Many of you will have heard of the London Beer Flood of 1814. At least eight people were killed by a veritable tsunami of beer that was released onto the streets of St Giles, London after the iron rings around a huge wooden fermentation tank at the Horse Shoe brewery, operated by Meux and Company, snapped causing the vessel to rupture. More than 320,000 gallons of beer were released into the densely populated slum area neighbouring the brewery. It was reported the wave reached 15 feet in height.
However, this was not the only brewing accident that is recorded in the 19th century by a long chalk. Brewers were at risk of significant injury in the course of their work – a reminder to us of the incredible value of health and safety legislation in keeping the industry safer, although still not without risk, today. The tales that we know of from the 1800s are mere snippets, gleaned from the records of inquests or newspaper articles of the day, but they show us that industrial accidents can and did happen in even the smallest of breweries.
The North Devon Journal published records of inquests taken into suspicious or unexplained deaths. In February 1865 reported on a “frightful accident” in Exeter. As an aside, these sorts of records are also interesting because they show us pubs were the location for the administration of so many aspects of local justice in the 19th century, as evidenced by Charles Dickens himself: “The coroner frequents more public houses than any man alive. The smell of sawdust, beer, tobacco-smoke, and spirits is inseparable in his vocation from death in its most awful shapes.” Bleak House.
In this particular case in Devon, the inquest at the Valiant Soldier Inn examined the body of 20-year-old Henry Chace, an assistant brewer at the nearby Bull Inn. Poor Henry had accidentally fallen into a full mash tun “while mounting some steps”.
“He was taken out as speedily as possible,” the report read, “and his clothes stripped off him; and was conveyed at once to the Devon and Exeter Hospital, where he was received by the house-surgeon, Mr Huxley, who did all that was possible for him. The scalds, however, were so severe that it was foreseen from the first that the accident must terminate fatally; and after lingering for a day in great suffering he died early on Wednesday morning. The body presented a frightful appearance.”
Mr Chace’s accidental death was not an isolated incident. An inquisition held at the King’s Arms in “Charles-street, Goswell-street-road” (possibly a Central London location) in 1818 also ruled a verdict of accidental death for the demise of Joseph Kirkman, the son of the brewer, who was killed by falling into the malt mill. Surely a grizzly end indeed.
We may also read, in the Blackburn Standard of February 1848, of the death of one George Duckworth, brewer at the Hall Inn in Burnley. He again was scalded to death by falling into the mash tun.
“It is supposed he had got upon the mash tun with his feet,” the article said, “and was about to turn the tap from the boiler, when he lost his footing among the grains and boiling water.” Although he was able to extricate himself from the situation and medical assistance was speedily sought, he passed away from his injuries a few hours later.
George’s case again flags our interest in other areas, because the reporter notes that he was deaf and dumb – perhaps one to note for future research into the visibility and inclusion of people with disabilities in the historic brewing industry.
Which leads me to my final case, Miss Jane Hancock of the Rising Sun Inn in St Mawes, Cornwall. She was the publican and brewer at the pub in the mid-19th century before she passed away peacefully at the age of 80 in February 1864. But she too had the misfortune to fall into a full mash tun.
A couple of grainy sepia photos of Miss Hancock show us that while she was able to survive the accident and live on for many decades, she was left with significant scarring. The burns are evident in the disfigurement of her face and hands – the only parts of her body that are visible thanks to the modest dress of the period.
Again, Jane’s story offers us insight into the way people with significant injuries sometimes were able to reintegrate into their work roles in this period. Doubtless industrial accidents of all shades were reasonably common, and the need to feed one’s family did not suddenly disappear with them. Food for thought, perhaps, at how people who suffer life-changing injuries today might perhaps be treated more equitably across society today.
