The Last Hours of Louis XIV

A scene depicting the death of King Louis XIV, from the 2016 movie The Death of Louis XIV. 

Death came slow and painful for King Louis XIV. He was king for 72 years, longer than any French kings or any other European sovereign who came before and after him. His death was likened to a “Shakespearean tragedy.” On the first week of August, he was still well but on August 10, 1715, after a hunting trip in Marly,  his leg ached and his physician, Fagon,  diagnosed the king with sciatica. The pain endured and black marks started to appear, indicating senile gangrene. The discomfort worsened but he continued with his day-to-day affairs, “unshakeable, to the great admiration of all the courtiers.” By August 25,  the king was too ill to get up and he remained in his bedchamber at Versailles. He died on September 1, 1715, four days before he reached his 77th year. In his memoirs,  Cardinal Guillaume Dubois, dubbed as one of France’s four great cardinal-ministers,  recorded the last hours of King Louis XIV.

I had returned to Versailles with the secret determination of remaining there; and during the King's illness, I frequently communicated to the Duke of Orleans all that was passing. As the fatal moment approached, a strange agitation prevailed among the courtiers. Apprehensions were entertained respecting the death of the Dauphin; doubts about the existence of the King's will; and suspicions of the causes of his Majesty's illness. Everyone listened and talked, wept and smiled, according to his own interest, and his degree of attachment to the King. The aspect of Paris on the contrary, was unchanged. There Louis XIVs death was a matter of indifference. A reign of seventy-two years is rather too long for the French.

One day as I was seated in a retiredcorner of the Gardens, reflecting on whatI was likely to gain or lose by this inevitabledeath, I saw passing near me, theDuke du Maine and the old cripple DeFagon. I sat still, and without beingseen by the interlocutors, I overheard the following conversation.

"How long do you think he may lingerger?" asked the Duke du Maine.

"A month at most," replied Fagon.

"You think there is no chance of his recovery."

"Only a miracle can save him; and if you believe in miracles, I do not. His legs have already mortified."

"Are you sure it is mortification?"

'"He could only be saved by being made to go on crutches like Scarron."

"Ah! Madame de Maintenon would not like that."

They withdrew, continuing their indecorous jesting.

On the 26th, the gangrene was apparent in both the King's legs. That day the most assiduous courtiers showed themselves at the Palais Royal. The King was not aware of the nature of his disease.

Maréchal, his favourite surgeon, informed him of it, and proposed to make some deep and painful incisions; but finding they were useless, he stopped, and his eyes overflowed with tears. What is the matter inquired the King. Why do you hide your face from me and weep? If there is no remedy,let me die in peace. How long do youthink I may yet live?"

"Perhaps till Wednesday next, Sire," replied Maréchal, who could no longer conceal the truth.

"Well, then, I will hold myself in readiness for Wednesday. From this moment I am no longer King." These particulars, which were immediately repeated from mouth to mouth, were communicated to me from various quarters. I related them to the Duke d'Orleans.

Somebody came to inform his Royal Highness that the King wished to see him. This was the second interview. The first had been cold on both sides: Louis XIV.finding himself obliged to speak of the will had carelessly told the Duke d'Orleans, that he was provided for, according to his birthright; and they separated with every indication of mutual embarrassment. This second interview, which I faithfully relate as it was reported to me by the Prince, presents no small degree of interest. The Duke of Orleans found the King alone, sitting up in bed, and arranging some papers in a box. Madame de Maintenon was not present.

"Sire," said the Prince, "is your Majesty better?"

"I am going to appear before God, and for that reason I have sent for you."

"Sire-—"

"Take a seat and listen to me. When I was King, I had the misfortune to suspect you of very odious crimes."

"If you doubted my innocence, Sire, why did you not bring me to trial?"

"Time has cleared away my doubts. I know you are innocent, and I entreat you by the merits of the Divine Saviour to pardon my error."

"Sire I am too happy, since you nowrender me justice."

"Those who are really guilty, will be punished in this world or the next. I am sorry that I have made a will which I cannot now alter; but I will experience the same fate as the will of my honouredfather."

"Sire, may I presume to Sire what are its clauses?"

"I tell you they will never be carried into effect;therefore you need not concern yourself about them. You alone will be Regent of France; and I recommend to you the care of the little Dauphin, in the eyes of God and man."

The King here made a motion which threw open his shirt, and the Duke perceived a scapulary on his breast.

"I wear this,'' said the King," because they tell me that it has power to banish the tempter, and to calm bodily pain. Indeed, I feel quite at ease. The day before yesterday the Cardinal de Roban administered to me the Sacrament and the Extreme Unction. That has given me courage.

Madame de Montespan was wrong in fearing death. But, above all, do not speak of the scapulary of the Jesuits."

"Sire, the Jesuits have done a great deal of mischief in your kingdom,"

"Father le Tellier is much too zealous. I told him so when we were talking of the Bull. Take care that he does not become King's confessor."

"Sire, I shall observe your wishes in all things."

"Have you any idea of employing the Abbe Dubois, that most perverse of men?"

"I shall do only what is agreeable to you. Yet Dubois possesses talent which might be rendered useful."

"First teach him to mend his manners, and then send him abroad on some mission which requires intrigue and address. I advise you to sacrifice everything for the preservation of the peace of Utrecht."

"Sire, I shall follow the course which you have traced out for me."

"Love the Duke du Maine and the Count de Toulouse as your brothers, and respect all the Princes. Your silly Madame de Berri had better retire to a convent; but not among the Carmelites: they are a set of plagues, whom you will do well to banish. Observe towards Madame de Maintenon the respect which you entertained towards me when I was King. She will lose more than you are aware of, in losing me."

"Sire, all hope is not yet extinct. The hand of God may accomplish what man cannot. You may yet live."

"Alas! I have a disease which nothing can cure. It is old age.—I have to impart to you a secret which is known only to God, and to three persons on earth. I wish to deposit it in your bosom; so that if it should come to the knowledge of any other living being, you may close his mouth for ever."

"Sire, you allude to the Iron Mask."

"I do, my son. That is the greatest sin I have to answer for. I abused my sovereign power to inflict upon a man, who was, perhaps, innocent, a lingering torture of forty years. I was blinded by jealousy,and by a perfidious flatterer. I thoughtthe Queen guilty. The Queen! that angelupon earth, who repaid my injustice by her virtues.—Orleans, never repeat what I am about to disclose to you."

" Sire, let me not hear it."

" You must. A secret known to three persons is no longer a secret; and it concerns the honour of your family sufficiently to make yon respect it."

"And who are those three persons, Sire?"

"Madame de Maintenon, Lauzun, and Father Le Tellier. I had him tried, and he was condemned to perpetual imprisonment. The Queen succeeded in liberating him. He fled; but not quick enough to escape my vengeance. I was prompted to shed his blood; but, in compliance with the Queen's entreaties, his life was spared. An iron mask, which was never removed from his face, concealed the unfortunate victim. Fouquet was supposed to be dead—

"Fouquet! Sire."

" At length he died in the Bastile, 1706; but his death did not ease my conscience."

The King shed a torrent of tears; but all the efforts of the Duke of Orleans to learn more were unavailing. To all his entreaties on that subject, Lous XIV replied, "I should offend God, were I to tell you more. It is enough that you know the real name of the man to silence any one who might be inclined to divulge this state secret."

The Duke of Orleans would not, perhaps, have communicated to me this deathbed confession, had not chance made me acquainted with the same secret. I have no doubt that his Royal Highness, in his last conversations with the King, was initiated into many secrets, no less dark and mysterious than that of the Iron Mask.

 The hope of making their fortune tempted several quacks, who offered to save the King, though he was at the last extremity.

 The first was an old man like a hermit, wearing sandals and a long beard. He pretended to have come from the Holy Land for the purpose of working the miracle; but he would not explain his promised remedy, except in the presence of the King. All his power, he said, consisted in a phial containing two drops of blood which had been brought from the Saviour's cross. He would not show to any one the precious relief but said he would make trial of it after the imposition of hands. He was sent to Fagon, who had no more faith in relics than in miracles.

"Certainly Father," said he to the anchorite, "you will be permitted to try your skill; but first let me ascertain that your phial does not contain poison,"

"Good heaven, what an idea! I swear that unless the King is stained with mortal sin—

"I do not doubt the efficacy of your remedy; but still permit me to examine it." The holy man presented to Fagon a bottle sealed with the arms of St, Peter.

"Diable!" exclaimed the Doctor, "your divine blood is terribly black!"

"You must recollect that it has been in the bottle for sixteen centuries."

"The bottle itself is not so old, at any rate, for it looks very much like a church burette," And Fagon, with great sang froid, broke the phial, to the great dismay of the pretended hermit.

"Father," added he, this is not the blood of God; it is nothing but ink."

Father Le Tellier was very indignant at this imposture; and the worker of miracles was sent to the prison of St. Pierre en Seine.

Another empiric, a German Doctor of the faculty of Leipzig, who knew something of chemistry, came, recommended by Madame. He was referred from Madame de Maintenon to Father Le Tellier, then to Fagon, then to Cardinal de Rohan, and to Maréchal. He received only insults and rebuffs. One called him a quack, another a sorcerer; one affirmed that he was mad, and another accused him of being a thief. Maréchal, though convinced that the King could not live more than another day, asked the German what he thought he could do.

"I possess two elixirs" replied he.

"The first will restore the King's appetite; for you know the King has taken no food for this week past. The second will check the progress of the gangrene, and perhaps cure it entirely.

"I have no faith in what you say," said Maréchal, "but there is no harm in trying your remedy."

The King consented to take the first elixir, which certainly appeared to have a wonderful effect. His appetite returned, and he ate as heartily as it he had been in good health. He was even supposed to be out of danger, and the disappointment evinced by the Duke du Maine tended to confirm the report. Wait till to-morrow," said Maréchal doubtfully. Still, however, the account of the King's improvement was repeated, and the poets of the court wrote some thanksgivings in rhyme.  The Duke d'Orleans, who had been besieged by premature congratulatory visits, was now almost deserted for two days.

This mortified him, and he promised to remember it. "If the King eats another hearty meal," said I, " you will be utterly forsaken. Madame de Maintenon, who had retired to St. Cyr, has come back again with renewed hope, and Massillon said to me, with an air of disappointment,  “What a splendid funeral oration I have lost! But we, replied I, have lost much more."

Next day, the German presented himself with the elixir for the gangrene, the door was shut in his face with a thousand threats and imprecations. The King, after having passed a very restless night, had sent for his family, who all hastened to his bedside. The princes and princesses were all assembled, with the exception of the Dowager Madame de Conti, the princess and Madame de Vandome, who pretended illness in order to avoid witnessing the dying moments of Louis XIV. Madame de Maintenon was counting over a chaplet of large beads. The King had given his instructions to the Dauphin, and the Duke d'Orleans. He perceived the Duke du Maine, who kept back, and was laughing in his sleeve. " He to whom is confided the care of the future sovereign,” said the king, in a grave tone of voice " is responsible both to God and man. I beg of you all to watch over the orphan child."

The King's eyes were suffused with tears. "Daughter," said he, to the Duchess d'Orleans," do not abuse your power to the disadvantage of your sisters, who will need support after my death."

"Madame," resumed he, addressing himself to the Duchess du Maine, "be obedient to your husband, who stands much in need of wise and honest advice."

At that moment the Duchess and Madame de Maintenon looked angrily at each other. Louis XIV, continuing has advice to his illegitimate daughters, said," I recommend you above all to be united."

"Yes, Sire," replied Madame, imagining that this observation was addressed to the and Madame de Maintenon.

"Madame", replied the King, "I did not intend that advice for you; I know you are reasonable. I spoke to these princesses who are not so prudent as you."

"Ah! Sire," exclaimed Madame, "spare, me."

"God has pardoned," continued the King, "and Father Le Tellier, to whom I have confessed, has twice given me absolution. I am sure, that you, at least, will not forget me; for when I was King I loved you tenderly, and you have as much virtue as the rest have wickedness."

"Madame,'' interrupted Maintenon, reddening with anger, "go away; this emotion is too much for his Majesty. Go away."

She dragged her out of the room, and then said in it conciliating tone,"Do not suppose, Madame, that I ever said anything to injure you in the King's 'good opinion."

"Oh," replied Madame, sobbing,"all that is out of the question now." She turned round suddenly to go away and stumbled on Fagon, who had just come out of the King's apartment.

"Oh! Madame," said the Doctor, "donot knock me down!"

"How is the King now?" inquired she.

"Dying," he replied, and hastened away.

On the first of September, the gangrene had reached the heart of the King, and he experienced the most excruciating agony. "I think," said he " that a great change has taken place." 

"Sire," replied Fagon, "this crisis may be attended with happy results."

"No. I feel my nerves contracting. Is not this Wednesday, Maréchal."

"Yes, Sire."

"Father," said Louis XIV, "a De profundis, if you please. The Confessor knelt down at the bed side, and every one present did the same.

The King clasped his hands, and joined devoutly in the prayer. Suddenly loud bursts of laughter were heard, and the confessor stopped.

"Go on, I beg," said the King, repressing his indignation but the tears glistened in his eyes. When the De profundis was finished, he sent M. de Villeroi to know who had been laughing so heartily.

When M. de Villeroi returned, the King said "You should have requested Monsieur du Maine to wait till I was dead, before he gave way to such extravagant joy." The entrance of Madame de Maintenon put a period to this gentle reprimand. She remarked the dim eyes of the dying King, and for the first time she felt unfeigned regret.

"Madame," said the King," I thought it was more difficult to die." The bursts of laughter were renewed, Madame de Maintenon changed colour. Some one rose with the intention of checking this indecent merriment, when Louis XIV making an effort to speak, ordered that no notice might be taken of it.

"It is M. du Maine," said he,"though M. de Villeroi dared not say so; but as I am dying, I pardon him; and even if I were not dying, I should still forgive him. The domestics vented their grief in sighs and sobs, and the priests continued praying.

"Why do you weep?" said the King. "Did you think me immortal?"

These were his last words. Madame de Maintenon was removed from the melancholy scene. A convulsive movement terminated the suffering of the royal patient. Maréchal placed his hand on Louis XIV's heart. The prayers stopped for a moment, and the cry" The King is dead!" resounded through the Palace.