Oft known the deadly fever’s flame, By the scorch’d patient crav’d, to tame.
[74] Chambers’s Journal, Jan. 2nd, 1875.
In Sir J. Sinclair’s Statistical Account, an extraordinary case is related of a collier, named Hunter, who suffered from chronic rheumatism or gout. He had been confined to his bed for a year and a half, having almost entirely lost the use of his limbs. On Handsel Monday (the first Monday after New Year’s Day) some of his neighbours came to make merry with him. Though he could not rise, yet he always took his share of the new ale, as it passed round the company; and, in the end, became much intoxicated. The consequence was that he had the use of his limbs the next morning, and was able to walk about. He lived more than twenty years after this, and never had the smallest return of his complaint. This took place in 1758.
An account of a cure, in which, no doubt, faith helped the ale, occurs in the Merrie Conceited Jests of George Peele, gentleman, sometime student at Oxford (London, 1607). “Riding on his way to Oxford, he stopped all night at Mekham—At supper, he began to talk with the hostess, who was a simple professor of Chirurgerie, and conceited therewith.—Peele observing her humour and conceit, upheld all the strange cures she talked of and praised her, with much flattery, and promised on his return to teach her something that would do her no hurt—and added he was on his way to cure a gentleman in Warwickshire, who was in a consumption. The hostess immediately {417} said there was a gentleman close by so ill with that complaint, and proposed that Peele should see him. Peele, knowing as much of doctoring as of music, declined; but after much pressure, and resisting as long as he could, was fain to comply. Putting on a bold face he went to the gentleman, his hostess praising him as a wonderful doctor. After feeling the pulse, &c., &c., he asked if they had a garden. Yes, they had. He then went there and cut from every plant, flower, herb and blossom; boiling the results in Ale, straining and boiling again. He told the patient to take some of this warm, morning, noon, and night. Whether anything effective was in this Herbal Mixture, or from the patient’s fancy—in eight days after the patient was able to walk about apparently recovered—and so delighted that he put many pounds in Peele’s pocket.”
A Brown ale called Stitch is mentioned in The London and County Brewer of 1744 as having being of the greatest benefit in incipient consumption. It was of the first running of the malt, but of a greater length than is drawn out of the stout butt beer. It had few hops in it. Instances of the advantage of good malt liquors in certain cases of consumption are very numerous. Mons. Frémy, of the Beaujon Hospital, in Paris, made a series of experiments with malt powder given in the form of a decoction, and externally by means of baths. The substance was tried on sixty-four subjects of well-marked phthisis; but the results were trifling, beyond a certain degree of temporary amelioration. It was, however, of greater service in cases of chronic bronchitis, early phthisis, and chronic pulmonary catarrh; its utility being very marked in this last affection. In some parts of England it is a common practice for persons in consumption to procure wort (that is an infusion of malt before the hops are boiled with it for making beer) from the brewers, and to drink half-a-pint of it daily; and many have received great benefit from it. The experiments of Dr. Frémy verify the utility of the English practice.
Of late years various preparations of malt have come to hold a very high place in popular estimation. A first-rate remedy for a cough is made thus: Over half a bushel of pale ground malt pour as much hot, but not boiling, water as will just cover it. In forty-eight hours drain off the liquor entirely, but without squeezing the grains: put the former into a large sweetmeat pan, or saucepan, that there may be room to boil as quick as possible, without boiling over; when it begins to thicken, stir constantly. It must be as thick as treacle. The dose is a dessert-spoonful thrice a day. This preparation has a very agreeable {418} flavour. One of the most easily digested and most nourishing of foods for those minute but assertive, atoms of humanity called babies,[75] is malt finely powdered; and chemists keep many kinds of foods, syrups, lozenges, &c., too numerous to mention, all claiming their origin from Sir John Barleycorn.
[75] The author knows a malt-fed baby who never cries.—Verb. Sap.
Among the many virtues of good ale, that of promoting generosity should take a high place. This peculiar effect is capitally illustrated in an anecdote of the Rev. Michael Hutchinson, D.D., of Derby. “The people,” writes Hutton, “to whom he applied for subscriptions (the church was in need of repair) were not able to keep their money; it passed from their pockets to his own as if by magic. Whenever he could recollect a person likely to contribute to this desirable work he made no scruple to visit him at his own expense. If a stranger passed through Derby, the Doctor’s bow and his rhetoric were employed in the service of the church. His anxiety was urgent, and his power so prevailing, that he seldom failed of success. When the waites fiddled at his door for a Christmas box, instead of sending them away with a solitary shilling, he invited them in, treated them with a tankard of ale, and persuaded them out of a guinea.”
Malt liquor has long been regarded by eminent medical men as almost a specific against the scurvy, that dread disease which in former times wrought such havoc amongst our brave tars. Sir Gilbert Blane, M.D., records the following instance of the virtues of porter in this connection:—
“I was furnished,” he writes, in his Observations on the Diseases of Seamen, “by Dr. Clephane, physician to the fleet at New York, with the following fact as a strong proof of the excellence of this liquor: In the beginning of the war two store ships, called the Tortoise and Grampus, sailed for America under the convoy of the Dædalus frigate. The Grampus happened to be supplied with a sufficient quantity of porter to serve the whole passage, which proved very long. The other two ships were furnished with the common allowance of spirits. The weather being unfavourable, the passage drew out to fourteen weeks and, upon their arrival at New York, the Dædalus sent to the hospital a hundred and twelve men; the Tortoise sixty-two; the greater part of whom were in the last stage of the scurvy. The Grampus sent only thirteen, none of whom had the scurvy.” {419}