A History of French Rum - Part 1: Pére Labat

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                     A HISTORY OF FRENCH RUM

                                  1. PÉRE LABAT

Over the last few months, in my series of articles named AND IF IT WERE THE FRENCH CARRIBEAN THE FIRST CRADLE OF RUM? I dealt with the beginnings of the French rum production in the Caribbean in the 1640s. Now i would like to tell the history of French rum after the pioneer period.

Let’s begin with Philip P. Boucher’s “France and the American Tropics ...” published in 2008. “The frontier era of the French Caribbean drew to a gradual close by about 1660. In France, the Treaty of the Pyrenees (1659) with the ancient Spanish foe had finally brought peace. In the following years the young and vigorous Luis XIV asserted that he would rule France without intermediaries”. His great minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert dedicated great attention to the maritime and colonial issues. “His mercantilists policies involved infrastructure development, the building of a navy and merchant marine, and support of industry ranging from silks and tapestries to mining and forestry. 

In 1661, Louis had nine ships of the line, none of them the large first or second raters. By 1671, he had 119, with thirty-two first or second raters.”

By 1680, the French colonies were no longer annexes of the dutch commercial empire and in the same period a gradual evolution of French Caribbean economies toward a sugar plantation regime occurred. And with sugar, there came rum, a lot of it. Actually, as early as 1659, the Martinique Council regulated the price of rum for the first time and also tried to regulate the quality of it: “...On March 31, 1659, the Council were obligated to regulate the price of cane spirits and enjoin the manufacturers to only sell good, fair and commercial goods.” (Adrien Dessalles Histoire Générale des Antilles 1847).

But, who was purchasing and consuming this new beverage?

Bernie Mandelblatt in her seminal essay “Atlantic Consumption of French Rum and Brandy and Economic Growth in the Seventeenth- and Eighteenth- Century Caribbean” 2011, writes: “There can be no doubt that a great deal of rum was consumed on plantations by the slaves who were producing it. Informally, slave consumption took place through the proximity of slaves as producers, that is, through ‘theft’, as noted by planters and colonial administrators throughout this period. More formally, primary sources indicate that rum was distributed to slaves as part of their rations, often in exchange for the food provisions that slave holders were bound to give to slaves but which they often did not provide. The Code noir promulgated in 1685 contained articles outlining both these measures.... slave holders ‘were forbidden from giving slaves eau-de-vie de canne or guildive as a substitute for the rations outlined in the preceding article’.

Just as significantly, rum was distributed to slaves both as a reward and also as an incentive for particularly difficult or dangerous work, such as that associated with the operation of the sugar mills where the cane was initially crushed and which led to high rates of mutilation and death. The instructions left for one plantation manager declared that: ‘The master of a plantation must, insofar as possible, give a coup de guildive to his slaves both morning and night as soon as prayer is finished, and he should make it strong: this warms them and gives them the courage needed to work. Other than this, if a slave performs an extraordinary task to the satisfaction of his master, he should be given another coup, both to inform him of the master’s approval and to encourage him further. other than this rum given twice daily to slaves, masters should, as far as possible, give a weekly pint of rum on Sundays with the distribution of three pounds of meat, although care should be taken not to give too much, because this can be dangerous’ ...”

At the end of 1600, the new importance of sugar and rum in the French Caribbean is clear in

the magnus opus of Jean-Baptiste Labat, usually known as Père(Father) Labat, “Noveau Voyage aux Isles de L’Amèrique ...”. Where Dutertre in his history had devoted only few pages to sugar, round forty years later Pére Labat wrote hundreds of pages on sugar, sugar making, rum and the slave system.

“Born in Paris in 1663, this Dominican priest and former professor of philosophy and mathematics volunteered to leave the convent at the Rue Saint Honoré for the colonies in order to replace deceased missionaries on Martinique. Arriving in 1693, hewas assigned to the small parish of Macouba and charged with reviving the debilitated grounds and managing a sugar plantation. Labat’s journey coincided with the height of the sugar revolution in the Caribbean. By the 1660s, sugar had become the chief industry in the lesser Antilles, and by 1685, French territories ranked second in world sugar production after those of the English. Labat became extremely active in improving sugar production techniques in the French colonies, contributing to the design and operation of sugar mills and refineries. As he developed a reputation as a knowledgeable manager, engineer, and architect, he also directed the construction of church properties, a Freemason lodge, water mills, forts, and defenses. ... ascended the ranks of the Dominican leadership ... his enormous ego and unstoppable ambition brought about his downfall, however, for he eventually became known in official circles as a ‘man o wit, but impudent and impassioned’ and a ‘meddler’. ... he was sent to France... later the authorities refused him readmittance to the colonies and forbade him to correspond with anyone there. ... The Noveau Voyage was published in two editions, in 1722 and 1742, the latter appearing four years after the author’s death.” In this way Doris Garraway introduced Labat to us in her well- documented and thought-provoking “The Libertine Colony” published in 2005.

As regards to rum in particular, according to Alibert in “La Fabuleuse Aventure du Rhum” 2005, “Through his advice and his ingenuity, Father Labat considerably improved the manufacturing, in particular, by summoning the distillation equipment from the Charentes region that he was able to adapt to manufacture rum. The alembic used for rum distillation was simply made up of a copper cauldron measuring around 0.8m in diameter and 1.3m in height, topped with a copper capital. The latter was connected to a coil immersed in a barrel containing cold water which was constantly refilled.”

Now let’s read some quotes from Père Labat’s work:

“The spirit we make on the islands with mash & sugar syrups, it’s not one of the least used

drinks, we call it Guildive or Taffia. The savages, the negros, the lowly settlers & craftsmen are not looking for another one & they lack self-control with this item, it is enough for them that this liquor is strong, violent & cheap; it doesn’t matter whether it’s harsh and unpleasant. I’m not going to talk about it in another place. We take a lot to the Spanish on the Coast of Caracas, Cartagena, Honduras & the big islands; there is no difference with that which is made from wine, if it is a carefully stoppered glass bottle from England & tied with archal thread or in cans from Holland with ten or twelve flasks. The English also consume a lot & they are not as delicate as the Spanish; they have invented two or three types of liquors, which us French use & abuse, very intense imitators of the bad they see in our neighbors. The first is called Sang- gris, it is made of Madeira wine which is put in a crystal or Fayence jar with sugar, lemon juice, a little cinnamon & powdered clove, lots of nutmeg & toasted, or slightly burnt bread crumbs. when the liquor is deemed to have taken the flavor of the ingredients, it is passed through a fine linen. Nothing is more pleasant; the taste of lemon makes it seem very refreshing & those who invented it claim that as well... The second is English lemonade. It is made with Canary wine which has sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves & a bit of amber essence added to it. This drink is as delicious as it is dangerous ... The third English drink is Punch, it’s their favorite drink, it’s made of two-parts spirit and one-part water. “

“The rest of the failed canes, that’s to say those which have been started on by rats and turn sour almost immediately, the inside goes blackish; they’re absolutely useless in sugar making & can only be used to make spirits.”

“The spirits we pull from the canes are called Guildive. The savages & the negros call it Taffia, it is very strong, with an unpleasant smell & acridness, a littlelike grain-based spirits, which we have trouble taking away from them. The place where we make it is called Vinaigrerie, I don’t know why it’s been given that name because it does not suit it in anyway. I already commented that it would be more fitting to name it a Distilatoire... This place must be attached or at least very close to the sugar mill, so that the mash and syrups can be taken there conveniently...”

About fermentation, Labat writes: “We fill the wash of water up to two thirds, and sometimes three quarters, and we finish filling them with syrup & mash. We cover them with balisier leaves & put planks on top & after about two or three days, depending on the goodness of the mash or the syrup, the liquor is fermented...”

And here is distillation: “The copper cauldrons are around two & a half feet in diameter and four feet in height. ...when the cauldrons are full, we close the opening with a red copper lid which must fit well just on top of the rim, & we seal with oily soil; it’s good that it has a lid on top so that it isn’t subjected to cutworms. It has an eighteen to twenty-inch long spout which is put into the bottom of the copper or tin serpentine which is put in a barrel for this purpose, well circled with iron, placed close to the cauldron. The more coils the serpentine has, the better the spirit. The barrel where the serpentine is must always be refilled with water, to refresh it ...The first liquor which comes from the cauldron is called low water: Indeed, it’s not very strong. We keep all the low water we pull for the first five days of the week & refill one or two cauldrons with it on Saturday. The spirit that comes out then is the real water of life, Taffia or Guildive which is very strong & very violent.”

As a good manager, Père Labat deals also with the economic value of the new distilled beverage: “This product makes a considerable profit for the Planter: Because by only working forty-five weeks a year, they will make sixty barrels of spirit a year. They could sell at least fifty-four barrels, drinking the rest at home. Therefore, fifty-four barrels with a capacity of one hundred and twenty pots each should produce a thousandécus which is enough to buy clothes, meat, tools & other needs, a troupe of one hundred and twenty negros. When you want to make the spirit better, and take away the too strong smell & the bitterness it has, you have to be careful to wash the cauldrons and the serpentines, & hang a bouquet of anise or fennel in the lid & renew it every time you load the cauldron.” It could be, roughly, a production of more than 10.000 liters per annum.

Labat takes slavery for granted. Like all settlers, he is used to the violence of the slave system and reassures his readers that the scars on the back of slaves “excited the compassion of those who were not accostumed to them; but soon one gets used to them.”

Of course, sometimes unpleasant accidents happen, but the good Father is ready with adequate remedies: “The rollers bite into the canes with ease as soon as they are close to their junction point & pull them between waters. it is important that the negresses who feed the mill or who push in the canes (because it’s normally women who do this work), do not touch the spot where the rollers hit with their fingertips; ... especially at night when, tired for the long day of work, they fall asleep while pushing the canes that they hold in their hands, their fingers get caught and crushed before we can rescue them... on such occasions, the shortest remedy is to promptly cut the arm with a stroke of a billhook; & for this we must always have a billhook on the table, well sharpened, in case it is needed. it is better to cut off an arm than see a person go through the rollers of a mill.”

Labat’s work left a large and enduring legacy on French Caribbean culture and his very name is to-day used as a brand in the rum industry. But his legacy is not the same for everyone. “The legend and legacy of Father Labat has endured for nearly three centuries in the French Caribbean, where he is still read by many Martinicans who relish his exactitude and taste for savory anecdotes of early colonial cultures. Historian also continue to read Labat as a reference on the history and geography of the French Caribbean, often taking his word for fact. Yet the Creole descendants of slaves have preserved his legend in the very realm of spirit he so brutally opposed. so renowned was the author’s reign of cruelty over the slaves that he has survived in memory asa spirit condemned to wander in the hills as punishment for the sins he committed. Labat has also been interred in the spiritual archive as a form of devil or malevolent spirit, this giving rise to popular phrases as ‘Father Labat is going to get you’, which are used to frighten naughty children” (Garraway).

See you next month. Marco Pierini