page break

Moderate Drinking

Meeting in Exeter Hall.

A very important and influential meeting of the National Temperance League was held in Exeter Hall, on Wednesday evening, 7th February. Sir Henry Thompson, F.R.C.S., Surgeon-Extraordinary to the King of the Belgians, took the chair, and alter prayer had been offered by the Rev. Robert Harley, F.R.S., the Chairman, who was received with great applause, rose and said:

Ladies and Gentlemen,—I feel here that I hold a position in presence of this great assembly, as it appears to me, very much analogous to that which a preface or introduction holds in relation to a book, and in this case, I may certainly say, to a volume of rich and varied contents. (Cheers.)

If there were no such contents, there would certainly be on preface.

Now, I don't know whether you read the preface to a book. I always do: some people never do, but I think that it holds a useful and subordinate position to the volume which we wish to know something about, and it is only because I thought I might fill such a useful and subordinate position to-night that I accepted this post. You know when an author comes before the public it is his fust duty to say why a book is wanted at all, and that at the present day is a very useful thing to require of him—(a laugh)—and, secondly, not only why the book is wanted at all, but why it is wanted on that particular subject which he has chosen to indite. So here, in coming before this meeting, which, after all, is but a large written book which we ask you to listen to, we are entitled to tell you first of all why we hold a meeting at all, and, secondly, what is the express purpose of this one in particular. (Hear, hear.) Then, I think I may say that this meeting is called to-night because there are many who believe—and they do not wish to be dogmatic—that there is a great deal of erroneous belief current in society relative to the value of alcoholic and fermented liquors as articles of diet; and secondly, as far as I understand the scope of the meeting, it has to do especially with the question of declaring whether, and if so, to what extent, it is desirable to have alcoholic liquor for any portion of our dietary at all. Such a question as that raised only a few years ago would have excited very great opposition. (Hear, hear.) Nevertheless, there were some good page 3 and wise men who did raise that question, and I can certainly say that in my recollection the attitude towards such has been very greatly changed. (Hear, hear.) The views of the public now are very different from what they were in a period within my memory. I perfectly well remember as a boy in the country the time when every good host placed always sufficient liquor, and more than sufficient, before his guests at every dinner to carry them, as it was then said, under the table, and very often a good and agreeable guest did show his strong appreciation of the quality of his host's liquor by afterwards going there. (Laughter.) Now all this is changed. We find that this part of the drinking usages at least has disappeared, and I find from my own experience—and I come in contact with a great number of people—that if in conversation as to the necessity of drinking I make the slightest remark, that some quantity which is sometimes called "moderate," a word which it is impossible to define—I say, if I make a remark that that quantity is too much, the individual to whom I am speaking instantly replies to me by such a phrase as this: "I assure you, sir, I never was the worse for liquor in my life. I take my moderate amount of wine, or beer, or what not; but I assure you I was never the worse for liquor in my life."

Now it seems to me that this current statement brings us precisely to the question of the evening. (Hear, hear.) We ask—Is that so? Our friend says he takes his moderate amount of wine or beer, but he never was the worse for it in his life. Is that so? That is the point which we hope to determine—the question which we want to raise. It is that which we wish the public before all things to consider. We say we doubt whether in many cases—perhaps in any—it is really valuable in the dietary of healthy people, and we are not quite sure that for a great many it is not injurious.

But I wish to narrow the question a little further. We have no question to-night at all with drunken people. Their case requires no consideration of the kind we are giving to the other question to-night. The time has entirely passed when we need discuss the matter of drunkenness. When I say that we have on question with the drunkard, I designate by that term the man who occasionally allows his senses to be lost entirely, and whose reason has gone because he has been taking alcoholic liquor; I will take that to be the sign of drunkenness.

Nor, again, have we any question with another class—the class of people who are never seen drunk, but who take, morning, noon, and night, little sips of liquor, which perhaps do more damage to them than is done by the occasional outbreak of the other class. (Cheers.) In any assembly I could go into now I could rarely find an advocate for either one practice or the other.

But I shall venture to narrow our issue a little further. I speak of another class of persons with whom also we have no controversy whatever—another class for whom I have infinitely more respect than for either of the two preceding—the class of well-to-do good people, who like life and enjoy it (as why should they not?) and who include within their enjoyments the consumption of a considerable quantity of good wine daily. You know we must remember, especially in dealing with page 4 this subject, that we have two totally different classes of consumers to deal with, and the nature of the arguments, and the manner in which they are put forward, must differ widely for these different classes. (Hear, hear.) Thus there are certain people, to whom I have already referred, who swallow their dram whole, so to speak, as if they were glad to get rid of it, for the sake of the stimulation that follows. They have no liking or care for the thing they take so far as the palate is concerned. On the other hand, there is another class of men—cultivated men who move in the best society, and form a large part of it—who enjoy their wine, who sip it with gusto, whose fine senses keenly enjoy all that belongs to the bouquet of the liquor, and so on. Now, I say, such persons are to be dealt with in quite a different way, and we have no controversy with them, and on this ground, because they know, admit, and say, that in consequence of their indulgence they may possibly not be quite so long lived. They have a twinge in the back, or an attack of gout, or something or other from time to time, but they pay that price and are content to do so. Well, there is no disputing with tastes, let them have their bargain. (Cheers.) I am reminded of a very well-known character in society of whom we have heard in times past, who, having had many severe attacks of gout, and who, getting into years, and having a cellar of fine old port, upon which he drew somewhat considerably, was advised by his physician to give up the port, and for the future to drink a certain thin claret, not very expensive, which was known at that time by a certain name. Said the gentleman in reply to this suggestion: "I prefer my gout with my port, to being cured of my gout with that claret of yours." (Laughter.) Very well, we have no controversy with that class, but I consider it an important one, and have, therefore, given it so much prominence. But let us deal with ourselves fairly. Do we not all, if we do not in the matter of wine and spirits—do we not all, from certain motives, often do things which are not absolutely conducive to health, for some end to be gained? (Hear, hear.) It may not be a sensual end, but yet you may sacrifice life and health. Is it not done every day in this great town for the purposes of ambition, of making money, and of gaining all sorts of things which, although they may have higher aims probably than the flavour of wine, should still not be the highest aims in life? (Hear, hear.) Let us remember that there are many other modes of self-sacrifice besides that of drinking, and that if we are keen and careful in all that we do, we shall not find that we are doing always everything for the utmost preservation of our health. A large part of the problem of life, so far as its duration here is concerned, is solved when each can determine for himself what those pleasures are which can be enjoyed on the cheapest terms, and I think we shall find that certainly the enjoyment of alcoholic liquor, however delicious, is not, at any cost of health, an aim worthy to be attained. (Cheers.) Still, I want you to bear in mind that life would be a very dull thing without some excitement; that I am by no means an ascetic; and that if I thought the giving up of wine or spirits—though I am not a .teetotaler, I never drink them—would pledge me in the least degree to an ascetic disposition, I should be tempted to begin to drink them to-morrow, because that is the last page 5 character which a man who desires to be of use in his time and generation ought to aspire to. (Cheers.)

Our controversy, then, is with that great mass of people, as we take it to be, who believe that alcoholic or fermented liquors are good, necessary articles of diet for men, women, and children; and I am afraid we must confess that, however successful the cause of temperance may have been, that in dealing with these people we have still to deal with a very large proportion of the community indeed. (Hear, hear.)

There are two kinds of argument, as it appears to me, that must be used in reference to these masses. The first argument I shall call the physiological one—the argument which is derived from known facts elicited from the examination of man's constitution, and from things in general around us; and the second argument is the argument from experience. There are now many thousands of persons who have tried both plans for themselves—not those who have tried only one, but those who have tried the two plans of adopting alcoholic liquors for their daily dietary, and expunging them from it altogether. The result has now produced a large body of experience, and this forms the second class of argument of which you will no doubt receive fresh illustrations this evening. Now, in reference to the first part, or the physiological argument, I may, as "preface," appeal, I think, to a valuable "chapter" on the subject which shall follow me, and I shall not say much about it; but there are two points in relation to it to which I shall briefly ask your attention.

In asking you to listen to me on the first point, I do not do so with the least amount of diffidence, because I am satisfied that if my opinions do not altogether coincide with yours (and I may say at once that I do not come here to conceal those opinions, whatever they may be) I am quite sure that you will bear with me. (Cheers.) I know you wish to hear from me what I believe to be the truth—(cheers)—and I know that what you desire before all things is that truth, whatever it may be. (Hear, hear.) Well, then, first of all I believe that alcohol is of value to the human body, under certain exceptional circumstances, and I shall found upon that fact one of the strongest possible arguments you can desire for not bringing it into your daily food. (Cheers.) I think I can better illustrate what I mean, not by using any scientific phraseology whatever, but by telling you an incident which came under my notice. When not very long ago a well-known pedestrian laid a bet that he would walk fifty miles in a certain number of hours, I need not tell you that he exerted himself to the utmost to do it. You are aware that in training for such things, instead of taking a good deal of stimulant which used to be the plan formerly, they train now upon a very small quantity of stimulant, and I am not quite sure whether some do not prefer to discard it altogether. That is a sign of the times well worthy being noted. This man walked forty-eight miles, and was then knocked up. He declared he could not go any further. Whether that was loss of strength or loss of pluck, you shall see. What his backers advised him to do was to drink a glass of brandy. He drank it, walked the two miles, and won the bet. Now that is just what alcohol can do, and it is nearly all it can do. When a man has lost, not all his strength, page 6 but has lost all his nervous pluck—when it is the nervous system, and not the muscular one, which has come to grief, then it is, that with stimulant the man does this: he draws a little bill on the future, and it enables him to win his bet. (Loud cheers.) Now, I take it that it happens not unfrequently in life that we have to draw bills on the future. I will give you another illustration. You are too late for the train, and you are driving a valuable horse to save it, if possible. You spur and whip that horse, but I take it that you do not think by always whipping and spurring that horse you add to his longevity. (Laughter.) Just so with alcohol. I take it—for now I speak of a matter of which I have not any experience—that if a man becomes involved in large pecuniary difficulties, he may go to certain dealers in money, under such circumstances, and pay what is called 60 per cent, for the accommodation he requires. That may, perhaps, at a large cost, tide him over the difficulty; but you must all know well enough that that is a condition upon which he cannot carry on daily business. Just so with alcohol. (Cheers.)

Now, in this way, I sometimes (not often) turn it to very good account in medicine. I am here as a medical man, and I must tell you what my experience is, and it is not a small one on that matter. (Cheers.) I do not ordinarily advise healthy people to take it, but I have known the time when a man who has been lying on the bed of illness has lost, not all his strength, but his pluck; when his nervous powers have faded away, and when he does not care to live; and I know that under these and similar circumstances, if I can keep him afloat for a time when he is in danger of sinking, with something that goes down easily in the shape of alcoholic liquor, I have saved him; and I adjure you, as you love to further your cause of temperance, that you do not talk nonsense about putting any creature that we have out of our reach that we have within it, if we can ever do any good with it. (Loud cheers.) The man of large experience finds this world full of unusual and unexpected incidents and conditions, and we want all our resources to meet them. You may call alcohol a "poison" if you will, I care not for the name; all valuable agents in medicine almost may be ranked as poison, no matter what your creed or ism in medicine may be. What I insist on is, do not tie my hand in the use of any one thing when I want to save a life, and I know I can do it. But do not I extract, for you and for myself, from this, one of the strongest possible reasons that we should not play with this two-edged tool in health? that we should reserve that force for service in the time of need? (" Hear, hear," and cheers.)

And now for my second remark. It is one that should be known in conducting this controversy, and you will excuse me if I say, from what I have seen of temperance literature, you do not sometimes take sufficient note of it. I want you to understand that there never was a greater truth than this, that the extent to which alcohol affects different people, varies very, very greatly with the individual. There is no question that some people can take alcoholic liquor to a large extent with a very considerable amount of impunity, while, on the other hand, there are those who can take little or none without dire effects, and page 7 there is a long range or scale of difference between them. That is my observation, from seeing so large a portion of human nature as I do, under, not only healthy, but medical aspects. It will not do, as you will see presently, to make certain sweeping declarations relative to alcohol that cannot be sustained, and you can do no good in furthering this cause by doing so. (Hear, hear.) What I want you to understand is, that there have been a certain number of people who can take wine for a long period, live a long life, and die healthy old fellows after all. The same holds good with other things, such as the smoking of tobacco. One man can smoke ten or twelve cigars in a day, and not be apparently much the worse—I do not say he is any the better—(laughter)—and another man cannot take the mildest cigarette without being ill. We must not be too dogmatic. The more I see of life the more I see that we cannot lay down rigid dogmas for everybody. I will tell you who can't take alcohol, and that is very important in the present day. Of all the people I know who cannot stand alcohol, it is the brain-workers; and you know it is the brain-workers that are increasing in number, and that the people who do not use their brains are going down, and that is a noteworthy incident in relation to the future. I find that the men who live indoors, who have sedentary habits, who work their nervous systems, and who get irritable tempers, as such people always do, unless they take a large balance of exercise to keep them right (which they rarely do)—I say that persons who are living in these fast days of ours get nervous systems more excitable and more irritable than their forefathers, and they cannot bear alcohol so well. The instrument is in a different state of tension altogether to what the instrument was formerly. Such existed, of course, in all time, but compared with the present were much more rare. It is now a delicate nervous system, which the slightest touch will tell upon. It is not the old clumsy thing that required a thump to bring out the tone. (Laughter.) If the man with an irritable nervous system worked his muscles more, if he would take his ride or his drive, or his walking exercise more than he does, he would be better off. But in this London it is so difficult to do that, for, first of all, it takes a long walk to get out of the town; and if he did do so, he would not be in that irritable condition which the brain-worker—I do not mean merely the literary man, the man of science, but the man of business also—is generally in. But it is this difference which makes alcohol disagree more with the present generation than it used to do with a former one.

Now I will say a few words to you of that question which is put to me so often and so pointedly:—"If alcohol is so potent a poison, so dreadful a scourge as you make it out to be, how is it that those grand old fellows, our forefathers, lived to be seventy or eighty years, and died full of years, health, and honour—men who have been two or three-bottle men all their lives." That is put to me as a great puzzle; and it is often considered to be one. I have heard a contrary statement made, in reply, to this effect: "Ah! yes, they had good constitutions in those days. The type of life has altered. There were giants in those days. We don't produce that sort of man now." That is not at all my reply, and I believe it is not the correct one. First of all I should say page 8 —My friend you tell me of the survivors, what about the men who went down? ("Hear, hear," and cheers.) There were grand old constitutions in those days, and they stood it uncommonly well; but there were plenty of weak ones. Why is life longer now than it used to be? Among many causes, one is that the usages of drinking are not so severe as they were. Hundreds of young men who sat by the side of those old fellows were made to drink equal glasses. The high tides of alcohol that those old men kept abreast of .swept down many a young fellow. (Hear, hear.) That is the first answer, and the second is that it is not the type of constitution that has changed, it is circumstances that have changed.

Let us just for one moment compare the life of the country squire of fifty or seventy years ago with the life of his modern prototype—the country gentleman of to-day. Why, our country squire in old time had little to think about besides a parish quarrel or two. (Laughter.) He had no excitement for his brain, unless it was that fine healthy excitement of the hunting-field. He read his county paper once a-week; the main part of which was the state of the market, and that part which records the births, marriages, and deaths—(laughter)—and he might possibly have through the county member a frank once or twice in the shape of a letter brought by a postman who came about so often to deliver it. And last, and by no means least, he inherited his religion and his politics from his father equally with the family acres, and never had to trouble his head about either of them. Does that make no difference? Is that anything like the condition of to-day? Why, your modern country gentleman must have every morning at his breakfast-table the latest news from every Court in Europe, or he will not be satisfied. He will read all this, and much more, while he swallows his breakfast. He has fifty letters to answer a-week, and I do not know how many telegrams. He must have opinions on every point in religion and politics, or he won't hold his own with society in the country, or in town where he must go to spend a part of the year; and he must know all the pros and cons about a hundred things which never crossed the tranquil Drain of his grandfather. I cannot conceive a greater difference between the two conditions, and now you will see how my assertion about the brain-workers tells; and while all these men, who never troubled their brains, who had nothing whatever to excite them, drank thus freely and lived thus long, while the modern man in the country is as much a brain-worker as any man in town.

Now, then, I reply, lastly, and once for all: if you want to be a two-bottle man, go and live as our forefathers did—if you can. (Loud and prolonged cheering.)