Chapter VII (2)

“To make a vessel of sixty-three gallons, we are instructed that, the water must be first boiled to the consumption of a third part, then let it be brewed according to art with seven bushels of wheat-malt, one bushel of oat-malt, and one bushel of ground beans. When the mixture begins to work, the following ingredients are to be added: three pounds of the inner rind of the fir; one pound each of the tops of the fir and the birch; three handfuls of _Carduus Benedictus_, dried; two handfuls of flowers of _Rosa solis_; of burnet, betony, marjoram, avens, pennyroyal, flowers of elder, and wild thyme, one handful and a half each; three ounces of bruised seeds of cardamum; and one ounce of bruised bayberries. Subsequently ten new-laid eggs, not cracked or broken, are to be put into the hogshead, which is then to be stopped close, and not tapped for two years, a sea voyage greatly improving the drink.”

The origin of the word “mum” is somewhat disputed, but the best derivation seems to be from the name of Christopher Mummer, who is said to have been the first to brew it. Others assign to the word an origin from _mummeln_, to mutter, and this seems to have been Pope’s idea when he wrote the lines:—

The clamorous crowd is hushed with mugs of mum, Till all, turned equal, send a general hum.

Others, again, find the derivation in the word mum, meaning silence.

Brunswick is always given as its birthplace, and it was certainly known as early as the sixteenth century, for in an old work, _De generibus ebriosorum et ebrietate vitanda_ (1515), “mommom sive mommum Brunsvigen” is mentioned as one of the drinks of Germany.

An old book, _England’s Improvement by Sea and Land_ (1677), contains a remarkable proposition for bringing over the mum trade from Brunswick, and establishing it at Stratford-on-Avon.

The old writer, from whom the receipt before-quoted is taken, lays considerable stress on the fact that “the ingredients in its composition are very rare and choice simples, there being scarcely any disease in nature against which some of them is not a sure specific,” the implication apparently being that the combination of these ingredients would largely increase their healing power.

In one of the 400 letters addressed by Sir Richard Steele to his wife we find him writing under date December 6th, 1717:—“I went to bed last night after taking only a little broth; and all the day before a little tea and bread and butter, with two glasses of mum and a piece of bread. {174} at the House of Commons. Temperance and your company, as agreeable as you can make it, will make life tolerable if not easy, even with the gout.”

A particular variety of this beverage was known as Hamburgh mum, and a catch in its praise of the early part of last century mentions it as hailing from that city:—

There’s an odd sort of liquor
New come from Hamborough,
’Twill stick a whole wapentake
Thorough and thorough;
’Tis yellow, and likewise
As bitter as gall,
And as strong as six horses,
Coach and all.
As I told you ’twill make you,
As drunk as a drum;
You’d fain know the name on’t,
But for that my friend, _mum_.

Readers of Sir Walter Scott will remember that Mr. Oldbuck is described at breakfast as despising the modern slops of tea and coffee and substantially regaling himself “more majorum, with cold roast beef and mum.”

An Act of Parliament, which was passed annually during the greater part of the first half of this century, prescribed certain duties on “malt, mum, cyder and perry,” and a tale is told that when Mr. Perry, editor of the _Morning Chronicle_, was indicted for libel, he conducted his own case, and by his able defence secured a verdict of “Not guilty.” Cobbett, who was shortly afterwards tried on a similar charge, also conducted his own defence, but was convicted. Erskine remarked that Cobbett had tried to be Perry, when he should have been mum.

In the eighteenth century patriotic sentiment was invoked to support the failing popularity of mum, as may be gathered from the old work _Political Merriment, or Truths to some Tune_ (1714), in which these lines occur:—

Now, now true Protestants rejoice,
Stand by your laws and King,
Now you’ve proclaimed the nation’s choice,
Let traitorous rebels swing; {175}

Let Royal George, the Papists scourge,
To England quickly come;
His health till then, let honest men,
Drink all in Brunswick Mum.

But all would not avail, and the liquor is now as dead as Christopher Mummer, the first inventor of it.

There is a tradition lingering in the northern parts of this island, that the Picts possessed the secret of making an ale from heather. Sir David Smith, in a MS. in the possession of the Duke of Northumberland, mentions a large trough cut in the solid rock at Kutchester, near the Roman wall. “The old peasants,” he says, “have a tradition that the Romans made a beverage somewhat like beer, of the bells of heather, and that this trough was used in the process of making it.” The tradition in Caithness runs that three Picts—an old blind man and his two sons—survived the rest of their race; that these alone of all mankind possessed the secret of making heather ale; that they guarded their secret with jealous care, and that they were in consequence much persecuted by their conquerors. At last the old Pict, in answer to the frequent importunities of his persecutors, promised to tell the secret, on condition that his two sons should be put to death. This was done, but the task was as far from accomplishment as ever, and nothing could be got from the old man but the truly Delphic words which are handed down in the couplet:—

Search Brockwin well out and well in, And barm for heather crop you’ll find within.

The secret died with him.

* * * * *

True or false, this is the legend as related in the north, and certain it is that _a_ heather beer was made until quite recently in some parts of Scotland and Ireland. The heather, however, is used as a flavouring rather than as an actual basis for making the drink. The blossoms of the heather are carefully gathered and cleansed, and are then placed in the bottom of vessels; wort of the ordinary kind is allowed to drain through the blossoms, and gains in its passage a peculiar and agreeable flavour, which is well known to all who are familiar with heather honey.

Pennant, in his _Voyage to the Hebrides_, mentions heather _ale_, and says that the proportions were two-thirds of the plant to one of hops (hops being sometimes added); and Mr. Weld, in his _Two Months in the Highlands_, {176} says that “although the art of brewing the Pictish heather ale is lost, old grouse shooters have tasted a beverage prepared by shepherds, on the moors, principally from heather flowers, though honey or sugar, to produce fermentation, was added.”

In some parts of Ireland there is a tradition that the Danes possessed the knowledge of making an intoxicating liquor from heather bells; this drink the peasants speak of as beoir-lochlonnach (_i.e._, strong at sea), an epithet by which the savage Northmen were known to the Celtic races. It is possible that there is some connection between this heather ale and the ale formerly made by the Swedes and flavoured with the _Myrica gale_. Reference to this plant is made in a Swedish law of the fifteenth century, in which it is forbidden to gather the blossoms before a certain period. The probability of this connection seems to be increased by the fact that in Yorkshire, a county which contains many descendants of the old Northmen, a beer is still made called “gale beer,” and is flavoured with the blossoms of a species of heather found growing on the moors in that part of the country.

As late as the commencement of this century an ale flavoured with heather, and differing little from the heather ale described, was brewed in many parts of Ireland. The practice, it is believed, is now almost if not quite extinct.

Irish moss ale is made in the following manner:—Take one ounce of Irish moss, one ounce of hops, one ounce of ginger, one ounce of Spanish juice, and one pound of sugar. Ten gallons of water are added and the mixture is boiled, fermented, and bottled. The consideration of the name of this liquor and the actual constituents may possibly remind readers of the old tale of that very clever person who made soup out of a stone with the assistance of a few such trifles as beef, vegetables, and flavourings.

Beer powders have been made, from which a good and refreshing drink may be procured by the simple addition of water. Various substances and juices have been used from time to time to improve the flavour or strength of ale. In Wales berries of the Mountain Ash were once used, and were said to greatly improve the flavour of the beverage. The sap of the sycamore tree is mentioned by Evelyn as being a most useful adjunct to the brewhouse; he says that one bushel of malt with sycamore sap makes as good ale as four bushels with water alone.

The service tree, the name of which is said to be a corruption of cerevisia, was so called because in former times a kind of ale was brewed {177} from its berries. Evelyn says that ale and beer, “brewed with these berries, being ripe, is an incomparable drink.”

Maize, beet-root, potatoes, parsnips, and other vegetables have each and all been used in the making of beer, but it seems very doubtful whether any combination of ingredients will ever equal the time-honoured partnership of malt and hops.

A writer in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ in 1758 says: “In many parts of the Kingdom, a beer is made of treacle—thus: to eight quarts of boiling water put a pound of treacle, a quarter of an ounce of ginger, and two bay leaves. Boil these for a quarter of an hour, then cool and work with yeast the same as beer.”

From treacle we naturally come to sugar. This chapter would be very incomplete without some mention of a kind of beer which is extensively brewed in England at the present day. It is brewed sometimes wholly of sugar, or sugar and malt. Occasionally rice is added. Looking at this sugar-beer from a chemist’s point of view, there is absolutely no fault to find with it; it is perfectly pure and perfectly wholesome. Nor is it found to differ, when analysed, from beer made from malt. There is certainly a popular prejudice against it, which may arise in a great measure from the love of the people for the historic drink made from malt. Though analysts cannot distinguish between malt liquors and beers made from sugar, there is usually a slight difference in flavour between them. It is a noteworthy fact that most of the largest firms, having extensive _private_ businesses, brew from malt and hops. Their success certainly indicates the direction in which the popular taste runs. If Englishmen prefer malt liquors, it is surely to the interest of the brewers to give them the genuine barley-bree, and not beer brewed from sugar, however excellent it may be.

The use of malt by brewers is of no little importance to English grain-growers, and is rightly looked upon by many as of national concern. Considerable misconception, however, may exist on this point, for the brewing trade generally, say that of late years English barley, from climatic or other causes, has not been found altogether suitable for brewing purposes, rendering an admixture of foreign grain necessary. All we can do is to express a hope that the brewers are somewhat mistaken in their estimate of English barley; but that if they are correct, England may in future years be accorded its due share of sunshine—that blessing of which Dame Nature has been somewhat niggardly of late, so that malt made from English grain alone, may again fill our mash-tuns. {178}

A distinction between beers arises, in name at least, from the vessels in which they are contained. We have beer in casks and beer in bottles. Fuller, in his _Worthies of England_, ascribes the invention of bottled beer to Alexander Newell, Dean of St. Paul’s and a master of Westminster School in the reign of Queen Mary. The Dean was a devoted angler. “But,” says old Fuller, “whilst Newell was catching of fishes, Bishop Bonner was catching of Newell, and would certainly have sent him to the shambles, had not a good London merchant conveyed him away upon the seas.” Newell was engaged in his favourite pursuit on the banks of the Thames, when such pressing notice of his danger reached him, that he was obliged to take immediate flight. On his return to England, after Mary’s death, he remembered, when resuming his old amusement, that on the day of his flight he had left his simple repast, the liquor of which consisted of a bottle of beer, in a safe place in the river bank; there he sought it, and, as the quaint language of Fuller informs us, he “found it no bottle, but a gun, such the sound at the opening thereof; and this is believed (casualty is the mother of more invention than industry) the original of bottled ale in England.” If this be the true origin of bottled ale, the use of it must have spread rapidly, for we find it mentioned in many Elizabethan writers. In Ben Jonson’s _Bartholomew fair_, Ursula calls to the drawer to bring “A Bottle of Ale, to quench me, rascal,” and many other quotations could be given proving its use in those days. Of course ale must have been carried in bottles long before Newell’s time, almost as early, indeed, as bottles came into use, but the bottled ale referred to is that which has been so long in bottle as to have acquired a peculiar and delicious flavour combined with a certain briskness not found in draught ale.

The country which next to our own has for generations stood pre-eminent in matters of beer and brewing is Germany; there, as here, beer is the national drink, though the character of the liquors is somewhat different. The usual German beer is of an exceedingly light character, and so perishable that it is impossible to preserve it for any length of time even in the coolest cellar; four-and-twenty hours after a cask is tapped it must be emptied, or what remains is spoilt. Nearly every considerable town in Germany gives its name to the beer that is brewed there and consumed by the inhabitants. The beer of each town has its own peculiarities, and the worthy burghers are, of course, always ready to support both in deed and in word the superiority of their native drink. There is, for instance, the Jena beer, famous in that university, which is of a very peculiar character, and is only made at {179} Lichtenhain, a little village adjoining the university town. It is a species of white beer, and is brewed from wheat malt. The taste for this liquor must be one not easy of acquisition, for the author of _German Life in Saxony_ describes it as being much like “cider and water, with a dash of camomile tea added to it.” The students, however, assure you that the taste once acquired remains so strong through life that Lichtenhainer is preferred to any other kind of beer.

So much has been written about student life and drinking customs that the subject will hardly bear repetition. Suffice it to say that in Heidelberg, Jena, and other large German universities there exist elaborate codes of drinking rules, in which _Persons_ are classified in accordance with their seniority at the university, and the beer-honours and labours which their position entail; _Things_ are divided into Principal things, subordinate things and appurtenances; Principal things are specified as “Lager-beer,” “black Cöstritzer-beer,” “Lichtenhainer-beer,” and all other white beers; appurtenances are “cans, doctors (a kind of measure), popes (another measure)” and other necessities of the drinking bouts. The actual laws of the code are far too long and complicated to be more than referred to here.

Lager beer is not unknown in England, and is sold at restaurants and hotels in most of our large towns. Much of it is imported; the rest comes from Lager-beer brewers, who have, within the last few years, started business in this country. Neither German nor Anglo-German beers appear to make much headway over here, nor is this very surprising when we remember how far superior our own ales and beers are to any brewed in Germany. The chief difference between lager[50] and English beers is in the time occupied in the fermentation. Lager-beer brewers keep the wort at an exceedingly low temperature all through the process, the result being that fermentation is delayed over several days. Lager beer simply means beer which can be kept in lagers or stores. Germany has from very early times maintained a large export trade in Beer. It has already been shown that in the fifteenth century large quantities were exported into Scotland, and another instance is to be found in Rymer (H. 5. 1. 22), where there is a record of an appeal made by the consuls of Hamburgh to Henry VI. The appeal states “that certain of your Magnificence’s Subjects and Servants to wit Michael Schotte and Molchun Poerter of Calais, rulers or captains of a certain great ship of war specially fitted out, did with their Complices in that present year, about the feast of St. James the Apostle, hostilely seize, detain, and carry off at their pleasure two vessels laden with {180} Hamburg ale, to the no small hurt and injury of our fellow townsmen.” They therefore pray that the ships may be restored to them and compensation made for the outrage.”

[50] Readers curious as to the technical details of the brewing
of Lager Beer are referred to Liebig’s Chemistry of Agriculture
(Playfair).

Roberts, in his _Map of Commerce_ (1638), says of Lubeck: “The place is famous for the beere made, and hence transported into other regions, and by some used medicinally for bruises of the body . . . though by them in use commonly both for their own drinke and food and rayment.”

One of the characteristics of Bavaria is the inordinate love of its inhabitants for their Bavarian beer, a love remarkable even amongst the beer-drinking Germans. In the towns the brewhouses are amongst the most important buildings, and the traveller remarks the number of beer cellars, whither the inhabitants resort to drink their favourite liquor. Brewing is the most flourishing trade, and the produce of Bavarian brewhouses is the best of continental beers. One of its chief peculiarities is that, although exposed to the air for lengthened periods, it will not turn acid as other beers do. This valuable quality is obtained for it by the peculiar management of the fermentation, and has been already referred to. Very little space can be afforded even for a general description of German beers, suffice it to say that their name is legion; there is black beer, white beer, brown beer, thin beer, strong beer, double beer, bitter beer, and countless local varieties of each and all these various liquors. One more _special_ variety may be noted, and that is the strong ten-years-old ale known by the people of Dortmund as “Adam.” It is mentioned by Corvin in _An Autobiography_, who relates that “when King Frederick William IV. of Prussia visited Dortmund a deputation of the magistrates waited upon him, one of them bearing a salver with a large tankard filled with Adam. When the King asked what it was, and heard that it was the celebrated beer, he said ‘Very welcome; for it is extremely warm,’ and drained off the contents of the tankard at a draught. The members of the deputation, who were better acquainted with old Adam than the unsuspecting King, smiled at each other, for they knew what would be the result. His Majesty was unconscious for more than twenty-four hours.”

The best beer brewed in Norway is a more or less faithful imitation of the Bavarian beer, and travellers should be careful to ask for “Baiersk öl,” {181} as the ordinary “barley-wine” of the country is not described as being of a very choice character. Much the same may be said of Swedish beer, one variety of which, however, has obtained a place in history. The beer of Arboga was of so seductive a character that on the occasion of the invasion of Hako and his Norwegian and Danish levies, a large part of the army loitered behind in the various inns of the place, quaffing the luscious beverage, and their King, in consequence, lost the day.

Russia has been behindhand in matters of brewing from the days when Catherine had to send to Burton for her private supply, even until now; but during the last few years the gentle Mujik has been taking so kindly to his “Bavarski Peavah” (Russo-Bavarian beer), that a triumph apparently awaits John Barleycorn in Russia similar to that old victory of his over Bacchus commemorated in the song of “Yorkshire Ale,” which finds place in the chapter devoted to Ballads.

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