ILLICIT DISTILLATION IN IRELAND.
The mountainous districts in the north of Ireland have long been famous for the manufacture of whisky—or as it is sometimes called when made without the concurrence of the revenue, ‘poteen.’ Until the last few years, the practice was exceedingly common, even within a few miles of towns of considerable size; but latterly the total output of spirits has been much reduced in quantity, and has been of inferior quality. Various causes have contributed to this. Formerly, the excise supervision was not so efficient as it has since become. Very often, Englishmen or Scotchmen were selected for Irish districts, and found the peasantry combined to a man against them. They were aided, too, by a body of police whose sole duties were the detection and exposure of frauds against the revenue, and therefore it was a clear issue between two parties, with a large body of spectators standing neutral, or rather, in the national spirit, strongly sympathising with those who were trying to evade the law. Besides, if the Squire—who was of course a magistrate—found an anonymous present of a five-gallon jar of poteen, why should he go and waste good liquor by giving it up, and perhaps by so doing get some of his own tenants into trouble! It was clearly none of his business; in which opinion his neighbours heartily shared, as they sipped it in punch at his festive board. The priest, too, was of the same mind; for as long as the ‘boys’ did not take too much, or beat their wives, or neglect attending mass, it was a very convenient way of turning an honest penny in those hard times. With the tacit concurrence of these two great social forces, the owner of the still had little to fear, and could carry on his lawless trade with comparative impunity. The possession of a common secret encouraged cordial relations between all classes and creeds, until they resembled the proverbial happy family. But the events of the last thirty years have changed all this, and have indirectly led to a large diminution of private distillation.
The first blow which it received was the disbanding of the revenue police about the year 1858, and the absorption of their duties, and the drafting of the most capable members of the force into the Royal Irish Constabulary. This body have a great many duties to perform: they keep the peace; act as public prosecutors in petty cases; distribute and collect the census papers and votes for poor-law guardians; make up the agricultural statistics; act as an armed drilled force in time of riot; and lastly, as detectives of crime and, since 1858, of illicit distillation. On account of these numerous functions, they are brought into contact with almost every individual in their district, not so much at the barracks as at their own homes; and the sight of an empty jar in an unlikely place, or an unusual abundance of spirits about a particular house, are signs not lost on the vigilant constable, and carefully stored up by him for future use.
Again, the improved means of transit in the mountainous districts have given the affairs of the inhabitants more publicity. Post-vans, mail-cars, and narrow-gauge railways, are everywhere furnishing certain and regular communication between the better populated and more civilised valleys and the poorer and less inhabited mountains. By these means, enterprising travellers have penetrated the backward districts, and been received with the customary hospitality of the Irish to strangers. They are occasionally even permitted to taste the native ‘mountain dew,’ and sometimes thoughtlessly bring their entertainers into trouble by incautiously boasting of their privileges before strangers. The information has been carried to the police force in the district in which the, alas! too confiding host resided, and has caused a watch to be set on him, resulting eventually in the discovery of the fountain-head.
But information of this kind is accidental, and therefore such cases are rare. The fact is that the chief sources of knowledge are, as might be expected from the analogy of other Irish conspiracies, from within the camp, which is sure to hold sooner or later some informer. A difference of opinion about the division of the spoil, a row amongst their womankind, or some such characteristic quarrel, leads to ill-feeling, and some impulsive member of the gang, in the haste of momentary spite, secretly informs the police. Then the customary and well-known scene follows. A force of constabulary fully armed steals out under cover of night, carefully surround the fated still-house, and advancing from all sides, simultaneously burst in upon the unfortunate distillers just as the outlying scout has brought word that the police are coming. Resistance, though sometimes attempted, is useless, and the dread guardians of the law proceed to destroy the prepared materials, seize the still, and quench the fire. Finally, the sad procession of police, prisoners, and utensils—the last being placed in a cart with the manufactured spirits—wends its way down the mountain-side to the nearest barracks. Then, at the next petty sessions of the district, all those who were found engaged, together with the tenant on whose holding the distillation was being carried on, are heavily fined, with the option of a severe term of imprisonment.
But what has conduced more than anything else to the diminution of illicit distillation has been successive bad harvests, rack-renting, and absentee landlords. These have produced agrarian outrages, and these in their turn have led to Coercion Acts, giving the constabulary night-patrol powers of a very comprehensive character. As the mountainous districts are the poorest, so the outrages have been more frequent there, and the police in seeking for those intent on committing crime, have often accidentally found those merely intent on distilling poteen. All these discoveries are treasured up, and care taken that the same practice will not again occur in the same place; and thus the opportunities for illicit distillation are gradually becoming fewer and fewer, and everything seems to point towards its total extinction.
The place selected for the operations of the distiller is usually some natural hollow, or a sheltered spot partially hidden by some overhanging rock. But occasionally there are much more habitable places prepared. A favourite example of this is an artificial cave dug out in the side of a high bank close to a stream, the proximity of which is always necessary for their operations. The entrance is generally concealed with great ingenuity by a luxuriant growth of furze and other shrubs. Inside, a raised seat of earth, on which some heather has been strewn, and a rudely built chimney, complete the structure. The functions of the chimney are not by any means exhausted by being brought up to the natural level of the earth. As is well known, burning peat has an easily recognisable odour, and if this drew attention to a wreath of smoke ascending in the midst of a field, the chances of a long life for the still-house would be very small. Instead, therefore, of being directly brought out, every conceivable artifice is employed to render the smoke invisible. Sometimes it is led into a drain; at others, into a thick growth of underwood; again, it is carried for some distance, and allowed to make its escape in such small quantities as to be practically imperceptible. In one case of which we knew, the still-house was underground in the vicinity of the owner’s cottage, and advantage of this was taken to convey the chimney up the earthen fence and effect a junction with the flue of the kitchen.
In some cases, a dwelling-house is chosen in such a locality as to defy suspicion. An example of this occurred in a market-town where distillation was carried on for many years in the main street within a hundred yards of an important constabulary barracks, and the owner in this case was said to have amassed a considerable amount of money. For aught that is known, many similar instances may still exist, as the shrewdness shown by the choice of such a hiding-place renders detection, except through treachery, a most unlikely event. It would be well perhaps to add, that in the case just related the proprietor of the still was a bachelor.
Having prepared a suitable place, the next thing is to procure a still and worm, which are usually manufactured by the local tinker. The still is generally made of strong tinned plate, and is of a cylindrical form, except the head, which is rounded and enlarged, in order to better collect the alcohol as it evaporates. The highest part of the head terminates in a tube, wide at first, but gradually becoming narrower, until it reaches the worm, which is a long tube curled into a spiral, and during work is always kept cold by immersion in water. It is sometimes made from tinned plate, but preferably of sheet-copper, as this material, in some mysterious way, is said to make better poteen.
The still having been procured, the materials from which the spirit is extracted must be obtained. Malt is, of course, the most important item, but in past times was very difficult to procure, as part of the excise officer’s labours, until the repeal of the malt tax, was to prevent its preparation in corn-mills, so that the still-owner had frequently to choose between making it for himself with imperfect appliances, or using an inferior substitute. This was either ordinary grain or treacle, generally the latter, from its portability, and the quickness with which it could be prepared. Indeed, the extra sale of treacle in particular districts has been a very trustworthy indication of the quantity of spirits being manufactured. In one village where some years ago the average sale was three casks a week, the present consumption is not more than one every two months. But perhaps this may result as much from the repeal of the malt tax as the decline in illicit distillation.
The malt or treacle is laid down in water somewhat under boiling-point, and allowed to remain there until it has attained to the consistence of thin water-gruel. It is now ready for fermentation, which is effected by means of yeast; and when this process is complete, the mixture is called ‘wash,’ and is now ready for distillation. The still is now filled with wash, and a gentle heat applied, vaporising the alcohol, which passes through the still-head, and is cooled back to its liquid form in the worm, at the lower end of which it is received by pans, crocks, ‘piggins,’ or indeed any vessel which will hold it. From these receptacles it is put into jars or casks—more commonly five-gallon ‘kegs’—and conveyed to a place of safety. When all the wash has been distilled, the articles employed are carefully hidden, a favourite place for the still and worm being under water in the neighbouring stream. Then nothing remains but the distribution of the spirits in such a manner as to realise a handsome profit. This is an operation demanding all the craft of the distiller. To dispose of it to his immediate neighbours would be to disclose his secret, and they would either demand the poteen for nothing, or denounce him if he refused to give it. It must therefore be conveyed to a distance, and sold to some publican at such a price as will amply compensate both parties for their risk. As the publican must keep a record of all the spirits he receives, he incurs the danger of having material on his premises which is not entered in his stock-book; as a rule, therefore, the poteen is mixed with whisky resembling it in flavour, and the blend sold as the original.
In order to get the jar or cask safely into the town, the distiller usually envelops it in straw or hay, and tries to pass it off as innocent fodder; or another plan is to place it in the centre of a cart of turf, and on selling the turf to the proper person, its removal is easy, though occasionally even more ingenious methods are resorted to.
Fortunes acquired by means of illicit distillation have given rise to a very curious taunt amongst the inhabitants of the north-west of Ireland. When it was intended to convey to any person in the strongest possible manner that his pride in his family circumstances was only that of an upstart, the common expression for this was: ‘Your grandmother was Doherty ——, and wore a tin pocket.’ The origin of this saying was as follows. The northern part of the county of Donegal, particularly the district of Innishowen, is largely peopled by persons of the name of Doherty and O’Doherty. In past times, one of the best means of smuggling poteen into Londonderry and other towns in the vicinity was by a tin flask carried by the women in their pockets. Hence the expression.