St Hubert's Day
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If we say muddled strawberries with a gentle brush of velvety tannins, and you say Pinot Noir...
If we say Pinot Noir, and you say Yarra Valley...
If we say pioneering Yarra Valley winery, and you say St Hubert’s...
If we say medieval nobleman who had visions in a forest, chucked in his wealth and status, and became patron saint of archers, dogs, forest workers, trappers, hunters, mathematicians, opticians, metal workers, and smelters, and you say What the...???
Then, gentle reader, this WineDown is for you.
HUBERTUS
Hubert was born in Toulouse, in 656 AD – or thereabouts – the eldest son of the Duke of Aquitaine and also, presumably, a mother – whose identity fails to rate a mention in most reports. Despite a nasty childhood fever, which nearly carried him off, Hubert thrived, and life was good. ’Twas ever thus for the charming, good-looking, privileged sons of noblemen. At the Parisian court, where young Hubert was sent to serve, he was well-liked for his good humour and snazzy dressing. Hubert was a crack shot with a bow and arrow, and, like many of his pals, mad for hunting. With little else to do, he devoted most of his time to his chosen blood sport. Later, when court life in Paris became tedious, handsome Hubert relocated to another court, in the city of Metz in France’s northeast, where he was appointed Grand Master of the royal household. It was a most fitting position for the rabid hedonist he’d become. He met and married (for love!) Floribanne, the daughter of a Flemish Count.
Hubert was living the medieval dream.
HUBERTY BLUES
Noble or not, life has a way of hitting you in the chops. His adored wife died giving birth to their son, Floribert, and Hubert imploded. He withdrew from court, taking to the forests of Ardennes where he gave himself over entirely to his passion for hunting. It’s here, as the story goes, that Hubert experienced his epiphany. On a Good Friday morning, when the pious were crowding into church, Hubert was indulging his bloodlust, stalking a magnificent hart. In a moment more Potteresque than picaresque, the hart stopped and calmly fixed Hubert’s gaze – A SHIMMERING SILVER CRUCIFIX HOVERING BETWEEN ITS ANTLERS. While an astonished Hubert prostrated himself on the forest floor, a voice instructed him in no uncertain terms to mend his ways... or else!
THE MAN'S A SAINT
Hubert headed for Maastricht, where a friendly bishop offered counsel and spiritual instruction. He took to religion like a duck to water, giving his wealth and possessions to the poor, renouncing his (considerable) honours, and surrendering his patrimony (and the infant Floribert) to his younger brother – making him rich and a single parent at the same time. Hubert returned to Ardennes to convert the pagans and bandits who inhabited the forest – impressing them first with his archery skills, then hitting them between the eyes with his holy message. He was known for his knack for curing rabies – a handy skill to have in the Middle Ages. When Hubert died at the grand old age of 71, with, it’s said, the words of the Lord’s Prayer on his lips, he was already venerated throughout Europe. Just 15 years later, in 743 AD, Hubertus was canonized.
HUBERT DE CASTELLA
It was 1862 when Swiss-born Hubert de Castella arrived in Australia, with the ambition of becoming a wealthy sheep grazier. His dream was swiftly scuttled when the price of ewes went through the roof, but Hubert took heart from the burgeoning reputation of Victorian wine, and – despite a complete lack of experience as either viticulturist or vigneron - decided to establish vineyards. He purchased a tract of land in the lush Yarra Valley, and planted out 100 acres of grapevines. Hoping, perhaps for a heavenly leg-up, he named his vineyard, not after himself, but after his namesake saint, Hubertus.
ST HUBERT'S DAY
Throughout the world, St Hubert’s Day is celebrated on November 3rd. In Europe – and in Belgium in particular – the date is marked by festivities and masses, with special blessings for hunters, their dogs, and all their paraphernalia. Here in Australia, we’re more likely to kick back with a crisp Yarra Valley Chardonnay, a bright, spicy and textural Cabernet, or a mid-weight sweet-fruited Pinot Noir. Best part is, they’re not too hard to hunt down.
Tally-ho!