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.
This is not the brand served out to our army and navy; although the
“tots” issued periodically to Tommy Atkins and Ben Bowline consist of
good, sound liquor, wholesome enough, save for gouty subjects—and a
sailor with the gout would be of about as much use to his Queen and
country as a watch without works—and writing from past experience I
can aver that every drop of liquor, whether ale or rum, supplied in
a regimental canteen had to be previously passed by a committee of
“taste.” In many ships, nowadays, no rum or other intoxicant is served
out; and as no equivalent is given, it might appear as though the
owners made a good thing out of the temperate habits of their crews.
But I do not believe in total abstinence as an aid to work; and I have
never seen a sailor the worse—on board ship—for his “tot.” On the other
hand, in the old days of “Green’s” troop-ships, the old sailing-vessels
which made the voyage to India round the Cape of Good Hope, it was by
no means infrequent for a soldier to be “overcome” by the cane-spirit,
of which he occasionally got rather more than his orthodox allowance.
How was this managed? The thrifty seafarers were in the habit of
selling their grog allowance to the “swaddies”; and as soon as the
ship’s captain found this out, he issued stringent regulations which
it might have been expected would put a stop to this practice. When
all hands were piped to grog a ship’s officer was {85} stationed by
the tub, to see that each sailor drank his allowance. Still there was
intoxication amongst the troops, and it was discovered that many of the
sailors’ pannikins had false bottoms, and that in this way the rum was
concealed. After that the ship’s officer was enjoined to see that each
sailor partook of his tot; but even this precaution failed; for the rum
would be ejected from the men’s mouths into a bucket in the fo’c’sle,
and then sold—a disgusting practice which merited severe punishment,
and frequently obtained it.
We English do not make nearly as much use of rum in cookery as do
our lively neighbours. One of the most approved of _entremets_ is an
_omelette au rhum_, a truly grateful dish, if the omelette be properly
made, although rum be spelt with an “h.” But it is a mistake to use
rum-sauce with plum-pudding, as do the French; for brandy is a far
better digestive of the cloying materials of which the pudding is
composed. As mentioned in _Cakes and Ale_, rum-and-milk is said, by
the chief English authority on dietetics, to be the most powerful
restorative known to man. This may, or may not, be true; I am prepared
to back a judicious dose of “the Boy”—_not_ limited to a “split pint,”
either. But of all horrible mixtures, defend me from rum-and-ale,
which used to be a potion much in favour with the dangerous classes of
our metropolis, in the days when I went “slumming” in search of plain
unvarnished facts. A steaming tumbler of rum and hot water, with a
piece of butter melted therein, was, in my younger days, in vogue as
an infallible {86} specific to eject a cold from the head. Nowadays, I
prefer the cold.
Gin is supposed by students, who do not make practical test of their
learning, to be distilled from malt, or from unmalted barley, or from
some other grain, and afterwards rectified and flavoured. And just as
it was (according to Mr. Samuel Weller) the seasoning which did it in
the case of the cheap pies, so is it the rectifying, and the flavouring
which do it, in the matter of gin. Occasionally “rectifying” is hardly
the right word to use. That there is such a thing as wholesome,
tolerably-pure gin is more than probable; but there is also a very
undesirable fluid sold to the poorer classes, and esteemed by their
vitiated palates, known under different pet names, of which “blue ruin”
and “white satin” are two. This brand of gin is flavoured more or less
with oil of turpentine and common salt. No wonder thirst stalks abroad
next morning!
“In one well-known hostelry,” observes a writer in a daily newspaper,
“situated not a stone’s throw from the Bank of England, you can, if
you be so minded, ask for and obtain a farthing’s worth of gin. It is
served in tiny liqueur-glasses, and the custom dates from the time
when the purchasing power of the coin in question was far greater
than it is now, and when consequently, a farthing’s worth of gin was
considered to be a sufficient quantity for any respectable citizen.
Another public-house, in Bishopsgate Street, is also compelled, by the
terms of its license, to supply a farthing’s worth of either ‘gin,
rum, or shrub,’ to any customer requiring {87} it; while not far away
is a hostelry which is permitted to carry on the dual businesses
of liquor-dispensing or pawnbroking. Yet another City public-house
possesses a sort of annexe where medicines are retailed. Handy, this,
for the unhappy sufferer from swelled head.”
I suppose as the above has appeared in a newspaper, it is strictly
true. But how sad! Although my knowledge of London is “peculiar” I
cannot say I am acquainted with the licensed house in which drawing
drinks and taking in pledges are combined; but I have seen farthing’s
worths of “Old Tom” dispensed in more than one hostelry, to slatternly
women, before my own breakfast hour, and I have shuddered at the sight.
But why stop short at selling medicines in the annexe of a dram shop? I
should have thought an undertaker, in another compartment, might do a
fairish trade.
These are some of the ingredients put into gin, to give it “body,” and
make it “bite”—gin without teeth being notoriously inferior tipple and
altogether unfit for the consumption of the good ladies who are, sad to
say, by far the best customers of the gin retailer:—roach-alum (this
sounds fishy), salt of tartar, oil of juniper, cassia, nutmeg, lemon,
fennel, and carraway and coriander seeds, cardamoms, capsicums, and
sulphuric acid. All these, mind ye, besides the afore-mentioned oil of
turpentine, and the afore-mentioned potato-spirit, which last would
seem to enter into most drinks of the day.
The word “Gin” is really an abbreviation of “Geneva,” under which name
the spirit was at {88} one time known. Not that it is principally
manufactured in picturesque Switzerland, where the watches come from;
but “Geneva” is a corruption of the old French word _genevre_, the
juniper. I used to read, in childhood’s days, that
Juniper berries and barley make gin,
but those ingredients—or the berries, at all events—would seem to be
only regularly used in Holland, nowadays.
“Dirty” gin, of which we used to hear so much, was, I believe, as pure
as any other geneva, and not less clean. Plymouth gin is said to be the
healthiest form of the article, but ’tis an acquired taste, and “Old
Tom” is certainly more toothsome. In entering as fully into details
as I have above I have no wish to discourage the consumption of gin
proper, especially when blended with ginger-beer (an excellent summer
beverage), or doing duty in a cock-tail, a sling, a punch, or a John
Collins. But I am not a “gin man” myself. And to my mind a “nip” less
calculated to promote appetite than any other is a “gin-and-bitters.”
“Kosher” rum, _i.e._ rum treated according to instructions laid down
in the Mosaic Law, is in high favour with the Jews; and in some of the
taverns which abut on the Israelitish quarters which are about Aldgate
there are recognized “rum-rooms.” There used to be, and probably is at
the present day, a considerable amount of card—playing (_spieling_)
or throwing of dice for wagers, carried on in these apartments; and I
once knew a son of Judah who was heavily fined {89} by the stipendiary
magistrate, for gambling on licensed premises. To the day of his death
this Jew protested his innocence of the crime.
He told me the whole story, interlarded with tears and gesticulations.
The _rozzers_ (detectives) raided the rum-room one afternoon, and
created considerable commotion. Some of the imbibers managed to make
their escape, but my informant was not so fortunate. He was seized by
one minion of the law, and shortly afterwards another officer cried:
“See where he has hidden the dice in his tumbler of Old Jamaica!”
“And, may I die,” added the poor Yid, “if the _gonoph_ (rascal) hadn’t
placed ’em there himself—don’t yer beliefe me?”
Of course I did.
Here is another way of employing rum; but you will not be able to shine
at solo-whist afterwards.
_Rum Booze._
The yolks of eight eggs well beaten up, with some sifted sugar, and
a grated nutmeg; extract the juice from rind of a lemon by rubbing
loaf sugar thereon; put the sugar, a piece of cinnamon, and a bottle
of white wine into a clean saucepan, and when the wine boils take it
off the fire. Pour one glass of cold sherry into it, put it into a
spouted jug (I don’t mean hypothecated, but a jug with a spout to it)
and pour it gradually amongst the egg mixture, keeping the whole well
stirred with a spoon as the wine is poured in. Sweeten to taste, and
pour the mixture from one vessel to another until a fine white froth
is obtained. {90}
The recipe continues. “Half a pint of rum is sometimes added, but it
is then very intoxicating.”
But _sans_ rum whence the Rum Booze? Port Wine is sometimes substituted
for white wine, but is not considered so palatable. This liquor should
be drunk when quite hot. If the wine be poured boiling hot among the
eggs, the mixture will become curdled.
_Without_ the rum the mixture is one form of Egg Flip.
When treating of gin I should have mentioned that at one well-known
City hostelry, “The Olde Cheshyre Cheese” in Wine Office Court, Fleet
Street, gin is never known by any other name than “rack.” Why, I know
not. But in the same old tavern should you require Scotch Whisky you
must call for “Scotch,” without mentioning the word whisky; and if
Irish, “Cork” is the password.
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