USE AND IMPORTANCE OF HOPS IN BEER: THEIR INTRO­DUC­TION AND HIS­TORY. — HOP-GROW­ERS’ TROU­BLES. — MED­IC­INAL QUALITIES. — ECO­NOM­I­CAL USES. — HOP-PICK­ERS.

THE hops used in beer-brewing are the female flowers of the hop plant known to botanists as the Humulus lupulus of Linnæus. At first sight it may seem strange that hops and wolves should have anything in common, but it has been explained that the word lupulus comes from the name by which the Romans called the hop plant—Lupus Salictarius—the idea being that the hop was as destructive among the willows (where it grew) as a wolf among sheep. Though hops are now staple articles of a large commerce, and largely cultivated in England, America, Belgium, France, and our colonies, some few hundred years ago their valuable qualities were little known in this country.

How, when, and where the flowers of the hop plant were first used to give to beer its delicious flavour and keeping qualities, is not {66} accurately known. Pliny, in his Natural History, states that the Germans preserved ale with hops, and there is a Rabbinical tradition, referring to still earlier times, to the effect that the Jews, during their captivity in Babylon, found the use of hopped ale a protection against their old enemy, leprosy. In a letter of donations, the great King Pepin uses the word “Humuloria,” meaning hop gardens. Mesne, an Arabian physician, who wrote about the year 845, also mentions hops; and Basil Valentine, an alchemist of the 14th century, specifically refers to the use of the hop in beer. Dr. Thudichum, in his pamphlet, Alcoholic Drinks, tells us that in early days of beer production wild hops only were used, as is the practice at the present day in Styria, but that in some foreign countries the plant has been largely cultivated for nearly a thousand years. It is a well-known fact that in the eighth and ninth centuries, hop gardens, called Humuloria or Humuleta, existed in France and Germany.

That the hop was known to the English before the Conquest in some form or other, is proved by the reference to the hymele, or hop plant, in the Anglo-Saxon version of the Herbarium, of Apuleius. Although no trace of the word hymele now remains in our every-day language, it is found in Danish as “humle,” and is only the English form of the Latin humulus. The Herbarium just mentioned contains a remarkable passage with reference to “hymele.” “This wort,” it says, “is to that degree laudable that men mix it with their usual drinks.” The usual drinks of the English were undoubtedly malt liquors, and this passage would go far to show that even in Saxon times the hop was used in English brewing. Cockayne, the learned editor of Saxon Leechdoms, is inclined to this opinion, and he instances in confirmation of it that special mention is made of the hedge-hymele, as though there existed at that time a cultivated hop from which it had to be distinguished; he also cites the name Hymel-tun, in Worcestershire (now Himbleton), which he states is mentioned in Anglo-Saxon deeds, and which could hardly have signified anything less than hop yard. The word hopu (i.e., hops) also occurs in Saxon documents. Ewe-hymele is mentioned in Saxon Leechdoms, and would probably signify the female hop. In the year 822 there is a record that the millers of Corbay were freed by the abbot from all labours relating to hops, and a few years later hops are mentioned by Ludovicus Germanicus.

The introduction of hops into England has been generally assigned to the early part of the sixteenth century. The old but unreliable distich, {67}

points to a period subsequent to 1520 as the time when the great improvement of adding hops to malt liquors was first practised in this country. This rhyme probably refers to the settling of certain Flemings in Kent, to be mentioned anon, which no doubt gave a great impulse to the use of hops; it cannot well refer to their first introduction, as they were known in England for many years previously and were used in beer-brewing nearly a century before the Reformation.

In that curious old work the Promptorium Parvulorum (1440), which is, in fact, an old English-Latin dictionary, occur some passages which, when taken in conjunction with the London Records of a slightly later date, seem to show that the introduction of hops into English brewing (excepting their possible use in Saxon times) should be assigned to a period a little before the middle of the fifteenth century.

The word “hoppe” is defined as “sede for beyre. Humulus secundum extraneos.” “Bere” is defined as “a drynke. Humulina, vel humuli potus, aut cervisia hummulina.” The inference to be drawn from these passages is that hops and beer, in the sense of hopped ale, were known in England some time previous to the year 1440. The compiler, however, shows by his definition of “bere” as a “drynke,” that the word required some explanation, for when he mentions “ale,” he simply gives the Latin equivalent, “cervisia.” He certainly regarded beer as an interloper, as shown by his note on ale, “Et nota bene quod est potus Anglorum.” Four years after the date of the publication of the Promptorium, William Lounde and Richard Veysey were appointed inspectors or surveyors of the “bere-bruers” of the City of London, as distinguished from the ale-brewers who were at this time a company governed by a master and wardens. Ten years later an {68} ordinance for the government of the beer-brewers was sanctioned by the Lord Mayor. From this date the City Records contain frequent mention of the beer-brewers as distinct from the ale-brewers. However, beer, “the son of ale,” as an old writer calls it, did not rapidly attain popularity. Ten years after the date last referred to, the beer-brewers petitioned the Lord Mayor and “Worshipfull soveraignes the Aldermen” of the City of London, in these terms:—“To the full honourable Lord the Maire, etc. Shewen mekely unto youre good Lordshipp and maistershippes, the goode folke of this famous citee the which usen Bere-bruyng within the same, that where all mistiers and craftys of the sd citee have rules and ordenances by youre grete auctoritees for the common wele of this honourable citee made, and profite of the same craftys,” but the petitioners have none such rules, and therefore the citizens are liable to be imposed upon “in measure of barell, kilderkyns and firkyns, and in hoppes and other greynes the which to the said mistiere apperteynen. . . . It is surmysed upon them that often tymes they make their bere of unseasonable malt the which is of little prise and unholsome for mannes body for their singular availe, forasmuch as the comon peple for lacke of experience cannot know the perfitnesse of bere as wele as of the ale,” the petitioners pray that certain regulations of the trade may be established by authority. Passing over another period of twenty years, during which the City Records contain nothing to show whether hops and beer advanced or declined in popularity, we find that in the first year of Richard III. a petition was presented to Lord Mayor Billesdon, by the Brewers’ Company, showing “that whereas by the sotill and crafty means of foreyns36 dwelling withoute the franchises . . . . . a deceivable and unholsome fete in bruyng of ale within the said citee nowe of late is founde and practised, that is to say, in occupying and puttyng of hoppes and other things in the said ale, contrary to the good and holesome manner of bruynge of ale of old tyme used, . . . to the great deceite and hurt of the King’s liege people. . . . Pleas it therefore your saide good lordshyppe to forbid the putting into ale of any hops, herbs, or any other like thing, but onely licour, malte and yeste.” The petition is granted and a penalty of 6s. 8d. is laid on every barrel of ale so brewed contrary to the ancient use. This early use of the technical {69} term “licour,” or liquor, instead of water is noteworthy. We learn by a note in the Letter-book that the fine on putting hops into ale was shortly afterwards reduced to 3s. 4d. the barrel, while any other kind of adulteration is still to subject the offender to the full fine of 6s. 8d. It will have been observed that it is not the making of beer which is forbidden, but the putting of hops into ale, and selling the drink as ale. There is abundant evidence to show that beer continued to be made and sold with the sanction of the authorities, and that the beer-brewers, many of whom at this time were Dutchmen, practised a separate craft from that of the ale-brewers. Two years after the date of the last petition a regulation was made that no beer-brewer is to be “affered” (fined) more than 6s. 8d., nor an ale-brewer more than two shillings, for breaking the assize. The oath of the ale-searchers contains the following passage:—“Ye shall swear . . . to search and assay . . . that the ale be holsom, weell soden and able for mannes body, and made with none other stuff but only with holsom and clere ale-yest, watyr and malt, and such as you find unholsom for mannes body or brewed with any other thing except with watyr and malt, be it with rosen, hoppes, bere-yest, or any other craft, . . .” you shall duly report for punishment. In the same year it is recorded that the beer-brewers were ordered to use “gode clene, sweete, holsom greyne and hoppes,” and the rulers of the beer-brewers are to have powers of inspection of hops and other grains.

Prosecutions for the use of hops were frequent, but they were for putting hops into ale, and not for brewing beer. In the twelfth year of Henry VII., John Barowe was presented by the wardens of the brewers because he brewed ale with beer-yeast, “quod est corpori humano insalubre.” Nine years later Robert Dodworth, brewer’s servant, confessed that he had brewed “a burthen of ale in the house of his master in Fleet Street with hops, contrary to the laws and laudable acts and customs of the city.” In the tenth year of Henry VIII., William Shepherd, brewer’s servant to Philip Cooper, “occupying the feat of bruing,” made a deposition that he had “once since Michaelmas last brewed ale with hops, but that his master knew not of it,” but that he had heard that other servants had brewed with hops, “and that was the cause why he brewed with hoppes, and more he would not say.” Philip Cooper, however, was evidently suspected, for in the same records we find that he was compelled to bring into the Court “a standing cup with a cover of gylt with three red hearts in the bottom of the cup to stand to the order of the Court touching the brewing with hoppes.” On {70} payment of a fine of five shillings, his gage is ordered to be returned to him. Many other passages could be quoted from the City Records in support of the view that beer-brewing was not forbidden, but only the adulteration, as it was considered, of the old English ale with an admixture of hops. We have dwelt somewhat fully upon this part of the subject, as there appears to be an almost universal misconception as to the date of the introduction of hops into England, and as to their use having been for some time altogether prohibited by the law of the land. The only authority for this last mentioned idea, seems to be the statement of Fuller, in his Worthies of England, that hops were forbidden as the result of a petition which was presented in the time of Henry VI. against “the wicked weed called hops.” No statute to this effect is in existence, no record is to be found in the rolls of Parliament of any such petition, and the statement is in opposition to the evidence we have been able to collect on the subject.

About the year 1524 a large number of Flemish immigrants settled in Kent, cultivated hops and brewed beer, and soon caused that county to become famous for its hop gardens and the excellence of their produce. To these strangers is perhaps due the chief credit of having enlightened the British mind on the subject of bitter beer, and their advent is probably the event pointed to in the old couplet already quoted.

Among the numerous officials appointed to enforce the regulations of the City, were persons called hop-searchers, whose duty it was to search for defective hops, which, when found were burnt. Wriothesley’s Chronicle mentions that “on the 10th daie of September, 1551, was burned in Finsburie Field XXXI sacke and pokettes of hopps in the afternoune, being nought, and not holsome for man’s bodie, and condemned by an Act made by my Lord Maior and his bretheren the aldermen the 10th daie of September, at which court six comeners of the Cittie of London were apoynted to be serchers for a hole yeare for the said hopps; and they were sworne the fifth daie of this moneth and made search ymediatlie for the same.”

The popular taste is not a thing to be changed in a day, and at that happy period of history when railways, penny posts, newspapers, stump orators and other nineteenth-century methods of enlightenment were unknown and undreamt of, it may well be understood that the knowledge of this great improvement spread but slowly. Not only were the English slow to appreciate what the Flemings had done for them, but they believed that they were like to be poisoned by the new-fangled drink which was not in their eyes to be compared to the sweet and {71} thick, but honest and unsophisticated English ale. The writers of the day are loud in their abuse of beer. In the passages from Andrew Boorde’s Dyetary (1542), quoted in Chapter I. (p. 6), ale is described as being the natural drink of Englishmen, and made of malt and water, while beer, which is composed of malt, hops, and water, is the natural drink of a Dutchman, and of late is much used in England, to the great detriment of many Englishmen. There is a truly insular ring about this. We should like to enlighten old Andrew’s darkness by a draught of sparkling Burton. Boorde undoubtedly expresses the popular opinion of the period, for from Rastall’s Book of Entries we learn that an ale-man brought his action against his Brewer for spoiling his ale, by putting in it a certain weed called a hopp, and recovered damages. Even Harry the Eighth, who of all our kings was the greatest lover of good things—and a few bad ones—was blind to the merits of the hop, and enjoined the Royal brewer of Eltham that he put neither hops nor brimstone into the ale. Possibly sulphuring, of which a word or two anon, was then in use; we cannot otherwise account for the mention of brimstone. This was in 1530, only six years after the Flemings had settled in Kent.

Abused by medical writers as drink only fit for Dutchmen, objected to by the king, and disliked by the majority of the people, the song-writers of the day, of course, had a good deal to say against the new drink. In the High and Mightie Commendation of the Virtue of a Pot of Good Ale, it is hardly surprising to find the following lines:—

The ale-wives and brewers, however, were wiser than their customers, and, induced also by the fact that their hopped ale went not sour as of yore, stuck to their colours—nailed to a hop pole no doubt—and slowly but surely educated the taste of the people. It was, however, a long process.

Henry, in his History of England, vol. 6, referring to the Scottish diet about the end of the sixteenth century, writes:—

“Ale and gascony wines were the principal liquors; but mead, cyder, and perry were not uncommon. Hops were still scarce, and seldom employed in Ale, which was brewed therefore in small quantities, to be drunk while new. At the King’s table Ale was prohibited as unfit for use till five days old.”

From a whimsical old book, entitled Wine, Beer, Ale, and Tobacco, a dialogue, in which the two leading malt liquors of the day (1630) converse, and give their own views on the subject, it appears that even as late as the seventeenth century beer was little known in country districts, though popular in London.

Beer is introduced making a pun on his own name; he says to Wine, “Beere leave, sir.” The chief points in Ale’s argument, which is better than that of any of the others, are contained in the following passage:—“You, Wine and Beer, are fain to take up a corner anywhere—your ambition goes no farther than a cellar; the whole house where I am goes by my name, and is called Ale-house. Who ever heard of a Wine-house, or a Beer-house? My name, too, is, of a stately etymology—you must bring forth your latin. Ale, so please you, from alo, which signifieth nourish—I am the choicest and most luscious of potations.” Wine, Beer, and Ale at last compose their differences, each having a certain dominion assigned to him, and join in singing these lines:—

In the end Tobacco appears—He arrogates an equality with Wine—“You and I both come out of a pipe.” The reply is, “Prithee go smoke elsewhere.” “Don’t incense me, don’t inflame Tobacco,” he retorts; but is told, “No one fears your puffing—turn over a new leaf, Tobacco, most high and mighty Trinidado.” {73}

In an old play printed a few years later (1659) it is indicated that ale was still generally made without hops:—

If Defoe’s statement on the subject, in his Tour Through Great Britain, is correct, it must, indeed, have been many years before the use of hops made any headway in the northern portions of the kingdom. “As to the North of England,” he writes, “they formerly used but few Hops there, their Drink being chiefly pale smooth ale, which required no hops; and consequently they planted no hops in all that part of England North of Trent. . . . But as for some years past, they not only brew great quantities of Beer in the North, but also use hops in the brewing of their ale, much more than they did before, so they all come south of Trent to buy their hops.”

In the reign of Edward VI., by the Statute 5 and 6 Ed. VI. c. 5 (repealed 5 Eliz. c. 2), it was enacted that all land formerly in tillage should again be cultivated, excepting “land set with saffron or hops.” This is, we believe, the first mention of hops in the Statute book. The next Act on the subject was one passed in 1603, by which regulations were made for the curing of hops, which process had thenceforward to be carried out under the inspection of the officers of excise. From a petition presented by the Brewers’ Company to Lord Burleigh, a few years previously (1591), we learn that the price of hops was then £3 16s. 8d. to £4 10s. 6d. per cwt., instead of 6s. 8d. as formerly, and was, the Brewers said, in quality well worth three hundredweight of those sold at that time. Hops were evidently coming into favour. We gather from an old receipt that about the end of the century, Beer was made with “40 lbs. of hoppeys to 40 qrs. of grain.”

About the earliest English work on the culture of hops is an old black-letter pamphlet published in 1574 “at the Signe of the Starre, in Paternoster Rowe.” It is entitled, “A Perfite Platforme of a Hoppe Garden, and necessarie instructions for the making and mayntenance thereof, with notes and rules for reformation of all abuses, commonly practised therein, very necessary and expedient for all men to have, which in any wise have to doe with hops.” The author was one Reynolde Scot, and the little volume is adorned with quaint illustrations, and tastefully designed initial letters. The work is dedicated to {75} “Willyam Lovelace Esquire, Sergeaunt at the Lawe,” whom the author desires to accompany him in a consideration of “a matter of profite, or rather with a poynt of good Husbandrie, (in aparance base and tedious, but in use necessarie and commodious, and in effect pleasant and profitable) (that is to saye) to look downe into the bowels of your grounde, and to seeke about your house at Beddersden (which I see you desire to garnish with many costly commodities) for a convenient plot to be applyed to a Hoppe Garden, to the furtherance and accomplishing whereof, I promyse and assure you, the labour of my handes, the assistance of my advise, and the effect of myne experience.”

This little work is recommended to the reader (the recommendation covers four pages) more particularly “as a recompence to the labourer, as a commoditie to the house-keeper, as a comfort to the poor, and as a benefite to the Countrie or Commonwealth, adding thus much hereunto, that there cannot lightly be employed grounde to more profitable use, nor labour to more certain gaynes; howbeit, with this note, that no mysterie is so perfect, no floure so sweete, no scripture so holy, but by abuse a corrupt body, ascending to his venomous nature, may draw poyson out of the same, and therefore blame not this poore trade for that it maketh men riche in yielding double profite.” The author goes on to say that it grieves him to see how “the Flemings envie our practise herein” and declare English hops to be bad, so that they may send the more into England. From this it would seem clear that at all events foreign hops were extensively used in English beer at that date, and English hop gardens by no means common. Scot, who must have been a man of common sense, gives good advice to intending hop growers. They are to consider three things: “First, whether you have, or can procure unto yourself, any grounde good for that purpose” (i.e., the cultivation of hops). “Secondly, of the convenient standing thereof. Thirdly, of the quantitie. And this I saye by the way, if the grounde you deale withall, be not your own enheritance, procure unto your selfe some certayne terme therein, least another man reape the fruite of your traveyle and charge.”

From the epilogue, which concludes with a tremendous denunciation of those who allow strangers from beyond the seas to bring into the country that which we ought to grow ourselves, we cull the following quaint passage:

“There will some smell out the profitable savour of this herbe, some wyll gather the fruit thereof, some will make a sallet therewith (which is good in one respect for the bellye, and in another for the {76} Purse), and when the grace and sweetenesse hereof conceived, some will dippe their fingers therein up to the knuckles, and some will be glad to licke the Dishe, and they that disdayne to be partakers hereof, commonly prove to be such as have mountaynes in fantasie, and beggary in possession.”

Reynolde Scot’s pamphlet is most complete in the directions it gives concerning hop-growing, and, strange to say, the system of cultivation seems little changed since then. The author levels the following remarks at the heads of those who might, yet will not, grow hops:— “Methinks I might aptlye compare such men as have grounde fitte for this purpose, and will not employ it accordingly, to ale-house knightes, partly for the small devotion which both the one and the other have unto Hoppes, but especially for that many of these ale knights havyng good drinke at home of their owne, can be content to drinke moore abroade at an ale-house, so they may sit close by it. Let them expounde this comparison that buy their hoppes at Poppering, and may have them at home with more ease, and lesse charge.”

Honest old Thomas Tusser, in his “Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry” (1580), has a good deal to say about hops. He gives a charmingly quaint but very practical “lesson where and when to plant a good hop-yard.”

Among the directions for good husbandry for the various months, Tusser advises that—

The process of setting the hop-poles is thus described:—

Care must be taken to weed and to fence the hop garden:—

We have quoted rather largely from Tusser’s poem, thinking that it may interest hop-growers of the present day.

Reynolde Scot’s appeal was not in vain, for in 1608 there is no doubt that hop plantations were fairly abundant, though the plant was not sufficiently cultivated for home consumption. In that year an Act was passed against the importation of spoilt hops. Until 1690, however, the greater part of supply was drawn from abroad, and then, to encourage home production, a duty of twenty shillings per cwt. over and above all other charges, was put upon those imported. Walter Blith, writing in 1643, speaks of hops as a “national commoditie.” In 1710, the duty of a penny per lb. was imposed upon all hops reared in England, and threepence on foreign hops. In subsequent years slight variations were made in the amount of the duty, and finally it was abolished, when hop-grounds at once began to increase.

When the duty was high, and hops scarce, substitutes for Humulus lupulus were experimented with, among others, pine and willow bark, cascarilla bark, quassia, gentian, colocynth, walnut leaf, wormwood bitter, extract of aloes, cocculus indicus berries, capsicum, and others too numerous to mention, picric acid being perhaps the most modern. None of these have been found to be an equivalent for the hop, lacking its distinct and independent elements of activity.

So far we have treated solely of the somewhat chequered history of the hop. Let us now consider its merits and uses. Thus sang the poet:—

But from poets we do not, as a rule, gather much practical information, except from such as worthy old Tusser. Harrison, in his description of England, says: “The continuance of the drinke is alwaie determined after the quantitie of the hops, so that being well hopped it lasteth longer.” A modern writer puts it thus: “The principal use of hops in brewing is for the preservation of malt liquor, and to communicate to it an agreeably aromatic bitter flavour. The best are used for ale and the finer kinds of malt liquor, and inferior kinds are used for porter.”

“Brew in October and hop it for long keeping,” was the excellent advice given by Mortimer. Dr. Luke Booker, in his sequel poem to the Hop Garden, of course devotes some lines to this subject:—

In relation to his allusion to a “pearly star,” Dr. Booker tells us that, “When ale is of sufficient strength and freshness, there will always float a small cluster of minute pearl-like globules in the centre of the drinking vessel, till the spirit of the liquor is evaporated.”

Hops are an essential to the brewer, not only keeping the beer and giving it an exquisite flavour, but also assisting, if we may be pardoned for using a technical term in a work intended to be anything but technical, to break down the fermentation.

Hops are valuable according as they contain much or little of a yellow powder called lupuline, and technically known as “condition,” which is deposited in minute yellow adhesive globules underneath the {81} bracts of the flower tops, and amounts to from 20 per cent. to 30 per cent. of the dry hops. This powder has a powerful aromatic smell, and is bitter to the taste. It contains hop resin, bitter acid of hops (flavour familiar to bitter beer drinkers), tannic acid, and hop oils, the chemical composition of which is not accurately known. Hops contain most lupuline when the flower is fully matured. Year-old hops only command about half the price of new. Those two years old are called “old-olds,” and are still less valuable. After having been five years in store they are worthless to brewers. Nearly all hops intended to be kept are more or less (the less the better) subjected to the fumes of sulphur, which, oxidising the essential oil, converts it into valerianic acid, and combines with the sulphur to form a solid body. Thus the oil, which would otherwise be the cause of mould, is destroyed, and the hops can be kept. We believe it is the practice of the best brewers to use a mixture of new and old hops, the latter being slightly sulphured, so slightly, indeed, that the smell of the sulphur cannot be detected.

Much has been written on the injurious effects of sulphuring, both to the fermentation and the health of beer-drinkers, and some people have very strong views on the subject. In 1855 a commission, which included Liebig among its members, was appointed by the Bavarian Government to inquire into the matter. After experiments which lasted over a period of two years, a report was issued in which it was stated that in the opinion of the commissioners, sulphuring was beneficial to the hops, and in no way prejudicial to the fermentation. In 1877, a method was made known of preserving hops without sulphur. The oil which prevents the hops from keeping was separated from them by a chemical process, and bottled. The hops were then pressed and kept in the usual way. When required for brewing, the hops and oil could again be united by adding ten or twelve drops of the latter to every twenty-two gallons of beer. This system does not seem to have found favour with hop merchants.

Aloes have occasionally been used to restore decayed hops, though with such poor success that we should hardly think the experiment was often repeated. Professor Bradly, a Cambridge professor of botany, wrote as follows:—“I cannot help taking notice here of a method which has been used to stale and decayed hops, to make them recover their bitterness, which is to unbag them, and sprinkle them with aloes and water, which, I have known, has spoiled great quantities of drink about London; for even where the water, the malt, the brewer, {82} and the cellars are each good, a bad hop will spoil all: so that every one of these particulars should be well chosen before brewing, or else we must expect a bad account of our labour.”

The age of hops is known by their appearance, odour, and feel. New unsulphured hops, for instance, when rubbed through the hand feel oily. In their first year they are of a bright green colour, have an aromatic smell and the lupuline is a bright yellow. In the second year they get darker, have a slightly cheesy odour, and the lupuline becomes a golden yellow. In the third year the lupuline is a dark yellow, the smell being about the same as in the second year.

In the hedges about Canton is found a variety of hop growing wild. It has been named the Humulus Japonicus. “Although this species,” says Seemann, in his Botany of the Voyage of H.M.S. Herald, “was published many years ago by Von Siebold and Zuccarini, we still find nearly all our systematic works asserting that there is only one species of Humulus, as there seems to be only one species of Cannabis. This, however, is a very good species, at once distinguished from the common Hop by the entire absence of those resinous spherical glands, with which the scales of the imbricated heads of the latter are scattered, and to which they owe their value in the preparation of beer, making the substitution of the one for the other for economical purposes an impossibility.”

So much then for the first and principal use of hops—and yet a few lines more on the same subject; from Christopher Smart’s poem of the Hop Garden:—

But hops have other uses than the generation of “the buxom beer.” The discovery, which we consider an important one, was made a few years back that hop-bine makes excellent ensilage. The subject was {83} first mentioned, so far as we know, in a letter to The Field of December 6th, 1884, from A. L., probably, agent to H. A. Brassey, Esq., of Aylesford. The writer gave an account of the opening of a silo, in one compartment of which had been placed eight tons of hop-bines, in the beginning of the previous September. An account of the experiment was also sent by a visitor at the farm, from whose letter the following extract seems to us well worth perusal:—“The hop-bine is at present an entirely waste material, except for littering purposes; and not a few of the local farmers were anxious to see how it would turn out, and whether stock would eat the hop-bine ensilage or not. No experiment could be more satisfactory. The apparent condition and smell of a great deal of it was even superior to that of several of the other varieties; and when a bag of it was taken to the homestead and offered to some fattening steers, which had been well fed just before, and were not in the least hungry, they devoured it with great alacrity, and seemed heartily to enjoy the new food; consequently this will be good news to hop-growers.”

Early in ’85, the following important letter on the subject appeared in the Kentish Gazette, from Mr. T. M. Hopkins, Lower Wick, Worcester:—

“Having learnt from Mr. Seymour, agent to H. A. Brassey, Esq., that hop-bine made first-rate ensilage, last Oct. I made two stacks of it 16ft. by 16ft., and 18ft. high. After letting it ferment freely, I pressed down with Reynolds and Co.’s patent screw press, and next day filled up again; and, when sufficiently fermented, again pressed down, and this lasted all through the hop-picking. I have now used nearly the whole of it, and calculate that it has saved me some 80 tons of hay; no more hop-bine do I waste in future as I have hitherto done. My horses have had nothing else for two months, excepting their usual allowance of corn, and I never had them looking better. I have also had 100 head of cattle, stores, cows, and calves feeding on it for a fortnight, and they do well. Dr. Voelcker, chemist to the R.A.S.E., who has analysed it, says: ‘It has plenty of good material in it, and is decidedly rich in nitrogen, nor is the amount of acid excessive or likely to harm cattle.’ Another analyst, Mr. W. E. Porter, F.C.S., says: ‘It contains more flesh-forming matter and less indigestible fibre than hay dried at 212.’ Planters should leave off growing hops to sell at present average prices, 40s. to 50s., which is a dead loss. Let the plant run wild, and they may every season cut two or three immense crops of material that will make ensilage of unexceptionable quality.” {84}

To this there is little we can add.39 The importance of the subject is evident. We may, however, express a hope that hop-growers will not act on Mr. Hopkins’ suggestion, and only grow hops for the sake of the bine—English hops are too good for that. We have spoken of hop-bine ensilage as a discovery, but French farmers have for years mixed green hop-leaves with their cows’ food, under the belief, rightly or wrongly we know not, that it increases the flow of milk. Possibly in the far past hops were cultivated as fodder, and even used as ensilage. Silos we know were used anciently, though only recently re-introduced owing principally to the attention called to them in The Field and the agricultural journals.