SLEEP.

Health may be as much injured by interrupted and insufficient Sleep, as by luxurious indulgence.

Valetudinarians who regularly retire to rest, and arise at certain hours, are unable, without injurious violence to their feelings—to resist the inclination to do so.

How important it is, then, to cultivate good and convenient Habits:—Custom will soon render the most rigid rules, not only easy, but agreeable.—

The Debilitated require much more rest than the Robust:—nothing is so restorative to the nerves, as sound, and uninterrupted Sleep, which is the chief source of both Bodily and Mental Strength.

The Studious need a full portion of Sleep, which seems to be as necessary nutriment to the Brain, as Food is to the Stomach.

Our Strength and Spirits are infinitely more exhausted by the exercise of our Mental, than by the labour of our Corporeal faculties—let any person try the effect of Intense Application for a few hours—He will soon find how much his Body is fatigued thereby, although He has not stirred from the Chair He sat on.

Those who are candidates for Health—must be as circumspect in the task they set their mind,—as in the exercise they give to their Body.

Dr. Armstrong, the Poet of Health, observes,

“’Tis the great Art of Life to manage well The restless Mind.”

The grand secret seems to be, to contrive that the exercise of the Body, and that of the Mind, may serve as relaxations to each other.

Over Exertion, or Anxiety of Mind, disturbs Digestion infinitely more than any fatigue of Body—the Brain demands a much more abundant supply of the Animal Spirits, than is required for the excitement of mere Legs and Arms.

“’Tis the Sword that wears out the Scabbard.”

Of the two ways of fertilizing the Brain—by Sleep, or by Spirituous Stimulus—(for some write best in the Morning, others when wound up with Wine, after Dinner or Supper:) the former is much less expensive—and less injurious to the constitution than either Port, or Brandy, whose aid it is said that some of our best Authors have been indebted to, for their most brilliant productions.

Calling one day on a literary friend, we found him reclining on a Sofa—on expressing our concern to find him indisposed, he said, “No, I was only hatching,—I have been writing till I was quite tired—my paper must go to Press to day—so I was taking my usual restorative—A Nap—which if it only lasts five minutes, so refreshes my Mind—that my Pen goes to work again spontaneously.”

Is it not better Economy of Time, to go to sleep for half an hour,—than to go on noodling all day in a nerveless and semi-superannuated state—if not asleep, certainly not effectively Awake—for any purpose requiring the Energy of either the Body, or the Mind.

“A Forty Winks Nap,” in an horizontal posture, is the best preparative for any extraordinary exertion of either.

Those who possess, and employ the powers of the Mind most—seldom attain the greatest Age25:—see Brunaud de L’Hygiene des Gens de Lettres, Paris, 8vo. 1819:—the Envy their Talent excites,—the Disappointment they often meet with in their expectations of receiving the utmost attention and respect, (which the world has seldom the gratitude to pay them while they live,) keep them in a perpetual state of irritation and disquiet—which frets them prematurely to their Grave26.

To rest a whole Day—under great fatigue of either Body or Mind, is occasionally extremely beneficial—it is impossible to regulate Sleep by the hour;—when the Mind and the Body have received all the refreshment which Sleep can give, people cannot lie in Bed, and till then, they should not Rise27.

Our Philosophical Poet here gives the best practical maxim on the subject for Valetudinarians—who, by following his advice, may render their Existence, instead of a dull unvaried round of joyless, useless self-denial,—a circle of agreeable sensation;—for instance, go not to your Bed till You are tired of sitting up—then remain in an Horizontal posture,—till You long to change it for a Vertical: thus, by a little management, the inevitable business of Life may be converted into a source of continual Enjoyment.

All-healing Sleep soon neutralizes the corroding caustic of Care—and blunts even the barbed arrows of the marble-hearted Fiend, Ingratitude.

When the Pulse is almost paralysed by Anxiety,—half an hour’s repose, will cheer the circulation, restore tranquillity to the perturbed spirit—and dissipate those heavy clouds of Ennui, which sometimes threaten to eclipse the brightest Minds, and best Hearts.—Child of Woe, lay thy Head on thy pillow, (instead of thy Mouth to the bottle,) and bless me for directing Thee to the true source of Lethe—and most sovereign Nepenthé for the Sorrows of Human Life.

The Time requisite to restore the waste occasioned by the action of the Day—depends on the activity of the habits, and on the Health of the Individual,—in general it cannot be less than Seven—and need not be more than Nine hours28.

Invalids will derive much benefit from indulging in the Siesta whenever they feel languid.

A Sailor will tell you, that a Seaman can sleep as much in five hours, as a Landsman can in ten.

Whether rising very early lengthens Life we know not,—but think that sitting up very late shortens it,—and recommend you to rise by eight, and retire to rest by eleven; your feelings will bear out the adage, that “one Hour’s rest before midnight, is worth two after.”

When Old People have been examined with a view to ascertain the causes of their Longevity, they have uniformly agreed in one thing only,—that they ALL went to Bed early, and rose early.

Dr. Franklin published an ingenious Essay on the advantage of early rising—He called it “an Economical Project,” and calculated, that the saving that might be made in the City of Paris, by using Sunshine instead of Candles—at no less than £4,000,000 Sterling.

If the Delicate, and the nervous, the very Young, or the very Old—sit up beyond their usual hour, they feel the want of artificial aid, to raise their spirits to what is no more than the ordinary pitch of those who are in the vigour of their Life—and must fly from the festive board—or purchase a few hours of hilarity at the heavy price of Head-Ach and Dyspepsia for many days after; and a terrible exasperation of any Chronic Complaint they are afflicted with.

When the Body and Mind are both craving repose—to force their action, by the spur of spirituous stimulus, is the most extravagant waste of the “Vis Vitæ,” that Fashion ever invented to consume her foolish Votaries—for Fools they certainly are, who mortgage the comfort of a Week, for the conviviality of an Hour—with the certainty of their term of Life being speedily foreclosed by Gout, Palsy, &c.

Among the most distressing miseries of this “Elysium of Bricks and Mortar,” may be reckoned how rarely we enjoy “the sweets of a Slumber unbroke.”

Sound passes through the thin Party Walls of modern Houses, (which of the first rate, at the Fire Place, are only four inches in thickness;) with most unfortunate facility; this is really an evil of the first magnitude,—if You are so unlucky as to have for next door neighbours—fashionable folks who turn night into day, or such as delight in the sublime Economy of Cindersaving, or Cobweb catching,—it is in vain to seek repose, before the former has indulged in the Evening’s recreation of raking out the Fire, and has played with the Poker till it has made all the red coals black; or, after Molidusta, the Tidy One, has awoke the Morn—with “the Broom, the bonny, bonny Broom.”

A determined Dusthunter, or Cindersaver, murders its neighbour’s sleep—with as little mercy, as Macbeth did Malcolm’s—and bangs doors, and rattles Window shutters, till the “Earth trembles, and Air is aghast!”

All attempts to conciliate a Savage who is in this fancy—will be labour in vain—the arrangement of its fire29 is equally the occupation of the morning, and the amusement of the evening; the preservation of a Cinder and the destruction of a Cobweb, are the main business of its existence:—the best advice we can give you, gentle Reader—is to send it this little Book—and beseech it to place the following pages opposite to its Optic nerves some morning—after you have diverted it from Sleep every half hour during the preceding Night30.

Counsellor Scribblefast, a Special Pleader, who lived on a ground-floor in the Temple—about the time that Sergeant Ponder who dwelt on the first floor, retired to rest, began to practise his Violoncello, “And his loud voice in Thunder spoke.”—The Student above—by way of giving him a gentle hint, struck up “Gently strike the warbling Lyre,” and Will. Harmony’s favourite Hornpipes of “Dont Ye,” and “Pray be Quiet:” however, the dolce and pianissimo of poor Ponder produced no diminution of the prestissimo and fortissimo of the indefatigable Scribblefast.

Ponder, prayed “silence in the Court,” and complained in most pathetic terms—but, alas! his “lowly suit and plaintive ditty” made not the least impression on him who was beneath him.—He at length procured a set of Skettles, and as soon as his musical neighbour had done fiddling, he began con strepito, and bowled away merrily till the morning dawned.—The enraged Musician did not wait long after daylight, to put in his plea against such proceedings, and received in reply, that such exercise had been ordered by a Physician, as the properest Paregoric, after being disturbed by the thorough Bass of the Big Fiddle below—this soon convinced the tormentor of Catgut, who dwelt on the Ground-Floor, that He could not annoy his superior with Impunity, and produced silence on both sides.

People are very unwisely inconsiderate how much it is their own Interest to attend to the comforts of their Neighbours, for which we have a divine command “to love our neighbour as ourself.” “Sic utere tuo, ut alienum non lædas,” is the maxim of our English law. Interrupting one’s Sleep is as prejudicial to Health, as any of the nuisances Blackstone enumerates as actionable.

The majority of the Dogs,—Parrots,—Piano-Fortes, &c. in this Metropolis, are Actionable Nuisances!!!

However inferior in rank and fortune, &c. your next door neighbour may be—there are moments when He may render you the most valuable service.—“A Lion owed his life to the exertions of a Mouse.”

Those who have not the power to please—should have the discretion not to offend;—the most humble may have opportunities to return a Kindness, or resent an Insult.

It is Madness to wantonly annoy any one.

There is plenty of Time for the performance of all offensively noisy operations, between 10 in the Morning and 10 at Night—during which the industrious Housemaid may indulge her Arms in their full swing—and while she polishes her black-leaded grate to the lustre which is so lovely in the eyes of “the Tidy,” the Tat-Too her brush strikes up against its sides may be performed without distressing the irritable ears of her Nervous Neighbours—to whom undisturbed Repose is the most Vital Nourishment.

Little Sweep Soot Ho is another dreadful disturber.—The shrill screaming of these poor boys, “making night hideous,” (indeed at any time) at five or six o’clock in cold dark weather, is a most barbarous custom, and frequently disturbs a whole street before they rouse the drowsy sluggard who sent for him—his Row dy Dow when he reaches the top of the Chimney, and his progress down again, awaken the soundest sleepers, who often wish, that, instead of the Chimney,—he was smiting the skull of the Barbarian who set the poor Child to work at such an unseasonable hour.

The Editor’s feelings are tremblingly alive on this subject.

“Finis coronat opus.”

However soundly he has slept during the early part of the night—if the finishing Nap in the morning is interrupted from continuing to its natural termination—his whole System is shook by it, and all that sleep has before done for him, is undone in an instant;—he gets up distracted and languid, and the only part of his head that is of any use to him, is the hole between his Nose and Chin.

The firm Health of those who live in the Country, arises not merely from breathing a purer Air,—but from quiet and regular habits, especially the enjoyment of plenty of undisturbed Repose,—this enables them to take Exercise, which gives them an Appetite, and by taking their food at less distant and more equally divided intervals—they receive a more regular supply of that salutary nourishment, which is necessary to restore the wear of the system, and support it in an uniform state of excitement,—equally exempt from the languor of inanition, and the fever of repletion.

Thus, the Animal Functions are performed with a perfection and regularity, the tranquillity of which, in the incessantly irregular habits of a Town-life, is continually interrupted,—some ridiculous Anxiety or other consumes the Animal Spirits, and the important process of Restoration is imperfectly performed.

Dyspeptic and Nervous disorders, and an inferior degree of both extensive and intensive Life31 are the inevitable consequence, and are the lowest price for (what are called) the Pleasures of Fashionable Society.

Dr. Cadogan has told us (very truly) that Chronic diseases, (and we may add, most of those equivocal Disorders, which are continually teasing people, but are too insignificant to induce them to institute a medical process to remove them,) are caused by Indolence—Intemperance—and Vexation.

It is the fashion to refer all these Disorders to Debility—but Debility is no more than the effect of Indolence, Intemperance, and Vexation—the two first are under our own immediate control—and Temperance, Industry, and Activity, are the best remedies to prevent, or remove the Debility which reduces our means of resisting the third.

During the Summer of Life32, i. e. the second period of it, (see page 34,) while we hope that every thing may come right, the Heart bounds with vigour, and the Vital flame burns too brightly to be much, or long subdued by vexation.

This originally least cause, soon becomes the greatest, and in the Autumn of our existence, when Experience has dissipated the theatric illusion with which Hope varnished the expectations of our earlier days, we begin to fear that every thing will go wrong.

The insatiable ruling passions of the second and third periods of Life,—Ambition and Avarice,—the loss of our first and best friends, our Parents,—regret for the past, and anxiety about the future, prevent the enjoyment of the present,—and are the cause of those Nervous and Bilious Disorders, which attack most of us at the commencement of the third period of Life—these precursors of Palsy and Gout, may generally be traced to Disappointments and Anxiety of mind33; and

People need not groan about the Insanities and Absurdities of others—it is surely quite sufficient to suffer for our own, of which most of us have plenty—we ought to endeavour to convert those of others, into causes of comfort and consolation, instead of fretting about them—if you receive rudeness in return for civility—and ingratitude for kindness, it may move your Pity—but should never excite your Anger—instead of murmuring at Heaven for having created such Crazy Creatures! be fervently thankful that you are not equally inconsistent and ridiculous—and Pray, that your own Mind, may not be afflicted with the like aberrations.

Indigestion34, is the chief cause of perturbed Sleep, and often excites the imaginary presence of that troublesome Bedfellow the Nightmare. On this subject see Peptic Precepts

Some cannot Sleep if they eat any Supper—and certainly the lighter this meal is, the better—Others, need not put on their Night cap, if they do not first bribe their Stomachs to good behaviour by a certain quantity of Bread and Cheese and Beer, &c. &c., and go to Bed almost immediately after.

As to the wholesomeness of a Solid Supper, per se, we do not think it advisable,—but habit may have made it indispensable, and we know it is often the most comfortable Meal among the middle ranks of Society, who have as large a share of Health as any.

We caution Bad sleepers to beware how they indulge in the habit of exciting sleep, by taking any of the preparations of Opium—they are all injurious to the Stomach—and often inconvenient in their effects upon the Bowels:—

“Repose by small fatigue is earned, and Weariness can snore upon the flint, when nesty Sloth, finds a down pillow hard.”

As there can be no good Digestion without diligent Mastication,—so there can be no sound Sleep, without sufficient Exercise.

The most inoffensive and agreeable Anodyne is to drink some good White Wine, or Mulled Wine, by way of a supplement to your Night cap.—One glass, taken when in Bed, immediately before lying down, is as effective as two or three if you sit up any time after.—(See Tewahdiddle, No. 467.)

Many people, if awoke during their first sleep, are unsettled all that night—and uncomfortable and nervous the following day.—The first sleep of those who eat Suppers, commonly terminates when the food passes from the Stomach.—Invalids then awake, and sometimes remain so, in a Feverish state,—the Stomach feeling discontented from being unoccupied, and having nothing to play with:—a small crust of Bread, or a bit of Biscuit well chewed, accompanied or not, as Experience and Instinct will suggest, with a few mouthsful of Mutton or Beef Broth (No. 564), or Toast and Water (No. 463*), or single Grog35, (i. e. one Brandy to nine Waters), will often restore its tranquillity, and catch Sleep again, which nothing invites so irresistibly, as introducing something to the Stomach,—that will entertain it, without fatiguing it.

We have heard persons say they have been much distressed by an intemperate craving for Food when they awoke out of their first sleep, and have not got to sleep soundly again after—and risen in the morning as tired as when they went to bed at night—but without any appetite for Breakfast—such will derive great benefit from the foregoing Advice.

A Broth (No. 564), or Gruel (No. 572) Supper, is perhaps the best for the Dyspeptic,—and those who have eaten and drank plentifully at Dinner.

The Bed Room should be in the quietest situation possible, as it were “the Temple of Silence,”—and, if possible, not less than 16 feet square—the height of this Apartment, in which we pass almost half of our Time, is in modern houses absurdly abridged, to increase that of the Drawing Room, which is often not occupied once in a month:—instead of living in the pleasant part of the House, where they might enjoy Light and Air, how often we find people squeezing themselves into “a nice snug Parlour,” where Apollo cannot spy.

We do not recommend either Curtains or Tester, &c. to the Bed, especially during the Summer;—by the help of these, those who might have the benefit of the free circulation of air in a large Room, very ingeniously contrive to reduce it to a small Closet:—Chimney-Boards and Window-Curtains are also inadmissible in a Bed Room; but Valetudinarians who are easily awoke, or very susceptible of Cold, will do wisely to avail themselves of well made Double36 Windows and Doors, these exclude both Noise and Cold in a very considerable degree.

The best Bed is a well stuffed and well curled Horsehair Mattress, six inches thick at the Head, gradually diminishing to three at Feet, on this another Mattress five or six inches in thickness: these should be unpicked and exposed to the air, once every Year. An elastic Horsehair mattress, is incomparably the most pleasant, as well as the most wholesome Bed.

Bed Rooms should be thoroughly ventilated by leaving both the Window and the Door open every day when the weather is not cold or damp—during which the Bed should remain unmade, and the Clothes be taken off and spread out for an hour, at least, before the Bed is made again.

In very Hot Weather, the temperature becomes considerably cooler every minute after ten o’clock—between eight o’clock and twelve, the Thermometer often falls in Sultry weather—from ten to twenty degrees—and those who can sit up till twelve o’clock, will have the advantage of sleeping in an Atmosphere many degrees cooler, than those who go to bed at ten:—this is extremely important to Nervous Invalids—who however extremely they may suffer from heat, we cannot advise to sleep with the smallest part of the window open during the night—in such sultry days, the Siesta (see page 94,) will not only be a great support against the heat, but will help You to sit up to enjoy the advantage above stated.

A Fire in the Bed Room, is sometimes indispensable—but not as usually made—it is commonly lighted only just before bed-time, and prevents Sleep by the noise it makes, and the unaccustomed stimulus of its light.

Chimneys frequently smoke when a fire is first lighted, particularly in snowy and frosty weather; and an Invalid has to encounter not only the damp and cold of the Room—but has his Lungs irritated with the sulphureous puffs from the fresh lighted Fire.

A Fire should be lighted about three or four hours before, and so managed that it may burn entirely out half an hour before you go to Bed—then the air of the room will be comfortably warmed—and certainly more fit to receive an Invalid who has been sitting all day in a parlour as hot as an Oven,—than a damp chamber, that is as cold as a Well.