DELUSIONS AS TO THE CURATIVE VALUE OF DRUGS.
MEDICINES that are sure cures for all the diseases to which humanity
is heir, are not the spurious discoveries of the quacksalver and
patent-medicine vender alone, but some very intelligent persons believe
that if there is not a panacea, there is at least a remedy, for every
disease. In cases where the patient does not recover, they believe that
either the disease was not thoroughly understood or the medicines which
were given were not properly selected.
This is a great error, because there is no such thing as a specific
or infallible remedy for any disease, and, on the other hand, it is
quite possible that most patients, with proper nursing and diet, would
naturally recover without any drugs or medicines whatever. Outside
of those drugs, like ether, chloroform, opium, or morphine, that are
employed for the purpose of deadening the sensibility of the nerves, so
as to render them insensible to pain, there is not another drug that
is absolutely sure and true in its medical effects. Some few are very
useful at times, but the great bulk of medicines do much more harm than
good.
Medicine in its broad sense means a knowledge of the cause, course,
treatment and ultimate results of disease. The study of medicine cannot
be circumscribed by dogma or theory, nor can it be mastered in a few
short years of study at the very best medical schools. It requires a
mind adapted by nature for a plodding investigation of her laws, and
incessant application, long after the college curriculum is ended. In
fact, the student must unlearn much of the stereotyped lessons of the
text-books, and this is particularly true of the supposed medicinal
effects of drugs, which are always exaggerated. When physicians
really have a threatening case, under their observation and care, the
attributed therapeutic action of drugs is nearly always disappointing,
and very often injurious, and they are forced to let the drugging
entirely alone, and bring their skill to bear on measures which support
the strength and vitality of the system, so that nature can effect a
cure in her own way. This may seem to some simple doctoring, but I can
assure the reader that it requires the highest degree of medical skill,
notwithstanding the droll sarcasm of Voltaire, that “medical science
is the art of amusing the patient while nature performs the cure.”
There is neither skill nor much learning required to give an ordinary
prescription; that the average apothecary could do with the greatest
exactness. But science and medical skill can be exhausted in managing
and husbanding the resources of nature, in order to effect a cure.
Medicine no longer stands alone as a simple art, based on theoretical
deductions, as it was less than a hundred years ago, but it has become
a department of natural science, a part of the natural history of the
human race.
Disease is as much a vital process as health, only in one case the
vital function is perverted, or destructive, while in health it is
constructive. The germ theory of disease and cellular pathology are
clearly within the domain of biological research, while chemistry has
solved many physiological processes. Mental philosophy has been no less
serviceable in the department of medicine, by teaching the wonderful
influence of thought and emotions on the physiological functions of the
organs.
A one-sided education is inadequate to appreciate the subject of
healing or teaching. A comprehensive knowledge of all that bears on
the subject of health and disease has several important objects in
view, namely, it thoroughly acquaints the doctor with all of nature’s
resources for the amelioration or cure of disease; and it gives him
judgment in all cases to avoid irreparably wrong treatment, which
places obstacles in the road of nature’s efforts to heal spontaneously.
The quack or professional imbecile will, in the ordinary course of
diseases, be accredited with remarkable cures; in fact, the cures
wrought by a quack or an ignorant person are just as welcome and
valuable to the patient interested as if they were accomplished under
the advice of the most erudite and skillful physician, but the invalid
ran the chances of malpractice or bad treatment at the hands of the
quack, which might have cost him his life, because the incompetent
healer does not know when his method of treatment does mischief. Every
method of cure may possess merits of its own, which are beneficial when
the disease or conditions for its employment are present, whether this
is mind cure, water cure, or anything else that you may name. All that
any system of treatment can do is simply to stimulate the curative
force of nature, which is the only _first cause_ of any cure.
The reparative energy of nature has never been duly recognized, because
the selfishness and pride of the doctors will not concede this as often
as they ought. The doctor should be the most useful as a monitor to the
sick, in guiding and controlling thought and conduct, in harmony with
the curative energy of nature. From this point of view the pretensions
of anyone effecting this or that cure are only a delusion, because the
doctor effects nothing, he only assists, guides, and directs towards
effecting a cure. What this curative force is has by no means been
understood. Some believe it identical with life or vital action, which
manifests itself only in organized substances, but even if we admit
this identity, we are balked again, because we do not really know what
life is, any more than we know what electricity is. Descartes resolved
life into matter and motion; this, however, is rather the phenomena of
life and gives us no idea of the real essence of the force that we
call life. There is another theory, that all life whenever or wherever
found is a spiritual force, ethereal and universal. For our purpose,
the discussion of this question has no particular value, were it not
for the fact that life, or vital activity, wherever we find it in
organized substances, whether in the lowest living thing or in the
highest type of physical development, is accompanied by or is endowed
with the natural tendency to repair defects or injuries in that in
which it is active.
Regeneration, or the curative process of nature, is always the handmaid
of vital activity. It is present at the earliest formation and division
of a cell, which constitutes the unit of all organisms. Just as one
brick is laid on the other with mortar or cement between them, so as to
make a whole wall of a building, so are our bodies built up of minute
cells, one added to the other, with cement between them, until the
entire structure is completed. There is no tissue of the living body
which was not at one time during its existence a cell. This curative
force is beautifully illustrated in the lower animals, where parts of
organs are replaced to a far greater extent than among warm-blooded
animals.
Professor L. Landois, in his work on “Human Physiology,” says that
“when a _hydra_ is divided into two parts, each part forms a new
individual—nay, if the body of the animal be divided into several
parts in a particular way, each part gives rise to a new individual.
The _planarians_ also show a great capacity for producing lost parts.
Spiders and crabs can reproduce lost feelers, limbs, and claws; snails,
part of the head, feelers, and eyes, provided the central nervous
system is not injured. Many fishes reproduce fins, even the tail
fin. Salamanders and lizards can produce an entire tail, including
bones, muscles, and even the posterior part of the spinal cord, while
the triton reproduces an amputated limb, the lower jaw, and an eye.
This reproduction requires that a small stump be left, while total
extirpation of the parts prevents reproduction. In amphibians and
reptiles the regeneration of organs and tissues, as a whole, takes
place after the type of embryonic development, which is by cell
division, and the same is true as regards the histological processes
which occur in the regenerated tail and other parts of the body of the
earth worm.” Comparative pathological anatomy clearly demonstrates the
inherent curative power of nature, and this is also apparent in the
vegetable kingdom, and together they deliver a lecture on the “art of
healing” from the stage of creation, in silent and modest language, but
eloquently instructive to the thoughtful observer.
The question now naturally arises How far this curative energy of
nature operates in warm-blooded animals, and especially in man? The
answer must be that, while it falls short of reproducing parts of
organs or even tissues in the same degree of perfection as in the lower
orders, the innate tendency towards regeneration and recovery from
injury and disease is, on certain lines, practically the same. There is
not the slightest doubt that ninety per cent. of all cures, whether the
invalid took this, that, or the other medicine, or whether the method
of treatment was homeopathic, allopathic, or mind cure, are entirely
due to this inherent curative energy; and the other ten per cent.
may have required some active remedy, but this, too, alone, without
nature’s healing force, would have been ineffectual.
What is ordinarily termed mind cure is not mind cure in the sense
that the term implies, but it is simply the mind toying or playing
with the idea of a cure, for while the mind is thus engaged, nature’s
energy is accomplishing the result or cure. This is the only rational
explanation, and corresponds with the cures that nature is continually
making in the lower orders of animals. If the recovery of the sick
depended entirely upon the caprice and wisdom of the doctor, and not
on the reparative forces of nature, the race would soon die out. I
fully recognize the fact that the curative force can be stimulated;
this may be done through the influence of nourishing food, alcoholic
stimulants, a drug or medicine, or through purely mental influences. No
physician can estimate how much merit he can accredit to the methods
or substances he employs in any particular case that recovers, and how
much to the lady physician, Dame Nature. This old lady doctor is ever
active, and the most inert drugs, employed or administered with her
assistance, have achieved wonderful cures; this the history of medicine
confirms. The tar water cure of Bishop Berkeley is an illustration
how an inert substance is capable of making for itself an enviable
reputation for curing ailments, like pleurisy, pneumonia, erysipelas,
asthma, indigestion, hypochondria, and other diseases. This remedy
had the vehement indorsement of one of the greatest metaphysicians of
the English-speaking world, and that the cures reported by him were
genuine no one will doubt for a moment; but the bishop, like many of
our day, was determined to have a remedy to cure disease, where none
was required, but the mind had to be humored, while nature was actively
repairing the disorder. To-day almost everyone is satisfied, that the
virtues ascribed to tar water by Berkeley were a delusion, which was
shared by all those who believed as he did.
The Weapon Ointment affords another instance where the credulity of the
public was supported by abundant facts to prove the efficacy of the
remedy, yet it was based on the wildest superstition. This ointment
was employed for the healing of wounds, but instead of being applied
to them, the weapon with which the wound was inflicted was carefully
anointed and hung up in a corner, and the wound was washed and bandaged
without the salve being allowed to touch it. This ointment created such
a furor that eminent medical men indorsed its virtues as a healing
agent. Another example of superstition and charlatanry was the equally
famous Sympathetic Powder, which, when applied to the blood-stained
garments of wounded persons, cured their injuries even when miles
away. That dukes and knights vied with each other to obtain the secret
of its preparation and ingredients is a matter of history. Instances of
delusions on medical subjects could be multiplied a thousand fold, but
they prove nothing but ignorance and superstition on the one side, and
the inherent all-powerful curative force of nature on the other. While
I wish to avoid wounding the fastidious and sensitive in the matter of
their faith in their cherished system of cure, I cannot refrain from
classing homeopathy as a similar delusion.
I am glad to admit at the outset that I have read Hahnemann’s “Organon
of the Art of Healing” with a great deal of interest and some profit.
I am convinced that his theory of infinitesimal dilutions is as absurd
and ridiculous as either the Weapon Ointment or the Sympathetic Powder
treatment already referred to.
If we consider the harsh, or, preferably-termed, _heroic_ treatments,
then in vogue, we need not be surprised that the pendulum of medication
should have swung in the opposite extreme. Blood was drawn from the
already enfeebled body, emaciated by disease; emetics were administered
to sensitive and inflamed stomachs, and only aggravated into greater
disorder; blisters, or the burning moxa, scorched into greater agony
the suffering mortal, while large doses of drastic cathartics depleted
the waning forces of nature. There was a tendency of the medical
profession about that time to entirely ignore the _curative forces_ of
nature, and to attack disease as you would a midnight marauder, with
the most powerful and dangerous weapons at command; and there is no
doubt that with these powerful expedients, disease was destroyed, but
life also. Under these conditions Hahnemann appeared on the scene, and
I am frank to admit that he rendered suffering humanity invaluable
service by espousing a system of cure which had the merit of being
harmless. If we take into account that physiological studies were then
in their infancy, and that the word “Biologie,” from the Greek words
which signify a discourse upon life and living things, was made use of
for the first time by Lamarck, in a work published in 1801, it will
not seem altogether strange that even learned men were mystified into
beliefs which, in the light of our present knowledge of the subject,
appear preposterous. This was a most opportune time to fasten on the
healing art any doctrine or dogma, however absurd, and on this tide of
ignorance and superstition, the doctrine of infinitesimal dilutions
floated into popularity. Homeopathy affords us one of the most striking
illustrations of the uselessness of drugs in ordinary ailments, and
conclusively proves that nature possesses inherent curative powers.
Cases treated under this system make splendid recoveries, and often
much better than when the powers of nature are opposed or weakened with
nauseating drugs and poisonous doses, prescribed by incompetent persons.
Hahnemann truthfully observed that existing diseases are liable to
become aggravated, complicated or replaced by _drug diseases_.
There is no doubt of the truth of this statement where drugs are
heedlessly administered. When I was a student I was told that _calomel_
was par excellence a babies’ medicine without any qualification. I was
credulous enough to believe it and prescribed it for my own children
for its purgative effect whenever it was deemed necessary. In later
childhood, when the second dentition set in, the germs of the permanent
teeth were so injured, evidently from the calomel that had been
absorbed into the system, that the teeth were ragged and defective.
The glands of the neck were also inclined to swell and suppurate, and
there is no doubt in my mind that a great deal of what is generally
supposed to be scrofula in young children, is nothing more nor less
than a “drug disease.” I believe that Hahnemann was cognizant of the
potency of nature under ordinary circumstances to cure disease. I
believe that he absorbed this view of the philosophy of healing from
the writings of Paracelsus, which he had studied, and from which he
drew his inspiration, but he also appreciated the practical necessity
that success depended on satisfying the superstitious belief of the
times, and that consisted in offering some tangible remedy. Hahnemann
proved himself equal to the emergency by formulating his doctrine
of potentizing drugs or medicinal substances by reducing them to a
wonderful degree of minuteness.
The preparation of these dilutions was directed to be carried out in a
ceremonial sort of way. Chalk from an oyster shell, sulphur, charcoal,
or any other substance, was potentized by taking one grain of the
drug and mixing it with one hundred grains of sugar of milk. Of this
mixture one grain was taken and mixed in the same manner with another
hundred grains sugar of milk. This gave the ten-thousandth of a grain
of the drug. Take one grain of this with another hundred grains of
sugar of milk and the powder will contain the millionth of a grain of
the substance, or the first potency, which forms the bases of other
dilutions. This is reducing the doses of any drug to an absurdity,
and Hahnemann was too brilliant a mind not to know this. It might be
mentioned in connection with these dilutions, that if one grain of
the most powerful drug, strychnine, aconitin, arsenic, or any other
chemical that is known, is mixed with six hundred grains of sugar of
milk, one grain of this powder, or the one six-hundredth of a grain of
this substance, cannot be detected by any test or chemical reagent; or,
in other words, the quantity of the drug or chemical contained is so
small that the most delicate chemical test fails to show it; yet, in
homeopathy, the dilutions are carried to the decillionth of a grain,
from which important medical effects are expected.
Drugs are physical agents, and if they are diluted so as to destroy
their chemical or physical properties, it is sheer nonsense to expect
any physical result from them on the system. Chemical and physical
facts conclusively prove the utter inertness of certain drugs either
in themselves or in the manner in which they are employed, and the
indisputable evidence of biological science demonstrates the natural
curative tendency of nature observable in the lowest living thing to
the highest, so that we should stultify our reason were we to arrive at
any other conclusion than that the doctrine of this therapeutic creed
is one of the most irrational delusions that ever befogged the mental
horizon of a thinking being.
The supposed cures effected through the employment of the Weapon
Ointment, the Sympathetic Powders, the endless dilutions of the
Hahnemann system, and, indeed, most other remedial agents from any
school or source, whether offensive powders, mixtures, or patent
medicines, or the more agreeable and tasteless pellets, have but _one
role to play_, that is, to assuage the apprehensions of the mind while
nature is performing the cure; that is, to engage the mind with the
thought or idea that something tangible is being done to bring about a
certain result.
If the patient has pinned his faith to the curative value of mind
alone, the mind is for the time being engaged with idea that _mind_ is
performing the cure. This is a delusion quite similar to the previous
one, in which medicines are taken, with only this difference, that
while you pin your faith on drugs in the one case, you pin it to mind
cure in the other.