of the said year, which condemned Françoise Filastre and Jacques Joseph
Cotton to death, they have been put to torture ordinary and
extraordinary; but the said Filastre having made, both at and apart from
torture, declarations of great importance, and the king having seen the
report containing fresh declarations made by her in the chapel of the
said château of the Bastille before going to execution, his Majesty, for
considerations important to his service, was unwilling that the said
matters should be laid in gross before the Chambre, and gave orders to
Monsieur Boucherat, President of the said court, to close the sittings.'
From that day there was open conflict between the lieutenant of police
on the one hand and the ministers supported by all the ladies and
courtiers on the other. 'The king,' wrote La Reynie's secretaries, 'was
strongly urged by the courtiers, and even by persons in high places, to
close the Chambre entirely, under various pretexts, the most specious of
which was that a longer investigation of the poisoning cases would bring
the nation into discredit abroad.' La Reynie pleaded in answer the
respect due to justice, the duty incumbent on the king to have the
greatest criminals who had ever appeared in his kingdom brought to trial
and punished, and finally, the necessity of purging France of these
appalling practices in poison and sacrilege, which had taken in a few
years proportions that no one would have conceived possible. He went to
Versailles and talked to the king for four days in succession, and for
four hours each day. It is a pity that we have no record of the words he
addressed to the king and his ministers. Single-handed, he vanquished
them all.
'Monsieur de la Reynie having been heard by the king in his cabinet, in
presence of the Chancellor and Monsieur de Colbert and the Marquis de
Louvois, on four different days, and for four hours each day, his
Majesty at length resolved on the continuation of the Chambre, and
ordered Monsieur de la Reynie to continue his ordinary investigations;
nevertheless, to take no steps on any of the declarations contained in
the reports of the torture and execution of La Filastre, which his
Majesty, for considerations relating to his service, does not wish to be
divulged.'
The court sitting at the Arsenal resumed its labours on May 19, 1681,
but on the condition laid down by the king that nothing further should
be done in regard to the declarations in which Madame de Montespan had
been involved. On December 17, the facts which he had wished to keep
from the knowledge of the judges reappeared with new force at the
examination of La Joly. Louvois at once wrote to Bazin de Bezons, the
fellow-commissioner of La Reynie, instructing him to be careful to put
all these declarations into separate portfolios not to be shown to the
judges. La Reynie in fact perceived that the difficulties of the Court,
in regard to a regular performance of its duties, were increasing from
day to day, and it was not long before he understood, and made his
colleagues see also, that the mere fact of the suppression of the report
containing the replies of Filastre under torture rendered it impossible
to investigate legally the cases of the principal prisoners. This he
clearly demonstrated in notes really admirable in their outspokenness
and sound judgment. And to measure their dignity and courage, we must
remember that his words were addressed directly to Louvois and Louis
XIV. But Louis' character was not great enough to allow him to sacrifice
his pride to the public good, to consent to such a humiliation in the
eyes of his subjects and of Europe. He adhered to his veto on the
communication of the Montespan documents to the Chambre. On his part, La
Reynie remained inflexible, refusing to allow a case to be tried in
which the whole of the documents were not submitted to the court. Yet
something had to be done: a Chamber must be either open or shut.
After having done everything possible to enable justice to follow its
course in complete independence, so as to reach the guilty however
high-placed they were, La Reynie indicated the only solution which would
permit the magistrates--since they were not allowed to fulfil their duty
to the full--not to fail in so much of their duty as lay in the limited
field still open to them.
There were at that time in France tribunals in which judges sat, and
_lettres de cachet_ which operated without legal formalities, at the
mere command of the king. Elsewhere we have shown how, almost at the
same period, d'Aguesseau, the most illustrious of French judges, asked
for _lettres de cachet_ in the course of a case in which he was engaged.
Like d'Aguesseau, La Reynie might have said: 'I am not accused of a
fondness for extraordinary ways and a hatred of the forms known to
justice, yet I find here many reasons for having recourse to orders from
the king' (_lettres de cachet_).
'His Majesty being unwilling to give the Chambre cognisance of certain
facts,' he wrote on April 17, 1681, to Louvois, 'or that it should try
certain prisoners and certain accused parties, reserving them to himself
because of their importance, to deal with them through his own justice
and the other means he proposes to make use of, it seems to me that we
can arrive at the end the king is aiming at by very simple methods, and
there can be no objection since the commissioners of the Chambre will
have no knowledge of the matters concerning which they are not to be
judges.'
What was required, according to La Reynie, was to give up the
investigation of the cases of those who had knowledge of facts
implicating Madame de Montespan; and since it was impossible to try them
according to the rules of justice, to be satisfied with imprisoning them
under _lettres de cachet_ in the royal fortresses. In face of the
attitude taken up by La Reynie in refusing to proceed to a judgment
which would violate the traditional forms and the securities they
granted to the accused, the king and his ministers had perforce to
yield.
La Reynie enumerates a long list of the criminals charged with monstrous
crimes who hoped by this means to escape the rigour of trial, the
anguish of torture and death by the stake or the gibbet, and he adds:--
'There are 147 prisoners at the Bastille and Vincennes; of this number
there is not one against whom there are not serious charges of poisoning
or dealings in poison, and further charges of sacrilege and impiety. The
majority of these criminals are likely to escape punishment.
'La Trianon, an abominable woman, in regard to the nature of her crimes
and her dealings with poison, cannot be tried, and the public, in losing
the satisfaction of an example, is no doubt losing also the fruit of
some new discovery and the total conviction of her accomplices.
'Nor can the woman Chappelain be tried, because La Filastre was
confronted with her: a woman of large connection, long devoted to the
study of poisons, suspected of several poisonings, continually
practising impieties, sacrilege, and sorcery; accused by La Filastre of
having taught her the practice of her abominations with priests; deeply
implicated in the case of Vanens.
'For the same reasons, Galet cannot be tried; although a peasant, a
dangerous man, and dealing openly in poisons.
'Lepreux, a priest of Notre Dame, engaged in the same practices as La
Chappelain, accused of sacrificing the child of La Filastre to the
devil.
'Guibourg--this man, who cannot be compared to any other in regard to
the number of his poisonings, his dealings with poison and sorcery, his
sacrilege and impiety, knowing and known by every notorious criminal,
convicted of a great number of horrible crimes--this man, who has
mutilated and sacrificed several children; who, apart from the sacrilege
of which he is convicted, confesses to inconceivable abominations; who
says he has practised by diabolical means against the life of the king;
of whom we hear every day new and execrable things, and who is loaded
with accusations of crimes against God and king--he, too, will assure
impunity to other criminals.
'His concubine, the woman Chanfrain, guilty with him of the murder of
some of her children, who has shared in some of Guibourg's sacrifices,
and who, according to appearances and the turn the case was taking, was
the infamous altar on which he performed his ordinary abominations, will
also remain unpunished.
'There is also a large number of other accused persons who will remain
free from punishment for their crimes. The girl Monvoisin cannot be
tried, nor Mariette, whatever may come to light about him. Latour,
Vautier, and his wife will not only remain unpunished, but, for
considerations prompting to the concealment of their secret crimes,
their case will not be heard through.'
La Reynie says further, not without a touch of melancholy: 'In all this
there is reason to wonder at the providence of God. If Mariette had been
captured before the trial of La Voisin, and they had spoken about the
business of Madame de Montespan, this monster (La Voisin) would have
escaped justice, and La Filastre also, if she had put forward what she
said at her torture.'
It remained to close the Chambre without too great a shock to public
opinion, or leading people to believe that after so much noise the whole
thing was to be smothered. 'We must wind up the Chambre,' writes La
Reynie, 'but we must avoid doing so with an appearance of weariness and
disgust combined, so that the large number of persons interested may not
find occasion to discredit justice, and so that the wicked people who
remain, known or unknown, may not cease to be in terror, or, losing
their fear, recommence their ill-deeds with the same freedom as they had
before.'
The magistrates who composed the Chambre were themselves keenly desirous
that its closing should be announced. Among other reasons, the
lieutenant of police gives their reluctance and aversion to condemn, 'a
reluctance which good men cannot help feeling,' and their sorrow at not
being able to try the principal offenders.
It was important, then, not to appear to close the Chambre from any
feeling of weariness, and above all not to awake any suspicion of the
real causes at work. The public was already murmuring. Compelled as they
were, on account of the complicity of Madame de Montespan, to allow all
the accused who had had dealings with La Voisin to go scot-free--to wit,
the Abbé Guibourg, Lesage, and other guilty persons--the judges took up
again the case of Vanens, which had lain dormant. But here again the
principal actor, Vanens, escaped the rigour of the law through his
connection with the favourite. The commissioners of the Chambre had the
good luck to find unexpectedly, in one of the reports, a denunciation
against a certain Pinon du Martroy, a councillor to the Parlement, who
had been involved in the disgrace of Fouquet. At the time when judgment
had been passed on the financiers after the fall of Fouquet, the goods
of Pinon had been seized, and Guibourg said that, to wreak vengeance and
secure Fouquet's release from prison, he had performed incantations
against the king, as well as practised sorcery. Pinon was dead, but he
was said to have had a confidant in Jean Maillard, auditor to the
exchequer. This man was secured, and as he occupied a prominent
position, his case created a great sensation. He was condemned on
February 20, 1682, for having 'known and not revealed the detestable
designs formed against the person of the king.' The councillor denied
everything at his torture, and adhered to his denial till the moment of
his death. It is certain that among the various accusations brought
before the commissioners of the Chambre Ardente, those directed against
Maillard are among those that were least fully proved. The execution
took place on February 21, and, contrary to custom, at midday.
It was followed on July 16, 1682, by that of La Chaboissière, Vanens'
valet. This wretch was condemned to be hanged after preliminary torture.
He was less guilty than Vanens, of whom he had only been the tool; but
his low rank had put him beyond the pale. Then the proceedings were
brought to a close in due form, without any appearance of a serious
miscarriage of justice in the eyes of the crowd. The Chambre Ardente was
finally closed by a _lettre de cachet_ of July 21, 1682.
La Reynie did not consider that his work was yet done. In his
correspondence with Louvois, he had constantly harped on the idea that
they should profit by the experience gained during the long
investigations of the court to avoid the recurrence of such crimes. He
was intrusted, along with Colbert, with the drafting of an order. On
August 30, 1682, appeared the famous edict against soothsayers and
poisoners, which was the joint work of these two great men; magicians
and sorceresses were driven from France, the manufacture and sale of
poisons necessary in trade and medicine were regulated by ordinances
which have triumphed over time and revolutions, and after two centuries
are still in force to-day.
* * * * *
The numerous prisoners whose connection, close or remote, with the
machinations of Madame de Montespan safe-guarded them from trial, were
transferred under _lettre de cachet_ into different fortresses--those
which appeared the safest in the kingdom. With excessive precaution,
Louvois ordered that each of them should be fastened to his prison by an
iron chain, one link of which was to be imbedded in the wall and another
fixed to the person of the prisoner.
All these unhappy creatures remained in this condition till their death,
some of them for more than forty years. The minister sent the most
rigorous instructions to prevent them from holding communication with
anybody outside, and to secure that the staff employed in providing for
their material and spiritual wants should be reduced to the lowest
possible number and composed of persons in whom entire confidence might
be placed. And to destroy in advance any effect which the revelations of
the prisoners might make on the minds of the governors of citadels and
fortresses, Louvois sent these officers word that their new guests were
villains who had invented infamous calumnies against Madame de
Montespan, the falsity of which had been proved before the Chambre, and
that if any of them happened to open his lips on the subject, he was to
be answered at once with a sound flogging.
The most important of the prisoners--Guibourg, Lesage, Galet, and
Romani--were conveyed to the citadel of Besançon. Guibourg died there
three years after his entrance.
Fourteen women were taken to the castle of St. André de Salins. Louvois
wrote in regard to them on August 26, 1682, to the lord-lieutenant of
Franche-Comté:--
'The king having thought fit to send to the château of St. André de
Salins some of the people who were arrested in virtue of warrants of the
court that dealt with the matter of the poisons, his Majesty has
commanded me to inform you that his intention is that you prepare two
rooms in the said château, so that six of these prisoners may be kept
safely in each of them, the which prisoners are to have each a mattress
in the place arranged for them, and to be fastened either by a hand or a
foot to a chain which shall be fastened to the wall, the said chain
however to be long enough not to prevent them from lying down. As these
people are criminals who deserve extreme penalties, the intention of the
king is that they be thus fastened for fear they should injure the
people set to guard them, who will go in and out to bring them food and
attend to them generally. His Majesty's intention is that you prepare
two similar rooms in the citadel of Besançon, so that twelve of the
prisoners may be kept securely there. You will observe that these rooms
are to be so situated that no one can hear what these people say.'
Auzillon, one of the staff of the provost of the Isle de France,
escorted the principal sorceresses, Pelletier, Poulain, Delaporte, the
girl Monvoisin, and Catherine Leroy, to the citadel of Belle-Isle-en-Mer.
La Chappelain, the companion of La Filastre, was imprisoned in the
castle of Villefranche, where she died forty years later, on June 4,
1724. She lived there in company with another sorceress who, like her,
had been withdrawn from the jurisdiction of the Chambre Ardente, and for
the same reasons--namely, La Guesdon.
The governor of Villefranche wrote in August 1717, that 'of two old
prisoners of state for poison, the survivors of four who had been locked
up there for thirty-six years, La Guesdon died on the 15th instant,
leaving forty-five livres in silver, which she had saved during that
time out of her eight sous a day for food: of these she instructed her
surviving companion to take what she needed for her personal use, and
to use the balance in paying for prayers for her--this is one pensioner
the less for the king. The woman was seventy-six years old; the survivor
(La Chappelain) is no younger. They were in the same room.'
Finally, a few prisoners at the Bastille and Vincennes, wholly ignorant
of the poison affair, and others whose innocence was recognised by the
commissioners of the Chambre Ardente, had been shut up, unluckily for
themselves, in the same room with prisoners implicated in the crimes of
Madame de Montespan. This chance meeting condemned them to perpetual
confinement.
'Manon Bosse,' writes La Reynie, 'was sent to the nuns of Baffens, at
Besançon, under the name of Mademoiselle Manon Dubosc, where the king
pensioned her to the tune of 250 livres; she was never liberated,
because she had been locked up with the daughter of La Voisin, who had
told her everything.'
La Gaignière, under the same circumstances, was put in the common
workhouse. Nanon Aubert also had been placed with La Voisin's daughter:
'This was the reason that she was not set at liberty, but in 1683 she
was placed with the Ursulines of Besançon, and afterwards with those of
Vesoul, with orders to say that she was detained for dealings with a
lady of quality accused of poison, and she was made to pass for a young
lady of rank. The king payed a pension of 250 livres per annum.'
The most characteristic example is that of Lemaire, brother of the woman
Vertemart. His complete innocence was absolutely proved. There was no
possible charge against him but his having been shut up with the Abbé
Guibourg, who 'had told him everything.' On August 4, 1681, Louvois
wrote to La Reynie: 'At present Lemaire is not to be set at liberty. I
have written to Desgrez what will enable him, if he shows him my letter,
to endure his long detention with less pain.' Louvois and Louis XIV were
struck by the revolting iniquity of this detention. In August 1682,
Louvois sent to Lemaire the considerable sum of 150 pistoles, promising
to forward an equal sum every year on condition that he took himself out
of the kingdom, never set foot in it again all his life, and spoke to
nobody in the world of what he had heard while at Vincennes. If he ever
broke one of these engagements, the king would have him seized and
incarcerated for the rest of his days.
* * * * *
La Reynie died on June 14, 1709, at the age of eighty years. In his will
there is a touching clause which depicts this excellent man to the life.
He asks that his body may be interred in the parish cemetery, and not in
the church, 'being unwilling that my corpse should be laid in a spot
where the faithful assemble, and that the decay of my body should
increase the pollution of the air, and thereby endanger the life of
ministers and people.' The lieutenant of police, who had devoted a part
of his life to the sanitation and good government of the great city
confided to his administration, gave an excellent practical lesson on
his death-bed, doubtless to the wounding of his dearest sentiments as a
Catholic and a believer.
Gabriel Nicolas de la Reynie was in fact a character of rare worth. In
our account of him, we have not had to show him as the man of fine
culture, the scholar in constant correspondence with Baluze, purchasing
and collecting Greek and Latin manuscripts, the skilled patron of the
printing-press, the bibliophile to whom we owe the preservation of the
original text of Molière. He was a worthy representative of his period,
the great epoch in French history. The seventeenth century attained the
furthest extremes in good as in evil. It was then that France produced
her greatest captains, her greatest statesmen, her most illustrious
judges; it was then that the greatest names in literature, art,
philosophy, and scholarship dazzled the world; then that the 'daughters
of charity' displayed their devotion; that Madame de Chantal diffused
around her the sweet perfume of her virtues; but it was then, too, that
a Marquise de Brinvilliers extended the boundaries of crime, and an Abbé
de Guibourg murdered children upon an altar, over the bare body of a
Marquise de Montespan.
THE DEATH OF 'MADAME'[12]
Who has not read Bossuet's funeral oration on Henrietta Anne of England,
Duchess of Orleans? Who has not thrilled at the echo of that powerful
and poignant apostrophe?--'O woful night! O awful night, when there rang
through the air like a sudden thunderclap the amazing tidings, Madame is
dying, Madame is dead!... Madame passed from morn to eve like the grass
of the field. In the morning she flourished, with what graces you know;
in the evening we saw her cut down.... What awful speed! In nine hours
the work is accomplished.' Bossuet's masterpiece has crowned the memory
of Madame with an immortal halo in which the charms, the quick and
exquisite imagination of the young princess, who enchanted her
contemporaries,--the lady who set the tone for taste and wit in the
midst of the wittiest and most brilliant Court the world has ever
known--will shine resplendent through the ages.
The circumstances in which this startling death occurred have aroused
the attention of historians. Madame had returned from England, where she
had succeeded in getting the Treaty of Dover signed on June 1, 1670, by
the ministers of her brother Charles II--the treaty assuring Louis XIV
of the alliance of England against Holland, and permitting him to
conquer Flanders and Franche-Comté for France. Madame remained at Dover
from May 24 to June 12; she then re-embarked for France, happy in the
successful result of her mission; and she arrived at Saint-Germain on
the 18th. 'At the age of twenty-six,' says Madame de la Fayette, 'she
saw herself the link between the two greatest kings of the century; she
had in her hands a treaty on which depended the fate of a part of
Europe; the pleasure and the importance given by affairs of moment being
joined in her with the attractions bestowed by youth and beauty; there
was a grace and a sweetness enveloping her whole person that won for her
a kind of homage, which must have been the more pleasant in that it was
rendered rather to her personality than to her rank.'
Need anything be said of the manners of Monsieur? 'The miracle of firing
the heart of this prince,' says Madame de la Fayette, 'was reserved for
no woman in the world.' And yet his heart was wonderfully tender! Madame
had definitively secured the exile of the Chevalier de Lorraine, the
infamous friend of her husband.
Madame died suddenly at St. Cloud, a prey to the most cruel anguish, on
the night of the 29th of June 1670, about three o'clock in the morning.
Rumours of poison were instantly set afloat, which were not long in
gaining strength and currency. They formed the general opinion at Court,
in Paris, in the whole of France, in England, Holland, and Spain, where
Madame's daughter became queen. Charles II refused to receive the letter
in which the Duke of Orleans informed him of his sister's death. 'The
Duke of Buckingham, the English ambassador,' wrote Colbert de Croissy,
'is in transports of rage.' The people of London were hardly restrained
from violent outbursts against the Frenchmen residing there. The streets
rang with the cry of 'Down with the French!' The French embassy had to
be protected. Monsieur's second wife, Madame Palatine, was always
convinced that Madame had died of poison, and everything tends to show
that Louis XIV, at all events in the first moments, shared these
suspicions.