Deadly Adulteration and Slow Poisoning Unmasked / Disease and Death in the Pot and Bottle

by Anonymous

And, 5. To prevent acidity, or to diminish or destroy it when formed.

“It is absolutely frightful,” exclaims Mr. Donovan, (Domestic Economy, p. 201,) “ to contemplate the list of poisons and drugs with which malt liquors have been (as it is technically and descriptively called) doctored. Opium, henbane, cocculus indicus, and Bohemian rosemary, which is said to produce a quick and raving intoxication, supplied the place of alcohol. Aloes, quassia, gentian, sweet scented flag, wormwood, horehound, and bitter oranges, fulfilled the duties of hops. Liquorice, treacle, and mucilage of flax seed, stood for attenuated malt sugar. Capsicum, ginger, and cinnamon, or rather cassia-buds, afforded to the exhausted drink the pungency of a carbonic acid. Burnt flour, sugar, or treacle, communicated a peculiar taste which porter drinkers generally fancy. Preparations of fish, assisted in cases of obstinacy with oil of vitriol, procured transparency. Besides these, the brewer had to supply himself with potash, lime, salt, and a variety of other substances, which are of no other harm than in serving the office of more valuable materials, and defrauding the customer.” In this extract it is observable that that ingenious gentleman has drawn up his account in the past tense, as if there were no adulterations now!!! The author of “The Art of Brewing,” in the Library of Useful Knowledge, has adopted a juster and a more honourable course; besides giving a fuller list of poisonous articles, he has spoken boldly and truly, and tells us that poisonous adulterations are “still used extensively” by those who “sport with the lives of their fellow creatures for the sake of gain,” and that “the seizures and convictions that have been so often made, and are still making by the Excise,” are proofs of the fact. It is, however, with much satisfaction (for no other motive influences me in making the horrific disclosures detailed in this volume than a regard for the public welfare and for public justice) that the statement made in that publication respecting the introduction of gypsum into the manufacture of Burton Ale has been disproved in the recent application made to the Court of King’s Bench by the Burton Ale Brewers, who assert that the peculiarity of flavour belonging to their liquor is occasioned by the water from which it is made running over a rock of gypsum, and thus impregnated with that substance.

In the year 1807, a paragraph appeared in almost all the London daily papers, asserting that porter, brewed in London, contained deleterious drugs. The London porter brewers, indignant at the “unjust and causeless” accusation, had a meeting, and one and all agreed to prosecute the offending journalists. They of course made affidavits, and complied with all the requisites of the law to establish their “innocence.” They moved the Court of King’s Bench for criminal informations against three-fourths of the daily press, and their Counsel made long speeches on “the guilt and unfounded and malicious libels of their accusers.” All looked well for obtaining a verdict of guilty against the denouncers of fraud and villany, and establishing the purity and justice of “the brewing interests,” by the verdict “of an impartial and intelligent jury,” had not the late Lord Ellenborough declared the affidavits of the swearing-brewers insufficient, as the cunning varlets had only denied the introduction of deleterious ingredients in brewing; whereas, to ground their application and entitle them to the rule, they should have denied having used them after the beer was brewed. But as the pillory might have stared the honest gentry in the face had they made this “hard” assertion in their affidavit, the knowing folks here broke down; they could go no further. After making the town echo with the cries of “the infamous press,” they prudently dropped all proceedings against the proscribed journalists. The inference to be drawn is not difficult to surmise; but the fact is, that the publicans, who have of late been so sharply prosecuted by the Excise for adulterating their beer, can best answer the question: From whom did they learn the respectable art of beer-sophistication? Was it not from their “betters,” the “beer-mongers?”

If the foregoing statement of ingredients contained in the above infernal list is not sufficient to induce thee, friend Bull, to lay aside thy incredulity, and open thy eyes to the frauds that are daily practised on thy unsuspecting nature, I can only add that one of the “craft” (see Child, on Brewing, p. 18) tells thee that porter cannot be made of the necessary flavour and taste to suit the Londoner’s appetite, and of the proper colour to tickle his fancy by its appearance, of wholesome malt and hops, and that those simple ingredients would not furnish a profit sufficient to satisfy the modern brewer’s cupidity. Well may the old ladies exclaim (and no doubt, Mr. Bull, thou hast a penchant for displaying thy Latinity) O trickery! O mouthes!

But supposing, dear Bull, that all the above “horrid array” of poisoning and stupefying ingredients was “mere fudge,” and that you should have the fortune to deal with a brewer and publican, who have the “fear of the Lord” before their eyes, and who “wax strong in well doing,” recollect that the present manufactured “entire beer” of the most honest trading brewer alive is a very heterogeneous mixture—a composition of all the waste and spoiled beer of the publicans, the bottoms of their butts—the leavings of their pots—the drippings of their machines for drawing the beer—the remnants of beer that lay in the leaden pipes of the brewery, with a portion of brown stout, bottling beer, and mild beer. So admits that “paragon of brewers,” Mr. Barclay. (See Parliamentary Minutes, p. 94.) Surely, John, it is not courteous and loving treatment of thy “better half” and her “dutiful daughters” to expect them to sully their delicate throttles with the leavings and hawkings of some bearish beast of a coal-heaver or a night-man! This, friend John, is one of the “indicia” of the necessity of thy cultivating the clean and wholesome “home brewery” of thy forefathers; and in the promotion of this laudable and necessary undertaking I hope I shall be able to assist thee in my projected work, “The Family Brewing Oracle,” and that, by its means, thou wilt be enabled to drink a wholesome and nourishing beverage, either ale or porter, at the trifling cost of from five farthings to three halfpence per pot, after the tasting of which thou wilt never allow a drop of brewers’ or public-house porter, or intermediate beer, or any other vile or new-fangled substitution for the home-brewed liquor of thy ancestors, to enter thy chaps.

But, in your honest sincerity and “usually naive manner,” you will exclaim “but we have methods and tests for detecting the adulteration of our native liquor—our vinum Britannicum—our own Sir John Barlycorn.” Aye, have you, Old Gentleman! then I give you joy of your discovery, and hope thou wilt put it into constant practice every day of thy life before thou takest a sup of the delectable and heart-cheering composition. But, for my part, John, give me leave to say that I have always understood that the detection of the adulteration of beer with vegetable substances deleterious to health is extremely difficult, if not beyond the reach of chemical agency or analysis; and in most cases, particularly where cocculus indicus, or its extract, has been used, quite impossible. The tests for ascertaining the admixture of sulphuric acid are more determinate, and are ably detailed in Mr. Accum’s work, p. 193.

Among the minor crimes of fraudulent brewers is the art of converting new beer (that is beer that is just brewed) into old or entire beer; and this operation (which, in the cant phraseology of the trade, is called bringing the beer forward, or making it hard) is performed by an easy, expeditious, and economical method: an imitation of the age of eighteen months is produced in an instant, or, as modern statesmen, versed in the wonderful arcana of political science, would phrase it, “As soon as you could say Jack Robinson.” To put into execution this rare feat of “brewers’ art” you have nothing more to do, in order to convert any wishy-washy slop into an old entire beer, and, consequently, to render it “rich, generous, of a full-bodied taste, without being acid, and of a vinous odour,” than to throw in a quantum sufficit of sulphuric acid.[J] Stale, half spoiled, or sour beer, may as easily be converted into mild beer, by the proper quantity of alkali, or alkaline earth, oyster-shell-powder, subcarbonate of potash or soda; which substances have the effect of neutralizing the excess of acid.

Another of the less culpable adulterations by both brewer and publican is the admixture of small with strong beer. According to the evidence of the solicitor of the Excise (Mr. Carr), given before the Committee of the House of Commons, appointed for examining the price and quality of beer, in the year 1819, (see Minutes of the House of Commons, p. 32, &c.) the retailers of beer in London and its neighbourhood, purchase stale table-beer, or the bottoms of casks, from a set of men who go about and sell such beer at table-beer price to mix in the publicans’ cellars with the new beer they receive from the brewer. Among some of the trade it is the custom to mix the poor low-priced country ales with porter.

But, O John, thou lover of a “cauliflower head!” art thou aware how this object of thy admiration, and indeed natural property of good beer is produced? No doubt thou wilt be hard of belief in this respect; but I must be candid with thee, and tell thee that the “fine frothy head,” the ne plus ultra of thy admiration and test of good porter, is produced by thy honest friend and crony, the publican, by the simple admixture of the delectable and harmless article “beer heading” with the “genuine stuff” he receives from his worthy compeer, the brewer. When thy “gentle friend” observes the frothy property of the beer to be lost by his admixture of the legitimate modicum of small beer or “aqua pura,” molasses, extract of gentian-root and isinglass, (all which ingredients, no doubt, good soul, he adds for thy better health, and to save it from the injurious effects of too strong potations,) he prudently throws in his beer-heading, which is a composition of common green vitriol, or copperas, alum, and salt. The publicans are supplied with this article either by the regular and accredited manufacturer, or they are instructed in its manufacture by those vile and infamous publications in circulation, known by the name of Publicans or Vintners’ Guides, Directors, Friends, &c.—I have carefully gone through those pestiferous books, and examined their farrago of mischievous receipts and instructions for the adulteration and “making up” of wines, spirits, beer, &c. and can safely say that more infernal ingenuity, and a more reckless want of honesty and humanity have never been displayed in the basest concoctions of fraud and villany than is the case in those wretched publications. It is, however, but fair to exempt from this censure a work which has recently appeared, entitled “Clarke’s Publican and Innkeeper’s Guide, and Wine and Spirit Dealer’s Assistant;” which, though not entirely exempt from objection, is evidently the production of a skilful, and, what is of greater importance to the public, of an honest man, and possesses the great recommendation of instructing the trade in all the allowable secrets of the craft, without endangering the health and lives of the consumers; while it enables its readers to obtain better and more efficient results by its directions than can possibly be obtained by following the deadly and inefficient receipts of its predecessors.

I have now, friend Bull, brought my disclosures respecting thy favourite beverage—thy fondly but mistakenly imagined “pure extract from malt and hops,” to a close; but, shouldst thou still be hard of belief, I recommend thee to put thy tongue into the enchanting cauldron of some brewer-friend of thine; but, remember that I cannot ensure thee that thou will redraw it quite as unaffected or renovated as the tragic poet describes Æson to have sprung from the cauldron of Medea.