Saturday, February 6, 2021

February 6th, 1787

 


It is a new year, but Spring still seems very far, however much we may long for its arrival. This past week was almost unbearably cold and there is no sign that this next one will be any better, with snow lingering in every shadowed corner and making it too slippery for the horses, which has halted many of the plans myself and my guests have had for the past few weeks.

Try as we might, Marianne and I were unable to locate any definite proof of the Chevalier's disloyalty, though I still feel a constant sense of unease about his affections. He is now returned to Paris, but did marvelously charm Maman during his stay in Riom. Charming though he might be, he was unable to hide his dislike of the town declaring it "provincial" in a manner which was unmistakably denigrating. He swears he meant it only in the strictest sense of the word, as it is a country province, but I know better. He insults the place I love, vastly preferring the city in every regard. Though it is allowable for two people to hold different views, it is hardly helpful for one's paramour to sneer at the things and places that one loves. I have not always preferred the country to the town myself, but increasingly I find it holds the peace I need. The city is too full of intrigue in large part because it is too full of people. Versailles is even more so.

The Comte de Vergennes is very poorly, and as such the Council of Notables has yet to convene. It is said that he has worked himself into exhaustion, but for well or ill the Council cannot long delay their work. The King, being very fond of Vergennes, is loathe to continue without him despite urgings from his other ministers. Vergennes enjoys support from Lafayette as well for his pursuit of French involvement in the American war in the colonies, which resulted in no end of favor for the Marquis (despite his disobedience to the King, which I shall never understand). This I mostly have from Elizabeth, Comtesse de R-, for it has been over a month since my last letter from Princess Elisabeth. Evidently my god-daughter continues well, though the Comtesse is much exasperated, declaring that the child has such lungs that she hopes we may expect a fine voice when she is old enough to begin music lessons. 

Andre and his wife have departed for their home recently, though it took them an extra day's travel to arrive as the roads were so bad. Mattieu has remained some days longer, but is eager to be on his way as well. Maman and I paint, but grow tired of the same daily activities and Riom has very little at present to relieve the tedium. If my latest letter from Menars is to be credited then my enemies at court continue their slanders, but I have little ability to counter this and less and less energy to even attempt it. Perhaps when the weather warms my energy will return.

-Olympe

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