those now intemperate were first drawn into the snares of death. It is
not, as many suppose, the odious example of those already under the
dominion of intemperate habits, by which others are seduced; the
operation of such disgusting precedents is rather on the side of entire
abstinence from the means of their debasement. But it is to the honor
given the degrading cup, by those who can drink without what is
considered excess, that we must ascribe, in a great degree, the first
seduction of all who receive the ultimate wages of intemperance.
Again: Entire abstinence from strong drink should be the rule of all;
because, _to one in health, it never does good, but, on the contrary, it
always, of its very nature, does harm_. We know the general idea, that
hard labor, and cold weather, and a hot sun demand its use; that a
little to stimulate the appetite, and a little to help digestion, and a
little to compose us to sleep, and a little to refresh us when fatigued,
and a little to enliven us when depressed, is very useful, if not
necessary. And we know how soon so many little matters make a great
amount. We have often been called to "behold how great a matter a little
fire kindleth." A more unfounded idea never was adopted, than that a man
in health can need such medicine. Is there any nourishment in drinking
alcohol? About as much as in eating fire.
But why should not the opinions of physicians suffice on this point? If
we take their advice as to what will cure us when sick, why not also as
to what will injure us when well? The first medical men throughout the
land do not more perfectly agree, that to breathe a foul atmosphere is
pernicious, than that the use of strong drink, in any quantity, is
hurtful. _Abstain entirely_, is their loud and reiterated advice. Many
of them will even maintain that it can easily and profitably be
dispensed with in medicine.
But how speaks experience on this head? Who works the longest under the
sun of August, or stands the firmest against the winter, or abides the
safest amidst abounding disease, or arrives last at the infirmities of
old age? The experiment of total abstinence has been fairly tried in
thousands of cases, by those who once imagined they must drink a little
every day; and invariably have they borne a grateful testimony to its
happy effects upon the health of their bodies and the peace of their
minds. Farms are tilled, harvests gathered, ships built, companies of
militia parade, associations of firemen labor, fishermen stand their
exposure, the student trims his lamp, the hungry eat their bread, and
the weary take their rest, with no debt of thanks to the aid of the
distillery.
We say no more upon the plan of entire abstinence. But we will mention
four reasons which should embolden any friend of temperance in urging it
upon others.
1. It is extremely _simple_. All can comprehend, all can execute it. It
requires no labor; costs no study; consumes no time.
2. It contains no _coercion_. Its whole force is that of reason. The
influence of laws and of magistrates it does not embrace. No man can
complain of a trespass upon his liberty, when we would persuade him to
escape the drunkard's slavery by not tasting the drunkard's cup.
3. _In this cure there is no pain._ It is recommended to whom? _the
temperate_--to those who, having formed no strong attachment to ardent
spirit, can feel no great self-denial in renouncing its use.
4. In this remedy _there is no expense_. To those who complain of other
works of usefulness because of their cost, this is without blame. To
drink no spirits, will cost no money. But what will it save? It will
save the majority of the poorer class of the population, in most of our
towns, one half their annual rent. It will empty all our almshouses and
hospitals of two thirds their inhabitants, and support the remainder.
Yes, such is the tax which the consumption of ardent spirits annually
levies upon this nation, that the simple disuse of strong drink,
throughout the land, would save in one year the value of at least five
times the whole national revenue.
It is too late to say that a general adoption of the great principle of
total abstinence is too much to be hoped for. A few years ago, who would
not have been considered almost deranged had he predicted what has
already been accomplished in this cause? Great things, wonderful things,
have already been effected. The enemies of this reformation, whose
pecuniary interests set them in opposition, are unable to deny this
fact. It is felt from the distillery to the dram-shop. It is seen from
Maine to the utmost South and West. Every traveller perceives it. Every
vender knows it. The whole country wonders at the progress of this
cause. It is rapidly and powerfully advancing. _One thing_, and only
one, can prevent its entire success. The frenzy of drunkenness cannot
arrest its goings. The hundreds of thousands in the armies of
intemperance cannot resist its march. But the _temperate_ can. If
backward to come up to the vital principle of this work, _they will_
prevent its accomplishment. But the banner of triumph will wave in peace
over all the land, hailed by thousands of grateful captives from the
gripe of death, in spite of all the warring of the "mighty to drink
wine," if those who abhor intemperance, and think they would be willing
to make a great sacrifice to save their children or friends from its
blasting curse, will only come up to the little effort of entire
abstinence. This is the surest and shortest way to drain off the river
of fire now flowing through the land. It is the moderate use of the
temperate that keeps open the smoking fountains from which that tide is
poured.
* * * * *
TO YOUNG MEN who have not yet been brought under the dominion of
intemperate habits, we address the urgent exhortation of this cause.
Consider the immense responsibility that devolves upon you. It is not
too much to say that the question, whether this nation is to be
delivered front the yoke of death--whether the present march of
reformation shall go on till the last hiding-place of this vice shall be
subdued, or else be arrested and turned back, with the sorrow of
beholding the vaunting triumph, and the emboldened increase of all the
ministers of woe which attend in the train of intemperance, rests
ultimately with you. You compose the muscle and sinew of this nation.
You are to set the example by which the next generation is to be
influenced. By your influence its character will be formed. By your
stand its position will, in a great measure, be determined. You are soon
to supplant those who have passed the state of life which you now are
occupying. Soon the generation that is to grow up under the influence of
your example and instruction, will have reached your place. Thus are you
the heart of the nation. Corruption and debasement here must be felt to
the extremities of the national body. Temperance here will eventually
expel, by its strong pulsations, the last remnant of the burning blood
of drunkenness from the system, and carry soberness and health to every
member of our political constitution.
Are these things so? Suppose them exaggerations. Grant that the
importance of your vigorous and unanimous cooperation in this work of
reformation is unreasonably magnified; still, how much can you do. Were
our coasts invaded by a powerful enemy, come to ravage our cities, chain
our liberties, poison our fountains, burn our harvests, and carry off
our youth into perpetual slavery, what could young men do? To whom would
the trump of battle be sounded so effectually? Who else would feel upon
themselves the chief responsibility for their country's rescue? What
excuse could they find for supineness and sloth? Such indeed is the
enemy by which the country is already desolated. And now it is to the
warm hearts, and the strong hands, and the active energies, and the
powerful example of young men, that the dearest interests of the nation
look for deliverance.
Young men, shall we not enlist heartily and unitedly in promoting the
extermination of intemperance? What question have we to decide? Is it a
question whether the country is cursed with this plague to a most
horrible and alarming extent? No. Is it a question whether the present
power and the progressive character of intemperance among us demand an
_immediate_ rising up of all the moral force of the nation to subdue it?
No. Is it a question whether the most important part of the strength and
success of such an effort depends upon the part in it which the young
men in the United States shall take? No. Then what does the spirit of
patriotism say to us? If we love our country; if we would rise in arms
to shake off the hosts of an invader from our shores; if every heart
among us would swell with indignation at the attempt of an internal
power to break in pieces our free constitution, and substitute a
government of chains and bayonets; what does the love of country bid us
do, when by universal acknowledgment an enemy is now among us whose
breath is pestilence and whose progress desolation--an enemy that has
already done and is daily doing a more dreadful work against the
happiness of the people than all the wars and plagues we have ever
suffered?
What does the voice of common humanity say to us? Can we feel for human
woe, and not be moved at the spectacle of wretchedness and despair which
the intemperance of this country presents? Let us imagine the condition
of the hundreds of thousands who are now burning with the hidden flame,
and hastening to utter destruction by this most pitiless of all vices;
let us embrace in one view the countless woes inflicted by the cruel
tempers, the deep disgrace, the hopeless poverty, and the corrupting
examples of all these victims, upon wives, children, parents, friends,
and the morals of society; let us stand at the graves of the thirty
thousand that annually perish by intemperance, and there be still, and
listen to what the _voice of humanity_ speaks.
What does the exhortation of religion say to us? What undermines more
insidiously every moral principle of the heart; what palsies so entirely
every moral faculty of the soul; what so soon and so awfully makes man
_dead while he liveth_; what spreads through the whole frame-work of
society such rottenness, or so effectually opens the door to all those
powers of darkness by which the pillars of public order are crumbled and
the restraints of religion are mocked; what so universally excludes from
the death-bed of a sinner the consolations of the Gospel, or writes upon
his grave such a sentence of despair, as _intemperance_? Behold the
immense crowd of its victims! Where are they not seen? Read in the book
of God that declaration, "nor thieves, nor _drunkards_, shall inherit
the kingdom of God;" then listen to what the exhortation of Christian
benevolence speaks to us. Is it asked, _What can young men do?_ We can
do this one thing at least. _We can continue temperate._ What if every
one of us, now free from the appetite of strong drink, should hold on to
our liberty; how would the ranks of intemperance, which death is
continually wasting, be filled up? But how shall we continue temperate?
Not by using the means of destruction. Not by a moderate indulgence in
the cup of seduction. Not by beginning where all those began who have
since ended in ruin. But by _entire abstinence from strong drink_. Let
us renounce entirely what cannot profit us, what forms no important item
in our comforts, what may bring us, as it has brought such multitudes as
strong as we, to the mire and dirt of drunkenness.
But we can do something more. We can contribute the influence of our
example to help bring into disrepute the use of ardent spirits for any
purposes but those of medicine. If any of us are confident that we could
go on in the moderate, without ever coming to the immoderate use of
strong drink, we know that the deliverance of the country from its
present curse is utterly hopeless while ardent spirit is in the hands of
the people. It must be banished. Public opinion must set it aside. Young
men must contribute to form that opinion. It cannot be formed without
the total abstinence of the temperate. Let us not dare to stand in its
way.
But we can do something more. We have an influence which, in a variety
of ways, we may use in the community to diminish the temptations which,
wherever we look, are presented to the unwary to entice them to
intemperance. We can employ the influence of example, of opinion, and of
persuasion, to drive out of fashion and into disrepute, the common but
ensnaring practice of evincing hospitality by the display of strong
drink, and of testifying friendship and good-will over the glass. We can
contribute much powerful cooperation in the effort to make the use of
ardent spirits for the ordinary purposes of drink so unbecoming the
character of temperate people, that he who wishes to have his reputation
for temperance unsuspected, will either renounce the dangerous cup, or
wait till no eye but that of God can see him taste it. We can do much,
in union with those of more age and more established influence, to
create a public feeling against the licensing of those innumerable
houses of corruption where seduction into the miseries of drunkenness is
the trade of their keepers, and the means of destruction are vended so
low, and offered so attractively, that the poorest may purchase his
death, and the strongest may be persuaded to do so. These horrible
abodes of iniquity not only facilitate the daily inebriation of the
veteran drunkard, but they encourage, and kindle, and nourish, and
confirm the incipient appetite of the novice, and put forth the first
influence in that system of persuasion by which the sober are ultimately
subdued and levelled to the degradation of wretches, from whose
loathsomeness they once turned away in disgust. Why are these
instruments of cruelty permitted? Not because the authorities will not
refuse to license them. Public opinion is the conscience of those
authorities. Let the opinions and feelings of that portion of the
community where the strength and patronage of society reside, be once
enlisted in opposition to such houses, and the evil will be remedied;
the morals of society will not be insulted, nor the happiness of
families endangered at every step by the agents and means and
attractions of intemperance. Young men have much to do, and are capable
of doing a great work in creating such a public opinion.
In order to exert ourselves with the best effect in the promotion of the
several objects in this great cause to which young men should apply
themselves, let us associate ourselves into _Temperance Societies_. We
know the importance of associated exertions. We have often seen how a
few instruments, severally weak, have become mighty when united. Every
work, whether for evil or benevolent purposes, has felt the life, and
spur, and power of cooperation. The whole progress of the temperance
reformation, thus far, is owing to the influence of _societies_; to the
coming together of the temperate, and the union of their resolutions,
examples, and exertions, under the articles of temperance societies.
Thus examples have been brought out, set upon a hill, and made secure.
Thus the weak have been strengthened, the wavering confirmed, the
irresolute emboldened. Thus public attention has been awakened, public
feeling interested, and public sentiment turned and brought to bear.
Thus works have been performed, information distributed, agencies
employed, and a thousand instruments set in motion which no industry of
individual unassociated action could have reached. Let temperance
societies be multiplied. Every new association is a new battery against
the stronghold of the enemy, and gives a new impulse to the hearts of
those who have already joined the conflict. Let us arise, and be
diligent, and be united; and may the God of mercy bless our work.
THE DRUNKARD IN HIS FAMILY.
His example is seen daily in the house, and in the parent. It is seen by
children so soon as they can see any thing, and long before their minds
are capable of distinguishing its nature, or its tendency. The parent
visibly regards spirituous liquors as a peculiarly interesting enjoyment
of sense, at a time when they know no enjoyments but those of sense: of
course they cannot but think it eminently valuable. The means of
intoxication are also provided to their hand; and their own home, so far
as a dangerous and malignant influence is concerned, is changed into a
dram-shop. The mother, in the meantime, not unfrequently contracts the
same evil habit from the father; and thus both parents unite in the
unnatural and monstrous employment of corrupting their children.
What a prospect is here presented to our view! A husband and wife, to
whom God has given children to be trained up by them for heaven, united
together in taking them by the hand, and leading them coolly to
perdition. What heart, not made of stone, can look at such a family
without feeling exquisite distress, and the most terrible forebodings?
Contemplate, for a moment, the innocent, helpless beings, perfectly
unconscious of their danger, and incapable of learning it, thus led as
victims to the altar of a modern _Moloch_, less sanguinary, indeed, but
not less cruel than the heathen god before whom the Israelitish parents
burnt their own offspring, and say, whether you most pity the children,
or detest the parents.
Dr. Dwight.
No. 247.
WHO SLEW ALL THESE?
AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE.
About twenty years ago, Mr. and Mrs. ----, decent and respectable people,
removed with a family of children from the country to a neighboring
town, where they purchased a small house and lot, and lived very
comfortably. Their family, however, increasing to five boys, they
removed to the shore--the town being situated on a river--and in
addition to their former means of obtaining a living, erected a sign,
and provided "entertainment" for such as chose to call on them. They
were temperate people, accounted honest, and sent their children to the
most respectable school in the place. In a short time it was perceived
that they too frequently partook of the "entertainment," as it is
called, which they provided for their customers. The habit of daily
measuring the poison to others, induced them to taste for themselves;
their house was not as respectable as formerly; restraints were removed;
and although they were not drunkards, they gave evidence that they used
too freely the deadly drug which they fearlessly handled. If the
temperance reformation had been at that time commenced, they might have
been warned of their danger, and saved from ruin; but nothing arrested
their progress in the path of the destroyer.
Their children, who used to be clad with garments which denoted a
mother's industry, soon began to bear marks of neglect, and were by
degrees withdrawn from the school--their parents, because of _hard
times_, not being able to support them there. They consequently lounged
about, became acquainted with the customers at the bar, and learned
their evil habits, especially that of drinking.
The parents had commenced the sale of intoxicating drinks to become
rich; but at the end of a few years it had reduced them to poverty. They
had lost their respectability, their honesty, and their property, which
was mortgaged for rum; their children had become vagabonds, and their
house a receptacle of vice. Of all their five sons, not one escaped the
infection; they and their miserable parents wallowed in the mire
together.
In consequence of the dreadful excess to which she had abandoned
herself, the imagination of Mrs. ---- became disordered, and conjured up
horrible visions. In her fits of the _delirium tremens_, she fancied
herself bound with a belt of brass, to which was attached a chain held
by the great enemy of souls, who had indeed enchained her with the most
dire and effectual of all his spells. She would cross the room with the
rapidity of lightning, screaming that he was winding up the chain, and
she _must go_--she _could not_ stop. She was afraid to pass her own
threshold, and fancied she heard unearthly voices, and saw spirits black
and hideous all around her. "There they sit," she would say, "J----,
M----," mentioning the names of all her children; "there they sit,
grinning at me, and telling me I sent them to hell: they are on the
beams and in the corners, and wherever I go."
The writer of this has often witnessed her desperate struggles; has seen
her, when a gleam of reason came over her mind, weep in bitterness over
her ruin and misery; has heard her confessions of deeds of villany
committed under her roof; and has heard also her solemn vows to refrain
from that which wrought all this misery and sin; but after all this, has
seen her "seek it yet again."
All the arguments which religion can offer were set before her, and she
often appeared to feel their force, and resolved to repent; but the
deadly wave seemed to have retired to gather new force, and again swept
over her and prostrated her lower than "the beasts that perish." There
can be no more effectual barrier against the voice of conscience, the
powerful influence of natural affection, and the strivings of the
blessed Spirit of God, than the use of intoxicating drinks.
Her husband had made himself literally a beast: his appearance was
scarcely human; bloated, discolored, tottering, uttering curses, and
sometimes threatening her life. Her constitution after a while gave
away, and she sunk in death, snoring out the few last days of her
existence in a state of stupor, covered with rags and filth. Her husband
had so benumbed every feeling of humanity by his excess, that he seemed
very little affected by her death; and to one who reminded him of their
former respectability, and spoke of the wretched state to which they
were reduced, urging him powerfully, over the dead body of the
self-murdered wife _now_ to desist, he replied stupidly, that there is
an _eleventh hour_.
Four or five years have elapsed, and he is still in the same state of
beastly degradation--his property entirely gone, and he occasionally
earning a few cents, with which to purchase the poison which is
consuming his vitals, and rendering him stupid and dead to every motive
that can be urged for reformation.
Two of the sons of this unhappy man have gone down to death in an awful
manner. Another, in an affray occasioned by intoxication, received such
an injury in the head that his intellect has suffered, and he is subject
to fits of partial derangement. The other two are very intemperate; one
of them apparently lost to all sense of shame.
The circumstances attending the death of one of these young men were
extraordinary. He had become subject to fits in consequence of his
intemperate life; and his wife following the same course, they were
obliged to give up keeping a public-house, and he maintained himself by
fishing. He frequently stopped colored people and others who were
advertised as runaways, and obtained a reward for returning them to
their masters. He was brutally cruel in his treatment of those who thus
fell into his hands, and on one occasion, having apprehended a young
colored man on suspicion of his being a runaway, he confined him; and
taking him in a boat to his master--who had sent him from home on
business--as he was returning, he fell from the boat, probably in a fit,
and sunk like lead into the mighty waters. On the following day search
was made for his body, which was found swollen and disfigured, and laid
in the grave.
His brother, the youngest of the five, had not reached his twentieth
year, but had given himself up to the influence of the vice which has
proved the destruction of his family, until he also was subject to fits.
Not many months ago he was seized with one, being then intoxicated; he
was recovered by the by-standers, and crawled to a small sloop lying
partly on the shore for repairs: he laid himself down there, and was
found, ten minutes afterwards, _dead_, with his head partly under water.
It was supposed that another fit had seized him, and that in his
struggle he had fallen and suffocated.
This is a melancholy history, but a true one. Many circumstances
rendering it more striking are suppressed, as some of the parties are
living. The old man, but a short time ago, was warned again, and the
question put to him, "What are the benefits of this practice?" "It
_fattens graveyards_!" he replied, with a distorted countenance and a
horrid laugh.