The Funny Side of Physic Part 20

exhibit a little selfishness in attempting to deprive young pract.i.tioners of the opportunity of laying for themselves a foundation for a prosperous future?

"Doubtless," said a medical journal of the day, "all _quacks_ and _irregulars_ are congratulating themselves upon the appearance of this 'order.'" This leads us to ask, "Who are the quacks?"

The governor of Ohio, in 1861, made inquiry of the United States surgeon general, to know if the regiments of that state could be allowed to choose between allopathic and homeopathic surgeons.

"_No: I'll see them d.a.m.ned to h.e.l.l first_," was the gracious reply.

The resolutions drawn up and adopted by the New York Academy of Medicine as an offset against the appeal for admission of homeopathic surgeons into the army (1862), contained the following:--

"3d. That it (homeopathy) is no more worthy of such introduction than other kindred methods of practice as closely allied to _quackery_."

There were then some thirty-five hundred of that sort of "quacks"

practising under diplomas--mostly obtained from regular colleges--in the United States. Shame!

The Royal College, Dublin, the same year, in a resolution pa.s.sed, called Mesmerism and homeopathy quackery.

In an article in the "Scalpel," from the able pen of Dr. Richmond,--about the time that the "swarm of vampires that was the first fruits of the tribe of rooters that swarmed the State of New York under the teachings of T. and B." (Thompson and Beach),--he calls botanics and eclectics quacks and Paracelsuses! Clear as--mud!

So! The calomel pract.i.tioners are quacks. The homeopathics are quacks. The eclectics, and botanics, and Mesmerics, are all quacks! Any more, gentlemen? This is getting things somewhat mixed, and I rush to Dunglison's Medical Dictionary for explanation. Why, a quack is a _charlatan_! I turn to "Charlatan." Lo, it is quack! Clear as mud, again.

In my perplexity I consult Webster. He refers me to a _goose_! So I rush to Worcester, and he implies it is a _duck_! Perhaps the _bill_ has something to do with the name; especially as I am reminded of a suit brought by a Boston M. D. to recover the exorbitant sum of three hundred dollars for reducing a dislocation.

Therefore, summing up this "uncertainty," it seems to be a convenient word, expressive of contempt, which any professional man may hurl at any other whom he dislikes, or with whom he is not in fellows.h.i.+p.

In its general use it is the _thief_ calling, "Stop thief."

It was no unusual practice for physicians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to use calomel in scruple, and even drachm doses. Mazerne "habitually administered calomel in scruple doses." Yandal gave it by the table-spoonful. I knew a physician in Maine who usually administered it by the tea-spoonful, and I saw a woman at Deer Isle, Me., suffering from true anchylosis of the jaw, in consequence of thus taking his prescription. In the same town was a man who was made completely imbecile by overdoses of mercury. In the town of B----l, same county and state, once lived an old quack, for convenience sake, near a large graveyard. _He "owned" it._ That is, he is said to have more victims laid away therein than all the other doctors who ever practised in town. "I knew him well." Once he sent to Boston for _two ounces_ of calomel. There was no steam conveyance in those days, and a sea captain took the order. By some mistake, _two pounds_ were sent. It was not returned. "O, never mind," said the doctor; "I shall use it all some time."

Every state, county, yes, every town, in the Union has its victims to this quackery. In Roch.e.l.le, Ill., is a remarkable case, a merchant. Almost every joint in his frame is rendered useless. He can speak, and his brain is active. He has a large store, and he is carried to it every day, and there, stretched upon a counter, he gives directions to his employes.

Though comparatively young, his hair is blanched like the snow-drift, falling upon his shoulders, and he is hopelessly crippled for life. "He does not speak in very flattering terms of the calomel doctors," said my informant. Neither do the thousands of diseased and mutilated soldiers, the victims to quackery while in the army.

"SPEAKING FACTS.--A little boy, ten years of age, and having a paralyzed right leg, may be seen occasionally among his more able-bodied companions, the newsboys, unsuccessfully striving to 'hoe his row' with his rougher and more vigorous fellows. The limb is wholly dead, so far as its usefulness is concerned and it was caused by giving the little fellow overdoses of calomel, when he was an infant.

"Another victim to calomel lives in the city of Hartford, in the person of a young lady of sixteen, who would be handsome but for deformities of face and mouth, occasioned by calomel given to her when a little child. She cannot open her mouth, and her food is always gruel, etc., introduced through the teeth. But the doctors stick to calomel as the sheet anchor of their faith."

Behold WAs.h.i.+NGTON, who had pa.s.sed through the battles of his country unharmed, and who in his last illness had, in the brief s.p.a.ce of twelve hours, ninety ounces of blood drawn from his veins, and in the same s.p.a.ce of time taken sixty grains of calomel!

Who wonders that he should request his physician to allow him to "_die in peace_"?

Andrew Jackson was another victim to calomel, as well as to the lancet, as the following letter shows:--

"HERMITAGE, October 24, 1844.

"MY DEAR MR. BLAIR: On the 12th inst., I had a return of hemorrhage, and two days after, a chill. With a lancet to correct the first, and calomel to check the second, I am _greatly debilitated_.

ANDREW JACKSON."

Was not this double quackery? First, it was the _Similia similibus curantur_ (like cures like), of the homeopathists, which the Academy of Medicine has termed quackery. Second, it was exhibiting calomel to the injury (debilitating) of the patient.

President Harrison was another victim.

Are not these historical facts? Nevertheless, it is treason to mention them. "And why should any truth be counted as treasonable?" the honest and intelligent reader is led to inquire. "For truth is mighty, and must prevail," eventually.

Yes, yes, truth will prevail. When bigotry and old-fogy notions are uprooted from the profession, and all educated and benevolent physicians strike hands and join fortunes to eradicate and discountenance all forms of quackery amongst themselves, they will then possess the power to suppress outside quackery. Far too many make a _trade_ of the _profession_; and just so long as educated physicians countenance or practise any one form of quackery, so long will they be powerless to check the abominations of charlatans and impostors outside of the profession.

We have not introduced the foregoing facts in the interest of any persuasion. With the bickerings of the various schools of medicine we propose to have nothing to do, except to seize upon such truths as those otherwise useless quarrels are continually revealing. Opposition will not weaken a truth, nor strengthen a falsehood. You who are in the right need, therefore, have no fear as to final results.

It is hard to kick against the p.r.i.c.ks of custom, and custom has perverted the word which is the text of this chapter, and it is now more commonly applied to the ignorant, boastful _pretender_ to the science of medicine.

Now we will introduce a few facts obtained from without the profession.

THE COUNTRY QUACK.

In the town of P----, Conn., there resided two doctors. One, old Dr. B., a regular, and the other, Dr. S--h, an irregular. It was in the autumn, and a fever was prevailing at this time, of a very malignant character. From over-exertion and exposure Dr. B. was taken sick, and in a few days fever supervened. This news spread terror over the immediate community, and the old doctor becoming delirious, his wife and family soon partook of the terror. A neighboring physician was sent for, but being absent, he did not at once respond; and the invalid becoming, as they feared, rapidly worse, Dr. S. was reluctantly called. He was known to be an ignoramus, formerly a peddler, a farmer, horse-jockey, a fifth-rate country lawyer, and, lastly, a doctor. Had Dr. B. retained his senses, he would have sooner died than have admitted his enemy, this "rooter," into his house. He came, however, with great pomposity, examined the patient, whose delirium prevented resistance, and ordered an immediate application of the juice of poke-berries rubbed over the entire skin of the old doctor, as a febrifuge.

"But," inquired the wife, timidly, "is not this an unusual prescription, Dr. S.?" The doctor replied that it was a new remedy, but very efficacious. "You see," he added, with many a hem and haw, "it will out-herod the blush of the skin, put to shame the fever, which retires in disgust, and so relieves the patient."

"And won't he die, if we follow this strange prescription?" asked a friend, while the doctor was proceeding to deal out a large powder.

"No, no; ahem! _You_ do the _dyeing_, to prevent the _dying_. Haw, haw!"

roared the vulgar old wretch, convulsed by his own pun, and the antic.i.p.ation of the ludicrous corpse that he expected to see within a few days.

There was no alternative. The prescription must be followed, and the children were sent to the woods to gather the ripe berries. The quack next proceeded to deal out a dose of lobelia and blood-root, which he left on the desk where Dr. B. prepared medicines when in health, giving directions for its administration, and in high glee took his departure. The insp.i.s.sated juice of the highly-colored berries was applied over the face, arms, and body of the unconscious doctor, the remarkable appearance of whom we leave the reader to imagine.

By mistake, a large dose of camphorated dover's powders which lay on the table was subst.i.tuted for the lobelia of Dr. S., which with the warm liquid applied to the skin, checked the fever, and, contrary to the hope and expectation of Dr. S., the following morning found his patient in a fine perspiration, and the neighboring physician arriving, he was soon placed in a condition of safety.

Notwithstanding Dr. S. told some friends of the joke,--for the worst have their friends, you know,--he was known to have prescribed for Dr. B., his sworn enemy; and as the patient was p.r.o.nounced convalescent, S. received all the credit, and forthwith his services were in great demand. Day and night he rode, till, by the time Dr. B. got out, he was completely exhausted! He became alarmed lest he should take the fever. Such fellows are ever cowards when anything ails their precious selves. He actually became feverish with fear and excitement, and took his bed--and his emetic. He took either an overdose, or not enough, and for hours remained in the greatest distress. Finally, as a _dernier resort_, his wife sent for Dr. B.! Now came his turn to avenge the insult of the painting by poke-berries, which stain was yet scarcely removed from the skin of the old doctor.

"I'll give him a dose; I'll put my mark on him--one that milk and water, or soap, cannot remove. O, I'll be avenged!" exclaimed Dr. B., as he mounted his gig, and drove to Dr. S.

"O doctor, doctor! I am in fearful distress. Can you help me? Will I die?"

whined S., on beholding his opponent.

"No; not such good news. Those born to hang don't die in their beds. But you are very sick, and must abide my directions."

"Yes, yes. Thanks, doctor. This blamed lobelia is killing me, though."

"Then take this." And Dr. B. administered a half tea-spoonful of ipecac, to bring up the lobelia. So far was good.

"Now a basin of water and a sponge," said Dr. B., which being procured, he seemed to examine for a moment very curiously; then ordered the face, neck, arms, and hands of the patient bathed well with the fluid.

On the following morning Dr. B. was sent for, post haste, with the cheering message that "mortification had set in, and his patient was dying."

Off posted the doctor, calling several neighbors, _en route_, who thronged the apartment of the invalid doctor in speechless astonishment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CURIOUS EFFECT OF A FEVER.]

"I'm dying, Dr. B.; O, I'm dying," groaned S., rolling to and fro on his bed.