We must rejoice at things as they are; they might be worse! If we should count up we should be surprised to find how seldom the things we fear or worry about really happen. It is a true proverb that “half the trouble never comes.”
Each must learn for himself how best to avoid anger, fear, worry, excitement, hate, envy, jealousy, grief, and all depressing or abnormal mental states. To do so is an art which must be practised, like skating or bicycle-riding. It can not be imparted merely by reading about it.
When, as unfortunately is often the case, the difficulty of maintaining one’s serenity seems insuperable, the battle can often be won by “living one day at a time.” Almost any one in ordinary conditions of adversity has it within his or her power, for merely one day or at any rate one hour, or one minute, to eliminate the fear, worry, anger, or other unwholesome emotions clamoring to take possession. At the expiration of say the hour, or minute, the same power can be exercised for the next ensuing period, and so on until one is caught napping, after which he must pick himself up and patiently try again.
In modern life, which has been gradually speeded to the breaking-point, many people are suffering from a constant oppressive sense of hurry. Most people have “so much to do,” that they can not do it. This fact is of much annoyance and at the same time spurs them on in the vain endeavor to catch up. When once it is realized that the sense of hurry actually reduces the effective speed of work—in other words, that “the more haste, the less speed”—the situation has been reached in which the individual can teach himself some practical philosophy.
An immense help in the field of mental hygiene is to be obtained from religion and philosophy, although this is not the place to advocate any particular form of either, and from the standpoint of hygiene, it does not greatly matter! One may get his chief help from the Bible, from faith-healing cults, from writers like Emerson, from Tagore and other Orientals, or from Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus.
Professor William James commends the adoption of a “religion of healthymindedness” in which we renounce all wrong or diseased mental states, cultivating only the healthy ones, such as courage, patience, optimism, and reverence.
When the mind turns from shadow to sunshine, the body will tend also to assume the radiance of health. Stevenson said that there is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy. The habit of being happy enables one to be freed, or largely freed, from the domination of outward conditions. Though the trait is apparently totally lacking in some, while existing to a high degree in others, experience has shown that conscious cultivation will develop it to an appreciable degree, even in very stubborn cases. As in little Pollyanna’s “Glad Game,” it is possible to find something to be glad about in every situation in life.
The secret of equanimity consists not so much in repressing the fear or worry, as in dropping or ignoring it—that is, diverting and controlling the attention. It does no good to carry a mental burden. “Forget it!” The main art of mental hygiene consists in the control of attention. Perhaps the worst defect in the Occidental philosophy of life is the failure to learn this control. The Oriental is superior in such self-training. The exceptional man in Western civilization who learns this control can do the most work and carry the most responsibility. On much the same principle as the Indians used when their young men were trained to endure pain self-inflicted, we might well devote a few minutes each day to the difficult task of changing at will our attention from the thing which is engrossing it to anything else we choose; or, what is more difficult still, to blank nothingness. When we have sufficiently strengthened this power, we can turn off the current of our thoughts as we turn off the lights and lie down to sleep in peace, as a trained sailor does in a storm.
If a person’s work is drudgery but has to be endured, the making up of the mind to endure it cheerfully, the relinquishment of the doubtful but fascinating pleasure of dwelling upon one’s misery, is found to largely obviate the burden. It is the making up of the mind which presents the difficulty. The truth is that we instinctively shrink from making, without reservation, important decisions as to our future course of conduct. We balk even at really committing ourselves not to worry. A man who, when he complained of his lot, was advised to “grin and bear it,” replied that he’d have to bear it, but he’d be hanged if he’d grin!
The decision which is perhaps the hardest to make and, at the same time, the most important from the standpoint of health and working-power, is the decision not to care too much about the objects we are seeking to achieve. We need not subscribe to the Nirvana philosophy. A certain intensity of desire is normal, but modern life tends to a morbid frenzied intensity. Most of us need, in the interest of mental health or sanity, to moderate our desires. A business man who had set his heart on fulfilling a large responsibility nearly wrecked his health from worry over the outcome. His wise physician prescribed that, before sitting down to his desk each day, he should spend five minutes repeating and impressing on his mind the words, “I don’t give a hang! I don’t give a hang!” The truth is many people fail because of over-anxiety lest they fail. Some invalids die from an exaggerated desire not to die.
A helpful precept, when one is failing in some crucial undertaking from his very over-anxiety to succeed, is to replace the ambition to succeed by a determination to pass the crisis unruffled, whether one succeeds or fails, “He that ruleth himself is greater than he that taketh a city,” and incidentally if we rule ourselves we are far more likely than otherwise to take the city, if that be possible at all.
An ideal course of conduct implies a constant readiness, after all has been done which can be done, to renounce one’s feverish desires and accept whatever higher powers decree, even if it be death. This is one of the supreme aims of every great philosophy or religion. Job (13:15) said, “Though He slay me, yet will I put my trust in Him,” and Christ exclaimed, “If it be possible let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.”
The aids to health discussed in the preceding chapters may be summarized in specific formulas classified under the four heads, Air, Food, Poisons, and Activity, corresponding to the four chapters, and under fifteen sub-heads, corresponding to the fifteen sections.
The application of these rules to one’s daily life must be varied with each individual. The most practical method is for the individual to begin the improvement he would seek by constructing a typical day’s program in which time is provided for, say, breathing and other exercises in bed, bath, toilet, walk to business, meals, amusement, etc., with special notes and memoranda as to the particular faults of omission and commission to be corrected. One might also, as Benjamin Franklin records in his autobiography, keep a daily record for a week as to how nearly the program is lived up to. By dint of such and other stimuli, the transition in habits can be made, after which the “rules” cease to be rules, as carrying any sense of restriction, and become automatic like putting on or taking off one’s clothes.
The above rules embody our preachment on individual hygiene. We have stated them as fifteen separate kinds of procedure. In actual life, however, our acts can not be so separated. The neglect or observance of one rule carries with it, to some extent, the neglect or observance of other rules. For instance, one can not take muscular exercise without, to some extent, taking breathing exercises. Swimming serves as a means of cleanliness, of skin gymnastics, of general exercise and of amusement. A game of tennis implies the practise, to some extent, of at least five of the fifteen rules.
The human body is a “harp of a thousand strings,” which are intended to harmonize. If one of them is out of tune, it is likely to cause discord throughout, while to tune up one helps the harmony of all.
Any one ailment has a far-reaching effect throughout the system. It is because of this far-reaching effect that the “one idea” specialist in medicine has so often thought his particular specialty to be the one and only gateway to all therapeutics and hygiene. The oculist is liable to look at all ailments as related to the eyes; the dentist as related to the teeth; the mental hygienist as related to wrong attitudes of mind. If we examine their claims, we find that they are usually right in their affirmations, though wrong in their denials. It is their affirmations in which we are here interested. They find that the ailments within their own special province extend in unsuspected ways, and to a surprising degree into seemingly remote fields; and that to remedy the special defect which they can treat, will often go a long way toward remedying numerous other ailments.
It has already been noted that eye-strain leads to an astonishing number of serious nervous affections, and that corrective eyeglasses will often work wonders for remedying those ailments and improving the general health. There may be other unhygienic conditions equally responsible for these symptoms, and the correction of which may produce equally wonderful improvement. Vertigo may be due to eye-strain, or it may be due to wrong posture or to pressure of wax on the ear-drum. Diabetes may be aggravated by too much sugar, by infected tooth-sockets, or by too much worry. Tuberculosis may be due jointly to indoor-living, lack of exercise, wrong diet, wrong posture, sexual excess, alcohol, nerve-strain, and numerous other preconditions, besides infection with the tubercle bacillus. The social evil can be fought not only directly by attack on prostitution, and by appeals to self-control and moral ideals, but also indirectly by diminishing the consumption of alcohol and other drugs, for alcohol not only produces abnormal sexual desire but reduces the strength of will by which that desire is repressed. Forel asserts that the social evil can not be controlled until the use of alcohol as a beverage is abolished.
It is not uncommon for people to attribute their ailments to the less important rather than the more important cause, and so fail to get the best benefits of hygiene. Many people bemoan the fact that they sat in a draft and “therefore” caught cold, when what they most needed was not to keep out of drafts but to keep in such condition that drafts would do them good, not harm. Benjamin Franklin, a century ago, believed, what we now know to be true, “that people who live in the forest, in open barns, or with open windows, do not catch cold, and that the disease called ‘a cold’ is generally caused by impure air, lack of exercise, or overeating.”
Most people who are “overworked” are, more properly speaking, simply the victims of bad air, bad diet, poisons, or worry. They believe that because they are tired it must be work which is hurting them. The man who breaks down in middle life commonly imagines that he has ruined his health by overwork. The college girl thinks she has ruined her health by study. All these “overworked” people prove their case by showing that they improve in health when given a vacation. This simply shows that a bad condition can often be remedied by improving the general health in any way whatever, even if the primary source of the difficulty is not reached. They are undoubtedly working beyond their working capacity; but their working capacity is only a fraction of what it would be if they took exercise, were not constipated, did not eat too much, abjured alcohol, or ceased to worry continually. If they lived hygienically in these respects, the work which was a drag might be an inspiration. A physician of wide experience says that every day men come to him broken down in health, invariably telling him that they have overworked; and yet upon questioning them he finds that none of them works as hard as he. Their breakdown was due to the terrible load of unphysiological habits which they had been carrying—a load so great that scarcely any work could be carried in addition.
Other examples might be given of ascribing ailments and disabilities to the less important instead of the more important causes. The error is almost always made of resting the blame on only one cause. In consequence most health-seekers make the mistake of making only one correction in their daily regime of life. One will cease alcohol drinking, another will give up tobacco smoking, another will give up coffee; a third will cease using all “red meats,” another turns vegetarian, another adopts a raw food diet; another takes up outdoor sleeping; another adopts a daily game of golf; another embraces a mental healing cult; another takes up mastication. But great and permanent results require the adoption of an all-round, well-balanced regime.
It is not enough that the individual should know how to live. Knowledge is of no avail without practise. Mr. Moody, the evangelist, once said of religious conversion, “Merely to know is not to be converted. I once boarded a train going in the wrong direction. Some one told me my mistake. I then had knowledge, but I did not have ‘conversion’ until I acted on that knowledge—seized my traveling-bag, got off that train, and boarded one going in the opposite direction.” Many people are on the wrong train in hygiene, as in religion, and know it. They are traveling fast to that kind of perdition which in the end unhygienic living always brings. In fact, a great many people practise unhygienic habits more through indifference than through ignorance. Most people have acquired, by imitation of their neighbors, a great number of unhygienic habits and have continued in these habits for so many years, that they can not get rid of them, except through a great effort of will. This effort they are usually unable or unwilling to put forth unless very strong incentives are brought to bear. Often—in fact, if the truth were known, usually—they wait until ill health supplies the incentive. The man who is most receptive on the subject of health conservation, is, in the majority of cases, the man who has just had some ominous warning of coming ill health; although there is now a small but increasing number who do not wait so long, men who pride themselves on keeping “in the pink of condition.” These are the men who are rewarded for their efforts by enjoying the highest reaches of working-power.
The ordinary man, in ordinary good health, does not want or thinks he does not want to live hygienically. He sees all sorts of imaginary objections to adopting a hygienic life, and closes his eyes to its real and great advantages. One of the objections often trumped up is that the practise of hygiene costs too much—that it can only be a luxury of the rich. It is quite true that here, as elsewhere in human life, wealth confers great advantages. The death-rate among the rich is always less than that among the poor. And yet the rich have unhygienic temptations of their own, while the poor, on their part, are far from living up to their opportunities.
There are really only two material disadvantages from which the poor suffer in their opportunities to live a healthy life: One is unhygienic housing, both at home and at work; the other is unhygienic toil. It must be admitted that millions of unfortunates are unable individually to remedy these two disadvantages in their lot in life. Yet they can, even in these two respects, accomplish much if they take an intelligent interest in hygiene. The graduates of tuberculosis sanatoria are largely among the poor and they are doing much good missionary work in securing better ventilation, both in the home and in the workroom. They find this possible partly by insisting on more open windows in home and workshops, partly by changing their home to one better equipped with windows or situated in the suburbs instead of in the city, partly by changing their occupations, partly by getting the cooperation of their employer or simply by cooperating with him when he is ready to do his part. The workman can also accomplish something through the Trades Unions, especially in regard to hours of work. Employers will increasingly cooperate in this movement, as they come to realize that the securing of efficiency in their workmen is to their interest, and that monotony, long hours, and other unhygienic elements which are now, through sheer carelessness, often imposed on their workmen, bring back in the end big financial losses on themselves.
Except for the evils mentioned—those of housing and working conditions—there are few people so poor that they can not buy the means of living a healthy life. In fact, hygiene is one of the few precious gifts which can be had almost for the asking. Most people can sleep out-of-doors, if they will—if in no other way than by the so-called indoor window-tent—or can take deep-breathing exercises without cost. It costs nothing to stand, sit, and walk erect, to evacuate thoroughly, regularly, and frequently. It costs less than nothing to avoid overeating and overweight, and to be totally abstinent from alcohol and tobacco.
Almost all can allow enough time for meals to eat slowly. Coarse and raw foods are always to be had and are usually cheaper than the conventional soft, concentrated cooked foods. In fact, meat, eggs, and like foods are among the most expensive and the least desirable. If we compare the cost of flour and of the other cheapest food materials, with the cost of oysters, one of the dearest, we find that the latter is fifty times as expensive as the former for the same food value. This takes no account, of course, of the expenses involved in cooking either of them. It has been proved by actual experience that one can live in the best of health on food costing as low as ten cents a day, exclusive of the labor of preparing, cooking and serving. Mrs. Richards, in her “Cost of Food,” says that this is possible anywhere in America within fifty miles of a railroad. The only real objection to living on this minimum expense is the lack of variety. The following is a brief list of foods in ascending order of cost per 100 calories of food value, the cheapest being at the beginning and the dearest at the end: glucose, corn-meal, wheat-flour, oatmeal, cane-sugar, salt pork, rice, wheat bread, oleomargarine, beans, peas, potatoes, butter, milk, cheese, beef-stew, ham, mutton-chops, beef, eggs, and oysters. If the foods in this list be looked up in the table given in the Supplementary Notes for their protein, fat, and carbohydrate contents, it will be seen that a well-balanced ration is possible without the use of expensive foods. In fact, among the cheap foods are some consisting mostly of protein, some consisting mostly of fat, and some consisting mostly of carbohydrate. For instance, cheap sources of protein are skim milk, beans, cheese, and peanuts. Cheap sources of fat are oleomargarine and cottonseed-oil. Cheap sources of carbohydrate, i.e., starch and sugar, are bread, bananas, potatoes, glucose, and even ordinary sugar. If a diet, selected for cheapness, is not at first well balanced, a judicious admixture of one or more of the foods just mentioned, will restore equilibrium. A cheap bulky food is cabbage.
Most of the rules of hygiene cost nothing to observe. But even when hygiene is costly at first, the cost is usually repaid in the end many times over. To ventilate a house in winter always costs a certain additional expenditure for coal, but it is better to pay the coal bill than the doctor’s bills. To sleep out-of-doors costs some extra blankets, bedding, clothing, and roll curtains, but these not only save the cost of heating an indoor sleeping-room, but save also the cost of ill-health. There is no better economy than to keep one’s working-power. To lose it means to lose its earnings and to have, in addition, the heavy expenses of medical attendance, medicines, and nursing, and often to lose life itself with its potential earnings of every sort. In short, an unhygienic life, for the sake of economy, is “penny-wise and pound-foolish.”
Many busy men object to hygiene because, they say, they have no time for it. They imagine that to devote an hour each day to exercise or relaxation is a waste of time and that they are really economizing their time by working that hour instead. We are here referring, not to those who can not control their working-time, but to those who deliberately choose to work when hygiene would require them to play. It is often those who fix their own working-hours, rather than those whose working-hours are fixed for them, who overwork the most. If these could know the suffering which sooner or later follows inevitably as the consequence of this mistaken policy, they would not pursue it for a single day. A slight loss of working-power comes immediately. A careful observer of mental workers found that an hour invested in exercise in the afternoon often pays for itself within a day, by rendering possible more rapid work. He also found an improvement in the quality of his work. The razor-edge of the mind needs daily honing through physical exercise. The same principle applies to all work. It is just as necessary to stop, at intervals, our physical and mental machinery for oiling and repairs, as to stop the machinery of a factory.
Another objection is that the practise of hygiene is “too much trouble.” It is undoubtedly true, that no one who has unhygienic habits can overcome them without a certain amount of “trouble.” The people who get the best results are those who are never deterred by trouble so long as the trouble is worth while. For those who have not the necessary enthusiasm or self-control to break their unwholesome habits by sheer will power, the best advice is to so arrange their lives as to make the practise of hygiene inevitable. One physician in Chicago deliberately got rid of his automobile and other means of locomotion in order to force himself to walk to all his patients, and so secure enough physical exercise. Another man in New York City, with the same object in view, selected the location for his dwelling so that there was no rapid transportation available to take him to his office, making the walking back and forth a necessity from which he could not escape.
The only difficulty lies in overcoming the inertia of acquired habits. After one has changed his habits, it is just as easy to live rightly as to live wrongly. The rules of hygiene are not restrictive, but liberating. They may seem at first restrictive, for they prohibit many things which we have been in the habit of doing; but they are really liberating, for the things we were doing were unrealized restrictions on our own power to work, to be useful, or even to enjoy life. The “rules” of hygiene are thus simply the means of emancipating us from our real limitations. These so-called rules, when tried, will prove to be not artificial but natural, not difficult but easy, not complicated but simple. They are almost as simple as the direction to bathe in the river Jordan. It is, in fact, their very simplicity and availability to which is largely due their deplorable neglect and the failure to realize the wonderful benefits following their careful and continued observance.
Not only a healthy mental attitude toward life, but a healthy mental attitude toward one’s own unhygienic habits is essential. It is a very common thing for a man to romance over his shortcomings, or his unhealthy physical conditions, to make humor of them to his friends. Very often the first step toward a better physical condition is a change in this mental attitude.
Certain it is that more people would practise hygiene if they could be made to realize in some vivid way how much they needed it. Few persons, even when they read and accept the statistics on the subject, really have a picture of the imperative need of hygiene as an integral part of every human life. It is not brought home to them how widespread is illness, how numerous are preventable deaths, how many are the tendencies toward individual and racial deterioration.
The report of the Roosevelt Conservation Commission on National Vitality, indicates that annually there are in the United States over 600,000 deaths which might be prevented if existing knowledge of hygiene were properly applied; that at least half of the 3,000,000 and more sick-beds constantly kept filled in the United States are unnecessary; that the financial loss from earnings cut off by preventable disease and premature death amounts to over $1,500,000,000 annually; and that over 15 years are lost to the average life through the lack of application of knowledge which already exists but which simply has not yet been disseminated and applied.
The health examinations of the Life Extension Institute have revealed unsuspected ailments in persons who considered themselves well, and to an extent which has astonished even those who have long been familiar with these subjects. Among large groups of clerks and employes of banks and commercial houses in New York City with an average age of 27 and all supposedly picked men and women, only 1 per cent. were found free of impairment or of habits of living inviting impairment. Of those with important physical impairments, 89 per cent. were, prior to the examination, unaware of impairment; 16 per cent. of the total number examined were affected with organic heart trouble, 42 per cent. with arterial changes, ranging from slight thickening to advanced arteriosclerosis, 26 per cent. with high or low blood pressure, 40 per cent. had sugar, casts, or albumin in the urine, 24 per cent. had a combination of urinary and other serious impairment, 47 per cent. had decayed teeth or infected gums, 31 per cent. had faulty vision uncorrected.
Among industrial groups, not exposed to any special occupational hazard or poisoning, the figures were as follows: With an average age of 33, none were found to be free of impairment or habits of living inviting impairment. Of those with important physical impairments, 89 per cent. were, prior to the examination, unaware of impairment; 3 per cent. of the total number examined were affected with organic heart trouble; 53 per cent. with arterial changes, ranging from slight thickening to advanced arteriosclerosis; 23 per cent. with high or low blood pressure; 45 per cent. had sugar, albumin or casts in their urine; 26 per cent. had a combination of urinary and other serious impairment; 69 per cent. had decayed teeth or infected gums; 41 per cent. had faulty vision uncorrected.
There are few persons in America to-day who reach the age of forty sound and normal in every part of the body, especially if we include among abnormalities the minor ailments. The extent to which minor ills are prevalent among those who pass for “well” people is not generally appreciated. Once we penetrate beneath conventional acquaintance we almost invariably learn of some functional trouble, such as impairment of heart, circulation, liver, kidneys, stomach; or gallstones, constipation, diarrhea; or insomnia, neurasthenia, neuritis, neuralgia, sick-headache; or tonsillitis, bronchitis, hay fever, catarrh, grippe, colds, sore throat; or rupture, enlarged glands, skin eruptions; or rheumatism, lumbago, gout, obesity; or decayed teeth, baldness, deafness, eye ailments, spinal curvature, flat foot, lameness; or sundry other “troubles.”
These ailments, though regarded as “minor,” should be recognized promptly and accepted as the signal that the person is moving in the wrong direction. There is no need for alarm provided this warning is heeded. Otherwise disaster is almost certain sooner or later to follow. The laws of physiology are just as inexorable as the laws of physics. There is no compromising with Nature. No man can disobey the laws of health to which he has been bred by Nature without paying for it—any more than a man can sign a check against his bank account without reducing the amount. He may not be immediately bankrupt, and until he exhausts his account he may not experience any inconvenience from his great extravagance, but Nature keeps her balances very accurately, and in the end all claims must be paid.
It is true, of course, that some persons have greater resistance than others. If we had a convenient barometer by which to measure daily the state of our vitality, we might register the effect of every unhygienic act. But it is so seldom that endurance is accurately measured that few people appreciate the enormous differences in people and the variations of the same person at different times. These differences and variations have a range of many hundred per cent. Some people can not walk upstairs or run across the street without being out of breath, while others will climb the Matterhorn without overstrain. The fact that certain people have lived to the century-mark in spite of unhygienic living is sometimes cited to prove that hygiene is ineffective. One might as well cite the fact that certain trees are not blown down in a gale or are not quickly destroyed by insect-pests to prove that gales have no tendency to blow down or insects to destroy trees.
The truth is that a person who has so much vitality as to lead him to defy the laws of health and to boast that he pays no price no matter how he lives, is likely to be the very man to exhaust his account of health prematurely. There was, a few years ago, a famous American, possessed of prodigious bodily vigor. He ought to have lived a century. Unfortunately he had this “insolence of health.” He was warned several times against overwork, lack of sleep, and abuse of his digestion. But he merely smiled and claimed that such warnings were for others, not for him. He met an untimely end, due as his physicians believed and as he himself acknowledged, when too late, to his abuse of the great powers with which Nature had endowed him and to the neglect of personal hygiene.
Conversely, an observance of the laws of hygiene affords wonderful results in producing vitality and endurance. Insurance companies are discovering that even weak and sick people, will, if they take good care of themselves, outlive those with robust constitutions who abuse them.
To those unfamiliar with the subject in its larger aspects, the possibilities seem almost beyond belief. As an example of the wonderful gains which can be secured by obeying the laws of hygiene may be cited the case of a young man who a few years ago was scarcely able to drag himself into the sun in Colorado, where he was endeavoring to rid himself of tuberculosis. He not only succeeded, but subsequently, by dint of following substantially all of the rules of hygiene here laid down, became an athlete and capable of running twenty-five miles for sheer love of sport and apparently without the overstrain experienced by “Marathon” runners. Kant and Humboldt are cases typical in different fields of achievement of many of the world’s most vital men who have actually made over their constitutions from weakness to strength. Cornaro says that it was the neglect of hygienic laws which made him all but a dead man at thirty-seven, and that the thoroughgoing reform of his habits which he then effected made him a centenarian. His rules, drawn up four hundred years ago and described in his interesting work “The Temperate Life,” are, so far as they are explained, almost identical with those given in this book. It is difficult to assign a limit to the good which can be accomplished by practising these rules and so minimizing the poisons which usually narrow and shorten our lives.
So far as science can reveal, there seems to be no principle limiting life. There are many good and bad reasons why men die, but no underlying necessary reason why they must die. The brilliant Carrel has kept tissue cells of animals alive outside of the body for the past three years. These cells are multiplying and growing, apparently unchanged by time, to all appearances immortal so long as they are periodically washed of poison and nourished in a proper medium. If we could at intervals thoroughly wash man free of his poisons and nourish him, there seems to be no reason why he should not live indefinitely.
In view of the vast extent of human misery from ill health, the question naturally arises, How does it happen that the world is burdened with so colossal a load? Is it no more than is biologically normal? Is it true that in other organisms, animals and plants, ill health is the rule rather than the exception? Are all races of men subject to the same heavy load?
These questions have not yet received sufficient attention. The answer seems to be that man is suffering from his own mistakes made unconsciously and in ignorance. He has upset the equilibrium which Nature had established among the various powers and activities of his body, and between himself and the outside world. Man has done mischief for his own body similar to what he has done for the natural resources on which he lives. In Professor Shaler’s epoch-making little book, “Man and the Earth,” he shows, for instance, that the little layer of soil on the surface of the earth from which plants and animals derive their nutriment was, before the advent of man, replenished quite as fast as it was washed away, but that after man had put his plow into it and had taken off the protective mat of vegetation, he unconsciously despoiled the accumulation of ages. “In a plowed field, an hour’s torrential rain may wash off to the sea more than would pass off in a thousand years in the slow process of erosion which the natural state of the earth permits.” He also shows that the constant croppings of the soil rob it of nitrogen, phosphorus, and other elements faster than Nature restores them. The problem of conservation is to reestablish the balance which has been lost through the depredations of man, for instance, to lessen soil-wash by terracing, and to restore to the soil the lost elements by supplying nitrates and phosphates and by other methods of scientific farming.
In the same way man has upset his pristine animal mode of living and needs to find scientific ways to restore the equilibrium. Most of the present-day problems of hygiene arise from introducing, uncompensated, the effects of certain devices of civilization. The inventions of civilization have done so much for man that he is apt to unduly glorify them and to overlook the injurious by-products. These by-products are often of prodigious significance to the race. The invention of houses introduced the problem of house hygiene; the invention of clothing, the problem of clothing hygiene; that of cooking, the problem of food hygiene; that of division of labor, the problem of industrial hygiene; and so on. To make these statements more concrete, we may consider some of them in more detail.
The invention of houses has made it possible for men to live in all climates, yet this indoor living is responsible for much disease. The houses give comfortable shelter and warmth and protect us from the elements and from wild animals. But the protection has been overdone. Like his cousin, the anthropoid ape, man is biologically an outdoor animal. His attempt at indoor living has worked him woe, but so gradually and subtly has it done so that only recently have we come to realize the fact. At first, dwellings were really outdoor affairs, caves, lean-tos, tents, huts with holes in the roof and the walls. These holes served to ventilate, though they were not intended for that purpose. The hole in the roof was to let out the smoke and the holes in the walls to let in the light. Gradually the roof-hole developed into a chimney with an open fireplace, which, in turn, gradually changed into a small flue for stoves whereupon it almost ceased to serve any ventilating function. The stove in turn has largely gone and is replaced in many cases by the hot-water or steam radiator, without any attempt at ventilation. The holes in the wall gave way, after the invention of glass, to windows which let in the light without letting in the air. Weather-strips, double windows, vestibule-doors, interior rooms, completed the process of depriving man of his outdoor air, shutting him into a cell in which he now lives—a sickened but complaisant prisoner—often twenty hours of the twenty-four. Tuberculosis, one of the worst scourges of mankind, is primarily a house disease. It is prevalent as indoor living is prevalent, and reaches its maximum in the tenement quarter of a great city.
Only by generations of natural selection could we expect to make man immune to the evils of bad air. The robust Indian and the Negro, whose races, until the last generation or two, roamed in the open, fell easy prey to tuberculosis as soon as they adopted the white man’s houses and clothes. The Anglo-Saxons who have withstood the influence of indoor living for several generations have, probably by the survival of the fittest, become a little better able to endure it, while the Jews, a race which has lived indoors longer than any other existing race, are now, probably by the same law of survival, the least liable to tuberculosis, except when exposed to especially unfavorable conditions of life.
But we, of this generation, can not afford to wait for natural selection to fit the race to an indoor environment; hence the supreme importance to us of air hygiene. We must compensate for the construction of our houses by insisting on open windows, or forced drafts, or electric fans, or open-air outings, or sleeping porches, or the practise of deep breathing, or all of these things.
In the same way, clothing has protected our bodies from the cold but enervated or constricted them as well. The aboriginal tribes, even in cold climates, seldom used clothing. The Eskimo is an exception. The tribes toward the South Pole in similarly cold climates often have little more clothing than a blanket which they hang over their shoulders toward the wind. The weak, pale skin—to whose lack of adaptability we owe the chilling preceding a cold—the bald head, the distorted foot, the corns upon it, the cramped waist, are among the results of clothing ourselves wrongly. Hence we are discovering the need of restoring, as far as we can, the original conditions by making our clothes more light, more loose, and more porous, and, when possible, by taking the “barefoot cure,” or the air bath.
We come next to foods, and note that civilization has invented cooking and artificial foods. These inventions have greatly widened the variety of man’s diet, but the foods of civilization are largely responsible for the decay of our teeth and the abuse of our digestive and eliminating organs.
Judging from man’s teeth and digestive apparatus as well as his general kinship to the anthropoid ape, it is reasonable to believe that, before fire was discovered, man was primarily a frugivorous animal, whose ordinary diet consisted of fruits, nuts, and tender shoots. While man still uses these fruits, nuts, and salads, his chief reliance is on prepared food, bread, butter, meat, and cooked vegetables. The diet of our progenitors must have been largely one requiring chewing, consisting, as it did, of hard fruits and stalks and perhaps also grains and flesh. Observation of manlike apes shows that they chew their food more thoroughly than man. Doubtless nuts constituted a considerable part of primitive food and required cracking by the teeth. The work we now do in flour-mills or the kitchen or with the knife and fork, was then done with the teeth. We even have our cook mash our potatoes and make puddings and pap of our food after it reaches the kitchen. Having already shirked most of the task of mastication by softening and cutting our food before it reaches our mouths, we shirk the rest of it by washing it down with water, or worse. An Italian dentist, who has had a wide range of observation, says that the knife and fork have committed “unpardonable crimes” by robbing the front teeth of their work of cutting. He sometimes prescribes for loose teeth the task of cutting a pound of bread daily. Whether any of it is swallowed or not is not important, but he insists that it must be cut by the teeth.