I have spoken in its time of the exile of Charmel and its causes, of which the chief was his obstinate refusal to present himself before the King.  The vexation of the King against people who withdrew from him was always very great.  In this case, it never passed away, but hardened into a strange cruelty, to speak within limits.  Charmel, attacked with the stone, asked permission to come to Paris to undergo an operation.  The permission was positively refused.  Time pressed.  The operation was obliged to be done in the country.  It was so severe, and perhaps so badly done, that Charmel died three days afterwards full of penitence and piety.  He had led a life remarkable for its goodness, was without education, but had religious fervour that supplied the want of it.  He was sixty-eight years of age.

The Marechale de la Ferme died at Paris, at the same time, more than eighty years old.  She was sister of the Comtesse d’Olonne, very rich and a widow.  The beauty of the two sisters, and the excesses of their lives, made a great stir.  No women, not even those most stigmatized for their gallantry, dared to see them, or to be seen anywhere with them.  That was the way then; the fashion has changed since.  When they were old and nobody cared for them, they tried to become devout.  They lodged together, and one Ash Wednesday went and heard a sermon.  This sermon, which was upon fasting and penitence, terrified them.

“My sister,” they said to each other on their return, “it was all true; there was no joke about it; we must do penance, or we are lost.  But, my sister, what shall we do?” After having well turned it over:  “My sister,” said Madame d’Olonne, “this is what we must do; we must make our servants fast.”  Madame d’Olonne thought she had very well met the difficulty.  However, at last she set herself to work in earnest, at piety and penitence, and died three months after her sister, the Marechale de la Ferme.  It will not be forgotten, that it was under cover of the Marechale that a natural child was first legitimated without naming the mother, in order that by this example, the King’s natural children might be similarly honoured, without naming Madame de Montespan, as I have related in its place.

CHAPTER LXIV

The Queen of Spain, for a long time violently attacked with the king’s evil around the face and neck, was just now at the point of death.  Obtaining no relief from the Spanish doctors, she wished to have Helvetius, and begged the King by an express command to send him to her.  Helvetius, much inconvenienced, and knowing besides the condition of the Princess, did not wish to go, but the King expressly commanded him.  He set out then in a postchaise, followed by another in case his own should break down, and arrived thus at Madrid on the 11th of February, 1714.  As soon as he had seen the Queen, he said there was nothing but a miracle could save her.  The King of Spain did not discontinue sleeping with her until the 9th.  On the 14th she died, with much courage, consciousness, and piety.