Chapter V. The Glastonbury Peg Tankard, illustrated in the cut, is made

of oak. On the lid is a representation of the Crucifixion, and round the sides are the figures of the Apostles. It contains two quarts, and is divided with eight pegs. {395} While engaged on this subject of measured drinks, it may also be mentioned that hoops were used as well as pegs by the old topers, and hence the promise of Jack Cade that “the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops.” From the same fact is derived the old phrase, “carousing the hunter’s hoop,” signifying a prolonged drinking bout. In certain parts of Essex it has been customary, until quite recently, for topers to drink out a pot of ale in three equal draughts, and with some ceremony; the first draught was called _neckum_, the second _sinkum_, and the third _swankum_. Passing on to mediæval times, We find, as might have been expected, a great increase of variety in the drinking vessels in common use. The tankard, which was one of the chief vessels used for ordinary drinking purposes, was originally a vessel containing three gallons, and used, not to drink out of, but to carry water in. Before Sir Hugh Middleton brought the New River water into London, the inhabitants were supplied by the tankard bearers. The tankard was usually made of metal and the common use of pewter in the fifteenth century is shown by an extract from a letter of that period, in which the recipient is reminded, that “If ye be at home this Christmas, it were well done ye should do purvey a garnish or twain of pewter vessel.” The _hanap_ was a kind of first cousin to the tankard, it came down from Saxon times, and the name is found in old Vocabularies under the form _hnæp_. The minds of the learned have been greatly exercised as to the connection of this word hanap with our word hamper, and with the older form still found in the term, the Hanaper Office. We would humbly suggest that the old work of Alexander Neckam, to which we have already had occasion to refer, makes the matter tolerably clear. The writer, in describing the contents of a cellar, mentions _ciphi_ and _cophini_, which of course mean _cups_ and _baskets_. An ancient annotator, however, gives us just the hint we want by writing in the MS. over the word _ciphi_ “anaps,” and over _cophini_ “anapers.” The hanap therefore was the cup, the hanaper or hamper was the basket in which the cups were carried. As an example of the number and value of the various drinking vessels in use, the following extracts are given from an inventory of the goods of Sir John Fastolfe, who died in 1459: Item j payre galon Bottels of one sorte.  — j payre of potell Bottellys one sorte.  — j nother potell Bottell—Item 1 payre Quartletts of one sorte. Item iiij galon pottis of lether—Item iij Pottelers of lether. Item j grete tankard. {396} Item ij grete and hoge botellis.  — ij Pottis of silver, percell gilte and enameled with violetts and dayseys.  — ij Pottes of sylver, of the facion of goods enamelyd on the toppys withe hys armys. Leather was a very usual material for drinking vessels in former times, and black-jacks were to be seen in every village alehouse. Many such are still to be found in various parts of the country, though they are not now used. The venerable song the _Leather Bottel_ is too well known to bear repetition, but a verse or two of _Time’s Alterations or the Old Man’s Rehersal_, an ancient black-letter ballad, may be given to show the common use of the leather drinking vessel:— Black jacks to every man Were filled with wine and beer; No pewter pot nor can In those days did appear: Good cheer in a nobleman’s house Was counted a seemly shew; We wanted no brawn nor souse, When this old cap was new. We took not such delight In cups of silver wine; None under the degree of a Knight In plate drunk beer or wine: Now each mechanical man Hath a cupboard of plate for a shew; Which was a rare thing then, When this old cap was new. Taylor, the water poet, in his _Jack a Lent_, makes mention of these vessels (A.D. 1630):— ——— nor of Jacke Dogge, Jack Date, Jacke foole, or Jack a Dandy, I relate: Nor of Black Jacks at gentle Buttry bars, Whose liquor often breeds household wars: A variety of Black Jack was the Bombard, to which Ben Jonson refers in the lines from the _Masque of Love Restored_. “With that {397} they knocked hypocrisy on the pate and made room for a bombard-man, that brought bouge[73] for a country lady or two, that fainted, he said, with fasting.” Shakspere calls Falstaff “that swollen parcel or dropsies, that huge bombard of sack.” “Baiting of bombard” was a slang term for heavy drinking. Small Jacks were also in use. Decker, in his _English Villaines Seven Times Pressed to Death_, says: “In some places they have little leather Jacks, tip’d with silver, and hung with small silver bells (these are called Gyngle-Boyes), to ring peales of drunkennesse.” [73] bouge = an allowance of meat and drink. The Black Jack was frequently taken for a sign. The house with that sign-board in Clare Market, London, was once the haunt of Joe Miller, of comic fame, and from the window of this tavern Jack Sheppard is said to have made a desperate leap, in escaping from the clutches of Jonathan Wild and his myrmidons. Heywood, in his _Philocothonista or Drunkard Opened, Dissected and Anatomized_ (1635), gives a very full list of the various drinking vessels in use in his day. “Of drinking cups,” he says, “divers and sundry sorts we have; some of elme, some of box, some of maple, some of holly, etc. Mazers, broad-mouthed dishes, naggins, whiskins, piggins, creuzes, ale-bowles, wassel-bowles, court dishes, tankards, kannes, from a pottle to a pint, from a pint to a gill. Other bottles we have of leather, but they are mostly used amongst the shepherds and harvest people of the countrey; small jacks we have in many ale houses of the citie and suburbs tipt with silver: black-jacks and bombards at the court; which when the Frenchmen first saw, they reported at their return unto their country that the Englishmen used to drink out of their bootes. We have besides cups made of horns of beastes, of cockernuts, of goords, of eggs of estriches; others made of the shells of divers fishes brought from the Indies and other places, and shining like mother of pearle. Come to plate, every tavern can afford you flat bowles, french bowles, prounet cups, beare bowles, beakers; and private householders in the citie, when they make a feast to entertain their friends, can furnish their cupboards with flagons, tankards, beere cups, wine bowles, some white, some percell guilt, some guilt all over, some with covers, others without, of sundry shapes and qualities.” During the religious feuds that raged so fearfully in Holland, the Protestant party gave the name of _Bellarmines_ to the bearded jugs {398} they used. This was done in ridicule of their opponent, Cardinal Bellarmine. The Cardinal’s figure was stout and squat, and well suited the form of the stone beer-jug in use. To make the resemblance more complete, the Cardinal’s face with his great square-cut beard was placed in front of the jug, which became known in England as the _Bellarmine_ or _Greybeard_ Jug. Many fragments of these jugs, of the reign of Elizabeth and James the First, have been exhumed, and the jug entire is not uncommon. Ben Jonson, alluding to the Greybeard, says of a drunkard that “the man with the beard has almost struck up his heels,” and an excellent description of this quaint old jug is to be found in Cartwright’s play _The Ordinary_ (1651):— ——thou thing Thy very looks like to some strutting hill, O’ershadow’d with thy rough beard like a wood; Or like a larger jug that some men call A Bellarmine, but we a conscience, Wheron the tender hand of Pagan workman Over the proud ambitious head hath carved An idol large, with beard episcopal. The Greybeard Jug is still to be found in some parts of Scotland, and the following tale, in which it figures, was taken down some years ago from the conversation of a Scotch Church dignitary. About 1770 there flourished a Mrs. Balfour, of Denbog, in the County of Fife. The nearest neighbour of Denbog was a Mr. David Paterson, who had the character of being a good deal of a humorist. One day, when Paterson came to the house, he found Mrs. Balfour engaged in one of her half-yearly brewings, it being the custom in those days, each March and October, to make as much ale as would serve for the ensuing six months. She was in a great pother about bottles, her stock of which fell far short of the number required, and she asked Mr. Paterson if he could lend her any? “No,” said Paterson, “but I think I could bring you a few greybeards that would hold a good deal, perhaps that would do.” The lady assented, and appointed a day when he should come again and bring his greybeards with him. On the proper day Mr. Paterson made his appearance, in Mrs. Balfour’s parlour. “Well, Mr. Paterson, have you brought your greybeards?” “O, yes, they are down stairs waiting for you.” “How many?” “Nae less than ten.” {399} “Well I, hope they are pretty large, for really I find I have a great deal more Ale than I have bottles for.” “I’se warrant ye, Mem, ilka ane o’ them will hold twelve gallons.” “O, that will do extremely well.” Down goes the lady. “I left them in the dining-room,” said Paterson. When the lady went in she found ten of the most bibulous old lairds of the North of Fife. She at once perceived the joke, and entered into it. After a hearty laugh had gone round, she said she thought it would be as well to have dinner before filling the greybeards, and it was accordingly arranged that the gentlemen should take a ramble and come in to dinner at two o’clock. The extra ale is understood to have been duly disposed of. Closely allied to the Greybeard was the Toby Philpot beer jug; it was, however, a more elaborate article, and represented the whole figure of a portly toper. Its origin is thus described in the humorous verses entitled _Toby Philpot_, by Francis Fawkes:— Dear Tom, this brown jug, which now foams with mild ale, Out of which I now drink to sweet Nan of the Vale, Was once Toby Philpot, a thirsty old soul, As e’er crack’d a bottle, or fathom’d a bowl: In bousing about, ’twas his pride to excel, And amongst jolly topers he bore off the bell. It chanc’d as in dog days he sat at his ease, In his flower-woven arbour, as gay as you please, With his friend and a pipe, puffing sorrow away, And with honest Old Stingo sat soaking his clay, His breath-doors of life on a sudden were shut, And he died full as big as a Dorchester Butt. His body when long in the ground it had lain, And time into clay had dissolv’d it again, A potter found out, in its covert so snug, And with part of Fat Toby he form’d this brown jug: Now sacred to friendship, to mirth, and mild Ale— So here’s to my lovely sweet Nan of the Vale. The wooden ale bowls used by the Saxons continued common in England for many a century, and constant reference to them is to be {400} found. In the _Miller of Mansfield_ King Henry II. is represented drinking out of a brown bowl: This caus’d the King, suddenlye, to laugh most heartilye, Till the teares trickled fast downe from his eyes. Then to their supper were they set orderlye, With hot bag puddings, and good apply pyes; Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle, Which did about the board merrilye trowle. At the time when the _Liber Albus_ was composed (1419), the gallons, pottles and quarts used in the City of London were made of wood, as may be judged from the fact that they are mentioned as shrinking if they were stamped when _green_. Dryden mentions the brown bowl as characteristic of the country life:— The rich, tir’d with continual feasts, For change become their next poor tenant’s guests; Drink heavy draughts of Ale from plain brown bowls, And snatch the homely Rasher from the coals. Mr. Pepys records that on the 4th of January, 1667, he had company to dinner; and “at night to sup, and then to cards, and last of all to have a flagon of ale and apples, drank out of a wood cup, as a Christmas draught, which made all merry.” Brown bowls were also the drinking vessels used in singing the old song, _The Barley Mow_ “which cannot,” says Bell “be given in words, it should be heard to be appreciated properly, particularly with the West Country dialect.” Here’s a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys, Here’s a health to the barley-mow! We’ll drink it out of the jolly brown bowl, Here’s a health to the barley-mow! Chorus:—Here’s a health to the barley-mow, my brave boys, Here’s a health to the barley-mow! We’ll drink it out of the nipperkin, boys. Here’s, &c. and so it proceeds, “quarter-pint,” “half-pint,” “pint,” “quart,” “pottle,” “gallon,” “half-anker,” “anker,” “half-hogshead,” “hogshead,” “pipe,” “well,” “river,” “ocean,” always in the third line repeating the whole of the previously-named “measures” backwards. {401} Among curious drinking vessels must be classed the Wager or Puzzle Jugs, which, in the seventeenth century, were great favourites at village inns. Some are to be seen in the South Kensington Museum. These jugs had usually many spouts, from most of which it was difficult to drink owing to perforations in the neck. But a secret passage for the liquor up the hollow handle or through one spout or nozzle afforded a means of sucking out the contents, the fingers of the drinker stopping up the other spouts and holes during the operation. On many of these jugs were inscriptions, such as— From Mother Earth I claim my birth, I’m made a joke to man, But now I’m here, fill’d with good beer Come, taste me if you can. One more curious drinking vessel must be mentioned, and then this short account of a subject upon which a large volume might well be written, must close. The “Ale-yard” has been described by a writer in _Notes and Queries_ as “a trumpet-shaped glass vessel, exactly a yard in length, the narrow end being closed, and expanded into a large ball. Its internal capacity is little more than a pint, and when filled with ale many a thirsty tyro has been challenged to empty it without taking away his mouth. This is no easy task. So long as the tube contains fluid it flows out smoothly, but when air reaches the bulb it displaces the liquor with a splash, startling the toper, and compelling him involuntarily to withdraw his mouth by the rush of the cold liquid over his face and dress.” The Ale-yard is known at Eton under the name of the “Long Glass.” Those boys who attain to a certain standing either as Dry Bobs or Wet Bobs (_i.e._, in the boats or at cricket) are invited to attend “Cellar,” which is held at “Tap” once a week during the summer term. On attending the first time the novice has to “floor the Long Glass” (_i.e._, to finish it without drawing breath). Many have to make several attempts, and some never succeed. It is, no doubt, generally supposed that the uses of ale other than as a drink are but few in number, yet malt liquors have been applied to a variety of queer purposes. From a letter of Pope Gregory to Archbishop Nidrosiensi, of Iceland, it would seem that in the thirteenth century children were sometimes baptized in ale instead of water. “Forasmuch as we learn from your letter that it has sometimes {402} happened that infants in your country have been baptized in ale owing to the lack of water in that region, we return in answer that since the heart ought to be born again of water and the Holy Spirit, those ought not to be considered as duly baptized who have been baptized in ale. “Given at the Lateran VIII. Idus Julii, anno XV.” In another letter of an earlier date (1237) the use of ale in the administration of the Eucharist was forbidden, though Nashe, speaking of the Icelanders in his _Terrors of the Night_ (1594), says: “It is reported that the Pope long since gave them a dispensation to receive the Sacrament in ale, since owing to their incessant frosts there, no wine but was turned to red emagle” (_i.e._, enamel) “as soone as euer it came amongst them.” To leave Theology for the Stable, it is worth recording that it is alleged that during the King’s progress through the country, in Norman times, such was the extravagance and waste of the royal household that the servants even washed the horses’ feet in ale. Grooms at the present day often mix ale with lampblack and oil for rubbing on the hoofs of horses. Possibly this was all that was done by the royal grooms. Ancient chroniclers are notoriously inaccurate. None appreciate good ale more than anglers, and this is clearly evidenced in the following receipt, written by Christopher North, for staining gut or hair lines a pale watery green:—“To a pint of strong ale add (as soon as possible, as it is so apt to evaporate when good) half-a-pound of soot, a small quantity of walnut leaves, and a little powdered alum (then drink the remaining pint of ale, if you happen to have drawn a quart); boil these materials for half or three-quarters of an hour, and when the mixture is cold, steep the gut or hair in it for ten or twelve hours.” Yes, good ale is apt to evaporate very quickly; the moral is obvious. Dame Juliana Berners, in _The Treatyse of Fysshynge wyth an Angle_, gives two receipts “to coloure your lynes of here,” in which ale is used. One consists of ale and alum, the other of ale and soot. When every county had its monasteries, and every monastery its fish stew well stocked with fine carp for Fridays’ dinners, the fattening of fish was a matter of no little importance. In an old angling book it is stated that “Raspins and Chippins of Bread, or almost any scraps from the Table, placed under a cask of strong Beer or Ale, in such a manner that the Droppings of the Liquor may fall among them, is excellent Food for Carp. Two quarts of this is sufficient for thirty, and if they are fed Morning and Evening it will be better than once a Day only.” Stilton {403} cheeses, by the way, treated in a similar manner to that directed for the “Raspins,” are immensely improved in flavour and general excellence. Brewers’ grains are greedily eaten by most kinds of freshwater fish, and are used by anglers as groundbait for bream, roach, and carp in the Eastern counties. In a work entitled _Practical Economy_, published in 1821, persons desirous of fattening their fowls quickly are recommended to feed them on ground-rice, milk and sugar, made into a paste, and to let them drink beer. The ladies who preside over the culinary department of our households do not, so far as we know, make any use of ale other than as a drink, excepting the occasional use of beer in the preparation of Welsh rare-bits. From old cookery books, however, we gather that this has not always been the case. Beer mixed with brown sugar was a favourite sauce for pancakes; red herrings were steeped in small beer before being broiled; and catsup for sea stores was made principally of beer and vinegar, a few mushrooms being added for conscience’ sake. Then, from the same source, we find that beer has other domestic uses. An admirable method of cleaning crape is to steep it in beer, wring it gently, and hang it out to dry; stale beer formed, and still forms, the liquid part of the best blacking; ale or beer plus elbow grease makes capital furniture polish; and, leaving the interior of the house, beer grounds have been used for washing the outside of walls and houses covered with cement to harden the latter, a change which they are said likewise to effect on bricks and mortar. Beer mixed with brown sugar or honey is usually rubbed over the interiors of hives in which swarms of bees are intended to be taken. A bunch of mint and other sweet herbs forms the brush to spread the mixture. Not only is the sweet dressing agreeable to the taste and smell, but the beer has doubtless a lulling and soporific effect on the bees, and renders them less anxious to leave their new abode. In the medicine books of the Saxon Leeches are references to the use of ale in the composition of various lotions. Ale and beer are, indeed, often prescribed by medical practitioners of the present day, as will be seen by a perusal of Chapter XV. The valuable properties of bitter beer as an incentive to appetite and a promoter of digestion, and the nourishing qualities of the brown beers, are too well known to need comment. In many breweries large quantities of vinegar are manufactured from malt liquor. This is an ancient practice, for in the City of London {404} Records of the time of Good Queen Bess it is stated that officials were appointed to search the premises of the brewers for “vyneagre, bear-eagre and ale-eagre,” and to report to the Common Council touching the same. The words “beare-eagre” and “ale-eagre” have now gone out of use, and the acid liquid made from malt liquor is improperly called Vinegar though in no way connected with the Vine. A use of ale, which is additional rather than alternative to the common one, is commemorated by the old proverb, “Fair chieve good ale, it makes folk speak what they think.” Another such supplementary use, but of a character less commendable, is expressed in the ancient couplet:— The Good Noppy Ale of Southwerk Keeps many a goodwife from the Kirk. Moore, in his _Odes of Anacreon_, sings the praise of ale as an incentive to literary labours:— If with water you fill up your glasses, You’ll never write anything wise, For Ale is the horse of Parnassus Which hurries a bard to the skies. The following curious lines, copied from a MS. in the Cottonian Library, indicate some other supplementary uses, or to speak more correctly, the unwished-for effects of the strong ale in which our forefathers indulged:— Doll thi, doll, doll, doll this ale, dole, Ale mak many a man to have a doly poll. Ale mak many a mane to styk at a brere; Ale mak many a mane to ly in the myere; And ale mak many a mane to stombyl at a stone; Ale mak many a mane to dronken home; And ale mak many a mane to brek his tone; With doll. Ale mak many a mane to draw hys knyfe; Ale mak many a mane to bet hys wyf. With doll. Ale mak many a mane to wet hys chekes, * * * * * {405} Ale mak many a mane to stomble in the blokkis; Ale mak many a mane to mak hys hed have knokkes, And ale mak many a mane to syt in the stokkes. With doll. Ale mak many a mane to ryne over the falows; Ale mak a mane to swere by God and alhalows And ale mak many a mane to hang upon the galows. With doll. A strange use of good liquor was that which anciently prevailed of partly intoxicating criminals before execution. The ladies of Jerusalem used to provide such a potion, consisting of frankincense and wine. There is a curious similarity between this custom and the old practice of giving to condemned men on their way to Tyburn Tree, a great bowl of ale as their last earthly refreshment. It is stated in Hone’s _Year Book_ that a court on the south side of the High Street, St. Giles’, derives its name of Bowl Yard from the circumstance of criminals on their way to execution being presented with a bowl of ale at the Hospital of St. Giles. Different maxims came ultimately to prevail in reference to this matter, and we are told that Lord Ferrers, when on his way to execution in 1760, for the murder of his land steward, was denied his request for some wine and water, the Sheriff stating that he was sorry to be obliged to refuse his lordship, but by recent regulations they were enjoined not to let prisoners drink when going to execution, as great indecencies had been frequently committed in these cases, through the criminals becoming intoxicated. The old saying that the “Saddler of Bawtry was hanged for leaving his liquor,” arose from the following circumstances: Being sick at heart from his impending death, the Saddler refused the bowl of ale offered him on his way to the gallows. One minute after the poor fellow’s last struggle his reprieve arrived, so that had he but tarried to drink the ale he had been saved. Very different was the fortune of the Tinkler who had the good luck to meet ——King Jamie, the first of our throne A pleasanter monarch sure never was known. The little incident is best told in the words of the old ballad:— As he (the King) was a hunting the swift fallow deer, He dropped all his nobles; and when he got clear, {406} In hope of some pastime away he did ride Till he came to an ale-house, hard by a wood side. And there with a Tinkler he happened to meet, And him in kind sort he so freely did greet: “Pray thee, good fellow, what hast in thy jug, Which under thy arm thou dost lovingly hug?” “By the mass!” quoth the Tinkler, “it’s nappy brown ale, And for to drink to thee, friend, I will not fail; For although thy jacket looks gallant and fine, I think my twopence as good as is thine.” “By my soul! honest fellow, the truth thou has spoke,” And straight he sat down with the Tinkler to joke; They drank to the King and they pledged to each other; Who’d seen ’em had thought they were brother and brother. In their merry conversation the Tinkler remarks that the King is on the border chasing deer, and that he would much like to see a King. James immediately says he will show him one, if he will but mount behind him. This the Tinkler does, “with his sack, his budget of leather and tools at his back.” Doubts arising in his mind as to how he shall recognise the King, James tells him, “Thou’lt easily ken him when once thou art there; The King will be covered, his nobles all bare.” Together the two ride through the merry greenwood, and come upon the nobles, when the Tinkler again asks to be shown the King. The King did with hearty good laughter reply, “By my soul! my good fellow, its thou or its I! The rest are bare-headed, uncovered all round.” With his bag and his budget he fell to the ground, and beseeches mercy. Then says James— “Come tell me thy name?” “I am John of the Dale, A mender of kettles, a lover of ale.” “Rise up! Sir John, I will honour thee here, I make thee a Knight of three thousand a year.” {407} “This was a good thing for the Tinkler indeed,” writes the poet, who concludes with the verse:— Sir John of the Dale he has land, he has fee, At the Court of the King who so happy as he? Yet still in his hall hangs the Tinkler’s old sack, And the budget of tools which he bore at his back. There are two instances on record of ale being used to extinguish fire. One January in the seventeenth century occurred a devastating fire which burnt down the greater portion of the Temple in the neighbourhood of Pump Court. “The night was bitterly cold,” writes Mr. Jeafferson, in _Law and Lawyers_, “and the Templars, aroused from their beds to preserve life and property, could not get an adequate supply of water from the Thames, which the unusual severity of the season had frozen. In this difficulty _they actually brought barrels of ale from the Temple butteries, and fed the engines with the malt liquor_.” If the ale was old and potent the flare up thereof must have been great indeed. In the year 1613 the Globe Theatre was burnt down in consequence of the wadding from a cannon fired off during the performance of _Henry VIII._, setting fire to the thatched roof. Sir Henry Wotton, in a letter to his nephew giving an account of the occurrence, wrote: “One man had his breeches set on fire that perhaps had broiled him if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit put it out with bottle ale.” To what base uses may we return! [Illustration] {408} [Illustration]