One
would think that as the modern era approached, claims that people
drank alcohol to avoid bad water would fall away. But in fact the
same claim that is made about the medieval period can be found for
colonial America and even for the nineteenth century. Why? One
reason might, very speculatively, be a general sense that the past,
however distant or near, was, in a general, indefinable way, dirty.
And so, by extension, the water must have been too. As has already been seen for the Middle Ages, this is a dubious assumption. But it
is a persistent one and perhaps all the more persistent for being
unexamined.
In
discussing this issue, it is always important to emphasize two
points. One is that knowing that people drank a great deal of alcohol
tells us nothing about why they did so, anymore than knowing that
today's drinkers drink sodas, caffeine drinks, etc. tells us in
itself why so many prefer these to water. This is especially
important for early America because there is indeed evidence that
many Americans drank alcoholic drinks to a noticeable extent. The
other is that saying that bad water existed does not in the least
suggest that all water was bad. While there are somewhat less
mentions of bad water in early American accounts than one might
expect, it was certainly a problem in some times or areas. But there
are also ample mentions of water that was at the least acceptable to
those who drank it and in many cases good, even excellent.
Otherwise,
it does not help that, for the colonial period at least, two authors
have done their best to suggest that early Americans distrusted
water.
Dubious
pleadings
More
than one person on line, in trying to show that early Americans
thought their water unsafe, cites Sharon Salinger and/or W. J.
Rorabaugh. Salinger for instance writes: "Alcoholic beverages
appealed in part because water was considered an unsafe beverage; it
was popularly believed that drinking water endangered one's health."
Rorabaugh: “many people believed water unfit for human
consumption."
Note
that both these writers are writing, principally, not about water,
but about alcohol: Taverns and Drinking in Early America
(Salinger) and The Alcoholic Republic: An American Tradition
(Rorabaugh). To one with a hammer, everything is a nail.
The
hitch is that both selectively cite evidence to defend the idea that
colonial drinkers avoided water.
Salinger,
for instance, writes: “Governor William Bradford of Plymouth Colony
enumerated the enemies to health and the causes of disease as 'chaing
of aeir, famine, or unholsome foode, much drinking of water'..."
Which is perfectly accurate. But Bradford also wrote of new arrivals
in New England: "at length they found water and refreshed them
selves, being the first New England water they drunke of, and was now
in thir great thirste as pleasante unto them as wine had been in
for-times." In addressing reservations some had about coming to
America, he cited the claim that "the water is not wholsome.”
and wrote: “if they mean, not so wholsome as the good beere and
wine in London (which they so dearly love), we will not dispute with
them; but els, for water, it is as good as any in the world, (for
ought we know), and it is wholesome enough to us that can be contente
therwith." This certainly shows that the English preferred to
drink alcoholic drinks (many still do), but it also shows they could
be content with water, so long as it was wholesome (which Bradford
positively stated it was).
She
also writes: “Colonists regarded water as 'lowly and common,' a
drink better suited to barnyard animals than humans.
As a result, colonists avoided water as much as possible.” (Her
statement is also
quoted in the Encyclopedia
of American History: Colonization and Settlement, 1608 to 1760,
Revised Edition, vol. II.)
The phrase is a surprising one, given that America then was not an
aristocratic society and certainly not overall a snobbish one. Who
then pronounced the water “lowly and common”?
As
it turns out, Rorabaugh. This is not a period quote at all; it is a
quote from another secondary source. And in fact it is hard to detect
any such attitude in the various period diaries and traveler's
journals which mention water. If water was less desirable than
various flavored drinks (as, for many people, it still is today), it
was not viewed as any sort of social marker.
As
evidence for the unpopularity of water, Rorabaugh cites a quip from
Benjamin Franklin: "Or, as Benjamin Franklin put it, if God had
intended man to drink water, He would not have made him with an elbow
capable of raising wine glass." But he omits Franklin's more
matter-of-fact reference to “my light repast (which was often
no more than a biscuit, or a slice of bread, an handful of raisins,
or a tart from the pastry cook's, and a glass of water)" or his
mention of how he "went for a draught of the river water"
(in Philadelphia). Franklin also famously tells how, as a journeyman
in London, he drank water, so much that his fellow workers, who
mainly drank beer, called him “the Water-American”.
Franklin
is a strange example indeed to give of someone who avoided water; he
may even have favored the drink. What is more, in a codicil to his
will, he showed great concern for the water of Philadelphia:
The water of the wells must gradually grow worse, and in time be unfit for use, as I find has happened in all old cities, I recommend that at the end of the first hundred years, if not done before, the corporation of the city employ a part of the hundred thousand pounds in bringing by pipes the water of Wissahickon Creek into the town, so as to supply the inhabitants, which I apprehend may be done without great difficulty, the level of that creek being much above that of the city, and may be made higher by a dam;
Both
Salinger and Rorabaugh demonstrate, accurately, that early Americans
drank a great deal of alcohol. What they fail to do is demonstrate
that they did so to avoid drinking water.
Colonial
water drinking
In
his Commonplace Book,
William Byrd II (1674–1744) says:
“Eat of nor more than one thing at a
time, and let your drink be only water, or at best but wine and
water." While visiting Virginia mines in 1733, he found his
hosts short on food or “good drink”, “the Family being reduc'd
to the last Bottle of Wine, which was therefore husbanded very
carefully. But the Water was excellent.”
Clearly,
Byrd, a rich plantation owner, appreciated water. Yet ironically he
too is sometimes cited as proof that people found alcohol safer than
water, based on his account of a visit where he had nothing to drink
but water:
In the morning colonel Bolling, who had been surveying in the neighbourhood, and Mr. Walker, who dwelt not far off, came to visit us; and the last of these worthy gentlemen, fearing that our drinking so much water might incline us to pleurisies, brought us a kind supply both of wine and cider.
Note
first of all that Walker was not concerned that the water itself be
diseased, only that Byrd had drunk too much of it. Why? Because he
was afraid this would lead to “water on the lungs”, or pleurisy.
This was a question of excess, not contamination.
But
further, how did Byrd himself feel about his drink? He writes “it
proved but a Mahometan feast, there being nothing to drink but
water...” That is, he considered it a limited choice (despite his
advice elsewhere). But he expresses not the least anxiety about
drinking it. Nor, for all his wealth, does he even hint that it is
“lowly and common”.
The
Swedish-Finnish naturalist Pehr Kalm (1716 – 1779) came to America
in 1747 and remarked on the water in several spots. In Albany, he
says, “They commonly drink very small beer, or pure water.” But
he himself found this “pure water” off-putting, and even
unhealthy. This illustrates the important point that even when water
was less than optimal, people would sometimes become accustomed to
it.
The water of several wells in this town was very cool about this time; but had a kind of acid taste, which was not very agreeable. On a nearer examination, I found an abundance of little insects in it, which were probably Monoculi. ... I poured some of this water into a bowl, and put near a fourth part of rum to it. The Monoculi, instead of being affected with it, swam about as briskly as they had done in the water. This shews, that if one makes punch with this water, it must be very strong to kill the Monoculi. I think this water is not very wholesome for people who are not used to it, though the inhabitants of Albany, who drink it every day, say, they do not feel the least inconvenience from it. I have been several times obliged to drink water here, in which I have plainly seen Monoculi swimming; but I generally felt the next day somewhat like a pea in my throat, or as if I had a swelling there; and this continued for above a week... I have always endeavoured, as much as possible, to do without such water as had Monoculi in it. I have found Monoculi in very cold water, taken from the deepest wells, in different parts of this country. Perhaps many of our diseases arise from waters of this kind, which we do not sufficiently examine. I have frequently observed abundance of minute insects in water, which has been remarkable for its clearness.
Note
too that he did not find alcohol of much use in correcting what he
(but not the locals) regarded as a defect.
In
New Jersey, he found people happy to drink from a swamp:
All the inhabitants here were of opinion, that the water in the cedar swamps is wholesomer than any other drink: it created a great appetite, which they endeavoured to prove by several examples. They ascribed this quality to the water itself, which is filled with the resin of the trees, and to the exhalations which came from the trees, and can easily be smelled. The people likewise thought that the yellowish colour of the water, which stands between the cedar trees, was owing to the resin, which comes out of the roots of these trees. They likewise all agreed, that this water is always very cold in the hottest season, which may be partly owing to the continual shade it is in. I knew several people who were resolved to go to these cedar swamps, and use the waters for the recovery of their appetite.
In
describing an evangelical trip in 1766, Reverend Charles Woodmason
says he “drank not but water”. He presents this as a hardship,
but certainly not as a health risk.
Philip
Vickers Fithian (1747–1776) provides a comic illustration (from
1774) of alcohol not being a substitute for water. He describes a
drunken carpenter, holding a bottle of rum, begging for water: "O
sir call in a servant and have me some Water".
In
the same year, John Adams (1735–1826) wrote his wife of the
hardships to be faced in defying England: "Let us eat potatoes,
and drink water. Let us wear canvass, and undressed sheepskins,
rather than submit to the unrighteous, and ignominious domination
that is prepared for us." This again shows that water was indeed
viewed as a limited option. But there is no hint of snobbishness in
his tone, and certainly no sense that it is, in general, unhealthy.
Still,
Adams does present a rare example of someone explicitly drinking
alcohol to avoid bad water. In 1777, he wrote from Philadelphia:
I would give three guineas for a barrel of your cider. Not one drop is to be had here for gold, and wine is not to be had under six or eight dollars a gallon, and that very bad. I would give a guinea for a barrel of your beer. The small beer here is wretchedly bad. In short, I can get nothing that I can drink, and I believe I shall be sick from this cause alone. Rum at forty shillings a gallon, and bad water will never do, in this hot climate, in summer, when acid liquors are necessary against putrefaction.
Truth
be told, here he seems unhappy with virtually all the options
available. Too, he is mentioning water at a specific moment of the
year. But he does indeed seem to prefer alcohol to bad water (not, be
it noted, to water in general). If such comments were common in the
writers consulted here, this might indeed support the idea that
alcohol was regularly used to avoid drinking bad water. But in fact
Adams' comment is very unusual.
Adams
also describes an early water municipal water supply, here in
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania:
They have carried the mechanical arts to greater perfection here than in any place which I have seen. They have a set of pumps which go by water, which force the water up through leaden pipes from the river to the top of the hill, near a hundred feet, and to the top of a little building in the shape of a pyramid or obelisk, which stands upon the top of the hill, and is twenty or thirty feet high. From this fountain, water is conveyed in pipes to every part of the town.
The
French Marquis de Chastellux (1734–1788), while serving in the
Revolutionary War, noted settlers (apparently in North Carolina) who
were “obliged to content themselves with milk and water, until
their apple-trees are large enough to bear fruit, or until they have
been able to procure themselves stills, to distill their grain.”
Clearly these settlers preferred drinking cider or spirits. But there
is no hint that they regarded water as dangerous; they were able to
“content themselves with it”.
Joseph
Plumb Martin (1760–1850) offers a soldier's perspective during the
war. In one case, a lieutenant asked an old man “for a vessel to
dip some water from a spring near by, which was six or eight feet
deep, but the old man refused, saying that he would not let a soldier
have a cup to drink from if it were to save his life." In
another passage, he shows how important good drinking water was to
the soldiers:
The greatest inconvenience we felt, was the want of good water, there being none near our camp but nasty frog ponds.... All the springs about the country, although they looked well, tasted like copperas water, or like water that had been standing in iron or copper vessels. I was one day rambling alone in the woods, when I came across a small brook of very good water, about a mile from our tents; we used this water daily to drink, or we should almost have suffered.
Finally,
toward the end of the century, in 1794,
Martha Ballard (1734/1735
– 1812). a
midwife and healer, noted “I
was at Mr. Densmore's to see his daughter Dorcas who has a soar
throat. We gave her cold water, root tea and a fue drops viteral."
In
this case cold water was actually part of a cure.
It
should be clear from these examples that water was a standard, if not
favored, drink in colonial America. If some water was bad or, at the
least distasteful, that was not enough to prevent people from
drinking water in general. Clearly, many people would have preferred
something stronger or more flavorful, but nothing supports the idea
that this was because water was considered “lowly” or dangerous
in general. It may be too that some drank alcohol specifically in
cases where they distrusted the water, but if so, Adams' remark in
this regard is a rare one to note as much.
The
nineteenth century
At
the start of the nineteenth century (1807-1809), Fortescue Cuming
(1762?-1828?)
visited the West. In Natchez (Misssissippi), he wrote, "Water
is well supplied by wells about forty feet deep, and about a quarter
of a mile from the east end is a delightful spring... I found three
or four companies of males and females...enjoying the cool
transparent water, either pure or mixed to their taste." As
he traveled to Lexington in Kentucky, he took “a
glass of milk and water on horseback". While
in Beaver, in Pennsylvania, he noted that "the
inhabitants not finding water at a convenient depth, have... led it
by wooden pipes from a hill near a mile from the town, and have
placed publick wooden fountains in the streets at convenient
distances."
In
several different places, then, water was a standard drink. In
Natchez, it seems, they even enjoyed it.
Cuming
is also one of the first to describe Philadelphia's waterworks:
This water steam engine, otherwise called the waterworks, is a work of great magnitude. It cost 150 thousand dollars, and is capable of raising about 4,500,000 gallons of water in 24 hours, with which the city is daily supplied through wooden pipes....The first stone of this building was laid on the 2nd May, 1799, and it was completed in 1801-2. The works belong to the city, and the citizens pay a water tax equal to the expence of keeping the engine in motion...
In
1832, Frances Trollope (1779–1863) published an account of a visit
to the States. She provides a more vivid account of this municipal
effort:
The water-works of Philadelphia have not yet perhaps as wide-extended fame as those of Marly, but they are not less deserving it. At a most beautiful point of the Schuylkill River, the water has been forced up into a magnificent reservoir, ample and elevated enough to send it through the whole city. The vast yet simple machinery by which this is achieved is open to the public, who resort in such numbers to see it, that several evening stages run from Philadelphia to Fair Mount for their accommodation....... The works themselves are enclosed in a simple but very handsome building of freestone, which has an extended front opening upon a terrace, which overhangs the river: behind the building, and divided from it only by a lawn, rises a lofty wall of solid lime-stone rock, which has, at one or two points, been cut into, for the passage of the water into the noble reservoir above. From the crevices of this rock the catalpa was every where pushing forth, covered with its beautiful blossom. Beneath one of these trees an artificial opening in the rock gives passage to a stream of water, clear and bright as crystal, which is received in a stone basin of simple workmanship, having a cup for the service of the thirsty traveller.
Ten
years later, Dickens would also mention this structure in his
American Notes:
Philadelphia is most bountifully provided with fresh water, which is showered and jerked about, and turned on, and poured off, everywhere. The Waterworks, which are on a height near the city, are no less ornamental than useful, being tastefully laid out as a public garden, and kept in the best and neatest order.
Again,
this not only shows Americans drinking water, but a city going to
some effort to provide it.
One
of Trollope's remarks only incidentally shows how normal it was to
drink water at that point:
A Virginian gentleman told me that ever since he had married, he had been accustomed to have a negro girl sleep in the same chamber with himself and his wife. I asked for what purpose this nocturnal attendance was necessary? "Good heaven!" was the reply, "if I wanted a glass of water during the night, what would become of me?
Note
once again that this is clearly someone of at least some means, yet
there is no hint here that water is “lowly”.
In
New York, she notes, "Ice is in profuse abundance; I do not
imagine that there is a house in the city without the luxury of a
piece of ice to cool the water, and harden the butter."
Her
most telling remark is on America in general: "Almost everyone
drinks water at table, and by a strange contradiction, in the country
where hard drinking is more prevalent than in any other, there is
less wine taken at dinner". It was true, that is, that many
Americans drank alcoholic drinks; but this was separate from their
use of water. She goes on to say: "the hard drinking, so
universally acknowledged, does not take place at jovial diners, but,
to speak plain English, in solitary dram-drinking." This is as
clear a statement as one can find of the difference between drinking
water (for refreshment) and drinking alcohol (apparently, mainly to
get drunk).
Dickens,
in 1842, provided several notes on American water drinking as well.
On a steamboat to Cincinnati, he writes, “At dinner, there is
nothing to drink upon the table, but great jugs full of cold water”.
While being harried by urchins on a train from Baltimore to
Washington, he describes one "refreshing himself with... a
draught from the water-jug". Even in the Eastern Penitentiary in
Pennsylvania, he writes, "Fresh water is laid on in every cell,
and [each prisoner] can draw it at his pleasure."
Still,
in Columbus, Ohio, he did encounter bad water – but alcohol here
was not an option: "As [the coffee and tea] are both very bad and
the water is worse, I ask for brandy; but it is a Temperance Hotel,
and spirits are not to be had for love or money." This is now
something to consider in American drinking habits; where Temperance
reigned, water would have been one of the few options; alcohol was out of
the question.
People
continued too to drink water about which they had reservations. In
1840, Lydia Bacon (1786-1853)
was in Indiana, where she was able to enjoy water despite doubts
about its purity:
"We drink the river water; it tastes very well, but I do not
like to think of the dirt that is thrown into it."
When
speaking of the American West, it seems all the more ludicrous to
suggest that people avoided water. There was only so much liquid –
of any sort – wagon trains or other travelers could carry and so
the search for plain water was concern enough, without demanding
alcohol in its place. A Forty-Niners' journal captures the pure
ecstasy of simply finding drinking water:
We were all weak, as we did not like to eat for fear of increasing our thirst... The men on the lead reached the kanyon a long time ahead of those who were behind. After proceeding up the kanyon a little distance they found running water. As soon as they saw it they shouted "Water, Water" at the top of their voices. The cry was caught up by those behind, and was rapturously repeated the whole length of the line.... they reached it at last. Pure, sparkling, cold water was there, gurgling as it ran over the rocks in the channel. Oh, what music to our ears was in the sound! How ravishing the sight!... Though nearly twenty years have elapsed since then, the impression still remains; I cannot bear now to see water wasted.
The
Civil War
This point in history may serve as the end of “Early America”. Soldiers' accounts
vividly show the importance of drinking water: "I ran through
the open gate and asked if I might fill my canteen with water from
the well. And she, the haughty Virginia maiden, refused to notice
me." (Wilkeson); "Our haversacks are filled with salt pork
and hard bread and our canteens with water."; "One
gentleman kindly sent me some iced water by a servant as I passed his
house."; "We have moved our camp from near the river to a
hill where we get plenty of pure water from a spring. This is a great
luxury, for in most of our camps we have been obliged to go long
distances for water."; "Yesterday some of my men discovered
an ice house full of ice, and we have been having a luxury in the way
of iced water." (Rhodes); "We have an excellent well of
water in the yard, which is a great thing in this part of the
country."; "Many of the commands are sinking wells, so as
to get good water for the men." (Wainwright).
Finally,
from the same period (1863), here is a note from Frances Trollope's
son, Anthony, writing of the public rooms in American hotels: "On
a marble table in the middle of the room always stands a large
pitcher of iced water". One can be sure that in such hotels
spirits were (except where Temperance reigned) readily available.
Nonetheless, for pure refreshment, what could replace cool water?
Conclusion
Why
is it that so many writers insist on imagining a past where water was
suspect, dangerous, avoided by most drinkers? This tendency, first
apparent in regard to the Middle Ages, continues to appear for
subsequent eras and has established a pre-conception in many people's
minds that is hard to shake. Salinger offers a handful of examples
which show, one can, just, find illustrations for the idea in early
America, but at the cost of ignoring what appears in the wider
picture. (One would be hard put, on the other hand, to offer specific examples of Americans finding water "lowly and common" or more ludicrously still "better suited to barnyard animals".)
Anyone
who cares to leaf through the various sources (linked below) for the
examples given here will find that, if they are sometimes scattered
through these works, they are not exceptions contradicted by other
unmentioned cases of people, for instance, drinking cider or beer to
avoid bad water. Such mentions are in fact very rare. Americans, from
the colonial period on, found it natural to drink water, even if they
also (and apparently with gusto) drank alcohol. They still do today,
even as a host of other options crowd supermarket shelves.
FOR
FURTHER READING:
Franklin, Benjamin, William Temple Franklin,Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin … 1818
Fithian, Philip Vickers, Journal & Letters of Philip Vickers Fithian, 1773-1774: A Plantation Tutor ... 1957
Martin, Joseph Plumb, A Narrative of a Revolutionary Soldier: Some Adventures, Dangers, and ... 2010
1998
Wilkeson, Frank, Turned Inside Out: Recollections of a Private Soldier in theArmy of the Potomac 1885
Wainwright, Charles S., A Diary of Battle: The Personal Journals of Colonel Charles S. Wainwright ... 1998
