Читать книгу The Pitaval Casebook - Frederick Schiller - Страница 5

Mary Margaret of Aubray was the daughter of Lord Drogo of Aubray, a civil Lieutenant at the Châtelet, Paris. She married in 1651 the Marquis of Brinvillier, the son of Mister Gobelin, one of the richest presidents of the Account Committee. Both were of equal standing and fortune. The Marquis had a yearly income of 300 000 Pounds, his wife received a pension of 200 000 Pounds and was entitled to a considerable inheritance which she would have to share with a sister and two brothers after her father’s death. Being rich, however, was not the unique advantage of the Marquess. She was not lesser favoured by Nature than by chance. Of an average height, she had a round, friendly face in which grace and regularity of traits united with an expression of a soul totally pure and free of any passion, which gave it the highest attraction. This calmness predominating in all her traits was the true mirror of a soul which was innocent and did not know anger; it won her the trust of everyone with whom she was surrounded, while her Beauty captured all the hearts.

Her seducer would be a certain Mister Godin who called himself Saint Croix and was chief of the Trossi cavalry regiment. The Marquis of Brinvillier, as the highest commander in the Normandy regiment, made his acquaintance on the battlefield.

This Saint Croix was one of those knights of fortune who, because they themselves did not have anything, treated everyone else’s possession as their own. People spoke very suspiciously of his origins. People knew that he was born in Montauban; only that people doubted whether he really came from a good family, or was an illegitimate child from a good family. Luck has not favoured him very much; however, Nature was very generous with him.

He had a pleasant, spiritual face which easily inspired trust and inclination, and possessed the gift of a flexible mind which accepted any form with equal ease, and played so skillfully the role of the prudent person with whoever he precisely performs a deceit.

He was sensitive to human sufferings, attractive to the other gender to a point of generating passion, and jealous in love so much as to giving in himself to rage, even with persons who, because of their public profession, were justified to certain freedoms which could not be unknown to him. Deprived of the unlimited inclination for a dissipated life, because of lack of means, he was capable of any shameful act through which he hoped to win something. Some years before his death, he started to act like a bigot; and he was even supposed to have written suspicious books during this period. He spoke of God like a prophet, while serving him like a priest of Baal and gave himself under this mask which he only took away in the circle of his most trusted friends, the aspect of a totally saintly man, while he was the author and conjurer of the most abominable crimes.

The Marquis of Brinvillier who showed largesses in his lively inclination for pleasures, could only attract the attention of such a man. Attractive enough for Saint Croix to chase away from him his guardian angel! He did also not miss, soon enough, to get into the Marquis' favour through flattering. As soon as the military campaign was over, the Marquis led him to his house.

The husband's friend would, soon, become the wife's lover, and his principles found their ways with the Marquis's inclination which he knew to influence. The Marquis, very dissolute to pay attention to his wife, was totally careless about her behaviour; and the two lovers had free room to do whatever they wanted.

The Marquis brought, finally, his household into such a turmoil, that it would be allowed his wife to take back her fortune and to administer it herself.

With this last step, she believed herself justified to remove her life away from all further external scrutiny and to give in to her inclination without any constraint.

People spoke, soon, loudly about her frequent company with Saint Croix. The Marquis heard the rumours with the greatest indifference. Only that Lord of Aubray, for his daughter's honour, was more than worried about her marriage, and hence, decided to imprison her lover and arrested him as he, unsuspecting, precisely sat in a coach with the Marquess. He would spent a whole year at the Bastille.

In an unfortunate manner, this imprisonment gave in his hand the most terrible means for revenge. At the Bastille, he made the acquaintance of a certain Exili, an Italian who nurtured in him the desire for revenge and taught him, at the same time, the means to achieve it without being punished. “The Frenchs” he said, “act too honestly in their crimes, and also execute their revenge with so little skill that they always become the victim of their own revenge. They give the blow to their enemy with so much publicity that they attract themselves a far more horrible death than the one which they reserve for their enemy; while they, at the same time, lose fortune and honour. The Italians are more refined in their revenge.

They have made it into such an art that they could prepare poisons which cannot be traced even by the most skillful doctor. They are capable to cause a rapid or a long death, according to their goal. In both cases, no traces can be found; and even if some traces are found, hence are they so ambiguous that people can also prescribe them to the most common disease, and in the prevailing uncertainty about these undetermined symptoms which they find in their anatomical investigations, the doctors explain the patient's death not otherwise than with some general excuses, some hidden diseases, terrible fortuities, unhealthy vapors and so on, which they always have at hand. This is really the true art of knowing to account human being's crimes to Nature.”

Saint Croix seized with the greatest eagerness such a favourable occasion to arm himself with such invisible tools of revenge, through which he would satisfy not only his bitter hatred without any danger, but rather, at the same time, could also bring an immense fortune, at once, in the hands of a wife who would share it with him with pleasure. During his imprisonment, he had enough time to learn the Italian's horrible art thoroughly.

These lessons filled, now, the empty hours of the two prisoners. The skillfulness of the teacher and the zeal of the student, fueled by love, revenge and avidity in equal strength, gave wings to the progress of the last one, and even before he left the Bastille, he became a master in this infernal discovery.

The first victim which he chose was Lord Aubray, the Marquess' father. Apart from the fact that at a certain time, this severe judge of morals has disturbed him in the middle of his enjoyment when the husband was either completely blind, or hence totally indifferent; he was, now, standing again everywhere disturbingly in the way of his company with the Marquess and hindered him again to enjoy the sweet fruits of his passion which did not dampen with his imprisonment, but rather was even more exacerbated.

Two of the most excessive passions demanded from him, hence, at the same time, to get rid of such an over-imposing supervision. Only that it was not enough for him to murder his enemy; this enemy should die through the hand of his own daughter. And the Marquess was despicable enough to accept to be the executioner of her own father, only because it was burdensome to her to have his rigorous supervision and his constraints being constantly imposed upon her excesses.

It is unbelievable to what degree of vice a unique, dominating passion can lead a man. Made into a shameful villain by her voluptuous inclination, a daughter can suppress the strongest feeling which Nature has put in us, and resolve to be her father's murderer.

But this was still not enough! In order not to miss her blow, she resolved, beforehand, into some practice which was more abominable than the crime itself. Indoctrinated by the principles of her lover and anointed into the secrets of his infernal art, the Marquess practiced herself, long beforehand, into the most unheard of experiences to reach her goal even more securely.

Her first experiences, she practiced on animals. But her main intention was directed onto human beings; hence, she did not really enjoy these first experiences. She feared that the great difference between the human and animal body constitutions could make her art approximate. She undertook, hence, to previously study them onto human beings themselves! To this end, she distributed poisoned cookies among the poors, and even brought some of these deadly presents in church, to be able to observe with her own eyes the first effects of the same onto sick people.

In the meantime, as her intelligence did not allow her to witness all the effects and symptoms of the poison herself; hence, she resolved finally to make a test with her young maid. She gave her a dish with poisoned berries and pork. The unfortunate maid would become seriously ill, however, still did not die. A fact which would tell Saint Croix that his poison needed still some supplemental dose to be infallible.

She repeated these experiences still methodically with other people to study the effect of her poison on different bodies. Mme of Sévigné made the following descriptions in her letters about these experiences. “The Brinvilliers”, she said, “prepared for their guests sometimes poisoned dove pâté, not to kill them immediately, but rather only to see the effects of the poisons on them. Many more of them, however, died really of the poisons. The Knight of Guet has once taken such a dish. The poison acted upon him, however, very slowly; he died only two or three years later.

As this unfortunate woman was already in prison, she inquired whether he has actually died or not; and as people answered to her that he was still alive, she replied: ”He actually does have a tenacious life.” Lord of Rochefoucault told people that this was a truly authentic incident.”

Hardened already into vice by a range of such unheard-of abominations and confident of not missing her goal through a long exercise; she resolved, finally, to perform the blow against determined victims. It was not difficult for her to find the appropriate occasion. As a scholarly student of Saint Croix, she has made such rapid progressions in the art of deceiving people that she has already for long overcame the reluctance of killing her father who has been very irritated by her behaviour.

Since her lover was brought to Bastille, she has changed her conduct with so much fineness that her father, soon, again, would be completely reconciled with her; and as afterwards, she was also enough cautious not to allow him to guess the continuation of her affair with Saint Croix; hence, she possessed now his whole tenderness and his unlimited trust.

As one day he resolved to retire for a few days from his difficult office on his estate in Offemont, the Marquess had to accompany him. She has made herself indispensable to him. He had entrusted her with the care of his body which was already weakened by work and age; without her, he would not enjoy this pleasure of staying in the countryside. There, in this sacred place of haven, in the middle of the most moving sentimental atmosphere of fatherly love, the Marquess gave to her father the cup of death.

From the beginning, in order not to arouse the slightest suspicion, she immediately took care of her father. Who else could better care for such a dear life than such a tender daughter? She supervised herself all the soups to be prepared for him; she gave them to him with her own hands.

No trait in her face would betray the unnatural crime which was already prepared in her soul. Rather more, she seemed only to watch with redoubled vigilance over the wellbeing of her unfortunate father to whose destruction she already has prepared the stab. Finally, she believed to be secure enough to complete her deed. She put some poison in a soup which she brought herself to him, and she was monstrous enough to tender it to him with the expression of the most tender care for his health.

Not long afterward, hence, the poison made its effect. Lord Aubray suffered a violent spasm and an unbearable stomach pain; a deadly fever burned his body. Under the excuse of assisting him and giving him herself the medicines, his daughter did not leave him one moment unsupervised.

With the deepest expectation, she observed the effects of the poison. Her unique wish was to see death coming quickly; her unique fear, that the strong physical constitution of the unfortunate father might resist the poison. However, none of her facial expression did betray these satanic sentiments; rather more, she seemed to live intensely her father's sufferings. The sick father would be brought back to Paris and succumbed a few days from the strength of the poison.

Certain crimes, particularly crimes of this kind, are so abominable that people are far from suspecting them, or can not even once envision their possibility. No one could guess the true cause of the sudden death of the unfortunate father; no one could imagine that the daughter was the one who targeted his body. People showed to his children their compassion over the loss of such a honest father, and the beautiful, sorrowful daughter was surrounded by her closest relatives. This illusion under which she hid her inner joy, had totally the aspect of sincerity that everyone believed she felt the loss even more painfully than her other brothers and sister. However, she trusted herself to make up for this burdening constraint which she had to endure, in the arms of her abominable lover with whom she has already made beautiful plans to spend the heritage of the killed father in the best manner.

In the meantime, the Marquess' share of the inheritance, turned out not to conform to her expectation. Most of the inheritance was shared between her older brother who succeeded his father's office, and the younger one who was Member of Parliament. Saint Croix and his shameful accomplice saw their goals only half fulfilled. There were, hence, two persons staying in their way of being in possession of all the inheritance which they awaited by murdering the father. The death of the two brothers would hence be decided. In this case, the preemptive rights on the fatherly inheritance, law and the family promises to the sons, made up their death sentence.

Saint Croix undertook himself the completion of this plan. It was enough for him to have brought the Marquess into parricide, and through such act, has secured her discretion and her acceptance of every subsequent steps. What was still left to do, he wanted to achieve by himself.

Two henchmen at his sold, were the most infallible means for him to that end. The first one, named Martin, born in the same province as him, lived in his house and was a kind of butler. He could entrust to this man the most horrible enterprises, knowing that no difficulty would frighten him whenever it was about committing a crime. Fabricating false money was his main occupation; the time he had left, he spent in the most unrestrained excesses. A servant who, in fact, deserved to serve such a master! The other one, named LaChaussée, his former servant, possessed equally all the necessary dispositions to earn his trust perfectly.

The last one would be chosen as the tool. The Marquess found an occasion to hire him in the service of her younger brother who lived together with the older one. However, she hid to her brothers very carefully that this man, previously, was in relationship with Saint Croix, the same way as she, above all, also most painfully kept secret to them her own relationship with her lover.

The first attack should be directed at the civil Lieutenant. LaChaussée would be promised 200 Pistols with the assurance of a lifelong support, if he would eliminate him off their way. The zeal with which this villain did his work, has however almost betrayed the whole plan.

Eager to fulfill his contract rapidly, and wanting not to fail his goal, he gave his victim too strong a dose. He brought to the civil Lieutenant a poisoned glass of water and wine. Hardly has this one brought it onto his lips, that he repelled it, frightened and shouted: “What have you given to me, villain? I believe you wanted to poison me!” He gave the glass to his secretary who tasted some of it in a spoon and assured that it tasted bitter and smelled like vitriol. The smallest confusion of the servant would betray everything. But criminals of that kind seldom lack the necessary presence of mind. Without the least losing his composure, LaChaussée took in hurry the glass and emptied it. “Apparently, he said, I took a glass in a hurry from which the Member of Parliament, early today, has taken his medicine, hence the bitter taste.” Hence, he got away with this incident with a mere reprimand, because of his negligence; and the incident aroused not any further suspicion.

However, this failed attempt, despite being linked with such a great danger, did not deter the plotters from continuing their plan. To execute it more securely, they decided to put in danger, at the same time, many more persons who were not specifically their target.

In the beginning of April 1670, the civil Lieutenant went onto his estate near Villequoy in Beausse, to spend the Easter holidays there. The Member of Parliament, accompanied by LaChaussée, travelled with him. One day, as a numerous company ate with them for lunch, seven persons would suddenly, at the same time, become sick from the meal. These were the ones who have eaten a stew which has been served them. All the others who did pass this specific dish remained healthy. The civil Lieutenant and the Member of Parliament were the first ones on whom the effect of the gift were seen. They would be seized by the most violent vomiting. On April 12th, they returned back to Paris, both with livid faces as if they were precisely enduring a long and severe illness again.

This incidence kept Saint Croix ready for the right moment when all the advantages which he has intentioned for himself in the crime would come. He exhibited two letters from the Marquess, the first one of 30 000 Pounds in his own name and the other one of 25 000 Pounds in Martin’s name. So great were hence the sums which the Marquess paid for the murder of her brothers!

In the meantime, the civil Lieutenant's condition would worsen day by day. He observed an insurmountable aversion for any dish and his vomiting continued. Three days before his death, he felt a raging fire in his stomach, which seemed to devour him totally. He died, finally, on June 17th, 1670. During his autopsy, people found the stomach and the bladder totally blackened and dried, as if they were burned by an intense fire; and the liver was deformed and gangrened. It was concluded that he must have been poisoned. But who should be the suspected man? People did not have yet the least suspicion.

The Marquess has taken the precaution, during this incident, to go to the countryside. Saint Croix reported to her, now, the death of the civil Lieutenant by adding: the Member of Parliament's condition would allow to hope that he soon will follow his brother.

In fact, the Member of Parliament had also the same symptoms as his brother. He must, however, still spend one month longer in this deplorable situation.

His mind was not lesser martyred by a painful fear, than his body by violent pains. Unceasingly suffering from inside and outside, he found every position uncomfortable. Staying in bed was a martyrdom to him; and yet, has he hardly left it, that he demanded to return there again to seek relief which he found only in the arms of death. People opened his corpse and found his stomach and liver in the same condition as his brother's. That LaChaussée was the murderer, he guessed so little for he bequeathed him a rather large sum of 300 Pounds in his will, which would be given to him without any difficulty.

Yet, the Marquess' thirst for inheritance was still not quenched. Until now, she has worked for half for her sister with whom she has to share their brothers' inheritance. To have everything for herself, this latter must also be gotten rid of, and hence, her work was still only half done, if a fourth murder would still not follow the previous three. She saw, hence, to it that her sister would also succumb with the namely weapons. Only that this one, warned by so many terrible examples which happened so rapidly, one after the others in her family, was on her guard and faced all the subsequent events with intelligent precaution.

However, the Marquess' husband would also be involved in the worst manner. “Lady Brinvillier”, told Lady Sévigné in her 270th letter, “wanted to marry Saint Croix and gave many times to her husband poison to be able to execute this plan. Saint Croix, however, who really did not have any envy to marry a woman who was equal to him in abomination, sought every time to hinder the execution of this plan, and brought him antidote. Only in this way would the unfortunate husband be able to maintain his life: targeted by two monsters, he would sometimes be poisoned, sometimes be given antidote.”

People were speaking, now, only about these three rapid death cases, and the circumstances under which they took place, did not allow any doubt that the father as well as the two sons have died of poisoning.

However, people only had empty presumptions about their authors. Saint Croix was not the least suspected. Every one believed that his relationship with the Marquess was already over for a long time; why should he, hence, have committed these crimes? LaChaussée was also not suspected. He has observed so much innocence in covering his culpability not lesser than as in executing the same crimes that it did not occur to anyone to prescribe them to him.

A fortuity uncovered, finally, the whole infernal plot. Saint Croix had, in truth, fulfilled his goal with the Aubray family.

Only that for a man whose desires would only become ever insatiable with every satisfaction, an art which offered such easy means to reach any goal, had too much attraction to be left aside unused immediately after the first attempt. Rather more, he now only furthered the study of the same art with even greater zeal. The poisons which he concocted were so fine that they could kill with a single inhalation; for that reason, he always wear during his preparations a glass mask to keep himself from the poisonous emanations. One day, however, his mask fell from his face, and he was killed on the spot.

No one knew whether he still had relatives. The authority allowed, hence, his belongings to be sealed and made an inventory of them. Among other things, was also discovered a small coffer in which, by its opening, people immediately found on its top a writing with the following content:

“I ask the person in whose hands this coffer could fall, to have the graciousness to deliver the same coffer, by hand, to the Marquess of Brinvillier, on the new Paul Street, because everything that it contains concerns her alone and belonged to her alone, and no other human being can have an interest in it apart from her. Should, however, this Lady already have died before me; hence, I ask that the same little coffer neither be opened, nor its content be tested, but rather, to burn it immediately with all its content.

Should, however, the person in whose hands this coffer shall fall, take as an excuse that people hence cannot know whether all this is true or not; hence, I swear to God whom I pray and to all that is sacred, that it is the real truth. Should such person, however, despite all this, act contrarily to my good intention and careful instructions; hence, I put the consequences on his conscience in this and the other world, while I declare that this is my last will.

Written in Paris, on May 25th, 1672, in the afternoon.

Signed by Saint Croix.

Further down was still written: “Parcel intentioned for Mister Penautier who should deliver it.”

The authority did not have any reluctance to examine the coffer; and we will, now, give our readers a description of its treasures under the protection of God and all that is most sacred, in the words of the affidavit communicated about it.

“1. In the little coffer was found a pack with eight seals of different types with the inscription: “Papers which are to be burned after my death, as they cannot be of any use to anyone. I ask very appropriately, for that reason, and I put it on the conscience of the person in whose hands they will fall, that he should follow the instructions, but without opening these letters.” In this pack were two other parcels which contained sublimated mercury.

“2. Another pack with six seals of different designs and labeled in the same manner, in which a half pound of sublimated mercury was equally found.

“3. A pack sealed and labeled in the same manner, with three smaller packs: the first contained half an ounce of mercury, the second two ounces of sublimated mercury and one fourth pound of Roman vitriol, and the third one contained calcined vitriol.

“4. A large square bottle containing a nettle in a clear water, but which as Mister Moreau, the doctor, assured, cannot be ascertained until it is analyzed.

“5. Another smaller bottle with the same clear water, on which bottom a white deposit was found. Mister Moreau made the same remark about it.

“6. A small pot of porcelain in which were two or three ounces of prepared opium.

“7. A folded paper container in which were found two drams of sublimated corrosive mercury.

“8. A box of infernal stones.

“9. A folded paper containing an ounce of opium.

“10. A three-ounce piece of Regulus Antimonii.

“11. A pack of powder on which cover was written: “To calm women's blood”. Mister Moreau said, it is made of dried quince burgeons and leaves.

“12. A pack with six different seals similar to the previous packs, in which twenty seven little pieces of folded paper were contained, each with the inscription: “various specific secrets.”

“13. A parcel with the same previous inscription, in which people found six different smaller packs addressed to different persons and contained together sixty five pounds of sublimated mercury.”

We add this list of poisons immediately to one of the reports which the doctors made about their investigations.

“Saint Croix's artificial poison” said one of the doctors, “amazed people after all the analysis made about it.

It is so well hidden that people could not recognize it; it is so finely made that it undermines all the knowledge of a doctor. These poisons were experimented mostly either with the elements, or with animals.

In water, the poison sinks on the bottom because of its weight; it catalyzes and sinks under. Under fire, all the foreign and harmless components are separated and washed away, only remains an acid, bitter substance. On animals, people remarked traces of their presence all over the whole body; it spreads all over the members, penetrates all the veins, burns and corrodes all the organs. Experiencing any of Saint Croix's poisons is destructive, pronouncing any rule about them uncertain and expressing any aphorism ridicule. They float on the water; they leave by the test of fire only a sweet, harmless substance, and are hidden in the animal bodies so skilfully that people cannot recognize them. People have done all kinds of tests with them.

First, from one of the bottles, people poured some drops onto wine stones and into sea water; however, the drops did not really catalyze on the bottom of the recipient in which people made the experiment. People made another experiment by pouring the namely water in a recipient full of warm sand; however, not any of the bitter smelling of the matter remained on the sand. The third attempt would be made with a young Indian hen, a pigeon and a dog. These animals died immediately afterwards. As people opened their corpses on the following day, really nothing more was found than a little dried blood in the heart. People made still another experiment with one of the white powder with a cat by giving it some of the poison with sheep bladder. It spitted for half an hour; and on the following day, people found it dead. People saw, however, in the autopsy that not a unique organ was attacked by the poison. A second experiment with the same powder would be undertaken on a pigeon which died also a short time afterwards. In the autopsy, people found nothing more than a little reddish water in the stomach.”

People could derive from these proofs how far Saint Croix has perfected himself, little by little, into this horrible art. In fact, with these means, he was the most dangerous man who could declare war to the whole world, to the whole human race and yet remain unpunished.

Apart from this range of the most fearful poisons; this little coffer also contained, to Lady Brinvillier's misfortune, all the papers written by her. People found in there, not only all the letters which she has written to him, but rather also the precise one written by her to Saint Croix for the payment of 30 000 Pounds.

In one of the letters, the Marquess wrote: “Decided to end my life, I have this evening taken something from the substance which your friendly hand has given to me. I used Glazer's formula. You see that I can sacrifice my life for you. However, I do not give up the wish of seeing you, maybe, again at a certain place to bid you a last farewell.” Apparently was this only one of the menaces which prevailed among the speech of irritated lovers, and usually is only the sign of a nearing reconciliation. However, people realized that between these two souls associated in the darkest crime, the best harmony has not always prevailed.

The Marquess learned, at the same time, of Saint Croix's death and the sealing of his belongings. The pain over the loss of her lover would be added to the nervousness caused by these parcels. As people will immediately see, the love between these two human beings who must have feared each other, has already for long dampened. And the fatal coffer left her, now, really not any time to think about something else. All the efforts she made to get hold of it, we read from the following eyewitnesses.

Peter Frater, Inspector Picard's scribe, said during the witness hearings that Lady Brinvillier came in the evening, around ten o’clock, in his master's house to speak with him. The scribe has answered to her that his master was already in bed. Then, she demanded that he should announce her to the Inspector, that she wanted to see him, because of the little coffer which was among the sealed belongings of Saint Croix and belonged to her, and which she wanted to claim back, unopened. The Inspector answered to her, through him, that he has already gone to bed; and has asked her to send a man, on the next morning, to pick up the little coffer.

Another witness named Cluet testified: Lady Brinvillier has said that her oldest brother was a good for nothing; if it only depended upon her, she would have already for long had him murdered by two noblemen, as he was still an Intendant in Orleans. She has been kind to Saint Croix only in order to obtain the little coffer from him, and she would have very much, after his death, given fifty golden Louis coins to anyone who could get it for her; she did not want anyone to see its content which was matter of importance only to her. When he told her afterwards that Inspector Picard has affirmed finding specific belongings in the little coffer, she became suddenly red, and has immediately sought to divert the conversation onto something else. He has also taken the freedom to ask her whether or not she did not have any share in the poisonings of which Saint Croix was suspected. She has then answered with visible confusion: “Why me?”.

At the same time, she was extremely ashamed and without knowing what she was talking about, added that she has been with Saint Croix long enough to be entitled to the little coffer, and if she will get it, she would allow her interlocutor to be hanged.

The Marquess saw, soon, distinctively enough, that it was too late to recover the little coffer.

It was in the hands of the authority, and she could not hope that it would be delivered to her without further investigation. Hence, to remove herself from the nearing danger, she resolved to seek her salvation by fleeing. She left suddenly Picpus where she was then staying in the night and fled to Lüttich.

Before she left, she took care still of an administrative procedure to be filed in her name with the seal department. This department reported the following in an affidavit: “Appears before us Alexander LaMare as representative of Lady Mary Margaret of Aubray, Marquess of Brinvillier and affirms that if in a small coffer, a signed letter of promise from a mentioned Marquess of Brinvillier promising a sum of 30 000 Pounds should be found, such a promise was obtained through malice and by surprise from her, and hence, she wished to declare it null and void.”

All these details gave grounds to enough suspicion against the Marquess that she has made common cause with Saint Croix. Only that suspicion were just not sufficient to convince people. At once, however, the judges received a new light through LaChaussée who delivered Justice in their hands through his silliness. He, namely, made objections to the seal department, because of particular claims which he still has to make upon Saint Croix. He claimed that during the seven years which he spent in his service, he has lent him hundreds of Pistols and hundreds of Thalers in silver coins which must be found in a linen purse behind the cabinet window, with Saint Croix's written statement confirming his testimony. People would further find in the same place a cession of 300 Pounds, established to a certain LaSerre, which he has received from the deceased Member of Parliament Aubray, and three receipts from his master, about one hundred Pounds each. He demanded hence these papers as well as his money back.

These precise indications of so many specific details which people found to be correct, allowed to presume that LaChaussée must have a very precise knowledge of what was contained in Saint Croix's cabinet. However, apparently only the most trusted friends had access to the cabinet, and one cannot become the trusted friend of such a human being without sharing his crimes. LaChaussée has, hence, through this step, aroused a strong suspicion against himself, which would still increase very much when he showed a great nervousness when people asked him what kind of discoveries would be made in the parcels.

Lady Villarceau, the widow of the younger civil Lieutenant of Aubray, considered these facts to be strong enough to accuse him unashamedly of her husband's poisoning. A decree for his imprisonment would, hence, be immediately issued. When he was arrested, they found poison with him. The trial began, hence, with the witness hearings. We want only to mention here some of the most remarkable ones from the great deal of eyewitnesses.

Lawrence Perette, an apprentice at Glazer's drugstore declared that he has often seen a lady in company of Saint Croix coming to his master's, whose servant once has said to him that her name was Lady Brinvillier, I would bet my head that she only comes to Glazer's to have him prepare a poison. He added that she ordered her coach, every time she was coming, to stop away from the drugstore.

The second witness was Amanda Huet, the pharmacist's daughter who had free entry at Marquess of Brinvillier's house and often went there. The following is her testimony: “One day, I found myself in the Marquess's anteroom when this one, still totally drunk, precisely came in to dissipate her drunkenness.

In this condition, she was so unsuspecting as to show me a box which she took from her coffer. “Here is something,” she said, “with which one can avenge on his enemies, it is also very efficient for inheritances!” I recognized it as being sublimated mercury, partly powder, partly solid.

When the Marquess awakened again after seven or eight hours, and the effects of wine were gone, I told her what happened. “That was only words spoken in the wind!” she replied, however, recommended me to observe total secrecy about it. Hence, she always made sure that this coffer be kept locked with the most extreme care, and told me to set it immediately into the fire, if she should die. As she once was embarrassed”, continued this witness, “she said that she will poison herself. Another time, as she was irritated against someone, she said: “There are means to kill opponents by the neck, all is needed is putting a bullet in a broth!”. I also very often saw LaChaussée in intimate conversations with the Marquess. “This is, hence, a brave young person,” she said one day to him, while rubbing his cheeks, “He has done a good job for me!”

A young lady, Villeray, testified that she has found LaChaussée in great confidence with the Marquess. After the death of the civil Lieutenant, she has seen both gathered alone, and two days after the death of the Member of Parliament, the Marquess even had to hide him behind her bed, because precisely Mister Cousté, the secretary of the deceased, was announcing his visit to her. LaChaussée himself avowed this detail in his second hearing. He had a letter from Saint Croix, he said, for the Marquess and has been concerned about Mister Cousté finding him, if he did not hide.

Cluet who, as already above mentioned, testified against the Marquess, added: “Even before the two young Lords Aubray's poisoning, he has one day said to Lady Brinvillier: “If the civil Lieutenant knew that LaChaussée has served with Saint Croix, he would have immediately dismissed him!” “My God!” she answered in hurry, “do not say anything to my brothers about it, I believe they would dismiss him from their house; and yet, I would rather see him earn something than serving in another house.”

Other witnesses told that during his master's illness, as LaChaussée was called by him, he has answered the following, using a terrible and despicable nickname which he has given his master: “He is already weak, but gives us still a lot to do, I know not when he will make his last farewell.” And after his death, as he has covered him with a linen, he has said the namely shameful words: “Now, he is dead! I will allow him to be buried; I have honestly shaken him; during his lifetime, I would have never sha-

ken him!”

The Tribunal of Châtelet kept, in the meantime, the proofs not for sufficient to pronounce the death sentence against him, and condemn him of first degree torture. However, Lady Villarceau made an appeal against this judgement which could be removing the criminal easily from the deserved punishment, if he only has enough courage to overcome torture and to deny his crime steadfastly. Afterwards, on March 4th, 1673, the criminal court would issue the following new judgement about LaChaussée: “it is solemnly and publicly declared that LaChaussée, accused and guilty of the crime of having killed with poison the civil Lieutenant and the Member of Parliament of Aubray, is being condemned to the well deserved punishment of being attached alive on a wheel and then to be dismembered. Before the execution, however, he should still be submitted to ordinary and extraordinary torture, in order to know from him the name of his accomplices. By the way, the Marquess of Brinvillier who disdained to appear before the judge, is condemned to be beheaded.”

During torture, he confessed his crimes and declared that he has specifically only been a commissioner for Saint Croix who gave him great rewards to execute his intentions. “The first time;” he added, “when Saint Croix gave poison to me, he said to me that he has already received the same poison from the Marquess whose brothers should be poisoned with it; however, after the act really took place, he said that Lady Brinvillier knew nothing about it.

This last information, however, seemed very improbable to me, for she spoke not only daily with me about poison, but rather wanted me also, after having completed the act, to flee and even gave me money in this intention. The poisoning of the two brothers,” he continued, “I executed with water and broths. I poured the reddish poison in the glass which I gave to the civil Lieutenant and the translucent poison in the pâté served in Villequoy.” People can conclude from that, that it took him many attempts to poison the two brothers. “Saint Croix,” he said finally still, “has also great envy to poison the Marquess's sister, and endeavoured to have a servant hired by her, who should have committed the act. Only that the attempt failed, either because a favourable fortuity took place, or because the young Lady Aubray, guessing the true cause of the sudden deaths in her family, distrusted everything which came through the hand, or the recommendation of her sister.”

Despite all this, this Lady supported her murdering sister by giving her money during her fleeing. Now, LaChaussée's death sentence would be immediately executed on the public place.

The whole weight of the accusation in the investigation was now falling upon the Marquess of Brinvillier. Everyone was convinced that she was guilty; people spoke her name with despite. In the meantime, she believed to escape from the arms of Justice by fleeing away in a foreign land.

But the asylum which Princes, moved by their feelings of humanity, grant even to those who have suppressed all feelings of humanity in themselves; the protection which will be assured for misdemeanors, is not a license to commit a crime before which Humanity itself was frightened: the authors of such crimes will be delivered to Justice, as soon as the reasons for the arrest would be presented to the regents.

People sent a Corporal from the mounted police, named Desgrais, to Lüttich, accompanied by some justice officers with a royal letter to the Council of the Sixty itself, in which the monarch demanded that the Marquess be delivered to him to allow the pertaining punishments to be executed upon her. The Council to which Desgrais presented the letter with an excerpt of the legal act, did not have any hesitation to give him immediately permission to arrest Lady Brinvillier.

Desgrais who heard that she has hidden in a cloister, kept it not for advisable to arrest her with force in this free zone. He could easily fail his whole goal. It was to be feared that a forceful capture in the cloister could be seen as desecration of a saintly place and could cause a riot in the city, and may snatch away from his hands his captive.

He found, hence, an outcome in a malice. Disguised as an Abbot, he called for the Marquess. He would be a French man, he said, and did not want to travel through Lüttich without visiting a Lady who equally aroused a general interest through her unfortunate destiny as a general admiration through her beauty. He played his role so well that he soon came to talk to her about love. He found a hearing by the Marquess. A cloister is a very uncomfortable place for the reliable encounters of two lovers. Desgrais proposed, hence, a trip in the countryside. His proposition would be accepted. Hardly were they, however, outside the city that the beloved Abbot suddenly transformed himself into a terrible Corporal of the mounted police, and gave her into the hands of his men who have waited her already there.

Vested with an order from the Council, which secured him a free entry, he went then immediately into the cloister and searched everything that he found in the Marquess' room. The Marquess was most worried by a coffer which he found under her bed. She asked very pressingly that people should give it back to her. But Desgrais was deaf enough to all her requests. Finally, she demanded only to have, at least, the papers which she called her confessions; but this would be denied her too. Even for the respect which people otherwise care to show for everything relating to the sacrament of confession, the Corporal could not determine himself to give back to her her handwritten papers. He held it for his rigorous officer's duty not only the criminal, but rather also everything that could serve to her conviction, to deliver to the hands of Justice.

The Marquess attempted, in the meantime, another means to save herself, or at least her coffer. She offered money to one of the guards to undertake a commission for her, and as this one was willing, hence she gave him a letter for a certain Theria with whom she has lived during her stay in Lüttich in very intimate company. In this letter, she asked him to come to help her most hurriedly and to save her from the hands of Desgrais; and in a second letter, she told him that her whole guard consist only of eight soldiers whom five resolved men can easily overcome. In a third letter, finally, she wrote to the beloved Theria that if he could not save her using force publicly; hence, he should at least come to stab to death some of her coach's horses, and take hold of the coffer, because otherwise it would be unmistakably lost.

None of these letters landed into Theria’s hands, because the guard betrayed her commission. It is only fortuitously that he found himself in Maastricht, when she would be brought to this city and made an attempt to corrupt her guards. He raised his rewards up to 1 000 Pistols, if they would make the Marquess escape. But they remained unmoved. As all hope for salvation seemed lost, the Marquess wanted, out of despair, to take her own life, and to this end, wanted to swallow a needle. One of her guards would, however, guess her intention and prevented her from executing it.

In the meantime, the Parliament received the order to send Member of Parliament Palluau to go to Rocroi and to hear immediately the Marquess. The goal of this order was either to hinder her from unravelling a cabal to her advantage, as she was almost in relationship with the whole Parliament, or not to give her time to think about her answers and to regain force, through making up skillful subterfuges, with other Members of Parliament. The commission would be correctly executed.

As soon as the Marquess arrived in Paris and was brought for custody in the Parliament prison, she turned to Mister Penautier who, as main cashier of the regular and spiritual authorities of Languedoc, disposed of a great income and had permission to keep an opulent table. Through these two advantages, he enjoyed overall respect and could, in fact, grant protection. He found himself, however, dragged into this story, but needed for himself his whole credibility.

A letter which the Marquess wrote to him from the Parliament prison, would be delivered and brought to him to his great embarrassment. She told him really frankly in this letter about the danger which was menacing her, of losing her life on the scaffold, and about the conduct which she was resolved to observe during her hearing. She has undertaken, she wrote, to deny everything and to confess nothing. She asked him, finally, still for an advice and sought his friends' influence to make prevail for her.

In line with this resolution, she has, in fact, already in the hearing in Rocroi, observed this behaviour and has denied everything stubbornly. She would know nothing about the letters which she has written after her imprisonment; and she would also not know of Saint Croix's little coffer which people showed to her. About the promissory note of 30 000 Pounds, she said that she has shown it to Saint Croix so that he could show it to her creditors, and this could be used as guarantee for the future expenses and collateral against the trials which people have set up against her. For that reason, he has given her a receipt which she, however, has lost in the meantime.

In prison, she affected a mental calmness which was totally foreign to her heart. She knew her crimes, and she also realized that her judges know all about them too. Unceasingly, the image of death which she expected, surrounded her, and in the moment when she seemed to play with an apparent calm a party of piquet, her unique thought was about committing suicide. She chose for this goal a means which she hoped, would curtail the attention of her guards most easily. She has fabricated a sharp tool with a very long tube and intended to use it without any outside help. She sought, so far, to introduce it in her body and pierce her own organs, resolved to remove herself, through the torments of such death, from the humiliation which the hands of Justice has prepared for her. People discovered, however, her plan and she would be prevented from achieving it.

The most important among the proofs existing against her, was her written confession in which information about the most secret details of her life would be kept. There is almost not any crime which she is not recognizing in those writings. Immediately in the introduction, she declared herself to be a murderer, and recognized that she has put fire in a house and has acquainted herself with excesses of all sorts, has indulged herself into all the disorders of voluptuousness and drunkenness without any restraint. “Lady Brinvillier told us in her confession,” wrote Lady Sévigné in her 269th letter and in fact, it is really true what she wrote about it, if otherwise what has been said about the case, was not always true, “that she ceased to be a virgin already in her seventh year, and has behaved all along in equal manner. She has poisoned her father, her brothers and once her children, and has even taken poison herself to find out an antidote against it. Medea herself would not have gone so far.

She has recognized among other confessions, her handwriting, a move which is not so intelligent; however, she affirmed that she has written these notes while experiencing the most violent fever, that they only constitute a series of senseless, clumsy discourse which people could not even read without laughing.” In the following letters, she added still: “People speak, now, of nothing else but Brinvillier. About what she said, what she did, how she behaved. Her parricide, she has presumably written in her confession in order not to forget it to her confessor. People must in fact confess that her littlest scruples about fearing to forget something, are laudable.”

The criminal found, in the meantime, a skillful defender in Mister Nivelle, a man who was equally famous for his intelligence and honesty as for his fundamental, scholarly knowledge and who deployed all the forces of his spirit to save his client. The following are the main defence which he presented for her:

“The Marquess was very wrong,” said he immediately in the preamble of his apology, “to allow such a reprehensible love to take root in her heart, and it is even more reproachable as she has chosen the most despicable of all human beings as the object of her tenderness. But she did not know him. He knew to deceive people and hid the most condemnable heart under the mask of a rigorous honesty.

“He alone was the author of the horrible destiny which the Marquess' family encountered; and this vicious person whom she loved so tenderly, whom she made into a confidant of her sufferings, in whose company she sought trust and relief, deeply wounded by the sudden and sad loss of her most loved and trusted persons; this villain was horrible enough, for while he dried her tears with one hand, he did broke her heart, one more time, with the other.

“He has sworn the downfall of her family, and he kept his oath. Deeply vexed by Lord Aubray's attitude who has taken him away from the arms of Love, to allow him to languish in a terrible prison, he has long nurtured a bitter revenge in his heart. Greed, finally, pushed him to take his resolution, to execute the revenge which he has already for long prepared. He would take hold of a great fortune, while he would, actually, only satisfy his hatred. Two motives which were strong enough to make such a dark soul capable of anything. It is true that the fortune did not fall into his hands; however, the Marquess whom he dominated totally, was a heiress and whatever was in her hands, he could dispose of, unlimitedly. She wanted this terrible event which gave her a fortune, fortune which she had to buy with such a great loss, and not knowing from what terrible hand she would receive this unfortunate present, she accused Nature itself, for having to share all this fortune which she would have rather bought with her own life, if it were only allowed her.

“In the letters which people have found in the infamous small coffer, there was not the least trace of the share which she has had in the gruesome acts committed by Saint Croix. However, is there really something to discover, since Saint Croix has already so carefully arranged everything for her? The highest trust of a tender love seems to have inspired these letters, they bore the mark of the frankest truthfulness, her whole heart is unravelled in there, and hence, people do not even find the littlest thing to suspect about her participation in these terrible murders.

“Such an exercised villain as Saint Croix was, did know well enough that the security of a criminal depends upon his discretion, and that any confidant is always to be considered as an opening through which secrets can be easily divulged. Such a human being trusted only his most indispensable henchmen, and to that end, did not choose persons from whom it is to be feared that they would be frightened by the voice of Nature just by executing the first move, hence missing their blow with a trembling, uncertain hand, or be tortured by remorse after completing their action, and hence could betray themselves.

“Saint Croix made his choice better. He needed more than a help to execute his plan, and this other person was LaChaussée. The outcome has shown that he was right in entrusting himself to him so confidently.

“Should the Marquess' personal details be linked to these considerations; then, people must, far from raising towards her the least suspicion, rather more recognize that it is the most villainous and condemnable calumny to accuse her of this crime. The Marquess is from an excellent family. No shameful act, not even once a reproach has indeed stained the blood which flew in her veins. She inherited honour and honesty from her forefathers and from all the persons who carry the name of Aubray, and the seeds of these virtues which were put in her heart already through birth, has been developed and cared for by the most careful education.

Nature and chance have also not provided their preferences in vain in her. It is true, the Marquess' reputation has not remained totally unstained. But the steps which concluded about a disadvantageous judgement for her, were only the consequences of a passionate love which, born from blindness, would be maintained by her own husband's disorders. Her remaining behaviour, however, and her known mentality are so against the crimes of which she is now accused, that when they happened, no one raised the slightest suspicion against her, and put at her disposition, without any hinder, the fortune which she should have acquired through such gruesome acts.

It is unfortunate that this regrettable victim of calumny sees it necessary for her defence to uncover even weaknesses which she otherwise would have covered with the veil of shame. But to save herself from such a shameful punishment, she is forced to justify herself in her errors. The undeniable faithfulness which the Marquess observed toward the despicable person who was her deceiver and through whom her virtue capsized, can, in fact, find its place only in a soft heart. And should such heart be capable of deciding to murder father and brothers? A heart which deplores sufferings in others, which feels the pains of others as its own? But calumny makes an exception with the Marquess in order to bring her on the scaffold. Would the most tender sentiments be united with horror with her, something which is even unnatural in wild animals.

In truth, it is undeniable that Love, until now, has led people to take steps which are incompatible with the natural state of a heart supposed to be dominated by it. However, if we consider that examples of this kind are extremely rare; then, only two causes of such unnatural appearances can also be given: jealousy and close surveillance. To evict a rival, should not hence the Marquess well have poisoned her father and her brothers? Yet, there has never been an instance where she has, indeed, made a similar assault on a young lady. In none of her letters did we find the least trace of jealousy; neither verbally, nor in writing has she ever complained that her lover shared his heart between her and another one.

Equally little disturbed was her relationship with Saint Croix by a close supervision. Her husband who himself lived in unceasing dissipations and who, because of his coldness toward her, gave her the first occasion to commit her errors; stood in the way of her relationship with Saint Croix as little as any totally indifferent human being. Her father, her brothers did not equally constitute any constraint for her. She was fine enough to curtail them; they died in full conviction that she has broken up already for long with Saint Croix. One cannot think of a unique motive for such a heart, soft and filled with the most tender feelings, to be at once dragged into such abomination.

Presumptions of such importance speak for the Marquess! To refute such enlightening grounds, people can rightfully demand proofs which must be as strong as the truth and reality of a miracle. What are they, however, but proofs which people presented against the Marquess to bring her on the scaffold? The most dangerous among all the testimonies against her is Cluet’s account. But he is alone, and a single witness is not sufficient to decide over a matter. In this regard, is it not improbable that a lady of such standing has made such an insignificant human being into her confidant? None of the other confidants appeared as eyewitness, none told anything about what he has seen; everything that they said, are mere presumptions.

The testimony which people have received from LaChaussée even before his execution, contained two pieces. First, he declares staunchly that Saint Croix has assured him that the Marquess not only had not any responsibility in the poisonings, but rather never knew anything about them. The second part of his acknowledgment, however, consisted of conjectures and suspicions from which this unworthy person sought to prove that this Saint Croix's statement was a lie.

That the Marquess has very often spoken with him about poisonings, proves nothing more that her whole imagination was filled with images of the crimes through which she has lost both her brothers so rapidly, one after the other. Everything reminded her of these terrible incidents; it was the usual subject which she talked about with all her relatives and friends. And then, precisely the fact that she spoke so often about poisonings, is an appropriate proof of her innocence. Criminals make of their gruesome acts certainly not into the usual subject of their conversations; anything that has only a remote relationship to their crimes, they rather keep away very carefully; their remorse grow with every mention of the crime which they are guilty of; they fear that each of their words, their looks, even each expression on their face, can betray them.

Far to the contrary, in all these repeated conversations about poisonings which the Marquess should have had, lead to the conclusion that she is not implicated in Saint Croix's crimes, people must rather more see them as proofs of her innocence. That she has enticed LaChaussée to leave Paris, can be explained very naturally from the circumstance that she wanted voluntarily to remove away a man whom Saint Croix has anointed into the most trusted secrets of their love. His presence was embarrassing for her, because she must have been ashamed of weaknesses from which witnesses are not voluntarily tolerated, and which are very unsafe if known by a servant.

All these details deserve not so much consideration. They are nothing more than testimonies of a calumniated villain who, as a proven enemy of the whole human race, cannot deserve any belief. If they were, however, true and if people were really justified to put them to the Marquess' disadvantage; yet they all remain but only presumptions. Can people, however, ground on such unsubstantiated facts the proof of crimes which contradict all natural sentiments and are impossible according to the Marquess' known mentality as well as her education?

However, did she not strive so pressingly to get hold of Saint Croix's small coffer, before it would be opened, and shows not her supplicating demand that she feared to be betrayed by what was contained in there? But people should only investigate what was in there to verify at once such supposition.

People found, first, a declaration stating that everything contained in the small coffer belonged to the Marquess of Brinvillier, that its content only has some interest for her alone and that people should hand it over to her, or in the case she were already dead, burn it. Then, people found the Marquess' love letters which Saint Croix kept very preciously, a silliness which lovers make very frequently and very often, has terrible consequences! Saint Croix was also seduced by this illusion, he kept each letter from the Marquess as an assurance of her tenderness; however, he wanted that these proofs of her love be returned into the hands from which he has received them. On these grounds, he has so expressly ordered that people give back to the Lady the small coffer, or in case she was deceased, burn it.

She, as a woman, was not any more interested in keeping for posterity any information about her past errors, had not kept any of the letters which she has received from him. Only that this precaution did not assure her about her secrets, as long as she knew that he kept her letters with him. She also shared her worry about these letters many times to her lover. But he assured her, finally, that he kept all her letters in a small coffer which can not fall in any human being's hands, and that he has protected the sanctity of her love from uninitiated hands which could take hold of it after his death, by adding a very solemn declaration in his last will. She first knew about the existence of this small coffer in this way; and this was a good enough reason for her to ask very pressingly for the same small coffer.

By the way, that the Marquess knew about the poisons found with her letters, we do not have the smallest clue. Saint Croix used to consider this small coffer in which he also kept his lover's letters, as the archive of his deepest secrets, and has also precisely chosen this same place to hide his murderous weapons. But the Marquess who had no idea that her lover was a professional poison maker, could really not think that the archive containing her secrets, at the same time, was the container of the most abominable poisons.

Regarding this point, people may only compare the information written on the parcels with the one contained in the last will, to be totally convinced that Saint Croix, while he bequeathed the small coffer to the Marquess, wanted not the poison to be included in there. There was information written on every parcel; all the information was, however, written later than the draft of this will. As he, however, bequeathed this small coffer to the Marquess, there could only be letters in it, which was the unique subject of the bequeath. The Marquess has, consequently, not any pretence to the poisons, and while she claimed the small coffer, she was not so much frightened by the horrible discovery which was recently made in the same small coffer.

Among the proofs against the Marquess, there is now nothing more left than this set of papers, which bears the mention “Confession” on it, and which contains the description of the most gruesome acts. This set of papers not only can not be used in the Marquess' trial, but rather it may also not have the least influence in it. Confessions, no matter verbal or in writing, are always an inviolable, sacred secret; and people cannot simply make any use of its content in normal, civil life. Natural and divine laws secure this inviolability of confession. Christ has not called the sinners into confession, so that they run the danger, through the recognition of their sins, to lose honour and life. How would people reconcile such sad consequences with God's mercy? This law of secrecy stretches itself, however, equally to written and verbal confessions, because the principles of discretion which underlie it, state that a confession is a sacrament; and that people are obliged to confession, is valid for the two kinds of confessions.

We cannot prevent ourselves, here, to differentiate between sacred and profane writings; confessions are considered sacred, they stay under the immediate protection of religion. Everything related to confessions, is gathered by Abbot Lenglet Dufresnoy in his essay about the inviolable secrecy of confession. We want, however, to take some examples from these books as proofs that in this matter, the Princes have always used all their powers to secure the decisions of the church which is so important for the citizens' peace and the believers' salvation.

A Catalan who has been condemned to death for a murder, did not simply want to go to confession before his execution and rejected with such stubbornness all exhortations to do so, without giving any reasonable ground, that people started to believe that fear of death has disturbed his mind. Saint Thomas of Villeneuve, Archbishop of Valencia, who found himself precisely at the place where the Catalan was tried, learned about this incident and went immediately to see the unfortunate person to change his mind and save his soul. He was, however, very surprised when he finally learned the delinquent's ground for refusal. The prisoner said to him, namely, that he despised confessions, just because confessions themselves are the cause of his death sentence. No human being in the world knew about the murder for which he now will be executed. However, he felt obliged to recognize fully his misdeed to the priest in a confession, and he did not have any scruple giving precisely this priest all the details and even the place where he has buried the murdered person.

The priest was, as it has been established later on, a brother of the killed person, and in an unfortunate manner, out of revenge, betrayed the secrecy of confession and told everything to the authorities. Any denial was in such case vain; and now, because of his confessions, he must die of a shameful death. The Abbot of Saint Thomas of Villeneuve hold this detail for more important than the whole trial. This trial concerned only the punishment of an individual human being; this episode with the priest, however, was under the authority of religion itself. He allowed the priest to come before him, and after he received from this one the admission of his betrayal, he motivated the judges to retract their judgement and to declare the wrongdoer free. The confessor would be punished; however, his punishment would be softened, because he recognized, repenting, the responsibility of his action.

In the year 1579, an innkeeper in Toulouse killed one of his guests and buried him secretly in his cellar, without anyone in the house remarking anything. Shortly afterwards, he confessed the murder and told to the confessor all the details about what happened. The relatives of the deceased made, in the meantime, all the possible researches and publicly promised, finally, after many fruitless efforts, a great reward to the persons who would give them any information about the missing person. The confessor, attracted by this promise, gave them the secret information that they should only search in the innkeeper's cellar, and will find the corpse of the killed person. People really found the corpse; the innkeeper would be arrested and recognized his act under torture. However, he affirmed steadily that his confessor was the unique person in the world who could have betrayed him. The Parliament of Toulouse recognized with the greatest disapproval the irregular way through which people have brought the criminal under torture, and declared him so far as innocent until people would bring forward other proofs than the ones given by the priest against him. This priest, however, would be sentenced to die on the gallows and to have his body burned. Hence cared this wise tribunal energetically for the security of such an important sacrament.

“Even non-Christian judges in countries where the Christian religion would be tolerated, were convinced of the necessity to keep inviolable a secret confided within the frame of religion, have seen to it that the worldly judge may not make use of such confession, and that the person who desecrates it through betrayal, deserves the sharpest punishment. A young, excellent Turkish man has fell in love with the wife of an Armenian. His intelligence has kept his passion for this beautiful person for a long time in bridle, but it broke out finally into full power. With a bursting flame, he demanded her the fulfillment of his wishes and menaced to kill her and her husband, if she will not hear him. Frightened by this menace which fulfillment she could only all too certainly presage, she found refuge in deceit. She suggested him an encounter in her house at a time where her husband, as she said, would be absent. The lover went to the appointment, armed with his sword and two pistols. Suddenly, the husband appeared, and now, the matter took at once another turn, because the spouses have fortunately evaluated their chance of defeating their enemy. They buried him in their house, and no one knew about the whole incident.

Only that a greedy priest of their religion, to whom they confessed the incident with all the details, was despicable enough to misuse this avowal, that he, with the menace of betraying this unfortunate couple, little by little, deprived them of their whole fortune, and then, as he could not any more extort something from them, finally, betrayed them really to the deceased's father for a considerable amount of money. The Turkish father brought the priest's testimony immediately to the Vizier whose friend he was. This Vizier, equally moved by compassion for the unfortunate couple as by outrage for the shameful priest, called immediately for the Armenian Bishop and asked him what a confession was; how the betrayal of a confession would be punished; and what to do with such people whose crime would be discovered in this manner. The answer of the Bishop was the following:

Confession is an inviolable secret for the Christians; according to their laws, the betrayal of the same will be punished at the stake, and a person accused through betrayal of the confession secrecy is to be freed, because his confession to the priest is a religious duty which nonobservance is punishable with eternal damnation. The Vizier, satisfied with this answer, called immediately for the accused. Trembling and half dead, they threw themselves to his feet and recognized their crime; however, they excused it as a necessity imposed by their honour and accused, at the same time, the priest who misused their avowal, made them into beggars and at the same time, has betrayed them as well. Then, he called for the betraying priest to be brought before him, presented to him the Bishop who, in his presence, once again, gave him the punishment suitable for a confession betrayer and condemned him then to be burned alive, immediately, at a public place.

It is also enlightening to learn that a judge may not use the information obtained through confession, throughout, in a legal trial. What consequences did such use of confession have in the first centuries when confessions would still be openly conducted in front of the whole community? The same judges who were Christians and heard daily such recognitions in front of the community, were constrained to unceasingly apply the sword of Justice for the misdeeds of the confessing person. But the judges did not accept any accusation which was only grounded on the open confession of a repenting sinner.

However, as the moral corruption among the Christians, little by little, broadened; and the enemies of a confessing person misused his public recognition to that end; other proofs had to be investigated upon which the judges could build their accusation; hence, finally, the Church had to change this practice, and used the confessional instead of the public session for confession. Public confession was, hence, annulled only so that no use of it should be made before court.

People must, however, respect equally the written confessions as well as the verbal ones; for in relation to God to whom such confessions are directed, both are truthful confessions. All the theology scholars who have written about this subject, have decided without any limitation that there is not any difference between both. This opinion will be supported by three main grounds. Firstly, a confession must be secured under the seal of discretion, and in that respect, people must also take all the essential dispositions appropriate for a confession, as a draft is already part of a confession, and immediately keep it inviolable; they may not share it with any other human being than a priest who alone is justified to accept a confession. Secondly, precisely because of the same terrible consequences which finally determined the Church to keep the verbal confession under the seal of inviolable discretion, inviolability applies also in the case of the written confession. Indeed, the consequences which people has to fear from the discovery of a written confession, are even more terrible, as knowingly, written proofs are of greater effect than verbal ones.

Thirdly, not the confessor alone is obliged to discretion, but rather also all those who, fortuitously or intentionally, have heard a confession; it is the same with the translators who are used by foreigners for their confession; the translator, in Saint Thomas' opinion, represents so to speak the priest, in so far as the confessions which he brought over to the confessor, was entrusted to him directly.

Now, however, a written confession is in principle nothing else than such a translation (internuntia confessionis, as the theologists say). People entrusted to the written confession the recognition of the sins, in the intention of confiding it later to the confessor. The use of a written confession recommended by a confessor whose trust has been called upon, when he is far away, would be totally annulled by Pope Clement VIII, because such confessions were always linked with many difficulties. But, as long as this practice was valid, everyone was obliged to inviolable silence, while all those who, either through inquisitiveness, fortuitously, or as a person exercising an office, learned something of a confession, have to exercise the strictest discretion.

The accusers of the Marquess were themselves convinced by these irrefutable, enlightening truths, that they have found it necessary to take as excuse for their cause, that the controversial papers are not real confessions, but rather only notes to be used for a confession.

“If we also admit that this statement is really valid; yet, even such a note may also not be used as a legal proof. For, by doing so, the confessing person would also, often, find himself in the namely danger. The Church ordered that such confessing person should recognize all his sins; as his memory is weak, he must help himself by putting, little by little, in writing the content of his confession. A process which the confessor himself very often uses! And should it be used against him afterwards? All the theologists have also decided unanimously that neither spiritual, nor worldly judges may make distinctions in consideration of the content which a sinner recognized, that they should exclude rather more the same papers from the legal acts, and should refrain from hearing an accused about them, or ask proofs about the details contained in them.

Without getting ourselves, here, into a broad enumeration of all the writers who have written over this subject, we invoke only what the famous canonist Dominicus Scoto, Charles the Fifth's confessor, said about it: “A certain man,” he says, “lost a paper on which he has written his crimes. This paper fell into the hands of a spiritual judge who, for that reason, filed a legal investigation against him and wanted to hear witnesses about such crimes. But he would be prevented by his superiors to use this irregular procedure to punish someone, and because of the law,“ adds this writer “which states that confession is such a sacred matter that everything leading to the disclosure of the same confession and has a relation to it, must remain buried in the deepest and inviolable silence.” And what he, here, in consideration of the spiritual judges says, should also be applied, according to his instruction, to the worldly ones.

However, the papers of which we talk about here, in fact, are not mere notes drafted by Lady Brinvillier, for her confession afterwards, but rather it is a true confession, written down in the confidence that it should be made known only to God or his servant. This whole incident with these letters shows that it is a true and real confession. It begins with the words: “I recognize before God and you, my honourable father.” The Marquess speaks, in that respect, only with God and her confessor who replaces God, and consequently, as her confession is meant to God alone, hence, God alone should know about it, and no human being has the right to investigate about her confession. The Church itself must be the Marquess' guarantee for keeping the secrecy of this confession, for “the Church has sacredly promised,” as the Cardinal Perron says, “to secure in its midst the secrets of its repenting children's heart, and to preserve their honour and life, that all their sins should remain faithfully and inviolably kept silent; and no one can do anything against it without, at the same time, trespassing all the divine and human rights.

“It is also neither the anointed person of the priest, nor his sacred office of giving the absolution, which contains the fundamental of this secrecy; it is rather more certain that the priest is also obliged to discretion, even if he should find it necessary to deny absolution to the confessing person, and that this duty also binds, in equal manner, any person who is not a priest and either intentionally, when he sits on a confessing chair to hear the dispositions of another person, or fortuitously, when he finds himself in the proximity of a confessional chair, or in case of necessity when a priest is not available, has taken the place of the confessor. Rather, his indissoluble duty to discretion comes uniquely and solely from the essence of confession itself.

“But people may argue that it is out of question to keep secret such writings of the Marquess; whether it is a confession or not, for people already know, indeed, what it contained. This objection is, however, already lifted up by the above demonstrated grounds. It is proven that not only a trial should never be based upon the same recognition, but rather such recognition may also never be used in an already pending trial as proof; and hence, above all, all this legal procedure, according to the same principle, should be considered null and void.

“Apart from these general grounds which show irrefutably the negligence in all the legal procedures based merely upon information obtained from a confession, one even finds in the confession of the Marquess herself a particular detail which sheds an even more enlightening ray about the uselessness of the same confession. Necessitated to flee from her fatherland where embittered enemies have sworn to bring her on the gallows; wandering around in a foreign country, without any assistance, without any advisor, covered with shame of her revealed love relationships with the most shameful of all human beings to all the world; she would, finally, experience a violent fever which confused her mind and put her in a fantasizing and incoherent condition when the sick person accepts the images of her shaken mind as truths, and very often describes acts which she has never once committed, or in which she did not have the least share. This condition is always the consequence of persecution through unfair images of terror and of presentation of horrible and undeserved punishments to a fearful imagination.

This detail proves not, however, that this writing is not a true confession. The whole content of the same letters is dedicated to God, because the beginning of the letter told us immediately that the whole recognition is put before God. To secure her the protection of inviolable secrecy, it is enough that she had the intention of asking for a general absolution which the confessor can also not refuse to the sick person in a state of incoherence, because such confusions are not to be considered as enduring error, but rather as temporary assaults during which lighter moments can also happen. Indeed, a prayer which a human being directs in such condition to God, is a true prayer and not seldom finds His hearing.

“By the way, people can judge from all these details that Lady Brinvillier, as she wrote in these letters, really had a violent fever which deprived her of the free use of her reason. In the state of torments in which her heated blood put her, she could hardly keep the feather. The letters are so clumsy that people cannot recognize her handwriting; and the words can hardly be read. The acknowledgments contained in these letters are proved false. She accused herself of having killed her father who has died calmly in the year 1666.”

These were the precise grounds with which Mister Nivelle defended the Marquess. But the corpus delicti have been perfectly proven. The Marquess' two brothers have really been poisoned, as proven by the report of a doctor, two nurses and a pharmacist. However, that Saint Croix and the Marquess, through the help of LaChaussée, have completed the two murders, is distinctively made clear by the gathered testimonies; and the Marquess' answers contained an even stronger motive against her. We also communicate here the answers from the affidavit itself:

“As cause of her fleeing from France, she gives a certain embarrassment which she has had with her sister in law. The confession which people found among the papers in her coffer, was written when she was in a totally foreign country, abandoned by all her relatives and constrained to the most extreme necessity, so as to resort to borrowing a Thaler; her mind was so devastated that she did not know what she was doing, or what she was writing. Regarding the first paragraph of her confession in which she has put fire to a house, as well as on the questions about six other paragraphs of the same confession, she always answered bluntly that she has not done any of these acts, and if she has written them, hence, it is only due to the confusion in her mind. On the question whether she has poisoned her father and her two brothers or not, she answered nothing further than not knowing anything about these instances.

On the question whether she intended to poison her sister or not, which was grounded upon her sister expressing an opinion stating she will not live long any more, she answered that this presumption only relied upon the sickly condition with which her sister already then has been tormented, and of which she still suffers now. She says further that she has forgotten the time when she has written her confession, and confessed that she has left France on her relatives' advice. On the question why her relatives has given her this advice, she replied: “Because of the incident with her brothers”. She conceded that she has met again with Saint Croix after his liberation from Bastille. On the question whether Saint Croix has convinced her to kill her father or not, she answered that she can not remember such instance; equally little remembers she that Saint Croix has given her powder and other spices, and that he has said to her, then, that he knew the means to make her rich.

Eight letters would be presented to her, and she would be asked to whom she has written them. She answered that she cannot remember to whom. About the promissory note of 30 000 Pounds which she has established to Saint Croix, she said that she wanted to deposit this sum of money with Saint Croix to have it in case of need, a sum which her debtors knew nothing about. She has, for that reason, obtained from Saint Croix a receipt which, however, has been lost during the trip. Her husband knew nothing about this promissory note. On the question whether she has established this promissory note before or after the death of her brothers, she answered that she can not remember any more, and from her answers the case could not advance in any way.

Afterwards, however, she said that Saint Croix has lent for her the mentioned amount of money to one of his friends, and she has reminded him about it by showing him the relevant promissory note. She confessed that she has been three times at Glazer’s, to have his opinion about her health condition. On the question why she has sought Penautier's advice, she answered that she knew through his friends that he was capable to be expressly used in her businesses. Why did she give him the assurance that she will do everything that he has advised? She does not specifically know why; in her present condition, however, she is necessitated to ask good advice from everyone. Why did she write to Theria that he should free her? She answered that she did not understand what people wanted to know with that question. Why did she say in another letter to Theria that she was lost, if he can not take hold of her coffer? She answered she could not remember this particular detail.

She affirmed that she did not know anything about her father being sick, in the year 1666, during his travel to Offemont neither on the way there, nor on the return trip. As people showed her Saint Croix's small coffer, she said that it did not belong to her, and that she did not want to know to whom it belonged. Only with Penautier she affirmed having had some relationships, only because of the 30 000 Pounds which he was owing her. At another time, she has, together with her husband, lent 10 000 Thalers to Penautier, after which payment she has confessed further not having any relationships with him any more. The small coffer found at Saint Croix”s, she has demanded upon her relatives' advice.”

People needed only to read these answers to see how the truth which she oppressed, will come out even more forcefully. People sees in her the discouragement of a dark soul which is capable of committing the most gruesome acts without trembling, so long as she fears not to be discovered, but loses all prudence at the mere sight of a judge. She decided to deny everything; only that devastation and fear have put in her mouth answers which, against her will, revealed the truth which she strove to cover up with all the forces of her spirit.

If she was really innocent, would she have really only answered that she knows not that she has poisoned her father and her brothers, against an accusation which must have outraged her most inner being? Must not the mere question have provoked in her an answer in which were expressed the highest reluctance against her accuser and even against her judges? But she did not once have enough strength to pull herself back behind a determined “no”, and in her confusion knew nothing more than to protect herself behind the ignorance of some facts. She did not know whether she has killed her father and her brothers or not!?Yet, all her remaining answers carry traces of such knowledge.

The Marquess' personal testimonies, hence, together with the witness testimonies existing against her, were enough to convict her with the clearest evidence. People knew not whether the Parliament has also relied upon proofs from the confession or not; in the meantime, it is enlightening to observe that the trial had enough proofs to do away with this means which, one would like to remind the Marquess' opponents, might not be used either as recognition of a crime, or as a proof in the trial.

Hence, finally, on July 16th, 1676, in a session of the upper chamber and the Parliament criminal chamber, the following judgement would be pronounced against the Marquess:

“Mary Margaret of Aubray, the wife of Marquis of Brinvillier, will be herewith declared convicted and condemned of having poisoned her father, Lord Drogo of Aubray and her two brothers, Lord Anton of Aubray, Attorney and civil Lieutenant in Paris, and Lord Aubray, Member of Parliament, and of intending to kill her deceased sister. She will for that reason be condemned to the well deserved punishment of being brought on a cart barefoot, with a rope around her neck and a two-pound burning candle in the hand, on the gates of a main church of Paris to do repentance for the same crimes to the Church, and to recognize on her knees, publicly, that she has in a shameful manner, out of revenge as well as out of greed, poisoned her father and her two brothers and intended to kill her sister. From there, she should be led onto the public place of execution and to be beheaded on the scaffold erected for her for that purpose; her body will be burned, and the ashes scattered in the air.

Beforehand, however, she should still undergo ordinary and extraordinary torture, in order to know about her accomplices.

At the same time, she will be declared ineligible for her father's, her brothers' and her sister's inheritance from the day of her crimes, and her total fortune should be seized by the authorities, should pay 4 000 Pounds as repentance to the King, 5 000 Pounds to the prison chapel of the Parliament for requiems for the deceased father, her brothers and her sister, 10 000 Pounds damage to Lady Villarceau, the widow of Lord Aubray, and above all, pay all the costs of her trial as well as that of LaChaussée.”

The Marquess who, in the meantime, still hoping to find out a deceit for her judges, has previously denied stubbornly her crimes, confessed them now by herself, after her judgement was already pronounced. Mister Pirot, a doctor from the Sorbonne, to whom she confessed and who accompanied her on the judgement place, gives a very moving tale of the last twenty four hours of her life. She asked to receive the host, but it would be refused to her; it has never been given to criminals condemned to the death sentence. She demanded then only to receive a blessed bread, just like her uncle, Marshall of Marillac, did before his execution. But this would also be refused to her, because the crime of the Marshall, said people to her, by far, was not so abominable as hers; she must repent of her crimes by being deprived not only of the host itself, but even of the symbol of the same host.

The crowd present on her execution day was extraordinary numerous. Not only the execution place, but rather also all the streets through which she would be led, were full of people. The famous painter LeBrun stood at a place where he could observe exactly the scene to draw the expression of fear before a violent death on her face. But he found not what he was looking for. The Marquess observed through a trusted, long exercise with death which she has so often given with her own hands, a hardness which made her insensitive to her own death. She lost so little her presence of mind, that already on the way to the place of execution where she expected a painful death in the most shameful position which a human being can possibly find, she has freed herself totally from anything happening around her, and was completely unafraid of being observed. She threw a fixed look in the eyes of some well born ladies whom curiosity have also led there and said to them really bitterly: “In fact, this is a very beautiful scene for you, my ladies!”

Hence, we also want this execution to be told by Lady Sévigné.

“It is over with Brinvillier,” she says in a letter of July 17th, 1676, the day after the publication of the judgement, “she will ultimately find herself scattered in the air. Her poor, small body would after the beheading be thrown in a great fire and her ashes scattered in the air. We can inhale her now, and who knows with what kind of poisonous moods we will catch from this transfer! Her sentence was pronounced yesterday, people have read it to her today in the morning. People wanted to torture her; she assured, however, that it was not necessary, she wanted to confess everything voluntarily. She has really given an account of her life which is even more frightful than people may ever think, until four o'clock in the morning. She has given poison to her father ten times in a row, before she reached her goal; and ever feigned with him the highest filial tenderness. She demanded still to speak to the General Attorney. He remained one hour with her, people did not know, however, what she had still have to say to him.

“At six o’clock, dressed only with a shirt with a rope around the neck, she would be led to the church of Our Lady to do her repentance to the Church and then be put again on the cart. I saw her at this moment; leaning her back on a pile of straw, in a shirt with a short hood on her head, the spiritual authorities on one side, the judges on the other. All my limbs were trembling at this moment.

Those who have seen the execution, assure that she has ascended on the scaffold with a lot of courage. I, for my part, was with the well-intentioned people on the bridge of Notre Dame. Never have I seen Paris in such a turmoil. If you ask me certainly about what I have seen, hence I must recognize nothing further than the hood. It was a dreadful day. I will hear even more about it today, and so will you tomorrow.

“A couple of words still about Brinvillier”, she says in the following letters. “She has died, as she has lived, with resolution. As people brought her onto the place of execution where she should be tortured, she said by seeing the three buckets of water: I should presumably be drowning, for people cannot expect me to absorb all this. She listened to her sentence without showing any sign of emotion. In the end, she asked the same sentence to be read once again; for she said that since the beginning, the cart was so inappropriate to her that she could not pay attention to what was said. On the way to the execution place, she asked her confessor that she wanted to have the execution judge before her, “so that I”, she added, “do not have to see Corporal Desgrais who has captured me.” Desgrais accompanied the cart on horse. As her confessor showed her this arrangement, she replied: ”Oh God! I ask for your forgiveness! Spare me this strange moment!”

She climbed on the scaffold alone, barefoot. It really took a quarter of an hour for the execution judge to prepare her; hence, the crowd started to be impatient. On the following day, people sought after her remains because they thought that she was a saint. Before her imprisonment, as she confided herself, she had two confessors. “The first one”, she said, “demanded that I must recognize everything, the other one, however, affirmed that I should not do so; and I,” she added with a smile about these contradicting opinions, “hence, can do whatever pleases me.” It was pleasing her not to say a word about her accomplices. Penautier came out even whiter than snow from the whole case. The public was not happy.

“The world is always unfair,” says Lady Sévigné in the following letters, “it was unfair with Brinvillier. Never have people judged a gruesome act so hastily. People have not tortured this criminal; people even made her hope for a grace, and she certainly hoped to come out of the ordeal alive; and yet, on her way to the scaffold, she said: “Now, everything is in order”. In the meantime, her ashes have been dispersed in the air, and her confessor assured that she is a saint.”

The Marquis of Brinvillier would not be embroiled in anything in his wife's trial, and no one knew whatever happened to him after her execution. Madame Sévigné wrote that he has indeed requested grace for his significant other. Presumably, he sought to bury his sorrow in loneliness and to remove from the public memory a name which now was synonymous with the most abominable crime.

The pharmacist Glazer would also be dragged into this trial, because he has delivered to Saint Croix different substances, and it cost him all his efforts not to be accused.

Mister Penautier would be at once interrogated about the letters which Lady Brinvillier has written to him from prison. People knew that he must have had a close relationship with this criminal, and his relationship with Saint Croix was already publicly known. Through the general rumour about Saint Croix's skills in poison preparations, it also came out that a certain Lady Vosser would now be accused of murdering her husband. She conceded that her spouse, Lord Saint-Laurent, general cashier of the clergy, has been poisoned by a servant who was recommended to her by Saint Croix, and affirmed that the poison has been prepared by Saint Croix from a request by Penautier with whom she has already for long agreed to remove her husband from his office forcefully; that Penautier, as Saint Croix's accomplice, has fled from him. She built her accusation mainly on this completely specific interest which Mister Penautier had in killing her husband; through whose death he, at the same time, satisfied his revenge on a hated rival and received one of the most rewarding office. That Saint Croix, however, participated in this poisoning, she sought to prove, above all, from the most narrow relationship which Penautier had with this horrible criminal.

“Saint Croix,” she said, “received from Penautier enough money to maintain servants, waiters, coachmen; in a word, to have a glowing lifestyle. Such expenses, however, people do not easily care to make for another person just out of friendship; another, far more lively interest must be motivating it. What kind of interest could, however, Penautier have in covering Saint Croix with such benevolence, if it were not the rewards for services which he performed for him with his poison making skills? However, it was totally in line with such shameful plots that he demanded his share of the incomes coming from the office which he made vacant for his friend, running the danger of being condemned at the stake.

The close connivance between these two men is, however, generally known; every one knew that the one could not live without the other, that they met together on a daily basis, and that when Saint Croix could not come himself to see him, at least, he would send him his Martin, the confidant of all his perversity. The declaration in his last will in which Saint Croix bequeathed this infamous small coffer to Mrs Brinvillier, is also a proof of the inner relationship between him and Penautier, for this will was addressed to him, it should have been brought over to him.” Finally, Lady Saint Laurent also affirmed that Saint Croix has received from Penautier as a reward for the service which he performed for him, a very considerable sum through a letter of payment; the last one, however, was astute enough to have this letter curtailed by the Inspector who made the inventory.

These were, hence, the grounds from which people would show that Penautier was an accomplice of Saint Croix, and has used his poisoning skills into his advantage. But even if these grounds were enough to put his ambiguous behaviour and his good reputation into suspicion; hence, the judge could not possibly hold them as proofs to sentence him. The Parliament found these proofs insufficient, and freed him. In the meantime, the public condemned him. People affirmed publicly that he could not have avoided the deserved punishment, had he not dispensed a lot of money around.