Uploaded September 2015 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Here's a virtual of the Rev. James Townley (6 May 1714 – 5 July 1778) the English dramatist reading his short poem decrying the evils of Gin drinking of which their was a craze that led to the premature destruction of many lives during his lifetime
Gin, cursed Fiend, with Fury fraught, Makes human Race a Prey. It enters by a deadly Draught And steals our Life away.
Rev James Townley, 1751
Binge drinking isn’t anything new. The Gin Craze that swept 18th century London spawned as many social problems and fuelled as much public outcry as anything we read about in the papers today.
In over-crowded, slum-ridden Georgian London, gin was the opium of the people. For a few pennies, London’s poor found entertainment and escapism from cold and hunger at the bottom of a glass. In 1730, around 10 million gallons of gin were being distilled in the Capital each year and sold from 7,000 dram shops. In fact, it’s estimated that the average Londoner drank a staggering 14 gallons of the stuff a year!
Invented in Holland, gin only became popular in England when Dutch-born William of Orange took the English throne in 1688. By the end of the century, we were at war with France. So, to protect our economy and help the war effort, the government put a heavy duty on the import of spirits and lifted restrictions on domestic spirit production. In doing so, they created a healthy market for poor quality grain – which could only benefit the many landowners who sat in Parliament. The resulting trade also created a rich source of tax revenue.
The effects were devastating. Gin was blamed for misery, rising crime, prostitution, madness, higher death rates and falling birth rates. The vice-chamberlain Lord Hervey remarked that, "Drunkenness of the common people was universal, the whole town of London swarmed with drunken people from morning till night." In one notorious case of 1734, a woman named Judith Dufour collected her two-year-old child from the workhouse, strangled him, dumped the body in a ditch and sold the child’s new set of clothes for 1s and 4d to buy gin.
As public outcry grew, the government was forced to take action. The 1736 Gin Act taxed retail sales at 20 shillings a gallon and made selling gin without a £50 annual licence illegal. In the next seven years, only two licences were taken out. Whereas reputable sellers were put out of business, bootleggers thrived. Their gin, which went by colourful names such as ‘Ladies Delight’ and ‘Cuckold’s Comfort’, was more likely to be flavoured with turpentine than juniper. At worst, it was poisonous, containing horrifying ingredients such as sulphuric acid.
In 1751, artist William Hogarth published his satirical print ‘Gin Lane’, which depicted such disturbing scenes as a gin-crazed mother, covered in syphilitic sores, unwittingly dropping her baby to its death down some cellar stairs while she takes a pinch of snuff. Aided by powerful propaganda such as this, the 1751 Gin Act was passed. This was more successful. It lowered the licence fee and forced distillers to sell only to licensed retailers trading from respectable premises.
A change in the economy also helped turn the tide. A series of bad harvests forced grain prices up, making landowners less dependent on income from gin production. They also forced food prices up and wages down, so the poor were less able to afford their drug of choice. By 1757, the Gin Craze was all but dead.
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2015
Here's a virtual of the Rev. James Townley (6 May 1714 – 5 July 1778) the English dramatist reading his short poem decrying the evils of Gin drinking of which their was a craze that led to the premature destruction of many lives during his lifetime
Gin, cursed Fiend, with Fury fraught, Makes human Race a Prey. It enters by a deadly Draught And steals our Life away.
Rev James Townley, 1751
Binge drinking isn’t anything new. The Gin Craze that swept 18th century London spawned as many social problems and fuelled as much public outcry as anything we read about in the papers today.
In over-crowded, slum-ridden Georgian London, gin was the opium of the people. For a few pennies, London’s poor found entertainment and escapism from cold and hunger at the bottom of a glass. In 1730, around 10 million gallons of gin were being distilled in the Capital each year and sold from 7,000 dram shops. In fact, it’s estimated that the average Londoner drank a staggering 14 gallons of the stuff a year!
Invented in Holland, gin only became popular in England when Dutch-born William of Orange took the English throne in 1688. By the end of the century, we were at war with France. So, to protect our economy and help the war effort, the government put a heavy duty on the import of spirits and lifted restrictions on domestic spirit production. In doing so, they created a healthy market for poor quality grain – which could only benefit the many landowners who sat in Parliament. The resulting trade also created a rich source of tax revenue.
The effects were devastating. Gin was blamed for misery, rising crime, prostitution, madness, higher death rates and falling birth rates. The vice-chamberlain Lord Hervey remarked that, "Drunkenness of the common people was universal, the whole town of London swarmed with drunken people from morning till night." In one notorious case of 1734, a woman named Judith Dufour collected her two-year-old child from the workhouse, strangled him, dumped the body in a ditch and sold the child’s new set of clothes for 1s and 4d to buy gin.
As public outcry grew, the government was forced to take action. The 1736 Gin Act taxed retail sales at 20 shillings a gallon and made selling gin without a £50 annual licence illegal. In the next seven years, only two licences were taken out. Whereas reputable sellers were put out of business, bootleggers thrived. Their gin, which went by colourful names such as ‘Ladies Delight’ and ‘Cuckold’s Comfort’, was more likely to be flavoured with turpentine than juniper. At worst, it was poisonous, containing horrifying ingredients such as sulphuric acid.
In 1751, artist William Hogarth published his satirical print ‘Gin Lane’, which depicted such disturbing scenes as a gin-crazed mother, covered in syphilitic sores, unwittingly dropping her baby to its death down some cellar stairs while she takes a pinch of snuff. Aided by powerful propaganda such as this, the 1751 Gin Act was passed. This was more successful. It lowered the licence fee and forced distillers to sell only to licensed retailers trading from respectable premises.
A change in the economy also helped turn the tide. A series of bad harvests forced grain prices up, making landowners less dependent on income from gin production. They also forced food prices up and wages down, so the poor were less able to afford their drug of choice. By 1757, the Gin Craze was all but dead.
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2015





![Pro Patria - Owen Seaman - WW1 - Poem - Animation
Heres a virtual movie of the English Poet Owen Seaman reading perhaps his most famous poem Pro Patria This is another of his patriotic recruiting poems designed to encourage men to join the military. Luckily for the poet himself he was too old to throw his life away by joining the slaughter of the Great War. Wilfred Owen wrote an antithesis to this poem had a very different view of war at the time than Owen Seaman. Wilfred Owen had actually been in the war and saw the horrific deaths and pain involved in it. He was very disgusted with the writers that were pro-war, people that had been writing about the war that had not experienced what he and millions of others had been thrust into,and were simply basing there patriotic outpourings on what they had been fed by the propaganda machine with no real knowledge.Owen was infuriated because he believed that it was unrealistic for people to be glorifying a war that they knew nothing about it and its consequences . One of the lines in Pro Patria, Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori translates into English from the Latin as It is sweet and proper to die for ones country This same line is in the poem Dulce et Decorum Est. This writing is more anti-war than pro-war. It talks about living instead of dying for your country and proposes the following question. Would it not be better to live for your country and honor it, than die trying? Maybe dying for your country is not as satisfying as living for it because after all, once your dead, what does it matter how you died?
Sir Owen Seaman, 1st Baronet (18 September 1861 – 2 February 1936) was a British writer, journalist and poet. He is best known as editor of Punch, from 1906 to 1932.
Born in Shrewsbury, he was the only son of William Mantle Seaman and Sarah Ann Balls. He distinguished himself academically both at Shrewsbury School and later Clare College, Cambridge.[1] Following this, he worked as a schoolmaster at Rossall School (1884) and Magdalen College School, Oxford (1887-8),[2] professor of literature at Durham College of Science, Newcastle upon Tyne (1890–1903), and became a barrister of the Inner Temple in 1897.[3]
Seamans first successful submission to the satirical and humorous magazine Punch was Rhyme of the Kipperling, an 1894 parody of Rudyard Kipling. The same year he published a full volume of parodies entitled Horace at Cambridge.[4] After several years of submitting work which showed a remarkable gift for the composition of light verse,[3] he was invited to join the staff in 1897, becoming assistant editor in 1902 and finally editor in 1906. It was during his tenure there that A. A. Milne, author of the Winnie-the-Pooh stories, worked as his assistant; it is thought that Seamans dour disposition may have been the inspiration behind the gloomy character of Eeyore.[4]
In 1914 he was knighted, more likely for his creativity than for his patriotism, which saw fuller bloom in the course of World War I. During the war, he wrote number of verses of a somewhat mindless, patriotic kind, reflecting the optimism and devotion to his native land rather than the stirrings of poetic genius, as anthologist John M. Munro put it.[5] In 1915, he published War Time, a book of poetry that Munro described as a mixture of satiric verse and patriotic doggerel. Nevertheless, in 1933, he was created a baronet, of Bouverie Street in the City of London. Sir Owen never married, and died in 1936. He is buried in Putney Vale Cemetery.
Kind Regards
Jim Clark
All rights are reserved on this video recording copyright Jim Clark 2014 Pro Patria - Owen Seaman - WW1 - Poem - Animation](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/zqUFCXQ3BKo/mqdefault.jpg)