HIS STAUNCH TEETOTALISM.
Perhaps no class of men have suffered more from the evils of
intemperance than our brave sailors, fishermen, and rivermen. Foreigners
tell our missionaries to convert our drunken sailors abroad, and when
they wish to personify an Englishman, they mockingly reel about like a
drunken man. And what lives have been lost through the intemperance of
captains and crews! The 'St. George,' with 550 men: 'The Kent,' 'East
Indiaman,' with most of her passengers and crew: 'The Ajax,' with 350
people: 'The Rothsway Castle,' with 100 men on board, with many others
we might name, were all lost through the drunkenness of those in charge
of the vessels. Of the forty persons whom our friend rescued from
drowning, a very large percentage got overboard through intemperance. We
read that on the morning following the Passover night in Egypt, there
was not a house in which there was not one dead, and it would be
difficult to find a house in our land, occupied by sailors, in which
this monster evil has not slain its victim, either physically or
morally.
[Sidenote: HIS DRUNKEN FATHER.]
Our friend, speaking of his own family, says:--'I owe my Christian name
to the favour with which drunkenness was regarded by my relatives. Soon
after I was born, one of my uncles asked, "What is the lad's name to
be?" "Thomas," replied my mother. "Never," said my uncle, in surprise,
"we had two Thomas's, and they both did badly; call him John. I have
known four John's in the family, and they _were all great drunkards, but
that was the worst that could be said of them_." 'So it appears,' said
our friend, 'that at that time it was thought no very bad thing for a
man to get drunk, if he was not in the habit of being brought before the
magistrate for theft, &c.' John's father was one of the four drunkards.
In early life he became a hard drinker, and he continued the practice
until a damaged constitution, emptied purse, a careworn wife, and a
neglected family, were the bitter fruits of his inebriation. 'He drank
hard,' says John, 'spending almost all his money in drink, and was at
last forced to sell his vessel and take to the menial work of helping to
load and unload vessels. At length he went to sea, and for a long time
we heard nothing of him; nor did my mother receive any money from him.
In old age he was quite destitute, and while it gave me great pleasure
to minister to his necessities, it often grieved me to think of the
cause of his altered circumstances.'
Nightly, when ashore, John, the elder, went to the public house, and it
was his invariable rule never to return home until his wife fetched him.
Often, when Mrs. Ellerthorpe was in a feeble state of health, and amid
the howling winds and drenching rains of a winter's night, would she go
in search of her drunken husband, and by her winning ways and kind
entreaties induce him to return home. She was known to be a God-fearing
woman, and often on the occasion of these visits, her husband's
companions--some of whom were 'tippling professors' of religion--would
try to entangle her in religious conversation, but to every entreaty she
had one reply, 'If you want to talk with me about religion come to my
house. I will not speak of it here; for I am determined never to fight
the devil on his own ground.'
[Sidenote: IMITATES HIS FATHER.]
And was this Christian woman wrong in calling the public house the
devil's ground? We have 140,000 of these houses in our land, and are
they not so many reservoirs from whence the devil floods our country
with crime, wretchedness, and woe? Is it not there that his deluded
victims, in thousands of instances, destroy their fortune, ruin their
health, and form those habits which wither the beauty, scatter the
comforts, blast the reputation, and bury once happy families in the tomb
of disgrace? And is it not at the public house that the sounds of
blasphemy, cursing, and swearing, sedition, uncleanness, laciviousness,
hatred, quarrels, murders, gambling, revelling, and such like, are
begun? And you might as reasonably expect to preserve your health in a
pest-house, your modesty in a brothel, and high-souled principles
amongst gamesters, as to expect to preserve your religious character
undamaged amid the impure atmosphere of a public house. Can a man go
upon hot coals and his feet not be burnt? One hour spent around the
drunkard's table has often done an amount of harm to the cause of God
and the souls of men which the devotion of years could not undo.
[Sidenote: BECOMES A DRUNKARD.]
A youth, on being urged to take the pledge, said, 'My father drinks, and
I don't want to be better than my father.' And, alas! for our friend, he
early imbibed the tastes and followed the example of his father, for
drink got the mastery of him. Speaking of his boyhood, he says, 'I
remember a man saying to my father, "Your son is a sharp lad, and he
will make a clever man, if only you set him a good example, and keep him
from drink." To which my father replied, "O drink will not hurt him; if
he does nothing worse than take a sup of drink he'll be all right; drink
never hurt anyone." But, alas! my father lived to see that a "little
sup" did not serve me, for I have heard him say with sorrow, "The lad
drinks hard." But he was the first to set me the example, and if
parents wish their children to abstain from intoxicating drinks, they
should set the example by being abstainers themselves. The best and most
lasting way of doing good to a family is for parents first to do right
themselves.' But with such a training as John had, what wonder that he
became a 'hard drinker.' For years previous to his marriage his
experience was something like that of an old 'hard-a-weather' on board a
homeward-bound Indiaman, who was asked by a lady passenger, 'Whether he
would not be glad to get home and see his wife and children, and spend
the summer with them in the country?' Poor Jack possessed neither home,
nor wife, nor chick nor child; and his recollections of green fields and
domestic enjoyments were dreamily associated with early childhood. And
hence a big tear rolled down his weather-beaten but manly cheek as he
said to his fair questioner, 'Well, I don't know, I suppose it will be
another _roll in the gutter, and away again_.' Our friend was for years
a 'reeling drunkard,' and often, during this sad period of his
existence, he literally 'rolled in the gutter.'
But when he experienced a saving change he at once became a sober man,
and began to treat public houses after the fashion of the fox in the
fable--who declined the invitation to the lion's den, because he had
observed that the only footsteps in its vicinity were towards it and
none from it. He further saw that to indulge in the use of intoxicating
drinks, and then pray, 'Lead me not into temptation,' savoured less of
piety than of presumption. He attended a temperance meeting at which the
Rev. G. Lamb spoke of the importance of Christian professors abstaining
for the good of others, as well as for their own safety. John felt that
his sphere of action was limited in its range and insignificant in its
character; yet he knew he possessed influence; as a husband and father,
and as a member of civil and religious society, he knew that his
conduct would produce an effect on those to whom he was related, and
with whom he had to do. 'No man liveth to himself.' He knew how to do
good, and not to have done it would have been sin. And that thought
decided him. At the close of the meeting, persons were invited to take
the pledge of total abstinence, but not one responded to the invitation.
John saw, sitting at his right hand, a man who had been a great
drunkard, and whose shattered nerves, unsteady hand, and bloodshot eyes,
told of the sad effects of his conduct. Placing his hand on this man's
shoulder, he said, 'Will you take the pledge?' 'I will if you will,' was
the man's reply. 'Done,' said John, and scarcely had they reached the
platform, when about twenty others followed and took the pledge.
[Sidenote: SIGNS THE PLEDGE.]
His Diary contains this record, 'February 24th, 1851. I have been to the
Teetotal Meeting, and I have taken the pledge, and I intend, through the
grace of God, to keep it as long as I live.'
From that night John became a practical and pledged abstainer from all
intoxicating drinks, and induced many a poor drunkard to follow his
example. No man stood higher than he in Temperance circles. He adorned
_that_ profession. In his extensive intercourse with his fellow men, he
proved himself the fast friend and unflinching advocate of total
abstinence, having delivered hundreds of addresses and circulated
thousands of tracts, in vindication of its principles.
A few years before his death, he was travelling from Hull to Howden, by
rail; the compartment was full of passengers, and he began, as usual, to
circulate his tracts and to speak in favour of temperance.
[Sidenote: THE AGED CLERGYMAN.]
An aged clergyman present said, 'I always give you Hull folks great
credit for being teetotalers.' 'And why the people of Hull more than the
people of any other place?' asked John. 'Because your water is filthy
and dirty, and I never could drink it without a mixture of brandy.'
'That our water is dirty I admit,' said John, 'but I have drank it both
with brandy and without, and if you felt as I feel, I am sure, sir, you
would discontinue the practice of brandy drinking.' 'Oh, I suppose you
are one of those men who get all the drink you can and when you can get
no more you turn teetotaller,' was the rejoinder. 'You are mistaken,
sir; for I can call most of the persons present to witness, that I laid
aside the intoxicating glass when I possessed the most ample means and
every opportunity of getting plenty of drink, and at little or no cost
to myself. But I saw that I should be a safer and happier man myself,
and a greater blessing to others if I abstained, and therefore I signed
the pledge; and you must pardon me, sir, when I say, that if you felt as
I feel, you would, as a minister of the gospel, pursue the same course.'
'O!' said he, with indignation lowering in his countenance and
thundering in his voice, 'I have taken my brandy daily for years, and it
never did me any hurt.' 'Granted,' replied our friend, 'but if you can
drink with safety, can others? Have you never seen the evil effects of
tampering with the glass? Have none of your acquaintances or friends
fallen victims to drunkenness? Let me give you a case, sir. One of my
former employers had a son who, up to the twentieth year of his age, had
never tasted intoxicating drinks. But he had a weak constitution and a
slender frame, and the doctor ordered him to take a little brandy and
water twice a day. He did so, and began to like it. He soon wanted it
oftener, and told the man to make it stronger, and the man did as he was
told. One day he had put but a few drops of water into a large glass of
brandy, but the young gentleman said, 'Did'nt I tell you to make it
stronger? Let the next glass be stronger.' He soon called _for the next
glass_, and having swallowed it, said, in a rage, 'What a fool you are.
I told you to let me have it stronger.' 'Sir,' said the man, 'you can't
have it stronger, for the glass you have just drank was "neat" as it
came from the bottle.' 'And is that a fact,' exclaimed the young
gentleman. 'Has it come to this? Am I to be a slave to that liquid?
Never! Take it away, and from this day I'll never drink another glass.'
This statement was listened to with marked attention by all the
passengers, and when the train arrived at Howden station, they gave
forth a spontaneous burst of applause. The clergyman sat ashamed and
speechless, and, on leaving the train, refused to shake hands with our
friend who had administered to him this well-timed and well-merited
rebuke.
[Sidenote: ADVOCATES TOTAL ABSTINENCE.]
I have stated that our friend spoke at hundreds of temperance meetings,
and his bluntness of manner, curt style of address, and nautical
phrases, won for him a ready hearing. Whenever he rose on the platform
eyes beamed and hearts throbbed with delight. Not that his hearers
expected to listen to an eloquent speech, or to be amused by
laughter-exciting and fun-making eccentricities, but he rose with the
influence of established character, combined with an ardent temperament,
a ready wit, and a face beaming with the sunshine of piety towards God
and good-will to men. Besides, there was a just appreciation of his many
deeds of gallantry, some of which he occasionally related, and which
rarely failed to fill his hearers with admiration for the brave heart
that could prompt and the ready skill that could perform them. Hence, he
was listened to in the town and neighbourhood of Hull with an amount of
sympathy, attention, and respect which no other advocate of total
abstinence, possessed of the same mental abilities, could command.
[Sidenote: FORMS A BAND OF HOPE.]
The _Band of Hope_ had a warm friend and powerful advocate in the person
of Mr. Ellerthorpe, and it was in connexion with its services that he
found his most congenial employment. 3,000,000 of the inhabitants of
our country are now pledged abstainers from intoxicating drinks, and
this number includes upwards of 2,000 ministers of the Gospel. But
thirty years ago this cause was regarded with disfavour even by the
religious public. Hence, when Mr. Ellerthorpe and others sought to form
a Band of Hope in connexion with the Primitive Methodist Sabbath School,
Great Thornton Street, Hull, they met with much opposition from several
members of the Society, and also from some of the teachers in the
school, who were 'tipplers,' and could not endure the idea of a Band of
Hope. But the Band was formed, with Mr. Ellerthorpe as president, and it
soon numbered three hundred members. Before his death he saw upwards of
thirty of these Juvenile Bands formed in Hull. He attended most of their
anniversaries, throwing a flood of genial merriment, just like dancing
sunlight, over his young auditors. Hundreds of these 'cold water
drinkers' sometimes listened to him on these occasions, and as he
related some of the scenes of his eventful life, their young hearts
throbbed and their eyes filled with tears.
We cannot close this chapter of our little book without asking, Were the
motives which led our friend to sign the pledge, right or wrong? The
celebrated Paley lays down this axiom, 'That where one side is doubtful
and one is safe, we are as morally bound to take the safe side as if a
voice from heaven said, "This is the way, walk ye in it."' And is not
total abstinence the only safe side for the abstainer himself? Some men
have a strong predisposition for intoxicating drinks, and they must
abstain or be ruined. Naturalists tell us that in order to tame a tiger
he must never be allowed to taste blood. Let him have but one taste and
his whole nature is changed. And the men to whom I refer are humane,
upright, chaste, kind to their children and affectionate to their
wives, while they can be kept from intoxicating drinks, but let them
taste, only _taste_, and their passions become so strong and their
appetites so rampant, that they are inspired with the most ferocious
dispositions, and perpetrate deeds, the mere mention of which would
appal them in their sober moments. And where is the moderate drinker who
can point to the glass and say, 'I am safe?' As that dexterous murderer,
Palmer, administered his doses in small quantities, and thus gradually
and daily undermined the constitution of his victims, and, as it were,
muffled the footfalls of death, so strong drink does not all at once
over master its victims; but how often have we known it gradually, and
after years of tippling, lead them captive into the vortex of
drunkenness.
[Sidenote: TOTAL ABSTINENCE.]
But admitting, for the sake of argument, that you can drink with safety
to yourself, can you drink with safety to others? 'No man liveth to
himself.' We are all a kind of chameleon, and naturally derive a tinge
from that which is near us. Our friend attributes his early drunkenness
to the influence and example of his father. You should view your
drinking habits in the light of these passages of Scripture, 'Look not
every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of
others.' 'It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor
anything whereat thy brother stumbleth or is made weak.' So that you may
look at Paley's saying, in its application to the use of strong drinks,
again and again; you may examine it as closely as you like, and
criticise it as often as you please, still it remains true, that to
drink is _doubtful_, while to abstain is _safe_, and that we are as
morally bound to choose the latter as if a voice from heaven said, 'This
is the way, walk ye in it.' 'Let us not, therefore, judge one another
any more, but judge this rather that no man put a stumblingblock or an
occasion, to fall in his brother's way.'--Rom. xiv. 13.