The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide, and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV

by Anne Somerset

  It was at this point that Marie also began to make startling new claims about Mlle des Oeillets. Unfortunately, the written record of her interrogation only summarises what she said and her exact words remain unclear. Nevertheless, the record indicates that whereas before she had merely testified that Mlle des Oeillets had frequently visited her mother and that she had delivered powders to Mme de Montespan, Marie now suggested she had done far more terrible things. She recalled that on her visits to la Voisin, Mlle des Oeillets had often been accompanied by a mysterious ‘English milord’ and this shadowy individual had apparently been co-ordinating a terrible conspiracy against the King. Guibourg had at one point conducted obscene ceremonies for the pair, and Marie believed that the stranger intended to transport Guibourg and la Voisin to England once his objective had been accomplished. After the arrest of her mother she herself had received a letter offering to smuggle her out of the country, but being reluctant to leave France she had declined.

  * * *

  The following day Guibourg was invited to comment on all this4 and he at once acknowledged that much of it was true. He stated that over the years he had performed four black masses on the same naked woman and that on each occasion a child had been sacrificed. The first of these masses had been arranged by a M. Leroy and had taken place in Menil. As he had performed the evil rite, he had uttered a supplication to ‘Astaroth and Amodeus’ on behalf of the lady who lay exposed before him. Speaking for her, he had begged these demonic beings ‘to accept the sacrifice which I offer in return for the things which I ask of you, which are: the affection of the King and Monseigneur the Dauphin; to be honoured by the princes and princesses of the court, and that nothing which I ask of the King is denied me, or my relatives and servants’.5 Having previously purchased a child for an écu, he had then slaughtered it and drained its blood. Its heart and entrails had been used to make powders for Mme de Montespan to give to the King.

  The second of the four masses had been celebrated in a hovel in Saint-Denis, where the ‘same ceremonies’ had been enacted. After that, however, la Voisin had provided him with more convenient facilities for, though only the week before Guibourg had been adamant that he had never performed a black mass at her house, he now remembered that this was where the third and fourth human sacrifices had, in fact, taken place.

  Having initially stated that the third mass had occurred eight or nine years earlier, Guibourg suddenly changed his mind, placing it instead at some time in 1666–7. The last of the four masses had been celebrated only five years ago, once again at la Voisin’s. Guibourg related that afterwards he had been just about to leave when he had caught sight of a piece of paper that had been left on a chair. Written on it were a series of requests couched in the form of a satanic pact, which had so impressed itself on Guibourg’s mind that he was able to recite it verbatim. The pact ran:

  I ask that the affection of the King and Monseigneur the Dauphin be continued towards me; that the Queen be sterile, that the King leave her bed and table for me; that I obtain from him all that I will ask of him for myself and my family; that my manservants and maids are agreeable to [the King]; [that I be] well treated and respected by the high nobility; that I can be called to the King’s councils and know what happens there; and that this affection redoubling … the King abandon and not consider la Vallière and that, the Queen being repudiated, I can marry the King.

  Naturally Guibourg was asked to identify the woman on whose body these hideous acts had been perpetrated, but though he had encountered her four times in such unforgettable circumstances his answer was strangely hesitant. He explained that on each occasion the lady had kept her face hidden behind a veil, so he had no idea what she looked like. However, he had been led to believe that she was Mme de Montespan.

  Guibourg also confirmed that it was at la Voisin’s that he had ministered to the depraved requirements of Mlle des Oeillets and the titled Englishman, and he recalled an instance when he had performed a particularly distasteful spell for them. After Mlle des Oeillets had provided Guibourg with a sample of her menstrual blood, the Englishman masturbated into a chalice, then bats’ blood and flour were added to the semen collected there. Once Guibourg had uttered an incantation on this mixture, Mlle des Oeillets and her male companion took it away.

  At some point La Reynie was given more details about this incident, although it is not clear whether Guibourg or Marie Montvoisin provided the information. At any rate, La Reynie somehow learned that the object of the exercise had been to kill the King. Mlle des Oeillets had manifested great bitterness towards him, at one point growing so angry during her consultation with Guibourg that the Englishman had had some difficulty calming her. It was the prospect of revenge that had finally quietened her, for Guibourg’s revolting confection (La Reynie later received the impression that the blood of a murdered child had been mixed in with the other ingredients) was thought to have fatal properties. Mlle des Oeillets intended to smear it on the King’s clothes, or even to strew it in his path, and she and the English milord were confident that Louis would die shortly afterwards.6

  Guibourg’s story contained some obvious discrepancies. He claimed that around 1666–7 he had been instructed to utter a conjuration imploring that his client should gain the affection of the Dauphin, but at that time the heir to the throne was a child of five or six, whose personal inclinations were not of much significance. Conversely, Guibourg suggested that the last time he had performed a mass for the lady he had caught sight of a written pact requesting that the King should cast off Louise de La Vallière. However, this was supposedly in 1675, by which time Louise was already in her convent. It was odd, too, that the pact betrayed such an urgent desire that the King should find the lady’s servants congenial. The King had, in fact, already impregnated Mlle des Oeillets, so one would have thought Mme de Montespan had little cause to worry that her female staff were displeasing to him. Quite apart from this, it seems odd that this was an issue of such importance to her that she was ready to sell her soul for it.

  M. de La Reynie took a different view. The fact that Guibourg had been able to recite the text of the pact with such fluency convinced the Police Chief that the priest had really seen the document. To La Reynie the pact had seemed full of detailed information and he questioned whether an outsider from the court like Guibourg could have picked up such ‘things of consequence’ about Mme de Montespan. It is difficult to understand why La Reynie thought this, for the pact hardly indicated a highly specialised and accurate knowledge of court gossip. Indeed, the fact that it made no mention of matters that would logically have featured among Mme de Montespan’s most pressing concerns, such as her troublesome husband or the future of her children by the King, was decidedly curious. La Reynie, however, thought it ‘morally impossible’ that Guibourg could have made all this up7 for, as a man who himself was endowed with only a limited imagination, he was apt to underestimate the powers of invention possessed by others.

  * * *

  Other concerns were now troubling La Reynie. Whereas in his memorandum of 6 October he had suggested to the King that, before she died, la Filastre had withdrawn all the allegations she had made against Mme de Montespan, he now realised this was not strictly accurate. For a start he questioned whether la Filastre’s final retraction should be regarded as legitimate. He believed that confessors tended to encourage condemned prisoners to issue such disclaimers, and for this and other reasons ‘there are many judges who take no regard whatever of this kind of contrary declaration’.8 However, even if her retraction was allowable, it had to be borne in mind that it had not been absolute. La Filastre had never repudiated her claim that Guibourg had told her he had carried out a black mass on behalf of Mme de Montespan and her allegation that Galet had bragged of supplying powders to Mme de Montespan likewise remained extant. It could, of course, be argued that neither of these points was very significant. If Galet and Guibourg had made these remarks, there was a good chance they had simply been try
ing to impress la Filastre with idle boasts. Furthermore, in theory hearsay evidence was not legally admissible, though La Reynie does not seem to have recognised the force of this objection. As far as he was concerned, when Guibourg’s and Galet’s statements during their confrontations with la Filastre were taken into account, this amounted in judicial terms to ‘absolute proof’ that la Filastre’s testimony on these points had been correct.9

  It had taken a little time for the full implications of the course of action he had earlier recommended to the King to become apparent to La Reynie. He had suggested that the written record of la Filastre’s examination under torture could be amended, so that the judges were not shown the passages relating to the supposed conspiracy to poison Mlle de Fontanges. Now, however, La Reynie had grasped that if this was done, his ability to bring the cases of other prisoners awaiting trial to a successful conclusion would be gravely compromised.

  Unless la Filastre’s final confessions were shown in their entirety to the commissioners, none of the evidence that had emerged during the investigation into her crimes could be used to prosecute other defendants. Juridical practice laid down that if this evidence was to feature in other trials, it must be relayed in full to the judges, rather than being presented to them selectively. This meant nothing that la Filastre had said could be used to secure the convictions of individuals such as Guibourg, Galet or Mme Chapelain. Furthermore, this did not represent the full extent of the problem. It was unlawful to bring a defendant to trial if any part of the evidence relating to the case had been withheld from the court. Since this would apply to every prisoner whom la Filastre had mentioned at any point in her testimony, the consequences would be considerable.

  Nor was this all. It had gradually dawned on La Reynie that if the King considered it desirable to suppress la Filastre’s final testimony he might also be reluctant to proceed with the trial of any other prisoner who was likely to produce embarrassing statements against Mme de Montespan. If so, even if the other legal difficulties were overcome, there were many wicked individuals who would not be brought to judgement.

  Profoundly disturbed by such a possibility, on 11 October La Reynie prepared another memorandum for Louvois outlining his difficulties.10 Lamenting the ‘impenetrable darkness’ that surrounded him, he admitted there was no obvious solution to his predicament, for there were indisputable drawbacks to permitting such sensitive material to enter the public domain. On the other hand he passionately believed it would be wrong to prevent ‘so many evils’ from coming to light.

  Since the dilemma was so intractable, La Reynie considered it best to delay making a decision. He advocated that for the moment, no measures should be taken that might prejudice the outcome of the inquiry. This would give him some breathing space during which he would seek to establish whether the suspicions against Mme de Montespan could be substantiated.

  La Reynie’s advice was followed. He was authorised to pursue his investigation and in the meantime the Chambre Ardente was suspended. This was envisaged as a purely temporary measure, for it was agreed that its sessions would resume as soon as La Reynie had brought some clarity to the situation. However, this proved much harder than anticipated. In the event the commission did not sit again until 11 May 1681, a gap of more than seven months in its proceedings.

  * * *

  Doggedly La Reynie applied himself to the task that had been set him. On 23 October a confrontation was arranged between Marie Montvoisin and Guibourg.11 Though they differed on some minor details, in essentials their testimony accorded. Both described how a baby had been eviscerated during a black mass at la Voisin’s and Guibourg spoke too of the bizarre proceedings he had undertaken for Mlle des Oeillets. But although their accounts were graphic in their details, they did not provide La Reynie with fresh insights. To achieve a breakthrough, he concluded, it would be necessary to approach the subject from a different angle.

  La Reynie believed he could do this by reopening an inquiry that had been closed years before. It will be recalled that in 1668 Lesage and a priest called Mariette had been tried for having committed impieties. At his trial Mariette had named Mme de Montespan as one of their clients and this had been noted in the court record without further comment. Lesage had been sent to the galleys, but Mariette had been treated more leniently. He had merely been sent to Saint-Lazare, a disciplinary establishment for delinquent priests. After a short time he had absconded and, with the aid of la Voisin, had escaped to the provinces. However, following la Voisin’s arrest in 1679, determined efforts had been made to locate him and in February 1680 he had been arrested in Toulouse. La Reynie now determined to find out more about what Mariette and Lesage had done for Mme de Montespan all those years before, hoping this would provide some enlightenment as to whether Athénaïs was capable of the sort of acts described by Marie Montvoisin and Guibourg.

  Between 5 and 8 November La Reynie separately questioned Mariette and Lesage.12 It proved a fruitful exercise: Lesage appeared eager to revisit those distant events and Mariette at least partially corroborated his account. Both men agreed that by 1667 Mme de Montespan had become a client of la Voisin’s. At first Mme Voisin had arranged for Mariette to say conjurations for Athénaïs on his own, but then Lesage had been enlisted to act as his assistant. Soon afterwards, the pair had deserted la Voisin to set up business independently, taking with them Mme de Montespan’s custom. In early 1668 they had performed ceremonies for her in the apartment of her sister, Mme de Thianges, at Saint-Germain. These had consisted of Mariette intoning the gospels over her while Lesage burnt incense and Mme de Montespan read out a specially formulated incantation. In this Mme de Montespan had expressed her desire to secure the King’s good graces and Lesage testified that she had also sought the death of Louise de La Vallière. Mariette demurred at this, saying that Mme de Montespan had merely wished her rival to be sent away from court.

  The two men concurred that Mme de Montespan had subsequently been present when Mariette had performed a mass on her behalf in a chapel at Saint-Séverin. As instructed, she had previously supplied the priest with two pigeons’ hearts, which he passed under the chalice during the service. Lesage claimed that a consecrated wafer had also featured in the ritual, but Mariette would not admit to having committed this much more serious act of sacrilege. They both agreed that two or three similar ceremonies had later been enacted in the same place. Lesage said that at one of these Mariette had performed a spell using dead men’s bones, the object being to bring about the death of Louise de La Vallière. Mariette denied this, reiterating that Mme de Montespan had never tried to harm Louise.

  In La Reynie’s eyes, this constituted a powerful proof against Mme de Montespan. He considered that these latest disclosures tended to validate the other allegations against her which, for the sake of discretion, were now always referred to as ‘the particular facts’. Noting that it seemed extremely likely that Mme de Montespan had had several encounters with Mariette and Lesage, he argued that this in itself could be regarded as ‘one of the strongest conjectures and greatest presumptions of the truth … of the other particular facts’.13

  It is reasonable to query this conclusion. For a start, caution is in order as to whether Mariette and Lesage were being truthful. The apparent conformity in their accounts is somewhat deceptive, for Mariette’s statement was far from independent. Instead, he was told what Lesage had said and then, ‘forced to declare it by the thing itself’, he gave his own version.14 On the other hand the fact that he contradicted Lesage on a number of key points does indicate that he was not merely endorsing things he knew to be untrue.

  La Reynie considered it significant that Mariette seemed to know a great deal about the steps taken by Mme de Montespan to secure her father the Governorship of Paris. Mariette described how anxious she had become when it appeared that the King was going to award the place to another candidate and her delight when the appointment was finally made. La Reynie noted that she had evidently kept nothing back from
Mariette about this, confiding to him all her hopes and fears.15 Yet La Reynie should have spotted that there was something wrong here, for the Duc de Mortemart was not appointed Governor of Paris till January 1669, nine months after Mariette’s arrest. It was therefore impossible for Mariette to have witnessed Athénaïs’s joy at her father’s triumph.

  Despite this discrepancy one cannot rule out the possibility that in 1667–8 Mme de Montespan was availing herself of the services offered by la Voisin, Lesage and Mariette. Even if one discounts Lesage’s more serious allegations and instead relies solely on Mariette’s testimony, this would mean that Athénaïs had participated in ceremonies verging on the sacrilegious and which probably contravened the law. Her actions would not have been so very different from those allegedly committed by the Vicomtesse de Polignac, and when those had come to light orders had at once been given for Mme de Polignac’s arrest. Nevertheless, to deduce from this that Athénaïs subsequently progressed to much worse crimes was surely tendentious.

  La Reynie seemed to think that, having acquired a taste for dubious practices, Mme de Montespan would not have been able to renounce them, and that once Mariette and Lesage were no longer active in Paris she had reverted to being a client of Guibourg and la Voisin. There was, however, a good reason why this was unlikely. By the summer of 1668 Mme de Montespan’s freedom of movement had become greatly circumscribed, for fears that her husband might abduct her had led the King to provide her with an armed guard who usually accompanied her when she rode in her coach. Although it does seem there were occasions when she travelled more discreetly,16 she was not truly independent during these years. The idea that she could have visited la Voisin regularly without anyone having the least notion of her whereabouts verges on the absurd.