RESERVOIRES, VERSAILLES.

September 10th.

How I love Versailles--the jolliest old hole on earth--(I wonder why one

uses slang like this, I had written those words as an exact reflection

of my thoughts--and nothing could be more inexact as a description of

Versailles! It is as far from being "jolly" as a place can be--nor is it

a "hole!") It is the greatest monument which the vanity of one man ever

erected, and like all other superlatives it holds and interests. If the

Grand Monarque squandered millions to build it, France has reaped

billions from the pockets of strangers who have come to look at it. And

so everything that is well done brings its good. Each statue is a

personal friend of mine--and since I was a boy I have been in love with

the delicious nymph with the shell at the bottom of the horse-shoe

descent before you come to the tapis vert on the right hand side. She

has two dimples in her back--I like to touch them--.

Why did I not come here sooner? I am at peace with the world--Burton

wheels me up onto the terrace every evening to watch the sunset from the

top of the great steps. All the masterpieces are covered with pent

houses of concrete faced with straw, but the lesser gods and goddesses

must take their chance.

And sitting here with peaceful families near me--old

gentlemen--soldiers on leave--a pretty war widow with a great white

dog--children with spades--all watching the glorious sky, seated in

groups on the little iron park chairs, a sense of stupefaction comes

over me--for a hundred or two kilometres away men are killing one

another--women are searching for some trace of their homes--the ground

is teeming with corpses--the air is foetid with the smell of death!

And yet we enjoy the opal sunset at Versailles and smile at the quaint

appearance of the camouflaged bronzes!

Thus custom deadens all painful recollections and so are we able to

live.

I wonder what Louis XIV would say if he could return and be among us?

He, with all his faults being a well bred person, would probably adapt

himself to circumstances, as the Duchesse does.

Suzette suggested that she should come and stay the week end out

here--She wants change of air she says. I have consented.--Miss Sharp

does not bring her eternal block and pencil until Tuesday--when Suzette

will have left.

Now that I am peaceful and have forgotten my perturbations, Suzette will

jolly me up--I have used the right term there!--Suzette does jolly

one--! I feel I could write out here, but not about William and Mary

furniture--! I could write a cynical story of the Duc de Richelieu's

loves.--Armande, the present duc, tells me that he has a dispatch box

filled with the love letters his ancestor received--their preservation

owed to a faithful valet who kept them all separated in bundles tied

with different ribbons--and every lock of hair and souvenir attached to

each.--There is an idea!--I wonder if Burton has ever thought of keeping

mine? He would not have had a heavy job in these last years--!




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