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Grading Sir Hans Sloane’s Research Paper

It’s that time of year when grading is on an academic’s mind. With first-year assignments still fresh in my head, I recently found myself frustrated by Sir Hans Sloane’s “Account of Symptoms arising from eating the Seeds of Henbane” (Philosophical Transactions, volume 38, 1733-4).

Letters by Sir Hans rarely feature on this blog—and that’s for a good reason: there aren’t very many by him in his correspondence collection. But he did, occasionally, send in reports to the Royal Society… some of which were better than others. I love reading the early eighteenth-century Philosophical Transactions; many of the authors knew how to tell a cracking story, with a clear narrative arc of event, evidence and interpretation.

Not so much this offering from Sloane.

Filberts. Credit: Agnieszka Kwiecień, Wikimedia Commons.

Filberts. Credit: Agnieszka Kwiecień, Wikimedia Commons.

Sloane’s account began in 1729 when “a Person came to consult me on an Accident, that befell four of his Children, aged from four Years and a half, to thirteen Years and a half”. The children decided to have a foraged snack from the fields by St. Pancras Church, thinking that the seeds they’d found were tasty filberts. But foraging can be a risky business and the children took ill. Their symptoms included great thirst, dizziness, blurred vision, delirium and sleepiness. For Sloane, the symptoms suggested henbane poisoning; Sloane’s initial diagnosis was reinforced after examining the seeds that the father had brought in to show him. Sloane prescribed bleeding, blistering at multiple points, and purging at both ends: “And by this Method they perfectly recovered.”

This could have made for a solid medical case study: who better to bring together clinical observation with botanical detective work? But for Sloane, the real story was the seeds rather than his diagnostic prowess. I withheld judgement. At this point, I was curious to see where Sloane, the narrator, would take his readers.

Four poisonous plants: hemlock (Conium maculatum), henbane (Hyoscyamus niger), opium lettuce (Lactuca virosa) and autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale). Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

Four poisonous plants: hemlock (Conium maculatum), henbane (Hyoscyamus niger), opium lettuce (Lactuca virosa) and autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale). Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

Sloane went on to describe how the symptoms of delirium can offered important clues. Henbane delirium was very different from regular fevered delirium, but had much in common to the delirium caused by datura (“a species of stramonium”) and bang of East-India (“a sort of hemp”–indeed). Unfortunately for the reader, he did not describe any of these forms of delirium.

He then noted that the delirium from all three herbs was different from that “caused by the rubbing with a certain Ointment made use of by Witches (according to Lacuna, in his Version and Comments upon Dioscorides)”. The witches’ ointment instead would “throw the Persons into deep Sleep, and make them dream so strongly of being carried in the Air to distant Places, and there meeting with others of their diabolical Fraternity; that when they awake they actually believe, and have confess’d, that they have performed such extravagent Actions.”

I see. From faux-filberts to witches’ ointment in four easy steps…

A sculpture of a man with toothache. Wood engraving after Mr. Anderson. Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

A sculpture of a man with toothache. Wood engraving after Mr. Anderson. Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

Henbane wasn’t all bad, though. Sloane recounted, for example, that several years before, a “Person of Quality tormented with this racking Pain [of tooth-ache]” was treated by an empiric who used henbane. The sufferer was desperate—“his Anguish obliging him to submit to any Method of procuring Ease”—and he allowed the empiric to funnel smoke into the tooth’s hollow before (allegedly) removing tooth-worms. If this case sounds familiar to regular readers, it should be. Sloane procured one of the maggots from the sufferer, then sent it to Leeuwenhoek who examined it in detail and found it to be an ordinary cheese worm rather than a so-called tooth-worm.

Although Sloane knew that the wormy tale was fake, he pointed out that “upon the whole”, the henbane would have offered pain relief. And in any case, presumably, a good tale about tooth-worms bears repeating. Sloane also took the chance in his conclusion to make a dig at empirics who, through “slight of Hand” acquired a reputation for their remedies’ success, “which from the Prescription of an honest Physician would be taken little Notice of.”

So ends the account

****

Essay Comments

Sir Hans,

There is much of interest in this paper: your medical cases on henbane and tooth-worms are intriguing and your ability to identify both seeds and poisoning is impressive. I also appreciate the historical perspective that you bring to this study with your discussion of witch ointments.

However, there are a few ways in which this essay could be strengthened. The essay lacks analysis as you move quickly between subjects–a recent case, types of delirium caused by different seeds, and an old case. These are all fascinating issues in their own right, but you lapse into storytelling with each instance without ever going into detail about their significance. For example, in the middle section, you aim to connect different seeds to different types of delirium, but you never provide any discussion about the specifics (apart from the witches’ delirium): how did the childrens’ delirium present? What does delirium caused by bhang or datura look like? In what ways are each of these similar or different? This would help the reader to understand your thought process in diagnosing the patients and in identifying poisons.

It is also worth more carefully considering the title you’ve chosen: “An Account of Symptoms arising from eating the Seeds of Henbane”. A good title should reflect the content of the essay. However, only the first section of your paper considers symptoms actually caused by eating henbane seeds. The second section is potentially related, but needed to be more closely linked to make the connection clear; this would have been done to good effect by comparing the specifics of each drug and their symptoms to the case of henbane poisoning you introduced. The third section is only tangentially related—although you discuss a medical case and henbane is involved, you consider henbane’s therapeutic qualities rather than symptoms arising from its use. You could usefully have omitted the case in its current state, particularly since the section focuses on making value judgements about empirics and examining tooth-worms. That said, if you really do think it necessary to keep the section, you needed to consider henbane’s effects in more detail. Even more crucially, you might consider changing the title: “An Account of the Effects of Henbane” would have neatly pulled the three strands together in a more coherent fashion.

This essay has the potential to be a wonderful example of your diagnostic and botanical mastery, especially if you took more time to consider the narrative arc. Rather than scattering your energies by telling several stories (henbane, witches or tooth-worms), focus instead on one strand. Don’t be afraid to toot your own horn by showing off what you know and how you know it, instead of just sharing a collection of interesting tidbits.

So what grade should we give it…?

Letter 0767

Richard Richardson to Hans Sloane – August 22, 1702


Item info

Date: August 22, 1702
Author: Richard Richardson
Recipient: Hans Sloane

Library: British Library, London
Manuscript: Sloane MS 4039
Folio: f. 16



Original Page



Transcription

[fol. 16] Deare Sir/ Having made as good a collection of specimens of our northern plants as my occasions this yeare wil allowe of, I tooke the freedome to send you them by John Alkison a Branford carrier who wil safly brnig them to you along with them you wil finde a bundle directed for Mr Buddle of which I have given him notice you wil fnide in your bundle some of the stones I formerly gave you an account of having nothing else at present by me worth sending But I can not omitt relating to you the case of a certaine Lady of this Country; who benig about fower months gon with child fel into the pains of Laboure the having had several times before the misfortune to miscary was apprehensive of the wel went she was let blood twice benig of a plethorick constitution & astruigeul & Anodine medicins prescribed & what else might be thought convi[…] for her, but they did not answer the designd end for about three days after the first invasion of her paine she miscaryed, I not then being with her the Abortion was preservd in water till I came, which was some houres after, upon the first appearance I tooke it to be a Mola it was of an oval figure, & about the size of a Hens egg but being desirouse to open it I tooke it out of the water & pressing upon it with my finger it seemd to be harder than any thing I could ecpect of that kind, having cut it open not without some difficulty, I found in it a small quantity of pellucid water & an embrio as wel formd as could be expected for that time the membrane that invested it was single & of a darke red coloure without & white within& perfectly Cartalayinvouse very much resembling the hind part of the brest of a young fowle but harder & as thick. This I opened in the (pre)sence of Francis Lnidley Esqr my nerighboure whose relation it was that bore it (covered) the delivery her genre something ebated but was still very uneasy, the morning after she parted with a Cishs something larger then the first of the same forme & hardness but larger & open at one end. The Lady is now very wel it being about five weeks since this happened; it was never my fortune before to meeyt with the membrane investing the fetus Cartalayinvouse nor have I ever in any Author met with any parallel case this being to me tre Irigulare (though perhaps otherwise to you) that I though it would be a crime in me not to communicate it to a person of your learning & curiosity & hope you wil pardon my freedome in Worthy Sir your very much obliged servant Ric: Richardson North Bierly Aug: 22 702

Richardson was a physician and botanist who traveled widely in England, Wales, and Scotland in search of rare specimens. He corresponded and exchanged plants with many well-known botanists and naturalists (W. P. Courtney, Richardson, Richard (16631741), rev. Peter Davis, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, May 2010 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/23576, accessed 31 May 2011]).




Patient Details

  • Patient info
    Name: N/A Unnamed Baby
    Gender:
    Age:A fetus, 7 months old.
  • Description

    The fetus was preserved in water for Richardson. When he first saw it, he thought it was a mola. It was oval and much harder than he expected when pressed with a finger. He cut the outside membrane open with some difficulty, finding inside pellucid water and an embryo as well-formed as expected at this stage. The membrane surrounding the baby was red on the outside, and white within. It was cartiligious in structure.

  • Diagnosis
  • Treatment
    Previous Treatment:
    Ongoing Treatment:
    Response:
  • More information
  • Medical problem reference
    Childbirth, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Childbirth

Letter 0765

Richard Richardson to Hans Sloane – August 22, 1702


Item info

Date: August 22, 1702
Author: Richard Richardson
Recipient: Hans Sloane

Library: British Library, London
Manuscript: Sloane MS 4039
Folio: f. 16



Original Page



Transcription

[fol. 16] Deare Sir/ Having made as good a collection of specimens of our northern plants as my occasions this yeare wil allowe of, I tooke the freedome to send you them by John Alkison a Branford carrier who wil safly brnig them to you along with them you wil finde a bundle directed for Mr Buddle of which I have given him notice you wil fnide in your bundle some of the stones I formerly gave you an account of having nothing else at present by me worth sending But I can not omitt relating to you the case of a certaine Lady of this Country; who benig about fower months gon with child fel into the pains of Laboure the having had several times before the misfortune to miscary was apprehensive of the wel went she was let blood twice benig of a plethorick constitution & astruigeul & Anodine medicins prescribed & what else might be thought convi[…] for her, but they did not answer the designd end for about three days after the first invasion of her paine she miscaryed, I not then being with her the Abortion was preservd in water till I came, which was some houres after, upon the first appearance I tooke it to be a Mola it was of an oval figure, & about the size of a Hens egg but being desirouse to open it I tooke it out of the water & pressing upon it with my finger it seemd to be harder than any thing I could ecpect of that kind, having cut it open not without some difficulty, I found in it a small quantity of pellucid water & an embrio as wel formd as could be expected for that time the membrane that invested it was single & of a darke red coloure without & white within& perfectly Cartalayinvouse very much resembling the hind part of the brest of a young fowle but harder & as thick. This I opened in the (pre)sence of Francis Lnidley Esqr my nerighboure whose relation it was that bore it (covered) the delivery her genre something ebated but was still very uneasy, the morning after she parted with a Cishs something larger then the first of the same forme & hardness but larger & open at one end. The Lady is now very wel it being about five weeks since this happened; it was never my fortune before to meeyt with the membrane investing the fetus Cartalayinvouse nor have I ever in any Author met with any parallel case this being to me tre Irigulare (though perhaps otherwise to you) that I though it would be a crime in me not to communicate it to a person of your learning & curiosity & hope you wil pardon my freedome in Worthy Sir your very much obliged servant Ric: Richardson North Bierly Aug: 22 702

Richardson was a physician and botanist who traveled widely in England, Wales, and Scotland in search of rare specimens. He corresponded and exchanged plants with many well-known botanists and naturalists (W. P. Courtney, Richardson, Richard (16631741), rev. Peter Davis, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, May 2010 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/23576, accessed 31 May 2011]).




Patient Details

  • Patient info
    Name: N/A Unnamed (Woman)
    Gender:
    Age:A fetus, 7 months old.
  • Description

    The fetus was preserved in water for Richardson. When he first saw it, he thought it was a mola. It was oval and much harder than he expected when pressed with a finger. He cut the outside membrane open with some difficulty, finding inside pellucid water and an embryo as well-formed as expected at this stage. The membrane surrounding the baby was red on the outside, and white within. It was cartiligious in structure.

  • Diagnosis
  • Treatment
    Previous Treatment:
    Ongoing Treatment:
    Response:
  • More information
  • Medical problem reference
    Childbirth, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Childbirth

Letter 2688

William Sherard to Hans Sloane – May 16, 1698


Item info

Date: May 16, 1698
Author: William Sherard
Recipient: Hans Sloane

Library: British Library, London
Manuscript: Sloane MS 4037
Folio: ff. 75-76



Original Page



Transcription

[fol. 75] Sr. I did not think to have troubled you two papts together but reciving ye inclosed from Sig.re Spolati thought fit to jind it under this cover. I have sent from this place a small sale of books, wch I hope will be in Engld in less than three months; there are amongst them sevrall of yr Catalogue & some of Cap’t Hattons; you may be pleased to take what you like, as also of those sent from Hamburg, giving my Brother a note of them & dispose of ye rest as you think fit. there is descrithine di Malta di Franessco Ahela, wch I have long sought after; ‘twas sold in Holld in westrares awhin for 85 gidrs vendor As had one ye last time I pass’d that way, but soud not let me have it under go. I have found Bellunsasis de Linerniks, has too Cata to kind you’ll find Barthol Ambrosini Parmlipomensed Hist. Animaluiu Aldrovandi fol. Bonon 1657 wch wth ye other peice you have of Ovid manhalbances makes Aidrovandi open compleat. they are 2 peices I shall scarce find again I have bought severall small traits de Balmais & wch perhaps tho not in Catalogue, you may want to perfait yr collections. here are severall hundreds of med trifles, wch I believe are not so much mentioned in Catalogues; if you was hereft Alf you would find some to yr mind. if you please to send me a further note of what you want in Physick or Voyages [fol. 75v] in I talieu or Spamth, wn I come to Rome, I shall have more time to hunt after these as also here next Carnwvall. I think I sent you word this day scunight of Padre Fabiggi’s Prosopo-peice Botanicae in versa dedicated to Rivins. I have found you vaslingy Gyunasuin Patavinum ye Biblio Ilieiu Hyspanica Vetus An-tonis if in folio is my Ld Townshends, as also ye first vol. printed last agt 2 years since, if that be it you mean let me know & Ile buy you one at Rome, where they were printed. the Giornali de Litterati of Parma are se dear, that I have let them alone, in hopes to have them cheaper there, some other books also of Capt. Hattons Catalogue are here to be found, but I dare not meddle wth them. the Oroficaris of Callins is dear beinf brought up by ye Godsmiths, but for fear of not meeting it again I have sent it, if I meet wth another Ile not leave it behind. I shall send to Engld by a friend next week a curious parcel of seeds gathered in ye Levant wth their Arabick names, another from ye Morea & some from Syri, most of wch are growing here; my Brother will also receive a parcel sent by ye Prince of Cattolica, by a vessel from Legorn. I have bought P. Della Valla in 4lo in 4 tomas qt Ml Bataman had of me was but 3 ye 4lb is mentioned in ye the page of ye first & is printed tho perhaps not known in Egld. if you send me a Catalogue of some books scarce in Egld such as Ennuis cu notis Polumnd & twoud be worth while to look after them. I have sent 3 Galeria di Mineria, you’ll find some things in it not to be met elsewhere, it sels very well & will be continued [fol. 76] Be pleased to give my humble servoce to Sr. John Hoskins, wth ye following acct. to his three quines. 1.ye our last Books of ye 4th volume of seam mozzi were never printed, nor to be found amongst his papers. 2.Concerning ye chimneys at Venice, it woud be necessary to send a draught of one to explain it have, wch if desired Ile get done. they are all built round onye out side; at about a foot distance from ye top, are a row of bricks sett and ways, wth ^open^ spaces of a bricks thickness between them open to lett out ye smoke; above they are built as below ye holes, this is all concerns ye side. on ye out side is built a kind of a shell in shape of a large flower pot, wch seams to stand on ye tops of their chimneys. its (crossed out)^basis on a row of bricks, for that purpose, standing out of the chimney at ye distance of half a foot each, on these it rests as on its basis, betwixt them are so many spiracula for ye smoke; tis carried up half a foot or better above ye main body of ye chimney, narrow at bottom & wide a top ye reason of its being built higher then ye main body of the chimney is to defend ye loose pan-tiles, wch cover ye funnel of ye chimney from being carried away by ye wind. these tiles lie loose, & are constantly taken of, when they sweap their chimneys. by these ye gusts of wind (wch here they are much expos’d to) are broke, so yt they cannot drive ye smoke down ye chimney into their rooms, what it dos drive back, or rather, what it hinders from coming out at ye top, is finds a passage at ye holes of ye Basis of ye space also betwixt ye main body of ye chimney & ye (crossed out) shall, on wch they rest. 3.ye Currance wine is made of ye grapes wch on a third dry, wch makes it luscious & thick as well as strong. they putt no water to that they (ripped) whats drank in ye Iland is made of fresh grapes, & [fol. 76v] mixt with a certain proportion of water, as ye Garbo is here at Venice but for further information concerning this or other things at Zant, I referr him to my very good friend Mr Portine whom I met here in his road home, & by whom I send ye seeds above mentioned. you’ll find in ye Bale of books from Humb.t. Francisci Arisoti de oleo montis Zibinis hiber, put out by Dr Oligcus; Dr Ramazzini is publishing of it wth notes & observations you may expect it wth ye rest of his works (some of wch you had of me) by ye next occasion. Mr Ludolf, whom I suppose you know, is here looking after travellers yt have sent a voyage in folio of Congo matamba & Angola by father Giov Antonio Cavarra da Montacuccolo, printed at Bologna 1687. I don’t know whether you have seen it or no excuse this rhapsody & Ile trouble no more also some time I am Venice May 16th 1698 Sr Mr Cortine will lody at his linckle dan strangers yr very obliged Servant [folio ripped]

Sherard has sent a bale of books to England, which should be there in three months and includes several catalogues. He tells Sloane to take what he likes. The same goes for the books sent from Hamburg. Sherard asks Sloane to give his humble service to Sir John Hoskins, and to answers the latter’s questions concerning Venetian chimneys, wine, and the volumes of a certain book.

Sherard was a botanist and cataloguer. He worked for the Turkish Company at Smyrna where he collected botanical specimens and antiques (D. E. Allen, Sherard, William (16591728), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, Jan 2008 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/25355, accessed 24 June 2011]).




Patient Details

The Back-to-School Edition: Cesque 97

Welcome to the pre-modern blog carnival, Carnivalesque 97! Hosting the carnival has proved a welcome distraction from the busy-ness of a new academic year. It’s given me a great excuse to keep up with my blog reading.

The view from my office at the University of Saskatchewan.

The view from my office at the University of Saskatchewan.

In late summer, the pre-modernist’s mind lightly turns to thoughts of love (and sex and reproduction). Joanne Bailey has a fascinating two-part discussion on the significance of marital beds: “The bed and the emotional landscape of the household” and “Beds, marital sex and adultery“. Beds were at the heart of the household and had many practical and symbolic functions far beyond sex and sleeping. From Jennifer Evans at Early Modern Medicine, we learn about “A Very Sympathetic Husband” in 1691, who experienced the symptoms of pregnancy at the same time as his wife and how the Athenian Mercury explained it. Their marriage bed must have been particularly close. Catherine Rider at Recipes Project shares some “Medieval Fertility and Pregnancy Tests“: what, I wonder, would the sympathetic husband’s test have shown?

The Dittrick Museum Blog has an interesting series on eighteenth-century midwifery, but of particular note are the ones on material history. Brandy Schillace, for example, looks at the myths surrounding and uses of “Mystery Instruments” (forceps) in early modern childbirth. Cali Buckley considers “The Elusive Past of Ivory Anatomical Models” for understanding the anatomy of childbearing. The Chirurgeon’s Apprentice post on “Renaissance Rhinoplasty” might not seem to have much in common with sex, but rhinoplasty fulfilled a need that was directly connected to the spread of syphilis in the early modern world. Not everyone–then or now–could afford the luxury of an eighteenth-century condom, which was recently for sale at Christies

A school master is sitting at a table pointing at some books, at which a young boy is looking and attempting to explain. Etching by J. Bretherton after H.W. Bunbury, 1799. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

A school master is sitting at a table pointing at some books, at which a young boy is looking and attempting to explain. Etching by J. Bretherton after H.W. Bunbury, 1799. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

After summer days of wine and roses (or, writing and research), scholars inevitably stumble onto the misty paths of historiography and methodology. In Cesque 96, Until Darwin recommended the series on “The Future of History from Below” at The Many-headed Monster. I’ll recommend it again, as it has continued throughout the month of August with lots of exciting posts. It’s worth reading the whole series, but for the most recent medieval and early modern perspectives, see:

Several posts this month considered the ‘how to’ of studying the past. In “The Divine Rebirth of Raphael’s Madonna of the Goldfinch“, Hasan Niyazi at 3PipeProblem describes step-by-step how a painting was created, destroyed and restored. Ben Breen at Res Obscura provides a useful overview of how to read early modern texts in “Why does ‘s’ look like ‘f'”, while Eloise Lemay answers the question “what do paleographers do?“.

Andrea Cawelti at Houghton Library Blog (“Double Vision“) and Anke Timmermann (“Now you see it? No you don’t! Images in Alchemical Manuscripts“) at Recipes Project offer cautionary tales about how we interpret texts, as they wonder if what they see in their primary sources would have been meaningful to early modern readers.

A depressed scholar surrounded by mythological figures; representing the melancholy temperament. Etching by J.D. Nessenthaler after himself, c. 1750. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

A depressed scholar surrounded by mythological figures; representing the melancholy temperament. Etching by J.D. Nessenthaler after himself, c. 1750. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

As we once again hoist our book-laden bags or hunch over student essays, it is perhaps not surprising that we start to think about embodiment. Over at Hooke’s London, Felicity Henderson looks at the scientific and craft methods that Robert Hooke saw and recorded in the seventeenth century (“Artists and Craftsmen in Hooke’s London”, part 1 and part 2). In an article for The Appendix, Mark Hailwood tries to understand how seventeenth-century people would have heard drinking songs–his conclusion might surprise you! (It makes perfect sense to me. I use a football stadium version of La Marseillaise when teaching the French Revolution.) From The Cookbook of Unknown Ladies, we have a tasty experiment in cooking eighteenth-century salamagundi and lemon cheesecake.

On a more theoretical level, Sonja Boon asks us to contemplate what our bodies tell us “about the material [we] were exploring, but also about embodied knowledge”, while Serena Dyer reflects on “Experiencing the Past: Historical Re-enactment as Historical Practice“. Thought-provoking questions–just the way to start the week!

But I’ll end on a lighter note, with some interesting characters and tantalizing tidbits. Did you know that the East India Company set up an army of babies in the late eighteenth century? That there were sixteenth-century Irish Hipsters? And that the earliest known example of Latin writing by a woman was that of Claudia Severa in north England? Or let me tempt you with a “Swan Supper on the Thames“, recipes with “worm-eaten mushrooms” and the significance of “the big bad bean” in Antiquity…

Wishing you all a fine start to the new academic year! May you remain full of beans.

Two school masters are brought to the ground by a rope pulled across their path by pupils on each side of the corridor. Coloured etching by Thomas Rowlandson after himself, 1811. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

Two school masters are brought to the ground by a rope pulled across their path by pupils on each side of the corridor. Coloured etching by Thomas Rowlandson after himself, 1811. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

Cesque #98 will be held at Medieval Bex in October. Please send your nominations for the next edition here. It’s never to early to start nominating posts.

 

 

Close Call at Bloomsbury Square

By Matthew De Cloedt

Hanging Outside Newgate Prison. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

When John Ray received Hans Sloane’s letter of 6 April 1700 he could not help “but be moved with indignation”. He was livid that four “vile Rogues, who when they failed in their attempt of breaking open [Sloane’s] house… set it on fire.” Ray believed it was by God’s grace that Sloane, along with his residence at Bloomsbury Square, were not consumed by the conflagration.

The event took place on 5 April 1700 and was a close call for the Sloane family. During the night a group of three or four men snuck into Sloane’s backyard, which was backed by a field. After failing to open the back door they proceeded “by Instigation of the Devil… to set the House on Fire in several places”. They planned to force the family to evacuate the premises and “under the pretence of Friendly assistance they were to rush in and Robb the House”. Using splinters cut from the door the men set the window frames on fire, which were “of a thin and dry” board that sparked easily. The pantry window “burnt with great Violence” and all seemed to be going according to plan.

What the robbers did not count on was Elizabeth Sloane’s alertness. Smelling the smoke, she sent the servants downstairs to investigate. Upon coming to the pantry a male servant opened the door, “was almost Chok’d, with the violence of the Smoke and Flame… [and] Cry’d out Fire”. Instead of panicking the household took to action and immediately set to extinguishing the fire with water collected for washing the linens.

When the back door was opened to let the smoke out the men had already fled. The culprits had not expected the fire to be put out so efficiently and ran when they realized their plot was foiled. Luckily the neighbours had noticed a group of strange men waiting in the backyard and reported their number.

Sloane offered a reward of one-hundred pounds to anyone who could catch the arsonists, but he did not have to pay up. One of the men was arrested for another “Notorious Crime” in Westminster and, to secure his release, gave up the names of his companions. John Davis and Phillip Wake were apprehended and incarcerated at Newgate shortly thereafter.

Both men were repeat offenders and had a laundry list of previous offences. Had they been successful, it was suggested, the “Docters Family who went to Bed in peace” would have “miserably Perish’d by the merciless and devouring Flames”. For this reason Davis and Wake faced the death penalty. At the Old Bailey the man who identified his two accomplices testified against them and assured a conviction. Nothing is mentioned of Sloane participating in the trial.

On 24 May 1700 Davis and Wake, along with six others, were executed. Wake “seemed very Penitent” while Davis” seemed very much Concern’d and Dejected… They both desired all Persons to take warning by their shameful and deplorable tho’ deserved Deaths.”

Sloane and his family were lucky to survive their ordeal for, as Squire Aisle’s servant’s experience made clear, it could have unfolded in a much more unpleasant manner. Near Red-Lyon Square, where the man resided, his house was broken into, his wife murdered, and the house set ablaze, “wherein she was Burnt to Ashes”.

Had Sloane’s family been subjected to a similar fate the fire would have consumed his library and collection (not to mention the potential loss of life. It might be worth reiterating that Elizabeth Sloane’s concern alerted the rest of the household. In saving the house she not only rescued her family and servants but all of the possessions in the household. Perhaps the smoke woke her up; maybe she was having difficulty getting to sleep. Whatever the case, it might be worth considering her an important guardian of the things that would later form the collections of the British Museum and Natural History Museum.

Stay tuned for part two on the trial at the Old Bailey!

References

An Account of the apprehending and taking of John Davis and Phillip Wake for setting Dr. Sloan’s house on fire, to robb the same, with their committed to Newgate… London: Printed by J. W. in Fleet Street, 1700.

An Account of the actions, behaviours, and dying vvords, of the eight criminals, that were executed at Tyburn on Fryday the 24th of May, 1700… London: Printed by W.J. near Temple-Bar, 1700.

Both texts available at Early English Books Online: http://eebo.chadwyck.com/home

Letter 0766

Richard Richardson to Hans Sloane – August 22, 1702


Item info

Date: August 22, 1702
Author: Richard Richardson
Recipient: Hans Sloane

Library: British Library, London
Manuscript: Sloane MS 4039
Folio: f. 16



Original Page



Transcription

[fol. 16] Deare Sir/ Having made as good a collection of specimens of our northern plants as my occasions this yeare wil allowe of, I tooke the freedome to send you them by John Alkison a Branford carrier who wil safly brnig them to you along with them you wil finde a bundle directed for Mr Buddle of which I have given him notice you wil fnide in your bundle some of the stones I formerly gave you an account of having nothing else at present by me worth sending But I can not omitt relating to you the case of a certaine Lady of this Country; who benig about fower months gon with child fel into the pains of Laboure the having had several times before the misfortune to miscary was apprehensive of the wel went she was let blood twice benig of a plethorick constitution & astruigeul & Anodine medicins prescribed & what else might be thought convi[…] for her, but they did not answer the designd end for about three days after the first invasion of her paine she miscaryed, I not then being with her the Abortion was preservd in water till I came, which was some houres after, upon the first appearance I tooke it to be a Mola it was of an oval figure, & about the size of a Hens egg but being desirouse to open it I tooke it out of the water & pressing upon it with my finger it seemd to be harder than any thing I could ecpect of that kind, having cut it open not without some difficulty, I found in it a small quantity of pellucid water & an embrio as wel formd as could be expected for that time the membrane that invested it was single & of a darke red coloure without & white within& perfectly Cartalayinvouse very much resembling the hind part of the brest of a young fowle but harder & as thick. This I opened in the (pre)sence of Francis Lnidley Esqr my nerighboure whose relation it was that bore it (covered) the delivery her genre something ebated but was still very uneasy, the morning after she parted with a Cishs something larger then the first of the same forme & hardness but larger & open at one end. The Lady is now very wel it being about five weeks since this happened; it was never my fortune before to meeyt with the membrane investing the fetus Cartalayinvouse nor have I ever in any Author met with any parallel case this being to me tre Irigulare (though perhaps otherwise to you) that I though it would be a crime in me not to communicate it to a person of your learning & curiosity & hope you wil pardon my freedome in Worthy Sir your very much obliged servant Ric: Richardson North Bierly Aug: 22 702

Richardson was a physician and botanist who traveled widely in England, Wales, and Scotland in search of rare specimens. He corresponded and exchanged plants with many well-known botanists and naturalists (W. P. Courtney, Richardson, Richard (16631741), rev. Peter Davis, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, May 2010 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/23576, accessed 31 May 2011]).




Patient Details

  • Patient info
    Name: N/A Unnamed Baby
    Gender:
    Age:
  • Description

    7 months pregnant; as a 'plethorick constitution'; had miscarried several times before.

  • Diagnosis

    Fell into pains of labour for three days before miscarrying the fetus. The next morning, she parted with second, similar but larger, fetus.

  • Treatment
    Previous Treatment:

    She was bled twice.


    Ongoing Treatment:
    Response:
  • More information
  • Medical problem reference
    Childbirth, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Childbirth

Letter 0768

Richard Richardson to Hans Sloane – August 22, 1702


Item info

Date: August 22, 1702
Author: Richard Richardson
Recipient: Hans Sloane

Library: British Library, London
Manuscript: Sloane MS 4039
Folio: f. 16



Original Page



Transcription

[fol. 16] Deare Sir/ Having made as good a collection of specimens of our northern plants as my occasions this yeare wil allowe of, I tooke the freedome to send you them by John Alkison a Branford carrier who wil safly brnig them to you along with them you wil finde a bundle directed for Mr Buddle of which I have given him notice you wil fnide in your bundle some of the stones I formerly gave you an account of having nothing else at present by me worth sending But I can not omitt relating to you the case of a certaine Lady of this Country; who benig about fower months gon with child fel into the pains of Laboure the having had several times before the misfortune to miscary was apprehensive of the wel went she was let blood twice benig of a plethorick constitution & astruigeul & Anodine medicins prescribed & what else might be thought convi[…] for her, but they did not answer the designd end for about three days after the first invasion of her paine she miscaryed, I not then being with her the Abortion was preservd in water till I came, which was some houres after, upon the first appearance I tooke it to be a Mola it was of an oval figure, & about the size of a Hens egg but being desirouse to open it I tooke it out of the water & pressing upon it with my finger it seemd to be harder than any thing I could ecpect of that kind, having cut it open not without some difficulty, I found in it a small quantity of pellucid water & an embrio as wel formd as could be expected for that time the membrane that invested it was single & of a darke red coloure without & white within& perfectly Cartalayinvouse very much resembling the hind part of the brest of a young fowle but harder & as thick. This I opened in the (pre)sence of Francis Lnidley Esqr my nerighboure whose relation it was that bore it (covered) the delivery her genre something ebated but was still very uneasy, the morning after she parted with a Cishs something larger then the first of the same forme & hardness but larger & open at one end. The Lady is now very wel it being about five weeks since this happened; it was never my fortune before to meeyt with the membrane investing the fetus Cartalayinvouse nor have I ever in any Author met with any parallel case this being to me tre Irigulare (though perhaps otherwise to you) that I though it would be a crime in me not to communicate it to a person of your learning & curiosity & hope you wil pardon my freedome in Worthy Sir your very much obliged servant Ric: Richardson North Bierly Aug: 22 702

Richardson was a physician and botanist who traveled widely in England, Wales, and Scotland in search of rare specimens. He corresponded and exchanged plants with many well-known botanists and naturalists (W. P. Courtney, Richardson, Richard (16631741), rev. Peter Davis, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004; online edn, May 2010 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/23576, accessed 31 May 2011]).




Patient Details

  • Patient info
    Name: N/A Unnamed (Woman)
    Gender:
    Age:
  • Description

    7 months pregnant; as a 'plethorick constitution'; had miscarried several times before.

  • Diagnosis

    Fell into pains of labour for three days before miscarrying the fetus. The next morning, she parted with second, similar but larger, fetus.

  • Treatment
    Previous Treatment:

    She was bled twice.


    Ongoing Treatment:
    Response:
  • More information
  • Medical problem reference
    Childbirth, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Childbirth

Nursing Fathers, Slacking Dads and False Assumptions

Things I learned on the weekend… Slacker dads watch sports instead of read their children stories. They avoid housework and childcare as much as possible. They prefer work-life to domesticity. And above all, they look upon “Wet Wipe” daddies—those who are prepared with things like spare nappies and who concentrate on what their children are doing—with contempt. Or so claims Alex Bilmes, editor of Esquire, who shared his “Confessions of a slacker dad” in The Guardian. Bilmes wonders when being a good father became so complicated, concluding that “[t]he expectations of fathers have changed. More is demanded of us.” Righto. And off he went at speed, riding on his false assumptions about fatherhood in the past!

A father feeding his infant whilst the mother attends to domestic jobs and a small child plays with its food. Etching after A. van Ostade, 1648.  Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

A father feeding his infant whilst the mother attends to domestic jobs and a small child plays with its food. Etching after A. van Ostade, 1648. Image Credit: Wellcome Library, London.

Joanne Bailey, author of the excellent Parenting in England 1760-1830, certainly has much to say on the complexities of fatherhood, identity and parent-child relationships. Being a dad was not, historically, exactly a walk in the park (with or without a Scandinavian buggy). As Bailey points out in one of her blog posts, Georgian fathers experienced (and were expected to experience) a profound range of postive and negative emotions.

In another post, she explains that Georgian society expected men as well as women to be emotional beings, resulting in an ideal that fathers should be “tender” or “nursing” or—to use a modern term–“involved”. Victorian and mid-twentieth century fatherhood, by contrast, emphasised less emotional expression (particularly in men), shifting the cultural focus to fathers’ roles as breadwinners.

The anti-Wet Wipe father Bilmes would, I expect, be surprised by (what I now call) the Medicinal Plaister Papas of the early eighteenth century: the men who performed a wide range of caregiving roles within the household, including nursing and remedy preparation. The Sloane Correspondence is filled with concerned fathers who oversaw the health care of their children.

Many fathers provided detailed reports of their children’s health and administered treatments. In a letter dated 1 February 1697, John Ray grieved for his daughter who had died of an apoplectic fit after three days of delirium. He blamed himself for giving her one of his own remedies, only to see it fail on this crucial occasion.

William Derham was concerned about his “little daughter”, aged nine, on 3 November 1710. She had been “seized immediately with a great suffocation like to have carried her off divers times”. Derham reported his daughter’s symptoms (sore throat and lungs, heart palpitations and blindness) and described her treatments, including the use of a microscope to examine her eyes. It is possible that a local physician had undertaken the microscopic examination, as the language is ambiguous. But knowing Derham’s scientific interests, it seems more likely that Derham examined his daughter’s eyes himself.

Others were concerned that their own sins might be visited upon their offspring with terrible consequences. Edward Davies, on 8 July 1728, was worried that his son’s joint pain might affect his head. In addition to reading up on John Colbatch’s remedy for convulsive distempters ( A Dissertation Concerning Mistletoe, 1723), Davies had treated his son with Daffy’s Elixir. Davies had two main questions. First, he wondered if his own past mercury treatments (for venereal disease?) had caused his son’s ill health: “my blood was poyson’d in my youth with a Quicksilver-gird & I wish my off-spring do not suffer that”. Second, he was also unsure whether teaching his son Latin to prepare him for public school would do him more harm than good in his condition. Raising a child was a fraught venture, from passing on one’s own health problems to training them well for the future. In any case, Davies was deeply involved in his son’s upbringing.

Fathers also exchanged useful medical knowledge. In August 1723, Mr. Townshend wrote to Sloane that his daughter Ann had been on her way to visit Sloane about her blindness, but  Townshend had such trouble parting with her that she would be “14 days longer”—and he would have preferred it if Sloane could come to Exeter! A month later, Townshend expressed his gratitude for Sloane’s help, although Ann was no better. Townshend had, nonetheless, suggested that Mr. Farrington and others contact Sloane for assistance.

Sure enough, that same day, Mr. Farrington had written to Sloane about his daughter’s eye problems. Farrington noted that when his daughter (now 21) was ten, she’d suffered from such violent head pain that she was expected to die. She eventually lost sight in both her eyes and although she was able to move around the home and gardens, she was unable to travel beyond them. Farrington described the nature of her limited sight, as well as the treatments and diagnosis that she had received. By the next month, Farrington waivered between hope and despair based on Sloane’s (unknown) response, but he sent Lady Yonge to collect Sloane’s remedies. As of 23 November 1723, Farrington noted that Sloane’s treatments seemed to be working “and the load she hath had above the eyes taken off”.

These last two cases reveal two worried fathers, both of whom were familiar with the details of their daughters’ treatments. Townshend’s recommendation of Sloane’s assistance to his friends also suggests a network of fathers who exchanged medical knowledge—in the case of Townshend and Farrington, about their daughters’ shared problem.

Distant dads? Not at all! These early eighteenth-century Medicinal Plaister Papas who wrote to Sloane had far more in common with the modern Wet Wipe fathers than Bilmes and his Slacker Dad ilk.

Eighteenth-Century Pain and the Modern Problem of Measuring Pain

The offending machine. A Saskatchewan example. Image credit: Daryl Mitchell, Wikimedia Commons.

I read the news about the recent study using fMRI to measure physical and emotional pain intensity right after a visit to the physiotherapist for help with my migraines. (I’ve been a migraineur since the age of eleven when a Tilt-a-Whirl ride gave me a case of whiplash.) Although there is not always a close relationship between life events and scholarly work, my migraines have shaped my interest in patients’ illness narratives. It is as both scholar and sufferer that I am troubled by the fMRI study’s implications.

Running through much of the pain scholarship is the assumption that it cannot be adequately represented by language or truly understood by others.[1] Chronic pain’s invisibility makes it difficult even for people close to a sufferer to sympathise. There has been a recent shift to trying to understand pain holistically, with the development of pain clinics where sufferers can receive treatment from a variety of health practitioners and the focus is on mind-body integration. But scientific studies of pain still often come down to one question: can you tell how much pain a patient is experiencing, either in relation to his own pain, or that of others? To this end, many have tried to find ways of measuring pain.[2]

The news is all abuzz, with headlines such as “Study shows pain is all in your head, and you can see it”. Like many previous studies, the latest attempts to provide, as Maggie Fox at NBC News puts it, an “objective way to measure pain”. Researchers applied heat-based pain to volunteers, then measured the changes within the brain using fMRI. They were able to identify a person’s relative pain, such as when one burn feels worse than another, as well as the influence of painkillers. The results of this study have the potential to be very useful when treating patients who are unable to talk or unconscious.

But there is an unsettling aspect to the study—or at least to the way in which it is being reported—in that it tries to distinguish between a real, objective pain and the experienced pain. According to the lead researcher Tor Dessart Wager quoted in the above article, the tests reveal that people really do feel pain differently: “Let’s say I give you a 48-degrees stimulus and you go ‘This is okay; I can handle it’ and I might say ‘Oh, this really hurts’… My brain is going to respond more strongly than yours. We are using this to track what people say they feel.” In other words, some people are wimps and some are stoic—and patients cannot be trusted to report the truth.

An unhelpful distinction at best: it misses out the psycho-social experience of pain of why one person might feel the pain more keenly. Age, ethnicity, status and sex all play an important role not just in a sufferer’s experience of pain, but in how others perceive what the experience should be and the trustworthiness of a sufferer’s account of pain.

It is also a potentially dangerous distinction, reinforcing as it does the idea that pain needs to be measured objectively and that technology provides the answers. The problem, as Daniel Goldberg tweeted yesterday, is that:

A report in Scientific American explains the study’s implications for chronic sufferers. The fMRI was also used to measure coping tactics for the heat-induced pain, such as mindfulness, meditation, imagination or religious belief, revealing that such methods reduce pain. Pssssst… about that: we’ve known this for a while. These sorts of methods were used long before we had effective painkillers and are frequently used by modern chronic illness sufferers.

Will measuring pain ‘objectively’ really benefit the sufferer? The use of technology for chronic pain provides a mere (if very expensive) bandaid and, to make matters worse, undermines one of the most important elements in a successful doctor-patient relationship: trust. Sometimes looking at a historical case can pinpoint the modern problems.

Lady Sondes just before her marriage. Miniature of Lady Katherine Tufton by Peter Cross, 1707. Image Credit: Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

Catherine Watson, Lady Sondes, wrote to Sloane several times between 1722 and 1734 about an unspecified illness.[3] Although she was in her late 30s, she had a litany of complaints that made her feel as “old and decayed” as someone aged fifty or sixty. Her pains ranged from headaches, gnawing leg pains, and “fullness” in her head to a stiff lip, constant fear, memory loss and “rising nerves”. She described the ways her daily life was affected. Besides being constantly distracted by pain, she worried about her legs giving out from under her or losing her memory so she would be unable to do the household accounts. These were problems for a woman who prided herself on running a large household successfully. Her descriptions were circular and repetitive, even boring, but reflected her ongoing experience: the physical pains, often not severe, nagged constantly at her throughout the day, and the fear and anxiety of what the pain might mean was all-encompassing.

Her symptoms did eventually pass, allowing her to once again go “about Busiynesse”, but the treatment had been difficult. Lady Sondes began to consult Sloane by letter when she disagreed with her regular physician’s diagnosis of hysteria. While Dr. Colby considered her ailment to be hysteria, Lady Sondes did not feel that she could trust her full story to him. Hysteria was associated with overly delicate women and a mixture of imagined problems alongside real ones, suggesting that such a diganosis may have predisposed Colby to disregard her accounts of pain. She wrote instead to Sloane who treated her “with great kindness and care”. It was not until Colby rediagnosed her as having a blood condition that she began to trust him again. A large part of Lady Sondes’ healing came from the ability to express her narrative. Sloane was not physically present; the greatest therapy he could have provided was reading her letters and answering her specific, stated concerns.

Chronic pain, with its messy emotional bits and day-to-day dullness, is encompassed within an entire life, not just a few moments spent inside a machine while clutching something uncomfortable. A crucial component of effective therapy is the trust between doctor and patient, allowing the patient to create a narrative, to be heard and to be understood. If a physician is primed to distrust a patient’s account, whether through a diagnosis or reliance on technology, the healing process will be thwarted. Sure we can measure pain, but when it comes to chronic pain, it’s not really the question we should be asking.


[1] This comes from Elaine Scarry’s influential book, The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking of the World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985).

[2] For example, the famous McGill Pain Questionnaire. See R. Melzack, “The McGill Pain Questionnaire: Major Properties and Scoring Methods”, Pain 1, 3 (1975): 277-299.

[3] I discuss this case and others from Sloane’s letters in my article, “ ‘An Account of an Unaccountable Distemper’: The Experience of Pain in Early Eighteenth-Century England and France”, Eighteenth-Century Studies 41, 4 (2008): 459-480.