The consumption of alcoholic beverages is nearly as old as civilization itself. Alcohol has played a major role in the history and folklore of every society.
Jessica Warner makes a persuasive case in Craze that the so-called gin craze in London in the early 18th century was the first modern drug crisis. And that the lessons from that period are relevant today.
Craze is a history of the introduction of cheap distilled alcoholic beverages to England in the early 1700s, and the effect it had on English life, culture, laws and social mores. It’s a serious topic, but it’s told with wit and even some humor. The book itself is divided into sections (“Acts”) and chapters, whose titles are reminiscent of those that would have been found in the literature of the age, such as “Act I, In which a new and bewitching liquor is introduced to an unwary nation.” Chapters, with titles such as “Strong Waters” and “A Whig and a Prig,” have epigraphs taken from poetry, songs or news accounts of the time.
But a popular history needs substance as well as style, and this book has it by the gallon. Although the core of the book is a social and political history of the various Gin Acts passed between 1729 and 1751, Warner also tells us about the social, economic and political factors that led up to the gin craze; gives us clear and concise biographies of the many political, legal and literary figures who played major roles the craze and efforts to suppress it; details how it was that women came to be major sellers and drinkers of gin; and explores the various social and political trends that rose and fell throughout the period.
The English working classes were used to drinking small beer, strong beer, ale and even wine, but when various factors combined to make distilled spirits available to them in the early 1700s, they didn’t know how to handle it. Drinking it by the pint the way they did beer, they quickly became extremely drunk; many died, and many more became addicted. Warner summarizes how this came about:
“…The Crown needed new revenues, and the landowners sitting in Parliament needed new markets for their surplus grain. To this extent the Crown and Parliament were prepared to … protect domestic distillers from foreign competition. … For their part, consumers now had disposable income to spend on gin, thanks in large part to the relative cheapness of foodstuffs in the first half of the eighteenth century.”
Warner delves into why reformers were so keen on stopping the trend, and draws fine parallels between the 18th and 20th centuries in terms of drug scares. And she gives a cogent analysis of the various laws that attempted to stem the problem, why they mostly failed, and why the situation played itself out over the course of about a half-century.
For the most part, it’s an entertaining read, with accounts from newspapers, broadsides and pamphlets of the period, and some startling historical details, such as that of the “puss and mew.” This was an early vending machine, a cabinet really, which stood on the street. When a customer in the know approached and said “puss,” the vender hidden in the cabinet responded with “mew,” opened a drawer into which the customer put money; the drawer then closed and reopened shortly with a glass of gin.
It’s that kind of glimpse into the life of the common people of the time that keeps the book interesting, and it’s the authoritative analysis that makes Craze an important text for anyone concerned with the current “War on Drugs.”
(Four Walls Eight Windows, 2002)
