Pylimitics

"Simplicity" rearranged


Opodeldoc

In the mid 1800s, Samuel Beeton was a successful publisher in England. He published the first version of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” in the UK, and he also created several successful periodicals, including the “Boy’s Own Magazine” and “Beeton’s Christmas Annual” — which was the first magazine to publish one of Arthur Conan Doyles Sherlock Holmes stories.

Samuel’s biggest claim to fame, though, was probably marrying Isabella Mayson in 1856. Isabella immediately began writing for another of Beeton’s publications; “The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine.” She was pretty good at it. Good enough, in fact, that in 1861 she wrote (and he published) “Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management,” which was an enormous success, and continued to sell edition after edition. The Arthur Conan Doyle connection to the Beetons even cropped up again when a character in his novel “A Duet, with an Occasional Chorus” says “Mrs. Beeton must have been the finest housekeeper in the world, therefore Mr. Beeton must have been the happiest and most comfortable man.”

Mrs. Beeton’s Guide is still pretty well known today, and its 150th anniversary in 2011 was celebrated by the republication of some of the original recipes. But really this isn’t about Isabelle Beeton at all — it’s about something she recommended as a treatment for a sprain. She specified that: “The [sprained] joint is to be rubbed twice a day with flannel dipped in opodeldoc…” And there you have it; in 1851 “opodeldoc” was so familiar that it needed no explanation at all.

That’s most likely not the case today. “Opodeldoc” is in fact quite an old word, and may have been introduced by Paracelsus, a Swiss physician in the 1500s. As you might guess, being Swiss, his birth name was not “Paracelsus” — his full name was Phillippus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim. Clearly he had to shorten that to SOMEthing, and I suppose “Paracelsus” was as good as any. 

In any case, Paracelsus was the first to describe opodeldoc. He used the word to mean a sort of plaster you could apply to any sore part of your body. That’s the way Mrs. Beeton used it as well. Later, though, the same word was used to mean a kind of salve made from dissolved soap mixed with aromatic oils and herbs. In other words, the stuff you can get in about a thousand different varieties in any CVS now. 

It’s not clear what happened to the word “opodeldoc” — it seems like a pretty good description of what we know today as “lotion,” “shower gel,” “skin cream,” or for that matter, even “ace bandages,” if we revert to the original meaning. It’s probably a better fit for the liquid stuff though, because just as those bottles contain fascinating admixtures of polysyllabic concoctions, the word “opodeldoc” is probably a conjunction of “opopanax” (the resin from the root of a carrot-like plant), “bdellium” (an aromatic resin similar to myrrh — which I’m sure we all have lying around somewhere), and “aristolochia” (a shrub that in England is called “birthwort,” and was believed to help in some way during childbirth). 

There were even products called “opodeldocs” — for example, the London Times in 1790 ran an ad for Dr. Steer’s Opodeldoc: “The efficacy of this medicine in the Rheumatism, Lumbago, Bruises, Sprains, Cramps, &c. is universally acknowledged: it is equally serviceable in Numbness, Stiffness, and Weakness of the Joints, and in restoring a proper Circulation to the Limbs when in a Paralytic state. It is also excellent for Burns and Scalds, as well as for the Sting of venomous Insects.” 

In fact, Dr. Steer’s Opodeldoc had applications even beyond what Mrs. Beeton would have countenanced. According to Dr. Steer (or at least according to his advertisement), “It is the best embrocation for Horses that are wrung in the Withers.” “Embrocation,” by the way, is really just another word for “opodeldoc;” gooey stuff you rub on whatever’s bothering you. Since by now this very article is probably what’s bothering you the most, you might be tempted to slather your screen with one of those liniments. That means it’s time for this public service announcement: keep opodeldocs and embrocations well away from your electronic devices at all times!



About Me

I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated pup Chocolate. I shouldn’t be surprised, but she mostly speaks in doggerel. You can find her contributions tagged with Chocolatiana.