That the prevalence of over-eating is a general error in society, especially among the sedentary classes, is strongly presumable, even without direct proof, from two almost characteristic circumstances,—namely, the frequency of indigestion in one or other of its numerous forms, and the almost universal use of purgative medicines, with a view to remove from the system the superfluous materials which have been poured into it without any natural demand.
It is perfectly certain that, in the natural state of man, the bowels are quite able to act regularly without the aid of laxatives. If they are not, the Creator must have failed in accomplishing his aim—a conclusion which no rational mind can arrive at. If, on the other hand, they are intended and constituted to act without external aid, it necessarily follows that a wide departure from the order of nature must have taken place somewhere, to produce the inactivity which is now so generally complained of, especially among the middle and higher classes, and among females. On the principle we have laid down, of nourishment requiring to be proportioned to waste, it will not be difficult to explain in what this departure consists. It is in the mode of life being by far too sedentary to admit either of the natural waste, which alone renders nourishment necessary, taking place, or of that constantly recurring contraction and relaxation of the abdominal and respiratory muscles, which have been pointed out as aiding so effectually the peristaltic motions of the intestinal canal. If, in conformity with the diminished wants of the system, we reduce the quantity of food and increase the exercise, neither the oppression of repletion nor the need of opening medicine will be felt. But if, along with diminished exhalation and diminished muscular action, we persevere in eating copiously of nutritious aliments, either digestion must fail, the system become too full, or some artificial stimulus be given to aid the bowels in expelling its superfluous aliment.
Such, accordingly, are the results observable in every-day life. One is saved for a time from more serious evils by his stomach becoming enfeebled, and refusing to digest the excess of nourishment which it receives. In another, whose digestion is more vigorous, the system becomes full and excited to the brink of active or inflammatory disease, a sudden attack of which hurries him to the tomb. While a third gets rid of the load by stimulating the bowels to higher action than is natural to the mode of life: in other words, artificial waste is excited by purgatives, to supply the place of that which ought to result from the active use of the bodily powers, and which alone renders a full diet proper or safe.
It is not enough, then, to sit by the fire, blame Nature, and lament over our unfortunate constitution, which obliges us to make such constant use of medicine. In the great majority of instances, Nature is more willing to do her part than we are to do ours, and all that she requires of us is to fulfil those conditions without which she is powerless, and we are sufferers and unhappy. If we exercise our minds and bodies in healthful occupation, and seek to inhale the pure atmosphere which God has spread around us, so as to impart that gentle impulse to the stomach and bowels which I have already described as necessary to their action, we shall have no need of laxatives to assist them. But if we choose to neglect His laws and to live in bodily inaction within doors, and thus deprive the bowels of all natural aid, let us at least take the blame to ourselves, and not unjustly throw it upon the Ruler whose injunctions we thus practically despise. And if, while leading this inactive life, we continue to gratify taste by eating much more than waste requires, and thus stand in need of purgatives to enable us to throw off the load, let us at least be just, and, instead of lamenting over a defective constitution, let us deplore the ignorance which has hitherto blinded us to the perception of the truth, and led us to blame a Being whose arrangements are so evidently intended for our happiness.
During the active years of childhood and youth, when a strong instinct impels to much locomotion in the open air, how rarely do we find the stimulus of purgatives necessary to the proper action of the bowels, except after errors in diet, or some unusual accident! And what is it that induces imperfect activity in later years, if not the change in the habits, occupations, and mode of life? If the lively and bounding girl, whose loose and unconstrained attire admits of the freest motion and fullest respiration, passes in a few months from the exuberant and playful indulgence of her feelings, intellect, and muscular system, to the quiet and composed inaction and confined dress of a sedate young lady, who never walks out, except at a measured pace to school or to church, is it really wonderful that, with an undiminished diet, her stomach and bowels should begin to act with less vigour, and that, in time, her constitution should be so far impaired as to render necessary the constant use of laxatives? The stomach and bowels, in fact, are regarded very much as if they were independent powers residing within us, and placed there purposely for our molestation. So many heavy charges are continually brought against them that they can scarcely ever be found in the right. They are blamed for every act of mischief which cannot be clearly proved against another organ; and yet, influential as they are in effecting our comfort, they are treated by us with very little care or ceremony. Their powers and wishes are consulted in nothing, but their backs are loaded, at the caprice of their owners, worse, as Sir F. Head observes, than any pack-horse; nevertheless we abuse them most emphatically when they sink to the earth overwhelmed by the weight imposed on them. They are, in short, the scape-goats which must bear all our physiological delinquencies, and save us the pain of blaming ourselves. If they feel uneasy after a heavy meal, it is not we who are to blame for having eaten it. No! it is the fish which lies heavy on the stomach, or the stomach which is unfortunately at war with soup, or potatoes, or some other well-relished article. We have nothing to do with the mischief, except as meek and resigned sufferers. We never eat more than enough. We never devour lobsters, or oysters, or salmon, or cheese, or any thing which experience has told us our enfeebled stomachs cannot digest! We are too prudent and self-denying for that. And yet, somehow or another, our stomachs get hold of all these things in spite of us, and we must pay the same penalty as if we had eaten them deliberately, and with malice prepense! The case is hard, no doubt, that we cannot lead indolent and slothful lives, and yet enjoy the incompatible luxury of having the appetite of a rustic and the digestion of a tiger:—but since we are so unfortunately constituted that we must act like rational creatures or suffer the penalty, would it not be a wise proceeding to set a better watch on the stomach, and try to subject it to more effectual control?
In mature and middle age, after the effervescence and boisterous activity of youth are over, still greater caution than before becomes requisite. Growth no longer goes on, and nourishment is needed merely to supply waste; and, accordingly, the appetite becomes less keen, and the power of digestion less intense. If the individual continues from habit to eat as heartily as before, even after changing to a sedentary mode of life, the natural vigour of the digestive system may enable it to withstand the excess for a time, but ultimately dyspepsia, or some form of disease dependent on indigestion, will certainly ensue. The attempt to combine the appetite and digestive power of early youth with the altered circumstances and comparative inactivity of mature age, is the true source of the multitude of bilious complaints, sick-headachs, and other analogous ailments, now so common and so fashionable in civilized society; and they will never be got rid of so long as their exciting causes are allowed to operate with unrestricted freedom.
The stomach, like every other organ of the body, is, for the wisest purposes, allowed a certain range, within which it may exercise its functions without injury to health; and it is only in virtue of such a power that it can adapt itself to the different circumstances in which an individual may be placed. If every trifling change in the quantity or quality of food were to be followed by mischievous consequences, no one could retain health for a single day; and if the stomach had no power of partially adapting itself to a particular kind of aliment, every change of place and of climate must soon have been attended by the loss of health and life; because there are scarcely any two places or countries in which precisely the same food would be set before us.
According to this law of adaptation, which, of course, has its limits, the stomach may be accustomed to the reception of either a larger or a smaller quantity of food than what the necessities of the system require. If it is accustomed to too much, and less than usual be allowed, an unpleasant feeling of vacuity will arise, accompanied by a craving for more; but after a few days the unpleasant sensation will disappear, and the feeling of satisfaction be as great as if a full meal had been taken, and digestion will become more healthy and vigorous; whereas, if more food continues to be taken than what the system requires, merely to gratify the temporary craving, ultimate bad health will be the inevitable result.
This is precisely the error which is generally fallen into. The stomach is accustomed during youth to receive and digest a larger quantity of food than what is requisite to carry on growth and repair the ordinary waste of the system; and from custom, not from want, we continue to fill it as liberally after growth is completed and waste is diminished, as we did before, when both were at their height. And if by any chance we eat less for a day or two, we mistake the temporary sense of emptiness for the indications of appetite, and are not satisfied till it is removed. The natural consequence is, that we educate the stomach to demand more food than the system requires, and more than it can itself continue to digest; and hence the numerous evils which we daily witness as fruits of indigestion.