Sermons by the Fathers of the Congregation of St. Paul the Apostle, Volume VI.

by Paulist Fathers; N.Y.) Church of St. Paul the Apostle (New York

If the character of the drink sold, or the adulteration of it, were always harmless to the consumer, there might be a semblance of palliation to this iniquity, though no just excuse even then; for in such a case the consumer does not get either what he supposes or the worth of his money. But when we see the dreadful effects produced by these liquors, the morbid cravings which they engender in those who partake of them, the extra-ordinary prostration of mind and body caused by a fit of intoxication on them, the physical and moral degradation resulting from their constant use, there can be no excuse for the dispensing of such noxious articles, and he who practises it is guilty of a fraud—a fraud of the basest and most criminal character upon the people, and makes himself a fit object for the scorn and righteous indignation of a just community.

Am I not right in saying that the dram-seller sins against justice?

2. The dram-seller sins against charity. He sins against himself, his spiritual and temporal good, and that of his family.

The business is a proximate occasion of sin, and good morals can never allow one to remain in that state. In the first place, it is a proximate occasion of the sin of drunkenness for himself and for the members of his household. The necessity of pleasing and attracting his customers obliges him often to treat and be treated during the day. The effect of this constant tippling is very visible in the persons of those who have been some time in the business, and the number of those who fall into the sin of drunkenness from the proximity of the occasion furnished by the sale is very great. It is not an unfrequent occurrence for them to take the pledge, in order to prevent themselves from drinking with their customers. Their wives, children, and clerks are exposed to the same occasion of sin. The language and character of the frequenters of the dram-shop are demoralizing to the last degree, not only to the man, but to the wife and children, and pave the way to every conceivable crime.

How many a young man has engaged in this vile traffic, who commenced it sober and virtuous, but who, by the occasions it presented, soon became a degraded and irreclaimable sot! And when he first thought of going into it, how his conscience reproved him, how often he reflected that this was not a fit thing for a good Catholic and practical Christian. When he met the priest in the street the day or so after the opening of his store or saloon, how he reddened up to the eyes, and was glad if he perchance passed him without observing him his pastor, whose nod, and smile, and shake of the hand, and cheery "God bless you!" he used to be so anxious and happy to have from the hour of childhood. But now his uneasy conscience keeps him away altogether from the Sacraments, and often from Mass. If people enquire what has become of him lately, or wonder that he is seen no longer at the altar, the answer that he "has opened a liquor store" is deemed a sufficient one. And knowing the wrongs from it, I thank God that there is such a sense of Christian propriety and rectitude in the public conscience left amongst us, that will deem such, a response a sufficient one.

I know that, as time goes on, and the greed of gain takes possession of them, the conscience gets less clamorous: but it is scarcely ever completely blunted. They are always rather ashamed of the business, and never mention the fact of their being engaged in it in an open, frank manner. A person, whom I did not know, called upon me once to consult me upon an affair, and I had occasion to ask him his profession. He replied, evasively, "I am a member of the ---- Convention." "But your business is--" "Oh!--ah! (hesitating) a grocery and liquor store."

But the sin which adds the last and most grievous stain upon the dram-seller and his traffic is the heinous breach of Christian charity against his neighbor. He wrongs his neighbor in his property, his person, his soul, his family, and in all his social relations. He makes bad husbands, bad wives, immoral children. And all good citizens and practical Catholics will bear me out in the assertion that the dram-shop is the gulf which swallows the hard earnings of the laboring classes; the health, property, happiness, life, and well-being of thousands of the community; and is the responsible first cause of the increase of pauperism, and crime, and the consequent burden of taxation upon the State. Recent statistics show that, in the cities of New York and Boston, there is a dram-shop for every one hundred inhabitants; and that, in Boston alone, the arrests for public drunkenness in one year were equal to one in ten of the entire population. This is a horrible state of things. As a contrast, I remember preaching a mission in a certain town where, by the exertions of the parish priest, all Catholics, save one, had given up the traffic. We found the sin of drunkenness in that place comparatively rare. No one who has examined the matter will pretend to dispute the fact that drunkenness increases in the same ratio with the multiplication of the dram shop. It is therefore a public nuisance, a crying scandal amongst us, a proximate occasion of sin, an iniquitous trade in which no good Christian can engage without putting the salvation of his soul in peril.

Such or such a man and his family whom you could name were happy enough before he got enticed into the dram-shop. It was a sight to make the angels smile to witness the clean, bright home that man found on his return from business. Every thing was there to cheer him. The wife welcomed him with an unclouded brow. The children dropped their playthings to run and embrace him. If he had not luxury about him, he had plenty and comfort. Plenty of furniture, plenty of clothes for his work, and a new suit for the Sunday morning. The table wanted nothing but the blessing upon the food whenever the meal time came. The doctor's bill never came so very heavy, and, if one of the family happened to be ill a little longer than common, he felt a worthy pride in being able to go and pay the doctor at his office, and exchange thanks. His name was good in the bank whenever he wanted money; and, as year by year rolled by, he was getting up in the world. Men talked of his "good luck," as they called it. Friends whispered, about election times, that he would make a capital fellow for this or that vacant office in his township. No family stood higher in respect, if they did in wealth, at the parish church than his. Happy and beloved at home in the bosom of his family; honored and respected abroad; at peace with God and man; what fiend will dare bring his foul presence within the circle of so much joy? Alas! for the dark day that he was bidden by the dram-seller to "be neighborly and come in and take a friendly glass." Alas! for the fatal hour when the tempter invited him to "come round of an evening, and be sociable, and not to be such a man-baby tied to his wife's apron-strings." Now it begins the oft-told, woeful tale. A hurried supper, and out for the evening. Later and later he returns, with the signs of liquor on him. He used to try to hide it at first by washing his mouth with water and taking a smart walk. But he takes too much now to care for Appearances; nor is he able for the walk.

In order to smooth over matters, he takes an opportunity on his wife's birthday, and brings out the bottle and proposes her health, and makes her drink with him; and then a little taste of the sugared drops at the bottom of the glass for the children. It is brought out every day now; and when the night comes, the wife sits up late, goes often to the window, watching his return, and there's a heavy weight at her heart that forces from her eyes many a bitter tear. The plague marches fast. He is drunk every Saturday night, and seldom goes to Mass. Work or business is neglected, and the time spent at the bar-room. The money leaks away extraordinarily fast. Articles of furniture are pawned—first for food, soon for drink. The wife helps on destruction by trying to drown her sorrow in a glass of liquor now and then. The best Sunday suit and the new bonnet and shawl are no longer in the wardrobe. The children's bare feet peep out of old shoes, and a strange sadness and silence has come over the once merry little group. They seem to be getting old-fashioned in their ways, and less like children. Is that the reason, I wonder, why there are no new toys and presents now at Christmas or at Easter, as in the days gone by? Soon comes debt. He had to go in debt to procure the necessaries of life, but spared a little of the borrowed money to get his daily drams at the grog-shop. But debt must be paid, and, as he has nothing to discharge it with, a few days of delay, and there is a sheriff's execution in the house. All the furniture swept, away! From bad to worse, from one step to an other: down goes the family to beggary and vice. Frequent quarrels, blows, and curses pass between husband and wife, the children and their parents. He gets an odd job to do now and then, for he is turned out of his regular situation, and drinks a part of the wages, not at his old friend's, but at a low beer-shop; for one night, after the sale of his house and lot, he demanded trust for liquor; but, as he had spent his last dollar, his friend, the dram-seller, told him, "he kept a decent place, and wouldn't have any drunkards around him," and kicked him out of doors, bidding him go home and take care of his wife and family! The wife begs around for broken victuals, with a downcast face, and her old hood pulled far over her forehead to hide a black eye and her untidy hair.