Apart from the pathological conditions of intoxication, especially the
great intolerance toward alcohol,[349] which are the proper subjects for
the physician, there is a large group of the stigmata of intoxication
which are so various that they require a more accurate study than usual
of their causes and effects. As a rule, people are satisfied to
determine the degree of intoxication by the answers to a few stereotyped
questions: Did the man wabble while walking? Was he able to run? Could
he talk coherently? Did he know his name? Did he recognize you? Did he
show great strength? An affirmative answer to these questions from two
witnesses has been enough to convict a man.[350]
As a rule, this conviction is justified, and it is proper to say that if
a person is still sufficiently in control of himself to do all these
things he must be considered capable of understanding the difference
between right and wrong. But this is not always the case. I do not say
that irrationality through drink must always obtain when the drunkard is
unable to remember what happened while he was drunk. His inability is
not determinative, because the circumstances following a deed have no
reflex effect. Even if after the deed a person is ignorant of what he
has done it is still possible that he was aware of its nature while
committing it, and this possibility is the determinative factor. But the
knowledge of what is being done does not in itself make the doer
responsible, for if the drunkard beats the policeman he knows that he is
fighting somebody; he could not do so without knowing it, and what
excuses him is the fact that while he was drunk, he was not aware that
he was fighting a policeman, that so far as he is capable of judgment at
all, he judges himself to be opposed to some illegal enemy, against whom
he must defend himself.
If it be said in opposition that a drunkard is not responsible if he
does, when drunk, what he would not do when sober, this again would be
an exaggeration. Why, is shown by the many insults, the many revelations
of secrets, the many new friendships of slight intoxication. These would
not have occurred if the drunkard had been sober, and yet nobody would
say that they had occurred during a state of irresponsibility.
Hence, we can say only that intoxication excuses when an action either
follows directly and solely as the reflex expression of an impulse, or
when the drunkard is so confused about the nature of his object that he
thinks himself justified in his conduct. Hence, the legal expressions
(e.g., “complete drunkenness” of Austrian criminal law, and
“unconsciousness” of the German imperial criminal statute book) will in
practice be pushed one degree higher up than ordinary usage intends. For
complete intoxication or drunkenness into loss of consciousness usually
means that condition in which the individual lies stiff on the ground.
But in this condition he can not do anything, and is incapable of
committing a crime. It must follow that the statutes could not have been
thinking of this, but of the condition in which the individual is still
active and able to commit crimes by the use of his limbs, but absolutely
without the control of those limbs.
If we compare innumerable stories that are told, with verbal
reliability, about drunkards, or those that are readable in daily
papers, police news, and in legal texts, we find groups in which a
drunkard makes his bed on a wintry night on a snow bank, undresses
himself, carefully folds his clothes beside him, and runs away at the
approach of a policeman, climbs over a fence and runs so fast that he
can not be caught. Such a man certainly has not only the use of his
organs, but also uses them with comparative correctness in undressing,
folding his clothes, and in running away. If now somebody should pass
the drunkard’s lair and if he should think that a burglar is in his
house and should wound the passer-by, who would believe the drunkard
when he tells this story?
In the street there is frequent opportunity of observing some of the
arrests of drunkards who fight with fists and feet and teeth, and often
have to be taken to the police station in a wheel-barrow. Now if the man
has had the misfortune of recognizing the policeman in his first
opposition, and of giving his own name properly, we say that he has
“shown definite signs of responsibility,” and we sentence him. But in
most cases it was merely the instantaneous illumination of his cindery
mind (which was, perhaps, stimulated to the recognition of the policeman
and the pronunciation of his name by the latter’s rather bearish
remarks) which then dies away as swiftly as it rose, and is followed by
instinctive self-defense. Anybody who has frequently observed how
utterly senseless is the battle of a drunkard with the overwhelming
power of three or four or more people, and how he continues to struggle,
even when wholly or completely conquered, must feel convinced that such
a man is no longer responsible.
In the same way we must never forget that the prosecution of some very
habitual activity is in no sense evidence of responsibility. Especially
when some action has very fine-drawn limits, and the actor knows that a
false grip will result in questionable consequences, the habitual
movement will be made instinctively. The soldier will properly carry out
his obligations of service, the coachman drive home, unharness, and look
after the horses, even the locomotive engineer will complete his
difficult task without a break--then, however, they fall and sleep their
drunkenness off. Now, if something intervenes unexpectedly during the
performance of this habitual activity, especially some opposition, some
superfluous cajolement, correction, or similar thing, the intoxicated
actor is thrown completely out of gear, and can not be restored to it,
nor is he able properly to oppose this obstacle. Hence he acts against
it reflexly, and in most cases explosively.
It may be perceived that such a drunkard works unconsciously; having
been thrown out of gear by some sudden remark, he is unable to complete
what he is trying to do, and this develops a despairing expression of
emotion for which he is decidedly not responsible. A countless number of
popular maxims indicate the popular opinion that it is best to get out
of the way of a drunkard, never to help him, because he can best look
after himself. The public seems to know this very well, theoretically,
but in practice no wife applies this theory when her drunken husband
comes home; in practice the policeman looks after the drunkard, in
practice the peasant and the master quarrel with the drunken servant and
the apprentice,--and then everybody wonders when suddenly superiors are
hurt, maimed, and otherwise opposed.
The best evidence for the certain but very definite routine in which the
drunkard moves, is the example cited by Combe[351] concerning the porter
who, while drunk, had wrongly delivered a packet. Later on he could not
think where he had brought it, but as by chance he got drunk again, he
fetched the packet, and brought it to its proper destination. This
process indicates that the “in vino veritas” depends not merely on
speech, but on action, and that this coming to the surface of what is
really thought is the reason for so many insults offered during
intoxication. Such phenomena are best studied at the beginning of
narcosis, in which all the conditions of intoxication come together in a
much briefer period of time, and hence appear much more clearly. How
involuntarily the inmost thought breaks through under such
circumstances, is shown by an occurrence in a surgical clinic. An old
peasant was to have been subjected to a not dangerous but rare
operation. The famous surgeon of the University had one student after
another make a diagnosis, and asked one student after another what kind
of an operation he would perform. The peasant misunderstood it
altogether, and as he was half stupefied he cried out involuntarily:
“The old donkey is asking one loafer after another what to do. Nobody
knows anything, and yet they are going to operate on me.” Things that
are thought are expressed just as involuntarily during intoxication, and
thus the insults, etc., are accomplished.
What is never believed, but yet may be true, is the defence of a
prisoner that intoxication led him to steal. I know of a talented,
kindly, and thoroughly honorable young man, who during slight
intoxication steals everything he can lay his hands on. His drunkenness
is so light that he can remove with complete skill his comrades’
cigarette cases, pocket handkerchiefs, and worst of all, their
latchkeys. At the same time, he is still drunk enough to have great
difficulty in remembering, the next day, who the owners of these things
are. Now suppose a thief told such a story in court!
I cite from the excellent account of Hoffbauer,[352] the development of
intoxication: “At first the consumption of liquor intensifies the
feeling of physical health, or increases that health. It appears to have
a proportionately similar effect upon the powers of the mind. Ideas move
easily, expression is smoother and more adequate. The condition and
emotional attitude are such that one might very well always wish for
one’s self and one’s friends. Until this point no intoxication is
visible. The flow of ideas only increases and becomes more intense.
Excellent, appropriate notions occur to one, but there is effort to
restrain the irregular flow of thought. This state is visible in the
effort which must be used to carry on any rather involved story. The
ideas flow too rapidly to be easily ordered according to the
requirements of the story. At this point the beginning of intoxication
is already perceptible. In its development the flow of ideas becomes
continually stronger, the senses lose their ordinary sharpness, and as
these fail the imagination grows stronger. The drinker’s language is
now, at least in particular expressions and turns of speech, more
voluminous and poetical, and rather louder than is natural. The former
indicates an intensification of imaginative power, and the latter a
dulling of the senses which becomes more and more obvious in the
development of the intoxication. For the drinker speaks louder because
he hears his words less clearly than before, and judges the hearing of
his auditors by his own, although the vividness and the more rapid flow
of ideas induced by intoxication have a share in this. Soon the dulling
of the senses becomes still more obvious. For example, it is seen that a
person who is so drunk that he confuses otherwise well-known companions,
even if only for a minute, thinks he puts his glass softly on the
table, although it falls to the ground. And then there are still other
forms of physical helplessness to be perceived. From his speech it may
be judged that the connection between his ideas has significantly
decreased: although still very vivid, they are now like luminous sparks
that appear and disappear. This vividness of ideas, or their rapid flow,
gives the inebriate’s desires an unmanageable intensity which reason can
no longer control. He follows them instantaneously if some accident does
not turn him aside. His physical helplessness becomes now obvious in
stammering, in a wabbly gait, etc., until finally he falls into a deep
sleep in which physical and intellectual repair begin.
“If the conditions of intoxication were to be divided into periods, we
should have the following: In the first period of intoxication ideas
have only an extraordinary degree of vividness. The rule of the
understanding over actions is not altogether suppressed, so that the
drunken fellow is fully conscious of his external relations and is aware
of what is going on within and about him. But the rapid flow of ideas
hinders careful reflection and leads to an intensified excitability,
particularly to those emotional expressions which are characterized by
the more rapid flow. This is due to the familiar psychological law
according to which one emotional condition leads into another as it is
more like that other in tone. Anger and merriment, hence, show
themselves more and more among uneducated people who are not habituated
to the limitation of their emotional expression by reference to the
forms of the world of fashion. Without this control, every stimulation
intensifies the emotion, since every natural expression adds to its
vividness. The irritability taken in itself is at this stage less
dominant, inasmuch as the drinker is at the same time satisfied with
himself, and the self-satisfaction makes the irritability endurable.
Only some accidental circumstance can intensify and spread this
irritability. Such circumstances intensify the drunkard’s liveliness and
lead to the outbreak of merriment approximating upon hilarity, then to a
verbal quarrel, which need not yet be a real quarrel and may be
conducted in all friendship. It seems that in most cases the
irritability is excited through the fact that the drunkard’s
self-satisfaction speedily lapses, or that he is disturbed in doing
things about which he is conceited. Now so long as the intoxication does
not exceed this stage, its effects and the outbreaks of its passions may
be suppressed. The drinker is here still self-possessed and is not
likely to lose control of himself unless he is progressively excited
thereto.
“In the next period of intoxication, the drunkard still has his senses,
although, all in all, they are considerably weaker than usual, and he is
somewhat beside himself. Memory and understanding have quite left him.
Hence, he acts as if the present moment were the only one, the idea of
the consequences of his actions having no effect upon him because he no
longer sees the connection between the two. And since his whole past has
disappeared from his mind he can not consider his more remote
circumstances. He acts, therefore, as he might if the memories of his
circumstances and ideas of the consequences of his actions did not
control his conduct, and lead him to rule himself. The slightest
excitation may awaken all his strongest passion which then carry him
away. Again, the slightest excuse may turn him from what he has in mind.
In this condition he is much more dangerous to himself and others
because he is impelled not only by the irresistible force of his
passions, but because, also, he rarely knows what he is doing and must
be considered a pure fool.
“In the last period, the drunkard has so lost his senses that he has no
more idea of his external environment.”
With regard to particular conditions, it may be held that the quantity
of drink is indifferent. Apart from the fact that we know nothing about
the quantity of alcohol a man has taken when we hear merely about so and
so many liters of wine or so and so much brandy, the influence of
quantities is individual, and no general rule whatever can be laid down.
As a matter of fact, there are young and powerful men who may become
quite foolish on half a glass of wine, especially when they are angry,
frightened, or otherwise excited, and there are weak old people who can
carry unbelievable quantities. In short, the question of quantity is
altogether foolish. The appearance and constitution of an individual
offers as little ground for inference as quantity. The knowledge of a
man’s regular attitude toward the consumption of alcohol is a safer
guide. Hellenbach asserts that wine has always the same influence on the
same individual; one always becomes more loquacious, another more
silent, a third more sad, a fourth merrier. And up to a certain limit
this is true, but there is always the question of what the limit is,
inasmuch as many individuals pass through different emotional conditions
at different stages. It often happens that a person in the first stage
who wants to “embrace the world and kiss everybody,” may change his mood
and become dangerous. Thus, anybody who has seen him several times in
the first stage may make the mistake of believing that he can not pass
it. In this direction explanations must be made very carefully if they
are not to be false and deceptive.
It is important, also, to know how a man drinks. It is known that a
small quantity of wine can intoxicate if it is soaked up with bread
which is repeatedly dipped into the wine. Wine drunk in the cellar works
with similar vigor if one laughs, is merry, is vexed, while drinking, or
if a large variety of drinks is taken, or if they are taken on an empty
stomach. For the various effects of alcohol, and for its effects on the
same person under different conditions, see Münsterberg’s “Beitrage zur
Experimentellen Psychologie,” Heft IV.
The effect of alcohol on memory is remarkable in so far as it often
happens that many people lose their memory only with respect to a single
very narrow sphere. Many are able to remember everything except their
names, others everything except their residence, still others everything
except the fact that they are married, and yet others every person
except their friends (though they know all the policemen), and the last
class are mistaken about their own identity. These things are believed
like many another thing, when told by a friend, but never under any
circumstances when the defendant tells them in the court room.