I have not written to you for several days because I have been to
Montargis, whence we have come back here, where we found the courier
who brought us the dispensation for my daughter's marriage. It will
take place Monday next and two days later she will start. [Mlle. de
Chartres married Léopold, Duc de Lorraine, and was the mother of
Francis I., Emperor of Germany, the husband of Maria Theresa.] You can
easily imagine that my heart is full, and that I am nearer to weeping
than laughing, for my daughter and I have never been separated, and
now we are to part for a long time. My eyes are full of tears, but
I must hide them; otherwise people would laugh at me, for in this
country they do not understand how it is that persons should love
their relations. One repents very soon of speaking out one's thoughts,
and that is why I live such a solitary life. You are very happy in
being able to laugh still; it is a long time since I have done so,
though formerly I used to laugh more than any one. Persons have only
to marry in France and the desire to laugh will soon leave them.
The King of England is not, I think, in much of a hurry to be married.
That monarch is certainly, on account of his merit, one of the
greatest kings that ever wore a crown; but between ourselves, if I
were maid or widow and he did me the honour to want to marry me, I
would rather pass my life in celibacy than become the greatest queen
in the world on condition of taking a husband, for marriage has become
to me an object of horror.
What is worse in this country than in England is that all the persons
who conduct themselves ill, men and women, devote themselves to
politics and seek to intrigue at Court, which leads to much perfidy
and deception. In whatever country we live, if we are married we must
drive jealousy out of our hearts, for it does no good; we must wash
our hands in innocency and keep our conscience pure, although we may
have no pleasant intercourse and nothing but long and weary hours of
ennui. I do not fret myself now about the way the world goes on; I
despise it, and I have little taste for being in society. One hears of
nothing just now but tragical events; they have lately condemned five
women who killed their husbands; others killed themselves.
Nothing is so rare in France as Christian faith; there is no longer
any vice of which persons are ashamed. If the king wanted to punish
all those who are guilty of the worst vices he would find no more
princes or nobles or servants about him; there would not be a family
in France that was not in mourning.