CHAPTER: XIIITHE OLD WINES AND THE NEWDecline and fall of port — Old topers — A youthful wine-bibber — The whisky age succeeds the port age — “Jeropiga” — Landladies’ port — A monopoly — Portv.gout — A quaint breakfast in Reading — About nightcaps — Sherry an absolutely pure wine — Except when made within the four miles’ radius — Treading the grapes — “Yeso” — Pliny pops up again — “Lime in the sack” — What theLancetsays — “Old Sherry” —Faux pasof a General — About vintages.On the decline and fall of port wine volumes might be written. At the same time I am not the man who is going to write them. According to early recollections, the conversation of my elders was limited to hunting, racing, and the wines of Oporto. The man who had “ ’20,” or “Comet,” port in his cellars was a man to be cultivated, and dined with; whilst “ ’34” and “ ’47” men were next in demand. And this was after the era of the three-and-four-bottle heroes, of whose deeds I have heard my father speak, almost with bated breath; how, after the retirement of the ladies, to discuss tea and scandal by themselves, the dining-room door would be locked by the host himself, who would{138}pocket the key thereof. Many of the guests slept where they fell, “repugnant to command,” like the sword of Pyrrhus, whilst others would be fastened in the interior of their chariots at a later hour. Even in the late fifties, the estimable divine with whom I was studying the beauties of the classics, would on the frequent occasion of a dinner-party provide one bottle of port per head, for his guests, in addition to hock, champagne, and sherry; and the writer, then a boy of fifteen, was included amongst the “heads.”But as the stone age succeeded the ice age, as the iron age succeeded the stone age, and as the gold age, and the railway age, and the rotten company age succeeded the iron age, so have the whisky age, and the “small bottle” age, and the gin-and-bitters age almost wiped out the age when man drank, talked, and thought port. Our ancestors were immoderate in their potations but, as far as wine went, these were but rarely indulged in until after sundown, although the Briton would frequently wash his breakfast down with ale of the strongest. And it is difficult to believe that the evil habit of “nipping,” at all hours of the day, which now prevails in some circles—a habit which is mainly due to the break-neck pace at which life is pursued—is either more conducive to health or intellectuality, or morality than the after-dinner debauch of a century ago.The “hot and heady” wine is (or, rather, was) produced chiefly in a mountainous district of Portugal called Cima de Douro. The wine is largely mixed with spirit even during{139}fermentation, the proper colour being given by a mixture known asjeropiga, which is a preparation of elder-berries, molasses, raisin juice, and spirit.The wine which is made within the Metropolitan Police District, for the special benefit of landladies, infirmaries, and she-choristers, is also treated with a similar mixture, with the addition of a little logwood-extract; but in fashionable quarters the mixture is not known asjeropiga, a name which would probably affect the sale.Port wine was known in England before the year 1700, but was not in much demand. From the year mentioned till 1826 the export trade was a monopoly in the hands of English merchants. The effect of this monopoly was to increase the price in England, and to gradually deteriorate the quality. Exports from Oporto have decreased in a marked way for the last forty years or so; and although there is still some demand, and some decent wine left, the “hot and heady” concoction whether dry or fruity, a lady’s wine, or a military ditto, is gradually leaving us.The pity ofit !And simultaneously with its departure comes the pronouncement of the medical profession that port (with the exception of the “old crusted” brand) doesnotencourage gout to abide within the human frame. I may fairly claim to have been a “port man” all my life, and never, when serving Her Majesty, overlooked my orthodox allowance of the “black strap” purchased with the Prince Regent’s allowance. Nevertheless I am not going to recommend this description of wine as an ideal breakfast drink; although very early in{140}life I once made trial of it at nine o’clock one morning.This was in the good town of Reading, in company with a schoolmate or two. We were on our way home for the holidays, and had been entrusted, for the first part of the journey, to the care of the French master. Him we had evaded for the time being—he was much interested in the manufacture of sweet biscuits—and marching boldly into the best inn’s best room, we demanded bread and cheese and a bottle of the most expensive port on the wine-list. Schoolboy-like our fancy turned to quaintness in the matter of meals; and I am bound to add that the state of our health was not one whit improved by this weird breakfast. As for the French master, no sooner had he run us to earth, than――but that part of the story is too painful to tell.
Decline and fall of port — Old topers — A youthful wine-bibber — The whisky age succeeds the port age — “Jeropiga” — Landladies’ port — A monopoly — Portv.gout — A quaint breakfast in Reading — About nightcaps — Sherry an absolutely pure wine — Except when made within the four miles’ radius — Treading the grapes — “Yeso” — Pliny pops up again — “Lime in the sack” — What theLancetsays — “Old Sherry” —Faux pasof a General — About vintages.
On the decline and fall of port wine volumes might be written. At the same time I am not the man who is going to write them. According to early recollections, the conversation of my elders was limited to hunting, racing, and the wines of Oporto. The man who had “ ’20,” or “Comet,” port in his cellars was a man to be cultivated, and dined with; whilst “ ’34” and “ ’47” men were next in demand. And this was after the era of the three-and-four-bottle heroes, of whose deeds I have heard my father speak, almost with bated breath; how, after the retirement of the ladies, to discuss tea and scandal by themselves, the dining-room door would be locked by the host himself, who would{138}pocket the key thereof. Many of the guests slept where they fell, “repugnant to command,” like the sword of Pyrrhus, whilst others would be fastened in the interior of their chariots at a later hour. Even in the late fifties, the estimable divine with whom I was studying the beauties of the classics, would on the frequent occasion of a dinner-party provide one bottle of port per head, for his guests, in addition to hock, champagne, and sherry; and the writer, then a boy of fifteen, was included amongst the “heads.”
But as the stone age succeeded the ice age, as the iron age succeeded the stone age, and as the gold age, and the railway age, and the rotten company age succeeded the iron age, so have the whisky age, and the “small bottle” age, and the gin-and-bitters age almost wiped out the age when man drank, talked, and thought port. Our ancestors were immoderate in their potations but, as far as wine went, these were but rarely indulged in until after sundown, although the Briton would frequently wash his breakfast down with ale of the strongest. And it is difficult to believe that the evil habit of “nipping,” at all hours of the day, which now prevails in some circles—a habit which is mainly due to the break-neck pace at which life is pursued—is either more conducive to health or intellectuality, or morality than the after-dinner debauch of a century ago.
The “hot and heady” wine is (or, rather, was) produced chiefly in a mountainous district of Portugal called Cima de Douro. The wine is largely mixed with spirit even during{139}fermentation, the proper colour being given by a mixture known asjeropiga, which is a preparation of elder-berries, molasses, raisin juice, and spirit.
The wine which is made within the Metropolitan Police District, for the special benefit of landladies, infirmaries, and she-choristers, is also treated with a similar mixture, with the addition of a little logwood-extract; but in fashionable quarters the mixture is not known asjeropiga, a name which would probably affect the sale.
Port wine was known in England before the year 1700, but was not in much demand. From the year mentioned till 1826 the export trade was a monopoly in the hands of English merchants. The effect of this monopoly was to increase the price in England, and to gradually deteriorate the quality. Exports from Oporto have decreased in a marked way for the last forty years or so; and although there is still some demand, and some decent wine left, the “hot and heady” concoction whether dry or fruity, a lady’s wine, or a military ditto, is gradually leaving us.
The pity ofit !And simultaneously with its departure comes the pronouncement of the medical profession that port (with the exception of the “old crusted” brand) doesnotencourage gout to abide within the human frame. I may fairly claim to have been a “port man” all my life, and never, when serving Her Majesty, overlooked my orthodox allowance of the “black strap” purchased with the Prince Regent’s allowance. Nevertheless I am not going to recommend this description of wine as an ideal breakfast drink; although very early in{140}life I once made trial of it at nine o’clock one morning.
This was in the good town of Reading, in company with a schoolmate or two. We were on our way home for the holidays, and had been entrusted, for the first part of the journey, to the care of the French master. Him we had evaded for the time being—he was much interested in the manufacture of sweet biscuits—and marching boldly into the best inn’s best room, we demanded bread and cheese and a bottle of the most expensive port on the wine-list. Schoolboy-like our fancy turned to quaintness in the matter of meals; and I am bound to add that the state of our health was not one whit improved by this weird breakfast. As for the French master, no sooner had he run us to earth, than――but that part of the story is too painful to tell.