“Madame de Beausoleil, astronomer and alchemist in the seventeenth
century, who came from Germany to France in the exercise of her
profession, was incarcerated at Vincennes in 1641, by order of Cardinal
Richelieu; the date of her death is unknown.” Such is all that the great
French biographical dictionaries have to say concerning a woman of
surprising talent, indomitable perseverance, and a martyr of science. She
was the first to draw attention to the mineral resources of France, and to
indicate the profit which might accrue to the treasury by the working of
the mines. And how did France repay her services? By despoiling her of her
private wealth, by casting her into prison, and leaving her to perish
forgotten in its dungeons. And even now her very name and services are
passed over and ignored. A sad chapter is that in the history of science
which relates the names of its martyrs, and records their services and the
ingratitude and ignominy with which they have been repaid. Among these
martyrs the good Baroness of Beausoleil deserves commemoration, and
merits now the attention that the age in which she lived refused to yield
to her.
The date and place of her birth cannot be fixed with accuracy; but, as a
memoir published in 1640 says that for thirty years she had been engaged
in mineralogical studies, it seems probable that she was born about 1590.
She belonged to the noble family of Bertereau, in the Touraine; her
Christian name was Martine. In 1610 she married Jean du Châtelet, Baron de
Beausoleil and d’Auffenbach, a Brabantine nobleman of great learning and
abilities. The Baron had borne arms in his youth, but his natural tastes
lay in the direction of natural philosophy, and his attention was chiefly
directed to mineralogy, then a science in its earliest infancy. Following
the bent of his inclinations, and impelled by the desire of obtaining a
practical acquaintance with the working of mines, and the character and
conditions of the different metal ores _in situ_, he visited in order the
mines of Germany, Hungary, Bohemia, Tyrol, Silesia, Moravia, Poland,
Sweden, Italy, Spain, Scotland, and England. By this means he obtained a
practical knowledge of his subject possessed by no other in his day, and
an intimate acquaintance with ores and their indications, which made him
the first of mineralogists. The German Emperors, Rudolph and Matthias,
recognised his abilities, and constituted him Commissary-General of the
Hungarian mines. The Archduke Leopold created him Director-in-Chief of
the Trentin and Tyrolean mines, and the Dukes of Bavaria, Nieubourg, and
Cleves conferred upon him similar offices in their territories; lastly, a
brevet of like nature was given him by the Pope for the States of the
Church. In 1600, at the recommendation of Pierre de Beringhen,
Controller-General of the French mines, the Baron came to France.
Ten years after he married Martine de Bertereau, who thenceforth became
his companion in all his travels, his fellow-labourer in the same field of
science, and who even surpassed him in ability and skill in detecting the
indications of ore. The couple examined together the German, Italian, and
Swedish mines. She then crossed the Atlantic to investigate those of the
New World. She next applied herself to the study of chemistry, geometry,
hydraulics, and mechanics, and became accomplished in each of these
sciences. She was able to speak fluently Italian, German, English,
Spanish, French, and was a Latin and Hebrew scholar. In 1626, Cinq-Mars,
then superintendent of the mines, gave the Baron a commission to traverse
several of the provinces, and open mines wherever he found indications of
ore. Whilst thus engaged, the Baron published a volume on _The True
Philosophy concerning the First Matter of Minerals_, a work of no great
value, as it is overloaded with the absurd theories of the metamorphosis
of metals then in vogue.
The course of his investigations led him and his wife to Morlaix, in
Brittany, and there, in 1627, an event took place which gave them
considerable annoyance, as well as proving a severe pecuniary loss. The
Baron was engaged in examining a mine in the forest of Buisson-Rochemarée,
and his wife was at Rennes seeing to the registration of their commission.
Taking advantage of the absence of both at the same time, a provincial
provost, Touche-Grippé by name, of the race of _Dogberry_, made an entry
into their house, under the plea of search after magical apparatus, for,
as the provost said, “How can mortal man discover what is underground
without diabolical aid?” On this pretext, then, the house was ransacked,
and _Dogberry_ laid violent hands on every article which aroused his
curiosity or attracted his cupidity. The boxes were broken open, the
cupboards burst into, the drawers searched, and gold, silver, jewels,
mineralogical specimens, scientific instruments, legal documents, notes of
observations made in the course of travel, every fragment of manuscript,
private letters, and maps, were carried off by Touche-Grippé and
appropriated to his own use.
On the return of the Baron and Baroness to Morlaix they found that, in
addition to this robbery in the name of justice, a charge was laid against
them of magic. They were constrained to appear before Touche-Grippé and a
fellow-magistrate of like nature, and free themselves of the charge. They
were allowed to depart exculpated, but without their property, which the
magistrate refused to surrender. The Baron appealed to the Parliament of
Brittany, but without obtaining any redress; he then applied to that of
Paris, but Touche-Grippé had friends at court, and the appeal of the Baron
was rejected. Twelve years after, in 1640, we find the Baroness still
asking for redress, and still in vain.
The failure of the couple in obtaining any attention so irritated them
that they left France and returned to Germany, which had always recognised
their services, and treated them with the respect due to their abilities
and attainments. Ferdinand II. at once placed the Baron de Beausoleil in
charge of the Hungarian mines.
But, unfortunately, the nobleman and his wife were not content to remain
in Germany, and after a few years resolved on trying their fortune once
more in France. This time they determined on carrying on their operations
upon a more extensive scale, and in 1632 they entered the kingdom of Louis
XIII., accompanied by fifty German and ten Hungarian miners, together with
private servants. The king at once renewed the commission given by
Cinq-Mars in 1626, and the Baron commenced a series of explorations in
Brittany and in the south of France. The Parliaments of Dijon and Pau
having objected to the commission, the king issued an order to them to
recognise the Baron and his wife, and to aid them in their search after
minerals by affording them every facility which lay in their power.
Notwithstanding this apparent royal support, the two mineralogists
obtained no pecuniary assistance from Government, but were expected to
carry on all their operations at their private expense. The maintenance of
sixty miners, the prosecution of extensive works, and the travelling from
province to province, could not fail to reduce the means of the couple
very considerably. A little glory might accrue to them, but they were sure
of becoming the objects of jealousy; they obtained praise from the king,
but no money; and after having expended 30,000 livres--in fact, their
whole fortune--they were as far from obtaining any pecuniary
acknowledgment of their services as they were when first entering France.
In 1632 the Baroness addressed a memoir to the king on the mineral
treasures of the country; it was entitled, “Veritable Declarations made to
the King and his Council of the rich and inestimable Treasures lately
discovered in the Kingdom”; but as this met with no response, she
reprinted it under the title “Veritable Declarations of the Discovery of
Mines and Minerals in France, by means of which his Majesty and his
subjects will be enabled to do without Foreign Mineral Trade; also
concerning the Properties of Certain Sources and Mineral Waters lately
discovered at Château-Thierry by Madame Martine de Bertereau, Baroness de
Beausoleil.” In this interesting memoir one hundred and fifty mines are
indicated as having been discovered by the Baron and his wife. The
Government, satisfied of the value of the services of the two foreigners,
but unwilling, for all that, to pay them, now, as acknowledgment,
conferred on them a new brevet, giving them extended powers, and elevating
the Baron to the grade of Inspector-General of all the mines in France. If
glory alone could suffice as a reward to merit, the Baron du Châtelet and
Madame de Bertereau must have felt content with the dignity now conferred
upon them. But a glory which cost them their whole fortune, and which in
no way repaid their labours, must have seemed to them a bitter deception.
Little by little the worthy couple had to reduce their retinue and to
curtail their expenses, and after ten years of unrequited exertion in
behalf of the crown, their train was scanty enough. However, their hopes
were not yet exhausted, promises had been made to them of the most
brilliant description, and they relied upon the honour of the French crown
to redeem them.
In 1640 the Baroness appealed to Cardinal Richelieu in a pamphlet entitled
“La Restitution de Pluton à l’Eminentissime Cardinal Duc de Richelieu,” a
second title-page adds, “with a refutation of those who believe that mines
and subterranean matters are only discovered by magic and by the aid of
the devil.”
Whether the Cardinal read the memoir or not, we cannot say, but
undoubtedly he perused the dedicatory epistle, or, at all events, the
sonnet it contains, which sums up its flatteries and hyperbolic
compliments.
Esprit prodigieux, chef-d’œuvre de nature,
Elixir épuré de tous les grands esprits,
Puisque vous conduisez notre bonne aventure
Arrêtez un peu l’œil sur ces divins écrits.
Ces écrits sont dressés pour une architecture,
Dont la sainte beauté vous rendra tout épris;
Le soleil et les cieux conduisent la structure,
Et vous, vous conduisez cet ouvrage entrepris.
La France et les Français vous demandent les mines;
L’or, l’argent, et l’azur, l’aimant, les calamines,
Sont des trésors cachés par l’esprit de Dieu.
Si vous autorisez ce que l’on vous propose,
Vous verrez, Monseigneur, que, sans métamorphose,
La France deviendra bientôt un _Riche-Lieu_.
_The Restitution of Pluto_ is a book most interesting, not only on account
of the erudition and rare acquaintance with natural philosophy which it
displays, but also from the stately and vigorous writing of the authoress.
It contains passages glowing with energy, and is composed in a style of
dignified and manly eloquence. Maybe the publication of this work opened
the eyes of the Cardinal to the fact that the State certainly was indebted
to this illustrious couple for services gratuitously rendered during
upwards of ten years. The most convenient method of paying them was that
of silencing the voices which cried for acknowledgment, and thus stifling
the claims on the royal exchequer. Slanderous reports were circulated
relative to the Beausoleils, and they were accused of various crimes. The
suspicion of magic, which had attached to them from the time of the
inquisition of the provost of Morlaix, was revived, and the prejudices of
the age tended to give it force to overthrow the noble pair. Old
superstitions concerning gnomes of the mines and subterranean demons were
not yet extinct. The Baroness herself believed in them, and in one of her
works speaks of her having encountered some of them. In the mines of
Neusol and Chemnitz in Hungary, she says, “I saw little dwarfs about three
or four palms high, old, and dressed like miners, that is, clothed in an
old suit, and with a leather apron, a white tunic and cap, a lamp and
staff in hand--terrible spectres to those who are unaccustomed to mines.”
Several times already, as appears from her writings, she and her husband
had been exposed to the violence of the rude and ignorant rustics, who
thought their scientific instruments means for conjuring up the devil, and
the authorities were, as we have seen at Morlaix, quite prepared to second
the popular superstition when profit could be obtained thereby. The
divining rod, then much in vogue in Germany, was used by the Baron and his
wife, who had strong belief in its magnetic properties, and the employment
of it may have given some colour to the charges now raised against them on
all sides of being necromancers in league with evil spirits.
In 1642, by order of Cardinal Richelieu, the Baron de Beausoleil was cast
into the Bastille, and the Baroness was shut up in the state prison of
Vincennes, without trial and sentence. Thus, after forty years of labour
together in the same pursuits, in the same manner of life, in the decline
of their days this worthy couple were separated, to spend the rest of
their life in prison. Such was the reward accorded to them for their
devotion to the cause of science, and the recompense for the benefits they
had afforded to France.
The Baroness died in the prison of Vincennes. The date of her death is
unknown, but probably it was not long deferred. Her ardent soul would not
long endure the torture of imprisonment, and the sorrows of finding all
her labours repaid with ingratitude. Her husband died in the Bastille
after lingering for three years behind bars.
One last glimpse of the noble woman we obtain from the _Mémoires de
Lancelot touchant la vie de M. de Saint-Cyran_. The Abbé de Saint-Cyran
was shut up in Vincennes in 1638 as a Jansenist. On the 14th of May in
that year he was arrested by Richelieu, who then made use of the
remarkable words, “Had Luther and Calvin been imprisoned the moment they
began to dogmatise, Government would have been spared much trouble.”
Saint-Cyran remained in Vincennes till 1642. He died the next year. During
his imprisonment he observed in church the Baroness de Beausoleil and her
daughter, prisoners like himself. Touched with the scantiness of their
clothing, he endeavoured to procure for them the dresses which they
needed, and those necessaries which the sickness of the noble lady
demanded. The following are the words of the memoir:--“Whilst M. de
Saint-Cyran was in Vincennes he met a lady named the Baroness de
Beausoleil, who was there with her daughter, whilst her husband was
prisoner in the Bastille. Seeing her in church, poorly clad, he made
inquiries about her, and sent to Madame le Maître, telling her whom he had
seen, and begging her to purchase some chemises for this person, expressly
desiring that they might be long, for nothing escaped his charity, and
also that the material should be good. When they had been sent, it was
ascertained that what had been made for the mother would only fit the
daughter, and he gave them to the latter, and ordered fresh ones for the
mother. Afterwards he requested to have fustian under-garments, shoes and
stockings, sent to them according to measures which he procured, and also
after the fashion of the day.
“At the approach of winter he wrote to say that he found that the lady was
menaced with dropsy, and that she was extremely sensitive to cold. He
therefore begged the person I have mentioned to make for her a dress of
thick ratteen, of the best description, and trimmed with black lace,
because he heard that such was the fashion, and he added that his maxim
was, that people should be served according to their rank. He also had a
gown made for the daughter.... He also sent to the Bastille to have the
husband well dressed; and I know that the person who brought the tailor to
him asked him to choose his material and the trimmings, for he had orders
to have him dressed as suited his taste.”
In Saint-Cyran’s own letters we find additional details, very sad they
are, but full of interest to those who have followed this worthy couple
through their labours into disgrace.
“This letter,” writes the Abbé to his friend M. de Rebours, “is to entreat
you, at your convenience, to execute with the utmost secrecy, without
allowing it to transpire who sends you and who you are who make the
inquiries, a work of great charity upon which I am engaged. There is a
person imprisoned here who is the authoress of the book I send you; will
you kindly go to M. Maréchal, glassmaker, and consequently a gentleman,
and inquire what has become of the children of the Baroness de Beausoleil,
a German lady; and lest he should mistrust you, say you do it in charity;
and should he still have suspicions, promise him any token of sincerity
which he may require. He lives near the House of Charity in the Faubourg
St. Germain. Perhaps you had better inquire at the House of Charity for M.
Maréchal, and of the girl named Madlle. Barbe, with whom the Baron de
Beausoleil, now in the Bastille, and his wife, now here in prison, had
left one of their daughters, named Anne du Châtelet, aged twelve, whom her
mother had instructed in Latin, so as to make her useful in the search
after mines, a science hereditary in the family. By this means you may be
able to learn what has become of the other children.
“If you know yourself, or by any of your friends, M. Maturel, advocate, or
his brother, who favoured these good people, and who know all their
affairs, and are aware of all the circumstances of the robbery committed
upon them in Brittany, and estimated at a hundred thousand crowns, you
will obtain their entire confidence, and be able to learn what has become
of the children. This must be done with the utmost circumspection. You
must say that your friends, who lived formerly in Paris, want to know
particulars of the family. The eldest son, having gone to the Bastille
without proper precautions, to make inquiries concerning his father, was
arrested. But we desire to learn something about the other children, some
five or six, and who has got charge of them.... What a strange thing it
is, that there is no surer means of falling into trouble than to love the
faith and Catholic verity.”
Such is the last glimpse we obtain of this unfortunate family. Two noble
and devoted servants of science cast into dungeons, and their children
scattered or imprisoned--because they served the State too well.
On the 4th of December 1642 Richelieu was called to his account before the
throne of a just Judge, to answer for that as well as his other crimes;
and in another century the accursed Bastille was torn down stone from
stone by an exasperated people and laid low in the dust, never to rise
again.