1st. The more heat there is in the intestines the quicker the body bandages act.2nd. Outward cold applications cause a fresh generation of heat.3rd. By keeping the skin moist, these bandages cause the exudation of peccant humours and eliminate the excess of caloric.4th. They equalise the temperature of the intestines, and keep up a healthy action in them.5th. Wherever there is inflammation, their application and renewal lowers the temperature, and their moisture causes the healing of sores or wounds.
1st. The more heat there is in the intestines the quicker the body bandages act.
2nd. Outward cold applications cause a fresh generation of heat.
3rd. By keeping the skin moist, these bandages cause the exudation of peccant humours and eliminate the excess of caloric.
4th. They equalise the temperature of the intestines, and keep up a healthy action in them.
5th. Wherever there is inflammation, their application and renewal lowers the temperature, and their moisture causes the healing of sores or wounds.
Those most in use, may be termed heating bandages. That for the waist, is worn day and night. It is 8½ feet long; eight or nine inches wide, with a double tape at the end to tie itwith. To be put on with facility, it ought to be rolled up like a surgeon’s bandage, beginning at the tape end. Then as much should be wetted and wrung out as will go once round the body, which the remaining part will cover. The chest bandages are made of coarse linen,doubled, in the shape of a breast-plate, to fit the chest and the throat, tied with three pair of tapes, one round the neck, under the arms, and round the waist. There must be two breast-plates, one to button into the other: the smaller to be wetted, the larger to be dry.
In the water-cure the waist bandage is changed in the morning, at noon, in the afternoon, and on going to bed.
A clammy heat almost immediately succeeds the application of this bandage: a sensation which one soon becomes accustomed to. Large or small bandages of this nature are applied in an infinity of cases. Those afflicted with complaints of the throat or chest, wear the chest bandage at night. Bandages are also applied to the feet and legs as derivatives; and to all wounds, bruises, diseased parts, or wherever pain is felt.
The humid heat of these bandages has a stimulating and absorbent property; they relieve the body of superfluous heat, and extract vitiated matters from the parts to which they are applied, as is frequently seen by the water in which they are washed. Moreover, they regulate the bowels, kidnies, &c.
Mercury is constantly drawn from the pores in these bandages.—Prince Leichtenstein, who had rubbed a light green ointment into his leg twelve months previously to going to Gräfenberg, found that for a fortnight it came out of the flesh by means of these bandages. Some medical men are sceptical on this subject: to be convinced of the truth let such go to Gräfenberg, where they may have constant evidence of the fact.
These bandages assuage pain, and aid in curing—better than ointments and plaisters[sic]. It is in vain that we seek to cure malignant ulcers retained in the system by impure blood with ointments. At Gräfenberg this is effected by the general cure, in which these bandages occupy so prominent a part.
These bandages are used by every patient, and must be renewed after every application of the treatment. If not mentioned in any of the following cases, the omission is unintentional, and those for the waist and diseased parts must be applied notwithstanding.
To any one who has never been in a Water-cure establishment, the application of these bandages will doubtless appear fraught with danger; but so little is this the case, that they are applied to age and decrepitude, to infants as soon as born, and to persons of weak, nervous, and delicate constitutions.
So far from colds being produced by these bandages, when covered with dry ones, we find invalids almost entirely encased in them nightly for months together. Let any one in pain, or who has a sore throat, try them, and he will soon be a convert to our opinion.
In inflammation, congestion of the blood, head-aches, burns, scalds, and wounds, until inflammation subsides, bandages without dry ones over them are used.
For this purpose, linen several times doubled, is wetted in cold water and placed upon the parts affected, where it remains until hot, and then is renewed until the disease ceases for which it was applied.
Sometimes these bandages are changed every ten minutes. In cases of wounds or fractures, sitz-baths accompany these bandages, as together they keep down inflammation.
In inflammation and fever, and in all cases of sickness, discomfort, pain or cramps, a larger bandage than usual is required: this is a sheet folded up and applied from the arm-pits to the thighs, and changed frequently. This large bandage is frequently ordered at night to sleep in, instead of the smaller one.
A gentleman, greatly afflicted, was packed up at night in a wet sheet, with a blanket loosely bound round him, his arms and feet being left free. This afforded him relief from pain. Of course, care was taken that perspiration did not ensue. In the morning the patient took his usual treatment.
The following interesting fact, confirming the advantage of bandages, is related in Baron Larry’s “Memoir of the Russian Campaign.” “An officer underwent amputation of an arm, after which the surgeon lost sight of him for some time. Two years subsequently, he met the officer in the saloons of Paris, who stated, that his wound had been completely cured by the constant application of cold wet bandages, which he wetted at the different rivulets he met with in his retreat, without any other application whatever.”
In a Water-cure Establishment bandages are applied whereverpain or inconvenience is felt. Sometimes a patient has his legs, thighs, loins, and perhaps an arm or his head encased in them at one time, and so sleeps without any precautions as to increasing the amount of his covering.
A well-known English Gentleman caught leprosy in the East. Whilst under treatment at Gräfenberg, he slept in a pair of wet pantaloons, and a wet waistcoat covered with dry ones every night. The dry covering soon became wet, as did the blanket, when the patient felt chilly and uncomfortable, yet no cold resulted. The blanket which was used as a covering attracted the humidity. Priessnitz ordered a second blanket to be put over the first, which absorbed the damp from the first. After a couple of hours this was taken off and the under blanket was found dry: thus the patient was relieved of his discomfort.
A Gentleman afflicted with Lumbago was advised to bathe in the Serpentine in winter. After having done so, he dipped his shirt in the water, wrung it out, and put it on, then buttoning up well and putting on a great-coat and a large neckcloth, he proceeded briskly to Hampstead and back; this produced great heat, and cured the lumbago. These circumstances lead to the conviction that dangers attending the application of wet linen to our bodies, are less real than is represented. Thus, the airing of linen before a fire previous to wearing it, is of no advantage; the slight damp in it, on the contrary, excites the skin, and is more beneficial than otherwise.
One thing the reader’s attention must be called to as an incontrovertible fact. No person ever caught a cold or suffered inconvenience from the application of wet sheets or bandages in the Water-cure.
“It is not the plenty of meat,” says Dr. Scott, “that nourishes, but a good digestion; neither is it the abundance of wealth that makes us happy, but the discreet using of it.”
Whilst under treatment, patients partake of three meals, breakfast, dinner, and supper. The breakfast and supper consist of bread, butter, milk and fruit. Dinner ought toconsist of plain food, that is to say, roast and boiled meat, poultry and vegetables, puddings and fruits; fish and soup are not recommended.
Priessnitz is not an advocate for what is considered highly nourishing food; he contends that quantity is more essential than quality. The act of feeding causes the stomach, like other members of the body, to perform its office.
A written case was presented to him of a person treating himself. Priessnitz approved of what was doing, until he came to where it was stated the patient ate roast beef and mutton daily—through this he struck his pen. This opinion of Priessnitz’s seems confirmed by Dr. Beaumont of the United States, who made some useful experiments upon a young man named —— Martin, who was desperately, though not mortally, wounded, by the discharge of a gun, the contents of which entered the chest, and passed through the integuments of the stomach, so that the whole process of digestion was laid open to observation. The most important inferences arrived at by the doctor, from his observations, were—
1st.—That all stimulating condiments are injurious to the healthy stomach.
2ndly.—That the use of ardent spirits if preserved in, produces disease in the stomach.
3rdly.—That bulk as well as nutriment is necessary to the articles of diet.
4thly.—That the digestibility of aliment does not depend upon the quantity of nutritient principles it contains.
Dr. Beaumont further adds, “Here we have incontestable proof, that disease of the stomach was induced, and going on from bad to worse, in consequence of indulgence in ardent spirits,although no prominent symptom made its appearance, and —— Martin was, in his general habits, a healthy and sober man.”
I put the following questions to Mr. Priessnitz:—“Is it requisite to eat meat every day?” “Yes, whilst under the treatment, because of the waste which the operations and consequent exertions occasion.” “In cases of obstinate constipation, animal food must be partaken of sparingly?” “When not under Hydropathic treatment, meat should not be indulged in every day, except where parties are subjected to great exertion or hard labour, and even then it is better to avoid itoccasionally. In fact, people would be more healthy if they only eat meat on alternate days, and if all their food were cold instead of hot.”
From the habitual use of hot aliments the lining coat of the throat and stomach becomes distended and weak—hence bronchitis and weak digestion.
To the question as to drinking water. Priessnitz said, “Drink plentifully at every meal, finish by a tumbler or two, and don’t fail drinking five or six glasses daily.”
Experience which is better than a thousand theories, proves that after partaking of indigestible food, or eating too much, a few glasses of water relieve the stomach. One is at a loss to conceive why people should avoid drinking water at their meals, since none suffer from its use, and Nature seems to require it. Those who feel indisposed, by abstaining from food altogether for a day and drinking water, may frequently avoid a serious illness.
Butter is fat food and bad for delicate digestions. The leaner the food the better, to restore tone to the stomach and bowels. To people of strong digestions this does not apply.
If we look around us, we find that three-fourths of the human family live and labour, and digest, without tasting animal food; that the remaining fourth, who indulge in it, do more homage to Apothecaries’ Hall than all the rest. But it is argued, much depends upon climate: then how shall we reconcile the rice of the East, the potato of Ireland, the oatmeal of Scotland, and the rye-bread of Poland? We can easily understand people in hot countries living upon rice, maccaroni[sic], etc.; but if what we understand by the term, nutritious food, is absolutely indispensable, how reconcile ourselves to the potato as the only food for the largest portion of the inhabitants of Ireland? Rye, which is the staff of life to the Poles, is a grain next in degree to wheat; then follow barley and oats. Potatoes are the very worst and lowest description of food. Rye-bread is as manna sent from heaven, in comparison with oatmeal, the chief food of the highlands of Scotland; yet we see strong healthy people in Ireland and Scotland, living solely upon these to a fine old age, without the assistance of the Pharmacopœia.
Does not this prove Mr. Priessnitz is right, when he says quantity is more essential than quality?
The great mass of mankind live on vegetable diet, which comprehends all the products of the earth. An author tells us, “Recent discoveries have shewn that vegetables contain the same elements as flesh: the same gluten, albumen, fibrin, and oily matters that exist in a beefsteak, are also found in our esculent vegetables.”
Experience proves that vegetable diet is lighter and less liable to bring on disease, than one in which animal food largely prevails.
From an early period the philosophers of Greece,—from amongst whom we may cite Zeno, Plutarch, Porphyrus, and Plautinus,—advocated and practised an exclusively vegetable diet. The Pythagorean sages inculcated the same: hence the prevalence of rice diet over the vast and densely-peopled regions of Asia. Mahomet is said to have lived upon dates and water. It is related that the philanthropists, Swedenborg and Howard, were vegetarians; that Newton, Descartes, Haller, Hufeland, Byron, Shelley, and a host of other men of genius, were advocates of a vegetable diet. The continued use of meat produces scurvy, liver disease, rheumatism, gout, piles, etc.
Lamartine is a vegetarian.
On the score of economy, it is ascertained that the same plot of ground which would provide animal food for one man, would feed seventeen on vegetables.
For sick and delicate people, nutritious food should give way to coarser fare when under treatment. Priessnitz says he lost a colonel in the army, entirely from his indulgence in niceties and nourishing food; he could not be induced to confine himself to plain coarse fare: his digestion, in consequence, was always impaired.
Salt is injurious when acid humours or sores affect the body.
All spices, such as pepper, cloves, cinnamon, and mustard, are to be avoided, on account of their stimulating properties: nature gave these stimulants to the Indians, because their burning sky, by enervating the body, rendered them necessary.
In our climate the air is more compressed, and contains a larger amount of oxygen, which predisposes to inflammatory diseases. “Use,” says Priessnitz, “the seasonings nature has given us, and leave to foreigners theirs: nature has provided for man’s wants; our eatables ought, on that account, to agree with us the better.”
Good household or brown bread is considered better than white bread.
Beer, wine, and alcohols of all kinds, are interdicted, as not assimilating with the food. It is a mistake to suppose that such things assist digestion: they have a totally opposite effect. Every museum of natural history exhibits substances preserved in wine, spirits of wine, or spirits, which would be dissolved in water.
A question arises, if, after having undergone the Water-cure, it is requisite to pursue any particular regimen? To this it may be answered, that those who continue a life of temperance stand a better chance of enjoying health and happiness than those who do not; but abstemiousness does not follow the Water-cure as a matter of course, any more than it does medical treatment. It is, however, necessary to abstain from intemperance for a short time after leaving off the treatment, or serious consequences may ensue.
To those who have passed the meridian of life, whose circulation is languid, who have been accustomed to stimulants, Mr. Priessnitz recommends the occasional use of light wines; and in speaking of wine as an alterative, he admitted that there could be no rule without an exception.
Tea and coffee attack the nerves. In my travels through Ireland, I was shocked at the ravages made upon the weaker sex by tea, the abuse of which has become a besetting sin. Give two or three cups of strong tea to one unaccustomed to it, and its effects will be evident upon the nervous system: in most cases it will deprive the recipient of sleep. I have known a strong man who, to cure headache, drank three or four cups of strong black tea, who, a few hours afterwards, trembled from head to foot. The same often attends the drinking of coffee. Dr. Sir Charles Scudamore, in his work on Hydropathy, states that Liebig, the best living chemical authority, said that coffee impeded the digestion of food for one or two hours, its carbonaceous principle requiring oxygen; and that he looked upon green tea as a poison. Tea and coffee-drinkers declare that neither affect them, and refer to persons who have drank both during a long life, and are, notwithstanding, in health. There are exceptions. The Bacchanalian, in like manner, justifies his revels, and the Turk his opium—but“mark the end!”
Stomachs weakened by the continued use of stimulants revolt at milk, which is the only food of most animals when young, and, as such, contains a large amount of nutriment, which is not the case with tea or coffee. I know a lady, the wife of one of Napoleon’s marshals, who, for some complaint, was prescribed a milk diet. During a period of twenty years she has not taken an ounce of anything in the shape of food, having confined herself entirely to milk. Her health has been invariably good, and, though no longer young, can endure an excursion on foot over the mountains of Switzerland better than any of my female acquaintances. Does not this speak volumes in favour of milk as a diet for children or adults?
At Gräfenberg, patients who cannot drink milk mix it with water until the stomach gains tone; others drink sour milk, and find it agree with them, when common milk would not: this is to be accounted for from the milk having already undergone the first process of fermentation, which process would otherwise have taken place in the stomach. Most new-comers to Gräfenberg have a strong prejudice against sour milk, which, after persevering in taking it for some time, generally ends in their liking it exceedingly. Sour milk, with sugar and strawberries, is delicious. Boiled milk, with bread broken in it, agrees with most people, and makes a nourishing meal. To those with whom milk alone does not agree, cocoa, with plenty of milk, is recommended as wholesome and economical.
It has been observed by an able writer, that some people think that to live well means only to eat, and, it might be added, to drink. To hear that a man can enjoy the pleasures of the table, who refrains from wine and beer, and whose only beverage is water, appears paradoxical. Some go so far as to say that they prefer death to purchasing life on such terms, forgetting that a temporary indulgence at the table for a couple of hours may render them uncomfortable for the remainder of the twenty-four, and that the exciting, overcharging, and thickening of the blood, renders them hypochondriacal and morose, and makes invalids of men who ought to be in the enjoyment of robust health. It is hardly to be expected that nature will deal mercifully with him who has for so many years sinned against her mandates: she will, doubtless, sooner or later reward the crimes oflèse majestécommitted against her high prerogatives.
“Nothing like the simple element dilutesThe food, or gives the chyle so soon to flow.”
Thebon-vivant, from the excited state of his system, is not only more subject to complaints than persons who live temperately, but is more difficult of cure. When overtaken with pain and illness, notwithstanding his stoicism in declaring for a short life and a merry one, no one desires to be restored to health with greater earnestness, or manifests a more ardent clinging to life than himself.
Priessnitz’s assumption that the indigenous products of the country wherein we reside being best calculated for the support of health, is borne out by Liebig, who says: “Even when we consume equal weights of food in cold and warm countries, infinite wisdom has so arranged that the articles of food of different climates are mostunequal in the proportion of carbon they contain. The fruits on which the natives of the South prefer to feed, do not, in the fresh state, contain more than 12 per cent. of carbon; whilst the bacon and train oil used by the inhabitants of the Arctic regions, contain 66 to 80 per cent. of carbon.”
Avoiding all excess, it is man’s prerogative to elaborate and assimilate the most heterogeneous aliments, not being limited, like other animals, to any particular food; and it is certain that those who approach nearest to nature, who enjoy the benefit of pure air and lead an active life, do not require to observe any particular rules.
One thing, however, is admitted: the duration of life depends upon the simplicity of our wants. Most people eat too much, especially of animal food. No people talk so much of indigestion, dyspepsia, and constipation, as the English; it has been said that they take more pills and aperients, and pay more fees, than all the nations of the world together! What a distinction from savage life! The child of nature, whose only drink is water, can, without inconvenience, go for days together without food, and then commit excesses that, if indulged in in civilised life, would produce fatal results.
It ought to be observed, that abstinence from wine and spices is compensated by the pleasure water-drinkers take in being enabled to partakead libitum, of pastry, fruit, and other delicacies of the table, which wine-drinkers dare not indulge in.
Mr. Priessnitz expects all his patients to leave off wearing flannel or cotton next to the body; he maintains that by keeping up too much heat, they weaken the skin, which then is less efficient in performing its offices, and in consequence people become delicate and diseased.
A patient coming out of the bath, on being prevented putting on his flannel waistcoat and drawers, said, “Tell Mr. Priessnitz, they and I having been intimately acquainted for twenty years, I hardly like parting with them so abruptly.” His reply was, “They are false friends; in a short time your skin will regain the proper tone which they deprived it of, when you will be warmer without flannel than ever you were with it.” Priessnitz does not preach one doctrine and practise another—he wears nothing under his linen. Some patients of a slow circulation, on commencing the treatment, are ordered to wear their flannel waistcoats over their linen for a few days: the want of it is not felt. It might naturally be supposed, that leaving off flannel of a sudden, especially in cold weather, would be attended with serious consequences; but this is never the case in the Water-cure. Invalids frequently arrive at Gräfenberg in the depth of winter, and after the bath, invariably leave off flannel. Of the number of cases that came under my observation, I never knew a single instance of a party catching cold. After the bath, the patient is expected to keep up a brisk walk for some time. In winter, it would be as well, after leaving off flannel, to clothe warmer than usual for a day or two.
Wearing flannel waistcoats in bed of a night is greatly debilitating. An almost universal prejudice exists in favour of flannel in cases of gout and rheumatism; hence the question arises, “Does it prevent or cure those complaints?” Certainly not; for where do you see their victims without flannel? Experience proves, that it neither protects the wearer from disease, nor allays pain.
Nightcaps destroy the hair, cause its premature decay, and have an injurious tendency to those troubled with congestion in the head, head-aches, etc.; such people cannot have their bedrooms too cold. There is much sense in the old adage—“Keep the head cold, and the feet warm.” Previously to sleeping without a nightcap, and washing my head every morning with cold water, I was constantly tormented with cold in the head, from which I am now perfectly free. Perhaps, in some measure, I am indebted to my last visit to Gräfenberg for this happy change, having passed a whole winter there without wearing either hat or neck-cloth, or making any change from my summer clothing, although the thermometer was frequently 12° to 14° Reaumur below zero.
The constant use of oils and pomatums to the hair, unless the head is often washed, closes the pores, and is prejudicial.
With respect to the clothing, Priessnitz advises “when in an open carriage, or sitting still, the body should be well clothed; when in exercise, as lightly covered as possible.”
One half the cases of consumption in females may be traced to the wearing of stays, and lacing them too tight. All artists agree, that stays in growing people destroy, rather than improve, the figure. Bound up in whalebone, they lose that graceful undulation of the back which is so pleasing. Every one who has seen the Venus de Medicis, Canova’s Venus, or any other faithful copy of nature, must consider a very small waist a defect.
Stays, at best, are unwholesome, as they keep up an unnatural heat about the body; and when laced too tight, are sure to be attended with serious consequences. I have known several young ladies, whose teeth were destroyed, whose breaths were intolerable, and who were consigned to a premature grave, entirely from tight lacing. To have health, the greatest of all blessings, the complicated machinery inside our bodies must have room for action (the intestinal canal, for instance, is half as thick as a man’s arm, and sixty or seventy yards long); contract this space, you contract the vessels, and irregularity of the functions ensues. This is an offence against nature, which sooner or later she will repay with misery and pain.
Dr. Abernethy advised air baths, that is, the habit of exposing the body naked to the air, which may be done with impunity after the cold bath, but not otherwise. In winter, instead of increasing the amount of clothing, Priessnitz advises exercise; for, in proportion as the body is warmly clothed, and the air excluded, the less warmth is produced by the body itself; resistance to cold causes the body to bring forth its own energiesand powers. There can be no doubt the feet are much warmer, and that it is much healthier, to go without stockings; it necessitates washing the feet oftener, which, if done in cold water, tends to bring warmth to them. The Turks owe much of their health to their habit of washing their feet. Before going to Gräfenberg, people destitute of shoes and stockings excited my pity; but since that time, my opinion is changed: let such persons be well fed, but for health keep their feet bare. The following extracts from Liebig support Priessnitz’s opinion:—
“Our clothing is merely an equivalent for a certain amount of food. The more we are clothed, the less urgent becomes the appetite for food; because the loss of heat by cooling, and consequently the amount of heat to be supplied by the food, is diminished.
“If we were to go naked, like certain savage tribes; or if in hunting or fishing, we were exposed to the same degree of cold as the Samoyedes, we should be able with ease to consume ten pounds of flesh, and perhaps a dozen of tallow candles into the bargain, daily; as warm-clad travellers have related with astonishment of those people.”
“The Englishman, in Jamaica, feels with regret the disappearance of his appetite, previously a source of frequently recurring enjoyment. And he succeeds by the use of cayenne pepper and the most powerful stimulants, in enabling himself to take as much food as he was accustomed to eat at home. But the whole of the carbon thus introduced into the system is not consumed; the temperature of the air is too high, and the oppressive heat does not allow him to increase the number of respirations by active exercise, and thus to proportion the waste to the amount of food taken; disease of some kind, therefore, ensues.”
“The cooling of the body, by whatever cause it may be produced, increases the amount of food necessary, the mere exposure to the open air, in a carriage or on the deck of a ship, by increasing radiation and evaporation, increases the loss of heat and compels us to eat more than usual. The same is true of those who are accustomed todrink large quantities of water, which is given off at a temperature of the body 98°. It increases the appetite; and persons of weak constitution find it necessary, by continued exercise, to supply to the system the oxygen required to restore the heat abstracted by the coldwater. Loud and long continued speaking, the crying of infants, and moist air, all exert a decided and appreciable influence on the amount of food which is taken.”—Liebig.
“No isolated fact,” says Dr. Johnson, “can contravene the law that the quantity of food is regulated by the number of respirations, by the temperature of the air, and by the amount of heat given off to the surrounding medium, as for instance by frequent bathing. Of course it is a matter of indifference whether that medium be cold air or cold water.”
As a healthy naked body generates by heightened perspiration of the skin, the same warmth as is produced by one which is covered, by means of retaining the perspiration; so every one who is quite well, might by use become so hardened, that during the coldest season he might feel, when naked, as comfortable as any one covered with wool. The truth of this was verified by two English gentlemen, the winter I spent at Gräfenberg. One day in December, when the thermometer was at 6°, of Reaumur, below zero, they proceeded to a mountain, took off all their clothes, except their drawers, and proceeded to the top, where, though the wind was blowing strong at the time, they remained two hours. They stated that after they had walked briskly, or got up the steam for ten minutes, a glow of heat came on, which counteracting the cold, produced the most agreeable sensation. Neither of these gentlemen caught cold or suffered in any way from this experiment.
The Scotch Highlander with his naked legs, does not feel colder, surrounded by mountains of ice, than we do who are clothed. We prove this by our bare faces in the coldest winter.
As the skin performs the double function, of drawing nourishment from the air, and exhaling the phlogisticised air of the diseased matter and worn-out atoms of the body, it follows that the true art of curing, must be to endeavour to restore these two functions. Hydropathy causes the ejection of diseased matter and revives the activity of the skin.
Dr. Johnson observes, “Discomforts are the necessary whips and spurs which keep the living energies awake; whilst comforts operate upon us like opiates: since to acquire a ‘comfort’ is only to remove a discomfort; and to remove what keeps us awake, is the same thing as to administer what will send us to sleep. The indulgences, therefore, wherewith even youngand healthy men indulge themselves; the ‘comforts,’ as they call them, of flannel, warm clothing, closed doors, carpeted rooms, soft beds, hot food, are infinitely worse than absurd; because the opposites of all these luxuries, so far from being injurious to health, are absolutelynecessaryto it. We actually kill ourselves with comforts.”
“Thus with our hellish drugs, Death’s ceaseless fountainsIn these bright vales, o’er these green mountainsWorse than the very plague we raged.I have myself to thousands poison given,And hear their murderer praised as blest by heaven,Because with Nature strife he waged.”Göethe’s Faust.
The influence of habit and custom is such, that it is difficult to arouse inquiry, when the result is calculated to derange the existing order of things. Mr. D’Israeli observes, “Could we conceive that man had never discovered the practice of washing his hands, but cleansed them as animals do their paws, he would for certain have ridiculed and protested against the inventor of soap, and as tardily, as in other matters, have adopted the invention.”
All change, however beneficial, is attended with trouble; and we therefore adopt the motto, “Whatever is, is right.” This very motto is the key to our method of cure—as it is to that of every other great moral truth. Yet, to quote the words of Rausse, “We do not take this in the sense of the philosophy of our days, or in that of the German philosopher, Hegel, for then we must consider falsehood and assassination to be good. Rather would we take these words in the sense in which they were first proclaimed by the philosophy of Geneva, in the sense in which thefirst citizenused them for the foundation of his truths; thus, that which is produced by nature is good; all inclinations, all impulses of men derived from nature, are good; and every mis-usage of nature is an outrage which she punishes with misery and pain. All the principles of the art of curing at Gräfenberg, attested as they are by thousands, are dictated by that instinct which nature has given to every human being as his inheritance.”
But are not all the cures performed at Gräfenberg—all the doctrines of Hydropathy—opposed to science? It may be answered, Yes; nor can we shut our eyes to the fact, that nature refuses all respect for what we are pleased to denominate learning—nay, tramples upon what is often called science: particularly on that of medicine. By what delusions were mankind first persuaded to submit to the use of poisonous drugs! In the middle ages, water as a beverage, and as a cure for disease, fell into total disuse. In the time of the Crusades, the Arab doctors introduced the use of Oriental drugs, to which they attributed miraculous virtues; and during the period of astrology and alchemy, and when researches were being made for the philosopher’s stone, almost every nation boasted of having found some panacea—some elixir vitæ: sometimes it was an oil or an herb; at others, a powder or mineral; until, in process of time, their accumulation formed the vaunted science of medicine. But, we would inquire, are the effects of these compounds such as to lead to the conclusion that they were recommended by nature? Have mankind become healthier since their introduction? Are those nations who have done most homage to this science, the strongest and soundest?
To think of eradicating disease with poisons, of which physic is generally composed, appears paradoxical. How is it possible to bring physic to bear upon the dispersed and deeply-hidden diseased matter? Even if this could be done, it is quite impossible, as every chemist knows, for the peccant matters and physic to dissolve each other into nothing.
Dr. Forbes, editor of the “British and Foreign Medical Review,” supports this view of the case. He observes, “It is one of the most formidable difficulties with which the ordinary physician has to contend, that nearly all his remedies reach the point to which they are directed, through one channel. If the brain requires to be placed under the influence of a sedative or a stimulant, if the muscular system demands invigorating by tonics, if the functions of organic life need correction by alteratives, the physician has no means of attaining his object except by inundating the stomach and bowels with foreign and frequently pernicious substances. It being thus made the medical doorway to all parts of the system, and so compelled to admit every description of therapeuticalappliances, the organ of digestion is contorted to a purpose for which it was never intended.”
“The consequence,” says Dr. Arbuthnot, “of such treatment with physic is, that to the old evil a new stimulus is added, weak or strong, according to the dose and quality: what is inflammable, stays in the blood, and afterwards affects the brain.”
We may fairly ask, How can any of these consequences result from Hydropathy? The following lines of Horace Smith are not far from the truth:—
“Physic! a freak of times and modes,Which yearly old mistakes explodesFor new ones still absurder.All slay,—their victims disappear,And only leaves the doctrine clearThat killing is no murder.”
Are those who do most to aid the apothecaries, and who indulge in alcoholic drinks, healthier than others; or, are those who are in the habit of consulting doctors free from pain? No! they drag on a miserable existence. It might be asked, If certain herbs and minerals were alone intended for healing man’s infirmities, how would the inhabitants of the temperate zone procure those that are indigenous to the tropics, andvice versâ? Instinct pleads in favour of the element that abounds wherever human beings ought to live; and innumerable instances might be adduced of the advantage which the use of water gives the savage over cultivated man.
From the most remote ages, water was known and resorted to as a curative agent by the unsophisticated children of nature. In the wilds of America, the savage is put into a close hut, built of stones, which hut is heated to produce intense perspiration on the invalid, in which state he is immersed in the river, near to which the hut is generally placed; and by Pallme’s travels in Kordofan, we find that, in the very depths of Africa, fevers are cured by cold water. It appears our traveller lay several days in bed with burning fever, when, at length, his attendants lifted him out of bed, placed him with his back against the door, and poured a large volume of cold water on his head and body. After the shock he was put to bed, covered with sacks and sheepskins: this produced reliefand sleep. A second application of this treatment effected a cure.
Some writers err in supposing mankind to have arrived at an age of decrepitude, from its not occurring to them that the deterioration of health arises from art, and not nature. If you wish to be convinced of this, leave civilised and go to savage life. There you will see the man of nature as young and strong as the first created; the generation cannot grow old, except by art, poison, or vice. Prescribe simple water, and it is rejected with scorn; but let any quack recommend his drugs, however poisonous, and they are swallowed regardless of results. It must have been the enemy of all good who first persuaded mankind that poison could produce health.
The evils that arise from pernicious drugs, which have swept away millions, and which will destroy the whole species if no reform takes place, originate in misunderstanding the first or acute attack, which is but an attempt of nature to heal. Men take acute attacks for disease, whilstin reality they are the means by which the system is relieved of disease. Bleeding, blistering, cupping, and drugging, subdue these efforts,—not by emancipating the system, but by so reducing it that it can no longer contend with its enemy. Men praised the unlucky discovery, and hence a host of deadly diseases took their origin, such as destructions and suppurations of the inner organs, dropsy, etc.: complaints which were hardly known in times of yore, and which, but for these causes, would never have reared their heads. However, as the lamentable consequences in some cases do not appear until years after the suppression of the acute conflict, no one thinks of attributing them to drugs. This drug-plague is the most dreadful malady mankind has to contend with; dug by themselves from the black abysses of the earth, it has been cherished as the effect of deep science for centuries; how frequently has the last shilling been offered up at its altar! Upon it as many millions have been spent as would pay off the National Debt: to the study of these dangerous errors, millions of men have applied the whole of their lives and their ability: backed by this so-called science, they contend against nature; buthowdoes Nature punish those who wish to master her? Oh, great unspeakable Nature! how dreadfully beautiful art thou, in thy inexorable and destroying severity!
Mankind may still turn back, and regenerate health; but it is not sufficient for them to renounce physic: they must abandon wine, spirits, and poison, in every shape. For the curing of disease, we must not look into the grey mysteries of the future, but far behind us, on the green plain of Nature, and of the times which are past.
The preservation of life requires not only that its consumption should be reduced, but its restoration rendered more easy. For this purpose two things are necessary, the perfect assimilation of that which is beneficial, the separation from that which is injurious. Life, as will be seen from the following definition, depends upon the identification, the assimilation, and the animalisation of external matter by the vital power, in its passage from the chemical to the organic world.
The power of assimilating other substances into itself is the fundamental principle of nature. This impulse and power is not only prevalent in all organic matter, but also in elemental bodies, that is to say, water, earth, and fire. The globe in the beginning was a rigid rock, upon which air and water effected their power of assimilation.
Assimilation is only possible by dissolving. For the purpose of assimilation, air and water dissolved the earth’s crust; by the agency of those powers that surface originated which produces and nourishes all organic bodies. As these exist in the same world in which the elements continually exercise their power of dissolving and assimilating, it follows, that from the beginning there must have been developed in all organic elements the same power, as a protection to themselves.
Air dissolves water into vapours, in order to assimilate gases from it. Water extracts from air the oxygen gas.
Fire absorbs the oxygen of air, dissolves water into its two component parts, hydrogen and oxygen, and by converting the former to a flame, transforms water to fire; air absorbs many gases which fire releases from combustibles; air draws gases from the soil, the soil absorbs the oxygen of the air. In this way the elements are in a constant conflict, each endeavouring to dissolve the other, and to assimilate its matters with itself. Organic bodies draw oxygen from the air by the processof respiration, which is also the property of plants: these draw all assimilatory matter which the earth offers by their roots. The same process is performed by animals feeding on plants or herbs; whereas, on the contrary, fire resolves all organic matter into its original elements. This same process is carried out by water and air, with all organic beings, but as long as these are living they only get their evaporation, and after death their entirety. The earth exercises this power but conditionally and partially, viz. upon all animals that exist in it, and on all roots of plants; upon mankind the earth only exercises its power of assimilation after death. The proofs of this conflict of assimilation in organic matter itself are clear, one animal eats the other as well as plants; that is to say, it absorbs by the agency of the stomach so much of their substance as may be assimilated. Plants again convert parts of dead bodies and other plants (the manure) into their own substance.
Besides this power of assimilation, there exists in every being, element and organisation, the necessity of being exposed to foreign assimilation.
This is the fundamental principle of the true doctrine of healing. In support of this theory, we find that water, if withdrawn from the power of dissolution by the fresh air, stinks and putrefies. Air loses its oxygen and becomes mephitic, if it does not find water or plants with which it can enter into the conflict of dissolution and assimilation.
Animals and plants fall ill and die if their surface is so covered that neither air nor water can act upon them. If nourishment is withdrawn from any organic being, that is to say, if it is deprived of the opportunity of assimilating with external or foreign substances, death is caused by the want of a supply of healthy juices; if, on the contrary, this being is deprived of the influence or effect of this foreign power of dissolution, illness is the consequence, arising from the putridity of matter, from which putridity the system ought to have been released by the agency of foreign assimilation.