PARIS, Friday, July 17, 1676.
At length it is all over: La Brinvilliers is in the air; after her
execution her poor little body was thrown into a large fire, and her
ashes dispersed by the wind, so that whenever we breathe, we shall
inhale some particles of her, and by the communication of the minute
spirits, we may be all infected with the desire of poisoning, to our
no small surprise. She was condemned yesterday; and this morning her
sentence was read to her, which was to perform the _amende honorable_
in the church of Notre-Dame; and, after that, to have her head cut
off, her body burned, and her ashes thrown into the air. They were for
giving her the question, but she told them there was no occasion for
that, and that she would confess every thing; accordingly, she was till
five o’clock in the evening relating the history of her life, which
has been more shocking than was even imagined. She gave poison to her
father ten times successively, but without effect, and also to her
brother, and several others, at the same time preserving the appearance
of the greatest love and confidence. She has said nothing against
Penautier. Notwithstanding this confession, they gave her the question,
ordinary and extraordinary, the next morning; but this extorted nothing
more from her. She desired to speak with the procurator-general: no
one yet knows the subject of their conversation. At six o’clock she
was carried in a cart, with no other covering than her shift, and with
a cord round her neck, to the church of Notre-Dame, to perform the
_amende honorable_; after which, she was put again into the same cart,
where I saw her extended on a truss of straw, with a confessor on one
side, and the hangman on the other; indeed, my child, the sight made
me shudder. Those who saw the execution say she mounted the scaffold
with great courage. I was on the bridge of Notre-Dame, with the good
d’Escars; never was Paris in such commotion, nor its attention so fixed
upon one event. Yet, ask many people what they saw, and they will tell
you they saw no more than I did, who was not present; in short, the
whole day has been dedicated to this tragedy.