XXVIII.—Drugs.
“Thus with our hellish drugs, Death’s ceaseless fountains
In these bright vales, o’er these green mountains
Worse than the very plague we raged.
I have myself to thousands poison given,
And hear their murderer praised as blest by heaven,
Because with Nature strife he waged.”
Göethe’s Faust.
The influence of habit and custom is such, that it is difficult to arouse inquiry, when the result is calculated to derange the existing order of things. Mr. D’Israeli observes, “Could we conceive that man had never discovered the practice of washing his hands, but cleansed them as animals do their paws, he would for certain have ridiculed and protested against the inventor of soap, and as tardily, as in other matters, have adopted the invention.”
All change, however beneficial, is attended with trouble; and we therefore adopt the motto, “Whatever is, is right.” This very motto is the key to our method of cure—as it is to that of every other great moral truth. Yet, to quote the words of Rausse, “We do not take this in the sense of the philosophy of our days, or in that of the German philosopher, Hegel, for then we must consider falsehood and assassination to be good. Rather would we take these words in the sense in which they were first proclaimed by the philosophy of Geneva, in the sense in which the first citizen used them for the foundation of his truths; thus, that which is produced by nature is good; all inclinations, all impulses of men derived from nature, are good; and every mis-usage of nature is an outrage which she punishes with misery and pain. All the principles of the art of curing at Gräfenberg, attested as they are by thousands, are dictated by that instinct which nature has given to every human being as his inheritance.”
But are not all the cures performed at Gräfenberg—all the doctrines of Hydropathy—opposed to science? It may be answered, Yes; nor can we shut our eyes to the fact, that nature refuses all respect for what we are pleased to denominate learning—nay, tramples upon what is often called science: particularly on that of medicine. By what delusions were mankind first persuaded to submit to the use of poisonous drugs! In the middle ages, water as a beverage, and as a cure for disease, fell into total disuse. In the time of the Crusades, the Arab doctors introduced the use of Oriental drugs, to which they attributed miraculous virtues; and during the period of astrology and alchemy, and when researches were being made for the philosopher’s stone, almost every nation boasted of having found some panacea—some elixir vitæ: sometimes it was an oil or an herb; at others, a powder or mineral; until, in process of time, their accumulation formed the vaunted science of medicine. But, we would inquire, are the effects of these compounds such as to lead to the conclusion that they were recommended by nature? Have mankind become healthier since their introduction? Are those nations who have done most homage to this science, the strongest and soundest?
To think of eradicating disease with poisons, of which physic is generally composed, appears paradoxical. How is it possible to bring physic to bear upon the dispersed and deeply-hidden diseased matter? Even if this could be done, it is quite impossible, as every chemist knows, for the peccant matters and physic to dissolve each other into nothing.
Dr. Forbes, editor of the “British and Foreign Medical Review,” supports this view of the case. He observes, “It is one of the most formidable difficulties with which the ordinary physician has to contend, that nearly all his remedies reach the point to which they are directed, through one channel. If the brain requires to be placed under the influence of a sedative or a stimulant, if the muscular system demands invigorating by tonics, if the functions of organic life need correction by alteratives, the physician has no means of attaining his object except by inundating the stomach and bowels with foreign and frequently pernicious substances. It being thus made the medical doorway to all parts of the system, and so compelled to admit every description of therapeutical appliances, the organ of digestion is contorted to a purpose for which it was never intended.”
“The consequence,” says Dr. Arbuthnot, “of such treatment with physic is, that to the old evil a new stimulus is added, weak or strong, according to the dose and quality: what is inflammable, stays in the blood, and afterwards affects the brain.”
We may fairly ask, How can any of these consequences result from Hydropathy? The following lines of Horace Smith are not far from the truth:—
“Physic! a freak of times and modes,
Which yearly old mistakes explodes
For new ones still absurder.
All slay,—their victims disappear,
And only leaves the doctrine clear
That killing is no murder.”
Are those who do most to aid the apothecaries, and who indulge in alcoholic drinks, healthier than others; or, are those who are in the habit of consulting doctors free from pain? No! they drag on a miserable existence. It might be asked, If certain herbs and minerals were alone intended for healing man’s infirmities, how would the inhabitants of the temperate zone procure those that are indigenous to the tropics, and vice versâ? Instinct pleads in favour of the element that abounds wherever human beings ought to live; and innumerable instances might be adduced of the advantage which the use of water gives the savage over cultivated man.
From the most remote ages, water was known and resorted to as a curative agent by the unsophisticated children of nature. In the wilds of America, the savage is put into a close hut, built of stones, which hut is heated to produce intense perspiration on the invalid, in which state he is immersed in the river, near to which the hut is generally placed; and by Pallme’s travels in Kordofan, we find that, in the very depths of Africa, fevers are cured by cold water. It appears our traveller lay several days in bed with burning fever, when, at length, his attendants lifted him out of bed, placed him with his back against the door, and poured a large volume of cold water on his head and body. After the shock he was put to bed, covered with sacks and sheepskins: this produced relief and sleep. A second application of this treatment effected a cure.
Some writers err in supposing mankind to have arrived at an age of decrepitude, from its not occurring to them that the deterioration of health arises from art, and not nature. If you wish to be convinced of this, leave civilised and go to savage life. There you will see the man of nature as young and strong as the first created; the generation cannot grow old, except by art, poison, or vice. Prescribe simple water, and it is rejected with scorn; but let any quack recommend his drugs, however poisonous, and they are swallowed regardless of results. It must have been the enemy of all good who first persuaded mankind that poison could produce health.
The evils that arise from pernicious drugs, which have swept away millions, and which will destroy the whole species if no reform takes place, originate in misunderstanding the first or acute attack, which is but an attempt of nature to heal. Men take acute attacks for disease, whilst in reality they are the means by which the system is relieved of disease. Bleeding, blistering, cupping, and drugging, subdue these efforts,—not by emancipating the system, but by so reducing it that it can no longer contend with its enemy. Men praised the unlucky discovery, and hence a host of deadly diseases took their origin, such as destructions and suppurations of the inner organs, dropsy, etc.: complaints which were hardly known in times of yore, and which, but for these causes, would never have reared their heads. However, as the lamentable consequences in some cases do not appear until years after the suppression of the acute conflict, no one thinks of attributing them to drugs. This drug-plague is the most dreadful malady mankind has to contend with; dug by themselves from the black abysses of the earth, it has been cherished as the effect of deep science for centuries; how frequently has the last shilling been offered up at its altar! Upon it as many millions have been spent as would pay off the National Debt: to the study of these dangerous errors, millions of men have applied the whole of their lives and their ability: backed by this so-called science, they contend against nature; but how does Nature punish those who wish to master her? Oh, great unspeakable Nature! how dreadfully beautiful art thou, in thy inexorable and destroying severity!
Mankind may still turn back, and regenerate health; but it is not sufficient for them to renounce physic: they must abandon wine, spirits, and poison, in every shape. For the curing of disease, we must not look into the grey mysteries of the future, but far behind us, on the green plain of Nature, and of the times which are past.