In the year 1696, when Ninon had reached eighty, she had several attacks of illness which worried her friends exceedingly.  The Marquis de Coulanges writes:  “Our amiable l’Enclos has a cold which does not please me.”  A short time afterward he again wrote:  “Our poor l’Enclos has a low fever which redoubles in the evening, and a sore throat which worries her friends.”  These trifling ailments were nothing to Ninon, who, though growing feeble, maintained her philosophy, as she said:  “I am contenting myself with what happens from day to day; forgetting to-day what occurred yesterday, and holding on to a used up body as one that has been very agreeable.”  She saw the term of her life coming to an end without any qualms or fear.  “If I could only believe with Madame de Chevreuse, that by dying we can go and talk with all our friends in the other world, it would be a sweet thought.”

Madame de Maintenon, then in the height of her power and influence, had never forgotten the friend of her youth, and now, she offered her lodgings at Versailles.  It is said that her intention was to enable the king to profit by an intimacy with a woman of eighty-five years who, in spite of bodily infirmities, possessed the same vivacity of mind and delicacy of taste which had contributed to her great renown, much more than her personal charms and frailties.  But Ninon was born for liberty, and had never been willing to sacrifice her philosophical tranquility for the hope of greater fortune and position in the world.  Accordingly, she thanked her old friend, and as the only concession she would grant, consented to stand in the chapel of Versailles where Louis the Great could pass and satisfy his curiosity to see once, at least, the astonishing marvel of his reign.

During the latter years of her life, she took a fancy to young Voltaire, in whom she detected signs of future greatness.  She fortified him with her counsel, which he prayed her to give him, and left him a thousand francs in her will to buy books.  Voltaire attempted to earn the money by ridiculing the memory of his benefactress.

At the age of ninety years, Mademoiselle de l’Enclos grew feebler every day, and felt that death would not be long coming.  She performed all her social duties, however, until the very end, refusing to surrender until compelled.  On the last night of her life, unable to sleep, she arose, and at her desk wrote the following verses: 

“Qu’un vain espoir ne vienne point s’offrir,
Qui puisse ebranler mon courage;
Je suis en age de mourir;
Que ferais-je ici davantage?”

(Let no vain hope now come and try,
My courage strong to overthrow;
My age demands that I shall die,
What more can I do here below?)

On the seventeenth of October, 1706, she expired as gently as one who falls asleep.

LETTERS

OF

Ninon de L’ENCLOS