instances of abnormal reminiscence differently caused, we shall find
reason for believing that it is nothing of the kind. There is no doubt
that insanity may in the most general way be described as a species of
cerebral paralysis, yet in many kinds of insanity there is an abnormal
quickening of memory. Likewise in idiocy, which differs from insanity
as being due to arrested development rather than to degradation of the
cerebrum, the same phænomenon is sometimes witnessed. We remember
seeing a child who, though generally considered quite "foolish,"
could, as we were assured, accurately repeat large portions of each
Sunday's sermon. Dr. Anstie mentions a boy, absolutely idiotic, who
nevertheless "had a perfect memory for the history of all the farm
animals in the neighbourhood, and could tell with unerring precision
that this was So-and-so's sheep or pig among any number of other
animals of the same kind." Similar phænomena have been observed in
epileptic delirium, and in the delirium of fevers. Every one has heard
Coleridge's story of the sick servant-girl who repeated passages from
Latin, Greek and Hebrew authors which she had years before heard
recited by a clergyman in whose house she worked. A gentleman in
India, after a sunstroke, utterly lost his command of the Hindustani
language, recovering it only during the recurrent paroxysms of
epileptic delirium to which he was afterward subject. Equally
interesting is the case of the Countess de Laval, who in the ravings
of puerperal delirium was heard by her Breton nurse talking baby-talk
to herself in the Breton language,--a language which she had known in
early infancy, but had since so entirely forgotten as not to
distinguish it from gibberish when spoken before her.[6] A similar
exaltation of memory not unfrequently precedes the coma produced by
chloroform; and it has been known to occur in cases of acute poisoning
by opium and haschisch. Finally it may be observed that drowning men
are said to recall, as in a panoramic vision, all the events of their
lives, even the most trivial.
[6] For this and parallel cases see Hamilton, _Lectures
on Metaphysics_, Lect. XVIII.
We may conclude therefore that the extraordinary memory sometimes
observed in drunken persons, however obscure the interpretation of it
may at present be, is at all events a symptom, not of mental
exaltation, but of mental disorganization consequent upon cerebral
disease. We may search in vain among the phænomena of intoxication for
any genuine evidences of that heightened mental activity which is said
to be followed by a depressive recoil. There is no recoil; there is no
stimulation; there is nothing but paralytic disorder from the moment
that narcosis begins. From the outset the whole nervous system is
lowered in tone, the even course of its nutrition disturbed, and the
rhythmic discharge of its functions interfered with.
Another remarkable effect of alcoholic narcotism--the most hopelessly
demoralizing of all--yet remains to be treated. We refer to the
perpetual craving of the drinker for the repetition, and usually for
the increase, of his dose. It is a familiar fact that the drunkard is
urged to the gratification of his appetite by such an irresistible
physical craving that his power of self-control becomes after a while
completely destroyed. And it is often observed that those who begin
drinking moderately go on, as if by a kind of fatality, drinking
oftener and drinking larger quantities, until they have become
confirmed inebriates. But in the current interpretation of these facts
there is, as might be expected, a great deal of confusion. On the one
hand, the teetotalers declare that the use of alcohol in any amount
creates a physical craving and necessitates a progressive increase of
the dose. On the other hand, the common sense of mankind, perceiving
that nine persons out of ten are all their lives in the habit of using
alcoholic drinks, while hardly one person out of ten ever becomes a
drunkard,[7] declares that this physical craving is not produced save
in peculiarly organized constitutions. We believe that neither of
these opinions is correct. In all probability, the demand for an
increased narcotic effect is due to a gradual alteration in the
molecular structure of the nervous system caused by frequently
repeated narcosis; and if narcosis be invariably avoided, _in systems
which are free from its inherited structural effects_, the craving is
never awakened. This point is so interesting and important as to call
for some further elucidation.
[7] It has been asserted by teetotalers that the mortality
from intemperance is 50,000 a year in the United States
alone!! It is to be regretted that friends of temperance are
to be found who will persist in injuring the cause by such
wanton exaggerations. In the United States, in 1860, the
whole number of deaths from all causes was a trifle less
than 374,000: the whole number of deaths from intemperance
was 931,--that is to say, less than one in 374. See the
admirable pamphlet by the late Gov. Andrew, on _The Errors
of Prohibition_, p. 112. In view of these facts, it appears
to us many leagues within the bounds of probability to say
that hardly one person in ten is a drunkard.
Frequent intoxication with alcohol, opium, coca, or haschisch, brings
about a structural degeneration of the nerve-material; the
consequences of which are to be seen in delirium, softening of the
brain, and other forms of general paralysis. "By degrees the nervous
centres, especially those on which the particular narcotic used has
the most powerful influence, become degraded in structure." A
permanent pathological state is thus induced, in which the production
of a given narcotic effect is not so easy as in the healthy organism.
"A certain quantity of nervous tissue has in fact ceased to fill the
_rôle_ of nervous tissue, and there is less of impressible matter upon
which the narcotic may operate, and hence it is that the confirmed
drunkard, opium-eater, or _coquero_, requires more and more of his
accustomed narcotic to produce the intoxication which he delights in.
It is necessary now to saturate his blood to a high degree with the
poison, and thus to insure an extensive contact of it with the nervous
matter, if he is to enjoy once more the transition from the realities
of life to the dreamland, or the pleasant vacuity of mind, which this
or the other form of narcotism has hitherto afforded him."[8] It is
easy to see how this structural degeneration may be produced. It takes
a certain time for the nervous system to recover from the effects of
each separate narcotic dose; and if a fresh dose is taken before
recovery is completed, it is obvious that the diseased condition will
by and by be rendered permanent. The entire process of nutrition will
adapt itself gradually to this new state of things; and no efficiency
of repair will afterward make the nervous system what it was before.
It is in this way that the narcotic craving for continually increased
doses is originated and kept alive.
[8] See Anstie, op. cit. pp. 215, 216, 218.
In the case of the milder narcotics--tea, coffee and tobacco--this
craving, though the symptom of a depraved state of the organism, does
not directly demoralize the character. But the moral injury wrought by
alcohol, opium and haschisch is known to every one, and the effects of
coca-drunkenness are said to be no less frightful. This is because the
milder narcotics affect chiefly the medulla, the spinal cord and the
sympathetic, while the fiercer ones chiefly affect the cerebrum.
Tobacco may paralyze the brain sufficiently to cause nocturnal
wakefulness; but it cannot impair one's self-control or one's sense of
responsibility. It never transforms a man into a selfish brute, who
will beat his wife, neglect his business, and allow his children to
starve. Here then we arrive at a supremely interesting distinction.
The craving for tobacco is principally a craving of those inferior
nerve-centres which exert comparatively little direct influence upon
the mental and moral life. But the craving for alcohol is a cerebral
craving. The habitual indulgence of it involves a continual
suppression of those loftier guiding qualities which, as we have seen,
are the later effects of civilization upon the individual character;
while the attributes of savagery, the lower sensual passions--our
common inheritance from pre-social times--are allowed full play in
supplying material for the imagination and in shaping the purposes of
life. Mr. Parton's remark, therefore, which is absurd as applied to
tobacco, is a profound physiological verity as applied to the narcotic
action of alcohol,--it tends to make us think and act like barbarians,
for it allies us psychologically with barbarians.
These considerations throw some light upon the way in which chronic
narcosis, like other diseases entailing structural derangements, may
be transmitted from father to son. As a matter of observation it is
known that drunkenness may run through whole families, no less than
gout or consumption. Or, like other diseases, it may skip one or two
generations and then reappear. It is evident that the children of a
drunkard, _born after_ the establishment of nervous degeneration in
the father's system, may inherit structural narcosis attended by a
latent craving for alcohol. Some unfortunate persons thus seem to be
born sots, as others are born lunatics or consumptives.
The hygienic rule in all cases of structural narcosis, whether
acquired or inherited, is total abstinence once and always. These
unfortunate creatures cannot be temperate, they must therefore be
abstinent. As Sainte-Beuve profoundly remarks concerning that
ferocious Duke of Burgundy for whom Fénelon wrote his "Télémaque," he
was such a wretch that they could not make a _man_ of him, they could
only make him a _saint_: that is, he was got up on such wrong
principles that, whether bad or good, he must be somewhat morally
lop-sided and abnormal. Just so with those whose nervous systems are
impaired by alcohol: we cannot make them healthy men who can take a
stimulant glass and want no more,--we can only make them teetotalers.
Those too who have not got themselves into this predicament will do
well to remember that there is extreme danger in the common practice
of drinking as much as one likes, provided one does not get drunk.
"Getting drunk" means paralysis of the cerebral hemispheres; but, as
we have seen, paralysis of the cervical sympathetic, shown in flushed
face and moist forehead, occurs some time before the more conspicuous
symptom. _It is a narcotic effect, and must be always avoided, if the
narcotic craving is to be kept clear of._ Therefore a man who wishes
to enjoy alcohol, and reap benefit from it, and be ready at any time
to do without it, like any other wholesome aliment, must always keep a
long way this side of intoxication. If ten glasses of sherry will make
him garrulous, he will do well never to drink more than four.
Before leaving this part of the subject, it may be well to note
certain cases, collected by Theodore Parker, of consumptive families,
in which those members who were topers did not die of consumption. It
appeared that, in certain families whose histories he gave, nearly all
those who did not die of consumption were rum-drinkers! And from these
data Mr. Parker drew the inference that "intemperate habits (where the
man drinks a pure, though coarse and fiery liquor like New England
Rum) tend to check the consumptive tendency, though the drunkard, who
himself escapes the consequences, may transmit the fatal seed to his
children." Mr. Parton, who quotes this, thinks it poor comfort for
topers. We doubt if there is any "comfort" to be found in it. It is
contrary to all our present science to suppose that consumption can be
prevented by narcosis. The prime cause of consumption is defective
assimilation: the tissues, _from lack of sufficient nerve-stimulus_,
are incapable of appropriating food. How absurd, therefore, to suppose
that narcosis, which impairs the stimulating energy of the nerves, can
check an existing tendency to consumption! What the consumptive person
needs is stimulus, not paralysis. But it is easy to believe that the
same impaired nutrition of the nerves which may in one person end in
consumption, may in another person act as a predisposing cause of
narcosis. Insanity, consumption, and drunkenness, are diseases which
appear to go hand in hand. Dr. Maudsley, in his great work on the
"Pathology of Mind," gives instructive tables which show that these
three diseases may alternate with each other in the same family for
several generations, culminating finally in epilepsy, idiocy,
paralysis and impotence, when the family becomes happily extinct. This
consanguinity of diseases appears more marked when we extend our view
over a certain extensive locality. The figures cited by Gov. Andrew
appear to show that both drunkenness and insanity are far more common
in New England than in other parts of the Union; and consumption is
proverbially the New England disease. We are inclined to suspect,
therefore, that in the families mentioned by Mr. Parker, the children
inherited structurally defective nervous systems, the consequent
symptoms being in one case pulmonary and in another case cerebral.
This, we believe, is all that we need contribute at present to the
subject of alcoholic narcosis. It will be seen that in maintaining
that the Coming Man will drink wine, we are not recommending that the
Coming Man should go to bed drunk. An argument drawn from purely
scientific data, when once thoroughly mastered, is likely to be of
more avail in checking intemperance than all the "spurts of
extravagance" which teetotalers can emit between now and doomsday. Mr.
Parton asks, Why have the teetotalers failed? They have failed because
they have exaggerated. They have failed because they have not been
content with the simple truth. They want the truth, the whole truth,
and twice as much as the truth. If they would only hoard up the
nervous energy which they expend in making a vain clamour, in order to
use it in quietly investigating the character, causes, and conditions
of alcoholic drunkenness, they might make out a statement which the
world would believe, and by and by act upon. At present the world does
not follow them, because it does not believe them. When the zealous
aquarian anathematizes a rum-shop, we sympathize with him; but when he
rolls up his eyes in holy horror at a glass of lager-bier, we laugh at
him. When he says that a quart of raw gin taken at a couple of gulps
will kill a man stone-dead, we cheerfully acquiesce. But when he says
that the gill of sherry taken at dinner will impair our digestion,
render us susceptible to cold, steal away some of our vigour, and
muddle our head so that we cannot write an article in the evening,--we
can but good-naturedly smile, and try another gill to-morrow.
The stimulant effects of alcohol upon the nervous system are very
similar to those of tobacco. Like tobacco, alcohol stimulates the
alimentary secretions, slightly quickens and strengthens the pulse,
diminishes weariness, cures sleeplessness, puts an end to trembling,
calms nervous excitement, retards waste, and facilitates repair. By
its antiparalytic action, it checks epilepsy, quiets delirium, and
alleviates spasms and clonic convulsions; and in typhoid fever, where
excessive waste of the nervous system is supposed to be one of the
chief sources of danger, it is used, as we shall presently see, with
most signal success. It thus appears, like tobacco, to be in general
an economizer of vital energy and an aid to effective nutrition. It
also directly assists digestion; but as Mr. Parton thinks it does not
do this, we will first quote his opinion, and then see how much it is
worth.
"Several experiments have been made with a view to ascertain whether
mixing alcohol with the gastric juice increases or lessens its power
to decompose food, and the results of all of them point to the
conclusion that the alcohol retards the process of decomposition. A
little alcohol retards it a little, and much alcohol retards it much.
It has been proved by repeated experiment that _any_ portion of
alcohol, however small, diminishes the power of the gastric juice to
decompose. The digestive fluid has been mixed with wine, beer, whisky,
brandy, and alcohol diluted with water, and kept at the temperature of
the living body, and the motions of the body imitated during the
experiment; but, in every instance, the pure gastric juice was found
to be the true and sole digester, and the alcohol a retarder of
digestion. This fact, however, required little proof. We are all
familiar with alcohol as a _preserver_, and scarcely need to be
reminded that, if alcohol assists digestion at all, it cannot be by
assisting decomposition." (p. 64.)
We would give something to know how many readers, outside of the
medical profession, may have detected at the first glance the fatal
fallacy lurking in this argument. Of its existence Mr. Parton himself
is blissfully unconscious. The experiment, no doubt, seems quite
complete and conclusive. We have the gastric juice mixed with
alcoholic liquor, we have the suitable temperature, and we have an
imitation of the motions of the stomach. What more can be desired? We
reply, the most important element in the problem is entirely
overlooked. It is the old story,--the play of Hamlet with the part of
Hamlet left out; and nothing can better illustrate the extreme danger
of reasoning confidently from what goes on outside the body to what
must go on inside the body. For in order to have made their experiment
complete, Mr. Parton's authorities _should have manufactured an entire
nervous system_, as well as a network of blood-vessels through which
the alcohol might impart to that nervous system its stimulus. In
short, before we can make an artificial digestive apparatus which will
work at all like the natural one, we must know how to construct a
living human body! In the case before us, _the nervous stimulus_,
ignored by Mr. Parton, is the most essential factor in the whole
process. There is no doubt that a given quantity of undiluted gastric
juice will usually perform the chemical process of food-transformation
more rapidly than an equal quantity of gastric juice which is
diluted.[9] But there is also no doubt that when we take a small
quantity of alcohol into the stomach, _the amount of gastric juice is
instantly increased_. This results from the stimulant action of
alcohol both upon the pneumogastric nerves and upon the great
splanchnic or visceral branches of the sympathetic. Just as when
tobacco is smoked, though probably to a less extent, the gastric
secretion is increased; and the motions of the stomach are also
increased. This increase in the quantity of the digestive fluid, due
to nervous stimulus, is undoubtedly more than sufficient to make up
for the alleged impairment of its quality caused by mixing it with a
foreign substance. The action of saliva and carbonate of soda supply
us with a further illustration. In artificial experiments, like those
upon which Mr. Parton relies, alkaline substances are found to retard
digestion by neutralizing a portion of the acid of the gastric juice.
Yet the alkaline saliva, swallowed with food, does not retard
digestion; and Claude Bernard has shown that carbonate of soda
actually hastens, to a notable degree, the digestive process. Why is
this? It is because these alkalies act as local stimulants upon the
lining of the stomach, and thus increase the quantity of gastric
juice. It is in this way that common salt, eaten with other food, also
facilitates digestion; although salt is a _preserver_, as well as
alcohol.
[9] This is not always true, however: it is well to look sharp before
making a sweeping statement. The digesting power of gastric juice is
_increased_ by diluting it with a certain amount of water. See
Lehmann, _Physiologische Chemie_, II. 47.
Here we come upon Mr. Parton's second blunder. He talks about the
"decomposition" of food, and appears to think that digestion is a kind
of _putrefaction_, so that alcohol, which arrests the latter, must
also arrest the former. He says: We do not need to experiment, for we
_know_ that alcohol, which is a _preserver_, cannot digest food by
decomposing it. This unlucky remark illustrates the danger of writing
on a subject, the rudiments of which you have not taken time to get
acquainted with. Before attempting to lay down the law upon an
abstruse point connected with the subject of digestion, common
prudence would appear to dictate that one should first acquire some
dim notion of what digestion is. The veriest tyro in physiology should
know that the gastric juice is itself a preventer of putrefaction. It
will not only keep off organic decay, but it will stop it after it has
begun.[10] In this sense of the word, it is as much a _preserver_ as
alcohol.
[10] Dunglison, _Human Physiology_, vol. I. p. 148; Lewes,
_Physiology of Common Life_, vol. I. p. 170.
As it takes time to expose all the fallacies which Mr. Parton can
crowd into one short paragraph, we have thus far admitted that alcohol
impairs the quality of the gastric juice by diluting it: as a matter
of fact, it does not so impair it. If it is a _preserver_, it is also
a _coagulator_. It coagulates the albuminous portions of the food,
thus enabling them to be more easily acted upon by the gastric
secretion.[11] So that, on looking into the matter, we find the
stimulant dose of alcohol doing everything to quicken, and nothing
whatever to slacken, digestion. It coaxes out more digestive fluid,
and it lightens the task which that fluid has to perform.
[11] Dunglison, op. cit. I. 196.
Daily experience tells us that the glass of wine taken with our
dinner, or the thimble-full of _liqueur_ taken after dessert,
diminishes the feeling of heaviness, and enables us sooner to go to
work. Of indigestion and its accompanying sensations, we are unable to
speak from experience; but Mr. Parton feelingly describes the effects
of alcohol as follows. "When we have taken too much shad for
breakfast, we find that a wineglass of whisky instantly mitigates the
horrors of indigestion, and enables us again to contemplate the future
without dismay." Now, if Mr. Parton's ideas on this subject were
correct, his dose of whisky ought to exasperate his torment. The fact
that it comforts him shows that it serves to quicken the too sluggish
stomach to its normal activity. It is a very good clinical experiment
indeed.
Alcohol, however, aids digestion only when taken in moderate
quantities. A narcotic dose, by paralyzing the medulla and the
sympathetic, interferes with the flow of gastric juice. Here, as in
most cases, the large quantity does just the reverse of what the small
quantity will do. The same is true of food. Digestible food, in
moderate amount, stimulates the gastric secretion; in excessive
amount, it arrests its action. "Another curious fact is, that although
the addition of organic acids increases the digestive power of this
fluid, there is a limit at which this increase ceases, and beyond it,
excess of acid suspends the whole digestive power."[12] It is
therefore a wise thing to eat heartily, but a silly thing to eat
voraciously; it is wise to eat pickles, but silly to make one's dinner
of them; it is wise to drink a glass of sherry, but silly to empty the
bottle. The happy mean is the thing to be maintained, in digestion as
in every thing else.
[12] Lewes, loc. cit.