PARIS, Wednesday, January 31, 1680.
It is impossible for me to see your hand-writing without emotion.
I well know the injury writing does you; and though you say the
most affectionate and most amiable things to me possible, I regret
exceedingly the purchase of that pleasure at the expense of your
lungs; I know you are still far from well. You tell me the weather is
extremely mild, and that you do not fatigue yourself, and that you
write less than usual: whence, then, proceeds this obstinacy in your
disorder? You are dumb on that subject, and Montgobert has the cruelty,
though she has the pen in her hand, not to say a single word about it.
What is the rest of the world to me, and what pleasure can I receive
from the account of all the rejoicings at Aix, when I find you are
obliged to go to bed at eight in the evening? “But,” say you, “do you
then wish me to sit up late and fatigue myself?” No, my dearest; God
forbid I should be capable of forming so depraved a wish; but when you
were here, you were not wholly incapable of relishing the sweets of
society. I have at length seen M. de Gordes; he told me, with great
sincerity, that you were in a very feeble state in the boat, and that
you were much better at Aix: but then, with the same simplicity he
assures me, that the air of Provence is too keen, too piercing, and too
drying, in your present condition. When we are in health, nothing is
amiss; but when the lungs are attacked, and we are thin and delicate,
like you, we run the risk of putting it out of our power ever to
recover. Tell me no more that the delicacy of your lungs draws our ages
nearer together. God forbid that the order established by Providence,
so agreeable to nature and reason, and at the same time so dear to me,
should be deranged with respect to us.
I must resume the article of news, which I always suffer to rest
awhile when I get upon the subject of your health. M. de Luxembourg
has been two days without eating; he asked for several Jesuits, but
has been refused every one of them: he asked to have the Lives of the
Saints, and it has been given him; you will see he is at a loss _to
which of the Saints he shall devote himself_. He was interrogated for
four hours on Friday or Saturday, I can not recollect which; after
that his mind appeared much relieved, and he ate some supper. It is
thought he would have done better to have made his innocence take
the field, and to have left word he would return, when his proper
judges[165] should think fit to summon him. He has done a real injury
to the dukedom, in acknowledging the chamber; but he was willing to
yield a blind obedience to the commands of his majesty. M. de Cessac
has followed the example of the countess. Mesdames de Bouillon and De
Tingry were interrogated on Monday at the chamber of the arsenal. Their
noble families attended them to the gate: there is yet no appearance
of blackness in the follies which have been laid to their charge, nor
even so much as a shade of gray. Should nothing further be discovered,
this is a scandal which might very well have been spared, especially
to families of their high quality. Marshal de Villeroy[166] says,
these gentlemen and ladies do not believe in God, though they believe
in the devil. In reality, a great many ridiculous things are related
respecting the private transactions of these abominable women. Madame
de la Ferté, who is so properly named, went out of complaisance (to La
Voisin’s) with the Countess (de Soissons), but did not go up stairs;
M. de Langres accompanied Madame de la Ferté; this is very black;
the circumstance has given her a pleasure not often enjoyed by her,
which is, to hear it said that she is innocent.[167] The Duchess de
Bouillon went to ask La Voisin for a small dose of poison, to kill an
old tiresome husband she had, and a nostrum to marry a young man she
loved. This young man was M. de Vendôme, who led her by one hand, and
M. de Bouillon, her husband, by the other. When a _Mancine_[168] is
guilty only of a folly like this, information is given of it; and these
witches explain it seriously, and shock all Europe with a mere trifle.
The Countess de Soissons asked whether she could not recover a lover
who had deserted her? this lover was a great prince; and it is asserted
that she declared, unless he returned to her, she would make him repent
his ingratitude: that is understood to be the king, and every thing is
of importance that has relation to him; but let us look to the sequel;
if she has committed any greater crime, she has not mentioned it to
these baggages. One of our friends says there is an elder branch of the
poison, to which they never refer, as it is not a native of France.
What we have here, are younger branches only, without shoes to their
feet. La T***[169] gives us to understand there is something of greater
consequence behind, as she was schoolmistress to the novices. She
says, “I admire the world; it really believes I have had children by
M. de Luxembourg.” Alas! God knows whether she has or not; the present
prevailing opinion, however, is in favor of the innocence of the
persons denounced, and a universal horror for the defamers; to-morrow
it may be the reverse. You well know the nature of these general
opinions; I shall give you a faithful account of them; it is the only
subject of conversation here: indeed there is scarcely an example of
such scandal in any court in Christendom. It is said La Voisin put all
the infants, whose abortion she had procured, into an oven; and Madame
de Coulanges, as you may suppose, when speaking of La T***, says, _it
was for her the oven was heating_.
[165] The parliament of Paris.
[166] Nicholas de Neufville, Marshal Duke de Villeroy, father to
the last marshal of that name.
[167] The Amours des Gaules have rendered notorious her
gallantries, which may be called by a term less mild.
[168] Madame de Bouillon, as well as the Countess de Soissons,
was the niece of Cardinal Mazarin. It will be seen that she was
innocent.
[169] Madame de Tingry being named twice in this letter and the
preceding one, is it not probable that she is intended by the
initial T.? She was related to M. de Luxembourg.
I had a long chat yesterday with M. de la Rochefoucault, on a subject
we have already discussed. There is nothing to oblige you to write;
but he entreats you to believe that what could give him the highest
gratification in the world would be to have it in his power to
contribute to your changing the place of your residence, should an
opportunity offer. I never saw so obliging or so amiable a man.
What I am going to tell you, I have heard from good authority. Madame
de Bouillon entered the chamber like a queen, sat down on a chair
placed there on purpose for her, and, instead of answering to the first
question that was asked her, demanded that what she should say might
be taken down in writing; it was, “that her sole reason for coming
there was from the respect she bore to the king’s command, and not in
obedience to the chamber, whose authority she in nowise acknowledged,
as she would not derogate from the privileges of the dukedom.” Every
word was written down. When she took off her glove, she discovered a
very beautiful hand. Her answers were very sincere; those respecting
her age not excepted. “Do you know La Vigoureux?” “No.” “Do you know
La Voisin?” “Yes.” “What reason had you to desire the death of your
husband?” “Desire the death of my husband! ask him whether he believes
a syllable of it. He gave me his hand to the very gate.” “But what was
your reason for so often visiting La Voisin?” “Because I wanted to see
those Sibyls she promised me I should see; a company which certainly
well deserved all this noise and scrutiny.” “Did you not show that
woman a bag of money?” She answered, “I did not, and for more reasons
than one;” and then with a smiling, and at the same time a disdainful
air, “Well, gentlemen, have you done with me?” “Yes, madame.” She rose,
and, as she was going out, said loud enough to be heard, “I really
could not have believed that men of sense would have asked so many
foolish questions.” She was received by all her friends and relations
with adoration, she was so pretty, easy, natural, firm, unconcerned,
and tranquil.[170]
[170] To render this picture complete, it is necessary to cite
another stroke related by Voltaire. “La Reynie, one of the
presidents of this chamber, was so ill-advised as to ask the
Duchess de Bouillon if she had seen the devil. She replied that
she saw him at that moment; that he was very ugly, and very
dirty, and was disguised as a counselor of state. The questioner
proceeded no further.”
La T*** was by no means so cheerful. M. de Luxembourg is perfectly
disconcerted: he is neither a man, nor half a man, nor even a woman,
unless it be a foolish woman. “Shut this window; light a fire; give me
some chocolate; give me that book; I have abandoned God, and God has
abandoned me.” This is the conduct he displayed before Baisemeaux and
his commissaries, with a countenance pale as death. With nothing better
than this to carry to the Bastille, he had better have gained time, as
the king, with infinite goodness, had put into his power to do, till
the very moment before he committed himself; but we must of necessity
have recourse to Providence, in spite of our efforts to the contrary.
It was by no means natural to behave as he has done, weak as he appears
to be.[171] I was misinformed: Madame de Meckelbourg has not seen
him; and La T***, who came with him from St. Germain, never intended,
any more than himself, to give Madame de Meckelbourg the least notice
of it, though he had time enough to have done it if he had been so
inclined; but La T*** kept every one from seeing him, and watched him
so closely, that not a soul came to him but herself. I have been to
see this Meckelbourg at the nunnery of the Holy Sacrament, where she
has retired. She is in great affliction, and complains loudly of La
T***, whom she blames for all her brother’s misfortunes. I made your
compliments to her by way of anticipation, and assured her you would
be extremely grieved to hear of her ill-fortune. She expressed great
regard for you. One might, at this time, do almost what one pleased at
Paris, it would not be noticed.
[171] Madame de Sévigné seems to have adopted, at this moment,
the ridiculous reports spread abroad, in regard to M. de
Luxembourg. But is it to be credited that a soul like his
was capable of such weakness as was laid to his charge? And
does it not rather exhibit the common conduct of envy and
malignity, which, in the life-time of men of the first order, are
incessantly endeavoring to tarnish the luster of their reputation?