Medicine in the 19th and very early 20th Centuries was still not too far removed from the half-magical outlook of the Middle Ages, and especially in the West, many doctors were poorly trained or far too fond of the bottle. They were also, often, much too expensive to be casually called upon. Quacks were widely patronized by those too poor, too ignorant, or too frightened to consult a doctor or a druggist. Faced with cures that often failed, or at least felt worse than the ailments, country people especially, instead of going to professional doctors, depended a good deal on “patent” medicines and on folk-medicine advice that had been passed down through generations, generally in the female line. Prescriptions, when they were used, weren’t the pre-packaged kind now turned out by “big pharma,” but were actually compounded by the druggist himself, usually from naturally-occurring substances. The “patents”—which weren’t patented at all, because that would have required their originators to spell out their formulae on their applications, but did bear proprietary (trademarked) names—were perhaps the commonest resort of those who were, or thought themselves, ill: even if you were a bachelor in a mining camp, you could find a store that stocked them, and they weren’t prohibitively expensive either. Moreover there was no need to consult a doctor before taking one. You read the descriptions on the package or in the advertisement, and if they seemed to cover what you were troubled with, you took the nostrum.
This thin but lavishly illustrated book (all the pictures come from original sources) covers every kind of “patent” medicine—“Indian cures,” “bust foods,” substances guaranteed to improve a woman’s “crowning glory,” “cures” for “drunkards” and drug addiction, reinvigorators of manhood, liniments, tonics, “magnetic oils,” liver medicines and iron infusions, tapeworm eradicators, and substances such as Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, Pe-ru-na, and Wine of Cardui, which were resorted to by millions of women too modest (or repressed) to describe their symptoms accurately to a doctor. Some were sold over-the-counter, like medicines of today; others were peddled by travelling “medicine men” or “medicine shows” (a phenomenon of the day covered extensively in the book). The chief difference between them and the substances we use today is that there was no official oversight of them, and if they contained alcohol or narcotics in large percentage, nobody knew it, including “teetotalling” women who chugged them down under the delusion that they were “vegetable” and therefore harmless. Some, including Mrs. Pinkham’s, were still being manufactured in 1961, when the book appeared, albeit with advertising much toned down by the Pure Food & Drug Act.
With its dozens of authentic advertisements and many telling anecdotes, this is a volume that should be read by everyone curious about how our Victorian ancestors attempted to keep or restore their health.
A unique and fascinating volume - a 4-Star Review by Chrijeff (found on Amazon.com)
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