Vegetable Diet: As Sanctioned by Medical Men, and by Experience in All Ages

The only instance which, on a proper comparison, will probably be adduced to prove the incorrectness of these views, will be that of a few tribes of American Indians, who, though they have extremely robust bodies, are eaters of much flesh. But they live also in the open air, and have many other good habits, and are healthy in spite of the inferiority of their diet. But perfect, physically, as they seem to be, and probably are, examine the vegetable-eaters among them, of the same tribe, and they will be found still more so.

In the next place, the fluids are all in a better and more healthy state. In proof of this, I might mention in the first place that superior agility, ease of motion, speed, and power of endurance which so distinguish vegetable-eaters, wherever a fair comparison is instituted. They possess a suppleness like that of youth, even long after what is called the juvenile period of life is passed over. They are often seen running and jumping, unless restrained by the arbitrary customs of society, in very advanced age. Their wounds heal with astonishing rapidity in as many days as weeks, or even months, in the latter case. All this could not happen, were there not a good state of the fluids of the system conjoined, to a happy state of the solids.

The vegetable-eater, if temperate in the use of his vegetables, and if all his other habits are good, will endure, better than the flesh-eater, the extremes of heat and cold. This power of endurance has ever been allowed to be a sure sign of a good state of health. The most vigorous man, as it is well known, will endure best both extremes of temperature. But it is a proof also of the greater purity of his solids and fluids.

The secretions and excretions of his body are in a better state; and this, again, proves that his blood and other fluids are healthy. He does not so readily perspire excessively as other men, neither is there any want of free and easy perspiration. Profuse sweating on every trifling exertion of the body or mind, is as much a disease as an habitually dry skin. But the vegetable-eater escapes both of these extremes. The saliva, the tears, the milk, the gastric juice, the bile, and the other secretions and excretions – particularly the dejections – are as they should be. Nay, the very exhalations of the lungs are purer, as is obvious from the breath. That of a vegetable-eater is perfectly sweet, while that of a flesh-eater is often as offensive as the smell of a charnel-house. This distinction is discernible even among the brute animals. Those which feed on grass, grain, etc., have a breath incomparably sweeter than those which prey on animals. Compare the camel, and horse, and cow, and sheep, and rabbit, with the tiger (if you choose to approach him), the wolf, the dog, the cat, and the hawk. One comparison will be sufficient; you will never forget it. But there is as much difference between the odor of the breath of a flesh-eating human being and a vegetable-eater, as between those of the dog and the lamb. This, however, is a secret to all but vegetable-eaters themselves, since none but they are so situated as to be able to make the comparison. But, betake yourself to mealy vegetables and fruits a few years, and live temperately on them, and then you will perceive the difference, especially in riding in a stage-coach. This, I confess, is rather a draw-back upon the felicity of vegetable-eaters; but it is some consolation to know what a mass of corruption we ourselves have escaped.

There is one more secretion to which I wish to direct your attention, which is, the fat or oil. The man who lives rightly, and rejects animal food among the rest, will never be overburdened with fat. He will neither be too corpulent nor too lean. Both these conditions are conditions of disease, though, as a general rule, corpulence is most to be dreaded; it is, at least, the most disgusting. Fat, I repeat it, is a secretion. The cells in which it is deposited serve for relieving the system of many of the crudities and abuses, not to say poisons, which are poured into it – cheated; as it were, in some degree into the blood, secreted into the fat cells, and buried in the fat to be out of the way, and where they can do but little mischief. Yet, even here they are not wholly harmless. The fat man is almost always more exposed to disease, and to severe epidemic disease in particular, than the lean man. Let us leave it to the swine and other kindred quadrupeds, to dispose of gross half poisonous matter, by converting it into, or burying it in fat; let us employ our vital forces and energies in something better. Above all, let us not descend to swallow, as many have been inclined to do, besides the ancient Israelites, this gross secretion, and reduce ourselves to the painful necessity of carrying about, from day to day, a huge mass of double-refined disease, pillaged from the foulest and filthiest of animals.

Vegetable-eaters – especially if they avoid condiments, as well as flesh and fish – are not apt to be thirsty. It is a common opinion among the laboring portion of the community, that they who perspire freely, must drink freely. And yet I have known one or two hard laborers who were accustomed to sweat profusely and freely, who hardly ever drank any thing, except a little tea or milk at their meals, and yet were remarkably strong and healthy, and attained to a great age. One of this description (Frederick Lord, of Hartford, Conn.), lived to about the age of eighty-five. How the system is supplied, in such cases, with fluid, I do not know; but I know it is not necessary to drink perpetually for the purpose; for if but one healthy man can dispense with drinking, others may. The truth is, we seldom drink from real thirst. We drink chiefly either from habit, or because we have created a morbid or diseased thirst by improper food or drink, among which animal food is pretty conspicuous.

I have intimated that, in order to escape thirst, the vegetable-eater must abstain also from condiments. This he will be apt to do. It is he who eats flesh and fish, and drinks something besides water, who feels such an imperious necessity for condiments. The vegetable and milk eater, and water-drinker, do not need them.

It is in this view, that the vegetable system lies at the foundation of all reform in the matter of temperance. So long as the use of animal food is undisturbed and its lawfulness unquestioned, all our efforts to heal the maladies of society are superficial. The wound is not yet probed to the bottom. But, renounce animal food, restore us to our proper condition, and feed us on milk and farinaceous articles, and our fondness for excitement and our hankering for exciting drinks and condiments will, in a few generations, die away. Animal food is a root of all evil, so far as temperance is concerned, in its most popular and restricted sense.

The pure vegetable-eaters, especially those who are trained as such, seldom drink at all. Some use a little water with their meals, and a few drink occasionally between them, especially if they labor much in the open air, and perspire freely. Some taste nothing in the form of drink for months, unless we call the abundant juices of apples and other fruits, and milk, etc., by that name – of which, by the way, they are exceedingly fond. The reason is, they are seldom thirsty. Dr. Lambe, of London, doubts whether man is naturally a drinking animal; but I do not carry the matter so far. Still I believe that ninety-nine hundredths of the drink which is used, as now used, does more harm than good.

He who avoids flesh and fish, escapes much of that languor and faintness, at particular hours, which others feel. He has usually a clear and quiet head in the morning. He is ready, and willing, and glad to rise in due season; and his morning feelings are apt to last all day. He has none of that faintness between his meals which many have, and which tempts thousands to luncheons, drams, tobacco, snuff, and opium, and ultimately destroys so much health and life. The truth is, that vegetable food is not only more quiet and unstimulating than any other, but it holds out longer also. I know the contrary of this is the general belief; but it is not well founded. Animal food stimulates most, and as the stimulus goes off soon, we are liable to feel dull after it, and to fancy we need the stimulus of drink or something else to keep us up till the arrival of another meal. And, having acquired a habit of relying on our food to stimulate us immediately, much more than to give us real, lasting, permanent strength, it is no wonder we feel, for a time, a faintness if we discontinue its use. This only shows the power of habit, and the over-stimulating character of our accustomed food. Nor does the simple vegetable-eater suffer, during the spring, as other people say they do. All is cheerful and happy with him, even then. Nor, lastly, is he subject to hypochondria or depression of spirits. He is always lively and cheerful; and all with him is bright and happy. As it has been expressed elsewhere, with the truly temperate man it is "morning all day."

The system of diet in question, greatly improves, exalts, and perfects the senses. The sight, smell, and taste are rendered greatly superior by it. The difference in favor of the hearing and the touch may not be so obvious; nevertheless, it is believed to be considerable. But the change in the other senses – the first three which I have named – even when we reform as late as at thirty-five or forty, is wonderful. I do not wish to encourage, by this, a delay of the work of reformation; we can never begin it too early.

Vegetable diet favors beauty of form and feature. The forms of the natives of some of the South Sea Islands, to say nothing of their features, are exceedingly fine. They are tall and well proportioned. So it is with the Japanese and Chinese, especially of the interior, where they subsist almost wholly on rice and fruits. The Japanese are the finest men, physically speaking, in Asia. The New Hollanders, on the contrary, who live almost wholly on flesh and fish, are among the most meagre and ugly of the human race, if we except the flesh-eating savages of the north, and the Greenlanders and Laplanders. In short, the principle I have here advanced will hold, as a general rule, I believe, other things being equal, throughout the world. If it be asked whether I would exalt beauty and symmetry into virtues, I will only say that they are not without their use in a virtuous people; and I look forward to a period in the world's history, when all will be comparatively well formed and beautiful. Beauty is exceedingly influential, as every one must have observed who has been long in the world; at least, if he has had his eyes open. And it is probably right that it should be so. Our beauty is almost as much within our control, as a race, as our conduct.

A vegetable diet, moreover, promotes and preserves a clearness and a generally healthful state of the mental faculties. I believe that much of the moral as well as intellectual error in the world, arises from a state of mind which is produced by the introduction of improper liquids and solids into the stomach, or, at least, by their application to the nervous system. Be this as it may, however, there is nothing better for the brain than a temperate diet of well-selected vegetables, with water for drink. This Sir Isaac Newton and hundreds of others could abundantly attest.

It also favors an evenness and tranquillity of temper, which is of almost infinite value. The most fiery and vindictive have been enabled, by this means, when all other means had failed, to transform themselves into rational beings, and to become, in this very respect, patterns to those around them. If this were its only advantage, in a physiological point of view, it would be of more value than worlds. It favors, too, simplicity of character. It makes us, in the language of the Bible, to remain, or to become, as little children, and it preserves our juvenile character and habits through life, and gives us a green old age.

Finally and lastly, it gives us an independence of external things and circumstances, that can never be attained without it. In vain may we resort to early discipline and correct education – in vain to moral and religious training – in vain, I had almost said, to the promises and threatenings of heaven itself, so long as we continue the use of food so unnatural to man as the flesh of animals, with the condiments and sauces, and improper drinks which follow in its train. Our hope, under God, is, in no small degree, on a radical change in man's dietetic habits – in a return to that simple path of truth and nature, from which, in most civilized countries, those who have the pecuniary means of doing it have unwisely departed.

III. THE MEDICAL ARGUMENT

If perfect health is the best preventive and security against disease, and if a well-selected and properly administered vegetable diet is best calculated to promote and preserve that perfect health, then this part of the subject – what I have ventured to call the medical argument – is at once disposed of. The superiority of the diet I recommend is established beyond the possibility of debate. Now that this is the case – namely, that this diet is best calculated to promote perfect health – I have no doubt. For the sake of others, however, it may be well to adduce a few facts, and present a few brief considerations.

It is now pretty generally known, that Howard, the philanthropist, was, for about forty years a vegetable-eater, subsisting for much of this time on bread and tea, and that he went through every form of exposure to disease, contagious and non-contagious, perfectly unharmed. And had it not been for other physical errors than those which pertain to diet, I know of no reason why his life might not have been preserved many years longer – perhaps to this time.

Rev. Josiah Brewer, late a missionary in Smyrna, was very much exposed to disease, and, like Mr. Howard, to the plague itself; and yet I am not aware that he ever had a single sick day as the consequence of his exposure. I do not know with certainty that he abstains entirely from flesh meat, but he is said to be rigidly temperate in other respects.

Those who have read Rush's Inquiries and other writings, are aware that he was very much exposed to the yellow fever in Philadelphia, during the years in which it prevailed there. Now, there is great reason for believing that he owed his exemption from the disease, in part, at least, to his great temperance.

Mr. James, a teacher in Liberia, in Africa, had abstained for a few years from animal food, prior to his going out to Africa. Immediately after his arrival there, and during the sickly season, one of his companions who went out with him, died of the fever. Mr. James was attacked slightly, but recovered.

Another vegetable-eater – the Rev. Mr. Crocker – went out to a sickly part of Africa some years since, and remained at his station a long time in perfect health, while many of his friends sickened or died. At length, however, he fell.

Gen. Thomas Sheldon, of this state, a vegetable-eater, spent several years in the most sickly parts of the Southern United States, with an entire immunity from disease; and he gives it as his opinion that it is no matter where we are, so that our dietetic and other habits are correct.

Mr. G. McElroy, of Kentucky, spent several months of the most sickly season in the most unhealthy parts of Africa, in the year 1835, and yet enjoyed the best of health the whole time. While there and on his passage home, he abstained wholly from animal food, living on rice and other farinaceous vegetables and fruits.

In view of these facts and many others, Mr. Graham remarks: "Under a proper regimen our enterprising young men of New England may go to New Orleans or Liberia, or any where else they choose, and stay as long as they choose, and yet enjoy good health." And there is no doubt he is right.

But it is hardly worth while to cite single facts in proof of a point of this kind. There is abundant testimony to be had, going to show that a vegetable diet is a security against disease, especially against epidemics, whether in the form of a mere influenza or malignant fever. Nay, there is reason to believe that a person living according to all the Creator's laws, physical and moral, could hardly receive or communicate disease of any kind. How could a person in perfect health, and obeying to an iota all the laws of health – how could he contract disease? What would there be in his system which could furnish a nidus for its reception?

I am well aware that not a few people suppose the most healthy are as much exposed to disease as others, and that there are some who even suppose they are much more so. "Death delights in a shining mark," or something to this effect, is a maxim which has probably had its origin in the error to which I have adverted. To the same source may be traced the strange opinion that a fatal or malignant disease makes its first and most desperate attacks upon the healthy and the robust. The fact is – and this explains the whole riddle – those who are regarded, by the superficial and short-sighted in this matter, as the most healthy and robust, are usually persons whose unhealthy habits have already sown the seeds of disease; and nothing is wanting but the usual circumstances of epidemics to rouse them into action. More than all this, these strong-looking but inwardly-diseased persons are almost sure to die whenever disease does attack them, simply on account of the previous abuses of their constitutions.

During the prevalence of the cholera in New York, about the year 1832, all the Grahamites, as they were called, who had for some time abstained from animal food – and their number was quite respectable – and who persevered in it, either wholly escaped the disease, or had it very lightly; and this, too, notwithstanding a large proportion of them were very much exposed to its attacks, living in the parts of the city where it most prevailed, or in families where others were dying almost daily. This could not be the result of mere accident; it is morally impossible.

But flesh-eaters – admitting the flesh were wholesome – are not only much more liable to contract disease, but if they contract it, to suffer more severely than others. There is yet another important consideration which belongs to the medical argument. Animal food is much more liable than vegetable food, to those changes or conditions which we call poisonous, and which are always, in a greater or less degree, the sources of disease; it is also more liable to poisonous mixtures or adulterations.

It is true, that in the present state of the arts, and of agriculture and civic life generally, vegetables themselves are sometimes the sources of disease. I refer not to the spurred rye and other substances, which occasionally find their way into our fields and get mixed with our grains, etc., and which are known to be very active poisons, – so much as to the acrid or otherwise improper juices which are formed by forced vegetation, especially about cities, whether by means of hot-beds, green-houses, or new, strong, or highly-concentrated manures. I refer also to the crude, unripe, and imperfect fruits and other things with which our markets are filed now-a-days; and especially to decaying fruits and vegetables. But I cannot enlarge; a volume would be too little to do this part of the subject justice. Nothing is more wanted than light on this subject, and a consequent reform in our fashionable agriculture and horticulture.

And yet, although I admit, most cheerfully, the danger we are in of contracting disease by using diseased vegetables, the danger is neither so frequent nor so imminent, in proportion to the quantity of it consumed, as from animal food. Let us briefly take a view of the facts.

Milk, in its nature, approaches nearest to the line of the vegetable kingdom, and is therefore, in my view, the least objectionable form of animal food. I am even ready to admit that for persons affected with certain forms of chronic disease, and for all children, milk is excellent. And yet, excellent as it is, it is very liable to be injurious. We are told, by the most respectable medical men of France, that all the cows about Paris have tubercles (the seeds or beginning of consumption) in their lungs which is probably owing to the unnatural state in which they are kept, as regards the kind, and quantity, and hours of receiving their food; and especially as regards air, exercise, and water. Cows cannot be healthy, nor any other domestic animals, any more than men, when long subjected to the unnatural and unhealthy influences of bad air, want of exercise, etc. Hence, then, most of our cows about our towns and cities must be diseased, in a greater or less degree – if not with consumption, with something else. And of course their milk must be diseased – not, perhaps, as much as their blood and flesh, but more or less so. But if milk is diseased, the butter and cheese made from it must be diseased also.

But milk is sometimes diseased through the vegetables which are eaten by the cow. Every one knows how readily the sensible properties of certain acrid plants are perceived in the milk. Hence as I have elsewhere intimated, we are doubly exposed to danger from eating animal food; first, from the diseases of the animal itself, and secondly, from the diseases which are liable to be induced upon us by the vegetables they use, some of which are not poisonous to them, but are so to us. So that, in avoiding animal food, we escape at least a part of the danger.

Besides the general fact, that almost all medical and dietetic writers object to fat, and to butter among the rest, as difficult of digestion and tending to cutaneous and other diseases, – and besides the general admission in society at large that it makes the skin "break out," – it must be obvious that it is liable to retain, in a greater or less degree, all the poisonous properties which existed in the milk from which it was made. Next to fat pork, butter seems to me one of the worst things that ever entered a human stomach; and if it will not, like pork, quite cause the leprosy, it will cause almost every other skin disease which is known.

Cheese is often poisoned now-a-days by design. I do not mean to say that the act of poisoning is accompanied by malice toward mankind; far from it. It is added to color it, as in the form of anatto; or to give it freshness and tenderness, as in the case of arsenic.21

Eggs, when not fresh, are more or less liable to disease. I might even say more. When not fresh, they are diseased. On this point we have the testimony of Drs. Willich and Dunglison. The truth is, that the yolk of the egg has a strong tendency to decomposition, and this decomposing or putrefying process begins long before it is perceived, or even suspected, by most people. There is much reason for believing that a large proportion of the eggs eaten in civic life, – except when we keep the poultry ourselves, – are, when used, more or less in a state of decomposition. And yet, into how many hundred forms of food do they enter in fashionable life, or in truth, in almost every condition of society! The French cooks are said to have six hundred and eighty-five methods of cooking the egg, including all the various sorts of pastry, etc., of which it forms a component part.

One of the grand objections against animal food, of almost all sorts, is, that it tends with such comparative rapidity to decomposition. Such is at least the case with eggs, flesh, and fish of every kind. The usual way of preventing the decomposition is by processes scarcely less hurtful – by the addition of salt, pyroligneous acid, saltpetre, lime, etc. These, to be sure, prevent putrefaction; but they render every thing to which they are applied, unless it is the egg, the more indigestible.

It is a strange taste in mankind, by the way, which leads them to prefer things in a state of incipient decomposition. And yet such a taste certainly prevails widely. Many like the flesh beaten; hence the origin of the cruel practice of the East of whipping animals to death.22 And most persons like fresh meat kept till it begins to be tender; that is, begins to putrefy. So most persons like fermented beer better than that which is unfermented, although fermentation is a step toward putrefaction; and they like vinegar, too, which is also far advanced in the same road.

That diseased food causes diseases in the persons who use it, needs not, one would think, a single testimony; and yet, I will name a few.