Member-only story
Humbug Billy and the Great Poisoned Sweets Scandal of 1858
In 1858, a Bradford sweetmaker decided to cut a few corners. What happened next left twenty people dead and over two hundred seriously ill.
With the possible exception of the excruciating equine puns that should have long since been boiled into glue, the worst thing about the UK horsemeat scandal was the realisation that we could have been, and possibly still are, eating anything. Without access to sophisticated testing equipment at the dinner table, we’re all taking our meals on trust. Still, could be worse. No one, Black Beauty aside, died.
Food scandals haven’t always been quite so benign. In 1858 Bradford was rocked by a case of moody food that was so lethal, it actually warranted the label ‘scandal’, when chowing down on adulterated scran was practically routine.
Back then most of the food that people ate, particularly in poor urban areas, was a cocktail of whatever businesses could get away with cutting it with. Subject to fluctuating prices and intense competition, suppliers endeavoured to make genuine ingredients go as far as possible while keeping retail prices down. Displaying all the concern for consumer safety of your average street dealer, they would cut their wares with whatever cheap substance they could get away with.
Red cheese was coloured with red lead or vermillion, pepper was mixed with sawdust and, in a wheeze making grim truth of the expression ‘what’s your poison?’ beer was treated to a mickey finn of nux vomica, from which we get strychnine.
The Bradford scandal involved sweets. Although it resembled the work of a particularly vicious Child Catcher, there is some small comfort in the fact that it was at least partly accidental. Even so, the tendency to cut food with other substances was clearly to blame.
Humbug Billy
William Hardaker, blessed with the gloriously Victorian sobriquet ‘Humbug Billy’, ran a stall in Bradford’s Green Market. His stall was the customer facing end of a local supply chain that encompassed James Neal, a wholesale dealer who made the sweets at his premises on Stone Street.
