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

by Anne Somerset

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  The Comtesse de Soissons was the grandest individual to be driven from France in January 1680, but she was not alone in thinking that exile was preferable to facing the justice of the Chambre Ardente. The Vicomtesse de Polignac was in the Auvergne when the warrant was issued for her arrest, but a detachment of guards was sent to escort her back to Paris. However, friends of hers sent an express courier to warn her that a prison cell awaited her there and she quit France before the officers of the law arrived. Unable to lay hands on her, the King had to content himself with seizing all the furniture in her Paris house, prompting furious if ineffectual protests from the Vicomte de Polignac, who had not accompanied his wife abroad.41

  Despite the fact that on 18 July 1680 Mme de Polignac was officially declared contumacious, she seems to have taken the view that the fuss would die down in due course and that, after a discreet interval had elapsed, she would be able to slip back into the country. However, when in March 1686 she reappeared in Paris, intent on arranging a marriage between her eldest son and the Dauphine’s maid of honour, Mlle de Rambures, she discovered that the King’s indignation against her was undiminished. Louis sent word that he was astonished she dare show herself in Paris and he also did his best to dissuade Mlle de Rambures from proceeding with the marriage. When someone ‘took the liberty of representing to him that he was causing severe mortification to a man of rank [the Vicomtesse de Polignac’s son] who had never done anything to displease him’, the King answered coldly that ‘his aversion was directed not at Monsieur de Polignac, but rather at Madame his mother’. In the end Mlle de Rambures refused to abandon a match which, whatever its disadvantages, was undeniably prestigious and the King gave his consent. The Comte de Bussy commented that he was not surprised the King remained so hostile towards Mme de Polignac, for ‘His Majesty has reason to fear the dealings of a woman who wanted to give him a philtre to make him fall in love’.42 Because of his intransigence, the Vicomtesse could never return to Paris until after the King’s death.

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  On learning of the warrant for his arrest the Marquis de Cessac had also opted to avoid imprisonment and trial by fleeing France. M. de La Rivière jeered, ‘By adding to his bad reputation as a gamester that of a poisoner he has strongly indicated his contempt for worldly esteem.’ However, Cessac’s decision to abscond was not universally condemned, for an influential body of opinion considered it commendable that he had opted against being dragged to prison as a public spectacle. Cessac headed for England, where he had already lived for a time during his first disgrace. The English ambassador to France sent his superiors fore-warning of his arrival, explaining that Cessac was supposed to have consulted a sorcerer in hopes of beating the Kings of France and England at cards. Clearly amused that such absurdities were taken seriously by the French, the ambassador commented jocularly, ‘I am sure that our master will easily forgive him, for the devil has never been able to make him play for high sums either with [Cessac] or anyone else.’43

  Cessac was based in England for some years. In 1685 it was rumoured at the French court that he was planning to marry Mlle de Gramont on the understanding that her family would effect his return. Unfortunately, when the possibility was mentioned to the King he growled that nobody had consulted him about it, and in the end the match did not go ahead. Inexplicably, however, Louis proved more accommodating six years later. Presumably, by that time the King had decided that the accusation that Cessac had tried to murder his brother using witchcraft had been baseless, for by April 1691 Cessac had been authorised to return to France and to rejoin the army. Later in the month he came to court and was permitted to make his bow to the King. The following September proceedings were inaugurated to purge him of the stain of contumacity that still attached to him in consequence of his earlier evasion of justice. Matters were not finally resolved until nearly a year later, but after Cessac had presented himself voluntarily at the Bastille on 28 July 1692 a special hearing discharged him of his contempt and a week later he was freed.44

  Cessac, who ‘accounted scorn and insults as nothing’, imperturbably resumed his life in Paris. Despite being a known cheat, he had no trouble attracting dedicated gamblers to his house to play for high stakes. Cessac’s willingness to hazard huge sums soon caught the attention of Monsieur, whose passion for gambling overrode all other considerations. Keen to try his luck against a man who would not place limits on his bets, Monsieur sought the King’s permission to invite Cessac to his house at Saint-Cloud. Louis agreed and soon the Dauphin also asked his father to let him entertain Cessac at his country house. In this way gambling, which had earlier brought Cessac into such disrepute, served to procure his rehabilitation. In June 1696 the King himself asked Cessac to stay at Marly, the exquisite retreat he had built near Versailles. He invited him because Monsieur was coming to visit and Louis wanted keen card players to be on hand for his brother’s amusement. Soon Cessac became a regular guest at the King’s house parties, an honour to which all courtiers ardently aspired, but which was only extended to an envied few.45

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  Flight had been the course favoured by several prominent figures facing arrest by the Chambre Ardente, but the Maréchal de Luxembourg proved less pusillanimous. For some months prior to January 1680 it had been rumoured that Luxembourg had links with prisoners detained at Vincennes. Luxembourg was vulnerable not merely on account of his 1676 encounter with Lesage at the house of the Marquise de Fontet, but also because his man of business, Pierre Bonnard, had had extensive dealings with the magician. The reason for this was that some years before, Luxembourg had sold a sizeable area of woodland for an inflated sum to a consortium of businessmen. The deal had been brokered by a middleman named Dupin, but when the purchasers realised they had been overcharged they sought to renege on their agreement. Anxious to complete the transaction, Luxembourg needed to repossess documents currently held by Dupin, which established that the lands had been overvalued. Luxembourg’s secretary Bonnard had undertaken to obtain the documents for him, but securing them proved more difficult than anticipated. Consequently, Bonnard had enlisted the help of Lesage, who promised that he would procure the documents by magical means.

  With Bonnard’s enthusiastic concurrence Lesage had performed spells designed to enable Bonnard to acquire the documents. Lesage had also commissioned the priest Davot to pass notes under the chalice during mass, requesting the return of the papers. Lesage then informed Bonnard that if he wished to succeed, he must obtain a signed paper from Luxembourg, giving him Power of Attorney to proceed on the Maréchal’s behalf. Bonnard duly presented such a paper to his master and Luxembourg signed it, having first asked his legal adviser to verify that it contained nothing untoward. However, when Bonnard showed the deed to Lesage, the latter prevailed on him to add a clause empowering him to perform ‘all necessary conjurations’ to achieve the desired ends and mentioning a ‘donation to the spirit’.46 Lesage then took the paper to the lawyer acting for the businessmen who had purchased Luxembourg’s woods, calculating that they would pay him well if he provided them with a document that compromised the Maréchal. However, before he could profit from his action, Lesage was arrested in March 1679.

  Shortly after this the lawyer who had been given the paper bearing Luxembourg’s signature contacted Luxembourg and suggested the Maréchal should sell his woodlands for a lesser sum than that originally agreed. As Luxembourg later recalled, the lawyer explained that in this way Luxembourg ‘would hide … a thing that would cause me harm in the world’, namely ‘that my man of business was making pacts with the devil in my name’. Fearful that he had been compromised by Bonnard’s indiscreet behaviour, Luxembourg went to Louvois and suggested that Bonnard should be arrested and questioned by the commissioners of the Chambre Ardente. Louvois rejected the idea, saying that the Chamber was only concerned with cases of poisoning, ‘and that if Bonnard had done something idiotic’, Luxembourg had merely to dismiss him.47 Accordingly, Luxembourg tol
d Bonnard that he never wanted to see him again and he then met with Duparc, the lawyer who was acting for the purchasers of his land. An agreement was thrashed out between them regarding the sale of his woods but, foolishly, Luxembourg neglected to retrieve from the lawyer the signed paper that Bonnard had drawn up in his name. This later found its way into the hands of La Reynie and formed an important part of the evidence against Luxembourg.

  As Luxembourg himself subsequently noted, ‘For some months I remained calm about this business without worrying very much about the absurd rumours that were beginning to circulate.’ However, at the beginning of January 1680 he was suddenly summoned by Louvois and told ‘that I was being talked of at the Arsenal Chamber instituted against poisoners’. Luxembourg was not unduly shaken by the news. ‘This surprised me without alarming me,’ he recorded, for he was unaware, of course, that Louvois had been inciting Lesage to damage him as much as possible. Clearly irritated by this composure, Louvois did his best to convince Luxembourg that his position was untenable, maintaining that it looked to him as if Luxembourg would be wise to leave the country. Luxembourg sensibly declined to adopt a course that would have ruined him for ever, replying with dignity, ‘Far from going away, if I was accused I would think myself obliged to come back from the ends of the earth to justify myself.’48

  The next day Luxembourg obtained an audience with the King in hopes of clarifying the situation. The King explained that Lesage had been making serious accusations against him and that, among other things, he had claimed that Luxembourg had sought to use magic to murder his wife and kill the Maréchal de Créqui. Having protested that ‘there was not a word of truth’ in this, Luxembourg formed the impression that the King was satisfied by his assurances, for Louis declared that, provided Luxembourg had not put his signature to anything discreditable, there was nothing to worry about. By the time he took his leave, Luxembourg felt that he had cleared up all misunder-standings and he was still more reassured when the King followed up the interview by making him a surprise gift of a magnificent sword with a jewel-encrusted hilt.49 He was not the first person to be given a false impression by the King adopting a misleadingly gracious demeanour.

  It therefore came as a ghastly shock to Luxembourg when, early in the morning of 24 January, his friend the Duc de Noailles was sent to inform him that a warrant had been issued for his arrest. Noailles urged him to flee but Luxembourg would not hear of it, even though Noailles returned several times during the day to repeat his advice. All that Luxembourg asked was that he should be allowed to go to the Bastille on his own, instead of being escorted there under guard like a common criminal. This was granted to him and at five in the evening he set off on his melancholy journey through Paris. Though he had succeeded in preserving some shreds of dignity, it was clear that he was utterly crushed by the calamity that had befallen him. En route to the Bastille he stopped off at the Jesuits’ church to pray, but Mme de Sévigné heard that he was so unused to practising his devotions that he appeared uncertain as to which saint he should appeal in his hour of crisis. Sombrely he lamented that ‘having abandoned God, God had abandoned him’ and went on his way. When nearly at the Bastille he encountered Mme de Montespan coming from the other direction in her coach and Luxembourg wept openly when she alighted to commiserate with him on his ordeal.50 She would no doubt have shed tears too, had she known that within a few months she herself would become the object of horrendous allegations.

  The Governor of the Bastille, who had not been forewarned of the arrival of this illustrious prisoner, was amazed when Luxembourg presented himself before him. The startled official put the Maréchal in one of the most comfortable rooms he had at his disposal but the following day, on the orders of La Reynie, Luxembourg was moved to a cramped cell in one of the towers. No more than six and a half feet long, it overlooked the rubbish-filled moat and was consequently damp and smelly. Luxembourg would later claim that his health had been permanently undermined by being confined in these insalubrious conditions for more than three months.

  On 26 January La Reynie and Bezons came to question the Maréchal, but for the moment their primary aim was to see whether Luxembourg would accept that the Arsenal Chamber had jurisdiction over him, rather than to subject him to a detailed interrogation. Having established that to their satisfaction, they left Luxembourg alone for some weeks while they concentrated on building up a case against him.

  While Luxembourg festered in his malodorous cell, rumours swirled around Paris regarding his crimes. Fictitious versions of his supposed pact with the devil were widely circulated, some of which were more imaginative than others. One opened with the somewhat prosaic request that the devil should preserve Luxembourg from being robbed by his servants, as well as protecting him from cannon and musket fire, and providing him with a ring, which rendered its owner invisible. In addition, Luxembourg craved the ability to read and write all languages fluently, ‘the appearance of a good Christian in order to avoid scandal’ and the secret of universal medicine. In another purported pact Luxembourg voiced more sinister demands. As well as desiring to be as invulnerable as Achilles on the battlefield, to be wealthy and loved by the King, he asked for knowledge of ‘the secrets of la Brinvilliers’. In return, Luxembourg promised to attend ‘all the nocturnal assemblies of familiar spirits … in the realm, and to take orders there from the infernal powers’.51

  Many people were sure it was Luxembourg who had secured Lesage’s release from the galleys, and there was also talk that he had embezzled funds destined for the troops under his command and had then poisoned an official who had known of the fraud. Luxembourg’s supporters were alarmed to learn that La Reynie was ‘making an elephant out of a mouse’ by seeking to establish that Luxembourg had been involved in a counterfeiting racket. Before long the most fantastic claims gained credence. His cousin heard to his dismay that people were saying that Luxembourg and twelve nude women had participated in a procession led by a priest who was naked save for his sacerdotal stole, and that this had been merely one of many ‘orgies or sacrifices made to the devil’.52

  The most outrageous stories were also spread about Luxembourg’s sister-in-law, the Princesse de Tingry. She was a former nun who, years before, had ‘exchanged her veil for a tabouret’. After learning that she had grown discontented with the religious life, Luxembourg had made her promise that she would not impede his marriage to her immensely wealthy sister and had then arranged for her to leave her convent to take up a prestigious position at court.53 The Princesse was still in theory bound by her vows of chastity, but this had not prevented whispers that she had sexual relations with her brother-in-law. Lesage had also alleged that she had been a client of la Filastre and, since she stood to benefit from the projected sale of the woodlands, she was suspected of being involved in Luxembourg’s criminal activities connected with that.

  On 29 January 1680 the Princesse was questioned by La Reynie and Bezons at the Arsenal and her uncertain performance, coupled with the fact that she left the Chamber in tears, merely encouraged the most frightful smears against her. It was put about that Luxembourg had impregnated her three times and that on each occasion Mme Voisin had aborted the infant. Some held that the remains had been burnt in the stove in la Voisin’s consulting room, while others maintained that the bodies had been dried and powdered for use in spells. Only the Marquis de La Rivière defended the Princesse on the grounds that she was so plain that she could not possibly have had a lover. ‘I would never have suspected the Princesse de Tingry of gallantry,’ he tittered. ‘For me her face had guaranteed her reputation.’ He added, ‘If I had a mistress like her I would never have feared anyone other than blind men for my rivals.’54

  As Luxembourg fretfully awaited trial in the Bastille, his wife and mother materialised in Paris. Intent on showing that, despite the fact that her husband was supposed to have contemplated murdering her, he had not forfeited her loyalty, the Duchesse de Luxembourg threw herself at the King’s feet, imploring
permission to visit her husband in prison. Whether Luxembourg would have derived much solace from her company is a debatable point, but the King declined to grant her wish, saying she must wait patiently for all to be resolved. As the weeks went by without any alleviation in Luxembourg’s position, there were reports that he had become hopelessly demoralised and many people took the view that he would have been wiser to follow the Comtesse de Soissons’s example by fleeing the country, rather than risk facing trial.55

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  Meanwhile, those court figures who had received summonses had presented themselves at the Arsenal to undergo questioning. The most prominent of these was the Comtesse de Soissons’s sister, the Duchesse de Bouillon. Born in 1649, she was the youngest of Cardinal Mazarin’s five nieces and the fact that she was of Italian origin made it easier for the French to suspect that she had been ready to use poison.

  The Duchesse de Bouillon was described by one observer as ‘not beautiful but singularly seductive’. Instead of sharing her sister’s brunette colouring and elongated facial features, she had a retroussé nose and tiny hands and feet of which she was very proud. In April 1662 she had married the immensely wealthy Godefroy, Duc de Bouillon, ‘at that time without question the best match in all France’. He was the nephew of the King’s great general, Turenne, and though he had none of his uncle’s distinction or talent, the King recognised that he was a loyal subject and an honourable man, and valued him accordingly. Since 1658 the Duke had held the court office of Great Chamberlain, the second most important position in the royal household. His status had recently been enhanced still further for, by the Treaty of Nymwegen, he had been recognised not merely as a prince, but as independent sovereign of the principality of Bouillon.56