CONSUMPTION.
Among the causes of consumption it is usually held that inherited tendency
is one of the most efficient. Considering, however, the fact that this is
a matter beyond our control; that is, a cause that we can not remove, it
is hardly worth while to devote further space, just here, to its
consideration. We can not create a new constitution; neither the mischief
of a defective inheritance, nor of years of disobedience to the laws of
life, can be atoned for——the future only is ours; the balance of vital
capital can be expended judiciously, good health regained, often, and life
made easy and extended to the utmost limit. Leaving the question of the
influence of the spiritual over the physical nature for later
consideration (see Conclusion), we have, practically, to take the body as
we find it, and aim to conserve its vitality and to improve its condition;
and when affected by disease, whether inherited or acquired, to seek its
removal by building up the constitution, so to say, by every means in our
power.
Notwithstanding the prevalent belief among physicians and laymen to the
contrary, a belief based upon the result of a form of treatment as
irrational as it is uniform and universal, I agree with Dr. Oswald, who,
in his new work——the most entertaining, as well as the soundest
health-book extant——asserts that “_Pulmonary consumption_, in its early
stages, is perhaps the most curable of all chronic diseases. The records
of the dissecting-room prove that in numerous cases lungs, wasted to
one-half of their normal size, have been healed, and, after a perfect
cicatrization of the tuberculous ulcers, have for years performed all the
essential functions of the sound organ. Still, the actual waste of tissue
is never perfectly repaired, and fragmentary lungs, supplying the
undiminished wants of the whole organism, must necessarily do double work,
and will be less able to respond to the demands of an abnormal exigency.
“But the lungs of a young child of consumptive parents are sound, though
very sensitive, and, if the climacteric of the first teens has been passed
in safety, or without too serious damage, the problem becomes reduced to
the work of preservation and invigoration: the all but intact lungs of the
healthy child can be more perfectly redeemed than the rudimentary organs
of the far-gone consumptive; the phthisical taint can be more entirely
eliminated and the respiratory apparatus strengthened to the degree of
becoming the most vigorous part of the organism. The poet Goethe,
afflicted in his childhood with spitting of blood and other hectic
symptoms, thus completely redeemed himself by a judicious system of
self-culture. Chateaubriand, a child of consumptive parents, steeled his
constitution by traveling and fasting, and reached his eightieth year.
“By a relapse into imprudent habits, however, the latent spark, which
under such circumstances seems to defy the eliminative efforts of half a
century, may at any time be fanned into life-consuming flames; but in
ninety-nine out of a hundred cases it will be found that the first
improvement followed upon a change from a sedentary to an outdoor and
active mode of life.”[6]
[Footnote 6: Oswald’s “Physical Education.”]
Anything that constitutes a _tax_ upon the system beyond its ability to
extract an ultimate good therefrom——for we know that, within certain
limits, taxing the powers, the mental, physical and emotional, tends to
exalt them——or to put it squarely: anything that overtaxes the system in
any direction, tends to induce that state or condition commonly recognized
as consumption. No greater error can be made than that of considering this
disease as primarily affecting the lungs. The lungs are readily affected
by disorder of the digestive organs. While it may not at first be plain to
the ordinary reader how catarrh, sore throat, bronchitis and even
congestion of the lungs[7] could originate in this manner; it is
nevertheless true that they not only can and do thus originate, but this
is in fact the most available and constantly operative source of
respiratory affections. They may be affected directly by continuity of
tissue, or indirectly through the sympathetic system. All understand
something about the practical working of the telegraphic system, by which
a touch of the wire at Boston, for example, may not only be felt at any
point in our own country, but even in England or Europe. How often, in joy
or affliction, the wire constitutes a sympathetic connection between
friends, families, nations. The nervous system forms a sympathetic
connection between the different parts throughout the organism, only it is
more complete, ten thousand times over, than the telegraphic or telephonic
system. If in these cases the wires were to take on disease,——become
inflamed and so affected as to cause the same states, emotions, or
disasters, at the point where an unhappy message is received as at the
point of departure,——it would constitute for the nation and the world what
the sympathetic nervous system does for the animal organism. Should we
not, then, deplore its existence, and grieve that we are so “fearfully and
wonderfully made”? Nevertheless, it is directly a great boon, and but for
this intimate connection between the different portions of the body——for
want of this most efficient set of safety valves, so to say——the organs
primarily affected would more often become fatally diseased and life
speedily terminated. Indeed, in spite of this most wonderful provision of
nature, the violations of law are so constant and severe, or so
overwhelming upon occasion, that life is often destroyed with but a moment
of warning, as in apoplexy, “heart disease,” and sunstroke, so called.
Strictly speaking, however, even in these cases there have been
premonitions without number, dating afar back (see Bright’s Disease),
which would have prevented the disaster if only they had been known and
heeded.
[Footnote 7: This disorder, which is supposed often to _cause_
consumption, is rather a disease of indigestion, and is especially apt to
attack patients _already in consumption_, because of their chronically
disordered nutritive and respiratory organs.]
Says Professor J. C. Zachos (_Studies in Science_):
“... Such is the present system of telegraphing which if it were
multiplied so as to include every town and hamlet in the country, yea,
even be within the reach of every individual as an operator, would convey
but a feeble illustration of the complication, the number, the power, and
the perfect unity of a similar system in the human body.
“We have first in each individual cell a galvanic battery. There are
countless millions of such cells in the human body, whose united force has
never been estimated, but doubtless a million of tons would not
approximate to the force they are exerting at any one instant of time.
Each of these cells is provided with two nerves; an afferent and an
efferent nerve, a carrier to, and a carrier from, that center; each,
endowed with different functions by reason of the duality of force
generated in each cell: a force of motion and a force of sensation. A
number of such cells and nerves may be combined and at a certain point of
the circuit they make there, a concentration and accumulation of power by
a plexus and convolution of these nerves, around a central substance
called ‘neureline’——a granulated collection of particles that seem to take
the place of the soft iron in the helix, for they are always found in the
midst of these convoluted masses of nerves; these masses are called
_ganglia_; they are the centers of nervous power and intelligence,
connected each with some special group of functions; associated by
connecting nerves with each other, and having their central and common
connection in the largest ganglion, called the brain.
“No part of the system fails to be visited by these nerves, and although
they are not discoverable in every tissue, yet their presence is inferred,
because their function is there——sensation or motion, or both.[8]
[Footnote 8: Is it possible to overestimate the importance of perfect
nutrition by which only this wonderful system can be preserved in health?
(See “Saline Starvation.”)]
“We can not at present enter into details in enumerating the number, the
structure, the special functions of these several ganglia, which might
well be called the telegraphic stations of the body; they vary from the
size of a grain of sand, to that of the brain which fills the cavity of
the skull.
“But what shall we say of that principle of intelligence which pervades
every part of this complicated system; which dwells in each of the
thousand millions of cells, where the chemical laboratories are furnishing
out of the crude materials of the food, the wonderful organisms of every
part of the body? Intelligence and contrivance reign in every cell;
combination and co-operation are carried on through the instrumentality of
the nervous system. At the centres of co-operation and power there seem to
be placed higher forms of intelligence that govern the whole of the
subordinate functions by some unitary plan governing thus the functions
of the heart, or the liver, or the lungs. Finally, for the moral and
social exigencies of man, there is provided an enormous centralization of
co-operative intelligences and powers, that seem to have their seat in the
brain; but it is a republic and not a monarchy; every individual cell in
the body has its representative there, mediately or immediately; every one
contributes to the welfare of the whole, and can not be denied its rights,
or be neglectful of its duties, without injury, in that proportion, to the
whole republic.
“There is a subtle and indefinable health beyond that of the stomach and
muscular powers; a man may be torpid in moral brain and intellectual
functions, who yet has an excellent appetite and can do the work of an
ox.[9] This is not usually regarded as sickness, or needing any
physiological treatment. But it is as much so as the grossest form of
sickness. A man’s temper and disposition may be the only evidence that his
liver is out of order. A paroxysm of rage may come from a diseased spleen,
and many a murder, arson, and suicide, I doubt not, come from a defective
hygiene.
[Footnote 9: Others, again, are physically as well as mentally impotent,
while eating enormously, “the digestion and excretion of superfluous food
almost monopolizing the vital energy.”]
“Physiology is an integral part of theology. Sanitary reforms lie at the
foundation of moral reforms. Christianity is health, and the means of
escaping from disease.
“No delusion is so vain as to suppose that this world is ever to be
Christianized, society purified and exalted, man saved and brought to the
divine likeness, while a thousand forms of disease prey upon his vitals,
cloud his moral perceptions, enfeeble or exasperate his will, overwhelm
him with pain and confusion, even in the midst of his noblest designs; and
all this, because he knows not, or respects not sufficiently, the laws of
his physical nature; the subtle powers and mechanism of which are as
divine in their origin and inflexible in their character as any that
govern the soul.”
It is not necessary to know, precisely, how this sympathetic or
telegraphic system operates in the conservation of health, but all of this
knowledge that is essential to us is the understanding of the main fact,
to know the nature of a message and from whence it comes, or its probable
origin when doubt arises. It is owing to an imperfect knowledge of this
law which causes so general a belief in the theory that the internal
organism takes on disease readily from the action of cold upon the surface
of the body. But, in fact, the skin was especially designed to be played
upon by extremes of heat and cold, wind and wet; and human beings are not
necessarily such pitiable creatures as they are made to appear from the
general supposition that a transient exposure to a current of pure air,
whether wet, dry, cold or hot, is likely to bring on disease. “The
immediate effects of a displacement of blood from the surface, and its
determination to the internal organs, are not,” says the _Lancet_, “as was
once supposed, sufficient to produce the sort of congestion that issues
in inflammation. If it were so, an inflammatory condition would be the
common characteristic of our bodily state. When the vascular system is
healthy, and that part of the nervous apparatus by which the calibre of
the vessels is controlled performs its functions normally, any disturbance
of equilibrium in the circulatory system which may have been produced by
external cold will be quickly adjusted.” Nothing so readily promotes
disorder of the vascular system, and of the nervous apparatus which
controls it, as to interfere with the nutrition of the nervous system; and
in turn, no cause is more effectual, and none more speedy, among the
ordinary vicissitudes of life, in depriving the nerves and tissues of
their appropriate aliment, than an excessive or otherwise unwholesome diet
and the consequent disturbance of the organs of nutrition; and the excess
is increased relatively, and the disorder intensified, in proportion as
the body is sweltered with clothing and defrauded of the “breath of
life”——outdoor air. It is a very significant comment on the cold-air
fallacy, that people of all ages, sexes, occupations and social positions,
and in all conditions of _general_ health, catch cold, say to-day, from
the slightest exposures, often, indeed, they are totally at a loss to
account for them except upon one surmise or another, like that of the old
lady who “caught her death o’ cold _taking gruel out of a damp basin_”;
while next month, or next week, perhaps, the same individuals endure the
most extreme exposure, as, for example, riding for hours in face of a
driving rain or snow-storm, until wet and chilled through and through; or,
perhaps, being turned out at night in bitter cold, half clad, to find
their way from their burning dwelling to a distant neighbor’s——in short,
they may suffer the most taxing exposures and yet “catch” nothing more
than a good appetite for a warm dinner or a cheery fireside. The boy who,
as was supposed, caught a fearful cold one warm day last week, from merely
stepping to the door bareheaded, stole away yesterday, when the _mercury_
was _twenty or thirty degrees lower_, and bareheaded and barefooted,
paddled in the frog-pond until his clothes were wet through and his lips
blue with cold, and yet he turned out this morning without a trace of
disease! Can we learn nothing from constantly occurring instances of this
character? The simple fact is, in such cases, in the first instance the
victims were in bad condition, they had found the end of their rope, so to
say, _i.e._, they had reached a point where from continued bad living the
system could no longer contain the accumulated impurities and the overflow
had to come, and come it would, sooner or later (and the later, the more
severe), without even the influence of the slightest current of air, or
any form of exposure. If a slight chill was experienced it arose from the
internal fever, and not, as was foolishly supposed, from the puff of pure
air that was felt _co-incidently_. But in the second instance, the “cold”
of last week had _cleansed the system_ more or less completely, and now,
owing to the improved condition, the really severe exposures give rise to
no symptoms of disease——the temporary inconvenience from the wet or the
cold is all.
Personally, I have been a life-long sufferer from colds, and as with
every one (how many pass a year without “a cold” of some sort?) they came
in a variety of forms, from the “snuffles” of crammed infancy and the “hay
fever” of adult age, to neuralgia, rheumatism, and the like. No matter
what name may be settled on, finally, to describe the disease, whether
rheumatism, neuralgia, sick headache, kidney complaint, bilious fever, or
what not, the victim is sure to say: “I caught a severe cold some way, and
it settled”——wherever the uneasy symptoms are felt.[10] “A succession of
colds” is the commonly-named _excuse_, and the honestly-believed-in
_cause_ of lung affections, including consumption; but as the phrase is
usually understood, it is the veriest blunder——the most pernicious blunder
possible. Hence the space devoted to this subject. Some years ago I made a
change in my habits as to diet and clothing: I quite abruptly abandoned
the use of heavy-weight garments, heavy flannels, and the practice of
“bundling up” upon occasions of exposure, and I gave up the three-meal
system, and the fish, flesh, and fowl, and most of the accompaniments of
the flesh diet, and have since lived mainly on vegetable food. I eat twice
a day, nominally, but invariably skip a meal if there is any sign of
indigestion, or whenever I think I should be better off without eating. I
eat on an average about a dozen meals a week, each less in amount, though
more nutritious than formerly. This keeps my appetite always perfect, but
I am never “hungry,” as when I ate three meals every day, “work or play.”
[Footnote 10: And so with non-healing wounds, cuts, bruises, “cold-sores,”
etc. Those people who have their bodies built up of impure material, who
are unsound through and through, always “catch cold in it” when they have
a wound of any kind or a sore; and their flesh is easily wounded and sores
come often, more or less mysteriously, and the most trifling wound that
would, in the case of a healthy man, woman, or child, heal readily, and in
a few days be entirely well, in their case “festers,” and may be
troublesome for weeks or months, perhaps necessitating the amputation of a
finger, hand, or a limb, or even causing death. Healthy people have no
occasion for sores, boils, etc; but if filth exists in the system, these
little volcanoes tend to eliminate it, and to the prevention of other
diseases. The suppression of catarrhal or diarrhœal discharges often
results in dangerous sicknesses, even fatal sicknesses, unless their cause
is first removed. (See Bright’s Disease.)]
I was formerly hungry before every meal, and if any one of them was
delayed for a single hour there was sure to be a faint and languid
feeling——a disinclination for, and a seeming inability to, labor——which,
however, would usually disappear if I kept on working! From this I finally
learned a most valuable lesson, viz: that the craving appetite that tempts
one to forestall the regular meal hour is a species of “poison-hunger,”
akin to that which torments the inebriate if his customary dram is not
forthcoming. In either case, whether the congested stomach _seems_ to
crave solid or liquid stimulants, the only wise thing is to abstain,
remove or relieve the inflammatory state of the stomach by giving it rest
from digestive labor, and by judicious drinking of pure water, and then
eat and drink so as to prevent a recurrence of the disorder. So universal
is this disagreeable feeling with three-meal-flesh-and-pastry eaters and
coffee-drinkers that Marshall Hall, evidently himself ignorant of its
nature and cause, refers what he styles the “temper disease” to the
_mauvais quart d’heure_ before dinner!
Since adopting the new plan I can truly say that when I live up to it, as
do most of the time, I _never_ have any of the symptoms of what is
commonly known as cold, nor, indeed, any kind of physical inconvenience
whatever. And yet, only twelve years ago, my physical condition was such
that I bade fair to follow my mother, an aunt, an uncle, a sister, and a
brother, all of whom died of tubercular consumption under the prevailing
general regimen and medical treatment, both of which I design in this
treatise to unqualifiedly denounce.
In order, however, to see if I could, by exposure, cause the well-known
symptoms of cold, I have made many experiments, some of which I will name:
I have walked in snow and slop with low shoes until both shoes and socks
were soaked through, and have sat thus for an hour or more; after wearing
all-wool flannels during moderate weather, I have, upon the approach of
_colder weather_, removed my under-garments, and have then attended to my
outdoor affairs, minus the overcoat habitually worn; I have slept in
winter in a current blowing directly about my head and shoulders; upon
going to bed, I have sat in a strong current, _entirely nude_, for a
quarter of an hour, on a very cold, damp night in the fall of the year; I
have worn a flannel gown, and slept under heavy-weight bed-covers one
night, and in cotton night-shirt and light-weight bed-clothes the next.
These and similar experiments I have made repeatedly, and have never been
able to catch cold. I become cold, sometimes quite cold, and become warm
again, that is all. On the other hand, changing the form of my
experiments, returning to my old way, the prevalent style of living——a
“generous diet” and a full meal every five or six hours through the day——I
have found no difficulty in _accumulating_ a cold; and within a reasonable
length of time could count upon it, although, now, a part of the programme
consisted in taking the most extreme care to avoid what are commonly
reckoned as exposures——keeping my feet ever warm and dry, paying strict
attention to wraps,[11] etc. This is not simply my own individual
experience, but, also, of others who, either of their own accord or
through my suggestion, have carefully studied the matter; while rational
hygienists, generally, attest to the main fact, that they endure all the
ordinary vicissitudes of life without often being troubled with this most
disagreeable complaint.
[Footnote 11: Said an observing friend to me: “I am apt to catch cold when
I _put on_ my winter flannels; why is that?” With those who may happen to
be already near the brink, this effect is likely to follow the addition of
an extra layer of flannel to the ordinary dress, unless they leave out a
layer of food, so to say, or the weather happens to be enough colder on
that day, to counteract the extra clothing.]
In the course of my experimentation, whenever I have fed my cold as far as
I wished or dared to go, I have, in every instance, banished the disease
by abstaining from food and indulging in extra rations of outdoor
air——rain or shine. I have never known this remedy to fail of “breaking
up” a common cold in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, whatever the age,
sex, or occupation of the individual, and regardless of the supposed
origin of the disease. Of course the size of the “dose” must bear some
relation to the severity of the disorder. Whenever I have chosen to
prolong one of these experiments by continuing to eat heartily, as is
customary with people in general, I have found my experience identical
with that of others: the symptoms would increase in severity, and to acute
catarrh, headache, slight feverishness, and languor, would be added sore
throat, perhaps, with pressure at the lungs, hoarseness, increased fever,
and entire indisposition for exertion. In this case two, perhaps three,
days’ fasting (one, maybe two, in bed) would be required, with a little
extra sponging of the skin, to reduce the fever and completely restore the
balance. I have, to be sure, never been reckless enough to subject my
system to the influence of impure air——to the quality of air, for example,
that is the daily and nightly reliance of ninety and nine families in the
hundred, rich or poor, in the city or country——this I would never do; and
for this reason my “colds” would be less severe, other things equal, than
those of my neighbors, and more readily amenable to “treatment”; but the
principle holds good in all cases. There are all degrees of obtuseness
observable in the mental efforts of our fellow-creatures: I have had
persons reply to this, that they “couldn’t agree” with me entirely in my
position, for they had “tried the remedy,” when, in fact, as they would
more or less hesitatingly admit, they had kept up their three-meal
feeding, even after the appetite had passed the craving stage and the
fitful stage; and even after food became loathsome they had punished
themselves more or less _gruelly_; but, finally, driven to the wall, and
eating little or nothing for a few days or weeks, because it was
physically impossible to eat more, they have the assurance to declare, or
the sublime stupidity to believe, that they have tried the fasting-cure,
and that while “it might cure some,” it wouldn’t answer for them! And they
usually add——of all aphorisms the most foolish and misleading——“one’s
meat, another’s poison.”[12] It results, in such cases, that, if the
individual recovers, he does so as the effect of seven-eighths starvation,
involuntarily practiced, and extending over a period of weeks or months,
when a few days of total abstinence early enough in the contest, before
the appetite declined, would have saved the system from the depletion of a
long-continued strain.
[Footnote 12: Were I to summarize the arguments against the saying, that
“what is meat for one is poison for another,” I would put it something
like this: Its author, and the people, have been deceived in that one
person can _bear_ what another can not. Some constitutions have withstood
the worst habits——violations of all the known laws of life——gluttony,
intemperance to the degree of almost constant drunkenness, the grossest
and most constant immorality in departments the most exhausting, until
passed what we call old age——and still have rounded out a full century of
life. Many, on the other hand, of frailer make, have, by reason of a tithe
of such misconduct, been swept into premature graves, at middle-age, early
manhood, or even in youth. Others, again, like the last named, and rapidly
following them to destruction, have been kept back, put on the mending
hand, and have lived fairly long lives, from renouncing their immoral
practices, or, perhaps, simply their “unhealthy” practices as to diet,
when these have been their only faults. As elsewhere remarked, thousands
of lives have been saved and robust health regained, or gained for the
first time, from adopting the vegetarian, as against the prevailing
“mixed,” diet. I believe that the reverse of this will not be even claimed
by any one who has a _right_ to claim expert knowledge. It may be relied
upon that no substance that is positively wholesome for one person, is,
_in and of itself_, injurious——speaking with relation to food. To this
rule, it must be admitted, there are a few, isolated and, as yet, not
fully explained exceptions——but the rule holds good; and it is equally
certain that whatever is, _in and of itself_, harmful for one person to
eat or drink, smoke, snuff, or chew, whether animal, vegetable, or
mineral, food or medicine, is not good, certainly not _best_, for any
other person to eat, drink, absorb, or take into the system in any manner.
It is true that there are many things transpiring before our eyes every
day which, to the superficial observer——and only the well-informed upon a
given subject can see beneath the surface——form apparent exceptions to
this rule——even to the degree of seeming to cast it aside as not a rule;
nevertheless, no rule holds more uniformly true than this.]
Lest it be inferred that I design to intimate that any one could at once
imitate my cold air experiments with impunity, immediately upon changing
his method of living, I hasten to say that not all could do this, any more
than they could imitate the muscular feats of an athlete. As the depraved
muscular system has to be built up by degrees and by long practice, so the
life-long sweltered skin can become accustomed to extreme changes of
temperature only by a somewhat gradual change of habit. Besides, it takes
some time for the general system to come under the influence of a pure
diet; and, again, the best of remedies have to be graduated in amount to
the present condition of the patient. However, I am sure that most persons
who will accustom themselves to an out-door life and to light clothing,
have only to reform their eating-habits to make themselves virtually
disease proof; while _all_ classes may derive great benefit from a
rational application of the principle.
That certain symptoms, popularly called cold, are often _excited_ by
exposure to fresh air, damp air, draughts, and the like, is true enough;
and we should be devoutly thankful for this provision of Nature. But it
is likewise true that these “exposures” do not, and can not, _originate_
the disease that _in its exit_ manifests the well-known symptoms. _That_
already exists, and has been for months, perhaps, accumulating in the
system; and now, an unusual amount of fresh air in the lungs and in
contact with the skin, has so _invigorated the organism_ as to enable it
to institute measures for thrusting out the real disease; hence catarrh,
cough, expectoration, _fever_——for the name, cold, is a complete misnomer,
and based upon a misconception as to the real nature of the disorder: the
patient may be never so chilly, but the thermometer placed under the
tongue at once shows that the temperature is above the normal standard.
Says Dr. Oswald:[13] “Rightly interpreted, the external symptoms of
disease constitute a restorative process that can not be brought to a
satisfactory issue till the cause of the evil is removed. So that, in
fact, the air-hater confounds the cause of his recovery with the cause of
his disease. Among nations who pass their lives out-doors, catarrh and
scrofula are unknown; not fresh air, but the want of it, is the cause of
countless diseases, of fatal diseases where people are in the habit of
_nailing down_ their windows every winter to keep their children from
opening them. The only objection to a ‘draught’ through a defective window
is, that the draught is generally not strong enough. An influx of fresh
air into a sick-room is a ray of light into darkness, a messenger of
Vishnu visiting an abode of the damned. Cold air,” he continues, “is a
disinfectant, and under the pressure of a high wind a modicum of oxygen
will penetrate a house in spite of closed windows. This circumstance alone
has preserved the lives of thousands whom no cough syrup, or cod-liver oil
could have saved.”
[Footnote 13: “Physical Education,” by F. L. Oswald. M.D. New York: D.
Appleton & Co.]
Referring once more to the sympathetic telegraph, we find, for instance,
that a small wound in the foot may produce lock-jaw; a blow on the elbow
makes the fingers tingle; touch the soft palate with the finger and the
stomach offers up its contents; and in the same manner, substantially,
irritation or congestion of the stomach or intestines will give rise to
tickling in the throat, itching of the nose,[14] etc., etc.; and if the
primary disease be severe or constant, or of frequent occurrence, acute or
chronic disease of the lungs may result. Indeed, I am led to the
conclusion that the lungs seldom become disordered in any other manner.
The pneumogastric nerve with its various branches forms a close “sympathy”
between the brain and the larynx, bronchi, lungs, liver, heart and
stomach. Is there, in reason and common sense, any necessity for argument
to prove that of all the organs the stomach is the most abused; or rather,
that of all our abuses of this wonderful temple of the body those
inflicted by the medium of the alimentary system are the most flagrant
and most constant?
[Footnote 14: It is not from _habit_, simply, that children pick the nose,
and half the occupants of a drawing-room car, even, devote a sly moment to
the same inspiring occupation! Observe the prevalence of red noses,
enlarged nostrils, etc., among coffee drinkers and dyspeptics, as well as
liquor drinkers.]
Consider for one moment that the food taken from day to day should be
plain and simple, and that in quality and quantity it should bear a close
relation to the following circumstances or conditions, viz.: (1) to the
season and the climate; (2) to the purity of the air habitually breathed;
(3) amount of clothing worn; (4) amount of mental and physical labor
performed; (5) the existing physical condition as to (_a_)
appetite——whether normal or abnormal, as for example, ravenous, fitful or
none at all; (_b_) strength——whether full, or exhausted from fatigue: (6)
mental state——whether the mind is at ease, or from one or another cause
distressed, as with grief, anger,[15] etc.; (7) the natural
constitution——whether delicate or robust. How many, let me ask, in any
community consider _any_ of these conditions, or are to any extent
influenced by them? Not that the question is, after all, as complicated as
would at first sight appear; on the contrary, it is very simple, indeed.
We have only to clothe ourselves in loose and comfortable garments; keep
clean; breathe out-door air——whether we are indoors or out, day and
night;[16] lead an active, useful life, rest when tired, never eat
without a good relish, nor, as a rule, when there is “gnawing” at the
stomach, nor when the body is exhausted with fatigue or the mind in a
badly disturbed state. Eat but twice daily and of the simplest and purest
food, _i.e._, the cereal grains, vegetables and fruits. Ordinarily, a
little animal food——unaccompanied by greasy or stimulating
condiments——will not affect a robust person seriously; but it is not
essential to health, speaking generally, and in depraved conditions of the
system it may be set down as detrimental; although lean beef or mutton,
plainly cooked, and served without “seasoning,” is doubtless preferable to
bolted flour or impoverished vegetables, whose dissipated salts are
mistakenly supposed to be “restored” in the form of artificial salt (see
“Saline Starvation.”)
[Footnote 15: Few causes are more readily promotive of indigestion than
the indulgence of such emotions, and none presents a greater obstacle to
the recovery of a consumptive patient than the habitual subjection of the
mind to unhappy reflections of whatsoever character. It is especially
important for both patient and all who approach him to avoid, so far as
possible, every disquieting influence.]
[Footnote 16: “Azotized air affects the lungs as the substitution of
excrements for nourishing food would affect our digestive organs:
corruption sets in; pulmonary phthisis is, in fact, a process of
putrefaction.
“No ventilatory contrivance can compare with the simple plan of opening a
window; in wet nights a ‘rain-shutter’ (a blind with large, overlapping
bars) will keep a room both airy and dry. In every bedroom, one of the
upper windows should be kept open night and day, except in storms,
accompanied with rain or with a degree of cold exceeding 10° Fahr. In warm
summer nights open every window in the house and every door connecting the
bedroom with the adjoining apartments. Create a thorough draught. Before
we can hope to fight consumption with any chance of success, we have to
get rid of the _night-air superstition_. Like the dread of cold water, raw
fruit, etc., it is founded on that mistrust of our instincts which we owe
to our anti-natural religion. It is probably the most prolific single
cause of impaired health, even among the civilized nations of our
enlightened age, though its absurdity rivals the grossest delusions of the
witchcraft era. The subjection of holy reason to hearsays could hardly go
further.
“‘Beware of the night-wind; be sure and close your windows after dark!’ In
other words, beware of God’s free air; be sure and infect your lungs with
the stagnant, azotized, and offensive atmosphere of your bedroom. In other
words, beware of the rock spring; stick to sewerage. Is night-air
injurious? Is there a single tenable pretext for such an idea? Since the
day of creation that air has been breathed with impunity by millions of
different animals——tender, delicate creatures, some of them——fawns, lambs,
and young birds. The moist night-air of the tropical forests is breathed
with impunity by our next relatives, the anthropoid apes——the same apes
that soon perish with consumption in the close though generally
well-warmed atmosphere of our northern menageries. Thousands of soldiers,
hunters, and lumbermen sleep every night in tents and open sheds without
the least injurious consequences; men in the last stage of consumption
have recovered by adopting a semi-savage mode of life, and camping
out-doors in all but the stormiest nights. Is it the draught you fear, or
the contrast of temperature? Blacksmiths and railroad-conductors seem to
thrive under such influences. Draught? Have you never seen boys skating in
the teeth of a snow-storm at the rate of fifteen miles an hour? ‘They
counteract the effects of the cold air by vigorous exercise.’ Is there no
other way of keeping warm? Does the north wind damage the fine lady
sitting motionless in her sleigh, or the pilot and helmsman of a
storm-tossed vessel? It can not be the _inclemency_ of the open air, for,
even in sweltering summer nights, the sweet south wind, blessed by all
creatures that draw the breath of life, brings no relief to the victim of
aërophobia. There is no doubt that families who have freed themselves from
the curse of that superstition can live out and out healthier in the heart
of a great city than its slaves on the airiest highland of the southern
Apennines.”——(“Physical Education.”)]