Chapter XI: Hanoverian Period (1)

A change of dynasty brought with it no amelioration of manners. The fatal permission to set up distilleries, which was granted after the Revolution of 1688, and which was not withdrawn by William, was encouraged by the Legislature in the reign of the first George. The consequence was natural: distilleries multiplied, and drink was sold so cheap that unrestrained indulgence prevailed. The condition of things has been ably recorded by Mr. Lecky.[206] It was not till about 1724 that the passion for gin-drinking infected the masses of the population, and spread with the violence of an epidemic.

Small as is the place which this fact occupies in English
history, it was probably, if we consider all the consequences
that have flowed from it, the most momentous in that of the
eighteenth century--incomparably more so than any event in the
purely political or military annals of the country. The average
of British spirits distilled, which is said to have been only
527,000 gallons in 1684, had risen in 1727 to 3,601,000. Physicians
declared that in excessive gin-drinking a new and terrible source
of mortality had been opened for the poor. The grand jury of
Middlesex declared that much the greater part of the poverty, the
murders, the robberies of London, might be traced to this single
cause. Retailers of gin were accustomed to hang out painted boards
announcing that their customers could be made drunk for a penny,
dead drunk for twopence, and have straw for nothing; and cellars
strewn with straw were accordingly provided, into which those who
had become insensible were dragged, and where they remained till
they had sufficiently recovered to renew their orgies.

What preventive measures had soon to be taken, we shall learn later on. But the home distilleries were not the only bane. In consequence of the heavy duty to which foreign spirits were subjected, the smuggling trade began to be brisk. Rum, brandy, and hollands were brought over from the Channel Islands in small barrels, and were either landed at once or sunk in rafts to be taken up when convenient. The smuggling trade threw into the country immense quantities of spirits. Indeed ale and beer were almost superseded by spirits and water, or ‘grog,’ as it then began to be called.

The origin of the term ‘grog’ may interest, and is as follows:--The British sailors had always been accustomed to drink their allowance of brandy or rum clear, till Admiral Vernon ordered those under his command to mix it with water. The innovation gave offence to the sailors, and for a time rendered the commander unpopular. The admiral at that time wore a grogram coat, for which reason they nicknamed him ‘Old Grog’--hence by degrees the mixed liquor that he ordered obtained universally the name of ‘grog.’

The brewing of _porter_ began about the year 1722. It is a drink which chiefly differs from beer by being made with higher dried malt. It was then the common practice in taverns to call for a pot of _half-and-half_, meaning half ale and half twopenny, or sometimes an equal portion of ale, beer, and twopenny, which was called _three threads_. To avoid the trouble of drawing these liquors from their respective casks, a person named Harwood formed the plan of brewing a drink that would at once yield the flavour of these combined ingredients. He effected his object, calling the beverage ‘entire,’ or _entire butt_, because it was taken from one butt or vessel. And inasmuch as it was purchased by porters and such like persons, it became ever afterwards distinguished by the name of _porter_.

The drink called _saloop_ came into vogue at this time. Reide’s coffee-house, in Fleet Street, was one of the first houses in which it was sold. Called also _salep_, and _salop_; it was a greasy-looking beverage, sold much on stalls in the early morning. It was prepared from a powder made of the root of the _Orchis mascula_, and from the green-winged meadow orchis. Salep was long imported from the Levant, till it was discovered that our native plants could supply it, specially the early purple orchis. It used, like porter, to be a favourite drink of porters, coal-heavers, &c. It is said to contain more nutritious matter in proportion to its bulk than any other known root: an ounce of salep was thought to be support for a man for a day. It is still much used in the East. In Hindoostanee it is called _salab-ee-misree_, in Persian _sahleb_. In the present century it has been superseded by coffee-barrows; but Charles Lamb has left some account of this drinkable, which he says was of all preparations the most grateful to the stomachs of young chimney-sweeps.[207]

Ales commonly became known by the name of the _district_ that produced them--e.g. _Dorset_ beer, _Oxford_ ale. Thus, John Byrom writes:--

_May 18, 1725._--I found the effect of last night’s drinking that
foolish _Dorset_, which was pleasant enough, but did not at all
agree with me, for it made me very stupid all day.[208]

_Oxford Ale_ was the subject of a panegyric written by Warton in 1720--and a panegyric from such a man would be, in the opinion of many, a boon of immortality.

The drinking at this time has already been spoken of as an epidemic. Wine was necessary on all occasions. The _marriage_ ceremony was incomplete without it, as is abundantly evident from contemporary verse. More than one ridiculed the notion so prevalent, that

Wine must seal the marriage-bands.

But the Church had long since sanctioned a belief in its spell. The Sarum Missal had taught that the bridal cup must be blessed by the priest:--

Post missam, panis et vinum, vel aliud bonum potabile, in vasculo
proferatur.

And so the hallowing of wine and sops was usual from the court to the cottage.

_Burials_ were imperfect without the cup. M. Misson, in his _Observations_, notes:--

Butler, the keeper of the Crown and Sceptre Tavern in St. Martin’s
Lane, told me that there was a tun of red port drunk at his wife’s
burial, besides mulled white wine.--No men ever go to women’s
burials, nor women to men’s, so that there were none but women at
the drinking of Butler’s wine. Such women in England will hold it
out with the men, when they have a bottle before them, as well as
upon the other occasion, and battle infinitely better than they.

The number of _public-houses_ was excessive. In 1725 a report from a committee of Middlesex magistrates stated that at that period there were in the metropolis, exclusive of the City of London and Southwark, 6,187 houses and shops wherein ‘geneva, or other strong waters,’ were sold by retail. The population was then about 700,000. In some cases every seventh house was employed in the sale of intoxicants.

We get a life-like picture of the times from Daniel Defoe; and if it be objected that his writing is fiction, we reply with Thackeray that the fiction carries a greater amount of truth in solution than the volume which purports to be all true. On the subject of drink amongst _women_, and drink as a medicine, what can be more touching than the following from his _Life of Colonel Jack_?--

The hero, Colonel Jack, is giving an account of his third wife:--

I was infinitely satisfied with my wife, who was, indeed, the
best-humoured woman in the world, and a most accomplished
beautiful creature--indeed, perfectly well bred, and had not
one ill quality about her; and this happiness continued without
the least interruption for about six years. But I at last had a
disappointment of the worst sort even here. She caught cold, and
grew very sickly. In being so continually ill and out of order, she
very unhappily got a habit of drinking cordials and hot liquors.

Drink, like the devil, when it gets hold of any one, though but
a little, goes on by little and little to their destruction; so
in my wife, her stomach being weak and faint, she first took this
cordial, then that--till, in short, she could not live without
them; and from a drop to a sup, from a sup to a dram, from a dram
to a glass, and so on to two, till at last she took, in short, to
what we call drinking.

As I likened drink to the devil in its gradual possession of
the habits and person, so it is yet more like the devil in its
encroachment on us, where it gets hold of our senses. In short, my
beautiful, good-humoured, modest, well-bred wife, grew a beast, a
slave to strong liquor, and would be drunk at her own table, nay,
in her own closet by herself, till she lost her beauty, her shape,
her manners, and at last her virtue.

Oh! the power of intemperance! And how it encroaches on the best
disposition in the world; how it comes upon us gradually and
insensibly, and what dismal effects it works upon our morals,
changing the most virtuous, regular, well-instructed, and
well-inclined tempers into worse than brutal! Never was a woman
more virtuous, sober, modest, and chaste, than my wife. She never
so much as desired to drink anything strong. It was with the
greatest entreaty that I could prevail with her to drink a glass or
two of wine, and rarely, if ever, above one or two at a time; even
in company she had no inclination to it. Not an immodest word ever
came out of her mouth, nor would she suffer it in any one else in
her hearing without resentment.

But during her illness and weakness, her nurse pressed her,
whenever she found herself faint, and a sinking of her spirits, to
take this cordial, and that dram, till it became necessary to keep
her alive, and gradually increased to a habit, so that it was no
longer her physic but her food. Her appetite sunk and went quite
away, and she ate little or nothing, but she came at last to a
dreadful height, that, as I have said, she would be drunk in her
dressing-room before eleven o’clock in the morning, and, in short,
at last was never sober.

Let any one judge of my case now; I, that for six years thought
myself the happiest man alive, was now the most miserable
distracted creature. As to my wife, I loved her well and pitied her
heartily. I almost locked her up, and set people over her to take
care of her; but her health was ruined, and in about a year and a
half she died.

Rightly did the poet Gay in his _Court of Death_ make Death give the palm to _intemperance_ amongst the claimant diseases:--

Merit was ever modest known.
What, no physician speak his right!
None here! but fees their toil requite.
Let then Intemperance take the wand,
Who fills with gold their zealous hand:
You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest--
Whom wary men as foes detest--
Forego your claims. No more pretend;
Intemperance is esteemed a friend;
He shares their mirth, their social joys,
And as a courted guest destroys.
The charge on him must justly fall,
Who finds employment for you all.

Amongst the many who shortened their days through excess, must be mentioned the name of Thomas Parnell. Dr. Johnson, in his _Lives of the Poets_, observes:--

Pope represents him as falling into intemperance of wine after
Queen Anne’s death, in consequence of disappointed ambition. That
in his later life he was too much of a lover of the bottle is not
denied; but I have heard it imputed to a cause more likely to
obtain forgiveness from mankind, the untimely death of a darling
son; or, as others tell, the loss of his wife, who died 1712.

The latter is probably the true solution. He had married a woman of great beauty, Miss Anne Minchin, who died soon after that event, and grief probably preyed upon his fitful spirits, and led him into intemperance. He died before he was forty. Well for him had he imitated the character drawn in his exquisite poem _The Hermit_:--

The great vain man who fared on costly food,
Whose life was too luxurious to be good;
Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine,
And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine;
Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost,
And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.

The most advanced exponent of the conviviality of the time was William Congreve, at one time commissioner of wine licences. His comedies are steeped in vice. Congreve’s comic feast (says Thackeray) flares with lights, and round the table, emptying their flaming bowls of drink, and exchanging the wildest jests and ribaldry, sit men and women, waited on by rascally valets and attendants--perhaps the very worst company in the world. To him (says the same author) the world seemed to have no moral at all. His ghastly doctrine seemed to be that we should eat, drink, and be merry when we can, and go to the deuce (if there be one) when the time comes!

The experience of the self-made Franklin is very suggestive as to the drinking habits of working men in London 160 years ago. For from the habits of printers one may infer the habits of other craftsmen.

When the famous Dr. Franklin was a printer’s boy in England--he came to England in 1724 or 1725--he found all his companions in the printing office drank five pints of porter daily at their work, and one of them even six. He was himself a water-drinker, but could not get any of them to see his argument ‘that bread contained more materials of strength than beer, and that it was only corn in the beer that produced the strength in the liquid.’

Now, as it is quite clear that, if these printing ‘prentices drank five pints of porter at their work, they would have extra drink out of work hours, we have in this anecdote an appalling picture of the drinking in England 160 years ago. What working man now _averages_ five pints per diem?[209]

A useful little work was published in 1725, entitled _The Publick-House-keeper’s Monitor_. The author prefaces, that the reigning vices of the age make it a duty to consider and use any practicable methods to put a stop to ‘that deluge of Impiety which overflows almost this whole nation.’ He complains that there are _too many_ of these houses which enjoy ‘a legal allowance,’ that _many_ ought to be suppressed, but that it is persistently urged

that they are beneficial to the Publick; that they raise the
Revenues of the Crown, and must therefore be supported in
Complaisance to the Government. So far have Political Motives in
this, as well as many other cases, got the better of religious
ones; the Almighty must be serv’d last, if at all: And too many
of the Substitutes of an Earthly Power, are apt to forget whose
Vicegerent he is, and consequently from whom originally they
derive their Authority, which would discover to them to whom they
principally owe their Duty.

For indeed the same Argument, which prevails for the allowing of
so many publick Houses, must, and, I fear, too often does prevail
for the Neglect of a careful Inspection into the Management of
them, and for a Connivance at the many Irregularities committed in
them; ‘twould be a Means of sinking the Publick Revenues, if they
were strictly confin’d to the Observance of those Laws, which were
made for good Purposes. And what does all this amount to, but that
_Cæsar_ must have his Due, with a _non obstante_ that the Almighty
is defrauded?

He then proceeds to discuss the legitimate uses of taverns:--

The First Use of Publick-Houses is, to refresh hungry or weary
Travellers; to receive those, whose Time or Strength permits them
not to go farther, and to furnish them with such Lodging and
Provision, that being recruited, they may be the better able to
proceed in their Journey.

But such houses are too numerous:

Instead of their being too few, there are upon most Roads
abundantly too many Houses of Reception; so many, that they not
only destroy one another’s lawful and honest Maintenance, but lie
like so many Snares in the way of Travellers. There are but few
Parts of this Kingdom, if any, where Market-Towns are not near
enough together, to serve all the Ends and Purposes of Publick
Houses; and I may say, there are but few, if any, Market-Towns,
which are not greatly over-stock’d with them. However, as to
the Usefulness of them in general, let it suffice to observe,
that where they stand conveniently situated, and are wisely and
honestly manag’d, they are undoubtedly a very great Advantage to a
Nation.

Another use, he tells us, is to receive and provide for those who live in the same place and who are not housekeepers themselves, but who, being sojourners, journeymen, or servants, find it a great conveniency to repair to such houses for their meals.

Then again they are useful (he urges) to receive persons who meet together

upon making Contracts or Bargains in the Way of Commerce; and
whether this be done at common and ordinary Times, or at the more
publick and stated Seasons of Fairs and Markets; or lastly, whether
the publick Business of the Nation, or the more private Affairs of
Lordships, Parishes, &c., do require the Meeting together of many
Persons; so that the most convenient Places for these are generally
esteemed such Houses as I am treating of. However, this may be
affirm’d of them all in general, that the Design of them is to be
useful; and that their Usefulness consists in their being duly
and regularly kept, according to the several Laws of the Nation,
provided for that purpose, and founded upon the necessities and
Conveniences of the People.

He proceeds to lay down stated rules to be observed by such persons as keep taverns. He urges upon them first of all, personal sobriety, a strict regard to chastity, a scrupulous regard to honesty, that every one have goods, in quantity and quality, according to the value of their money. He exposes fearlessly the injustice of the

high Rents, to which Publick-Houses are generally advanced, so
as very often to exceed double the Rents of private ones of the
same real Goodness. This tempts the Land-lords of Houses to let
them for that Purpose; and this tempts, and, as they will probably
urge, obliges the Tenants, by some Means or other, to make more
than ordinary Gains upon their Guests; but surely neither of them
consider what they are about; how they jointly conspire to carry
on a Trade of Iniquity, and are Partakers of each other’s Sins. He
that lets his House for a publick one, only because he can thereby
advance his Rent, is not aware how deeply he is concern’d in all
the Wickedness that is consequent thereupon; and he who gives above
the just Value of an House upon the same Account, does not regard
how many Tricks and Frauds, what Impositions and Extortions, what
Allowance of Wickedness and Debauchery, what a continued Scene of
Iniquity, in short, he will be tempted to go through, in Order
to discharge so heavy a burthen of expences, and yet to maintain
himself and his family.

Secondly, he urges that the landlord should avoid and decline every thing that may encourage intemperance.

The World is indeed sufficiently inclin’d to Sensuality of all
Sorts, and Multitudes do frequent Publick-Houses, especially with
a previous Purpose and Design of committing Excess. But even
those, who design it not, are often betray’d into it by the Arts
and Contrivances of them, who are to be Gainers by it, by drawing
them on from one Quantity to another, by helping ‘em to Companions
that will set forward Intemperance, or by doing it themselves; but
especially by giving Credit to those of the meaner Sort, who must
otherwise be sober upon Necessity.

‘Tis surprizing to observe, what Scores a Sot shall be allow’d
to contract at some Houses for Liquor, who would not be trusted
for half the Sum by any of his Neighbours, to provide Bread for
his Family; one, who thus reduces them to a Necessity of begging,
stealing, or perishing, whilst he riotously consumes what might
preserve them from all; but this he finds Means to do, through the
Encouragement of those who have so little love for their neighbours
that they care not how many families they starve to support their
own.

The little book is thoroughly worthy to be reprinted. Would that every one engaged in ‘the trade’ would lay its maxims to heart!

About this time was published a guide-book, under the title of _Vade-mecum of Malt-worms_, containing a list of all the ale-houses in London, &c. Some of these, says Wright, in his _Caricature History of the Georges_, under the name of _mug-houses_, became the resort of small societies or clubs of political partisans. Some of these were the scenes of terrible party turbulence.

But we cannot leave the first Hanoverian reign without noticing another treatise much needed--quite as much--viz. that of Dr. Peter Browne, Bishop of Cork, who in 1716 wrote _A Discourse of Drinking Healths_.

By this time the abuse of the practice of _toasting_ had become a national disgrace.

The way in which anything or anybody that one drank a health to, came to be called a _toast_ has baffled derivation hunters of all degrees, and we are no wiser to-day than we were in 1709, when Isaac Bickerstaffe, in the twenty-fourth number of the newly-established _Tatler_, attempted to settle the matter by saying how, at Bath, in the time of Charles II., a celebrated beauty happened to be in the Cross-Bath, and out of the crowd of her admirers who were in the room, one of them took from her bath a cup of the water in which the lady was standing and drank her health to the company. Another of her admirers who was present, being half intoxicated, instead of pledging or drinking in response to the sentiment, announced his attention of jumping into the water and carrying off the bather, swearing that though he liked not the liquor, yet he would have _the toast_. He was opposed in his resolution, yet this whim gave foundation to the present honour which is due to the lady we mention in our liquor, who has ever since been called a toast. It is far more likely that, as Ellis observes, the use of the word on this occasion was a _consequence_ of its previous employment for a like purpose, and not the cause of its being adopted. It is probable that _toast_ came to be used in the sense it is stated to have been by the bath gallant, gradually, at first meaning a mere material relish or improvement to a glass of liquor, and afterwards getting to be applied to the ‘sentimental relish,’ or, as Sheridan truly calls it, the ‘excuse for the glass.’ Toasted bread formed a favourite addition to English drinks so early as the sixteenth century, and in the cups of sack and punch, brown toasts frequently floated at the top. In Wyther’s _Abuses Stript and Whipt_ (published 1618) mention is made, as has been already noticed, of a draught ‘that must be spiced with a nut-browne tost.’

Hall states that there were some who drank healths upon their knees; some put their own blood into their drink and then drank a health to the king. So that the young Hectors not only cultivated habits of barbarity, but also linked themselves with blasphemy. But there was one other way of drinking healths still to be told, a piece of unparalleled tomfoolery--that of toasting a lady in some nauseous decoction. When this fashion was popular, two students at Oxford were each enamoured of the reigning belle of that sober University, and, as a test of the relative depth of their devotion, they applied themselves to toasting her in the manner we have mentioned. One, determined to prove that his love did not stick at trifles, took a spoonful of soot, mixed it with his wine, and drank off the mixture. His companion, determined not to be outdone, brought from his closet a phial of ink, which he drank, exclaiming, ‘Io triumphe and Miss Molly.’ These crackbrained young men also esteemed it a great privilege to get possession of any great beauty’s shoe, in order that they might ladle wine out of a bowl down their throats with it, the while they drank to the ‘lady of little worth’ or the ‘light-heeled mistress’ who had been its former wearer.

Is there any wonder that Dr. Peter Browne spoke out? He strongly condemned the practice on theological, moral, and common-sense grounds, of opinion that it had its origin in Pagan usages, though he is vague as to the particular custom out of which it arose. He classifies the various acceptations of a _health_ under six heads:--(1) When a curse or imprecation is intended upon the person drinking, or (2) upon any other person; (3) when one drinks in honourable remembrance of absent living friends; or (4) by way of wishing others health and prosperity; or (5) in token of our respect and good-will to another, or approbation of any affair; and (6) as an outward indication of our loyalty. All such health-drinking, the learned prelate urges, is incompatible with the duty of good Christians, whom he exhorts to suppress the practice. He also cites an interesting formula used by the Jews in drinking, which is the first instance, to my knowledge, of a curse being intended instead of an expression of good-will; the words, upon the authority of Buxtorf, meaning, in their ordinary signification, ‘much good may it do you;’ but the utterer thereof, by a kind of mental reservation or adaptation, implied a curse--nay, as many curses as the letters stand for, viz. 165.[210]

From incidental notices we discover how very exceptional was the absence of toasts. Thus, in a description of home life at Badminton, we read:--

If the gentlemen chose a glass of wine the civil offers were made
to go down into the vaults, which were very large and sumptuous,
or servants, at a sign given, attended with salvers, &c., and many
a brisk went round about; but no sitting at table with tobacco and
healths, as the common use is.[212]

But the full extent of the unbridled excess of the period can best be estimated from a survey of the legislative enactments of the reign of the second George. They are worthy of careful consideration.

In the second year of this reign such a duty was placed upon spirits as to be nearly tantamount to a prohibition of their retail sale. A duty of 20_l._ was imposed on the spirit retail licence, which for the first time was ordered to be renewed annually. Moreover, dealers in spirits were placed under the same regulations as _Publicans_, in respect to Licences. This Act, after reciting the inconveniences arising from persons being licensed to keep inns and common ale-houses by justices living at a distance, who were not truly informed as to the need of such inns, or the character of the persons licensed, provides that no licence to keep an inn, ale-house, or victualling-house, or to retail strong waters, should be granted, but at a general meeting of justices of the division. This Act failed to answer the purpose of its promoters. Hawkers went about the streets selling coloured spirits under feigned names; so in the sixth year of the same reign the Act was repealed, and in its place an Act was passed (1732) which imposed a penalty of 10_l._ upon the retail sale of spirits, except sold in dwelling-houses. By this masterpiece of wisdom (!) every householder was potentially converted into a publican; nor did they fail to avail themselves of the permission. Intemperance spread like a plague.

When matters had reached a pitch absolutely intolerable, a petition was presented to Parliament (Feb. 20, 1736) from the magistrates of Middlesex assembled at quarter sessions. In this petition it was stated:--

That the drinking of Geneva, and other distilled liquors, had for
some years past greatly increased:

That the constant and excessive use thereof had destroyed thousands
of his Majesty’s subjects:

That great numbers of others were by its use rendered unfit for
useful labor, debauched in morals, and drawn into all manner of
vice and wickedness:

That those pernicious liquors were not only sold by distillers and
geneva shop-keepers, but by many persons in inferior trades, by
which means journeymen apprentices and servants were drawn in to
taste and by degrees to like, approve, and immoderately to drink
thereof:

That the public welfare and safety, as well as the trade of the
nation, would be greatly affected by it:

That the practice was dangerous to the health, strength, peace, and
morals; and tended greatly to diminish the labour and industry of
his Majesty’s subjects.[213]

Upon the petition being referred to a committee of the entire House, it was resolved:--

That the _low price_ of spirituous liquors is the principal
inducement to the excessive and pernicious use thereof.

That in order to prevent this excessive and pernicious use, a
discouragement be given thereto by a duty to be laid on spirits
sold by retail.

That the selling of such liquors be _restrained_ to persons keeping
public brandy-shops, victualling-houses, coffee-houses, ale-houses,
innholders, _and to such Surgeons and Apothecaries as shall make
use of it by way of medicine only_.[214]

The Government were at last in earnest: a bill was introduced, the intention of which was to strike a fatal blow, to annihilate the gin traffic. But the blow was too sudden. A rebound was almost inevitable. The Gin Act, which has rendered the year 1736 famous in the annals of history, was introduced into and carried through Parliament by Sir Joseph Jekyll. It runs thus:--

Whereas the excessive drinking of spirituous liquors by the common
people tends not only to the destruction of their health and the
debauching of their morals, but to the public ruin:

For remedy thereof--

Be it enacted, that from September 29th no person shall presume,
by themselves or any others employed by them, to sell or retail
any brandy, rum, arrack, usquebaugh, geneva, aqua vitæ, or any
other distilled spirituous liquors, mixed or unmixed, in any less
quantity than two gallons, without first taking out a licence for
that purpose within ten days at least before they sell or retail
the same; for which they shall pay down 50_l._, to be renewed ten
days before the year expires, paying the like sum, and in case of
neglect to forfeit 100_l._, such licenses to be taken out within
the limits of the penny post at the chief office of Excise, London,
and at the next office of Excise for the country. And be it enacted
that for all such spirituous liquors as any retailers shall be
possessed of on or after September 29th, 1736, there shall be paid
a duty of 20_s._ per gallon, and so in proportion for a greater or
lesser quantity above all other duties charged on the same.

The collecting the rates by this Act imposed to be under the
management of the commissioners and officers of Excise by all the
Excise laws now in force (except otherwise provided by this Act),
and all moneys arising by the said duties or licenses for sale
thereof shall be paid into the receipt of his Majesty’s Exchequer
distinctly from other branches of the public revenue; one moiety of
the fines, penalties, and forfeitures to be paid to his Majesty and
successors, the other to the person who shall inform on any one for
the same.

The Act was virtually prohibitive. But the people were too far gone to bear it. It was ineffectual to check even the progress of intemperance. The vices of the populace rendered them desperate. The Act, says Dr. Lees, produced vast excitement.

The populace of London, Bristol, Norwich, and other towns, honoured what they called the ‘death of Madame Gin’ with formal ‘funeral’ processions, whereat many of her devoted admirers, male and female, got ‘gloriously drunk.’ The distillers took out _wine_ licences, offered gin--spiced and wined--for sale, under a new name; while _drams_ were sold in the brandy-shops, under the quaint appellations of ‘Sangree,’ ‘Tom Row,’ ‘Cuckold’s Comfort,’ ‘Parliament Gin,’ ‘The Last Shift,’ ‘Ladies’ Delight,’ ‘King Theodore of Corsica,’ ‘Cholic-and-Gripe-Waters,’ &c. Lord Cholmondeley said, on the part of the Government, that the law exposed them to _rebellion_, and that they had information of its being designed; but by parading the troops in the dangerous locality, they had probably prevented riot and bloodshed. In March 1738 a proclamation was passed to enforce the Act and to protect the efforts of the officers of justice.

The consumption of spirits in England and Wales rose from 13,500,000 gallons in 1734, to 19,000,000 in 1742, and there were within the bills of mortality more than 20,000 houses and shops in which gin was sold by retail. As might be expected, _informers_ became objects of popular hatred, and were hunted through the streets. Of course, the more respectable traffickers abandoned the proscribed business, which fell into the hands of reckless and disreputable men, who set at nought the provisions of the law. ‘Within two years of the passing of the Act,’ says the historian, though 12,000 persons had been convicted of offences against it, ‘it had become odious and contemptible;’ and policy, as well as humanity, forced the commissioners of excise to mitigate its penalties.

The House of Lords soon rang with impetuous debate; and the Act was doomed to modification. In 1743, the Lords read a Bill for repealing certain Duties on Spirituous Liquors and on Licences for retailing the same. In the debate, Lord Hervey remarked:--

As it is the quality of this malignant liquor to corrupt the mind,
it likewise destroys the body.... Drunkenness not only corrupts men
by taking away those restraints by which they are withheld from
the perpetration of villanies, but by superadding the temptations
of poverty--temptations not easily resisted even by those whose
eyes are open to the consequences of their actions, but which will
_certainly_ prevail over those whose apprehensions are laid asleep,
and who never extend their views beyond the gratification of the
present moment.... Instead, therefore, of promoting a practice
_so evidently detrimental_ to society, let us oppose it with the
most vigorous efforts; let us begin our opposition by opposing
this bill, and then consider whether the execution of the former
law shall be enforced, _or whether another more efficacious can
be formed_.... No man, unacquainted with the motives by which
senatorial debates are too often influenced, would suspect that
after the pernicious qualities of this liquor, and the general
inclination among the people to the immoderate use of it, it could
be afterwards enquired, _Whether this universal thirst for poison
ought to be encouraged by the legislature?_

LORD LONSDALE said--In every part of this great metropolis, whoever
shall pass along the streets, will find wretchedness stretched upon
the pavement, insensible and motionless, and only removed by the
charity of passengers from the danger of being crushed by carriages
or trampled by horses, or strangled with filth in the common
sewers; and others, _less helpless perhaps, but more dangerous, who
have drunk too much to fear punishment, but not enough to hinder
them from provoking it_.... No man can pass a single hour in public
places without meeting such objects, or hearing such expressions
as disgrace human nature,--such as cannot be looked upon without
horror, or heard without indignation, _and which there is no
possibility of removing or preventing_, WHILST THIS HATEFUL LIQUOR
IS PUBLICLY SOLD.... These liquors not only infatuate the mind, but
poison the body; they not only fill our streets with madmen and our
prisons with criminals, but our hospitals with cripples.... Nor
does the use of spirits, my lords, only impoverish the public by
lessening the number of useful and laborious hands, but by cutting
off those recruits by which its natural and inevitable losses are
to be supplied. The use of distilled liquors impairs the fecundity
of the human race, and hinders that increase which Providence has
ordained for the support of the world. Those women who riot in this
poisonous debauchery are quickly disabled from bearing children,
or, what is still more destructive to general happiness, produce
children diseased from their birth, and who, therefore, are an
additional burden, and must be supported through a miserable life
by that labour which they cannot share, and must be protected by
that community of which they cannot contribute to the defence.[215]

Notwithstanding volleys of violent opposition, especially from the Bishops, the Bill was carried: sixty per cent. of the House voting in its favour. The law was again relaxed. Parliament was overwhelmed with petitions which were the expression of a disappointed philanthropy.

The petitions of the Lord Mayor and Corporation of London, state,
‘that the common and habitual use of spirituous liquors by the
lower ranks of people, prevails to such a degree, that _it
destroys the health, strength, and industry of the poor of both
sexes and all ages, inflames them with rage and barbarity, and
occasions frequent robberies and murders in the streets of the
Metropolis_.’ The petition from the Minister and Churchwardens of
St. Martin’s, Westminster, recites that in consequence of the low
price of spirits, their use has become excessive--‘the substance of
the people is wasted--idleness and disorder have taken the place
of industry--and robberies and murders are committed under their
influence.’ The petition from Bristol states, ‘that the bad effects
of spirituous liquors have become apparent in the destruction of
the habits of the people--corrupting their morals, and rendering
them incapable of manly employments’--reducing them to poverty,
_and hardening them to the commission of crimes of the utmost
enormity_. That of the Merchants adds--‘commerce was injured.’
These crowds of petitions almost universally affirm that the _great
increase in the number of Gin-shops, and the low price of the
article_, were the causes of its excessive use _amongst the lower
orders_.

On these representations, the House again resolved ‘That it was
necessary to regulate the sale of spirits by retail.’ Measures were
adopted for the _suppression of smuggling_, and the celebrated
Tippling Act was passed.[216]

By this Act, no persons could recover for the price of spirits sold in less quantities than 20_s._ at one time.

But just in proportion as spirits were rendered legally inaccessible, appetite was diverted into the channel of beer. The rent was made possibly worse. Hitherto it had been necessary to impose restrictions upon the article sold; now the vendor must furnish guarantees. The 26th of the same George, after declaring former laws to be defective and insufficient, required the justices, when they granted licences, to take the recognisances of the _persons_ licensed in 10_l._, and two sureties of 5_l._, for _good conduct_, with other restrictions.

The page of events at this time is eminently instructive. A government cannot be far in advance of the people whom it governs. Extreme repression has been and ever will be evaded. In the present instance, not only was a demand for beer created, but resort was had to any and every expedient to glut the appetite upon the favourite spirit. The clandestine sale of gin was the natural consequence. The gaols groaned under the burden of atonement for unpaid penalties. Within two years of the passing of the Gin Act some twelve thousand persons had been punished for its violation. The measure proved a failure, for (as Smollett observes) though no licence was obtained, and no duty paid, the liquor continued to be sold in all corners of the streets; informers were intimidated by the threats of the people, and the justices of the peace, either from indolence or corruption, neglected to put the law into execution.

It is important to compare the consumption of low wines (weak spirits) and spirits, before and after the passing of the Act. The total consumption for England and Wales in 1733 was 11,282,890 gallons; and in 1742 the consumption was 19,897,300 gallons. No wonder that the Act was repealed. Had the Government imposed a graduated scale of duty upon spirits, a scale ever sliding upwards, their price might have been raised by almost insensible stages, till the means of purchase would have been well-nigh precluded.

But in other directions a wiser legislation found favour. Distillation from grain, malt, or flour was prohibited, and when it was proposed in Parliament to relax this measure, abundant were the petitions for its retention. It was therefore resolved that the law should be in force till December 1759: and the success of the measure is established from the fact that the consumption of spirits in England and Wales fell, from the nineteen millions of 1742, to an annual average of about four millions during the interval between the years 1760 and 1782.

Much is said in the present day of female intemperance. The Lords’ Committee had aroused public attention to the subject. But it was rife enough in the period under discussion. A poet of the century makes no secret of the proclivity.[217]

Britannia this upas-tree bought of Mynheer,
Removed it through Holland and planted it here;
‘Tis now a stock plant of the genus wolf’s bane,
And one of them blossoms in Marybone Lane.

The House that surrounds it stands first in the row,
Two doors at right angles swing open below;
And the children of misery daily steal in,
And the poison they draw they denominate _Gin_.

There enter the prude, and the reprobate boy,
The mother of grief and the daughter of joy,
The serving-maid slim, and the serving-man stout,
They quickly steal in, and they slowly reel out.

The following incident related in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1748, points to a terrible condition of things:--

At a christening at Beddington in Surrey, the nurse was so
intoxicated that after she had undress’d the child, instead of
laying it in the cradle, she put it behind a large fire, which
burnt it to death in a few minutes. She was examin’d before a
magistrate, and said she was quite stupid and senseless, so that
she took the child for a log of wood; on which she was discharged!!

Nor was any class of society exempt from the imputation; but the curtain need not be drawn.

And what a stream of ability and learning was polluted by those mischievous compounds! Men of letters, tragedians, statesmen, fell--ignobly fell--before the insidious destroyer.

Bolingbroke, when in office, sat up whole nights drinking, and in
the morning, having bound a wet napkin round his forehead and his
eyes, to drive away the effects of his intemperance, he hastened
without sleep to his official business.[218]

Lord Stair, in a letter to Horace Walpole, writes:--

Poor Harry (Bolingbroke) is turned out from being Secretary of
State.... They call him knave and traitor.... I believe all poor
Harry’s fault was that he could not play his part with a grave
enough face.... He got drunk now and then.

Lord Cartaret, afterwards Earl Granville, was a great scholar, and a man of invariable high spirits.

The period of his ascendency was known by the name of the _Drunken
Administration_; and the expression was not altogether figurative.
His habits were extremely convivial; and champagne probably lent
its aid to keep him in that state of joyous excitement in which his
life was passed.... Driven from office, he retired laughing to his
books and his bottle.... Ill as he had been used, he did not seem,
says Horace Walpole, to have any resentment, or indeed any feeling
except thirst.[219]

Macaulay implies that Cartaret occasionally varied his champagne for ‘a daily half gallon of Burgundy.’

William Pulteney, created ‘Earl of Bath’ on the resignation of Walpole, has been generally reckoned amongst the men of the bottle. Indeed, Mr. Lecky remarks (i. 478) that he ‘is said to have shortened his life by drinking.’ But how can this be? He lived to the fairly respectable age of 82. Has he not been confounded with some namesake? For what says this same author in another volume?--‘Lord Bath, the old rival of Walpole, subscribed liberally to the orphanage of Georgia, and was a frequent and apparently devout attendant at Whitefield’s Chapel in Tottenham Court Road.’ In fact in his old age he became a Methodist. Was such a man likely to be a hard drinker?

Of Walpole, Mr. Lecky remarks, that when he was a young man, his father was accustomed to pour into his glass a double portion of wine, saying, ‘Come, Robert, you shall drink twice while I drink once; for I will not permit the son in his sober senses to be witness of the intoxication of his father.’

It speaks volumes for the son of such a father, that when Mr. Chute gibed him for stupidity, which he set down to ‘temperance diet,’ Walpole protested, saying, ‘I have such lamentable proofs every day of the stupefying qualities of beef, ale, and wine, that I have contracted a most religious veneration for your spiritual _nourriture_.’

Methodism, drinking, and gambling, were all on the increase. So says Walpole. Of the first, he sarcastically says,--‘It increases as fast as any religious nonsense did.’ Of the second he remarks,--‘Drinking is at the highest wine-mark.’ But people were gluttons as well as drunkards.

The aristocracy of letters were infected, no less than that of rank. Truly did Chesterfield observe, that wine and wassail have taken more strong places than gun or steel. Jonathan Swift is generally regarded as a free liver, though probably the company he kept is often answerable for the imputation. The following notices must serve as material for judgment. Dr. King states that about three years before his death, he observed that he was affected by the wine which he drank after dinner; next day, on his complaining of his health, he took the liberty to tell him he had drunk too much wine. Swift was startled, and replied that he always regarded himself as a very temperate man, and never exceeded the quantity his physician prescribed. But, according to King, his physician never drank less than two bottles of claret after dinner. But King was a water-drinker.[220] Scott says of Swift’s entertainments that they were economical, ‘although his guests, so far as conviviality was consistent with decorum, were welcomed with excellent wine. Swift, who used to declare he was never intoxicated in his life, had nevertheless lived intimately with those at whose tables wine was liberally consumed, and he was not himself averse to the moderate use of it.’ The same author adds that Dr. King said that Swift drank about a pint of claret after dinner, which the doctor considered too much.

On the other hand his satirists accused him of excess. One of them says, ‘He was heard to make some self-denying promises in prayer, that, for the time to come, he would stint himself to two or three bottles in an evening.’[221] Again, the Archbishop of Cashel seems to have known his weak point. In a letter, inviting him on a visit, and giving him minute instructions as to the route, he baits him by the intelligence that he would pass a parson’s cabin where was a private cellar of which the parson kept the key, in which was always a hogshead of the best wine that could be got, in bottles well-corked, upon their side.[222]

His poems often betrayed the flavour of the bottle. Witness his _Country Quarter Sessions_, which begins:--

Three or four parsons full of October,
Three or four squires between drunk and sober.

Again, in his _Baucis and Philemon_; Goody Baucis in bestirring herself to provide the hermit’s hospitality--

Then stepp’d aside to fetch ‘em drink,
Fill’d a large jug up to the brink,
And saw it fairly twice go round.

Somerville, the author of _The Chase_, was no doubt fond of the bottle, as we see very clearly from the letter of his friend Shenstone after his death:--

Our old friend Somerville is dead! I did not imagine I could
have been so sorry as I find myself on this occasion.--_Sublatum
quærimus._ I can now excuse all his foibles; impute them to age,
and to distress of circumstances: the last of these considerations
wrings my very soul to think on. For a man of high spirit,
conscious of having (at least in one production) generally pleased
the world, to be plagued and threatened by wretches that are low in
every sense; _to be forced to drink himself into pains of the body,
in order to get rid of the pains of the mind, is a misery_.

James Quin the tragedian was a _bon vivant_. After being engaged at Drury Lane Theatre, a tavern brawl involved him in law proceedings, and he was obliged for a time to leave the country. His epitaph, by Garrick, depicts the man:--

A plague on Egypt’s arts! I say;
Embalm the dead, on senseless clay
Rich wines and spices waste!
Like sturgeon, or like brawn, shall I,
Bound in a precious pickle, lie,
Which I shall never taste.

Let me embalm this flesh of mine
With turtle fat and Bordeaux wine,
And spoil th’ Egyptian trade.
Than Humphry’s Duke more happy I;
Embalm’d alive, old Quin shall die,
A mummy ready made.

Richard Savage lived a very profligate life. Johnson says that ‘in no time of his life was it any part of his character to be the first of the company that desired to separate.’ It was when inebriated that he killed one Mr. James Sinclair, 1727, and was within an ace of being hanged for the same. Lord Tyrconnel, who had been very kind to him, and suddenly dropped him, gives a very bad account of his drinking habits.

He affirmed that it was the constant practice of Mr. Savage to
enter a tavern with any company that proposed it, drink the most
expensive wines with great profusion, and when the reckoning was
demanded, be without money: if, as it often happened, his company
were willing to defray his part, the affair ended without any
ill consequences; but if they were refractory, and expected that
the wine should be paid for by him that drank it, his method of
composition was to take them with him to his own apartment, assume
the government of the house, and order the butler in an imperious
manner to set the best wine in the cellar before his company,
who often drank till they forgot the respect due to the house in
which they were entertained, indulged themselves in the utmost
extravagance of merriment, practised the most licentious frolics,
and committed all the outrages of drunkenness.

No wonder Lord Tyrconnel dropped him. Even Savage himself admitted that Lord Tyrconnel ‘often exhorted him to regulate his method of life, _and not to spend all his nights in taverns_, and that he appeared desirous that he would pass those hours with him, which he so freely bestowed upon others.’ The poor fellow eventually, having estranged all his friends by his petulance as well as his bad habits, got deplorably poor, and ‘wandered about the town, slighted and neglected, in quest of a dinner, which he did not always obtain.’ It was at this period that we read the extraordinary account of him, that ‘he was not able to bear the smell of meat till the action of his stomach was restored by a cordial.’ On one occasion in great distress at Bristol, ‘he received a remittance of five pounds from London, with which he provided himself a decent coat, and determined to go to London, but unhappily spent his money at a favourite tavern.’

The tale goes on, ‘Thus was he again confined to Bristol, where he was every day hunted by bailiffs. In this exigence he once more found a friend, who sheltered him in his house, though at the usual inconveniences with which his company was attended; for he could neither be persuaded to go to bed in the night nor to rise in the day.’

But if many were the victims of excess, many too were the champions of restraint; and, first of all, we turn to Dr. Samuel Johnson. In his early life he drank wine; let him testify for himself.

In an interesting conversation with an old college friend, one Edwards, held April 17, 1778, he made a remark which Sir Wilfrid Lawson would hail:--

_Edwards._ How do you live, sir? For my part, I must have my
regular meals and a glass of good wine. I find I require it.

_Johnson._ I now drink no wine, sir. Early in life I drank wine;
for many years I drank none. I then for some years drank a good
deal....

_Edwards._ I am grown old: I am sixty-five.

_Johnson._ I shall be sixty-eight next birthday. Come, sir, DRINK
WATER, AND PUT IN FOR A HUNDRED.

When he first came to London, at the age of 29, he abstained entirely (_teste_ Boswell) from fermented liquors, ‘a practice to which he rigidly conformed for many years together at different periods of his life.’ Upon this point Croker has a suggestive note, apropos of the effect of drink on hypochondria:--