fixed at too low a figure, or whether the
wine-merchants, disliking to be watched and
hindered in the performance of their trade
manipulations, prefer their private magazins
at Bercy, the Entrepôt brings in to the
city of Paris no more than three hundred
thousand francs clear a year, that is, about
one per cent for the capital employed. That
Jean Raisin is somewhere made the subject
of certain mystic rites which are scrupulously
screened from public observation may be proved
by the simple rules of addition and subtraction.

The wine-trade of Paris amounts to two
million two hundred thousand hectolitres;
four hundred thousand are consumed in the
banlieue, outside the barrière, and seven
hundred thousand are sent away, to supply
the northern departments. What then
becomes of the one million one hundred
thousand which are left at Paris? It is made
into one million four hundred thousand
hectolitres! It may be calculated from the price
at the vineyard, the carriage, the taxes, and
other etceteras, that unadulterated wine, of
however inferior a quality, cannot be sold in
Paris for less than half a franc, or fifty
centimes, the litre. Now, for considerable
quantities retailed in cabarets, the price is as low
as forty centimes. The equilibrium is
re-established by clandestine and fraudulent
manufacture. On ordinary common wines
it is practised to the extent of increasing them
on the average as much as three-tenths.
Various sweet ingredients are fermented in
water. A farmer travelling from Orleans in
the same railway carriage with myself, showed
me without the slightest hesitation, or
concealment, a sample of dried pears which he
was taking to Paris to sell to the Bercy
wine-brewers. Very inferior raisins, dried fruits
in general, and coarse brown sugar, enter into
the magic broth. To complete the charm,
an addition is made of some high-coloured
wine from the south, a little alcohol, and a
dash of vinegar and tartaric acid. Such
preparations as these are harmless enough;
they become grateful to the palate that is
habituated to them; and certain adroit
manipulators succeed in producing a beverage
which attains considerable reputation
amongst a wide circle of amateurs.
Certainly the so-called petit Macon you get at
Paris is a most agreeable drink, when good
of its kind. At respectable restaurants,
drinking it from a sealed bottle, you may
reckon with tolerable safety on its genuineness.
In wine shops, where wine is drunk
from the cask, its purity is not so certain. The
great test is, that manufactured and even light
wines will not keep; they must be consumed,
like a glass of soda water, as soon as they
are ready for the lip. It is said that the
lamented Fum the Fourth had a bin of choice
wine which he would allow no one to taste,
except on special occasions when he chose to
call for it himself. But a king, however low
he may descend, can hardly go down the
cellar-steps with a bunch of keys in one hand
and a tallow candle in the other, to decant
his own favourite port and sherry. One
morning, his Majesty decided that the evening's
feast should be graced by the appearance
of some of the treasured nectar. Of
course, the underlings had drunk it all
themselves, except a single bottle, which they had
the marvellous modesty to leave. What
was to be done? A panting cupbearer was
sent with the final remnant to procure from
a confidential purveyor to the palace
something as nearly like it as possible. "You
shall have it by dinner-time," said the friend
in need; "and by letting me know any
morning, you may have more to any extent
you want. But," said the benevolent wizard,
in tones of warning—"but, remember, it
must be all consumed the same night. It will
not keep till next day."

I hope the impromptu wine-maker was
duly careful of the royal health. But in
Paris there are said to be a number of
cabaretiers, who, from the lees of wine mixed
with a decoction of prunes doctored with
logwood, sugar of lead, sugar, and eau-de-vie,
metamorphose wholesome fountain-water
into an infamous potion, which they
shamelessly sell as the juice of the grape. The
French Encyclopédie, in its article "Vin,"
gives a large number of serviceable receipts,
which may or may not have been tested at
Bercy. If effectual, their value is beyond
all price. An elixir to improve instantly
the most common wine; A mode of giving
to the wine of the worst soil the best quality
and the most agreeable taste; A mode of
giving to ordinary wines the flavour of
Malmsey, Muscat, Alicant, and sherry; The
manner of knowing whether there be water
in the wine; The means of restoring wine
that is changed; Remarks on bottles which
spoil the wine; and, The method of improving
and clarifying all sorts of wines, whether
new or old; would alone be quite sufficient
to make the fortune of any man who could
scrape a hundred francs together, and with
that immense capital start as Parisian
wine-merchant. The particulars of these
prescriptions are unnecessary for the reader,
especially, seeing that I have given him the
reference; but I cannot resist transferring
for his edification, from L'Editeur, an Oran
(Algerian) newspaper for the eighth of
November last, an advertisement, giving real
names relative to the Liqueur Trasforest, of
Bourdeaux:—

"This precious composition, very
advantageously known for a long time past, and
recently brought to perfection by its author,
gives to wine of the most inferior crûs a
delicious richness, which is easily confounded
with the true richness of the Médoc;
consequently, it is well appreciated by connoisseurs,
who give it the preference over all
preparations of this nature. Messieurs the
proprietors, merchants, and consumers, who