Intemperance is emphatically the parent of disease, mental and physical. Its direct effects are to blunt the faculty of correct thinking, and to paralyze the power of vigorous action. Nothing more effectually takes away from the human mind, its ordinary practical powers of discrimination and decision, without which man is like a leaf upon the tempest, or the chaff before the wind. Dr. Darwin has aptly compared the effects of spirituous liquors upon the lungs to the ancient fable of Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, who was punished for the theft by a vulture gnawing on the liver.[38] A striking allegory: but one which is not inaptly applied to characterize the painful and acute diseases which are visited upon the inebriate. Dr. Rush was an early advocate of the cause. He likened the effects of the various degrees of alcohol, in spirituous drinks, to the artificial mensuration of heat by the thermometer, and took a decided stand in pointing out its poisonous effects upon the system, in the generation of a numerous class of diseases, acute and chronic.
[38] Zoonomia.
If unhealthy food had been the cause of such disorders, the article would be rigidly shunned. No man would choose to eat twice of the cicuta; to use bread having a portion of lime in it; or to drink frequently of a preparation of sugar of lead. Even the intemperate would fear to drink of alcohol, in its state of chemical purity, for its effects would certainly be to arrest the functions of life. Yet he will drink of this powerful drug, if diluted with acids, saccharine and coloring matter, water and various impurities, under the disguised names of wine, brandy, rum, malt liquors, whisky, cordials, and mixed potations, which all tend to pamper the natural depravity of the human heart, and poison its powers of healthful action.
Alcohol is one of the preparations which were brought to light in the age of the Alchemysts—when the human mind had run mad in a philosophic research after two substances which were not found in nature—the philosopher's stone, and the universal panacea. One, it was believed, was to transmute all substances it touched into gold, and the other, to cure all diseases. The two great desires of the world—wealth and long life, were thus to be secured in a way which Moses and the Prophets had never declared. A degree of patient ascetic research was devoted to the investigation of natural phenomena, which the world had not before witnessed; and modern science is indebted to the mistaken labors of this race of chemical monks, for many valuable discoveries, which were, for the most part, stumbled on. So far as relates to the discovery of the alcoholic principle of grains, a singular reversal of their high anticipations has ensued. They sought for a substance to enrich mankind, but found a substance to impoverish them: they sought a power to cure all diseases, but they found one to cause them. Alcohol is thus invested with great talismanic power: and this power is not to create, but to destroy—not to elevate, but to prostrate—not to impart life, but death.
How extensive its uses are, as a re-agent and solvent, in medicine and the arts—or if its place could be supplied, in any instances, by other substances—are questions to be answered by physicians and chemists. But admitting, what is probable to my own mind, that its properties and uses in pharmacy and the arts are indispensable in several operations, in the present state of our knowledge—does this furnish a just plea for its ordinary use, as a beverage, in a state of health? No more than it would, that because the lancet and the probe are useful in a state of disease, they should be continued in a state of health. And do not every class of men who continue the use of ardent spirits, waste their blood by a diurnal exhaustion of its strength and healthy properties, more injurious than a daily depletion; and probe their flesh with a fluid too subtle for the physician to extract?
The transition from temperate to intemperate drinking, is very easy. And those who advocate, the moderate use of distilled spirits are indeed the real advocates of intemperance. No man ever existed, perhaps, who thought himself in danger of being enslaved by a practice, which he, at first, indulged in moderation. A habit of relying upon it is imperceptibly formed. Nature is soon led to expect the adventitious aid, as a hale man, accustomed to wear a staff, may imagine he cannot do without it, until he has thrown it aside. If it communicates a partial energy, it is the energy of a convulsion. Its joy is a phrenzy. Its hope is a phantom. And all its exhibitions of changing passion, so many melancholy proofs of
"the reasonable soul run mad."
Angelic beings are probably exalted above all human weaknesses.—But if there be anything in their survey of our actions which causes them to weep, it is the sight of a drunken father in the domestic circle.
Instructed reason, and sound piety, have united their voices in decrying the evils of intemperance. Physicians have described its effects in deranging the absorbent vessels of the stomach, and changing the healthy organization of the system. Moralists have portrayed its fatal influence on the intellectual faculties. Divines have pointed out its destructive powers on the soul. Poetry, philosophy and science, have mourned the numbers who have been cut down by it. Common sense has raised up its voice against it. It is indeed—
| "——a monster of so frightful mien, |
| That to be hated, needs but to be seen." |