Seventeenth‑century medicine at the Stuart courts mixed emerging science with providential belief, dangerous remedies, and widespread quackery, leaving a dynasty devastated by disease and infant mortality despite the efforts of celebrated physicians and the extravagant cures of the age.

Limentinus

What medicine was like in the 17th century

Jacques Premier. 1724 Public Domain.
Source: gallica.bnf.fr / Bibliothèque nationale de France

Health fads have always promised more than they delivered. My own experiments with high‑polyphenol oils for psoriasis, chasing antioxidants as if they were bottled salvation, echo the fascination of the House of Stuart with remedies that dazzled more than they cured.

In the seventeenth century, medicine was less a science than a theatre: a performance of wealth and authority, often toxic, sometimes absurd, and frequently grotesque.

Physicians prescribed mercury with solemnity, queens swallowed pearls dissolved in vinegar, and courtiers paraded exotic concoctions as proof of their sophistication, believing fervently in the transformative powers of these substances. What passed for cure was often closer to ritual, an elaborate choreography of status in which the body became both stage and victim, representing not only an individual’s health but also their place in a rigid social hierarchy.

The act of consuming these bizarre remedies was steeped in ritualistic flair, as each ingredient seemed to embody the very essence of nobility and refinement, drawing lines that separated the elite from the common folk. In this performative medicine, the distinction between healing and spectacle blurred, crafting a narrative of wellness that was as much about privilege as about physical well-being, creating a bizarre theater of health that showcased opulence and desperation alike, where the failures of these remedies laid bare the limits of knowledge in an age dominated by superstition and spectacle.

What was the state of public health under the early Stuarts

At Whitehall, despite the efforts of Sir Theodore Turquet de Mayerne (1573–1655), physician to James VI and I, the health situation wasn’t good. Mayerne documented his treatments extensively, including in his Praxis Medica manuscripts. Despite these efforts, health remained poor. [Dr. Paul Hunneyball’s 2018 article discusses many physicians of the time and is essential reading].

Into the melting pot of ideas, we must remember Divine Providence. Francis Rous (abt 1581 to 1659) in his work Diseases of the Time, published in 1622 uses a strong metaphor: society is sick. Rather than listing physical illnesses, Rous focuses on the moral and spiritual issues of early Stuart England.

He identifies vices like disrespectful speech, excessive pride, and a lack of courage as signs of a deeper national problem. Each “disease” comes with a suggested cure rooted in Christian faith and reform. His work reflects Puritan concerns about corruption and decline, urging readers to see faith as the remedy for England’s troubles. Similarly, in the absence of effective medicine,

Providentialist writers like Jeremy Taylor (1613–1667) in Holy Dying (1651) and Holy Living (1650) offered reflections on mortality, sickness, and preparing for death. Alexandra Walsham’s Providence in Early Modern England (2015) demonstrates how epidemics, sudden deaths, and “strange sights” were interpreted as signs of God’s hand

Physicians and apothecaries prescribed mercury for syphilis, a treatment as lethal as the disease itself. While Mayerne prescribed antimony, mercury, and opium, often in elaborate compound formulas as well as exotic imports from Venice and the Levant, sold at vast expense to courtiers eager for novelty. Nicholas Culpeper (1616–1654) Published The English Physician (1652), later known as Culpeper’s Herbal, which translated Latin medical texts into English for lay readers. Although, Culpeper wasn’t a court physician he was influential and his works are known today

Guy Patin (1601–1672), Dean of the Faculty of Medicine in Paris, known for his witty and often malicious letters, was a critic of chemical medicine and defended traditional Galenic practice.. His correspondence provides a vivid detail of medical debates at Louis XIII’s and Louis XIV’s courts.

Was royal health better than the health of commoners?

Sir William Waldegrave was Physician-in-Ordinary at the internationalised Court of Saint Germain en Laye. A Catholic physician educated in Padua, honoured by James II & VII , and part of the Europeanised Stuart exile household, dying in 1701. The Stuart court maintained the full apparatus of monarchy, including royal physicians, even in exile although the Court didn’t observably benefit from better health than anyone else.

Embalming became a fashionable obsession amongst royals. Rare resins, myrrh, and costly oils were lavished on royal corpses, as though preservation of the flesh might preserve dynastic memory. The results were often monstrous, bloated, blackened bodies despite the extravagance. In his *Lettres choisies* (published posthumously in 1692),

Guy Patin, dean of the Paris Faculty of Medicine, mocked the fashion for corpse medicine

“On vend dans nos boutiques de l’apothicaire de la chair humaine séchée, qu’on appelle momie, comme si la poudre des morts pouvait rendre la vie aux vivants.” (“In our apothecaries’ shops they sell dried human flesh, called mummy, as if the powder of the dead could restore life to the living.”)

Patin’s sarcasm captures the absurdity of 17th‑century French quackery, where powdered mummy was sold as a cure for bleeding, epilepsy, melancholy, and broken bones. Despite sceptics like him, jars labelled *MUMIA* remained a fashionable staple in Parisian apothecaries well into the century.

Was what the effect of high mortality on the Stuart dynasty?

The Stuart dynasty itself was undone by mortality so the physcians of the timere weren’t as good as they claimed. James VI & I had 3 infant deaths, Charles I too lost several children in infancy, and Charles II produced no legitimate heirs, leaving only his illegitimate lineage to thrive. The Stuart’s were apparently incapable of keeping their children to adulthood.

James II & VII and his younger wife, Mary of Modena, faced immense heartbreak as he buried child after child, enduring the despair that accompanied the loss of his offspring. Among those lost were Charles, Duke of Cambridge (1660–1661), who passed away at a tender age; James (1663–1667), whose bright future was tragically cut short; and Edgar (1667–1671), who left behind memories of what could have been. Likewise, Henrietta (1669), Catherine (1671), and Isabella (1676–1681) were heartbreaking reminders of a lineage that faced relentless grief, followed by the untimely deaths of Charles (1677), Elizabeth (1678), and Charlotte (1682), all of whom were taken from their father too soon.

Conversely, Mary II and Queen Anne, alongside James Francis Edward Stuart, managed to navigate the tumultuous waters of life, ultimately reaching adulthood. However, the legacy of Queen Mary and Queen Anne was marked by sorrow, as both women either produced no children or had offspring who did not survive long enough to experience the joys of adulthood, leaving their familial ties tragically unfulfilled.

Mary of Modena

Mary of Modena died at the relatively young age of fifty-nine years old, having been born on 5th October 1658 and dying on 7th May 1718 after suffering poor health patiently and piously.

Smallpox, measles, and fevers swept through palaces with the same indifference as they did through taverns, cutting short dynastic hopes and leaving the Stuarts fatally weakened. By the end of the century, the high death rate among royal children had helped bring the dynasty to a shadow of it’s former self. William and Mary did no better after in 1689.

The loss of children is a major tragedy for the Stuart dynasty, highlighting that despite many opportunities for an heir, a belief in 17th-century medicine could not help. Charles I had 3, James II & VII saw at least 9, Mary II had 1 miscarriage, and Queen Anne experienced 17 pregnancies with at least 12 miscarriages or stillbirths, leaving all her children deceased by adolescence. In total, around thirty miscarriages, stillbirths, and infant deaths occurred among these monarchs.

Portrait de Jacques II, roi d’Angleterre. Public domain – Bibliothèque nationale de France “Source gallica.bnf.fr / BnF”.16 septembre 1701.

Critics of the dynasty have sometimes said the Stuarts were “Unteachable”. In truth the Stuart‘s were badly served by medicine.

James II & VII and Mary of Modena remained as pious as ever, viewed by visitors as the epitome of what it meant to be an observant Catholic monarch in the 17th Century although infection and disease robbed them of their posterity.

There are solid contrasts between then and now. Seeds from an online vendor and oils bought in from Greece in the 21st Century may not be miracle cures and they aren’t sold as that. They are unlikely to actually poison anyone with adulterations from mercury, embalming resin, or powdered mummy.

Antioxidants and polyphenols are at least grounded in biochemistry, not alchemy or witchcraft. The Stuart court’s fascination with exotic and rare materia medica was less about efficacy and more about public display. To consume rare spices while alive or to embalm with costly oils when dead was to ‘perform’ wealth and authority in a public sense for onlookers.

Physicians still argue among themselves as to this cure or another, so that much remains the same although their debates are now conducted in the language of science rather than the language of Providence.

The anatomy of health fads, then, is timeless and we’re linked to earlier ages by our desire to be well and happy.. Ancient searches for cures reveal our human eternal anxieties. The difference is that today’s tonics are less likely to kill us outright, though whether they truly cure remains another question.

FAQ’s

Why were early‑modern medicines so dangerous?

Seventeenth‑century medicine relied on powerful substances such as mercury, antimony, opium, and exotic compounds imported at great expense. Without modern toxicology or controlled dosing, these remedies often harmed patients as much as the diseases they were meant to cure.

What role did Divine Providence play in Stuart‑era health and healing?

Providence shaped how illness was interpreted: epidemics, miscarriages, and sudden deaths were seen as signs of God’s judgement or favour. Writers like Francis Rous and Jeremy Taylor framed sickness as a spiritual trial, offering moral “cures” rather than medical ones.

Why did quackery thrive in the 17th century?

With limited scientific understanding and high mortality, people sought dramatic, exotic, and expensive cures. Apothecaries sold powdered mummy, unicorn horn, and human fat, while physicians promoted elaborate compounds to signal authority. Sensation often mattered more than effectiveness.

Mes remerciements à Gallica (Bibliothèque nationale de France) pour avoir mis ces images du domaine public à disposition. Leur engagement en faveur de la préservation et du partage des collections historiques enrichit un travail comme celui‑ci. – My thanks to Gallica (Bibliothèque nationale de France) for making these public‑domain images available. Their commitment to preserving and sharing historical collections enriches work like this