Death of Louis XI.

Note. – We beg our readers to refer to the observations we made on these remarkable communications in our article of last March.

Not feeling firm enough to hear the word death pronounced, I had often recommended to my officers that they only say to me, when they saw me in danger: "Speak little," and I would know what that meant. When there was no more hope, Olivier le Daim said to me harshly, in the presence of Francis of Paola and of Coittier: — Majesty, we must discharge ourselves of our duty. Have no more hope in this holy man, nor in any other, for you have reached the end; think of your conscience; there is no more remedy.

At these cruel words, a whole revolution operated within me; I was no longer the same man and I was astonished at myself. The past unrolled rapidly before my eyes and things appeared to me under a new aspect: I know not what strange thing was happening within me. The hard gaze of Olivier le Daim, fixed upon my face, seemed to interrogate me. To withdraw myself from that cold and inquisitorial gaze, I answered with apparent tranquility: — I hope that God will help me; perhaps I am not so ill as you imagine.

I dictated my last wishes and sent to the side of the young king those who still surrounded me. I found myself alone with my confessor, Francis of Paola, le Daim, and Coittier. Francis made me a touching exhortation; with each of his words it seemed that my vices were effaced and that nature resumed its course; I felt relieved and began to recover a little hope in the clemency of God. I received the last sacraments with a firm and resigned piety. I repeated at every instant: "Our Lady of Embrun, n my good Lady, help me!"

Tuesday, the 30th of August, around seven in the evening, I fell into a new prostration; all those who were present, believing me dead, withdrew. Olivier le Daim and Coittier, fearing public execration, remained beside my bed, since they had no other refuge.

Soon I entirely recovered consciousness. I raised myself, sat up in the bed, and looked around me; no one of my family was there; no friendly hand sought mine in that supreme moment, to soothe my agony with a last caress. At that hour, perhaps, my children were amusing themselves, while their father was dying. No one thought that the guilty one might still have a heart that understood his own. I tried to hear a stifled sob, but I heard only the laughter of the two wretches who were beside me. In a corner of the room, I perceived my favorite greyhound bitch n who was dying of old age. My heart trembled with joy: I had a friend, a being who cherished me.

I made a sign to her with my hand; the greyhound dragged herself with difficulty to the foot of my bed and came to lick my agonizing hand. Olivier perceived that movement; cursing, he rose abruptly and struck the unfortunate animal with a stick until she died; as she was dying, my only friend cast me a long and sorrowful look. Olivier pushed me violently onto the bed. I let myself fall and surrendered to God my guilty soul.

[1]

[v. Louis XI.]

[2] [Embrun (Occitan: Ambrun, Latin: Ebrodunum, Ebrudunum, and Eburodunum) is a commune in the Hautes-Alpes department in Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur in southeastern France. — Source ]

[3] [Female greyhound: The greyhound is a type of hunting dog belonging to the family of hounds. — Source ]