This material is prepared based on the original historical research from the section "Histoire de l'ampélographie" ("History of Ampelography") authored by Ch. Tallavignes, published in the first volume of the classic "Ampélographie" edited by P. Viala and V. Vermorel (Macon, 1901–1910).
Thirteen Centuries of Decline and Oblivion
Following the golden age of Roman agronomy, witnessed by Columella and Pliny the Elder, a colossal and prolonged gap occurs in the history of grape variety study. For thirteen long centuries, humanity seemed to undergo a heavy, prolonged moral and intellectual stagnation. Original scientific works simply ceased to come to light. Agriculture, which in the era of Cato was considered noble and honorable, was entirely abandoned to slaves and illiterate laborers, while the intellectual elite viewed it with deep disdain.
The finest practical traditions of the past were rapidly erased from human memory. A striking indicator of this decline was the incredible success of Palladius's agricultural calendar (4th century AD). This highly mediocre and superficial compilation became the sole manual for the most enlightened landowners of the Middle Ages for hundreds of years. In the two centuries separating Columella and Palladius, viticulture made not a single step forward — it simply forgot its accumulated knowledge. Palladius himself confined his notes to a brief mention of the Aminean and Apiane vines, deeming it sufficient coverage for varieties.
A similar fate befell the Greek branch of the science. The Byzantine compilation "Geoponica," assembled in the 10th century by Cassianus Bassus by order of Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus, represents another major compilation. The chapters dedicated to the vine were almost entirely extracted from works preceding Palladius. Cassianus Bassus preserved very little data on Greek ampelography, yet the few names that entered the collection are of interest as they are partially new. The most precise and detailed was the description of the Boleen vine (or Bolon in other codices): "A grape from Bithynia, very early and large, reaching almost a cubit. Grains are hard, white, round, and translucent; peduclnes are very long, triple. Luxuriant vegetation, long-lived stock. Short pruning, resists bad weather but dreads sudden temperature changes. Wine of sufficient quality but spoils quickly".
Other authors align with this sequence of compilations. Athenaeus, at the turn of the 3rd century AD, gathered precious materials for the history of winemaking in his curious "Deipnosophists," but assigned little space to true ampelography, mentioning only the vines of Egypt, which was then considered the leading viticultural country. Equally sparse in botanical details are the "Saturnalia" of Macrobius (early 5th century AD), reproducing the learned table talk of the Roman nobility. Finally, Isidore of Seville (7th century) left a commentary on ancient varieties that possessed low scientific value; the scholar preferred to comment on the names of vines unknown to him and likely already forgotten by contemporary vignerons.
The Paradox of Medieval Poetry and the Silence of Gaul
During this bleak period, the history of viticulture outside of Italy and the Orient remained in total shadow. In the writings of Columella and Pliny the Elder, names of vines imported from Gaul and Spain flashed occasionally, but Romans designated them primarily by their provenance (Bituricae, Helvenacae, Allobrogica) rather than their specific names. Yet, Gallic and Spanish vineyards had been flourishing since deep antiquity.
Here we encounter a striking and regrettable paradox. Writers and poets of the first centuries of our era, living in the provinces, seemingly refused to look at the reality surrounding them. Eumenius in the 3rd century praised the noble wines of Burgundy. The famous poet Ausonius (309–398 AD), who held high offices in Gaul, left vivid, joyous pictures of the vineyards of his homeland and the Moselle. He described in detail how the fertile vines reflected in the waters of the Garonne, but loftily remained silent, leaving not a single name of the varieties that yielded this fine wine.
Similarly silent was Emperor Julian, describing the extensive vineyards of Paris. In the 5th century, Sidonius Apollinaris sang of the vineyards of Bordeaux and Narbonne but dropped no variety names. In the 6th century, Gregory of Tours mentioned several crus already famous in his time, completely ignoring their ampelographic composition. Finally, around 560, Venantius Fortunatus repeated Ausonius's journey along the Moselle and the Rhine. He walked in verse along terraces carved into the rocks, admired the sweetness and deep color of the grapes, and described the magnificent trellises in the gardens of Queen Ultrogotha, yet failed to record a single name of the Gallic vines. For centuries, while European vineyards multiplied and expanded their boundaries, the main page of ampelographic history remained entirely blank.
The Birth of Vernacular Names: Grenache and Muscadet
When ampelography finally awoke from its centuries-long slumber, researchers encountered a completely altered landscape. A total linguistic shift had occurred. Naturally, not all ancient vines survived into this era. The devastating wars of these troubled centuries, radical economic realignments, religious prohibitions (such as the Islamic restriction on wine or the upheavals of the Crusades), and significant shifts in consumer preferences inevitably caused some lines to disappear and others to take root. However, the basic methods of propagation (cuttings, layering, and grafting) helped maintain the continuity of the plants themselves. Yet, the same cannot be said for their names.
By the start of the new period, ancient Greek and Latin literature was confined to monastic libraries. Latin remained the language of the church and rare scholars, but it was changing, merging with local vernaculars. Common vignerons had long forgotten the classical terms. Scholars of the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance, such as Pietro Crescenzi, Charles Estienne, or Angelo Poliziano, still drafted their agricultural texts in Latin, but they were forced to draw variety names from the vernacular, barely clothing them in a pseudo-Latin dress.
The first shoots of a modern ampelographic nomenclature broke through 12th- and 13th-century texts. The celebrated Arabic compilation "The Book of Agriculture" (Kitab al-Falahah) by Ibn al-Awwam of Seville (1158 AD) and the "Treatise on Simples" by Ibn al-Baitar (1197–1248 AD) described the vineyards of Moorish Spain. They classified vines by color, berry shape, or pulp firmness, but provided only isolated vernacular names for table varieties, such as Assabea-el-adari ("bull's finger") or Ma-la-ressa ("virgin's fingers"), leaving wine-producing grapes almost untouched.
In Christian Europe, a breakthrough occurred in the 13th century from a rather unusual source. Manuscripts survived containing translations of the ancient text "Secret of Secrets" (Secreta Secretorum), attributed to Aristotle. The French translation by the Benedictine Jofroi of Waterford and Servais Copale was highly imaginative. The translators confessed that they had "grafted several good things onto it." Among these free interpolations were several chapters on wine, providing the earliest historical record of a noble variety that has survived to our day — Grenache, described by the authors as "the periwinkle of all wines."
This exact variety, along with Muscadet and Gouais, was celebrated around the same time by medieval trouvères in the popular fabliau "The Debate of Wine and Water" (Desputoison du vin et de l'yaue). Shortly thereafter, the poet Henri d'Andeli in his famous "Battle of the Wines" (1258 AD) and the jurist Philippe de Beaumanoir in his "Coutumes de Beauvoisis" (1283 AD) also recorded the Goé or Gouais grape as one of the most widespread plants of the era.
The Era of Pietro Crescenzi and the Great Gamay Ban
The genuine return of science took place at the dawn of the 14th century. The Italian scholar Pietro Crescenzi (1230–1320 AD) authored his illustrious work "On Agricultural Benefits" (Opus ruralium commodorum), which achieved colossal success throughout Europe. Crescenzi traveled widely, experimented on his estate near Bologna, and while drawing upon ancient authors, infused his work with practical Italian experience. Crescenzi wrote in Latin but thought in Italian. In the third chapter of Book IV, he completely abandoned classical variety names and introduced about forty contemporary Italian grape names, lightly latinizing them. He made no attempt to build forced connections between the vines of Cato and those growing before his eyes.
Crescenzi provided detailed notes on the white variety Sclave (Schiava), noting its late budding, hard wood, and high productivity on poor hillside soils. Around the same time in France, the poet Eustache Deschamps (1346–1407 AD) introduced the names Pinoz (Pinot) and Morillon into literature, alongside the old wine grape Plant droit de Beaune.
This critical century-long stage concluded with the introduction of strict state control over the varietal composition of vineyards. In 1395, the Burgundian Duke Philip the Bold issued his famous historical ordinance. By this decree, he commanded the total expulsion of the "disloyal and damaging" Gaamez (Gamay) grape from Burgundian lands, which, due to its excessive yields, had begun to displace the noble Pinot Noir and undermine the reputation of the region's great wines.
The Verdict of the Centuries: Humanity approached the beginning of the 16th century and the dawn of printing with a very modest ampelographical baggage. The active stock of the revived science consisted of about forty variety names from northern Italy, three or four names of German vines (such as Huntsch and Frentsch), and exactly eight verified grape varieties of France. This was the foundation upon which the botanical atlases of the Modern Era would be built.