PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
Swine have generally been considered "unclean," creatures of gross habits, &c.; but these epithets are unjust: they are not, in their nature, the unclean, gross, insensible brutes that mankind suppose them. If they are unclean, they got their first lessons from the lords of creation, by being confined in narrow, filthy sties—often deprived of light, and pure air, by being shut up in dark, underground cellars, to wallow in their own excrement; at other times, confined beneath stables, dragging out their existence in a perfect hotbed of corruption—respiring the emanations from the dung and urine of other animals; and often compelled to satisfy the cravings of hunger by partaking of whatever comes in their way. All manner of filth, including decaying and putrid vegetable and animal substances, are considered good enough for the hogs. And as long as they get such kind of trash, and no other, they must eat it; the cravings of hunger must be satisfied. The Almighty has endowed them with powerful organs of digestion; and as long as there is any thing before them that the gastric fluids are capable of assimilating, although it be disgusting to their very natures, rather than suffer of hunger, they will partake of it. Much of the indigestible food given to swine deranges the stomach, and destroys the powers of assimilation, or, in other words, leaves it in morbid state. There is then a constant sensation of hunger, a longing for any and every thing within their reach. Does the reader wonder, then, at their morbid tastes? What will man do under the same circumstances? Suppose him to be the victim of dyspepsia or indigestion. In the early stages, he is constantly catering to the appetite. At one time, he longs for acids; at another, alkalies; now, he wants stimulants; then, refrigerants, &c. Again: what will not a man do to satisfy the cravings of hunger? Will he not eat his fellow, and drink of his blood? And all to satisfy the craving of an empty stomach.
We know from experience that, if young pigs are daily washed, and kept on clean cooked food, they will not eat the common city "swill;" they eat it only when compelled by hunger. When free from the control of man, they show as much sagacity in the selection of their food as any other animals; and, indeed, more than some, for they seldom get poisoned, like the ox, in mistaking noxious for wholesome food. The Jews, as well as our modern physiologists, consider the flesh of swine unfit for food. No doubt some of it is, especially that reared under the unfavorable circumstances alluded to above. But good home-fed pork, kept on good country produce, and not too fat, is just as good food for man as the flesh of oxen or sheep, notwithstanding the opinion of our medical brethren to the contrary. Their flesh has long been considered as one of the principal causes of scrofula, and other diseases too numerous to mention: without doubt this is the case. But that good, healthy pork should produce such results we are unwilling to admit. We force them to load their stomachs with the rotten offal of large cities, and thus derange their whole systems; they become loaded with fat; their systems abound in morbific fluids; their lungs become tuberculous; their livers enlarge; calcerous deposits or glandular disorganization sets in. Take into consideration their inactive habits; not voluntary, for instinct teaches them, when at liberty, to run, jump, and gambol, by which the excess of carbon is thrown off. Depriving them of exercise may be profitable to the breeder, but it induces a state of plethora. The cellular structures of such an animal are distended to their utmost capacity, preventing the full and free play of the vital machinery, obstructing the natural outlets (excrementitious vessels) on the external surface, and retaining in the system morbid materials that are positively injurious. At the present time, there is on exhibition in Boston a woman, styled the "fat girl;" she weighs four hundred and ninety-five pounds. A casual observer could detect nothing in her external appearance that denoted disease; yet she is liable to die at any moment from congestion of the brain, lungs, or liver. Any one possessing a knowledge of physiology would immediately pronounce her to be in a pathological state. Hence, the laws of the animal economy being uniform, we cannot arrive at any other conclusion in reference to the same plethoric state in animals of an inferior order.
Professor Liebig tells us that excess of carbon, in the form of food, cannot be employed to make a part of any organ; it must be deposited in the cellular tissue in the form of tallow or oil. This is the whole secret of fattening.
At every period of animal life, when there occurs a disproportion between the carbon of the food and the inspired oxygen, the latter being deficient,—which must happen beneath stables and in ill-constructed hog-sties,—fat must be formed.
Experience teaches us that in poultry the maximum of fat is obtained by preventing them from taking exercise, and by a medium temperature. These animals, in such circumstances, may be compared to a plant possessing in the highest degree the power of converting all food into parts of its own structure. The excess of the constituents of blood forms flesh and other organized tissues, while that of starch, sugar, &c., is converted into fat. When animals are fed on food destitute of nitrogen, only certain parts of their structure increase in size. Thus, in a goose fattened in the manner alluded to, the liver becomes three or four times larger than in the same animal when well fed, with free motion; while we cannot say that the organized structure of the liver is thereby increased. The liver of a goose fed in the ordinary way is firm and elastic; that of the imprisoned animal is soft and spongy. The difference consists in a greater or less expansion of its cells, which are filled with fat. Hence, when fat accumulates and free motion is prevented, the animal is in a diseased state. Now, many tons of pork are eaten in this diseased state, and it communicates disease to the human family: they blame the pork, when, in fact, the pork raisers are often more to blame. The reader is probably aware that some properties of food pass into the living organism being assimilated by the digestive organs, and produce an abnormal state. For example, the faculty of New York have, time and again, testified to the destructive tendency of milk drawn from cows fed in cities, without due exercise and ordinary care in their management, giving it as their opinion that most of the diseases of children are brought about by its use. If proof were necessary to establish our position, we could cite it in abundance. A single case, which happened in our own family, will suffice. A liver, taken from an apparently healthy sow, (yet abounding in fat, and weighing about two hundred pounds,) was prepared in the usual manner for dinner. We observed, however, previous to its being cooked, that it was unusually large; yet there was no appearance of disease about it; it was quite firm. Each one partook of it freely. Towards night, and before partaking of any other kind of food, we were all seized with violent pains in the head, sickness at the stomach, and delirium: this continued for several hours, when a diarrhœa set in, through which process the offending matter was liberated, and each one rapidly recovered; pretty well convinced, however, that we had had a narrow escape, and that the liver was the sole cause of our misfortune.
Hence the proper management of swine becomes a subject of great importance; for, if more attention were paid to it, there would be less disease in the human family. When we charge these animals with being "unclean creatures of gross habits," let us consider whether we have not, in some measure, contributed to make them what they are.
Again: the hog has been termed "insensible," destitute of all those finer feelings that characterize brutes of a higher order. Yet we have "learned pigs," &c.—a proof that they can be taught something. A celebrated writer tells us that no animal has a greater sympathy for those of his own kind than the hog. The moment one of them gives a signal, all within hearing rush to his assistance. They have been known to gather round a dog that teased them and kill him on the spot; and if a male and female be enclosed in a sty when young, and be afterwards separated, the female will decline from the instant her companion is removed, and will probably die—perhaps of what would be termed, in the human family, a broken heart!
In the Island of Minorca, hogs are converted into beasts of draught; a cow, a sow, and two young horses, have been seen yoked together, and of the four the sow drew the best.
A gamekeeper of Sir H. Mildmay actually broke a sow to find game, and to back and stand.
Swine are frequently troubled with cutaneous diseases, which produce an itching sensation; hence their desire to wallow and roll in the mire and dirt. The lying down in wet, damp places relieves the irritation of the external surface, and cools their bodies. This mud and filth, however, in which they are often compelled to wallow, is by no means good or wholesome for them.