The Duchesse had not been faithful to her dull husband, treating him, according to Saint-Simon, with something akin to contempt. She had had many lovers, though at least it was conceded that she only took one at a time. Some years earlier she had conducted such a blatant affair with the Comte de Louvigny that she became anxious that her husband’s family would intervene to protect his honour. To calm things down she had retired voluntarily to a convent for a time, but her husband was most upset by her decision to absent herself. Primi Visconti noted, ‘Without his wife the Duke was a body without a soul; he did not bother about the others provided he had his share.’ Much to Bouillon’s relief, she rejoined him after a brief separation.57
The Duchesse was believed to be particularly close to her nephews, the Vendôme brothers. If one may believe Saint-Simon, her youngest son, the Chevalier de Bouillon, once alluded to this in the crudest possible fashion. Saint-Simon related that when in 1690 the Duc de Bouillon upbraided the Chevalier for his debauched ways, the younger man responded coolly that he was surprised the Duc should presume to lecture him in this manner. When the Duc countered that he was exercising the natural authority of a father, the Chevalier guffawed, ‘You my father! You know very well that you’re not and that it’s Monsieur le Grand Prieur [Philippe de Vendôme].’58
The Duchesse’s reputation was so notorious that in 1677 the King was said to have remarked she would be the ideal woman to give his son his sexual initiation. The Comte de Bussy was inclined to dismiss the report, not because the observation was in any way unfair but because it would have been out of character for the King to be so coarse about a woman of her high social standing.59
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It will be recalled that the Duchesse had been called before the commission because Lesage had alleged that, during her visit to him, she had set down a written request for the death of her husband. This would have freed her to marry the Duc de Vendôme (who had accompanied her on that occasion) and Lesage testified that the Duchesse was so eager about this that she subsequently pestered him relentlessly, sending a servant to summon him to her on several occasions. At one point she had offered him a sack of gold if he would help her but Lesage said, highly implausibly, that he had spurned this as he did not want to become entangled in her schemes. According to him, however, others had been less scrupulous. Some weeks after he had made his first allegations against the Duchesse, he stated that she had also been a client of la Bosse and la Vigoreux, and that those two women had been ready to poison the Duc de Bouillon.60
Once it became known that the Duchesse was to be questioned by the commissioners of the Arsenal Chamber there was lively speculation in Paris society as to the causes. An unfounded rumour gained currency that she was suspected of poisoning some servants who had become too knowledgeable about her infidelities. As ever, M. de La Rivière had a snide comment at the ready. ‘I greatly pity Mme de Bouillon if she has poisoned a man to keep her love life secret,’ he wrote waspishly. ‘She has committed a great crime which has availed her nothing.’61
The Duchesse appeared before La Reynie and Bezons on 29 January. She arrived at the Arsenal flanked by her husband and the Duc de Vendôme, who in turn were followed by a cavalcade of more than twenty coaches, packed with friends and relatives. Her supporters had to wait outside while she faced the commissioners, but Mme de Bouillon was not in the least discomfited by the prospect of her solitary interrogation. Having entered the chamber ‘like a little queen’, she at once took off her gloves in order to display her fine hands to best advantage. She then insisted on formally recording that she had come there solely out of respect for the King, rather than in deference to the authority of the Chamber, whose jurisdiction she did not acknowledge extended to the higher ranks of the peerage. Only once she had registered these objections did she deign to answer questions in a ‘laughing and disdainful’ manner.62
The Duchesse was adamant that she had never had any contact with la Vigoreux, but she readily agreed that she had once seen Lesage in the presence of the Duc de Vendôme. She explained that the two of them had written a few frivolous questions on a piece of paper, which Lesage had appeared to burn but, to her amazement, two or three days later the magician had given her note back to her. She had been so intrigued by this that she had asked him to perform the trick a second time. She had then written another note, which Lesage had again reduced to ashes, but this time he never returned it to her, even though she had several times sent a servant to enquire what had become of it. She concluded, ‘She had found the whole thing so ridiculous that she told several people about it and even wrote of it to Monsieur le Duc de Bouillon … who was with the army.’63
When asked whether she had written a request that her husband should die prematurely she indignantly denied it. Mme de Sévigné heard that she expostulated, ‘Me, get rid of him? You have only to ask him if he thinks so. He accompanied me right up to the door.’ When the commissioners had finished their questions she demanded mockingly, ‘Well, Messieurs, is that all you have to say to me?’ On being told that she was free to leave she exclaimed, ‘Truly, I would never have believed that clever men could ask me so many stupid things.’64 She went out to receive a rapturous welcome from the crowd clustered about the door of the Arsenal, all of whom were delighted by her stylish refusal to be intimidated.
Elated by the reception accorded her by her admirers, the Duchesse delighted in recounting how she had routed La Reynie and Bezons. Doubtless she could not resist embroidering the way she had defied them, for the witticisms which were now attributed to her certainly do not feature in the written record of her interrogation. It was said, for example, that La Reynie had asked her if she had ever seen the devil, to which she supposedly fired back, ‘Yes, I have seen him and he looked just like you.’65
The Duc de Bouillon was so proud of his wife that he even asked the King if he could print an account of the interview to be distributed throughout Europe, but the King curtly refused. He had been much displeased by the way the Duchesse had glorified her interview with the commissioners, which threatened to turn the Chamber into an object of ridicule. Furthermore, the King and La Reynie were evidently not convinced that the Duchesse’s airy dismissal of Lesage’s allegations against her meant they were baseless. Serious consideration was given to arranging a tripartite confrontation between her, Lesage and la Voisin, to see if they could make her change her story. In the end, however, the King decided simply to order the Duchesse to leave Paris for an indefinite period. Even this did not subdue her, for she contrived to turn her departure into a triumphal progress. As she set off for Nérac in the Pyrenees, a crowd of family members and well-wishers gathered in the street to give her a rousing send-off.66
The Duchesse was permitted to return to Paris and the court in March 1681. However, as she doubtless realised, the King still disliked her. He tolerated her presence only out of respect for her husband and was relieved that she came to court infrequently. In 1685 the Duchesse exasperated the King once more after she expressed herself indiscreetly when Louis disgraced her son and her brother-in-law, the Cardinal de Bouillon. Once again she was expelled from Paris and this time she was not able to return for five years. In 1690 she was finally allowed to resume her place as ‘a sort of queen’ in Paris society, and presided over a salon graced by numerous poets and artists. Until her sudden death in 1714 she was seen at Versailles only rarely, though she did not stay away out of shyness. Saint-Simon said that when she did visit the palace, one could hear her confident tones from two rooms away.67
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Perhaps calculating that she would achieve celebrity by appearing before the commissioners, the Maréchale de la Ferté volunteered to be questioned by La Reynie and Bezons, even though they had not planned to interview her. There had been speculation in some quarters that la Voisin had performed abortions for the Maréchale, but this was never more than idle gossip.
Despite the fact that the Maréchale was giving evidence of her own volition, ma
ny of her aristocratic circle formed the impression that she was being harassed by the Chambre Ardente, and she was elevated to the status of heroine. In a show of solidarity, numerous friends accompanied her to the Arsenal, ‘all murmuring against the commissioners’. Her husband, too, was at pains to defend her, saying that she had only visited Mme Voisin in hopes of acquiring a winning formula for gambling. Having answered a few inconsequential questions, the Maréchale emerged to great acclaim, ‘delighted at being innocent for once in her life’.68
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The Marquis de Feuquières was another of those required to submit himself for interrogation. To his father he drawled, ‘This business would be terribly disagreeable if one were on one’s own; but … the company I am in diminishes the unpleasantness.’69 On 1 February he appeared before the tribunal and gave laconic answers to the questions put to him. He confirmed that some years earlier he had encountered Lesage at the Marquise de Fontet’s house and that on that occasion he and Luxembourg had written down a few trivial queries. About a week later Lesage had visited Feuquières at his house but Feuquières said he had realised the magician was wasting his time and had sent him packing.
As for la Vigoreux, Feuquières deposed that he had only spoken to her on one occasion when she had come to his door with a young boy who she claimed was a godson of Feuquières’s late mother. She had wanted Feuquières to give him a job but the Marquis had declined, saying the boy was too young. When asked whether he had known Marie Bosse, Feuquières returned an absolute denial. After the interview was over Feuquières professed himself disgusted with the inanity of the questions put to him. ‘If I had said “yes” to every one, there still would not have been enough there to have a lackey whipped,’ he shrugged.70
However, Feuquières was far from being in the clear. He was well aware that La Reynie – whom he referred to as a ‘rabid lunatic’ – was still doing everything possible to construct a case against him. He declared himself at a loss to know why the Police Chief was pursuing him so obsessively, unless it was simply that La Reynie had become ‘enraged at not finding any criminals, for all the hubbub he has made’. On 19 April Feuquières reported that in recent days La Reynie had considered issuing an arrest warrant against him, but in the end he had not dared go through with it. The Marquis added nonchalantly that he did not mind having to wait for the matter to be settled, as Paris was so pleasant in the springtime.71
In the coming weeks Feuquières resisted all attempts to frighten him into fleeing the country, rightly judging this would be the surest way to ruination. His confidence proved justified, for in June he was formally discharged of all imputations. In no way embarrassed by his ordeal, Feuquières took formal leave of the King and Louvois before going to take the waters at Bareges.
Feuquières was incomparable at projecting an aura of injured innocence but it is possible that he had had more extensive dealings with la Vigoreux and Lesage than he admitted. The Marquise de Fontet, who had introduced him to Lesage, testified that Feuquières had once confided to her that he had buried twelve pistoles in a spot designated by Lesage. Lesage had told him that if he did so, the coins would be transformed into something much more valuable. However, when Feuquières had returned to the site, he had found nothing apart from a large hole, and all the money had disappeared.72
Given what we know of Feuquières’s superstitious nature, it is also likely that la Vigoreux had been telling the truth when she claimed that Feuquières had approached her in hopes of acquiring a charm that would prevent him being wounded in battle. Besides this she said that he had wanted her to arrange for him to ‘speak with the spirit’ and this cannot be dismissed in the light of later evidence, which proves beyond doubt he was interested in such things.
In 1696 letters from Feuquières were found addressed to a sorceress who had recently been arrested. A few years later it emerged that he had consulted another divineress called Marie-Anne de la Ville, from whom he had purchased talismans designed to bring luck in gambling and love affairs. He had also been present when she had sought to conjure up ‘Prince Babel’, who Feuquières hoped would guide him to hidden treasures.73 One should not necessarily deduce from this that in the past Feuquières had also tried to poison people, but he clearly had an obsession with the occult, which he sought to keep secret.
While under suspicion in 1680, Feuquières had conducted himself with a disdain and lack of humility that even his father feared was foolishly provocative. When criticised for this, Feuquières denied he had displayed ‘harmful pride’, insisting he had merely acted as a man who, ‘knowing himself to be quite innocent, loftily receives all calumnies and forcefully responds to them’. Once Feuquières had been discharged his father wrote to the King expressing the hope that since it was acknowledged that the accusations levelled against his son had been false, the King would evince no less compassion for the sufferings Feuquières had undergone than if he had been wounded in battle. This was a deluded hope. Feuquières’s aunt was more realistic: on learning that her nephew was in trouble she had commented, ‘Whatever happens, I cannot but fear that this will always have an evil effect on him and his fortunes.’74
Admittedly, despite Saint-Simon’s contention that Feuquières never really recovered from the Affair of the Poisons and that thereafter he ‘remained in some way touched by it’, his military career went quite well for some years after the scandal had died down. When he became an infantry brigadier in 1688 the Marquis de Sourches commented that he was the best choice the King could have made, though he added that Feuquières’s bravery and past services should have carried him higher still.75 The following year Feuquières became a Maréchal de Camp and in 1693 he was promoted to Lieutenant-General. However, despite his undoubted abilities, he never advanced further.
Saint-Simon claimed he was ruined by his overweening jealousy and infernal ambition, for his superiors could not trust a man who was always scheming to supersede them. Certainly by that time he had fallen out with his former protector, Luxembourg. In September 1692 he complained to the Minister for Foreign Affairs that on campaign Luxembourg surrounded himself with a homosexual coterie of ‘little favourites’ who were ‘all in some ways amorous of him’. These men were singled out for praise in despatches, while the exploits of others outside the charmed circle were ignored. When it became clear that Feuquières resented this, Luxembourg had asked the King that he should never again serve with him.76 In this instance it does seem that Feuquières had genuine cause for complaint, but in other ways he was responsible for his misfortunes, for the revelation that he still associated with conjurers and divineresses damaged him in the eyes of the King and contributed to the failure of his career.
Disenchanted by his lack of advancement, in 1701 Feuquières retired from active service. In 1711 (to use Saint-Simon’s words) ‘he ended his life abandoned, abhorred, poor and obscure’. From his deathbed he wrote to the King lamenting that he had obviously displeased him, ‘and though I do not know precisely how, I do not think myself any the less culpable for that. I hope, Sire, that God will forgive me my sins for I sincerely repent them. You are the image of God and I dare implore that you at least forgive my son for those faults of mine which I would have wished to expiate with my blood.’77 Perhaps touched by this plea, the King permitted Feuquières’s son to retain the pensions formerly conferred on his father.
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The Comtesse du Roure was another person whose life was permanently blighted by the Affair of the Poisons, despite the fact that in former years the King had been very fond of her. By 1680 she was a mature woman of thirty-five but she had come to court as a teenager to serve Monsieur’s first wife as a maid of honour. Known at that time as Mlle d’Artigny, she had forged a firm friendship with Louise de La Vallière. When Louise had embarked on her affair with the King, Mlle d’Artigny had sometimes acted as an intermediary between the lovers. However when she had fallen out with another maid of honour called Mlle de Montalais, the latter had sought
to bring about her dismissal after discovering that early in her career Mlle d’Artigny had become pregnant. At the time she had managed to conceal this by retiring from court on some pretext and returning after the birth, but when Mlle de Montalais revealed this to the Duchesse d’Orléans, the latter wanted to expel Mlle d’Artigny from her household. In desperation Mlle d’Artigny appealed to the King to save her. Having gone to him and told him all about her earlier lapse from virtue, she begged him not to let her be sent from court in disgrace. ‘The King was touched by her frankness and ever since then he always treated her very kindly … even though she was a person of very mediocre merit.’ Not only did he prevent her dismissal but in January 1666 he gave her a sizeable dowry when she married the Comte du Roure, son of the King’s Lieutenant-General in Languedoc. In this way, ‘from being poor and crushed by ill fortune, she became a great lady’.78
After her marriage the Comtesse du Roure remained close to Louise de La Vallière. When Louise turned up unbidden at La Fère in July 1667, Mme du Roure accompanied her. The Comtesse du Roure also continued to enjoy cordial relations with the King. In January 1669 he gave her husband the right to succeed his father as Lieutenant-General of Languedoc and took the trouble to convey the good news in person to the Comtesse du Roure.79 Yet none of this sufficed to protect her once la Voisin started making accusations against her.
What makes this more curious is that the allegations were so contradictory and feeble. La Voisin had said that, having discovered the Comtesse du Roure was her client, Lesage had succeeded in luring her away from her. However, before this happened the Comtesse had indicated to la Voisin that she wished to bring about the death of Louise de La Vallière, and she had also revealed that she was on very bad terms with her husband and having an affair with her brother-in-law.
But when Lesage had been questioned about this on 28 October 1679 he had flatly denied that the Comtesse du Roure had ever been a client of his. On that day he merely acknowledged that la Voisin had once told him that Mme du Roure had come to her in hopes that the King could be induced to admire her, though by 7 January 1680 Lesage could recall being told by la Voisin that Mme du Roure had wanted to poison Louise de La Vallière. A week later la Voisin modified her original story. She now agreed that the Comtesse du Roure had never been one of Lesage’s clients. She also confessed she had been mistaken when she stated that the Comtesse had an adulterous relationship with her brother-in-law, having muddled her with the Vicomtesse de Polignac. She still maintained that Mme du Roure had wanted to poison Louise de La Vallière, though they had touched on this only briefly, whereas she had discussed the matter in much more detail with the Vicomtesse de Polignac.80 La Voisin’s evidence with regard to Mme du Roure could thus hardly have been more confused and unsatisfactory. When one further considers that the Comtesse du Roure had always been considered a close friend of Louise de La Vallière, it seems extraordinary that la Voisin’s claims were treated seriously.
The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide, and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV Page 33