Part 11 (1/2)
is on the same plan, in all essential respects, with that of Boston; and the reports show about the same average of cures and beneficial results.
How the patient is treated in this Home may be inferred from the following extract from an article on ”The Cause, Effect and Cure of Inebriety,” from the pen of Prof. D. Wilkins, the superintendent, which appeared in a late number of _The Quarterly Journal of Inebriety_. In answer to the question, How can we best save the poor drunkard, and restore him to his manhood, his family and society, he says:
”Money, friends, relatives and all have forsaken him, his hope blasted, his ambition gone, and he feels that no one has confidence in him, no one cares for him. In this condition he wends his way to an inst.i.tution of reform, a penniless, homeless, degraded, lost and hopeless drunkard.
Here is our subject, how shall we save him? He has come from the squalid dens, and lanes of filth, of misery, of want, of debauchery and death; no home, no sympathy and no kind words have greeted him, perhaps, for years. He is taken to the hospital. A few days pa.s.s, and he awakes from the stupidity of drink, and as he opens his eyes, what a change! He looks around, kind and gentle voices welcome him, his bed is clean and soft, the room beautiful, tasteful and pleasant in its arrangements, the superintendent, the physician, the steward and the inmates meet him with a smile and treat him as a brother. He is silent, lost in meditation.
Thoughts of other days, of other years, pa.s.s through his mind in quick succession as the tears steal gently down his cheeks. He talks thus to himself: 'I am mistaken. _Somebody does care_ for the drunkard. And if somebody cares for me, _I ought to care for myself_.' Here reform first commences. In a few days, when free, to some extent, from alcohol, he is admitted to the freedom of the inst.i.tution. As he enters the reading-room, the library, the amus.e.m.e.nt, the gymnasium, dining-room and s.p.a.cious halls, the conviction becomes stronger and stronger that somebody is interested in the inebriate, and he should be interested in himself. Then comes the lessons of the superintendent. He is taught that he cannot be reformed, but that he can reform himself. That G.o.d helps those only who help themselves. That he must ignore all boon companions of the cup as a.s.sociates, all places where liquor is kept and sold, that, in order to reform himself, he must become a reformer, labor for the good of his brother; in short, he must shun every rivulet that leads him into the stream of intemperance, and as a cap-stone which completes the arch, that he must look to Him from whence cometh all grace and power to help in time of need.
”As he converses with those that are strong in experience, listens to the reading of the Holy Scriptures in the morning devotions, joins in the sweet songs of Zion and unites in unison with his brother inmates in saying the Lord's Prayer, as he hears the strong experiences in the public meetings and secret a.s.sociations of those who have remained firm for one, two, three, and up to ten or fifteen years, little by little his confidence is strengthened, and almost before he is aware, the firm determination is formed and the resolve made, _I will drink no more_. As week after week, and month after month, glides pleasantly away, these resolutions become stronger and stronger, and by thus educating his intellect and strengthening his moral power, the once hopeless, disheartened and helpless one regains his former manhood and lost confidence, and becomes a, moral, independent, reformed man. Perhaps the most difficult thing in this work of reform, is to convince our inmates that resolving to stop drinking, or even stopping drinking for the time being, is not reforming. Those admitted, generally, in about two weeks, under the direction of a skillful physician, and the nursing of a faithful steward, recover so as to sleep well and eat heartily, and their wills, seemingly, are as strong as ever. Feeling thus, they often leave the inst.i.tution, sobered up, not reformed, and when the periodical time arrives, or temptation comes, they have no moral power to resist, and they rush back to habits of intoxication. They forget that the will is like a door on its hinges, with the animal desires, appet.i.tes, evil inclinations and pa.s.sions attached to one side, leading them into trouble and making them unhappy, unless they are held by the strong power of the sense of moral right attached to the other side, and that for years they have been stifling and weakening this power, until its strength is almost, if not entirely, gone, and that the only way they can possibly strengthen it, independent of the grace of G.o.d, is by education, moral light and testing it under circ.u.mstances so favorable that it will not yield. It took years of disobedience to destroy the moral power, and it will take years of obedience to restore it again.
The inebriate must be taught that he can refrain from drink only as he strengthens this moral power, and this requires time and trial. Here is just where we, as superintendents, or reformers, a.s.sume great responsibility. To understand just when to test, and how much temptation can be resisted by those under our charge, requires much wisdom and great experience.”
From this extract the reader will learn something of the influences which are brought to bear upon the inmates of a home for the reformation of inebriates; and he will see how much reliance is placed on moral and religious agencies.
TESTIMONY OF THE REFORMED.
From the Chicago Home is issued a monthly paper called _The Was.h.i.+ngtonian_, devoted to the interest of the inst.i.tution and to temperance. In this appear many communications from those who are, or have been, inmates. We make a few selections from some of these, which will be read with interest:
”When I came into the Home, mind, memory, hope and energy were shattered. The only animating thought remaining to me was a misty speculation as to where the next drink was to come from. I had a kind of feeble perception that a few days more of the life I was leading must end my earthly career, but I didn't care. As to the 'hereafter'--that might take care of itself; I had no energy to make any provision for it.
”To-day, how different! A new man, utterly defiant of the devil and all 'his works and pomps,' I am ready and eager to take my place once more in the battle of life; atone for the miserable time gone by; to take again the place in the world I had forfeited, bearing ever in my breast the beautiful maxims of the German poet and philosopher, Schiller: 'Look not sorrowfully into the past; it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present; it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear, and with a manly heart.'”
Another writes: ”I have been true and faithful to my promise, and have not touched or tampered with the curse since the first morning I entered the Home, ten months ago to-day, and, Mr. Superintendent, I shall never drink again as long as I live. My whole trust and hope is in G.o.d, who made me live, move and have my being; and as long as I trust in Him--and which I am thoroughly satisfied I always shall--I will be crowned with success in each and every good effort I make. * * * The day I reached here, my little ones were out of town, but were telegraphed for at once.
They came in the next morning, and, oh! how my heart rejoiced to see they knew and loved me. They came to my arms and threw their little arms around my neck, and hugged and kissed me until I wept with joy. They begged of me never to leave them again, and I never shall. My dear father, mother and all now wish me to stay with them, for they feel I can now be as great a comfort as I once, I might say, was a terror to them. Thank G.o.d, I can prove a comfort to them, and my daily life shall be such that they never can do without me. Praises be to G.o.d for His goodness and mercy to me, and for showing and guiding me in the straight path, that which leadeth, at last, to an everlasting life with. Him and His redeemed in that great and glorious kingdom above.”
Another writes, two years after leaving the Home: ”In different places where I lived, I was generally a moving spirit in everything of a literary character, and, from a naturally social, convivial disposition, enjoyed the conversation and society of literary men over a gla.s.s of beer more than any other attraction that could have been presented. For years, this continued, I, all the time, an active spirit in whatever church I was a member of, and an active worker in whatever I engaged in, thereby always commanding a prominent position wherever I was. Thus matters progressed till I was about twenty-seven, and then I began to realize my position; but, alas, when it was too late. The kindly admonition of friends and my own intelligence began to tell me the story, and then how I struggled for months and months--a naturally sensitive nature only making me worse--till, at last, the conviction forced itself upon me that, for me there was no redemption, that I was bound, hand and foot, perfectly powerless, and then I was forced to accept the fact. My only desire then was to save those dear to me from any knowledge of the truth; for this reason I chose Chicago for my home.
Not wis.h.i.+ng to take my own life in my hands, I was simply waiting for the moment when, having gone lower and lower, it would, at last, please G.o.d to relieve me of my earthly sufferings. Oh! the mental agonies I endured! Too true is it that the drunkard carries his h.e.l.l around with him. At any moment I was perfectly willing to die, perfectly willing to trust whatever might be before me in the other world, feeling it could be no worse. At last, by G.o.d's grace, I was directed to the 'Was.h.i.+ngtonian Home,' and there, for the first time, I learned that I could be free; and in this knowledge lies the power of the Home. The Home took hold of me and bade me be a man, and directed me to G.o.d for help; and, at the same time, told me to work out my own salvation. Its teachings were not in vain; and to-day I can look up and ask G.o.d's blessing on you all for your kind labors. But for that Home, I should, to-day, have been filling a dishonored grave.”
And another says: ”It is now over five years since I applied to Mr.
Drake for admission to the Home. I was then prostrated, both physically and mentally, to that degree that I had scarcely strength to drag myself along, or moral courage enough to look any decent man in the face. I was often a.s.sured that to quit whisky would kill me. I thought there was a probability of that; but, on the other hand, there was a certainty that to continue it would kill me. I resolved to make one more effort and die sober, for I never expected to live; had no hope of that. From the day I entered the Home I have been a changed man. The encouragement and counsel I received there, gave me strength, to keep the resolution I had formed, and which I have kept to the present moment, viz: TO DRINK NO MORE! Ever since I left Chicago, I have held a respectable position; and now hold the princ.i.p.al position in a house of business, the doors of which I was forbidden to enter six years ago. I do not write this in any spirit of self-laudation, but simply to lay the honor where it belongs--at the door of the 'Was.h.i.+ngtonian Home.'”
The following from the ”experience” of one of the inmates of the Chicago ”Home,” will give the reader an idea of the true character of this and similar inst.i.tutions, and of the way in which those who become inmates are treated. A lady who took an interest in the writer, had said to him, ”You had better go to the Was.h.i.+ngtonian Home.” What followed is thus related:
HOW I WAS TREATED IN THE HOME.
”I looked at her in surprise. Send me to a reformatory? I told her that I did not think that I was sunk so low, or bound so fast in the coils of the 'worm of the still,' that it was necessary for me, a young man not yet entered into the prime of manhood, to be confined in a place designed for the cure of habitual drunkards. I had heard vague stories, but nothing definite concerning the Home, and thought that the question was an insult, but I did not reply to the question. All that night my thoughts would revert to the above question. My life past since I had become a devotee of the 'demon of strong drink,' pa.s.sed in review before my mind. What had I gained? How improved? What had I obtained by it? And the answer was nothing. Then I asked myself, What had I lost by it? And the answer came to me with crus.h.i.+ng force, everything that maketh life desirable. Starting out young in years into the busy highways of the world, with a good fortune, bright prospects and a host of friends to aid and cheer me on, I had lost ALL in my love for strong drink, and at times I thought and felt that I was a modern Ishmael.
”The lady, the next morning, again returned to the attack, and then, not thinking it an insult, but a benefit, to be conferred on me, I yielded a willing acquiescence. That same evening, with a slow step and aching head, I walked up Madison Street towards the Was.h.i.+ngtonian Home, with thoughts that I would be considered by the officers of the inst.i.tution as a sort of a felon, or, if not that, at least something very near akin to the brute, and it was with a sinking heart that I pushed open the main door and ascended the broad, easy stairs to the office. I asked if the superintendent was in, and the gentlemanly clerk at the desk told me that he was, and would be down immediately, meanwhile telling me to be seated. After the lapse of a few minutes, the superintendent, Mr.
Wilkins, came into the office, his countenance beaming with benevolence.
He took the card that I had brought with me, read it, and, turning round to where I sat, with a genial smile lighting up his countenance, with outstretched hand, greeted me most kindly and introduced me to the gentlemen present. I was dumbfounded, and it was with great difficulty that I restrained myself from shedding tears. It was the very opposite of the reception that I had pictured that I would receive, and I found that I was to be treated as a human being and not as a brute. With a smile, the superintendent addressed me again, and told me to follow him; and it was with a lighter heart and spirits that I ascended the second flight of stairs than the first, I can a.s.sure you. I was brought to the steward, who also greeted me most kindly, conversed with me a short time, fixed up some medicine for me and then took me into the hospital.
By the word 'hospital,' dear reader, you must not take the usual definition of all that word implies, but in this case, take it as a moderate-sized room with eight or nine beds, covered with snow-white sheets and coverlids, and filled with air of the purest; no sickly smells or suffering pain to offend the most delicate.
”After a most refres.h.i.+ng night's rest--the first that I had had in three or four long, weary months--I arose, and for a few moments could not realize where I was, but memory came back, and I fell on my knees and gave thanks to G.o.d that I had fallen into the hands of the 'Good Samaritans.' After breakfast, I went with great diffidence into the common sitting-room, where there was about ten of the inmates sitting smoking, playing checkers, etc. I did not know how I would be received here, but as soon as I entered I was greeted most kindly and told to make myself at home. It seemed as if my cup was full and running over, and for a few moments I could scarcely speak, and I thought that the inst.i.tution's motto must be founded on the Saviour's command to 'Love one another.'
”The first day I was not allowed to go down to the dining-room, I still being under the care of the hospital steward. The second day I was discharged from the hospital, a.s.signed a most comfortable and cheerful furnished bed-room, and allowed the liberty of the whole building, and the day pa.s.sed pleasantly. The next morning, at about six, I was awakened by the clangor of a bell shaken by a vigorous arm. Hurriedly dressing, I descended to the wash-room and performed my ablutions, and then waited for the next step. Half an hour having elapsed, the bell was rung a second time, and we all entered what is called the service-room.
Shortly after Mr. Wilkins and his family entered; the superintendent read a chapter of the Bible, the inmates sung a hymn, accompanied on the organ by Miss Clara Wilkins; after a short prayer, the inmates marched in single file to the head of the room, where Mr. Wilkins stood, his kind face actually beaming, and with extended hand greeted every individual inmate. After leaving him we marched to the other side of the room, where we also received a cheery 'good morning,' and cordial grasp of the hand from the estimable and motherly wife of the superintendent.