Shadows in the Vineyard: The True Story of the Plot to Poison the World's Greatest Wine by Maximillian Potter
Authors: Maximillian Potter
Tags: TRUE CRIME / General, Travel / Europe / France, Social Science / Agriculture & Food, Antiques & Collectibles / Wine
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French military was at war in several international theaters, by that summer of 1755 he feared a domestic revolt. Louis XV began to hear the protesting voices in his head like a relentless monastic chant, the vibrations of which began to shake his throne and his mental stability.
The king saw traitors where there were none, and trusted aides were there were traitors. As Pompadour’s personal handmaid wrote in her diary, the king had long been “habitually melancholy”; now he began to sense threats from all directions. While some members of the court whispered about paranoia, death was indeed coming for the king. Perhaps at that very moment it was choosing its weapon and path. A plot for assassination was under way.
In his private study, just as he had on matters of foreign affairs, the king turned to the man who had been his friend since they were children; the one person he trusted and respected more than any other; a man who was equally trusted and respected by the
parlement
, by the Protestants and Jansenists, by the French military, and for that matter, by the French people—his cousin, seven years his junior, the Prince de Conti.
During the day, when Conti’s carriage would travel through Paris, pushing through the crowds, his street-level perspective afforded him an intimate view of the volatility of the times. Everyone, everything, it was all right there in the streets of Paris: the people together before him, around him, so tightly mashed together, yet divided. Such that the country maybe could notstand. The inequity, the resentment, the hate: All of it was seething. He could smell it as plainly as he could smell the raw sewage dumped into the streets. The operative in Louis-François knew that such dissension could be a valuable tool. It could be harnessed; it was a power. He carried these observations with him into the darkness and his secret rendezvous.
The secret meeting had been facilitated by Conti’s aide, Nicolas Monin. Monin had served in the army under Conti and remained by his side when the prince returned to the royal court in the mid-1740s. It was as King Louis XV’s trusted chief of staff that Conti had been empowered to pursue delicate diplomatic missions and persuaded the king to agree that a network of spies was necessary to gather and relay intelligence throughout Europe via codes and other means. Monin had been an integral part of helping Conti build that infrastructure and managing reconnaissance assignments.
Recognizing the extraordinary nature of what was to be discussed that summer evening, Monin arranged for the treasonous appointment to take place down on the waterfront, in an abandoned building on one of the anonymous quays that wind along the banks of the Seine. Inside Conti greeted his visitor, none other than the Protestant pastor and wanted enemy of the state, Paul Rabaut.
It was the second meeting for the two, the first having occurred just a few weeks earlier. There was less of a need for small talk before getting to business. It would have been typically gracious of the prince to thank Rabaut for once again making the long trip from Nîmes to Paris. Rabaut, a man of devout faith and with immense respect for the prince, was always expressing his gratitude to Conti for his continued interest in the Protestant cause.
Because the meeting occurred around the prince’s August birthday, Conti would have had his age and mortality on his mind. Considering the endeavor in which the two of them were engaged, it was reasonable for Conti to wonder if he would live to see his next birthday.
Rabaut had contacted Conti months earlier, at first writing to him care of intermediaries, and then, having been assured that the prince sympathized with the Huguenots, to the prince directly. He had asked the prince if he would lobby the king to reconsider his policies regarding the Protestants. The prince had agreed.
The ostensible reason for the secret discussion now was a status report. The
The king saw traitors where there were none, and trusted aides were there were traitors. As Pompadour’s personal handmaid wrote in her diary, the king had long been “habitually melancholy”; now he began to sense threats from all directions. While some members of the court whispered about paranoia, death was indeed coming for the king. Perhaps at that very moment it was choosing its weapon and path. A plot for assassination was under way.
In his private study, just as he had on matters of foreign affairs, the king turned to the man who had been his friend since they were children; the one person he trusted and respected more than any other; a man who was equally trusted and respected by the
parlement
, by the Protestants and Jansenists, by the French military, and for that matter, by the French people—his cousin, seven years his junior, the Prince de Conti.
During the day, when Conti’s carriage would travel through Paris, pushing through the crowds, his street-level perspective afforded him an intimate view of the volatility of the times. Everyone, everything, it was all right there in the streets of Paris: the people together before him, around him, so tightly mashed together, yet divided. Such that the country maybe could notstand. The inequity, the resentment, the hate: All of it was seething. He could smell it as plainly as he could smell the raw sewage dumped into the streets. The operative in Louis-François knew that such dissension could be a valuable tool. It could be harnessed; it was a power. He carried these observations with him into the darkness and his secret rendezvous.
The secret meeting had been facilitated by Conti’s aide, Nicolas Monin. Monin had served in the army under Conti and remained by his side when the prince returned to the royal court in the mid-1740s. It was as King Louis XV’s trusted chief of staff that Conti had been empowered to pursue delicate diplomatic missions and persuaded the king to agree that a network of spies was necessary to gather and relay intelligence throughout Europe via codes and other means. Monin had been an integral part of helping Conti build that infrastructure and managing reconnaissance assignments.
Recognizing the extraordinary nature of what was to be discussed that summer evening, Monin arranged for the treasonous appointment to take place down on the waterfront, in an abandoned building on one of the anonymous quays that wind along the banks of the Seine. Inside Conti greeted his visitor, none other than the Protestant pastor and wanted enemy of the state, Paul Rabaut.
It was the second meeting for the two, the first having occurred just a few weeks earlier. There was less of a need for small talk before getting to business. It would have been typically gracious of the prince to thank Rabaut for once again making the long trip from Nîmes to Paris. Rabaut, a man of devout faith and with immense respect for the prince, was always expressing his gratitude to Conti for his continued interest in the Protestant cause.
Because the meeting occurred around the prince’s August birthday, Conti would have had his age and mortality on his mind. Considering the endeavor in which the two of them were engaged, it was reasonable for Conti to wonder if he would live to see his next birthday.
Rabaut had contacted Conti months earlier, at first writing to him care of intermediaries, and then, having been assured that the prince sympathized with the Huguenots, to the prince directly. He had asked the prince if he would lobby the king to reconsider his policies regarding the Protestants. The prince had agreed.
The ostensible reason for the secret discussion now was a status report. The
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