WINE
Merry England Sebastian Morello in praise of ‘common culture’, the traditional English pub and Trappist ales
A
ll great music is folk music. Even the most elevated compositions are, in essence, folk music. That is, folk music which has been raised for a higher purpose than that of accompanying the harvest festival, or some such occasion. This was, in sum, the argument of Ralph Vaughan Williams in his National Music lectures published in 1934. T.S. Eliot, fifteen years later, extended this notion to all high culture, arguing in Notes Towards the Definition of Culture that high culture was dependent on ‘common culture’, and was really the latter transformed. I endorse this view, and I look down my nose at those who turn up theirs at common culture. Among conservative-minded people there is much worry that high culture is in crisis, but this should not be our first concern. The recital halls, the museums, the opera houses and the art galleries keep going (for now at least). Families eating meals together, local traditions and festivals, historical associations, fiddle-playing and card games; all such things have largely been replaced by the television – ‘the devil’s tabernacle’, as Padre Pio called it – addictively enjoyed by a population of zombies. It is common culture that is in crisis, and if there is a crisis in high culture then it is surely due to a crisis in common culture. That is, at least, how Vaughan Williams and Eliot would have diagnosed the situation. All is not lost. Within a five-mile radius of anywhere in England one is sure to find an oasis in which genuine common culture still survives: the English pub, the source of whose thirstquenching spring is found below in barrels. The true English pub is one of the last vestiges of Merry England. Here, conversation continues and friendships are renewed. The English pub is a home away from home, with real ale, pork scratchings, copper table-tops, and exposed beams. A true English pub should have these features. If a pub does
SPRING 2021
civil liberties, and charity are rife. All this is captured in the lines that were added to the print by James Townley: Beer, happy Produce of our Isle Can sinewy Strength impart, And wearied with Fatigue and Toil Can cheer each manly Heart… Genius of Health, thy grateful Taste Rivals the Cup of Jove, And warms each English generous Breast With Liberty and Love!
have these features, but relentlessly subjects you to the latest moronic pop music blasted out from speakers in every corner, then you should still take your cash elsewhere. I was delighted when, from the upper governmental spheres of the Latin Mass Society, a request came for me to occasionally devote my wine column to the work of Bacchus’s Nordic cousin, Aegir, and write in honour of beer. Beer was the tipple of Catholic England. Following the Inglorious Usurpation of 1688, William of Orange was instrumental in introducing a new drink to help his new subjects drown their joys at his new regime: gin. Gin was easy to make and cheap to buy. Most importantly, gin was strong. Gin helped the English to forget Merry England and accept Protestant England, where Our Lady was not to be honoured, having been replaced with ‘Lady Gin’ whom the drunks would toast before they blacked-out. The unceasing satisfaction of insatiable appetite took on an almost religious character (as it always does). In 1751, William Hogarth depicted this tragic situation in his famous print, Gin Lane. Less famous, though equally brilliant, is his portrayal of the antidote: Beer Street. The joys of Merry England are presented to us in Beer Street, where manners, cheer, hard work,
Merry England and beer belong together, and in 2018 this land was blessed with a beer both truly Catholic and English. Out of Mount St Bernard Abbey in Leicestershire came forth Tynt Meadow Ale. A true monastic beer to warm the heart with the joys of Our Lady’s Dowry, and strong enough even to satisfy any gin addicts. Though the Ampleforth Benedictines produce an excellent abbey ale, Tynt Meadow is a true Trappist Ale, having received the Authentic Trappist Products label and thereby becoming the twelfth official Trappist beer in the world. By mid-2019, Mount St Bernard Abbey had produced more than 30,000 bottles of Tynt Meadow and declared it was struggling to satisfy demand. I am familiar with Trappist Ales, having undertaken serious fieldwork in Belgian bars when I visited the newly restored Ghent Altarpiece in 2017. Tynt Meadow is certainly as good as any Belgian or Lowland Trappist Ale. I confess I have only tried it once, but I can instantly recall the taste. Tynt Meadow is like a brandy-soaked three-month aged fruitcake in a glass – a perfect winterwarmer. A word of advice: at 7.4%, one goblet of Tynt Meadow suffices (Trappist ales are always served in goblets). However, if you decide to have more than one, perhaps offer up your headache for the conversion of England.
41
