The formal renunciation desired by the Choiseul party, in order to humble and annihilate Madame du Barry with solemnity, was no more mentioned.  The grand almoner, in concert with the Archbishop, composed this formula, pronounced in presence of the viaticum:  “Although the King owes an account of his conduct to none but God, he declares his repentance at having scandalised his subjects, and is desirous to live solely for the maintenance of religion and the happiness of his people.”

On the 8th and 9th the disorder grew worse; and the King beheld the whole surface of his body coming off piecemeal and corrupted.  Deserted by his friends and by that crowd of courtiers which had so long cringed before him, his only consolation was the piety of his daughters.—­SOULAVIE, “Historical and Political Memoirs,” vol. i.]

The Comtesse du Barry had, a few days previously, withdrawn to Ruelle, to the Duc d’Aiguillon’s.  Twelve or fifteen persons belonging to the Court thought it their duty to visit her there; their liveries were observed, and these visits were for a long time grounds for disfavour.  More than six years after the King’s death one of these persons being spoken of in the circle of the royal family, I heard it remarked, “That was one of the fifteen Ruelle carriages.”

The whole Court went to the Chateau; the oiel-de boeuf was filled with courtiers, and the palace with the inquisitive.  The Dauphin had settled that he would depart with the royal family the moment the King should breathe his last sigh.  But on such an occasion decency forbade that positive orders for departure should be passed from mouth to mouth.  The heads of the stables, therefore, agreed with the people who were in the King’s room, that the latter should place a lighted taper near a window, and that at the instant of the King’s decease one of them should extinguish it.

The taper was extinguished.  On this signal the Body Guards, pages, and equerries mounted on horseback, and all was ready for setting off.  The Dauphin was with the Dauphiness.  They were expecting together the intelligence of the death of Louis XV.  A dreadful noise, absolutely like thunder, was heard in the outer apartment; it was the crowd of courtiers who were deserting the dead sovereign’s antechamber, to come and do homage to the new power of Louis XVI.  This extraordinary tumult informed Marie Antoinette and her husband that they were called to the throne; and, by a spontaneous movement, which deeply affected those around them, they threw themselves on their knees; both, pouring forth a flood of tears, exclaimed:  “O God! guide us, protect us; we are too young to reign.”

The Comtesse de Noailles entered, and was the first to salute Marie Antoinette as Queen of France.  She requested their Majesties to condescend to quit the inner apartments for the grand salon, to receive the Princes and all the great officers, who were desirous to do homage to their new sovereigns.  Marie Antoinette received these first visits leaning upon her husband, with her handkerchief held to her eyes; the carriages drove up, the guards and equerries were on horseback.  The Chateau was deserted; every one hastened to fly from contagion, which there was no longer any inducement to brave.