Wee Scotch Whisky Tales

by Ian R Mitchell

  ‘You are the lads we dare not mock

  We find them firm as any rock.’

  So they ran like a fudgie cock 4

  And left their glens in the morning.

  A fusillade drove the gaugers off, but they returned with soldiers from the Corgarff Castle garrison. They appear to have had little appetite for their work and when met with a hail of stones, also retreated. But though they won this battle the smugglers were soon to lose the war.

  Apart from the attentions of the soldiers at Corgarff, other pressures were being brought to bear on the sma’ still operators. Charles Forbes bought the estate which included much of Upper Donside and announce his intention to stamp out the trade. In 1825 he inserted clauses in all his tenants’ leases, which stated that

  He prohibits his tenants from all concern, directly or indirectly, in illicit malting and distillation, or the selling of spirits … And he declares that a breach of this prohibition shall infer an immediate forfeiture of the lease.

  This had much more effect that the threat of arrest, usually accompanied by a small fine, in helping suppress the whisky trade. The song, Noughty Glens, mentioned above, sadly reflects this development:

  But our gentlemen surveyed the hills

  And sore destroyed the smuggling stills

  Made their tenants submit to their wills

  Among Noughty glens in the morning.

  The family of McHardy, or rather the families, for there were many of them in Strathdon, had long been associated with illicit stills on Upper Donside, especially the McHardy’s of Burnside and Corryhoul. The estate records of Forbes note that:

  Margaret, widow of John McHardy of Easter Corryhoul, rents a farm at £13 a year, she has nine children and wishes to be continued a tenant, she has brewed whisky and has several times been fined.

  In spite of his prohibition against distilling and threat to evict culprits, the estate records note ‘Agreed’ to her continued tenancy. Evicting a widow with nine children was probably a step too far even for Forbes.

  The taxation burden on legal, large-scale distilling had been greatly reduced in 1823 and changes to revenue laws made it much easier for those with some capital to set up in legal business. It is rather thus ironic that the first legal distillery on Upper Donside was established by one James McHardy in Corgarff in 1826. McHardy possibly had fears about the security of his enterprise, since he set it up in the actual kitchens of Corgarff Castle where his potential customers included the local garrison. In the castle, and behind the secure star-shaped curtain wall, he probably felt he could survive local resentment. Today one can visit Corgarff Castle and see a fascinating reconstruction of McHardy’s distillery. It is a reconstruction because the original legal distillery was attacked and burned to the ground when the soldiers were out on patrol. (Corgarff Castle is open all year, weekends only in winter. A beautiful building in a gorgeous location, and full of historical interest. Tel: 01975 651 460. www.historic-scotland.gov.uk.)

  The destruction of the legal distillery had the authorities thirsting for revenge, or justice as they might call it. The Aberdeen Journal of 29th November 1826 carried the following statement:

  REWARD

  Whitehall, November 3rd 1826

  Whereas it hath been humbly represented unto the King, that early on the morning of Monday, the 17th day of July last, a legal distillery at Corgarff Castle, in the parish of Strathdon in the Highlands of Aberdeenshire, was wilfully set on fire and destroyed, HIS MAJESTY is pleased to offer His most gracious pardon to any one of them, who shall discover his Accomplice or Accomplices therein.

  Signed Robert Peel,

  Excise Office, Edinburgh 7th November 1826.

  And as for further encouragement, a Reward of ONE HUNDRED POUNDS Is hereby offered to any person (except as afore-said) who shall discover the said Offender or Offenders, so that He, She or They, may be apprehended and convicted of the said offence. The said Reward to be paid on Conviction by the Commissioners of His Majesty's Excise

  Geo. Pape, sec.

  There was evidently a widespread involvement in the attack, and a local conspiracy of silence. Despite intensive investigations and the promise a pardon for culprits turning king’s evidence – and also the offer of large reward of £100 – no one was ever convicted of the offence. One man, a certain Farquharson was apprehended for questioning by the excise officer, Mr Yates, but a mob confronted Yates, assaulted him and freed the suspect. The locals had successfully, for a time, destroyed a competitive threat to their illicit incomes. Gradually however, the illegal trade was reduced, though never completely eradicated, as an incident from much later in the 19th century showed.

  Customs officers had come off the train at Ballater on Deeside and were preparing to head over the hills for Donside and catch the McHardys at their work. They were, however, overheard by a fellow McHardy on the platform, and he ran by a more direct route than that taken by the gaugers, to warn those at Burnside. When the officers arrived they met a man coming off the hill with a cartload of peats, but could find no still. It was under the load of peats. The still was probably re-assembled afterwards, but by this time whisky-making was an exciting hobby rather than the major source of income for local people. The railway line came to Ballater in 1864, so the story must refer to an occasion after that date.

  The site of the McHardy illicit bothy is still there, a rickle of stones by the Corriehoul Burn above Burnside. It is set in a hollow by a stand of juniper which was the distillers’ favourite fuel as it gave little smoke. Illicit distilling died out on Donside, and legal distilling never became established after the burning down of the Corgarff Castle distillery. That act probably ensured that there would never be a Strathdon Malt to rival the Glenlivet, or Lochnagar. We don’t have the whisky, but we have the whisky legends.

  5 The Deil’s Awa Wi’ Th’Exciseman: The Case of Malcolm Gillespie

  THE EXCISEMAN, OR ‘gauger’ as he was known in the Scots vernacular, was probably the most hated figure in Scotland 200 years ago. This dislike was given a humorous slant in our national bard Robert Burns’ poem, The Exciseman. Here the despised figure is carried off to Hell by the Devil (Auld Mahoun):

  The deil cam fiddlin’ through the toun,

  And danced awa wi’ th’Exciseman

  And ilka wife cries ‘Auld Mahoun,

  I wish ye luck of the prize, man.’

  Ironically Burns himself served a spell as an exciseman, though in the relatively quiet Dumfries area of south-west Scotland. His job would have been very different had he found himself in his forebears’ homeland of north-east Scotland, where smuggling was rife and the conflict between distillers and gaugers became a low-level civil war, with fatalities on each side.

  In the wild areas which lay between the Lowlands of the North-east and the Highlands proper, that is, the upland areas of the Cabrach, Glenlivet and Deeside, the illicit whisky industry was a massive enterprise. Here people did not just distil the craitur for the resulting conviviality, on the contrary most of their production was exported to the Lowland towns and cities. The money from the sale of the contraband did what farming in these poor areas could never do; it raised the money to pay the tenants’ rent and left a good surplus for a decent living. Everyone, involved in the distilling or not, conspired to defeat the forces of the law. Local landlords, acting as Justices of the Peace, enforced ludicrously low fines on distillers – since these landlords too were often the recipients of the cash, as rent, from the ill-gotten gains of the distillers. Even the stationing of soldiers at Braemar and Corgarff castles, did little to halt the trade. That job fell to the gaugers.

  The gauger was spurred on by the promise of a large bounty, given as a percentage of the value of the spirits seized. This was certainly a motivation in the case of the most successful of the excisemen, Malcolm Gillespie. The ‘King of the Gaugers’ Gillespie enjoyed a lavish lifestyle on the proceeds of his enormous seizures. But sheer love of adventure and excitement clearly moti
vated Gillespie, who had been turned down for a commission in the army since he could not afford to buy the officer’s post – as was the procedure at that time. A native of Dunblane, Gillespie moved to the North-east around 1800, where his considerable courage and talents were employed in suppressing the illicit whisky trade. While the soldiers in the mountains had little success in stamping out the supply side of the industry, located in well-hidden illicit stills, Gillespie concentrated, with much more success, in intercepting the contraband on its actual way to the lowland markets.

  For over a quarter of a century Gillespie harassed the smugglers of Aberdeenshire. In that time he impounded 6535 gallons of whisky, 407 stills, 165 horses, 85 carts and 62,400 gallons of barley wash. Gillespie trained bulldogs to tumble the ponies carrying the akers of whisky, by biting their noses, and causing the spillage of their cargo. His own favourite dog suffered maryrdom by being shot dead by a smuggler. The ponies too suffered casualties. On one occasion Gillespie had been worsted by a superior number of foes, but as they fled, he shot the pony carrying their wares dead and prevented them triumphing. Gillespie and his men were armed with swords and pistols, which they unfailingly used. He himself sustained 42 wounds in his career and was battered near to death on frequent occasions.

  Some of Gillespie’s exploits are the stuff of legend. A party of smugglers set out from Upper Deeside in one instance, with ten cartloads of whisky and a numerous armed guard. It was night, and a fearful one, so the smugglers expected no exciseman to be abroad. They reached Culter outside Aberdeen without opposition, but here the gaugers lay in ambush, and a battle ensued between the two sides. In the end the smugglers fled, leaving several wounded and one of their men dead, and the whisky fell into Gillespie’s hands.

  We are lucky to have an account of Gillespie’s exploits written in his own hand. One of the incidents it describes is the Battle of Inverurie in 1824, where a cavalcade of smugglers were intercepted heading for Aberdeen. Gillespie and a sole assistant stumbled on the 25 smugglers and their cargo, while the rest of the excisemen were scattered around. Gillespie describes the ensuing battle in his own words, using the third person:

  This formidable group were very indifferent to his threats, and looked upon him with his assistant in a scornful way, and were proceeding onwards, when he immediately fired and killed a horse. The next shot he discharged went through the shoulder of a robust delinquent, in the very act of bringing down on Mr. Gillespie's head a large bludgeon. The whole gang were now upon Mr. G., but by this time the rest of his party had assembled and a terrible conflict ensued. Bloody heads, hats rolling on the ground, the reports of firing and other noise resembled the Battle of Waterloo, but in the end the lawless desperadoes were obliged to lay down their arms and submit to the laws of their country. Mr. G and his party were all much debilitated by severe wounds and bruises and loss of blood; but the greater part of the smugglers were in a much worse situation.

  Gillespie wrote this account of his work, glowing with professional pride, whilst in prison in 1827 awaiting trial for printing and circulating forged bills. This was then a capital offence, and he was convicted, and hanged in November 1827. Gillespie had probably hoped that an account of his loyal service to the state would result in a pardon, but it was not to be. Gillespie was a victim of his own efficiency, and the general success of the government’s policy of suppressing the illicit whisky trade. This meant that prosecutions for illicit distilling in Scotland fell from 3,000 a year in 1823 to less than 300 in 1827. And so too fell the exciseman’s bounties for seizure of the contraband. Gillespie, used to a generous income, turned to forgery to replace his declining bounties. It still seems harsh that a state which he had served so well, and so bravely, should in the end mete out to him a more severe punishment than was ever inflicted on any of the smugglers he caught. But all those smugglers he had had incarcerated, fined or simply forced into unwilling retirement, must have gloatingly echoed Burns’ words as Gillespie was hanged.

  We’ll makk our maut, we’ll brew our drink

  We’ll dance, and sing, and rejoice, man;

  And mony braw thanks to the meikle black deil

  That danced awa wi’ th’Exciseman.

  6 The National Bard and The National Dram

  SHORTLY AFTER HIS death in 1796 Robert Burns emerged as the undisputed National Bard of Scotland. The foundation of the first Burns Club took place in 1801. This was the Greenock Burns Club, later known as the Mither Club. As such clubs spread, Burns’ Suppers soon became a national event (at least in Lowland Scotland) on Burns Nicht, held on the anniversary of the poet’s birthday, the 25th of January. Some decades previously, whisky had emerged as the national dram of Scotland. Though it had been distilled for several centuries, it had taken much longer for whisky to gain that pre-eminent affection in Scotland quickly achieved by Burns.

  For centuries the preferred drink of the upper classes was claret, and that of the poor ‘tippenny’, a cheap ale – but over the course of the 18th century whisky gradually emerged as the favoured alcoholic beverage in the country. This is reflected in Burns’ poetry, where his praise of the craitur out-matches his praise of any other form of alcohol. Indeed, at a Burns Supper anywhere in the world, it would be unthinkable to toast the haggis with anything other than whisky, the poet’s favourite beverage.

  Few, if any, poets have sung the praises of whisky as did Robert Burns. Just as he had claimed that many Scots virtues – such as martial valour – stemmed from the consumption of the national dish, the humble haggis, so Rabbie attributed several benefits to the consumption of whisky. The first of these was good health.

  In his poem Scottish Drink, Burns argues that good health is one of the benefits of whisky drinking, especially as a preventative against colic and ‘barkin’ hoast. The poet also prescribes a dram or two as a cure for writers’ block.

  O Whisky! Soul o’ plays and pranks!

  Accept a Bardie’s grateful thanks!

  When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks

  Are my poor verses!

  Thou comes – they rattle I’ the ranks

  At ither’s airses!

  – and elsewhere he wrote of the ‘muse-inspirin’ aqua-vitae.’ In The Author’s Earnest Cry and Prayer Burns writes probably his most famous line on the subject of the national dram – Freedom and whisky gang thegither. Oft quoted, but who knows the context and hence the true meaning of the phrase? In 1786 the British parliament was debating the level of excise on whisky, and Burns’ poem was addressed to the 45 Scottish MPs at Westminster, asking them to stand up for Scotland’s interests. In the poem he argued that it was the consumption of whisky which had made Scotland fight for her freedom in the past:

  Let half-starv’d slaves in warmer skies

  See future wines, rich-clust’ring rise;

  Their lot auld Scotland ne’er envies’

  But blythe and frisky,

  She sees her freeborn, martial boys

  Tak aff their whisky.

  And in this poem whisky becomes an icon, a symbol of the Scottish national identity. Defence of the national drink by the Scottish MPs is portrayed as a defence of Scotland’s national economic interests, against the English gin distillers, plotting to tax whisky out of business.

  In what is possibly Burn’s greatest poem and certainly his most famous, Tam O’ Shanter he further attributes the waxing of courage to the consumption of whisky. Indeed, he clearly distinguishes between the courage brought about by the consumption of ale, and that superior courage coming from whisky drinking:

  Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!

  What dangers thou canst make us scorn!

  Wi’ tippeny, we fear nae evil;

  Wi’ usquebae we’ll face the devil!

  However, though on one level Tam O’ Shanter is a hymn to conviviality and uncontrolled drinking, the moral of the tale is really one of ‘responsible drinking.’ As a consequence of his over-indulgence Tam is almost dragged off to hell by the witches h
e encounters in Alloway Kirk on his ride home. This is when he bawls out drunkenly ‘Weel done, Cutty-sark!’ at the sight of an especially attractive witch with a short, revealing skirt. Only by passing over water, and losing his mare’s tail in the chase, does Tam escape. Burns concludes the poem with a warning:

  Now, wha this tale o’ truth shall read,

  Each man and mother’s son takk heed;

  Whene’er to drink you are inclin’d

  Or cutty-sarks rin in your mind.

  Think! ye may buy your joys o’er dear;

  Remember Tam o’ Shanter’s mare.

  There was a more serious side to this in that Burns, though here and elsewhere advocating self-restraint in drinking, himself was unable to practise what he preached, and became increasingly alcohol-dependent with time. In Drink and the Devil he gives full vent to his self disgust:

  Yestreen, alas! I was sae fu’

  I could but yisk and wink; 5

  And now, this day, sair, sair I rue,

  The weary, weary drink.

  But Burns’ drunken over-indulgence brought him shame as well as depression. His misbehaviour at social gatherings, often amongst ladies of standing, haunted him. In a letter of apology to Mrs Robert Riddel, he wrote after such a debauch:

  Madam,

  I write you from the regions of Hell, amid the horrors of the damned., on account of my conduct yesternight under your roof. An intoxicated man is the vilest of beasts.

  Regret! Remorse! Shame! Ye three hell hounds that ever dog my steps and bay at my heels, spare me! Spare me!

  Forgive the offenses, and pity the perdition of, Madam, your humble slave,

  R.B.

  This contradiction in Burns is echoed in that, for much of the latter part of his life, he was actually an exciseman, or gauger, intent on suppressing the illegal alcohol trade, but unable to curb his own excessive use of the product.