December 12, 2023
Our second delving into this lesser-read (probably? I feel overall Anthony Trollope should be read more, and this novel isn’t one of those read even partially enough atm) Irish-set Trollope tale takes us into a space Trollope wrote about better than anyone, the house of an English rector. While our man of the cloth here isn’t one of the book’s main characters, he has enough page time that you’ll come to enjoy his company (his wife’s too, though mostly for her sometimes ridiculousness). The fact that he likes a whisky punch in an evening, certainly makes liking him easier. Oh, don’t miss the Castle Richmond Cocktail Talk Part I, for more book background and brandy (and all the Trollope Cocktail Talks for even more).
But the parlour was warm enough; warm and cosy, though perhaps at times a little close; and of evenings there would pervade it a smell of whisky punch, not altogether acceptable to unaccustomed nostrils. Not that the rector of Drumbarrow was by any means an intemperate man. His single tumbler of whisky toddy, repeated only on Sundays and some other rare occasions, would by no means equal, in point of drinking, the ordinary port of an ordinary English clergyman. But whisky punch does leave behind a savour of its intrinsic virtues, delightful no doubt to those who have imbibed its grosser elements, but not equally acceptable to others who may have been less fortunate.
–Anthony Trollope, Castle Richmond
September 13, 2011
Before you even accuse me of repetitiveness, I already know that I just did a Cocktail Talk post containing an Anthony Trollope quote (the one from The Three Clerks below). Or just a few weeks ago. But, but, but I also just read a different Trollope book, Castle Richmond, and it also had a few worthy quotes, one of which is below. See, I’ve run into a little Trollope luck lately, finding a few of the less-easy-to-find books, and so have been reading my Trollope-loving-heart out. Usually when browsing a bookstore, you’re only going to find a book from the Chronicles of Barsetshire (probably Barchester Towers or The Warden) and maybe something from the Palliser novels (usually, for reasons unknown to me, The Eustace Diamonds, which pales in my mind to Phineas Finn). The lesser known Trollope numbers? Not so much. Which is why, since I recently did find a few of these, A: I’m pretty excited, B: I’ve been reading so much Trollope, and C: why you, lucky people, get another quote about booze and boozing from a Trollope book. This may be, by the way, the finest whiskey punch quote ever. Castle Richmond itself is a darn fine read, an Irish tale which takes place during the potato famine with Trollope’s usual keen observing of politics, both personal and public. And with whiskey punch:
But the parlor was warm enough; warm and cosy, though perhaps at times a little close; and of evenings there would pervade it a smell of whisky punch, not altogether acceptable to unaccustomed nostrils. Not that the rector of Drumbarrow was by any means an intemperate man. His single tumbler of whisky toddy, repeated only on Sundays and some rare other occasions, would by no means equal, in point of drinking, the ordinary port of an ordinary English clergyman. But whisky punch does leave behind a savour of its intrinsic virtues, delightful no doubt to those who have imbibed its grosser elements, but not equally acceptable to others who may have been less fortunate.
—Castle Richmond, Anthony Trollope
