Gin: The Much Lamented Death of Madam Geneva: The Eighteenth Century Gin Craze by Patrick Dillon Page B
Authors: Patrick Dillon
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Pelham, who would be Walpole’s anointed successor, and several MPs who would take an active part in reform over the next thirty years.
But the most colourful and energetic of all the Prisons Committee was its Chair. Major-General James Oglethorpe wasn’t just a soldier, adventurer, Jacobite and bully. He was also an evangelical Christian, friend of Sir John Gonson and sworn enemy of Madam Geneva.
After meeting him for dinner in 1755, Dr Johnson urged Oglethorpe, then almost sixty, to write his autobiography. He even offered to write it himself. He told Boswell that he knew ‘no man whose life would be more interesting.’ It did turn out to be quite a life. In 1722, when he became an MP, Oglethorpe was only in his mid-twenties and already had a military career behind him. That year he wounded another MP in a fight. Three years later he killed a linkman when he got caught up in a brawl at a London brothel. Following his work on the Prisons Committee, Oglethorpe wouldmove to America to found the colony of Georgia as a Christian refuge for the poor of England and the persecuted Protestants of Europe – it was Oglethorpe who persuaded the young John Wesley to go there. He would be a leading member of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Along the way, he would campaign against gin and in favour of Protestant minorities, prison inmates and the rights of lower deck sailors. When the General Magazine ran a competition for poems on ‘The Christian Hero’, the prize was a gold medal engraved with James Oglethorpe’s head.
The reports of Oglethorpe’s Committee held Parliament spell-bound all through the 1729 session. Reform was in the air. For once, MPs were having their faces rubbed in London’s seamy side. They were mesmerised; but despite the horrific descriptions of torture and brutality they took no action. Not even the Prisons Committee could break the inertia of the House of Commons. The hours of evidence and cross-examination, the long reports to Parliament and stories in the press, still didn’t result in a Prison Reform Act.
If prison campaigners couldn’t win legislation from the House of Commons, there seemed little chance for the enemies of Madam Geneva. Luckily for the gin reformers, though, the Gin Act wasn’t going to have much to do with reform in any case. Madam Geneva was about to become embroiled with interests far closer to Parliament’s heart: money and power.
Two issues dominated the parliamentary session. The first was Sir Robert Walpole’s need to secure his position with a new monarch. The second was the likely collapse of the sixteen-year peace which had lasted since the Treaty of Utrecht. When he came to the throne in 1727, George II had tried to replace Walpole with the colourless Sir Spencer Compton. Walpole, showing his usual combination of charm, ruthlessness and brains, had quickly outmanoeuvred his rival. He had survived a general election. But he still needed to consolidate his position with a monarch whohad got on badly with his father, and saw Walpole as his father’s creature.
Understanding that kings, like everyone else, have their price, Walpole had immediately proposed to increase the Civil List, which covered the King’s own expenses. Even this settlement, though, hadn’t been enough to secure his position. Eighteen months later, George II was complaining about arrears in the Civil List payments. No one took it very seriously. In private, Walpole had always held out against any reimbursement. But that had suddenly become risky. As Lord Hervey recorded, ‘the King … intimated to him, if he could not or would not do it, his Majesty would find those who were both able and willing.’ 4 The King was preparing to sell the ministry to the highest bidder.
Madam Geneva was exactly the woman Walpole needed. By this time drinkers were getting through 4,750,000 gallons of spirits a year, and on most of it they paid less than fivepence a gallon in tax. On 4 February
But the most colourful and energetic of all the Prisons Committee was its Chair. Major-General James Oglethorpe wasn’t just a soldier, adventurer, Jacobite and bully. He was also an evangelical Christian, friend of Sir John Gonson and sworn enemy of Madam Geneva.
After meeting him for dinner in 1755, Dr Johnson urged Oglethorpe, then almost sixty, to write his autobiography. He even offered to write it himself. He told Boswell that he knew ‘no man whose life would be more interesting.’ It did turn out to be quite a life. In 1722, when he became an MP, Oglethorpe was only in his mid-twenties and already had a military career behind him. That year he wounded another MP in a fight. Three years later he killed a linkman when he got caught up in a brawl at a London brothel. Following his work on the Prisons Committee, Oglethorpe wouldmove to America to found the colony of Georgia as a Christian refuge for the poor of England and the persecuted Protestants of Europe – it was Oglethorpe who persuaded the young John Wesley to go there. He would be a leading member of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Along the way, he would campaign against gin and in favour of Protestant minorities, prison inmates and the rights of lower deck sailors. When the General Magazine ran a competition for poems on ‘The Christian Hero’, the prize was a gold medal engraved with James Oglethorpe’s head.
The reports of Oglethorpe’s Committee held Parliament spell-bound all through the 1729 session. Reform was in the air. For once, MPs were having their faces rubbed in London’s seamy side. They were mesmerised; but despite the horrific descriptions of torture and brutality they took no action. Not even the Prisons Committee could break the inertia of the House of Commons. The hours of evidence and cross-examination, the long reports to Parliament and stories in the press, still didn’t result in a Prison Reform Act.
If prison campaigners couldn’t win legislation from the House of Commons, there seemed little chance for the enemies of Madam Geneva. Luckily for the gin reformers, though, the Gin Act wasn’t going to have much to do with reform in any case. Madam Geneva was about to become embroiled with interests far closer to Parliament’s heart: money and power.
Two issues dominated the parliamentary session. The first was Sir Robert Walpole’s need to secure his position with a new monarch. The second was the likely collapse of the sixteen-year peace which had lasted since the Treaty of Utrecht. When he came to the throne in 1727, George II had tried to replace Walpole with the colourless Sir Spencer Compton. Walpole, showing his usual combination of charm, ruthlessness and brains, had quickly outmanoeuvred his rival. He had survived a general election. But he still needed to consolidate his position with a monarch whohad got on badly with his father, and saw Walpole as his father’s creature.
Understanding that kings, like everyone else, have their price, Walpole had immediately proposed to increase the Civil List, which covered the King’s own expenses. Even this settlement, though, hadn’t been enough to secure his position. Eighteen months later, George II was complaining about arrears in the Civil List payments. No one took it very seriously. In private, Walpole had always held out against any reimbursement. But that had suddenly become risky. As Lord Hervey recorded, ‘the King … intimated to him, if he could not or would not do it, his Majesty would find those who were both able and willing.’ 4 The King was preparing to sell the ministry to the highest bidder.
Madam Geneva was exactly the woman Walpole needed. By this time drinkers were getting through 4,750,000 gallons of spirits a year, and on most of it they paid less than fivepence a gallon in tax. On 4 February
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