Samuel Thomson and the Poetry
of Botanic Medicine, 1810-1860
Chapter 6
Thomson's Agents and Editors
In 1818, Dr. Samuel Thomson moved his office and depot to Devonshire Street in Boston in order to better manage his business affairs. Over the subsequent years, he faced the task of protecting his multi-state enterprise against bogus agents, the sale of unauthorized medicines, and the misuse of his name. First with John Locke, then Elias Smith, and later with Eleazer G. House, Charles Miles, David Rogers, Horton Howard, and Aaron Dow, to name only a few, he tried unsuccessfully to find suitable agents for his expanding enterprise. Thomson even became convinced that his agents had joined in a Masonry conspiracy against him. Thomson filed suit against many of his agents, former agents, and bogus agents to prevent their trespassing on his patent and what he believed to be protected by federal law. Many of his claims were successful, and over a period of several decades, tons of unauthorized medicines were confiscated and thousands of counterfeit books were seized for copyright violations. In some instances, however, his efforts proved fruitless and he could only content himself with printed announcements listing all authorized and unauthorized agents known to him.
Nathaniel S. Magoon was an unauthorized agent who, with his partner Hosea Winchester, owned a four-story medicine store and infirmary at 554 Washington Street in Boston advertising the sale of patent-rights and genuine Thomsonian medicines. The following poem, written by Thomson, attacks Magoon for setting up a gull-trap on the unwary public. Thomson eventually filed suit against Magoon. In settling their differences, however, Thomson recognized the strength that Magoon brought to the enterprise and agreed to terms that soon resulted in Magoon becoming his general agent. Magoon remained with Thomson, and with the latter's death in 1843, acquired control of what remained of Thomson's business interests, including the Thomsonian Manual, the movement's official magazine.
A PORTRAIT OF THE CHARACTER OF
MISTER NATHANIEL S. MAGOON |
Nat. S. Magoon,
Like to the Moon,
Doth sev'ral faces [phases] show;
But said Magoon,
Unlike the Moon,
A "Gull-Trap" sign,
So large and fine,--
His large and sightly place,--
Are by this wretch,
Design'd to catch,
The sick and honest face.
At fifty-four,--
Five hundred more,--
Washington-street he dwells;
Ground chips and bugs,
With filthy drugs,
And stinking myrrh he sells.
Electric shocks,
To feeble folks,
This old impostor gives;--
Daubs liniment,
Of stinking scent,
And by deception lives.
Physic and pills,
This old quack fills,
Into his patients' throats;--
Palavers loud,
And tells the crowd,
His brain in science floats.
Nat. in disgrace,
Show'd Thomson's face,
To Messrs. Sargent--Coombs;
This string did pull,
To catch a gull,
To take one of his rooms.
His own mean face,
With a sad grace,
He afterwards did show;
They did despise,
His low-bred lies,
And from his "trap" did go. |
Let Doctor Nat
Come out--say that
He ne'er show'd Thomson's face;--
Or like a snail,
Draw in his tail
And head, in deep disgrace.
This old quack, he
Would Agent be,
Since Thomson did expose,
And on him fix,
Those knavish tricks,
The truth of which he knows.
His daughters fair,
And sons, too, are
Quite far from being bad;
A pity quite,
Such children bright
Have such an ugly dad.
Unto his wife, xcvii
Of virtuous life,
Who doth from fraud dissent;
He's cross--severe,
And quite austere,
Since he her cash has spent.
His drugs, so rare,
All mortgaged are,
His furniture the same;
His wife--too bad,
Some thousands had,
Which Nat. has spent in vain.
An honest man,
Squire Nat. took in,
As partner in his shop;
At two months' word,
From Mister Ward,
Agreed to cash his stock.
Six months have pass'd,
Since Ward has ask'd,
Fulfillment of his claim;
But Nat. his word,
Doth not regard,--
He falsifies the same. |
Squire Nat. agreed,--
A contract made,
His "Gull-Trap" to let out;
Infirmary,
'T was then to be,
And gulling all left out.
A writing drawn,
Nat. said he'd sign--
The man moved in straightway;
But Nat. "funk'd out,"
And lied so stout,
The man soon moved away.
This gull-trap Nat.,
Did once tell that,
He'd been "a country squire";
A noted man,--
did Justice scan,--
From office did retire.
If Magistrate,
As he doth state,
He formerly had been;
There is no doubt,
He was kick'd out
Of office, for his sin.
Ye ladies fair,
Of Nat. beware,--
Repulse his foul embrace;
Let him not kiss,
But at him hiss,
And thus escape disgrace.
Like William Platt, xcviii
Squire, Doctor Nat.,
To justice should be brought;
And all his crimes,
Wrote down in rhymes,
Till Justice he is taught.
(ONE WHO HAS BEEN GULLED) xcix |
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This poem likewise refers to Nathaniel Magoon, his partner Hosea Winchester, and Samuel B. Emmons, whose 176-page The Vegetable Family Physician (1836) listed 112 different vegetable medicines supported by their depot in Boston . Emmons intended his publication to be a domestic handbook unaffiliated with any specific system or philosophy. He avoided theory altogether, except for the proposition that botanic medicines were superior and less harsh than mineral drugs, and provided useful and inexpensive recipes for common maladies. Published at the height of the Thomsonian movement, the book evidenced the continuation of the botanic tradition in the United States that had both preceded and paralleled Thomsonism.
THE TRIUMVIRATE |
Come, lend an ear, and you shall hear
Events of wond'rous weight, sir;
If me you doubt--before I'm out--
The rest I'll not relate, sir.
A man did rise, for brushing flies,
To medicating pukes, sir;
And to proclaim his own great fame,
Forsooth, he must have books, sir.--
To gull public, requir'd "classic"
And learned gentlemen, sir;--
These, 'tis alleg'd, were quickly pledg'd
To wield with power the pen, sir.
The work began by this great man,
Did "natives" quite astound, sir;
The two did write, both day and night--
The third, medicines ground, sir.
One of the three--" Catch-penny" he--
A " Botany" would write, sir:
Though twice they say, he's receiv'd pay,
Yet brought forth naught to light, sir.
A second man, of this great clan,
Is full of learned lore, sir:
At any rate, so says his mate--
The one "what" keeps the store, sir.
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Third in this late triumvirate--
Though first in order--ranks, sir,
The great man, who, months past but few,
Knew less of pukes than shanks, sir.--
He does now boast "himself a host"
In making medicine, sir:
And defies all, "both great and small,"
To match him in this line, sir.
That all may know where's the "Depot,"
He's signs both red and large, sir;
And those who'd shun, 'may read and run'--
Or stomachs he'll discharge, sir.
Wherein there's blame--another's name
Is used, repute to gain, sir;--
And yet they say, from day to day,
"We're honest, fair, humane, " sir.
I've sung my song, so "jim along"--
But think of these "small fry," sir--
The man of books, and he of pukes,
And likewise " Botany, " sir.
(Sprig) c
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Thomson wrote this next poem (including the footnotes) to explain his accusations against former agent Aaron Dow who opened an medicine store and infirmary on Brattle Street in Boston . At the time of the store's opening, Dow signed a bond promising to purchase all of his medicines from Thomson or his legally authorized agent. Dow then proceeded to purchase non-authorized medicines, and according to critics, "milked" patients attending his infirmary. By the time Thomson uncovered the scheme, Dow had disappeared, leaving his partner and attorney with little more than empty promises and unpaid bills.
DOGGEREL VERSES: A PARAPHRASE ON A CHAPTER IN
HISTORY--OR, A COMPEND OF THE HISTORY OF MR.
AARON DOW
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A few years since--O! shame--disgrace!
A petty Broker kept a place,
In Fed'ral-street, I vow;
Young men and girls who sought employ,
Into his place he did decoy;
His name was Aaron Dow.
Intelligence he promis'd all,
Who at his office, there, would call--
A dollar pay--or more; ci
When he their money had obtain'd,
He has them sev'ral days detain'd
To tramp the city 'oer. cii
But oftentimes they did obtain,
Naught but their labor for their pain,--
And then return to Dow
And ask of him their cash again.
But Dow would say, in language plain,
"I'll keep the cash, I vow."ciii
At length he found, unto his cost,
Most of his business he had lost,--
Young men did him despise;
Young ladies, too, did pass him by,
And, with young men, join in the cry--
"The smooth-tongued scoundrel lies."
And when he could no longer live,--
As few would him a dollar give,
For being fool'd outright;
To play new tricks he did presume--
A Doctor's name did then assume,
And in these tricks delight.
At number ninety, Fed'ral-street,
A house he took the sick to greet,
And show his famous skill;
His blunders soon his fame did damp,--
His former dupes, cried--"Flee the scamp,"
Which did his business skill.
To Newburyport he soon did post--
Did puff himself, and loudly boast,
"No Doctor great as I;
I am great Doctor Aaron Dow,--
I'll cure you all- I'll cure you now,
If you'll to me apply."civ
With mighty zeal, he undertook,
To write down all the regular flock
Of old physicians there;
But their retorts, and satire keen,
(as from his movements may be seen,)
Made Doctor Aaron stare.
The odds against him were so strong,
He found he could not get along,--
His patients him forsook;
When eighteen months were pass'd and gone,
He back to Boston , then did come,
And a large house he took.
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He still continued loud to boast--
Himself the theme of ev'ry toast,
Which did escape his pen;
His patients suffer'd from neglect--
When they good treatment did expect,
They have insulted been.
His honest debts he will not pay,--
Unto his creditors doth say,
"I'm out of money quite;"
When in his pocket, then he had,
Enough to pay the debt--too bad;
To cheat, is his delight.
A poor young girl, who work'd for him,
And kept his household in good trim,
Her wages could not get;
Ten dollars due cv--away she went,--
He swore he would not pay a cent,--
She sued him for the debt.
As Doctor Thomson's Agent--he
A bond had sign'd, to faithful be cvi
Unto the Doctor's views;
His med'cines all, both wet and dry,
Agreed of Thomson for to buy,
And not his trust abuse.
Of Thomson he did oft make sport--
He trespass'd much in Newb'ryport--
Deception was his trade;
In Brattle-street, he did the same--
Sold med'cines in S. Thomson's name,
Which he himself had made.
He Thomson owed, in point of right,
A debt of seventy dollars quite--
He swore he'd never pay;
But wish'd the debt five times as large,
And which he never would discharge;
He'd sooner run away.
A lot of med'cine he'd on hand,
On which was plac'd "Thomsonian" brand,
(Prepar'd by 'Aaron Dow.')
Of this he gave a 'Bill of Sale,'
To cheat the Doctor without fail,
Then bragg'd--"I've fix'd him now." cvii
Stop, Mister Dow--not quite so fast--
For Thomson has nabb'd you at last,--
And well-secur'd his debt;
The med'cine was in Lowell found,
All snugly stor'd below the ground,--
So don't your gizzard fret.
Now, to conclude, friend Aaron Dow,
I would advise you after now,
To be an honest man;
With candor your past life review,--
O! virtue seek, and truth pursue,
And justice ever scan.
(An Observer)cviii |
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The next two poems were written by the Rev. Dr. William Henry Fonerden of Philadelphia , one of Thomson's more stalwart agents during the heyday of the Thomsonian movement. Both poems celebrate Thomson's birthday. Fonerden eventually joined the faculty of the Southern Botanico-Medical School (founded 1839) situated first in Forsyth, and later in Macon , Georgia . Until its takeover in 1854 by those advocating a more eclectic (liberal) medical philosophy, the college remained a bastion of Thomsonian thinking. Unfortunately for Fonerden, he was fired for threatening to prevent students from graduating unless they took private instruction.
AN ANNIVERSARY ODE FOR DR. SAM'L THOMSON'S BIRTH-DAY |
What flag is that floats on the Granite State 's height,
Its folds in the breeze now so gracefully streaming,
While far o'er the heavens, the silvery light,
Of a diamond-like star, insulated, is gleaming?
The tyrant, Disease, when its motto he sees,
Lets fall his barb'd arrow, and coward-like flees,
'Tis the banner of Thomson,--O long may it wave,
In triumph o'er death, and the gloom of the grave!
Say, whither so these,--the afflicted and wan,--
With hearts on which sorrow hath graven deep traces?
For them hath no son of relief ever shone?
Hath science no remedy sickness that chases?
Then whither go these worn down by disease,
Their eyes dim and lustreless, trembling their knees?
To the banner of Thomson,--O long may it wave,
In triumph o'er death and the gloom of the grave.
Behold where it flutters as the' eagle for flight
Just ready, and pluming his sky-cleaving pinions,
Its motto emblazon'd in letters of light,--
"Reform co-extensive with earth's wide dominions!"
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That motto's in sooth, the war cry of truth,
And birth-note of freedom to age and to youth,
'Tis the banner of Thomson,--O long may it wave,
In triumph o'er death, and the gloom of the grave.
Then join we the 'larum, with trumphet's deep tongue
Against the fell evils of medical error;
Till he, from his throne of security flung,
Shall flee, as if flying the thunder peal's terror;
Our eye let us cast, while the struggle shall last,
And e'en when the loud burst of victory's past,
On the banner of Thomson,--O long may it wave,
In triumph o'er death, and the gloom of the grave.
Long, long as we hail the return of this day,
(Old Time of our progress e'er keeping strict tally,)
A tribute of gratitude yearly we'll pay,
While round the firm standard of Thomson we'll rally.
We'll bless the glad morn, on which he was born,
And medical science of mystery shorn.
By the banner of Thomson, O long may it wave,
In triumph o'er death, and the gloom of the grave.
(William H. Fonderden) cix |
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UNTITLED
(sung to "Hail Columbia")
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Hail, New Hampshire ! glory fills
All thy vallies, all thy hills!
Like Boreal flames reflected forth,
It sheds its light o'er wintry North,
And East and West, and Sunny South,
As with one mind, one heart, one mouth,
In chorus join'd, the welkin rend,
As high their lofty notes ascend.
In noble anthems all proclaim
Thy glory in thy THOMSON's fame;
For Columbia as her son,
Claims New Hampshire 's honor'd one;
And in sweet, seraphic lay,
Celebrates his natal day.
Join we then the hallow'd strain!
'Tis Hygeia's blissful reign!
Her figure, dazzling as her throne,
Encircled with a golden zone,
Is faultless as Jove's queenly wife,
And redolent of health and life.
Her spreading kingdom boundless grows,
And is the tide of human woes;
And where a shade her sceptre flings,
Sweet music floats, and thus she sings:
Now Columbia &c.
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Why that burst of melody?
'Tis to note the Jubilee
Of freedom from dark Error's chain,--
Its rust pains food, and pleasure's bane,--
From fell disease, from ghastly death,
And from the grave's malarious breath.
Another year hath sped afar,
Yet in its zenith, Thomson's star,
Although that year is past and gone,
Shines brightly as it ere hath done;
Still Columbia , &c.
Hail, IMMORTAL CHILD OF FAME!
Long we'll wear thy matchless name,
Secreted in our inmost heart,
Till of his keen, envenom'd dart,
The sacred, talismanic charm,
Shall every foe of life disarm;
Till age the only outlet be
From time to dread eternity;
And when Atropos cuts the thread,
That holds thee from thy kindred dead,
May Columbia as her son,
Claim New Hampshire 's honor'd one,
And in sweet, seraphic lay,
Celebrate thy natal day.
(William H. Fonerden) cx
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Thomas Hersey, of Columbus , Ohio , was one of the earliest settlers in Ohio , and practiced medicine as a regular for more than forty years, including surgery in the United States Army during the War of 1812. In 1826, at age sixty, he turned to Thomsonism and practiced botanic medicine until his death ten years later. Although Hersey eventually repudiated Thomsonism and advocated the union of all botanic reform groups, his most noteworthy service to Thomsonism was his work as senior editor of the Thomsonian Recorder which began publication in Columbus in September 1832 under the general proprietorship of Pike, Platt, and Company, general agents for Thomson in the West. Devoted exclusively to the diffusion of the Thomsonian system, the magazine was published with the approval and support of Samuel Thomson to counteract the influence of former agent and later rival, Horton Howard, and his "improved" system of botanic medicine.
UNTITLED |
The grave, though silent, can instruction give!
Disease has thousands slain; ten thousands Art,
(Falsely so nam'd,) has hurried to the grave!
Merc'ry, the bane of life, is crowded down
the infant throat, as if 't were healing balm!
Custom has led the way, and book-worms crawl
Along the beaten track, nor once suspect
The show of wisdom folly has contriv'd.
Blind!--Leaders of the blind! lift up your eyes
And seek for light, that leads from ruin's brink!
Your Calomel, and all your deadly drugs, reject!
The world is wakening round you! Botanic
Doctors (sounding the majesty of truth)
Gain ground: the mercurial craft declines!
Thick darkness flies before Thomsonian light,
Bursting in glory on a long benighted world!
(Dr. Thomas Hersey) cxi
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Attributed to Alva Curtis, founder of the Botanico-Medical College of Cincinnati and editor of the Physio-Medical Recorder (formerly the Thomsonian Recorder and then the Botanico-Medical Recorder ) this poem was actually penned by another. The editor, however, noted that the sentiments were so much like his own that he was willing to claim it.
THE REFORMER |
CALM, and earnest, and unshrinking,
In his study, lone and still.
Sat the great Reformer, thinking
Of the past, and promise drinking
of the future's good and ill.
Mild of mien, but strong of spirit,
He had scorned deceptive arts;
Fashion swayed him less than merit,
And the fame he would inherit
Was the love of honest hearts.
He had met the world's derision,
But he yielded not to fear;
For the soul-inspiring vision
Of the future's bright elysian,
Filled his noble heart with cheer.
What to him were idle praises
At the sacrifice of right?
What were fortune's ruddy blazes,
Or the thrones which triumph raises,
Coming with a ban and blight?
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As imagination bore him
Through the flight of future years,
Doubt and error fled before him,
And a halo circled o'er him,
Bright as Heaven's arched bow appears.
Perfect freedom of opinion
Blessed the glorious coming time;
Virtue held supreme dominion,
And fair Truth, on airy pinion,
Traced in majesty sublime.
Thus, comparing past and present
With the future's destiny,
Hope still made his pathway pleasant,
And he sheltered king and peasant
With his broad philanthropy.
And at each successive viewing
Of the shifting scenes of life,
He was ardently pursuing
Truth and goodness, and renewing
Strength to conquer in the strife.
(Alva Curtis) cxii |
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Written by the editor of the Thomsonian Manual, this poem hails the founder of the botanical medical system, singing his praises and claiming his victory over death.
UNTITLED |
While others sing of strife and war
And hail the banner streaming high,
Urge on fierce horror's bloody car,
And shout as millions useless die--
Be mine to plead the cause of life,
And hail, with patriot's warmest breath,
The victor o'er diseases' strife,
Thomson triumphant over Death!
His hand has plucked, his skill prepared
The plants by which our lives are spared!
Herbs of the field! how Eden bright,
Compared with metals wrought by fire,
Ye are the day--and they the night;
Ye angel's love--they demon's ire--
Hail! matchless system--"one disease,"
One means to help, support and cure,
With nature's simple, matchless ease
Thou heal'st, and ever must endure'
Eden shall lose her mystic tree
Ere Thomson's name shall cease to be.
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I see health's banner streaming high,
I hear the shouts of youth afar,
Beneath a pure, and cloudless sky,
And lovely maidens sporting there;
Fathers, and mothers; children, friends;
Sisters, and brothers; lovers dear;
Gather where yon bright meteor bends,
Their joyful shouts the welkin cheer;
His hand the electric cloud prepares
And to the lips life's nectar bears.
They sing--"Come learn the healing art,
Of healing nature in distress,
To fill with joy the mother's heart;
To gardens turn a wilderness;
Come see the plastic hand of love,
Draw back the curtains of disease;
And pour as seraph from above,
A Pure and precious, heavenly breeze;
Disease, the monster, flies afar,
As night 'fore morning's rising star.
Eden shall lose her mystic tree,
Ere Thomson's name shall cease to be."
(Editor) cxiii |
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O. B. Lyman, editor and publisher of the Thomsonian Messenger in Norwich, Connecticut, explains the full measure of Thomson's contributions and fame in these next several poems.
RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE THOMSONIAN SYSTEM
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Awake! my muse, aloud proclaim the birth
Of such a system, as gives joy on earth;
A system, which, perfects the healing art,
In spite of every Paracelcian dart.
In vain have toiled, past ages, to improve
A baseless fabric, and the dross remove;
From Hippocrates, to modern men,
Systems have flourished and forgotten been.
Three thousand years with learning, pow'r, and might
They groped in darkness, sought in vain for light,
Guess'd and conjectured, experimented bold,
Yet, after all, their practice evil told.
In spite of pop'lar, theoretic skill,
Their best of poisons, would incline to kill,
Till SAMUEL THOMSON, like a morning star,
Rose and proclaim'd that “break of day” was near;
Shed forth his beams--his glorious course begun--
Soon usher'd in a brightness, like the sun!
Mark how the infant system, small at birth,
Sprang, as a grain of mustard from the earth;
And spread its healing branches far and wide,
In spite of Envy, Malice, Fashion, Pride.
Behold the rankling in the breasts of those
Whose interests prompt them, fiercely to oppose;
With firey anger, coursing in their veins,
Behold them seize, and bind the man in chains,
Into a vile and loathsome dungeon cast
The object of their hot, vindictive wrath.
At length, kind Heaven saw fit to interpose,
And freed the captive from his hellish foes.
Now, boldly on his philanthropic course,
Behold, he marches with increasing force.
All mystery his open heart disdains,
And scorns the mind wherein deception reigns.
With giant strength, his remedies subdue
Raging disease, and renovate anew.
The glad news spread, swift, as on eagle's wings,
His honest fame from Maine to Georgia rings; |
Alarmed at this, the sheepskin order rise,
With wrath and vengeance sparkling in their eyes,
Like paupers, flock around the chair of state,
And beg for laws to make them only great.
Thus, were they made a privileged class indeed,
And so by law, could blister, cup and bleed;
The “loaves and fishes” made to them secure,
They thought that Thomson could not well endure.
Undaunted yet, his master spirit braves
The mighty storm o'er opposition's waves.
To Washington , behold, he quickly flies,
And makes secure his new discoveries.cxiv
Once more protected by his country's laws
He re-engages in the humane cause;
His patients, like “a certain man who fell
‘Mong thieves,” were left “half dead” by calomel;
Samaritan like, he heals their poisonous wounds,
Restores their health on philosophic grounds;
The eye of envy, green with foul deceit,
Now lays in wait a chance to counterfeit.
False friends spring up with hypocritic face--
Run well awhile, turn traitor with a grace,
And fain would rob him of his hard-earned fame--
And in oblivion hide his cherished name.
Thank heaven, in spite of all these powers combined,
His watchful eye and penetrating mind
Their base designs have thwarted, with success
Yet lives his system, sorrow's sons to bless.
Long may it live, the cherished name to bear
Of him, whose skill has dried up many a tear;
Let honest men false titles all forsake,
The term “Thomsonian” plainly let them speak;
Pure to posterity be it handed down,
As in Columbia 's soil it first was sown;
And, then, will generations yet to come,
Hold dear a Thomson as a Washington.
(O. B. Lyman)cxv |
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MEDICAL POISON |
Medical poison!--scientific expression!
Coin'd by an ancient, ir-regular profession;
How vague is the sense, how pregnant with evil,
As well the term Saint might we give to the devil.
Medical poison!--it's a base imposition,
To feed to the sick to improve their condition.
No wonder frail Nature sinks under the curse,
When than the disease the remedy's worse.
Medical poison!--death lurks in the sentence--
Like Ignus-Fatus it's unworthy of credence;
It flatters so charming from danger to save,
That seldom its victim escapes from the grave.
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Medical poison!--many graves does it open;
Could the tenants be heard, a tale would be spok'n
More shocking by far than the annals of war,
More cruel and savage than cannibals are,
Medical poison!--do the doctor's oft use it
When sickness o'ertakes them? No! seldom they choose it.
Its effects they well know, and fear the "good creature,"
Preferring to trust to the efforts of nature.
Medical poison!--would I use it? No, never;
I'd prefer my Cayenne and Lobelia forever.
Let the faculty rage, and spitefully winch,
But let them not poison, or kill by the inch.
(O. B. Lyman) cxvi |
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UNTITLED |
Stern winter is pass'd, its scenes are now o'er,
Mild spring a visit has paid us once more,
All nature is smiling most lovely and sweet,
And seems, with a kiss, kind summer to greet.
The showers oft falling refreshing and warm,
We have in exchange for the driving snowstorm,
Yea, Sol in his glory sheds down his bless'd beams,
With vigor and life creation now teems.
The buds have expanded with fragrance full press'd,
And caused in rich fragrance the groves to be dress'd;
The earth in her robes of green herbage we view,
All crowned with fresh garlands of every hue.
The flocks and the herds, o'er valley and hill,
Now ramble as free as the murmuring rill,
While the warblers of air in unison raise
To their Author, sweet notes of heaven-born praise.
Come, then, let us go to the wood-lands and fields,
And glean from the foliage and herbage each yields,
Such balms as will truly our maladies heal,
And leave not a taint, such as poisons conceal.
The roots and the barks, the herbs and the flowers,
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Are fragrant with true medicinal powers;
Then why so indifferent, come let us explore
The kingdom of plants--examine their power,
Select and procure the safest and best
For the aid of frail nature when sick and oppress'd.
Alas! for vain man, how prone to invent
Such schemes as will cause him at length to repent;
To the mineral kingdom behold him repair,
And search for the deadliest articles there.
For what?--when he's sick to poison him well?
Or, weary of life, to the vis vitae quell?
Strange logic indeed, if to heal with true skill,
We must deal in those things most certain to kill!
Yet strange as it is, its fashion to bleed,
On Calomel, Opium, and Blue-pill to feed;
Yea, to scarify, blister, cup, and to physic
For fevers and chills, consumptions and phthisic.
A question with candor now let me propose--
Prevent a disorder will agents like those?
Let reason and judgment sincerely decide,
Unbiased by prejudice, fashion, or pride.
(O. B. Lyman) cxvii |
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THE HEALING REMEDIES |
Hark! o'er Hampshire's granite hills
Echo brings the joyful sound,
For mankind's distress and ills,
Lo, a certain balm is found.
THOMSON, Nature's noble son,
Now proclaims before the world--
“The work is o'er--the victor's won,
Health's true banners are unfurl'd.”
On his head Lobelia blooms,
Nature's true, unchanging friend;
In his hands Cayenne assumes
Powers designed with life to blend.
Bayberry, next in rank, will scour
Canker from its lurking place,
Steam relaxes every pore,
Form her disease will flee apace.
Bitters now the work completes,
Strength returns to every part--
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The invalid now comes forth to greet
Friends anew with grateful heart.
Mark his brow with gladness crown'd,
Since he ‘scaped from “learned fools;”
Hear him say to all around,
“Try Dr. Thomson's code of rules;--
Fear ye not, no poison's there
To corrupt the stream of life;
No, nor lance, nor blood to spare--
Purify without the knife.”
Glorious system! let it spread
Far and wide, thro' every clime--
May its brave and honor'd head
Live to see that blessed time;--
Live to see the monster driven
Into dark oblivion's shade--
When his chains will not be riven--
When his work of death is staid.
(O. B. Lyman) cxviii |
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CALOMEL |
What a hydra-headed monster!
Language fails to paint or tell
Half the ills that daily cumber
Man, from use of Calomel.
Health destroyer--happiness spoiler--
Dropsy maker--sick man's bane;
Stomach retcher--misery fetcher--
Blood corrupter--source of pain.
Eruption breeder--pimple feeder--
Skin defacer--beauty's foe--
Nerve unstringer--vital stinger--
Muscle waster--source of woe.
Bone upsetter--palsy getter--
Ulcer causer--corruption's friend--
Bowell trotter--liver rotter--
Pain producer, without end.
Tooth decayer--gum diseaser--
Palate eater--canker's source--
Tongue enlarger--saliva pois'ner--
Brain inflamer-- death by force!
(O. B. Lyman) cxix
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UNTITLED |
Whilst they with envy sneer at all we do,
Truth still protects and safely bears us thro--
Truth, like a rock, withstands o'erwhelming waves,
And brighter shines, in spite of hungry knaves;
What though they boast, and publicly declare,
That we poor quacks cannot with them compare,
That they much time in colleges have spent,
To gain their sheepskin and be competent
To Blister, bleed, mercuralize, and starve
Scores of their patients to an early grave;
What though they fein would make the world believe
That o'er our quackery they greatly grieve.
That in their hearts, for the dear people dwell,
Cares for their safety, which no tongue can tell;
That for their sakes unto the law they've flown,
Implored protection, till it had favor shown:
Go ask of invalids--they've not a few--
Who to good health have long since bid adieu;
With palsied limbs, and toothless gums they groan,
And curse the day that Calomel was known,
Detest the use of mineral poisons all,
And long to see the Paracelcians fall.
(O. B. Lyman) cxx
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xcvii. Rumors at the time suggested that Samuel Thomson was carrying on a liaison with Magoon's wife.
xcviii. William Platt, Esq., the notorious land-pirate, of Barnegat , New Jersey , was sentenced to the State Prison.
xcix. One Who Has Been Gulled [Samuel Thomson], "A Portrait of the Character of Mister Nathaniel S. Magoon," Thomsonian Manual, II (July 15, 1837), 144.
c. Sprig, "The Triumvirate," Thomsonian Manual, VII (December 1, 1840), 30.
ci. Girls were charged fifty cents.
cii. This was not always the case; but that it was many times the case, is a notorious fact.
ciii. This though not always, was many times the fact.
civ. I do not pretend to say, that he used precisely these words, as they here stand; but he did use words to ab out the same effect.
cv. She had earned more, which he had paid to her--but this is the amount due when she left him.
cvi. Fearful that agents would cheat by selling unauthorized medicines, Thomson required his agents to purchase a $5,000 bond as assurance of their loyalty.
cvii. His furniture and fixtures he had previously put out of his hands, to prevent not only Dr. Thomson, but other creditors, from attaching. Soon after he gave a "Bill of Sale" of the medicine, he carried it to Lowell and stored it in a cellar, where it was found by the person who was sent by Dr. Thomson in search of it, and was immediately attached; consequently the debt was secured.
cviii. An Observer [Samuel Thomson], "Doggerel Verses; A Paraphrase on a Chapter in the History--Or, a Compend of the History of Mr. Aaron Dow," Thomsonian Manual, II (September 15, 1837), 175.
cix. William Henry Fonerden, "An Anniversary Ode for Dr. Sam'l; Thomson's Birth-day," Thomsonian Manual, VII (1841), 209.
cx. William H. Fonerden, "untitled," Thomsonian Manual, VIII (August 15, 1842), 293.
cxi. Thomas Hersey, "Untitled," Thomsonian Recorder, II (1833-34), vii.
cxii. Alva Curtis, "The Reformer," Physio-Medical Recorder, XVIII (April 15, 1853), 123.
cxiii. [editor], "untitled," Thomsonian Manual, VIII (October 15, 1842), 361.
cxiv. Refers to Thomson's trip to Washington in 1813 to secure patent protection for his medical system.
cxv. O.B. Lyman, "Rise and Progress of the Thomsonian System," Boston Thomsonian Manual and Lady's Companion, VI (May 15, 1840), 206.
cxvi. O.B. Lyman, "Medical Poison," Thomsonian Manual, VI (October 15, 1840), 365.
cxvii. O.B. Lyman, "Untitled," Thomsonian Messenger, I (1841), l.
cxviii. O.B. Lyman, “The Healing Remedies,” Boston Thomsonian Manual and Lady's Companion, VI (February 1, 1840), 94.
cxix. O.B. Lyman, "Calomel," Thomsonian Messenger, I (September, 1841), 17.
cxx. O.B. Lyman, "Untitled," Thomsonian Manual and Lady's Companion, V (July 5, 1839), 271.
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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