A nosegay or a letter, while the great
Drank only from the Venice glass that broke,
That shivered, scattering round it as in scorn
If aught malignant, aught of thine was there,
Cruel Tophana.
But probably nine-tenths of the crimes suspected were the mere result of the disordered fancies of the age. Knowing as we do on what frivolous evidence women were condemned as witches, it is permissible to be sceptical in regard to the testimony received by the frightened judges when one of these notorious criminals came before them. Nor are the alleged confessions of the women themselves necessarily conclusive. The so-called witches often supplied details of their negotiations with Satan, and of their Sabbatic excursions; and hysterical women in all ages have been addicted to the relation of fictitious narratives circumstantially describing both their vicious and their virtuous exploits. The rapid putrefaction of a corpse was considered to be sufficient evidence that the cause of death had been poison, though it is likely that the poisons then in use would have tended to preserve the body.
The Marchioness of Brinvilliers
was one of the most interesting of the historic poisoners. She was the daughter of the civil lieutenant of Paris, Dreux d’Aubray, and her career as a criminal coincides with the early years of Louis XIV’s reign. She is described as elegant, “petite,” sweet in her disposition, and modest in her demeanour. According to her own confessions, produced at her trial, sometimes admitted, and sometimes denied by her (and characterised by Michelet as confused and impossible, and probably composed under the influence of fever), she commenced her career of crime at the age of 7 years by incestuous intercourse with her brother. She accused herself also of arson. She married the Marquis de Brinvilliers when she was about 20, and after helping him to dissipate their joint fortune, she obtained an order of separation as far as property was concerned, but continued to live with him as well as with his intimate friend, a sinister person who called himself Ste. Croix, and professed to have been a cavalry officer. His real name was Godin, and Michelet, who investigated all the court documents dealing with the case, makes him apparently the agent, and ultimately the victim, of an arch-fiend of the name of Penautier, a cleric who at least profited largely by the sudden deaths of various persons. He describes Ste. Croix as a person of austere manners and as the author of some ascetic books. Penautier was never formally accused, and it is not easy to disentangle the intrigues associated with the case. Whatever these may have been, Madame’s father, disgusted with the scandal created, got Ste. Croix placed in the Bastille. There it is alleged he met with the notorious Italian poisoner, Exili, and learned from him a number of poison secrets, though it is doubtful if the art was a new one to him. Perhaps Penautier got him released; anyhow he went in to the Bastille poor, and came out rich. He married and set up a fine establishment. But he still continued his liaison with the marchioness. During his imprisonment that lady had occupied herself in visiting and consoling patients in the hospitals. Now, according to the usual story, she made use of them by giving them poisoned confectionery, and watching the effects, merely for practice. Then she began to dose her father. His illness lasted eight months, his murderess nursing him tenderly meanwhile. Two brothers were also victims, and then she planned the death of her husband, but according to Mme. de Sévigné her accomplice, Ste. Croix, saved him by providing an antidote. The marquis lived to see his wife punished, but was one of those who exerted himself to get a pardon for her. Ste. Croix next died suddenly, in consequence, it is said, of his accidentally dropping a glass mask which he wore when compounding his poisons. This story, says Michelet, is a fable. A case of poisons in packets was found in his rooms, each neatly labelled with its effects. These, it was alleged, were addressed to the marchioness, who managed to escape to England, Penautier giving her letters of credit, says Michelet. Michelet says the packets of poison were addressed to Penautier. The marchioness was soon after taken at a convent at Liège by a detective who, pretending to be an Abbé, made love to her and induced her to go for a walk with him, when lie handed her over to his men, who took her to Paris. She was tortured (only formally, says Michelet), convicted, marched to Notre Dame with a rope round her neck to make the “amende honorable,” then decapitated, and her body burned.
One of the witnesses at her trial declared that the marchioness once showed her a little box containing some white stuff, and said there were a number of successions in that little parcel. The witness said she was the daughter of an apothecary and recognised that the substance shown her was sublimate.
It has been discussed by experts whether the poison on which Ste. Croix and his mistress chiefly relied was arsenic or sublimate. Most likely it was arsenic. A certain Guy Simon, an apothecary, was employed to experiment with it, and to discover its composition if possible. His report is worth quoting at some length as an illustration of the condition of toxicological science at that period, and incidentally of the simple faith in the almost miraculous powers of the poisoners which evidently possessed all classes at that time.