186 
KING CHASSELAS. 
[Nature and Art, June 1, 18G7. 
each side, as far as the eye could reach, with orchards, and 
the ground was literally so covered with apples and pears, 
that fruit seemed to be considered worthless, a notion 
which was not, however, to be long entertained in face of 
the fact that a small army of road makers was engaged in 
making' still firmer and neater the already firm, hard, well- 
kept road of “ By-the-Bye.” When we had wandered and 
wandered to our heart’s content upon this fruity thorough- 
fare, thinking- that perhaps the small attendance of birds in 
the forest of Fontainebleau might be accounted for by the 
superior attractions of luxuriant By-the-Bye, we began to 
cast our eyes around for the “towers” of Rosa Bonheur’s 
castle which we knew to be near at hand. The search was 
a short one, for just as we were emerging from this great 
orchard street, a tall tower — a real tower, as we had been 
told and did not believe, — rose before us, and there, on one 
of its faces, we saw a clock dial about the size of that of the 
Horseguards, and the initials in solid brick, of the famous 
painter of the Horse-fair, Chevaliere of the Legion of 
Honour. The tower, which has quite a feudal air, is tacked 
on to a comfortable old-fashioned house, and the large 
studio windows — the Great Northern Lights as they may 
be called — together with the apparent extent of the grounds 
and out-houses, bear witness to the tastes and pursuits of 
the famous Cli&telaine. With a pleasant feeling, in which 
we hope no envy mingled, that talent sometimes met its re- 
ward, we gave a hearty (mental) cheer for Rosa Bonheur — - 
a Salve Rosa — and proceeded on our way. By one of those 
unaccountable slips we had almost, from old association, 
written Salvator Rosa; but we saw the mistake in time, and 
thus escaped a terrible solecism. 
Where By ends, we never quite made out, but there, 
wherever it is, Thomery begins — and Thomery is just as 
fruity as By, although far more “ wally ” and less orchard 
like. Along the highroad both of By and Thomery, and in 
every street of both, there is not a bit of wall open to 
Phcebus’s bright glances that is not laden with fruit. Here 
no shops are visible, only walls pierced with doors and 
windows, and covered with lattices and fruit ; the road-side 
inn is a small vineyard ; the tailor is set in a square frame 
surrounded with leaves and clusters, and we saw the black- 
smith hammering with might and main in a parlour — we can 
call it nothing else — whose wall was brilliantly white 
beneath a treasure of verdure and fruit. The walls and 
lattices are unlike any other fruit- walls and lattices we have 
seen elsewhere : it is evident that the former are lime- 
washed, and the latter painted every year, in order to 
destroy those smaller creatures which love fruit as well as 
we do, and rudely, though perhaps sensibly, generally help 
themselves first. Among the fruits are conspicuous those 
magnificent pears which are to be seen in the Palais Royal, 
somewhat in shape and size like legs of Welsh mutton, with 
others of more modest bulk and even more tempting ap- 
pearance. As corpulence tends towards the earth, and 
pears are not persistent in their attachments, shelves or 
slight frames, filled, in with wire or net work, are placed 
just beneath the lowest branches to break their fall ; as we 
passed we saw several ripe monsters reclining calmly in the 
splinter netting thus spread out to catch them. 
But at Thomery the vine assumes the supremacy, and 
even the most luscious, melting pear must hide his diminished 
head in presence of that fruit which Anacreon so loved, but 
which so cruelly requited the poet’s affection and sadly re- 
warded his mellifluous praises, by sticking in his throat. 
Almost every yard of ground at Thomery is covered with 
rows of walls or espaliers, and there it was that we found 
King Chasselas of Fontainebleau hanging in all his glory. 
Chasselas is the name of those magnificent grapes first 
grown at or near Fontainebleau ; and now at Thomery, its 
little dependency By, and a village called Champagne on the 
opposite side of the Seine. The espaliers are only about 
three feet, and the walls about six feet high, and the latter 
are so placed that the sun shines upon one of their faces 
from the time of its rising till about one o’clock in the day ; 
and the other side is always bare, for no parasite may 
diminish King Chasselas’ s means of subsistence. The top 
of the wall is covered with a slight overhanging roof, but 
another mode of protection in the shape of a hanging shelf 
of straw or wood is also in use. The grapes grow from 
very near the ground to the top of the wall, and the vines 
are so carefully trained, trimmed, and tended that at a 
distance the walls have almost the appearance of those 
trellice and grape paper hangings which, under certain 
favourable conditions, may help even the occupant of a 
garret to fancy himself in the country. But this nearly 
geometric arrangement is saved from monotony by the 
endless variety of nature, for, even if form be brought 
under absolute rule, colour and the play of light are happily 
still free. Even the walls in the public roads where the 
aspect is good are covered with delicious fruit, and the vines 
are only protected by a slight fence of laths or wire, which 
almost any arm could easily reach over ; and in the streets 
the luscious crop seems in danger from every passer by, 
but King Chasselas is evidently respected in tins his chosen 
dominion. 
While the grapes are hanging on the wall, they are con- 
stantly supervised, and women may be seen in all directions 
busily removing with a small pair of scissors all, the 
damaged berries they can find, and, when the bunches are 
ripe, they are plucked with the greatest care. They are not 
placed in masses, but gathered into neat, small, white 
baskets that do not hold more than two pounds each, or 
thereabouts, and they are then carried home as carefully 
as delicate porcelain. The method of conveying them is 
curious ; a man carries on his back a light wooden frame, 
consisting of two sides and four shelves open behind, and 
having each only a narrow lath towards the porter’s back 
to prevent the baskets from slipping through ; each shelf 
holds four of the baskets and the frame, consequently, six- 
teen in all. When they reach the home of the dealer, each 
bunch is again examined — being held by the stalk while any 
bad grains that remain are removed with the scissors — 
and the grapes thus prepared for sale are laid out in trays on 
fern leaves to dry in the sun, before being packed for 
market. The day of our visit was the first on which one 
of the growers had sent any grapes to market, and the price 
of the commonest description was four sous (less than two 
pence) for a French pound, which is one tenth heavier than 
the English. The finest kinds, with berries as large as 
damsons, whether white or red, were selling on that day at 
fifteen sous a pound, but the price often reaches as high as 
twenty, and even twenty-five sous. The damaged grapes 
are, of course, sent to the press, but it need scarcely be 
stated that the district is not more famous for its wine 
than is the country that produces Champagne or Chambertin 
for dessert grapes ; one object of cultivation is sufficient for 
the attention of each district. The grapes are sent to the 
Fontainebleau and Paris markets in small baskets or boxes, 
these again being packed in large open sided crates or cradles, 
and a walk of half-an-liour through a bit of the forest of 
Fontainebleau brings one to the Thomery Station, a little 
rural establishment which seems to have been set up for 
the express purpose of the despatch of full packages of 
grapes, and the return of the empty ones. A few passengers 
take or quit the rail there, but it is evident from the manner 
of the officials that they regard them as interlopers or 
strays. 
The Anacreontic agriculturists are far from being in good 
spirits this year, and when we referred to the inundation 
which had occurred only a day or two before, and which 
had left its marks visibly imprinted on the walls of the 
lower parts of the neighbourhood, one of the good women 
who was busy giving the Chasselas their last toilet, said 
with a heavy sigh, “ Ah! Monsieur, it has been indeed a terrible 
season for us ; the rain nearly washed the fruit off the vines, 
and then to complete the mischief, the river rose upon us, 
and some of the gra/pes were actually under water ! ” It is 
impossible to magnify the terrible importance of this com- 
plaint, or the melancholy tone in which it was uttered. 
King Chasselas under water ! Of what import in com- 
parison to the good people of Thomery, was the washing 
away of hay-stacks, and corn sheaves, and the ruin of green 
crops. They grow no corn, make no hay, and raise no 
mangold-wurzel : the Chasselas are to them meat, drink, 
and clothing, and it is not in human nature to avoid being 
rather more interested in number one than in number two 
