ENGLAND FROM THE REFORMATION TO THE PRESENT DAY.
Before entering upon the consideration of the drinking habits of the
English in Protestant times, it will only be fair and impartial to state
the plea which has been urged in favour of the mediæval taverns; and
we have the less hesitation in so doing, inasmuch as the justification
for their existence on the grounds advanced no longer holds good in the
present day. The village tavern, it is said, was not what it is to-day—a
resort for the idle and dissolute; it was the “public-house,” where
men of all ranks met together and enjoyed each other’s society—where,
indeed, distinctions between the hall, castle, and the cottage were for
the time obliterated. By some writers it is thought that the clergy
themselves did not absolutely discountenance taverns for the laity,
especially after the “ales” and similar meetings had been removed to the
places called “church-houses” from within the precincts of the churches
themselves. “When, therefore, the bishops ordered the clergy to expend
less time in alehouses,” says one author, “it is not to be inferred that
the bishops regarded these places as necessarily vicious and scandalous;
the fair inference from the episcopal injunction being that the chiefs
of the Church wished to impress upon the subordinate priests that the
obligations of the clerical office required them to exercise forbearance
with respect to social enjoyments.”[261] That this statement is in the
main accurate was shown in our last chapter, and it is confirmed by a
reference to the canons and injunctions of the Church. For example:
“Canon 30.—A priest should not drink in taverns _like laymen_.”[262]
Again, “But we do not comprise in this prohibition strangers who are
travelling, and those who come together in fairs or markets, although
they meet in taverns.”[263] And, “They (priests) are forbidden to enter
taverns for drinking, unless they are on a journey, or to take part in
drinking assemblies,” &c.[264]
As to the statement that various ranks of society met in the tavern for
social converse, those who hold that to be the case might have added that
the extension of national liberty was in part due to the opportunities
which were afforded for discussion in such places of resort. Nay,
although we have said that their continued existence can no longer
be justified on the old grounds in our time, yet it is impossible to
overlook the fact that there are even now exceptional instances where the
“public-house” is the only place which affords sufficient accommodation
for meetings of any considerable magnitude. That was, no doubt, much more
generally the case in the Middle Ages, when there were no assembly-rooms,
no public halls, no schoolhouses, nor any other buildings of a like
character.
It is a matter of history that at the period of the Reformation the
court of England was one of the most dissolute in Europe, and in the
reign of Henry VIII. it was held in bad repute even amongst the Germans,
drunken as they confess themselves to have been. A quaint story is told,
upon what appears to be good authority, how Henry himself managed to
make an envoy of the German court, who belonged to one of the orders of
temperance, violate his pledge, and how he then assured him that if his
master would only visit England, he would not lack boon-companions.[265]
Nor was the intoxication confined to men only. It is said that in the
time of James I. the revels instituted by the Queen were frequently
disgraced by the drunkenness of the court ladies; and one of the guests
at an entertainment given by the Earl of Salisbury in honour of the visit
of King Christian of Denmark wrote a letter from which the following is
an extract:—
“Those whom I never could get to taste good liquor now follow
the fashion and wallow in beastly delights. The ladies abandon
sobriety, and are seen to roll about in intoxication. After
dinner, the representation of Solomon his temple, and the
coming of the Queen of Sheba was made, or, as I may better
say, was meant to have been made.... The lady who did play
the queen’s part did carry most precious gifts to both their
majesties, but forgetting the steppes arising to the canopy,
overset her caskets in his Danish Majesty’s lap, and fell at
his feet, though I rather think it was on his face. Much was
the hurry and confusion,—cloths and napkins were at hand to
make all clean. His Majesty then got up, and would dance with
the Queen of Sheba, but he fell down and humbled himself before
her, and was carried to his inner chamber, and laid on a bed of
state, which was not a little defiled with the presents of the
queen.... The entertainment and show went forward, and most of
the presenters went backward or fell down, wine did so occupy
their upper chambers. Now did appear in rich dress Hope, Faith,
and Charity. Hope did assay to speak, but wine did render her
endeavours so feeble that she withdrew. Faith was then alone.
For I am certain she was not joyned with good works, and left
the court in a staggering condition. Charity came to the King’s
feet, and seemed to cover the multitude of sins her sisters
had committed; in some sort she made obeysance and brought
gifts.... She then returned to Hope and Faith, who were ...”
But we must conclude in more refined phraseology than that used by the
writer ... who were in the hall engaged in operations inconsistent with
the healthy and sober condition in which ladies should be at a royal
entertainment.[266]
We will, however, not dwell upon the drinking habits of the middle and
lower classes prior to the Commonwealth. What change there was in their
condition was due to the action of the Puritans, who, both before and
during the civil war, presented a marked contrast to the Cavaliers or
Royalists. The character and conduct of the two parties may be studied
in the writings of historians of the time, as well as in those of modern
authors, and notably in the pages of Macaulay and Walter Scott.[267] The
Puritans were grave in their demeanour, sober in their habits, modest
and plain in their speech and attire. By these characteristics they
desired to be known. The Cavaliers swore, drank, affected an air of
gallantry towards the female sex, with whom their relations were of the
loosest, and in everything they sought to avoid what they called the
prudery and hypocrisy of the Roundheads. When the latter obtained the
ascendancy, they set about executing the most drastic reforms throughout
the land. Maypoles were cut down in various parts of the country, and
all the amusements of the period, such as theatrical performances,
entertainments on the village green and at fairs, bowls, horseracing, and
bearbaiting, were either absolutely forbidden or strongly denounced and
discountenanced. But what gave greater dissatisfaction than any other of
their proceedings was the suppression of Christmas festivities; and when,
in 1644, the Long Parliament gave orders that the 25th December should
be observed as a day of prayer and fasting, that act was considered such
an infringement of the public liberties, that it was almost universally
resisted, and in many places collisions took place between the populace
and the local authorities.
These extreme measures of repression on the part of the Puritans led
to the result which might be anticipated. They gave courage to those
who were anxious for the return of royalty, and reconciled many to its
reinstatement who would otherwise have struggled for the maintenance
of republican institutions; and when Charles II. was once more safely
enthroned, there followed a reaction in morals which has left to that
period the unenviable notoriety of being the most corrupt and dissolute
in the whole history of our country. Debauchery and drunkenness prevailed
in almost every rank of society, but chiefly amongst the higher and
middle classes. The King set the example, and history abounds with tales
of the debauchery of the court. We are told that when William, Prince of
Orange, came over to visit his intended, “one night at a supper given by
the Duke of Buckingham, the King made him (the Prince) drink very hard.
The heavy Dutchman was naturally averse to it, but being once entered,
was the most frolicsome of the company; and now the mind took him to
break the windows of the chambers of the maids of honour, and he had got
into their apartments had they not been timely rescued. His mistress”
(the princess, afterwards Queen Mary), “I suppose,” adds the narrator,
“did not like him the worse for such a notable indication of his
vigour.”[268] Another well-known story is related of the same monarch.
On one occasion, when he was dining with the Lord Mayor, Sir Robert
Viner, and the guests as well as his lordship had imbibed more than was
consistent with propriety in the presence of their sovereign, the latter
intimated to his suite his intention to withdraw; and he had succeeded in
making his escape from the banqueting hall, when he was hastily pursued
by the Lord Mayor, who caught hold of his robe, exclaiming, “Sir, you
shall stay and take t’other bottle.” The airy monarch looked kindly at
him over his shoulder, and with a smile and graceful air repeated this
line of the old song, “He that is drunk is as great as a king,” and with
this compliment to his host, he immediately returned and “took t’other
bottle.”
These Lord Mayors’ banquets are deserving of a passing notice. One of
them, given in 1663, is described by Pepys. It was served at one o’clock,
and a bill of fare was placed with every salt cellar, whilst at the end
of each table was a list of “persons proper” there to be seated. Pepys
was placed at the merchant-strangers’ table, “where ten good dishes to
a mess, with plenty of wine of all sorts.” Napkins and knives were,
however, only supplied at the Mayor’s table to him and the Lords of
the Privy Council, and Pepys complains bitterly that he and those who
were seated with him had no napkins nor change of trenchers, and had
to drink out of earthen pitchers. He, however, took his spoon and fork
away with him, as was customary in those days with guests invited to
entertainments. The dinner, he says, was provided by the Mayor and two
sheriffs for the time being, and the whole cost was from £700 to £800. We
are not told what wines were drunk, but a list of those which were served
at a similar banquet on Lord Mayor’s Day, 1782,[269] may be of interest.
It will give some idea of the quantity and character of the drinks
consumed at such entertainments:—
Port, 438 bottles.
Lisbon, 220 ”
Madeira, 90 ”
Claret, 168 ”
Champagne, 143 ”
Burgundy, 116 ”
Malmsey or sack, 4 ”
Brandy, 4 ”
Hock, 66 ”
----
Grand total, 1249 bottles.
From that time to the present there has not been any very material change
in the descriptions of the wines which are drunk at Lord Mayors’ feasts,
except that the heavier wines have been to some extent displaced by
those of a lighter description. Thus, at various banquets which were
given between 1860 and 1876, the following descriptions were consumed on
Lord Mayor’s Day:—Various kinds of port, sherry, madeira, hock, claret,
champagne, and moselle. In other respects great changes have, however,
taken place at these feasts. Earthenware drinking vessels are no longer
in vogue, “trenchers” are changed, napkins and knives are not wanting,
and guests do not (with the knowledge of their host) walk off with their
spoons and forks!
But to resume. Hard-drinking was not confined to kings and Lord Mayors,
and one of the practices amongst all classes of society which had the
effect of stimulating excess, and of which we are not yet completely rid,
was the drinking of healths. A French writer who visited England about
the close of the seventeenth century, and who described the ludicrous
grimaces which accompanied the ceremony, says that “whilst in France the
custom had disappeared from polite society, any one in England who drank
at table without doing so to the health of some person present would be
considered as drinking on the sly, and that it would be regarded as an
act of incivility.”[270]
How rapidly the indulgence in intoxicating drink increased from the
Commonwealth to the eighteenth century we are able to learn from the
poets and moralists of the time, as well as from the graphic pictures
of life which have been bequeathed to us by the pencil of Hogarth; but
before reverting to the oft-told tale, we have to speak of a satisfactory
phase in the drinking customs of the country, which commenced at the
epoch under consideration, and which is happily still in steady progress.
We mean the introduction into England of those non-alcoholic beverages
which we find to have exercised so potent and beneficial an influence
upon the morals of German society. Tea was first imported into England
from the Netherlands in 1666 by Lords Arundel and Ossory, but it was
then only used medicinally, its price (about 60s. per lb.) being for a
long time a virtual prohibition against its use as a beverage. Coffee
was, however, a much more popular article of consumption. The first
coffee-house is said to have been opened in Paris in 1643; and either in
1652 or 1657 (writers differ as to the date) the first was established
in London. Coffee was soon served in taverns along with wine, beer, and
tobacco, and although it met with opposition from the satirical writers
of the day, it was drunk by men of every class, from the labourers and
apprentices to the members of the Privy Council, and it interfered
considerably with the consumption of alcoholic drinks. There were ere
long coffee-houses for all ranks of society, such as the “Grecian” in
Threadneedle Street, said to have been the first opened, where noblemen
and the committee of the Royal Society met, and many others of more
modest pretensions, for the accommodation of merchants, tradesmen, and
the labouring classes.
The character of the clubs, too, was changed by the introduction of tea
and coffee and chocolate. Those institutions had existed from the reign
of Elizabeth, the first having been the “Mermaid” in Friday Street,
founded by Sir Walter Raleigh; and the other leading men connected with
it were Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, Francis Beaumont, and John Fletcher. Ben
Jonson founded a club which met at the “Devil” Tavern between Temple
Bar and the Temple Gates, for which he wrote a code of rules in Latin
verse called “Leges Conviviales.”[271] The clubs found no favour with the
Puritans, who endeavoured to abolish them; whilst in Charles II.’s time
the coffee-houses were so inconvenient to royalty, that an attempt was
made to suppress them. The latter incident occurred in 1675, when on the
29th December a royal proclamation ordered them to be closed, “because in
such houses, and by the meeting of disaffected persons in them, divers
false, malicious, and scandalous reports were devised and spread abroad,
to the defamation of His Majesty’s Government, and the disturbance of the
peace of the realm.” The dissatisfaction caused by this proceeding was,
however, so great that the proclamation was soon withdrawn.
With the clubs and coffee-houses some of the greatest English names
are associated. At Will’s Coffee-house, in Bow Street, Dryden reigned
supreme; at Button’s, in Great Russell Street, Addison was the presiding
genius. Addison, by the way, moralist as he was, was addicted to
something much stronger than coffee; he entered largely into, if he did
not lead, the dissipation of his day. Samuel Johnson, as is well known,
was quite an enthusiast in the matter of clubs and taverns. His principal
haunt was the “Turk’s Head” in Gerard Street, where the Literary Club
met, including, amongst others, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Garrick (who also
frequented the Bedford in Covent Garden, along with Foote, Quin, and
others), Oliver Goldsmith, Burke, and Sheridan. Johnson also went to
the Essex Club in Essex Street, and the King’s Head beefsteak house.
Our space will not allow us to enumerate the various clubs of the
time, but in order to show what extension had been given to the system
in later days, we may add that in 1801 there was a club called “The
King of Clubs,” which met at the “Crown and Anchor” in the Strand, and
reckoned among its members Lord Holland, the Marquis of Lansdowne, Lord
Abinger, Lord Erskine, and Samuel Rogers. Then, at the opposite end of
the social scale, there were the “Bird Fanciers,” who met at a pothouse
in Rosemary Lane; the “Flat Cap,” where market-women assembled, and
“young gentlemen and gallants paid their court to those ladies with burnt
brandy and formidable mugs of porter;” the “Thieves,” at the Half-Moon in
the Old Bailey; the “Lying Club,” where whoever told the truth between
six and ten was fined a gallon of wine; the “Bold Bucks,” who drove the
neighbourhood of St. Mary-le-Strand crazy with bands of music during the
performance of divine service, and then sat down to feast on “Holy Ghost
Pie;” and the “Sword Clubs,” whose members took possession of the town
after supper, “holding their swords against every man, whilst every man’s
sword was held against them.”[272]
As this notice of the clubs of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
may possibly find its way to posterity, it is but just to add regarding
those of the present day that they are amongst the noblest institutions
of our country. This is certainly not the place to expatiate upon their
services to the state, and it must suffice to say that they are the
centres of political and intellectual activity. All that we have to note
concerning them in relation to our subject is, that they are certainly
not conducted on teetotal principles. In most of them the wines are
selected by a committee of connoisseurs, and one, in which the “feast
of reason and the flow of soul” are supposed to predominate, manages to
expend £2000 annually in wines and spirits. A well-known French writer
has been at the trouble to ascertain what quantity of wine is usually
consumed at our metropolitan clubs, and he sets it down at a pint per
diem for each member.[273]
The character of the clubs and taverns in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries demonstrates pretty plainly what was the condition of society
at the time; and it could hardly have been worse than it was. Drunkenness
and debauchery, accompanied by lawlessness and violence, marked the age.
People got drunk at private tables, and quarrelled and fought duels
afterwards. Suppers were followed by sallies into the streets and attacks
upon the citizens, which often resulted in murder and mutilations,
and the newspapers of the last century contain stories of license and
depravity which it is difficult to believe even after reading our
own police reports or the columns filled with casualties and crimes.
For whilst to-day such matters are related of the lower orders, then
they characterised the so-called respectable classes of society.[274]
As to the poorer classes, they had fallen a prey to a new demon of
intoxication—gin—which, along with other spirituous liquors, was fast
taking the place of less inebriating beverages, such as ale, porter, and
cider.
Although the period of the discovery of distillation is unknown, it
is believed to have been not later than about the seventh century of
our era. At that time it was described by Geber, supposed to have been
an Arab; but his nationality and the precise time at which he wrote,
are also enveloped in doubt.[275] The same uncertainty applies to the
introduction or discovery of distillation in England. Friar Bacon, who
lived in the thirteenth century, is believed to have been acquainted
with the process, and “spirits of wine” were certainly known to
Raymond Tully, who wrote a book called “Testamentum Novissimum” on the
preparation of alcohol in the same century.[276] The perfect chemical
separation of alcohol was, however, not effected until the following
century (about 1300), by Arnauld de Villeneuve, a famous physician
residing in Montpellier, and its analysis was first performed by Th.
de la Saussure.[277] In 1430 arrack was first introduced into England
from Genoa,[278] and from that time forward the importation and home
manufacture of spirituous liquors continued to increase.
In order that the reader may form some idea of the effect which the
substitution of spirituous liquors for other intoxicating beverages would
have upon the drinking habits of the nation, we append the following
tabular statement of the relative proportions of alcohol contained in
some of the chief European drinks of present and past times:[279]—
Beverage. Percentage of alcohol.
German beer, From 1.9 to 4.62
Cider, ” 5.4 ” 7.4
Ale and porter, ” 5.4 ” 8.5
Very strong ale, ” 10.5 ” 12.4
Moselle and Rhine wines, ” 7.5 ” 9.5
Claret, ” 8.0 ” 9.0
Champagne, ” 11.5 ” 14.1
Sherry, ” 15.4 ” 16.0
Port, ” 15.0 ” 20.7
Madeira, ” 19.0 ” 19.8
Marsala, ” 19.9 ” 20.0
Gin (London), ” 31.73 ...
Geneva spirit, ” 49.4 ...
Brandy, ” 50.4 ” 53.6
Whisky, ” 59.2 ” 59.4
Rum, ” 72.7 ” 77.1
And proof spirit consists of 49.2 per cent. of alcohol and 50.98 of water.
Thus it will be seen that a man might drink without any greater effect
ten times as much of the old as he could of the new beverages, and when
we come to inquire how much of these were consumed, we shall have no
difficulty in understanding what a terrible influence they exercised upon
the morals of the age.
In the year 1694, with an estimated population of about 5,800,000 souls,
the quantity of British spirits upon which duty was charged in England
was, according to one author, 810,096 gallons;[280] according to another,
754,300 gallons.[281] (The discrepancy is immaterial for our purpose.)
But forty-two years later—in 1736, the _annus mirabilis_ in the history
of drink—although the population had only increased to 6,200,000, the
consumption of spirits had risen to 6,116,473 gallons, or nearly a gallon
per head of the inhabitants.
The reason why we have called 1736 the _annus mirabilis_ in the history
of drink is because it was on the 29th September of that year that the
“Gin Act” came into operation, and the passing of that Act was considered
a necessity consequent upon the awful prevalence of drunkenness in all
classes of society.
How great was the debauchery of the age may be seen, not alone from the
statistics here given, but it may be read in the pages of contemporary
history. Those who have perused accounts of the parliamentary debates,
or the published notices and correspondence of the time, know into what
a deplorable condition the lower and middle classes were fallen, and
how openly they were tempted to still lower depths of depravity. That
announcements were hung out before the gin-shops informing passers-by
that they could get drunk for a penny, and dead drunk for twopence,
and that when they were in the desired state, clean straw would be
gratuitously provided for them in convenient cellars, has become a matter
of history.[282] So also the fact that the inducements to drink which
were so generously offered were as readily accepted, and the state of the
city of London became so dangerous and disgraceful, that at length the
Grand Jury of Middlesex made a presentment asking the Legislature for
repressive measures. It was then that Sir Joseph Jekyll introduced and
carried through Parliament the famous “Gin Act,” of which the following
is a copy:—
“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 license for that purpose within ten days at least
before they sell or retail the same; for which they shall pay
down £50, to be renewed ten days before the year expires,
paying the like sum, and in case of neglect to forfeit £100,
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 20s. 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.”
This Act remained nominally in operation for seven years, the first
result being an apparent falling off in the consumption of spirits to the
extent of nearly 2,000,000 gallons; for whilst, as already stated, the
quantity on which duty was paid in the year 1736 was 6,116,473 gallons,
that in 1737 was 4,250,399 gallons. The consumption, however, soon rose
again; and when, in the year 1743, the “Gin Act” was repealed, it had
risen to 8,203,430 gallons.
In the meantime the remedy had proved worse than the disease. Gin riots;
false information given by men who made it their profession; violence
towards, and even the murder of, such informers; the illicit distillation
and sale of spirits under various names all over the country;—these
were the fruits of this extreme legislation, and long before the Act
was repealed it had ceased to be operative. When its repeal (which was
opposed by the bishops) was being discussed in the House of peers, one
noble lord stated that for several years the Act had been a dead letter,
and that the pathways of London were obstructed by men who were openly
selling spirits to the populace, and by those who had drunk them until
they were unable to move. But there is an important circumstance in
connection with this experiment which is well worthy of being noticed.
Whilst the sudden and extreme measure had no permanent effect upon the
moral disease which it was intended to cure, but called into action evils
which had not previously existed, yet impediments of a less violent and
conspicuous character, which were unintentionally thrown in the way of
excessive drinking at a subsequent period, seem to have proved more
efficacious. For we find that when the duty was afterwards raised from
3d. to 1s. per gallon, the consumption steadily diminished, until, in
1758, it had fallen to 1,849,370 gallons, and it continued to stand
at 2,000,000 gallons from 1762 to 1780, after the duty had been still
further raised to 2s. 6d. per gallon.[283]
For a long time after the repeal of the “Gin Act,” there is very little
improvement to be noticed in the drinking habits of the English people.
Moralists, poets, and some of the clergy, were vigorous in their
denunciations of the national vice, which, then more them at any other
period, seems to have been a fruitful source of crime and villainy. Men
of good family and station, who had ruined themselves with drinking and
gambling, did not, as to-day, seek relief in the insolvency court or
the colonies, but, armed with pistol and blunderbuss, they endeavoured
to retrieve their broken fortunes on the highway. The metropolis was
the scene of nightly robberies, whilst the neighbouring roads and
commons were beset with footpads and mounted highwaymen, so that, as a
contemporary (Bishop Benson) wrote, there was “not only no safety of
living in this town, but scarcely any in the country now, robbery and
murther are grown so frequent. Our people are now become, what they
never before were, cruel and inhuman. Those accursed spirituous liquors,
which, to the shame of our Government, are so easily to be had, and in
such quantities drunk, have changed the very nature of our people; and
they will, if continued to be drunk, destroy the very race of people
themselves.”[284]
That this was no exaggerated picture of society at that time we have
ample testimony in the literature extending over a great part of the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. One of the chief aims of the
essayists in such papers as the “Spectator” was “to recover society out
of that desperate state of vice and folly into which the age had fallen;”
and Addison thus describes the typical drunkard of his time:—
“I was only the other day with honest Will Funnell, the West
Saxon, who was reckoning up how much liquor had passed through
him in the last twenty years of his life, which, according to
computation, amounted to twenty-three hogsheads of october,
four tuns of port, half a kilderkin of small beer, nineteen
barrels of cider, and three glasses of champagne, besides which
he had assisted at four hundred bowls of punch, not to mention
sips, drams, and whets without number. I question not but every
reader’s memory will suggest to him several ambitious young men
who are as vain in this particular as Will Funnell, and can
boast of as glorious exploits.”
If _our_ readers will kindly substitute “bitter” for “october,” “sherry”
for “port,” and, leaving all the other drinks as they stand, will throw
in a few dozen cases of champagne, and brandy and soda _ad libitum_,
we shall have no hesitation in echoing Addison’s concluding sentence,
inasmuch as it will obviate the necessity for any further reference to
the habits of intemperance which obtain amongst a large circle of fast
young gentlemen of our own time!
Of the taverns we have already spoken, and without adopting to the
fullest extent the statement which has been made by various historians,
that even noble ladies were in the habit of largely patronising such
places, we need not hesitate to believe that they were more extensively
used by the upper classes than they are at present. But they were then,
as now, the ruin of those who visited them:—
“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.
...
Surcharged with the venom, some walk forth erect,
Apparently baffling its deadly effect;
But, sooner or later, the reckoning arrives,
And ninety-nine perish for one who survives.”[285]
Nor was Scotland a whit better. Here is a picture of the High Street of
Edinburgh during the last century:—
“Next to the neighbouring tavern all retired,
And draughts of wine their various thoughts inspired;
O’er draughts of wine the beau would moan his love,
O’er draughts of wine the cit his bargain drove;
O’er draughts of wine the writer penned his will,
And legal wisdom counselled—o’er a gill.”[286]
Of Ireland we can only add, that from an early period both clergy and
laity drank inordinately. They with ourselves began to imbibe spirits, we
are told, whilst some other nations were still content with less potent
liquors:—
“The Russ drinks quass, Dutch Lubeck beer,
And that is strong and mighty;
The Briton[287] he metheghlin quaffs,
The Irish aqua vitæ;
The French affect the Orleans grape,
The Spaniard tastes his sherry;
The English none of these can ’scape,
But he with all makes merry.”[288]
Of the Irish clergy in the twelfth century we have already spoken, and
Archbishop Plunkett says of them in his day:[289]—
“Whilst visiting six dioceses of this province, I applied
myself especially to root out the cursed vice of drunkenness,
which is the parent and nurse of all scandals and contentions.
I commanded also, under penalty of privation of benefite, that
no priest should frequent public-houses or drink whisky, &c.
Indeed, I have derived great fruit from this order, and as it
is of little use to teach without practising, I myself never
drink at meals(!).... Give me an Irish priest without this
vice, and he is assuredly a saint.”
Other writers have confirmed this account of the Irish clergy;[290] and
as to the laity, their lavish hospitality, whilst it did honour to their
hearts, was the cause of great improvidence and self-indulgence. “Nine
gentlemen in ten in Ireland,” wrote Chesterfield, “are impoverished by
the great quantity of claret which, from mistaken notions of hospitality,
they think it necessary to be drunk in their houses.” Another writer
of the eighteenth century says, “Would not a Frenchman give a shrug at
finding in every little inn Bordeaux claret and Nantz brandy, though in
all likelihood not a morsel of Irish bread.”[291]
That there followed in the train of drunkenness all the evils and
diseases of which it is still the fruitful source, it may readily be
conceived. This has been shown by William Hogarth in his famous pictures
of life in his day,[292] and there is a poem of John Gay, written about
the same time, which leaves no doubt upon the subject.
Death, sitting on his throne, declares his intention to name his prime
minister, and each disorder puts forth his claim to the office. Fever,
gout, an unnameable disease, consumption, plague:—
“All spoke their claim, and hoped the wand—
Now expectation hushed the band,
When thus the monarch from the throne:
‘Merit was ever modest known.
What! no physician speak his right?
None here, but fees their toils requite.
Let then Intemperance take the wand.
You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest
(Whom wary men as foes detest),
Forego your claim; 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.’”[293]
Much more might be written concerning the drinking habits of our
countrymen in post-Reformation times; but if we mistake not, the reader
will be better pleased that we should now draw this chapter to its
close. For the changes which took place during the first half of this
century may be briefly summed up by saying, that there was a gradual
improvement amongst the upper and middle classes. Leaving the curious
reader, therefore, to study the pictures of the three-bottle squire, and
his friend the fox-hunting parson, by the light of the literature of this
century, aided, it may be, by the memory of those who are still alive to
relate their own experiences, we shall pass on to the consideration of
drink as we find it to-day, and of those varied efforts which are being
made for the purpose of diminishing the evils of intemperance.