Ointments.—In the Middle Ages ointments made of the most far-fetched materials were employed even by distinguished surgeons. That, indeed, is the one serious flaw in the surgery of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, when they did everything else so well. These ointments contained all manner of materials that were likely to impress patients and make them feel that something wonderful was being done for them. Crushed insects of all kinds were employed for external lesions. Here the doctrine of similars seems once more to have been in play. Insects gave creepy feelings, and whenever such feelings, or the paresthesiae generally, were complained of, a poultice or ointment made of insects seemed to be the natural remedy. The more repellent the materials, the more efficient they were likely to be. Many of the paresthesiae are due to neurotic conditions and it is not surprising that when an ointment of crushed lice—these insects being collected from barnyard fowls or from hogs—was used, the suggestive influence was strong. Another important ingredient in ointments were portions of dead bodies. A bit of a mummy from the East was supposed to be particularly efficacious. Portions of the bodies of men who had been hanged, or of the moss that grew on the skulls of malefactors whose bodies had been long exposed in chains to the air, were also favorite ingredients. Plants and shrubs gathered in graveyards, especially in the dark of the moon, because on account of the terror of the place they were then harder to get, also had a great reputation.
CHAPTER IV
SIGNATURES AND PSYCHOTHERAPY
Similia similibus curantur , like is cured by like, is a very old idea. According to the doctrine of signatures nature had put an external natural marking or a symbolical appearance or characteristic upon a plant, mineral or other object, to indicate its special usefulness for the treatment of certain diseases or for affections of certain organs. Sir Robert Boyle, sometimes spoken of as the father of chemistry, said, "Chymists observe in the book of nature that those simples that wear the figure or resemblance, by them termed signature, of a distempered part, are medicinal for that part or that infirmity whose signature they bear." On this principle yellow flowered plants were good for jaundice, because they resembled it in color. The blood stone was good for hemorrhage, and plants of certain forms were good for the organs or parts of man which they resembled. Certain plants were named with this idea. Kidneywort, liverwort, are typical examples. Scorpion grass, our familiar forget-me-not of the genus myosotis, was so-called because its spike resembled a scorpion's tail and was, therefore, good against the scorpion's sting, or against pains similar to that produced by such a sting. Some of the resemblances were extremely far-fetched, but in spite of the defect of nature's signature on them, they seem to have been effective in therapeutics. The plant, sometimes called Jew's ear, which can by an effort of the imagination be made to bear resemblance to the human ear, was, for instance, supposed to be a successful cure for diseases of that organ.
We know now that there is no significance in this doctrine of signatures. It represented one phase of pseudo-science. But the idea of itself was enough to help people to throw off many symptoms, to relieve discouragement, to encourage them with the thought that they ought to get better; accordingly they took new heart, ate better, went out more, and as a result naturally slept better, and then nature did the rest. Signatures are an exquisite example of pure psychotherapy, as the initial agent and natural curative methods accomplishing the cure.
Signature Details.—Some of the details of the doctrine of signatures are amusing. For a considerable period nuts were supposed to be a good brain food, and some traces of this idea are still extant, although there does not seem to be any better reason for it than the fact that many nuts have an arrangement of their lobes which resembles the conformation of the brain. On the same principle the Chinese use ginseng-root as a general tonic. The extract is not of any special significance in medicine, though it has come to be much advertised in recent years, and the Chinese continue to pay high prices for it. The reason is that the root of the ginseng plant often resembles the human body. The more nearly this resemblance can be traced, the more virtue there is for the Chinese in the particular specimen of ginseng. The signature is on the roots. It is good for man because it looks like man, just as the nuts are good for the brain because they look like the brain. In modern times we are likely to think that we are far away from any such self-deception. But our deceptions have a more appealing pseudo scientific element in them. Fish was for some time considered a good brain food because fish has phosphorus in it and so has the brain. The two reasons have as much connection as that between nuts and the brain; or ginseng and man.
Astrological ideas came in to help out ignorance and foster supposed knowledge. The sun and the stars were favorable planets and the moon unfavorable. If anything about a plant reminded the gatherer of the sun or the stars, then that plant was sure to be beneficial, especially in chronic diseases. If anything reminded him of the moon, however, then it could be expected to be maleficent in influence. Though childish, this had yet its power to help.
The use of nitrate of silver, which in the old days was called lunar caustic, because it had, in a fresh state, a silvery, moon-like sheen, was largely a matter of signatures. The signature went both by similitude and by contrary. Since the lunar caustic supposedly had a moon quantity, therefore it would be good for moon-struck people—the lunatics of the old time and of our own time. As a consequence nitrate of silver was used in many obscure nervous and mental diseases. In epilepsy it was commonly employed. Even in our own times, entirely on empiric grounds, it was used for such severe organic nervous diseases as locomotor ataxia and sometimes to such an extent as to produce argyria. Undoubtedly, its use, with confidence on the part of the physician and suggestion and persuasion on the part of the patient, did much to relieve sufferers from discouragement and from such psychic disturbance of their general health as would have made their condition seem worse.
Wines as Remedies.—How much suggestibility means in the choice of remedies that of themselves are more or less indifferent, may be well judged from the recommendations with regard to various wines that have been made by physicians. At one time and place it is red wine, at another it is white wine that is particularly effective. For certain nations the stronger wines, as Port or some of the Hungarian wines, have appeared to exercise specific effects. Except for the tastiness of these various brands or for other trivial accessories, it is probable that the therapeutic efficacy of the wine depends entirely on the alcohol and the effect of this upon the patient. In his "Memories of My Life," Francis Galton relates that Robert Frere, one of his fellow pupils with Prof. Partridge, who became through marriage in later years a managing partner in a very old and eminent firm of wine merchants, told him that the books of the firm for one hundred and fifty years showed that every class of wine had in its turn been favored by the doctors.
In prescribing wine the doctrine of signatures probably had more to do with the special choice than anything else. Red wines were recommended for anemic people, because somehow the coloring was supposed to affect the patient in such a way as to make up for the lack of coloring in the blood. On the other hand, the light, and especially the straw-colored wines, were recommended for liver troubles, because of their relation in color to the yellow of bile. Light wines were best for people who had more color than normal. Some wines are much stronger than others, and the alcohol, as in so many of our patent medicines, had a stimulating tonic effect, but in olden times this was supposed to constitute only the smallest portion of the efficiency of the wine, while the ingredients that made its color and taste were extremely important. The taking of red wine by anemic patients often proved suggestively valuable, and the alcoholic stimulation led them to eat more freely