A belief in the curative power of the Royal touch over scrofulous affections continued to be universally held so late as the time of William III. Shakespeare gives us an account of it in the tragedy of Macbeth, which I have thought worth transcribing. In the 4th Act, Scene 3rd, a room in the King, of England’s palace:—
Enter a Doctor. Malcolm. Comes the king forth, I pray you? Doctor. Ay sir: There are a crew of wretched souls
That stay his cure. Their malady convinces
The great assay of art: but, at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend. [Exit Doctor. Macduff. What’s the disease he means? Malcolm. ’tis called the Evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people;
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers; and ’tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction.
Macaulay gives us the following graphic account of the practice of touching for the scrofula, as performed by that most religious and gracious King Charles the Second.
“This ceremony had come down almost unaltered from the darkest of the dark ages to the time of Newton and Locke. The Stuarts frequently dispensed the healing influences in the Banqueting House. The days on which this miracle was to be wrought were fixed at sittings of the Privy Council, and were solemnly notified by the clergy in all the parish churches of the realm. When the appointed time came, several divines in full canonicals stood round the canopy of state. The surgeon of the royal household introduced the sick. A passage from the sixteenth chapter of the Gospel of St. Mark was read. When the words ‘They shall lay their hands on the sick, and they shall recover’ had been pronounced, there was a pause, and one of the sick was brought up to the King. His Majesty stroked the ulcers and swellings, and hung round the patient’s neck a white ribbon, to which was fastened a gold coin. The other sufferers were then led up in succession; and, as each was touched, the chaplain repeated the incantation, ‘They shall lay their hands on the sick, and they shall recover.’ Then came the epistle, prayers, antiphones and a benediction.... Theologians of eminent learning, ability, and virtue gave the sanction of their authority to this mummery; and, what is stranger still, medical men of high note believed, or affected to believe, in the balsamic virtues of the royal hand. We must suppose that every surgeon who attended Charles the Second was a man of high repute for skill; and more than one of the surgeons who attended Charles the Second, has left us a solemn profession of faith in the King’s miraculous power.... We cannot wonder that, when men of science gravely repeated such nonsense, the vulgar should believe it. Still less can we wonder that wretches tortured by a disease over which natural remedies had no power should eagerly drink in tales of preternatural cures: for nothing is so credulous as misery. The crowds which repaired to the palace on the days of healing were immense. Charles the Second, in the course of his reign, touched near a hundred thousand persons. The number seems to have increased or diminished as the King’s popularity rose or fell.
“In 1682, he performed the rite eight thousand five hundred times. In 1684, the throng was such that six or seven of the sick were trampled to death. James, in one of his progresses, touched eight hundred persons in the choir of the Cathedral of Chester. The expense of the ceremony was little less than ten thousand pounds a year, and would have been much greater but for the vigilance of the royal surgeons, whose business it was to examine the applicants, and to distinguish those who came for the cure from those who came for the gold.” (History of England, Vol. III., p. 478.)
William the Third gave great offence to the nonjurors by sneering at a practice sanctioned by the highest ecclesiastical authorities; yielding to importunity, he once consented to lay his hands on a patient, but his good sense compelled him to exclaim:—“God give you better health and more wisdom, my friend.”
Shortly after the death of Sydenham came Dr. Freind, who was born in 1675. Being a man of worth and learning, he soon acquired a leading position in his profession, and having devoted himself early in life to the study of politics, he was returned to Parliament as member for Launceston, where, having warmly espoused the cause of the amiable Atterbury, he fell under the censure of Walpole, who sent him to the Tower on a charge of treason. This misfortune gave rise to one of the finest instances of devotion, on the part of his friend Mead, that has ever been recorded for the honour of human nature. Walpole was taken seriously ill, and of course sent for Mead, who at that time was the most popular physician. The doctor is reported to have addressed the minister thus:—“You are very ill, Sir Robert, and I can cure you; but one condition is indispensable. Dr. Freind has been in prison some months, and my esteem for him is so great that I will not prescribe a single thing for you until he is set at liberty.” Walpole hesitated, but Mead was resolute, and at length the tyrant gave way. Freind was released, and Mead when he paid his first visit of congratulation, took with him a considerable sum of money, the produce of fees he had received from Freind’s patients during his incarceration. Freind was a voluminous writer, and compiled a history of medicine in which he attacked some of the opinions of Leclerc, who had gone more extensively and accurately into the subject.
Next in order, we must say a few words of Dr. Mead. Richard Mead was born in 1673, at Stepney. Political troubles drove his father, who was rector of the parish, into Holland, where this future ornament of the medical profession was educated, at Utrecht, under Grœvius. He continued his studies at Leyden, and travelling into Italy, took his degree of doctor at Padua. On his arrival in England, whither his fame had preceded him, the University of Oxford confirmed his title, and the College of Physicians received him with applause, as did the Royal Society (then but recently established.) He soon became the leading practitioner of the day, and in course of time Physician to George the Second. For more than half a century he attended at St. Thomas’s Hospital, and is said to have suggested to Guy the foundation of the hospital known by that name. A more noble, disinterested, and generous man than Mead never lived. His emoluments were very large, and his benevolence and hospitality kept pace with his income. It is stated that no poor applicant ever left his door unrelieved.
“Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send.”