# Quackery Unmasked/Chapter XXX

CHAPTER XXX.
THE INSUFFICIENCY OF MEDICINE TO ACCOMPLISH ALL THAT THE PUBLIC REQUIRE.
One of the many causes of quackery may be found in the insufficiency of the profession fully to satisfy the demands of the public. Too much is always expected of physicians; and when they fail to accomplish all that is desired, the failure is not attributed, as it usually should be, to the irremediable condition of the patient, but to some supposed want of skill in the practitioner. Scarcely a patient dies but some appear to think the use of proper means might have saved him. In this respect public opinion is greatly in error. It is not in the power of the profession directly to save life so often as is generally supposed. The human system, in its most perfect condition, is a frail structure—every moment liable to derangement—predisposed to numerous diseases, and subject to a thousand casualties. And if it ​escape all these, it cannot last long. It is ever undergoing perpetual changes, and the whole duration of life in a healthy individual may be said to consist of a given number of such changes; each one, as it occurs, tells the number less—and if their regular operations are in no way disturbed, as soon as the full complement is finished, life ceases. No human power can lengthen out its operations, or add a single stroke to the pulse.
All that medicine can ever do, is to aid the recuperative powers in removing or overcoming whatever interferes with the due performance of the proper organic functions. This is the narrow ground to which all well-directed medical efforts are limited. Yet it is not to be despised on that account. Imperfect as it is, and inadequate as it ever must be to accomplish all that may be desired, it is nevertheless a priceless boon to humanity. Often, by removing some morbid agent which interferes with the operations of a vital organ and tends directly to destroy life, an individual is rescued from a premature death. By obviating, restraining or lessening the injurious ​effects of morbid causes, pain is relieved, the duration of disease shortened, and the system aided in its efforts to return to a healthy condition. Yet medicine does not pretend to confer immortality upon animal bodies. The dread mandate of the Most High, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," cannot be escaped; the final moment must come, when "no skill can fly nor power can save."
When we consider the extensive relief that frail humanity is constantly receiving from medical means, and the immense labor and sacrifice which it has cost the thousands who have devoted their lives to its cause, instead of reproaching it for its imperfections we should bless it for its benefits, and be devoutly thankful to the Great Author of all good for its merciful provision. But, unfortunately, men are not always thus disposed. Whenever the efforts of the physician are unsuccessful, the failure is thought to arise from his individual deficiency. The public make little or no allowance for the persistency or incurable nature of many diseases, but appear to suppose that a physician who is really skilful ​should be able always to effect a cure; they will not exercise that charity and forbearance towards physicians which is usually accorded to all other men.
The doctor must forego every enjoyment of his own, and sacrifice every earthly comfort, upon the shortest notice; his services are demanded in an imperious tone that is never used towards any other profession; and if he cannot instantly unravel the darkest mystery, and make a perfect diagnosis and prognosis in every case to which his attention is called, he is thought to be culpably deficient. No such unreasonable demands are made of any other class of men. The attorney is allowed days, and perhaps weeks, to consult his authorities before giving an opinion upon some settled point of law. He may hesitate, or even give a wrong opinion at first, and if he correct it afterwards it will be no disparagement to him. But the physician is required to be prompt and positive in his decisions;—his doubts, honestly expressed, are taken to be confessions of unpardonable ignorance. The public require merits in him which they expect to find nowhere ​else; they seem to think that he should know the patient's thoughts by his pulse, and be able to divine the character and give a history of his disease without making any inquiries.
The foundation for these extravagant and erroneous ideas has been laid by quackery, both without and within the profession, and everything that is designed to contribute to their encouragement is reprehensible quackery. Every charlatan understands this state of public opinion, and turns it to his own advantage; he is bold, prompt and confident, and never forgets to boast of his great knowledge.
The public mind should be disabused upon this subject, and the mask of presumption and arrogance which hides ignorance and fraud should be torn off, and the world should learn more correctly to discriminate between true and false merit. But men sometimes appear determined to reject every reasonable suggestion, and to consider all such hints as arising from mercenary motives. The patient and his friends cannot be reconciled to his condition; he cannot afford to be sick, and therefore must be cured by some man or by some means forthwith. ​If a physician in whom he has confided for years cannot do it, or will not promise to do it, he will employ some one or make use of some nostrum that promises all he asks. Perhaps one physician is dismissed and a second employed, and he in his turn dismissed and a third called; and if the patient ever gets well, his recovery is ascribed to the physician last in charge, although his treatment may have been nugatory or slightly injurious. This state of things opens a wide door to empirics and nostrums. Cancer doctors, consumption curers, and an innumerable multitude of infallible remedies for all diseases that flesh is heir to, stand thick around and demand admittance. Many an invalid has spent months, and perhaps years, in experimenting upon himself, with one remedy after another, always employing the very best of the good, the newest of the new, and surest of the sure, until at last, like Paracelsus, he has died with a bottle of some infallible sanative by his side. Poor, deluded mortal! he would heed no sound advice, because he believed that doctors were selfish; he therefore followed an ignis fatuus, and it led him to his grave.