Life in a Tub

Part 1

LIFE IN A TUB;

WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE TURKISH BATH.

BY ΔΙΟΓΕΝΗΣ.

“If men knew how to use water so as to elicit all the remedial results which it is capable of producing, it would be worth all other remedies put together.” —Dr. Macartney’s Lectures at Trinity College, 1826.

“The Sixth Commandment is suspended by one Medical Diploma, from the North of England to the South.” —Sydney Smith.

THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED.

DUBLIN:

WILLIAM M’GEE & CO., 18, NASSAU-STREET. CORK: BRADFORD & CO., 44, PATRICK-STREET, AND AT ALL RAILWAY STATIONS.

1858.

DEDICATION.

“Men’s evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.” Henry VIII. Act IV. Sc. 2.

TO RICHARD BARTER. ESQ., M.D.

Dear Sir,

To whom can I more fitly dedicate the following pages than to one, to whom, under Divine Providence, I owe the inestimable blessings of renewed health and of an invigorated constitution? Having derived untold benefit from the use of the Turkish Bath, first introduced by you into this country, and having witnessed the wonders effected by it in the case of others, I have felt it my duty to propagate the knowledge of its virtues in every direction: this I have endeavoured to do in the following pages, in conjunction with some observations on the Hydropathic and Allopathic systems.

Should the perusal of these pages lead to the currency of more correct ideas on the subject of Hygiene, and a greater knowledge of the principles of Hydropathy, than, at present prevail, my object in writing will have been fully attained.

Wishing you a long continuance in your career of enlightened usefulness,

I remain, Dear Sir, Very sincerely yours, ΔΙΟΓΕΝΗΣ.

Dublin, October, 1858.

LIFE IN A TUB.

See the wretch that long has tost, On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again.—Gray.

Perhaps there is nothing more characteristic of the march of intellect of the present day, or more indicative of a healthy tone of mind, than the suspicion with which the public in general, and many physicians in particular, are beginning to regard the use of drugs as curative agents—that chiefest engine of the allopathic physician for the relief of suffering humanity.

The freeing of the mind from old and preconceived ideas—from practices, with which we have been familiarized from childhood—the looking with distrust upon a system which since the times of Æsculapius and Hippocrates has held undisputed sway, arrogating to itself the name of Orthodox, and dubbing its opponents as quacks—such a change in public opinion deserves respect or reprobation, according to the causes from which it springs, whether from a calm investigation of the question presented for examination, in which strong arguments, based on natural laws—prescribing a treatment which produces the results aimed at—are found to preponderate in favour of a new system, or from a revolutionary love of novelty, indicative of versatility and want of faith in established institutions, a love of change which would espouse and propagate any doctrine irrespective of its merits, merely because it was new.

That this change of opinion to which we refer, viz., the want of confidence in drugs, is not altogether frivolous, would appear from the following confession of Dr. Forbes, a distinguished allopathic physician, who thus sums up the experience of a long professional career:—

“Firstly, that in a large proportion of the cases treated by allopathic physicians, the disease is cured by nature and not by them. Secondly, that in a lesser, but still not a small proportion, the disease is cured by nature in spite of them; in other words their interference opposing instead of assisting the cure; and Thirdly, that consequently in a considerable proportion of diseases it would fare as well or better with patients, if all remedies, especially drugs, were abandoned.”

Again one of the most eminent of living medical writers says:—

“When healthy properties are impaired, we know of no agent by which they can be directly restored, when vital action is perverted or deranged, we possess no means of immediately rectifying it, but we must be satisfied with using those means under which it is most likely to RECTIFY ITSELF.”

It is the knowledge of these facts that has produced discontent with the usual mode of medicinal treatment, and has encouraged the belief, that it does more harm than good in cases of disease. Dr. Gully states:—

“By it (the drug system) the body is placed in the most unnatural position, and its efforts at relief constantly thwarted. Disease, which is quite as natural a process as health, is not allowed to go on as nature would; the internal organs whose morbid action alone can cause death, are made the arena for all sorts of conflicting and inflicting medical stimulants; and between the action which these excite, and that which originally existed, their vitality fails, their efforts towards restoration flag, and their functions are at last extinguished.”

Part 2

Dr. Rush says:—

“We have multiplied diseases—we have done more, we have increased their mortality.”

The celebrated Dr. Bailie, who enjoyed, it appears, a long and lucrative practice, declared at the termination of his career, “that he had no faith in physic;” and on his death-bed frequently exclaimed, “I wish I could be sure that I have not killed more than I have cured.”

Abernethy observes sarcastically,

“There has been a great increase of medical men of late years, but upon my life, diseases have increased in proportion.”

The British and Foreign Quarterly Journal—the leading advocate of drug medication—thus writes:—

“This mode of treating disease (Hydropathy) is unquestionably far from inert, and most opposed to the cure of diseases, by the undisturbed processes of nature. It in fact perhaps affords the very best evidence we possess of the curative power of art, and is unquestionably when rationally regulated a most effective mode of treatment in many diseases. Still it puts in a striking light, if not exactly the curative powers of nature, at least the possibility—nay, facility—with which all the ordinary instruments of medical cure, drugs, may be dispensed with. If so many and such various diseases get well entirely without drugs, under one special mode of treatment, is it not more than probable, that a treatment consisting almost exclusively of drugs may be often of non-effect—sometimes of injurious effect?”

Dr. Headland, in his prize essay on the action of medicines on the system, thus writes:—

“On no question perhaps have scientific men differed more than on the theory of the action of medicines. Either facts, essentially opposed and incompatible, have been adduced by the disagreeing parties, or which is nearly as common, the same fact has received two distinct and opposite interpretations.”

Such quotations as the above, which might be multiplied ad infinitum, by any student of medical lore, show that enquiry is abroad amongst the medical profession, and that some at least of its members are dissatisfied with the truth of the system which would consider drug medication as an essential instrument in the cure of disease.

The following remarks by Dr. Maclæoud, contained in a letter written by him to Professor Simpson of Edinburgh, show at least, that if the lay public place confidence in allopathic drugging, they place their faith in a system which does not command the confidence of physicians themselves.

“Formerly there were several wards in the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, of which three Fellows of the Royal College of Physicians had the charge. One physician had the top ward, another the middle ward, and a third the low ward. It happened that on the same day, three young persons of nearly the same age, ill of typhus fever, were admitted into the hospital. The disease was of equal severity in each, and the stage of complaint the same in all. What was the treatment pursued in those three cases, by the three Fellows of the College? Of course, it should have been the same, at least, if the system be correct; for the physicians in question would choose the best. But, sir, it was not the same. He in the top ward bled his patient with lancet and leeches. He in the middle ward treated his patient with drastic purgatives. He in the low ward, again, gave whiskey, wine, and opiates. What was the result of such deplorable freaks? I refer you to the statistic book; I have no doubt you will find it there!”

“In the University formerly, two professors used to lecture, on alternate days, on clinical medicine. It happened once that each had, at the same time, under his care an acute case of pericarditis. The professor who lectured on his case on Monday night, said in substance, as follows:—

“Gentlemen.—As to the treatment of this disease, it has been the practice to give large doses of mercury, so as to bring the constitution under its action, and to effect this as rapidly as possible, small quantities of opium are usually combined with it. The practice I, however, believe to be erroneous; for I have observed the progress of the disease unchecked, even during profuse salivation. The most efficient remedy—in fact our sheet-anchor—in this disease is tartar emetic. You will have noticed the large doses I have given of this remedy, and yet the patient seems not to suffer from it. In fact, the constitution in this disease, as in some others, has a remarkable tolerance for tartar emetic.”

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