Collectanea de Diversis Rebus: Addresses and Papers. Eade Peter

sweeping suggestion is the well-known one, which ignores every other consideration but the evil effects of the excessive use of alcohol, and proposes to get rid of drunkenness by rendering it impossible to get the drink. Legislation tending to this end was tried, as is well known, in America, under the title of the Maine Liquor Law, but its success has not been such as to induce other localities to follow the example. Again, systems of partial restriction, such as are known as the Gothenburg system, have been tried, or proposed, in the form of a Permissive Bill, such as has been advocated by Sir Wilfrid Lawson; but neither of these have commended themselves to the judgment of mankind as being the right solution of this question. The fact is social man and mankind constitute a large question. Over indulgence is not limited to the cravings of the stomach. Vice would not be eradicated by the simple removal of beer, however much assisted by it, and man would not be at once raised to the desired moral level were public-houses at once abolished. And so out of this conviction have arisen the various efforts which have been made, and are being persistently made, to attain, or assist in attaining, the wished-for results by more gradually acting moral means. These means, or aids to temperance, as I would call them, embrace several distinct influences, all of which such a temperance society as this is calculated to exert. They consist, primarily, in diffusing among the population, by meetings, by speeches, and by writings, a thorough knowledge of the personal evil which such habits necessarily and inevitably produce; (1) By bringing to bear the influence which friends and neighbours, so instructed, can exercise; (2) By forming public opinion and rendering it so forcible that the general mass of individuals must needs bow to its dictates; and, lastly, by these and all other assisting means, endeavouring to strengthen the personal control of self, and to make the individual himself contribute entirely to, not only his own good, but, by his improved example, to that of his neighbours and the community at large. I trust that through the force of public opinion it will soon be thought by the working classes as vulgar and as low to get intoxicated, as it now is by those with more advantages of means and information.

      Much has been said and written about the influence which education is likely to exert in the future upon the habits of the people. There can be no doubt, I think, that the influence which will be gradually so exercised will be very great. A mind trained to better things will abhor and revolt at the gross pleasure which it would otherwise have tolerated or enjoyed. And we all (I am sure) rejoice to see that education is being spread abroad in our land, and that the rising generation will all, in greater or less degree, have their minds trained sufficiently to prevent their slumbering in the lowest abysses of non-development, and to awaken them, and to lead them to the knowledge at least that there are better enjoyments in the human body and the human mind than the false and injurious excitement of incessant alcoholic stimulation. But, unfortunately, education is like a tree. It takes a long time for its development, and the circumstances of the time are too urgent to wait in dependence alone upon this agency. For all the while that we are talking, the world is living and acting, and living under such conditions that, if present customs are to be changed, others and better ones must be found and provided in substitution for them.

      There is a population to deal with, a people largely and often exhaustively occupied during the day, and so occupied, that a large portion of it requires some relaxation in the evening, after the hours of toil shall have passed away. In the country districts the difficulty is less; but in the crowded districts of our large towns, where often many houses, without any surroundings, exist, and these, when present, often not the most wholesome or commodious, some means of passing the evening in reasonable recreation are absolutely necessary. The richer classes even, in large towns and cities, have felt the need of their clubs and meeting places, and gradually, also, working-men have followed this example, and have, in many places, set up their clubs of various kinds. If anyone would like to know the demand that exists for evening places of resort, I would ask him to observe the throngs of people who pour out of the public-houses on their closing at the hour of eleven at night. It is not to be supposed that all the frequenters of these houses of entertainment are drunkards, are even lovers of strong drink, although, from the constitution of these houses, they must necessarily drink to pay for the accommodation they receive; but they use them as clubs, as the only places open to them in which they can spend their evenings, and in which they find the light, the warmth, the company, the newspapers, the interchange of speech, which they crave, and which are there alone obtainable. This view of the uses to which the public-house parlour is applied, is confirmed by observation of what happens when a well-appointed circus or other similar place of outdoor amusement is located in such a town as Norwich. For although no drink, good or bad, is sold in the building, yet it may be seen for weeks together to be nightly thronged by a company of one, or, perhaps, two thousand people.

      Acting upon this idea, and on this principle, there have now been established in many places public-houses without those elements which render them undesirable. The Café Company’s houses, like to that recently opened in Norwich (and to which, I am sure, we all wish good speed), in which provision is made for amusement, for food, and for non-intoxicating drinks, are of this class, and so are the establishments of the London Coffee Public-house Association, and the Coffee Tavern Company, and others. But a recent writer (Mr. Moggridge, Macmillan, October, 1878) goes much further, and suggests the trial of the plan of retaining the present public houses, while keeping their attractive features, throwing the sale of drink so far into the background that it shall be the least prominent and important part of the establishment.

      At present, of course, the public-houses exist only or chiefly in the sale of fermented liquors, and not for the benefit of the frequenter, whose primary object is often, at least at first, the enjoyment of the public parlour and its society. The writer above mentioned proposes, at least for a time, to convert them into veritable clubs, where fermented drinks can certainly be obtained, but where they shall by no means be the great and prominent part of the refreshment provided. He thinks that then it might be possible gradually to wean a large portion of their frequenters from their drinking habits, and gradually also to introduce a better and more harmless system than now prevails. Whether or not such a scheme as this is practicable, or even desirable, it appears certain that in any attempt to close the present houses of public resort, other and more suitable ones must be provided.

      Before quitting this part of the subject, I would desire to call attention to the laudable attempts already made in two adjoining parishes to furnish a sort of evening club room for the use of the poorer parishioners. In one of these parishes, I believe, the mission room is open for use every evening, and in the other a commencement has been made by opening the schoolroom on Saturday evenings. For these, newspapers, or reasonable games, are essential, and it is probable (as man is both a hungry and thirsty animal) that if they are to be permanently successful both food and harmless drinks must be obtainable; but whether tea and coffee will be sufficient, or whether some of the various unfermented drinks are required, which are described in a little book called, “A Book of One Hundred Beverages,” I must not now stay to consider.

      In England and countries of similar climate, the recreation difficulty is much greater than in more favoured countries, where the climate, in a larger portion of the year, admits of the evening hours being passed in the open air. Here, for months together, the evenings’ relaxation must needs be within doors, and in many towns there is literally no place of indoor resort but the public-house, and, perhaps, the theatre.

      A great aid to temperance will doubtless be given when, under the operation of the Artisans’ Dwelling Act, or other similar legislation, the character of the worst localities of our towns improves. It is notorious that the narrower the streets, the more crowded the courts, and the worse the houses, the more do gin-palaces flourish, and the more does the population give itself up to the artificial stimulus of fermented liquors. And the reason is not far to seek, for if there be an absence of all comfort at home; if the house be small, and crowded, and dirty; if the water be bad, and perhaps unsuited for drinking; if there be no bit of garden in which to lounge, and to grow a few things in which interest can be taken; if there be nothing in home to render this agreeable – then, as a matter of course, recourse is had to that neighbouring house where nearly all these conditions are reversed, and dirt, and squalor, and crowding are exchanged for light, and brightness, and space.

      I have said that an English climate is less adapted than many others to out-of-doors’ recreations and amusements. Yet there is, even