Finally, Francoise Roussel deposed that she had been in the service of the marquise, and the lady had one day given her some preserved gooseberries; that she had eaten some on the point of her knife, and at once felt ill.  She also gave her a slice of mutton, rather wet, which she ate, afterwards suffering great pain in the stomach, feeling as though she had been pricked in the heart, and for three years had felt the same, believing herself poisoned.

It was difficult to continue a system of absolute denial in face of proofs like these.  The marquise persisted, all the same, that she was in no way guilty; and Maitre Nivelle, one of the best lawyers of the period, consented to defend her cause.

He combated one charge after another, in a remarkably clever way, owning to the adulterous connection of the marquise with Sainte-Croix, but denying her participation in the murders of the d’Aubrays, father and sons:  these he ascribed entirely to the vengeance desired by Sainte-Croix.  As to the confession, the strongest and, he maintained, the only evidence against Madame de Brinvilliers, he attacked its validity by bringing forward certain similar cases, where the evidence supplied by the accused against themselves had not been admitted by reason of the legal action:  ‘Non auditur perire volens’.  He cited three instances, and as they are themselves interesting, we copy them verbatim from his notes.

Firstcase

Dominicus Soto, a very famous canonist and theologian, confessor to Charles V, present at the first meetings of the Council of Trent under Paul iii, propounds a question about a man who had lost a paper on which he had written down his sins.  It happened that this paper fell into the hands of an ecclesiastical judge, who wished to put in information against the writer on the strength of this document.  Now this judge was justly punished by his superior, because confession is so sacred that even that which is destined to constitute the confession should be wrapped in eternal silence.  In accordance with this precedent, the following judgment, reported in the ‘Traite des Confesseurs’, was given by Roderic Acugno.  A Catalonian, native of Barcelona, who was condemned to death for homicide and owned his guilt, refused to confess when the hour of punishment arrived.  However strongly pressed, he resisted, and so violently, giving no reason, that all were persuaded that his mind was unhinged by the fear of death.  Saint-Thomas of Villeneuve, Archbishop of Valencia, heard of his obstinacy.  Valencia was the place where his sentence was given.  The worthy prelate was so charitable as to try to persuade the criminal to make his confession, so as not to lose his soul as well as his body.  Great was his surprise, when he asked the reason of the refusal, to hear the doomed man declare that he hated confessors, because he had been condemned through the treachery of his own priest, who was the only person who knew about the murder.