The Scandalous Conduct of the Comte de Saint-Vallier

The nobility sought to have their marriages sanctioned by the king - while they did not legally need the king's permission, woe be to him who married in spite of the king's wishes! Such an act would attract the king's wrath which was tantamount to career suicide.

Consequently, when Pierre-Félix de la Croix de Chevrières, Comte de Saint-Vallier wished to marry Mademoiselle de Rouvroy, he sought the king's permission - and got it. Saint-Vallier had purchased the post of Captain of the Garde de la Porte while Mademoiselle de Rouvroy served as a fille d'honneur to the queen. Besides the king's official blessing, the bridegroom was also given 1.675 francs in a brevet de retenue as well as a pension of 6.000 francs. It would appear that the Comte de Saint-Vallier was in financial troubles which caused him to borrow 10.000 écus from his future mother-in-law. So far, so good, but the affair was about to turn scandalous.

No sooner had the captain borrowed money from Madame de Rouvroy before he sent her a promise of that very sum - and promptly disappeared.

Naturally, Monsieur and Madame de Rouvroy were furious, their daughter embarrassed and the king indignant. When Louis XIV was informed, he is said to have uttered: "It is all very well that M. de Saint-Vallier should make a mockery of M. and Madame de Rouvroy, but I will not accept him making a fool of me". Following that he issued an ultimatum to the runaway groom: return and marry the young Mademoiselle or go into exile, relinquish your post and have the acquisition of that title taxed. 

The young captain was not the only one who risked feeling the brunt of the royal disfavour. His father was the President of the Parlement in Grenoble and had initially refused to give his blessing to the match. While he eventually came around, the actions of his son might have made him wish that he never changed his mind.

While Saint-Vallier dithered, the courtiers amused themselves by making witty couplets on the occasion:

Ӄpouse, ou bien nՎpouse pas,

De ta charge il te faut défaire;

Une femme, avec tant d’appas

Donne au logis assez d’affaire;

Renonce à la porte du Roi,

Et te fais portier de chez toi”

(”To marry or not marrying,

Of your charge, you must relinquish,

A woman with so many charms,

Gives the home enough concern,

Renounce the king’s gate

And guard your own”)

The couplet indicate that the young Mademoiselle de Rouvroy was somewhat careless with her favours. Indeed, she had been dismissed from the queen's service - along with several other ladies - and was rumoured to have been one of the king's minor dalliances. This could very well explain why Louis XIV agreed to sign their marriage contract - and why the President was unwilling to give his consent. The dismissal was not due to personal misconduct though, it was the work of Madame de Montespan who feared that the king might find solace amongst the queen's younger attendants. Even so, the favourite's intrigues does not appear to have been completely successful as Mademoiselle de Rouvroy appears to have been the king's bedfellow for a brief period in 1681.

Mademoiselle de Rouvroy was considered to be one of the beauties of the court. Both Saint-Simon and Primi Visconti describes her as a great beauty. Undoubtedly, this and her lineage helped her to quickly gain new employment. She was placed as fille d'honneur to the new Madame, Elizabeth of the Palatinate, before marrying the Comte de Saint-Vallier.

Eventually, there was little doubt as to the outcome. In an absolute monarchy, it was all but impossible for a nobleman to thrive while in the king's bad graces. Pierre-Félix saw some sense and must have returned to his charming lady. We know that the couple married between 13 June and 10 July 1675 since Madame de Sévigné first mentions the scandal in a letter to her daughter of 12 June and finally tells of the couple's marriage in that of 10 July 1675.

Thus ended the unusually dramatic preparations for the marriage of the Comte and Comtesse de Saint-Vallier.

The End of Louis XV

In the last days of April 1774, Louis XV returned from Petit Trianon with a few members of his inner circle, including Madame du Barry. Over the following days, the king began complaining of feeling unwell but nevertheless continued on his usual hunting trips. However, by the 28th April the king was still ill, so his First Doctor was summoned. On the doctor's orders, the king was removed back to Versailles.

Once returned to his gilded palace, the king was placed on a camp-bed in his own bedchamber. Usually, he would be surrounded by a throng of ambitious courtiers but on this day they had been replaced by bickering doctors. These men of science could not agree on the diagnosis - and consequently on how to treat him. After almost an entire day of arguing back and forth, they decided on their usual course of action: blood-letting. 

The king was first bled on the 29th April in the morning. Not long after, at around 10.30, it became apparent that the king was suffering from smallpox. Smallpox was a very common disease in the 18th century but was no less deadly for that. Louis XV had never been exposed to smallpox before and as such had not developed immunity from the disease. When the news inevitably seeped out through the bedchambers' walls, the courtiers' reactions were mixed. Some were rather relieved; after all, since smallpox was so well-known, it was thought that the doctors could cure the king of it. Others, on the other hand, were concerned at both the king's age and his lack of immunity to the disease.

Amongst themselves, the courtiers immediately took to scheming according to their own advantages. Madame du Barry's supporters were insisting that the disease was not something to worry about; they absolutely refused that the king should have need of the last rites. On the other hand, the Duc de Choiseul and his supporters were pressing for the Grand Almoner to be summoned at once - not because they were particularly concerned about the king's disease, but rather because if the king received the last sacrament, then he would have to send away Madame du Barry.

The next days were particularly unpleasant for the king. His fever grew worse as did his headaches. As if this was not bad enough, his body soon began to break out into the tell-tale pustules of smallpox. Still, by the 1 May his condition did not worsen which led to some hope for his medical entourage. As the pus was lanced from his body, Louis seemed to get better. While the king's health was wavering, he summoned Madame du Barry on the 4 May. By this point, the king must have known that he was likely not going to recover because he took formal leave of his mistress - while declaring that he would not repeat the scenes after Metz. By these words, the young woman was made perfectly clear that she should not expect to be called back if the king recovered.

Meanwhile, the doctors were waiting for the decisive point in the disease which came about a week later. On 8 May, the symptoms suddenly reappeared - and worse than before. The fever grew higher while the king's pulse was abnormally fast; it also became impossible to lance his pustules. It is hardly a wonder that the king became delirious at this point. While the doctors were scrambling to save him, it quickly became evident that the king was going to die.

The king was not quite alone in his demise. The Abbé Maudoux, the king's confessor, remained with him which caused the Abbé to also catch smallpox (he eventually recovered). The two had many conversations during the king's illness. His daughters, Mesdames Adélaide, Victoire and Sophie, were with him too. Although the doctors urged the royal princesses to withdraw to avoid contagion, they refused and shut themselves up with the king. It should be said that none of the women had ever had smallpox themselves and thus risked their very lives by attending to their dying father. 

The disease was - and is - extremely contagious. Fifty people in the palace caught the disease; it was said that they had caught it by merely walking in the Hall of Mirrors.

The remaining pustules turned black while the pustules in his throat become so sore that he could no longer swallow. It was a terrible sight to behold. The man who had long been considered the handsomest man at his own court had been turned into a hideous effigy of himself. Finally, the doctors admitted defeat and sent for the king's Grand Almoner who administered the last rites. While the king was definitely ill, he was not quite motionless. When the priest arrived, the king - albeit with difficulty - managed to get out of his bed himself and kneel to receive his final sacrament. Once the king had received that, the official repentance was read aloud. This was done by the Grand Almoner who formally asked pardon on the king's behalf for any wrongs he might have done.

By 10 April, the king was still conscious - although he might have wished it otherwise. He did not move and by around 11 o'clock, it was clear that the king's end was near. Due to the risk of contagion, a signal had been agreed upon, to announce the king's death. A candle was placed in the window which was to be blown out at the moment of death. At a quarter past three in the afternoon, the candle was finally extinguished.

While the courtiers rushed to congratulate the new king and queen, the corpse of the newly deceased king had already begun til rot. Due to the condition of the king's body - caused both by the disease and the useless remedies administered by the doctors - the decomposition was fairly swift to set in. Many refused to enter the chamber until finally a few did - all died not long after. This caused the doctors to refuse to embalm the king's body as was otherwise custom for a dead monarch; he would be the only Bourbon king not to be embalmed. Thus, Louis XV's remains were swiftly taken from Versailles to his grave in Saint-Denis without much pomp.