Excisemen, Illicit Stills and a Better Quality Scotch Whisky
In this article, the third in our ‘Exploring Whisky’ blog series, we look at how taxation, in a strange and roundabout fashion, played its part in the making of modern whisky.
Long before barrels were used to mature whisky, its popularity caught the eye of the government and, as night follows day, it was soon taxed. The first excise duty on ‘’everie pynt of aquavytie or strong watteris sold within the country’’ was introduced in 1644, but it was the imposition of the English Malt Tax following the Act of Union of 1707 that was to cause real difficulties for distillers.
Political expediency meant that the Malt Tax wasn’t actually introduced until 1725. Even so, it led to a wave of riots which were said the have left the country ‘virtually ungovernable’. The riots were largely due to the impact of the tax on beer prices – widely drunk as a safer alternative to water – but it also had a profound impact on how whisky was produced.
Legal distillers did what they could to minimise the tax they paid, but it was the growth of small illicit distilleries—and the endless game of cat and mouse with the excisemen—that came to characterise the whisky ‘industry’ in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
The Exciseman – or Gauger – was a widely hated figure at this time and, perhaps surprisingly given his revolutionary leanings, Robert Burns, Scotland’s national bard, became an exciseman in the late summer of 1788. Seemingly doing well in the job, being promoted in 1789 and remaining in post until his death in 1796, he humorously recognises how his profession was viewed in his poem ‘The Deil's (Devils) Awa Wi' Th' Exciseman’. Here the despised figure is carried off to hell by Auld Mahoun (the Devil):
“The deil cam fiddlin’ thro’ the town,
And danc’d awa wi’ th’ Exciseman;
And ilka wife cries, Auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o’ the prize, man.
The deil’s awa, the deil’s awa,
The deil’s awa wi’ the Exciseman,
He’s danc’d awa, he’s danc’d awa,
He’s danc’d awa wi’ the Exciseman.
We’ll mak our maut, and we’ll brew our drink,
We’ll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man,
And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil,
That danc’d awa wi’ th’ Exciseman.
The deil’s awa, the deil’s awa,
The deil’s awa wi’ the Exciseman,
He’s danc’d awa, he’s danc’d awa,
He’s danc’d awa wi’ the Exciseman.
There’s threesome reels, there’s foursome reels,
There’s hornpipes and strathspeys, man,
But the ae best dance ere came to the land
Was-the deil’s awa wi’ the Exciseman.
The deil’s awa, the deil’s awa,
The deil’s awa wi’ the Exciseman,
He’s danc’d awa, he’s danc’d awa,
He’s danc’d awa wi’ the Exciseman”
Illicit distilleries flourished in the remote highland glens and islands because they were difficult to find and, if the excisemen did get wind of what was going on, were difficult to approach unobserved. The illicit stills were small (all the better to dismantle if necessary) and the spirit was often stored in wooden barrels which could be readily concealed and transported.
These small stills increased the amount of copper contact, helping to remove unpalatable sulphur compounds from the spirit and promoting the formation of esters – aromatic compounds which contribute to the flavour and character of whisky. The use of small casks, even though they weren’t yet being used to mature the whisky for any real length of time, maximised contact with the wood and helped enhance its flavour.
This all meant that the illicit whiskies of the highlands and islands gradually became known for their superior quality. Indeed, when King George IV visited Edinburgh in 1822, he asked for Glenlivet whisky which, at the time, would have been illegally distilled. According to Elizabeth Grant of Rothiemurchus in her Memoirs of a Highland Lady: “The king drank nothing else!”
Further Reading;
Smugglers and Excisemen: The History of Whisky in Scotland, 1644 to 1823 - Sandra White, The University of Western Ontario
‘The Deil's (Devils) Awa Wi' Th' Exciseman’ - Robert Burns, circa 1790