Irish Whiskey Pt. 6: Did the 1785 Malt Tax Lead To Pure Pot Still Whiskey? // Boann Distillery

Transcript

THE DESTRUCTION OF SHAWFIELD MANSION

The scene - utter chaos. The stately mansion swarmed upon like ants to a crust of bread. Angry men climbing in through hacked up doors and smashed windows, making their way down into the wine cellar and returning with bottles of imported wines and brandies, relieving them of their corks, and pouring their contents down vengeful throats.

This riotous activity was no random act. The madding crowd was out for retribution. It was all but certain their representative in parliament, MP Daniel Campbell had just sold them out to the English Parliament by voting for a debilitating tax - a tax whose denial 18 years before, many felt, was the only reason their country was tied to this foreign power - and the only reason Daniel Campbell held sway in London over their futures. 

As the excise men rode into town, Daniel’s conspicuous absence from the mansion told the people all they needed to know. And amazingly, even though he was a safe distance from the demolition of his home, Daniel would somehow find a way to ratchet up the anger of the crowd even more, resulting in the dead bodies of his countrymen lying in the street. Yet the dreaded malt tax and the violence that followed, would have for whisky lovers, a monumental effect on the creation of two whisky empires. 

THE MALT TAX

At the beginning of the 18th century, for commoners in England, Scotland, and Ireland beer was a staple of life, especially where the quality of drinking water was questionable. In 1697, the English Parliament was in need of tax revenue to fill the coffers after an expensive century of war as well as for keeping up with the French and Spanish colonization of the new world. To raise this money, they placed a burden of 6 pence tax on a bushel of malt sold by English malt houses to English brewing houses and still houses. The Irish avoided the tax, likely because there was already enough bad blood between the English and Irish Catholics without piling on another issue. 

The Scots were still a sovereign nation, even though England and Scotland had shared a century of monarchs, so for the time being, they were free of concern for their beloved beer. 

With the death of a childless Spanish king, a power grab began in continental Europe with the House of Bourbon uniting Spain and France. The subsequent War of Spanish Succession, England found itself in conflict with the unified nations. When Queen Anne, who was having trouble conceiving a child herself, the fragility of the alliance between Scotland and England became evident. To keep Scotland from siding with her enemies, the queen moved to solidify the connection between the two. 

An Act of Union was hotly debated and after many twists and turns, it was down to one major sticking point - the malt tax. Scotland’s economy was in a bad state, so this high tax burden would be hard to bear for the average Scot. Plus, Scotland wasn’t fighting wars and colonizing, why should they pay for English wars of which they would see little benefit? An article of the act was written to exclude Scotland from any duty on malt, until the conclusion of the War of Spanish Succession. It was signed in January of 1707.  

To the people of Scotland, the matter was settled. That is until the war with House of Bourbon came to a close in 1713. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Scottish malt tax once again came before Parliament. Angered, the Scots filed a motion to repeal the Acts of Union if the tax were imposed. The call for repeal failed by only four votes. It was too close for comfort and the tax was once again shelved.

Three years later, a 42 year old Glaswegian merchant named Daniel Campbell would take his seat in the British House of Commons. Tall in stature and known for his wealth, he had earned the nickname Great Daniel. And he wasn’t shy about showing off his good fortune. In 1711, he would take monies he had earned trading tobacco, iron ore, and in the African/Carribean slave trade and build Shawfield Mansion right in the center of Glasgow. His reputation grew in the town and his time as an MP was fairly peaceful. That is, until December of 1724, when that pesky Scottish malt tax once again found itself being put up for a vote. 

In the early 1720s, England’s economy was shaky after a financial bubble created by speculation in the South Sea Company. The chancellor of the exchequer Robert Walpole was seen as the perfect man to lead the country out of its financial crisis. He looked to take the financial burden of taxation off of the producers and place more on the consumers. Once again the 6 pence Malt Tax would be before the House of Commons. Many in the House felt the Scots had grown complacent and wouldn’t put up a fight. But MP Daniel Campbell pleaded with his cohorts, this is too much, it will immediately create unrest. A compromise was struck and the burden lowered only for the Scots from 6p to 3p. With this adjustment, Campbell voted for the tax. 

The next six months, before the law took effect, the Scots intensely lobbied to have the tax rescinded. The threat of civil unrest looked like a fore drawn conclusion. Pamphlets proclaimed barley was the only healthy commodity in the Scottish economy and the burden would crush them. 

But nothing stopped the tax, and on June 1st it went into effect. 

When excise men arrived in Hamilton on the 23rd, things quickly escalated and a full scale riot ensued. In Glasgow, upon seeing the excise men coming into town and hearing of the unrest, citizens near the Tollbooth, began to chant, led by a woman named Janet Hill. The provost Charles Miller, seeing her as an instigator, arrested her, but then quickly released her when the crowd became unhinged. As evening fell, the mob was ready to take action against those who had caused this great calamity - ‘Down with Walpole, down with Mr Campbell, down with the Malt Tax’ they yelled as the mob pushed its way up Trongate to Glassfield Street. There stood the Campbell’s Shawfield Mansion in all of its glory. Instantly bricks smashed the windows and hatchet wielding maniacs broke down the doors. And not only did they liberate Daniel’s priceless wine from the cellar, they stole anything not battened down and rendered the house uninhabitable. 

Far away, Daniel had had an inkling something like this might occur. He put out a call for troops. Arriving the next morning, a force under the command of Captain Bushell paraded through town. When they reached the Guard House where the mob had gathered, Bushell ordered his men to line up, pelted with rocks and stones, in a scene that would be eerily similar some 45 years later in Boston.  Without the reading of the riot act, or the firing of warning shots, as was legally required - Bushell ordered the men to fire on the crowd. In an instant, more than two dozen bodies lay bloody on the ground, 8 or 9 of them dead, the rest wounded.  Fed up, the angry mob stormed the town magazine, looking to load up with as many weapons as they could. Provost Miller told the Captain to get his men out of there. More would die as they chased the troops out of town. 

Glasgow would calm, but other towns would face riotous uprisings as well and Edinburgh would see a dangerous brewers strike that sought to create more unrest. Only the arrival of General George Wade from his duties in the Highlands would settle things down. 

In the end, Parliament would get their way - the malt tax was to remain in Scotland and the prices for bread and beer would increase. Captain Bushell was brought up on charges of murder and was found guilty, but would receive a royal pardon. Glasgow’s council, seen as complicit in the riots, were arrested and the city was ordered to pay 10k pounds in damages to the Parliament. 

What Does The Glasgow Malt Riot Have To Do With Irish Whiskey?

Now, you might be asking yourself, Drew, why are you spending 11 minutes of an episode based on Irish whiskey talking about Scotland’s malt riots in 1725?

Well, it has to do with a statement I heard over and over again while traveling to distilleries in Ireland. Whenever the topic of Old Irish Pure Pot Still whiskey came up, it would be pointed out that what made that whiskey unique was its use of malted and unmalted barley. And that unmalted barley really is a wonderful addition to a whiskey. But the story that always followed it was the story of how Irish farmers began using unmalted barley to avoid a malt tax placed on the Irish in 1785. It’s a great story, but is it true? 

Moments of doubt began to creep in when I learned of the 1697 English tax on malt. At first I thought, well, since Ireland was under England’s monarchy, maybe the tax actually hit them some 88 years earlier? But nowhere in the records could I find the Irish parliament passing on the English laws, as they were required to do in those days.  

Then I learned of the Scottish malt tax riots. There is no doubt whisky was being distilled in Scotland at the time, in fact, the Scottish Parliament had created their first excise tax on whisky in 1644. But the tax in 1725 seemed to lay the bigger burden on beer and bread than it did on malt for whisky. 

But the unmalted barley smoking gun is provided some 9 years before the Irish malt tax, when, of all people, Scottish economist Adam Smith, wrote in his seminal 1776 work, the Wealth of Nations, a formula he deemed the basic mash bill for whisky of that time - “in what one called malt spirits, it makes up but a third part of the materials, the other two being raw barley or one third barley and one third wheat.”

What Smith doesn’t tell us is who was using this mash bill. The Scots, the Irish, or both?

Well, remember when I teased  you at the start of this episode saying the 1725 Malt Riot brought us two whisky empires? If you think I’m about to hand the creation of what became known as Old Irish Pure Pot Still to the Scots and give them credit for the whiskey that made Ireland a whiskey empire, you would be mistaken. 

Just like the origins of whiskey itself, trying to find the origins of the use of unmalted barley is a fool’s errand. If distillers in Ireland and Scotland were tossing aromatics into Uisce Beatha and even into the early forms of the spirit when it was finally earning the name whiskey in the early 1700s, then who's to say they weren’t distilling unmalted barley throughout the 16th and 17th centuries? They distilled other grains like wheat, corn, rye, and oats - why not unmalted barley. The farmers of that day cared less about consistency in what they distilled and more about saving crops and maybe having something to sell, barter, or to pay rents. And malting grains takes time and energy away from farming, so if smaller amounts of malted barley work fine for conversion, so be it. 

So, while it is a fun story, just know the fable about the 1785 malt tax wasn’t what created Old Irish Pure Pot Still whiskey, just as Elijah Craig didn’t have an immaculate fire that miraculously only burned the insides of his barrel. Or that you can somehow char the smell of fish out of a barrel. It's a fun story and it might have accelerated the use of unmalted barley, but the style was around long before 1785.

So if I wasn’t talking about the Pot Still empire Ireland created, what were the two whisky empires that came out of the Malt Riots? 

Well, the man General Wade sent to arrest the town council in Glasgow was Lord Advocate for Scotland Duncan Forbes, the son of the third Laird of Culloden - also named Duncan Forbes, whose Ferintosh distillery is considered the first licensed distillery in Scotland’s history. It earned that distinction after the original distillery, built sometime in the 1660s, was burned to the ground during King James II’s last gasp attempts to hold onto power in 1689. As a concession for the loss, the Scottish government gave Forbes tax exempt status for his distillery in perpetuity. This positioned Forbes distillery perfectly as the Scots moved from highly taxed beer to his duty free whisky. In fact, Forbes distillery would grow so large that by the 1760s, it would represent two-thirds of all whisky distilled in Scotland. 

And for the other empire: Remember our anti-hero, the MP Daniel Campbell? Well, life would take a strange twist for him. That 10k pound fine that was levied on the City of Glasgow, guess whose pocket most of that ended up in? Yup, Daniel Campbell. Having lost Shawfield Mansion in the riot, his buddies in parliament would generously award Campbell 6,080 pounds to rebuild his mansion and a reported 3k extra pounds for the loss of his possessions. 

With all of this cash, Daniel would reach out to a fellow MP, John Campbell of Cawdor - a man he had bailed out 2 years earlier when he allowed the man to mortgage two islands he owned that had been the cause of his family’s financial misfortune over a century. Seeing an opportunity to secure the two islands for himself, Daniel asked John Campbell what his all in price would be to buy the two islands. An additional 6k pounds he said, along with the assumption of debts that totaled near 4k pounds. With his payment basically covered by the riot money, Daniel Campbell would take full possession of the Isle of Jura and its neighbor, the Isle of Islay. 

Daniel would work tirelessly to change the fortunes of these depressed islands. With easy access to the sea and his merchant experience, he attracted trade and business to Islay. He helped institute farming methods that moved the island from low yielding bere barley to a more profitable barley that could be used in whisky production. His grandson Daniel the Younger, would pick up the mantle and built a circular church on a hill overlooking Loch Indaal, and designed the layout for a town he would call Bowmore. Within a decade he had enticed his friend William Simson, a distiller, to take over a piece of property, where in 1779, he would establish the island’s first licensed distillery. When Irish whiskey would see its decline in the 20th Century, Islay would take over as the most famous island in the whisky world.

BOANN

Back to the present at Boann Distillery, Sally Anne had left me in the capable hands of head distiller Michael Walsh and we dug into some of the things he and the team have been experimenting on. He talked about the different types of barrels they were laying down, the yeast strains he had tried out, the various pot still recipes, his interest in working with rye, especially being that just a small quantity could make such a difference in a mash bill.

We talked about their focus on pot still whiskey and again I saw a distillery with mash tun and lauter tun, except this time Michael referred to the first as a mash converter - more terminology for me to dig into. He showed me the Italian stills from Green Engineering, who custom designed them to Pat Cooney’s specs. Noticing an hour had slipped by, Michael asked me if I wanted to step upstairs and meet Pat and do some tasting.

As soon as Pat saw me, he immediately asked if I played basketball. I think he might be the first on this side of the Atlantic to ask me that question. 

We got into a conversation about the unique design elements of the pot stills. He told me, after 50 years in the drinks industry, he had learned a bit about what made a good distillate - with more copper contact being a source of a cleaner distillate. They put ridges in the lyne arms above the pots to create more contact. He also wanted a way to create more reflux, something he said thought was important, but is something he doesn’t hear as much about.So on the necks of the second and third stills, there are pipes that worm around inside the still called reflux coils. Here they have a valve that allows them to add as much cool liquid in as they want. Where other distilleries are stuck with the shapes of their stills and the specific reflux those designs give them, this control of reflux is like having the ability to choose if they want a heavier or lighter distillate, depending on what they are making. 

As we sipped on their award winning new make, they showed me the new make kit they had put together from their historic mash bill experiments. Michael said they had originally created 12 recipes but only 10 ended up in the kit. It is my understanding all of those kits were sold, so we’ll have to wait and see how many of those mash bills might be used in future creations.

The whiskey they have on the market currently goes by the name The Whistler. I had asked Sally Anne earlier on why they went with a name other than Boann. She said that since The Whistler was liquid being sourced, they didn’t want to give people the impression it had been made there. 

The Whistler seemed a curious name, so I asked about its origins. Apparently the family struggled to find a name for quite some time. It popped in Pat’s son James’ head a couple hours after the clock struck midnight on New Year's Day.  James loved to whistle, but it was the family patriarch and founder of the distillery Pat that was a master at the craft. It seemed the perfect name, so everyone jumped on board. 

When Pat was getting up to leave, he asked me if there was anything else I needed to know before he left. I sat there in quiet amazement as he worked his way flawlessly through an old Irish tune. I gotta say, it's true, whistling is truly a lost art.

For all of my detailed planning, sometimes you just have to go with where your energy is. I had planned to head into Drogheda to enjoy some fish and chips, but I’d spent 5 hours at Boann and it was almost 8. I headed straight for my B&B in Dundalk and hoped there would be someplace close by to get something to eat. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. After walking quite a distance, I ended up getting a personal sized pizza in the only restaurant that seemed to be open. It was a cash only establishment, which made me thankful I had some Euros in my pocket. 

Things were starting to catch up with me. I made my way up to my room, excited for the prospects of the next day, but also a little wiped out. At Boann, I told Michael I was a bit nervous about meeting, the legendary godfather of Irish whiskey John Teeling. He said, “well, when I met him, he asked me if I wanted some tea and then went and made it for me.” I chuckled, “yeah sounds like I’ve nothing to worry about.”

I laid down on my comfortable bed, and before I dozed off, took a few moments to check in on Alfred Barnard and his 19th century companions as they headed to Jones Road Distillery in Dublin. 

Jones Road

THIS Distillery is situated on the historic river Tolka, in one of the most picturesque suburbs of Dublin, and close to the estuary of Clontarf. From any point it commands fine views of Howth, a peninsula of considerable extent, which from its height and situation has been considered not unlike Vesuvius, in the Bay of Naples; it is the most prominent feature in the scenery of the north side of the City, and contains, besides an ancient castle that has been spoiled by modern restoration and whitewash, a very interesting abbey ruin which contains many curious tombs; it was founded in 1228, and is situated close to the sea in the quaint little town of Howth. The beautiful plains of Clontarf stretch from Howth to the Distillery, and the whole country round is rich in historic memories; here, within a hundred yards of the Distillery gates was wrought out the grandest chapter in Ireland’s history, and the Danish power in Ireland crushed for ever by King Brian Boromhe, who, in the year 1014, with his powerful native princes and chieftains, fought and totally defeated the Danes on the plains of Clontarf. The Danish Commander commenced the battle early on Good Friday morning, and the venerable King Brian - he was eighty-eight years old - addressing his army, held aloft in his left hand a crucifix, and wielding his good broad-sword in his right, called upon them through the mercies of Christ who had died for them upon that holy day, to summon up their utmost strength and extirpate for ever the base confederate pirated before them. The battle lasted all through the day, and the Irish totally defeated and routed the Danes; but alas! the triumph of the conquerors was dimmed by the death of their grand old king, and also that of his son, the lion-hearted Mortogh (who performed prodigies of valour), his brave nephew, many princed and nobles, and eleven thousand of his valiant soldiers.

The river Tolka flows through the grounds of the Distillery, pursuing its course to the sea, distant but a few hundred yards; it rises high up beyond the valley of the Tolka, and its water is used for driving power only. There is a fine well on the premises one hundred feet deep, but the water used for distilling purposes is brought through a mile of pipe from the high level of the Royal Canal; no other distilling firms other than Messrs. John Jameson & Son and the Dublin Whisky Distillery Company have access to this water.

The following is a brief description of this the most modern of the Distilleries in Dublin; it was commenced on the 22nd day of July, in the year 1872, and on the 22nd day of July, 1873, the Company were mashing; thus showing what Irish enterprise is capable of doing. The Distillery buildings are a fine stately work in red brick, some sixty-five feet high; at a distance the place looks like some public building, the architect having given it that character. The chimney stack, one hundred and thirty-five feet high, is also built of red brick, handsomely designed, and of great ornamentation; it rears its proud head from the centre of the courtyard in front of the gateway, and at a distance looks like a monument built to commemorate the virtues of some dead hero. The Distillery is partly surrounded by water, and is approached by a picturesque bridge; just before passing the works the river falls over a fine weir or waterfall.

The grain is received from the factors and farmers under a verandah or covered siding, and dropped into a cylinder on the sub-ground floor, from whence it is elevated to the different lofts and kilns, and depositing where required by means of continuous screws. There are five large corn lofts, elegantly lighted and ventilated, contiguous to which are two spacious Kilns, floored with perforated iron plates. The Malt Deposit is a spacious apartment, and adjoins the Mill, which contains eight pairs of stones, and the usual grinding machinery. Shut off from the Mill, by two sets of fireproof doors, is the Grist Loft, capable of holding 4,000 quarters, and underneath is the Mash House, where are two large Mash Tuns with the usual stirring gear, capable of working together or separately; each Tun has the new covers and curtain exclosures to prevent the loss of the fine grist. In close proximity hereto the Brewer has a capital office with glazed sides, enabling him at all times to see the whole of the operations in this important department. In the Tun Room there are eight Washbacks, and the usual number of Wash Chargers. The three Spent Wash Tanks are away in the court-yard, conveniently arranged for dairymen and farmers.

There are two powerful engines, one of them working up to 100-horse power, and three boilers 30 feet long by 8 feet in diameter; over these boilers are placed the four brewing tanks. There is a Leffel Turbine Wheel, the only one in use in any Distillery in Ireland, fixed in the middle of the stream, with a water power equal to 50-horse power; the shafting of the large engine is attached to this wheel.

The Still House, or Distillery proper, is upwards of 60 feet high, with a double tier of wide iron galleries like those in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. This building contains four “Old Pot Stills” on the ground floor, and on the first gallery there is an excellent Safe and Sampling Safe, Spirit Receivers, &c. on another gallery up in the roof are the Coolers, and four of Morton’s Refrigerators, and on the outside, communicating with this gallery, there are two Worm Tubs 28 feet square and 15 feet deep. The large Maltings connected with this Distillery are situated in Russell Place and Cork Street, and the Midland Railway is only a short distance off. There are four Warehouses, one a two-decker building, also a fine Spirit Store. The Cooperage, Stables, Cart Sheds, Smiths’ and Carpenters’ Shops, are at the back of the works, whilst there is a handsome terrace of offices

It may here be mentioned that the six Directors, are business men, and have devoted themselves to the development of this business. The product made is of the highest class of Dublin make; only the best corn is used, and the distiller is a practical and experienced man. The Distillery is worked entirely by gravitation, the machinery is of the most modern style, and only “Old Pot Stills” are used.

The annual output is 560,000 gallons, but the Company could make nearly 800,000 gallons if required. The Whisky is sent to England, and is also shipped to India and the Colonies.

GREAT NORTHERN 

There’s nothing like a full night's rest and having your first distillery appointment right next door to your B&B and at 10 AM. I filled up on Irish breakfast while trying to tune out the annoying morning announcers on the radio, who were trying to stir up controversies with their audience.

I knew exactly where I was going, because I had walked by the building the night before. The Great Northern Distillery, once the Great Northern Brewery and home of Harp Beer. And although I did sort of know where I was going, the place is surrounded by a brick fence and the old office building doesn’t have a street facing door. I asked someone walking by, but even they weren’t sure. I finally bumped into the industrial looking entrance down the hill and talked the person in the gatehouse. They called to the offices to see if my host, John Teeling was in. They gave me a badge and the Distillery Manager Brian Watts  came down to meet me. He apologized and said John was delayed, but that he would be happy to chat with me for a few moments until he arrived. 

Brian took me upstairs in the historic brick building that fronts the operation and offered me a coffee. We hit it off right away, especially when I noticed his Scottish accent and started peppering him with questions. He had worked for William Grant & Sons (the owners of Tullamore, Glenfiddich, and the Balvenie) along with North British, a large scale grain distillery in Edinburgh. If I still felt a little awkward in understanding Irish whiskey, I at least had a guide who had seen the scotch world and had five years experience transitioning to the Irish whiskey world.

Brian also surprised me when he mentioned that he had a great affection for American rye whiskey and that he was doing a lot of work with it. I knew I was in good hands. 

As we sipped our beverages, he pulled down a blended whiskey he had produced for one of his clients. Finished in rye casks, it had a beautiful floral rye nose, with a waft of vanilla from the virgin American Oak casks and wonderful fruits from its time in Oloroso sherry casks.

After we talked some more, he pulled down this most awkward looking scratched up brown bottle. It looked like something that was shaped and made after consuming large amounts of alcohol. This historic looking bottle actually leaned to one side and the top of the bottle was deformed like something out of a Salvador Dali painting…almost seeming to melt off the top.

Brian said, “this was found under a barn in County Tyrone.” We had the bottle dated to the 1880s. Whoa. The last time I was in Kentucky, I had the opportunity to chat with Tom Ripy, a descendant of the great Ripy distilling family that came from Tyrone, Ireland and that were the forerunners to Wild Turkey. I imagined one of their ancestors trying to fill this bottle or knowing the person who did.

Then Brian pulled down another bottle - a much more modern clear bottle with liquid inside. He said, “this is what we pulled out of it.”  He grabbed a glass and said - we had the liquid tested and it is whiskey - we just don’t know what kind or how old it is.

I pulled the glass to my nose and had no idea what I was in for. 

Next time on Whiskey Lore…

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I'm your host Drew Hannush and until next time.