Tickell has noted the appreciation of Brooks’ Champagne shown by Pitt’s great rival in the lines addressed to Sheridan, and purporting to be an invitation to supper from Fox. The illustrious member for Westminster promises his guest that
‘Derby shall send, if not his plate, his cooks,
And know I’ve bought the best Champaign from Brooks.’[348]
Brooks’ Club enjoyed a high reputation for its Champagne, and we find Fighting Fitzgerald emptying three bottles there without assistance, the same evening on which he bullied the members into electing him.[349]
The year after the Treaty of Commerce was signed, we have an anonymous writer remarking[350] that in time of peace the English drew large quantities of wine from Bordeaux and Nantes, and that the other French wines they were in the habit of consuming were those of Mantes, Burgundy, and Champagne, shipped respectively from Rouen, Dunkirk, and Calais. Arthur Young, writing at the same time, remarks, apropos of Champagne, that the trade with England ‘used to be directly from Epernay; but now the wine is sent to Calais, Boulogne, Montreuil, and Guernsey, in order to be passed into England they suppose here by smuggling. This may explain our Champagne not being so good as formerly.’[351] It is to be hoped that neither Arthur Young nor other connoisseurs of Champagne had been enticed into drinking as the genuine article any of the produce of the vineyard which the Hon. Charles Hamilton had planted with the Auvernat grape near Cobham, in Surrey, and which was said to yield a wine ‘resembling Champagne.’[352]
The reduction of duty consequent upon the treaty as a matter of course largely increased the importation of French wine. Respecting the taste for Champagne then prevailing in England, and the price the wine commanded, a few interesting particulars are afforded by the early correspondence and account-books of Messrs. Moët & Chandon of Epernay, which we have courteously been permitted to inspect. From these we find that in October 1788 the Chevalier Colebrook, writing in French to the firm from Bath, asks that seventy-two bottles of Champagne may be sent to his friend, the Hon. John Butler of Molesworth-street, Dublin, ‘who, if content with the wine, will become a very good customer, being rich, keeping a good house, and receiving many amateurs of vin de Champagne.’ The writer is no doubt the ‘M. Collebrock’ to whom the firm shortly afterwards forward fifty bottles of ‘vin non mousseux, 1783,’ on his own account. Messrs. Carbonnell, Moody, & Walker, predecessors of the well-known existing firm of Carbonnell & Co., London, in a letter dated November 1788, and also written in French, say: ‘If you can supply us with some Champagne of a very good body, not too much charged with liqueur, but with an excellent flavour, and not at all moussu, we beg you to send two ten dozen baskets. Also, if you have any dry Champagne of very good flavour, solidity, and excellent body, send two baskets of the same size.’
The taste of the day was evidently for a full-bodied non-sparkling wine; and this is confirmed by Jeanson, Messrs. Moët’s traveller in England, who writes from London in May 1790: ‘How the taste of this country has altered within the last ten years! Almost everywhere they ask for a dry wine; but they want a wine so vinous and so strong, that there is hardly anything but Sillery that will satisfy them.’ Additional confirmation is found in a letter, written from London in May 1799 to Messrs. Moët, by a Mr. John Motteux, complaining of delay in the delivery of a parcel of wine said to have been sent off by way of Havre, and very likely destined to be surreptitiously introduced into England viâ Guernsey. He asks for a further supply of Sillery, if its safe arrival can be guaranteed, and remarks, ‘There is nothing to be compared to Sillery when it is genuine; it must not have the least sweetness nor mousse.’[353]
During the great French war, patriotism and increased duties might have been expected to check the import of French wines; yet, if statistics are worth anything, the reverse would appear to have been the case. The registered imports, which from 1770 to 1786 had fluctuated between 80,000 and 125,000 gallons, rose during the last fourteen years of the century to an average of 550,000 gallons per annum. In those fighting, rollicking, hard-drinking times, when it was a sacred social duty to toast ‘great George our King’ on every possible occasion, Champagne continued to be ‘the wine of fashion.’ The sparkling variety was terribly costly, no doubt, and was often doled out, as Mr. Walker relates, ‘like drops of blood.’[354] But whilst the stanch admirers of Port might profess to despise Champagne as effeminate, and the ‘loyal volunteers’ condemn it as the produce of a foeman’s soil, there were plenty to sing in honour of ‘The Fair of Britain’s Isle:’
‘Fill, fill the glass, to beauty charge,
And banish care from every breast;