THE VALUE OF EXERCISE.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]
SIR,—Perhaps the experience of a woman who has done her share of literary labour, and yet has retained bodily vigour and activity till late in life, may throw some light on the useful discussion in your columns on physical exercise for mental workers.
I attribute much of the health of body and mind which I have enjoyed for half a century to a dear, old, indulgent, country doctor, of the good, pre-scientific type, who solemnly advised my parents that my hours of study with my governess should close daily at twelve o'clock. The result of this modest modicum of instruc- tion, and of a corresponding number of hours spent in rambling about the woods and the sea-shore:rowing my boat and riding my pony, was that I grew up able to bear the horrid strain of two years' high-pressure schooling, and then of serious, solitary study in early womanhood. Many a summer morning's sun has found me still over my books, and tempted me out to take my sleep in a garden-seat. Not having overtasked myself too early, was able, from the age of five-and-twenty to five-and-fifty, to write at any time under pressure nine or ten hours a day without any ill consequences. But now comes my experience as to bodily exercise. I hold it to be absolutely indispensable to mental (I had almost said to moral) health, to take a large amount of physical exercise. But this exercise need not and can- not well be taken on the same days when the heavy mental work has to be done. So far I agree with your corre- spondent "A Victim," and I believe her sad experience has been that of numberless young men at Oxford and Cambridge. They could not with impunity strain brain and muscles together. But they might with the greatest benefit have exercised them vigorously alternately. This may be done best by devoting the summer holiday to complete mental rest, and to mountain- climbing, sea-bathing and swimming, and walking-tour making, or the nearest equivalent for these things in our reach. Then there were the lesser breaks of Christmas and other holidays—and the Sunday afternoons, which I look upon as most precious hours for mental and bodily recuperation ; all the more, if in the forenoon some good preacher has rightly per- formed his office, and led our spirits for a while on the mountain paths of lofty thoughts, from which we descend, doubly refreshed, to the things of earth.
Another matter on which I would fain insist (in opposition to your poor correspondent's idea of sitting and lounging about in the open air), is that every woman should strive, at no distant intervals, to take such very vigorous and energetic exercise as should thoroughly warm her blood, and throw out wholesome moisture on the skin. It is the bane of fine ladies, with their cumbrous skirts and ridiculous, high-heeled shoes, that, unless they play lawn-tennis (blessings on the inventor !), they do not know, for years together, what it is to take Nature's best remedy for their numerous com- plaints,—a natural Turkish bath.
These counsels I respectfully tender, not merely to young women, but to those who, like myself, are attaining their three- score years. In fact, I find that, whereas in youth I was physically somewhat indolent, though mentally active, increasing years rather bring with them an added sense of the joy and advantage of using my limbs for many hours a day, with a corre- sponding laziness about employing my brains. I will sum up by three pieces of advice :—First, to mothers. Let not your young daughter spend more than four hours per diem as a mazimum in the schoolroom, including "practice." Secondly, to young women. Work hard at your books ; but also, at proper intervals, shut them up for a day, for a week, for a couple of months, and then walk, swim, row, ride, climb moun- tain, and play lawn-tennis, as hard and heartily as you studied before. Lastly, to elderly ladies. Do not give up bodily exercise before the very last hour, when it becomes im- possible. Do not wear clothes which make it too great a labour to step briskly up hill ; and do not—because you have, perhaps, the misfortune to possess a carriage—abandon the use of your infinitely more precious property in your own two feet.—I am, Sir, &c., THE AUTHOR OF "THE DUTIES OF WOMEN."
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