"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.