Long before oak casks were routinely used to mature whisky, the spirit's growing popularity caught the eye of the government, and taxation soon followed. In a strange and roundabout fashion, this taxation—and the illicit distilling it spawned—played a crucial part in shaping the quality of modern Scotch whisky.
The Birth of Whisky Taxation
The first excise duty on "everie pynt of aquavytie or strong watteris sold within the country" was introduced in Scotland in 1644. However, it was the imposition of the English Malt Tax following the Act of Union of 1707 that would cause real difficulties for distillers and fundamentally change how whisky was produced.
Political expediency meant that the Malt Tax wasn't actually introduced until 1725, but even this delay couldn't prevent the backlash. The tax led to a wave of riots which left the country 'virtually ungovernable'. While the riots were largely driven by the tax's impact on beer prices—beer being widely drunk as a safer alternative to water—it also had a profound impact on whisky production.
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' throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
Robert Burns and the Hated Exciseman
The Exciseman—or Gauger—was a widely hated figure at this time. Perhaps surprisingly, given his revolutionary leanings, Robert Burns, Scotland's national bard, became an exciseman in the late summer of 1788. He appeared to do well in the role, being promoted in 1789 and remaining in post until his death in 1796.
Burns humorously recognised how his profession was viewed in his poem 'The Deil's Awa Wi' Th' Exciseman' (The Devil's Away With The Exciseman). In it, the despised figure is carried off to hell by Auld Mahoun (the Devil), and the townspeople rejoice:
"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."
Burns' satirical verse captures the public sentiment perfectly—the exciseman's departure, even to hell itself, was cause for celebration and renewed whisky-making.
The Highland Illicit Stills
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, difficult to approach unobserved. The illegal stills were deliberately kept small—all the better to dismantle quickly if necessary—and the spirit was often stored in wooden barrels which could be readily concealed and transported.
An Accidental Recipe for Quality
These small stills, born of necessity rather than design, inadvertently improved whisky quality. The reduced size increased the amount of copper contact during distillation, helping to remove unpalatable sulphur compounds from the spirit and promoting the formation of esters—aromatic compounds which contribute significantly to the flavour and character of whisky.
Similarly, the use of small casks for concealment and transport, even though they weren't yet being used to mature whisky for any significant length of time, maximised contact with the wood and helped enhance the spirit's flavour. What began as practical measures to evade the law became foundational elements of quality whisky production.
This combination of factors meant that the illicit whiskies of the Highlands and islands gradually became renowned for their superior quality—a reputation that reached the very highest levels of society.
The King's Choice
When King George IV visited Edinburgh in 1822, he specifically 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!" This royal endorsement of illicit Highland whisky spoke volumes about the quality gap between legal and illegal production.
The irony was clear: government taxation, intended to control and profit from whisky production, had instead driven innovation and quality improvements through illicit distilling. The superior character of Highland whisky, developed in defiance of the law, would eventually become the standard by which all Scotch whisky was judged.
Further Reading
- Smugglers and Excisemen: The History of Whisky in Scotland, 1644 to 1823 Sandra White, The University of Western Ontario
- 'The Deil's Awa Wi' Th' Exciseman' Robert Burns, circa 1790
- Memoirs of a Highland Lady Elizabeth Grant of Rothiemurchus