Part IV.
ENGLAND.
CHAPTER I.
THE GROWTH OF THE LICENSING SYSTEM.
The English are often said to be the most drunken among civilised nations; but, like many other constantly repeated statements, this is not correct. Denmark, Belgium and Russia certainly take the precedence of us in this matter; and it is an open question if alcoholism is not doing at least as much harm in northern and central France and Switzerland, as in the British Isles. The casual visitor to our lively neighbour sees but little open intoxication, and consequently assumes that France is a sober country. But those who have gone beneath the surface, and examined the results as recorded in the statistics of prisons and asylums, know that intemperance is rapidly becoming a national plague there.
While we may not be the worst offenders in this respect, it is yet undoubted that alcoholism is the greatest source of social misery in our land. Theorists may quarrel among themselves as to the exact proportion of poverty and crime produced by intemperance; but no thinking man who is not altogether shut out from association with his fellows can doubt the awful ravages it is producing. We do not require to have it proved to us by figures; we only need to open our eyes and to use such brain power as we may possess to have the proof forced on us. Among the fashionable rich, among the idle women of upper middle-class families, as well as in our slum population, intemperance is doing a work of destruction before which the results of the most fatal diseases seem hardly worth notice.
Most of us would gladly be optimists on this subject, if hard facts would only let us; but it is useless to indulge in an idle optimism, which suffers us to do nothing when the need of our services is greatest. It is accepted by many as an undeniable fact that we are steadily becoming a more sober people; but, unfortunately, statistics do not bear out this view. In some ways temperance has made great advances. Drunkenness is no longer looked upon as an amiable weakness, but as a serious offence against society and against oneself. The days of the three-bottle men are over, let us hope never to return; and the incessant drinking among friends that was common not many years ago is now little seen. Over one-sixth of the people have entirely abandoned the use of strong drink; everywhere active temperance societies are working hard to promote sobriety; the conditions of life have become infinitely brighter and easier for the great mass of wage earners; education has become universal, and the sale of alcohol has been placed under greater restrictions. Yet, notwithstanding all this, the drink trade was never so strong as it is to-day. Within fifty years the amount spent on liquor has almost doubled; though the police rarely arrest a drunken person except when outrageously disorderly, nearly 200,000 men and women are brought before the magistrates each year for intoxication;[9] and the number of deaths caused through inebriety cannot be estimated at a lower figure than 40,000 a year.
The Saxon chronicles tell how Edgar the Peaceable, acting on the advice of Archbishop Dunstan, determined to do something to check that drunkenness which was, the same a thousand years ago as to-day, all too prevalent on this island. He reduced the number of ale houses to one in each village, and had pegs put in the drinking cup to mark the amount that any person might consume at one draught. These drinking cups held about a couple of quarts each; and, if tradition speaks truly, it was no uncommon thing for men to finish up the whole of this quantity without once taking their lips from the vessel. By the law of Edgar, eight pegs were placed in each cup, and heavy penalties were provided for any person who dared to drink further than from one peg to another at a time. Edgar’s efforts were not crowned with much success. The law restricting the number of public-houses was not long observed; and the draught limit led, in the end, to an increase in the evil it was designed to check.