The patriarch had strong faith in Theriaca, and the directions he gives for its administration are minute, and would be explicit if he had only explained how much he meant by “a little bit.”
“Theriaca,” he says, “is a good drink for all inward tenderness, and the man who so behaves himself as is here said, he may much help himself. On the day on which he will drink Triacle he shall fast until midday, and not let wind blow on him that day; then let him go to the bath, let him sit there till he sweat; then let him take a cup, put a little warm water in it, then let him take a little bit of the triacle, and mingle with the water, and drain through some thin raiment, then drink it, and let him then go to his bed and wrap himself up warm, and so lie till he sweat well; then let him arise and sit up and clothe himself, and then take his meat at noon (three hours after midday), and protect himself earnestly against the wind that day; then I believe to God it will help the man much.”
Early English Medical Practice.
In the thirteenth century Roger Bacon, the great man of science, wrote on medicine, alchemy, magic, and astrology, as well as most other sciences. He believed that a universal remedy was attainable, and urged Pope Clement IV to give his powerful aid to its discovery. Nothing particular remains of his medical studies.
Gilbert Anglicanus, who was a contemporary of Bacon, and wrote a Compendium of Medicine, a tedious collection of the most fantastic theories of disease, was more advanced in pharmacy than in the treatment of disease. He describes at considerable length the manner of extinguishing mercury to make an ointment, recommending particularly the addition of some mustard seed to facilitate the process. He gives particulars of the preparation of the oil of tartar per deliquium, and proposes a solution of acetate of ammonia in anticipation of Mindererus four hundred years later. Gilbert’s formula is thus expressed:—
“Conteratur sal armoniacum minutim, et superinfundatur frequenter et paullatim acetum, et cooperiatur et moveatur, ut evanescet sal.”
Ant’s eggs, oil of scorpions, and lion’s flesh is his prescription for apoplexy, but he does not explain how the last ingredient was to be obtained in England. Several of his formulas are quoted in the first London Pharmacopœia. For the expulsion of calculi he prescribes the blood of a young goat which has been fed on diuretic herbs such as persil and saxifrage.
Chaucer, whose writings belong to the latter half of the fourteenth century, has left on record a graphic picture of the “Doctour of Phisike” of his day, and the old poet is as gently sarcastic about his pilgrim’s “science” as a writer of five hundred years later might have been. “He was grounded in astronomy,” we are told, and—
Well could he fortune the ascendant
Of his images for his patient