# Through a Glass Lightly/Glasses

GLASSES
GLASSES
Now, of glasses there be three kinds: the tinted or coloured, the plain, and that which is known generally as cut; and there be some wines that will shine with all, there be some that pair well with two, others there be that will mate with one alone. And ​first there is the bastard [[/../Sherry|Sherry]], that filius nullius, yet boon companion of all. Him sprung from unknown and unpedigreed parents, yet none the less apt to form a line of his own, you shall drink indifferently from glasses plain and glasses cut. His amber complexion sparkles and dazzles through the myriad facets of the one sort: so let the sport he makes the eye be held to compensate for any trifling deterioration of palate. But for all that, he flows the kindliest from a plain, clear glass, conical-shaped, lipped over at the rim, so that his oleaginous and flavorous qualities may linger a little on the lips ere he leave his temporary haven for a more blessed embarkation. And this, too, be it said, though the reverted apex is a source of pain and tribulation to housewives and to ​conscientious butlers, for no finger will stretch to its nethermost deeps, and nothing short of a slate-pencil wrapped in a dishcloth will ever clean its uttermost confines. For Hock, that fount of the affinities, no glass of English disposition fits him; and you must seek his true vehicle in those regions which of old time bounded Gaul and Germania, for neither in colour nor in shape shall you easily match them. But see that the stems of them be hollow and broad, and take heed that the hue of them be amber as in harmony with the genial creature they enclose, let the amateurs of green asseverate never so wisely, for thus do you impart the right ambrosial tinge. The clients of Ter Borch, Metsu, Hals, even Teniers in his gentler moods, inclined to a long and pointed figure; but it was a concession to pictorial ​effect, the stumpier vessels lending themselves less readily to the characteristics of a set of drinkers whose conviviality is roysterous in effect and type. The benignant quality of Hock is scarce suited to riotousness—appears expressed, indeed, for the sole delight of a leisurely and cultured palate. But this is mere opinion, and on this theme a difference is possible, and may be held with honour. At the next stage it is not.
With the Champagne man has become vainglorious: he is clamorous for a sign of the thing’s own character, for the frolic vapours of him have extended to his accessories. Now, in the matter of his vehicle, it is hard if you do not find his adventitious vulgarity somewhat accentuated. And, most of all, the right drinker frets and chafes at the Champagne glasses of ​old-world hotels and private houses—the wide-throated, the over-proportioned—wherein the beaded bubbles waste themselves into thin air or ever his time for them is come. In drinking therefrom he may recall, perchance, some caterings of the breath, the advance-guard of that arch-enemy, the Hiccough. He resents that extreme circumspection which is needed ere he drink: for a man should think only of that which he drinketh, and not whether or no he will be able to swallow without bearing testimony to the indignant ear. Often, too, the stems of this species are hollow: to the end, their vendors tell you, that, being filled, they may sparkle and bubble like an Iceland geyser; and this the right drinker may not behold without suspecting that the dust has gathered there since the last ​using. Now, it is known that atoms of bread-crumb and all sorts and conditions of alien matter cause a spurious effervescence; but he holds that virtue all too dear at the price. On the whole, the thoughtful have ceased to expect the creature himself wholly perfected either in his integrity or in his proper continent at the hands of your private householder; since he will neither pay for the one nor shed his infernal prejudice regarding the other. No; for this they must turn them to the restaurant (or feeding-shop), or go unsatisfied. And yet the points of a Champagne glass are neither extensive nor peculiar. It should be so thin that it clings to the lips as a membranous transparency—a bubble divided in twain, and floating on the wings of the wind. It should be wider in the middle ​than at any other point; should taper thereto from the bottom, or therefrom to the top—so that the soul of the wine comes concentrated into the mouth of its high priest. To be utterly avoided is the narrow hollow stem, which habours dirt or—what is as bad—inclines to the suspicion of dirt. Absolutely to be shunned is the flat superficies, for that, for reasons already insinuated, it prevents that first long, liberal draught which stamps the dinner a success.
Concerning Port and Claret there is less to be urged. The last has suffered much at the hands of the so-called Æsthetic; for it is a crying insult that he should be drunk out of opalescent and of art-green contrivances, unearthly as to their shapes; as it is that he should be degraded to the horrible magenta globosities you find at refreshment-​rooms and cheap hotels. For he is a colour to himself, and should only be savoured from pure white glass of wafer thinness, light as the fancy he inspires, large as befits the greatness of his soul, transparent so that his “purple tide” may ebb and flow in full vision. Now these points are for the most part recognised, so that you find him more aptly presented than any of his race. As for Port, so great is his predominancy that he would hardly be gainsaid, though you should take him out of pewter. You may buy his glasses by the pound-weight an’ you will; but even Port responds to warmth and thinness; and for the shape it matters little. Also his affable genius still lends itself to cut-glass and diamond points, wherein you may behold him sparkling and dancing at you in the full strength of his unutterable imperiousness.