The Feminist Origins of “Eight Cups a Day”
The water-healing quackery that empowered women’s medicine.
Excerpted from Marketplace of the Marvelous: The Strange Origins of Modern Medicine by Erika Janik, out now from Beacon Press.
Today, when it seems that most Americans carry a water bottle to
drink their eight daily glasses, the importance of water to health seems
obvious. But for 19th-century hydropaths, water was more
than just a sugar- and calorie-free drink: It was a social good able to
cure nearly every disease as well as the social and cultural ills that
threatened the health and stability of the nation.
Drinking was not the only way to enjoy water’s munificence, though;
water was also to be experienced through elaborate rituals of bathing,
showering, soaking, sweating, and wrapping. This diversity of baths, not
to mention the idea of bathing itself, was highly unusual for most
Americans. In 1835, a letter from a reader in the Boston Moral Reformer asked,
“I have been in the habit during the past winter of taking a warm bath
every three weeks. Is this too often to follow the year round?” Although
it offered cures for disease, hydropathy functioned more as a
water-based lifestyle plan with a vision of radically transforming the
world through personal health achieved through nature’s purest
substance.
Hydropathy grew out of the observations and experiments of Vincent
Priessnitz. A peasant born in 1799 on a farm in Grafenberg in Silesian
Austria, located in today’s Czech Republic, Priessnitz discovered
water’s potential as a cure-all after an 1816 farm accident. One day
while he was baling hay, a runaway horse and wagon trampled the teenaged
Priessnitz, leaving him with several broken ribs and a bruised left
arm. The doctor from a nearby town told him that the severity of his
injuries made it unlikely he’d ever work again. Priessnitz, however,
refused to accept this prognosis. He wrapped himself in wet cloths and
ate very little while consuming large quantities of cold water. To reset
his broken ribs, he pressed his abdomen against a chair and inhaled
deeply, allowing the expansion of his chest to push his ribs back into
place. Priessnitz eventually recovered from his injuries, and the
success of his self-cure led him to broaden his investigation into the
curing power of water.
Priessnitz sought not only to wash disease away but to deny it entry
into the body through a healthy lifestyle of diet and exercise.
Priessnitz argued that filth and a poor diet gave disease easy access
into the body. In The Hydropathic Encyclopedia,
American hydropath Dr. Russell Trall explained that disease was
“produced by bad air, improper light, impure food and drink, excessive
or defective alimentation, indolence or over-exertion, [or] unregulated
passion.” For Trall, it all boiled down to “unphysiological voluntary
habits.” In other words, sickness resulted from laziness, a lack of
exercise, and junk food, the familiar chords of obesity debates to this
day.
Perhaps hydropathy’s most visible legacy is in the popularly held belief in drinking eight glasses of water a day. This notion was appropriated and echoed with increasing fervor in the late 19th
century by the temperance movement. By the 1910s and 1920s, American
newspapers and magazines were filled with exhortations to consume eight
glasses of water for health on a daily basis. Although scientists and
doctors continue to disagree over how much water is enough, the idea of
drinking fluids regularly for health remains undisputed.
Priessnitz’s water cure became renowned throughout the Western
Hemisphere. Visitors marveled at Priessnitz’s ability to diagnose
disease and devise a treatment plan simply by studying the quality and
cast of a patient’s skin. He never checked the pulse, looked at the
tongue, or asked patients about their complaints. By 1840, nearly 1,700
patients per year sought treatment at Grafenberg.
Priessnitz’s success spurred countless imitators and admirers. The
first water cure in the United States opened its doors in 1843, followed
by a second the next year. Both were in New York City and were operated
by disillusioned regular doctors. But it was Mary Gove Nichols and her
husband, Thomas, who made hydropathy famous. Born in Goffstown, N.H., in
1810, Mary Sargeant Neal was the precocious daughter of a freethinking
father who encouraged her active and curious mind. As a teenager, she
pored over the pages of the books her medical-student brother brought
home, fascinated by the workings of the human body but perhaps also
wondering why she could find so little information on the health of
women like herself.
An unhappy marriage in 1831 to Hiram Gove, who disdained her reading
and creative writing, helped turn Mary into a champion of women’s rights
and a prominent health reformer. To ease her mental and physical
suffering, Mary defied her husband and turned back to the medical books
that had so enthralled her as a child. She discovered Sylvester Graham,
an early advocate of dietary reform, vegetarianism, and hygienic reform
and determined that women’s well-being and happiness depended on the
freedom achieved through personal health. Excited by her newfound
knowledge, Mary wanted to tell other women of the salvation that could
be found in knowing about and taking charge of their own bodies.
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