letter to the Marquis de Brinvilliers:--
'Being as I am on the point of going to give account of my soul to
God, I want to assure you of my affection, which will endure to the
last moment of my life. I ask your pardon for all that I have done
that I ought not to have done. I die an honourable death, brought
upon me by my enemies. I forgive them with all my heart, and
beseech you to forgive them. I hope that you will also forgive me
for the disgrace that may be reflected on you. But remember that we
are here only for a time, and perhaps ere long you yourself will
have to go and render to God an exact account of all your actions,
even your idle words, as I am now preparing to do. Watch over our
temporal affairs and our children: bring them up in the fear of the
Lord, and yourself set them an example. On this consult Monsieur
Marillac and Madame Cousté. Offer up for me as many prayers as you
can, and be assured that I die yours devotedly,
D'AUBRAY.'
Pirot objected that what she said about her death and her enemies was
not correct. 'How so, sir?' she said. 'Are not those who have driven me
to death my enemies, and is it not a Christian sentiment to forgive them
their rancour?'
Pirot's answer was as might be expected, but it was to her a revelation
which plunged her into great astonishment.
Then the confession was resumed.
'King David was troubled at the sight of his sin,' said Pirot, 'his
heart pined with grief at the remembrance of his crimes. His flesh was
bruised, his bones were broken, his heart quailed, his face, his bread,
and his bed were bathed in his tears, his voice became hoarse with the
cries he uttered to heaven in imploring mercy. His groaning was like
that of the turtle-dove that ceaseth not. That also is the picture of
the Magdalene. She watered the feet of Christ with her tears and did not
cease to kiss them. Her holy tears which are never spent, her sacred
kisses which continue without interruption, are marks of the greatness
and constancy of her contrition for her sins, and her love for God. All
these words and a thousand others like them,' adds Pirot, 'caused her
to weep bitterly.'
Twice after dinner the priest was interrupted by the procurator-general,
who came to see in what condition the prisoner was, and if she was
disposed to confess her crimes before the court, to name her
accomplices, and reveal the nature of her poisons. The marchioness
replied that she would tell everything, but not till the morrow; that
till then she did not wish to be interrupted in her preparation for
death; and she persisted in her resolution in spite of the entreaties of
Pirot, who would rather the confession had been made at once.
She spoke of her children, displaying a tender affection for them.
'"Sir," she said to me, "I have not asked to see them; that would only
have upset both them and me. I beseech you to be a mother to them."'
Pirot replied that it was the Virgin who would serve them as mother, and
that the marchioness should pray to her to maintain them in purity and
humility all their life long. From the first, Pirot had probed his fair
prisoner's character to the bottom. 'Ah!' she said, interrupting him,
'those are grand virtues! Do you know that, humbled though I be by my
hapless present state, yet I do not feel humble enough? I am still
attached to this world's glory, and it is hard to bear the shame with
which I am loaded.' And to the priest's remarks she replied: 'I tell
myself all that when I reflect, but that does not prevent feelings of
pride and glory sometimes passing through my mind, as they are natural
to me.' And she added words that must have terrified the unhappy priest:
'At this present hour in which I speak to you, there are still moments
when I cannot regret having known the man (Sainte-Croix) whose
acquaintance has been so fatal to me, or hate his friendship which is so
dire to me and has brought upon me so many misfortunes.'
Pirot supped that evening with the prisoner; then, when night had
fallen, he withdrew, promising to return in the morning. He was in great
agitation, and on reaching his apartment he had recourse to his
breviary. 'The image of the lady I had seen all day so powerfully
possessed me that I could hardly attend to what I was reading: it seemed
to me that I was for nearly half an hour circling round _Domine, labia
mea aperies_, returning always to where I had begun. At last, seeing
that I must get on, I applied myself a little more diligently to my
reading, so as to be less distracted by this idea. But in spite of all
my close attention, I was quite three hours in reciting my office.'
He has described at length his sleeplessness, the thoughts that crowded
upon his mind, the anguish which choked him: 'I got no sleep at all.
Those who know the delicacy of my nature, how sensitive I am to the
misery and pain I see in persons who are indifferent to me, will have no
difficulty in realising the depth of my sorrow for a lady whom I had
seen so afflicted, and who was so near to my heart by reason of the
interest I was bound to take in the salvation of the soul intrusted to
me.' Stretching out his clasped hands towards heaven, he cried: 'O God,
I am greatly concerned for her whose salvation is as dear to me as my
own; I die every moment for her, and all the reward I ask in the
conflict I have to maintain with her before she closes her career is to
see her crowned with Thee!'
In the morning Pirot returned to the prisoner. 'I was taken up the
tower, where I found Father de Chevigny in tears as he closed a prayer
with the lady, who greeted me with the same courage that I had seen in
her on the previous evening.'
Madame de Brinvilliers has slept as peacefully as a child.
One of the first questions she put to her confessor related to a fear
which had arisen in her mind, and the thought of which gave her much
torture. 'Sir,' she said to me, 'you gave me yesterday some hope that I
might be saved, but I cannot have the presumption to promise myself that
that will be till after a long time in purgatory. How shall I know
whether I am in purgatory or hell?' Pirot reassured her.
Soon afterwards a message came that Madame de Brinvilliers was to
descend to hear her sentence read. 'She was prepared for death and
torture; but she had not thought of the public penance or of the fire.
She answered fearlessly, "In a moment, but just now we are finishing our
conversation, this gentleman and I." We shortly finished our talk in
great serenity.'
On leaving the prisoner, Pirot betook himself to the chapel of the
Conciergerie. 'I said mass for her, and went into the jailer's room. I
found him there, and he told me that he had accompanied her to the
torture-chamber, and that after her sentence had been read, when the
executioner approached to seize her, she looked him up and down without
saying a word, and seeing a rope in his hand, she offered him her hands
already clasped. I learned after dinner from the procurator-general that
she had been agitated at the reading of her sentence, and that she got
it read a second time.'
The sentence was dated July 16, 1676:--
'The court has declared and declares the said d'Aubray de Brinvilliers
duly accused and convicted of having poisoned Maître Dreux d'Aubray her
father, and the said d'Aubray, civil lieutenant and counsellor in the
said court, her brothers, and for reparation has condemned and condemns
the said d'Aubray de Brinvilliers to do public penance before the
principal door of the church of Paris, where she will be taken in a
cart, bare-footed, a rope on her neck, holding in her hands a lighted
torch of two pounds weight, and there on her knees to say and declare
that wickedly, from revenge and to have their property, she has poisoned
her father and two brothers, and attempted the life of her late sister,
of which she repents, and asks pardon of God, the king, and justice;
this done, to be led and conducted in the said cart to the Place de
Grève of this city, to have her head cut off there on a scaffold, which
will be erected for that purpose on the said place; her body to be
burned, and her ashes thrown to the winds: the question ordinary and
extraordinary to be first applied in order to obtain revelation of her
accomplices.'
She declared in the evening that the part of the sentence which had so
startled her at the first reading that she could not hear the rest, was
the passage which stated that she was to be put in a cart. Her pride was
aroused.
After the sentence had been read, the condemned woman was led into the
torture-chamber, and when she saw the apparatus, she said: 'Gentlemen,
it is useless, I will tell everything without torture. Not that I think
I can escape it--my sentence orders me to be tortured, and I suppose it
will not be dispensed with--but I will declare all beforehand. I have
denied everything hitherto, because I imagined I was thus defending
myself, and that I was not bound to confess anything. I have been
convinced of the contrary, and I will behave in accordance with the
instructions given me. And I can assure you that if I had seen three
weeks ago the person whom I have had given me the last twenty-four
hours, you would three weeks ago have known what you are going to learn
now.' Then raising her voice, she made a clear and complete avowal of
the crimes of her life. As to the composition of the poisons she had
employed, she knew only arsenic, vitriol, and the poison of toads. The
strongest poison was 'rarefied arsenic.' The only antidote which she had
used herself when poisoned by Sainte-Croix was milk. As to her
accomplices, apart from Sainte-Croix and her lackeys she declared that
she had never had or known any.
The judges were struck by the frankness of her words. And as we know,
she spoke at that moment with entire sincerity.
Madame de Brinvilliers underwent the cruelest torture then applied by
the Parlement of Paris: the ordeal of water. Enormous quantities of
water were introduced into the stomach of the condemned through a funnel
placed between the teeth. This water, rapidly accumulating inside the
body, produced the most horrible agonies.
Meanwhile the poor abbé Pirot was suffering as much from the torture as
the sufferer herself: 'I did not see her from half-past seven until two
o'clock in the afternoon. I can say that this was the only bad time I
had that day; apart from the time I spent without her, the rest cost me
nothing. But while she was under torture I was extraordinarily restless,
saying to myself at every moment, "They are now giving her torture."'
He took refuge in a little room where, in spite of the promises of the
jailer, he was besieged by importunate visitors. Curious ladies of the
court flocked to him. While there some one handed to him a little medal,
with a message from the wife of President Lamoignon, saying that she had
received it from the pope, with the authority to bestow indulgence on
any dying person she chose, and that she gave it to Madame de
Brinvilliers.
At last Pirot was told that he would find the marchioness lying on a
mattress near the fire. It was a thrilling moment. By his gentle and
sympathetic words, and his exhortation to repentance, Pirot had little
by little bent this character of iron. He had sent the condemned lady
resigned and submissive to the judges. But under the pangs of torture
which made strong men yield, under the brutal force she had to suffer,
all the pride of her proud nature started up, the worst instincts were
awakened. In revenge, she accused Briancourt of false witness; she
charged Desgrez, who had arrested her at Liége, with purloining
documents. Pirot found her full of hatred and stubbornness, her eyes
blazing. 'She was highly excited, her face red as fire, her eyes
gleaming, her mouth distorted. She asked for wine, which I had brought
to her at once.'
The rest of the story is really touching. The abbé Pirot watched with
the care of an anxious mother over the reputation of the lady about to
die. 'I expressly notice this circumstance,' he says, 'to undeceive
those who believe that she was too fond of wine and was guilty of taking
it to excess, and that she could not refrain from drinking it freely on
the day of her death. I saw nothing of the kind. It is true that on
Thursday, as on Friday, she had a cup from which at times she tasted as
much as a fly might swallow; but this was only to keep up her strength
and to refresh herself, at a time when the strain of recalling to mind
her whole life, in order to assure herself of any criminality there
might have been in it, much exhausted and excited her; and if care was
taken to have good wine on the day of her death, it was only to cheer
her a little in her natural depression of spirits. It has even been cast
up against her, unjustly, that a bottle was provided for her on the way
to the scaffold: I am responsible for that. I feared that her heart
might fail her, and knowing that at one time it was common to offer
criminals strong drink of some kind, to give them courage to suffer
death, I thought that, as I had seen her necessity that day of
refreshing herself now and then, it would be well to have wine ready;
and, to tell the truth, I thought a little of myself. The wine was only
used by the executioner, who drank a mouthful immediately after the
execution.'
Before setting out for her punishment the marchioness was to be allowed
to pray for a few moments in the chapel of the Conciergerie, before the
Holy Sacrament exposed for the purpose; but she had to appear there
surrounded by other prisoners, who were all admitted to the chapel when
the Host was placed on the altar. 'When we entered the vestry of the
Conciergerie, she asked the jailer for a pin to fasten the kerchief she
had on her neck, and as he went in all good faith to look for one, she
said to him: "You must not be afraid of anything now: the gentleman will
be my surety, and will answer for it that I do not want to do myself
harm." "Madam," he replied, giving her a pin, "I beg pardon, I never
mistrusted you, and if anybody ever did so, it was certainly not I." He
fell on his knees before her, and thus kneeling kissed her hands. She
begged him to pray to God for her. "Madam," he replied, his voice choked
with sobs, "I will pray for you to-morrow with all my heart."'
'Meanwhile,' says Pirot, 'she had not yet recovered the penitent spirit
which I had seen in her that morning and the night before.' She spoke of
the sentence. The punishment did not terrify her, but she was bitterly
indignant at the degrading circumstances introduced into it--the public
penance, the scattering of her ashes to the winds. Pirot replied:
'Madam, it matters nothing to your salvation whether your body be laid
in the earth or be cast into the fire. It will rise glorious from the
ashes if your soul is in grace.' And further: 'Yes, madam, this flesh
which men are soon to burn will rise one day, the same but glorified,
provided that your soul rejoices in God; it will be born again, bright
as the sun, no more to suffer, subtle and quick as a spirit.'
By degrees Pirot regained his hold upon the fair penitent. 'The cloud of
nature was dissolved, her agitation appeared no longer, and, instead of
the hard fierce looks, the biting of lips, and the other impetuous
manifestations of a shattered pride, there were only tears and sobs,
remorse for sin and yearnings for repentance, that would make one's
heart bleed. I could not keep back my tears, and for an hour and a half
I wept with her, speaking, nevertheless, with more force than I had yet
done. She was still more affected by my tears than by my words, and,
pondering on the cause of my tears, she said: "Sir, my distress must be
great to compel you to weep so much, or you take a great interest in
what concerns me."'
Then she confessed the calumnies she had been unable to avoid conceiving
under torture against Briancourt and Desgrez. Pirot was alarmed, and
when he told her that she ought to repair the fresh sin by a fresh
declaration she appeared surprised. However, the opportunity was about
to be afforded, for about six o'clock the procurator-general sent for
the abbé Pirot.
'Sir,' he said, 'this is a most vexatious woman.'
'How, sir? For my part, I am greatly consoled by the state in which I
now see her, and I hope that God will have mercy upon her.'
'Ah, sir! she confesses her crime, but she does not reveal her
accomplices.'
Shortly afterwards the procurator-general returned to the chapel along
with some commissaries and Drouet the clerk of the court. Pirot repeated
to the marchioness what had just been said to him, adding that she could
only hope for pardon if she revealed to the judges all she knew. 'Sir,'
she said, 'it is true that you told me that at first and at greater
length, and I have followed your instructions and know nothing more than
I have declared. I have already testified to these gentlemen that you
had well instructed me, and it was through that that I told them
everything. I have told everything, sir, and have nothing more to say.'
Monsieur de Palluau at once said, 'This is more than enough, sir;
adieu.' 'He went away at once, and we were given only a short time to
spend in that place, the day beginning to decline; it might be about a
quarter to seven. I have no doubt she was pretty tired of so much
questioning; however, I saw not the shadow of a complaint, so great was
her courtesy.' Before the procurator-general and the rest retired,
Pirot, with the authority of the prisoner, cleared Briancourt and
Desgrez from the accusations brought against them in the
torture-chamber.
Madame de Brinvilliers remained a moment longer prostrate before the
altar, then went out to meet her doom. At this moment the executioner
came up to speak of 'a saddler to whom she owed the balance of the price
of a carriage; she told him shortly that she would see to it, and said
that very sweetly, but as she would have spoken to a man much inferior
to herself.'
As she left the chapel, she stumbled upon some fifty people of rank--the
Countess de Soissons, Mademoiselle de Lendovie, Madame de Roquelaure,
the Abbé de Chaluset, all jostling one another to see her. Her pride
was offended, and after freely staring at them, she said to her
confessor: 'Sir, what a strange curiosity!'
She went on, barefooted, clothed in the coarse linen shirt of condemned
criminals, holding in one hand the penitent's candle, and in the other a
crucifix.
* * * * *
On leaving the Conciergerie she was lifted into the cart. 'It was one of
the smaller carts you see in the streets loaded with rubbish; it was
very short and narrow, and I feared there was not room enough for her
and me. Yet four of us got in, the executioner's assistant sitting on
the board which closed it in front, with his feet on the shafts on
either side of the horse. She and I sat on the straw put down to cover
up the wood, and the executioner stood upright at the back. She got in
first, and leant her back against the front-board and against the side,
slightly at an angle. I was near her, pressing against her to make room
for the executioner's feet, my back against the side of the cart, and my
knees doubled up uncomfortably.'
The cart proceeded slowly towards the Place de Grève, which extended
from the Hôtel de Ville to the Seine. It was not easy to get through the
crowd which pressed around it. The streets were black with people, and
the windows crowded with sightseers. At this moment the lady's features
underwent a sudden change of expression: 'They were dreadfully
convulsed, the keenest agony being expressed in the eyes, and the whole
countenance wild.' 'Sir,' she said to her confessor, 'would it be
possible, after all that is passing now, for Monsieur de Brinvilliers to
have so little feeling as to remain in this world?'
Pirot answered as best he could, endeavouring to ease her mind; but what
he said fell on deaf ears, for the marchioness 'then suffered one of the
strongest convulsions of her nature in the vivid apprehension of so much
shame. Her face contracted, her brows were knitted, her eyes flashed,
her mouth was distorted, and her whole aspect was embittered.' 'I do not
think,' adds Pirot, 'that there was a moment in all the time that I had
been with her when her appearance betokened more indignation, and I am
not surprised that Monsieur Le Brun, who is said to have seen her at
that spot, where he could look close at her for some minutes, made so
fiery and terrible a head as he is said to have done in the portrait he
took of her.' Le Brun's sketch is now No. 853 at the exhibition of the
Louvre; it is in red and black chalks. It is an admirable drawing,
unquestionably the artist's masterpiece. Pirot is sketched in silhouette
beside the lady.
As the cart passed slowly through the crowd, voices were raised crying
out for blood, and heaping curse on curse; but others spoke pitiful
words, and she heard prayers for her salvation. There was a sudden
revulsion of opinion in her favour, which grew stronger and stronger
till the hour of her death.
The shirt in which she was clothed filled her with amazement. 'Sir,' she
said to her confessor, 'look; I am dressed all in white.'
All at once a new contraction marked her features. She had just noticed
Desgrez riding near her, the man who had arrested her at Liége, and
subjected her to some rough treatment. She asked the executioner to
move so as to hide this man from her; then she felt remorse for this
'delicacy,' and asked the executioner to return to his former position.
'It was the last time her countenance showed any grimace,' says Pirot.
From that moment she was wholly under the fortifying influence of the
priest who assisted her. Hope arose in her soul, more and more clear and
radiant, and gave strength to her heart.
She knelt down on the step of the great door of Notre Dame, and there
repeated with docility the formula dictated by the executioner, in which
she publicly confessed her crimes. 'Some people say that she hesitated
in saying her father's name,' observes Pirot; 'but I noticed nothing of
the sort.'
Then they remounted the cart to wend towards the Place de Grève. 'Not a
word of reproach or complaint against any one escaped her; she showed no
sign of vulgar fear. If she dreaded death, it was only in anticipation
of the judgment of God, and neither the sight of the Grève, the
proximity of the scaffold, nor the appearance of all the terrible
apparatus used in this kind of execution gave her the least shadow of
fright.'
The cart stopped. The executioner said to her: 'Madam, you must
persevere: it is not enough to have come here and to have responded
hitherto to what this gentleman has been saying, you must go on to the
end as you have begun.' 'This he said in a noticeably humane manner,'
observes Pirot, 'and I was edified by it. It is true that she answered
never a word, but she courteously bent her head as though to show that
she took well what he had said and that she meant to continue in the
temper in which he saw her. He confessed to me that he was surprised at
her firmness.'
At this moment a clerk of the Parlement appeared. The commissaries were
sitting in the Hôtel de Ville ready to receive any declaration Madame de
Brinvilliers might still have to make about her accomplices. 'Sir,' she
replied, 'I have no more to say; I have told all I know.' She renewed
the declaration whereby she freed Briancourt and Desgrez from the
accusations fabricated against them at her torture.