LETTER XXXII.
Dear Charles,—You say, “let us turn from Dido to
the Temperance Reformation;” and, “that you are on the
point of withdrawing your name from the society at Somewhersburg,
because that society has forsaken the modesty
and simplicity of its first principles, &c.”
Do not, my friend, be hasty in executing that resolve;
although clergymen have sometimes good reason for alarm
and indignation: and, therefore, while we regret the withdrawal
of many sober and religious persons from us, yet
must it be conceded, that such were rather driven away, than
that they went voluntarily.
It is a grave question, however, whether these excellent
men have not thus lost the power and opportunity of guiding
the reformation. To the blind they seem opposed to
temperance, and thus lose influence, when in truth and
honesty they are only opposed to abuses. Clergymen ought
not to commit themselves to mere forms or phases of morals:
but is there not a broad platform where such can stand, and
yet not be identified with clans or sects in reformations too
exclusive and often vituperative? While clergymen must
move very gingerly in attaching themselves to many moral
reform societies, yet, if possible, let them not do what may
seem to oppose a moral reform.
Would the clergy have been so severely basted, lampooned,
stigmatized and hooted at, by certain infidel lecturers,
both local and circuitous in Sabbath day meetings, as men
too lordly to be seen with “renovated drunkards,” if the
clergy had not too easily abandoned the cause? And does
not that abuse, fanatical and illiberal as it is, insensibly, for
a time at least, injure clerical influence? Who then is to
blame, the black coats that have deserted us?—or our rampant
speechifiers, who often seem glad to have a target for
their mud-balls?
Some lecturers, by the way, reap a goodly harvest of
small coins by administering to our love of fun and frolic,
and also to our vindictive propensities, by caricature and
malediction. Such would, perhaps, be sorry to find “their
occupation gone,” from the want of gin-shops, tavern-keepers,
and apostate deacons. A backsliding parson, with them, is
“nuts and apples,” and when handsomely belabored, for
the amusement of the profane, lines the pockets of the lecturing
harlequin with coppers and shillings. This censure,
Charles, may seem harsh: but some fellows do rave in their
speeches, as if other foul spirits had taken possession of the
dispossessed as bad nearly as the alcoholic one lately ejected.
All Sunday lecturers are not quite so sober as the sermonizers
of the Bible. They foam sometimes as if seated upon
a tripod, in place of the repudiated gin cask.
Now, good Mr. Minister, what if you would honor the
Sunday meetings with your presence, and to prevent profanity
suppose you “open with prayer?” And to preclude infidel
twaddle, suppose you let them have “a word of exhortation;”
and to hush down ribald songs and slang, suppose you try a
little psalmody—would not all that do good and prevent evil?
But I shall add no more. If you intend to answer, let
your reverence answer temperately.
