The registered imports of the wines of France—though figures in this respect are, we admit, exceedingly deceptive—show a continuous falling off, which reached its lowest ebb in 1746, during war time; and we may be certain that when, after supper,
‘Champagne was the word for two whole hours by Shrewsbury clock,’[326]
it was at the cost of a pretty penny. Although the recorded imports of French wines show but little improvement with the return of peace in 1748, we gather from other sources that the Champagne of 1749 met with a ready market over here, and find Bertin du Rocheret writing exultingly to his friend, the Marquis de Calvières, that the Champenois were making the English pay the cost of the war.
The voluminous correspondence of Bertin du Rocheret gives some curious information as to the manner in which the Champagne trade was carried on with England during the second quarter of the eighteenth century. From 1725 to 1754 he was in constant communication with Mr. James Chabane, who seems to have been the Court wine-merchant, and to whom he despatched at first ten, but during the latter portion of their transactions seldom more than four, pièces of wine annually during the winter months.[327] As regards the particular vintage consumed in England, a preference evidently existed for that of Ay, though it really appears as if Bertin was wont to introduce under this name the then far cheaper growths of Avize. Such, at any rate, seems to have been the case with the parcel of wine divided, in 1754, between King George in London and King Stanislas at Nancy. Referring to the wines of Hautvillers and Sillery, Bertin writes to Chabane in 1731, that a year’s notice must be given in advance to obtain them. A liquoreux wine was then preferred, as in 1732 he remarks, respecting the yield of the preceding year, that the English are as mad after liqueur as the French; and it is evident that the taste continued, as in 1744 he announces the departure for London of eleven poinçons liquoreux.
Not only was Chabane accustomed to bottle these wines, but while doing so was able to insure to them a semi-sparkling character. With this view Bertin tells him, in 1731, that he must not keep them in cask after the three sèves, or motions of the sap of April, June, or August, except in the case of a pièce from ‘the clos’ reserved ‘for the supply of the Court,’ and intended to be drunk as still wine. Some wine despatched in 1754 is recommended to be bottled during the first quarter of the moon.[328] In addition to the wine thus sent in casks, Bertin was also accustomed to send his correspondent a certain quantity in bottles. In 1725 he quotes for him ‘flacons blancs mousseux liqueur,’ at from 30 to 50 sols, and ‘ambrés non-mousseux sablant,’ at 25 sols. These flasks were all despatched to Dunkirk or into Holland, whence they were smuggled to their ultimate destination, for the introduction of wine in bottles into England was rigidly prohibited until the close of 1745, when it was legalised by Act of Parliament.[329]
SCENE AT VAUXHALL GARDENS
(From an engraving after a drawing by Gravelot).
Horace Walpole, who deals with men rather than manners, with sayings rather than doings, and whose forte is epigram and not description, has little to tell us about the drinking customs of his day. The strictly temperate regimen that marked his later years, and rendered him unfit for mere convivial gatherings, extended to his writings, and he seldom permits his pen to expatiate on those pleasures in which he sought no share. Even in his letters from Reims, written in 1739, when he was doing the grand tour, he omits all mention of the wine for which that city is famed. Still he incidentally furnishes a few instances of the esteem in which Champagne was held by the upper classes in the middle of the eighteenth century. In a letter to George Montague, dated June 23, 1750, he describes how Lord Granby joined his party at Vauxhall whilst suffering considerably under the influence of the Champagne he had consumed at ‘Jenny’s Whim,’ a noted tavern at Chelsea; and writing to Sir Horace Mann, a year later, he says that the then chief subjects of conversation in London were the two Miss Gunnings and an extravagant dinner at White’s.