At Home Places Magazine Summer 2021

Learning about Colonial Health Care at The Conococheague Institute

OUT AND ABOUT

MATTHEW WEDD

The Doctor Dismissing Death by Peter Simon. Erica Allen

written by MATTHEW WEDD

THE CONOCOCHEAGUE INSTITUTE MERCERSBURG, PA.

With a health and wellness theme for this issue of At Home Places, how could we resist writing about health and medicine in colonial America?

As a site that interprets the daily life of the frontier in the 18th century and that hosts a premier antique medical collection and educational program, we have the perfect tonic (of knowledge) to share with you. So, grab your leech jar, hold onto your humours and let’s get the laudable pus flowing!

In 18th-century America, just like today, health care was practiced by a variety of professionals: doctors, surgeons, nurses, apothecaries, amateurs, fakes (quacks) and home practitioners (primarily women).

Unlike today, the majority of health-care practitioners were not what we would call professional. Of the roughly 3,500 active ones prior to the American Revolution, only 5% received formal medical training at universities.

Another 5% had some training, such as graduates of an arts college who read some medical literature and acquired some practical experience.

Most practitioners were apprentices who trained for three to six years and read what was available, learning by example and practice. A smaller number of practitioners were educated and in a position of authority – magistrate, planter or military officer – who read a medical book. These were the self-taught “Google” doctors of the 18th century.

Home practitioners

Despite the availability of this array of practitioners, most health care was self- or family-administered. Knowledge of medication came from family herbal lore, patent medicines, advertisements in newspapers and self-help medical books, such as “Culpeper’s Complete Herbal” and “Every Man His Own Physician.”

Home practitioners were overwhelmingly female. As caregivers and mothers, women had the most experience with treating the sick, and keeping a kitchen garden was their sphere of influence. For economy and need, many herbal medicines were grown in family gardens.

The belief of why people got sick in colonial America is a far cry from today’s science. The colonists had no notion of bacteria, germs or viruses. Because bad air was feared as carrying sickness, they believed that a good smell could counteract it. As such, many doctors carried pomanders or scents in the heads of their canes. People sniffed herbs during epidemics and used other such “cures” that had no benefit except smelling good.

Once sick, the course of treatment followed much the same as today’s – diagnose, prescribe, treat and, if needed, perform surgery.

However, with a long heritage of theory – Aristotle’s elements (earth, air, fire and water); Galen’s humours (black bile, blood, yellow bile, phlegm); Arabic and medieval combinations; and 17th- and 18th-century theories of chemical balances, stimulation and more – colonial doctors had a lot with which to work. But they still believed the body was made up of a balance, and sickness meant something was out of balance, so it was the doctor’s job to restore it, often by removing something fast. As such, the most common treatments included dieting, vomiting, purging, sweating, enemas, blistering and bleeding.

Bleeding most commonly involved bloodletting or leeches so bad blood could escape. Sometimes, cuts were made near the pain to treat it directly. Sore throat? Cut under the tongue. Sore groin? Ahem …

Blistering could be done with hot irons (or by using natural caustics like the sap of the spurge plant) and brought pus to the surface, thus expelling the imbalance.

Most of the treatments would be prescribed with physic, but what did that mean?

“Physic,” or medicine, can come from anywhere in nature. Minerals and products of the earth provided sulphur, salts, oxides and mercury – all useful for venereal disease.

The animal kingdom was another source of treatments. Rhino horns were ground for medicine, but there were more local treatments. For eye infections, one colonial Virginian recommended blowing dried deer dung into the eye or alternatively using a pregnant woman’s breast milk. I pity the poor patient who tried and failed the first treatment and then had to knock on his neighbor’s door with a pus-filled eye covered in dung, asking if the mother of the home would be willing to share her breast milk.

Still Life with Poppy, Insects and Reptiles by Otto Marseus van Schrieck.

The power of herbs, other plants The primary natural source we consider as a source of medicine, though, is herbs and other plants.

Powdered rhubarb root is an extremely powerful laxative and was grown in apothecary gardens for that purpose. In its day, it was worth more than opium and saffron.

Dandelion juice was used to relieve stiff joints. Basil was drunk as a tea to calm nerves, while the bark of several trees was used for fevers. Lavender was utilized as a sedative, and sage for headaches.

We have scores of these medicinal plants growing in our colonial garden, and the best part is that many medicines are also edible. So, stop by and grab a bushel of lavender to create an aromatic calming drink or to hang in your home. Pick some catnip to help with colic and gas (and please your cats) or try some of the other plants in our community garden.

But please be careful. Ask what things are before you try them. Mistake your rosemary for rue, or basil for borage, and you are going to have a very strange day.

Our 30-acre site is open daily for exploration from dawn to dusk, with historic programming every Friday and Saturday.

Our surgery exhibit and educational programs are available for booking now at cimlg.org.

For more information, call 717-328-2800.

Conococheague Institute’s garden includes a variety of plants, including those used for medicinal purposes. SUBMITTED PHOTO