diseases they could remedy. One of the water sources he examined was a twenty-six-foot-deep well in Philadelphia, close to the corner of Sixth and Chestnut. This water, he wrote, âhas a slight fetid smell, is somewhat turbid, and after standing a few hours exposed to the air, deposits a yellow sediment.â It also had âa strong ferruginous tasteâ that he attributed to the presence of iron. Despite this sparkling waterâs disagreeable aroma and flavor, Rush had no hesitation in recommending it as a treatment for a ragbag of ailments including hysteria, worms, kidney disease, and âfoul ulcers of long standing,â although he warned that it could be harmful in cases of hypochondria and consumption. The only mystery was the smell. âTo what is the peculiar odor of the Philadelphia water owing,â he wondered. âIt has been ascribed to sulphur; but there are few direct proofs of sulphur being dissolved in a simple state in water.â
Undeterred by Rushâs unanswered question, Philadelphians flocked to the well and held their noses while they drank for their health. Eventually the well ran dry, so the determined citizens began searching for a way to reconnect the well to the source of this special water. Their search swiftlyended when it was discovered that the unpleasant smell that so puzzled Rush was caused by a leak in a nearby privy.
Despite such mishaps, Americans remained just as convinced as their counterparts in Europe that mineral waters had medicinal properties. Scientists investigated the properties of Americaâs spring waters, doctors prescribed them, and citizens journeyed for miles to try them in the hope of curing their illnesses. The most highly regarded natural springs could attract huge crowds. At its peak, the iron-rich waters of Yellow Springs in Chester County, Pennsylvania, would draw as many as three hundred bathers and drinkers a day. The springs of Saratoga in upstate New York were another popular destination. According to legend, the British war hero Sir William Johnson was the first white man to visit the springs. Johnson had found fame in 1755 during the French and Indian War, when his army of colonials and Native Americans held back the French advance at Lac du Saint-Sacrement, which he promptly renamed Lake George in honor of the British king. While the British celebrated Johnsonâs victory, he left the battlefield permanently wounded by a lead shot that lodged itself in his upper leg. By August 1767 this persistent wound, coupled with gout, had left Johnson unable to walk. So when a group of Mohawks offered to take him to the âmedicine spring,â he readily accepted. After several days at the spring Johnson claimed he was well enough to walk the rough trail home without assistance.
The story is almost certainly false. Johnson was a man prone to grand fibs. His claims of military expertise were repeatedly disputed by those he commanded, and while serving as a British diplomat, he deliberately overstated the strength of the Iroquois Confederacy to boost his own standing. It is also unlikely that no other white person would have found the spring by 1767, since there were already settlements close by at that time. But no one really cared if Johnsonâs tale was true or not. The story of the distinguished war veteran cured by a secret Native American spring hidden in the wilderness captured peopleâs imaginations and put Saratoga on the map. Visitors came from far and wide to sample its fizzing waters, including George Washington, who was so impressed that he later tried to buy the land around it, without success.
The fascination with the water of Saratoga and the nearby Ballston Spa was such that people began trying to bottle it. But this was an idea fraught with difficulty, as Colonel Otho Williams told Washington in a 1784 letter: âThe water ⦠cannot be confined so that the air will not, somehow or other, escape. Several