INSANITY: INTERMITTENT AND CHRONIC.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume VIII, Issue 422, 10 May 1877, Page 3

INSANITY: INTERMITTENT AND CHRONIC.

[by key. e. HOXER.]

(Continued.)

I have observed that there is no difference in the matter "of these two Insanities, bnt I would by no means imply that there is no difference in the exhibition of the disease. Many of the inmates of our New Zealand Lunatic Asylums are really in a very " interesting condition;" but I never hear of -in interesting condition of drun - kenness or intemperance. There is a very considerable difference in favor of ordinary Insanity'. It is often marked by ambitious and high soarings ot the imagination, by the exhibition of mechanical and inventive genius, political acumen, and intellectual ratiocination.. Many a shrewd fellow has found himself outwitted by inmates of our Lunatic Asylums,. The hardest problem in Political Economy—How to pay off the National Debt of England ?—-has more than once been solved by lunatic brains : I doubt whether any drunken brain ever ventured, ever had the power to try, to solve it. In this state of " temporary Insanity," induced by ' strong drink, a person's reckoning and balancing powers are quite upset; he cannot even calculate how to pay off his own debts, or how to wipe out his public-house score. So far from being able to take care of his estate or property and effects, he cannot even take care of his own carcase. His mental incapacity may be shown in its duration, but, while it lasts, its manifestations are most ungracious and undignified. Before concluding this physiological view of "acute" and "chronic" Insanity, it is necessary that I should qualify one of my previous remarks. I have spoken of the drunken brain returning to a state of convalescence as soon as the inflammation had subsided. That is but comparatively true, and it was in that comparative sense that I spoke; that is to say, that as soon as the brain had recovered from its feverish condition the mind again became rational, but I did not mean to imply that these intermittent fits of Insanity left the brain in as healthy a state aa they found it. By no means. No physical law can be violated with impunity. Frequent attacks of an " acute" disease never leave the constitution unimpaired—they generally lay the foundation of a slow, wasting ''chronic" malady. The work of mischief may be slow, but it will be sure, and all the surer because slow. At first, and between the successive attacks, it may be imperceptible, . but in the end it will be very palpable. Not only does drunkenness or intemperanse secretly undermine the constitution, destroy the tone and impair the functions of the thorax, the chest, the stomach, and the viscera. The injuries, the succession of injuries, which it inflicts upon the brain are sure to end in premature imbecility. The, brain partakes of the general growth of the body: it changes in form, and substance and quality. If it does not belong to a drunken or diseased body, but is. properly matured, trained, and exercised, its parts become more fully developed, and improve generally in form, fibre, and quality. In the same way, a drunken brain, one that is scarcely ever free from fever, seldom engaged in intellectual exercises, and the whole of whose sentient existence is spent in getting ill, and then getting better—such a brain cannot, and does not, fail to deteriorate in form and quality, and become unable to .perform its proper functions. When it has passed through twenty or thirty years of. " intermittent Insanity " the extent of the injury is well seen, and it is then difficult to say whether the brain or the mind has suffered most. Of all the objects in creation, what more pitiable and worthless thing is there than old drunkard? He is quite superannuated; his brain is worn out; he crawls out the remainder of his days, a despised dotard ; he is incapable of anything requiring mental effort; a child is his master. Towards this state the brain and faculties of every intemperate individual are slowly approaching. He may be young and lusty now, and seem to brave it well, but this will be his end if he live till old age come upon him.

, I am not aware that the essential identity in the nature of ordinary. Insanity and that produced by spirituous and malt liquors has ever been popularly expounded -r-I believe it has not. It is, however, well worthy of being better understood. The subject opens a rich vein of thought for your serious meditation, and admits of almost endless amplification, illustration, and proof, and much good might be expected to follow. Intemperance would be at a still lower discount than it now is if "'gloriously drunk " were considered to be just as absurd an expression as " gloriously insane. If the real facts of the case were truly known, a person would be as much ashamed of an " acute " attack of Insanity as he now is of .a " chronic " one.

Moral Insanity. I will now examine the Insanity of drunkenness, or intemperance, from an entirely different point of view. I shall not have to treat of a derauged brain, or any kind of physical organism, or of insane actions induced thereby: my subject is " Moral Insanity," that kind of Insanity that no medicinal treatment can affect, and which, as I say, seems* to consist of some secret and mysterious influence that pervades a man's heart and understanding—that hurries him into ruin with his eyes open, and takes away from him the desire to save himself, although he sees the danger, and can avoid it if he will. " Canst thou minister to a mind diseased ? " says the greatest of all dramatists Britain's peerless poet, from whose ken no phase of mental condition escapes— Can thou minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the mrrnnn? n, rooted sorrow, Or with gome Sweet oblivion antidote Kiizo out the written roc-mis of the brain ?

Throw physic to the dogs ; L'll none on't

Ask a mere schoolboy " What is the chief object that all men are in pursuit of ? " he will reply, " Happiness." Ask the drunkard or intemperate man, and he will

reply (not with his tongue, hut .with his life;, "Poverty and misery." True it is that many of those who profess to-be in search of happiness (ail in obtaining-it because they do not set about in the right way, or seek it in the right place, -but still they think they do. On the contrary, the drunkard cannot even think that-intempe-rate- habits will fill his purse, provide worldly comforts, or insure -personal happiness ; nay, if he thinks at all, he knows that drunkenness or intemperance will produce exactly the reverse of this—he knows it from It is indeed true that the drunkard or intemperate man seldom thinks, seldom looks toward the future. But that circumstance, instead, of avoiding the charge of; Insanity, only establishes it. And if he does think, c if his eyes are open; if he sees some little into the depth of the hell of misery that he is sliding into, and yet voluntarily co tin ties in his suicidal course, then, too, he must be insane ; think, or not think, he is in a a condition of " Moral Ifisanity." '

In order to make this more apparent, I will attempt something of an of this moral malady. First of all I will examine it as a pecuniary question. Does the drunkard or intemperate man get money's worth for his money ? Does he get anything at all for it ? Does he not buy something worse than nothing? To become a drunkard, and to continue so, costs him not less than half-a-crown per week. For that half-crown he gets, at most, an hour or two of enjoyment, as he calls it. That is what he docs get. Now, observe what he might get lor it if he chose If, instead of being spent in .drink, that half-crown were invested at five per cent, compound interest, it would in twenty-five years amount to about £3OO. Half-a-crown a week, however is a"very low figure for the purchase of a life of drunkenness or intemperance. There are hundreds in this colony whose public house scores could not be cleared for five shillings per wsek. Now, if that were in - vested as before mentioned, it would produce £6OO. With these data allow me to compare the result of these two modes of investment. It appears as follows:—Realized result of ss. per week invested in the purchase of intemperance: At forty-six years of age, an old man's constitution while yet in the prime of life, an Bmpty stomach, a superannuated mind, a beggared reputation, the public Hospital or Benevolent Asylum before him, and his own wretched thoughts and feelings to support him by day and by night and on the bed of infirmity, affliction, and death. Similar amount invested at five per*cent: At forty-six years of age, a frame unshaken by dissolute habits, in the prime of his mental and physical powers, a fortune of about £6OO in hand, which, if invested in the purchase of two houses, would net perhaps £SO a year, render him independent for life, and leave an ample dowry for the wife or children that might survive him. If, collaterally with this, he has attended to the culture of his moral and intellectual nature, if he has dedicated his life to Almighty God, who is the author of it, and has looked upon time as but the training school of Eternity, then indeed he will have made a wise and profitable investment of the talents, powers, and faculties that God has given him, and even in this world reap the first-fruits of a well-employed life. You may say that there are very,. few individuals who can afford to lay-by five shillings every week. lam too well aware of that, but you must remember that I am speaking only of those who can, because they do squander five shillings per week in the public house; therefore, if they can manage to screw out five shillings for the purpose of drunkenness or intemperance, they could Lkewise set aside the-same amount for a five per cent, investment. Can there be any doubt as to the moral Insanity of him who prefers the former to the latter kind of investment ? Again, in order to purchase a life of drunkenness or intemperance, a man must, if he be a working individual, sacrifice all the comforts of a civilized life, and'many of the necessaries of human nature, such' as clothing, food, lodging, and the like, lie cannot'obtain decent clothes for his back, proper food for a meal, or apartments furnished fit for a civilized creature to live in. His very dress, his appearance in the street, are such as to make his fellow-workmen ashamed to stop and to speak with him. Sunday finds him among the unwashed, in dirty linen and dirty flesh, and a scarecrow thing of a coat —faithful representatives of the inner man. Could he see himself with other eyes hs would not be on very good terms with himself. Oh that some power the gift would gie us To see ourselves as others see us.

But, alas ! strong drink has impaired his vision. He has eyes that see not, and ears that hear not, and on he.- goes in the dark, floundering about, not knowing what he is doing. Repeated attacks of intermittent bain fever have completed the work of " Moral Insanity," and his eyes have suffered the fate of his wits. Again, to be intemperate the drunkard must barter away domestic happiness. The cheery supper or tea-table, the warm fireside, the caresses of his children, the love of his wife, must be deserted, forgotten, uncared for" And what does this unfortunate man get in return ? The company of individuals who will talk and sing, laugh and be merry with him, —of individuals who are not attached to him by any moral affection or principle, and who make the same use of him as ho makes of them, that of having a drunken companion. ]3ut when a season of adversity and trial comes upon him, when he is past work, and can no longer earn his bread, and beggary stares him in the face, where then is ihe friendship of his old jovial drinking cronies ? What becomes of the silly sentimentalism that would sometimes come out when they drank toasts, and made pledges of eternal friendship and affection ? What becomes of it, and of them ? They leave him to himself, and he at last finds, when too late, that drunkenness or intemperance, like all other vices, make* a person tho-

roughly, selfish and heartless, JJufc, for all that, they -.vLII- not have proved themselves more selfish towards him than he has proved himself Uwards his wife and children. -To pay the publican he has'robbed them. His. weekly wages, which should go towards feeding and c-lething them, and ministering to fheir comfort ;m! happiness, have been almost ail expended on himsdl, his selfish self. .., . '-. (To'be conUriued.J