WINTER VENTILATION.
The true theory of ventilation is to obtain a perpetual and sufficient change of air without sensible draught. The following simple plan, as I have proved by years of experience, perfectly fulfills these requirements, and leaves nothing to be desired. The Scientific American endorses the plan, and places it above
many, in fact most of the elaborate and expensive devices. The eminent Dr. B. W. Richardson, of London, also, is on record in favor of the plan, and it is already in use in thousands of homes in this country. A three-inch strip placed beneath the lower sash of each window has the effect to “mismatch” the sashes, causing them to overlap each other in the middle. The stream of air thus admitted is thrown directly upward, and slowly mixes with the heated air in the upper part of the room. As several windows in each room are thus provided, the vitiated air is constantly passing out at one or another of the ventilators. The strip being perfectly fitted or listed, no air can enter at the sill, and all can be so nicely finished as in no manner to mar the appearance of the most elegant drawing-room. A dwelling thus ventilated will never smell “close” to the most sensitive nose upon re-entering, even after a prolonged stay in the open air—a test that would condemn, as unfit for occupancy, ninety in the hundred sitting and sleeping rooms, as well as churches, halls, etc., the world over. The purity of the air is by no means measured by the temperature. Cold air is often very impure by reason of stagnation (as stagnant water), or the exhalations from the lungs, etc., while, on the other hand, the temperature may be maintained at 70° F., or upwards, without fatally lowering its quality, if a sufficient and perpetual change is going on between the outdoor and indoor air.
Whether in Maine or California, Florida or Kansas; whether in a “malarial district” or in a region celebrated
for its salubrity,—whatever the locality,—the only standard, the purest air attainable for the inhabitants of any town or hamlet, is the outdoor air. Apropos of this I make a brief extract from the letter of a patient, a delicate lady, under treatment for chronic dyspepsia, and other troubles, who, under date of September 5th, says: “I have tried to follow your directions, and the result is very satisfactory. I live out of doors as much as possible through the day, and for weeks have even slept out on the porch at night. I have enjoyed this very much,—never slept so soundly nor felt so fresh on waking. Of course my friends predicted malaria from sleeping out of doors so near the fogs from the river, but I haven’t had even a sniffle! I exercise a great deal and have grown very much stronger. It seemed pretty hard at first to live on one meal a day and exercise too, but I persevered and feel better for it. Every one here is astonished at my progress and increase of strength. At first I think they rather resented my not coming to the table, and they openly declared the foolishness of living without meat; but they have ‘sick spells’ which now I never do, and they can not endure heat or cold as I can. I think I can dimly see your position, and begin to realize the simplicity of certain problems generally regarded so complicated.”—(Mrs. S., Washington, D. C., writing from Wadley’s Falls, N. H.)
I feel that my readers will absolve me from the charge of egotism in thus introducing the testimony of this poor lady, the victim of malpractice in the first instance, who, after passing through course after
course of drug medication at the hands of eminent, and so-called skillful physicians, at last begins, not dimly, as she herself says, but clearly, as I believe, to see the simplicity of the health question; and especially ought I to be pardoned when I here distinctly remark that I claim to be only the contemporary of thousands upon thousands, physicians and laymen, who have become converts to Hygienic Medicine; being convinced that the proposition is as true as it is simple, that, in general, substances which are injurious for healthy persons to swallow, are even more deleterious to the sick.
CHAPTER XVII.
COFFEE, MEDICINALLY AND DIETETICALLY CONSIDERED.—THE
TRUE THEORY OF STIMULATION.[84]
“The chief constituent of the coffee berry, the alkaloid caffeine—in chemical analysis recognized as identical with that of the tea plant, theine—when separated from the other constituents, ... so as to be seen in its perfect purity, appears in snow-white, silky, filiform crystals, flexible and fragile, without odor, but having a mildly bitter taste.... But it remains an important consideration that this crystallized constituent ... is built on the chemical type of the alkaloid, a class of bodies which nature forms in plants, but not in food-plants—bodies that include narcotics, stimulants, hypnotics, deliriants, poisons, tonics; some of them affecting the whole nervous system, one to excite and another to depress; and others influencing only parts of the nervous system, for special functions of the body.”[85]
[84] This paper first appeared in the Boston Journal of Chemistry and Popular Science Review, May and June, 1882.
[85] Professor Albert B. Prescott, in Popular Science Monthly, Jan., 1882, “Chemistry of Tea and Coffee.”
“Medically speaking, this theine has a totally distinctive action from the infusions of which it forms a
part. In the form of an infusion of tea or coffee, we have to deal with a large proportion of astringent matter, in the form of tannic acid, and with the presence of the essential oil, which is an excitant to the nervous system, and is the substance to which must be ascribed disorders of the nervous system which result from tea and coffee drinking, such as palpitation of the heart and sleeplessness. The theine, upon the other hand, of which there is about one-tenth of a grain in an ordinary cup of tea, is the restorative agent to the nervous system, and is opposed, in its therapeutic properties, to the action of the essential oil. The infusion, therefore, of tea or coffee may induce palpitation in a heart liable to excessive or incoordinate action; but theine, on the contrary, may be looked to, therapeutically, to quiet palpitation. The infusion, by being an excitant, may prevent sleep. Theine, by being a restorative and an indirect sustainer and regulator of the circulation, may induce sleep. Individual medical investigators have, more than this, attempted, from time to time, to show that the action of theine is allied to that of quinine.”[86]
[86] “Tea and Coffee as Nervines,” by Dr. Lewis Shapter, in British Medical Journal.
It can not be questioned that the administration of coffee, in the form of an infusion or otherwise, is entirely in accord with the theory and practice of medicine at the present day. It is, however, a fact well known to practitioners, and indeed generally to “laymen,” that the constant and long-continued use of any medicine transforms its “remedial” influence
into one promotive of disease that may perhaps demand the curative aid of some other drug.
A strong infusion of café noir (administered, it is to be presumed, to one not an habitual user) has been recently claimed by a celebrated French physician as an effectual antidote for the blood-poison that exists in typhus, typhoid, and yellow fevers. While this may be true, I am sure that there are, on the other hand, good grounds for the belief that the habitual use of coffee as an article of diet aids materially in the accumulation of the poison, and in the production of that abnormal condition or quality of the tissues of the body which the vital forces seek to rectify by means of the expulsive efforts which constitute the symptoms of typhoid and other fevers. Indeed, Dr. Segur, who evidently regards coffee as the nearest approach to the Elixir of Life, claims, as one of the benefits resulting from its use, that “it lessens the waste of tissue, and therefore renders less food necessary.” Now, to interfere with or hinder any of the normal processes of the organism, especially those most vital to the economy, as, for example, that of the constant breaking down and excretion of the tissues, is not only to invite, but the impairment of these functions in and of itself constitutes, disease. He further says, “After a heavy meal, it relieves the sense of oppression and helps digestion.” What it really accomplishes, however, in such cases, is this: it mitigates the immediate effects of excess by diluting and washing away a portion of the food (of course unprepared for intestinal digestion), and, after
the first congestive effects have subsided, by producing anæmia of the stomach, thereby hindering digestion, it relieves temporarily, but at great cost ultimately, the sense of oppression produced by a gluttonous meal. By hindering digestion, in this or in any other manner, as, for example, by resuming muscular or mental labor directly after eating, we may prevent or delay plethora—the surcharge of the blood with nutritive material that results from the rapid absorption of an over-full meal;[87] but later on there will take place in the alimentary tract more or less fermentation of its undigested contents, which, with the foul and noxious gases generated thereby, will, to a greater or less degree, be absorbed into the circulation. Thus we observe the two-fold effect of this most delicious and seductive beverage: by “lessening the waste,” it prevents the body from remaining sound in its tissues, (see index: “fossil bodies”) and causes blood-poisoning from indigestion. For if, by reason of anæmia of the stomach and intestines, the digestive fluids are not secreted in sufficient amount to preserve it, “the food rapidly undergoes chemical decomposition in the alimentary canal, and often putrefies.”[88] This accounts for the gas coming from the stomach and bowels of persons troubled with indigestion and constipation, who frequently complain of a rotten-egg taste in the mouth. “This gas, in its poisonous effect, is similar to hydrocyanic or prussic acid, only
not so powerful. It is a very destructive agent in its interference with those vital processes concerned in ultimate nutrition, robbing the blood corpuscles of vitality, and preventing the transformation into tissue of the nutriment conveyed by the circulation, and of worn-out tissue into waste, thus poisoning the blood and nervous centers, and disturbing the whole animal economy.” In view of this state of things, need we search with microscopes for the causes of sickness, go outside of our own bodies for “malaria,” or look to any extraordinary circumstance as essential to generate the most deadly diseases? According to the recent experiments (on dogs) of M. Lennen, communicated to the Paris Society of Biology, coffee does produce “anæmia of the stomach, retards digestion, and, the anæmia repeating itself, ends by bringing on habitual increased congestion of the stomach, which, according to M. Lennen, is synonymous with dyspepsia.”
[87] As explained elsewhere (p. [201]), gentle exercise in the open air, after such a meal, though not the best, is nevertheless a remedy.
[88] Effects of Excess in Diet, “Physiology and Hygiene,” p. 402, Huxley.
It is not difficult, then, to comprehend why the final effect of coffee must be especially injurious, if not disastrous, to asthmatics and “consumptives,” the head and front of whose disease is dyspepsia, pure and simple. (See “Consumption.”) The British Medical Journal, after noting the experiments of M. Lennen, and favoring his conclusions, goes on to say: “It is well known—and English physicians have laid great stress upon this point—that the abuse of coffee and tea often brings on gastralgia, dyspepsia, and, at the same time, more or less disturbance of the apparatus of innervation.” The question naturally arises, What
constitutes an “abuse” of a medicine? I should say its daily use as a beverage.
Coffee is a purgative—a very agreeable form of breakfast pill—but, as with all purgative medicines, an increasing dose is necessary, and its final effect is constipation, with no end of possibilities as a result of the retention of waste matters in the blood. Constipation, however produced, is a predisposing cause, and the continuance of the habits that have produced and now maintain it constitutes a sufficient exciting cause, of such diseases as neuralgia, rheumatism, erysipelas, fevers of various sorts (including scarlet fever and “head cold,”) and, with the aid of sewer gas insufficiently diluted with outdoor air—by means of ventilation—diphtheria, or any of the zymotic “diseases.” Worst of all, those more terrible maladies (because more permanent and enduring, and unrecognized as symptoms of disease), as nervousness, peevishness, irritability, and general unreasonableness, are due, in great measure, to impoverishment of the blood; the nerves are insufficiently nourished, and the brain is “set on edge” by the poisoned circulation.
Professor Prescott makes this very interesting remark with regard to the chemistry of coffee and tea: “But the change of guanine into theine is easily accomplished. It is perfectly practicable to bring guano material to the laboratory, and send away the same atomic elements transformed into the snow-white, silky crystals of theine. Given only sufficient demand for the pure stimulant principle of tea and coffee, and a market high enough above the cost of its vegetable
sources, and it might then safely be predicted that not many months would elapse before companies with thousands of capital stock would engage successfully in the chemical manufacture of theine from guano. Then, very likely, rival companies would establish the claim to manufacture a still purer article from certain of the waste substances of the world—articles more accessible than guano.”
As to the nutritive properties of coffee, although the food constituents of the berry are considerable in quantity, yet so deficient are they in digestibility that, in the infusion especially, it is more than doubtful if they are of advantage in supporting life, under any circumstances; indeed, I have no doubt that the poisonous effects of the alkaloid and tannin far outweigh any gain from the nutrients. At any rate, he would be a bold man, indeed, and I doubt not a defeated one in the end, who should attempt to imitate Mr. John Griscomb’s fast of forty-five days (which was attended by no discomfort even), substituting coffee infusion for pure water.
Coffee interferes with digestion, and, consequently, with nutrition, aside from its specific or general effects upon the digestive organs, by the manner in which it is usually taken: a mouthful of food and then a draught of the beverage prevents the necessity of chewing[89] and prohibits the secretion of the saliva and its admixture
with the starchy elements of the cereals and vegetables, so essential to the preparation of this class of food for digestion further on. The first process in the transformation of starch into blood, is its conversion into grape sugar, and we know that saliva fulfills this function; and while it is believed that the intestinal juices also act in the same manner, still, we are not at liberty to suppose that the preliminary change designed to be begun in the mouth is unnecessary. Or, if it be in a measure true that this fluid, being constantly secreted and swallowed, thus performs its legitimate function, it is certain that the salivary glands are injured, their functions impaired, and the quality and quantity of their secretions modified by the ingestion of hot, astringent fluids; and this must certainly be one of the injurious effects of tobacco-chewing or smoking. No one would suppose for one moment that the glands of the liver, or kidneys, for example, could continue their offices satisfactorily in face of constant contact with a poultice of tobacco, corresponding in size to an ordinary quid, which would, in the mouth of a novice, produce purgative effects, often within one minute from its application. In fact, it may be relied upon that the ingestion into the mouth or stomach of any substance that causes the bowels to “act,” in the common understanding of this term, whether the dose be in solid or liquid form—tends to, and the constant
or frequent use of such devices will, impair and permanently injure the entire alimentary tract, from mouth to anus, and all its secreting and excreting glands.
[89] The prevalence of “bad teeth” is in my opinion referable chiefly to three causes: (1) innutrition resulting from the use of impoverished or indigestible food substance, (2) the use of hot drinks, (3) non-use of the teeth; dental exercise is the best dentifrice. Observe the quality, whiteness and clean condition of the dogs’ teeth: from early youth their “tooth-brushes” are bones, which they are constantly gnawing. Bread-crusts, or wheat-kernels, would do the business for our young growing children, replacing “candy,” for instance.
Coffee is a diuretic, and hence its habitual use promotes disease of the kidneys. “Very warm drinks are in themselves debilitating to the stomach, but the addition of the properties of tea, coffee, or other herbs, burdens the kidneys and urinary apparatus with an unnatural amount of labor continually. (See Bright’s Disease.) These organs, kept constantly over-excited, must become debilitated, and preternaturally irritable, and this condition of debility and irritability extends sympathetically to all the surrounding viscera; finally, the abdominal muscles themselves become relaxed, and, with the general nervous exhaustion produced by the active nervine and narcotic properties of the herb throughout the system, a foundation is laid for the whole train of maladies, displacements of organs, disordered functions, and ‘weaknesses,’ which are so general at the present day.”
Again, coffee is often referred to as a respiratory food. It does, in small doses, and at first, have the effect to excite abnormally the nerves governing the respiratory movements, as well as those of the heart, stomach, etc.—stimulates them; hence the tendency, finally, to sluggish action of these organs, and even paralysis: a peculiar type of “nightmare” often met with among coffee and tobacco users, illustrates this well, although the connection is not usually comprehended,—a feeling of suffocation, following one of pressure,
or “rushing feeling,” at the base of the brain, as it is often described; usually observed at night just as the individual is dropping off to sleep, seemingly at the very moment of “losing” himself, and very naturally, too, at this particular moment: prior thereto there had been somewhat of a constrained feeling, perhaps, unobserved by the victim, who, while awake, would continue the process of breathing by means of an unconscious, but still real, degree of voluntary effort. In sleep, the suffocation which ensues causes the victim to wake with a start and with a violent palpitation of the heart; or he may not succeed in rousing himself: this means death. In fact, all stimulants and poisons, as tobacco, coffee, distilled liquors, etc., tend to local and general paralysis.
Coffee is styled the drink, par excellence, of the brain-worker. Cases like the following are by no means rare: Under the influence of two or three cups of strong coffee the brain of an essayist works satisfactorily, perhaps for hours; the hands and feet meanwhile growing cold and clammy, and the entire surface “chilly,” while the brain throbs with congestion, until, finally, the mind becomes confused, strange mistakes are made, words are repeated or misspelled, and although the over-stimulated but now clogged and exhausted brain can see, dimly outlined within itself, pages, whole chapters perhaps, that must be written now or be forever lost—or at least his diseased imagination thus pictures it—still he finds it impossible to proceed, and with a martyr spirit, or perhaps despairingly, he ceases from his labors. A night of disturbed
sleep (see article on Insomnia) almost surely follows, and during its waking intervals the brain often does its best work, which is worse than lost, unless the sufferer rises in (what should be) “the dead hours of the night” to record his brilliant thoughts. This effort he is often loath to make: he can think, or rather can not stop thinking, but he feels too weak to rise. Imperfect, however, as may be his repose, still, he may, with the aid of fresh stimulation, be enabled to take up his work again for the day. This may go on indefinitely, but with less and less satisfactory results from month to month,—neuralgic pains, “nervous headaches,” or other evidence of visceral irritation, meantime adding to the sufferings to be endured,—until, after a time, becoming alarmed, he feels the need of a long vacation. If, however, in spite of all premonitions of danger, he keeps on denying himself the “rest” (from stimulation as well as from labor) he so much needs, it is like pulling a heavy load up-hill, and a little later he finds himself utterly prostrated. Whether, now, he dies speedily of paralysis, “heart disease,” or “nervous prostration”; fails gradually and dies of “consumption”; or recovers some degree of health, after a long illness, the cause of his disease is believed by himself, friends—and physician, perhaps—to have been “overwork.”[90] In fact, it is the effect of stimulation
inciting to excessive brain, to the neglect of physical, exercise; the brain is clogged by its own unexcreted waste, and the entire system unbalanced and unstrung. It is in such cases that a resort to “tonic treatment,” beef-tea, or a “generous diet” of flesh-food—for which, perhaps, a fictitious appetite is created by the use of “regular” or irregular bitters—often destroys the patient’s last chance for recovery. “It is,” says Professor Brunton, “piling on fuel, instead of removing ash.”[91]
[90] The same amount of the stimulant alone (coffee, tobacco, wine, or what not), without the hard work that tended to aid in its elimination, would have made quicker work of it. What such a person requires under these circumstances is to give his brain rest from severe mental application. Nor is it, in my opinion, sound doctrine to say that a weary-brained man may rest by rushing at muscular exercise, or vice versa. To a certain extent the rule holds good; but the exhausted or very tired man requires a period of absolute rest, before taking up any form of work. At the proper time, however, he will be improved by taking up active exercise in the open air, and performing daily such regular muscular and literary work as he can comfortably, however little this may be, without any sort of stimulation other than that derived from simple, nutritious food and pure air. (See article on Consumption for hint as to exercise.)
[91] “Indigestion as a Cause of Nervous Prostration,” Popular Science Monthly, January, 1881.
The illustration here given is one of the worst cases, but such instances are frequently observed among the class usually designated as brain workers, not only, but among business men, whose work, scheming, mishaps, and unnatural habits altogether, bring them to sick-beds and premature graves; while mild forms are met with constantly everywhere.
Whatever degree of eminence our brain-workers may hope to attain under any form of stimulation, before their lives shall be prematurely ended, all may rest assured that by obeying the laws of life and building up a healthy body they will, in the long run—the “run” made longer thereby—do more and better work without than with artificial aid. The stimulus of good
health is far better than that derived from any stimulating drink. The most brilliant productions of the brain, under stimulation, may, strictly speaking, be called premature births.
Professor Proctor, in the paper before alluded to, further says: “Notwithstanding the adoption of theine-containing beverages by mankind at large, we can not hesitate to commend that robust habit which discards all dependence on adventitious food, even on so mild a stimulus as that of the tea-cup, and preserves through life the fresh integrity of full nervous susceptibility. And probably there was never a time when there were so many persons as now who are disposed, by conviction and by a desire for a stalwart physical independence, to refuse to fix any habit that holds the nervous system.”
Dr. Segur asserts that “habitual coffee-drinkers generally enjoy good health and live to a good old age.” We find, however, that a very large proportion of those coffee-drinkers who are observing and conscientious freely confess to the ill effects of the beverage: It makes them “nervous, irritable, or gives them headache frequently,” they say; and it is quite common to hear them declare that they would leave it off if they could, but they “depend on it—it is the principal part of breakfast.” Often enough it is all the breakfast taken. It prevents hunger or appeases it by rendering the stomach anæmic, and its stimulating effects are mistaken for added strength. And it is even worse where the coffee-drinker is at the same time a full-feeder; for, are we not told that this beverage
“lessens the waste of tissue and renders less food necessary?” Quite a percentage of even robust people, beginning to feel, or to recognize after having long felt, the twinges of dyspepsia do, either on their own judgment or by the advice of the family physician, give up the habit, and find great benefit from the change; and but for clinging to other unnatural practices, they might often bid adieu to all their physical ills.
A few, comparatively, of the most vigorous men and women, it can not be denied, do “enjoy good health and live to a good old age,” in spite of many injurious practices, including the habitual use of the stimulant coffee. But even these have their intervals of suffering, more or less severe—“attacks” that better habits would prevent. Of the latter class, out of scores whom I might mention, the experience of O. B. Frothingham is noteworthy. He says: “Although no positive ill effect has been traceable to either of them [tea and coffee] or wine, all of which have been used sparingly, yet, were my life to live over again, I should accustom myself to abstinence from all three. It seems to me now, on looking back, that something of dullness and languor, something of exhaustion and dreaminess, something of lethargy, something too of heat and irritability, may be chargeable to a practice not in any grave degree harmful or blameworthy. The faculties have been less keen and patient than they would have been under a strictly natural regimen.”
It might, perhaps, in this connection, be profitable to ask,