Lloyd Library and Museum Samuel Thomson and the Poetry of Botanic Medicine, Chapter 1

Samuel Thomson and the Poetry
of Botanic Medicine, 1810-1860

Chapter 1 The American Hippocrates

Samuel Thomson was born February 9, 1769 in the town of Alsted , in the county of Cheshier, New Hampshire. During his youth, the region was mostly wilderness, with few houses within view of each other and many unconnected by either roads or bridle paths. During his early youth, a widow named Benton attended to the family's medical needs, there being no doctor within ten miles. "The whole of her practice was with roots and herbs," recalled Thomson, which she applied in the form of a poultice or gave as hot drinks to produce sweating. In either instance, they "always answered the purpose." From the good medicine she practiced, Benton became much loved by the Thomson household and she took an early liking to young Samuel, inviting him on many of her botanical excursions, and instructing him as to local names and uses of plants as they traveled the region.

From the seventeenth into the early nineteenth centuries, domestic or part-time practitioners like Benton were an integral part of the American landscape. Ministers, wise women, midwives, individuals with local medical reputations, and itinerant healers shared the practice of healing with apprenticed and university educated physicians. Their reputation and authority lay not in their educational pedigree but in the fact that medicine, not so much a science as an art, claimed no single source of truth. Both rationalists and empiricists plied their trade with no clear line separating them. Both were just as li ab le to treat patients' maladies with dangerous regimens as they were to use more benign forms of treatment. The result was a pattern of therapeutics that defied any clear-cut definition. Healers were whomever the people trusted with their lives and souls--. As historian Joseph F. Kett explained, medicine was a "cunning" that defied formal qualifications or distinguishing scientific standards. Anyone who by example or word of mouth had succeeded in gaining the public's confidence was honored with the title "doctor." The business of sustaining the nation's health was shared by many, who either through self-selection or by invitation assumed the function of healer. Such was the role and function of the widow Benton.

During one of many excursions through the countryside, either in the company of Benton or by himself, Thomson recalled having discovered a plant ( Lobelia inflata ) that he had not seen before. He chewed its pods, and quickly learned of its emetic influence. For the next twenty years, he used his "emetic herb" in sport, to see his friends vomit after chewing it.

When Samuel turned sixteen, his parents agreed that he should learn medicine from a root doctor named Fuller who practiced in Westmoreland. Shortly thereafter, they changed their minds, giving his lack of formal schooling and the demands of the farm as reasons for their decision. For his twenty-first birthday, Samuel received the deed to one-half of the farm, consisting of one hundred and twenty-five acres. That same spring, his mother died of "galloping consumption," following an ordeal during which Samuel developed a singular dislike for regular doctors, having witnessed the effects of mercury, opium, vitriol, and other medicines on her weakened system. After her death, Samuel renounced regular medicine and pledged to rely only on vegetable syrups and herbs to maintain his own health. He continued to work the farm, but "being without women's help [and] obliged to hire such as [he] could get," he resolved "to find some person who would take an interest in saving [his] property." Not one to dally once he set his mind to action, he married Susan Allen on July 7, 1790, and a year later, she gave birth to the first of their eight children.

Impressed with the abilities of botanic doctors and realizing that his wife and family would require continued attention, Thomson arranged for a young medical apprentice named Bliss, to live on his farm. In return for lodgings, Bliss attended the needs of the family while Thomson, in turn, gained added knowledge of vegetable medicines and botanical practice. "Finding that I had a natural turn for medical practice," recalled Thomson, "he [Bliss] spared no pains to give me all the information in his power."

When his second daughter was about two years old and sick with canker-rash (scarlet fever) that extended to her mouth, nose, ears, and one of her eyes, Thomson took matters into his own hands. Intent on inducing perspiration through steaming, he sat on a chair, placed his daughter on his lap, and wrapped a blanket around them. He then ordered a pan of hot coals in water and vinegar placed beneath the chair. As the coals raised steam, they also raised his daughter's temperature and encouraged perspiration. Thomson repeated the steaming every few hours until she "threw off" the canker and recovered.

When Bliss moved away, Thomson provided for his family's medical needs from his own supply of roots and herbs. "Whenever any of my family were sick," he recalled, "I had no difficulty in restoring them to health by such means as were within my knowledge." He was certain that sufficient medicine grew in the fields and countryside within the reach of every individual. Still, Thomson had not come to any conclusions about medical theory or practice. This would change with the outbreak of measles in his family and his desire to find an agent to relieve the stomach of its offensive matter and reduce the irritability of the lungs and larynx. Recalling the effects of the emetic herb on his childhood friends, and recollecting its more recent action on the laborer who had felt relieved by its emetic properties, he decided to test its results. To his surprise, the milder after-effects of his emetic herb far surpassed the harshness of tartar emetic, ipecacuanha, and other standbys of regular medicine.

By 1805, increased requests for his medical advice and assistance led Thomson to question whether he should continue to farm or turn fully to medical practice. After consulting his wife and friends, and reading Paul's epistle to the Corinthians, he concluded that "every man is made and capacitated for some particular pursuit in life . . . . I am convinced . . . that I possess a gift in healing the sick, because of the extraordinary success I have met with, and the protection and support Providence has afforded me against the attacks of all my enemies." His decision made, he leased the farm, moved his family to Surry, south of Alstead, and took to the road to establish his medical practice. Eventually, he would set up offices in Eastport , Maine ; Portsmouth , New Hampshire ; Beverly , Salisbury , and Newburyport , Massachusetts ; and later in Boston .

That Samuel Thomson should become an itinerant healer during these early years of America 's growth came as no surprise to family and neighbors. He was just one more example of the new American who, contemptuous of old-world prejudices, acknowledged no sense of social inferiority in his endeavor to succeed. Thomson resolved to make his fortune and combined a strong work ethic with perseverance, opportunity, and entrepreneurship. This itinerant people's doctor promised to release patients from the tyranny of regular physicians (and the heroics of their bleeding and purging regimens) by offering cheap and kindly medicines from their own fields and gardens. Thomson covered thousands of miles in his work and the strength of his system came from speaking the language of the common man and breaking the swaggering pride of the mineral doctors with the simplicity of his method.

His travels from town to town did not go unnoticed by the medical community which watched with curiosity, and then with animosity, as he reputedly cured many given up as hopeless by local doctors. The diseases and illnesses treated by Thomson in these early years included nettle rash (St. Anthony's Fire), mercury poisoning, rheumatism, burns, cuts, bruises, consumption, and dropsies. He was known to be particularly successful with cases of dysentery in areas where epidemics of fever had broken out. His growing reputation only infuriated regulars who treated him with contempt and sometimes even malice.

As a traveling healer, Thomson crossed paths with any number of occultists, cancer curers, surgeon-dentists, apparatus healers, aurists, medical electricians, bonesetters, pharma-ceutical peddlers, botanics, and Indian healers. Many made circuits of the inns and public houses in the towns of New York and New England , relying on word of mouth, advertising, and various forms of self-promotion. Some, like Dr. Peter Davidson of Albany , obtained copyright protection from the New York legislature for proprietary cancer plasters and proceeded to sell franchises or "rights" to their use. Working on the fringe of the regular medical profession, Davidson, Thomson, and other itinerant healers managed practices that extended over several hundred miles and encompassed dozens of small towns and farming communities. Their circuits took many weeks or even months to complete. Historian Peter Benes identified eighty traveling healers active in regions of New England and New York between 1800 and 1830. Although styles and practices differed, their presence was a very real aspect of the American scene. To the extent that these itinerants stole potential patients, they increased both the competition and the rancor existing between themselves and regulars.

Samuel Thomson wrote this poem to express his feelings toward the three crafts: priests, lawyers, and doctors. Similar to what he later wrote in his New Guide to Health (1822), the poem reflects his strong opposition to the credentialed professional classes.

THREE CRAFTS
Described in Long Metre
(Sung to "False are the Men of High Degree")

Attend good people and draw near,
Till you this fact are brought to hear;
How nat'ral rights of human kind,
By crafts, for money kept you blind.

How selfish are the crafts combined,
Engaged 't oppress the human mind;
Physic, Divinity, and Law,
They chief of all our labors draw.

The nests of college birds are three,
Law, Physic and Divinity;
And while these three remain combined,
They keep the world oppressed and blind.

On lab'rers' money Lawyers feast,
Also the Doctor and the Priest;
Although their offices are three,
They will oppress where'er they be.

Men do consent like Balaam's ass,
To bear their burdens when they pass;
They ride men hard, and sometimes beat,
And drink their wine and eat their meat.

We greatly do ourselves misuse,
Our rights and liberty abuse;
While they do eat our meat and bread,
And give us poison in their stead.

They strive to keep the people blind,
With whims like these fill up their mind;
That they have power and full control,
Over the body, will, and soul.

The Priest pretends to save the soul--
Doctors to make the body whole;
For money Lawyers make their plea;
We'll save it, and dismiss the three.

This is the way the craft has gained;
When sick, we for the doctor send;
He says, "there is no chance to live,
Unless I deadly poison give."

When this is done, the sick grow worse,
Which takes the money from their purse;
He says, "I've great regard for you,"
But money is the most in view.

When'er the sick are like to die,
Call in the Priest, the doctors cry;
The Priest will come, and with them pray,
And clear the doctor every way.

He then doth say "don't trust in man,
There is a great and wiser plan;"
The one who freely by his will,
Doth doctors authorize to kill.

He says that man should not complain,
What way God sends death in his name,
If by the doctors, two or one,
They always say, "his will be done."

They also say, he has done well,
No man of skill could him excel;
His time is come, the Lord hath sent,
No doctor could his death prevent.

But nature's doctors have no chance,
No diploma can they advance;
The doctors cry out, quack and kill!
They don't allow such do God's will.

No quack can have a right to kill,
Unless he's passed the college-mill;
Should he the butcher then excel;
The people say 'tis very well.

Craft tell the doctor, make your bill,
And let the lawyer write the will;
And then to execute the same,
The lawyer takes it in his name.

Soon as the man is dead and gone,
The will is read--the work goes on,
The doctor brings a shocking charge;
The lawyer says it's none too large.

Because we three have all agreed
To charge the people as we need;
We claim the power and full control,
Over the body, will, and soul.

All three of us as one agree,
To take away true liberty,
And keep it from such people's hands,
As dare dispute our high demands.

Should any nat'ralist arise,
To clear the veil from off your eyes;
With all their power they'll run them down,
By crying quackery and clown.

If you would find where quackery lies,
You'll find the quack is he that cries;
And he must be a knavish clown,
Who would cry useful knowledge down.

We shall no longer disagree;
We know where quackery must be;
They must be quacks who do profess,
To cure with ratsbane, in distress.

Come freemen all unveil your eyes,
If you this slavish yoke despise;
Now is the time to be set free,
From Priests' and Doctors' slavery.

The craft is three in every stage,
On tory limbs these monarch's rage;
Their power is lost, we've spoil'd the tree,
Of Hartford tory monarchy. i

Did twenty lawyers there agree,
To form a great conspiracy?
The clergy met at their own place,
To bind us freemen in disgrace.

The doctors with the same intent,
Petitioned to the government,
To make a law to stop the plan,
Of equal rights in every man.

What could the doctors' object be,
Except a general massacre;
When chiefly poison they applied,
And most all their patients died.

What must have been the people's fate,
If the three crafts had gained of late;
Had lost our right to make the law,
We should like beasts their burdens draw.

In every town the college-mill,
The people by the law must fill;
They must attend each month at least,
The public chest must pay the Priest.

The doctors with the priests combined,
For to oppress the human kind;
And make their charges as they will,
The lawyer he collects their bill.

(Dr. Samuel Thomson) ii

Written by Samuel Thomson while in Newburyport jail in 1809 on the charge of murdering one of his patients, this poem circulated in a hand-bill and was used to explain the difference between regular medicine and the doctor's own botanic treatment.

SECUNDUM ARTEM: THE POOR MAN'S LAMENTATION

My wife is sick and like to die,
"Go for the doctor!" is the cry;
"Hast quick away, return with speed,
"She ne'er did more a doctor need."

The doctor comes with great perfume,
Like summer's rose in height of bloom;
His skill is spread on the outside,
And thus he gains on women's pride.

Near the bed-side, where madam lies,
He seats himself--"You're sick," he cries;
"O yes, so very sick am I,
If you can't help me, I shall die!

"A dangerous fever has seiz'd thee,
"And 'tis the raging pleurisy:
"I know it by your lab'ring breast,
"The load with which your stomach's prest.

"Stagnation of the purple tide,
"The tort'ring pain that racks your side:
"And higher still, I fear't will rise,
("I find it by your pulse, your eyes.)

"Lest the disorder I rebuke"--
So takes her blood, and gives a puke;
Thus make the foe his hat to doff,
Then takes his leave and pushes off.

At length the doctor comes again;
"Oh! what!" says he, "Not free of pain?
No, you've destroy'd for life all chance,
By physic, puking and your lance.

The doctor feels her pulse again,
And says, "the fever makes her pain!
"And quickly that I must subdue,
"I must kill that, or that will you."

To kill the heat, he nitre deals,
Opium to quell the pain she feels;
And when their office work is o'er,
Death knocks aloud at the heart's door.

The spirits muster up their force,
T' oppose the fell destroyer's course;
But with one touch, he ends the strife,
By putting out the fire of life.

The doctor says, "I did my best;
"I hope your wife has gone to rest;
"Your part you now must soon fulfill,
"That is, to pay my mod'rate bill.

"My bill is rendered in this way --
"Your wife's attendance night and day;
"To Physic, bleeding, drops, and stuff --
"Its FIFTY DOLLARS--cheap enough!"

Where is the pity they should feel?
They charge the same to kill as heal!
And crave withal the people's thanks,
And seize the prize, and leave the blanks. iii

In case of fever, see them come,
And the whole system down they run;
And lest the man should rise at last,
With med'cine's cords, they bind him fast.

The doctor says, "how still he lies!
"How fine the med'cine is!" he cries:
His blood is took, the fever gone,
And thus the killing job is done.

The fever rises, nature gains,
The sick man feels again his pains;
And soon about, this man would be,
Were he from such cold doctors free.

Should pain increase, the fever rise,
He nitre and the laud'num plies;
Thus to subdue and ease the pain,
He lowly lays his strength again.

This is what makes the fever run--
They nature fight, till she's most done;
Then her recover to work out,
They leave her, and the man's about.

They take their nature all away,
They bleed, and physic, night and day;
And the more poison they can give,
Conceive they've better chance to live.

Ratsbane and zinc and vitriol too,
And mercury to physic through;
And this at times, is what they give--
Tough must the patient be, to live.

Thus I have shown the death, in part,
Of doctors practicing by art;
Two thousand years they boast of light,
Yet deadly scales obstruct their sight.

Our blood and heat does cause our breath,
In losing these we suffer death;
And all the use in modern skill,
Of taking blood, but attends to kill.

From these dark scenes let us withdraw,
And view unerring Nature's law;
And this remark, that through our days,
Heat's life and health, in different ways.

It animates our frame complete;
The sun is life, and full of heat;
With the glad influence of his beams,
He cheers the earth, warms the chill'd streams.

Makes all creation joy and sing,
To vegetation gives its spring;
Corn, wine, and oil, herb, fruit and flower,
Are ripen'd by his kindly power.

Fish, fowl, and beast, in diff'rent ways,
Feel life and health in his blest rays;
But man, creation's noblest boast,
Feels, and should own his blessings most.

When fire 'bove water bears the sway,
It through the pores wastes it away;
When this is general throughout,
The man is healthy, firm, and stout.

But when the water overpowers,
The stomach's chill'd, and shut the pores,
The elements then temper well,
And health with you shall ever dwell.

Our Father, whom all goodness fills,
Provides the means, to cure all ills;
The simple herbs, beneath our feet,
Well us'd, relieve our pains complete.

While doctors rove in foreign parts,
And rack their powers, and skill, and arts;
Health's med'cines grow upon our land,
They're ours, by stretching forth our hand.

This art I studied from my youth,
And now assert it as a truth;
I can them use in different ways,
And turn a fever in two days.

How oft we hear the doctors say,
"The fever, it must have its way!"
If that's the case, I would ask you,
What good, they or their med'cines do?

Man is perplext, and much to do,
That has a talent forth to shew;
Much opposition he will find,
If 'tis against the common kind.

Must man be silent, while he's breath.
And hide his talent in the earth?
When nature urges him to move,
He not the gift of heaven improve?

Like Absalom, I'd sooner bear,
To be suspended by the hair,
Than silent lie, devoid of good,
And not improve the gift of God.

(Dr. Samuel Thomson) iv

The next poem, written several years after the trial, explains the hardship it had caused for his wife and family, reaffirms the vengeance of regular doctors and of his own innocence, and reflects finally on the sweetness of revenge when his accuser, Dr. French of Salisbury, New Hampshire, was brought before the same court a year later and convicted of grave-robbing.

UNTITLED

This world to me doth sorrow bring,
Though time is swiftly on the wing;
I hope the day may shortly come,
When I shall see my native home.
This prison filled with black and white,
And through the grates they yield their light;
Those deadly walls to me appear,
Like tombs of death or dark despair.
I've done no crime for which I'm here,
My conscience tells me I am clear
Of murder, malice, or of spite,
Which gives me comfort and delight.
My wife and children, dear to me,
This news to them must heavy be;
Will God of nature be their friend,
Till my imprisonment shall end.
I pity all both small and great,
Who are compelled to share my fate,
Unless 'tis those who sent me here:
For they are cruel and severe.
Vengeance is mine, all nature says,
And will repay it in his ways;
If this be so, then why should I
Attempt his laws to satisfy.

They've had their punishment or more,
My enemies have felt it sore:
Some had the palsy night and day,
Others compelled to run away.
At the bar where I was cleared,
My adversary soon appeared;
To his indictment guilty plead,
Who stole and carried off the dead.
He paid the fine the court did lay,
Soon after this he ran away;
His money lost and friends beside,
Returned poor, and soon he died.
Now Dr. French your rage is o'er,
You here will trouble me no more;
I shall for damage no more call,
Death pays your debts, that's due to all.
Old Haman's gallows has been try'd,
And the old maxim not denied;
Is measured back to you again.
Through all my years, about two score,
Was to acknowledge to my store,
And keep this precept fair in view,
Do as you'd have others do to you.

(Dr. Samuel Thomson) v

In the following verses, Samuel Thomson expresses his concern for a merchant's ingratitude in denying his cure, and a priest who swears that a certain man would be living had it not been for Thomson's medicines.

TO SLANDERERS AND PEOPLE OF IGNORANCE

I understand some in this place,
That are in human form,
So Judas like a deep disgrace,
Better they'd ne'er been born.

There's some, oh shame! that have confess'd,
When finding they must die,
No other means to gain relief,
To THOMSON they'd apply.

Saved from the grasp of sudden death,
They would his cure deny—
With their last scandalizing breath,
Attest it was a lie.

Can noble souls of real worth,
Their value so despise,
To pay respect to worthless shapes,
Who own their words are lies?

When craft's in danger, priests can swear,
Oaths seem like chaff or smoke,
Life's length in people they declare,
To give a deadly stroke.

You may find one as bad as this,
With A.M. to his name,
Who, to kill right, and help craft spite,
Now is exposed to shame.

People of such ingratitude,
Who willful crimes commit,
The devil is useless, so is hell,
If they do n't find the pit.

(Dr. Samuel Thomson) vi

The "Lady" author of this next poem tried regular medicine but was informed by doctors that she was beyond help. Encouraged to make her remaining days comfortable with the use of opium, she determined instead to live and sought out Thomson who restored her health.

TO DOCTOR SAMUEL THOMSON

THOMSON, great master of the healing art,
'Tis thine to turn aside death's pointed dart;
'Tis thine to keep the victim from the tomb,
And on the cheeks, cause rosy health to bloom.
The nauseous weeds can unto thee impart
Some power conducive to the healing art;
While many a shrub, and plant, and flow'r, and tree,
Thy knowledge makes subservient unto thee.

'Tis thine to smooth the rugged brow of care,
And charm to hope the ravings of despair;
'Tis thine to bid life's ebbing tide to flow,
And light new smiles upon the cheek of woe.
And can it be, that e'en the grave Divine!
Has slander'd thee with falsehood most malign?
Yes it is true, while envy, spite, and pride,
To injure thee their baneful powers have tried.

But thou shalt triumph, rise superior still,
While future ages shall proclaim thy skill.
To thee, dear friend, more gratitude I owe,
Than feeble language hath the power to show;
But yet accept this tribute from the heart,
More than my pen or words can e'er impart:
In vain I strive in these unpolished lays,
To speak thy worth, thy matchless skill to praise.

For thou, a guardian angel, came to save
A struggling victim from the silent grave!
The power of medicine I sought in vain,
Till thou by skill did mitigate my pain.
Still to thy labors may success be given,
With peace on earth and endless joy in heaven.
May faith and hope with gath'ring years increase,
And life's last sun glide gently down in peace.

(A Lady) vii

Written by unknown authors, the next two poems reflect the praise and flattery Thomson received from grateful followers of his system.

JUPITER'S DECREE

On high Olympus Jove reclined
And bade the gods attend,
And in their counsels, sage and wise,
To things of earth descend.

Great Juno first essayed to speak,
And of her wrongs complain;--
And Venus that her many charms
Were rendered void and vain.

Apollo then his lyre remained
In many a cause unstrung,
And that his medic art divine
To quack'ry's hands was flung.

'The couch,' he cried, for rest and ease,
Is now a bed of pain;--
My art divine, which once availed,
Is now employed in vain.

The mangled forms of thousands rise,
And cry for vengeance dire,
While victims still are offered up,
At quack'ry's altar fire.

The human race, that homage pay
To thee, thou God of truth,
No more attain their usual age,
But die in early youth.

The fairest forms that grace the earth,
The young, the proud, the gay,
Just meet our eyes, then fade and die,
Like blossoms of a day.

The tender ties that bind the fair
To brave and manly hearts,
Are scarcely formed e'er severed are,
As cherished life departs.

Must this be so, Imperial Jove,
Must thy dominions fair,
Be ravaged by the hands of those
Who naught for justice care?'

He ceased. The ruler of the gods
Surveyed the forms around:--
'Give justice,' was the cry of all,
And long the words resound.

'The hand of man must work reform,'
Imperial Jove replied,
'Give thou the means, to Thomson's hands,
Thy healing art confide. '

(A Botanic Advocate) viii

LINES ON THE THOMSONIAN SYSTEM

Deep in the dark and somber shades of night,
Veiled from the searching rays of truth and light,
Wrapped up in books, immured in learned schools;
Affording ample scope to rogues and fools.
Medicine, once pure as heaven's untainted breath,
Seems clothed in robes of misery and death.
But soon this scene of darkness shall be o'er,
And men be duped by "learned quacks" no more.
E'en now we had the dawn of that eventful day,
When these thick clouds that darken truth's pure ray,
Shall melt away before the living light,
Or sink in regions of eternal night.

The spark is struck that shall illume the world,
The sacred banner of Truth's unfurled;
THOMSON appears--upreared by Nature's hand,
A second Luther--sent by God's command;
Poor and unlearned, untutored from the farm,
To pluck from trampled herbs a healing balm.
Though all the "powers of darkness," storm and rage,
A ruthless war against the 'system' wage,
'Tis vain--the day is past--Truth's sacred light
Shall banish error to the shades of night.

(Anonymous) ix

The Georgian woman who wrote the following ode was reared as a Thomsonian. Her poem, which is sung to "Auld Lang Syne," celebrates Samuel Thomson's birthday.

AN ODE FOR THE 9TH OF FEBRUARY

Come, come my friends, and let us twine
Around the festal board;
But nothing stronger than the wine
Must in the cup be poured:

For tho' we're Thomson's steamers x warm,
Our stimulus is pure;
It ne'er has passed the still worm's form;
'T will not make drunk, I'm sure.

Then, come and listen to my song;
Yes, every foe and friend;
I'll promise not to be too long,
If you an ear will lend.

I'll sing you of a noble man--
He was no learned son
Of Aesculapius ancient clan;
Yet laurels bright he won.

He gleaned a balm for every pain,
From humble earth obscure;
He broke the Allopathic xi chain.
And found a medicine pure.

Behold! he gives a powerful drug--
LOBELIA is its name--
We've often proved it no "humbug:"
'Tis this that won him fame;

And we, his followers true, to-night
Will proudly chant his fame;
We seek no other day-star light
Than SAMUEL THOMSON'S name.

(C. E. S.) xii

Dr. D. L. Terry, author of the next poem, graduated from Worthington Medical Department in Worthington , Ohio , the first chartered sectarian medical school (1830) in the United States . Upon receiving his degree, he joined the faculty of his alma mater and taught as a devoted follower of Wooster Beach (1794-1868), the founder of eclectic medicine. The eclectics believed that since most truths had probably been discovered, it was only necessary to pick and choose from that which already existed. These reformers were botanics at heart and rejected poisonous minerals in the belief that the vegetable kingdom was safer and more efficacious in the cure of disease. Critics, including the Thomsonians, condemned them for having no particular system of practice and holding no set of principles.

Terry soon found himself opposed to the school's philosophy and changed his allegiance to the more tangible principles and practices of the Thomsonians. After resigning his faculty position, he proceeded to conduct his own school in Columbus , Ohio . When the school closed, Terry moved to Cincinnati where he taught briefly at the second chartered sectarian school in the United States , the Botanico-Medical College (1839), owned and operated by Alva Curtis (1797-1881), a professed Independent Thomsonian. Terry taught briefly at the college, but weakened by consumption, returned to his home in Xenia , Ohio , where he died. The following "Botanic Song of Liberty" is a modification of the tune, "The Tyrolese Song of Liberty" which Terry dedicated to Samuel Thomson.

THE BOTANIC'S SONG OF LIBERTY

Merrily every bosom boundeth, merrily oh! merrily oh!
Where the name of Thomson soundeth, merrily oh! merrily oh!
There the bloom of health sheds more splendor,
There the maidens' charms shine more tender;
Every joy the land surroundeth, merrily oh! merrily oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth, wearily oh! wearily oh!
Where the poison system twineth, wearily oh! wearily oh!
There the dart of death hath more fleetness,
There the maidens' heart hath no sweetness,
Every joy of life declineth, wearily oh! wearily oh!

Cheerily then from hill and valley, cheerily oh! cheerily oh!
Round the name of Thomson rally, cheerily oh! cheerily oh!
If the joys of health, won by bravery xiii
Sweeter be than pain, sighs and slavery. xiv
Round the name of Thomson rally, cheerily oh! cheerily oh!

(D. L. Terry) xv

The following author praises Thomson for his ability to correct the errors of past medical practices.

NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS

To ward of ill, to mitigate our pain,
Of sickness shorten the long, tedious reign,
Back from the shades to charm our wand'ring breath,
And save us from the icy grasp of death,
Mankind has toiled from the remotest age;
And all have toiled, from simpleton to sage.
Commencing in the dark, and forced to guess
At Nature's mysteries without success;
To trace a Cretan labyrinth of ways
To cure disease, with no sure, guiding rays
Of Principle, mild beaming from afar,
To Truth's bright opening the conducting star,
What wonder, if conjectures strangely wild,
And erring far from Nature's treatment mild--
A cruel course, the lancet and blue pill,
And poisons active, suited well to kill,
Should credence gain; and suffering nature yield,
And, finally, exhausted quit the field?
But see! at last, amid our snow-crowned hills,
Where purest fountains gush in countless rills--
Health's favored region through revolving time--
New-Hampshire's celebrated, happy clime,
Where smiles the rosy goddess, wondrous fair,
And with her breath perfumes the vital air,
A light arise, dispel the clouds and mists
The night born dreams of ancient errorists--
A light to cheer--a light to guide, and save
From the cold death-damp of the silent grave--
Which fills, once more, the sunken, faded eye
With Joy's own brightness for deliverance nigh,
A light from Truth's heaven-kindled, quenchless flame,
That flings a glory round our THOMSON's name,
More pure, more blessed, than the sickly rays
From conquerors' crowns, with dire portent that blaze.

The Year that now has wing'd its rapid flight,
To the long past retreating from our sight,
Has seen the triumph of this glorious cause;
Proved the supremacy of Nature's laws;
Seen tear-dimmed eyes their former luster gain,
While friends rose rapidly from beds of pain;
Seen fevers fierce sore baffle learned skill,
And dreaded Dysentery rage at will;
While the oft heard, the slowly tolling bell
Proclaims of Death's dark list the frightful swell.
Here is a ground for action, great, sublime,
Which men shall bless through every age of time:
To undo evil, teach the rising youth
To know and value our health-giving truth;
To feel that bounteous, wise, impartial Heaven
In every field and grove our life has given;
To struggle on for MAN and JUSTICE too,
And legislation giving all their due:
For this, our MESSENGER shall reach your doors,
While Thomson's fame careers to distant shores,
A messenger of knowledge, truth, and love;
That speaks of health below, and bliss above.
Kind patrons all, your good assistance lend
If you regard us as the sick man's friend;
And may the future be supremely blest,
And smooth the passage to our final rest;
Each coming year seem better than the past,
Till we all meet in perfect bliss at last;
Where sin's disease the Great Physician cures,
And moral health remains, while God himself endures.

(J. H. G.) xvi

Thomas Hooker of Hookerton, in Green County , North Carolina , first heard of Thomsonism in 1835. Until then, he had only taken mineral medicines and had been salivated with mercurial pills until he could routinely "wash a tea-spoonful of rotten flesh" out of his mouth. In desperation, he purchased a patent-right to Thomson's medical system and instructed his wife to mix and administer the prescribed six-step "course" of medicine. Following his instructions, she proceeded to steam her husband twenty times and successfully carried him through several courses of medicine. Both Hooker and his wife then practiced on their family, and after several successful treatments, received requests from neighbors for treatment. In tribute to Thomson's medicines, Hooker penned the following poem that Alva Curtis published in the Botanico-Medical Recorder in 1839.

UNTITLED

From Newton we have knowledge of the skies;
From Locke, the rules which regulate the wise;
From Shakespeare portraits of the human mind;
From Byron, all that's glowing, vast, refined;
And so we might rehearse their varied claims,
Through the bright volumes of a thousand names:
But there is one from whom a boon more blest
We have received, than those from all the rest.
A greater boon than knowledge song or wit,
That's far more dear; and all acknowledge it.
What that boon is, ask your enfeebled brain,
Which late so strove with misery and pain.
Ask yonder man, so rosy and so trim,
Just saved from fever, headache, wasting limb.
Ask what you choose, one answer will you hear:
"The remedies botanic," greet your ear.

(Thomas Hooker) xvii

Outside of the few who knew him well, Thomson was portrayed as a highly religious man. In reality, Thomson was a free thinker who fought established religion his entire life and saw the clergy in the same light that he viewed doctors and lawyers. All three had, through pretence of a credential, forced themselves on the public, sponging from their labor and hard-earned money. Thomson's religiosity, which he expounded in his poetry, was secular in nature and mostly private.

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSELF

Who is my Neighbor?
Thy neighbor? It is he whom thou
Has power to aid and bless:
Whose aching heart, or burning brow,
Thy soothing hand may press.
Thy neighbor? 'Tis the fainting poor,
Whose eye with want is dim;
Whom hunger sends from door to door--
Go thou, and succor him.
Thy Neighbor? 'Tis that weary man,
Whose years are at their brim;
Bent low with sickness, cares, and pain,
Go thou, and comfort him.
Thy neighbor? 'Tis the heart bereft
Of every earthly gem;
Widow and orphan, helpless left;
Go thou, and shelter them.

Thy neighbor? Yonder toiling slave,
Fettered in thought and limb,
Whose hopes are all beyond the grave;
Go thou, and ransom him.
Whene'er thou meet'st a human form
Less favored than thine own,
Remember there's a neighbor born,
Thy brother, or thy son.
O! pass not, pass not heedless by;
Perhaps thou cans't redeem
The breaking heart from misery,
Go, share thy lot with him.

(Dr. Samuel Thomson) xviii

In explaining Thomson's epitaph, written by the doctor himself, the editor of the Thomsonian Manual wrote that Samuel Thomson "was a religious and pious man; not in profession, bravura, display, but in his closet and the inner chambers of his soul." The various persecutions he experienced from the three aforementioned professions "kept him aloof" from being a church member. Nevertheless, wrote the editor, Thomson was "among saints and the redeemed." Unable and unwilling to play the hypocrite, he avoided established religions and received his faith in the same manner as he received his system of medical practice--"from God."

EPITAPH OF THE LATE DR. SAMUEL THOMSON

My body now rests in the dust,
My form from whence it came,
My spirit has returned to God,
Who only lent the same.

i. Refers to the Hartford Convention of December 15- January 5, 1815 , attended by delegates from Connecticut , Rhode Island , Massachusetts , New Hampshire , and Vermont calling for a revision to the Constitution. The report issued by the Convention included a statement of states' rights similar to the Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions of 1798-99.

ii. Samuel Thomson, "Three Crafts," in Cyrus Thomson (comp.), Learned Quackery Exposed; Or, Theory According to Art, as Exemplified in the Pratice of the Honorable Doctors of the Present Day (Syracuse: Lathrop and Dean, Printers, 1843), 12-15.

iii. Take the money and leave the dead body.

iv. Samuel Thomson, "The Poor Man's Lamantation," in Samuel Thomson, An Earnest Appeal to the Public, Showing the Misery Caused by the Fashion ab le Mode of Practice of the Doctors at the Present Day; With the Fatal Effects of Using Poisons as Medicine, and the Advantages of Following the Course Pointed Out by Nature; Using Such Things Only as are the Veget ab le Productions of Our Own Country (Boston: Printed for the Author by E.G. House, 1824), 28-32.

v. Samuel Thomson, "Untitled," in Cyrus Thomson (comp.), Learned Quackery Exposed; Or, Theory According to Art, as Exemplified in the Practice of the Honor ab le Doctors of the Present Day (Syracuse: Lathrop and Dean, Printers, 1843), 53-54.

vi. Samuel Thomson, "To Slanderers and People of Ignorance," Boston Thomsonian Manual and Lady's Companion, VI (February 15, 1840), 111.

vii. A Lady, "To Doctor Samuel Thomson," Thomsonian Manual, VII (March 1, 1840), 123.

viii. A Botanic Advocate, "Jupiter's Decree," Lobelia Advocate and Thomsonian Medical Recorder, I (January 2, 1839), 158

ix. Anonymous, "Lines on the Thomsonian System," Thomsonian Manual, II (May 15, 1837), 112. Reprinted from the Botanic Sentinel.

x. Refers to the Thomsonian use of the steam bath to encourage perspiration and "throwing off" of the canker.

xi. From the Greek word allion, different, meaning the use of remedies whose effects differed from but were not directly opposite the disease. The word was coined by Samuel Hahnemann (1755-1843), the founder of homeopathy, as a way of categorizing regular or old-school doctors.

xii. C.E.S., "An Ode for the 9th February," Southern Medical Reformer, I (February, 1845), 32.

xiii. According to Terry, it took moral courage to leave the fashion ab le system of medical practice and adopt the system of Thomson.

xiv. Terry meant slavery to the regular faculty and their mineral materia medica.

xv. D. L. Terry, "The Botanic's Song of Liberty ," Botanico-Medical Recorder, XII (September 21, 1844), 364-65.

xvi. J.H.G., "New Year's Address," Thomsonian Messenger, I (January, 1842), 49.

xvii. Thomas Hooker, "Untitled poem," in Botanico-Medical Recorder, VII (April 20, 1839), 239.

xviii. Samuel Thomson, "Love Thy Neighbor as Thyself," in Cyrus Thomson (comp.), Learned Quackery Exposed; Or, Theory According to Art, as Exemplified in the Practice of the Honor ab le Doctors of the Present Day (Syracuse: Lathrop and Dean, Printers, 1843), 55.

Introduction
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8

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Lloyd Library and Museum

Bringing Science, Art, and History to Life

Samuel Thomson and the Poetry of Botanic Medicine, 1810-1860

Chapter 1

The American Hippocrates

Samuel Thomson and the Poetry
of Botanic Medicine, 1810-1860