On a frigid New England winter morning, a sleepy student awoke early for another studious day of academics at the newly-founded Harvard College. A feeling of general ill fell over him as he groomed himself for the day. Attributing it to the cold weather and a bad night’s sleep, he simply carried on as normal. During morning prayers, the student fought back the urge to cough so as not to interrupt the reverent meditation. Throughout the day his cough worsened. When classes concluded, the student was glad to return to his room. Feeling the intense inflammation in his lungs, he turned to self-medication as was common in the early seventeenth century. He pulled out his copy of “Compendium of Meteria Medicae” to find a relief for his troubling symptoms. The book contained recommendations for suppressing coughs, and the student selected the one that he owned. Searching through his small collection of tiny glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes, he picked up a tiny amber bottle, clutching its wide shoulders and narrow base. Taking a sip, he grimaced at the bitter taste. The smoke given off by the candlestick illuminating his room only encouraged more coughing. The student blew it out and retired for the night, hoping a good night’s sleep would be the best medicine.
