The Marchioness of Brinvilliers, the poisoner of the seventeenth century. A romance of old Paris

Front matter

ROU PLEDGE'S SIXPENNY NOVELS. RECENT VOLUMES. The Adventures of Mr. Ledbury and his Friend Jack Johnson. By Albert Smith. Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever. The Miser's Daughter. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, Catherine. By W. M. Thackeray. The Scalp Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid. The Story of a Feather. By Douglas Jerrold. Sylvester Sound the Somnambulist. By Henry CuCKTON. Martin Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dickens. Tae Scarlet Letter. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. He would be a Gentleman. By Samuel Lover. Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures. By Douglas Jerrold, BY ALBERT SMITH AUTHOR OF "CHRISTOPHER TADPOLE," "THE POTTLETON LEGACY," "ADVENTURES OF MR. LEDBURY," ETC. (COPYRIGHT.) LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL GLASGOW AND NEW YORK Richard Clay & Sons. MUEAD STREET HILL, LONDON Bungay, Suffolk. TO EDMUND YATES, ESQ. THIS |lomantc is geincateit BY HIS SINCERE FRIEND, ALBERT SMITH.

Preface

When I was in Paris, last autumn, one of the intelligent gentlemen who superintend the new establishment of Messrs. Galignani, in the Rue de Rivoli, told me that the ' Marchioness of Brinvilliers ' was selling ve.y well amongst the tourists, who bought the book, and then started to find out and visit the different localities described in it. I was, to some extent, sorry to hear this, because I felt they must be, more or less, disappointed; not that I had been incorrect in my topo graphy or descriptions, but the alterations lately made in every part of Paris have so entirely changed its appearance, especially in the Quartier Latin, that I should myself have some difficulty in discovering my former haunts — if, indeed, many of them exist — or marking even the sites of the greater part of the incidents mentioned in this romance.

The locks on the Seine, below the Pont Neuf, — the open space in front of the Hotel de Cluny, and the destruction of the Rue des Mathurins St. Jacques, — the demolition about the Place du Chatelet, — the alterations on the Quais, and the handsome thoroughfares cut through the old narrow streets everywhere, have entirely changed the aspect of what remained of the moyen age Paris. A map twenty years old will furnish the best landmarks. LoNEON, January, 1857.

Chapter I. The Mountebank Of The Carrefour Du

GHaTELF.T. One hundred and eighty years ago, on a sunny spring evening, in the year of grace 1665, the space of ground which extended from the front of the Grand Chatelet in Paris to the rude wooden barrier which then formed the only safeguard between the public road and the river, at the northern foot of the Pont au Change, was crowded with a joyous and attentive mass of people, who had collected from their evening promenade to this spot, and now surrounded the temporary platform of an itinerant charlatan, erected in front of the ancient fortress. whole structure away in the winter of *596- The Grand Chatelet stood at the foot of the Pont au Change ; its ground is now occupied by a square and an elegant fountain. The origin of the Chatelet has been lost in antiquity. It had once been a strong fortress ; and its massive round towers still betokened its strength.

Next it was a prison, where the still increasing city rendered its position of little value in guarding the gates ; and afterwards it became the Court of Jurisdiction pertain ing to the Provost of Paris. Part of its structure was now in ruins ; wild foliage grew along the summits of its outer walls, and small buildings had been run up between the buttresses, occupied by re tailers of wine and small merchandise. A dark and noisome passage, which ran through it, was the only thoroughfare from the Pont au Change to the Rue St. Denis, and this was constantly crowded with foot-passengers. The Carrefour du Chatelet was at this period, with the Pont Neuf, the principal resort of the people of Paris ; then, as now, ever addicted to the promenade and out of-door lounging. A singularly varied panorama did the open place present to any one standing at the cross, which was reared in the centre, and gazing around him.

He might have seen a duel taking place between two young gallants on the footpath, in open contest. Swords were then as quickly drawn forth as tempers ; no appointments were made for the seclu sion of the faubourgs beyond the walls which occupied the site of the present boulevards ; and these quarrels often ended fatally, though merely fought for the possession of some courtesan, who, in common with others, blazed forth in her sumptuous trappings on the bridges dur ing the afternoon. But the guards never Let us rest awhile on the steps of the Pont au Change, to become acquainted with the localities ; for little of its ancient appearance now remains. The present resident at Paris, however well versed he might be in the topography of that city, might search in vain for even the vestiges of any part of the principal building, which rose, at the date above spoken of, on the banks of the river Seine.

The Pont au Change still exists, but not as it then appeared. The visitor may call to mind this picturesque structure, with its seven arches crossing to the Marche aux Fleurs, from the corner of the Quai de la Megis serie. In 1660 it was covered with houses, in common with most of the other bridges that spanned the Seine, with the exception of the Pont Neuf. These were now partly in ruins, from the ravages of time and frequent conflagrations. Lower down the river might be seen the vestiges of the Pont Marchand — a wooden bridge, which had been burnt down nearly forty years before, some of whose charred and blackened timbers still obstructed the free course of the river. It had stood on the site of the Pont aux Meuniers — also a wooden bridge — to which six or seven boat-mills were attached ; and these, in consequence of the flooding of the Seine, dragged the buildings that then surrounded the carre sour.

Across the river the minarets of the Palais de Justice rose in sharp outline against the blue sky, glowing in the ruddy tint ; together with the campanile at the corner of the quay, and the blackened towers of Notre Dame, further in the He de la Cite\ round which flocks of birds were wheeling in the clear spring air, who had their dwellings amidst the corbels, spouts, and belfries of the cathedral. There was not an old grey gable or corroded spire which, steeped in the rays of the setting sun, did not blush into light and warmth. And the mild season had drawn all the inhabitants of the houses who were not abroad to their windows, whence they gazed upon the gay crowd below, through pleasant trel lises of climbing vegetation, which crept along the pieces of twine latticing the casements. Humble things, indeed, the plants were, — hops, common beans, wild convolvuli, and the like, spreading from a rude cruche of mould upon the sill; but the beams of the sun came through them cheerfully ; and their shadows danced and trembled on the rude tiled floor as sportively as on the costly inlaid parquets of the richer quarters of the city.

The platform round which the laughing crowd had assembled was formed on a light cart, that had its wheels covered with some coarse drapery. There were two occupants of this stage. One of them was a man who might have numbered some forty years ; but his thin furrowed cheeks and sunken eye would have added another score to his age, in the opinion of a casual observer. He was dressed entirely in faded black serge, made after the fashion of the time, with full arms, and trunks fastened just above the knee. Some bands of vandyked lace were fast ened round his wrists ; and he wore a collar of the same material, whilst his doublet was looped together but a little way down his waist. A skull-cap of black velvet completed his attire. Yet few who looked at him took much notice of his dress : the features of this man absorbed all attention.

His face exactly resembled that of a condor, his cap adding to the likeness by being worn somewhat forward ; from beneath which his long black hair fell perfectly straight down the back of his neck. His brows were scowling : his eyes deep-set and jet black ; but they were bloodshot, and sur rounded by the crimson ridges of the lids. His cheeks were pallid as those of a corpse ; and his general figure, naturally tall, was increased in appearance of height by his attenuated limbs. He took little notice of the crowd, but remained sitting at a small interfered, and the passengers looked on unconcernedly until the struggle was, one way or the other, decided. The beggars were as numerous then as now — perhaps more so ; for the various Cours des Miracles, the " Rookeries" of Paris, if we may be allowed the expression, which abounded all over the city, offered them a ready colony and retreat.

Here, were counterfeiters of every disease to which humanity is liable, dragging them selves along the rude footpath ; there, beggars of more active habits, who swarmed, cap in hand, by the side of the splendid carriages which passed along the quays, to and from the Louvre. The thieves, too, everywhere plied their voca tion ; and the absurd custom of carrying the purse suspended at the girdle favoured their delinquencies ; whence certain of them acquired the title of coupe-bourse, as in England the pickpockets were formerly termed cut-purses. Crowds of soldiers, vendors of street merchandise, and charlatans of every de scription[filled the carresour. Looking to the tableau offered by the public resorts of Paris at the present time, the Champs Elysees, for instance (in 1665 consisting only of fields, literally, in cultivation), it is curious to observe how little the principal features of the assembly have altered from the accounts left us by accurate and care ful delineators of former manners.

But, besides all these, the mere idlers of both sexes were numerous and remark able ; an ever-changing throng of gay habits, glittering accoutrements, and attractive figures and faces. The license of the age, unbounded in its extent, per mitted appointments of every kind to be made without notice. Every kind of dis sipation was openly practised, and there fore the world winked at it, as under such circumstances it always does, even if the place of an illicit assignation or conference (and in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth they were seldom otherwise) were a church, as indeed was most frequently the case. The generally licen tious taste extended to the dress and conversation ; hence, from the crowds of gallants who thronged the carresour, salutations and remarks of strange free dom were constantly addressed to the handsome women who, in the prodigality of their display of dazzling busts and shoulders, invited the satire or compliment ; nay, to such a pitch was that n^gtigi attire carried, that some might be seen walking abroad in loose damask robes, merely confined at the waist by a cord of twisted silk.

The afternoon sunlight fell upon the many turrets and spires, and quivered on the vanes and casements of the fine old table on the carriage, upon which there was a small show of chemical glasses and preparations : leaving nearly all the business of his commerce to his assistant. up making himself heard, and remained silent whilst the crowd launched their sallies, or bandied their satirical jibes from one to the other. This was a merry fellow, plump and well-favoured, in the prime of life. He was habited in a parti-fashioned costume of black and white, his opposite arms and legs being of different colours ; and his doublet quartered in the same style. Round his waist he carried a pointed girdle, to which small hawk-bells were attached ; and he wore the red hood of the moyen dge period, fitting closely to his neck and head, and hanging down at the top. to which a larger bell was fastened.

His face had such a comic expression, that he only had to wink at the crowd to command their laughter. And when to this he added his jests, he threw them into paroxysms of merriment. "One/ One's my masters!" he cried, ' ' the first physician of the universe, and many other places, has come again to confer his blessings on you. He has philtres for those who have not had enough of love, and potions for those who have had too much. He can attach to you a new mistress when she gets coy, or get rid of an old one when she gets troublesome. And if you have two at once, here is an elixir that will kill their jealousies." " Send some to Louis ! " cried one of the bystanders. " Where is the fourth?" continued the speaker. ' ' Ask Dame Perronette, who nursed him!" was the reply from the other side of the carresour.

"Ask Saint-Mars, who locked on his iron mask." " Who will knock and ask at Mazarin's coffin ? " shouted another, with a strength of lungs that insured a hearing. "He ought to know best." The name of Anne of Austria was on the lips of many ; but, with all the license of the time, they dared not give utterance to it. And, besides, as the last speaker finished, a yell broke forth that drowned every other sound; and showed by its force, which partook almost of ferocity, in what manner the memory of the Cardinal was yet held. The instant comparative silence was obtained, a fellow sang from a popular satire upon the late prime minister, "He trick'd the vengeance of the Fronde, — All in the world, and those beyond. A has I d bas le Cardinal ' ! He trick'd the headsman by his death — The devil, by his latest breath !

Who for his perjured soul did call, But found that he had none at all. A roar of laughter followed the speech, and the crowd looked round to see the speaker. But although bold enough to utter the recommendation, he had not the courage to support it. However, the cue had been given to the crowd ; and the applause and laugh of approbation con tinued. A bas I a bas le Cardinal /" The throng chorused the last words with great emphasis, and then in a few minutes were once more tranquil. The charged cloud had got rid of its thunder, and the storm abated. The physician, who was upon the platform, took little notice of the clamour. At its commencement, he glared round upon the assembly for a few seconds, and then once more bent his eyes upon the table before him. His assistant continued, as soon as he could make himself audible, — 1 ' Oki: / masters ! a philtre for your eyes that will make them work upon others at a distance.

Here is one that will infect the spirit of the other with sickness at heart ; here is a second that will instil love also by the glance of the eye that is washed with it." "Give it to La Valliere!" exclaimed another of the citizens. "Or Madame de Montespan," cried a third. "Or, rather to her husband!" was ejaculated in a woman's voice. " Respect his parents," exclaimed a bourgeois, with mock solemnity, who was standing at the foot of the bridge, and pointing to a group of three figures in bronze relief, which adorned a triangular group of houses close to where he was stationed. They were those of Louis XIII., Anne of Austria, and the present King when a child. They were little phialscontaining a small quantity of coloured fluid. The price was small, and they were eagerly bought up by the multitude.

But for every one of the second, they purchased a dozen of the first. "Simon Guillain, the sculptor, was a false workman!" shouted the bystander who had first spoken. "Where is the fourth of the family? Where is the Iron Mask?" The mountebank, who had been en deavouring to talk through the noise, found himself completely out-clamoured by the uproar that now arose. He gave ' ' Art thou sure of its operation ? " asked a looker-on. "Glances of love and malice shoot subtly," replied the fool ; "and my master At its foot was a young girl, half-sitting, half-reclining upon the stone-work which formed its base. She was attired in the costume of the working order of Paris. Her hair, different from that of the higher class of females, who wore it in light bunches of ringlets at the side of the head, was in plain bands, over which a white handkerchief, edged with lace, was care lessly thrown, falling in lappets on each side.

Her eyes and hair were alike dark as night, but her. beautiful face was deadly pale, until she found the gaze of the mob had been called towards her. And then the red blood rushed to her neck and cheeks, as she hastily rose from her seat, and was about to leave the square. "A pretty wench enough," cried the cavalier with the black hair, as he raised himself upon the step of a house to see her. She was still hidden from his com panion. can draw subtle spirits from simple things that shall work upon each other at some distance. But your own spirits, with the aid of this philtre, are more subtle than they." "A proof! a proof!" cried a young man at the extremity of the carresour. "The philtre is not for such as you," cried the mountebank. " You have youth, and a well-favoured aspect ; you have a strong arm, a gay coat, and a trusty rapier.

What would man require more ? " The crowd turned to look at the object of the clown's speech. At the end of the carresour, two young men were gazing, arm-in-arm, upon the assemblage. Both were of the same age ; their existence might have reached to seven or eight and twenty years, and they were attired in the gay military costume of the period ; with rich satin undersleeves, and bright knots or epaulettes upon the right shoulder. One of them, to whom the mountebank had more particularly addressed himself, was of a fair complexion, and wore his own light hair in long flowing curls upon his shoulders. His face was well formed, and singularly intelligent and expressive ; his forehead high and expansive ; and his eyes deep set beneath the arch of the orbit, ever bearing the appearance of fixed regard upon whatever object they were cast.

To the close observer there was a faint line running from the edge of the nostril to the outer angle of the lip, which, coupled with his retreating eye, gave him an ex pression of satire and mistrust. But so varied was the general expression of his face, that it was next to impossible to divine his thoughts for two minutes to gether. The other was dark — his face had less indication of intellect than his companion's, although in general contour equally good looking. Yet did the features bear a somewhat jaded expression, and the colour on his check was rather fevered than healthy. His eyes, too, were sunk, but more from active causes than natural form ation ; and he gazed on the objects that surrounded him with the listless air of an idler. His mind was evidently but little occupied with anything he then saw.

His attire was somewhat richer than his friend's, betokening a superior rank in the army. "A proof! a proof!" cried the gayer of the two, repeating his words. " Where will you have it, then?" asked the mountebank, looking about the square. "Ha! there is as fair a maiden as ever a king's officer might follow, sitting at the cross. Shall she be in love with you?" Again the attention of the crowd was directed by the glance of the mountebank towards a rude iron cross that was set up "I doubt not," answered the other, carelessly; "but I do not care to look. No," he cried loudly to the mountebank, "I have no love to spare her in return, and that might break her heart." The girl started at his voice, and looked towards the spot from whence it proceeded. But she was unable to see him for the intervening people.

"A beryl !" cried the fool, showing a small crystal of a reddish tint to the crowd. " A beryl to tell your fortune, then. Who will read the vision in it ? a young maiden, pure and without guile, can alone do it ; are there none in our good city of Paris?" None stepped forward. The fair-haired cavalier laughed aloud as he cried out — " You seem to have told what is past better than you can predict what is to come. Ho ! sirs, whatsay you to this slur upon the fair fame of your daughters and sisters — will none of them venture?" A murmur was arising from the crowd, when the physician, who had been glancing angrily at the two young officers, suddenly rose up, and shouted with a foreign accent', "If you will have your destinies un folded, there needs no beryl to picture them. Let me look at your hands, and I will tell you all."

"A match!" cried the young soldier. " Now, good people, let us pass, and see what this solemn-visaged doctor knows about us." The two officers advanced towards the platform. As they approached it, the crowd fell back, and then immediately closed after them with eager curiosity. The friends stood now directly beside the waggon. "Your hands," said the physician. They were immediately extended to him. "You aie in the king's service," conin the carresour. tinued he. "Our dresses would tell you that," said the darker of the two. object of her anxiety to get closer to the two officers. " But they would not tell me that you are married," answered the physician. " You have two children — a fair wife — and no friend." Meanwhile, Sainte-Croix, as we may now call him, had again reached the edge of the platform.

The physician bent down and whispered a word cr two in his ear, which, with all his efforts to restrain his self-possession before the mob, evidently startled him. He looked with a scrutiniz ing attention at the face of the other, as if his whole perception was concentrated in that one gaze, and then, with an almost imperceptible nod of recognition, caught his companion by the arm, and dragged him forcibly through the crowd. As the two cavaliers departed, the inter est of the bystanders ceased, and they fell back from the platform. The girl now glided* quickly between them, towards where the officers had been standing. But they were gone ; and, after a vain search amidst the crowd on the carresour, she retired back to where she had been sitting, and covering her face with her hands, was once more unheeded and alone.

"'Tis a lie!" exclaimed the cavalier with the light hair. "It is true," replied the necromancer coldly, directing the gaze of his piercing eye full upon him. "But our destiny, our destiny," said the dark officer, with impatience. "You would care but little to know," returned the other, "if all should turn out as I hear read it. I have said your wife is fair — a score and a half of years have robbed her but little of her beauty ; and 1 have said you have no friend. Now read your own fate." "Come away," said the fair cavalier, trying to drag his friend by the arm from the platform . ' ' We will hear no more — he is an impostor." As the soldier spoke, a hectic patch of colour rose on the pale cheek of the phy sician, and his eye lighted up with a wild brightness. He raised his arm in an attitude of denunciation, and cried with a loud but hollow voice : —

Chapter II. The Boat-mill On The River

' ' You are wrong, young man ; and you shall smart for thus bearding one to whom occult nature is as his alphabet. We have met before — and we shall meet again." " Pshaw ! I know you not," replied the other, heedlessly. " But I know you," continued the physician. "Do you remember an inn at Milan? Do you recollect a small room that opened upon the grape-covered bal cony of the Croce Bianca? Can you call that to mind, Gaudin de Sainte-Croix?" At last the sun went down, and twilight fell upon the towers and pointed roofs of the old chatelet. The loiterers gradually disappeared from the place and bridge. The rough voitures de place, which clat tered incessantly over a pavement so rude and uneven that it became a wonder how they were enabled to progress at all, one by one withdrew from the thoroughfares, carrying a great portion of the general noise with them, not more proceeding from the hoarse voices of the drivers than from the ceaseless cracking of their long whips, which was thus always going on.

The cries of those w ho sold things in the streets were also hushed, as well as the tolling and clanging of the innumerable bells in the steeples of the churches, which until dusk never knew rest, but tried to out-roar each other as noisily as the supporters of the different sects, whose hour of meeting they announced. One or two lanterns were already glimmering from the windows of private houses ; for by this means only were the streets of Paris preserved from utter darkness throughout the night ; and the full moon began to rise slowly behind the turrets of Notre Dame. As the officer heard his name pro nounced, he turned round, and stared with mingled surprise and alarm at the phy sician. The latter beckoned him to return to the platform, and he eagerly obeyed. The crowd collected round them closer than ever, hustling one another in their anxiety to push nearer to the platform, for affairs appeared to be assuming a turn rather more than ordinary.

And so intent were they upon the principal personages of the scene, that they paid no attention to the girl who had been sitting at the cross, and who, upon hearing the name, started from her resting-place, and rushed to the outside of the throng that now closely surrounded the waggon. But the crowd was too dense for her to penetrate ; and she passed along from one portion to the other, vainly endeavouring to force her way through it. Some persons roughly thrust her back ; others bade her desist from pressing against them ; and not a few launched some questionable hints upon the There was little security then in the most public places, and few cared to be about after dusk, except in the immediate company of the horse or foot patrol, save those who only stalked abroad with the night ; so that it was not long before the carresour was nearly deserter!

Two " I have nothing left in this world to care about. I wish to die." Her head drooped, and her voice fal tered as she spoke these words, so that they were almost inaudible ; more so than the deep and weary sigh that followed them. ■ • Die — sweetheart ! " cried the mountebank cheerily, as he turned towards her, and raised her chin with his hand. " Die! — St. Benoit, who rules my fete day, prevent it ! You must not die this half century. Besides, although the doctors can't yet find out poisons in the stomachs of their dead patients, like witches' nails and pins, yet the stones can whisper in Paris all they hear. And what should we get — 1 and my master — for thus serv ing you? " "All that I possess in the world," answered the girl. "Ay — that would come first, without doubt ; and next, a short shrift, a long cord, and a dry fagot, on the Place de Greve.

No, no, sweetheart ; if you had brought as much gold as my mules could drag home, we could not do it." " Then you will not let me have it." "Why, you silly pigeon, 1 have told you so. With that pretty face and those dark eyes, be sure you have much yet in store to live for. Or if you must die, don't make any one your murderer. The Seine is wide and deep enough for all ; and, besides, will cost you nothing." He spoke these words less in a spirit of levity than the wish to cheer the poor applicant by his good-humoured tones. But the girl clasped her hands together, and looked round with a shudder towards the quays. persons alone remained there. One was the assistant to the physician, who had been left in charge of the platform ; and he was now occupied in harnessing two rough mules to the waggon, in which the plat form and apparatus had been stowed away.

The other was the girl whom we have before spoken of, and who had re mained at the cross in almost the same attitude — one of deep sorrow and de spondency. The fool had nearly finished his labours, and was preparing to leave the square, when the young female quitted her rest ing-place, and advanced towards him with a timid and faltering step. Believ ing her to be some wretched wanderer of the carresour, proceeding to her home before the curfew sounded, he took but little notice of her ; and was about to seize the mules by the bridle and lead them onwards, when she placed her hand upon his arm, and implored him to stop. "Now, good mistress, your business," said the assistant ; " for I have little time to spare. A sharp appetite hurries labour more than a sharp overseer ; and my stomach keeps time better than the bell of Notre Dame."