CAPE TIMES – 1933,
April 1
Only those
who traverse its many winding roads, its sunken farm lanes, its avenues of oak
and pine – stumbled on in unexpected places – who ascend and descend the
billowy ridges of well-ordered fertility, can realize and memorize the true
meaning of Constantia.
Constantia
effectively conceals its beauty; it does not flaunt its vernal splendours. Only
those who traverse its many winding roads, its sunken farm lanes, its avenues
of oak and pine – stumbled on in unexpected places – who ascend and descend the
billowy ridges of well-ordered fertility, can realize and memorize the true
meaning of Constantia.
OUT OF THE
CAR
You have to
get out of that car. You will for an hour or two have to leave that unromantic “tarmac”.
You must give yourself time, not only to see the things that are hidden from
the majority but to allow the full effect of 270 years of civilized settlement
in South Africa – concentrated and developed in farm pursuits and farm architecture
– to sink in. In no valley
is there so striking a South African atmosphere to be found. “South African” is the wrong term to use. Perchance
the atmosphere of Constantia is the atmosphere of “the Cape,” that old historic
term that we in the South should never relinquish, for, as the Cape, its place
in history is no insignificant one. Nor among the charmed and chosen valleys of
the world is Constantia the least. But not until those three interesting roads
have been traversed, has the full bosomed fruitfulness and graciousness of the
true Constantia been revealed to those who search for her.
NEST OF
HOMESTEADS
The difficulty
of attempting to describe all that Constantia holds, as a link in a chain of
wine and fruit-producing areas, one struck me when Witte-boomen, humming with
activity, forced its claim insistently. We pulled up. Just below, there was the
“nest” of the Constantia homesteads, Groot, High, Klein, and Hoop Constantia.
Over the hill – and the silver leaves tempted me to take that road through the
Witteboom – lay Glen Dirk, Hohenhort, and a dozen other desirable farms and residences,
amidst scenery that is, in my opinion, the finest in the valley. Away under the
mightly hills, where the pine forests of Tokai lay like a dark cloud with the
grey peaks above, there were the wine farms and the estates of the Lategans.
Lower down in
the valley, above Alphen, the Brommers Vlei Road carried, in its memories, its
own temptations. A valley crowded like a hive before, swarming, over-flowing
with luscious fruit and wines. The blame for any omissions – and they are
inevitable – must be laid not on me, but on Constantia. The rare vintage of
autumn in that wonderful valley cannot be compressed into an aum; it needs
special cellar-age, and time to mature. Lacking both, one is compelled to treat
Constantia in the abstract, a remarkable corner of the Cape Peninsula which by
the persistent genius of men and women, has been developed until it is not only
the most delectable spot, but on its output and the unfailingly high standard
that is maintained, the most valuable agricultural land in the Southern
Hemisphere.
HIGH
CONSTANTIA
Having
decided, then, to skate over thin ice, and to try and treat Constantia as a
complete entity, we moved on to the appointed task. High
Constantia differs from all other homesteads in the Cape. It is reminiscent of
all old French chateau, as the published impression from the angle at which we
saw it, will reveal.
Pausing, but
for a moment to watch the purple grapes being poured in a never-ending stream
into the insatiable maw of the presses, and to snatch an impression of the most
profile and probably the oldest pear tree that can be recalled, we left the
pleasant home of the Bertrams, where everyone was making full use of the
precious moments. As in duty bound, we paid inevitable call on Groot
Constantia.
I am afraid
the custodian of our national treasures will number us among the vandals of
that particular day, for we ignored the restored homestead. We looked out
across the valley over the vineyard wall, marked the fine impression created by
the enclosed court at the back of the homestead, raised our hats to the
classical pediment and the memory of Anton Anreith, and admired the luxuriant
vegetation that is filling up the deli. Then we hunted, unsuccessfully, for “Jock” van Niekerk, who occupies his time even in the football season in making
high-quality wines of the one-time Government Farm.
THE
PRESSING HOUSE
The
pressing-house a Groot Constantia is so spotlessly bright and clean. Not an
acorn or even a leaf falls but it is promptly removed. Admirable, perchance,
but there have been so many new buildings built on the old ideals of late that
one would leave this historic spot without that feeling of veneration if it
were not for one thing. The old block of farm buildings that flanks the main
approach have been admirably maintained, not restored or rebuilt.
There are
today just as they were when originally erected, and – that is precisely as Adrian
van der Stel, when Governor of the Cape, desired them. This restored the
balance somewhat. But autumn at Groot Constantia, without the rustle of the
fallen leaves as the wind stirs them, or without the crunching of acorns
underfoot must be most unsettling to the kindly spirits of its founders, though
there is compensation in the full maintenance of that great industry which
first made Constantia known throughout the world.
FORTY
FARMS IN THE VALLEY
Now the
problem had to be faced. There were forty farms in the valley, all producing
fruit for export, with 50% of them making quality wines. It was obviously
impossible, in such circumstances, to visit all of them. So, the line of least
resistance was taken, and choosing the hours when likely to be least
inconvenienced or to inconvenience anyone, a complete tour of the valley was
made, and every intersecting lane traversed. The one road on which we lingered
long was that at the back of Alphen, that leads over the hills, through
plantations of oaks, with vineyards at intervals, to Hohenhort.
Even at the risk
of estranging the friendship of those living on the other side of the valley,
this opinion is held that this is the Constantia, that, in future years will
live in song and story. It lends itself to poetic inspiration. It is the ideal
wine country of the Continent, but it is enclosed in a priceless setting of
mountains unchallengeable for colour and beauty anywhere, and over all is the beneficent sunshine that is rarely absent. Fold after fold, ridge after ridge
-for this is the reverse slope of Wynberg Hill – the country rises and falls in
a succession of verdure clad rollers, each wave crowned with its homestead or
chateau.
This is,
indeed, the Wine Mountain. Peculiarly it is the one part of the valley that 90%
of those who visit Constantia never see. At Hohenhort wine pressing and
grape packing, with apples to follow, were in progress, giving employment to a
little village which has arisen on the estate. A circuit was made of the centre
flower garden, and our departure was as swift and as unceremonious as our
arrival, just as it was at Alphen, ten minutes later.
Alphen and Hohenhort are recognized as
homes of good wines, of which they were among the pioneers. Alphen’s
wines are mentioned in the archives; their quality, in the great wine age, has
been testified to by many famous travelers. But these facts are so well known
that beyond this reference, and to the delight experienced in circumnavigating
that tree-shaded courtyard with a hundred casements looking out on us, nothing
more need to be said.
HEART OF
WOODLAND COUNTRY
Fruit,
flowers and a delightful sense of being deep in the heart of a woodland country,
is the prevailing impression conveyed by the Brommers Vlei Road, that turns off
the main highway after Alphen has been left behind. It leads right up to the
head of the valley near Klassenbosch. By farm roads it is possible to
cut right across the valley, passing Constantia churchyard – once hidden deeply
among the pinewoods. But pear and peach have superseded pines, and Constantia
is the richer, though much of the glory of her tall timbers has departed.
Eventually
wandering here and there, we came out at the head of the Tokai valley, having
marked on the way, the great oak at Buitenverwachting, the old-world
appearance of the Hoop op Constantia and looked out over that portion of
Constantia where the Lategan estates range to the forests. In our time, in the
time of the present generation actually, the family of the Lategans has brought
in half of the hillside, and much of the country that no one thought anything
of, and made it – Constantia.
Those who can
recall Tokai before the forests were planted, will remember the white
wind-swept sandy waste it was, sloping upward to wild heather-clad lands,
ridges and dells that ran into the Steenberg.
EXPANDING
BOUNDARIES
“Not much good
for anything,” was the general opinion. Yet, today, on the land where the
Imperial Field Artillery in the opening of the century, and frequently later,
used to fire live shell, to the detriment of none – are to be found some of the
finest fruit farms in the world. On the spot where the guns used to be parked
prior to “battle” practice, are the finest vineyards of Mr. W H Lategan, whose
table grapes were the envy of all who saw them at Rosebank this year. Nor is he
actually at the head of the valley on that side; there are others now above
him, climbing upward, just as they have done at Stellenbosch. If they go on
much further, it will be necessary to grow the grapes in trellises, as is done
in Madeira and on the banks of the Rhine.
The one great
fact remains, that within the last quarter of a century, Old Constantia has
been supplanted by a new, virile and vigorous Constantia, which has expanded
its boundaries until it is almost impossible to find an acre of soil that is
not producing to capacity, north, south, east and west. The success of those
who daringly farmed on the Tokai side, is one of the best examples of the value
of applied knowledge in fruit and farm enterprises that can be put forward. The South-Easter sweeps across those ridges so fiercely that the first proposals
were dismissed as impracticable. But the veteran, Mr. W H Lategan, who held the
outermost boundary, had sufficient confidence to “carry on.” He has won through
in no uncertain manner.
From the farm
“Uitsig,” it is possible to look across to the fruitful holdings of the other
members of the same family, and to know that in breaking new ground as he did,
he has left an indelible impress for good on the valley of Constantia. From
this corner pour the wines of Constantia that make cheerful the heart of man in
a never-failing stream.
The success
of this part of Constantia in fruit production is such that there may be a
temptation on the part of the authorities to emulate these achievements at
Tokai. But the probability is that the forests at Tokai have alone made
possible the splendid achievements in that corner of New Constantia that
have not yet attained to full maturity.
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