I confess that the above directions are somewhat vague to my untutored mind, which is quite a blank upon the subject of “blinckt and boyled” ale. Nor do I imagine for one moment that the “English Housewife” of the year 1899 will cumber herself with brewing or bottling, any sort of malt-liquor, as long as there be bonnets to be chosen, bicycles to be ridden, or golf to be played.
Wholesome as may be the beer in itself, its surroundings are not always hygienic. The system of pumping up the glorious fluid from the cellar through leaden pipes neither improves the flavour nor renders it more valuable as a morning “livener.” And there is a story—which I believe to be strictly true—told of a night cabman in London who used to call at the nearest tavern to his stand, the first thing in the morning, and swallow the first glass of beer drawn for the day. His end was lead-poisoning.
But there! John Barleycorn has probably done far more good than harm in his day; so let us toast the “Egyptian drink” in itself, the while we sing, in the words of the old song:—
Dang his eyes,
If ever he tries
To rob a poor man of his beer !
CHAPTER VII A SPIRITUOUS DISCOURSE
What is brandy? — See that you get it — Potato-spirit from the Fatherland — The phylloxera and her ravages — Cognac oil — Natural history of the vine-louse — “Spoofing” the Yanks — Properties of Argol — Brandy from sawdust — Desiccated window-sills — Enormous boom in whisky — Dewar and the trade — Water famine — The serpent Alcohol — Some figures — France the drunken nation, not Britain — Taxing of distilleries — Uisge beatha — Fusel oil — Rye whisky — Palm wine — John Exshaw knocked out by John Barleycorn.
“What is a pound?” was a favourite query of the great Sir Robert Peel. “What is brandy?” is a question asked now and then; and the answer thereto should be an ambiguous one. Brandy is supposed, by good easy people who trouble not to enquire too closely into the composition of their daily food, to be a liquid obtained by distilling the fermented juice of the grape. The red wines are preferable, although in the seventeenth century the best French brandy was made entirely from white ones. The original distillation is clear and colourless, but when placed in casks the liquid dissolves out the colouring matter of the wood, brown sugar and other pigments being also added. {73}
But if you want the best French brandy, distilled from the luscious grape, see that you get it; and let your vision be in thorough working order. With the exception of the good, conscientious spirit-distillers, all French houses import potato-spirit in large quantities from Germany, and re-ship it to the home of the brave and free as superior cognac. This alone would seem sufficient excuse for another invasion of France; although these evil-minded distillers seek to justify their actions by blaming the phylloxera, a little insect which has laboured more assiduously in the cause of temperance—by destroying the main source of intemperance—than Sir Wilfrid Lawson himself. “The ravages of the phylloxera,” say the distillers, in effect, “compel us to employ other matériel, in order to fulfil our cognac contracts with the merchants of the perfidious isle.” It is related of a theatrical “property-man” that, upon being rebuked by the tragedian for making a snowstorm out of brown, instead of white, paper, he replied curtly: “It was the only paper I had; and if you can’t snow white you must snow brown.” This excuse is on a par with that urged on behalf of the German potato-spirit.