he had confessed he would have to say a last goodbye to her, for only thus could he receive remission of his sins; and all the time he must have been hoping that he would recover and be able to send for her to come back to him.
But in the early morning of the 7th of May the King’s condition worsened so much that he decided to send for a priest.
From my windows I could see that the people of Paris had come to Versailles in their thousands. They wanted to be on the spot at the moment when the King died. I turned shuddering from the window; to me it seemed such a horrible sight, for sellers of food and wine and ballads were camping in the gardens and it was more like a holiday than a sacred occasion. The Parisians were too realistic to pretend that they were mourning; they were rejoicing because the old reign was passing and they hoped for so much from the new.
In the King’s apartments the Abbe Maudoux waited upon him; I heard the remark passed that it was the first time for over thirty years when he had been installed as the King’s confessor that he had been called to duty. In all that time the King had had no time for confession. How, it was asked, will Louis XV ever be able to recount all his sins in time?
I wished that I could have been with my grandfather then. I should have liked to tell him how much his kindness had meant to me. I would have told him that I should never forget our first meeting in Fontainebleau when he had behaved so charmingly to a frightened little girl. Surely such kindness would be in his favour; and although he had lived scandalously, none of those who had shared his debauchery had been forced to do so, and many had been fond of him. Madame du Barry had shown by her conduct not merely that he was her protector but that she loved him. She had left him now, not because she feared his disease but in order f to save his soul.
News was brought to our apartment of what was happening in the chamber of death. I heard that when the Cardinal de la Roche Aymon entered in full canonicals bringing with him the Host, my grandfather took his nightcap from his head and tried in vain to kneel in the bed, for he said:
“If my God deigns to honour such a sinner as I am with a visit, I must receive him with respect.”
Poor Grandfather, who had been supreme all his life a King from five years old now would be denuded of all his worldly glory and forced to face one who was a greater King than he could ever have been.
But the high dignitaries of the Church would not allow absolution merely in return for a few muttered words. This was no ordinary sinner; this was a King who had openly defied the laws of the Church and he must make public avowal of his sins; only thus could they be forgiven.
There was a ceremony in which we must all take part that his soul might be saved. We formed a procession, led by the Dauphin and myself with Provence, Artois, and their wives following us. We all carried lighted candles and followed the Archbishop from the chapel to the death chamber, lighted tapers in our hands, solemn expressions on our faces, and in my heart, and that of the Dauphin at least, a sorrow and a great dread.
We stood outside the door but the aunts went inside; we could hear the tones of the priests and the King’s responses; and we could see through the open door that Holy Viaticum was being given to him.
The Cardinal de la Roche Aymon then came to the door and said to all who were assembled outside:
“Gentlemen, the King instructs me to tell you that he asks God’s pardon for his of fences and the scandalous example be has set his people, and that if his health is restored to him he will devote himself to repentance, to religion, and the welfare of his people.”
As I listened I knew that the King had given up all hope of life, for while he lived he would cling to Madame du Barry, and what he had said meant that he had dismissed her for the time that was left to him.
I heard him say in a slurred voice so different from the clear and musical tones which had enchanted me on my arrival:
I wish I had been strong enough to say that myself
That was not the end. It would have been better if it had been. But there were a few days of horror left. My fastidious grandfather ! I hope he did not know what happened to the handsome body which had once charmed so many. Putrefaction set in before death and I heard that the stench from the bedchamber was horrible. Servants who must wait on him retched and fainted in that room of horror. His body was blackened and swollen, but he could not die.
Adelaide and her sisters refused to leave him. They performed the most menial tasks; they were with him throughout the days and nights, and they were on the verge of exhaustion, but still they would not allow anyone to take their places.
My husband and I were not permitted to go near the sickroom, but we must remain at Versailles until the King was dead.
As soon as he expired we should leave Versailles with all speed, for the place was a hotbed of infection. Already some of the people who had crowded in the Oeil du Boeuf when the King had been brought over from the Trianon had taken sick and died. In the stables everything was c? ready for us. We were to leave for Choisy the moment the King died; but etiquette insisted that we be at Versailles until that moment. In one of the windows a candle was burning; and this was meant to be a signal. When the flame was snuffed out that would be a sign to all that the King’s life was over. i) My husband had taken me to a small room and there we y sat in silence. ‘:j Neither of us spoke. He had imbued me with his sense of foreboding. He had always been serious, but never quite so much as at this time. And then suddenly as we sat there we heard a great tumult. We half rose, looking at each other. We had no idea what it could be. There were voices—raised, shouting, it seemed—and this overwhelming clamour. The door was flung open suddenly. People were running in, surrounding us.
Madame de Noailles was the first to reach me. She knelt and taking my hand kissed it.
She was calling me: “Your Majesty.”
Now I understood; I felt the tears rushing to my eyes. The King was dead; my poor Louis was King of France and I was the Queen.
They pressed in on us as though it were a joyful occasion. Louis turned to me and I to him.
He took my hand and spontaneously we knelt together.
We are too young,” he whispered; and we seemed to be praying together:
“Oh God, guide us, protect us. We are too young to govern!“
Flattery and Reprimands
I marvel at the design of Pate which has chosen me, the youngest of your daughters, to be Queen of the finest Kingdom in Europe.
You are both so young and the burden which has been placed on your shoulders is very heavy. I am distressed that this should be so.
“Petite Reine de vingt ans, Vous, qui traites si mal les gens, Vous repasserez la barriere …”
As soon as the King was dead there was no reason why anyone should remain any longer at Versailles. Our carriage had been waiting for days so there was nothing to delay us. We were to leave at once for Choisy.
The aunts, in view of the fact that they had been in close contact with the late King and were therefore undoubtedly infectious, were to live in a house by themselves as it was considered of the greatest importance that my husband should remain in good health.
We were all very solemn as we rode away from Versailles. In our carriage were Provence and Artois with their wives, and we said very little. I kept reminding myself that I should never see my grandfather again and that
