The hisÂtoÂry of medÂiÂcine is, for the most part, a hisÂtoÂry of dubiÂous cures. Some were even worse than dubiÂous: for examÂple, the ingesÂtion of antiÂmoÂny, which we now know to be a highÂly toxÂic metÂal. Though it may not occuÂpy an exaltÂed (or, for stuÂdents in chemÂistry class, parÂticÂuÂlarÂly memÂoÂrable) place on the periÂodÂic table today, antiÂmoÂny does have a fairÂly long culÂturÂal hisÂtoÂry. Its first known use took place in ancient Egypt when stibÂnite, one of its minÂerÂal forms, was ground into the strikÂingÂly dark eyeÂlinÂer-like cosÂmetÂic kohl, which was thought to ward off bad spirÂits.
Ancient Greek civÂiÂlizaÂtion recÂogÂnized antiÂmoÂny less for its effects on the spirÂit world than on the human one. The Greeks knew full well that the stuff was toxÂic, but also kept returnÂing to it as a potenÂtial form of medÂiÂcine.
Ancient Rome made its own pracÂtiÂcal use of antiÂmoÂny, not least in metÂalÂlurÂgy, but also kept up cerÂtain lines of inquiry into its curaÂtive propÂerÂties. As a subÂstance, it was well-placed to capÂture imagÂiÂnaÂtions more intenseÂly in the medieval age of alcheÂmy. By the late sevÂenÂteenth cenÂtuÂry, peoÂple were drinkÂing wine out of antiÂmoÂny cups, as unboxed in the video from the VicÂtoÂria and Albert MuseÂum above.
“The purÂpose of it is to try and make you vomÂit and have diarÂrhea and sweat a lot,” says Angus PatÂterÂson, the V&A’s senior curaÂtor of metÂalÂwork. In theÂoÂry, this would re-balÂance the “humors” of which medieval medÂiÂcine conÂceived of the body as being comÂposed. FanÂcy cups like the one in the video, which was once owned by a lord, weren’t the only antiÂmoÂny objects used for this purÂpose: the metÂal was also forged into so-called “perÂpetÂuÂal pills,” meant to be swalÂlowed, retrieved from the excreÂment, then swalÂlowed again when necÂesÂsary — for mulÂtiÂple genÂerÂaÂtions, in some casÂes, as a kind of famÂiÂly heirÂloom. “Not sure I’d fanÂcy swalÂlowÂing a pill that had been through my grandÂpa,” PatÂterÂson adds, “but needs must when you have a stomÂachache in 1750.”
via Aeon
RelatÂed conÂtent:
The ColÂor that May Have Killed Napoleon: Scheele’s Green
Sir Isaac Newton’s Cure for the Plague: PowÂdered Toad VomÂit Lozenges (1669)
Based in Seoul, ColÂin Marshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities, lanÂguage, and culÂture. His projects include the SubÂstack newsletÂter Books on Cities and the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles. FolÂlow him on the social netÂwork forÂmerÂly known as TwitÂter at @colinmarshall.
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