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 inte