Sermons to gentlemen upon temperance and exercise. [Seven lines of quotations in Latin]

SERMON III. ON EXERCISE.

PROVERBS vi. 9, 10, 11.

How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?—Yet a little sleep—a little slumber—a little folding of the hands to sleep.—So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.

MY HEARERS,

_MAN was formed to be active. The vigour of his mind, and the health of his body can be fully preserved by no other means, than by labour of some sort. Hence, when we read the sentence which was pronounced upon man after the fall, "That in the sweat of his brow he should eat bread all the days of his life." We cannot help admiring the goodness of the Supreme Being, in connect|ing his punishment with what had now become the necessary means of preserving his health. Had God abandoned him to idleness, he would have entailed tenfold misery upon him. The solid parts of his body, particularly the nerves, would have lost their tone—the muscles would have lost their feeling and moving powers—and the fluids in consequence of this,

would have lost their original or native qualities, and have stagnated in every part of his body. But, instead of inflict|ing this complicated punishment upon him, he bids him be ACTIVE, and implants a principle within him which impels him to it. Civil society and agriculture began together. The latter has always been looked upon among the first employ|ments of mankind.—It calls forth every individual of the hu|man race into action.—It employs the body in a manner the most conducive to its health.—It preserves and increases the species most;—and lastly, it is most friendly to the practice of virtue. For these reasons, therefore, it is natural to con|clude, that it is most agreeable to the Supreme Being that man should be supported by it. The earth is a skilful as well as a kind mother to her children. Instead of pouring her treasures in lapfuls upon them at once, and consigning them to idleness ever afterwards, she bestows her gifts with a sparing hand, and ceases to yield them any thing, as soon as they cease to culti|vate her. Thus by entailing constant labour, she meant to entail constant health upon them.

BUT these employments were too innocent for the restless spirit of man. He soon deserted his fields—and his flocks—and sought for some more speedy methods of acquiring for|tune—independence—and a superiority over his fellow crea|tures. These have been obtained by commerce—war—ra|pine—and lastly, to the reproach of the American colonies, and of humanity, be it spoken, by the perpetration of a crime, compared with which, every other breach of the laws of nature or nations, deserves the name of Holiness, I mean, by SLAVERY. But in exchange for these, he hath given up that greatest of all blessings, HEALTH. He hath had recourse to medicine as a succedaneum for labour: but this hath proved ineffectual; for the fossil—vegetable—and those parts of the animal king|dom

which are employed in medicine, have not yet learned, like man, to rise in rebellion against the will of their Creator. Solomon seems to have been aware of this in the words of our text, and hence we hear him calling upon him to awake from his unhealthy "slumber"—to rise from his enervating bed—to unfold his "arms," and employ them in some useful labour, least sickness, with its companion "poverty," should come upon him like "travail upon a woman with child," or like an "armed man," neither of which can be avoided or resisted. But Solomon, and all the preachers from his time to the present day, who have addressed him upon this subject, have used their elo|quence in vain. Since therefore we cannot bring man back again to his implements of husbandry, we must attempt to find out some kinds of exercise as substitutes for them. The most healthy and long-lived people are found among the la|bouring part of mankind—Would the rich then enjoy health and long life, they must do that of choice which these people do of necessity. They must by exercise, subject themselves to a kind of voluntary labour.

AS this discourse is addressed chiefly to the rich and the luxurious, who are the most given to idleness, I shall confine myself to Exercise only; and, in order to handle the subject in the most extensive manner, I shall consider

• I. THE DIFFERENT MODES OF EXERCISE.
• II. THE PROPER TIME FOR USING IT; and then I shall conclude with an APPLICATION.

I. All Exercise may be divided into ACTIVE and PASSIVE.

ACTIVE EXERCISE includes walking—running—dancing —fencing—swimming, and the like.

PASSIVE EXERCISE includes sailing—riding in a carriage, and on horseback. The last of these is of a mixed nature, and is in some measure active as well as passive. We shall treat of each of them in order.

OF ACTIVE EXERCISE.

WALKING is the most gentle species of it we are acquaint|ed with. It promotes perspiration, and if not continued too long, invigorates and strengthens the system. As the most simple and wholesome drink, namely water, is within every body's reach, so this species of simple and wholesome exercise is in every body's power, who has the use of his limbs. It is to be lament|ed, that carriages are substituted too often in the room of it. In Pekin in China, we are told, that none but the Emperor, and a few of the first officers of state, are suffered to use chariots. Although the intention of this law was to suppress the num|ber of horses, in order to make room for the increase and support of the human species, in the number of which the riches of all countries consist, yet we find it attended with good effects otherwise; for the rich and the great, by being obliged to walk in common with the poor people, enjoy with them the common blessing of health, more than people of the same rank in other countries. To such as can bear it, I would recommend walking frequently up a hill. The inha|bitants of mountainous countries are generally healthy and long lived. This is commonly attributed to the purity of the air in such places. Although this has a chief share in it, yet I cannot help thinking, that the frequent and necessary exer|cise of climbing mountains, which these people are obliged to undergo, adds much to their health and lives. Every body knows how much walking up a hill tends to create an appe|tite. This depends upon its increasing the insensible perspi|ration—a secretion with which the appetite, and the state of the stomach in general, are much connected.

RUNNING is too violent to be used often, or continued for any length of time. The running footmen in all countries are short-lived—Few of them escape consumptions before they arrive at their thirty-fifth year.—Sweating and perspira|tion, according to Sanctorius, have been found to be incom|patible.—The former always suppresses the latter. Upon this account, I would recommend it to be used as seldom as possible.

DANCING is a most salutary exercise. Future ages will be surprised to hear, that rational creatures should, at any time, have looked upon it as a criminal amusement. To reason against it, from its abuse, concludes equally strong against the lawfulness of every thing we hold sacred and va|luable in life.—It was a part of the Jewish worship. By its mechanical effects on the body, it inspires the mind with cheerfulness, and this, when well founded, and properly re|strained, is another name for religion. It is common among the Indians, and the savage nations of all countries, upon public and festive occasions.—They have their war—their love—and their religious dances. The music, which always accompanies this exercise, hath a pleasing and salutary effect upon the body as well as the mind. It is addressed through the avenue of the ears to the brain, the common centre of life and motion, from whence its oscillations are communi|cated to every part of the system, imparting to each, that equable and uniform vigour and action, upon which the healthy state of all the functions depends. It would lead us to a long digression, or I might here mention many remark|able cures which have been performed, particularly of those disorders, which are much connected with the nervous system, by the magic power of music. Dancing should not be used more than once or twice a week. It should never be

continued 'till weariness comes on, nor should we expose our|selves to the cold air too soon after at.

FENCING calls forth most of the muscles into exercise, particularly those which move the limbs. The brain is like|wise roused by it, through the avenue of the eyes, and its action, as in the case of music, is propagated to the whole system. It has long been a subject of complaint, that the human species has been degenerating for these several cen|turies. When we see the coats of mail of our ancestors, who fought under the Edwards and Henries of former ages, we wonder how they moved, much more how they atchieved such great exploits, beneath the weight of such massy cover|ings. We grant that rum—tobacco—tea—and some other luxuries of modern invention, have had a large share in weak|ning the stamina of our constitutions, and thus producing a more feeble race of men; yet we must attribute much of our great inferiority in strength, size and agility to our forefa|thers, to the disuse which the invention of gun-powder and fire arms hath introduced of those athletic exercises, which were so much practised in former ages, as a part of military discipline.

TOO much cannot be said in praise of SWIMMING, or as the poet of Avon expresses it—"buffeting the waves with lusty sinews." Besides exercising the limbs, it serves to wash away the dust, which is apt to mix itself with the sweat of our bodies in warm weather. Washing frequently in water, we find, was enjoined upon the Jews and Mahometans, as a part of their religious ceremonies. The Hollanders are clean|ly in their houses and streets, without remembering, or per|haps knowing, that cleanliness was absolutely necessary at first, to guard against the effects of those inundations of mire,

to which their country is always exposed—so a Jew and a Mussulman contend for, and practise their ablutions, with|out remembering that they were instituted only to guard them against those cutanious diseases, to which the constant accu|mulation of sordes upon their skins in a warm climate, na|turally exposed them. For the same reason, I would strong|ly recommend the practice of bathing, and swimming, fre|quently in the summer season. But remember, you should not stay too long in the water at one time, least you lessen instead of increasing the vigour of the constitution.

TO all these species of exercise which we have mentioned, I would add, SKEATING, JUMPING, also, the active plays of TENNIS, BOWLES, QUOITS, GOLF * 1.1, and the like. The man|ner in which each of these operate, may be understood from what we said under the former particulars.

ACTIVE exercise includes, in the last place, TALKING— READING with an AUDIBLE VOICE—SINGING and LAUGHING. They all promote the circulation of the blood thro' the lungs, and tend to strengthen those important or|gans, when used in moderation. The last has the advantage over them all, inasmuch as the mind co-operates with it. May unfading laurels bloom to the latest ages upon the grave

of him * 1.2 who said, "That every time a man laughs, he adds something to his life."

I WOULD remark here, that all these species of exercise which we have described, should be varied according to age— sex—temperament—climate—and season. Young people stand in less need of exercise than old.—Women less than men. The natural vigour of their constitutions is such, that they suffer least from the want of it. This will explain the meaning, and show the propriety of an opinion of a modern Philosopher † 1.3 that "Women only should follow those mecha|nical arts which require a sedentary life." But again, a man who is phlegmatic, requires more frequent and violent exercise than he who is of a bilious constitution: And lastly, people in warm climates and seasons, require less than those who live in cold. As Providence, by supplying the inhabitants of warm climates with so many of the spontaneous fruits of the earth, seems to have intended they should labour less than the inha|bitants of cold climates, so we may infer from this, that less exercise, which is only a substitute for labour, is necessary for them. The heat of such climates is sufficient of itself to keep up a regular and due perspiration. We said in a former dis|course, that the longest lived people were to be found in warm climates, and we gave one conjecture into the cause of it. It may not be improper here to add another. The coldness of northern climates, from the vigour it gives to the constitution, prompts to all kinds of exercise, which are not always restrain|ed within proper bounds. These, when used to excess, wear out the body. Thus, blowing a fire, may cause it to burn the brighter, but it consumes it the sooner. The inhabitants of warm climates being less prompted to these things, their bo|dies continue longer unimpaired. I confine this observation,

as in the former instance, to the improved parts of Asia and Africa only. The inhabitants of the West-Indian islands are so mixed, and partake so much of the European manners, that we cannot as yet include them in any general remarks which are made upon this subject.

I COME to speak of those exercises which are of a PASSIVE NATURE. These are proper chiefly for valetudinarians: But, as I intend these sermons should be of use to them as well as the healthy, I shall make a few remarks upon each of them.

THE life of a SAILOR is environed with so many dangers, that Heaven has in compensation for them connected with it an exemption from many diseases. In vain do the angry ele|ments assault him. His body, like some huge promontory, is proof against them all. Notwithstanding the dangers from shipwreck—fire—falling over board—and famine, to which sailors are exposed, I believe, that if we were to count an hundred sailors, and the same number of people on land, in a place that was ordinarily healthy, we should find more of the former alive at the end of ten years than the latter. The exercise of SAILING is constant. Every muscle is occasionally brought into exercise from the efforts we make to keep our|selves from falling. These efforts continue to be exerted by the oldest sailors, although the consciousness of the mind in these, as well as in many other actions we perform, is not ob|served from the influence of habit. By means of this regular and gentle exercise, the blood is moved in those small capil|laries, where it is most apt to stagnate, and perspiration is in|creased, which is carried off as fast as it is discharged from the body, by the constant change of atmosphere in a ship under sail. I say nothing here of the benefit of the sea air, it being en|tirely negative. Its virtue both at sea and on the sea-shore,

consists in nothing but its being freed from those noxious ani|mal and vegetable effluvia, which abound in the air, which comes across land. From what has been said, you will no longer be surprised at the uncommon appetite which some peo|ple feel at sea. It is owing to the great and constant discharge of the aliment (after it has undergone its usual changes) by means of perspiration. I would recommend this species of exercise to consumptive people, especially to such as labour under a spitting of blood. Dr. Lind tells us * 1.4, "That out of 5741 sailors who were admitted into the naval hospital at Haslar, near Portsmouth, in two years, only 360 of them had consumptions, and in one fourth of these, (he says,) it was brought on by bruises or falls." In the same number of hospi|tal patients, in this or any other country, I am persuaded six times that number would have been consumptive—so much does the gentle exercise of sailing fortify the lungs against all accidents, and determine the quantity and force of the fluids towards the surface of the body.

RIDING IN A CHARIOT has but few advantages, inas|much as we are excluded from the benefit of fresh air; an article, upon which the success of all kinds of exercise in a great measure depends. It should be used only by such per|sons as are unable to walk or to ride on horseback. We can|not help lamenting here, that those people use this mode of exercise the most, who stand in the greatest need of a more violent species of it.

RIDING ON HORSEBACK is the most manly and useful species of exercise for gentlemen. Bishop Burnet expresses his surprize at the lawyers of his own time, being so much more long-lived (••••eteris paribus) than other people, consider|ing

how much those of them who become eminent in their profession, are obliged to devote themselves to constant and intense study. He attributes it entirely to their RIDING the circuits so frequently, to attend the different courts in every part of the kingdom. This no doubt has a chief share in it: But we shall hereafter mention another cause which concurs with this, to protract their lives. It may be varied according to our strength, or the nature of our disorder, by walking— pacing—trotting—or cantering our horse. All those dis|eases which are attended with a weakness of the nerves, such as the hysteric and hypochondriac disorders, which show them|selves in a weakness of the stomach and bowels—indigestion —low spirits, &c. require this exercise. It should be used with caution in the consumption, as it is generally too violent, except in the early stage of that disorder. In riding, to pre|serve health, eight or ten miles a day are sufficient to answer all the purposes we would wish for. But in riding, to restore health, these little excursions will avail nothing. The mind as well as the body must be roused from its languor. In taking an airing, as it is called, we ride over the same ground for the most part every day. We see no new objects to divert us, and the very consideration of our riding for health sinks our spirits so much, that we receive more harm than good from it. Upon this account I would recommend long journies to such people, in order, by the variety or novelty of the journey to awaken and divert the mind. Many people have by these means been sur|prised into health. Persons who labour under hysteric or epileptic disorders, should be sent to cold; those who labour under hypochondriac or consumptive complaints should visit warm climates.

BEFORE I finish this head of our discourse, I shall add a few words concerning the exercise of the faculties of the soul.

The mind and body have a reciprocal action upon each other. Are our passions inflamed with desire or aversion? Or does our reason trace out relations in those things which are the ob|jects of our understanding?—The body we find is brought in|to sympathy. The pulse and the circulation of the blood are immediately quickened. Perspiration and the other secretions are promoted, and the body is sensibly invigorated afterwards. The body partakes therefore of the torpor which the mind contracts by its neglecting to exercise its faculties. He must be but little acquainted with biography, who has not remarked, that such as have distinguished themselves in the literary world, have generally been long-lived. ADDISON, SWIFT, LOCKE, NEWTON, FRANKLIN, with many others whom we might mention, all found a retreat in the evening of their lives un|der the shade of laurels which they had planted in their youth. Perhaps in most cases, they might promise them|selves an exemption from diseases, and a death from mere old age, could they be persuaded to relinquish their midnight lamp before the oil which feeds it was consumed. Great care should be taken, however, to avoid too great application of the mind to study. The most powerful medicines in nature are the most certain poisons. Many promising geniuses have sacrificed themselves, before they arrived at the altar in the Temple of Fame. Such as are in danger of suffering from this cause, will do well in consulting the ingenious and humane Dr. Tissot's excellent treatise upon the diseases of literary peo|ple. The PASSIONS as well as our reason, should always be exercised as much as possible. We shall walk—run—dance—swim—fence—sail—and ride to little purpose, unless we make choice of an agreeable friend to accompany us. Soli|tude is the bane of man; insomuch, that it is difficult to tell which suffers most, the soul in its qualities, or the body in its temperament, from being alone. Too great a concourse of

people breeds diseases. Too much company is destructive to cheerfulness. For the sake of both mind and body, there|fore, we should move in a little circle, and let heaven circum|scribe it for us. Let our wives and children be always around us, or if we are not blessed with these, let a few cheerful friends be our constant companions. It is remarked, that more single people die among those who are come to man|hood than married, and all physicians agree, that single men and women, compose by far the greatest number of their chronic patients among adults. Some men may talk against the cares of a family. They are unavoidable, it is true, but they are necessary. Stagnating waters are never sweet. Thus, these little cares, by keeping the tenderer passions always agitated, prevent that uniformity in life, which is so foreign and disagreeable both to the body and mind. After all, I believe, I shall have the suffrages of most of my hearers, when I add, that they are at least balanced by the sweets of domestic friendship.

WE come now to the next head of our discourse, namely,

II. To enquire into the proper TIME for EXERCISE— Sanctorius informs us * 1.5, that "exercise, from the seventh to the eleventh hour after eating, wastes more insensibly in one hour, than in three at any other time." If this be true, then (supposing you sup at eight o'clock in the evening) that exercise which is used from five 'till seven o'clock in the morning, will promote the greatest discharge in a given time, by insensible per|spiration. Such as make dinner their principal meal, are ex|cluded from the benefit of this aphorism; as the interval, be|tween the seventh and the eleventh hour, with them (sup|posing they dine at two o'clock in the afternoon) is from nine

in the evening 'till one o'clock in the morning—a time, in which darkness, and the unwholesome night air, forbid walk|ing—riding—and almost every other species of manly exer|cise we have described.

I KNOW it will be objected here, that we often see labour|ers return, after a full meal, to their work, without feeling any inconvenience from it. This is like the argument of those who recommend raw flesh to the human species, because the strongest and fiercest animals in nature eat it. It is because they are so fierce and so strong, that they are able to digest raw flesh. In like manner it is, because these men are na|turally so strong, that labour immediately after eating does not hurt them* 1.6. But let me ask, whether you have not ob|served such people leave their tables with reluctance—How slowly do they return,—and how many excuses do they form to loiter away a little time, before they renew their work.

BUT further—there is another reason why I would re|commend this practice of eating the chief meal in the even|ing, which is indeed a little foreign to our present subject.— In a country like this, where the constant labour of every in|dividual is so very necessary, the general use of this custom would add several hours to every day, and thus have the most beneficial effects upon the agriculture—commerce—and ma|nufactures of the country, exclusive of its influence upon the health of the inhabitants.

AFTER what has been said, I need hardly add, that exer|cise should never be used with a full stomach. Persons who exercise either to preserve, or restore health immediately after eating a hearty meal, resemble the man "who fled from a

lion, and a bear met him, and who went into the house, and leaned his hand upon the wall, and a serpent bit him."

I COME now to the APPLICATION of this discourse.

I HAVE endeavoured in every part of it, to lay before you the most powerful arguments, to excite you to exercise, and have addressed them chiefly to that main spring of human actions—SELF PRESERVATION. I have taught you the true art of alchymy, and furnished you with the genuine Philo|sopher's stone, but with this difference from that which has been sought for, by the deluded pretenders to philosophy in all ages, that instead of converting, like Midas, every thing you touch into gold—every thing which touches you shall—not convert you into gold—but impart HEALTH to you—com|pared with which, even the gold of Ophir loses its weight. In a word—I have showed you an harbour where I have anchored safely for many years; for, from my youth upwards, I have followed the mode of living I have recommended to you, as far as my connections or intercourse with the world would ad|mit; and although I received from nature a weakly con|stitution, yet—I speak it with a grateful heart!—few men enjoy better health—none better spirits than myself; and was I now about to leave the world, surrounded with a family of children, I would charge them, among the most important lessons I should give them, to bind these things as a "a sign upon their hands, or as frontlets between their eyes"—to think of them "when they sat in their houses, and when they walked by the way—when they lay down, and when they rose up—that their days might be multiplied; and that the days of their children, might be as the days of Heaven upon the earth."

I SHALL conclude this discourse with a story, which, I hope, will not be looked upon as foreign to what has been delivered upon this subject.

IN the island of Ceylon, in the Indian ocean, a number of invalids were assembled together, who were afflicted with most of the chronic diseases, to which the human body is sub|ject. In the midst of them sat several venerable figures, who amused them with encomiums upon some medicines, which they assured them would afford infallible relief in all cases. One boasted of an elixir—another of a powder, brought from America—a third, of a medicine, invented and prepared in Germany—all of which they said were certain antidotes to the gout—a fourth, cried up a nostrum for the vapours— a fifth, drops for the gravel—a sixth, a balsam, prepared from honey, as a sovereign remedy for a consumption—a seventh, a pill for cutanious eruptions—while an eighth cried down the whole, and extolled a mineral water, which lay a few miles from the place where they were assembled. The credulous multitude partook eagerly of these medicines, but without any relief of their respective complaints. Several of those who made use of the German preparation; were hurried sud|denly out of the world. Some said their medicines were adulterated—others that the Doctors had mistaken their dis|orders—while most of them agreed that they were much worse than ever. While they were all, with one accord, giving vent in this manner, to the transports of disappoint|ment and vexation, a clap of thunder was heard over their heads. Upon looking up, a light was seen in the sky.—In the midst of this appeared the figure of something more than human—she was tall and comely—her skin was fair as the driven snow—a rosy hue tinged her checks—her hair hung loose upon her shoulders—her slowing robes disclosed a shape

which would have cast a shade upon the statue of Venus of Medicis.—In her right hand she held a bough of an EVER|GREEN—in her left hand she had a scroll of parchment—she descended slowly, and stood erect upon the earth—she fixed her eyes, which sparkled with life, upon the deluded and afflicted company—there was a mixture of pity and indig|nation in her countenance—she stretched forth her right arm, and with a voice which was sweeter than melody itself, she addressed them in the following language:

Ye children of men, listen for a while to the voice of instruction. Ye seek health where it is not to be found. The boasted specifics you have been using, have no virtues. Even the persons who gave them, labour under many of the disor|ders they attempt to cure. My name is HYGIAEA. I pre|side over the health of mankind. Descard all your me|dicines, and seek relief from Temperance and EXERCISE alone. Every thing you see is active around you. All the brute animals in nature are active in their instinctive pur|suits. Inanimate nature is active too—air—fire—and water are always in motion. Unless this were the case, they would soon be unfit for the purposes they were designed, to serve in the oeconomy of nature. Shun sloth. This unhinges all the springs of life—fly from your diseases—they will not— they cannot pursue you.

Here she ended—she dropped the parchment upon the earth—a cloud received her, and she immediately ascended, and disappeared from their sight—a silence ensued—more expressive of approbation, than the loud|est peals of applause. One of them approached with reve|rence to the spot where she stood—took up the scroll, and read the contents of it to his companions. It contained di|rections to each of them, what they should do to restore their health. They all prepared themselves to obey the advice of the heavenly vision. The gouty man broke his vial of elixir,

threw his powders into the fire, and walked four or five miles every day before breakfast. The man afflicted with the gra|vel threw aside his drops, and began to work in his garden, or to play two or three hours every day at bowles. The hi|pochondriac and hysteric patients discharged their boxes of as|safoetida, and took a journey on horseback, to distant and op|posite ends of the island. The melancholic threw aside his gloomy systems of philosophy, and sent for a dancing master. The studious man shut up his folios, and sought amusement from the sports of children. The leper threw away his mer|curial pills, and swam every day in a neighbouring river. The consumptive man threw his balsam out of his window, and took a voyage to a distant country. After some months, they all returned to the place they were wont to assemble in. Joy appeared in each of their countenances. One had renewed his youth—another had recovered the use of his limbs—a third, who had been half bent for many years, now walked upright—a fourth began to sing some jovial song, without be|ing asked—a fifth could talk for hours together, without be|ing interrupted with a cough—in a word, they all enjoyed now a complete recovery of their health. They joined in offering sacrifices to Hygiaea. Temples were erected to her memory; and she continues, to this day, to be worshipped by all the inhabitants of that island.

THE END.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Golf is an exercise which is much used by the Gentlemen in Scotland. A large common in which there are several little holes is chosen for the purpose. It is played with little leather balls stuffed with feathers; and sticks made somewhat in the form of a bandy-wicket. He who puts a ball into a given num|ber of holes, with the fewest strokes, gets the game. The late Dr. M'KENZIE, Author of the essay on Health and Long Life, used to say, that a man would live ten years the longer for using this exercise once or twice a week.
• * 1.2

  Dr. Sterne.
• † 1.3

  Rousseau.
• * 1.4

  Essay on the means of preserving the health of seamen.
• * 1.5

  Sect. V. Aphorism vii.
• * 1.6

  O! dura messorum ilia. Her. Epod. III.