Memoirs of Louis XIV, vol 8 | Page 5

these
things, I say, went for nothing. Less than a month sufficed these
humane commissioners to render an account of this gentle project to
the Cyclops who had charged them with it. Desmarets thereupon
proposed it to the King, who, accustomed as he was to the most ruinous
imposts, could not avoid being terrified at this. For a long while he had
heard nothing talked of but the most extreme misery; this increase
saddened him in a manner so evident, that his valets perceived it
several days running, and were so disturbed at it, that Marechal (who
related all this curious anecdote to me) made bold to speak to the King
upon this sadness, fearing for his health. The King avowed to him that
he felt infinite trouble, and threw himself vaguely upon the state of
affairs. Eight or ten days. after (during which he continued to feel the
same melancholy), the King regained his usual calmness, and called
Marechal to explain the cause of his trouble.
The King related to Marechal that the extremity of his affairs had
forced him to put on furious imposts; that setting aside compassion,
scruples had much tormented him for taking thus the wealth of his
subjects; that at last he had unbosomed himself to the Pere Tellier, who
had asked for a few days to think upon the matter, and that he had
returned after having had a consultation with some of the most skilful
doctors of the Sorbonne, who had decided that all the wealth of his
subjects was his, and that when he took it he only took what belonged
to him! The King added, that this decision had taken away all his
scruples, and had restored to him the calm and tranquillity he had lost.
Marechal was so astonished, so bewildered to hear, this recital, that he
could not offer one word. Happily for him, the King quitted him almost
immediately, and Marechal remained some time in the same place,
scarcely knowing where he was.
After the King had been thus satisfied by his confessor, no time was
lost in establishing the tax. On Tuesday, the 30th of September,
Desmarets entered the Finance Council with the necessary edict in his

bag.
For some days everybody had known of this bombshell in the air, and
had trembled with that remnant of hope which is founded only upon
desire; all the Court as well as all Paris waited in a dejected sadness to
see what would happen. People whispered to each other, and even
when the project was rendered public, no one dared to talk of it aloud.
On the day above-named, the King brought forward this measure in the
Council, by saying, that the impossibility of obtaining peace, and the
extreme difficulty of sustaining the war, had caused Desmarets to look
about in order to discover some means, which should appear good, of
raising money; that he had pitched upon this tax; that he (the King),
although sorry to adopt such a resource, approved it, and had no doubt
the Council would do so likewise, when it was explained to them.
Desmarets, in a pathetic discourse, then dwelt upon the reasons which
had induced him to propose this tax, and afterwards read the edict
through from beginning to end without interruption.
No one spoke, moreover, when it was over, until the King asked
D'Aguesseau his opinion. D'Aguesseau replied, that it would be
necessary for him to take home the edict and read it through very
carefully before expressing an opinion. The King said that D'Aguesseau
was right--it would take a long time to examine the edict--but after all,
examination was unnecessary, and would only be loss of time. All
remained silent again, except the Duc de Beauvilliers, who, seduced by
the nephew of Colbert, whom he thought an oracle in finance, said a
few words in favour of the project.
Thus was settled this bloody business, and immediately after signed,
sealed, and registered, among stifled sobs, and published amidst the
most gentle but most piteous complaints. The product of this tax was
nothing like so much as had been imagined in this bureau of Cannibals;
and the King did not pay a single farthing more to any one than he had
previously done. Thus all the fine relief expected by this tax ended in
smoke.
The Marechal de Vauban had died of grief at the ill-success of his task

and his zeal, as I have related in its place. Poor Boisguilbert, in the
exile his zeal had brought him, was terribly afflicted, to find he had
innocently given advice which he intended for the relief of the State,
but which had been made use of in this frightful manner. Every man,
without exception, saw himself a prey to the tax-gatherers: reduced to
calculate