man” had to do so. It is recorded that he left Whitworth cured.

The other doctors used to tell of Taylor’s failures; but as his cases were mostly those which they had pronounced incurable, it is not astonishing if he did not always succeed. But he effected many notable cures. A lady with a cancer in the breast who had been given up by her own doctors came from a hundred miles away to Whitworth. John examined the breast, and then said, “What art thou come here for, woman?” “To be cured, of course,” she answered. “Not all the doctors in England can cure thee,” he said sternly; “thou must go home and die.” “I shall not go home,” said the lady, “till you have tried your hand on me. I can bear any pain you inflict, and I can only die at last.” “Thou art a brave lass,” said John; “I will try, and God prosper us.” The lady stayed at Whitworth six months, and went home cured. She lived thirty years longer.

This lady was well known to William Howitt, a Quaker and popular writer in the first half of the nineteenth century. In an article he wrote in Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine, 1839, Mr. Howitt relates recollections of a visit he had paid to Whitworth some twenty years previously, and from that visit, and from the conversations he had had with the lady just referred to, he had gathered the particulars which he gave in his article.

While under the care of Doctor John at Whitworth the lady told Mr. Howitt how she occupied herself in assisting “Mrs. George,” old John’s daughter-in-law, to prepare the medicines. Glauber’s salts were principally relied upon for internal administration. A caustic known as “keen” was used for eradicating cancers; a black salve made up into sticks; a snuff made from asarabacca leaves which he grew in his garden; blisters; and the Red Bottle, made up the medicinal armoury. The last is made still in Lancashire, thus: Camphor, 6; oil of origanum, 6; Anchusa root, 1; methylated spirit, 80.

The lady’s account of the preparation of the salve was that they used to boil a kettleful of ingredients, and then they would mop the kitchen floor. While it was wet they would pour the salve on it, and then scraping it up they would roll it into sticks with their fingers, and cut it into little pieces.

Howitt also describes seeing James Taylor, the head of the family, when he visited Whitworth, making his pills. In an old hat slung in front of him by a cord round his neck was his pill mass. Thus armed, he would walk up and down in front of his house nipping off bits of the mass and rolling them into pills with his fingers as he walked.

In his later years John Taylor sometimes visited patients in distant places. Once he went to attend a duchess at Cheltenham. She had an abscess which he opened and so relieved her at once. George III was staying at Cheltenham at the time, and heard of this skilful man. Later he sent for him to come to London to treat the Princess Elizabeth, who had pains in her head with fits of stupor. John is said to have cured her with his snuff. Having prescribed this and provided the patient with some, John Taylor turned to Queen Charlotte, who with her other daughters was in the room, and patting her on the back, said: “Well, thou art a farrantly (good-looking) woman to be the mother of all these straight-backed lasses.” “Ah, Mr. Taylor,” said the Queen, “I was once as straight-backed as any of them.” John’s son James was fond of telling this story.

Thurlow, Bishop of Durham, brother of Lord Chancellor Thurlow, was one of his patients, and John was once sent for to London to attend him. More than one eminent physician was in the room when Taylor arrived. “I won’t say a word till Jack Hunter is here,” said Dr. John; “he is the only man among you who knows anything.” Jack Hunter was the famous anatomist. When he was present, Taylor proceeded to examine the Bishop, and was applying some ointment from a box he had with him. “What’s that made of?” asked Hunter. “No, Jack, that’s not a fair question,” was Taylor’s reply. “I’ll send you as much of it as you like, but I won’t tell you what it’s made of.”

XXII

POISONS IN HISTORY

“To give an exact and particular account of the Nature and Manner of acting of Poisons is no easy matter; but to Discourse more intelligibly of them than authors have hitherto done, not very difficult.” (From Dr. Richard Mead’s Preface to his “Essays on Poisons,” 1702.)