An English traveler once wrote in his travel diary in 1785: "Forever happy—such is the nature of France."
In France, happiness was the only theme of social life, because it was the only way to please noblewomen.
If she was talented, praise her diligence and dedication. If she was beautiful, praise her delicate skin and flute-like voice. If she cared about etiquette, praise her graceful gait and effortless poise. If age had taken her youth and she was no longer as alluring as young girls, praise her fashionable clothes. If she had a witty mind, guess an exaggerated age; she would laugh and say, "Wrong," then give the clever little rascal a small reward.
Pleasure refreshed the spirit. In the same setting, among the same circle, whenever people gathered with nothing to do, they would devise ways to entertain themselves. Sometimes they arranged a small hunt, sometimes a Bal Masqué, or staged a pastoral play in a little theater. Yet the sun there was bright candles, the sky an exquisitely painted ceiling, fans rustled as they opened and swayed gently in lovely hands, and waves of perfume spread through the air.
Not all of it was for tender flirtation. The language of fans, brought from the Spanish court, expressed her true thoughts. She might smile sweetly at you while telling you with her fan to leave.
All of this was a feast for the eyes and mind, and there were real feasts as well. Wine flowed from fountains like water, and untouched jam was thrown out the windows merely because it did not suit some wife's or mistress's taste.
When an excursion party pitched its tents beside a stream or at some pleasant spot, peasants would soon gather around. To make everyone happy, the peasants could receive a piece or