Newspaper Page Text
Such is the title of an interesting and
useful little work, of 54 pages, from the
pen of that graceful and truly feminine
writer, Mrs. Ei.lis, on the subject of
Temperance. It is comprised in six
chapters, viz :
1. Peculiarities of Intemperance as a
. , .
2. Intemperance as it operates on in
dividual character.
2. Moderation in drinking considered.
4. Total Abstinence the true remedy.
5. Public objections to joining the
Temperance Society.
6. Private objections and general en
couragements.
In a former number we alluded to Mrs.
E.’s “ Wives of England,” as a work of
some merit. The present Tract, is writ
ten perhaps with less regard to style and
elegance of composition—but it breathes
the same generous spirit as its predeces
sor, and occasionally exhibits all the
purity, disinterestedness and benificence
of the true woman’s heart. What truth
and simplicity for instance in the follow
ing sketch of
THE DRUNK ASd’s POSITION AND FATE.
“ Intemperance is the only vice in the
dark catalogue of man ’s,oflinces against
the will, and the word, of his Maker,
which directly assails the citadel of hu
man reason, and by destroying the power
do choose betwixt good and evil, renders
the being whose similitude was originally
divine, no longer a moral agent, but a
mere idiot in purpose, and animal in ac
tion. The man who is habitually intern
perate consequently makes a voluntary
surrender of all control over bis own con
duct, and lives for the greater portion of
his time deprived of that highest attribute
of man—his rational faculties. It is,
however, a fact, deserving our most se
rious consideration, that in this state he is
more alive, than under ordinary circum
stances, to the impulse o£ feeling, and of
passion; so that while on the one hand
lie has less reason to instruct him how to
act, on the other he has more restlessness
and impetuosity to force him into action.
“ It has been calculated that of persons
thus degraded, there are at the present
time existing in Great Britain more than
six hundred thousand, of whom sixty thou
sand die annually, the wretched victims
of this appalling vice.
“Such then, is the peculiarity of intem
perance, that while all other vices leuve
the mind untouched and the conscience at
liberty to detect and warn of their com
mission, this alone subdues the reasoning
powers, so that they have no capability of
resistance; and while all other vices are
such from their earliest commencement,
this alone only begins to be a vice at that
precise point when the clearness of the
mind, and the activity of the conscience,
begin to fail; and thus it progresses, ac
cording to the generally received opinion,
by increasing in culpability in the exact
proportion by which mental capability
and moral power are diminished.
“ What an extraordinary measurement
of guilt is this for an enlightened world to
make ! In all other cases a man’s culpa
bility is measured precisely by the ability 1
he has to detect evil, and the power he 1
possesses to withstand temptation. In
. this alone he is first encouraged by socie
ty, and this is while his natural powers re- 1
main unimpaired. No bjame attaches to
him then. He is a fit companion for wise
and good men: but no sooner does his
reason give way than he is first slightly
censured by society, then shunned, then
despised, and abhorred; just ac
cording to the progressive stages by which
he has become less capable of understand
ing what is right, and controlling his own
inclinations to what is wrong. * * *
“Another characteristic of intemper
ance is, that it often begins in what are
considered the happiest and most social
moments of a life. It begins
when the hospitaf board is spread, and
when friend meets'friend; when the win- :
ter’sfire is blaiitog; when the summer’s 1
ramble is finished; on the eye of parting,
when moments glide away with the pre
piousness of hours; when hearts warm
towards each other; when broken confi
dence is restored; when the father wel
comes back his son ; and when the yoimg
and trusting bride first enters her new !
home. All these, and tens of thousands
of associations, all as tender, and some of
them more dear, are interwoven with our i
recollections of the tempting draught, 1
which of itself demands no borrowed i
sweets. ; i
“ How different from this are all other i
vices! Injurious to society in the first i
instance,«s well as in the last, selfish in i
their own nature, and avowedly abhorred,!l
they no sooner appear in their nakedjj
form, than a check is put upon them by j
the united voice of society. The thief is jj
’ 4fc|
>not welcomed into the bosom of kind fam
ilies after he has been known to steal a
i Utile. The miser, whose evil propensi
ties are, next to intemperance, the most
insidious in their nature, is spurned and
: j hated before his failing has become a
vice. And so it is with all who sin in
H other ways. They are acknowledged to
be dangerous as companions, and injuri
ous as citizens, in the commencement of
i their guilt. It is only by denying a
l ; knowledge of their actual conduct, that
j they are supported and countenanced
■! even by their friends. So far as they are
acknowledged to be guilty, they are con
jdemned, though having sinned but a lit
tle; while the victim of intemperance
‘ .alone carries with him the sanction of so
;; ciety long after the commencement of his
career ; nay, he drinks of the very same
. bowl with the religious professor until he
has lost the power to refrain. * * *
“Inebriation, from the effect it produces
’ upon the stomach and the brain, has a
more instantaneous influence upon the
* nervous system, and consequently upon
1 the mind, than any other disease. There
s are of course, degrees of this influence,
. beginning first with the slightly pleasur
, able sensation which some persons experi
' ence after drinking a single glass of wine.
; and extending to the last and fatal draught
1 of the poor outcast from respectable soci
. ety. It it often asked, why does not the
drunkard stop ? and he is sometimes most
j severely blamed for taking too much, by
J those who take only a little less. But
?! how should he stop, when his mind has
t lost its healthy tone in consequence of the
, particular state of his body ?—when he
. ceases to be capable of distinguishing be
• twixt good and evil, and cares not for any
i consequences that may come upon him?
How should he stop ? It is a mockery of
common sense, and an insult to common
feeling, to suppose that of himself, and
unaided, he should have the power to do
so. At that critical moment he has not
even the wish to stop. So far from it, his
' inclinations is on the opposite side, and
the whole force of his animal nature with
an excess of bodily appetite, are i ncrcasi ng
on the side of evil, in the same proportion
that his mental capabilities, his con
science, and his power of self-mastery,
are becoming weaker on the side of good,
“And this is the man of whom the
world judges so hardly, because he has
passed unconsciously the forbidden line—
because he has never been able to ascer
tain exactly where it was—and, most
probably, because from some natural con
stitution of body, the same draught which
was safely drunk by another, was one of
fearful peril to him. * * * * *
“ No; such are the usages of society,
than an individual in thestato here de
scribed is almost sure to plunge deeper
and deeper into the vice of intemperance,
until in time he grows a little too bad for
that society to countenance or endure.
His early friends, those who sot out with
him in the same career, then begin to look
coldly upon him. They wish he would
not claim them as friends, at least in pub
lic. Ho next falls out of employment;
he is not eligible for any place of trust;
he begins to hang about, and his former
acquaintance endeavor to walk past him
without catching his eye. At last he be
comes low, —his coat is.thread bare ; his
hat is brown; he is a doomed man ; his
best friends forsake him ; the good point
him out as a warning to the bad ; he is a
terror to women, and a laughing-stock to
children, —and such are the tender mer
cies of the world in which we live! * *
“ I repeat, there is nothing more affect
ing than the contemplation of the victim
of intemperance, while the consciencestill
remains alive to better things, and before
the soul is utterly degraded. In this situ,
ation, it appears as if the whole world, pa
rents, friends, associates, even the wise
and the good, were in league against
them. Nor is this all. Those bodily
powers which to the thief and the murder
er are still left free and unimpaired, to the
intemperate man are no longer under his
own command. His whole frame is de
bilitated, his nerves are shattered, and
that excruciating agony, which is the re
sult of an excited imagination, operating
in conjunction with a disordered brain, so
takes possession of him, that the hours of
! the long day, and the longer night, are
'only to be endured by having recourse to
draughts of greater potency, and more
frequent repetition.”
Pursuing the same train of reasoning
in a subsequent part of the work, our
authoress thus forcibly and pointedly
alludes to
THE DANGERS OF MODERATE DRINKERS.
“ If, then, it is the frequent and almost
invariable tendency of those who take a
little wine to make them comfortable, to
take a little and a little more, as the body
I under its various aliments may seem to
require, what must be done when the
mind with its long catalogue of deeper
maladies become disturbed ? What must
be done as it becomes a prey to all those
gnawing anxieties which mix themselves
in with the under-current of daily life, es
pecially in the present state of society?
- Why, the sudden intelligence of an unex- i
ljpected los9, will often induce a man to
-;gratify himself with this kind of imagina
ti ry strength ; while the necessity of dis
ci (missing a servant not less frequently
a sends the mistress of a house for refresh
-11 ment to her sideboard. And yet we arej
o told there is no danger—no danger at all;
-in all this. I repeat, that, not knowing!
fjexactly where the line of danger is, it is;
a;and must be a perilous experiment to all;
t and nothing can tend more forcibly to
d substantiate this truth, than the fact that
e all men, and all women too, who are now
- the degraded victims of intemperance,
. began and went on precisely in this man
e ner, not one among them intending, or
. believing it possible at first, that they
s should ever exceed the limits prescribed
e by safety or decorum.
e “ But what is it which makes this wine,
* or this liquid, which soothes away our
s pain, so desirable ? Is it not a pleasura
a ble sensation throughout the whole ani
e mal frame—a little warmth—a little com
n fort—a little energy—a little confidence
e—a little satisfaction in ourselves—a
i, very little of all these, so little that we
- could not define their combined opera
. tion, except by saying, we feel better
!. than before ? And yet this very feeling,
t innocent as it may appear in itself, is in
. reality a degree of intoxication. The
e same sensation thrilling through the
t; frame, is what, by advancing a few steps
ir [further in the same course, would be
tjeome muscular distortion—the same
si pleasant glow would become restless fe
-3 ver—the same sense of comfort would
3 be ecstatic folly—the same energy would
. be madness—the same confidence would
i be incapability of shame; and the same
l self-satisfaction would be the same glo
f rious exultation of the intemperate in his
i own disgrace ”
I DRUNKEN AUTHORS.
1 Again : how just the following, taken
from the paragraphs upon those literary
I wine-bibbers whose productions have so
i generally been but the froth of their cups, i
: and whose lewd and vicious effusions
1 have more frequently blackened the '
heart, than brightened the intellect of
their readers :
“ One of the most potent arguments in j
! favor of the use of wine, as it has oper- ]
ated practically upon society, and espe- ,
cinlly upon young men of hopeful talent, ,
is, that some of our most popular writers, (
. as well as our most distinguished men of ;
, genius, have been addicted to the use of ,
f it, in a measure far exceeding the bounds ,
of moderation. It is a lamentable fact,
( that such have been the case; but what- ,
, ever may be the fascination which popu- ,
. lar applause has thrown around the public ,
( career of such men, we need only look in- ,
■ to their private lives, to see how far they (
were in reality from being objects worthy
! either of envy or of imitation. ,
“No; these are not the men whom af
| ter-ages regard as the benefactors of their ,
. race; and even if they were, what dark
and gloomy chronicle shall tell of the |
numbers now without a name, of equal or ,
. superior genius to them, but with less
, ability to exercise that genius, not in con
sequence, but in spite of, such habits of (
; excess? And, after all, it is the number (
i of men of talent which makes a nation (
great and wise. It is not here and there
a genius flashing in a century of igno- j
, ranee. I repeat, such men are not the ,
pillars we depend upon for the intellectual j
and moral dignity of our nation. Start- (
ling, brilliant, and eccentric, their course
resembles only that of the fiercy comet—
a blaze in the heavens—a w'onder to the J
eyes of men. Yet how different from the j
milder planet, or the fixed and constant j
star, to which the traveller turns with
trusting heart, and by which the mariner !
steers his trackless course along the
mighty deep!
“It is to men of deep thought, of pa- ‘
tient labor, and, above all, of steady
; mind, that society owes the greatest ’
blessing, which it is the privilege of en- j
lightened intellect, to impart; and, in or- [
der to preserve that steadiness of purpose, j
that fixedness of resolve, and that supre
, macy of the mind over the body, which |
■ was essential to the efficient working out J
! of any great and lasting good, it has al- _
ways been found necessary to lead a j
i temperate and abstemious life, both as
regards bodily indulgence and animal *
. excitement.”
DRINKING CHRISTIANS.
“There are social and convivial meet- :
ings often held at the houses of religious \
people; and far be it from me to wish
that it should be otherwise. Far be it 1
from me to attempt to throw a shadow
over what I am happy in believing is the !
brightest aspect of human life—the path! 1
along which the Christian walks humbly (
with his God. Individually I have per
haps rather too strong a tendency to
think that religious people should, above i
all others, understand the science of ra- ]
tional enjoyment, and exhibit before the l
world the important truth, that even s
earthly happiness may be innocently, I
cordially, and thoroughly enjoyed. In i
Ithis very enjoyment, however, there is;
excitement enough for the safety of what
ought to be the habitual frame of the;
Christian’s mind, in the meeting of I
friends, in the freedom of social converse,!
and, above all, in the exhilarating anu’
'delightful sensation of uniting, heart to;
heart, and hand to hand, with those
whom we love and admire in one great,
(one common, one glorious cause.
“There is sufficient excitement, too,
i occasioned by the general advocacy ofi
this cause, by the public meetings, and
the thrilling eloquence so often heard on
\ these occasions—there is excitement
enough in all this, and sometimes too
much, for the even balance of the Chris
tian’s feelings and temper, without the
l addition of artificial stimulus applied to
the animal frame, which at best produces!
, only a transient accession of energy, to!
be followed bv a lassitude and exhaustion;
*
unknown to those who never use such
stimulus.
“ I am, .however, one of these who be
i lieve, that, in the sight of God, our habit
i ual and secret feelings are of as much
importance as the energy w r e carry with
us into public effort. I believe that the
ranks of the blessed in an eternity of
happiness will be filled up, not by those
who have merely moved others in a
righteous cause, but by the meek and
humble followers of a crucified Saviour,
: whose consistent walk on earth has been
in conformity with his precepts, and un
der the guidance of his Spirit. It is not
what we do, but what we are, that we
must be judged by in the great day of
account; and it is therefore the Chris-;
tian’s duty to examine every motive, tej
watch every act, and to control ever}
impulse, so that his private as well as his
public life shall be acceptable in the Di
vine sight.”
THE FIRST AND LAST STAGES OF INTEM
PERANCE.
“We are all too much in the habit of
looking upon the sins of intemperance as
belonging only to its extreme stage of
degradation; but did men sin no more
under its influence than they do in this
helpless and abject state, the evil itself
would be lessened by an amazing amount.
It is not excess to which the ruffian
yields himself when he contemplates a
deed of horror. That would disqualify .
his arm for the fatal blow. No, it is i
what is considered moderation which
stimulates to the practice, not only of ]
open and daring crime, but of all those ,
act 3of deception employed to betray the i
innocent and the unwary to their own
destruction. It is the moderate draught
which fires the passions of the revengeful ;
and the malignant—in short, which gives 1
the moving impulse to that vast machine 1
ry of guilt, which scatters misery and \
ruin amongst our fellow creatures, which
desolates their homes, shuts them oul
from Christian fellowship, and lowers j
our whole country in the scale of moral ,
worth. It is this moderate portion which |
invariably makes bad men worse—need '
we inquire, whether it ever yet was
known to make good men better?” ,
WIIAT THE DRUNKARD THINKS OF IT ‘
HIMSELF.
“ And here let us observe, that it is i
one of the peculiar and striking features I
of intemperance as a vice, that its victims J
often loathe the very monster on whose
polluted altars they are offering up their
lives ; nay, they even loathe themselves, {
and hate and despise the tyranny whose
badge of cruel servitude they wear. In i
this state the struggles of the wretched}'
victim to escape, are sometimes most!
painful* and heart-rending to the confi-,
dential friend to whom they are disclosed, i
Sometimes prayer is resorted to, some-! 1
times penance. Every device which a
wounded spirit can suggest, except the on
ly sure and effectual one, is by turns adopt
ed and renounced ; and still, though torn !
and lacerated by a thousand agonies,
which the untempted can never know,
until within the last few years, these \
miserable and isolated beings cried to ,
their fellow-creatures for help in vain.
Sometimes, by the mercy of God, they
have been enabled* to maintain through
life a station of respectability at the cost
of a lingering struggle almost too painful
for nature to endure; and sometimes at
an advanced age, as bodily infirmities
have increased, the enemy at last has con
quered them.”
DR. JOHNSON.
“ Dr. Johnson is often quoted as high
authority in favor of the safety of absti- ■
nence, when compared with moderation.
When asked by Hannah More, at a din-!
ner party one day, to take a little wine.[ :
he replied, “I cannot take a little, and;
therefore Inever take any. Abstinence!,
is as easy to me as temperance would be |
difficult.”
i
LORD MORPETH AND TEMPERANCE.
“At the ‘Great National Banquet ’j l
which lately took place in Dublin, Lord }
Morpeth, after giving particulars of the‘ ]
return of outrages reported in the con
stabulary office, by w r hich it appeared,!
that since 1836 they had diminished one ,
third, proceeding to remark, that ‘of the>i
I "■ ~
: heaviest offences, such as homicides, out
rages upon the person, assaults with at
tempt to murder, aggravated assaults
u cutting and maiming, there were
In 1837, 12,096
1838, 11,058
»| 1839, 1,077
1840, 173
. Facts like these require no comment;
j the mere abstinence from one article of
,| beverage has done more in two or three
f years to diminish crime, than could ever
I be accomplished by all the powers of leg
i islation, the activity of police, and the
t horrors of military force. But it is not
> in the diminution of crime alone, that we
■ see the cheering and happy fruits of the
‘ temperance reformation in Ireland.—
tjThe returns of the savings bank prove
?j that improvidence has diminished, while
> domestic comfort, intelligence, and wealth
i!have rapidly increased.
i “The depositors in the savings bank
were, in July, August, and September,
.1838,7,264; 1839,7,433; 1840,8,953;
■ 1841, 9,585; while in 1842, the increase
iis still greater: and it is stated, that at
i one of the branches of these valuable in
■ stitutions, the pressure of depositors was
’ so great, that the committee had to open
■ the bank another evening in the week.”
e im e im ■t
PROSPECTUS
OF THE
MISTI WASHINGTONIAN,
VOL. 11.
DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICCLTt'KE
AND MISCELI.AN’Y :
j PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY,
At Aujfusta, Georgia,
By JAMES McCAKVEBTY.
In commencring the second volume of this pa
per, the publisher has the gratification to present
a sheet to the public, which In# trusts tv ill meet
with their approbation--and he asks from those
friendly to its prosperity, their aid in extending
iits circulation.
Competent gentlemen having kindly acceded
to the call made upon them by the Board of
Managers of the Augusta Society, to conduct
the Editorial department, the publisher flatters
himself that he will be able to place the paper on
a jftrmanent basis, and to give it a much more
elevated character.
Thus far, the march of oar cause is onward,
and in a lew years, it may reasonably he expected,
that if the energy which has characterised the
members of the \\ asWngton Reform, for the
past three years, continue, an entire reformation
| must take place, and that tile greatest curse to
; our country, will only be mentioned as among
the evils that were.
The subject of Temperar.ee will be the promi
nent object of the “ Washingtonian;” yet then
will he room for the stirring events of the day,
and for other items of interest to the general read
er—as Agriculture, Science, a Trices Current of
the Market, Exchange Table, &.c. In short, the
publisher will endeavor to make this paper* what
lit should be—an able advocate of Temperance,
and a useful Family Paper, strictly moral in its
bearing.
The “ Washingtonian” will be published
EVERY Saturday, (on a Sheet ‘JO x 26 inches,)
at the unprecedcn’tal low price of One DaLt.Aii
per annum, always in advance-- thus placing it
within the means of all who desire an excellent
Family Paper, at a very cheap rate, to obtain it.
The uublisher looks confidently to all the friends
of 7 cmpcrancejand Morality, to aid him in carry
ing successfully, this enterprise into effect—anil
I with their aid, it can be done.
| Jjf CLUBBING.—To persons who will club
together, and forward to the publisher, ( rce of
j|Mstage) Five Dollars, in currf nt funds, will he
entitled to star copies, am) so in proportion. For
; a package of twenty-six papers, to one address,
j 7 wenty Dollars. *
i S~a > All Post Masters arc respectfully request
ed to act as agents.
Jpp All communications, by mail, must be
po*< paid, to receive attention. By the rules of
[the General Post-Office, Post Masters may
| ekank subscription money for Newspapers.
June 6th, 1843.
5Cr Editors inserting the above prospectus, or
[noticing the appearance of our paper, through
! their columns, will confer a favor which we
! shall be happy to reciprocate,
TYPE,
AT REDUCED PRICES.
rpYPES, and all other PRINTING
MATERIALS, manufactured at Conner's
United States Type and Stereotype Foundry,
corner of Nassau and Ann streets, New-York —
can be had at Eighteen per cent deduction from
old prices.
The undersigned respectfully informs the Old
Patrons of the Type and Stereotype Foundry,
formerly known as James Conner’s, and more
recently as Conners & Cooke’s, and the Public
in general, that they are prepared to execute Or
ders for PR I TING TYPES. PRESSES,
CHASES, CASES, IMPOSING STONES,
INK FRAMES, and every other article to
form Complete Printing Establishments, on as
favorable terms, and as good a quality as any
other establishment in the United States.
New prices, per lb. Old price.
i Agate, 96 cts. Agate, 108 cts.
Nonpareil, 66 “ Nonpareil, 84 “
pinion, 54 “ ~ inion, 66 “
Brevier, 46 “ Brevier, 54 “
' Burgeois, 40 “ Burgeois, 46 “
! Long Primer, 36 “ Long Primer, 42 “
I Small Pica, 34 “ Small Pica, 34 “
Pica, 32 “ Pica, 38 “
, Borders, cuts, Brass rule, and all other articles
| manufactured at their establishment at equally
low rates.
New articles got up to order, on being furnish
jed with the patterns.
The type cast at this establishment is both-in
I style of Face and the material of which it is
! made, particularly adapted for service in News
i paper printing.
All kinds of stereotype furnished io order.
JAMES CONNER & SON.
N. B. Such Newspapers as will copy the a
jbove three times, wifi be entitled to pay in Type
on making a bill of 1 times the amount of Irhcr
'insertions. July 17 6