Terror of the king--A complication--Filial piety of the princesses--Last interview between madame du Barry and Louis XV--Conversation with the marechale de Mirepoix--The chancellor Maupeou--The fragment--Comte JeanPerhaps no person ever entertained so great a dread of death as Louis XV, consequently no one required to be more carefully prepared for the alarming intelligence so abruptly communicated by La Martiniere, and which, in a manner, appeared to sign the king's death-warrant.
To every person who approached him the despairing monarch could utter only the fatal phrase, "I have the small-pox," which, in his lips, was tantamount to his declaring himself a dead man.
Alas! had his malady been confined to the small-pox, he might still have been spared to our prayers; but, unhappily, a complication of evils, which had long been lurking in his veins, burst forth with a violence which, united to his cruel complaint, bade defiance to surgical or medical skill.
Yet, spite of the terror with which the august sufferer contemplated his approaching end, he did not lose sight of the interests of the nation as vested in the person of the dauphin, whom he positively prohibited, as well as his other grandsons, from entering his chamber or even visiting the part of the chateau he occupied. After this he seemed to divest himself of all further care for sublunary things; no papers were brought for his inspection, nor did he ever more sign any official document.
The next request made by Louis XV was for his daughters, who presented themselves bathed in tears, and vainly striving to repress that grief which burst forth in spite of all their endeavours. The king replied to their sobs, by saying, "My children, I have the small-pox; but weep not. These gentlemen [pointing towards the physicians] assure me they can cure me."But, while uttering this cheerful sentence, his eye caught the stern and iron countenance of La Martiniere, whose look of cool disbelief seemed to deny the possibility of such an event.
With a view to divert her father from the gloom which all at once came over his features, the princess Adelaide informed him that she had a letter addressed to him by her sister, madame Louise.
"Let me hear it," cried the king; "it is, no doubt, some heavenly mission with which she is charged. But who knows?" He stopped, but it was easy to perceive that to the fear of death was added a dread of his well-being in another world. Madame Adelaide then read the letter with a low voice, while the attendants retired to a respectful distance. All eyes were directed to the countenance of the king, in order to read there the nature of its contents; but already had the ravages of his fatal disease robbed his features of every expression, save that of pain and suffering.
The princesses now took their stations beside their parent, and established themselves as nurses, an office which, I can with truth affirm, they continued to fill unto the last with all the devotion of the purest filial piety.
On this same day Louis XV caused me to be sent for. I ran to his bedside trembling with alarm. The various persons engaged in his apartment retired when they saw me, and we were left alone.
"My beloved friend," said the king, 'I have the small-pox; I am still very ill.""Nay, sire," interrupted I, "you must not fancy things worse than they are; you will do well, depend upon it, and we shall yet pass many happy days together.""Do you indeed think so?" returned Louis XV. "May heaven grant your prophecy be a correct one. But see the state in which I now am; give me your hand."He took my hand and made me feel the pustules with which his burning cheeks were covered. I know not what effect this touch of my hand might have produced, but the king in his turn patted my face, pushed back the curls which hung negligently over my brow; then, inclining me towards him, drew my head upon his pillow. I submitted to this whim with all the courage I could assume; I even went so far as to be upon the point of bestowing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. But, stopping me, with a mournful air, he said, "No, my lovely countess; I am no longer myself, but here is a miniature which has not undergone the same change as its unfortunate master."I took the miniature, which I placed with respectful tenderness in my bosom, nor have I ever parted with it since.
This scene lasted for some minutes, after which I was retiring, but the king called me back, seized my hand, which he tenderly kissed, and then whispered an affectionate "Adieu." These were the last words I ever heard from his lips.
Upon re-entering my apartments I found madame de Mirepoix awaiting me, to whom I related all that had taken place, expressing, at the same time, my earnest hope of being again summoned, ere long, to the presence of my friend and benefactor.