Harding, Charles R.
Autobiography, 1807-1869
manuscripts -- American Antiquarian Society

[Harding was minister and temperance advocate. Because he traveled a good deal, his autobiography provides descriptions of conditions throughout much of New England.]

Chapter XXXVII: Achievements, in the cause of Temperence, in my day,

I will now take a brief survey of my publick life, and notice more in detail, some things which I have seen, and some of the changes that have come under my observation. First, when I commenced my publick career, intemperance was at a fearful height. The multitude, with few exceptions, drank rum. Ministers drank, churchmen drank, men drank, women drank; and children too. Every merchant sold it. It was a leading article of trade. It was the stimulant of the husbandsman, his crops could not be gotten in, or out, or off the field without it. It was as necessary for mechanical business, as water power, or tools. No marriage vows were complete without it, and no funeral party could mourn if it were wanting, it was as necessary to bury the dead, as a coffin, or a shroud. No favored parent, could rejoice over a new born babe, without plenty to drink. No building could be raised but by rum. It was an absolute necessity at huskings, at quiltings, at bees, at dances, and at parties of all kinds. It was the sweetener of social intercourse, and always stood upon the social board. Such was publick sentiment, and who had the temerity to oppose it? The hardihood to withstand it? No man was considered intemperate or intoxicated, if he could get home by holding on to the fence, and if not, his condition was a matter of merriment rather than regret. He who could drink the most, and the longest, was the hero, and if a man, a young man even, declined, for fear of being drunk, he was held up to publick scorn. This was an alarming state of things, beggary, pauperism, waste, dilapidation, misery, and wretchedness were on every hand. Whole neighborhoods, with few exceptions, were give up to this fell demon. You could tell a rum region in passing through it, chimmeys as though ashamed to show their heads, had drawn them in. Fences down, gates demolished, barn doors had given place to a few broken bars, and windows looked as though all the beggars in christendom had met and left their rags. Many saw the picture, and trembled, but how to stop the flood, was the question, entire abstinence was not to be thought of, and how to put checks upon it, puzzled the wisest heads, Ministers were becoming drunkards, church members, deacons, leaders, and stewards even, were becoming drunkards. Lawyers and statemen, and finally the rich as well as the poor, the high as well as the low, were becoming drunkards. What shall be done, was the anxious enquiry. Efforts were put forth to throw restraints around the evil, and moderation was urged, a few societies were formed pledging their members not to get drunk, total abstinence, none thought of. A convention of Ministers was called, somewhere in Conn., to devise some remedy, and after the mornings deliberations, they retired to the house of the resident Clergman, for dinner--their host bringing on his decanters, says "we have worked hard, now let us take a drink." But it was soon found that pledges to moderation, and all restraints imposed, as long as it was used at all, were like ropes of sand. This picture though startling, has not been overdrawn, it was a time of great darkness--so great was it that many professedly pious christians, urged its use. "It helped them to enjoy their minds so much better." At this stage of things, a standard was lifted up, Dr. Beecher, Dr. Fisk, and a few others had solved the question, and an important one it was; the remedy was simple, "Stop drinking, abstain entirely." They send out their appeals. They speak in eloquence that burns, in logick that withers. The clergy, first in every good work, are the first to move in this, now the wind begins to blow from a healthy quarter.1 Some ministers to be sure were dismissed and others greatly troubled for preaching, "Temperance." I think it was in the town of Hadley, the aged and venerable clergyman opened his battery on this evil, but was soon waited upon by a committee, assuring him if he did not cease speaking upon this subject, they should be obliged to dismiss him, his quiet, but heroick reply was "Well dismiss me if you will, I will go away and tell the world, old Hadley has got drunk, and spewed up its minister."

1For a sign of this change, consider the famous (1849) Currier and Ives print, "The Tree of Intemperance," with branches labeled "misery," "insanity," and the like.