On the Regulation of the Body

There are two ways a man may fail his own flesh. He may starve it, or he may stuff it. Both failures are plain to see by any observer around a dinner table. The gaunt man, his cheeks hollow and his movements restless, betrays a constitution weakened by neglect. The corpulent man, red-faced and breathless, is no better. He resembles nothing so much as a goose fattened for the knife, promising indulgence and sloth rather than strength.

Picture the factory hand who spends his wages in ale. His belly swells, his breath shortens, and his mornings come too late. Soon he cannot lift his tools, nor walk to the mill without stopping to wheeze. His mates laugh, his wife despairs, and his place is taken by a younger man. What he thought a private pleasure turned into public disgrace.

Nor is the half-starved clerk any wiser. He brags of long hours and skipped meals, yet his eyes sink, his hands tremble, and he falls to fever. His superiors see not diligence but frailty. Who will trust a ledger to a man who cannot keep his own flesh in order?

Health is the middle ground. Not bones straining the skin, nor flesh sagging from the frame. The man of sound body stands steady, his form answering to his will. A touch of plumpness has always been taken as proof of vigour, for it shows a man has eaten enough to fuel his labour. But corpulence is another story. That is appetite turned master, discipline thrown aside.

Do not fool yourself into thinking your body belongs only to you. A man bears his family’s name in his stance, his employer’s trust in his gait, his country’s strength in his presence. When he goes soft, he drags more than himself down. The body left idle becomes a liability. The body gone slack becomes a joke. Ridicule, once earned, is ruin not far behind.

Understand this, then: moderation is not mere politeness, but the cornerstone of manhood. Eat well, but stop short of indulgence. Sleep enough, but never wallow in bed. Keep the limbs in use, as one keeps the mind in practice. Your flesh is a servant, govern it, or it will betray you.

Author’s admonition: The man who loses command of his body loses command of his future. That is no fancy phrase. It is the fate written, again and again, in the wrecks of those who failed. Do not let yourself be counted among them.