PARIS, Wednesday, July 24, 1675.
The weather is so extremely hot, my dear, that instead of tossing and
tumbling in my bed the whim took me to get up (though it is but five
o’clock in the morning) and chat a little with you.
The king arrived at Versailles on Sunday morning; the queen, Madame de
Montespan, and all the other ladies, went to take possession of their
former apartments. In a short time after his arrival, his majesty began
to make the usual visits: the only difference is that they play in the
state-apartments. I shall have more intelligence before I conclude
my letter. The reason of my being so ill-informed of what passed at
Versailles is, that I came but last night from M. de Pomponne’s;
Madame de Pomponne had invited D’Hacqueville and me in so pressing a
manner that there was no refusing. Indeed, M. de Pomponne appeared
delighted to see us; you were spoken of with all the friendship and
esteem imaginable, during the short time we were there, and there was
no want of conversation. One of our whims was to wish we could see
through a great many things which we think we understand, but which,
in fact, we do not; we should then see into what passes in families,
where we should find hatred, mistrust, anger, and contempt, in the
room of all those fine things that are set to outward show, and pass
upon the world for realities. I was wishing for a closet hung with
mirrors of this kind instead of pictures. We carried this odd notion
very far, and diverted ourselves extremely with it. We were for opening
D’Hacqueville’s head to furnish ourselves from thence with some of
these curious anecdotes, and pleased ourselves with thinking how the
world is in general imposed upon by what they see and take for truth.
You think that things are so and so in such a house; that such a couple
adore each other; but stay a while and turn up the cards, and you
will see that they hate each other most completely. You would imagine
that such an event proceeded from such a cause--the little demon that
drew aside the curtain would undeceive you; and so through life. This
afforded us infinite amusement. You see, my dear, I must have plenty
of time to entertain you with such trifles. This is the consequence of
rising so early in the morning; this is doing as M. de Marseilles does.
If it had been winter I should have visited by torch-light.
You have your cool north-east wind at last. Ah! my child, how
uncomfortable it is; we are broiling with heat in this country, and in
Provence you are starving with cold. I am convinced that our shrine has
effected this change; for, before the procession, we discovered, like
you, that the sun and the seasons had changed their course. I thought I
had discovered, too, like you, that this was the true reason that had
occasioned the days we so much regret to fly so rapidly. For my part,
my dear child, I experience as much sorrow to see these days passed
and gone forever, as I formerly experienced joy in spending winter and
summer, and every season, with you; this painful thought must give way
to the hope of seeing you again.
I wait for cooler weather before I take physic, and for cooler councils
in Brittany[116] before I venture thither. Madame de Lavardin, De la
Troche, M. d’Haroüis, and I, shall consult together about a proper
time for our journey, having no design to run ourselves into the midst
of the commotions that at present rend our poor province. They seem
to increase daily, and those concerned in them have got as far as
Fougères, burning and ransacking all the way as they go along. This is
rather too near the _Rocks_. They have begun a second time to plunder
the _bureau_[117] at Rennes: Madame de Chaulnes is terrified almost to
death at the continual menaces she hears. I was told yesterday that
some of the mutineers had actually stopped her in her coach, and that
even the most moderate of them had sent notice to M. de Chaulnes, who
is at Fort Louis, that if the troops he had sent for took a single step
toward entering the province, his wife would run the hazard of being
torn to pieces by the insurgents. It is necessary, however, that some
troops should march against them, for things are come to such a height
that lenitives are no longer of service. But it would not be prudent
for us to set out before the storm is a little subsided, and we see
the issue of this extreme confusion. It is hoped that the approaching
harvest will help to disperse the rioters, for after all they must get
in their grain; and there are nearly six or seven thousand of them, not
one of whom can speak a word of French.
[116] The exorbitant taxes that had been imposed upon these
unhappy people had obliged numbers of them to have recourse to
arms, in order to free themselves from the load of exactions that
it was impossible for them to bear.
[117] A kind of exchequer established in all the principal towns
in France for the collection of the king’s revenues.
M. de Boucherat told me the other day, that a curate having received a
clock that had been sent him from _France_, as they call this part of
the country, in the sight of some of his parishioners, they immediately
cried out in their language, that it was a new tax, they were sure
of it, they saw it plainly. The good curate, with great presence of
mind, and without seeming at all confused, said to them, “My children,
you are mistaken, you know not what you are talking of; it is an
_indulgence_.” This brought them all immediately upon their knees.
You may, by this specimen, form a judgment of the understandings of
these people. Let the consequence be what it may, I must wait till the
hurricane is past; but I am sorry to be obliged to defer my journey.
It was fixed at the most convenient time for me, and it can not be
put off without interfering with my plans. You know my resignation to
Providence; we must all return to this at last, and take things as they
come. I talk wisely, as you see, but I do not always think wisely. You
well know there is one point in which I can not practice what I preach.