QUACKERY UNMASKED.
CHAPTER I.
SKETCH OF MEDICAL HISTORY.
The early history of medicine is involved in much obscurity. Fable represents the healing art as a special gift from Heaven, and the first practitioners as having descended from the gods. For many centuries medical knowledge was confined almost entirely to the clergy. In the dark ages, when gross superstition held dominion over the minds of men, and polytheism peopled the universe with a multitude of deities, every disease was supposed to be the work of some angry god, and the benighted sufferers sought relief by various superstitious rites and ceremonies, which were intended to appease the wrath of some imaginary demon. They offered sacrifices, made vows, did penance, and made use of amulets, charms, and exorcisms, hoping by such means to gain the favor of the gods. For centuries the art of healing seemed inseparably connected with that theological delusion, which so long held the world in chains. Under such circumstances, medicine could not be expected to make much progress; but as superstition gave way, and reason and observation were adopted as guides, the profession improved, and made efforts to rid itself of its unprofitable alliance. It is probable that medicine received its earliest culture in Athens, Rome and Egypt; but so scanty and imperfect is its history, that we are often obliged to pass over whole centuries without obtaining any reliable information concerning its condition. But as there can have been no interregnum among diseases, efforts of some sort must have been constantly employed for the relief of the suffering, and thousands probably studied and labored, and devoted their lives to the cause, and finally passed away without leaving any durable record of their efforts.
As we cast eyes over the brief and fabulous pages of ancient history, almost the first reliable name which we find, as we descend the scale, is that of Hippocrates, who lived less than five hundred years before the Christian Era. He discarded the doctrine of demoniac influences, and took a common-sense view of the subject of medicine. Being himself a lineal descendant of a long line of medical ancestors, he entered upon the profession early in life, and pursued it with ardor to extreme old age. He did all that it was possible to do, in his time, to purge the profession from superstitious and false notions, and establish it upon rational principles. Perhaps this was the first bold attempt to rescue the healing art from the dominion of fanaticism, and place it upon the solid basis of truth and reason. It was his good fortune to lay the corner stone of this mighty edifice, upon which all the superstructure must forever rest. But the darkness that superstition and bigotry had spread around him, was too profound to be wholly dissipated by one luminary. The deep awe with which pagans regarded dead bodies, and their superstitious ideas respecting the existence of the soul, presented an almost insuperable barrier to the study of human anatomy, and under this embarrassment it is evident that medicine could only make slow and imperfect progress. For a long period nearly all anatomical knowledge was derived from the lower animals, and consequently was only comparative.
The study of the healing art has always been "the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties." Although it has ever sought the good of the whole world, the whole world has often thrown obstacles in the way of its advancement. The herculean labor of successive generations, and the efforts of the most powerful intellects, have been required to bring the profession to is present condition. So much persevering, unrequited labor has never been bestowed upon any other subject. The medical inquirer has ever been obliged to labor, clad in armor. Ignorance, bigotry and superstition have met him at every advance, and it has been only by overcoming these that he could hope to succeed. As fast as these have declined, medical science has occupied the ground. A knowledge of Anatomy laid the foundation for Physiology; Physiology prepared the way for Pathology, and the Principles and Practice of Medicine placed the experience of the whole world under contribution. Therapeutics claimed for her use the vegetable, mineral and animal kingdoms, the collateral sciences became cultivated as auxiliaries, and Botany, Mineralogy, Chemistry and Zoölogy became branches of medical study; and from these Pharmacy sprung up to be the handmaid of Materia Medica. An inquiry into the laws of life and causes of death laid the foundation for Medical Jurisprudence, and the consideration of the intellectual and moral faculties built up a system of Ethics. So that now, medical literature embraces a much larger field than any other profession; it may almost be said to have swallowed up all others. Whatever is valuable in history is hers—the experience of more than two thousand years is open to her inspection and use—and all the improvements and discoveries that are continually being made in every department of science are submitted to her observation and advantage. Her whole history shows, that she has ever readily appropriated to her own use every valuable discovery which has by any means been brought to light. She has gleaned and treasured up every important item of medical knowledge, and has become the grand repository of all that is valuable in the profession. Nothing has been omitted or rejected that was worth preserving. She has brought her observations down to the present hour, and her archives to-day contain every has been known, or is known, that is worth knowing; and whatever she rejects, the world may rest assured is worthless.
Call this the old practice, or the new practice, or by whatever name you please, it is nevertheless the only true science of medicine. It is founded upon the same principles of reason and common sense that all other sciences are built upon—it rests to-day upon those everlasting principles laid down by Pythagoras and Hippocrates, just as the science of Astronomy rests upon the discoveries of Copernicus and Newton. It does not pretend to be perfect, and perhaps it never will be. It does not promise always to heal the sick, and never undertakes to raise the dead, but it is probably as near what it should be as any other human institution, and contains within itself the elements of perpetual progress. The greatest minds and most cultivated intellects have labored long and zealously in its cause. If they have not been seen in the desk or in the forum, it is not because they were less learned, or less worthy, or their labors less important; but because their forum was the silent chamber of the sick, and their labors consisted more of thoughts than of words. But if any wish to see their written history and examine their printed tablets, we are not ashamed to show them; they will compare favorably with the productions of any other class of men, and it is certain that no other class has ever exhibited so much disinterested philanthropy.
Legitimate medicine has no secrets. Of all her vast acquirements, she withholds nothing from the public. All that she has collected, from all ages, and nations, and countries, is freely offered to all the world, and whenever required is bestowed upon suffering humanity, without money and without price. Quackery may dash its mercenary waves against her, and send its spray mountains high; but she will still pursue the even tenor of her way, unmoved by its fitful storms. She has for her foundation a rock broader and more enduring than Gibraltar; the everlasting principles of truth and reason I the pillars upon which she rests; her dedicated to humanity, and will stand until "last shock of time shall bury the empires the world in undistinguished ruin."
Having given a brief description of Regular Medicine, it seems reasonable to inquire, in next place, what is Quackery. In general it may be said to be the employment of any medicine or medical scheme which the regular profession rejects; it bears the same relation to regular medicine that counterfeit bills do to the genuine. Both are spurious and worthless, and each dishonored at the fountain-head—both are the off-spring of unchastened cupidity, and both aim to take advantage of the ignorant and credulous. If we search the history of quackery, we shall find that it consists of a multitude of pathies and isms—of pretended discoveries and great improvements. Each one has enjoyed its brief day of favor, and passed off to make room for others, perhaps differing in external appearance, but always of the same cryptogamian class and mushroom genus.
We often hear persons declare that they do not know what to do, or what to believe, in regard to medicine, because there are so many different courses pointed out. If such people would just make use of the same common sense that they exercise in their every-day affairs, there would be no difficulty in the matter; they would always come to a speedy and correct conclusion. If one wishes for a guide in matters of law, he does not consult the newspapers, or take the advice of all the females in his neighborhood, but makes inquiry of some learned counsellor. If he wishes to know the value of some strange piece of metal, he goes directly to the goldsmith, and he does not think lightly of his opinion because the man may have pursued the same business for twenty or thirty years. And if the goldsmith decides that the substance in question is gold, he will not be likely to throw it away on his way home because the first boy he meets tells him it is nothing but mica. If one has a suspected bill, he goes directly to the bank, or some professed expert. But men will not always exercise the same common sense in questions that relate to their life or health; they often shut their eyes, and stop their ears, against every legitimate source of information; will be guided only by their own morbid curiosity, or listen to the advice of the most incompetent. An individual in whose general integrity they have no confidence, and whose opinion or word in any other matter is not considered worth a straw, is often taken as a guide in some deeply important medical question, without any misgivings. When we look around and see what ravages quackery in its multiplied and continually multiplying forms is making among all classes, we are almost ready to conclude that this is an age of extraordinary delusion, and that quackery never ran thus rampant before; but if we turn over the pages of ancient or modern history, we shall find that the same elements have been always in operation; the wild vagaries of the imagination have ever been at war with reason and truth; and common sense has been taken captive by ignorance and fraud. Numerous false schemes, quite as empty and quite as worthless as those of Perkins and Hahnemann, have appeared, raged, boasted, and made their converts, and finally passed away.
In the early part of the sixteenth century, a man by the name of Paracelsus, a native of Switzerland, made his appearance as a bold empiric. Like all others of the class, he set at naught and held in contempt and derision all existing medical knowledge, and announced that he had made a great discovery that was to supersede all other medical means. And what was this pretended discovery? Something to purify the blood, or an infallible remedy for rheumatism, or scrofula, or consumption? No, none of these; but an infallible Elixir, that would prolong human life indefinitely, and render man immortal. But, alas! this superlative delusion was doomed to a speedy refutation in his own person, for he died at the age of 48 with his immortalizing elixir by his side. Before his death, many tasted, believed, and drank of it—not to live forever, but to die like fools.
All experience shows that mankind are ever more ready to believe pleasant falsehoods than disagreeable truths. Quackery takes advantage of this proclivity, and therefore caters for the universal appetite. A perfect quack is a most obsequious sycophant — his medicines are always exactly what the patient wants. They are never disagreeable, are perfectly safe in all cases, and always certain to cure. These are what every sick man wants, and therefore strives with all his might to believe, and often does come to believe against the strongest evidence and clearest reason. The ancient quacks pretended to cure their patients by the use of charms and spells, and the modern quacks pretend to cure theirs by means often equally ridiculous and equally worthless; and in each instance the intellectual and not the physical organs have been operated upon; and whenever any positive benefit has resulted from such proceedings, it has been accomplished through the medium of the mind.
Although quackery comprises men and things of all imaginary colors, shapes and conditions, from the coxcomb who dispenses sugar pellets, to the knavish Yankee who assumes the savage with his pretended Indian remedies, yet there are certain family traits which are common to them all. All pretend to be new and very important discoveries—all are bitterly hostile to the regular profession—all boast of their wonderful success and rapid increase, and all are only so many different views in the same great panorama passing rapidly along, never to return.
Having made these preliminary remarks, I shall next proceed to notice individually some of the most prominent varieties of quackery that are now or have recently been actors in the great drama of medical delusions.