Alcoholic Liquor in Queen Anne Stuart’s Reign 1702 – 1714

About Rosemary Morris
I live in Hertfordshire, near inspirational countryside within easy access of London, which is useful when I want to visit places of historical interest in the capital city.
My historical romances, rich in facts, are written in my office, aka the former spare bedroom, furnished with a large waxed oak desk and an 8ft by 6 ft bookcase which contains my historical non-fiction for research, some of the classics, favourite novels and books of poetry.
To enhance my novels, I enjoy researching food and costume, politics and economics, social history, religion and other topics.
Although, as the saying goes, they did things differently in the past, emotions have not changed, but the characters in my novels are of their time, not 21st century people dressed in costume. Before I begin a new book, I name my main characters and fill in detailed character profiles. By the time I write the first sentence, I can visualise them and know the hero and heroine almost as well as I know my friends.

Alcoholic Liquor in Queen Anne Stuart’s Reign 1702 – 1714

The upper classes considered beer consumed by the middle and poor classes an inferior liquor. The price varied according to quality. A nipperkin of molasses ale cost a penny, and a pint of superior ale cost fivepence.
Beer was brewed in London and elsewhere. Bottles of north country pale ale sold for four shillings a dozen. Merchants exported ale and stout to the West Indies and imported spruce beer. Then as now, duty was paid on beer, vinegar, cider strong waters, mead (wine made by fermenting a solution with honey often with spices) and metheglin (spiced or medicated mead). The sum ranged from 6 shillings a barrel to 1d per gallon for metheglin.
Well-to-do people, who preferred wine, had a wide choice. In that hard drinking, patriotic age, one gentleman drank three bottles of French claret every night because it brought a great Custom to the Crown, but it should be noted that the bottles were smaller than they are today.
Despite the war with France that made imports of wine scarce the number. the cargo from enemies’ captured ships and smugglers supplied the country.
However, some customers thought it unpatriotic to drink French wine, so port became popular. A treaty was signed with Portugal agreeing that the Portuguese would import British cloth and the duty on Portuguese wine would be one third less than that on French wines.
There were numerous French wines from different parts of France, some of which are not known today. Prices varied. Ordinary claret from the barrel sold for between 4 and 6 shillings a gallon, good quality claret cost between 3 or 4 shillings and 10 shillings a bottle. Baskets or hampers of champagne contained between 10 dozen and 200 bottles which retailed at about 8 shillings each. A bottle of superior burgundy cost 7 shillings.
From Portugal came Red Viana was often substituted for port, and there was White Viana, Lisbon, Carcavella and other wines from Portugal. Amongst others Spain supplied Sherry, Malaga, Barcelona, Spanish and Portuguese wine were strengthened with stum (partly fermented wine) which made a person get drunk with Stum’d wine.
Muscadine. From Florence came rush covered flasks with oil in the necks - Chianti, Multapulchana and Canary, and Tockay was imported from Hungary as well as wines from Cyprus.
Not every foreign wine found favour. In Tunbridge Wells the following remark was made about Rhenish wine: Dam Rotgut Rhenish.
Retailers had to apply for a licence to sell wines. Brooks and Hellier, wine merchants, had branches in different parts of London and in one year paid 25,000 pounds customs duty.
This was an era during which ladies continued to make liqueurs and cordials in the still room. Scandal whispered that the gentler sex sampled their concoctions. After tasting them and drinking tea, by afternoon their eyes shone more brightly than their jewellery, and for fear of fainting they kept a bottle of brandy under their beds at night.
In the stillroom housewives made Ratafia of Apricots, Millefleurs, Orangiat, Bergamot, citron and citron water. Elderflower and other homemade wines were appreciated.
Cider, much stronger than most bottles sound in modern day supermarkets, was drunk. So was punch which gradually became popular.
Major Birds’ recipe for punch has survived.1 quart of brandy, or 2 quarts if you want it to be very strong, 2 quarts and a pint of spring water, 6 or 8 Lisbon lemons, half a pound of fine loaf sugar. (If I were tempted to try this drink I would substitute unwaxed lemons.)
The major wrote. Then you will find it to have a curious fine scent and flavour, and Drink and Taste as clean as Burgundy wine.
Another intoxicating liquor was Brunswick Mum. The name of this compound is supposed to be derived from its power of making men speechlessly drunk.

The clamorous crowd is hushed with mugs of mum,
Till all turn’d equal, send a general hum.
Anonymous.

I am not surprised that, in an age when intoxicants flowed in rivulets down throats, an antidote was needed. It was found in, the Essence of Prunes, Chymically prepar’d by a son of Monsieur Rochefort, a sworn Chymist of France. It gives English Spirits the smell and taste of Nantz Brandy; it prevents any liquor from intoxicating the brain.

Extract from Tangled Love
A tale of riches to rags to riches

“Lord above, my wits have gone begging? I’ve forgotten to say a visitor awaits you,” said Elsie, Richelda’s only servant who had served her mother.
Richelda wiped her face on her coarse apron. “Visitor?” She forced herself to her feet.
“Yes, a fine gentleman, Viscount Chesney by name, is waiting for you in the parlour.”
Heavens above, he must be the man whose identity she mistook for Lord Greaves when she pretended to be her maidservant.
A long male shadow fell across the dark oak floor before the parlour door closed. She caught her breath. Either Elsie had left the door ajar by mistake or her uninvited guest had opened it and eavesdropped.
After washing and changing, Richelda went down the broad flight of oak stairs. Looking at Elsie, she raised her eyebrows.
Elsie nodded her approval and pointed at the parlour door. “He’s still in there. I’ll fetch some elderflower wine.”
“No, come with me—” she began, but Elsie, with speed surprising in one of her size, bustled into a passage which led to the kitchen.
He will not recognise me, Richelda reassured herself. She mimicked her late mother’s graceful walk, entered the room, and coughed to attract attention.
Viscount Chesney turned away from the window. He focused on her intently. “Lady Richelda?”
She curtsied, wishing she also wore exquisitely cut black velvet and silk instead of a threadbare gown fashioned from one of her mother’s old ones. He bowed and extended a perfectly manicured hand.
Ashamed of her rough hands, she permitted him to draw her to her full height. “You have the advantage of knowing my name.” She looked into grey eyes reminiscent of still water on an overcast day.
“Lord Chesney at your service, my lady.”
“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, my lord. Please take a seat.”
He laughed. “Lady Richelda, although I did not introduce myself to you earlier, I hoped you would say you are pleased to renew your acquaintance with me.”
She tilted her chin. “You mistake me for someone else.”
“I do not. Your eyes and voice are unforgettable.”
“What can you mean?”
“Why are you pretending to misunderstand me?” he drawled. “Shall we sit? No, do not look at me so distrustfully. In my coach I did not avail myself of the opportunity to manhandle you earlier today. Word of a gentleman, there is no need to fear me either now or in future.”
Somewhat nervous despite his assurance, she sat opposite him. While she regained her composure, she put her feet side by side on a footstool.
“If you confess, I will not tell your aunt.”
“My aunt?”
“Yes, she wishes me to make your acquaintance.”
Her mother’s family shunned her. They feared being tainted by her late father’s politics. The viscount must have referred to Father’s only close relative, his sister, Lady Isobel.
“Aunt?” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, suspicious because she knew her mother, born into a family with slightly puritanical inclinations, despised Aunt Isobel’s frivolity.
He nodded.
“But my aunt—”
Burdened by a tray, Elsie entered the room. She put it down and served them with elderflower wine before she withdrew.
Chesney eyed his glass of wine with obvious mistrust. “Why did you sigh, Lady Richelda?”
She refrained from explaining she longed to eat something other than her daily fare of boiled puddings, flavoured with herbs, mixed with vegetables, and served with or without game birds or rabbits, which Elsie sometimes snared.
Bowstring taut, Richelda drank some pale wine. She looked at the viscount, whose posture depicted a man at ease. “Please taste this wine, my lord, although you might not be accustomed to home-brewed beverages, I think you will enjoy it.”
He sipped some. “An excellent tribute to Elsie’s skill. She made it, did she not?”
Richelda nodded.

Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels:
Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels
False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child and Thursday’s Child.
Mediaeval Novel
Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
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