A History of Poisons

by Jean Henry Mead

The discovery of poisons occurred when prehistoric tribes foraged for food; an often deadly experience, or what would later be known as Russian roulette. Primitive poison experts were people to be reckoned with, and they either served as tribal sorcerers or were burned at the stake, depending on whom they practiced.

Our first written accounts of poisonings are from the Roman era over 2,000 years ago, although the Chinese, Egyptians, Sumerians and East Indians had practiced the art of poisoning for centuries. Cleopatra allegedly used her slaves and prisoners as guinea pigs while searching for the perfect suicidal poison. She tried belladonna and found that it killed quickly but was too painful for her own personal demise. She also tried an early form of strychnine but it caused facial distortions at death, so she chose instead the bite of an asp, a small African cobra, which produced a quick and painless death.

Those in some cultures were so afraid of being poisoned that they consumed gradual amounts of various poisons on a regular basis to build up their immunity to them. Dorothy L. Sayers, in her book, Strong Poisons, had her villain doing just that, as did Alexander Dumas in The Count of Monte Cristo.

Food tasters were employed by most royals. If they survived, after sampling each dish, the king would consent to eat his meal. The job must have paid well, or a steady stream of prisoners were employed against their will.

The use of poison-tipped arrows during the Renaissance period paved the way for modern pharmacology. Drugs such as atropine, digitalis and ouabain evolved from plant concoctions used for killing both people and animals. And we now know that thousands of people are killed each year with pharmaceutical prescriptions.

The Roman Borgia family of the fifteen century was a dynasty of poisoners, according to Serita Deborah Stevens in her book, Deadly Doses. If Casare Borgia were offended by something someone said, the unsuspecting person was invited to attend a party and would leave seriously ill or in the back of a mortician’s wagon. Borgia's poison of choice was arsenic, the favorite of assassins of that era.

Bernard Serturner isolated morphine from opium in 1805, but the formal study of poisons began with Claude Bernard, a physiologist, who researched the effects of curare, a South American poison the Indians used to tip their arrows. Chemical analysis could detect most mineral compounds by 1830, although not organic poisons. By 1851, a Belgian chemist discovered the technique of extracting alkaloid poisons while investigating a homicide caused by nicotine, a very deadly poison. Jean Servais Stas was the first to isolate nicotine from postmortem tissue.

The use of poison as a means of murder declined when modern methods of detection were perfected and physicians began saving many of its victims.

Life After Death

I dare say that one of life's greatest mysteries lies in what happens after we die. Yes, our body is worthless at that point, but what about our souls? Since this can only be answered in death, it will always be ambiguous to those residing in this dimension. Those on the “other side” must surely laugh at our ignorance.

All living humans fall into one of three categories: religious, agnostic, or atheist. Where one falls will determine their outlook on life and death. I’m not a church-goer, but I do believe in God, and talk to him frequently—cussing not included. I have escaped too many brushes with death to be a non-believer. I also know too many “ghost stories” to deny their existence. Perhaps that’s why I include occasional references to other realms in some of my stories. After all, good fiction always raises questions.

I’m not foolish enough to discuss specific religions since it has spawned continuous wars since man first uttered spiritual words. However, I am intrigued by the possibility of communicating with ghosts, and how they may affect our lives. Are there really people who can converse with spirits, or is this a fabrication intended to ease the pain of grieving for their loved ones? Is it possible to have Guardian Angles watching over us? Can people be reincarnated? Beats me, since I haven’t crossed over yet, but when I do, I’ll send you a note. Hopefully you’ll receive it.

France’s Duke of Chantilly was so convinced that he would return as a horse that he built a horse barn that rivals Versailles. (See photos.) I suppose it’s possible that the duke is still a resident there—assuming that once you’re a horse, you keep coming back as a horse. Or perhaps the duke had his shot as a horse, and now he’s a barn cat. One thing’s for sure—no animal came up to me speaking French, so if the duke was there, I didn’t meet him. Then again, it’s a big place, so maybe he missed me. How ironic would it be if the horse the duke is riding in the statue outside of his horse barn was actually him in his next life? That could make an interesting story, don’t you think?

There are so many questions about the afterlife that it’s clear every culture ponders it. Consider Zombie folk lore; do the dead really rise, or are they just doped-up believers wondering around—like Zombies? Did Egypt’s pharaohs continue their lives in another dimension as they believed they would? Again, I don’t know, but one thing is for sure; our fascination with the next dimension is bound to continue for as long as we live. And therein lies the mystery.