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Kitabı oku: «Popular Books on Natural Science», sayfa 8

Bernstein Aaron David
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CHAPTER VIII.
INJURIOUSNESS OF DRINKING LIQUOR

He who accustoms his stomach to secrete gastric juice only after a stimulus effected by spirits, destroys his digestive power. Unhappy man! He is no longer able to digest food, unless he stimulate his stomach with liquor. The already weak stomach is, by this habit, weakened more and more. Soon a small quantity will no longer suffice; a larger portion must effect what formerly was done by the smaller; this goes further and further, until finally the drinker becomes – a drunkard.

It is well to look at the terrible consequences of such a condition more closely, to obtain a clear idea of it; and to examine all the circumstances which unfortunately produce it, mostly among the poorer and working classes.

The condition of an intoxicated person is to be distinguished from that of a regular drunkard. The former has taken alcohol; it goes into the blood, arrives in the brain, and excites the nerves to increased action. The nerves of the heart are also affected by it, and cause violent beating of the heart and pulse. The blood courses through the veins and rushes to the brain. This produces illusions of the senses, and confusion of sensations; sparks before the eyes; buzzing in the ears; dizziness, which makes the walk unsteady; redness of the skin and eyes; increased perspiration; greater activity in the lungs; a shorter and more rapid breathing; excitement of the mind to anger, and dimness of the faculties of judgment, causing the inebriate to believe that he possesses superior strength. If he begins to move about, these manifestations, and especially the dizziness, increase; the slightest obstacle in the road causes him to stumble or fall; he cannot raise himself to his feet, nor can he sit up; but, lying on the ground, he is unconscious of everything around him; overcome with complete exhaustion – the effect of the reaction – he at last falls asleep; but his sleep does not rest him, although, if sufficiently long, it will restore the unfortunate to consciousness. He now suffers from that peculiar fatigue and lassitude which usually follow intoxication.

To this abject state every one is brought who in the enjoyment of spirits loses self-control. It is an unworthy, disgraceful and disgusting condition; but even the best of men may once fall into it; all the more so, if he is no habitual drinker. Strictly speaking, this subject belongs to another chapter; it belongs to that of intemperance, dissoluteness or bad society. If such a calamity has befallen an otherwise good man, let him amend his bodily ache by a cold bath; and his moral ache by an earnest vow not to do the like again.

Far more serious, however, is the lot of the real drunkard. This belongs to the chapter on nutrition, for it is true, we are sorry to say, that drunkards are produced mostly through want of proper nutriment; and it is always the case that constant intemperance is accompanied by that sickly condition in which the stomach is unable to digest solid food.

In a word, he who has accustomed his stomach to perform digestion only after the use of stimulants, has laid the foundation for drunkenness. With wealthy people, we know it to be frequently the case, that they take something "strong" in order to promote digestion; but the danger is here less great. For if the rich be convinced of his wrong, even at a late period, he can yet proceed in his reform energetically. He can afford to take liquid, easily digestible food instead of solid. He will eat little meat; but that little very savory and prepared in a manner to be easily digested. He will choose but light vegetables. He will flavor his breakfast with caviare and lemon; and at dinner he will relish rich stewed fruit, by means of which appetite and digestion are increased. Should he not feel strengthened immediately after dinner, he has sufficient time to wait till his food is transformed into blood. He takes a nap after dinner, and a pleasant walk in the open air, to get an appetite for his well-selected supper.

Now, all these are excellent means to restore the wealthy man's appetite and digestive powers, even if he has gone so far in drinking as to weaken his stomach. It is not virtue and temperance that causes the less number of drunkards among the rich, but the ready compensation they can afford, to cure themselves. And it not unfrequently occurs, that when the rich man loses his fortune, or, in other words, when he becomes poor, he becomes a drunkard. People generally excuse this, saying, "it is from despair;" but the truth is, that now he can no longer afford the costly compensation which previously preserved him from such a fate.

But what will the poor do in such a case more especially the workman?

CHAPTER IX.
THE POOR AND THE LIQUOR

The poor workman who has accustomed his stomach to perform digestion only through the excitement of a previous stimulant, cannot, even if he knows the miserable condition he is in, abandon this bad habit without almost superhuman efforts.

Working makes him hungry; but his stomach not being able to digest solid food, eating becomes disagreeable to him. His relaxing strength, however, demands support. His vital activity is suppressed; he must have a fresh supply of strength to be able to work and earn his living. To accomplish this, he knows no other means than liquor again! For, unfortunately, experience has taught him that spirits not only stimulate him for the moment and increase his vital activity, but that they can also be to him a kind of substitute for food.

It was not until quite recently that science told us how and in what manner the use of spirits may actually promote the working power of the starving. It is of the utmost importance to obtain a correct idea of this.

Work promotes evaporation and respiration. Evaporation, however, that is perspiration proper, is nothing but a part of the food we have taken, and which is thus secreted from the body. Precisely the same holds good with the breath we exhale; it consists of carbonic acid, which is likewise formed from the food we have taken. A man in state of rest does not perspire and breathe so much as the man at work; therefore he needs less food. If, on the other hand, a person works without taking food, the perspiration and carbonic acid of the breath are formed from the muscles of his body; for which reason he must greatly decrease, both in strength and volume. We must bear in mind, however, that it is one of the qualities of spirits to be decomposed in the body very easily into water and carbonic acid; the water is then secreted in the form of perspiration; the carbonic acid, by exhalation. Thus, if a man works without food, he becomes reduced immediately, because perspiration and breath are supplied from the flesh of his body; while if he drinks liquor, perspiration and breath are formed from the liquor itself, instead of his body, which thus, partly at least, remains intact.

This is the solution of the great problem, viz., "How can drunkards live a long time on nothing but spirits, and, moreover, how can they work?" We know it now; liquor furnishes them the material for perspiration and breath; and their body is not nearly so much taxed as would be the case, if they were to take no spirits at all. Since, then, the drunkard cannot eat, and even if he could, would not be nourished, because food passes through him undigested, he must needs continue taking spirits even if he works but little. Spirits help him at his work, and save his body from being consumed.

That spirits are no articles of food, has been known long; but it was not known until recently, why spirits can be a substitute for food, or, more correctly, a kind of saving of food.

Unfortunately, liquor is as deplorable as a substitute as it is fatal as a means of saving. It is only calculated to entirely destroy the doomed man that uses it.

Now, is it not more judicious to understand the reason why the drunkard cannot abstain from spirits, than to endeavor to reform him merely by "prayer" and stories about the "devil in the alcohol?" And is it not of the highest importance to all, that the friends of humanity should take care that the workman has good and healthy food, and that he be always able to earn enough, so as not to be obliged to replace bad food by liquor?

The workman who has nothing but potatoes to eat, is bound to become a drunkard. This food is insufficient to afford him a proper quantity of carbonic acid for the purpose of breathing; he therefore must draw for this from his body, and, since he must needs work for his living, he takes to spirits to save his body from being consumed. Many an "Apostle of Temperance" would, in a similar situation, act no better. For this reason let us all provide healthy food for the working class; intemperance will then greatly diminish.

Owing to the importance of the subject we have spent much time over "Breakfast," and the chapter on "Spirits" connected with the same; but we could not help it; nay, we must ask our readers' pardon for continuing the subject. We propose to touch upon the sad consequences of intemperance, and desire to give the wives of the workmen a hint, by which they may succeed in checking the vice of their husbands and the misfortune of their families.

CHAPTER X.
THE CONSEQUENCES OF INTEMPERANCE AND ITS PREVENTION

The digestion of the drunkard, as we have seen, is greatly impaired; the process of nutrition entirely changed. There is a change in the tissues of the interior of the body. The inner organs are encumbered by fat; even under the very skin, layers of fat are formed. It is this that gives the drunkard that bloated appearance, which is very characteristic, and an evidence of the fact that the evil has reached a high stage. The stomach and the heart, the latter now much enlarged, are in an unnatural manner enveloped by fat. The action of the heart, at times immoderately increased, at times fearfully lessened, causes the blood to rush impetuously even to the finest blood-vessels of the skin, and to widen them considerably. Hence the reddened face of the drunkard. The chest being overburdened with fat, the lungs are unable to expand properly, and cannot therefore feed the blood with a sufficient quantity of oxygen, which would make the blood red; therefore we notice that the drunkard's blood is of a bluish color; his nose is blue, his lips, and often his whole face, have a bluish hue. His mind is always clouded, the activity of his nerves partly increased, partly weakened; his hands begin to tremble, and become unsteady; soon his very feet refuse to serve. His breath is in the beginning saturated with alcohol, so that it can be smelled; in a little while perspiration, nay the whole body, is imbued with alcohol, and cases have been known in which the body, on coming in contact with fire, began to burn, as a wick dipped in alcohol, inflicting a terrible death upon the unfortunate victim. Many die from apoplexy or paralysis of the brain, in most cases preceded by delirium tremens. When it is considered that all this has its beginning only in this, that the unhappy man has accustomed himself to promote digestion by means of spirits – when this is well considered, no one will find it strange that we wish to discourage from the use of liquor everybody, especially, however, those among the laboring classes who work with fire. He who takes proper care of himself will always know how much of spirits he can take and when he must use it; then, and only then, the enjoyment of the article in question cannot be considered a crime.

It is difficult to present to our readers a general rule for temperance, yet we may here state a principle, the earnest observance of which we heartily recommend.

There are many people who say: "I can stand a little liquor very well." They mean by this that a little liquor does not intoxicate them. But this is a dangerous standard to take. Not the possibility of intoxication, but the welfare of one's stomach should be consulted. As long as breakfast can be digested without the use of spirits there is no danger, even if after having eaten fat, bacon, etc., a desire for liquor should be felt; but when a person must needs take spirits after his breakfast in order to be able to digest it, then the danger becomes imminent, and it is high time to consult a physician about this seemingly insignificant circumstance; it is best to tell him frankly the object of the visit, viz., the desire to avoid the cheap remedy, the liquor. If the physician be the right man he will gladly spend advice and help.

In such cases, however, the housewife can do even more than the doctor.

The attentive housewife will notice the bad condition of her husband's stomach, and if she is judicious and wishes to be the benefactress of her household, she can, by a small sacrifice, easily prevent great misfortune. Above all, she must bear in mind that only a well-fed husband can support her and her children. It is a shame that we often see a housewife treat her husband in this respect worse than a horse. The owner of a horse knows that his horse cannot render him good service unless he feeds the animal well; why should woman not comprehend that man, her husband and provider, must be properly cared for? Let every good wife bear in mind, that if her husband takes to drinking, it is mostly owing to her own bad and careless management of her kitchen; let her hasten to remedy the evil. Although it may cost her a sacrifice, yet she owes it to herself and her family to provide her husband with a cup of broth, well seasoned with salt and pepper, when his stomach is weakened. At times she may surprise him with a favorite dish for breakfast, which he will eat with a relish. And let her be especially careful not to cause him grief or anger at his return home, but let her rather prepare for him a good savory dinner, for which he then will save all his appetite.

Such and similar insignificant acts of womanly kindness preserve often husband, wife, and children from disgrace; while the dutiful wife earns the esteem and gratitude of her family and of her country. This is a merit which in course of time will be duly rewarded.

CHAPTER XI.
DINNER

We wish to speak now of dinner, the principal meal of the day. Here, too, we shall take for standard neither the unhappy poor, who must eat what little he can obtain; nor the opulent rich, who finds a pleasure in eating what others cannot obtain. We shall take for base the plain household of the citizen, who takes healthy meals in order to strengthen him for renewed activity.

What may have been the reason for putting the principal meal in the middle of the day?

It was done for the reason that eating, too, is a labor; a labor which requires rest. Now bodily fatigue and appetite constantly keep pace with each other; they manifest themselves in the body in intervals of three or four hours. Since, then, we must rest at noon from the fatigue of the morning's labor, it is best for us to use this time of rest for our dinner; all the more so as the labor of eating ought not to be performed during manual labor. And because just at the middle of the day we rest from our labor and prepare ourselves for the afternoon work, it is natural that we should eat our principal meal at that time.

But this meal needs to be prepared carefully. The housewife is chained to the kitchen, because this meal is distinguished from others principally in this, that it is usually taken warm.

The question arises in the first place, Why must food be cooked? Is it not more natural to take the food as nature gives it to us? Why does man eat nothing raw except fruit? Why does he take such pains to grind, bake, boil, fry, etc., while the animal can live without all this? Again, whence does it come, that man is so very dainty in regard to eating and drinking, and that he uses an infinite variety of articles of food, as does no other creature in the world? Are there not animals that live on meat only, and others that live only on plants? Why, then, does man need mixed food, that is, partly meat and partly vegetable food?

To all these questions there is but one answer.

Nature herself has pointed this out to man; and experience, the natural instructor of mankind, has taught man how he can do best what nature wishes him to do.

The human stomach is so constituted that it can digest but very little of raw food. Just as the nutritive part of the pea is enclosed by a hull, so in every organic food the nutritive element proper is contained in a hull, called cell. The nutritive element of the potato, for example – the starch – is enclosed in millions of small cells, which are indigestible for our stomach. By means of good magnifying glasses, these cells, invisible to the naked eye, may be plainly seen. If the potato were eaten raw, these cells, together with the nutritive element in them, would leave the body unchanged. But if the potato is boiled, fried, or baked, the cells, by their expansion from the heat, burst, and thus allow the starch to be free. Now, while animals have been given a digestive apparatus strong enough to dissolve the hardest cells – pigeons, for example, swallow and are able to digest raw pease – man has been endowed with intelligence which enables him to prepare his food artificially.

Cooking, therefore, is as natural to man as the act of chewing; for chewing, the crushing of food with the teeth, on the part of animals that live on plants, is nothing but the tearing asunder of cells. Animals that have no teeth, birds for example, possess immensely strong powers of digestion. It would be as unnatural for the ox, who has good teeth to crush peas with, to swallow them entire as the pigeon does, as it were unnatural for man to take pease raw while he has the means of cooking them.

We often call art what really is nature in man; for his mental gifts are natural to him; women, therefore, when they perform the art of cooking, practise a natural art.

CHAPTER XII.
NECESSITY FOR VARIETY IN FOOD

Let no one believe that it is from mere daintiness that man is fastidious in regard to food, and that he lives on a great variety of victuals.

The human body is the transformed food which he has eaten. It is quite correct that man can live on bread and water a long time; but man's nature is so varied, his qualities are of such numerous kinds; his character, his impulses and passions, his wishes and desires, his thoughts and labors, are so infinitely varified and so much exposed to change, that man's body, the bearer of all these elements, must also be formed from material of the most diversified kind.

It is a common observation that animals which take uniform food are very much poorer in mind than those animals that feed upon richer and more various kinds of food. Nay, it has even been proved that the character, the whole nature of an animal may be completely changed by its food. Very properly, therefore, does the genial naturalist, Moleschott, begin his excellent treatise, "Our Articles of Food," with the following words: "Food has made the wild-cat our house-cat;" thus showing that food may completely change the character of an animal, and more, it may even change the animal's body. And if civilized man is a being of a higher order, more spiritual and more intellectual than the savage, we can ascribe it to no other cause than the impulse his food gives him, not to sink down to the savage, but, by varying his food as much as possible, to bestow upon his body many superior qualities.

Nature herself has undeniably impressed upon man, that she wishes him to take nourishment of different kinds.

Those animals that live upon plants, and such as feed solely on meat, are entirely different from each other in regard to their bodies. The teeth of the former, the herbivorous, are broad and flat on the top, like our molar teeth. They serve to crush vegetable fibres and to chew the cells which contain the nutritive element; while the other class, the carnivorous, have but pointed teeth, like our eye-teeth, to tear their food asunder. The stomach of the herbivorous is also different; it comprises several divisions which have various functions. For blood is not so readily obtained from vegetable as from animal food, which itself contains ready-made blood. Herbivorous animals are for the greater part ruminators, that is, their food passes from the first division of the stomach back into the mouth, where it is masticated a second time; this is called "ruminating." With the carnivorous this is not the case. Finally, the intestines of the herbivorous are long, because there the final change of the food into blood takes place; a process requiring more time with vegetable food than with animal. For the same reason the intestines of the carnivorous are short, the blood to be formed being already present there.

Considering the fact that man has sharp teeth in front, at both sides pointed teeth, and in the rear of them molars; that his stomach is adapted to the digestion of both vegetable and animal food, and that his intestine is so constituted as to be able to digest and change into blood both kinds, we can no longer entertain any doubt that nature herself bids him to change his food constantly, and to take in such as is of the most varied kind. If, in addition to that, we recollect that exclusive animal food renders an animal wild, quick, and sly, while vegetable food makes it tame, enduring, and slow in mind, it will not be denied that food exercises great influence upon the nature of a being, and it will now be readily understood that it would be a sin, if man were to be forced to take uniform nourishment.

The example of the cat is very instructive; it teaches us that change of food has transformed her into another being, mentally as well as bodily. The wild-cat has short intestines and is an animal of prey; the tame cat has long intestines, and betrays her old character only now and then by cunning and slyness. We also learn from this, that variety of food produces variety of bodily and mental qualities; and lastly, it may be inferred that nature, having fitted man for this variety and given him such diversity of mental capacities, wishes also that his food be well selected and of the greatest variety.

These short remarks enable us to pass to the principal dishes themselves; first to those constituting the principal meal of the day, the dinner, for which very justly the greatest variety of food is chosen.

Bernstein Aaron David
Metin
3,7
3 puan
Yaş sınırı:
12+
Litres'teki yayın tarihi:
03 temmuz 2017
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140 s. 1 illüstrasyon
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Public Domain