Smithwick's 0.0?* – When Guinness Brewed a Non-Alcoholic Bitter

Alcohol free beer is hardly a new phenomenon, although every time it regains its popularity for a new generation there seems to be a collective loss of memory that it has existed in various forms for 150 years or more. From the long-gone days of alcohol free(ish) Hop Bitters, Hop Porter and Hop Stout of the late 19th century – driven by the temperance movement – it stuttered along through the early 20th century before finally re-emerging in the 1980s in numbers, primarily aimed at a new health conscious breed of people plus those who had found their moral compass, aided by new legislation, and  didn’t want to drink and drive.

By the late 1980s there were 25 brands of low or no alcohol in the UK market, 12 of which were made there and the rest imported¹, and onto this sober-driven bandwagon was to jump an Irish brewed contender with an equally unlikely name.

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Smithwick’s Alcohol Free Bitter, or AFB as it was marketed, was developed in James’s Gate in Dublin by Guinness, the owners of the St. Francis Abbey brewery in Kilkenny at the time and therefore the holder of the brand rights to the Smithwick name for brewing. Guinness had launched their alcohol-free lager Kaliber in 1983 in Ireland, followed by the US, before it appeared in the UK in late 1985, and by 1988 it was selling very well there. Over September and October of that year they launched Smithwick AFB into that market as an ale alternative for those who, perhaps, preferred something less Teutonic tasting on their palates, as many of the non and low alcohol beers available at that time were lagers. An alcohol free version of and English style beer would have seemed to be a good call as a stablemate for Kaliber.

Using the Smithwick’s brand might seem a strange choice but it would have made sense on a number of fronts. Firstly, the brand would possibly have been known to a small extent beer-wise, but regardless of that, the name itself is essentially an English surname and even follows English pronunciation traditions. Secondly, they could play on the marketed heritage of the brewery to apply an instant veneer of respectability and history to the product. Lastly, ‘normal’ Smithwicks was developed in the mid-1960s as a reaction to keg bitters such as Watney’s Red Barrel and other UK interlopers which were taking market share from the Irish breweries and their ale brands, with some such as Red Barrel even being brewed here. It was pretty much a keg bitter itself – this was before it was reclassified as that new-fangled style called an ‘Irish Red Ale’ – so the leap from it to a non-alcoholic bitter-style ale probably required little in recipe changes. So, in the same way that it was rumoured that Kaliber was just non-alcoholic Harp – it was brewed in the same brewery in Dundalk – then AFB would seem to be just Smithwicks without its alcohol content.

No common sources seem to say exactly where the beer was brewed but given the labels and other marketing material, we can hesitantly assume that it was in the Kilkenny brewery, but it was bottled, along with Kaliber, in the other Guinness owned Dundalk Brewery, Macardle Moore. Curiously, there is a reference to that brewery being ‘at the heart of [..] non-alcoholic Smithwicks' and which is confirmed to be ‘exactly the same as Smithwicks, only with the alcohol taken out.’² Indeed, Smithwicks ale for the north of Ireland was being brewed there so it is possible that some or all of the beer was being brewed in the Macardle Moore brewery given the enigmatic quotation above? It was also reported elsewhere to have been based on the higher gravity Export version of Smithwicks, which would possible give it more depth and compensate for the lack of alcohol, or perhaps it was chosen to be even more close to and English Bitter by taste after the alcohol was removed.³ There is no mention in any sources as to how it was dealcoholised but it was probably done at the end of fermentation by a distillation method to evaporate out the alcohol, as was Kaliber, and certainly a stronger flavoured base-beer would help mask any unpleasantness from that process.

The launch was accompanied by newspaper competitions plus promotions, and a strange and repeated focus on how the beer, at 0.5% abv, contained less alcohol than orange juice! Reviews of the product at the time varied a little but it seems to have been generally well received for what it was, with reviewers commenting on how it (ironically) ‘packed a real bite and had good flavour’ and how they could drink it in a pub all night,  although it was also said to be ‘quite gassy and sweet.’⁴ Others said it was ‘pretty good. Smells right and tastes of hops. Quite rich and smooth to drink.’⁵ It was sold in half-pint and in 4-packs of 330ml bottles, and perhaps in other formats too. The name Guinness featured quite prominently on the labels, beer mats and newspaper advertisements, presumably to add another layer of confidence and security to the brand for those who had never heard of Smithwicks and needed reassurance as to its provenance. Unlike Kaliber, it doesn't seem to have ever been available south of the border in Ireland. Hardly a surprise given its restyled name and branding, and the confusion it might cause to consumers here.

The late 1980s seems to have been the highpoint for that generation of non-and-low alcoholic beer and by January 1991 the love and demand for these ‘near beers’ was in decline. Complaints at the time of these beers being too expensive and that some didn’t taste great – tarnishing the reputation of all – sound somewhat familiar to modern ears regarding our current generation of 0.0s.

Smithwicks AFB was one of the first of many of these brands to quietly disappear due to disappointing sales, even given the good reviews. Most of the others followed; who in the UK remembers Bass brewed Barbican or Whitbread's White Label now?

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All of this gives pause for thought as to the current 0.0% bubble that seems to be increasing month by month. History would seem to tell us that it won’t last, that sometime in the next few years there will be a big pop, or possibly just a slow deflate.

Perhaps not though, as the trend is different this time round. There are many more draught versions available and the quality and taste seems generally much better. Also the marketing angle is different and more focussed, and perhaps the reason for drinking these beers has also changed. But we still come back to history repeating itself so it may not be overly prudent as a long-term investment ...

Although, conversely, maybe we are not far away from Guinness launching a non-alcoholic nitro ale on us – less of the Smithwick's 0.00 and more of a Kilkenny 0.0?!

Liam

* It was 0.5% abv of course!

¹ The Daily Express 18th January 1988
² The Drogheda Argus and Leinster Journal 2nd September 1988
³ The Staffordshire Newsletter 18th November 1988
⁴ The Northamptonshire Evening Telegraph 12th December 1990
⁵ The Bristol Evening Post 24th March 1990

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive. Label and label image are the authors. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

That Bass Pale Ale Label - Why It Wasn't the First Trade Mark Registered in the UK

There is an enduring story that Bass’s Red Triangle was the first registered trade mark in the United Kingdom in 1876 – and with 2026 being the 150th anniversary of this claim there have been quite a few mentions, reports and comments published recently. We’ve all read the following in one form or another in many a publication in print and online.

‘The earliest known trademark is said to be the Bass Ale triangle.’

‘[Bass’s] red triangle became the UK's first registered trade mark.’

‘Bass's application for its Pale Ale Label back in 1876 was the first ever UK trade mark registration.’

The latter of those is more correct, as it was the whole label that was registered and not just the triangle, but in actuality this wasn’t even the first registered trade mark. Nor was it likely to have been the first whole beer label that was a registered trade marked once we delve into a little copyright history sprinkled with a little pedantry.

Trade marks were around for a long time before the 19th century in one form or another but from a legislative and product labelling point of view the focus here is on that century and especially the legislation than cover the UK, and Ireland, at that time. Some of the laws and wording from that era are quite tricky to understand in their entirety but it can still be looked at with a layperson’s eye and some understanding can be garnered from it – hopefully correctly – in order to delve into the more basic history of trade marks in that century. Here's a short summation of what can be gleaned from a moderate amount of research on the subject.

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The first relevant piece of 19th century legislation for this topic was the Copyright Act of 1842 (5 & 6 Vict. C. 45). This dealt mostly with published works such as books, plays and other printed material. It wasn’t the first ever copyright act but it appears to be the first where copies of published works had to be submitted to certain libraries and where an entry in the registry of copyrights at Stationer’ Hall in London could be used to help your claim in the case of a copyright infringement – something that was looked after by The Stationer’s Company who operated from said premises, in one form or another, since the 16th century. Redress for infringements were enforced via the Court of Chancery by the holder.

But it appears that it wasn’t just published works that could be registered, it was also trade marks and labels from this date.¹

Here’s a nice example for such a registered trade mark from 1847 for Daintree & Co.²

And another from 1874 but crucially stating that the shown label for Bishop’s Citrate of Magnesia was registered in Stationer’s Hall in 1860 – not just the trade mark itself.³

Curiously, even as late as 1891 Garvey’s in Waterford were advertising that their Guinness Porter label was entered in the Book of Registry of Copyright in Stationer’s Hall, and they quote that much earlier 1842 act as can be seen here.⁴ This is a very late use for registration in this way, as be seen later, but it proves that beer labels could be registered under this early act although sadly there is no proof that Garvey's registered it earlier than 1891. It is also of note that the words 'trade mark' are not actually mentioned here, so this is certainly in a greyer area and probably explains the late use.

There are many more examples so even under this act there was an ability to register trade marks and labels for many products and consumables under a copyright act.

The next piece of legislation is The Merchandise Marks Act 1862 (25 & 26 Vict. C.88) which spelled out further the implications of the fraudulent marking of merchandise and the penalties imposed on those who would try to pass of one product as another, including fines, seizures and convictions. It would also seem that with both of these acts the need for registration was not entirely specified – or possibly not even required – but never the less ‘registered designs’ were mentioned which seems to lead to more and more businesses, including breweries, registering theirs as a way of proving ownership. This was still dealt with under a general copyright law more so than any specific trade mark law – but trade marks were certainly still being registered in the 1860s and 1870s. (The almost endless, and relatively fascinating, debates regarding this act were printed in many newspapers at this time, many quoting the continental legislations that were already in place before this act. They are certainly worth a read and were printed in parliamentary reports and covered very well by newspapers of the time.)

It would appear that the first of what we now recognise as the older buff Guinness labels with black writing and a red code was registered in 1862⁵ and mention of that can be seen in advertisements around that date which mention 'registered label on each bottle.'

We can see another drink label being mentioned as registered here in this advertisement for Hennessy's Brandy from 1868. It says, 'Copyright of our lable[sic], with the battle axe (our trade mark) is registered at Stationer's Hall, London.' We can see here the word being used is 'copyright' more so than the phrase 'trade marked' due to it still being done so under copyright law but it has been registered, as has their trade marked image.⁶ (It seems from newspaper reports that it was extremely common to send inferior brandy in Hennessy branded casks to 'the colonies' at this time!)

For another example, here’s a label facsimile from 1872 for Bottled Cooper, a blended beer ‘brand’ with Irish origins at the Beamish & Crawford brewery in Cork. The words 'Registered Trade Mark' can be seen on the tower in the centre of the label.⁷ Beamish & Crawford were using this castle trade mark from at least 1862 – although earlier labels omit the word 'registered' – and sadly it is unclear as to whether the whole label was registered or just the logo. It does seem likely at least that the whole label was entered at Stationer's Hall but no proof of that can be found in common sources, but we can be relatively confident that the logo at the very least was registered.

Finally came the Trade Marks Registration Act of 1875 which now dealt specifically with trade marks, and where as previous registration had been made under copyright law and lumped in with other copyright material. Now trade mark records were held together, and separate from the other copyright material. A Trade Mark Registry Office was opened in Quality Court, 47 Chancery Lane on the 1st of January 1876 with a Mr. H. R. Lack from the Board of Trade the first registrar, and this we can assume is when and where that famous Bass label is the first one registered.

For the record, Guinness registered their label under this act in the same year, but on the 1st of April!

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So, as pedantic as it might sound, it is not correct to say that the Bass Pale Ale label was the first trade marked beer label registered, or even the first label registered, and certainly not the first trade mark. It is more correct to state it was the first trade marked label to be registered under the new Trade Marks Register Act of 1875. (Incidentally, Bass had a trade mark from c. 1848 according to a newspaper report in The Sheffield Independent when the 1862 act was being debated and those from the brewery were being queried and interviewed. In that piece they were specifically called as witnesses as to how prevalent the fraudulent labelling of their product was in the UK, and beyond.)

Further consolidation and amendments were added towards the end of the century and into the next, and although the 1875 act was certainly the most far reaching and important piece of legislation it was by no means the first of the 19th century, nor was it impossible to register a label or trade mark for a product prior to this act as we can see.

Sadly, much of the earlier trade mark records were destroyed¹ and this might include those of Stationer's Hall too? Information appear to be scarce, so it might be impossible to find out what was the first 'trade marked' consumable product in the UK under the copyright acts, let alone which beer label was first registered under that early legislation. A search of the records available online do flag some brewery trade marks in the years just prior to 1876 but no labels sadly. And of course, the Bass label may have been the first registered under these earlier acts too, but I can find no proof or mention of that.

This is a very simplified look at what is in fact a complex and nuanced subject, and admittedly, in the grand scheme of things this sort of detail probably doesn't matter. But it is still important to clarify certain aspects of beer history and bust as many myths as possible, even if this one isn't entirely incorrect – it's just misquoted. And although it is very true that there was no bespoke 'Trade Mark Register' in the UK prior to 1875 there was the ability to register a trade mark by other means as we can see, specifically copyright law, and these trademarks and labels were registered in Stationer Hall.

A tedious, pedantic point perhaps, but hopefully justified?

Liam K

(The image at the top of the post is just a nice label from an advertisement for the Hibernian Mineral Water Company from The Dublin Advertising Gazette 28th August 1869 showing their registered trade mark, and predating 1876 as another nice example. Plus it's Irish.)

¹ National Archives Website

² Webster's Royal red book or Court and fashionable register published in 1847

³ Year Book of Pharmacy published in 1847

⁴ The Waterford Standard 27th January 1892 

⁵ A Bottle of Guinness Please – David Hughes 2006

⁶ The London and China Express 24th April 1868

^{7 The Islington Times 17th January 1872}

(More on that bottled Cooper here.)

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, who have kindly let me share the above images. Other sources are as stated. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

A Shot of Beer History #12: Castlebellingham Christmas Ale

Christmas Ale wasn't something that breweries promoted in Ireland so it's nice to come across an advertisement for one that was to some extent. This is a probably just Castlebellingham's 'ordinary' strong ale marketed in a different fashion, and their sister brewery in Drogheda were certainly brewing something along those lines around this time. That one was classed as a Mild ale, sugar was added to the brew as well as malt and it was relatively well hopped and probably pale in colour but the actual type of pale malt and the sugar used might have had an effect to make it a little darker and more of a deep golden shade. It would have been between 6% and 7% alcohol content based on those records, depending on where the fermentation finished out after its maturation. This is probably the beer that developed into their Stingo beer which was available a few years later and sold as a winter warmer style of ale.

There are recipes in the Castlebellingham & Drogheda Brewery (Cairnes) brewing logs for this period in the Guinness Archive but some of the information as to the precise ingredients is somewhat lacking. Nevertheless, I brewed a possible 1912 version of this beer - from the abovementioned brewing records - and it turned out pale and interesting. It was also incredibly drinkable and not overly challenging give it ended up over 7%, as the fermented out sugar had given it quite a dry quality. I did it find it didn't age very well but that could be down to my brewing method. Plus, I was aging it in bottles, they would have aged it in wooden barrels.

Anyhow, here's to Christmas ales, long may they last. If we can just keep clear of the nutmeg and cinnamon ...

Cheers!

Liam K

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, who have kindly let me share the above images from The Newry Telegraph - 18th December 1915. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

Strong Words and Strange Porter: Some Notes on the Beer Recipes for a Talk and Tasting in L. Mulligan Grocer, Stoneybatter, Dublin on 7th December 2025

When Dr. Christina Wade first approached me to collaborate on a couple of 18th century beers to tie in with the English vs Irish porter wars chapter in her book Filthy Queens, I thought it would be a relatively straightforward task. I had some limited experience of homebrewing 19th century Irish porters, albeit on a modern system, so what would pushing a recipe back a century require?  Relatively, easy-peasy surely? A little more research into an era I wasn’t hugely familiar with perhaps, but it should be a relatively straightforward task to come up with a historical-ish recipe. How wrong we were …

Irish brewing records from the 19th and 20th century are scarce enough but those from the 1700s are practically non-existent outside of places like the Guinness archive, whose records of their own beers, as well as the brands they still brew, are inaccessible to the public. That left us looking through old newspapers and books for mentions of what an Irish porter from this period was like, and we certainly found some bits of information but no actual full recipes.

The English version was a little more straight forward, as there is, and was in the past, a little more published on the porters produced on that side of the pond than here, but we soon realized that anything even close to real recipes was going to be impossible. Plus, we were never going to get close to the same process on a modern brew kit anyway, nor would any of the ingredients be date-correct as, for example, barley varieties have changed since the 1700s - not to mention the malting process. Old fermentation methods and using wooden barrels would be problematic too, so we soon resigned ourselves to not being able to replicate porters from that period in any meaningful way given these constraints and settled into a more ‘inspired by’ mode – much as I dislike the term and its use by certain breweries. The difference would be that we would be sure to communicate that these were not historic recipes, but where we could we’d try to add ingredients we found mentioned in brewing at the time – even if they had been highlighted in a derogatory way – and attempt to hit mentioned alcohol contents if we could. I other words we’d have a bit of fun with it and not take the recipes too seriously!

For the Irish Porter we came up with the name Fire & Labour based on a mention of the many costs of brewing a porter, and how that factor was another expense on top of the ingredients – plus it’s a great name for a beer! The hopping rates and gravity were taken from 18th century book mentions so they were factored into the recipe. Gentian root and molasses were allegedly – and sneakily – used in small-beer at this time as a way of saving on bittering hops and increasing the sugars for fermentation, so even though we were brewing a porter in they went too! The malt was mostly modern Irish ale malt but with a little Chocolate malt and Special W in a poor attempt to replicate an old brown malt of the period – and this method is mentioned as a mix for porter in some books, but with different malts of course. Longish mash and boil times were required, and just Fuggles used in the boil for hopping, even if East Kent Golding would have been a better if not perfect fit – my bad! Irish ale yeast was used for fermentation and the target abv was 6.6%.

Again for the English Porter we based it on documented gravities and tried to keep much of the base the same, but with English pale malt and treacle, liquorice and ginger root – again as they had been mentioned as adjuncts in English porters. Fuggles were (wrongly again!) used for bittering too but some were added quite late in the boil this time. It had a higher gravity – over 7% – than the Irish one, again as mentioned in some publications, and we used English ale yeast. This one was called The Fox, a name used for a beer that wasn’t quite what it should be!

These recipes were then passed over to Trouble Brewing for replication and production, and they certainly didn’t let us down. They used as many of the ingredients as they could find that were economical – including the odd ones – and did a fair job at hitting the correct gravities given the vagaries of the conversion and those ingredients. I could not be more pleased at how they adapted and brewed the recipes.

Only one question remains.

How do the taste and who won this particular porter war?

And remember, these are not serious, historical beers – they’re a bit of experimentation and a bit of fun, although they do include historical elements.

More importantly, hopefully they are enjoyable!

Thanks again to Christina for including me in the project, and Trouble for doing all the hard work and taking a leap of faith.

Liam K

A Shot of Beer History #11: Smithwick's East India Pale Ale

It could be argued that the history of the Smithwick family's St. Francis Abbey brewery in Kilkenny bring out a love/hate duality of feelings in certain beer writers. For sure there is a grá for all that true 19th and 20th century brewing history that is relatively accessible and incredibly interesting, but there is also a fair degree of animus and disappointment in how that past has been twisted, muzzled and muted. Years of marketing mischief means that verifiable history and factual reporting have instead been replaced with myths and mistruths, to a point where a once-great brewery has been diminished to a few brands with extremely dubious provenance and a dead-brewery building reborn as an over-branded, souvenir-filled, tourist-driven entity driven by fakelore, online ratings, and ruddy-tinged images on social media. It's such a shame, in every meaning of the word.

You've heard all of that before, but that real history of brewing in the St. Francis Abbey brewery is at times a wonderful thing to come across by chance, and such is the case with this article from an 1896 whiskey trade review regarding Smithwick's East India Pale Ale. At this point Smithwicks had been brewing in Kilkenny for 70 years or so and had established themselves as one of the most well-known and prominent breweries in the country and were supplying their ales and porters throughout much of the country as well as abroad. It's hardly surprising they would warrant a piece like this.

MESSRS. E. SMITHWICK AND SON’S EAST INDIA PALE ALE.

THE BREWERY, KILKENNY.

KILKENNY, in point of quality of its ale brewing, is most assuredly the Burton of Ireland. May its brews be as well known as they deserve to be, and its brewing industry prosper under the initial guidance of Messrs. E. Smithwick & Son, the enterprising brewers of that town. This firm’s East India Pale Ale on draught is on sale at several of the most important refreshment bars in Dublin. It was at the best frequented bar in Dame Street that we tasted this ale last week, although we had met it before at the Brewers and Distillers’ Exhibition in 1892, since which time we had pleasant recollections of it. A finer glass of ale is not made, and anyone who is fond of ale does not want anything better. As compared with the Burton-on-Trent beers, it will hold its own against any of them. It possesses the sharpness of the best of them, and the well-known good draught qualities of the second largest brewery at Burton, the English brewery town. We do not know who the brewer is at Messrs. Smithwick’s, but, judging from the great likeness existing between this and the English ale, he has a very cute knowledge “of how they do it at Burton.” We questioned the barman as to how the public liked “Smithwick’s,” to which he replied they never had a complaint, and that customers who had tried it would never have any other. The colour is the usual Burton tint, it is perfectly clarified, and always possesses a nice head. It is choicely “hopped,” and it must be a capital tonic. The proprietor of the restaurant to which we have referred has expressed himself thus:- “If the quality of Smithwick’s ale keeps up, as it has done, I shall sell none other.” We learn that its keeping qualities are most satisfactory, and that there is a depot in Dublin at the “Lot[t]s,” to the rear of Bachelor's Walk, where a large quantity of ale is properly stored. Messrs. Smithwick’s own carts deliver to all parts of the city, and we are pleased to know that the trade is increasing, and that traders are proud to admit that a finer glass of ale, either in England or Ireland, was never tasted. The Dublin agent is Mr. Wm. Jarratt, whose office is at 8, Cope Street, Dublin.

Newspaper advertisements for this decade show the Smithwick's brewery were supplying Strong Ale, Pale Butt and three different variants of stout as well as a Dinner Ale, but it was their East India Pale Ale that they championed at this point and which their advertisements maintained was their 'Speciality.' As we read above, their pale ale was also the beer they showed at that 1892 exhibition for which (along with other breweries) they were awarded a gold medal and a Diploma of Merit, which they naughtily claimed was a 'First Prize' by the 1950s and is sometimes incorrectly attached to the modern 1960s born Smithwick's Ale to which it bears no real relation. It also seems that asking for a "Smithwick's" in Dublin - at least in the establishment mentioned - would get you a pale ale of Burton quality and something that would compare favourably with Bass's version, which was extremely popular in Ireland at this time. 

A cynic might suggest that the above article is just an advertisement of sorts and we shouldn't take much heed to the lyrical waxings of the writer but there must be a strong element of truth to this probable piece of advertising prose even if that seems a little hypocritical to say given the comments regarding marketing content mentioned above. It's certainly nice to read how Kilkenny was seen as the Burton of Ireland - as farfetched as that might be in reality given how it contained only two breweries at this time - and the rest rings true without being able to verify the quotes of course.

Of note is the fact that Diageo - owners of the Smithwick's brand via Guinness - relaunched a pale ale in 2011 which was a journey full circle back to where they were decades ago with their IPA and then their No. 1 ale, albeit with a different recipe and brewing regime, and this was the same time they started marketing their red ale as such.

I doubt it received a write-up like their East India Pale Ale, and any comparisons between the city of Kilkenny and the 19th century town of Burton would have been a difficult sell, even by clever marketing.

Liam K

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, who have kindly let me share the above images from The Whiskey Trade Review 3rd March 1896. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

A Shot of Beer History #10: Some Late 19th Century Dublin & Cork Stout Labels

In March of 1896 the following commentary appeared in the wonderfully titled Dublin newspaper The Illustrograph:

THE STOUT LABEL QUESTION

   DURING the past few months the magnificent Dublin firm of stout brewers are considered to have tarnished their reputation in Ireland by enacting a business rule to the effect that any licensed liquor trader may use the official Guinness's Extra Stout label supplied by the Company conditionally that such trader will enter into agreement with the Company not to sell the bottling stout of any Dublin or other brewer. This is the sum total of the agreement. The trader may sell porter of any other brewer as drawn from the cask and supplied by the glass or the tankard, but no bottled stout, except that bearing the label of Messrs, Guinness will be allowed to be vended under this arbitrary agreement.
   Now there exists in Dublin, as is the case in Burton-on-Trent, though not to the same extent, several other large brewers besides the largest and most popular one, but the great English brewery town of Burton, which is as equally noted for its Ales as Dublin is for its Stout, enjoys the distinction over Dublin of having the ale brews of its hundred and one other breweries (other than the great leviathan) extensively and fairly patronised by the English people, more so than the other Dublin brewers are patronised by the Irish people.
   This was not always so, for rather more than a quarter of a century ago honours, so to speak, were more evenly divided, nor were Messrs. Guinness the chief or largest stout brewers.
   Neither is the reason for the present unique (not to say monopolising) position of the great James's Gate Brewery due to superior quality of its manufacture, because the brews of several rival breweries in the Irish capital are considered by experts to be equally as good. On another page of this issue of the ILLUSTROGRAPH will be found the extra or double stout labels as issued by the five other Dublin brewers (Jameson, Pim and Co., Watkins and Co., Mountjoy Brewery Co., Ltd., Phoenix Brewery Co., and D’Arcy and Son) and one Cork brewer (Messrs. Jas. J. Murphy and Co., Limited) outside the Guinness pale, and also an edict issued to the public at large bearing on the monopoly and injustice likely to accrue if it should happen that Messrs. Guinness and Co.'s new Irish plan of campaign be universally adopted.
   To this manifesto and the facsimile of labels (except in colour), we direct the attention of our readers, whom we would advise, without any animus against but with a keen appreciation of the great House of Guinness, to try the extra stout bottlings of these six other brewers. This may be easily effected by those in authority over households ordering direct of the respective breweries or their agents, whose names will be supplied on application to the brewers mentioned. A comparison can then be made, and the writer for one has no fear of the result.
   "Live and let live" and "Free Trade" are prevailing mottos at this the latter portion of the nineteenth century, and most certainly an exclusive policy like that of Messrs. Guinness and Co. would have been more befittingly bestowed, according to history and tradition, at the commencement rather than the close of enlightened nineteenth century.

This appears to be a damning (if clunkily written*) indictment of a new policy by the Guinness brewery to force those who choose to use the Guinness label to only bottle their stout porter and no other. These days this might be dismissed by many with a shrug and a comment about Guinness just being Guinness but it appears that at the time the other breweries in the city were rather incensed by this behaviour to the point where they issued what could be seen as a full page proclamation under the title 'Protest of the Dublin brewing Trade Against the New Guinness Label' where they called out Guinness on what the claimed to be its attempt to establish a monopoly under the guise of wishing to stop adulteration, plus the mislabelling of others' product as their own. This was a new direction for the brewery to take in Ireland, but it had been previously done across the sea in Britain so it wasn't a new direction for Guinness to take.

The other Dublin brewers were not protesting against the use of a label by Guinness in itself, and the company had used labels prior to this period anyway, but rather the conditions mentioned above where those who were supplied with Guinness stout and labels could stock and sell no other bottled stout. The protest and commentary was carried in many newspapers and other sources at the time and it certainly sounds as if this was a turning point in the somewhat convivial if wary relations between Guinness and the other Dublin breweries - although within a little over half a century it wouldn't matter, as Guinness would be the last brewery left standing - literally.

That whole controversy is a subject for a bigger write-up but of interest to Irish brewing history are the copies of the labels used by those other breweries for their stout porter, plus the stray Cork one, which have been enhanced as much as possible and shown here. These appear to have been copies made by the newspaper of the actual labels in some cases given the quality and use of writing on a few but nevertheless some are labels which may not have seen the light of day in well over a hundred years. We have seen a couple of them on here before, notably the Watkins and D'Arcy ones, but here they all now are for posterity - or as much as that can be so in pixels and clouds.

Darcy's Dublin Extra Stout label showing their anchor trademark

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Jameson's XXX Stout stamped with the word 'Invalid's' showing their trademark of a three-masted ship at sail and a write-up of its seemingly excellent attributes by Charles Cameron

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Phoenix Porter Brewery Dublin Stout showing their phoenix trademark

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Mountjoy Brewery's Dublin Stout with the words Extra Double and their three castles trademark

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Watkins's Extra Stout Dublin showing the shamrock trademark of the brewery

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J.J. Murphy & Co. Cork XX Stout with their trademark of a ship at full sail between two towers

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These beers may be long gone but at least some part of them remains, plus there are a few homebrewers who attempt to replicate them - if on modern brew systems. Below is one last image from the same source showing a bottle with the Phoenix label above but overprinted with the word 'Extra' - the bottle might be of interest to any family-brewer-based television series producers who wish to set their show in or around that era!

Liam K

*I know, I know - Pot and kettle indeed!

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research was thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, who have kindly let me share the above images from The Illustrograph (Dublin) from the 1st of March 1869. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

Some Found Pub Prose: A Great and Generous Creature

'True, there be many Old Ales (so-called) that be but of this year’s brewing, and deserve but the name of Mild. Yet that Ale which is Old indeed demandeth one hour for the enjoyment of a pint, and even so a pleasant indolence lingereth, deterrent from bodily and spiritual exercise alike.'

There's something about the time spent drinking beer in pubs that brings out the best in good writers. George Orwell's wishlist in his 'The Moon Under Water' from 1946 is possibly the most famous - and there have been other pieces of writing previous to that work and many since. And it's an ongoing writing theme of course, with new 'odes' to pubs and the beer they serve appearing in social media, books, and other published pieces on a monthly basis, if not more frequently. But there is something quite nostalgic, whimsical and utopian about those older pub-related pieces from the more distant past. They can evoke in some of us more emotions and yearnings than the writing of today, or even from the memories our own early drinking exploits regardless of that era. That wistfulness probably stems from something imagined trumping something experienced in one part of our brain and the idea that the past was somehow better than the present. It wasn't of course, on most counts at least, but that doesn't stop our heads from creating a sentimental picture of some idyllic pub based on the descriptions of a long-dead writer, and from tasting the beer they drank - in our heads at least.

And I'm as guilty as anyone of this sort of foolishness.

-o-

While trawling through newspaper mentions for old pubs for yet another historical project, I came across a smattering of repeats in numerous papers in 1908 of a piece of pubcentric prose under the title, 'The Delights of an Old Alehouse.' It really gripped me as I read it and brought out some of the emotions mentioned above, but it wasn't in any way familiar to me which seemed odd, as it was extremely well written and clearly done by someone with a lot of talent. Luckily, at the end of the piece the author - Charles Hugh Davies - was credited as well as the source of the original publication, which was The Pall Mall Magazine. Some sleuthing and searching finally led me to the piece, which is actually just a small part of an article titled 'An Essaie in Prayse of Beer' which is a much broader love letter to beer, and especially old ale, as was hinted at in the excerpt I had read. I can't find it in any other source (apologies if it has been covered by others and I've just missed it.)

For me, the whole essay is a pure joy, both in style and content. The part I quoted at the very start was particularly resonant, as I have a particular interest in Old Ales - and Milds for that matter - and it also takes me exactly an hour to drink a pint in a pub, which has always seemed the right amount of time to spend on a pleasant beer by my estimation, so it was good to have my opinion reinforced by another drinker, even at the remove of over a century. Although, I'm not sure many present-day publicans would agree with Charles and my drinking pace in their pubs!

That original passage that I found in the newspapers and caught my attention I've transcribed here, and it includes some small details that were left out when published in those papers. Again the first line here sang strongly at me, as late afternoon is my favourite time to visit a pub and drink a beer or two.

Yet, to my mind, pleasantest of all is that great draught of Old Ale which may be drunk ’twixt half after three and five of a winter’s afternoon. Let a man go forth on foot with his dog and a stout stick, and let him walk some five brisk miles along a frosty road. Up hill and down he goes, 'twixt leafless hedgerows; his stick rings on the hard ground, his dog runs busily before. Now, it may be, he follows a lonely field path, and now tramps gaily down a village street. At last, as dusk falls, he sees a pleasant inn before him, back from the road a little way, with a great pole and signboard before - the Checquers[sic], or the Three Gold Cups. Firelight shines warm from the windows, and in he goes to a fair kitchen, where a leaping log-fire dances up the great chimney. Round the walls run benches, and at the fireside is a high-backed settle. Before the blaze hang spit and jack, and on the mantel stand brass candlesticks in a winking row. The rafters are black with smoke, and on the wall hangs a copper warming-pan. Down he sits in the settle, and his dog comes to him and lays his muzzle on his knee. Then, "A pint of Old, please. and a penn’orth of biscuits for the dog." The dog knows what is coming, and stands in the firelight watching the stout dame as she goes to draw the ale. His master draws from his pocket a blackened briar, with a well-knawed[sic] mouthpiece, and a black pouch. Slowly he fills his pipe and waits till the dame comes back with beer and biscuits. He lifts the willow-pattern mug - the best for warm and genial Old - and takes a draught, raising the pot, it may be, for a silent toast. Then he puts down his ale on the deal table at his elbow, breaks a biscuit, and throws a piece to the dog, who catches it before it touches the floor. Then, and then only, he lights his pipe, and so sits smoking, throwing biscuit to the dog; and taking slow draughts of the divine thing.

Perhaps the dame comes and sits at the other side of the chimney, or a labourer comes in from the fields. Then there is beer for the labourer, half of Old and half of Bitter, and talk of ratting and high politics. Then the biscuits are done, and the dog lies down before the blaze on the sanded floor. Half the ale is drunk, and the pipe is at its best. The Votary looks into his mug before he drinks, and admires the deep, rich hue. garnets and ebony in a crucible. He falls under the spell, he is a philosopher at the centre of ideas, the Idea of the Good. His thoughts glide down the emanating rays, and he sees clearly how good things are tobacco and fire and life. . . . His pipe is finished, but there’s more beer in the pot, and he lights up again. The dog is growling in his sleep, and the old labourer is looking into the fire with a wise air, though he is really thinking about turnips. Three-quarters of an hour are gone, and it is quite dark outside. The dame lights the lamp, and the man rouses himself with a jerk, drinks off his ale, looks into the fire, then up and out he goes into the frosty evening. If he were a fool he would stay and try to prolong the pleasure with another pint. But he is not a fool - no Beer-Lover is - and he knows - is it by experience? - that the best is done. So he whistles to his dog, and out they go into the starlight with a "good night" from the man and a volley of barks from the dog. Old Ale, Old Ale, thou are a great and generous creature!

I found this wonderfully descriptive and well written and to my mind it deserves to be well known, perhaps just as well as Orwell's piece even if it is somewhat different in style and content. It certainly puts a longing on me to visit such a place, and although I'm very glad we now have smoke-free pubs even the pipe mentions here sound pleasant and acceptable - as are dogs of course.

You might look at the nice illustration above by Herbert Cole that accompanied the essay in The Pall Mall magazine and think that it doesn't really match that piece of prose, and you would be right, as there is another pub related part contained in the full article that matches the image. It shows another side of pub life and interaction but is equally well written and descriptive.

But now he has had enough of solitude, so by eight he and his dog are tramping down the road to the village, moon overhead and snow under foot. Half a mile in ten minutes and they come to the Running Horses. A cheery hum streams out with the light from the uncurtained window, and grows suddenly louder as he pushes open the door, Then to the right, and he is standing in a haze of blue smoke before a glorious fire of peat and logs. All the places near the blaze are taken, but a young labourer gets up to make room for the gentleman. A fool would decline the offer; the Beer-Lover is not a fool, and he sits down in the empty place. They would none of them think the better of him if he did not, and half a pint will more than repay young Thomas. Conversation drops for a minute while two or three elders make polite remarks and the gentleman’s dog makes the acquaintance of that surly looking sheep-dog who has come out from under the settle. The sheep-dog’s owner speaks to him with no uncertain voice, and the dogs agree to tolerate each other, one at either end of the hearth. 'Then it is a pint of - the Votary hesitates, Mild or Old? Well, perhaps Old is a little drowsy for company; better make it Mild. The landlord, fat and rosy, makes it Mild. And half of Burton for young Thomas. So the beer comes—in pewters this time, the briar is lit, and the Votary leans back and looks around him. On the settle sit the landlord and two elders, and there are two more in Windsor chairs before the fire. He himself has a chair at the corner, with the mantel on his right. His dog is at his feet. This is the inner circle. Outside this are four or five others, younger men, two of them playing dominoes, while the landlord’s pretty daughter looks on and advises about the moves. Conversation resumes its course among the elders; one of the younger men sometimes makes a remark, but not often. They are talking about the old squire, the present Llanharan’s father. The landlord and another stand up for him, the others are recalling his iniquities. It all happened thirty years ago, so that they can talk scandal without slander. The stranger joins in now and then - not often, as most of the talk is in Welsh. He pulls at his mild ale and smokes. He has reached his third pint, and begins

"To look into the pewter pot,

And see the world as the world's not."

In the translucent red glory silence melts, and he talks more freely. Yes, his grandfather was old Dafi Llanfihangel, of the next parish. Oh yes, his father was the one that went to England to make his fortune. Did he make it? Well, no. Here comes a protesting chorus from the elders, and they are soon all deep in affairs of the ’50. Yes, yes, his father often talked of Wil Gat. Not dead yet? Well, Well! . . . What, ten o’clock already, all but five minutes? Well, it’s jolly to talk to people who know Wil Gat. "Good-night !" and "Good-night, sir!" from the elders. Then back through the snow, the dog snuffing the keen air, and barking furiously at every sound. And so to bed.

-o-

Charles Hugh Davies was born in 1887, so he wrote those words when he was just 21 years of age, but to my mind it reads as something written by someone much, much older, He was the eldest son of Thomas Davidson Davies and Elinor Lucy Thomas who lived in Bristol. His father was a maths professor whose family originally came from Wales which will explain the content of his second pub visit in his piece. Charles studied Classics in Magdalen College in Oxford, writing the above while still attending there. He worked in Burma (Myanmar) with the Indian Civil Service after leaving college, and joined the war after returning to England in 1915.

He was killed in action on the 17th of January 1916 when a piece of bomb shrapnel pierced the tent where he was sleeping and struck him on the head. He was just 28 years old.

Although he appears not to have done much writing after college I can't help but think that if he had survived the war he might have returned to writing, something he clearly had a talent for, and a piece like this would now be better known as some of his 'early work.' I have chosen just two sections from his essay on beer to highlight here, as both are pub-based and evocative, but the full piece of writing is linked below and deserves a full read to pull those visits into the broader context of his essay to beer - and there is quite a lot to take in.

If you want to read more about Charles and his life - and you should - there is more on Magdalen College's Slow Dusk website where I got the information for the short biography above. I also chose to show you all a photo of Charles from the same source; in memory of him and his rediscovered work.

So here he is, with his beautiful biscuit-loving dog ...

Charles Hugh Davies, BA and Madoc

(Photo courtesy of Magdalen College, Oxford via the Slow Dusk website)

Liam

The full text of Charles' article can be found on the Internet Archive website here.

Please note, all written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post. Research was via The Internet Archive, The British Newspaper Archive, and the Slow Dusk website linked - all online. The illustration is from The Pall Mall Magazine on the Internet Archive site and the photo of Charles Hugh Davies is from the Magdalen College archives and not my own. It is used here for educational, non-profit reasons, and in memory of him. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!