Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

The matters employed in the adulteration are very many. Corianders, crushed almond cake, angelica root powdered, liquorice, cardamoms, cassia, cinnamon, grains of paradise, and cayenne pepper, and many more substances take the place of the berries of the juniper tree. As these substances frequently produce a cloudy appearance, the liquid is subsequently refined by other adulterants, such as alum, sulphate of zinc, and acetate of lead.

The variety of gin dear to ancient beldams, which is known as Cordial, is more highly sweetened and aromatized than the ordinary quality.

The alcoholic strength of gin as commonly sold ranges from 22 to 48 degrees. The amount of sugar varies between 2 and 9 per cent.

Gin is a beneficial diuretic, but the compounds sold under that name are too often detrimental in their effects.

A popular drink called gin-sling takes its name from John Collins, formerly a celebrated waiter in Limmer’s old house. The old lines on this drink ran as follows:—

“My name is John Collins, head waiter at Limmer’s,
Corner of Conduit Street, Hanover Square.
My chief occupation is filling of brimmers
For all the young gentlemen frequenters there.”

The poetry is very far from bad, and so was the liquor. It was a composition of gin, soda water, lemon, and sugar. John was abbreviated to gin and Collins to sling.

Gin has had many popular names, but why gin should be called Old Tom by the publicans and lower orders of London has sometimes puzzled those who are inquisitive enough to consider the subject etymologically. The answer may, perhaps, be found in a curious book, called “The Life and Uncommon Adventures of Captain Dudley Bradstreet, Dublin, 1755.” Captain Dudley, a government spy of the Count Fathom species, after declaring that the selling of Geneva in a less quantity than two gallons had been prohibited, says: “Most of the gaols were full, on account of this Act, and it occurred to me to venture upon the trade. I got an acquaintance to rent a house in Blue Anchor Alley, in St. Luke’s parish, who privately conveyed his bargain to me: I then got it well secured, and laid out in a bed and other furniture five pounds, in provision and drink that would keep, about two pounds, and purchased in Moorfields the sign of a cat and had it nailed to a street window. I then caused a leaden pipe, the small end out about an inch, to be placed under the paw of the cat, the end that was within had a funnel to it.

“When my house was ready for business I inquired what distiller in London was most famous for good gin, and was assured by several that it was Mr. L⸺dale, in Holborn.[66] To him I went, and laid out thirteen pounds.... The cargo was sent to my house, at the back of which there was a way to go in or out. When the liquor was properly disposed, I got a person to inform a few of the mob that gin would be sold by the cat at my window next day, provided they put the money in his mouth, from whence there was a hole which conveyed it to me.” This, by the way, is a rare anticipation of our automatic sweetstuff, scent, and other machines. To continue: “At night I took possession of my den, and got up early next morning to be ready for custom. It was over three hours before anybody called, which made me almost despair of the project; at last I heard the chink of money and a comfortable voice say, ‘Puss, give me two pennyworth of gin!’ I instantly put my mouth to the tube and bid them receive it from the pipe under her paw”—the cat seems to have changed its sex in this short interval of time—“and then measured and poured it into the funnel, from whence they soon received it. Before night I took six shillings, the next day about thirty shillings, and afterwards three or four pounds a day. From all parts of London people used to resort to me in such numbers that my neighbours could scarcely get in and out of their houses. After this manner I went on for a month, in which time I cleared upwards of two-and-twenty pounds.”

So far Captain Bradstreet, “but,” says the Editor of _Notes & Queries_, “the ghost of ‘old Tom Hodges’ will probably enter a protest against Captain Bradstreet’s cat.”

Another popular name for gin was used when Corinthian Tom and Jerry Hawthorn visited Bob Logic in the Fleet. Bob says, “Let us spend the day comfortably, and in the evening I will introduce you both to my friend the haberdasher. He is a good whistler,[67] and his shop always abounds with some prime articles that you will like to look at....” A glass or two of wine made them as gay as larks, and a hint from Jerry to Logic about the whistler brought them into the shop of the latter in a twinkling.

Hawthorne, with great surprise, said, “Where are we? This is no haberdasher’s. It’s a ⸺”

“No nosing, Jerry,” replied Logic, with a grin; “you’re wrong, the man is a dealer in tape.”

WHISKEY.

_Uisge-beatha_—“My Stint”—Its Manufacture—Good and Bad—Early
Mentions of Whiskey—Materials used in its Manufacture—St.
Thorwald—Duncan Forbes and Ferrintosh—Duty on Whiskey—Silent
Spirit—Artificial Maturing.

No matter in what country, wherever it was known, alcohol has been hailed as the Water of Life, even in the Gaelic. _Uisge-beatha_, or, as we term it, whiskey, bears literally that interpretation. This is “the wine of the country,” both in Ireland and Scotland, and the quantities drank, without any apparently hurtful effect, is astonishing to a southern Englishman. Northwards, on the border land, it is a question whether more whiskey is not drunk, _pro rata_, than in Scotland.

Still, even there, every one is not gifted, as was the Irishman spoken of by John Wilson Croker. He tells the story of a lawsuit, in which a life insurance company disputed a claim, on the ground that the death was caused by excessive drinking. One witness for the plaintiff was called, who deposed that, for the last eighteen years of his life, he had been in the nightly habit of imbibing _twenty-four tumblers of whiskey punch_. The cross-examining counsel wished to know whether he would swear to that, or whether he ever overstepped that limit. The witness replied that he was upon his oath, and would swear no farther; “for I never kept count beyond the two dozen, though there is no saying how many beyond I might drink to make myself comfortable; but _that’s my stint_.”

Good whiskey should be made solely from the finest barley malt, and is so made by the largest and best distillers; but the smaller ones, and those who are in a hurry to get rich by any means, use all kinds of refuse grain, and produce a spirit which, if drank new, is neither more nor less than rank poison. The fusel oil, which is present in all distillations from grain, requires time to resolve itself into those delicate ethers, which, while enhancing the flavour and bouquet of the spirit, are harmless. Good whiskey, properly matured, mixed with a sufficient quantity of water, and used in moderation, is a good and a wholesome drink, acting also in lieu of food.

When this life-giving liquor was discovered is uncertain. Edward Campion, in his _History of Ireland_, 1633, speaking of a famine which happened in 1316, says that it was caused by the soldiers eating flesh and drinking _aqua vitæ_ in Lent; and, in another place, he states that a knight, called Savage, who lived in 1350, having prepared an army against the Irish, allowed to every soldier, before he buckled with the enemy, a mighty draught of _aqua vitæ_, wine, or old ale.

Walter Harris, in his _Hibernica_, 1757, says that in the reign of Henry VIII. it was decreed that there be but one maker of _aqua vitæ_ in every borough town, upon pain of 6_s._ 8_d._; and that no _wheaten malt_ go to any Irishman’s country, upon pain of forfeiture of the same in value, except only bread, ale, or _aqua vitæ_.

In a little book, _Delightes for Ladies_, etc., 1602, is the following recipe for _Usquebath, or Irish Aqua Vitæ_:—

“To every gallon of good Aqua Composita, put two ounces of chosen liquerice, bruised and cut into small peeces, but first clensed from all his filth, and two ounces of Annis seeds that are cleane and bruised. Let them macerate five or six daies in a wodden Vessel, stopping the same close, and then draw off as much as will runne cleere, dissolving in that cleare Aqua Vitæ five or six spoonfuls of the best Malassoes you can get; Spanish cute, if you can get it, is thought better than Malassoes; then put this into another vessell; and after three or foure daies (the more the better), when the liquor hath fined itself, you may use the same; some add Dates and Raisons of the Sun to this receipt: those groundes which remaine, you may redistill, and make more Aqua Composita of them, and of that Aqua Composita you may make more Usquebath.”

The distillation of whiskey in Ireland, on a large scale, is of comparatively modern date, the _poteen_ having been manufactured in illicit stills, in inaccessible and unhandy places. Now, Roe’s distillery turns out over two million gallons a year, and Jameson’s more than a million and a half. The whiskey made by these firms, that of Sir John Power & Sons, and some others, is distilled from pure malt; but there are many distilleries that send out a spirit made from molasses, beet-root, potatoes, and other things, which cannot possibly be called whiskey, which has brought Irish whiskey somewhat into disrepute, to the great advantage of the Scotch distillers. Again, unmalted grain is used, which gives a practically tasteless spirit, which is almost entirely deficient in the grateful ethers, and is only so much raw alcohol and water, a very different article to that which occasioned the following verses:—

“Oh, Whiskey Punch, I love you much, for you’re the very thing,
To level all distinctions ’twixt a beggar and a king.
You lift me up so aisy, and so softly let me down,
That the devil a hair I care what I wear, a caubeen or a crown.

“While you’re a-coorsin’ through my veins I feel mighty pleasant,
That I cannot just exactly tell whether I’m a prince or peasant;
Maybe I’m one, maybe the other, but that gives me small trouble,
By the Powers! I believe I’m both on ’em, for I think I’m seein’
double.”

Scotch whiskey is the same as Irish, and should be similarly made from pure malted barley. No one knows when it was first made; but, until the time of the Pretender, it was hardly known in the Lowlands, being a drink strictly of the Highlanders. There is a tradition of a certain St. Thorwald, whose name may be sought for in vain in the pages of Alban Butler, who had a cell in the side of a hill looking upon the Esk. He is said to have possessed a wonderful elixir, famous for curing all diseases, and, consequently, he was resorted to by pilgrims both far and near. Could it be that he had a whiskey still? We know not; but to this day a spring on the site of his hermitage helps to supply the Langholm distillery.

Perhaps the earliest historical account of Scotch whiskey is the grant, in 1690, to Duncan Forbes of Culloden, in consideration of his services to William III., of the privilege of distilling whiskey, duty free, in the barony of Ferrintosh. Naturally, a number of distilleries were erected there, and Ferrintosh became the generic term for whiskey. In 1785 this grant was annulled on payment of £20,000 to the representatives of Duncan Forbes, a proceeding which Robert Burns thus wrote about, in his “Scotch Drink”:—

“Thee, Ferrintosh! O sadly lost!
Scotland laments from coast to coast!
Now colic-grips an’ barkin’ hoast
May kill us a’;
For loyal Forbes’ _chartered boast_
Is ta’en awa’.”

The Highland risings made the Lowlanders more familiar with this spirit; but it was a long time before the drink became general, and a far longer before it was generally introduced into England. “Bonnie Prince Charlie” got too fond of it, and his affection for strong drinks was life-long. George IV., on his visit to Scotland, thought the best way to popularise himself on his arrival was to call for, and drink, a glass of whiskey; and even our good Queen has tasted “Athol-brose.”

The manufacture of whiskey was encouraged for several reasons: first, that it gave employment; secondly, that it used up large quantities of grain, to the benefit of the farmer; and thirdly, it was hoped that it would, in many cases, supersede the French brandy, which was most extensively smuggled. But Government imposed so high a duty, that illicit stills sprang up everywhere, and contraband whiskey was universally drank, the smugglers openly bringing their wares down south, and in such force as to defy the Excise, and frequently the military. A wise step was then taken, and in 1823 the excise duty was lowered from 6_s._ 2_d._ to 2_s._ 4¾_d._ per imperial gallon, a proceeding which, in a year, doubled the output of exciseable spirits; but, by degrees, fiscal exigencies have raised it to 10_s._ per proof gallon. Now, the quantity of home-made spirits on which duty was paid for the year ending 31st March, 1890, is as follows:—

England. Scotland. Ireland.
_Galls._ _Galls._ _Galls._
12,636,060 9,463,012 7,521,998

or in all, 29,621,070 gallons, yielding a revenue of £14,810,522.

It would be invidious to particularize any of the large Scotch distilleries, which mostly owe their fame to the excellence of their malt and the extreme purity of their water, together with the fact that peat is extensively used as fuel, even to the drying of the malt; but “Glenlivet” has a name as world-wide as “Ferrintosh.” Do we not read in the _Bon Gaultier Ballads_ that—

“Fhairhson had a son
Who married Noah’s daughter,
And nearly spoiled ta flood,
By trinking up ta water;
Which he would have done,
I at least pelieve it,
Had ta mixture peen
Only half Glenlivet”?

It was such a famous place that, according to the _Ordnance Gazetteer of Scotland_, there were as many as 200 illicit stills there, in brisk work, at the beginning of the present century.

“Small still” whiskey is undoubtedly the best, for only good materials can be used, as the distillation carries over the flavour of the malt. Hear what Dr. Thudicum says[68]:—

“The product of the patent still derives its name from the fact that it is mere alcohol and water, having no distinctive qualities, telling no tales to nose or palate of the source from which it was obtained, and hence, in the almost poetic spirit of the trade, it is commonly called ‘silent spirit.’ The owner of a patent still, instead of being confined, like a whiskey distiller, to the use of the best materials, is able to make his spirit from any, even spoiled and waste, materials, and with little reference to any other quality than cheapness. The worst of the spirit thus produced is fit only for methylation, preparatory for being used for trade purposes, exclusive of consumption as a beverage. When intended for a beverage, it must be rectified and flavoured. It thus serves as a basis for the implanting of artificial flavours, which may be those of sham whiskey, sham brandy, or sham rum....

“The presence of grain ethers is the condition of the genuineness of whiskey. Silent spirit, on the other hand, undergoes no change by keeping, and must be flavoured to become drinkable. For that purpose it is either made smoky, to become like Scotch, or it is mixed with Irish pot whiskey, to become like Irish whiskey.”

There is yet another and a newer way of altering whiskey, which was shown in the Brewers’ Exhibition at Islington, October, 1890, and described in an advertisement in a morning paper as “A Transformation Scene; no Pantomime.” This new process of maturing spirits is by subjecting them to the action of compressed air confined in a close chamber. Nothing but atmospheric air is used, which is filtered through pure water before being compressed. The air chamber shown was a cylindrical vessel, which, in practice, would be some twelve feet high or more. It is supplied with a finely perforated floor, at a convenient distance below the top, and it has, besides, one or two lower floors of metallic gauze. The cylinder is charged with the liquor to be treated, and the compressed air is then let into it. The taps having been closed on the completion of this operation, a rotary pump keeps the liquor in continuous circulation as it passes through the floors in the form of a fine shower. As soon as it reaches the gauze floor it breaks up into spray, and, in this minute state of sub-division, it is acted on by the condensed air. This air, rising through a pipe, collects at the top of the cylinder, and in that way it is prevented from interfering with the steady flow of the shower. A slight circulation of the air is at the same time promoted. On the process being completed, the liquor is run into casks, and the air which remains in the vessel is allowed to escape, the quantity of alcohol in combination with it not being worth saving.

The object of this process is to bring about the oxidation of the essential oils contained in the whiskey or other spirit, and to promote their conversion into ethers. It is claimed that this transformation does take place, and that the spirit is changed from a new spirit, and has all the character, mellowness, and flavour of that matured by time. This change is said to be effected in twenty-four hours, and that the spirit has, in that period, put on a maturity of ten years.

J. A.

RUM.

Derivation of Name—Whence Procured—Its Manufacture—Its
Price—Trade Rum.

The etymon of the name of this spirit is somewhat dubious. Some have it that it was formerly spelt (as it now is in French) _Rhum_, and that it is derived from _rheum_, or ῥεῦμα, a flowing, on account of its manufacture from the juice of the sugar cane. Others say that, as rum has the strongest odour of any distilled spirit, it is a corruption of the word _aroma_.

Rum is made from the refuse of sugar, and can, of course, be produced wherever sugar is grown. This is notably the case in the West Indies, and the best rum comes thence. The finest, and that commanding the highest price in the market, is from Jamaica; Martinique and Guadaloupe perhaps come next; and Santa Cruz has a very good name. British Guiana, the Brazils, Natal, Queensland, and New South Wales all produce it.

It is made from molasses and the skimmings of the boiling sugar. Molasses is the syrup remaining after the separation of all the saccharine matter which will crystallize, and is a dense, viscous liquid, varying from light yellow to nearly black, according to the source from which it is obtained; but its distillation will not produce rum. Sugar or molasses, if distilled, will produce alcohol, but it will have no character of rum. This peculiar odour is imparted to it by the addition, in distillation, of “skimmings,” which are the matters separated from the sugar in clarifying and evaporation; that is to say, the scum of the precipitators, clarifiers and evaporators is mixed with the rinsing of the boiling pans, and is thus called. They contain all the necessaries of fermentation, and when mixed with molasses and “dunder,” which is the fermented wash left from distillation, are distilled into rum.

The odour of rum is very volatile; so much so, that it should be casked immediately after distillation. The raw spirit is extremely injurious; but it improves so much by age that, at a sale in Carlisle in 1865, rum, known to be 140 years old, sold at three guineas a bottle. Like all alcohol, rum, when distilled, is white, the colour being given to it, as it used to be in brown brandy, by caramel (burnt sugar). Much of the rum sold in England is made from “silent” spirit, flavoured with butyric ether; and it is this stuff which is sold as “trade rum” for export to Africa. Some years since an action was brought by an African merchant against the vendor of “trade rum” for damages caused by it to his trade. All went merrily till the negroes drank the rum, when it suddenly ceased, owing to its colouring their excreta red, probably owing to the colouring matter.

In the old days of punch drinking, rum was the great ingredient in that beverage, but its use has gradually died out, except among sailors, it still being served out in the navy, on account of its supposed warming qualities. Rum and milk, taken before breakfast, is also a beverage used very extensively.

J. A.

LIQUEURS.