She is magnificent in her expenditure; to be sure she can afford to be so, for her income amounts to 600,000 livres.  Amboise was her jointure, but she preferred Meudon.

She fell sick on the 28th March, 1719.  I went to see her last Sunday, the 23rd May, and found her in a sad state, suffering from pains in her toes and the soles of her feet until the tears came into her eyes.  I went away because I saw that she refrained from crying out on my account.  I thought she was in a bad way.  A consultation was held by her three physicians, the result of which was that they determined to bleed her in the feet.  They had some difficulty in persuading her to submit to it, because the pain in her feet was so great that she uttered the most piercing screams if the bedclothes only rubbed against them.  The bleeding, however, succeeded, and she was in some degree relieved.  It was the gout in both feet.

The feet are now covered with swellings filled with water, which cause her as much pain as if they were ulcers; she suffers day and night.  Whatever they may say, there has been no other swelling of the feet since those blisters appeared. (13th June.)

The swelling has now entirely disappeared, but the pain is greater than before.  All the toes are covered with transparent blisters; she cries out so that she may be heard three rooms off.  The doctors now confess they do not know what the disorder is. (20th June.) The King’s surgeon says it is rheumatic gout. (11th July.) I believe that frequent and excessive bathing and gluttony have undermined her health.  She has two fits of fever daily, and the disease does not abate.  She is not impatient nor peevish; the emetic given to her the day before yesterday causes her much pain; it seems that from time to time rheumatic pains have affected her shoulders without her taking much notice of them.  From being very fat, as she was, she has become thin and meagre.  Yesterday she confessed, and received the communion. (18th July.) She was bled thrice before she took the emetic. (Tuesday, 18th July.) She received the last Sacrament with a firmness which deeply affected her attendants.  Between two and three o’clock this night (19th July) she died.  Her end was a very easy one; they say she died as if she had gone to sleep.  My son remained with her until she lost all consciousness, which was about an hour before her death.  She was his favourite daughter.  The poor Duchesse de Berri was as much the cause of her own death as if she had blown her brains out, for she secretly ate melons, figs and milk; she herself confessed, and her doctor told me, that she had closed her room to him and to the other medical attendants for a fortnight that she might indulge in this way.  Immediately after the storm she began to die.  Yesterday evening she said to me:  “Oh, Madame! that clap of thunder has done me great harm;” and it was evident that it had made her worse.

My son has not been able to sleep.  The poor Duchesse de Berri could not have been saved; her brain was filled with water; she had an ulcer in the stomach and another in the groin; her liver was affected, and her spleen full of disease.  She was taken by night to St. Denis, whither all her household accompanied her corse.  They were so much embarrassed about her funeral oration that it was resolved ultimately not to pronounce one.