THE GATES OF PARADISE.
“Thou only givest these gifts to man; and thou hast the keys of
Paradise, O just, subtle, and mighty opium.”——_Confessions of an
Opium-Eater._
According to the common opinion of the Arabs, there are seven heavens,
one above another. The upper surface of each is believed to be nearly
plane, and generally supposed to be circular, five hundred years’
journey in width. The first is described to be formed of emerald; the
second of white silver; the third of large white pearls; the fourth
of ruby; the fifth of red gold; the sixth of yellow jacinth; and the
seventh of shining light. Some assert Paradise to be in the seventh
heaven; others state that above the seventh heaven are seven seas of
light, then an undefined number of veils, or separations, of different
substances, seven of each kind, and then Paradise, which consists of
seven stages, one above another. The first is the mansion of glory, of
white pearls; the second, the mansion of peace, of ruby; the third,
the garden of rest, of green chrysolite; the fourth, the garden of
eternity, of green coral; the fifth, garden of delight, of white
silver; the sixth, the garden of Paradise, of red gold; the seventh,
the garden of perpetual abode or Eden, of large pearls—this overlooking
all the former, and canopied by the throne of the Compassionate.
The most direct road and speediest conveyance to Paradise, according to
the testimony of all confirmed opiophagi, is by means of that subtle
drug, opium. The most common form in which it is taken is that of
vapour, inhaled through a peculiarly-constructed pipe. Those used by
the Siamese resemble in form the common narghilè, or hubble-bubble of
the Levant. They consist of an empty cocoa-nut shell, in an orifice
in the top of which a hollow wooden tube is inserted, and the opening
hermetically closed, so as to prevent the escape of either air or
smoke. In another hole in the side of the cocoa-nut shell, a common
little bamboo tube, about eighteen inches long, is tightly fixed; a
little earthen bowl, perforated at the bottom like a sieve, is filled
with opium, and one or two pieces of fire being placed thereon, this
bowl is fitted on the top of the wooden tube. The man who hands round
this pipe holds with one hand the bottom of the cocoa-nut (which is
half full of water), and with the other hand he presents the bamboo
tube to the smoker, who, putting it to his mouth, inhales three or
four whiffs of this most intoxicating narcotic. The effect is almost
instantaneous. He sinks gently against the cushion set at his back, and
becomes insensible to what is passing around. The pipe is passed round
from mouth to mouth, so that half an hour generally intervenes between
the first whiff taken by the first smoker, and the last sigh heaved by
the last man, as he revives from his short, pleasant dream, into which
the whiffing has thrown him. One old and inveterate Siamese smoker
declared to a recent resident among them, that if he knew his life
would be forfeited by the act, he could no more resist the temptation
than he could curb a fiery steed by a thread bridle. It carried him
into the seventh heaven—he heard and saw things no tongue could utter,
and felt as though his soul soared so high above things earthly, during
those precious moments of oblivion, as to have flown beyond the reach
of its heavy, burthensome cage.
Opium smoking is not generally conducted on a plan so social. The
Siamese may be considered as an exception to the general rule. The
method pursued at Hong-Kong, of which we have received an account from
a competent authority, is more a type of the opium-smoker in general,
and the method he pursues.
In a reclining position, on boards placed on tressels, ranged around
long, disgustingly dirty rooms, may be seen, at all hours of the day,
haggard beggars, with putrefying sores, whose miserable feelings of
desperation and woe drive them here to obtain a partial alleviation,
by steeping their senses in forgetfulness. The stem of the pipe used
for smoking is made of hard wood, and would be taken for an English
paper-ruler, about eighteen inches long, and an inch in diameter. The
earthenware bowl or head screws on and off, at about three inches from
the end. An assistant of the divan, sitting in a corner of the room, is
constantly engaged in scraping and cleaning these heads, which, from
the small size of the hole through which the opium is inhaled (about
the size of a pin’s head), are apt to get clogged. The quantity of
opium intended to be smoked, varying at a time from twenty to a hundred
grains, is dipped carefully out of small gallipots, laid on a leaf, and
charged for at the rate of a dollar per ounce. The opium is used by
dipping into it the pointed end of a small wire, which is then applied
to the flame of a lamp. In ignition it inflates into a bubble, and is
then, with a dexterity obtained only by constant practice, rolled on
the pipe head until it assumes the shape and size of a small orange-pip
cut in half, and of the hardness of wax. It is then placed over the
orifice in the head of the pipe, like a small chimney, through which
the flame of the lamp is drawn into the bowl, converting the opium, in
its passage, into a blue smoke, which is inspired by long continuous
whiffs, and without removal of the pipe from the mouth, respired
through the nostrils. Two or three pipes may be taken by persons
unaccustomed to the habit without leaving any other unpleasant feeling
than a harshness in the throat. There are in Hong-Kong ten regular
licensed divans for the smoking of opium, and nearly all these are in
the Chinese portion of the town.
This picture would, however, be incomplete, without a few more
particulars concerning the individuals who give themselves up to
indulgence in the drug. And for this we must again seek the aid of
an experienced medical man, who for years lived and laboured in the
midst of opium smokers. “Nothing on earth,” he states, “can equal
the apparent quiet enjoyment of the opium smoker. As he enters the
miserable scene of his future ecstasy, he collects his small change,
the labour, or begging, or theft of the day, with which he supplies
himself with his quantity of Chandu; then taking the pipe, which is
furnished gratis, he reclines on a board covered with a mat, and with
his head resting on a wooden or bamboo pillow, he commences filling
his pipe. As he entered, his looks were the picture of misery, his
eyes were sunk, his gait slouched, his step trembling, and his voice
quivering, with a sallow cast of countenance, and a dull unimpressive
eye. He who runs might read that he is an opium-smoker, and, diving
still deeper below appearances, would declare him an opium sufferer.
But now with pipe in hand, opium by his side, and a lamp before him,
his eye already glistens, and his features soften in their expression,
while he is preparing the coming luxury. At last it is ready, and
the pipe being applied to the lamp, there is heard a soughing noise,
as with a full and hearty pull, he draws in all that opium and air
can give. Slowly is the inspiration relaxed, but not until all the
opium that is in the pipe is consumed; then, allowing the vapour,
impregnated with the narcotic influence, to remain in his chest until
nature compels him to respire, he gently allows it to escape, seeming
to grudge the loss of each successive exit, until all is gone, when
exhausted and soothed—
“‘Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams,’
he withdraws the pipe, reclines his head, and gives himself up to
the first calming effect of the drug. His next attempt confirms the
comfort, and now no longer does he complain of racking limbs or
aching bones; no longer does the rheum run from his eyes, and relaxed
is the tightness of the chest, as he dwells with fond affection on
the inspiring pipe. His second pipe being finished, he can now look
round, and has time to gaze on what is going on; but his soul is
still wrapped in the bliss that is anticipated from what remains of
his allowance, for not until a third or fourth whiff do the feelings
of positive pleasure arise. Then is felt a lightness of the head, a
tingling in every limb—the eyes seem to be enlarged, and the ears
sharpened to hearing, an elasticity, an inclination to mount on high is
experienced—all pains are gone, and pleasure now remains—all weariness
has left, and freshness takes its place. The loathing of food that was
lately experienced is changed to a relish for what is piquant, and a
great desire is frequently felt for some particular food. The tongue
is now loosened, and tells its tale. For whatever is secret becomes
open, and what was intended for one becomes known to all. Still there
is no excitement, but a calmness, soft, soothing, and sedative. He
dreams no dreams, nor thinks of the morrow but with a smile in his
eye; he fills his pipe with the last of his allowance; slowly inhaling
it, he seems to brighten up. The smile that was sparkling in his eye,
extends to other features, and his appearance is one of complete, yet
placid enjoyment. Presently the pipe is slowly displaced, or drops
by his side; his head, if raised, is now laid on the pillow—feature
after feature gives up its smile—the eye becomes glazed—now droops
the upper eyelid, and falls the chin with the lower lip, deeper and
deeper inspirations follow—all perception is gone; objects may strike
the eye, but no sights are seen; sounds may fall on the ear, but no
sensations are excited. So he passes into sleep, disturbed and broken,
from which the wretched being awakes to a full conception of his
misery. ‘To sleep, perchance to dream!’—and what dreams!—what ecstatic
delights!—what ravishments!—what illusions!
“‘Things
Seen for the first time, and things, long ago
Seen, which he ne’er again shall see, do blend
Strangely and brokenly with ghastly things
Such as we hear in childhood, scorn in youth,
And doubt in manhood, save when seen.’”
In the narrative of the voyage of H.M.S. _Samarang_, Mr. A. Adams
informs us, that in a large caravansary belonging to the Malay village
near Singapore, he had an opportunity of observing the effects of
opium on the physical aspect of the Malay. One of these was a feeble,
worn out old man, with an unearthly brilliancy in his eye. His body
was bent forwards and greatly emaciated—his face was shrunken, wan,
and haggard—his long skinny arm, wasted fingers, and sharp pointed
nails resembled more the claw of some rapacious bird, than the hand
of a lord of the creation—his head was nodding and tremulous—his skin
wrinkled and yellow, and his teeth were a few decayed, pointed, and
black stained fangs. As he was approached, he raised his body from
the mat on which he was reposing. There was something interesting
and at the same time melancholy in the physique of the old man, who
now in rags, appeared from the silver ornaments he wore, and by his
embroidered jacket, to have been formerly a person of some distinction;
but the fascinating influence of the deadly drug had fastened on him,
and a pallet in a caravansary was the reward of self-indulgence. “In my
experience of opium,” says Mr.————, “which has not, however, been very
extensive, I cannot say I have found as much pleasure as the English
opium-eater in his Confessions would lead us to believe fell to his
lot. After three or four Chinese opium pipes, I found my brain very
much unsettled, and teeming with thoughts ill-arranged, and pursuing
each other in wanton dreamy play, without order or connection, the
circulating system being at the time much excited, the frame tremulous,
the eyeballs fixed, and a peculiar and agreeable thrilling sensation
extending along the nerves. The same succession of image crowding upon
image, and thoughts revelling in strange disorder, continues for some
time, during which a person appears to be in the condition of the
madman alluded to by Dryden in his play of the ‘Spanish Fryar.’
“‘He raves, his words are loose,
As heaps of sand, and scattering wide from sense
So high he’s mounted on his airy throne,
That now the wind has got into his head,
And turned his brains to frenzy.’
Unutterable melancholy feelings succeed to this somewhat pleasurable
period of excitement, but a soft languor steals shortly across the
senses, and the half-poisoned individual falls asleep. The next day
there is great nausea and sickness of stomach, headache, and tormenting
thirst, which makes you curse opium, and exclaim, with Shakespeare’s
‘King John,’
“‘And none of you will bid the winter come
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their course
Thro’ my burnt bosom, nor entreat the North
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold.’”
Dr. Madden tried, experimentally, the effects of opium—he commenced
with a grain, which produced no perceptible effect, to this he
afterwards added another grain. After two hours from commencing the
operation, his spirits became excited. “My faculties,” he writes,
“appeared enlarged, everything I looked at seemed increased in volume.
I had no longer the same pleasure when I closed my eyes which I had
when they were open; it appeared to me as if it was only external
objects which were acted on by the imagination, and magnified into
images of pleasure; in short, it was the faint exquisite music of a
dream in a waking moment. I made my way home as fast as possible,
dreading, at every step, that I should commit some extravagance. In
walking, I was hardly sensible of my feet touching the ground—it seemed
as if I slid along the street, impelled by some invisible agent, and
that my blood was composed of some ethereal fluid, which rendered my
body lighter than air. I got to bed the moment I reached home. The
most extraordinary visions of delight filled my brain all night. In
the morning I rose pale and dispirited, my head ached, my body was so
debilitated, that I was obliged to remain on the sofa all day, dearly
paying for my first essay at opium-eating.” Thus far, the opium-eater
and the opium-smoker seem to agree in the principal results from the
use of the drug.
From the communications of Dr. Medhurst may be learnt many important
facts relative to this habit in China. Day by day, and year by year,
the practice of opium-smoking prevails more and more among this
people, and by and by it will doubtless have a powerful effect upon
the destinies of the country. It is said, that the late Emperor used
the drug; it is certain that most of the government officers do, and
their innumerable attendants are in the same category. Opium is used
as a luxury by all classes, and to a great extent, indeed so great,
that it cannot fail to exhibit its effects speedily upon the mass of
the inhabitants. In rich families, even if the head of the house does
not use the drug, the sons soon learn to use it, and almost all are
exposed to the temptation of employing it, as many of their friends
and acquaintances are in the habit of smoking; and it is considered
a mark of politeness to offer the pipe to a friend or visitor. Many
persons fly to the use of the pipe when they get into trouble, and when
they are afflicted with chronic or painful diseases, sleeplessness,
&c. Several persons who have been attended for malignant tumours
were made victims of the drug, by the use of it to appease the pain
and distress they had to endure. The beggars are, to a great extent,
under its influence; but they use the dregs and scrapings only of the
half-consumed drug, which is removed from the pipe-head when it is
cleaned. The most common cause of the Chinese resorting to the use of
the opium-pipe is their not knowing how to employ their leisure hours
when the business of the day is over—there is no periodical literature
to engage their attention. Their families do not present sufficient
attractions to keep them at home, and sauntering about of an evening,
with nothing to employ the mind, they are easily tempted into the opium
shops, where one acquaintance or another is sure to be found, who
invites to the use of the drug.
Many of the middling classes dissipate their money in this indulgence,
and, among the lower classes, those who indulge in the use of opium
are reduced to abject poverty. Having no property, furniture, or
clothes to dispose of, their wives and children are sold to supply
their ever-increasing appetite for the drug; and when these are gone,
with greatly diminished strength for labour, they can no longer earn
sufficient for their own wants, and are obliged to beg for their daily
bread. As to the supply of opium, they must depend on the scrapings
of other men’s pipes, and as soon as they are unable, by begging, to
obtain the necessaries of life, together with the half-burnt opium, on
which their very life depends, they droop and die by the roadside, and
are buried at the expense of the charitable.
Two respectable young men, the sons of an officer of high rank,
well informed, having received a good education, accustomed to good
society, and who excited great interest in the minds of those with
whom they came in contact, lately died. So inveterate was their habit
of opium-smoking, and so large the quantity necessary to keep up the
stimulus, that their funds were exhausted. Friends assisted them, and
relieved their necessities again and again; but it was impossible to
give them bread and opium too, and they subsequently died, one after
the other, in the most abject and destitute condition.
At Shanghae, just inside the north gate, in front of a temple, one of
such destitute persons, unable to procure either food or opium, was
lying at the last gasp, while two or three others with drooping heads
were sitting near, who looked as if they would soon be prostrated too.
The next day, the first of the group lay dead and stiff, with a coarse
mat wound round his body for a shroud. The rest were lying down unable
to rise. The third day another was dead, and the remainder nearly so.
Help was vain, and pity was the only feeling that could be indulged.
It may be judged of the extent of opium-smoking in China from the
reports of the native Teapoas, inclosures in Sir J. Bowring’s Report.
The inhabitants in the Chung-wan (Centre bazaar) are about 5,800. The
number that smoke opium, merely because they like it, are upwards of
2,600. In the Hah-wan (Canton bazaar) there are upwards of 1,200. The
number that smoke opium, merely because they like it, are upwards of
600. At Sheong-wan the number of male residents are 13,000; there are
3,000 opium-smokers. At Tai-ping-shan the number of inhabitants are
5,300 men; of these upwards of 1,200 smoke opium because they like it.
The number of inhabitants in Ting-loong-chow are 2,500; the number of
opium-smokers are reported at 400. Thus, out of 27,800 inhabitants,
7,800 of whom, or 26 per cent., are smokers of opium.
Dr. McPherson, in writing of the Shikhs, informs us that most of the
Shirdars are under the influence of spirits or of opium for eighteen
hours out of the twenty-four. Their early use, both of the spirit and
the drug, renders them indispensable through life. If deprived of their
usual dose, the Shikh is one of the most wretched beings imaginable.
Before engaging in any feast, the Shikh takes his opium, by which
he is for a time excited, and this is soon followed by languor and
inactivity. Talking of Runjeet Sing, who was at that time labouring
under paralysis, from which eventually he died, he says he still used
opium, so that little could be expected from remedial means.
The Shikhs are forbidden the use of tobacco by the tenets of their
religion, but find a ready substitute for it in opium, which is
consumed in great quantities throughout the whole of the Punjaub, as
well as among the protected Shikh states. While under the effects of
this drug, the Shikh is a very different person to the same individual
before he has taken it. In the former instance, he is active and
talkative; in the latter, lazy and stupid.
It has been imagined that the preparation of opium has an injurious
effect upon those engaged therein; but Dr. Eatwell, of the Benares
Agency, states that, “amongst the thousands of individuals,
cultivators, and _employés_, with whom the factory is filled during
the receiving and manufacturing seasons, no complaints are ever heard
of any injurious effects resulting from the influence of the drug,
whilst they all remain quite as free from general sickness as persons
unconnected with the general establishment—in fact, if anything, more
so. It occasionally happens that a casual visitor to the factory
complains of giddiness or headache; but the European officers employed
in the department, who pass the greater part of the day with the
thermometer between 95° and 105° Fah. amongst tons of the drug, never
experience any bad effects from it. The native purkhea sits usually
from six A.M. to three P.M. daily, with his hand and arm immersed
nearly the whole time in the drug, which he is constantly smelling,
and yet he feels no inconvenience from it. He has informed me, that
at the commencement of the season, he experiences usually a sensation
of numbness in the fingers; but I believe this to be more the result
of fatigue, consequent upon the incessant use of the arm and fingers,
than of any effect of the opium. In the large caking-vats, men are
employed to wade knee-deep through the drug for several hours during
the morning, and they remain standing in it during the greater part of
the rest of the day, serving out the opium by armsful, their bodies
being naked, with the exception of a cloth about the loins. These men
complain of a sensation of drowsiness towards the end of their daily
labours, and declare that they are overpowered early in the evening
by sleep, but they do not complain of the effect as being either
unpleasant or injurious.
“Infants, of a few months old, may be frequently seen lying on the
opium-besmeared floor, under the vats, in which dangerous position they
are left by their thoughtless mothers; but, strange to say, without
any accident ever occurring. Here are abundant facts to show that the
health of those employed in the opium-factory, and in the manipulation
of the drug, is not exposed to any risk whatever; whilst the impunity
with which the drug is handled by hundreds of individuals, for hours
together, proves that it has no endemic action; for I am inclined
to consider the soporific effect experienced by the vat-treaders as
produced through the lungs, and not through the skin.” This may be
considered, therefore, as setting the question entirely at rest, and
demonstrating the fact that the factory labourers are not sufferers.
According to a Chinese petition presented on one occasion to the
Emperor, it is believed that the English, by introducing opium into
that country, did so as a means of its subjugation, presuming, we may
suppose, that the Celestials were invincible, except by some such
cabalistic means. “In the History of Formosa,” says this document, “we
find the following passage: ‘Opium was first produced in Kaoutsinne,
which by some is said to be the same as Kalapa or Batavia. The natives
of this place were at the first sprightly and active, and, being good
soldiers, were always successful in battle. But the people called
Hung-maou (red-haired) came thither, and having manufactured opium,
seduced some of the natives into the habit of smoking it. From these,
the mania for it spread rapidly through the whole nation; so that in
process of time the natives became feeble and enervated, submitted
to foreign rule, and ultimately were completely subjugated. Now
the English,’ it continues, ‘are of the race of foreigners called
Hung-maou. In introducing opium into this country, their purpose has
been to weaken and enfeeble the Central Empire. If not early aroused to
a sense of our danger, we shall find ourselves, ere long, on the last
step towards ruin.’”
The degradation or subjugation of the Chinese is much more likely to
be affected by a habit concerning which we hear less, but which is
infinitely more disastrous than the indulgence in opium. This is the
brandy-drinking customs of the north. This horrible drink, distilled
from millet, is the Chinaman’s delight, and he swallows it like
water. Many ruin themselves with brandy, as others do with gaming.
In company, or even alone, they will pass whole days and nights in
drinking successive little cups of it, until their intoxication
makes them incapable of carrying the cup to their lips. “Gambling and
drunkenness,” says Abbé Huc, “are the two permanent causes of pauperism
in China.”
It is unfortunately the custom for the distillers to supply brandy
on credit for a whole year, so that a tippler may go on for a long
time drawing from this inexhaustible spring. His troubles will only
begin in the last moon—the legal period of payment. Then, indeed, he
must pay, and with usury; and as money does not usually become more
plentiful with a man from the habit of getting drunk every day, he
has to sell his house and his land, if he has any, or to carry his
furniture and his clothes to the pawnbroker’s. In the south, there is
less brandy-drinking, and more gambling; but between the two there is
little to choose, as either impoverishes those who devote themselves to
its service, and to which even opium-smoking is preferable.
Mr. Meadows, the Chinese Government Interpreter at Hong-Kong, says,
“As to the morality of the opium question, I am fortunately able to
give the home reader, by analogy, and in a few words, as exact an idea
of it as I have got myself. Smoking a little opium daily, is like
taking a pint or two of ale, or a few glasses of wine daily; smoking
more opium is like taking brandy as well as beer and wine, or a large
allowance of these latter; smoking very much opium is like excessive
brandy and gin-drinking, leading to delirium tremens and premature
death. After frequent consideration of the subject during thirteen
years, the last two spent at home, I can only say that, although the
substances are different, I can, as to the morality of producing,
selling, and consuming them, see no difference at all; while the only
difference I can observe in the consequences of consumption is, that
the opium-smoker is not so violent, so maudlin, or so disgusting as the
drunkard. The clothes and breath of the confirmed and constant smoker
are more or less marked by the peculiar penetrating odour of opium,
and he gets careless in time of washing from his hands the stains
from his pipe. But all this is not more disagreeable than the beery,
vinous, or ginny odour, and the want of cleanliness that characterize
the confirmed drunkard. In all other respects, the contrast is to the
disadvantage of the drunkard.”
Without pursuing this question further, there is evidently a
fascination in the pipe to the opium-smoker, to a degree of which
the most ardent lover of a pipe of tobacco has but a faint idea. In
proportion as the indulgence in the drug produces a state of happiness
far transcending all that the votary of the weed experiences, so
does its influence over him increase; and if it is difficult for the
habitual smoker of tobacco to forego the pleasure of his accustomed
pipe, it is therefore ten times more difficult for the smoker or eater
of opium to renounce for ever, a custom which brings with it, even
in imagination though it may be, tenfold more pleasures, and a more
ecstatic enjoyment. This is the universal evidence of all who have been
inquired of, and of all who have had intercourse with opiophagi in all
parts of the world.
What fascinating influence this Paradise in prospect has upon those
who indulge in journeys thither, may be imagined from the notorious
fact, that in Bristol, Coleridge went so far as to hire men—porters,
hackney-coachmen, and others—to oppose by force his entrance into any
druggist’s shop. But as the authority for stopping him was derived
only from himself, so these poor men found themselves in a fix; for
when the time and the inclination arrived, he proceeded to the shop,
and on their offering resistance, he, the same who had instructed them
to prevent his entrance, now insisted on their allowing him to pass,
annulled all former instructions, and on the authority of one who paid
for their services, demanded its exercise as he thought fit, and the
gates of Paradise were opened.
According to Darwin, even poultry have mounted the ladder to within
a few steps of Elysium; for that worthy informs us, that they were
fed for the London market by mixing gin and opium with their food,
and keeping them in the dark, but that “they must be killed as soon
as they are fattened, or they become weak and emaciated, like human
drunkards.” We have no recording pullet to inform us of the visions
of the barn-door family under the influence of the beatific drug, nor
“Confessions of a Chanticleer,” to tell of the pains that succeeded a
too-free indulgence in the little pills; all we learn from the account
is, that the vision of Paradise very closely preceded its reality, for
the feathered bipeds were dosed and killed. The human biped for half
a century continues his dream—and all through that period it is but
a dream—yet that he is happy while under its influence there can be
no doubt; and when he has reclined on his couch, obtained his pipe,
and sunk into the beatific oblivion so coveted by the Asiatic, we may
imagine his exclaiming with the Peri, after obtaining the trickling
tear,
“Joy, joy for ever! my task is done;
The gates are passed, and heaven is won.
Oh! am I not happy? I am—I am.
To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad
Are the diamond turrets of Shadukram,
And the fragrant bowers of Amberabad.
Joy, joy for ever! my task is done;
The gates are passed, and heaven is won!”