Chapter XII (2)

Naturally the first thing to suggest itself, therefore, in the making of the wine, is the place in which it is made. There is no doubt that in Australia the importance of a proper cellar has never been sufficiently appreciated. But the French have a proverb, "the cellar makes the wine," showing that it plays no inconsiderable part in the production of good wine. As Mr. Walter W. Pownall, the representative of the Australian Wine Company, explained before the Vegetable Products Commission in Victoria, a knowledge of cellar routine and cellar work would aroid the spoiling of much good wine. A man thinks when he has grown the wine that is all that is necessary. But the fact is, a wine-grower has never done with his wine till it has passed out of his hands.

There was a valuable pamphlet on Australian wines written by the late Doctor Bleasdale, of Melbourne, in 1876. It is now out of print, and regrettedly so, for the worthy Doctor was one of the best connoisseurs of wine Australia ever had. Mr. L. Bruck, the well-known medical publisher of Sydney, however, has placed me under considerable obligation by giving me his own copy, and in the preface therein I note that the author, in speaking of this very question, remarks:--"I would here reiterate what I have often stated, namely, that if the cellar management in the three colonies were equal to the magnificent produce of the vines, no "country on the earth could surpass, in quality and variety "of kinds, Victoria, South Australia, and New South Wales."

Then again, Mr. James Smith, of Melbourne, in the course of his admirable prize essay on Australian wine, which appeared in GREVILLE'S YEAR BOOK OF AUSTRALIA for 1886, has these observations on this subject:--"It is, however, in the management of the cellar that one must look for the most efficient means of securing that uniformity of quality which I regard as such an important desideratum. If it be not a science, it is certainly an art requiring special knowledge, training, and experience, combined, perhaps, with natural aptitude. And it is precisely in this respect, I fear, that our deficiency in Australia is greatest.

"In the wine-making countries of Europe the cellarmaster is an expert who inherits the skill, traditions, methods, and usages of many generations of men who have adopted and followed the same calling. His organs of smell and taste have been educated to practise the nicest discrimination of flavour and odour, and if the vintage of a particular year differs in quality from that of its predecessor, he knows how, by a judicious blending of the old with the new, of the highly-coloured with the pallid, to arrive at that uniformity which is so indispensable."

The cellar must neither be too damp nor too dry. Any excess of dampness would rot the casks and give a musty taste to the wine; while, on the contrary, in too dry a cellar the staves of the casks would shrink and cause leakage. The cellar is usually kept somewhat dark. The openings for the admission of air and light should be provided with shutters, so that the atmosphere and temperature may be under control. The floor of the cellar should be paved or cemented, be well levelled, and cleanliness throughout should be strictly and strenuously maintained.

But the following remarks of Signor Bragato as to what a cellar ought not to be will perhaps be more instructive, and besides they contain a vast amount of information on the subject. In referring to some of the cellars he came across during his tour of inspection through one of the Victorian districts, he writes:--

"The majority of the buildings used as cellars are nothing less than wooden sheds, with galvanized iron roofs. Here the air has a free circulation day and night, and the cellerman is thus rendered powerless to control the temperature, which very often, from 100 degrees in day time, goes down to 54 degrees or less during the night. The appliances required for winemaking are all round badly preserved, and are covered with mouldiness and dust. The floor of the buildings is not paved or cemented, and it consists of earth, so that it has the power of absorbing the wine that gets spilt and becomes the source of pernicious germs, which will spread all over the cellar and in the air, to be finally deposited in the must and in the wine, causing irreparable loss in the quality of the wine. There are a few good cellars, but these, also, are badly kept and badly used.

"The casks are neglected, and the coat of tartar is scrupulously left in the cask, with the erroneous idea that it tends to preserve the wine. All the empty casks I have smelt in the cellars inspected are impregnated with bad odours, which are not detected by the majority of the owners, in consequence of having accustomed their olfactory organs to the predominant odour of mouldiness in their cellars, and so they are unable to detect if the odour of their casks is healthy or not.

"With the bad cellars which the vignerons have at their disposal, combined with the neglect of the casks and other appliances, and the little care in the preservation of the wine, it is only natural that a large quantity of the wine produced is spoiled, and condemned to the still to be converted into inferior brandy of bad taste and colour, which is often used to fortify the wines, with the result of rendering them unfit for consumption. "Amongst the wines I have tested, I found some really very good ones, presenting all the characteristics required in a fine wine. But if there are good wines, there are also very bad ones, and these, I am sorry to say, represent the bulk in every cellar I visited. Some of the wines are cloudy, sweetish, with a good deal of asperity. Others present tartaric, lactic, and acetic fermentations."

After some further comments on various other matters, the same gentleman concludes his report with the following:--

"Finally, I may say that by what I have seen I cannot help expressing the opinion that Australia is capable of producing really fine wines, to be highly appreciated in the world's markets. But to produce an appreciable wine, it is necessary that the vignerons should improve in their system of wine-making, and substitute for their sheds cellars constructed on a rational principle; and by devoting more attention to the cleanliness of the casks and other cellar appliances. A modification in the system of cultivation and pruning of the vines will also be factors in improving the quality of the wine.

"There is in this country good soil, and a climate which cannot be equalled for the successful cultivation of the vine. Capital is plentiful, and the people very enterprising; so there remains only the want of Technical Instruction, by the institution of practical schools of Viticulture, without which it is doubtful if ever its vignerons will succeed in making wines likely to be appreciated in the foreign markets."

In the same way Mr. J.A. Despeissis, of the New South Wales Department of Agriculture, also insists upon cellar cleanliness. And it would seem, indeed, that there is ample justification for his deprecatory remarks. It appears that on several occasions he has noticed fowls and pigeons roosting in the wine cellars. Now, as he pungently observes, the wine cellar was never intended for this sort of thing. Another way of putting the matter would be to point out what a mad thing it would be to use a fowl house as a cellar. Moreover, he gives minute directions for disinfecting the cellar, in order to destroy any germs or minute organisms which may be lurking in crevices or in odd corners. This is best accomplished by burning some sulphur in earthenware pots, distributed over various parts of the cellar; previously seeing that all the windows and gaps are rendered air-tight by means of bagging. The fumes should be left in the cellar--for a day or two, after which the doors are opened, and a free current of air allowed to sweeten the whole place.

Moreover, a model cellar is necessarily a very elaborate affair, considering it is the laboratory, so to speak, in which the wine is created. A model cellar would consist of the following six compartments:--

* 1. The section for the first treatment of the grape. * * 2. The fermentation department. * * 3. The section for the preparation and storing, of the new wine. * * 4. The underground cellar for the storage of the matured wine. * * 5. The bottle department. * * 6. The distillation department and for the utilization of the refuse of wine. *

The cellar of Mr. Henley, near the Ovens River, in Victoria, is very complete. It is provided with a steam lift, a steam crushing machine, and a steam pump, while there is perfect ventilation and a uniform temperature. His cellar is divided into three compartments: the fermenting house in the middle, the cellar for the new wine, and the cellar for the old wine. The building is 83 feet by 80 feet, built of brick, with double walls 9 inches thick outside and 4 inches inside, and between the walls there is 4 1/2 inches of space. The temperature on the hottest days in the summer never surpasses 80 degrees Fahrenheit; and, lastly, the floors, both of the cellars and the fermenting house, are cemented for the purpose of absolute cleanliness.

THE MAKING OF THE WINE--THE GATHERING OF THE GRAPE.

At the very beginning one of the chief matters to be looked to is the selection of the time at which the grapes should be picked. The proper period is that when the interior of the grape contains its principal components, the sugar and the acids, in the right proportions. In the warmer districts the grapes are sometimes allowed to become too ripe. In such a case there would be an excess of sugar and a deficiency of acid, and a regular fermentation would be impossible. On the other hand, it will be remembered in the course of the remarks upon pruning that I quoted Mr. Francois de Castella to show what a mistaken idea it is to pick the grapes before they are thoroughly ripe in order to produce, as it is erroneously supposed, a lighter wine. It is of the greatest consequence, therefore, to choose that particular time for gathering the grapes when they contain the respective elements in their strictly proper proportions.

On the eventful day for the picking of the grapes the weather should be fine and bright, and in the warm districts they should be picked early in the morning and late in the afternoon, so that they are not too warm. The grapes should never be taken to the fermenting house when too heated; indeed, it would be better not to crush the grapes at all than to have them in such a state. As Signor Bragato observes, if they are too warm the fermentation will start with too high a temperature in the must, and very likely the result will be the formation of lactic and acetic germs. In Algiers and other warm regions the grapes picked in the day are left outside during the night; by this means the temperature of the must is lowered.

In the picking of the grapes the greatest care should be taken to discard the mouldy, dry, and dirty grapes, and leaf insect worms should likewise be got rid of. Once the gathering of the grapes is commenced it should be concluded as quickly as possible, and therefore a sufficient number of hands must be engaged for the purpose. For instance, with the Riesling, if the grapes are left on the vines on a hot day twenty-four hours after they arrive at perfection, the wine will not be nearly so good.

THE MAKING OF THE WINE--VARYING ADDITIONS TO THE MUST.

On the arrival of the grapes at the press-house, the first thing to be determined upon is whether the stalks are to be used or not. In the case of white wines it is not customary to separate them from the grapes. A good deal, however, will depend upon different circumstances. Thus, when grapes are grown in flat, damp places, or during wet seasons, it is often advantageous to ferment the berries with part of their stems; but, on the contrary, those grapes which contain a sufficiency of tannin will not require the latter. For example, in the production of white wines at Mr. Hans Irvine's ("Great Western") vineyard in Victoria, the grapes are first crushed with the mill, the mill consisting of two grooved wooden rollers working against each other. After this the skins, together with the stalks, are placed in the wine-press. In the case of red wine, however, the grapes are separated from the stalks by means of an iron griddle, so that only the skins are employed in the formation of the wine.

The methods pursued with regard to the elimination or retention of the grape stalks vary in different parts of the Continent. The most careful vignerons remove the stalks in the case of the finest growths of Burgundy; but in the making of champagne, and also in the Rheingau, from which part come the famous Hock wines, the stalks are allowed to remain. In the Medoc districts, which produce the finest clarets, the stalks are likewise put into the fermentation vat; but this is considered to be a great mistake, since a long time elapses before the astringent taste of the wine subsides. With the far-famed Red Hermitage wine of France, too, the stalks are permitted to pass into the vat, and in the case of sherry and port, as well, the stalks all take part in the fermentation, though it is believed that better results would be obtained by their removal. But in all these old wine-producing countries of Europe the same customs have been followed from time immemorial, and they are not likely to be altered at present.

THE MAKING OF THE WINE--THE MUST ITSELF.

The must--that is, the juice expressed from the grape, but in which (juice) fermentation has not yet taken place--is a fluid of very complex composition. It is made up of a variety of ingredients, with which it is necessary to become familiar in order to follow, during the process of fermentation, its change into wine. We find, therefore, that a large part of the must consists of water; this serves to dissolve the other constituents, and to dilute them to the required extent. For instance, the sugar in the must needs to be considerably diluted for the purposes of fermentation. In too concentrated a form it actually prevents it, as we see when fruits are preserved in syrup.

Next to water, sugar is the material which exists in the largest proportions in the must; it is, however, that peculiar kind of sugar termed "glucose," which may be described as uncrystallisable sugar, and as consisting of half grape sugar and half fruit sugar. It possesses the property of being able to ferment, which cane or crystallisable sugar cannot do, unless, indeed, it first be changed into glucose. Now, it is a curious fact that although cane sugar can be transformed into glucose, yet the latter form of sugar has never, so far, been changed into cane or crystallisable sugar. As Mr. J.A. Despeissis points out, the invention of a process that would achieve this would be worth more than all the mines of New South Wales put together.

In the process of fermentation the glucose is broken up into a number of substances, which differ entirely from it; and as these different bodies are very important they deserve much attention. Under the influence of fermentation glucose undergoes a great change, of which the principal products are alcohol and carbonic acid gas. The alcohol is, of course, the one predominant feature in wine; and according to the amount of alcohol which wine contains, so it varies in strength.

In addition to these two main products of glucose by fermentation, namely, alcohol and carbonic acid gas, there are glycerine and succinic acid, as well as a lesser proportion of other derivatives, very much akin to alcohol. Of all these glycerine is by no means unimportant, as it confers a blandness or mellowness upon the wine. The succinic acid, also, is distinctive for this reason, that it is the source of that characteristic flavour in wine known as "vinosity."

Besides the water and the glucose, the must likewise contains quite an appreciable amount of those important bodies, the various acids. These consist of tartaric acid, so frequently met with all through the vegetable world; of malic acid, which is the acid almost distinctive of apples; of tannic acid or "tannin," and of other acids. These different acids play an important part in the production of wine; without them, in truth, it would be a mere admixture of spirits and water--a colourless, flavourless, and insipid product. By their assistance, however, wine is endowed with the brilliancy it possesses. And more than this, the action of the alcohol on these acids develops those exquisitely delicate ethers--the oenanthic and other ethers--which constitute, in fact, the bouquet of the wine. At the same time, it has also to be remembered that while these many acids constitute the life and soul, so to speak, of the wine, their very presence is absolutely necessary for the process of vinous fermentation. That is to say, the active agents of vinous fermentation are only enabled to work perfectly in a liquid which is somewhat acid.

There is an astringent principle, named tannin, which calls for attention in any reference to wine-making. It is almost the same body-- not quite--as the tannin obtained from galls, and so largely employed in tanning. This vine-tannin, if it may be so termed, does not exist in the juice of the grape, but in the stalk and the skin. The white wines, in which the juice is almost always freed from the skins and stalks, contain but little tannin; while, on the contrary, most red wines, in which juice, skins, and stalks are all included together in the fermenting-vat, contain a good deal. Some white wines derive their tannin from the oaken casks which hold the wine; and their colour, in consequence, subsequently deepens. Other red wines, strange to say, gradually lose their dark colour from a certain action of the tannin. So that tannin is the cause of some white wines deepening in colour, while it renders other red wines of a lighter colour. Now, tannin has the effect of preserving albuminous substances, and in this way it may be beneficial in rendering red wines more durable. But although this may be advisable in wines which are liable to turn, it is certain that excess of tannin is most undesirable. In fact, the practice of placing the stalks in the fermenting-vat is in many cases, as I have previously stated, an unnecessary proceeding.

The mineral kingdom is not unrepresented in must, and certain saline substances are found in it. Of these, the salts of potash are uniformly present, and the most important is, without doubt, the acid tartrate of potash. This is the salt so well known in commerce under the name of cream of tartar. The lees of wine contain it in considerable quantity, and it is also found as a crystalline deposit in the inside of the casks. As the alcohol begins to develop in the must this salt is precipitated, and the more so the lower the temperature. Thus it is that a light wine of low alcoholic strength, if it be markedly acid, will lose the acidity in a cool, underground cellar. And, as a matter of fact, the proper maturation of a wine is impossible without a due amount of tartar; besides this, it develops in the wine a well-defined vigour and tonicity, which improves its taste, while it also increases its alimentary qualities.

There are a few other ingredients in must, namely, the colouring matters and essential oils, and the albuminoids, or nitrogenous substances. The colouring matters and oils appear to be contained in the cells of the inner side of the skin. Of these, the purpose of the colouring matter is obvious; while the essential oils are believed to contribute to the "aroma" of the wine. The albuminoids or nitrogenous substances are of the nature of white of egg; and, when in small proportion, are necessary for the due performance of the fermentative process. But, in excess, they are a source of considerable anxiety to the vigneron, in that they are the cause of much of the wine going wrong.

THE MAKING OF WINE--FERMENTATION.

The must, as we have already seen, is the juice of the grape, which has been squeezed out by the grape-mill or from the wine-press. The murk, or pomace as it is called in America, on the contrary, is the mass of grape skins, stalks, &c., left behind in the press. A clear apprehension of these two terms is required in order that no confusion may arise. The fermenting-vat is the cask in which what is called the strong, stormy, or tumultuous fermentation takes place. The "cuvage" is the length of time the contents are left in the fermenting-vat.

The whole phenomena of fermentation are too complicated and profoundly scientific to be dealt with here. I shall do no more, therefore, than briefly refer to the behaviour of the must in the fermenting-vat. Fermentation sets in soon after the must is placed within the latter. The germs of vinous fermentation are contained in abundance in the air of the wine cellar, as well as being on the grapes themselves. M. Pasteur, who has contributed so much to a proper understanding of fermentation, has proved that the yeast fungi come from the external surface of the grapes, and are not derived from the interior. Hence it follows that the skins are to be well crushed before fermentation begins, to ensure proper action in the must.

The temperature of the must soon begins to rise, and the fermentative agencies break up its glucose into alcohol and carbonic acid gas. There is a bubbling and seething in the liquid during this action, which gradually subsides. The increase of temperature in the fermented fluid begins to abate; the skins and husks subside to the bottom of the vat; the liquid itself becomes slightly less turbid--and the first stage of wine-making is at an end.

A clearer insight into this important part of the process will perhaps be gained by noting some of the practices followed on the Continent, as regards the duration of the vattage. The length of time the various contents--whether they be the grape juice alone, or the grape juice together with the skins and stalks--remain within the fermenting-vat, varies greatly in different parts. In the Champagne country, the must is allowed to stand for twelve or eighteen hours, during which time a froth arises to the top and a sediment descends to the bottom. Without disturbing either of these, the precious liquid is carefully withdrawn into small barrels, and the fermentation is then allowed to proceed. This purification is one of the most important matters connected with the making of champagne.

The Medoc districts, in the Bordeaux territory, produce the finest of the clarets. The grapes are detached from the stalks, and subjected to pressure. The must is put into the fermenting-vat, to which is added the murk resulting from the pressing, and the stalks which were previously separated from the berries. The time necessary for vinification varies; in good years it is no longer than four or five days, and the future wine will then be at its best with regard to taste, delicacy, and softness.

In one case, that of the Red Hermitage wine of France, the grapes are unstalked and crushed before being placed in the vat. The contents of the latter are then stirred twice a day, and ultimately once a day. This is continued for about a month, and in one of the best vineyards for forty days. This long "cuvage" appears necessary from the fact that the large amount of sugar in the must is but slowly transformed into alcohol.

There is a curious incident which occurs in connection with the world-renowned wines of Burgundy, which is worth recording. As the fermentation proceeds, the murk, as in all similar fermentations, rises to the surface of the vat, and forms what is called the "hat," or CHAPEAU. The fermentation proceeds till all is ready for the wine to be drawn. At this time the "hat" is so dense that it will bear the weight of two or three men. Each of them now begins working with one foot till he gets it through the crust, and the whole CHAPEAU is eventually broken up and mixed with the wine.

But to return to our subject. As soon as the stormy or seething fermentation is over, the young wine is drawn off from the fermenting-vat into the maturing-cask, at which time it may be quite warm and turbid. In a cool cellar and with perfect quiet it gradually becomes clearer; it deposits on the bottom of the cask many of the substances it contains, and the fermentation becomes no longer visible. The time which this "slow fermentation" takes to occur will vary with the type of wine, with the nature of the must, and with the influence of the season. Speaking generally, it may be said to be from two to eight weeks after its entrance into the maturing-cask. The wine is considered to be ready for its first racking when it has become clear and transparent, and when its lees have subsided to the bottom of the cask.

In racking there is a withdrawal of the wine from the sediment which it casts down, and which is known as the lees. It is an important operation because irremediable damage is caused to wine by allowing it to remain in contact with the dregs. A knowledge of their composition is of great value, since it serves to explain their injurious influence. The lees deposited from vinous fermentation consist of mineral salts, tartaric acid, and organic matters. Of these the 'organic substances are the most to be dreaded, and for this reason, that they are very prone to rapid decomposition. They consist of yeast-cells, cells of other micro-organisms, of DEBRIS and minute particles of grape stalks and skins, and of other bodies, all readily liable to decompose. All these various materials, therefore, are continually a source of peril, for the slightest thing may start action in them, which spreads throughout the wine and simply ruins it. By removing it from such undesirable company all these risks are avoided, and the best possible qualities of the wine are afforded the opportunity to develop. In the performance of racking definite changes take place in the vine, which are assuredly important. For it must be remembered that the nearly fermented young wines contain an excess of carbonic acid gas; and this is rightly regarded as possessing great preservative properties, in that it prevents the dangerously spreading growth of the little micro-organisms and germs present in all new wine.

In the course of racking, however, a certain amount of the carbonic acid gas must be lost, and fresh oxygen is absorbed from the atmosphere. The oxygen is invaluable from the fact that it exerts a powerful chemical influence upon the wine; as a consequence fermentation is slightly renewed if there be any grape sugar remaining. At the same time the colour of the wine is also modified, and any rawness or harshness in its taste quality is enormously increased by the development of those delicate and subtle ethers which have so much to do with the flavour and bouquet of all wines.

The operation of racking, consequently, is one of great importance, as it requires to be repeated from time to time. A copious deposit of lees generally takes place after the first racking, and a second one should speedily follow. During the first year young wines are often racked off as many as three times, but with the older wines once a year, at the beginning of spring, may be sufficient. But it is precisely in matters of this kind that judgment and experience are so much needed.

Now, it has been pointed out over and over again that it is solely by a correct treatment of Australian wines in the cellar that we can hope to attain to excellence; in fact, the whole secret lies in this direction. And it is very much to be regretted, therefore, that cellar management and wine treatment have not yet been conceded their proper position, that of being the principal factors in the success of Australian wine. Amongst others, this very truth was pointed out by Mr. Pownall, to whom I have previously referred. In giving evidence before the Vegetable Products Commission of Victoria in August 1889, he observed:--"In some of the cellars I have been horrified with the amount of wine which I should describe as 'perished' and as 'perishing.' It is astounding, I can hardly express the quantity. And very often the vine-grower is so ignorant of his business that he shows one wine which is 'tart' and 'sour,' and even praises it. I find those wines are generally exceeding three years old, and I attribute it to the lack of cellar knowledge and treatment, because in the same cellar where I find large quantities of bad wine I find this year's and last year's wine good, and promising well; but if longer kept, and so treated, after a few years it will be utterly useless."

It will only be by paying attention to all the details connected with the cellarage of Australian wines that the victory will be ours. I have said so before, and now say it again, that our Australian must is quite equal to, if not superior to, any in the world. But it is from that very time that the critical stage in the making of our wines begins. It behoves our vignerons, therefore, to concentrate their energies mainly upon that vastly important period which follows onwards from the very beginning of vinification.

THE TASTING AND JUDGING OF WINES.

Of the five senses, namely, seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, and tasting, the last is by no means the least important. It is a wise provision, this sense of taste, in that it enables us to relish our food, and also to select that which is suitable at the same time. If we took no pleasure in eating we should probably cease to eat at all, and die of starvation. And if we had no taste we might eat that which was unsuitable. In illness, almost the first things that the sufferer will complain about are that he has lost all desire for his food, and that everything tastes alike to him. The true taste impressions are limited to the following, namely, bitter, sweet, sour, and salt. The best substances to mark these four varieties of taste are quinine for the bitter, honey for the sweet, vinegar for the sour, and table salt for the last. The sense of taste is closely associated with that of smell; indeed, the sense of smell has nearly all to do with the perception of flavour. There is an inseparable connection between the two senses of smell and taste, for when anosmia or loss of the sense of smell occurs, all taste, except for bitterness, sweetness, sourness, and saltness, is completely lost, so far as ideas of flavour, &c., are concerned.

Brillat-Savarin, the high-priest of gastronomy, quaintly puts it that smell and taste form only one sense, having the mouth as laboratory, with the nose for the fire-place or chimney; the one serving to taste solids, the other gases. George Dallas, too, the gifted author of THE BOOK OF THE TABLE, also expresses the association of taste and smell in an apt way. He makes reference to the fact that the other senses are not dependent on each other, but that the hearing becomes more acute in a blind man. On the contrary, taste is made for marriage, and smell is its better half. Taste loses, as he says, all its delicacy when it cannot mate with a fine olfactory nerve. The late Dr. Druitt has likewise noted that the union of smell with taste is essential for the enjoyment of wine.

From the foregoing it will be seen that when we speak of taste we refer to a complicated and extremely delicate process. There is this also to be remembered, that it is a sense which can be cultivated to a high degree; and in the wine-taster it is brought to the very pitch of excellence. Yet, notwithstanding all this, it must be a matter of every-day experience, that people will profess to an ability to judge wine when they know absolutely nothing of the various points, so to speak, to be looked for. What I mean is this, that there are many different things to be observed when a wine is tasted, and that each one requires to have proper judgment bestowed upon it. What these are I shall endeavour to speak of in due course.

Wine tasting is a fine art as seen with the COURTIERS or experts who are employed by the large houses in Bordeaux. There are exceptional qualifications required for this office, for its holders must possess a delicate and highly trained palate, and an exquisite and perfect sense of smell, while at the same time a lengthened experience and unerring discrimination in the value of the wine submitted to them are also called for. Mr. James Smith, in his prize essay, already referred to, quotes with approval the following passage from a French authority:-"The COURTAGE of wines is, then, a true science, which is acquired by long observations, by numerous tastings, extensive practice, and a correct judgment; a science which has rendered, and is daily rendering, true and important services to our vinicole department (that of the Gironde); for, by this means, intelligent classifications have given to our GRANDS CRUS a universal reputation, and have made our best wines known and appreciated throughout the civilised world. In the judging of wines, therefore, at least four essentials are necessary: two of the senses--the taste and the smell must be perfect--while great experience and special knowledge must be equally present."

Now, there is an old saying, DE GUSTIBUS NON EST DISPUTANDUM, and consequently every person has a perfect right to like what pleases him; so that in this way anyone may prefer to drink whisky, or any other form of spirits, and he is quite entitled to believe there is nothing so good for him; but, on the other hand, an habitual spirit-drinker must not claim to possess a correct judgment in estimating the qualities of a good wine; for, as a matter of fact, the daily influence of whisky on the palate is absolutely fatal to its delicacy of perception. There are none of the graceful flavours, none of the delicate ethers, none of the perfumed bouquets in whisky that belong to a wholesome wine. No, there is only the coarse spirit which benumbs the palatal nerves, and renders them incapable of picking out these vinous attributes. Moreover, it would almost seem that a person's very thoughts are controlled by his customary beverage. It is evident, indeed, that Richard Bentley, one of the greatest scholars of modern times, believed in this doctrine; for did he not make this memorable remark to one of his pupils: "Sir, if you drink ale, you will think ale"?

Is it not true, also, that with many people champagne is regarded as the highest type of wine? This is more likely to be the case with those who are beginning to realize the pleasures of life. Indeed, as it has been acutely remarked, a youngster from college, when invited to dinner, thinks himself badly treated if he does not get it. Now, it is not to be denied that champagne is, in its way, an imperial drink, and that it has a specially exhilarating effect. But, at the same time, it must be remembered that it is on the other side of the champagne stage of life that the appreciation of really great wines begins.

Take, for instance, a comparison of the wines of Bordeaux and of Burgundy. These are two distinct classes of wine, and, according to Mr. Sept. Berdmore, should be imbibed different days. That they are entirely distinct wines might only be expected, seeing that the geographical positions of the two districts are so far apart. The Bordeaux wines come from the south-western or Bay of Biscay side of France, while those of Burgundy belong to her eastern portion. It is almost universally a matter of belief that the red wines of Bordeaux should be warmed gradually--taking some hours--before they are drunk. The temperature of these wines should be as nearly as possible the temperature of the dining-room itself. The finest clarets are often utterly spoiled from the fact that this has been disregarded, and they have been brought to table without ally preparation. In the case of Burgundy, however, an opposite treatment is required, and by many connoisseurs it is considered to be best when brought up from a cool cellar shortly before use. All these are matters of considerable importance, and show that the judging of wines requires something more than a mere off-hand opinion. There are certain descriptions of the different varieties of wines, given by Thudicum and Dupre, Vizetelly and others, which are of great assistance in helping to a knowledge of the various desiderata to be looked for. Moreover, much will be gained by collecting them together, as their principal characteristics will be better remembered when they are thus contrasted with each other. It is not my wish to laud the wines of other countries to the disparagement of Australian growths, but it is my object to show clearly those desirable properties which all good wines should possess. A knowledge of these lofty standards will do more to better the quality of our Australian wines than anything I know of.

The wines of the Medoc, that district of the Gironde which produces the finest clarets, namely, Chateau Margaux, Chateau Lafitte, Chateau Latour, &c., possess distinguishing features peculiar to themselves. They have a certain slight distinctive roughness; are fine, juicy, marrowy in the mouth, and after having been in bottle some years they acquire a very beautiful bouquet. They have, moreover, this remarkable hygienic quality, that they can be drunk in large quantity without, as the French say, "fatiguing" either head or stomach. But there is another portion of the Bordeaux country, namely the GRAVES, which produces both red and white wines. The latter include those magnificent Sauternes, Chateau d'Yquem and La Tour Blanche, which take such high rank; Chateau d'Yquem, indeed, has been likened to liquid gold--liquid gold in a crystal glass--and is one of those most luscious and delicately aromatic of wines, with an exquisite bouquet and rich, delicious flavour.

As it has already been stated, Bordeaux and Burgundy are entirely different wines, and this fact must be well remembered. The wines of the latter comprise some of the most famous growths of France, and are distinguished by the suavity of their taste, their finesse, and spirituous aroma The red wines have a fine colour, a good deal of bouquet, and a delicious taste. They give tone to the stomach, and facilitate digestion. Of these red wines of Burgundy the Romanee-Conti is among the first growths, and it is renowned for its fine colour, its aroma, its delicacy, and the superb quality of its delicious taste. Clos de Vougeot is another great growth, which is slightly more alcoholic than the preceding. Chambertin, also, possesses a good deal of seve, delicacy, perfect taste, and pleasant bouquet; moreover, it has a softness which made it an especial favourite with the great Napoleon. Corton, likewise, is of high colour, corse, and, as it gets older, acquires a great deal of seve and bouquet.

The white wines of Burgundy however, must not be forgotten, for amongst them is the renowned Chablis. This, with the oysters, the squeeze of lemon juice, and the brown bread and butter, usually heralds in any large dinner. Although slightly alcoholic, it is not heady, and possesses body, delicacy, and an agreeable perfume, with that distinguishing PIERRE A FUSIL taste--that flinty flavour--which is its recognised characteristic.

Leaving the Bordeaux wines and the wines of Burgundy, it is next desirable to speak of one which belongs to the South of France. It is well known, at least by name, to most Australians, and any description of its properties, therefore, will be the more appreciated. This is the Muscat of Rivesaltes, in the department of the Oriental Pyrenees. By some it is esteemed the best liqueur wine in the world. A good sample of it possesses great finesse, a good deal of vinosity, and that wonderful muscadine bouquet which gives to it its celebrated characters.

There is another wine, coming from the valley of the Rhone, in the south-eastern portion of France, whose name is equally familiar to most Australians; this is the Red Hermitage, or, as it is perhaps more commonly known amongst us, Shiraz, wine. A genuine wine is distinguished by great richness, a lively purple colour, and a special bouquet; and it becomes, by these united qualities, the best wine of this region.

Turning to the German wines, those of the Rheingau must claim our attention. This district borders on the Rhine, and it is said that the river acts as a mirror, in reflecting the rays of the sun towards the vineyards. The Rheingau must not be confused with the district of Hochheim, which is situated on the Maine. Yet it is curious that the first syllable of the latter district (Hochheim) has furnished the monosyllabic English word Hock, under which are confused ALL the Rhine wines. Amongst the wines of the Rheingau may be enumerated Steinberg, Marcobrunner, and Johannisberg. With regard to the wines of the Rheingau, Mr. Henry Vizetelly observes: "Although the flavour and bouquet of the grand wines of the Rheingau are equally pronounced, it is exceedingly difficult to characterise them with precision. After gratifying the sense of smell with the fragrant odour which they evolve --and which is no mere evanescent essence vanishing as soon as recognised, but often a rich odour which almost scents the surrounding atmosphere--you proceed to taste the vine, and seem to sip the aroma exhaled by it. Now and then you are conscious of a refilled pungent flavour, and at other times of a slight racy sharpness, while the after-taste generally suggests more of an almond flavour than any other you can call to mind. No wines vary so much in their finer qualities as the grand growths of the Rheingau. The produce of a particular vineyard, although from the same species of grape, cultivated under precisely similar conditions, will differ materially in flavour and bouquet, not merely in bad and good years, but in vintages of equal excellence. Moreover, these wines need the most skilful cellar treatment during the long years they are maturing. All great wines, it should be remembered, ripen slowly, and cannot be 'pasturised' into perfection--that is to say, cannot be rapidly matured by heating them to a certain temperature, as ordinary wines may be."

The Hochheim vineyards are situated, as I have previously indicated, on the banks of the Maine, several miles above its confluence with the Rhine. There is one exceptionally fine Hochheim growth which comes from the vineyard of the "Dechanei," or deanery. True Hochheinner is a remarkably aromatic wine, and possesses both body and fire. Indeed, it contains as large a percentage of alcohol as the so-called noble Steinberger--the most spirituous of the Rhenish growths--with more sweetness. It consequently lacks that subdued acidulous freshness of flavour which is such a marked characteristic of the wines of the Rheingau.

Some reference to sherry and port is necessary, because they are both types of wines that are widely known, and consequently ally remarks concerning, them are of value by comparison. It would appear that with most sherry, and certainly with all port, there is an addition of alcohol to the wine. Even the wines which are sold in England under the name of "natural sherry" contain from 13.2 to 15.5 per cent. of alcohol. Beyond all question, therefore, from 1 1/2 to 3 1/2 per cent. of alcohol must have been added, for no "natural sherry" should ever contain more than 12 per cent. of alcohol. Some sherries, however, have been introduced with an alcoholicity of from 12 to 13.6 per cent., with the following, characters: The taste is freely vinous, rich, pure, mellow, and quite free from heat or the taste of added spirit. But fashion has much to do with the type of sherry in request; thus the colour has varied from time to time. In the same way, too, a taste for dry sherries arose with the Manzanilla epoch, only to be carried to excess. As with all other wines, a certain age in sherry is desirable; the ethers become developed during this period, and impart a rich flavour to it. In the course of time, however, sherry falls off so much that it is only fit for giving flavour to young wine.

In the matter of port, also, it may confidently be asserted that not a single drop is sold that does not contain a certain amount of added brandy. That is to say, all port wine, without exception, is brandied. The effect of the brandy is to keep the wine quiet; it prevents it from undergoing any fermentation; and, what is more, it keeps it from changing, no matter whether the climate be hot or cold. Messrs. Thudicum and Dupre state that a perfectly natural port has 9 per cent. of alcohol as the lowest, and 13.8 per cent. as the highest limit.

A sample of Alto Douro wine submitted to these gentlemen, although it was slightly alcoholised, yet possessed the following desirable qualities: it was fine, because it was derived from the finest and ripest Alto Douro grapes, the Verdeilho and Bastardo; it was full, owing to its great vinosity and high amount of natural alcohol, yet free from adventitious syrup; and it was pure, because free from all those faults which depreciate so many southern wines, such as the fousel flavour, or the burning taste of distilled spirit. Besides all these great qualities, it characteristically possessed the very essence of an ideal port wine flavour--without the saccharine and spirituous taste commonly found in port wine--and it had a natural smooth astringency such as pleases the palate and imparts keeping qualities.

Moreover, it was very unlike the artificial sweet and burning products commonly called port wine. It was thoroughly fermented, and contained such a minute quantity of grape sugar that the latter could not be possibly detected by the taste. It was perfectly dry, and thereby differed entirely from ordinary port wines, which contain from 2 to 6 per cent. of sugar. Its alcoholicity was certainly below all the port wines usually sold. With all these desirable qualities, therefore, it possessed high dietetic and hygienic virtues, and refreshed the system like Burgundy or Medoc wine.

It will be convenient to make reference here to two terms about which there is a great deal of confusion. It is the difference between the "aroma" and the "bouquet" of wine. Now, the Settimana Vinicola has recently well observed that although these two are usually supposed to be the same, yet they are entirely different. The aroma of a wine is altogether distinct from those agreeable and delicate odours known by the name of "bouquet." For instance, some American grapes have what is called a "foxy" smell, and the wine prepared from them has this aroma, which is perceptibly disagreeable. Aroma pre-exists in certain grapes, and during vinification will pass into the resulting wine. On the other hand, perfume, the bouquet of the French, as it has been pointed out by Professor G. Grazzi-Soncini, is the complex sensation produced simultaneously on the palate and nose, owing to the intimate connection between these two organs, and which has already been referred to. This bouquet is due to the action of the ethers, which are formed during the life of the wine. The CORRIERE DEL VILLAGIO remarks, in addition to the preceding, that there is a chemical difference between the "aroma" and the "bouquet" of wine. The former is produced chiefly by one or more carburets of hydrogen, and their oxidation derivatives. The bouquet, however, results from the admixture of aldehydes with one or more essential oils and various ethers, produced by combination of fatty and other acids with ethylic and other alcohols, and from these changes result the different ethers which constitute the bouquet of wine.

One of the most valuable books published on vine-growing and wine-making is that by the justly celebrated Dr. Jules Guyot. The greater part of one particularly important chapter is wholly taken up with the most graphic and lucid description of wine-tasting with which we are acquainted. Besides this, it contains such an amount of information on the subject, that no remarks in this connection would be complete without reference to it. For the following vivid rendering of a good deal of this very chapter I am very much indebted to my friend Dr. John Steel, of Sydney:--

"Wine put upon its trial is subjected to two jurisdictions; the one altogether belonging to the senses, the other wholly physiological. The appreciation of wine by the senses is referred to three of our organs of sense--the eye; the nasal chambers, in front and behind; and the mouth, equally at its anterior and posterior part.

"WINE JUDGED BY THE SIGHT.--Wine pleases the eye by its clearness and colour: and be it ruby, rose, amber, or white, it ought always to have perfect clearness and freshness of colour. Neither of these latter tones will be out of harmony in a really good wine, even in extreme old age. If you will not take upon yourself to decide whether a wine is good when it is attractive to the sight, you can always say that it is not good or at least that it is not in the best condition, when its transparency and shades of colour are questionable. Freshness of colour and clearness are good signs. Though they are not to be regarded as qualities, yet any appearance to the contrary betokens real defects in the wine.

"WINE JUDGED BY THE SENSE OF SMELL; THE TWO ODOURS OF WINE.--Wine reveals itself by two sorts of odours (the aroma and the bouquet) to the outer organ of smell--that is to say, when that sense is exercised by inhaling (or sniffing) the wine. The first, or aroma, is the general and common odour peculiar to most wines. It is always strongest when the wine is newest, but it always characterises good wine, however old it may be. This first odour seems to be due to the volatilization of the spirit, which holds in solution an essential oil, more or less volatile, more or less powerful, and more or less characteristic of each kind of wine. This aroma is a sign of real quality in the wine, and is generally very strong and very noticeable during the first years; it becomes concentrated, refined, and attenuated as the wine ages. The second kind of odour the bouquet, on the contrary, is developed with age, and would appear to be owing to the reaction of vinous acids on the spirit, which gives rise to certain ethereal combinations.

"WINES ARE NOT MADE CHIEFLY TO PLEASE THE SENSES OF SIGHT AND SMELL-- Aroma, like colour, is a favourable or unfavourable sign, agreeable or disagreeable. Yet before everything wine is a nourishing beverage. It is a very good thing that sight and smell should be gratified in this way, but it would be puerile and ridiculous to exalt beyond measure the importance of these organs of sense; and to pretend that the superiority of wine rests almost exclusively on the pleasurable impressions which are derived therefrom. I have seen many hosts bother their guests with vexatious insistence to look at, hold up to the light, sniff their wine, even the empty glasses, almost throughout the whole duration of a banquet--at the risk of making them well nigh die of thirst. The true amateur, the wine-taster, knows perfectly well how to look at and how to smell his wine; but he knows full well also that these two preliminaries ought to be immediately followed by the taking of the fluid into the front part of the mouth. Colour and smell are merely two notes introductory to a gastronomic theme; if they are only by themselves they lose their relative value, and the theme is not properly understood.