But drunkenness, my lords, not only corrupts men, by taking away the sense of those restraints by which they are generally kept in awe, and withheld from the perpetration of villanies, but by superadding the temptations of poverty, temptations not easily to be resisted, even by those whose eyes are open to the consequences of their actions, and which, therefore, will certainly prevail over those whose apprehensions are laid asleep, and who never extend their views beyond the gratification of the present moment.
Drunkenness, my lords, is the parent of idleness; for no man can apply himself to the business of his trade, either while he is drinking, or when he is drunk. Part of his time is spent in jollity, and part in imbecility; when he is amidst his companions he is too gay to think of the consequences of neglecting his employment; and when he has overburdened himself with liquor, he is too feeble and too stupid to follow it.
Poverty, my lords, is the offspring of idleness, as idleness of drunkenness; the drunkard's work is little and his expenses are great; and, therefore, he must soon see his family distressed, and his substance reduced to nothing: and surely, my lords, it needs not much sagacity to discover what will be the consequence of poverty produced by vice.
It is not to be expected, my lords, that a man thus corrupted will be warned by the approach of misery, that he will recollect his understanding, and awaken his attention; that he will apply himself to his business with new diligence, endeavour to recover, by an increase of application, what he has lost by inattention, and make the remembrance of his former vices, and the difficulties and diseases which they brought upon him, an incitement to his industry, a confirmation of his resolution, and a support to his virtue.
That this is, indeed, possible, I do not intend to deny; but the bare possibility of an event so desirable, is the utmost that can be admitted; for it can scarcely be expected, that any man should be able to break through all the obstacles that will obstruct his return to honesty and wisdom; his companions will endeavour to continue the infatuating amusements which have so long deluded him; his appetite will assist their solicitations; the desire of present ease by which all mankind are sometimes led aside from virtue, will operate with unusual strength; since, to retrieve his misconduct, he must not only deny himself the pleasure which he has so long indulged, but must bear the full view of his distress from which he will naturally turn aside his eyes. The general difficulty of reformation will incline him to seek for ease by any other means, and to delay that amendment which he knows to be necessary, from hour to hour, and from day to day, till his resolutions are too much weakened to prove of any effect, and his habits confirmed beyond opposition.
At length, necessity, immediate necessity, presses upon him; his family is made clamorous by want, and his calls of nature and of luxury are equally importunate; he has now lost his credit in the world, and none will employ him, because none will trust him, or employment cannot immediately be, perhaps, obtained; because his place has for a long time been supplied by others. And, even if he could obtain a readmission to his former business, his wants are now too great and too pressing to be supplied by the slow methods of regular industry; he must repair his losses by more efficacious expedients, and must find some methods of acquisition, by which the importunity of his creditors may be satisfied.
Industry is now, by long habits of idleness, become almost impracticable; his attention having been long amused by pleasing objects, and dissipated by jollity and merriment, is not readily recalled to a task which is unpleasing, because it is enjoined; and his limbs, enervated by hot and strong liquors, liquors of the most pernicious kind, cannot support the fatigues necessary in the practice of his trade; what was once wholesome exercise is now insupportable fatigue; and he has not now time to habituate himself, by degrees, to that application which he has intermitted, that labour which he has disused, or those arts which he has forgotten.
In this state, my lords, he easily persuades himself that his condition is desperate, that no legal methods will relieve him; and that, therefore, he has nothing to hope but from the efforts of despair. These thoughts are quickly confirmed by his companions, whom the same misconduct has reduced to the same distress, and who have already tried the pleasures of being supported by the labour of others. They do not fail to explain to him the possibility of sudden affluence, and, at worst, to celebrate the satisfaction of short-lived merriment. He, therefore, engages with them in their nocturnal expeditions, an association of wickedness is formed, and that man, who before he tasted this infatuating liquor, contributed every day, by honest labour, to the happiness or convenience of life, who supported his family in decent plenty, and was himself at ease, becomes at once miserable and wicked; is detested as a nuisance by the community, and hunted by the officers of justice; nor has mankind any thing now to wish or hope with regard to him, but that by his speedy destruction, the security of the roads may be restored, and the tranquillity of the night be set free from the alarms of robbery and murder.
These, my lords, are the consequences which necessarily ensue from the use of those pernicious, those infatuating spirits, which have justly alarmed every man whom pleasure or sloth has not wholly engrossed, and who has ever looked upon the various scenes of life with that attention which their importance demands.
Among these, my lords, the clergy have distinguished themselves by a zealous opposition to this growing evil, and have warned their hearers with the warmest concern against the misery and wickedness which must always be the attendants or the followers of drunkenness. One among them [Footnote: Bishop of SARUM.], whose merit has raised him to a seat in this august, assembly, and whose instructions are enforced by the sanctity of his life, has, in a very cogent and pathetical manner, displayed the enormity of this detestable sin, the universality of its prevalence, and the malignity of its effects; and in his discourse on the infirmary of this city, has observed with too much justness, that the lowest of the people are infected with this vice, and that even necessity is become luxurious.