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The Coeur Spring Fair was a wonderful event. We spent many happy hours wondering from stall to stall, chatting with friends, enjoying the Dukes wine...Thank you!

After such a pleasant afternoon we were in the mood to visit the rest of the Duchy and set off in a wonderful carriage provided for us by a kind friend.

In the spirit of the day we began a race, determined to prove the speed of our carriage...... true maybe one of our party did get a bit carried away by her competitive instincts, and I personally began to feel nervous when she pulled a pistol out of her Bodice and threatened our coach man. I suspect he may also have felt nervous, as he lost control over the carriage and drove it into the lake.

So there we were...water filling up the coach as it sank deeper into the lake. I could feel my dress shrinking on me as I tried to persuade my friends that this was not a good place to stay. Some discussion ensued as to how we should open the carriage doors without the help of servants, and exactly what I meant by the term Swim.

I somehowsucceededin kicking open the doors, but lost my hat in doing so, and managed to drag the other ladies out of the carriage, persuading them to climb on top of the carriage, while I made for the shore to get help.

With my dress soaked and ruined I managed to call for help, and champagne was immediately sent. Practical help took somewhat longer to materialise but did in the form of a handsome stranger who came to our rescue.

He bravely stripped of his shirt, and I quite forgot about my ruined dress, as he jumped in a handy nearby Gondola, and sailed it to the sunken Carriage.

With the Ladies carefully seated, sipping their champagne in an attempt to overcome the stress of the circumstances, our hero gently rowed them to safety.

Dear Millicient,

Thank you for information about proper church etiquette; it was helpful this weekend when I attended church with my new friend Marquis Auguste Baptiste de Fines.

My dear friend the Marquis is a good host and a charming companion. He is talented and plays the harpsichord very well. We spend time dancing in his home and having tea in the garden with his cat. Something has come over my friend as of late, and it concerns me greatly. He drank some wine last night, a lot of wine, I believe, and he injured himself. His doctor seems to think that he should avoid the wine for some time, but what do country doctors know? All men require some relaxation to calm the mind and heart. I believe that one of his servants may be trying to poison him, so I took it upon myself to fasten lead strips inside the wine casks to test for poison. In a few weeks, if poison is present, the lead strips will be bubbly, crusty and white; if not, the wine is safe to drink. I have also left a small packet of mustum and sapa with his servants with instruction to blend these things into his drinks, should he request more wine. I have left the directions with the servants:

Put the mustum in leaden vessels and by boiling reduce it by a quarter, others by a third. But, before the mustum is poured into the boiling-vessels, it will be well that those which are made of lead should be coated inside with good oil and be well-rubbed, and that then the mustum should be put in....The vessels themselves in which the thickened and boiled-down must is boiled should be of lead rather than of brass; for, in the boiling, brazen vessels throw off copper rust and spoil the flavor of the preservative.... To make very sweet mustum , boil down to a third of its original volume.

I am confident that my friend will be well quite soon, as mustum is sweet and shall restore his vigour.

Give my regards to the little ones,

Love, Renonys

Above: ***La Loredan just before bed, the last night of the move. The view is magnificent and the stars are truly bright in the Meliorian sky, yet one star seems to be absent from the Principality.***

I am certainly one who attempts to plan her time wisely, but surely moving into a new home should not be so lengthy and exhausting as the last few days have been...

God was surely smiling on me the day I hired my new maid, Amalia, just days before I moved into the Villa Vesuviana in Melioria. It must have been a month ago when I had received invitation to be a resident at the villa by His Highness, Prince Elswit- though I must have seemed the fool as I was far too quick to accept. It was an interesting prospect to move from the town, and up onto the hill, with a view of that same hill and town from my bedroom window. A most welcomed surprise, at the least.

All the more reason I should have been prepared for my move, things were organized from furniture to clothing, which would be brought in first, what would go where, how things would be set up. A lesson to all my fellows who in future will change residences: hire someone to measure staircases and hallways. I felt myself pale when I heard one of my daybeds was dropped, thankfully not my mother's, that at least made it intact and unscathed.

Another intriguing fact to this move was that the Contessa Della Torre di Rezzonico... was my neighbor, so to speak. Just down the hall from me was the woman who takes charge over some very fine tailors... and who takes a verbal swing at my family, each and every time she sticks her nose out into the sunlight. A mixed blessing, or fate has a very twisted sense of humor.

The Contessa Rezzonico must have been out, surely someone of her... let's say disposition, would have been quite angry at all the noise being made to heave my furniture into place. Even I was eventually at the site, ordering servants about, even in fact raising my voice. A good first impression to my new home, and those who I shall be sharing it with... Thank Heavens the Prince is in Spain, the last thing I need is for him to hear me shouting down the hall at my servants, and even some of his. How to terrify a prestigious, well-mannered Adonis: an introductory course presented by the enraged Loredan.

Once everything was in place in the rooms, CeeCee was, using the word lightly, kind enough to retrieve some tools to open the fireplace chimney in my bedroom. I was worried soot would get everywhere, just after I had laid my rugs down, but thankfully, Amalia managed it without much fuss. And by the time nightfall came, I had a lovely fire to keep me warm and to keep the room alight. At that point, my hair was down, my jewellery was off, and I felt like a mess. Far too tired to bathe, I collapsed into bed, leaving Amalia and a few other servants to tidy up the rooms and finish putting my clothes and decor where I had specified.

Morning came and I did manage to have my well-needed bath, a relief to say the least to soak in hot water. My brother was kind enough to bring a large bouquet of roses, and a beautiful vase he had made with the portraits of all three of us (myself and both siblings) adorned on it. Though Amalia was late at arriving for breakfast, understandably having slept through the dawn, I did have a lovely meal with my brother. All in all, thinking on it, it was not as horrible a move as I thought it was. It could have been worse, God forbid.

Paris, March 29th

How dull places can be when one doesn't have access to those rooms you are used to just walking in. I, who has been used to sitting in the centre of attention for years have no other choice now to settle for a mere corner at the side, of the hall, to stand, peeking in - and that only when the doors open. It could be argued of course that for every person it is good to change their positions or take another identity in life for a while just to experience that side of the world. If only to reach that level of experience to be able to feeling a more sincere compassion for the less fortunate and to understand more of their world and strive to move up the various social ladders in our world. I hear it is easier here, but it involves a certain usage of sheets and bravoure, which is not given to all I am afraid.

On the other hand, looking around in this sorry excuse for a room in my Paris lodging - one would rather choose to let it all be and move back to her comfortable position. I have seen many lodgings in my life, but never as dirty as this one. But what can I do? There is no chance to call upon the houses of our friends in this city, if I would do that, the purpose of my journey will be gone. I must not forget and instruct Marie more properly to pay attention to where we go. I absolutely cannot be seen here. Paris might be a good stopping place since I have not been here in at least 7 years, but it still remains dangerous for maintaining this nom de plume. He will know instantly when it comes out, and then what?

This week the rest of my luggage will arrive from. I have instructed them not to stop here but on the other side of town. From there they can bring it all over and switch the rest. It will be a welcome change. I have been wearing the same gowns for a good two weeks now and if it weren't for the bodily scents alone, which are steadfastly deepening themselves in the fabric, it would be for the massive boredom which overflows me now nearly every morning when Marie opens the trunks to pull out a dress for the day. I could of course buy some here, but the cut of the dresses does not excite me that much. Although on the other hand, as a Baronne here and now, I'd perhaps do wise to follow the local fashion. I could pass for a French woman but only if I claim to have spent some years abroad. Oh, this seemed like such a brilliant and adventurous plan at home, but I did perhaps not realize my privileges and position enough for it. To blend in now is quite hard on me, but I need to without any other choice - I will not fail!

I might send Charles back if he makes one more mistake. Today he displayed the mind boggling stupidity of addressing me as myself... in front of the innkeeper! Thanks be to God for sending me Marie eight years ago for she had the clarity of mind to kneel in front of me and straighten my skirts and clean the trimmings while I tried to compose myself. With that she saved me. Only now the innkeeper surely considers me to be one of these uptight baroness that forget their rank so easily outside court. Marie confirmed it to me, but also heard the wife of the man say that I am just like the rest of them. So in the end he might have done me a favour. Nevertheless, one more mistake like this - Heaven forbid he would do this to me at court - and I will drop him personally at the nearest port to be taken on as a sailor for five years on a French navy-vessel! That should teach him not to follow orders.

Speaking of the innkeeper, I do not trust him or his wife too much. I dare not leave my jewellery here, tomorrow Marie must pack all and bring it to a bank. I can always use the name my father used for his missions, his bankers have a branch here and I trust they have not forgotten the system he used. I shall keep two sets for variation - but then again at court I cannot constantly wear the same. Or perhaps one pays less attention to that here. I will have to look into the matter. Bah, the discomfort of travelling like this dawns upon me.

From "Villa Torbiato", Franciacorta

March, year of our Lord 1780

Dearest Friends,

I thought it was about time I put Quill to Parchment, and hope this letter finds you all in good spirits and health.

Spring has come to Franciacorta, and the countryside is getting ready to bloom. Hopefully winter is well and trully behind us.

The renovations on "Torbiato" are progressing well. The ground floor is just about habitable, and I have finally been able to hang some of the paintings you so kindly gave me.

Undeniably life in the country is very different from court or town life, but do not be fooled! It is far from quiet!

Father has returned from his travels, and is very busy working in the cellar.

I have no idea what he is working on, but wish it didn't involve blowing up the house.

There are plenty of other distractions.

We seem to be overrun with Rabbits, so the hunting is good, and there seems to be no end to what Devi can do to a rabbit in a kitchen.

The weather is warm enough for us to end the day on the Terrazza, enjoying the view over the lake, whilst drinking a glass of Father's home made Grappa, though I swear it has a back taste of Saltpetre.

I look forwards to hearing from you soon, and remain your ever affectionate friend.

Elena Marina

dei Conti Foscarii

Yesterday Stormy and i took a day off to go to the harbor and watch the ships. Justlike i always used to dowhen i was a kid, back at the port of Antwerp. It was a beautiful and sunny day. I really hoped toclimb ona ship and do some sailing myself. Cousin Bedrich sended us a note we could try out the ships if we wanted to. Well, no need to tell you that he didn't needed to say that TWICE !

Once arrived at the harbor, off course we choose the LARGEST ship we could find, to try it out. Honestly, wouldn't you have done the same?

Likei said,it was a nice day and i feltgood being a Capt'n. At days like these i envy Fletch, who seems to do this for a living.

Stormy looked great in her green spring dress. She readed the maps as my navigational officer. At a certain moment she told me to turnright(starboard in correct nautical terms) to sail into the sea canal to go to the Provence Region. But somehow... the canal didn't actually fitted the boat... I really have to go and complain with the harbor management. It's a scandal !!It'soutrageous...

Finallyi managed to put the whole thing in it's reverse and sailed further to the get into the open seas.

You would not believe how bad people can steer and follow rules these days. How do they actually got their sailing license anyway?

At a certain moment we saw another ship coming from the left side... Can you believe it? He wouldn't stop !!! Did he never heared ofgiving priorityto someone who is coming from the right side???? Stupid British... always doing things the opposite way. Anyway... this Panacek didn't stop... No Mister...To bad for him...

Then Stormy had this brilliant idea of sailing to our home at Tourraine. I tried to steer into the delta of the Loire river... but that was obviously blockedby abridge.Whodesigns and builds this kind of bridges anyway? Ok, we had to face a dillema. Sawing off the top of the mast, or blowing up the bridge? I am sure cousin Bedrich wanted his ship back in one piece, so we decided to use some spare gunpowder to "clear" the problem.

Then Stormy spoke the legendary words "Houston, we have a problem"...facing our most difficultobstacle of the day. A waterfall in the wrong direction...

I can't tell you the details, but it involved abucket of paint and drawing the word "Salmon" at the place where the ships name was encarved...

So... With a big BANZAIIIIIII we crossed this pain in the *ss...

And... arrived home at La Chasseresse safe and sound... Ok, with the exception of some wet feet... But the main thing was that we made it. We boldly went where no ship was gone before... Hip hip hoorrraayyyyy !!!

And a bottle of rummmmmmmmmm.....

* * *

Epilogue:

The other day i had to bring the ship back to the harbor, because my renting time was due. It took me a while to get it back where it belonged, but i finally made it in (almost) one piece. Though honesty obliges me to inform you that It wasn't easy to get it parked correctly... (Why do they make these parking lots so small????)

Better not to tell cousin Bedrich right away, before i haveinformed my insurance agent about this...

I hope you all enjoyed our adventures and be sure to be here next time for thefollowing episode called "Pekel goes ballooning".

Your sincerely, Dr. Panacek P. - War Surgeon.

We are leaving our beloved home for a long while.

Tonight as the Fire Sprite heads out to sea I think on the journey to our fattoria in Las Californias. The journey will be long. but it has been 4 years since we have seen our holdings outside the small mission San Juan Capistrano . We are excited to see if the Criolla grapes have produced a wine of any consequence and if there is the possibility of bringing back slips to our vineyards here in Melioria.

It will be a long sea voyage and we expect the turmoil caused by this endless hostility between all nations over the Inglese loss of their colonies will make it even harder. The Inglese are giving outward diplomatic agreement to the spirit of safe passage for the neutral among us. But their pirateers have free rein on the sea lanes encouraged to take as many prizes as they canthe goal tocontinually needle the Bourbons. And though officially neutral what better point to drive home to the Napoli royal family and their relatives in Versailles and Madrid that even their little peaceful cousin Melioria is vulnerable to attack.

We pray our hugging the North African coast to Tangiers and a speedy dash thru the Strait we can pass the first dangers of this trip. We pray for strong trade winds. We shall see.

Dear Millicent,

I trust this letter finds you well. You will be pleased to hear that upon your advice, I have begun attending church in my new home of Provence. The church is small and led by a handsome young parson, the shepherd of a fine flock. I believe him to be holy and virtuous but somewhat misinformed. Today they discussed the death of one of their brothers who killed himself in a great sacrifice to his father. The parson continued to refer to the deceased as your brother and our brother and the father of the deceased as our father. Naturally, I grew quite concerned as these poor people were obviously confused about my lineage. I ascended the pulpit to set the story straight: my father is dead and buried in Paris, not alive here in Provence, and my brother certainly did not sacrifice himself to him, for he is, by no help of mine and to my great disappointment, still alive. Close examination of my visage and family name should reveal that I am not related to any of them. Upon vacating the pulpit, I made my rounds to the membership and offered my condolences to each and every one individually, on the death of their sibling. The water in this town must have something in it or the people must be naturally fertile for them all to be related. One can only wonder what transpires at family reunions.

The sermon moved away from the death of the family member and there was much talk of good harvests and reapers. They seemed preoccupied with filling the granaries of their lord. (The only lord I know of in these parts is Lord Bedrich Panacek and I believe that he oversees the lands of the entire duchy.) I could only assume that these people are the tenants of Lord Bedrich and his wife. They seemed to be quite enthused to turn out and work their peasants even harder to bring in a bountiful harvest. Lord Bedrich must have keen eyes, for the good Parson advised that he was always watching and sees all of our actions and even our most secret thoughts. (I do hope that he was entertained and has a good sense of humour as I shared a fortnight with my bele chose and the team of jolly coachmen! My dear friend, let me tell you, those coachmen were indeed well-travelled. If you should happen upon an opportunity, I suggest that you take a very long trip by coach if you should ever require entertainment and distraction.)

The congregation kindly passed a plate to collect the lords rent and I thought it interesting that his tenants make their payments in this way. As I pay my rent in full each month, I did not feel it necessary to add funds on his money plate. In fact, I found it quite convenient as I had already paid my rent this month and Lord Bedrich had not the correct change. I exacted that amount from the money plate and now consider us to be even. It wasnt until halfway through the passing-of-the-plate that I realized, with shock and horror, that these good people were not receiving receipts for their payments! How would Lord Bedrich know who to credit with the exact amount? This system is clearly open to suspect and corruption. My dear friend, you shall know that I took it upon myself to intervene! I grandly strode forth, stopped the service and intercepted the money plate. Announcing my concerns and intentions, I fetched some parchment from the great book upon the altar, stole a feather quill from my coiffure, used the parsons cup of wine for ink, and wrote receipts for all. My spirit is at rest knowing that these goodly people will not be taken advantage of for their kind generosity.

In all, I found the Sunday to be a rewarding, uplifting event and nurturing for my spirit. Thank you so much for your direction.

Please give my regards to the little ones,

Much Love,

Renonys

1760:

With forty-four years old, the king Carlos III left Naples after abdicate in his son Ferdinando, a little child of six years old. Carlos leaves the Kingdom wich shall be governed by the skilfull tuscan Marquis of Tanucci, President of the Regency Council. Tanucci will be a good servant of his lord, because Carlos -being king of Spain- will send instructions to Tanucci about the most minimal napoletan affairs in long mensual letters.

"Departure of Carlos III, by Antonio Joli"

With tears in his eyes, the napoletan people said good bye to his king, symbol of independence and good governance, and a large spanish fleet took the Royal Family to Barcelona. There, was discovered a conspiration to poison Carlos. That is no new in his life, he is a survivor: In 1734 was discovered in Naples a terrible conspiration to poison the young Carlos, later, after being crowned in Sicily, his carriage plunged into a river and Carlos was rescued "in extremis" by his coachman. The episode of Barcelona was not a good welcome. The old spanish nobility have problems for contains his nerves with the curriculum of Carlos as political reformer, the poisoning is only a little evidence of this.

For travel to Madrid, was necessary the temporal requisition of a great number of carriages and carts for transporting the Royal Family, the Court, and his goods. The jouney was really long -the stay in Zaragoza was like a cold prison for Carlos- and the arrival to Madrid meant a necessary rest. However, the eyes of the king Carlos were irritated overlooking the city: called "The Pigsty of Europe", Madrid is a dirty, poorly urbanized, and dangerous capital. Of course would imperative design a new -and illustrated- Madrid, butmeanwhile was better live in the many great palaces situated around the city. San Ildefonso would the best election...

A little profile:

Carlos III, with his forty-four years old, have his face scorched as consecuence of his obsession: the daily hunting. At first glance, he is ugly and scary, but seen close, h is face conquest the people by the kindness of his eyes. B eing very thin , is robust, and despite his short stature, Carlos inspires respect.

The character of the king is rigid but benevolent, greets everyone , including lower -class servers, he hates the lies and hypocrisies, is known in all Europe for keep his word: treatises of Carlos are unalterable.

Carlos is very religious -a great catholic-, devoted to his family, and a lover of his wife , Maria Amalia of Saxony. In company of the Queen, Carlos III smokes his cuban cigars and comments gossips about his own courtiers.

Everyone criticizes the three defects of Carlos: He uses italian ministers to govern in Spain, the etern hunting, and the passion for building or "the disease of stone". But Carlos compensates the criticism with constant work of governement.

Carlos III is considered an enlightened, but he was more practical than theoretical. Is not a man of great reads , but believes that innovations are vital to the survival of a people: and he -and his italian ministers- has come to reform .

An important detail: Carlos III is too routine , he feels bad if arrive before or after of the appointed time , he hates wearing clothes flashy , always using the same - in absece of the King, his servants changes their clothes worn by some new regularly- and his employees of governement are always the same persons. Carlos III is a clock!

"The older Carlos III, by Goya, with his simple clothes of everydays"

Bibliography:

FERNN NEZ, Conde de: "Vida de Carlos III", Madrid, 1788.

VOLTES, Pedro: "Carlos III y su Tiempo", Madrid, 1975.

DOMNGUEZ ORTIZ, Antonio: "Carlos III y la Espaa de la Ilustracin" (1988)

Webgraphy:

http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carlos_III_de_Espa%C3%B1a [03/06=2011 1:20 AM]

Who will ever understand the sense of death. Who will ever understand why beloved people have to leave us. How are we meant to cope with their loss? These events leave us speechless, breathless without any possibly way to understand it.

it is with great sadness that we announce that Mikk Graves' partner, the sweet-tempered and loving Wren died suddenly yesterday in a hospital. He is in our hearts and thoughts. May the love of Wren forever be balm to his soul and we grieve with him.

Rest in peace warm friend and lover.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

(Sonnet 18, William Shakespeare)


With great affection for the loss of friend we will always remember

Nonna Hedges
MarieJosette Laville
MariaAntonia Barenhaut
MariaTheresa Milneaux
MarieAdelaide Chaveau
MarieLouise Harcourt
MarieAdelaide Clemenceau
Desireme Fallen
CharlesAntoine Ronin
West Lyvingston
Tlazolcuani Xeltentat
MarieAntoinette Resident