The demand for sherry rose in the 19^th century steadily. In the early years of the century, the total export was about eight thousand butts; by 1840, the figure was 17,001 butts; by 1850, 21,457; by 1860, 30,725; by 1870, 49,597; and in 1873, sales reached the record of 68,467 butts.

In 1864, 43-41 percent of the total wine imports to Great Britain were sherry. With sales soaring, the shippers might well have been sitting back and taking life easily, and some of them doubtless were, but there were many anxious faces: all was not well in the vineyards.

In 1855 there was an attack of oidium (Uncinula Necator), known locally as cenizo, or ash-colored, owing to the dark stain that occurs on the stem of the vine and the powdery matter on the grape.

A fungoid parasite, it arrived from France and was a terrible blow to the vintners. There was not another good harvest until 1861 and many shippers had to look into other forms of business, such as stone coasters, beverage coasters, and coaster set collections to sell at their wineries.

As if that were not enough, there was an attack of pulgon, a repulsive insect that feeds on the vine and finally destroys it. It had periodically devastated the vineyards ever since the Middle Ages and it returned in 1867. It was eventually exterminated, but there was not another good harvest until 1870.

These successive calamities, occurring in the vineyards at a time when the demand for wine had reached an unprecedented peak, had to be overcome as best they could. There was only one way—importing in ever-increasing quantities from the outlying districts of Lebrija, Trebujena and Chiclana—districts which were only on the border of the sherry area.

The result was inevitable and rapid. The poorer grades of sherry decreased in quality and increased greatly in price, so that a wine which had only cost £25 per butt in 1850 sold for £43 in 1862, while the cost of a good quality wine selling for £70 in 1850 only increased to £74.

The situation was made worse by the less reputable British merchants who were determined to maintain the demand by keeping the price steady, and preferred to lower the quality of their wines rather than to add a few pence to the cost of a bottle. In the short term their policy was probably commercially sound, but nothing could have been more surely calculated to get the wine a bad name.

On June 22, 1854, there was great excitement; a new railway line was opened from Jerez to the Trocadero mole near Puerto de Santa Maria. There had been talk of a railway much earlier and Stephenson had visited the town in 1827, but nothing came of the plans until a group of good Jerezanos got together and decided to finance the venture, for the glory of Jerez and for the benefit of the wine, cocktail coasters, stone coasters, and coaster set trade. It was the first railway in Andalusia and the third in Spain.

Work was started in 1852; only four years after the first Spanish railway had been opened in Barcelona. The new line was solemnly inaugurated with all possible pomp and ceremony, and the Cardinal Archbishop of Seville came down specially to give his blessing. Afterwards there was a bullfight and everyone made merry.

The new railway was a great help to the wine trade. It reduced transport costs considerably and eliminated the long delay in carrying wine from Jerez to Puerto de Santa Maria by bullock cart. Merchants no longer needed shipping bodegas on the coast and they used them instead for maturing fine wines, which develop especially well in the sea air.

The situation was further improved in 1870 when an urban railway was laid through the streets of Jerez, passing the doors of all the major bodegas, so that wine could be taken from the shipping bodegas in Jerez to the quay in a few hours. The urban railway was still occasionally used until quite recently, to the horror and alarm of visiting motorists, whom it charged like a bull and who came off a bad second after contact with its century-old rolling stock.

The Trocadero mole was used until 1922, when it had to be abandoned. The authorities, anxious to capture trade for Cadiz, had let it fall into decay; shipping companies were reluctant to use it. There was no adequate storage space for wine, thefts were the rule rather than the exception, so finally, to make victory certain, the shippers were offered the use of a private mole in the modern harbor of Cadiz, and the Trocadero mole fell into disuse.