Time collapses in 1869 guidebook

In the 1970s, UF Press published the
Florida Bicentennial Commission's
reprint of an 1869 guidebook 

The reprint edition included a
new introduction and index.
(Photos by Gerri Bauer)

Do I laugh or wince at the "new disease" mentioned in an 1869 guidebook to Florida? The ailment is described as a state of "nerves and mental exhaustion." Its cause? "... the harassing strain of our American life, our over-active, excitable, national temperament," a result of "... our artificial, unquiet lives."

I'm not laughing. The condition plagues millions today. Yet the author, a medical doctor, wrote those words 157 years ago. That was long before the internet, smart phones, social media, 24/7 news, automobiles, electricity, television, computers. It's odd to realize people without those distractions were just as unsettled by ever-changing realities and a quickening pace of life as we are today. 

That's not the only commonality I discovered in A Guide-Book of Florida and the South (University Press of Florida, reprint 1978), by Daniel Garrison Brinton (1837-1899). Brinton was esteemed in his day. In addition to practicing medicine, he was a research scientist, author, scholar, professor and leader of national organizations.

He seems ahead of his time in many ways, not just in recognizing a new malady. His guidebook's chapter on Hints for Health Seekers showcases some practices we consider essential in the 21st century. 

In addition to suggesting travel to healthful climates, he shares these ideas that still hold merit: 

• An attempt at cheerfulness by valetudinarians, meaning persons unduly anxious about their health (yes, I had to look that up). A good traveling companion was essential, so that the anxious person wouldn't fall prey to "Giant Despair, who is still as ready as ever to pounce on unwary travelers, especially on wet days, alone in dull country taverns.''
• The valetudinarian should collect something. In other words, have a hobby. Collecting ideas included bugs, butterflies, mosses, fossils, flowers, minerals (rocks?) and the wrong-to-me "Indian curiosities, birds' eggs and skins." The pursuit would get the person outdoors, and the organization and arrangement of items would keep them busy indoors during bad weather.
• Deep breathing. Brinton gives step-by-step instructions and emphasizes the slow exhale that we know contributes to quieting of nerves.
• Free use of olive oil; and coffee and chocolate were permissible.
• No tobacco - "absolutely prohibited in every form."

Other recommendations are dated:

• Five or six glasses of milk daily for consumptives, occasionally spiked with "a trifle" of cognac or rum. 
• Three or four eggs daily, some taken "in the guise of a 'flip' with pale sherry."
• Free use of butter
• Tea sparingly; it being "barely permissible."
• Rye or whiskey, well diluted, allowed three times a day if tolerated.

The book was written before the discovery that mosquitoes carry yellow fever. Quinine's curative effect, however, was known. Brinton advised health seekers to always carry quinine pills and to take them if exposed to "marsh miasmas." 

He also recommended what we today call exfoliation, done then by salt and water scrubs or by dry rubbing.

Years separate us from this 1869 gem, which the Florida Bicentennial Commission reprinted in the 1970s. Yet, as I've discovered through my other avocational journeys through historical  material, time also collapses. That's when our common humanity shines through, no matter how many differences separate us.