One peculiarity of the Champagne district is that, contrary to the prevailing practice in the other wine-producing regions of France, where the owner of even a single acre of vines will crush his grapes himself, only a limited number of vine-proprietors press their own grapes. The large Champagne houses, possessing vineyards, always have their pressoirs in the neighbourhood, and other large vine-proprietors press the grapes they grow; but the multitude of small cultivators invariably sell the produce of their vineyards to one or other of the former at a certain rate, either by weight or else by caque, a measure estimated to hold sixty kilogrammes (equal to 132 lb. avoirdupois) of grapes. The price which the fruit fetches varies of course according to the quality of the vintage and the requirements of the manufacturers; but the average may be taken at about 80 centimes per kilogramme, equivalent to rather more than 3 ½ d. per lb.[409]
If in the Champagne the picturesque rejoicings immortalised in the Italian vintage scenes of Léopold Robert are lacking, and if the grapes, instead of being trodden to the blithe accompaniment of flute and fiddle, as in some parts of France, are pressed in more quiet fashion, a pleasant air of jollity nevertheless pervades the district at the season of the vintage. Every one participates in the interest which this excites. It influences the takings of all the artificers and all the tradespeople, and brings grist to the mill of the baker and the bootmaker, as well as to the café and cabaret. The contending interests of capital and labour are, moreover, singularly satisfied, the vintagers being content at getting their two francs and a half a day, and the men at the pressoirs their three francs and their food; the vineyard proprietor reaping the return of the time, care, and money expended upon his patch of vines, and the Champagne manufacturer acquiring raw material on sufficiently satisfactory terms, the which, when duly guaranteed by his name and brand, will bring to him both fame and fortune.
Should the vintage be a scanty one, the plethoric commissionnaires-en-vins will wipe their perspiring foreheads with satisfaction when they have at last secured the full number of hogsheads they had been instructed to buy—at a high figure maybe; still this is no disadvantage to them, as their commission mounts up the higher. And even the thickest-skulled among the small vine-proprietors, who make all their calculations on their fingers, see at a glance that, although the crop may be no more than half an average one, they are gainers, thanks to the ill-disguised anxiety of the agents to secure all the wine they require, which has the effect of sending prices up to nearly double those of ordinary years, and this with only half the work in the vineyard and at the winepress to be done.
The vintage in the Champagne comes to a close without any of those festivals which still linger in the department of the Gironde. On the 22d of January, the fête of St. Vincent, the patron saint of vine-growers, it is customary, however, for one of the proprietors in each village to pay for a mass and give a breakfast to his relatives and friends, at which he presents a bouquet to one of the guests, who, in his turn, is expected to pay for the mass and give the breakfast the year following. On the same day the proprietors entertain their workpeople, who, after having eaten and drunk their fill, wind up the day with song and dance, leading to no end of innocent philandering between the sturdy sons of toil and the sunburnt daughters of labour. On these occasions the famous vintage song is sometimes heard:
‘Vendangeons et vive la France,
Le monde un jour avec nous trinquera.’