SECT. I. The NATURE of the DISORDER.

TO call the Hypochondriasis a fanciful complaint, is ignorant and cruel. It is a real, and a sad disease; an ob­struction of the spleen by thickened and dis­tempered blood; extending itself often to the liver, and other parts; and unhappily is in England very frequent. Physic has scarce known a Disorder more fertile in ill; or more difficult of cure.

The blood is a mixture of many fluids; which, in a state of health, are so combined, that the whole passes freely through its ap­pointed vessels: but if by the loss of the [Page 4]thinner parts, the rest becomes too gross to be thus carried through, it will stop where the circulation has least power; and having thus stopped, it will accumulate; heaping by degrees obstruction on obstruction.

Health, chearfulness, and the quiet exer­cise of the mind, depend upon a perfect cir­culation: is it a wonder then, when this be­comes impeded, the body loses of its health, and the temper of its sprightliness? to be otherwise would be the wonder: and he in­humanly insults the afflicted, who calls this change a voluntary frowardness. The slightest state of this obstruction brings with it sick­ness, anguish, and oppression; and innumera­ble ills follow its advancing steps; unless prevented by a timely care; till life itself grows burthensome.

The disease was common in antient Greece; and her physicians understood it, better than those perhaps of later times, in any other country; who, though happy in many ad­vantages, which these fathers of the science could not have, yet want the great assistance of frequent watching the disease in all its stages.

Those venerable writers have delivered its nature; and its cure: in the first, every ob­servation at this time shews they were right; [Page 5]and what they have said as to the latter will be found equally just and true. All this, so far as present experience has confirmed it, and no farther, will be here laid before the afflicted in a few plain words.

SECT. II. PERSONS subject to it.

FATIGUE of mind, and great exer­tion of its powers often give birth to this disease: and always tend to encrease it. The finer spirits are wasted by the labour of the brain: the Philosopher rises from his study more exhausted than the Peasant leaves his drudgery; and this, without the benefit he has from exercise. Greatness of mind, and steady virtue; determined resolution, and manly firmness, when put in action, and intent upon their object, all lead to this disease: perhaps whatever tends to the en­nobling of the soul, has at least an equal share in bringing on this weakness of the body.

Hence we may learn easily who are the persons most subject to it: the grave and studious; those of a sedate temper and en­larged understanding; the learned and wise; the virtuous and the valiant: those whom it would be the interest of the world to wish were free from this and every other illness; and who perhaps, except for this alloy, would have too large a share of human hap­piness.

Though these are most, it is not these alone, who are liable to the disorder. There are countries where it is endemial; in other places many have the seeds of it in their constitution; and in some it takes its rise from accidents. In these last the complaint is the easiest of cure; and in the first most difficult.

Beside the Greeks here named, the Jews of old were heavily afflicted with this evil; and in their descendants to the present day it is often constitutional: the Spaniards have it almost to a man; and so have the American Indians. Perhaps the character of these se­veral nations may be connected with it: the steady honour, and firm valour of the Spa­niard, very like that of the ancient Doric nation, who followed the sober flute and not the sprightly trumpet to the field; and met the enemy, not with shouts and fury, but [Page 7]with a determined virtue; is perhaps ally'd to this constitution: it is the character of the Hypochondriac to be sedate and temperate, but unmoveably resolved: the Jew has shewn this, mistakenly indeed; but astonishingly; and the poor Indian, untaught as he is, faces all peril with composure; and sings his death­song with unalter'd countenance.

Among particular persons the inquiring and contemplative are those who suffer most by this disease; and of all degrees of men I think the clergy. I do not mean the hunt­ing, shooting, drinking clergy, who follow the tables of the great; but the retir'd and conscientious; such as attend in midnight filence to their duty; and seek in their own cool breasts, or wheresoever else they may be found, new admonitions for an age plunged in new vices. To this disease we owe the irreparable loss of Dr. YOUNG; and the present danger of many other men, the best and most approved amongst us.—May what is here to be proposed, prevent a loss truly irre­parable!

The Geometrician, or the learned enquirer, of whatever denomination, whose course of study fixes his regard for ever on one object; his mind intensely and continually employed upon one point, ought to be timely warned also that he is in danger; or if he find himself [Page 8]already afflicted, he should be reminded that the same course of life, which brought on the disorder, will, without care, encrease it to the most dreaded violence.

The middle period of life is that wherein there is most danger of an attack from this disease: and the latter end of autumn, when the summer heats have a little time been over, or early spring, when we first feel the sun, are the seasons when, in our climate, its first assaults are most to be expected. The same periods of the year always increase the dis­order also in those who have been before afflicted with it: and it is a truth which must however unwillingly be confessed, that from its first attack the patient grows continually, though slowly, worse; unless a watchful re­gimen prevent it.

The constitutions most liable to this ob­struction are, the lean and dark complexion­ed; the grave and sedentary. Let such be aware of the first symptoms; and obviate, (as they may then with ease) that which it will be much more difficult to remove.

It is happy that a disease, wherein the pa­tient must do a great deal for himself, falls, for the most part, upon those who have the powers of reason strongest. Let them only be conscious of this; that the distemper na­turally [Page 9]disposes them to inactivity; and that the best reason will have no force unless ac­companied with resolution.

Though the physician can do something in the cure of this Disease, much more depends upon the patient: and here his constancy of mind will be employed most happily. None can be better qualified to judge, on a fair hearing, what course it is the most fit that he should take; and having made that choice, he must with patience wait its good effects. Diseases that come on slowly will take up time in curing: an attention to the first ap­pearances of this disorder will be always hap­piest; because when least established it is most easily overthrown: but when that happy pe­riod has been neglected, the Sick must wait the effects of such a course as will dilute and melt the obstructing fluid gradually; for till that be done it is not only vain, but sometimes dangerous, to attempt an expulsion of it from the body.

The blood readily separates into grosser and thinner parts: we see this even in bleeding; and from the toughness of the red cake from that operation, may guess how difficult it will be to dissolve such a substance, though of less firmness, in the vessels of the body. That the blood can thus become thickened within the body, every Pleurisy shews us too evidently: in [Page 10]that disease it is brought on suddenly, and with inflammation; in the other, slowly and with­out: and in this last case, even before it forms the obstruction, can bring on many mischiefs. Various causes may produce the same effect, but that in all cases operates most durably, which begins most slowly. The watery part of the blood is its milder part; in the re­maining gross matter of it, are acrid salts and burning oils; and these, when destitute of that happy dilution which nature gives them in a healthy body, are capable of doing the greatest mischief to the tender vessels in which they are kept stagnant.

SECT. III. The SYMPTOMS of the DISORDER.

THE first and lightest of the signs that shew this illness are a lowness of spirits, and inaptitude to motion, a disrelish of amusements, a love of solitude and a ha­bit of thinking, even on trifling subjects, with too much steadiness. A very little help may combat these: but if that indo­lence, [Page 11]which is indeed a part of the disorder, will continue to neglect them; worse must be expected soon to follow.

Wild thoughts; a sense of fullness, weight, and oppression in the body; a want of ap­petite, or, what is worse, an appetite without digestion; for these are the varying condi­tions of different states of the disease: with these will come on a fullness, and a diffi­culty of breathing after meals, a straitness of the breast, pains and flatulencies in the bowels, and an unaptness to discharge their contents.

The pulse then becomes low, weak, and unequal; and there are frequent palpitations of the heart: a little dark-coloured urine is voided at some times; and a flood of colour­less and insipid water at others; relieving for a moment, but not affecting the distem­per: there is in some cases also a continual teazing cough, attended with a choaking stoppage in the throat at times; then heart­burn, sickness, hardness of the belly; with a costive habit or continual tormenting and vain irritation.

The lips will now turn pale; and the eyes lose their brightness; and by degrees the whites will grow as it were greenish: the gums by this time want their due firmness, with their proper colour; and an unpleasing [Page 12]foulness grows upon the teeth: the inside of the mouth is pale and furred, and the throat dry and parched: the colour of the skin is pale (though there are some periods when the face looks florid) and as the obstruction gathers ground, and more affects the liver, the whole body becomes yellow, tawny, greenish, and at length of that deep and dusky hue, to which men of strong imagi­nation have given the name of blackness.

These symptoms do not all appear in any one period of the disease; or all in any one case; but at one time or other the whole of them; as well as others, which now fol­low: the flesh becomes cold to the touch, though the patient does not himself perceive it; the limbs grow numbed and torpid, the breathing dull and slow, and the voice hollow; and usually the appetite in this pe­riod is reduced almost to nothing: night sweats come on, black swellings appear on the veins, the flesh wastes, and the breast becomes flat and hollow: the mouth is full of a thin spittle, the head is always dizzy and confus'd; and sometimes there is an un­conquerable numbness in the organs of speech.

I have known the temporary silence that follows upon this last symptom become a jest to the common herd; and the unhappy [Page 13]patient, instead of compassion and assistance, has received the reproof of sullenness; from those who should have known and acted better.

About twenty years ago I met, on a visit at Catthorpe in Leicestershire, a young gen­tleman of distinguished learning and abili­ties, who, as I was told, at certain times was speechless. The vulgar thought it a pretence: and a jocose lady, where he was at tea with company, putting him as she said to a trial, poured out a dish very strong, and without sugar. He drank it; and re­turned the cup with a bow of great reserve, and his eye bent on the ground: she then filled the cup with sugar, and pouring weak tea on it, sent that also to him: he drank it; looked at her steadily; and blushed for her. The lady declared the man was dumb in­deed; and the rest thought him perverse, and obstinate: but a constant and steady perseve­rance in an easy course of medicines cured him.

All these are miseries which the disease, while it retains its natural form, can bring upon the patient; and thus he will in time be worn out; and led miserably, though slowly, to the grave. Let him not indulge his inactivity so far as to give way to this, [Page 14]because death is represented as far off; for the disease may suddenly and frightfully change its nature; and swifter evils follow.

SECT IV. The DANGER.

SUCH are the effects of this mischievous obstruction, considered in its simple state: but this, though often in itself unsurmountable by art; at least by any method in common use; will be sometimes broken through at once by nature, or by accidents; and bring on fatal evils. These are strictly speaking different diseases; and are no otherway con­cerned here, than as the consequences of that whereof we are treating.

The thick and glutinous blood, which has now so long stagnated in the spleen, will have at length altered its nature; and ac­quired a very great degree of acrimony. While it remains dormant, this does no other mischiefs, than those named already; but when violent exercise; a fit of outrageous anger; or any thing else that suddenly [Page 15]shocks and disturbs the frame, puts it in motion, it melts at once into a kind of liquid putrefaction. Being now become thin, it mixes readily with the mass of blood again; and brings on putrid fevers; destroys the substance of the spleen itself; or being thrown on some other of the viscera, corrodes them, and this way leads in a swift and miserable death. If it fall upon the liver, that tender pulpy substance is soon destroyed; jaundices, beyond the help of art, first follow; then dropsies; and all their train of misery: if it fix upon the lungs, consumptions; if on the brain, convul­sions, epilepsy, palsy, and apoplexy; if on the surface, leprosy.

The true intention of cure in the Hypo­chondriasis, therefore, is to melt this coagu­lation softly; not to break it violently: and when thus dissolved, to give it a very gentle passage through the bowels. There is no safe way for it to take but that; and even that, when hurried, may bring on fatal dysenteries.

Let no one wonder at the sudden devas­tation which sometimes rises from this long stagnant matter, when liquified too hastily: we know how long, how many years, the impacted matter will continue quiet in a [Page 16]schirrous tumour of the breast; but being once put in motion, whether from acci­dent, or in the course of nature, who can describe; or what can stop its havock!

Instances of the same nature, from this obstructing matter of the spleen, are but too frequent. A nobleman the other day died paralytic; and dissection shewed a spleen consumed by an abscess, formed by the dissolved matter of such an obstruction; and 'tis scarce longer since, that a learned gentleman, who had been several years lost to his friends, by the extreams of a Hy­pochondriacal disorder, seem'd gradually without assistance to recover: but the lungs suffered while the spleen was freed; and he died very soon of what is called a galloping consumption.

Thus we see, when the obstruction is great and has been of long continuance, if it be thus hastily moved, the consequence is, a sudden and a miserable death; whe­ther, like the matter of a cancer, it remains in its place, or, like that of a confluent small pox, be thrown upon some other vital part.

Yet let not the patient be too much alarmed: this is laid down to caution, not [Page 17]to terrify. 'Tis fit that he should know his danger, and attend to it; for the pre­vention is easy: and the cure, even of the most advanced stages, when under­taken by gradual and gentle means, is not at all impracticable. To assist his physi­cian, let him look into himself; and recol­lect the source of his complaint: this he may judge of from the following no­tices.

SECT. V. The Causes of the HYPOCHONDRIASIS.

THE obstruction which forms this disease, may take its origin from different accidents: a fever ill cured has often caused it; or the piles, which had been used to discharge largely, ceasing; a marshy soil, poisoned with stagnant water, has given it to some persons; and altho' indolence and inactivity are oftenest at the root, yet it has sometimes arisen from too great exercise.

Real grief has often brought it on: and even love; for sometimes that is real. Study and fixed attention of the mind have been accused before; and add to these the stooping posture of the body, which most men use, though none should use it, in writing and in reading: this has contri­buted too much to it: but of all other things, night studies are the most destruc­tive. The steady stillness, and dusky ha­bit of all nature in those hours, enforce, encourage, and support that settled gloom, which rises from fixt thought; and sinks the body to the grave; even while it car­ries up the mind to heaven. He who would have his lamp

will waste the flame of this unheeded life: and while he labours to unsphere the spirit of Plato ^* will let loose his own.

SECT. V. The Cure of the HYPOCHONDRIASIS.

LET him who would escape the mis­chiefs of an obstructed spleen, avoid the things here named: and let him who suffers from the malady, endeavour to re­member to which of them it has been owing: for half the hope of relief de­pends upon that knowledge.

Nature has sometimes made a cure her­self, and we should watch her ways; for art never is so right as when it imitates her: and sometimes the patient's own reso­lution has set him free. This is always in his power; and at all times will do wonders.

The bleeding of the piles, from nature's single efforts, has at once cured a misera­ble man; where their cessation was the [Page 20]cause of the disorder. A leprosy has ap­peared upon the skin, and all the symp­toms of the fermer sickness vanished. This last among the Jews happened often: both diseases we know were common to them: and I have here seen something very like it. Water-Dock has thrown out scorbutic eruptions, and all the former symptoms of an Hypochondriacal disorder have disappeared: returning indeed when these were unadvisedly struck in; but keeping off entirely when they were more wisely treated. A natural purging un­suppressed has sometimes also done the same good office: but this last is hazardous.

It is easy to be directed from such in­stances: only let us take the whole along with us. Bleeding would have answered nature's purpose, if she could not have opened of herself the haemorrhoidal ves­sels; but he who should give medicines with that view, might destroy his pa­tient by too great disturbance. If a na­tural looseness may perform the cure, so may an artificial; when the original source of the disorder points that way. But these are helps that take place only in par­ticular cases.

The general and universal method of cure must be by some mild and gently resolving medicine; under the influence of which the obstructing matter may be voided that, or some other way with safety. The best season to undertake this is the spring, or autumn, but even here there should be caution.

In the first place, no strong evacuating remedy must be given; for that, by car­rying off the thinner parts of the juices, will tend to thicken the remainder; and that way certainly encrease the distemper. No acrid medicine must be directed, for that may act too hastily, dissolve the im­pacted matter at once, and let it loose, to the destruction of the sufferer; no anti­monial, no mercurial, no martial prepa­ration must be taken; in short, no chy­mistry: nature is the shop that heaven has set before us, and we must seek our medicine there. The venerable ancients, who knew not this new art, will lead us in the search; and (faithful relators as they are of truth) will tell us whence we may deduce our hope; and what we are to fear.

But prior to the course of any medicine, [Page 22]and as an essential to any good hope from it, the patient must prescribe himself a proper course of life, and a well-chosen diet: let us assist him in his choice; and speak of this first, as it comes first in order.

SECT VI. Rules of Life for HYPOCHONDRIAC PERSONS.

AIR and exercise, as they are the best preservers of health, are also greatest assistants in the cure of all long-continued diseases, and they will have their full effect in this: but there requires some caution in the choice, and management of them. It is common to think the air of high grounds best; but experience near home shews otherwise: the Hypochondriac patient is always worse at Highgate, even than in London.

The air he breathes should be temperate; not exposed to the utmost violences of heat or cold, and to the swift changes from one to the other; which are most felt on those high grounds. The side of a hill is the best place for him: and though wet grounds are hurtful; yet let there be the shade of trees, to tempt him often to a walk; and soften by their exhalations the over dryness of the air.

The exercise he takes should be frequent; but not violent. Motion preserves the firmness of the parts, and elasticity of the vessels: and it prevents that aggregation of thick humours which he is most to fear. A sedentary life always produces weakness, and that mischief follows: weak eyes are gummy, weak lungs are clogged with phlegm, and weak bowels waste themselves in vapid diarrhoeas.

Let him invite himself abroad, and let his friends invite him by every innocent inducement. For me, I should advise above all other things the study of Nature. Let him begin with plants: he will here find a continual pleasure, and continual change; fertile of a thousand useful things: even of the utility we are seeking here. [Page 24]This will induce him to walk; and every hedge and hillock, every foot-path side, and thicket, will afford him some new ob­ject. He will be tempted to be continu­ally in the air; and continually to change the nature and quality of the air, by visit­ing in succession the high lands and the low, the lawn, the heath, and forest. He will never want inducement to be abroad; and the unceasing variety in the subjects of his observation, will prevent his walking hastily: he will pursue his studies in the air; and that contemplative turn of mind, which in his closet threatened his destruc­tion, will thus become the great means of his recovery.

If the mind tire upon this, from the re­peated use, another of nature's kingdoms opens itself at once upon him; the plant he is weary of observing, feeds some insect he may examine; nor is there a stone that lies before his foot, but may afford instruc­tion and amusement.

Even what the vulgar call the most ab­ject things will shew a wonderful utility; and lead the mind, in pious contemplation higher than the stars. The poorest moss that is trampled under foot, has its im­portant [Page 25]uses: is it at the bottom of a wood we find it? why there it shelters the fallen seeds; hides them from birds; and covers them from frost; and thus becomes the foster-father of another forest! creeps it along the surface of a rock? even there its good is infinite! its small roots run into the stone; and the rains make their way after them; the moss having lived its time, dies: it rots, and with the mouldered fragments of the stone forms earth; wherein, after a few successions, useful plants may grow, and feed more useful cattle! ^*

Is there a weed more humble in its as­pect, more trampled on, or more despised than knot-grass? no art can get the better of its growth; no labour can destroy it! 'twere pity if they could: for the thing lives where nothing would of use to us; and its large and most wonderfully abun­dant seeds, feed, in hard winters, half the birds of Heaven.

What the weak moss performs upon the rock, the loathed toadstool brings about in timber: is an oak dead where man's [Page 26]eye will not find it? this fungus roots it­self upon the bark; and rots the wood beneath it: hither the beetle creeps for shelter, and for sustenance; him the wood­pecker follows as his prey; and while he tears the tree in search of him, he scatters it about the ground; which it manures.

Nor is it the beetle alone that thus insi­nuates itself into the substance of the ve­getable tribe: the tender aphide ^*, whom a touch destroys, burrows between the two skins of a leaf, for shelter from his winged enemies; tracing, with more than Dedalaean art, his various meanders; and veining the green surface with these white lines more beautifully than the best Aegyp­tian marble.

'Twere endless to proceed; nor is it needful: one object will not fail to lead on to another, and every where the good­ness of his God will shine before him, even in what are thought the vilest things; his greatness in the least of them.

Let him pursue these thoughts, and seek abroad the objects and the instigations to [Page 27]them: but let him in these and all other excursions avoid equally the dews of early morning, and of evening.

The more than usual exercise of this prescription will dispose him to more than customary sleep, let him indulge it freely; so far from hurting, it will help his cure.

Let him avoid all excesses: drink need scarce be named; for we are writing to men of better and of nobler minds, than can be tempted to that humiliating vice: Those who in this disorder have too great an appetite, must not indulge it: much eaten was never well digested: but of all excesses, the most fatal in this case is that of venery. It is the excess we speak of.

SECT. VII. The proper DIET.

IN the first place acids must be avoided carefully; and all things that are in a state of fermentation; for they will breed acidity. Provisions hardened by salting never should be tasted; much less those cured by smoaking, and by salting. Bacon is indigestible in an Hypochondriac sto­mach; and hams, impregnated as is now the custom, with acid fumes from the wood fires over which they are hung, have that additional mischief.

Milk ought to be a great article in the diet: and even in this there should be choice. The milk of grass-fed cows has its true quality: and no other. There are a multitude of ways in which this may be [Page 29]made a part both of our foods and drinks, and they should all be used.

The great and general caution is, that the diet be at all times of a kind loosen­ing, and gently stimulating; light, but not acrid. Veal, lamb, fowls, lobsters, crabs, craw-fish, fresh-water fish, and mutton broth, with plenty of boiled vegetables, are always right; and give enough va­riety.

Raw vegetables are all bad: sour wines, old cheese, and bottled beer, are things ne­ver to be once tasted. Indeed much wine is wrong, be it of what kind soever. It is the first of cordials; and as such only I would have it taken in this disease; when it is wanted: plainly as a medicine, rather than a part of diet. Malt-liquor carefully chosen, is certainly the best drink. This must be neither new, nor tending to sour­ness; perfectly clear, and of a moderate strength: it is the native liquor of our country; and the most healthful.

Too much tea weakens; and even sugar is in this disorder hurtful: but honey may supply its place in most things; and this is not only harmless, but medicinal; a very [Page 30]powerful dissolvent of impacted humours; and a great deobstruent.

What wine is drank should be of some of the sweet kinds. Old Hock has been found, upon enquiry, to yield more than ten times the acid of the sweet wines; and in red Port, at least in what we are content to call so, there is an astringent quality, that is most mischievous in these cases: it is said there is often alum in it: how pregnant with evil that must be, to persons whose bowels require to be kept open, is most evident. Summer fruits perfectly ripe are not only harmless, but medicinal; but if eaten unripe, they will be prejudicial. A light supper, which will leave an appetite for a milk breakfast, is always right; and this will not let the stomach be ravenous for dinner; as it is apt to be in those who make that their only meal.

One caution more must be given; and it may seem a strange one: it is, that the pa­tient attend regularly to his hours of eat­ing. We have to do with men for the most part, whose soul is the great object of their regard; but let them not forget they have a body.

The late Dr. STUKELY has told me, that one day by appointment visiting Sir ISAAC NEWTON, the servant told him, he was in his study. No one was permitted to disturb him there; but as it was near his dinner-time, the visitor sat down to wait for him. After a time, dinner was brought in; a boil'd chicken under a cover. An hour pass'd, and Sir ISAAC did not appear. The doctor then eat the fowl; and covering up the empty dish, bad them dress their master another. Before that was ready, the great man came down: he apologiz'd for his delay; and added, ‘"Give me but leave to take my short dinner, and I shall be at your service; I am fatigued and faint."’ Saying this, he lifted up the cover; and without any emotion, turned about to STUKELY with a smile; ‘"See,"’ says he, ‘"what we studious people are, I forgot I had din'd."’

SECT. VIII. Of MEDICINE.

'TIS the ill fate of this disease, more than of all others, to be misunder­stood at first; and thence neglected, till the physician shakes his head at a few first questions. None steals so fatally upon the sufferer: its advances are by very slow de­grees; but every day it grows more diffi­cult of cure.

That an obstruction in the spleen is the true malady, the cases related by the an­tients, present observation, and the unerring testimonies of diffections, leave no room to doubt. Being understood, the path is open where to seek a remedy: and our best guides in this, as in the former instance, will be those venerable Greeks; who saw a thousand of these cases, where we meet with one; and with less than half our theory, cured twice as many patients.

One established doctrine holds place in all these writers; that whatever by a hasty fermentation dissolves the impacted matter of the obstruction, and sends it in that state into the blood, does incredible mischief; but that whatever medicine softens it by slow degrees; and, as it melts, delivers it to the bowels without disturbance; will cure with equal certainty, and safety.

For this good purpose, they knew and tried a multitude of herbs: but in the end they fixed on one: and on their repeated trials of this, they banished all the rest. This stood alone for the cure of the dis­ease; and from its virtue received the name of SPLEEN-WORT ^*. O wise and happy Greeks! authors of knowledge and perpe­tuators of it! With them the very name they gave a plant declared its virtues: but with us, a writer calls an herb from some friend; that the good gardener who receives the honour, may call another by his name who gave it. We now add the term smooth to the name of this herb, to distinguish it from another, called by the same general term, though not much resembling it.

The virtues of this smooth Spleen-wort [Page 34]have stood the test of ages; and the plant has every where retained its name and credit. One of our good old herbarists, who had seen a wonderful case of a swoln spleen, so big, and hard, as to be felt with terror, brought back to a state of nature by it; and all the miserable symptoms vanish with the swelling; thought Spleen-wort not enough expressive of its excellence; but stampt on it the name of MILT-WASTE.

In the Greek Islands now, the use of it is known to every one: and even the lazy monks who take it, are no longer splenetic. In the west of England, the rocks are strip­ped of it with diligence; and every old woman tells you how charming that leaf is for bookish men: in Russia they use a plant of this kind in their malt liquor: it came into fashion there for the cure of this disease; which, from its constant use, is scarce known any longer; and they now suppose 'tis added to their liquor for a flavour.

The antients held it in a kind of venera­ration; and used what has been called a superstition in the gathering it. It was to be taken up with a sharp knife, without vi­olence, and laid upon clean linen. No time but the still darkness of the night was pro­per, [Page 35]and even the moon was not to shine upon it ^*. I know they have been ridiculed for this; for nothing is so vain as learned ignorance: but let me be permitted once to vindicate them.

The plant has leaves which can close at their sides; and their under part is covered thick with a yellow powder; consisting of the seeds, and seed-vessels: in these they knew the virtue most resided: this was the golden dust ^† they held so valuable; and this they knew they could not be too cau­tious to preserve. They were not igno­rant of the sleep of plants; a matter lately spoken of by some, as if a new discovery; and being sensible that light, a dry air, an expanded leaf, and a tempestuous season, were the means of losing this fine dust; and knowing also that darkness alone brought on that closing of the leaf which thence has been called sleep; and which helped to de­fend and to secure it; they therefore took such time, and used such means, as could best preserve the plant entire; and even save what might be scattered from it.—And now where is their superstition?

From this plant thus collected they pre­pared [Page 36]a medicine, which, in a course of forty days, scarce ever failed to make a perfect cure.

We have the plant wild with us; and till the fashion of rough chemical preparations took off our attention from these gentler re­medies, it was in frequent use; and great repute. I trust it will be so again: and many thank me for restoring it to notice.

Spleen-wort gives out its virtues freely in a tincture; and a small dose of this, mixing readily with the blood and juices, gradually dissolves the obstruction; and by a little at a time delivers its contents to be thrown off without pain, from the bowels. Let this be done while the viscera are yet sound and the cure is perfect. More than the forty days of the Greek method is scarce ever required; much oftener two thirds of that time suffice: and every day, from the first dose of it, the patient feels the happy change that is growing in his constitu­tion. His food no more turns putrid on his stomach; but yields its healthful nourish­ment: the swelling after meals therefore vanishes; and with that goes the lowness, and anxiety; the difficult breath, and the dis­tracting cholick: he can bear the approach of rainy weather without pain; he finds [Page 37]himself more apt for motion, and [...] take that exercise which is to be [...] in his cure: life seems no longer burthen-some: his bowels get into the natural condition of health, and perform their office once at least a day; better if a little more: the dull and dead colour of his skin goes off, his lips grow red again, and every sign of health returns.

Let him who takes the medicine, say whether any thing here be exaggerated. Let him, if he pleases to give himself the trouble, talk over with me, or write to me, this gradual decrease of his complaints, as he proceeds in his cure. My uncertain state of health does not permit me to practise physic in the usual way; but I am very desirous to do what good I can; and shall never refuse my advice, such as it may be, to any person, rich or poor, in whatever manner he may apply for it. I shall refer him to no apothecary, whose bills require he should be drenched with potions; but tell him, in this as in all other cases, where to find some simple herb; which he may if he please prepare himself; or if he had rather spare that trouble, may have it so prepared from those whom I instruct to do it.

[...] regard [...] using it is more effectual than sim­ply taking it in powder; the only advantage of a tincture, is, that a proper dose may be given, and the stomach not loaded with too large a quantity: it is an easier and pleasanter method; and nothing more. This Tincture may be had of Mr. Trueman, Bookseller, at N ^o 394, in the Strand.

If any person choose to take this herb in the other way, I should still wish him once at least to apply to me; that he may be as­sured what he is about to take is the right plant. Abuses in medicines are at this time very great, and in no instance worse than what relates to herbs. The best of our physicians have complained upon this head with warmth, but without redress: they know the virtues and the value of many of our native plants; but dread to prescribe them; lest some wrong thing should be administered in their place; per­haps inefficacious, perhaps mischievous, nay it may be fatal. The few simple things I direct are always before me; and it will at all times be a pleasure to me, in this and any other instance, to see whether what any per­son is about to take be right. I have great obligations to the public, and this is the best return that I know how to make.