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 ob⯑ſtruction of the ſpleen by thickened and diſ⯑tempered 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 ap⯑pointed veſſels: but if by the loſs of the [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 exer⯑ciſe of the mind, depend upon a perfect cir⯑culation: is it a wonder then, when this be⯑comes impeded, the body loſes of its health, and the temper of its ſprightlineſs? to be otherwiſe would be the wonder: and he in⯑humanly inſults the afflicted, who calls this change a voluntary frowardneſs. The ſlighteſt ſtate of this obſtruction brings with it ſick⯑neſs, anguiſh, and oppreſſion; and innumera⯑ble 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 ad⯑vantages, 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 ob⯑ſervation at this time ſhews they were right; [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 exer⯑tion 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 en⯑nobling 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 en⯑larged 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 hap⯑pineſs.

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 ſe⯑veral nations may be connected with it: the ſteady honour, and firm valour of the Spa⯑niard, 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 [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 death⯑ſong 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 hunt⯑ing, 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 irre⯑parable!

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 [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 diſ⯑order 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 re⯑gimen prevent it.

The conſtitutions moſt liable to this ob⯑ſtruction are, the lean and dark complexion⯑ed; 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 pa⯑tient 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 na⯑turally [9]diſpoſes them to inactivity; and that the beſt reaſon will have no force unleſs ac⯑companied 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 ap⯑pearances of this diſorder will be always hap⯑pieſt; becauſe when leaſt eſtabliſhed it is moſt eaſily overthrown: but when that happy pe⯑riod 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 [10]that diſeaſe it is brought on ſuddenly, and with inflammation; in the other, ſlowly and with⯑out: 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 re⯑maining 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 ha⯑bit of thinking, even on trifling ſubjects, with too much ſteadineſs. A very little help may combat theſe: but if that indo⯑lence, [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 ap⯑petite, or, what is worſe, an appetite without digeſtion; for theſe are the varying condi⯑tions of different ſtates of the diſeaſe: with theſe will come on a fullneſs, and a diffi⯑culty 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 colour⯑leſs and inſipid water at others; relieving for a moment, but not affecting the diſtem⯑per: there is in ſome caſes alſo a continual teazing cough, attended with a choaking ſtoppage in the throat at times; then heart⯑burn, 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 [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 imagi⯑nation 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 fol⯑low: 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 pe⯑riod 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 un⯑conquerable 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 [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 gen⯑tleman of diſtinguiſhed learning and abili⯑ties, 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 re⯑turned 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 in⯑deed; and the reſt thought him perverſe, and obſtinate: but a conſtant and ſteady perſeve⯑rance 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, [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 con⯑cerned 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 ac⯑quired 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 [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, convul⯑ſions, epilepſy, palſy, and apoplexy; if on the ſurface, leproſy.

The true intention of cure in the Hypo⯑chondriaſis, therefore, is to melt this coagu⯑lation 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 devaſ⯑tation 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 [16]ſchirrous tumour of the breaſt; but being once put in motion, whether from acci⯑dent, 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 Hy⯑pochondriacal 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; whe⯑ther, 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 [17]to terrify. 'Tis fit that he ſhould know his danger, and attend to it; for the pre⯑vention is eaſy: and the cure, even of the moſt advanced ſtages, when under⯑taken by gradual and gentle means, is not at all impracticable. To aſſiſt his phyſi⯑cian, let him look into himſelf; and recol⯑lect the ſource of his complaint: this he may judge of from the following no⯑tices.

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 contri⯑buted too much to it: but of all other things, night ſtudies are the moſt deſtruc⯑tive. The ſteady ſtillneſs, and duſky ha⯑bit 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 car⯑ries 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 miſ⯑chiefs of an obſtructed ſpleen, avoid the things here named: and let him who ſuffers from the malady, endeavour to re⯑member to which of them it has been owing: for half the hope of relief de⯑pends upon that knowledge.

Nature has ſometimes made a cure her⯑ſelf, and we ſhould watch her ways; for art never is ſo right as when it imitates her: and ſometimes the patient's own reſo⯑lution 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 miſera⯑ble man; where their ceſſation was the [20]cauſe of the diſorder. A leproſy has ap⯑peared upon the ſkin, and all the ſymp⯑toms 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 un⯑ſuppreſſed has ſometimes alſo done the ſame good office: but this laſt is hazardous.

It is eaſy to be directed from ſuch in⯑ſtances: 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 veſ⯑ſels; but he who ſhould give medicines with that view, might deſtroy his pa⯑tient by too great diſturbance. If a na⯑tural 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 par⯑ticular 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 car⯑rying 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 im⯑pacted matter at once, and let it looſe, to the deſtruction of the ſufferer; no anti⯑monial, no mercurial, no martial prepa⯑ration muſt be taken; in ſhort, no chy⯑miſtry: 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, [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. [24]This will induce him to walk; and every hedge and hillock, every foot-path ſide, and thicket, will afford him ſome new ob⯑ject. He will be tempted to be continu⯑ally in the air; and continually to change the nature and quality of the air, by viſit⯑ing 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 deſtruc⯑tion, will thus become the great means of his recovery.

If the mind tire upon this, from the re⯑peated 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 inſtruc⯑tion and amuſement.

Even what the vulgar call the moſt ab⯑ject 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 im⯑portant [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 aſ⯑pect, 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 abun⯑dant 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 [26]eye will not find it? this fungus roots it⯑ſelf upon the bark; and rots the wood beneath it: hither the beetle creeps for ſhelter, and for ſuſtenance; him the wood⯑pecker 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 inſi⯑nuates itſelf into the ſubſtance of the ve⯑getable 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 Aegyp⯑tian marble.

'Twere endleſs to proceed; nor is it needful: one object will not fail to lead on to another, and every where the good⯑neſs 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 [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 ſto⯑mach; 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 [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 looſen⯑ing, 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 va⯑riety.

Raw vegetables are all bad: ſour wines, old cheeſe, and bottled beer, are things ne⯑ver 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 ſour⯑neſs; 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 [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 pa⯑tient attend regularly to his hours of eat⯑ing. 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 miſunder⯑ſtood 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 de⯑grees; but every day it grows more diffi⯑cult of cure.

That an obſtruction in the ſpleen is the true malady, the caſes related by the an⯑tients, 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 diſ⯑eaſe; and from its virtue received the name of SPLEEN-WORT^*. O wiſe and happy Greeks! authors of knowledge and perpe⯑tuators 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 [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 ſtrip⯑ped 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 venera⯑ration; and uſed what has been called a ſuperſtition in the gathering it. It was to be taken up with a ſharp knife, without vi⯑olence, and laid upon clean linen. No time but the ſtill darkneſs of the night was pro⯑per, [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 cau⯑tious to preſerve. They were not igno⯑rant 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 de⯑fend 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 pre⯑pared [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 re⯑medies, 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 conſtitu⯑tion. His food no more turns putrid on his ſtomach; but yields its healthful nouriſh⯑ment: the ſwelling after meals therefore vaniſhes; and with that goes the lowneſs, and anxiety; the difficult breath, and the diſ⯑tracting cholick: he can bear the approach of rainy weather without pain; he finds [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 ſim⯑ply 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 aſ⯑ſured 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; per⯑haps 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 per⯑ſon 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.