Chapter II: Part 2

It may seem as if the subject of fasting had been already disposed of. And so it has, perhaps, in the usual sense of the word; we are not required, nor would it probably be advisable, to keep a more rigorous fast than the Church prescribes, at least in point of quantity; but we may give up some things in the way of food, which are not forbidden, practising some voluntary mortification or self-denial, as far as the strength of our souls and bodies will allow. {48} It rarely does us much harm to deny our taste something; to give up or limit ourselves in something which we like particularly, if we do not really need it, and there be plenty besides. And though abstaining from the sin of drunkenness is not probably a mortification, but a most severe obligation at all times, yet, as in this penitential season this vice seems to acquire new malignity, still greater precautions ought to be taken in those occasions which might lead to it.

But the word fasting really means more than abstaining from food and drink. It implies self-denial in other ways; and there are a great many ways in which we can deny ourselves besides eating and drinking. The tongue, for example, can be restrained in speaking, as well as in its sense of taste. We can talk a good deal less than we might without sin, as well as eat less, and yet be none the worse for it. Then we can restrain our curiosity for news, both public and private; we can refuse to gratify our sight, hearing, and other senses--in short, there are plenty of ways for one who has the will. {49} But if we have no will for such voluntary mortification, we can at least take patiently what we have to suffer from cold, fatigue, or any pain of body or mind; and not complain of those grievances which come to us from the neglect or carelessness, or even from the bad will, of others, and of which it might seem that we have, in some sense, a right to complain. We may well consider that we have forfeited our rights by sin, and that though sometimes we are bound to claim them, yet often it will be better to give them up. But what are the motives for all this self-denial? There are many. One is to make up, in some degree, for having gone beyond what was allowable by now stopping somewhat short of it; that is, to atone for our sins. But besides this, it makes us love ourselves less, and God and our neighbor more; and it makes us a great deal more free really than if we were all the time having our own way, for it takes away a thousand cares and anxieties which are all the time distracting us, and keeping us from attaining the end for which we were created. Nor can we be happy without self-denial, strange as it may seem; for we cannot be happy unless we are contented; and the only way to become contented is to cease to care about the many things which we are always desiring but often cannot have; and the only way to do this thoroughly is sometimes to give them up when we can have them. Besides this, God is pleased and gives us grace when we deny our selves; for it shows our love for Him. {50} And at this time He seems specially to ask these sacrifices from us. "Now is the acceptable time"; and if we do not make them now, there is not much chance that we will at any other season of the year.

Then we must make more prayer now than usual, employing in this way the time that we cut off from other things. Try to come to early Mass on week-days; of course, nothing can be better than to assist at this, the greatest act of Christian worship. Also, come to Vespers on Sunday, and say the beads at home, in common if possible, and as many other prayers as there is time for, especially such as are indulgenced, for these are, of course, more powerful in satisfying for sin. And in this time of special trial for the Church and the Holy Father, we will not forget to pray that the triumph of our Faith, which is sure to come sooner or later, may be speedy; that the plans of the persecutors of the Holy See may be utterly defeated; and that they may return as obedient children to their Mother and ours, the Holy Catholic and Roman Church.

But, besides these devotions, which we can practise at any time, there are also others peculiar to this season: those in the church on Wednesday and Friday nights, which will be the same as in previous years, and which will, no doubt, be attended as well as or even better than they have been heretofore. {51} There will be a sermon every Wednesday, and the Stations on Friday. Next to repenting of sin and confessing it, one can hardly do anything more pleasing to God in the time of Lent than to assist at the Stations, and help to commemorate His bitter sufferings and those of His Blessed Mother. "He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our sins; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and by His bruises we are healed." Surely, the least we can do at this season, when the Church presents His Passion to our minds, is to come and go with Him over the way of sufferings by which we were redeemed. You will notice, also, by looking at the table of festivals at the door, that the Church commemorates, on every Friday during Lent, some one of the mysteries of the Passion. These mysteries we will do well to think of specially. Try to come every Wednesday and Friday, and not miss a single evening from this to Good Friday; and also persuade others to come who are not here to-night, or who have not been in the habit of coming; and come not for amusement, or even principally for instruction, but for the honor and glory of God and the good of your souls.

{52}

Much hardly needs to be said about alms, the last of the eminent good works. It is evident enough how pleasing it is to God, and what a rich reward it secures for us. In the office of next Sunday the Church reminds us specially of this, saying, in the words of Holy Scripture, "Break thy bread for the hungry, and bring the needy and wandering into thy house; then shall thy light shine forth as the morning, and thy justice shall go before thy face." And, during the following week, she repeats: "Give alms to the poor, and it shall pray for thee to the Lord; for as water quenches fire, so do alms extinguish sin." That is, if we have repented of our sins, almsgiving will satisfy for them; and if we have not, almsgiving will help us to have contrition to repent, and will move God to give us abundant grace; He will be obliged, as it were, by gratitude, to give it to us; for He has said, "As long as you did it to one of these My least brethren, you did it to Me." Almsgiving will not save us without repentance, but it will help us very much to have repentance; and, to impress us with its importance, our Lord seems, in His own description of the last judgment, to make our salvation depend upon the charitable works which we have done in this life. And if, by His grace, we have repented of sin and confessed it, almsgiving will give us a degree of merit and amount of reward which we may, in one sense, call unjust and excessive, so great is the mercy of God.

{53}

Fasting, prayer, and alms; self-denial, devotion, and charity; these are the principal good works at this and every time; but they are more urgent and necessary now than usual, if we wish to obtain the special fruit of this holy season. And, besides these, we must not put away the spirit of humiliation and penance expressed in receiving the ashes this morning. These are not for Ash-Wednesday alone, but for the whole of Lent. We must abandon, in spirit at least, the vain distinctions by which we are trying to raise ourselves above others, and follow, at a great distance, the example of our God and Saviour, who, being our Creator and absolute Master, became the servant of servants for our sake. And we have an immense number of sins which are not yet fully expiated; for these we must do penance sometime or other, before death or after it, in this world or in purgatory. We can do it better now than at any other time; first, because we are obliged to do some difficult things, which can be made to pay this temporal debt if they are done with the right spirit and intention; and, also, because penance is the spirit of the season, and we can come to the church oftener, and do of our own accord other things which are a little inconvenient and put us to some trouble, without any danger of attracting attention or of getting proud about it; for others will be doing the same.

{54}

Finally, my brethren, in the words of the Apostle, "We exhort you that you receive not the grace of God in vain." This may be our last Lent; it certainly will be for some of us; but, at any rate, we shall not feel sorry to have spent it as if it were so. God's love for us is immense; He is continually giving us fresh graces, which we are trampling under our feet; but there will come a time when I will not say His patience will be exhausted, but when, in the course of His providence, we must be taken from this world, and grace for us will be no more. Then, when we lie on our death-bed, we shall look back--if, indeed, we are able to collect our thoughts--upon the gifts of God which we have thrown away, and wish most earnestly for a day, or even an hour, of the time that we have wasted. Then, if we have spent this Lent badly, we shall remember it and the others that we have neglected, and bitterly repent our neglect when it is too late. Then we shall fear and tremble at the thought of the awful judgment of God, before whose face we are so soon to appear; or, if we have confidence that by His mercy the guilt of our sins has been taken away, we shall still feel how unfit we are, after a sinful life, to remain in His sight, and shall see the flames of purgatory prepared to expiate those offences for which this Lent and the others we have wasted might have atoned. Perhaps years of suffering will await us there instead of the few days of penance which we have refused in this life. {55} And, even if we have spent this time well, we shall then see clearly how we might have spent it better; and every good work which we could properly have done, which we had the grace and opportunity for, and yet did not do, will give us more sorrow than its omission gave relief.

But let us hope better things. There is no reason why this Lent should not be for us all that God meant it to be. That it may be so, the first thing to do, and the most agreeable of all, is to get into the grace and friendship of God, if we are now in sin; and then we have only to go on and do what we can, not in a grudging or weary spirit, but cheerfully and with our whole heart, to please our good God, who loves us each as much as if we were His only creature, and has done infinitely more for us already than we can ever do for Him. His Blessed Mother and the saints, especially St. Joseph, under whose patronage the greater part of Lent almost always comes, will help us, and we shall have joy enough in our souls to fully make up for all that is unpleasant or tiresome. And all the while we shall, by penance, be shortening the road that lies between us and our true home in heaven, where our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, the Blessed Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, is waiting to have us come and be happy with Him for all eternity.

-----------------------

{56}

Sermon IV.

Pretended And Real Christians.

(At Special Lenten Service.)

2 Cor. vi. 1.

"__And we do exhort you
that you receive not the grace of God in vain__."

What is the reason, my dear brethren, that you are all here to-night? I know very well what it is. There are very few who have not one and the same reason. You came because you wish, when you are removed out of this world, to reach the kingdom of heaven. You came because you would secure yourselves from the punishments denounced by God against the sinner. You came here to-night because you feel a strong interest in the salvation of your souls. It is the grace of God which stirs within your hearts and impels you to come. Now you are here, I say to you, with St. Paul, "Let not this grace of God be in vain." It is not enough to come within the church-walls and hear the voice of the preacher, unless you arc also willing and anxious to follow out his instructions.

{57}

I want to tell you what it is to be rightly and truly called a Christian, and to have a well-grounded hope of salvation. A vast number of absurd notions are afloat in the minds of many as to what it is to be a Christian. Where they came from, I cannot tell. It is not from the Church, for she never has taught them, and never can teach them. It is not from good sense and right reason, for they teach exactly the contrary. It must be from the devil, for he is said, in Scripture, to be a liar and the father of lies, and these lies are the very ones which are the most destructive of the soul. One of these lying notions is that outward communion with the Church of God renders a man a true Christian, and makes him sure of his salvation. The Pharisees had this idea. "Are we not children of Abraham?" they said. But what did St. John the Baptist say? "Say not to yourselves, We have Abraham for our father; for I say unto you that God is able of these stones to raise up children unto Abraham. Bring forth, therefore, fruit worthy of penance." [Footnote 8]

[Footnote 8: St. Matthew iii. 9.]

{58}

And our Saviour said unto them, "If you be the children of Abraham, do the works of Abraham." If there are any Catholics foolish enough to build their hopes of salvation on the mere fact of being Catholics, without having the spirit and the works of the Catholic religion, let them consider the fearful denunciation of our Lord against them. Take the parable of the wheat and the tares. The kingdom of heaven is like to a man who sowed wheat in his field, and by-and-by, when it came up, a quantity of weeds, or tares, came up with it. The servants asked their lord, "Shall we not go out and pull up the tares?" "No," he replied; "lest, pulling out the tares, ye pull out the wheat with them. Suffer them to grow together until the harvest, and then the wheat shall be gathered into my barn, and the tares shall be bound up into bundles to be burned in the fire." The question is not--Am I growing in the field of the Church? but--Am I the wheat? or the tares, fit only for the burning? Our Lord never seems to grow tired of denouncing this doctrine. Listen to His description of the last judgment: "And when the master of the house shall be gone in, and shall shut the door, you shall begin to stand without, and knock at the door, saying: Lord, open to us; and he answering, shall say to you: I know not whence you are. Then you shall begin to say: We have eaten and drunk in thy presence, and thou hast taught in our streets. And he shall say to you: I know not whence you are; depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity." [Footnote 9]

[Footnote 9: St. Luke xiii. 25-27.]

{59}

You see, then, the plea of being familiar in the house of God, of eating and drinking in His presence, is of no avail. Others, who are not in the outward Church of God, though in it in heart and soul, may enter the kingdom of God, but all the wicked in the Church shall be thrust out.

"There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. When you shall see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, and you shall be cast out. And they shall come from the east and from the west, and from the north and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom of God." It is no doubt of immense and incalculable benefit to be within the pale of the Church, and within reach of the Sacraments, but if you presume on this alone, instead of getting any benefit, you will only make them the occasion of your damnation. You have received this great grace, but remember that you are thereby rendered responsible for the right use of it. "Brethren, beware lest you receive this grace of God in vain."

Now, there is another false idea of what it is to be a Christian, and I am convinced that this prevails much more extensively, for, after all, few are foolish enough to build their hopes of salvation exclusively in the mere fact of being outward members of the Church of God.

{60}

This idea is, that, if a man belongs to the Church and does some good and religious acts, he can indulge himself to some extent in mortal sin, and still be a Christian and expect heaven. I know very well there are many sinners who know better. When they sin, they are aware of what they are about: they know well that they lose heaven, and that they renounce all pretensions to be true Christians, and this salutary knowledge drives them back to repentance and their duty; but are there not some who persuade, or half persuade, themselves to the contrary? They drink in sin like water, and make themselves out to be pretty good Christians notwithstanding. Do they not go to Mass? Do they not appear occasionally in the tribunal of penance? Do they not cry, Lord, Lord, and beat their breasts, and call to mind that there is such a being as God, and that they must do something now and then to please Him, or else He will get angry with them? And then they go off and sin as hard as they can, until they come to Mass again, and beat their breasts once more, and cry out, Lord, Lord, again.

The Chinese do very much the same thing. They set up a huge, ugly idol in their temples, and now and then go and prostrate themselves before it, and burn incense, and make some offering. This is the sum and substance of religion with them, and I fear it is the idea some Catholics, in their ignorance of their holy religion and through their evil disposition, have formed to themselves, too. {61} Sin all the week, and try to appease the anger of the Almighty on the Sunday by some false and hypocritical acts of worship! Why, they must think God to be something like the idols of the heathen, instead of being, as He is, the God of in finite power, and wisdom, and goodness.

What is the story of such people in the confessional? Sin, mortal sin, is a matter of course with them. Have they undertaken to deny themselves anything they had a strong desire for, in order not to commit mortal sin? No indeed! They think it quite excuse enough that they were tempted. "I could not help it, I was tempted." "Are you determined not to commit this sin again?" "I do not know; I will not unless I am tempted." The power of God is held very cheap by such people. They stand ready to sell it for little or nothing at any time: for a filthy gratification, for a drunken debauch, for a dollar or two. Judas sold our Lord for thirty pieces of silver. They would sell Him for two or three. Such a person comes to confession after an interval of a year or so. What is his story? Guilty of frequent absence from Holy Mass without any excuse--guilty of repeated drunkenness--guilty of cursing, swearing, and indecent language--guilty of unchaste conduct. Such has been his life for many years past; and such, it is to be feared, will be his life until death closes it. {62} His purposes of amendment are only on his lips, and not in his heart. They are made, not to be fulfilled, but to be broken. And yet such men persuade themselves that this kind of religion is acceptable to God, and that it is going to bring them to heaven.

Of what value are your prayers it you lead such a life? The prophet Isaias tells you: "Offer sacrifice no more in vain: incense is an abomination to me. The new moons, and the Sabbaths, and the other festivals, I will not abide; your assemblies are wicked. My soul hateth your new moons, and your solemnities; they are become troublesome to me: I am weary of bearing them. And when you stretch forth your hands, I will turn away my eyes from you; and when you multiply prayer, I will not hear; for your hands are full of blood. Wash yourselves, be clean, take away the evil of your devices from my eyes; cease to do perversely, learn to do well." [Footnote 10]

[Footnote 10: Isaias i. 13-17.]

Now, I have placed before your eyes the picture of a false and hypocritical religion, on the one hand; I will hold up before you, on the other, the idea of a real, true, genuine Christianity, which will certainly lead the soul to heaven--the idea of our Lord Himself in the holy Gospels. {63} He invariably represents the true Christian as one thoroughly converted from the evil of his ways. He compares him to a tree-- "A good tree," He says, "cannot bring forth bad fruit; neither can a bad tree bring forth good fruit." Why not? Because there is good sap in the good tree, which goes alike into all the fruit of the tree, and makes it all of a good quality, whilst the harsh and sour sap of the bad tree affects all its fruit, and makes it all bad.

A real Christian has a thoroughly good disposition. He fears God, and keeps His commandments. This principle of his affects all his actions. The whole tenor and course of his life is good. He no longer brings forth evil actions. He may have been bad once, but he has turned once for all and finally from the evil of his ways, and has become good. Once he had a bad disposition; he committed sin, and gratified his unlawful passions, in spite of God and His commandments, and his fruit or actions were corrupted by his bad dispositions. They were all worthless for eternal life. But he turned to God with his whole heart; he was grafted into Christ, and it is the sap and nourishment of Christ that flows through his soul, rendering him a new man, and his actions meritorious of an everlasting reward. To be a Christian is represented also under this very figure. {64} St. Paul says: "But you have not so learned Christ, but you have been taught in Him to put off, according to the former conversation, the old man, who is corrupted according to the desire of error. And be renewed in the spirit of your mind: and put on the new man, who, according to God, is created in justice, and holiness of truth." [Footnote 11]

[Footnote 11: Eph. iv. 20-24.]

And then we have a beautiful summary of the practical uprightness and candor of the thus newly-created man, and of the excellent fruit of virtue which should proceed from him: "Wherefore putting away lying, speak ye the truth every one to his neighbor, for we are members one of another. Be angry, and sin not; let not the sun go down upon your anger. Give not place to the devil. Let him that stole, steal no more; but rather let him labor, working with his hands that which is good. Let no evil speech proceed from your mouth. ... Let all bitterness and anger, and indignation and clamor, and blasphemy be put away from you. ... And be ye kind and merciful and forgiving, even as God has forgiven you in Christ." [Footnote 12]

[Footnote 12: __Ibid__. iv. 25-32.]

These are, indeed, golden words, which deserve to be read over time and again, and pondered in our hearts, and embodied, every one of them, in fervent prayers and ardent desires, arising like incense out of our hearts to God, that we may have the grace to realize in ourselves the pattern of the true Christian which they present to us.

{65}

Let us listen once more to the holy apostle, threatening us if we fail to conform to this measure and standard of the Christian life: "The night is past, and the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light. Let us walk honestly as in the day; not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in contention and envy; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences." [Footnote 13]

[Footnote 13: Rom. xiii. 12-14.]

Again: "Know ye not that the unjust shall not possess the kingdom of God? Be not deceived. Neither fornicators, nor adulterers, nor the effeminate, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor railers, nor extortioners, shall possess the kingdom of God; and such some of you were, but you are washed, but you are sanctified, but you are justified in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the Spirit of our God." [Footnote 14]

[Footnote 14: I Cor, vi. 9-11.]

You see that unless one puts away all these things he has no right to the hopes of a Christian. A Christian is a follower of Christ. Do we follow Christ when we go to places of drunkenness and debauchery? Do we follow Christ when we refuse to forgive our enemies? Do we follow Christ when we are covetous and hard hearted?

{66}

Look at the first Christians. They were Jews; but when they heard the news of the Gospel of Christ, they turned with their whole hearts to conform to it. They burned their bad books. They quit their evil ways. They confessed their sins. They were even willing to sell all their goods, and throw the proceeds into a common fund, because this religion appeared to them of more value than all the world besides. They were one in heart and soul. They were steadfast in prayer, and blameless in their lives. You might say of them, without hesitation, that they were of such as should be saved, and their names were written in the Book of Life.

Look at the martyrs. When it was a question of obeying God, they laid down their lives rather than disobey. They did not commit mortal sin, and say, "Oh! it is nothing. I will just swing the censer to that image, or offer that sacrifice, for the fire is too hot, or the sword is too keen, but I will still remain a Christian in my heart." No, indeed! They were not Christians of this sort; but they suffered by the fire, and by the sword, and from the wild beasts, and all kinds of cruel deaths, and thus manfully they earned the kingdom of heaven. These were Christians; and they teach us what that sacred name of Christian means. {67} What kind of Christians are we? Let each one ask himself this question: Do I come up to the standard? Am I worthy of the name? Have I any real, well-grounded hope of salvation? Am I, this moment, in a state of salvation or of damnation? Have I the principle, the fixed, well-grounded principle, which ought to govern all the actions of a Christian? Have I considered this matter, and looked it steadily in the face?

These are important questions, and now is the time to answer them. If you have been Christian in name heretofore, but heathen in life, do not let this Lent go by without a thorough change. Arise out of this miserable state, and put on the Lord Jesus Christ. Devote the whole of this Lent to this purpose. Say--I have a most important business to transact, and it must be done at once, before the Lent is over. Turn away from all sin with horror, and to God with your whole heart. Drop all foolish amusement. Drop all sinful company. Drop all excess in eating and drinking. Drop, as far as possible, all anxiety about business, or any worldly affairs, and give your attention to your poor soul. Think, oh! think of eternity, of death, of judgment, of the punishments denounced upon sinners. Do not let the thoughts of these things leave your minds. Force yourselves to think upon them--it is all-important to you. And pray: cry to God for mercy. {68} The promise is sure: "Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Make such a use of this season of penance as God and the Church wish you to, and you will find it the best, the most profitable, the most joyful of your whole life.

You will exclaim--I was poor, wretched, blind, now I see, now I am rich in grace, now I am indeed happy, for God has spoken the word of peace to my soul. Never, never more will I be so ungrateful as to offend Him again.

-------------------
{69}

Sermon V.

The Sins And Miseries Of The Dram-seller.

Habacuc II. 15.

__"Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend,
and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk."__

I once made a journey to a strange country; and so utterly at variance did all the social customs and personal lives of its inhabitants seem to be with the ordinary habits of people of this world, that I thought for a moment I must have stumbled upon beings who had been transplanted from some other planet.

Among other remarkable features in their character, I noticed that, instead of being as ambitious of obtaining a high reputation amongst their neighbors as men generally are, the inhabitants of that country were striving, as it appeared to me, during every leisure hour they could spare from their daily labor, to lower themselves in the estimation of others and become degraded. Instead of riches, they sought poverty; instead of learning, ignorance; instead of health, disease; and a premature death rather than a long life.

{70}

The means to which they resorted to bring this about seemed equally strange. By a sort of general consent, a certain number of them were chosen to absorb all the respectability, property, and comfort of the rest. These individuals distributed themselves about in different quarters of the towns, and you could easily have recognized their habitations from the rest for being the finer buildings, which increased in size as the surrounding dwellings of their neighbors became the more squalid, desolate, and uninhabitable. They, with their wives and children, also added the more to their comfort and luxury as the families about them became the nakeder and the hungrier. So far was all this carried, that, I observed, not a few, after having given up all their own, would often go and steal from others, and carry not only money, but even articles of furniture and clothing, to these men, who seemed also to be very popular persons and great favorites, if I might judge of the number of their clients and the pleasure apparently derived from long visits to them, to the loss of the company of their friends and families, and of their natural rest after wearisome days of toil.

I wondered greatly at all this, and asked my guide to explain it to me. "Do you not see," said he, "that these rich and powerful persons are in possession of a wonderful elixir? {71} It is said to produce happiness for those who may obtain a little of it, and these people are so anxious to be happy that they eagerly give up all they have, and all they hope for in this world and the next, in order to get some of it." "I do not see," I said, "that it makes those who use it happy; on the contrary, they seem to me to be really bartering all their means of happiness away, and getting nothing but misery in exchange." "You need only look around you upon those comfortless homes and diseased men and women, and glance at their daily lives, to confirm the truth of your observation," he replied. "Then these poor, misguided souls are only grasping at shadows of happiness, and losing the reality in the meanwhile?" "You have spoken the truth," said he; "and you need not be surprised at it, for the country you are in is called the Land of the Shadow of Happiness." "I will tarry no longer here," said I, "for the sight sickens me. I will return quickly to my own country." "So you may," said my guide; "but the seller of the shadow of happiness lives and thrives with you also." "Does he?" I asked. "And what may he be called?"

{72}

"The Dram-seller."

I awoke from my reverie, and found myself standing, not in a strange land, but in the streets of my own city, before a fine brick building, ornamented with cut stone, proudly rearing its showy front, and looking down with contempt upon the humble homes of the poor that surrounded it; and glittering in the sunshine shone the gilded sign-board over its doors, "IMPORTED WINES AND LIQUORS."

Yes, the dram-seller lives and thrives with us, too--the vender of the shadow of happiness, and dealer in ignorance, disease, degradation, poverty, ruined reputations, strifes, jealousies, insanity, delirium tremens, and dishonored and early graves. The drunkards whom he makes are wretched enough, and commit, through their intemperance, the most grievous of crimes; but I know not if the sins and miseries of the dram-seller be not worse and far more hopeless of reparation than theirs. For in one it is often the result of weak and uneducated minds, unable to use God's gifts in moderation, or to bear up against the trials and temptations of this life; but the other must be a cold, heartless, calculating, money-worshipping soul, who can thus fatten himself upon the sinful appetites of others, and from year to year defraud his neighbor by the sale of his vile, adulterated trash, and take the hard-earned dollars of his customers in exchange for it without a blush.

{73}

The dram-seller and his traffic is a well-known and prominent rock of scandal in the community, whether it be the secret sale from one barrel of beer or liquor in the earth-floored shanty, or the flourishing business of a well-stocked and gilded saloon.

What are the sins of the dram-seller? He sins against justice and against charity.

He sins against justice. To all who have examined the matter, it is a well-established fact that in every case this business is necessarily connected with the sale of false, adulterated articles, and with an unreasonable, unrighteous, and usurious profit. And the only excuse any one connected with it has ever been able to offer is, that they are obliged, if they sell at all, to keep cheap liquors for poor people, or that, if the article is adulterated, it is none of their business, for they sell it, either just as they purchase it from large dealers, or, at the worst, only add a certain modicum of water, as they say __the raw spirit might do the poor people harm!__

But they know the fact as well as I know it, that scarcely one drop is dealt out by them that is not more or less adulterated; that their so-called wines never saw the juice of the grape; that their brandies, and rums, and cordials are all composed of proof spirit, coloring matter, drugs of the most poisonous character and deadly strength, and water. I am in possession of a document circulated privately among these manufacturers of "imported wines and liquors," which purports to give recipes for making any kind of wine, liquor, or cordial you can name, with the address of certain houses where the drugs I have alluded to may be obtained.

{74}

A friend was invited by a dram-seller to visit his vaults. Taking out the bung of a large hogshead, he drew up from the liquor by a cord a gauze bag of very small dimensions, and, with a peculiar wink of his eye, remarked, "You see, that's the way we manage it." "Oh! that's the way you manage it, is it?" the friend replied. "I am very glad to know it."

The cheap materials from which the drink ordinarily sold is manufactured, and the large adulteration with water made on their own premises by the retailers, enables them to make the most exorbitant, usurious profits. The popular wonder is, how so many can carry on the business and make money by it. That is the reason.

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. {75} 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. {76} 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. {77} 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. {78} 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. {79} 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.

{80}

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. {81} 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.

The boy, his eldest boy, that was to be sent to college, was sent up last week to prison for shoplifting; and the girl--where is she gone? Answer me, dram-shop, where is the girl gone? And now I have more to ask of you, O mouth of hell! Where is the house and lot gone to? {82} Where is the furniture gone to? Where now are the good husband, the happy father, the thrifty wife, the faithful mother, the innocent children, the food on the table, the fire on the hearth, the comfort and joy and good name and trust and neighborly confidence, and the good Christians, the pious Catholics, that used to be at Mass every Sunday morning in their places? Answer me. Do you not hear a righteous God, your judge, demanding in tones of wrath, "Dram-shop, where are my children? You--you have robbed me of my beautiful flock!" O cruel dram-seller! O dram-shop! scandal of our times, look upon the ruin you have wrought! See the black cloud which hangs over your dwelling. It is a threatening mass of darkness and woe, made up of heavy curses, of sighs from broken hearts, the gloom of grievous bitterness of spirit; and that cloud is pregnant with hidden lightnings and thunders of the wrath of God descending upon you. "Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend, and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk, that he may behold him stripped and naked. Thou art filled with shame instead of glory; drink thou also, and fall fast asleep; the cup of the right hand of the Lord shall compass thee, and shameful vomiting shall be on thy glory." [Footnote 15]

[Footnote 15: Habac. ii. 15, 16.]

{83}

Your sin is the sin of Ephraim, whom the prophet reproved. You make to yourself an idol of gain. "And Ephraim said, But yet I am become rich. I have found me an idol: all my labors shall not find me the iniquity that I have committed." [Footnote 16] To that idol you have sacrificed men, women, and children, and brought upon many a wretched soul temporal and eternal ruin--robbing heaven of saints, and filling up the caverns of hell.

[Footnote 16: Osec xii. 8.]
[USCCB: Hosea xii. 9.]

Hear what God answers to Ephraim: "I will meet them as a bear that is robbed of her whelps; I will rend the inner parts of their bodies, and I will devour them as a lion; the beast of the field shall tear them." [Footnote 17]

[Footnote 17: Osec xiii. 8.]
[USCCB: Hosea xiii. 8.]

Your very daily walks must be misery to you, one would suppose. For how can you put on those fine clothes, and see your children clad in warm coats and caps and shoes, and your wife parading that beautiful new silk dress and expensive jewelry, when you know that they were bought with money that ought to have been used to clothe a family that goes about our streets in destitution and nakedness so pitiable that it makes the heart ache? How can you sit down and ask God's blessing upon your plentifully supplied table, if you ever do it now, when the hand that gave you the money to purchase all these luxuries snatched the piece of bread from the mouths of his starving, hungry children? {84} How can you dare go to sleep in your soft, warm bed, listening to that cutting winter's blast as it goes howling past your windows down the street, and forces its way in the open crevices of the drunkard's shanty, freezing the half-clad forms of his neglected little ones, huddled in the corner upon a filthy wisp of straw? Have you a human heart yet left beating in your bosom? Do you know anything of a husband's affection or of a father's love? Oh! then you must be a miserable man. How do your neighbors speak of you? "Oh! he's a rum-seller." And the tone in which it is spoken is a plain index of the contempt they attach to the name. Your wife is designated as "a rum-seller's wife," and of your children it is remarked, "Their father sells liquor." And it is a common reply of many of the most degraded drunkards, that "although they have drunk pretty hard, they thank God __they__ never sold liquor."