‘Fill, fill the glass, to beauty charge,And banish care from every breast;In brisk Champaign we’ll quick discharge,A toast shall give the wine a zest.’[355]
‘Fill, fill the glass, to beauty charge,And banish care from every breast;In brisk Champaign we’ll quick discharge,A toast shall give the wine a zest.’[355]
‘Fill, fill the glass, to beauty charge,And banish care from every breast;In brisk Champaign we’ll quick discharge,A toast shall give the wine a zest.’[355]
‘Fill, fill the glass, to beauty charge,
And banish care from every breast;
In brisk Champaign we’ll quick discharge,
A toast shall give the wine a zest.’[355]
Indeed, the greatest of England’s naval heroes was not insensible to the attractions of this gift from ‘our sweet enemy France.’ In October 1800 Nelson, together with Sir William and Lady Hamilton, was a guest of Mr. Elliot, the British Resident at Dresden. At dinner Lady Hamilton drank more Champagne than the narrator of this little incident imagined it was possible for a woman to consume, and inspired thereby, insisted on favouring the company with her imitations of classical statuary. Nelson thereupon got uproarious, and went on emptying bumper after bumper of the same fluid in honour of the fair Emma, and swearing that she was superior to Siddons. The host kept striving ‘to prevent the further effusion of Champagne,’ but did not succeed till Sir William in his turn had astonished all present with a display of his social talents. The grave diplomatist lay down on his back, with his arms and legs in the air, and in this position bounded all round the room like a ball, with his stars and ribbons flying around him.[356]
If we may give credit to Tom Moore, ‘the best wigged prince in Christendom,’ who wassubsequently to ‘d—— Madeira as gouty,’ and bring Sherry into fashion, preferred stronger potations than those produced on the banks of the Marne. In one of the poet’s political skits the Prince is introduced soliloquisingà laJemmy Thompson—
‘O Roman Punch! O potent Curaçoa!O Maraschino! Maraschino O!Delicious drams’[357]—
‘O Roman Punch! O potent Curaçoa!O Maraschino! Maraschino O!Delicious drams’[357]—
‘O Roman Punch! O potent Curaçoa!O Maraschino! Maraschino O!Delicious drams’[357]—
‘O Roman Punch! O potent Curaçoa!
O Maraschino! Maraschino O!
Delicious drams’[357]—
and describing his favourite luncheon as ‘good mutton cutlets and strong curaçoa.’[358]Nevertheless, the First Gentleman in Europe did consume Champagne; but it was concentrated in the form of punch, especially devised for him, and indulged in by him in company with Barrymore, Hanger, and their fellows.[359]
Prince RegentTHE PRINCE REGENT(After Gilray).
THE PRINCE REGENT(After Gilray).
His sometime model and subsequent victim, poor Brummell, is said to have put the wine to a still more ignoble use. One day a youthful beau approached the great master in the arts of dress and deportment, and said, ‘Permit me to ask you where you get your blacking?’ ‘Ah,’ replied Brummell, gazing complacently at his boots, ‘my blacking positively ruins me. I will tell you in confidence it is made with the finest Champagne.’[360]Probably the great dandy was merely quizzing his interlocutor, though such an act of extravagance would have been a pull on even the longest purse in those days, ‘your bottle of Champagne in the year 1814 costing you a guinea.’[361]
As to the Prince Regent’s brothers, we know that the Duke of York was such a powerful toper, that ‘six bottles of Claret after dinner scarce made a perceptible change in his countenance,’[362]and remember the Duke of Clarence making his appearance at the table of the Royal household at Windsor, and getting so helplessly drunk on Champagne as to be utterly incapable of keeping his promise to open the ball that evening with his sister Mary.[363]Two prominent orators of that day are credited withmotsupon Champagne. Curran said,aproposof the rapid but transient intoxication produced by this wine, that ‘Champagne made a runaway rap at a man’s head;’ while Canning maintained that any man who said he really liked dry Champagne simply lied.
After Waterloo, although a fewgourmetscontinued to prefer the still wine, sparkling Champagne became the almost universally accepted variety. Nevertheless, Henderson, while noting that ‘by Champagne wine is usually understood a sparkling or frothy liquor,’ gives the foremost place to the wine of Sillery, which, he remarks, ‘has always been in much request in England, probably on account of its superior strength and durable quality.’ He extols the Ay wine as ‘anexquisite liquor, lighter and sweeter than the Sillery, and accompanied by a delicate flavour and aroma somewhat analogous to that of the pine-apple.’[364]
The poets of the first half of the present century have hardly done justice to Champagne. Tom Moore, the most Anacreontic of them all, although ready, like his Grecian prototype, to ‘pledge the universe in wine,’ the merits of which he was continually chanting in the abstract, has seldom been so invidious as to particularise any especial vintage. Champagne, the wine of all others best fitted to inspire his bright and sparkling lyrics, has received but scant attention in his earlier productions. Bob Fudge, writing from Paris in 1818, is made to speak approvingly of Beaune and Chambertin, but only mentions Champagne as a vehicle in which tosauterkidneys;[365]and in theScepticit is simply brought in to point a moral respecting the senses:
‘Habit so mars them, that the Russian swainWill sigh for train-oil while he sips Champagne.’[366]
‘Habit so mars them, that the Russian swainWill sigh for train-oil while he sips Champagne.’[366]
‘Habit so mars them, that the Russian swainWill sigh for train-oil while he sips Champagne.’[366]
‘Habit so mars them, that the Russian swain
Will sigh for train-oil while he sips Champagne.’[366]
In two instances only the poet who sang in such lively numbers of woman and wine pointedly refers to the vintage of the Champagne. One is when he says:
‘If ever you’ve seen a partyRelieved from the presence of Ned,How instantly joyous and heartyThey’ve grown when the damper was fled.You may guess what a gay piece of work,What delight to Champagne it must be,To get rid of its bore of a cork,And come sparkling to you, love, and me.’[367]
‘If ever you’ve seen a partyRelieved from the presence of Ned,How instantly joyous and heartyThey’ve grown when the damper was fled.You may guess what a gay piece of work,What delight to Champagne it must be,To get rid of its bore of a cork,And come sparkling to you, love, and me.’[367]
‘If ever you’ve seen a partyRelieved from the presence of Ned,How instantly joyous and heartyThey’ve grown when the damper was fled.You may guess what a gay piece of work,What delight to Champagne it must be,To get rid of its bore of a cork,And come sparkling to you, love, and me.’[367]
‘If ever you’ve seen a party
Relieved from the presence of Ned,
How instantly joyous and hearty
They’ve grown when the damper was fled.
You may guess what a gay piece of work,
What delight to Champagne it must be,
To get rid of its bore of a cork,
And come sparkling to you, love, and me.’[367]
And his description of a summerfêteis indeed
‘a mere terrestrial strainInspired by naught but pink Champagne;’[368]
‘a mere terrestrial strainInspired by naught but pink Champagne;’[368]
‘a mere terrestrial strainInspired by naught but pink Champagne;’[368]
‘a mere terrestrial strain
Inspired by naught but pink Champagne;’[368]
such as might be penned
‘While as the sparkling juice of FranceHigh in the crystal brimmers flowed,Each sunset ray, that mixed by chanceWith the wine’s diamond, showedHow sunbeams may be taught to dance;’[369]
‘While as the sparkling juice of FranceHigh in the crystal brimmers flowed,Each sunset ray, that mixed by chanceWith the wine’s diamond, showedHow sunbeams may be taught to dance;’[369]
‘While as the sparkling juice of FranceHigh in the crystal brimmers flowed,Each sunset ray, that mixed by chanceWith the wine’s diamond, showedHow sunbeams may be taught to dance;’[369]
‘While as the sparkling juice of France
High in the crystal brimmers flowed,
Each sunset ray, that mixed by chance
With the wine’s diamond, showed
How sunbeams may be taught to dance;’[369]
with the final result that
‘Thus did Fancy and ChampagneWork on the sight their dazzling spells,Till nymphs that looked at noonday plainNow brightened in the gloom to belles.’[370]
‘Thus did Fancy and ChampagneWork on the sight their dazzling spells,Till nymphs that looked at noonday plainNow brightened in the gloom to belles.’[370]
‘Thus did Fancy and ChampagneWork on the sight their dazzling spells,Till nymphs that looked at noonday plainNow brightened in the gloom to belles.’[370]
‘Thus did Fancy and Champagne
Work on the sight their dazzling spells,
Till nymphs that looked at noonday plain
Now brightened in the gloom to belles.’[370]
Moore’s Diary, however, proves that if he did not care to praise the wine in verse, it was not for want of opportunities of becoming acquainted with it. Witness his ‘odd dinner in a borrowed room’ at Horace Twiss’s in Chancery-lane, with the strangely incongruous accompaniments of ‘Champagne, pewter spoons, and old Lady Cork.’[371]
Charles MorrisCAPTAIN CHARLES MORRIS(After Gilray).
CAPTAIN CHARLES MORRIS(After Gilray).
As to that most convivial of songsters, Captain Charles Morris, poet-laureate of the Ancient Society of Beefsteaks, he labours under a similar reproach. Though he has filled several hundred octavo pages of hisLyra Urbanicawith verses in praise of wine, the liquor with which he crowns ‘the mantling goblet,’ ‘the fancy-stirring bowl,’ or ‘the soul-subliming cup,’ usually figures undersome such fanciful designation as ‘the inspiring juice,’ ‘the cordial of life,’ or ‘Bacchus’ balm.’ Champagne he evidently ignores as a beverage of Gallic origin, utterly unfitted for the praise of so true a Briton as himself; and the only vintage which he does condescend to mention with approbation is the favourite one of our beef-eating, hard-drinking, frog-hating forefathers, ‘old Oporto’ from ‘the stout Lusitanian vine.’
Strange as it may seem, the manlier Muse of Scott used at times to dip her wing into the Champagne cup, although she has failed to express any verbal gratitude to this source of inspiration. ‘In truth,’ says his biographer, ‘he liked no wines except sparkling Champaign and Claret; but even as to this last he was no connoisseur, and sincerely preferred a tumbler of whisky-toddy to the most precious liquid ruby that ever flowed in the cup of a prince. He rarely took any other potation when alone with his family; but at the Sunday board he circulated the Champaign briskly during dinner, and considered a pint of Claret each man’s fair share afterwards.’[372]Scott himself, wearied with a round of London festivities, is impelled to write, ‘I begin to tire of my gaieties. I wish for a sheep’s head and whisky-toddy against all the French cookery and Champaign in the world.’[373]Lockhart, in hisLife of Scott, notes the excellent flavour of some Champagne sent to Abbotsford by a French admirer of the Northern Wizard in return for a set of his works, and more than once incidentally refers to the presence of the wine at Scott’s table on festive gatherings.
Byron, who furnished in the course of his career a practical exemplification of the maxim that
‘Comus all allowsChampaign, dice, music, or your neighbour’s spouse,’[374]
‘Comus all allowsChampaign, dice, music, or your neighbour’s spouse,’[374]
‘Comus all allowsChampaign, dice, music, or your neighbour’s spouse,’[374]
‘Comus all allows
Champaign, dice, music, or your neighbour’s spouse,’[374]
did the vintage of the Marne justice in his verses. InDon Juanhe shows himself not insensible to the charms of
‘Champagne with foaming whirlsAs white as Cleopatra’s melted pearls.’[375]
‘Champagne with foaming whirlsAs white as Cleopatra’s melted pearls.’[375]
‘Champagne with foaming whirlsAs white as Cleopatra’s melted pearls.’[375]
‘Champagne with foaming whirls
As white as Cleopatra’s melted pearls.’[375]
The wine, moreover, furnishes two striking comparisons in that poem—one when he observes that
‘The evaporation of a joyous dayIs like the last glass of Champagne, withoutThe foam which made its virgin bumper gay;’[376]
‘The evaporation of a joyous dayIs like the last glass of Champagne, withoutThe foam which made its virgin bumper gay;’[376]
‘The evaporation of a joyous dayIs like the last glass of Champagne, withoutThe foam which made its virgin bumper gay;’[376]
‘The evaporation of a joyous day
Is like the last glass of Champagne, without
The foam which made its virgin bumper gay;’[376]
and the other, where, in his sketch of Lady Adeline Amundeville, he rejects the trite metaphor of the snow-covered volcano in favour of
‘a bottle of ChampagneFrozen into a very vinous ice,Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain;Yet in the very centre, past all price,About a liquid glassful will remain;And this is stronger than the strongest grapeCould e’er express in its expanded shape:’Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence;And thus the chilliest aspects may concentreA hidden nectar under a cold presence.’[377]
‘a bottle of ChampagneFrozen into a very vinous ice,Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain;Yet in the very centre, past all price,About a liquid glassful will remain;And this is stronger than the strongest grapeCould e’er express in its expanded shape:’Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence;And thus the chilliest aspects may concentreA hidden nectar under a cold presence.’[377]
‘a bottle of ChampagneFrozen into a very vinous ice,Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain;Yet in the very centre, past all price,About a liquid glassful will remain;And this is stronger than the strongest grapeCould e’er express in its expanded shape:
‘a bottle of Champagne
Frozen into a very vinous ice,
Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain;
Yet in the very centre, past all price,
About a liquid glassful will remain;
And this is stronger than the strongest grape
Could e’er express in its expanded shape:
’Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence;And thus the chilliest aspects may concentreA hidden nectar under a cold presence.’[377]
’Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence;
And thus the chilliest aspects may concentre
A hidden nectar under a cold presence.’[377]
Although we find Henderson remarking, in 1822, that
‘the pink Champagne is less in request than the colourless, and has in fact nothing to entitle it to the preference,’
yet wine of this tint continued to reappear from time to time, securing a transitory popularity from its attractive appearance, which caused it to be likened to the dying reflection of the setting sun on a clear stream. An interesting incident in connection with its advent on one of these occasions at the table of Rogers, the banker-poet, has been recorded by Mr. R. A. Tracy Gould of the American Bar. He was dining, it seems, in company with Tom Moore and John Kenyon, with Rogers at St. James’s-place, when their host, who had recently received through the French Ambassador a present of a case of pink Champagne from Louis Philippe, had the first bottle of it produced at the end of the dinner. The saucer-shaped Champagne glasses were then just coming into use, and pink Champagne, which was a revived novelty in England at that moment, looked singularly beautiful in them, crowned with its snow-white foam. Kenyon, who, as Gould remarks, was nothing if not declamatory, held up his glass, and apostrophised it as follows:
‘Lily on liquid roses floating!So floats yon foam o’er pink Champagne!Fain would I join such pleasant boating,And prove that ruby main,And float away on wine!’
‘Lily on liquid roses floating!So floats yon foam o’er pink Champagne!Fain would I join such pleasant boating,And prove that ruby main,And float away on wine!’
‘Lily on liquid roses floating!So floats yon foam o’er pink Champagne!Fain would I join such pleasant boating,And prove that ruby main,And float away on wine!’
‘Lily on liquid roses floating!
So floats yon foam o’er pink Champagne!
Fain would I join such pleasant boating,
And prove that ruby main,
And float away on wine!’
This being vociferously applauded, after a few minutes’ pause he added the second verse:
‘Those seas are dangerous, graybeards swear,Whose sea-beach is the goblet’s brim;And here it is they drown dull Care—But what care we for him?So we but float on wine!’
‘Those seas are dangerous, graybeards swear,Whose sea-beach is the goblet’s brim;And here it is they drown dull Care—But what care we for him?So we but float on wine!’
‘Those seas are dangerous, graybeards swear,Whose sea-beach is the goblet’s brim;And here it is they drown dull Care—But what care we for him?So we but float on wine!’
‘Those seas are dangerous, graybeards swear,
Whose sea-beach is the goblet’s brim;
And here it is they drown dull Care—
But what care we for him?
So we but float on wine!’
On being desired to continue, Kenyon declared that he had done his part, and that it was now the turn of some one else. Moore and Rogers both claimed exemption, as being on the ‘retired list’ of the Parnassian army, and peremptorily demanded a contribution from the Transatlantic guest, Tracy Gould, who thereupon, with ‘great diffidence,’ as he tells us, delivered himself of the third and fourth stanzas:
‘Gray Time shall pause and smooth his wrinkles,Bright garlands round his scythe shall twine;While sands from out his glass he sprinkles,To fill it up with wine—With rosy sparkling wine!Thus hours shall pass which no man reckons,’Mongst us, who, glad with mirth divine,Heed not the shadowy hand that beckonsAcross the sea of wine—Of billowy gushing wine!’
‘Gray Time shall pause and smooth his wrinkles,Bright garlands round his scythe shall twine;While sands from out his glass he sprinkles,To fill it up with wine—With rosy sparkling wine!Thus hours shall pass which no man reckons,’Mongst us, who, glad with mirth divine,Heed not the shadowy hand that beckonsAcross the sea of wine—Of billowy gushing wine!’
‘Gray Time shall pause and smooth his wrinkles,Bright garlands round his scythe shall twine;While sands from out his glass he sprinkles,To fill it up with wine—With rosy sparkling wine!
‘Gray Time shall pause and smooth his wrinkles,
Bright garlands round his scythe shall twine;
While sands from out his glass he sprinkles,
To fill it up with wine—
With rosy sparkling wine!
Thus hours shall pass which no man reckons,’Mongst us, who, glad with mirth divine,Heed not the shadowy hand that beckonsAcross the sea of wine—Of billowy gushing wine!’
Thus hours shall pass which no man reckons,
’Mongst us, who, glad with mirth divine,
Heed not the shadowy hand that beckons
Across the sea of wine—
Of billowy gushing wine!’
Kenyon then added another stanza, which suggested a final verse to the American:
‘And though ’tis true they cross in pain,Who sober cross the Stygian ferry,Yet only make our Styx Champagne,And we shall cross right merry,Floating away on wine!’‘Old Charon’s self shall make him mellow,Then gaily row his bark from shore;While we and every jolly fellowHear unconcerned the oarThat dips itself in wine!’
‘And though ’tis true they cross in pain,Who sober cross the Stygian ferry,Yet only make our Styx Champagne,And we shall cross right merry,Floating away on wine!’‘Old Charon’s self shall make him mellow,Then gaily row his bark from shore;While we and every jolly fellowHear unconcerned the oarThat dips itself in wine!’
‘And though ’tis true they cross in pain,Who sober cross the Stygian ferry,Yet only make our Styx Champagne,And we shall cross right merry,Floating away on wine!’
‘And though ’tis true they cross in pain,
Who sober cross the Stygian ferry,
Yet only make our Styx Champagne,
And we shall cross right merry,
Floating away on wine!’
‘Old Charon’s self shall make him mellow,Then gaily row his bark from shore;While we and every jolly fellowHear unconcerned the oarThat dips itself in wine!’
‘Old Charon’s self shall make him mellow,
Then gaily row his bark from shore;
While we and every jolly fellow
Hear unconcerned the oar
That dips itself in wine!’
By this time the inspiration and the Champagne were alike exhausted.
The history of Champagne in England during the latter half of the present century may be briefly summed up in the assertion of the ever-growing popularity of the wine, and the high repute attained by certain brands, which it would be invidious to particularise. Its success in oiling the wheels of social life is so great and so universally acknowledged that its eclipse would almost threaten a collapse of our social system. We cannot open a railway, launch a vessel, inaugurate a public edifice, start a newspaper, entertain a distinguished foreigner, invite a leading politician to favour us with his views on things in general, celebrate an anniversary, or specially appeal on behalf of a benevolent institution without a banquet, and hence without the aid of Champagne, which, at the present day, is the obligatory adjunct of all such repasts.
When the Municipality of London welcome the Khan of Kamschatka to our shores and to the Guildhall, Champagne flows in the proverbial buckets full. When the Master and Wardens of the Coalscuttle-Makers’ Company bid the Livery to one of their periodical feasts, scandal says that even this measure is exceeded. When Sir Fusby Guttleton gives one of his noted ‘little spreads’at Greenwich, are not torrents of iced ‘dry’ needed to quench the thirst excited by the devilled bait? Aware, too, of the unloosening effect the wine exercises upon the strings of both heart and purse, Pomposo, as chairman at the annual festival of the Decayed Muffinmongers’ Asylum, is careful to see that the glasses of the guests have been well charged with it before he commences his stirring appeal on behalf of that deserving institution.
Does Ingenioso wish to introduce to the notice of the British public a new heating-power or lighting-apparatus or ice-making machinery, he straightway issues cards for a private view to critics and cognoscenti, and is careful that these shall observe the merits of his invention through the medium of a glass—bubbling over with Champagne. So it is at the openings of the latest extension of the Mugby Junction Railway and of the Palatial Hotel, at the private view of the Amicable Afghans, or Tinto’s new picture, or any one of Crotchet’s manifold inventions. If the bidding, too, flags at a sale of shorthorns or thoroughbreds, at a wink from the auctioneer the Champagne-corks are set a-popping, and advance promptly follows advance in responsive echoes.
Not less important is the part that Champagne plays in the City. Capel Crash, the great financier, literallyfloatsthe concerns he deigns to ‘promote’ by its agency. When Consol, the millionaire, makes one of a set for rigging the market, and the ‘ring’ thus formed has reaped the reward of their ingenuity, does he not entertain his intimate friends with the story and with the choicest Champagne? The amount of business, moreover, transacted by the aid of the wine is incalculable. Bargains in stocks and shares, tea and sugar, cotton and corn, hemp and iron, hides and tallow, broadcloth and shoddy, are clinched by its agency. On the other hand, many a bit of sharp practice has been forgiven, many a hard bargain has been forgotten, many a smouldering resentment has been quenched for ever, and many an enmity healed and a friendship cemented, over a bottle of Champagne.
How do you go to the Derby‘I say, old fellow, how do you go to the Derby this year?’‘O, the old way—hamper-and-four.’(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
‘I say, old fellow, how do you go to the Derby this year?’‘O, the old way—hamper-and-four.’(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
DerbyAT THE DERBY(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
AT THE DERBY(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
The Turf is said to be our national pastime, and no one will deny the close connection existing between sport and Champagne. From the highest to the lowest of that wonderful agglomeration of individuals interested in equine matters, it is recognised as the only standard ‘tipple.’ Champagne goes down to the Derby in its hamper-and-four, like other pertinacious patrons of the race, and its all but ubiquitous presence on the course is warmly welcomed by thousands of thirsty visitors of very various grades. At Ascot, does H. R. H. the Prince of Wales seek to congratulate the Marquis of Hartington on his success, it is by wishing him further success in a glass of sparklingwine. Does Mr. William Kurr, welsher, desire to make the acquaintance of Mr. Druscovitch, detective, he seeks an introduction from Mr. Meiklejohn over a bottle of ‘fiz.’ Does the favourite horse win—quick, fill high the bowl with sparkling wine, to celebrate his triumph; does he lose, the same vintage will serve to drown our sorrows and obliterate the recollection of our losses. How many cunningcoups, how many clever combinations, have there not been worked out in all their details over a bottle of ‘Cham.’ in quiet hotel-parlours at Doncaster or Newmarket! How many bets have been laid and paid in the same medium! How many a jockey has been bought, and how many a race has been sold, owing to the moral as well as physical obliquity of vision which the ingurgitation of the wine has induced! Nor should the existence of Champagne Stakes be forgotten. There are now several races of this name at different meetings; but the oldest is that established at Doncaster in 1828, and taking its title from the fact of the owner of the winner having to present six dozen of Champagne to the Doncaster Club.
Deuced Bad in the CityJones: ‘I say, Brown, things are deuced bad in the City.’Brown: ‘Then I’m deuced glad I’m at Epsom.’(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
Jones: ‘I say, Brown, things are deuced bad in the City.’Brown: ‘Then I’m deuced glad I’m at Epsom.’(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
Look, too, at the influence exercised by the wine on the British drama, or rather on what to-day passes as such. Plagioso the playwright freely opens a bottle of Champagne with the object ofstimulating the wit of his friend and collaborateur in the task of adapting Messrs. Meilhac & Halévy’s latest production to the London stage. Adverse critics, moreover, are said to be mollified by the subjugating influence of the wine; while authors, enraged at the way in which their pieces have been ‘cut,’ are similarly soothed; squabbles too between rivalartistesas to parts and lengths are satisfactorily arranged in the managerial sanctum over a bottle of fiz. Does Lord Nortiboy wish to smooth over a tiff with the tow-haired young lady who is making ducks and drakes of his money at the Gynarchic Theatre, and whose partiality for sparkling wine is notorious, a dinner at Richmond and floods of ‘Cham’ for herself and friends is the plan that naturally suggests itself. Should the enterprising lessees of the Chansonnette Theatre determine to celebrate the thousand and first night of the run ofTheir Girls, a Champagne supper is recognised as the fit and proper method of doing so. Supper is the favourite meal of the profession, and Champagne is of course the best of all wine to take at that repast. On the stage itself it has often proved of very serious service. Robust tragedians and primadonnas in good training may indulge in stout, as more ‘mellering to the organ;’ but by the judicious administration of Champagne many a nervousdébutanthas been encouraged to conquer ‘stage fright’ and to face the footlights, many a jadedtragédienneenabled to rally her fainting energies in the last act, and to carry her audience with her in a final outburst of pathos or passion.
A Flûte of Champagne
Star and GarterAT THE STAR AND GARTER, RICHMOND.
AT THE STAR AND GARTER, RICHMOND.
Statesmen no longer prime themselves with Port before strolling down to the House, till they get into the condition of the two members, one of whom averred that he could not see any Speaker in the chair, whilst the other gravely accounted for the phenomenon of this disappearance by asserting that, for his part, he saw a couple. Perhaps it is to be regretted that the records of the ‘tea-room’ do not vouch for a larger consumption of Champagne, as then perhaps the reporters overnight and their readers the nest morning might escape the wearisome reiteration of purposeless recrimination and threadbare platitudes. Such should certainly be the case, since the power of the wine as an incentive to brisk and sparkling conversation has been universally acknowledged in social life.
Dry Wine‘Now, George, my boy, there’s a glass of Champagne for you. Don’t get such stuff at school, eh?’‘H’m! Awfully sweet. Very good sort for ladies. But I’ve arrived at a time of life when I confess I like my wine dry.’(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
‘Now, George, my boy, there’s a glass of Champagne for you. Don’t get such stuff at school, eh?’‘H’m! Awfully sweet. Very good sort for ladies. But I’ve arrived at a time of life when I confess I like my wine dry.’(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch.’)
To the dinners of Bloomsbury and Belgravia, as well as the suppers of Bohemia, Champagne imparts a charm peculiarly its own by placing all there presenten rapport. The modern mind may well look back with shuddering horror to that dreary period when Champagne, if given at all, was doled out at dinner-parties ‘like drops of blood.’ No wonder the ladies used to fly from the table and the gentlemen to slide underneath it. And, speaking of the ladies, is not Champagne their winepar excellence? How would the fragile products of modern civilisation be able to outdothe most robust of their ancestresses—whose highest saltatory feats were the execution of the slow and stately minuet, the formal quadrille with its frequent rests, or at most the romping country dance—by whirling almost uninterruptedly in the mazes of the giddy waltz from nine in the evening until five in the morning, without the sustaining power the sparkling fluid affords them? Has it not on their tongues an influence equal to that which it exercises on their swiftly-flying feet, inspiring pretty prattle, sparkling repartee, enchanting smiles, and silvery laughter? Old Bertin du Rocheret was quite right when he invited his fair friends to continue drinking
‘De ce nectar délicieux,Qui pétille dans vos beaux yeuxMieux qu’il ne brille dans mon verre.’
‘De ce nectar délicieux,Qui pétille dans vos beaux yeuxMieux qu’il ne brille dans mon verre.’
‘De ce nectar délicieux,Qui pétille dans vos beaux yeuxMieux qu’il ne brille dans mon verre.’
‘De ce nectar délicieux,
Qui pétille dans vos beaux yeux
Mieux qu’il ne brille dans mon verre.’
Since these lines were penned, many thousands of bright eyes have so borrowed an additional lustre.
Another Glass of Champagne
Flirtation under Palms
It would certainly be going too far to suggest that flirtation and Champagne must have been introduced simultaneously, yet the former can only have attained perfection since the advent of the latter. Only consider what a failure a picnic or a garden-or water-party, or any other kind of entertainment to which that much-abused termfête champêtreis applied, and where flirtation would be, without Champagne! As a matrimonial agent, Champagne’s achievements outdo those of the cleverest of manœuvring mammas. It was solely those two extra glasses at supper which emboldened young Impey Cue of the Foreign Office to summon up sufficient courage to propose in the conservatory to Miss Yellowboy, the great heiress; and Impey Cue now lords it at Yellowboy Park as though to the manor born. Nor must the part it plays on the eventful day when the fatal knot is firmly tied be overlooked. It has been cynically remarked that it is a painful spectacle even for the most hardened to witness the consigning of a victim to the doom matrimonial; and that it becomes all the more painful when, under the futile pretext of festivity, bewildered fathers, harassed mothers, sorrowing sisters, envious cousins, bored connections,and pitying friends, arrayed in their best attire, meet at an abnormally early hour round the miscalled social board. Still, fancy what a wedding breakfast would be without the accompaniment of Champagne!
Social TreadmillTHE SOCIAL TREADMILL—THE WEDDING BREAKFAST(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch’).
THE SOCIAL TREADMILL—THE WEDDING BREAKFAST(From a drawing by John Leech in ‘Punch’).
With mamma in tears and papa in the fidgets, the bride half-way towards hysterics, and the bridegroom wishing from the bottom of his heart that the crowded dining-room would suddenly transform itself into a securely-locked first-class coupé speeding onwards in the direction of Dover, the task of those speakers on whom devolves the duty of descanting upon ‘the happy occasion which has brought us together’ is of a surety no easy one. And it would be still more uphill work were it not for the amount of cheerful inspiration fortunately to be drawn from the familiarfoil-topped bottles. By and by, when the more serious speeches have been duly stammered through, and the jovial bachelor—a middle-aged one by preference—rises to propose ‘the health of the bridesmaids,’ bursts of laughter from the men and responsive titters, bubbling up like the sparkling atoms in the wine which has inspired them, from the lips of the damsels in question and their compeers, prove beyond question that Champagne has done its duty in dissipating the gloom originally prevailing.
Coming of AgeCOMING OF AGE (Drawn by R. Caldecott).
COMING OF AGE (Drawn by R. Caldecott).
A wedding, too, is the customary precursor of other family gatherings at which the vintage of the Marne plays the same enlivening part. There are, for instance, christenings where godfathers bring as their offerings masterpieces of the silversmith’s craft, and the infant’s health is quaffed by turns in
‘Sherry in silver, Hock in gold, and glassed Champagne;’
‘Sherry in silver, Hock in gold, and glassed Champagne;’
‘Sherry in silver, Hock in gold, and glassed Champagne;’
‘Sherry in silver, Hock in gold, and glassed Champagne;’
for the wine of mirth is out of place in metal, however precious, and needs the purest crystal to exhibit all its finer qualities. There are also coming-of-age banquets, whereat young Hopeful is enabled to stumble and stutter through a series of jerky and disjointed phrases of thanks—commonplace as they may be, which never fail to awaken the tenderest emotions in the heart of the maternal author of his being—by the aid of sundry glasses of the sparkling wine of the Marne.
‘O the wildfire wine of France!Quick with fantasies florescent,Rapturously effervescent,How its atoms leap and dance!Floric fount of love and laughter,Where its emanations riseAll the difficulty diesFrom the now and the hereafter.Through the happy golden hazeTime’s gray cheek is bright with dimples,And his laugh more lightly wimplesThan the sea’s on summer days.Tongue and throat it makes to tingle,Beats the blood from heart to vein,And ascending to the brain,Bids the spirit forth and mingleWith a world no longer grim,But serene and sweet and spacious,Where the girls are fair and gracious,And the Cupids light of limb.Soul and sense are all untethered!Who would be an angel when,Clement king of gods and men,He can soar so grandly, featheredWith thy plumage, O Champagne?Bottled gladness! thou magician!Silver-bearded! mist Elysian!Ecstasy of sun and rain!Swift and subtle, glad and glorious,O the wildfire wine of France!How its atoms frisk and dance,Over Fate and Time victorious!’
‘O the wildfire wine of France!Quick with fantasies florescent,Rapturously effervescent,How its atoms leap and dance!Floric fount of love and laughter,Where its emanations riseAll the difficulty diesFrom the now and the hereafter.Through the happy golden hazeTime’s gray cheek is bright with dimples,And his laugh more lightly wimplesThan the sea’s on summer days.Tongue and throat it makes to tingle,Beats the blood from heart to vein,And ascending to the brain,Bids the spirit forth and mingleWith a world no longer grim,But serene and sweet and spacious,Where the girls are fair and gracious,And the Cupids light of limb.Soul and sense are all untethered!Who would be an angel when,Clement king of gods and men,He can soar so grandly, featheredWith thy plumage, O Champagne?Bottled gladness! thou magician!Silver-bearded! mist Elysian!Ecstasy of sun and rain!Swift and subtle, glad and glorious,O the wildfire wine of France!How its atoms frisk and dance,Over Fate and Time victorious!’
‘O the wildfire wine of France!Quick with fantasies florescent,Rapturously effervescent,How its atoms leap and dance!
‘O the wildfire wine of France!
Quick with fantasies florescent,
Rapturously effervescent,
How its atoms leap and dance!
Floric fount of love and laughter,Where its emanations riseAll the difficulty diesFrom the now and the hereafter.Through the happy golden hazeTime’s gray cheek is bright with dimples,And his laugh more lightly wimplesThan the sea’s on summer days.
Floric fount of love and laughter,
Where its emanations rise
All the difficulty dies
From the now and the hereafter.
Through the happy golden haze
Time’s gray cheek is bright with dimples,
And his laugh more lightly wimples
Than the sea’s on summer days.
Tongue and throat it makes to tingle,Beats the blood from heart to vein,And ascending to the brain,Bids the spirit forth and mingleWith a world no longer grim,But serene and sweet and spacious,Where the girls are fair and gracious,And the Cupids light of limb.
Tongue and throat it makes to tingle,
Beats the blood from heart to vein,
And ascending to the brain,
Bids the spirit forth and mingle
With a world no longer grim,
But serene and sweet and spacious,
Where the girls are fair and gracious,
And the Cupids light of limb.
Soul and sense are all untethered!Who would be an angel when,Clement king of gods and men,He can soar so grandly, featheredWith thy plumage, O Champagne?Bottled gladness! thou magician!Silver-bearded! mist Elysian!Ecstasy of sun and rain!
Soul and sense are all untethered!
Who would be an angel when,
Clement king of gods and men,
He can soar so grandly, feathered
With thy plumage, O Champagne?
Bottled gladness! thou magician!
Silver-bearded! mist Elysian!
Ecstasy of sun and rain!
Swift and subtle, glad and glorious,O the wildfire wine of France!How its atoms frisk and dance,Over Fate and Time victorious!’
Swift and subtle, glad and glorious,
O the wildfire wine of France!
How its atoms frisk and dance,
Over Fate and Time victorious!’
End of Chapter VI
Map of Champagne Vineyards
HautvillersTHE VINEYARDS AND ABBEY OF HAUTVILLERS.
THE VINEYARDS AND ABBEY OF HAUTVILLERS.
Château de BoursaultCHÂTEAU DE BOURSAULT.
CHÂTEAU DE BOURSAULT.
The vinelands in the neighbourhood of Epernay—Viticultural area of the Champagne—A visit to the vineyards of ‘golden plants’—The Dizy vineyards—Antiquity of the Ay vineyards—St. Tresain and the wine-growers of Ay—The Ay vintage of 1871—The Mareuil vineyards and their produce—Avernay; its vineyards, wines, and ancient abbey—The vineyards of Mutigny and Cumières—Damery and ‘la belle hôtesse’ of Henri Quatre—Adrienne Lecouvreur and the Maréchal de Saxe’s matrimonial schemes—Pilgrimage to Hautvillers—Remains of the Royal Abbey of St. Peter—The ancient church—Its quaint decorations and monuments—The view from the heights of Hautvillers—The abbey vineyards and wine-cellars in the days of Dom Perignon—The vinelands of the Côte d’Epernay—Pierry and its vineyard cellars—The Moussy, Vinay, and Ablois St. Martin vineyards—The Côte d’Avize—Chavot, Monthelon, Grauves, and Cuis—The vineyards of Cramant and Avize, and their light delicate white wines—The Oger and Le Mesnil vineyards—Vertus and its picturesque ancient remains—Its vineyards planted with Burgundy grapes from Beaune—The red wine of Vertus a favourite beverage of William III. of England.
WITHthe exception of certain famous vineyards of the Rhône, the vinelands of the Champagne may, perhaps, be classed among the most picturesque of the more notable vine-districts of France. Between Paris and Epernay, even, the banks of the Marne present a series of scenes of quiet beauty. The undulating ground is everywhere cultivated like a garden. Handsome châteaux and charming country houses peep out fromamid luxuriant foliage. Picturesque antiquated villages line the river’s bank or climb the hill-sides, and after leaving La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, the cradle of the Condés, all the more favoured situations commence to be covered with vines.
This is especially the case in the vicinity of Château-Thierry—the birthplace of La Fontaine—where the view is shut in on all sides by vine-clad slopes, which the spring frosts seldom spare. Hence merely one good vintage out of four gladdens the hearts of the peasant proprietors, who find eager purchasers for their produce among the lower-class manufacturers of Champagne. In the same way thepetit vin de Chierry, dexterously prepared and judiciously mingled with other growths, often figures as ‘Fleur de Sillery’ or ‘Ay Mousseux.’ In reality it is not until we have passed the ornate modern Gothic château of Boursault, erected in her declining years by the wealthy Veuve Clicquot, by far the shrewdest manipulator of the sparkling products of Ay and Bouzy of her day, and the many towers and turrets of which, rising above umbrageous trees, crown the loftiest height within eyeshot of Epernay, that we find ourselves in that charmed circle of vineyards whence Champagne—the wine, not merely of princes, as it has been somewhat obsequiously termed, but essentially thevin de société—is derived.
The vinelands in the vicinity of Epernay, and consequently near the Marne, are commonly known as the ‘Vineyards of the River,’ whilst those covering the slopes in the neighbourhood of Reims are termed the ‘Vineyards of the Mountain.’ The Vineyards of the River comprise three distinct divisions—first, those lining the right bank of the Marne and enjoying a southern and south-eastern aspect, among which are Ay, Hautvillers, Cumières, Dizy, and Mareuil; secondly, the Côte d’Epernay on the left bank of the river, of which Pierry, Moussy, and Vinay form part; and thirdly, the Côte d’Avize (the regionpar excellenceof white grapes), which stretches towards the south-east, and includes the vinelands of Cramant, Avize, Oger, Le Mesnil, and Vertus. The entire vineyard area is upwards of 40,000 acres.[378]
The Champagne vineyards most widely celebrated abroad are those of Ay and Sillery, although the last named are really the smallest in the Champagne district. Ay, distant only a few minutes by rail from Epernay, is in the immediate centre of the Vinelands of the River, having Mareuil and Avenay on the east, and Dizy, Hautvillers, and Cumières on the west; while Sillery lies at the foot of the so-called Mountain of Reims, and within an hour’s drive of the old cathedral city.
It was on one of those occasional sunshiny days in the early part of October[379]when we first visited Ay—the vineyard of ‘golden plants,’ the uniquepremier cruof the Wines of the River—and the various adjacent vinelands. The road lay between two rows of closely-planted poplar-trees reaching almost to the village of Dizy, whose quaint gray church-tower, with its gabled roof, is dominated by the neighbouring vine-clad slopes, which extend from Avenay to Venteuil, some few miles beyond Hautvillers, the cradle, so to speak, of thevin mousseuxof the Champagne. The vineyards of Dizy, the upper soil of which is largely mixed with loose stones, have chiefly a southern or western aspect, and, excepting in the case of the precipitous height suggestively styled ‘Grimpe Chat,’ their incline is generally a gentle one. In these vineyards, which rank among thepremiers crusof the Champagne, a quantity of wine from white grapes is regularly made.
From Dizy the road runs immediately at the base of vine-clad slopes, broken up occasionally by a conical peak detaching itself from the mass, and tinted from base to summit with richly-variegated hues, among which deep purple, yellow, green, gray, and crimson by turns predominate. On our right hand we pass a vineyard called Le Léon, which tradition asserts to be the one whence Pope Leo the Magnificent, the patron of Michael Angelo, Raffaelle, and Da Vinci, drew his supply of Aywine. The village of Ay lies immediately before us at the foot of the slopes of vines, with the tapering spire of its ancient church rising above the neighbouring hills and cutting sharply against the bright blue sky. The vineyards, which spread themselves over a calcareous declivity, have mostly a full southern aspect, and the predominating vines are those known as golden plants, the fruit of which is of a deep purple colour. After these comes theplant vert doré, and then a moderate proportion of theplant gris, white varieties of grapes being no longer cultivated as formerly.[380]