Beer, its history and its economic value as a national beverage

In Short

This 1880 work acts as a manifesto for the brewing industry in the United States, positioning beer as a "national beverage" capable of combating the scourge of alcoholism. It weaves together historical anecdotes, scientific testimonials, and exhaustive economic data to argue that brewing is a noble, scientific, and essential trade. By contrasting the perceived safety of beer with the dangers of distilled spirits and the failures of prohibition, the volume offers a glimpse into the late-19th-century struggle between temperance advocates and the industry’s proponents.

The Story

The narrative begins by establishing beer as an ancient, civilized beverage, tracing its roots from the traditions of Germanic convents and the importance of the Brauherr in European city life to the establishment of the trade in the New World. It frames the brewer not merely as a merchant, but as a pillar of community stability, citing figures like William Penn and General Israel Putnam as evidence of the craft’s long-standing respectability.

From these historical origins, the argument pivots to a technical and moral defense of the product. It categorizes beer into two main varieties—ale and lager—and details the distinct methods of fermentation, elevating brewing to a rigorous science. The central tension of the book is the battle against "ardent spirits." The author contends that the high alcoholic content of whiskeys and rums is the true source of societal ruin, while the lower, more nourishing alcohol content of beer offers a moderate alternative. To prove this, the text relies on evidence from the recent Franco-Prussian War, where German military surgeons purportedly noted the restorative and fortifying effects of beer on wounded soldiers, suggesting it as a superior ration compared to distilled spirits.

As the book progresses, it shifts from the battlefield to the American home and legislative floor. It launches a forceful critique of prohibitory laws, particularly in Maine, arguing that such measures fail to stop drinking but instead drive the trade into the hands of criminals, creating a "curse" upon the youth. It contrasts these legislative failures with the perceived successes of beer-drinking cultures in Europe, where, according to the author’s data, drunkenness is rare.

The concluding portion of the book serves as an industry almanac. It provides a detailed, state-by-state accounting of production figures for breweries across the United States. This massive compilation of data—showing barrel counts for individual companies—functions as a tangible testament to the economic power and growth of the industry. The book ends by advocating for a return to a more "liberal" understanding of Sunday laws, framing the social enjoyment of beer as a harmless, traditional, and wholesome pursuit that deserves to be protected from the reach of puritanical statutes. By framing the brewer as a partner to the farmer and a promoter of temperance, the work finishes with a comprehensive call to view beer as the foundation of a healthy, productive, and modern nation.

How It Unfolds

The ancient pedigree The narrative roots the industry in the traditions of medieval Europe, where monks and city councils guarded the quality of malt beverages. This establishes beer as a beverage of high standing rather than a recent or illicit invention.

The science of the brew By distinguishing between the rapid, high-temperature fermentation of ales and the slow, thorough process of lager, the text asserts that brewing is a precise, learned craft. This framing elevates the brewer’s status to that of a scientific practitioner.

The case for temperance The argument identifies distilled spirits as the primary cause of poverty and violence, proposing beer as a "softer" alternative. It uses international comparisons to suggest that a society fueled by beer is naturally more orderly.

The failure of prohibition The book examines the social cost of banning alcohol, noting that legal restrictions merely encourage the consumption of dangerous, low-quality spirits. It presents the "club-room" as a site of moral corruption spawned by the very laws meant to prevent it.

The economic reality The final section provides an extensive statistical breakdown of production volume across the country. This serves as a final, empirical argument for the industry's indispensable role in the national economy.

The People

The book focuses less on individual characters and more on the archetypes of the "Brewer" and the "Statesman." The Brewer is depicted as an industrious, community-minded figure, exemplified by the likes of Jacob Van Artevelde, who ruled Flanders, and William Penn, who brought the craft to Pennsylvania. These men want to cultivate a respectable, lucrative industry that provides a safe beverage for the masses. They are thwarted by the "prohibitionists," whom the author views as misguided zealots attempting to impose outdated, restrictive, and ultimately counterproductive laws.

Joseph Schlitz stands out as a tragic but industrious figure whose death at sea represents the risks of the trade, though his legacy is secured through the transition of his brewery into a stable stock company. Meanwhile, the physicians and scientific authorities, such as Baron Liebig, serve as the intellectual heavyweights who provide the "medical" justification for the brewer's work. These men see themselves as bringers of truth, standing against a tide of popular hysteria. By the end, the brewers emerge as the victors of the narrative, successfully transitioning from local artisans to captains of a massive, modern industry, while the prohibitionists are left as agents of social discord whose influence is framed as a fading historical relic.

In Its Own Voice

The author highlights the long-standing cultural legitimacy of the trade by connecting it to the most significant figures of the Reformation.

Luther’s fondness for beer is well known, and on the evening of that eventful day at Worms, April 18, 1521, the Duke Erich von Braunschweig, sent him a pot of Eimbecker beer, to which he was specially addicted.

The author argues that the medical benefits of the beverage are supported by the highest scientific authorities of the age.

In beer-drinking countries, it is the universal medicine for the healthy as well as for the sick, and it is milk to the aged.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the moderation of social appetites through the use of "safer" stimulants. It posits that humans have a natural, irrepressible desire to alter their state of mind, and that the state’s role should be to provide a wholesome outlet for this desire rather than attempting to suppress it entirely. The central question is whether a nation’s health is better served by the strict, often failed enforcement of puritanical morality or by the gradual, commercial integration of a milder, more "rational" beverage. It is a work about the tension between individual liberty and social order, ultimately championing the idea that economic growth and scientific progress—represented by the modern brewery—are the true guardians of public decency.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of American industry, the evolution of dietary habits, or the origins of the temperance movement will find this a fascinating, if one-sided, time capsule. It provides an unfiltered look at how the brewing industry viewed its own moral and economic contributions during the late 19th century.

The prose is straightforward and earnest, though the book does require patience. The vast, state-by-state lists of breweries and their production barrels can be dry, reflecting a period when such data was a novel and potent way to demonstrate market dominance. The reader should be prepared for the author’s clear bias; he is a fierce defender of his industry, and his dismissive attitude toward those who disagreed with him is representative of the era's combative social discourse. Some of the references to "modern" medical findings will appear quaint or inaccurate to a contemporary reader, and the defensive tone regarding the "demon drink" illustrates the defensive crouch of an industry under heavy legal pressure. Nevertheless, as a window into the self-conception of the American brewing titan in 1880, it is invaluable. It stays with you as a reminder of how deeply the production of a simple drink was once tied to the grandest questions of national destiny, morality, and the role of the state in personal life.