If you're triggered by just about anything, don't read this.
Those who dislike inherited privilege will be entertained by this account of the last days of Charles II. it is from a post by Gregory Cochran at the blog, West Hunter.
It seems that there has been a little bit of progress over the centuries. The future Charles III has a thing about homeopathy, expensive pseudoscientific rubbish but at least it's harmless.
I can't help wondering whether the malign spirit of pseudoscience has now taken refuge in university faculties of social science with their endless crises of irreproducible research.
"Back in the good old days, Charles II, age 53, had a fit one Sunday evening, while fondling two of his mistresses.
Monday they bled him (cupping and scarifying) of eight ounces of blood. Followed by an antimony emetic, vitriol in peony water, purgative pills, and a clyster. Followed by another clyster after two hours. Then syrup of blackthorn, more antimony, and rock salt. Next, more laxatives, white hellebore root up the nostrils. Powdered cowslip flowers. More purgatives. Then Spanish Fly. They shaved his head and stuck blistering plasters all over it, plastered the soles of his feet with tar and pigeon-dung, then said good-night.
Tuesday. ten more ounces of blood, a gargle of elm in syrup of mallow, and a julep of black cherry, peony, crushed pearls, and white sugar candy.
Wednesday. Things looked good:: only senna pods infused in spring water, along with white wine and nutmeg.
Thursday. More fits. They gave him a spirituous draft made from the skull of a man who had died a violent death. Peruvian bark, repeatedly, interspersed with more human skull. Didn’t work.
Friday. The king was worse. He tells them not to let poor Nelly starve. They try the Oriental Bezoar Stone, and more bleeding. Dies at noon."
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