A Gift From A Steamship, or, Why We Can Still Get Good Wine From Europe

The southern Rhone Valley in 1866 France was a wine maker’s heaven. A warm Mediterranean climate offered warm winters and plenty of sunshine, with just enough rain to keep the vines happy. Heaven, that is, until death struck. 13 acres of vines mysteriously died, without leaving a suicide note or cause-of-death notice or anything. In the middle of a good weather year, the leaves shriveled up, the grapes turned into bitter raisins, and the whole vine died quickly.

Death spread quickly, extending out in all directions from the original field. The mysterious disease killed off large swaths of vinyards who had withstood pests and bad weather for hundreds of years already, only to be laid low by the newcomer. By July 1868 winemakers were so worried that a special council was appointed to determine the cause of all this death.

image“There was no rot… but suddenly under the magnifying lens of the instrument appeared an insect, a plant louse of yellowish color, tight on the wood, sucking the sap,” wrote Jules-Émile Planchon, a professor of botany and pharmacy at the nearby university in Montpellier and one of the council members. “It is not one, it is not ten, but hundreds, thousands of lice… They are everywhere.” A suspect had been found.

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