My name is Alcohol! I solicit the favor of your attention to a subject, which lies near my heart. I am a great prince, and, like other distinguished potentates, I have my followers. To thousands and tens of thousands of these, I feel under profound obligations for the homage they have done me. They have loved me to intoxication; and, in doing me reverence, have often fallen at my feet. If the heathen prostrate themselves before stocks and stones, may not Christians prostrate themselves before me?
Allow me to tell you something of my subjects. Let me expatiate upon their merits. Let me set forth some of their characteristics; and then pronounce your judgment—then say, if monarch ever had higher reason than Alcohol to be proud of his people.
And first; my followers are remarkably devoted.
From the standards of Napoleon, Wellington, and even that of Washington, desertion was not uncommon. But, until recently, this crime has scarcely been known in my army. For my sake I have known my friends forsake father and mother, wife and children. Nay, such has been their zeal in my cause, that they have sacrificed property, health, and even life itself. Indeed, I may say, that from a pure devotion to me, thousands have come to an untimely grave.
The most popular monarchs have their enemies. Doubtless, I have mine, particularly in these sad days of delusion and pretended reform. But, then, I have reason to think, that some, and probably the number is large, though ostensibly my enemies, are secretly my friends. From motives of policy, they say they must appear to be against me, but when closeted they assure me that they still love me, and I think they often give no small evidence of the fact. They have a deep intestine attachment to me. Upon these friends I depend to restore me to my former honors, and had they the power, I think I should reign as triumphantly as ever.
Before I proceed farther, I must say a word about my domestic affairs, and which explains the trouble that has grown up in society, in respect to me. Many years ago I was married to Cold Water. We had a large family, the pride of which we called Grog, and a glorious fellow he was too. I hardly knew his equal, unless it was Toddy—the drollest dog you ever met with. Such times as we did have! Toddy, Grog, and the rest, used to fall to and scratch, bite, pull hair, give black eyes, &c. Those were glorious days, and I am sorry to say, that the times have grown very degenerate. I positively fear that a row or a black eye will not be heard of ten years hence.
However, I must go on with my speech. Some evil-minded persons brought about a divorce between me and Cold Water; she then set up for herself, and since that time, there’s been a regular strife between us. We’re now trying to see which shall get the biggest army, and the consequence is that society is torn to pieces. My dear friends, listen to me, and then choose on which side you will enlist.
Let me tell you something about my followers. In the first place they are brave. In a single instance, during the revolutionary war, the English officers mingled gunpowder with the spirit, in order to inspire their soldiers with greater courage. I could have taught them a better lesson than this. They needed a little Fourth proof Jamaica. Fourth proof, you observe—that manufactures the courage. Why, I never yet saw an army or a rabble, whose courage flagged, if they had taken a sufficient quantity of the pure “critter,”—pure, pure, you observe, not weakened down till you couldn’t tell whether there was most water, or most spirit. I have some veterans in my service, which I think would stand an action as hot as Bunker Hill is said to have been. These are my red-eyed and red-nosed soldiers, and whom I keep as a corps de reserve. I think of enrolling them in a regiment by themselves. They are without “fear of things present or things to come.” Promotion is certain in this corps, and all my soldiers get into it, after a proper length of service. My subjects, also, possess strong points of similarity.
And 1st., of their uniform. The uniform adopted by me is red, sometimes bearing upon purple. My subjects look exceedingly well in it, especially when set with jewels, known by the name of carbuncles. A few prefer a pale exterior for their uniform, inclining to yellow. These are those whom I call gin-ites. They are mostly of the softer sex, who have acquired this pallid look by the use of gin or opium, and snuff. To my eye, there is nothing in creation half so beautiful as a woman, under the influence of gin or opium, in the attitude of taking snuff, especially when her fingers scatter it over her dress like a Scotch mist.
2d. Language. My subjects belong to different countries, and consequently speak different languages. But even here strong resemblances may be traced. Whatever be their mother tongue, their accents, inflexions and cadences, especially the latter, are strikingly similar. Some lisp beautifully—some have an elegant clip of their words—others at times are affected with hesitancy and stammering, or perhaps they are unable to speak at all. I have known persons complain that it is difficult to understand them; but it must be remembered, that union is a great thing, and this affection of the speech makes all alike, and therefore cultivates fellow-feeling, which makes us kind to one another.