Again, on Sunday, the 27th August, the Chief-President and the Attorney-General were sent for by the King.  He was at Versailles.  As soon as they were alone with him, he took from a drawer, which he unlocked, a large and thick packet, sealed with seven seals (I know not if by this M. du Maine wished to imitate the mysterious book with Seven Seals, of the Apocalypse, and so sanctify the packet).  In handing it to them, the King said:  “Gentlemen, this is my will.  No one but myself knows its contents.  I commit it to you to keep in the Parliament, to which I cannot give a greater testimony of my esteem and confidence than by rendering it the depository of it.  The example of the Kings my predecessors, and that of the will of the King, my father, do not allow me to be ignorant of what may become of this; but they would have it; they have tormented me; they have left me no repose, whatever I might say.  Very well!  I have bought my repose.  Here is the will; take it away:  come what may of it, at least, I shall have rest, and shall hear no more about it.”

At this last word, that he finished with a dry nod, he turned his back upon them, passed into another cabinet, and left them both nearly turned into statues.  They looked at each other frozen by what they had just heard, and still more by what they had just seen in the eyes and the countenance of the King; and as soon as they had collected their senses, they retired, and went to Paris.  It was not known until after dinner that the King had made a will and given it to them.  In proportion as the news spread, consternation filled the Court, while the flatterers, at bottom as much alarmed as the rest, and as Paris was afterwards, exhausted themselves in praises and eulogies.

The next day, Monday, the 28th, the Queen of England came from Chaillot, where she almost always was, to Madame de Maintenon’s.  As soon as the King perceived her, “Madame,” said he to her, like a man full of something and angry, “I have made my will; I have been tormented to do it;” then casting his eyes upon Madame de Maintenon, “I have bought repose; I know the powerlessness and inutility of it.  We can do all we wish while we live; afterwards we are less than the meanest.  You have only to see what became of my father’s will immediately after his death, and the wills of so many other Kings.  I know it well; but nevertheless they have wished it; they gave me no rest nor repose, no calm until it was done; ah, well! then, Madame, it is done; come what may of it, I shall be no longer tormented.”

Words such as these so expressive of the extreme violence suffered by the King, of his long and obstinate battle before surrendering, of his vexation, and uneasiness, demand the clearest proofs.  I had them from people who heard them, and would not advance them unless I were perfectly persuaded of their exactness.