Rewriting the Rules for America: The 1818 Devonshire Rules for Making and Managing Cider – by Mark A. Turdo

Despite the title, the c. 1818 “Devonshire Rules for Making and Managing Cider” aren’t a step-by-step guide to making and managing cider. Instead they’re a user’s manual for a double-screw apple press, with a wealth of orcharding suggestions and cidermaking details. It’s also a revealing look at how cidermaking knowledge was communicated in early America.

_{One version of a double-screw press. Cider Making (1840-41), by William Sidney Mount, The Met.}

The “Devonshire Rules” are in the Benjamin Vaughan papers at the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. Vaughan was an English radical politician, whose support of the French Revolution forced him to flee England in 1794. After a few years in France, he settled on land inherited from his mother in Hallowell, Maine. He spent the rest of his life amassing a private library rivaling Harvard’s, pursuing his agricultural, political, and scientific interests, and maintaining a constant correspondence with people on both sides of the Atlantic.

_{From Old Hallowell on the Kennebec (1909) by Emma Huntington Nason.}

Although the “rules” are in his handwriting, Vaughan didn’t author them. As the title suggests, the rules were originally written in Devonshire, one of England’s famous cider regions. They reflect what some ciderists were doing there and appear to have been written for other professional and serious English cidermakers. Based on a note in the margin of the “rules,” a Captain James Vasey sent them to Vaughan. It’s unknown where Vasey took the rules from, if he copied them in a letter or sent along a publication, or why he sent them.¹ Perhaps he was aware of Vaughan’s interest in horticulture, or perhaps Vasey was simply helping round out Vaughan’s ever-growing library.

Vaughan must have thought the rules important enough that he considered publishing them. Details within the manuscript reveal his editorial efforts and suggest his desire to see them in print.

Vaughan transcribed the rules twice. The first version, entitled, ““Devonshire rules for making and managing cider” shows a number of clarifying corrections. This was possibly Vaughan’s attempt to improve on the original author’s descriptions. A second transcription, entitled, “Rules mentioned by a large Devonshire farmer in Devonshire (in England) for making and managing cider & orchards; by a large Farmer in Devonshire, in England” also shows several clarifying notes. Unlike the first version, the second version also includes spelling and grammar edits, suggesting he was proofing it to send to a printer. Two additions in the second version offer further clues to its potential use. The second version’s title is more explanatory, identifying the Devonshire in question as the one in England. It also includes a reference to New Jersey apples not present in the first version. These two edits suggest this was Vaughan’s attempt to rewrite the rules for an American audience.²

_{Page 1 of Vaughan’s transcription of the “Devonshire Rules” showing his corrections.}

Despite Vaughan’s many edits, the content differences between the two versions are minimal. They both describe a very similar milling and pressing process: after sweating the apples, one should grind enough to make three to four hogsheads of 61 gallons each (or 183 or 244 gallons of cider). Once ground, the pomace should be left in the mill for 12 hours (to macerate). After that, the cidermaker should build a cheese with the pomace in a double-screw press. Once built, press the cheese and let it stand for three hours. After that, unscrew everything, rebuild the cheese, and press again for three more hours. This should be done three or four times. After pressing, the juice should rest in a vat for 12 hours, be skimmed three times, and then barreled in a hogshead. After eight or ten days, the cider should be racked into a new barrel, and then racked four or five more times every two weeks or until the cider is clear.

Along with milling and pressing, the rules also touch on orcharding. They advise that every three to four years the turf around the trees should be removed and a layer of manure three to four inches thick spread around. To help keep everything healthy and growing, the rules also note that cows and horses are allowed in the orchard, but sheep are not (they tend to destroy the trees). No mention is made of pigs.

Tucked in throughout the instructions are a wealth of important cidermaking details. The rules note that the hogshead of cider should be elevated on a barrel horse and the cider should be racked from that barrel into a new one via a cock (spigot). They also suggest that the cider should be barreled and cellared for five years before being tapped, but it could be served to workmen at two years.

_{Barrels would be elevated on wooden horses and racked from barrel into another through a wooden cock located in one of its heads. The Double Surprize (c. 1770),
© The Trustees of the British Museum.}

The rules note that some apple trees are grafted, but the majority are “natural,” or seedling. In the second version, that line is crossed out, suggesting that it is either unnecessary to mention it because that’s the American reality already or doesn’t suit the American situation (though it is likely the former). Both versions remind the reader that sour and sweet apples are mixed to make cider and that the finished cider has little carbonation and “an acid-sweet taste.”

Unique (so far) to the “Devonshire Rules” are the time estimates for several steps, including hours for: 

Resting ground apples in vat        12

Pressing (4 times at 3 hours per)    12

Resting juice in vat            12

TOTAL                36

That’s 36 hours to make 183 to 244 gallons of cider. The “rules” don’t include time estimates for several necessary tasks, including moving the apples from where they were left to sweat to the mill, milling the apples, transferring the pomace to the press, building and rebuilding the cheese on the press, filling barrels from the vats, cleaning vats and three or four hogsheads before they are used, and the multiple rackings each barrel was to go through. Along with the financial investment for equipment, the Devonshire rules suggest a steep time investment as well. It is possible that American cidermakers, often making for their own use and for local trade, reduced the number of steps, the time invested, or a bit of both. Wealthier makers, who may have been more inclined to follow the steps laid out by “rules,” were able to do so because they used hired or enslaved labor.

Though it answers a number of questions about early cidermaking, it also leaves us with new ones. How many bushels or pounds of apples was enough to make three to four hogsheads of cider? Did anyone in America really rack cider 5 times or cellar cider untouched for five years? And why didn’t Vaughan publish them? Did another project capture his attention or did someone tell him American cidermakers would never do all of that?³

You can see Vaughan’s original transcriptions of the “Devonshire Rules” in the collection of the APS here.

You can find my transcription of Vaughan’s “Rules” here.

You can visit the Vaughan Woods and Historic Homestead, Benjamin’s estate, in Maine.

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1. Both Vasey and the source of the “rules” remain unidentified.

2. Perhaps he intended to publish them in the Transactions of the American Philosophical Society. Vaughan was admitted as a member of the Society in 1786 and his brother, John, had been librarian there since 1803.

3. Also, did Americans ever use the cylinder of cheese from the press as a backlog in their fires, as the “rules” suggested?

To the Cidermakers, To Make Much of Time

A maker only gets one chance each year to make cider, and so in the life of someone who starts making cider at 20, by the time they are 70 they will have had just 50 seasons, 50 attempts to make cider…

Felix Nash¹

Every fall I’ve had to wait on farmers and brew shops to have cider available, or at the very least return my phone calls. At times, it’s put my cidermaking in jeopardy. That’s no way to work. Especially when the chances to make are already so limited. So this year I bought a grinder and press. This means I can cut out the middle man.

Like cider, some assembly required.

Now, instead of waiting for other people, I only have to wait for trees. This is not as hard as it sounds. For years friends have been offering me their apple trees and orchards. I’ve been turning them down because I didn’t have the equipment, but now I can run amuck. In a nice way, that is.

I began this past Saturday at the historic 1719 Hans Herr House, in Willow Street, Pennsylvania.

The 1719 Hans Herr House.

The Herr House is one of the oldest extant Germanic houses in the country. The Herr family emigrated with a small group of fellow Mennonites to America from Switzerland, by way of Germany, in 1710. By 1711 they had settled in the Conestogo area, and by 1719 they built the stone house. Over the next few years they expanded their agricultural operation, including building “One Appel Mill and Drough” and “One Cider Press.”² It’s one of my favorite historic Pennsylvania homes. So I’m especially pleased I can continue the site’s cidermaking tradition, in my own small way.

An old friend, Tiffany Fisk is the site administrator. She offered to let me pick from the Herr House orchard. While we know they had cidermaking equipment, we don’t know what kinds of apples they planted historically, there is evidence suggesting they had an orchard. Today, the Herr House orchard consists of heirloom varieties planted and grafted in the 1970s.

Tiffany and I spent about three chatty hours picking fruit and talking about life, the universe, and everything. We even ate apples right off the tree.

I can’t remember the last time I had an apple right from the tree, but I know it’s the first time I’ve had a Tompkins King.

All told I got almost two bushels each of Tompkins King and Macintosh, along with some Roxbury Russets, Smokehouse, Winter Banana, and a small amount of seckel pears. This should make for some interesting blends. 

I’m happy that I finally have the tools to make the most of cidermaking season and fresh apples to experiment with. A promising start to the 2021-22 cider season.

Special thanks to the Lancaster Mennonite Historical Society and Tiffany Fisk for permission to pick from the Herr House orchard.

And for helping harvest.

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1. Felix Nash, Fine Cider: Understanding the World of Fine, Natural Cider (New York: Dog’n’Bone Books, 2019), 97.

2. Steve Friesen, A Modest Mennonite Home: The Story of the 1719 Hans Herr House, an Early Colonial Landmark (Intercourse, PA: Good Books, 1990). For Christian Herr’s inventory listing his mill and press, see 59.

Cidering is Fraught With Peril (Really) – By Mark A. Turdo

Cidering can be dangerous, and not just because of the effects of alcohol. It has always involved large machines which are designed to shred and press flesh. That’s fine when it’s an apple being spindled and mutilated, but it can have painful, even fatal, consequences when it’s a person.

One such accident occurred outside of York, PA in 1800 and was later recorded by a local artist. According to Lewis Miller, David Miller (no relation, we assume) was busy grinding apples when his hand was caught between the stones. Lewis’s rendering of this incident is presented below.

October 13th 1800. David Miller loseing his hand in the Apple Mill dreadful Ground up. it was at George Spangler’s farm one quarter of a mile from York [PA]. he died on the 21nd day of October in his 23. year his brother Joseph Miller was present at the time and Stop, the horse to go forward. as Soon as he discovered his brothers hand in the mill. A young woman throw an apple at him, he turned round to See, who throw, and his hand caught….

Between the machines and the stinging bugs, cidering can be perilous.

How Common Were 18th-Century Cider Mills? – By Mark A. Turdo

While it seems pretty clear most American households in the eighteenth century had access to cider, it’s less clear how many had access to cider-making equipment.

One study of probate inventories (a listing of personal possessions taken at someone’s death) from mid-century Kent County, Delaware does quantify how many were around. [1] The author surveyed 121 probates and broke them down into three categories: those worth £50 or less, those worth £50 to £225, and those worth more than £225.

The chart below shows the percentage of various items within each bracket. Cider mills are second from the bottom and highlighted in red. By the way, you’ll notice that presses aren’t listed. For the moment, the assumption is that if a mill is present, so was a press.

What do these numbers look like in real presses? Well, 6% of 48 probates equals 3 and 30% of 24 comes out to about 7. Which means only ten of the 121 probates, or 8%, include a cider mill.

That so few are present speaks to the expense of cider-making equipment (which is why only wealthier households had them) and the fact that a few could serve an entire community.

It should be said that probate inventories are a wonderful source for researching household items, but they are far from complete.[2] They often leave out cheaper and commonplace items. However, it’s probably safe to assume that cider mills are always listed because they aren’t either of those things.

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1. John Bedell. “Archaeology and Probate Inventories in the Study of Eighteenth-Century Life.” in Journal of Interdisciplinary History, XXX1:2 (Autumn, 2000), 223-245.

2. Also not everyone’s possessions were probated, so some cider-making equipment might be lost to history.