The Correspondence of Madame, Princess Palatine, Mother of the Regent; of Marie-Adélaïde de Savoie, Duchesse de Bourgogne; and of Madame de Maintenon, in Relation to Saint-CyrOrléans, Charlotte-Elisabeth, duchesse d'
History
The Correspondence of Madame, Princess Palatine, Mother of the Regent; of Marie-Adélaïde de Savoie, Duchesse de Bourgogne; and of Madame de Maintenon, in Relation to Saint-Cyr
Orléans, Charlotte-Elisabeth, duchesse d'
France -- Court and courtiers; French letters; Maison royale de Saint-Louis (Saint-Cyr l'École, France)
She was delicate in health and even sickly. But Doctor Chirac assured
us until the last that she would recover. And it is true that if
they had not let her get up whilst she had the measles, and had not
bled her in the foot, she would now be living. Immediately after the
bleeding, from being red as fire she became pale as death and felt
extremely ill. When they took her out of her bed I cried out that
they ought to let the sweating subside before they bled her. Chirac
and Fagon were obstinate and only scoffed at me. The old _guenipe_
came up to me and said: "Do you think yourself cleverer than all the
doctors who are here?" I replied, "No, madame, but it does not take
much cleverness to know that we ought to follow nature, and if nature
inclines to sweating it would be better to follow that indication than
to take a sick person up in a perspiration to bleed her." She shrugged
her shoulders and smiled ironically. I went to the other side of the
room and never said another word.
The Maintenon always retained the fire of her eyes; but she pinched
her lips and contracted her nostrils, which gave her the very
disagreeable air she put on when she saw any one who displeased her,
my Excellency for instance; at such times she would raise the corners
of her mouth and drop her under lip. I have often heard her say in a
jesting way, "I have been too far from, and too near grandeur to know
what it is."
PARIS, February 1, 1721.
I grow weaker and can hardly hold my pen, but there is nothing to be
done. I place myself in the hands of God and refer all things to His
will. I think I shall end by drying up, like that tortoise I kept at
Heidelberg in my bedroom. But as long as I live be sure, dear Louise,
that my heart will cherish you.
There is not in all the world a better air than that of Heidelberg,
especially that about the château near my bedroom; nothing finer can
be found. No one understands better than I, dear Louise, what you must
have felt at Heidelberg; I cannot think of it without deep emotion;
but I must not speak of it to-night; it makes me too sad and hinders
me from sleeping.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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