III The Gastric Juice
From many causes, the experimental study of the digestive processes came later than the study of the circulation. As an object of speculative thought, digestion was a lower phase of life, the work of crass spirits, less noble than the blood; from the point of view of science, it could not be studied ahead of organic chemistry, and got no help from any other sort of knowledge; and, from the medical point of view, it was the final result of many unknown internal forces that could not be observed or estimated either in life or after death. It did not, like the circulation, centre itself round one problem; it could not be focussed by the work of one man. For these reasons, and especially because of its absolute dependence on chemistry for the interpretation of its facts, it had to bide its time; and Réaumur’s experiments are separated from the publication of Harvey’s De Motu Cordis et Sanguinis by a hundred and thirty years.
The following account of the first experiments on digestion is taken from Claude Bernard’s Physiologie Opératoire, 1879:—
“The true experimental study of digestion is of comparatively recent date; the ancients were content to find comparisons, more or less happy, with common facts. Thus, for Hippocrates, digestion was a ‘coction’: for Galen, a ‘fermentation,’ as of wine in a vat. In later times, van Helmont started this comparison again: for him, digestion was a fermentation like that of bread: as the baker, having kneaded the bread, keeps a little of the dough to leaven the next lot kneaded, so, said van Helmont, the intestinal canal never completely empties itself, and the residue that it keeps after each digestion becomes the leaven that shall serve for the next digestion.
“The first experimental studies on the digestion date from the end of the seventeenth century, when the Academy of Florence was the scene of a famous and long controversy between Borelli and Valisnieri. The former saw nothing more in digestion than a purely mechanical act, a work of attrition whereby the ingesta were finely divided and as it were pulverised: and in support of this opinion Borelli invoked the facts that he had observed relating to the gizzard of birds. We know that this sac, with its very thick muscular walls, can exercise on its contents pressure enough to break the hardest bodies. Identifying the human stomach with the bird’s gizzard, Borelli was led to attribute to the walls of the stomach an enormous force, estimated at more than a thousand pounds; whose action, he said, was the very essence of digestion. Valisnieri, on the contrary, having had occasion to open the stomach of an ostrich, had found there a fluid which seemed to act on bodies immersed in it; this fluid, he said, was the active agent of digestion, a kind of aqua fortis that dissolved food.
“These two opposed views, resulting rather from observations than from regularly instituted experiments, were the starting-point of the experimental researches undertaken by Réaumur in 1752. To resolve the problem set by Borelli and Valisnieri, Réaumur made birds swallow food enclosed in fenestrated tubes, so that the food, protected from the mechanical action of the walls of the stomach, was yet exposed to the action of the gastric fluid. The first tubes used (glass, tin, etc.) were crushed, bent, or flattened by the action of the walls of the gizzard; and Réaumur failed to oppose to this force a sufficient resistance, till he employed leaden tubes thick enough not to be flattened by a pressure of 484 pounds: which was, in fact, the force exercised by the contractile walls of the gizzard in turkeys, ducks, and fowls under observation. These leaden tubes—filled with ordinary grain, and closed only by a netting that let pass the gastric juices—these tubes, after a long stay in the stomach, still enclosed grain wholly intact, unless it had been crushed before the experiment. When they were filled with meat, it was found changed, but not digested. Réaumur was thus led at first to consider digestion, in the gallinaceæ, as pure and simple trituration. But, repeating these experiments on birds of prey, he observed that digestion in them consists essentially in dissolution, without any especial mechanical action, and that it is the same with the digestion of meat in all animals with membranous stomachs. To procure this dissolving fluid, Réaumur made the birds swallow sponges with threads attached: withdrawing these sponges after a definite period, he squeezed the fluid into a glass, and tested its action on meat. That was the first attempt at artificial digestion in vitro. He did not carry these last investigations very far, and did not obtain very decisive results; nevertheless he must be considered as the discoverer of artificial digestion.”
After Réaumur, the Abbé Spallanzani (1783) made similar observations on many other animals, including carnivora. He showed that even in the gallinaceæ there was dissolution of food, not mere trituration: and observed how after death the gastric fluid may under certain conditions act on the walls of the stomach itself.
“Henceforth the experimental method had cut the knot of the question raised by the theories of Borelli and Valisnieri: digestion could no longer be accounted anything but a dissolution of food by the fluid of the stomach, the gastric juice. But men had still to understand this gastric juice, and to determine its nature and mode of action. Nothing could be more contradictory than the views on this matter. Chaussier and Dumas, of Montpellier, regarded the gastric juice as of very variable composition, one time alkaline, another acid, according to the food ingested. Side by side with these wholly theoretical opinions, certain results of experiments had led to ideas just as erroneous, for want of rigorous criticism of methods; it was thus that Montègre denied the existence of the gastric juice as a special fluid; what men took for gastric juice, he said, was nothing but the saliva turned acid in the stomach. To prove his point, he made the following experiment:—He masticated a bit of bread, then put it out on a plate; it was at first alkaline, then at the end of some time it became acid. In those days (1813) this experiment was a real embarrassment to the men who believed in the existence of a special gastric juice: we have now no need to refute it.
“These few instances suffice to show how the physiologists were unsettled as to the nature and properties of the gastric juice. Then (1823) the Academy had the happy idea of proposing digestion as a subject for a prize. Tiedemann and Gmelin in Germany, Leuret and Lassaigne in France, submitted works of equal merit, and the Academy divided the prize between them. The work of Tiedemann and Gmelin is of especial interest to us on account of the great number of their experiments, from which came not only the absolute proof of the existence of the gastric juice, but also the study of the transformation of starch into glucose. Thus the theory of digestion entered a new phase: it was finally recognised, at least for certain substances, that digestion is not simply dissolution, but a true chemical transformation.” (Cl. Bernard, loc. cit.)
In 1825 Dr. William Beaumont, a surgeon in the United States Army, began his famous experiments on Alexis St. Martin, a young Canadian travelling for the American Fur Company, who was shot in the abdomen on 6th June 1822, and recovered, but was left with a permanent opening in his stomach. Since the surgery of those days did not favour an operation to close this fistula, Dr. Beaumont took St. Martin into his service, and between 1825 and 1833 made a vast number of experiments on him. These he published,2 and they were of great value. But it is to be noted that the ground had been cleared already, fifty years before, by Réaumur and Spallanzani:—
“I make no claim to originality in my opinions, as it respects the existence and operation of the gastric juice. My experiments confirm the doctrines (with some modifications) taught by Spallanzani, and many of the most enlightened physiological writers.” (Preface to Dr. Beaumont’s book.)
Further, it is to be noted that Alexis St. Martin’s case proves that a gastric fistula is not painful. Scores of experiments were made on him, off and on, for nine years:—
“During the whole of these periods, from the spring of 1824 to the present time (1833), he has enjoyed general good health, and perhaps suffered much less predisposition to disease than is common to men of his age and circumstances in life. He has been active, athletic, and vigorous; exercising, eating, and drinking like other healthy and active people. For the last four months he has been unusually plethoric and robust, though constantly subjected to a continuous series of experiments on the interior of the stomach; allowing to be introduced or taken out at the aperture different kinds of food, drinks, elastic catheters, thermometer tubes, gastric juice, chyme, etc., almost daily, and sometimes hourly.
“Such have been this man’s condition and circumstances for several years past; and he now enjoys the most perfect health and constitutional soundness, with every function of the system in full force and vigour.” (Dr. Beaumont, loc. cit. p. 20.)
In 1834 Eberlé published a series of observations on the extraction of gastric juice from the mucous membrane of the stomach after death; in 1842 Blondlot of Nancy studied the gastric juice of animals by the method of a fistula, such as Alexis St. Martin had offered for Dr. Beaumont’s observation. After Blondlot, came experiments on the movements of the stomach, and on the manifold influences of the nervous system on digestion.
It has been said, times past number, that an animal with a fistula is in pain. It is not true. The case of St. Martin is but one out of a multitude of these cases: an artificial orifice of this kind is not painful.