THE STRONG MAN.
[Sidenote: What strength is.]
The strength of a chain lies in its weakest link, and the measure of
man’s strength is that of the weak point in his constitution. He may
have the frame and muscle of a Sandow, but if he has a faulty valve in
his heart, it is by that, and not by his muscular development, that his
strength must be gauged. Even supposing that every organ in his body is
sound, and he is possessed of great powers of endurance, he cannot be
called strong if he is impairing his digestion by careless habits of
eating and drinking, or endangering his nervous system by habitually
keeping late hours and burning the candle at both ends, or laying up
gout in store for himself by gourmandising or want of exercise.
No matter whether the weak spot be in the man’s own system or in his
mode of life, Nature will find it out as surely as the arrow found the
heel of Achilles. It is on his weak points that he must stand or fall;
it is in these that the strain will manifest itself, in other words,
that the breakdown will appear.
The aim of this book has been to prevent matters ever reaching this
stage, to arrest them at the outset. No sign, of all those I have
indicated as pointing towards a breakdown, should be neglected. The
time to take heed is when any man or woman finds that their powers
of work are failing them, their nerves easily upset, or their minds
assailed by an unreasonable dread of the future, or that in one or
other of various ways they are not the people they were. It is better
to slow down at the first danger signal than to run past one after
another until we are pulled up with a crash.
[Sidenote: Find out the weak points.]
The first thing, therefore, is to find out the weak points; take care
of these, and the strong ones will look after themselves. The man who
taps the wheels of railway carriages does so in order to detect flaws;
he passes by the sound wheels with indifference. And there is a simple
way in which people may find out in which particulars they are going
wrong. If they have taken the trouble to wade through this book, they
may have noticed that certain paragraphs or chapters attracted their
attention. It does not follow that they agreed with them, or thought
them important at the time. It may be that they said (provided they
were of the male gender) that they were “all nonsense,” or that it was
“a precious lot of fuss about nothing.”
It does not matter what they said or thought. The point is that they
said or thought something. For the fact that they did so was proof that
the piece of writing in question forced itself upon their notice, and
must therefore have had some special application to their own case; and
if this has been so, let them pay particular heed to those paragraphs,
or pages or chapters, whichever they may have been.
If the advice given is not in accordance with their own feelings, that
fact does not detract from its value. Many of us, in looking back, have
to acknowledge that most of the warnings and counsels which have proved
of the greatest benefit in the long run, were unpalatable at the time.
They were distasteful simply because we knew in our inmost hearts that
we stood in need of them. Otherwise we should not have paid sufficient
attention to them even to feel any resentment on the subject. There is
a lot of meaning in the saying, “Greater truth, greater libel.”
[Sidenote: Temperament.]
Especially does this apply to the question of exercise and rest. It is
not hard, as a rule, to convince people that they are committing errors
of diet, or getting too little fresh air; but it is very different when
we come to deal with these other matters. Few people like to be told
that they should take more exercise, or rouse themselves to show more
interest in things outside their ordinary routine of work. It sounds
like an accusation of indolence.
Yet such resentment is slight compared with that of the men or
women who have to be warned that they are wasting their energies by
restlessness and worry or lack of recreation. These strenuous natures
are apt to take umbrage at the fact of their work being interfered
with. They do not realise that what we wish is that they may be
enabled to do better work and more of it in the end.
[Sidenote: Man, know thyself.]
When a medical man sees a patient he has to do more than diagnose the
disease. Often it happens that before he can find out what is the
matter, and certainly before he can treat it efficiently, he must
discover what type of man or woman he is dealing with. Any coachman
will tell you that before he can drive a horse well he must get to
know the animal itself. For some are restless and excitable and need
the curb, whilst others are lazy and require the use of the whip. And
for all who wish to guide themselves in matters of health it is of the
first importance that they should know their own temperaments.
It is said that people are always the last to hear any gossip or
scandal about themselves. It is equally true that they are usually
the last to observe any change in their health or dispositions. A
person may be growing thinner, paler, and more tired looking, and yet
be unaware of the fact. Much more does this apply to all the nervous
symptoms and other peculiarities which denote that he is on the
down-grade and gliding towards a breakdown. Yet if any such signs are
pointed out to him by others, either by a medical man or some candid
friend, the best thing he can do is to give full consideration to their
opinion. Let health be preserved while it can. The day may come when it
will be lost never to be regained.
[Sidenote: Adjusting the mind.]
Throughout this book we have laid stress on the influence of the body
on the mind, and the importance of attending to its various functions
in order to keep the nervous system healthy. Yet we must not overlook
the other fact, viz. that we are gifted with a certain, even if
limited, amount of control over the mind itself.
Some writers have told us, and quite rightly too, that we can cultivate
a brighter outlook on the future. We are recommended to persuade
ourselves that there is no season in the whole year so acceptable as
the one that is just commencing--no beauty like that of spring, no
glory like that of summer, no time so welcome as autumn with its dying
splendours. And when winter comes we can look forward to the delights
of the cosy fireside, so much more sociable than the long, garish days
of summer. Instead of which, too many of us dread the heat and the cold
and a good many other things, that are never so bad when they come as
we think they are going to be.
A little calm philosophy undoubtedly goes a long way towards
negotiating many of the difficulties and anxieties with which we are
all confronted at times. Yet it is impossible to acquire a cheerful,
philosophical frame of mind unless the body, with its nervous system
and various organs, is in a healthy condition. After all, the chief
thing is to attend to its requirements.
[Sidenote: The secret of preventing breakdowns.]
When all is said and done, we come back to the elementary rules of
health. It is around these that the whole question of breakdowns
hinges. On the observance of them depend both the prevention and cure
of this condition. If they were always carried out, this dire calamity
would rarely, if ever, happen. When once it has loomed ahead there is
only one thing to be done. The man or woman who sees it threatening
them must retrace their steps and get back to the place where they
took the wrong turning. They must work their way back until they have
regained the health and vigour, which they once enjoyed but forfeited
through their neglect of those laws.
And this needs a vast amount of patience and perseverance. It is
easier to slide down than to climb up again, and people may find
their progress marred by many a set-back. Yet a backward step in an
upward climb does not mean that we have rolled to the bottom of the
hill again. Many a man is discouraged when, after months of patient
striving, he finds one day that his symptoms have returned--his
nervousness, his inability to tackle his work, his feeling of langour
and debility, or whatever else it may be. He thinks that all his
efforts have been of no avail, and that he might as well give up.
He need not lose heart, it is but a temporary lapse. In a few days he
will find himself climbing up once more. And if he holds on bravely he
will one day reach the summit, and enjoy to the full the health and
strength and energy of his earlier years. He will then have obtained
his reward in the possession of that treasure which is greater than
wealth or fame.
We cannot do better than conclude with words penned by a discerning
writer more than two centuries ago:--
“Health is that which makes your meat and drink both savoury and
pleasant. It is that which makes your bed easy and your sleep
refreshing; that revives your strength with the rising sun, and makes
you rejoice to behold the light of another day. Health is that which
fills up the uneven parts of your body, making it plump and comely;
which makes your mind fertile, and preserves the vigour, verdure, and
beauty of your youth. ’Tis that which makes the soul take delight in
her mansion, and adorns your face with glowing colours. Good health
takes no notice of heart, lungs, stomach or nerves. Indeed, it does
not know that there are such things.”
The most wonderful feature of perfect health is its blissful
unconsciousness.
THE END.
_Bristol_: J. W. ARROWSMITH LTD., 11 Quay Street.
Transcriber’s Note
Minor changes to punctuation have been made without comment. Other
changes are:
Page 26 From: the internate organs
To: the internal organs
Page 55 From: It fact, it would be to the benefit
To: In fact, it would be to the benefit
Page 63 From: Some of the most persistent causes of dyspepsia,
To: Some of the most persistent cases of dyspepsia,
Page 176 From: his mental equlibrium,
To: his mental equilibrium,