is in England. Garinet, in his history of Magic and Sorcery in that
country, cites upwards of twenty instances which occurred between the
years 1805 and 1818. In the latter year, no less than three tribunals
were occupied with trials originating in this humiliating belief: we
shall cite only one of them. Julian Desbourdes, aged fifty-three, a
mason, and inhabitant of the village of Thilouze, near Bordeaux, was
taken suddenly ill, in the month of January 1818. As he did not know
how to account for his malady, he suspected at last that he was
bewitched. He communicated this suspicion to his son-in-law, Bridier,
and they both went to consult a sort of idiot, named Baudouin, who
passed for a conjuror, or white-witch. This man told them that
Desbourdes was certainly bewitched, and offered to accompany them to
the house of an old man, named Renard, who, he said, was undoubtedly
the criminal. On the night of the 23rd of January all three proceeded
stealthily to the dwelling of Renard, and accused him of afflicting
persons with diseases, by the aid of the devil. Desbourdes fell on his
knees, and earnestly entreated to be restored to his former health,
promising that he would take no measures against him for the evil he
had done. The old man denied in the strongest terms that he was a
wizard; and when Desbourdes still pressed him to remove the spell from
him, he said he knew nothing about the spell, and refused to remove it.
The idiot Baudouin, the white-witch, now interfered, and told his
companions that no relief for the malady could ever be procured until
the old man confessed his guilt. To force him to confession they
lighted some sticks of sulphur, which they had brought with them for
the purpose, and placed them under the old man's nose. In a few
moments, he fell down suffocated and apparently lifeless. They were all
greatly alarmed; and thinking that they had killed the man, they
carried him out and threw him into a neighbouring pond, hoping to make
it appear that he had fallen in accidentally. The pond, however, was
not very deep, and the coolness of the water reviving the old man, he
opened his eyes and sat up. Desbourdes and Bridier, who were still
waiting on the bank, were now more alarmed than before, lest he should
recover and inform against them. They, therefore, waded into the
pond--seized their victim by the hair of the head--beat him severely,
and then held him under water till he was drowned.
They were all three apprehended on the charge of murder a few days
afterwards. Desbourdes and Bridier were found guilty of aggravated
manslaughter only, and sentenced to be burnt on the back, and to work
in the galleys for life. The white-witch Baudouin was acquitted, on the
ground of insanity.
M. Garinet further informs us that France, at the time he wrote (1818),
was overrun by a race of fellows, who made a trade of casting out
devils and finding out witches. He adds, also, that many of the priests
in the rural districts encouraged the superstition of their
parishioners, by resorting frequently to exorcisms, whenever any
foolish persons took it into their heads that a spell had been thrown
over them. He recommended, as a remedy for the evil, that all these
exorcists, whether lay or clerical, should be sent to the galleys, and
that the number of witches would then very sensibly diminish.
Many other instances of this lingering belief might be cited both in
France and Great Britain, and indeed in every other country in Europe.
So deeply rooted are some errors that ages cannot remove them. The
poisonous tree that once overshadowed the land, may be cut down by the
sturdy efforts of sages and philosophers--the sun may shine clearly
upon spots where venemous things once nestled in security and shade;
but still the entangled roots are stretched beneath the surface, and
may be found by those who dig. Another king, like James I, might make
them vegetate again; and, more mischievous still, another pope, like
Innocent VIII, might raise the decaying roots to strength and verdure.
Still, it is consoling to think, that the delirium has passed away;
that the raging madness has given place to a milder folly; and that we
may now count by units the votaries of a superstition which, in former
ages, numbered its victims by tens of thousands, and its votaries by
millions.
THE SLOW POISONERS.
Pescara.--The like was never read of.
Stephano.--In my judgment,
To all that shall but hear it, 't will appear
A most impossible fable.
Pescara.--Troth, I'll tell you,
And briefly as I can, by what degrees
They fell into this madness.
Duke of Milan.
The atrocious system of poisoning, by poisons so slow in their
operation, as to make the victim appear, to ordinary observers, as if
dying from a gradual decay of nature, has been practised in all ages.
Those who are curious in the matter may refer to Beckmann on Secret
Poisons, in his "History of Inventions," in which he has collected
several instances of it from the Greek and Roman writers. Early in the
sixteenth century the crime seems to have gradually increased, till, in
the seventeenth, it spread over Europe like a pestilence. It was often
exercised by pretended witches and sorcerers, and finally became a
branch of education amongst all who laid any claim to magical and
supernatural arts. In the twenty-first year of Henry VIII. an act was
passed, rendering it high-treason: those found guilty of it, were to be
boiled to death.
One of the first in point of date, and hardly second to any in point of
atrocity, is the murder by this means of Sir Thomas Overbury, which
disgraced the court of James I, in the year 1613. A slight sketch of it
will be a fitting introduction to the history of the poisoning mania,
which was so prevalent in France and Italy fifty years later.
Robert Kerr, a Scottish youth, was early taken notice of by James I,
and loaded with honours, for no other reason that the world could ever
discover than the beauty of his person. James, even in his own day, was
suspected of being addicted to the most abominable of all offences, and
the more we examine his history now, the stronger the suspicion
becomes. However that may be, the handsome Kerr, lending his smooth
cheek, even in public, to the disgusting kisses of his royal master,
rose rapidly in favour. In the year 1613, he was made Lord High
Treasurer of Scotland, and created an English peer, by the style and
title of Viscount Rochester. Still further honours were in store for
him.
In this rapid promotion he had not been without a friend. Sir Thomas
Overbury, the King's secretary-who appears, from some threats in his
own letters, to have been no better than a pander to the vices of the
King, and privy to his dangerous secrets--exerted all his backstair
influence to forward the promotion of Kerr, by whom he was, doubtless,
repaid in some way or other. Overbury did not confine his friendship to
this, if friendship ever could exist between two such men, but acted
the part of an entremetteur, and assisted Rochester to carry on an
adulterous intrigue with the Lady Frances Howard, the wife of the Earl
of Essex. This woman was a person of violent passions, and lost to all
sense of shame. Her husband was in her way, and to be freed from him,
she instituted proceedings for a divorce, on grounds which a woman of
any modesty or delicacy of feeling would die rather than avow. Her
scandalous suit was successful, and was no sooner decided than
preparations, on a scale of the greatest magnificence, were made for
her marriage with Lord Rochester.
Sir Thomas Overbury, who had willingly assisted his patron to intrigue
with the Countess of Essex, seems to have imagined that his marriage
with so vile a woman might retard his advancement; he accordingly
employed all his influence to dissuade him from it. But Rochester was
bent on the match, and his passions were as violent as those of the
Countess. On one occasion, when Overbury and the Viscount were walking
in the gallery of Whitehall, Overbury was overheard to say, "Well, my
Lord, if you do marry that base woman, you will utterly ruin your
honour and yourself. You shall never do it with my advice or consent;
and, if you do, you had best look to stand fast." Rochester flung from
him in a rage, exclaiming with an oath, "I will be even with you for
this." These words were the death-warrant of the unfortunate Overbury.
He had mortally wounded the pride of Rochester in insinuating that by
his (Overbury's) means he might be lowered in the King's favour; and he
had endeavoured to curb the burning passions of a heartless, dissolute,
and reckless man.
Overbury's imprudent remonstrances were reported to the Countess; and
from that moment, she also vowed the most deadly vengeance against him.
With a fiendish hypocrisy, however, they both concealed their
intentions, and Overbury, at the solicitation of Rochester, was
appointed ambassador to the court of Russia. This apparent favour was
but the first step in a deep and deadly plot. Rochester, pretending to
be warmly attached to the interests of Overbury, advised him to refuse
the embassy, which, he said, was but a trick to get him out of the way.
He promised, at the same time, to stand between him and any evil
consequences which might result from his refusal. Overbury fell into
the snare, and declined the embassy. James, offended, immediately
ordered his committal to the Tower.
He was now in safe custody, and his enemies had opportunity to commence
the work of vengeance. The first thing Rochester did was to procure, by
his influence at court, the dismissal of the Lieutenant of the Tower,
and the appointment of Sir Jervis Elwes, one of his creatures, to the
vacant post. This man was but one instrument, and another being
necessary, was found in Richard Weston, a fellow who had formerly been
shopman to a druggist. He was installed in the office of under-keeper,
and as such had the direct custody of Overbury. So far, all was
favourable to the designs of the conspirators.
In the mean time, the insidious Rochester wrote the most friendly
letters to Overbury, requesting him to bear his ill-fortune patiently,
and promising that his imprisonment should not be of long duration; for
that his friends were exerting themselves to soften the King's
displeasure. Still pretending the extreme of sympathy for him, he
followed up the letters by presents of pastry and other delicacies,
which could not be procured in the Tower. These articles were all
poisoned. Occasionally, presents of a similar description were sent to
Sir Jervis Elwes, with the understanding that these articles were not
poisoned, when they were unaccompanied by letters: of these the
unfortunate prisoner never tasted. A woman, named Turner, who had
formerly kept a house of ill fame, and who had more than once lent it
to further the guilty intercourse of Rochester and Lady Essex, was the
agent employed to procure the poisons. They were prepared by Dr.
Forman, a pretended fortune-teller of Lambeth, assisted by an
apothecary named Franklin. Both these persons knew for what purposes
the poisons were needed, and employed their skill in mixing them in the
pastry and other edibles, in such small quantities as gradually to wear
out the constitution of their victim. Mrs. Turner regularly furnished
the poisoned articles to the under-keeper, who placed them before
Overbury. Not only his food, but his drink was poisoned. Arsenic was
mixed with the salt he ate, and cantharides with the pepper. All this
time, his health declined sensibly. Every day he grew weaker and
weaker; and with a sickly appetite, craved for sweets and jellies.
Rochester continued to condole with him, and anticipated all his wants
in this respect, sending him abundance of pastry, and occasionally
partridges and other game, and young pigs. With the sauce for the game,
Mrs. Turner mixed a quantity of cantharides, and poisoned the pork with
lunar-caustic. As stated on the trial, Overbury took in this manner
poison enough to have poisoned twenty men; but his constitution was
strong, and he still lingered. Franklin, the apothecary, confessed that
he prepared with Dr. Forman seven different sorts of poisons; viz.
aquafortis, arsenic, mercury, powder of diamonds, lunar-caustic, great
spiders, and cantharides. Overbury held out so long that Rochester
became impatient, and in a letter to Lady Essex, expressed his wonder
that things were not sooner despatched. Orders were immediately sent
by Lady Essex to the keeper to finish with the victim at once. Overbury
had not been all this time without suspicion of treachery, although he
appears to have had no idea of poison. He merely suspected that it was
intended to confine him for life, and to set the King still more
bitterly against him. In one of his letters, he threatened Rochester
that, unless he were speedily liberated, he would expose his villany to
the world. He says, "You and I, ere it be long, will come to a public
trial of another nature." * * * "Drive me not to extremities, lest I
should say something that both you and I should repent." * * * "Whether
I live or die, your shame shall never die, but ever remain to the
world, to make you the most odious man living." * * * "I wonder much
you should neglect him to whom such secrets of all kinds have passed."
* * * "Be these the fruits of common secrets, common dangers?"
All these remonstrances, and hints as to the dangerous secrets in his
keeping, were ill-calculated to serve him with a man so reckless as
Lord Rochester: they were more likely to cause him to be sacrificed
than to be saved. Rochester appears to have acted as if he thought so.
He doubtless employed the murderer's reasoning that "dead men tell no
tales," when, after receiving letters of this description, he
complained to his paramour of the delay. Weston was spurred on to
consummate the atrocity; and the patience of all parties being
exhausted, a dose of corrosive sublimate was administered to him, in
October 1613, which put an end to his sufferings, after he had been for
six months in their hands. On the very day of his death, and before his
body was cold, he was wrapped up carelessly in a sheet, and buried
without any funeral ceremony in a pit within the precincts of the Tower.
Sir Anthony Weldon, in his "Court and Character of James I," gives a
somewhat different account of the closing scene of this tragedy. He
says, "Franklin and Weston came into Overbury's chamber, and found him
in infinite torment, with contention between the strength of nature and
the working of the poison; and it being very like that nature had
gotten the better in this contention, by the thrusting out of boils,
blotches, and blains, they, fearing it might come to light by the
judgment of physicians, the foul play that had been offered him,
consented to stifle him with the bedclothes, which accordingly was
performed; and so ended his miserable life, with the assurance of the
conspirators that he died by the poison; none thinking otherwise than
these two murderers."
The sudden death--the indecent haste of the funeral, and the
non-holding of an inquest upon the body, strengthened the suspicions
that were afloat. Rumour, instead of whispering, began to speak out;
and the relatives of the deceased openly expressed their belief that
their kinsman had been murdered. But Rochester was still all powerful
at court, and no one dared to utter a word to his discredit. Shortly
afterwards, his marriage with the Countess of Essex was celebrated with
the utmost splendour, the King himself being present at the ceremony.
It would seem that Overbury's knowledge of James's character was deeper
than Rochester had given him credit for, and that he had been a true
prophet when he predicted that his marriage would eventually estrange
James from his minion. At this time, however, Rochester stood higher
than ever in the royal favour; but it did not last long--conscience,
that busy monitor, was at work. The tongue of rumour was never still;
and Rochester, who had long been a guilty, became at last a wretched
man. His cheeks lost their colour--his eyes grew dim; and he became
moody, careless, and melancholy. The King seeing him thus, took at
length no pleasure in his society, and began to look about for another
favourite. George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was the man to his
mind; quick-witted, handsome, and unscrupulous. The two latter
qualities alone were sufficient to recommend him to James I. In
proportion as the influence of Rochester declined, that of Buckingham
increased. A falling favourite has no friends; and Rumour wagged her
tongue against Rochester louder and more pertinaciously than ever. A
new favourite, too, generally endeavours to hasten by a kick the fall
of the old one; and Buckingham, anxious to work the complete ruin of
his forerunner in the King's good graces, encouraged the relatives of
Sir Thomas Overbury to prosecute their inquiries into the strange death
of their kinsman.
James was rigorous enough in the punishment of offences when he was not
himself involved. He piqued himself, moreover, on his dexterity in
unravelling mysteries. The affair of Sir Thomas Overbury found him
congenial occupation. He set to work by ordering the arrest of Sir
Jervis Elwes. James, at this early stage of the proceedings, does not
seem to have been aware that Rochester was so deeply implicated. Struck
with horror at the atrocious system of slow poisoning, the King sent
for all the Judges. According to Sir Anthony Weldon, he knelt down in
the midst of them, and said, "My Lords the Judges, it is lately come to
my hearing that you have now in examination a business of poisoning.
Lord! in what a miserable condition shall this kingdom be (the only
famous nation for hospitality in the world) if our tables should become
such a snare, as that none could eat without danger of life, and that
Italian custom should be introduced among us! Therefore, my Lords, I
charge you, as you will answer it at that great and dreadful day of
judgment, that you examine it strictly, without layout, affection, or
partiality. And if you shall spare any guilty of this crime, God's
curse light on you and your posterity! and if I spare any that are
guilty, God's curse light on me and my posterity for ever!"
The imprecation fell but too surely upon the devoted house of Stuart.
The solemn oath was broken, and God's curse did light upon him and his
posterity!
The next person arrested after Sir Jervis Elwes, was Weston, the
under-keeper; then Franklin and Mrs. Turner; and, lastly, the Earl and
Countess of Somerset, to which dignity Rochester had been advanced
since the death of Overbury.
Weston was first brought to trial. Public curiosity was on the stretch.
Nothing else was talked of, and the court on the day of trial was
crowded to suffocation. The "State Trials" report, that Lord Chief
Justice Coke "laid open to the jury the baseness and cowardliness of
poisoners, who attempt that secretly against which there is no means of
preservation or defence for a man's life; and how rare it was to hear
of any poisoning in England, so detestable it was to our nation. But
the devil had taught divers to be cunning in it, so that they can
poison in what distance of space they please, by consuming the nativum
calidum, or humidum radicale, in one month, two or three, or more, as
they list, which they four manner of ways do execute; viz. haustu,
gustu, odore, and contactu."
When the indictment was read over, Weston made no other reply than,
"Lord have mercy upon me! Lord have mercy upon me!" On being asked how
he would be tried, he refused to throw himself upon a jury of his
country, and declared, that he would be tried by God alone. In this he
persisted for some time. The fear of the dreadful punishment for
contumacy induced him, at length, to plead "Not guilty," and take his
trial in due course of law.
[The punishment for the contumacious was expressed by the words onere,
frigore, et fame. By the first was meant that the culprit should be
extended on his back on the ground, and weights placed over his body,
gradually increased, until he expired. Sometimes the punishment was not
extended to this length, and the victim, being allowed to recover,
underwent the second portion, the frigore, which consisted in his
standing naked in the open air, for a certain space, in the sight of
all the people. The third, or fame, was more dreadful, the statute
saying, "That he was to be preserved with the coarsest bread that could
be got, and water out of the next sink or puddle, to the place of
execution; and that day he had water he should have no bread, and that
day he had bread, he should have no water;" and in this torment he was
to linger as long as nature would hold out.]
All the circumstances against him were fully proved, and he was found
guilty and executed at Tyburn. Mrs. Turner, Franklin, and Sir Jervis
Elwes were also brought to trial, found guilty, and executed between
the 19th of October and the 4th of December 1615; but the grand trial
of the Earl and Countess of Somerset did not take place till the month
of May following.
On the trial of Sir Jervis Elwes, circumstances had transpired, showing
a guilty knowledge of the poisoning on the part of the Earl of
Northampton the uncle of Lady Somerset, and the chief falconer Sir
Thomas Monson. The former was dead; but Sir Thomas Monson was arrested,
and brought to trial. It appeared, however, that he was too dangerous a
man to be brought to the scaffold. He knew too many of the odious
secrets of James I, and his dying speech might contain disclosures
which would compromise the King. To conceal old guilt it was necessary
to incur new: the trial of Sir Thomas Monson was brought to an abrupt
conclusion, and himself set at liberty!
Already James had broken his oath. He now began to fear that he had
been rash in engaging so zealously to bring the poisoners to
punishment. That Somerset would be declared guilty there was no doubt,
and that he looked for pardon and impunity was equally evident to the
King. Somerset, while in the Tower, asserted confidently, that James
would not dare to bring him to trial. In this he was mistaken; but
James was in an agony. What the secret was between them will now never
be known with certainty; but it may be surmised. Some have imagined it
to be the vice to which the King was addicted; while others have
asserted, that it related to the death of Prince Henry, a virtuous
young man, who had held Somerset in especial abhorrence. The Prince
died early, unlamented by his father, and, as public opinion whispered
at the time, poisoned by Somerset. Probably, some crime or other lay
heavy upon the soul of the King; and Somerset, his accomplice, could
not be brought to public execution with safety. Hence the dreadful
tortures of James, when he discovered that his favourite was so deeply
implicated in the murder of Overbury. Every means was taken by the
agonized King to bring the prisoner into what was called a safe frame
of mind. He was secretly advised to plead guilty, and trust to the
clemency of the King. The same advice was conveyed to the Countess.
Bacon was instructed by the King to draw up a paper of all the points
of "mercy and favour" to Somerset which might result from the evidence;
and Somerset was again recommended to plead guilty, and promised that
no evil should ensue to him.
The Countess was first tried. She trembled and shed tears during the
reading of the indictment, and, in a low voice, pleaded guilty. On
being asked why sentence of death should not be passed against her, she
replied meekly, "I can much aggravate, but nothing extenuate my fault.
I desire mercy, and that the lords will intercede for me with the
King." Sentence of death was passed upon her.
Next day the Earl was brought to trial. He appears to have mistrusted
the promises of James, and he pleaded not guilty. With a
self-possession and confidence, which he felt, probably, from his
knowledge of the King's character, he rigorously cross-examined the
witnesses, and made a stubborn defence. After a trial which lasted
eleven hours, he was found guilty, and condemned to the felon's death.
Whatever may have been the secrets between the criminal and the King,
the latter, notwithstanding his terrific oath, was afraid to sign the
death-warrant. It might, perchance, have been his own. The Earl and
Countess were committed to the Tower, where they remained for nearly
five years. At the end of this period, to the surprise and scandal of
the community, and the disgrace of its chief magistrate, they both
received the royal pardon, but were ordered to reside at a distance
from the court. Having been found guilty of felony, the estates of the
Earl had become forfeited; but James granted him out of their revenues
an income of 4,000 pounds per annum! Shamelessness could go no further.
Of the after life of these criminals nothing is known, except that the
love they had formerly borne each other was changed into aversion, and
that they lived under the same roof for months together without the
interchange of a word.