For the wineries of Bordeaux, the 18th century was a tumultuous period. Marked by industrial development, inheritance disputes and a mix of truth and fiction, it was also the era when Château Lafite Rothschild and Château L’Évangile would step out of the shadows and into the public eye.
Did the philosophers of the Enlightenment drink Bordeaux wines? The question is an intriguing one. Since the Middle Ages, the region’s winemakers had primarily traded with the English. If Pauillac wines, for instance, were cherished across the Channel, they were often overlooked at home in France.
By the mid-18th century, however, the continental tides would begin to turn in Lafite’s favour. Under the ownership of the Barons of Ségur—one of France’s most prominent families—technological advances would optimise winemaking methods and accelerate the estate’s expansion. In 1760, the vintage would enjoy an official introduction at the Court of Versailles, thanks to the esteemed Duc de Richelieu. Legend has it that King Louis XV himself was captivated by the wine, leading the Duke to be dubbed the ‘Prince of the Vine’. Whether entirely true or not, one fact remains: through word of mouth, Château Lafite Rothschild would pass from the lips of royalty to Parisian salons, and from hand to hand thereafter. A 1776 writ on the state of the vineyard illustrates Lafite’s popularity, regularly hosting both associates and curious citizens ‘attracted by the landmark’s reputation’.
The latter half of the century, however, would prove to be less kind. The Ségur family had been forced to sell the estate, and its new owners quickly found themselves embroiled in legal battles. One of them eventually met their fate at the guillotine—though in an incident unrelated to the winery. The Château was then acquired by the Rothschild family in 1868.
But the question remains of where the Enlightenment stood in all this. Today, we have some answers thanks to historian Laurent Chavier and his discovery of a document dating back to 1788. In it, the Bordeaux Chamber of Commerce attests to having sent, ‘in thanks’, a barrel of Lafite to a certain Father André Morellet. Having penned five articles in Diderot and D’Alembert’s famous Encyclopédie and defended, with Voltaire, religious tolerance, he was one of the period’s most illustrious intellectual figures. Fiat Lux!
The 18th century would be an equally decisive one for Château L’Évangile. Acquired by the Léglise family from the Pipaud sisters in 1719, the vineyard continued to expand year after year. As cultivation diversified and a culture grew around winemaking itself, the region’s oenological dark ages became a thing of the past.
‘It was a mixed agricultural zone,’ explains oenologist Neal Martin, author of the formidable Pomerol. ‘In 1741, one third of its surface area was occupied by rudimentary vines.’ In 1773, Jeanne Léglise was married to Jean Feuilhade, son of the Mayor of Libourne and a pioneer in the selection of noble varieties of the Pomerol terroir. The vintage would improve over time, as in the Médoc. Freshly widowed in 1790, Jeanne would just as quickly find herself in litigation with her sisters-in-law for possession of the estate. She would succeed in maintaining the lands most favourable for cultivation, resting along the strip of gravelly soil that was the property’s best-kept secret. Resting on the path of the pilgrims of Santiago de Compostella, the vintage would be baptised the ‘Domaine de L’Évangile’, licensed in 1798. Referenced in Cocks & Féret’s 1868 second edition, Château L’Évangile is recognised as a ‘Premier Cru of Haut-Pomerol’. And the rest, as fate would have it, is history.
On August 4, 1789, France was plunged into chaos. In the wake of the storming of the Bastille, palaces were set alight throughout the kingdom. It was in this setting that a handful of nobles opted to align themselves with representatives of the Estates of the Realm in inaugurating one of the Revolution’s most important episodes, and its culmination in the abolition of feudalism in France. Before the evening’s buzz would take the National Assembly by storm, legend has it that the Duke of Aiguillon — a cousin of the Richelieu family — would host a grand banquet for the members of the French nobility. Was Lafite served that evening? We cannot say for certain, as the night’s negotiations remain shrouded in mystery. But what can be said with certainty — and in the company of great historians — is that the wine that flowed that night had a hand in national harmony.
A Family History
Jérôme Clémenceau is the machinery supervisor at Lafite, and will be the last of his family to work for DBR Lafite. Conversation with Saskia de Rothschild.
How did a Louis XV privateer come to give his name to one of Pauillac's greatest wines? Historian Laurent Chavier discovers an answer in the Lafite archives.
A FICTION OF THE FIRST DAY OF BARON JAMES DE ROTHSCHILD IN PAUILLAC
On September 7, 1868, Le Constitutionnel wrote: “Baron James de Rothschild has left Paris for Château Laffitte, Médoc, which he has just acquired.” After that? We asked the novelist and poet Bernard Chambaz to slip into the shoes – and mind – of the Baron.