ROYAL AND HISTORIC POISONERS
Poison appears to have been employed as a political agent from an early
period of history, and many stories, probably more legendary than
correct, have been handed down of royal personages who used this secret
and deadly method of ridding themselves of troublesome individuals and
removing enemies from their path. In the same way, they themselves
sometimes became the victims of jealous rivals by similar nefarious
means. The greatest craft and cunning were exerted in order to introduce
poison into the human body, and there are many stories concerning the
curious and subtle methods said to have been employed.
There are but few authenticated records of the use of poison in England
for the purpose of taking life until the sixteenth century, although
according to tradition King John is said to have compassed the death of
the unfortunate Maud FitzWalter by means of a poisoned egg.
The story is a romantic one, and is related by Hepworth Dixon in _Her
Majesty’s Tower_. In the reign of King John the White Tower received one
of the first and fairest of a long line of female victims, in the person
of Maud FitzWalter, who was known to the singers of her time as Maud the
Fair. The father of this beautiful girl was Robert, Lord FitzWalter, of
Castle Baynard on the Thames, one of John’s most powerful and greatest
barons. The King, it is said, during a fit of violence or temper with
the Queen, fell madly in love with the fair Maud. As neither the lady
herself nor her father would listen to his disgraceful suit, the King is
said to have seized her by force at Dunmow and brought her to the Tower.
FitzWalter raised an outcry, on which the King sent troops into Castle
Baynard and his other houses, and when the baron protested against these
wrongs his master banished him from the realm. FitzWalter fled to France
with his wife and other children, leaving poor Maud in the Tower, where
she suffered a daily insult in the King’s unlawful suit. She remained
obdurate, however, and refused his offers. On her proud and scornful
answer to his overtures being heard, John carried her up to the roof and
locked her in the round turret, standing on the north-east angle of the
keep. Maud’s cage was the highest and chilliest den in the Tower, but
neither cold, solitude nor hunger could break her resolve, and at last,
in a rage of disappointed love, the King sent one of his minions to her
room with a poisoned egg, of which the brave girl ate and died.
According to the French Chronicles, “After the death of Gaultier
Giffard, Count Buckingham, in the early part of the twelfth century,
Agnes his widow became enamoured with Robert Duke of Normandy, and
attached herself to him in an illicit manner, shortly after which time
his wife Sibylle died of poison.”
Probably the earliest recorded case of secret poisoning in England is
that of Sir Walter de Scotiney, who was convicted of poisoning the Abbot
of Westminster and William, brother of the Earl of Gloucester. According
to Leland’s account, this happened during the meeting of a parliament
which had been convened at Winchester by Henry the Third about 1230. The
story is told in the following words:—
“The Abbot of Westminster and William brother of the Earl of Gloucester,
a person of great worth and spirit, were both destroyed. The Earl of
Gloucester himself languished under the effects of the poison and only
escaped death with extreme difficulty, for the hair fell from his head
and the nails from his fingers. They are said to have received into
their bowels the deadly drug at the table of the Lord Edward, King
Henry’s eldest son, during breakfast. The Earl escaped destruction
merely by the strength of his constitution with the loss of his hair,
nails, skin and great injury to his teeth. These atrocious deeds struck
the people with Horror. The villainy was imputed to a certain knight,
Walter de Scotiney, and at the appeal of the Countess de L’Isle he was
seized, judged and drawn.”
“In the same year and the latter end of February,” the chronicler
continues,
“was apprehended at London Walter de Scotiney, the Chief Councillor of
the Earl of Gloucester and his seneschall, being suspected of having
given the poisonous potion to the Earl, who was himself hardly saved
from the gate of death, and to his brother William de Clare who was
really killed by it; also was taken William de Bussey whose villanies if
related must excite horror and astonishment. He was the seneschal and
principal councillor of William de Valence. These men, although they had
been under the safe custody of sureties, being now seized and brought
before the judges were committed to a viler prison and put in chains.”
In the records of Hugh de Bigot, the High Justiciar, it is stated:
“Coming to Winchester they brought Walter de Scotiney steward of the
Earl of Gloucester to his trial for poisoning William de Clare the
preceding year. Scotiney was convicted, condemned and executed.”
Henry VIII at one period of his life was apprehensive of being poisoned,
and it was commonly stated that Anne Boleyn attempted to administer
poison to him surreptitiously. It is recorded that the King, in an
interview with young Prince Henry, burst into tears, saying that “he and
his sister, the Princess Mary, might thank God for having escaped from
the hand of that accursed and venomous harlot, who had intended to
poison them.”
The story of the Countess of Somerset, who was tried with others for the
murder of Sir Thomas Overbury in the reign of James I, forms an
interesting episode in the history of romantic poisoning. Robert Earl of
Essex, son of Queen Elizabeth’s favourite, and who afterwards became
Commander-in-Chief of the Parliamentary forces, married, at the age of
fourteen, Frances Howard, a younger daughter of the Earl of Suffolk, the
bride being just a year younger than her husband. The match had been
arranged and brought about through the influence of relatives, who
thought it expedient that the youthful bridegroom should be sent off to
travel on the Continent immediately after the marriage had taken place,
and he remained away for three or four years. During this period the
countess, who was brought up at Court, developed into a very beautiful
woman, but seems to have been equally unprincipled and capricious. On
the return of the earl from his travels, she shrank from all advances on
his part, and showed the utmost repugnance to her husband on all
occasions. Their dispositions were entirely different. He loved
retirement, and wished to live a quiet country life, while she, who had
been bred at Court, and accustomed to adulation and intrigue, refused to
leave town. The King about this time had a number of young men of
distinguished appearance and good looks attached to the Court, and of
these, one Robert Carr, at length became an exclusive favourite. Between
him and the self-willed young countess there sprang up an attachment,
which, at least on her side, amounted to infatuation. Her opportunities
for meeting her lover were short and rare, and in this emergency she
applied to a Mrs. Turner, who introduced her to Dr. Forman, a noted
astrologer and magician at that time, and he, by images made of wax and
other devices of the black art, undertook to procure the love of Carr
for the lady. At the same time he was also to practise against the earl
in the opposite direction. These measures, however, were too slow for
the wayward countess, and having gone to the utmost lengths with her
inamorato, she insisted on a divorce from her husband, and a legal
marriage with her lover.
One of Carr’s greatest friends was Sir Thomas Overbury, a young courtier
and a man of honour and kindly disposition. He was much against this
intimacy, and besought his friend to break it off, assuring him it would
ruin his prospects and reputation if he married the lady. Carr unwisely
made this known to the countess, who at once regarded Overbury as a
bitter enemy, and resolved to do what she could to overthrow him. The
pair plotted together with evident success, for the unfortunate Sir
Thomas was shortly afterwards committed to the Tower by an arbitrary
mandate of the King, and was not allowed to see any visitors. Finally,
his food was poisoned, and, after several unsuccessful attempts on his
life, he at last died from the effects of poison. Cantharides, nitrate
of silver, spiders, arsenic, and last of all, corrosive sublimate, are
said to have been administered in turn to this unfortunate individual.
Meanwhile, the countess obtained a divorce from her husband on the
ground of impotency, and married Carr, who was soon after made Earl of
Somerset by King James.
Two years elapsed before the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury was brought
to light, when the inferior criminals, Mrs. Turner and others, were
convicted and executed; but the Earl of Somerset and his countess,
although found guilty with their accomplices, received the royal pardon.
The happiness of the earl and countess, however, was not of long
duration, as it is stated they afterwards became so alienated from each
other, that they resided for years under the same roof with the most
careful precautions that they might not by any chance come into each
other’s presence. Mrs. Turner, implicated in the crime, is said to have
been the first to introduce into England the yellow starch that was then
applied to ladies’ ruffs. Her last request was that she should be hanged
in a ruff dyed with her own yellow starch, and her wish is said to have
been carried out.
Whether Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, Prime Minister and favourite
of Queen Elizabeth, was as black as he is painted by some of the
historians of his time, it is difficult to judge. His ambition to marry
his royal mistress, who, shrewd woman as she was, appears to have had no
insight into his unscrupulous character, was apparently the cause of his
attempting to move every human obstacle from his path by insidious
methods. The death of Amy Robsart, a mystery which has never been
completely solved and a description of which is given in a following
chapter, is attributed to Leicester’s machinations. He was suspected of
causing the death of Lord Sheffield, and the Earl of Essex, another
rival, is stated to have been also the victim of his hatred.
The death of the latter peer is said, in the language of a contemporary
chronicler, as having been due to “an extreme flux cause by an Italian
Receit, the maker whereof was a surgeon that was then newly come to my
Lord from Italy, a cunning man and sure in operation.” The inventor of
this recipe was known as Dr. Julio, who was said to be able “to make a
man dye in what manner of sickness you will.” Essex died when on his way
back to England from Ireland, with the object, it is said, of revenging
himself on Leicester for his domestic wrongs. “With the Earl of Essex,
one Mrs. Alice Drakott, a godly gentlewoman, is also said to have been
poisoned.” This lady happened to be accompanying the earl on her way
towards her own house, when after partaking of the same cup she was also
seized with violent pain and vomiting, which continued until she died, a
day or two before the earl succumbed. “When she was dead,” says the
chronicler, “her body was swollen into a monstruous bigness and
deformity; whereof the good earl, hearing the day following, lamented
the case greatly, and said in the presence of his servants, ‘Ah! poor
Alice, the cup was not prepared for thee, albeit it was thy hard fortune
to taste thereof.’”
According to all accounts, Leicester’s list of victims did not cease
here, and, rightly or wrongly, the death of Cardinal Chatillian, who was
taken suddenly ill and died in Canterbury, is also attributed to him.
The Cardinal had accused the earl of preventing the marriage of the
Queen to the King of France, and was journeying back to Dover when he
was taken ill and died in a mysterious manner.
Another mysterious death at this time that occasioned considerable
sensation was that of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, a wealthy city magnate
of Elizabeth’s time, whose name is still perpetuated in the City. Sir
Nicholas is said to have been an associate of Leicester’s and the one
who was ready to do his bidding in thwarting the doings of the Lord
Treasurer, Sir William Cecil, who was thought by Leicester to be playing
him false. He invited him one night to a supper at his house in London,
and, just as the meal was served, hurriedly left for Court, to which he
said he had been called suddenly by her Majesty. Sir Nicholas was told
to proceed with the meal in his absence, which he did, but soon after
was seized with violent vomiting, from which he never recovered. The
story continues, that the day before his death he declared to a dear
friend “all the circumstances and causes of his complaint, which he
affirmed plainly to be poison given him in a sallet at supper,
inveighing most earnestly against the earl’s cruelty and bloody
disposition, and affirming him to be the wickedest, most perilous and
perfidious man under heaven.”
Whether Leicester was the unscrupulous villain he was made out to be or
not, there is no evidence to prove. Many writers aver that he kept his
professional poisoners ready to do his will and carry out his designs.
There seems little doubt that he had some needy physicians in his pay.
His personal doctor, one Bayly, is said to have boasted of the fact that
“he knew of poisons which might be so tempered that they should kill the
party afterwards at what time it should be appointed.” This method,
which is alluded to by many writers of the fifteenth century as slow
poisoning, was probably due to the effect of administering some poison,
such as arsenic or antimony in small doses until the cumulative effect
of the substance proved fatal.
An Italian doctor whom Leicester brought home from his travels in Italy,
is mentioned in several stories as one of the unscrupulous physicians
employed by him who were ready to administer the “Italian Comfortive,”
as the poison was called, at his bidding. Those whose sudden deaths were
attributed to Leicester’s instrumentality were commonly said to have
succumbed to “Leicester’s cold.”
There is little doubt, however, that Leicester was suspected of being
the instigator of many murders which probably he may have had nothing to
do with, as he made many enemies.
His name is also associated with the sudden demise of Lord Sheffield,
whose death is said to have been due to “Leicester’s cold.” A short time
afterwards the earl married his widow, but under pretence that the Queen
would be offended at the marriage, compelled her to keep it secret.
After some time, the more effectually to conceal the connection, he
required her to marry Sir Edward Stafford. This she refused to do, till
under the gentle discipline of Leicester it is recorded that “her hair
fell off and her nails fell out, and she did what was demanded of her to
save her life.” This story is certified by her own testimony on oath,
and recorded by Sir William Dugdale.
The Earl of Sussex, his great rival, is also said to have been one of
his victims. On his death-bed he is said to have warned his friends in
the following words: “I am passing into another world and must now leave
you to your good fortunes and to the Queen’s grace and goodness; but
beware of the gipsy’s son [Leicester] for he will be too hard for you
all. You know the beast as well as I do.”
Camden, the historian, who does not discredit many of these stories,
asserts that Leicester actually proposed in Council that Mary Queen of
Scots should be removed by poison.
There was a curious mystery about the death of Prince Alexander, the son
of Peter the Great, the story of which is related by Henry Bruce, an
Englishman in Peter’s service in 1782. Bruce states that he was at the
citadel of St. Peter and St. Paul, where the Tsarevitch was imprisoned
on a charge of _lèse-majesté_, the Tsar and Marshal Veide being also
present. The latter ordered Bruce to go to the apothecary Beer, who
lived close by, and tell him “the potion must be made strong, for the
Prince was very bad indeed.” The apothecary trembled and turned pale at
the message, but refused to explain to Bruce why he was thus agitated.
The Marshal, who had sent Bruce, followed him, and told Beer to “hurry,
for the Prince had had an apoplectic fit.” The apothecary handed him a
silver cup, which the Marshal carried to the Prince, “staggering all the
time like a drunken man.” Half an hour after the Tsar left the citadel,
gloomy, like all his retinue. Bruce was ordered to stay and dine at a
table set for the Tsarevitch. “Two doctors and two surgeons dined apart.
They were called in to the Prince; he was in convulsions, and died at 5
p.m., after atrocious suffering. Bruce informed the Marshal, who told
the Tsar. The viscera were removed by Peter the Great’s orders before
the body was coffined.”
In India, when powdered glass is employed for lethal purposes, it is
generally given with sherbet or some kind of food. It acts as a powerful
irritant to the coats of the stomach or intestines and produces
gastro-enteritis.
A celebrated case in which this substance was used occurred in India in
1874, when the Gaekwar or reigning prince of Baroda, was tried for
attempting to kill the British political resident, Colonel Phayre, by
administering powdered glass to him in sherbet. He was brought to trial
before a court composed of three Indian and three English judges, and
after a trial lasting thirty-five days the English judges pronounced for
a conviction and the three Indian ones for an acquittal. In the end the
Gaekwar was deposed and deported to Madras.