REGENCY RELOADEDLET’S CUT THROUGH THE GLAM AND LOOK AT THE GRITTY, THE CORDIAL BALM OF GILEADAre you feeling nervous? Having stomach problems? Can’t sleep at night? Well, neither could the folks during the Regency era. Letters and journals, and magazine articles and books of the day reported that the British were not happy. One American visitor to London, William Austin, was amazed that so prosperous a people could be so melancholy amidst such wealth and splendour. Georgian and Regency doctors reported that all sorts of nervous disorders were on the increase, and disproportionately so beyond the net surge in population. Andrew Wilson was a physician from Edinburgh, and worked at the Medical Asylum in London. He wrote a treatise on hysteria, which details in colorful language some of the symptoms of this nervous complaint: Fear and courage, trembling and erection of spirits, grief and mirth, laughter and weeping, anger and placability are metamorphosed into one another in the twinkling of an eye. The imagination at one instant is perverted into a delirium; and the next, the understanding is suspended or bewildered. Fortunately, not everyone suffered from such extreme symptoms, but many of the British—particularly those who lived in the cities—were plagued by various manifestations of melancholy and anxiety. John Bull had somehow transformed into Samuel Sensitive, who suffered from “feverish fastidiousness” and “quivering sensibilities.” It wasn’t all bad, of course. There were many who believed that nervous disorders distinguished one as a person of sensibility and taste. It was, after all, the age of the Cult of Sensibility.
How could anyone treat such an extensive and alarming range of symptoms? What could be done to help all the unfortunate Samuel Sensitives who apparently abounded throughout the land? There was one man who claimed he could cure nervous disorders, and his treatments during the Regency period made him very, very rich. That man was Dr. Samuel Solomon, and his treatment was The Cordial Balm of Gilead. Solomon started his career as either a boot-blacking salesman or a vendor of hair curlers. Or both—no one is quite sure. But he took his talents as a salesman and put them to good use peddling his cure to the masses in Britain. He also wrote an extremely popular medical guide, which sat on the shelf in many a household throughout the land. The guide gave advice on a wide variety of topics, such as abortion, onanism, asthma, barrenness and bleeding. For sufferers of nervous disorders, this is what the guide recommended: Their food should be solid and nourishing, but of easy digestion. All excess should be carefully avoided. Hot meats are hurtful. They ought never to eat more than they can digest; but if they feel themselves weak and faint between meals, they ought to eat a bit of bread, and drink a glass of wine, with two or three tea-spoonfuls of The Cordial Balm of Gilead added thereto…though wine in excess enfeebles the body, and impairs the faculties of the mind; yet taken in moderation it strengthens the stomach, and promotes digestion. The key to the cure, of course, was The Cordial Balm of Gilead. And the results did seem to be remarkable. Here’s a testimonial from one of Dr. Solomon’s patients: “For six years I was afflicted with a nervous disorder.” Symptoms included, “continual belching and hiccup for weeks together,” and also “for these last three years I discharged a whitish matter from the penis, which came on once a fortnight, sometimes oftener.” This last alarming symptom—at least to our unfortunate sufferer—proceeded from “relaxation alone, and from no venereal taint or private indiscretion.” The patient was convinced his illness sprang from fright, and was exacerbated by rainy and cold weather. What was Dr. Solomon’s recommended treatment for the poor man? Why, The Cordial Balm of Gilead, of course! The happy patient wrote: “I have found so much relief from these three bottles, that I wish you to send me a five-pound case.” Dr. Solomon added a note to the case file: Perfectly cured, by The Balm of Gilead, in ten weeks.” So what was in this miraculous cure? The list of ingredients was revealed in 1810. The cordial was composed of half a pint of brandy, infused with cardamom, lemon peel, tincture of cantharides (Spanish fly), and Sicilian oregano. So rather than being perfectly cured, it’s much more likely that Dr. Solomon’s patients were perfectly sedated, especially if he advised them to mix their cordial with wine. Dr. Solomon was an extremely wealthy man. According to Ben Wilson, his business turnover in 1807 was forty thousand pounds—an astounding amount of money. Solomon died in 1819 with most of his fortune intact, his wealth accumulated at the expense of a nervous and gullible public.
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But for most patients, nervous conditions were distressing. According to Dr. Thomas Beddoes—who took these conditions very seriously—those who were truly plagued by their nerves (unlike Mrs. Bennett) could suffer from an appalling list of symptoms, including heartburn, “prickings, startings, and most distressing throbbing in the belly,” tension, anxiety, memory loss, ringing in the ears, asthma, giddiness, and many other symptoms too depressing to list.