[49] Danger and Uncertainty of Inoculating the Smallpox, p. 64.
[50] Massey’s Remarks, p. 18
[51] Scheuchzer and Massey.
[CHAPTER VI.]
REVIVAL OF INOCULATION.
The practice of inoculation, thus discredited, revived, and not only revived, but prevailed. The revival was gradual, and may be said to have acquired definition about 1748, under the powerful approval of Dr. Mead. In the score of years from 1728 to 1748, it is not to be imagined that the practice was abandoned: there were always a few repeating the attempt to have smallpox without the penalties of smallpox, but success was not conspicuous or encouraging. Inoculation was introduced to a generation specially disposed to receive it; and it was only allowed to slip for a time under the compulsion of manifest disaster. Perhaps there never was a people with such a taste for dodges in favour of health as the English of last century: the common intelligence was invested in quackery. Even Wesley found time to dabble in medicine, and to compile a volume of prescriptions for his followers, entitled Primitive Physic—a piquant mixture of sense with absurdity and credulity. Our forefathers had no clear conception of the connection of physical well-being with physical well-doing, and many of the essential conditions of health were unknown to them. Their physical afflictions were regarded as mysterious dispensations to be endured with resignation or frustrated with medicines. The same attitude of mind is far from uncommon at the present day, and many will recollect how, ere sanitary science attained repute, it was considered profane to assert that typhus was subject to control, and that cholera might be suppressed; whilst a drug to subdue either would be heard of with gratitude. Superstition has rarely had any objection to the apothecary.
An incident passed over in histories, although far more inwardly characteristic of the mind of the 18th century than a multitude of the superficialities wherewith their pages are cumbered, is that of Joanna Stephens and her remedies for the stone. Her cures were so remarkable and (on evidence) so indisputable, that a general demand arose for the revelation of her secret for the public benefit. This revelation Mrs. Stephens agreed to make on receipt of £5000 as compensation; and a subscription was started, to which Fellows of the Royal Society, physicians, noblemen, bishops, ladies, and kindly folk of all orders set their names. Such, however, was the unanimity and anxiety to possess the Stephens secret, that it was pronounced a national concern, and Parliament was invoked to supply the requisite funds; whereon an Act was passed “for providing a reward to Joanna Stephens upon a proper discovery to be made by her of the medicines prepared by her for the cure of the stone.” The discovery was duly disclosed to appointed trustees, one of whom was Archbishop of Canterbury, and the £5000 was paid over in 1739; and here we have the heads of the precious revelation—
My medicines are a Powder, a Decoction, and a Pill.
The Powder consists of egg-shells and snails, both calcined.