Yet let not the British be held up to reprobation as hard drinkers, as long as France is a going concern. Statistics prove that in Scotland, the land o’ the barley bree, the consumption of spirits during the year 1892–93 averaged a little more than twelve and a half pints per month, which is little more than the proportion of spirits required by the Parisians, without wine, absinthe, and—other things. The boulevardiers are called “temperate,” although they drink as much spirits as do the Scots, and thirty times as much wine, not to mention cider and beer.
Distilling in Britain dates from the eleventh {79} century, but in the beginning it was worked solely in the monasteries by the jovial monks. What a good time those monks of old would seem to have had! According to the popular prints they were usually engaged either in fishing, eating oysters, drinking out of flagons, catching beetles, confessing pretty women, or being shaved; and we know that their abiding-places were built, for the most part, on the banks of a river which absolutely swarmed with salmon or trout, in the midst of a district teeming with game. Any how the monks made spirits, or “strong waters” as they were called in those days, first.
Pure malt whisky is, and has been, made almost exclusively in Scotland. In Ireland they use about one-third of malt to two-thirds of oats and maize. In England they make whisky of pretty nearly everything, including German spirit, petroleum, and old boots; whilst in gallant little Wales—well the only acknowledged Welsh whisky I have tasted was excellent in quality, and apparently made from pure malt. Distilling, as a trade, commenced in England during the Tudor period, and from the reputation bluff King Hal bore for feathering his nest, it is probable that the industry was fully taxed. In 1579 Scotch distilleries were taxed for the first time. In Ireland as far back as the eleventh century the natives made uisge beatha—now called potheen—without interference from landlord or gauger, and continued at it until the sixteenth century, when licenses were enforced in the cases of all but the gentry, and to run an illicit still was {80} punishable with death and dismemberment. But they ran ’em just the same; for in those days an Irishman was never really happy unless he were drinking, fighting, or being sentenced to death. But whether it was English, Scotch, Welsh, or Irish whisky, or French brandy, or Dutch gin, smuggling and illicit distilling were rampant through the centuries, and the Inland Revenue officer was no more respected or worshipped than at the present day. Still there has not been much blood shed over those differences of opinion; except in Western Pennsylvania at the close of the last century—a period when the greater part of the universe was fighting about something—when it took 15,000 soldiers from Washington to quell a riot amongst a populace discontented with the Excise regulations.
Blending and diluting whiskies are for the most part done in the bonded warehouses. “All commercial spirit,” says an authority on the subject, “however pure, contains a small proportion of impurities” (which sounds Irish) “or by-products of distillation known as fusel-oil.” It will relieve the minds of some to know that fusel-oil is merely a by-product of distillation, and not the “low-flash” stuff which causes the accidents with the cheap lamps. It used to be thought that during the “maturing,” or “ageing,” of whisky the constituents of fusel-oil underwent decomposition; but my good friend Doctor James Bell, C.B., the chief Government analyst at Somerset House (he retired some three years ago), utterly refuted this theory by analysis.
Whisky is, like brandy, naturally white, and {81} takes its trade colour, and, to a certain extent, flavour, from the sherry-casks in which it is matured. It is also coloured by the direct addition of caramel (burnt sugar), or a maturing wine.
In America, Rye or Bourbon whisky is made from wheat or maize grown in the Bourbon country, Kentucky, and some of it would kill at forty yards. The chief distillery states on the other side of the Atlantic are Illinois, Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, New York, and Pennsylvania. At the Cape, and throughout South Africa, there is decent whisky procurable, as also a pernicious compound known as “Square-face” or “Cape smoke,” and in much favour with the dusky races of the country. On the Congo, palm-wine—similar to the fermented toddy of the East Indies—was for centuries the only livener, but with the march of civilization have come the whiskies of Great Britain, more or less adulterated; and whereas in the past death by the sword, or the club, was the only known punishment for the subjects of the native tyrants who are so fond of thinning out the population, a well-fuselled whisky is now freely employed for the same purpose.
Although whisky is now freely partaken of all over Great Britain, it was comparatively speaking despised in England until the first half of the present century had slipped by. This fact is apparent from a perusal of contemporary literature. And in no country has “malt” had such a rise in public estimation as in the great continent of Hindustan, where “John Exshaw” and “John {82} Collins”—the last named a seductive compound of gin, limes, Curaçoa, and soda-water—have been almost knocked out by John Barleycorn and Jean Pomme-de-terre. Until the visit of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, brandy was almost the sole potation of the heroes who helped to hold the big wonderland, the old-fashioned brandi-pani gradually giving place to the brandy diluted with Belati pani, or “Europe water.” Thirty years ago a “peg” meant a brandy-and-soda; but whisky has now usurped the proud position once occupied by the products of John Exshaw, Justerini and Brooks, and others.
CHAPTER VIII OTHER SPIRITS
Old Jamaica pine-apple — “Tots” for Tommy Atkins — The grog tub aboard ship — Omelette au rhum — Rum-and-milk — Ditto-and-ale — A maddening mixture — Rectifying gin — “The seasoning as does it” — Oil of turpentine and table-salt — A long thirst — A farthing’s worth of Old Tom — Roach-alum — Dirty gin — Gin and bitters — “Kosher” rum — An active and intelligent officer — Gambling propensities of the Israelites — The dice in the tumbler — Nomenclature at “The Olde Cheshyre Cheese” — “Rack” — “Cork.”
We now come to Rum, “superior old Jamaica pine-apple,” otherwise known as “sailors’ tea”—the spirit in question having from time immemorial been held in high esteem by mariners both afloat and ashore. Rum is probably one of the easiest beverages to make, being, simply, fermented and distilled cane-sugar. Occasionally pine-apples and guavas are thrown into the still, but in making this spirit on a large scale no attempts are made to add to its flavour and thereby deduct from the profits to be made on the commodity. It is coloured with caramel, and the longer you keep it the better and, therefore, the more valuable, it becomes. In the city {84} of Carlisle in the year 1865 some rum known to be 140 years old was sold for £3 : 3s. per bottle.