November of 1785

Beloved Friend,

Your letters are ever wonderful as they are both agreeable in their timing and a tonic for my mind which I confess is somewhat unsettled as the days grow short and the skies over The Haven gray as the harvest comes to a close and the workers scurry about preparing for the coming winter. The harvest was good and my vingeron tells me he has great hope for the vintage. We will not know for many years, but I recall the words of the card reader in Sorrentina and hold the hope that one day the wines of the Haven will be equal to those of Haut-Brion in Pessac. It will be a disappointment if we fail, of course, but I cannot permit the possibility of disappointment to deflect me from my ambition to bring honor to the name of de Sade.

Papa, I regret, is no good advocate for the rehabilitation of his name. His transition from his imprisonment in Vincennes to the Bastille has not been without misadventure and misstep. Poor papa! He fails totally to assume the demeanor and tone of a prisoner instead of a noble forced to lodge beneath his station due to the political machinations of a mother-in-law that would best Lucifers demons-at-arms in any contest. His wife Rene kindly shares with me the letters Papa writes to her nearly daily and I continually marvel at the womans patience as he rails and rants and does not service to his cause by the taunts he throws in the faces of his jailors.

Merde! Does it never occur to Papa that favoring these men who had nothing to do with his imprisonment and are in their own way trying to adjust the reality of his accommodation to his tastes daily volleys of scorn and venom does his cause no good? He berates them for the lack of his favorite chocolates and authors books, he sulks that his linen is not laundered to his standard and that his chamber pot is not emptied to his schedule. The result? They have denied him his greatest wish: the privilege of a daily promenade in the fresh air, away from his small suite of rooms.

Men! The art of obedience, acquiescence and subservience in the pursuit of ones ultimate goals is quite beyond their comprehension. They do not have our feminine advantages, and so must raise their voices and their boot to rule. Stripped of a public voice as Papa now finds himself and a man is less even than those most powerless in our society: old women with neither youth nor wealth to insulate themselves and buy their comfort until they rest in the ground.

But I grow melancholy and that is not my intent dear Fanny. You will enjoy the greatest of pleasures at Windsor and I envy you the company of that pet Mary Delany. Next to your letters, I most treasure hers; she is all I can hope to achieve in a lifetime and I pray you give her my love and affection at your earliest opportunity.

For me, I await to hear when the babe Maria is to be christened. The Parisian jeweler Nitot has fashioned the most beautiful of hair combs as my gift to my god-child and I am anxious to see the child once again.

As ever,

Lorsagne