13

The Ideology of Opium:
Opium Eating as a Disease

Morphine use and the problem, as medically defined, of hypodermic self-administration were closely connected with the medical elaboration of a disease view of addiction. Addiction is now defined as an illness because doctors have categorized it thus (current medical definitions of addiction or `dependence' are described by Griffith Edwards in the Appendix). This was a process which had its origins in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. Disease entities were being established in definitely recognizable physical conditions such as typhoid and cholera. The belief in scientific progress encouraged medical intervention in less definable conditions. The post-Darwinian revolution in scientific thinking encouraged the re-classification of conditions with a large social or economic element in them on strictly biological lines. From one _point of view, disease theories were part of late Victorian 'progress', a step forward from the moral condemnation of opium eating to, the scientific elaboration of disease views. But such views were never, however, scientifically autonomous. Their putative objectivity disguised class and moral concerns which precluded a wider understanding of the social and cultural roots of opium use.1
De Quincey's Confessions and the Earl of Mar case have already indicated that such earlier medical discussions of addiction did not concentrate on the elaboration of its theoretical background or on the condition as an exclusively medical one.2 Doctors were still very much on the periphery of the condition, not in control of it. It was the addict and not the doctor who defined the terms of the relationship. Doctors did treat opium eating in the early decades of the century, but not in a very systematic way.
Some doctors gave alcohol, reversing the traditional treatment for delirium tremens, which required opium; there were reports of bread pills soaked in poppy liquor and of maintenance on a lower dose. In many respects, however, the doctor acted very much upon the patient's wish. Some medical men reported instances of quite huge doses of opium regularly taken without considering it their prerogative to intervene. In other cases, the doctor was called in only to treat disturbing symptoms, not to rid the opium eater of the condition itself.3 Decisions on_ treatment and medical intervention were, even in the middle of the century, often very much up to the patient, not the doctor.4
But in the last quarter of the century, medical men moved to the centre of discussions on the whole nature of opium-eating. As the discussion of hypodermic morphine has shown, the pioneers in this respect were mostly French and German; the European influence on disease theories was initially strong. The work of Levinstein and Erlenmeyer was known soon after publication in English medical circles. English specialists continued to take an interest in the reactions and investigations of their French and German counterparts. Perhaps more significantly for later developments, and a foretaste of the appraisal of American practice in the x916-26 period, was the strong American influence which emerged around the turn of the century. America had a large 'drug problem' and works dealing specifically with drug addiction per se, as opposed to drink with drugs as a secondary subject, were first extensively published there. T. D. Crothers' Morphinism and Narcomanias from Other Drugs (1902) and J. B. Mattison's The Mattison Method in Morphinism, A Modern and Humane Treatment of the Morphin Disease (1902) joined Dr H. H. Kane's earlier work and the increasing notice being paid to American practice and legislative control of narcotic addiction.5
English experts and specialists were not, however, lacking. Most notable in the early period was the work of Dr Norman Kerr. Kerr, a member and at one stage chairman of the British Medical Association's Inebriates Legislation Committee, was closely involved in moves to secure the compulsory detention of alcoholic inebriates, which never, however, achieved complete success. His interest in narcotic addiction was an offshoot of his prime concern for alcoholic inebriety. Kerr's Inebriety, Its Etiology, Pathology, Treatment and Jurisprudence (1888) and his Inebriety and Narcomania were important in defining an English version of disease theories.6 Kerr was also instrumental insetting up the main debating forum in which medical elaboration of such theories took place. In 1876 he joined with a group of doctors in forming the Society for Promoting Legislation for the Control and Cure of Habitual Drunkards, of which he was elected president. In 1884 the Society, which had helped to press for the passing of the 1878 Habitual Drunkards Act, changed its title and re-emerged as the Society for the Study and Cure of Inebriety. Such early optimism proving unfounded, from 1887 the Society renamed itself as the Society for the Study of Inebriety. Its proceedings, later the British Journal of Inebriety, provided an arena for debate and for elaboration of disease theories; the Society's establishment emphasized the increasingly specialized nature of the whole question of addiction.
It was indeed a medical `growth area' in the last decades of the century. No textbook was complete without its section on the 'morphia habit', 'morphinism' or `acute and chronic poisoning by opium' (replacing the sections in earlier texts which had dealt with acute poisoning alone).' Addiction was a new medical specialism; and there were plenty of doctors willing to acquire and demonstrate the expertise. Jennings' numerous works derived in large part from his experience in practice in France (he was Paris correspondent of the Lancet for many years). There were medical experts in England, too, whose discussions were based on English practice. Clifford Allbutt, once the advocate of hypodermic morphine, was most prominent, along with the group of medical men he gathered round him, Humphrey Rolleston and W. E. Dixon most notably. Arthur Gamgee, Emeritus Professor of Physiology at Manchester University, Sir Dyce Duckworth of Bart's and Harrington Sainsbury, Senior Physician at the Royal Free, were important among the expanding numbers of specialists in the early 1900s. Directors of nursing and inebriates' homes and those doctors connected with lunatic asylums also figured largely at this time. Dr C. A. McBride, head of the Norwood Sanatorium, which specialized in alcohol and drug habits, wrote The Modern Treatment of Alcoholism and Drug Narcotism (1910); Sir Robert Armstrong-Jones, medical director of Claybury Asylum, Sir James Crichton-Miller, Lord Chancellor's Visitor in Lunacy, and Dr Thomas Clouston of the West Riding Lunatic Asylum also produced weighty contributions. The establishment of another `expert' discipline was further confirmation of the expansion of the profession.
`Disease' was generally defined in terms of deviation from the normal. A hybrid disease theory emerged in which the old moral view of opium eating was re-formulated in `scientific' form, where social factors were ignored in favour of explanations in terms of individual personality and biological determination. Most medical texts recognized that the majority of the addict case histories they cited were iatrogenic in origin. Medical administration of the drug, or self-administration by a patient unwisely given control of the hypodermic needle for an original painful condition, was a prime cause of addiction.8 The physical dimensions of the disease were mentioned. Benjamin Richardson, Weir Mitchell and others were experimenting with opium (pigeons were in common use) to establish its effects on the human organism. The phenomenon of tolerance was recognized and commented on, along with the allied symptoms of withdrawal.' Levinstein's description of abstinence symptoms was particularly detailed, for, as he noted, `although persons who suffer from morbid craving for morphia show different symptoms, some of them beginning to feel the effects of the poison after using it for several months, while others enjoy comparatively good health for years together, there is no difference between them as regards the consequences upon the partial or entire withdrawal of the narcotic drug.10 His description of the restlessness, perspiration, palpitations and profound physical disturbance of the withdrawal period was particularly compelling.
Yet the straightforward physical side of addiction took increasingly second place to a strong psychological emphasis. Disease was defined not so much in physical as in mental terms. It was, according to Crichton-Miller, 'organismal and psychical', but the latter was generally of more interest. The two-fold distinction applicable to morphine addicts emphasized the difference. The morphinist wanted to be cured and would assist in a planned withdrawal of the drug; the morphinomaniac did not really want to be cured and had therefore to be treated as a lunatic. In the former, the habit was under control; in the latter, the craving was irresistible. Morphinomania was of most interest to the specialists, but in England the concept also formed part of the all-embracing analysis of `inebriety'. The `morphine disease' was less an entity in its own right, which it more definitely was in the specialist texts of continental origin. In England it was part of a more general consideration of alcohol, in which narcotic addiction formed a subsidiary part. Diffusion of the concept of inebriety owed much to the work of Norman Kerr and the Society for the Study of Inebriety. Its application to narcotic addiction was an offshoot of their work to apply medical criteria to what had previously been regarded as much a social problem as a vice. The Habitual Drunkards Act of 1878, confirmed and extended by the Inebriates Act ten years later, had established the beginnings of a medical framework and treatment structure. In less concrete terms, the work of the Society and of the British Medical Association committee had laid the foundations for a disease view of alcoholism. Narcotic addiction was caught up in the process, for, as Kerr explained, inebriety, `an undoubted disease, a functional neurosis', could be classified with reference to the intoxicating agent. `We thus have alcohol, opium, chloral, chloroform, ether, chlorodyne, and other forms of the disease.' Continental terminology was incorporated in the term - alcoholomania, opiomania, morphinomania, chloralomania and chlorodynomania were, Kerr told the Colonial and International Congress on Inebriety in 1887, all variants of this disease.11
The connection between alcohol and opium owed much to historic precedent, for in medical and social terms the two had long been linked. But the linking of opium with alcohol in the supposedly scientific concept of `inebriety' meant that the drug, as much as alcohol, was viewed very much in the context of the temperance views which informed the work of medical men in this field. In England, the temperance and prohibitionist movement so dominated discussion of the drink problem that true scientific studies of alcoholism took place in the nineteenth century only on the continent.12 It was perhaps significant in this connection that the toast at the first meeting of the Society for the Study of Inebriety should have been to `The Temperance Organizations'. There were strong organizational links between the medical specialists in inebriety and morphinomania and the temperance movement. The connection with the developing anti-opium movement, campaigning on a primarily moral platform against Britain's involvement in the Indian opium Made with China, was equally marked. Many of the growing group of medical specialists moved easily between temperance, anti-opium and medical organizations studying inebriety. The moral and often absolutist views of the anti-opium movement were not transported wholesale into the medical arena. But there was considerable cross-fertilization. The organizational and conceptual links between the two will be more fully discussed in the following chapter. Specialists like Kerr recognized that there were difficulties in equating alcoholic-with narcotic inebriety; organic lesions were, for instance, rare in the latter. But the temperance and anti-opium connection was a strong influence on the emergence of a hybrid medical and moral theory.
Despite the wish to move from the dark ages, when inebriates were (according to Kerr) `vicious and depraved sinners', medical specialists in the subject found it difficult to accommodate the element of free will still apparent. Inebriety appeared to a great extent self-induced. In fact Dr Hill Gibson, giving a paper on `Inebriety and Volition' to one of the first meetings of the S. S. L, could still conclude, against the medical view, that the condition was `not a physical disease, but a moral vice'. 13 Moral values were inserted into this apparently `natural' and `autonomous' disease entity. Addiction, clearly not simply a physical disease entity, was a `disease of the will'. It was disease and vice. The moral weakness of the patient was an important element in causation; the disease was defined in terms of `moral bankruptcy', `a form of moral insanity', terms deriving from similar formulations in insanity. According to Dr Thomas Clouston, both morphine addiction and alcoholism were the product of `diseased cravings and paralysed control' - a paralysed control over a craving for drink, or opium, or cocaine, could be a disease as much as suicidal melancholia, he wrote. 114 Moral judgements were given some form of spurious scientific respectability simply by being transferred to a medical context. The moral emphasis in causation meant that symptoms were described in terms of personal responsibility, too. It was not the physical or even the mental dimensions of disease which were stressed, but the personal defect of the addict. Allbutt considered that `plausibility and disorderliness' were symptomatic of the earlier stages. There was an utter disregard of time and no standards of truthfulness?
This strong moral component ensured a disease theory which was individually oriented, where the addict was responsible for a condition which was somehow also the proper province for medical intervention. Opium eating was medicalized; but failure to achieve cure was a failure of personal responsibility, not medical science. Many of the specialists, Jennings perhaps most notably, placed great emphasis on the cultivation of self-control as part of the treatment regime. Health was equated with self-discipline. It was the `voluntary renunciation' of the morphia habit and the `re-education of self-control' which were important. The will of the patient to be cured (already expressed in the morphinist/ morphinomaniac distinction) was what mattered. But the personal failings involved in the definition of the condition were also seen in quite clear social terms. It was the relationship between the `diseased' individual and society which also concerned the doctors, the addicts' deviation from the norm and the social connotations of personal failings. Clouston saw as important the addicts' diminished volition, the impairment of a `higher and finer sense of duty' and the desire for activity of any kind. 16 Crothers pointed out that he was rarely an innovator or leader in any department of work.
The strong element of free will and personal responsibility remaining in the disease of the will concept co-existed uneasily with its claimed medical and scientific basis. It was in illogical alliance, too, with the psychological influence within the disease theory, the classification of addiction as, if not a form of insanity, a type of mental disease of some more minor type. According to Kerr, the `disease of inebriety resembles in many particulars the disease of insanity' (although Allbutt reported that he had not found insanity to be a consequence of morphinism). Physiological theories of mental functioning, the belief that insanity, like other disease entities, had its source in localized brain lesions, and that variations in mental and moral characteristics were a function of physical defects in the structure of the nervous system, helped addiction specialists to bridge the gap between moral and medical approaches. To Clouston, the lack of control which characterized addiction was indicative of malfunctioning brain structure. Despite the widespread use of the term 'morphinomania' (more commonly used than the milder 'morphinism'), the connection with more severe forms of mental illness was never fully established. Levinstein had maintained that it was not a `mental alienation but a human passion .. .'. And despite the clear parallels between treatment methods - the admission of narcotic inebriates to lunatic asylums, the establishment of inebriates' asylums - it was difficult to classify addicts as fully insane. What developed instead was a view of the condition as a functional rather than an organic abnormality. Addicts were `abnormal' or `neurotic' rather than insane. Their condition was a failure of the higher ethical brain according to Crothers, a `toxic psycho-neurosis' in Jennings' words." The belief in the addict's neurotic instability had, too, a strong moral focus. The addict was `abnormal' in the literal sense that he deviated from generally accepted norms of conduct and thought.
The personal responsibility ascribed to the disease of addiction found expression in the idea of `constitutional predisposition' with predisposing and exciting causes. It was the individual's own constitution which was directly responsible. Kerr, for instance, in the 1 880s, had itemized sex, age, religion, race, climate, education, pecuniary circumstances, marriage relations, temperament, diet and a host of other possibilities as predisposing causes.18 In later works, at a time of increasing concern in the wake of the revelations of physical standards at the time of the Boer War and of concern for `national efficiency', the hereditary influence was stronger. Addicts were among the `unfit', whose appearance in many areas presaged, it was thought, national decline. Criminality, insanity, homosexuality and poverty were among the conditions re-classified in this biologically determined way. The hereditary influence was also present in the analysis of addiction. Harrington Sainsbury's Drugs and the Drug Habit (19o9) emphasized the necessity of good racial stock, of increased education and welfare provision, to prevent the spread of addiction.19 Allbutt and Dixon, writing in the System of Medicine (19o6) on `Opium Poisoning and Other Intoxicants', pointed to a `hereditary craving for intoxicants', with sometimes also nervous disease or insanity in the family tree of the neurotics who formed the bulk of addiction cases .20
By allocating such a large place to biological predestination, doctors confirmed the need for their intervention, as men of science, but abandoned any attempt at a wider understanding of the social and environmental roots of the condition. Addiction became seen as an exclusive condition rather than, as in the earlier discussions, a bad habit which anyone might fall into. The influence of `constitutional' or `hereditary' predisposition with _predisposing and exciting causes substituted narrow individual perceptions couched in terms of personal failure for any extensive analysis of the social roots of opium use. Like the eugenic movement itself, from which many of the biological arguments derived, their bias was a professional one.21 Formulation and application were always limited to those addicts whom doctors were likely to treat. The disease of narcotic inebriety, or morphinism, in medical eyes at least, was very much class-based. According to a letter from Dr J. St Thomas Clarke, medical attendant at Mrs Theobald's Establishment for Ladies, in the British Medical journal in 1882, the better classes of society furnished a `considerable proportion' of morphine cases .22 From this type of professional observation came a disease theory applicable only to the middle-class patient Crothers' formulation, which saw physical and nervous exhaustion among `hard working physicians, clergymen, active business men, lawyers, teachers', who `early became neurasthenic and cerebrasthenic' as likely to lead to a generation of children who became morphine addicts, was typical.22 Jellinek, in discussing the dissemination of a new form of disease theory of alcoholism in postwar America, has pointed out that recognition of the condition as an illness was related to the extent of its occurrence in the upper social classes .24 In England, much the same spirit prevailed; and the large number of doctors or those with some medical connection among those afflicted provided added impetus for establishing a framework based on illness and disease.
The working-class addict appeared very little in the case histories; in the more extreme instances, the existence of any number of addicts outside the professional class was denied. Sir Ronald Armstrong-Jones of Claybury Asylum took a strictly materialist view of class difffences in the incidence of addiction. In his view, morphine addicts were more numerous among the `private class' in Claybury, for

... there is generally a physical difference between the brains of those in the private and the rate-aided class ... not only is the brain-weight heavier, but there is also in the private class an added complexity of convolutional pattern, and these differences, of necessity, carry With them psychological and physiological concomitants, which mean a higher sensitiveness and a greater vulnerability. 26

Few doctors saw addicts of this `rate aided' type and disease theory was not formulated with them in mind. Working-class opiate use was still a matter of continuing professional concern, as oves against opiate-based patent medicines and the `chlorodyne scare' in particular made clear. But this was a question of availability and the limitation of sale rather than of disease and treatment. For the middle-class morphine addict there was medical care and expensive in-patient treatment; working-class addiction was mostly a matter of curtailment of supply.
The idea of the exclusive addict denied, too, any possibility of alternative patterns of consumption. The existence of the moderate stable addict, the consumer who could exist without apparent personal or physical deterioration for years on the same level dose of the drug, had been accepted unquestioningly even by the earlier medical writers on the subject. In fact, the whole debate on opium eating and longevity had presupposed the existence of just such a class of addict. But disease theories encompassed the moderate as much as the uncontrolled addict. Allbutt himself, who had had a patient who took a grain of opium every morning and evening for the last fifteen years of his life and who was `never ... so presumptuous as to endeavour to suppress' the habit, nevertheless concluded that `the familiar use of opium in any form is to play with fire, and probably to catch fire' .26
Views like his were not unquestioningly accepted. Discussion of moderate addicts was conspicuous in debates over the IndoChinese opium trade; there is evidence that many doctors agreed with the opinion of Dr C. R. Francis in 1882. Dr Francis quoted the case of a friend who was a stable addict. `Yielding to the popular prejudice against opium-eating, Mr A. has repeatedly endeavoured to break it off ... Doubtless he would succeed in time, as others have, but cui bono? He enjoys excellent health, is able to do a good day's work (mental as well as physical), and is entirely free from a variety of minor troubles having a nervous origin which used to annoy him before he began the opium.'27 Moderate as much as uncontrolled addicts were equally diseased. Medical intervention was appropriate even if, as many of the case histories demonstrated, the addict lived a normal life in every other respect.
Disease theories, far from marking a step towards greater scientific awareness and analysis of the roots of dependence on narcotics, in many respects marked a closing of avenues, a narrower vision than before. The theories themselves were a hotch-potch of borrowings from developing medical science and established morality. The lack of definition of the term `addiction' itself emphasized this. Even by the early years of the twentieth century, few specialists cared to use the term. Dr Huntley did so. Others still used `inebriety', morphinomania, morphinism or opium eating; the morphia habit and morphia habitues were common. Drug or morphine addiction was not in wider usage until the years before the First World War. Specialists in inebriety disseminated a confused and illogical series of opinions masquerading as theory. A continuing belief in free will and individual responsibility coexisted uneasily with the model of disease and infection which doctors sought to impose. The condition could be self-induced and yet also be the result of hereditary defect; it was nevertheless somehow still, in medical eyes, a doctor's proper responsibility._ Morality and medical science should apparently have been at odds; yet disease theory was very much a mixture of the two. The addict's sickness was mental; his `neurosis' was in effect a deviation from the norms of established society, even though doctors rigorously excluded the social dimensions of addiction from their own disease formulation.
Disease theory had its effect, too, on methods of treatment. It was, in fact, the elaboration of such medical attitudes to addiction which, of necessity, entailed a parallel emphasis on control and cure of the addict. In the first half of the century, in the absence of any developed disease view, the question of treatment had barely been considered, although Christison and those who saw opium eating as compatible with longevity also saw nothing inhumane in abrupt and immediate withdrawal 28 Categorization of the condition as a bad habit justified some degree of punishment; and the continuing moral element in developing disease theories ensured an increased emphasis on abrupt methods. This originated in the work of the continental experts - Levinstein's description, in his Morbid Craving for Morphia, of the addict's treatment, confined in a locked and barred room and guarded night and day by (preferably male) warder-nurses, was particularly memorable.29 The abrupt method was originally much favoured by English addiction specialists; it became known in some circles as the `English treatment'. 30 Ironically enough, those who presumed to deal with the condition within a framework of greater scientific objectivity and medical progress adopted methods entailing a fair degree of moral reprobation. The general move to abrupt withdrawal in fact implied a stricter moral reaction than the earlier treatment regimes. Dr J. Clarke of Leicester, recounting the case a a doctor's wife injecting twenty grains of morphine a day, from whom he had withdrawn the drug suddenly and abruptly, advised this procedure, even though the patient herself had wanted gradual withdrawal and had proved `rebellious ... loading me with invective at each visit, asserting her increasing pain and exhaustion ...'.31 The expanding group of doctors with an interest in treatment regimes agreed with him; the moral response was nowhere more plainly demonstrated.
Rapid reduction over two or three days was advocated by Erlenmeyer; gradual reduction over a longer period was also increasingly popular and was associated with Dr J. B. Mattison, Director of the Brooklyn Home for Narcotic Inebriates in New York, and with Dr Oscar Jennings. The abrupt method was never completely abandoned. In 1910, Dr C. A. McBride, Superintendent of the Norwood Sanatorium, still considered it `the most satisfactory of all... sh ort, sharp and decisive'.32 But it was increasingly recognized that such methods were usable only in cases where the habit was of recent origin, or the addict young and strong enough to bear them. Rapid, semi-rapid or gradual methods were more popular; and drug treatments widely used. Other disease entities involved drug regimes; and the search for a pharmacological antidote to the addiction disease was also under way. Addiction was often still seen in the medical texts as a form of poisoning -'acute poisoning' described accidental or conscious overdosing, `chronic poisoning' the establishment of dependence on opium or morphine. Drug treatments were therefore sometimes surprisingly close to methods of dealing with an opium overdose. Drs McBride and Mary Strangman, advocating atropine in the 1900s, were only adopting a commonly-used method of treating opium poisoning. 33
The number and variety of alternative drug treatments increased considerably in the last decades of the century; the controversies between advocates of different regimes were intense and often acrimonious. Tedious and repetitive in detail as they sometimes were, grandiose in the claims advanced for rival methods, they nevertheless demonstrated a form of collective professional self-affirmation. The scientific nature of medical concepts was somehow underlined by increasing specialization and the emergence of different schools of thought. Many English specialists favoured the use of bromides. Norman Kerr, originally a devotee of abrupt methods, but a convert to gradual diminution over a period of a month or five weeks, used potassium and sodium bromide to subdue nervous irritability. Allbutt and Dixon recommended bromides with caffeine; Mattison used, for sleep, bromides, codeine and cannabis indica. Neil Macleod described in the 1890s how bromide poisoning had cured cases of opium addiction. Some doctors favoured cannabis as an alternative. Obersteiner thought coca a suitable treatment; Erlenmeyer favoured chloral. Even the newly discovered heroin found its place in treatment regimes. Methods rose and declined with surprising rapidity. Cocaine, much valued in the 1880s, was the subject of dire medical warnings by the early 1900s.34
That the subject could give rise to such heated debate was itself proof of its definition as a separate specialist entity and of the value of the medical contributions made within it. Yet the drug treatment for the addiction disease was accompanied, like the disease theory itself, by a continuing moral side. The analysis of the condition had emphasized the addict's deviation from acceptable social norms. Treatment, by way of reaction to this, placed emphasis on those same values of society. Self-control and selfhelp were consequently important. The patient's condition was seen to a large extent as the result of personal moral failure; cure should involve the cultivation of changes in personal characteristics. To this end, experts like Crichton Miller recommended treatment by the combined method, both medical and moral. Hypnotism enjoyed a vogue; and Kerr, too, emphasized the 'bracing-up' of self-control. The inebriate's conscience was to be approached by the inculcation of family and community duties. `In opium inebriety,' as he noted, `religion has wrought marvels.'35 Jennings, too, favoured a moral as much as a medical approach. His writings were marked by an increasing emphasis on the personal qualities of the addict rather than on the purely medical drug treatment necessary. The Morphia Habit and its Voluntary Renunciation and The Re-Education of Self-Control in the Treatment of the Morphia Habit were his later works. Affirming that the success of therapeutic measures depended on the mentality of the patient, Jennings saw the restoration of will as most important. The `re-education of impulsivity' was what mattered. Sainsbury, too, emphasized the remoulding of character - `first in order of treatment will be the personal appeal, by any and every means adapted to reach the higher nature of the sufferer, whose will-power, buried under a heap of collapsed intentions and broken purposes, must be dug out'.36 The moral leadership of the specialist, too, was crucial in intractable cases. In the last resort `scientific' treatment rested on moral concepts and the inculcation of self-control.
Treatment methods remained a mixture of the physiological and the psychological. Physical antidotes were recommended - it was not uncommon, for instance, for the removal of decayed teeth to be suggested, should the pain from them be an exciting cause of morphinism. Kerr proposed the wearing of flannel next to the skin, should the exciting cause be depression from exposure to cold. Many suggestions within the treatment regimes were social rather than medical. Activities which reflected acceptable social values were recommended. The values of air, exercise, cleanliness (Turkish baths in particular) and activity were recognized, together with `very moderate and progressive cycling, or automobiling'.
There even remained a place for self-treatment and quack remedies. Commercial entrepreneurs devised saleable packages which continued the opium/alcohol connection. The 'Normyl' cure for Alcohol and Drug Addictions (twenty-four days' medicine in twenty-four bottles) was composed of 75 per cent alcohol with strychnine. The Teetolia Treatment ('After years of Drink and Drug Taking - cured in four days') had alcohol and quinine. There were the Keeley Cure and the St George Association for the Cure of the Morphia Habit, a cure itself based on morphia with a large amount of salicylic acid. The Turvey Treatment for Alcoholism and Narcomania-`earning the gratitude of the nation, the support of the Ministry, the thankfulness of hundreds of our most successful business and literary men of the day' - offered a treatise together with a private consultation.37 None quite matched the imaginativeness of Dr Kane who, in America, was publicizing his De Quincey home method.
Kane was a medical man with an established reputation in the discussion of disease theories and methods of treatment. In England, too, on occasion the dividing line between quackery and mainstream medical science could still be unclear. Medical enthusiasm for `quack remedies' was one example. There was Hopeine (morphia, coloured with oil of hops) and Argemone Mexicana. But in England, strongest medical interest was reserved for the Malayan anti-opium plant, or Combretum sundaicum. Interest was for a time intense. But, as Jennings pointed out, the only active principle contained in the leaves was a small amount of tannin; medical use of the drug seems to have died out as its inutility was demonstrated.38
McBride had hoped that the Malayan plant could be used in some form of out-patient rather than in-patient treatment. His hopes were disappointed; and the development of disease theory was in general accompanied by a strong institutional trend, a desire to segregate the addict which had its parallel in custodial treatment of the insane, criminals and the poor.39 The only advocacy of greater control of the user of opium and some form of consistent professional intervention prior to the last quarter of the century had come from within the public health movement. Professor Alfred Taylor had suggested to the Select Committee on the sale of Poisons Bill in 1857 that those consumers who needed regular doses of opium should be issued with a certificate which would last for six months and would be used to obtain supplies from chemists in the neighbourhood. This view gained some support among other professional witnesses to the Committee, but was never at this stage put into practice. Control of the user of the drug in this way was a twentieth-century phenomenon. In the late nineteenth century, it was directly institutional control which was favoured. The German experts on addiction had recommended . institutional confinement - Levinstein, for instance, had his own morphine institution in Berlin in the 1870s - and from the beginning of discussion of treatment methods in England there were moves towards confinement. Abrupt withdrawal on a long sea voyage was one procedure .40 W. E. Gladstone's addicted sister Helen was sent to Germany as part of her cure. The necessity of physical confinement of the addict and disciplinary treatment were themes running through most discussions from the 1 880s to the First World War. Addiction specialists were virtually unanimous in wishing to enlarge the area of medical control; it was rare to find one who argued against the use of retreats or asylums.
But efforts to extend this treatment advice into a full-scale system of established control met with some difficulty. Action under the Inebriates Acts and in particular attempts compulsorily to confine non-criminal addicts met with only a limited amount of success. Despite the textbook equation of alcoholic with narcotic inebriety, the legislative terms `habitual drunkard' and `inebriate' (the term established, largely at medical suggestion, by the 1888 Inebriates Act) covered only liquor which was drunk. Both the 1879 Habitual Drunkards Act and the 1888 Act provided for the voluntary detention of inebriates in retreats established under the Act and licensed by government-appointed inspectors. But the definition of `intoxicating liquor' under the Act covered only that which was drunk, and not the injected drug. This was a point which became clear as the result of a number of cases in the 1890s. In 1893, for instance, it was established, as the result of a Liverpool case, that chlorodyne was included as an intoxicating liquor within the meaning of Section 3 of the Act.41 It soon became clear that the injected drug did not. In 1889, Charles Park, a dentist from Morayshire, was admitted to High Shot House at St Margaret's Twickenham after requesting treatment for drug taking under the Inebriates Act. But Park was injecting morphia as well as cocaine. When he assaulted an attendant and broke out of the home, the Superintendent found it legally impossible to force his return .42 Existing legislation certainly did not cover the intractable injecting addict who refused to accept the medical definition of the needs of his condition.
There had always been an element of compulsion within the system - although committal was voluntary, once the patient had entered the retreat, he was committed for quite a considerable period. Detention was never for less than six months. A year was said to be necessary in ordinary cases, and sometimes even two years if the habit was deeply rooted. If the addict (or alcoholic) escaped during that period, he could be brought back, as the Twickenham case demonstrated. There were attempts to strengthen this element of compulsion. The eugenic influence in general scientific thinking, and in disease theory in particular, brought with it a trend towards compulsory segregation, also manifested in the continuing contemporary discussion of the forcible segregation in labour colonies of the unemployed and 'undeserving' poor. Social Darwinist thought put forward policies of `conscious social selection' to eliminate the unfit. From the late 1880s, British medical men were arguing for the establishment of compulsory committal under the Inebriates Act, and also for the extension of that term to cover injected drugs as well as those which were drunk. The Inebriates Legislation Committee of the British Medical Association and the Society for the Study of Inebriety were the main propagandist bodies, Norman Kerr the link between the two.
Throughout the 1890s and early 1900s, Kerr argued the case for compulsion and extension of definition before numerous official committees. The dimensions of the problem, as with hypodermic morphine, were never established. In 1892, the Inebriates Legislation Committee of the B.M.A. for the first time began to press for the inclusion within the Act of `forms of intoxication other than the alcoholic form. Chloral, opium and other varieties of habitual drunkenness ...'.43 The Committee, chaired at this time by Norman Kerr, presented evidence to the Departmental Committee on the Treatment of Inebriates in the following year which argued both for compulsory committal of habitual drunkards and for `provision for the care and detention of inebriates in opium, morphine, chloral, chloroform, ether, cocaine or any other narcotic'.44 Kerr, who had been in favour of compulsory detention since the 1 880s, argued the case before the Committee and cited American experience in its favour. But only the principle of compulsion was accepted in the Committee's 1894 report; and compulsory committal for criminal inebriates alone was part of the subsequent Inebriates Act.45
It was left to a private member's Bill to make the first effort at inclusion of drug-taking. In 1901, an abortive Bill was introduced by Dr Farquharson, a member of the Inebriates Legislation Committee, which would have amended the term `habitual drunkard' to include `a person who, not being amenable to any jurisdiction in lunacy, is notwithstanding, by reason of habitual use of opium or any other drug, at times dangerous to himself or others, or incapable of managing himself and his affairs'.48 The Bill was withdrawn, but the principles advocated by the medical profession were finally accepted by the 19o8 Departmental Committee on the Inebriates Acts. This accepted that habitual drunkenness should cover drug-taking as well as drinking and suggested the establishment of a form of gradual compulsion. It was to be possible for an inebriate to make a voluntary application for the appointment of a guardian. The guardian would decide where the inebriate was to live, deprive him of intoxicants and warn sellers of drink and drugs against supplying him. In 1903 it had been considered whether the 1902 Licensing Act, which dealt with the sale of intoxicating liquor to habitual drunkards, could be applied to the sale of drugs to addicts. The matter had proceeded no further; but the proposal reappeared in the 19o8 report, where supply after warning to any form of inebriate was to be an offence against the Act. If, too, in the guardian's opinion, his powers of control were insufficient, provision was to be made for compulsory measures to be taken .47
The proposal was an interesting one, to be unearthed again during the discussions of the Rolleston Committee on Morphine and Heroin Addiction, when Dr Branthwaite, a committee member and an ex-inspector under the Inebriates Acts, suggested the institution of a form of legal guardianship. But by 19o8, the use of inebriates legislation to extend medical control in the area of drug taking was already a faint hope. Several inebriates Bills were introduced between 1912 and 1914 conferring both guardianship and gradual compulsion and extension of definition. None were successful; and the whole question of inebriety was, even before that date, being increasingly incorporated within the bounds of lunacy legislation. The idea of guardianship had in fact originated in the lunacy laws. It had long been possible to confine both drunkards and drug-takers made certifiably insane by their habits. Section 116 of the 1890 Lunacy Act had allowed a form of guardianship, too, which was on occasion applied to drug addicts. The Lord Chancellor's Visitor dealt with both lunatics found by inquisition and with those not so found. In either case, an order could be made for `the commitment of the estate of the lunatic . . .'. The person dealt with, according to Section 116, did not have to be certifiable, but simply `through infirmity arising from disease or age incapable of managing his affairs'.48 Such provision had allowed for the control of the property of addicts; and in the 1900s, the British Medical Association began to press not simply for an extension of the Inebriates Acts, but for all this rather piecemeal legislation to be brought within the ambit of the lunacy laws. Legislative rationalization in part, this was also confirmation of the deviance of drug-taking already marked in disease theories.
The influence of the idea of `moral insanity' continued to be strong. Dr James Smith Whitaker, Secretary of the British Medical Association (and later a member of the Rolleston Committee), recommending the extension of the duties of the Board of Commissioners of Lunacy to habitual inebriety and drug habits before the Royal Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-Minded in 19o8, argued that drug habits could be classified as cases of unconfirmed mental disease and brought either under guardianship or compulsory committal - `the whole procedure,' he considered, `should be made analogous to that under the Lunacy Acts, with suitable modification in recognition of the fact that the persons in question are not insane, though suffering from moral infirmity'. The 1913 Mental Deficiency Act did indeed include `any sedative, narcotic or stimulant drug or preparation' within the definition of `intoxicant'. Such `moral imbeciles' could be sent to an institution for defectives or placed under guardianship.49
This was a clear outcome of the custodial influence within the eugenic movement, the desire to control and regulate not just the demonstrably insane, but those whose `feeble-mindedness' was in some cases demonstrated only by a refusal to conform to established values. Smith Whitaker had argued d for the inclusion of drug-taking within the lunacy model on the grounds that this would do away with any possible compulsory criminal committal. Compulsion was in fact to be applied to all - but in his eyes, the medical certification required was adequate safeguard for the patient. The argument of possible criminal committal - of addiction dealt with within a penal model - was used to extend the area of medical control and to substitute a system of medical treatment little different in many respects from a prison regime.
Prison appears to have been in reality a very minor way of dealing with addicts. In 1896, for instance, the Scottish prison commissioners reported two cases treated in prison in Glasgow for the morphia habit.50 Many addicts could have been sent to prison for offences unconnected with their condition. The absence
of published medical comment on the incidence of prison confinement of addicts was an indication possibly of its relative rarity and, too, of lack of medical interest in the non-professional side of the question. It was mostly the working-class addicts who went to prison.
Confinement in lunatic asylums prior to_ 1914 was also quite rare., 51 Institutional confinement, for all practical purposes in this period, was limited to the voluntary facilities provided by the Homes for Inebriates Association and government-inspected by Home Office appointees under the Acts. Fourteen homes were licensed under the Acts by 1898, although not all took drug addicts. The Dalrymple Home at Rickmansworth, founded in 1884 after a public meeting at the Mansion House in 1882 had set up the Association of the Dalrymple Home for Inebriates (later the Homes for Inebriates Association), was the most important and took in the largest number of addicts .62 Kerr, consulting physician at the Home, had argued strongly for it; his view was that inebriates should be treated in special homes, not in lunatic asylums. Theory and practice neatly coincided and the establishment of the Home gave added weight to medical views. Two of its medical superintendents, Dr Branthwaite and Dr Hogg, were influential not only in pre-war discussions of inebriety and lunacy, but later, too, in the 1920s, when they were prominent in the Rolleston deliberations. The regime of the Home had clear overtones of social control and the re-moulding of character and habits which had characterized the textbook discussions."
Expanding private provision offered little for the narcotic addict without fairly substantial means. Like disease theory itself, treatment facilities were limited to professional people. Fees at the Dalrymple Home varied between two and five guineas a week, and an analysis of patients by social class (not, in this instance, limited to drug addicts) shows solicitors, doctors and actors with, at the very lowest, clerks and a tailor.54 This was a matter of some concern to those involved in the Act's operation. Kerr, who saw the lack of provision for the poor as `a national reproach', recommended the establishment of industrial homes for the treatment of inebriety, where the poor inebriate could be put to work while undergoing his cure.55 The treatment and confinement of the working-class addicts evoked, as in Kerr's case, a harsher response; and the demands for compulsory committal derived part of their vigour from recognition of this lack in existing legislation. Medical control over such addicts was always limited in extent. Those who did enter homes found they could barely afford them. One case reported in the British Medical Journal in 1904 concerned a female chlorodyne addict in a home which cost her brother seven shillings a week.56 But there was no public institution for the purpose apart from voluntary committal in a lunatic asylum or confinement in the workhouse. For the pauper addict, there was little alternative.
Disease theory was perceived by the expanding medical profession as a move to throw the light of scientific theory into an area characterized by outmoded moral judgements. Their medical ideology retained more than a trace of its moral ancestry. It excluded social in favour of individualist and biologically determinist explanations; yet in its operation and in the thinking of addiction specialists, it resolutely emphasized social values. It acted not simply as an agency of social control, but as one of social assimilation, in which symptoms were defined in terms of deviations from the norm and treatment involved inculcation in the values of conformity and self-help. Scientific theory and medical selfinterest coincided in mediating social norms. The elaboration of theory and of treatment structures was also part of the process of class and professional self-affirmation. The addict was separated out as a distinctive type which only the medical profession was competent to treat. The reality of the condition was affirmed, but medical values were not scientifically autonomous; and the moral and class analysis which, reformulated, lay at the basis of disease theory justified increased medical intervention where the profession apparently even by the end of the century had little to offer.

References

1. The question of the social rooting of medical ideology is discussed in K. Figlio, `Chlorosis and chronic disease in nineteenth-century Britain: the social constitution of somatic illness in a capitalist society', Social History, 3 (1978), pp. 167-97
2. See also Anon., Advice to Opium Eaters, op. cit., written by an exaddict.
3. For details of the different modes of treatment, see, for instance, Basham, `Case of delirium tremens from opium-eating; improved general health, but terminating in dementia', Lancet, r (x846), pp. 254-6; also ibid., r (1838-9), p. 68o; and J. Vaughan Hughes, `An opium eater', Lancet, 2 (1859), P• 439.
4. W. Whalley, `Confessions of a laudanum drinker', Lancet, 2 (1866), P. 35, where the patient's family decided on maintenance doses. A similar case was reported to the Select Committee on Drunkenness, P.P. 1834, V I I I, op. cit., q. 1288.
5. T. D. Crothers, op. cit.,; and J. B. Mattison, op. cit.
6. N. Kerr, Inebriety, its Etiology, Pathology, Treatment and Jurisprudence (London, H. K. Lewis, 2nd edn 1889).
7. Atypical example is the section on `morphinism' by Thomas Stevenson in R. Quain, ed., A Dictionary of Medicine (London, Longmans, 1894), vol. 2, p. 157.
8. T. C. Allbutt (1897), op. Cit., p. 886; J. White `The habit of opiumtaking as induced by hypodermic injections', British Medical journal, 1 (1887), p. 627.
9. As in `Tolerance of large doses of morphine', British Medical Journal, r (1888), p. 449.
10. E. Levinstein, op. cit., p. 107.
11. N. Kerr, op. cit., p. 64; N. Kerr, `Opening address to the Colonial and International Congress on Inebriety', Proceedings of the Society for the Study of Inebriety, 13 (1887), PP. 1-3•
12. Brian Harrison makes this point about the influence of temperance thinking on disease views of alcoholism in his Drink and the Victorians (London, Faber and Faber,1971), p. 371. W. F. Bynum's `Chronic alcoholism in the first half of the nineteenth century', Bulletin of the History of Medicine, 42 (1968), pp. ,6o-85, also makes the point that most scientific studies were continental in origin. See also H. G. Levine, `The discovery of addiction; changing conceptions of habitual drunkenness in America', Journal of Studies on Alcohol, 39 (1978), pp. 143-74.
13. `Inebriety and volition', Proceedings of the Society for the Study and Cure of Inebriety, r (1884), p. 40.
14. T. S. Clouston, `Diseased cravings and paralysed control: dipsomania; morphinomania; chloralism; cocainism', Edinburgh Medical Journal, 35 (1890), pp. 508-21, 689-705, 793-809, 985-96.
15. T. C. Allbutt (1897), op. cit., pp. 889-90. See also B. W. Richardson (1883), OP. Cit., p. 1194.
16. T. S. Clouston, op. cit., p. 793.
17. T. D. Crothers, op. cit., p. 11o; O. Jennings, The Morphia Habit and its Voluntary Renunciation, op. cit., p. 5. See also R. Armstrong-Jones (1915), op. cit., P• 54.
18. N. Kerr (1889), op. cit., p. 149.
19. H. Sainsbury, Drugs and the Drug Habit (London, Methuen, 1909), p. 260.
20. T. C. Allbutt and H. D. Rolleston, eds., A System of Medicine (London, Macmillan, 1906), vol. 2. See also P.P. 19o8, XXXV: Royal Commission on the Care and Control of the Feeble-minded, q. 3983
2L G. R. Searle, Eugenics and Politics in Britain, 1900-1914 (Leyden, Noordhoff Publishing Co., 1976), p. 59, notes that it was the professional middle class which was the prime concern of the eugenics movement.
22. J. St Thomas Clarke, Letter, British Medical Journal, 2 (1882), p.540. 23. T. D. Crothers, op. cit., p. 6o.
24. E. M. Jellinek, The Disease Concept of Alcoholism (New Haven, Connecticut, Hill House Press, 1960), p. 193
25. R. Armstrong-Jones, `Drugs of Addiction', Morning Post, 10 June 1914.
26. T. C. Allbutt (1897), op. cit., p. 884. See also W. Huntley, `Opium addiction: is it a disease?', Proceedings of the Society for the Study of Inebriety, 50 (1896), pp. 1-t2; T. S. Clouston (1890), op. cit., p. 796, for similar views.
27. C. R. Francis, `On the value and use of opium', Medical Times and Gazette, r (1882), pp. 87-9 and 116-17. This process has its similarities to the definition of other `exclusive' conditions, prostitution for instance. See J. and D. Walkowitz, `We are not beasts of the field: prostitution and the poor in Plymouth and Southampton under the Contagious Disease Acts', in M. Hartman and L. W. Banner, eds., Clio's Consciousness Raised (New York, Harper and Row, 1974); also J. Weeks, `Sins and diseases: some notes on homosexuality in the nineteenth century', History Workshop, r (1976), pp. 211-19.
28. R. Christison (1850), op. cit., p. 538.
29. E. Levinstein, op. cit., pp. 110-18.
30. According to Allbutt (1897), op. cit.
31. J. St Thomas Clarke, op. cit., p. 540.
32. C. A. McBride, The Modern Treatment of Alcoholism and Drug Narcotism (London, W. Rebman, 1910), p. 280.
33. M. S. P. Strangman, `The atropine treatment of morphinomania and inebriety', Journal of Mental Science, 54 (1908), pp. 727-33.
34. Some of these varied drug `antidotes' are described in N. Macleod, `Morphine habit of long standing cured by bromide poisoning', British Medical Journal, 2 (1897), pp. 76-7; C. A. McBride, op. cit., p. 334J. Kramer, `Heroin in the treatment of morphine addiction,' Journal of Psychedelic Drugs, 9 (1977), pp. 193-7, casts doubt on whether heroin was in fact ever much used for this purpose in American medical practice. See also `The use of cocaine in the morphia habit; a warning', Lancet, 2 (1907), p. 811.
35. N. Kerr (1889), op. Cit., p. 295; H. Crichton Miller, `The treatment of morphinomania by the "combined" method', British Medical Journal, 2 (1910), pp. 1595-7.
36. H. Sainsbury, op. cit., p. 285.
37. These cures were surveyed and criticized in the two British Medical Association reports on patent remedies, British Medical Association (1909), op. cit., pp. 166-8, and (1912), op. Cit., pp. 137, 14o. The Turvey Treatment was regularly advertised in The Times, e.g. on 6 October 1914.
38. There were reports on the plant in all the leading professional journals, e.g. 'Combretum sundaicum', Pharmaceutical Journal, 4th ser. 25 (1907), p. 566; also C. A. McBride, op. cit., p. 366.
39. For similar processes at work in other areas of `deviance', see D. Rothman, The Discovery of the Asylum: Social Order and Disorder in the New Republic (Boston, Little, Brown, 1971); G. Steadman Jones, Outcast London. A Study in the Relationship between Classes in Victorian Society (Oxford University Press, 1971); and A. T. Scull, `Museums of madness; the social organization of insanity in nineteenth century England' (unpublished Princeton Ph.D. thesis, 1974). R. M. MacLeod, `The edge of hope; social policy and chronic alcoholism, 1870-1900', Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences, 22 (1967), pp. 215-45, surveys the developments in inebriates legislation and institutional confinement from the point of view of alcohol. See also M. Ignatieff, A just
Measure of Pain. The Penitentiary in the Industrial Revolution 1750-1850
(London, Macmillan, 1978).
40. `Hospitals for morphinism', British Medical Journal, r (1885), PP. 55, 266.
41. Home Office papers, H.O. 45, 10454.
42. H.O. 45, 9989.
43. `Report of the Inebriates Legislation Committee', British Medical Journal, 2 (1892), p. 19o.
44. P.P. 1893-4, XVII: Report from the Departmental Committee on the Treatment of Inebriates, Appendix 2, `Memorial from the Inebriates Legislation Committee of the B.M.A.'. Norman Kerr's evidence to the Committee also made this point.
45. H.O. 45, 10225, Home Office memorandum on 1898 Bill, and 61 and 62 Vict. ch. 60, 1898: An Act to Provide for the Treatment of Habitual Inebriates. Deputations from the B.M.A. and the S.S.I. had seen the Home Secretary in 1894 and 1895 asking for the inclusion of all drugtakers, and evidence on this point was also given to the 1895 Committee on Habitual Offenders.
46. P.P. 1900, II: A Bill to Amend the Inebriates Act, 1879 to 1899, and to Make Further Provision for the Control and Cure of Habitual Inebriates.
47. H.O. 45, 10454, contains discussion of the possible use of the 1902 Licensing Act. See also P.P. 1908, XII: Departmental Committee on the Inebriates Act, pp. 830-32.
48. 1890 Lunacy Act, 53 and 54 Vict. ch. 5, Sect. 108(3) and Sect. 116(1) (d).
49. P.P. 19o8, XXXV, op. cit., pp. 707-8, and 3 and 4 Geo. V ch. 28., 1913 Mental Deficiency Act.
50. Quoted in P. P. 1896, X L IV: Eighteenth Report of the Prison Commissioners for Scotland, p. 858. Published prison statistics, however, did not generally itemize such cases separately. Only where the prisoner was classified as insane and in need of treatment was a drug habit revealed.
51. This is demonstrated by the small numbers admitted in Bethlem Royal Hospital. See Bethlem Admission Registers, 1857-93, and R. Armstrong-Jones (1902), op. Cit., PP. 491-5, and (1915) op. cit., PP. 42-53
52. Described at its inception in British Medical Journal, I (188i), p. 594• 53. Homes for Inebriates Association, Annual Report, 1885-6, p. 19. 54. P.P. 1890-91, X I X : Report of the Inspector of Retreats under the Habitual Drunkards Act, 1879.
55. N. Kerr (1889), op. Cit., p. 387.
56. `Treatment of the chlorodyne habit', British Medical journal, r (1904), P. 932.