Unhappily for society, John Bristow’s is not a solitary case of the but too frequent indulgence in this fatal propensity.
Within the last week or so the papers have recorded a fatality at the Alexandra Palace which, in most of its features, resembles the wretched end of John Bristow.
The increase of intemperance in this country in the present day is an inexhaustible theme for moralists, economists, and philanthropists.
Drunkenness is the parent of crime, of pauperism, and of misery and degeneracy. It is not possible to calculate the evils that ensue from the pernicious and demoralising effects of a maddening propensity for drink.
The wretched and careworn doubtless fly to it as their only solace. For a time their spirits are raised, but a reaction soon takes place, and at any cost they must procure more stimulants. The end of this may be readily imagined.
How to deal with this gigantic national vice, on which, as yet, no impression has been made, is a question not so easily answered.
If there is one thing more certain than another, it is that, as wealth outstrips culture, sensuality outstrips refinement.
The illiterate millionaire who feasts his guests on turtle and champagne is about the counterpart of the ignorant artisan, who, out of his week’s earnings, treats a less fortunate comrade to a bottle of whiskey or gin.
England for many a day has been brought up in the worship of Mammon and Bacchus, and we are afraid, despite the efforts of the Legislature, intemperance is a vice which we must lay to our account for many years to come.
This, it must be admitted, is very sad to reflect upon.