LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.
AN OPIUM EXPERIENCE.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR.1 SIR,—When working for my graduate's degree in medicine, at Aberdeen, in 1868, I contracted the habit of taking opium. I began by small doses of laudanum as a remedy for tic-
dental in its origin, and which was quite cured by the dentist in due course. I continued the laudanum because it made my brain clear, kept me warm in the cold weather of that winter, and because I liked it. I began it on my birthday, January 3rd, and by the middle of April I was taking thirteen grains of opium a day. I said quite airily to a friend who lived with me that I should break it off in one night, and should select the night when I travelled home to London. I believed I could do so : I little knew the hold the drug had on me !
By the time we reached Perth, I was very nearly raving mad. I broke my journey there, and managed, by some sort of falsification of facts, to get enough laudanum to carry me on to Edinburgh. There I told fresh lies, and replenished my stock of laudanum. Again, at York, I got some more, and, arrived in London, I went in for a perfect opium debauch. I went home, and for a month I was happy, but had sadly in- creased my dosage,—happy, till one day I realised that my word was no longer a symbol of truth, and the moral nature I had not quite drowned leapt up in the dark and called me 4‘ liar !" to my face. Then I awoke, and for the first time for many a day I prayed. Then also came the resolve, the de- termined resolve, come what may, to be done with this damnable tyranny. At 6 o'clock that evening I took a hearty meal of meat (principally) and a little (very little) red wine. It was June 10th, 1868. I had determined to walk into the summer night, walk till I died if necessary, but walk till I won my battle, if I lived through the ordeal. I left my watch at home that I might not pawn it for opium ; I took no money with me ; even as I left home, and struck across the downs, I felt the craving coming on (the hour for my penultimate day- dose was at hand), and I knew my temptation was with me, and realised how long and bitter the struggle was to be. The craving seemed to me a palpable shape that walked beside me,—a presence that outran me and lost me, and came back to me like a faithful dog, that would not lose or leave me, that I could not leave or lose ! Sometimes I sang, some- times I raved and swore, sometimes I prayed and wept, but never once, thank God, did my resolution falter. Much of that night I cannot remember. Dim things came back to me at times,—such as a fall I had once, hurting my knee. I think I frightened some one who asked me some question, and I believe I can recollect that I myself grew, at one time, full of fear,—fear of hurting myself, not others ; and then I suffered thirst—such thirst, such awful thirst—but I must have slaked it somewhere, for in the morning my clothes and necktie were all wet, and so was my hair. At 7 in the morning of the next day, I found myself leaning on a gate and looking out on the landscape before me with a sort of curious wonder as to how I -came there ; my head dropped on my hands, I slept for (I think) only a few minutes, and awoke quite well. Since that day I have never touched it, and have never been tempted to touch it. Of course, I am well aware that the doses to which I had become accustomed were not very large ; but I am also sure that they were on the increase, and having told my experience lately to a distinguished English physician, he begged me, for the sake of others, to put on record these plain and simple facts. This I now do, and if I do so anonymously, it is only because I believe that no further good could follow the know-
ledge of my identity or name.—I am, Sir, &c., M.D.
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