The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV (43 page)

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

*   *   *

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

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

*   *   *

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