Just what the tractors were composed of may be found in the description of them filed with an application for a patent in the Rolls Chapel Office in London. They were not simply two different metals, but a combination of many metals, with even a little of the precious metals in them, partly because of the appeal that this would make to the multitude, as chloride of gold did to our own generation, but doubtless mainly because the claim of precious metals entering into the composition enabled the inventor to sell his tractors at a better price.
Dr. Holmes continues:
Perkins soon found numerous advocates of his discovery, many of them of high standing and influence. In 1798 the tractors had crossed the Atlantic, and were publicly employed in the Royal Hospital at Copenhagen. About the same time the son of the inventor, Mr. Benjamin Douglass Perkins, carried them to London where they soon attracted attention. The Danish physicians published an account of their cases in a respectable octavo volume, containing numerous instances of alleged success. In 1804 an establishment, honored with the name of the Perkinean Institution, was founded in London. The transactions of this institution were published in pamphlets, the Perkinean Society had public dinners at the Crown and Anchor, and a poet celebrated their medical triumphs.5
Miss Watterson6 tells how he attracted attention. Like all successful quacks, he had an inborn genius for advertising.
He lived in the house once occupied by John Hunter [how characteristic this is—the first quack we mentioned in this chapter, took up his work in Galen's front yard], and in 1804 the Perkinean Institute was opened, but by the end of 1802, 5,000 cases had already been treated. Lord Rivers was president. Sir William Barker, Vice-President [Prominent legislators, lawyers, bankers always lend their names.] Twenty-one physicians, nineteen surgeons, and the leading veterinaries succumbed to the influence of the magic tractors. One "eminent physician" who had had 30 guineas from a country patient and had done him no good was very angry when the sick man took to Perkinism.
"Why, I could have cured you in the same way with my old brick-bat or tobacco pipe, or even my fingers."
"Then why, sir," answered the patient in a stern voice (Perkins quotes this), "did you dishonorably pick my pocket when you had the means of restoring me to health?"
In some 176 pages young Perkins gives us the pick of 2,000 cases who had, of course, been foolish enough at first to put faith in the ordinary physician and his drugs.
In Bath, particularly, where aristocratic London went, as they do to-day, to repair the damage wrought by a season in town, the Tractor Cure was the talk of the place. But an enemy dwelt there, a Dr. Haygarth, an unbeliever. He, with a certain Dr. Falconer, fabricated a pair of false tractors. Five cases of gout and rheumatism were operated on by the conspirators, who discussed in a light tone the wonders of magnetism as they described circles, squares and triangles with the sham tractors. "We were almost afraid to look each other in the face lest an involuntary smile should remove the mask from our faces," says Haygarth, but the two assistant doctors, unaware of what was being done, were almost converted to Perkinism when they saw the five patients slowly mending under the treatment. One man experienced such burning pain that he begged to wait till the next day.7
So rapid, and so many were the hospital cures wrought by these two doctors, that patients crowded to them and they could hardly spare five minutes to eat. They amused themselves inventing other instruments made of common nails and sealing wax, and effected with them cures, while they sent a pair of false tractors to Sir William Watson in London and Dr. Moncriffe in Bristol, who operated with them with wonderful results.
It must not, however, be thought that the uneducated, or the unskilled, or even merely unoccupied, were the only ones taken in by the supposed power of Perkins' Tractors. As we have seen, many physicians did not hesitate to avow themselves publicly as believers in this new and marvelous application of magnetism to human healing. It is true that the only thing we know about the men who became advocates of this new instrumental therapeusis, is their connection with it. The attention of the scientific world was rather cleverly managed. Dr. Perkins presented a pair of his tractors and the book that he had written about their use to the Royal Society. The custom of that learned body was to accept such presentations by a formal letter of thanks and place the objects and books on their shelves. No formal investigation of the claims to scientific consideration of such presentations was made. All possible advantage was taken of the fact that the Royal Society had accepted the new invention and had publicly thanked the discoverer for it.
How characteristically recent this old story is; it is renewed on every possible occasion and wears all the familiar aspect of modern devices for securing recognition and obtaining the apparent approbation or recommendation of some scientific society or institution. We had an example of it a few years ago when a nostrum exploiter signed the register of an International Congress immediately after a great medical investigator and then used a photograph of the names for advertising purposes.
How did the tractors secure the vogue they enjoyed? Those who believed in them did so not because of the scientific theory that animal magnetism or magnetic influence was behind them, nor because of the plausible ways of the Connecticut Yankee, but because of the unquestioned and unquestionable facts of actual healing that they saw in connection with the use of the tractors. Every one of these applications of science to medicine that has proved to be pseudo-scientific after enthusiasm subsides has made its appeal through the cures effected by it. Cures are what Eddyism advances to support its claims, cured patients are presented as their most effective argument by the osteopaths, cured symptoms are the proofs for Hahnemannism, but none of these systems of treatment ever cured as many cases in a corresponding time as did Perkins' tractors. They cured all sorts of physical ills, but their only effect was exerted through the mind.
Holmes wrote:
Let us now look at the general tenor of the arguments addressed by believers to sceptics and opponents. Foremost of all, blazoned at the head of every column, loudest shouted by every triumphant disputant, held up as paramount to all other considerations, stretched like an impenetrable shield to protect the weakest advocate of the great cause against the weapons of the adversary, was that omnipotent monosyllable which has been the patrimony of cheats and the currency of dupes from time Immemorial—Facts! Facts! FACTS! First came the published cases of the American clergymen, brigadier-generals, almshouse governors, representatives, attorneys and esquires. Then came the published cases of the surgeons of Copenhagen. Then followed reports of about one hundred and fifty cases, published in England, "demonstrating the efficacy of the metallic practice" in a variety of complaints, both upon the human body and on horses, etc. But the progress of facts in Great Britain did not stop here. Let those who rely upon the numbers of their testimonials, as being alone sufficient to prove the soundness and stability of a medical novelty digest the following from the report of the Perkinistic Committee. "The cases published (in Great Britain) amounted, in March last, the date of Mr. Perkins' last publication, to about five thousand. Supposing that not more than one cure in three hundred, which the tractors have performed, has been published, and the proportion is probably much greater, it will be seen that the number, to March last, will have exceeded one million five hundred thousand!"
It is not surprising that with such "facts" behind them the tractors attracted deep and wide attention. A contemporary tells of it and the fate of the inventor:
A gentleman in Virginia sold