This contains a transcription of chapter XXIV about temperance in Canaan from The History of Canaan, New Hampshire by William Allen Wallace, edited by James Burns Wallace, Concord, N.H.: The Rumford Press, 1910.
Chapter XXIV; Pages 430-434
The old orchards of Canaan were famous in their early maturity. The seeds were brought from Connecticut and Massachusetts. After building a house and clearing a spot of land, the next duty of the settler was to plant an orchard. The farms laid out by the newcomers, almost without exception, were not considered complete until the apple trees were started. The soil was moist and rich, and well adapted to the growth of fruit trees. They grew rapidly in the new soil, enriched by the ashes from the burned forests, and they bore fruit so abundantly that cider mills were erected at convenient places all over town. As the yield of apples increased, so the appetite for cider, and something stronger increased, and with this increasing appetite some of the bad traits of human nature were developed. The gatherings of the people were usually held at places where they could gratify their appetites, and there as the day progressed, the looker-on would observe the various phases which the use of cider and other drinks produced. Some men became hoggish and wallowed in their filth; some men became devilish and needed only hoofs and horns to be such in fact; some became idiotic and foolish and drooled in their silliness; others were a prey to ugliness, very few went home sober, or even knew when it was time to go home; some who had left strong-minded and muscular wives at home, preferred enjoying the evening air until the fumes of inebriety were evaporated. These things were not confined to the low or vicious, but it was a great social evil; it was a part of the hospitality of the house to offer cider, wine or rum to strangers as a beverage. There were drunkards among all classes of people. Many a man died of strong drink upon whose headstone may be read some cheering verse from the Bible.
There were a number of strong men who fell by the wayside in their encounter with apple-juice; there was Dea. C. W. and his sons, Esquire A. and all his sons; E. and J. W.; Doctor T., L. D., and L. W., and others, over whose remains might well have [page 431] been inscribed, “Woe to him that tarrieth long at the wine cup.” There came a time when the men who planted these great orchards, knew not what to do with the fruit. Some years, when their bins had been filled with apples for family use and their casks were all filled with cider, the quantity left ungathered was almost fabulous. Cattle, hogs and horses were turned loose to grow fat upon them. The year 1822 by those who remember it, has always been called the great apple year. Many hundred barrels of cider were made and many hundred bushels of apples rotted on the ground. Joshua Wells, before his death, used to recall that year and gave the cider product something as follows: Joseph Bartlett, 150 barrels; Dea. Caleb Welch, 30 barrels; John M. Barber, 100 barrels; Joshua Wells, 200; Capt. Moses Dole, 30; William Campbell, 50; Col. Daniel Pattee, 60; Josiah Barber, 60; Reynold Gates, 75; Abel Hadley, 25. Cider was everywhere. The difficulty being to find casks to hold it, it was free to all. Men drank it and became ugly, both in body and mind— red noses, bleared eyes, and bloated bellies were the sights that marked the devotees to these frequent libations, and there was no man brave enough to rise up and cry out: “Taste not, touch not.”
Years went by and the same unhealthy signs traversed our streets, sometimes upright, sometimes on hands and knees, and this tippling was not all confined to one sex. It was well known that wives, mothers and maidens had appetites and often indulged them. Many good men and women regretted the slavery which, like fiery serpents, was winding itself about souls and bodies; but the remedy for it was not apparent.
In the town lived a young lawyer named Kittredge. He had long scorned to follow anybody’s example. He preferred to be a leader, and if anybody in the country excelled him in his methods of getting drunk, he didn’t know it; and if anybody ever showed more contempt for the usages of society, the people were ignorant of it. Oftentimes he was a weary, heavy-laden man. Why should he not rest when and where he pleased! on the grass! in the ditch! by the roadside! And if he happened to reach his own home before he sank down to rest, why should he take off his muddy boots, his jammed hat, or bedraggled [page 432] clothes, as he crawled into bed and lost consciousness! He fell low down — very low! He lost practice, caste, character, and was looked upon as a pariah. But he was not entirely lost. By a supreme effort of his will, he crushed out the snakes and cast out the demons that possessed him, and became a man again. From his own severe experience, he believed he could benefit the world by speaking against the evils of drunkenness.
It was in the year 1829 that an attempt was made to organize an association to oppose the excessive use of alcohol. The meeting was held in Mr. Foster’s church. Mr. Kittredge delivered a thrilling address upon the evils of drunkenness, which was subsequently printed, and then there was a general discussion upon the merits of the question; whether it was right and proper for this community, where rum was as much a drink as cider or water, and about as cheap, to abstain from its use, when nine out of ten knew they could not do it. A pledge was laid before the meeting, but it was so worded that sickness and depression of spirits were to be an excuse for indulgence.
Good old Elder Wheat could not sign it, because through all his long life he had used rum and it had given him courage and strength to work. Mr. Trussell would not sign it, although he was not a hard drinker, because it restrained a man in his liberty to do as he pleased — freedom in all things was his motto. Bart Heath drank rum because he loved it; he know it was good for him. His wife drank it also; and it was good for her, too. Now he wasn’t going to throw away any good thing in this world, because it would be parting with his rights. Doctor Tilton would sign, with a mental reservation, that the pledges should be no bar to his present habits. Deacon Drake wouldn’t sign it, because he didn’t wish to submit himself to so powerful a temptation as an invitation to drink would subject him. George Kimball, the lawyer, was not a drinking man. He favored the pledge and his argument ran somewhat as follows: “Spirit is expensive and useless and, moreover, hurtful. Its cost we all know. Its uselessness is provable by the fact that it contains no nourishment, nothing that can give vigor or strength. It is good when a man is melted, in that condition, there might be propriety in drinking spirit; but until the natural state becomes [page 433] a state of fusion, I should object to the use of ardent spirits. Instead of giving strength, it only deceives men into a false estimate of their powers, like madness and poor human nature has to pay for it afterwards. It produces poverty, engenders sickness, is dangerous to the reputation, to the contentment and happiness in families, and is destructive to usefulness; to friendship, and is an enemy to the body and soul. I denounce all kinds of excitable spirits, except when a man is ready to perish. We may give wine to one of heavy heart, if it be pure. I denounce cider except in small lots and pure. I denounce the filthy or-chards that encumber the best part of farmers’ lands where he ought to raise corn and grain.” Mr. Kimball was not applauded for his murderous allusion to the orchards, nor did he get credit for the peculiar “exceptions” he allowed.
When a man is melted, as he called it, a man in those days would hardly take alcohol to cool his blood.
There was a strong objection to the pledge simply as such. Personal “rights” and “liberty” to do as they pleased, were powerful words, and kept their hands off that paper. My recollection is that it received no signatures at that meeting. The men went home to talk it over and the women also. They looked about them and saw three stores and two taverns on the Street where rum was sold over the counter by the glass. Several other taverns about town offered facilities for indulgence. Not a day passed but some one or more men staggered home from these resorts, either too drunk to be civil, or too stupid to reflect whether their appetites might be more dangerous to their liberties than the pledge which had been offered them. There was a man who had sold rum all his life and he used to boast that he had never tasted any of his own liquors and knew no difference between them; “rum, gin or brandy, were all the same to him.” He sold it! But he was not honest. He would tempt men on to drink, and then charge them with bills of goods which they never purchased, but which he would compel them to pay for, because having drank his rum, they had become oblivious to business obligations as well as to the decencies of life. These sad sights and scenes presented themselves daily to the world, and one by one a generation of drunkards went down to the grave, some of them [page 434] lingering along life’s road, like decaying pine stumps, rotten and ragged, waiting for the slow tread of time to crush out their strong vitality. But the words spoken at that first temperance meeting were like good seed scattered broadcast over the earth; and through all the years have yielded an annually increasing harvest down to this day. Wisdom, folly, philanthropy and fanaticism, since that day have taken a hand in the crusade against rum. Something has been gained, but the worm of the still is undying, crushed out today; tomorrow it shows its leprous features in another place. The combined and concentrated wisdom of all our lawmakers, and of all the political philanthropists for the suppression of the sale of liquors from that day to this, has resulted in the conviction that men will have it.
In the year 1855 it was thought better to deal it out through an “agent,” so that the profits therefrom might be a part of the public income. John M. Barber was the first town agent, and the rules controlling the distribution and sale were as follows: “You shall purchase and sell only such liquors as are pure and unadulterated. All liquors costing less than one dollar a gallon, your profit shall be 25 per cent., all over that amount 15 per cent. Purchase as you need and not have an unnecessary quantity on hand.” The year 1880 was also a famous cider and apple year. There were eight cider mills in town. Harris J. Goss’ mill made 413 barrels; E. C. Flanders made 42 barrels at his mill; Lary’s mill made 346 barrels and Mr. Lary gathered 715 bushels of apples from his own orchard. Charles H. Wells’ mill made 339; John Currier made 42 barrels at this mill, and Enoch Fifield and Charles Day divided 48 barrels between them. At Gates’ mill 361 barrels were made; Daniel Hinkson made 41 at this mill. William Hall’s mill turned out 410 barrels. George L. Whittier made 65 barrels there. Henry H. Wilson’s mill turned out 419 barrels, Philip Prescott’s 351, and William Huggett’s 329 barrels. That year the barrels were worth twice as much as the cider. The cider sold at $1.25 per thirty-two gallons. Probably the apple crop that year was not far from 41,000 bushels.