Translated from Récits d’une tante: mémoires de la comtesse de Boigne née d’Osmond (Paris : Emile-Paul frères, 1921), pp. 55-56.

(p. 55) The King went to his coucher. What they called the coucher took place every evening at half past nine.

The gentlemen of the court assembled in the bedroom of Louis XIV (which was not the one where Louis XVI actually slept). I believe that all those who had been presented at court were permitted to attend. The king came in from an adjoining room, followed by his domestics. His hair was in curlers, and he was not wearing (p. 56) his decorations. Without paying attention to anybody, he stepped behind the handrail surrounding the bed; one of the valets gave the chaplain on duty the prayer book and a tall taper stand with two candles. The chaplain then followed the king behind the handrail, handed him the book, and held the taperstand during the king’s prayer, which was short. The king then returned to the part of the room where the courtiers stood, and the chaplain gave the taperstand back to the first valet who next took it to a person indicated by the king, to hold it as long as the coucher lasted. This distinction was very much sought after. Hence, in all the salons of the court, the first question asked of persons coming back from the coucher was: “Who had the taper holder?” The choice as always and everywhere, rarely met with approval.

The king had his coat, vest, and finally shirt removed. He remained naked to the waist, scratching and rubbing himself as if alone, though he was in the presence of the whole court and often a number of distinguished foreigners. The first valet handed the nightshirt to the most qualified person; to the princes of the blood, if any were present, for this was a right and not a favor. If it was a person with whom the king was on familiar terms, he often played little tricks before putting it on, going round the side of it, running away and having it follow him, accompanying this charming nonsense with loud laughter, making those who were sincerely attached to him suffer. Having donned the nightshirt, he put on his robe; three valets unfastened his belt and the knee buckles of his trousers, which fell down to his feet. It was thus attired, hardly able to walk so absurdly encumbered, that he began to make the round of the circle.

The duration of this reception was by no means fixed; sometimes it lasted only a few minutes, sometimes almost an hour; it depended on who was there. If there was no ‘sparkers’, as the courtiers among themselves called those who could make the king talk, it lasted hardly more than ten minutes. One of the most skilful of the sparkers was the Comte de Coigny: he was always careful to find out what the king was reading at the time and always managed to steer the conversation to a subject where he thought the king would be able to shine. Hence, he often was given the taperstand, and his presence displeased those who hoped the coucher would be short.

When the king had enough, he dragged himself backward to an arm chair which had been brought forward into the middle of the room, allowing himself to fall heavily into it, raising both legs. Two pages of their knees simultaneously seized his shoes, took them off, and dropped them on the floor with a thump, which was part of the etiquette. The moment he heard it, the doorman opened the door and said, “This way, gentlemen.” Everybody left, and the ceremony was over. However, the person who held the taperstand could stay if he had anything particular to say to the king. This explains the high price attached to this strange favor.