PARIS, Friday, February 23, 1680.
Indeed, my child, this has been a very pretty week for the Grignans;
should Providence favor the elder brother in proportion as it has the
younger, we might soon expect to see him in a charming situation.
In the mean time, I think it no disagreeable thing to have brothers
in such favor. The chevalier had scarcely returned thanks for his
pension of a thousand crowns, when he was chosen, out of eight or ten
persons of quality and merit, to be an attendant upon the dauphin,
with a salary of two thousand crowns; so here are appointments to the
value of nine thousand livres a year, in the space of three days. He
immediately went back to Saint Germain with his second acknowledgments,
for it seems he had been appointed in his absence, while he was here
in Paris. His personal merit has greatly contributed to this choice.
His distinguished reputation, his strict honor and probity, and the
regularity of his conduct, have been remarked; and it is the general
opinion, that his majesty could not have made a better choice.
There are but eight persons named yet, Dangeau, D’Antin, Clermont,
Sainte-Maure, Matignon, Chiverni, Florensac, and Grignan.[176] The last
is universally approved. Permit me, then, to pay my compliments of
congratulation to M. de Grignan, the coadjutor, and yourself.
[176] These were afterward reduced to six, viz., MM. Dangeau,
D’Antin, Saint-Maure, Chiverni, Florensac, and Grignan.
My son sets out to-morrow; he has read the reproaches you make him.
Possibly the charms of the court he wishes to leave, and where he has
so handsome an establishment, will make him change his opinion. We have
prevailed on him not to be in a hurry, but to wait quietly till he
meets with the temptation of a greater sum than he gave.
You have given me a specimen of M. de Grignan’s joy by my own,
in hearing that you are better. As your complaints are no longer
continual, I am in great hopes that, by taking care of yourself, using
a milk diet, and giving up writing, you will in the end restore my
daughter to me as lovely as ever.
I am charmed with Montgobert’s sincerity. Had she always written me
word you were well, I should never have given credit to her. She has
managed the whole business to a miracle, and has won my heart by her
candor; so natural is it for us to love not to be deceived. May Heaven
preserve you, my dear, in this prosperous state! which gives us all
such flattering hopes. But to return to the Grignans, for we seem
to have forgotten them. Nothing else is talked of here. Nothing but
complimenting passes in this house; one has scarcely done when another
begins. I have not seen either of them since the chevalier has been
made a lady of honor, as M. de Rochefoucault calls it. He will write
you all the news much better than I can possibly do. It is supposed
that Madame de Soubise will not be one of the traveling party. See
how long my letter is growing! Well, I will only mention La Voisin’s
affair, and conclude.
She was not burned on Wednesday, as I wrote you word; the sentence
was not executed till yesterday. She knew her fate on the Monday, a
very extraordinary circumstance! In the evening, she said to those who
guarded her, “What! no medianoches!” She ate with them at midnight out
of whim, for it was no fast-day, drank plentifully of wine, and sang
several drinking songs. On Monday she received the question ordinary
and extraordinary. She had now dined, and slept nearly eight hours. She
was confronted while under the torture with Mesdames de Dreux and Le
Feron, and several more. Her answers have not yet transpired, but every
one expects to hear strange things. She supped in the evening, and,
lacerated and disjointed as she was, gave a loose to her excess, to the
disgust of every one present. They endeavored to make her sensible of
her ill conduct, and that she would be much better employed in thinking
of God, and singing devout hymns, than such songs; upon which she sang
a psalm or two in mockery, and then fell asleep. Wednesday was spent
in the like confronting, drinking, and singing; she absolutely refused
to let a confessor come near her. In short, on the Thursday, that is,
yesterday, they denied her all kinds of food, excepting only a little
broth, of which she complained greatly, seeming to be apprehensive that
she should not have strength to carry her through the business of the
day.
She came from Vincennes to Paris in a coach; she seemed embarrassed,
and as if she wished to conceal what she felt. They would have had her
confess, but she would not hear of it. At five o’clock she was bound
and set on the sledge, dressed in white, with a taper in her hand. She
was extremely red in the face, and was seen to push away the confessor
and the crucifix with great violence. Madame de Chaulnes, Madame de
Sully, the Countess (De Fiesque), myself, and several others, saw her
pass by the Hôtel de Sully. When she came to the Church of Notre-Dame,
she refused to pronounce the amende-honorable; and at the Grêve, she
struggled with all her might to prevent their taking her out of the
sledge; she was, however, dragged out by main force, and made to sit
down on the pile, to which she was bound by iron chains, and then
covered over with straw. She swore prodigiously, and pushed away the
straw five or six times: but at length the fire increased, she sunk out
of sight, and her ashes are by this time floating in the air. This is
the end of Madame Voisin, celebrated for her crimes and her impiety.
One of the judges, to whom my son happened to mention his surprise at
persons being burned alive in a slow fire, made answer: “My dear sir,
there are some indulgences granted to the women in favor of their sex.”
“How, pray sir? are they strangled?” “No, sir; they are covered with
faggots, and the executioner tears off their heads with iron hooks.” So
you see, my child, this is not so dreadful as we have been told it was.
How do you find yourself after this little story? It made my blood run
cold in my veins.