The Quack Doctor

TO SHORT PERSONS.——Anyone (Male or Female) wishing to increase in Height and Symmetry of Figure, by means of a remarkable physiological discovery, may send a stamped directed envelope to Captain F. STAFFORD (U.S.). 1, Church-terrace, Kentish Town, London, N.W.

The Penny Illustrated Post, 15 October 1870

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Some advertisements might make wild claims, but as The Pall Mall Gazette pointed out in 1870, this one technically doesn’t offer anything at all. Short persons may send an S.A.E. if they wish – but there’s no promise that they will receive something in return.

Suspecting that Captain Stafford might be furnishing himself with a lifetime’s supply of penny reds, the P.M.G. investigated further and discovered that this was not the case. Applicants would receive a circular that hinted at a mysterious method of increasing their height. The Captain had made the discovery during his time in active service among the giant races of Patagonia, and had boosted his own stature from 5′ 8” to 6′ 1”. No wonder he wanted to share this wonderful secret with the short people of the world (all they had to do was send him another 5s. 8d.) The Gazette suggested that he would be better off continuing to use the method on himself:

Progressing at the same rate, he would soon be able to earn an honest living as a giant, instead of touting for postage stamps.

The adverts also attracted ridicule from the comic periodicals. Punch clarified that the ‘U.S.’ after the Captain’s name stood for United States, not ‘Under Size’ (and he must be from Long Island, of course). Fun magazine joined the cynicism by predicting that short people sending off their stamp would find themselves shorter – by a penny.

The Spectator, meanwhile, wondered whether the treatment would have the same effect on people of all sizes:

If he is able to gratify the wish of short persons to be of middle height, he must be able to gratify the wish of persons of middle height to be tall, and of tall persons to be relatively taller,—after effecting which we fear that short persons (who appear to be the particular objects of the compassion of Captain Stafford (U. S.) will be very much where they were before.

In 1874 a ‘respectably-dressed‘ young woman attended Marylebone Police Court to complain that she had sent 11 shillings to Captain Stafford for treatment. She received some pills and a pamphlet of advice, but her height had disappointingly remained at 4′ 1”. The magistrate agreed that it sounded like a swindle and granted her a summons, but she didn’t proceed – probably because of the costs involved. The quirkiness of her story, however, attracted the attention of the newspapers and Captain Stafford himself got wind of it. He appeared with his lawyer at the Police Court a few days later, keen make it known that his adverts did not actually promise to make short people tall.

His pamphlet contained some general, sensible tips for healthy living – keeping clean, abstaining from spirits and tobacco, avoiding heavy lifting, having a rest after a hearty meal, and:

In walking, the body should be held erect, the chest thrown forward, and the shoulders kept well back.

There was nothing wrong with advising people to improve their posture, but 11s. was a lot to fork out for such a pearl of wisdom.

Wishing to clear his name, Stafford even offered to pay for his own summons, but as the young woman was long gone, the non-existent case fizzled out. The Captain’s adverts stopped appearing in the newspapers and presumably he moved on to greater heights. 

From The Graphic, 15 Feb 1890

There’s often something a bit fishy about patent remedies, but this one appeared before the advent of canned tuna and, for the average non-sea-going punter, the name did not have the piscatorial associations it has now. A company called Fels and Davis began promoting it in 1879, but by the following year Davis had quietly disappeared from the adverts and the business became Fels and Co.

The remedy was promoted as ‘a strictly vegetable compound’, and its trademark suggests that the vegetable in question was a prickly pear species, which produces edible fruit known as tuna. Given that The Strand is not renowned for its supply of cacti, the product wasn’t necessarily made from real tuna fruit, but it’s odd that the advertising doesn’t go all out to create an exotic background story. Instead, the unique selling point was the free dose offered to anyone who called in person at Savoy House.

From The Graphic, 11 Jan 1890

The experiences of one such caller are set out in a testimonial on an 1879 pamphlet, which is a good example of a proprietor portraying an apparently sceptical customer whose eyes are opened to the wonders of the remedy. The customer, a neuralgia sufferer called J Flynn, starts off thinking of Tuna as ‘only another remedy cracked up by quacks’, and goes to Savoy House purely out of curiosity when he happens to be in the area. After receiving his free dose, he is not convinced, so the Tuna representative gives him another, and still nothing happens. Unable to hang about any longer, J Flynn goes on his way, when the inevitable occurs:

But mark! Before I had gone less than a mile the pain entirely left me, and I have not had the slightest symptoms since, and this was after three weeks’ incessant pain, from which I could barely sleep or eat food.

Flynn goes from writing off Tuna as just another quack potion to viewing it as ‘a godsend to mankind,’ and concludes by thanking Fels and Davis for being ‘extremely kind in curing me and not charging me one halfpenny’. The technique of showing the conversion of sceptic to believer is a common one in patent medicine advertising - here, it’s elegantly combined with a reminder to the reader that there’s absolutely nothing to lose from a visit to Savoy House.

EDE’S PATENT AMERICAN EYE
LIQUID CURES
Eyes! which Ache with tears that’s shed,
Eyes! which Bloodshot overspread;
Eyes! which Cataracts oppress,
Eyes! which Dimness too distress;
Eyes! which Evening fogs soon blight,
Eyes! which Fever weakens quite;
Eyes! which Great depression gives
Eyes! which Health enfeebled leaves;
Eyes! which Inflammation show,
Eyes! which Jaundice spoils we know
Eyes! which Kells attack with rage,
Eyes! which Languish too with age;
Eyes! which Misty are and dull,
Eyes! which Nervousness we cull;
Eyes! which Overwork will show,
Eyes! which Palsy weaken so;
Eyes! which Quincy oft attacks,
Eyes! which Rheumatism racks;
Eyes! which Specks soon flickering spoil,
Eyes! which Time will dim with toil;
Eyes! which U once prized so much,
Eyes! which Various causes touch;
Eyes! Which Weakness will display,
Eyes! which Xcell’d in many a way;
Eyes! which You such pleasure gave,
Eyes! which Zeal would prompt to save!
MORAL
Beautiful Eyes! What a treasure they are,
Whilst above all attractions they soar;
If aught befall them how sadly we grieve,
And the loss of their beauty deplore;
But if any danger should threaten your eyes,
Why, here is a safeguard indeed;
Whilst thousands can vouch for the wonderful cures
That’s made by the liquid of EDE!
One Fact is worth a Bushel of Arguments.—The number of testimonials received from those that have been cured speaks volumes as to the value of the well-known PATENT AMERICAN EYE LIQUID. Unlike many similar preparations, it is perfectly harmless, and the only cure for dimness, aged, weak, watery, sore, bloodshot, kells, cataracts, specks, colds, inflamed, near sight, over-worked, and every disease of the eye. Sold by all chemists, 1s. 1½d. and 2s. 9d.; from EDE, Eye Liquid Depot, Birmingham, 15 and 35 stamps. Bottle enlarged.
Book on “Human Eye,” with Testimonials and Opinions of Press, three stamps.

Source: Reynold’s Newspaper (London) 21 April 1878

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John Ede’s poetical talents might run out of steam towards the end of the alphabet but they were better than his money management skills.

Ede started out as a wholesaler, purchasing and reselling job lots of millinery supplies, hosiery, haberdashery, jewellery, corsets, and second-hand clothes for export. Although by 1871 he had moved around a lot and his business income had fluctuated severely, he built Snowball Villa, a smart four-bedroom house in Chain Walk, Birmingham, and mortgaged it for £800. The desirable residence had a conservatory and vinery, a coach house, aviary, pigsty, gardens and a modest two-stall stable for his horses – who included one named Snowball.

In 1872 Ede began making the Eye Liquid – he later said that the recipe had been passed down from his father, who would give it away free of charge to friends but realised it might have a wider market. About the same time, he got rid of his wholesale stock, placing an advert in the Birmingham Daily Post to try to shift 800 boxes of elegant French millinery flowers, ‘Also, job lot Stays and Corsets; bargain.’ He began referring to his premises as the Eye Liquid Depot, and introduced another remedy, Ede’s Patent American Blood-Purifying Pills.

Although Ede’s ads claimed fame and worldwide demand for the Eye Liquid (which is fair enough – he was hardly going to say it was rubbish), most of them were in Birmingham papers. The American connection is not clear – perhaps he made it up, or perhaps he was of American descent. His vehicle was an American ‘buggy,’ but this is not exactly conclusive evidence as to his origins. One hopes that the Eye Liquid was not similar in composition to a US version patented in the same year by Ransom C Fisher of New York. His product comprised green tea, sugar of lead, white vitriol, camphor gum and alcohol, mixed with rain or other soft water. Rather than use an eye-bath, the patient had to dip one finger into the mixture and apply it to the outside of the eyelid.

Snowball Villa went on the market in 1874, with Ede claiming that he was moving to bigger premises nearby. The reality was that he was in financial trouble. Far from being ‘The Greatest Wonder of the Age,’ the Eye Liquid had not sold well, and the following year the business went into receivership with debts totalling more than £10,000 to 489 creditors. Most of this had been spent on advertising, but as Ede hadn’t kept any accounts, it was difficult for the receivers to work out who was owed what. There were also suggestions he had been gambling, but he denied having done so within the last year.

A meeting of the creditors agreed to allow Mr Ede to carry on the business until they had been paid back 10s. in the pound. Bearing this in mind, his attractive new logo is so over-the-top as to have an air of desperation:

The business continued until about 1880, and Ede’s ads briefly mention an address at High Holborn, although Birmingham remained his main base. One of the last advertisements I’ve found recommends the Eye Liquid for use on horses and puppies – it seems human patients remained unimpressed.

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This Cut illustrates the manner of Using
DR. PIERCE’S
Fountain Nasal Injector
or
DOUCHE.
This instrument is specially designed for the perfect application of
DR. SAGE’S CATARRH REMEDY.
It is the only form of instrument yet invented with which fluid medicine can be carried high up and perfectly applied to all parts of the affected nasal passage, and the chambers or cavities communicating therewith, in which sores and ulcers frequently exist, and from which the catarrhal discharge generally proceeds. The want of success in treating Catarrh heretofore has arisen largely from the impossibility of applying remedies to these cavities and chambers by any of the ordinary methods. This obstacle in the way of effecting cures is entirely overcome by the invention of the Douche. In using this instrument, the Fluid is carried by its own weight, (no snuffing, forcing or pumping being required,) up one nostril in a full gently flowing stream to the highest portion of the nasal passages, passes into and thoroughly cleanses all the tubes and chambers connected therewith, and flows out of the opposite nostril. Its use is pleasant, and so simple that a child can understand it. Full and explicit directions accompany each instrument. When used with this instrument, Dr. Sage’s Catarrh Remedy cures recent attacks of “Cold in the Head” by a few applications.
Symptoms of Catarrh. Frequent head-ache, discharge falling into throat, sometimes profuse, watery, thick mucus, purulent, offensive, &c. In others a dryness, dry, watery, weak or inflamed eyes, stopping up or obstruction of nasal passages, ringing in ears, deafness, hawking and coughing to clear throat, ulcerations, scabs from ulcers, voice altered, nasal twang, offensive breath, impaired or total deprivation of sense of smell and taste, dizziness, mental depression, loss of appetite, indigestion, enlarged tonsils, tickling cough, &c. Only a few of these symptoms are likely to be present in any case at one time.
Dr. Sage’s Catarrh Remedy, when used with Dr. Pierce’s Nasal Douche, and accompanied with the constitutional treatment which is recommended in the pamphlet that wraps each bottle of the Remedy, is a perfect specific for this loathsome disease, and the proprietor offers, in good faith, $500 reward for a case he can not cure. The Remedy is mild and pleasant to use, containing no strong or caustic drugs or poisons. The Catarrh Remedy is sold at 50 cents, Douche at 60 cents, by all Druggists, or either will be mailed by proprietor on receipt of 60 cents. R. V. PIERCE, M.D., Sole Proprietor. BUFFALO, N.Y.

Source: The Indiana Progress 25 April 1872

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We’ve met Dr Ray Vaughn Pierce before as the promoter of the Pleasant Pellets. A big-business quack, he sold enormous quantities of his remedies, which included the Golden Discovery, the Extract of Smart Weed and the Vaginal Tablets.

For the treatment of catarrh, Pierce recommended Dr Sage’s Catarrh Remedy in conjunction with the Nasal Injector. Strangely enough, the business address for Dr Sage’s remedy was exactly the same as that for Pierce’s other products – the World Medical Association in Buffalo, NY.

An 1890s ad for the Catarrh Remedy included the following picture:

The ad continues:

“That’s what I call making glad the waist places,” said Smithson, as he put his arm around a lady’s waist. But Lilly won’t care much for this show of affection if Smithson doesn’t get rid of that disagreeable catarrh of his.

The waste/waist joke wasn’t very original, but I sympathise with both Lilly and her bunged-up beau.

Instructions for using the Nasal Douche appear in Pierce’s popular book, The People’s Common Sense Medical Adviser.

Before using the Catarrh Remedy, you had to clear out the nasal passages by taking one quart of soft water, dissolving two large tablespoons of salt into it, then heating it to body temperature – in other words ‘until it gives a pleasant, mild warmth to the inserted finger.’

The douche reservoir had to be elevated just above your head, then you would take the tube and put the nozzle into one nostril, up which the pressure would make the fluid flow in a ‘gentle stream.’

According to the book,

The douche should not be employed unless both nostrils are open and the flow is free. If the head is ‘stopped up,’ snuff up the warm liquid from the hand occasionally, until the passages are open and you can breathe freely through both nostrils.

In which case, one might be forgiven for wondering what’s the problem! If, however, you got this far, it was time to introduce Dr Sage’s Catarrh Remedy to the mixture. Once you were used to the Injector, you could put the reservoir on a higher shelf to create a stronger flow. The procedure should be carried out at least twice a day but preferably no more than three times. For anyone nervous about squirting liquid up their nostrils, reassurance was available:

Let no one entertain any feeling of timidity on commencing the use of this instrument, as its operation is perfectly simple and harmless, and, with the fluids which we recommend, is never attended with any strangling, choking, pain, or other disagreeable sensations.

If you didn’t use up all the liquid in the reservoir, you could pour it back into the bottle – but the book recommended that if the liquid had passed through the nasal cavity, it would contain the germs of the disease and therefore should not be used a second time.

NOSE MACHINE.—This is a simple successful contrivance which, applied to the nose for an hour daily, so directs the soft cartilage of which the member consists, that an ill-formed nose is quickly shaped to perfection. Any one can use them, and without pain. Price 10s. 6d., sent carriage free.—ALEX. ROSS, 248 High Holborn, London. Pamphlet sent for two stamps.

Source: The Examiner (London) 10 Feb 1872

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This intriguing contraption arrived on the scene in late 1871. Alexander Ross was a perfumer who branched out into a wide range of beauty products, including depilatories, hair curling fluid, complexion pills and skin tightening lotion, but was perhaps best known for his Spanish Fly hair restorer. On the launch of the nose machine, I suspect he sent out a pamphlet to the press. The novelty certainly attracted plenty of tongue-in-cheek comment.

The Birmingham Daily Post joked that the machine could provide political conspirators with the means of becoming masters of disguise. Once the device was well-known, they predicted,

…we shall expect to have fashions in noses as well as in hair. Where will it stop? Who knows?

The Pall Mall Gazette also wondered where the quest for perfection would end. With noses sorted out, would fashion next turn its attention to the eyes?

The substitution of coloured glass (of the hue best suited to the complexion of the wearer) for these organs is probably merely a question of time, and awaits only the solution of a few optical difficulties involved in the change. When this final conquest has been achieved, we shall at last be able to walk abroad with the proud consciousness that we owe our personal attractions not to the blind bounty of nature but to our own good taste and decorative skill.

News of the invention immediately reached the US too, with one Pennsylvania paper commenting:

Now let this genius invent a “nose machine” that will prevent persons from sticking their noses into other people’s business, and his fortune is guaranteed.

All good fun, but Punch ran a rather more sinister joke suggesting that Jewish people converting to Christianity could have their noses converted too.

Ross was a prolific advertiser, but the adverts themselves remained brief and low-key, without any typographical virtuosity, and often the nose machine was only mentioned as part of a list of his other products. It doesn’t appear to have gained much credence, remaining a last resort for the nasally challenged and an entertaining curiosity to others. In the mid-1890s, the Hampshire Chronicle remarked on it as if it had just been invented, giving a description as follows:

It is nothing but a little wooden clamp, consisting of two thin boomerang-shaped bits of boxwood, measuring about 3in, by ½in. and held together by two fly-headed screws. The nose is put in the clamp, tilted or hooked to the requisite form, and then the screws are tightened… …The whole apparatus could easily be turned out wholesale for threepence or less.

By this time Ross Jnr. had also come up with a similar contrivance for changing the shape of the chin, and one for correcting sticking-out ears. In the early 20th century the idea took off to a greater extent, with new versions being produced, such as this one from US inventor Ignatius Nathaniel Soares (please note this is a 1905 invention, and not what Alexander Ross’s machine would have looked like):

A lot of the remedies I feature on The Quack Doctor are mildly amusing. I know some people link to them as examples of what our credulous old-timey forefathers would believe in. But this one, like the majority of stuff on the site, has a modern equivalent (thanks to Gizmodo for the link), not to mention the widespread availability of rhinoplasty. People’s desire to improve their appearance is timeless.

Source: The Belfast News-letter, Tues 3 June 1879

This ad is unusual in appealing not to the potential consumer but to her weedy, emasculated little husband. (Presumably he’s her husband, because he seems stuck with her.)

Most ads for Allan’s Anti-Fat, however, were aimed directly at people wishing to lose weight. (N.B. the spelling ‘Allen’s’ above is an error that crops up occasionally.) Where images were included, they showed women, as in the one below, but the product was very much aimed at corpulent men too.  Some adverts claimed it also cured dyspepsia, palpitations, rheumatism and gout, and prevented heart disease, apoplexy and paralysis.

The nostrum, costing 6s 6d per 6½ fl oz bottle, was a fluid extract of Fucus vesiculosis (bladder wrack), which had been the original source for the discovery of iodine back in 1811. It is therefore a forerunner of modern iodine-containing weight loss supplements, and while in appropriate quantities it might have assisted people with hypothyroidism, it wouldn’t have done much good to any random person taking it indiscriminately in order to shed a few pounds.

Another 1879 ad gives the following testimonial from Windsor physician Thomas Fairbank:

I gave some of this extract (Fucus Vesiculosus) to a very corpulent lady, who in three months lost three stones in weight without any change of diet. Since then I have frequently given it for reducing weight depending on the accumulation of adipose tissue, and have never found it fail. I may state that a patient who has been lately taking it as an anti-fat, and who always suffered very much from from rheumatic pains about the body, has been entirely free from such trouble while she has been taking the extract, a fact which she quite independently noted.

Fairbank was a genuine doctor and the Botanic Medicine Company certainly did not invent his testimonial, but in his original letter to the BMJ, he is clearly referring to Fucus vesiculosus in general, and had never prescribed Allan’s Anti-Fat. The case of the ‘very corpulent lady’ had occurred 15 years before. He also said how easy it was to make Fucus pills – a handy hint that the Anti-Fat proprietors understandably left out. Various opinions were printed in the BMJ over the next few months, with some correspondents, like Fairbank, broadly in favour of Fucus as a weight-loss aid.

Irish physician A T Carson, however, was not convinced:

Some who are paying expensively for the remedy may be surprised to hear that the Fucus Vesiculosus is here largely used as a food for pigs, and that it in no way interferes with their growth. It will require a number of well-reported cases to convince me that what fattens a pig will make a Christian lean. BMJ, 19 July 1879

William Murrell M.D. prescribed generic Fucus pills for a man. ‘C.G.’ who had enquired about the remedy, and asked him to keep a detailed diary of progress. The patient enthusiastically obeyed the instruction, leaving nothing to the imagination:

June 25th. Weight, 15 stone 6¼ lbs.; three pills; food and exercise as usual; had two motions.—June 26th. Weight, 15st. 6½ lbs.; three pills; four motions; urine very copious (not often, but when about it felt as if I was never going to leave off), smelling like some old horse, and very dark coloured.—June 27th. Weight, 15st. 6½ lbs.; three pills; five motions; much urine; appetite much increased; felt as if I had a tape-worm.

The next day he had ten motions, in case you really wanted to know. ‘C.G.’ briefly got down to 15st 5½ pounds, but only continued the treatment for 10 days. He concluded:

Towards the end, I fancied that I exhaled a kind of fusty odour from my whole body, but my feet and breath were stern facts. I have just weighed, and am 15st 7lb. If you think the liquid preparation will act I will try it, but the other seems (to use a vulgar expression) to be making me as rotten as a pear.

This, of course, has no specific reflection on Allan’s Anti-Fat – Murrell, C.G.’s doctor, had prescribed the pills himself and there is no way of knowing his formula. A subsequent correspondent, signing himself  ″A Very Broad Church Parson,” replied that Fucus had caused him to lose a stone in a month, without any unpleasant side effects.

Fucus was a component of many similar weight loss products in the later years of the 19th century. The media today likes to compare us 21st-century bloaters with our healthy pre-McDonalds, non-computer-game-playing forebears, but the market for these quick-fix remedies suggests that anxiety about weight is nothing new.

Source: The Graphic, Sat 23 August 1879

Laxora was introduced to Britain by its French proprietor, P. Guyot, in 1877, and at once attracted positive attention from the medical press. It sounds a pleasant medicine to take – The Medical Times and Gazette described it thus:

They consist of a core, or centre-part, of compound of manna, cassia-pulp, and other like laxatives, we believe, enclosed in a crystalline chocolate crust; are not at all unpleasant to the taste, and will, we doubt not, be readily taken by children as well as by adults.

Certainly more appealing than the Rectal Dilators or the Aperitive Vase!

In the 18th century, William Buchan (Domestic Medicine), had said that constipation ‘may proceed from drinking rough red wines, or other astringent liquors: too much exercise, especially on horseback,’ but by the mid-19th century many medical writers (particularly in the US) were putting it down to the sufferer not getting into the habit of ‘going to stool’ every day. You had to be regular, and if you weren’t, it was advisable to go anyway, and sit and wait until something happened. Thomas Hawkes Tanner in 1866 estimated that the normal output of a ‘properly fed man’ should be 4 or 5 oz daily. For those with time to kill, Samuel Sheldon Fitch advised:

Let the costive person, exactly at the same time every day, solicit an evacuation, and that most perseveringly for at least one hour, should he not succeed sooner, at the same time leaving off all medicine.

Should the costive person fail at their solicitation, there were numerous remedies to be introduced – by mouth or otherwise. Rhubarb and castor oil were well-known as purgatives, and clysters of castor oil, lukewarm water or, more drastically, tobacco-smoke (as advocated by Thomas Sydenham two centuries earlier) might do the trick. One recipe for a clyster comprised castor oil, turpentine and half a pint of gruel, which I imagine went a long way. If the condition proved stubborn, one US writer said:

When the feces are impacted in the rectum, the assistance of the finger, a scoop, spoon-handle, or some similar instrument, introduced per anum, becomes necessary to break up and discharge the solid mass.

More unusually, an 1854 book by James Smellie described the action of galvanic apparatus as an aid to getting the bowels moving – the positive electrode was to be placed in the lumbar region, the negative to the rectum. With extreme cases, it was necessary to ‘employ the galvanic friction, and sometimes to draw sparks from individual points.’

The emphasis on being regular makes it debatable whether all supposed sufferers really had a problem. ‘Costiveness’ could be diagnosed – and treated quite aggressively – just on the strength of the patient not having defecated for a couple of days, which is hardly a medical emergency.

Ultimately, however, much constipation advice focused on diet, for prevention as well as cure. Strong coffee, too much white bread, especially that contaminated with alum, and the fashionable habit of over-indulging at one late meal rather than eating little and often, were all thought to contribute to the condition. Thankfully for patients daunted by the more drastic remedies, there was the option of beef tea, figs, prunes and tamarinds, molasses, porridge, and plenty of fresh fruit.

Important Notice to the Afflicted
ALL Persons suffering from PARALYSIS, SPINAL
AFFECTIONS, RHEUMATISM, NEURAL-
GIA, ASTHMA, Pain in the Head, or all cases of INFLAM-
MATION or CONGESTION, should at once try Mr G. W.
Gedney’s VACUUM APPARATUS, by Dr. Junod, which has
been practised with great success for upwards of 40 years.
Testimonials of the highest character on application to
Mr. G. W. GEDNEY,
64, Victoria Street, London Road, Ipswich.

Source: The Ipswich Journal, Sat 24 June 1871

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The apparatus referred to was developed in the 1830s by Victor Theodore Junod, and as Mr Gedney here clearly acknowledges Junod, it seems likely that he just had one in his possession rather than that he was claiming any credit for inventing it.

The device, known as the haemospasic apparatus or exhausting apparatus, was an alternative to blood-letting, producing the supposed beneficial effects without the dangers of blood loss. The picture below (taken from the London Lancet in 1853, but it was a woodcut that was also used elsewhere) shows how it worked, and this description from The Journal of Health (Grindrod, London, 1852) explains further:

…a tin boot, into which the leg of the patient is inserted, and from which the atmospheric air is gradually withdrawn, by means of a small air pump, the top of the boot being kept in air-tight apposition to the leg, by means of a broad belt of vulcanised india-rubber.

The idea was like dry cupping on a larger scale – the blood would be sucked into the limb (the device could be also be used on the arm), therefore withdrawing it from general circulation, weakening the pulse and possibly even causing the patient to faint. This, Junod believed, would reduce fever and palliate any inflammatory conditions.

The effects, while not gruesome, don’t sound very pleasant:

No pain, but only a slight uneasiness, is experienced in the limb enclosed in the boot, which is found, on being withdrawn, to be much increased in size, and the blood does not entirely return into the circulation, and the leg resumes its original size, at first for twenty-four hours. (Journal of Health).

The invention was popular in French hospitals and when it was displayed at the Great Exhibition, its potential to replace blood-letting resulted in it being tried out in British hospitals too, with mixed results. Army surgeon A. MacLean M.D. (quoted in The Medical Times, July-Dec 1853) was somewhat underwhelmed:

I have to report that this apparatus has been tried in a variety of cases in this hospital, with the view of testing its power as a therapeutic agent; and have to state that the beneficial results have been very partial, and in many instances no effect of a favourable character was obtained.

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As we have seen before, nostrum-vendors’ talents were more suited to  salesmanship than to poetry. This ad gets off to a tolerable start, but come verse 3 it goes downhill fast, and by the bit about the sheep it’s apparent that the copy-writer just wanted to get the wretched thing out the door and go home:

..

What hear we now from West to East
Counfounding man, befriending beast,
But Centaur Liniment?—

What is it cures our many pains,
And limbers up severest strains
But Centaur Liniment?—

That knocks Rheumatism out of gear,
Bids gout good-by without a tear?
Why! Centaur Liniment:

Causes the cripple to walk, the lame to leap,
Hearts to thank, instead of eyes to weep,—
Only, Centaur Liniment.

What renders reptiles tooth and sting of bees
Harmless as the bite of fleas,
Excepting Centaur Liniment;

Assuages the pangs of a broken breast,
Flows to lacteal fluid, gives nights of rest,
But Centaur Liniment;

When chilblains sting or hot steam scalds,
What is it soothes, for what can we call,
But Centaur Liniment.

When the car crushed old Tilden’s arm,
‘Twas saved from amputation by this charm
The Centaur Liniment;

And when Barnum’s lion, Uncle Ben,
Broke his leg in that dismal den,
He roared for Centaur Liniment.

Now as the poor horse, lame and sore,
With crippled knee limps to our door,
And begs for Centaur Liniment;

And the docile sheep on a thousand hills,
Die by the million—the screw worm kills,
(All saved by Centaur Liniment; )

We hear it shouted from West to East,
By speaking man and neighing beast,
“Pass on the Centaur Liniment!”

This remarkable article is for sale by all
Druggists in every village, parish and ham-
let, in America. We warrant it to cure.

J.B. Rose & Co, 58 Broadway, N. Y.

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Source: The Marshal Statesman (Michigan) 4 Dec 1872

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Centaur Liniment arrived on the scene in 1871, and in October the following year its adverts took the form of a purported news story about the massive outbreak of equine influenza that was sweeping Canada and the US. In Buffalo, NY, the adverts claimed, ‘there are not well horses enough to carry merchandise through the streets… there are probably 12,000 sick horses in New York and Brooklyn to-day.’

‘The Centaur Liniment seems to be the specific acting both upon the glands and joints, and superior to the turpentine, opodeldoc and capsicum. When the throat, belly and legs of the animal are early rubbed with this Liniment, and cloths saturated with it bound on the legs, the disease is checked and the animal soon recovers.’

Although patent remedy adverts are prone to exaggeration, the Centaur ads were not inflating the extent of the epizootic. Beginning in Toronto in early October 1872, the disease quickly spread to the US and down the eastern seaboard, getting all the way to Cuba within 90 days. The New York Times reported that on Oct 25 alone, the number of cases in the city increased by 60%. Very few horses remained unaffected.

The outbreak was disastrous for the economy, completely disabling transport networks. Tram, omnibus and stagecoach services came to a standstill, and fire wagons had to be pulled by the firemen. Even the railways could not function without wagons to receive the goods from the trains. Because of the virulence and near-universality of the disease, the epizootic at least burnt itself out quickly.

Treatment with Centaur Liniment was indeed usually followed by recovery –  about 98% of affected horses got better anyway, with or without it.

According to Charles Oleson in Secret Nostrums and Systems of Medicine (10th Ed 1903) the animal liniment was made from oil of spearmint, oil of mustard, oil of amber, black oil, soap, caustic soda and water, though his recipes were intended to be ‘near enough’ rather than an exact copy of the formula.

The human version of the liniment was thicker in texture and a lighter colour, comprising oil of pennyroyal, oil of thyme, oil of turpentine, soap, caustic soda and water. The products were made by J B Rose and Co, later known as The Centaur Company, who also manufactured the famous Fletcher’s Castoria. The company’s US advertising campaigns were huge but, while the products did make it to the UK, the Liniment wasn’t promoted as much here – and we lucky Brits were spared the poetry.

This device, invented by Dr Ball of Nassau Street, New York, was a small cup with a squeezy rubber balloon attached to it, as pictured left. The invention made its way to England in 1872, when Chichester minister Joseph Fletcher filed a British patent for it.

The patient had to put the cup over the eye and then pump the balloon to create a vacuum, exerting suction to change the shape of the eyeball. Presumably if you pumped really hard, there could be gruesomely spectacular results.         

I was disappointed to learn that Dr Ball’s initial was J, not I.   

               BY ROYAL LETTERS PATENT.
          THE EYES! THE EYES!! THE EYES!!!

                                                                                  ——

             SIGHT RESTORED AND SPECTACLES NO
                               LONGER NEEDED.
             All diseases of the Eyes Cured by using
            Dr. BALL’S PATENT IVORY EYE CUPS
     By  their  use  the  shrunk  and  enfeebled  eye  in  both
young  and  old  is  at  once  furnished  with  the  best  and
indispensable  animal  stimulant—Arterial  Blood.  Nature
herself does the work aided by our Ivory Eye  Cups.
Over 25,000 persons have already been cured by Dr. Ball’s
safe and simple treatment.
For   particulars   address   stamped   envelope   to  Mr.  J.
FLETCHER, Richmond-villa, Portfield, Chichester, Sussex.

Source: The Hull Packet and East Riding Times, Friday 13 October 1876