According to some chroniclers the ancient Britons made cider—or “seider” as the poor ignoramuses wrote it—but it must have been nasty stuff according to our civilized ideas; for until the Romans came to visit us the apple was not cultivated in Britain, nor, indeed, any fruit or vegetable. Our blue forefathers were not particular as to what they ate or drank; and I should think the fermented juice of wild or “crab” apples must have corroded the throats of the hardiest.

It is claimed for cider, and perry, that no fermented drinks do less hurt to the imbiber; although one authority states that the man who {175} drinks too much of either invariably falls on the back of his head, which sounds rather dangerous. Whether the drinking of cider in moderation conduces to long life deponent sayeth not; but no less an authority than Lord Bacon evidently thought so; and in his History of Life and Death he tells of eight men dancing a Morris-dance, whose ages, added together, were 800 years, “tennants of one Mannour” belonging to the Earl of Essex, and habitual cider-drinkers. But the lengthening of the days of the imbiber depends, in all probability, upon the brand of cider. I have tasted some varieties which were capable, apparently, of shortening life, rather than of prolonging it; and in parts of Somersetshire, even at the present day, the locals—case-hardened and poison-proof to a man—swill a horrible decoction, which would probably kill off an alien, at long range, most speedily and effectively.

Cider was called “cidre” and “sithere” by fourteenth century writers; and the word is said to be a corruption of the Greek sikera, used in the Septuagint to translate the Hebrew shekar, usually rendered “strong drink” in the Old Testament.

“The name of Cider,” says one of these old writers, “if from Sikera, is but a general name for an inebriating or an intoxicating drink, and may argue their ignorance in those times of any other name than Wine for that liquor or juice in the Saxon or Norman language, either of those nations being unwilling (it’s probable) to use a British name for so pleasing a drink, they not affecting the Britains, made use of few of their {176} words; but since that, that wines have been imported from foreign parts in great quantities, the English have been forced to make use of the old British name SEIDER, or Cider, for distinction sake, although the name vinum may be as proper for the juice of the apple as the grape, if it be derived either from Vi or Vincendo, or quasi Divinum, as one would have it. Also the vulgar tradition of the scarcity of foreign wines in England, viz. that Sack, which was then imported for the most part but from Spain, was sold in the apothecaries’ shops as a cordial medicine; and the vast increase in vineyards in France (Ale and Beer being usual drinks in Spain and France in Pliny’s time) is an argument sufficient that the name of Wine, might be attributed to our British Cider, and of vineyards to the places separated for the propagating the fruit that yields it.”

As a matter of fact the best cider in the world is made in Normandy. And for what purpose do the Normans make it? To send to the Champagne country to be sold to the unsuspecting tourist as the sparkling wine of that district. This is solid truth. Hundreds of millions of gallons are made in Normandy with the most scrupulous care, under the supervision of experienced chemists, and the bulk is eventually sold as champagne. And not only champagne, but claret, white wines, and even honest, manly, beautiful, unsophisticated, good old Portuguese port, owe their being in some instances to Normandy apples; the rich colour of the port being added by log-wood, beet-juice, {177} and the root of the rhatany. In fact, genuine port can be so closely imitated as to deceive many a good judge; and it really seems wonderful that the British farmer does not go in for making port wine, with apples so plentiful and cheap, and beet, mangels, and elderberries so easy to cultivate. In fact, given the time, and the materials, I am convinced that I could produce an excellent ’98 wine for laying down, for hospital purposes, public rejoicings, or miladi’s boudoir.

Cider, like all other useful drinks, can be, and is, imitated; and Bands of Hope and other well-meaning but misguided associations are chiefly responsible for this. What is known at Sunday-school treats and Salvation Army marriage-feasts as “non-alcoholic cider” has been found, on analysis, to be “a water solution of sugar and citric acid, flavoured with apple essence.” It’s the flavouring as does it.

“Harvest cider,” as home-made for the “hands,” is dreadful stuff, and absolutely unfit for human consumption. Apples which have fallen of themselves, or been blown off the trees, “windfalls,” are left on the ground to rot, and be eaten of slugs and wasps; and are then shovelled into the cider-mill, together with leaves, stalks, slugs, wasps, dirt of all sorts, spiders, ear-wigs, wire-worms, “Daddy Long-legs”-es, and—other things; the whole being converted into a species of “hell-broth,” which would have done credit to the best efforts of the witches in Macbeth, when properly mixed.

For a long time the Germans held aloof from {178} the man­u­fac­ture of cider. The good Rhine wine, and the flowing and flatulent lager of their own country, were good enough for the Teutonic palate. But when it comes to a question of making money, with the risk reduced to a minimum, Germany seldom “gets left,” as the Yankees say. Some of the inhabitants of the Fatherland discovered, about two decades ago, that there was gelt in cider, and since that time apples have been imported from France, by train-loads, for the purpose of being converted into cider. Germany now exports nearly twelve times as much of this fascinating beverage as does France; and under whatever name it may figure in the bills—German Champagne, Military Port, Äpfel-wein, or Sparkling Hock—away goes the apple juice to all parts of the civilized world, including Damascus, Pekin, Khartoum, San Francisco, and Shaftesbury Avenue. In Frankfort-on-the-Maine alone there are more than fifty cider-factories, and the industry brings the town at least half a million sterling per annum.

“The fruits of the earth,” says the ancient chronicler quoted above, “and especially of trees, were the first food ordained for man to eat.”

And yet I had always understood that it was for eating an apple that our first parents were evicted from the garden. But to continue the quotation.

“And by eating of which (before flesh became his meat) he lived to a far greater age than since any have been observed to have lived. And of all the fruits our Northern parts produce, there’s none more edible, nor more wholesome than Apples; {179} which by the various preparations of the cook are become a part of our table entertainment almost throughout the year, and are esteem’d to be very temperate and nourishing.

“They relax the belly, which is a very good property in them; but the sweet more than the sharp. They help concoction, eaten after meat, with a little bread: you may be confident that an apple eaten after supper”—paste this in your hats, ye revellers—“depresseth all offensive vapours that otherwise would offend the head, and hinder sleep. Apples rosted, scalded, or otherwise prepared, according to the skill of the operatour, are good in many hot diseases, against Melancholy, and the Pleurisie.

“But Cider is much to be preferr’d, it being the more pure and active part separated from the impure and feculent; and without all, peradventure, is the most wholesome drink that is made in Europe for our ordinary use, as before is observed. For its specifick vertues, there is not any drink more effectual against the Scurvy. It is also prevalent against the Stone, and by its mundifying qualities is good against the diseases of the Spleen, and is esteem’d excellent against Melancholy.”

Possibly the course of time has made us merrier than our forbears; at all events “mel­an­choly” is a disease for which no remedy is prescribed in the modern editions of the Pharmacopoeia. What with musical farces, and Arthur Roberts, and the means to purchase a “livener” next morning, no citizen of London is justified in the possession of lowness of spirits. {180}

Making cider is easy enough, but requires, like all other man­u­fac­tures, care and a modicum of common sense. And here let me join issue with those who maintain that the inferiority of English cider is due to the antiquated methods employed in making it. In the first place I question the inferiority; and in the second, although it is a fact that there is very little difference between the methods of to-day and two hundred years ago, we are more careful, on the whole, in the selection of the material. Far more important than complicated machinery is the proper choice of apples. Grow these in a scientific way, and do not eat all the best for dessert. The cider apple should be neither green nor over-ripe—and certainly not rotten like those used occasionally for the harvesters—free from injury (and therefore not a “windfall”) and just full ripe. The selected fruit should be placed in a mill which breaks them up and pulps them; the pulp is then put under a press, and squeezed dry to the last drop. The liquid is then left to ferment, and this process should be very gradual, and be closely watched. Finally the cider is drawn off, the finest qualities being bottled, and they may be regarded as pure wine. At all events they are frequently sold “as sich.”

It is claimed that cider, when pure and well made, is not merely an extremely wholesome drink, but a very helpful one to those who suffer from gout or rheumatism. It is asserted that cider will even cure these painful disorders, and that those who drink the juice of the apple are far less subject to aching joints and limbs than {181} other quaffers. It is the “malic acid” in the liquor which is so inimical to these diseases; and as a cider-drinker of considerable experience, and a sad sufferer, at times, from both diseases, I can safely say that there is no “touch” of either in the “natural” Norfolk cider made by Messrs. Gaymer—a dry wine which is very palatable, and is one of the best and the most wholesome of beverages.

Cider at its strongest does not contain a large percentage of alcohol, and its makers contend that its qualities are more health-giving and far less heady than those of any other liquor con­sumed in England. Ac­cord­ing to Mr. Rad­cliffe Cooke, an enthusiast on the subject, the revival in the cider industry dates from 1890, and there is every hope that that industry will flourish more and more, through the centuries. The recognized cider fruit may be divided into “bitter-sweets”—such as the so-called Norman apples and the Wildings—and the “red” fruits, such as the nearly extinct “Red Streak.” The best cider is made from an admixture of the two sorts. But the gout-fuge cider, we gather from another writer, should be made from a single sort of apple.

“There is no difficulty,” writes Mr. Cooke, “in expressing the apple juice; but the fermentation process is not sufficiently studied, and it is here that failure commonly occurs.”

“As for the making of Perry and Cider,” writes an authority of the seventeenth century, “which are drinkes much used in the West parts, and other countries well stored with fruit in this {182} kingdome; you shall know that your perry is made of peares onely, and your cider of apples; and for the manner of making thereof, it is done after one fashion, that is to say, after your Peares and Apples are well prickt from the stalkes, rottennesse, and all manner of other filthe, you shall put them in the presse mill which is made with a mil-stone running round in a circle, under which you shall crush your peares or apples, and then straining them through a bagge of haire cloth, tunne up the same (after it hath bene a little setled) into hogs-heads, barrels, and other close vessels.

“Now after you have prest all, you shall save that which is within the haire cloth bagge, and putting it into severall vessels, put a pretty quantity of water thereinto, and after it hath stood a day or two, and hath beene well stirred together, presse it over also againe, for this will make a small perry or cider, and must be spent first. Now of your best cider that which you make of your summer or sweete fruit you shall call summer or sweete cider or perry, and that you shall spend first also; and that which you make of the winter and hard fruit, you shall call winter and sowre cider, or perry; and that you may spend last, for it will indure the longest.”

We don’t boil much cider nowadays, but this was a custom in con­sid­er­able favour with the ancients.

“In many places,” says another writer, “they boyl their cider, adding thereto several spices, which makes it very pleasant, and abates the unsavoury smack it contracts by boyling, but {183} withal gives it a high colour. This way is not to be commended, because the juice of the apple is either apt to extract some ill savour from the brass or copper, we being not acquainted with any other vessels to boyl it in, or the sediment of it is apt to burn by its adhering to the sides of the vessel, it being boyl’d in a naked fire.

“But if you are willing to boyl your cider, your vessel ought to be of Latten, which may be made large enough to boyl a good quantity, the Tin yielding no bad tincture to the liquor. ... It many times happens that cider that hath been good, by ill-management or other accident becomes dead, flat, sowr, thick, muddy, or musty; all which in some sort or other may be cured. You may cure deadness or flatness in cider by grinding a small parcel of apples, and putting them in at the bung-hole, and stopping it close, only sometimes trying it by opening the small vent that it force not the vessel; but then you must draw it off in a few days, either into bottles or another vessel, lest the Murc corrupt the whole mass. Cider that is dead or flat will oftentimes revive again of itself, if close stopt, upon the revolution of the year and approaching summer.”