I cannot give any directions with regard to the regimen of a reformed drunkard. This will depend upon different circumstances, such as age, constitution, diseases, and manner of living. It may be laid down as a general rule, that it ought to be as little heating as possible. A milk or vegetable diet will commonly be preferable to every other. But there are cases in which food of a richer quality is requisite, as when there is much emaciation and debility. Here it may even be necessary to give a moderate quantity of wine. In gout, likewise, too great a change of living is not always salutary, more especially in advanced years, where there is weakness of the digestive organs, brought on by the disease. In old age, wine is often useful to sustain the system, more especially when sinking by the process of natural decay. The older a person is, the greater the inconvenience of abstaining all at once from liquors, and the more slowly ought they to be taken away. I cannot bring myself to believe that a man who for half a century has drunk freely, can suddenly discontinue this ancient habit without a certain degree of risk: the idea is opposed to all that we know of the bodily and mental functions.
In attempting to cure the habit of drunkenness, opium may sometimes be used with advantage. By giving it in moderate quantities, the liquor which the person is in the habit of taking, may be diminished to a considerable extent, and he may thus be enabled to leave them off altogether. There is only one risk, and it is this—that he may become as confirmed a votary of opium as he was before of strong liquors. Of two evils, however, we should always choose the least: and it is certain that however perniciously opium may act upon the system, its moral effects and its power of injuring reputation are decidedly less formidable than those of the ordinary intoxicating agents.
The following anecdote has been communicated to me by the late Mr. Alexander Balfour, (Author of “Contemplation,” “Weeds and Wildflowers,” and other ingenious works,) and exhibits a mode of curing dram-drinking equally novel and effective:—
About the middle of last century, in a provincial town on the east coast of Scotland, where smuggling was common, it was the practice for two respectable merchants to gratify themselves with a social glass of good Hollands, for which purpose they regularly adjourned, at a certain hour, to a neighbouring gin-shop. It happened one morning that something prevented one of them from calling on his neighbour at the usual time. Many a wistful and longing look was cast for the friend so unaccountably absent, but he came not. His disappointed companion would not go to the dram-shop alone; but he afterwards acknowledged that the want of his accustomed cordial rendered him uneasy the whole day. However, this feeling induced him to reflect upon the bad habit he was acquiring, and the consequences which were likely to follow. He therefore resolved to discontinue dram-drinking entirely, but found it difficult to put his resolution into practice, until, after some deliberation, he hit upon the following expedient:—Filling a bottle with excellent Hollands, he lodged it in his back-shop, and the first morning taking his dram, he replaced it with simple water. Next morning he took a second dram, replacing it with water; and in this manner he went on, replacing the fluid subtracted from the bottle with water, till at last the mixture became insipid and ultimately nauseous, which had such an effect upon his palate, that he was completely cured of his bad habit, and continued to live in exemplary soberness till his death, which happened in extreme old age.
Dr. Kain, an American physician, recommends tartar emetic for the cure of habitual drunkenness. “Possessing,” he observes, “no positive taste itself, it communicates a disgusting quality to those fluids in which it is dissolved. I have often seen persons who, from taking a medicine in the form of antimonial wine, could never afterwards drink wine. Nothing, therefore, seems better calculated to form our indication of breaking up the association, in the patient’s feelings, between his disease and the relief to be obtained from stimulating liquors. These liquors, with the addition of a very small quantity of emetic tartar, instead of relieving, increase the sensation of loathing of food, and quickly produce in the patient an indomitable repugnance to the vehicle of its administration.” “My method of prescribing it, has varied according to the habits, age, and constitution of the patient. I give it only in alterative and slightly nauseating doses. A convenient preparation of the medicine is eight grains dissolved in four ounces of boiling water—half an ounce of the solution to be put into a half-pint, pint, or quart of the patient’s favourite liquor, and to be taken daily in divided portions. If severe vomiting and purging ensue, I should direct laudanum to allay the irritation, and diminish the dose. In every patient it should be varied according to its effects. In one instance, in a patient who lived ten miles from me, severe vomiting was produced, more, I think, from excessive drinking, than the use of the remedy. He recovered from it, however, without any bad effects. In some cases, the change suddenly produced in the patient’s habits, has brought on considerable lassitude and debility, which were of but short duration. In a majority of cases, no other effect has been perceptible than slight nausea, some diarrhœa, and a gradual, but very uniform, distaste to the menstruum.”[41]
Having tried tartar emetic in several instances, I can bear testimony to its good effects in habitual drunkenness. The active ingredient in Chambers’s celebrated nostrum for the cure of ebriety, was this medicine. Tartar emetic, however, must always be used with caution, and never except under the eye of a medical man, as the worst consequences might ensue from the indiscreet employment of so active an agent.
It seems probable that, in plethoric subjects, the habit of drunkenness might be attacked with some success by the application of leeches, cold applications and blisters to the head, accompanied by purgatives and nauseating doses of tartar emetic. Dr. Caldwell of Lexington, conceives drunkenness to be entirely a disease of the brain, especially of the animal compartments of this viscus, and more especially of that portion called by phrenologists the organ of alimentiveness, on which the appetite for food and drink is supposed mainly to depend. Should his views be correct, the above treatment seems eligible, at least in drunkards of a full habit of body, and in such cases it is certainly worthy of a full trial. I refer the reader to Dr. Caldwell’s Essay, in which both the above doctrine and the practice founded upon it are very ably discussed. It is, indeed, one of the ablest papers which has hitherto appeared upon the subject of drunkenness.[42]
It very often happens, after a long course of dissipation, that the stomach loses its tone, and rejects almost every thing that is swallowed. The remedy, in this case, is opium, which should be given in the solid form in preference to any other. Small quantities of negus are also beneficial; and the carbonate of ammonia, combined with some aromatic, is frequently attended with the best effects. When there is much prostration of strength, wine should always be given. In such a case the entire removal of the long-accustomed stimulus would be attended with the worst effects. This must be done gradually.
Enervated drunkards will reap much benefit by removing to the country, if their usual residence is in town. The free air and exercise renovate their enfeebled frames; new scenes are presented to occupy their attention; and, the mind being withdrawn from former scenes, the chain of past associations is broken in two.