“The Distilling Processes. When this is done, which generally takes five days, the fermented liquor is conducted to the ‘wash’ charger, and from thence pumped to the intermediate charger, where it is heated before undergoing the first process of distillation, which now takes place. The still is a vast copper vessel, shaped exactly like an inverted funnel, with the pipe leading to the roof. The ‘wash’ or liquor from the charger is conducted into this vessel. Beneath it are two furnaces, which soon raise the temperature of the vessel to boiling point. When evaporation commences the steam (which is the spirit, and is technically known as ‘low wines’) is conducted up the copper pipe into a refrigerator, known as the ‘worm.’ This worm is, in reality, a continuation of the pipe of the still twisted into regular coils in and about a vessel filled with the coldest water obtainable. By this means the steam is converted into liquor. This liquor passes into the close safe, a glass vessel somewhat like an aquarium tank. The distiller stands by and watches the running liquor, and his practised eye and educated palate immediately detects any fault in the distillation. He is not allowed to open his tank, however, except by notice in the presence of the excise officer, one or more of whom are always present in every distillery. Through this tank it runs into ‘low wines’ receiver, a large tank placed below, and from these it again passes to ‘feints chargers’ en route to the ‘low wines still,’ where the second distillation takes place. I forgot to say that the refuse liquor left after the first distillation is much valued by farmers for its milk-producing qualities, and is bought up by them for cow food. The refuse liquor from the second distillation, however, is only water, and the refuse liquor from the third and final distillation is water also.
“The second distillation is like the first—the same process of ‘worm’ cooling, conducting, and charging is carried on. The third still is known as the spirit still. The spirit is now considered perfect, and is led off to the large vats in the spirit stores, where it is reduced to desired strength, racked off into casks, and removed to bonded warehouses for maturity.
Such are the processes carried on here—such are the processes carried on by all honest distillers during the last century; but modern science has discovered that many very common—tasteless, I grant, but easily flavoured—vegetables will yield ardent spirits, and there are not wanting those who will take advantage of the discovery.
“Within a Distillery. But the distillery itself, who can describe it—its story upon story of granaries—its kilns, floored with perforated tiles—its steeping vats and its low-roofed malting sheds—its roaring mills—its terrible and mysterious tanks—its inextricable machinery—its innumerable rafters and false roofs—its ladders perched up in inaccessible places—its bewildering passages—and far away, above all, its immense chimneys towering up to the sky? But this is not all—the bonded warehouses have to be gone through. The excise officer has to be called, and the sealed lock has to be broken, and you enter into the vast cool place. Black as night is everything around you; the lamps which the attendants hold are utterly incapable of dissipating the darkness, and only cast a strong orange glare upon the faces of the men who hold them. To show one the dimensions of the place a man is sent to the opposite end. Away he goes, only traceable by the lamp he bears, and before he waves it to show that the opposite end of the vault is reached, it has become a scarcely discernible glimmer. As we become more used to the darkness we see straight passages leading in every direction, and lined on every side by barrels piled almost to the ceiling.
“The North Mall. The first of the Cork distilleries I visited was the one at North Mall, formerly, and, in fact, still known as Wise’s. It is in a western suburb of the town out among the meadows. The Lee winds its silvery course between tall alders close by it, and a branch stream is made to do much of the work of the immense manufactory. On approaching it it has a picturesque effect. It lies underneath a tall bank, over which the road to Sunday’s Well leads. Looking down from this road the whole of its vast dimensions can be taken in at a glance. The extensive yard, where one would imagine enough coal was stored to supply the whole city, is being raised from the adjoining fields. I was looking over an old history of Cork, published by a certain Dr Smith, over a century ago, and I find that formerly on this spot a Franciscan monastery stood. Such discipline was preserved here that it was called the Mirror of Ireland, and their sacerdotal character was so great that they had the power of curing sore eyes. The only remains of this ancient edifice now visible is a carved stone built into the wall of the great bonded warehouses in the Sunday’s Well Road. It was here that the noted water oozed out of the red-stone rock Whether it is ever now used in making the
agreeable beverage manufactured from the old whisky stored below I did not ascertain. These old Franciscan fathers had, doubtless, a good cellar of their own; but what would they have said of the vast, well-filled vaults which now are found upon perhaps the identical spot? But, large as these are, they are not large enough for the requirements of the distillery, and other extensive premises have been secured in Leitrim Street, which are now used as bonded warehouses.
“The whisky produced at this distillery is, if possible, still better now than it was in Wise’s time; the same distiller who worked the concern for him for twenty years is still there, and none but the very finest description of malt and barley (a large proportion of the former) is used. Its production, as well as those of the other two distilleries of the company, gained a first-class medal last year at Philadelphia, and the jurors described it as ‘very fine, full flavour, and good spirit.’ As a natural consequence, there is a demand for this whisky all over the world, and there are very few large towns in either hemisphere where it is not represented by an agent.
“The ‘Watercourse,’ By-the-bye these lie on our way to the celebrated Watercourse Distillery, the second of those used by this great firm. Entering through the broad portals, long ranges of old-fashioned buildings spread out on every side. Here is the mill, gaunt and square and stolid; those jealously guarded doors to the right are the bonded warehouses; the buildings across the yard are devoted to the coopers’ and smiths’ work, which in all three distilleries is done on the premises.
That tall black and white building far away on the opposite side is the grain store; this, nearer to you, with the irregular roofs, the complicated piping and open walled structures running away overhead, is the distillery proper. This distillery is about of equal size to that at North Mall. It has an older and more venerable appearance. It turns out as good and extensive work, and, like it, is not satisfied with the extensive storing facilities at its command, but must needs go abroad to an old, unused distillery, further in the suburbs, where it hides most of its rich and treasured productions. A picturesque old place is this; the ruins of the old works are still standing, and their architecture is such that it only requires a mantle of ivy to transform it into a remnant of feudal savagery.
“The Midleton Distillery. The company have handsome and extensive offices on Morrison’s Island, in the centre of the city, and close to the water’s edge. Here the directors sit day after day, and the scores of clerks attend to the interests of 4000 customers. But I cannot linger here, for I have another distillery to visit. Another, the brightest of all, far out in the beautiful country, at the town of Midleton, situate at the north-east extremity of Cork’s magical harbour. Approaching