(_Abridged from Mr. Richards's "Treatise on Nervous Disorders."_)
The generality of people are well aware of the vast importance of exercise;
but few are acquainted with its _modus operandi_, and few avail
themselves so fully as they might of its extensive benefits. The function
of respiration, which endues the blood with its vivifying principle, is
very much influenced by exercise; for our Omniscient Creator has given to
our lungs the same faculty of imbibing nutriment from various kinds of
air, as He has given to the stomach the power of extracting nourishment
from different kinds of aliment; and as the healthy functions of the
stomach depend upon the due performance of certain chemical and mechanical
actions, so do the functions of the lungs depend upon the due performance
of proper exercise.
Man being an animal destined for an active and useful life, Providence has
ordained that sloth shall bring with it its own punishment. He who passes
nearly the whole of his life in the open air, inhaling a salubrious
atmosphere, enjoys health and vigour of body with tranquillity of mind,
and dies at the utmost limit allotted to mortality. He, on the contrary,
who leads an indolent or sedentary life, combining with it excessive
mental exertion, is a martyr to a train of nervous symptoms, which are
extremely annoying. Man was not created for a sedentary or slothful life;
but all his organs and attributes are calculated for an existence of
activity and industry. If therefore we would insure health and comfort,
we must make exercise--to use Dr. Cheyne's expression--a part of our
religion. But this exercise should be _in the open air_, and in such
places as are most free from smoke, or any noxious exhalations; where, in
fact, the air circulates freely, purely, and abundantly. I am continually
told by persons that they take a great deal of exercise, being constantly
on their feet from morning till night; but, upon inquiry, it happens, that
this exercise is not in the open air, but in a crowded apartment, perhaps,
as in a public office, a manufactory, or at a dress maker's, where twenty
or thirty young girls are crammed together from nine o'clock in the
morning till nine at night, or, what is nearly as pernicious, in a house
but thinly inhabited. Exercise this cannot be called; it is the worst
species of labour, entailing upon its victims numerous evils. Good air
is as essential as wholesome food; for the air, by coming into immediate
contact with the blood, enters at once into the constitution. If therefore
the air be bad, every part of the body, whether near the heart or far from
it, must participate in the evil which is produced.
It is on this account that exercise _in the open air_ is so materially
beneficial to digestion. If the blood be not properly prepared by the
action of good air, how can the arteries of the stomach secrete good
gastric juice? Then, we have a mechanical effect besides. By exercise the
circulation of the blood is rendered more energetic and regular. Every
artery, muscle, and gland is excited into action, and the work of
existence goes on with spirit. The muscles press the blood-vessels, and
squeeze the glands, so that none of them can be idle; so that, in short,
every organ thus influenced must be in action. The consequence of all this
is, that every function is well performed. The stomach digests readily,
the liver pours out its bile freely, the bowels act regularly, and much
superfluous heat is thrown out by perspiration. These are all very
important operations, and in proportion to the perfection with which they
are performed will be the health and comfort of the individual.
There is another process accomplished by exercise, which more immediately
concerns the nervous system. "Many people," says Mr. Abernethy, "who are
extremely irritable and hypochondriacal, and are constantly obliged to
take medicines to regulate their bowels while they live an inactive life,
no longer suffer from nervous irritation, or require aperient medicines
when they use exercise to a degree that would be excessive in ordinary
constitutions." This leads us to infer that the superfluous energy of
the nerves is exhausted by the exercise of the body, and that as the
abstraction of blood mitigates inflammations, in like manner does the
abstraction of nervous irritability restore tranquillity to the system.
This of course applies only to a state of high nervous irritation; but
exercise is equally beneficial when the constitution is much weakened, by
producing throughout the whole frame that energetic action which has been
already explained.
A debilitated frame ought never to take so much exercise as to cause
fatigue, neither ought exercise to be taken immediately _before_ nor
immediately _after_ a full meal. Mr. Abernethy's prescription is a very
good one--to rise early and use active exercise _in the open air_, till a
slight degree of fatigue be felt; then to rest one hour, and breakfast.
After this rest three hours, "in order that the energies of the
constitution may be concentrated in the work of digestion;" then take
active exercise again for two hours, rest one, and then dine. After dinner
rest for three hours; and afterwards, in summer, take a gentle stroll,
which, with an hour's rest before supper, will constitute the plan of
exercise for the day. In wet or inclement weather, the exercise may be
taken in the house, the windows being opened, "by walking actively
backwards and forwards, as sailors do on ship-board."
We now come to the consideration of _air_. Pure air is as necessary to
existence as good and wholesome food; perhaps more so; for our food has to
undergo a very elaborate change before it is introduced into the mass of
circulating blood, while the air is received at once into the lungs, and
comes into immediate contact with the blood in that important organ. The
effect of the air upon the blood is this: by thrusting out as it were, all
the noxious properties which it has collected in its passage through the
body, it endues it with the peculiar property of vitality, that is, it
enables it to build up, repair, and excite the different functions and
organs of the body. If therefore this air, which we inhale every instant,
be not pure, the whole mass of blood is very soon contaminated, and the
frame, in some part or other speedily experiences the bad effects. This
will explain to us the almost miraculous benefits which are obtained by
_change of air_, as well as the decided advantages of a free and copious
ventilation. The prejudices against a free circulation of air, especially
in the sick chamber, are productive of great evil. The rule as regards
this is plain and simple: admit as much fresh air as you can; provided it
does not _blow in_ upon you _in a stream_, and provided you are not in a
state of profuse perspiration at the time; for in accordance with the
Spanish proverb--
"If the wind blows on you through a hole
Make your will, and take care of your soul."
but if the _whole of the body be exposed at once_ to a cold atmosphere,
no bad consequences need be anticipated.
A great deal has been said about the necessary quantity of _sleep;_ that
is, how long one ought to indulge in sleeping. This question, like many
others, cannot be reduced to mathematical precision; for much must depend
upon habit, constitution, and the nature and duration of our occupations.
A person in good health, whose mental and physical occupations are not
particularly laborious, will find seven or eight hours' sleep quite
sufficient to refresh his frame. Those whose constitutions are
debilitated, or whose occupations are studious or laborious, require
rather more; but the best rule in all eases is to sleep till you are
refreshed, and then get up. If you feel inclined for a snug nap after
dinner, indulge in it; but do not let it exceed _half an hour;_ if you do,
you will be dull and uncomfortable afterwards, instead of brisk and
lively.
In sleeping, as in eating and drinking, we must consult our habits and
feelings, which are excellent monitors. What says the poet?--
"Preach not to me your musty rules,
Ye drones, that mused in idle cell,
The heart is wiser than the schools,
The senses always reason well."
One particular recommendation I would propose in concluding this subject,
from the observance of which much benefit has been derived--it is to sleep
in a room as large and as airy as possible, and in a bed but little
encumbered with curtains. The lungs must respire during sleep, as well as
at any other time; and it is of great consequence that the air should be
as pure as possible. In summer curtains should not be used at all, and in
winter we should do well without them. In summer every wise man, who can
afford it, will sleep out of town--at any of the villages which are
removed sufficiently from the smoke and impurities of this overgrown
metropolis.
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