TRUE PRINCIPLES.
"Our objection to the old school," says Professor Curtis, "has ever been, that they not only have no true principles to guide their practice, but they have adopted, fixed, and obstinately adhered to principles the very reverse of the true. They have resolved that, in disease, nature turns a somerset—reverses all her normal laws, and requires them to do the same. They have decreed that the best means and processes to cure the sick are those which will most speedily kill them when in health. In the face of all reason and common sense, they have adhered to this doctrine and practice for the last three centuries, and they have been constrained to confess that the destruction they have produced on human life and health has far exceeded all that has been effected by the sword, pestilence, and famine. Still they obstinately persevere. They say their science is progressive—improving; yet its progression consists in contriving new ways and means to take part of the life's blood, and poison all the balance.
"Medicine, being based on the laws of nature, is in itself an exact science; and every process of the act should be directed by those laws.
"Medicine is a demonstrative science, and all its processes should be based on fixed laws, and be governed by positive inductions. Then, and not till then, will it deserve to be ranked among the exact sciences, and contemplated as a liberal art.
"Truth is stationary; it never progresses. What was true in principle in the days of Adam is so still. To talk of progress in principle is ridiculous. Neither does a given practice progress. That which was ever intrinsically good is so still. To talk, then, of the progress in principles of medicine is absurd. We may learn the truth or error of principles, and the comparative value or worthlessness of practices; but the principles are still the same. This is our progress in knowledge, not the progress of science or art. The constant changes that have taken place in the adoption and rejection of various principles and practices have ever been an injury to the healing art. Both truth and falsehood, separately and combined, have been alternately received and rejected; and this is that progress which is made in a circle, and not in lines direct. The fault of the cultivators of medicine has been, not that they never discovered the truth nor adopted the right practice, but that they adopted wrong principles and practices as often as the right, and rejected the right as readily as the wrong. They have ever been ready to prove many, if not all things; but to cast off the bad and hold fast to the good, they seem to have had but little discrimination and power. They say truly, that the object of the healing art is to aid nature in the prevention and cure of her diseases; yet, in practice, they do violence to nature in the use of the lancet and poison."
We are told by the professors of allopathy that their medicines constitute a class of deadly poisons, (see "Pocket Pharmacopœia;") "that, when given with a scientific hand, in small doses, they cure disease." We deny their power to cure. If antimony, corrosive sublimate, &c., ever proved destructive, they always possess that power, and can never be used with any degree of assurance that they will make a sick animal well. On the other hand, we have abundant every-day evidence of their ability to make a well animal sick at any time. What difference does it make whether poisons are given with a scientific or an unscientific hand? Does it alter the tendency which all poisons possess, namely, that of rapidly depriving the system of vitality?
The veterinary science was ushered into existence by men who practised according to the doctrines of the theoretical schools. We may trace it in its infancy when, in England, in the year 1788, it was rocked in the cradle of allopathy by Sainbel, its texture varying to suit the skill of Clark, Lawrence, Field, Blaine, and Coleman; yet with all their amount of talent and wisdom, their pupils must acknowledge that the melancholy triumph of disease over its victims clearly evinces that their combined stock of knowledge is insufficient to perfect the veterinary science. Dr. J. Bell says, "Anatomy is the basis of medical skill;" yet, in another part of his work he says, "It enables the physician to GUESS at the seat, or causes, or consequences of disease!" This is what we propose hereafter to call the science—the science of guessing! If such is the immense mortality in England, (amounting, as Mr. Youatt states, in loss of cattle, alone, to $50,000,000,)—a country that boasts of her veterinary institutions, and embraces within her medical halo some of the brightest luminaries of the present century,—what, we ask, is the mortality in the United States, where the veterinary science scarcely has an existence, and where not one man in a hundred can tell a disease of the bowels from one of the lungs? Profiting by the experience of these men, we are in hopes to build up a system of practice that will stand a tower of strength amid the rude shock of medical theories. We have discovered that the lancet is a powerful depressor of vitality, and that poisons derange, instead of producing, healthy action. That they are generally resorted to in this country, no one will deny, and often by men who are unacquainted with the nature of the destructive agents they making use of.
Hence our business, as reformers, is to expose error, and disseminate true principles. In doing so, we must be guided by the light of reason, and interpret aright the doctrines of nature as they are written by the Creator on the tablets of the whole universe, animate and inanimate.
In our reformed practice, we have true principles to guide us, which no man can controvert; for they are based on the recognition of a curative power in nature, identical with the vital principle, and governed by the same laws that control its action in the healthy state. While, therefore, this system must not change, it may improve; and while it remains on the same foundation, it should progress.
The necessity of aiding nature, in all our modes of medication, is the only true principle which should guide us. This we do by the aid of medicines known to be harmless, at the same time paying proper attention to diet, ventilation, exercise, &c., rejecting all processes of cure that depress the vital energy, or destroy the equilibrium of its action.
Our reformed principles teach us that, "Fever is the same in its essential character, under all circumstances and forms which it exhibits. The different kinds, as they are called, are but varieties of the same condition, produced by variations in the prevailing cause, or the strength of vital resistance, or some other peculiarity of the patient. Facts in abundance might be stated to justify this position. Again, fever is not to be regarded as disease, but as a sanative effort; in other words, as an increased or excited state of vital action, whose tendency is to remove from the system any agents or causes that would effect its integrity. Or, perhaps, it might be more properly said, that fever is the effect, or symptom, of accumulated vital action—an index pointing to the progress of causes, operating to ward off disease and restore health.
"Our indications of cure and modes of treatment are to be learned from those manifestations of the vital operations uniformly witnessed in the febrile state. If fever marks the action of the healing power of nature, which we must copy to be successful, why should we not consult the febrile phenomena for our rule of action? Now, what are the indications of cure which we derive from this source? In other words, what are the results which nature designs to accomplish through the instrumentality of fever? They are, an equilibrium of the circulation, a properly-proportioned action of all the organs, and an increased depuration of the system, principally by cutaneous evacuations."
Suppose the resistance of some local obstruction, as, for example, an accumulation of partly digested food in the manyplus of the ox, and, for want of a due portion of the gastric fluids to soften the mass and prevent friction, it irritates the mucous covering of the laminæ. The result is inflammation, (local fever,) then general excitement, manifested in an increased state of the circulation generally. The consequences of this general excitement of the mass of the circulation are, a more equal distribution of the blood, and the stimulation of every organ to do a part, according to its capacity, in removing disease. In such cases, the cattle doctors, generally, suppose that the inflammation is confined to the part, (manyplus;) yet it is evident that nature has marshalled her forces and produced a like action on the external surface. How can we prove that this is the case? By the heat, and red surfaces of the membrane lining the nostril, by the accelerated pulse, thirst, &c. Without heat there is no vitality in the system. Now, if the surface be hot, it proves that a large quantity of blood is sent there for the purpose of relieving the deranged internal organ. Hence the reader will perceive, that the cattle doctor whose creed is, "The more fever, the more blood-letting," must be one of the greatest opponents nature has to deal with. Then it is no wonder that so many cattle, sheep, and oxen die of fever. The practice of purging, in such a case, would be almost as destructive as the former; for many articles used as purges act on the mucous surfaces of the alimentary canal as mechanical irritants. Nature would, in this case, have to recall her forces from the surface, and concentrate them in the vicinity of parts where they were not wanted, had not man's interference conflicted with her well-planned arrangement, and made her "turn a somerset." When the increased action and heat are manifested on the surface, does it not prove that the different organs are acting harmoniously in self-defence? And is not this action manifested through the same channels in a state of health? Then why call it disease?
If obstructions exist as the cause of fever, will the mode of evacuation be different from that of health? Certainly not. Hence the marked tendency of fever to evacuation by the skin or the bowels; the former by perspiration, and the latter by diarrhœa. Fever, then, is a vital action, and the reformers have correct principles. On the other hand, the allopathists tell us that they know very little about fever, but that it is disease, and they treat it as such; hence, then, five, ten, and fourteen days' fever, and often the death of the patient.
Our treatment is not directed with a view of combating the fever: we generally aid it by following the indications which it presents; and we often find it necessary, although the surface of the animal shall be hot, and feverish symptoms appear, to use stimulants, (not alcoholic,) combined with antispasmodics and relaxants. (See Stimulants, in the Appendix.) This class of medicines, aided by warmth and moisture, favors the cutaneous exhalation, and promotes the free and full play of all the functions.
That the allopathist has but few principles to guide him is evident from the following quotations:—
Veterinary surgeon Haycock says, "The profession may flatter itself that it is advancing: for my part, however, I see little or no advancement. Our labors, for the last ten years, have been little more than a repetition of what has gone before. Our books are things of shreds and patches; the system which is followed in the investigation of disease, in the treatment of disease, and in the reporting of it, is altogether so crude and barbarous, that I am thoroughly ashamed of the whole matter.
"I have heard much noise about a charter, [which, we presume, means a charter by which men may be licensed to kill secundum artem, and 'no questions ASKED,'] the clamor of which may be compared to the rattling of peas in a dried bladder, or to a storm in a horse-pond. I have also read much which has been said about the spirit of this charter. Until I am convinced that it is the best term which can be applied to it, verily the whole is a spirit; for no one, I am persuaded, has ever yet discovered the substance.[3] It is not charters that we want, but it is that quiet spirit of earnestness which characterizes the true laborer on science. We require men who will labor for the advancement of the profession from the pure love of the thing; we want, in fact, a few John Fields, or men who know how to work, and who are possessed of the will to do it."
We hear a great deal said about sending young men from this country to Europe to acquire the principles of the veterinary art, with a view to public teaching. Now, it appears to us that the United States can boast of as great a number of talented physicians, as well qualified to soon learn and understand the fundamental principles of the veterinary art, as their brethren of the old world. There is no country, probably, that can boast of such an amount of talent, in every department of literature and art, in proportion to the population, as the United States. We know that the veterinary art, with one exception, had its existence from human practitioners, received their fostering care and attention, and grew with their growth. Have we not the materials, then, in this country, to educate and qualify young men to practise this important branch of science? Most certainly. Just send a few to us, for example, and if we do not impart to them a better system of medication than that practised in Europe, by which they will be enabled to treat disease with more success and less deaths, then we will agree to "throw physic to the dogs," and abandon our profession.
The greatest part of the most valuable time of the students of veterinary medicine is devoted to the study of pathology, in such a manner as to afford little instruction. For example, we are told that in "Bright's" disease of the kidneys they have detected albumen. What does this amount to? Does it throw any rational light on the treatment other than that proposed by us, of toning up the animal, and restoring the healthy secretions? They have studied pathology to their hearts' content; yet any intelligent farmer in this country, with a few simple herbs, can beat them at curing disease. We would give details, were it necessary. Suffice it to say, that it is done here every day, and often through the aid of a little thoroughwort tea, or other harmless agent. The pathologist may discover alterations in tissues, in the blood, and the various organs, and tell us that herein lie the cause and seat of disease; yet these changes themselves are but results, and preceding these were other manifestations of disorder; therefore pathology must always be imperfect, because it is a science of consequences.
The most powerful microscopes have been used to discover the seat of disease; yet this has not taught us to cure one single disease hitherto incurable.
The old school boast that their whole system of blood-letting, purging, and poisoning is based on enlightened experience! yet their victims have often discovered, by dear-bought "experience," (many of whom are now doing penance with ulcerated gums, rotten teeth, and fœtid breath,) that, however valuable this "experience" may be to the M. D.'s, they, the recipients, have not derived that benefit which they were led to expect would accrue to them. From what has already been written in this work, the reader, provided he divests himself of all prejudice, will perceive that allopathic experience is not to be trusted, for their principles are false; hence their experience is also false. Professor Curtis, to whom we are indebted for much valuable information, says, "Do not the old school argue that the most destructive agents in nature may be made to 'aid the vital forces in the removal of disease by the judicious application of them'? Does not Professor Harrison say, that the lancet is the great anti-inflammatory agent of the materia medica, that opium is the magnum Dei donum (the great gift of God) for the relief of pain, and that mercury is the great regulator of all the secretions?"
Anatomy and physiology are now being taught in our public schools. The people will, ere long, constitute themselves umpires to decide when doctors disagree. We apprehend it will then be hard work to convince the intelligent and thinking part of the community that poisons and the lancet are sanative agents.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Mr. White says, "According to the present system of teaching in these chartered institutions, there is very little benefit to be derived by the student."
Mr. Blane experienced in his own person the results of this imperfect system of teaching. He was sent for to fire a valuable horse, and gives the following account of it: "It was my first essay in firing on my own account, and fired as I was with my wishes to signalize myself, I labored to enter my novitiate with all due honor. The farrier of the village was ordered to attend, a sturdy old man, civil enough, but looking as though impressed with no very high respect for a gentleman farrier's knowledge. The horse was cast, awkwardly enough, and secured, as will appear, even more so. I, however, proceeded to show the superiority of the new over the old schools. I had just then left the veterinary college, not as a pupil, but as a teacher, which I only mention to mark the climax. On the very first application of the iron, up started my patient, flinging me and my assistants in all directions from him, while he trotted and snorted round the yard with rope, &c. at his heels. As may be supposed, I was taken aback, and might have gone back as I came, had not the old farrier, with much good humor, caught the horse round the neck with his arms, and by some dexterous manœuvre brought him on his knees; when, with a jerk, as quick as unexpected, he threw him at once on his side, when our immediate assistants fixed him, and we proceeded. It is needless to remark that I retired mortified, and left the village farrier lord of the ascendant."
"It cannot be doubted that the best operators in this case are always the common country farriers, who, from devoting themselves entirely to the occupation, soon become proficient."
This admission on the part of a regular graduate of a veterinary institution of London shows that the veterinary science, as taught at the present day, is a matter for reproach. The melancholy triumph of disease over its victims shows that the science is mere moonshine; that, in regard to its most important object, the cure of disease, it is mere speculation, rich in theory, but poverty-stricken in its results. Hence we have not only proof that the American people will be immense gainers by availing themselves of the labors of reforms, but, as interested individuals, they have great encouragement to favor our more rational system of treatment. (For additional remarks on this subject, see the author's work on the Horse, p. 105.)