Test Bank Pharmacotherapy Principles and Practice 4th Edition
Test Bank Pharmacotherapy Principles and Practice 4th Edition
Test Bank Pharmacotherapy Principles and Practice 4th Edition
14. An older adult experiencing shortness of breath is brought to the hospital by her
daughter. While obtaining the medication history from the patient and her daughter, the
nurse discovers that neither has a list of the patients current medications or prescriptions.
All the patient has is a weekly pill dispenser that contains four different pills. The
prescriptions are filled through the local pharmacy. Which resource(s) would be appropriate
to use in determining the medication names and doses? (Select all that apply.)
a. MartindaleThe Complete Drug Reference
b. Physicians Desk Reference Section
4 c. Senior citizens center
d. Patients home pharmacy
15. The nurse planning patient teaching regarding drug names would include
which statement(s)? (Select all that apply.)
a. Most drug companies place their products on the market under generic names.
The official name is the name under which the drug is listed by the U.S. Food and Drug
b. Administration (FDA).
c. Brand names are easier to pronounce, spell, and remember.
d. The first letter of the generic name is not capitalized.
e. The chemical name is most meaningful to the patient.
16. When categorizing, the nurse is aware that which drug(s) would be considered Schedule
II? (Select all that apply.)
a. Marijuana
b. Percodan
c.
Amphetamines d.
Fiorinal
e. Flurazepam
Answers
1. C
2. C
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the Long Rooms of Bagnigge Wells, White Conduit House, and the
Pantheon the strains of an organ, if the magistrates allowed the
performance, might also be enjoyed.
The season at most of the London gardens began in April or May,
and lasted till August or September. The principal gardens were
open during the week (not, regularly, on Sundays) on three or more
days, and those of the Vauxhall type were usually evening resorts.
Much depended, it need hardly be said, upon the state of the
weather, and sometimes the opening for the season had to be
postponed. When the rain came, the fireworks were hopelessly
soaked and people took refuge as they could under an awning or a
colonnade or in a Great Room. A writer in The Connoisseur of 1755
(May 15th) only too justly remarks that our Northern climate will
hardly allow us to indulge in the pleasures of a garden so feelingly
described by the poets: “We dare not lay ourselves on the damp
ground in shady groves or by the purling stream,” unless at least “we
fortify our insides against the cold by good substantial eating and
drinking. For this reason the extreme costliness of the provisions at
our public gardens has been grievously complained of by those
gentry to whom a supper at these places is as necessary a part of
the entertainment as the singing or the fireworks.” More than seventy
years later Tom Moore (Diary, August 21st, 1829) describes the
misery of a wet and chilly August night at Vauxhall—the gardens
illuminated but empty, and the proprietor comparing the scene to the
deserts of Arabia. On this occasion, Moore and his friends supped
between twelve and one, and had some burnt port to warm
themselves.
The charge for admission at Vauxhall, Marylebone Gardens, and
Cuper’s was generally not less than a shilling. Ranelagh charged
half-a-crown, but this payment always included “the elegant regale”
of tea, coffee, and bread and butter. The proprietors of the various
Wells made a regular charge of threepence or more for drinking the
water at the springs and pump rooms. At some of the smaller
gardens a charge of sixpence or a shilling might be made for
admission, but the visitor on entering was presented with a metal
check which enabled him to recover the whole or part of his outlay in
the form of refreshments.
Vauxhall, Marylebone, Cuper’s, and Ranelagh often numbered
among their frequenters people of rank and fashion, who subscribed
for season-tickets, but (with the possible exception of Ranelagh)
were by no means exclusive or select. The Tea-gardens, and, as a
rule, the Wells, had an aristocracy of aldermen and merchants,
young ensigns and templars, and were the chosen resorts of the
prentice, the sempstress, and the small shop-keeper.
The proprietors of gardens open in the evening found it necessary
to provide (or to announce that they provided) for the safe convoy of
their visitors after nightfall. Sadler’s Wells advertised “it will be
moonlight,” and provided horse patrols to the West End and the City.
The proprietor of Belsize House, Hampstead, professed to maintain
a body of thirty stout fellows “to patrol timid females or other.”
Vauxhall—in its early days usually approached by water—seems to
have been regarded as safe, but Ranelagh and the Marylebone
Gardens maintained regular escorts.
In the principal gardens, watchmen and “vigilant officers” were
always supposed to be in attendance to keep order and to exclude
undesirable visitors. Unsparing denunciation of the morals of the
chief gardens, such as is found in the lofty pages of Noorthouck,
must, I am inclined to think, be regarded as rhetorical, and to a great
extent unwarranted. On the other hand, one can hardly accept
without a smile the statement of a Vauxhall guide-book of 1753, that
“even Bishops have been seen in this Recess without injuring their
character,” for it cannot be denied that the vigilant officers had
enough to do. There were sometimes scenes and affrays in the
gardens, and Vauxhall and Cuper’s were favourite hunting-grounds
of the London pickpocket. At the opening Ridotto at Vauxhall (1732)
a man stole fifty guineas from a masquerader, but here the
watchman was equal to the occasion, and “the rogue was taken in
the fact.” At Cuper’s on a firework night a pickpocket or two might be
caught, but it was ten to one that they would be rescued on their way
to justice by their confederates in St. George’s Fields.
The dubious character of some of the female frequenters of the
best known gardens has been necessarily indicated in our detailed
accounts of these gardens, though always, it is hoped, in a way not
likely to cause offence. The best surety for good conduct at a public
garden was, after all, the character of the great mass of its
frequenters, and it is obvious that they were decent people enough,
however wanting in graces of good-breeding and refinement.
Moreover, from the end of the year 1752, when the Act was passed
requiring London gardens and other places where music and
dancing took place to be under a license, it was generally the
interest of the proprietor to preserve good order for fear of sharing
the fate of Cuper’s, which was unable to obtain a renewal of its
license after 1752, and had to be carried on as a mere tea-garden.
The only places, perhaps, at which disreputable visitors were
distinctly welcome were those garish evening haunts in St. George’s
Fields, the Dog and Duck, the Temples of Flora and Apollo and the
Flora Tea-Gardens. All these were suppressed or lost their license
before the end of the eighteenth century.
Of the more important gardens, Marylebone and Cuper’s ceased
to exist before the close of the last century. Ranelagh survived till
1803 and Vauxhall till 1859. Finch’s Grotto practically came to an
end about 1773 and Bermondsey Spa about 1804. Many of the
eighteenth-century tea-gardens lasted almost to our own time, but
the original character of such places as Bagnigge Wells (closed
1841), White Conduit House (closed 1849), and Highbury Barn
(closed 1871) was greatly altered.
During the first thirty or forty years of the nineteenth century
numerous gardens, large and small, were flourishing in or near
London. Some of these, like Bagnigge Wells, had been well-known
gardens in the eighteenth century, while the origin of others, such as
Chalk Farm, Camberwell Grove House, the Rosemary Branch
Gardens at Islington, or rather Hoxton, the Mermaid Gardens,
Hackney, and the Montpelier Gardens, Walworth, may be probably,
or certainly, traced to the last century. These last-mentioned places,
however, had little or no importance as public gardens till the
nineteenth century, and have not been described in the present
work.
Many new gardens came into existence, and of these the best
known are the Surrey Zoological Gardens (1831–1856); Rosherville
(established 1837); Cremorne (circ. 1843–1877); and the Eagle
Tavern and Gardens (circ. 1825–1882), occupying the quiet domain
of the old Shepherd and Shepherdess.
The sale of Vauxhall Gardens in August 1859, or perhaps the
closing of Highbury Barn in 1871, may be held to mark the final
disappearance of the London Pleasure Gardens of the eighteenth
century. “St. George’s Fields are fields no more!” and hardly a tree or
shrub recalls these vanished pleasances of our forefathers. The site
of Ranelagh is still, indeed, a garden, and Hampstead has its spring
and Well Walk. But the Sadler’s Wells of 1765 exists only in its
theatre, and its gardens are gone, its spring forgotten, and its New
River covered in. The public-house, which in London dies hard, has
occupied the site, and preserved the name of several eighteenth-
century gardens, including the London Spa, Bagnigge Wells, White
Conduit House and the Adam and Eve, Tottenham Court, but the
gardens themselves have been completely swept away.
Vauxhall, Belsize House, and the Spa Fields Pantheon, none of
them in their day examples of austere morality, are now represented
by three churches. From the Marylebone Gardens, the Marylebone
Music Hall may be said to have been evolved. Pancras Wells are
lost in the extended terminus of the Midland Railway, and the
Waterloo Road runs over the centre of Cuper’s Gardens. Finch’s
Grotto, after having been a burial ground and a workhouse, is now
the headquarters of our London Fire Brigade. Copenhagen House
with its fields is the great Metropolitan Cattle Market. The Three Hats
is a bank; Dobney’s Bowling Green, a small court; the Temple of
Apollo, an engineer’s factory, and the sign of the Dog and Duck is
built into the walls of Bedlam.
PLAN
showing distribution of the
London Pleasure Gardens.
I
Richard Temple
Viscount Cobham, &c.
Walker & Equtall Ph Sc
But the chief attraction was the Walks; the promenade where the
beau strutted with his long sword beribboned with scarlet, and ladies
fragrant with Powder of Orange and Jessamine discussed one
another and the fashions:—
Lord! madam, did you e’er behold
(Says one) a dress so very old?
Sure that commode was made, i’ faith,
In days of Queen Elizabeth;
Or else it was esteemed the fashion
At Charles the Second’s coronation:
The lady, by her mantua’s forebody,
Sure takes a pride to dress like nobody.[12]
The same mixed company thus frequented the Spa as of old, and
when my Lord Cobham honoured the garden with a visit, there were
light-fingered knaves at hand to relieve him of his gold repeater. The
physician who at this time attended at the Well was “Dr.” Misaubin,
famous for his pills, and for his design to ruin the University of
Cambridge (which had refused him a doctor’s degree) by sending his
son to the University of Oxford. Among the habitués of the garden
was an eccentric person named Martin, known as the Tunbridge
Knight. He wore a yellow cockade and carried a hawk on his fist,
which he named Royal Jack, out of respect to the Royal Family.
ISLINGTON SPA IN 1733. BY GEORGE BICKHAM.
[Listen]
[Listen]
Fashion probably soon again deserted the Spa; but from about
1750 to 1770 it was a good deal frequented by water-drinkers and
visitors who lodged for a time at the Wells. One young lady of good
family, who was on a visit to London in June 1753, wrote home to
her friends[15] that New Tunbridge Wells was “a very pretty
Romantick place,” and the water “very much like Bath water, but
makes one vastly cold and Hungary.” A ticket costing eighteenpence
gave admission to the public breakfasting[16] and to the dancing from
eleven to three. It was endeavoured to preserve the most perfect
decorum, and no person of exceptionable character was to be
admitted to the ball-room.[17] This invitation to the dance reads oddly
at a time when the Spa was being industriously recommended to the
gouty, the nervous, the weak-kneed, and the stiff-jointed.[18]
In 1770 the Spa was taken by Mr. John Holland, and from that
year, or somewhat earlier, the place was popular as an afternoon
tea-garden. The “Sunday Rambler” describes it as genteel, but
judging from George Colman’s farce, The Spleen; or Islington Spa
(first acted in 1776), its gentility was that of publicans and
tradesmen. “The Spa (says Mrs. Rubrick) grows as genteel as
Tunbridge, Brighthelmstone, Southampton or Margate. Live in the
most social way upon earth: all the company acquainted with each
other. Walks, balls, raffles and subscriptions. Mrs. Jenkins of the
Three Blue Balls, Mrs. Rummer and family from the King’s Arms;
and several other people of condition, to be there this season! And
then Eliza’s wedding, you know, was owing to the Spa. Oh, the
watering-places are the only places to get young women lovers and
husbands!”
In 1777, Holland became bankrupt, and next year a Mr. John
Howard opened the gardens in the morning and afternoon, charging
the water-drinkers sixpence or threepence, or a guinea subscription.
He enriched the place with a bowling-green[19] and with a series of
“astronomical lectures in Lent, accompanied by an orrery.” A band
played in the morning, and the afternoon tea-drinking sometimes
(1784) took place to the accompaniment of French horns.[20] Sir
John Hawkins, the author of The History of Music, frequented the
Spa for his health in 1789. On returning home after drinking the
water one day in May (Wednesday 20th, 1789) he complained of a
pain in his head and died the next morning of a fever in the brain.
“Whether (as a journalist of the time observes) it was owing to the
mineral spring being taken when the blood was in an improper state
to receive its salubrious effect, or whether it was the sudden
visitation of Providence, the sight of the human mind is incompetent
to discover.”
The Spa continued to be resorted to till the beginning of the
present century when the water and tea-drinking began to lose their
attractions. The author of Londinium redivivum, writing about 1803,
[21] speaks, however, of the gardens with enthusiasm as “really very
beautiful, particularly at the entrance. Pedestals and vases are
grouped with taste under some extremely picturesque trees, whose
foliage (is) seen to much advantage from the neighbouring fields.” At
last, about 1810, the proprietor, Howard, pulled down the greater
part of the old coffee-house,[22] and the gardens were curtailed by
the formation of Charlotte Street (now Thomas Street). At the same
time the old entrance to the gardens, facing the New River Head,
was removed for the building of Eliza Place.[23] A new entrance was
then made in Lloyd’s Row, and the proprietor lived in a house
adjoining. A later proprietor, named Hardy, opened the gardens in
1826 as a Spa only. The old Well was enclosed, as formerly, by
grotto work and the garden walks were still pleasant. Finally in 1840,
the two rows of houses called Spa Cottages were built upon the site
of the gardens.
A surgeon named Molloy, who resided about 1840–1842 in the
proprietor’s house in Lloyd’s Row, preserved the Well, and by printed
circulars invited invalids to drink the water for an annual subscription
of one guinea, or for sixpence each visit. In Molloy’s time the Well
was contained in an outbuilding attached to the east side of his
house. The water was not advertised after his tenancy, though it
continued to flow as late as 1860. In the autumn of 1894, the writers
of this volume visited the house and found the outbuilding occupied
as a dwelling-room of a very humble description. Standing in this
place it was impossible to realise that we were within a few feet of
the famous Well. A door, which we had imagined on entering to be
the door of a cupboard, proved to be the entrance to a small cellar
two or three steps below the level of the room. Here, indeed, we
found the remains of the grotto that had once adorned the Well, but
the healing spring no longer flowed.[24]
Eliza Place was swept away for the formation of Rosebery
Avenue, and the two northernmost plots of the three little public
gardens, opened by the London County Council on 31 July, 1895,[25]
as Spa Green, are now on part of the site of the old Spa. The Spa
Cottages still remain, as well as the proprietor’s house in Lloyd’s
Row, and beneath the coping-stone of the last-named the passer-by
may read the inscription cut in bold letters: Islington Spa or New
Tunbridge Wells.
[Besides the authorities cited in the text and notes and in the
account in Pinks’s Clerkenwell, p. 398, ff., the following may be
mentioned:—Experimental observations on the water of the mineral
spring near Islington commonly called New Tunbridge Wells. London,
1751, 8vo; another ed., 1773, 8vo (the Brit. Mus. copy of the latter
contains some newspaper cuttings); Dodsley’s London, 1761, s.v.
“Islington”; Kearsley’s Strangers’ Guide, s.v. “Islington”; Lewis’s
Islington; Gent. Mag. 1813, pt. 2, p. 554, ff.; advertisements, &c., in
Percival’s Sadler’s Wells Collection and in W. Coll.; Wheatley’s
London, ii. 268, and iii. p. 199.]
VIEWS.
1. View of the gardens, coffee-house, &c., engraved frontispiece to
Lockman’s poem, The Humours of New Tunbridge Wells at Islington,
London, 1734, 8vo (cp. Pinks, 401, note, and 402).
2. View of the gardens, well, coffee-house, &c., engraved by G.
Bickham, jun., as the headpiece of “The Charms of Dishabille or New
Tunbridge Wells” (Bickham’s Musical Entertainer, 1733, &c., vol. i. No.
42).
3. Engravings of the proprietor’s house in Lloyd’s Row; Cromwell’s
Clerkenwell, 352; Pinks, 405. The house is still as there represented.
THE PANTHEON, SPA FIELDS
The Spa Fields Pantheon stood on the south side of the present
Exmouth Street, and occupied the site of the Ducking Pond House,
[26] a wayside inn, with a pond in the rear used for the sport of duck-
hunting.
The Ducking Pond premises having been acquired by Rosoman
of Sadler’s Wells, were by him sub-let to William Craven, a publican,
who, at a cost of £6,000, laid out a garden and erected on the site of
the old inn a great tea-house called the Pantheon, or sometimes the
Little Pantheon, when it was necessary to distinguish it from “the
stately Pantheon” in Oxford Street, built in 1770–1771, and first
opened in January 1772.[27]
The Spa Fields Pantheon was opened to the public early in 1770,
and consisted of a large Rotunda, with two galleries running round
the whole of the interior, and a large stove in the centre.
The place was principally resorted to by apprentices and small
tradesmen, and on the afternoon and evening of Sunday, the day
when it was chiefly frequented, hundreds of gaily-dressed people
were to be found in the Rotunda, listening to the organ,[28] and
regaling themselves with tea, coffee and negus, or with supplies of
punch and red port. A nearer examination of this crowded assembly
showed that it consisted of journeymen tailors, hairdressers, milliners
and servant maids, whose behaviour, though boisterous, may have
been sufficiently harmless.
The proprietor endeavoured to secure the strict maintenance of
order by selling nothing after ten o’clock in the evening. But his
efforts, it would seem, were not entirely successful. “Speculator,” a
correspondent of the St. James’s Chronicle, who visited the place in
May 1772, “after coming from church,” looked down from his
vantage-ground in one of the galleries upon what he describes as a
dissipated scene. To his observation the ladies constituted by far the
greater part of the assembly, and he was shocked more than once
by the request, “Pray, Sir, will you treat me with a dish of tea?”
A tavern with tea-rooms for more select parties stood on the east
of the Rotunda. Behind the buildings was a pretty garden, with
walks, shrubs and fruit trees. There was a pond or canal stocked
with fish, and near it neat boxes and alcoves for the tea-drinkers.
Seats were dispersed about the garden, the attractions of which
were completed by a summer-house up a handsome flight of stone
steps, and a statue of Hercules, with his club, on a high pedestal.
The extent of the garden was about four acres.
A writer in the Town and Country Magazine for April 1770 (p. 195),
speaks contemptuously of the canal “as about the size of a butcher’s
tray, where citizens of quality and their spouses come on Sunday to
view the amorous flutterings of a duck and drake.” This, however, is
the opinion of a fashionable gentleman who goes alternately to
Almack’s and Cornelys’s, while Ranelagh (he says) “affords me great
relief.”
The career of the Pantheon was brief; for in March 1774 the
building and its grounds were announced for sale on account of
Craven’s bankruptcy. According to the statement of the auctioneer
the place was then in full trade, and the returns almost incredible,
upwards of one thousand persons having sometimes been
accommodated in the Rotunda. It is uncertain if another proprietor
tried his hand, if so he was probably unsuccessful, for the Pantheon
was certainly closed as a place of amusement in 1776.
In July 1777 the Rotunda, after having been used for a time as a
depot for the sale of carriages, was opened for services of the
Church of England under the name of Northampton Chapel. One of
the preachers, moralising on the profane antecedents of the place,
adopted the text, “And he called the name of that place Bethel, but
the name of that city was called Luz at the first.”
The building was afterwards purchased by the Countess of
Huntingdon, and opened in March 1779 under the name of Spa
Fields Chapel as a place of worship in her connexion. Various
alterations were at that time, and subsequently, made in the building,
and a statue of Fame, sounding a trumpet, which had stood outside
the Pantheon on the lantern surmounting the cupola was removed.
The tavern belonging to the Pantheon, on the east side of the
Rotunda, was occupied by Lady Huntingdon as her residence. It was
a large house partly covered by branches of jessamine.
The gardens, in the rear of the Rotunda, were converted in 1777
into the Spa Fields burial-ground, which became notorious in 1843
for its over-crowded and pestilential condition, and for some
repulsive disclosures as to the systematic exhumation of bodies in
order to make room for fresh interments.
Spa Fields Chapel was pulled down in the beginning of 1887, and
the present church of the Holy Redeemer was erected on its site,
and consecrated for services of the Church of England on 13
October, 1888. Such have been the strange vicissitudes of the
Pantheon tea-house and its gardens.
[Pinks’s Clerkenwell; Walford, O. and N. London; The Sunday
Ramble; Tomlins’s Perambulation of Islington, p. 158; Notes and
Queries, 1st ser. ii. p. 404; Spa Fields Chapel and its Associations,
London, 1884.]
VIEWS.
1. View of Northampton or Spa Fields Chapel, with the Countess of
Huntingdon’s house adjoining. Hamilton, del., Thornton sculp., 1783.
Crace, Cat. p. 589, No. 43.
2. Exterior of Chapel and Lady Huntingdon’s house, engraving in
Britton’s Picture of London, 1829, p. 120.
3. Later views of the Chapel (interior and exterior) engraved in
Pinks’s Clerkenwell, pp. 146, 147.
THE LONDON SPA
The annual Welsh fair, held in the Spa Field hard by, must have
brought additional custom to the tavern, and in 1754 the proprietor,
George Dodswell, informed the public that they would meet with the
most inviting usage at his hands, and that during the fair there would
be the “usual entertainment of roast pork with the oft-famed
flavoured Spaw ale.” From this date onwards the London Spa would
appear to have been merely frequented as a tavern.[30] The present
public-house was built on the old site in 1835.
MAY DAY AT THE LONDON SPA. 1720.
[The London Spaw, an advertisement, August 1685, folio sheet in
British Museum; Pinks’s Clerkenwell.]
VIEWS.
1. A view of the London Spa in Lempriere’s set of views, 1731;
Crace, Cat. p. 588, No. 41. Cp. Pinks’s Clerkenwell, p. 168.
2. Engraving of the Spa garden, T. Badeslade, inv.; S. Parker,
sculp.; frontispiece to May Day, or the Origin of Garlands, 1720.
THE NEW WELLS, NEAR THE LONDON SPA
VIEWS.
Two engravings, probably contemporary, showing well-dressed
gentlemen playing at ninepins near the mulberry tree: Guildhall
Library, London (Catal. p. 210). One of these views is engraved in
Pinks, p. 128.
SADLER’S WELLS
In 1698 (23 May) a vocal and instrumental concert was given, and
the company enjoyed such harmony as can be produced by an
orchestra composed of violins, hautboys, trumpets and kettledrums.
This was one of the concerts given in the Music House twice a week
throughout the season and lasting from ten o’clock to one. In 1699
James Miles and Francis Forcer (d. 1705?), a musician, appear to
have been joint proprietors of Sadler’s Wells, which was for some
years styled Miles’s Music House. In this year (1699) there was an
exhibition of an “ingurgitating monster,” a man, who, for a stake of
five guineas, performed the hardly credible feat of eating a live cock.
This disgusting scene was witnessed by a very rough audience,
including however some beaux from the Inns of Court. A brightly