In Martin’s “Western
Islands,” published in 1703, there will be found a great variety of
most interesting information as to the popular medical remedies and
surgical appliances which, nearly two centuries ago, he found in common
use among the Celts of the Isles. Martin’s book is, indeed, a rich mine,
wherein might easily be quarried much precious ore, in the folk-lore,
not only of popular medicine, but of a thousand other delightful topics.
I am not going to review the work, nor to draw upon its multiform
contents for the materials of a lecture. Till very recently it was-one
of the rarest and most precious of rare Highland books; but it has now
been reprinted, and brought within the reach of ordinary readers. Every
Highlander, and every student of the Highland problem, whether on its
social, political, or economical sides, should possess and carefully
study the volume. In its pages I can promise him a feast of fat things,
and of wine well refined— not merely a substantial repast, but a feast
of knowledge, so served and flavoured as to tickle the palate of the
most fastidious literary epicure, whatever his tastes or predilections.
Compared with Martin’s varied symposium,
what I am going to-present to you will be but a modest repast, in which,
very possibly, by the keener olfactories, a soupc(on of Martin may be
scented, for I have lately been deep in “ the feast of reason” between
his brown mahogany boards. But my whole and only purpose is just simply
to describe to you such old traditionary treatment in domestic medicine
and surgery as fifty years ago I personally observed among the Highland
people. Let us begin with a subject whose interest unhappily touches us
all very closely.
Consumption, or phthisis, though not then so
common as at present, was a well-known disease in my early days. It was
believed to be infectious. During the visit to my father’s house of a
boy believed to be consumptive, I was warned by an old domestic not to
sleep with him, “else,” as she put it, “by breathing his breath, you’ll
get from him the white lights,” that is, white lungs. The phrase is
significant. White lungs—that is, lungs thoroughly infiltrated with
white tubercular matter, in the form known as “ miliary tubercle”—are
but too well known in the dissecting rooms of every medical school; and
any one who is familiar with the post mortem theatre of a modern
hospital will gather from the-phrase that the Highland people of my
boyhood’s days were not without some traces of sound pathological
knowledge.
Besides a line of treatment to be mentioned
farther on, there were various remedies for this serious and, even then,
too often fatal disease. Nourishing food was strongly insisted upon. The
marrow of bones, especially that found in the long bones of the ox, was
greatly valued, and eagerly sought after. A soup made of snails was also
much esteemed. The snails were also cut up into small pieces, and hung
in a porous cloth before the fire, so as by dripping to yield a juice,
which was taken internally, as we take cod liver oil. Lamb broth, made
with certain herbs, was also considered very helpful. And of medicinal
herbs, those most in vogue were:—The dandelion, root and leaf, raw,
cooked, and in the form of infusion; the marsh mallow; the wortle berry;
colt’s foot; the mullin; flax, in the form of tea; and the gentian,
mainly as a tonic. Most of these herbs are useful adjuvants of natural
digestion. They would, therefore, have a good effect in the early stages
of the disease. Others would similarly help the liver and kidneys when,
in the later stages, these organs had to take up their share of the
failing function of the now disabled lungs. Certain mineral springs were
resorted to by not a few, and where the disease had not already taken a
firm hold of the system, they were undoubtedly of great value. One of
these wells, which is rich in carbonate of iron, was used by Hugh Miller
when a boy at Cromarty ; and he very highly praises its virtues, as I
can also do from personal experience. It is, however, to be noted that
the waters of Strathpeffer, our greatest of Scottish spas, have always
been contra-indicated by the popular voice in cases of suspected
phthisis.
But the Highlander’s mainstay in the early
domestic treatment of this fell disease was not properly medicinal, nor
yet was it exclusively nutritional. His treatment was, indeed, very
largely nutritional, but it was also, and still more largely,
manipulative. In fact, it was, as appears to me, nothing less than that
system of treatment which is at present so highly valued in the
profession under the fashionable name of massage. And if we had the
reality of massage without the name, the operator, as in the modern
instance, was usually a masseuse, though she would be mightily surprised
if addressed by that now fashionable title. The masseuse of my early
experience was a tall, muscular, horny-handed daughter of toil. An
out-worker on the farm, she added something to her earnings of sixpence
a-day by the practice of her art. Her fee for each sitting was half a
pound of fresh butter. A small portion of this was used as a lubricant
in her professional operation, which was as follows :—I was seated on a
high chair, and had to strip to the loins. The dame stood behind me, and
set to work with a sweep of both hands from before backwards, in the
line of the lower border of my chest, so as to satisfy herself as to the
condition and position of the cartilaginous ends of my youthful ribs,
and especially of the ensiform cartilage, which she called an duilleaa,
that is, “the little leaf.” A main part of her immediate object was to
prevent the ends of the lower ribs and the ensiform cartilage from
turning inwards into the region of the abdomen. With this object she
would again and again sweep a hand on either side, with steady pressure
of palm and fingers, from before backwards, along the lower border of
the chest; and then, with sudden movement of the fingers, she would dig
in beneath the border of the chest at its attachment to the diaphragm,
and pull out the ribs with moderate but firm and continued force. In
most persons the ensiform cartilage is more or less curved inwards at
the pit of the stomach. This the masseuse held to be the fertile source
of much serious disease. Many a sore tug did she give, in vain
endeavours to rectify this undesirable malformation of my skeleton; many
and solemn her head-shakings at the poor success of her attempts. She
was persuaded, and almost persuaded my sorrowing mother, that I was
already in the earlier stage of an tinneas caitheadh, “the wasting
disease,” as consumption was then popularly called by our people. That
her treatment was beneficial there can be no doubt. The bones of my
chest were then pliable and elastic; much of the chest-box, at that
early age, being really not osseous, but cartilaginous. Massage of the
chest, at that age, and as my old masseuse was wont to practice her art,
cannot help being beneficial. The sweeping pressure of palm and fingers,
well anointed with sweet fresh butter, though begun at the lower border
of the chest, was continued over the whole upper portion of my body,
from below upwards, from above downwards, and, most of all, from before
backwards; and ever and anon there came the dig and sweep, and the
continued pull of her iron fingers beneath the lower ribs, and hooked
round the peccant ensiform, to raise them outwards, and so to “open the
chest.” The Gaelic name of this early form of massage has often puzzled
me. It was known as a toirt na clachan cleibh dheth 'n ghille, that is,
literally, “taking the creel stones off the lad.” In some way it seemed
as if, by an unconscious anticipation of the modern theory of heredity,
the old people thought that we children were being visited with the
consequences of some excessive labour in burden-bearing on the part of
our remote ancestors; thus associating the genesis of this mysterious
disease with another of the sore perplexities of my childhood, arising
out of one of the many abstruse and mysterious questions of Shorter
Catechism. The name, in all probability, is simply a degraded form of
the words glacadh cleitke, “a catching or ‘stitch’ of the side.” Logan
(Scottish Gael, ii.t p. 170) speaks, indeed, of the one word glacadh, as
being itself “among the Highlanders the name of a disease of a
consumptive nature, affecting the chest and lungs.” In that sense it
would be the Gaelic equivalent of phthisis pulmonalis, “consumption of
the chest.” But glacadh, in that sense, is unknown to me. The
dictionaries have it as a “swelling of the hollow (glac) of the hand.”
But external swelling is not a symptom of consumption. Logan’s use of
the word cannot, therefore, settle the question. It is, indeed, to be
greatly regretted that in the mouths of the Highland people, many names,
whether of plants, birds, diseases, or even of places, have long ago, in
the wear and tear of common use, lost all trace of their first meaning.
It may be here stated, by way of
parenthesis, that the manipulations of my masseuse were always
accompanied by a low, muttering, inarticulate sort of incantation, whose
meaning, or even the words, I could never catch. The meaning, in all
likelihood, was unknown to herself. If she knew it, she was certainly
very careful to keep her patient in the dark. She was a good Protestant,
and as a regular and devout church goer, she used to hear the minister
thunder out all the terrors of the law against witchcraft and all forms
of superstition, as well as against pipers and fiddlers. Whatever the
reason, she was always reticent on the subject. Very often did I ask
what it was she was saying, but she did not seem to understand my
question, or rather, she looked at me in such a way as was probably
meant to convey that impression to my mind.
The whole subject of health-charms among the
Highlands, whether used to restore health or to protect it from adverse
influence or the evil eye, has been admirably treated in Mr Maebain’s
learned and thoroughly exhaustive lecture to this Society. I have
nothing to add to what by him has been so well said. But reference may
be made to a few Gaelic charms printed in Mackenzie's “Beauties of
Gaelic Poetry,” at page 268, in a foot note. In Dr John Smith’s “History
of the Druids,” at page 80, there may also be found a very old and
comprehensive rule of health, summed lip in these words : —Bi gu sugacfi,
genmnaidh, mocheireack: “be cheerful, chaste, an early riser.”
In the treatment of consumption, it appears
to me that the advanced medical science of our day is just now very
hopefully feeling its way to a new departure which may prove to be of
the utmost value and of vast significance. That departure, if ever it is
made, will be in the direction of introducing into the blood a garmicide
which, while effectually sterilizing the germs of this fell disease,
will not seriously hurt the patient. But the sun of this day of happy
omen is not yet visible in the horizon, and the sheet-anchor of the
faculty must still, as of old, be found in aliment and nutrition.
Whatever nutritious aliment is easiest of digestion, and whatever w^e
can do to put the digestive organs in the best condition for the proper
assimilation of proper and nutritious aliment—that is the best and the
utmost that for the present the physician can do for his patient. And
that, it seems to me, along with the chest-rubbing just described, was
also the sheet-anchor of our grandmothers. Take for example the milk
treatment of consumption. In my early days warm milk, fresh drawn from
the cow, and taken at early mom on an empty stomach, was the favourite
remedy for this, as, indeed, for all anomic forms of disease. The
“strippings ” of the milk—that is, the last residual product of the
milking of the cow—were rightly considered to be possessed of especially
curative virtues. Now what is this but just treatment in the way of
nutritive alimentation! for it is well known that the “strippings” are
peculiarly rich in cream. Nor was it otherwise with the dash of good
rum, which, in this “ first-footing” of the daily aliment, was a usual
And wholesome adjunct of the treatment. Goat
milk, in my early days, was held to be pre-eminently curative, and ass
milk came next in popular favour. Milk from the mare, so far as I can
remember, was prescribed only in cases of prolonged whooping-cough ; and
its use was associated with the muttering of a charm and the passing of
the patient, in a certain prescribed order, under the belly and between
the legs of the mare. The ritual, if one may so speak, of this last
mentioned treatment was no doubt superstitious and absurd. But of the
other adjuncts of the •old Highland milk-cure, it can honestly be said
that they were all such as would to-day be recommended as rational
adjuvants of the treatment. “To be consumed on the premises,” that is,
at the byre door, and at early morn, was, for example, a rule everywhere
insisted upon as essential. In the curative use of goat milk it was also
expected that, if at all possible, the patient should go to the goat on
her native hills. Now, it is obvious that such adjuncts of treatment as
these are in themselves, and in a very high degree, most healthsome and
remedial, for mountain air and early rising have always commended
themselves to thinking men as eminently conducive to health of mind and
body. It were a good thing for the young people of these days of
cramming, and the competition Wallah, if, with all their multiform and
multitudinous acquisitions of knowledge, they kept a firm hold of these
simple, old-world rules of healthful living. They know perhaps a great
deal more than their grandmothers, and in some things they may be wiser,
but in this matter of early rising, and a substantial breakfast,
deliberately and decently partaken of, as the reward of a good natural
appetite, they might do worse than take a leaf out of the old world
wisdom, piously stored up in such grandmotherly books as “Meg Dodd’s
Cookery,” and Sir John Sinclairs “Code of Health and Longevity.” The
growing habit of lying lazily a-bed till the last moment, and then
hastily gulping a cup of overdrawn, scalding tea, with a few hurriedly
bolted mouthfuls of hot roll, before racing away post haste to school or
to business—this shameful habit has much to answer for in the seriously
unsatisfactory health-bill of too many families in our midst, both rich
and poor. And it is perhaps one of the greatest advantages, to our young
people, of public school life, that in public schools this great rule of
early rising and a proper interval, before the morning meal, to gather
up a natural appetite for a substantial, deliberate breakfast, is now
sternly insisted upon. It is a golden rule which every parent and
patriot should by all means strive to make universal; and there be few
of us who cannot, in some way, help to make it so. Why, for example,
should it not be our rule to have family prayers before, rather than
after, breakfast? Such a rule, if only, with the honest consent and
hearty co-operation of both heads of the house, it could be made
imperative and habitual, would go far to prove that Godliness is
profitable unto all things, and has the promise of the life that now is,
as well as of that which is to come ; carrying in its right hand the
clear blessing of mundane good health, as well as the higher, if also
less palpable, blessings of that life that is unseen and eternal.
The hydropathist, equally with the masseur,
was anticipated in the Highland folk-medicine of fifty years ago. The
virtues of the medicated bath were, indeed, known to the Celts of very
early times; for we read of a great bath, medicated with all the
slan-lusaei, “health plants,” of Ireland, into which, at the battle of
Magh Tuirettdh, the wounded were plunged, with such salutary effect,
that straightway every man of them returned to the fight, and not a few
of them did so again and again. Whatever of the fabulous may enter into
that old Celtic story, I can myself vouch for the verity and the success
of such items of hydropathic treatment as the following :—My old
schoolmaster, fifty years ago, was wont to bathe daily in the sea, all
through the winter. Another sufferer used to wade into the sea up to the
waist, with his clothes on ; with his clothes thus turned into a
wet-pack of sea water he rushed home and into bed; there he had numerous
blankets heaped over him till he broke out into a copious perspiration,
and soon passed into a refreshing sleep. A common form of treatment was
to boil the patient’s flannel shirt, to put it on him, wrung out of the
boiling water, as hot as he could bear it, and then to heap on
bed-clothes, with the same restorative effect as that last mentioned. As
the shirt was often boiled in the potato pot, its virtues as a hot
poultice may possibly have found an adjuvant in the soothing properties
of that solanaceous edible! The sudden and unexpected shock of the cold
douche on his bare back, or a similarly sudden touch of the hot poker
over his seventh rib loco grgroto, was counted good treatment for a
patient suffering from jaundice. And I have heard in my native parish,
and in my own day, though I did not see it, of that very effectual mode
of inducing perspiration which Martin sawr practised long before in
Skye. A great fire was kindled on the clay floor of the kitchen ; after
the fire had been kept up at great heat for a long time, it was quickly
removed, and its place was covered with a thick layer of straw, on this
a pitcher of water was poured, and then the patient, being laid on the
wetted straw, was covered over with heaped up layers of bed-clothes. The
result was a speedy and copious perspiration, sound sleep, and in all
probability the permanent cure of some serious ailment.
The literature of Celtic medicine lies
outside the scope of this paper, which professes only, from personal
observation, to deal with simples, and the simple treatment of disease
by the common people. The so-called medical treatises of the Macleans
and the Beatons—two celebrated medical families of Mull and Skye—are
therefore outside my present purpose. These MSS., so far as they are
medical, consist mostly of extracts in Latin, translated into Gaelic,
from the early medical authorities of the continent. They are, in fact,
just such common-place books as would ordinarily be kept by educated men
in times when printing was unknown, or printed books few and far
between.
Did your time permit, much that is not
without interest might still be added. The male fern has long been used
in the Highlands as a vermifuge for man and dogs. The wild garlic, the
broom, juniper, golden rod, sage, and foxglove were common diuretics.
The fresh young nettle wTas variously used, and is really a tasty
substitute for spinnach. The wild parsley— dangerous though it be in
unskilled hands, by reason of its close resemblance to the dwarf
hemlock—entered largely into the domestic pharmacopoea. Eye-bright, was
lus nan sul, the eye plant; the house leek, was lus nan cluas, the ear
plant; while the garden sage, like several others, was honoured with the
name of dan lus, the health plant.
Bone-setting, of course, was practised in
the Highlands as elsewhere. The art was not altogether mere rule of
thumb ; for the bone-setters had their secrets, jealously guarded, and
with much care handed down from sire to son. Nor were they so entirely
ignorant of the human skeleton as some modem critics would have us
believe. Looking back on my own experience, as the patient, long ago, of
more bone-setters than one, I can see that they had a firm hold of two
sound principles of treatment. (1). In manipulating an ailing limb, they
keenly watched the patient’s features and movements for every indication
of pain; rightly, as I think, taking such indications as pointing to the
real seat or cause of his hurt or trouble. In the case of old adhesions,
whether of long dislocated joints or of misfitted fractures, the key to
treatment might thus be hopefully looked for. (2). Their second great
principle was simplicity itself, but yet it was a most powerful adjuvant
of their restorative manipulation. It was this : by locking the knee or
the elbow they greatly increased the length and the power of the lever
with which they worked. I well remember how thus an old dislocation of
the shoulder, which had baffled more than one regular practitioner, was
speedily righted by the bone-setter. Very gently at first he took the
ailing arm in his brawny grasp; with keen eye intently fixed on the
patient’s features, and with the dislocated limb sl extended as to lock
the elbow, lie gently and tentatively moved it slowly to right and left,
upwards and downwards: a twinge and a cry from the patient: a pause, and
some deep thinking on the part of the operator: manipulation resumed,
and the same twinge or cry again : then, with knit brows, and putting
forth all his great power of brawny muscle, while his left hand steadied
the patient's elbow, the bone-setter made one sudden wrench, and the
thing was done. With a “click,” the head of shoulder bone was back in
its socket.
For enlarged, or elongated uvula—“the pap of
the throat ”— an ailment common among young people in my early days, as
it is to-day, the common practice was to search the top of the scalp for
the whorl or central parting of the hair (the “welkie,” as the medicine
man called it), and then, twisting a bundle of these central hairs on
the top of the head round the fore-finger, to give them a sudden wrench
upwards. This operation was expected to “lift” the “fallen” uvula; a
process which was assisted by repeatedly drawing the closely-pressed
palms of both hands, embracing both sides of the face, upwards from
Adam’s apple, under the patient’s chin, to the top of his head. And this
reminds me that even in the matter of that specially modem instrument,
the surgical ecraseur, our old Highland grandmothers anticipated one of
the greatest and most valuable discoveries of modem surgery. With a
noose of horsehair, passed through a common goose quill, in the hands of
an old Highland midwife, I once saw the uvula as neatly and as
effectually operated upon as, with the modern instrument, it could be
treated by Spence or Syme.
Of the old Highland catholicon, or universal
remedy, your time forbids me to say more than a word. Whether the
ailment was a cold or a fever, or the much feared small-pox, whether its
seat was abdominal, thoracic, or cephalic, and whether it was a
faintness or a fullness, there was one remedy that never came amiss. It
was a glass of good honest whisky. But Troja fuit / Good honest whisky
is no longer to be had for love or money. The making of it is a lost
art—as much so as its long lost sister-art of the ancient Picts, who are
said to have made a wholesome and delicious beverage from the fresh,
fragrant shoots of the blooming heather.
In what is here set down I have drawn
exclusively on the stores of memory and early personal observation.
Everything printed on the subject, whether old or new, I have purposely
eschewed. Will you take it as my stone upon the cairn of an interesting
inquiry, that ought to lead to important results in the service of
humanity ? And in return for any service I have thus rendered, I would
ask those present to supplement what has been said, out of the stores of
their own early experience or observation. On one point I would
specially invite farther information. That form of early “ massage,” or
chest-rubbing, which I have endeavoured to describe, seems to me to have
been peculiar to this district of the Highlands. I can find little trace
of it elsewhere. And I firmly believe that it contains the elements of a
system of treatment which, in competent hands, might still be largely
and hopefully used for the relief of our suffering humanity. The better
day of a safe and effective germicidal treatment of consumption may
already possibly be dawning upon us. But what looks like the dawn of
that better day, may only be the electric flush of a subtle delusion.
Meanwhile, an intelligent system of pectoral manipulation, would seem to
be the needful complement of what is now being done in the way of a cure
by alimentation. In consumption, the candle of life is burning away at
both ends—at the respiratory end, and at the alimentary end. Anything,
therefore, that enlarges the chest, increases its elasticity, and
stimulates in a healthy, natural way, its vital function of respiration,
cannot fail to be most helpful in our efforts to combat the disease, and
to set up processes of restoration or repair, through the nutrient
functions of the alimentary canal. Those of you who can add anything to
these reminiscences of the chest massage of my early days, are urgently
invited to do so. For any additional information on the subject, and for
any intelligent hints for its renewed and more effectual application, or
modification, I shall be truly grateful. Such information had best be
given now, that it might pass at once into the Transactions of the
Society. But written communications, sent to me at your convenience,
would also lay me under a debt of obligation, which I shall always
gratefully acknowledge.
In conclusion, let me commend to your
serious consideration, the practical lessons which each of you may draw
for himself, and apply to his own case, from the following quotations :—
“I beseech all persons, who shall read this
work, not to degrade themselves to a level with the brutes, or the
rabble, by gratifying their sloth, or eating and drinking promiscuously
whatever pleases their palates, or by indulging their appetites of every
kind. But whether they understand physic or not, let them consult their
reason, and observe what agrees and what does not agree with them, that,
like wise men, they may adhere to the use of such things as conduce to
their health, and forbear everything which, by their own experience,
they find to do them hurt; and let them be assured that, by a diligent
observation and practice of this rule, they may enjoy a good share of
health, and seldom stand in need of physic or physicians.”
Such is the testimony of an authority in
medicine, which is second to none. It is the testimony of Galen himself.
Here is another word of warning and
encouragement:—
“Though I look old, yet I am strong and
lusty,
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I, with unbashful forehead, woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly.”
So wrote one whose knowledge of men, and of
the world, has been the admiration of learned and simple for full three
centuries—I suppose I must not say the immortal Shakespeare, and I
cannot just yet bring myself to say Lord Bacon. Let us compromise the
matter, and say, so wrote the immortal author of “As You Like It.”
An interesting and instructive discussion
followed the reading of Dr Masson’s paper. Dr Aitken, of Inverness, who
has given the subject a considerable amount of attention, spoke as
follows:— Mr President, Ladies, and Gentlemen,—I have listened with very
great pleasure to the address we have heard from Dr Masson, on a subject
which has naturally, from my profession, interested me much. Some years
or so age, I began to collect matter for a paper of a similar nature,
and, if the Society will permit, I shall lay before it some of the
information I have collected, taking the diseases in the order in which
they come in my notes. And, first, in regard to epilepsy, a disease
always regarded with great veneration by all primitive people, there
appears to be a cure which has held its prominence in all districts of
the Highlands, with variations. For recovery from the disease, a black
cock, without a white feather, was taken and buried in the place where
the patient had the first fit. A modification of this process was the
taking of the pairings of the nails of the fingers and toes, binding
them up in hemp, with a sixpence in a piece of paper, on which was
written the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The parcel
was then taken, tied under the wing of a black cock, and buried in a
hole dug at the spot where the first fit occurred, by the oldest
God-fearing man of the district, who must watch and pray all night by
the fire, which must not be let out. Another very universal remedy was
drinking water out of the skull of a suicide at dawn. Charms were also
lavishly employed against the disease, and I have heard of a woman
taking her son from Fort-Augustus to Strathspey to a priest, who gave
her a paper for her boy to wear. Unfortunately, a year after the amulet
was received, it was unfolded, the words read, and the fits reappeared.
It is also said that priests have the power to transfer the fits from
day to night; that children born feet first are able to cure the falling
sickness; and that power over the ailment is transmitted in families by
the “power of words,” to quote the expression in which the information
was given me. But, turning to the question so prominently taken up by Dr
Masson—the treatment of consumption—I may remark I was much struck by
his explanation of the Gaelic name given to the disease, as it seems to
me only another instance how accurate was their observation of nature. I
have no doubt, indeed, Dr Masson’s explanation of the words he gave is
correct, for a stitch in the side, to use a common expression for
pleuritic manifestations, may be one of the first symptoms to betray the
commencement of this malady; and I may here instance another of the
primitive means of diagnosis, given to me by an old Highlander with whom
I discussed the disease. If, he said, a person spits on the floor, and
the sputum falls flat, it is certain he is consumptive; if, however, the
sputum “ takes a start,” it is certain he is free from the disease.
Turning, however, to the remedies in the disease, in addition to those
mentioned by Dr Masson—good food, mare, and goat’s milk—I may instance
the following:—The plant goomri (I merely pronounce the word
phonetically) is taken and boiled in a large quantity of water. The
decoction is then thrown into a tub, and the person sits over it and
steams himself. In a similar way, a steam bath is made by boiling the
calf’s herb in a large quantity of water. A decoction of the Asplenium
Adiantuni Nigrum, a black spleenwort, is also used in the disease; and,
as a forerunner of the much-vaunted chemical food, and showing how
instinct often precedes scientific theories, it may be mentioned that
the Highlanders believed great benefit was to be derived in consumption
by the administration of a jelly made from the scrapings of deer horns.
Dr Masson’s reference to the primitive massage exercised amongst the
people is extremely interesting; but I question if it is likely to do
good in a perfectly declared case of consumption, and I should be
inclined to place more dependence on the more primitive methods of good
food, mare’s milk, goat’s milk, and plenty of fresh air. Turning now to
some of the diseases regarding which I have less information, I may
mention that worms were cured by drinking tea made of rue ; that
smallpox was thought to be benefitted, if not cured, by whisky, or by
whisky and black beer ; that the application of sea-weed to the joint
affected removed rheumatism. Warts were removed by applying the fasting
spittle to them, by rubbing them with a stone, then placing this in a
bag and dropping it on the road. Whenever any one picked it up, the
warts disappeared from the person having them, and attacked the finder.
Warts were also cured by washing them with pig’s blood, or with the
milky juice of the euphorbia. Sores were thought to be beneficially
affected by having the Lady’s Mantle applied to them. The common
plantain was efficacious when applied to cuts; and the broad-leaved
plantain made into a poultice made “ gatherings” disappear. Turning for
the moment to surgery, about which I have scant information, I have only
to mention that if a person who had the power tied a thread round the
fractured part, the fractured bone at once healed. In inflammation of
the eye, the eye affected was rubbed by the person who had the power the
first thing in the morning, his patient fasting, with a stone on which
the operator spat and sprinkled soot. The application was continued
until the part recovered—a somewhat rough and ready treatment for so
delicate an organ. For the same disease, the eye was washed by a
decoction made from the common eyebright, or with water over which a
rhyme had been repeated. Milk and cold tea were also favourite
applications in such maladies. For a black eye, a slice /f a potato was
applied to it; and a similar application was made to the nape of the
neck in bleeding from the nose. In regard to toothache, I have heard of
many remedies, but the following is the most curious—a caterpillar is
taken, rolled up in a cotton cloth and put underneath the tooth. The
following charm, which an, aged man told me he had seen used in
Glen-Urquhart, and worn by the sufferer, is said to be supremely
efficacious :—
St Peter sat on a marble stone,
Jesus Christ came to him alone.
“Peter, what aileth thee to weep?"
“ My Lord and God, it is the toothache.”
For the bile, in addition to the remedies
mentioned by previous speakers, I may add an infusion of the inner bark
of the barberry. For a disease, if widely spread, as scrofula or king’s
evil, the most efficacious means were thought to be being touched by the
king, or by the seventh son. The power of the seventh son was, however,
greater if a daughter was born before and after the series of sons. The
child also who had been "freed” in this manner had the same power, but
exercised it in a different way. A sovereign was dropped into a vessel
of water, into which he inserted his hand, and over the water a blessing
was pronounced, and the sufferer was sprinkled or washed with it, and
usually recovered. If, however, the person who had acquired the power
had any improper relation with a female, the gift passed from him. I may
also state that water so blessed was often sent great distances, and one
of my informants told me of a woman belonging to the West Coast
suffering from scrofulous sores who was cured by water sent from a boy
who had the power, and lived in Inverness. Looking now, however, to some
of the common diseases, I may refer to whooping cough, for which the
remedies appear to be both numerous and varied; but the most interesting
aids against this disease seems to be the following :—If the child is
put on the wrong side of the cow when he is suffering from the ailment
it will go away. It is also cured if the child is put to nurse in a
family in which the husband and wife were of the same name before
marriage. Snails were bruised and applied to the legs, and the oil made
from them taken as in consumption. A recovery was often effected by
putting a “paddock” into a tumbler of water, and getting it to drink out
of it, w hen, as my informant stated, it took a start, and the cough
disappeared. Children were taken across the water, and carried to a
house, at which, if they were offered food, the disease passed away. In
both Glen-Urquhart and Lochalsh mare’s milk was a favourite remedy; and,
in the latter district, water taken from the clefts of the rocks was
thought to be very efficacious. Another, and, I am led to believe, at
one time a favourite remedy, was to break off a horn from any homed
beast, and drink out of it. Another of the common diseases which
attracted special attention was erysipelas or the rose, and from the
various modes of treatment proposed for it, I select the following, but,
in the first place, I may remark I have met with individuals of a family
who had an hereditary power to cure the disease by a “ line in Latin.7’
The commonest and most universal remedy for rose, extending from the
South to the North of Scotland, is the application of flour or alum over
the affected part, dusted on a red flannel cloth. Another cure was to
pull the rose herb, make a poultice of it, adding, however, fresh butter
to this. Wild geranium is used for the same purpose, and tea was made of
the Stone Cup, a fleshy plant growing on old walls or house tops, and
drank in quantity. In some districts, dry barley meal was preferred as
an application, instead of the usual flour. Digitalis or foxglove was
also applied, but whether in the form of poultice or medicine I forgot
to ask my informant. Let me now finally direct your attention to two
very common diseases, cough and asthma, for which the remedies are very
numerous, but from these I select the following. They all, however,
follow, it will be observed, the line of modem treatment, and are tonic
or anti-spasmodic. These decoctions are made of the root of the bramble
and pennyroyal, and drank. Meal and oil is a very common and extensive
remedy Horehound “tea” is given for cough, and is equally used in
asthma, as well as a similar preparation of a plant called “ceann 6ir an
sgadain.” Coltsfoot tea holds an equal place, but its leaves are more
frequently smoked for asthma. In some places a decoction is made from
the root of the garden rhubarb, whisky added, and the mixture is drank;
and another popular remedy for cold is “sage tea and honey.” Let me now
conclude what I have to say by relating an anecdote, in which the old
world and modern medicine meet. A distinguished London physician was
visiting a family in Strathspey, who had an old and attached female
retainer, in whom they were deeply interested. As a special favour, the
doctor was asked to break his holiday custom of eschewing medicine, and
visit the old woman. He did so; saw there was nothing wrong with her,
but pronounced over her some words, which my informant had not heard. To
the surprise of everyone, the next morning the old woman paid her usual
visit to the big house, and afterwards enjoyed vigorous, robust health
for her time of life. A year afterwards, the distinguished physician
again spent his holidays in the same district, but was seized with a
serious attack of quinsy. His friends were alarmed, and already
preparing to send off for help, w hen the old woman, whose illness has
been referred to, rushed into the room. She had heard of the physician’s
illness, and her gratitude was stirred. She felt she must do something
for one who had done so much for her, and hence her appearance.
Believing also that the patient, like herself, had faith in charms, she
began to repeat some rhyme, waving over the bed a cotton umbrella. The
scene was so ridiculous that, forgetting a moment his own troubles, the
doctor burst into a fit of laughter. The abscess gave way, and at once
all danger was removed.
Let me now conclude what I have to say by
repeating what Dr Masson has already pointed out, the great; value of
“old world” stories. Those who attentively consider them will see, as I
have already stated, that the instincts of primitive peoples are often
the forerunners of the advancement of science. I never meet with a
tradition, or a superstition, without endeavouring to find an equivalent
one amongst other peoples similarly circumstanced, and the true history
and development of a race cannot be perfectly understood without the
thorough appreciation of such facts as Dr Masson has so admirably
brought before us to-night. |