THE HOME CIRCLE | AdventAI

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Jun 27, 1878

THE HOME CIRCLE.

The Serpent in the Home.

In looking over a newspaper lately I saw a paragraph telling how a party of sixteen travelers in Russia were overtaken by the darkness; how, when some miles from the town to which they were bound, they heard that terrible sound which makes the blood of the bravest run cold, the baying of wolves; how in horror and affright they struck spurs into the sides of their panting steeds; how the hideous pursuers gained on them; how one after another fell a sacrifice; and how out of that gallant party of sixteen only one arrived at his destination. What a narrative, how ghastly, how thrilling! As I thought of the moments of concentrated suspense and horror experienced by these travelers, of the tragic termination, and of the grief and desolation of those with whom they were connected, my heart sank within me at the ravages of these merciless monsters. But though we are not living in the wilds of Russia, I shudder to think that we are exposed to a far more destructive enemy than the hungry wolf, but one who would not only attack its victim openly, but also approaches with stealthy, treacherous step and springs on them ere ever they are aware. And how many gay travelers in life's journey this enemy overcomes! Some years ago, in a small suburb of one of our most prosperous cities, one physician alone counted, among the circle of his own patients, thirteen ladies whose disease was drink. How many of that company of thirteen escaped the fangs of the destroyer I do not know, but I will give the history of one who came under my observation.

When first Miss Martin came to our town she was a bright attractive girl. Her elder sister had married one of the doctors of the place, and she came on a visit to her, and as was right and fitting, her friends and she enjoyed themselves visiting places of interest. One day after viewing the sights of a neighboring city, and when waiting the time for a train to take them home, they stepped into one of those fashionable restaurants, with which our city abound, to rest and have a refreshment. As it was a hot day the sandwich was followed, at Dr. Black's suggestion, by a glass of wine. Chemists tell us of the affinity of certain substances. Dr. and Mrs. Black drank their glass of wine, and, as the saying is, felt neither up nor down after it. With Miss Martin it was different. She had never in all her life drank a whole glass of wine before, and something, I know not what or how, in her constitution answered to its suttle qualities, and she felt its exhilarating effects. A pleasing indescribable sensation came over her. Before she was worn out, and exhausted; now she felt light, vigorous and happy. And it is to constitutions of this kind that stimulants are an unspeakable temptation. Favoring circumstances, I grieve to say, were not wanting. Mrs. Black's callers were numerous, and wine and cake were regularly presented. They were asked to dinner and supper parties to get acquainted with the neighborhood, and at most of these also wine was abundant, and just because other people took it Miss Martin did so too. She thought the place delightful and the people exceedingly pleasant, and if in a forenoon she felt exhausted and nervous after a party, a glass of wine put her all right. No wonder that when she returned home, life seemed dull, flat and heavy. Of old she used to awake in the morning with a bright, cheery feeling, and begin to lay out her plan of work for the day. But things of an ordinary kind had no interest for her now. She became restless, her appetite failed, and she grew pale and thin. Her mother, anxious and alarmed, called in the doctor, whose verdict was, "A little out of sorts—trying season of the year—liver dull—a little stimulant set all to rights." Her father, good, confiding man, at once ordered in a dozen of port, which was to be administered to the patient twice a day. And so the spark was fanned and cherished which in due time was to become the raging conflagration in which health, comfort, the approval of conscience, the smile of friends, character, and life itself were to be engulfed. I have said Miss Martin was a very prepossessing girl, and, as was natural, she was admired by many; so in a little while, when on a second visit to her sister, no one was surprised when it was announced that she was to be married to one who stood high in the opinion of all, and was indeed a young man of great worth and excellence. It happened that winter that a young men's mutual improvement society was organized in our town, and a scientific association, and a total abstinence society. Now into the first two of these, Dr. Black and Mr. Bennet, his intended brother-in-law, entered readily, and were quite willing to attend meetings, and give readings and deliver lectures; but for the last: "Well really," they said, "it did seem a kind of insult to introduce the like of that among respectable people. No doubt there were many who should not drink, because they could not stop in time, and in such cases drink was a great curse; but with the like of them it was different." And when Mr. Bennet saw Miss Martin sipping her glass of wine, he thought, as of everything else about her, how graceful it seemed, and how well the action became her. It was but a few months after that the poor illusion was dispelled.

Some gentlemen friends of Mr. Bennet's from a distance had come to spend the day with them, and a few neighbors had been asked to meet them at dinner. Mrs. Bennet had, like other young housekeepers, made great exertions for the entertainment of her guests. Who does not sympathize with her wish to do the honors of her house in a way worthy of the husband so devoted to her, and of whom she was so proud? Well all went off beautifully, and she had left her guests in the dining-room over their wine; but when seated by herself, with the excitement run down, a feeling of excessive fatigue and languor came over her. As on other occasions she at once thought of a glass of wine. This was just the very time it was needed, and so without further consideration, she drank one and another, and so on, till before she knew it, she was sleeping the sleep of a drunkard in her own elegant drawing-room. By-and-by the door was thrown open, and Mr. Bennet, in his usual cheery voice, said, "Here we are, Mary, all ready for your nice cup of coffee." But, alas! there was no answering greeting, nothing but an inarticulate sound from the prostrate figure on the rug. The company took in the situation but too well, and all retired as gracefully as possible, sorry to see Mrs. Bennet so poorly, etc. Mr. Bennet was bewildered. Of all the possibilities in life this was the last that could have occurred to him, and there he sat with that terrible, mysterious smile which you may have seen on the face of the strong man when shame and agony were gnawing at his heart.

It would be tedious to record Mrs. Bennet's resolutions of amendment made and broken, to be again renewed and with the same result; or her husband's patience, so often abused, and still so ready to forgive. But the most long-suffering patience may be worn out at last, and it seemed to Mr. Bennet that the only chance was to send his wife—once his pride as well as joy—to one of those asylums for the drunkard called refugees. The arrangements were made, and the day she was to go fixed. I shall never forget that afternoon. The poor husband was utterly prostrated with grief and shame by an outbreak of his wife the day before, and as an old friend he requested me to accompany her, for he could not trust himself, and feared his resolutions would give way at the parting scene. She, poor creature, not only acquiesced in the plan, but earnestly besought her husband on her knees to help her to get free from the wretched slavery in which she lived. It is easy for people outside to speak, but I do think drunkards are often deeply to be pitied as well as much to be blamed. She had been for some months in this establishment when her husband, hoping against hope, removed to the city of which I have spoken, with the view of giving her the benefit of new scenes and new surroundings in her future life, and brought her home. How he congratulated himself, how his love and long-slumbering reverence revived, as day after day and week after week passed and still she stood the trial!

Some time after this I was invited to the marriage of their only daughter. She was one of whom any mother might have been proud, and on whom her father doted. I had been greatly gratified at hearing of my friend's continued reformation, and when I arrived that summer evening and found the three sitting together on the lawn under a spreading tree, enjoying the sweetest hour of all the day, I thought the outward scene a fitting symbol of the inward peace, and caught myself whispering, "At evening time it shall be light." Looking back on the past it seemed as if we had awoke from a frightful nightmare, and were being reassured by the calm and peace of returning morning.

Next day, as the wedding guests were strolling through the grounds after the marriage till lunch was announced, and everything seemed the embodiment of calmness and comfort, he would have been thought a hard-hearted prophet of evil who would have predicted the events of the following hours. I stepped aside and went into the house to see if I could give any assistance in the finishing of the arrangements. On looking into the dining-room what was my amazement to find the table furnished with a profusion of wines and even brandies! Thinking there must have been some strange mistake I hurried out and sought Mr. Bennet, to whom I told what I had seen, saying that his orders must surely have been misunderstood. He looked wonderingly at me. "Not at all," said he; "you do suppose I could let such an occasion as this pass without giving it all the honors." "Honors!" I thought some people had strange ideas about honors. I implored him to alter his arrangements even yet. "Thanks," said he, "for your kind interest; but pray don't trouble yourself, you will see all will go off well." And then in a lower tone, "Mary has promised me." With a sorrowful heart I turned away. The party had not been long in the dining-room when I saw Mrs. Bennet, who had hitherto been acting the part of hostess with all the ease and grace which in her early days had charmed so many, become suddenly pale and seemed to put a strong restraint upon herself. I felt deeply grieved when I saw those around her carelessly sipping their wine, ignorant of the fierce war they were kindling within her. At last she could stand it no longer, and it seemed as if a thunderbolt had fallen amongst us when suddenly she rose and seizing a bottle darted to the door. Mr. Bennet's face turned ashy pale, and when he attempted to rise his knees smote against each other, like the monarch of old when the handwriting on the wall announced his doom. When I got outside the door the poor woman looked round on me with a half-triumphant, half-scared expression, and the brandy bottle, as it turned out to be, was lying empty beside her. I helped her to the bed and the doctor was sent for, but no human power could save her, and as we watched her tossing to and fro, and wildly appealing for protection from the fiery serpents which she averred were swarming around her, I wondered if her husband did not ask himself if he had fulfilled that vow made long ago of loving, cherishing and protecting her when he exposed her to what was indeed supremest danger possible, the smell of what, to her, was deadly poison. At length the storm subsided, and wan and worn she lay on her pillow. Leaning over her, I heard in a low whisper the words, "They shall thirst no more." The pathos was inexpressible. These were her last words. No doubt there is pardon for the penitent drunkard as well as the penitent thief, even at the eleventh hour; but turning away from that death-bed I could not but say, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

I have spoken of some of the outward incidents of Mrs. Bennet's history, but who shall imagine her inner life? Sure I am that the most exquisite tortures ever invented by cruel Turks fell very far short of those she inflicted on herself and her dearest friends. When bidding good-bye to the silent and mournful mansion, where all had but the other day seemed so bright and happy, I felt with new power and emphasis the force of the wise man's words, "Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his color in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder."—Scottish Temperance League.