The War of Jenkins’ Ear
Great Britain vs. Spain
1739-1748
Many history drinkers need no excuse to repair to the porch on a summer evening with a gin and tonic. But there is always military history to toast, and the gin and tonic is a perfect excuse to remember an obscure and bizarrely-named example of European colonial fisticuffs: The War of Jenkins’ Ear.
Gin and Tonic
- British gin
- tonic water
- lime
- ice
An 18th-Century war between the British and the Spanish highlights the elegance and historical resonance of the gin and tonic. British colonies used gin to mask the bitter flavor of the quinine in tonic water, which was taken to prevent malaria. The British Navy provided sailors with limes to prevent scurvy (thus the name ‘limey’). Why limes and not oranges or lemons, which have more vitamin C? Lemons and oranges came from Spain, which alternated as a British trading and warring partner. Limes were obtained more reliably from the British West Indies, where the War of Jenkins’ Ear largely took place.
A drink that prevents malaria and scurvy, remembers The War of Jenkins’ Ear, and perfectly compliments a warm summer evening? The gin and tonic deserves its canonical place in the ranks of history drinks.
Ratings:
- Strength: 3/5; the ratio of gin to tonic is a question of taste
- Skill: 2/5; simple is as simple does
- Rank: 5/5; delicious
Background
The 1713 Treaty of Utrecht gave Britain a 30-year contract to supply the Spanish Caribbean colonies with slaves, goods, and sunburned mariners suffering vitamin C deficiencies. As the old saying goes, when you give the British Empire a centimetre, they take a hectometre. Suspecting the British of abusing the contract, the Spanish began inspecting British ships and seizing illicit cargo.
These search and seizures were testy moments, and Spanish ship captain Julio León “Mr. Blonde” Fandiño was a little overzealous in his punishment of offenders. In 1731 Fandiño boarded the British brig Rebecca, accused the boat of piracy, and cut off the left ear of the Rebecca’s captain, Robert Jenkins. Fandiño sang several lines of ‘Stuck In The Middle With You’ as he did this.
Hey, Captain Jenkins. Don't stick your thumbs in your ears and wiggle your fingers at the Spanish. That Mr. Blonde has an ill-favored look.
What Señor Blonde did not know was that Robert Jenkins was going to keep that ear for seven years and then present it to the British Commons during an inquiry into “Spanish Depredations upon the British Subjects.” Jenkins’ moving testimony, when he asked the Commons, “How do I look?” and the Speaker replied, “I don’t know what to tell you, Robert,” pushed Parliament towards making war on Spain. Aside from that moment, however, everyone agreed that Jenkins’ pickled ear was disturbing, and that his keeping it on the mantle for seven years was precisely the sort of thing his friends alluded to when declining his dinner party invitations.
In the summer of 1739, King George II ordered the British Navy to attack and seize Spanish ships and possessions in the West Indies. War soon followed. On November 22nd, 1739, six British ships of the line captured the poorly-defended town of Porto Bello on the coast of Panama. The battle was a walkover, but Britain overreacted by christening Portobello Road in London, awarding the most medals of any 18th century battle, and playing “Rule Britannia” for the first, second, and millionth time.
The war lasted for three more years. British Prime Minister Robert Walpole fell as a result of his lackluster enthusiasm for the war. George Anson accidentally circumnavigated the globe, capturing a lot of Spanish gold and losing nine-tenths of his men along the way. By mid-1742, the war was merged into a general European fracas (War of the Austrian Succession), as these things tended to go. In the large view of European tiffs, The War of Jenkins’ Ear was a relatively lackluster affair, except to those people who had to hang out with Robert Jenkins from 1731 onwards.
