The results are seen on every hand, in almost every individual. The
stomach becomes weak and deranged, the body heavy and in-elastic,
the mind foggy and sluggish, the temper irritable.
In no other department of American life do we so much need a
thorough reform. Fashionable people hate the word _reform_, but in
this connection no other word will answer; we must set about a
thorough, earnest, radical _reform._
The Creator has so contrived our bodies, He has made them so
resistant and elastic, that an occasional abuse seems to make little
impression.
For example, a man may get drunk once a month, and at the end of a
dozen years he seems scarcely touched by the vice; although, as the
physiologist has shown us, upon each indulgence the lining coat of
the stomach is strangely inflamed, and changed in appearance;
indeed, for three or four days after each debauch the mucous lining
of the stomach continues to exude a matter which closely resembles
pus. Besides these marked and apparently alarming effects, it is
well known that alcohol is a powerful poison to every tissue of the
body, especially to the nerve; and yet the alcohol is not digested,
but goes, bodily and unchanged, creeping through every atom of the
brain itself; nevertheless, after hours of deep, death-like
lethargy, the man awakens, and his wonderful mechanism is ready to
grapple again with the duties of life.
A child takes into its mouth a bit of tobacco. It is followed by a
pale face, cold sweat, alarming palpitations, and violent vomiting.
And yet, after a little practice, the human system may be deluged
with this powerful, narcotic poison,--a man's mouth may be kept
swimming, month after month, with the strongest juice of the
strongest tobacco,--his very perspiration may be so filled with
this intense poison, that, falling on the battle-field, the most
loathsome beast of prey will not touch his body. Yet so complete is
his facility of adaptation, so immense his power of resistance,
that, for a life-time, his bodily, mental and moral machinery will
struggle on in the midst of this sea of poison.
And so it is with this almost universal vice of improper and
excessive eating. The stomach and liver are clogged and deranged,
the blood is filled with crudities and impurities, the brain is
crowded with this vicious blood, and yet the Good Father has given
us such an immense reserve, that we can bear all this, and still
have force enough left to move about, to think, to feel, and
sometimes to have hours of real enjoyment.
Our Father gives us "signs;" he hangs out "flags of distress,"--
pimples, and blotches, and sores, a red nose, inflamed eyelids,
etc.; besides, he gives us rheumatism, gout, and numerous other
aches, but he lets us live on for years, apparently in the hope that
we may learn something.
Our American system of diet is altogether bad. There is too great
variety, the food is too rich, the cooking is often very bad, we eat
too frequently, and we eat at the wrong times.
I confess to a deep personal interest in this subject. It is my sad,
but most deliberate conviction, that I have wasted a large part of
my life-force by taking too much food. I have not made this mistake
for some years; but the gray hairs began to make their appearance
before I learned about it.
Ah, my dear young friends, how deeply do I yearn to help you in this
vital department of your life!
Will you permit me a little of my own experience? I believe that, in
this way, I can speak more acceptably and more effectively, than by
giving the deductions of physiology.
For nearly thirty years I have been in the habit of visiting one
dear woman, in the State of New York, once or twice a year. (She
does not seem any older to me now, than she did when, from the front
window, she watched me on my way to Sunday-school, on a beautiful
Sabbath morning, forty years ago.
On my visits at the old home for these thirty years, I have been
tempted by those dishes which no one but a mother can make, and have
eaten more than usual; and, although the visit was, otherwise, such
as freshens and invigorates the faculties, I constantly observed
that, upon my return, my lectures were duller rather than
sprightlier as they should have been after such a pleasant rest. At
length, I came to suspect that visiting, even with my own mother,
did not agree with me. But it occurred to me, a few years ago, to
deny myself the custard pie so thick and luscious, to refuse the
chicken pie, with its rich crust, to deny myself all the desserts
and other tit-bits, and live on a moderate quantity of plain beef
and bread. Since then, my pilgrimages to the home-shrine have
greatly refreshed both body and soul, and I return home to resume my
duties with new pleasure and new strength. Why will people, (I trust
my mother will pardon the question,) why will people prepare such
elaborate and tempting dishes for their friends? If one has a keen
appetite, and sits at the table in a social spirit, and takes even a
little of each article urged upon him, the variety and quantity must
derange his digestion, and then his capacity for enjoyment is at an
end.
I was invited, a few months ago, to dine at the house of a lady, who
is recognized as standing at the head of the intellectual
aristocracy of a most intellectual and refined city. The lady is
noted, likewise, as the best of housekeepers, and as a most charming
hostess. The plate and crockery were the finest I have ever seen at
a private table. We had four courses: 1st, a small glass of
lemonade, 2nd, a bit of melon, 3rd, roast beef and sweet potatoes,
4th, ice-cream.
Our hostess, with her fine conceptions of life, could no more have
given us soup, fish, meat, game, puddings, pies, raisins, nuts,
fruits and ice-creams, than she could have offered us whiskey, rum,
gin, brandy and all the rest of them. All this sort of thing,
whether of foods or drinks, belongs to the vulgar and barbarous.
Some time since an august Medical Association assembled for its
annual meeting in Boston. The city government voted a large sum of
money to the entertainment of the "distinguished visitors." It was a
precious opportunity for the homoepathic physicians of the city,
under whose management the money was to be spent, to show what a
generous and refined hospitality could do.
Boston has a peculiar reputation. In some respects it stands alone
among American cities. And this was a peculiar occasion. Several
hundred representatives of a dominant school of medicine, one which
now commands the intelligence of the country, were to convene in
Boston. The strangers stopped at hotels and with the brethren, and,
it may be fairly presumed, got enough to eat.
What do you suppose our doctors did? I will tell you. The evening
before the convention, the delegates were invited to attend a
preparatory meeting, at which meeting the _preparation_ consisted in
eating, in the evening after supper, sundry salads, cold chickens,
cakes, oysters, creams, &c.
The convention adjourned next day at twelve o'clock, for a
collation, although it may be supposed that the members had all been
to breakfast. After the collation, many of them went to dinner, then
came the afternoon session, then another stuffing, then an evening
session, then a surfeit, and even when the entertainment was given
in Music Hall, which was really fine, the members were invited to
another hall to fill up their stomachs before they went to bed.
If this meeting had occurred in some frontier town, where they had
nothing but victuals, it would have been tolerable, as a good-
natured back-woods hospitality; but in Boston, something better was
expected.
If I had been a member of that convention, I could have said:
"Gentlemen, we can get cold turkey and chicken salad at home, but if
you will permit us to assemble in the art gallery of your splendid
Atheneum, and your artists who have made this gallery a special
study, will give us their bright thoughts in connection with the
works of the great masters there collected; if you will allow us to
spend a half day in your 'Natural History Building,' and give us
Prof. Agassiz to explain things; if you will permit us to assemble
in that crowning glory of New England Education--'The Institute of
Technology,' and give us President Rogers for a brief explanation;
yes, gentlemen, if you will show us any of twenty Boston
institutions with the assistance of intelligent guides, we shall be
most grateful. Gentlemen, don't be afraid of us, we shall not be
offended if you happen to appeal to something above our stomachs.
Gentlemen, we have come from the West to Boston, imagining that your
two hundred years of uninterrupted growth and accumulations, have
enriched you with something besides chicken salad, but here we find,
that nothing is thoroughly organized and placed within our reach,
except another dinner, exactly such as we get at home at any of our
village taverns. Gentlemen, you think we can't appreciate anything
else, and so you kindly condescend to our condition and feed us, but
really we could appreciate your finest music, and best dramas, your
great pictures, und your matchless educational institutions. At any
rate you should have given us a chance at some of these things,
under the guidance of your eminent specialists, and if we had shown
that lack of appreciation which Red-Cloud and Spotted-Tail--the
Indian chiefs--exhibited when taken through the Patent Buildings in
Washington, then you could have fallen back on victuals again; but
until we had shown that utter lack of sense seen in R. Cloud, Esq.,
and S. Tail, Esq., it was hardly fair to deny us all opportunity to
examine the treasures of your city.
Two or three years ago, while visiting a dear friend in the country,
in a neighborhood where I knew many of the people, my friend
proposed to invite in my acquaintances for an evening's chat. I
replied that I should be most happy, should feel myself honored, but
could not consent to such a gathering on my account if there was to
be any eating. Mrs. L. was already overwhelmed with cares; if these
were to be increased by the re-union, I should be obliged to
decline; besides, on principle I was opposed to evening suppers.
Mrs. L. couldn't think of such an omission for a moment, it would be
the talk of the town for months; but I insisted, and finally she
consented if I would take the responsibility, and explain it to the
company. I did explain it, and gave my reasons for it. Most of them
thought it was the right thing to do, several wished with all their
hearts that the practice could become general, but one embryotic
clergyman said he thought it well enough, perhaps, but it was
pleasant, and he did not think it hurtful, to take refreshments in
the evening; since that time, however, under the lash of dyspepsia,
he has changed his opinion.
If people have beautiful homes and wealth, and desire to make the
party a _recherche_ affair, are there not professional players,
singers, actors, readers, florists etc., etc.? Something grand could
be given for half the expense of an elaborate supper.
I need hardly hint to bright people of a less pretentious class,
that social singing, dancing, charades, and a hundred beautiful
games are all open to them. These are ten-fold more enjoyable than
the more stately methods of the rich.
The time will soon come when people of really fine culture will not
think of giving their guests a late supper; indeed, of the twenty
most intellectual and refined homes to which I have been invited in
America and Europe, not one gave any refreshments at an evening
party, with perhaps the exception of wine in France, and lemonade in
this country.
If people have no brains, but have good stomachs, then I advise
eating on all occasions; in fact it is the only thing left. Such
people may have already eaten three meals, but when they assemble in
the evening at a sociable, they had better feed again, and feed
hearty; what else is there to do? They can't sit and stare at each
other by the hour, and it wouldn't be good manners to lie down on
the floor and go to sleep. After they finish the more substantial
meats and things, they can fill up the rest of the evening with
nuts, doughnuts, apples, cider, and other trifling things.
But if people happen to have a love of music, paintings,
conversation, (the finest of the fine arts,) bright games, charades,
dramatics, or any other of twenty amusements; if they happen to have
a love for anything above cold pork, then I advise them, when
assembled in a social way, to give their brains a chance, and not
stuff their stomachs; the former is human, the latter is piggish.
Few changes in our social life have afforded me such genuine
satisfaction as the recent changes, among a few of our best people,
in the forms and methods of hospitality. Only a few years ago, even
among the intelligent class, the first question was:
"Will you have something to eat?"
Now you frequently hear such questions as:
"Have you seen those new stereoscopic views of the Yosemite?"
"No!"
"Please come this way and I will show you one of the most beautiful
series you ever saw!"
Or: "Do let me read you, or you read to me, three of the funniest
anecdotes I have seen for months!" Or: "Have you seen that
remarkable statement in the papers this morning, in the circular
letter from Bismark? He affirms that in twenty wars between Prussia
and France, France has been the aggressor every time! If this be
true, our sympathy for the French would seem to be thrown away; for
after such a history, Prussia can hardly be blamed for wishing to so
cripple France that she shall be unable for half a century, at
least, to trouble her neighbors."
The change from "Will you have a glass of whiskey?" which was
addressed to callers fifty years ago, to the question, "Will you
have something to eat?" which was addressed to them twenty-five
years ago, was, on the whole, a great improvement. The change which
has now been inaugurated of addressing your hospitality to something
above the stomach, is a still greater improvement.
When this has been fairly established, housekeepers can entertain
company, in the evening, with real pleasure and profit to all
concerned. When an evening sociable means a "big feed," it involves
a great sacrifice; there is roasting, baking and fussing for two or
three days, and the expense is such as only a few can well afford.
And what is it all for? Why, I can't think of anything, unless it is
to make the company sick. Does anyone doubt that eating late in the
evening is injurious? And does any one doubt that the preparation
and cost of the supper involve a sacrifice to the housekeeper? If
these are admitted, I can't imagine any decent apology for the
custom.
What shall be done? Every important movement must be inaugurated by
individual action. Let those who have the idea, and the moral
courage, excuse themselves from all evening refreshments, and the
fashion will soon become general. It is a real pleasure to say, that
already thousands have determined upon this course, so that now it
is quite safe to entertain company without refreshments.
Well, after all this about what and how you should _not_ eat, now I
will tell you what and how you _should_ eat.
To secure a clear, fresh skin, bright eye, active limbs, a quick
brain, and a cheerful, pleasant temper, and if you would enjoy a
long life, you should live about as follows:--