The Gin Craze: When Gin Caused Riots, Madness and Mayhem in the Streets of London
At Summerhall Distillery, we’re all for a well-made gin and a well-behaved good time. But not all gin stories come served with a slice of orange and a sprig of rosemary.
Some — like this one — come with poverty, protest, flaming barrels, and the complete breakdown of 18th-century society.
Ladies and gentlemen: welcome to the Gin Craze.
⚖️ A Spirit of the People (And That Was the Problem)
In the early 1700s, Britain was in the thick of political change, bad harvests, and a booming population of working-class Londoners who wanted a drink they could afford. Enter: cheap gin — strong, easy to make, and often laced with turpentine, sulphuric acid, or worse.
Parliament encouraged the distillation of grain-based spirits to support domestic agriculture and avoid importing expensive French brandy. The unintended side effect? Absolute chaos.
By the 1730s, gin was:
- Cheaper than beer
- Sold on every corner
- Consumed in shocking quantities (up to 14 gallons per person per year, by some accounts)
- Dubiously homemade (one recipe included oil of vitriol, aka sulphuric acid)
It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t artisanal. But it was available — and people drank it by the pint.
🍸 Mothers, Babies, and Moral Panic
Londoners didn’t just drink gin. They relied on it. Gin was a coping mechanism for the working poor — a temporary escape from overcrowding, hunger, and hard labour.
It was known as “Mother’s Ruin” because women drank it in such quantities that it caused scandal, heartbreak, and, in some cases, tragedy. (There are infamous reports of women trading their children for gin or giving it to infants to keep them quiet. Whether these stories were exaggerated by the press or entirely true… they were enough to send Parliament into a panic.)
And so began a decades-long battle between gin, the people, and the state.
🔥 The Gin Riots Begin
In 1736, the government passed the Gin Act, imposing a hefty £50 licence fee on anyone who wanted to sell gin (about £10,000 in today’s money). It also introduced stiff fines for unlicensed distillers.
The public reaction? Absolutely feral.
Riots broke out across the city. Publicans refused to comply. People started wearing “No Gin, No King” badges in protest. Even the magistrates admitted it was unenforceable. The act became a laughing stock. Within a few years, it was quietly dropped.
Londoners went back to their pints of gin — now underground, unregulated, and stronger than ever.
🖼️ Hogarth, Satire, and the Final Crackdown
In 1751, with the city still drowning in gin-soaked misery, artist William Hogarth released two famous engravings:
- Beer Street — clean, happy workers drinking pints of ale
- Gin Lane — chaos, squalor, suicide, and a woman dropping her baby down a staircase
The message was clear: beer good, gin bad. Parliament responded with the Gin Act of 1751, a smarter, more enforceable law that cracked down on retailers and distillers rather than drinkers. This time, it worked.
The gin craze began to die down. Respectable distilleries emerged. Quality improved. And gin — over time — regained its dignity.
🍊 From Riots to Respectability
Fast forward 250 years and you’ll find us making gin in an old veterinary school in Edinburgh — precisely and peacefully, we might add. We use nine botanicals, copper stills named Gert and Emily, and not a drop of sulphuric acid in sight.
You can even come tour the distillery, sip a perfectly balanced Pickering’s Gin & tonic, and learn how we gently coax citrus, spice and warmth from a recipe that dates back to Bombay, 1947 — not a riot in sight.
💡 Want to see the evolution of gin from Mother’s Ruin to marvellous? Book a tour → or shop the range →
📚 TL;DR: Five Wild Facts About the Gin Craze
- Londoners drank up to 14 gallons of gin per year in the 1730s
- Gin was cheaper than beer, tea, or clean water
- The first Gin Act led to full-blown riots and mass bootlegging
- William Hogarth’s Gin Lane helped turn the tide
- The phrase “Mother’s Ruin” comes from this era — and it wasn’t just poetic
So next time you raise a G&T, spare a thought for the gin-soused Londoners who paved the way — with picket signs, flaming barrels, and a deep, unwavering belief that they had the right to drink juniper spirits in peace.
And perhaps a small round of applause for the lawmakers who helped turn it from ruin into the refined little joy it is today.
