The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide, and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV
Page 45
On 24 July 1681 Mme Vertemart’s case had been heard by the commission. Her official punishment for having asked la Voisin to say prayers for the death of her husband had been banishment from the realm. However, the King feared that while abroad she might spread gossip about Mme de Montespan. It was therefore agreed that she should spend the rest of her life in a convent for fallen women.46
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At one time it was thought that Mlle des Oeillets had been confined for life in a similar institution. In his great work the Archives de la Bastille (where the vast majority of documents relating to the Affair of the Poisons are printed) François Ravaisson published a letter sent from Louvois to La Reynie in September 1686, informing the Police Chief that ‘la des Oeillets, who was shut up by order of the King in the Tours workhouse, died there on the eighth of this month’. However, when Jean Lemoine researched the life of Mlle des Oeillets he found it was not true that she had died in captivity. It has since been proved that Ravaisson had wrongly transcribed the name and that Louvois had in fact been referring to Aymée Drodelot, sister of Anne Poligny, who had been incarcerated in the Tours workhouse in December 1682.47
Things had certainly looked bad for Mlle des Oeillets following her confrontation with the prisoners at Vincennes, but she had managed to retrieve the situation. In February 1682 she had written to Louvois once again protesting her innocence and suggesting that perhaps one of the Comtesse de Soissons’s maids had impersonated her when visiting la Voisin. Louvois had been impressed by her arguments48 and she had not been troubled again in connection with this matter.*
In 1681 Mlle des Oeillets had rented a Paris house in the Rue Montmartre and three years later she purchased a country property, the Chateau de Suisnes. Thenceforth she divided her time between the two houses, living in some degree of comfort, for her will makes it plain that she employed three servants and owned two coaches. She died on 18 May 1687, leaving money to pay for prayers to be said daily for the King’s health and prosperity.49
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The decision had been reached that all those alleged by Marie Montvoisin or la Filastre to have been in league with Mme de Montespan would be imprisoned for life without trial. Now that la Trianon and Mariette were dead, they comprised fourteen individuals. Besides Marie herself, Lesage and Guibourg, they were Romani and Bertrand, Vautier and his wife, Mme Chapelain, Galet, Latour, la Pelletier and la Delaporte (both of whom were alleged by Marie to have attended black masses celebrated by Guibourg for Mme de Montespan) Lafrasse (who had sought to obtain la Filastre employment with Mme de Fontanges) and la Bellière.
There were some other unfortunates who were recognised to be personally blameless but who had had the ill luck to be told more than was good for them about Mme de Montespan. Mme Vertemart’s brother, Lemaire, was one such person. Having been arrested with scant justification, he had been placed in a cell at Vincennes with Guibourg and it was feared the latter had relayed to him all the scurrilous things he had said about Mme de Montespan. To prevent this gaining a wider circulation it was agreed that Lemaire should be conducted to the border, where he was to be given a comfortable travel allowance. He was told he would receive a comparable sum every year, provided he behaved discreetly, but he could never return to France without the King’s express authority. For the same reason it was considered too hazardous to let Marie Montvoisin’s cell mates regain their freedom. Instead, they were placed in convents, at the King’s expense.50
There were other individuals who had never been formally tried by the commission but who were nevertheless deemed sufficiently dangerous to warrant their being locked up for ever. There was obviously an element of injustice in this, but in some cases there were at least reasonable grounds for considering it would be unsafe to give these persons their liberty. For instance, one can understand the logic behind the decision to imprison Mme Guesdon, who was suspected of being responsible for the death of M Violet, even if the matter had not been considered in court. Similarly, there were grave suspicions against a woman called la Salomond, whom Debray and Deschault had accused of being a poisoner.
There were, however, others who now disappeared for ever into dungeons who could, surely, have been released without risk. For example, the Maréchal de Luxembourg’s personal astrologer, the self-styled Vicomte de Montemayor (in reality a former apothecary from Lyon called François Bouchard) had been arrested at the same time as his master. This engaging rogue, who cheerfully admitted that his powers of prediction were flawed and who never seems to have done anyone any harm, was to spend the rest of his life in prison. La Voisin’s servant Margot, who denied all knowledge of her employer’s crimes, was likewise incarcerated for ever in Fort des Bains.51
Another woman, the Demoiselle Robert, was deemed guilty by association, for La Reynie considered that the mere fact that she had been a great friend of Magdelaine de La Grange justified her being shut up for life in a particularly unpleasant workhouse. Ten years after she had been placed there, her relations (one of whom, piquantly, had been Attorney-General of the Chambre Ardente) sought to have her freed, pleading that at worst she had been guilty of ‘foolish things rather than crimes’. La Reynie passionately resisted the move, saying that in his view her closeness to such an ‘abominable woman’ meant that her confinement was ‘just and necessary’. It is pleasing to relate that la Robert’s family persevered with their efforts to free her, with the result that one year later she was transferred to a more agreeable convent.52
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The permanent imprisonment of the various individuals whose dealings with Louis Vanens had led to their arrest was also considered a vital precautionary measure. Among them were M. and Mme de Bachimont, who were probably guilty of nothing worse than a misguided enthusiasm for alchemy. The banker Cadelan was another who was considered ineligible for release despite never having been tried. In April 1682 it was noted that he had not even been questioned during the past three years and languishing all that time in gaol had left him mentally unhinged. When La Reynie and Bezons had tried to interview him after this long interval, they found him to be suffering from a ‘troubled mind’ and he answered all their questions ‘in an extravagant manner’. By the summer he was ‘in a mania approaching frenzy’, but there was no question of his being freed on compassionate grounds. When taking steps to have him removed to the citadel of Besançon, Louvois commented it was vital that his confinement was especially rigorous, for he was ‘extremely wicked and capable of attempting anything’.53
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La Reynie found it frustrating that individuals who had owned up to ghastly crimes should escape the horrible punishment they merited. He also regretted that the decision to close down the Chambre Ardente had necessitated the abandonment of proceedings against others who could have been prosecuted without embarrassment. It may be that Louvois had exerted pressure on him to bring matters to a conclusion; certainly in the latter phases of the Chamber’s existence, Louvois’s letters to La Reynie, formerly so encouraging, betray a certain impatience.54
La Reynie had been apprehensive that if the Chamber ended precipitately, it would send out the wrong signals. In April 1682 he wrote that while he recognised it would be undesirable to keep the commission in being for much longer, it would be unfortunate to give the impression that it was being ended out of ‘lassitude’, or because the judges had become disheartened. If that happened the fortune-tellers and treasure seekers of Paris would look on it as a victory and would resume their activities with renewed vigour. While the Chamber had been in session they had ceased operations, but La Reynie believed they were merely biding their time in the expectation of ‘more freedom once this investigation is over’.55
One thing consoled La Reynie. He was aware that despite the grisly punishments inflicted on those convicted of capital crimes by the Chamber, the memory of these executions would fade astonishingly quickly. However, the knowledge that some of those arrested had been locked away with no prospect of release would act
as a permanent deterrent, for the members of Paris’s criminal underworld had a peculiar dread of perpetual confinement. La Reynie noted with satisfaction that the thought of former acquaintances mouldering in grim chateaux far from Paris would form ‘a living example’ to others who otherwise might consider it an acceptable risk to emulate their crimes. He explained that ‘in the eyes of those … who are in the same business … prison, abstinence from wine … [and] a life of constraint are … more difficult to support than death, which they hardly fear at all’.56
Initially La Reynie had proposed that no fewer than eighty-five prisoners should be sent to heavily guarded fortresses outside Paris, but the King had baulked at the expense and insisted that the figure be reduced. Having reviewed the list, La Reynie agreed that some of those selected could be sent to less high-security establishments. For example, Dalmas, the blind crony of Vanens’s valet La Chaboissière, could be sent to a workhouse. Yet despite a bit of pruning the list remained long and La Reynie acknowledged that the King was performing ‘a great charity to the public’ by paying for the upkeep of persons who, when at liberty, had committed detestable crimes.57
In the end at least sixty-five prisoners were allocated places in royal fortresses in different parts of France. In December 1682 eighteen male prisoners were sent to Salces, including Bertrand, Latour and Montemayor. Twelve women were sent to Bellisle, including Marie Montvoisin and Mme Chapelain. In Franche-Comté two strongholds received a consignment of prisoners. Among the ten men sent to Besançon were Lesage, Guibourg, Galet and Romani, while fourteen women were confined in St André de Salins. Five more women were shut up in Fort des Bains in Cerdagne and another six were despatched to the Château de Villefranche, near Perpignan.58
La Reynie derived comfort from the thought that the fate of these people could be considered ‘a hundred times worse than death’. This was hardly an exaggeration, for the prisoners were held in conditions of extreme physical discomfort. It was specified that throughout their captivity they must be shackled to the wall of their cell by the ankle or wrist. Although their chains were long enough to permit them to lie down on the palliasse provided for them, all other movements were restricted. Louvois explained to the Intendant of Franche-Comté, who bore overall responsibility for the fortresses of Besançon and St André de Salins, that ‘as these people are scoundrels who deserve the most extreme torments, the King intends them to be attached in this way for fear that they will insult the people appointed to guard them and who go in and out of their chamber to bring them food or remove their bodily waste’.59
Shortly after their arrival at St André de Salins it was agreed that the women prisoners could be left unchained provided they behaved well and the governor guaranteed there was no danger of their escaping. However, as soon as they caused trouble they must immediately be put back in shackles. The male prisoners in other fortresses were not even allowed this latitude. Louvois gave orders that Romani must be kept under particularly strict surveillance, for he was ‘more vigorous and artful’ than his fellows. Although Marie Montvoisin’s claims about him had never been corroborated by a single person, he was kept in fetters for thirty-four years. In 1714 another prisoner was sufficiently moved by his plight to unchain him, but this man was punished for his insubordination by being placed in irons himself.60
The prisoners’ confinement was hard in other ways. They were provided with sheets and blankets but there were no fireplaces in their cells. It was only in January 1687, when they had been incarcerated for more than four years, that the women at Bellisle were permitted braziers in midwinter. An allowance of only ten sols a day was allocated for each prisoner, out of which not just their food but also the wages of their guards had to be paid. Even when expenses had been pared to a minimum at Vincennes, daily costs per prisoner had amounted to twice that sum. However, the governor of Besançon managed very well on these modest resources, for he spent so little on food that he was said to pocket a sizeable profit.61
Perhaps the most terrible aspect of the prisoners’ existence was the way they were utterly cut off from human intercourse. All the castles in which they were imprisoned were geographically remote, but other precautions were taken to ensure the prisoners were completely isolated. Prior to entrusting any of them to his care, Louvois outlined the reasons for this to the Intendant of Franche-Comté. He cautioned, ‘As these are all highly enterprising people they must be guarded with great care and treated very severely if they give the least reason for it, so that if anything whatever escapes from them, the chastisement they receive for it obliges them to restrain themselves.’ Explaining that, above all, they must be prevented from indiscreet utterances, he warned of the possibility that the prisoners might start to shout things about Mme de Montespan, for in the past they had made claims about her ‘without any foundation’. If there was any sign of this, the guards must threaten ‘to discipline them so cruelly for the slightest noise … that not one of them will dare to breathe’.62
To guard against fraternisation, none of the guards garrisoning the citadels were permitted to know the prisoners’ names. Louvois added it hardly needed to be said that all the women prisoners should be guarded by custodians of the same sex, to ensure they could not use feminine charms to effect an escape. Even visits from priests were severely restricted, for the prisoners were permitted only to receive Easter communion or final unction.63
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There was at least one prisoner who could not accept that the situation was irretrievable. In April 1683 Lesage indicated to the governor of Besançon that he was ready to disclose some secret information relating to the King’s safety. He soon discovered that the days had passed when such contrivances could secure him more favourable treatment. On being informed, Louvois thanked the governor for bringing the matter to his attention, but remarked that this was a typical ploy from Lesage, who had ‘long plied a rogue’s trade’. Since the matter concerned the King, it could not be ignored altogether, but Louvois had no doubt that rough handling of Lesage would provide the best means of establishing the truth. If Lesage proved reluctant to elaborate, he should be put on bread and water and beaten morning and night. Louvois concluded, ‘You cannot be too harsh towards that rascal who, all the time he was at Vincennes, could never say a truthful word.’64
A few months later M. and Mme de Bachimont tried a similar ruse. They were imprisoned in St André de Salins, where they were permitted to share a cell, and in December 1683 they approached the Governor to say that they knew of a secret conspiracy against the King. The Governor sent word of this to Versailles, but the King was deeply sceptical. He commented that this was probably just ‘a device they have conceived to bring them back to Paris’. Despite this, it was deemed prudent to look into their claim. The Bachimonts were told that if they revealed all, they could rely on the King’s protection, but when the Governor interviewed them it became apparent that the whole thing had been a deception. Louvois told the Governor that the Bachimonts must ‘do penance for their imposture’, ordering him to punish them by putting them in separate cells.65
By 1688 the Bachimonts were once again sharing living quarters but they were still not reconciled to their confinement. In a vain attempt to attract sympathy, they kept shouting from the window of their cell and dropping messages scrawled on scraps of cloth. Louvois ordered the prison Governor to put an end to this insubordination by giving them nothing but bread and water for a month’.66
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As the years went by, the number of prisoners dwindled. From time to time Louvois was notified that one of them was no more. Cadelan died in September 1684. Guibourg’s passing was noted in January 1686 and Bertrand followed him to the grave fifteen months later. Vanens died in December 1691 at St André de Salins.67 There is no record of the dates when some of the other prisoners died. We do not know, for example, how long Lesage survived, or if Marie Montvoisin reached old age.
A handful of prisoners outlived the King. Mme Guesdon did not die
till August 1717, when she was aged seventy-seven. Out of her tiny allowance for food, she had somehow amassed savings of forty-five livres, which she left to her cell mate with a request that she prayed for her soul. ‘That’s one pensioner less for the King,’ commented the official who relayed the news to Paris. The last relic of the Affair of the Poisons was Mme Chapelain, who died in June 1724, aged sixty-eight. So much time had elapsed since her arrest that the man who notified the Minister of War of her demise was unsure of the exact reasons for her detention, though he had a vague idea that she had once been an accomplice of Mme de Brinvilliers.68
ELEVEN
CONCLUSION
Contrary to what has sometimes been asserted, it is impossible that Louis XIV could have allowed Mme de Montespan to remain at court despite having come to believe that she was a poisoner and Satanist. The King was a ruthless man. When he had deemed it necessary he had never hesitated to deal harshly with individuals who were thought to be close to him. In November 1671, for example, he had had no qualms about arresting his supposed ‘favourite’, the Comte de Lauzun, for an offence whose exact nature remains unclear. Lauzun was incarcerated in the distant fortress of Pignerol, where he remained in solitary confinement for nine years. If the King was capable of that, it is beyond belief that he would have taken no action whatever against a woman he suspected had not only plotted to kill him and Mlle de Fontanges but had also committed foul acts of sacrilege and participated in human sacrifice.