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第4章

the silverado squatters-第4章

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sunny terraces of France; and Bordeaux is no more; and the 

Rhone a mere Arabia Petraea。  Chateau Neuf is dead; and I 

have never tasted it; Hermitage … a hermitage indeed from all 

life's sorrows … lies expiring by the river。  And in the 

place of these imperial elixirs; beautiful to every sense; 

gem…hued; flower…scented; dream…compellers:… behold upon the 

quays at Cette the chemicals arrayed; behold the analyst at 

Marseilles; raising hands in obsecration; attesting god 

Lyoeus; and the vats staved in; and the dishonest wines 

poured forth among the sea。  It is not Pan only; Bacchus; 

too; is dead。



If wine is to withdraw its most poetic countenance; the sun 

of the white dinner…cloth; a deity to be invoked by two or 

three; all fervent; hushing their talk; degusting tenderly; 

and storing reminiscences … for a bottle of good wine; like a 

good act; shines ever in the retrospect … if wine is to 

desert us; go thy ways; old Jack!  Now we begin to have 

compunctions; and look back at the brave bottles squandered 

upon dinner…parties; where the guests drank grossly; 

discussing politics the while; and even the schoolboy 〃took 

his whack;〃 like liquorice water。  And at the same time; we 

look timidly forward; with a spark of hope; to where the new 

lands; already weary of producing gold; begin to green with 

vineyards。  A nice point in human history falls to be decided 

by Californian and Australian wines。



Wine in California is still in the experimental stage; and 

when you taste a vintage; grave economical questions are 

involved。  The beginning of vine…planting is like the 

beginning of mining for the precious metals:  the wine…grower 

also 〃Prospects。〃 One corner of land after another is tried 

with one kind of grape after another。  This is a failure; 

that is better; a third best。  So; bit by bit; they grope 

about for their Clos Vougeot and Lafite。  Those lodes and 

pockets of earth; more precious than the precious ores; that 

yield inimitable fragrance and soft fire; those virtuous 

Bonanzas; where the soil has sublimated under sun and stars 

to something finer; and the wine is bottled poetry:  these 

still lie undiscovered; chaparral conceals; thicket embowers 

them; the miner chips the rock and wanders farther; and the 

grizzly muses undisturbed。  But there they bide their hour; 

awaiting their Columbus; and nature nurses and prepares them。  

The smack of Californian earth shall linger on the palate of 

your grandson。



Meanwhile the wine is merely a good wine; the best that I 

have tasted better than a Beaujolais; and not unlike。  But 

the trade is poor; it lives from hand to mouth; putting its 

all into experiments; and forced to sell its vintages。  To 

find one properly matured; and bearing its own name; is to be 

fortune's favourite。



Bearing its own name; I say; and dwell upon the innuendo。



〃You want to know why California wine is not drunk in the 

States?〃 a San Francisco wine merchant said to me; after he 

had shown me through his premises。  〃Well; here's the 

reason。〃



And opening a large cupboard; fitted with many little 

drawers; he proceeded to shower me all over with a great 

variety of gorgeously tinted labels; blue; red; or yellow; 

stamped with crown or coronet; and hailing from such a 

profusion of CLOS and CHATEAUX; that a single department 

could scarce have furnished forth the names。  But it was 

strange that all looked unfamiliar。



〃Chateau X…?〃 said I。  〃I never heard of that。〃



〃I dare say not;〃 said he。  〃I had been reading one of X…'s 

novels。〃



They were all castles in Spain!  But that sure enough is the 

reason why California wine is not drunk in the States。



Napa valley has been long a seat of the wine…growing 

industry。  It did not here begin; as it does too often; in 

the low valley lands along the river; but took at once to the 

rough foot…hills; where alone it can expect to prosper。  A 

basking inclination; and stones; to be a reservoir of the 

day's heat; seem necessary to the soil for wine; the 

grossness of the earth must be evaporated; its marrow daily 

melted and refined for ages; until at length these clods that 

break below our footing; and to the eye appear but common 

earth; are truly and to the perceiving mind; a masterpiece of 

nature。  The dust of Richebourg; which the wind carries away; 

what an apotheosis of the dust!  Not man himself can seem a 

stranger child of that brown; friable powder; than the blood 

and sun in that old flask behind the faggots。



A Californian vineyard; one of man's outposts in the 

wilderness; has features of its own。  There is nothing here 

to remind you of the Rhine or Rhone; of the low COTE D'OR; or 

the infamous and scabby deserts of Champagne; but all is 

green; solitary; covert。  We visited two of them; Mr。 

Schram's and Mr。 M'Eckron's; sharing the same glen。



Some way down the valley below Calistoga; we turned sharply 

to the south and plunged into the thick of the wood。  A rude 

trail rapidly mounting; a little stream tinkling by on the 

one hand; big enough perhaps after the rains; but already 

yielding up its life; overhead and on all sides a bower of 

green and tangled thicket; still fragrant and still flower…

bespangled by the early season; where thimble…berry played 

the part of our English hawthorn; and the buck…eyes were 

putting forth their twisted horns of blossom:  through all 

this; we struggled toughly upwards; canted to and fro by the 

roughness of the trail; and continually switched across the 

face by sprays of leaf or blossom。  The last is no great 

inconvenience at home; but here in California it is a matter 

of some moment。  For in all woods and by every wayside there 

prospers an abominable shrub or weed; called poison…oak; 

whose very neighbourhood is venomous to some; and whose 

actual touch is avoided by the most impervious。



The two houses; with their vineyards; stood each in a green 

niche of its own in this steep and narrow forest dell。  

Though they were so near; there was already a good difference 

in level; and Mr。 M'Eckron's head must be a long way under 

the feet of Mr。 Schram。  No more had been cleared than was 

necessary for cultivation; close around each oasis ran the 

tangled wood; the glen enfolds them; there they lie basking 

in sun and silence; concealed from all but the clouds and the 

mountain birds。



Mr。 M'Eckron's is a bachelor establishment; a little bit of a 

wooden house; a small cellar hard by in the hillside; and a 

patch of vines planted and tended single…handed by himself。  

He had but recently began; his vines were young; his business 

young also; but I thought he had the look of the man who 

succeeds。  He hailed from Greenock:  he remembered his father 

putting him inside Mons Meg; and that touched me home; and we 

exchanged a word or two of Scotch; which pleased me more than 

you would fancy。



Mr。 Schram's; on the other hand; is the oldest vineyard in 

the valley; eighteen years old; I think; yet he began a 

penniless barber; and even after he had broken ground up here 

with his black malvoisies; continued for long to tramp the 

valley with his razor。  Now; his place is the picture of 

prosperity:  stuffed birds in the verandah; cellars far dug 

into the hillside; and resting on pillars like a bandit's 

cave:… all trimness; varnish; flowers; and sunshine; among 

the tangled wildwood。  Stout; smiling Mrs。 Schram; who has 

been to Europe and apparently all about the States for 

pleasure; entertained Fanny in the verandah; while I was 

tasting wines in the cellar。  To Mr。 Schram this was a solemn 

office; his serious gusto warmed my heart; prosperity had not 

yet wholly banished a certain neophite and girlish 

trepidation; and he followed every sip and read my face with 

proud anxiety。  I tasted all。  I tasted every variety and 

shade of Schramberger; r

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