KINGS OF ENGLAND.
As the following subject, which has exercised the faith and incredulity of mankind for so many ages, comes before me in the light of a religious ceremonial, I shall not attempt to defend or depreciate the validity of this gift; though it may be necessary to observe some circumstances as they occur, which may point different ways. Well-attested instances of the effect of this power of healing may be produced; though other examples are too ludicrous and futile to attract serious attention. We may, however, in these enlightened and unsuperstitious times, speak freely on a subject, which for many years, I may say centuries, absorbed the faith of whole Nations; viz. the Cure of the King's Evil by the Royal Touch. As Mr. Addison, in the quality of The Spectator, professed a modest veneration for a couple of sticks, if concealed under petticoats; so am I loyally and religiously induced to "honour the King," as a part of our excellent Constitution: but why Kings should have in themselves a preternatural gift above other men, by healing the most stubborn of all diseases, exceeds my comprehension. Every body is, at this time, I dare believe, of the same opinion; and this foolish affectation of a divine inherent power has wisely been laid aside, ever since the accession of the House of Hanover.
If Kings really possessed such an uncommon, such a wonderful gift, why has it been taken away? The same legal rights remain in the Royal Person now that have adhered to it for ages—while this Divine Prerogative has fallen away; or rather let us say, that the incredulity of the world has increased.
The cases brought forward by the advocates for this Gift are exceedingly strong and well attested; but yet there is something so palpably absurd in the mere supposition, that the evidence, when brought forward, will be found to destroy itself on a cross-examination.
As to the subject, and all its wonderful consequences, I have just as much faith as I have in the two following circumstances:
Lord Bolingbroke tells us, from Bodin, Amyot, and other writers, that Ferdinand King of Spain, and Alphonsus King of Naples, were cured of desperate distempers by reading Livy and Quintus Curtius[181]. Again, there was such astonishing virtue in Quintus Curtius, that we are further told, Alphonsus IX. King of Spain[182] was healed by reading his works, after having in vain read the Bible throughout fourteen times[183]. Credat qui vult. And yet I could as soon subscribe to these, as to the cures performed by the Royal Touch.
Anciently there was great reputed sanative virtue in a seventh son; and he was looked upon as a heaven-born Doctor, and those his medical abilities were reverenced for that reason only by the common people. So far the Doctor would be safe, and might kill with impunity; but it was a crime to heal.
Thus I have a case before me in the Reign of King Charles I. where a poor unfortunate man, who was the seventh son of a seventh son, and never killed any body (for he was a gardener, and not a physician), was severely treated, because he pretended to have in him the faculty of healing several disorders, and especially the King's Evil, by the Touch or stroking of his hand. This man was imprudent enough to depreciate the Royal Touch; otherwise, at that time, he might have obtained a comfortable subsistence from his credulous patients; but that unfortunate intrenchment on the Royal Prerogative drew down upon him the double vengeance of the Court of Star-Chamber, and of the College of Physicians; which last, in the most courtly manner, denounced him to be an impostor[184]. Delenda est Carthago. It was highly necessary for the reputation of the Royal pretensions that this man should be proscribed.
The next person who appears to have usurped this Gift was Mr. Valentine Greatrackes, a gentleman of Ireland, who first practised his art of healing by the Touch in his own country; and afterwards came into England, where, at first, he obtained great reputation, which fell off by degrees, so that there was no occasion for any violent measures to prevent his intrenching on the Royal Prerogative.
This gentleman wrote an account of his several cures, in a Letter to the Honourable Robert Boyle, which was printed in 1668. Whether Mr. Boyle was a believer I know not; but it was at a time when the King practised, so that he might think it prudent to conceal his real sentiments.
How far imagination will operate in such cases, as the old women, even of this age, contend it does in Agues, is a question not for me to discuss; but it tempts me to transcribe the following story, as given by Mr. Granger, vol. IV. p. 32.
"I was myself a witness of the powerful workings of imagination in the populace, when the waters of Glastonbury were at the height of their reputation. The virtues of the spring there were supposed to be supernatural, and to have been discovered by a revelation made in a dream to one Matthew Chancellor. The people did not only expect to be cured of such distempers as were in their nature incurable, but even to recover their lost eyes, and their mutilated limbs. The following story, which scarce exceeds what I observed upon the spot, was told me by a gentleman of character. 'An old woman in the workhouse at Yeovil, who had long been a cripple, and made use of crutches, was strongly inclined to drink of the Glastonbury waters, which she was assured would cure her of her lameness. The master of the workhouse procured her several bottles of water, which had such an effect, that she soon laid aside one crutch, and not long after, the other. This was extolled, as a miraculous cure. But the man protested to his friends, that he had imposed upon her, and fetched the water from an ordinary spring.' I need not inform the Reader, that when the force of imagination had spent itself, she relapsed into her former infirmity."