XXVI.—Diet.
“It is not the plenty of meat,” says Dr. Scott, “that nourishes, but a good digestion; neither is it the abundance of wealth that makes us happy, but the discreet using of it.”
Whilst under treatment, patients partake of three meals, breakfast, dinner, and supper. The breakfast and supper consist of bread, butter, milk and fruit. Dinner ought to consist of plain food, that is to say, roast and boiled meat, poultry and vegetables, puddings and fruits; fish and soup are not recommended.
Priessnitz is not an advocate for what is considered highly nourishing food; he contends that quantity is more essential than quality. The act of feeding causes the stomach, like other members of the body, to perform its office.
A written case was presented to him of a person treating himself. Priessnitz approved of what was doing, until he came to where it was stated the patient ate roast beef and mutton daily—through this he struck his pen. This opinion of Priessnitz’s seems confirmed by Dr. Beaumont of the United States, who made some useful experiments upon a young man named —— Martin, who was desperately, though not mortally, wounded, by the discharge of a gun, the contents of which entered the chest, and passed through the integuments of the stomach, so that the whole process of digestion was laid open to observation. The most important inferences arrived at by the doctor, from his observations, were—
1st.—That all stimulating condiments are injurious to the healthy stomach.
2ndly.—That the use of ardent spirits if preserved in, produces disease in the stomach.
3rdly.—That bulk as well as nutriment is necessary to the articles of diet.
4thly.—That the digestibility of aliment does not depend upon the quantity of nutritient principles it contains.
Dr. Beaumont further adds, “Here we have incontestable proof, that disease of the stomach was induced, and going on from bad to worse, in consequence of indulgence in ardent spirits, although no prominent symptom made its appearance, and —— Martin was, in his general habits, a healthy and sober man.”
I put the following questions to Mr. Priessnitz:—“Is it requisite to eat meat every day?” “Yes, whilst under the treatment, because of the waste which the operations and consequent exertions occasion.” “In cases of obstinate constipation, animal food must be partaken of sparingly?” “When not under Hydropathic treatment, meat should not be indulged in every day, except where parties are subjected to great exertion or hard labour, and even then it is better to avoid it occasionally. In fact, people would be more healthy if they only eat meat on alternate days, and if all their food were cold instead of hot.”
From the habitual use of hot aliments the lining coat of the throat and stomach becomes distended and weak—hence bronchitis and weak digestion.
To the question as to drinking water. Priessnitz said, “Drink plentifully at every meal, finish by a tumbler or two, and don’t fail drinking five or six glasses daily.”
Experience which is better than a thousand theories, proves that after partaking of indigestible food, or eating too much, a few glasses of water relieve the stomach. One is at a loss to conceive why people should avoid drinking water at their meals, since none suffer from its use, and Nature seems to require it. Those who feel indisposed, by abstaining from food altogether for a day and drinking water, may frequently avoid a serious illness.
Butter is fat food and bad for delicate digestions. The leaner the food the better, to restore tone to the stomach and bowels. To people of strong digestions this does not apply.
If we look around us, we find that three-fourths of the human family live and labour, and digest, without tasting animal food; that the remaining fourth, who indulge in it, do more homage to Apothecaries’ Hall than all the rest. But it is argued, much depends upon climate: then how shall we reconcile the rice of the East, the potato of Ireland, the oatmeal of Scotland, and the rye-bread of Poland? We can easily understand people in hot countries living upon rice, maccaroni[sic], etc.; but if what we understand by the term, nutritious food, is absolutely indispensable, how reconcile ourselves to the potato as the only food for the largest portion of the inhabitants of Ireland? Rye, which is the staff of life to the Poles, is a grain next in degree to wheat; then follow barley and oats. Potatoes are the very worst and lowest description of food. Rye-bread is as manna sent from heaven, in comparison with oatmeal, the chief food of the highlands of Scotland; yet we see strong healthy people in Ireland and Scotland, living solely upon these to a fine old age, without the assistance of the Pharmacopœia.
Does not this prove Mr. Priessnitz is right, when he says quantity is more essential than quality?
The great mass of mankind live on vegetable diet, which comprehends all the products of the earth. An author tells us, “Recent discoveries have shewn that vegetables contain the same elements as flesh: the same gluten, albumen, fibrin, and oily matters that exist in a beefsteak, are also found in our esculent vegetables.”
Experience proves that vegetable diet is lighter and less liable to bring on disease, than one in which animal food largely prevails.
From an early period the philosophers of Greece,—from amongst whom we may cite Zeno, Plutarch, Porphyrus, and Plautinus,—advocated and practised an exclusively vegetable diet. The Pythagorean sages inculcated the same: hence the prevalence of rice diet over the vast and densely-peopled regions of Asia. Mahomet is said to have lived upon dates and water. It is related that the philanthropists, Swedenborg and Howard, were vegetarians; that Newton, Descartes, Haller, Hufeland, Byron, Shelley, and a host of other men of genius, were advocates of a vegetable diet. The continued use of meat produces scurvy, liver disease, rheumatism, gout, piles, etc.
Lamartine is a vegetarian.
On the score of economy, it is ascertained that the same plot of ground which would provide animal food for one man, would feed seventeen on vegetables.
For sick and delicate people, nutritious food should give way to coarser fare when under treatment. Priessnitz says he lost a colonel in the army, entirely from his indulgence in niceties and nourishing food; he could not be induced to confine himself to plain coarse fare: his digestion, in consequence, was always impaired.
Salt is injurious when acid humours or sores affect the body.
All spices, such as pepper, cloves, cinnamon, and mustard, are to be avoided, on account of their stimulating properties: nature gave these stimulants to the Indians, because their burning sky, by enervating the body, rendered them necessary.
In our climate the air is more compressed, and contains a larger amount of oxygen, which predisposes to inflammatory diseases. “Use,” says Priessnitz, “the seasonings nature has given us, and leave to foreigners theirs: nature has provided for man’s wants; our eatables ought, on that account, to agree with us the better.”
Good household or brown bread is considered better than white bread.
Beer, wine, and alcohols of all kinds, are interdicted, as not assimilating with the food. It is a mistake to suppose that such things assist digestion: they have a totally opposite effect. Every museum of natural history exhibits substances preserved in wine, spirits of wine, or spirits, which would be dissolved in water.
A question arises, if, after having undergone the Water-cure, it is requisite to pursue any particular regimen? To this it may be answered, that those who continue a life of temperance stand a better chance of enjoying health and happiness than those who do not; but abstemiousness does not follow the Water-cure as a matter of course, any more than it does medical treatment. It is, however, necessary to abstain from intemperance for a short time after leaving off the treatment, or serious consequences may ensue.
To those who have passed the meridian of life, whose circulation is languid, who have been accustomed to stimulants, Mr. Priessnitz recommends the occasional use of light wines; and in speaking of wine as an alterative, he admitted that there could be no rule without an exception.
Tea and coffee attack the nerves. In my travels through Ireland, I was shocked at the ravages made upon the weaker sex by tea, the abuse of which has become a besetting sin. Give two or three cups of strong tea to one unaccustomed to it, and its effects will be evident upon the nervous system: in most cases it will deprive the recipient of sleep. I have known a strong man who, to cure headache, drank three or four cups of strong black tea, who, a few hours afterwards, trembled from head to foot. The same often attends the drinking of coffee. Dr. Sir Charles Scudamore, in his work on Hydropathy, states that Liebig, the best living chemical authority, said that coffee impeded the digestion of food for one or two hours, its carbonaceous principle requiring oxygen; and that he looked upon green tea as a poison. Tea and coffee-drinkers declare that neither affect them, and refer to persons who have drank both during a long life, and are, notwithstanding, in health. There are exceptions. The Bacchanalian, in like manner, justifies his revels, and the Turk his opium—but “mark the end!”
Stomachs weakened by the continued use of stimulants revolt at milk, which is the only food of most animals when young, and, as such, contains a large amount of nutriment, which is not the case with tea or coffee. I know a lady, the wife of one of Napoleon’s marshals, who, for some complaint, was prescribed a milk diet. During a period of twenty years she has not taken an ounce of anything in the shape of food, having confined herself entirely to milk. Her health has been invariably good, and, though no longer young, can endure an excursion on foot over the mountains of Switzerland better than any of my female acquaintances. Does not this speak volumes in favour of milk as a diet for children or adults?
At Gräfenberg, patients who cannot drink milk mix it with water until the stomach gains tone; others drink sour milk, and find it agree with them, when common milk would not: this is to be accounted for from the milk having already undergone the first process of fermentation, which process would otherwise have taken place in the stomach. Most new-comers to Gräfenberg have a strong prejudice against sour milk, which, after persevering in taking it for some time, generally ends in their liking it exceedingly. Sour milk, with sugar and strawberries, is delicious. Boiled milk, with bread broken in it, agrees with most people, and makes a nourishing meal. To those with whom milk alone does not agree, cocoa, with plenty of milk, is recommended as wholesome and economical.
It has been observed by an able writer, that some people think that to live well means only to eat, and, it might be added, to drink. To hear that a man can enjoy the pleasures of the table, who refrains from wine and beer, and whose only beverage is water, appears paradoxical. Some go so far as to say that they prefer death to purchasing life on such terms, forgetting that a temporary indulgence at the table for a couple of hours may render them uncomfortable for the remainder of the twenty-four, and that the exciting, overcharging, and thickening of the blood, renders them hypochondriacal and morose, and makes invalids of men who ought to be in the enjoyment of robust health. It is hardly to be expected that nature will deal mercifully with him who has for so many years sinned against her mandates: she will, doubtless, sooner or later reward the crimes of lèse majesté committed against her high prerogatives.
“Nothing like the simple element dilutes
The food, or gives the chyle so soon to flow.”
The bon-vivant, from the excited state of his system, is not only more subject to complaints than persons who live temperately, but is more difficult of cure. When overtaken with pain and illness, notwithstanding his stoicism in declaring for a short life and a merry one, no one desires to be restored to health with greater earnestness, or manifests a more ardent clinging to life than himself.
Priessnitz’s assumption that the indigenous products of the country wherein we reside being best calculated for the support of health, is borne out by Liebig, who says: “Even when we consume equal weights of food in cold and warm countries, infinite wisdom has so arranged that the articles of food of different climates are most unequal in the proportion of carbon they contain. The fruits on which the natives of the South prefer to feed, do not, in the fresh state, contain more than 12 per cent. of carbon; whilst the bacon and train oil used by the inhabitants of the Arctic regions, contain 66 to 80 per cent. of carbon.”
Avoiding all excess, it is man’s prerogative to elaborate and assimilate the most heterogeneous aliments, not being limited, like other animals, to any particular food; and it is certain that those who approach nearest to nature, who enjoy the benefit of pure air and lead an active life, do not require to observe any particular rules.
One thing, however, is admitted: the duration of life depends upon the simplicity of our wants. Most people eat too much, especially of animal food. No people talk so much of indigestion, dyspepsia, and constipation, as the English; it has been said that they take more pills and aperients, and pay more fees, than all the nations of the world together! What a distinction from savage life! The child of nature, whose only drink is water, can, without inconvenience, go for days together without food, and then commit excesses that, if indulged in in civilised life, would produce fatal results.
It ought to be observed, that abstinence from wine and spices is compensated by the pleasure water-drinkers take in being enabled to partake ad libitum, of pastry, fruit, and other delicacies of the table, which wine-drinkers dare not indulge in.