Read Online Shadows in the Vineyard: The True Story of the Plot to Poison the World's Greatest Wine by Maximillian Potter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maximillian Potter
Tags: TRUE CRIME / General, Travel / Europe / France, Social Science / Agriculture & Food, Antiques & Collectibles / Wine
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Edmond was lean and wiry, with knobby joints and a physique that bent forward, as if he were about to charge off into something. That was indeed how Edmond preferred to go at the world: straight into it, decisively. Politically speaking, he was a royalist. Not that he advocated for a return to anything like the days of the
Tale of Two Cities
, prerevolutionary
Ancien Regime
. It was more that he thought France benefited from a strong, dignified, and just patriarch.
He liked that General Charles de Gaulle had been moving more formally into politics. Only weeks earlier, riding the momentum of World War II victory and his role as the interim prime minister of the French Provisional Government, De Gaulle had galvanized a new political party, the
Rassemblement du Peuple Français
. The RFP’s overarching belief was that Franceshould view itself as a world power and conduct itself accordingly, that France should hold itself to the highest expectations and standards. De Gaulle presented himself as an alternative to the typical politicians. “Deliberation,” De Gaulle had said, “is the work of many men. Action, of one man alone.”
Edmond applied a similar philosophy to his family’s winery, home to the crown jewel of French winemaking. He believed it was his responsibility to be just such a leader of action for the Domaine. He was the monsieur with the plan. A vision for how the Domaine ought to be. Truth be told, Edmond had strong opinions on how just about everything ought to be. When Edmond made his opinions known, his family and the extended family of employees took them as orders and knew not to question “
La Pere.
” One of the few times, if not perhaps the only time, Edmond was challenged was by his eldest son, Henri.
Many years after Marie-Dominique had died, Henri had fallen in love with a very distant cousin, Hélène Zinoviev, whose family had fled Russia in 1918 and settled in England, but visited France often. The Zinovievs were among the last of the boyars. Growing up a member of the Russian aristocracy that served the czar, Hélène was raised like a princess. She was a classically trained ballerina and pianist, and Henri immediately fell for her, and she for him. But Edmond would not allow it.
Complicating matters was the fact that Edmond had fallen in love with Hélène’s sister, Olga, and already married her. Edmond thought it would be scandalous if his son married his sister-in-law, and so he forbade it. Edmond relented only after his son was called off to fight in World War II and begged his father to allow them at last to be together before he went off to fight the Germans.
As Edmond walked through the vineyard with his grandson,he was walking toward his final years. There is a Nietzsche-like truism that is something of a cliché in Burgundy: The more a vine struggles, the stronger it becomes, the sweeter the fruit, the better the wine. If anyone could empathize with the vines of Burgundy, certainly it was Edmond. He might not have come to the Domaine a vigneron, but he had become one. Like the vinestocks planted there in that rocky soil ostensibly never meant for vines, Edmond, too, had endured and managed to flourish in inhospitable environments, between rocks and hard places, through harsh seasons. And when he was pressed, what Edmond gave of himself was elegant and pure and strong, like the finest Burgundy
grand crus
.
His hairline had receded, making his most notable facial features all the more pronounced. His dark, arched eyebrows, high above his eyes, almost connected at the top of his delicate nose. On someone else’s face the eyebrows might have seemed sinister. Not so with Edmond. At his most severe, he appeared pensive and concerned. More often than not, his face was creased by an expansive grin, which pushed his cheeks into points. In his eyes there was a vitality, a lightness. Despite all the tragedy he had witnessed, in his eyes there was always the hope that came
Edmond was lean and wiry, with knobby joints and a physique that bent forward, as if he were about to charge off into something. That was indeed how Edmond preferred to go at the world: straight into it, decisively. Politically speaking, he was a royalist. Not that he advocated for a return to anything like the days of the
Tale of Two Cities
, prerevolutionary
Ancien Regime
. It was more that he thought France benefited from a strong, dignified, and just patriarch.
He liked that General Charles de Gaulle had been moving more formally into politics. Only weeks earlier, riding the momentum of World War II victory and his role as the interim prime minister of the French Provisional Government, De Gaulle had galvanized a new political party, the
Rassemblement du Peuple Français
. The RFP’s overarching belief was that Franceshould view itself as a world power and conduct itself accordingly, that France should hold itself to the highest expectations and standards. De Gaulle presented himself as an alternative to the typical politicians. “Deliberation,” De Gaulle had said, “is the work of many men. Action, of one man alone.”
Edmond applied a similar philosophy to his family’s winery, home to the crown jewel of French winemaking. He believed it was his responsibility to be just such a leader of action for the Domaine. He was the monsieur with the plan. A vision for how the Domaine ought to be. Truth be told, Edmond had strong opinions on how just about everything ought to be. When Edmond made his opinions known, his family and the extended family of employees took them as orders and knew not to question “
La Pere.
” One of the few times, if not perhaps the only time, Edmond was challenged was by his eldest son, Henri.
Many years after Marie-Dominique had died, Henri had fallen in love with a very distant cousin, Hélène Zinoviev, whose family had fled Russia in 1918 and settled in England, but visited France often. The Zinovievs were among the last of the boyars. Growing up a member of the Russian aristocracy that served the czar, Hélène was raised like a princess. She was a classically trained ballerina and pianist, and Henri immediately fell for her, and she for him. But Edmond would not allow it.
Complicating matters was the fact that Edmond had fallen in love with Hélène’s sister, Olga, and already married her. Edmond thought it would be scandalous if his son married his sister-in-law, and so he forbade it. Edmond relented only after his son was called off to fight in World War II and begged his father to allow them at last to be together before he went off to fight the Germans.
As Edmond walked through the vineyard with his grandson,he was walking toward his final years. There is a Nietzsche-like truism that is something of a cliché in Burgundy: The more a vine struggles, the stronger it becomes, the sweeter the fruit, the better the wine. If anyone could empathize with the vines of Burgundy, certainly it was Edmond. He might not have come to the Domaine a vigneron, but he had become one. Like the vinestocks planted there in that rocky soil ostensibly never meant for vines, Edmond, too, had endured and managed to flourish in inhospitable environments, between rocks and hard places, through harsh seasons. And when he was pressed, what Edmond gave of himself was elegant and pure and strong, like the finest Burgundy
grand crus
.
His hairline had receded, making his most notable facial features all the more pronounced. His dark, arched eyebrows, high above his eyes, almost connected at the top of his delicate nose. On someone else’s face the eyebrows might have seemed sinister. Not so with Edmond. At his most severe, he appeared pensive and concerned. More often than not, his face was creased by an expansive grin, which pushed his cheeks into points. In his eyes there was a vitality, a lightness. Despite all the tragedy he had witnessed, in his eyes there was always the hope that came
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