We have already spoken of the constant need of light, in order that the body may be healthy, and have suggested some simple rules about the use of heat, either in Turkish or ordinary baths. But these natural aids to health may, as we have said, be used as directly remedial agents in case of disease, or to correct existing bodily defects. Much scientific investigation has lately been made into the healing properties of electric light, whether used merely as light, or, as some hold, to put external electricity into the body; and it has been found to cure, not only weakness of the system, acting as a tonic, but even such tubercular diseases as lupus. We should not, however, recommend anyone to dabble with electricity, still less to go through a course of treatment except under skilled medical supervision, and this treatment by electricity comes outside the scope of this book.

Massage and rubbing, however, which can often be performed by a man on himself, are, for certain complaints, among those simple and excellent remedies which can safely be practised by anyone.[17] In the case of a strained muscle, for instance, in muscular rheumatism or lumbago, or when owing to some accident a man accustomed to exercise cannot get it, massage and rubbing are invaluable. In the latter case, the massage ought to be over the whole body, and so must be performed by someone else; but half the small local injuries which cannot well be avoided, can be greatly alleviated by such means, while an attack of lumbago or muscular rheumatism, which without such treatment might incapacitate a man for a week, can often be entirely got rid of by the employment of this remedy. The skin should be made soft and pliable by hot water, and any decent oil or embrocation may be used; not so much, perhaps, because it is in itself beneficial, but because the rubbing, which is beneficial, thus becomes easier to the manipulator, and spares the skin of the patient; for it is impossible to stand more than a minute or two of dry rubbing, if the rubbing is vigorous, owing to the soreness which it produces. In the same way, though the cause of lumbago (usually, if not always, connected with the liver) cannot be removed by massage, yet massage enormously alleviates the discomfort which often amounts to really severe physical pain. And half an hour’s massage in the small of the back, a dose of uric acid solvent with every meal, and an abstention for a day from meat and alcohol may be sufficient to discharge most cases at any rate half-cured.

Another remedy we suggest—it is likely to be highly unpopular—as a cure for a very large number of disorganisations of the digestion or liver, is complete abstention from food, even for one meal only. For it is quite possible to be really bilious and yet feel reasonably hungry; but it is in such a case false to argue that hunger indicates food. In the same way a slight upset of the liver often induces great drowsiness, whereas to lie in bed sleeping inordinate hours is quite the worst thing to do. Nor is there any possibility of mistaking bilious-hunger or liverish-drowsiness for the healthy forms. It is even unnecessary to go into the point at all, for everyone knows quite well the difference between them. So if you are biliously-hungry, fast; if you are liverishly-sleepy, take exercise. It is possible, of course, that you need medicine, but try simpler remedies first.

Nervousness, that extraordinarily elusive foe to happiness, may arise from two causes, either from an overstrung condition accompanied by excitability, or from exactly the opposite cause—namely, weakness, and the need for tonic. In the first case—the two, again, are unmistakably different—it may be useful to try a less stimulating and irritating diet, and accompany it with plenty of exercise, followed by rest and muscular relaxation. In the second case, the same alteration of diet, substituting nourishing foods for the stimulating ones, and plenty of rest, with perhaps less exercise will be useful. In both cases, of course, medicine may be needful, but it seems to be almost a postulate in the question of health, to prefer, if that is sufficient, a perfectly wholesome rÉgime without medicine, to the continuance of one that perhaps does not entirely suit you, with the addition of medicine. Medicine, no doubt, often is useful, and many of the nerve-tonics which so plentifully bedeck the pages of magazines that one would think that the Empire had an attack of nervous prostration, may be excellent medicines. But why take medicine, if as good results can be obtained without it? It is possible that you must—or at any rate think that you should—do more work than you can properly stand. If the duty is clear, and if it is also perfectly clear that you had better cheerfully give up the chance of working as well as you would like to work, unless you take a tonic, then by all means take a tonic which you know medicinally to be a sound medicine; but first see if there is not some possible means, such as alteration of diet, or, very likely, less stimulant, or a little regular exercise, of managing without that medicine. Strychnine, for instance, cannot be called an ideal food even in the smallest quantities.

Two other very common symptoms of some slight nervous derangement are restlessness and staleness. By restlessness we mean the disinclination often amounting to inability to settle down to any one thing. It is a particularly common symptom of the present day, when many people seem to be literally unable to have any fixed object of life, or to remain in the same place for more than a few days together. In acute forms this becomes a nervous disease of such seriousness that a regular rest-cure has been often prescribed—and with great success—for it: the patient goes to bed and stops there for several weeks, and is allowed neither to read, nor to talk, nor to make the smallest exertion that is avoidable. And in a less degree for ordinary restlessness the same treatment is applicable, and an increased allowance of sleep is desirable; or, if not of sleep, of deliberate rest; for the evil is due to over-excitation of the nerves without sufficient nourishment. And the nourishment of the nerves is repose.

Staleness, again, which we may define as a failure of co-operation between muscles and will, and which is most noticeable in athletic pursuits (since in ordinary life slight sluggishness in co-operation is not practically noticeable) arises also from fatigue of the nerves, due to excessive work, want of nourishment, or monotony of employment. To take the smallest imaginable instance, supposing two men, well trained in matters of eye, attempt merely to hit a lawn-tennis ball backwards and forwards over the net, as easily and gently as possible, they cannot keep it up for a quarter of an hour. Each stroke is simplicity itself, less than the A B C of the game. Yet by the monotony and tiresome iteration of it, their nerves get bored; there is no failure of muscular power, but they are unable to hit with the minimum of correctness after a very few minutes. Here is temporary staleness in its most elementary form, but it is some similar nerve-failure which is at the root of most staleness; incapability of correct work occurs without such fatigue of the muscle as would account for it; and to repeat the metaphor likening the muscle to the receiving instrument in a telegraph system, and the nerve to the wire through which the message passes, it may be a failure or a fault in the wire, though the instrument be intact, and the message (from the brain) be perfectly sent. That particular wire, or set of wires, must, therefore, be given rest, for it is mainly by rest that health and power come to nerves. In other words, change of exercise is required; or, if the whole system is a little out of gear, complete though temporary rest; or, again, a nerve-tonic may be needed; light, air, and cold water may set things right. Or, since the harmonious working together of all the parts of the body is conducive to correct work by any one nerve, it may be that the digestion is primarily at fault.

It is in connection with staleness that we may consider that daily and deadly enemy of strong and vigorous living—namely, Fatigue. If fatigue were nothing more than the natural and logical outcome of sound and healthy exercise of mind and body, the question would be simple enough, and we could take it offhand as one of nature’s danger signals, enjoining rest. For it is one of the primary postulates that exertion must be succeeded by rest, and thus fatigue would be only the instinctive demand of the tired organs. But it will occur at once to most readers that the feeling of fatigue, anyhow, is in no way proportionate to the amount of exertion, bodily or mental, that has been undergone; more than this, bodily exercise, and in many cases mental exercise, instead of producing, actually seems to remove the feeling of fatigue. Clearly, then, the mere sensation of fatigue does not necessarily indicate the need of rest, or sleep, or food. A man, especially if he has dined late and heavily, may awake in the morning, even though he has had a good spell of sleep in an ill-ventilated room, feeling tired. Yet that feeling of tiredness is removed, not by further dozing, but by exercise, fresh air, or often brain work. But the contradiction is only apparent; there are, it is true, several forms of fatigue, but fatigue generally can be properly considered under one head. It will be necessary, however, to go back to a few simple physiological principles in order to make this quite clear.

In several of the simplest phenomena incident to life, we are utterly ignorant of processes. We know, for instance, for certain that we breathe in air rich in oxygen, and breathe out air full of carbonic acid gas. We know, again, that the proteid which we eat and digest and assimilate in our food becomes body-cells. We know that when we use our muscles we use up these body-cells, break them down and turn them into waste products; that when we use our brains some similar exertion of nerve is implicated. How these changes take place we do not know; that they do take place is absolutely certain, and it is in connection with these changes that fatigue occurs. A deficiency in the supply of oxygen given to the lungs is parallel to a deficiency in the supply of proteid given to the digestion; in both the organs are starved. Thus, to take the instance already given, the gentleman who feels fatigued in the morning, had better go out of doors; the longer he lies in his stuffy bedroom the more tired he will become. This is one of the causes of the fatigue from which he is suffering—namely, a starvation of his body in point of oxygen. He would feel fatigued in the same way, if he was starved in point of proteid. His fatigue, though he has taken no bodily or mental exercise for hours, and has been resting, is genuine fatigue consequent on an insufficient supply of oxygen. Therefore, he had better get out of doors, and take exercise so as to make up the deficit.

This unhappy gentleman whose case we are considering may have other causes of fatigue as well, even though he never takes any exercise bodily or mental, and habitually consumes large quantities of solid food. In fact, it is the food itself, with which he hopes to refresh exhausted nature, which is very likely tiring to him. He may habitually overtax his digestive organs, and almost certainly he will have in his system, owing to his sedentary and gluttonous life, a great quantity of waste products (among which is uric acid, the father and mother of gout), which in themselves are causes of fatigue. The system is clogged—the engine, so to speak, is running laboriously,[18] with all sorts of grit and refuse hindering the smooth working of its wheels and bearings. And this fatigue may be called chronic fatigue; as long as the excess of waste products remain in the system there will be disinclination for exertion, and fatigue rapidly ensuing on it.[19] The cure is to get rid of the waste products, as far as may be, by means of exercise, and by encouraging the system to throw them off by the action of the skin, the kidneys, and the bowels, and to remove the causes of the waste products in the future by avoiding those foods which are fruitful in them.

Now here, again, we find that what we may call healthy fatigue is surprisingly allied to this gluttonous fatigue, though in most cases, probably, the cure for one is the opposite to the cure for the other. The sedentary large-eater we should recommend, broadly speaking, to take exercise (extreme cases are liable to apoplexy, however), with a view to getting rid of his waste products. But it is the presence of waste products, also, which partly, at any rate, cause the feeling of fatigue in the man who has played a hard set at tennis, for exercise, as we have said, breaks down the body-cells which become waste products.[20] New cells, it is true, are, in the case of all healthy people tired with exercise, even then in process of formation, but the local fatigue of the muscles is largely due to the presence of these waste products, which the exercise has produced. Thus, strangely enough, the ignoble alderman is suffering from a cause closely allied to that which makes the open champion of the world at any game tired after his brilliant and successful defence of his title.

It is impossible in the small limits of a section to enter more fully into the physiology of this fascinating phenomenon, and we must refer the reader who wishes to know more about it to Dr. Alexander Haig’s work on the subject,[21] and merely note that in this way exhaustion and so fatigue are brought about both by a want of food—temporary starvation—and also by an excess of food which causes excess of waste products. In the same way, too, though food may be needed, yet to bolt a heavy meal will not meet the case satisfactorily, since much of the nourishing value of the foods will be lost, as they will not be given to the stomach in a form in which it is possible for it to assimilate them, and also the digestive and excretive organs will be severely taxed, and fatigue in them will be produced.

As we have said before, fatigue, even when produced healthily, so to speak—namely by the exercise of muscles in the open air—may be quite disproportionate to the work accomplished. This question is dealt with under the chapter on exercise, and it will be sufficient here merely to mention that the wrong use of muscles (e.g., slow heavy movements for the wrists as in many dumb-bell exercises), or the use of the wrong muscles, as, for instance, excessive employment of the muscles of the arm when what is needed is the use of the large body muscles, are common causes of unnecessary fatigue in games and athletics. There are, furthermore, many mental causes of general bodily fatigue, for in the intimate interweaving of mind and body, as we have seen, the one suffers with the other. Thus worry of the mind, nervousness, depression, make one feel physically tired, not because the muscles have been used, but because the nervous energy whereby they work has been exhausted by mental trouble. Here, if a man can bring himself, by an effort of will, to take an interest in some bodily or mental pursuit that will draw his mind off himself and his worry, he will quite certainly be the better for it, for the nerves that have been wearing and exhausting themselves over the trouble will have rest. And rest, as we have said before, is to nerves what food is to the stomach and oxygen to the lungs.

A common result of faulty digestion is a tendency to grow fat. Just as extreme thinness results from failure to digest food properly and so get the nourishment out of it, so a certain kind of obesity is likewise a wrong digestion of food; and though the symptom of “laying on flesh” is often ignorantly considered a sign of health, it may be distinctly a sign of bad digestion, if the flesh that is laid on is fatty. Certain foods, such as sugar and oil, are in themselves fattening; so, also, is starchy food, even if not properly masticated. An avoidance of excess of liquid is a good precaution against obesity, if under that word we class abnormal weight; so also is the habit of making the skin act properly by baths and exercises; so, too, are exercises for the abdomen, which facilitate the processes of digestion (though these exercises should not be employed when the digestion is at work—i.e., just after meals). And everyone should remember that it is far easier to avoid getting fat, than to stop the process of accumulation of fat when once it has set in. Prevention here is not only better, but easier than cure. By a strange perversity of nature, fat people have often a craving for fattening foods. But this must obviously not be taken as a healthy instinct; it is an instinct of a diseased condition.

Another common enemy of health is constipation, and it is an enemy mainly because waste material, which should be ejected, is retained in the body, and during its retention necessarily disperses a certain amount of poisonous gases and substances through the body. But it is a question whether the drugs which many people are accustomed to take almost daily with a view to its prevention or cure are not as bad in their effects. And the sad thing is that an enormous amount of such constipation could be cured by perfectly simple and natural means. Diet is largely responsible for it; so, too, is the lack of exercises which facilitate the movements of the bowels. People who suffer from it should be sparing in their use of stimulants, especially of those which have a large percentage of alcohol, and in their use of white flour, and of flesh foods, the place of which should be taken by other foods, such as brown bread, tomatoes and fruit, fresh if possible, or stewed. These are without doubt the best preventives, and also the best remedies. Above all things it is most injurious to get in the habit of relieving constipation by doses of salts, or of other medicines even less innocent. The sort of diet which both prevents and alleviates it is a natural remedy, as also are the bending and leg-raising exercises which help the action of the bowels. They are worth trying.

But perhaps of all enemies to health, laziness is the most powerful and the most insidious. The health of any function depends, as Aristotle said long ago, on its energy; and to be employed is a better drug against most ills that flesh is heir to, than any that can be found in a chemist’s shop. Whether it is headache you suffer from, or depression, or (if your malady is very acute) atheism or gout, the probability is that work, either bodily or mental, would have prevented it, and that work, bodily or mental, will cure it. For owing to this reaction of body or mind on each other, there is no doubt that boredom and discontent will actually produce indigestion, just as indigestion in the stomach will actually produce depression of mind. Again, to take a tiny instance, there are few people who would care to eat their way through a long dinner alone, but give them cheerful companionship, they will digest with avidity that which if they ate by themselves they could barely swallow. So also in bigger matters: occupy your mind always with any subject that interests it, provided it is not harmful, and as far as your well-being is concerned it does not matter what this subject is. If you ever feel bored, you may be quite certain that your boredom is in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred due, not to the stupidity of others, but to the stupidity of yourself. Stupidity of that order is one of the least admirable things in the world; and for the sake of your self respect try to be a little less of an idiot. However poor you are, it is probable that most things worth having, even Greek gems and fine music, are accessible to you, the one at the British Museum, the other at the Queen’s Hall. Surely there is something in the world which involuntarily finds its way into your thoughts at vacant moments? Encourage that; work at it; get to know some thing worth knowing about it. Take a pride in your body if you will, you might do worse; get to play something passably; weight-lift even, if you really enjoy it, or if it leads you to a pride in your physique; do anything to be occupied. For this is the great remedy of all—work. It is certainly not worth while to sit and consider how noble you are and what few opportunities you have, nor is it worth while to sit and consider—except very occasionally—how base you are and how many opportunities you have. Instead, go and take one of them. Do something, whether you suffer from headache or atheism, do something, make boots—even very badly like Tolstoi—or make history like Napoleon, or make geography like Livingstone. Whatever your age is, there should be something you like, which is not harmful. Do it, with both hands, for there is health—work!

THE END.

FOOTNOTES: