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OR,
VOL. I.]
I THE WASHINGTONIAN.
PUBLISHED BY JAMES McCAFFERTY,
TWICE EVERY MONTH.
Office on Macintosh street — opposite the Post Office.
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to receive attention.
For the Washingtonian.
Oakland, Jefferson County, i
August 4th, 1842. f
Editor Washingtonian:
Dear Sir— With this note, I send you a eopv
of the Address, delivered before the “ Washing
ton Total Abstinence Society of Jefferson Coun
ty,” on the first Tuesday in this month—by
Robert Nesbitt, Esq. To your request was su
peradded the earnest solicitations of the members
of the Society, for its publication; and Mr. Nes
bitt has, with the spirit of a man , granted the
request.
The effect of this address was overwhelming,
and brought forth fruit on the spot. Our motto
is “ Onward."
Very Respectfully,
J. W. M. BERRIEN.
AN ADDRESS,
Delivered before the Washington Total Absti
■ nence Society if Jefferson County , Georgia, at
their first regular meeting, August '2d, 1842 :
BY ROBERT NESBITT.
Mr. President,
and Gentlemen of the Societv:
The cause of Temperance is one, which in its
commencement, was looked upon with an eye of
distrust and fear. The reformation ofthe drunk
ard was considered hopeless, even by the persons
most interested in it; and the efforts of those
who stood foremost in the cause, were directed,
rather to the prevention, than the cure of the
disease For a long time there was but little
encouragement for them to proceed, and when
legislation on the subject was attempted, it ap
peared as if the death blow was given to the
undertaking. Soon, however, the error of
legislators was discovered and corrected, and
since that time, the cause has been progressing,
more rapidly than the most sanguine expectations
of its friends could have hoped for. The fear,
in its commencement, that it was originated but
to gather more power into the hands of the
church, has been dissipated, and most seem now
to agree, that its object is but to relieve those
bound in the shackles of vice—to ameliorate the
condition of those who were indirectly sufferers
from its prevalence; and to keep those already
pure, free from contamination. Most now agree
that it is the cause of democracy, of humanity, of
chri tianity. We have assembled together this
day, to commence our public labors in this cause;
and a> the high honor of being first to raise a
voice in its favor, has been conferred on me; and
particularly as, on the day of the organization of
this soci ty, there was opposition, not boldly and
openly, but underhandedly, manifested to us in
our praiseworthy undertaking, it may be well for
me on this occasion, to notice some of the objec
tions which have been urged against us, to show,
if possible, the advantages of an association of
the kind which we have entered into; and to
impress upon the minds of all, temperate and in
temperate, that it is their duty, and one which
loudly calls upon them, to unite with us, and lend
a helping hand in driving from our land, forever,
that enemy, which, as has justly been said, “ has
caused more injury to the human race, than War,
Pestilence, or Famine.” And .vhile I regret,
that this duty had not been confided to more able
hands, and declare to this assembled people, that
in no other cause could I have been induced to
appear before them as a public speaker, still my
joy at having been released from the slavish bon
dage to which I have been subjected for the past
eight years, and the interest I feel for those I have
left deep in the mire behind me, compelled me
whether I would or not, to accept the office, and
to do all I could, by precept, to induce others to
follow my example, I know that on this account
I subject myself to harsh remarks: that it will be
said, my reformation will be but of short duration,
and that sneers, and jibes, and jests, will be ex
pended freely at my cost; but the consciousness
of doing" right, will make me superior to them all.
“ The world may scorn me if they choose—l care
But little for their scoffings. I may sink
Awhile: but I will rise again,nor shrink
From doing what the faithfnl heart inspires.' 1
TOTAL AIISTINENCE ADVOCATE.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I wish none to consid
er my remarks as personal; and if any one is
offended, before he allows bis passion to carry
him too far, 1 desire that he will recollect the old
saving, “ l he truth alone hurts;’’ and ask him
selt the question—Has he spoken any thing but
the truth 1 The drunkard and the dram-seller
deserve no mercy from me. Do you ask me,
hy - Because the drunkard and the dram
seller first led me into dissipation. Because it
was the drunkard and dram-seller who first made
my widowed mother’s heart to mourn, over one,
who was in every way calculated to gladden it—
one, who should have been her solace in old age,
instead of her disgrace and sorrow. It was tSie
drunkard and dram-seller who first destroyed the
peace, and then carried pain and anguish into the
bosom of that family, where before reigned com
fort, and joy, and satisfaction. It was the drunk
ard and drain-seller who have caused me to spend
sleepless nights and troublesome days. It was
the drunkard and dram-seller who spent my for
tune and loaded m‘e with debt. It was the drunk
ard and dram-seller who destroyed my credit—
who blasted my reputation—who tore my friends
from me—who weakened my intellect —who
prostrated my strength and made me what I am.
These are the injuries which they have inflicted
upon me, and do they deserve mercy at my hands 1
But, drunkard and dram-seller, your hold upon
me is loosened—your influence over me is weak
ened, yea, destroyed, and I now stand aloof from
you, a redeemed and reformed man !
And now is it, friends, that I speak thus con- j
fidently, anil tell you, and the world, that I am a
reformed man. I have never done so before—■
I have never felt so before. I have frequently
made promises, to myself, when recovering from
a debauch, that I would never drink again—but
I attempted to deceive myself; for I never telt
before that I would abstain entirely. Now, Ido
feel so. Now, I know »o. No power upon earth,
though care, and sorrow, and trouble, should roll
upon me in waves mountain high, could induce
me to “ touch, taste, or handle the unclean thing.”
I will tell you what gives me confidence in my
self. It is no secret—hide it not: let it be known
wherever lam known—“ Tell it in Gath, and
publish it in the streets of Askalon.” I have
signed the Pledge!— That pledge which has
restored many a poor inebriate, after long years
ot wandering, to his afflicted family ; not to in
flict upon them farther injury and insult, but to
gladden their bowed spirits and cause them to
regain their lost health and elasticity!—That
pledge, which has changed the monster into the
man!—That pledge, which has changed the
dross into pure gold ! What else, upon earth,
could have produced the effects which it has
done?
Temperance has been preached for years, and
still little or no good seemed to result from it.
The pledge sprung into existence but two short
years since, as if by magic, and its workings have
been magical. It has reformed the drunkard,
and made him the reformer of others—he who
was lowest in the scale of human degradation;
the master-spirit among those, who before would
have treated him with contempt. But, to the ob
jections.
It has been said, that the society would exist
but a short time: that once before a similar at
tempt had been made in this county, and failed.
This society was never in existence before the
4th day of last July; and if one effort to do good
in the county has failed, it is but a greater in
ducement to us, to make another and a greater
effort. This effort has been, and is now making,
and it shall not fail. The jieople are more en
lightened on the subject, than they were in for
mer days. The drunkard now begins to see the
hopelessness of his case, it he does not reform:
the moderate drinker, his imminent and immedi
ate danger; and the temperate man, begins to
feel, anil feel properly too, that it is his duty to
unite with those who have raised high the banner
of Temperance Reformation, and who have de
termined to leave no honorable means untried,
to rescue from degradation and woe, those who
seek for comfort in intoxicating drinks. This
society, I repeat it, shall not fail. There will be
strength given us, from on high, to adhere strictly
to the promises we have made one another: it
will assist us in our endeavors to do good, and
though the prospect may for a while be gloomy,
soon will its gloom depart and all be cheering,
and though “ few the laborers are, yet shall the
harvest be great.” Another objection is, that it
deprives a man of his liberty and independence,
to join a Temperance Society. Deprives a man
of his liberty and independence, to promise not to
drink that which injures him'? Deprives a man
of his liberty and independence, to promise to
do that which is certain to continue his freedom
to him l What moral, social, or political right,
are you requested to yield 1 Are you controlled
in any way but for your own good, and the good
of your fellow men 1 and that, only, with your
AUGUSTA, GA. SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1812
own consent. Why not object to your State
Laws? Do not they prevent you from doing
some things which you have a desire to do?—
They do not allow you to kill yourself. They
do not allow you to cut the throat of your wife;
but, shame on the laws! they do allow you to
murder that wife, in a thousand times more bar
barous manner, by your base conduct, while
under the influence of ardent spirits. Who, but
a fool, or a madman, ever considered it liberty, to
be allowed to do that, which brings only misery
upon yourself and all connected with you 1 But,
who is it that thus loudly boasts of liberty 4
From whom does this cry for independence pro
ceed"? Is it from one, who reallv* feels free?—!s
it from one, who in reality enjoys those sweets of
which liberty is the mother !—Or is it not, ra
ther, from one, who, if he speaks truth, will can
didly acknowledge himself the vilest slave upon
the face of the earth—rendered still more vile,
because he submits to his bondage willingly:
yea, even hugs his master to his bosom 1 lie is
a freeman, who, by force of reason and better
judgment, proclaims and feels himself no longer
bound by vicious habits and desires; who curbs
his own passions; who rules himself. Talk not
of liberty and independence in connection with
the drunkard. He knows nothing of them.
They are utter strangers to him. Vice is his
companion!—Slavery, the most abject, his doom!
Do you wish to sec a freeman 1 There he is—
The reformed drunkard: He who has broken
asunder the bonds of iniquity which have so long
bound him—He, who, in despite of the world’s
sneers, has had the resolution to master his own
spirit—He who has subdued hisown evil desires.
To whom and to what is he the slave ! To
sweet sound sleep ! To health of body and vigor
of intellect! To the smiles and caresses of his
family! To the admiration and respect of the
good, the wise, and the virtuous! Alas! Drunk
ard, you are the slave of the hardest master that
ever exacted servitude. I would that you would
acknowledge it.
The only other objection which I shall notice,
(and I notice it, because it is in very general use:
in fact I used it myself, before my eyes were open
ed.) is this. If a man desires to be temperate, he
can be so, without the restraint of a Temperance
Society. Allow one who has served a regular
apprenticeship to dram-drinking for eight long
years, who has frequently resisted the attempt to
reform him, by use of this same objection, and
who knows from his own experience the falsity
of it, to deny that there is truth in it. Man is
weak enough in all his determinations, when he
has strength of body combined with strength of
mind to assist him in adhering to them. The
efleet of ardent spirits, on the physical man, is to
ruin his health, destroy his strength, and render
him unlit and incapable to perform that labor,
which he could otherwise do. So, likewise, 1
know, in a greater degree, does an indulgence in
the same means, destroy the strength of his mind,
and render him incapable of adhering to resolu
tions made in moments of pain, and when recov
ering from a spree, (for that is the time most
drunkards make fair promises: they think to
cheat the blue devils—yes, and the black and red
ones too, away from them; for they all appear to
him after a glorious frolic.) More particularly
difficult is it to keep a resolution, when they have
to act in direct opposition to their feelings and
bodily desires, and in nine cases out often, their
promises are falsified, so soon as a kind provi
dence permits them to recover their accustomed
health and vigor. Besides all this, they have to
war with that accursed appetite for whiskey,
which I will not attempt to describe,--It would
here require the eloquence of a Marshall To
give you some faint idea, how powerful, how un
conquerable, by the drunkard’s own exertions, 1
will just say, that I have seen the time, when so
great was its mastery over me, that, if it had been
necessary, I would have parted with evey cents
worth of property I had, and made myself a beg
gar on the face of the earth—yea, I believe I
would have sold my soul itself, for one gill of the
infernal liquor. None know what it is, but those
who have experienced it. Drunkard! is not this,
or has not this been the case with you 1 From
my own experience then, I know the falsity of
this objection, and the necessity there is, for every
one who drinks, to have restraint placed over
him. So much for the objections to Temperance
Societies, which are about as groundless, as aie
the hearts of those who use them, false to them
selves.
Os what benefit then are these Associations'!
Man is social in his nature. He likes company,
no matter in what business he may be engaged.
It cheers him in his moments of ease and pleas
ure, and relieves his toil, of the wearisome hours
attendant upon it. Why this is so, we know not,
and cannot account for it, except by saying it is
natural. Essential then as friends are to him in
his daily occupation, how much more so, when,
after a long indulgence in a vicious habit, he
sci’ks to relieve himself of its power o\er him; to
bo cheered and assisted in his endeavors by those
around him; to have tlieir countenance and sup
port, and to know that many, like him, are direct
ing their race to the same goal. Besides this,
there are many who, though desirous of reform
ing, have not the moral courage to come out from
the world, and say, 1 will not drink. The fact of
being associated with men of character and influ
ence, gives them strength to pertorm their virtu
ous duty, and renders them less prominent, as
objects against which, the shafts of ridicule, ma
lice, and envy, may be directed. But there is no
reason to argue upon this subject. Facts arc
more powerful than argument. Every one who
will look back to the time, in 1810, when but six
mechanics, of intemperate habits, resolved, to
form themselves into a Washington Society, with
a pledge, exactly, or nearly, similar to our own,
and will reflect upon the amount of good, which
has resulted from the association of this small
number of men, will be convinced ofthe utility of
these societies; and 1 am forced to the conclusion,
that those who do not see it, arc wilfully blind,
and that their objections arise, not so much from
a doubt of their benefit, as they do from their love
of a brandy toddy, or a gin cocktail. Suffice it
to say, that the effect of them has been, and eve
ry body may know it who chooses, to reclaim I lie
abandoned, to confirm the wavering, and to pre
vent those already respectable from becoming the
| reverse. Such being their effect, is it not the
I duty of every one—drunkard, moderate drinker
! and temperate—to join in this work] To the
I drunkard, I would first address myself, and I
I would beg him to pause for a while where he is,
l and ask himself the question : Am I right in pur
suing this course, and wlfpk will he the end of it]
Is it calculated to gain me friends] Is it calcu
lated to win me the respect an‘l esteem of those
lor whom I have a care ] Is it calculated to pro
duce me that happiness for which all men strive]
We put these selfish questions to you, because
we believe you cannot understand and feel others
of a different kind. The fountain of your finer
feelings is dried up. A guilty conscience answers
in thundering tones, No! Drunkard! while the
door is open, escape from the infatuation which
has so long deluded you! Restore yourself to
that stand in society, from which you have been
hurled by your own infamous conduct. A vic
tory is offered you more splendid than was ever
achieved by warriors in arms. The world seeks
to rescue you from a thraldom more onerous than
Egyptian bondage. Witness the bleeding heart
of your wife, and hear the lamentable cries of
your worse than orphan children, and if there is
the least particle of humanity in you, undrouned,
return to them, and be their husband and thtir
father! Cause not the grey hairs of those who
watched over you in infancy with nothing less
than a father’s and a mother’s care, who protect
ed you in youth, and shielded you from harm
until manhood, to sink in deep and heartfelt sor
row to the tomb, carrying with them the bitter
reflection—my son will fill the drunkard’s grave!
O protect and cherish the sister of your bosom
the playmate of your early days—and cause her
not to wish the sun had never shone upon her,
for then she would never have known the dis
grace of an abandoned brother! For what are
you kneeling at Prince Alcohol’s feet] His
treasury contains nothing great, or good, or glo
rious. What claim have you to respectability]
What claim have you to the protection of laws,
who are in thedaily habit of disregarding them ]’
What claim have you to the privilege of lie bal
lot box, who deprive yourself of reason, before
using it] What claim have you to any of the
benefits derived from our republican institutions
who are usingthe whole weight of your influence
to overthrow them] Listen to the voice one
whose experience, on this subject, is worth some
thing, and believe him when he tells you, that
your course will bring you, not honor, but dis
grace—not wealth, but poverty—not peace but
misery—not life, but death. Join the Temper
ance Society—throw around you the restraints of
the pledge—call yourself a Washingtonian, and
the importunities of your drunken associates will
cease, the thirst for liquid fire will be satisfied and
again will you enjoy those pleasures, which li
quor never, never brings. But a short time
since, and those of your class, were considered
lost, beyond the power of redemption; but thanks
to efforts of Washingtonians, although degraded
almost beyond conception, recent events have
proven, that relief may be afforded you, and that
you may again become honorable and useful
members of society. Spurn not their invitations:
they are your best friends, and the time is soon
coming, when you will acknowledge it, if you do
not now. As you are, you arc woise than use
less,—you are nuisances to any community in
which you abide, and no matter how great your
capabilities of doing good are, better, far better,
would that community be without you, than with
you. No society can retain you without being
[No. 6.