' 4 {? . • AN 
ORATION 
ON THE 
* 
INTEMPERANCE OF CTTIES: 
INCLUDING REMARKS 
ON 
GAMBLING, IDLENESS, FASHION, 
. . * • 
AND 
SABBATH-BREAKING. 
DELIVERED IN PHILADELPHIA, 
Januart 24th, 1831. 4 _******^ 
* I 
BY DANIEL M. D., 
OP CINCINNATI. 
WlaMphta: 
1831. 
GRIGGS & DICKINSON, PRINTERS. Philadelphia, Jan. 26th, 3831. 
Dear Sir, 
The Committee on agency of the Pennsylvania 
Temperance Society, deem it a duty to offer you their 
most sincere acknowledgments, for your eloquent and 
argumentative discourse against the odious vice of in- 
temperance; which they hope will have a strong ten- 
dency to further the glorious cause of temperance, in 
which some of the best heads and hearts in the United 
States are zealously and effectually engaged. 
They request that you will be so kind as to furnish 
them with a copy for gratuitous publication. 
Yours, very respectfully, 
Mathew Carey. 
M. M. Carll. 
Thomas Wattson. 
L. P. Gebhard. 
James Gray. 
Daniel Drake, M. D. 
Philadelphia, Jan. 27th, 1831. 
Gentlemen, 
The discourse, of which you do me the honour 
to ask a copy for publication, was hastily prepared, in 
the midst of my collegiate duties, and not intended for 4 
the press. Certain portions of it, moreover, bear a 
close resemblance to some parts of a published ad- 
dress on the same subject, which I delivered in Cin- 
cinnati, nearly three years ago. I am willing, however, 
to refrain from consulting my literary reputation, since 
you suppose the publication of this may do some good 
to the cause of which we are the common advocates; 
and herewith place the manuscript, with all its imper- 
fections, at your disposal. 
Very respectfully, 
Your obedient servant, 
Daniel Drake. 
To Mathew Carey, Esq. 
and others. , ORATION ON INTEMPERANCE. 
Intemperance is not a special vice of the present day, or of 
our own country. On the contrary, there is reason to believe, 
that it prevailed more in the last than the present century; 
and while no people on earth ever had a greater abundance of 
ardent spirits, or obtained them at a lower price, perhaps no na- 
tion, where they are a common beverage, ever abused them less. 
It must be admitted, however, that in America, as in Europe, 
ardent spirits are so often used to excess, as to justify the esta- 
blishment of Temperance Societies. To infer from the existence 
of such associations that intemperance is peculiarly an Ameri- 
can vice would be fallacious: they more properly indicate a great 
energy of moral principle in our nation, and prove that it is not be- 
sotted. That drunkenness at the present time is less than for- 
merly is no argument against efforts for its suppression; as philan- 
thropy should aim at the desirable, though unattainable, result, 
of its total extermination. 
It was at one time feared, that efforts to this end, would be un- 
productive; but experience has already shown this apprehension 
to be groundless. It is now generally admitted, that the use of 
ardent spirits among the respectable classes of the Eastern, Mid- 
dle, and Western States, has greatly diminished. The morning 
bitters, and the glass of grog before dinner, are no longer taken, 
except in taverns; which are truly, the citadels of this, as well as 
many other vices. But even there it begins to require a certain 
degree of hardihood, to be seen drinking; and of course many 
persons are deterred, who formerly indulged themselves; drinking 
at the dinner tables of our steam boats, has signally diminished; 6 
which, when we consider the multitudes who travel in them, is 
a most encouraging symptom; from our private dinner tables, the 
potation of whiskey and water, when you are half done, is almost 
banished; our ships, occasionally, depart on long voyages, with- 
out a supply of ardent spirits; the quantity imported from fo- 
reign countries is lessening, and the distillation at home has great- 
ly abated,—although our population is rapidly increasing. These 
are ascertained facts, and they should encourage the benevolent 
to persevere. They demonstrate the practicability of a great 
project, and warrant the expenditure upon it, of still stronger ef- 
forts than it has yet called forth. 
In furtherance of this interesting object I have been honour- 
ed with a request by the committee on agency of the Pennsylva- 
nia Temperance Society, to deliver the discourse, which has as- 
sembled this respectable audience. In proceeding to the execution 
of the task, I shall not attempt to travel over the whole ground 
of inquiry, but limit myself to some of the causes, effects and 
remedies of intemperance, in large cities, especially, and among 
the higher classes of society. 
But before I proceed further, permit me as the citizen of a 
distant state, and comparatively a stranger to those whom I have 
the honour to address, to say a few words of myself, in reference 
to the object on which I have been persuaded to adventure. I 
am no longer a young man, and do not, therefore, declaim against 
vices which I am not old enough to have witnessed. My life has 
not passed in the cloister or closet, and hence I do not speak of 
follies from report. I have mingled with mankind in many grades 
and varieties, both of town and country, have sympathies with 
them, and speak as a member of society, a citizen of the world. 
I am a public and private teacher of young men, and feel, I trust, 
an interest in their prosperity. 1 have brothers and other rela- 
tives, obnoxious to the follies which we are about to review. 
Above all, I am a father, and claim to be admitted into the anx- 
ious and responsible community of parents. Hence I shall ex- 
press myself freely and fearlessly; intending nothing disrespectful 
to any one, but bent on convincing all, that I think and feel, in 
that spirit of downright earnestness, which the subject ought to 
inspire. However, that no special application of what I shall 
say, may be made to Philadelphia above other cities, 1 will re- 
mark, that from all I can see and hear, there is, perhaps, less in- 7 
tempefance within its limits, than in most other cities of the 
Union, in proportion to the population. 
Before proceeding to speak of the causes of intemperance, I 
will say something of the appetite which leads to it. 
Man is endowed, by the Creator, with certain desires, the re- 
gulated gratification of which is necessary to his existence, and 
to the successful execution of the functions, which he is required 
to perform in society. These desires are numerous; I shall, how- 
ever mention but three of them—Hunger, Thirst, and the Pro- 
pensity for Stimulants. 
The first leads us to take the food necessary to the nourish- 
ment of our bodies; the second, the water, which is requisite to 
the healthy constitution of the blood; the third, such stimulants, 
either solid or fluid, as impart activity to our systems. Mere 
hunger seldom or never makes us gluttons; thirst never makes us 
drunkards: it is the desire for stimulation, that makes us both 
gluttons and drunkards. Bread and meat will satisfy the appetite 
for food, before we have taken them to excess; and water quenches 
thirst, without disturbing the economy of our minds or bodies. 
It is the innate love of excitement that constitutes the root of the 
evil, by tempting us into excesses in stimulation. To this dis- 
tinct and original principle of our physical constitution, we should 
refer those abuses, which call for the associations which distin- 
guish the present age, and have brought us together this eve- 
ning.* 
* The author has been informed, that several respectable friends who 
heard this oration, believe that the doctrines contained in these paragraphs 
are dangerous to the object which they were designed to promote. But they 
cannot be dangerous, if true. They are substantially the same as those publish- 
ed by the author three years ago, in a discourse, delivered in Cincinnati, which 
has been reviewed and quoted by individuals and societies, without comment or 
censure. The doctrine does not recognise a necessity for intoxicating drinks, 
but for stimulants. The great question is, whether such a necessity exists? 
A true answer may be had, by inquiring whether the desire for stimulants is uni- 
versal? The reply must, the author thinks, be in the affirmative. The con- 
sciousness, and the experience, of every individual, unite to give him this con- 
viction. Observation teaches us the same. For what end, or for what reason, 
do we add condiments to our daily food? Of this kind, are salt, pepper, cay- 
enne, mustard, pickles, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, ketchup, and stimu- 
lating gravies and sauces; but few of which are nourishing, while they all pos- 
sess an exciting quality, and are often taken in large quantities, by the most 
temperate persons in society; even by those who plead most eloquently in fa- 8 
In the savage state, the means of gratifying this appetite, are 
few and feeble. In civilized life, they are diversified and abun- 
dant; and we find the desire for their use correspondingly ener- 
getic. Their action upon us increases the propensity for them, 
and too often raises it to a state of morbid and ruinous importu- 
vour of total abstinence from every thing that can stimulate. What has made 
tea and coffee table beverages with all the civilized nations of the earth, but 
their exhilirating qualities? The universality of the custom, of taking either 
solid or fluid stimulants, with our food and water, demonstrates the existence 
of a desire for them. But such a desire would not have been implanted in us, 
if they had not been necessary. The appetite was bestowed as a means of in- 
ducing us to take them. Like our other desires of body and mind, it is, and 
ought to be indulged, so far as to satisfy the demands of our physical systems, 
but no further. We cannot reason men out of their appetites, their senses, or 
their consciousness. If there is not in them a desire for stimulants, it will not 
be created by the admissions or arguments of this and all other orations: if they 
feel such a desire, they will not feel it the less because they may be told that 
it is not in them. What advantage, to the great and good cause, can come, 
then, from denying the reality of that which all mankind feel, and therefore 
know, to exist? Would any moralist expect to suppress fraud and theft, by 
denying that the love of money is an inherent principle of our nature? Chris- 
tianity may afford us a lesson on the subject. It recognises the love of money 
as a univei’sal principle, but teaches us to oppose to its improper gratification, 
a sense of justice and the fear of future punishment. In the same manner, we 
should oppose to the propensity for injurious stimulation of every kind, the de- 
sire for a good name, the love of family, and the dreadful consequences, pre- 
sent and prospective, of intemperate indulgence. 
Under a conviction of the truth of the opinions here advanced, the author, 
had the plan of his discourse admitted of practical details, would have enume- 
rated a variety of substitutes for ardent spirits, and recommended them to all who 
might, otherwise, resort to the habitual use of that most pernicious of all stimu- 
lants. Of these drinks, he will now mention artificial mineral waters, impreg- 
nated with carbonic acid gas; table beer; porter and ale; cider and perry; the 
milder wines, and tea and coffee. Very few who stimulate themselves with 
any one of these beverages, will ever become drunkards. With respect to 
wines, the strongest of the whole, it is an undeniable fact that, the countries 
which use it, most copiously, are invariably the most temperate. Of the entire 
catalogue, the safest are tea and coffee, which, although fruitful causes of dysr 
pepsia and nervous disorders, when drunk to excess, are, comparatively, harm- 
less in reference to our moral and intellectual faculties. 
The doctrine of the oration, is essentially and simply tliis—total, absolute, and 
permanent abstinence from Aiid ext Spibits. Further than this, on a review of 
the whole case, the author believes it unnecessary and impracticable, for the 
friends of temperance to impose restrictions. But, if, on this point he is mista- 
ken, the publication of his opinions can do no harm, as the vigilance and talent, 
which are so nobly enlisted in the cause of temperance, will not be long in ex- 
posing the error—The Authoii. 9 
nity. This is conformable to an original law of our nature. In 
savage life, man has but few functions to perform, and but little 
stimulation is necessary. In civilized life, his duties, both phy- 
sical and moral, are manifold and complicated. They require 
the exertion of all his intellectual faculties and passions, of his 
various bodily energies; and demand a sustained and diversified 
excitement, in all his organs. But this condition requires stimu- 
lation, of various kinds; and without more of it, than we find in 
savage life, the civilized state could neither be created nor sus- 
tained. The more highly cultivated and intellectual portion of 
civilized men, are, it is true, sufficiently stimulated by moral 
causes and incentives; but these, in every country, constitute a 
small part, only, of the population; and the majority depend, 
mainly, on stimulants which act upon the body; and must 
have them, or the tone of society would fail, and its complicated 
operations begin to languish. Now, the means of this adequate, 
moral, and physical, excitement, are created by the very civili- 
zation, which they contribute to develope and advance; in which 
no one can fail to perceive an example of that harmony and wis- 
dom which are every where exhibited, when we attentively and 
philosophically survey the works of God. 
But, if these views be correct, on what can the friends of so- 
briety sustain themselves, in their warfare against intemperance? 
I answer, on the same basis upon which the moralist rests his 
efforts, against the inordinate indulgence of any other propensity. 
The ground is not broad, but firm and enduring, as the laws of 
nature. As long as man stimulates himself moderately, and with 
such articles as do not impair his health, or pervert the faculties 
of his soul, he violates no moral or physical law, and suffers no 
present or prospective injury; but the moment he selects and in- 
dulges in such as do either, he is a transgressor, and must suffer 
the penalty of his violation. He does not raise in his system 
an excitement favourable to the duties and objects which lie be- 
fore him, but an irritation utterly detrimental to their successful 
execution. Philosophy and ethics do not then proscribe stimu- 
lation, but occupy themselves in regulating the selection and use 
of stimulants. They recognise an innate desire and necessity 
for excitants; but distinguish between the salutary and the per- 
nicious—prescribe the extent of indulgence in the former, and, 
labelling the latter as poisons, advertise the whole world to avoid 10 
them as destructive. They say, ‘If you eat thereof you shall 
surely die I' and is nof this enough? If you drink thereof 
you will perish! and what deeper warning could be given? 
I am aware, that these views are not in harmony with those, 
which prohibit every kind and degree of stimulation. But the 
advocates of the latter system, are better moralists than physio- 
logists. They do not understand that the love of stimulation is 
an original and necessary principle of our nature; and should, 
therefore, within proper bounds, be gratified. They who refrain 
from every kind of stimulants, if any such there be, would still 
more easily refrain from those, only, which are pernicious; while 
many persons might be induced to forbear from the latter only, 
who would not consent to relinquish the whole. But he who ab- 
jures the pernicious is out of danger, and safety is all that the 
friends of temperance can desire. Why then should they insist 
on more? By excessive requirements, they pass into severity, 
and diminish their influence by attempting to extend it too far. 
They become ascetics, rather than moralists : anchorites, instead 
of devotees, in a good and great cause. They make proselytes, 
it is true, or rather, they are applauded by those, who, from pe- 
culiarities of constitution, or great elevation of moral feeling, are 
indifferent to physical stimulation; but the mass of mankind are 
not with them, nor ever will be. Nature interposes, and her 
power cannot be relinquished. She calls for stimulation, but not 
for that which works out her own destruction. It is our errors, 
in selection and indulgence, that make her importunate and reck- 
less. If we supply her, in moderation, with stimulants that do 
not vitiate her, she remains subordinate and harmless. It is our 
improper administrations, that rouse her into phrensy, and place 
her on the throne of our intellect, a drunken and desolating fury. 
As moral beings, we should oppose the motives of the soul to 
the desires of the body; the spirit to the flesh; the pains which 
come from inordinate indulgence to the pleasures of the indul- 
gence. As rational beings, we should observe what do us harm, 
and what do not; and proscribe the former, while we tolerate 
the latter; which, from being substitutes, become preventives. 
Here, then, is the spot, where reason and the moral sense should 
make their stand: the defile where the friends of temperance 
should marshal their forces; the pass of Thermopylae, where they 
should meet the conflict, and struggle for the victory—the tri- 11 
umph of the sentiments of the soul, over the propensities of the 
body! 
Proposing on this occasion to limit myself to the discussion of 
principles, I shall not enumerate in detail the various fermented 
liquors, with tea and coffee, which might be safely and conveni- 
ently employed, to maintain the activity of our systems, and ren- 
der the pernicious unnecessary. It will be sufficient, to announce 
and denounce, that which we should never taste, ardent spirits. 
This it is, which should be proscribed and for ever banished. He 
who excludes this from his catalogue of stimulants, is in compa- 
rative safety,—he who drinks it, knows not the hour when his 
ruin commences. He may, it is true, escape its desolations; but 
he plays a deep and desperate game, on which he stakes his for- 
tune, his character, and the happiness of all who glory in hi3 
name, or hang upon his skirts for support and protection. And 
what does he gain for these mighty and fearful risks? the vulgar 
and vanishing stimulation of a glass of grog! 
The causes which give activity to the propensity for stimulants, 
are many and diversified. Some are moral, others physical. A 
part are universal; but the greater number are local and special; 
operating in particular places, or on certain groups in society. It 
is to these causes, that the friends of temperance should direct 
their attention. Prevention should be the object. Drunkenness 
is seldom cured; but has often been averted; and will continue 
to disappear, in the ratio in which its causes are laid open and 
rooted out. 
Habitual drinking of ardent spirits, is the first occasional 
cause of intemperance which I shall present for your considera- 
tion. While I assert the necessity for stimulation, I will equally 
assert, that except in aged persons, who have confirmed habits 
of drinking, the use of ardent spirits is superfluous, and generally 
prejudicial, even ivhen taken in moderate quantities. The 
ordinary stimulants, physical and moral, which act upon us in 
society are sufficient—especially for boys and young men, whose 
systems are more excitable than those of older persons. 
It has been said, however, that the daily, but moderate use 
of ardent spirits, by young men, is at least safe; and may some- 
times do good, by satisfying their curiosity, and generating the in- 
difference which comes from familiarity. All this is false and 
fatal. Physicians well know, that the repetition of a stimulant 12 
increases the desire for excitement, and calls for augmentation 
of the dose. 
Moreover, the comparative absence of drunkenness, in the re- 
spectable society of Friends, where daily drinking was never to- 
lerated, is conclusive against the theory. A few weeks since, 
there died, in Cincinnati, a member of the society, who, for se- 
veral years, had been the only intemperate person born to such 
membership, although the society is numerous, and much diver- 
sified, as to the sourced of emigration. This single fact is worth 
a volume of theories. 
Dinner and Supper Parties promote intemperance. I am 
aware, and admit the fact with pleasure, that the laws which 
prescribe drinking at these parties, have much relaxed; and that 
no one is now, as in former times, compelled to drink. But 
drinking is expected, and to go beyond the limits of what is called 
a puritanical sobriety, is no discredit. It is undeniable, there- 
fore, that they encourage intemperance, especially large evening 
parties of gentlemen only. I am far from presuming to propose 
their abolishment; but in literary communities more reliance 
might safely be placed on intellectual stimuli, and ardent spirits 
should be banished, for the sake of example, not less, than the 
dignity and temperance of the distinguished men who generally 
compose those colloquial parties. 
Gambling must not be overlooked, in scanning the causes of 
intemperance. It is chiefly operative in towns and cities. Every 
gaming house is a centre of fluxion for the idle, and those who 
relish dissolute associations, not less than those, who find a mor- 
bid delight in the chances of the game. Could the number of 
those who frequent gaming houses, as actors and spectators, in a 
large city, be presented aggregately, it would make society shud- 
der. They are all candidates for drunkenness, disgrace and pre- 
mature death. Drinking is the inseparable habit of every ga- 
ming table; and drinking to excess, at such a spot is no discredit, 
but the reverse. It is the order of the day—the fashion of the 
time and place—the spirit of the age. The rule is, drink ! the 
penalty of its violation, contempt and ridicule. 
To the Theatres of large cities, similar remarks are applica- 
ble. It is in vain to cite the theory of the drama. Every one 
must admit, in the abstract, that the theatre may be a school of 
virtue; but in what age or nation, was it not a still greater 13 
school of vice? Boys and young men, who frequent the theatre, 
are in the midst of temptations, not only to drinking but other vices. 
Even many of the performances on the stage, encourage drink- 
ing. When drunkenness is represented, the character is not intro- 
duced to show forth its odiousness, but to fill up the plot, or 
amuse the audience with the wit of the author, addressed to the 
spectators, by one who performs the same part, with the clown 
in the circus. Thus the genius of the writer, is made to cast a 
mantle over the degraded character of the drunkard; and we are 
led to tolerate the latter from our admiration of the former. 
But the theatre does much greater harm to the morals of youth, 
by the scenes of its lobby and saloons, than its stage. Late 
hours, dissolute companions, licentious conversatibn, and the 
temptations of the bar, combined at one spot, under cover of 
night, and beyond the pale of virtuous society, are causes of 
dreadful energy, to the action of which, parents and masters 
should look with a degree of vigilance, which I fear does not al- 
ways exist. The theatre cannot be abolished; but the evils which 
it generates might be mitigated. The bar should be cast out, as 
foreign to the organization of the establishment; or ardent spirits 
utterly proscribed, as converting a nominal school of virtue, into 
one of insobriety, and wickedness. In addition to this, our sons, 
during their minority, should be limited in their visits, and al- 
lowed to see none, but select and unexceptionable plays. They 
should be attended by their fathers and mothers, or other friends, 
of age and sound morals ; and go on the principle of benefit from 
the stage, instead of vulgar amusement in the external scenes at 
the theatre. 
Idleness is a fruitful soil for habits of intemperance. Man is an 
indolent animal. By nature he loves repose. Exertion is a forced 
state, the offspring of necessity, or the instigation of some pas- 
sion, more powerful than the love of ease. Children, although 
constitutionally active, in the pursuit of amusements, are averse 
to labour, and require stimulation and discipline, to form habits 
of industry. I have been amazed to observe, how little fathers 
and mothers are aware of these truths, or, if aware of them, how 
little they are governed by this conviction. On this point, ad- 
monition is more necessary to the rich, than the poor. Among 
the latter, children are often obliged to work for food and cloth- 
ing; among the former, it is not uncommon, to see them grow up 14 
in ease and idleness. Youth is the era of life, in which our ha- 
bits are formed; and he who grows up in indolence and riches, 
may live and die, in -idleness and poverty. When extravagance 
and dissipation shall have squandered his inheritance, even the 
stimulus of want, may not break his established habits. This 
subject is one of such deep interest, to all of us who are parents, 
that I cannot refrain from dwelling on it a moment longer. 
Industry, promotes the health and bodily growth of chil- 
dren : 
Indolence, impairs both. 
Industry, renders their study easy and pleasing: 
Indolence, makes them truants. 
Industry, is a substitute for genius : 
Indolence, renders genius ineffective. 
Industry, preserves our inheritance: 
Indolence, wastes it. 
Industry, inspires society with confidence: 
Indolence, repels its confidence. 
Industry, provides for casualties : 
Indolence, renders us helpless under them. 
Industry, accumulates something for old age: 
Indolence, loads it with cares and embarrassments. 
Industry, provides for our children : 
Indolence, fails to do this; limits their opportunities; blasts 
their prospects; and, when we die, leaves them dependent on a 
heartless world. 
Industry, gives us the means of charitable and patriotic dona- 
tion : 
Idleness, prevents our co-operating in works of beneficence, 
and inflicts on us the character of sordidness. 
Industry, contributes to a long life, while it condenses into a 
short one, the fruits of many years. 
Idleness, abridges life, and renders the longest unproductive 
of happy results. Finally, Industry is money, is credit, is pow- 
er, is time itself! 
All great men, (not all great geniuses) have been indus- 
trious. 
Linnaeus and Newton, who gave a stronger impulse to the na- 
tural history of the earth and heavens, than all their predecessors 
and all their followers, were men who never flagged. The 15 
growth of the plants which he described, was scarcely more un- 
ceasing, than the labours of Linnaeus; while the industry of New- 
ton might almost be compared to the tireless movements of the 
planets, whose laws he developed with such matchless success. 
By labour, not less than talents, our own Franklin, at first ap- 
prenticed to a trade, at length made himself the philosopher of 
two worlds; and conferred on this, the city of his adoption, not less 
than his native Massachusetts, a lustre that will endure for ages 
to come. 
Lastly, Napoleon as far surpassed his contemporaries in appli- 
cation, as in the victories which prostrated rival thrones, and 
overwhelmed the world with astonishment and awe. 
Had these mighty ones of the earth been men of idle habits, 
they would have shone like meteors, through a brief space, and 
then passed away for ever: Their deeds of intellect and action, 
would not have been felt; and the history of their lives would 
have filled but a single page, instead of countless volumes in 
every civilized tongue. 
But our proper business at this time, is to consider idleness as 
a cause of intemperance. In no conceivable respect, can it be 
the parent of virtue. All its tendencies are to vice. The idler 
is a prey to every folly. None is so much exposed to temptation : 
None yields himself up with so little resistance. He is the sport 
of circumstances. Fie walks into the snare, because he is too 
lazy to go round it: Fie suffers the net to descend over him, ra- 
ther than raise his finger to turn it aside. If any thing moves 
him, it is the love of dissolute pleasures, in the midst of which 
he luxuriates, and from whence, having once entered, he seldom 
has the virtuous energy to return. 
Fashion is a powerful cause of intemperance. It is not limit- 
ed to any particular class of the community or state of society, 
though most operative in cities and in the highest circles. F'ashion 
is rooted in that principle of human nature, which makes ‘ man an 
imitative animal,’ and involves that sentiment, which leads him 
to respect public opinion. But few persons, therefore, are 
raised above the influence of fashion, and those few, are none the 
better for their forced and unsocial elevation. It is one thing, 
however, to set fashion at defiance, another to become its victim. 
Fashion is, to a greater or less degree, the taste, and opinion of 
the world embodied; and is, therefore, always entitled, to atten- 16 
tion, if not to respect. It is characteristic of good sense and 
sound principles to examine into the requirements of fashion; and 
conform to them, as far as they accord with nature, propriety and 
convenience. It is the vain and frivolous, only, that yield a blind 
submission. Good taste rejects all that is absurd or ridiculous: 
bad taste swallows the whole without examination. Fashion ex- 
erts the greatest dominion over young persons, and in youth, acts 
upon both sexes, in nearly the same degree. Education being 
equal, the weakest-minded are the greatest devotees of fashion; 
but in early life, it imparts delight to every grade of intellect, 
though in varying degress. Young persons are not aware of the 
delusions of fashion; and should be admonished, against yielding 
to its absurd demands.- I do not know a harder master. It has 
no heart, no conscience, no stability. It governs without law, 
and sentences without a hearing. Its changes, like epidemic 
diseases, come and go, when we least expect them; and often 
with a social devastation, which might carry out the metaphor. 
No perspicuity can foresee its caprices, or prepare to meet them. 
The edicts of the morning are reversed, Jbefore the evening lamp 
of pleasure and dissipation is extinguished. That which it lauds 
to-day, it scorns to-morrow, and ridicules those who joined in 
the praise. Such is its character, and this character should be 
made known to our sons. They should be warned, never to de- 
liver themselves into its power. If once reduced to servitude, 
they are on the road to ruin. If the fashion of the club or cote- 
rie to which they belong, says, drink! they cannot refuse; if 
fashion says, prefer ardent spirits to tea or coffee, or fermented 
liquors, they acknowledge the preference; if fashion says, pour 
into the fatal chalice, the sweets and spices, that honey over the 
poison, they comply; if fashion says, drink again, and again re- 
peat the draught, raise your spirits, elevate your souls, excite 
your feelings, send abroad your fancy; become or believe your- 
self a genius, mount into the clouds, and look down with smiles 
and contempt, on the plodders that walk the valleys of the earth; 
you drink, you rise, and you fall headlong, to grovel in scorn and 
infamy, beneath the footsteps of those whom you despised. Such 
is the issue of a life of fashionable drinking. * 
Time was, when fashion governed our young men, on this 
point, in the spirit of a tyrant. It was held that drinking and 
riot were indications of talent, and a sentence of contempt, 17 
rested upon those who declined to participate to excess. The 
spirit which presided over these convivial parties, pronounced all 
who held back, to be nothing more, than nature’s downright com- 
mon places—Drones and bigots.—Dunces if they would not 
drink to stupidity; smart fellows if they did. I can recollect 
when this test of genius was more relied on than at present. It 
reminds one of the ancient ordeal for witchcraft. If the young 
man would not drink freely, he was a fool—if he did, he made 
himself a brute:—verily a sad dilemma. I am happy to know, 
that nobler views of the character and destiny of youth, are be- 
ginning to prevail; and trust that our sons of genius will soon 
have invention enough to manifest their superior endowments, 
in some other mode, than scenes of dissipation and uproar. 
Sunday drinking, is a fruitful source of Intemperance. He 
who appropriates the sabbath, to the society of taverns and cof- 
fee houses, is already vitiated in his moral taste, and must end 
his career a sot. He there dissipates a part of his fortune, or 
of the earnings of the week, and with it, go his habits of appli- 
cation, and his powers of self-denial. Better were it for such an 
one, that he should be altogether denied the privileges of a day 
of rest; for he might, then, escape this deep contamination. As 
a general fact, the people of the United States, are pre-eminent 
in their observance of the Sabbath; and long may they continue 
to merit this distinction. The nation, which dedicates a seventh 
part of its time, to retirement from the cares and contentions of 
business—which recurs at stated periods to a sense of its moral 
accountability—which devotes itself, on the Sabbath, to religious 
exercises, and the study of books of sound morality—which assem- 
bles at the end of every week, around the family fireside, and 
purifies the domestic relations, by imbuing them with appropri- 
ate moral sentiments, and moral feelings, is in the way of duty, 
which is the way of happiness. About such a people, there is 
an atmosphere of moral and social grandeur, which must repel a 
host of crimes and follies. Let me, then, exhort such of you as 
are parents, guardians, and masters, to look well to the conduct 
of your children and youth, on the Sabbath day. Let innocent 
amusements be invented—let attractive and suitable books be 
placed before them—let fathers remain at home, and instruct 
them in the first principles of religion, and the simple precepts of 
moral and social duty:—Above all, let Sunday Schools be en- 18 
eotrraged, patronised and multiplied. Not merely as scenes of 
religious exercise, but as seminaries of literature, religion and 
morality united. If not sent to such schools, many poor children 
never learn to read; but grow up in ignorance, and before they 
attain to manhood, fall into all the vices, which beset the foot- 
steps of those who spend the Sabbath in idleness, and in wander- 
ings among the haunts of dissipation and profligacy. But it is 
not the poor, only, who may be benefited by Sabbath schools. 
To the children of the rich, through a certain age, they are 
scarcely less beneficial. They diversify the existence of the 
child, and reconcile him to the salutary restraints, of the day of 
rest and meditation. They connect his literature with religion 
and the principles of moral obligation;—they civilize and soften his 
heart. I know of no institution, which might be made to exert 
so much power, in the great work of moral elevation—of none, 
so worthy the attention of those, who would labour in the mighty 
enterprise of ennobling a whole nation! As a means of prevent- 
ing intemperance, Sunday schools, deserve unlimited confidence. 
I am aware, that children do not often drink to excess; but 
when suffered to go at large on the Sabbath, they form those ha- 
bits of vice and vicious companionship, which, as they grow old- 
er, too often lead directly and powerfully to dissipation and 
drunkenness. 
Volumes would be necessary to delineate the calamitous ef- 
fects of intemperance. 
Ardent spirits are a poison. A fit of drunkenness, is a pa- 
roxysm of acute disease, which, arising from any other cause, 
would be regarded with dismay. Habitual drunkenness gene- 
rates chronic maladies, which ultimately extend to all the or- 
gans of the body. It inflames the stomach, the liver, and the 
brain, which are finally disorganized. It poisons the whole ner- 
vous system\ disorders the senses, and palsies the muscles. Thus 
the entire man is at length transformed, from a condition of 
health and vigour, to a state of loathsome disease; and the grave 
is at last the only purifier. 
In the mind, the sad effects of intemperance are equally con- 
spicuous. It impairs the powers of observation, weakens atten- 
tion, renders the memory treacherous, excites the imagination, 
and subverts the understanding. Neither the observations nor 19 
the judgments of such a one, are to be trusted; they may he cor- 
rect, but are always liable to be false. 
Even madness may be the offspring of the habitual use of ar- 
dent spirits, although deep intoxication may have been seldom 
perpetrated. Incessant irritation of the brain, at last perverts 
the reason, or sets up the spectres of fancy, for the realities of 
observation. The perceptions become disordered, and the in- 
dividual is delivered over to strange and terrific phantasies. In 
this condition, he is successively the victim of every kind of de- 
lusion, and exerts himself on those about him, as he would upon 
strangers and enemies. His friends are transformed into foes, 
and the dearest objects of his former love, become the prey of 
vindictive and murderous designs. Unable to distinguish be- 
tween right and wrong, and mistaking the creations of his own 
shattered intellect, for actual facts, he acts accordingly, and com- 
mits outrages the most shocking to humanity. In this melan- 
choly condition, which bears but little resemblance to a fit of in- 
toxication, and frequently occurs after a suspension of the prac- 
tice of drinking, he is actually insane, and should no longer be 
held responsible for his actions. This view of the case has not, 
however, been generally taken, and hence the history of our ju- 
risprudence furnishes examples of punishment, not compatible 
with the prevailing wisdom and mildness of our penal laws. 
Our criminal courts have confounded the insanity of drunkards 
with their fits of intoxication, from which it is distinct, and pu- 
nished the offences of both states in the same manner. A more 
searching analysis would have prevented such an error. The 
mental alienation of habitual drinkers, is of that kind, which 
brings them under the judicial maxim, that he who is insane 
shall not be punished. The proper place for such a one is the 
hospital, instead of a prison; and the time must come, when he 
will find that destination. Our courts of justice are not at liber- 
ty to sit in judgment, on the remote causes of insanity, and dis- 
criminate among its varieties. The man who is non compos 
mentis from disease, however produced, is no longer an ac- 
countable being, and should be confined, but not punished. 
Even the delirium of a fit of drunkenness, should be pleaded in 
mitigation instead of aggravation of punishment; for the indivi- 
dual often does that, when intoxicated, from which he would re- 
coil with horror, in his sober moments, and this should be the 20 
test. But drunkenness itself, not now recognised by the law as 
a crime, should be punished. It is an offence against the peace 
and dignity of society; against the wife and children, who may, 
by this practice, be reduced to beggary, and thrown upon the 
public charity for support. The drunkard himself may come 
to the same end; and, finally, subsist for years on the earnings of 
the industrious and temperate. Hence it is, that society acquires 
the same right to punish drunkenness, that it can claim to punish 
any other outrage. It inflicts legal penalties on no one who does 
it no injury. Blasphemy and irreligion, it leaves to a higher 
tribunal; while it punishes the slightest, and every aggression 
upon its interests and happiness. Drunkenness, in all its stages, 
is one of these, and should be met with appropriate penalties. 
The personal rights of those who practise it, should be restrict- 
ed; their political consequence abridged; their children placed 
under guardians, and their property transferred to trustees. By 
the fear of these penalties, thousands would be deterred from be- 
coming intemperate, while the friends and families of those who 
might still drink to excess, would be screened, in part, at least, 
from the calamities which, in the absence of all protecting le- 
gislation, never fail to overtake them. 
The perverting effects of intemperance on the heart, are not 
less than on the head. It transfers equanimity into petulance; 
aggravates impatience into insensibility; engenders suspicion; 
blasts the domestic affections; and converts a good husband and 
father, into a capricious and cruel scourge. It generates a taste 
for dissolute society, with its diversified obscenities; vulgarizes 
the feelings; inflames every resentment; introduces the language 
of profanity; and ends by establishing habits of falsehood and 
treachery. 
On our actions and pursuits, its influence is equally deleterious. 
It especially breeds an indifference to business, which at length 
rises to ruinous neglect. A total disregard of property not un- 
commonly ensues, and the earnings of former years are rapidly 
dissipated. Economy is replaced by prodigality, and the max- 
ims by which property is acquired and preserved, are trampled 
under foot. 
In this reckless condition, the attractions of the gaming table 
too often begin to exert their influence, and the victim of intem- 
perance, thus acquires another impulse on the road to ruin. 21 
Gaming, as we have seen, is a cause of drunkenness; but in 
large cities, it is equally a consequence of that habit. Nothing, 
indeed, is more common than to see the drunkard become a 
gambler, and at last fall a prey to their united consequences. 
He who adds gambling to drunkenness, renounces all the in- 
teresting objects of life. He no longer goes abroad to gaze on 
the beauty and loveliness of nature, to traverse the fields and 
forests, inhale their fragrance, and invigorate his mind by the 
contemplation of their ceaseless variety. When the setting sun 
fires the whole heavens with beams of red and yellow light, 
which dazzle and delight the eye of taste, he is already in the 
den of thieves, and feasts his distempered sight on the colours 
of his cards. When the stars come forth in beauty, to illumi- 
nate the clear blue canopy, and elevate the lover of nature into 
feelings of poetry and devotion, he sits toiling, with inflamed 
and watery eyes, amidst smoking lamps, whose oil is exhausted 
before his guilty passion is satisfied. When the morning dawns, 
he staggers forth, but not to refresh himself in its balmy breezes, 
or enjoy the songs of animated nature, that float upon them; for 
he is insensible to the whole. Even the purple splendours which 
clothe the east in glory, fall unheeded in his stupid eyeballs. 
Still less does he watch the rising sun, and, with the great poet, 
exclaim:— 
* Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven, first born!’ 
No! ah no! He delights to dwell in darkness! the light which 
cheered him once, cheers him no longer; it displays his shame; 
he skulks along narrow alleys, to avoid the companions of his 
virtuous days, and seeks his desolate home, to play the drunken 
despot, or prepare, by a few hours of disturbed and morbid 
slumber, for another night of debauch and knavery. Thus he 
sacrifices to his guilty pleasures, every elevated enjoyment arising 
from the view, or the study of nature, while he alienates his 
heart from all communion with nature’s God. 
In the same degree he loses the gratifications which flow from 
the study of books. His mind is not enriched by the lessons of 
science: his language is not refined by works of literature: his 
feelings are never fired by the sublime and thrilling examples of 
history. 
He is equally estranged from the rational gratification, im- 22 
parted by the knowledge and practice of the useful arts. He is 
ignorant, or neglectful of every kind of professional skill, ex- 
cept that of his new and despicable calling; for the debauche- 
ries of which, he foolishly barters away the dignity and happi- 
ness which flow so plenteously, from a participation in the use- 
ful pursuits of human life. 
Still further, he loses the enjoyments of virtuous society, and 
accepts, for the companionship of the high-minded and faithful 
friends of his youth, the treacherous and drunken associates of 
the gaming table. 
Thus it is, that whatever may be his winnings at play, and 
however his constitution may bear up under habitual stimula- 
tion, the victim of drink and cards inevitably relinquishes enjoy- 
ments, which a man of unperverted taste, and sound moral feel- 
ing, would never put at hazard, much less renounce for ever. 
These negative losses, however, are of but little moment, 
compared with the positive desolations of heart and character, 
which his indulgences generate. Thus, it is well known, that 
the drunken gamester comes at length, to view the obligations of 
religion, and the attributes of the Deity, with indifference or dis- 
gust, and surrenders himself up to habits of unmitigated profanity. 
Cunning and knavery are equally the offspring of his evil pas- 
sion. No man plays with another, without having the conviction, 
that he is that other’s equal. Whenever, therefore, he finds him- 
self a loser, he naturally concludes, that his opponent is a cheat; 
and, forthwith resolves himself to cheat in his own defence. 
Thus all who lose, are tempted to defraud, and beginning as men 
of honour, though not of temperance, they terminate their career 
as knaves and swindlers. 
Broils, assassinations and duels, are other fruits of this tree of 
death. Drinking arouses the angry passions, and losses generate 
resentments and revenge. Hence personal combats, as fierce, as 
those among wild beasts, suddenly spring up. The more sober 
and powerful grow violent, the drunken are overthrown, and the 
floor is drenched in blood: or, if revenge postpones its fatal blow, 
the parties at length meet, on what might be ironically called the 
field of honour, and society perhaps has the good fortune to be 
rid, at the same moment, of two of its monsters. 
But this happy result,—happy for the surviving—dreadful in- 
deed, for those who thus enter eternity, covered with unrepented 23 
crimes,—does not often occur; and a more protracted catas- 
trophe is in reserve for the martyr of vice. His business being 
suspended, both his fortune and his good name are at length de- 
stroyed. For a time he may supply his wants by an encouraging 
course of success; but this only serves to determine his fate, for 
it feeds his cupidity, and deepens the awful fascination, which 
binds him to his wicked pursuits. At length, his tutelary goddess 
capriciously withdraws her smiles, and bestows them on his op- 
ponent. But his prudence is now annihilated, his understanding 
impaired, his appetites perverted, his passions inflamed, his will 
subjugated to his dreadful propensities; and with his glass in one 
hand, and his cards in the other, he drinks and plays still deeper 
and deeper. 
When the victim of drunkenness and gambling, is an insulated 
being, the ruin thus induced is less affecting. But it too often 
happens, that he is both husband and father; when having ex- 
pended the proceeds of his days of business, and sold for the 
wages of iniquity, the venerated heritage of his fathers; having 
cheated his guilty companions, and, with lies and deceit, reduced 
his credulous friends to poverty, he comes at last, like a famish- 
ing beast, to fix his fangs on the hard, and, perhaps, scanty earn- 
ings of his wife and children. Regardless of the vows of wedded 
love, dead to the sobs and entreaties of the beautiful but faded 
form, that kneels before him, insensible to the fate or feelings of 
the innocent children, that cling to his knees, and in voices of love 
and obedience, beseech him to remain at home, he seizes, with- 
out remorse, the little fund designed to purchase bread for him 
and them, and prepares to escape to the scene of his vices. In 
vain do the tears of anguish fall upon his robber hand, or sighs 
and prayers ascend up to heaven; unmoved by the cries of love 
and horror, he is intent upon nothing but his booty, and looks not 
back, till he sees it lodged upon the fatal board. But his days 
are numbered. His race is run. The hand of death is upon 
him. A raging fever kindles up in his corrupt and cankered 
system, and ends his mad career: or phrensy seizes on his burn- 
ing brain, and his own arm raises the poison bowl, or wields 
the dagger, that consigns him to the tomb, and leaves his family, 
the heritage of his disgrace. 
Young men! shut not your eyes to the hideous aspects of 
drunkenness here dimly shadowed out. Let them alarm you. 24 
Walk not in paths which are beset by such spectres. Frequent 
only the abodes of temperance. I have not described, what 
has but occasionally befallen a young man, in the lowest walks 
of life. Not one of you, can say, can truly say, that he may 
not become the ridiculous, the humiliated, the scorned victim 
of drunkenness. Therefore, drink no ardent spirits. Make 
it the rule of your lives. If none of you drink, all will escape 
the drunkard’s fate: whoever drinks, may sooner, or later be 
lost. I warn you affectionately in the midst of this respectable 
assembly,—within these holy walls I exhort you solemnly, to 
distrust your firmest resolves against drinking too much. Rely 
only on the resolution that you will never drink. He 
who never drinks, has little temptation to resist, and is safe: 
the habitual drinker must combat a desire, which every day 
becomes more importunate, and combat it successfully, or he 
perishes. The struggle is for victory or death: the habit—or 
the gay and animated form of opening manhood, must be de- 
stroyed. If you drink from fashion, how unspeakable your 
folly: if from desire, how appalling your danger! A young 
man, perhaps an only son, loaded with the honours of the first 
seminaries of his country, and about to ascend the theatre of 
that country’s noblest operations—engaged in the daily ingur- 
gitation of gin or whiskey! What a sorrowful spectacle! What 
a gross absurdity! Claiming the applause of the good and great, 
but trammelled in the habits of the degraded and sensual! As- 
piring to fortune, influence and fame,—but yielding a voluntary 
submission to the tyranny of a vitiated appetite! In the proud 
consciousness of cultivated intellect, almost enrolling himself 
with the angels that never die,—but stooping to drink of that 
which sinks him below the brutes that perish and are no 
more! 
Fathers! permit one of your own number, to speak to you 
with freedom on this momentous subject. Look not with appro- 
bation, or indifference, on the first departure of your sons from 
the line of sobriety. Strive both by precept and example, to 
inspire them with a horror of intemperance. Wash your hands 
of their ruinous indulgences, by an earnest and affectionate pro- 
test. Keep your skirts unpolluted with their blood, by point- 
ing out the destruction, which awaits their erring footsteps. 
You desire them to be good and great men, or at least, virtuous 25 
respectable and happy men;—let your desires lead to active ef- 
forts;—urge them onward in the paths of temperance, and 
frown with paternal indignation upon every deviation. You 
give up your days to labour and anxiety, your nights to watch- 
fulness and meditation, that you may earn a fortune, and esta- 
blish a name;—before either is acquired, you find the sun of 
your existence declining, and you turn your departing eyes, 
upon those who are destined to inherit the products of your 
toil. Would you not wish them to be worthy of the heritage? 
Would it not imbitter your last lingering hours, to know and 
feel that your estates would be speedily dissipated in hotels and 
gaming-houses ? That your very name would become a bye- 
word and a reproach? Yet such will be the issue of your pro- 
tracted labours, your deep schemes of gain or ambition, your 
bright anticipations and your ravishing hopes, if the sons who 
are to succeed you, sink into habits of intemperance. 
Mothers! You have a still deeper interest in this matter, 
for you suffer still heavier affliction, from the drunkenness of 
your sons. In what other way, short of committing robbery, 
or murder,—and drunkenness may lead to both,—could your 
happiness be so mortally wounded? 
On whom but them, do you rely, when their fathers are 
mingled with the dust? But what reliance can be placed upon 
a son addicted to intemperance, with its disgusting consequences, 
idleness, extravagance, disobedience and treachery! Better 
for you, far better, would it be to stand alone on the earth, ex- 
posed like the last tree of the mountain, to every tempest, un- 
allied, unnoticed, unpitied, and desolate, than to rest under the 
calamity inflicted by a drunken and reckless son, with no hus- 
band to interpose the protecting hand of conjugal love, or wield 
the rod of paternal authority. 
Fathers and Mothers! You have daughters, the tender 
pledges of your virtuous love. They are 4 lilies of the valley/ 
whose unfolding beauties, you have beheld with a delight which 
no compass of language could express. In the feeble hours of 
infancy you have watched away the longest and dreariest nights 
over the cradle in which they lay scorched with fever, or 
writhing in convulsions. You have given them the first les- 
sons of instruction,—conducted and guarded their tottering 
footsteps in the open air—defended them against every assault 26 
of vice and violence—sought for them, the ablest teachers in 
all the branches of useful knowledge, and every accomplish- 
ment of mind and body. You have laboured to fashion their 
sentiments and manners after the best models of the age—you 
have led them with pride over the threshold of society, and 
perhaps resumed your suspended relations with its gayest cir- 
cles to accompany them, to guard them from treachery, to guide 
them by your wisdom, and to drink deeply of a gratification, 
which, in the world’s wide waste, flows not from a purer foun- 
tain. But to what end have you done all this, if your daugh- 
ter must be exiled from your arms to the loathsome companion- 
ship of a sot? If she be doomed to leave the happy and cheer- 
ful paternal mansion, venerable by every early association, its 
books, its little decorations by the hand of domestic taste, its 
enlightened visiters, and its thrilling scenes of family affection, 
for the dreary and echoing walls of the drunkard’s house, to 
wither in solitude, a transplanted and neglected flower! 
Parents! as you value the happiness of your daughters, I 
call upon you to discourage the intemperance of young men. 
As the number increases, the chances of consigning the bloom- 
ing objects of your love, to the society of drunkards, will like- 
wise increase. Discourage intemperance, not only in your 
own sons, but in the sons of your friends and neighbours, who, 
in the order of nature, must become the husbands and compa- 
nions, good or bad, of the daughters, whose destiny is to fix 
the character of your declining years. Do all that you can in 
this respect, and if fate should, at last, return upon you a bro- 
ken-hearted daughter, to die in the chamber which gave her 
birth, the consciousness of having performed your duty, will 
at least console you under this, the last dreadful calamity which 
can fall upon old age. 
To all who can realize the horrible consequences of intem- 
perance, it must be astonishing, that there are men and men of 
some influence too, who discourage by sneers or more deco- 
rous means, the efforts of the present age to repress drinking 
and drunkenness. I cannot but regret, that any should be so 
misguided, or so lukewarm in a cause of such great magnitude. 
He who has the smallest influence on others, should feel his re- 
sponsibility. No expression of his opinions can be without some 
effect. He is the repository, however limited, of a moral power; 27 
and, should be held accountable to society for the manner in 
which he exerts it. Public sentiment should arraign him for 
every abuse, and mete out its indignation according to the mea- 
sure of his transgressions. Can any man deny, that intemperance 
is a vice? that it is a vice which brings ruin on the individual, and 
wretchedness on those dependent on him? 
How then can any man justify himself for dropping even a 
solitary drop of cold water, on the genial fires of benevolence, 
which glow in the bosoms of those who devote their days and 
nights to the suppression of drunkenness ? Should they not ra- 
ther sustain the flame, and labour to render it perpetual ? What 
would be said of a man, who might rail against efforts to limit 
the number of thefts and murders which disgrace the land ? He 
would at least be denounced as a fool or a misanthrope! What 
is said of him who looks with displeasure on the laws against 
gambling? that he, himself, is a secret, though not a sleeping 
partner, in the midnight abominations of the gaming table! Why 
then should society tolerate those who array themselves against 
exertions to suppress intemperance; a vice, the effects of which, 
are but feebly embodied by gambling, robbery and murder? Ei- 
ther the head or the heart of such a one, must be wrong. If a 
good man, he is a weak man; if strong in intellect, he is pervert- 
ed in moral feeling. But, perhaps he may be perverted in his 
bodily feelings. Aye, he may himself, possibly, be inclined to 
the very habit, he thus indirectly encourages. He may, at 
least, be suspected, and should be listened to with caution. 
Every age brings forth its carpers; every scheme of philan- 
thropy or patriotism rears up its own blind or interested oppo- 
nents. They would retard that in which they do not partici- 
pate, not because it is bad, but because it is good, and they are 
too indolent, or too selfish, to lend a helping hand. They are 
however, but drift upon the mighty current of benevolence, 
which they may agitate, but can never arrest. 
The great men of the land should look to their example. 
Those who fill high offices—the distinguished of the learned pro- 
fessions—the aristocracy of wealth—the men of our chief cities 
—the community of self-styled gentlemen—the magi who wield 
the wand of fashion, at whose movements we see manners and 
customs rise and fall, as if by enchantment: these are they, who 
govern the destinies ot the multitude—who wield ‘a power 28 
greater, than that of the throne.’ From their lips, proceed pre- 
cepts, which all beneath them adopt as rules of conduct: by their 
example, will the actions of the nation be regulated. These are 
the men, among whom reformation should commence! where 
sobriety, and self-denial, and purity of manners, like purity and 
propriety of language, should be cherished and perpetuated. 
Their precepts should fall upon the millions below them, pure 
as the ‘fleeces of descending snow!1 They should stand forth as 
bright examples of temperance and virtue;—as burning and 
shining lights in the firmament of society, to guide the benighted 
footsteps of those who have no light in themselves. When the 
wealth and knowledge of a people, lend themselves to the prac- 
tice or countenance of vice, a moral overthrow is at hand. Ano- 
ther Phaeton has ascended the chariot of the sun, and great social 
desolation may be expected. While the men of wealth and the 
men of letters, preserve the integrity of their manners, the na- 
tional dignity is safe, and the virtue of the people uncontaminated. 
The stream which is pure and unpolluted in its fountains, can 
never afterwards be poisoned in its depths. Again, I say, let 
those who wield the sceptre of moral and social power, look well 
to themselves—they are models for imitation—their footsteps are 
trodden over, by long trains of followers;—their conversations 
rehearsed,—their maxims of life spread abroad upon the breath 
of the people. They live not for themselves only, as their lives 
modify, if they do not mould the destiny of the countless num- 
bers, less favoured than themselves:—If their example is bad* 
they inflict upon the age to which they belong a curse which de- 
scends to the third and fourth generations; if good; they exalt the 
nation, and perpetuate its happiness. 
Nations, like individuals, have had their rise and fall. But 
why should they? The individual man has his day of bodily 
perfection; then declines and descends to the tomb. Such is the 
law of his being. Human wisdom may prolong, but cannot per- 
petuate his existence. But nations are not under such a trial; 
and still they rise and fall. To assign all the causes of these vi- 
cissitudes, would require the analysis of their whole history. It 
may, however, be averred, in general terms, that they rise by their 
virtues, and sink by their vices and follies. Without wisdom and 
virtue, no nation ever rose; with them no nation would ever 
sink. Every vice is an element of national decay. Multiply 29 
vices, and at a greater rate you augment the tendency to decline. 
They are all so many modes of diseased action, in the great so- 
cial body, which may still remain sound in parts, but the hand 
of moral death is upon it. Its perpetual verdure begins to fade; 
its fruits fall, unripe and bitter, from the boughs; limb after limb 
is blighted, and tumbles to the ground;—the trunk itself ceases 
to grow, becomes hollow at the heart, but it lives on, a perishing, 
though never-dying victim of disease and desolation! 
Such has been the growth and decline of nations; and such it 
will be, until they learn wisdom, and walk no more in the paths 
of folly. Let no one presume to treat this subject with scorn 
or levity. I would ask such a one, if such there be, to say whe- 
ther national degradation and downfall would not come, from 
multiplying to a great extent, any single class of vicious men ? 
The number of those who sacrifice every thing to the pleasures 
of a luxurious table, or the hazards of the gaming table;—of 
those who labour to repress the spread of intelligence and reli- 
gion;—of those who employ unhallowed means to encompass 
wealth, or attain political power;—of those who encourage or 
indulge in idleness;—of those who drink themselves into sots and 
dumb brutes! what, I would again inquire, would befall the na- 
tion, in which either of these vices might become universal ? 
Why; it would sink! Though raised so high in the moral firma- 
ment, as to attract the gaze, and guide the footsteps of the whole 
earth, it would fall, and fall to rise no more! 
What, then, are the duties of patriotism? the dictates of bene- 
ficence? the requirements of religion? the demands of self-inte- 
rest properly understood?—To oppose wisdom to folly, and vir- 
tue to vice: To explore the fountains of crime, and dry them upr 
To throw across the pathway of every vice, a solid column of 
virtuous men, who should say at the beginning of its career, ‘ thus 
far shalt thou go and no farther:’ To look, like prudent physi- 
cians, to the forming stage of the moral disease, and arrest its de- 
velopement: To single out the infected, and brand them with a 
mark, or exclude them from society, that the sound may not be 
corrupted by their contact! By doing this we shall rest the des- 
tinies of our young and beloved country on its morals cemented 
by wisdom. Such a foundation will be imperishable. On it we 
should raise the pyramid of our liberties. Let us inscribe on its 
walls, the motto— 30 
Temperance !—Industry !—Intelligence !—Religion f 
It will then defy the revolutions which have prostrated those 
of other lands, and endure from generation to generation; a 
proud monument of that national grandeur, which passeth not 
away like a dream, but shines brighter and brighter unto the per- 
fect day!