A MYSTERY OF THE AUSTRIAN COURT IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
In the spring of the year 1670, Leopold I, Emperor of Austria, was
seized with a mysterious illness which greatly puzzled his physicians. A
staunch and fervent Roman Catholic he was completely dominated by the
Jesuit party, who dubbed him “Leopold the Great,” and received in return
for their commendation many tokens of his favour. In spite of this
friendship, however, seeing that the house of Austria was tottering, for
Leopold had no male descendants, the fathers were engaged in secretly
fomenting an insurrection in Hungary which was supported by Louis XIV.
It was darkly hinted by some that the Emperor was being poisoned by the
Hungarian malcontents. One day the papal nuncio was in conference with
the sick monarch in his cabinet concerning the insurrection which had
just broken out, and while they were in consultation a fresh despatch
arrived, which contained a long list of the persons implicated. In this
list appeared the name of Francis Borri. As the name was read out by the
secretary, the nuncio started.
“Borri!” he exclaimed. “Have him arrested at once, your Majesty. He is a
most dangerous man and has contrived to escape from the avenging arm of
the Holy Office.” Within a few hours afterwards, a Captain Scotti, of
the Austrian Life Guards, was despatched on a special mission to
Goldingen to arrest him.
Giuseppe Francesco Borri was a remarkable man. Born in Milan in 1627, he
left that city early in life for Rome, where he studied medicine and
alchemy. His scientific studies did not, however, prevent him from
taking a deep interest in other subjects, and among these theology
claimed a place. His researches led him to doubt the supremacy of the
Pope, and he began to deliver lectures claiming that the mysteries of
the faith were derived from the principles of chemistry.
The Jesuits at once obtained an order for his arrest through the
Inquisition, and the Pope offered a reward of 35,000 francs to anyone
who would deliver him up; but Borri was on the alert, and fled to
Strasburg. His enemies in Rome, balked of their prey, meanwhile had his
name publicly exposed on the gallows and his picture was burnt by the
hangman. From Strasburg he journeyed to Amsterdam, and there became very
popular as a physician, being besieged by patients who offered him large
fees for his services. He professed to be an adept in toxicology and was
learned in poisons and their antidotes. Leaving Amsterdam, he proceeded
to Hamburg, where he made the acquaintance of Queen Christina and
acquired a great reputation for his skill in ophthalmic diseases. For a
few months he lived at the court of Copenhagen, but desire coming over
him to go to a warmer climate he left the north with the object of
settling in Stamboul.
On April 10, 1670, he arrived at Goldingen on the Silesian border. But
his enemies the Jesuits had not lost sight of him. They played a waiting
game, which proved successful in the end, for the landlord of the house
in which Borri lodged communicated his guest’s identity to the Jesuits
at Vienna, and he was arrested as a suspect by Captain Scotti on April
22. Travelling in a carriage surrounded by an escort of cavalry they at
once set out for the capital. The captain happened himself to be an
Italian and treated his prisoner with every consideration. He told him
he was suspected of being concerned in a conspiracy, and that he had the
papal nuncio among his opponents. “Then I realize the real cause of my
arrest,” replied Borri.
Scotti also told him, in conversation, of the Emperor’s mysterious
illness, which had baffled his physicians and which was now supposed to
be due to secret poisoning. Borri expressed the opinion that if this was
the case he could readily discover the presence of a poison if one
existed. He implored the captain to inform the Emperor that if he really
suspected he was being poisoned he could free him from it, and was
incapable of taking any revenge for the insult done by arresting him.
The captain promised to comply with his request.
On their arrival in Vienna on April 28, 1670, Borri was taken to the
Swan Inn and there lodged in a room which was guarded by soldiers.
Weary and tired by his journey he at once threw himself on the bed and
fell asleep, but he was aroused during the night by the door being
opened. A man entered, wrapped in a cloak and bearing a dark lantern.
When he lighted the room he saw it was Captain Scotti.
“Make haste and get ready,” said the captain. “The Emperor wishes to
speak with you, for your reputation as a physician is known to him. I
mentioned your proposal to him and his Majesty trusts you, but was
obliged to wait till night as he does not wish this visit to be known.”
Borri thanked the captain and in a few minutes they were walking through
the dark and silent streets to the palace. When they arrived, Scotti
handed his prisoner over to a chamberlain, who at once conducted him to
the Imperial antechamber and bade him be seated.
In about a quarter of an hour a gentleman of the bedchamber came in and
made Borri a sign to follow him. They passed through several apartments
until they came to a velvet-covered door which the conductor opened,
and, drawing back a heavy _portière_, beckoned Borri to enter.
He found himself in the Emperor’s cabinet, a gloomy room lighted by a
few candles which shed but a dim light. Pictures of a religious
character covered the walls, and by the side of a small work-table stood
a lofty _prie-Dieu_, over which hung a finely carved crucifix. By the
dim light Borri at length discerned a little man seated in an armchair
near the table, making impatient movements. He wore a green silk
dressing-gown and a cap with a shade for his eyes. His feet were wrapped
up, his face was livid and his cheeks sunken.
Borri advanced and bowed.
“Are you the Milanese cavalier?” the Emperor asked in a trembling voice.
“At your Majesty’s service,” replied Borri.
“I am sorry to see you here as a prisoner, but you are not one at
present,” said the Emperor.
“Had I not been arrested I should not have had the happiness of seeing
your Majesty,” rejoined the physician.
“I hear much that is satisfactory about your learning, although in
another respect you are said to be a dangerous man. Why do you trouble
yourself with religious affairs? Leave them to the clergy,” said the
Emperor, who continued to interrogate him at some length on religious
subjects. At last he said, “Now I hear that you devote yourself to
medicine. What have you heard about my condition?”
“Nothing beyond the supposition that your Majesty has been poisoned,”
replied Borri. “But that I may be able to express my views on the
subject your Majesty’s physician-in-ordinary must bring the symptoms
before me, and then I shall be able to speak with certainty,” he
continued.
A messenger was at once sent for the physician. Meanwhile, Borri noted
the Emperor’s wasted and grey looks. Then, rising, he took a survey of
the room, examining every ornament and object and sniffed suspiciously.
The Emperor followed his movements with inquiring eyes.
“Well, Borri,” he sighed at length. “What do you think?”
“I think almost certainly,” remarked the physician decisively, “that
your Majesty has been poisoned.”
“Holy Mother, have mercy on me!” cried the Emperor.
“I must, as I said, speak with your physician-in-ordinary,” continued
Borri, “but I can also promise your Majesty’s recovery with equal
certainty, for there is still time.”
“And how do you come to this conclusion of poison? My friends dine with
me out of the same dish. Do you notice anything on my body?”
“Your Majesty, it is not so much your body,” replied Borri, “but the
atmosphere of your room that is poisoned.”
“How can you tell, when I feel nothing of it?”
“Your Majesty is too accustomed to the poisonous exhalation to notice
it.”
“And where does the exhalation come from?”
Borri rose, and, followed by the wondering eyes of the Emperor, lifted
each candelabrum and placed it on the table, before the monarch, and so
bringing twelve lighted candles together.
“See the exhalation that rises from the candles,” he exclaimed. “Do you
not notice the peculiar colour of the flame?”
At this moment the chamberlain entered the room.
“The light is vivid,” remarked the Emperor, “but does not seem to me to
be extraordinary.”
“Do you not see a fine white mist arising which is not found in ordinary
candles?” continued Borri.
The Emperor appealed to the chamberlain and asked if he noticed the
mist, and he replied that he did. Just then the Emperor’s
physician-in-ordinary entered the cabinet.
“You have come at the right moment,” exclaimed the Emperor. This
cavalier asserts that the air of my room is poisoned. “Have you the
diagnosis with you?”
“It is here, your Majesty, where it has been kept since your illness,”
replied the physician.
The report was handed to Borri, who quickly glanced at it and nodded his
head.
“Do you perceive the curious smell in the room and the fine, quickly
ascending vapour?” asked Borri, as he pointed out the candles to the
doctor. “Look also at the crust which the vapour has deposited on the
ceiling.”
“I see it all and bow to your sharpness, cavalier,” said the physician.
“Does your Majesty burn these candles everywhere?” Borri asked. “It
would be interesting to know if they are used in the Empress’s
apartments?”
The chamberlain at once went and brought two lighted candles from the
Empress’s chamber, and placed them on the table near the suspected ones.
The former burned clear and quietly, while the latter burned with a
ruddy flame, emitting a thin vapour while repeated sparks with a
crackling noise flashed from the wick.
“There is the cause of your sickness,” exclaimed Borri, as he laid his
hand on the Emperor’s candelabra. “Shall I now prove to your Majesty
that these are impregnated with a subtle poison?”
“At once,” replied the Emperor.
Borri immediately closed the door of the apartment and extinguished the
suspected candles. With the physician’s assistance he then commenced to
remove all the wax from the wick. Meanwhile the chamberlain was summoned
and commanded to bring all the candles he had into the Emperor’s
cabinet. The entire stock, amounting to thirty-five pounds, was brought
from a cupboard in the ante-room where they had been stored and laid
before Borri.
On examining them he called the Emperor’s attention to the peculiar fact
that each candle was specially marked with a gold fillet round the top
as if to prevent any mistake. Further questioning revealed the fact that
no other candles but these had been used in the Emperor’s apartments
since Candlemas. Borri next shredded the candle wick and calling for a
small dish of meat carefully mixed the candle wick with it. A turnspit
dog was then sent for, and was shut up in the cupboard with the dish of
meat.
Meanwhile the Emperor was removed to another apartment, and Borri and
the physician proceeded to the palace pharmacy to prepare an antidote
for him. Here Borri tested the suspected candle wick and found, as he
thought, it was impregnated with arsenic. He had left instructions that
he was to be called as soon as the dog got restless, but the animal was
found to be dead by the time he returned to the Emperor’s cabinet.
The antidote prepared by Borri soon produced a beneficial effect on the
Emperor, and his health improved so rapidly that within three weeks he
was able to go out again.
An interesting record of Borri’s examination of the poisoned articles
shows his remarkable knowledge of chemistry. Of the whole of the
suspected candles brought to him he kept back two as evidence and used
the remainder in his analysis. The weight of the candles was twenty-four
pounds, and the impregnated wicks three and a half pounds, from which
Borri concluded that nearly two and three-quarters pounds of arsenic had
been employed.
Immediately Borri reported the result of his investigation to the
Emperor he gave orders that the person who supplied the candles should
be arrested at once.
It was found that they had been supplied by the procurator of the
Jesuits, who was, however, no longer in Vienna and was not to be found.
Being warned in time, this astute individual had made good his escape.
The solution of the mystery as to how the candles became impregnated
with arsenic subsequently transpired. It was discovered that the
pater-procurator of the Jesuits, accompanied by a humble member of the
order, had personally delivered the prepared candles, which were packed
in two boxes, at the palace on March 2, 1670, at dark, with instructions
that they were to be delivered to the chamberlain and were to be treated
with the greatest care.
“Your reverence,” said the steward who received them, “will greatly
oblige by telling me what the boxes contain, so that I may take due care
of them, until I hand them over to the chamberlain on duty?”
“Learn, my friend,” replied the procurator, “that the boxes contain a
number of especially consecrated wax candles for use in the Imperial
apartments. His Majesty, you know, receives everything he requires
through the hands of us who have blessed it for his service. Inform the
servants who have charge of the Imperial apartments that his Majesty
gave his reverend confessor Father Muller to understand that he wished,
in addition to other consecrated objects, to have such candles burnt in
his rooms. They must be henceforth taken from this store.”
The same evening the candles _consecrated_ by the Jesuit fathers were
lighted in the Imperial cabinet.
For a short time the Emperor appears to have shown some gratitude to the
physician who had been instrumental in saving his life, and Borri dined
at the Imperial table, but the hatred of the clerical party increased
when they saw him thus favoured.
On June 14, 1670, the Emperor, now quite restored to health, summoned
Borri to his cabinet and thanked him fervently for his services, but, he
added, he was sorry in the matter of religion Borri had gone astray and
that it was necessary to cure him of his errors. The Pope would appoint
a Commission. “I have obtained a guarantee from the papal nuncio,”
continued the Emperor, “that in no case shall anything be done against
your body or your life. So long as you live, two hundred ducats a year
shall be paid to you by myself or my heirs as a memorial of what you
have done for me.”
On the following day Borri left under an escort for Rome. On his arrival
he was arrested and imprisoned in the castle of St. Angelo. Owing to the
good offices of the French Maréchal D’Estrées, whom he attended during a
serious illness, he was allowed a certain amount of liberty and could go
in and out of the castle. He was also allowed to fit up a small
laboratory, where he was able to carry on his work in chemistry. The
Jesuit general Pater Gonzalez is said to have had several interviews
with him while in St. Angelo, with the object of getting him to reveal
the secret of his poison antidote, but Borri always declined to reveal
it, and he eventually died in the castle of St. Angelo in the year 1695.
Borri has been variously described by his biographers as an alchemist,
physician, quack or charlatan who amassed money by duping the wealthy
patients who consulted him, but, judging from the works he wrote, he was
probably no worse than many others who practised medicine in his day,
and certainly was before his time in his knowledge of chemistry.
Although a fanatic on religious subjects, he appears to have had
considerably more knowledge of disease than many of his contemporaries,
and the stories of his successful treatment in many cases are probably
true. The story here related of his discovery of the causes of the
Emperor Leopold’s mysterious illness is related by Wraxall and vouched
for by Michiel and is believed to be founded on fact.