Quackery Unmasked

Front matter

QUACKERY UNMASKED:

OR

A CONSIDERATION OF THE MOST PROMINENT

Sketch of Medical History

QUACKERY UNMASKED.

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 occu- pied 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 observa- tion 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.

Homœopathy

In Great Britain, when any particular kind of quackery gains a temporary ascendancy over others, it is said to wear the bell. Although we have no authority to settle questions of rank in that army, I suppose no one will object to placing Homœopathy at the head of the regiment for a single review; and if, after sundry marches and counter-marches, this company shall be found at the other extremity of the regiment, no one need be disappointed. Samuel Hahnemann has been called the founder of this sect. He was born at a place called Messein, in Upper Saxony, in 1755, and graduated at the Medical School at Leipsic at the early age of 20. During his pupilage he seems to have imbibed a strong dislike to the profession, and instead of engaging in the practice of medicine after his graduation, he employed his time in translating several German publications, and contributing to various miscellaneous works. After plodding along in that way nearly twenty years, he broached the scheme of Homœopathy, and in 1796 published his first essay on the subject. It does not appear that he ever practised medicine as taught at Leipsic, but, after probably forgetting most that he had learned during the brief period of his scholarship, he broke out with a scheme of his own getting up, although it does not appear to have been made entirely of new materials. It is well known that, at the time Hahnemann was a pupil at Leipsic, medical science in that school was extremely crude and imperfect, and much of the theory that was taught him has long since been exploded. Many important truths had been established, but these were mingled with numerous false theories, and the clergy had not entirely released their hold upon the profession.

Hahnemann probably had for his text-books the writings of Galen, Sydenham, Boerhaave, Haller, Van Swieten and Cullen; Jenner was at that time in his early boyhood, and the great lights which have since illumined the medical world had not yet dawned. He appears to have imbibed the wild, visionary spirit of Galen, and like him to have manifested a haughty contempt for the doctrines and opinions of all other men. Instead of setting himself at work to correct errors, reform abuses, and enlighten and improve the profession, he cast it all aside at a single dash, repudiated all the truths that observation and experience had established, and set at naught every principle of philosophy and common sense. Bitterly prejudiced against all that had been taught him at the schools, and inheriting an intellect in the highest degree chimerical, he made a bold attempt to set up a scheme of his own. This was based upon two prominent ideas—the first of which is comprised in the Latin phrase, "similia similibus curantur"—likes cures like. This did not originate with Hahnemann, but was embraced in the old adage which had been current for centuries before his time, viz., that "the hair of the same dog will cure the bite." Hahnemann amplified this idea, and attempted to prove it by facts and observations. He discovered nothing, but mere- ly seized upon this old false proverb, and used it for the foundation of his system. Because laxatives sometimes cure diarrhœa, frost-bitten parts are sometimes relieved by being rubbed with snow, and a dose of senna sometimes cures colic, Hahnemann fancied that he saw his theory confirmed. He forget another proverb, viz., "Like produces like in endless succession," and overlooked an established principle of philosophy which declares that (cœteris paribus) whatever increases the cause, increases the effect. His mind became riveted to this one idea, and he saw and heard nothing but "similia similibus curantur."

It is impossible to conceive a greater absurdity than is contained in this Homœopathic dogma. It is one of the wildest conjectures imaginable. The principle is contradicted by every rational thought and word and deed, throughout the world. Everywhere, in every vocation, and in every department of business, it meets with a flat contradiction. If the farmer's fields are too full of weeds, does he sow more weeds? If the soil is too wet, does he irrigate it? If his team is overloaded, does he add more by way of relief? If his wheels are blocked, does he pile the obstructions still higher? No, common reason and common experience teach the very reverse of all this; he cuts up the weeds, drains the wet soil, takes off a part of the too heavy load, and endeavors by the most direct means to remove whatever obstructs his way. If the painter's colors are too dark, will he add lampblack to make them lighter? or if they are too light, will he use whiting to make them darker? If they are too thick, will he add more dry material? or if they are too thin, will he add turpentine? Applied to any department of business, the idea is equally absurd and false. Every rational principle in medicine is founded upon, and guided by, the same kind of common sense that is always employed by the farmer and mechanic, and is manifested in every department of domestic life.

Having laid down his principles, Hahnemann set about making experiments upon himself and others in order to find articles which, given to a well man, would induce the disease or symptoms of the disease he wished to cure; because, according to his doctrine, whatever would make a well man sick, would cure one sick and having the same symptoms. His theory of cure was this: "The medicine (he says) sets up in the suffering part of the organism an artificial, but somewhat stronger disease, which on account of its great similarity and preponderating influence, takes the place of the original disease, and the organism from that time forth is influenced only by the artificial complaint; and as soon as the temporary effect of the medicine passes off, the patient is cured." This is the rationale of his theory. Now let us examine its workings. Take a case of epistaxis, which in common language is bleeding at the nose. Hahnemann's remedy is charcoal, which, according to his theory, sets up in the system of the patient an artificial action somewhat stronger than the original disease—or, to use his own language, "slightly aggravates the disease," and when the effect of the medicine passes off, the patient is to be cured. But how long must the patient continue to bleed faster than before, in order to be cured? The effects of the medicine last, according to Jahr's and Possart's New Manual (page 565) just thirty-six days, and if the patient can hold out until that time, he will be sure to be cured homœopathically.

Take another case. A child is sick with croup—he breathes with great difficulty—he throws his head back and gasps wildly at every sonorous inspiration. He cannot hold out much longer, and the least aggravation of his must destroy him immediately. But before he can be cured or relieved homœopathically, he must swallow a medicine that will produce, at least, a small increase of the symptoms immediately after it is taken. (See Organon of Homœopathic Medicine, page 204.] The articles proper to be given are, according to Hull's Laurie, page 348, aconite, and sulphuret of potash. The effects of the former continue from one to two days, and of the latter sixty days.—[See Jahr's Manual, pages 1 and 267.]

So, then, after bringing separate parts of this fine theory together, we see that if the patient is not destroyed immediately by the small in- crease of his disorder consequent upon the first homœopathic dose, he may live, if he can, until the end of sixty days, when he will surely be cured homœopathically. In like manner this homœopathic principle of cure may be applied to almost any other disease with the like result. Now what man of common sense would think of conducting any kind of business upon such a theory? What man, having a friend nearly strangled, would draw the cord a little tighter to relieve him? What engineer, whose boiler was ready to burst, would let on more steam to save it?

As has been already stated, Hahnemann's system was based upon two chief principles. The first was his "similia similibus curantur" which we have briefly considered. Of this he did not claim to be the original inventor, but said that it had long been recognized and acted upon. But he did claim to be the first to discover that the power of medicinal substances may be indefinitely increased by dilution and trituration. The power thus imparted to medicines he called their dynamic power; in other words, their strong or powerful power. Having settled in his mind this second principle, he proceeded to fix upon the details, and accordingly established the following rules of attenuation. When the article to be used is a solid, he directs one grain of it to be mixed and pulverized with one hundred grains of sugar of milk—the rubbing be continued a long time. This is what Hahnemann called dynamizing—that is, making the article powerful. When this process has been continued long enough, it is called the first attenuation. One grain is next to be taken from; and added to another hundred grains of and dynamized as in the first instance. This makes the second attenuation. One grain next to be taken from this, and added to another hundred grains of sugar, and the process continued as before. By this rule, all the attenuations are to be made. Hahnemann considered the thirtieth as the most proper for use.

If the medicine is a liquid, the first attenuation is made by adding one drop of the tincture to one hundred drops of alcohol contained in a new vial; it is then to have at least one hundred shakes. The bottle is then to be marked 1, that is, the first attenuation. One drop from this vial, added to one hundred drops of alcohol in another new vial, with the hundred shakes, makes the second attenuation, and the vial is to be marked 2. One drop is next to be taken from the second, and added to one hundred drops of alcohol in another quite new vial, and after receiving its hundred shakes it becomes the third attenuation, and is marked 3. In this manner the fourth attenuation is made from the third, the fifth from the fourth, and so on up to any required number; and as the power of the medicine is increased by every attenuation, it is generally thought most prudent to stop at thirty, as it might be unsafe to carry it farther—although Hahnemann did carry some of his as far as two thousand, but says he came very near killing his patient by giving him six or eight drops of this high attenuation.

The rules for attenuation have already been given. Now let us suppose that the pharmaceutist—that is, the apothecary who prepares the medicine—in order to have a sufficient supply on hand to meet the demands of all his customers, weighs out a single grain of chalk or any other article which he intends to attenuate only to the fifteenth degree; now, how much sugar will it require to complete the process?

The computation is readily made as follows: 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 grs. ÷ 240 grains in a cubic inch. = 4,166,667,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 cub. in. ÷ 254,358,061,056,000 inches in a mile. = 16,381,000,000,000 cubic miles. ÷ 263,900,000,000 cubic miles in the globe. = 61 globes.

By this calculation, we see that the mass of sugar required to carry the process only to the fifteenth degree, would be sufficient to form sixty-one globes of the size of the earth.

The quantity of water or alcohol required to attenuate a single drop of any liquid to the thirtieth degree, would exceed the utmost bounds of the imagination.

If perchance a single drop of the juice of pulsatilla, or any other medicinal plant, has fallen into the Atlantic Ocean, and the winds and tides have given it a sufficient number of shakes, then every drop of that ocean is more than a million times as strong as the thirtieth attenuation; and yet, according to homœopathic rules, in order to give it sufficient dynamic power, one drop from this ocean would require further attenuation by being mixed with the waters of millions and millions of other oceans. The whole quantity required to attenuate a single drop of any fluid to the thirtieth degree, would be more than sufficient to fill the orbit of Saturn, to blot out the sun and quench the stars.

If it be thought that these statements are extravagant and untrue, any one may make the calculation for himself, or get any competent mathematician to do it. But if the thirtieth attenuation creates so much surprise, what shall be thought of the two thousandth? Hahnemann once, at least, according to his own statement, carried the process thus far; but no mathematician has ever undertaken to give the result of a dilution of a single drop to that extent. No one has ever dared to attempt the computation—the whole universe would be quite too little, and infinite space scarcely sufficient to afford it room. In this contemplation we may be lost in amazement for a moment, but a little attention to the subject will show us that so much as a whole drop has never been attenuated to the thirtieth degree, only extreme fractional parts are carried forward to the end of the process that at last an ounce of the liquor may not contain more than a decillionth of the drop first employed.

Nearly the same result may be obtained in the following manner, viz.: Take a new vial and put into it one hundred drops of alcohol, then add one drop of whatever liquid may be required, give the vial one hundred shakes, and then turn out all except one drop. Quite as much as one drop will adhere to the sides of the vial after all has been emptied out that will run. Next add another hundred drops to this apparently empty vial, and give it another hundred shakes, and so continue the process up to the thirtieth time; and the last hundred drops will contain the decillionth of a drop of the tincture first employed, if the process has been correctly performed. But whether it does or does not contain any of the medicine used in the beginning, is beyond the power of man to tell.

Hahnemann assures us that the almost infinitesimal doses of articles that have been considered inert, do, after being prepared in the manner described, actually possess immense power. The following are the effects of one decillionth of a grain of charcoal, as stated in Jahr's and Possart's New Manual, page 111.

"General Symptoms.—Pains with anguish, heat, despair, or followed by languor. Rheumatic drawing and tearing, with lameness, especially in the limbs, with distress caused by flatulence, or with stoppage of breath, when affecting the chest. Pains as if sprained in the lower limbs, or as after straining by lifting. Burning pains in the limbs and bones. Throbbing in the body, here and there. Ailments caused by straining in lifting, and by riding in a carriage. Chronic ailments caused by abuse of cinchona. Morbid conditions like influenza. Cholera. Tremor and twitching of single limbs, in the day-time. The limbs go to sleep. Paralysis. Most of the pains come on during a walk in the open air. The limbs, early in the morning, after rising, feel lamed and bruised. Debility of the bends of the joints. Very weak, sometimes into fainting, early in the morning, in bed, or when beginning to walk. Sudden prostration of strength. Towards noon he feels weary all over, with disposition to lean the head against something and to rest himself. Paralysis and complete colapse of pulse in the Cholera Asiatica. Liable to taking cold.

"Skin.—Formication over the whole skin. Itching all over, in the evening, after getting warm in bed. Burning of the skin, here and there. Itch, especially dry, like rash. Fine, granular eruption. Nettlerash. Herpes. Reddish-brown moles. Aneurisms by anastomosis. Aneurisms. Painless ulcers at the tips of the fingers and toes. Readily bleeding, fetid ulcers, with burning pain, and acrid ichorous pus. Chilblains. Varices. Glandular indurations.