For centuries before the age of Enlightenment, paranoid royals sought protection in superstition, alchemy and quackery. They paid enormous sums, sometimes a proverbial king’s ransom for magical objects they believed would neutralize, expose or repel poison. The most coveted of those? The mythical “unicorn horn,” also known as an alicorn.
“Before chemistry was a thing, people believed that many objects and foodstuffs had magical virtues or properties,” says Eleanor Herman, author of Royal Art of Poison, whose research documents intentional poisoning of royals by their enemies and the protections they employed.
Rulers believed such items would protect them because that is what the most learned men of the time. Even normally rational Queen Elizabeth I of England was a believer. In addition to buying a magnificent spiral unicorn horn, for lofty price of 10,000 pounds, she was also known, to drink from a unicorn horn cup, believing that if poison touched it, it would explode.
“Unicorn horns” didn’t come from mythical beasts since, being mythical, they never likely existed. Most came from ttusk of narwhals, an Arctic whale possessing a magnificent spiral tusk that can grow as long as nine feet. These remarkable appendages actually serve as sensory organs, allowing creature to detect subtle changes of temperature, pressure and other atmospheric elements. The misnomer may have started with Vikings trader who, around 1000 AD, began finding narwhal tusks washed up on the beach in places like Greenland and selling them to Europeans. Trade strengthened during Middle Ages, when unicorn became a symbol of Christ and therefore an almost holy animal. By Renaissance, unicorn horns had developed a reputation as a poison cure-all, and their cost inflated to ten times their weight in gold or more.
European rulers became obsessed with owning the magical unicorn horns, which become popular as state gifts. In 1533, Pope Clement VII presented King Francis I of France with a magnificent horn mounted in solid gold. Ivan the Terrible had a staff made from one. Philip II of Spain apparently had 12. Royal Habsburg family placed one of their tusks in a scepter covered in gemstones. In late 1600s, Christian V of Denmark sat on a throne of unicorn horns, which went on to be used in coronation ceremonies for centuries.
Elizabeth’s successor King James I was a bit more suspicious, after purchasing a particularly costly horn, James tried it out by giving poison to a servant, followed by an antidote made of powdered unicorn horn. When the servant died, James believed he had been hoodwinked.
Horns weren’t only antidotes royals employed against dreaded poison. Some used stones etched with scorpions. Others placed gems such as emeralds and amethysts in their goblets. Still others sought protection from powders crushed from bezoar stones (hairballs and other undigestible solid masses pulled from animal stomachs) or toadstones (mythological gems embedded in toad’s foreheads that were actually fossilized teeth of extinct fish).
To stave off poisoning attempts, some royals took a daily antidote or theriac, to build immunity. Theriac ingredients included common foodstuffs like parsley, carrots, black pepper, cloves, wine, sulphur, garlic and honey. What’s ironic in all this is that royals, along with general population poisoned themselves daily in countless ways. Many people likely died of food-borne illness, due to lack of refrigeration and thermometers and hard-to-control hearth cooking.
The reverent belief in curative and preventative properties of unicorn horns and gemstones began to dissipate as Enlightenment brought advances in scientific experimentation. By late 17th Century, magic, alchemy and astrology were slowly replaced by chemistry and science. Today, unicorn horns can still be seen in royal collections across Europe; but now simply as an impressive decorative curiosity.
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