Although brewing, as we have seen, was carried on during every month in the year for the commoner household uses, March and October were the favourite months for making strong ale, “the authenticall drinke of England, the whole barmy tribe of ale-cunners never layd their lips to the like.” The summer months were especially eschewed by those who wished to keep their liquor, and hence the old saying:—
“Bow-wow, dandy-fly, Brew no beer in July.”
“Oh! but my grandmother,” says Gluttony, in the Tragical History of Doctor Faustus, “she was a jolly gentlewoman, and well beloved in every good town and city; her name was Mistress Margery March Beer.”
“Ale and beere,” says Harrison, “beare the greatest brunt in {59} drincking, which are of so many sortes and ages as it pleases the brewar to make them. The beer that is used at noblemen’s tables, is commonly of a yeare olde, (or peradventure of twoo yeres tunning or more, but this is not general) it is also brued in Marche, and is therefore called Marche bere, but for the household it is usually not under a monethes age, eache one coveting to have the same as stale as he might, so that it was not soure.”
And a serious “brunt” it was if the following obituary notice, which appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine in 1810, may be taken as a sample of our fathers’ devotion to home-brew:—
“At the Ewes farm-house, Yorkshire, aged 76, Mr. Paul Parnell, farmer, grazier, and maltster, who, during his lifetime, drank out of one silver pint cup upwards of £2,000 sterling worth of Yorkshire Stingo, being remarkably attached to Stingo tipple of the home-brewed best quality. The calculation is taken at 2d. per cupful. He was the bon-vivant whom O’Keefe celebrated in more than one of his Bacchanalian songs under the appellation of Toby Philpott.”
The Journal of Timothy Burrell, Esquire, of Ockenden House, Cuckfield, Sussex, proves him to have been a true devotee of the rites of Ceres. With what particularity he mentions his purchases of malt and hops—“May 3, 1683. Quarter of malt, £1. . . . 23 July. For 28lbs. of hops I gave 7s. . . . October. I paid Jo. Warden for 30 bushels of malt, just 4 months, £4 3s.” Then with what care he notes the day on which he brewed, as thus—“3 May, 1702, Pandoxavi” and with what satisfaction the day on which he tapped the barrel,—“12 June Relinivi”—illustrating his manuscript as he goes along with quaint sketches of barrels, quart pots, pockets of hops and such-like. John Coachman, who seems to have been worthy Timothy’s servant for many years, frequently comes in for a remark by reason of his excessive devotion to the barley bree:—“Oct. 8th, 1698. Payd John Coachman, in full of his half year’s wages, to be spent in ale, £2 6s. 6d. I paid him for his breeches (to be drunk,) in part of his wages, 6s.” “Paid to John Coachman, in part of his wages, to be fooled away in syder or lottery, 5s.” “March 26th, 1710, I paid the saddler for John Coachman falling drunk off his box, when he was driving to Glynde, in part of his wages, £1 7s. 6d.” Rest well, honest Timothy, thy quaint pen is still, thy brewing days are over!
In Dean Swift’s Polite Conversations we have the following amusing dialogue on the subject of home-brew:—
Lady Smart. Pray, my lord, did you order the butler to bring {60} up a tankard of our October to Sir John? I believe they stay to brew it.
The butler brings up the tankard to Sir John.