Chapter XV (2)

One of the first things that strikes an observer who considers, as impartially as he can, the case put forward by the extreme advocates of abstinence, is that the controversy itself is a very modern one, and that, with the tendency to run into opposite extremes which is a characteristic of human opinion, we pass suddenly from the centuries in which it was held no shame for a man to be drunk, into these present years, when there exists a considerable, and in some sense, an influential body of persons, who not only will not touch alcoholic drink themselves upon any terms, but who think it their duty to press for such legislation as would deprive all men, be they temperate or otherwise, of the power of buying, selling, or drinking any liquor of which alcohol is a constituent. “Poison!” “Touch not the accursed thing!” “Away with it!” and so on—very voluble, occasionally eloquent, sometimes plausible. But will the fierce denunciations of these apostles of a new religion—a religion not of temperance, but, as it has been well called, of “intemperate abstinence,” bear the searching light of calm and quiet argument? We had once a friend who, while fond of his pipe, was always interested in reading about the terrible evils which the weed would, according to the infallible dicta of the anti-tobacco lecturers, be sure in time to bring upon his unfortunate constitution. Before sitting down to read one of these lectures, he used always to light a large and favourite briar; he said it enabled him to follow the lecturer’s points so much better. Now we do not ask our readers to follow the example of our friend _mutatis mutandis_. We do not say that such a proceeding would of necessity assist him in following our arguments. All we claim {430} is a patient hearing, for there never has been a time in which an unprejudiced discussion of the subject would be of greater advantage than at present.

Human habit of centuries, of thousands of years, of such time that the memory and record of the human race, to use a legal phrase, runneth not to the contrary, is evidence in our favour. Whenever he has had the requisite skill, man has produced, enjoyed, and, we maintain, has been improved by drinks in which alcohol formed a constituent part. The practice of civilised nations for thousands of years is, then, so far as it goes, an argument in favour of temperance as opposed to abstinence. We do not wish to put this part of our case too high, and our meaning cannot be better expressed than by the words of Sir James Paget, who, in an essay on this subject in the _Contemporary Review_, writes: “The beliefs of reasonable people are, doubtless, by a large majority favourable to moderation rather than abstinence, and this should not be regarded as of no weight in the discussion. For, although the subject be one in which few, even among reasonable people, have made any careful observations, and fewer still have thought with any care, yet this very indifference to the subject, this readiness to fall in with custom, a custom maintained in the midst of a constant love of change, and outliving all that mere fashion has sustained—all this is enough to prove that the evidence of the custom being a bad one is not clear.”

It is an indisputable fact that nations who have used alcohol have attained to a greater perfection in power and will to do good work, and a longer duration of life in which such work can be performed, than those who have used no alcohol; and, confining our attention to Europe, may we not say that these powers of work, these activities of body and mind in enterprise, in invention, and in production, are more remarkably developed in the inhabitants of the northern than of the southern parts of the Continent, that is to say, among those who have habitually drank more than those who have drank less? And may we not ask how it is that, if the use of alcohol in moderation be pernicious, the inherited effects of it have not during these vast periods of time during which it has been used, made themselves apparent in a marked degeneracy of the race, since we know that these results will make themselves very conspicuous indeed in two generations of persons who are habitually intemperate?

We are told that it is unnatural to make use of alcoholic drinks, and we are lectured about what man in his natural state would do, or {431} not do. This is a misuse of terms; the state in which mankind is at any particular period, the point in his path of development which he has then reached, and his then environment, these constitute his natural state, and not some more or less hypothetical state of being which has been now left far behind.

In order to enable them to thrust their theories upon a certainly unwilling audience, it would be very convenient for the abstainers to show, if they could, that alcohol, in any form and no matter how diluted, is in itself a bad thing. First, then, let us consider whether alcohol, as such, is food. On this point Dr. Lander Brunton says: “The argument in favour of alcohol being food is that it is retained in the body and supplies the place of other foods, so that the quantity of food which would without it be insufficient, with its aid becomes sufficient.” He also quotes Dr. Hammond, who observed in his own case that when his diet was insufficient, the addition of a little alcohol to it not only prevented him from losing weight, as he had previously done, but converted this loss into a positive gain.

The late G. H. Lewes, in his _Principles of Physiology_, also speaks conclusively on this subject, pointing out that alcohol is one of the alimentary principles. “In compliance with the custom of physiologists we are forced to call alcohol food, and very efficient food too. If it be not food, then neither is sugar food.” Mr. Lewes also states that alcohol taken in large quantities is harmful, depriving the mucous membrane of the stomach of all its water, but that taken in small quantities and diluted it has just the opposite effect, increasing the secretion by the stimulus it gives to the circulation.

The general opinion of the medical world appears to be that alcohol as such, is a food in a special sense, viz., that it checks the waste of tissue and enables a person to attain to a high standard of health and strength mentally and bodily while taking less food than would be necessary without the alcohol. Moleschott says that “although forming none of the constituents of blood, alcohol limits the combustion of those constituents, and in this way is equivalent to so much blood. Alcohol is the savings bank of the tissues. He who eats little and drinks alcohol in moderation, retains as much in his blood and tissues as he who eats more and drinks no alcohol.”

The argument to the effect that alcohol must be useless, because chemists have as yet been unable to trace the exact form and manner in which it acts upon the human economy, would seem to be fallacious in the face of the experience, which shows that it does act, and act {432} beneficially, when taken in a suitable form and in suitable quantity. Experience shows, and instances by the hundred could be given, from the works of medical men, that life can be sustained for long periods of time solely upon alcoholic drinks. Dr. Brudenell Carter mentions a case in his own experience of an old gentleman who lived for many months in moderate strength and comfort and without any remarkable emaciation upon alcoholic drinks alone. Dr. Thomas Inman, in a paper read before the British Medical Association, gives an instance of a lady who twice in succession nursed a child, subsisting upon each occasion during the greater part of twelve months upon brandy and bitter ale alone; the children, he adds, grew up strong and healthy.

Dr. Francis E. Anstie, in an article published in the _Cornhill Magazine_ in 1862, draws attention to the fact that many substances have an action on the body in small doses, _totally different in kind_ to that which they exercise in large doses _e.g._, common salt, arsenic, and many others which are either food or poisons, according to the dose. “We are compelled, therefore,” he writes, “to believe that in _doses proportioned to the needs of the system at the time_, alcohol acts as a food;” and he instances several cases of longevity in which alcohol was the only aliment, excepting in some cases a little water, and in others a spare allowance of bread. Decisively vanquished on this ground, our opponents return to the attack: “You must abstain,” say they, “because your practice, which is now moderate, will insensibly become excessive.” Here we again turn to Mr. Lewes’s work on Physiology, and quote the pithy argument by which he refutes this fallacy. A portion is italicised for the benefit of tea drinkers: “To suppose there is any necessary connection between moderation and excess, is to ignore Physiology, and fly in the face of evidence . . . Men take their pint of beer or pint of wine daily, for a series of years. This dose daily produces its effect; and if at any time thirst or social seduction makes them drink a quart in lieu of a pint, they are at once made aware of the excess. Men drink one or two cups of tea or coffee at breakfast with unvarying regularity for a whole lifetime; but whoever felt the necessity of gradually increasing the amount to three, four, or five cups? Yet we know what a stimulant tea is; we know _that treble the amount of our daily consumption would soon produce paralysis_—why are we not irresistibly led to this fatal excess?”

Let us now return to our authorities, and from the wealth of material which exists in the published opinions of medical men of distinction, choose a few more extracts in favour of temperance as opposed to total {433} abstinence. Professor Liebig, for instance, says that wine, spirits, and beer are _necessary_ principles for the important process of respiration, and it would seem that the stomachs of all mankind, _teetotallers included_, will secrete alcohol from the food which is eaten. If any man, therefore, is resolved to carry out total abstinence strictly, he must refuse every sort of vegetable food, even bread itself; for all such diet contains more or less of alcohol.

Sir James Paget, in the article already referred to, asserts that the habitual moderate use of alcoholic drinks is generally beneficial, and that, in the question raised between temperance and abstinence, the verdict should be in favour of temperance.

Dr. A. J. Bernays, in an essay on _The Moderate Use of Alcohols_, alluding to water as a proposed substitute, remarks on the wretched character of the water which is supplied in towns, and the difficulty of getting it pure. “Water which has gone through some form of preparation, especially through some form of cooking, as in beer, is generally better suited for meals than water itself.”

Dr. Carpenter has also drawn attention to the wholesomeness of bitter beer at meals. “There is a class of cases,” he writes, “in which we believe that malt liquors constitute a better medicine than could be administered under any other form; those, namely, in which the stomach labours under a permanent deficiency of digestive powers.” Bitter beer, he asserts, assists digestion in cases in which no medicine would be of use.

This question of the water reminds us of the following tale: A cobbler was listening to the persuasive eloquence of a teetotaller, and getting somewhat dry over the prosy argument. “Well,” said the knight of St. Crispin, “all you say amounts to this—that water is the best thing any man can drink. Now I am not proud, and am easily satisfied, and don’t want the best—stout, or ale, or even bitter-beer is quite good enough for the likes of me.”

It is very often pointed out that the agricultural labourer and the working classes generally would be better off if they spent the money devoted to beer in food. This is, however, open to question, keeping in mind the fact that alcohol enables the human frame to exist with a smaller amount of food than would be otherwise necessary. Dr. C. D. Redcliffe, in giving his views on alcohol, in the form of a conversation between himself and a patient, speaks very positively on this point. “The glass of malt liquor,” he writes, “or cyder or perry or common wine, if the man have the luck to live in a wine-growing country, will {434} cost less than the amount of ordinary food which must otherwise be eaten in order to preserve health. I have no doubt of the saving in pocket which will result from the adoption of the practice recommended . . . . and I am equally certain that the result will be as beneficial to health as it will be satisfactory financially.” Liebig also testifies to the same effect, stating that in families where beer was withheld, and money given in compensation, it was soon found that the monthly consumption of bread was so strikingly increased that the beer was twice paid for, once in money and a second time in bread.

Mr. Brudenell Carter, while he was practising his profession in a mining district, and daily brought into contact with the results of drunken habits, determined that he “should be a better advocate of abstinence if he practised it,” and he accordingly gave up his liquor. The results we give in his own words:—“After about two months of total abstinence, the conviction was reluctantly forced upon me that the experiment was a failure, and that I must give it up.” His symptoms pointed, he says, “in a perfectly plain way to an excess of waste over repair. I returned to my bitter beer, and in the course of a week was well again.”

A volume could be filled with similar experiences, but in summing up the result of modern medical opinion, we are contented to rest our case on what has been said on this point by the two great authorities we have before quoted, viz., Sir James Paget and Dr. Bernays; the former writes: “As for the opinions of the medical profession, they are, by a vast majority, in favour of moderation. It may be admitted that, of late years, the number of cases has increased in which habitual abstinence from alcoholic drinks has been deemed better than habitual moderation. But, excluding those of children and young persons, the number of these cases is still very small, and few of them have been observed through a long course of years, so as to test the probable influence of a life-long habitual abstinence. Whatever weight, then, may be assigned to the balance of opinions among medical men, it certainly must be given in favour of moderation, not of abstinence.” Dr. Bernays is still stronger. “The experience of mankind is better than individual experience, and so, for every medical man of distinction who is in favour of total abstinence, I would find twenty men who are against it.” Hardly anyone who has lived among teetotallers will deny that they are large eaters. Now the greater the amount of solid food that is required to keep a human being up to the normal level of health and strength, the greater amount of nervous energy will be consumed {435} in the process of digestion, and the less superfluity of energy will that person have in reserve to meet the other exigencies and activities of life. It therefore seems to follow with the certainty of a mathematical demonstration, that if, as those who are best qualified to judge assure us is the case, the moderate consumption of alcoholic liquors enables a person to keep himself in health and strength upon a less amount of solid food than would be necessary without the aid of alcohol, the life of that man, other things being equal, must be fuller of capacities for all kinds of work, both mental and bodily, than that of a man who takes no alcohol, and who is in consequence forced to use up a greater amount of nerve force in the consumption of a sufficiency of solids to support himself. It is an uncontrovertible fact that the best work has always been done by the moderate drinkers. The physical condition of rigid abstainers has frequently been commented upon; and without wishing to say anything unkind, or uncharitable, about men who are doubtless honest and conscientious, though, in our view, misguided, we cannot but suggest the question—Is the appearance of the average abstainer, who now, happily for the cause of truth, is known to all the world by the blue ribbon he wears, such as may be considered a good advertisement for the opinions he advocates? Does his appearance seem to indicate a physical or intellectual superiority to the average member of the _genus homo_? We think there can be but one opinion on this point, and it is that each and every of these questions must be answered with an emphatic negative.

On the action of the Temperance Societies, Dr. Moxon, in a very able article, _Alcohol and Individuality_, after relating how a poor cooper, having a fever caused by a wound, died rather than take the alcohol which was absolutely necessary to sustain him, says: “I believe that to a large extent teetotalism lays firmest hold on those who are least likely ever to become drunkards, and are most likely to want at times the medicinal use of alcohol—sensitive, good-natured people, of weak constitution, to whom the Sacred Ecclesiast directed his strange sounding but needful advice, ‘Be not righteous over much, neither make thyself over wise: why shouldst thou destroy thyself?’”

In August, 1884, _The Times_ devoted several columns to an exhaustive consideration of teetotal theories and the use of alcohol, and it may be said, without fear of contradiction, that neither before nor since has a more valuable treatise appeared on the subject. The writer divides total abstainers into three classes. Of the first class he says: “There are some persons who seem not to require alcohol because they easily {436} digest a large quantity of solid food, and especially of saccharine and starchy matters, . . . . but it is fairly questionable whether their work in life would not be better in quantity or in quality, or both, if they were to consume less solid food, and to make up for the deficiency by a little beer or wine. There are others who have a distinctly morbid tendency towards excess, . . . . which leaves them no safety except in total abstinence. The difficulty with these persons is to keep them from drink, however hurtful they may know it to be, for their condition is one of disease, and they have seldom sufficient resolution to abstain. When they do abstain they furnish striking examples of the success of teetotalism by being changed from a state closely bordering on insanity into responsible members of society; but the ordinary experience with regard to them is that they have a succession of relapses into intemperance, and that they ultimately die, directly or indirectly, from the effects of drink. . . . The third class of abstainers is formed by those who are actuated in the main by benevolent and conscientious motives, which, unfortunately, are seldom controlled by the possession of adequate knowledge. Many clergymen abstain ‘for the sake of example,’ without pausing to consider whether the example may not, in some cases, be a bad one, and whether they would not discharge their manifest duties more efficiently by help of the added force which alcohol would give. Many persons get on fairly well without alcohol because their powers are never subjected to any considerable strain, and these persons too often break down when any strain comes upon them, unless they will consent to modify their mode of living. This, as is too well known, they will not always do; and every medical man has seen instances of fanatical teetotalism leading to complete destruction of the health of those who were governed by it.”

With regard to teetotal societies, the writer considers that they do very little good and a great deal of harm. “They fail,” he says, “to touch the evils of drunkenness, except in a very limited fashion, and they take away alcohol from vast numbers who would be better for the moderate use of it. We think the time has come when philanthropists should cease to listen to mere declamation, and should try to look calmly and fearlessly at the results of observation and experience. Many a good man is injuring his health and diminishing his usefulness in order to adhere, ‘for the sake of example,’ to a fantastic deprivation.”

To check the evils of drunkenness, we rely not on prohibitory legislation, which has been tried elsewhere and found wanting, but on the gradual spread of education and enlightenment; the effects of public {437} opinion, the improvement of the well-being of the humbler classes more particularly with reference to their habitations both in town and country. Perhaps also, but here we speak with greater diffidence on account of the practical difficulties in which such a proposal is involved a remedy is to be found in the confinement of those persons who have shown by their conduct that their inability to refrain from vile excesses arises from actual mental disease.

Lord Bramwell, in a pamphlet called _Drink_, has written to very much the same effect. He also calls in question the right of society to interfere with individual liberty to the extent proposed by the teetotallers. Is it reasonable, he asks, that because some people drink to excess, alcoholic liquors are to be denied to millions to whom it is a daily pleasure and enjoyment with no attendant harm? If a man is drunk in public, punish him; but it does seem hard that the sober man should be punished—for withholding a pleasure and inflicting a pain are equally punishment. “Then see the mischief of such laws,” he continues. “The public conscience does not go with them. It is certain they will be broken. Every one knows that stealing is wrong; disgrace follows conviction. But every one knows that drinking a glass of beer is not wrong; no discredit attaches to it. It is done, and when done against the law you have the usual mischiefs of law-breaking, smuggling, informations, oaths, perjury, shuffling, and lies. Besides, as a matter of fact, it fails. Nothing can show this more strongly than the failure in Wales of the Sunday Closing Act.” Lord Bramwell in the end comes to the conclusion that drunkenness cannot be prevented by legislation. “Whether it is desirable to limit the number of drink shops,” he writes, “is a matter as to which I have great doubt and difficulty. But grant that there is the right to forbid it, wholly or partially, in place or time, I say it is a right which should not be exercised. To do so is to interfere with the innocent enjoyment of millions in order to lessen the mischief arising from the folly or evil propensities, not of themselves, but of others. And, further, that such legislation is attended with the mischiefs which always follow from the creation of offences in law which are not so in conscience. Punish the mischievous drunkard, indeed, perhaps, even punish him for being drunk in public, and so a likely source of mischief. Punish, on the same principle, the man who sells drink to the drunken. But go no further. Trust to the good sense and improvement of mankind, and let charity be shown to those who would trust to them rather than to law.”

Other arguments in opposition to those who would introduce what {438} is known as local option may be briefly summed up as follows:—Such a system would establish the principle that a majority of ratepayers in one district may put a stop to any trade or calling to which they may happen to object, although the same trade remains perfectly legitimate in other places; it would concentrate the evil, shifting the area of the sale of drink, and thus intensifying the mischiefs complained of; it would introduce invidious class distinctions, since its effects would principally be felt by the poor and the labouring classes, and in place of a trade which is now subject to inspection and regulation, it would substitute a secret and irresponsible one.

In this discussion, the balance of experience, of reason, and of authority is vastly in favour of the temperate man rather than the abstainer, and it may be said without fear of contradiction from any reasonable or unbiassed person that, for the great majority of the people of this country, the most wholesome, the most nutritious, and the most pleasing alcoholic liquor, is the “wine of the country,” good, sound ale and beer.

To the reader who has been patient enough to follow us thus far, we give our best thanks, hoping that he may have found something to amuse, something, perhaps, to instruct in these pages—our best thanks, we say, and, as a parting word, a few verses by old John Gay, entitled

A BALLAD ON ALE.

Whilst some in epic strains delight, Whilst others pastorals invite, As taste or whim prevail; Assist me all ye tuneful Nine, Support me in the great design, To sing of nappy Ale.

Some folks of cider make a rout, And cider’s well enough no doubt When better liquors fail; But wine that’s richer, better still, Ev’n wine itself (deny ’t who will) Must yield to nappy Ale.

Rum, brandy, gin with choicest smack, From Holland brought, Batavia rack, All these will nought avail {439} To cheer a truly British heart, And lively spirits to impart, Like humming nappy Ale.

Oh ! whether thee I closely hug In honest can, or nut-brown jug, Or in the tankard hail, In barrel or in bottle pent, I give the generous spirit vent, Still may I feast on Ale.

But chief when to the cheerful glass, From vessel pure, thy streamlets pass, Then most thy charms prevail; Then, then, I’ll bet and take the odds That nectar, drink of Heathen Gods, Was poor compared to Ale.

Give me a bumper: fill it up: See how it sparkles in the cup; O how shall I regale ! Can any taste this drink divine, And then compare rum, brandy, wine, Or aught with nappy Ale?

Inspired by thee, the warrior fights, The lover wooes, the poet writes And pens the pleasing tale; And still in Britain’s isle confest, Nought animates the patriot’s breast Like generous nappy Ale.

High church and low oft raise a strife And oft endanger limb and life, Each studious to prevail: Yet Whig and Tory, opposite In all things else, do both unite In praise of nappy Ale.

Inspired by thee, shall Crispin sing Or talk of freedom, church and king, And balance Europe’s scale: {440} While his rich landlord lays out schemes Of wealth in golden South-Sea dreams, The effects of nappy Ale.

Ev’n while these stanzas I indite, The bar-bells’ grateful sounds invite Where joy can never fail. Adieu, my Muse ! adieu, I haste To gratify my longing taste With copious draughts of Ale.

+ The + End +

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