To my Venus Anadyomene, except the sea is a Chinese bath,
First and foremost, receive my deep-felt apologies for this late reply. In between a rarely busy grape harvest, several travels to acquire new equipment for the workers and later, to purchase five new horses for our stables, I have been dreadfully busy and scarcely had a moment to properly breathe.
The first somewhat surprising journey I had to undertake was to Dijon to buy picking knives and pans enough for a crew of twenty men. At the height of our harvesting, thieves broke into our sheds and stole enough equipment to set us back days! These rascals have not yet been captured and grape vines are the main produce here, so it will undoubtedly be difficult to find them, but police is investigating the matter with the utmost severity. Personally, I feel and believe we are looking at very deliberate sabotage.
Everyone knows how excellent our wine is.
On that note, I am sending you two bottles of our finest, a twenty year old vintage, harvested under my father’s reign while I was still a little kid. In wine farming circles we still speak of that summer; the Summer of the Sun King. The Sun King and all kings after him have since given up their spirits, but the wine remains and I think of another summer under any circumstances.
My second trip was better planned, years in advance at this point, as I have waited for a stallion to grow old enough that I may use it on my own mares. This animal has had my interest for more than five years now, and since its offspring is turning out quite remarkably, I am willing to pay a small fortune to take it off former Baron Duval’s hands. Our written agreement was the only thing that ensured he did not run from his end of the bargain. Oh, he was sad to see this horse go. Understandably. I felt so bad for him, Joseph, and had no interest in seeing our relation sour, that I bought four young mares off of him as well. Thus, my journey to Château Cielbleu wielded five horses rather than one and robbed me of half a year’s income. This better be the best damn harvest since the Summer of the Sun King or I may very well have ruined us.
The most enjoyable aspect of travelling so far and so much was all the time I suddenly had alone, to contemplate memories that are not even my own from some rich bastard’s Chinese bath. My imagination has never been more playful than in those late night hours as I went to bed in the smallest room in some roadside inn. I only slept little.
In regards to marriage, do not give in to your parents or to expectation from any other party. I cannot say much on this matter that would not look horribly indiscreet, but I will say this: to owe your feelings to another human being is a prison. Do not become that bird. There are birds enough currently in your apartment, or so I am told. The crate is for him. Fill it with more hay.
The few times I have been home over the past month, I have had visits from a gentleman from the village, a teacher, who plays the piano quite nicely and has played the Beethoven for Vivienne, with me accompanying on the violin. It reminds me of ancient days, Joseph, and to think so far back pains me still, when the present is nothing like those dreams of yore. As it is, M. Legrand is my daughter’s first, tender introduction to a musical education and she enjoys it more than I, fortunately. Every man says this of his children, surely, but I do believe she is a genius. She deserves nurturing.
Many things deserve nurturing.
I know how to grow grape vines, but that is the only vine I know how to grow.
(( July 15th, 1849 ))