DRUNKENNESS MODIFIED BY THE INEBRIATING AGENT.
Intoxication is not only influenced by temperament, but by the nature of
the agent which produces it. Thus, ebriety from ardent spirits differs in
some particulars from that brought on by opium or malt liquors, such as
porter and ale.
I. _Modified by Ardent Spirits._—Alcohol is the principle of intoxication
in all liquors. It is this which gives to wine,[11] ale, and spirits,
their characteristic properties. In the natural state, however, it is
so pungent, that it could not be received into the stomach, even in a
moderate quantity, without producing death. It can, therefore, only be
used in dilution; and in this state we have it, from the strongest ardent
spirits, to simple small beer. The first (ardent spirits) being the most
concentrated of its combinations, act most rapidly upon the constitution.
They are more inflammatory, and intoxicate sooner than any of the others.
Swallowed in an overdose, they act almost instantaneously—extinguishing
the senses and overcoming the whole body with a sudden stupor. When
spirits are swallowed raw, as in the form of a dram, they excite a glow
of heat in the throat and stomach, succeeded, in those who are not much
accustomed to their use, by a flushing of the countenance, and a copious
discharge of tears. They are strongly diuretic.
Persons who indulge too much in spirits rarely get corpulent, unless
their indulgence be coupled with good living. Their bodies become
emaciated; they get spindle-shanked; their eyes are glazed and hollow;
their cheeks fall in; and a premature old age overtakes them. They do
not eat so well as their brother drunkards. An insatiable desire for a
morning dram makes them early risers, and their breakfast amounts to
almost nothing.
The principal varieties of spirits, as already mentioned, are rum,
brandy, whisky, and gin. It is needless to enter into any detail of the
history of these fluids. Brandy kills soonest; it takes most rapidly
to the head, and, more readily than the others, tinges the face to a
crimson or livid hue. Rum is probably the next in point of fatality; and,
after that, whisky and gin. The superior diuretic qualities of the two
latter, and the less luscious sources from which they are procured, may
possibly account for such differences. I am, at the same time, aware that
some persons entertain a different idea of the relative danger of these
liquors: some, for instance, conceive that gin is more rapidly fatal than
any of them; but it is to be remembered, that it, more than any other
ardent spirit, is liable to adulteration. That, from this circumstance,
more lives may be lost by its use, I do not deny. In speaking of gin,
however, and comparing its effects with those of the rest of the class
to which it belongs, I must be understood to speak of it in its pure
condition, and not in that detestable state of sophistication in which
such vast quantities of it are drunk in London and elsewhere. When pure,
I have no hesitation in affirming that it is decidedly more wholesome
than either brandy or rum; and that the popular belief of its greater
tendency to produce dropsy, is quite unfounded.
An experiment has lately been made for the purpose of ascertaining the
comparative powers of gin, brandy, and rum, upon the human body, which
is not less remarkable for the inconsequent conclusions deduced from it,
than for the ignorance it displays in confounding dead animal matter with
the living fibre. It was made as follows:—
A piece of raw liver was put into a glass of gin, another into a glass
of rum, and a third into a glass of brandy. That in the gin was, in a
given time, partially decomposed; that in the rum, in the same time, not
diminished; and that in the brandy quite dissolved. It was concluded from
these results, that rum was the most wholesome spirit of the three, and
brandy the least. The inferences deduced from these premises are not only
erroneous, but glaringly absurd; the premises would even afford grounds
for drawing results of the very opposite nature: it might be said, for
instance, that though brandy be capable of dissolving dead animal matter,
there is no evidence that it can do the same to the living stomach, and
that it would in reality prove less hurtful than the others, in so far
as it would, more effectually than they, dissolve the food contained in
that organ. These experiments, in fact, prove nothing; and could only
have been suggested by one completely ignorant of the functions of the
animal economy. There is a power inherent in the vital principle which
resists the laws that operate upon dead matter. This is known to every
practitioner, and is the reason why the most plausible and recondite
speculations of chemistry have come to naught in their trials upon the
living frame. The only way to judge of the respective effects of ardent
spirits, is by experience and physiological reasoning, both of which
inform us that the spirit most powerfully diuretic must rank highest
in the scale of safety. Now and then persons are met with on whose
frames both gin and whisky have a much more heating effect than the two
other varieties of spirits. This, however, is not common, and when it
does occur, can only be referred to some unaccountable idiosyncrasy of
constitution.
II. _Modified by Wines._—Drunkenness from wines closely resembles that
from ardent spirits. It is equally airy and volatile, more especially if
the light wines, such as Champaign, Claret, Chambertin, or Volnay, be
drunk. On the former, a person may get tipsy several times of a night.
The fixed air evolved from it produces a feeling analogous to ebriety,
independent of the spirit it contains, Port, Sherry, and Madeira, are
heavier wines, and have a stronger tendency to excite headach and fever.
The wine-bibber has usually an ominous rotundity of face, and, not
unfrequently, of corporation. His nose is well studded over with
carbuncles of the Claret complexion; and the red of his cheeks resembles
very closely the hue of that wine. The drunkard from ardent spirits is
apt to be a poor, miserable, emaciated figure, broken in mind and in
fortune; but the votary of the juice of the grape may usually boast the
“paunch well lined with capon,” and calls to recollection the bluff
figure of Sir John Falstaff over his potations of Sack.[12]
III. _Modified by Malt Liquors._—Malt Liquors, under which title we
include all kinds of porter and ales, produce the worst species of
drunkenness; as, in addition to the intoxicating principle, some noxious
ingredients are usually added, for the purpose of preserving them and
giving them their bitter. The hop of these fluids is highly narcotic,
and brewers often add other substances, to heighten its effect, such as
hyoscyamus, opium, belladonna, cocculus Indicus, lauro cerasus, &c. Malt
liquors, therefore, act in two ways upon the body, partly by the alcohol
they contain, and partly by the narcotic principle. In addition to this,
the fermentation which they undergo is much less perfect than that of
spirits or wine. After being swallowed, this process is carried on in the
stomach, by which fixed air is copiously liberated, and the digestion of
delicate stomachs materially impaired. Cider, Spruce, ginger, and table
beers, in consequence of their imperfect fermentation, often produce the
same bad effects, long after their first briskness has vanished.
Persons addicted to malt liquors increase enormously in bulk. They become
loaded with fat: their chin gets double or triple, the eye prominent,
and the whole face bloated and stupid. Their circulation is clogged,
while the pulse feels like a cord, and is full and labouring, but not
quick. During sleep, the breathing is stertorous. Every thing indicates
an excess of blood; and when a pound or two is taken away, immense
relief is obtained. The blood, in such cases, is more dark and sizy than
in the others. In seven cases out of ten, malt-liquor drunkards die of
apoplexy or palsy. If they escape this hazard, swelled liver or dropsy
carries them off. The abdomen seldom loses its prominency, but the lower
extremities get ultimately emaciated. Profuse bleedings frequently ensue
from the nose, and save life, by emptying the blood-vessels of the brain.
The drunkenness in question is peculiarly of British growth. The most
noted examples of it are to be found in innkeepers and their wives,
recruiting sergeants, guards of stage-coaches, &c. The quantity of malt
liquors which such persons will consume in a day is prodigious. Seven
English pints is quite a common allowance, and not unfrequently twice
that quantity is taken without any perceptible effect. Many of the
coal-heavers on the Thames think nothing of drinking daily two gallons of
porter, especially in the summer season, when they labour under profuse
perspirations. A friend has informed me that he knew an instance of one
of them having consumed eighteen pints in one day, and he states that
there are many such instances.[13]
The effects of malt liquors on the body, if not so immediately rapid as
those of ardent spirits, are more stupifying, more lasting, and less
easily removed. The last are particularly prone to produce levity and
mirth, but the first have a stunning influence upon the brain, and, in a
short time, render dull and sluggish the gayest disposition. They also
produce sickness and vomiting more readily than either spirits or wine.
Both wine and malt liquors have a greater tendency to swell the body than
ardent spirits. They form blood with greater rapidity, and are altogether
more nourishing. The most dreadful effects, upon the whole, are brought
on by spirits, but drunkenness from malt liquors is the most speedily
fatal. The former break down the body by degrees; the latter operate by
some instantaneous apoplexy or rapid inflammation.
No one has ever given the respective characters of the malt-liquor and
ardent-spirit drunkard with greater truth than Hogarth, in his Beer Alley
and Gin Lane. The first is represented as plump, rubicund, and bloated;
the second as pale, tottering, and emaciated, and dashed over with the
aspect of blank despair.
IV. _Modified by Opium._—The drunkenness produced by opium has also some
characteristics which it is necessary to mention. The drug is principally
employed by the Mahometans. By their religion, these people are forbidden
the use of wine,[14] and use opium as a substitute. And a delightful
substitute it is while the first excitation continues; for the images it
occasions in the mind are more exquisite than any produced even by wine.
There is reason to believe that the use of this medicine has, of late
years, gained ground in Great Britain. We are told by the “English
Opium-Eater,” whose powerful and interesting “Confessions” have excited
so deep an interest, that the practice exists among the work people at
Manchester. Many of our fashionable ladies have recourse to it when
troubled with vapours, or low spirits: some of them even carry it about
with them for the purpose. This practice is most pernicious, and no way
different from that of drunkards, who swallow wine and other liquors to
drive away care. While the first effects continue, the intended purpose
is sufficiently gained, but the melancholy which follows is infinitely
greater than can be compensated by the previous exhilaration.
Opium acts differently on different constitutions. While it disposes
some to calm, it arouses others to fury. Whatever passion predominates
at the time, it increases; whether it be love, or hatred, or revenge, or
benevolence. Lord Kaimes, in his Sketches of Man, speaks of the fanatical
Faquirs, who, when excited by this drug, have been known with poisoned
daggers, to assail and butcher every European whom they could overcome.
In the century before last, one of this nation attacked a body of Dutch
sailors, and murdered seventeen of them in one minute. The Malays are
strongly addicted to opium. When violently aroused by it, they sometimes
perform what is called _Running-a-Muck_, which consists in rushing out in
a state of phrensied excitement, heightened by fanaticism, and murdering
every one who comes in their way. The Turkish commanders are well aware
of the powers of this drug in inspiring an artificial courage; and
frequently give it to their men when they put them on any enterprise of
great danger.
Some minds are rendered melancholy by opium. Its usual effect, however,
is to give rise to lively and happy sensations. The late Duchess of
Gordon is said to have used it freely, previous to appearing in great
parties, where she wished to shine by the gaiety of her conversation and
brilliancy of her wit. A celebrated pleader at the Scotch bar is reported
to do the same thing, and always with a happy effect.
In this country opium is much used, but seldom with the view of producing
intoxication. Some, indeed, deny that it can do so, strictly speaking.
If by intoxication is meant a state precisely similar to that from
over-indulgence in vinous or spirituous liquors, they are undoubtedly
right; but drunkenness merits a wider latitude of signification. The
ecstasies of opium are much more entrancing than those of wine. There
is more poetry in its visions—more mental aggrandizement—more range of
imagination. Wine, in common with it, invigorates the animal powers and
propensities, but opium, in a more peculiar manner, strengthens those
proper to man, and gives, for a period amounting to hours, a higher
tone to the intellectual faculties. It inspires the mind with a thousand
delightful images, lifts the soul from earth, and casts a halo of poetic
thought and feeling over the spirits of the most unimaginative. Under
its influence, the mind wears no longer that blank passionless aspect
which, even in gifted natures, it is apt to assume. On the contrary, it
is clothed with beauty “as with a garment,” and colours every thought
that passes through it with the hues of wonder and romance. Such are the
feelings which the luxurious and opulent Mussulman seeks to enjoy. To
stir up the languid current of his mind, satiated with excess of pleasure
and rendered sluggish by indolence, he has recourse to that remedy which
his own genial climate produces in greatest perfection. Seated perhaps
amid the luxuries of Oriental splendour—with fountains bubbling around,
and the citron shading him with its canopy, and scattering perfume on all
sides—he lets loose the reins of an imagination conversant from infancy
with every thing gorgeous and magnificent. The veil which shades the
world of fancy is withdrawn, and the wonders lying behind it exposed
to view; he sees palaces and temples in the clouds; or the Paradise of
Mahomet, with its houris and bowers of amaranth, may stand revealed to
his excited senses. Every thing is steeped in poetic exaggeration. The
zephyrs seem converted into aërial music, the trees bear golden fruit,
the rose blushes with unaccustomed beauty and perfume. Earth, in a word,
is brought nearer to the sky, and becomes one vast Eden of pleasure. Such
are the first effects of opium; but in proportion as they are great, so
is the depression which succeeds them. Languor and exhaustion invariably
come after; to remove which, the drug is again had recourse to, and
becomes almost an essential of existence.
Opium retains at all times its power of exciting the imagination,
provided sufficient doses are taken. But when it has been continued so
long as to bring disease upon the constitution, the pleasurable feelings
wear away, and are succeeded by others of a very different kind. Instead
of disposing the mind to be happy, it now acts upon it like the spell of
a demon, and calls up phantoms of horror and disgust. The fancy is still
as powerful as ever, but it is turned in another direction. Formerly it
clothed all objects with the light of heaven; now it invests them with
the attributes of hell. Goblins, spectres, and every kind of distempered
vision haunt the mind, peopling it with dreary and revolting imagery.
The sleep is no longer cheered with its former sights of happiness.
Frightful dreams usurp their place, till, at last, the person becomes
the victim of an almost perpetual misery.[15] Nor is this confined to
the mind alone, for the body suffers in an equal degree. Emaciation,
loss of appetite, sickness, vomiting, and a total disorganization of the
digestive functions, as well as of the mental powers, are sure to ensue,
and never fail to terminate in death, if the evil habit which brings them
on is continued.
Opium resembles the other agents of intoxication in this, that the
fondness for it increases with use, and that at last, it becomes nearly
essential for bodily comfort and peace of mind. The quantity which may
be taken varies exceedingly, and depends wholly upon age, constitution,
and habit. A single drop of laudanum has been known to kill a newborn
child; and four grains of solid opium have destroyed an adult. Certain
diseases, such as fevers, phrensies, &c., facilitate the action of opium
upon the system; others, such as diarrhœa, cramp, &c., resist it; and
a quantity which would destroy life in the former, would have little
perceptible effect in the latter. By habit, enormous quantities of the
drug may be taken with comparative impunity. There are many persons in
this country who make a practice of swallowing half an ounce of laudanum
night and morning, and some will even take from one to two drachms
daily of solid opium. The Teriakis, or opium-eaters of Constantinople,
will sometimes swallow a hundred grains at a single dose. Nay, it is
confidently affirmed that some of them will take at once three drachms in
the morning, and repeat the same dose at night, with no other effect than
a pleasing exhilaration of spirits. The “English Opium-Eater” himself
furnishes one of the most extraordinary instances on record of the power
of habit in bringing the body to withstand this drug. He took daily
_eight thousand drops_ of laudanum, containing _three hundred and twenty
grains_ of opium. This enormous quantity he reduced suddenly, and without
any considerable effort, to _one thousand drops_, or _forty grains_.
“Instantaneously,” says he, “and as if by magic, the cloud of profoundest
melancholy which rested upon my brain, like some black vapours which I
have seen roll away from the summits of the mountains, drew off in one
day—passed off with its murky banners, as simultaneously as a ship that
has been stranded, and is floated off by the spring-tide.”
The circumstance of the body being brought by degrees to withstand a
great quantity of opium is not solitary, but exists as a general rule
with regard to all stimulants and narcotics. A person who is in the habit
of drinking ale, wine, or spirits, will take much more with impunity than
one who is not; and the faculty of withstanding these agents goes on
strengthening till it acquires a certain point, after which it becomes
weakened. When this takes place, there is either organic disease or
general debility. A confirmed drunkard, whose constitution has suffered
from indulgence, cannot take so much liquor, without feeling it, as one
who is in the habit of taking his glass, but whose strength is yet
unimpaired. It is, I suspect, the same, though probably in a less degree,
with regard to opium.
Mithridates, king of Pontus, affords an instance of the effects of habit
in enabling the body to withstand poisons; and on the same principle, we
find that physicians and nurses who are much exposed to infection, are
less liable to take it than those persons whose frames are not similarly
fortified.
Opium resembles wine, spirit, and ales, in affecting the brain and
disposing to apoplexy. Taken in an overdose, it is fatal in from six
to twenty-four hours, according to the quantity swallowed, and the
constitution, habits, &c., of the person submitted to its operation. The
following are the principal symptoms of poisoning from opium. Giddiness
succeeded by stupor; insensibility to light, while the eyes are closed,
and the pupil immoveable, and sometimes dilated. The pulse is generally
small and feeble, but, occasionally, slow and full, as in common
apoplexy. The breathing at first is scarcely perceptible, but is apt to
become stertorous. Foam sometimes issues from the mouth: in other cases
there is vomiting. The countenance is cadaverous and pale or livid. A
narcotic odour is often perceptible in the breath. The skin is cold, and
the body exceedingly relaxed; now and then it is convulsed. By being
struck, shaken, or excited any way, the person sometimes recovers for
a short period from his stupor, and stares wildly around him, but only
to relapse into lethargy. At last death ensues, but shortly before this
event, a deceitful show of animation occasionally makes its appearance,
and may impose upon superficial observers.
I extract the following interesting case of opium-eating from a London
paper:—
“An inquest was held at Walpole lately, on the body of Rebecca Eason,
aged five years, who had been diseased from her birth, was unable to walk
or articulate, and from her size did not appear to be more than _five
weeks_ old. The mother had for many years been in the habit of taking
opium in large quantities, (nearly a quarter of an ounce a-day;[16])
and, it is supposed, had entailed a disease on her child which caused
its death; it was reduced to a mere skeleton, and had been in that state
from birth. Verdict; ‘Died by the visitation of God; but from the great
quantity of opium taken by the mother during her pregnancy of the said
child, and of suckling it, she had greatly injured its health.’ It
appeared that the mother of the deceased had had five children; that
she began to take opium after the birth and weaning of her first child,
which was and is remarkably healthy; and that the other children have
all lingered and died in the same emaciated state as the child who was
the subject of this investigation. The mother is under thirty: she
was severely censured by the coroner for indulging in so pernicious a
practice.”
V. _Modified by Tobacco._—A variety of drunkenness is excited by
tobacco. This luxury was introduced into Europe from the New World, in
1559, by a Spanish gentleman, named Hernandez de Toledo, who brought a
small quantity into Spain and Portugal. From thence, by the agency of
the French ambassador at Lisbon, it found its way to Paris, where it
was used in the form of powder by Catherine de Medicis, the abandoned
instigator of the massacre of the Protestants on St. Bartholomew’s day.
This woman, therefore, may be considered the inventor of snuff, as
well as the contriver of that most atrocious transaction. It then came
under the patronage of the Cardinal Santa Crocé, the Pope’s nuncio,
who returning from his embassy at the Spanish and Portuguese courts,
carried the plant to his own country, and thus acquired a fame little
inferior to that which, at another period, he had won by piously bringing
a portion of the _real_ cross from the Holy Land. It was received with
general enthusiasm in the Papal States, and hardly less favourably in
England, into which it was introduced by Sir Walter Raleigh, in 1585. It
was not, however, without opposition that it gained a footing either in
this country or in the rest of Europe. Its principal opponents were the
priests, the physicians, and the sovereign princes: by the former, its
use was declared sinful; and in 1624, Pope Urban VIII. published a bull,
excommunicating all persons found guilty of taking snuff when in church.
This bull was renewed in 1690 by Pope Innocent; and about twenty-nine
years afterwards, the Sultan Amurath IV. made smoking a capital offence,
on the ground of its producing infertility. For a long time smoking was
forbidden in Russia, under the pain of having the nose cut off: and in
some parts of Switzerland, it was likewise made a subject of public
prosecution—the public regulations of the Canton of Berne, in 1661,
placing the prohibition of smoking in the list of the ten commandments,
immediately under that against adultery. Nay, that British Solomon, James
I., did not think it beneath the royal dignity to take up his pen upon
the subject. He accordingly, in 1603, published his famous “Counterblaste
to Tobacco,” in which the following remarkable passage occurs:—“It is a
custom loathesome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the braine,
dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fume thereof, nearest
resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.”[17]
But notwithstanding this regal and sacerdotal wrath, the plant extended
itself far and wide, and is at this moment the most universal luxury in
existence.
The effects of tobacco are considerably different from those of any
other inebriating agent. Instead of quickening, it lowers the pulse,
and, when used to excess, produces languor, depression of the system,
giddiness, confusion of ideas, violent pain in the stomach, vomiting,
convulsions, and even death. Its essential oil is so intensely powerful,
that two or three drops inserted into a raw wound, would prove almost
instantly fatal.[18] Mr. Barrow, in his travels, speaks of the use made
by the Hottentots of this plant, for the purpose of destroying snakes.
“A Hottentot,” says he, “applied some of it from the short end of his
wooden tobacco pipe to the mouth of a snake while darting out his
tongue. The effect was as instantaneous as an electric shock; with a
convulsive motion that was momentary, the snake half untwisted itself,
and never stirred more; and the muscles were so contracted, that the
whole animal felt hard and rigid, as if dried in the sun.” When used in
moderation, tobacco has a soothing effect upon the mind, disposing to
placid enjoyment, and mellowing every passion into repose. Its effects,
therefore, are inebriating; and those who habitually indulge in it may
with propriety be denominated drunkards. In whatever form it is used,
it produces sickness, stupor, bewilderment, and staggering in those
unaccustomed to its use. There is no form in which it can be taken that
is not decidedly injurious and disgusting. The whole, from snuffing to
plugging, are at once so utterly uncleanly and unnatural, that it is
incredible in what manner they ever insinuated themselves into civilized
society. A vast quantity of valuable time is wasted by the votaries
of tobacco, especially by the smokers; and that the devotees of snuff
are not greatly behind in this respect, will be shown by the following
singular calculation of Lord Stanhope:—
“Every professed, inveterate, and incurable snuff-taker,” says his
Lordship, “at a moderate computation, takes one pinch in ten minutes.
Every pinch, with the agreeable ceremony of blowing and wiping the
nose, and other incidental circumstances, consumes a minute and a half.
One minute and a half out of every ten, allowing sixteen hours to a
snuff-taking day, amounts to two hours and twenty-four minutes out of
every natural day, or one day out of ten. One day out of every ten,
amounts to thirty-six days and a half in a year. Hence, if we suppose
the practice to be persisted in forty years, two entire years of the
snuff-taker’s life will be dedicated to tickling his nose, and two more
to blowing it. The expense of snuff, snuff-boxes, and handkerchiefs will
be the subject of a second essay, in which it will appear that this
luxury encroaches as much on the income of the snuff-taker as it does
on his time; and that by proper application of the time and money thus
lost to the public, a fund might be constituted for the discharge of the
national debt.”
But this is not the worst of snuffing, for though a moderate quantity
taken now and then, may do no harm, yet, in the extent to which habitual
snuffers carry it, it is positively pernicious. The membrane which lines
the nose gets thickened, the olfactory nerves blunted, and the sense
of smell consequently impaired. Not is this all, for, by the strong
inspirations which are made when the powder is drawn up, some of the
latter is pretty sure to escape into the stomach. This organ is thence
directly subjected to a powerful medicine, which not only acts as a
narcotic but produces heartburn, and every other symptom of indigestion.
It is generally believed that Napoleon owed his death to the morbid
state of his stomach produced by excessive snuffing. Snuffing has also a
strong tendency to give a determination to the head, and on this account
plethoric subjects should be the very last ever to enter upon the habit.
If it were attended with no other inconvenience, the black loathsome
discharge from the nose, and swelling and rubicundity of this organ, with
other circumstances equally disagreeable, ought to deter every man from
becoming a snuffer.
The smoker while engaged at _his_ occupation, is even a happier man than
the snuffer. An air of peculiar satisfaction beams upon his countenance;
and, as he puffs forth volumes of fragrance, he seems to dwell in an
atmosphere of contented happiness. His illusions have not the elevated
and magnificent character of those brought on by opium or wine. There is
nothing of Raphael or Michael Angelo in their composition—nothing of the
Roman or Venetian schools—nothing of Milton’s sublimity, or Ariosto’s
dazzling romance; but there is something equally delightful, and in its
way, equally perfect. His visions stand in the same relation to those
of opium or wine, as the Dutch pictures of Ostade to the Italian ones
of Paul Veronese—as Washington Irving to Lord Byron—or as Izaak Walton
to Froissart. There is an air of delightful homeliness about them. He
does not let his imagination run riot in the clouds, but restrains it
to the lower sphere of earth, and meditates delightfully in this less
elevated region. If his fancy be unusually brilliant, or somewhat heated
by previous drinking, he may see thousands of strange forms floating
in the tobacco smoke. He may people it, according to his temperament,
with agreeable or revolting images—with flowers and gems springing up,
as in dreams, before him—or with reptiles, serpents, and the whole host
of _diablerie_, skimming, like motes in the sunshine, amid its curling
wreaths.
This is all that can be said in favour of smoking, and quite enough to
render the habit too common to leave any hope of its suppression, either
by the weapons of ridicule, or the more summary plan of the Sultan
Amurath. In no sense, except as affording a temporary gratification,
can it be justified or defended. It pollutes the breath, blackens the
teeth, wastes the saliva which is required for digestion, and injures
the complexion. In addition to this, it is apt to produce dyspepsia, and
other disorders of the stomach; and, in corpulent subjects, it disposes
to apoplexy. At the present moment, smoking is fashionable, and crowds
of young men are to be seen at all hours walking the streets with cigars
in their mouths, annoying the passengers. They seem to consider it manly
to be able to smoke a certain number, without reflecting that there is
scarcely an old woman in the country who would not beat them to naught
with their own weapons, and that they would gain no sort of honour were
they able to outsmoke all the burgomasters of Amsterdam. As the practice,
however, seems more resorted to by these young gentlemen for the sake of
effect, and of exhibiting a little of the _haut ton_, than for any thing
else, it is likely soon to die a natural death among them; particularly
as jockeys and porters have lately taken the field in the same way, being
determined that no class of the community shall enjoy the exclusive
monopoly of street smoking.
The observations made upon the effects of snuffing and smoking, apply in
a still stronger degree to chewing. This is the worst way for the health
in which tobacco can be used. The waste of saliva is greater than even
in smoking, and the derangements of the digestive organs proportionably
severe. All confirmed chewers are more than usually subject to dyspepsia
and hypochondriasis; and many of them are afflicted with liver complaint,
brought on by their imprudent habit.
The most innocent, and, at the same time, most disgusting way of using
tobacco, is plugging, which consists in inserting a short roll of the
plant in the nostril and allowing it to remain there so long as the
person feels disposed. Fortunately this habit is as rare as it is
abominable; and it is to be hoped that it will never become common in
Great Britain.
I have observed, that persons who are much addicted to liquor have an
inordinate liking to tobacco in all its different forms: and it is
remarkable that in the early stages of ebriety almost every man is
desirous of having a pinch of snuff. This last fact it is not easy to
explain, but the former may be accounted for by that incessant craving
after excitement which clings to the system of the confirmed drunkard.
From several of the foregoing circumstances, we are justified in
considering tobacco closely allied to intoxicating liquors, and its
confirmed votaries as a species of drunkards. At least, it is certain
that, when used to excess, it gives birth to many of the corporeal and
mental manifestations of ebriety.
VI. _Modified by Nitrous Oxide._—The drunkenness, if it merit that name,
from inhaling nitrous oxide, is likewise of a character widely differing
from intoxication in general. This gas was discovered by Dr. Priestley,
but its peculiar effects upon the human body were first perceived in
1799, by Sir Humphry Davy, who, in the following year, published a very
elaborate account of its nature and properties, interspersed with details
by some of the most eminent literary and scientific characters, of the
sensations they experienced on receiving it into their lungs.
According to these statements, on breathing the gas the pulse is
accelerated, and a feeling of heat and expansion pervades the chest.
The most vivid and highly pleasurable ideas pass, at the same time,
through the mind; and the imagination is exalted to a pitch of entrancing
ecstasy. The hearing is rendered more acute, the face is flushed, and the
body seems so light that the person conceives himself capable of rising
up and mounting into the air. Some assume theatrical attitudes; others
laugh immoderately, and stamp upon the ground. There is an universal
increase of muscular power, attended with the most exquisite delight. In
a few cases there are melancholy, giddiness, and indistinct vision; but
generally the feelings are those of perfect pleasure. After these strange
effects have ceased, no debility ensues, like that which commonly follows
high excitement. On the contrary, the mind is strong and collected, and
the body unusually vigorous for some hours after the operation.
At the time of the discovery of the effects of nitrous oxide, strong
hopes were excited that it might prove useful in various diseases. These,
unfortunately, have not been realized. Even the alleged properties
of the gas have now fallen into some discredit. That it has produced
remarkable effects cannot be denied, but there is much reason for
thinking, that in many cases, these were in a great measure brought about
by the influence of imagination. Philosophers seem to be divided on this
point, and their conflicting testimonies it is not easy to reconcile.
Having tried the experiment of inhaling the gas myself, and having seen
it tried upon others, I have no doubt that there is much truth in the
reports originally published of its properties, although in many cases,
imagination has made these appear greater than they really are. The
intoxication which it produces is entirely one _sui generis_, and differs
so much from that produced by other agents, that it can hardly be looked
upon as the same thing.
The effects of nitrous oxide upon myself, though considerable, were not
so striking as I have seen upon others. The principal feelings produced,
were giddiness and violent beating in the head, such as occur in the acmé
of drunkenness. There was also a strong propensity to laugh: it occurs
to me, however, that in my own case, and probably in some others, the
risible tendency might be controlled by a strong effort of volition,
in the same way as in most cases of drunkenness, were the effort
imperatively requisite. Altogether I experienced nearly the sensations
of highly excited ebriety. There was the same seeming lightness and
expansion of the head, the same mirthfulness of spirit, and the same
inordinate propensity to do foolish things, knowing them to be foolish,
as occur in drunkenness in general. I was perfectly aware what I was
about, and could, I am persuaded, with some effort, have subjected the
whimsies of fancy to the soberer dictates of judgment. In a word, the
gas produced precisely a temporary paroxysm of drunkenness, and such a
determination of blood upwards as rendered the complexion livid, and
left behind some degree of headach. Such are the effects upon myself,
but with most people, there is a total unconsciousness of the part they
are acting. They perform the most extravagant pranks, and on recovering
their self-possession are totally ignorant of the circumstance. Sometimes
the gas has an opposite effect, and the person instantly drops down
insensible, as if struck by lightning: he recovers, however, immediately.
Those who wish to know more of this curious subject, should read Sir H.
Davy’s work; but, above all, they should try the gas upon themselves.
In the meantime I shall lay before the reader the details, in their own
words, of the sensations experienced by Messrs. Edgeworth and Coleridge,
and by Dr. Kinglake.
Mr. EDGEWORTH’S CASE.—“My first sensation was an universal and
considerable tremor. I then perceived some giddiness in my
head, and a violent dizziness in my sight; these sensations
by degrees subsided, and I felt a great propensity to bite
through the wooden mouth-piece, or the tube of the bag through
which I inspired the air. After I had breathed all the air
that was in the bag, I eagerly wished for more. I then felt
a strong propensity to laugh, and did burst into a violent
fit of laughter, and capered about the room without having
the power of restraining myself. By degrees, these feelings
subsided, except the tremor, which lasted for an hour after
I had breathed the air, and I felt a weakness in my knees.
The principal feeling through the whole of the time, or what
I should call the characteristical part of the effect, was a
total difficulty of restraining my feelings, both corporeal and
mental, or, in other words, not having any command of myself.”
* * * * *
Mr. COLERIDGE’S CASE.—“The first time I inspired the nitrous
oxide, I felt an highly pleasurable sensation of warmth over
my whole frame, resembling that which I once remember to have
experienced after returning from a walk in the snow into a
warm room. The only motion which I felt inclined to make, was
that of laughing at those who were looking at me. My eyes felt
distended, and, towards the last, my heart beat as if it were
leaping up and down. On removing the mouth-piece, the whole
sensation went off almost instantly.
“The second time, I felt the same pleasurable sensation of
warmth, but not, I think, in quite so great a degree. I wished
to know what effect it would have on my impressions: I fixed my
eye on some trees in the distance, but I did not find any other
effect, except that they became dimmer and dimmer, and looked
at last as if I had seen them through tears. My heart beat more
violently than the first time. This was after a hearty dinner.
“The third time, I was more violently acted on than in the
two former. Towards the last, I could not avoid, nor indeed
felt any wish to avoid, beating the ground with my feet; and,
after the mouth-piece was removed, I remained for a few seconds
motionless, in great ecstasy.
“The fourth time was immediately after breakfast. The first few
inspirations affected me so little, that I thought Mr. Davy had
given me atmospheric air; but soon felt the warmth beginning
about my chest, and spreading upward and downward, so that I
could feel its progress over my whole frame. My heart did not
beat so violently; my sensations were highly pleasurable, not
so intense or apparently local, but of more unmingled pleasure
than I had ever before experienced.”
* * * * *
Dr. KINGLAKE’S CASE.—“My first inspiration of it was limited
to four quarts, diluted with an equal quantity of atmospheric
air. After a few inspirations, a sense of additional freedom
and power (call it energy, if you please) agreeably pervaded
the region of the lungs; this was quickly succeeded by an
almost delirious but highly pleasurable sensation in the brain,
which was soon diffused over the whole frame, imparting to
the muscular power at once an increased disposition and tone
for action; but the mental effect of the excitement was such
as to absorb in a sort of intoxicating placidity and delight,
volition, or rather the power of voluntary motion. These
effects were in a greater or less degree protracted during
about five minutes, when the former state returned, with the
difference however of feeling more cheerful and alert, for
several hours after.
“It seemed also to have had the further effect of reviving
rheumatic irritations in the shoulder and knee-joints, which
had not been previously felt for many months. No perceptible
change was induced in the pulse, either at or subsequent to the
time of inhaling the gas.
“The effects produced by a second trial of its powers, were
more extensive, and concentrated on the brain. In this
instance, nearly six quarts undiluted, were accurately and
fully inhaled. As on the former occasion, it immediately
proved agreeably respirable, but before the whole quantity
was quite exhausted, its agency was exerted so strongly on
the brain, as progressively to suspend the senses of seeing,
hearing, feeling, and ultimately the power of volition itself.
At this period, the pulse was much augmented both in force
and frequency; slight convulsive twitches of the muscles of
the arms were also induced; no painful sensation, nausea, or
languor, however, either preceded, accompanied, or followed
this state, nor did a minute elapse before the brain rallied,
and resumed its wonted faculties, when a sense of glowing
warmth extending over the system, was speedily succeeded by a
re-instatement of the equilibrium of health.
“The more permanent effects were (as in the first experiment)
an invigorated feel of vital power, improved spirits,
transient irritations in different parts, but not so
characteristically rheumatic as in the former instance.
“Among the circumstances most worthy of regard in considering
the properties and administration of this powerful aërial
agent, may be ranked, the fact of its being, contrary to the
prevailing opinion, both highly respirable, and salutary;
that it impresses the brain and system at large with a more
or less strong and durable degree of pleasurable sensation;
that, unlike the effect of other violently exciting agents,
no sensible exhaustion or diminution of vital power accrues
from the exertions of its stimulant property; that its
most excessive operation even, is neither permanently nor
transiently debilitating; and finally, that it fairly promises,
under judicious application, to prove an extremely efficient
remedy, as well in the vast tribe of diseases originating from
deficient irritability and sensibility, as in those proceeding
from morbid associations, and modifications of those vital
principles.”[19]