Chapter II: Part 2

In support of the view taken by Dr. Barter, we would observe, that narrow and contracted lungs, an impure atmosphere, uncleanly habits, sedentary occupation, indulgence in alcoholic liquors, and over eating, all directly tend to the overloading of the blood with carbon, and they are also the most constant causes of consumption. But the success attending this treatment is the argument which will have most weight with the public, and cause its adoption by the profession at large. When this takes place we shall not have consumptive patients sent abroad to seek restoration of their health—

“To Nice, where more native persons die of consumption than in any
English town of equal population—to Madeira, where no local disease
is more prevalent than consumption—to Malta, where one-third of the
deaths amongst our troops are caused by consumption—to Naples,
whose hospitals record a mortality, from consumption, of one in two
and one-third of the patients—nor, finally, to Florence, where
pneumonia is said to be marked by a suffocating character, and a
rapid progress towards its final stage. Sir James Clarke has
assailed with much force the doctrine, that change of climate is
beneficial in cases of consumption. M. Carriere, a French
physician, has written strongly against it. Dr. Burgess, an eminent
Scotch physician, also contends that climate has little or nothing
to do with the cure of consumption, and that if it had, the
curative effects would be produced through the skin and not the
lungs, by opening the pores, and promoting a better aeration of the
blood.”

With respect to the administering of prussic acid, to lower the pulse in consumption, we cannot TOO STRONGLY reprobate this mistaken practice. Do physicians, when prescribing this poison, ever reflect that this elevation of the pulse, which they employ themselves so sedulously to lower, is an effort of nature to supply more oxygen to the system by an increased action of the lungs, and that the more the lungs are injured by disease, the greater is this compensating effort of nature: just as a blacksmith must work a small or defective bellows more rapidly than a large one, to keep his fire going. If this be the case, the destructive effects of prussic acid will at once be evident, since by it all the powers of the system become reduced, and nature’s efforts at self-relief most mischievously obstructed. The feverish action of the pulse is, in itself, of no moment; it is only as a symptom of derangement in the system that it becomes alarming; it is nature telling us that something is wrong by the very action which she is establishing to cure it. What then must be thought of a practice which silences the tell-tale pulse, stops the voice of nature, and checks her curative efforts, without attempting to cure the disorder; doing immense mischief, whilst it effects no good? The fact is, the only reduction of the pulse which is worth a farthing, is that which follows naturally from removing the cause of its elevation, viz., a want of oxygen in the system. That the supplying of this want has the effect of lowering the consumptive pulse, without the assistance of prussic acid, is abundantly proved by the rapid fall of the pulse produced by the Turkish bath,—a result most satisfactory to the physiologist, as evidencing the soundness of the theory which prescribes it as a remedy.

Having referred to the erroneous practice of swathing consumptive patients in flannel, it may not be out of place here to make a few observations on the origin of caloric in the animal system, and the office of clothing in relation to it.

The only true source of caloric in animals, is that produced by the chemical combination of oxygen with the carbon and other oxidizable products of their system. Every cause which quickens and exalts this chemical action increases the animal heat, whilst every interfering cause produces cold and chilliness. It is in this way that drinking cold water, or taking exercise in the open air, increases the warmth of the body, by producing a healthy [13] waste of the system, and so stimulating the chemical combustion within it. Clothing, it should be recollected, has merely the effect of retaining animal heat and preventing its dissipation, but it cannot, in the slightest degree, create it: if, therefore, any thing occurs to interfere with that action, by which heat can alone be generated, all the clothes in the world will fail to warm us. How little these facts are reflected on, is shown by the excessive and injurious amount of clothing worn by delicate persons, which defeats the very object they are intended to effect. These facts also explain the apparent paradox of patients who, previous to undergoing the water system, complain of chilliness when smothered with clothing, but who afterwards are enabled to wear very light clothing, without any feeling of their former chilliness. [14] On this subject Dr. Gully observes:—

“Should, however, the reader desire to learn the most effectual way
of destroying the power of generating animal heat, let him pursue
the plan which so many shivering patients who come to Malvern have
followed. Let him drink spirits and wine, eat condiments, swallow
purgatives, and especially mercurials, take a ‘course of iodine,’
and, as an occasional interlude, lose a little blood, and we stake
our reputation that he will shiver to his heart’s content, and find
himself many degrees lower in the scale of Fahrenheit than cold
water, cool air, early rising, and exercise can possibly make him.”

Before leaving this subject, we would entreat our readers seriously to consider the observations we have addressed to them, and the facts which we have adduced in support of the mode of treatment which we have advocated. The subject is one of serious moment, since, on this disease being rightly understood, the lives of millions of our countrymen depend. If a rational mode of treatment be adopted, its fearful ravages may be successfully encountered and stayed, but if not, the gaunt spectre will stalk as hitherto, unchecked through the length and breadth of our island, dealing death to millions of its sons.

With regard to water drinking, an important part of the Hydropathic process, and against which much prejudice exists, the following extracts from the pen of the justly celebrated Allopathic physician, Sir Henry Holland, will not, we hope, be considered out of place. In his work styled “Medical Notes and Reflections,” treating of “Diluents,” he thus writes:

“Though there may seem little reason for considering these as a
separate class of remedies, yet I doubt whether the principles of
treatment implied in the name is sufficiently regarded in modern
practice. On the Continent, indeed, the use of diluents is much
more extensive than in England; and, under the form of mineral
waters especially, makes up in some countries a considerable part
of general practice. But putting aside all question as to mineral
ingredients in water, the consideration more expressly occurs, to
what extent and with what effects this great diluent, the only one
which really concerns the animal economy, may be introduced into
the system as a remedy? Looking at the definite proportion which,
in a healthy state, exists in all parts of the body between the
aqueous, saline, and animal ingredients—at the various organs
destined, directly or indirectly, to regulate the proportion—and at
the morbid results, occurring whenever it is materially altered—we
must admit the question as one very important in the animal
economy, and having various relation to the causes and treatment of
disease. Keeping in mind then this reference to the use of water as
an internal remedy, diluents may be viewed under three conditions
of probable usefulness:—First, the mere mechanical effect of
quantity of liquid in diluting and washing away matters,
excrementitious or noxious, from the alimentary canal;—secondly,
their influence in modifying certain morbid conditions of the
blood;—and thirdly, their effect upon various functions of
secretion and excretion, and especially upon those of the kidneys
and skin * * * The first is an obvious benefit in many cases, and
not to be disdained from any notion of its vulgar simplicity. It is
certain there are many states of the alimentary canal in which the
free use of water at stated times produces good, which cannot be
attained by other or stronger remedies. I have often known the
action of the bowels to be maintained with regularity for a long
period, simply by a tumbler of water, warm or cold, on an empty
stomach, in cases where medicine had almost lost its effect, or
become a source only of distressing irritation. The advantage of
such treatment is still more strongly attested, where the
secretions taking place into the intestines, or the products formed
there during digestion, become vitiated in kind. Here dilution
lessens that irritation to the membranes, which we cannot so
readily obviate by other means, and aids in removing the cause from
the body with less distress than any other remedy. In some cases,
where often and largely used, its effect goes farther in actually
altering the state of the secreting surfaces by direct application
to them. I mention these circumstances upon experience, having
often obtained much good from resorting to them in practice, when
stronger medicines and ordinary methods had proved of little avail.
Dilution thus used, for example, so as to act on the contents of
the bowels, is beneficial in many dyspeptic cases, where it is
especially an object to avoid needless irritation to the system.
Half-a-pint or more of water taken when fasting, at the temperature
most agreeable to the patient, will often be found to give singular
relief to his morbid sensations. * * * In reference to the
foregoing uses of diluents, it is to be kept in mind that the
lining of the alimentary canal is, to all intents, a surface, as
well as the skin, pretty nearly equal in extent; exercising some
similar functions, with others more appropriate to itself, and
capable in many respects of being acted upon in a similar manner.
As respects the subject before us, it is both expedient and correct
in many cases to regard diluents as acting on this internal surface
analogously to liquids on the skin. And I would apply this remark
not only to the mechanical effects of the remedy, but also to their
use as the medium for conveying cold to internal parts; a point of
practice which either the simplicity of the means, or the false
alarms besetting it, have hitherto prevented from being duly
regarded.”

Again he writes:—

“Without reference, however, to these extreme cases, it must be
repeated, that the use of water, simply as a diluent, scarcely
receives attention and discrimination enough in our English
practice.”

And again:—

“As I have been treating of this remedy only in its simplest form,
I do not advert to the use of the different mineral waters farther
than to state, that they confirm these general views, separating,
as far as can be done, their effect as diluents from that of the
ingredients they contain. The copious employment of some of them in
Continental practice gives room for observation, which is wanting
under our more limited use. I have often seen five or six pints
taken daily for some weeks together (a great part of it in the
morning while fasting), with singular benefit in many cases to the
general health, and most obviously to the state of the secretions.
* * * These courses, however, were always conjoined with ample
exercise and regular habits of life; doubtless influencing much the
action of the waters, and aiding their salutary effect.”

With this quotation we take leave of Sir Henry Holland, merely observing, that no Hydropathist could say more on the subject than he has done, and that the Continental practice referred to, of drinking large quantities of water, conjoined with ample exercise and regular habits of life, is precisely that practice which Hydropathy enjoins.

Sir John Forbes, a physician already quoted, says, on water drinking—

“The water cure is a stomachic, since it invariably increases the
appetite.”

Dr. Pereira states—

“It is a vital stimulus, and is more essential to our existence
than aliment.”

Liebig, the celebrated physiological chemist, bears similar testimony, viz.—“It increases the appetite.”

Are these effects consistent with lowering the tone of the stomach? are they not, on the contrary, the strongest evidence of the TONIC effects of water?

Some objectors say, “water drinking thins the blood.” After demolishing these objections by arguments which we regret we have not space to quote, Dr. Gully concludes his observations as follows;—

“But the whole assertion regarding thin blood proceeds on grounds
that betray intense ignorance, both of physiology and of the water
cure. It supposes that the whole water imbibed enters into, and
remains in the circulating blood, quasi water, that no chemical
transformation of it takes place in the body at all: this is
ignorance of physiology. And it supposes that ALL who are treated
by water are told to drink the same, and that a large quantity,
without discrimination of the individual cases of disease
presented: this is ignorance of the water cure. So between the
horns of this compound ignorance, and of wilful misrepresentation,
we leave the declaimers about the ‘thinning of the blood.’”

It is a curious fact that in all the medical works which treat of anaemia, or bloodlessness, “allusion is never once made to water-drinking as a known cause—not even to the possibility of its being a cause of it.”

In so flagrant a case of thin blood, why has this principal cause been omitted? It is further curious that this injurious effect of water was never invented, much less preached, until Hydropathy was found to be making inconvenient strides in public favour.

Is the reader aware that eighty per cent. of water enters into the composition of healthy blood, without making any allowance for the enormous quantity required for the various secretions?

Granting, however, for the sake of argument, that all, and more than these objectors urge, were true, we still have a kind of feeling that water is more congenial to the system than prussic acid, or even iodine. But we may be wrong.

Perhaps there is no disease which would appear, at first sight, so little suited for Hydropathic treatment as cholera; [15] that disease for the successful treatment of which we have been hitherto accustomed to consider stimulants and hot applications of all kinds as indispensably necessary, and yet there is no disease, in the treatment of which Hydropathy has been more successful.

The principles of its treatment, by the water system, are so sensibly and rationally put forward in the pamphlet entitled, “An Address, &c.,” that, as we think, the greatest sceptic must be convinced of the truth of the doctrines it propounds, we strongly recommend its perusal to our readers. Of the many cases treated by the author, ALL, we are told, recovered, whilst not a single instance of secondary fever—the invariable accompaniment of the Allopathic treatment, and only secondary in danger to the disease itself—occurred. The necessary prevalence of this secondary fever in the one case, and its absence in the other, are beautifully explained, on natural principles, at pages 9 and 10. Though the pamphlet in question is anonymous, and the author has taken some pains to explain his reason for concealing his name, yet he has unwittingly betrayed his identity in the following extract from a letter from Lieut.-Colonel Cummins, C.M., who, having tried the system as an amateur, in America, thus writes of it:—

“Tell Barter that his system has lately become the universal
practice in the Southern States, for cholera; and since its
adoption, although it is, of course, but imperfectly carried out,
the mortality is not one-fourth.

“I never saw cholera of so frightful a character; that at Quebec,
which you recollect was so near doing for me, was nothing to it;
the violence of the spasms was such that blood oozed out through
all the pores of the skin, especially with the niggers. It did not
give the slightest warning; the men often fell while at work, and
before four hours were dead.”

The following statement, extracted from a letter written by Mr. James Morgan of Cork, and which appeared in the Limerick Chronicle, 4th April, 1849, affords a remarkable instance of the beneficial effects of fresh air and cold water, so strongly insisted upon by Dr. Barter, and corroborating the practice which, on theoretical grounds, he recommends:

“In a temporary cholera hospital at Gloucester, there were sixteen
patients, one of whom was an interesting young female, between
fifteen and sixteen years of age, for whose recovery the attending
physician (Dr. Shute) was most anxious. On leaving the hospital in
the evening, the girl was in collapse, and quite blue; he called
the nursetender, and bade her be attentive to her, and give her
whatever she may call for, as all hopes had vanished. In the course
of the night the nurse went to increase the fire which was near the
girl’s berth in the ward; but she begged the woman not to do so, as
she was almost suffocated, and, at the same time, asked for a
drink. The nurse brought her a bowl of tea, which was rejected, but
she requested water. Remembering the doctor’s directions, the
nurse, not without some reluctance and apprehension, brought her a
pint mug full of water, which she drank with avidity; and continued
to call for water about every five minutes, until she had taken two
gallons of it; when she fell into a profound sleep, in which she
was found by the doctor in the morning, when her natural complexion
reappeared, and she was, to his astonishment, in a state of
convalescence. Having with amazement elevated his eyes, exclaiming,
‘this is something like a miracle!’ he called the nursetender, who
related what had taken place; and perceiving the window open over
the patient’s berth, he asked why it was not shut? and was told by
the attendant, that it was left open at the earnest desire of the
girl. The doctor immediately ordered all the windows of the ward to
be opened, the heavy bed covering on the patients to be removed,
and replaced by light rugs; directed that no drink should be given
but cold water, and the result was, that the whole sixteen persons
were cured of cholera; one, however, died of consecutive fever,
produced by eating too much chicken and drinking too much broth
whilst convalescent. The case was reported to the Government Board
of Health, then sitting in London; and similar treatment was
pursued by all the medical men in and about Gloucester with the
most complete success. The report, names of the doctors, and all
the correspondence are minutely detailed in the columns of the
Chronicle in the year 1832.

“Need more be offered upon the subject; and yet with such facts
upon record, ‘hot punch’ is now given to the poor patients in the
cholera hospitals in Limerick. Those pious and angelic Sisters of
Mercy, to whom you have alluded in the Chronicle, never, in all
probability, heard or read of the treatment of cholera as above
narrated; but ever attentive and observant as they are in the
performance of their hallowed vocation, they have not been
unmindful of the good effects of cold water. Nature prompts the
sufferer to call for it, and it should be always supplied. In
cholera, pure water is balsamic.

“As to the operation of cold water on the human system in cholera,
or the action of the system on water, I will not presume to
pronounce; but I may say that it is commonly supposed that when the
serum (one of the important constituents of the blood) is exhausted
by discharges, collapse takes place, and the livid hue of the
countenance follows; and everybody has heard of the experimental
operation of transfusion of warm water, combined with albumen and
soda, into the veins, to supply the absence of serum, in order to
give the vital current its natural and healthy flow: whether cold
water, from the oxygen it contains, and the necessary heat it is
therefore calculated to impart, is taken up rapidly by the
absorbents to cherish and feed the blood, and fill the channels of
circulation, so as to remove collapse in cholera, I shall leave
physiologists to determine; but it is indisputable that cholera
patients have anxiously asked for, and eagerly swallowed, copious
draughts of cold water, till their thirst was allayed, genial
warmth restored, agony banished, and the vital functions vivified
and invigorated.” * * * * *

The following extract is taken from Braithnorth’s “Retrospect of Medicine,” a standard professional work:—

“I am acquainted with three persons, who, after they had been laid
out for dead, on being washed, previous to interment, in the open
court-yard, with water, to obtain which the ice had been broken,
recovered in consequence, and lived many years. I received from
Erycroon, in Turkey, a letter from our excellent Consul, Mr. Brant,
who states that Dr. Dixon, of that place, was then curing more
patients by friction, with ice or snow, than any other treatment.
The same practice is reported to have been the most effectual in
Russia.”

We make no comments on the foregoing, leaving the public to draw their own conclusions from the facts stated. In setting the facts before them, we feel we have done our duty; we leave the leaven to work in their minds, and produce its own result on their future conduct.

In condemning the mistaken administration of hot stimulants, such as “hot punch,” &c., Dr. Barter proceeds:—

“I never yet saw a patient that did not cry out for cold water; and
the confirmed dram-drinker can, with difficulty, be persuaded to
taste his favourite beverage; he objects more to brandy or punch
than the temperate do; this I have often remarked. I have seen a
patient travel for miles on an open car, through sleet and rain,
without any covering, and drinking cold water on the way, and
remarked that he did better than when treated with brandy, hot
tins, &c. In fact, I often saw such patients beg to be allowed out
again, they used to call loudly for cold water. ‘For the love and
honour of God, sir, get us a drink of cold water,’ was no
unfrequent request amongst them, and that pronounced with an
earnestness of manner most truly impressive; but, alas! in 1832,
this appeal was always refused, though in 1849 a step has been
taken in a right direction, and it is allowed, according to the
Sisters of Mercy, ‘in small quantities.’”

The truth will ere long be acknowledged, that it is our mode of life that makes us fit subjects for cholera, and that it is our mode of treating it alone, which makes the disease so dangerous. The wretch who is cast uncared for in a ditch, exposed to all the inclemency of the weather, with water alone to quench his burning thirst, has ten chances to one in favour of his recovery, compared with the well-cared patient who is dosed with brandy and the favourite specifics of the apothecary’s shop. If we look at cholera, and divest our minds of its accustomed mode of treatment, we will find that every symptom of the disease points to the presence of some highly irritant poison in the blood; and in the effort to expel this poison, the serum which contains it, is drained from the system. What, therefore, can be more rational than to supply the system with the materials of restoration, by giving water in large quantities, and to stimulate its chemical combinations by which the caloric of the system shall be restored, by the influence of fresh air, water drinking, and cold bathing.

Sir Bulwer Lytton thus sums up his impressions of Hydropathy:—

“Those cases in which the water-cure seems an absolute panacea, and
in which the patient may commence with the most sanguine hopes,
are—first, rheumatism, however prolonged, however complicated. In
this the cure is usually rapid—nearly always permanent. [16]
Secondly, gout: here its efficacy is little less startling to
appearance than in the former case; it seems to take up the disease
by the roots; it extracts the peculiar acid which often appears in
discolorations upon the sheets used in the application, or is
ejected in other modes. But here, judging always from cases
subjected to my personal knowledge, I have not seen instances to
justify the assertion that returns of the disease do not occur. The
predisposition—the tendency, has appeared to remain; the patient is
liable to relapses, but I have invariably found them far less
frequent, less lengthened, and readily susceptible of simple and
speedy cure, especially if the habits remain temperate.”

If it be asked why Hydropathy has proved itself so effective a remedy in curing rheumatism, we would answer, on account of its great power in strengthening and invigorating the stomach and digestive organs, in the derangement of which, the cause of that disease is to be found. Rheumatism proceeds from a sluggish circulation in the extremities, consequent on a low vitality in the system, arising from a derangement of the digestive organs and viscera; if these latter were sound and free from irritation, all the cold and wet, we could possibly be exposed to, would fail to produce that inflammation of the sheaths of the muscles in which rheumatism consists. That Hydropathy is capable of strengthening and invigorating these organs, is well known to all who have tried it, and is even admitted by its greatest opponents when they state, “Oh! it is good for the general health,” for it is utterly impossible for the “general health” to be good without a sound digestion.

With respect to gout, a permanent cure from it is rarely to be found, and why?—Because few people have either the time or patience to continue long enough under treatment for its total eradication, running away from an “establishment” the moment they get relief from the pressing fit, and consequently the disease recurs. Now, of all diseases, gout is perhaps the most tedious of permanent cure, the visceral irritation which gives rise to it being always inveterate and of long duration, and nothing short of chronic treatment—treatment continuing for years instead of months, will remove it. Dr. Gully observes respecting it:—

“It would be folly, however, to avoid a treatment because it will
not for ever root up your disease in your own convenient time. Look
at the destructive manner in which colchicum reduces a gouty fit,
how it approximates the attacks, and utterly disorganizes the
viscera; and then regard what the water cure is capable of doing,
both against individual attacks, and in reduction of the diathesis,
the vital parts meanwhile improving under its operation; ... if it
does not utterly cure the gout, at least it does not shorten the
patient’s life as colchicum does.”

On the effects of colchicum he, further on, observes:—

“To the patient, and, indeed, to the physician who knows little of
physiology, all this will appear right: the gout is removed, and
that is what was desired. The physician, however, who is a
physiologist, will say, ‘True, that irritation which you call gout,
has left the extremities, whither it had been sent by nature to
save her noble internal parts. But look to the signs exhibited by
those parts; are they not those of augmented irritation, at least
of irritation of a degree and kind that did not exist so long as
the limbs were pained and inflamed? The fact is, that your
colchicum has set up in the viscera so intense an irritation as to
reconcentrate the mischief within; and the fit is cured, not by
ridding the body of the gouty irritation, but by driving or drawing
it in again,’ (thus baffling nature’s efforts at self relief).
‘Hence the continuance of the dyspeptic symptoms after the fit;
hence, as you will find, the recurrence of another fit ere long,
the intervals becoming less and less, until gouty pain is
incessantly in the limbs, and gouty irritation always in the
viscera.’”

When the drugging practitioner drives the inflammation from the extremities to a more dangerous internal position, he congratulates himself on having cured the gout; but what in reality has he done?—By his mischievous interference with nature, he has endangered his patient’s life and shaken his constitution; whilst the gouty irritation, which causes the complaint, remains unsubdued, ready to be transferred at a moment to the head or heart, the practitioner having cleverly banished it from its original harmless position. It is in this way also that the Allopathist cures skin diseases, driving in the irritation which nature is struggling to drive out; this he eventually succeeds in doing, by weakening the powers of the system, and then fancies the disease is cured, whilst the patient pays in the long run for these hostile operations against nature.

But we have interrupted Sir Bulwer Lytton,—he thus proceeds:—

“Thirdly, that wide and grisly family of affliction classed under
the common name of dyspepsia. All derangements of the digestive
organs, imperfect powers of nutrition—the malaise of an injured
stomach, appear precisely the complaints on which the system takes
firmest hold, and in which it effects those cures that convert
existence from a burden into a blessing.

“Hence it follows that many nameless and countless complaints,
proceeding from derangement of the digestive organs, cease as that
great machine is restored to order. I have seen disorders of the
heart which have been pronounced organic by no inferior authorities
of the profession, disappear in an incredibly short time; cases of
incipient consumption, in which the seat is in the nutritious
powers; hæmorrhages, and various congestions, shortness of breath,
habitual fainting fits, many of what are called improperly nervous
complaints, but which in reality are radiations from the main
ganglionic spring: the disorders produced by the abuse of powerful
medicines, especially mercury and iodine; the loss of appetite, the
dulled sense and the shaking hand of intemperance, skin complaints,
and the dire scourge of scrofula;—all these seem to obtain from
Hydropathy relief,—nay, absolute and unqualified cure, beyond not
only the means of the most skilful practitioner, but the hopes of
the most sanguine patient.”

Nor will the above results form at all a subject for wonder, when it is remembered that every natural disease arises either from impurity in the blood or maldistribution of it, and that all the processes of the water cure, from the Turkish bath down to the wet sheet, act powerfully as depurators of the blood and controllers of its circulation,—attracting it here, and repelling it there, at will.

We know not whether the public will prefer the impartial testimony of an intelligent observer like Sir Bulwer Lytton, to that of the Allopathic physician, naturally wedded to his own system and anxious to sustain it against all intruders; but we may observe, that we never yet met a physician opposed to Hydropathy, who did not, on catechising him, exhibit the most absurd ignorance respecting it. Their chronic idea is that of a person being left to shiver in wet sheets; and, as a consequence, their chronic note of warning, accompanied by an ominous shake of the head, consists in, “Don’t attempt the water cure, or it will kill you.” [17] If medical men would but see, before they assert, then much value might be attached to their opinion; but what value can be attached to their opinion about a system which they will not take the trouble of examining into? How many orthodox physicians have ever visited Blarney, or any similar Hydropathic establishment?—The proportion of such visitors (and no one can form a fair idea of the system without seeing it at work), to the whole profession would be more than represented by an infinitesimal fraction.

We wonder how long the public will continue to poison [18] their systems with mercury, colchicum, iodine, and prussic acid, because a physician chooses to tell them that a mode of treatment which he has never investigated “will kill them.”

It may not be uninteresting to observe, that under Hydropathic treatment, chronic disease frequently becomes acute; for, as the body improves in strength, the more acutely will any existing disease develop itself, and for the following reason: pain is caused by an effort of nature to relieve the system of some morbid influence residing in it, and the stronger the constitution, the greater efforts will it make to remove that morbid influence, and therefore the greater will be the pain; but on the other hand, when the body is enfeebled, its efforts to relieve itself, though continual, are weak and inefficient, and the disease remaining in the system, assumes the chronic and less painful form. Now with these facts before them, we have been amused at hearing physicians observe, in their efforts to decry the “Water System,” “Oh it is good for the general health, but nothing more,” a result albeit, which unfortunately the Allopathic system cannot lay claim to. When speaking thus they do not however reflect that they are affording the strongest possible testimony in support of the system which they seek to decry, inasmuch as every physiologist, from Cape Clear to the Giant’s Causeway, admits the principle, that the cure of disease is to be sought for in the powers of the living organism alone; and it must be evident that the more you strengthen that organism, the more you increase its powers to cure itself, and diminish its liability to future disease.

Having trespassed thus far on the attention of our readers, we would conclude by inviting them and the medical profession, generally, to a calm and dispassionate investigation, as far as the opportunities of each allow, of the relative merits of the Allopathic and Hydropathic systems, approaching the investigation, as far as possible, with a mind devoid of prejudice and bigotry. Their duty to themselves and to society demands this inquiry at their hands—two antagonistic (we use the term advisedly) systems are presented for their acceptance—which will they lay hold of? To assist them in determining this point we would recommend for their quiet perusal either or all of the works alluded to in this article, [19] the study of which will be found interesting and profitable. If they conclude that drugs are wholesome, let them by all means be swallowed; but if they are proved to be injurious, deleterious and unnecessary, then away with them;—if opiates are innocuous let them be retained, but if they congest the liver, sicken the stomach, and paralyze the actions of the vital organs, the sooner they are erased for ever from the Hygienic Pharmacopeia the better—let them gracefully retire before the improved system of hot stupes, fomentations, and the abdominal compress.

The very simplicity of the processes of the “water-cure,” which people cannot believe capable of producing the effects ascribed to them, combined with a belief, ingrained by long habit, in the absolute necessity for drugs in curing disease, have chiefly militated against a more extended reception of Hydropathy by the lay public; but when they reflect that ALL the powers of the medical art range themselves under two great categories, stimulants and sedatives—blistering, bleeding, drugs, and leeching—acknowledging no other objects, they cannot but admit the possibility of Hydropathy possessing the powers attributed to it, since its bracing and soothing properties cannot be questioned. Were, however, the position of affairs reversed, and Hydropathy become as old a system as the Allopathic this belief, in the efficacy of the old school might be securely entertained; for no one would think for a moment of exchanging a system, fixed, intelligible, and certain in its action, as based on scientific principles, and consonant with the laws of physiology, for the uncertain, groping, empirical, and injurious practice of drug medication.

We would ask the medical profession of Ireland to reflect on the fact, that Dr. Barter’s establishment at Blarney, contains at this moment upwards of 120 patients, with many more frequently seeking for admission within its walls, most of whom leave the establishment ardent converts to Hydropathy, determined for the rest of their lives to “throw physic to the dogs,” fleeing from it as from some poisonous thing. It will not do for them to “pooh-pooh” the system, and tell their patients, as many of them do, that it will kill them; [20] such language only betrays ignorance on their part, and will not put down a system which daily gives the lie to their predictions by affording ocular demonstration of its efficacy, in the restored health and blooming cheek of many a once emaciated friend. Men are too sensible now-a-days to pin their faith on the dictum of a medical man, who runs down a system without fairly investigating it, and examining the principles on which it acts, to say nothing of the prejudice he must feel in favour of his own particular system; but if a mode of treatment be rational, producing cures where every other system of treatment has failed, and recommend itself to the common sense and reason of mankind, we believe that such a principle will make its way despite of the opposition of all the physicians that ever lived; and this very progress the water cure is now making.

We would in conclusion apostrophize Hydropathy, in the words of the American traveller, who gave vent to his feelings on first beholding the falls of Niagara, by exclaiming, “Well done, Water!!”

THE TURKISH BATH. [21]

“Come hither, ye that press your beds of down
And sleep not, see him sweating o’er his bread
Before he eats it.—’Tis the primal curse,
But softened into mercy, made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.”—Cowper.

“Melancholy is overcome by a free perspiration; and cheerfulness,
without any evident cause, proceeds from it.”—Sanctorius.

What is a Turkish bath? Should this question be asked by any of our readers, we would answer, that it is a bath differing from all other hot baths in this important particular, viz., that the heated medium is AIR instead of water; and that all parts of the body, when in the bath, are subjected to an even and equal temperature. The result of which is, that inasmuch as man was constituted to breathe AIR instead of vapour, the Turkish bath may be enjoyed for hours at a time, without inconvenience; whereas in the vapour-bath the patient is unable to remain in it for more than about a quarter of an hour, in consequence of a feeling of suffocation, from want of a sufficient supply of air to the lungs. And further, there is this difference between the two baths, that in the case both of the vapour-bath and the vapour-box [22] the pulse is materially raised, whilst in the Turkish bath the pulse seldom rises above its normal state, which shows that the circulation is very little affected by it—an all-important fact, which is thus accounted for:—The normal temperature of the human body, when in a state of health, is about 98° Faht., a temperature which cannot be much augmented or diminished without producing injurious results in the system; but as it is impossible always to maintain so low temperature about us, Nature has provided, by means of perspiration, a safety valve, by which the human body is protected from the evil consequences which would arise from its exposure to a high temperature—the principle on which she acts being as follows:—It is a physical law that whenever evaporation takes place a considerable amount of latent heat, (i.e. heat not sensible to the thermometer), is absorbed, by which abstraction of heat the temperature of the body from which the evaporation proceeds is greatly lowered; but as evaporation consists in the absorption of vapour by the surrounding air, it is evident that no evaporation can take place where that air is already saturated with moisture, and it is also evident that the amount of evaporation will depend on the dryness of that air. Accordingly, in the Turkish bath, the air being almost dry, when perspiration takes place it is followed by a rapid evaporation which cools the body, and prevents its temperature from rising above a healthful limit; whereas, in the vapour-bath and vapour-box, the air being saturated, with moisture, evaporation cannot take place, and consequently as no means for reducing the high temperature of the body exist, the heat is thrown in upon the system, raising the pulse, producing feverish headache, and other symptoms of a highly deranged circulation; whilst a further derangement arises from an insufficient supply of air to the surface of the body. In the Turkish bath, again, the system, feeling that it has an ample supply of air, is not called upon to quicken the circulation through the lungs in order to obtain an increased supply, and thus another source of feverish excitement is obviated. These and other considerations give the Turkish bath the pre-eminence, longo intevallo, over all other artificial modes [23] yet invented for acting on the skin by perspiration.

It may be observed that, cæteris paribus, the strength of each person’s constitution is directly proportional to the quantity of oxygen which his system is capable of imbibing, for on this the vitality of his system and the purity of his blood, and therefore his health, depends. Hence arises the importance of supplying the system with an abundance of pure air, and the absolute necessity, when the lungs are by nature small and deficient, of increasing that supply of air through the only other medium open to us, viz., the skin [24]—(the great supplementary organ to the lungs)—the necessity for improving and developing the absorptive powers of which is in exact proportion to the lungs’ diminished capacity. It is in this lies the great therapeutic value of the Turkish bath, viz., in its opening the pores of the skin [25], and so improving that medium for the access of oxygen to the blood. Let two individuals, one with large lungs, the other with small, pursue the same habits of living; the individual with large lungs indulging himself to the furthest extent, consistent with the continuance of his health, and it will be found, that his small-lunged companion, in trying to keep pace with him, will utterly break down, his blood becoming diseased, and his health failing him from want of a sufficient supply of oxygen to purify his blood by burning off the carbonaceous matter which poisons it and depresses his vitality. The individual with large lungs will indulge in alcoholic beverages with impunity, to an extent which would entail consumption or some other miserable disease on his narrow-chested companion; it was the great exercise, constant exposure to, and rapid passage through, the air, (by which a large quantity of oxygen was supplied to the system through the lungs) that enabled our fox-hunting ancestors of old to live a life which their more sedentary descendants of the present day dare not attempt to practise.

Having premised thus far, we now proceed to a description of the principal features of the Turkish, or more correctly speaking, the Roman bath: at the same time strongly recommending to our readers the perusal of Mr. Urquhart’s pamphlet, for an historic and detailed account of this interesting remnant of Roman civilization.

The bath consists of three apartments, communicating with each other, each being dedicated to a special purpose. The first, or cooling-chamber, consists of a good-sized room, which may or may not be open to the heavens; but this condition is essential to it, that it be well ventilated, with a free current of cool air passing through it. In this room are placed sofas and reclining couches; and here the bather divests himself of his clothes, and places his feet in wooden clogs, previous to his entering the bath, the first act of which is enacted in the second or middle chamber.

This middle chamber consists of a room fitted with marble slabs, and mattresses to recline on; the ceiling being arched, and light transmitted from above through stars of stained glass, spreading a tinted gloom through the apartment, which effectually cuts off the mind from all communication with the outer world, disposing it to rest or quiet meditation—a frame of mind peculiarly desirable for those who medicinally [26] seek the bath. After reclining in the apartment for about half-an-hour or three quarters, according to the temperature, which varies from 90° to 100° Faht., until the surface of the body becomes soft and moist, and the pores slightly excited, you enter the third, or heated apartment, the Sudatorium [27] of the Romans. Under a roof similar to the one already described, are arranged seats of marble, together with a large platform of the same material, which is placed in the centre of the apartment, whilst along the walls are ranged marble basins, supplied by pipes with hot and cold water. In this chamber, the temperature of which varies from 130° to 150° Faht., shampooing, an essential part of the bath, is performed, a description of which process we will borrow from Mr. Urquhart’s interesting pamphlet. Having placed the bather on the marble platform, he thus describes the process:—

“The cloths are taken from your head and shoulders; one is spread
for you to lie on, the other is rolled for your head. You lie down
on your back, the tellak (bath attendant) kneels at your side, and
bending over, gripes and presses your chest, arms, and legs,
passing from part to part like a bird shifting its place on a
perch. He brings his whole weight on you with a jerk; follows the
line of muscle with anatomical thumb; draws the open hand strongly
over the surface, particularly round the shoulder, turning you half
up in so doing; stands with his feet on the thighs and on the
chest, and slips down the ribs; then up again three times, and,
lastly, doubling your arms, one after the other, on the chest,
pushes with both hands down, beginning at the elbow, and then
putting an arm under the back and applying his chest to your
crossed elbows, rolls on you across till you crack.”

The foregoing account of the process of shampooing may appear anything but pleasant to many of our readers; but they should recollect that it is a description of the process when FULLY carried out, and that it may be modified to any extent, or wholly omitted, according to the tastes of the bathers, or the physician’s prescription. Shampooing is, however, healthful and invigorating, causing the blood to flow briskly through the minor veins and capillaries, and bringing muscles and sinews into play which would otherwise remain inactive, unless a large amount of exercise were taken; it also materially assists in removing the inert skin from the surface of the body, and brings the pores into healthy action. Few people, after once undergoing the operation, would consider that they had received the full benefit of the bath were shampooing omitted. The shampooing being concluded, the bather is conducted to one of the marble fountains already described, where the waters are mixed to the required temperature. With these he is thoroughly washed, the water being poured over the body from metal bowls. Soap is then had recourse to, which, had it been used earlier in the process, would have materially interfered with its success, as the alkali of the soap, by combining with the oily substance of the epidermis, would have deprived it of the necessary consistency for its easy detachment from the body.

After a good lathering, and a good washing with warm water:—

“You are led a step or two and seated, the shoulder-cloth is taken
off, another put on, the first over it; another is folded round the
head; your feet are already in the wooden pattens; you are wished
health; you return the salute, rise, and are conducted by both arms
to the first or outer chamber, where the concluding act takes
place. The platform round the chamber is raised and divided by low
balustrades into little compartments, where the couches of repose
are arranged, so that while having the uninterrupted view all
round, parties or families may be by themselves. This is the time
and place for meals. The bather, having reached this apartment, is
conducted to the edge of the platform, to which there is only one
high step. You drop the wooden patten, and on the matting a towel
is spread, anticipating your footfall. You now recline on a couch
in the form of the letter W elongated, and, as you rest on it, the
weight is everywhere directly supported. Every tendon, every muscle
is relaxed—the mattress fitting, as it were, into the skeleton.
There is total inaction, and the body appears to be suspended.”

We shall not easily forget the sensations we ourselves experienced on first reclining on such a couch, after emerging from the Turkish bath (as revived by Dr. Barter at his far-famed hydropathic establishment near Blarney), enjoying a luxurious, balmy, and quiet repose, followed by an elasticity of body and mind such as we had never before felt. [28] We must here extract from a note in Mr. Urquhart’s pamphlet the following description of the feelings induced by reclining, after the bath, on these delicious couches:—

“On trouve alors des lits delicieux; on s’y repose avec volupté, on
y eprouve un calme et un bîenetre difficile à exprimer. C’est une
sorte de régénération dont le charme est encore augmenté par des
boissons restaurantes et surtout par un café exquis.”—D’Ohsson, t.
vii., p. 63.

Another writer thus describes it:—

“When all is done, a soft and luxurious feeling spreads itself over
your body; every limb is light and free as air; the marble-like
smoothness of the skin is delightful; and, after all this
pommelling, scrubbing, racking, parboiling, and perspiring, you
feel more enjoyment than you ever felt before.”

The object to be attained by the proceeding last described is to allow the body to cool down after the perspiration produced by the bath, and to encourage the free absorption of oxygen through the skin, the body being fully exposed to the action of the air when the pores are in the best condition to inhale it. We would here observe, that the Turks have given up the cold immersion of the Romans, which succeeded the last washing with warm water in the third or inner chamber, after which the bather was again conducted to the hot room for a few moments previous to his finally emerging into the first or cooling chamber. For this immersion the Turks have substituted the fanning of the body by a boy armed with a napkin or feather-fan, which, setting the cool air in motion, rapidly cools the body; whilst, with the same view, Dr. Barter uses, in some cases, the cold vertical and horizontal douches, or simple plunge bath, [29] according to the strength and powers of the individual, each mode realizing, however, the same end—namely, the preventing the breaking out of a second perspiration.

Mr. Urquhart thus finishes his description of the process:—

“The body has come forth shining like alabaster, fragrant as the
cistus, sleek as satin, and soft as velvet. The touch of your own
skin is electric. Buffon has a wonderful description of Adam’s
surprise and delight at his first touch of himself. It is the
description of the human sense when the body is brought back to its
purity. The body thus renewed, the spirit wanders abroad, and,
reviewing its tenement, rejoices to find it clean and tranquil.
There is an intoxication, or dream, that lifts you out of the
flesh, and yet a sense of life and consciousness that spreads
through every member. Each breastful of air seems to pass, not to
the heart but to the brain, and to quench, not the pulsation of the
one but the fancies of the other. That exaltation which requires
the slumber of the senses—that vividness of sense that drowns the
visions of the spirit—are simultaneously engaged in calm and
unspeakable luxury; you condense the pleasures of many scenes, and
enjoy in an hour the existence of years. But this, too, will pass.
The visions fade, the speed of the blood thickens, the breath of
the pores is checked, the crispness of the skin returns, the
fountains of strength are opened—you seek again the world and its
toils, and those who experience these effects and vicissitudes for
the first time exclaim, ‘I feel as if I could leap over the moon.’
Paying your pence according to the tariff of your deserts, you walk
forth a king.”