COFFEE, AND THE LAME KNEE.
Mr. W. was a distinguished minister of the gospel, and teacher of
females. He could not at this time have been much less than seventy
years of age. He was originally a man of iron constitution and of great
mental activity.
Of late it had been observed by some of the members of his family, that
his mind had seasons of great inactivity, and it was even suspected he
had, either in his sleep or at some other time, suffered from a slight
attack of paralysis. His face seemed a little distorted, and one of the
angles of his mouth a little depressed. There appeared to be a slight
change even of his speech. It was recollected, too, that he inherited a
tendency of this kind.
Along with other difficulties was a lame knee. This he called
rheumatism; but was it so? People are very fond of having a name for
every thing; and yet names very often mislead. Prof. Ives, of the
Medical College in Connecticut, was wont to say to his students,
"Diseases, young gentlemen, are not creatures to whom we can give
particular names, or assign particular marks of distinction. They are
merely _modes of action_." My friend's over solicitude for a name to his
complaint was therefore no new thing.
I explained the matter as well as I could, very cautiously. I told him
it was of little consequence about the name of his disease, provided we
could ascertain the cause and remove it. "However," I said, "we will
conclude to call it rheumatism." For though possessed of a good natural
constitution, and, in general, of comparatively temperate habits, he had
nevertheless set at defiance some of nature's laws, and was suffering
under a just penalty.
One member of his family, a favorite son, was suspicious of coffee. He
himself had abandoned it long before, and had thus placed himself in a
position to observe its effects on others. His father used it very
strong, he said; and had used it in this way for a long time. He even
ventured, at length, to express his fears to his father.
"Nonsense, my son," said the father; "do you think coffee is powerful
enough to give a man a lame knee? Why, the whole world--I mean the whole
civilized world--use it; and do they all have stiff knees?"
"Perhaps not," said the son; "but almost every coffee-drinker has,
sooner or later, some ailment about him, that may very possibly have its
origin in this source. Our troubles, as you yourself are accustomed to
say, do not spring out of the ground. Coffee, as the best authorities
tell us, is a slow poison; and if it is so, its effects must, at some
time, be manifested."
"Ay, a very slow poison this coffee must be, my son," said the
half-indignant father; "for I have used it pretty freely forty years,
and am not dead yet. But to be serious for a moment, Henry, do you
really believe that such a small transgression as this, even if it could
be proved to be a transgression at all, would be the cause of so much
suffering?"
"You admit, then, that your troubles may possibly be the result of
transgression, and that they did not spring out of the ground."
"Oh yes, I suppose it must be so; but there is such a strange
disproportion between the transgression and the penalty, in the case you
mention, that I cannot for one moment believe any thing about it. Why,
what rational man in the world will believe that a little coffee, once a
day, will entail upon a person severe rheumatism?"
"To what larger transgression, my dear father, will you be more ready to
refer it? You do not use tobacco, or rum, or opium; and I am happy in
being able to say that you never did. You are no tea-drinker. You are no
worshipper of the apothecary's shop. You have not, so far as I know,
strained your knee, by over exertion, either in labor or amusement Yet,
here you are a sufferer; and you have suffered for months. Now, how do
you account for it?"
"There is no possibility of accounting for it, my son, and why should we
talk about it? If any thing can be done to cure it, I am sure I shall be
glad; but though I admit that the complaint may have had a cause--and
indeed _must_ have had--I do not think we shall ever be able to trace it
out."
The son still adhered to the opinion that the coffee was the cause of
the father's sufferings; and there was reason for believing that the
father was more than half convinced of it himself; only that he was too
proud to confess it. He concluded by asking his father if he would like
to consult me on the subject--to which he cheerfully consented.
On a careful investigation of the case, I came to a full conclusion that
the son was right in his conjectures; that the coffee was the principal
source of his troubles; and that troubles still more serious might
befall him unless he abandoned it; and accordingly I told him so.
It was a severe trial. He was, in truth, a most inveterate
coffee-drinker; and the greater his slavery to it had become, the
greater his reluctance to believe it produced, on him, any injurious
effects. He consented, at length, to leave off its use for two months,
and see if it made any difference with him. Being, however, about half a
convert to hydropathy, as was also his son, it was concluded, with my
permission, to apply the cold _douche_ every day to his knee, by way of
an adjunct to the abstinence plan. No change was made in his diet; as,
in fact, very little was needed after the coffee had been removed. "But
one thing is needful," at the same meal, had long been his motto; and he
was never excessive in the use of even that.
The coffee was laid aside, and resolution was put to the test. He
suffered in his feelings for want of his accustomed stimulus during the
first month; but during the second, very little. In about five weeks
after I saw and had prescribed for him, I met him one day, by accident,
and inquired about his lameness. "Very much better," said he, smiling;
"but no thanks to you for it. It is the _douche_ which is curing me." I
replied that I was not very solicitous to know the cause, provided he
was cured.
On a more particular inquiry I found that his lameness had nearly
disappeared already; and what is more remarkable still, it never
returned. As long as he lived he could walk up and down stairs nearly as
well as I. He continued to be a water-drinker about ten years, when he
died, as he had lived, rejoicing in his emancipation from slavery to
coffee. He believed, most fully, in its evil effects and tendencies, and
did not hesitate, for many years before he died, to acknowledge that
belief. Neither his son nor myself had firmer faith in the connection of
law with penalty, in these matters, that he. And his only regret, in
this particular, seemed to be that he had suffered himself to remain,
almost all his lifetime, in what he now regarded as utter ignorance. And
yet, compared with most men of his day, he was quite enlightened.
The case of Mr. W. was a pretty apt illustration of the truth of what I
regard as the great or cardinal doctrine of temperance, faintly
announced in Chapters XVIII., XXI., XXVIII, and elsewhere, viz., that,
as a general rule, much more mischief is done to society at large by the
frequent or at least habitual use of small quantities of poison, than by
an equal aggregate quantity in much larger doses. I mean just this: The
poisonous effects of Mr. W.'s coffee, though the amount daily taken was
trifling, produced a greater aggregate of mischief, in the end, than if
the same amount of poison had been applied in a very short time. A pint
of rum drank in a single day will do much less mischief to the human
constitution, than if divided into twenty _small_ doses and two of them
are taken every day for ten days. In the first case the effect will be
severe, but temporary; in the second, it will seem to be trifling, but
there will be an accumulation of ill effects, a heaping up, as it were,
of combustible matter in the system, till by and by when an igniting
spark comes to be applied to the pile, lo! we have an explosion.
Some of the hydropathists who knew the facts concerning Mr. W.,--for the
case did not occur in a corner,--tried to make it appear, perhaps in
all honesty, that he was cured by the cold _douche_. Now I have no
disposition to deny, wholly, its good effects. I have given you the
facts just as they were. Yet I have not a doubt that had he returned to
his coffee, the same troubles or others of equal magnitude would have
fallen to his lot again, despite the influences of the _douche_. In
truth, I know of no sensible hydropathist who, in such a case, would
rely upon the _douche_ alone; which is to concede, practically, all that
I desire to claim.