World War, 1914-1918 -- France -- Alsace; World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
We had to go to the very end of the shining valley before beginning the
ascent to the crests, passing Wesserling, situated so charmingly on its
eminence in the ancient moraine, commanding the valley from both ways.
Once upon a time the Château of Wesserling belonged to Prince Löwenstein,
Abbot of Murbach, the history of the great Abbey of Murbach being closely
bound up with that of these valleys, for Charlemagne gave to the first
abbot, St.-Pyrmin, the whole country of the Thur, with St.-Amarin and
Thann and all the lesser towns. In the eighteenth century the Abbey was
converted into a noble Chapter with residence, and a big new church, at
Guebwiller, now in German hands. But the Chapter had a short life there,
and probably not a gay one, and during the Revolution it was suppressed.
The vineyards round about have been renowned since time immemorial, and
on Guebwiller’s southern slopes there is a wine celebrated even among
the most celebrated of Alsace, which enlivens without making noisy, and
inspires without depressing (evidently what the juice of the grape was
meant to do when the vine grew on the first hillsides of the world). It
is called “_Kitterle brisemollets_” (“Kitterle break your calves”), those
whom it delights evidently not journeying far, except in fancy.
A great book could be written about the wines of Alsace, the soft,
gleaming, light-colored wines of this land of sunny slopes, which may
become even as a Mecca for pilgrims arriving “dry” from over the seas. In
fact, quite a delightful perspective opens itself out.
From Wolxheim comes a wine, once the favorite of Napoleon, which was
always found on the imperial table. There are the wines of Rouffach,
“home town” of the husband of Madame Sans-Gêne; of Kaisersberg, known
fashionably and pertinently as “Montlibre” for a short space during the
Revolution, and by the “Rang” of Thann; Alsatians once swore, “_Que
le Rang te heurte!_” (“May the Rang strike you!”) There is, too, an
exceptional, ancient, red vintage called “_Sang des Turcs_,” whose name
recalls the twilight days of Turkish invasions and Soliman the Great.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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