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Welcome to Noble Blood, a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Menke. Listener discretion advised. In one of the earliest episodes of this podcast, episode nine to be exact, I told you the story of Marie Madeleine d', Aubray, the Marquise de Brinvilliers, and her collection of poisons. As a refresher, the Marquise learned the art of poison from her lover, Gaudin de Saint Croix, who had himself been taught by a fellow prisoner during a three month stay in the Bastille, an imprisonment which had been thanks to Marie's angry, powerful father. It was a little twisty and complicated. Upon the death of St. Croix, police found a collection of incriminating letters and notes that gave them reason to believe that the deaths of Marie's father and her two brothers may not have been as natural as the coroners had concluded at the time. The Marquis fled the country, but was soon captured and arrested under the threat of torture. She admitted to having poisoned her father and brothers, as well as having attempted to poison her sister in law and her husband. Her motive? Well, possibly revenge. But also she claimed she had done it to ensure the futures of herself and her children after her father only left the family fortune to the male line of succession. Three deaths and two attempts were confirmed. But it's of the popular belief that Marie initially tested her poisons on the patients at the hospital where she regularly volunteered, potentially leaving a trail of countless unfortunate victims. The Marquise de Brinvilliers was publicly beheaded and burned on July 16, 1676. A contemporary account reads, never has Paris seen such crowds of people. Never has the city been so aroused, so intent on a spectacle. If it was a spectacle Paris wanted from the execution, it was a spectacle Paris would get. Out of so many guilty people. Must I be the only one put to death? The Marquis ominously asked before her execution. Half the well born people are involved and I could ruin them if I were to talk. The trial and beheading of the Marquis was, as she implied, only the beginning, the first domino to fall in a brief but fascinating period of French history known as the Affair of the Poisons. As summed up a little glibly by the famed memoirist St. Simon. It seems that there are, at certain moments, crimes which become the fashion, like clothes. Poisoning was a la mode at the time. Despite. Despite the Marquis's oblique reference, she refused to name names before her death. The nobility, including Louis XIV himself, quickly realized they had cause to fear. After all, if a noble, and a noble woman at that, was capable of murder using such methods, who else among them had dirtied their hands? In the words of the Parisian chief of police, Gabriele Nicolas de la Reynie, who could have predicted that a woman raised in an honorable family with a seemingly gentle nature was capable of such premeditation and such a litany of crimes? The King appointed La Reynie to uncover the Parisian underbelly of blood, black magic and poisons. But King Louis would be surprised to learn just how close to home the investigation would take the chief today, six years later. Oh, my goodness. I would like to pick up where we left off in the Affair of the Poisons. After the death of the Marquise de Brinvilliers, I would like to tell you the story of the sorceress known as La Voisin and the King's mistress, Madame de Montespan. The story of their lives, their crimes, and the very different outcomes of their unmaskings. This is the story of black masses, of love potions, of literal witch hunts, of court intrigue, and, of course, of poisons. I'm Dana Schwartz, and this is noble blood. The arrest and execution of the Marquise de Brinvilliers in 1676 was an omen of what was to come. But it was the following year, marked by the 1677 arrest of a far less powerful woman named Madeleine de la Grange, that historians Consider the true beginning of the affair of the poisons. Though she would be La Reynie's first lead into the dark underground of Parisian poisoners, she was initially arrested in a scheme that can only be described as harebrained. Unlike the Marquise, Lagrange was not a noblewoman by any means. She was instead the 36 year old widow of a Parisian tax collector who had himself been hanged for accepting stolen goods following her husband's death. Lagrange worked as a fortune teller or divineress who made most of her money by suggesting to clients in poor health that they had actually been poisoned. And luckily for them, she could sell an antidote. She attempted a larger grift when she decided to, quote, marry an elderly lawyer she knew by the name of Foret. In August of 1676, Lagrange and a man who identified himself as Foray visited a notary's office, showing him their certificate of marriage. And they ordered the notary to draw up a marriage contract that left Foret's wealth to his new wife upon his death. Foret, perhaps not shockingly, was an old man who died soon after, and his confused relatives, upon learning they would receive nothing, lodged a formal complaint. The criminal Lieutenant of Paris followed the paper trail back to La Grange and concluded that not only had the marriage certificate been a forgery, the man who had accompanied her to the notary wasn't Foray at all. He was in fact a priest. The very priest who had conducted the marriage in the first place. The pair Lagrange and the priest were arrested on charges of forgery and murder. As there was now reason to believe the real foray had been poisoned, I must admit the specific details of this case are not particularly relevant to the larger story here. But how could I resist telling you about such an amazing inheritance scam conducted by a fortune teller and a priest? It's in the aftermath of her arrest that Lagrange becomes a relevant player in the affair of the poisons that would captivate France. In February of 1677, from prison, she boldly wrote a letter to the Marquise of Louvois, the King's Secretary of State. Louvois was a big deal, but the contents of Lagrange's letter, which implied that she had uncovered an espionage ring from one of her fellow prisoners that threatened national security, was enough of a threat for him to want to investigate personally. He arranged for Lagrange to be taken to his home so that she could be questioned. We don't know the details of that meeting, but while Lavoie acknowledged the very real possibility that the prisoner could just be lying to delay her forthcoming trial. He declared that one could not be too careful with an allegation as serious as hers. Lagrange was transferred to the Bastille for further questioning and Louvois put the investigation in the hands of the Chief of Police, Gabriel Nicolas de La Reynie. La Reynie had been appointed the Parisian Chief of Police a decade earlier by the King himself, who chose him because, as he declared, he did not know a better man or a more hardworking magistrate. It's hard to doubt La Reynie's dedication or efficiency, but his character earned him a fair share of detractors. As the Chief of Police, his work extended far beyond today's understanding of the position. In fact, his responsibilities were arguably more aligned with the role of a modern mayor. Some of his most well regarded achievements included installing an extensive system of street lighting that improved pedestrian life and reduced late night crime, as well as measures to improve Paris's cleanliness, turning around its reputation as the then filthiest city in the world. When he wasn't improving infrastructure, La Reynie was leading high profile investigations, usually at the behest of the King himself, uncovering a different kind of filth in the city. As instructed by Lavoie, La Reynie questioned Lagrange at the Bastille about this alleged espionage ring. This time she not only spoke of the espionage ring, but she insinuated there was a plot in motion to assassinate both the King and and the Dauphin, the Prince. After she provided weak evidence and refused to speak further, she was transferred back to her original prison to await trial. However, things took a turn for the dramatic when an anonymous letter was found in a Paris church. Depending on the level of drama in the account you read, some say the letter was slipped directly to a priest who through the confessional window by a mysterious woman. However it got there, the letter was ostensibly written by a widow who had been told by an admirer of his intent to place a white powder on the napkin of a person so powerful his name could not be mentioned. The writer of the letter feared for her own safety, as she would be considered a responsible party for merely possessing knowledge of the act, the standard in cases of treason. The letter put La Reynie on alert. But what he truly sought was from where and from whom this alleged poison was coming from. Could this all be connected to the claims of a larger ring that Lagrange had been making? La Reynie gathered further insight when a nobleman and his entourage were arrested for fraud and as it turned out they may have been involved in the international poison market. When taken into custody, the girlfriend of one of these men quoted her paramour as often, declaring, Madame de Brinvilliers was not dead. She had left behind heirs. La Reynie gained his inn with those poisoning heirs in late 1678. In December, Marie Vigoreau, a former wet nurse to the aristocracy and present day fortune teller. Yes, another fortune teller was hosting a small dinner party. Guests included a lawyer, Monsieur Perrine, and a wealthy widow, Marie Boss. Boss, evidently overindulged on Vigoreau's wine, declared to the table that things were going so well for her that once she had poisoned three more people, she would be able to retire. A deeply unsettled Monsieur Perrin reported Boss's words to the police, and both she and her host, Marie Vigoreau, were arrested. In January, they were taken to a prison where all suspected police poisoners were kept over the following three years. Through his questioning, La Renais soon learned that La Boss and Vigoreau shared clients, and even Lagrange and Labosse sometimes worked together. After countless vague allusions and dead leads, this was enough confirmation for La Reynie to seriously believe that there was an active network of poisoners in Paris somehow connected to the world of fortune tellers. The homes of both Labosse and Vigoreau were searched, and a casket belonging to La Bosse was found to contain nail clippings and samples of apologies. Menstrual blood as well as arsenal and nitric acid. You know, classic girl stuff. From that point on, La Reynie's investigation focused on the fortune tellers and divineresses of Paris. By one estimation, there were at least 400 active practitioners in the city, the vast majority of them women. Clients came to these women for an extensive variety of reasons. A year before the investigation began, the poet Jean de la Fontaine wrote this handy Lost a hanky, lost a lover, your husband living too long for your taste. A tiresome mother, a jealous wife. Off you go to the sorceress to get the news you want to hear. Such a client might have wanted to know their future through palm reading or a horoscope reading, or even a reading of their facial features. I see three children in your cheekbones. Perhaps these clients were seeking minor remedies for ailments such as toothaches or herbal creams to improve their complexions. Some clients, if they knew the right fortune tellers to go to, sought abortions. Perhaps the largest number of these clients needed assistance in their love lives, and most of them were struggling in unhappy marriages. Some wanted their abusive or neglectful husband to treat them better, some wanted predictions on when their husbands would die. The divineresses therefore served a fascinating role in the lives of Parisian women. The fortune teller was at once a woman's pharmacist, healthcare provider, emotional support therapist, soothsayer and sometimes best weapon. But divineresses were importantly, first and foremost, businesswomen. As interrogations would prove. Many were exceptionally cold hearted towards their clients, exploiting their pain for money. They did not see themselves as the just liberators of downtrodden women, rather just women who had also been dealt poor hands, trying to survive and thrive for themselves. Same as everyone, business thrived because their network filled a void in society, where women in distress often had few other options. It is a grim truth to acknowledge that while a number of women turn to poison to gain power or marry a younger lover, many other women, especially those who were not nobility, sought poison as their last resource to escape an abusive marriage or to gain financial independence. The connection between women and poison predates the Old Testament, and by the 17th century it was widely stereotyped as a woman's weapon. Much of the reason the more outlandish claims made during the affair of the poisons were even acknowledged by sensible men like La Reynie was the existing cultural anxiety surrounding the gender dynamics of the crimes of poisoning and witchcraft. Many divineresses also practiced forms of witchcraft and turned to spells for their most troubling cases. Labosse believed rituals involving menstrual blood were good for strengthening love, while those involving urine were used for harm. La Voisin, the most infamous divineress in Paris, the most infamous fortune teller of them all, agreed. When a client asked to get rid of her husband, La Voisin asked for a sample of his urine and the shell of eggs he had eaten. When spells didn't work, La Voisin had other tricks up her sleeve. As she once supposedly told another client, suffice to say that for me, nothing is impossible. I've made other women happy. Just bring the money. On paper. The practice of magic was punishable by law. But at this point in Parisian history, it was not actively persecuted. 1625 had been the last time a witch was executed by the Parisian parliament. As the historian Alfred Soman has argued, witchcraft trials came to an early end in France, not because people stopped believing in witches, but because the central authorities considered the trials scandalous and unbefitting the dignity of the king's justice. La Reynie's investigation, in turn, became an unusual kind of witch hunt. He was far more interested in the very practical side of a sorceress's business than the magical doings. Though these women would not be tried as witches, they would often meet similar ends as if they had been. Look at the fate of the Lagrange, the woman who, if you'll recall, kickstarted this investigation. Despite pressure from parliament, the King and La Reynie fought to delay her execution in the hopes of extracting more information from her. But further torture yielded no valuable intel. Lagrange and her priest accomplice, remember from the inheritance scam, were ultimately executed on the evening of February 8, 1679, and any of their remaining secrets or lies died with them. But the interrogations of the fortune teller, La Boss and Vigoroux did prove fruitful. For example, La Reynie quickly learned that the women shared a client, Madame de Poulion, who had recently been put in a convent by her husband after he had been warned that she was trying to kill him. While many women throughout history have been sent to convents or institutionalized under fabricated pretenses by the men in their lives, Madame de Poulion was in fact actually attempting to do what she had been accused of of. She had worked with both Labosse and Vigoreau on multiple failed attempts to poison her husband after the charming scammer that she was having an affair with kept demanding more and more money from her. Turns out Boss and Vigoro knew a lot of would be poisoners. The more that the two women talked, the more Divineoresses and their clients end up in prison alongside them. A number of the prisoners, especially La Boss, spoke at length and in detail about that one notorious sorceress in particular, La Voisin. La Voisin was a rival of bosses. All of the world came to see her, reported one prisoner. Most of the of the ladies in Paris have been to see her, claimed another one Divine, when asked about her business with pregnant women, diverted suspicion by claiming that La Voisin was Paris's go to abortion provider. Boss estimated that la Voison made 100,000 livres a year from her quote, evil dealings, while another put the figure more reasonably close to 10,000. La Reynie was particularly interested in Labosse's divulgence that an unnamed lady of rank had offered La Voisin 6,000 livres if she could bring about the death of her husband. On March 12, 1679, La Voisin, Real name Catherine Montvoisin, was arrested leaving her local parish where she regularly attended mass. Though this may seem at odds with everything else we know about that woman, La Voisin did not believe her faith was in conflict with her practice of alleged magic. At this point in her life, she was somewhere between her late 30s and early 40s. But young Catherine began honing her divining skills, or, as she phrased it, cultivating the knowledge God had given her since she was nine years old. Part of the reason she was so popular was that many clients were comforted by her pious religious nature. An anecdote goes that once, having performed an abortion with a midwife she employed, she wept with joy as the fetus was baptized, believing that she had been its salvation rather than its damnation. Yes, she was as she had been accused of being, Paris's go to abortion provider. At the time, abortion was a capital offense, and both the mother and the midwife were liable to the death penalty. Still, in 1660, Parliament had been informed by churchmen that in the past year alone, 600 women in Paris had confessed to aborting pregnancies. When later put on the stand, La Voisin's midwife argued that she was preserving the honor of ladies of rank when she terminated their unwanted, perhaps embarrassing, pregnancies. La Voisin ran her business out of the garden of her home in the suburbs of Paris. One colleague enviously described a typical day in La Voisin's life. Before she got up every morning, there were folk waiting to see her, and throughout the rest of the day she was with more people. After that, she kept open house in the evening with violins playing and was always making merry, end quote. The ideal work from home situation. But despite the merrymaking, La Voisin was extremely serious about her work, both out of pride and necessity. Her husband, Antoine Montvaison, was a failed silk merchant and jeweler, all of his businesses having gone bankrupt. It was up to his wife then to feed the couple and their many children. Antoine did not really seem like the grateful type. Catherine Lavoison complained that he would often get drunk and treat her badly. When a client or colleague encountered La Voisin, the standard polite way to greet her was to inquire whether her husband had died. Yet during her interrogation, she told La Reynie that she never attempted to kill her husband, but evidence would suggest otherwise. While her marriage was unhappy, she still maintained an active love life through numerous affairs with magicians, alchemists, and even a nobleman to whom she had taught palmistry. La Voisin was first interrogated on March 17. Her initial strategy was the same as her rival La bosses to turn all accusations back toward her rival. It appears that in earlier years, the two had actually had a professional partnership, with Voisin sending clients to Boss. But a fight over their share of profits turned the relationship bitter. It later came to light that Voisin believed Boss had denied her her fair share of profits from a poison job, despite the widow's generous payout. When asked about that widow, La Voisin answered that she had known of Madame Brunet's hatred for her husband, but had few interactions with the woman. She had instead discussed the situation with La Bosse and urged her fellow divineress to do nothing detrimental to the glory of God and their salvation. La Reynie, understanding the dynamic between these two women, devised a setup so devious that it has only been used since by housewives producers. The following day, Voisin and Boss were brought together for a confrontation. La Boss, having learned what Voisin had claimed the day before, launched into her own series of accusations. She claimed that Voisin tried to sell that widow a powder allegedly consisting of finely ground diamonds that would shred her husband's intestines when ingested. The widow declined to purchase the expensive and likely falsely advertised powder, but ultimately paid Voisin for her services in 400 livres cash and a diamond cross. La Boss didn't stop with her accusations there. She repeated her claim about the lady of Rank and the 6,000 Livres offer, adding that the woman had asked her to poison a bouquet of flowers. La Bosse additionally alleged that Voisin had been involved with another highborn woman who had gifted La Voisin her mourning clothes to thank her for dealing with her husband. Still not finished, La Bosse purported that La Voisin had, in fact tried to kill her hated husband multiple times, once with the aid of her lover, a magician who intended to bury a sheep's heart in the backyard as part of a spell. Another time, La Boss herself had been enlisted to poison Montvoison's wine, but she added only a few drops. La Voisin denied her dealings with that first widow, but ultimately conceded to some of the other claims. Yes, her magician lover had buried the sheep's heart, but when her husband began to have stomach pains, she was so overcome with guilt that she went to confession and, after having received absolution, instructed her lover to undo the spell. And yes, she had been approached by one lady of rank who wanted a poisonous bouquet, as well as another who gave her her mourning clothes. Those she claimed were not gifted for performing a service, but instead accompanied by a note reading, madame Voisin, perhaps this will bring you Luck. And if God permits that your husband dies, you can use them further into interrogations. La Boss admitted that with the encouragement of La Voisin, it was she who supplied that first widow with the liquid she used to poison her husband. La Bosse had received the liquid from none other than remember her, La Grange, thus confirming La Reynie's long held suspicions that this poison web was all connected. Voisin would go on to name the mourning clothes client as the wealthy, respected Madame Lafren and the Bouquet client as the society figure Madame de Joux. The King was shocked to hear these women named, but Voisin's testimony was substantial enough for him to order their arrests. By this point, it was early April and the arrests were beginning to cause quite the stir. The multitude of distinguished people arrested for poison grows every day. The English ambassador to France reported to the Secretary of State. The first trials of the affair of the poisons began in May, but they would not be conducted through the regular courts. Back in March, when it became clear that no numerous trials would be necessary, the King formed a special committee to hear the cases. 14 commissioners were chosen by the King to serve as judges, including La Reynie. Additionally, La Reynie was appointed rapporteur to the commission, which meant it was his job to outline the evidence to his fellow commissioners, all while still being in charge of the investigation. In effect, the historian Anne Somerset writes, he acted as a detective, prosecutor and judge. One reason for forming the commission was that the King did not want the regular courts overwhelmed with poisoning cases. But another, perhaps more relevant reason was that the King anticipated numerous high ranking people would be implicated. So he preferred to hand pick commissioners who could maintain discretion. The committee became known as in English the burning chamber. On May 7, Labosse and Madame Vigoreau were the first accused to stand trial. Two days later they were sentenced to death, with the chamber ordering itself their torture before their execution. The executions took place on May 10 and also included La Boss's son, who was hanged for admitting to helping his mother prepare her poisons. Boss was not afforded such a simple death for the extent of her crimes, the commission sentenced her to be burnt at the stake. It was on their order that boss 14 year old daughter be brought to watch her mother burn alive. In an attempt to deter the girl from following in her mother's footsteps. Vigoroux would have met with the exact same fate had she not died during the torture. Deaths continued throughout the summer. That widow, aided by both Boss and Voisin, possibly was hanged in June for the murder of her husband. The Midwife that Voisin had employed met the same fate in August. La Voisin survived longer than her contemporaries, if only because La Reynie believed she had more to say. On September 16, Louvois excitedly informed the King that La Voisins really began beginning to talk. Though she claimed it pained her. She began to name names of her clients, including a countess and her sister, a duchess. The King, growing concerned about the direction the investigation was now taking, began to make contingency plans. He ordered that when certain prisoners were interrogated, their answers were be recorded on separate sheets of paper, rather than the usual bound volumes, easier to erase from the record should the need arise. On January 23, 1680, arrest warrants were issued for four nobles, including the Countess Comtesse Desantis and the Duke of Luxembourg. On the same day, five other nobles received lesser forms of summons. The Court and Paris at large were abuzz with the news. In Paris, a play called the Divineress was so popular that it had to turn away around 400 eager theatergoers each night and ended up making more money than any previous French production. It was rumored that La Reynie himself had advised the playwrights on its accuracy, but that was almost certainly untrue. Though many fashionable nobles were now caught up in the scandal, two names uncovered in the interrogation remained concealed. They were the Duchess de Vivant and her sister in law, Madame de Montespan, AKA the King's official mistress. Montespan was born into one of the oldest noble families in France. She joined court when she became a maid of honor to the King's new sister in law, Princess Henrietta. At age 20, she was ambitious and quickly set her sights on King Louis xiv. As one courtier described it, she had designs on the King's heart and started laying her plans from the day she came to court. Despite Montespan's reported beauty, the King was uninterested and even actively disliked her for a time. At age 23, she agreed to marry the Marquise de Montespan. Though they were happy for a time, the marriage fell apart after the birth of their second child. At 25, she was summoned to return to court as a lady in waiting for Queen Marie Therese. Within a year, Montespan managed to gain Louis affections, having expertly endeared herself to both the Queen and the King's then current favorite, as reported by a queen courtier. By these means, she contrived to be constantly in the King's immediate entourage, and she exerted every effort to please him, in which she succeeded very well. Being bountifully endowed with wit and charm, in contrast to his previous favorite, who was sadly lacking in these qualities. The Marquise and Madame de Montespan were formally separated in 1670. Madame would go on to have eight children with Louis XIV, all of whom were legitimized. She was a passionate patron of the arts and actively interested in politics, even believed to have influence over the workings of the monarchy. She was often referred to as the King's second wife or the real Queen of France. Poor Marie Therese. Even before the affair of the poison began, rumors of sorcery existed within the power hungry court of Louis xiv. There must be some kind of sorcery you practice in connection with the high life you lead, wrote the famed letter writer Madame de Savigny to her daughter, mystified as to how she kept up with her expenses. I think you must resort to black magic, as must these impecunious courtiers. La Voisin would never admit her connection to Madame de Montespan. In fact, she would take that knowledge to her grave. On February 22, 1680, La Voisin was transferred to the Bastille, where a priest would hear her final confession before she was taken to her execution. Despite her lifelong faith, she did not find comfort in those final moments. Allegedly shoving away the crucifix her confessor stretched towards her. She did not go gently to the stake either, although who can blame her? She reportedly had to be dragged out of the tumbril and continued to resist from there. According to one spectator, five or six times she pushed aside the straw, but finally the flames leapt up, enveloped her, and she was lost to sight. It was La Voisin's daughter, Marie Margarete Monvason, who eventually revealed the truth. Though Marie had been arrested for assisting her mother back in January, it wasn't until July, five months after her mother's execution, that Marie began to talk a lot. She claimed that Madame de Montespan had been a client of her mother's for five or six years. Every time she feared, the good graces of the King were diminishing, Marie explained, she advised my mother of it so she could bring a remedy. My mother therefore said masses over these powders destined for the King. They were powders for love. However, Marie claimed that in more recent years, Montespan's devotion transformed into rage. When she felt the King's affections diminishing, she began to ask for more extreme measures to be taken. That's when, alongside an elderly priest in her employ, Voisin arranged for a black Mass to be conducted in her home. According to Marie, the lady who participated in a black mass laid on a mattress and produced her naked stomach, onto which the priest would place the cross and the chalice. Most unnervingly, Marie claimed that that her mother and the priest used the blood of an aborted baby as part of the ceremony. Taking the place of the sacramental wine, Marie alleged that Madame de Montespan herself carried the chalice. In his own testimony, the old priest recalled the satanic pact he had seen written by Madame de Montespan. I ask that the affection of the King and Monsignor the Dauphin be continued towards me, that the Queen be sterile, that the King leave her bed and table for me, that I be well treated and respected by the high nobility, that I can be called to the King's councils and know what happened there, that the King abandon and not consider his former favorite, and that the Queen, being repudiated, I can marry the King. Even still, Marie's most alarming allegation was that Madame de Montespan, La Voisin and several other collaborators had been actively working on a plot to poison the King. All those alleged to be involved, however, were vehemently denied such a plot ever existed. Louis was informed of Marie's divulgences during the interrogation, but we don't know what he thought of them. La Reynie believed Marie was likely fabricating the assassination plot, but he was reluctant to dismiss everything she had said and sought to corroborate her allegations. Undergoing torture, another divine heiress confirmed that Madame de Montespan had indeed purchased love powders and poisons. However, she later claimed that she had only said those things to free herself from the pain of torture. The details of that confession were relayed to the King, who found himself in a predicament if he followed his own established procedure and shared the transcript with the burning chamber, he feared that despite his best attempts, Paris would be abuzz with scandal. Still not knowing whether she was truly guilty, Madame de Montespan's reputation could be forever tainted by false testimony. It would also, of course, reflect embarrassingly upon Louis if the public learned his mistress had ensnared him with with love potions. Thus, the King asked La Reynie to continue discreetly. Ultimately, La Reynie decided to temporarily suspend the burning chamber to give himself more time. By early 1681, La Reynie concluded he had more reason to believe than disbelieve that Madame de Montespan had been involved in criminal activity. He was, however, reluctant to act upon his belief. As he wrote to Louvois. He wasn't sure if he believed punishing her was conducive to the glory of God, in the interests of the King and consequently that of the State, or for the good of justice, to appraise the public of facts of the kind. On the other hand, he questioned if these crimes are hidden, what other strange and unknown things will befall if one does not dare to penalize crimes on account of their enormity? In the spring of 1681, the king called a meeting with those in the know to advise his course of action. After hearing their arguments, he decreed that he would not formally disband or the Chamber. But he did not wish it to hear any evidence which discredited Madame de Montespan. Historians still debate whether he sought to protect his mistress himself or he genuinely believed the allegations untrue. The burning Chamber resumed activities after a nine month hiatus on May 19, 1681, before dissolving for good on July 21, 1682. During its time, the Special Criminal Commission charged 442 individuals, issued 319 arrest warrants, and pronounced 104 judgments, including 36 death sentences, five life imprisonments and 23 banishments. Madame de Montespan remained at court and perhaps never learned of the allegations against her. She perhaps understandably, however, did fall out of favor. And following the death of the Queen, the King went on to secretly marry his new beloved, the Marquise de Maintenon. Montespan ultimately left court in 1691, where retiring to Paris after her death in 1707 and La Reynie's death in 1709, the king sought to destroy all evidence from the trial related to his mistress. 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