The Kings Drops – When King Charles II of England became a cannibal for good health & eternal life

Like people through the ages, I often spend time around St James Palace, the senior palace which is often forgotten compared to its renowned neighbour Buckingham Palace.

At one point the palace was home to that infamous ladies man, King Charles II. One of his better attributes and certainly one that fared England in good stead compared to nearly of its neighbours is that the King was a keen scientist and chemist in particular. So much so that he even had his own laboratory which he was much pre-occupied in his masterplan for good health and something like eternal life, Goddard’s Dropps or Drops as we would write today.

Goddard’s Drops were a very popular 17th century medicine. They were that good that as with many treatments in those days, theywere ascribed multiple uses; Goddard’s Dropps (also called Guttæ Anglicanæ or Guttæ Goddardianæ) were suggested for fainting, apoplexy, as a stimulant and also for bladder stones.

The medicine has been associated with Dr Jonathan Goddard (1617-1675), physician
to Oliver Cromwell, Professor of Physic at Gresham College and Warden of Merton College, Oxford. He was a learned man of science, some say he built the first telescopes in England and could manufacture complex lenses in his house. Perhaps it was this reputation that enticed King Charles II to pay thousands of pounds both for his soon to be long-lived subjects and of course his royal self.

The recipe was complex but the basic ingredients were: five pounds of human skull (of a person hanged or dead of some violent death), two pounds of dried vipers, two pounds of hartshorn, and two of ivory. These were minced, distilled, shaken, filtered and redistilled. The dose was seven or eight drops, increasing by degrees to 40 or 50 on pressing occasions such as apoplexy or lethargy.

As mad as it seems, there was just a touch of science about it in that they didn’t want to use the skulls of old people in case they were weak and would pass on diseases and conditions of the elderly. Young, strong people were best and with there being countless crimes which carried the Death Penalty, there were no problems of sourcing the key ingredient.

Not everyone fared well with Goddard’s Dropps. Sir Edward Walpole, MP for King’s Lynn, died after taking them; they “had very ill effects, gave him convulsions and a numbness that he was a most sad spectacle”. Sadly Goddard didn’t do terribly well looking after his friend John Wilkins either. Wilkins, the Lord Bishop of Chester and another Fellow of the Royal Society, also suffered with bladder stones. Goddard prescribed a Blister of Cantharides; the Bishop died nine days later of “Stoppage of Urine”. Cantharides, also known as

Spanish fly, was extensively used as an aphrodisiac; it inflames the genitals. Sadly it also inflames the kidneys, the likely cause of the Bishop’s death.

Charles II, who reigned from 1660 to 1685, was himself an enthusiast chemist and even had his own laboratory where he practiced distillations. In the story of the King’s Drops, the king reportedly paid six thousand pounds to Goddard, then a member of the Royal Society, who had received recognition for his distilled powdered skull recipe. He had also waited on Oliver Cromwell on his deathbed and acquired renown for his prowess as a druid of sorts.

Before his death, Charles purchased the famed distillation and began to create variants in his laboratory. Mixing it with alcohol, he would sip it frequently while at work. The drops were often mixed into wine or chocolate, and became popular for a variety of ailments. Skulls acquired for use in The King’s Drops came from Ireland after paying gravediggers on the sly to supply them. 

In his final days, doctors were pouring 40 drops of this miracle elixir down the king’s throat on a daily basis, but to no avail. Modern scientists and historians go so far as to speculate that the drops potentially sped up Charles’ demise, which finally came on February 6th, 1685. Though medical proof did not attest to the healing powers of this concoction, and neither did the tests performed on those who consumed it, the drops found a way into people’s medicine cabinets.

Not only did some of his royal descendants stick with the King’s drops as they came to be known, their use spread throughout society.

One account from 1686 tells the story of an Englishwoman named Anne Dormer. A cursory modern-day inspection suggests that she was suffering from depression of some kind. Waxing eloquently about the supposed benefits brought by skull juice on her mental health, Dormer stated:

“I apply myself to tend my crazy health, and keep up my weak shattered carcass, broken with restless nights and unquiet days. I take the king’s drops and drink chocolate, and when my soul is sad to death I run and play with the children.” 

Similar treatments later became popular particularly amongst aristocrats across continental Europe.

I find these sorts of subjects fascinating as clearly they are people of science but the methodology is so new, it’s just not going to work. Rather like the plague doctors who would go round London with their PPE clothing and long beaklike masks containing scented petals because though they knew diseases could spread, they thought it was due to smell rather than bacteria. If you couldn’t smell it, then you’d probably be ok!! And Miasma continued into Victorian times and indeed is what I label that weird post Covid smell that I had for many months and which still returns on occasion.