Science and the Criminal

by C. Ainsworth Mitchell

In many cases the adulterated articles are sold unknowingly, the shopman being tempted by the offer of an alleged genuine product at a very low price, while the foreign manufacturer who supplies him with the goods cheerfully accepts the risk of prosecution, well knowing that he cannot be brought to book.

Frequently the adulteration is most skilfully effected, and every fresh advance in the chemical methods of detecting foreign ingredients is scientifically met by the adulterator. The old gross forms of adulteration are, for the most part, things of the past, save, of course, in the case of foods like milk, which contain much water, and where the temptation to increase the amount is frequently too strong to be resisted.

The old story of the grocer who called his apprentice to prayers after telling him to “water the treacle and sand the sugar,” has lost its point, at all events as regards sanding the sugar. The fraud is too palpable. And the same may be said of other unskilful forms of adulteration, such as the addition of gypsum to flour, chalk to milk, starch to butter, and so on.

In short, adulteration of to-day has become a fine art, and the public analyst has strong suspicions about many a sample, which he dare not condemn, since it might possibly be genuine, though of poor quality.

Long before the days of the public analyst there was an official who was, in a sense, his forerunner, and his methods were simplicity itself. As might be guessed, our ancestors three or four hundred years ago, were mainly concerned about the strength of the national beverage—beer, and they appointed officers who were known as “beer conners,” to visit the different ale-houses, and to taste and examine the liquor that was being sold. According to Mr. Sidney Lee, John Shakespeare, the father of William, was appointed an ale-taster in 1557.

The test to be applied needed no complicated apparatus or chemical reagents—nothing beyond a pair of leather breeches, which were called the “conning breeches.”

The beer conner would put these on, and having poured a little of the ale on to a wooden bench would sit down in it and patiently await the result. If after a given time he found that he was glued to the bench, the ale contained sugar, and was condemned as adulterated, but if he could rise without an effort the beer was passed as pure.

The oath to be taken by these beer tasters or conners ran as follows:—

“You are the chosen ale-tasters of this town. You shall well and truly serve his Majesty and this town in the same office. You shall at all times try, taste, and assize the beer and ale to be put to sale in this liberty, whether the same be wholesome for man’s body, and present those that offend, or refuse to suffer you to assay it. You shall give your attendance at all courts, and present from time to time the offenders, and all things else belonging to your office you shall do and execute. So help you God.”

A public analyst of to-day might well envy the easy lot of the beer conner, who had no difficult problems to solve, and who, if he condemned ale that had sufficient “body” to hold him to his seat, was sure of the support of the government officials.