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25 April 1785

The Haven

Dearest God-father,

The post rider from Bordeaux has brought me tidings from both you and Lucien, for which I am most delighted and grateful. I confess I have put Luciens packet aside so I may conspire with you to make certain arrangements for the apartments you and he will share in Rocca Sorrentina when Lucien is able to travel to that lovely island as his responsibilities to the Marquis permit and you are able to slip onto the island unobserved by those you of necessity elude.

If all goes well, a ship of our agent in Marseilles will dock in Sorrentina within a fortnight. I trust you will both approve and enjoy the paintings I have chosen from the collection here, as well as household objects I know you to hold dear by virtue of the memories they hold for you.

The fine craftsmen and shopkeepers of Sorrentina will be a source for good seating and tables and a small number of fine musical instruments are being delivered from the mainland for your pleasure and for those small entertainments I hope you and Lucien will host when you are in residence.

Know that I will continue to send you things to fill up your pied a Terre with things I know you to hold dear. As for the books you have asked for, I will bring those myself, since they are too precious to send unaccompanied.

Finally, do not chide me, godfather, for extravagance in the selection of comestibles that will soon arrive to fill your larders. I cannot be with you to preside over your table, so I send youand our dear Lucienan abundance of pleasures of the table to savor to remind you both of your Lorsagne.

As for news from the estate, I write you as I sit on the small terrace next to the vineyard planted with the new vines you helped select after the disastrous harvest of two years ago. The roots have found good footing and are putting out the their first real vines which the workers are tying up under the watchful eye of the vigneron who marches up and down the rows like a bandy rooster taking the measure of his hens.

I confess that Fanny and I share some of the vignerons zeal: to see the Havens wines fetch the prices of our neighbors would give us the greatest of satisfactions! I tease her that the business of making wine cannot be nearly so difficult as that of transforming words into books, but she assures me both activities are more alchemy than rote and watching her labor on her manuscripts I am inclined to believe her. My foolish letters to you are labors of love; for Fanny Burney, her words are the expression of her ambition and her need to provide for herself. She is quite remarkable and these months of enjoying her company in this quiet place have given me great joy and comfort in yours and Luciens absence.

Until we next meet, Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut.

Lorsagne

24 April 1783

Haven, France

Dear Jane,

Thank you for sharing your "scribblings" with me. Isn't it sad that a woman's writing, her hard labor, is referred to thus whilst a man's is thought of as the product of his life's calling? Oh, I too refer to my writing as you have yours. You are not alone in denigrating your talent and your industry.

I have completed the pages you sent me and want you to know I am delighted. My comments on what you have written are in the margins of the manuscript itself. It is so good to read such fine work from a young woman I have known most of her life. What I find surprising is that I did not know before now that you write. Is this a new pursuit or have I been completely blind to what you do? Did you intentionally hide your projects, as I once did. Are you aware that I first tried to publish under a male nom de plume? I used to hide my writings in the back of mywardrobe and was thoroughly mortified when anyone came upon me when engrossed in my own "scribbling." It was not until Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale saw fit to comment on my prose, and to share it with others of their literary class, that I came to realize that I what I create, the stories I weave, are worthy of attention.

I hope that this note from me will encourage you as much as Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale encouraged my younger, less experienced, self. Please do not give up your work, dear one. Write as though God himself has told you to do so. It is your calling. Of that, I am sure.

You asked how much longer I will be in France. I have not yet made any plans to leave and expect to stay here in Boudreaux for some time yet to come. My friend, Lorsagne, is a marvelous hostess to many artists, musicians and writers. One never wants for stimulation or conversation here. All I need do is walk out the door of my guest house and wander the gardens here until I come upon some other wandering guest of the Chatelaine. I was lucky today; I met up with the lady herself and was able to enjoy an hour or more of delightful communion with one who knows much about many things.

I do hope this letter finds you in good spirits and better health. My best to your mother and father. Please kiss my own sisters, should you meet them in town. Most importantly, write some more. Feel free to send along for my comments.

Your Supportive Friend,

Miss Frances Burney

Fanny Burney and Lorsagne de Sade, The Haven

19 February 1785

Dear Miss Chase

I write this note in some haste as I prepare to leave Rocca Sorrentina with Gabriel. He has persuaded me that, given the irregular presence of the good doctor on the island that it would be safer for me to continue this pregnancy on the mainland, closer to a qualified doctor. Your help has been a great comfort to me, but even you worried that my health and that of my unborn child might depend upon the availability of a physician. I hope you will accept the small token of my gratitude and esteem enclosed in this parcel.

Gabriel is to perform next Month in Vienna. I will not travel that far with him. He will leave me in Rome. From there, I will travel a short distance to the home of my dear friend, Lady Agnes Whitby, in Tivoli. Lady Agnes has a physician in her fulltime employ. There, I will enjoy the remainder ofthe carefree months before my laying in. You will be pleased, I think, to hear that that Gabriel has cleared his schedule to be with me for the whole of June, and as much of July as seems necessary. My daughter will be joining me in late April and has no plan to leave my side before September. I will be well cared for.

I have spoken with with the kind professor and with Lady Sere. They have agreed to make space for my happy family when we are ready to return to the serenity of island life. I look forward to seeing you then.

Wishing you all the best,

Mrs. Hester Piozzi

I have always ben fascinated by the Flying boats, Particularly those of Pan-American Airways and there Famous Flying Clippers Boeing Model 314 Flying Boat. Flying in only 60 hours from San Fran cisco to Honk Kong, with stops in Honolulu, Midway Island, Wake Island, Guam Island and Macao.

This where Luxurious plans, there interiors more closely resembling a fine ocean liner than a plane. Fine meals where served, passengers had compartments, not just a chair. The Pan-Americans Clippers where all first class, and only the very well held could afford to travel by it.

In 1939, Hong Kong, a British protectorate on the edge of chaotic China is a lot like the way Casa Blanca was, but in the South Seas, Oriental instead of Colonial French Desert. It was filled with Many Europeans as will as refugees. China was in a 3 way civil war, Japan had invaded Manchuria.

Now for a O.C.C. the Hugh Hercules H-4, a truly magnificent Seaplane, I happened upon this, as I was looking for either the Boeing B-314, or the Martin M130 Flying Boat ( neither have I found.)

I saw this plane in Real Life, and this version is very good, and it let me play and do a few pictuets.

My idea was to create a set of pictures of the Pan-American Clipper, say as it is in Hong Kong, in the Bay, the Malory boats faring passages and supplies to and from it, while junks travel to and foe and fishermen fish. On the dock is a Pan-American Office, a Wireless Station, a Post Office, a Hotel and Bar, and a gathering of local shops.

Well heeled passengers waiting to board

Others, who for one reason or another, would like to board, but may need to get out of Hong Kong, but do not have there Fair, or a visa which would allow it.

The worries about all of the strife in the region.

The Exotic local, the thousand story , the romance of a journey.... This would make a great background, for a story, a picture , a sim.

On the third day, in the darkness before dawn, the ship docked in Marseilles harbour. The sun was already high in the sky when Beatrice and Hugo joined the Conte on deck.

Buongiorno, my young friends. I trust you have slept well. The Conte greeted them energetically.

I have already spoken to my local contact, who informs me that the coach will be ready to leave at dawn tomorrow. The Conte continued.

I have an appointment with my bankers now. We will meet here at five this afternoon. The luggage will be safe on the ship, but it would be a great help, Sior Dieter if you would find suitable accommodation for tonight. The Conte concluded.

Hugo nodded in understanding.

You may count on us, Sior Conte.

The Conte bowed, smiled, walked briskly onto shore and was gone.

The air was crisp as Hugo and Beatrice stepped onto shore, but the sun shone brightly. Beatrice beamed at the thought of spending the day exploring this ancient city in Hugos company. It seemed perfectly natural for her to slip her arm through his, as they strolled along chatting, and for him to adjust his arm for her comfort.

I was told by one of the sailor, that the local dish here is a delicious fish stew, called Bouillabaisse. Hugo told Beatrice as they walked along.

Well lets try some! Beatrice suggested enthusiastically, laying her other hand also on Hugos arm, and squeezing it affectionately.

Lookhere is a tavern, and I am very hungry. She giggled.

As they entered they were greeted by the cosy heat of the open fire, delicious fishy smells emanating from the Kitchen, and a tall, buxom woman with raven hair, smoking a pipe.

Bonjour Madame, Monsieur. I am Madame Fanny. What can I do for you?

Bonjour Madame Fanny, do you serve a dish called Bouillabaisse? Hugo asked hopefully.

Mais bien sur Monsieur, I made some fresh this morning. Please come and sit down, make yourselves comfortable, and I will fetch some food for you, and something to drink? Maybe some of our local wine?

Some warm Rum, please Madame, for both of us. Hugo added, looking warmly at Beatrice.

Madame Fanny raised a critical eyebrow to herself and disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing a short while later with food and warm Rum.

Hugo took the opportunity to ask Madame Fanny if she could recommend a good Inn that could accommodate them for the night.

Mais bien sur, Monsieur. She replied

The best place is Le Logis du Panier, just a bit further down to the right.

So is this your Tavern, Madame Fanny? Beatrice asked as she finished her food, and gently wiped her mouth.

Ahh Non, Madame. It belongs to my father in law, Monsieur Cesar. The old balding one in the corner, playing cards with his cronies, as per usual. Madame Fanny indicated the card players with a nod of her chin.

My Son, Cesarion, is supposed to be running this tavern, but he is away who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what. Madame Fanny took a puff of her pipe and cleared away the empty bowls. She returned with two slices of apricot tart, which she set down in front of Hugo and Beatrice.

I usually run the fish stall outside, as did my mother, Honorine in her day, may the Saints keep her soul. Continued Madame Fanny, lifting her eyes to heaven, and taking a puff of her pipe.

I let her down so badly.

And your husband, Madame? Beatrice enquired

Away at sea. Madame Fanny replied bluntly.

That must be very lonely for you, Madame.

Ah que voulez vous Madame, when a man has the Sickness of the Sea Madame Fanny puffed wistfully at her pipe.

How did you let your mother down? Hugo prompted Madame Fanny.

The usual way a daughter lets her mother down, Monsieur.

You married badly? Against her wishes?

It was more a case of putting the cart before the horse, if you follow my meaning, Monsieur. Madame Fanny explained meaningfully.

Beatrice nodded with understanding.

Hugo looked perplexed.

I was unmarried. I was in love. I sinned. Madame Fanny clarified, thinking how innocent Hugo was.

But did your Fianc not marry you? Beatrice asked

Ohh he wanted to, but I could see that this caused him torment, and that his true mistress, the sea was calling him.

So what happened? Hugo and Beatrice asked in unison

I decided not to tell him that our Sin had born fruit. I pretended that I did not love him, and sent him away. He chose to believe me, and sailed the very same night.

Oh Madame, how dreadful! What did you do then? Beatrice asked.

I married Monsieur Panisse.

Monsieur who? Beatrice and Hugo asked.

A friend of Monsieur Cesar, over there. Again she indicated the card players in the corner.

I was honest with him about my Sin, but he married me anyway, God keep his soul She continued.

Is he also dead? Hugo asked, slightly concerned about the mounting body count.

Yes, sadly my dear Panisse died some years ago. Such a good man Madame Fanny dabbed her eyes with the corner of her apron.

What happened to the one who went to sea? Beatrice asked Did he ever return?

Yes. Three years later. He came to find me. To tell me that he had realised how much he loved me. He begged me to come away with him. But I had married Panisse by then, and could not betray him. He had been good to me, and was as a father to Cesarion. So again I refused Marius, and again he sailed away that same night.

That is a tragic and romantic tale, Madame. Beatrice exclaimed, stealing a wistful glance at Hugo.

But if Monsieur Cesar is your Father in law, and if the sailor is his son, you must have married him eventually. Hugo stated.

That is correct, Monsieur. Monsieur Panisse died, may the angels keep his soul, Marius returned, and finally we were free to marry. Madame Fanny Concluded taking a puff of her pipe.

So your story has a happy ending. Beatrice smiled hopefully, stealing another glance at Hugos profile.

WellA Happy Ending is a matter of opinion. Cesar is still playing cards, Cesarion is still who-knows-where, Marius is still away at sea, and I am still doing all the work. Madame Fanny chuckled cynically, as she cleared the plates from the table.

(Dedicated to Marcel Pagnol)

Though I've had abundant experience with real-life home renovations , my Second Life renovation record is rather spotty. When it comes to virtual homes I'd generally rather build them myself than buy them, especially because I know I just can't stop myself from remodeling my new purchase.

It was the same way back in my days of TheSims2. I'd download a brand-new abode and spend the next week (or two or three) ripping it apart and putting it back together. On the bright side, that destruction/construction cycle taught me a lot about architecture & 3D construction. I'd actually recommend it to anyone interested in honing their own skills.

This year with spring just around the corner, I was anxious to add a few new rentals to my Duch de Coeur regions. Being long on ambition but short on time, I decided that a purchase was in order and after much consideration selected a chateau from Never Totally Dead .

As you can see, the exterior fits right in with the 18th century Duch and the layout, with its generous rooms and considered traffic flow, is wonderful. This chateau just oozes charm & atmosphere!

Perhaps a little too much atmosphere inside for my lighter tastes.

For one thing, there is a story about the original owner falling on hard times and struggling to maintain the house. For another, you can expect a certain spooky vibe from a company called Never Totally Dead and they more than deliver.

I've been up to the attic twice now. Once when I was checking the house out and again for this photo. I don't think I'll be climbing those twisty stairs again anytime soon. Skye & I still aren't really sure what's in the room behind the locked door

Which reminds me; on posting my first "Before" picture I received a number of comments identifying the house and recommending an exorcist might be brought in along with the painters & plasterers!

Thankful for all the great advice & support given from my friends at Royal Courts of Second Life , I rolled up my sleeves and got down to work.

One salon, one kitchen, one foyer (with grand staircase), two bathrooms, three bedrooms (including the master) and two studies later, I'm quite happy with the results! It was a lot of fun being able to use my favourite textures in a new setting.

I did leave the attic "as is" thinking it can be used for servants and/or relatives that have fallen out of favour but insist on coming to visit anyway.

Chateau Claire is now up for rent but you are welcome to visit until it becomes a private residence. Just check the rental sign at the front gate to make sure it's still available for a tour.

Please report back on your adventures there!

___________________________________________________________

Images: Tatiana Dokuchic (click to enlarge)

Find Tatiana Dokuchic  on Google+

Originally published on Tatiana's Tea Room as My Chateau Reno

AN EXCERPT FROM BEATRICE'S JOURNAL

It has been ages since I picked up my pen to record in my journal; I have so much to write about that I'm not sure where to start. I've been living in Sorrentina for almost two years now and have an excellent job as secretary to Conte Foscari who works from his office in the Villa. Now I will be travelling again--on business but, I hope, for pleasure too. Today the Count, Hugo and I left Sorrentina and set sail for Provence!

Hugo, Beatrice and Conte Frascari

Leaving Sorrentina

From Provence we will begin a long journey by carriage to Prussia. It will take us through central Europe - the mountain passes, forests and hillsides. We will be staying at inns and perhaps taverns, so I do hope we won't encounter any fleas or vermin. I will wrap myself in my velvet cloak when I sleep. I packed some clothes that I hope will keep me warm and dry in this miserable winter weather which I know will only get colder when we travel further north and into high altitudes. When she said goodbye, Elisabetta tearfully gave me a warm woolen scarf she had knitted for me that I will tie round my neck once we arrive in Marseille. I will miss my sister but I'm glad she is staying in the warmth and safety of Sorrentina.

I am joining a trading mission that was initiated by the Count, although I am not too clear what goods will be sold or bought. He is relying on my knowledge of French and German to help in his business transactions so I am bound to learn the details soon enough. Both men are very secretive about the nature of their mission. Hugo is joining us as a companion and also to do business. I'm so glad; he is such a gentle kind man. I will have interesting travelling companions.

A winter storm

We left Sorrentina as the sun was setting. It was a beautiful evening but one that turned into a violent storm, driving us indoors to the warmth of the cabin below. I was feeling quite seasick as a result of the violent movement of the ship but after resting for a bit and drinking some ginger tea, I began to recover. As the ship pitched and rolled, I began to think about the past as well as about the weeks ahead.

In the cabin below deck

Only the Count knows about my past; I shared it with him during our first interview in Sorrentina- over a year ago. The time of my departure from Prussia was a painful one despite its pleasant beginnings. I grew up playing in the gardens of Sanssouci, Frederick the Great's summer palace in Prussia. When I was 18, I married Duke Vaclav Wolf von Mecklenberg, from a small Duchy north of Prussia. He had joined the army of Frederic the Great with whom he had a terrible falling out. The monarch of Prussia had begun to conquer half of Europe and became quite ruthless in his way of treating people, including his soldiers. My husband, always outspoken, became more and more critical of him, occasionally quite publicly. He made many enemies as a result of his outspokenness--enemies who, I fear may exist today. He was eventually stripped of his rank as Captain and ordered to leave the army. Disheartened and broken, his dreams of being part of united Europe destroyed, my dear Vaclav, filled with shame, abandoned me and the rest of his family and quietly left the country under the cover of darkness. I was informed, a few months later, that he died alone, of tuberculosis in a Viennese hospital run by nuns. We were never able to say goodbye to each other, a source of immense grief to me. I cant even say goodby to him now-he must be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the Austrian Alps.

I was heartbroken of course and wanted to leave this cursed country, so I moved to Austria with my sister Elisabetta. We lived a hand to mouth existence in Vienna, surviving off the sales of all my jewelry (except my mother's precious moonstone necklace she gave me on her deathbed.) Using the rest of our savings my sister was able to study at a convent where she learned the genteel arts of sewing, embroidery and petit point. We eventually made our way across the high mountain passes to finally arrive in Venezia where I made my living as many women did, as a courtesan. Later, with the help of Hugo, my sister and I escaped to the haven of Sorrentina.

And now I am returning to the land which gave me so much pain. I will have to place my trust in God, my friends and my wit.

New horses & touring carriages have arrived in the Duch de Coeur and Skye & I couldn't be happier to have this popular mode of travel back up & running through our estates!

It was a snowy winter morning back in December when we made the shocking discovery.

17 January 1785

Mrs. Piozzi commiserates with the captive birds in the rotunda of the Villa Vesuvia.

Dear Miss Chase,

The appointed date has come and gone and it was with no remaining doubt whatsoever that I informed my husband, Mr. Piozzi, ofmy great news. Gabriel was present on Rocca Sorrentina for just a few daysand has now departed for work abroad. He will be in France for some weeks which will be followed by a brief trip to England. How I wish I could accompany him on his journey, but that seems to still be inadvisable as the symptoms of early pregnancy are still with me.

Which brings me to the point of this letter -- well one of the points. I was wondering if you might have any recommendation for swelling in my hands and feet which seems to go beyond the normal addition to her girth any expectant mother can, well, expect. This swelling sometimes combines with the usual indigestion to make it quite impossible for me to function as I would like on a daily basis. I fear I am becoming quite the recluse. It is my hope that you know of a remedy.

Secondly, I am wondering of I might meet with you once again in your other capacity. I could use some guidance with regard to a private matter concerning my daughter who remains in England.

I do hope all is well with you and yours.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Hester Piozzi

9 January 1785

The Haven, France

My Dearest Sister Hetty,

It breaks my heart to read the news of the great man's passing. I shall miss him for the rest of my days!As I write these words, I hear him chuckling. "But of course you will miss me," he says. I'm not the sort of man one forgets easily. I promise to haunt you for as long as haunting seems called for." This is said in that lilting and teasing tone of his, the tone that says, " You will move on, Fanny, when you are ready," and at the same time says, " You won't know who to be without me, my girl, so you'd better not move on at all!" For myself, I think the second statement to contains the purer truth. Dr. Johnson is, to great degree, the person who taught me who I am meant to be. He is certainly the one who reminded me most frequently and most succinctly when I have not lived up to my own potential. I do not believe there will ever be a day in my life when he is not in my thoughts and heart.

As to other news, I arrived safely in France some days before Christmas. Having delivered father's manuscript to Monsignor Aguillard, I traveled on to The Haven, home of my friend Lorsagne de Sade. In her lovely home, I passed a peaceful Christmas holiday and am soon to move into one of her guest houses, where I plan to stay for some months at least. As you know, there is writing to be done and, with Mother Dear, father's wife, ensconced at St. Martin's Street, I think I will be more productive here in France. Lorsagne is a good and supportive friend who recognizes the need of artists and writers and composers for congenial company alternated with frequent bits of serene solitude. Here at The Haven, she offers both. Hers is a home frequented by scholars of all ilk, particularly writers and poets, painters and composers. There are entertaining (and often challenging) conversations to overhear and fine meals to be enjoyed in sophisticated company. There is also the privacy of my own rooms to which I retreat when company overwhelms or work beckons.

Today, I am traveling in Provence, shopping for articles I will need during my extended stay on the continent. Oh, Hetty, you would love the shops here! There is champagne to be had at every seamstress', and chocolates in the milliners'! Yesterday, I selected a wonderful chair for my desk at Lorsagne's. It will be delivered before I return there myself and I so look forward to using it. The needlework of the upholstery is detailed and lovely. The colors are sublime.

I believe my carriage has arrived to take me to another shop. Dare I hope for petite fours?

Give my best to all! You are missed my beloved sister. We shall be together soon.

Your Adoring Sister,

Fanny