The Human Connection

The Great French Wine Blight was not merely a national crisis, nor even a continental one—it was, and (to an extent) still is a global issue. After all, its origins are global in scope. The grape phylloxera is not native to Europe, nor is it harmful to the grape vines of its home: the Mississippi Valley region of North America [10.] Yes, it is still a pest, attaching itself to the leaves of North American grape varieties, but this form of infestation does not kill the plant. It was not until phylloxera was introduced to Europe that it became a truly destructive menace. This was only made possible by globalization and the rapidly progressing industrial technology of the mid-19th Century. Specifically, steamships made overseas travel faster, which entailed a greater chance of organisms surviving—phylloxera, unfortunately, being one of them. It is unclear what exact voyage (or voyages) brought the aphid across the Atlantic, and like much of history, it is a question that will likely never be answered.

Above: A mid to late-19th Century photograph of West India Dock, London.

Admittedly, whether the blight even began in France is ambiguous (going by online research alone) as some sources claim England was actually hit first. To be frank, oftentimes such claims seem to come from “less than academic” sources. For example, "TheLiquorStore.com" states that fault lay at the hands of 1850s English botanists, who, while collecting American vine specimens, accidentally brought the phylloxera back with them [11.] Something like this does ring true to an extent, and being the simplest answer, it may very well be. Still, there is no source provided, and a cursory glance at the website will speak for its historical veracity. And yet, clearly, this idea must have come from somewhere. Whether its origin lies in a primary document or some fanciful whim, it remains a conception (or misconception) that is floating out there on the internet. The point is: history is not as cut and dry as many often like to believe, and just because a particular source (reputable as it may be) makes a claim, does not make it true. “History” as it is commonly known is really only a state of inquiry, a compiling and analysis of countless (other times scarce) sources that are all too often unclear, contradictory, or downright questionable. (The internet especially has made history more accessible, while also considerably polluting it with misinformation.) This applies to the blight, and the rest of humanity’s story as well.

Above: A photograph of an 1880s French Northern Railway locomotive.

History, and its vagueness, are all over the tale of the blight. For one, historians are not entirely sure of the exact genus—yes, grape phylloxera is the most likely candidate, but there is still debate. Then there are the aforementioned questions of which voyage or what country it first hit. Even the argument that the advent of steamships facilitated the spread of phylloxera is simply that—an argument, a possible explanation. Nonetheless, say that steamships’ speed over sailships was the cause. This brings in the topic of technology development over the ages. The Industrial Revolution had roughly begun in England during the mid to late-18th Century, which brought about countless new machines and techniques that improved efficiency and increased economic productivity. This also entailed an increase in global trade, though that had been occurring for centuries already. Naturally, this increase in speed applied not only to transcontinental trade, but to intercontinental trade as well. Thus, phylloxera outbreaks were not isolated, and only continued to spread thanks to the exchange of infested vines, equipment, and other goods. (Although as discussed earlier, Australia’s government managed to mitigate damage by ceasing such transfers.)

Above: Supposedly, an illustration of a Phylloxera conference, complete with projector, that took place during an 1874 Paris exhibition.

Additionally, even after phylloxera were discovered on the roots of dying vines, not everyone agreed that this bug was actually causing the blight. That is, due to still-developing and differing models of disease, some people believed that the aphid’s presence was merely a byproduct of the dying plant. The “true disease” was yet to be discovered then. In general (and quite unsurprisingly), there was a lot of confusion surrounding the blight at the time. Entomologists worked to identify the insect and unravel its strange life cycle, dubbing it Rhizaphis vastatrix initially [12.] (It would undergo several name changes before the end.) Vintners, desperate for a solution, tried everything to no avail. Some used chemicals, some let their poultry roam free, so as to eat the insect, and others placed toads under each vine, in hopes that they would “draw out the poison” [13.] As stated in previous sections, the only functional solution discovered was to graft vines to resistant roots. This caused some controversy, especially in Burgundy, where it had been forbidden to graft prior to the outbreak. Hostilities were so bad that, at one Meursault vineyard in 1878, the army had to be sent in to settle things [14.] Even now, there is some controversy over the practice of grafting. It is generally accepted that it does not alter a wine’s flavor profile, but some still insist otherwise. In the end, it is thanks to the field of entomology, alongside crafty vintners, that the wine industry was not completely destroyed.