The writer of an historical essay dealing with the origin of the art of brewing, even in countries of comparatively recent civilization, cannot escape the necessity of taking into account a certain element of mythical obscurity, calculated to throw a legendary glamour around and about the introduction of a beverage, the invention of which has been ascribed by the popular imagination of ancient times to certain benevolent gods, either male or female, according to the mythological systems of the different countries.
Even the history of brewing in New England is not entirely free from this legendary element, although there is, indeed, no dearth of well-authenticated historical facts from the very moment when the new communities emerged from the primitive conditions of the earliest camp-life. There can be no doubt that on the soil of New England beer was consumed by people of European origin long before the landing of the Pilgrims. On their adventurous voyage of exploration, which resulted in the discovery of Vineland, the Vikings, it may safely be assumed, carried with them a supply of their favorite beverage; and there is more than an ordinary degree of internal probability in the assumption that Bartholomew Gosnold, who in 1602 landed at the point which he named Cape Cod, brought with him from Falmouth an ample supply of ale, which in those days was deemed an indispensable commissary article of every ship destined for the New World. The fact that Gosnold’s party—the first Englishmen who trod upon Massachusetts soil—looked forward to a permanent settlement, lends additional force to our view. It may also be safely assumed that malt liquor was brought by all the exploring expeditions that touched the coast, or attempted settlements thereon; and this certainly applies to the party of John Smith, to whom we owe both the name and a printed description of New England.
THE MAYFLOWER’S
ALE
Concerning the Pilgrims of the “Mayflower,” history affords ample evidence that they carried with them a supply of good old English ale, the brewing of which they had continued in Holland, according to their own method and formula. At this point, however, legendary fiction appears to have invaded the sacred domain of Clio. It is said that this supply of beer was exhausted somewhat earlier than the organizers of the migration scheme had anticipated, and that, therefore, a landing was effected at the rather uninviting spot since then immortalized in song and story as Plymouth Rock. Whether conceived in a facetious spirit, prompted by a knowledge of the Puritans’ well-known appreciation of liquid cheer, or based, as it is claimed, upon the semi-historical authority of a private diary, the story is characteristic enough in all its bearings to be true; and, if it were so, what a splendid illustration it would be of the old axiom, that in history very insignificant causes sometimes produce most marvelous effects!
It is an historical fact that Robinson’s stout-hearted flock of “Separatists,” while yet at their first place of refuge in Holland, and considering, with all the seriousness of their character, the advisability of migrating to the Western World, were long undecided as to the course they should take; whether to accept the invitation of the Dutch to settle in New Amsterdam, or to avail themselves of the inducements held out by the Virginia Company, or finally, to create an independent community in New England. Even after their embarkation, it was not positively determined whether Virginia or New England should be their destination. Now it may easily be conceived that, in conjunction with the historically demonstrable causes of the landing at Plymouth, the lack of beer helped to accelerate a final resolution, and thus prevented a settlement in Virginia—a course which might have turned the subsequent current of our national development into a direction totally different from that which led us on to political, moral and physical greatness. If we duly consider what all historians are agreed upon, namely, that the people of that part of the mother-country whence the New England colonists originally emigrated, still represented, in a remarkable degree of purity, the old Teutonic stock—German tinged with Northman’s blood—we may be all the more inclined to accept this beer story seriously; at all events, we shall understand perfectly what history tells us of the colonial brewer and his place in the infant society.
THE
FIRST
BREWERY
The first authentic record of the existence of a public brewery dates back to 1637, so far as Massachusetts Bay, and to 1638, so far as Rhode Island is concerned; the former brewery was the result of the personal enterprise of Captain Sedgwick, the latter a communal creation of Roger Williams’ nascent colony, a combined brew-house and tavern, placed under the supervision of Sergeant Baulston. These were not the first brewers, however, for, some time before either of them was mentioned, the licensed tavern-keepers had obtained permission to brew, or rather, to speak more correctly, were directed by the governing authorities to brew beer, of which both the quality and the price formed the subjects of early legislation and regulation. In addition to these brewing tapsters, as we might style them, nearly every well-to-do housewife brewed beer for her own household consumption. While the domestic manufacture of distilled liquors, carried on in a most primitive way, was not likely to be neglected by a people whose drinking habits were quite as conspicuous as their piety, valor, endurance, prowess and moral rectitude, the early local histories and laws afford abundant proof that the best minds earnestly endeavored to stem the growing predilection for ardent spirits by bestowing fostering care upon brewing and malting.
The first regulative measure of this kind, the very one which unwisely gave to the afore-mentioned Captain Sedgwick a monopoly of brewing strong beer, was conceived in this spirit, and a subsequent law (1639) restoring to all tavern-keepers the right to brew all kinds of malt liquors, without any restraint whatever, at the same time restricting the sale of ardent spirits to one person in each town, such persons to be appointed upon the recommendation of their respective town authorities, reveals in a palpable manner the objects of the lawmakers.
SOME
ILLUSTRIOUS
BREWERS
The social standing both of the public brewer and the brewing tavern-keeper must have been a very exalted one; and for this assertion there is a strong and direct evidence, not only in the fact that only voters and church members, men distinguished by their godliness and exemplary deportment, could obtain the right to brew and dispense beer, but also in the still more significant provision of the earlier laws making the licensed persons responsible for the moral conduct of their guests and admonishing them to discountenance upon their premises any practices “not to be tolerated by such as are bound by solemn covenant to walk by the rule of God’s word.”