Louis at last learnt to appreciate the merits of the most virtuous and wisest man in his kingdom. His misfortunes, and the deaths, one after the other, of all his posterity, softened his heart; added to this, the death of Fénélon's pupil took away the sting of envy; he no longer feared that he should be surpassed in glory and good by his successor; and he could love the teacher of those virtues, which existed no longer in the person of his grandson to eclipse his own. That such unworthy motives might actuate him, is proved by his act of burning all the papers and letters of Fénélon which were found among the effects of the duke of Burgundy after his death. Fénélon requested the duke de Beauvilliers to claim them, who made the request to madame de Maintenon. She replied: "I was desirous of sending you back all the papers belonging to you and M. de Cambray; but the king chose to burn them himself. I confess that I am truly sorry; nothing so beautiful or so good was ever written. If the prince whom we lament had some faults, it was not because the counsels given him were feeble, or because he was too much flattered. We may say, that those who act uprightly are never put to confusion." But though the king indulged a mean spirit in destroying these invaluable papers, the reading them led him to esteem the writer. Accordingly, he often sent to consult him, and was about to recall him to court, when the fatal event arrived, which robbed the world of him. We are told also that the pope, Clement XI., had destined for him a cardinal's hat. At the beginning of 1715 Fénélon fell ill of an inflammation of the chest, which caused a continual fever. It lasted for six days and a half, with extreme pain. During this period he gave every mark of patience, gentleness, and firmness. There were no unmanly fears, nor unchristian negligence. On the fifth day of his illness he dictated a letter to the confessor of the king, declaratory of his inviolable attachment to his sovereign, and his entire acquiescence in the condemnation of his book. He made two requests, both relating to his diocese: the one, that a worthy successor, opposed to jansenism, should be given him; the other regarded the establishment of his seminary. From this time he appeared insensible to what he quitted, and occupied only by the thought of what he was going to meet. He passed his last hours surrounded by his friends, and particularly by his beloved nephew, the marquis de Fénélon[116]; and breathed his last without a pang.