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Alcott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Forty Years in the Wilderness of Pills and Powders + Cogitations and Confessions of an Aged Physician + +Author: William A. Alcott + +Release Date: October 5, 2010 [EBook #34038] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILDERNESS OF PILLS, POWDERS *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p><a name="Front" id="Front"></a></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 464px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="464" height="700" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1>FORTY YEARS</h1> + +<h1>IN THE WILDERNESS</h1> + +<h4>OF</h4> + +<h1>PILLS AND POWDERS;</h1> + +<h4>OR, THE</h4> + +<h2>COGITATIONS AND CONFESSIONS OF</h2> + +<h3>AN AGED PHYSICIAN.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +BOSTON:<br /> +JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY.<br /> +<br /> +NEW YORK:<br /> +C. M. SAXTON AND COMPANY.<br /> +ROCHESTER, NEW YORK: E. DARROW AND BROTHER.<br /> +1859.<br /> +<br /> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by<br /> +JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY,<br /> +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the district of<br /> +Massachusetts.<br /> +<br /> +LITHOTYPED BY COWLES AND COMPANY,<br /> +17 WASHINGTON ST., BOSTON.<br /> +<br /> +Printed by Geo. C. Rand and Avery.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>The present volume was one of the last upon which its author was +engaged, the facts having been gathered from the experience and +observation of a long life. It was his design to publish them +anonymously, but under the changed circumstances this is rendered +impracticable.</p> + +<p>A short time previous to his death, the writer spoke of this work, and +said, in allusion to the termination of his own somewhat peculiar +case,—"This <i>last chapter</i> must be added." In accordance with this +desire, a brief sketch, having reference chiefly to his health and +physical habits, with the closing chapter of his life, has been +appended.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Boston</span>, June, 1859.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TO_THE_READER" id="TO_THE_READER"></a>TO THE READER.</h2> + + +<p>In the sub-title to the following work, I have used the word +"Confessions"—not to mislead the reader, but because <i>to confess</i> is +one prominent idea of its author. It is a work in which confessions of +the impotence of the healing art, as that art has been usually +understood, greatly abound; and in which the public ignorance of the +laws of health or hygiene, with the consequences of that ignorance, are +presented with great plainness. The world will make a wiser use of its +medical men than it has hitherto done, when it comes to see more clearly +what is their legitimate and what their ultimate mission.</p> + +<p>These remarks indicate the main intention of the writer. It is not so +much to enlighten or aid, or in any way directly affect the medical man, +as to open the eyes of the public to their truest interests; to a just +knowledge of themselves; and to some faint conception of their bondage +to credulity and quackery. The reader will find that I go for science +and truth, let them affect whom they may. Let him, then, suspend his +judgment till he has gone through this volume once, and I shall have no +fears. He may, indeed, find fault with my style, and complain of my +literary or philosophic unfitness for the task I assigned myself; but he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>will, nevertheless, be glad to know my facts.</p> + +<p>Should any one feel aggrieved by the exposures I have made in the +details which follow, let me assure him that no one is more +exposed—nor, indeed, has more cause to be aggrieved—than myself. Let +us all, then, as far as is practicable, keep our own secrets. Let us not +shrink from such exposures as are likely, in a large measure, to benefit +mankind, while the greatest possible inconvenience or loss to ourselves +is but trifling.</p> + +<p>Some may wish that instead of confining myself too rigidly to naked fact +and sober reasoning, I had given a little more scope to the imagination. +But is not plain, "unvarnished" truth sometimes not only "stranger," +but, in a work like this, better also, than any attempts at "fiction"?</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">The Author.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Auburndale</span>, March, 1859.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<p> +CHAPTER. <span class="tocnum">PAGE.</span><br /> +<br /> +I. <span class="smcap">Educational Tendencies</span> <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></span><br /> +<br /> +II. <span class="smcap">My First Medical Lesson</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_6'>6</a></span><br /> +<br /> +III. <span class="smcap">The Electrical Machine</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></span><br /> +<br /> +IV. <span class="smcap">The Measles, and pouring down Rum</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></span><br /> +<br /> +V. <span class="smcap">Lee's Pills and Dropsy</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></span><br /> +<br /> +VI. <span class="smcap">The Cold Shower Bath</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_16'>16</a></span><br /> +<br /> +VII. <span class="smcap">My First Sickness Abroad</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></span><br /> +<br /> +VIII. <span class="smcap">Lesson from an Old Surgeon</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_20'>20</a></span><br /> +<br /> +IX. <span class="smcap">Lee's Windham Bilious Pills</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_23'>23</a></span><br /> +<br /> +X. <span class="smcap">Dr. Solomon and his Patient</span>. <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XI. <span class="smcap">Physicking off Fever</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_28'>28</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XII. <span class="smcap">Manufacturing Chilblains</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XIII. <span class="smcap">How to make Erysipelas</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_34'>34</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XIV. <span class="smcap">Studying Medicine</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_38'>38</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XV. <span class="smcap">Nature's own Eye Water</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_41'>41</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XVI. <span class="smcap">The Viper Story</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XVII. <span class="smcap">Struck with Death</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XVIII. <span class="smcap">Efficacy of Cold Spring Water</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XIX. <span class="smcap">Cheating the Physician</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_56'>56</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XX. <span class="smcap">Medicinal Effects of Story Telling</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXI. <span class="smcap">Ossified Veins</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXII. <span class="smcap">He will Die in Thirty-Six Hours</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXIII. <span class="smcap">About to Die of Consumption</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_72'>72</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXIV. <span class="smcap">My Journeymanship in Medicine</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXV. <span class="smcap">My Temperance Pledge</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>XXVI. <span class="smcap">Trials of a Young Physician</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_87'>87</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXVII. <span class="smcap">A Dosing and Drugging Family</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_90'>90</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXVIII. <span class="smcap">Poisoning with Lead</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXIX. <span class="smcap">Standing Patients</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXX. <span class="smcap">Killing a Patient</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXI. <span class="smcap">A Sudden Cure</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXII. <span class="smcap">Gigantic Doses of Medicine</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_112'>112</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXIII. <span class="smcap">The Lambskin Disease</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXIV. <span class="smcap">Milk Punch Fever</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_120'>120</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXV. <span class="smcap">My First Case in Surgery</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_124'>124</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXVI. <span class="smcap">Emilia and the Love-Cure</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXVII. <span class="smcap">Hezekiah Judkins and Delirium</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_133'>133</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXVIII. <span class="smcap">My First Amputation</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_136'>136</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XXXIX. <span class="smcap">Milk as a Remedy in Fevers</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XL. <span class="smcap">Virtues of Pumpkin Seed Tea</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_141'>141</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLI. <span class="smcap">Broken Limbs and Intemperance</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLII. <span class="smcap">Dying from Filthiness</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLIII. <span class="smcap">Taking the Fever</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_153'>153</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLIV. <span class="smcap">Blessings of Cider and Cider Brandy</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_156'>156</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLV. <span class="smcap">The Indian Doctor</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_160'>160</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLVI. <span class="smcap">Dying of Old Age at Fifty-Eight</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLVII. <span class="smcap">Daughters Destroying their Mother</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_169'>169</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLVIII. <span class="smcap">Poisoning with Stramonium</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XLIX. <span class="smcap">Curing Cancer</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></span><br /> +<br /> +L. <span class="smcap">Swelled Limbs</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_179'>179</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LI. <span class="smcap">Sudden Changes in Old Age</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_182'>182</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LII. <span class="smcap">An Opium Eater</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_185'>185</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LIII. <span class="smcap">Coffee and the Lame Knee</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_188'>188</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LIV. <span class="smcap">The Opium Pill Box</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_193'>193</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LV. <span class="smcap">Bleeding at the Lungs</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_196'>196</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LVI. <span class="smcap">Butter Eaters</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_201'>201</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LVII. <span class="smcap">Hot Houses and Consumption</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_206'>206</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LVIII. <span class="smcap">Poisoning by a Painted Pail</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_216'>216</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LIX. <span class="smcap">One Drop of Laudanum</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_218'>218</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span>LX. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Kidder's Cordial</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_220'>220</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXI. <span class="smcap">Almost Raising the Dead</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_225'>225</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXII. <span class="smcap">Female Health and Insane Hospitals</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_231'>231</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXIII. <span class="smcap">A Giant Dyspeptic</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_236'>236</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXIV. <span class="smcap">Getting into a Circle</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_246'>246</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXV. <span class="smcap">Poisoning with Maple Sugar</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_249'>249</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXVI. <span class="smcap">Physicking off Measles</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_251'>251</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXVII. <span class="smcap">Tic Douloureux</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_253'>253</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXVIII. <span class="smcap">Cold Water in Fever</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_256'>256</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXIX. <span class="smcap">Cold-taking and Consumption</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_258'>258</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXX. <span class="smcap">Freezing out Disease</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_261'>261</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXI. <span class="smcap">The Air Cure</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_263'>263</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXII. <span class="smcap">The Clergyman</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXIII. <span class="smcap">He Must be Physicked or Die</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_268'>268</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXIV. <span class="smcap">Who hath Woe? or, the Sick Widow</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_272'>272</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXV. <span class="smcap">The Penalty of Self-Indulgence</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_275'>275</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXVI. <span class="smcap">Dr. Bolus and Morphine</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_282'>282</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXVII. <span class="smcap">Bleeding and Blistering Omitted</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_286'>286</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXVIII. <span class="smcap">Medical Virtues of Sleep</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_288'>288</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXIX. <span class="smcap">Cure by Deep Breathing</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_291'>291</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXX. <span class="smcap">Spirit Doctoring</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXI. <span class="smcap">Remarkable Cure of Epilepsy</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_301'>301</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXII. <span class="smcap">Scarlatina Cured by letting alone</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_312'>312</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXIII. <span class="smcap">Ignorance not always Bliss</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_314'>314</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXIV. <span class="smcap">Measles without Snakeroot and Saffron</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_317'>317</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXV. <span class="smcap">The Consumptive Pair</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_320'>320</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXVI. <span class="smcap">How to Cure Cholera</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_322'>322</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXVII. <span class="smcap">Obstinacy and Suicide</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_324'>324</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXVIII. <span class="smcap">Health Hospitals</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_327'>327</a></span><br /> +<br /> +LXXXIX. <span class="smcap">Destruction by Scrofula</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_329'>329</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XC. <span class="smcap">Starving out Disease</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_334'>334</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCI. <span class="smcap">Dieting on Mince Pie</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_342'>342</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCII. <span class="smcap">Giants in the Earth</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_346'>346</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span>XCIII. <span class="smcap">The Green Mountain Patient</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_349'>349</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCIV. <span class="smcap">Cure of Poison from Lead</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_355'>355</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCV. <span class="smcap">Faith and Works</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_358'>358</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCVI. <span class="smcap">Works without Faith</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_360'>360</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCVII. <span class="smcap">Diseases of Licentiousness</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_365'>365</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCVIII. <span class="smcap">Curious and Instructive Facts</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_367'>367</a></span><br /> +<br /> +XCIX. <span class="smcap">Anti-Medical Testimony</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_371'>371</a></span><br /> +<br /> +C. <span class="smcap">An Anti-Medical Premium</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_375'>375</a></span><br /> +<br /> +CI. <span class="smcap">Concluding Remarks</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_378'>378</a></span><br /> +<br /> +CII. <span class="smcap">A Last Chapter</span>, <span class="tocnum"><a href='#Page_380'>380</a></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>FORTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS<br /> + +OF<br /> + +PILLS AND POWDERS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>EDUCATIONAL TENDENCIES.</h3> + + +<p>I was born in a retired but pleasant part of New England, as New England +was half a century ago, and as, in many places, despite of its canals, +steamboats, railroads, and electromagnetic telegraphs, it still is. +Hence I am entitled to the honor of being, in the most emphatic sense, a +native of the land of "steady habits."</p> + +<p>The people with whom I passed my early years, though comparatively rude +and uncultivated, were yet, in their manners and character, quite +simple. Most of them could spell and read, and write their names, and a +few could "cipher" as far as simple subtraction. To obtain the +last-mentioned accomplishment, however, was not easy, for arithmetic was +not generally permitted in the public schools during the six hours of +the day; and could only be obtained in the occasional evening school, or +by self-exertion at home.</p> + +<p>The majority of my townsmen also knew something of the dream-book and of +palmistry, and of the influence of the moon (especially when first seen, +after the change, over the right shoulder), not only on the weather and +on vegetation, but on the world of humanity. They also understood full +well, what troubles were betokened by the howling of a dog, the +blossoming of a flower out of due season, or the beginning of a journey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +or of a job of work on Tuesday or Friday. Many of them knew how to tell +fortunes in connection with a cup of tea. Nay, more, not a few of them +were skilled in astrology, and by its aid could tell under what planet a +person was born, and perchance, could predict thereby the future events +of his life; at least after those events had actually taken place.</p> + +<p>Under what particular planet I was born, my friends never told me; +though it is quite possible some of my sage grandmothers or aunts could +have furnished the needful information had I sought it. They used to +look often at the lines in the palms of my hands, and talk much about my +dreams, which were certainly a little aspiring, and in many respects +remarkable. The frequent prediction of one of these aged and wise +friends I remember very well. It was, that I would eat my bread in two +kingdoms. This prediction was grounded on the fact, that the hair on the +top of my head was so arranged by the plastic hand of Nature as to form +what were called two crowns; and was so far fulfilled, that I have +occasionally eaten bread within the realms of Queen Victoria!</p> + +<p>According to the family register, kept in the cranium of my mother, I +was born on Monday, which doubtless served to justify the frequent +repetition of the old adage, and its application to my own case—"Born +on Monday, fair of face." I was also born on the sixth day of the month, +on account of which it was said that the sixth verse of the thirty-first +chapter of Proverbs was, prospectively, a key to my character. It is +certainly true that I have dealt out not a little "strong drink to him +that" was "ready to perish;" and that few of my professional brethren +have furnished a larger proportion of it gratuitously; or as Solomom +says, have <i>given</i> it.</p> + +<p>Whether there was any clear or distinct prophecy ever uttered that I +would one day be a knight of the lancet, clad in full armor, is not +certain. If there was, I presume it was unwritten. That I was to be +distinguished in some way, everybody appeared to understand and +acknowledge. I was not only at the head of all my classes at school, in +spelling, reading, and writing, but exalted above most of my competitors +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> compeers by a whole head and shoulders. In ciphering, in +particular, I excelled. I understood the grand rules of arithmetic, and +could even work a little in the Rule of Three.</p> + +<p>That the thought of being a "doctor" did, in a sort of indefinable way, +sometimes enter my head, even at that early period, I will not deny. One +of my teachers, as I well remember, had medical books, into which bars +and bolts could hardly prevent me from peeping. But there were a +thousand lions in the way—or at least <i>two or three</i>. One was extreme +indigence on the part of my parents. They came together nearly as poor +as John Bunyan and his wife, or Sydney Smith and his companion. Or if, +in addition to a knife, fork, and spoon, they had a looking-glass, an +old iron kettle, an axe, and a hoe, I am sure the inventory of their +property at first could not have extended much farther; and now that +they had a family of four children, their wants had increased about as +fast as their income.</p> + +<p>Besides, there was a confused belief in the public mind—and of course +in mine—that medical men were a species of conjurors; or if nothing +more, that they had a sort of mysterious knowledge of human character, +obtained by dealing with the stars, or by reliance on some supernatural +source or other. And to such a height as this I could not at that time +presume to aspire; though I certainly did aspire, even at a very early +period, to become a learned man.</p> + +<p>As a means to such an end, I early felt an ardent desire to become a +printer. This desire originated, in part at least, from reading the +autobiography of Dr. Franklin, of which I was exceedingly fond. It was a +desire, moreover, which I was very slow to relinquish till compelled. My +father, as we have seen, was a poor laborer, and thought himself unable +either to give me any extra opportunities of education, or to spare me +from the cultivation of a few paternal acres. Still, in secret, I I +clung to the hope of one day traversing the lengths and breadths and +depths and heights of the world of science.</p> + +<p>But for what purpose, as a final end? for, practically, the great +question was, <i>cui bono</i>? As for becoming a lawyer, that, with me, was +quite out of the question; for lawyers, even thus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> early, were generally +regarded as bad men. All over the region of my nativity the word lawyer +was nearly synonymous with liar; and to liars and lawyers the Devil was +supposed to have a peculiar liking, not to say affinity. I had never at +that time heard of but one honest lawyer; and him I regarded as a sort +of <i>lusus naturæ</i> much more than as an ordinary human being. My friends +would have been shocked at the bare thought of my becoming a lawyer, had +the road to that profession been open to my youthful aspirations.</p> + +<p>The clerical profession was in some respects looked upon more favorably +than the legal or the medical. I was scarcely "three feet high" when an +aged and venerable grandmother said one day, <i>in my hearing</i>, and +probably <i>for</i> my hearing, "I always did hope one of my grandsons would +be a minister." This, however, neither interested me much nor encouraged +me; for (reader will you believe it?), as the doctor was regarded in +those days as more than half a sorcerer, and the lawyer three-fourths +devil, so the minister was deemed by many as almost half an idiot, +except for his learning.</p> + +<p>I am not, by any means, trifling with you. It was the serious belief of +many—I think I might say of most—that those boys who "took to +learning" were by nature rather "weak in the attic," especially those +who inclined to the ministry. It was a common joke concerning an idiot +or half idiot, "send him to college."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p>In short, so strongly was this unfounded impression concerning the +native imbecility of ministers, and in general of literary men, fastened +on my mind as well as on the minds of most people, that I grew up nearly +to manhood with a sort of confused belief that as a general rule they +were below par in point of good, common sense. One prominent reason, as +I supposed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> why they were sent to college and wrought into that +particular shape, was to bring them up to an equality with their +fellows. Hence, I not only repelled with a degree of indignation the +thought of becoming a minister, but felt really demeaned by my natural +fondness for books and school; and like the poet Cowper, hardly dared, +all my early lifetime, to look higher than the shoe buckles of my +associates. Still, I could not wholly suppress the strong desire to +<i>know</i> which had penetrated and pervaded my soul, and which had been +nurtured and fed not only by an intelligent mother but by a few books I +had read. Perhaps the life of Franklin, already referred to, had as much +influence with me as any thing of the kind. For along with the love of +knowledge which was so much developed by this book, the love of doing +good was introduced. The doctor says, somewhere, that he always set a +high value on a doer of good; and it is possible, nay, I might even say +probable, that this desire, which subsequently became a passion with me, +had its origin in this very remark.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> To illustrate this point, and show clearly the state of the +public opinion, I will relate an anecdote. A certain calf in the +neighborhood, after long and patient trial, was pronounced too ignorant +to be able to procure his own nourishment, or in other words, was said +to be a fool. On raising the question, what should be done with him, a +shrewd colored man who stood by, said, "Master, send him to college!"</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>MY FIRST MEDICAL LESSON.</h3> + + +<p>Straws, it is said, show which way the wind blows; and words, and things +very small in themselves, sometimes show, much better than "two crowns," +or the "stars," what is to be the future of a person's life. The choice +of a profession or occupation, were we but trained to the habit of +tracing effects up to their causes, will doubtless often be found to +have had its origin, if not in <i>straws</i>, at least in very small matters.</p> + +<p>When I was ten years of age, my little brother, of only two years, sat +one day on the floor whittling an apple. The instrument in his hand was +a Barlow knife, as it was then called. The blade was about two inches in +length, but was worn very narrow. How his parents and other friends, +several of whom were in the same room, came to let him use such a +plaything, I cannot now conceive; but as the point was almost square, +and the knife very dull, they do not seem hitherto to have had any +fears.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the usual quiet of the family was disturbed a little by the +announcement, "Somebody is going by;" an event which, as you should +know, was quite an era in that retired, mountainous region. All hastened +to the window to get a view of the passing traveller. The little boy +scampered among the rest; but in crossing the threshold of a door which +intervened, he stumbled and fell. A sudden shriek called to him one of +our friends, who immediately cried out, "Oh dear, he has put out his +eye!" and made a hasty but unsuccessful effort to extract the knife, +which had penetrated the full length of its blade. The mother hastened +to the spot, and drew it forth, though, as she afterward said, not +without the exertion of considerable force. Its back was towards the +child, and by pressing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> the ball of the eye downward, the instrument had +been able to penetrate to the bottom of the cavity, and perhaps a little +way into the bone beyond. The elasticity of the eyeball had retained it +so as to render its extraction seemingly difficult.</p> + +<p>Most of those who were present, particularly myself and the rest of the +children, were for a short time in a state of mental agony that bordered +on insanity. Not knowing at first the nature of the wound, but only that +there was an eye there, and brains very near it, we naturally expected +nothing less than the loss of this precious organ of vision, if not of +life. There was no practising physician or surgeon, just at that time, +within five or six miles, and I do not remember that any was sent for. +We probably concluded that he could do no good.</p> + +<p>The child's eye swelled, and for a few days looked very badly; but after +the lapse of about two weeks the little fellow seemed to be quite well; +and so far as his eyes and brain are concerned, I believe he has been +well to this time, a period of almost half a century.</p> + +<p>Although we resided at a considerable distance from the village, and +from any practising physician, there was near by a very aged and +superannuated man, who had once been a medical practitioner. Our +curiosity had been so much excited by the wonderful escape of the little +boy from impending destruction, that we called on the venerable doctor +and asked him whether it was possible for a knife to penetrate so far +into the head without injuring the brain and producing some degree of +inflammation. From Dr. C. we received a good deal of valuable +information concerning the structure of the eye, the shape of the cavity +in which it is placed, the structure and character of the brain, etc.</p> + +<p>This was a great treat to me, I assure you. It added not a little to the +interest which was imparted by his instructions when he showed us, from +the relics of better days, some of the bones of the skull, especially +those of the frontal region, in which the eye is situated. Of course the +sight of a death's head, as we were inclined to call it, was at first +frightful to us; but it was a feeling which in part soon passed away. It +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> a feeling, most certainly, which in me was not abiding at all. +Indeed, as the title to the chapter would seem to imply, I received in +this dispensation of Providence and its accompaniments my first medical +lesson; though without the remotest thought, at the time, of any such +thing. I was only indulging in a curiosity which was instinctive and +intense, without dreaming of future consequences.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE ELECTRICAL MACHINE.</h3> + + +<p>Two years after this, an aged man, a distant relation, came to reside in +my father's family for a short time, and brought with him a small +electrical machine. He was a person of some intelligence, had travelled +much, and had been an officer in the army of the American Revolution. On +the whole, he was just such a man as would be likely to become a +favorite with children. He was, moreover, fully imbued with the +expectation of being able to cure diseases by means of electricity; +which in our neighborhood, at the least, was quite a novel, not to say a +heterodox idea.</p> + +<p>Curiosity alone had no small share of influence in bringing my mind to +the study of electricity; but a general desire to understand the subject +was greatly strengthened by the hope of being able to apply this +wonderful agent in the cure of disease. One of the most interesting +phases of Christianity is that the love and practice of healing the +bodily maladies of mankind are almost always seen in the foreground of +the New Testament representations of our Saviour's doings; and it is no +wonder that a youth who reverences his Bible, and has a little +benevolence, should entertain feelings like those above mentioned.</p> + +<p>The owner of the machine had brought with him a book on the subject of +curing by electricity. It was a volume of several hundred pages, and was +written by T. Gale, of Northern New York. It had in it much that was +mere theory, in a highly bombastic style; but it also professed to give +with accuracy the details of many remarkable cures, in various forms and +stages, of several difficult diseases; and some of these details I knew +to be realities. One or two cases at or near Ballston<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> Springs were +those of persons of whom I had some knowledge; and one of them was a +relative. This last circumstance, no doubt, had great influence on my +mind.</p> + +<p>As I had in those days some leisure for reading, and possessed very few +books, I read—and not only read but studied—Dr. Gale's work from +beginning to end. It is scarcely too much to say, that I read it till I +knew it almost "by heart;" and my heart assented to it. I believed a new +dispensation was at hand to bless the world of mankind; and what +benevolence I had, began to be directed in this particular channel. I do +not mean to say, that at twelve years of age I began to be a physician, +for I do not now recollect that either our aged friend or myself ever +had a patient during the whole year he remained with us.</p> + +<p>Eight or ten subsequent years at the plough and hoe, and the absence of +book, electrical machine, and owner, did much towards obliterating the +impressions on this subject I had received. Still, I have no doubt that +the affair as a whole had a tendency to lead my thoughts towards the +study and practice of medicine, and even to inspire confidence in +electricity as a curative agent. In other and fewer words, it was, as I +believe, a part of my medical education.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MEASLES AND POURING DOWN RUM.</h3> + + +<p>When I was about fourteen years of age, an event occurred which left a +stronger impression on my mind than any of the foregoing; and hence in +all probability did more to give my mind a medical bias and tendency.</p> + +<p>It was in the month of August. My father, assisted by two or three of +his neighbors, was mowing a swamp meadow. It was an unusually wet +season, and the water in many places was several inches deep,—in some +few instances so deep that we were obliged to go continually with wet +feet. To meet, and as it was by most people supposed to remove the +danger of contracting disease, a bottle of rum was occasionally resorted +to by the mowers, and offered to me; but at first I steadfastly refused +it.</p> + +<p>At length, however, I began to droop. A feverish feeling and great +languor came over me, and I was hardly able to walk. I was not then +aware, nor were my friends, that I had been exposed to the contagion of +measles, and therefore was not expecting it. I spoke of my ill health, +but was consoled with the answer that I should soon get over it. But no; +I grew worse, very fast. "Turn down the rum," said one of the mowers, +"if you mean to work." But I hesitated. I was not fond of rum at any +time, and just now I felt a stronger disinclination to it than ever +before. "Turn down the rum," was repeated by the mowers, from time to +time, with increased emphasis.</p> + +<p>At length wearied with their importunity; and, not over-willing to be +the butt of their mirth and ridicule, I went to the spring, where the +bottle of rum was kept, and, unperceived by any one, emptied a large +portion of its contents on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> the ground. The mental agitation of +temporary excitement dispelled in part my sufferings, and I proceeded +once more to my work.</p> + +<p>In a very short time my noisy alcoholic prescribers went to the spring +to pour rum down their <i>own</i> throats. "What," said they, with much +surprise, "has become of the rum?" "Have you drank it?" said they, +turning to me. "Not a drop of it," I said. "But it is almost all gone," +they said; "and it is a great mystery what has become of it." "The +mystery is easily cleared up," I said; "you told me to turn it down, and +I have done so."—"Told you to turn it down!" said one of them, the most +noisy one; "I told you to drink it."—"No," said I, "you told me to turn +it down; and I have poured it down—my part of it—at the foot of the +stump. If you have forgotten your direction to turn it down, I appeal to +two competent witnesses."</p> + +<p>The joke passed off much better than I expected. For myself, however, I +grew worse rapidly, and was soon sent home. My mother put me into bed, +applied a bottle of hot water to my feet, and gave me hot drinks most +liberally, and among the rest some "hot toddy." Her object was to sweat +away a supposed attack of fever. Had she known it was measles that +assailed me, or had she even suspected it, she would almost as soon have +cut off her right hand as apply the sweating process. She would, on the +contrary, have given me cooling drinks and pure air. She was not wholly +divested of good sense on this point, neither was the prevailing public +opinion.</p> + +<p>I suffered much, very much, and was for a part of the time delirious. At +length an eruption began to be visible, and to assume the appearance +which is usual in measles, both to my own relief and that of my parents +and other friends. But the mistaken treatment, or the disease, or both, +gave a shock to my already somewhat delicate constitution, from which I +doubt whether I ever fully recovered. The sequel, however, will appear +more fully in the next chapter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>LEE'S PILLS, AND THE DROPSY.</h3> + + +<p>In consequence either of the disease or its mismanagement, I was left, +on recovering from the measles, with a general dropsy. I might also say +here, that at the recurrence of the same season, for many years +afterwards, I was attacked with a complaint so nearly resembling measles +that some who were strangers to me could hardly be diverted from the +belief that it was the veritable disease itself.</p> + +<p>But to the dropsy. This disease, so unusual in young people, especially +those of my sanguine and nervous temperament, alarmed both my parents +and myself, and medical advice was forthwith invoked. Our family +physician was an old man, bred in the full belief of the necessity in +such cases of what are called "alteratives," which, in plain English, +means substances so active as to produce, when applied to the body +either externally or internally, certain sudden changes. Alteratives, in +short, are either irritants or poisons.</p> + +<p>Our aged doctor was called in to see me; and after the usual +compliments, and perhaps a passing joke or two,—for both of which he +was quite famous,—he asked me to let him see my tongue. Next, he felt +my pulse. All the while—a matter exceedingly important to success—he +looked "wondrous wise." He also asked me sundry wondrous wise questions. +They were at least couched in wondrous words of monstrous length.</p> + +<p>The examination fairly over, there followed a pause; not, indeed, an +"awful pause," but one of a few seconds, or perhaps in all of half a +minute. "Now," said he, "you must take one of Lee's pills every day, in +roasted apple." There were other directions, but this was the principal, +except to avoid taking cold. The pills, of course, contained a +proportion of mercury<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> or calomel, on the alterative effects of which, +as I plainly perceived, he placed his chief dependence.</p> + +<p>I took the pills, daily, for about six weeks; but they produced very +little apparent effect, except to spoil my appetite. What their remoter +effects were on my constitution generally, is quite another question. +Suffice it to say, for the present, that for his occasional calls and +wondrous wise looks, and his Lee's pills, he made quite a considerable +bill. We were, it is true, always glad to see him, for he was pretty +sure to crack a joke or two during his stay, and he sometimes told a +good story. Nor, after all, were his charges remarkably high. For coming +two or three miles to see me, he only made a charge of fifty cents a +visit.</p> + +<p>It was near the beginning of October, and I was "getting no better very +fast." A young physician had in the mean time come into the place, and +my friends were anxious to call him in as "counsel." He proposed +digitalis, and the family physician consented to it. But it was all to +no purpose; I was still a bloated mass, and extremely enfeebled.</p> + +<p>At length, after some two or three months of ill health and loss of +time, and the expenditure of considerable money on physicians and +medicine, our good family doctor proposed a tea made from certain sweet +roots, such as fennel, parsley, etc. Of this I was to drink very freely. +I followed his advice, and in a few days the dropsy disappeared. Whether +it was ready to depart just at this precise time, or whether the tea +hastened its departure, I never knew. In any event, one thing is +certain; that, either with its aid or in spite of it, I got rid of the +dropsy; and it nevermore returned.</p> + +<p>But it is one thing to get rid of an inveterate disease, and quite +another to be restored to our wonted measure of health and strength. The +disease or the medicine or both had greatly debilitated me. I tried to +attend school, but was unable till January or February; nor even then +was I at all vigorous. I was able in the spring to work moderately; but +it was almost a whole year before I occupied the same ground, +physically, as before. Indeed, I have very many doubts whether I ever +attained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> to the measure of strength to which I might have attained had +it not been for the expenditure of vital power in a long contest with +Lee's pills and disease.</p> + +<p>One lesson I learned, during my long sickness, in moral philosophy. I +allude to the power of associated habits. Thus I was accustomed to take +my pills daily for a long time, in combination with the pulp of a +certain favorite apple. By degrees this apple, before so congenial to my +taste, became so exceedingly disgusting to me that I could hardly come +in sight of it, or even of the tree on which it grew, without nausea; +and this dislike continued for years. By the aid of a strong will, +however, I at length overcame it, and the apple is now as agreeable to +my taste, for any thing I know, as it ever was.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE COLD SHOWER-BATH.</h3> + + +<p>My long experience of ill health, and of dosing and drugging, had led me +to reflect not a little on the causes of disease, as well as on the +nature of medicinal agents; and I had really made considerable progress, +unawares, in what I now regard as the most important part of a medical +education. In short, I had gained something, even by the loss of so +precious commodity as health. So just is the oft-repeated saying, "It is +an ill wind that blows nobody any good."</p> + +<p>It was about this time that I began to reflect on bathing. What gave me +the first particular impulses in this direction I do not now recollect, +unless it was the perusal of the writings of Dr. Benjamin Rush and Dr. +John G. Coffin. My attention had been particularly turned to cold shower +bathing. I had become more than half convinced of its happy adaptation +to my own constitution and to my diseased tendencies, both hereditary +and acquired.</p> + +<p>But what could I do? There were in those times no fleeting shower-baths +to be had; nor indeed, so far as I knew, any other apparatus for the +purpose; and had there been, I was not worth a dollar in the world to +buy it with; and I was hardly willing to ask for money, for such +purposes of my father.</p> + +<p>I will tell you, very briefly, what I did. My father had several clean +and at that time unoccupied stables, one of which was as retired as the +most fastidious person could have wished. In one of these stables, +directly overhead, I contrived to suspend by its two handles a corn +basket, in such a way that I could turn it over upon its side and retain +it in this position as long as I pleased. Into this basket, when +suspended sideways, and slightly fastened, I was accustomed to set a +basin or pail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> of water; and when I was ready for its reception, I had +but to pull a string and overturn the basket in order to obtain all the +benefits of a cold and plentiful shower.</p> + +<p>Here, daily, for almost a whole summer, I used my cold shower-bath, and, +as I then thought and still believe, with great advantage. My +consumptive tendencies were held at bay during the time very +effectually. I was fortunate, indeed, in being able always, with the aid +of a coarse towel and a little friction, to secure a pretty full +reaction.</p> + +<p>This season of cold bathing was when I was about sixteen years of age. I +shall ever look back to it as one of the most important, not to say most +interesting, of my <i>experiences</i>. Indeed, I do not know that in any six +months of my life I ever gained so much physical capital—thus to call +it; by which I mean bodily vigor—as during these six months of the year +1814.</p> + +<p>I may also add here, that it has been my lot all my life long to learn +quite as much from experiment and observation as in any other way. The +foregoing experience gave me much knowledge of the laws of hygiene. +Sometimes, while reflecting on this subject, I have thought of the +assurance of the Apostle John, that he who "doeth truth cometh to the +light," and have wondered whether the good apostle, along with this +highly important truth, did not mean to intimate that the natural +tendency of holy living was to an increase of light and love and +holiness. And then I have gone a step further, and asked myself whether +it was not possible that the doing of <i>physical</i> truth as well as +<i>moral</i>, had the same tendency.</p> + +<p>I have alluded to experience, or experiment. It is sometimes said that +medical men are very much inclined to make experiments on their +patients. Now, although I have a few sad confessions of this sort to +make hereafter, yet I can truly say, in advance, that while I have made +comparatively few experiments on other people, I have probably, during +the progress of a long life, made more experiments on myself, both in +sickness and in health, than any other existing individual. Whether I +have learned as much in this way as I ought, in such favored +circumstances, is quite another question.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>MY FIRST SICKNESS ABROAD.</h3> + + +<p>When I was about half-way through my nineteenth year, a desire to see +the world became so strong that I made up my mind to a little +travelling. Accordingly, having provided myself with an employment which +would, without a great deal of hindrance, enable me to earn my passing +expenses, I set out on my journey.</p> + +<p>It was in the month of March, and near its close. The weather was mild, +and the snow was fast disappearing—but not as yet the mud. In walking +all day, my boots became soaked and my feet wet. The era of India +rubbers had not then arrived. In truth, I went with my feet wet in the +afternoon two or three days.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the third day I came to the house of the friends with +whom I was desirous of stopping not only for the Sabbath's sake, which +was now at hand, but to rest and recruit. The next morning I was quite +sick, and my friends were alarmed. It was proposed to send for a +physician; but against this I uttered my protest, and the plan was +accordingly abandoned.</p> + +<p>The next purpose of my kind friends was to bring on a perspiration. They +were accustomed in these cases to aim at sweating. This is indeed a +violence to nature; but they knew no better. The mistress of the house +was one of those self-assured women who cannot brook any interference or +submit willingly to any modification of their favorite plans. Otherwise +I should even then have preferred a gentle perspiration, longer +continued. Yet on the whole, for the sake of peace, I submitted to my +fate, and went through the fiery furnace which was prepared for me. More +than even this I might say. I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> cooler, much cooler, when I got +through the fire than when I was in the midst of it!</p> + +<p>In three days I was, in a good measure, restored. I was, it is true, +left very weak, but was free from fever. My strength rapidly returned; +and on the fifth day I was able to set out for home, where in due time I +safely arrived.</p> + +<p>During this excursion I learned one good lesson, if no more. This was, +the danger of going day after day with wet feet. A vigorous person may +go with wet or damp feet a little while, in the early part of the day, +when in full strength, with comparative safety; but towards evening, +when the vital forces are at ebb tide, or at least are ebbing, it is +unsafe. The feeble especially should guard themselves in this direction; +nor should those who may perchance at some future time be feeble, +despise the suggestion.</p> + +<p>One important resolution was also made. This was never to use violent +efforts to induce perspiration. Such a course of treatment I saw +clearly, as I thought, must be contrary to the intentions of nature; and +time and further observation and experiment have confirmed me in this +opinion. There may of course be exceptions to the truth of such a +general inference; but I am sure they cannot be very numerous. What +though the forcing plan seems to have succeeded quite happily in my own +case? So it has in thousands of others. So might a treatment still more +irrational. Mankind are tough, and will frequently live on for a +considerable time in spite of treatment which is manifestly wrong, and +even without any treatment at all.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>LESSON FROM AN OLD SURGEON.</h3> + + +<p>Five or six miles from the place of my nativity a family resided whom I +shall call by the name of Port. Among the ancestry of this family, time +out of mind, there had been more, or fewer of what are usually called +natural bone setters. They were known far and near; and no effort short +of miraculous would have been sufficient to shake the confidence which +ignorance and credulity had reposed in them.</p> + +<p>One or two of these natural bone setters were now in the middle stage of +life, and in the full zenith of their glory. The name of the most +prominent was Joseph. He was a man of some acquired as well as inherited +knowledge; but he was indolent, coarse, vulgar, and at times profane. +Had it not been for his family rank and his own skill as a surgeon, of +which he really had a tolerable share, he would have been no more than +at best a common man, and occasionally would have passed for little more +than a common blackguard.</p> + +<p>I was in a shop one day conversing with Capt. R., when Dr. Port came in. +"Capt. R., how are you?" was the first compliment. "Very well," said the +captain, "except a lame foot." "I see you have one foot wrapped up," +said Dr. Port; "what is the matter with it?"—"I cut it with an axe, the +other day," said he, "very badly."—"On the upper part of the foot?" +said the doctor. "Yes, directly on the instep," said Capt. R. "Is it +doing well?"—"Not very well," he replied; "and I came into town to-day +partly to see and converse with you about it."—"Well, then, undo it and +let me have a look at it."</p> + +<p>Wrapper after wrapper was now taken from the lame foot, till Dr. Port +began to scowl. "You keep it too warm," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> he. "A wound of this sort +should be kept cool, if you don't wish to have it inflame. A slight +wrapping is all that is needful." They came at length to the wound. "It +does not look very badly," said Dr. Port; "but you must keep it cool. +And then," added he with an oath, the very thought of which to this day +almost makes me shudder, "You must keep your nasty, abominable ointments +away from it. Remember one thing, Capt. R., whenever you have a new +flesh wound, all you can possibly do with any hope of advantage is to +bring the divided edges of the parts together and keep them there, and +nature will take care of the rest."</p> + +<p>"Would you, then, do nothing at all but bind it up and keep it still?" +said Capt. R. "Nothing at all," said he, "unless it should inflame; and +then a little water applied to it is as good as any thing."—"But is +there nothing of a healing nature I can use?" said the captain. "I have +told you already," said he, with another strange oath, "that you don't +want any thing healing on the outside, if you had a cart-load of +medicaments. All wounds, when they heal at all, heal from the bottom; +and of course all your external applications are useless, except so far +as is necessary to protect the parts from fresh injury and keep them +from the air."</p> + +<p>The crowd around looked as if they were amazed; but it was Dr. Port who +said it, and therefore it must be swallowed. I was somewhat surprised +with the rest. And I have not a doubt that what he said was to most of +them an invaluable lecture. For myself, as a student of <i>man</i>, it was +just what I needed. It set me to thinking. It was a lesson which I could +never forget if I were to live a thousand years.</p> + +<p>It was a lesson, moreover, which I have repeated almost a thousand +times, in circumstances not dissimilar. Indeed, I believe this very +occurrence did much to turn my attention to the medical profession. I +saw at once it was a rational thing; a matter of plain common sense; a +thing of principle; and not on the one hand a bundle of mysteries, nor +on the other a mere humbug.</p> + +<p>Dr. Port long ago paid the debt of nature; but not till he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> had made his +mark on the age he lived in. If, indeed, he died as the fool dieth,—and +thus it was said he <i>did</i> die,—he was at least a means of teaching +others to live right. He did great good by his frequent wise precepts, +as well as not a little harm by his sometimes immoral example. For +myself, I honor him because he was my teacher on a point of great +practical importance, and because he was to thousands of over-credulous +people a light and a benefactor.</p> + +<p>Although I had not at this time any very serious thoughts of becoming a +physician and surgeon, yet I certainly inclined in that direction. My +great poverty was the chief difficulty that lay in my way; but this +difficulty at that time seemed insurmountable. Besides, I was wedded to +my father's farm, and I did not see how the banns could very well be +sundered.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>LEE'S WINDHAM BILIOUS PILLS.</h3> + + +<p>I was, at length, twenty-two years of age. I had about fifty dollars in +my pocket, besides a few books. But what would this do towards giving me +a liberal education? And yet, to an education in the schools, of some +sort, either as a means to a profession, or as affording facilities for +obtaining knowledge or communicating it to others, I certainly did +aspire. But I seemed compelled for the present to plod on in the old +way.</p> + +<p>There had been, but recently, a gold fever—not, it is true, of +California, but of Carolina. The young men of the North, shrewd, +intelligent, active, and ambitious Yankees, had flocked by hundreds, if +not by thousands, from New England to the Southern States, to sell tin +ware and clocks, especially the former. The trade at first had been very +lucrative. Though many had been made poor by it, yet many more had been +made rich. I do not say how honorably the trade had been conducted. To +sell tin lanterns, worth fifty cents each, for silver, at fifty dollars, +and tin toddy sticks, worth a New York shilling, for twelve dollars, did +not in the final result redound much to our New England credit. Though +it brought us gold, it did not permanently enrich us.</p> + +<p>A much better trade had now, in 1820, sprung up with the South. The +North—the great nursery of America—had still a surplus of young men +who wanted to go somewhere. A part of them found their way to Carolina +and Georgia, and engaged during the winter, and occasionally through the +year, in teaching; while another part labored on their canals and +railroads and in their shops. This was to furnish the South with a +commodity of real value, for which we received in return a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> fair +compensation. Besides, it had a better effect than clock and tin +peddling, both on the seller and buyer.</p> + +<p>To improve my pecuniary condition, and to acquaint myself with the +world, I prepared to embark for the South. My purpose was to teach. It +was the beginning of October, and yellow fever was said to be raging in +Charleston, where I purposed to disembark. Was it, then, safe for me to +go? Should the prospect of doing good, improving my mind, and bettering +my condition in many other respects, weigh against the danger of +disease; or was it preferable that I should wait?</p> + +<p>My numerous friends counselled me according to their various +temperaments and prepossessions. The strong and vigorous in body and +mind said, <i>Go on</i>; the feeble and timorous and trembling interposed +their caution. But the vessel was ready and would soon sail; and I saw +on board many of my acquaintances. The temptation was before me, and was +great; the dangers, though many, were remote—the dangers of the sea +excepted. For these, it is true, I was, like everybody else, entirely +unprepared, having never before in my life crossed more than a single +river. I was moreover exceedingly timid.</p> + +<p>One kind friend—kind, I mean, in general intention—who had been many +years at the South, amid the ravages of the gold fever, as well as other +fevers more or less yellow, whispered me just at this critical moment, +"Take with you a box of Lee's Windham Bilious Pills; and as soon as you +arrive at Charleston, make it your rule to swallow, every other day, one +of these pills. That will prevent your getting the fever. I have often +tried it, and always with success."</p> + +<p>My friend's words gave me more courage than his pills. I saw that he had +been in the midst of sickness and had lived through it. Why might not I? +My mind was soon made up to proceed on the journey.</p> + +<p>We sailed from New Haven in Connecticut, and were seventeen days on our +passage. When we reached Charleston, either the yellow fever had spent +itself or it had not recently been there, except in a few rare +instances. I found no use for pills of any kind, except <i>such as grew on +fruit-trees</i>—the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> apple, peach, orange, persimmon, etc., or such as +were the products of the corn, potato, and rice fields; nor did I ever +take any other while I remained in the South. A queer idea, I often said +to myself, that of taking poison while a person is well, in order to +prevent becoming sick! In any event, I did not do it.</p> + +<p>There was sickness in the country, however, if not in the city; and I +was much and often exposed to it. But what then? How would one of Lee's +pills defend me from it, even for two days? I preferred to eat and drink +and sleep correctly, and then trust to my good fortune and to Him who +controlled it, rather than to nauseous and poisonous medicine. And I had +my choice, and with it a blessed reward. I was in the low country of +North and South Carolina and Virginia six months or more, and often and +again much exposed to disease, and yet I never had a sick day while I +remained there. And yet, as I have before intimated, I never took a +particle of medicine during the whole time.</p> + +<p>Once, indeed, I was beguiled into the foolish habit of using French +brandy with my dinner, under the idea that it would promote digestion. +But I did not continue it long; and I verily believe that it did me more +harm than good while I used it; for I have at no other period of my life +suffered so much from dyspeptic tendencies as during the summer which +followed this temporary indulgence of brandy with my dinner.</p> + +<p>During my wanderings in the South, I had, much of the time, a fellow +traveller, who, though he took no medicine, was less cautious than +myself, and less fortunate. Perhaps his very recklessness served as a +warning to me. In truth, without being much of a theologian, I have +sometimes thought that the errors of mankind were intended in the divine +plan—at least in part—for this very end. Happy, then, if this is so, +are they who make a wise use of them!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>DR. SOLOMON AND HIS PATIENT.</h3> + + +<p>I have said that my fellow traveller was less cautious than myself, and +have intimated much more. He was in some respects cautious, and yet in +others absolutely reckless. When hot and thirsty, for example, instead +of just rinsing out his mouth and swallowing a very little water, he +would half-fill his stomach with some of that semi-putrid stuff, ycleped +water, which you often find in Virginia and the Carolinas; and when +hungry, he would eat almost any thing he could lay hold of, and in +almost any quantity, as well as at almost any hours, whether seasonable +or unseasonable.</p> + +<p>This course of conduct seemed to answer very well for a few months; but +a day of retribution at last came. He was then in Norfolk, in Virginia. +I had been absent from the place a few weeks, and on my return found him +sick with a fever, and without such assistance as was absolutely and +indispensably necessary. There were Yankees in the place in great +numbers, and some of them were his personal acquaintances and friends; +but they had hitherto refused to come near him, lest they should take +the fever.</p> + +<p>I proceeded to take care of him by night and by day. At the suggestion +of an old citizen, in whom I placed great confidence, Dr. Solomon was +called in as his physician. There was some bleeding and drugging, and a +pretty constant attendance for many weeks; but the young man finally +recovered.</p> + +<p>If you ask what this chapter has to do with my medical confessions, I +will tell you. Dr. Solomon was an old school physician, and made certain +blunders, which I am about to confess for him. He prescribed—as very +many of us his medical<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> brethren formerly did, for the <i>name</i> of a +disease rather than for the disease itself, just as it now appeared.</p> + +<p>Thus, suppose the disease was typhus fever; in that case he seemed to +give just about so many pills and powders every day, without much regard +to the circumstances; believing that somehow or other, and at some time +or other, good would come out of it. If his patient had sufficient force +of constitution to enable him to withstand both the disease and the +medicine, and ultimately to recover, Dr. S. had the credit of a cure; +not, perhaps that he claimed it,—his friends awarded the honor. If the +patient died, it was on account of the severity of the disease. Neither +the doctor nor his medicine was supposed to be at fault. Some, indeed, +regarded it as the mysterious work of Divine Providence.</p> + +<p>Dr. S. attended my young companion in pedestrianism a long time, and +sometimes brought a student into the bargain. He probably kept his +patient insane with his medicine about half the time, and greatly +prolonged his disease and his sufferings. But he knew no better way. He +was trained to all this. The idea that half a dozen careful visits, +instead of fifty formal ones, and a few shillings' worth of medicine +instead of some twenty or thirty dollars' worth, would give the young +man a better prospect of recovery than his own routine of fashionable +book-dosing and drugging, never for once, I dare say, entered his head. +And yet his head was large enough to hold such a simple idea, had it +been put there very early; and the deposit would have done much to make +him—what physicians will one day become—a rich blessing to the world.</p> + +<p>Reader, are here no confessions of medical importance? If not, bear with +me awhile, and you will probably find them. We have yet a long road to +travel, and there are many confessions to be made in which I have a +personal concern and responsibility, and, as you may perhaps conclude, +no small share of downright culpability.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>PHYSICKING OFF FEVER.</h3> + + +<p>The eyes of my mind having just begun to be opened to the impotence of a +mere routine of medication as a <i>substitute for nature</i>, rather than <i>as +an aid to her enfeebled efforts</i>, I was prepared to make a wise use of +other facts that came before me, especially those in which I had a +personal concern and interest. Here is one of this description.</p> + +<p>On the morning of March 12, 1821, during the very period when I was +watching over my sick friend, as mentioned in the preceding chapter, I +took from the post-office a letter with a black seal. It contained the +distressing intelligence of the death of a much-valued sister and her +husband, both of whom, but a few months before, I had left in apparently +perfect health.</p> + +<p>On a careful inquiry into the particulars, both by letter and, after my +return, in other ways, I learned that the Connecticut River fever, as it +was then and there called, having carried off several persons who were +residing in the same house with my brother, the survivors were advised +to do something to prevent the germination and development of such seeds +of the disease as were supposed to be in their bodies and ready to burst +forth into action. I do not know that any medical man encouraged this +notion, the offspring of ignorance and superstition; but my brother and +his wife had somehow or other imbibed it, and they governed themselves +accordingly.</p> + +<p>Both of them took medicine—moderate cathartics—till they thought they +had physicked off the disease; and all seemed, for a time, to be well, +except that they complained still of great weakness and debility. It was +not long, however, before they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> were both taken with the disease and +perished; my brother in a very short time, and my sister more slowly.</p> + +<p>My sister, on being taken ill, had been removed to the house of her +mother, in the hope that a change of air might do something for her; but +all in vain. My mother and a few other friends who were with them as +assistants sickened, but they all ultimately recovered. They, however, +took no medicine by way of prevention.</p> + +<p>Now I do not presume to say, that my young friends were destroyed solely +by medicine, for the assertion would be unwarranted. I only state the +facts, and tell you what my convictions then were, and what they are +still. My belief is, that though they might have sickened had they taken +no medicine or preventive, yet their chance of recovery after they +sickened was very much diminished by the unnecessary and uncalled-for +dosing and drugging.</p> + +<p>The notion that we can physick off the seeds of disease, or by our +dosing prevent their germination, is as erroneous as can possibly be, +and is a prolific source of much suffering and frequent death. The best +preventive of disease is good health. Now, physicking off generally +weakens us, instead of giving strength. It takes away from our good +health instead of adding to or increasing it. As a general rule, to +which there are very few exceptions, all medicine, when disease is +unusually common or fatal, is hazardous without sound medical advice, +and not generally safe even then. It is fit only for extreme cases.</p> + +<p>You may be at a loss to understand how such facts and reflections as +these could allure me to the study and practice of medicine as a +profession. Yet they most certainly had influence. Not that I felt a +very strong desire to deal out medicine, for to this I felt a repugnance +which strengthened with increase of years and experience. What I most +ardently desired was to know the causes of disease, and how far they +were or were not within human control. Such a science as that of +<i>hygiene</i>—nay, even the word itself, and the phrase <i>laws of +health</i>—was at that time wholly unknown in the world in which I moved. +There was, in truth, no way then to this species of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> knowledge, except +through the avenues opened by a course of medical study. Hence it was +that I blundered on, in partial though not entire ignorance, for some +time longer, groping and searching for that light which I hardly knew +how or whence to seek, except in pills and powders and blisters and +tinctures.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>MANUFACTURING CHILBLAINS.</h3> + + +<p>At the period of my life to which we have at length arrived, I was for +four or five months of every year a school teacher. This was, in no +trifling degree, an educational process; for is it not well known that,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Teaching we learn, and giving we retain?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was at least an education in the great school of human nature.</p> + +<p>Every morning of one of these winter sessions of school keeping, Lydia +Maynard, eight years of age, after walking about a mile, frequently in +deep snow, and combating the cold northwest winds of one of the southern +Green Mountain ranges, would come into the schoolroom with her feet +almost frozen, and take her seat close to the stove, so as to warm them +and be ready for school as quickly as possible. Here she would sit, if +permitted to do so, till the bell rang for school.</p> + +<p>It was not long before I learned that she was a great sufferer from +chilblains. Whether she inherited a tendency to this troublesome and +painful disease, which was awakened and aggravated by sudden changes of +temperature, or whether the latter were the original cause of the +disease, I never knew with certainty. But I was struck with the fact +that sudden warming was followed by such lasting and terrible +consequences.</p> + +<p>And herein is one reason why I have opposed, from that day to this, the +custom or habit, so exceedingly prevalent, of rushing to the fire when +we are very cold, and warming ourselves as quickly as possible. I have +reasoned; I have commanded; and in some few instances I have ridiculed. +Every one knows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> it is hazardous to bring the ears or fingers or toes, +or any other parts of the body, suddenly to the fire when really +frozen,—that is, when the temperature is lowered down in the part to +32°; and yet, if it is only down to 33°, and the part not quite frozen, +almost every one, young and old, will venture to the fire. Can there be +such a difference in the effects when there is only a difference of one +degree in temperature? No reflecting person will for one moment believe +it. The trouble is we do not think about it.</p> + +<p>Sudden changes from heat to cold are little more favorable than when the +change is in the other direction. Indeed, it often happens that children +at school are subjected to both these causes. Thus, in the case of +Lydia, suppose that after roasting herself a long time at the stove, she +had gone to her seat and placed her feet directly over crevices in the +floor, through which the cold wind found its way at almost freezing +temperature. Would not this have greatly added to the severity of the +disease?</p> + +<p>There are, it is true, other reasons against sudden changes of +temperature, particularly the change from cold to heat, besides the fact +that they tend to produce chilblains; but I cannot do more just now than +barely advert to them. The eyes are apt to be injured; it renders us +more liable than otherwise we should be to take cold. Occasionally it +brings on faintness and convulsions, and still more rarely, sudden +death. I will only add now, that sudden warming after suffering from +extreme cold, whether we perceive it or not at the time, is very apt to +produce deep and lasting injury to the brain and nervous system.</p> + +<p>But my main object in relating the story is answered if I have succeeded +in clearly pointing out to the reader one of the avenues through which +light found its way to my benighted intellect, and led me to reflection +on the whole subject of health and disease. Here was obviously one cause +of a frequent but most painful complaint. It was natural, perfectly +natural, that by this time I should begin to inquire. Have all diseases, +then, their exciting causes? Many certainly have; and if many,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> perhaps +all. At least, how do we know but it may be so? And then again, if the +causes of chilblains are within our control, and this troublesome +disease might be prevented, or its severity mitigated if no more, why +may it not be so with all other diseases?</p> + +<p>To revert for a moment to the case of Lydia Maynard. Though I was the +cause, in a certain sense, of her suffering, yet it was a sin of +ignorance. But it taught me much wisdom. It made me cautious ever +afterward. I do not doubt but I have been a means of preventing a very +considerable amount of suffering in this form, since that time, by +pointing out the road that leads to it.</p> + +<p>Prevention is better than cure, was early my motto, and is so still. And +from the day in which I began to open my eyes on the world around me, +and to reason from effects up to their causes, I have been more and more +confirmed in the belief that mankind as a race are to be the artificers +of their own happiness or misery. All facts point in this direction, +some of them with great certainty. And facts, everywhere and always, are +stubborn things.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>HOW TO MAKE ERYSIPELAS.</h3> + + +<p>My periodical tendency to a species of eruptive disease closely +resembling measles, was mentioned in Chapter IV. During the summer of +1823 this affection became unusually severe, and seemed almost beyond +endurance. The circumstances were as follows:—</p> + +<p>I had in charge a large and difficult school. The weather was very hot, +and I was not accustomed to labor in summer within doors. Besides, my +task was so difficult as to call forth all the energies of body and mind +both; and the "wear and tear" of my system was unusually great. It was +in the very midst of these severe labors, in hot and not well-ventilated +air, that the eruption appeared. Perhaps it was aggravated by my diet, +which, in "boarding around," was of course not the best.</p> + +<p>The eruption not only affected my body and reached to the extremities, +but was accompanied by an itching so severe that I was occasionally +compelled to lie awake all night. My general strength at last began to +give way under it, and I sought the advice of our family physician.</p> + +<p>He advised me to use, as a wash to the irritated and irritable surface, +a weak solution of corrosive sublimate. I hesitated; especially as I +believed it to be, with him, an experiment. But on his repeated +assurance, that if I would take special care of myself and avoid taking +cold, there was no danger, I waived my objections, and proceeded to +carry out his plan.</p> + +<p>The solution was applied, accordingly, to the letter of the doctor's +directions. For many days no change appeared, either favorable or +adverse. At length a most distressing headache came on and remained. My +sufferings became so severe that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> I was obliged to postpone my school +and return to my father's house.</p> + +<p>On the road, I observed that an eruption of a peculiar kind had +appeared, particularly about the forehead, accompanied with small +blisters. It was not here that I had applied the solution, but on the +arms, chest, and lower limbs. Of course the corrosive sublimate, if at +all operative, had affected me through the medium of the circulation and +not by direct contact.</p> + +<p>Our physician came, pronounced the disease erysipelas, and without +saying a word about the cause, prescribed; and I followed out carefully +his prescription. But the disease had its course in spite of us both, +and was very severe. It took away my sleep entirely for a day or two. It +proved a means of removing the hair from one side of my head, and of so +injuring the skin that it never grew again. Indeed, gangrene or +mortification had actually commenced at several points. Suddenly, +however, the pain and inflammation subsided, and I recovered.</p> + +<p>Now my physician never said that I was poisoned by the corrosive +sublimate, probably for the two following reasons: 1, I never made the +inquiry. 2, He would probably have ascribed the disease to taking cold +rather than to the mercury, had I inquired. I do not believe I took +cold, however. How it came to affect me so unfavorably I never knew with +certainty; but that it was the medicine that did the mischief I never +for one moment doubted. I suppose it was absorbed; but of the manner of +its introduction to the system I am less certain than of the fact +itself.</p> + +<p>But besides the absorption of the corrosive sublimate into the system, +and its consequences—a terrible caution to those who are wont to apply +salves, ointments, washes, etc., to the surface of the body +unauthorized—I learned another highly important lesson from this +circumstance. Active medicines, as I saw more plainly than ever before, +are as a sword with two edges. If they do not cut in the right +direction, they are almost sure to cut in the wrong.</p> + +<p>I must not close, however, without telling you a little more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> about the +treatment of my disease. After I had left my school and had arrived at +home, a solution of sugar of lead was ordered in the very coldest water. +With this, through the intervention of layers of linen cloth, I was +directed to keep my head constantly moistened. Its object, doubtless, +was to check the inflammation, which had become exceedingly violent. Why +the sugar of lead itself was not absorbed, thus adding poison to poison, +is to me inconceivable. Perhaps it was so; and yet, such was the force +of my constitution, feeble though it was, that I recovered in spite of +both poisons. Or, what is more probable, perhaps the lead, if absorbed +at all, did not produce its effects till the effects of the corrosive +sublimate were on the wane; so that the living system was only +necessitated to war with one poison at a time. Mankind are made to live, +at least till they are worn out; and it is not always easy to poison a +person to death, if we would. In other words, human nature is tough.</p> + +<p>Now I do not know, by the way, that any one but myself ever suspected, +even for one moment, that this attack of erysipelas was caused by the +corrosive sublimate. But could I avoid such a conclusion? Was it a hasty +or forced one? Judge, then, whether it was not perfectly natural that I +should be led by such an unfortunate adventure to turn my attention more +than ever to the subject of preserving and promoting health.</p> + +<p>For if our family physician—cautious and judicious as in general he +was—had been the unintentional cause of a severe attack from a violent +and dangerous disease, which had come very near destroying my life, what +blunders might not be expected from the less careful and cautious man, +especially the beginner in medicine? And if medical men, old and young, +scientific as well as unscientific, make occasional blunders, how much +more frequently the mass of mankind, who, in their supposed knowledge of +their own constitutions and those of their families, are frequently +found dosing and drugging themselves and others?</p> + +<p>I do not mean to say that in the incipiency of my observations and +inquiries my mind was mature enough—well educated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> enough, I mean—to +pursue exactly the foregoing train of thought; but there was certainly a +tendency that way, as will be seen more fully in the next chapter. The +spell at least was broken, and I saw plainly that if "died by the +visitation of God" <i>never</i> means any thing, it <i>generally</i> does not. And +as it turned out that the further I pushed my inquiries the more I found +that diseases were caused by transgression of physical and moral law, +and hence not uncontrollable, why should it not be so, still farther on, +in the great world of facts which I had not yet penetrated?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>STUDYING MEDICINE.</h3> + + +<p>My thoughts were now directed with considerable earnestness and +seriousness, to the study of medicine. It is true that I was already in +the twenty-fourth year of my age, and that the statute law of the State +in which I was a resident required three years of study before receiving +a license to practise medicine and surgery, and I should hence be in my +twenty-seventh or twenty-eighth year before I could enter actively and +responsibly upon the duties of my profession, which would be rather late +in life. Besides, I had become quite enamored of another profession, +much better adapted to my slender pecuniary means than the study of a +new one.</p> + +<p>However, I revolved the subject in my mind, till at length, as I +thought, I saw my path clearly. It was my undoubted duty to pursue the +study of medicine. Still, there were difficulties which to any but men +of decision of character were not easily got removed. Shall I tell you +how they were gradually and successfully overcome?</p> + +<p>Our family physician had an old skeleton, and a small volume of anatomy +by Cheselden, as well as a somewhat more extended British work on +anatomy and physiology; all these he kindly offered to lend me. Then he +would permit me to study with him, or at least occasionally recite to +him, which would answer the letter of the law. Then, again, I could, +during the winter of each year of study except the last, teach school, +and thus add to my pecuniary means of support. And lastly, my father +would board me whenever I was not teaching, and on as long a credit as I +desired. Were not, then, all my difficulties practically overcome, at +least prospectively?</p> + +<p>It was early in the spring of the year 1822 that I carried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> to my +father's house an old dirty skeleton and some musty books, and commenced +the study of medicine and surgery, or at least of those studies which +are deemed a necessary preparation. It was rather dry business at first, +but I soon became very much interested in the study of physiology, and +made considerable progress. My connection with our physician proved to +be merely nominal, as I seldom found him ready to hear a recitation. +Besides, my course of study was rather desultory, not to say irregular.</p> + +<p>In the autumn of 1824, having occasion to teach school at such a +distance as rendered it almost impracticable for me to continue my +former connection as a student, I made arrangements for studying with +another physician on terms not unlike those in the former case. My new +teacher, however, occasionally heard me recite, especially in what is +properly called the practice of medicine and in surgery. His +instructions, though very infrequent, were of service to me.</p> + +<p>In 1825 I became a boarder in his family, where I remained about a year. +Here I had an opportunity to consult and even study the various standard +authors in the several departments which are usually regarded as +belonging to a course of medical study. So that if I was not in due time +properly qualified to "practise medicine and surgery in this or any +other country," the fault was chiefly my own.</p> + +<p>However, in the spring of 1825, after I had attended a five months' +course of lectures in one of the most famous medical colleges of the +Northern States, I was regularly examined and duly licensed. <i>How</i> well +qualified I was supposed to be, did not exactly appear. It was +marvellous that I succeeded at all, for I had labored much on the farm +during the three years, taught school every winter and two summers, had +two or three seasons of sickness, besides a severe attack of influenza +(this, you know, is not regarded as a disease by many) while attending +lectures, which confined me a week or more. And yet one of my fellow +students, who was present at the examination, laughed at my studied +accuracy!</p> + +<p>One word about my thesis, or dissertation. It was customary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> at the +college where I heard lectures—as it probably is at all others of the +kind—to require each candidate for medical license to read before the +board, prior to his examination, an original dissertation on some topic +connected with his professional studies. The topic I selected was +pulmonary consumption; especially, the means of preventing it. It was, +as may be conjectured, a slight departure from the ordinary routine, but +was characteristic of the writer's mind, prevention being then, as it +still is, and probably always will be, with him a favorite idea. I go so +far, even, as to insist that it should be the favorite idea of every +medical man, from the beginning to the end of his career. "The best part +of the medical art is the art of avoiding pain," was the motto for many +years of the <i>Boston Medical Intelligencer</i>; and it embraced a most +important truth. When will it be fully and practically received?</p> + +<p>But I must recapitulate a little; or rather, I must go back and give the +reader a few chapters of incidents which occurred while I was a student +under Dr. W., my second and principal teacher. I will however study +brevity as much as possible.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>NATURE'S OWN EYE WATER.</h3> + + +<p>When I began the study of medicine, my eyes were so exceedingly weak, +and had been for about ten years, or indeed always after the attack of +measles, that I was in the habit of shading them, much of the time, with +green or blue glasses. My friends, many of them, strongly objected to +any attempt to pursue the study of medicine on this very account. And +the attempt was, I confess, rather hazardous.</p> + +<p>What seemed most discouraging in the premises was the consideration that +I had gone, to no manner of purpose, the whole round of eye waters, +elixir vitriol itself not excepted. Was there room, then, for a single +gleam of hope? Yet I was resolutely, perhaps obstinately, determined on +making an effort. I could but fail.</p> + +<p>Soon after I made a beginning, the thought struck me, "Why not make the +experiment of frequently bathing the eyes in cold water?" At that very +moment they were hot and somewhat painful; and suiting the action to the +thought, I held my face for some seconds in very cold water. The +sensation was indescribably agreeable; and I believe that for once in my +life, at the least, I felt a degree of gratitude to God, my Creator, for +cold water.</p> + +<p>The practice was closely and habitually followed. Whenever my eyes +became hot and painful, I put my face for a short time in water, even if +it were <i>twenty</i> times a day. The more I bathed them, the greater the +pleasure, nor was it many days before they were evidently less inflamed +and less troublesome. Why, then, should I not persevere?</p> + +<p>I carried the practice somewhat further still. I found from experiment, +that I could open my eyes in the water. At first,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> it is true, the +operation was a little painful, and I raised, slightly, its temperature. +Gradually, however, I became so much accustomed to it that the sensation +was not only less painful, but even somewhat agreeable. In a few weeks I +could bear to open my eyes in the water, and keep them open as long as I +was able to hold my breath, even at a very low temperature.</p> + +<p>Perseverance in this practice not only enabled me to proceed with my +studies, contrary to the expectation of my friends, and in spite, too, +of my own apprehensions, but gave me in addition the unspeakable +pleasure of finding my eyes gaining every year in point of strength, as +well as clearness of sight. My glasses were laid aside, and I have never +used any for that specific purpose since that time. Of course I do not +mean by this to say that my eyes remain as convex as they were at +twenty-five or thirty years of age, for that would not be true. They +have most certainly flattened a little since I came to be fifty years of +age, for I am compelled to wear glasses when I would read or write. I +mean, simply, that they have never suffered any more from inflammation +or debility, since I formed the habit of bathing them, even up to the +present hour.</p> + +<p>The more I observe on this subject, the more I am persuaded—apart from +my own experience—that pure water, at the lowest temperature which can +be used without giving pain, is the best known eye medicine in the +world, not merely for one, two, or ten in a hundred persons, but for +all. I recommend it, therefore, at every opportunity, not only to my +patients but to others. It may doubtless be abused, like every other +good gift; but in wise and careful hands it will often accomplish almost +every thing but downright miracles. We may begin with water a little +tepid, and lower the temperature as gradually as we please, till we come +to use it ice cold.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE VIPER STORY.</h3> + + +<p>I was, early in life, greatly perplexed in mind by the oft-recurring +question, why it was that in the hands of common sense men, every known +system of medicine—even one which was diametrically opposed to the +prevailing custom or belief, like that of Hahnemann, seemed to be +successful. Not only the botanic practitioner with his herbs, and the +homœopathist with his billionth dilutions, but even the no-medicine +man<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> could boast of his cures, and, for aught I could see, of about an +equal number—good sense and perseverance and other things being equal. +And then, again, he that bled everybody, or almost everybody, if +abounding in good sense, like the late Dr. Hubbard, of Pomfret, in +Connecticut, was about as successful as those who, like Dr. Danforth, +once an eminent practitioner of Boston, would bleed nobody, nor, if in +his power to prevent it, suffer the lancet to be used by anybody else.</p> + +<p>While cogitating on this subject one day, the following anecdote from a +surgical work—I think a French work—came under my eye, and at once +solved the problem, and relieved me of my difficulty. It may probably be +relied on.</p> + +<p>When the Abbé Fontana, a distinguished medical man and naturalist, was +travelling, once, in some of the more northern countries of Europe, he +was greatly surprised to find such a wonderful variety of applications +to the bite of the viper, and still more to find them all successful, or +at least about equally so. Even those that were in character +diametrically opposed to each other, <i>all cured</i>. His astonishment +continued and increased when he found at length that those who applied +nothing at all recovered about as readily as any of the rest.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<p>In the sequel, as the result of diligent and scientific research, it +turned out that the bite of this animal, however dangerous and fatal in +hot climates, is scarcely dangerous at all in cold ones. Hence it was +that all sorts of treatment appeared to cure. In other words, the +persons who were bitten all recovered in spite of the applications made +to their wounds, and generally in about the same period of time.</p> + +<p>Thus, as I began to suspect,—and the reader must pardon the suspicion, +if he can,—it may be with our diversified and diverse modes of medical +treatment. A proportion of our patients,—perhaps I should say a large +proportion,—if well nursed and cared for and encouraged, would recover +if let alone so far as regards medicine. And it is in proof of this +view, that nearly as many recover under one mode of practice, provided +that practice is guided by a large share of plain, unsophisticated +sense, as another. And does not this fully account for a most remarkable +fact?</p> + +<p>Hence it is, too,—and perhaps hence alone,—that we can account for the +strange development in Boston, not many years since, during a public +medical discussion; viz., that he who had given his tens of pounds of +calomel to his patients, and taken from their arms his hogsheads of +blood, had been on the whole about as successful a practitioner as he +who had revolted from the very thought of both, and had adopted some of +the various forms of the stimulating rather than the depleting system.</p> + +<p>"Is there, then, no choice between medication and no-medication? For if +so, what necessity is there of the medical profession? Why not +annihilate it at once?"</p> + +<p>My reply is,—and it would have been about the same when these +discoveries began to be made,—that there is no occasion to give up the +whole thing because it has been so sadly abused. Every mode of medical +practice, not to say every medical practitioner from the very beginning, +has been, of necessity, more or less empirical. The whole subject has +been involved in so much ignorance and uncertainty, that even our wisest +practitioners have been liable to err. They have been led, unawares, to +prescribe quite too much for names rather than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> for symptoms; and their +patients were often glad to have it so. And were the whole matter to +come to an end this day, it might well be questioned whether the +profession, as a whole, has been productive of more good than evil to +mankind. But then, every thing must have its infancy before it can come +to manhood. And it is a consolation to believe that the duration of that +manhood always bears some degree of proportion to the time required in +advancing from infancy to maturity.</p> + +<p>Medicine, then, as a science, is valuable in prospect. And then, too, it +is worth something to have a set of men among us on whom we may fasten +our faith; for, credulous as everybody is and will be in this matter of +health and disease, till they can duly be taught the laws of hygiene, +they will lean upon somebody; it is certainly desirable that they should +rely on those whom they know, rather than upon strangers, charlatans, +and conjurors, of whom they know almost nothing.</p> + +<p>But I shall have frequent occasion to revert to this subject in other +chapters, and must therefore dismiss it for the present, in order to +make room for other facts, anecdotes, and reflections.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Of the hydropathist at that time I had not heard.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>STRUCK WITH DEATH.</h3> + + +<p>Throughout the region where I was brought up, and perhaps throughout the +civilized world, the notion has long prevailed that in some of the last +moments of a person's life, he is or may be "struck with death;" by +which, I suppose the more intelligent simply mean that such a change +comes over him as renders his speedy departure to the spirit-world +inevitable.</p> + +<p>Now that we are really justified in saying of many persons who are in +their last moments, that they are beyond the reach of hope, is doubtless +true. When decomposition, for instance, has actually commenced, and the +vital organs have already begun to falter, it would be idle to conceal +the fact, were we able to do so, that life is about to be extinguished +beyond the possibility of doubt.</p> + +<p>In general, however, it is never quite impossible for the sick to +recover even after recovery <i>seems</i> to be impossible. So many instances +of this kind have been known, that we ought at least, to be exceedingly +cautious about pronouncing with certainty, and to encourage rather than +repel the application of the old saying, "as long as there is life, +there is hope."<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p> + +<p>I had a lesson on this subject while a medical student, which was +exceedingly instructive, and which, if I were to live a thousand years, +I could never forget. It was worth more to me in practical life +afterward, than all my books and recitations would have been without it. +The facts were these:—</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<p>My teacher of medicine used occasionally to take his students with him +when he rode abroad on his professional visits. One day, it fell to my +lot to bear him company. His patient was an aged farmer, a teamster +rather, who had been for some time ill of a fever, and had not been +expected to recover. Yet his case was not so desperate but that the +physician was expected to continue his daily visits.</p> + +<p>On our arrival at the house of the sick man, we were met by a member of +the family, who said, "Come in, doctor, but you are too late to do us +any good. Mr. H. is struck with death; all the world could not save him +now."</p> + +<p>We entered the room. There lay the patient almost gone, surely. So at +least, at the first view, it appeared. It was a hot summer day, and +hardly a breath of air was stirring. The friends were gathered around +the bed, and there was less freedom of circulation in the air of the +sick-room than elsewhere. It was almost enough to kill a healthy man to +be shut up in such a stagnant atmosphere; what, then, must have been the +effect on one so sick and feeble?</p> + +<p>The doctor beckoned them away from the bed, and requested them to open +another window. They did it rather reluctantly; but then, <i>they did it</i>. +The sufferer lay panting, as if the struggle was almost over. "Don't you +think he is struck with death, doctor?" whispered one and another and +another. Almost out of patience, the doctor at length replied: "Struck +with death? What do you mean? No; he is no more struck with death than I +am. He is struck much more with the heat and bad air. Raise another +window."</p> + +<p>The window was raised. "Now," said he, "set that door wide open." It was +quickly done. "Now bring me a bowl of water, and a teaspoon." The bowl +of water was quickly brought. "Put a little water into his mouth with +the teaspoon," said he. "O doctor," they replied, "it will only distress +him; he is already struck with death."—"Try it then, and see."</p> + +<p>Tremblingly they now moistened his parched lips. "Put a little of it in +his mouth, with the teaspoon," he said. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> shuddered; the doctor +persisted. "Why," said the attendant, "he has not been able to swallow +any thing these two hours." "How do you know?" said he. "Why, he has +been all the while struck with death."—"Nonsense! have you tried it?" +"Tried it? oh, no; by no means."—"Why not?"—"Because we knew it would +only distress him. He is too far gone to swallow, doctor; you may rely +on it."</p> + +<p>The physician's patience was now well nigh exhausted, as well it might +have been, and seizing the bowl and teaspoon with his own sacrilegious +hands, "I will see," said he, "whether he is struck with death or not."</p> + +<p>He not only wetted his lips and tongue, as they had partially done +before, but gradually insinuated a few drops of Nature's best and only +drink, into the top of his throat. At last he swallowed! The doctor's +hopes revived; while the family stood as if themselves struck, not with +death, but with horror. At length, he swallowed again and again. In half +an hour, he opened his eyes; before we left him, he had become quite +sensible, and, had we encouraged it, might have spoken.</p> + +<p>To make my story as short as possible, the next day he could swallow a +little gruel. The third day, he could be raised upon the bed. The +fourth, though still weak, he was dressed and sat up an hour. In a +fortnight, he was once more driving his team; and for ought I know to +the contrary, unless debarred by reason of age, he may be driving it at +this very moment!</p> + +<p>Going home together from our visit, already so fully described, the +conversation turned on the silly notion which so extensively prevails +about being struck with death. We talked of its origin, its influence, +and its consequences. It had done no good in the world, while it had +been the means, we could not doubt, of indirectly destroying thousands +of valuable lives.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Of its Origin.</span>—How came the notion abroad that a person can be struck +with death, so affected that there is no possible return for him, to +life and health? Struck! By whom? Is there a personage, spiritual but +real, that strikes? Is it the Divine Being? Surely not. Is it an arch +enemy? is it Satan himself?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No day, no glimpse of day, to solve the knot."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The doctor and I had, however, one conjecture concerning it, which, if +it should not instruct the reader, may at least, afford him a little +amusement. It certainly amused us.</p> + +<p>You have seen the old-fashioned New England Primer. It has been in +vogue, I believe, a full century; perhaps nearer two centuries. It has +done not a little to give shape to New England character. In its +preliminary pages is a sort of alphabet of couplets, with cuts prefixed +or annexed. One of the couplets reads thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Youth forward slips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death soonest nips."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>While at its left, is the representation of a skeleton, armed with a +dagger, and pursuing a youth—a child rather—with the apparent +intention of striking him through. Now I cannot say how this picture may +have affected others, but to my medical teacher and myself, as we +mutually agreed, it always brings up the idea of striking down a youth +or child prematurely, and sending him away to the great congregation of +the dead.</p> + +<p>Nor am I quite sure that this representation, innocent as may have been +its intention, has not been the origin of a relentless and cruel +superstition. I know certainly, that my own early notions about being +struck with death, had, somehow or other, a connection with this +picture; and why may it not be so with others?</p> + +<p>But the <i>influence</i> and <i>consequences</i> of this superstition must be +adverted to for a moment. I said they affect and have affected +thousands; perhaps I ought to have said millions. Under the confused and +preposterously silly idea that Death, the personification of Satan or +some other demon, has laid hold of the sick or distressed, and that it +would be a sort of useless, not to say sacrilegious, work to oppose, or +attempt to oppose, the grim messenger, we sometimes leave our sick +friends in the greatest extremity, to suffer and perhaps die, when the +gentle touch of a kind hand, a mere drop of water, or a breath of fresh +air,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> might often bring them back again to life and health and happiness +and usefulness.</p> + +<p>If this chapter should not be deemed a confession of medical impotence, +it is at least a practical confession of medical selfishness or +ignorance. If duly enlightened themselves, medical men ought long ago, +to have rid society of this abominable superstition; and if not +sufficiently enlightened to perceive its existence and evil tendency, +they ought to have abandoned their profession.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Dr. Livingstone, in his work of Travels and Researches in +Africa, tells us that during his residence among the Backwains, a tribe +in the African interior, two persons who had been hastily buried, +perhaps "struck with death" in the first place, returned home "to their +affrighted relatives." p. 143.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>EFFICACY OF COLD SPRING WATER.</h3> + + +<p>An aged man not far from where I was studying, had an attack of +dysentery which was long and severe. Whether the fault of its long +continuance lay in his own bad habits, or the injudicious use of +medicine, or in both, we can inquire to better advantage by and by. I +was not, however, very much acquainted with his physician, so as to be +able in the premises to form a very correct opinion concerning him.</p> + +<p>The greatest puzzle with me, at that time, was why he should live so +long after the disease appeared to have spent itself, without making any +advances. The physician used to call on him day after day, and order +tonic medicine of various kinds, all of which was given with great care +and exactness. Every thing in fact, seemed to be put in requisition, +except what were most needful of all, pure air and water. The former of +these was, as is usual in such cases, neglected; the latter was +absolutely interdicted.</p> + +<p>For this last, as not unfrequently happens at this stage of acute +diseases, the poor man sighed from day to day as though his heart would +break. But, no; he must not have it. The effect on his bowels, he was +told, would be unfavorable. And such at that day was the general +<i>theory</i>. It was not considered that a very small quantity at first, a +few drops merely, would be a great relief, and might be borne, till by +degrees a larger quantity would be admissible.</p> + +<p>After repeated efforts, and much begging and crying for a little water +to cool his parched tongue, the old gentleman, one night dreamed that he +drank from a certain cold spring, which really flowed at a remote corner +of his farm and was a great favorite both with him and his whole family, +and that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> almost immediately restored him. Delighted with his dream, +he no sooner fairly awaked than he called up his eldest son and sent him +with a bottle, to the spring. He did not now <i>plead</i>, he <i>commanded</i>. +The son returned in due time, with a bottle of water. He returned, it is +true, with great fear and trembling, but he could do no less than obey. +The demands and commands were peremptory, and the father was almost +impatient.</p> + +<p>"Now, my son," said the father, "bring me a tumbler." It was brought, +and the father took it. "Now," said he, "pour some of that water into +it." Samuel could do no other way than submit to the lawfully +constituted authority, though it was not without the most painful +apprehensions with regard to the consequences, and he kindly warned his +father of the danger. Nor were his sufferings at all diminished when the +father, in a decided tone of voice, ordered him to fill the tumbler +about half full.</p> + +<p>Whether he had at first intended to drink so large a draught and +afterwards repented, is not known; but instead of swallowing it all at a +draught, the son's distress was greatly mitigated when he saw that he +only just tasted it, and then set down the tumbler. In a few minutes he +drank a little more, and then after a short time a little more still. He +was about half an hour drinking a gill of water. When that was gone, he +ordered more; and persisted in this moderate way till morning. By ten +o'clock, when his physician arrived, he had drunk nearly a quart of it, +and was evidently better. There was a soft, breathy perspiration, as +well as more strength.</p> + +<p>The physician no sooner saw him than he pronounced him better. "What +have you been doing?" he said, rather jocosely. The sick man told him +the simple story of his rebellion from beginning to end. The doctor at +first shook his head, but when he came to reflect on the apparent good +consequences which had followed, he only said: "Well, I suppose we must +remember the old adage, 'Speak well of a bridge that carries you safe +over,'" and then joined in the general cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>The patient continued to drink his spring water from day to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> day, and +with increasing good effects. It acted almost like a charm; it was not +only food and drink to him, but also medicine. Doubtless his great faith +in it was not without its efficacy; still it was not to be denied that +the water did him great and positive good.</p> + +<p>He soon found his newly discovered medicine not only more agreeable to +his taste, but cheaper also than Huxham's tincture and quassia. He also +found that his son's daily visits to the spring cost him less than Dr. +Physic's daily rides of three or four miles. So that though he was +greatly delighted to see the smiling face, and hear the stories and +jolly laugh of the latter, he was glad when he proposed to call less +frequently than he had done and to lay aside all medicine.</p> + +<p>He recovered in a reasonable time, and lived to a very advanced age. A +friend of his and mine, found him in his eighty-sixth year, mowing +thistles barefooted. Two or three years still later, I found him—it was +during the cold month of January, 1852—in the woods with his hired man +far from his house, assisting in cutting and loading wood; in which +employment he seemed to act with much of the energy and not a little of +the activity of his earlier years.</p> + +<p>I do not of course undertake to say that he owed his recovery from his +long sickness, above described solely to drinking cold water, there are +so many other circumstances to be taken into the account, in settling +all questions like this, that such an assertion would be hazardous, not +to say foolish. His fever at the time of making his experiment, had +already passed away; and having great tenacity of life, it was but +reasonable to expect nature would ere long, rally, if she <i>could</i> rally +at all. It is also worthy of remark, that though his physician was one +of those men who place their chief reliance on the medicine they give, +rather than on the recuperative powers of the system, yet to his credit +be it said, he had in this instance departed from his usual routine, and +given comparatively little.</p> + +<p>Perhaps we may explain the phenomenon of his recovery, as follows: +nature long oppressed, yet by rest partially restored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> to her wonted +energy, was now ready to rally as soon as she could get the opportunity; +this the moderate draughts of water by their effects on the circulation +enabled her to do; then, too, one consideration which I forgot to +mention in its place, deserves to be noticed. When the sick man began +the use of water, he laid aside (without the knowledge of his physician) +most of what pills and powders and tinctures were prescribed him. And +finally he had great faith in the water, as you have already seen; +whereas he had lost all faith in drugging and dosing. And the efficacy +of faith is almost sufficient in such cases, to work a cure, were this +our only reliance. Of this we shall have an illustration in Chapter +LXXVI.</p> + +<p>But though the water, as I now fully believe—and as I more than half +believed when I heard of the facts at the time,—was fairly indicated, +there is great hazard, in such circumstances in its use. Had this +gentleman taken a large draught at first, or had he swallowed more +moderate draughts with great eagerness, and a quick succession, it might +have produced an ill effect; it might, even, have provoked a relapse of +his dysentery and fever. Many a sick patient in the same circumstances, +would have poured the cooling liquid into an enfeebled throat and +stomach without the least restraint. And why did not he?</p> + +<p>I will give you one reason. He was early taught to govern himself. He +told me, when eighty-eight years of age, he had made it a rule, all his +life long, never to eat enough, but always to leave off his meals with a +good appetite. He did not indeed, follow out with exactness the rule of +the late Amos Lawrence: "Begin hungry and leave off hungrier," but he +came very near it. He managed so as always to have a good appetite, and +never in the progress of more than fourscore years, whether by night or +day, to lose it. Such a man, if his mind is not too much reduced by long +disease, can be safely trusted with cold spring water, even during the +more painful and trying circumstances of convalescence from acute +disease.</p> + +<p>Another thing deserves to be mentioned in this connection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> He had not +kept his bowels and nervous system, all his life long, under the +influence of rum, tobacco, opium, coffee, tea, or highly seasoned food. +He did not it is true, wholly deny himself any one of these, except +opium and tobacco; but he only used them occasionally, and even then in +great moderation. Nor was it from mere indigence, or culpable stinginess +that he ate and drank, for the most part in a healthful manner. It +seemed to be from a conviction of the necessity of being "temperate in +all things;" and that such a course as he pursued tended to hardihood. +As one evidence of a conviction of this kind, I have known his children +and their school teacher to carry to the schoolroom for their dinner, a +quantity of cold Indian cake—ycleped Johnny cake—and nothing else; nor +was there an attempt at the slightest apology. Such a man would not be +very likely to have an ulcerated alimentary canal, or bad blood; or to +be injured by swallowing every five minutes a table-spoonful of cold +water; no, nor to sink as quickly as other people under the depressing +tendency of irritating or poisonous medicine.</p> + +<p>This last-mentioned fact concerning the use of water,—for it is a fact +on which we can rely, and not one of those statements which Dr. Cullen +was accustomed to call "false facts,"—was to me exceedingly +instructive. It taught me more concerning the human constitution and the +laws of health and disease than I had ever before learned from a single +case of mere disease, in my whole life; and I endeavored to make a wise +use of it—of which as I trust, I shall give some evidence in the very +next chapter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>CHEATING THE PHYSICIAN.</h3> + + +<p>It was by no means an uncommon thing with me, while studying medicine, +to take long walks. One day, in the progress of one of these rambles, I +came so near the family mansion of a young man with whom I had formerly +been acquainted, that I thought I would, for once, go a little out of my +way and make a call on him. And judge, reader, if you can, of my +surprise, when I found him exceedingly sick. For residing, as we did, +only a few miles apart, why had I not heard of it? Most people, in +truth, would have called on some of the young doctors—for there were +three or four of us together,—to take care of the sick man, especially +by night. Young doctors, I grant—and this for various reasons which +might be named, were it needful—are usually the very worst of watchers +and nurses of the sick; but the public often appear to think otherwise, +and even to prefer them.</p> + +<p>I found him under the care of an old school physician;—one who, though +he otherwise prescribed very well, gave quite too much medicine; and +like the old physician mentioned in the preceding chapter, mortally +detested cold water; at least he detested its use in bowel complaints. +The young man's case, however, was as yet wholly unlike that of the +elderly gentleman of the foregoing chapter; and cold water at first, was +not particularly needed; nor perhaps quite safe.</p> + +<p>Some few days afterward, I called again. Found my young friend rather +less feverish, but no better; in fact, he was much worse, and was most +obviously running down. I continued after this to call on him daily, +till he too, like the old man before mentioned, began to beg for cold +water. But his physician said, "No, not a drop," and with a good deal of +emphasis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>One day, while I was at his bedside, he turned to me, and with a most +imploring look begged to know whether I believed a very little cold +water would really hurt him. I told him no; but that a good deal +doubtless would, and might even prove the means of his destruction. +"Simple a thing as water is," I said, "it is to you, in circumstances +like yours, a sword with two edges. If it should not cut away the +disease, it would probably cut in the other direction, to the +destruction of your health, if not of your life."</p> + +<p>My remarks had both awakened his curiosity and increased his desires for +the interdicted beverage. I found I had gone too far, and I frankly told +him so. I told him it was not in accordance with medical etiquette, nor +even with the rules of good breeding, for one medical man to prescribe +for another's patient without his knowledge. But this explanation did +not satisfy him. Water was what he wanted; and as I had opened the +budget and removed some of his fears, water he must have. He was +willing, he said, to bear the responsibility.</p> + +<p>Water, then, in exceedingly small quantity at a time, was permitted; but +it was to be given by stealth. The physician was not allowed to know it, +or, at all events, he was not to know under whose encouragement he +acted. His friends were very careful in regard to the quantity, and I +had the happiness of finding him, in a few days, very much better. But, +as I said in reflecting on the recovery of my aged friend before +mentioned, it is not quite certain, after all, how much was effected by +the water, and how much by the recuperative efforts of Nature herself. +She might have been long waiting for that opportunity to rally, which +the judicious introduction of the water, and the partial or entire +discontinuance of other medicine, greatly facilitated.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>THE MEDICINAL EFFECTS OF STORY TELLING.</h3> + + +<p>My aged father sickened about this time, and remained in a low condition +many months. I was at a distance so great, and in circumstances so +peculiar, that I could not see him often enough to become his medical +adviser. Besides, in my then unfledged condition as a disciple of Galen, +I should not have regarded myself competent to the discharge of so +weighty a responsibility, had I even been at home with him. The result +was that he employed his family physician as usual, and went through, as +might have been expected, with the whole paraphernalia of a dosing and +drugging campaign.</p> + +<p>Among other troubles, or rather to cap the climax of his troubles, he +was exceedingly low-spirited. Confined as he had been to the house +almost all winter, and seeing nobody to converse with,—no new faces, I +mean,—was it very strange that his mind turned, involuntarily, to his +complaints, and preyed upon itself, and that he was evidently +approaching the deep vortex of hypochondria? Medicine did him no good, +and could do him none. It is true he had, after three months, almost +left off its use; but the little to which he still clung was most +evidently a source of irritation.</p> + +<p>My own occasional visits, as I soon found out, did him more good than +any thing else. This gave me a needful hint. Near him was an old +Revolutionary soldier, full of mirthfulness, and a capital story teller. +Unknown to my father, and even to the family, I employed this old +soldier to visit my father a certain number of evenings in each week, +and tell stories to him.</p> + +<p>Sergeant K. complied faithfully with the terms of the contract, and was +at my father's house three evenings of each week for a long time. This +gave the old gentleman something else<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> to think of besides himself, and +it was easy to see, did him much good. During the progress of the fourth +month his improvement became quite perceptible; and in another month he +was nearly recovered.</p> + +<p>But, as I have repeatedly said of cold water, and indeed of all other +remedial efforts or applications, whether external or internal, and +whether moral, mental, or physical, too much credit should not be given, +at least hastily, to a single thing. The opening spring was in my +father's favor, as well as the story telling. The bow, so long retained +in an unnatural position, on having an opportunity, sprung back and +resumed its wonted condition. Still, I could never help awarding much +credit to the Revolutionary soldier.</p> + +<p>Most persons must have observed the effects which cheerfulness in a +medical man has on his patients. The good-natured, jolly doctor, who +tells a story now and then, and cracks a joke and has occasionally a +hearty laugh <i>with you</i>, or <i>at</i> you, about something or nothing, will +do you much more good, other things being equal, than the grave, staid, +sombre practitioner, who thinks it almost a sin to smile, especially at +the sick-bed or in the sick-room.</p> + +<p>I think story telling, as an art, should be cultivated, were it only for +its good effects in sickness. But this is not all. Its prophylactic or +preventive tendencies are much more valuable. Few people know how to +tell a story of any kind; while others, in some few remarkable +instances, such as I could name, will make a story of almost any thing, +and bring it to bear upon the precise point or end they wish to +accomplish. It is yet, in reality, a mooted point, which could make the +deepest, or at least most abiding, impression, Daniel Webster by a +Congressional oration, or Jacob Abbott by a simple story. If this is an +indirect or incautious confession of medical imperfection or impotence, +let me say as Patrick Henry once did, in Revolutionary days, "then make +the most of it."</p> + +<p>While on this topic of story telling, I must not forget to allude to its +moral effects. Lorenzo Dow, the eccentric preacher, is not the only +pulpit occupant who has acquired the art of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> "clinching the nail," in +his discourses by a well told story. It was quite a habit, in former +times, with certain preachers of certain denominations of Christians, +whose sermons were chiefly unwritten, to tell stories occasionally. And +I appeal to Father Waldo, late chaplain in the United States Senate, to +see whether the effects of these discourses were not as deep and as +lasting, to say the least, as many of our modern sermons, which, while +they smell much more of the lamp, fall almost lifeless upon the sleepy +ears of thousands of those whom Whitfield by his more practical course +would have converted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>OSSIFIED VEINS.</h3> + + +<p>While I was studying medicine with my new or second master, I had +several excellent opportunities for studying health and disease through +the medium of the doctor's patients.</p> + +<p>One of them was a swaggering man of wealth, about sixty-three years of +age. He had long lived very highly, had eaten a good deal of roast beef, +and drunk a good deal of wine, and had almost swum in cider. He was in +short, one of that class of men who "go off" in very many instances, at +the grand climacterical period, some of them very suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," said the general, exhibiting himself in full size and the +boldest relief, "I want to be bled."—"What do you want bleeding for?" +said the doctor. "Oh," said he, "bleed me, and you will see. You will +find my blood in a very bad state."—"Your blood, general, was always in +a very bad state," said the shrewd son of Galen, with a sardonic grin. +"None of your fun, doctor," was the prompt reply; "I must be bled. I +have headache and giddiness half the time, and must have some blood +taken."—"Very well," said Dr. S. "It shall be as you desire. Here, my +son, bring me a bowl."</p> + +<p>An older student assisted, while I, glad of the privilege, kept aloof, +and at a distance. The general's brawny arm was mauled a long time; and +even then not much blood was obtained. At last the attempt was given up, +and the man returned home, though not, as might have been expected, very +well satisfied.</p> + +<p>When he was gone, I inquired of Dr. S., as modestly as I could, what +serious difficulties he had to encounter in his attack on Gen. Upham's +arm. "Why was it," said I, "that you could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> get no more blood?" "For the +plainest reason in the world," he answered; "his veins were all +ossified."</p> + +<p>I was quite satisfied at the time, with this answer; for I knew so well +the habits of Gen. U. that I stood ready to believe almost any thing in +regard to him, especially when it came from a highly respectable source. +Yet I have often suspected since that time, that there was a serious +mistake made. Ossified or bony arteries, even at this great distance +from the heart, in such a man, ought not to excite surprise; but these +would hardly be met with in attempting to open a vein, since the +arteries are much more deeply imbedded in the flesh than the veins are. +And as for ossified veins themselves, especially in the arm, they are +seldom if ever heard of.</p> + +<p>You may wonder why I did not satisfy my curiosity at the time, by making +diligent inquiry at the proper source of information; and I almost +wonder too. But, in the first place, my curiosity did not rise so high +on any occasion whatever, as it has since done. For, though I was +hungering and thirsting for knowledge thirty years ago, my solicitude to +know has so increased with increasing years that my present curiosity +will admit of no comparison with the former. Secondly, I was exceedingly +diffident. Thirdly, my mind was just then fully occupied with other +things. And lastly, whenever I was in the company of Dr. S., both while +I remained in the office and subsequently, it was only for a very short +time, perhaps a single half hour, at best; and we had always so many +other things to talk about, that Gen. U. and his <i>ossified veins</i> never +entered our minds.</p> + +<p>However, it was not many years afterward that I heard of the old +general's death. Of the manner of his exit except that it was sudden, I +never heard a word, up to this hour. It is by no means improbable that +there was ossification about his heart, for he was a very fit subject +for ossification of any parts that could be ossified. I do not know, +indeed, that a post mortem examination was ever made; the family would +doubtless have opposed it. The uses of the dead to the living are in +general very little thought of.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Such cases of disease are, however, a terrible warning to those who are +following in the path of Gen. Upham. They may or may not come to just +such an end as he did, but of one thing we may be well assured; viz., +that the wicked do not live out half their days, or, in other words, +that sins against the body, even though committed in ignorance, can +never wholly escape the heaven-appointed penalty of transgression. "The +soul that sins must die." For no physical infraction of God's holy, +physical laws, do we know of any atonement. We may indeed, be thankful +if we find one in the moral world or anywhere else.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>HE'LL DIE IN THIRTY SIX HOURS.</h3> + + +<p>In the autumn of 1824, while a severe sickness was sweeping over one or +two towns adjacent to that in which I resided, and considerable +apprehension was felt lest the disease should reach us, the wife and +child of my medical teacher, and myself, suddenly sickened in a manner +not greatly dissimilar, and all of us suffered most severely.</p> + +<p>It was perfectly natural, in those circumstances, to suspect, as a cause +of our sickness, the prevailing epidemic. And yet the symptoms were so +unlike those of that disease, that all suspicions of this sort were soon +abandoned. Besides, no other persons but ourselves, for many miles +around, had any thing of the kind, either about that time or immediately +afterward. I have said that the symptoms of disease in all three of us +were not dissimilar. There was much congestion of the lungs and some +hemorrhage from their organs, and occasionally slight cough, and in the +end considerable tendency to inflammation of the brain. The last +symptom, however, may have been induced at least, in part, by the large +amount of active medicine we took.</p> + +<p>When the news of my own sickness reached my near relatives who resided +only a few miles distant, they were anxious to pay such attention to me +as the nature of the case appeared to require. But they soon tired; and +it was found needful to employ an aged and experienced nurse to take the +general charge, and under the direction of the physician, assume the +entire responsibility of the case.</p> + +<p>This nurse was one of those conceited people whose aid, after all, is +worth very little. He was as far from affording the kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> of assistance +I required as could possibly be. And yet his intentions were in the main +excellent.</p> + +<p>The selection of physician was equally unfortunate. My teacher had +nearly as much as he could do to take care of his wife and child. At his +request, and in accordance with the wishes of my friends, their and my +former physician were called in. When the danger became more imminent, a +third was occasionally consulted. It was supposed, no doubt, that in the +midst of counsellors there was safety.</p> + +<p>The counsels of our third man, or umpire, may have had influence; but +his manners were coarse, and in many respects objectionable. He was in +favor, also, of a highly stimulating treatment, which appeared to me to +add fuel to the flame, for I soon began to be at a loss when called upon +to recollect things and circumstances. He saw the tendency, and, partly +by way of "showing off" his powers of diagnosis, as well as in part to +gain applause should a case so desperate turn out favorably, said, in +the hearing of my nurse, "He'll die in just thirty-six hours."</p> + +<p>Now, whatever his intentions were, and however honest his declaration, +my nurse swallowed it at once, and was restless till he had an +opportunity to divulge what he regarded as an important secret. It is by +no means improbable that he entertained the usual impressions that a +special preparation should be made for death, and that it was needful I +should know my danger and attend to the subject before it was too late.</p> + +<p>In one of my most lucid intervals, therefore, he said to me, "Do you +expect to recover from your disease?"—"Most certainly I do," was the +reply. "Do you know what Dr. Thornton thinks about it?"—"Not certainly; +but from his cheerful manner, I suppose he thinks favorably."—"Do you +think you could bear to know the truth? For if it was unfavorable, would +it not be too much for you in your enfeebled condition?"</p> + +<p>My heart was in my mouth, as the saying is, at this broad hint; and with +a strong and earnest curiosity, I begged to know the worst, and to know +it immediately. My attendant saw, in my agitation, his error, and would +doubtless have receded had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> it been in his power; but it was too late; +the die was cast; my curiosity was all on tiptoe, and I trembled, as a +sailor would say, from stem to stern. "Well," said he, at length, +putting on a face which of itself was enough to destroy some very feeble +persons, "he says you cannot live more than thirty-six hours."</p> + +<p>My friend, in divulging what he deemed an important secret, doubtless +felt relieved; but not so with me. My philosophy had disappeared with +the progress of my disease, and I was now, in mind, a mere child. In +short, I was so much agitated by the unexpected intelligence, that I +sank at once under it, and remained in this condition for several hours. +When I awoke from this delirium, the symptoms of my disease were more +favorable, and from that day forth I began to recover.</p> + +<p>But the risk was too great for my enfeebled and diseased frame, and +should not have been incurred. Dr. Thornton, though a physician of much +reputation, was nevertheless a man of very little principle, and though +respected for his medical tact and skill, was beloved by very few. He +died, moreover, not many years afterward, as the fool dieth; viz., by +suicidal hands. Nor do I know that as a man—a mere citizen—he had many +mourners.</p> + +<p>The reader will pardon me, perhaps, for saying so many times, and with +so much emphasis, that "it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good." +But I must be allowed to repeat the saying here, and to observe that +while I entirely disapprove of the course my attendant took in the +present instance, I am by no means sure that the delirium into which I +was thrown by his tattling propensity was not safer for me than a +restless apprehension of danger would have been, especially when long +continued; nor that it did not contribute, indirectly, to bring about my +recovery.</p> + +<p>I was confined to the house by my sickness about five or six weeks, or +till it was midwinter. And yet, all covered as the earth was when I +first ventured forth, no Paradise could ever appear more beautiful to +any son or daughter of Adam than did this terrestrial abode to me. And +if ever I shed tears of devout gratitude to my Father in Heaven, it was +on this very occasion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a long time, however, after I got out of doors, before I was +strong enough, in body or mind, to attempt to perform much labor. At the +time of being taken sick, I was teaching a public school; and as soon as +I began to be convalescent my patrons began to be clamorous about the +school. They were hardly willing to wait till my physicians and myself +deemed it safe to make a beginning. Indeed, notwithstanding all my +caution, I was hurried into the pedagogic chair quite too soon.</p> + +<p>But it is time for me to inform my readers what were the probable causes +of my sickness; for I have already said, more than once, that to be able +to do this is a matter of very great importance, both as it concerns +ourselves and others; and it is a thing which can be done, at least to a +considerable extent, whenever parents and teachers shall be wise enough +to put their children and pupils upon the right track. I am well +acquainted with a minister of the gospel, now nearly sixty years of age, +who says he never had any thing ail him in his whole lifetime of which +he could not trace out the cause.</p> + +<p>For some months before my sickness I had been curtailing my hours of +sleep. I had resolved to retire at eleven and rise at four. But it had +often happened that instead of retiring at exactly eleven and rising +exactly at four, I had not gone to bed till nearly twelve, and had risen +as early as half-past three. So that instead of sleeping five full +hours, as had been my original intention, I had often slept but about +four.</p> + +<p>How far this abridgment of my sleep had fallen in with other causes of +debility, and thus prepared the way for severe, active disease, I cannot +say. I was at this time tasking my energies very severely, for I was not +only pursuing my professional studies with a good deal of earnestness, +but at the same time, as has been already intimated, teaching a large +and somewhat unmanageable district school. If ever a good supply of +sleep is needful, whatever the quantum required may really be, I am sure +it is in such circumstances.</p> + +<p>But then it should be remembered, in abatement of all this, that the +symptoms of disease, in all the three cases which I have alluded to, as +occurring in the family with which I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> connected, were very much +alike; whereas neither the mother nor the child had suffered, prior to +the sickness, for want of sleep. Must we not, therefore, look for some +other cause? Or if it is to be admitted that sleeplessness is +exceedingly debilitating in its tendencies, must there not have been in +addition some exciting cause still more striking? We will see.</p> + +<p>During the latter part of the autumn which preceded our sickness, the +water of the well from which we were drinking daily had a very +unpleasant odor, and a fellow student and myself often spoke of it. As +it appeared to give offence, however, we gradually left off our remarks +and complaints about the water, and only abstained, as much as we could +conveniently, from its use.</p> + +<p>In the progress of the autumn, the well became nearly dry, and the +offensive odor having become troublesome to others no less than to +ourselves, it was very wisely concluded to draw out the water to the +bottom, and thus find and remove the impurities. The task was +exceedingly trying, but was at length accomplished.</p> + +<p>Besides other impurities, there were found at the bottom of the well, +several toads in a state of putrefaction, and so very offensive that it +was difficult to approach them, or even to approach the top of the well +that contained them. They were of course removed as soon as possible, +and every practicable measure was adopted which was favorable to +cleanliness. This final clearing of the well was about two months before +the sickness commenced.</p> + +<p>Now whether there was a connection between the use of this water and the +sickness which followed, is a curious, and at the same time, a very +important question. Against this belief, at least apparently so, is the +fact that our disease resembled in no trifling degree, the prevailing +disease in certain neighboring towns. Another fact is also worthy of +consideration. The rest of the family drank freely of the water, why did +not they sicken as well as we?</p> + +<p>But as a deduction from the force of these facts, it is to be observed +that nobody else around us for several miles had the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> prevailing +epidemic unless it was ourselves. And then as to the objection that only +a part of the family sickened, it is to be recollected that in the case +of some of them who sickened there might have been, nay, probably were, +other debilitating causes in operation previously, to prepare the way; +such as, for example, in my own case, the want of sufficient sleep.</p> + +<p>Thus far, then, though we arrive at nothing positive, we yet find our +suspicions of a poisonous influence emanating from the putrid reptiles +remaining. Indeed, it were impossible wholly to suppress them, and I +will ask the candid reader's attention for a few moments to certain +analogical evidence in the case, which, it is believed, will greatly aid +the mind in coming to a right decision on the subject.</p> + +<p>An eruptive disease broke out in two families residing in a house in +Eastern Massachusetts, a few years ago, which was observed to affect +more or less, every member of the two families who had drunk water from +the common family well, except two; and these last had drank but very +little. On cleaning the well, the same species of reptiles which I have +already mentioned, were found in it, in a state of decomposition, and +highly offensive. No eruptive complaints of the same general kind +prevailed at the time in the neighborhood, and those which I have +mentioned disappeared soon after resuming the use of pure water.</p> + +<p>Another instance occurred in this same region, a few years afterward. In +the latter case, however, the putrid animals were rats and mice, and the +eruption, instead of having a diffused or miliary appearance, partook +largely of the character of the common boil.</p> + +<p>Forty years ago a sickness broke out in Litchfield county in +Connecticut, in a neighborhood where the wells were all very low; and +the water which remained being in a cavity of rock, and continuing +unchanged or nearly so, had at length become putrid. It was late in the +autumn when the disease broke out, and it disappeared as soon as the +wells were duly filled for the winter. It is true, I never heard in the +latter case, any thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> about putrid animals, but their existence and +presence under such circumstances, would be natural enough.</p> + +<p>It has, I know, been sometimes said that putrid animal substances, +however unpleasant their odor might be, were not poisonous. But this +opinion is doubtless unfounded; and, for myself, I find it difficult to +resist the belief that in all the foregoing cases, except the last, and +very possibly in that too, animal putridity had influence.</p> + +<p>The practical lessons to be derived from the developments of the +foregoing chapter are exceedingly numerous. I shall direct your +attention for a few moments, to some of the more important.</p> + +<p>First, we learn the necessity of keeping our wells in a proper +condition. Could it be even proved that dead reptiles never produce +disease, it is at least highly desirable to avoid them. No reasonable +person would be willing to drink water highly impregnated with their +odor, even if it did not reach his own seat of sensation.</p> + +<p>Secondly, we should avoid the use of stagnant water, even though it +should be free from animal impurities. Especially should we be cautious +where there is a liability, or even a possibility, to impurity and +stagnation both. Either of these causes may, as it is most fully +believed, produce disease; but if so, what is not to be expected from a +combination of the two?</p> + +<p>Our wells should be often cleaned. It is not possible, of course, to say +with exactness, how often, but we shall hardly err in the line of +excess. Very few wells are cleaned too often. Once a year, in ordinary +cases, cannot be too much; nor am I quite sure that twice would be +useless.</p> + +<p>It seems to me quite possible to exclude animals from our wells, would +we but take the necessary pains; and this, too, without covering them +closely at the top. I can not see how any toad, unless it be the +tree-toad so called, could climb a well-curb three feet high. Other +animals, however, might do so, and therefore I would keep a well as +closely covered as possible.</p> + +<p>Many, I know, believe it desirable that the surface of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> water in a +well should be exposed to the air. I do not believe there is any +necessity for this, though it is certainly desirable to avoid stagnation +of the air at the bottom. Motion is essential, I might even say +indispensable. I have sometimes thought the modern endless or chain pump +as perfect a fixture as any other.</p> + +<p>Thirdly, we may learn from the details of the foregoing chapter, the +necessity of having in our sick-chambers the right sort of nurses or +attendants. There should be a class of persons educated to this service, +as a profession; and most happily for the prospects of the great human +family, such efforts are now being made; it is hoped and believed they +will be crowned with success.</p> + +<p>One thing more may, as I think, be inferred from the story of my +sickness as above:—the folly of multiplying physicians. In the present +case, when the physician's own family was in a condition to demand a +large share of his attention, if not to absorb all his energies, it may +have been desirable to call in an additional medical man as counsellor. +But the multiplication of counsel, besides adding to the danger of too +much dosing and drugging, brings with it a host of ills too numerous to +be mentioned in this place, and should be studiously avoided. My full +belief is, that Dr. Thornton was a principal agent in creating the +dangers he deprecated, and which came so near effecting my own +destruction.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>ABOUT TO DIE OF CONSUMPTION.</h3> + + +<p>I have already mentioned more than once,—or at least done so by +implication,—that I hold my existence, on this earth by a very feeble +tenure. Consumption, by right of inheritance, made very early claims; +and its demands, as I approached manhood, became more and more cogent, +in consequence of measles, dropsy, Lee's Pills, and the injudicious use +of medicine and many other errors. My employment, too, as school teacher +had been far enough from favorable to health. While thus engaged from +winter to winter, and sometimes from year to year; I was accustomed to +have cold upon cold, till at length especially towards the close of +winter and at the opening of the spring, I was often apparently on the +verge of a rapid decline. A ramble up and down the country, with a +summer or part of a summer on the farm or garden, did indeed for a time +partially set me up again, so that I could return to my favorite +employment of teaching in the autumn and during the winter; and thus +time with me went on.</p> + +<p>A course of medical lectures which I heard in 1825-6, left me, in March, +1826, in about as bad a state of health as school keeping usually had +done. However I was too indigent, I might even say too destitute, to be +idle. Scarcely was my license to practise medicine and surgery fairly in +my pocket, than I found myself turning towards the district school +again. Yet I did not continue it many weeks before my old enemy returned +upon me with renewed strength; till I was at length compelled to abandon +the school entirely. I had as much as I could do, in attempting to keep +up a successful war with cough, night-sweats, purulent expectoration, +and hectic fever.</p> + +<p>This was one of the darkest periods of my life. Destitute of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> money, and +even somewhat in debt, yet too proud or self-relying to be willing to +ask my friends to aid me; my hopes of usefulness defeated in two +favorite fields of activity, teaching and medicine; and practically +given up to linger out a year or two and then die, how could I avoid +discouragement? Was it strange even, if I approached at times, the very +borders of despair?</p> + +<p>For some time prior to this crisis—indeed at certain seasons all my +life long,—I relied not a little on medicine, in various forms, +especially in the shape of tonics. Strange that I should have done thus, +when my general impressions were so unfavorable to its exhibition; and +yet such inconsistencies have been, and may be again. Huxham's tincture, +quassia, ale, and other bitter infusions and tinctures, had been +successively invoked, and I still clung to ale. I also used some wine, +and I attached a good deal of importance to a stimulating diet. But it +was all to no purpose, the disease was marching on steadily, and +appeared destined to triumph; and that, too, at no very distant period.</p> + +<p>In these circumstances, I repeat, what could be done? Nature's extremity +is sometimes said to be God's opportunity. But without assuming that +there was any special providence about it, I will say, that I was driven +to desperation, nay almost to insanity or madness. I deemed myself on +the very verge of a mighty precipice, beneath which yawned a gulf +unfathomable. I must make a last mighty struggle, or perish +irretrievably and forever.</p> + +<p>It was July 4th, the anniversary of American Independence; I sought and +found a few moments of calm reflection, and began to interrogate myself. +Why was I so dependent on the physician and the apothecary's shop, and +so tremblingly alive to every external impression of atmospheric +temperature, or purity? Why must I, at the early age of twenty-eight, be +doomed to tread the long road of decline and death? Why can I not +declare independence of all external remedial agents, and throw myself +wholly on nature and nature's God? I know, full well, the laws of my +being. If trust in these, and faithful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> and persevering obedience will +not save me, nothing will. Thus I mused; but alas! it was to muse only. +Though almost ready to take the critical step,—I will not say make the +desperate plunge,—the fourth of July finally passed away, and found me +still lingering, to use a Scripture expression, "between the porch and +the altar."</p> + +<p>July the fifth at length arrived. And is it all over? I said to myself. +Has the "glorious" <i>Fourth</i> gone by and I have not acted up to the +dignity of a well-formed and glorious resolution? Must I, alas! now go +on to woe irretrievable? Must I go down to the consumptive's grave? Must +I perish at less than thirty years of age, and thus make good the +declaration that the wicked shall not live out half his days?</p> + +<p>A new thought came to me. "One of the South American provinces +celebrated her Independence to day, the fifth. I will take the hint,—I +will yet be free. I will escape from present circumstances. I will fly +from my native home, and all that pertains to it. I will fly from +myself,—It is done," I added, "and I go with the first conveyance."</p> + +<p>I could indeed walk a little distance, but it either set me to coughing, +severely, or else threw me into a profuse perspiration which was equally +exhausting. One favorable symptom alone remained, a good appetite and +tolerable digestion. Had there been, in addition to the long train of +troublesome and dangerous symptoms above mentioned, a loss of digestive +power and energy, with colliquative diarrhœa, my hopes must have been +forever abandoned.</p> + +<p>But I had made my resolution, and was prepared to execute it, let the +consequences be what they might. With little more than a single change +of clothing, I contrived to find a conveyance before night, quite beyond +my immediate neighborhood. Fatigued, at length I stopped, and without +much delay, committed myself to the friendship of Morpheus.</p> + +<p>On the top of a considerable eminence, in the very midst of a mountain +range, one of the most delightful in all New England, only a few miles +from the place of my lodging, was a tower some sixty or seventy feet +high, which commanded a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> view of the surrounding country. I had often +wished to enjoy the prospect which this tower afforded. Was there, now +an opportunity? I had the leisure, had I the needful strength? Could I +possibly reach it? And by what means?</p> + +<p>I rested for the remainder of the day and the night following, at the +foot of the eminence, in order to prepare myself for the excursion of +the following morning. It was as much as I could do, that night to take +care of my irritable and irritated lungs. At length, however, I slept, +and was refreshed. The only drawback upon my full renewal, was my usual +night—or rather as I ought to say morning—perspiration, which was +quite drenching and exhausting; though not much worse after all my fears +than usual.</p> + +<p>God is good, I said to myself, when I saw from my chamber window the top +of the hills I wished to climb, and perceived that the first rays of the +morning sun were already falling upon them. By the middle of the +forenoon I was at the foot of the mountain, and prepared to ascend it. +After a little rest, I wound my way to the tower, and finally to its +top, when I took a survey of what seemed to me like a new world. Here I +renewed my declaration of independence with regard to those earthly +props on which I had so long been wont to lean, and of dependence on +God, and on his natural and moral enactments.</p> + +<p>Here, too, I formed my programme for the day and for the week. Distant +from the point which I occupied not more than eight miles was a most +interesting educational institution I had long wished to see; and near +it was an old acquaintance, with, whom I might perhaps spend the +Sabbath, which was now approaching. Could I carry out my plan? Had I the +needful strength?</p> + +<p>My resolution was at length made; and no sooner made than begun to be +executed. The public houses on the way were miserable things; but they +were better far than none.</p> + +<p>They gave me a temporary home, such as it was. I reached the +institution, had a partial view of it, and, half worn out with my week's +labor, was glad to rest the seventh day, "according<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> to the +commandment," in the house of an old acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Monday morning came, and with the aid of the intervening Sabbath, +brought to my attenuated and almost sinking frame a new recruit of +strength. With a new object of interest some fifteen miles distant, I +was once more on the road. I could now walk several miles a day without +greatly increasing my cough, or ride in a stage coach many miles. Nor +was the nightly perspiration, nor even that which was induced by +exercise, any more distressing than it had been, if indeed it was as +much so.</p> + +<p>In due time I reached my point of destination, and curiosity became +fully gratified. What next? A few miles distant was a high mountain +which I greatly desired to climb. I reached its base; but the heat was +great, so dog-days like, that my courage failed me. I had the necessary +strength, but dared not use it for such a purpose. Perhaps I acted +wisely.</p> + +<p>Twelve miles in the distance still was my father's house, now grown from +a few patrimonial acres to full New England size; viz., a hundred acres +or more, and well cultivated. My wandering abroad had given me a little +strength and very much courage. Why should it not? Was it not truly +encouraging that while I was making a long excursion, chiefly on foot, +in the heats of midsummer, my cough and hectic and night sweats should +become no worse, while my muscular strength had very much increased?</p> + +<p>My mind's eye turned towards my father's house as a place of refuge. In +a day or two I was in it; and in another day or two I was caparisoned as +a laborer, and in the field. It is true that I did not at first +accomplish a great deal; but I held the implements of husbandry in my +hands, and spent a certain number of hours every day in attempting to +work. Some of the workmen laughed about me, and spoke of the vast +benefits to be derived from having a ghost in the field with them; but I +held on in spite of their jokes. I had been accustomed of old to the +labor of a farm, which greatly facilitated my efforts. Habit is +powerful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not many weeks passed ere I was able to perform half a day's work or +more in a day. My consumptive tendencies, moreover, were far less +exhausting and trying. In a word, I was better. The Rubicon was already +passed. I did not, indeed, expect to get entirely well, for this would +have been a hope too big for me. But I should not die, I thought, +immediately. Drowning men, as you know, catch at straws; and this is a +wise arrangement, for otherwise they would not often be saved by planks.</p> + +<p>One point, at least, I had gained. I was emancipated from slavery to +external forms, especially medicated forms. But I had not only declared +and found myself able to maintain independence of medicine, but I had +acquired much confidence in nature and nature's laws. And this faith in +the recuperative powers of nature was worth more to me than worlds would +have been without it.</p> + +<p>Much was said, in those days, not only in books but by certain learned +professors, about shaking off pulmonary consumption on horseback. +Whether, indeed, this had often been done—for it is not easy, in the +case of a joint application of various restorative agencies, such as +air, light, full mental occupation etc., to give to each agency its just +due—I am not quite prepared to say. But as soon as I was able to ride +on horseback several miles a day, the question was agitated whether it +was or was not advisable.</p> + +<p>In prosecuting this inquiry, another question came up. How would it do, +thought I, to commence at once the practice of medicine? But +difficulties almost innumerable—some of them apparently +insurmountable—lay in my way. Among the rest, I had no confidence in my +medical knowledge or tact; I was a better school-master. But teaching, +as I had every reason to fear, would bring me down again, and I could +not think of that: whereas the practice of medicine, on horseback, which +at that time and in that region was not wholly out of date, might, as I +thought, prove quite congenial.</p> + +<p>Besides being "fearful and unbelieving" in the matter, I was still in +the depths of poverty. I had not even five dollars.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> In fact, during my +excursion already described, I had lived on a few ounces of solid food +and a little milk or ale each day, in order to eke out my almost +exhausted finances; though, by the way, I do not know but I owed my +partial final recovery in no small degree to this very starvation +system. However, to become a practising physician, money would be +indispensable, more or less. What could be done without it? My father +had credit, and could raise money for me; but <i>would</i> he? He had never +wholly approved of my medical tendencies and course; and would it be +right to ask him to aid me in an undertaking which he could not +conscientiously approve?</p> + +<p>Just at this time our own family physician wanted to sell, and offered +me his stand. His practice, he said, was worth a thousand dollars a +year. He had an old dilapidated house and a couple of acres of miserable +land, and a horse. These, he said, he would sell to me for so much. I +might ride with him as a kind of apprentice or journeyman for six +months, at the expiration of which time he would vacate the field +wholly.</p> + +<p>The house, land, and horse were worth perhaps one-third the sum +demanded, but probably not more. However, the price with me, made very +little difference. One sum was much the same with another. For I was so +anxious to live, that I was willing to pay almost any price which might +be required by a reasonable man, and till that time, it had not entered +my heart that a good man would take any serious advantage of a fellow +being in circumstances so desperate. And then I was not only anxious to +live, but very confident I should live. So strong was my determination +to live on, and so confident was I in the belief that I should do so, +that I was willing to incur a debt, which at any other period of my life +would have discouraged me.</p> + +<p>There was another thing that tended to revive me and restore my courage. +The more I thought of commencing business, and talked about living, the +more I found my strength increasing. That talking about dying had a +downward or down-hill tendency, I had long known; but that the tendency +of talking up-hill was exactly the reverse, I had not fully and clearly +understood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>My father tried to dissuade me from a hasty decision, but it was to no +purpose. To me, it seemed that the course I had proposed was my only +alternative. "I must do it," I said to myself, "or die;" and life to me, +as well as to others, was sweet. But although it was a course to which I +seemed shut up, and which I must pursue or die, it was a step which I +could not take unaided. I had not the pecuniary ability to purchase so +much as a horse, or, had I needed one, hardly a good dog.</p> + +<p>It was at length proposed by my medical friend, the seller, to accept of +a long credit for the amount due for the place and appurtenances, +provided, however, I would get my father or some other good man to be my +endorser. But here was a difficulty almost or quite insurmountable. My +father had always said he would endorse for nobody. And as for asking +any one else to endorse for me, I dared not.</p> + +<p>But I cannot dwell at this point. My father at length became my +endorser, and the bargain was signed and sealed. It was indeed, a +desperate effort, and I have a thousand times wondered how I could have +ventured. Why! only one or two years before, I was miserable for several +days because I was in debt to the extent of only two dollars for a +much-needed article, and actually procured the money with considerable +difficulty, and went and paid the debt to get rid of my anguish; whereas +now, without much pain and without being worth fifty dollars in the +world, I could be willing to contract a debt of from twelve to fifteen +hundred dollars, and involve my good old father in the consequences +besides. How entirely unaccountable!</p> + +<p>But mankind love life, and fear death. The scheme proposed was, as I +believed, not only a dernier but a needful resort. It was a wrong step +no doubt, but I did not then think so. I believed the end "sanctified" +or at least sanctioned the means. How could I have done so? "What +ardently we wish, we soon believe." I had most ardently wished, I now +began to believe!</p> + +<p>My consumptive tendencies now receded apace, even before I was astride +of my horse. The stimulus of the hope of life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> with a forgetfulness of +myself, were better tonics than Huxham or ale or rich food. There was +the expectation of living, and consequently the beginning of life. Mind +has great power over even inert matter; how much more over the living +animated machine!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>MY JOURNEYMANSHIP IN MEDICINE.</h3> + + +<p>Journeymen in medicine, though without the full responsibilities of the +profession, have yet their difficulties. I had mine; and I had not only +the ordinary complement of ordinary men, but some which were a little +extra.</p> + +<p>For example, I was no horseman at all, and people around me knew it. At +the first attempt to mount a new horse, and ride out with the old +physician, of whom I had purchased my stand, to see his patients, I made +an exhibition of my horsemanship which I shall not soon forget, and +which I am sure certain wags and half-buffoons and common loungers who +witnessed the scene <i>never</i> will.</p> + +<p>My horse stood at the post all caparisoned, while I made ready. In +setting off, I knew well I must submit to the ordeal of being gazed at +and commented on by a crowd assembled in an adjoining store. It was a +rainy day, and the crowd would doubtless be much larger than usual. Now +my love of approbation was excessive; so great as at times to defeat +entirely its object. So in truth, it proved on the present occasion.</p> + +<p>When I was ready to go forth on my journey, I mounted my horse and +attempted to place my right foot in the stirrup. At this critical +instant the gaping multitude in the grocery, presented themselves in +quite a formidable column at the door to see the young doctor on his new +horse. Their appearance threw my mind off its balance to an extent that +prevented me from well-balancing my body, and with every possible +exertion I could not get my feet firmly fixed in the stirrups. To add to +my trouble, my horse was in haste and trotted off high and hard before I +could muster presence of mind enough to check him. I rolled this way and +that, till at length, down I came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> headlong. My hat went one way, and my +whip another. A great shout was at once raised by the spectators, but +being cured by this time, of my excessive diffidence, and not at all +hurt, I could soon join in the laugh with the rest. I could most +heartily adopt my old maxim, "It is an ill wind that blows nobody any +good;" and I had learned by my fall at least, one thing, at least for +the moment; viz., my excessive regard to human approbation. +Thenceforward, I rode as I pleased.</p> + +<p>But before I enter upon the details and particular confessions of my +professional career, it is needful that I should say something of those +changes which were made about this time in my physical habits, by means +of which I gained at least a temporary victory over my great enemy, the +consumption. For it must not be supposed that because I could sit on a +horse and ride six, eight, ten, or twelve miles a day, or work in the +field or garden half the day, I was out of danger. I had, indeed, gained +important victories, but there remained very much land yet to be +possessed.</p> + +<p>Of my abandonment of all medicine, I have already told you. But I had +also greatly changed my dietetic habits. During my excursion of the +fifth of July, and subsequently, I had lived almost wholly on what might +have been denominated the starvation system. The case was this: I +started with less than five dollars in my pocket, and with too much +pride to borrow more. That my money might hold out, therefore, though I +took care to secure a good, clean bed by nights, even at the full market +price (except when I was entertained occasionally, by particular +friends), I almost went without food. Many a time was I satisfied, +because I was determined to have it so, with a tumbler of milk and a +couple of crackers for my breakfast, or even my dinner; and as for +supper, I often dispensed with it wholly; and all this too, strange +though it may seem, not only without the loss of strength, but with a +slow, yet steady, increase.</p> + +<p>These dietetic changes, though they were a necessity, were continued and +extended from principle. I had known, for a long time, what the laws of +digestion, respiration, circulation, cleanliness, exercise, etc., were, +but had not fully obeyed them. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> I now set myself obeying them up to +the full extent of my knowledge. I do not mean to affirm that my +obedience was perfect and entire—wanting in nothing; but only that I +made an attempt at sinless perfection. However, I speak here, of course, +of the physical code; for to moral obligation, at that time, I do not +mean, now, to refer.</p> + +<p>My diet was exceedingly plain and comparatively unstimulating. It +consisted chiefly of bread, fruits, potatoes; and, once a day of salted +meats. These last should have been exchanged for those which were not +pickled, and which are of course less stimulating; but at that time I +was not fully aware of their tone and tendency. My drink was water and a +little tea; for cider I had long before abandoned.</p> + +<p>I paid particular attention to purity of air, and to temperance. +Fortunately I resided in a house which from age and decrepitude, pretty +effectually ventilated itself. But temperature, as I well knew, must be +carefully attended to, particularly by consumptive people. While they +avoid permanent chilliness, and even at times, the inhalation of very +cold air on the one hand, it is quite indispensable that they should +breathe habitually as cool an air as possible, and yet not be +permanently chilly. This, by means of a proper dress, by night and by +day, and proper fixtures for heating my room, I contrived to secure.</p> + +<p>Cleanliness, too, by dint of frequent bathing, received its full share +of my attention. It was a rule from which I seldom if ever departed, to +wet my body daily with cold water, and follow it up by friction. At home +or abroad, wherever I could get a bowl of water I would have a hand +bath.</p> + +<p>Need I say here that a medical man—one who rode daily on +horseback—paid a proper regard to the laws of exercise? And yet I am +well persuaded that not a few medical men exercise far too little. +Riding on horseback, though it may sometimes shake off consumption, is +not so good an exercise for the mass of mankind—perhaps not even for +consumptive people themselves—as an alternation of walking with the +riding. This, also, I took good care to secure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>Physicians are usually either very greatly addicted to the habit of +dosing and drugging for every little ill, real or imaginary, or +particularly hostile to it. I have seldom found any such thing as a +golden mean in this respect, among them. My feelings, saying nothing at +present of the sober convictions of my head, led me almost to the +extreme of no medicine, if extreme it can be called. I did not even +retain my daily tumbler of ale.</p> + +<p>Though I began my medical career as an apprentice or journeyman, merely, +and went abroad chiefly as the associate of my predecessor, I was soon +called upon in his absence, and in other circumstances, to take the +whole charge of patients; or at least to do so till a longer experience +was available. Thus I was gradually inducted into an important office, +without incurring a full and proportionate share of its +responsibilities.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>MY TEMPERANCE PLEDGE.</h3> + + +<p>The subject of Temperance, in its present associated forms, had, at this +time, just began to be agitated. At least, it had just begun to receive +attention in the newspapers which I was accustomed to see. It could not +be otherwise than that I should be deeply interested in its discussion.</p> + +<p>I had been brought up, as I have before intimated, to a pretty free use +of cider and tea; but not of ardent spirits or coffee. Neither of these +was regularly used in my father's family; though both occasionally were. +But I had abandoned cider long before this time, because I found it had +a tendency to produce, or at least to aggravate, those eruptive diseases +to which I was greatly liable. Temperance, then, in the popular sense of +the term, was, to me, an easy virtue.</p> + +<p>And yet as a temperance man—in the circle of my acquaintance—I stood +nearly alone. No individual around me was ready to take the ground I +occupied. Of this, however, I was not fully apprised, till a patient +attempt to recruit the temperance ranks convinced me of the fact. But I +will give you a full account of my enterprise, since it has a bearing on +my subsequent history and confessions.</p> + +<p>With the aid of a Boston paper which I habitually read, I drew up the +customary preamble, declaration, and pledge of a temperance society. It +involved the great idea of total abstinence from spirituous liquors; +though by the term spirituous liquors, as used at that day, was meant +chiefly <i>distilled</i> spirits. Having first affixed my own name to the +paper I went to the most influential of my patrons and friends and asked +them to sign it likewise. But, reader,—will you believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> it?—not a +single subscriber could I obtain far, or near. They all, with one +consent, made excuse.</p> + +<p>The elder deacon of the most evangelical church in the place where I +resided, had for his apology that he suffered seriously from a complaint +for which his physicians had prescribed the daily use of gin, "Now," +said he, "though there is nothing in the pledge which goes to prohibit +the use of spirits in a case like my own, yet as some might think +otherwise and charge me with inconsistency, I must on the whole be +excused from signing it."</p> + +<p>His son, who was also a deacon in the same church with the father, +excused himself by saying he was young, and without influence, and it +would be far better for the old people to put their names down first. +"Perhaps," said he, "I may conclude to sign the paper by-and-by. I will +consider well the matter, and if I conclude to sign it, I will let you +know."</p> + +<p>Other leading men in the church as well as in the town affairs, refused +to sign the pledge, because Deacon H. and son would not. It belonged to +the deacons in the church, they said, to take the lead in all good +things, and not to them. When <i>they</i> had put <i>their</i> names to the +document, others would not long hesitate to follow.</p> + +<p>In short nobody would consent to sign the paper, and it remains to this +day, just as it was when I drew it up; and it is now more than thirty +years old. There it is, with my name attached to it, as large as life. I +have been President, Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, and "all +hands too," of my would-be Temperance Society, from that day to this. I +doubt whether many societies can be found which in thirty years have +made so little change as the one under consideration.</p> + +<p>For about four years from the time of getting up the above-named +temperance society, strange as the assertion may seem, I retained the +right to use a little beer and a good deal of coffee. But in May, 1830, +I abandoned all drinks but water, to which custom I have ever since +adhered and in which I shall probably die.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>TRIALS OF A YOUNG PHYSICIAN.</h3> + + +<p>The poet Cowper, in his delineations of a candidate for the pulpit, +prescribes, as one needful condition or qualification,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That he is honest in the sacred cause."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So, when I entered upon the medical profession, which I regarded as next +of kin to sacred, I deemed honesty quite a high recommendation; and +whatever in the abstract appeared to me to be right, I endeavored to +pursue through the routine of every-day life. Alas, that I should ever +have had occasion to doubt the policy of common honesty!</p> + +<p>I was called to see Mrs. ——. The case was an urgent one. There was no +time for deliberation or consultation. I understood her case but very +poorly; yet I knew that in order to success I must at least <i>seem</i> to be +wise. Besides, what was to be done must be done quickly; so I boldly +prescribed. My prescription was entirely successful, and I left the +house with flying colors. I left, moreover, with the full consciousness +of having acted in the main like an honest man.</p> + +<p>A few days afterward I was sent for by Mrs. ——, who immediately filled +my ears with the most piteous complaints, the sum total of which was +that she was exceedingly <i>nervous</i>, and I told her so. Of course I did +not complain of culpability or crime. But I told her, very plainly, that +she needed no medicine—nothing but plenty of air and exercise, and less +high-seasoned food. My great frankness gave offence, and impaired my +reputation. She employed, in my stead, Dr. Robinson, who continued to +attend her till his bill amounted to a sum sufficient to buy a good +carriage and harness, and till his credit for skill was advanced in a +degree corresponding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. B.'s child was sick, and his wife besides. He came for my +predecessor; but, not finding him at home,—though he still remained in +the place,—he was compelled to Hobson's choice—myself or nobody; Dr. +Robinson lived at too great a distance. I was accordingly employed, and +was soon on the spot. The child was very sick; and for some little time +after my arrival I was so much occupied in the performance of my duties +that I paid no attention to any thing else. But having prescribed for +both my patients, I sat down quietly to look over the newspaper.</p> + +<p>Presently I heard from Mrs. B. a deep groan. I was immediately at her +bedside, anxious to know the cause. "Oh, nothing at all," she said, +"except a momentary feeling of disappointment because Dr. —— did not +come." I said to her, "You can send for him now, madam, as soon as he +returns. Do not think yourselves compelled to adhere to me, simply +because you have been obliged to call me once. I will yield most +cheerfully to the individual of your preference."</p> + +<p>Mrs. B. apologized. She knew I had done as well as I could, she said; +and perhaps no one could have done better. "But little Leonora," said +she, "is dreadfully sick; and I do very much want to see Dr. B. He has +had more experience than you. These young doctors, just from the +schools, what can they know, the best of them?"</p> + +<p>I saw her difficulties; but, as I have already intimated, I did not look +so wise as Dr. B., nor had I so grave a face, nor so large an abdomen. I +could neither tell so good a story, nor laugh so heartily; I could not +even descend to that petty talk which is so often greatly preferred to +silence or newspaper reading, not only by such individuals as Mrs. B. +and her friends, but by most families. A physician must be a man of +sympathy. He need not, however, descend to so low a level as that of +dishonesty; but he must come down to the level of his people in regard +to manners and conversation. He must converse with them in their own +language. He must not only <i>seem</i> to be devoted, unreservedly, to their +interests, but must actually <i>be</i> so. This confession is most cheerfully +and sincerely and honestly made; and may he who reads it understand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>On a certain occasion I was called to prescribe in a family where the +disappointment was so great that the patient was actually made worse by +my presence, and an unfavorable turn given to the disease. It may be +said that people ought not to yield themselves up to the influence of +such feelings; and it is certainly true that they ought not. But sick +people are not always rational, nor even judicious. Dr. Johnson says: +"Every sick man is a rascal;" but we need not go quite so far as that. +Sickness changes us, morally, sometimes for the better, but much oftener +for the worse; and in general it makes us much less reasonable.</p> + +<p>But it is far enough from being my intention to present a full account +of the trials incident to the life of a young medical man; for, in order +to do this, I should be obliged to carry you with me, at least mentally, +to places which you would not greatly desire to visit. Physicians can +seldom choose their patients; they are compelled to take them as they +find them. They will sometimes be called to the vilest of the vile and +the filthiest of the filthy.</p> + +<p>Their office is indeed a noble one; but is noblest of all when performed +honestly, in the fear of God, with a view to do good, and not merely to +please mankind and gratify their own ambition. Above all, they should +not practise medicine for the mere love of money. A physician should +have a heart overflowing with benevolence, and should feel it incumbent +upon him, at every step in his professional life, not only to do good to +his patients, but to all around him. He should be a guide to mankind, +physically, for moral ends. He should let his light so shine, that they, +seeing his good works, may be led to glorify the Father who is in +heaven. His object should be to spread, by the good he performs, the +everlasting gospel, just as truly as this should be the object of him +who ministers in holy things at the altar. Such a physician, however, at +first, I was not. Such, however, I soon aspired to be; such, as I trust, +I at length became. Of this, however, the reader will judge for himself, +by-and-by. "By their fruits ye shall know them."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>A DOSING AND DRUGGING FAMILY.</h3> + + +<p>For several months of the first year of my medical life, I was a boarder +in a family, all of whom were sickly. Some of the number were even +continually or almost continually under the influence of medicine, if +not of physicians. Here my trials were various, and some of them severe.</p> + +<p>But I must give you a particular description of this family; for I have +many things to say concerning it, some of which may prove instructive.</p> + +<p>Mr. L. had been brought up a farmer; but being possessed of a delicate +constitution, had been subsequently converted into a country +shop-keeper,—a dealer, I mean, in dry goods and groceries. As is usual +in such cases, he was in the habit of keeping a small assortment of +drugs and medicines. The circumstance of having medicine always at hand, +and often <i>in</i> hand, had led him, as it has thousands of others, into +temptation, till he had formed and confirmed the habit of frequent +dosing and drugging his frail system. But as usually happens in such +cases, the more medicine he took, the more he seemed to require, and +consequently the more he swallowed. One thing prepared the way for +another.</p> + +<p>With Mrs. L. matters were still worse. In the vain belief that without a +course of medication, <i>she could never have any constitution</i>, as she +was wont to express it, her mother had begun to dose and drug her as +early as at the age of twelve or fourteen years. And what had been thus +early begun, had been continued till she was twenty-four, when she +married Mr. L. But she was feebler, if possible, at twenty-four, than at +fourteen, and believed herself under the necessity of taking medicine in +order to be able to sit up a part of the day and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> perform a little +light, but needful, family labor, such as sewing, mending, etc.</p> + +<p>When I first had a seat at their family table, it was by no means +uncommon for Mr. and Mrs. L. to begin their meal, as soon as "grace" was +over, with Stoughton's bitters, or some other supposed cordial, or +strengthener of the appetite. As I not only refused to join them, but +occasionally spoke a kind word against the custom into which they had +fallen, the bitters at length fell into disuse; and it was found that +their meals could be digested as well without the stimulus, as with its +aid.</p> + +<p>But I was much less successful in preventing the torrent of medicine +from producing its wonted —— upon this family, at other times and +seasons; for which Mr. L.'s business furnished such facilities. But you +must not think of Mrs. L. as a mere tyro in this business of compounding +medicine, nor in that of administering it, especially to herself. From +the apothecary's shop of her husband, as well as from other sources, she +selected one thing after another, not merely for the time, but for +permanent purposes, till it was almost difficult to say which had the +best assortment, she or her husband. And she not only had it on hand, +but she took it, as freely, almost so, as her food and drink.</p> + +<p>More than even this should be affirmed. Had she at any time flagged in +this work of self-destruction, she would have been brought up again to +the line by her mother. For though the latter resided at a considerable +distance, she paid Mrs. L. an occasional visit, and sometimes remained +in the family several weeks. Whenever she did so, little was heard of in +the usual hours of conversation,—especially at the table,—but Sarah's +stomach, Sarah's nerves, and what was good for Sarah. It was enough to +make one <i>sick at the stomach</i>, to witness the conversation even for a +single day; and above all to be compelled to join in it.</p> + +<p>She was there once, in the early spring, and remained until the ground +was fairly settled. No sooner could she get into the woods, and come to +the naked surface of the earth, than the whole country around was laid +under tribute to furnish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> roots "good for the blood." These were put +into a beer to be prepared for Sarah. It was supposed by many,—and by +this wondrous wise old lady, among the rest,—that the efficacy of these +medicinal beers in cleansing the blood, must ever be in due proportion +to the number of their respective ingredients. Thus, if twenty articles, +"good for the blood," could be procured and boiled in the wort, the +result would be a compound which would be worth twenty times as much, or +at least be <i>many</i> times as useful, in accomplishing its supposed +specific purpose, as if only one kind of root had been obtained.</p> + +<p>It was a long time before I could break in upon this tissue of error, to +any practical purpose. For so deeply imbedded in the human brain is the +idea of purifying the blood by some such unnatural means, that one might +almost as well think of building a railroad to the moon, as of +overcoming it. They never thought—perhaps never knew—that the blood of +the human body of to-day, will be little more the blood of the body +to-morrow, than the river which flows by our door to-day will be the +river of to-morrow; and that the one can no more be purified +independently of any and all things else, than the other.</p> + +<p>But it is said to be a long road which never turns. Some good +impressions had been made on this family, as we shall see hereafter. +Not, indeed, until there had been much unnecessary suffering, and many +an unwilling penalty paid for transgression, as well as much money +uselessly expended for physicians and medicine. For though I was +somewhat a favorite in the family, I was as yet young and inexperienced, +and many a wiser head than mine was from time to time invoked, and much +time and money lost in other ways, that might have been saved for better +and nobler purposes.</p> + +<p>Among the items of loss, as well as of penalty, was that of offspring. +These were generally still-born. One, indeed, lived about two weeks and +then perished. The parents seemed to be written childless. Or rather, +they seemed to have written themselves so. They seemed destined +moreover, to follow their premature children, at no great distance, to +an untimely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> grave. For nothing was more obvious—I mean to the medical +observer—than at an age when everybody ought to be gaining in bodily no +less than in mental and moral vigor, they were both of them growing +feeble as well as irresolute.</p> + +<p>As a boarder, I left the family some time afterward, though I did not +lose sight of it wholly; nor did they entirely forget or disregard the +numerous hints I had given them. They made some progress every year. At +length, however, I lost sight of them entirely, and only kept up a faint +recollection of them by means of an occasional word of intelligence from +the place where they resided, showing that they were still alive.</p> + +<p>One day, after the lapse of about eight years, as I was passing through +a charming New England village, the stage-coach stopped to let the +passengers dine, when, to my great surprise, on stepping out of the +coach, whom should I see but my old friend Mr. L.? He was equally +surprised, and perhaps equally rejoiced, to see me. The interview was +utterly unexpected to us both.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" said he, grasping my hand. I returned the compliment by +inquiring after his own health and that of Mrs. L. It turned out that he +had failed in his business a few months before, and that, as a +consequence, he had been compelled to remove to the place where he now +was, and engage in an employment which brought his skin into contact +with the air, and his muscles into prolonged and healthful activity. It +appeared also that both he and his family had long since banished the +use of medicine. "And now," said he, "thank God I know what it is, once +more, to enjoy health; I can not only eat, but work."</p> + +<p>It was Monday, the great <i>washing-day</i> of Yankee house-keepers; and +while we were talking together with so much earnestness, that, like +Milton's first pair in innocence, we "forgot all time," a female +approached, with her sleeves rolled up, greeted me with much cordiality +and seized me by the hand. "Can this be Mrs. L.?" I asked. How changed! +She was, it is true, like her husband, a little sunburnt; but then she +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> as she assured me, and, as I had every reason for believing to be +true, comparatively healthy.</p> + +<p>While I was still in amazement, hardly knowing whether I was awake or +dreaming, a little girl approached us. Though somewhat slender and +delicate, she was only slightly diseased; rather, she was only +predisposed to disease by inheritance; and mere predispositions no more +destroy us, than a train of powder explodes without igniting. The girl +was about four or five years old. "Who is this?" I inquired. "Not yours, +most certainly," I added, turning to Mr. and Mrs. L. "We call her ours," +they said, "and yours; for we, no doubt, owe her life and health, in no +small degree, to your instructions."—"This," said I, "is what I little +expected to see; but you may thank God for it rather than me, since she +lives by virtue of obedience to his laws, and not mine. Then you are not +only pretty healthy yourselves," I added, "but you have a healthy +child."—"We have two," said they. "The other is in the cradle; we will +go and bring her."</p> + +<p>At this moment, the loud declaration, "The coach is ready, gentlemen," +reminded us that our conversation was at an end for the present, and we +were obliged to separate. Not, however, till we had enjoyed a most +luxurious mental repast in "the feast of reason, and the flow of soul," +with no abatement but the consciousness, on my part, of a little loss to +the landlord, who had provided for the passengers a smoking dinner.</p> + +<p>This, reader, to speak somewhat paradoxically, was one of the proudest, +and yet one of the humblest days of my life. To have been the +Heaven-appointed instrument of such a marked change for the better in a +human family, was more than could have been foreseen or even expected. +It is more than has often fallen to my lot. True, I do not hesitate to +regard it as an extreme case; and yet it is, in magnitude, just what I +could show you in miniature, at various points in the same vicinity, and +indeed, all over the country.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. L. still pursue the even tenor of their way, and have their +reward in it. One of their two daughters,—buds of early +promise,—though probably more or less scrofulous, hardly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> reached +maturity, ere she descended to the tomb. The rest enjoy a tolerable +degree of health. Of course, I do not speak of their health as greater +than that of the average of mankind, notwithstanding their thorough +reformation. It is much, all things considered, that it should be equal +to that average.</p> + +<p>As for the mother of Mrs. L., who still occasionally visits the family, +she looks on in silent amazement, hardly knowing whether to recommend +any more beer, with all sorts of roots good for the blood in it, or +whether to give up the pursuit. I believe, however, that she does not +often presume to interfere with their habits. Perhaps she has +learned—if not, she may possibly live long enough to acquire the +lesson,—to "let well alone," as her children and grandchildren already +have. I certainly hope she has. It will conduce greatly to her health +and happiness, as well as make her a better citizen and better +Christian.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>POISONING WITH LEAD.</h3> + + +<p>Nearly at the beginning of my practice in medicine, I was called to see +a fine and hitherto healthy youth, twelve years old, but who had for +several weeks before application was made to me, complained of a steady +and sometimes severe pain in his bowels, attended with more or fewer +febrile symptoms and a loss of appetite.</p> + +<p>In endeavoring to trace out carefully the causes of his disease, the +first thing that attracted my attention was his employment. His father +was a blacksmith, and being in moderate circumstances and destitute of +any other help besides this son, had for a considerable time required +him to perform the work of an adult, or nearly such. It had not been +suspected at the time, that the work injured him, though he had +sometimes complained of great fatigue, and of a slight weakness and +uneasiness in the place where the pain had now become fixed. As the +result of my investigations, I came to the conclusion that he had been +overworked, and certain ligaments of the bowels had been weakened.</p> + +<p>My treatment in the case was at first mild and palliative, in the hope +that after a few days of rest the trouble would disappear. Instead of +this, however, it grew worse. At my special request, various counselling +physicians were called in; but I do not know that they were of any +service to me. No new light was thrown on the case, though we could all +converse very learnedly on the subject.</p> + +<p>Like many other young practitioners, I was at that time apt to indulge +in gloomy fears about poisons. I seldom had a case of acute disease, +without suspecting their influence. I suspected poison now, and +accordingly made search into every possible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> nook and corner whence such +an influence could possibly have emanated. For a long time nothing could +be found.</p> + +<p>One day, on examining a pot of pickled cucumbers which had hitherto +escaped observation, I found that a part of its glazing had been +destroyed by the acid. I no sooner saw this than I was ready to say, +<i>eureka</i> (I have found it), and to inform the family and my patient. It +appeared that the pickles had been there for some time, and that the boy +had eaten of them very freely. The parents and friends, though they had +much confidence in the wisdom and skill of their physician, were very +slow to believe in the injurious tendency of the pickles. They admitted +the danger of such cases generally; but how could the boy be injured, +and not the rest of them? they asked. They forgot, or did not know, that +the poison would be more likely to affect one who was weakened in the +abdomen from other causes, than those who were sound; especially when he +took much more of it into his stomach than they did.</p> + +<p>In my suspicion about lead poisoning, I had very little sympathy from +those around me. Even the counselling physicians had little confidence +in any such existing cause of disease. They were nearly as ready as +other people to leave the case in the dark, and to say, practically, +"The finger of Providence is here;" or, in other words, It comes of some +cause which God alone knows or <i>can</i> know.</p> + +<p>How much of human ignorance—ay, and of human credulity and folly, +too—is clustered round the well-known decision of many a court of +inquest; viz., "Died by the visitation of God!" What do they mean by it? +Do they suppose that since Satan or some other personage whom we call +Death, is guilty of striking us down here and there, those who are not +"struck with death" are struck down by the great Source of light and +life?</p> + +<p>The far greater probability is, that they know not what they <i>do</i> mean. +Mankind are not addicted to thinking, especially on subjects of this +sort. It is much easier, or at least much lazier, to refer all our ills +and complaints, as well as their unfavorable terminations, to God or +Satan, friend or foe,—to some agency exterior to themselves,—than to +consider themselves as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> probable cause, and proceed to make diligent +search for their own errors.</p> + +<p>Thus it was, in a remarkable degree, in the region where it was my lot +to meet and palliate and try to cure diseases. I say, here, <i>cure</i>; for +the idea would hardly have found a lodgment, at that early period, in +any human brain which could have been found in that region of rural +simplicity, hardly in my own somewhat more highly enlightened cranium, +that <i>medical men never cure</i>; and that when people get well, it is the +result of the operations and efforts of nature, or of nature's God, who +is doing the best thing possible to set matters right.</p> + +<p>It was even deemed by many as not only foolish, but almost sacrilegious, +to say much about the causes of disease, and especially about lead. And +then to talk about lead as connected with the use of their favorite red +earthen, which had been in use time immemorial, and which had never, in +all past time, killed anybody, as they supposed, was the dictate of +almost any thing else rather than of good, sound, sober, common sense.</p> + +<p>You can hardly imagine, at this day, in the year 1859, what an air of +incredulity the gaping countenances of the family and neighbors of my +young friend and patient presented, when I told them stories of lead +disease in different parts of the country, especially of such cases as +were then recent and fresh in my memory. One of these stories may not be +out of place in the present connection.</p> + +<p>About the year 1812, the people of Elizabethtown, Penn., put up what +they called their apple butter in these same red earthen vessels, +glazed, as almost everybody now knows, with an oxyde of lead. There had +been a pottery established near the village that very year, and it was +thought not a little patriotic to purchase and use its products, thus +favoring the cause of home manufacture. Nearly every family, as it +appeared in the sequel, had bought and used more or fewer of these +vessels.</p> + +<p>This was, of course, some time in the autumn. In the progress of a few +months a dreadful disease broke out in the village, which baffled the +skill of the best physicians, and consigned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> some forty or fifty of the +inhabitants to the grave. The cause, at first, was not at all suspected. +At length, however, from a careful examination of facts, it was +ascertained that the disease which had proved so fatal must have had its +origin in the glazing of these vessels. The sickness abated only when it +had attacked all whose bowels—already weakened by some other cause or +causes—were duly prepared for the poisonous operation of the lead. It +is indeed true that the physicians supposed the disease came to a stand +on account of the overwhelming tendency of huge doses of calomel, which +they gave to almost everybody who had used the apple butter; but of this +there was no satisfactory evidence. It ceased, as I believe, and as I +have already intimated, because—except in the case of those who were +enfeebled by other causes, nature was too strong for it, or her +recuperative powers too energetic.</p> + +<p>Now this story illustrates a case which, in magnitude or in miniature, +is in our country of almost every-day occurrence; and the only reason +why the results everywhere else are not like those at Elizabethtown, is +simply this: that there is not so much of the poison used in any one +village, at the same time, as there was at that place in the +circumstances which have been mentioned. One is sick here, another +there, and another elsewhere. In one, owing to peculiar predisposition +or habit, it takes the shape of fever; in another, of palsy; in another, +of eruptions or boils; in another, of bowel complaint. And as all these +and many other diseases have been known before, and have been induced by +other causes equally unobserved or obscure, we have fallen into the +habit of supposing that these things must needs be, do what we will. In +other words, God the Creator, is supposed to have made the world and +appointed to us, for trial or otherwise, these various forms of disease; +and they are for the most part dealt out to us arbitrarily; or, if not +arbitrarily, by chance or hap-hazard.</p> + +<p>But to return to the young man. There was such a hostility of the public +mind to the idea that his disease was induced or even aggravated by +lead, that I receded in part from my suspicions. At least, I proceeded, +with fresh energy and enthusiasm,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> to search for other and more probable +or popular causes. Cause there must have been, of some sort, I was +confident; while to all my efforts of this kind the friends of the boy +stood opposed. They did not, it is true, say much against it; but then +it was perfectly evident from all their conversation and conduct that +they regarded it as not only idle, but presumptuous, perhaps wicked. How +can it be, they seemed to say, by those looks and actions which so often +speak louder than words, that this young doctor is always trying to +ferret out the causes of disease, while Dr —— (my predecessor) never +attempted any such thing, but rather dissuaded us from it?</p> + +<p>Yet thus it was precisely. For three long months I was endeavoring to +meet and obviate the symptoms of a disease which I secretly believed was +induced by lead, but of which I had no such strong evidence as would +have justified the positive affirmation that it was so, or prevented me +from searching for other causes. This state of mind was by no means +favorable to my success as a medical practitioner; for it somehow +greatly impaired or weakened their general confidence in my wisdom and +skill. Had I, on the other hand, "looked very wise," declared the +disease to be so and so, with great pertinacity, and adhered, through +good report and through evil, to my opinion, whenever it was assailed, +and withal manifested no desire to receive medical counsel, I should +have had a larger measure of their esteem, and a very much larger +measure, as a professional man, of their confidence. They might then +have thought me a very wise and good physician.</p> + +<p>A man who wishes to be greatly popular in the world must learn the ways +of the world, and walk in them more or less, whether they are crooked or +straight. He must not be over-modest, or over-honest; nor must he be +over-solicitous to improve his own mind or heart, or encourage others, +by precept or example, to walk in the way of improvement. He must not +only make up his mind to take the world as it is, but to suffer it to +remain so. The world does not like to be found fault with; it has a +great deal of self-confidence.</p> + +<p>The young man, in the end, recovered; not, as I now believe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> in +consequence of the treatment, but in spite of it. Had he been nursed +carefully from the first, and kept from every source of irritation, both +external and internal, even from food, except a very little of the +mildest sort, just enough to keep him from absolute starvation; and had +his air been pure and his temper of mind easy, cheerful and hopeful, he +would probably have recovered much sooner than he did, and with far +better prospects for the future. But he had been frightened about +himself, from the very first, by my own inquiries about poison,—which +had unwarily been communicated to him,—and his fears never wholly +subsided.</p> + +<p>How much wisdom from both worlds does it require in order to be a +physician! The office of a medical man, I repeat, is one of the noblest +under the whole heaven. The physician is, or should be, a missionary. Do +you regard this assertion as extravagant or unfounded? Why, then, was it +made an adjunct, and more than an adjunct, in the first promulgation of +the gospel, and this, too, by the gospel's divine Author? Why is it that +our success in modern times, in spreading the gospel, has been +greater—other things being equal—in America or China, in proportion as +its preachers have attended to the body as well as to the soul?</p> + +<p>At the time of my commencing the practice of medicine, I was no more fit +for it than I was to preach the cross of Christ; that is, I was almost +entirely unqualified for either profession. I was honest, sanguine, +philanthropic, but I was uneducated. I knew very little, indeed, of +human nature; still less did I know of the sublime art of becoming all +things to all men, in the nobler and more elevated sense of the great +apostle Paul. I would yield to no other compromise than such as he +encourages, of course. Let us be honest and truthful, though the heavens +fall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>STANDING PATIENTS.</h3> + + +<p>Medical men well know—should any such condescend to look over this +volume—what is meant when I affirm that I was not long in securing to +myself a good share of <i>standing patients</i>. They are the dread, not to +say the curse, of the profession. And yet they abound. They are found +throughout the length and breadth of the land, and in great numbers.</p> + +<p>They are a class of persons, not always of one sex, who hang +continually, like an incubus, on the physician, and yet are forever a +disadvantage to him. They are never well enough to let him alone, and +yet seldom ill enough to require much medical advice or treatment. And +yet, medicine they will have, of somebody, even if they go to the +apothecary for it, without so much as the semblance of a medical +prescription of any sort. But then, after all, they are seldom reduced +to any such necessity. They usually have on hand prescriptions enough of +some sort. A dearth of Yankee physicians—could such a thing possibly +occur—would still leave us a supply of Indian doctors, mesmeric +doctors, nutritive doctors, etc., etc., to say nothing of doctresses, in +liberal abundance, ever ready to prescribe.</p> + +<p>When I succeeded Dr. ——, in the chair of medicine, surgery, etc., at +----, I received, as if by contract, if not by inheritance, his whole +stock of standing patients. They were not slow to <i>call on</i>, sometimes +to <i>call in</i>, the new doctor. Nor was I often long in the house before +comparisons began to be made between my predecessor and myself. They did +not, of course, directly traduce or slander Dr. ——, but they were very +careful to intimate that, having got his name up, he had grown careless +about his patients, especially such of them as did not belong to his +clique, political or sectarian; and that, on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> this account, they were +almost willing to part with him, and to receive and accept as his +substitute one who was not only younger and more active, but also less +tinctured with conservatism and aristocracy!</p> + +<p>A very large amount of valuable time was spent during the first year of +my practice as a physician, in endeavors to do good to these very +devoted and loving and loyal patients; for if they did not always call +me when I had occasion to pass their doors, I knew full well they +expected me, and so I usually called. Besides, in many an instance I was +sent for in post haste, with entreaties that I would come and see them +immediately; and no atonement for neglect or even delay—if such neglect +or delay was ventured—would suffice. And yet, despite of their fears of +"monarchy and aristocracy," they were my most truly aristocratic +patients. They expected me to come and go at their request, whether +anybody else was attended to or not. And, to add to the vexation of the +case, though they boasted of having paid most enormous bills to my +predecessor, they never, if they could avoid it, paid any thing to me.</p> + +<p>Now, I do not suppose that every medical man has as large a share of +these standing patients as fell to my unhappy lot; but from the +knowledge I have acquired of mankind, and from the acquaintance I have +necessarily formed with medical men, I do not think I err when I affirm +that they are everywhere numerous, and that they are everywhere not only +a pest to society at large, but particularly so to the physician.</p> + +<p>But the worst feature of the case is, that after all our efforts, we can +seldom, if ever, cure them. They are always hanging upon us like an +incubus; and yet like Solomon's daughters of the horseleech, are never +satisfied. They take the medicine, and follow the advice, if they <i>like</i> +it; or they take such parts of it as they choose, and reject the rest. +Or they take the advice and follow us to-day, but get discouraged and +abandon us, at least practically, to-morrow; especially if some smart +young physician happens to come along, who has more than an average<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +share of empiricism and pretension, and more than he has of real merit.</p> + +<p>I must here confess, among other confessions, that at first I was not a +little deceived by their open countenances and concealed thoughts, and +unintelligent and hence unconfiding professions. It was a long time +before I relinquished the hope of doing them good; or at least a portion +of them. But I was at length compelled. There was nothing on which to +build. If a foundation seemed to be laid one day, it would disappear the +next.</p> + +<p>One fundamental difficulty lay in the way of these persons to health, as +it has to thousands of others. They were all the while talking or +thinking about themselves, their ailments and woes and abuses and +neglects. They were particularly inclined to turn their attention to +their own diseased feelings. Now it may be pretty safe to say that no +individual can fully recover from chronic disease,—nervous, stomachic, +or glandular—who is always turning his thoughts inward, and watching +his own feelings, and perhaps relating his woes to every one he meets +with. We must learn to forget ourselves, at least a part of the time, +and think of others, if we are in earnest to get rid of chronic disease. +I do not say, of course, that everybody would recover of disease, even +if they acted right in every particular; but this I <i>do</i> say, that if +every person who is ill would act wisely, and if their physicians, in +every instance, were wise enough to take the best course, the number of +these standing patients would soon dwindle to a very small remnant. +Instead of thousands, or tens of thousands, it would soon be reduced to +hundreds.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>KILLING A PATIENT.</h3> + + +<p>President Lindsley, late of one of our south western colleges,—a very +shrewd and observing, as well as learned and excellent individual—has +been often heard to say that no half-educated young physician ever +succeeded in obtaining a good run of professional business, and a fair +medical reputation, without despatching prematurely to the other world, +at least as many as half a dozen of his patients.</p> + +<p>It is said that most rules have their exceptions; and it is even +affirmed by some, that the exceptions strengthen the rule. If this is +so, perhaps the rule of Pres. L. may stand; though to many it seems at +first exceedingly sweeping. One known exception to its universality may +be worth mentioning, on which the reader may make his own comments, and +from which he may draw his own inferences. I was so fortunate for one, +as to attain to the eminence he mentions, without killing any thing +<i>like</i> half a dozen patients; at least, so far as I know.</p> + +<p>And yet, as I verily fear and most honestly confess, I <i>did</i> kill one or +two. Not, of course, with malice aforethought, for they were among my +very best friends; and one in particular was a near and highly valued +neighbor. Let me give you a few details concerning the latter. It may +serve as a lesson of instruction, as well as a confession.</p> + +<p>He was about six feet high, with large vital organs; and though by no +means possessed of a strong constitution, yet in virtue of a most rigid +temperance, generally healthy. He was, however, subjected to the +habitual influences of a most miserable cookery. Indeed, I never knew +worse. Seldom, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> ever, did he pass a single week—I might even say a +single day—without having his alimentary organs irritated to +subinflammation by more or fewer of what Dr. Dunglison, the +physiologist, would call "rebellious" mixtures. I do not wonder, in +truth, that he occasionally sickened. The wonder with me is, that he did +not sicken and die long before he did. And though the blow that finished +his perilous mortal career, was doubtless inflicted by my own hand, I do +not hesitate to say that his "housekeeper" had nearly half destroyed him +before I was called.</p> + +<p>It was a midsummer night, when the messenger came across an intervening +field, and aroused me from my slumbers with the intelligence that Mr. M. +was very sick, and wanted to have me come and see him immediately. +Although it was fully twelve o'clock, and I had been so fully occupied +during the preceding evening, that I had but just crawled into bed and +begun my slumbers, I was instantly on my feet, and in about twelve +minutes at the bedside of the sick man.</p> + +<p>He had been affected with a bowel complaint, as it appeared, for several +days, during which his wife, who was one of those conceited women who +know so much, in their own estimation, that nobody can teach them any +thing, had dosed him with various things, such as were supposed to be +good for the blood, or the stomach, among which was brandy and loaf +sugar. Now his bowels, though they were inflamed, might have borne the +sugar; but the brandy was a little too much for them. They had endured +it for a time, it is true, but had at length yielded, and were in a +worse condition than when she began her treatment. And what was worse, +her alcoholic doses, frequently "inflicted," had heated the circulatory +apparatus, and even the whole system, into a burning fever.</p> + +<p>It needed no very active imagination, in such circumstances, to make +out, at least in prospect, a very "hard case." And as he who has a giant +foe to contend with, arms himself accordingly, I immediately invoked the +strongholds of the Materia Medica for the strongest doses which it could +furnish, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> these in no measured or stinted quantity. In short, I +attacked the disease with the most powerful agents of which I could +avail myself.</p> + +<p>I will not trouble the non-professional reader with the names of the +various and powerful drugs which were laid under contribution in this +trying and dangerous case, and which were most assiduously plied. It is +sufficient, perhaps, to say that on looking over my directions—fairly +written out as they were, and laid on a small stand near the +sick-bed—you might have discovered that hardly a half-hour, by night or +day, could pass, in which he was not required to swallow some very +active or in other words poisonous medicinal agent or other. For though +I was even then greatly opposed, in <i>theory</i>, to the exhibition of much +medicine in disease, yet in <i>practice</i> I could not free myself wholly +from the idea that my prospects of affording aid, or rather of giving +nature a chance of saving a patient, was nearly in proportion to the +amount I could force into him of opium, calomel, nitrate of silver, +carbonate of ammonia, etc.</p> + +<p>It was, in short, enough to kill a Samson or a Hercules; and I repeat +that I verily fear that it did kill in the present instance; not, +however, immediately. For several days and nights we watched over him, +heating his brain, in our over-kindness, to a violent delirium on the +one hand, or to a stupor almost like the sleep of death on the other.</p> + +<p>Not satisfied with our own murderous efforts, we at length applied for +medical counsel. My predecessor was not so far off as to be quite beyond +our reach, and was in due time on the spot. He, good man, sanctioned the +deeds already done, and only made through the force of their +prepossessions, an addition to the dark catalogue of demons which +already assailed if they did not actually possess him.</p> + +<p>For the first time in my medical career, I suffered, here, from a loss +of the confidence of my employers. A very mean man, who could gain +notoriety in no other way, undertook to insinuate that I did not +understand well my profession; and this story for a short time made an +impression. However,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> there was soon a reaction in my favor, so that +nothing was lost in the end. More than even this might be said—that I +rose higher, as the result of the report.</p> + +<p>Mr. M. at length began to decline. Nature, though strongly entrenched in +her citadel, and loth to "give up the ship," began to succumb to the +powers of disease and the load of medicine; and he gradually descended +to the tomb. His whole sickness was of little more than a week's +duration.</p> + +<p>I was present at the funeral, but I could scarcely hold up my head, or +look any person in the face. To my perturbed imagination every one who +was but "three feet high" was ready to point at me the finger of scorn, +and say, "You have killed that man." The heavens themselves seemed +covered with thick darkness, and the green earth with sackcloth and +ashes. "Never again," I said to myself a thousand times, "can I bear up +under such sad and severe responsibilities."</p> + +<p>And yet—will the reader believe it?—no one circumstance of my whole +medical life ever did more to establish my reputation than this. True, I +had contended on the battle field, and had been beaten, but then it was +thought I had contended against a powerful foe. Men sometimes think it +honorable even to be beaten. I well remember an instance of this sort. A +very great scoundrel heaped insults upon a worthy justice of the peace, +till the latter seized him and held him down to the ground for a +considerable time. The man was quite respectable afterward, and told the +story to his own praise a thousand times over! He had measured lances +with 'Squire H.! And though the 'Squire was too much for him, he +obtained a town-wide reputation by the contest.</p> + +<p>You will see, more and more, as I proceed with these confessions, that +it is not in him that willeth nor in him that runneth, to be acceptable +as a physician, but in certain circumstances, partly within and partly +beyond our control. You will see, however, that the best way in the end +is, boldly and fearlessly to do right, and then trust in Him who loves +right, and whose throne is in the Heavens, for the final issue. We may +not always be popular in doing right—probably we shall <i>not</i> be—but we +shall, in any event, have a clear conscience.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>A SUDDEN CURE.</h3> + + +<p>I was called one morning very early, to see a little girl, five or six +years of age, who, it was said, was extremely sick, and without +immediate aid could not probably long survive.</p> + +<p>She was one of a very numerous family, most of whom, though suffered to +run almost wild, like so many rabbits, were comparatively healthy. I do +not suppose they had ever called in a physician more than once or twice +in a year. In truth, they had very little confidence in physicians; +though in extremities, they were accustomed to call on them almost as +much as other people. In any event Caroline was very sick now; and they +loudly demanded aid. I was forthwith on the spot. Caroline was groaning +most piteously. "Where is your distress?" I inquired. She gave no direct +answer, but continued to groan and writhe, as if she were impaled. As I +could obtain no reliable information from her, and could discover no +special or exciting cause of her suffering, and as the case was urgent, +I proceeded to do <i>something</i>, though, as I must honestly confess, it +was to labor quite in the dark. One thing I knew, it is true; that there +were spasms, and that it depended on a diseased condition of the brain +and nervous system; but what the cause or causes were, I could hardly +divine. Nor, in truth, had I time to ask many questions.</p> + +<p>Though the days of Hydropathy had not yet arrived, the world, even then, +had a good deal of water in it, and physicians were sometimes wise +enough to use it. It was demanded, as I thought, on the present +occasion. It would, at least, by whiling away the time, give opportunity +for further observation and reflection, and deeper investigation. There +was a good fire in the kitchen, and I ordered a warm bath immediately.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every effort was made to hasten the process of warming the water, as +well as to keep the patient quiet and within doors; for she raved like a +maniac—partly indeed from a childish fear, but partly also from real +bodily suffering. The family and neighborhood—for the latter were very +largely collected together—were almost as much alarmed and distressed +as the little patient, and this reacted on the patient to her increased +disadvantage.</p> + +<p>As there were no special preparations in those days for bathing—I mean +in the region of which I am now speaking—we used a large wash-tub. The +water was soon ready, and was made rather warm, quite above 100° of +Fahrenheit. I had taken the precaution to have my patient already +undressed, so as to lose no time. The very instant the bath was ready, +she was plunged into it. It cost some trouble, for she resisted with +almost superhuman strength, and uttered most terrific screams. But as +the ox is dragged to the slaughter, she was dragged into the water and +held in it.</p> + +<p>The effect was like magic. She had not been in the water twenty seconds +before every thing was quiet; and I do not know that she has ever had +another pang to the present hour. Certain it is that she seemed to be +entirely cured by this single bath, and none of her spasms ever +returned.</p> + +<p>The family were greatly delighted, and so were the neighbors. And was +the physician, think you, an uninterested spectator? Had he been wholly +destitute of the love of doing good, by relieving human distress, he +must at least have been susceptible of receiving pleasure from general +approbation.</p> + +<p>He certainly sought respectability as a physician. And this he was by +degrees now attaining.</p> + +<p>It is hardly possible to refer the sudden quiet which followed in this +instance from the application of warm water, to a mere coincidence, as +if the system was ready, just at this very instant, to react or rally. +The bath must have had something more than a mere imaginary or +accidental effect, though its prescription may be said to have been +empirical.</p> + +<p>Had the experiment in the present instance wholly failed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> it is by no +means improbable the physician would still have been on a par with other +men. The <i>guess</i> he made was his <i>only</i> thought. He had nothing in +reserve. But he was successful; he <i>guessed right</i>, and it built him up. +His fame now began to spread far and wide, wafted, as it were, on the +wings of every breeze. If he succeeded, it was supposed to be undeniable +proof of his skill; if he failed, it was not supposed to be so much his +fault as the result of circumstances; or, more properly, the severity of +the disease. And even in the case of failure, as I have said elsewhere, +he often gained credit; for he had boldly contended, at great odds, with +a mighty because intangible antagonist!</p> + +<p>It is an old proverb,—but by no means the less true for its age,—that +when a person is going down hill every one will give him a kick. But is +it not equally true that when he is resolutely going up hill, they are +equally ready to help him on? So at least I found it at this period of +my progress.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>GIGANTIC DOSES OF MEDICINE.</h3> + + +<p>Although I was opposed to the frequent and free use of medicine, I early +fell into one habit which was as diametrically opposed to my general +theory as could possibly have been. I refer to the habit of giving my +patients, at least occasionally, most enormous doses of those more +active preparations which should seldom, if ever, be administered in +this way. As nearly as I can now recollect, I fell into this habit in +the following manner:</p> + +<p>Among my standing patients, before mentioned, were several drunkards. +Occasionally, however, they were more than standing or standard +patients; they had attacks of mania, or as it is usually called in the +case of drunkards, delirium tremens. In these circumstances, among these +patients, I often had the most severe trials. Sometimes I could relieve +them; but sometimes, too, I failed.</p> + +<p>One night, while endeavoring to relieve the sufferings of one of these +patients in delirium tremens, almost to no purpose, the thought struck +me, "What effect would a prodigious dose of calomel have on the poor +creature? Can it kill him? I doubt it. I will venture on the trial."</p> + +<p>So, without communicating the slightest hint to any one around me of +what I was about to do, I contrived to insinuate a hundred grains or +more of this substance into the man's stomach, that like a chemical +receiver took what was poured into it. Having succeeded in the +administration of the dose, I waited patiently the issue.</p> + +<p>The medicine had, in due time, its full ordinary effect; but the degree +of its cathartic effect was not in proportion to the largeness of the +dose. Its activity hardly amounted to violence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> It seemed, however, to +quiet the brain and nerves as if by magic; nor am I aware that any +injurious effects, either local or general, ever followed its +exhibition. I had the full credit of a speedy and wonderful cure.</p> + +<p>Another fact. I was frequently called to prescribe for children who were +threatened with the croup. One night, on being called to a child of some +eight or ten months, I thought of large doses of calomel. Was there any +great risk in trying one? I ventured. I gave the child almost a +teaspoonful of this active cathartic. It was indeed a gigantic dose, and +the treatment was bold if not heroic.</p> + +<p>For a couple of hours the patient breathed badly enough. There was +evidently much oppression, not only of the lungs but of the nervous +system. The parents and friends of the child grew uneasy. They were not, +however, more uneasy than their physician. But I consoled myself by +laboring to compose them. I preached to them long and loud, and to some +extent with success.</p> + +<p>At the end of about two hours, the latter part of which had been marked +by a degree of stupor which almost discouraged me, a gentle vomiting +came on, followed by moderately cathartic effects; and the child +immediately recovered its mental activity, and in a few days was well.</p> + +<p>Empirical as this practice was, I ventured on it again and again, and +with similar success. At length the practice of giving giant doses in +this disease became quite habitual with me, and I even extended it to +other diseases. Not only calomel, but several other active medicines +were used in the same bold and fearless manner. I do not know that I +ever did any direct or immediate mischief in this way. On the contrary, +I was regarded as eminently successful.</p> + +<p>And yet I should not now dare to repeat the treatment, however urgent +might seem to be the demand, or recommend it to others. It might, +perhaps, be successful; but what if it should prove otherwise? I could +make no appeal to principle or precedent in justification of my conduct. +It is true, I have met with one or two practitioners whose experience +has been similar;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> but what are a few isolated cases, of even honest +practice, in comparison with the deductions of wise men for centuries? +There may be after consequences, in these cases, which are not foreseen. +Sentence against an evil work, as Solomon says, is not always executed +speedily.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMBSKIN DISEASE.</h3> + + +<p>Should any medical man look through these pages, he may perchance amuse +himself by asking where the writer obtained his system of classification +of disease. It will not, certainly, be very easy to find such a disease +as the lambskin disease in any of our modern nosologies. But he will +better understand me when he has read through the chapter. He may be +reminded, by its perusal and its quaint title, of the classification +which is found in Whitlow's New Medical Discoveries, founded, as the +doctor says, on the idea that "every disease ought to be named from the +plant or other substance which is the principal exciting cause of such +disease." It is as follows:</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>"The Mercurial</td><td align='left'>Disease,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Belladonna</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Stramonium</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Tobacco</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Cicuta</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Butter Cup</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Colchicum</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Colocynth</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Pork or Hog</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Vinegar</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fool's Parsley</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Fox Glove</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Nux Vomica</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Quassia</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Opium</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Hellebore</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Salt</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Mineral Acid</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Acrid</td><td align='center'>do</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Putrid</td><td align='center'>do"</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>If on examination the curious reader should find no such disease as the +"Lambskin disease" in Dr. W.'s catalogue, he should remember that the +list is by no means complete, and that there will be no objection to the +addition of one more. And why, indeed, may I not coin terms as well as +others? All names must have been given by somebody.</p> + +<p>But I will not dwell on the subject of nosology too long. I have +something else to do in this chapter than merely to amuse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> I have some +thoughts to present on health and sickness,—thoughts, too, which seem +to me of vast importance.</p> + +<p>A son of Mr. G., a farmer, had been at work in an adjoining town, all +summer, with a man who was accustomed to employ a great number of hands +in various occupations,—farming, road building, butchering, etc., etc. +Of a sudden, young G., now about twenty years of age, was brought home +sick, and I was sent for late at night—a very common time for calling +the doctor—to come and see him.</p> + +<p>I found him exceedingly weak and sick, with strong tendencies to +putridity. What could be the cause? There was no prevailing or epidemic +disease abroad at the time, either where he had been laboring, or within +my own jurisdiction; nor could I, at first, find out any cause which was +adequate to the production of such effects as were before me.</p> + +<p>I prescribed for the young man, as well as I could; but it was all to no +purpose. Some unknown influence, local or general, seemed to hang like +an incubus about him, and to depress, in particular, his nervous system. +In short, the symptoms were such as portended swift destruction, if not +immediate. I could but predict the worst. And the worst soon came. He +sunk, in a few days, to an untimely grave. I say <i>untimely</i> with +peculiar emphasis; for he had hitherto been regarded as particularly +robust and healthy.</p> + +<p>His remains were scarcely entombed when several members of his father's +family were attacked in a similar way. Another young man in the +neighborhood, who had been employed at the same place with the deceased, +and who had returned at the same time, also sickened, and with nearly +the same symptoms. And then, in a few days more, the father and mother +of the latter began to droop, and to fall into the same train of +diseased tendencies with the rest. Of these, too, I had the charge.</p> + +<p>My hands were now fully occupied, and so was my head. Anxious as most +young men are, in similar circumstances, not only to save their +patients, but their reputation, and though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> the distance at which they +resided was considerable, I visited both families twice a day, and +usually remained with one of them during the night. I was afraid to +trust them with others.</p> + +<p>Physically this constant charge was too much for me, and ought not to +have been attempted. No physician should watch with his patients, by +night or by day,—above all by night—any more than a general should +place himself in the front of his army, during the heat of battle. His +life is too precious to be jeoparded beyond the necessities involved in +his profession.</p> + +<p>But while my hands were occupied, my mind was racked exceedingly with +constant inquiry into the cause of this terrible disease,—for such to +my apprehension it was becoming. The whole neighborhood was alarmed, and +the paleness of death was upon almost every countenance.</p> + +<p>My doubts were at length removed, and the cause of trouble, as I then +supposed and still believe, fully revealed. The disease so putrescent in +its tendencies, had originated in animal putrefaction. The circumstances +were as follows:—</p> + +<p>The individual with whom the young men who sickened had been residing +and laboring, had laid aside, in his chamber, some time before, quite a +pile of lambskins, just in the condition in which they were when removed +from their natural owners, and had suffered them to lie in that +condition until they were actually putrescent and highly offensive. The +two young men, owing to the relative position of the chambers they +occupied, were particularly exposed to the poisonous effluvia.</p> + +<p>I did not forget—I did not then forget—the oft inculcated and +frequently received doctrine, that animal impurity is not apt to +engender disease. It most certainly had an agency—a prominent one—in +the case before us. Perhaps it has such an influence much more +frequently than is generally supposed.</p> + +<p>One of my patients, in the family which I first mentioned,—a little boy +two or three years old,—died almost as soon, after being seized with +disease, as his elder brother had done. The rest, though severely sick, +and at times given over to die, finally recovered. Some of them were +sick, however, many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> months, and none of them, so far as I now +recollect,—with perhaps a single exception,—ever enjoyed as good +health afterward as before.</p> + +<p>I had in these families six or eight of the most trying cases I ever had +in my life; and yet, with the exceptions before named, all recovered. +How much agency my own labors as a medical man had in producing this +result, I am at a loss to conjecture. As an attendant or nurse, I have +no doubt my services were valuable. And it was because a good nurse is +worth more than a physician that I so frequently ran the risk of +watching over the sick so closely as considerably to impair my own +health.</p> + +<p>The neighbors and friends of the two sick families, as I have already +intimated, looked on in silent agony during the whole campaign; +expecting, first that <i>their</i> families, too, would soon be called to +take their turn; and secondly, that I, the commander in chief, should be +a sufferer, which of course would be a great public disadvantage. They +were almost as much gratified as I, when we all came forth from the fire +unscathed.</p> + +<p>On the whole, except as regards health, I was a gainer rather than a +loser by the affair. I mean, of course, in the way of medical +reputation. I was by this time fairly established as a powder and pill +distributer, of the <i>first water</i>. In other words, I was beginning to be +regarded as a good family physician, and to be sought for, not only +within the narrow limits of my own native township, some four or five +miles square, but also quite beyond these narrow precincts. Occasionally +I had patients in three or four adjoining towns, and I was even +occasionally called as counsel to other physicians. My ambition was +high, perhaps higher than it ought to have been; but it had its checks +and even its valleys of humiliation; so that on the whole I retained my +sanity and a full measure of public confidence.</p> + +<p>And yet, in conclusion, I have to confess that besides exposing my own +health, I made many medical blunders. I would not again run the risk to +health or reputation which, during this long trial of several months, I +certainly ran, for any sum<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> of money which king Croesus or the +Rothschilds could command. Nor do I believe an intelligent physician can +do it, without being guilty of a moral wrong. Every one has his +province; let him carefully ascertain what that is, and confine himself +to it. The acting commander in an important military expedition has no +right to place himself in the ranks of those who are about to leap a +ditch, scale a wall, or charge bayonet. Paul has no right to labor in +Athens when he knows perfectly well that he can do more good in +Jerusalem, and the voice of God, by his Providence or otherwise, calls +him thither. And "to him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to +him it is sin."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>MILK PUNCH FEVER.</h3> + + +<p>A certain young woman who had great general confidence in my skill, +after I had stood by her many long hours in one of Nature's sorest +trials, was left at length in a fair way to recover, except that she was +exceedingly exhausted, and needed the most careful attendance on the +part of those around her. She no longer needed any medicine, nothing but +to be let alone. In other words, she needed nothing but good nursing and +entire freedom from all care and responsibility.</p> + +<p>Being obliged at this juncture to leave her for nearly the whole night, +I gave the best directions to her principal nurse of which I was +capable, as well as the principal reasons on which it was founded. She +seemed entirely submissive, and perhaps, in theory, was so. But in my +zeal to make them understand that I was acting on common-sense +principles, I committed one error, a very common one, indeed, but yet an +error. It was that of reasoning with them with a view to make every +thing particularly intelligible. One has authority, in these matters, as +long as he takes the <i>attitude</i> of authority, but the moment he descends +to the general level of his patients, and in true republican style puts +himself on a par with them, he begins to lose their confidence as a +physician. You may not be sensible of a loss of this sort, nor even the +physician. You may even think the reverse were more true. But you +deceive yourself. Though your patients may love you better as a friend +or even as a father, yet they have lost confidence in you medically, in +nearly the same proportion. Strange indeed that it should be so; but so, +according to my own observation, it ever has been. That a prophet is +"without honor"—and most so in his own country and among his own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +personal friends—is as true now as it was eighteen hundred years ago.</p> + +<p>Had I told Mrs. D.'s attendants to do so or so, and left them without +saying a word more, they would probably have done it. But I had +condescended to reason with them about the matter; their belief that +medical men dealt with the stars, and spoke with a species of +supernatural authority, had been shaken; and they were emboldened to +reason on the subject, and to hearken to the reasonings as well as to +what had but the slightest resemblance thereto in others, during my +absence.</p> + +<p>Having occasion to use all possible precaution against the supervention +of milk fever in my patient, I left particular directions that nothing +stimulating should be administered, and assigned several good, +substantial reasons. No food was to be given, except a little bread and +some plain chicken broth, with no condiment or dressing but a little +salt; and this at intervals of about four hours. No drink—not a +particle—was to be given, except frequent very small draughts of cold +water.</p> + +<p>While I was absent Mrs. D.'s mother came into their family, not only to +rejoice with them in an accession to their number, but to render them a +little aid. She was one of those mothers whose kindness so often defeats +their best and purest intentions. She was all eyes, ears, and attention, +and <i>nearly all talk</i>. The daughter's treatment soon underwent a special +scrutiny, and was found "wanting."</p> + +<p>"Has the doctor ordered my daughter no milk punch?" she said to the +attendants. "Not a drop," they replied. She raised both hands in +astonishment. "How, then," she asked, "can the ninny expect she can ever +have any nourishment for that <i>boy</i>?" The attendants could not inform +her. "The doctor," they said, "gave reasons," but they could not fully +understand them.</p> + +<p>"He did not probably understand them himself," said she. "There are no +reasons against it, I am confident. It is only a notion of his. These +young doctors are always full of their book wisdom. Why, a little +experience is worth a whole world full of theories. Now <i>I</i> know—and so +does every other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> person who has nursed children—that a little milk +punch, in these cases, is necessary. Not a great deal, it is true; but a +little, just enough to give the system strength. Nature is weak in these +cases. I wish some of these young doctors themselves were obliged to +endure the trials we have to endure, and we should see whether they +could get along with no drink but cold water!"</p> + +<p>The rebellion soon reached the daughter's ears, who, till now, had +confided in the "doctor's" prescription, and was doing well. She was +soon as uneasy with things as they were, as her mother and the nurse and +the neighbors. The husband was not of the clique; but then he was one of +those good-natured men who leave every thing to their wives; and though +they may not fully approve of every thing that is attempted, will yet do +and refrain from doing many things for the sake of peace. He interposed +no veto on the present occasion.</p> + +<p>The mother, in short, soon reigned "sole monarch," and proceeded to +issue from her imperial throne, the sage decree that a little milk punch +must be made. Judith, the nurse, was to have it prepared so and so, and +she would herself administer it. Only just so many spoonfuls of rum must +be added to the tumbler of milk and water, and just so much sugar. It +must be weak, the decree said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. D. drank freely of the punch, because her mother told her that it +would do her good. True, she asked after the first swallow, "what will +the doctor say to this?" but her mother bade her be quiet, she would see +to all that. "It is made very weak," said the mother, "on purpose for +you; drink of it a little and often. It will be both food and drink to +you. It will be good for the babe, dear child! how can these doctors +wish to starve folks? I have no notion of starving to death, or having +my children or grandchildren starved."</p> + +<p>It was now past midnight, and Mrs. D. had as yet slept but very little. +Had she simply followed out my directions she might have slept an hour +or two before midnight, and several hours in the aggregate afterward. +This, though done by stealth and in short naps, would have given her +more real rest and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> strength than a whole gallon of milk punch, and +instead of kindling fever, would have carried off all tendencies of the +kind.</p> + +<p>On my arrival, early the next morning, I found a good deal of headache, +such as cold water and plain food and rest seldom, if ever, create. My +fears were at once excited, and they were greatly strengthened when I +saw her mother. But the blow had been struck, and could not be recalled. +Mrs. D., in short, was already in the beginning stage of a fever which +came within a hair's breadth of destroying her.</p> + +<p>It is indeed true that she finally recovered. No thanks, however, were +due to the mother's over-kindness, nor to my own over-communicativeness. +Had I done my duty, had I kept my own counsel, nobody, not even the +mother herself, as I now verily believe, would have ventured to disobey +my positive injunctions. And had this mother done, as she would have +been done by in similar circumstances, all would probably have been well +still. We should have saved a little reputation, and a good deal of +health.</p> + +<p>I learned, I repeat, from this unexpected adventure, that it was wisdom +to keep my own secrets. I do not say that I have always acted up to the +dignity of this better knowledge, but I am justified in saying that I +have sometimes profited from an acquaintance with human nature that cost +me dear. It is no trifle to see an individual suffer from painful +disease a couple of weeks, and jeopard the life of a child during the +whole time, when a little knowledge how to refrain from speaking <i>ten +words</i> of a particular kind and cast, would have prevented every evil.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>MY FIRST CASE IN SURGERY.</h3> + + +<p>My first surgical case of any magnitude, was that of a wounded foot. +For, though I had been required to bleed patients many times,—and +bleeding is properly a surgical operation,—yet it had become so common +in those days, and was performed with so little science or skill, that +it was seldom recognized as belonging to the department of surgery.</p> + +<p>One of my neighbors had struck his axe into the upper part of his foot, +and cut it nearly through. Happening to be at home when the accident +occurred, which was in my own immediate neighborhood, I was soon on the +spot, and ready to afford assistance; and, as good luck would have it, +the man was not at all weakened by loss of blood, at my arrival.</p> + +<p>My lesson from an old surgeon<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> was not yet forgotten. I still knew, as +well as any one could have told me, that to put together the divided +edges of the wound and keep them there, was half the cure. But how was +this to be done? Slips of adhesion plaster would bring the divided edges +of the wounded surface into their place, but would the deeper-seated and +more tendinous parts unite while left without touching each other? Or +should a few stitches be taken?</p> + +<p>The wound was lengthwise of the foot, and no tendons were divided. I +made up my mind to dress it without any sewing, and acted accordingly. +The bleeding soon ceased. When all was secured, the patient inquired +what he should put on it, to cure it. Had he not raised the question, I +might, perhaps, have followed out my own ultra tendencies, and left it +without any application at all; but as it was, I concluded to order +something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> on which he might fasten his faith,—something which, though +it should do no good, would do no harm.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is better for a fresh wound," I said, "than the 'Balsam of +Life.' Just send Thomas over to Mr. Ludlow's, and get a couple of ounces +of his 'Balsam of Life.'" It was soon brought, and the surface of the +wound and its bandages moistened with it. "Now," said I, "keep your foot +as still as you can till I see you again. I will be in again before I go +to bed."</p> + +<p>I called again at nine o'clock in the evening. All appeared well, only +the patient had some doubts whether the Balsam of Life was just the +right thing. Several of the neighbors had been in, as he said, and, +though they admitted that the Balsam might be very good, they knew, or +thought they knew, of something better. However, I succeeded in quieting +most of his rising fears for the present, by assuring him that nothing +in the wide world was equal, for its healing virtues, to the "Balsam." +My voice here was law, for <i>I gave no reasons</i>!</p> + +<p>On making inquiry, afterward, with a view chiefly to gratify +curiosity,<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> I found that the first individual who came in after I had +left the house, assured them there was nothing so good for a fresh wound +as a peach leaf. The next, however, insisted that the best way was to +bind up the part in molasses. The third said the best way was to take +just three stitches to the wound, and bind it up in the blood. The +fourth said the most sovereign thing in the world, for a fresh cut, was +tobacco juice!</p> + +<p>Now I could have told these various representatives of as many various +public opinions, that all these things and many more which might have +been named, are, in a certain sense, good, since any mere flesh wound, +in the ordinary circumstances of ordinary life, will heal in a +reasonable time, in spite of them. I could have told them, still +further, that the Balsam of Life was probably little, if any, better +than the other things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> proposed, any farther than as it secured more +faith and confidence, and prevented the application of something which +was worse. I could have assured them that all the external applications +in the world are of no possible service, except to defend from cold air, +and prevent external injuries, or reduce inflammation; and that the +last-mentioned symptom, should it occur, would be best relieved by cold +water. But what good would it have done? Just none at all, according to +my own experience. Positive assurance—mere dogmatism—was much better.</p> + +<p>The wound did well as it was, though it might have done much better, +could the patient's faith have been just as firmly fixed on nothing at +all but Nature, as it was on <i>medicaments</i>. However, the tincture I +proposed, which somebody had dignified with the name of Balsam of life, +had done very little harm, if any, to the parts to which it had been +applied, while it had done a great deal of good to the patient's mind, +and the minds of his friends. It was nothing, I believe, but a compound +tincture of benzoin. I have used it a great number of times, and with +the same wonderful results. The patient always gets well, either on +account of it, or in spite of it! Does it make much practical difference +which?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> See Chap. VIII.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Even such inquiries as these are usually of doubtful +tendency. They weaken public confidence. There must be but one opinion +of any value to the physician or his patients, and that must be <i>his +own</i>!</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>EMILIA AND THE LOVE CURE.</h3> + + +<p>One young family on whom I was accustomed to call from time to time, was +not only accustomed to send for me in the night, as did many others, +but, what made it much worse for me, they resided some four or five +miles distant, among the mountains. They were of that class of people +who look every man on his own things, and never, as the apostle would +enjoin, on the things of others. They knew very well that a physician, +though he might be half a conjuror, required sleep; still, they were +willing to finish their day's work, eat their supper, perform a large +number of <i>et ceteras</i>, even if they did not call for the doctor till he +had fairly taken off his boots to retire for the night. But there was +one consolation in all this, that they paid me promptly; and medical +men, as you know, like other men, work for pay. They cannot live wholly +on air.</p> + +<p>In the same house with the family alluded to, was a young woman, about +twenty-five years of age, who had been confined to her bed ten or twelve +years. She was the only daughter of very indulgent parents, who had +never, from her earliest years, thought they could do too much for her. +In truth, this was the source of her feebleness. Some little ailment, +indeed, there might have been at the outset, induced by pie, cake, +preserves, pickles, or something which no truly kind parents should +permit a child to take; though nothing more than might have been got rid +of in its effects, by a little patient waiting. But instead of waiting a +little, the anxious mother had dosed and drugged her. And these ill +turns had been more and more frequent, just in proportion to the +frequency with which she had been drugged for them; till, at twelve +years of age, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> was almost all the while complaining. And at +fourteen, she was completely bedridden—a burden to herself and to +others.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said my principal employer, at about twelve o'clock, when I +had attended to his own little family, and was about to leave, "whether +you could do any thing for our Millie. She has tried almost all the +doctors, to no purpose; but we have so much confidence here in your +skill, that she sometimes speaks of trying you. She is hardly willing to +'give up the ship' without another trial."</p> + +<p>This, as you must be aware, was a stirring appeal to my love of +approbation; but it was too late at night to make a call on her at that +moment. So, promising to come and see her shortly, I took my leave, and +rode home, as usual, meditating.</p> + +<p>Now I had never seen Emilia, but from the account which I had received +from the neighbors, as well as from the nature of the case, I knew very +nearly how she was; and that the great difficulty in the way of recovery +was the constant habit of watching herself and attending to every +internal sensation. In other words, she was so completely wrapped up in +self, that I could see no reasonable prospect of getting her mind out of +the maze in which it had been so long involved.</p> + +<p>But I found time, a few days afterward, as I was employed again in the +same neighborhood, to call and see her; and I ventured accordingly. She +was sitting up in the bed, well bolstered, with a huge mass of clothing +both on herself and on the bed. Then, at her right hand, was a stand +half covered with bowls, saucers and tumblers; and near it a little +closet or recess, in which were nearly an equal number of parcels of +medicine, wrapped in papers ready to be used, when they were supposed to +be necessary.</p> + +<p>I had no sooner entered the room, than she began to give me an account +of her medicine, rather than of herself. So rapid was her enunciation, +and so eager was she to tell me what she knew—not about the symptoms of +her disease, but about the treatment—that it was a full quarter of an +hour before I could reach the inmost recesses of her condition. "That," +said she,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> "is for canker in the mouth; that for sore throat; that is an +eye wash I sometimes use, and that is a kind of bitters Dr. R. left for +me, but which I have now nearly done taking—and they never did me any +good," etc.</p> + +<p>When I found an opportunity, I endeavored to investigate, very fully and +freely, what had hitherto been supposed to be a very remarkable case. I +found, indeed, that the patient had a great many little troubles, +dependent mainly on the state of a mind greatly harassed by constant +reflex tendencies, not easily eradicable. But I did not find it easy to +prescribe for her. She was one of those very inquisitive people who wish +to know what every thing you give them is, and who have a very +conscientious objection to every thing. However, I at last settled down +on a course of treatment, and wrote it out in a fair hand, and left it +at the bedside. Not, however, I repeat, till I had foolishly fallen into +my former error, and told her all the whys and wherefores.</p> + +<p>This familarity into which she had drawn me, had already extracted +one-half the virtue of my medicine; for that is no longer mysterious +which the medical man openly and freely discusses. The freedom of +thinking she had indulged in while I was present, had been extended to +freedom of action; and the very medicine, whose virtues she had dared to +discourse upon, she ventured to set aside, when her experience assured +her it was not producing the effect she desired, and for which she +supposed it was intended. So that what, from the first, I had feared, +and more than I had feared, at length happened. She took my medicine, +professedly,—that is, just when she pleased,—for about four weeks, to +no manner of purpose whatever, except to deceive herself; for during the +first and second weeks of its use, she imagined herself all the while +getting better; while during the third week she began to doubt, and +about the fourth week she came to the sage conclusion that she was just +where she had been a month or two before.</p> + +<p>The great, abiding difficulties of her case—her want of simple, +confiding trust in her physician, and her constant, anxious attention to +her own internal sensations, were far enough from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> being overcome. She +was, in short, very nearly where she was ten years before, except that +she was in circumstances rather more difficult to be reached, and had +become rather more sceptical about medicine.</p> + +<p>What should now be done? Must the case be abandoned? Or was there some +other way, some <i>new</i> way, by means, of which it could be reached? I was +not quite willing to give her up as irrecoverable, and yet I saw nothing +remaining which I could do. I revolved the thing in my mind, by night +and by day. At last a plan struck me which I verily believed would +succeed.</p> + +<p>A few miles distant was a young physician, just from the schools, who +vainly, though naturally, supposed he knew almost every thing which was +known, and who wanted business. As he had nothing to lose, even if he +were to fail in a hundred trials, but every thing to gain could he +effect one very remarkable cure, I proposed to the family to employ him. +I knew well he would have one or two advantages over his older and more +experienced brethren. He would not at once place himself on the same +platform with his patient and the friends, by answering their numerous +questions; and for this plain and simple reason: In the first place, +that he <i>could</i> not, and very probably knew his own weakness; secondly, +he would have more of that blind faith in medicine which inspires the +ignorant with confidence.</p> + +<p>But there was another thought beyond all this, a wheel within a wheel. +The young physician might succeed better than I, in drawing her +thoughts, and even her affections, away from herself; for he was a +single man, and the patient, though sick, not destitute of charms, +especially of that more tangible charm which, to <i>indigent</i> young men, +and especially young <i>medical</i> men, so often eclipses all others. She, +on her part, as I well knew, was not wholly resigned to the world of +single blessedness, though her long-continued ill health had almost +unfitted her for any thing else.</p> + +<p>It only required a little <i>management</i> to bring about the desired +result. Dr. Juvenis was soon employed; and, though he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> did not always +reply to her questions, which were numerous, and often wholly +irrelevant, yet according to my own secret anticipations, he gradually +raised her hopes in another direction, and hence drew her attention in +no small degree from herself. His reserve, too, served but to inspire +her with confidence in his great wisdom. There was something deep beyond +the exterior, she always thought, which did not come out to the full, +vulgar gaze.</p> + +<p>The final result was a strong attachment on her part, which, though not +reciprocated by him in a direct manner, was not by any means repelled. +The virtues of the medicines were no longer discussed or doubted; and it +was obvious to all that she was beginning to mend.</p> + +<p>It was now high time for me to abandon a field which was not only fully +occupied, but <i>well</i> occupied. The visits of the young physician were +continued, at longer or shorter intervals, for years, till the young +woman's health was nearly restored; and, as I subsequently learned, they +were married. The more recent history of her life, I have not been able +to ascertain, except that neither party gained as much by the new +connection as had been expected,—a result which, alas! is by no means +any thing new, and that there was, after some time, a relapse of +disease.</p> + +<p>This artifice for restoring health to a bedridden patient, is not +mentioned in a way of approbation, but of regret, or at least of +confession. Yet, while it declares my weakness, it develops or at least +confirms a well-known principle, which it concerns mankind, patients as +well as physicians, most fully and clearly to understand. The medical +efficiency of an agent is greatly enhanced when the mind can be made to +go along with it.</p> + +<p>I have wished a thousand times, both by night and by day, that I had +never commended Dr. Juvenis to the favorable notice and regard of this +illiterate but confiding family. True, I had the good fortune thus to +get rid of a most troublesome, standing <i>patient</i>. Had I a moral right +thus to do? Did the end either sanction or sanctify the means? Grant +that I saved,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> or seemed to save, the patient;—was she really saved? +Was there any absolute gain in the end? These are questions which I +cannot, as yet, fully settle. Most certainly she was not quite cured.</p> + +<p>What a mighty work for this fallen world education has yet to achieve; +especially Physical Education! This, reader, let me say once for all, +this physical education, under the guidance of Christianity, whose +handmaid all true science should be, and to whose development and +application all true religion should be directed, is our chief +dependence. It is the lever by which we are to raise the world.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>HEZEKIAH AND DELIRIUM TREMENS.</h3> + + +<p>One morning, about two o'clock, in the depth of winter, I was roused +from my slumbers by a stranger's voice, requesting me to get up and go +immediately along the sides of the mountain and see Hezekiah. "And who +is Hezekiah?" I said, only half awake; "and where is the side of the +mountain? And who are you with whom I am conversing?"</p> + +<p>The mystery was easily cleared up, and I mounted my horse and was soon +on the road through the sides of the mountain. It was wild and +unfrequented; nay, it was, in places, almost impassable, especially in +the night. Mr. Judkins, the father of the sick man, not only resided +quite beyond my usual range of practice, but almost out of the range of +everybody else, squirrels and rabbits and wild fowls excepted.</p> + +<p>In passing along, I made many inquiries with regard to the particular +condition of the young man, in order to prepare myself for a more rapid +investigation of his case whenever I should arrive. But I sought in +vain. The messenger's lips were almost wholly sealed. The cause, at that +time, I did not at all understand; but I had, subsequently, great reason +to believe he was silent and reserved by the special command of the +patient's friends. All I could obtain from my guide, was that Hezekiah +had an ill turn; that he was occasionally subject to ill turns, and that +the family were greatly alarmed about him.</p> + +<p>On my arrival, I found a group of friends large enough, almost, for a +train band, gathered so closely round the bed of the young man that he +could hardly breathe. There was, also, a monstrous fire in the chimney, +sufficient to heat well the whole house, had the heat been properly +distributed. The air was,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> at best, greatly confined; but it was +particularly so to the poor patient, who lay panting as if in a dying +condition.</p> + +<p>Yet I soon saw, and, as it were, instinctively, that he was not likely +to die immediately. Some adventitious cause was evidently operating to +throw his brain and nervous system into an abnormal condition, nor was I +long in determining what it was. The father was a farmer. He possessed +immense orchards, and made great quantities of cider, and one of his +neighbors owned a distillery. For every barrel of cider Mr. J. carried +to the distillery, he received in return a certain amount of +cider-brandy; and at the time when I was called to see Hezekiah, he had +more than two barrels of this "precious commodity" in his cellar. At the +close of autumn he had had three barrels.</p> + +<p>Why this deposit of an article so doubtful? And what had become of the +one barrel which had disappeared? Not a member of the family would touch +it, but Mr. J. himself, and Hezekiah. The women and children did, +indeed, sometimes taste a little molasses toddy, as it was called. Mr. +J. would prepare it and pass it round in the morning just before +breakfast, in the hope and expectation that all would taste it; and they +usually did so. It was not, however, quite a voluntary thing on their +part, but a species of moral compulsion. Left entirely to themselves, +they never would have tasted it.</p> + +<p>Now think, reader, of two persons in a family, with two or three barrels +of brandy at their entire disposal, with the expectation of consuming +it, or the far greater part of it, during autumn and winter. Why, three +barrels are more than a quart a day, for every day of the year. Mr. J. +drank freely; but not more freely than his son. The latter was treading +in the steps of his father, with the almost certain prospect of going, +in the end, quite beyond him.</p> + +<p>It was not difficult to prescribe for the young man. The far greater +difficulty was to induce him to follow out the prescription. I was +honest enough to tell the father what ailed the son, and what ought to +be done, and to plead with him to change his own habits immediately. I +could not, it is true,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> quite prevail, when I urged him to pour his +brandy, the whole of it, into the street; for that, as he said and +doubtless thought, would be a waste of property. But he <i>did</i> promise to +<i>sell</i> it; though even this promise he never kept. He even continued to +drink it; though as he always insisted, with great moderation. But the +greatest drinkers we have among us, are usually the first to speak of +their own moderation.</p> + +<p>The sequel of the story may easily be guessed. Hezekiah became a +miserable creature, and ere he reached the age of fifty came to a most +miserable end,—the drunkard's death, by the drunkard's mania. Mr. J. +having inherited a strong constitution passed on to sixty-three, when, +like a mighty tree with decayed trunk, a slight wind crushed him to the +dust.</p> + +<p>His family, most of them, still survive; but they are daughters, and +have not inherited the vices of their father, so much as his diseases. +They have, at least, inherited the disease which drinking is so apt to +entail on the next generation,—I mean scrofula. Several of Mr. J.'s +elder daughters are already dead; and the younger ones—for he had a +very large family—are feeble, and always will be so; and their children +are still more feeble. Thus "earthward," and not heavenward, "all +things" in the family of the drunkard have a tendency.</p> + +<p>How painful the reflection that I did not labor with this family, not +only in season, as I certainly did, but also out of season, and try to +save it! I had influence with them. My honest plainness at my first +visit, above described, did not prevent them from calling on me again +for counsel; though at first I had feared such a result. I was often in +the family, but not so often as I might have been; nor was I so bold as +I ought to have been. Shall I be able to render up my account of the +intercourse I had with them, in the great day, with joy, or must it be +with grief and shame?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>MY FIRST AMPUTATION.</h3> + + +<p>It is easy in imagination, to be wise, especially at a distance. How +many a surgical operation have I performed <i>on paper</i>; or still oftener, +and with more assurance, in my own brain. The difficulties are much +fewer than in the reality.</p> + +<p>A fine young man came to me, one day, with a crushed thumb. He had been +at work on a wool-carding machine, and through the most inexcusable +carelessness had suffered his thumb to be drawn in. On a careful +examination, I found the wound to be very severe, and, as I believed, +requiring amputation.</p> + +<p>But what could I do? I had no surgical instruments. Young medical men, +in plain country places, are hardly expected to purchase these +conveniences, except perhaps a lancet and the needful instruments for +extracting teeth. I had, however, a keen penknife in my pocket, and +without the smallest formality, I proceeded to separate the mangled +thumb at the joint.</p> + +<p>It was a very painful process, and as I now fully believe, quite an +unnecessary one. But young men are not apt to see things in the same +light with those who have had experience. They are not half as ready to +rely on nature. They are inclined to think art will do every thing; +nature, almost nothing. They frequently love to use the lancet, the +knife, the scalpel, and the trephine. Of this fondness, however, I knew +comparatively little. In the present instance, I simply saw it to be a +doubtful, and as I thought, a hopeless case to attempt to save the +thumb; and therefore, without much reflection, I removed it.</p> + +<p>Now I shall never cease to feel a pang, whenever memory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> calls up this +hasty act, as long as I live. Were life to be protracted to a thousand +years, I should always reproach myself for it. And yet I am not aware +that either the young man himself or his friends ever respected me the +less for it. And so far was I from suffering in the eyes of society at +large, I verily believe I was a gainer by it. But I respected myself +less on account of it. I respect myself less to-day. I am fully +conscious I was too hasty,—that had I waited a little, I might have +been a means of saving his hand without much deformity. Nature, in such +cases, left to herself, will work all but miracles, especially in the +young, and in those who have a sound constitution.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>MILK, AS A REMEDY IN FEVERS.</h3> + + +<p>Early in my practice as a physician I had a patient, a little girl, who, +after having been sick for many weeks with a fever, seemed at length to +become stationary. She was not weak or sick enough to die, and yet she +seemed not strong enough to recover. Her vitality was almost exhausted, +and yet Nature was loth to give up.</p> + +<p>On this young patient, during her long sickness, I had tried a thousand +things, to see if I could not give Nature a "start;" but all to no +purpose. The wheels would not move. She would either vomit up every +thing I gave her, or it would pass away as into a reservoir, unchanged. +There appeared to be, I repeat, no vital action in the system.</p> + +<p>To check the vomiting or prevent it, I had tried various measures, both +external and internal. I had used warm applications to her stomach, both +dry and moist. I had tried frictions of the skin and fomentations of the +abdomen, both simple and medicated. Electricity I believe I had not +used. Cheerful conversation, music to some extent, and the society of +pleasant faces had all been invoked. Still there she was, on her bed. It +seemed next to impossible for her "chariot" to go either backward or +forward.</p> + +<p>One day she asked for some milk. In an instant I determined to try it. +So I took a teaspoonful of this fluid, warm from the animal, and gave it +to her, only requiring her to swallow it very slowly. She not only +obeyed me, but appeared to relish it. Nor was there any nausea +afterward, nor any evidence of evil effects or evil tendencies.</p> + +<p>At the end of four hours, I gave her another teaspoonful of milk, in the +same way and with similar effects. At the end of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> four hours more, +another was given; and thus onward. In twenty-four hours I was able to +increase, slightly, the dose. All this while there was no stomach +sickness, in the smallest degree. In three or four days, she could bear +a table-spoonful of the "new medicine," every four hours, or a quantity +equal to two or three ounces a day. In a week or ten days, she could +take nearly half a gill at once, and had gained considerable strength. +She recovered in the end, though her recovery was very slow.</p> + +<p>But I had hardly used the milk three days, before I began to be +denounced as an almost insane man, especially by those who were wont to +set themselves up as the arbiters of public opinion, and who lived too +remotely to witness the good effects of the course I was pursuing. The +family, of course, though they disapproved of what I did, could say +nothing against it, especially as it afforded the only ground of hope of +recovery. The whole public mind, in that region, was affected by the +belief that milk, in a fever, is heating and dangerous. "What a strange +thing it is," said many an old woman, and not a few young ones, "that +the doctor should give milk to a person sick with a fever! He will +certainly kill the girl before he is through with her. If these young +doctors are determined to make experiments, they ought surely to make +them on themselves, and not on their patients."</p> + +<p>The public complaint involved one serious mistake, else it would have +had the semblance of reason to justify it. As a general fact, milk is +heating in a fever, and is consequently inadmissible. The mistake to +which I allude consisted in the belief that the fever still existed, +when it had wholly passed away and left nothing behind it but debility, +or the consequences of the fever.</p> + +<p>But the evidence that milk did not hurt her, lay, after all, in the +indisputable fact that she improved as soon as she began to use it, and +under its moderate and judicious exhibition entirely recovered her +health. Observe, however, that I do not say it cured her; although I +might make this affirmation with as much confidence as can justly exist +with regard to any thing belonging to the <i>materia medica</i>. All I say +is, that after having<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> hung in suspense for some time, neither growing +better nor appearing likely to do so, she commenced the use of the milk +as aforesaid; and almost as soon as she began to use it she began to be +convalescent, and her improvement went on steadily, till it terminated +in sound health.</p> + +<p>And yet our good friends, up and down the country, who uttered so many +jeremiades about the folly of giving milk to a little girl in a fever, +lived to witness her complete recovery, notwithstanding. She is now a +mother in our New England Israel, and I believe a very healthy one.</p> + +<p>Whether I would venture to pursue exactly the same course in the same +circumstances, were I to live my life over again, is not quite certain. +And yet I certainly think it not only safe, but desirable in such cases, +to do something. Why, I have occasionally, in circumstances of +convalescence from fever, given things which, in themselves considered, +are much more objectionable than a little milk, and with the most +perfect success. I have even given pork, cabbage, cheese, and beans. It +is true, I have been compelled to exercise a good deal of care in these +cases, with regard to quantity. That which in the quantity of half a +pound might destroy life, might in the quantity of half an ounce, be the +one thing needful to the salvation, physically, of a valuable member of +society.</p> + +<p>A man in New Haven County, in Connecticut, some fifty years ago, was for +a long time suspended, as it were, between this world and the next, in +consequence of being left in great debility after a long and dangerous +fever. For several weeks, in fact, it was scarcely guessed, except in +the softest whisper, whether the slightest movement or change in his +system might not precipitate him at once into the eternal world. In this +perilous condition, he one day asked for sweet cider, just from the +press. His attendants very properly and naturally hesitated; but the +physician, when he arrived and was made acquainted with his request, +immediately said, "Yes; give him a teaspoonful of good, clean, sweet +cider, every two hours." The cider was given, according to the +commandment, and appeared to have a restorative effect. The man +recovered in a reasonable time, and is, I believe, alive to this day.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<h3>THE VIRTUES OF PUMPKIN-SEED TEA.</h3> + + +<p>Physicians are sometimes compelled by the force of circumstances, to +visit the poor as well as the rich; albeit, they expect, so far as mere +pecuniary compensation is concerned, that they are to have "their labor +for their pains." They know well that honesty here, if nowhere else, is +the best policy. Dr. Cullen, who became, as is well known, a giant in +the profession, first attracted public attention from the act that he +was often seen coming out of the hovels of the poor.</p> + +<p>My own lot for several years was to labor <i>chiefly</i> for the poor. In a +region where it had been customary for a medical man who had the whole +control of the business to charge one thousand dollars a year, my +charges scarcely exceeded three hundred. A few of the wealthy employed +me, it is true, but not all; while I had all the poor. Indeed, it is +among the poor, as a general rule, that sickness is most frequent and +prevalent, not to say fatal.</p> + +<p>In one of these poor families, on a certain occasion, I had a long +campaign and a hard one. First, I was obliged to travel a great distance +to see them; secondly, I had a very severe disease to encounter; +thirdly, there were several patients in the house; and the family, +usually unprovided with sufficient space for a free circulation of the +air, was still more incommoded when sick. Fourthly, the mistress of the +house was exceedingly ignorant; and ignorance in a mother is, of itself, +almost enough to insure the destruction of all patients over whom she +has control.</p> + +<p>My chief source of trouble, in the present instance, was the injudicious +conduct of the mother to the family; for all else could have been borne. +She was almost incessantly trying to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> do something over and above what I +had ordered or recommended. The neighbors, almost as weak as herself, +would come in and say: "Why don't your doctor give such or such a thing? +Mr. Blarney was sick exactly like Samuel, and they gave him a certain +powder and he got right up in a very few days." This would usually be +quite sufficient to make Mrs. ——very unhappy, at least till she had +again seen me.</p> + +<p>Among the sick members of her family, was a daughter of about fifteen +years of age. For this daughter, in particular, more than for the son +Samuel, the good matrons of the neighborhood had their thousand +remedies; and they regarded them all as infallible. With these, their +favorite notions and doses, they were continually filling the ears of +Mrs. ——.</p> + +<p>One day, when I had been the usual round of the family, and given all +needful directions for the day, Mrs. —— came to me and said: "Doctor, +what do you think would be the effect of a little pumpkin-seed tea on my +daughter Eunice? Do you think it would hurt her?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no; I suppose not," I said. "But for what purpose would you give +her pumpkin-seed tea? Is she not doing as well as could be expected? And +if so, is it not desirable to let well enough alone?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure she is doing very well," said Mrs. ——; "and I do not know +but every thing is just as it should be. We certainly have great +confidence in your treatment. But she is so feeble it seems as if +something might be given which would make her gain strength faster. Why, +she is very weak, doctor! Mrs. Gay and several others have thought a +little pumpkin-seed tea might give her strength; but I do not like to +order any thing new without first consulting you."</p> + +<p>I did not object to the pumpkin-seed tea, <i>administered in great +moderation</i>. I did not say as I ought boldly to have said: "I shall be +obliged, as your physician, at least till you choose to dismiss me, to +pursue the course I have marked out for myself, since I shall have to +bear the responsibility." In my modesty and even diffidence, I preferred +to let the ignorant friends of the young woman dabble with this +comparatively inoffensive article,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> rather than with something worse. +Besides, I wished to have no clandestine movements, and had already +rejected so many proposals to give this or that medicament, that I dared +not do it longer. "Oh, yes," said I, "you may give her pumpkin-seed tea; +but give it in moderation."</p> + +<p>The pumpkin-seed tea was given for the next twenty-four hours, I +believe, with great exactness. But as there was no obvious or immediate +advantage from using it during that time, it shared the fate which might +have been expected. Like the wad in the child's pop-gun, which some new +wad soon and effectually expels, the pumpkin-seed tea was thrown aside, +and some other infallible cure proposed in its stead.</p> + +<p>Now, reader, do not suppose I deemed it at all derogatory to medical +authority that pumpkin-seed tea should be proposed by a weak and silly +mother for a darling daughter. Such a feeling as that would have placed +me on the same level of human folly that she herself occupied. On the +contrary, a medical man of any considerable experience among the sick +and the friends of the sick, should think himself exceedingly fortunate +when nothing worse is suggested by ignorance for his patients than +<i>pumpkin-seed tea</i>!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<h3>BROKEN LIMBS AND INTEMPERANCE.</h3> + + +<p>Wrestling for amusement, in the region where I practised medicine, was a +very common occurrence, and certainly had its advantages. But there was +one drawback upon its excellence, except to physicians. It involved a +good deal of bone-breaking. One famous wrestler with whom I was well +acquainted, broke, for his neighbors, an arm and a collar-bone; and in +the end almost broke his own neck. He certainly injured it to an extent +from which there was never an entire recovery. I shall mention him in +another place.</p> + +<p>For more or fewer of these broken bones from wrestling, I was called on +to prescribe. One case in particular may be worth a few moments' +attention, especially as it brings with it certain medical confessions.</p> + +<p>I was sent for one evening, about nine o'clock, to visit a young man who +had been injured, as it was said, by wrestling. On my arrival, I found +him in great distress. He had delayed sending for aid so long that there +was much inflammation, and consequent heat, swelling, tenderness, and +pain.</p> + +<p>It was not easy, at first, to ascertain the exact character of the +fractures; but on inquiry and examination, it appeared that while the +patient was resting nearly or quite his whole weight on the fractured +leg, his antagonist had struck or tripped with his foot so violently as +to fracture both bones a little way above the ankle.</p> + +<p>It was rather a trying-case to me—for as yet I was, in the art of +surgery, a mere tyro. But it was a case which would not admit of much +delay; for the inflammation, already sufficiently great, was rapidly +increasing. Nor would it do long to hesitate from mere modesty. I was +among a class of people,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> who would, as I well knew, construe modesty, +even though it should chance to be, as sometimes it is, an accompaniment +of true science, into sheer ignorance; and this would deprive me, as a +physician, of my principal lever. For who can lift up the down-fallen +without having their full confidence.</p> + +<p>But I must explain. My patient with the fractured leg, though not in the +usual acceptation of the term a drunkard, was, nevertheless, in the +habit of drinking more or less of ardent spirit; and there were not +wanting those who believed he was pretty well heated with liquor at the +time his leg was broken. But, however this may have been, his frequent +and excessive use of spirituous liquors had rendered his blood +exceedingly impure; and I could not help shrinking, at first, from the +task of having charge of him. Yet, it was a war from which there was no +honorable discharge. There was no other surgeon within a reasonable +distance, and why should I refuse to do my best for him? Somebody must +assist him; and though the case was a troublesome one, why should I not +take my share of troublesome cases among the rest?</p> + +<p>There was another consideration. As he was poor, any thing like +reluctance would have been construed into a willingness to neglect him +on account of his poverty—a suspicion from which I should, at that +time, have shrunk as readily as from the charge of robbery or murder.</p> + +<p>But his associates were worse than he; and, with the exception of his +own immediate relations, not an individual would be likely to call on or +proffer him aid who was not half or two thirds of the time steeped in +spirits. Has the surgeon or physician, in such circumstances, much +reason to hope? And what is the hope of his patient? Can he reasonably +expect, even with the aid of a skilful surgeon, ever to have a good leg?</p> + +<p>However, I did my duty, according to my best knowledge. I had the man +laid in a proper position, then placed the divided bones as nearly in +their natural position as possible, and bound them. I confess, here, to +very great ignorance. Moreover, I repeat, it was a difficult case. And +yet I think I succeeded very well for a beginner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Having properly placed the fractured bones and detained them there by +suitable means, I gave due orders concerning the patient's management +and treatment. I was particularly careful to interdict all stimulating +or indigestible food, and all drink but water. My directions were +written down with great care, and the strictest charge was given to his +friends and family to see that they were faithfully regarded.</p> + +<p>But, alas, for the best person in the world with such attendants! +Whenever his wife took care of him, things went on very well; but in +other instances, almost every thing went wrong. His attendants gave him +rum, opium, laudanum, or almost any thing that he called for. It is +true—and I mention it to his credit—that he was often rather moderate +in his use of interdicted articles; but then he took just about enough +of these unnatural or extra stimulants, to prevent the healing process +from going forward as fast as in a man of only thirty years might have +been expected.</p> + +<p>Instead of being on his feet in a couple of months or so, he lay on his +bed three months or more. And then, instead of having a good leg, it was +not merely slightly crooked, but half an inch too short. And then, in +addition,—and what was very hard to endure,—he charged the whole blame +of its imperfection on the surgeon, and insisted that it was not "set" +right!</p> + +<p>Now, while I confess to much awkwardness, and to the possibility that +the limb was not managed as well as it might have been, I must maintain, +notwithstanding, that such a charge was wholly misplaced and even +gratuitous. Had he employed the best surgeon in the world, and had the +leg received the best possible attention, it could not have been kept in +its proper place with so much distilled spirits in the house, and so +many slaves of the bottle! One might almost as well expect a leg to heal +in the nether pit. Though I have never said, either by way of +retaliating the abuse or otherwise, that his punishment was richly +merited, I <i>might</i> have said so. A man is hardly entitled to good health +and a good frame who keeps such company as he did, whether in sickness +or in health. God has so connected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> law and penalty, that he who should +complain of the penalty would but insult the law given.</p> + +<p>Many cases of petty surgery as well as of severe and complicated +disease, fell to my lot, which embarrassed me in a manner not unlike the +foregoing; though in no one did I suffer quite so much from +misrepresentation as in this. For at least twenty years, to my certain +knowledge, my patient took pains to speak of me in terms of reproach, +and to say that his leg was set badly; and all without the slightest +evidence. I do not positively aver, I again say, that the surgery in the +case was faultless; but whether it was so or not, neither he nor any +living individual could know, unless it were a more skilful surgeon than +myself; and no such surgeon, I am sure, ever saw him during the time I +was in attendance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<h3>DYING FROM MERE FILTHINESS.</h3> + + +<p>The family of a wealthy farmer came under my hands, as physician, one +autumn, in circumstances peculiarly painful and trying. Several of them +had been taken suddenly and severely sick, and one or two were almost +dead before they were fairly aroused to a sense of danger. They lived, +however, quite remote from any village, and were strongly prejudiced +against both physicians and medicine. But a fearful foe, in the shape of +typhoid dysentery, now assailed them, and handled them so roughly that +they laid aside their prejudices for the moment, and cried aloud for +help.</p> + +<p>I was soon on the spot, but, oh, what a scene presented itself! As I +have more than intimated, two of the family were already beyond hope. +Others seemed likely to die. What was to be done for them, as I saw +plainly, must be done quickly. On nearly every countenance I met with, +both within the family and beyond its precincts, were the marks of +consternation, and on some, of despair.</p> + +<p>In these circumstances—for desperate cases require a desperate +remedy—I sought the counsels of an older physician. He came immediately +and took a survey of the dreadful field of slaughter. On retiring with +him for consultation, he immediately said; "There must be some local +cause or causes for all this. Have you," he added, "been into the +cellar?" When I replied in the negative, he said, "Then we must go there +immediately."</p> + +<p>On speaking to the lady of the house, who was among the sick, by the way +of asking permission, she objected, and with a good deal of promptitude +and spirit. However, she at length yielded, and we made a thorough +examination. The results of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> this examination were such as to confirm +our suspicions. "We need not search further for the causes of a deadly +disease," said Dr. B., and I thought so too.</p> + +<p>I have said already that the family was wealthy; but wealth need not +include negligence, and still more filth. It was now September; and I am +quite of opinion that the cellar had not been cleaned in one year, +perhaps not in two. I had seen many farmers' cellars before, but I had +never seen such an one as this. Nor do I believe my consulting physician +ever had, though he was some twenty years older in medical practice than +myself. Nor am I certain that what I may state will appear to you wholly +reliable.</p> + +<p>In the first place there were, in abundance, cabbage leaves and stumps +in a semi-putrid state. Next there were decayed potatoes, turnips, +beets, and apples. Then there were in various parts of the cellar +remnants of cider and vinegar, and cider lees—the latter in a most +offensive condition. Finally, there were remnants of barrels of beef and +pork, in a bad state—to say nothing of other casual filth—the whole +contributing to such a stench as I had never before perceived in a +cellar.</p> + +<p>The old physician who accompanied me had said, "We need not go farther;" +but our determination was, on full and mature reflection, to know the +worst and the whole, and we governed ourselves accordingly.</p> + +<p>Close to one corner of the kitchen was the well, the water in which was +very low, and near to that the sink. And if the contents of the sink did +not find their way, from day to day, into the well, thus adding impurity +to putridity, it must have been in virtue of some unknown law which +stood opposed to the great law of specific gravity and attraction. It is +true that many speak of the earth as having a <i>cleansing</i> power in such +cases; but I know of no power which it possesses of cleaning sink water, +while the latter is passing only five or six feet through it. The +coarser parts may be strained out, but the essence must remain.<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<p>But our work was not yet finished. The vault, greatly neglected, was not +far from the well; and so of the pigsty. Nor was it easy to resist the +conviction that there was an underground communication between them. +Then, finally, the house instead of standing on an elevation, greater or +less,—a very common mode of building in New England,—stood in a sort +of concavity, which contained also the barn and barnyard and +woodpile;—connected with both of which was a large amount of decayed +and decaying animal and vegetable matter.</p> + +<p>Now after such a review as this, he who could remain in doubt with +regard to the cause of existing disease, especially on its assuming the +form of bowel complaint with typhoid tendencies, must be much more +ignorant of the laws of health and disease than I was. In fact the signs +were unmistakable.</p> + +<p>We immediately made our report to the heads of the family, and +recommended a most thorough cleansing, at once. It was easy to see that +we gave great offence; indeed we had anticipated such a result. But we +were not at all intimidated. We insisted on a work of immediate +expurgation, which was finally effected, only we could not put pure +water into the well. But we could and did require that the well water +should not be used for any thing except washing clothes.</p> + +<p>The result was a decided and almost immediate improvement in the +condition of the family, except the two already spoken of, and a very +young child. These three died. Some of the rest lingered for weeks, and +one or two for months; but they finally recovered.</p> + +<p>It is worthy of remark, moreover, that of the people of the +neighborhood, though they had been excessively frightened and had not at +first dared to come near the house, at least without holding their +breath, not a person among them sickened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> The disease began and ended +over the foul cellar I have mentioned; nor has a similar disease ever +since broken out there. The fair presumption is, that they have never +since suffered such foul accumulations to remain through the hot season, +on their premises.</p> + +<p>My honest and truly honorable course of conduct, in this instance, cost +me something. Though I was a means of saving their lives, the survivors +never thanked me for the exposure I made of their slovenliness. Perhaps +I was wrong in reporting it abroad; but it was next to impossible to +conceal the facts; and I, for once, did not attempt it. Physicians +sometimes thus stand between the living and the dead, and must expect to +give offence. They are, however, in duty bound to keep the secrets of +their patients' faults as long as they can, unless the greater good of +the public demands an exposition.</p> + +<p>But while I lost reputation in this particular family, I have not a +doubt that I gained a strong hold, by this adventure, on the public mind +and feelings. In truth, despite of even some trifling errors, I deserved +it. I had, moreover, during the adventure, acquired a good deal of +practical knowledge, of which, in the progress of my course as a medical +man, I was glad to avail myself.</p> + +<p>This was doubtless an extreme case of disease from filthiness; but cases +of the same general character are quite numerous. I have sometimes +wished the public could have a history of these cases. There is an +immense amount of neglect in the departments of cleanliness and +ventilation; and the consequent suffering in the various forms of +disease, is in similar degree and proportion.</p> + +<p>I will conclude this chapter with a single anecdote, which, were it +necessary, could be substantiated by a very great number of living +witnesses.</p> + +<p>Some fifteen or twenty years ago, a severe disease was accustomed to +visit one of our New England factory villages, and to carry off more or +fewer of its inhabitants. So regular and certain were its yearly visits +and ravages, that not a few were disposed to regard it as a sort of +necessary evil, or, perhaps, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> a divine infliction. At length a very +shrewd old gentleman told the people that the troublesome visitor was of +human and not of divine origin; and that if they would attend properly +to their cellars, sleeping-rooms, wells, etc., it would no more be heard +of. At first, they were disposed to laugh at him; but the matter was +talked of and agitated, till a work of general purgation was actually +attempted and finally accomplished. The disease has never re-appeared. +Was all this the result of mere accident? Do our diseases spring out of +the ground? Are they the result of chance or hap-hazard? or, are they +not the heaven-appointed penalties of transgression?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> Farmers, in former times, while making cider, were very +slovenly. When I observed a large amount of filth adhering to their +boots and shoes as they carried the pumice from the vat to the press, I +thought of the worms, insects, and dust, which were ground up and +incorporated with the mass, I sometimes expressed surprise. "Oh," said +they, "the cider will work itself clean!" If so, I thought, and still +think, it must be by the operation of some law not yet discovered. It +may work itself <i>clear</i>, perhaps; but to work itself <i>clean</i>, is quite +another matter.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<h3>TAKING THE FEVER.</h3> + + +<p>A large family, not much more careful of their habits or cleanly about +their premises than the family alluded to in the foregoing chapter, had +sickened one autumn, and one of them had died. Anxious to save the rest, +I again acted as physician and nurse both, and effected my object; or, +at least, appeared to do so. The rest of my patients ultimately +recovered.</p> + +<p>But while thus watching these patients, by night and day, standing in +the very front of the battle, I suddenly sickened. The circumstances, as +nearly as I can recollect them, were the following:——</p> + +<p>Among the sick of this afflicted family was one unmarried man of rather +eccentric and very unsociable habits, and exceedingly negligent both of +his person and dress. His linen, and I think also his bed-clothes, were +hardly changed once a month; at least as long as he was well. And then +he had, of course, extended the same neglect to his sick chamber. Added +to this, moreover, was a species of <i>necessity</i> at this juncture; for so +much distressed were the family, and so difficult was it to procure aid +in the neighborhood, that a part of the neglect to which our old +bachelor was subjected seemed unavoidable.</p> + +<p>I took notice of the neglect, spoke of it repeatedly, and labored +assiduously to correct the evil. But the case seemed an almost forlorn +one. I was morally obliged, as I then felt, to do a thousand things for +him that usually fall to the lot of nurses and assistants. In some +instances, I passed even whole nights in the family, in attendance on +him and the other sick persons.</p> + +<p>My task was the more severe from the fact that a similar fever was +prevailing in other parts of the town, and my labors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> beyond the +precincts of this family were exceedingly fatiguing and severe. In +truth, I was, in the end, greatly overworked and debilitated, and my +system most admirably prepared for the reception of disease.</p> + +<p>For various reasons, some of which, have already been named, I often +assisted in turning my bachelor-patient in his foul bed. It is true the +process was so offensive that I avoided it whenever I could; but on +occasions, I yielded to the pressure of necessity.</p> + +<p>One night, when I was greatly fatigued and exhausted, and at the bottom +of my condition,—utterly unfit for exertion, even in a pure +atmosphere,—I was stooping over Mr. V., to turn him in his bed, when I +suddenly felt a sensation like that of receiving a blow externally on +the chest and stomach. The thought struck me as quickly as the imaginary +blow did—have I not taken the disease? I knew the laws of contagion; +the only question was whether any contagion had been generated. My +opinion was to the contrary; nevertheless, I could not wholly suppress +my fears.</p> + +<p>A sensation of oppression which followed the imaginary blow, soon +gradually passed away, though I felt, each succeeding day, more and more +debilitated. Many a resolution was made to leave my patients, so far as +personal manual care was concerned, and be much more than I had been, in +the open air, though it was only made for a time—to be broken. At +length, however, principle prevailed over sympathy and inclination, and +I did as I ought to have done long before. It was, however, rather late, +for the die was already cast. I was taken sick, and the symptoms of my +disease were precisely like those of Mr. V.</p> + +<p>Perceiving now, most clearly, my condition, and that I was engaged in a +war from which there could be no discharge, I made preparation for a +long and severe sickness. First, I calmly and deliberately adjusted all +my domestic concerns of a pecuniary kind, and made such arrangements as +would, in case of my demise, render every thing intelligible. Then, in +the second place, I made up my mind to submit, as cheerfully as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +could, to my condition. I determined to keep quiet, and not indulge for +a moment in any undue anxiety. I employed a physician,—my old +master—but steadfastly, and almost obstinately determined not to take +much medicine;—nor was there much prescribed.</p> + +<p>My disease proved to be much milder than was expected; but it had its +regular course. I never wholly lost my muscular strength or my appetite. +While I was sick, several of my nearest friends and patrons sickened in +a similar way, only more severely; and one or two of them died. On my +recovery, however, or about the same time, the most of them began also +to recover, and the disease in general abated.</p> + +<p>Now, when I came to reflect coolly and carefully on the whole affair, I +could not help perceiving that I richly deserved all I suffered. It was +the just penalty of transgression. I had been fully and repeatedly +warned not to watch with my patients, as those who turn back to Chapter +XXIII, and those too who remember its contents, will perceive. It was +fit, therefore, that I should feel the rod, even if I could not kiss the +hand that had appointed it. The only wonder with me now is, that my +punishment was not more severe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<h3>BLESSINGS OF CIDER AND CIDER BRANDY.</h3> + + +<p>Some of these blessings have been alluded to in Chapter XXXVI. But the +subject is one of too much importance to be left in an unfinished state, +and I have concluded to make it the principal topic of a separate +chapter.</p> + +<p>A man came to me, one day, with sundry grievous complaints about his +head and stomach. It was easy to see, at once, that they were not of +mushroom growth, and that they could not be removed either in an hour or +a day. However, I did the best I could with him, and charged him to +follow, implicitly, my directions, which he promised faithfully to do. I +told him, even, that he was in danger of a severe disease, but +counselled him to do his utmost to escape it, if possible.</p> + +<p>He was, in the first place, a New England or Yankee farmer. Not quite +satisfied with the products of his farm from the labors of the day, he +coupled with them the night labors of managing a saw-mill and a +distillery. And not satisfied with even these, he sometimes burned +charcoal, which also involved more or less of nocturnal labor. In truth, +these employments and avocations kept him up a great many nights during +a considerable portion of the year, and were evidently wearing him out +prematurely; for, though less than forty years of age, he had the +appearance of being fifty or sixty.</p> + +<p>This severe tasking of his system, had led him greatly into temptation. +Not only had he acquired the habit of chewing tobacco, as a solace in +his seclusion and toil, but also of drinking very freely of cider and +cider brandy; the last two of which, as might naturally be inferred from +what has been said, he was accustomed to manufacture in large +quantities. He was not a great eater, though I have no doubt he ate too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +much. But he did not take time to eat—he did not masticate any thing; +almost every thing was swallowed in masses, and washed down with tea, +coffee, or cider. Then, lastly and finally, he ate, as it were, by the +job, when he <i>did</i> eat; for his meals were very irregular and sometimes +very infrequent.</p> + +<p>Another thing should be noticed. His cider and perhaps his tobacco, +having leagued together, took away his appetite. Cider, as is well +known, practically and in a gradual way, takes away the appetite, and so +does coffee. Many a farmer will tell you that it is a matter of economy +to give his laborers cider or coffee, since they will not eat so much. +It is highly probable that brandy, and indeed all extra stimulants, have +the same appetite-destroying effect.</p> + +<p>And as the result of his various irregularities and abuses, his +digestive and nervous systems had become very much deranged and +disordered, and I could hardly help foreboding evil concerning him. I +prescribed for him as well as I could, and requested him to call on me +in two or three days, and "report progress."</p> + +<p>On the next day but one, I was summoned to his bedside. My medicine had +indeed appeared to afford him a little temporary relief, but it was only +temporary. He was now much worse than ever before. I prescribed again; +but it was with similar effect. Nature, somewhat relieved, as I then +vainly imagined, seemed disposed to rally, but was unable. Every +successive effort to rally, showed more and more clearly how much she +had been crippled. At least she seemed to succumb either to the +treatment or the disease, which last became in the end quite formidable.</p> + +<p>But though Nature had yielded, apparently vanquished, she still made +occasional faint efforts, every two or three days, to regain the +supremacy, or, in other words, to set things right; and sometimes we +were led to indulge in hope. But the remissions of disease and of +suffering were only temporary, and were succeeded, in every instance, by +a worse condition of things than before. I called for sage medical +counsel, but all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> to no permanent purpose. Downward he tended, step by +step, and no human power or skill seemed likely to arrest his progress.</p> + +<p>In this downward course his constitution held out—for he was by nature +exceedingly tenacious of life—till about the twenty-third day, when the +vital forces began to retreat. He died on the twenty-fifth.</p> + +<p>One practical but general error deserves to be noticed, for want of a +better place, in this very connection. Notwithstanding the great +difficulty of convincing a person who habitually uses extra stimulants, +narcotics, or any medicinal agents, all the way from rum, opium, and +tobacco, down to tea, coffee, and saleratus, that they are injuring him +at all, as long as he does not feel very ill, yet it ought to be clearly +and fully known that every one who is thus addicted to unnatural habits, +and <i>being</i> thus addicted is seized with disease of any kind and from +any cause whatever, is certain to have that disease with greater +severity than if his habits had been, from the first, perfectly correct +or normal. Nor is this all. Medical aid, whenever invoked under these +circumstances, is more questionable as to its good tendencies. No +medical man of any skill or observation but must feel, in such a case, +most painfully, the terrible uncertainty of that treatment of the living +machine which is quite enough so when the habits have been most +favorable, by being most correct.</p> + +<p>One caution of quite another kind may be interposed here. My patient +above had neglected to call on me for several days in the beginning of +his disease, under the very general impression of ignorant people, that +if he called a physician he should certainly be severely sick; for if he +was not already very sick, any efforts to prevent disease would only +serve to make him so.</p> + +<p>Now this is, as a general rule, a very great mistake. It would be much +more safe to call a physician very early, than to wait till Nature is so +much embarrassed and even crippled that we can place very little +reliance on her efforts. Worse still is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> it for the physician, when +called late, to load down the enfeebled system with medicine by way of +atoning for past neglects. Thousands have made the mistake here alluded +to, and have thus been a means of hastening on a fatal termination of +the disease. It is not by any means improbable that such was the result +in the foregoing instance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + +<h3>THE INDIAN DOCTOR.</h3> + + +<p>A little child about two years of age, severely afflicted with bowel +complaint, came under my care during the first year of my medical +practice, and proved the source of much difficulty.</p> + +<p>She was the child of a mother who had been trained to delicacies, in the +usual fashionable way, and who had begun to carry out the same wretched +course of education in her own family. In addition to a generally wrong +treatment, the child had been indulged, for many weeks before I was +called, with a large amount of green, or at least very unripe, fruit.</p> + +<p>It was at a season of the year when both children and adults were +suffering from bowel complaints much more than at any other; but as the +hot days and nights were expected soon to give way to the cooler and +longer nights of October, I fastened my hopes of the child's final +recovery, very largely, on the natural recuperative effects of the +autumnal season. I did not attempt to give much medicine. My reliance +was almost wholly on keeping up what I was wont to call a good +centrifugal force, or in keeping the skin—the great safety valve of the +system—in proper and healthful activity. Much that I ordered was in the +way of bathing, local and general, especially warm bathing.</p> + +<p>The parents of the child were among my most confidential, not to say +influential, friends. If there was a family within the whole of my +medical circuit with whom my word was law, it was this. Yet after all +they were ignorant, especially of themselves; and such people always +were and always will be credulous. They would open their ears, not only +to the thousand and one insinuations of malice and envy, which at times +are ventured against a young physician,—especially if he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> is going +ahead, and as they say "getting rich" too fast, and thus securing more +than they believe to be his share of public popularity;—but to the +still larger number, if possible, of weak criticisers in his practice.</p> + +<p>My friend's residence, moreover, was in a neighborhood contiguous to +quacks and quackery, in the pretensions to which there were many +believers. These dupes of ignorance and assurance were ever and anon +filling the heads of my "patrons" with their stories of wonderful cures, +in cases almost <i>exactly like that of my own little patient</i>, and urging +the poor half-distracted parents to try something new—either medicine +or physician. They would appeal to their feelings by asking them how +they could be willing, as parents,—however great might be their +confidence in me as a physician,—to let a darling child lie, day after +day, and yet make no extra effort to save it.</p> + +<p>Their appeals were not wholly ineffective; indeed, what else could have +been expected? My first suspicion of any thing radically wrong, arose +from a decidedly unexpected effect from a little medicine I had +previously ordered. It seemed quite clear to my mind that a neutralizing +agent had been at work somehow, by design or otherwise. And yet I shrunk +from making an inquiry. In the end, however, I found myself morally +compelled to do so. The results were very nearly what I had feared, and +what might have been expected.</p> + +<p>One of the <i>reliabilities</i> of the wise ones of the neighborhood went by +the name of the "Indian" doctor. Whether in addition to a very little +Indian blood he was half or three-fourths Spanish, Portuguese, or +Canadian, I never knew, for I never took pains to inquire. But he had +Indian habits. He was at times intemperate and vicious. No one who knew +him would have trusted him with a sixpence of his own honest earnings, +at least any longer than he was within his sight or reach. Yet many +people would and did trust him with their own lives and the lives of +their children.</p> + +<p>There was one redeeming circumstance in connection with the history of +this Indian doctor. He would never prescribe for the sick when in a +state of intoxication. He knew, in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> respect, his own weakness. But +then it must be confessed he was not often free from intoxication. He +was almost always steeped in cider or spirits. He was seldom, if ever, +properly a sane or even a steady man.</p> + +<p>On pressing the parents of the sick child more closely than usual, they +frankly owned that though they had not of themselves called in the +Indian doctor, they had permitted Mrs. A. B. to invite him in, and had +permitted the child to take a little of his medicine.</p> + +<p>The secret was now fully revealed, and it was no longer a matter of +wonder with me, why poison did not work well against poison. The wonder +was why, together, we had not killed the poor child. And yet it was by +no means certain that the Indian's prescription was of much force, save +the few drops of alcohol which it contained, for all his medicine was to +be taken in alcohol.</p> + +<p>I stated to the parents the probable issues—that unless the child +possessed more than ordinary tenacity of life, it must ultimately sink +under the load it was compelled to sustain. But to our great +surprise—certainly my own—it survived; and, though it was suspended +for weeks between life and death, it finally recovered.</p> + +<p>The most mortifying circumstance of all was, that this miserable mongrel +of a man had the credit of curing a child that only survived because it +was tough and strong enough to resist the destructive tendency of two +broadside fires—mine and his own. But medical men are compelled to put +up with a great many things which, of course, they would not prefer. +They must take the world as it is—as the world does the corps of +physicians. They must calculate for deductions and drawbacks; and what +they calculate on, they are pretty sure to experience. But, like other +men with other severe trials, they have their reward.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + +<h3>DYING OF OLD AGE, AT FIFTY-EIGHT.</h3> + + +<p>Within the usual limits assigned me in the daily routine of my +profession, but on its very verge, there resided an individual of much +general reputation for worth of character, but of feeble constitution +and cachetic or deranged habits, for whom as well as for his numerous +family I had frequently prescribed.</p> + +<p>He was at length, one autumn, unusually reduced in health and strength, +and I was again sent for. There was evidently very little of real +disease about him, and yet there was very great debility. All his bodily +senses were greatly deranged, and all his intellectual faculties +benumbed. His internal machinery—his breathing, circulation, and +digestion—was all affected; but it seemed more the result of debility +than any thing else. There was no violence or excess of action anywhere, +except a slight increase of the circulation.</p> + +<p>The man was about fifty-eight years of age. Had he been ninety-eight or +even eighty-eight, I should have had no difficulty in understanding his +case. I should have said to myself, "Nature, nearly exhausted by the +wear and tear of life, is about to give way;" or in other words, "The +man is about to did (?die) of mere old age." But could he have been thus +worn out at the age of fifty-eight?</p> + +<p>I gave him gentle, tonic medicine, but it did not work well. Without +increasing his strength, it increased his tendencies to fever. Yet, as I +well knew, depletion would not answer in a case like this, whether of +bleeding, blistering, or cathartics. In these circumstances, I contrived +to while away the time in a routine of that negative character which, in +true medical language, means laboriously doing nothing.</p> + +<p>He was visited about twice a week. I heard patiently all his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +complaints, and endeavored to be patient under all my disappointments, +for disappointments I had to encounter at nearly every step. No active +treatment whatever would have the general effect I desired and intended. +If I gave him but a single dose of elixir paregoric for his nervousness, +it only added, nine times in ten, to the very woes it was intended to +relieve. My policy—and I fully believe it was the only true policy—was +to leave him to himself and to Nature, as much as possible.</p> + +<p>Though I have spoken here of what I regarded as the true policy in the +case then under my care, yet, after all, the truest course would have +been to call for consultation some wiser head than my own. Another +individual, even though he were no wiser than I, might have aided me +most essentially, in compliance with, and in confirmation of, the good +old adage—"Two eyes see more than one."</p> + +<p>Why, then, did I not call on some inquiring and highly experienced +physician? It was not that I was too proud to do so, nor that I was too +jealous of my reputation. It was not that I feared any evil result to +myself. It was rather because I did not, at first, think it really +necessary; and then, subsequently, when I supposed it to be really +needful, I feared my patient would grudge the expense. This fear, by the +way, was grounded in something more than mere conjecture. The proposal +had been practically made, and had been rejected.</p> + +<p>In this general way things went on for some time. The friends grew +uneasy, as they should have done; and one or two of them, now that it +was almost too late, spoke of another physician as counsel. My own +readiness and more than readiness for this seemed to have the effect to +quiet the patient, though it had the contrary effect on his friends. +They appeared to construe my own liberality and the admixture of modesty +and conscientiousness, which were conspicuous in my general behavior, +into self-distrust, and hence began themselves to distrust me.</p> + +<p>The patient's state of mind—for he was a man whose habits of thinking +and feeling approximated very closely to those of the miser—more than +once reminded me of some doggerel verses I have seen, perhaps in an old +almanac, which are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> so pertinent in illustration of the point in my +patient's character which these remarks are intended to expose, that I +have ventured to insert them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The miser Sherdi, on his sick-bed lying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Affrighted, groaning, fainting, wheezing, dying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Expecting every hour to lose his breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enters a Dervise: 'Holy Father, say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As life seems parting from this sinful clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What can preserve me from the jaws of death?'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Sacrifice, dear son, good joints of meat,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lamb and mutton for the priest and poor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, shouldst thou from the Koran lines repeat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those lines might possibly thy health restore,'<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Thank you, good father, you have said enough;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your counsels have already given me ease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now as my sheep are all a great way off,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I'll quote holy our Koran, if you please.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At length my patient began, most evidently, to decline. There were +various marks on him and in him, of approaching dissolution. When +pressed, as I frequently was, to say definitely what the disease +was—that is, to give it a name—under which Mr. —— labored, I only +replied that he was suffering from premature old age. This always +awakened surprise, and led to much and frequent inquiry how it was that +a man of fifty-eight years could be dying of mere old age. My +explanations, whenever attempted,—for sometimes in my pride of +profession I wholly evaded them,—were usually, in substance like the +following:—</p> + +<p>"Mr. —— was feeble by inheritance. He never had that firmness of +constitution which several of his brothers now possess. Then, too, he +was precocious. His body and mind, both of them, came to maturity very +early; which, as you know, always betokens premature decay. Men live +about four times as long, when not cut short by disease, as they are in +reaching maturity. As he was apparently mature at fourteen or fifteen, +he might very naturally be expected to wear out at or before sixty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But then, in addition to this, he has all his lifetime labored too +hard, not only from necessity, but from habit and choice. His ambition, +it is well known, has been unlimited, except by his want of strength to +accomplish. He has only ceased to labor hard when he had strength to +labor no longer, or when it was so dark or so cold or so stormy as to +prevent him.</p> + +<p>"Then of late years he has had the care and anxiety which are almost +inseparable from the work of bringing up a numerous family. It is indeed +true that he has not been called to that severest of all possible trials +pertaining to the family, the pain of seeing that family or any of its +members go materially wrong. Still he has had a world of care; of its +effects none are aware who have not been called to the same forms of +experience.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing more; Mr. —— has, at times, taken a good deal of +medicine: not alcohol, in any of its forms, I admit, but substances +which for the time were, in their effects, almost equally bad for him. +He has used tea immoderately, and even tobacco. His constant smoking has +been very injurious to his nervous system, and along with other things +has, doubtless, greatly hurried on the wheels of life."</p> + +<p>Remarks like these had their intended effect on a few individuals, +especially such of them as were couched in language with which they were +already familiar. On most, however, they fell lifeless and hopeless. +What knew they about precocity and its effects on the after life? In +short, it was quite doubtful then, and is still more doubtful with me +now, whether, on the whole, any thing was gained by attempts at +explanation. For example, when I spoke of my patient being worn out, +prematurely, by overworking, it was asked by one man, "But how is this? +Other men as well as Mr. —— have worked too hard, and brought up large +families, and perhaps taken a great deal of medicine, and smoked a vast +amount of tobacco? Why are they not affected in this way as well as Mr. +——?"</p> + +<p>It was not easy to make current the idea that Mr. —— was about to die +of old age; although partly from conviction, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> partly, also, to +conceal my ignorance, I still endeavored to promulgate it. It was the +only apology I could make for suffering a man to run down and die, +without appearing to those around him to be very sick.</p> + +<p>But he died, after some time, to my infinite mortification and great +regret. I was invited to his funeral, as I was usually to the funerals +of my patients. In this case, however, I contrived to be absent. So +great was my consciousness of ignorance and so much ashamed was I of my +ill success, that I felt as if the veriest ignoramus would be disposed +to point at me, and to charge me with having been, practically, the +murderer of the much-beloved head of a family, and a worthy and highly +respected member of society. But, whether others would deem me culpable +for my ignorance or not, I could not avoid the pangs of habitual +condemnation.</p> + +<p>There were, I grant, a few extenuating circumstances in the case. One or +two causes existed, of premature decline, on which, in a work like this, +I cannot stop to expatiate. It was also very unfortunate for him that he +was accustomed to look on the dark side of things, and to forebode ills, +where, oftentimes, none existed.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding my former ignorance and doubt, and numerous misgivings, +in cases like the foregoing, I have of late years, on a maturer review, +been obliged very frequently to confirm my earlier decisions. In the +case which has been detailed in this chapter, I have, on the whole, come +to a belief that my first judgment was nearly correct; and that the +patient actually perished, as much as men ever do, of premature old age. +It is, indeed, very possible that had I pursued a different course in +several important particulars, his life might have been prolonged for a +year or two. Men have a tendency to become what they are taken to be; +and many a person has died much sooner for being taken to be near his +end, and treated accordingly. If we would have our patients recover, we +must take for granted that recovery is at least possible.</p> + +<p>In the case above, I believe I lost reputation, in large measure. +Several shrewd people insisted, at the time and long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> afterward, that I +ought to have had medical counsel. Mr. ——, they said, was too good a +man to lose without a more persevering effort to raise him. They charged +me with having got my name up, and having at the same time grown +careless. Had he been properly doctored, they said, from the very first, +they believed he might still have been alive to ornament and bless +society.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + +<h3>DAUGHTERS DESTROYING THEIR MOTHER.</h3> + + +<p>There are, of course, many ways of destroying or killing people. To +kill, with malice aforethought, though sometimes done, is a much less +frequent occurrence than killing in the heat of passion, or by +carelessness; by leading into bad habits, or by the injudicious use of +medicine.</p> + +<p>Then, again, there is such a thing as killing by omitting to keep alive. +Thus we have sins of omission as well as of commission. If I leave a man +in a mill-pond and suffer him to drown, or if I suffer him to take a +dose of arsenic or Prussic acid, when I might, with the utmost ease, or +even with considerable difficulty, prevent it,—is it not, in a +practical sense, to destroy or kill him?</p> + +<p>It is certainly within the wide range of human possibility, that a +daughter may, without bludgeon or pistol, and even without poison, kill +her mother. And it is quite notorious and a plain matter of fact that +many a mother kills her own children. It could be demonstrated that +thousands, if not tens of thousands of children are destroyed every year +by their own mothers; as truly so as if they had received at their hands +a quantity of arsenic. Why, then, may not children sometimes kill their +parents?</p> + +<p>I have known people, in very many instances, kill, in trying to save. I +have even known the medical man do this, as may be seen by turning back +to Chapter XXX. Then, too, I have known the attendants of the sick, +though among their dearest friends, sometimes kill in this very way. In +truth, such killing is not uncommon.</p> + +<p>One of the most painful instances of this last kind of killing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> came +under my own immediate observation, and was in the range of my own +practice.</p> + +<p>I was visiting a sick woman, whose only property lay in three or four +lovely and loving children. Two of these, who were full-grown daughters, +resided in her house and took care of her. She was severely afflicted +with typhoid dysentery. Her daughters in turn watched over her, both by +day and night, and would not suffer her to be left in the care of +anybody else for a single minute. And, in general, their faithfulness +was above all praise.</p> + +<p>One day, however, disliking the appearances of a part of my medicine, +they mutually agreed to throw it into the fire; and the deed was done. +They had supposed it to be calomel, as it had the color and general +appearance of that drug, and to calomel they had a most inveterate and +irreconcilable hatred. It was a hatred, however, which whether well or +ill founded, very extensively prevails.</p> + +<p>At first, I could not help wondering at the results of my supposed doses +of medicine; and indeed it was a long time before I began to suspect the +true cause. For, while I verily believed I was employing the only thing +which could help her,—one which I then thought <i>ought</i> to help her,—I +had the unspeakable mortification of finding her every day growing +worse. What could be the possible cause, I often asked myself, of this +downward tendency?</p> + +<p>While thus perplexed and pained, I accidentally learned that the main +ingredient in my plan of treatment—the main pillar in my fabric—had +been habitually withdrawn by her anxious but injudicious attendants. I +no longer wondered at the threatening symptoms. My only wonder was, that +things had not gone wrong with her at a much more rapid rate.</p> + +<p>The patient continued to sink from day to day, and to become more and +more insensible. The daughters themselves saw her downward tendency, for +it could not be concealed. I did not tell the young women of their error +at first, although I did so afterwards. It was a most painful duty, but +it was one from which I dared not shrink. I hoped and trusted it would +be a means of saving some among the coming generations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>I have never met with either of these daughters since that day—for one +of them, at least, is still living—without blushing for their sake. +They, on their part, appear to be equally affected and agitated. They +almost adored their mother, and yet they inadvertently destroyed her. +She might have perished, it is true, without their aid; but I rather +think she would have slowly recovered.</p> + +<p>Let him that readeth understand: It is extremely hazardous for a second +or third person to change the doses of a physician's medicine, either by +the omission or addition of an ingredient. It would be safer—very much +safer—to omit every thing, and leave the disease wholly to nature. The +true course, however, in all cases, is to follow the prescription of the +physician, to the best of our abilities, or else dismiss him.</p> + +<p>I might pause here a moment to animadvert on the unreasonableness of the +vulgar prejudice which almost everywhere prevails against calomel. That +this drug does great harm, in many instances, is most certain; but that +it does more mischief to the human constitution when in the hands of +judicious practitioners, than some half a dozen articles of the <i>materia +medica</i> I could name, about which complaint is seldom made, remains to +be proved. Let us, if possible, prevent the necessity of using any of +these two-edged weapons, by so living that disease cannot assail us, and +then we shall not, of necessity, be exposed to the danger of medicinal +agents, whether calomel or any thing else.</p> + +<p>My own principal error in relation to this interesting case, consisted +in not telling the attendants of the sick woman, in the plainest +language, what my medicines were and how much, in my own estimation, +depended on their careful and proper exhibition; that if they should +take away or suffer to be taken away, one faggot from the bundle, they +would not only spoil their effect, but might, very probably, turn the +edge of the sword against the very citadel of life itself. But from the +extreme of explaining every thing, in sick families where I was called, +I had passed over to that of explaining nothing. Truth here, as +elsewhere, usually lies midway between extremes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3>POISONING WITH STRAMONIUM.</h3> + + +<p>One of my patients was subject to repeated attacks of rheumatism. He was +by no means a man of good and temperate habits, and never had been so. +And even his rheumatic attacks, though they were now frequently excited +by taking cold, or by a sudden strain, as well as by many other causes +of no considerable magnitude, often had both a foundation or +predisposition in his former and later intemperance.</p> + +<p>Let me here say, most distinctly and unequivocally, even at the risk of +being charged with repetition, that a large proportion of even these +casual or apparently accidental attacks of rheumatism, neuralgia, sick +headache, etc., etc., with which our world—the fashionable part of it, +at least—is half filled, instead of springing out of the ground, or +coming upon us by the special appointment of high Heaven, have their +origin in the intemperance, excess, or licentiousness of somebody. The +cause may lie many years back, and may be almost forgotten; nay, it may +be found in a preceding generation rather than the present. But it lies +somewhere in the range of human agency. "Almighty man," as the poet has +well said, "decrees it." Solomon never uttered a more palpable truth +than when he said: "Because sentence against an evil work is not +executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set +in them to do evil."</p> + +<p>My rheumatic friend sent for me one day, to come and see him in great +haste, for, as the messenger said, he could not long continue in such +suffering. I found him in the greatest distress, and after making the +usual temporary applications, I gave him what I had never given him +before—a pretty full<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> dose of tincture of stramonium. It had, in due +time, its accustomed effect, and I left him, rather prematurely, to +visit another patient in a somewhat distant part of the town, intending, +however, to see him again in the evening.</p> + +<p>But I had not been absent more than an hour, before I was sent for in +post-haste. As soon as possible I hastened to the spot. I found my +patient in a state somewhat peculiar and not easily described. He was +evidently affected by the stramonium; but how, I said to myself, can +this be? I certainly did not give him an overdose. Besides, as I well +knew, the effects, so long as I remained with him, had been decidedly +favorable.</p> + +<p>The mystery was soon revealed. On finding himself much better, soon +after my departure, he had resorted again to the stramonium bottle, +which in my haste and contrary to my usual practice, I had left within +his reach. The result was a degree of delirium that had alarmed his +friends and induced them to send for me.</p> + +<p>By means of careful and persevering management, a partial recovery soon +took place, though a train of incidental evils followed which it is not +necessary here to enumerate. The patient was one of those ignorant and +selfish individuals on whom a permanent cure can rarely be effected.</p> + +<p>This circumstance taught me one important lesson which ought to have +been impressed on my mind long before. It was, not to leave medicine of +any kind within reach of my patients or their friends. In many an +instance, medicine thus left has been taken by others, under the belief +that since it operated favorably in the case for which it had been +prescribed by the physician, it would do so in another case which was +vainly supposed to be just like it, when, in truth, it was not at all +similar.</p> + +<p>To the custom of keeping medicine in the house, of any sort, I am +equally opposed, and for similar reasons. There will generally be time +enough to send for it when its presence is really needed. Such at least +is the fact, ninety-nine times in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> hundred. And as a set-off against +the fact of its being thus useful once in a hundred times, we have to +acknowledge the multiplied dangers to which we are exposed, of using it +without prescription, and to which we are otherwise exposed by having it +constantly before us in our houses.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + +<h3>CURING CANCER.</h3> + + +<p>Theodore, a laborious young man, came to me one day, saying, "I am +afraid I have a cancer on one side of my nose, and I wish you would look +at it." Accordingly I made a careful examination of the sore, taking +care to give him a little pain, and, at the same time, as a most +indispensable ingredient, to look "wondrous wise;" after which the +following conversation, in its essentials, took place between us:—</p> + +<p>"What makes you suspect this sore to be a cancer?"</p> + +<p>"There are various reasons. Many of the neighbors think it to be so. +Then, too, it has a very strong resemblance to the cancer on Mrs. +Miller's lip. And then, again, it burns and itches and smarts, just as +people say cancers always do."</p> + +<p>"How long have you been troubled with it?"</p> + +<p>"It is three months or more since I first observed it; but it has given +me very little uneasiness or trouble till within a few weeks."</p> + +<p>"What have you done for it?"</p> + +<p>"It would take a long time to tell you of all I have done for it. Every +thing I could hear of, far or near, has been applied; from plasters of +clay and chalk, to plasters of vitriol and other poisonous things. But I +have used most a plaster made of chalk and the white of an egg. I do not +know that any thing I have done has benefited it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you have not persevered in the use of any thing long enough. +How long is it, pray, since you began to use the chalk and egg plaster?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is three weeks, or more."</p> + +<p>"And how long is it usual to wear it? do you know?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lovejoy, who advised it, only said, 'Use it as long as it appears +to do good.'"</p> + +<p>"Is it a favorite remedy with her?"</p> + +<p>"Very much so."</p> + +<p>"Has any one been really cured by it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Mr. Browning, the gardener, was entirely cured by it; so, at +least, people say."</p> + +<p>"Any one else?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, half a hundred or more have tried it."</p> + +<p>"But how many have been cured by it? That is my main inquiry."</p> + +<p>"That I cannot tell you. I have heard of no positive cure but that of +Mr. Browning."</p> + +<p>"It is almost incredible, my dear sir, that any thing like fifty cases +can have come within such a small range of population as the village or +even the town in which Mrs. Lovejoy resides. Do you mean as you say?"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, a great many. I know of a dozen, most certainly; and I have +heard of a great many more. I venture, at least, to say twenty."</p> + +<p>"And you have no positive knowledge of but one permanent cure among them +all?"</p> + +<p>"Only one, I meant to say, that I can call by name. There must be many +more, I am sure, but I have not their names."</p> + +<p>"Have you much confidence in a method of treatment that succeeds once in +fifty times, or even once in twenty?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, I confess; but if it now and then succeed, that is something. +You know that they who run in a race <i>all</i> run, though but one receives +the prize."</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure there <i>is</i> any gain or prize, after all?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to ask if I believe Mr. Browning was really cured?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"How could I doubt what I have seen and known?"</p> + +<p>"I do not expect you will doubt the existence of what you have seen and +known. But the question before us is, what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> you <i>have</i> seen and known. +Mr. Browning had something on his face, and it got well; but do we know +it was a cancer? Only a very small proportion of twenty sores suspected +to be cancers ever prove to be such, and many of them get well after a +little time, if they are let entirely alone; or, if not let entirely +alone, they would probably still get well, in spite of the treatment. It +is quite a marvel with me, not that one person, Mr. Browning, recovered +in spite of the treatment, but that more did not."</p> + +<p>"This is to me a new way of reasoning on this subject, and yet I do not +know but you are correct. I confess, that on reflection, I do not find +positive evidence that any good has been done to Mr. Browning. It may be +so, or it may not. And yet the story of his cure is told all over the +neighborhood and for many miles around, and Mrs. Lovejoy gets great +credit by it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt she does; and thousands obtain both credit and cash in a +similar way. Much of the reputation of our wonderful cure-alls, +advertised in the newspapers, comes in a similar way."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so?"</p> + +<p>"It can be demonstrated."</p> + +<p>"Why, then, is it not oftener done?"</p> + +<p>"It has been done, again and again."</p> + +<p>"Are the public, then, fully determined to act against their own +interest? Do they choose to be humbugged?"</p> + +<p>"It seems so."</p> + +<p>"But can you do nothing with my face?"</p> + +<p>"I can try. I will do what I can. But I must first tell you what I +<i>cannot</i> do. I cannot pronounce your disease to be cancer. I cannot say +positively that my method of treatment will cure it. I cannot say, +moreover, that somebody else cannot cure you, even if I cannot. If, +however, I prescribe for you, you must consent to follow me for the time +most implicitly, and let everybody else alone."</p> + +<p>"That I shall be both willing and glad to do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You need not begin till you are fully satisfied in regard to the +efficacy of Mrs. Lovejoy's plaster."</p> + +<p>"I am pretty well satisfied already. I see that science is modest but +honest, and I prefer it to humbuggery."</p> + +<p>My prescription was an application of the common blistering ointment of +the apothecary's shop. The part to which it was to be applied was quite +denuded and tender; but I told the patient to stick a small piece of the +plaster over it and wear it, and keep it as sore as he could for a month +or more. He was, however, to call on me once a week,—or, perhaps, at +first, twice,—that I might watch the effects. There was some danger of +an absorption of the cantharides into the system, which might do more of +general harm than would justify an attempt at local good.</p> + +<p>No man ever followed the prescription of his physician with more +pertinacity and faithfulness than young Theodore. He adhered, without +wavering, to plain and unstimulating food, and to water for drink. At +the end of twenty-one days, all the fiery redness of the ulcer had +passed away, and it had begun to wear a healthy appearance. "Now," said +I, "you may take away your plasters, and let the sore get well, if it +will."</p> + +<p>In about ten, or at most fourteen days more, the young man's nose was as +well as any other part of his system. Whether the Spanish flies +contained in the plaster had any thing to do with it, or whether it +recovered its healthful condition in spite of them,—having just then +got ready to heal,—I cannot, of course, positively determine. In any +event, the case was a strong one, though not stronger, I confess, than +that of dosing largely with calomel, as detailed in Chapter XXXII. And +yet, as I have already told you, I should not dare to repeat that heroic +treatment. Success is not always competent proof that a given course is +correct;—at least, this is true with regard to the success of a +particular formulary of medicine. There are very many things on earth to +be known and thought of, as well as in heaven.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> + +<h3>SWELLED LIMBS.</h3> + + +<p>Not far from this period I was called to visit Mr. O. B., sixty-one +years of age, a farmer by occupation. He had been for twenty or thirty +years addicted to cider drinking very freely, according to the custom of +the country; which habit, conjoined with full feeding, a diminished +amount of exercise, and a lymphatic tendency by inheritance, had +rendered him exceedingly corpulent. His legs had even fallen into a +habit of swelling, especially at night, sometimes to a very alarming +extent.</p> + +<p>His story concerning himself was essentially as follows: In getting into +a wagon, some time before, he had detached a small portion of skin from +one of his legs. Although the wound was slight, and was duly attended +to, according to the usual method of the family, with cabbage leaves, +and with considerable care and neatness, yet, instead of healing kindly, +it had put on a very unhealthy appearance, and had, at length, even +become extensively ulcerated. He was also habitually a sufferer from +chronic rheumatism in his back and hips, partly constitutional and +partly as the result of overstraining the parts, especially in +wrestling.</p> + +<p>When I was called in to see him, it was about the last of June. His +wounded leg was now evidently growing worse; and as the heat of the +weather was increasing, and was for some time to come likely to +increase, I could hardly help apprehending the most serious +consequences. He had been in the habit of making greasy applications to +it for a short time, but these at my special request were set aside +immediately.</p> + +<p>He was also encouraged to keep his leg cool; to exercise his whole +system moderately; to avoid exciting, above all, stimulating,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> food and +drink; and to keep his mind quiet. In regard to drinks, particularly, he +was directed to use none but water. He was also required to abstain +wholly from pork, and all long-salted meats. He had also been, for +almost half a century, a chewer of tobacco—a circumstance rather +unfavorable to a rapid return of healthy action; but I did not think it +expedient to interdict its use entirely at the very first; for I feared +the change, at his advanced age, would be more than his system could +well endure.</p> + +<p>In fact, I found it extremely difficult to persuade him to pursue the +straight and narrow path which, letting alone his tobacco, I had deemed +indispensably necessary. To encourage him to do so, I availed myself of +a circumstance which, though in itself trifling, was nevertheless likely +to have its influence. The thirteenth day of July was at hand, and would +be the fortieth anniversary of his marriage. My proposal was that he +should commence the change of habits that very day, and continue it +precisely eighteen months.</p> + +<p>Although the danger to which he would be exposed by neglecting my +prescription was neither immediate nor imminent; yet it was so +considerable in prospect that I pressed him very hard to comply with my +requirements, notwithstanding their seeming rigidity. And as a further +inducement,—for he was not above the influence of pecuniary +considerations,—I offered him a certain sum of money.</p> + +<p>I left him without much hope, after all, that he would follow out my +suggestions and advice, so difficult is it, at the age of sixty, to make +substantial and radical changes. But I was most happily disappointed. He +began the work of reform on the very day appointed, and began it well; +and though he did not adhere to the letter of my prescription entirely, +he did quite as much as I had dared, even in my most sanguine moments, +to expect. And though his leg did not at first improve much, it was +something to find that during the very hottest weather of the season it +did not grow worse.</p> + +<p>For three months he did not use, as he said, so much as fifty cents +worth of pork, nor much salted food of any kind. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> abandoned entirely +all drinks but water, and all condiments with his food except a little +salt. He subsisted almost wholly on bread, fruits, and vegetables, with +a very little flesh or fish.</p> + +<p>At the end of three months he ventured abroad more than before; and as +it was now near the middle of October, he consented to put on woollen +stockings. But he made one change at this time which I had not intended. +He returned to the use of one of his former greasy and worse than +useless ointments. In the course of the month, however, in spite of the +foul external application, his leg was entirely healed; and the swelling +considerably abated. In short, at the close of the year he had entirely +recovered.</p> + +<p>The friends and neighbors attributed the cure to the ointment. How very +unreasonable! The ointment had been used during the spring, up to the +time when he came under my direction, without any apparent benefit. What +evidence then was there that it had been useful now? Why should not the +change for the better be attributed to his increased exercise, the +change of air and food, and the stimulus and warmth of woollen +stockings? Had water, moreover, as his only drink, nothing to do with +the cure?</p> + +<p>But while standing in the position I did, it was useless to decry the +ointment or exalt my own treatment, since it would have been regarded as +merely special pleading. Still, I did not shrink wholly from the +statement of my honest convictions, whenever I was inquired of, even +though I did not manifest a disposition to carry the war into Africa.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + +<h3>SUDDEN CHANGES IN OLD AGE.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. N. was about seventy years of age. In her early years she had +possessed a sort of masculine constitution; and though embarrassed by +poverty, had reared a large family of children, who were all well +settled in the world. She resided with the youngest but one of them, +where she did just as she pleased. In short, she had a good home, and, +had she enjoyed health, might have been happy.</p> + +<p>But a change had come over her in point of health, which it was not so +easy to account for at its outset as in its progress. For her first +derelictions, at least, I know of no cause. But she had, at length, +become reconciled to the use of tea, and as her spirits began to flag, +she added to it strong coffee. From these she proceeded to the pipe.</p> + +<p>The more she increased her extra stimulants, the more she added to her +troubles, and the greater was her necessity for additional stimulus. +Laudanum was very soon on her list; at first, it is true, in very small +quantities. Yet, as she grew older, she found a necessity, as she verily +believed, for increasing the size of her dose from year to year, till, +at the age of seventy, I found her in the full and free use of tea, +coffee, tobacco, and laudanum,—the latter to the enormous extent of +half an ounce a day,—and yet her complaints were more numerous than +ever.</p> + +<p>She was a reasonable woman, and therefore I attempted to set forth, in +their true colors, the realities of her condition. However, as I was not +acting as her physician, but only as a friend, I had little hope of +making any very permanent impressions. She knew the whole story as well +as I or any one else could know it. The great difficulty under which she +labored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> was a want of resolution to change her habits. Her irresolution +was sustained by the belief—a very general one—that old people cannot +make sudden changes in their physical habits with safety.<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> But she was +unhappy in the condition she then was. She had no peace with conscience, +nor, as I might almost venture to say,—for she was a religious woman by +profession,—with God.</p> + +<p>I assured her that the real danger of sudden changes, at her age, had +been greatly overrated; though danger there certainly was, in greater or +less degree. But I pointed out to her the means of obviating what danger +there was, and urged her, as a Christian, to make up her mind to meet +it. Of course, I did not presume to urge her to cast every thing aside, +and return to Nature's path at once; but to drop first one thing and +then another. I counselled her to be thorough and determined, as far as +she went; and when she abandoned a thing to make no reserve, but to be +sure of not going too fast and too far at once.</p> + +<p>When I left her one day, after a somewhat protracted conversation, it +was with many feelings of discouragement. I doubted very seriously +whether, on the whole, she would move at all. The power of half an ounce +of laudanum and a paper of tobacco daily, in paralyzing the human will, +is very great. But she was one of those persons who cannot, or think +they cannot, leave off a habit gradually, in the way I proposed. She +must "go the whole figure," as it is said vulgarly, or do nothing at +all.</p> + +<p>Judge then, if you can, of my surprise, when about two months afterward +I learned, from a source which was perfectly reliable, that the very +next day after I saw her, she abandoned the whole herd of extra +stimulants, both solid and liquid, and betook herself to water. Nor had +it, so far as I could learn, at all injured her.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +<p>No sooner did I hear the news of her reformation, than I took my horse +and made her a visit. There she was, nearly as well as ever she had been +in her life, though perhaps a little paler and thinner. And oh, what +rejoicing she had in her freedom! It would have done you good to see +her. She had now no fears for the result. "True," she said, "I suffered +for a few days, but the agony was soon over."</p> + +<p>One thing should be mentioned, since it doubtless added to the dangers, +real and imaginary, of her condition and trial. It took place during the +middle of a very cold winter—one of the coldest which we of the North +ever experienced; scarcely, if at all, behind those of 1855-6 and +1856-7.</p> + +<p>But all persons have not Mrs. N.'s faith, nor her deep-abiding religious +principles. These, it is presumed, greatly aided her in the terrible +conflict. No one ought to attempt such changes, at least in life's +decline, unless most fully convinced of their importance and necessity. +Yet, <i>with</i> this conviction, and strong faith in addition, all becomes +comparatively easy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. N. died a few years after her reform; but she died a free woman, +and not a slave to her appetite. Some few there were of her acquaintance +who appeared to think that the sudden changes to which she had subjected +herself several years before, hastened her dissolution. But I do not +believe there was a particle of evidence to be found that such was the +fact. Reader, remember Mrs. N., and if you are in the road of error, and +not more than seventy years of age, go and do likewise. If you have not +<i>lived</i> free, resolve at least to have the pleasure of dying so.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> This error has been met and refuted in the happiest manner, +by the late lamented Dr. John C. Warren, of Boston, in his little work, +entitled, "Hints for the Preservation of Health." Also, by Dr. Alcott's +new work, "The Laws of Health."</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + +<h3>AN OPIUM EATER.</h3> + + +<p>Almost at the next door from me was an opium eater. He, like the female +whose case was described in the preceding chapter, was not far from +three score and ten, and was of industrious and, in many respects, +temperate habits. And yet he was one of the most inveterate and +abandoned voluntary slaves to the drug opium I have ever seen. He had +used it largely thirty years.</p> + +<p>His case is the more singular from the fact that he became enslaved to +it so very early. To use opium or laudanum at the present day, I grant +is no uncommon occurrence. We may often find six, eight, or ten opium +takers in a single township, if not a single village, or even a single +neighborhood; and the number is rapidly increasing. Opium has not that +offensive appearance to many that tobacco has, and a much larger amount +of stimulus may be kept in a very small space, perhaps in the very +corner of the smallest pocket.</p> + +<p>Another circumstance which rendered the case of my opium-taking neighbor +somewhat striking, was his usual good health. I say, here, <i>usual</i>, for +there were exceptions which will appear presently. Yet though he was +nearly threescore and ten, this man had, while under the influence of +his accustomed stimulus, as much elasticity and nearly as much strength +as most men of thirty.</p> + +<p>How could this happen, you will naturally ask, if opium is such a deadly +narcotic as some medical men proclaim it to be? How can a person, male +or female, begin its use at forty and continue it to seventy years of +age, and yet be, for the most part, strong and healthy?</p> + +<p>In the first place, we must remember the force of habit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> We have seen +how it is with alcoholic drinks and tobacco. I might tell you how it is +with arsenic, which is beginning to be taken, it is said, by men and +horses, both in the old world and the new. I might even give you the +story of Mithridates, king of Pontus, who is said to have so accustomed +himself to hemlock,—the most deadly poison of his time,—that in any +ordinary dose, it would not affect him injuriously, or, at least, would +not do so immediately.</p> + +<p>We must remember, in the second place, the active, industrious habits of +this patient—of which, however, I have already spoken. He who is always +or almost always in the open air, is less likely to suffer from the use +of extra stimulants, and the penalty when it <i>does</i> fall on his head, is +much more likely to be deferred, than in the case of the sedentary and +inactive. He was so hardy and withal so bold, that in the summer season +he sometimes slept in the open air, under a tree.</p> + +<p>But, thirdly, he was descended from a very long-lived race or family. +His father died at the age of ninety-seven. At the time of his decease +he had been the progenitor of nineteen children, one hundred and five +grandchildren, one hundred and fifty-five great grandchildren, and four +of the fifth generation,—a posterity amounting in all, to two hundred +and eighty-three. And what is most marvellous, nearly all of them were +at that very moment living. In truth, he had several sons and daughters +already between the ages of sixty-five and eighty. There was one of the +brotherhood, whom I had seen, nearly eighty, and yet as active and +elastic as the opium eater of seventy.</p> + +<p>One thing more: The latter, as we have seen, was a man of excellent +habits in respect to nearly every thing but opium. He drank no ardent +spirits, nor much coffee and tea; he used very little tobacco, and he +ate in great moderation. He was an early riser and was in general +cheerful. In short, but for his opium taking, he would have enjoyed a +green old age.</p> + +<p>I have said he was usually healthy. When he was out of opium and could +not obtain any, I have seen him sit and writhe in the most intense +apparent anguish till the arrival of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> the accustomed stimulus, when the +transformation would be as sudden as it was striking. In fifteen +minutes, instead of writhing and groaning and almost dying, he might be +found talking, laughing, and telling stories most merrily, to the +infinite amusement of all around him.</p> + +<p>But he had troubles more abiding than this; at least, occasionally. +After taking his opium for a long time, such a degree of costiveness +would sometimes supervene, as seemed almost to defy the combined powers +of both nature and art. In these circumstances, of course, the aid of +the physician was usually invoked. It was on one of these occasions that +I first became fully acquainted with his habits and tendencies.</p> + +<p>Once, when thus called to his bedside, I began to think he was not very +far from the end of his career. The wheels of life seemed so completely +obstructed, that I doubted whether they would ever start again. He +himself declared, most positively and I doubt not in sincerity that he +must die. But he lived on many years longer. He died at about +seventy-five years of age—more than twenty years younger than his +venerable and more temperate father.</p> + +<p>From this distinguished opium eater, and from his family, I learned two +things: First, that Solomon was right when he spoke of the certainty of +punishment, even though long deferred. Secondly, the certainty of the +visitation, so to call it, of human transgression upon subsequent +generations no less than on the individual transgressor. The fourth +generation from the patriarch of ninety-seven was puny and +feeble—exceedingly so; the fifth and sixth not only puny and feeble, +but absolutely sickly, not to say dwarfish.</p> + +<p>Did I say I learned these important truths from this source? Not at all. +I mean only, that I received from it a new confirmation of what I had +fully believed long before, and concerning which, till compelled, most +men—even some thinking men—appear to me not a little sceptical. They +seem to think it reflects dishonor on our Maker. How this is, we shall +perhaps see more fully in another place. Let it suffice, for the +present, to say that the fact itself is fully established, whatever may +be the deductions or its consequences.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> + +<h3>COFFEE, AND THE LAME KNEE.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. W. was a distinguished minister of the gospel, and teacher of +females. He could not at this time have been much less than seventy +years of age. He was originally a man of iron constitution and of great +mental activity.</p> + +<p>Of late it had been observed by some of the members of his family, that +his mind had seasons of great inactivity, and it was even suspected he +had, either in his sleep or at some other time, suffered from a slight +attack of paralysis. His face seemed a little distorted, and one of the +angles of his mouth a little depressed. There appeared to be a slight +change even of his speech. It was recollected, too, that he inherited a +tendency of this kind.</p> + +<p>Along with other difficulties was a lame knee. This he called +rheumatism; but was it so? People are very fond of having a name for +every thing; and yet names very often mislead. Prof. Ives, of the +Medical College in Connecticut, was wont to say to his students, +"Diseases, young gentlemen, are not creatures to whom we can give +particular names, or assign particular marks of distinction. They are +merely <i>modes of action</i>." My friend's over solicitude for a name to his +complaint was therefore no new thing.</p> + +<p>I explained the matter as well as I could, very cautiously. I told him +it was of little consequence about the name of his disease, provided we +could ascertain the cause and remove it. "However," I said, "we will +conclude to call it rheumatism." For though possessed of a good natural +constitution, and, in general, of comparatively temperate habits, he had +nevertheless set at defiance some of nature's laws, and was suffering +under a just penalty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>One member of his family, a favorite son, was suspicious of coffee. He +himself had abandoned it long before, and had thus placed himself in a +position to observe its effects on others. His father used it very +strong, he said; and had used it in this way for a long time. He even +ventured, at length, to express his fears to his father.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my son," said the father; "do you think coffee is powerful +enough to give a man a lame knee? Why, the whole world—I mean the whole +civilized world—use it; and do they all have stiff knees?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," said the son; "but almost every coffee-drinker has, +sooner or later, some ailment about him, that may very possibly have its +origin in this source. Our troubles, as you yourself are accustomed to +say, do not spring out of the ground. Coffee, as the best authorities +tell us, is a slow poison; and if it is so, its effects must, at some +time, be manifested."</p> + +<p>"Ay, a very slow poison this coffee must be, my son," said the +half-indignant father; "for I have used it pretty freely forty years, +and am not dead yet. But to be serious for a moment, Henry, do you +really believe that such a small transgression as this, even if it could +be proved to be a transgression at all, would be the cause of so much +suffering?"</p> + +<p>"You admit, then, that your troubles may possibly be the result of +transgression, and that they did not spring out of the ground."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I suppose it must be so; but there is such a strange +disproportion between the transgression and the penalty, in the case you +mention, that I cannot for one moment believe any thing about it. Why, +what rational man in the world will believe that a little coffee, once a +day, will entail upon a person severe rheumatism?"</p> + +<p>"To what larger transgression, my dear father, will you be more ready to +refer it? You do not use tobacco, or rum, or opium; and I am happy in +being able to say that you never did. You are no tea-drinker. You are no +worshipper of the apothecary's shop. You have not, so far as I know, +strained your knee, by over exertion, either in labor or amusement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> Yet, +here you are a sufferer; and you have suffered for months. Now, how do +you account for it?"</p> + +<p>"There is no possibility of accounting for it, my son, and why should we +talk about it? If any thing can be done to cure it, I am sure I shall be +glad; but though I admit that the complaint may have had a cause—and +indeed <i>must</i> have had—I do not think we shall ever be able to trace it +out."</p> + +<p>The son still adhered to the opinion that the coffee was the cause of +the father's sufferings; and there was reason for believing that the +father was more than half convinced of it himself; only that he was too +proud to confess it. He concluded by asking his father if he would like +to consult me on the subject—to which he cheerfully consented.</p> + +<p>On a careful investigation of the case, I came to a full conclusion that +the son was right in his conjectures; that the coffee was the principal +source of his troubles; and that troubles still more serious might +befall him unless he abandoned it; and accordingly I told him so.</p> + +<p>It was a severe trial. He was, in truth, a most inveterate +coffee-drinker; and the greater his slavery to it had become, the +greater his reluctance to believe it produced, on him, any injurious +effects. He consented, at length, to leave off its use for two months, +and see if it made any difference with him. Being, however, about half a +convert to hydropathy, as was also his son, it was concluded, with my +permission, to apply the cold <i>douche</i> every day to his knee, by way of +an adjunct to the abstinence plan. No change was made in his diet; as, +in fact, very little was needed after the coffee had been removed. "But +one thing is needful," at the same meal, had long been his motto; and he +was never excessive in the use of even that.</p> + +<p>The coffee was laid aside, and resolution was put to the test. He +suffered in his feelings for want of his accustomed stimulus during the +first month; but during the second, very little. In about five weeks +after I saw and had prescribed for him, I met him one day, by accident, +and inquired about his lameness. "Very much better," said he, smiling; +"but no thanks to you for it. It is the <i>douche</i> which is curing me." I +replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> that I was not very solicitous to know the cause, provided he +was cured.</p> + +<p>On a more particular inquiry I found that his lameness had nearly +disappeared already; and what is more remarkable still, it never +returned. As long as he lived he could walk up and down stairs nearly as +well as I. He continued to be a water-drinker about ten years, when he +died, as he had lived, rejoicing in his emancipation from slavery to +coffee. He believed, most fully, in its evil effects and tendencies, and +did not hesitate, for many years before he died, to acknowledge that +belief. Neither his son nor myself had firmer faith in the connection of +law with penalty, in these matters, that he. And his only regret, in +this particular, seemed to be that he had suffered himself to remain, +almost all his lifetime, in what he now regarded as utter ignorance. And +yet, compared with most men of his day, he was quite enlightened.</p> + +<p>The case of Mr. W. was a pretty apt illustration of the truth of what I +regard as the great or cardinal doctrine of temperance, faintly +announced in Chapters XVIII., XXI., XXVIII, and elsewhere, viz., that, +as a general rule, much more mischief is done to society at large by the +frequent or at least habitual use of small quantities of poison, than by +an equal aggregate quantity in much larger doses. I mean just this: The +poisonous effects of Mr. W.'s coffee, though the amount daily taken was +trifling, produced a greater aggregate of mischief, in the end, than if +the same amount of poison had been applied in a very short time. A pint +of rum drank in a single day will do much less mischief to the human +constitution, than if divided into twenty <i>small</i> doses and two of them +are taken every day for ten days. In the first case the effect will be +severe, but temporary; in the second, it will seem to be trifling, but +there will be an accumulation of ill effects, a heaping up, as it were, +of combustible matter in the system, till by and by when an igniting +spark comes to be applied to the pile, lo! we have an explosion.</p> + +<p>Some of the hydropathists who knew the facts concerning Mr. W.,—for the +case did not occur in a corner,—tried to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> make it appear, perhaps in +all honesty, that he was cured by the cold <i>douche</i>. Now I have no +disposition to deny, wholly, its good effects. I have given you the +facts just as they were. Yet I have not a doubt that had he returned to +his coffee, the same troubles or others of equal magnitude would have +fallen to his lot again, despite the influences of the <i>douche</i>. In +truth, I know of no sensible hydropathist who, in such a case, would +rely upon the <i>douche</i> alone; which is to concede, practically, all that +I desire to claim.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE OPIUM PILL BOX.</h3> + + +<p>The statements of the following chapter will include a confession of one +of the principal faults of my life,—a fault, moreover, which, as a +physician, I ought to have guarded against with the most assiduous and +unwearied care. For no man more than the medical man, is bound to let +his light shine—especially in the matter of general temperance, in such +a manner that others may be benefited by it.</p> + +<p>When, in the beginning of my medical career, I attempted to establish a +temperance society, though I was exceedingly free from the charge of +using distilled liquors, according to the tenor and spirit of the +pledge, yet exposed, as I was, to colds, and delicate in constitution, +and above all, particularly liable, in the daily routine of business, to +temptation, I was yet one of those who lay aside one stimulus and retain +or resort to another. I did not, indeed, use my substitute with much +freedom, at first. The example daily before me, which was alluded to in +Chapter LII, was sufficient, one would think, to deter me from excess; +and so it proved. All I did for some time, whenever I had been +peculiarly exposed and feared I had taken cold, was to go and swallow a +small pill—say about a grain—of opium.</p> + +<p>But as usually happens in such cases, though the pill seemed to remove +all tendency to cold, or in other words to cure me for the time, the +necessity for recurring to it became more and more frequent and +imperious, till I was, at length, a confirmed opium taker. And +yet—strange to say it—all the while I regarded myself as a rigid +temperance man; nay, I was a violent opposer of the use even of opium as +a daily stimulus, in the case of everybody but myself. My apology +was—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> here was the ground of self-deception—that I only used it as +a medicine, or rather as a medical means of prevention.</p> + +<p>It is, however, quite obvious to my own apprehension now, that a +substance is hardly entitled to the name of medicine, in any ordinary +sense of the term, which is used nearly or quite every day. Yet to this +stage of opium taking I soon arrived. Nay, I went even much farther than +this, and was, at length, pretty well established in the wretched habit +of using this poisonous drug three times a day.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1830, while under the full habitual influence of opium, +I had a slight attack of dysentery. It even went so far as to derange +all my habits, and to break in, among the rest, upon my opium taking. +Opium or laudanum was, indeed, included in the prescription of my +physician,—for I did not wholly rely on my own judgment in the +case,—but as a habitual daily stimulus, at certain fixed hours, it was, +of course, omitted. As I began to recover, however, my old desire for +the opium pill began to recur, at the accustomed former hours, and with +all its wonted imperiousness.</p> + +<p>In a moment of reflection, reason resumed her throne, and the inquiry +came up, whether I should ever again wear the chain which had been +temporarily loosened. After a short debate, it was decided in the +negative. But a second question soon came up, whether I could keep my +resolution. This was a matter of serious inquiry, and it caused a +somewhat lengthy mental discussion.</p> + +<p>During the discussion a new thought struck me. It was a child's thought, +perhaps; and yet it was interesting, and not to be despised for its +simplicity and childishness. It was that I would take my opium, what I +had in the house, and after carefully enclosing it in my pill box, would +make use of the box as a nucleus for the twine I was daily using. "When +I am inclined to break my resolution," thought I, "nothing shall be done +till I have unwound the ball of twine. I shall thus gain a little time +for reflection; and perhaps before I come to the opium, I may permit +reason to return and to mount the throne. The trial shall, at all +events, be made."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>My resolution was carried into effect, and steadily adhered to. The +opium was fairly entombed in the twine, where, for aught I know, it +still remains. Most certainly I never saw it more; nor have I ever +tasted any of the opium or laudanum family, from that day to the +present, whether in sickness or in health.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2> + +<h3>BLEEDING AT THE LUNGS.</h3> + + +<p>Having occasion to go to the metropolis, one day, I took the most +expeditious public conveyance which the times and the season afforded. +It was January, 1832. Railroad cars were not so much in vogue that I +could step into one of them, and, unless in case of accident, be there +in four or five hours, as I now could. It required something like +twenty-four hours to perform the journey I proposed, especially in the +winter.</p> + +<p>We started at three o'clock in the morning. It had recently snowed, the +snow was deep, and the path was not well broken. Of course it was not +daylight when we set out, and as it was cloudy, it proved, as is not +unfrequent in such cases, to be the darkest time in the whole +twenty-four hours. However, we did as well as we could—driver, horses, +passengers, and all.</p> + +<p>Our company consisted of seven males and two females. The coach was +small, and we filled it to the brim. The weather was by no means very +cold for the season; at least, it was not extreme. There was a sound of +rain,—the January thaw, perhaps, as we are wont to call it,—but as +yet, fortunately for us, the storm had not begun.</p> + +<p>We had proceeded about ten miles, and the day had not yet dawned, when, +in passing around the point of a hill and winding our way among the deep +drifts, our driver and his charge missed the path, and we were +precipitated down a steep bank. The horses stopped immediately. Every +effort was made to rescue us from the stage-coach, which was lying on +its side, deeply embedded in the snow. I was so situated at the first +moment after the overturn, that most of the affrighted passengers made +use of me as a stepping-stone in their endeavors to reach the door +above, which was either opened or broken. At<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> last we were all fairly +outside of the coach; no one appeared to be seriously injured.</p> + +<p>As we were at a considerable distance from any dwelling-house, and as +the stage-coach was somewhat broken, and the harnesses torn, it required +a full hour to put things to rights, so as to enable us to proceed. +Meanwhile, though the weather was not very cold, it was quite chilly. +Some of the passengers stood still or sat still; others walked about. +The day had broken when we renewed our journey.</p> + +<p>The sleighing here was better than at the place where we started. At the +next stage-office we exchanged our coach for a huge sleigh, which was +not only more commodious than the coach, but more easily drawn over the +ground, especially for a short time.</p> + +<p>About noon it began to rain. Soon the travelling became worse again, and +our progress was slow and tedious. To me, the tediousness of the journey +was increased by a lame shoulder—the effect either of the overturn, or +of being used as a stair when the passengers made their sudden exit, or +of both. No bones were broken, nor joints dislocated; though there were +several considerable bruises.</p> + +<p>Our other troubles were not yet over. In the midst of a violent rain, +and at a considerable distance from any public house, our sleigh broke +down, and we were obliged to send for a wagon. In making the exchange, +moreover, we were more or less exposed to the storm. I for one became +considerably wet, and did not get perfectly dry till we reached the +metropolis.</p> + +<p>We arrived at evening at a large thoroughfare, forty miles or more from +our point of destination, when, after procuring a comfortable supper and +a good sleigh, with a new relay of horses, we set out to perform the +remainder of our journey. This was fortunate and very expeditious. We +reached our place of destination just before midnight, having travelled +the last forty-two miles in little more than four hours. This was almost +equal to railroad speed; but it was good sleighing, and we had with us, +in the sleigh, the United States mail, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> imposed on the driver a +necessity of being as expeditious as the nature of the case would admit. +For even then, we had been twenty-one hours in making our passage.</p> + +<p>I soon discovered that I had taken a severe cold during the journey; nor +do I believe my opium itself would have saved me. My only medicine was a +warm bed, into which I threw myself as soon as possible. In the morning +I repaired as early as I could to a boarding-house, in which a friend to +whom I had previously written, had made ready a place for me.</p> + +<p>I was at first quite ill; but in the hope that a few days of rest would +restore me, I was not particularly anxious about myself, though some of +my friends were so. Several individuals called to inquire after my +health—nearly every one of whom pressed me to take medicine.</p> + +<p>The second day after my arrival I began to expectorate a little blood. +Those who were familiarly acquainted with my consumptive tendencies +became greatly alarmed. They thought me not only presumptuous, because I +took nothing, but absolutely and carelessly ungrateful. And as I refused +to dose myself, they pressed me to send for a physician.</p> + +<p>Yielding, at length, to their importunity, they called one of the oldest +and best physicians in the metropolis. He was an eccentric man, but he +had the full confidence of the better sort of people, and richly +deserved it; and I knew I should not be advised by him hastily. He was +acquainted with my peculiar views, at least in part. Besides, I should +not be obliged to follow his counsel implicitly. I should still be my +own physician. My disease had not, at least thus far, impaired my +intellect or taken out of my hands my free agency.</p> + +<p>The doctor remained with me half an hour or so, during which time I made +him acquainted, as perfectly as I could, with my whole case. My good +friends, many of them, sat around waiting almost with impatience, to +hear him bid them or me to do some great thing—for great men though +some of them were, they were not great in matters pertaining to health +and disease. They were born, several of them, in the eighteenth +century.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>At length the time for prescription and departure had arrived, and my +good brother and father of the lancet rose very deliberately, and said +with great gravity, "You will be obliged to stay in your room a few +days, and keep both your body and mind as quiet as possible. For the +most part, it will be well to maintain a recumbent position. For food, +use a little water gruel. In following this course, I think you will +very soon find yourself convalescent." Then, with a sort of stiff bow, +that every one who knew him could pardon in so excellent a man, he said, +"Good-morning, sir,—Good-morning, gentlemen;" and was making the best +of his way to the door of the chamber. "Will it not be needful for you +to call again?" I said to him. "I shall be most happy to call," said he, +"should it be necessary; but I doubt very much whether my advice will be +any farther required."</p> + +<p>My friends were very much astonished that he did not prescribe active +medicine. "What can it mean?" they asked again and again. For myself, +too, I must confess that I was not a little disappointed. Not that I had +any considerable attachment to pills and pill boxes,—such a confidence +had gone by long before, as you know,—but I verily thought my +particular tendencies to pulmonary consumption demanded a little +tincture of digitalis, or something in the shape of strong medicine.</p> + +<p>But the physician knew my theories, better than he knew the power of +that habit whose chains, in this respect, he had long ago escaped. For I +learned afterwards, much better than I then knew, that so feeble was his +faith in medicine, at least in all ordinary cases, that whenever the +intelligence of his patients would at all warrant it, he prescribed, as +he had for me, just nothing at all, but left every thing to be done by +Nature and good common-sense attendants. This was, in fact, just what he +attempted to do here. He doubtless supposed my friends were nearly as +well informed in the matter as I was; and that I was as fully +emancipated in practice as I was in theory.</p> + +<p>"How much drugging and dosing might be saved," I said to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> myself, when I +came to reflect properly on the subject, "if mankind were duly trained +to place a proper reliance on Nature and Nature's laws, instead of +fastening all their faith on the mere exhibition of some mystic powder +or pill or tincture—or, at best, a few drops of some irritant or +poison. It is their ignorance that makes their physicians' and +apothecaries' bills so heavy, and the grave-digger's calling so good and +so certain."</p> + +<p>It is hardly necessary for me to say that I followed the advice which +had been so wisely given, and which, after all, was but the echo of my +own judgment, when that judgment was freely exercised. My friends were +not satisfied at first; but when they saw that I was slowly recovering, +they submitted with as good a grace as they could. The fact was that +they had no court of appeal. They had selected a man who was at the head +of his profession, and whose voice, in the medical world, and as a +medical man, wherever he was known, was law. Had some young man given +such "old woman's" advice, as they would most certainly have regarded +it, they would have appealed to a higher court.</p> + +<p>No man ever did better, when placed in similar circumstances, with the +aid of medicine, than I did without it. In two weeks, at farthest, I was +as well as I had been at any time in ten years or even twenty. What more +or greater could I have asked? What more could my friends have expected? +What more could have been possible? Could Hippocrates or Galen have done +more?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> + +<h3>BUTTER EATERS.</h3> + + +<p>About the year 1833, I became somewhat intimately acquainted with the +dietetic and general physical habits of a young woman in a family where +I was a boarder, whose case will be instructive.</p> + +<p>She was about twenty-five years of age, and resided in a family that had +adopted her as their own, her parents being unknown. She possessed a +good natural constitution; and was, for the most part, of good habits. +If there was any considerable defect of constitution, it consisted in a +predominance of the biliary and lymphatic over the nervous and sanguine +temperaments. Yet she was not wholly wanting in that susceptibility, not +to say activity, which the sanguine temperament is wont to impart. But +the same necessity which is so often the mother of invention, is also +sometimes the progenitor of a good share of activity; and this was, in a +remarkable degree, the lot of Miss Powell.</p> + +<p>Although her skin was not by any means fair, it was not a bad skin. It +was firm in its structure, and very little susceptible of those slight +but ever recurring diseased conditions in which persons of a sanguine +temperament so often find themselves involved. Such I mean to say was +her natural physical condition, when uninfluenced by any considerable +practical errors.</p> + +<p>And yet I had not been many months one of her more intimate +acquaintances, ere her face—hitherto so smooth and transparent—became +as rough and congested as any drunkard's face ever was, only the +eruption was more minute. It was what the common opinion of that region +would have called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> a rash. It came on suddenly, was visible for a short +time, and then gradually disappeared, leaving, in some instances, a +branny substance, consisting of a desquamation of the cuticle.</p> + +<p>When the eruption had once fairly disappeared, her skin was as smooth as +ever. Then again, however, in a little time, its roughness would return, +to an extent which, to young ladies, is usually quite annoying. Young +men, in general, are not so much disturbed by a little roughness of the +skin, as the young of the other sex.</p> + +<p>My particular acquaintance with her habits and annoyances continued as +many as four or five years. During this period there were several +ebbings and flowings of this tide of eruptive disease. My curiosity, +towards the end of this period, was so much excited that I sought and +obtained of her an opportunity for conversation on the subject. The +result was as curious as it was, to me, unexpected. It appeared, in the +sequel, that she understood, perfectly well, the whole matter, and held +the control of her cutaneous system in her own hands, nearly as much as +if she had been a mere piece of mechanism. She had not sought for +medical advice, because she knew the true method of cure for her +complaints as well as anybody could have told her.</p> + +<p>In truth, she cured it about once a year, simply by omitting the cause +which produced it. This she had found out was butter, salted butter, of +course, eaten with her meals. She had somehow discovered that this +article of food was the real cause of her disease, and that entire +abstemiousness in this particular, would, in a reasonable time, remove +it.</p> + +<p>I inquired why, after a long period of abstinence from butter, she ever +returned to its use. Her reply was that she was too fond of it to omit +it entirely and forever. She preferred to use it till the eruption began +to be quite troublesome, which was sometimes many weeks; then abstain +from it till she recovered, and then return to it. This gave her an +opportunity to use it from one-third to one-half of the time; and this +she thought greatly preferable to entire abstinence.</p> + +<p>At this time I did not press her to abandon wholly an article of food, +which, though partially rejected, was yet slowly producing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> derangement +of her digestive system, and might, in time, result in internal disease, +which would be serious and irremediable. I did not do it; first, because +I knew my advice would not be very acceptable; secondly, for want of +that full measure of gospel benevolence which leads us to try to do +good, even in places where we have no right to expect it will be +received; and, lastly, no doubt for want of moral courage.</p> + +<p>Were I to live my life over again, particularly my medical life, I would +pray and labor for a little more of what I am accustomed to call holy +boldness. By this term I do not mean <i>meddlesomeness</i>,—for this is by +no means to be commended,—but true Christian or apostolic boldness.</p> + +<p>Of late years the young woman above referred to has been in +circumstances which, I have reason to believe, practically precluded the +use of the offending article. I meet her occasionally, but always with a +smooth face, which greatly confirms my prepossessions.<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> Happy would it +be for a multitude of our race if their circumstances were such as to +exclude this and many other articles of food and drink which are well +known to injure them.</p> + +<p>One instance occurred in the very neighborhood of the foregoing, which, +though I received it at second hand, is not a little striking, and is +wholly reliable. A certain young mother—the wife of a merchant in easy +circumstances, was so excessively fond of butter, that, though she was a +dyspeptic, and knew it increased her dyspepsia, she used to eat it in a +manner the most objectionable which could possibly have been devised.</p> + +<p>For example: she would take a ball of this article,—say half or +three-quarters of a pound,—pierce it with the point of a firm stick, +and having heated it, on all sides, over the fire, till the whole +surface was softened, would then plunge it into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> vessel of flour, in +such a manner that the latter would adhere to it on all sides, till a +great deal was absorbed by the butter. Having done this, she would again +heat the surface of the ball and again dip or roll it in the flour. This +alternate melting the surface of the ball and rolling it in flour, was +continued till the whole became a mass of heated or scorched flour, +entirely full of the melted butter, and as completely indigestible as it +possibly could be, when she would leisurely sit down at a table and eat +the whole of it.</p> + +<p>Did it make her sick?—you will ask. It did, indeed, and she expected it +would. She would go immediately to bed, as soon as the huge bolus was +swallowed, and lie there a day or two, perhaps two or three days. +Occasionally such a surfeit cost her the confinement of a whole week.</p> + +<p>It is truly surprising that any Christian woman should thus make a beast +of herself, for the sake of the momentary indulgence of the appetite; +but so it is. I have met with a few such. Happily, however, conduct so +low and bestial is not so frequent among females as males, though quite +too frequent among the former so long as a single case is found, which +could be prevented by reasoning or even by authority.</p> + +<p>There is one thing concerning butter which deserves notice, and which it +may not be amiss to mention in this place. What we call butter, in this +country,—what is used, I mean, at our tables,—is properly pickled or +salted butter. Now, I suppose it is pretty well understood, that in some +of the countries of Europe no such thing as salted or pickled butter is +used or known. They make use of milk, cream, and a little fresh butter; +but that is all. In the kingdom of Brazil, among the native population, +at least, no such thing as butter, in any shape, has ever yet been +known.</p> + +<p>Fresh butter is sufficiently difficult of digestion; but salted butter +is much more so; and this is the main point to which I wish to call your +attention. Why, what is our object in salting down butter? Is it not to +prevent change? Would it not otherwise soon become acid and +disagreeable? And does not salting it so harden or toughen it, or, as it +were, fix it, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> it will resist the natural tendency to decomposition +or putrefaction?</p> + +<p>But will not this same "fixation," so to call it, prepare it to resist +changes within the stomach as well as outside of it; or, in other words, +prevent, in a measure, the work of digestion? Most unquestionably it +will. And herein is the stronghold of objection to this article. Hence, +too, the reason why it causes eruptions on the skin. The irritation +begins on the lining membrane of the stomach. The latter is first coated +with eruption; and, after a time, by what is called sympathy, the same +tendency is manifested in the face.</p> + +<p>These things ought to be well understood. There is great ignorance on +this subject, and what is known is generally the <i>ipse dixit</i> of +somebody. Reasons there are none for using salted butter. Or, if any, +they are few, and frequently very flimsy and weak. Let us have hygiene +taught us, were it only that we may know for ourselves the right and +wrong of these matters.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Since this was penned, the young woman has died of +erysipelas. Can it be that she has been compelled, in this form, to pay +a fearful penalty for her former abuses? One might think that twenty +years of reformation would have worn out the diseased tendencies. +Perhaps she recurred, in later years, unknown to the writer, to her +former favorite article.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII" id="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII.</h2> + +<h3>HOT HOUSES AND CONSUMPTION.</h3> + + +<p>If any individual in the wide world needs to breathe the pure +atmospheric mixture of the Most High,—I mean a compound of gases, +consisting, essentially, of about twenty parts of oxygen and eighty of +nitrogen,—it is the consumptive person. Mr. Thackrah, a foreign writer +on health, says, "That though we are eating animals, we are breathing +animals much more; for we subsist more on air than we do on food and +drink."</p> + +<p>And yet I know of no class of people, who, as a class, breathe other +mixtures, and all sorts of impurities, more than our consumptive people. +First, their employments are very apt to be sedentary. Under the +impression that their constitutions are not equal to the servitude of +out-of-door work, agricultural or mechanical, they are employed, more +generally, within doors. They are very often students; for they usually +have active, not to say brilliant minds. And persons who stay in the +house, whether for the sake of study or anything else, are exceedingly +apt to breathe more or less of impure air.</p> + +<p>Secondly, it is thought by many that since consumptive people are +feeble, they ought to be kept very warm. Now I have no disposition to +defend the custom of going permanently chilly, in the case of any +individual, however strong and healthy he may be; for it is most +certainly, in the end, greatly debilitating. It would be worse than +idle—it would be wicked—for consumptive people to go about shivering, +day after day, since it would most rapidly and unequivocally accelerate +their destruction.</p> + +<p>And yet, every degree of atmospheric heat, whether it is applied to the +internal surface of the lungs through the medium of atmospheric air, or +externally to the skin, is quite as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> injurious as habitual cold; and +this in two ways: First, it weakens the internal power to generate heat, +which, no doubt, resides very largely in the lungs. Secondly, it takes +from them a part of that oxygen or vital air which they would otherwise +inhale, and gives them in return a proportional quantity of carbonic +acid gas, which, except in the very small proportion in which the Author +of nature has commingled it with the oxygen and nitrogen of the +atmosphere, is, to every individual, in effect, a rank poison.</p> + +<p>Hence it is that those who have feeble lungs, or whose ancestors had, +should pay much attention to the quality of the air they breathe, +especially its temperature. And this they should do, not only for the +<i>sake</i> of its temperature, but also for the sake of its purity. Such a +caution is always needful; but its necessity is increased in proportion +to the feebleness of the lungs and their tendency to suppuration, +bleeding, etc.</p> + +<p>I was once called to see a young woman (in the absence of her regular +physician) who was bleeding at the lungs. She had bled occasionally +before, and was under the general care of two physicians; but a sudden +and more severe hemorrhage than usual had alarmed her friends, and, <i>in +the absence of better counsel</i>, they sought, temporarily, the advice of +a stranger.</p> + +<p>It was a cold, spring day, and in order to keep up a proper temperature +in her room, I had no doubt that a little fire was needful. But instead +of a heat of 65° in the morning and something more in the afternoon, I +found her sitting in a temperature, at ten o'clock in the forenoon, of +not less than 75° or 80°. On inquiry, I was surprised to find that the +temperature of her room was seldom much lower than this, and that +sometimes it was much higher. I was still more surprised when I +ascertained that she slept at night in a small room adjoining her +sitting-room, and that a fire was kept all night in the latter, for her +special benefit.</p> + +<p>No wonder her cough was habitually severe! No wonder she was subject to +hemorrhage, from the irritated vessels of the lungs! The wonder was that +she was not worse. The greatest wonder of all was, however, that two +sensible physicians<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> should, for weeks if not for months, have +overlooked this circumstance. For I could not learn, on inquiry, that a +single word had been said by either of them on the subject.</p> + +<p>If you should be inclined to ask whether she had no exercise in the more +open and pure air, either on horseback or in a carriage, the reply would +be, none at all. Horseback exercise was even regarded as hazardous, and +other forms of exertion had not been urged, or, that I could learn, so +much as recommended.</p> + +<p>I was anxious to meet her physicians, that I might communicate my views +and feelings directly to them; but as this was not convenient I gave +such directions as the nature of the case seemed to require, requesting +them to follow my advice till the arrival of her physicians, and then to +lay the whole case before them. My advice was, to reduce the temperature +of the sitting-room as low as possible, and yet not produce a sensation +of chilliness, and to have her sleeping-room absolutely cold, taking +care to protect her body, however, by proper covering. I also +recommended exercise in the open air, such as she could best endure; and +withal, a plain, unstimulating diet.</p> + +<p>What was done, I never knew for many months. At last, however, I met +with a neighbor of the family, one day, who told me that the young +woman's physicians entirely approved of my suggestions, and that by +following them out for some time, she partially recovered her wonted +measure of health.</p> + +<p>Whether she recovered entirely, I never knew. The far greater +probability is, that she remained more comfortable through the summer +and autumn, but that the injudicious management of the next winter and +spring reduced her to her former condition, or to a condition much +worse. People are exceedingly forgetful even of their dearest rights and +interests. They may, perhaps, exert themselves in the moment of great +and pressing danger; but as soon as the danger appears to be somewhat +over they relapse into their former stupidity.</p> + +<p>There is, however, much reason for believing that consumptive people +might often live on many years beyond their present scanty limit, could +they be made to feel that their recovery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> depends, almost wholly, on a +strict obedience to the laws of health, and not on taking medicine. If +Miss H., by strict obedience, could recover from a dangerous condition, +and enjoy six or eight months of tolerable health, is it not highly +probable, to say the least, that a rigid pursuance of the same course +would have kept her from a relapse into her former low and dangerous +condition?</p> + +<p>It is in this way, as I suppose, that consumption is to be cured, if +cured at all. It is to be <i>postponed</i>. In some cases it can be postponed +one year; in some, five years; in some, ten, fifteen, or twenty; in a +few, forty or fifty. It is in this respect with consumption, however, as +it is with other diseases. In a strictly pathological sense, no disease +is ever entirely cured. In one way or another its effects are apt to be +permanent. The only important difference, in this particular, between +consumption and other diseases, is, that since the lungs are vital +organs, more essential to life and health than some other organs or +parts, the injury inflicted on them is apt to be deeper, and more likely +to shorten, with certainty, the whole period of our existence.</p> + +<p>Connected with this subject, viz., the treatment of consumption, there +is probably much more of quackery than in any other department of +disease which could possibly be mentioned. One individual who makes +pretensions to cure, in this formidable disease, and who has written and +spoken very largely on the subject, heralds his own practice with the +following proclamation: "Five thousand persons cured of consumption in +one year, by following the directions of this work." Another declares he +has cured some sixty or seventy out of about one hundred and twenty +patients of this description, for whom he has been called to prescribe.</p> + +<p>Now, if by curing this disease is meant the production of such changes +in the system, that it is no more likely to recur than to attack any +other person who has not yet been afflicted with it, then such +statements or insinuations as the foregoing are not merely groundless, +but absolutely and unqualifiedly false, and their authors ought to know +it. For I have had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> ample opportunity of watching their practice, and +following it up to the end, and hence speak what I know, and testify +what I have seen. But if they only mean by cure, the <i>postponement</i> of +disease for a period of greater or less duration, then the case is +altered; though, in that case, what becomes of their skill? No book +worthy of the name can be consulted by a consumptive person without his +deriving from it many valuable hints, which if duly attended to may +assist him in greatly prolonging his days; and the same may be said of +the prescriptions of the physician. Yet, I repeat, it is a misnomer, in +either case, to call the improvement a cure.</p> + +<p>Consumptive people continue to live, whenever their lives are prolonged, +as the consequence of what they do to promote their general health. One +is roused to a little exercise, which somewhat improves his condition, +and prolongs his days. Another is induced to pay an increased regard to +temperature, and he lives on. Another abandons all medicine, and throws +himself into the open arms of Nature, and thus prolongs, for a few +months or a few years, his existence. If this is <i>cure</i>, then we may +have all or nearly all of our consumptives cured, some of them a great +many times over. Some few aged practitioners may be found to have cured, +during the long years of their medical practice, more than five thousand +persons of this description.</p> + +<p>There is no higher or larger sense than this in which any individual has +cured five thousand, or five hundred, or even fifty persons a year, of +consumption. On this, a misguided, misinformed public may reply: Many, +indeed, revive a little, as the lamp sometimes brightens up in its last +moments; but this very revival or flickering only betokens a more speedy +and certain dissolution.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, predisposition to consumption no more renders it +necessary that we should die of this disease in early life, at an +average longevity of less than thirty years, than the loading and +priming of a musket or piece of artillery renders it necessary that +there should be an immediate or early explosion. Without an igniting +spark there will be no discharge in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> a thousand years. In like manner, a +person may be "loaded and primed" for consumption fifty years, if not +even a hundred, without the least necessity of "going off," provided +that the igniting spark can be kept away. Our power to protect life, +both in the case of consumption and many more diseases, is in proportion +to our power to withhold the igniting spark.</p> + +<p>And herein it is that medical skill is needful in this dreadful disease, +and ought to be frequently and largely invoked. If the estimate which +has been made by Prof. Hooker, of Yale College, that one in five of the +population of the northern United States die of consumption, is correct, +then not less than two millions of the present inhabitants of New +England, New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio, are destined, as things now +are, to die of this disease. What a thought! Can it be so?</p> + +<p>Can it be that two millions of the ten millions now on the stage of +action in the northern United States, are not only <i>predisposed</i> to +droop and die, but are laid under a constitutional necessity of so +doing? Must the igniting spark be applied? Must the disease be "touched +off" with hot or impure air, by hard colds, by excitements of body and +mind, and in a thousand and one other ways? People are not wholly +ignorant on this great subject. Would they but <i>do</i> as well as they +<i>know</i>, the fatal igniting spark would be much oftener and longer +withheld; and, indeed, in many instances, would never prove the +immediate cause of dissolution. The lamp of life would burn +on—<i>sometimes, it may be, rather feebly</i>—till its oil was wholly +exhausted, as it always ought. Man has no more occasion, as a matter of +necessity, to die of consumption, than the lamp or the candle.</p> + +<p>This, if true,—and is it not?—should be most welcome intelligence in a +country where, at some seasons and in particular localities, one-fourth +of all who die, perish of this disease. In March, 1856, twenty-one +persons out of eighty who died in Boston in a single week, were reported +as having died of consumption; and in June of the same year, the +proportion was nearly as great. In Newton, a few miles from Boston, the +proportion for the last ten years has been also about one in four.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>But place the proportion for the whole northern United States, at one in +five only, or even one in six. Yet even at this rate, the annual +mortality for New York or New England, must be about twelve or fourteen +thousand. Yet it seems to excite little if any surprise. But when or +where has the cholera, the yellow fever, or the plague depopulated a +country of three millions of people, for each succeeding year, at the +rate of twelve thousand annually, or one hundred and twenty thousand +every ten years?</p> + +<p>One reason why the statements I have made, of the possible postponement +of consumptive disease, should be most welcome intelligence, is found in +the fact that they inspire with the hope of <i>living</i>. The ordinary +expectation that those who inherit a consumptive tendency must die +prematurely, has been fatal to thousands. Mankind, in more respects than +one, tend to become what they are taken to be. If we take them to be +early destined to the tomb, they go there almost inevitably. There is, I +grant, one most fortunate drawback upon this tendency. Most people who +have the truly consumptive character, are disposed to disbelieve it. +They are generally "buoyant and hopeful," which, in some degree, +neutralizes the effect of sombre faces, and grave and prognosticating +jeremiades.</p> + +<p>It will not be out of place to present the patient reader with an +anecdote, which may or may not be true, but which I received as truth +from the people of the neighborhood where the facts which it discloses +are said to have occurred.</p> + +<p>In the eastern part of Connecticut, not many years since, a young man +lay on his bed, very feeble and greatly emaciated, almost gone, as +everybody supposed but himself, with pulmonary consumption. And yet, up +to that very hour, the thought that his disease was consumption, had +never obtained a lodgment in his own mind for a moment. On the contrary, +he was still fondly hoping that sooner or later he should recover.</p> + +<p>It was fortunately about the middle of the forenoon one day,—an hour +when his body and mind were in the best condition to endure it,—that +his listening ear first caught from those around him the word +<i>consumption</i>. Starting up, he said, "Do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> you think my disease is +consumption?" They frankly told him their fears. "And do you think," he +added, "that I must die?" They did not conceal longer their real +sentiments.</p> + +<p>He was for a few moments greatly distressed, and seemed almost +overpowered. At length, however, a reaction came, when, raising his head +a little, he deliberately but firmly exclaimed, "I can't die, and I +won't die." After a few moments' pause and reflection, he said, "I must +be got up." His attendants protested against the effort, but it was to +no purpose. Nothing would satisfy him but the attempt. He was bolstered +up in his bed, but the effort brought on a severe fit of coughing, and +he was obliged to lie down again.</p> + +<p>The next forenoon, at about the same hour, he renewed the request to be +got up. The result was nearly as before. The process, however, was +repeated from day to day, till at length, to the great joy and surprise +of his friends, he could sit in his bed fifteen or twenty minutes. It is +true that it always slightly increased the severity of his cough; but +the paroxysm was no worse at the twentieth trial than at the first, +while he evidently gained, during the effort, a little muscular +strength. It was not many weeks before he could sit up in bed for an +hour or more, with a good degree of comfort.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he, "I must be taken out of bed and placed in a chair." At +first his friends remonstrated, but they at length yielded and made the +attempt. It was too much for him; but he persevered, and after a few +repeated daily efforts, as before, at length succeeded. Continuing to do +what he could, from day to day, he was, ere long, able to sit up a +considerable time twice a day.</p> + +<p>He now made a third advance. He begged to be placed in an open carriage. +As I must be brief, I will only say that, after many efforts and some +failures, he at length succeeded, and was able to ride abroad several +miles a day, whenever the weather was at all favorable. Nor was his +cough at all aggravated by it. On the contrary, as his strength +increased, it became rather less harassing and exhausting.</p> + +<p>One more advance was made. He must be helped, as he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> said, upon a horse. +It was doubtful, even to himself, whether he had strength enough to +endure exercise in this form; but he was determined to try it. The +attempt was completely successful, and it was scarcely a week before he +could ride a mile or two without very much fatigue.</p> + +<p>The final result was such a degree of recovery as enabled him to ride +about on horseback several miles a day for six years. He was never quite +well, it is true, but he was comfortable, and, to some extent, useful. +He could do errands. He could perform many little services at home and +abroad. He could, at least, take care of himself. At the end of this +period, however, his strength gave way, and he sank peacefully to the +tomb. He was completely worn out.</p> + +<p>Now the principal lesson to be learned from this story is obvious. +<i>Determination</i> to live is almost equivalent to <i>power</i> to live. A +strong will, in other words, is almost omnipotent. Of the good effects +of this strong determination, in case of protracted and dangerous +disease of this sort, I have had no small share of experience, as the +reader has already seen in Chapter XXIII.</p> + +<p>Another fact may be stated under this head. A young man in southern +Massachusetts, a teacher, was bleeding at the lungs, and was yielding at +length to the conviction—for he had studied the subjects of health and +disease—that he must ere long perish from consumption. I told him there +was no necessity of such a result, and directed him to the appropriate +means of escape. He followed my directions, and after some time regained +his health. Ten or twelve years have now passed away, and few young men +have done more hard work during that time than he; and, indeed, few are +able, at the present moment, to do more. It is to be observed, however, +that he made an entire change in his dietetic habits, to which he still +adheres. He avoids all stimulating food—particularly all animal +food—and uses no drink but water.</p> + +<p>I did not advise him, while bleeding, to mount a hard-trotting horse, +and trot away as hard as he could, and let the blood gush forth as it +pleased. It is a prescription which I have not yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> hazarded. I might do +so in some circumstances, when I was sure of being aided by that almost +omnipotent determination of which I have elsewhere spoken. I might do it +occasionally; but it would be a rare combination of circumstances that +would compel me. I might do it in the case of a resolute sea captain, +who insisted on it, would not take <i>no</i> for an answer, and would assume +the whole responsibility. I might and would do it for such a man as Dr. +Kane.</p> + +<p>I have, myself, bled slightly at the lungs; but while I did not, on the +one hand, allow myself to be half frightened to death, I did not, on the +other hand, dare to meet the hemorrhagic tendency by any violent +measures; not even by the motion of a trotting horse. I preferred the +alternative of moderate exercise in the open air, with a recumbent +position in a cool room, having my body well protected by needful +additional clothing, with deep breathing to expand gently my chest, and +general cheerfulness. But I have treated on this subject—my own general +experience—at sufficient length elsewhere.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII" id="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2> + +<h3>POISONING BY A PAINTED PAIL.</h3> + + +<p>A child about a week old, but naturally very sensitive and irritable, +became, one night, unusually restless and rather feverish, with +derangement of the bowels. The condition of the latter was somewhat +peculiar, and I was not a little puzzled to account for it. There was +nothing in the condition of the mother which seemed to me adequate to +the production of such effects. She was as healthy as delicate females +usually are in similar circumstances.</p> + +<p>The derangement of the child's bowels continued and increased, and I was +more and more puzzled. Was it any thing, I said to myself, which was +imbibed or received from the mother? Just at the time, I happened to be +reading what Dr. Whitlaw, a foreign medical writer, says of the effects +which sometimes follow when cows that are suckling calves feed on +buttercup. The poison of the latter, as he says, instead of injuring the +cow herself, affects, most seriously, the calf, and, in some few +instances, destroys it. This led me to search more perseveringly than I +had before done, for a cause of so much bowel-disturbance in my young +patient.</p> + +<p>At length I found that a wooden pail, in which water was kept for family +use, had been but recently painted inside; and that the paint used was +prepared in part, from the oxyde of lead, usually called white lead. On +this I immediately fastened the charge of poisoning.</p> + +<p>My suspicions were confirmed by the fact that the mother had been more +thirsty and feverish than usual, during a few hours previous to the +child's first manifestation of disease, and had allowed herself to drink +very freely of water, which was taken from the very pail on which our +suspicions now rested.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Another fact of kindred aspect was, that the +child recovered just in proportion as the mother left off drinking from +the painted pail, and used water which was procured in vessels of whose +integrity we had no doubt.</p> + +<p>Most people who had any knowledge of the facts in the case, said that +the cause I assigned could not have been the true one, since it was +inadequate to the production of such an effect. But the truth is, we +know very little about poisons, in their action on the living body, +whether immediate or remote. Till this time, although I had read on it +as much as most medical men, yet I knew—practically knew—almost as +little as the most illiterate. Yet the subject was one with which +professional physicians should be familiarly acquainted, if nobody else +is. Many an individual, as we have the most abundant reason for +believing, loses his health, if not his life, from causes which appear +to be equally slight. A Mr. Earle, of Massachusetts, cannot swallow a +tumbler of water containing a few particles of lead, without being made +quite sick by it. Nor is he alone in this particular. Such sensitiveness +to the presence of a poisonous agency is by no means uncommon. It may be +found to exist in some few individuals in every country, and almost +every neighborhood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX" id="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX.</h2> + +<h3>ONE DROP OF LAUDANUM.</h3> + + +<p>A babe, not yet a day old, came under my care for treatment. What the +symptoms were, except those of nervous irritation, I have now forgotten; +but there was ample evidence of much disturbance in the system, and the +parents and friends were exceedingly anxious about the results.</p> + +<p>Now it was one of those cases in which a large proportion of our medical +men are exceedingly ignorant, and only guess out the cause or causes as +well as they can. I was thus ignorant, and would not—and as an honest +man, <i>could</i> not—attempt to divine the cause or give a name to the +disease. Yet I must needs, as I verily thought, prescribe something and +somehow. So I took a single drop of laudanum, and diluted it well, and +made the child swallow it.</p> + +<p>He soon became easy, quite too easy, and fell into a profound sleep. So +deep and profound, in fact, was its sleep, or rather its <i>stupor</i>, that +I began to be afraid it never would awake. How strange, I thought within +myself, that a single drop of this liquid should produce so much effect! +Yet it taught me wisdom. It taught me to let medicine alone—strong +medicine, at least—in the diseases of very young children. It also +taught me not to give too large doses to anybody, especially to those +who had never taken any before. The first dose, for unperverted nature, +must be very small indeed!</p> + +<p>How much my little patient was injured, permanently, by this act of +unpardonable carelessness, I never knew. It may have laid the foundation +for many ills which he has since experienced, some of which have been +severe and trying. Or, if otherwise, it may have aggravated such ills as +had their origin in other causes. Or, if nothing more, it may have +contributed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> to a delicacy and sensitiveness and feebleness of +structure, which can never, in all probability, be fully overcome, and +which have more to do, even with our moral tendencies and character, +than most of us are fully aware.</p> + +<p>How much would I give to be able to blot from my history such errors and +defects of character as this! For, though I confess to nothing worse +than haste and carelessness, in the present instance, yet a medical man, +like the commander in the battle field or elsewhere, has no right to be +careless. My aged, honored father gravely insisted, all his life long, +that no accidents, as they are termed, in human life, ever take place, +unless there is in the first place, carelessness, somewhere. Much more +is it true that many an individual who sickens and loses his life, is +the victim of carelessness; or, what is the same thing, want of +attention, when great care and attention were necessary, and the issues +of life and death were suspended, as it were, on a thread!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX" id="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX.</h2> + +<h3>MRS. KIDDER'S CORDIAL.</h3> + + +<p>Should you ever go to Boston, and pass along a certain street called +Court Street, almost to its western extremity, you may probably see at +your left hand, in large letters of various fantastical shapes, the +words which I have placed at the head of this chapter; viz., "<span class="smcap">Mrs. +Kidder's Cordial</span>." Sometimes, I believe, it is called her cholera +cordial; but it is sufficiently well known, as I suppose, by the former +name.</p> + +<p>But how is it known? Not merely by the sign I have mentioned, fastened +up at the door of that aforesaid shop in Court Street, but by a host of +advertisements in the public papers; and in other cities as well as +Boston. You may find them in almost every public house, post-office, +railroad depot, and grocery in New England; or, as I might perhaps say, +in the whole Union.</p> + +<p>I once had a child severely sick, at a season of the year when not only +the Asiatic cholera prevailed, but also the cholera morbus. She was +teething at the time, which was doubtless one cause of her illness,—to +which however, as I suppose, other causes may have been added. In any +event, she was in a very bad condition, and required the wisest and most +careful medical attention. There was also a young woman in the house who +was ill in the same way, but not so ill as the child.</p> + +<p>At that time my residence was very near the metropolis, though, as I +have already told you, Mrs. Kidder's cordial could be had almost +everywhere. Having occasion to go to town, I fell in with an old friend +who kindly inquired after the health of my family. When I had told him, +he boldly and with true Yankee impertinence, asked what I had done for +my family patients; to which I replied, with a frankness and simplicity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +which was fully equal to his boldness, "Nothing, as yet." "Do you mean +to do nothing?" said he, with some surprise. I told him that I did not +know what I might do in future, but that I saw no necessity of using any +active medication at present. "Are you not aware," I added, "that +physicians seldom take their own medicines or give them to their +families?"</p> + +<p>"I know very well," said he, "that physicians theorize a good deal about +these matters; but after all, experience is the best school-master. +Should you lose that little girl of yours, simply because you are +anxious to carry out a theory, will you not be likely to regret it? As +yet you have lost no children, and therefore, though much older than +myself, you have not had all the experience which has fallen to my lot; +and experience is the best school-master."</p> + +<p>"True," I answered, "I am not too old to learn from that experience, +which, in a certain sense, is the basis of all just knowledge, +especially in medicine. What you call my theory, or at least all the +theory I have, is grounded on this same experience; not, indeed, that of +one man in one neighborhood, nor, indeed, in one nation. I have looked +the world over."</p> + +<p>"And you have come to the very wise conclusion, it would seem," said he, +"that medicine never does any good, and that you will never give it +more, except to those who are determined to have it, or will not fasten +their faith on any thing else."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that," I replied. "I can think of a great number of cases +in which I would give medicine. For example: suppose one of my children +had by the merest accident taken a dose of poison, which, if retained, +must inevitably destroy it, I would much sooner give that child an +active emetic—which, of course, is medicine—than stand still and see +it die."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said he, "your child and Miss L., are, in one point of +view, poisoned. They will probably die, if you stand still and do +nothing; at least I have not a doubt that the little girl will. Now take +my advice, and do something before it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> too late. Give up all your +theories and fine-spun reasonings, and do as others do, and save your +child."</p> + +<p>As I had but little time for conversation with him, even on a highly +important and deeply interesting subject, above all to point out the +difference between the two cases he mentioned. I was now about ready to +say "Good-morning," and leave him. "Stop a moment," said he, "and go +with me to the second shop beyond that corner, and get a bottle of Mrs. +Kidder's cordial for your sick folks."</p> + +<p>Here I smiled. "Well," said he, "you may continue to smile; but you will +mourn in the end. I have used Mrs. Kidder's cordial in my family a good +deal, and I assure you it is no humbug. It is all it promises. Now just +go with me, for once, and get a bottle of it. Depend upon it, you will +never regret it."</p> + +<p>Although my good friend had not succeeded in changing my views by his +many affirmations, nor by his strong appeal to his experience of the +good effects of the cordial in his own family (for I well knew he had +lost almost all his children), I consented to go with him to the shop, +partly to get rid of him. When we arrived I bought a bottle of the +cordial,—I believe for fifty cents,—put it in my pocket, and carried +it home with me.</p> + +<p>When I reached home I put away the bottle, on a shelf in our family +closet which was quite unoccupied, and inquired about the patients. The +little girl was rather better, it was thought, but Miss L. was still +weak and low. I told them about the adventure with the bookseller, but +omitted to state that I had purchased the cordial.</p> + +<p>In a very few days, by dint of good care and attention, and the blessing +of a kind Providence, the sick were both of them much better, and I +could leave them for a whole day at a time. My business in town demanded +my presence, and I repaired thither again. And who should I meet, on +getting out of the omnibus, but my old friend, who had reasoned with me +so patiently and perseveringly, in defence of Mrs. Kidder's cordial?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>He inquired, almost immediately, about my family; to which I joyfully +replied, "Better, all better. They were better in less than two days +after I last saw you;—yes, they were a little better that very +evening."</p> + +<p>"I told you it would be so," said he. "I never knew the cordial to fail +when taken in season. I have lost several children, it is true; but they +did not take it soon enough. I am profoundly glad you were in season. +Does it not operate like a charm?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly so," said I, "if it operates at all; exactly like a charm, or +like magic. Shall I tell you the whole story?"</p> + +<p>"By all means," he replied; "let us have the whole of it; keep nothing +back."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I went home, and placed the bottle of cordial on a high and +obscure shelf, where nobody would be likely to see it, and proceeded +with our sick folks just as before. The bottle of cordial remained +unknown, except to myself, and untouched, and is probably untouched to +the present hour. So you see—do you not?—how like a charm it +operates."</p> + +<p>"Just <i>like</i> you, doctor. Well, as long as they recovered I do not care. +But I shall always have full faith in the medicine. I know what I know; +and if all the world were of your opinion I could not resist a full +belief in the efficacy of Mrs. Kidder's Cholera Cordial."</p> + +<p>My friend was not offended with me, for he was, in the main, a sensible, +rational man. He pitied me; but, I believe from that time forth, gave up +all hopes of my conversion. I come to this conclusion because he has +never uttered a syllable on the subject, in my hearing, from that day to +this hour, though I have met with him probably fifty times.</p> + +<p>There can be no doubt that were we to place full faith in the +recuperative efforts of nature, three-fourths of our medicine—perhaps I +may just as well say nine-tenths—would be quite as useful were it +disposed of in the way I disposed of Mrs. Kidder's cordial, as when +swallowed. Nay, it is possible it might be much more useful. If a sick +person can recover without it just as well as <i>with</i> it, he certainly +will get well more easily,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> even if it should not be more quickly, than +if he had a load of foreign substance at his stomach to be disposed of. +In other words, to get well in spite of medicine seems to me much less +agreeable, after all that is said in its favor, than to get well in +Nature's own way.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI" id="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI.</h2> + +<h3>ALMOST RAISING THE DEAD.</h3> + + +<p>So many people regarded it, and therefore I use the phrase as a title +for my chapter. I have heard of families of children so large that it +was not easy to find names for them all. My chapters of confession are +short, but very numerous, and I already begin to find it difficult to +procure titles that are <i>apropos</i>.</p> + +<p>Mary Benham was the second daughter, in an obscure and indigent family +that resided only a little distance from my house, just beyond the +limits of what might properly be called the village. I do not know much +of her early history, except that she was precocious in mind, and +scrofulous and feeble in body.</p> + +<p>The first time I ever heard any thing about her, was one night at a +prayer-meeting. Mr. Brown, the minister, took occasion to observe, at +the close of the meeting, in my hearing, that he must go to Mr. Benham's +and see Mary, for she was very ill, and it was thought would not live +through the night.</p> + +<p>She survived, however, as she had done many times before, and as she did +many times afterward, in similar circumstances. More than once Mr. Brown +had been sent for—though sometimes other friends were called, as Mr. +Brown lived more than a mile distant—to be with her and pray with her, +in what were supposed to be her last moments. But there was still a good +deal of tenacity of life; and she continued to live, notwithstanding all +her expectations and those of her friends.</p> + +<p>It appeared, on inquiry, that her nervous system was very much +disordered, and also her digestive machinery. She was also taking, from +day to day, a large amount of active medicine. Still no one appeared to +doubt the propriety of such a course<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> of treatment, in the case of a +person so very sick as she was; for how, it was asked, could she live +without it?</p> + +<p>In one or two instances I was sent for; not, indeed, as her physician, +but as a substitute for the more distant or the absent minister. At +these visits I learned something, incidentally, of her true physical +condition. I found her case a very bad one, and yet, as I believed, made +much worse by an injudicious use of medicine.</p> + +<p>Yet what could I do in the premises? I had not been asked to prescribe +for her, nor even to give counsel as a supernumerary or consulting +physician. Dr. M. paid her his weekly and semi-weekly visits, and +doubtless supposed all the wisdom of the world added to his own would +hardly improve her condition. I was, of course, by all the rules of +medical etiquette, and even by the common law of politeness, obliged to +bite my lips in silence. One thing, indeed, I ventured to do, which was +to send her a small tract or two, in some of the departments of hygiene +or health.</p> + +<p>Soon after this her physician died; and died, too, by his own +confession, publicly made, of stomach disease,—at least, in part. He +was a man of gigantic body and great natural physical force. His +digestive apparatus was particularly powerful, and it had been both +unwisely cultivated and developed in early life, and unwisely and +wickedly managed afterward. For an example of the latter, he would, +while abroad among his patients, sometimes go without his dinner, and +then, on his return to his family and just as he was going to bed, atone +for past neglect by eating enough for a whole day, and of the most solid +and perhaps indigestible food. In this and other abusive ways he had +been suicidal.</p> + +<p>But he was now gone to his final account, and on whose arm could Mary +lean for medical advice? Her parents were too poor to pay a physician's +bill. What had been paid to her former medical attendant—which, indeed +was but a mere pittance—was by authority of the town. Mary felt all the +delicacy she should have felt, in her circumstances, and perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> more, +for she refused for some time to ask for farther aid, preferring to +groan her way alone.</p> + +<p>One evening, when I was present on a moral errand, she spoke of the +great benefit she had derived from the perusal of the little books I had +sent her, and modestly observed that, deprived as she was by the wise +dispensation of Providence, of her old friend and physician, she had +sometimes dared to wish she could occasionally consult me. I told her I +hoped she would not hesitate a moment to send for me, whenever she +desired, for if in a situation to comply with her requests, I would +always do so immediately. She was about to speak of her poverty, when I +begged her not to think of that. The only condition I should impose, I +told her, was that she should do her very best to follow, implicitly, my +directions. With this condition she did not hesitate to promise a full +and joyful compliance.</p> + +<p>From that time forth I saw her frequently, since I well knew that even +voluntary visits would be welcome. I found she had become convinced of +the necessity of breathing pure air, and of ventilating her room every +day. Nor did she neglect, as much as formerly, the great laws of +cleanliness. Yet, alas! in this respect, the hard hand of necessity was +upon her. She could not do all she wished. However, she could apply +water to her person daily, if she could not to her clothing and bedding; +so that, on the whole, she did not greatly suffer. Her mother did what +she could, but she was old and decrepit.</p> + +<p>She had also made another advance. She had contrived to obtain, I hardly +know from what source, but probably from the hands of kind friends, a +small amount of good fruit to use daily, with one or more of her meals. +This excluded a part or portion of that kind of food which was more +stimulating and doubtful.</p> + +<p>But the greatest difficulty we had to encounter was to shake off the +enormous load of narcotic medicine which had been so long prescribed for +her that she seemed unable to live without it. Morphine, in particular, +she had come to use in quantities which would have destroyed a person +who was unaccustomed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> to its influence, and in frequently repeated +doses. I told her she might as well die in one way as another; that the +morphine, though it afforded a little temporary relief, was wearing out +her vital energies at a most rapid rate, and that the safest, and, in +the end, the easiest way for her was, to abandon it entirely. She +followed my advice, and made the attempt.</p> + +<p>I have forgotten how long a time it required to effect a complete +emancipation from her slavery to drugs; but the process was a gradual +one, and occupied at least several months. In the end, however, though +not without considerable suffering, she was perfectly free, not only +from her slavery to morphine, but to all other drugs. All this time, +moreover, she was as <i>well</i>, to say the least, as before; perhaps, on +the whole, a little better.</p> + +<p>I now set myself, in good earnest, to the work of improving her physical +habits. The laws of ventilation and cleanliness, to which her attention, +as I have already intimated, had become directed, were still more +carefully heeded. She was required to retire early and rise early, and +to keep her mind occupied, though never to the point of fatigue, while +awake. Her habits with regard to food and drink were changed very +materially. The influence of the mind on the condition of the body was +also explained to her, and the influence of temperature. In short, she +was brought, as fast as possible, to the knowledge of physical law in +its application to her circumstances, and encouraged to obey it.</p> + +<p>The recuperative powers of nature, even in unfavorable circumstances, +were soon apparent. This greatly increased her docility and inspired her +with faith and hope. The greatest trouble was in regard to muscular +exercise. Much of this was needed; and yet how could it be obtained? She +could not walk, and yet, in her indigence, she had no means of +conveyance, except at the occasional invitation of some friend.</p> + +<p>But this even had its good tendencies. To take her up, as we would have +taken a child, set her in a carriage and let her ride half a mile or a +mile, was obviously of great service to her. She was far less fatigued +by it than was expected; her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> subsequent sleep was far better; nor did +any remote evil effects follow. This greatly increased her courage, and +raised the hopes of her friends.</p> + +<p>She was at length able to be placed in the railroad cars, and with the +aid of coaches, at embarking and disembarking, to travel about a good +deal, to the distance of ten, twelve, or twenty miles; and all this with +favorable effects. Her recovery, at no distant day, began to be +regarded, by the most sceptical, as quite probable.</p> + +<p>My removal, a hundred miles or so from the village, just at this time, +was, however, a misfortune to her. In one of her excursions, she +received and accepted an invitation to spend a few months with a distant +relative, where she came under the influence of one of the phases of +modern quackery, by means of which her progress to the promised land of +health was very considerably retarded. She even sickened, but afterward +recovered.</p> + +<p>Sometime after this, as I subsequently learned, she partially regained +her good condition of steady progress, and returned to her father's +house. Finding herself, at length, able to do something for her support, +she entered into the service of a neighboring family, at first with +little compensation except her board, but subsequently at half pay or +more. Her domestic duties were such as only taxed her system to a degree +which she was able to endure without any injury.</p> + +<p>It was in this condition, that, after two or three years of absence, I +found her and rejoiced with her. For, though she could no more be said +to be restored to perfect health, than a vessel could be considered +perfectly sound that is full of shot holes, yet her condition was far +enough from being desperate, and was even comparatively excellent. I +left her once more with the tear of gratitude to God on her cheek, and +again, for many long years, neither saw her nor heard from her.</p> + +<p>At our next interview she brought with her a gentleman whom she +introduced to me as her husband. The meeting was to me wholly +unexpected, but most happy. She lived in this relation, but without +progeny, a few years more, and then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> sank in a decline, to rise no more +till the sound of the last trumpet.</p> + +<p>Of the particulars of her decline and death, I have never heard a word. +Her scrofulous temperament and tendencies rendered her liable to +numerous diseases of greater or less severity and danger, to some of +which she probably fell a victim. It is, however, by no means impossible +that her numerous cares and anxieties—for she was naturally very +sensitive—may have hastened her exit.</p> + +<p>If I have any misgivings in connection with this protracted, but very +interesting case, and consequently any confessions to make, it is with +reference to the point faintly alluded to in a preceding paragraph. +While I honor, as much as any man, the marriage relation,—for it is in +accordance with God's own intention, and is the first institution of +high Heaven for human benefit and happiness,—I must freely confess that +in the present fallen condition of our race, it occasionally happens +that an individual is found unfit for the discharge of its various +duties, as well as for the endurance of some of its peculiar +responsibilities. Such, as I believe, among others, was Mary Benham.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXII" id="CHAPTER_LXII"></a>CHAPTER LXII.</h2> + +<h3>FEMALE HEALTH, AND INSANE HOSPITALS.</h3> + + +<p>A female, about thirty-five years of age, and naturally of a melancholic +temperament, was very frequently at my room for the purpose of +conversing with me in regard to her health. Most of her complaints—for +they were numerous—were grafted upon a strongly bilious habit, and were +such as required in the possessor and sufferer, more than an ordinary +measure of attention to the digestive organs and the skin. And yet both +these departments, especially the latter, had been in her case, +hitherto, utterly neglected. To speak plainly, and with some license as +a physiologist, <i>she had no skin</i>. It was little more than a mere +wrapper, so far as the great purposes of health were concerned. A dried +and even tanned hide, could it have been fitted to her person with +sufficient exactness, would have subserved nearly the same purposes.</p> + +<p>Perhaps you will excuse the tendency in the description of this case, to +exaggeration, when you are informed that the treatment of themselves, in +the particular here alluded to, by females especially, is one which +habitually fills one with disgust, and sometimes with indignation. +Persons of good sense, of both sexes, who from month to month, perhaps +from year to year, never wash their skins, nor use much muscular +exercise, ought to know that they must, sooner or later, experience the +dreadful penalty attached to violated physical law, and from which there +is, neither on earth nor in heaven, any possible escape. Can any one +suppose, for a moment, that so curious and complicated an organ as the +skin, and one of such considerable extent, has nothing to do?</p> + +<p>Nearly every living person has some idea, of greater or less intensity, +of pores in the skin; at least, they use language<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> which implies such an +idea. They talk, often, of the necessity of keeping these pores open. +But how is it to be done? Not certainly while they use little or no +muscular exercise, by washing, once a day, their hands and faces merely, +or, as some say, their fingers, their noses, and the tips of their +chins. They may talk, on occasions, very boldly and flippantly, about +<i>sweating</i> away a cold, as they term it; but do they vainly suppose that +the sweat vessels or sweating machinery has nothing to do, from day to +day, which might prevent the necessity of resorting to these sweating +processes?</p> + +<p>Miss L. appeared to be in utter ignorance of any laws of the skin, or of +the digestive or muscular systems. And yet her thoughts had been turned, +often and frequently, to her own feelings and sensations. She would +talk, almost incessantly, if anybody would hear her, about her aches and +pains, and could describe her whole train of feelings, from morning to +evening, with a faithfulness and patience and minuteness that would have +furnished a genius less than Defoe with material sufficient for quite a +huge volume.</p> + +<p>Now I could have visited and counselled Miss L., at least once a week, +with great profit to herself, had she been as intelligent, in general, +as she was familiar with her own sensations. As things were, her +confidence was rather more troublesome than agreeable; but she was, +practically, a standing patient; and physicians, as you know, cannot +choose. They must be, among mankind, like the Great Physician, as they +who "<i>serve</i>;" not as those who are <i>to be served</i>, or accommodated. And +they must serve those who come to them.</p> + +<p>Miss L. was evidently somewhat disappointed, when she found I was not +disposed to give her any medicine. A little, she thought, might +sometimes be useful; a great deal she did not believe in, of course. +Experience had forced upon her some of the lessons of wisdom. However, +she contrived to fasten a good deal of faith on the laws of health, +which I continually held forth to her. In particular, I urged on her the +necessity of endeavoring to keep up what I was wont to call a +centrifugal tendency in her system. A good plump, healthful,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> ever +active, and ever vigorous skin was, as I told her, our only hope in her +case. As a means to this end, and also as a means of withdrawing her +attention from the slavery of a constant attendance on her own +sensations, I urged her to mingle with society much more, and go about +doing good to others, on the great principle, "It is more blessed to +give than to receive." I warned her, however, against the danger of +falling into the habit of giving an account of herself—her woes and +sorrows—to every one she might meet with, who should kindly inquire +about her condition, since it would greatly retard her improvement, even +if it did not keep up or renew her disease.</p> + +<p>Among other things, I ventured to suggest to her the importance of +having something to do—something of a permanent nature. "We hear," I +said, "of gentlemen at large, and you seem to be a lady at large. You +have, in the usual acceptation of the phrase, nothing to do. Would it +not be well for you to take charge of something or of somebody? You +might, perhaps, assume the office of teacher, and take the charge of a +few pupils; or even adopt a child or two as your own, where you might +receive compensation. Or," as I finally added,—for I perceived she +shrunk from all responsibilities of this kind,—"you might, perhaps, +become the mistress of a family."</p> + +<p>On the last mentioned topic, I was also obliged, for obvious reasons, to +speak with considerable caution. She was unsocial, timid, fearful of +being burdened with cares—the very stuff, though she knew it not, that +human life is made of, ay, and human happiness too. But I could not +hesitate to make the trial. My suggestions, however, were of little +avail. She went on for some time, in the old way, and made very little +progress.</p> + +<p>I lost sight of her about this time, and never met her more. The sequel +of her history I only know from report. It is painful in the extreme. It +is, however, the history, in all its essential features, of thousands of +selfish people, who, after all, by dint of numbers, force, and +influence, contrive to rule the world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>Being fully determined to have no cares or responsibilities connected +with children or household, she not only refused to hearken to my +advice, but also to one or more truly kind and promising offers of +marriage. She pursued her selfish course undisturbed, unless by +occasional misgivings, till her brain and nervous system suffered so +severely that she began to approach the confines of insanity.</p> + +<p>It was, however, a considerable time before the silver cord was loosed, +the golden bowl broken, and the wheel broken at the cistern. But the +terrible result at length came. The demands of violated physical law are +inexorable. She was conveyed, as a last resort, in the hope of cure, to +an insane hospital. Here, after many and patient attempts to restore the +crippled and broken down machinery to healthful motion, she ended her +days.</p> + +<p>My female patients were not all equally unfortunate. One I had, whose +case, if minutely described, would present an array of facts painful in +the extreme. She, too, approached the dark regions of insanity; but she +did not enter. She still lives, and is at once a useful and happy woman, +and an excellent wife and housekeeper. As a means to her recovery, +however, she pursued a course diametrically opposite to that pursued by +Miss L. She did not shrink from care and responsibility; on the +contrary, she submitted to both. First, she sought increased activity +and usefulness in her father's family; and, secondly, in a family of her +own.</p> + +<p>Concerning the last mentioned case, I have few misgivings, and equally +few confessions to make. I call it a remarkable case; but it must not be +revealed in its details, for other reasons besides its tediousness. In +the case of Miss L., however, I have one deep and lasting regret.</p> + +<p>In the early part of my acquaintance with her, as a medical man, she +probably had more confidence in my integrity and skill than in those of +any other living individual. She had been early left an orphan; and I +was among the first—perhaps the very first—to take the attitude +towards her of a true<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> father. Such kindness, and especially such +paternal care, never fail to make their impression.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Love, and love only, is the loan for love."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At this early sympathizing period, had I been more faithful, I might, +perhaps, have saved her. But I was remiss—disposed to delay. I waited, +a thousand times, for a better opportunity. I waited till the favorable +moment—ay, the <i>only</i> moment—had passed by.</p> + +<p>Physicians often err here. God gives to many individuals the most +unbounded confidence in medical men; and this remarkable provision of +his has a deep meaning. It is not, however, to the intent that they +should abuse the influence thus secured to them, by filling their +patients' stomachs with pills and powders; but for such purposes, +rather, as have been indicated by the general tenor of the foregoing +remarks. It is that they may give them wise paternal counsel and sound +physiological and pathological instruction.</p> + +<p>Such counsel and such instruction were indeed given to Miss L., but not +to that extent which the nature of the case required, and which a little +more moral courage and Christian plainness would have secured. She was +worth saving, and I might, perchance, have been the honored instrument +of saving her, and of thus rendering to society a most valuable service. +That vital energy of hers which was expended in watching over her own +internal feelings, might have been rendered a much more profitable +investment.</p> + +<p>But the account is closed and sealed, to be agitated or questioned no +more till the inquisitions of the last day. Let such considerations and +reflections as this remark suggests to the human mind have their +intended effect. Let us ever increase our zeal and watchfulness, that we +may avoid such a course of conduct as makes confessions meet, or +needful, or even salutary.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIII" id="CHAPTER_LXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXIII.</h2> + +<h3>A GIANT DYSPEPTIC.</h3> + + +<p>There have been giants in the earth, in nearly every age, if not in +every clime—giants mentally, and giants physically. Of course they may +have been rare exhibitions, and may thus have elicited much attention; +and some of them have attained to quite a memorable place in history.</p> + +<p>There have been and still are, on the earth, giants of other +descriptions. We sometimes even meet with giant dyspeptics. Dyspepsia, +at best, is formidable, many-headed, but not always gigantic. If +gigantic size, in this case, were the general rule, what we now call +giants would, of course, cease to be regarded as such.</p> + +<p>It may be thought that what I shall here call dyspeptic giants, or giant +dyspeptics, were better designated as monsters, than giants. Be it so, +for we will not quarrel about names; though a difficulty might be found +in making the required distinction between giants and monsters; for is +not every giant a monster?</p> + +<p>Not far from the year 1830, perhaps a little earlier, you might have +seen, in connection with a certain private seminary of education, in New +England, one of these giant dyspeptics. I do not mean, of course, that +he had already attained to giant size, but only that what proved in the +result to be gigantic was already a giant in miniature, and was rapidly +advancing to one of magnitude.</p> + +<p>He had early been a cabin boy; and like many other cabin boys, had been +gluttonous, and in some respects intemperate. Not by any means, that he +had ever been guilty of downright intoxication; for of this I have no +certain knowledge. My belief is, however, that he had gone very far in +this direction,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> though he might not have—probably <i>had</i> not—been +justly chargeable with going quite to the last extremity.</p> + +<p>But why should such a young man be found at a seminary of learning? Was +he with "birds of a feather?" Do not these attract each other?</p> + +<p>Mr. Gray, for that is the name I shall give to our young dyspeptic, had +been recently subjected to the influences of one of those seasons of +excitement well known in the religious world by the name of <i>revivals</i>; +and what is not at all uncommon with the rude and uncultivated minds of +even more hardened sailors than he, a great change had come over him. In +short, he had the appearance, in every respect, of being a truly +converted young man.</p> + +<p>Why this change of character had led him to this school-house, may not +at first appear. Yet such a result is by no means unusual. This waking +up the mind, by awakening the soul, and causing it to hunger and thirst +after knowledge, has been observed long since, by those who have had +their eyes open to what was going on around them.</p> + +<p>Young Gray was penniless, and his parents not only poor, but +overburdened with the cares of a large family, so that they could give +him no aid but by their prayers. He was not, however, to be discouraged +by poverty. He agreed to ring the bell, sweep the hall, build fires, +etc., for his board and tuition. As for clothing, he had none, or almost +none. Charity, cold as her hand oftentimes is, supplied him with +something. Dyspepsia had not, as yet, marred his visage or weakened his +energies.</p> + +<p>In his connection with this seminary and others of kindred character, +such as he could attend and yet pay his expenses by his labor, he +became, ere long, able to teach others. Here was a new means of support, +of which he eagerly availed himself. In whatever he undertook, moreover, +he was singularly successful. He was in earnest. An earnest mind, in +connection with an indomitable will—what may it not accomplish? It is +every thing but omnipotent.</p> + +<p>"Heaven but persuades, almighty man decrees," as I have before said, +assuming our old English poets as standard authority;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> but this saying +has more in it than mere poetry. Or, if Heaven more than +persuades—somewhat more—does not man still decree? But I am inclined, +I see, to press this thought, perhaps in undue proportion to its +magnitude. Whether or not it abates one half the guilt, I make the +confession.</p> + +<p>For several years Gray pushed his devious course, through "thick and +thin," sustaining himself chiefly by his teaching. In 1835, he was the +private instructor of a wealthy family in Rhode Island; but so puzzling, +not to say erratic, were some of his movements, that he was not very +popular. Subsequently to this, he was found in another part of New +England, editing a paper, and teaching at the same time a small number +of pupils.</p> + +<p>All this while he paid great attention to physical education; but being +either a charity scholar, or obliged to pay his way by his own +exertions, he had not at command the needful time to render him thorough +in any thing, even in his obedience, as he called it, to Nature's laws. +Nearly all his studies were pursued by snatches, or, at least, with more +or less irregularity.</p> + +<p>In nothing, however, was he more irregular than in his diet. This, to a +person already inclined, as he certainly was, to dyspepsia, was very +unfortunate. Perhaps, as generally happens in such cases, there was +<i>action and reaction</i>. Perhaps, I mean, his dyspeptic tendencies led to +more or less of dietetic irregularity; while the latter, whenever +yielded to, had a tendency, in its turn, to increase his load of +dyspepsia.</p> + +<p>There was, indeed, one apology to be found for his irregularity with +regard to diet, in his extreme poverty. There were times when he was +actually compelled to subsist on the most scanty fare; while his +principles, too, restricted him to very great plainness. In one +instance, for example, after he had finished his preparatory, course of +study and entered college, he subsisted wholly on a certain quantity of +bread daily; and as if not quite satisfied with even this restriction, +while he needed his money so much more for clothing and books, he +purchased stale bread—sometimes that which was imperfect—at a cheaper +rate. Now a diet, exclusively of fine flour bread, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> withal more or +less sour or mouldy, is not very suitable for a dyspeptic, nor yet, +indeed, for anybody whatever. However, he learned, at length, to improve +a little upon this, by purchasing coarse, or Graham bread.</p> + +<p>Subsequently to this period, not being able, either alone or with the +aid of friends, most of whom were poor, to pursue a regular academic +course of instruction, he accepted the proposition that he should become +an assistant teacher in the English department of a school in Europe. +This, he feared, might postpone the completion of his studies, but would +enable him, as he believed, to improve his mind, establish his health, +and add greatly to his experience and to his knowledge of the world. It +would also perfect him in teaching, so far at least as the mere +inculcation of English grammar was concerned.</p> + +<p>His health was by no means improved by a residence of three or four +years in Europe, but rather impaired. He returned to America, in the +autumn of 1839, and as soon as he had partially recovered from the +effects of a tedious and dangerous voyage, went to reside in the family +of a near relative who was a farmer, with a view to learn, for the first +time, what the labors of the farm would do for him.</p> + +<p>Here he often resorted to the same rigid economy which he had before +practised, both at academy and college, and in Europe. The very best +living he would allow himself was a diet exclusively of small +potatoes—those, I mean, from which the larger ones had been separated +for the use of others.</p> + +<p>This, his dyspeptic stomach would not long endure. His digestive and +nervous systems both became considerably deranged; and even his skin, +sympathizing with the diseased lining membrane of his stomach and +intestines, became the seat of very painful boils and troublesome sores. +These, while they indicated still deeper if not more troublesome +disease, gave one encouraging indication—that the recuperative powers +of the system were not as yet irrecoverably prostrated.</p> + +<p>He now came to me and begged to become my patient, and to reside +permanently under my roof, so that he might not only receive such daily +attention and counsel as the circumstances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> required, but also such +food, air, exercise, and ablutions as were needful. He was accordingly +admitted to the rights, privileges, and self-denials of the family.</p> + +<p>Here he spent a considerable time. While under my care, I made every +reasonable exertion for his recovery which I would have made for a +favorite child. Indeed, few children were ever more obedient or docile. +He would sometimes say to me: "Doctor, I have no more power over myself +than a child, and you must treat me <i>as you would</i> a child." Nor was he +satisfied till I restricted his every step, both with regard to the +quantity and quality of his food, and the hours and seasons of bathing, +exercise, reading, etc. It was to me a painful task, and I sometimes +shrunk from it, for the moment. There was, however, no escape. I had +embarked in the enterprise, and must take the consequences.</p> + +<p>At first, his improvement was scarcely perceptible, and I was almost +discouraged. But at length, after much patience and perseverance, the +suffering digestive organs began, in some measure, to resume their +healthful condition, and the whole face of things to wear a different +aspect. He left us to take charge of a public school.</p> + +<p>For some time after the opening of this school, his health seemed to be +steadily improving, and the world around him began to have its charms +again. He was in his own chosen, and, I might say, native element, which +was to him a far more healthful stimulus than any other which could have +been devised, whether by the physician or the physiologist.</p> + +<p>Nothing in this world is so well calculated to preserve and promote +human health, as full and constant employment, of a kind which is +perfectly congenial and healthful, and which we are fully assured is +useful. In other words, the first great law of health is benevolence. It +keeps up in the system that centrifugal tendency of the circulation of +which I have already spoken, and which is so favorable for the rejection +of all effete and irritating matters. It would have been next to +impossible for our Saviour, with head, heart, and hands engaged as his +were, to have sickened; nor was it till the most flagrant physiological<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +transgressions had been long repeated, that even Howard the +philanthropist sickened and died. Not the whole combined force of +malaria and contagion could overcome him, till continual over-fatigue, +persistent cold, and strong tea,—an almost matchless trio,—lent their +aid to give the finishing stroke.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gray was a boarder with a gentleman who kept a grocery store, and +who was glad to employ him on certain days and hours of vacation or +recess, in taking care of the shop and waiting on his customers. Here +the tempter again assailed him, in the form of foreign fruits, raisins, +figs, prunes, oranges, dried fish, cordials, candy, etc. For some time +past he had been wholly unaccustomed to these things; they had even been +forbidden him, especially between his meals. As a consequence of his +indulgences, and his neglect of exercise, his health again declined, and +he came a second time under my care.</p> + +<p>He was partially restored the second time, but not entirely. His labors, +which were teaching still, became more exhausting than formerly. +Cheerfulness, hope, sympathy, conscious usefulness, and the force of +many good habits, sustained him for a time, but not always. His great +labors of body and mind, with a deep sense of responsibility, and the +indulgences to which I have alluded, preyed upon him, and dyspepsia +began once more her reign of tyranny.</p> + +<p>Doubtless he attempted too much here, for he was an enthusiast on the +subject of common schools and common school instruction. And yet, under +almost any circumstances of school-keeping, dyspepsia, nurtured as it +was by every physical habit, would most certainly have assailed him. +With regard to his food and drink he was very unwise. It contributed +largely to an extreme of irritability, which was unfavorable, and which +at the end of a single term compelled him to resign his place and seek +some other employment.</p> + +<p>This was a grievous disappointment to Mr. Gray, and, as some of his +friends believe, was the mountain weight that crushed him. The horrors +of the abyss into which he believed he had plunged himself, were the +more intolerable from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> fact that he now, for the first time, began +to despair of being able to consummate a plan by means of which both his +sorrows and joys, especially the latter, would have been shared by +another.</p> + +<p>Yet, even here, he did not absolutely despair. Hope revived when he +found himself, a third time, my patient. I did all in my power to +encourage him till I had at length, to my own surprise as well as his, +the unspeakable pleasure of finding him again returning to the path of +health and happiness. It is indeed true, that a capricious appetite +still retained its sway, in greater or less degree, and whenever he was +not awed by my presence, he would indulge himself in the use of things +which he knew were injurious to him, as well as in the excessive, not to +say gluttonous, use of such good things as were tolerated. He +occasionally confessed his impotence, and begged us to keep every thing +out of his way, even those remnants which were designed for the domestic +animals!</p> + +<p>And yet, after all, strange to say, he absented himself very frequently, +as if to seek places of retirement, where he could indulge his +tyrannical appetite. I saw most clearly his danger, and spoke to him +concerning it. I appealed to his fears, to his hopes, to his conscience. +I reminded him of the love he bore to humanity, and the regard he had +for Divinity.</p> + +<p>Once more, being partly recruited, he resumed his labors as a teacher. +This was doubtless a wrong measure, and yet I was not aware of the error +at the time, or I should not have encouraged the movement, or assisted +him as I did in procuring a situation. But I then thought he had been +punished so effectually for his transgressions, that he would at length +be wise. Besides he was exceedingly anxious to be at work, and to avoid +dependence, a desire in which his friends participated, and in regard to +which they were so unwise as to express their over anxiety in his +hearing.</p> + +<p>Three months in the school-house found him worse than ever before. He +had attempted to board himself, to subsist on a very few ounces of +"Graham wafers" at each meal, and to be an hour in masticating it. As an +occasional compensation for this, however, a sort of <i>treating +resolution</i>, he allowed himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> to pick up the crusts and other +fragments left about the school-house by his pupils, and when he had +collected quite a pile of these, to indulge his appetite with them, <i>ad +libitum</i>. Nor was this all. He erred in other particulars, perhaps in +many.</p> + +<p>He came to my house a fourth time, but my situation was such that I +could not well receive him. He staid only a day or two, but his +residence with us was long enough to enable me to mark the progress of +his case, and to deplore what I feared must be the final issue. From me +he went to a friend in an adjoining State; not, however, till he had +alluded to certain errors of his recent life that he had not yet +devulged, even to his best friend. "Doctor," said he, "there are some +things that I have not yet told you about."</p> + +<p>To me, also, it belongs, at this point of Gray's lamentable history, to +make confession of great and glaring error. To have received the young +man to my house, and to have devoted myself to the work of endeavoring +again to raise him, would, most undoubtedly, have been a sacrifice to +which few people in my circumstances would have thought themselves +called. Yet, difficult as it was, the sacrifice might have been made. +Had he been my only brother, I should, doubtless, have received him. The +Saviour of mankind, in my circumstances, would probably have taken him +in. Was I not his follower? And was I not bound to do what I believed he +would do, in similar circumstances?</p> + +<p>His more distant friend, but more consistent Christian brother, opened +wide his doors for his reception, and did the best he could for him. It +was his intention, at first, to employ him, as I now think he ought to +have been employed long before; viz., on a small farm. In this point of +view this friend's house was particularly favorable. Yet there were +offsets to this advantage. One thing in particular, cast a shade upon +our efforts in his behalf. It was about April 1st, and the house and +farm had an eastern aspect, and the easterly winds, which at that season +so much prevailed, were very strong and surcharged with vapor at a low +temperature. For a few days after his arrival he was worse than ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was discouragement heaped upon discouragement, and he began soon to +sink under it. For a short time he was the subject of medical treatment. +What was the character of the medicine he took, I never knew. At length +there were signs of convalescence; but no sooner did his bodily health +and strength begin to improve, than his mental troubles began to press +upon him, till he was driven to the very borders of insanity. Indeed, so +strong was the tendency to mental derangement that his relatives +actually carried him, <i>per force</i>, to an insane hospital.</p> + +<p>But his residence at the hospital was very short. Provision having in +the mean time been made for his reception in a private family, among his +acquaintance, and the superintendent of the hospital having advised to +such a course, he was remanded to the country, to familiar faces, and to +a farm.</p> + +<p>On reaching the place assigned him, he became extremely ill,—worse, by +far, than ever before,—so that, for several weeks, his life was +despaired of. But by means of careful medical treatment, and a judicious +and very simple diet, which at the hospital had been exchanged for a +stimulating one, nature once more rallied, and in three or four weeks he +appeared to be in a fair way for recovery. His strength increased, his +mind became clear; his digestive function, though still erratic, +appeared about to resume its natural condition, and to perform once more +its wonted office; and the other troublesome symptoms were all gradually +disappearing, except one;—he had still a very frequent pulse.</p> + +<p>But even this rapid arterial action was at length abating. From a +frequency of the pulse equal to 100, 110, and sometimes 120 in a minute, +it fell in two weeks to from 70 to 75; and this, too, under the +influence of very mild and gentle treatment. There was no reduction of +activity or power, by bleeding, or by blistering, or in any other way; +on the contrary, as I have intimated, there was a general increase of +strength and vigor, both of body, and mind. He did not even take +digitalis or morphine. The prospect, therefore, was, on the whole, truly +encouraging.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>And yet he had a set of friends—relatives, I should say, rather—who +were not satisfied. It was strongly written on their minds that he was +about to die; and they sternly insisted on removing him to his native +home, that if he should die, he might die in the bosom of his own +kindred. I was consulted; but I entered my most solemn protest against +the measure, as both uncalled for and hazardous. It was to no purpose, +however. In their over-kindness they determined to remove him; and the +removal was effected. I ought also to say that though Mr. Gray highly +appreciated their kindness, he was himself opposed to the measure, as +one attended with much hazard.</p> + +<p>On the road to his paternal home, influenced in no small degree by +mental excitement, his delirium returned, and with an intensity that +never afterwards abated. He was, for about three weeks, a most +inveterate and raving maniac, when, worn out prematurely with disease, +he sunk to rise no more till the general resurrection.</p> + +<p>There was no post-mortem examination of this young man, though there +should have been. Not that there was any lurking suspicion of +peculiarity of disease, but because such examinations may always be made +serviceable to the cause of medical science, while they cannot possibly +injure either the dead or the living.</p> + +<p>I have been the more minute in my account of this man, because the case +is an instructive one, both to the professional and non-professional +reader, and also because it places medicine and physicians in the true +light, and holds forth to the world the wonderfully recuperative power +of nature, and the vast importance of giving heed to the laws of health +and to the voice of physiology.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIV" id="CHAPTER_LXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXIV.</h2> + +<h3>GETTING INTO A CIRCLE.</h3> + + +<p>The oddity of some of my captions may seem to require an apology; but I +beg the doubtful reader to suspend any unfavorable decisions, till he +has read the chapter which follows. He will not, either in the present +instance or in any other, be introduced to a magic ring, or to the +mysteries of modern "spiritualism." The circle into which my patient +fell, was of a different description.</p> + +<p>A young mother from the west, about the year 1840, came to consult me +with regard to her health. Not being able to receive her into my own +family, I made arrangements for her reception in the immediate +neighborhood, where she remained for a long time. She was a +dyspeptic—if not of giant magnitude, but little short of it.</p> + +<p>I spent many an hour in endeavoring to set all right, both in mind and +body. It was, however, much easier to set her head right, than her +hands, feet, and stomach. She had been under the care of almost all +sorts of medical men—hydropathic, homoeopathic, and allopathic. Some of +them, from all these schools, had been men of good sense, while a much +larger proportion of them had turned out to be fools, and had done her +more harm than good. In short, like the woman in the New Testament, she +had spent much on many physicians, and was nothing bettered by it, but +rather made worse.</p> + +<p>Under such circumstances what ground was there for hope? What she most +needed, it was easy to see, was a little more of resolution to carry out +and complete what she believed to be her duty. I told her so. I told her +how many times I had repeated to her the same directions; while she, +after the lapse of a very few days,—sometimes only a day or two,—had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +come round again, in her remarks and inquiries, to the very point whence +she had first started. I told her how easy a thing this getting into a +circle was, and how difficult it was to escape from it.</p> + +<p>Although she perfectly understood her condition, there was still a +strange and almost unaccountable reaching forth for something beyond the +plain path of nature, which I had faithfully and repeatedly pointed out +to her. She wished for some shorter road, something mysterious or +magical. She was, in short, a capital subject for humbuggery, had she +not tried it already to her heart's content.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, I must confess, I felt somewhat disposed to put her on the +"starvation plan," as Dr. Johnson calls it,—on a diet of two pints only +of plain gruel (thin hasty pudding, rather) a day,—for she would have +borne it much better than did Mr. Gray, of the preceding chapter. I am +sorry I did not. However, I prescribed for her, in general, very well; +and, except in the last-mentioned particular, have no reason for regret +nor any call for confessions.</p> + +<p>She remained under my care several weeks—all the while in a mill-horse +track or circle, beginning at the same point and coming round to the +same result or issue, when I frankly told her, one day, that it was a +great waste, both of time and money, for her to remain longer. I saw, +more and more clearly, that all her thoughts were concentrated on her +own dear self. <i>Her</i> troubles, <i>her</i> health, <i>her</i> concerns, <i>her</i> +prospects in life and death, were, to her, of more importance than all +the world besides. No woman, as good as she was,—for she was, +professedly, a disciple of him who said to his followers, "Feed my +lambs,"—whom I have ever seen, was so completely wrapped up in self, +and so completely beyond the pale of the world of benevolence.</p> + +<p>My final advice to her, in addition to that general change of personal +habits which, from the first, I had strongly recommended to her, was to +return to her native city, and, after making her resolution and laying +her plan, give herself no rest, permanently, till by personal appeal or +otherwise she had brought all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> the females within her reach into +maternal associations, moral reform societies, and the like.</p> + +<p>On her return to her husband and children, she made an attempt to carry +out the spirit of my prescription, and not without a good degree of +success. But the great benefit which resulted from it—that, indeed, +which it was my ultimate object to secure—was that it diverted her +thoughts from their inward, selfish tendency, and placed her on better +ground as to health than she had occupied for some time before.</p> + +<p>I saw her no more for ten or twelve years. Occasionally, it is true, I +heard from her, that she was better. Yet she was never entirely well. +She was never entirely beyond the circle in which she had so long moved. +She returned, at times, to medical advice and medicine; but, so far as I +could learn, with little permanent good effect. She died about twelve +years after she left my "guardianship," an extreme sufferer, as she had +lived; and a sufferer from causes that a correct education and just +views of social life, and of health and disease, would, for the most +part, have prevented.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXV" id="CHAPTER_LXV"></a>CHAPTER LXV.</h2> + +<h3>POISONING WITH MAPLE SUGAR.</h3> + + +<p>A particular friend of mine purchased one day, at a stand in the city, +two small cakes of maple sugar. It was early in the spring, and very +little of the article had as yet been manufactured. My friend, in his +eagerness, devoured them immediately. He observed, before eating them, +that they had a very dark appearance; but the taste was correct, as far +as he could judge, and he did not hesitate. He was one of those +individuals, moreover, who are not greatly given to self-denial in the +matter of appetite.</p> + +<p>The next day he had as sore a mouth as I ever saw. The inflammation +extended not only to the back part of the mouth, but into the throat, +and probably quite into the stomach, and was attended with a most +distressing thirst, with loss of appetite, and occasional nausea. In +short, it unfitted him for business the whole day; indeed it was many +days before he recovered entirely.</p> + +<p>My own conclusion, after a careful investigation of the facts, was, that +the sugar was cooled down in vessels of iron, which were, in some way, +more or less oxydated or rusted, and that a small quantity of free acid +having been, by some means unknown, developed in the sugar, it entered +into a chemical combination with the metallic oxyde, to form a species +of copperas—perhaps the genuine sulphate of iron itself.</p> + +<p>No medicine was given, nor was any needed. It was sufficient to let the +system rest, till Nature, with the assistance of small quantities of +water,—such as she was constantly demanding,—could eject the intruding +foe. It required only a little patient waiting.</p> + +<p>There is scarcely a doubt that the sufferer learned, from his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +experiment, one important lesson; viz., to let alone every thing which, +by cooking, has been changed to a dark color. Beets are sometimes +blackened by cooking in iron vessels, as well as sugar; and so are +apples and apple-sauce, and sundry other fruits and vegetables.</p> + +<p>The word apple-sauce reminds me of an incident that recently occurred in +my own family. A kind neighbor having sent us some apple-sauce, such of +the family as partook of it freely, suffered, soon afterward, in a way +that led to the suspicion of poison. This apple-sauce was quite +dark-colored, but tasted well enough.</p> + +<p>We have seen, in Chapter XXVIII., that in the use of apple-sauce, or +apple butter, or, indeed, any thing containing an acid, which has been +in contact with the inner surface of red earthen ware, glazed with the +oxyde of lead, people are sometimes poisoned; but for common, plain, +apple-sauce, recently cooked, to be poisonous, is rather unusual. +However, we can hardly be too careful in these matters. Serious evils +have sometimes arisen from various kinds of complicated cookery, even +when the healthiness of the vessels used was quite above suspi. A +powerful argument this in favor of simplicity.</p> + +<p>It should also be remembered, with regard to sugar, that this is a +substance whose use, even when known to be perfectly innoxious, is, at +best, of doubtful tendency, beyond the measure which the Divine Hand has +incorporated into the various substances which are prepared for our use. +That sugar, in considerable quantities, leads to fulness, if not to +fatness, is no proof of its healthfulness; since fatness itself is a +sign of disease in man and all other animals, as has, of late, been +frequently and fully demonstrated.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVI" id="CHAPTER_LXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXVI.</h2> + +<h3>PHYSICKING OFF MEASLES.</h3> + + +<p>The father of a large family came to me one day, and, with unwonted +politeness, inquired after my health. Of course, I did not at first +understand him, but time and patience soon brought every thing to light. +His family, he said, were all sick with measles, except his wife, and he +wished to ask me a question or two.</p> + +<p>The truth is, he wanted to consult me professionally, without paying a +fee; and yet he felt a little delicacy about it. But I was accustomed to +such things; for his was neither the first nor the hundredth application +of the kind; so I was as polite as he was, in return.</p> + +<p>Another individual stood near me just at that moment, who supposed he +had a prior claim to my attention; and I was about to leave Mr. M. for a +moment, when he said, in a low voice, and in a fawning manner: "I +suppose, doctor, it is necessary to physic off well for the measles; is +it not? The old women all say it is; but I thought that, as I saw you, +it might be well to ask."</p> + +<p>This species of robbery is so common, that few have any hesitancy about +practising it. Mr. M., though passing for a pattern of honesty and good +breeding, wherever he was known, was nevertheless trained to the same +meanness with the rest of the neighborhood where I resided, and was +quite willing—even though a faint consciousness of his meanness chanced +to come over him now and then—to defraud me a little in the fashionable +or usual manner.</p> + +<p>Perhaps I may be thought fastidious on this point. But though I have +been sponged,—I may as well again say robbed,—in this or a similar +way, a hundred or a thousand times, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> believe I never complained so +loudly before. Yet it is due to the profession of medicine, and to those +who resort to it, that I should give my testimony against a custom which +ought never to have obtained foothold.</p> + +<p>But to return to our conversation;—for I was never mean enough to +refuse to give such information as was required, to the best of my +abilities, even though I never expected, directly or indirectly, to be +benefited by it;—I told him, at once, that if costiveness prevailed at +the beginning of convalescence, in this disease, some gentle laxative +might be desirable; but that, in other circumstances, no medicine could +be required, the common belief to the contrary notwithstanding.</p> + +<p>Mr. M. seemed not a little surprised at this latter statement, and yet, +on the whole, gratified. It was, to him, a new doctrine, and yet he +thought it reasonable. He never could understand, he said, what need +there was of taking "physic," when the body was already in a good +condition.</p> + +<p>This physicking off disease is about as foolish as taking physic to +prevent it—of which I have said so much in Chapter XI. and elsewhere. I +do not, indeed, mean to affirm that it is quite as fatal; though I know +not but it may have been fatal in some instances. Death from measles is +no very uncommon occurrence in these days. Now how do we know whether it +is the disease that kills or the medicine?</p> + +<p>And when we physic off, in the way above mentioned, how know we, that +if, very fortunately, we do not kill, some other disease may not be +excited or enkindled? You are aware, both from what has been said in +these pages, and from your own observation, that measles are not +unfrequently followed by dropsy, weak eyes, and other troubles. No +individual, perhaps, is, by constitution, less inclined to dropsy than +myself; yet he who has read carefully what I have noted in Chapter IV., +will not be confident of his own safety in such circumstances. Yet if +they are endangered who are least predisposed to this or any other +disease, where is the safety of those who inherit such a +predisposition?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVII" id="CHAPTER_LXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXVII.</h2> + +<h3>TIC DOULOUREUX.</h3> + + +<p>Some fifty years ago, I saw in a Connecticut paper, a brief notice of +the death of an individual in Wellingworth, in that State, from a +disease which, as the paper proceeded to state,—and justly too,—not +one in a million had then ever felt, and which not many at that time had +ever heard of; viz., <i>tic douloureux</i>.</p> + +<p>This notice, though it may have excited much curiosity,—it certainly +arrested my own attention,—did not give us much light as to the nature +of the disease. "What <i>is</i> tic douloureux?" I asked my friends; for at +that time, of course, I knew nothing of the study of medicine. They +could not tell me. "Why do medical men," I asked, "give us such strange +names? Is it to keep up the idea of mystery, as connected with the +profession, in order thus to maintain an influence which modest worth +cannot secure?"</p> + +<p>It was largely believed at that time, by myself and many others, that +science, like wealth,—especially medical science,—was aristocratical; +that the learned world, though they saw the republican tendencies of +things, were predisposed to throw dust in the people's eyes as long as +they could. The fact that almost all our medicines, whether in the +condition in which we see them labelled at the apothecary's shop, or as +prescribed by the family physician, have Latin names,—was often quoted +in proof of this aristocratic feeling and tendency.</p> + +<p>Now there was doubtless some foundation for this opinion. Medical men +did then and still very generally do believe, that it is better, on the +whole, for the mass of mankind to have nothing to do with these matters, +except at the prescription of those who have given the best part of +their lives to the study of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> medicine and disease. That they are weapons +of so much power, that even physicians—men who only partially +understand the human constitution and their influence on it—are almost +as likely to do harm with them as good, and that it is quite enough for +society to bear the evils which are connected with the regular study and +practice of the profession, without enduring a much larger host, +inflicted by those who have other professions and employments, and must +consequently be still more ignorant than their physicians. And may not +this be one reason why a foreign language has been so long retained in +connection with the names of diseases and medicines?</p> + +<p>But though physicians entertain the belief alluded to, and though it +were founded in truth, it does not thence follow that mankind are to +remain in ignorance of the whole subject of life and health, nor is it +the intention of enlightened medical men that they shall. The latter are +much more ready, as a general rule, to encourage among mankind the study +of the most appropriate means of preventing disease, than they are +willing to take the needful pains. In short, though physicians by their +slowness to act, in this particular, are greatly faulty, the world as a +mass are still more so.</p> + +<p>I was speaking, at first, of tic douloureux. This is a painful affection +of a nerve or a cluster of nerves. When it first began to be spoken of, +it was confined chiefly to an expansion of nerve at the side of the +face, called in anatomical works <i>pes anserina</i>. But, of late years, it +has been found to attack various nerves and clusters of nerves in +different parts of the body. In truth, under the general name of +neuralgia, which means about the same thing, we now have tic douloureux +of almost every part of the human system, and it has become so common +that instead of one in a million, we have probably one or two if not +more in every hundred, who have suffered from it in their own persons.</p> + +<p>About the year 1840, I had a patient who was exceedingly afflicted with +this painful disease. She was, at the same time, consumptive. The +neuralgia was but a recent thing; the consumption had been of many +years' standing, and was probably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> inherited. The physicians of her +native region had exhausted their skill on her to no purpose.</p> + +<p>There was no hope of aid, in her case, from medicine. The only thing to +be done was to invigorate her system, and thus palliate the neuralgia +and postpone the consumption. She was accordingly placed under the most +rigid restrictions which the code of physical law could demand. She was +required to attend to exercise and bathing with great care; to avoid +over anxiety and fretfulness; to drink water, and to eat the plainest +food. It was not intended to interdict <i>nutritious</i> food; but only that +which was <i>over-stimulating</i>.</p> + +<p>It required considerable time to show her and her friends the practical +difference between nutrition and stimulation. They thought, as thousands +have thought beside them, that without a stimulating diet she could not +be properly nourished. But they learned at length that good bread of all +sorts, rice, peas, beans, and fruits, especially the first two, while +they were unstimulating, were even more nutritious than the more +stimulating articles of flesh, fish, fowl, butter, and milk and its +products.</p> + +<p>The treatment to which she was directed was at length pretty carefully +followed. The Friends—of which religious connection she was a +member—are generally thorough, when we gain their full confidence. Her +health was so far restored, that at one period I entertained strong +hopes of her ultimate recovery; or, at least of a recovery which would +permit of her continuance some twenty or twenty-five years longer. But +after seven or eight years of comfortable though not very firm health, +she again declined. She died at forty years of age.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXVIII" id="CHAPTER_LXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>COLD WATER IN FEVER.</h3> + + +<p>My daughter, then about three years of age, was feverish; and as the +lung fever was somewhat prevalent, the family became considerably +alarmed.</p> + +<p>On examination, I found a strong tendency to the head. The eye was +heavy, the head hot and painful, and the tongue thickly coated. The +digestive system was disordered, and the skin was collapsed, inactive, +and cold. The extremities, especially the feet, were particularly cold +and pale.</p> + +<p>The days of hydropathy had now arrived; but I was not a full convert, as +I have already told you, to the exclusive use of cold water in disease. +However, a case was before me which obviously demanded it. So I +proceeded to make frequent applications of Nature's drug to the top of +her head, and to the temples, while I ordered warm and stimulating +applications to the feet and ankles.</p> + +<p>This treatment had the effect to render her condition somewhat more +comfortable during the day, but at evening the fever returned, and +during the night was violent. The tendency to the head was so great as +to cause delirium. The anxiety of the family became very great. In the +morning, however, she was rather better, so that hope again revived.</p> + +<p>During the day the fever increased again, and towards evening and during +the whole night was accompanied by restlessness and delirium. But we +only persevered with the more earnestness in the use of what we believed +to be the most rational treatment. She had, however, a very sick night. +The next morning she was again better, though, as might have been +expected, somewhat more feeble than she was twenty-four hours before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>Most parents, I know, and not a few wise medical men among us, would +have resorted to powders and pills; but we only persevered with our cold +applications to the head, and our stimulating draughts to the feet. The +bowels were in a very tolerable condition, otherwise a very mild +cathartic might possibly have been administered. We had very strong +hopes,—at least I had,—that nature would be too strong for the +disease, and that the fever would, ere long, begin to abate.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon the fever increased again, in some degree, and there +was a slight delirium during the succeeding night. She slept a little, +however, towards morning, after which she was evidently much better. +This third day was passed away very comfortably, and she slept well +during the succeeding night. The fourth morning she seemed to be quite +restored.</p> + +<p>Now a case of fever treated with emetics, diaphoretics, etc., and +followed up with the usual paraphernalia of customary medical practice, +which should yield so promptly and so immediately, would be supposed to +be cured by the medicine; and the cure would very probably be regarded +as rather remarkable; and if there was any peculiarity in the treatment, +if the diaphoretic powders, for example, had any new or strange name, +the practice would, peradventure, be thought worth imitating in other +apparently similar cases of disease.</p> + +<p>For myself, however, I simply regard it as one of Nature's own cures, +unobstructed and unembarrassed by medicine. As the child was young and +tenacious of life, she might very probably have recovered under the more +common routine of medical treatment. But would there have been any +advantage in such a recovery, over one which was equally rapid and +perfect without the aid of medicine? Would there, in the latter case, +have been no hazard to the constitution?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIX" id="CHAPTER_LXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXIX.</h2> + +<h3>COLD-TAKING AND CONSUMPTION.</h3> + + +<p>In Chapter XXIII., I have given a full account of my partial recovery +from consumption. I have even spoken of the postponement as if it were +complete and final. More than twenty years had now passed away, and I +had begun to indulge the hope that I should never have another relapse.</p> + +<p>As one element of this hope, I had nearly broken up the habit—once very +strong—of taking cold, especially on my lungs. In truth, I believed all +danger from this source to be entirely removed, and my particular +susceptibility to any thing like acute pulmonary attacks forever at an +end. I was confident, moreover, that the art of avoiding cold was an art +which not only an individual, here and there, like myself, could +acquire, but one which was within the reach of every one who would take +the needful pains.</p> + +<p>On a certain occasion of this latter kind, I was under a conventional +necessity of exposing myself, in an unusual degree, for several +successive evenings, to circumstances which, at an earlier period of my +life, would, almost inevitably, have been followed by a cold. Was it +safe, in my present condition, to run the risk? I hesitated for some +time, but finally decided to comply with the request which had been +made, and take the responsibility. I believed my susceptibility to cold +so entirely eradicated that there was little if any danger.</p> + +<p>But, as the event proved, I was quite mistaken; a severe cold came on, +and left me in a condition not merely alarming, but immediately so. My +lungs were greatly oppressed and my cough exceedingly severe and +harassing; and it was followed with great debility and rapid emaciation.</p> + +<p>Ashamed of myself, especially as I had boasted, for so many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> years, of +an entire freedom from all tendencies of this sort, I endeavored, for a +few days, to screen myself entirely from the public eye and observation. +But I soon found that inaction, especially confinement to the house, +would not answer the purpose,—that I should certainly die if I +persisted in my seclusion.</p> + +<p>What now should I do? I was too feeble to work much, although the season +had arrived when labor in the garden was beginning to be needed. Trees +were to be pruned and washed, and other things promptly attended to. The +open air was also the best remedy for my enfeebled and irritated +bronchial cavities. Whether there was, at this time, any ulceration of +tubercles in my lungs, is, to say the least, very doubtful. However, I +greatly needed the whole influence of out-of-door employment, or of +travelling abroad; and, as it seemed to me, could not long survive +without it.</p> + +<p>Accordingly I took my pruning knife in my hand, and walked to the +garden. It was about a quarter of a mile distant, and quite unconnected +with the house I occupied. At first, it was quite as much as I could do +to walk to the garden and return without attempting any labor. Nor could +I have done even this, had I not rested several times, both on the road +and in the enclosure itself.</p> + +<p>It was a week before I was able to do more than merely walk to the +garden and back, and perhaps prune a small fruit tree or shrub, and then +return. But I persevered. It seemed a last if not a desperate resort; +yet hope sometimes whispered that my hour had not yet come, that I had +more work to perform.</p> + +<p>At length I began to perceive a slight increase of muscular strength. I +could work moderately a quarter of an hour or more, and yet walk home +very comfortably. In about two months, I had strength enough to continue +my labors several hours, in the course of a whole day, though not in +succession—perhaps two in the forenoon and two in the afternoon. In +about three months, I was, so far as I could perceive, completely +restored.</p> + +<p>It is to be remarked and remembered that, during the whole<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> three +months, I never took the smallest particle of medicine, either solid or +fluid. My simple course was to obey, in the most rigid and implicit +manner, all known laws, physical and moral. It was my full belief at +that time,—it is still my belief,—that conformity to all the Creator's +laws is indispensable to the best of health, in every condition of human +life, but particularly so when we are already feeble and have a tendency +to consumption.</p> + +<p>When it became known to my neighbors, who saw me day after day, reeling +to my garden or staggering home, that I refused to take any medicine, +there was a very general burst of surprise, and, in some cases, of +indignation. "Why," said they, "what does the man mean? He must be +crazy. As he is going on he will certainly die of a galloping +consumption. Any one that will act so foolishly almost <i>deserves</i> to +die."</p> + +<p>As soon as I found myself fairly convalescent, I returned gradually to +all those practices on which I had so long relied as a means of +fortifying myself, but which, since my <i>fall</i>, had been partially +omitted. Among these was bathing, especially cold bathing. To the last, +however, I returned very cautiously. Not for fear I should not be able +to secure a reaction, but rather for fear Nature would have to spend +more <i>vitality</i> during the process than she could well afford to spare.</p> + +<p>I have known cases of the latter kind. An aged minister in Cleveland, +Ohio, who had long followed the practice of cold bathing every morning, +came to me in Dec. 1851, when the cold weather was very intense, and +told me that though he could, with considerable effort, get up a +reaction in his system after the bath, he was afraid it <i>cost</i> too much. +I advised him to suspend it a few weeks, which he did with evident +advantage.</p> + +<p>There are, however, many other things to be done besides giving due +attention to cold bathing, if we would harden ourselves fully against +taking cold, to which I should be glad to advert were it not foreign to +the plan I had formed, and the limits which, in this work, I have +prescribed to myself.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXX" id="CHAPTER_LXX"></a>CHAPTER LXX.</h2> + +<h3>FREEZING OUT DISEASE.</h3> + + +<p>I am well acquainted with one man of Yankee origin, who formerly made it +a practice to freeze out his colds, as he called it. It is certainly +better to prevent them, as I have all along and always taught. But this +man's story is somewhat amusing, and by way of relief from our more +sober subject, I will very briefly relate it.</p> + +<p>Whenever he fancied he had taken cold, he would go, at about nine +o'clock in the evening, in such diminished clothing as would render him +in a very little time, quite chilly, and remain out of doors, when the +weather would possibly permit, till he was almost frozen, and then come +in and go immediately to bed, and procure a reaction. This he called +freezing out his colds. Whether it was the cold or the heat that +restored him, may be a point not yet fully settled; but it was a +well-known fact to his friends, though they insisted in protesting +against the practice, that every vestige of his cold would frequently, +if not always, immediately disappear.</p> + +<p>But it was a method of treatment which, as the event proved, was not +without its hazards. I met with him a few years since, and on inquiring +whether he continued to be as successful as formerly in freezing out his +colds, he replied that for some time past he had not tried the plan, +for, on a former occasion, after many successful experiments, he had +failed in one, and had concluded to relinquish it. He made no farther +confessions for himself, but his friends have since told me that in the +case he faintly alluded to, he came very near dying under the process. +He was sick with a fever, as the consequence, for a long time.</p> + +<p>A man in one of the Middle States, who is himself about half a +physician, and who has in various ways done much for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> his fellow-men as +a philanthropist, is accustomed to pursue a course of treatment which, +though slightly related to the former, is, nevertheless, founded on +principle. He keeps the sick in a room whose temperature is very +low,—little, if at all, above the freezing point,—in order that they +may inhale a full supply of oxygen. For every one doubtless knows that +the colder the air, the denser it is, and consequently, the greater the +absolute quantity of oxygen inhaled at each breath. By compelling his +patients, however weak and feeble, to breathe a cold atmosphere, he +secured to them an increased and full supply of oxygen.</p> + +<p>To prevent his patients from suffering, in consequence of the external +atmospheric cold, he keeps them in warm beds, and only suffers them to +be out of bed a very short time, at long intervals. And while out of bed +even, they are rubbed rapidly, in order to prevent any collapse of the +skin from the cold. I knew him to keep a very delicate female, who was +scrofulous if not consumptive, for several weeks of the coldest part of +the winter, in a room whose temperature seldom exceeded 30° to 40°, +scarcely permitting her to go out of it night or day, and what is still +more curious, she slowly recovered under the treatment, and is +now—seven or eight years afterwards—in the enjoyment of excellent +health.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXI" id="CHAPTER_LXXI"></a>CHAPTER LXXI.</h2> + +<h3>THE AIR-CURE.</h3> + + +<p>The individual alluded to in the preceding chapter, once sent for me to +come and aid him for a time. He was the proprietor of a somewhat +dilapidated water-cure establishment, which he wished to convert into +what he chose to denominate an air-cure. For though half a physician +himself, he had usually employed men of education to assist him; but, +not having been quite fortunate in his selection, in every instance, he +was disposed to make trial of myself.</p> + +<p>In expressing to me his desires, he said he understood, perfectly well, +my position. He well knew, in the first place, that I was not a +hydropathist, but a regular, old-school physician, with this +modification: that I had, for the most part, lost my faith in medicine, +and relied chiefly on the recuperative efforts of Nature. He thought, on +some points, as he said, a little differently from me; still, he +supposed that wherein we could not agree we could at least agree to +differ.</p> + +<p>The sum total of his wishes, in short, was, that I would aid him in such +way and manner as might seem to me best. He believed air to be the most +important and efficient remedial agent in the world. His ideas of the +virtue of this ærial fluid were hardly exceeded by those of Mr. +Thackrah, of Leeds, England, who believes that we subsist more on air +than on food and drink.</p> + +<p>I was with this good man about six months, when, finding it impossible +to carry out his plan, I left him. But I left him with regret. His +purposes were generous in the extreme—I might even say noble. He loved +to cure for the pleasure of curing—not for the emolument. In short, he +seemed to have no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> regard to the emolument—not the slightest, and to be +as nearly disinterested as usually falls to the human lot.</p> + +<p>But did he cure? you will perhaps inquire. Yes, if <i>anybody</i> cures. +Persons came under his care who had been discharged by other +physicians—both allopathic and homœopathic—as incurable; and who +yet, in a reasonable time, regained their health. They followed our +directions, obeyed the laws of health, and recovered. You may call it +what you please—either cure or spontaneous recovery. Miracle, I am +quite sure, it was not.</p> + +<p>What, then, were the agencies employed in the air-cure? My friend +believed that the judicious application of pure air, in as concentrated, +and, therefore, as cool a state as possible, particularly to the +internal surface of the lungs, was more important than every other +agency, and even more important than all others. But then he did not +forget the skin. He had his air bath, as well as his deep breathings; it +was as frequently used, and was, doubtless, as efficacious.</p> + +<p>He also placed great reliance on good food and drink. Animal food he +rejected, and condiments. I have neither known nor read of any +vegetarian, of Britain or America, who carried his dietetic +peculiarities to what would, by most, be regarded as an extreme, more +than he. And yet his patients, with few exceptions, submitted to it with +a much better grace than I had expected. Some of them, it is true, took +advantage of his absence or their own, and made a little infringement +upon the rigidity of his prescriptions, but these were exceptions to the +general rule; and I believe the transgressors themselves regretted it in +the end—fully satisfied that every indulgence was but a postponement of +the hour of their discharge.</p> + +<p>One thing was permanently regarded as ultra. He did not believe in +breakfasting; and therefore kept every patient, who wished to come under +his most thorough treatment, from the use of food till about the middle +of the day. This permitted of but two meals a day, which, however, is +one more than has sometimes been recommended by O. S. Fowler, the +phrenologist, and even by a few others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>The main error, however, of this air-cure practice,—if error there was +in it,—consisted in the idea of its applicability to everybody, in +every circumstance. For though it may be true that as large a proportion +of inveterate cases of disease would disappear under such treatment as +under any other, yet there are probably not a few to whom it would be +utterly unadapted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXII" id="CHAPTER_LXXII"></a>CHAPTER LXXII.</h2> + +<h3>THE CLERGYMAN.</h3> + + +<p>An Ohio clergyman, just setting out in his ministerial career, consulted +me, one day, about his health and future physical prospects. His nervous +system and cerebral centre had been over-taxed and partially prostrated; +and his digestive and muscular powers were suffering from sympathy. In +short, he was a run-down student, who, in order to be resuscitated, +needed rest.</p> + +<p>It was not, however, the rest of mere inertia that he required, but rest +from those studies to which his attention had been long and patiently +confined. His bodily powers were, indeed, flagging with the rest; but +then it was impossible for him to be restored without <i>some</i> exercise. +In truth, it was not so much a <i>rest</i> of body, mind, or heart that he +needed, as a <i>change</i>.</p> + +<p>I will tell you what a course he had been, for five or six years, +pursuing. Though his father was reckoned among the wealthier farmers of +Ohio, yet, having a large family to sustain and educate, he did not feel +at full liberty to excuse his children from such co-operation with him +as would not materially interfere with their studies. Hence they were +required—and this son among the rest—not only to be as economical as +possible, in all things, but also to earn as much as they could, +especially during their vacations. They were not, of course, expected to +do any thing which was likely to impair their health, but, on the +contrary, to take every possible pains to preserve the latter, and to +hold labor and study and every thing else in subserviency to it.</p> + +<p>The son for whom I was requested to prescribe, not only attended to his +father's wishes and expectations, and endeavored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> to fulfil them, but +went much farther than was intended, and did more than he ought. Besides +keeping up with his class, he taught school a very considerable portion +of the time, so that his mental apparatus, as I have already more than +intimated, was continually over-taxed; and he had been a sufferer, more +or less, for several years, when I met with him.</p> + +<p>My advice was that he should leave his studies, entirely, for two years, +and labor moderately, in the meantime, on his father's farm. His +principal objection to doing so, was, that he was already at an age so +much advanced, that it seemed to him like a wrong done to society, to +delay entering upon the duties of the ministry two whole years. But I +reasoned the case with him as well as I could, and, among other things, +pointed out to him the course pursued by his Divine Master.</p> + +<p>I have never met with him from that day to this; nor have I ever +received from him—strange as it may seem—any communication on the +subject. But I have been informed from other sources, that after +laboring for a time with his father, he was settled as a minister in a +neighboring village with greatly improved health and highly encouraging +prospects. He is at the present time one of the main pillars, +theologically, of the great State of New York, and, as I have reason for +believing, is in the enjoyment of good health.</p> + +<p>It is easy to see that the time he spent on his father's farm, instead +of being a loss to him, was, in the end, among the most important parts +of the work of his education. How much better it was for him to recruit +his wasted energies before he took upon him the full responsibilities of +preacher and pastor in a large country church and congregation, than to +rush into the ministry prematurely, with the prospect, amounting almost +to a certainty, of breaking down in a few years, and spending the +remnant of his days in a crippled condition,—to have the full +consciousness that had he been wise he might have had the felicity of a +long life of usefulness, and of doing good to the souls and bodies of +mankind.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIII" id="CHAPTER_LXXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>HE MUST BE PHYSICKED, OR DIE.</h3> + + +<p>Mr. S., a very aged neighbor of mine, fell into habits of such extreme +inactivity of the alimentary canal, that instead of invoking the aid of +Cloacinà, as Mr. Locke would say, every day, he was accustomed to weekly +invocations only. There was, however, a single exception. In the month +of June, of each year, he was accustomed to visit the seaside, some +twenty miles or more distant, and remain there a few days, during which +and for a short time afterward, his bowels would perform their wonted +daily office.</p> + +<p>And yet, despite of all this, he got along very well during summer and +autumn, for a man who was over seventy years of age. It was not till +winter—sometimes almost spring—that his health appeared to suffer as +the consequence of his costiveness. Nor was it certain, even then, +whether his inconveniences,—for they hardly deserved the name of +sufferings,—arose from his costiveness, or from the croakings of +friends and his own awakened fears and anxieties. Nearly every one who +knew of the facts in his case was alarmed, and many did not hesitate to +cry out, even in his hearing, "He must be physicked, or die!" And their +fears and croakings, by leading him to turn his attention to his +internal feelings, greatly added to his difficulties.</p> + +<p>My principal aim, as his friend and physician, was to convince him that +there was no necessity of anxiety on the subject, as long as none of the +various functions of the system were impaired. As long as digestion, +circulation, respiration, perspiration, etc., were tolerably well +performed, and his general health was not on the decline, it was not +very material, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> I assured him, whether his alvine movements were once +a day, once in two days, or once a week.</p> + +<p>The various emunctories or outlets of the body should, undoubtedly, be +kept open and free, so that every portion of worn-out or effete matter +may be effectually got rid of. In order to have this done in the very +best manner, it is indispensably necessary that we should eat, drink, +breathe, sleep, and exercise the muscles and all the mental and moral +powers daily. And yet we are to such an extent the creatures of habit, +that we can, in all these respects, bring ourselves to almost any thing +we choose, and yet pass on, for a time, very comfortably. Thus we may +eat once, twice, thrice, or five times a day, and if possessed of a good +share of constitutional vigor, we may even accustom ourselves to +considerable variation from the general rule with regard to drinking, +sleeping, exercise, temperature, etc. Healthy men have been able to +maintain their health, in tolerable measure, for a long time, without +drink, without exercise, and even without sleep. Of the truth of this +last remark, I could give you, did time and space permit, many +well-attested, not to say striking facts.</p> + +<p>I was not wholly successful in my attempts at quieting the mind and +feelings of my aged patient or his friends. And yet his erratic habit +was never entirely broken up. He lived to the age of fourscore without +suffering much more from what are usually called the infirmities of age, +than most other old men. It must not, however, be concealed that he +possessed what has been sometimes denominated an iron constitution.</p> + +<p>Mr. Locke strongly insists that children should be trained, from the +very first, to diurnal habits of the kind in question; and I cannot help +thinking that such habits should be secured very early—certainly at +eight or ten years of age. Some of the healthiest men and women I have +ever known were those who had either been trained or had trained +themselves in this way. And yet I would not be so anxious to bring +nature back to this rule when there have been large digressions, as to +be found administering cathartics on every trifling occasion.</p> + +<p>An old man, who eats little and exercises still less, but has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> a good +pulse, a good appetite, and a free perspiration, with a cheerful mind, +need not take "physic" merely because his bowels do not move more than +once a week; nor need those who are feverish, and who eat and exercise +but little. The disturbance which will ensue, if medicine be taken, may +be productive of more mischief, on the whole, than the absorption into +the system of small portions of the retained excretions, or the small +amount of irritation they produce—and probably will be so.</p> + +<p>It will be a solace to some to know that the alvine excretions of the +system are not so much the remnants of our food, when that food is such +as it should be, as a <i>secretion</i> from the internal or lining membrane +of the bowels. Consequently, if this secretion is interrupted by +disease, there will be a proportionally diminished necessity for alvine +evacuations.</p> + +<p>Prof. ——, of Ohio, had been sick of fever, for a long time, and, on +the departure of the disease, his bowels were left in such a condition +that cathartics, or at least laxatives, began to be thought of; but his +physician interdicted their use: His costiveness continued to the +twenty-first day, without any known evil as the consequence. On this day +nature rallied. Then followed a period of quiescence of fourteen days, +and then another of seven days, after which he fell into his former +diurnal habits. There was much croaking among the neighbors, on account +of the treatment of his physician; but the results put all to silence.</p> + +<p>The case of Judge ——, in the interior of the same State (Ohio), was so +much like that of Prof. ——, in all its essential particulars, that I +need but to state the fact, without entering at all upon the details.</p> + +<p>J. W. G., a lawyer of Massachusetts, was sick with a lingering +complaint, attended with more or less of fever, for several months. +During this time there was one interval, of more than thirty days, +during which his bowels did not move. And yet there was no evidence of +any permanent suffering as the consequence.</p> + +<p>The principal use I would make of these facts, so far as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> mass of +general readers is concerned, is the following: If, during feebleness +and sickness, human nature will bear up, for a long time, under +irregularities of this sort, is it needful that we should be alarmed and +fly at once to medicine in cases <i>less</i> alarming—above all, in these +cases, when, except in regard to costiveness, the health and habits are +excellent? May we not trust much more than we have heretofore believed, +in the recuperative efforts of Nature?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIV" id="CHAPTER_LXXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>WHO HATH WOE? OR, THE SICK WIDOW.</h3> + + +<p>Early in the year 1852, I received a letter, of which the following, +with very slight needful alterations, is an extract. It was written from +the interior of Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>"About three months ago, I took a long journey by stage-coach, which +brought on, as I think, an internal inflammation. Since that time I have +taken very little medicine. Please tell me whether it is right for me to +bathe daily in, and drink freely of, cold water; and whether it is safe +to make cold applications to the parts affected.</p> + +<p>"I take as much exercise as I can without producing irritation. I do +not, by any means, indulge in the food which my appetite craves.</p> + +<p>"I am twenty-six years of age; was married and left a widow, while young +and very ignorant, under circumstances the most deeply painful. I have a +strong desire to get well if I can; though if I must give up the thought +I am willing to die.</p> + +<p>"I should be very glad to see you, if you will take the trouble to come +and see me. I should have made an effort to consult you, in person, +before now, if I could have safely taken the journey."</p> + +<p>At the time of receiving this letter I was travelling in a distant +State, and, as an immediate visit was wellnigh impracticable, I wrote +her, requesting such farther information as might enable me to give her +a few general directions, promising to see her on my return in the +spring. In reply to my inquiries, I received what follows:—</p> + +<p>"I have been, from childhood, afflicted with bunches in the throat. +There is no consumptive tendency on either my father's or my mother's +side; but I come, by the maternal side, from a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> king's evil<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a> family. I +am an ardent, impulsive creature, possessing a nervous, sanguine +temperament; naturally cheerful and agreeable, but rendered, by +sickness, irritable, capricious, and melancholic. I fear consumption so +much, that were I convinced it was fully fastened upon me, I might be +tempted, unless restrained by a strong moral influence, to commit a +crime which might not be forgiven.</p> + +<p>"I have great weakness in the throat, and soreness in the chest, with a +dull pain between the shoulders. My appetite is extraordinary;—I think +it has increased since I have dieted. My flesh is stationary. I gain a +few pounds, and then commit some wild freak and lose it. I am +unaccountable to myself. I think, sir, that my mental disturbances +impair my health.</p> + +<p>"I anticipate much pleasure from seeing you; for I see, by your letter, +you understand me. I have always been thought inexplicable. I feel a +universal languor. I am, at times, unconscious. I feel dead to all +things; there seems a loss of all vitality; and sometimes there is a +sense of suffocation. All these feelings are extreme, because I am, by +my nature, so sensitive. I met the other day with a slight from a +friend, a young lady, which caused grief so excessive that I have ever +since been suffering from influenza."</p> + +<p>These lengthy extracts may not be very interesting to the general +reader, except so far as they reveal to him some of the internal +cogitations of a soul borne down with a load of suffering, which almost +drove her to suicide. "Who hath woe,"—as Solomon says, with respect to +a very different description of human character,—if not this poor +widow?</p> + +<p>And yet it required a personal visit, and the conversation of a couple +of hours, to fathom the depths of her woe, to the utmost. For there are +secrets of the human heart, with which, of course, no stranger—not even +the family physician—should presume to intermeddle; though to these +depths, in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> case of the half-insane sufferer of whom I am speaking, +it was not necessary that I should go, in order to find out what I had +all along suspected. Disease had been communicated several years before, +of a kind which was much more communicable <i>then</i>, than it was +eradicable now.</p> + +<p>Whenever, by the laws of hereditary descent, in their application to +health and disease, our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren +suffer, we may recognize in it the hand of the great Creator; nor do we +doubt, often, the wisdom of such laws nor their ultimate tendency to +work out final good. But when we find a widow suffering many long years, +from a disease to which a husband's weakness and wickedness has +subjected her, what shall we say, especially when we have reason to fear +that the evils in question, some of them, at least, will be terminable +only, in their effects, with life itself?</p> + +<p>My patient is <i>patiently</i> wearing out her ills; and what she cannot wear +out, she is learning to endure. Her case cannot be reached with +medicine, at least with safety, and is only to be affected, so far as +affected at all, by yielding the most unflinching obedience to the laws +of God, physical and moral. She will not die of consumption; she will +live on; but how much progress she may be able to make towards the land +of life and health, is by no means certain. Her case is, at best, a +trying one, and must compel us, whenever we reflect on the subject, to +say, "Who hath woe, if not persons situated like this widow?"<a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> She was not aware that king's evil, or scrofula, is +oftentimes the parent of consumption.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a> Since this chapter was written, I have had the pleasure of +learning from a reliable source that the young woman above referred to +is now enjoying comparatively good health. She married a second time, a +year or two afterwards; and by following out the course prescribed, and +with the blessing of Heaven, she came at length to her present position +of usefulness and happiness.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXV" id="CHAPTER_LXXV"></a>CHAPTER LXXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE PENALTY OF SELF-INDULGENCE.</h3> + + +<p>The thought that a minister of the gospel can be gluttonous is so +painful that, after selecting as the caption to the present chapter, "A +gluttonous minister," I concluded to modify it. Perhaps, after all, it +might be as well in the end, to call things by their proper names. +However, we will proceed, as we have set out, for this once.</p> + +<p>A minister about forty years of age came to me one day, deeply involved +in all the midnight horrors of dyspepsia.</p> + +<p>On investigating his case, I found it one of the most trying I had ever +met with. It was not only trying in itself, in the particular form and +shape it assumed, but it had been rendered much more troublesome and +unmanageable by injudicious medical treatment.</p> + +<p>My course was a plain one, and I proceeded cautiously to prescribe for +him—not medicine, for in my judgment he needed none, but simply a +return to the physical laws he had so long and so palpably violated. +These laws I endeavored briefly to recall to his attention. As he was an +intelligent man, I dealt with him in the most plain and direct manner.</p> + +<p>Some two or three weeks afterward he called on me again, saying that he +was no better. I repeated my prescription, only more particularly. Still +I was not, as I now think, sufficiently particular and definite, for +want of time. Moreover, he still clung to the off-hand customs of +empiricism,—that of looking at the tongue, feeling the pulse, and +seeming "wondrous wise,"—and vainly hoped I would treat him in the same +direct way, instead of requiring what he regarded as a more circuitous +course.</p> + +<p>He called on me the third time. We had now ample<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> leisure and +opportunity for attempting to ferret out the causes which had operated +to bring him into his present condition, some of which, it appeared, had +been of long standing.</p> + +<p>I inquired, in the first place, concerning his exercise. This, he said, +was taken very irregularly, chiefly in walking abroad on business, +seldom or never in company. His mind, in all probability, was not +directed, to any considerable extent, from its accustomed mill-horse +track. His gait, too, when he walked, was staid and measured. It was +never buoyant, lively, or playful. And as for amusement, he had none at +all.</p> + +<p>His diet was still worse than his exercise. He had a large family, and +resided in the midst of a dense population; and was so situated as to +render his house, practically, a kind of ministerial thoroughfare. He +probably entertained, at his hospitable table, more ministers, literary +men, and students than any other three clergymen in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>"Now," said he to me, "we have a good deal of table preparation to make, +and Mrs. Y., who dearly loves to have things in pretty good order, sets +a full table, with, a large variety. Well, this food must be eaten. It +will never do for a minister who has a large family and lives on a +moderate salary, to <i>waste</i> any thing. And, besides, as I ought to tell +you, we sometimes, if not always, have a very considerable amount of +rich food on the table."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to intimate that the bountiful provision you make for +others renders it necessary for you to overeat? Or have your remarks a +reference to a supposed necessity of eating rich food?"</p> + +<p>"We are not, of course, absolutely compelled to <i>any</i> thing. My meaning +is this: In order to meet the wants of those who are liable to call on +us at almost any hour, <i>we prepare largely</i>. Then, to meet these varying +and often very fastidious tastes, we must have <i>a large variety</i> of +food, and it must be <i>highly seasoned</i>. And then, if it happens that our +company is not as large as is expected, we have an extra quantity +remaining, and I am tempted to aid in eating it up, the highly seasoned +food among the rest."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you think, do you, that this highly seasoned food is the cause of +your dyspepsia?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly it is."</p> + +<p>"And do you expect to be cured of a disease which is produced by certain +definable causes, like this, and yet be permitted to go on in the same +way you have long gone? Do you suppose I have any power to grant you an +immunity from the evil effects of high living while that high living is +persisted in? Can you get rid of an effect till you first remove the +cause?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no, sir, not exactly. Such an expectation would be very +unreasonable. But is there no medicine I can take that will <i>partially</i> +restore me? Perhaps, at my age, entire restoration from such a hydra +disease as dyspepsia is hardly to be expected; but can you not patch me +up in part?"</p> + +<p>"What! and suffer you to go on sinning?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, to some small extent. It is very hard, nay, it seems to me +almost impossible, to break away from the routine of my family, at least +as long as Mrs. Y. is fully determined to prepare for company according +to the prevailing customs. I could submit to a different arrangement if +she were ready for it."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could encourage you to pursue this compromising course of +conduct. But it is not so. You must change your habits entirely, or you +must continue to suffer. For if it were possible to patch you up, for a +short time, while your present habits are continued, it would not be as +well for you in the end: It would only add another head and horn, +perhaps several others, to the monster that annoys you. No, sir; you +must change your habits or give up the contest. There is no use in +attempting to do any thing, in such a case as yours, with medicine."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if it must be so, it must. I will try once more, and see +what I can do."</p> + +<p>He left me with a downcast look, and, I suspected, with a heavy heart. +At all events, my own heart was heavy, and seemed almost ready to bleed. +Here was a father in our ministerial<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> Israel,—one to whom multitudes +looked up for the bread of spiritual life,—who was a perfect slave to +his appetites; or, at least, to the conventionalisms of modern +house-keeping. He groaned daily and hourly under bodily disease the most +aggravated and severe. His eyes were red and swelled; the sides of his +nose enlarged and inflamed, till he had the appearance of being about +half a sot. He knew all about it, and yet refused to take the first step +in the way of reformation.</p> + +<p>I saw him, by accident, once more, and would have spoken with him +freely; but he seemed to shun every thing beyond a merely passing +compliment. I saw how it was with him; and the reflections which arose +in my mind gave me the most intense pain.</p> + +<p>Two or three weeks afterward, while in an intimate and confidential +conversation with two of his very familiar friends, I ventured to +predict his fall, with nearly as much particularity as if the events +which were predicted had already taken place. I was asked how I dared to +say such things, even in secret, of so good a man and such a father in +the American Church. So I gave them, by way of reply, the principal +facts in the case, as detailed above.</p> + +<p>Not many years passed ere this very minister was tried for a crime much +more high-handed than gluttony, though sometimes the sequel to it; and +not only tried, but silenced. The results of the trial were as shocking +to most people as they were unexpected. Every one said: "How can it be?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Y. became a farmer, and is still so. But he is cured of his +dyspepsia. Compelled, as I have reason to believe he is, to practise the +most rigid economy, having very little temptation to unlawful +indulgence, and having an abundance of healthful exercise in the open +air, he has every appearance, externally, of a reformed man. His old +friends would, I think, hardly know him. His skin is as clear, and his +eyes and nose as physiologically correct in their appearance, as yours +or mine. True, he is an old man, but he is not a gluttonous old man. He +is a fallen man, but a healthy, and, I hope, a penitent one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> He has +experienced a species of first resurrection, and has, I trust, the hope +of a better one still.</p> + +<p>Now, had this man believed, in the first place, that the fault of his +dyspepsia was not wholly chargeable on Mrs. Y., but also on +himself,—had he clearly seen that he loved high living, and would not +relinquish it,—he might have been reformed without a dreadful and +scathing ordeal, and without disgracing the cause of his Divine Master, +But alas! "the woman that thou gavest to be with me," as he said, was in +fault; and so he did not reform himself.</p> + +<p>That his wife was in fault, most deeply, I do not deny. She knew her +husband's weakness, and yet continued to place before him those +temptations which she well knew were too strong for him. How she could +do this, and persist in doing it, is, to me, a mystery. But she had her +reward; at least, in part. For in the fall and retirement of her husband +from public life, and in the consciousness—which was the most terrible +of all—of his guilt, must not her sufferings have been terrible?</p> + +<p>It is indeed true that she may not have been wise enough—for this +wisdom has not yet been made public property, in the fullest sense—to +look at the subject in one point of view, which would be calculated to +add to the poignancy of her anguish. So that we may be almost ready to +say, in her case, "Ignorance is bliss." I refer, here, to the infliction +of scrofula and nervousness, by high living, on the next generation.</p> + +<p>For while Mrs. Y. was bowing down to public opinion, and preparing rich +viands for her guests, and practically compelling her husband and +children to eat up what they had nibbled at and left, she was not only +fastening dyspepsia upon the former and nervousness upon herself, but +imparting more or less of a tendency to nervousness and scrofula upon +the rest of her family. Of the two thousand children born in a day, in +the United States, from two hundred to three hundred—perhaps nearer +four hundred—come into the world with a scrofulous tendency; and of +these, it is highly probable, that at least one hundred per day are +manufactured at just such tables<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> as those which were set by Mrs. Y. for +the teachers of the religion of Jesus Christ.</p> + +<p>I have quoted the old adage, that "Ignorance is bliss;" but alas! is it +not to trifle with the most solemn considerations? Can that be regarded +as blissful which leaves a mother, who, in general, means to love and +honor the Saviour, to destroy her husband and one or two of his +children? There is little doubt that, besides shutting her husband out +of the sacred enclosure, after she had destroyed his health, Mrs. Y. was +the means of destroying at least one or two of her children. One of +them, who was scrofulous, ran at last—a very common occurrence—into +consumption, and perished early, in the beginning of active usefulness.</p> + +<p>I may be suspected of exaggeration, by some of my readers. Would to God, +for humanity's sake and for Christ's sake, it were so! For though I +cannot subscribe to the creed of those who profess to be willing to come +into everlasting condemnation for the glory of God, yet, so long as +opportunity for repentance shall last, I would willingly be convicted of +untruth, if so that the falsehood might be made palpable to my mind, +rather than believe what I am compelled to believe with regard to the +murderous tendency on soul and body of our murderous modern cookery. Is +it not true—the old adage, that while "God," in his mercy, "sends us +meats, the Devil," in his malignity, "sends us cooks?"</p> + +<p>This unnatural cookery,—this mingling medicine with viands naturally +healthful, and torturing the compounds thus formed into sources of +irritation, has more to do with that sensuality which has come upon us +like a flood,—much of it in new forms,—than many are aware. And I am +much mistaken if modern societies for moral reform, popularly so called, +might not thank the over-refined cookery of a gross and highly +stimulating diet, for that necessity which impels to their own field of +labor.</p> + +<p>One thing more might have been mentioned in its proper place—the +tendency of high living to eruptions on the skin. These, in their +various forms of pimple, carbuncle, boil, etc., are becoming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> quite the +order of the day. Mr. Y.'s family had a full share of them, especially +those of them who were scrofulous. I have already mentioned the +appearance of Mr. Y.'s face, and have alluded to the change which took +place after his fall. But I should have spoken of the eruptions on his +face, which, at times, were such as almost made him ashamed to enter the +pulpit.</p> + +<p>You will see, from the tenor of these remarks, that I have laid the +guilt, in this sad affair, just where I believe it ought to rest. I have +not sought to exculpate one individual or party, at the expense of +another equally guilty, but rather to do justice to all.</p> + +<p>Only one thing remains, which is to confess my <i>own</i> guilt. Have I not +great reason to fear that my advice was not sufficiently pointed and +thorough? I might have gone to Mr. Y. and told him the truth, the whole +truth. What if it had given offence? Would not the prospect of doing +good, rather than of giving offence, have been worth something? In any +event, I do regret most deeply my unfaithfulness, even though it arose +from delicacy and diffidence, for that very delicacy and diffidence were +far enough from being grounded on the love of God. They were grounded +much more on the love of human approbation. No man was ever more free +from it than our Saviour. Ought I not to have used the same plainness +that he would have used? Had I rebuked Mrs. Y. as kindly and as +faithfully as he rebuked Martha at Bethany, how much, for ought I can +ever know, might have been saved, not only to the cause of health and +conjugal happiness, but also to that of piety.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVI" id="CHAPTER_LXXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>DR. BOLUS AND MORPHINE.</h3> + + +<p>A telegraphic communication was made to me one day, nearly as follows: +"B. J. W. is very sick, and is not expected to live through the day. +Please come on immediately."</p> + +<p>The distance was about one hundred and fifty miles, and the mode and +means of conveyance neither very direct nor rapid for these latter +times. It was more than probable that Mr. B. J. W. would be dead before +I could reach the place. However, as he was a particular friend, and as +there was some hope, I concluded to set out.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening,—or rather, in the night,—I arrived at the place, +and found the young man still alive. He was, however, as it was easy to +perceive, in a very critical condition. Glad to find him alive, but +inclined to fall in with the general opinion that his case was a +hopeless one, and withal greatly fatigued, I yielded to the demands of +exhausted Nature, and slept a short time, when his physician arrived.</p> + +<p>Now I had been sent for, in part, as a special friend, and in part, as a +medical counsellor. And yet there were difficulties. Dr. Bolus, the +family physician, was just such a man—for reasons that might be +given—as I dreaded to advise with, should my advice be needed. He was +one who would be likely to think any important suggestion an impeachment +of his own superior wisdom. Science, true science, is always modest, and +does not fear any thing; because she loves, most of all things, <i>to be +right</i>. But Dr. Bolus had not, as I think, enough of true science to +make him feel or perceive the want of it. The ignorant are always +self-confident in proportion to their ignorance.</p> + +<p>We examined the patient, as soon as possible, and retired for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +consultation. Dr. Bolus gave a full history of the progress of the case, +with a particular account of the treatment. I saw at once, both from the +existing symptoms and Dr. Bolus's statement, that the tendency to the +brain—so great as to keep up an almost constant delirium—was quite as +likely to be caused by the enormous quantities of morphine and quinine, +and other active medicines which had been administered, as to belong +properly to the disease. I therefore advised a gradual reduction and +ultimate discontinuance of the extra stimulants.</p> + +<p>Dr. Bolus was opposed to the reduction I proposed, but finally consented +to it, at least in part, and the patient evidently derived almost +immediate benefit from it. When I had pushed my views with regard to the +stimuli as far as I could, we separated, and as the distance at which +the doctor resided was considerable, and as I was on the spot to watch +the patient, he proposed not to call again till early in the morning of +the following day.</p> + +<p>I was by no means satisfied with the compromise we had made. It had not +accomplished its intended object. Dr. Bolus had, indeed, yielded a +little, but not enough to satisfy me. I believed the amount of stimulus +still given vastly too great, and was unwilling to continue it. In +truth, I persuaded one of the attendants to omit the principal articles, +whenever the hour came for administering them, assuring him that I would +take all the responsibility.</p> + +<p>Of the other attendant I would have made the same requisition, but he +being exceedingly attached to Dr. Bolus, would never have tolerated the +slightest concealment, or departure from the strictest letter of the +law.</p> + +<p>It was easy to see that the less stimulating treatment of each alternate +two hours, during which it was entirely omitted, left behind it, on the +patient's frame, a better influence than the more active treatment of +the other two. And when the next medical consultation came, I pleaded +for a still greater diminution of the stimulus. But, as I had +unwillingly used a little duplicity,—a thing I now deeply regret,—in +order to come at my conclusions against the stimulants, I was not +willing to state, in full, the grounds of my opinion, and therefore +could not prevail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> with Dr. Bolus to consent to any farther advances in +the unstimulating plan.</p> + +<p>I was now, at length, compelled to leave for home; and the results, for +the rest of the time, were reported to me through the kindness of the +young man's friends. It is sufficient, perhaps, to say that he finally +recovered; but it was not till the lapse of several months. In the mean +time, a severe ulcer broke out on the lower part of his back, which +caused much suffering, and appeared to retard very greatly the progress +of his recovery.</p> + +<p>My errors in this case were numerous and great. Believing, as I did, in +the outset, that Dr. Bolus and myself could never agree, I did wrong in +consenting to a consultation with him. I ought to have been nothing but +a visitor, or else to have entered fully into the spirit and duty of a +counsellor. In the former case I might, indeed, have outraged every +feeling of benevolence; in the latter I ought to have proposed my +objections in full, and not to have compromised so as to submit to what +I really believed to be radically and essentially wrong.</p> + +<p>For I did most fully believe all this; and in spite of every effort at +concealment, my scepticism finally came out, and I was weak enough to +speak of it, and openly to find fault with Dr. Bolus. A practical +quarrel followed between Dr. Bolus and myself, in which the friends +joined, or, at least, strongly sympathized.</p> + +<p>My own belief, then, was, and it still remains the same, that the +violence of the young man's disease, especially the tendency to the +brain, was chiefly, if not wholly, owing to the medicine administered; +and that, from the very first, no active medicine—nothing but an +exceedingly mild and cooling treatment—was required. It was even my +belief that the ulcer was caused by the medicine.</p> + +<p>But, while I lost confidence in human nature, and especially in the +human nature of some of my brethren of the medical profession, by this +experiment, I became more thoroughly convinced than ever before of the +great need of honest and benevolent as well as scientific men in this +department, and of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> general impotency and worse than impotency of +much that is dignified with the name of medical treatment. I became most +fully convinced, that in acute diseases as well as chronic, Nature, +unembarrassed, will generally accomplish her own work, when left to +herself and to good and careful nursing and attendance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVII" id="CHAPTER_LXXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>BLEEDING AND BLISTERING OMITTED.</h3> + + +<p>One of my neighbors had fallen down-stairs, and injured himself +internally, in the right side of the chest; and a degree, greater or +less, of inflammation had followed. The pain was constant, though not +severe; but the soreness was considerable, and did not give promise of +speedy amendment.</p> + +<p>My advice was to keep quiet, both in body and mind, and to avoid all +kinds of exertion that could possibly affect the chest. I also advised +the use of water, not only for drink, in small draughts, but, if the +pain and soreness should be troublesome, as an external application to +the part affected. The food was to be mild and unstimulating. A tendency +to crowd around the fire was to be guarded against and prevented, by +putting on, if necessary, an increased amount of clothing.</p> + +<p>Two days passed away with no great variation of the symptoms, either for +better or worse. I was now fully convinced that I had taken the true +course, because, otherwise, my patient must, by this time, have become +worse. Accordingly, I persevered in my general let-alone plan for about +two weeks, when the patient fully recovered.</p> + +<p>He was a slender boy, in the fifteenth year of his age, strongly +inclined, by inheritance, to disease of the chest and brain; and this +consideration, among others, led me to be extremely cautious about his +treatment. The greater the danger the greater the necessity that what is +done should be done right, or we shall defeat our own purposes.</p> + +<p>But the most remarkable fact in relation to this very interesting case +is,—and it is chiefly for the sake of this fact that I have related the +story,—that more than forty-eight hours had passed, after the +occurrence of the accident, before it came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> into my mind that any thing +could, by possibility, be done for the chest, in the way of bleeding, +blistering, etc.,—so utterly irrational had this treatment, once so +fashionable, come to be regarded, both by myself and a few others. How +strange that I should not think of it in two whole days! Twenty years +before, I should not have dared to pass through the first twenty-four +hours, in such a case, without <i>thinking</i>, at least, of balsams and +mustard poultices and the whole paraphernalia of external treatment, to +say nothing of bleeding and blistering.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_LXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>MEDICAL VIRTUES OF SLEEP.</h3> + + +<p>My own child, a boy nine or ten years of age, and somewhat inclined to +croup, was one evening wheezing considerably, and, as his mother +thought, was threatened with an immediate attack, either from this or +some other disease. Of course, there was not a little anxiety manifested +in the family on his account, and we were deliberating what to do with +him, when the late Dr. Shew, the hydropathist, chanced to come in.</p> + +<p>After a little general conversation, we turned our thoughts again to our +little patient, and asked Dr. Shew what he would do with him if he were +his patient. "If it were my case," said he, "I would give him a tepid +bath—say at about the temperature of 80° or 85°." "Would you do nothing +more?" "Nothing at all, except to put him early to bed."</p> + +<p>I was not committed to hydropathy, as I have before told you. I never +have been, though I had a sort of general respect for Dr. Shew; and +hence it was that, incidentally, I asked him the question which I did; +and I was pleased with his reply. There was nothing suggested which was +at all akin to violence. He did not propose a shower bath of any kind. +He did not speak of hot bathing, which for that hour of the day might +have induced too violent a perspiration. He did not propose vapor +bathing or steaming. A tepid bath could, abstractly considered, do no +harm. It would, at least, while away the time till nature could have +opportunity to rally. And then, if the return to health should be +attributed to the application of the tepid water, we had no special +objection to it. We had no medical pride—most certainly I had +none—that would lead me to fear lest I should add to the popularity of +the cold-water system.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<p>But it was rather late in the evening,—between seven and eight +o'clock,—almost time for such a child to be in bed. In order to get up +a tepid bath and make the application, so much time would be required +that it would keep him from sleep till nine o'clock, and perhaps later; +whereas, I had a very high opinion of the healing and renovating power +of natural and healthy sleep. It struck me that to put the child to bed +immediately, and let him have a good night's rest, would be a much wiser +measure than to bathe him even in <i>tepid</i> water. So, after thanking Dr. +Shew for his advice, I told him that, for the reasons above stated, we +had concluded to omit the bath and put the child immediately to bed.</p> + +<p>On being put in bed and suitably covered, he went to sleep immediately, +and fell into a gentle perspiration, and in about two hours his +breathing was much better. It continued to improve till the next +morning, when he arose, at the usual time, and was nearly well. Dr. Shew +himself jocosely observed that the <i>sleep</i> cure had proved quite as +successful as the <i>water</i> cure.</p> + +<p>Much, therefore, as I prize bathing of all sorts, in its proper place, +it must never take the place of other and more important influences, +whenever these influences can be brought to bear on the case. Indeed, no +bathing of any kind can be desirable, any farther than as it serves to +aid these natural processes. It has no magic or miraculous power. If we +do not eat, drink, sleep, and wake, all the better for it; if the +various offices of digestion, respiration, circulation, perspiration, +and cerebral action are not thereby, as a whole thing, better performed, +it might as well—nay, better—be omitted. Otherwise we waste time and +trifle away vital energy.</p> + +<p>If all the functions of the body and all the faculties of the mind could +be kept steadily employed, and in healthful proportion, it is obvious +that a person could not be sick. Or, if one of these only should be +deranged, and we should fall sick, as the consequence, what else, pray +tell me, is needed, but to effect a speedy return of the faltering +function or part to its proper post and duty?</p> + +<p>But sleep, more than all things else, whenever the usual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> hour has +actually arrived, has the effect to facilitate a cure. We all know how +wakeful some maniacs are, and how hurried and deranged all the movements +of the muscular and nervous systems are apt to become, no less than +those of the brain itself. And we all know, too, how much good it does +such persons to be able to obtain good, sound, substantial, quiet sleep. +It acts like a charm, and does more than charms can do, or mere +medicine.</p> + +<p>Half the formality of having watchers by night in the sick room, does +more harm than good. It were better, in many instances, to extinguish +all the lights, except at certain set times and on particular occasions, +and let the patient sleep. And yet I have as exalted an estimate of the +importance of careful nursing as any other individual.</p> + +<p>For example of my meaning, in a case of seeming contradiction, I may say +that I have taken all the needful care of a young man who was very sick, +for more than thirty successive nights with the exception of two, and +yet maintained my health, which, as you already know, was never very +firm. And I have known those who could do this for three months. But +they extinguish or hide their light, and acquire a habit of waking at +certain times, so as never to neglect the wants of the patient.</p> + +<p>So true is it that sleep is the grand restorer as well as the great +curer of disease, that its salutary influence in the case of various +infantile complaints, has long been known and regarded. And one reason +why infants should neither be nursed nor fed in the night, as many +physiologists maintain, is, that it breaks in upon the soundness of the +sleep, as experience has most abundantly proved. Sleep, in short, if not +a "matchless" sanative, is at least a universal one.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXIX" id="CHAPTER_LXXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>CURE BY DEEP BREATHING.</h3> + + +<p>A young man, fifteen or sixteen years of age, who was in the habit of +suffering from protracted colds, nearly the whole winter, till they +seemed to terminate almost in consumption in the spring, came under my +care about March 1st, 1854, and was treated as the nature of his case +seemed to require, though with a few of what may be, by some, regarded +as peculiarities.</p> + +<p>He was directed to rise in the morning at about six o'clock, which at +that season of the year is about as early as any one can see well +without lamp-light. At the moment of leaving his bed, he was required to +wet his body all over, as quickly as possible, either with the hand or a +sponge, or if preferred, with a coarse towel, and then wipe himself +hastily and partially, so as to leave on the surface a little moisture, +and yet not enough to cause, by evaporation, any sensations of +chilliness. The water to be used was to be cold, or at such temperature +as is usual at that season, when standing all night in a room without +fire. This was to be followed by a rapid rubbing with <i>crash mittens</i>, a +coarse towel, or the hand, as long as he could keep up a good reaction +and a proper degree of vital warmth.</p> + +<p>Or, if rubbing the body increased the cough, and an assistant was +required, in this case, a healthy man well charged, so to speak, with +electricity, was always to be deemed preferable. In general, however, +the young man found no difficulty in keeping himself warm, in this +exercise, about half an hour.</p> + +<p>Whenever his strength began to flag, or a little before,—for I did not +think it desirable to go farther than the mere borders of fatigue,—he +was placed in bed and well covered, so as to be immediately warm. The +room itself was kept as cool as possible,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> even in the coldest weather, +the fire having been entirely removed at bedtime the night before, and +the room well aired and ventilated.</p> + +<p>This method of placing him in a warm bed was called dry packing. In this +dry pack he usually remained from half an hour to an hour. At the end of +this period, he was required to get out of bed, and repeat the former +course of rubbing the naked surface of the body a long time, in the cold +air, though, in this case, without repeating the application of the cold +water.</p> + +<p>Thus the forenoon passed away, with a few slight but unimportant +variations. At twelve o'clock, this alternation of air-bathing with +friction and dry-packing, ceased, and the patient was expected to put on +his clothes and come to dinner. You will, perhaps, ask when and where he +had his breakfast. No breakfast was allowed him. Nothing was to be +taken, except small draughts of water, till twelve o'clock.</p> + +<p>Another operation, which had much more the appearance of peculiarity +than any other part of the treatment, but which was deemed, more than +all else, indispensable to his recovery, consisted in a series of deep +inspirations or breathings. It may be described thus: The patient was +required to draw as much air into his lungs as possible, and then +immediately expel as much of it as possible. This was to be repeated and +continued till a suitable degree of fatigue was induced. At first, it +was only required as a species of amusement while in the dry pack; but +subsequently it was demanded in other circumstances.</p> + +<p>I have usually required a person to begin the process by ten, twenty, or +thirty deep inspirations, according to his strength of lungs and their +irritability; for, at first, it often makes him cough. In the present +case, I began with fifty, and gradually increased the number to one +hundred. Sometimes, by way of experiment, and to pass away the time +while in the dry pack, he went much farther; once to six hundred. In +this case, however, the face became slightly flushed, the eyes reddened, +and the whole arterial action became hastened. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> was evidently like +"too much of a good thing," and was never repeated.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was spent in physical exercise, active amusement, reading, +conversation, etc. The first consisted chiefly in sawing and splitting +wood, and in walking abroad. The amusements were of various kinds. The +reading was chiefly of the lighter sort, such as newspapers and +magazines. The conversation—not always controllable—was the best we +could furnish him. Some of the walks were long, extending to five or six +miles.</p> + +<p>Music, both vocal and instrumental, was regarded as a most valuable +amusement, and was not wholly overlooked. It had its difficulties, but +most of them could be surmounted. As a devotional exercise, its soothing +influence was almost always evoked.</p> + +<p>I have said that no breakfast was taken by this young man, and no drink +used but cold water. The dinner was also without drink, and so was the +supper. The first consisted of a very few kinds of coarse +food,—generally not more than two or three at once,—such as coarse +whole-meal bread, rice, potatoes, apples, etc., and was the principal +meal. The supper was a lighter meal, both as respected quantity and +quality, and was taken at about six o'clock. No condiments were allowed +except salt, and very little of this; and no animal food, or the +products of animals, except, occasionally, a little milk. Fruits, either +raw or cooked, were frequently among the staples at dinner, but never at +supper.</p> + +<p>This treatment, with slight variations, would be applicable to most +persons suffering with lingering complaints, and to persons in health, +as a means of invigorating their systems; but my present purpose is, +chiefly, to speak of it as a remedial agency in the particular case of +this young man.</p> + +<p>I had hoped to be able to effect a cure on him in about a month. But I +was happily disappointed in finding him recover so fast that he was +dismissed and sent home on the twenty-fifth day. Nor has his consumptive +tendency ever again appeared with much severity. Since the spring of +1856—now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> between two and three years—it has not appeared at all.</p> + +<p>This method of cure, by deep breathing, consists simply in using the +lungs freely, without overworking them. They may be overworked as well +as used too little; though the danger is generally in the latter +direction. They are made, most undoubtedly, for a great amount of +action, in breathing, conversation, singing, reading, etc.; and yet, in +all these respects, they are sadly neglected.</p> + +<p>Our ordinary conversation is such as hardly to exercise the lungs at +all. We talk with the mouth and throat rather than the lungs. So is it, +for the most part, with our singing. And, as for breathing, we only +breathe a little way down, even when our dress is such as to form no +impediment. Full breathing, except in making violent efforts, is hardly +known.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXX" id="CHAPTER_LXXX"></a>CHAPTER LXXX.</h2> + +<h3>SPIRIT-DOCTORING.</h3> + + +<p>One of the most amusing incidents of my "Forty Years among Pills and +Powders," is found at full length of detail in the following chapter. +The amusement it affords has, however, a tinge of sadness.</p> + +<p>A young man came under my care in the early part of the year 1854, who, +for the sake of convenience, I will call Thomas. He was about eighteen +years of age, but as delicate, sensitive, and effeminate as a female +directly from Broadway would have been, or as a plant reared in a +hothouse. In truth, he had been reared very much like many females of +the present day, in a manner entirely sedentary—the creature of +over-tenderness and over-kindness.</p> + +<p>His disease was scrofula; but, with his scrofulous tendencies were +conjoined some other difficulties, more obscure and still more +unmanageable. His joints were enlarged; and in particular portions of +his body were various watery swellings or sacs.</p> + +<p>As it was a scrofulous tendency that lay at the bottom or basis of his +complaints, I proceeded to treat him accordingly. I was to have him +under my care three months, during which time, it was believed, +something might be done, if ever. At least, it was believed that a +beginning might be made, if indeed the disease should prove to be at all +curable.</p> + +<p>He was subjected to the treatment, with few variations, which is +mentioned in the preceding chapter. He was not permitted, however, to do +much in the way of deep breathing till his general health and strength +could be improved by other measures. Warm water, in his case, was +preferred, also, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> cold, and was used in the form of a tub-bath, at +five o'clock in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>Thomas had been with me about three weeks, without much variation of +condition or prospects, when I received a long letter from his friends, +the purport of which was that they had been favored with a communication +from the "spirit world," which was attended with the appearance of so +much truth and reality, that they were not at liberty wholly to +disregard it. The communication purported to be made by the late Dr. +Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>As these friends of Thomas well knew I was not a believer in this +new-fangled spiritualism, they had taken much pains to satisfy me that I +was to have for my venerable counsellor not a mere pretender, but the +veritable Dr. Rush himself. As one evidence in the case, they had +inquired through the "medium," who were the present associates of the +good doctor in his new abode; who, nothing loath, had deigned to gratify +their supposed curiosity, by giving them the names of five distinguished +physicians, among whom were the elder and younger Dr. Ingalls, of +Massachusetts, and Dr. Sanborn, of New Hampshire.</p> + +<p>And then, with regard to Thomas, he only said, at first, that he was +very much interested in him, and that he would examine him and report. +Soon after this, at another communication, he said his case was a +difficult one, but he thought not incurable. He added, that he was +already in very good hands, the best, perhaps, that could be found in +this mundane sphere, but rather cautiously insinuated that there were +symptoms in the case which I had not yet got hold of, but which would, +if rightly apprehended, modify, in some of its particulars, my +treatment. What it was in the case which I had not discovered, he did +not say directly, but subsequently intimated that the young man's +disease was not scrofula, as I had pronounced it, but dropsy of the +joints.</p> + +<p>It was not long afterward that the mother paid us a visit, and brought, +well written out, the substance, as she said it was, of quite a number +of communications from Dr. Rush. Much was said in them about the +necessity of exercise and a plain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> diet. And, in general, so far as the +mere treatment was concerned, the statements of the spiritual doctor +accorded so well with those of the earthly one, that had I been a +believer in these modern mysteries, I should have been highly gratified, +not only on Thomas's account, but my own.</p> + +<p>But the spirit doctor urged a few variations in the treatment of the +young man. Beside pressing a little harder than myself the use of green +vegetables, and particularly of vegetable juices, he requested, with +great apparent earnestness, that he might be permitted to occupy a room +heated by a wood fire, rather than by coal. He also made a few other +suggestions of less importance.</p> + +<p>His mother was a very good woman, save her great credulity. And even +here, perhaps, I do her injustice, for there were some curious facts and +coincidences. The venerable spirit doctor appeared to have possessed +himself of certain secrets which it was extremely puzzling to conjecture +how an impostor could have obtained.</p> + +<p>After spending a day or two with me, and giving me "much exhortation," +the mother returned to her friends. Of her safe arrival, as well as of +certain changes that had been resolved on, the husband informed me, by a +letter, which, so far as the case of Thomas is concerned, I copy entire.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Sir:—By Mrs. P., in her recent visit to your place, +you have been made acquainted with some of the +manifestations of spirits, made to us through a young lady, +a medium of our acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"The communications purporting to come from Dr. Rush (as he +says in his last communication, tell Dr. —— that it is the +veritable old Dr. Rush, the signer of the Declaration of +Independence), and with such apparent earnestness and +reality, we feel that, to us, they are something more than +human or earthly, and of momentous account in this case of +Thomas, and that we are not at liberty longer to disregard +them. And though we have great confidence in yourself and +your practice, we hope you will not think we are losing +either when I say that we have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> decided to have Thomas +return to ——, and commence following the prescriptions of +this invisible personage. They appear to be harmless, and +may be of great virtue; and much which pertains to them +appears to be in harmony with your practice.</p> + +<p>"Again, in closing, I must say that these communications +come to us with such force and apparent reality and truth, +that I think it would not be doing justly, either to Thomas +or our Creator, longer to disregard them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With much esteem, yours, etc., —— ——."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</div> + +<p>In a somewhat extended postscript it was added: "We have witnessed other +manifestations, of several of which we had ample proof of their +correctness."</p> + +<p>On another small portion of a sheet which was appended to the former, I +found, in pencil, the following:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"We have, this evening, had another conversation with Dr. +Rush. His medium was in —— to-day, and was brought to us +in order that she might speak to us (Mrs. P. and myself). We +are directed to tell you this: that he wants Thomas to be +under her (Mrs. P.) care; that there are no earthly +physicians that can cure him; that we could not have placed +him in better hands than with you. He (Dr. Rush) says he can +and <i>will cure him</i>. He says he could cure him without our +help, if he could impress him, but in that he has not yet +succeeded. He says he has seen Thomas with rubbers on, and +that he would have taken them off if he could. Says +positively, he must not wear them. Be good enough, dear sir, +to see that he does not wear them in coming home." He adds, +in conclusion, "Tell Dr. —— to remove him from the room he +now occupies, and place him in one with a wood fire, and +where he will have no bed-fellow."</p></div> + +<p>Thus ended the communication. Thomas went home, according to request, +and was, forthwith, put under the treatment of the spiritual doctor. All +appeared to be going on very well for a short time; but after the lapse +of about three weeks, I heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> of his death. No particulars were added, +in the papers, but I afterwards learned that his death was rather +sudden.</p> + +<p>I did not chance to fall in with Mr. P. for several months, and out of +respect to his feelings and those of Mrs. P., I did not depart from my +usual track to call on them or even write. At the end of the year, +however, I visited them, and after the usual passing remarks, the +following conversation took place.</p> + +<p>"It seems, then, that Dr. Rush with all his wisdom and skill could not +save Thomas."</p> + +<p>"No; he said it was too late for any power of earth or heaven to cure +him."</p> + +<p>"But he was very confident he could cure him?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he spoke with more confidence than he really felt, in order to +encourage us and lead us to exert ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Do I understand you? Do you mean to say that perhaps the spirit +doctors, like the fleshly ones, in order to encourage the friends of the +sick, will depart a little from the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that. Rather this: we do not consider it a departure from +the truth."</p> + +<p>"I am of a different opinion. In earth, or elsewhere, I call such a +course as you intimate a species of white lying—quite common on earth, +but which, till now, I did not suppose had found its way to the confines +of the world spiritual."</p> + +<p>The conversation ended here, and was not afterward resumed. I have, +indeed, witnessed a good deal of spiritual doctoring since that time, +but it was of a somewhat different character from the foregoing.</p> + +<p>For example: I saw a family in the interior of Massachusetts, whose +faith in spiritualism and spirit doctrine was perfect. The mistress of +the house was the patient. The physician a young man who had been a +mechanic, but who had very recently become convinced that it was his +duty to attend the sick,—not to do anything for them, on his own +responsibility, but only to suffer an old Indian physician to operate +through him as a medium.</p> + +<p>The chief thing which Dr. H. did, so far as I observed, was to lay his +hands on her, and sit for some time in that position.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> I am not sure +that he did not prescribe a few very simple things, from time to time, +such as a little weak tea, or the infusion of some domestic herb, from +the garden. He was counted, everywhere (for his circuit was a large +one), very successful; for his patients generally recovered. Their +recovery, it is true, was often very slow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXI" id="CHAPTER_LXXXI"></a>CHAPTER LXXXI.</h2> + +<h3>REMARKABLE CURE OF EPILEPSY.</h3> + + +<p>When I was a lad, a man was employed by my father on his farm, who used +occasionally to fall down in convulsions, lie for some time, not +entirely still, but foaming at the mouth and agitated or rocked to and +fro, as if in great distress; and yet, as I afterward learned, +senseless. These attacks, they told me, were <i>falling sickness</i> fits. +The man was weak in mind, and not vigorous in body, though, by diligence +and perseverence, he could accomplish something in the progress of a +whole day. He died but little beyond middle age.</p> + +<p>Since that time I have been intimately acquainted with several +individuals who were subject to these attacks of epilepsy, some of whom +were affected in one way, some in another. The cause, too, was as +various as the manner of attack, and in a few instances was peculiar and +remarkable. In general, their memory and intellectual faculties, as well +as their bodily strength, became, ultimately, a good deal impaired. In +my practice as a physician, I had very few of these cases, and none in +which I could afford relief at first. The patients were, however, for +the most part, of middle age, or at least beyond thirty years. Several +had taken nitrate of silver or other minerals, till their skins were of +a blue-black color.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of the year 1854, a young man about seventeen years of +age, of scrofulous and nervous temperament and of great delicacy, came +under my care, to be treated for this disease, whose history, from +beginning to end, was remarkable. I will call him Samuel.</p> + +<p>When about twelve years of age he had difficulty with another boy,—an +Irish or Scotch lad,—which ended in a personal affray, in which Samuel +was worsted, and his head<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> severely injured. It was thought by some that +a portion of the skull, which, by the violence of the blow it had +received, had been forced in, ought to have been elevated by the +trephine; but I believe no surgeon of reputation ever saw him. Being +young, the depressed portion of skull gradually resumed its place, so +that the depression could scarcely be seen.</p> + +<p>All, however, was not right within, for he was soon afterward attacked +by epilepsy. Whether, at first, any connection between the disease and +the bruised skull was suspected by the friends, I was not able to learn; +but probably not. The attacks having been once commenced, were frequent +and severe, and every year became more so. They were particularly +frequent and severe during the winter and spring.</p> + +<p>The medical art was invoked in his behalf, especially in the region +round about New Haven, Conn. He was not only treated by the regular +physicians, of different kinds and schools, but by not a few empirics or +quacks. By some of them he was evidently injured, and by none was he +benefited. The tendency still continued to be downward, on the whole, +and his friends were, at length, almost discouraged.</p> + +<p>All this while his diet appears to have been the usual diet of that part +of New England in which he resided—-too stimulating, and too much +refined by cookery. In general, too, his active and perverted appetite +led him to excess in quantity; but, as his friends never thought of its +being a morbid or diseased appetite, no strong efforts were made to +control it. In truth, as he was feeble and growing, it was thought +necessary that he should eat stimulating and highly seasoned food, and +in large quantity. He was also accustomed to tea and coffee. All his +appetites, as it afterwards appeared, were, to say the least, very +active, though the gratification of <i>the third appetite</i> was wholly +confined to solitude.</p> + +<p>No restriction, nor indeed any direction, so far as I could learn, had +been made at this period, with regard to his mental food. Whatever he +chose to read, he was indulged in, both as regards quantity and quality. +And as usually happens, in the case of epileptic, and scrofulous people, +he was quite too much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> inclined to works of imagination, with which the +age and country abound. It appears, also, that being regarded as quite +unequal to the task of laboring in field or garden, he was thus, in +large measure, deprived of two essentials of health and happiness, +especially to epileptics; viz., air and exercise.</p> + +<p>In August, 1853, he went to an institution that had once been a +water-cure establishment, but which had undergone many modifications, +till it better deserved the name of College of Hygiene, than water cure. +Here he remained several months.</p> + +<p>The peculiar treatment he received at this institution consisted, first, +in a plain and unstimulating diet. Water was his only drink, and bread +and fruits, with a few well-cooked vegetables, his only food. But, in +the second place, he was subjected to a course of treatment not unlike +that described in Chapter LXXIX, with the exception of the deep +breathing and cold-bathing. The last, however, was, I believe, used +occasionally.</p> + +<p>There was, indeed, one important addition made to the treatment above +alluded to. This consisted in an exercise designed to expand and +strengthen the lungs, by what was called <i>shaking down the air</i>. This +exercise was practised very frequently, and was curious. I will describe +it as well as I can.</p> + +<p>He was first required to inflate his chest as much as possible, and +then, while retaining the air with all his might, rise on his toes, and +suddenly drop on his heels, with a sort of jerk, several times in +succession, till he could hold his breath and retain the air no longer, +which was now suffered gradually to escape. A new recruit was then drawn +in, and treated in the same manner. The exercise, as a whole, seemed to +consist of a series of jumpings up and down, without quite raising the +toes from the floor, and of deep sighing. The object aimed at was to +shake down a large amount of good, pure air, into the cells of the +lungs, and retain it there as long as possible; and then, to let out or +force out the air, so as to empty the lungs as perfectly as possible.</p> + +<p>The warm bath was occasionally used at four o'clock in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> afternoon, +but with doubtful effect. Exercise, especially mechanical exercise, was +of much more service, and so was the gymnasium. He was, however, +required to forbear all violence, in his exercises and amusements; nor +was he allowed any severe studies. His reading was to be light, though +not trifling.</p> + +<p>For several months next subsequent to his arrival at the institution, he +appeared to improve. Instead of weekly, or semi-weekly, or still more +frequent attacks, he suffered but rarely; and, in one instance, he was +exempt from an attack for several weeks. But in December and January +they became, once more, rather frequent. They had, however, usually been +most frequent in winter and spring.</p> + +<p>He now began to be apprehensive of a return of his disease, in all its +former violence; and the dread of February, March, and April had an +influence on his system which was any thing but favorable—since fear, +in these cases, is often worse than the evils which excite it. And, +according to his faith, or rather according to his want of faith, so it +was with him. The attacks became very frequent, sometimes daily; and, in +one or two instances, twice a day.</p> + +<p>He came under my special and almost exclusive care, Feb. 1, 1854. I soon +discovered that there was a close connection between excess and +irregularity, in regard to his food and his paroxysms of disease. I saw, +also, that a part of his food had been too stimulating. In justice, +however, I ought to say that in the government of the other appetites, +he had succeeded far better than I had expected, though his power to +control himself was far from being perfect.</p> + +<p>While, therefore, I did not materially change the general treatment in +other particulars, I determined to regulate his diet; and, with a view +to this important end, to watch him, and even to deal out to him his +daily rations, with just as much care and particularity as if he were a +mere child. He ate but two meals a day, and these were taken at <i>twelve</i> +and <i>six</i>; and then I always sat by him. I did not leave him, except for +one single meal, for a period of fifty-five days.</p> + +<p>During the whole of this long period—long, I mean, to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> patient—he +not only had no attacks of his disease, but none of the giddiness or +other symptoms which had formerly accompanied or preceded them. He did +not, it is true, gain in flesh or strength during the time. In all this +and in many more particulars he remained nearly stationary.</p> + +<p>Towards the close of March, his friends became desirous of taking him +home. I was not without apprehension; but, hoping for the best, I +submitted to their wishes as cheerfully as I could. He was among them +for a short time; and was then, by my particular request, as well as in +conformity with his own choice, placed on a farm.</p> + +<p>Nearly three months after his return to his friends, I received a letter +from him, which I insert here, not only as a convenient nucleus around +which to cluster certain suggestions I wish to make to the general +reader, but also as a continuation of my patient's history. It was dated +June 18, 1854.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Physician</span>,—I am now at Mr. ——'s. Every thing +seems to be in perfect accordance with the wishes of those +who are concerned in the case. I can get as plain a diet as +I please, and have nothing, so to say, to tempt me. I +confine myself to a very small variety. I have had +strawberries ever since I came here, which was June 7th. I +eat sometimes nearly a pint at a meal. Sometimes I eat +nothing but strawberries and dry bread. I have some sugar on +the table, and sweeten the berries a little. I eat +considerable potatoe—say two or three at dinner—sometimes +a little more. I have had two dinners of asparagus, just +boiled in a little water, and poured on to some crusts of +toasted bread. It was good. I do not think I have had more +than three things set on the table for me, at a time, while +I have been here. I have bread, potatoes, and berries for +dinner. For supper I have bread and berries, and sweetened +bread, as it might be called. It is sweetened but a very +little. Now don't I live plainly.</p> + +<p>"But I have left out some things that I have had. I had +Graham mush a few days, but I like the bread better, as Mrs. +—— makes such good bread. Mr. —— likes it better than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +superfine. I have had boiled rice—a few meals. I had one +meal of bag-pudding—Indian—with a few whortleberries in +it.</p> + +<p>"I have now given you an account of how I live. I eat at ten +or half-past ten, A. M., and at four, P. M. So I do not have +to go to bed with a meal of victuals on my stomach.</p> + +<p>"After I left you, and before I came here, I had, all the +time, a great looseness of the bowels. It seemed to weaken +me. Afterwards I thought it was caused, partly, by some very +tart, dried apples, of which I ate freely at every meal. +Aunt ——thought it was working at hoeing up turf around +trees, for she said that working hard with her arms affected +her in that way. My stomach did not seem quite right. +Perhaps I strained it in coming home. The very next day +after I came here, I commenced eating the ripe strawberries +at meals, and have eaten them freely ever since. I sometimes +eat nearly a pint at a meal. From the first they have seemed +just the thing for me. They regulated my stomach and bowels, +and they have strengthened them ever since.</p> + +<p>"I eat alone, and enjoy it capitally. I would not go back to +the Institution (the Hygiene establishment) for a great +deal, because there are so many things there to harass one's +mind, or tempt him, at every corner of the street and almost +every shop. Since I came here I have not tasted of any thing +between meals, and have had no inclination to do so. I think +there will be no trouble on that account.</p> + +<p>"I am busy out of doors a good deal of the time. I have hoed +corn, piled cord-wood, driven team, picked strawberries, +etc. At night I milk one cow. I go barefooted three or four +hours in the middle of the day, use no flannels, dress very +thin,—as little as I can get along with.</p> + +<p>"Do you wish me to learn to swim, if possible? There is a +pond—a natural one—about a mile from this place. Will you +not answer me soon, and give me your opinion on this and +other subjects?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In love, yours, etc.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Samuel.</span>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>About a month later, viz., July 18, he wrote thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Doctor</span>:—Five months and a half without a symptom! +I have not the slightest feeling to remind me of my old +attacks. Should I not be thankful?</p> + +<p>"A short time since, I had a very sore stomach. It got out +of order, I think, in consequence of eating too much. I +broke off, went a day without nothing to eat; eat less now, +and feel well. When Mrs. —— was here, she told me she +thought I might eat all I craved. I did so, and suffered the +consequences, though I cured myself.</p> + +<p>"There is a place here in the woods where raspberries are so +thick that people get six quarts at a time. Apples are +nearly ripe. Pears will soon succeed them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yours truly,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<span class="smcap">Samuel.</span>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</div> + +<p>Two weeks later than the above,—a little more than six months after the +discontinuance of the epileptic attacks,—I received a letter from +Samuel's guardian, in which he wrote as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"We have continued the same course of diet as at your house; +in short, have carried out your views perfectly as possible. +Notwithstanding all this, he (Samuel) has lost flesh and +strength; and, for the last few weeks, has fallen off +greatly, in mental and physical vigor. He has run down in +flesh to eighty pounds, is pale as this paper, coughs +considerably, especially at night, yet does not expectorate +very much. He had a spell of spitting blood, some five or +six weeks ago, raised perhaps a gill. I do not think that it +debilitated him very much at the time."</p></div> + +<p>Not far from this time Samuel was taken from the farm, and subjected to +various changes in his habits, which were unauthorized, and which +probably proved injurious. He took a large amount of cream,—an article +which had not before been allowed him,—also a little fresh meat at his +dinners. Instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> of going without his breakfast, as before, he now +appears to have taken breakfast; and in some instances, at least, to +have used not only large quantities of cream at this early hour, but +animal food likewise. There was a strong and increasing belief among his +friends, that his food was not sufficiently nutritious, and that he was +suffering for want of materials for blood; whereas the error lay in the +other direction. His stomach and other digestive organs were overloaded +and depressed by the large amount of nutriment he had for some time +received. But more on this hereafter.</p> + +<p>He now appeared to be falling into what is called a galloping +consumption, of which he died a few weeks afterward. There should have +been a post mortem examination; but, from various causes, it was not +attended to. At the time of his death he was about eighteen years of +age.</p> + +<p>The treatment of this young man on the farm, was by no means what had +been intended. The experiment of having him eat alone was hazardous, and +I sternly protested against it. But the hours at which he chose to take +his two meals, especially the first, were such as to preclude, +practically, a better arrangement. There was no one that wished to eat +at ten in the forenoon, but himself; and it was not customary for the +family to convene for eating in the afternoon, till six. Now, although, +abstractly considered, he selected the best hours for his meals, yet, +taking society as it is, and human nature as <i>his</i> was, it would have +been much better, in the result, had he eaten with the family at twelve +and six. He would have eaten less, and yet would probably have been +better nourished and better satisfied.</p> + +<p>No housekeeper who has the usual feelings of a housekeeper, will be +content to set before a young man of seventeen or eighteen years of age, +no more, for example, than one-sixth as much food as she would prepare +for six such persons. It would seem to her almost like prisoner's fare. +And then, few young men or old ones will content themselves with one +sixth as much food when sitting alone, entirely unrestrained, as when in +company, where pride or self-respect would have influence. And of one +thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> we may, at least, be sure, viz., that Samuel, with his almost +illimitable appetite, tempted by abundance and assured that he might, +with safety, eat as much as that appetite craved, would never be the +individual to stop short of fifty per cent more of carbon than his +feeble machinery could appropriate; while every ounce of the surplus was +burned up by his lungs, at an expense of that vital energy which should +have been husbanded with the greatest care, and expended no faster than +was indispensably necessary.</p> + +<p>His friends, no doubt, supposed—for such views greatly prevail—that he +would not be likely to hurt himself on plain and simple food; and, in +truth, that it was so light and unsubstantial that he needed a large +amount of it to keep him alive.</p> + +<p>One or two individuals, largely interested in him, gave this as their +opinion, more than once, and vainly believe, to the present day, that he +ran down and died for want of proper nourishment. Whereas, we need +nothing more than Samuel's own confessions, to show us, as clearly as +the sunlight could possibly show us any thing, that it is much more +likely that he perished from excess of nutrition than for the want of +it.</p> + +<p>Let us look a little at particulars. It appears, most clearly, that +Samuel always had before him a good supply of bread, of such excellent +quality that he could make a full and agreeable meal of it. While under +my special care, he could eat and enjoy a full meal of the driest bread; +and he would even have proceeded beyond the limits of safety on it, had +I permitted it, and this, too, without berries, sugar, or cream, to make +it still more inviting, or without his "sweetened bread," as he called +it, for a dessert. It is, moreover, by no means probable, that the +morbid keenness of his appetite was at all diminished by being on a farm +and in the open air much of the time.</p> + +<p>Observe, now, his living. Fruit, he says, he allowed himself always, at +both dinner and supper, sometimes a pint at a meal. Dried apple-sauce, +very "tart," as he called it, he appears to have had at every meal. +Sugar, moreover, to sweeten his berries, etc., he always had on the +table. Will one who has such an appetite as he had, eat moderately, +with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> fruit, sugar, and apple-sauce always before him,—and these +regarded as a dessert, of which he may eat <i>ad libitum</i>, after having +eaten a full and more than a full meal of bread? In potatoes, too, he +indulged, as you will see by referring to his letter, in rather large +quantity.</p> + +<p>Now the most healthy person in the world, would ere long have an acid +stomach, as well as weakened lungs, who should undertake to live in this +way; how much more a person who has long been feeble, especially in his +lungs, nervous system, and even his digestive system, for that was +active rather than strong.</p> + +<p>Indeed, there are many circumstances which favor the belief that he +burned himself out by excess of stimulus, or, in chemical language, by +excess of carbon. His thoughts seem to have been very largely on eating. +It will be seen by the extracts I have made from his letters, that after +speaking on any other needful topic, he would soon get back to the +subject of eating. Observe, too, he says he feels no temptation to eat +between his meals; but why? First, doubtless, because he eat to the full +at his regular meals; and secondly, because the food was mostly, if not +always, set away out of his reach.</p> + +<p>Another thing deserves consideration. Not only was he, but his friends +also, inclined to the opinion that he would not, and perhaps could not, +hurt himself on such things as plain dry bread; but they also appeared +to believe, <i>practically</i>, at least,—and the belief is very +common,—that the use of bread would atone for other transgressions. +Thus, suppose he were to have, for once, a rich pudding to eat, or some +baked beans, or sweetened rice pudding,—which, as you know, are of +themselves very pure nutriments,—set before him, and he were to eat to +the full, till the question should begin to arise in his own mind, +whether he had not gone too far, it was apt to be thought, or rather +<i>felt</i>, that an addition of plain bread, or some fruit, or a few cold +potatoes, or some other vegetable, would be a correction for the +preceding excess. Such, I say, is the virtue which, by a kind of +tradition, is awarded to coarse and plain food, and to fruits, and even +nuts. I know, indeed, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> this idea would hardly be defended in so +many words; still, it is practically entertained.</p> + +<p>To make plainer a great dietetic error, I will explain my meaning. It is +believed, for example, that a pound or two of greasy baked beans would +not be so likely to hurt a person, if a little bread or fruit or potatoe +or sauce were eaten after them, as if eaten alone,—a belief than which +none can be more unfounded or dangerous.</p> + +<p>One more proof that Samuel was constantly inclined to excess in eating, +is found in the fact that there was a continual tendency, in his +stomach, to acidity, which was best relieved by a day of entire +abstinence; and the same might be said of a tendency to relaxation of +the bowels, and its correction. In short, if there be a plain truth +fairly deducible from the facts in the case, it is that he was destroyed +by a carbonaceous nutriment in too great proportion for his expenditure.</p> + +<p>It may have been feared by his friends, that he yielded, at this period, +to <i>other propensities</i>. Indeed, one letter which I received after his +death, more than intimated all this. The remark alluded to was as +follows:—"I have had the fear that there was something unexplained +about his case, as you say you once had." For various reasons, I am +inclined to believe that the indulgence referred to had little to do +with his comparatively sudden death. His whole soul was pivoted on that +great central organ, the stomach. For this he lived, and for this, +probably, he died.</p> + +<p>My own principal error, in relation to the case, was, in suffering him +to go upon the farm with such unintelligent, though well-intentioned +teachers. Lord Bacon and others have said, "A little knowledge is a +dangerous thing;" and in nothing is the remark more applicable than to +the first or pioneer knowledge of people on hygiene. From the very +nature of the case it must be so. I ought either to have protested +against the farm, <i>in toto</i>, or given such minute instructions that they +could not have been easily mistaken. But I had my reasons, at the time, +for the course I took, and I thought them quite sufficient. How easy it +is, in this world, to find cause for misgivings!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXII" id="CHAPTER_LXXXII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXII.</h2> + +<h3>SCARLATINA CURED BY LETTING ALONE.</h3> + + +<p>At a certain season when scarlet fever was very prevalent among us, a +member of my family was attacked with it slightly, and, as it was +believed by almost everybody to be contagious, the case excited much +alarm. The fact that in persons of my friend's age, it had, during the +season, occasionally proved fatal, no doubt increased the apprehension +and alarm, and led to many anxious fears about the treatment. Those who +regarded my general method of treating disease as rather too "tame," and +who supposed themselves in special danger of "taking the disease," were +not only curious, but curiously inquisitive to know what I would do in +my own family, to meet this supposed terrible malady.</p> + +<p>My first object was to quiet all fears, especially in the patient. It +would have been easy—comparatively so—to do this, had it not been for +the croakings of our neighbors. They told the sick person so many dismal +stories of persons of her age—she was in middle life—who had died of +scarlet fever, that it was not so easy to resist, wholly, the +impressions. The most resolute and determined are apt to yield, in such +circumstances.</p> + +<p>However, we did the best we could. We endeavored not only to keep her +quiet in mind, but in body. All irregularities were carefully watched +and guarded against; not by giving medicine to prevent evil, real or +imaginary; not by prophylactics, as they are called; but by strictly and +carefully obeying all the laws pertaining to the human, physical frame, +so far as they were then understood.</p> + +<p>It was one object to keep the patient cool,—not, of course, chilly; for +this would have been worse than a temperature a little too high. But +excess of heat, in its application to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> surface, was dreaded as one +of the worst of evils; and no pains were spared in attempts to keep the +sick-room not only cool, but well ventilated. Her food, also, both for +the sake of the general circulatory system, and for that, also, of the +sympathizing skin, was not only cool, but unstimulating.</p> + +<p>In addition to all this, and in pursuance of the same general plan, a +warm or rather a tepid bath was administered. But in applying this the +greatest care was used. The water was only warmed just enough so as not +to feel uncomfortable. It had so good an effect that it was repeated.</p> + +<p>The fever did not run so high as had been expected; and our +apprehensions gradually disappeared. All went on well, and, in a few +days, health was entirely restored. None of the neighbors sickened as +the consequence, either of infection or of contagion.</p> + +<p>I do not mean, by the relation of this fact, to intimate that every case +of scarlatina, treated in the same way, would be attended with similar +results; for the powers of life are often fed by sicklier streams than +in the present case. There is often a large amount, so to speak, of +combustible matter in every "nook and corner," ready to be ignited by +the burning flood, as it courses its way through the system. Yet, even +then, the flame would be greatly diminished by keeping quiet. Who has +not observed the difference, amid a general conflagration, between a +most perfect stillness and a blustering or windy moment? The difference +between perfect quiet of body and mind and great agitation and fear, in +their effects on health and disease, is scarcely less striking, if not, +indeed, more so.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIII" id="CHAPTER_LXXXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>IGNORANCE NOT ALWAYS BLISS.</h3> + + +<p>Pope says of the freethinker, that he may be "all things in an hour." So +may some people in their medical creed, at least, practically. They +change their opinions with almost every change in the position of the +weathercock. To-day they are very orthodox, medically; to-morrow they +are ready to throw physicians and medicine to the four winds, if not to +the dogs. Just as the freethinker is now very orthodox in religious +matters, and in a day or an hour quite out at sea.</p> + +<p>My troubles with patients of this description have been numerous and +great. They promise well, and probably <i>mean</i> well. But just as the new +wad in a boy's pop-gun drives out the old one, in order to occupy its +place, so the very next medical adviser, especially if he have much +self-confidence, secures their entire trust, and I, for the time, seem +to lose it. At least, mine is eclipsed. The people I am describing are +of too easy virtue to be virtuous.</p> + +<p>And whence all this? It arises from ignorance—not very blissful +ignorance, either. As well might Nebuchadnezzar's image, had it +possessed sensation, been blissful, as such persons as these. Brass, +iron, and clay may quite as easily unite to form a reliable compound, as +these persons become settled in opinion with regard to a proper medical +treatment.</p> + +<p>I had one patient of this description who harassed me for many years. It +is true that he finally recovered; but I hardly know how. His recovery, +when I reflect on it, leads me towards the belief that people oftener +get well in spite of their medicine, than as the consequence of using +it.</p> + +<p>He was originally a boot and shoe maker; and being exceedingly +ambitious, he had neglected exercise, and worked too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> hard at the bench, +as well as committed certain imprudences connected with diet, till he +was almost a perfect wreck, from dyspepsia. He was about twenty-five +years of age.</p> + +<p>At first, despite of his ignorance, I had hope of being able to put him +upon the high road to health. He seemed unusually docile. But, as I have +before said, virtue is sometimes too easy. He would believe in and +follow me almost implicitly, for a little while; but when about half or +perhaps two-thirds of the way to the land of health, he would become +impatient, and either run to me anxiously or veer to somebody else. I +have known him to start in pursuit of me when I was a full day's journey +distant, and not easily found even then.</p> + +<p>But I have also known him go, with the same earnestness and anxiety, to +another adviser, and follow his directions with the same care with which +he had followed my own, and perhaps about as long. While following a +person, however, he was, for a very short period at the first, entirely +devoted to him and his principles, which, as far as it went, was +undoubtedly favorable.</p> + +<p>Once he followed, for a time, a clairvoyant,—a female,—and took her +medicine. She gave him, it is true, rather more medicine than he was +willing to take, or even pay for; but as I gave him less than he +desired, he thought it advisable to give her system a fair trial. I do +not know whether he thought himself at all benefited by her +prescriptions. Most certain it is that he did not long follow her, and +that he came to me again some time afterwards, in the same condition as +formerly.</p> + +<p>In another instance, he sought relief of the hydropathists. One of the +most eminent of them had him under his care for a long time. I believe +he even visited, and staid a week or two, at a Water Cure Institution. +Yet he never acknowledged any benefit from this treatment. He finally +tried to unite allopathy and hydropathy, and to invoke their combined +forces. A meeting of myself and an eminent hydropathic practitioner was +appointed and held, but even this did not result in his recovery.</p> + +<p>And yet he finally recovered, though I hardly know how. Such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> cases +force me to the acknowledgment that human physical nature is tough, that +we are machines made to live. Were it not so, this dyspeptic friend of +mine must, at a comparatively early age, have sank to the grave, a +victim of ignorance. He has, however, acquired wisdom in the school of +experience.</p> + +<p>A brother of his, who was my patient in a similar complaint, and from +similar causes, recovered in a very few months. But he was not a mere +weathercock.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIV" id="CHAPTER_LXXXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>MEASLES WITHOUT SNAKEROOT AND SAFFRON.</h3> + + +<p>In the early part of the year 1854, measles prevailed considerably, and +was rather severe even under the most favorable circumstances. In our +cities, such as New York and Boston, it destroyed a great number of +valuable lives. It was by no means confined to children; it attacked +adults, who had hitherto escaped it, as well as children.</p> + +<p>One of my most intimate female friends, who was over forty years of age, +had often been exposed to it without taking it, and had begun to hope +she should escape through life. The family to which she belonged had it, +and in the end a blow fell on her. It alarmed her most fearfully. She +declared, again and again, that she should not and could not survive it, +and her fears greatly aggravated the severity of her symptoms.</p> + +<p>She was well acquainted with the most enlightened views on the subject +of disease, and though her fears were great, she endeavored to pursue +the proper course at first, which, as she knew, consisted mainly in +supporting her strength as much as possible, in the most appropriate and +healthful ways. She had no thought, it would seem, of taking medicine.</p> + +<p>But she had neighbors,—some of them of the gossiping kind,—who called +on her frequently, to convince her of the necessity of <i>taking something +to bring out the measles</i>, and to relate the pitiful story of Mr. and +Mrs. Such-an-one, who perished because they would do nothing to save +themselves, and to entreat her to take at least a little saffron and +snakeroot tea. And they had some influence with her; not indeed at +first, but after she became weakened by the disease. Drowning people, it +is said, catch at straws.</p> + +<p>I was called to see her late one Saturday evening. She did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> not know, as +she said, that any medicine was needed, but as she was considerably +advanced in life, and many had sunk under the disease of late, and as +she had such a continual feeling of depression and fainting, she thought +it barely possible I might think it advisable to give her some little +thing to make her feel more comfortable.</p> + +<p>There were indeed many things that required attention. Her feet were +cold, unnecessarily so, and her room was not properly ventilated. Then +she needed small draughts of water much oftener than she had been +accustomed to receive them, or had dared to venture in their use. She +needed no snakeroot and saffron, nor indeed any other form of herb tea. +I gave particular orders with regard to the little things so needful in +such cases, and in order to be on hand in case of alarm, I remained in +the house till morning.</p> + +<p>More than once during the night, her courage nearly failed her, and I +was summoned to her bedside. In one or two instances, she ventured to +complain of me as neglectful of her case, because I gave her no +medicine. But I cheered and encouraged her as well as I could. Her +disease had made her a child, and she needed a child's treatment. I was +not, indeed, without my fears, but I did not see how her condition could +be alleviated by medicinal agents, unless they become necessary as a +substitute for that faith in Nature, which she was accustomed to +exercise when she had more strength. This faith, as I have already told +you, did indeed sometimes fall a little below the proper standard, but +the depression was in general but momentary.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning a near neighbor called, and kindly inquired how she +did; and when assured that she was, as yet, no better, was unable longer +to repress her feelings. "Why, in the case of <i>my</i> children," said she, +"the measles never came out without giving them something, and they +never would have done so to this day." Yet she had a large family. I +might have asked her how she knew what Nature <i>could</i> have done unaided, +since she gave her no opportunity to test her strength; but she was too +ignorant to converse with on such subjects.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> To have asked her how she +knew whether her children got well in spite of the medicine they took, +or on account of it, would have been but throwing pearls before swine, +and I would not do it.</p> + +<p>It was very soon reported, all over the neighborhood, that Mrs. O. was +in a very dangerous condition, and if she did not have some other +doctor, would soon die. And, what was worst of all, the stories got back +to Mrs. O. herself. And now came the tug of war; and had not the +eruption, just at this time made its appearance, I do not know what the +results might have been.</p> + +<p>Before noon, however, of this day (Sunday), every thing went right, and +Mrs. O. was as blooming as she had been before pale and disconsolate. My +good friend who had given me the morning homily, did not again make her +appearance, and the neighbors in general who had dealt out their +jeremiades so freely, kept themselves at a very respectful distance.</p> + +<p>The recovery was as rapid as could have been expected, even in the most +vigorous young person. Nor was there any after-trouble, to require +physic, or eye-water, or remedies for the dropsy. And,—what added to my +own surprise, if not to that of the neighbors in general,—though she +was a feeble woman, constitutionally, she recovered with as much +rapidity as the most healthy and robust, and as well, to say the least, +as if she had taken "<i>snakeroot and saffron</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXV" id="CHAPTER_LXXXV"></a>CHAPTER LXXXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE CONSUMPTIVE PAIR.</h3> + + +<p>A young man, recently married, called on me one day, and requested me to +visit his family as soon as I could conveniently, for the purpose of +having what he was pleased to call a general consultation.</p> + +<p>I called in due time, and found the case as follows: Both the husband +and wife were descended from consumptive families, and though they had +got along tolerably well till very recently, there were now, in them +both, many evidences of approaching disease; and though consumptive +people are said to be slow in admitting they have consumption, yet this +young couple formed an exception to the general rule.</p> + +<p>In the bosom of the family, and possessed of their entire confidence, I +had an ample opportunity for examining the case of this interesting +couple. I found the tendency downward much more marked and rapid than I +had expected, and I frankly told them so. Some of the circumstances +were, indeed, rather peculiar. Consumptive people are generally sensual, +while indulgence is peculiarly fatal to them. But here was a case more +glaring than I had before seen. They had been married but about three +months; nor were the indulgences of the table believed to be remarkable, +as they were forbidden by a due regard to economy. They suffered much by +excessive heat in their rooms, both by day and by night, and in several +other ways, much more than by high living.</p> + +<p>But I endeavored to put all things right, and to convince them of the +necessity of keeping them so. In a long, but very familiar series of +conversations,—for the most part separately,—I endeavored to show them +that conjugal life was a life of duty, as well as of enjoyment; and that +consumptive people, in order<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> to live out more than half their days, +must forego a great many gratifications to which they might very +naturally lay claim.</p> + +<p>The results of this conversation were probably worth a hundred-fold the +expense they involved. This young couple are, to this hour, for aught I +know, enjoying tolerable health; and their health is improving. Their +children, though not strong, reap the full benefit of thorough parental +reform; and their scrofulous tendencies seem every day more and more +receding.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVI" id="CHAPTER_LXXXVI"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>HOW TO CURE CHOLERA.</h3> + + +<p>While cholera was prevailing in our large towns and cities, and a few +cases were occurring and proving fatal in my own neighborhood, a friend +of mine, who had till recently been a sea captain, complained, one day, +of cholera symptoms, and begged to know what he could do to ward off the +threatened disease.</p> + +<p>On inquiry I found he was more than half right, that cholera, surely +enough, was already marking him for its victim. The rice-water +discharges, so called, had actually commenced. Had he been any thing but +a resolute tar, he would have gone on, most evidently, into severe if +not fatal disease.</p> + +<p>I gave him the best advice I was able, with regard to diet, exercise, +etc.,—probably the same, or about the same, that any thoughtful medical +man, in the same circumstances, would have given. He was to be cheerful, +quiet, and abstinent. For food, he was to use nothing but a little +boiled rice,—at least, till the symptoms of cholera began to abate. He +was especially directed to avoid all medicine.</p> + +<p>Several weeks passed away, during which I heard nothing from him. As I +did not hear of his death, however, I concluded he must have recovered. +One day, rather unexpectedly, I met him again, and inquired familiarly +how he got along with his cholera? He laughed outright, but immediately +added,—"Sit down, sir, and I will tell you the whole story."</p> + +<p>"After I left you," said he, "the thought struck me,—Why cannot I +control the muscles of my system as well as my appetites and passions? +Indeed, on occasions, I have done it, at least for a short time. These +little rice-water evacuations cannot, in the nature of things, do much +harm by being retained.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> I can do what any man can. These frequent +demands of nature seem to me very unreasonable. I will not yield to +them. And, like a good sailor, I kept my word. For nearly a whole day I +never permitted a single evacuation. Then, after yielding obedience, for +once, to nature's clamorous demands, I again enforced my prohibitory +law. My task, the second day, was less severe than it was the first, and +on the third day I got along very comfortably. The fourth day I was +well; and to-day you see me here."</p> + +<p>Whether he told me the truth, I do not know, of course; but I give the +statement, as nearly as I can recollect, just as it was given to me. I +have reason, however, for believing it to be true. The man is still +alive, and is as likely to live for twenty or twenty-five years to come, +as you or I, or any other individual.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Willard, of Troy, New York, under the full impression that the seat +of human life is in the lungs, and not in the heart, and that even the +blue color of the skin during the collapse of Asiatic cholera, is owing +to an accumulation of unburnt carbon in the air cells of the lungs, made +the experiment of trusting a few patients, in this disease, to the full +influence of pure air, and nothing else. According to her account the +experiments were most admirably successful. She cured every individual +she experimented on (and it was a considerable number), and in a +comparatively short period.</p> + +<p>It was my good fortune to escape cholera patients, with the single +exception mentioned above. However, I am quite confident that, but for +the alarm, which more than half paralyzes our efforts, we might much +more frequently recover, under its deadly influences, especially if we +begin the work of preparation in good season, and duly and faithfully +persevere. There is much in enduring to the end.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVII" id="CHAPTER_LXXXVII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>OBSTINACY AND SUICIDE.</h3> + + +<p>Without examining the term suicide, in regard to its various shades of +meaning, I have placed it at the head of this chapter; for I think it +properly belongs there. Of this, however, I leave the reader to judge +when he has heard a statement of the facts in the case to which I have +applied it.</p> + +<p>A young woman was admitted to the family where I was, to be treated for +a nervous complaint so obstinate as to remind one who was not wholly +insane nor strikingly imaginative, of the demoniacal possessions of +eighteen hundred years ago. She would not eat; she would not drink; she +would not or <i>could</i> not sleep. In short, she would not, if she could +help it, do any thing which did not have an immediate bearing on her own +well-being, for the moment. She was, in truth, one of the most selfish +creatures in human shape I ever yet saw. If Dr. Johnson, who is said to +have held that every sick person is a rascal, had seen her, I wonder +what he would have said of the case.</p> + +<p>She was one of those young women who have never been governed, and hence +cannot govern themselves. If she took it into her head to do or not to +do a thing, she would be sure to carry her point, if not in one way, at +least in another.</p> + +<p>How she came to consent to be placed under my care, I never knew; for +all the neighbors and friends of the poor girl well understood that if +she came there she would have to obey me; and yet that, if she <i>did</i> +obey me, it would be the first instance in which she ever yielded to any +mind or will but her own, either earthly or heavenly. Perhaps it was a +last resort—a sort of desperation.</p> + +<p>I began my directions, however, as if I expected to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> obeyed, and had +no fears of any disinclination on her part. Some things which pleased +her, she consented to attempt; others she would tell me she <i>could</i> not +do. When I was quite confident nothing was wanting but a will, I +sometimes asked for a reason; but it could, in no instance, be obtained. +If I pressed her for an answer, or for a reason, she would either be +silent or groan most dreadfully with pain!</p> + +<p>At length I saw that nothing could be obtained in this way, and that she +must either attend to my directions, as far as was really in her power, +or I could have nothing to do with her; and I told her so. She did not +appear to care. Her alienation of feeling was so rapid that in a very +few days she seemed almost to hate the very sight of me. Indeed, I +believe she made statements to this effect to several of her friends.</p> + +<p>Her report, so unfavorable and so very strange, soon reached the ears of +several very respectable people, who in wonder and surprise came to me, +to learn what it meant, and among the rest came her minister. They made +diligent though respectful inquiry whether the facts were as she +represented them to be. I believe that, for the most part, they were +satisfied with the treatment.</p> + +<p>But the girl herself was not satisfied. She could not leave the house +without help; and yet it was easy to see that she was determined not to +remain. She preferred, as she said, to die. Everybody seemed to pity +her, despite of her unreasonableness, and the more for her +unreasonableness. Her friends assured her that this treatment of mine +afforded her the last chance of recovery, and begged her not to decide +to leave us too hastily. It was all to no purpose, however; she said she +preferred death in the street to a cure at my hands.</p> + +<p>There had been serious difficulty about her diet. I had strenuously +forbidden the use of certain condiments which I thought injurious to +her, but which she was resolutely determined to have. At first, a few +things prepared to her taste had been smuggled in by certain psuedo +friends; but this, when discovered, was absolutely prohibited.</p> + +<p>One evening, just at dark, some of her friends called to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> her and +me. They found me in the sitting-room. We had a short conversation +concerning the patient, in which they were made most distinctly to +understand that they must either leave her to be treated wholly +according to my discretion or remove her. They were left at a loss what +course was best; but at length, in compliance with her clamors, they +placed her in their carriage and carried her away.</p> + +<p>This was both the first and last patient that ever ran away from me, or +that ever appeared to be desirous of doing so. On the whole, though no +one pitied her more than myself, I was glad when she was gone. She was +hardly worth curing. I never heard from her more, except vaguely, some +time afterward, that she was dead, which was probably correct. Most +certainly I could not have lived long, in her circumstances.</p> + +<p>I was very unwise in taking the charge of her, or, at least, in +retaining her a moment after she refused to obey me. However, I had my +reward. The public not being possessed of all the facts in the case, +probably lost confidence in me. It was proper that they should. He who +takes a viper to his bosom, must not be surprised if he suffers the +natural consequences of his presumption.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_LXXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER LXXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>HEALTH HOSPITALS.</h3> + + +<p>Some of my friends, fully aware of my strong reliance on the +recuperative powers of nature, and of my growing scepticism in regard to +medicine, entered into combination and proposed to place me at the head +of a hospital, in which I should have an opportunity, as they supposed, +to test the superiority of my favorite practice.</p> + +<p>The buildings needful for the purpose, were to be furnished by one of +the company, gratuitously. For the rest, a subscription was to have been +started. The salary was to have been $1,000 a year. Matters were, in +fine, carried so far that nothing remained but my own acceptance or +non-acceptance, of the proposal, as there was no doubt that the +subscription would readily succeed.</p> + +<p>But I saw, at the moment, so many difficulties, that after a careful +consideration of the subject I was compelled to decline. Situated as I +then was, and with very little self-confidence, perhaps the decision was +right. And yet I have at times, ever since, regretted it. I was not then +so fully aware as I now am, of the stern necessity of such institutions.</p> + +<p>Still later than this, I made an effort to establish a Hospital, on my +own responsibility, and on my own plan. This was, simply, to receive +patients at my house, and teach them, both by precept and example, <i>how +to live.</i> In other words, I was to teach the art of preventing disease +by obeying the physical and moral laws. Even disease itself was to be +cured by obedience to these laws,—those of hygiene.</p> + +<p>At this time, I was residing in the country. Had I been in the crowded +city, I might, perhaps, have succeeded. As it was, I found many +difficulties. Just now, too, among other difficulties,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> my pecuniary +condition became embarrassed, and I was anxious to be freed from debt +before I begun a work which, at best, required a good deal of capital. +Not to be able to labor wholly gratuitously would, as I thought, defeat +my whole plan.</p> + +<p>In these circumstances, and after considerable delay, the whole thing +was indefinitely postponed; and soon after, I removed to a region still +less promising. I shall not, at present, if ever, repeat my attempts, at +least on the plan of doing my work gratuitously. What costs little is, +usually, little valued.</p> + +<p>And yet, such institutions are needed; and the time must come when they +will succeed. Some eminent medical man who already possesses wealth, +will perhaps make the trial. For myself, I prefer a more radical work. I +prefer to throw my own make-weight, while I live, into the scale of +early and correct physical education.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXXXIX" id="CHAPTER_LXXXIX"></a>CHAPTER LXXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>DESTRUCTION BY SCROFULA.</h3> + + +<p>Much is said in these days about scrofula, and much indeed should be +said about it; for it has become a most frequent, not to say fatal, +disease. For, if few die of it, immediately, it leads to, or renders +more severe, numerous other diseases, which are more directly fatal. In +truth, a scrofulous constitution not only prepares us for many other +diseases, but renders them, when they assail us, much more severe than +they otherwise would have been. Colds, fevers, and consumption, in +particular, are not only more frequent in scrofulous people than in +others, but also more intense or severe, as well as less manageable by +medical skill.</p> + +<p>This disease itself, though often inherited, may, on the one hand, be +greatly aggravated by improper treatment; or, by a proper course of +living, may, on the other hand, be postponed many years, if not +indefinitely. Living much in the open air, cheerfulness of mind, plain +food and drink, and a proper regard to the skin, will do a vast deal +towards arresting its progress, and in some instances will wholly +prevent its doing us any harm. For though five millions of the +inhabitants of the United States were probably born with a tendency to +this formidable disease, and the same proportion—if not a greater—of +each generation to come will be likely to have the same tendency, I do +not believe it to be indispensably necessary that one-half of this +number should die, as now they do, of consumption. I have not a doubt +that two-thirds of them might, by proper management, be made to last +many years, and some of them to what is usually called old age.</p> + +<p>It has been my lot to have a very great number of scrofulous patients, +daring the last twenty-five years, from almost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> every part of the United +States. One of the worst cases I ever had was that of Mrs. ——, of New +Hampshire. Her history, prior to the period when she came to me, is very +briefly as follows.</p> + +<p>She was born of parents, who, at the time of her birth, were very near +their dotage; in consequence of which, as it was believed, she held her +existence by a very feeble tenure. At two and a half years of age, she +was nearly destroyed by dysentery, or by the medicine given to arrest +her disease, or by both. In addition to this and almost before she +recovered, she had an attack of scarlet fever, which was very severe, +and which was also probably treated freely by medicine. By this time +there is no doubt that scrofula, at first slightly inherited, had become +pretty well riveted on a constitution already but poorly prepared to +endure it.</p> + +<p>In her seventeenth year, she was afflicted with a troublesome eruption, +which was cured, or at least checked, by a wash of sugar of lead. (See +Chapter XIII.) She was married at twenty-one; and though stinted in her +growth, so as to be almost a dwarf, she seemed, at first, to be +tolerably healthy. But in the course of a year she suffered from various +complaints, to which scrofulous and otherwise debilitated females are +subject in early conjugal life, for which she was treated—as I suppose +very injudiciously—with active medicine, especially calomel.</p> + +<p>And now, as if to render what was already bad enough a great deal worse, +she made use of a certain patent medicine, which had been greatly lauded +in the public papers. She was also persuaded to make use of a more +stimulating diet than before; which was doubtless to her great +disadvantage, in such a feeble condition. Her diet, though it should +have been <i>nourishing,</i> should have been <i>less stimulating</i> than usual, +and not more so.</p> + +<p>Falling in with the famous Sylvester Graham, who was lecturing near her +at the time, she was overpersuaded to change her habits very suddenly, +especially her dietetic habits. From a highly seasoned diet, she was at +once transferred to a very plain one, to which was added cold bathing +and abundant exercise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> in the open air. This change, though it caused +great emaciation, appeared to restore her health entirely. Her appetite +and general strength were such that she thought it almost impossible she +could ever be sick again.</p> + +<p>But now a heavy domestic affliction befell her, which again very much +reduced her; and, as she was wont to say afterward, "killed her." What +it was, however, I was never informed. Being greatly depressed, she +undoubtedly confined herself to the house too much, and in one instance +when she ventured out, she unluckily exposed herself to a damp east +wind, which appeared to give her cold. To remove this, and for other +purposes, she fasted rigidly, for several days.</p> + +<p>It was at this time that she came, in part, under my care. But she was +already so much diseased in mind and body, and so ignorant of any just +principles of hygiene, as to be greatly liable to be led about by the +fancy or whim of this friend or that—sometimes by Mr. Graham and +others, who only relied on Nature; and at others, by those who went to +the opposite extreme. I could do little for her to any valuable purpose, +and was glad to send her to the elder Dr. Jackson, of Boston. Not, +however, till I had given her to understand, in general, that aside from +her scrofulous tendencies, I did not know what ailed her; and that, so +far as I could understand her case, her safest course was to avoid +medicine and depend almost wholly on a careful obedience to God's laws, +physical and moral, especially to his laws of hygiene. I had not then +fully learned how much she had been abused, in early life, by +unnecessary dosing and drugging.</p> + +<p>Dr. Jackson told her it was evident there was something in her case very +much out of the way; but he would be honest with her, and confess that +he did not know what it was. He proposed to have Dr. Putnam see her, and +another physician at Lowell. He insisted, however, on a more nutritious +diet.</p> + +<p>The last suggestion was heeded for awhile, but evidently to her +disadvantage. Under the impression that in order to obtain more +nutriment she must do so, she suddenly returned to the free use of +flesh, butter, eggs, milk, etc., which, for a long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> time, till now, she +had refused. This course brought upon her much acidity of the stomach. +She returned once more to the plain diet, and by avoiding extremes and +letting alone medicine, according to the general tenor of my directions, +she partly recovered, and seemed destined to still higher advance +towards the land of health and life.</p> + +<p>But here, again, domestic trials, like a flood, came upon her, and +brought her into great mental anxiety and embarrassment, as well as into +that weak and vacillating condition which had once before existed, and +which I have already described. To-day she would use her well-balanced, +plain diet; to-morrow, perhaps, resort to the starvation system, for a +few days. Then, in the fear of suffering from that, she would resort +again, for a few days, to luxurious living.</p> + +<p>Now, too, she would adhere to and follow this physician, now that, and +next, none at all; or, perchance, follow some quack. I was not in a +situation to exert much influence over her, or it is possible she might +still have been saved. She would, indeed, adhere to my general plan, +when all else that promised more seemed to fail, and perhaps would have +been more persevering, but for her friends. They wanted to have the +"prophet" do "some great thing," and cure her as by magic or miracle.</p> + +<p>In saying these things, it is far enough from being my intention to be +reproachful. She was not educated to a knowledge of herself; and she was +by no means, at the present time, what she had been in her best days. It +is not to be wondered at, therefore, that she acted like a wayward +child; though it is greatly to be regretted, since, in her +circumstances, it probably cut off every chance of her recovery.</p> + +<p>In the spring, two or three years after her first change of diet, a +cough with which she had occasionally been troubled before, came on with +renewed violence, and never after wholly left her. She remained in this +condition till the opening of the next year, when her cough made still +farther advances, and was attended with hectic fever. She died in the +month of May following.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p> + +<p>A post mortem examination was made, which determined the case to have +been what Dr. Jackson and myself and many others supposed, a case of +scrofula or struma; though it was certainly attended with many curious +and rather anomalous symptoms. Though there were no ulcers in the lungs, +they were found full of tubercles; and so were the mesenteric glands, +and the lining membrane of the alimentary canal. It was even said by the +principal individual concerned in the examination, that her whole body +was but a mass of disease. For myself, I was necessarily absent at the +time, and therefore have no facts of my own to present.</p> + +<p>I never had a case, either before or since, in which my hands were so +completely tied as in this. The patient probably had as much confidence +in me as in anybody; and yet she would not long follow me implicitly and +strictly, without yielding to the whims of her friends or her enemies, +and halving the practice with some physician or quack, either known or +unknown. Under the care of some good, common-sense physician, and with +full faith in him on the part of all concerned, I am still of opinion, +as I always have been, that she might have recovered and lived many +years, and, perhaps, been able to do a vast amount of good.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XC" id="CHAPTER_XC"></a>CHAPTER XC.</h2> + +<h3>STARVING OUT DISEASE.</h3> + + +<p>Dr. Johnson, one of the best British writers on dyspepsia, advises his +medical brethren to starve out the disease, as the surest way of getting +rid of it. He says he has by far the best success with those patients +who submit to this course. It is not starvation, exactly, though it +savors of it. He says, keep them on just two pints of Indian-meal +gruel—by which he appears to mean thin hasty pudding—a day, and no +more. If they are really afraid of starving, after the trial of a few +weeks, let them eat a few times of something else; but they must soon +return to the starvation plan.</p> + +<p>I have usually preferred cakes of Indian meal, or wheat meal unbolted +and baked very hard, to gruel or pudding. The reason is, that I consider +mastication very essential to good digestion, especially in the case of +dyspeptics. I believe the small quantity of Indian meal that goes into +two pints of gruel, or even of pudding, were it firmly baked, would hold +out and sustain the health and strength of an individual much longer +than gruel; and it will, by most persons, be preferred.</p> + +<p>One of my dyspeptic patients, a young man of great resolution, was put +upon ten ounces a day of thin Indian-meal cake, or johnny cake; and it +wrought wonders. The prescription was made about twenty years ago, and +no young man under forty years of age, in Massachusetts, is more +efficient, at the present time, than he.</p> + +<p>To another young man, similarly afflicted, I recommended eight ounces of +the same kind of food. He was from a family that had long known me, and +that appeared to confide in me. I have never heard from him since. My +conjecture is that he refused to follow the directions, and hence did +not wish to communicate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> with me any farther. He may be still a +dyspeptic, as the consequence, though it is certainly possible he may +have obeyed the prescription, to the saving of his health.</p> + +<p>Some have supposed that a quantity of food so small, is not sufficient +to keep alive an ordinary adult; but they are mistaken. Much smaller +quantities than eight ounces have proved sufficient for this purpose, in +a great many instances. Three or four ounces have been found adequate to +every want, in these circumstances.</p> + +<p>As I regard this as a highly important point, I will endeavor to +establish it by two or three facts, which have come, in part, under my +own observation. The first appeared in the <i>Boston Medical and Surgical +Journal</i>, for 1851, and in several other papers. The other is from a +Philadelphia paper, and is as reliable as the former. It is, however, of +much later date; viz., December, 1853.</p> + +<p>Jervis Robinson,<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a> of Nantucket, was a ship-master, born in 1800. In +1832, he became a most miserable dyspeptic. For three or four years he +relied on the popular remedy of beef-steak three times a day, and with +the usual consequences. It made him worse rather than better.</p> + +<p>In the year 1836, a friend of his who had heard lectures on dyspepsia, +or had read on the subject, suggested a new remedy. It was three Graham +crackers daily, one at each meal, without any drink at the time of +eating. This, it was said, if persevered in long enough, would certainly +effect a radical cure.</p> + +<p>But I prefer to let Mr. Robinson tell his own story, which he does in +the following manner:—</p> + +<p>"The novelty as well as simplicity of this prescription, greatly +interested my mind, and I laid the case before my friends. But they, as +with one voice, endeavored to dissuade me from a course which they said +would certainly destroy me. They were particularly afraid of the sudden +change from a full flesh diet to one entirely vegetable.<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a> But I told +them I might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> as well die in one way as another, and that I was resolved +on the experiment.</p> + +<p>"At first I had no Graham crackers; I therefore used the common soft +Graham bread cut in thin slices and thoroughly dried. Twenty-one ounces +a week was my allowance. Of these I made three meals a day, at the hours +of six, twelve, and six. Small as the allowance was, I spent half an +hour in consuming it. Occasionally at evening, I omitted one-half of +even these scanty rations.</p> + +<p>"My drink, for twenty-four hours, was one gill of water, divided into +three equal parts, and one of them to be taken just two hours after each +meal. I also used a cold shower-bath at rising in the morning, and +walked a mile before breakfast, having retired at ten the previous +evening.</p> + +<p>"Under this course, my flesh and strength wasted fast. I was weighed +every week, and for the first three or four weeks, I lost half a pound a +day. The daily loss then diminished somewhat, but was not entirely +discontinued till the lapse of two months. At this time I had lost, in +all, twenty pounds weight.</p> + +<p>"All this time the cry of starvation was heard from every quarter, and I +must frankly own that, for a week or so, I was not myself wholly without +fears. However, my head felt so much better, and my spirits so much +revived, that I began to take courage. My bowels, moreover, which up to +this time had rarely moved, and never to much purpose, now began to move +more regularly, and in about three weeks they resumed their functions +entirely, both as regarded time and quantity.</p> + +<p>"At the end of two months, I ceased to lose flesh, and remained, in this +respect, about stationary for four weeks; but after this I began to +gain. At first, the increase of weight was very slow indeed, but soon it +became much more rapid, so that in two months more I gained nearly what +I had lost, or at the average rate of five or six ounces a day. For a +part of this time, however, the gain was half a pound a day, or nearly +three times as much as the whole weight of my food, and more than the +whole weight of my food and drink together.</p> + +<p>"I have said that I ate three ounces, by weight, of Graham<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> bread, +daily,—an ounce at each meal. But I afterwards procured the Graham +crackers in Boston, and used them a part of the time. Of these, too, I +continued frequently to omit half a cracker at evening. The water, +also,—one-third of a gill,—was generally omitted at evening.</p> + +<p>"As to my appetite, during the experiment, I can truly say that, though +I never in my life came to the table with a better appetite, I was never +better satisfied with my meals when they were finished. After the first +three weeks, I had little or no thirst. Nor had I, so far as I now +recollect, any desire to eat between meals. In truth, food, except at my +meals, was seldom thought of. But, on this subject, my mind had been +made up at the outset. I will only add, on this point, that my bread, +during the whole time, tasted better, far better, to me than the nicest +cake formerly had.</p> + +<p>"As regards perspiration, my skin, after the first three or four weeks +(during which it was dry and hard), became soft and moist. When I used +much exercise, I perspired very freely. My sleep was sound and +satisfying. Indeed, the whole "machinery," so far as I could judge, +worked admirably during the latter part of the experiment, and at its +close I could perform a good day's work at my trade.</p> + +<p>"I was about thirty years of age when I made the experiment. I am now +above fifty. I have not always, nor indeed generally, been as rigid in +my habits since that time. In one instance, however, I worked two weeks +on a ship, at "sheathing," on but five ounces of food a day, and was +never better in my life, and never felt less fatigue at night. In fact, +I felt much better at night than I did in those instances in which I +indulged myself in eating two pounds of food a day.</p> + +<p>"During a part of the time of my principal experiment, I kept a grocery. +On leaving this, I established a Graham boarding-house, in which I +continued for one year.</p> + +<p>"About a year after the termination of my experiment, I had occasion, +for about three weeks, to work in a bake-house, where the mercury in the +thermometer was at 90°. While here, I ate twelve ounces of dry bread and +two apples a day, and drank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> nothing. Yet I perspired as freely as ever, +nor did I perceive any difference in the quality or the quantity of any +other secretions or excretions."</p> + +<p>The reader will take notice that Mr. Robinson's principal or starvation +experiment, lasted five months, or one hundred and fifty days. He will +also observe that he left off the experiment with nearly or quite as +much flesh as he had when he commenced, and with a very great increase +of muscular strength.</p> + +<p>The above statement was so remarkable, that not a few medical men and +others regarded it as a hoax. "To live on three ounces of bread, and yet +be in daily employment," they said, "even though such employment were of +a kind likely to call for very little muscular effort, is altogether +incredible. And what renders the whole so much more unlikely, is, the +yet more extraordinary assertion, that, part of the time, he gained more +in weight than the whole amount eaten and drank."</p> + +<p>It was no wonder that medical and all scientific men were staggered at +the account. I was in doubt myself, in regard to the functions of waste, +and made a very rigid examination, in order to be certain of the facts, +before I ventured to publish any thing. On one or two points, I +afterward obtained Mr. Robinson's particular statement, as follows:—</p> + +<p>"In regard to the question you propose, I shall have to guess a little. +So far as the fluids are concerned, however, I think it was about half a +pint a day. The solids—for I weighed them this morning, and they appear +to me about equal to those voided during the experiment—are fully half +a pound."</p> + +<p>I also recently ascertained another curious fact. Mr. Robinson's +eyesight, prior to the experiment, had, for many years, been very poor, +but was perfectly restored during its progress. It appeared, also, that +he had again resorted to the exclusive use of bread and water for food; +but not in such small quantities as before. Mr. Robinson, of course, is +now above sixty years old.</p> + +<p>One medical correspondent of the <i>Boston Medical and Surgical Journal</i>, +pressed Mr. Robinson, very hard, for corroborative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> testimony concerning +the facts just stated, to which Mr. Robinson very kindly replied, by +sending him the certificate of his wife, Mrs. E. D. Robinson, whose +veracity is undoubted. The certificate was as follows:—</p> + +<p>"The most of the facts which my husband has written, I well recollect, +and will give my name as a voucher for the truth of them."</p> + +<p>A brother of Mr. Robinson, at Holmes' Hole, whom I called on, appeared +to give full credence to the statements of the latter, although he was +much opposed to the experiment, at the time it was made, and mortally +detested all his bread and water tendencies.</p> + +<p>I will only add, that a medical man who was sceptical in regard to the +whole matter, became finally convinced that the story bore the marks of +truth, and made public his conviction, in the subjoined statements and +reasonings.</p> + +<p>"It is no true philosophy to refuse credence to a statement of fact +supported by competent evidence, simply on the ground that we cannot +understand how it can be. That his system (Robinson's) absorbed a very +considerable amount of weight from the moisture at all times existing in +the atmosphere, I have no doubt—partly through the skin, but chiefly, +as I apprehend, through the mucous membrane of the lungs. The fact that +they are capable of transmitting such an amount of water in a very short +time, as may be rendered evident by breathing on a cold, polished +surface, is a pretty conclusive proof that they may, under favorable +circumstances, be as active in absorption.</p> + +<p>"That the alvine evacuations are purely and entirely a secretion, to +become an excretion, I have been satisfied for a number of years; and I +am glad of this new and striking—I might say incontrovertible—proof +that it is so. To be sure, all matters incapable of solution and +digestion, pass off through the alimentary canal, but they are purely +accidental. One of the most satisfactory proofs, to my mind, of the +fact, has been the discharges from the bowels of a healthy infant. The +whole of the milk is so digested that there is no residuary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> matter to +pass through the canal, and yet the discharges are abundant."</p> + +<p>The case of Mary B. Adams, of Oakham, Mass., though differing +considerably from that of Mr. Robinson, is, nevertheless, remarkable. I +have dwelt so long on the preceding case, however, that I must study +brevity. What I shall say, was published in the papers of some years +since, and is from her own pen.</p> + +<p>"In June, 1840, I had an abscess in my throat, accompanied by slow +fever, and in the fall, dysentery. In the autumn of the same year, I +discontinued the use of animal food.</p> + +<p>"In 1842, I had an attack of spinal complaint, which lasted me three +months. In the spring of 1843, I had lung fever, followed, for nearly +two years, by a cough, and accompanied by a very indifferent appetite. A +piece of bread three inches square and one inch thick would serve me for +a meal. A hard fit of coughing, however, was sure to follow every meal. +I also became very much emaciated. In the fall of 1844, I took some +medicine which removed my cough.</p> + +<p>"Through the winter and spring of 1845, I had diarrhœa; and in the +last of May, I was suddenly and completely prostrated. I had risen in +the morning more unwell than usual, but before flight I was suffering +intolerable pain through the kidneys and back; and it was not till the +lapse of two weeks that I was able to walk about the house. All this +while I was entirely destitute of an appetite, though my stomach +continually craved acids. For six months, I lived almost wholly on +fruit. Four good-sized apples a day,<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a> was all that I required. My +drink was, for the most part, catnip tea. Sometimes I could take sugar +and milk in my tea; at others, milk could not be borne. I drank four +teacupfuls of it a day.</p> + +<p>"While I was at one period expectorating largely, I had custards made +from the white of eggs, sweetened with loaf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> sugar, of which I took +three table-spoonfuls, every twenty-four hours. I slept but little—not +more than two hours in twenty-four.... My bowels were very costive; I do +not suppose there were more than two or three natural evacuations during +the whole of the six months I am describing."</p> + +<p>A more particular account of her diet, in 1846, is elsewhere given. It +is in the following words: "During this year I took but little food, and +that of the simplest. I lived chiefly on fruit, such as apples, +currants, strawberries, gooseberries, and blueberries, and other acid +fruits."</p> + +<p>Some years later than this, Miss Adams was still living very simply. "My +food," she says, "is raised bread, and butter, apple or pumpkin pie, and +fruit in small quantity. I do not require more than a third as much food +as most females. In fact, I can eat but little of any thing. My food, +even now, distresses me very much, unless I vomit it. I eat no animal +food, and roots of every kind distress me. I drink tea; I cannot drink +water; it seems, in swallowing it, more like a solid than a liquid."</p> + +<p>There would be no difficulty in adding largely to the list of cases of +dyspepsia which have been cured on the starvation plan; but these must +suffice for the present chapter.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a> For obvious reasons, I give real names and dates in this +chapter.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a> Even Mr. Graham himself, whom he accidentally met, repeated +to him the same caution!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a> Or other fruits equal to them. The reader must not forget +that she had already subsisted five years without animal food, and that +what she took of vegetable food was a very small quantity—little more +than was taken by Mr. Robinson.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCI" id="CHAPTER_XCI"></a>CHAPTER XCI.</h2> + +<h3>DIETING ON MINCE PIE.</h3> + + +<p>A recent letter from a patient of mine, contains the following +statement: "I met, yesterday, with a poor dyspeptic. He said he felt +very bad indeed, and that he had been <i>dieting</i> for a long time. I asked +him what his diet had been. He said 'Bread and butter, for the morning +meal; beef, etc., for dinner; and nothing at all, for supper, but a +piece of mince pie and one or two glasses of cider.'"</p> + +<p>Admitting this to be dieting, it is, at least, such a kind of dieting as +will not be likely, very soon, to cure dyspepsia. And yet to hundreds, +if not thousands, <i>dieting</i> is little more than an increased attention +to what they eat—I mean, from meal to meal. Yet no changes of food, +even for the better, will compensate for this increased watchfulness +over—I might perhaps say devotion <i>to</i>—the stomach. The Philippians, +to whom Paul wrote so touchingly, are not the only people in the world +whose god is their abdominal region. Such an anxious attention to the +demands of an abnormal appetite, only tends to increase that +determination of blood to the stomach, to prevent which all judicious or +effective dieting is intended.</p> + +<p>Dyspepsia only renders her devotees—her very slaves—the more enslaved. +With such, every attempt to cure the disease by dieting is still stomach +worship. They must have their very medicine taste agreeably and <i>sit</i> +well. At all events, they must and will have their minds continually +upon it, and must and will be continually inquiring whether they may +safely eat this article or that or the other.</p> + +<p>It would be almost true to affirm that the fall of man from primeval +integrity, consists essentially in dyspepsia, and that every descendant +of Adam and Eve is a dyspeptic. The attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> of mankind generally, is +directed too exclusively as well as too anxiously, to the inquiry, what +they shall eat, and what they shall drink. That we must eat, and drink +too, is quite obvious—nothing more so. That the Author of nature +intended, also, that we should take pleasure in our eating and drinking, +is scarcely less so. But does he secure to himself the most pleasure who +thinks most about it? Most certainly there is pleasure—<i>much</i> pleasure +in the anticipation of good. We may, by aid of imagination, then, feast +upon the same dish half a dozen times. Yet, does not this—I repeat the +idea—tend to determine an increased amount of blood and of nervous +energy to the stomach, and to aggravate the disease? Let the reader +ponder this question.</p> + +<p>My own most deliberate conviction is, that the stomach, in general, is +best managed, and the greatest amount of gustatory enjoyment secured, +when it is subjected most fully to good habits; that this organ, being +blind and deaf, is best served when directed by the wiser head; or, to +express the same truth in a better way, instead of asking the stomach at +any time what it will have, <i>we should ask the head what is right</i>, and +follow its directions. If the stomach is pleased, why, very well; if +not, let it go without being pleased. Give it what you think is right, +all things considered, and think no more about it. If it rebels, give it +a smaller quantity. If it still complains, lessen still more the +quantity, and perhaps diminish the frequency of your meals. There is no +danger of starving to death, as every one must be convinced who has read +carefully the two preceding chapters. When the system is really in a +suffering condition for want of nutriment, then the stomach will be able +to receive more, and dispose of it. If you give it what is right for it, +there will be no want of appetite—at least, very long. Nay, more; the +mere animal or gustatory enjoyment of that food which the head tells us +is right, and to which we conscientiously adhere, will, in the end, be +far greater than in the case of continual inquiry and anxiety and +anticipation and agitation about it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dyspepsia, I know, has a great variety of causes—as many, almost, as it +has forms. And yet I do not believe it can often be induced by other +causes alone, as long as the stomach is treated correctly. Give to that +organ, habitually, what is exactly right for it, both as regards quality +and quantity, and I do not believe we shall hear any more, in this +world, about dyspepsia.</p> + +<p>But he who would confine his stomach to food which his head tells him is +right, will not surely put mince pie into it. He must know that such a +strange compound, however agreeable, will in the end be destructive, not +only of health, but of gustatory enjoyment.</p> + +<p>The mince pie dyspeptic is just the man for quackery to feed upon. He +will keep his nerves in such a state as to render him liable to read +about and swallow all the wonderful cures of the day—whether hunger +cures, nutrition cures, clairvoyant cures, "spiritual" cures, or any +other cures. Now it is great gain, when we have got beyond all these, +when we simply put into our stomachs what is right, and think no more +about it, leaving ourselves to the event; and this in sickness and +health both.</p> + +<p>A man in the eastern part of Massachusetts,—an asthmatic,—told me he +had spent six hundred dollars in fourteen years, on quack medicines, and +that he was nothing bettered by them. That man, you may depend, is the +slave of his feelings. No man who has been accustomed to dictate to his +stomach what it shall have, and make it submit, would ever do this. A +very poor woman, on the Green Mountains, assured me she had spent, or +rather wasted, four hundred dollars in the same way. We must drop all +this. I do not now say we must drop or lay aside all medicine, in all +cases; that is quite another question. But I do say, we must rely on +obedience to the laws of God, or on doing right, not on medicine. It +will be time enough to rely on medicine when our family physician urges +it upon us as indispensable.</p> + +<p>If I have a single regret with regard to the instruction I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> have given +my patients, from time to time, it is that I have not pressed upon them +more forcibly and perseveringly, such views as are comprised in the +foregoing reasonings and reflections. They are all-important to the +dyspeptic, and by no means less important to the healthy than to the +diseased.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCII" id="CHAPTER_XCII"></a>CHAPTER XCII.</h2> + +<h3>GIANTS IN THE EARTH.</h3> + + +<p>It is said of Job, and his friends who visited him to condole with him +in his sufferings, that they sat down together and said nothing, for +seven days and seven nights.</p> + +<p>Nearly twenty years ago, a man of gigantic frame, but haggard +appearance, came to me, and after the usual compliments,—which were +indeed very dry ones,—sat down by my side, and said nothing; and this +for the very same reason which is assigned as the cause of the long +silence of Job and his friends—his grief and his sufferings were very +great.</p> + +<p>His disease, however, was very different in its nature from that of Job. +It was more like insanity than small pox, or eruptive disease of any +kind. But hear him tell his own story, which I solicited at his hands +for the express purpose of publication:</p> + +<p>"My business, until I was twenty years of age, was farming. Since that +time, it has been mechanical, and for the most part sedentary. From my +youth, I ate animal food of all kinds, prepared in the usual manner. +Twice a day I partook, more or less freely, of such vegetables as are in +general use. Fruits, as they came in their season, I ate whenever and +wherever I could lay hands on them, more especially apples; these last +at almost all hours of the day, and almost without number. I was also in +the habit of eating a luncheon at nine or ten o'clock in the morning, +and just before going to bed.</p> + +<p>"My drinks, till 1830, were principally tea, coffee, cider, and beer; +but sometimes I used rum, brandy, molasses and water, milk and water, +etc. For twelve years previous to 1837, I used tobacco. From my youth, I +have had a fondness for reading and study—have spent many hours in +reading after the whole village were asleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My health I considered good, compared with that of my acquaintances, +and I was able to labor hard, although I was subject to dizziness and +vomiting with such intensity that I could not walk or stand without +assistance; and for a number of days, the complaint seemed to bid +defiance to all medical aid. Here began the day of retribution, and +bitterly have I suffered for my intemperance, both in eating and +drinking. At length, my dizziness in some measure wore away, so that I +returned to my work; but my system had received a shock that was not to +be got rid of at once. And although my dizziness and inclination to +vomit were in some measure removed, yet I grew weaker by degrees, so +that by spring I was unable to perform my daily labor.</p> + +<p>"I continued to decline until summer, when I was attacked with a violent +cough—from what cause I did not know. Some said it was the +hooping-cough, some said it was <i>la grippe</i>. Suffice it to say, I took +all the medicines prescribed by our family physician, followed all his +good advice, and took all to no purpose. I was also persuaded to try the +prescription of a celebrated physician in a neighboring town; but, alas! +his prescription was tried in vain.</p> + +<p>"My cough and dizziness not having left me, I tried a respectable +physician of Boston, who, with an honesty of heart that does credit to +his profession, bid me buy a ninepence worth of liquorice, keep my mouth +and throat moist by chewing a little of that, and let my cough have its +course; 'For,' said he, 'though I should like to sell you medicine and +give you medical advice, for the sake of the emolument, it will do you +no good. Your disease will have its course, and you cannot help it.' I +now thought my days were few; but, as a last resort, I repaired to you."</p> + +<p>He here enters into particulars which are not needful to my present +purpose; and the detail, by one so intimately concerned, and withal so +complimentary to me as his physician, would be fulsome. It is +sufficient, perhaps, to add the following paragraphs.</p> + +<p>"Agreeably to your advice, I now began to reform, in good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> earnest. With +a constitution broken down, and almost rotten with disease, it was no +easy matter for me to cure myself; but to it I went, determined to +overcome or die in the attempt.</p> + +<p>"I now began to think of eating what God created for man to eat. And now +it was that my health began to return; and by the time I had practised +the rules and prescriptions you laid down for me, about three months, my +cough ceased, my dizziness left me, and my health and strength partly +returned.</p> + +<p>"Since that time I have lived on bread made of wheat meal, rye and +Indian bread, rice boiled or stewed, rice puddings, corn puddings, +apples, potatoes, etc. I sleep soundly and sweetly, on a straw bed; rise +at four in summer and five in winter, refreshed both in body and mind; +do as much work as it is necessary for any man to do; am cheerful, +happy, contented, and thankful to God for all his mercies; go to bed at +nine and go to sleep without having the night mare or any thing else to +disturb my rest. I ought to add that I eat no luncheon; and but about as +much in a whole day, as I used to eat at one meal."</p> + +<p>As I have already intimated, it is about twenty years since I prescribed +for this individual, at which time he had a wife and two or three +children. The latter seemed to require not a little watching and dosing. +Now, in 1858, he has a very large family, many of whom have either +arrived at maturity or nearly so; and the whole family have, for many +years, been strangers to dosing and drugging. Except the mother, they +seem like a family of giants, so large are their frames, and so marked +and strong are their muscles. They are pictures of health, so to speak; +and if Mr. Barnum would exhibit them at his museum, or elsewhere, he +might, for aught I know, retrieve his shattered fortunes.</p> + +<p>I know another great family, in New England, whose history, so far as +physical inheritance is concerned, is not unlike that of the family just +described. "There were giants in the earth in those days," hence appears +to be applicable to the world since the flood, as well as to that which +was before it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCIII" id="CHAPTER_XCIII"></a>CHAPTER XCIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE GREEN MOUNTAIN PATIENT.</h3> + + +<p>Not many years since, I received a letter from a family in a retired +village of the Green Mountains, begging me to visit one of their number, +a young woman about twenty-seven years of age. She was a farmer's +daughter, and had been, in early life, employed as is customary in such +families in that region; but, for a few years past had been employed, a +considerable portion of the time, in teaching in the district or public +schools. It is probable she exchanged the employments of home for the +labors of the pedagogue, on account of increasing ill health (though of +this I am not quite certain), since nothing is more common or more +hazardous. The daughters of our agriculturalists, who inherit, as she +did, a scrofulous constitution, and who appear to be tolerably healthy +while they remain at home, almost always break down within a few years +after leaving the broom and duster.</p> + +<p>But whatever may have been the first cause or causes of her diseased +condition, it is probable there had been both action and reaction. She +was now, at the time I received her most piteous petition, quite ill, +and had been so for a considerable time. However, in order to come at +the case and the results, it may be as well to make a few extracts from +the letters of her friends and herself. For, though they were not +accustomed to such descriptions of a case as a medical man would be apt +to give, yet, for popular perusal, they are, after all, the more useful.</p> + +<p>My first extract will be made from a long letter written by her brother.</p> + +<p>"The first attack of what we suppose to be her present disease, was a +year ago last spring, and was believed to be the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> result of taking +severe colds repeatedly, while teaching school among the mountains of +New Hampshire, and which ended in what Dr. K. (their family physician) +called inflammation of the lungs, and was treated accordingly. There was +much cough and expectoration of mucus. Though she partially recovered, +so as to be able to teach again the ensuing summer, yet her cough was +somewhat troublesome till autumn, when health seemed again to smile upon +her.</p> + +<p>"Late in the fall, however, she had a very severe attack of +diarrhœa,—caused, perhaps, by imprudence in diet, and sundry other +deviations from a straight line,—which has been her constant companion +ever since. (This was a period of eight months.) During all this time +her food has passed almost without being dissolved. There is much pain +in the stomach and bowels, unless mitigated by opiates, morphine or +something analogous. But very little cough has attended her since the +last attack of diarrhœa. There has been some pain and soreness in the +right side; an eruption over the region of her stomach, swelling of the +feet and ankles, whenever fatigued by walking, with pain and soreness in +the left ankle.</p> + +<p>"I will now give you, briefly, her physician's views. He was called soon +after the disease had taken hold of her, and made an examination of her +case, which he then called dyspepsia, attended with a little +inflammation of the right lung, or perhaps, said he, a slight filling up +of the air passages, and he thought the lower part of her right lung +might be somewhat indurated. 'Still,' said he, 'the case is not a +serious one.' These were his very words. He said he could cure her; and, +till very lately, he has always held out to her the language of hope. +But now he speaks very differently; he says the case is a hopeless +one—that of tubercular consumption; and he says he has always known it +to be such!—and adds that there is, even now, a small cavity in her +right lung, and that her lungs are passing off in her diarrhœa, +without any inconvenience in breathing, or any disagreeable sensation in +filling the lungs to fulness."</p> + +<p>It is difficult to believe that a medical man who has any regard for his +own reputation, would tell such a downright falsehood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> as that above +represented; and still more difficult to believe he would make the +strange mistake of representing her lungs as passing off through the +bowels! Why, they might almost as well pass though the moon! Probably my +correspondent did not exactly and truly apprehend his meaning; at least, +I would charitably hope so.</p> + +<p>The appeal for relief was so very urgent, and withal so humble, I +visited and examined her, the family physician being present. I found +the latter to be a timid invalid, for whom, before I left, I was +requested to prescribe; which may account, in part, for his very +inefficient practice. I also found him ignorant, in many particulars, of +the first principles of his profession; and it was with extreme +difficulty—like that of mingling oil with water—that we could unite on +any thing reasonable or desirable. He still clung to medicine, as his +sheet-anchor in the case, while I was for depending, mainly, on a strict +conformity to the laws of health, and the restorative efforts of Nature.</p> + +<p>There were other difficulties. A part of the family still inclined to a +reliance on him and his old system, while the rest were in favor of my +general views, as far as they understood them. The patient herself +sometimes inclined to one, and sometimes to the other. While in health, +she had been a woman of much decision of character; but, in her present +condition, she was weak and vacillating.</p> + +<p>But there was, at length, a partial blending of the inharmonious +elements, and a prescription made out. It did not satisfy, however. +There was so strong a leaning to nature, that, after my departure, Dr. +K. gradually worked his way back to his old system of full medication, +as a letter received a few weeks afterwards plainly indicated. For, as +the great change in her treatment which we made, left her no mystical +props to lean upon, and as Dr. K. was a little disposed to speak to her +in a way which was calculated to increase her fears, it preyed upon her +mind so much that, though her diseased tendencies gradually diminished, +yet the continual croakings of her would-be friends, and the +faithlessness of a half-sick and wholly sombre physician, more than +counteracted every favorable tendency.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span></p> + +<p>In about two weeks after I saw her, she began to have more heat and pain +in the stomach, with some other threatening symptoms,—probably induced +by an attempt to use food prescribed for her, but which was too +stimulating. Her physician now, to gratify both his own morbid feelings, +and the clamor of her friends, ordered brandy and other stimulating +drinks; also morphine and camphor powders, and a new relay of +stimulating food.</p> + +<p>The sequel of the story, as related by a sister of the patient, is as +follows:—</p> + +<p>"Soon after I wrote you last (which was the letter containing an account +of the strange resort to beef, brandy, morphine and camphor), she began +to fail very fast, and Dr. K. informed her that she could live but a +very short time. But she clung to life, and it was distressing to see +her going down to the grave, while we were doing nothing to help her. We +spoke to her about sending for you again; but she said you were a great +way off, and if you could come at all, which was doubtful, it would be a +long time before you could arrive; whereas, if she could not have help +soon, she must be compelled to leave us. We asked her if she could think +of any other physician that she would like to see? She replied, that she +should like to see Dr. Q.,—an old physician about twenty miles distant. +We sent for him immediately. He came, and with him her old physician, +Dr. K.</p> + +<p>"I wish to say that she had taken but very little medicine before Dr. Q. +came, except the morphine, camphor, and brandy. But the counselling +physician said that would not do, and he could not help her unless she +took three opium pills, eighteen drops of laudanum, and from six to nine +drops of the chloride of iron, a day; and when she hesitated about being +able to bear it, he told her to drink down the white part of two eggs in +cold water, which would keep the medicine from hurting her.</p> + +<p>"We inquired if he would come again and see her: to which he replied in +the affirmative. She proceeded to take his medicine for one day, but it +quickly increased her diarrhœa. Instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> of six movements a day, they +were increased to thirty-five. Under these circumstances, her weakness +increased so fast that she could help herself very little; and her feet, +hands, and limbs were very much bloated. As Dr. Q. did not come, +according to his agreement, we sent for her old physician. When he saw +her, he said it was a wonder she had lived so long after taking Dr. Q.'s +medicine."</p> + +<p>We are not told, in the letter from which the above is extracted, why +her old physician, Dr. K., consented, in the first place, that she +should take the medicine, if he regarded it as so very bad for her. But, +then, he was a timid as well as a Janus-faced man, and probably said as +he did because he did not know what else to say. But I will go on with +the extracts, since they reveal another most astounding fact in regard +to medical dishonesty.</p> + +<p>"He also (the family physician) told us that we must not expect Dr. Q. +any more, for he told him expressly that he should not come again, as he +could do nothing for her, and that if he had known how she was before he +came, he never would have come so far in a case so hopeless. And, true +to his engagement with Dr. K., but contrary to his promise, both to my +sister and my father, separately, he never came again.</p> + +<p>"But the other doctor came again, and attended her as formerly. He gave +her a powder of morphine, and some gum myrrh, and a little anise, which +reduced the evacuations from thirty-three to three a day. But her +distress was still very great, and her feet soon began to turn purple, +and she began to bloat in her stomach and bowels. This continued till +she was as full as she could be; and you could have heard her scream and +groan as far as the road (a distance of three or four rods). The +physician then applied ether, to relieve her distress, and gave +twenty-five drops of laudanum, and a morphine powder, upon which her +distress left her for a very short time, but soon returned, not to leave +her again while she lived. Almost her last breath was a scream. She died +in just eight days after Dr. Q. came to see her.</p> + +<p>"But I must close by saying that we think if our sister could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> have been +a patient of yours, she would have been restored to health. But it is +past, and we cannot recall it; and all I can now do, is to tender our +thanks to you for your kindness and attention during our sister's +sickness. I trust you will have life and health, long to pursue your +noble vocation."</p> + +<p>I am afraid the patient reader of this long chapter, will be led to one +conclusion which the writer would exceedingly regret; viz., that all +medical counsel, in chronic disease, is of more than doubtful utility; +and that it would be safer to leave it wholly to nature and to good +nursing. There are medical men in the world who are honest as well as +skilful, and who, because a case is difficult to manage, will not, +chameleon-like, tell two or three different stories, and thus half ruin +a profession that embraces so many noble and honorable-minded men; nor +will they persist in a course of treatment which is evidently murdering +their patients.</p> + +<p>It is hardly needful to say that the patient above described was +murdered; but I am obliged to say, without doubt, that there was no +necessity of her coming to such an untimely end. Her sister, it seems, +thought that, had she fallen into my hands from the first, she might +have been saved. I think so too. And yet, it might have been otherwise. +In any event, she ought not, at the first, to have been treated for +consumption, but for dyspepsia. Starvation, and a little mental +quietude, with daily exercise, such as she could bear, in the open air, +would have greatly changed her condition, when her diarrhœa first +commenced.</p> + +<p>I never knew a case which was worse managed in my whole life. It is a +wonder to me, when I think of it, that she so long survived under it. +But it is a wonder, greater still, that medical men who are so +unqualified for the duties of their profession as the physicians who +were most concerned in the treatment of the above case appear to me to +have been, do not feel compelled, by the remonstrances of their own +consciences, to quit their profession, and do something for a living for +which they are better prepared.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCIV" id="CHAPTER_XCIV"></a>CHAPTER XCIV.</h2> + +<h3>CURE OF POISON FROM LEAD.</h3> + + +<p>Cases of poisoning by lead are occurring in our country almost daily; +and it becomes a matter of much importance to know how to treat them. +Indeed, there are many who are so susceptible to the action of this +deleterious agent, that the reception of a single tumbler of water +brought through lead pipes, in a certain condition, into their stomachs, +will cause serious disturbance. I have had one patient of this +description—a Mr. E., of Worcester, Mass.</p> + +<p>Some twenty years ago, much of the water used in the village of Dedham, +Mass., was conveyed to the village, for half a mile or so, in lead +pipes. Many who drank the water were injured by it; some of them for +life. A Mr. R., a printer, is believed to have lost his life, by disease +which was either induced or aggravated by this cause. I have, myself, +been called to prescribe for several, who were probably led into a state +of ill health by this unhealthy water. One of the clergymen of the +village suffered from it very greatly, though he is, as I believe, yet +living.</p> + +<p>There is some difference of opinion as to the circumstances which most +favor the action of the lead, or, rather, which cause its dissolution in +the water. But, with regard to its danger, in certain circumstances, +either known or unknown, there can be no doubt. Nor can we doubt that, +in view of facts which exist, it is our duty to banish lead pipes, as +much as possible, from common use.</p> + +<p>During the early part of the year 1855, Capt. J. H., near Boston, aged +thirty-four years, of good natural constitution and comparatively +healthy habits in general, had a slow typhoid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> fever, from which, +however, he finally recovered, though not without a continued liability +to a relapse. About this time, he began to use water brought to his +kitchen in lead pipes.</p> + +<p>Late in the year 1856, he was taken down very suddenly, with fever and +great debility, and in four or five days his upper and lower limbs +became completely paralyzed. He was not able to stir so much as one of +his hands. Indeed, the whole abdominal region seemed to be almost as +inactive as his limbs; for very severe friction across the hips, and +along the spine, down the legs, produced no sensation; and his bowels +were so constipated, as to remain motionless from five or six days to a +fortnight at a time, unless excited by medical agents.</p> + +<p>His case was examined by several eminent medical men in the vicinity of +Boston, who gave it as their unanimous opinion, that the cause of his +disease was the irritation of the water. Some of them prescribed for his +case, but all to no apparent purpose.</p> + +<p>On the first day of November, he was sent to an electro-chemical bathing +establishment, to be treated according to the usages of that +institution. I was intimately acquainted with the establishment, and, in +circumstances like his, was understood to regard it with favor. I was, +therefore, from time to time, consulted in the case of Captain H. To +give an impulse to the nervous and arterial systems of Capt. H., one +bath was administered. The use of his limbs was restored, as if by +magic. When he came out of the bath, he walked some twenty feet or more, +to his bed, without assistance; and, to his great surprise, could raise +his hands to his head. The second day's bath, and treatment with simple +diet, not only restored sensation, but gave him a better use of his +hands than he had enjoyed before for many months. His bowels, also, +became immediately regular, and continued so.</p> + +<p>It is, however, to be confessed, that his recovery was not so rapid as +at first seemed probable. The baths seemed to give an impulse; but it +was reserved for a proper diet, suitable exercise, and good air, to work +out, slowly, a perfect cure. How much was attributable to the baths, +considered by themselves,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> is not known. No medicine was given, from +first to last, except the electricity.</p> + +<p>It should also be confessed, that no belief was entertained, by myself +or my associates, of any mechanical power possessed by the electricity, +of forcing the lead out of the system; though some individuals had +believed in such a power. The most we claimed was, that the invisible +agent had an immediate influence on the nerves, and a more remote one on +the absorbent system.</p> + +<p>As a farther proof, if more proof had been needed, that the paralysis +was induced by lead, some of the water from which he had drank was +analyzed by Dr. Hayes, City Assayer for Boston, who pronounced it to be +strongly impregnated with lead, and "utterly unfit for culinary +purposes."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCV" id="CHAPTER_XCV"></a>CHAPTER XCV.</h2> + +<h3>FAITH AND WORKS.</h3> + + +<p>In the autumn of 1856, a fine young man, a clerk in a large mercantile +house in Boston, came to me with complaints not unlike those of +thousands of his own age and sex, and begged for relief; but was +surprised when he learned that I treated all such cases as his without +medicine. Added to the surprise, moreover, was a degree of mortification +at the idea of attempting to cure himself by a change of habits, +especially of dietetic habits, which, in a boarder in a family, might be +observed. He would have been much better pleased to take medicine, so +concentrated that a few drops or a few small boluses or pills could be +taken a few times a day unperceived—than to run the risk of awakening +suspicions of diseases to which he was unwilling to make confession.</p> + +<p>And herein, by the way, comes out the secret of such a wonderful +imposition on our young men, by what I have elsewhere called land-sharks +in the shape of physicians. The fondness of young men for secret +cures,—or, at least, their money, which is the thing most wanted after +all,—leads them, almost directly, into the mouths of these monsters.</p> + +<p>My young patient, however, had faith in me; and, after the first shock +of surprise and the first feelings of mortification were over, resolved +to follow my directions, and did so. He came to me, it is true, several +times, and said he could not endure it; that he was losing flesh very +fast, and that he was already so weak that he could scarcely walk to his +desk. I comforted him as well as I could, told him there would be a +change soon for the better, and kept him on through the tedious months +of December, January, and February, when his strength began to return, +and his flesh to be restored.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> Between March and May, he gained +twenty-one pounds; and in June, he was in as good health as he ever had +been before in his life. And yet he took not a particle of any thing +medicinal, from first to last.</p> + +<p>If you desire to know, in few words, what he <i>did</i> do, I will tell you. +First, he took a long walk, regularly,—sufficiently long to induce a +good deal of muscular fatigue,—as the last thing before he went to bed +which was at an early hour. Secondly, he used a cold hand-bath, followed +by much friction, daily. Thirdly, he abandoned tea and coffee (tobacco +and rum he had never used), and drank only water. Fourthly, he abandoned +all animal food and all concentrated substances and condiments, and +lived simply on bread (unfermented), fruits, and a few choice +vegetables.</p> + +<p>It was faith that served this young man,—not faith without works, but +faith which is manifested by works. "According to your faith be it unto +you," might be enjoined on every patient, under all circumstances. But +the most remarkable thing connected with this case, is the fact that +this young man had been brought up <i>in the lap of ease and +indulgence</i>—an education which is as unfavorable to faith as it is to +works.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCVI" id="CHAPTER_XCVI"></a>CHAPTER XCVI.</h2> + +<h3>WORKS WITHOUT FAITH.</h3> + + +<p>A female, in Worcester County, Massachusetts, nearly sixty years of age, +having for many years been a sufferer from domestic afflictions, till, +along with certain abuses of the digestive function, it had brought upon +her a full load of dyspepsia, was at length subjected to a trio of +evils, which capped the climax of her sufferings, reduced her to a very +low condition, and laid her on her bed.</p> + +<p>While lying in this condition, a young woman who was her constant +attendant, and who was acquainted with my no-medicine practice, +recommended to her to send for me. She hesitated, for a time, on account +of the expense; for, though by no means poor, she felt all the pangs of +poverty in consequence of the hard and unworthy treatment of the +individual who was to have justly executed the last will and testament +of her husband.</p> + +<p>But I was at length sent for. I found her under the general care and +oversight of a homoeopathic physician; but as he was ten or twelve miles +distant and had not been informed of my visit, I did not see him. His +practice, however, in the case, was similar to what I had usually met +with in cases which had come under the care of physicians of the same +school, and was, at most, as it appeared to me, negative. She had indeed +been drugged by some one most fearfully, and her whole system was +suffering as the consequence; but it was a physician who had preceded +Dr. A., and who was of an entirely different school.</p> + +<p>I found no great difficulty in persuading her to ask Dr. A., when he +should next call, to suspend his medicine a week or two; and, after +ordering a warm bath two or three times a week, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> certain changes in +diet, with particular care about ventilation and temperature, left her, +to call again the next week.</p> + +<p>On calling, at the time appointed, I was greatly disappointed in finding +her with many better symptoms. There was indeed cough, which busy rumor +had converted into an indication of galloping consumption; but I found +no other symptom which belonged to that disease. The homœopathic +medicine had been suspended, and the warm bath had been applied with +apparent success.</p> + +<p>I left, with the promise of calling again in ten days—but not sooner, +unless they sent for me. At the end of the ten days, I called and found +all things ajar again. Her female attendant had left her about a week +before; and the new attendants—two of them—being destitute of faith in +me, had found no great difficulty in persuading her that she had a fever +of the lungs, and that she would die if she did not take a <i>little</i> +medicine, and that she would do well to recall Dr. A., and take his +medicine.</p> + +<p>When I arrived, at this third visit, I found her taking a small amount +of homœopathic medicine, but without appetite or strength, and +evidently tending downward. It was too late to do any thing, especially +when there was no faith in anything but pills and powders; and I left +her to her native strength of constitution, her homœopathic +physician, her croaking nurses, and God, vainly mourning, all my way +home, about the inefficiency of works without faith, especially in the +case of the sick. This woman's case is recent, and it is possible that +she may recover, in spite of pills, powders, croakings, and +faithlessness. I have witnessed such things. Nature is tough.</p> + +<p>But while I lament the inefficiency of works, where faith is wanting, I +have had one case which seems an exception to the general rule, +"according to your faith," etc., which I take great pleasure in +recording.</p> + +<p>In June, 18—, a young man from the interior of New England called on me +while abroad on business, and desired to receive my advice concerning +certain complaints, attended with great debility, and accompanied by +hernia and varicocele, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> in general, by dyspepsia. On examination, I +found the case a very obstinate one, of long standing. The patient was a +young man of twenty-two, a clerk in a country store, a man of some +principle, and yet trained to find his chief happiness in the indulgence +of his appetite, especially in what is called good eating.</p> + +<p>I gave him some general directions, promising him something still more +specific as soon as I got home. In July, I gave him written directions, +in full, and urged him to push the treatment as fast as possible, in +order to get into a beginning state of convalescence, soon enough to +take advantage of the naturally recuperative effects of autumn. If he +could find himself recruiting in September, the month of October, I told +him, would produce on him a very decided change.</p> + +<p>He went to work accordingly, but it was because it was a last resort, +and he must do so. It was not because he had much faith in me. Some of +his friends, it seems, had directed his attention this way; but when I +came to talk of the starvation plan of cure, to which I so much +inclined, both they and he revolted. However, he made a faint beginning.</p> + +<p>I had foreseen most of the difficulties I had to contend with, and was +prepared to meet them. Thus, knowing full well that if I laid down the +laws of diet in great strictness, either as regards, quality or +quantity, he would be discouraged and do nothing at all, I permitted him +to use almost all kinds of food, and only insisted on a rigid adherence +to the great law, and avoiding medicine. These two points I made much +of, and explained them fully.</p> + +<p>For example: I told him that all kinds of cookery or preparations which +prevented the necessity of teeth labor, such as soaking in milk, forming +into toast, mashing, or in any way softening, were wrong, and must be +avoided. Also, that all additions to our food, whether of foreign +bodies, such as pepper, mustard, vinegar, salt, etc., or of more +concentrated substances, such as molasses, sugar, honey, butter, gravy, +etc., should, for the same reason as well as others, be shunned as much +as possible.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, said I, the question comes before your mind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> whether +you may or may not eat a particular thing, consider first, whether its +use would be a violation of the general laws I have laid down for you. I +gave him many specific directions, at first, and yet continued to urge +it upon him to reason for himself.</p> + +<p>But it seemed, for a long time, a hopeless case. He kept writing to me, +to know if he might eat toast, bread and butter, soup, milk, etc., or to +know why it was that he ought not to make additions of foreign or +concentrated substances, as of pepper, mustard, molasses, syrup, etc. I +have before me sixteen letters from him, in most of which his pleadings +abound, up to the very last but one. This fifteenth letter, dated +December 27, more than six months after my interview with him and first +prescription, has the following inquiries:—</p> + +<p>"Will a diet do for me that admits of any pastry?—of pies, of any kind? +What <i>kind</i> of puddings, pies, and cake will answer? What kind of meats? +What food shall I be obliged to avoid to keep my passions in check? What +am I to eat this winter—next spring—next summer? How much at a time? +Can I eat tripe—corned beef—oysters—lean pork steak? What kinds of +meat and fish will do for me to eat? Any salt fish? Is milk bad in case +of liver disease? Is there any objection to baked sour apples and milk, +or to sour apples after using a little milk or bread? Will you allow me +to eat any simple thing between meals?"</p> + +<p>And in this same letter, after six months' instruction, as aforesaid, he +undertakes to tell me what his habits of living are, which, despite of +all said and done, in the way of personal counsel and nearly twenty +letters, strangely reads thus:—</p> + +<p>"I use some milk three times a day, and almost always soak my toasted +bread in milk. Since I have been out in the open air, I have usually had +some wild game, or a piece of beef steak, or raw eggs, twice a day. My +suppers, lately, have been toasted bread, of any convenient kind +(usually Graham), with milk, about a tumbler full, at a time, or +three-fourths full. I usually eat two apples, with or after each +breakfast and dinner. I use considerable cream soaked into my bread, +when I can obtain it, and some molasses. Now, which is the best for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> me +to use on my bread, at supper time—cream, milk, molasses, or a little +butter?—or with my other meals? Is there any objection to my using all +these now, in proper quantities? Will a little plain sauce do with my +supper? Why do you so strongly object to cream toasts, or cream on +bread? Is chewing gum from spruce trees injurious?—or birch bark? Any +objections to eating two sour apples after breakfast and dinner?"</p> + +<p>Now the great difficulty with this young man was, that he had but little +faith, either in me or in principles—though if I would direct him, from +step to step, like a child, he would obey me, for the moment: though, +like a child, too, he would forget my directions at almost the next +moment, and ask for information on the very same point.</p> + +<p>Was not such a trial almost too great? However, he was destined to +survive it, to live on in spite of it, notwithstanding my after fears. +In March, 18—, he wrote me as follows:—</p> + +<p>"As I have been getting better all the while, and have troubled you with +so many little queries from time to time, I thought I would delay this +letter a while. My health has been constantly improving all winter, and +I think I have not enjoyed as good health before for many years. People +now say, 'How well you are looking!' and 'How fleshy you are!' I mean to +live according to the '<i>laws</i>.'"</p> + +<p>In short, this young sufferer from dyspepsia in one of its worst forms, +after more than half a year of works without faith, and of whining and +complaining a part of the time, without either works or faith, is at +last shouting victory! And a glorious victory it is! Would that the rest +of our dyspeptics, with land by millions, might stand on as good a +footing, with as good prospects before them, as this young man! And yet +he might have come up to the same point long ago, had he used more +common sense, and exercised but a little more faith and trust in just +hygienic principles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCVII" id="CHAPTER_XCVII"></a>CHAPTER XCVII</h2> + +<h3>DISEASES OF LICENTIOUSNESS.</h3> + + +<p>Not far from the end of July, 1857, I received the following, in a +letter through the post office, as usual, and dated at Boston, but +signed by a name probably fictitious.</p> + +<p>"It was with no small degree of interest that I noticed, in a book +written by yourself,—I cannot recollect its name,—some remarks upon +certain diseases which you called nameless; yet, through a dread to +introduce so delicate a subject, I have neglected so to do, till it has +become an imperative task. And now, laying aside all feelings of +modesty, allow me to be familiar with you, as with a father, and to lay +my case before you, assuring you that, however unfortunate I have been, +it is not my fault, but has come upon me while living with my husband, +having never betrayed <i>his</i> confidence."</p> + +<p>She then proceeded at once to describe her disease and sufferings, which +were terrible. It appeared that she had not been of the number of those +who, in circumstances akin to hers, so often fall into shark's mouths. +She had taken but little medicine of any kind, except balsam copaiba. +After the details of her symptoms and sufferings were finished, she +added:</p> + +<p>"Now, if you are able to understand me, I wish to ask you whether, from +the description I have given, you cannot prescribe something that will +relieve me. If so, you can be assured that you will put your humble +correspondent and her erring but repentant companion under great +obligation to yourself, and that you will be rewarded for all your +trouble and advice."</p> + +<p>As the result of this request, a correspondence followed, which +continued several months. At first, the patient clung to the idea that +she could not possibly be restored without minerals,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> or at least +without active medicine of some sort or other, she scarcely knew what. +But she at length understood me, and followed, quite implicitly, my +directions. There was indeed a little shrinking, at first, from the +rigidity, or, as she would call it, the nakedness, of a diet which it +was indispensable to use in order to purify her blood effectually; but +she finally came bravely up to the mark, and probably reaped her reward +in it.</p> + +<p>It is true, I did not hear from her till she came to the end of a very +long road; but up to the last of our correspondence, she was slowly +improving. My belief is that, before this time, she has fairly +recovered, and with far less injury to the vital powers than if +mercurial or other strong medicines had been used.</p> + +<p>And herein we are reminded of a crime that not only has no name, but +deserves none. I allude to the act of communicating a disease so +distressing to an innocent and unoffending female. We had an instance of +this same crime in Chapter LXXIV. If there be such a thing as punishing +too severely, I am sure it is not in cases like these. The individual in +human shape, who, with eyes open, will run the risk of injuring those +whom he professes to love better, if possible, than himself, deserves a +punishment more condign and terrible than he to whom is so often awarded +a halter or a guillotine.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCVIII" id="CHAPTER_XCVIII"></a>CHAPTER XCVIII.</h2> + +<h3>CURIOUS AND INSTRUCTIVE FACTS.</h3> + + +<p>It is morally impossible for any medical man who has kept his eyes open +for forty years, not to have been struck with certain obvious and +incontrovertible facts, of which I present a few specimens.</p> + +<p>The <i>Boston Medical and Surgical Journal</i>, a few years since, in an +obituary notice of Dr. Danforth, who had long been an eminent +practitioner in Boston, makes the following remarks:—</p> + +<p>"Though considered one of the most successful practitioners, he rarely +caused a patient to be bled. Probably, for the last twenty years of his +practice, he did not propose the use of this remedy in a single +instance. And he maintained that the abstraction of the vital fluid +diminished the power of overcoming the disease. On one occasion, he was +called to visit a number of persons who had been injured by the fall of +a house frame, and, on arrival, found another practitioner engaged in +bleeding the men. 'Doctor,' said the latter, 'I am doing your work for +you.' 'Then,' said Dr. Danforth, 'pour the blood back into the veins of +those men.'"</p> + +<p>Dr. Thomas Hubbard, of Pomfret, Conn., long a President of the Medical +Society in that State, was, on the contrary, accustomed to bleed almost +all his patients. Yet both of these men were considered as eminently +successful in their profession. How is it that treatment so exactly +opposite should be almost, if not quite, equally successful?</p> + +<p>There was a discussion in Boston, many years ago, between Dr. Watson, +one of the most successful old-school practitioners of medicine, and a +Thomsonian practitioner, whose name I have forgotten, in the progress of +which the former made the open and unqualified declaration, that, in the +course of four years'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span> practice, he had drawn one hundred gallons of +human blood, and that he was then on the use of his thirty-ninth pound +of calomel.</p> + +<p>Now both these men had full practice; and while one did little or +nothing to break up disease or destroy the enemy, the other did a great +deal; and yet both were deemed successful. Can we explain this any +better than we can the facts in regard to Drs. Danforth and Hubbard?</p> + +<p>Let us look at the case of Dr. M., of Boston, a successful allopathic +practitioner. In order to satisfy his curiosity, with regard to the +claims of homœopathy, he suddenly substituted the usual +homœopathic treatment for allopathy, and pursued it two whole years +with entire success. Curiosity still awake, he again exchanged his +infinitesimal doses of active medicine for similar doses, as regards +size, of fine flour, and continued this, also, for two years. The latter +experiment, as he affirms, was quite as successful as the former.</p> + +<p>Do not such facts as these point, with almost unerring certainty, to the +inefficiency of all medical treatment? Do they not almost, if not quite, +prove that when we take medicine, properly so called, or receive active +medical treatment; we recover in spite of it? Is there any other +rational way of accounting for the almost equal success of all sorts of +treatment,—allopathic, botanic, homœopathic, hydropathic, +etc.,—when in the hands of good, sound, common sense, and conjoined +with good nursing and attendance? Is it not that man is made to live, +and is tough, so that it is not easy to poison him to death?</p> + +<p>But the most remarkable fact of this kind with which I am acquainted, is +the case of Isaac Jennings, M.D., now of Ohio. He was educated at Yale +College, in Connecticut. During the progress of his education, he served +a sort of medical apprenticeship in the family of Prof. Eli Ives, of New +Haven. He took his medical degree in 1812, and soon after this commenced +the practice of his profession in Trumbull, in Fairfield County. Here, +for eight years, he had ample opportunity to apply the principles with +which, at the schools, he had been fully indoctrinated.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> In the summer +of 1820, he removed, by special request, to Derby, nine miles from New +Haven. Up to his second year in Derby, he pursued the usual, or +orthodox, course of practice. The distance from his former field of +labor was not so great but that he retained a portion of his old friends +in that region. He was also occasionally called to the town of +Huntington, lying partly between the two.</p> + +<p>On meeting one day with Dr. Tisdale, of Bridgeport, an older physician +than himself, he said to him, very familiarly, "Jennings, are you aware +that we do far less good with our medicine than we have been wont to +suppose?" He replied in the affirmative, and observed that he had been +inclining to that opinion for some time. "Do you know," added Dr. +Tisdale, "that we do a great deal more harm than good with medicine?" +Dr. Jennings replied that he had not yet gone as far as that. Dr. +Tisdale then proceeded to state many facts, corroborating the opinion he +had thrown out concerning the impotency of medicine. These statements +and facts were, to the mind of Dr. Jennings, like a nail fastened in a +sure place.</p> + +<p>From this time forth his medical scepticism increased, till he came, at +length, to give his doubts the test of experiment. Accordingly, he +substituted for his usual medicaments, bread pills and colored water; +and for many years—I believe five or six—gave nothing else. The more +rigidly he confined himself to these potions, the better he found his +success, till his business was so extended, and his reputation so great, +as to exclude all other medical men from his own immediate vicinity.</p> + +<p>His great conscientiousness, as well as a desire of making known to his +medical brethren what he believed to be true, and thus save them from +the folly of dealing out that which he was assured was only a nuisance, +especially under the shelter of what they supposed to be his example, +led him, at length, to call a meeting of physicians, and reveal to them +his discovery. The surprise was great; but greater or less, according to +their tact for observation, and the length of their experience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the secret was now out, and Dr. Jennings soon began to lose +practice. Instead of employing a man to give them bread pills and +colored water, many chose to take care of themselves, and let the +physician wholly alone; while a far greater number, though they dearly +loved and highly respected Jennings, as an old friend and physician and +an eminent Christian, began to seek medical counsel at other hands.</p> + +<p>The result was, that his business became so much diminished as to leave +him without a full support, except from past earnings, and he began to +make preparations for a removal to the West. But this his friends were +unwilling to have him do, and they accordingly raised, by subscription, +$300 a year, to induce him to remain. In a few years, however, the +subscription failed to be renewed, and in 1839 or 1840 he removed to +Ohio, where he still remains. He does a little business, and what he +does is attended with great success; and yet, the number of those who +follow him is small.</p> + +<p>Facts of similar import, in very great numbers, some more and some less +striking, might be related, to almost any extent; but can it be +necessary? Suffice it to say that some of the oldest physicians in +Boston and its vicinity, the oldest physician in Cleveland, and some of +the most intelligent ones in New York and Philadelphia, as well as +elsewhere, are coming rapidly to the same conclusions with Dr. Jennings, +and a few of them have already arrived there.</p> + +<p>It is from stumbling on such facts as these, together with my own long +experience, all bearing in the same direction, that I have long since +renounced dependence on medicine, properly so called, as a means of +restoring the system, when out of order, to a state of health. In other +words, I have ceased to employ poison to <i>cure</i> poison.</p> + +<p>But, lest it should still be thought I make too much of my own +experience, and of the facts which have been adduced in this chapter, I +subjoin another of kindred character, containing the written testimony +of others, especially medical men, on the subject.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XCIX" id="CHAPTER_XCIX"></a>CHAPTER XCIX.</h2> + +<h3>ANTI-MEDICAL TESTIMONY.</h3> + + +<p>A very large amount of testimony, going to show the inefficiency and +inutility of medicine, might be presented; but I have limited myself to +a selection of some of the more striking and important.</p> + +<p>Let me begin with Dr. Rush, of Philadelphia. In a published lecture of +his, more than half a century ago, he made the following remark:—</p> + +<p>"Dissections daily convince us of our ignorance of disease, and cause us +to blush at our prescriptions. What mischief have we done under the +belief of false facts and theories! We have assisted in multiplying +diseases; we have done more; we have increased their mortality.... The +art of healing is like an unroofed temple, uncovered at the top, and +cracked at the foundation."</p> + +<p>Magendie, late a distinguished French physician and physiologist, says, +as follows:—</p> + +<p>"I hesitate not to declare,—no matter how sorely I shall wound our +vanity,—that so gross is our ignorance of the real nature of the +physiological disorders called diseases, that it would, perhaps, be +better to do nothing, and resign the complaint we are called upon to +treat, to the resources of nature, than to act, as we are frequently +compelled to do, without knowing the why and the wherefore of our +conduct, and at the obvious risk of hastening the end of our patient."</p> + +<p>Dr. Good, a learned and voluminous British writer, also says:—</p> + +<p>"The science of medicine is a barbarous jargon; and the effects of our +medicines upon the human system, are, in the highest degree, uncertain, +except, indeed, that they have already<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> destroyed more lives than war, +pestilence, and famine combined."</p> + +<p>Professor Clark, of the Harvard Medical School, in Boston, in an address +of his, recently published, insists, again and again, that medicine +never cures, and that it rarely, if ever, so much as <i>aids</i> nature; +while he exalts, in an unwonted degree, the remedial effects of every +hygienic influence. Let him who longer doubts, read this most remarkable +production; and with the more care from the fact that it is a very fair +exponent of the doctrines now held at the very fountain-head of medical +orthodoxy.</p> + +<p>From a work entitled, "Memoirs of James Jackson, Jr.," late of Boston, +written by his father, I have extracted the following. It is part of a +letter, written from Europe, to his venerable father, the present elder +Dr. James Jackson, of Boston.</p> + +<p>"But our poor pathology and worse therapeutics—shall we ever get to a +solid bottom? Shall we ever have fixed laws? Shall we ever <i>know</i>, or, +must we always be doomed to <i>suspect</i>, to <i>presume</i>? Is <i>perhaps</i> to be +our qualifying word forever and for aye? Must we forever be obliged to +hang our heads when the chemist and natural philosopher ask us for our +laws and principles?... If honest, must we not acknowledge that, even in +the natural history of disease, there is very much <i>doubtful</i>, which is +received as <i>sure</i>? And in therapeutics, is it better yet, or worse? +Have we judged—have we deduced our results, especially in the last +science—from <i>all</i>, or from a selection of facts?</p> + +<p>"Do we know, for example, in how many instances such a treatment fails, +for the one time it succeeds? Do we know how large a proportion of cases +would get well without any treatment, compared with those that recover +under it? Do not imagine, my dear father, that I am becoming a sceptic +in medicine. It is, not quite as bad as that. I shall ever believe, <i>at +least</i>, that the rules of <i>hygeia</i> must be and are useful, and that he +only can understand and value them, who has studied pathology. Indeed, I +may add that, to a certain extent, I have seen demonstrated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> the actual +benefit of certain modes of treatment in acute diseases. But, is this +benefit immense? When life is threatened, do we very often save it? When +a disease is destined by <i>Nature</i> to be long, do we very often +materially diminish it?"</p> + +<p>It is worthy of remark, that the discussions in the pages of the <i>Boston +Medical and Surgical Journal</i>, for two or three years past, concerning +the treatment of scarlatina, have usually resulted, practically, in +favor of the no-medicine system. It clearly appears that the less our +reliance on medicine, in this disease, the better. But what shall hinder +or prevent our coming to similar results, in the investigation, in time +to come, of other diseases?</p> + +<p>Dr. Reynolds, one of the most aged as well as most distinguished medical +men of Boston, has been heard to affirm that if one hundred patients +were to call on him during the day, and he could induce them to follow +such directions as would keep them from injuring themselves from eating +and drinking,—no matter what the disease,—he should be surprised at a +mortality of more than three per cent of their number; and he should +<i>not</i> be surprised if every one who implicitly followed his direction +should finally recover.</p> + +<p>I will only add, in this place, the testimony of two or three +distinguished individuals on this subject, whose opinion, though they +were not medical men, will with many have weight, as it certainly ought.</p> + +<p>Thomas Jefferson, in a letter to Dr. Caspar Wistar, of Philadelphia, +thus writes: "I have lived to see the disciples of Hoffman, Boerhaave, +Stahl, Cullen, and Brown succeed each other, like the shifting figures +of a magic lantern.... The patient treated on the fashionable theory, +sometimes recovers in spite of the medicine. The medicine, therefore, +restores him (!!!), and the doctor receives new courage to proceed in +his experiment on the lives of his fellow-creatures!"</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott says, of Napoleon: He never obeyed the medical +injunctions of his physician, Dr. O'Meara, and obstinately refused to +take medicine. "Doctor," said he, "no physicking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> We are a machine made +to live. We are organized for that purpose. Such is our nature. Do not +counteract the living principle. Let it alone; leave it the liberty of +defending itself; it will do better than your drugs. The watchmaker +cannot open it, and must, on handling it, grope his way blindfold and at +random. For once that he assists and relieves it, by dint of tormenting +it with crooked instruments, he injures it ten times, and at last +destroys it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_C" id="CHAPTER_C"></a>CHAPTER C.</h2> + +<h3>AN ANTI-MEDICAL PREMIUM.</h3> + + +<p>The Massachusetts Medical Society, in the year 1856, were authorized by +an unknown individual to offer a premium of one hundred dollars for the +best dissertation which should be presented to them, on or before April +15, 1857, on the following subject, viz.: "<i>We would regard every +approach towards the rational and successful prevention and management +of disease without the necessity of drugs, to be an advance in favor of +humanity and scientific medicine.</i>"</p> + +<p>A number of essays were accordingly presented, having, as is usual in +such cases, various degrees of merit; but the preference was given to +one written by Worthington Hooker, M. D., of New Haven, Conn. This essay +is to be published in due time, and it is devoutly hoped there will be +as little delay as possible in the circulation of so remarkable, and, as +I have no doubt, valuable, an essay.</p> + +<p>The facts in connection with this essay, taken as an item in the history +of human progress, are truly remarkable. The very title of the essay is +at once peculiar and striking; but the main idea which it suggests to +the mind is much more so. That a learned society, in the literary +metropolis of New England, if not of the United States, should, at the +present time, in any way or shape, encourage a discussion of the +question, whether, in the practice of medicine, drugs can be dispensed +with, was not an event to be expected or so much as dreamed of. It is, +therefore, I repeat, very remarkable, and must have a deeper meaning +than at first appears.</p> + +<p>What, then, let us inquire, is that meaning? Does it intimate that there +is a belief,—a lurking belief, if you choose to call it so,—among our +scientific medical men, that drugs might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> be entirely dispensed with? +Or, does it rather imply a belief in the possibility of approximating to +such a point,—with those approximations of two mathematical lines, of +which we sometimes hear,—without the possibility of ever reaching it?</p> + +<p>It is by no means improbable, at least in my own view, that the essay +intended by the Boston Society had its origin in a growing tendency, +everywhere, among scientific medical men, to the belief that, in the +most rational and successful practice of medicine, drugs are not +indicated; and that they are only necessary on account of the ignorance +or credulity of the community.</p> + +<p>The family practice of many sensible physicians, perhaps I might say of +most, is strongly corroborative of this main idea. I can point to more +than a score of eminent individuals, in this department, who never, or +at most but seldom, give medicine in their own families; above all, they +never take it themselves. It is indeed true, that some of them are +hardly willing to own it, when questioned on the subject; but this does +not alter the plain matter of fact.</p> + +<p>Thus Dr. S——, ten miles from Boston, is subject to attacks of a +species of neuralgia, which sometimes last two days; and yet, none of +his family or friends or medical brethren have ever been able to +persuade him to do any thing to mitigate his pain, except to keep quiet +and abstain almost entirely from food; and a daughter of his assures me +that she can scarcely recollect his giving a dose of medicine to any +member of his family. Dr. H., seven miles from Boston, not only does the +same, but frequently disappoints the expectations of his patients, by +giving them no medicine. Yet both these individuals are exceedingly slow +to be seen in company with those men of heterodoxy in medicine, who dare +to advocate, everywhere and on all occasions, what they habitually +practice on themselves and their families.</p> + +<p>What, then, I repeat it, can these things mean? Is there not reason for +believing that the truly wise men of the medical profession, at the +present time, are beginning to see, in certain facts which in the +providence of God are forced upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> them, that in the general management +of disease, and as the general rule of treatment, no drugs or medicines +are needful?</p> + +<p>There is a wide difference between that practice of our profession +which, as a general rule, excludes medicine, and that which, as a +general rule, includes it. And an entire change from the latter to the +former, is, perhaps, too great to be expected immediately. Yet, in the +progress of society towards a more perfect millennial state of things, +must it not come?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_CI" id="CHAPTER_CI"></a>CHAPTER CI.</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUDING REMARKS.</h3> + + +<p>It is a notorious fact, that while the number of physicians and the +expenditure for drugs and medicines is constantly increasing, in every +civilized country where they have been much employed, diseases have been +multiplied in proportion. Perhaps, too, they have, in a like proportion, +become more fatal; but this does not so clearly appear. Nor is it quite +so certain that acute diseases have been multiplied, as chronic ones.</p> + +<p>Another fact deserves to be placed by the side of this; viz., that in +those countries, or portions of country, where no physicians have ever +been in vogue, and very little medicine beyond a few herbs, and roots, +and incantations, or charms, the health of the people is quite as good, +and the longevity quite as great, all other things being equal, as in +those countries and places where physicians and medicine have obtained a +strong foothold.</p> + +<p>There is no evidence that the want of physicians before the flood,—if +such a want or deficiency there was, which appears probable,—had any +influence in shortening human life, since Methuselah, who lived at the +end of the series, was the oldest of all. Nor does it appear at all +probable that there were more diseases, or more fatal ones, at that +early period, than since.</p> + +<p>One thought more. It is confidently expected that a better day than the +present is yet to dawn upon our dark world. Not only is it predicted +that the child shall die a hundred years old, by the highest authority, +and that men, like the oak tree, shall live several hundred years, but +profane writers no less<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> than prophets and sacred ones, have expected +and still expect it. The better time coming is, as it were, in +everybody's mouth.</p> + +<p>But, is it probable that this better day will dawn on a world which, in +respect to health and longevity, is going in the other direction? While +nearly half our children die under ten years of age, and the mortality +is increasing, are we tending towards the point when a child shall die a +hundred years old? And are our physicians and our medicines likely to +bring us there?</p> + +<p>If not, and if a radical change is desirable, when is it to be made? +Shall we wait till we have run down a century or two longer, or shall we +begin the work immediately? And if we are to begin it at once, on whom +shall the work devolve?</p> + +<p>These are questions, I grant, more easily asked than answered. +Nevertheless, they must soon be met; they cannot much longer be shuffled +off. Would it not be the part of wisdom to meet them now, rather than +postpone?</p> + +<p>Here, then, I leave the subject. Let it be pondered in the light of +reason, common sense, conscience, and, above all, the truth of God. Let +there be no immature or hasty decisions. Truth, in truthful hands, has +nothing to fear.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_CII" id="CHAPTER_CII"></a>CHAPTER CII.</h2> + +<h3>A LAST CHAPTER.</h3> + + +<p>William A. Alcott was born in Wolcott, Conn., August 6th, 1798. His +father, a farmer in the rough mountain town, employed his son, as soon +as he was old enough to be useful, in laboring on the farm, so that, +from childhood, he was trained to habits of industry. His early +employments were, in many respects, beneficial, and his feeble +constitution was probably invigorated by this out-of-door work. The only +apparent drawback was being kept at work too closely, with very little +time left for amusement; and, as he was too conscientious to neglect the +tasks assigned him, he plodded on, thus losing, in a great measure, +while young, the natural and healthy relish of boys for athletic games +and sports. As a natural consequence, his mind developed too rapidly. He +early showed a great fondness for books, and the love of reading came to +be his chief and almost only amusement.</p> + +<p>Till eight years of age he attended the district school, in summer and +winter, but after this period his father employed him in farm labor +constantly, except during the winter term. At the age of fourteen he had +measles, from which he suffered greatly at the time, and in its +consequences for several years. He grew rapidly, was, when a lad, tall +and thin, and his strength, when young, and, indeed, through his whole +life, lay chiefly in a strong will, combined with great energy and +perseverance. To these qualities, doubtless, is owing the continuance of +his life for many years.</p> + +<p>When little more than eighteen years of age, he commenced teaching, +which was continued, during the winter, for several years; sometimes +through the entire year. But a strong desire to improve and elevate the +schools, led him to overtask himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> Mr. Barnard's <i>Journal of +Education</i>, speaks thus of his labors at this period: "The severity of +his exertions and self-denials, joined to other causes, especially a +feeble constitution, brought on him a most violent attack of erysipelas, +from the effects of which, though he escaped with his life, he never +entirely recovered."</p> + +<p>About this time he commenced the study of medicine, and the succeeding +winter, 1825-6, attended medical lectures in New Haven, not so much with +the design of making it a profession, as with the hope that it might +prove an aid in fitting him to become a more thorough teacher. The +following March he received a license to practice medicine and surgery. +But his health was far from being good, and he was, himself, more +apprehensive of a fatal result, than consumptive people usually are.</p> + +<p>However, he soon found an opportunity to engage in teaching again, and +embraced it eagerly. But here he was destined to disappointment. His +pulmonary tendencies, which had for ten years been increasing upon him, +aggravated, no doubt, by hard study and improper diet of the preceding +winter, now became very alarming. Beside a severe cough and great +emaciation, he was followed by hectic fever, and the most exhausting and +discouraging perspirations. He fought bravely to the last moment, but +was finally compelled to quit the field, and endeavor to regain his +health.</p> + +<p>For a time, he followed the soundest medical advice he could obtain; +kept quiet, took a little medicine, ate nutritious food, and when his +strength would permit, breathed pure air. This course was at length +changed, for one of greater activity and less stimulus. He abandoned +medicine, adopted for a time the "starvation system," or nearly that, +and threw himself, by such aids as he could obtain, into the fields and +woods, and wandered among the hills and mountains.</p> + +<p>In autumn, he was able to perform light horticultural labors, a few +hours of the day, and to ride on horseback. For six months he rode +almost daily in company with a physician; at the end of which period he +commenced the practice of medicine,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> in the place where he had last +labored, and where he was born.</p> + +<p>After continuing in the practice a few years, and his health seeming to +be restored, he ventured to return again to the work dearer to him than +any other—that of teaching. But his labors seemed again to be slowly +undermining his health, and, fearful of a relapse of the pulmonary +tendencies, he abandoned for a time all hope of teaching permanently.</p> + +<p>The following year, he became connected with Rev. William C. Woodbridge, +and continued to labor in the cause of education for several successive +years.</p> + +<p>In Jan. 1833, he removed to Boston, and during the winter had a severe +attack of bleeding at the lungs, and other dangerous symptoms. These, +however, passed away; and the great change which, in 1830, had been made +in his physical habits, seemed to be working one equally great in his +constitutional tendencies. For while his labors were constant and often +severe, there was a steady gain in health. The strength and elasticity +of youth returned, and, to use his own words it was with him, now, +"morning all day." The effects of an unfavorable climate, which he had +feared, were apparently held in check, and he sometimes said that +"Obedience gave him command over climate, in a great degree." Yet, +during all these years when his health was apparently most firm, it was +kept in this condition only by a rigid obedience to the laws of life and +health, as he understood and expounded them. His precepts and practice +were in harmony.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1848, owing to some unusual exposure, a return of the +cough and other symptoms of his old disease made their appearance.<a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a> +But, with care, and light labor in the garden, they gradually passed +away, and his usual measure of health returned, and continued, with +slight interruptions, till 1855. During this year he was confined to his +room several months with a broken limb. The change, at his age, from +exercise daily in the open air, to confinement without exercise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> nearly +all winter, was very unfavorable, in its results, to his general health. +The lungs, doubtless, suffered greatly, and were never able to resist, +as before, the effects of exposure to sudden changes of temperature.</p> + +<p>Still he labored on from year to year, untiringly as ever, writing, +lecturing, visiting schools, etc. During the last winter, his time was +employed more exclusively in reading and writing, and he went out less +than usual. His lungs were weak and very easily affected. A difficulty +of breathing after much exertion was frequent. His feet and ankles were +often much swollen, and there was a loss of strength and general +debility quite new to him.</p> + +<p>These indications were not to be mistaken, and in the retirement of his +own home he often spoke of the possibility and even probability, that +his earthly labors were drawing to a close.</p> + +<p>On the 18th of March, he left home to be absent a few days, partly with +the hope that being more in the open air might prove beneficial. On +Friday of the following week, though scarcely able to be moved, he was +brought home, having been prostrated by what appeared to be a violent +attack of pleurisy, which terminated his earthly existence, on Tuesday, +March 28, 1859.</p> + +<p>In many minds the question will naturally arise: What should induce such +an apparently violent disease, in a person who so rigidly obeyed the +laws of health? A satisfactory answer to this can be given only by +supposing the acute disease to have been merely a finishing up or +termination of that disease which for years had been held in check. His +own views on the subject were in accordance with this conclusion, and +the condition of the lungs, as shown by a post mortem examination, +served to confirm it. The amount of disease found in the lungs was so +great that the examination could not be as careful and satisfactory as +would have been desirable.</p> + +<p>The hand that wrote this volume, and that would have drawn important +lessons from this page of life, now moulders in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> dust. To the reader +it is left to gather from it instruction and motive and courage, for a +like battle against evil, for a like victory over self, until he, too, +shall accomplish his mission upon earth.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a> See Chapter LXIX.</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Forty Years in the Wilderness of Pills +and Powders, by William A. 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