CHAPTER VIII.
HOMŒOPATHY CONTINUED. AMULETS—ROYAL TOUCH—PERKINSISM—MEDICAL EXPERIENCE OFTEN UNRELIABLE—HOMŒOPATHIC CURES ILLUSORY, ETC. ETC.
It is one of the hardest things in the world to persuade a man to disbelieve or even to question his own senses. We necessarily form opinions of men and things from our own observations, and in many instances without any other guide; and from a few brief observations imperfectly taken, men often form opinions in direct opposition to established principles of rational philosophy. A little reflection will show how extremely liable men are to be led astray by such means. Because, among the ancient Greeks and Romans, a few individuals who wore upon their persons certain shells or pieces of metal, or some peculiar device, escaped death in battle or contagion in the camp, the beholders were led to suppose that these things, by their talismanic influence, protected the wearers. This led to the use of amulets; and notwithstanding the absurdity and irrationality of the idea, and its constant refutation by every day's observation, the masses embraced it with implicit confidence, and clung to it for centuries. In later times, the hand of an English king graciously applied to a person afflicted with scrofula, gout, rheumatism, or other chronic affection, came to be regarded as a sovereign remedy for numerous disorders. Less than two centuries ago the Royal Touch was regarded as nearly infallible throughout all Europe. Charles II. is said to have applied his hand in that way to about one hundred thousand patients, a great majority of whom recovered. Less than a century ago, even within the memory of many still living, the famous Dr. Perkins cured diseases in nearly the same way, by means of his metallic points. Near the close of the last century he introduced his great discovery into Great Britain. His first patients were among the higher classes, and his success was so rapid that in a short time a great portion of the English nobility were cured, or imagined themselves cured, of numerous grave disorders, by the use of these little pieces of metal. A Perkinsian society was formed in London, composed chiefly of the higher orders. Princes of the royal blood, ministers of state, chancellors, bishops, and other dignitaries, learned professors and wealthy laymen, all united in one grand jubilee. This association had frequent public dinners, and held an annual celebration in honor of this great discovery, which seemed to be almost capable of reversing the decree of the Almighty, and rendering man immortal. In view of this, all other medical means were regarded as worthless; and for a time, rational medicine seemed almost to have come to a final end. Committees were chosen, who published, from time to time, reports of the unparalleled success of this new mode of treatment. More than five thousand cures were publicly certified to have been made in England in a short space of time. Diseases of all kinds, fevers, inflammations, consumptions, and broken bones, readily yielded to this new method, and were cured. And how was this multitude of miraculous cures effected? Simply by the use of two small pieces of metal, one of iron, the other of brass, about three inches in length, and pointed at one end. One of these was held in each hand of the operator, and the points being placed in contact, were gently drawn over the part of the body in which the pain was felt or the disease was supposed to be seated. By these means, if we may believe thousands of witnesses of the highest respectability, immediate and permanent relief was always effected in all curable cases. At length some individuals, who had more faith in the power of the imagination than in the efficacy of the tractors, procured painted wooden points, which so nicely resembled the metallic as to pass for the genuine, and it was found, upon trial, that these painted sticks effected cures quite as readily as the genuine metallic tractors. When these facts came to be generally known, it was found that even the genuine points ceased to cure. The charm was dissolved—the talisman fled—reason returned, and Perkinsism came to a speedy and final end.
The history of Perkinsism may serve as a key to Homœopathy and many other delusions. Both the history of the past and the experience of the present time show that mankind are extremely liable to be mistaken in regard to cures. Under every system and mode of practice, too much credit has often been given to medical means. A brief consideration of some well known principles of physiology will serve to explain the mystery of numerous (so called) wonderful cures.
Every one ought to know that in all diseases, even the most fatal, there is a tendency towards recovery. Every living animal body is furnished with organs designed to supply its waste and repair its injuries, and to maintain the whole system in a state of health. The ancients called this "The Vis Medicatrix Naturœ" and we consider it as a recuperative principle indispensable to animal life. When anything interferes with the economy of health, this power is immediately exerted to remove or overcome the disturbing cause, or to obviate its injurious effects, and in a very large portion of diseases this power is sufficient of itself, without assistance, to overcome the derangement, remove the disorder, and in due time to restore the system to its usual state of health. Many diseases are limited in their duration, and pass off in about a given period, and great numbers of nervous diseases are almost wholly under the influence of the mind. It is probable that nine-tenths of all cases of indisposition would result in recovery, if they were in no way interfered with. When the sick man, after making use of some supposed medicinal agent, is relieved and gets well, he is inclined to ascribe his recovery to the medicine. The conclusion may or may not be correct. Every recovery is the legitimate operation of the sanative powers of the organism, either with or without the aid of medicine; and as a large portion of diseases at length spontaneously pass off, we ought to be extremely cautious in ascribing recoveries to medicines employed; and when the supposed remedies are inert or of doubtful utility, the idea should be rejected altogether.
If we attempt to reason with the advocates of any kind of quackery, and endeavor to show them the absurdities of their positions, they will often tell us that they care nothing for theory so long as the practice is successful. So said the deluded votaries of Perkins, and so say the advocates of every kind of empiricism. Against such men, arguments are useless. They are deaf to all appeals to reason, and we are overwhelmed as with an avalanche by their recitals of what they have themselves seen; common sense is put in abeyance, and truth is confounded by the wonderful cures to which they have been witnesses.
No unprofessional man, merely from his own observations, can become qualified to judge of the merits of different modes of medical practice; his knowledge of the subject is too limited, and his observations are too brief and imperfect, to fit him for the task. He may have seen one or several patients recover under some particular treatment, and also others die under other treatment; but from such limited observations, without a correct knowledge of the pathological condition of each patient and all the circumstances attending it, he is not warranted in sitting in judgment upon a matter of so much importance. But it is sometimes said that "fools rush in where angels fear to tread," and we know that it is no uncommon thing for men and women, and sometimes children, in almost every grade of society, to make a very liberal use of the freedom of opinion in these matters, and the judgment of some sage matron is often boldly put in opposition to that of a host of men of learning and experience, and some very incompetent individual often takes it upon himself to give a flat denial to the highest medical authority. If we enter the workshop of the rudest mechanic, he gives us to understand that that is his peculiar province; he prides himself upon the possession of the knowledge and skill which belong exclusively to his kind of business, and he tacitly asks to be respected in his own vocation. All this is right. But when he enters our province, and sets up his brief and illusory experience in opposition to all medical knowledge and all true experience, neither he nor his experience deserve to be respected. If the nobility of England had left medicine where it belonged, in the hands of the legitimate profession, and confined their attention to their own proper duties, instead of undertaking to reform the medical world by means of Perkins's metallic points, they would not have become the silly dupes of that shallow delusion.
Some suppose that medical theories are of little or no consequence, and that a man may be a good practitioner with a false theory, or no theory at all. This is a great mistake. Every one must have some sort of theory; it may be faint and imperfect, but it is, nevertheless, the guide of his conduct. Therefore it is wrong to suppose that two systems, founded upon opposite theories, are alike in practice. If one man sows wheat and another thistles, they cannot expect similar crops; so if one gives his patient the decillionth of a grain of oyster shell, and another gives his a dose of ipecac, they cannot expect similar results. Homœopathic theories are so absurd, that all sagacious practitioners take special care to keep them as much as possible out of sight. All that they wish the public to know is that their scheme is a new and wonderful discovery made by the immortal Hahnemann; that it is the shortest, easiest, and surest road to health, and that it wholly discards all that pertains to the old and all but defunct system, and they assure us that the success of their mode of treatment is without a parallel. But we learn from history that Homœopathy, with all its boastings, has had but meagre success compared with many other delusions. Hahnemann denied the existence of a recuperative power in the animal organism, and held that every recovery under his plan of treatment was due alone to the medicine. Whilst unassisted nature did the cure, Hahnemann ascribed it to his futile attenuations.
There are various circumstances attending homœopathic practice, which tend to increase the number of apparent cures under that treatment. Many persons, having some slight real or imaginary indisposition, are just sick enough to take sugar pellets or powders, but not sick enough to require an ordinary dose of medicine of any kind; and when they have amused themselves sufficiently with homœopathic placeboes, they are cured. Some, out of curiosity, are induced to try the sugar doses, being assured that they are pleasant to take and always perfectly safe. Let the patient imagine himself sick, and again imagine himself well, and the cure is wrought.
There are many females, who, if we may believe them, are kept alive from day to day by the constant use of homœopathic attenuations. This class of patients are continually being cured, but are never able to dispense with the use of sugar mites.