DRUNKENNESS.

At all periods this degrading vice appears to have been more or less

prevalent. We find it frequently mentioned in the early history of the

Jews. Tacitus informs us that it was common amongst the ancient Germans;

and in Greece and Rome it was not only common, but frequently extolled as

beneficial--as medicinal:

Si nocturna tibi noceat potatio vini,

Hora matutina rebibas, et erit medicina.

Socrates considered the indulgence in wine pardonable. Thus, C. Gallus:

Hoc quoque virtutem quondam certamine, magnum

Socratem palmam promeruisse ferunt.

According to Horace, Cato the Censor had often recourse to its

exhilarating virtues:

Narratur et prisci Catonis

Saepe mero incaluisse virtus.

Seneca informs us that even the Roman ladies frequently indulged in these

potations. The drunkenness of the ancients bore all the disgusting

character of the present day, and was thus admirably described by

Lucretius:

Cum vini penetravit--

Consequitur gravitas membrorum, praepediuntur

Crura vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens,

Nant oculi; clamor, singultus, jurgia gliscunt.

However, from the language of the ancients, we cannot come to the

conclusion that Socrates, and other great men who were accused of

inebriety, were habitual drunkards, or even that, under the influence of

their potations, they were occasionally deprived of their reason. On the

contrary, there is every reason to believe that the ancients both ate and

drank a great deal during their repasts; and thus mingling their wine and

their food, like most of the continental nations, they were less subject

to the inconveniences that arose from their indulgence in liquor. Indeed,

the term sobriety applies to a proper regulation of our ingesta, according

to our constitution and our state of health. Extreme abstinence on some

occasions may prove as prejudicial as intemperance; and there are peculiar

idiosyncrasies where a certain quantity of stimulus is absolutely

requisite to keep up the animal spirits, and at the same time assist

assimilations which become languid under mental depression. No doubt, this

necessity has arisen from habit,--most probably a very bad habit; still,

when it does exist, physicians should be cautious in suddenly forbidding

customary indulgences: we must also consider on such occasions the

pursuits of different individuals. The laborious classes, who require more

frequent refection, from the constant exhaustion to which their avocations

expose them, can bear with impunity a moderate use of strong liquors. Such

a practice would destroy the sedentary and the studious. Temperance is

essentially requisite to perfect not only our intellectual faculties, but

many of our physical functions. The senses both of man and the brute

creation are rendered much more keen by abstinence. The scent of the dog,

the vision of the hawk, are less acute after feeding; and this is one of

the chief causes of the greater perspicuity in our ideas when fasting in

the morning. The ancients had an axiom founded upon observation, "_if you

wish to become robust, eat and labour; if you wish to become wise, fast

and meditate_." The Greeks called sobriety, [Greek: sophrosune]; or,

according to Aristotle, as though they said, [Greek: sozousan ten

phronesin], it assisted our intellectuals. Plato tells us that Socrates

termed this quality [Greek: soterian tes psroneseos], or the health of the

mind. Xenophon maintained that it prevented men from spitting or blowing

their noses, as we were not in need of superfluities when we decreased the

consumption of what was necessary. The ancients looked upon sobriety as a

bent bow, that required occasional relaxation.

It is said, but I know not on what authority, that Hippocrates recommended

an indulgence in potations once a month. Celsus recommends persons in

perfect health not to be too rigorous in their diet; sometimes to fast,

and at others to live more freely. In more modern times this supposed

precept of Hippocrates has been advocated, and we find two theses on the

subject, entitled "_Non ergo singulis mensibus repetita ebrietas

salubris_," and "_Non ergo unquam ebrietas salubris_," by Hammet and

Langlois. Zacchias, in his medical questions, asks if a physician can

recommend such a departure from the laws of temperance without committing

a sin. This query has been also debated by divines. Frederick Hoffmann

maintained that poets required this indulgence, and attributes in a great

measure the falling off of genius amongst the modern Greeks to the

destruction of their vineyards by the Turks. In ancient Iconography we

oftentimes find Bacchus placed near Minerva. The allusions of Heathen

mythology to drunkenness, its effects, and the means of tempering its

influence, are curious. Silenus, the preceptor of Bacchus, although

represented as always intoxicated, was a philosopher, who accompanied his

pupil in his Indian expedition, and aided him by the soundness of his

judgment. Virgil makes him deliver the principles of the epicurean

doctrines on the formation of the world, and the nature of things. Aelian

gives us his conversation with Midas regarding the unknown world of Plato

and other philosophers. He was also considered an able warrior and a wit.

Aelian derives his name from _Sillainein_. The nymphs who follow his train

were considered as typical of the water necessary to dilute his potations,

and the influence of love in checking intemperance.

Montaigne informs us that the celebrated Sylvius recommended an occasional

debauch; and the late Dr. Gregory was of opinion than an occasional excess

is, upon the whole, less injurious to the constitution than the practice

of daily taking a moderate quantity of any fermented liquor or spirit.

Experience, however, does not uphold the doctor's opinion; and, as I have

observed in a preceding article, occasional excesses are far more

injurious than habitual indulgences, under which, in the most

unfavourable climates, men attain advanced years. An occasional excess

actually brings on a state of sickness, which, in persons habitually

sober, may not only last for several days, incapacitating them from any

pursuit, but be frequently followed by serious accidents. Of course I am

not alluding to a constant state of intoxication, which will often bring

on delirium, tremor, apoplexy, and other destructive accidents.

The appearances after death in drunkards exhibit great derangement in

organic structure. The brain is generally firmer than usual. Serum is not

unfrequently found effused in its cavities; and, what is singular, this

watery fluid is often impregnated with the odour of the deceased's

potations, such as rum, gin, or brandy. Schrader relates several instances

of the kind. Aether has also been detected after the medicine had been

freely exhibited. Dr. Ogston states that above four ounces of fluid were

found in the ventricles of a drunkard's brain, that had all the physical

qualities of alcohol. He thinks that this effusion takes place previously

to the coma of intoxication, as he found it in considerable quantities in

two cases of drowning in the stage of violent excitement from spirituous

liquors. The mucous coats of the stomachs of drunkards, instead of being

"worn out," according to the vulgar expression, are thickened, and

sometimes softened; but in most cases they are found hardened. This

condition is not likely to accelerate death; on the contrary, the stomach

is less susceptible of the action of stimulating articles of diet, or

excess in eating or drinking, than when in a healthy state of

excitability. When drunkenness proves fatal, it appears that a portion of

the spirituous part of the liquor is actually absorbed and carried into

the circulation and the brain. Dr. Copeland has given the following very

luminous and correct view of the pathology of drunkenness. "During the

general nervous and vascular excitement consequent on the stimulus,

increased determination to the head takes place, attended by excited

vascular action, which soon terminates in congestion as the excitement

becomes exhausted, and gives rise to drowsiness, sopor, and coma. With

this state of the disorder effusion of serum takes place in the ventricles

and between the membranes, heightening the sopor and coma. When the

congestion or effusion amounts so high as to impede the functions of the

organs at the basis of the encephalon and of the respiratory nerves,

respiration becomes unfrequent and laborious, and consequently the changes

produced by it on the blood insufficiently performed. In proportion as the

blood is less perfectly changed in the lungs, the circulation through them

is retarded, and the phenomena of asphyxy,--congestion of the lungs,

right side of the head, brain, and liver; the circulation of

unarterialized blood; the imperfect evolution of animal heat, and sedative

effects upon the brain and nervous system generally,--follow in a more or

less marked degree, according to the quantity of the intoxicating fluid

that has been taken, and either gradually disappear after some time, or

increase until life is extinguished. These phenomena are heightened by

cold, which depresses the vital action in the extremities and surface to

which it is applied, and increases the congestion in the above organs. The

fatal consequences of intoxication are often averted by the occurrence of

vomiting, the stomach thereby being relieved from a great part of the

poison."

Besides wine and spirituous liquors various other substances have been

employed to bring on this supposed pleasurable state. The Syrian rue

(_Peganum Harmala_), was constantly used by Sultan Solyman. The _Hibiscus

Saldarissa_ of the Indians, which furnishes their _bangne_, is supposed to

be the _Nepenthes_ of the ancients. The _Penang_ or Indian beetle, the

_Hyosciamus Niger_. The _Belladonna_, the _Cocculus Indicus_, are drugs

that have been resorted to by various nations. The last ingredient has

made the fortune of many of our wealthy brewers, at the expense of public

sobriety and health.

In the accidents that follow intoxication, bleeding has frequently been

resorted to. Nothing can be more hazardous than this practice, justly

condemned by Darwin, Trotter, and most physicians, who have had frequent

opportunities of witnessing the distressing train of symptoms that

inebriety brings on. Coffee and green tea will be found the most

efficacious antidotes, when no sickness prevails. Nausea is counteracted

by effervescent and aromatic draughts, such as soda-water, (so highly

appreciated by Byron, when accompanied by a sermon, after a night's

conviviality,) spruce-beer, Seidlitz powders, &c. The ancients had

recourse to various means to counteract the effects of wine, and amongst

others we find olives and olive oil, wormwood, and saffron. The Greeks

used a solution of salt, a common remedy among seafaring men to the

present day; and the Romans surrounded their heads with wreaths of various

refreshing plants. When Aristotle tells us that Dionysius of Syracuse

remained in a state of intoxication for eighty days, we must suppose that

he got drunk every morning.

That the ancients were in the habit of diluting their wine with water,

there cannot be a doubt. The Lacedaemonians accused those who drank it pure

of acting like Scythians,--an expression introduced ever since Cleomenes

the Spartan had learned to drink freely amongst them. The Thracians were

also accused of this practice, which clearly proves that it was not

general. Philochorus reports that Amphictyon, king of Athens, learned to

mix wine and water from Bacchus himself, on which account he dedicated an

altar to the god. According to Athenaeus, this dilution was of various

strength; sometimes in the proportion of one to two, at others of one to

five. The Lacedaemonians used to boil their wine till the fifth part was

consumed, under the impression that they thus deprived it of its

spirituous qualities. Sometimes this boiled wine was laid by for four

years.

To add to the intoxicating power of wine various means were resorted to,

and a mixture of myrrha was supposed to produce this effect. Such was the

_murrhina_ of the Romans, mentioned in St. Mark's gospel, and which was

given to malefactors before their execution.

Notwithstanding the sobriety of the ancients, my fair readers may perhaps

be glad to know that the ladies were allowed to indulge in an occasional

stoup; and the Greek matrons and virgins were by no means restricted in a

moderate use of the grape's delicious juice, as illustrated by Homer in

Nausica and her companions. In the ancient entertainments the first

libation was offered up to Vesta, as being, according to Cicero, _rerum

custos intimarum_, or keeper of things most concealed; or, according to

Aristocritus, for the services rendered by this goddess to Jupiter in his

war against the Giants. However, without any erudite comments, it is very

probable that even the poor Vestals were sometimes delighted when they

could take a drop of wine to beguile their solitude.

The phenomena of drunkenness have been so ably described by Macnish, that

I most gladly transcribe the following passage from that author's

excellent work, called the "Anatomy of Drunkenness."

"First an unusual serenity prevails over the mind, and the soul of the

votary is filled with a placid satisfaction. By degrees he is sensible of

a soft and not unmusical humming in the ears, at every pause of the

conversation. He seems, to himself, to wear his head lighter than usual

upon his shoulders. Then a species of obscurity, thinner than the finest

mist, passes before his eyes, and makes him see objects rather

indistinctly. The lights begin to dance and appear double, a gaiety and

warmth are felt at the same time about the heart. The imagination is

expanded, and filled with a thousand delightful images. He becomes

loquacious, and pours forth, in enthusiastic language, the thoughts, which

are born, as it were, within him.

"Now comes a spirit of universal contentment with himself and all the

world. He thinks no more of misery: it is dissolved in the bliss of the

moment. This is the acme of the fit--the ecstasy is now perfect. As yet

the sensorium is in tolerable order, it is only shaken, but the capability

of thinking with accuracy still remains. About this time the drunkard

pours out all the secrets of his soul. His qualities, good or bad, come

forth without reserve; and now, if at any time, the human heart may be

seen into. In a short period, he is seized with a most inordinate

propensity to talk nonsense, though he is perfectly conscious of doing so.

He also commits many foolish things, knowing them to be foolish. The power

of volition, that faculty which keeps the will subordinate to the

judgment, seems totally weakened. The most delightful time seems to be

that immediately before becoming very talkative. When this takes place a

man turns ridiculous, and his mirth, though more boisterous, is not so

exquisite. At first the intoxication partakes of sentiment, but, latterly,

it becomes merely animal.

"After this the scene thickens. The drunkard's imagination gets disordered

with the most grotesque conceptions. Instead of moderating his drink, he

pours it down more rapidly than ever, glass follows glass with reckless

energy. His head becomes perfectly giddy. The candles burn blue, or green,

or yellow, and when there are perhaps only three on the table, he sees a

dozen. According to his temperament, he is amorous, or musical, or

quarrelsome. Many possess a most extraordinary wit, and a great flow of

spirits is generally attendant. In the latter stages, the speech is thick

and the use of the tongue in a great measure lost. His mouth is half open,

and idiotic in the expression; while his eyes are glazed, wavering and

watery. He is apt to fancy that he has offended some one of the company,

and is ridiculously profuse in his apologies. Frequently he mistakes one

person for another, and imagines that some of those before him are

individuals who are in reality absent or even dead. The muscular powers

are all along much affected; this indeed happens before any great change

takes place in the mind and goes on progressively increasing. He can no

longer walk with steadiness, but totters from side to side. His limbs

become powerless and inadequate to sustain his weight. He is, however, not

always sensible of any deficiency in this respect, and while exciting

mirth by his eccentric motions, imagines that he walks with the most

perfect steadiness. In attempting to run, he conceives that he passes the

ground with astonishing rapidity. In his distorted eyes all men and even

inanimate nature itself, seem to be drunken, while he alone is sober.

Houses reel from side to side, as if they had lost their balance; trees

and steeples nod like tipsy bacchanals; and the very earth seems to slip

under his feet and leave him walking and floundering in the air.

"The last stage of drunkenness is total insensibility. The man tumbles,

perhaps, beneath the table, and is carried off in a state of stupor to his

couch _dead drunk_.

"No sooner is his head laid upon the pillow, than it is seized with the

strongest throbbing. His heart beats quick and hard against his ribs. A

noise like the distant fall of a cascade, or rushing of a river is heard

in his ears--rough--rough--rough--goes the sound. His senses now become

more drowned and stupified. A dim recollection of his carousals, like a

shadowy and indistinct dream, passes before the mind. He still hears, as

in echo, the cries and laughter of his companions. Wild fantastic fancies

accumulate thickly around the brain. His giddiness is greater than ever;

and he feels as if in a ship tossed upon a heaving sea. At last he drops

insensibly into a profound slumber.

"In the morning he awakes in a high fever. The whole body is parched; the

palms of the hands, in particular, are like leather. His head is often

violently painful. He feels excessive thirst; while his tongue is white,

dry, and stiff. The whole inside of the mouth is likewise hot and

constricted, and the throat often sore. Then look at his eyes--how sickly,

dull and languid! The fire which first lighted them up the evening before

is all gone. A stupor like that of the last stage of drunkenness still

clings about them, and they are disagreeably affected by the light. The

complexion sustains as great a change: it is no longer flushed with gaiety

and excitation, but pale and wayworn, indicating a profound mental and

bodily exhaustion. There is probably sickness, and the appetite is totally

gone.

"Even yet the delirium of intoxication has not left him, for his head

still rings, his heart still throbs violently, and if he attempt to get

up, he stumbles with giddiness. The mind also is sadly depressed, and the

proceedings of the previous night are painfully remembered. He is sorry

for his conduct, promises solemnly never again so to commit himself, and

calls impatiently for something to quench his thirst.

"Persons of tender and compassionate minds are particularly subject,

during intoxication, to be affected to tears at the sight of any

distressing object, or even on hearing an affecting tale. Drunkenness, in

most characters, may be said to melt the heart and open the fountain of

sorrow. Their sympathy is often ridiculous, and aroused by the most

trifling causes. Those who have a lively imagination, combined with this

tenderness of heart, sometimes conceive fictitious cases of distress, and

weep bitterly at the woes of their own creating.

"There are also some persons on whom drunkenness calls forth a spirit of

piety, or rather of religious hypocrisy, which is both ludicrous and

disgusting. They become sentimental over their cups, and while in a state

of debasement most offensive to God and man, they will weep at the

wickedness of the human heart, entreat you to eschew swearing and profane

company, and have a greater regard for the welfare of your immortal soul.

These sanctimonious drunkards seem to consider ebriety as the most venial

of offences!"

Inebriety has sometimes a curious effect upon the memory. Actions

committed during intoxication may be forgotten on a recovery from that

state.

Drunkenness differs materially according to the nature of the intoxicating

potation. Wine in general may be considered as less injurious, and its

effects more transient than spirituous liquors, that produce great

excitement, followed by indirect debility and visceral obstruction. The

inebriety produced by alcoholic preparations, moreover, is attended with a

delirious state, furious and uncontrollable, or followed by congestion and

torpor. Malt liquors render their victims heavy, stupid, and more

obstinate than violent, and a long continuance in their use produces a

state of imbecility, observed so early as Aristotle.

Similar differences are observable in the effects of different liquors on

the imagination. Wine most undoubtedly produces a greater vivacity of

ideas and a more brilliant scintillation of wit and fancy. Hoffmann,

indeed, considered the juice of the grape as indispensable to poetic

inspiration, and it is very doubtful whether Pegasus was ever benefited by

a draught of beer. But, alas! of what avail are the considerations

regarding the effects of the pernicious habit of drinking? When once

accustomed to the cheering stimulus of liquor, it matters not what the

drunkard takes, and if Champagne or Burgundy are not at hand, gin or rum

will prove a substitute, perhaps less grateful, but still not unwelcome.

Drinking becomes the only refuge from those cares which owe their very

origin to excesses, and they must be drowned in any bowl that can be

filled to drive away the blue devils.

Vina parant animos, faciuntque caloribus aptos,

Cura fugit, multo diluiturque mero:

Tunc veniunt risus, tunc pauper cornua sumit;

Tunc dolor et curae, rugaque frontis abit,

Tunc aperit mentis aevo, rarissima nostro

Simplicitas, artes excutiente Deo.