XIIIThe Fountain of Youth
PROFESSORMaturin’sstudy lamps were dimmed to the mellow glow that makes good talk. But his coffee and cigars were so worthy of the dinner we had just ended that we continued to smoke in silent content, until our host asked about the Vicar’s vacation.
“My plans are about as usual,” answered that worthy, naming his sea-shore place without enthusiasm.
“Mine, too, are about the same,” added Professor Maturin, naming his similar place, with a similar lack of interest.
The Physician hemmed severely and shifted in his chair. “Let us have it,” smiled Professor Maturin.
“Why will you act as though you were a hundred years old?” said he.
“Perhaps we feel so, sometimes,” replied Professor Maturin, while the Vicar nodded. “I fancy we would not ignore the fountain of youth, if we knew where it was.”
“It isn’t far,” retorted the Physician; “it’s merely open air and exercise.”
“I love open air,” said Professor Maturin, “but I hate what is usually called exercise.”
“Naturally,” replied the Physician, “being a man of mind. The cult of muscle is ridiculous in intellectual people. Muscle and vitality are by no means the same, and you cannot do much for either through unnatural gymnastics. But I mean by exercise the maintenance of harmony between one’s specialized functions and what may be called fundamental activity, so that the whole works together happily and spontaneously. Such a balance is as easy to preserve as it is important. We evolved as we are through a series of large general movements, and we need to continue enough of those to preserve a coördination that complements and supplements the particular functions that we most practice. Thus, we walk upright, instead of on all fours, probably as the result of long reaching and climbing. Climbing is not always convenient, but one may practice setting up exercises anywhere until he feels as upright and as sprightly as a primate. I grant you it may not seem dignified,” admitted the Physician, as the Vicar smiled at the picture, “but it means health and happiness, and perhaps life itself.”
“Your suasion is seductive,” said ProfessorMaturin, “but how is one to know precisely what he needs, and when?”
“Take, for illustration,” resumed the Physician, “those moments when you feel the need of exercise. A little analysis of the sensation will make you aware of a kind of hunger for activity in some particular muscle. A little ingenuity will devise some appropriate exercise, and its moderate practice will both meet the particular need that was felt and diffuse a general tone of well-being.
“Conversely, a general or a local sense of well-being will seem to demand expression in action. A little abandon at such moments will suggest exercises that are both pleasant and profitable to the body and interesting and enjoyable to the mind. Similarly, mental and emotional states will often suggest free and exuberant bodily expression.
“Any thoughtful man, moreover, may deduce from the nature of his ordinary occupations what larger vital activities he should have. Thus, trunk and chest exercises would complement your special functions as professional speakers, and your sedentary study calls for supplemental arm and leg exercises in the open air. Professional singers illustrate the successful development andmaintenance of special functions through related and supplemental activities.
“In short, if exercise is spontaneous and rational, qualitative rather than quantitative, for the nerves rather than for the muscles, it will improve the efficiency and facility of one’s habitual occupation, will establish a general vigor and stability of body, and maintain mental balance and alertness; and, I repeat, such varied and recreative activities will suggest themselves to any thoughtful person, although it is wise, occasionally, to secure professional approval or amendment of them. In general, any moderate exercise that interests or stirs enthusiasm is good. Games, especially, correct nervousness and banish self-consciousness through their impersonal aim or coöperative effort, and they improve bodily structure and function by the way. Bowling, boxing, fencing, and billiards are good. Tennis and golf are better, because they are out of doors. Golf is almost the best, because it is interesting, moderate, and available throughout life.”
“I could never become interested in any game,” said Professor Maturin; “their artificial rules are irksome to me, and to acquire the skill necessary to make them enjoyable oppresses me as a waste of time.”
“Even so,” rejoined the Physician, “there are plenty of health-giving pursuits that have also some utility in themselves. Among such are the handicrafts and gardening; walking, riding, and all sorts of excursions; swimming, rowing, and sailing. Swimming, especially, is natural and interesting; it employs many members harmoniously, it quiets and invigorates nerve action, and gives strength and grace, self-control and confidence. I should prescribe for you both this summer a daily swim, with plenty of floating on a quiet shore, and then, if you become as refreshed as you should, something more, like learning to sail. What, by the way, is your avoirdupois?” Neither Professor Maturin nor the Vicar had been weighed in years.
“Weight is an important indication of health,” continued the Physician. “Every man, I think, should have a complete health examination and record at least once a year. Defects can then be promptly remedied, and occupation and recreation be properly adjusted to individual capacities or limitations. One’s family and personal history and tendency should be considered in everything. More than a third of us have remediable defects in sight, about a tenth in hearing, and so many people neglect their teeth that they cause,Dr. Osler says, more deterioration than alcohol. Digestion has a way of announcing its disturbances, but the heart and spine disorders that one-tenth of us have are usually allowed to spread their deterioration unheeded; while almost nobody considers the structure and function of the feet as important as they are.”
“I remember,” said the Vicar with a smile, “your first prescription for me—a looser hat, firmer shoes, and a belt instead of braces.”
“But does not such self-knowledge make one morbid?” queried Professor Maturin. “Have I not heard of a physician who had to abandon practice because he fancied himself afflicted with every disease that be diagnosed?”
“Surely,” responded the Physician, “you refer to Ferguson—the less we think about our own anatomy and physiology the better; but your physician must know them to keep you in health, as well as to extricate you from disease. Knowledge about sanitation and hygiene, however, is both intelligible and helpful to a practical belief in personal and social health and good living. I wish that every one would preach as well as practice my favorite prescriptions of less heat and more humidity indoors, gray-green wall-papers and furniture to fit the individual, vacuum cleanersand patent filters, and, ever, more fresh air. Outdoor air is the most valuable therapeutic that we know, just as it is the cheapest and the most neglected. Forty per cent of our mortality is due to neglect of fresh air.
“If, in fine, every aspect of life were considered first from the point of view of health; or if food and sleep and exercise and good air were put even on a par with other interests, we would have so much vitality that we might practically dispense with effort and enjoy all the profit and pleasure of spontaneity. Instead, we so neglect the entire physical basis that we allow a hurried breakfast, a heavy coat, an uncomfortable chair, or a bad light to spoil a whole day’s work, and, perhaps, permanently to damage the worker. Sedentary students ignore the need for activity until interest and perception grow sluggish, memory dims, and minds that should produce snap-shots require long time-exposures. If, on the other hand, we would only practice a complete, instead of a partial, economy, we should all be twice as efficient and happy.”
“You are surely right,” said Professor Maturin thoughtfully. “Plato was called so because of his broad shoulders, Xenophon and Erasmus loved horses, and Ronsard gardening. ChristopherNorth walked from London to Oxford after dinner. Fitzgerald sailed half the year. The Physician does well to lecture us, dominie. Let us both reform, and go in for Greek sanity and the joy of the age of chivalry. The times have changed since the Bishop of London was the licenser for physicians. But,” he continued, as we rose to go, “if the Vicar and I promise to practice your preachment this summer, what shall we do when we come back to town? My walking up and down and the Vicar’s riding evidently need something more, by way of paprika.”
“I hope eventually to convert you both to golf,” smiled the Physician, “but until then, observe your needs and invent exercises to meet them, as I have indicated. Write me out a list of your inventions this summer; in the autumn I will go over both you and them, and perhaps suggest others. Next year I may prescribe mountains and motor cars for variety. Meanwhile, use the fountain of youth and prepare to live long and prosper.”
“Good-by, good-by,” said Professor Maturin. “Many thanks. You have surely suggested a great perhaps.”