THE LAWS OF HEALTH. PHILOSOPHY OF RESPIRATION.
We instinctively shun approach to the dirty, the squalid, and the
diseased, and use no garment that may have been worn by another. We
open sewers for matters that offend the sight or the smell, and
contaminate the air. We carefully remove impurities from what we eat
and drink, filter turbid water, and fastidiously avoid drinking from
a cup that may have been pressed to the lips of a friend. On the
other hand, we resort to places of assembly, and draw into our
mouths air loaded with effluvia from the lungs, skin, and clothing
of every individual in the promiscuous crowd--exhalations offensive,
to a certain extent, from the most healthy individuals; but when
arising from a living mass of skin and lungs in all stages of
evaporation, disease, and putridity, they are in the highest degree
deleterious and loathsome.--BIRNAN.
Respiration is usually defined as the process by which air is taken into
the lungs and expelled from them. It explains the changes that take
place in these organs, in the conversion of _chyle_ and _venous_, or
worn-out blood, into _arterial_ or nutrient blood. In order to be
clearly understood, I must premise a few observations on the
circulation of the blood.[11] The blood circulating through the body is
of two different kinds; the one _red_ or _arterial_, and the other
_dark_ or _venous_ blood. The former alone is capable of affording
nourishment and supporting life. It is distributed from the _left_ side
of the heart all over the body by means of a great _artery_, which
subdivides in its course, and ultimately terminates in myriads of very
minute ramifications closely interwoven with, and in reality
constituting a part of, the texture of every living part. On reaching
this extreme point of its course, the blood passes into equally minute
ramifications of the _veins_, which in their turn gradually coalesce,
and form larger and larger trunks, till they at last terminate in two
large veins, by which the whole current of the venous blood is brought
back in a direction contrary to that of the blood in the arteries, and
poured into the _right_ side of the heart. On examining the quality of
the blood in the arteries and veins, it is found to have undergone a
great change in its passage from the one to the other. The florid hue
which distinguished it in the arteries has disappeared, and given place
to the dark color characteristic of venous blood. Its properties, too,
have changed, and it is now no longer capable of sustaining life.
[11] Taken, with slight alterations, from the description of Dr. A.
Combe.
Two conditions are essential to the reconversion of venous into arterial
blood, and to the restoration of its vital properties. The first is an
adequate provision of _new materials_ from the _food_ to supply the
place of those which have been expended in nutrition, and the second is
the free exposure of the _venous blood_ to the _atmospheric air_. The
first condition is fulfilled by the chyle, or nutrient portion of the
food, being regularly poured into the venous blood just before it
reaches the right side of the heart, and the second by the important
process of _respiration_, which takes place in the air-cells of the
lungs. The venous blood, having arrived at the right side of the heart,
is propelled by the contraction of that organ into a large artery,
leading directly, by separate branches, to the two lungs, and hence
called the _pulmonary_ artery. In the innumerable branches of this
artery expanding themselves throughout the substance of the lungs, the
dark blood is subjected to the contact of the air inhaled in breathing,
and a change in the composition both of the blood and of the inhaled air
takes place, in consequence of which the former is found to have
reassumed its florid or arterial hue, and to have regained its power of
supporting life. The blood then enters minute venous ramifications,
which gradually coalesce into larger branches, and at last terminate in
four large trunks in the left side of the heart, whence the blood, in
its arterial form, is again distributed over the body, to pursue the
same course and undergo the same change as before.
It will be perceived that there are two distinct circulations, each of
which is carried on by its own system of vessels. The one is from the
_left_ side of the _heart_ to _every part of the body_, and back to the
_right_ side of the _heart_. The other is from the _right_ side of the
_heart_ to the _lungs_, and back to the _left_ side of the _heart_. The
former has for its object nutrition and the maintenance of life; and the
latter, the restoration of the deteriorated blood, and the
_animalization_ or _assimilation_ of the _chyle_ from which the _blood_
is formed. This process has already been referred to as the _completion
of digestion_; for _chyle_ is not fitted to nourish the system until, by
its exposure to the atmospheric air in the lungs, it is converted into
_arterial blood_.
As the food can not become a part of the living animal, or the venous
blood regain its lost properties until they have undergone the
requisite changes in the air-cells of the lungs, the function of
respiration by which these are effected is one of pre-eminent importance
in the animal economy, and well deserves the most careful examination.
The term respiration is frequently restricted to the mere inhalation and
expiration of air from the lungs, but more generally it is employed to
designate the whole series of phenomena which occur in these organs. The
term _sanguification_ is occasionally used to denote that part of the
process in which the blood, by exposure to the action of the air, passes
from the venous to the arterial state. As the chyle does not become
assimilated to the blood until it has passed through the lungs, this
term, which signifies _blood-making_, is not unaptly used.
The _quantity_ and _quality_ of the blood have a most direct and
material influence upon the condition of every part of the body. If the
_quantity_ sent to the arm, for example, be diminished by tying the
artery through which it is conveyed, the arm, being then imperfectly
nourished, wastes away, and does not regain its plumpness till the full
supply of blood be restored. In like manner, when the _quality_ of that
fluid is impaired by deficiency of food, bad digestion, impure air, or
imperfect sanguification in the lungs, the body and all its functions
become more or less disordered. Thus, in consumption, death takes place
chiefly in consequence of respiration not being sufficiently perfect to
admit of the formation of proper blood in the lungs. A knowledge of the
structure and functions of the lungs, and of the conditions favorable to
_their_ healthy action, is therefore very important, for on their
welfare depends that of every organ of the body.
The exposure of the blood to the action of the air seems to be
indispensable to every variety of animated creatures. In man and the
more perfect of the lower animals, it is carried on in the lungs, the
structure of which is admirably adapted for the purpose. In many
animals, however, the requisite action is effected without the
intervention of lungs. In fishes, for example, that live in water and do
not breathe, the blood circulates through the gills, and in them is
exposed to the air which the water contains. So necessary is the
atmospheric air to the vitality of the blood in all animals, that the
want of it inevitably proves fatal. A fish can no more live in water
deprived of air, than a man could in an atmosphere devoid of oxygen,
which is the element that unites with the blood in the lungs in
sanguification.
In man the lungs are those large, light, spongy bodies which, along with
the heart, completely fill up the cavity of the chest. They vary much in
size in different persons; and as the chest is formed for their
protection, it is either large and capacious, or the reverse, according
to the size of the lungs.
The substance of the lungs consists of bronchial tubes, air-cells,
blood-vessels, nerves, and cellular membrane. The bronchial tubes are
merely continuations and subdivisions of the windpipe, and serve to
convey the external air to the air-cells of the lungs. The air-cells
constitute the chief part of the lungs, and are the termination of the
smaller branches of the bronchial tubes. When fully distended, they are
so numerous as in appearance to constitute almost the whole lung. They
are of various sizes, from the twentieth to the hundredth of an inch in
diameter, and are lined with an exceedingly fine, thin membrane, on
which the minute capillary branches of the pulmonary arteries and veins
are copiously ramified. It is while circulating in the small vessels of
this membrane, and there exposed to the air, that the blood undergoes
the change from the venous to the arterial state. So numerous are these
air-cells, that the aggregate extent of their lining membrane in man has
been computed to exceed twenty thousand square inches, or about ten
times the surface of the human body. Some writers place the estimate
considerably higher.
A copious _exhalation_ of moisture takes place in breathing, which
presents a striking analogy to the exhalation from the surface of the
skin already described. In the former as in the latter instance, the
exhalation is carried on by the innumerable minute capillary vessels in
which the small arterial branches terminate in the air-cells. Pulmonary
exhalation is, in fact, one of the chief outlets of waste matter from
the system; and the air we breathe is thus vitiated, not only by the
subtraction of its oxygen and the addition of carbonic acid gas, but
also by animal effluvia, with which it is loaded when returned from the
lungs. In some individuals this last source of impurity is so great as
to render their vicinity offensive, and even insupportable. It is this
which gives the disagreeable, sickening smell to crowded rooms. The air
which is expired from the lungs is rendered offensive by various other
causes. When spirituous liquors are taken into the stomach, for example,
they are absorbed by the veins and mixed with the venous blood, in which
they are carried to the lungs to be expelled from the body. In some
instances, when persons have drank copiously of spirits, their breath
has been so saturated with them as actually to _take fire_ and _burn_.
An instance of this kind has recently been communicated to me by several
reliable witnesses, in which the flame was extinguished by closing the
mouth and nose, thus excluding the pure air that supported the
combustion, until the unfortunate experimenter could remove the candle
by which his breath had taken fire. This illustration will explain how
the odor of different substances is frequently perceptible in the breath
long after the mouth is free from them.
The lungs not only exhale waste matter, but _absorption_ takes place
from their lining membrane. In both of these respects there is a
striking analogy between the functions performed by the lungs and the
skin. When a person breathes an atmosphere loaded with the fumes of
spirits, tobacco, turpentine, or of any other volatile substance, a
portion of the fumes is taken up by the absorbing vessels of the lungs,
and carried into the system, and there produces precisely the same
effects as if introduced into the stomach. Dogs, for example, have been
killed by being made to inhale the fumes of prussic acid for a few
minutes. The lungs thus become a ready inlet to contagion, miasmata, and
other poisonous influences diffused through the air we breathe.
From this general explanation of the structure and uses of the lungs, it
is obvious that several conditions which it is our interest to know and
observe are essential to the healthy performance of the important
function of respiration. The first among these is a healthy original
formation of the lungs. No fact in medicine is better established, says
Dr. Combe, than that which proves the hereditary transmission, from
parents to children, of a constitutional liability to pulmonary disease,
and especially to consumption; yet, continues he, no condition is less
attended to in forming matrimonial engagements.
Another requisite to the well-being of the lungs, and to the free and
salutary exercise of respiration, is a due supply of rich and healthy
blood. When, from defective food or impaired digestion, the blood is
impoverished in quality, and rendered unfit for adequate nutrition, the
lungs speedily suffer, and that often to a fatal extent. The free and
easy expansion of the chest is also indispensable to the full play and
dilation of the lungs. Whatever interferes with or impedes it, either in
dress or in position, is obviously prejudicial to health. On the other
hand, whatever favors the free expansion of the chest equally promotes
the healthy action of the respiratory organs. Stays and corsets, and
tight vests and waistbands, operate most injuriously, compressing as
they do the thoracic cavity, and interfering with the healthy dilation
of the lungs.
The admirable harmony established by the Creator between the various
constituent parts of the animal frame, renders it impossible to pay
regard to the conditions required for the health of any one, or to
infringe the conditions required therefor, without all the rest
participating in the benefit or injury. Thus, while cheerful exercise in
the open air and in the society of equals is directly and eminently
conducive to the well-being of the muscular system, the advantage does
not stop there, the beneficent Creator having kindly so ordered it that
the same exercise shall be scarcely less advantageous to the important
function of respiration. Active exercise calls the lungs into play,
favors their expansion, promotes the circulation of the blood through
their substance, and leads to their complete and healthy development.
The same end is greatly facilitated by that free and vigorous exercise
of the voice, which so uniformly accompanies and enlivens the sports of
the young, and which doubles the benefits derived from them considered
as exercise. The excitement of the social and moral feelings which
children experience while engaged in play is another powerful tonic, the
influence of which on the general health ought not to be overlooked; for
the nervous influence is as indispensable to the right performance of
respiration as it is to the action of the muscles or to the digestion of
food.
The regular supply of pure fresh air is another essential condition of
healthy respiration, without which the requisite changes in the
constitution of the blood, as it passes through the lungs, can not be
effected. To enable the reader to appreciate this condition, it is
necessary to consider the nature of the changes alluded to.
It is ascertained by analysis that the air we breathe is composed
chiefly of the two gases _nitrogen_ and _oxygen_, united in the ratio of
four to one by volume, with exceedingly small and variable quantities of
carbonic acid and aqueous vapor. No other mixture of these, or of any
other gases, will sustain healthy respiration. To be more
specific--atmospheric air consists of about seventy-eight per cent. of
nitrogen, twenty-one per cent. of oxygen, and not quite one per cent. of
carbonic acid. Such is its constitution when taken into the lungs in the
act of breathing. When it is expelled from them, however, its
composition is found to be greatly altered. The quantity of nitrogen
remains nearly the same, but eight or eight and a half per cent. of the
oxygen or vital air have disappeared, and been replaced by an equal
amount of carbonic acid. In addition to these changes, the expired air
is loaded with moisture. Simultaneously with these occurrences, the
blood collected from the veins, which enters the lungs of a dark color
and unfit for the support of life, assumes a florid hue and acquires the
power of supporting life.
Physiologists are not fully agreed in explaining the processes by which
these changes are effected in the lungs. All, however, agree that the
change of the blood in the lungs is essentially dependent on the supply
of oxygen contained in the air we breathe, and that air is fit or unfit
for respiration in exact proportion as its quantity of oxygen
approaches to, or differs from, that contained in pure air. If we
attempt to breathe nitrogen, hydrogen, or any other gas that does not
contain oxygen, the result will be speedy suffocation. If, on the other
hand, we breathe air containing too great a proportion of oxygen, the
vital powers will speedily suffer from excess of stimulus.
The chief chemical properties of the atmosphere are owing to the
presence of _oxygen_. Nitrogen, which constitutes about four fifths of
its volume, has been supposed to act as a mere diluent to the oxygen.
_Increase_ the proportion of oxygen in the atmosphere, and, as already
stated, the vital powers will speedily suffer from excess of stimulus,
the circulation and respiration become _too rapid_, and the system
generally becomes highly excited. _Diminish_ the proportion of oxygen,
and the circulation and respiration become _too slow_, weakness and
lassitude ensue, and a sense of heaviness and uneasiness pervades the
entire system. As has been observed, air _loses_ during each respiration
a portion of its oxygen, and gains an equal quantity of _carbonic acid_,
which is an _active poison_. When mixed with atmospheric air in the
ratio of one to four, it extinguishes animal life. It is this gas that
is produced by burning charcoal in a confined portion of common air. Its
effect upon the system is well known to every reader of our newspapers.
It causes dimness of sight, weakness, dullness, a difficulty of
breathing, and ultimately _apoplexy_ and _death_.[12]
[12] Since the text was prepared for the press, I have noticed from the
Syracuse (New York) Journal of January 3d, 1850, mention of the death of
General Rensselaer Van Rensselaer, of that city, from breathing "the
fumes of charcoal" burned in a "portable furnace." This, it should be
remembered, is but _one_ of the _many instances_ that are constantly
occurring all over our country, in which _immediate death_ is the result
of breathing this destructive agent.
Respiration produces the same effect upon air that the burning of
charcoal does. It converts its oxygen, which is the aliment of animal
life, into carbonic acid, which, be it remembered, is an active poison.
Says Dr. Turner, in his celebrated work on chemistry, "An animal can not
live in air which is unable to support combustion." Says the same author
again, "An animal can not live in air which contains sufficient carbonic
acid for extinguishing a candle." It will presently be seen why these
quotations are made.
It is stated in several medical works that the quantity of air that
enters the lungs at each inspiration of an adult varies from thirty-two
to forty cubic inches. To establish more definitely some data upon which
a calculation might safely be based, I some years ago conducted an
experiment whereby I ascertained the medium quantity of air that entered
the lungs of myself and four young men was thirty-six cubic inches, and
that respiration is repeated once in three seconds, or twenty times a
minute. I also ascertained that _respired air will not support
combustion_. This truth, taken in connection with the quotations just
made, establishes another and a _more important_ truth, viz., that AIR
ONCE RESPIRED WILL NOT FURTHER SUSTAIN ANIMAL LIFE. That part of the
experiment by which it was ascertained that respired air will not
support combustion is very simple, and I here give it with the hope that
it may be tried at least in every _school-house_, if not in every family
of our wide-spread country. It was conducted as follows:
I introduced a lighted taper into an inverted receiver (glass jar) which
contained seven quarts of atmospheric air, and placed the mouth of the
receiver into a vessel of water. The taper burned with its wonted
brilliancy about a minute, and, growing dim gradually, became extinct
at the expiration of three minutes. I then filled the receiver with
water, and inverting it, placed its mouth beneath the surface of the
same fluid in another vessel. I next removed the water from the receiver
by _breathing into it_. This was done by filling the lungs with air,
which, after being retained a short time in the chest, was exhaled
through a siphon (a bent lead tube) into the receiver. I then introduced
the lighted taper into the receiver of respired air, by which it was
_immediately extinguished_. Several persons present then received a
quantity of respired air into their lungs, whereupon the premonitory
symptoms of apoplexy, as already given, ensued. The experiment was
conducted with great care, and several times repeated in the presence of
respectable members of the medical profession, a professor of chemistry,
and several literary gentlemen, to their entire satisfaction.
Before proceeding further, I will make a practical application of the
principles already established. Within the last ten years I have visited
half of the states of the Union for the purpose of becoming acquainted
with the actual condition of our common schools. I have therefore
noticed especially the condition of school-houses. Although there is a
great variety in their dimensions, yet there are comparatively few
school-houses less than sixteen by eighteen feet on the ground, and
fewer still larger than twenty-four by thirty feet, exclusive of our
principal cities and villages. From a large number of actual
measurements, not only in New York and Michigan, but east of the Hudson
River and west of the great lakes, I conclude that, exclusive of entry
and closets, when they are furnished with these appendages,
school-houses are not usually larger than twenty by twenty-four feet on
the ground, and seven feet in height. They are, indeed, more frequently
smaller than larger. School-houses of these dimensions have a capacity
of 3360 cubic feet, and are usually occupied by at least forty-five
scholars in the winter season. Not unfrequently sixty or seventy, and
occasionally more than a hundred scholars occupy a room of this size.
A simple arithmetical computation will abundantly satisfy any person who
is acquainted with the composition of the atmosphere, the influence of
respiration upon its fitness to sustain animal life, and the quantity of
air that enters the lungs at each inspiration, that a school-room of the
preceding dimensions contains quite too little air to sustain the
healthy respiration of even _forty-five_ scholars three hours--the usual
length of each session; and frequently the school-house is imperfectly
ventilated between the sessions at noon, and sometimes for several days
together.
Mark the following particulars: 1. The quantity of air breathed by
forty-five persons in three hours, according to the data just given, is
3375 cubic feet. 2. _Air once respired will not sustain animal life._ 3.
The school-room was estimated to possess a capacity of 3360 cubic
feet--_fifteen feet less than is necessary to sustain healthy
respiration_. 4. Were forty-five persons whose lungs possess the
estimated capacity placed in an air-tight room of the preceding
dimensions, and could they breathe pure air till it was all once
respired, and then enter upon its second respiration, _they would all
die with the apoplexy before the expiration of a three hours' session_.
From the nature of the case, these conditions can not conveniently be
fulfilled. But numerous instances of fearful approximation exist. We
have no air-tight houses. But in our latitude, comfort requires that
rooms which are to be occupied by children in the winter season, be
made very close. The dimensions of rooms are, moreover, frequently
narrowed, that the _warm breath_ may lessen the amount of fuel necessary
to preserve a comfortable temperature. It is true, on the other hand,
that the quantity of air which children breathe is somewhat less than I
have estimated. But the derangement resulting from breathing impure air,
in their case, is greater than in the case of adults whose constitutions
are matured, and who are hence less susceptible of injury. It is also
true in many schools that the number occupying a room of the dimensions
supposed is considerably greater than I have estimated. Moreover, in
many instances, a great proportion of the larger scholars will respire
the estimated quantity of air.
Again, all the air in a room is not respired _once_ before a portion of
it is breathed the second, or even the _third_ and _fourth_ time. The
atmosphere is not suddenly changed from purity to impurity--from a
healthful to an infectious state. Were it so, the change, being more
perceptible, would be seen and _felt_ too, and a _remedy_ would be
sought and applied. But because the change is gradual, it is not the
less fearful in its consequences. In a room occupied by _forty-five
persons_, THE FIRST MINUTE, _thirty-two thousand four hundred cubic
inches of air impart their entire vitality to sustain animal life, and,
mingling with the atmosphere of the room, proportionately deteriorate
the whole mass_. Thus are abundantly sown in early life the fruitful
seeds of disease and premature death.
This detail shows conclusively sufficient cause for that uneasy,
listless state of feeling which is so prevalent in crowded school-rooms.
It explains why children that are amiable at home are mischievous in
school, and why those that are troublesome at home are frequently
well-nigh uncontrollable in school. It discloses the true cause why so
many teachers who are justly considered both pleasant and amiable in the
ordinary domestic and social relations, are obnoxious in the
school-room, being there habitually sour and fretful. The ever-active
children are disqualified for study, and engage in mischief as their
only alternative. On the other hand, the irritable teacher, who can
hardly look with complaisance upon good behavior, is disposed to magnify
the most trifling departure from the rules of propriety. The scholars
are continually becoming more ungovernable, and the teacher more unfit
to govern them. Week after week they become less and less attached to
him, and he, in turn, becomes less interested in them.
This detail explains, also, why so many children are unable to attend
school at all, or become unwell so soon after commencing to attend, when
their health is sufficient to engage in other pursuits. The number of
scholars answering this description is greater than most persons are
aware of. In one district that I visited a few years ago in the State of
New York, it was acknowledged by competent judges to be emphatically
true in the case of not less than _twenty-five scholars_. Indeed, in
that same district, the health of more than _one hundred_ scholars was
materially injured every year in consequence of occupying an old and
partially-decayed house, of too narrow dimensions, with very limited
facilities for ventilation. The evil, even after the cause was made
known, was suffered to exist for years, although the district was worth
more than three hundred thousand dollars. And what _was_ true[13] of
this school, is now, with a few variations, true in the case of scores,
if not hundreds of schools with which I am acquainted, from far-famed
New England to the Valley of the Mississippi.
[13] In the district referred to there has since been erected a large
and commodious union school house, which constitutes at once the pride
and ornament of a beautiful and flourishing village.
This detail likewise explains why the business of teaching has acquired,
and _justly too_, the reputation of being unhealthy. There is, however,
no reason why the health of either teacher or pupils should sooner fail
in a well-regulated school, taught in a house properly constructed, and
suitably warmed and ventilated, than in almost any other business. If
this statement were not true, an unanswerable argument might be framed
against the very _existence_ of schools; and it might clearly be shown
that it is _policy_, nay, DUTY, to close at once and forever the four
thousand school-houses of Michigan, and the hundred thousand of the
nation, and leave the rising generation to perish for lack of knowledge.
But our condition in this respect is not hopeless. The evil in question
may be effectually remedied by enlarging the house, or, which is easier,
cheaper, and more effectual, by frequent and thorough ventilation. It
would be well, however, to unite the two methods.
In the winter of 1841-2, I visited a school in which the magnitude of
the evil under consideration was clearly developed. Five of the citizens
of the district attended me in my visit to the school. We arrived at the
school-house about the middle of the afternoon. It was a close, new
house, eighteen by twenty-four feet on the ground--two feet less in one
of its dimensions than the house concerning which the preceding
calculation is made. There were present forty-three scholars, the
teacher, five patrons, and myself, making fifty in all. Immediately
after entering the school-house, one of the trustees remarked to me, "I
believe our school-house is too tight to be healthy." I made no reply,
but secretly resolved that I would sacrifice my comfort for the
remainder of the afternoon, and hazard my health, and my life even, to
test the accuracy of the opinions I had entertained on this important
subject. I marked the uneasiness and dullness of all present, and
especially of the patrons, who had been accustomed to breathe a purer
atmosphere. School continued an hour and a half, at the close of which I
was invited to make some remarks. I arose to do so, but was unable to
proceed till I opened the outer door, and snuffed a few times the purer
air without. When I had partially recovered my wonted vigor, I observed
with delight the renovating influence of the current of air that entered
the door, mingling with and gradually displacing the fluid poison that
filled the room, and was about to do the work of death. It seemed as
though I was standing at the mouth of a huge sepulcher, in which the
dead were being restored to life. After a short pause, I proceeded with
a few remarks, chiefly, however, on the subject of respiration and
ventilation. The trustees, who had just tested their accuracy and
bearing upon their comfort and health, resolved immediately to provide
for ventilation according to the suggestions in the article on
school-houses in the last chapter of this work.
Before leaving the house on that occasion, I was informed an evening
meeting had been attended there the preceding week, which they were
obliged to dismiss before the ordinary exercises were concluded,
because, as they said, "We all got sick, and the candles went almost
out." Little did they realize, probably, that the light of life became
just as nearly extinct as did the candles. Had they remained there a
little longer, both would have gone out together, and there would have
been reacted the memorable tragedy of the _Black Hole_ in Calcutta, into
which were thrust a garrison of one hundred and forty-six persons, one
hundred and twenty-three of whom perished miserably in a few hours,
being suffocated by the confined air.
What has been said in the preceding pages on the philosophy of
respiration was first given to the public nearly ten years ago, in a
report of the author's in the State of New York. He has since seen the
same sentiments inculcated by many of our most eminent practical
educators, some of whom had written upon the subject at an earlier date.
Allen and Pepy showed by experiment that air which has been once
breathed contains eight and a half per cent. of carbonic acid, and that
no continuance of the respiration of the same air could make it take up
more than ten per cent. Air, then, when once respired, has taken up more
than _four fifths_ of the amount of this noxious gas that it can be made
to by any number of breathings.
Dr. Clark, in his work on Consumption, remarks as follows: "Were I to
select two circumstances which influence the health, especially during
the growth of the body, more than others, and concerning which the
public, ignorant at present, ought to be well informed, they would be
the proper adaptation of food to difference of age and constitution, and
the constant supply of pure air for respiration." Dr. William A. Alcott,
who has given especial attention to this subject, after quoting the
preceding remark of Dr. Clark, adds: "We believe this is the opinion of
all medical men who have studied the constitution of man, and its
relation to outward objects."
A distinguished surgeon[14] of Leeds, England, goes somewhat further in
praising pure air than most of his contemporaries. "Be it remembered,"
says he, "that man subsists more upon air than upon his food and
drink." There is some novelty in this remark, I admit: but is it not
truthful? Men have been known to live _three weeks_ without eating. But
exclude the atmospheric air from the lungs for the space of _three
minutes_, and death generally ensues. We thus see that life will
continue with abstinence from food three thousand times as long as it is
safe to protract an atmospheric fast.
[14] Dr. Thackrah, author of a most valuable work on the "Effects of
Employments on the Health and Longevity of Mankind."
Let us take another view of the subject. Men usually eat _three times_
in twenty-four hours. This is all that is necessary to, or compatible
with, the enjoyment of uninterrupted good health. But we involuntarily
breathe nearly _thirty thousand times_ in the same length of time. We
need, then, fresh supplies of pure air ten thousand times as often as it
is necessary to partake of meals. Is it not apparent, then, that _man
subsists more upon_ AIR _than upon his_ FOOD _and_ DRINK?
The atmosphere which we so frequently inhale, and upon which our
well-being so much depends, surrounds the earth to the height of about
forty-five miles. The surface of the earth contains about two hundred
millions of square miles, and it is estimated that there dwell upon it
eight hundred millions of inhabitants. This gives to each individual
about eleven cubic miles of air. But the air is breathed by the inferior
animals as well as by man. It is also rendered impure by combustion. If
by both of these causes ten times as much air is consumed as by man,
there is still left one cubic mile of uncontaminated atmospheric air to
every human being dwelling upon the surface of the earth. This would
allow him to live more than twice the age allotted to man, without
breathing any portion of the atmosphere a second time. And still, as if
to avoid the possibility of evil to man on this account, the beneficent
Creator has wisely so ordered, that while we do not interfere with the
laws of Nature, there is not even the possibility of rebreathing
respired air until it has been purified and restored to its natural and
healthful state; for carbonic acid, the vitiating product of
respiration, although immediately _fatal_ to _animals_, constitutes the
very _life_ of _vegetation_. When brought in contact with the upper
surface of the green leaves of trees and plants, and acted upon by the
direct solar rays, this gas is decomposed, and its carbon is absorbed to
sustain, in part, the life of the plant, by affording it one element of
its food, while the oxygen is liberated and restored to the atmosphere.
Vegetables and animals are thus perpetually interchanging kindly
offices, and each flourishes upon that which is fatal to the other. It
is in this way that the healthful state of the atmosphere is kept up.
Its equilibrium seems never to be disturbed, or, if disturbed at all, it
is immediately restored by the mutual exchange of poison for aliment,
which is constantly going on between the animal and vegetable worlds.
This interchange of kindly offices is constantly going on all over the
earth, even in the highest latitudes, and in the very depths of winter;
for air which has been respired is rarefied, and, when thrown from the
lungs, _ascends_, and is thus not only out of our reach, whereby we are
protected from respiring it a second time, but this (to us) deadly
poison falls into the great aerial current which is constantly flowing
from the polar to the tropical regions, where it is converted into
vegetable growth. The oxygen which is exhaled in the processes of
tropical vegetation, heated and rarefied by the vertical rays of the
sun, mounts to the upper regions of the atmosphere, and, falling into a
returning current, in its appointed time revisits the higher latitudes.
So wisely has the Divine Author ordered these processes, that air, in
its natural state[15] in any part of the world, does not contain more
than _one half of one per cent._ of carbonic acid gas, although, as
already stated, air which has been once respired contains _eight and a
half per cent._ of this gas, which is at least seventeen times its
natural quantity.
[15] It would be difficult to say whether carbonic acid gas is in the
atmosphere constitutionally, or accidentally, or both.--_Dr. Wm. A.
Alcott's Health Tracts._
There are other agencies than carbonic acid gas which in civic life
render the atmosphere impure. Of this nature is carbureted hydrogen gas,
which is produced in various ways. This, says Dr. Comstock, is
immediately destructive to animal life, and will not support combustion.
It exists in stagnant water, especially in warm weather, and is
generated by the decomposition of vegetable products. Dr. Arnott
expresses the conviction that the immediate and chief cause of many of
the diseases which impair the bodily and mental health of the people,
and bring a considerable portion prematurely to the grave, is the poison
of atmospheric impurity, arising from the accumulation in and around
their dwellings of the decomposing remnants of the substances used for
food and in their arts, and of the impurities given out from their own
bodies. If you allow the sources of aerial impurity to exist in or
around dwellings, he continues, you are poisoning the people; and while
many die at early ages of fevers and other acute diseases, the remainder
will have their health impaired and their lives shortened.
There are many instances on record where the progress of an epidemic has
been speedily arrested by ventilation. A striking instance is given by
the writer last quoted. "When I visited Glasgow with Mr. Chadwick," says
he, "there was described to us one vast lodging-house, in connection
with a manufactory there, in which formerly fever constantly prevailed,
but where, by making an opening from the top of each room through a
channel of communication to an air-pump common to all the channels, the
disease had disappeared altogether. The supply of pure air obtained by
that mode of ventilation was sufficient to dilute the cause of the
disease, so that it became powerless."
Sulphureted hydrogen gas is also exceedingly poisonous to the lungs and
to every part of the system. When pure, this gas is described as
instantly fatal to animal life. Even when diluted with fifteen hundred
times its bulk of air, it has been found so poisonous as to destroy a
bird in a few seconds. "This gas," says Dr. Dunglison, in his Elements
of Hygiene, "is extremely deleterious.[16] When respired in a pure state
it kills instantly; and its deadly agency is rapidly exerted when put in
contact with any of the tissues of the body, through which it penetrates
with astonishing rapidity. Even when mixed with a portion of air, it has
proved immediately destructive. Dr. Paris refers to the case of a
chemist of his acquaintance, who was suddenly deprived of sense as he
stood over a pneumatic trough in which he was collecting this gas. From
the experiments of Dupuytren and Thenard, air that contains a thousandth
part of sulphureted hydrogen kills birds immediately. A dog perished in
air containing a hundredth part, and a horse in air containing a
fiftieth part of it."
[16] Sulphureted hydrogen gas is the deleterious agent exhaled from
privies or vaults, which have been so fatal, at times, to night men, who
have been employed to remove or cleanse them.--_Dr. Dunglison._
The preceding are far from being all the causes of atmospheric impurity.
Besides these, there are numerous exhalations, as well as gases, that
are poisonous. Some of these exhalations are more abundant in the
night, and about the time of the morning and evening twilight. "Hence
the importance," says a writer on health, "to those who are feeble, of
avoiding the air at all hours except when the sun is considerably above
the horizon."
Although the atmosphere, in its natural state, is not at all times
perfectly pure, still it is comparatively so, and especially in the
daytime. All, therefore, who would retain and improve their health,
should inhale the open air as much as possible, even though they can
not, like Franklin's Methusalem,[17] be always in it. This remark is
applicable to both sexes, and to every age and condition of life.
[17] Dr. Franklin, in his usual humorous manner, but with his accustomed
gravity, relates, in one of his essays, the following anecdote, for the
purpose, doubtless, of showing the influence of pure air upon health,
happiness, and longevity.
"It is recorded of Methusalem, who, being the longest liver, may be
supposed to have best preserved his health, that he slept always in the
open air; for when he had lived five hundred years, an angel said to
him, Arise, Methusalem, and build thee a house, for thou shalt live yet
five hundred years longer. But Methusalem answered and said, If I am to
live but five hundred years longer, it is not worth while to build me a
house. I will sleep in the air as I have been accustomed to do."
The following, from the pen of an American author[18] who has written
much and well on physical education, is pertinent to the subject under
consideration: "We breathe bad air principally as the production of our
own bodies. Here is the source of a large share of human wo; and to this
point must his attention be particularly directed who would save himself
from disease, and promote, in the highest possible degree, his health
and longevity. We must avoid breathing over the carbonic acid gas
contained in the tight or unventilated rooms in which we labor or
remain for a long time, whether parlors, school-rooms, counting-rooms,
bed-rooms, shops, or factories. The individual who lives most according
to nature--who observes with most care the laws of life and health--must
necessarily throw off much carbonic acid from his lungs, if not from his
skin. It does not follow, however, that because this gas is formed we
are obliged to inhale it. We may change our position, change our
clothing, ventilate our rooms of all sorts, shake up our bed-clothing
often and air our bed, and use clean, loose, and porous clothing by
night and by day. We may thus very effectually guard against injuries
from a very injurious agent.
[18] From Dr. William A. Alcott's Tract on Breathing Bad Air.
"One thing should be remembered in connection with this subject which is
truly encouraging. The more we accustom ourselves to pure air, the more
easily will our lungs and nasal organs detect its presence. He who has
redeemed his senses and restored his lungs to integrity, like him who
has redeemed a conscience once deadened, is so alive to every bad
impression made upon any of these, that he can often detect impurity
around or within him, and thus learn to avoid it. It will scarcely be
possible for such a person long to breathe bad air, or nauseous or
unwholesome effluvia, without knowing it, and learning to avoid the
causes which produce it. Such a person will not neglect long to remove
the impurities which accumulate so readily on the surface of his body,
or suffer himself to use food or drink which induces flatulence, and
thus exposes either his intestines or his lungs, or the lungs of others,
to that most extremely poisonous agent, sulphureted hydrogen gas. Nor
will he be likely to permit the accumulation of filth, liquid or solid,
around or in his dwelling. There are those whose senses will detect a
very small quantity of stagnant water, or vinegar, or other liquids, or
fruit, or changed food in the house, or even the presence of those
semi-putrid substances, wine and cider. But some will indeed say that
such integrity of the senses would be an annoyance rather than a
blessing. On the same principle, however, would a high degree of
conscientiousness in regard to right and wrong in moral conduct be a
curse to us. If it be desirable to have our physical sense of right and
wrong benumbed, it is so to have our moral sense benumbed also. Yet what
person of sense ever complained of too tender a conscience, or too
perfect a sense of right and wrong in morals?"
EXERCISE OF THE LUNGS.--Judicious exercise of the lungs, in the opinion
of that eminent physiologist, Dr. Andrew Combe, is one of the most
efficacious means which can be employed for promoting their development
and warding off their diseases. In this respect the organs of
respiration closely resemble the muscles and all other organized parts.
They are made to be used, and if they are left in habitual inactivity,
their strength and health are unavoidably impaired; while, if their
exercise be ill-timed or excessive, disease will as certainly follow.
The lungs may be exercised _directly_ by the use of the voice in
speaking, reading aloud, or singing, and _indirectly_ by such kinds of
bodily or muscular exertion as require quicker and deeper breathing. In
general, both ought to be conjoined. But where the chief object is to
improve the lungs, those kinds which have a tendency to expand the chest
and call the organs of respiration into play ought to be especially
preferred. Rowing a boat, fencing, quoits, shuttlecock, the proper use
of skipping the rope, dumb-bells, and gymnastics are of this
description, and have been recommended for this purpose. All of them
employ actively the muscles of the chest and trunk, and excite the
lungs themselves to freer and fuller expansion. Climbing up a hill is,
for the same reason, an exercise of high utility in giving tone and
freedom to the pulmonary functions. Where, either from hereditary
predisposition or accidental causes, the chest is unusually weak, every
effort should be made, from infancy upward, to favor the growth and
strength of the lungs, by the habitual use of such of these exercises as
can most easily be practiced. The earlier they are resorted to, and the
more steadily they are pursued, the more certainly will their beneficial
results be experienced.
If the _direct_ exercise of the lungs in practicing deep inspiration,
speaking, reading aloud, and singing, is properly managed and persevered
in, particularly before the frame has become consolidated, it will exert
a very beneficial influence in expanding the chest, and giving tone and
imparting health to the important organs contained in it. As a
preventive measure, Dr. Clark, in his treatise on Consumption and
Scrofula, recommends the full expansion of the chest in the following
manner: "We desire the young person, while standing, to throw his arms
and shoulders back, and, while in this position, to inhale slowly as
much air as he can, and repeat this exercise at short intervals several
times in succession. When this can be done in the open air it is most
desirable, a double advantage being thus obtained from the practice.
Some exercise of this kind should be adopted daily by all young persons,
more especially by those whose chests are narrow or deformed, and should
be slowly and gradually increased."
In this preventive measure recommended by Dr. Clark, some of our most
eminent physiologists heartily concur. They also express the opinion
that, for the same reason, even the crying and sobbing of children,
when not caused by disease, contribute to their future health. Dr. Combe
says, "The loud laugh and noisy exclamations attending the sports of the
young have an evident relation to the same beneficial end, and ought,
therefore, to be encouraged." But beneficial as the direct exercise of
the lungs is thus shown to be, in expanding and strengthening the chest,
its influence extends still further, and, as we have already seen,
contributes greatly to promote the important process of digestion. If,
therefore, the lungs be rarely called into active exercise, not only do
_they_ suffer, but an important aid to digestion being withdrawn, the
_stomach_ and _bowels_ also become weakened, and indigestion and
costiveness ensue.
The exercise of what has not unaptly been called Vocal Gymnastics, and
the loud and distinct speaking enforced in many of our schools, not only
fortify the vocal organs against the attacks of disease, but tend
greatly to promote the general health. For this purpose, also, as well
as for its social and moral influences, vocal music should be introduced
into all our schools. That by these and like exercises deep inspirations
and full expirations are encouraged, any one may become convinced who
will attend to what passes in his own body while reading aloud a single
paragraph.
There is danger of exercising the lungs too much when disease exists in
the chest. At such times, not only speaking, reading aloud, and singing,
but ordinary muscular exertion, ought to be refrained from, or be
regulated by professional advice. When a joint is sore or inflamed, we
know that motion impedes its recovery. When the eye is affected, we, for
a similar reason, shut out the light. So, when the stomach is
disordered, we respect its condition, and are more careful about diet.
The lungs demand a treatment founded on the same general principle. When
inflamed, they should be exercised as little as possible. All violent
exercise ought, therefore, to be refrained from during at least the
active stages of a cold; but colds may often be entirely prevented at
the time of exposure by a proper exercise of the lungs.
In conversing with an eminent physician recently on this subject, he
expressed the conviction that one of the most effectual methods of
warding off a cold, when exposed by wet feet or otherwise, is to take
frequent deep inhalations of air. By this means the carbonic acid, which
the returning circulation deposits in the lungs, is not only more
effectually disengaged, but, at the same time, the greater amount of
oxygen that enters the lungs and combines with the blood quickens the
circulation, and thus, imparting increased vitality to the system,
enables it more effectually to resist any attack that may be induced by
unusual exposure.
A late medical writer, who has become quite celebrated in this country
for the successful treatment of pulmonary consumption,[19] expresses the
opinion that, to the consumptive, air is a most excellent medicine, and
"far more valuable than all other remedies." He thinks it "the grand
agent in expanding the chest." In urging the importance of habitually
maintaining an erect position, he expresses the conviction that
"practice will soon make sitting or standing perfectly erect vastly more
agreeable and less fatiguing than a stooping posture." To persons
predisposed to consumption, these hints, he thinks, are of the greatest
importance. While walking, he says, "the chest should be carried proudly
erect and straight, the top of it pointing rather backward than
forward." To illustrate the advantages of habitually maintaining this
position, he refers to the North American Indians, who never had
consumption, and who are remarkable for their perfectly erect posture
while walking. "Next to this," he adds, "it is of vast importance to the
consumptive to breathe well. He should make a practice of taking long
breaths, sucking in all the air he can, and holding it in the chest as
long as possible." He recommends the repetition of this a hundred times
a day, and especially with those who have a slight cold or symptoms of
weak lungs. When practiced in pure cold air, its advantages are most
apparent. To increase the benefits resulting from this practice, he
recommends the use of the "inhaling tube." He thinks that inhaling tubes
made of silver or gold are much better than those made of wood or
India-rubber. In this opinion I fully concur, for I think with him that
gold and silver tubes will not so readily "contract any impure or
poisonous matter." But there is another and a stronger reason why I
prefer _silver_, and especially GOLD inhaling tubes, to those made of
wood or India-rubber. _They would be more highly prized_ and MORE
FREQUENTLY USED.
[19] S. S. Fitch, M.D., author of "Consumption Cured."
The same writer entertains the belief that about one third of all the
consumptions originate from weakness of the abdominal belts. He hence,
in such cases, recommends the use of the "abdominal supporter." In order
to favor an erect posture and an open chest, he also recommends the use
of "shoulder-braces." He says the proper use of these, with other
remedies, will "entirely prevent the possibility of consumption, from
whatever cause." The inhaling-tube, together with the shoulder-braces
and supporter when needed, he says are perfect preventives, and should
not be neglected; for if the shoulders are kept off the chest, and the
abdomen is well supported, and then an inhaling tube is faithfully
used, "the lungs can never become diseased. Any person in this way, who
chooses to take the trouble, can have a large chest and healthy lungs."
When persons have contracted disease they may require these _artificial
helps_; but it should be borne in mind that an all-wise and beneficent
Creator has kindly given to each of his creatures _two inhaling tubes_,
admirably adapted to their wants. He has also furnished them with a set
of _abdominal muscles_ which, when properly used, have generally been
found to supersede the necessity of artificial "supporters." He has,
moreover, in the plenitude of his goodness, furnished each member of the
human family with a good pair of _shoulder-braces_. It should also be
borne in mind that Nature's shoulder-braces _improve by use_, while the
artificial ones not only soon fail, but their very use generally impairs
the healthy action of the natural ones; for these, like all other
muscles, improve by use and become enfeebled by disuse. Parents and
teachers, then, and all who have the care of the young, should encourage
the correct use of Nature's inhaling tubes, shoulder-braces, and
abdominal supporters; for in this way they have it in their power not
only to supersede the necessity of resorting to artificial ones later in
life, but of preventing much of human misery, and contributing to the
permanent elevation of the race.