A Treatise of Buggs

In Short

This book is a professional manual written by a man who made his living as an exterminator. It documents the biology and life cycle of the bedbug while advocating for a specific chemical solution to rid the home of these pests. It has endured as an artifact of social history, capturing a time when the rapid growth of London and the expansion of maritime trade brought a creeping, biting menace into the homes of the city’s inhabitants, prompting a shift from domestic superstition to systematic scientific inquiry.

The Story

The narrative begins with a pressing public problem: the infestation of London by bedbugs. Following the Great Fire, the author notes that the city transitioned from oak-built structures to those utilizing fir timber, which he identifies as a primary harbor for the insects. Desperate for a solution to the "nauseous, venomous" pests that disrupted his sleep, he recounts his own illness in Jamaica in 1726. While incapacitated there, he encounters an elderly, white-haired enslaved man who possesses a deep, intuitive knowledge of local flora and vermin control.

The author trades tobacco and food for a secret, effective liquid remedy. Upon returning to London in 1727, he begins using this formula professionally. He quickly finds that while he can kill adult bugs, the creatures persistently reappear. This frustration drives him to undertake rigorous, self-taught study. He employs microscopes and keeps dozens of pairs of bugs in captivity to observe their mating, feeding, and reproductive habits in minute detail. He discovers they are not merely nocturnal nuisances but complex organisms that thrive on human blood and specific woods like deal and beech.

He confronts two "vulgar errors" of his day: the belief that bedbugs die off in winter and the notion that they prefer the blood of certain individuals over others. By demonstrating that they are active year-round and bite indiscriminately, he constructs a logical argument for why summer attempts at extermination often fail. He argues that the winter months, when the insects are not actively spawning, provide the optimal window for total eradication.

The arc of the book concludes with a comprehensive, actionable manual for the reader. He provides instructions on how to inspect one's home, which materials to avoid in furniture construction, and how to maintain beds so they are easily cleaned. He details his professional services, offering to inspect properties and apply his "Nonpareil" liquor to clear out infestations. He presents his methods as a service to the public, blending the pride of a specialized tradesman with the cautious validation of the Royal Society, which had reviewed his findings. The book ends not just as a piece of literature, but as a functional tool, providing a price list for his extermination services and advice for the wary homeowner.

How It Unfolds

The problem defined The author introduces the bedbug as a growing urban menace, noting its arrival in London’s newer, timber-heavy housing. He laments the lack of scientific literature on the insect and declares his intention to fill this void through professional experience.

A colonial discovery While recovering from illness in Jamaica, the author meets an elderly man who teaches him the secret of a powerful botanical liquor. This encounter changes the author's trajectory, leading him to abandon his failing health and focus on the professional study of vermin.

Scientific inquiry Returning to England, the author rejects guesswork and turns to the microscope. He meticulously documents the life cycle of the bedbug, from egg to maturity, mapping their color changes and growth stages over weeks.

The seasonal strategy The author debunks common misconceptions about winter survival and blood preference. He concludes that because the insects do not spawn in the cold, winter is the only time to achieve a clean, permanent result.

Practical defense The final section shifts from science to housewifery. He offers specific design advice for beds and furniture to prevent future infestations, followed by his own professional rates for those who prefer to hire an expert.

The People

The central figures are the author, John Southall, and his unnamed mentor in Jamaica. John Southall is a man of practical ambition; he is weary of being bitten and frustrated by the inadequacy of contemporary remedies. He presents himself as an "enterprizing" individual who, despite lacking formal scientific training, possesses the patience to observe, experiment, and refine his methods until they succeed. He is motivated by both public service and the desire for "private gain," maintaining a keen focus on his reputation and the validation of men like Sir Hans Sloane.

His mentor, the elderly enslaved man, represents a repository of traditional, empirical knowledge. He has survived decades of hardship, living in a "physick-garden" of his own making. He is initially suspicious of the author, fearing he is a "Creolian" who might exploit him, but he proves to be an astute teacher who understands the properties of local plants better than any European physician. Their relationship is one of mutual benefit: the mentor gains food and comfort, while the author gains the "valuable secret" that forms the foundation of his livelihood. They represent a collision of two worlds—the clinical, emerging science of the 18th-century metropolis and the deep, practical expertise of the colonial periphery.

In Its Own Voice

"Their beloved Foods are Blood, dry’d Paste, Size, Deal, Beach, Osier, and some other Woods, the Sap of which they suck; and on any one of these will they live the Year round."

The author provides a definitive list of what attracts and sustains the insects within a household.

"Buggs, tho’ nasty to us, are so cleanly to themselves, that they quit their places of Harbour to come out and dung, and their Excrements leave a Mark or Stain like that of a Fly, but somewhat blacker."

He explains the primary method by which a homeowner can identify the presence of the vermin before seeing them.

"I have seen, and do assert, they do bite in the cold as well as hot Seasons: but as our Blood is not so apt to inflame in Winter as in Summer, their Bites make but little Impression, and are consequently the less regarded."

He addresses the common error of believing bedbugs are dormant during the winter months.

What It's Really About

At its core, this is a treatise on the triumph of empirical observation over folklore. The author is obsessed with the idea that if one truly understands the "Nature, Feeding and Breeding" of a pest, one can conquer it. It is a work of early modern rationalism, where the "curious" mind seeks to organize and categorize the chaotic, unseen world of domestic vermin. Beneath the technical details lies an argument for human agency: that through cleanliness, careful architecture, and scientific application, the domestic sphere can be reclaimed from the "terrible" encroachments of the natural world. It poses the question of whether a society can truly be "civilized" if it remains at the mercy of the insect.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of science, urban life, or the oddities of 18th-century daily habits will find this book strangely captivating. There is a profound sense of authenticity in Southall's voice; he is not a philosopher but a man who has spent hours watching bugs in glass jars and fighting them in the houses of the "nobility and gentry." Reading it feels like sitting across a table from a tradesman who has discovered a secret and is eager to prove its worth.

The book is not without its challenges. The language is of its time, dense with archaic spellings and the formal, occasionally sycophantic, tone of the period’s dedications. His attitudes toward the people and places he encounters are firmly rooted in the colonial mindset of the 1720s, which a modern reader will find dated. However, the sheer specificity of his obsession is rewarding. It remains a stark reminder that the modern battle against household pests is not new, but part of a long, often frustrating history of domestic struggle. What stays with you is the author's unflinching focus: his insistence that with enough logic and the right liquor, even the most persistent "nauseous" intruder can be outmaneuvered.