WINES AND OTHER ALCOHOLIC DRINKS.
Woman rules in the social sphere, and is responsible for its vices. If women would expressly disapprove of wine-drinking, soon, among the decent classes, it would become obsolete.
Clara P. came from Portsmouth to Boston about twenty years ago, to seek her fortune as a teacher of the piano. Wholesome in person, and interesting in manners, she not only won pupils, but social recognition.
At a reception in Somerset St., she was asked to join in a glass of wine. Hinting at a shadow in her family history, she quietly declined, and fell into a sad, thoughtful mood.
A month later, at a similar gathering in the same house, she was confidentially told by the lady of the house, that two gentlemen who were present at the previous reception, had just requested her not to offer wines, as Miss. P. was made unhappy by it. The wines were not brought out, and no farther allusion was made to the subject. At several other social gatherings, when Miss P. was present, the same respectful deference was paid to her feelings; and yet this young woman did not belong to the most influential class.
Mrs. F. was married two years, when rum turned her little quiet home into a hell. Broken-hearted and sick, she left her baby son with her sister, and came to Boston to rest her aching head and sore heart, and to earn a living. She advertised for a place as housekeeper, and had several interviews with ladies and gentlemen who were in pursuit of a housekeeper. She told her story to each one in turn, and was quickly dropped by one and another, until her last dollar had been paid for bread and shelter; and then came a manly man who was touched by her sad recital, and said at once:
"Come, work and rest with us."
He took her to a beautiful house in Mt. Vernon St. and left her in charge of a fashionable, helpless family. Mrs. F. soon established herself in the confidence of the household. In a few days there came a party, and the housekeeper was busy enough. Among other duties was the delivery to the waiters of bottles of wine. Mrs. F. called the gentleman of the house, and said:
"You have been very kind to me, and I will do anything for you, but I hope you will excuse me from this; my hands refuse." The Colonel called one of the colored boys, and gave him the key of the wine- cellar, and the entertainment went on as usual. Up stairs the housekeeper's notion was mentioned, and one of the young men cried out:
"Come gentlemen, fill up, fill up; here's to the health of the brave housekeeper, and long may she wave."
The lady of the house thought it very queer, and next day sought an explanation. It was, after some reluctance, given with tears and passionate ejaculations. The lady thought there might be danger; indeed her husband and oldest son had of late seemed too fond of wine. Several conversations followed between the two mothers, and the lady, just previous to the next social gathering, said to her husband at the breakfast table, in the presence of her sons:
"What do you say to having no wine tonight? That story of Mrs. F.'s has really frightened me?"
"Now," said the husband, "don't you go to preaching temperance; it's enough to have one woman in the house teaching morals."
"But," said the anxious wife and mother, "I was not preaching; I was just asking what you thought of it; and if you were willing, I had made up my mind to turn over a new leaf in our receptions."
Husband,—"Well, then I shall go in for abandoning coffee and tea. I think they do a great deal more harm than wine!"
Herbert,—"Yes, and how it would sound with all our fellows here, to tell them with solemn faces, that we were afraid they would all become drunkards, and so we must deny them. Oh, pshaw! I should never hear the last of it."
Mother,—"I can only say that when they were here last, several of them, including my own dear Herbert, drank too much."
Herbert,—"I think we had better turn it into a prayer-meeting at once."
Father,—"Oh well, mother, let us eat our breakfast in peace. We will speak of it some other time."
During the day the two mothers held a long conversation, in which Mrs. F described the beautiful, fresh face and spirit of Charles, before the dreadful thirst took possession of him, and the horrible, brutal oaths and passion which followed.
The two sad ones closed their long conversation, as women are wont to when in real trouble, by earnest, tearful prayer.
The lady of the house said to herself, "My husband is always declaring that I am the queen of his castle; that he attends to everything in his business outside, and never wants me to interfere; but that he leaves everything at home to me,—that here I am mistress of all. I wonder if this is so. God helping me, I will try my authority, this very night."
John was ordered to bring round the carriage, and soon after, a lady might have been seen down in Kilby St., in earnest conversation with a certain well-known wine merchant; and just before dark, two men, with a wagon at the back door, were very busy up in the rear of Mt. Vernon St.
About eleven o'clock that evening, the Colonel rang the bell for
Richard, when the good wife interrupted him by saying:
"Gentlemen, will you not join me in a cup of coffee to-night, instead of the wine?"
"Certainly, madam, most certainly! while we are your guests, we place ourselves at your disposal!"
The bright urn was brought in, and placed upon the side-board, and the waiters, who had received special instructions, acquitted themselves with marked success.
If you could have placed your ear at a certain keyhole, after the family had retired that night, you would have heard a very earnest conversation.
A woman is heard to say, "But, husband, what do you mean, when you say that I rule here, just as you rule in your business? Do you mean to say that when I see my own darling son entering the path that leads to a drunkard's grave in our own house, I have nothing to say or do, but must wait for you to determine the details of our social entertainments? What do I rule over in our home, if not over the entertainment of our guests? What would you say if I were to go down to your counting room to-morrow, and attempt to over-rule your decisions? You are always saying that I am supreme here in our home, and now when I alter a little the details of our social entertainments, you say that I have assumed to determine what you shall eat and drink, that you won't be henpecked, and that you won't stand it, and all that sort of thing. Will you be kind enough to tell me which portion of the housekeeping you intend to leave to me, and exactly, in detail, what I may attend to here in our home, without asking your permission. It's of no use for you to say that I may attend to everything else but this one thing; God has given me a yearning for our boy, and, if you will force me to say it, for my own dear misguided husband, which forbids my abandonment of my duties and rights in this matter. In the light of this poor woman's dreadful history, God has shown me my duty, and, my dear husband, I shall perform it in His fear. No more wine will be served in our house, on any occasion, with my consent."
Husband,—"I will turn that meddlesome woman into the street to- morrow morning before breakfast, bag and baggage!"
"You will do nothing of the kind, for I have determined to keep her."
"Well, we'll see; I will hustle her off as soon as I am out of my bed."
Of course she was not sent away; and when, a year after, that family was earnestly pushing the interests of the cause of Temperance, the Colonel went himself with Mrs. F., the housekeeper, to bring her little son to the city, where in the beautiful home on Mt. Vernon St. he soon became not only a pet, but, as usual, a king and tyrant.
These events occurred about twenty-seven years ago. To-day Herbert, —the oldest son—and Mr. F., the housekeeper's husband, are partners in one of the largest concerns in this city.
If women knew how complete is their dominion in the social sphere, and would exercise their power, rum and tobacco would quickly disappear from the better classes, throughout the civilized world.
An effort among a few young women in the neighborhood of this city, induced more than fifty young men to abandon cigars. One young fellow swore by all the gods that he would smoke as long as he pleased, and so he did; but he did not please to continue very long after several of the young ladies had had interviews with him.
In Dixon, Ill., fifty good women called at every rum-hole in town. There were forty nine of them. In each place they read a touching "Appeal from the Women of Dixon to the Venders of Intoxicating Drinks in Dixon," joined in a brief prayer, sang a verse, and went on to the next "rum-hole." This they repeated every day for a week, when there were no places left to visit.
The women of Battle Creek, Mich., tried the same thing. One hundred of them went, without parade or notice, to all the "rum-holes" in the city every day, till there was not one that dared open its doors. I was there at the time, and could tell you thrilling stories of the encounters of these noble, brave women with the venders of what a clergyman—a friend of mine—calls "liquid hell-fire."
But I hasten on to give you a very interesting illustration of the power of woman in the summary abatement of social nuisances. Although in lecturing upon "Woman's Influence in the Cause of Temperance," I have frequently given the facts entire, with the names of the parties, it has occurred to me that in writing it out for a book, it would be only just to avoid mentioning names, as many members of the families involved, are now most respectable people, and earnest advocates of Temperance.
Well, this is the story:—In a small factory village (say in Pennsylvania) with a thousand inhabitants, there were five "rum- holes." The men of the little community spent their time in the drinking places, while their children earned the family bread by long hours in the mills. The mothers were busy in caring for their children and drunken husbands, and many of them strove to add to the comforts of the family, by the use of the needle.
At length, on a Saturday night, several boys, coaxed by a scamp, drank freely of whiskey, and were taken home helplessly intoxicated; two of them came near dying. The good mothers were on fire. They had long since abandoned all hope for their husbands, but they would never, never consent that their boys should become drunkards. By a common impulse they gathered in the little church on the hill, and held a meeting for prayer and weeping. After three hours of passionate ejaculation, tears and heart-breaking agony, they resolved as follows:
"We will make a banner with our own hands. On one side it shall bear the figure of a child drinking from a bucket, that beverage, which God has prepared for his creatures. On the other side we will work this sentiment, 'Mothers will sacrifice all for their Children.' When it is done, we will go to these men with our banner for the rallying flag, pray with them, plead with them, and never give up till they stop."
In two weeks they were ready, and eighty-four women (all mothers but four) with their little silken banner at their head, marched down to the first of the "rum-holes," and were met by the landlord (curious misnomer) and told that they could pass on; that if they came in there, they would be sorry for it, &c. They had had no experience, did not know their power, were frightened, and hurried on. The second landlord was a younger man, not so hard, and said, after looking over the company:
"Why, is it possible that all the good women in town are after me in this way? Why, of course I will stop, if they all wish it; that is to say, I will stop if the rest will."
"Mr. Warner, here is our paper; put down your name and say exactly what you will do; we are here on no idle errand."
So he put down his name with the words:
"I will stop if the rest will."
"John Warner."
They went on to the next one, who kept a bowling and billiard saloon as well as a drinking "hole," and laid their case before him.
He was a young man, and enjoyed a prodigious reputation as a "ladies man," and of course put down his name under John Warner's, and was careful to prefix the words,
"Ladies, I am your most obedient servant.
Henry Hinkle."
To make the story as short as possible, I will simply state that all but the first one on whom the ladies called—Hank Otis—stopped at once (doubtless at first to see how the thing would turn out) and then the ladies went down early in the morning and crowded into Hank's den. He came in, just out of bed, and was astonished to find his "grocery" crowded full of women. He had sworn to his cronies that if he ever caught "them women here, I will pitch 'em all into the street;" but on that morning, looking into the earnest faces of the crowd gathered about him, it occurred to him that pitching them into the street might not be a popular neighborhood movement, and so he did the next best thing—sent for his big easy chair, had a pillow brought for his head, another chair and pillow for his heels, and then cried out:
"Ladies, I am glad to see you; I an always glad to see my neighbors, especially the ladies. Now, ladies, do take seats (there was not another chair in the room) and go on; I shall be delighted to hear you."
They did go on; they cried, begged, plead, argued, reasoned and expostulated; they read from the Bible, they prayed, sang, and kept it up till twelve o'clock. A relative and very dear friend of mine was one of the company, and she has told me that she never witnessed such a scene,—it was enough to break a heart of stone.
About twelve o'clock, they said:
"Good morning, Mr. Otis; we will come again to-morrow morning."
"Do come, ladies, and come early; I hope you will never pass without dropping in. I am always glad to see my neighbors, especially the ladies."
The women went next morning before Hank was out of bed; as soon as he came in and took his chair, they began with singing and prayer. Pretty soon Otis pretended to be asleep, and snored prodigiously; but they knew he was awfully wide awake. During the whole forenoon they sang, prayed, begged, plead, expostulated, and then sang and prayed again.
About noon Otis noticed that they suddenly ceased, and he wondered what was to come next. He opened one eye a little, and saw they were pulling out their luncheons. He groaned in spirit, but comforted himself with the reflection, that he could sit as long as they could stand. Soon they began again with prayer, and after another hour they closed with a song, and saying:
"Good afternoon, Mr. Otis; we will come again to-morrow morning," they left him.
Hank had nothing to say, for he felt that soon he must give way. But the next morning he was up early, and ready to receive them.
They began, and when they came to the part where they said, "we will support your family with our needles; we should be proud and happy to do so, if you will only close your place," he could stand it no longer, and springing to his feet, cried out:
"There is one thing I want to know, and that is, how long is this infernal business going to last?"
One of the earnest mothers replied:
"What God has in reserve for us we can't say, but if He permits us to live, we shall come here every day till this place is closed. Mr. Otis, you think we are joking, that it is a foolish whim of ours; but, sir, we have entered into a solemn vow to struggle against this curse, which threatens to engulf our all, as long as God gives us the breath of life."
"Ladies, how long will you give me to stop?"
"You will have to take your own time."
"Well, in ten days I will stop, and on my honor as a gentleman, I will never begin again, in this town!"
"Oh, Mr. Otis," exclaimed one poor sufferer, "don't go on ten days; my poor Sam may become a drunkard in that time; stop now, and God will bless you."
"Well, ladies, I will pour out my liquors to-morrow morning at nine o'clock, and that shall be the last of it."
The next morning the whole village was there to see; the liquors were brought out with a great flourish, poured into the gutter, and they ran down into the stream below.
Although that village was so situated as to be peculiarly exposed to the evils of intemperance, and although this happened many years ago, I believe that not one glass of strong drink has been sold within its precincts, from that day to this. Those brave women have ever stood ready to attack, with their own peculiar weapons, the enemy who would open a pitfall for their sons.
Here and there, throughout the country, earnest mothers, wives, sisters and daughters have undertaken to exterminate the neighborhood grog-shops; and while men have constantly failed, these determined women have rarely failed to achieve a complete victory.
Women rule in the social sphere, and are responsible for its vices.
In all this world, there is no other spectacle so bewildering and so sad, as this queen of the social sphere, living in the midst of drunken howls, the sickening fumes of tobacco, and in a hot-bed of licentiousness, and hiding the magic wand with which she might dispel every social iniquity, and then standing before a mirror, paint her cheeks and eyebrows, and adjust her curls, and ribbons, and flowers, and bows and jewelry.
It is no mere figure of speech, to say that God will hold her responsible for all this silly, shameless abandonment and betrayal of her high and sacred trusts!