ON THE PROPER QUANTITY OF FOOD.
Quantity to be proportioned to the wants of the system--Appetite
indicates these--Cautions in trusting to appetite--General error
in eating too much--Illustrations from Beaumont, Caldwell, Head,
and Abercrombie--Mixtures of food hurtful chiefly as tempting
to excess in quantity--Examples of disease from excess in
servant-girls from the country, dressmakers, &c.--Mischief from
excessive feeding in infancy--Rules for preventing this--Remarks
on the consequences of excess in grown persons--Causes of
confined bowels explained--And necessity of fulfilling the laws
which God has appointed for the regulation of the animal economy
inculcated.
The next important step in the regulation of diet, is to determine the
QUANTITY which ought to be eaten.
To ensure easy digestion and sound health, the quantity of food ought
always to be proportioned to the wants of the system; but this can be
done only by a constant reference to the individual’s constitution
and circumstances, and not by attempting to lay down any standard as
admitting of universal application.
We have seen that, where waste is great and growth active, an abundant
supply of food is required, and that, in accordance with this relation,
it is in such circumstances that the desire for food is most keenly
felt. Generally speaking, appetite is a safe guide as to quantity; but,
in following its dictates, we must take special care neither to eat
so fast as to prevent it from giving timely intimation that we have
had enough, nor to confound the mere gratification of _taste_, or
the yearning of a vacant mind, with the natural craving of unsatisfied
want. Dr Beaumont’s remarks on this subject are characterized by
so much soundness of judgment, that no apology can be required for
soliciting the attention of the reader to the following very pertinent
extract from his work.
“There is no subject of dietetic economy,” says Dr Beaumont, “about
which people err so much, as that which relates to _quantity_.
The medical profession, too, has been accessory to this error, in
giving directions to dyspeptics to eat until a sense of satiety is
felt. Now, this feeling, so essential to be rightly understood,
never supervenes until the invalid has eaten too much, if he have an
appetite, which seldom fails him. Those even who are not otherwise
predisposed to the complaint, frequently induce a diseased state of
the digestive organs by too free indulgence of the appetite. Of this
fact, the medical profession are, generally, not sufficiently aware.
Those who lead sedentary lives, and whose circumstances will permit
of what is called free living, are peculiarly obnoxious to these
complaints. By paying particular attention to their sensations during
the ingestion of their meals, these complaints may be avoided. There
appears to be a sense of perfect intelligence conveyed from the stomach
to the encephalic centre, which, in health, invariably dictates what
quantity of aliment (responding to the sense of hunger and its due
satisfaction) is naturally required for the purposes of life; and
which, if noticed and properly attended to, would prove the most
salutary monitor of health, and effectual preventive of disease. It
is not the sense of _satiety_, for this is beyond the point of
_healthful_ indulgence, and is Nature’s earliest indication of
an _abuse_ and _overburden_ of her powers to replenish the
system. It occurs immediately previous to this, and may be known by the
pleasurable sensation of _perfect satisfaction, ease, and quiescence
of body and mind_. It is when the stomach says _enough_, and is
distinguished from satiety by the difference of the sensations,--the
former feeling _enough_--the latter _too much_. The first is
produced by the timely reception into the stomach of proper aliment,
in exact proportion to the requirements of Nature, for the perfect
digestion of which a definite quantity of gastric juice is furnished
by the proper gastric apparatus. But to effect this most agreeable
of all sensations and conditions--the real Elysian satisfaction of
the _reasonable_ epicure--timely attention must be paid to the
preliminary processes, such as thorough mastication and moderate or
slow deglutition. These are indispensable to the due and natural supply
of the stomach at the stated periods of alimentation; for if food be
swallowed too fast, and pass into the stomach imperfectly masticated,
too much is received in a short time, and in too imperfect a state of
preparation to be disposed of by the gastric juice.”
“The quantity of gastric juice, either contained in its proper vessels
or in a state of preparation in the circulating fluids, is believed
to be in exact proportion to the proper quantity of aliment required
for the due supply of the system. If a more than ordinary quantity of
food be taken, a part of it will remain undissolved in the stomach,
and produce the usual unpleasant symptoms of indigestion. But if the
ingestion of a large quantity be in proportion to the calls of nature,
which sometimes happens after an unusual abstinence, it is probable
that more than the usual supply of gastric juice is furnished; in which
case the apparent excess is in exact ratio to the requirements of the
economy, and never fails to produce a sense of quiescent gratification
and healthful enjoyment. A great deal depends on habit in this respect.
Our Western Indians, who frequently undergo long abstinence from food,
eat enormous quantities when they can procure it, with impunity.”[39]
If the purposes for which eating is necessary be kept in mind, the
keen appetite and vigorous digestion observable in growing youths, and
in those who undergo much active exercise in the open air,--and the
weaker appetite and feebler digestion observed during the middle period
of life, especially in persons of sedentary habits,--will appear to
be in strict harmony with the wants of the system in the respective
circumstances. But from no attention being paid by either the old or
the young to the principle by which the supply of nourishment ought to
be regulated, and the haste with which every one labours to appease
the cravings of hunger, it may be affirmed as a general fact, that
mankind eat greatly more than is required for their sustenance: and
the indigestion thereby induced is a salutary provision of Nature to
prevent the repletion which would otherwise ensue.
Sir Francis Head, in his humorous book entitled _Bubbles from the
Brunnens of Nassau, by an Old Man_, expresses his astonishment at
the “enormous quantity of provisions” which the invalids and sojourners
at these watering places “so placidly consume;” and, after noticing
“the heavy masses which constitute the foundation of the dinner, and
the successive layers of salmon--fowls--puddings--meat again--stewed
fruit--and, lastly, majestic legs of mutton--which form the lighter
superstructure,” he adds: “Nothing which this world affords could
induce me to feed in this gross manner. The pig which lives in his sty
would have some excuse, but it is really quite shocking to see any
other animal overpowering himself at mid-day with such a mixture and
superabundance of food” (p. 71). In another page he returns to the
subject, and quaintly enough remarks, “that almost every malady to
which the human frame is subject is, either by high-ways or by-ways,
connected with the stomach; and I must own, I never see a fashionable
physician mysteriously counting the pulse of a plethoric patient,
or, with a silver spoon on his tongue, importantly looking down his
red inflamed gullet (so properly termed by Johnson ‘the meat-pipe’),
but I feel a desire to exclaim, ‘Why not tell the poor gentleman at
once--Sir, you’ve eaten too much, you’ve drunk too much, and you’ve
not taken exercise enough!’ That these are the main causes of almost
every one’s illness, there can be no greater proof than that those
savage nations which live actively and temperately have only one
great disorder--death. The human frame was not created imperfect--it
is we ourselves who have made it so; _there exists no donkey in
creation so overladen as our stomachs, and it is because they
groan under the weight so cruelly imposed upon them, that we see people
driving them before them in herds to drink at one little brunnen_”
(p. 91–2).
Our supposed “Old Man” is by no means singular in his opinions. The
celebrated Roman physician Baglivi, who, from practising extensively
among Catholics, had ample opportunities of observation, mentions that
in Italy an unusually large proportion of the sick recover during Lent,
in consequence of the lower diet which is then observed as part of the
religious duties. This is a striking fact, and gives unequivocal proof,
not only in favour of temperance, but in evidence of the assertion that
excess in quantity is a prevailing error in society.
Professor Caldwell, of Transylvania University, Kentucky, in one of his
vigorously conceived and very instructive essays, inveighs eloquently
against the intemperance of his countrymen in eating as well as in
drinking, and tells them that one American consumes as much food as two
Highlanders or two Swiss, although the latter are among the stoutest
of the race. “Intemperate eating,” says he, “is perhaps the most
universal fault we commit. We are all guilty of it, not occasionally,
but habitually, and almost uniformly, from the cradle to the grave. It
is the bane alike of our infancy and youth, our maturity and age. It is
infinitely more common than intemperance in drinking; and the aggregate
of the mischief it does is greater. For every reeling drunkard that
disgraces our country, it contains one hundred gluttons--persons, I
mean, who eat to excess and suffer by the practice.” How, indeed, he
afterwards exclaims, can the case be otherwise, while children and
youth are regularly taught, hired, bribed, or tempted, “to overeat
themselves from their birth! Do you ask me for evidence in proof
of this charge? Go to our dining-rooms, nurseries, fruit-shops,
confectionaries, and pleasure-gardens,--go even to sick-rooms,--and you
will find it in abundance. You will witness there innumerable scenes
of gormandizing, not only productive of disease in those concerned in
them, but in many instances offensive to beholders. The frightful mess
often consists of all sorts of eatable materials, that can be collected
and crowded together; and its only measure is the endurance of appetite
and the capacity of the stomach. Like the ox in rich pasture-ground,
or the swine at his swill trough, men stow away their viands until
they have neither desire nor room for any more. I do not say that such
eating matches always and every where occur among us. But I do say
that they occur too frequently, and that they form fit subjects for
caricature pictures, by European tourists, of our domestic manners. I
add, however, that similar scenes present themselves in every country I
have visited, where provisions are abundant and cheap.”[40]
This is a strongly drawn picture, but, with a modification in degree,
it is perhaps not less applicable to our own and other European
countries than to the United States. The “Old Man’s” description of
German feeding is in its main features essentially the same; and, so
far as my observation and experience go, it is only in a less degree
that we fall short of our brethren in America. As a general rule, we
also exceed, though not to the same extent. This is owing partly to our
more advanced civilization, and partly to the greater difficulty of
procuring the means of excess; and if I have resorted to Germany and
the United States for the most striking illustrations of the principle,
it is not from want of examples at home, but because we are so much
more alive to the errors of our neighbours than to our own, that the
principle involved in their commission will be more readily recognised
when pointed out in them, than when its perception is made to imply
condemnation of ourselves.
It is a trite observation, that medical men are constantly exclaiming
against the eating propensities of their patients, and inculcating
the practice of temperance. One of the most eminent physicians of the
present day says, “I believe that every stomach, not actually impaired
by organic disease, will perform its functions if it receive reasonable
attention; and when we consider the manner in which diet is generally
conducted, both in regard to quantity and to the variety of articles of
food and drink which are mixed up into one heterogeneous mass, instead
of being astonished at the prevalence of indigestion, our wonder must
rather be, that, in such circumstances, any stomach is capable of
digesting at all. In the regulation of diet, much certainly is to be
done in dyspeptic cases, by attention to the quality of the articles
that are taken; but I am satisfied that _much more depends upon
the quantity_; and I am even disposed to say, that the dyspeptic
might be almost independent of any attention to the quality of his
diet, if he rigidly observed the necessary restrictions in regard to
quantity.”[41] The latter opinion, which is in perfect harmony with Dr
Beaumont’s observation of the power of digestion being limited by the
amount of gastric juice which the stomach is capable of providing--an
amount varying with the wants of the system, and consequently with the
mode of life--is also forcibly though quaintly supported by a late
popular writer, who affirms that “it is your superfluous SECOND
COURSES”--“(which are served up more to gratify the pride of the
host than the appetite of the guests) that _overcome the stomach_
and _paralyze_ digestion, and seduce children of larger growth to
sacrifice the health and comfort of several days--for the baby-pleasure
of tickling their tongues for a few minutes with trifles and
custards.”[42]
Cornaro, Cheyne, and others, have, most absurdly, attempted to
determine a standard quantity of food for all mankind, and have
fixed it at the lowest possible limit. The very attempt, however, is
inconsistent with the laws of the animal economy; since the supply
required must necessarily vary not only according to the age, sex,
and constitution of the individual, but according to the mode of life
and the circumstances by which he is surrounded: and it would be,
therefore, not less injurious than unnatural for any one to adhere to
the same invariable proportion.
_Mixtures_ of different kinds of food are strongly condemned by
almost all writers on dietetics, as injurious to digestion. They seem
to me, however, to produce mischief much more by the _inducement to
excess in quantity_ which variety affords, than by the mere mixture
of different substances. In a healthy stomach, indigestion is rarely if
ever induced by eating several kinds of food at one meal, provided the
total amount consumed be not beyond the wants of the system, and do not
exceed the due proportion to the quantity of gastric juice which the
stomach is able to provide. When only one dish is partaken of, there is
less temptation to exceed in quantity than where several are tried.
The first intimations of satisfied appetite are unquestionably the best
warning we can have when to stop eating. If we do not go beyond this
point, the subsequent sensations are pleasurable and invigorating, and,
after a brief interval, we are perfectly disposed to return to active
exertion. But, if we eat more than enough, fulness and oppression are
almost immediately experienced, and a considerable time must elapse
before either mind or body can effectually resume its activity.
Where, from long over-indulgence or other causes, the appetite cannot
be safely followed as a guide in regulating the quantity of food, we
shall not err very far if we proportion our meals to the amount of the
preceding exercise. When this has been active and in the open air, and
waste has consequently been considerable, a liberal allowance of food
will be more easily digested than perhaps half the quantity would be
after a week’s inaction. Hence it is a great error to devour the same
quantity of food daily, whatever our mode of life and bodily exertion
may be; because “the strong food which the strong action of strong
bodies requires will soon destroy weak ones--if the latter attempt to
follow the example of the former--instead of feeling invigorated,
their stomachs will be as oppressed as a porter is with a load that is
too heavy for him--and under the idea of swallowing what are called
strengthening nourishing things, will very soon make themselves ready
for the undertaker.”[43] And yet nothing is more common than to see
persons who have passed from a life of varied activity to one of a
purely sedentary nature continue to eat--merely because they have
been accustomed to it--as much food as if they were still engaged
in constant bodily exertion. Many females of the higher and middle
classes, who scarcely ever stir out of doors except to church,
nevertheless make as hearty meals twice or thrice a day as if they
were undergoing pretty severe exertion; but they sooner or later reap
their reward, and after groaning for a time under the burden which they
have placed upon their own shoulders, they either obtain relief by the
forced adoption of a temperate regimen, or “fall into the hands of the
undertaker.”
In towns we often observe the bad effects of over feeding in
young female servants recently arrived from the country. From
being accustomed to constant exercise in the open air, and to the
comparatively innutritious diet on which the labouring classes subsist,
they pass all at once, with appetite, digestion, and health in their
fullest vigour, to the confinement of a house, to the impure atmosphere
of a crowded city, and to a rich and stimulating diet. Appetite, still
keen, is freely indulged; but waste being diminished, while nutrition
is increased, fulness is speedily induced, followed in its turn by
inflammatory disease or fever, which sometimes cuts short life, where,
with better management, health might have been preserved for years.
In many instances, again, life is saved by the digestive powers being
the first to give way, and refusing either to receive or to concoct
the same quantity of aliment as before, and the patient then escapes
with the minor evils of protracted indigestion. This latter result
ensued in an instructive case mentioned by Heidler, where a moderate
acquaintance with the laws of the animal economy might have saved
months of suffering, and even of danger, to the patient.--“A young
woman of a healthy constitution, brought up in all the simplicity of
country habits, passed at once, on her marriage, to a _less active mode
of life_, and to a _much more elegant table_. In a short time she began
to complain of irritability, lassitude, various spasmodic sensations,
and habitual constipation. Hypochondria was soon added to the other
symptoms; her hope of becoming a mother being always deceived, an
additional glass of wine, bark, and other tonics, were ordered. The
evil increased. The patient became melancholic, and believed that she
was always swallowing pins. In the course of the year, she became
so emaciated and yellow, that her mother, who had not seen her for
eleven months, could scarcely recognise her. After an eighteen months’
course of purgatives, and two courses of Marienbad-water, she entirely
recovered.”[44] If the medical adviser first consulted in this case had
possessed the slightest acquaintance with the principle I have been
explaining, he would no more have regarded wine and tonics as the best
remedies for the oppressive languor of excessive feeding, than he
would have sought to extinguish a flame by pouring oil into the fire.
The operation of the same principle is equally conspicuous in girls
sent from the country to the workrooms of fashionable milliners and
dressmakers in the larger towns. Transferred at once from activity in
the open air to confinement all day, and often to a late hour at night,
at a sedentary occupation, where there is scarcely even the means of
changing their position, and much less of enjoying active muscular
exercise, and where, consequently, there is little waste, the digestive
powers speedily give way, because less food is now required to repair
the diminished loss. If the individual adapts her eating to her change
of circumstances, she may escape severe disease; but if, as generally
happens, from pure ignorance, she continues to eat to the same extent
as before, head-achs, sickness, bilious disorder, and indigestion will
be among the smallest of her evils, and she will have reason to be
thankful if she does not become the victim of confirmed bad health.
In establishments of this description, the provision of the means of
exercise even by dumb-bells, shuttlecock, or otherwise, in a large room
with open windows for a few minutes several times a-day, would not
only prevent much suffering, but even repay itself in an economical
point of view, by producing an increased aptitude for work, and less
frequent absence on account of illness. In these days of wide-spreading
philanthropy, considerations of this kind ought to be more attended to.
The necessity of proportioning the supply of food to the expenditure
incurred and to the mode of life, is still further illustrated in the
case of individuals changing from an agricultural or other employment
carried on in the open air in the country, and involving no very great
bodily labour, to one of a mechanical kind carried on in an impure
atmosphere in a city, and requiring severe and continued muscular
exertion. It is a matter of experience, for example, that the stout
young men from the country, who are generally selected as apprentices
for the laborious occupation of letter-press printing, almost uniformly
break down during the first ten or twelve months, and it is only after
some years’ training that they are able to withstand the fatigue. The
vitiated atmosphere in which they work has some share in producing this
result, but the chief cause is undoubtedly the inadequacy of their
ordinary diet to repair the great expenditure of muscular energy to
which they are habitually subjected, and for which they have not been
previously prepared. In the office where this volume is printed, four
strong and healthy lads were engaged in the summer of 1835 as pressmen,
and put to work along with an equal number of experienced men. Before
the following February every one of the former had been laid up from
sickness for weeks, although the whole of them are of the most sober
and steady habits; while not one of the older and more experienced
men felt any inconvenience from his exertions. This very instructive
fact is also deserving of attention, as corroborating what I have
elsewhere said in regard to the necessity of proper management during
the period of transition from youth to manhood--a period during two or
three years of which more good or more mischief may be done to the
human constitution than during almost any other ten years of life.[45]
That, in times past, pressmen have suffered at least as much from their
own mismanagement as from the nature of their employment, is rendered
probable by their proverbial dissipation. In utter ignorance of the
structure and laws of the animal economy, they not unnaturally sought
to relieve the exhaustion under which they suffered, by the stimulus of
spirituous and other intoxicating liquors, instead of seeking it--where
only it can be effectually obtained, and at a cheaper rate--in a more
wholesome and nourishing diet. It is gratifying to perceive, however,
that in this, as in many other trades, the progress of knowledge is
already leading to the prevalence of more rational ideas, and to the
consequent formation of better habits.
There is no period of life during which it is of greater importance
to follow the intentions of Nature in the regulation of diet, both as
to quantity and quality, than during the earliest part of childhood;
for at no period is the neglect of them more fatal. Surprise is
sometimes expressed at the number of children who are carried off
before completing their first or second year; but when we consider the
defective education and entire ignorance of the human economy, not
only of the nurses and servants to whose care the young are entrusted,
but of the parents themselves, our wonder ought to become greater
that so many survive than that so many die. There is perhaps not one
mother in ten thousand, who, before becoming such, has ever inquired
into the nature and wants of the newly born infant, or knows on what
principles its treatment ought to be directed; and hence the hurtful
and superstitious notions of the human economy which still linger in
the nursery, long after they have ceased to prevail in the world of
science.
Those whose opportunities of observation have been extensive will agree
with me in opinion, that nearly one-half of the deaths occurring during
the first two years of existence are ascribable to mismanagement and to
errors in diet. At birth the stomach is feeble and as yet unaccustomed
to food. Its cravings are consequently easily satisfied, and frequently
renewed. A healthy infant seeks the breast with avidity, but sucks
little at a time. It leaves an interval for thoroughly digesting the
little which it has swallowed; after which its appetite revives, and a
fresh supply is demanded in language which no mother can misinterpret.
During the first months, appetite ought to be the mother’s guide in
offering the breast; and if she know how to read the expression of her
infant aright, she will want no other. At that early age there ought
to be no fixed time for giving nourishment. The stomach cannot be thus
satisfied. In one child digestion may be slow, and the interval be
consequently too short; in another it may be quick, and the interval
too long. But the active call of the infant is a sign which needs never
be mistaken, and none else ought to be listened to.
Many mothers consider every expression of uneasiness as an indication
of appetite, and whenever a child cries they offer it the breast
again, although ten minutes may not have elapsed since its preceding
repast. Nothing can be more injurious than this custom. It overloads
and oppresses the stomach,--excites griping and bowel-complaints,
restlessness and fever,--and not unfrequently leads to fatal disease in
the brain. It does harm also by withdrawing the mother’s notice from
the real source of uneasiness.
It is astonishing, indeed, with what exclusiveness of understanding,
eating is regarded even by intelligent parents as the grand
_solatium_ or _panacea_ for all the pains and troubles which
afflict the young. If a child falls over a stone and bruises its leg,
its cries are immediately arrested by a sugar-biscuit stuffed into its
open mouth. If its temper is discomposed by the loss of a toy, it is
forthwith soothed by an offer of sweetmeats, the ultimate effect of
which is to excite colicky pains in its bowels, which are worse than
the original evil, and for which, in their turn, it is presented with
“nice peppermint drops,” or some other equally pleasant antidote.
Because the mouth is open when the child is crying, and the mouth leads
to the stomach, parents jump to the conclusion that it is open for the
purpose of being filled, and proceed to cram it accordingly; forgetting
all the while that the mouth leads also to the windpipe, and may be
open for the admission of air to the lungs as well as of food to the
stomach,--and that if they stuff it with cake or pudding when it is
open only for the reception of air, they run the risk of suffocating
the little innocent when their only wish is to soothe him. Every body
must have seen fits of convulsive cough induced by fragments of food
being drawn into the windpipe in such circumstances.
To confound crying and the expression of pain with the cravings of
hunger, is far from being a matter of indifference to the child. If
food be given when it wishes only to be relieved from suffering, the
offending cause is left in activity, and its effects are aggravated
by the additional ill-timed distention of its stomach. But so far is
this important truth from being sufficiently impressed on the minds
of parents and nurses, that nothing is more common, when the infant
refuses to swallow more but still continues to cry, than to toss it
in the nurse’s arms, as if on purpose to shake down its food, and
then resume the feeding. And in such attempts, it is too true that
the perseverance of the nurse often gets the better of the child, and
forces it at last to receive the food at which it really loathes.
“Let appetite, then, be the only rule, but allow it to appear, and do
not attempt to provoke it. The breast ought not to be offered to the
infant; it is for him to seek it. He has little need of sucking who
takes it with indifference, or as if he were conferring a favour. He
who is hungry acts very differently; all his gestures express clearly
the want and the desire; his eye follows his nurse, and tries to
interpret her every movement. If he is crying, his cries cease at her
approach, and smiles replace his tears. If he is offered the breast,
he seizes it with ardour, and the mother yields to a natural want.”
But it is far otherwise when real appetite is wanting, and “it then
becomes an act of cruel perfidy to tempt the infant by the offer of the
breast. How can it be expected to resist the temptation, when the adult
whose appetite is already satisfied at the festive board, yields to the
solicitations of the host, and gorges himself with aliments which he
cannot digest?”[46]
The same intelligent author remarks, that the lower animals
instinctively avoid this error, and, instead of offering suck too
often, rather allow themselves to be strongly solicited before yielding
to the wishes of their young. By this provident arrangement, the latter
are protected from the evils of too frequent eating. Many mothers
imagine that milk is so bland a fluid that it is impossible for an
infant to take too much of it; but the fallacy of the notion is exposed
when we recollect that milk is coagulated the moment it reaches the
stomach, and that the real subject of digestion is _curd_--a
substance not quite so light as milk has the appearance of being.
The grand rule, then, during the early months of infancy, is to satisfy
the clearly indicated and ascertained wants of the child, but neither
to confine it to regular hours, nor to offer it food when it is crying
solely from pain and not from hunger. When the system has become
more developed, and the stomach accustomed to the exercise of its
functions, regularity in the distribution of its meals may be gradually
and beneficially introduced; because, in the animal economy, there
is a natural tendency to periodicity, which greatly facilitates the
formation of proper habits.
From the sudden change attending the introduction of the infant into
the world, the many new sensations which it begins to feel, and the
non-secretion of milk in the mother’s breasts for some hours after
delivery, it seems to have been intended by Nature that both parent
and child should have some time for repose before a supply of food
should be required by the one or furnished by the other. But, through
pure ignorance and mistaken kindness, many nurses, imagining themselves
wiser than Nature, and conceiving that the newly-born infant must
of necessity be starving after what they consider a nine months’
fast, hasten to fill its stomach with gruel, or some other food. Not
unfrequently, severe indigestion is thus induced at the very outset,
which in a delicate child may be sufficient to lay the foundation of
much suffering and bad health.
On the general principle, that no physical want ever exists without
the means of supplying it having been provided by Nature, we may
safely infer that, in ordinary cases, the secretion of milk will be
begun before the infant can possibly require it; and to counteract
this arrangement, is to set ourselves up in direct opposition to the
Creator, and to give a species of food for which the stomach is not
then adapted.
It is true that, in the artificial state of society in which we live,
the secretion of milk is sometimes delayed so long as to endanger the
welfare of the child. In such cases, it may be necessary to give a few
tea-spoonfuls of fresh cow’s milk diluted with water, as a temporary
substitute for its natural food; but this ought to be only when the
necessity is obvious, and in very small quantity at a time, otherwise
the stomach and bowels will to a certainty suffer.
One evil result of the ignorance of the animal economy which prevails
in society, is a habitual distrust of, or want of faith in, the
efficiency of the laws which God has appointed for the regulation of
the animal functions. We cannot rest satisfied with discovering and
yielding obedience to His designs, but we also must do something to
assist or _correct_ them! At birth, for example, the stomach and
bowels, never having been used for the purposes of digestion, contain
a quantity of mucous secretion--_meconium_--which requires to be
removed before they can enter upon their functions. To effect this
object, Nature has rendered the first portions of the mother’s milk
purposely watery and laxative; and, on the part of the infant, nothing
farther is required than to allow it to follow its natural instinct
and suck it in. Nurses, however, distrusting Nature, often hasten to
administer castor oil or some other active purgative in preference, and
the result is the excitement of irritation in the stomach and bowels,
which is not always easily subdued. If the young of the lower animals
were treated after the same unnatural fashion, it can scarcely be
doubted that the mortality among them also would be greatly increased.
That the prevalence of over-eating is a general error in society,
especially among the sedentary classes, is strongly presumable,
even without direct proof, from two almost characteristic
circumstances,--namely, the frequency of indigestion in one or other
of its numerous forms, and the almost universal use of purgative
medicines, with a view to remove from the system the superfluous
materials which have been poured into it without any natural demand.
It is perfectly certain that, in the natural state of man, the bowels
are quite able to act regularly without the aid of laxatives. If they
are not, the Creator must have failed in accomplishing his aim--a
conclusion which no rational mind can arrive at. If, on the other
hand, they are intended and constituted to act without external aid,
it necessarily follows that a wide departure from the order of nature
must have taken place somewhere, to produce the inactivity which is
now so generally complained of, especially among the middle and higher
classes, and among females. On the principle we have laid down, of
nourishment requiring to be proportioned to waste, it will not be
difficult to explain in what this departure consists. It is in the
mode of life being by far too sedentary to admit either of the natural
waste, which alone renders nourishment necessary, taking place, or of
that constantly recurring contraction and relaxation of the abdominal
and respiratory muscles, which have been pointed out as aiding so
effectually the peristaltic motions of the intestinal canal. If, in
conformity with the diminished wants of the system, we reduce the
quantity of food and increase the exercise, neither the oppression of
repletion nor the need of opening medicine will be felt. But if, along
with diminished exhalation and diminished muscular action, we persevere
in eating copiously of nutritious aliments, either digestion must fail,
the system become too full, or some artificial stimulus be given to aid
the bowels in expelling its superfluous aliment.
Such, accordingly, are the results observable in every-day life. One
is saved for a time from more serious evils by his stomach becoming
enfeebled, and refusing to digest the excess of nourishment which it
receives. In another, whose digestion is more vigorous, the system
becomes full and excited to the brink of active or inflammatory
disease, a sudden attack of which hurries him to the tomb. While a
third gets rid of the load by stimulating the bowels to higher action
than is natural to the mode of life: in other words, artificial waste
is excited by purgatives, to supply the place of that which ought
to result from the active use of the bodily powers, and which alone
renders a full diet proper or safe.
It is not enough, then, to sit by the fire, blame Nature, and lament
over our unfortunate constitution, which obliges us to make such
constant use of medicine. In the great majority of instances, Nature
is more willing to do her part than we are to do ours, and all that
she requires of us is to fulfil those conditions without which she
is powerless, and we are sufferers and unhappy. If we exercise our
minds and bodies in healthful occupation, and seek to inhale the pure
atmosphere which God has spread around us, so as to impart that gentle
impulse to the stomach and bowels which I have already described as
necessary to their action, we shall have no need of laxatives to assist
them. But if we choose to neglect His laws and to live in bodily
inaction within doors, and thus deprive the bowels of all natural aid,
let us at least take the blame to ourselves, and not unjustly throw
it upon the Ruler whose injunctions we thus practically despise. And
if, while leading this inactive life, we continue to gratify taste
by eating much more than waste requires, and thus stand in need of
purgatives to enable us to throw off the load, let us at least be
just, and, instead of lamenting over a defective constitution, let us
deplore the ignorance which has hitherto blinded us to the perception
of the truth, and led us to blame a Being whose arrangements are so
evidently intended for our happiness.
During the active years of childhood and youth, when a strong instinct
impels to much locomotion in the open air, how rarely do we find the
stimulus of purgatives necessary to the proper action of the bowels,
except after errors in diet, or some unusual accident! And what is it
that induces imperfect activity in later years, if not the change in
the habits, occupations, and mode of life? If the lively and bounding
girl, whose loose and unconstrained attire admits of the freest motion
and fullest respiration, passes in a few months from the exuberant and
playful indulgence of her feelings, intellect, and muscular system, to
the quiet and composed inaction and confined dress of a sedate young
lady, who never walks out, except at a measured pace to school or to
church, is it really wonderful that, with an undiminished diet, her
stomach and bowels should begin to act with less vigour, and that,
in time, her constitution should be so far impaired as to render
necessary the constant use of laxatives? The stomach and bowels,
in fact, are regarded very much as if they were independent powers
residing within us, and placed there purposely for our molestation.
So many heavy charges are continually brought against them that they
can scarcely ever be found in the right. They are blamed for every act
of mischief which cannot be clearly proved against another organ; and
yet, influential as they are in effecting our comfort, they are treated
by us with very little care or ceremony. Their powers and wishes are
consulted in nothing, but their backs are loaded, at the caprice of
their owners, worse, as Sir F. Head observes, than any pack-horse;
nevertheless we abuse them most emphatically when they sink to the
earth overwhelmed by the weight imposed on them. They are, in short,
the scape-goats which must bear all our physiological delinquencies,
and save us the pain of blaming ourselves. If they feel uneasy after
a heavy meal, it is not _we_ who are to blame for having eaten
it. No! it is the _fish_ which lies heavy on the stomach, or
the stomach which is unfortunately at war with soup, or potatoes, or
some other well-relished article. _We_ have nothing to do with
the mischief, except as meek and resigned sufferers. _We_ never
eat more than enough. _We_ never devour lobsters, or oysters,
or salmon, or cheese, or any thing which experience has told us our
enfeebled stomachs cannot digest! We are too prudent and self-denying
for that. And yet, somehow or another, our stomachs get hold of all
these things in spite of us, and we must pay the same penalty as if
we had eaten them deliberately, and with malice prepense! The case is
hard, no doubt, that we cannot lead indolent and slothful lives, and
yet enjoy the incompatible luxury of having the appetite of a rustic
and the digestion of a tiger:--but since we are so unfortunately
constituted that we must act like rational creatures or suffer the
penalty, would it not be a wise proceeding to set a better watch on the
stomach, and try to subject it to more effectual control?
* * * * *
In mature and middle age, after the effervescence and boisterous
activity of youth are over, still greater caution than before becomes
requisite. Growth no longer goes on, and nourishment is needed merely
to supply waste; and, accordingly, the appetite becomes less keen, and
the power of digestion less intense. If the individual continues from
habit to eat as heartily as before, even after changing to a sedentary
mode of life, the natural vigour of the digestive system may enable it
to withstand the excess for a time, but ultimately dyspepsia, or some
form of disease dependent on indigestion, will certainly ensue. The
attempt to combine the appetite and digestive power of early youth with
the altered circumstances and comparative inactivity of mature age, is
the true source of the multitude of bilious complaints, sick-headachs,
and other analogous ailments, now so common and so fashionable in
civilized society; and they will never be got rid of so long as their
exciting causes are allowed to operate with unrestricted freedom.
The stomach, like every other organ of the body, is, for the wisest
purposes, allowed a certain range, within which it may exercise its
functions without injury to health; and it is only in virtue of such a
power that it can adapt itself to the different circumstances in which
an individual may be placed. If every trifling change in the quantity
or quality of food were to be followed by mischievous consequences, no
one could retain health for a single day; and if the stomach had no
power of partially adapting itself to a particular kind of aliment,
every change of place and of climate must soon have been attended by
the loss of health and life; because there are scarcely any two places
or countries in which precisely the same food would be set before us.
According to this law of adaptation, which, of course, has its limits,
the stomach may be accustomed to the reception of either a larger or
a smaller quantity of food than what the necessities of the system
require. If it is accustomed to too much, and less than usual be
allowed, an unpleasant feeling of vacuity will arise, accompanied by
a craving for more; but after a few days the unpleasant sensation
will disappear, and the feeling of satisfaction be as great as if a
full meal had been taken, and digestion will become more healthy and
vigorous; whereas, if more food continues to be taken than what the
system requires, merely to gratify the temporary craving, ultimate bad
health will be the inevitable result.
This is precisely the error which is generally fallen into. The stomach
is accustomed during youth to receive and digest a larger quantity
of food than what is requisite to carry on growth and repair the
ordinary waste of the system; and from custom, _not from want_, we
continue to fill it as liberally after growth is completed and waste is
diminished, as we did before, when both were at their height. And if by
any chance we eat less for a day or two, we mistake the temporary sense
of emptiness for the indications of appetite, and are not satisfied
till it is removed. The natural consequence is, that we educate the
stomach to demand more food than the system requires, and more than it
can itself continue to digest; and hence the numerous evils which we
daily witness as fruits of indigestion.
In thus punishing us with the pangs of indigestion as a warning to
more reasonable conduct, Providence displays the purest beneficence.
To place this in a clear point of view, let us suppose digestion to
continue perfect, notwithstanding the daily reception of an excess of
food into the stomach, the result would necessarily be the regular
formation of an undue quantity of chyle; this, in its turn, would
produce an excess of blood throughout the whole system; and the
individual would thus exist with all his functions in a state of
constant oppression, and in continual danger of the rupture of a
bloodvessel, till, from mere fulness, some active disease would be
excited, requiring the instant and vigorous use of the lancet for its
relief, or very probably cutting short life. If, then, man cannot
restrain his appetites, and effectually subject them to the control
of reason, another check against continued aberration is required,
and, fortunately for us, it is to be found in the refusal of the
stomach to continue to digest much more than the quantity demanded by
the wants of the body. In practical life we meet, in fact, with both
results. There are some persons constituted with such vigorous powers
of digestion that no quantity of food oppresses their stomachs. If they
eat habitually more than what is required to supply waste and sustain
the system, they speedily suffer from repletion, or some one or other
of the diseases arising out of its existence, such as inflammation,
apoplexy, rupture of bloodvessels, enlargement of the heart, or morbid
growth in some organ of the body. In the greater number, however, of
those who exceed in quantity, the stomach itself becomes enfeebled
by the over-exertion to which it is subjected, just as the muscles
do from excess of labour; and the consequence is impaired digestion,
which prevents the food from being duly converted into chyle, and thus
protects the system from the fulness which would otherwise be induced.
Accordingly, it is a familiar truth, that those who eat most are not
always the best nourished,--and that, on the contrary, the stoutest men
are often those who eat comparatively little.
It is therefore of great importance to be able to read aright the
instructions of Nature, and to act in conformity with their meaning.
In practical benefit to ourselves it will make a great difference
whether we regard indigestion as merely an accidental and capricious
occurrence unconnected with conduct, or as purposely meant to warn us
from continuing to act against laws instituted to secure our wellbeing
and happiness. In the former case, we may go on unsuspectingly in the
road to destruction till it is no longer in our power to turn back;
whereas, in the latter, we cannot feel a single pang of indignation
without being reminded of some aberration from the path of duty, and
seeking to return by the shortest way. It is too true that, even when
aware that we are going wrong, we do not always choose to retrace our
steps; but it is not less true, that we shall be more likely to fulfil
the laws of Nature when we are made acquainted with their existence
and intention, than when left to the guidance of ignorance alone. It
must be observed also, that hitherto mankind have not been taught the
requisite knowledge till after their habits of action were formed; and
therefore no inference can be drawn from their conduct in circumstances
so unpropitious, which can, with any fairness, be held as applicable
to the time when knowledge shall be communicated to the young as an
indispensable part of a useful education.
If over-feeding be the prevailing error among the middle and higher
classes of the community, the opposite condition is as unquestionably
that of a large proportion of the labouring poor. Pressed upon all
sides by the powerful competition both of constantly improving
machinery and of a superabundant population, the manual labourer is
impelled to undergo an amount of ever-recurring bodily exertion which
far exceeds the natural powers of his constitution, even when supported
by the fullest supply of nourishment; and when, as often happens along
with this excess of labour, his food, from inadequate wages, the size
of his family, or his own injudicious management, is defective in
quantity or in quality, the consequences to his health and happiness
are disastrous in the highest degree.
To those who have never reflected on the subject, it may seem like
exaggeration to say, that, as a general fact, at least nine-tenths of
the lower orders suffer physically, morally, and intellectually, from
being over-worked and under-fed; and yet I am convinced that the more
the subject shall be investigated, the more deeply shall we become
impressed with the truth and importance of the statement. It is true
that very few persons die from actual want of food; but it is not less
certain that thousands upon thousands are annually cut off, whose
lives have been greatly shortened by excess of labour and deficiency
of nourishment. It is a rare thing for a hard-working artizan to
arrive at a good old age. They almost all become prematurely old,
and die off long before the natural term of life. It is in this way
that, as remarked by Dr Southwood Smith, the mortality of a country
may be considered as an accurate indication of the misery of its
inhabitants. According to Villermé, the rate of mortality among the
poor is sometimes double that among the rich. Thus it is found, he
says, that in a poor district in France one hundred die, while in a
rich department only fifty are carried off; and that, on taking into
account the whole population of France, a child born to parents in easy
circumstances has the chance of living forty-two and a half years,
while one born of poor parents can look for no more than thirty.[47]
These are striking facts, and their truth is confirmed by every
day’s experience in Britain as well as in France. Many causes
concur to produce this melancholy result, but among the principal
is unquestionably the disproportion so generally existing between
toil and nutrition. In the army the operation of the same principle
has long been recognised in the inferior strength and health of the
privates compared with the officers. The officers, being better fed,
better clothed, and better lodged than the common soldiers, bear up
successfully against fatigue and temporary privations by which the
latter are overwhelmed. During epidemics, too, the poor, from their
impaired stamina, almost invariably become victims in a proportion far
exceeding that of the more wealthy classes. This is, no doubt, partly
owing to their greater intemperance and want of cleanliness; but even
these vices often derive their origin from the same root--the want of
adequate repose and comfortable sustenance.
The bad consequences of defective nourishment are not confined in
their operation to the bodily constitution of the labouring poor.
_Their minds also are deteriorated._ The pressure of poverty is
unfavourable to the growth of refinement and morality, and crime and
turbulence are never so much to be dreaded as during times of scarcity
and manufacturing or agricultural distress. Bodily health, satisfied
appetite, and peace of mind, are great promoters of individual morality
and public tranquillity; and whenever these are encroached upon in any
great class of the community, discontent and crime are sure to follow.
In legislation this principle is seldom attended to, and laws are
consequently enacted merely for the suppression of the result, while
the source from which it springs is left altogether unnoticed and in
the fullest activity.
Among the poorer classes, the children as well as the parents suffer
much both physically and morally from insufficient food. Their diet,
being chiefly of a vegetable nature, and consisting of porridge,
potatoes, and soups, with very little butcher-meat, proves far from
adequate to carry on vigorous growth in the one, or repair waste in
the other; hence arise in the young an imperfect development of the
bodily organization, a corresponding deficiency of mental power,
and a diminished capability of resisting the causes of disease. In
work-houses and other charitable institutions, ample evidence of
these deficiencies obtrudes itself upon our notice, in the weak and
stunted forms and very moderate capacities of the children. Under
an impoverished diet, indeed, the moral and intellectual capacity is
deteriorated as certainly as the bodily; and a full exposition of this
fact, and the principles on which it is founded, would be a great
public benefit.
Even among the children of the wealthier classes, a sufficiency
of nourishing food is not always provided with the care which it
deserves. Both in families and in boarding-schools, it is no uncommon
practice to stint the healthy appetites of the young, or to feed them
with soups and other eatables which contain too little nutriment in
proportion to their bulk. I am acquainted with many instances of this
most injudicious error, and have seen scrofula and severe digestive
affections brought on by persevering in it through sheer ignorance, and
even in the belief that such “temperance” was healthful. Where adequate
exercise is permitted, and the food is plain and nourishing, hurtful
excess in eating will rarely occur, at least in healthy children.