Poison at the Borgia court – part 2

Poisoning might be a sure and fast way of getting money, but it also allows Pope Alexander VI many political manoeuvres, such as getting rid of a dangerous hostage, like Djem, brother to the Sultan.

Djem, son of Mahomet II and former governor of Karamania, was captured by the Knights of Rhodes, who gave him to the Holy Father.  The Pope kept him hostage, in guarantee of the Sultan’s neutrality.

Djem, half-free and half-prisoner, leads an agreeable life in Rome, punctuated by feasts and pleasures in all of the city’s palaces.  One day, he even rides on horseback, wearing a turban and dressed in a tunic, at the head of a solemn procession, on its way to Saint-Jean of Latran.

This must have been a curious sight.  A religious procession led by Sultan Djem and the Supreme Commander of the Armies, Caesar Borgia, piously followed by the entire Vatican court, including Alexander VI.

Once at the church, Djem alights from his horse and penetrates the temple with the procession.  The people of Rome, although accustomed to mad extravangances, are highly indignant about such a profanation.  However, they quieten down fairly quickly, in fear of Caesar Borgia’s henchmen.

Meanwhile, the unlucky Djem – like a precious object to be exchanged – is given by the Pope to Charles VIII, some time later.  Charles hopes to use Djem to influence Turkey.

Upon the entrance of the French king into Capua, Djem comes down with a headache and a sore throat.  Over the following days, he feels violent pains in his chest.  Incapable of remaining on his horse, he is carried on a litter to Naples.  The doctors, unable to do anything for this mysterious illness, cannot heal him.

In such a strained political context between France and the Vatican – Charles VIII has pretensions on Naples and has launched his “expedition” on Italy – Djem’s death is immediately perceived as a poisoning organized by the Pope.  In any case, public opinion believes it to be a crime.

But, if Djem really was poisoned by Alexander VI, why did he do it?  This is where the political machiavellianism, which flourished just as well at the Vatican court as at the Sublime Porte, made an appearance.

Charles VIII, continuing his triumphal march towards Italy, becomes a dangerous enemy for the mediterranean nations.  Once in possession of Djem, why wouldn’t he try to put him on the Turkish throne?

The Pope shares his apprehensions with the Sultan, and asks for the support of his army.  Bajazet II agrees to help the Pope and, to remove the idea of using Djem from Charles VIII’s head, he advises Alexander to get rid of the prisoner. 

“For the repose and honour of the Holy Father and his own tranquillity, it was good to make Djem die, who is after all mortal and prisoner of His Holiness, and the sooner the better and in whatever way which would please His Holiness:  Djem would thereby leave the worries of this life and his soul would pass from this world into a happier world.”

At first glance, this crime does not appear to be profitable for the Pope.  Djem dead, he loses the annual income of 400,000 ducats that Bajazet II has to pay him.  But, in his letters addressed to the Pope, the Sultan offers him 300,000 ducats to have Djem assassinated.

No trace of such a money transfer exists, but the fact that the Pope tried to negotiate the sale of Djem’s body is troubling, and might confirm the poisoning thesis.  Djem’s death – bronchitis transformed into pneumonia, or poisoned food – marks the beginning of the Borgias’ relationship with poison, in people’s minds.

Supreme arbiter of the old rivalries between the Orsinis and the Colonnas, the Pope gets them to agree with each other, by attacking them alternatively.

Cardinal Giambattista Orsini conspired with other lords to debarrass Italy, not of the Holy Father, but of his son.  Very active, these lords tried to mount an army of seven hundred armed men and nine thousand foot soldiers.  They also undertook negotiations with Florence and Venice to get these two cities to oppose Caesar Borgia.

The Pope hears of the plot but remains affable toward Orsini.  He invites him to the end-of-year entertainments.

Reassured about his fate, the Cardinal goes to pay homage to the Pope, a few days later.  He is arrested and locked up in the Saint-Ange Castle.  Forseeing his destiny, he patiently awaits his death, but Alexander does not order it immediately.

It is a good occasion to fill his treasury, for the prelate is rich.  The Pope therefore has all of the riches contained in the Orsini Palace seized.  The family and the domestics are thrown out into the street, with no protection, no-one wanting to take the risk of lodging them.

To take care of her son’s food, Orsini’s mother offers  a large sum of money and a pearl to Alexander.  This is personally carried to the Pope by the Cardinal’s mistress, disguised as a man.  Faithful to his word, the Pope gives the prisoner’s mother free access to him, but several days later, on 22 February 1503, the Cardinal dies.

Third part, including more on the Cardinal’s death, tomorrow.

Poison at the Borgia court

Never, since the fall of the Roman Empire, which collapsed heavily onto the ruins of paganism, has the Eternal City been more troubled, nor more bloodied, than at the arrival of Pope Alexander VI, whose election caused unbelievable disorders.

Once installed on the throne of Saint Peter, he did not try to deliver Italy from this bloody folly.  Quite the contrary.  He favorised the tumult, thanks to which he won his fortune and increased his tyrannical authority.

In Rome, crimes succeeded crimes.  Not only traditional vengeances, Corsican vendettas, Capulets against Montaigus, family against family, but more often murders dictated by cowardly cupidity, and by ambition which was never satisfied.

The son kills his father to inherit straight away.  The Pope gets rid of the Roman cardinals, because he is their only heir, and he is tormented by pressing money needs.

Cardinal Ferdinand, not having been able to stop the marriage of his brother, Francesco de Medicis, with the adventuress Bianca Capello, poisons both of them during a hunting dinner, at Poggio.  A famous crime which tragically ends this extraordinary love story.

Bianca, a Florentine patrician, seduced by the clerk Buonaventuri, manages, through ruse and flirtation, to gain the love of Duke Francesco.  The Duke immediately flaunts his scandalous liaison, in spite of the presence of the legitimate Duchess, Joanna of Austria.

Proclaimed reigning mistress, Bianca Capello simulates pregnancy, buys a baby boy, and passes him off as her son.  Not wanting to be denounced, she has all of the participants in the substitution executed.

She is at the height of her power when she becomes, on the death of Joanna of Austria, the legitimate spouse of Francesco de Medicis and, at the same time, Grand Duchess of Toscany.  She dies a few hours after her husband, from Cardinal Ferdinand’s mysterious poison.

A common and banal adventure in this Renaissance, made of great highs and deep lows.

Under the reign of Pope Borgia, assassinations multiplied, unpunished.  Burckard reports that, in the course of one night, a fisherman saw more than one hundred bodies thrown into the Tiber, without anybody seeming to be bothered by it.

The most illustrious princes did not escape the carnage.  Caesar Borgia, the son of Alexander VI, crowned his numerous forfaits by fratricide.  He had the throat of his elder brother, the Duke of Gandia, slit for the unique reason that he wanted to exchange his cardinal’s robes, which condemned him to inaction, for the gonfalon armour, which would give him supreme commandment of the armies.

Caesar Borgia preferred the dagger to poison.

Caesar Borgia hardly ever uses poison.  Absolute master of everyone, he kills openly and cynically, with no recourse to this hypocritical subterfuge.  He even goes so far as to stab a young Spanish chamberlain, Pedro Calves, known as Perotto, in the arms of the Holy Father.

The Pope tries to protect him as best he can with his cloak, but the sword thrusts are skilful, and find their mark.  “The blood sprays the Pope’s face,” says Capello, Venitian Ambassador, and witness of the scene.

Perotto is not badly injured but, six days later, his body will be found in the Tiber.  He had made the mistake of getting Caesar Borgia’s sister pregnant, while Caesar was in the process of preparing for her marriage.

Another time, Caesar tries to assassinate his brother-in-law, the Duke of Aragon, Lucretia’s husband.  The same man whom he had, himself, chosen for her husband.

Alphonse of Aragon is attacked at the door of Saint Peter’s.  His attackers, believing him dead, abandon him.  Only wounded, by several dagger thrusts, he is then recuperated by his servants and taken back to his wife.

Lucretia and her sister-in-law nurse him devotedly, preparing his food themselves, afraid that Caesar might try to poison him.  However, one morning, deciding to finish the job, Caesar enters the sickroom.  With one gesture he chases away the women, and says cynically into the sick man’s ear:  “What is not done at breakfast, will be done at supper.”  Then he calls in Michelotto Corella, who throws himself on the bed and strangles the Duke, in Caesar’s presence.

The Pope is not much better than his son.  To extend his domination over the whole peninsula, and fill the coffers of his treasury, always empty, he hesitates before no expedient.  As the natural heir to the cardinals, the Pope lets them steal, pillage, and sell indulgences, favours and positions, up until the day when, sufficiently rich, poison prematurely opens their succession and allows the Pope to become rich.

On a daily basis, the Pope is content with little.  The upkeep of his palace only costs him 700 ducats per month, and his daily menus are composed of only one dish.  Luxury and splendour only appear when Alexander VI invites princes and ambassadors, and his reputation as a generous host is well-known.

Second part tomorrow.

(This is the second time that I have typed this.  As soon as I upload the photo, I lose the spacing in between paragraphs.  I apologise for the inconvenience.)

Artistic interlude

Today, I have decided to take a day off from the translating of public domain manuscripts, and share with you a couple of Winter-inspired dabblings.

Yes, yes.  I know that it is not yet officially Winter down here in the Southern Hemisphere, but it’s cold, and it feels like Winter.  Minus 1 or 2 degrees Centigrade last night.  Maximum 13 degrees today.  I’m trying not to use the heater, so as to save energy.  Global warming.  Brrr.

Three pairs of socks, sheepskin boots, mittens (I can’t type with gloves) and numerous layers of cotton, silk and wool on the other parts of my body.  Another ten days until “official”, Government-guaranteed Winter sets in.  I am determined not to light the natural gas heater until then.

But I digress.  I was about to inflict a few pieces of my artistic dabblings on you.  Poetry and painting.

I agree.  Nothing will be spared you.  However, you will be relieved to know that the poem is very short.  That’s the good news.  The bad news is that it will be served up to you twice.  Once in its original French, and once in its English version.  The latter was published in a poetry magazine in the USA.  I can’t remember when, and I can’t be bothered looking for the magazine to find out.

The Western World has decreed that the Japanese-style haiku must be written in three lines and seventeen syllables.  The seventeen syllables are to be distributed as follows:  five in the first line;  seven in the second line;  five in the third line.  No such rules exist in Japan.  A haiku is just a short poem.

When I wrote this poem, in French, it was not intended to be a haiku and, by Western standards, it isn’t.  It was only written because another poet had set up a sculpted leafless tree at an art exhibition, and left paper leaves in a pile, inviting people to write a poem and stick it on the tree.

I was presiding over the exhibition, which did not have a lot of visitors that afternoon, and decided to contribute my two cents’ (sorry, euros’) worth to his initiative.  He liked it.  I don’t know what he did with it after the exhibition.

The English version is an orthodox, Western haiku of seventeen syllables.  Possibly more by luck, than actual intent.  I can’t really remember how I arrived at that result, and I don’t suppose that it really matters.

I find it fascinating that two completely different moods are created, by saying exactly the same thing, in two different languages.  You may not share my fascination.  I realize that.  But right now, at this particular moment, I don’t really care.

Snow Scene with Mist

Nu, sous son manteau blanc,

L’arbre engourdi attend

Le doux baiser du printemps.

 

 

Nude and numb under

Its white coat, the tree awaits

Spring’s warm, gentle kiss.

 

The photo is lousy.  I agree.  I haven’t learnt to use the camera properly.  I do not have a memory card and it only has a memory of three photos.  Practically useless for someone like me.  And yes, I’m sure that it’s the camera.  Not I, myself, or even me.

The painting itself is more of bushes than trees.  Not to mention the fact that the poem is about one tree, not several.  Or a lot.  Or anything over one, in fact.  However, the only other snow painting which I can remember having done (since the one which surprised my primary school teacher, a long time ago) was inflicted on an extended family member for his sixtieth birthday.  I was NOT invited to his sixty-first.

His painting is of real trees.  In snow.  With no leaves.  Covered in snow.  And is unframed.  Still.  However, it IS on a wall in his home.  It was probably too big to just leave lying around.

Tomorow, I shall get back to the Historical stuff.  I’ve decided on poison.  At the court of the Borgias.  We’ll be bumping off a lot of people.  Can’t wait!

Animals brought to trial – part 10

A certain number of executions for bestiality took place in the duchies of Lorraine, Bassigny and Barrois.  One day, at Hattonchatel, a man from Aviller was burnt at the stake with five animals.  The whole was reduced to ashes, which were thrown to the wind.  At Pont-a-Mousson, in 1490, another individual, from Bruyeres, was burnt with three cows.

Sometimes, as we have said, the animals were strangled before being placed on the pyre.  The Court ordered this for two mares, in 1705.  Without this precaution, there was a great chance of the pyre being disturbed by their desperate movements.

One thing, extremely difficult to believe, is that natural intercourse of both sexes with “infidels”, such as Turks and Jews, were put into the category of acts of bestiality, because religion considered them to be animals.  Not by their nature, but because of their beliefs.

At the beginning of the XXth Century, similar crimes were still being prosecuted in France, if they had been committed in a public place.  They then entered into the category of public indecency, cited in Article 330 of the Penal Code.  Judicial publications related a few isolated cases, from time to time.

The result of this study is that the Middle Ages did not have the monopoly on such spectacles.  We have seen that they were prolonged into the XVIIIth Century, up to and including the French Revolution, and even beyond.

A pig covered with fleurs-de-lis, decorated with a Knight of the Dagger cross and carrying the inscription Louis XVI, was found in an emigrated person’s castle and shot at La Bassee, district of Lille.

By judgement of 27 Brumaire Year II (17 November 1792), the revolutionary tribunal had condemned to death the invalid Saint-Prix, as well as his dog, trained by its master to bark in a certain way, when strangers arrived, and bite whomever he wanted.

The official minutes of the execution of the poor dog, dated 28 Brumaire (18 November) were transmitted to Fouquier-Tinville.  These minutes had been drawn up, in virtue of the judgement rendered by the revolutionary tribunal, which condemned Prix, known as Saint-Prix, to death.  The judgement also said that Saint-Prix’ dog was to be killed by a blow to the head.

The same thing happened, in 1845, before the Troyes criminal court.  An individual, having hunted with a greyhound, in violation of prefectoral decision, the court condemned him to a fine of fifty francs, and ordered that his dog be killed, whenever it would please the King’s Procurer.  Luckily for the animal, the Paris court of appeal, by decision of 22 January 1846, reformed the sentence, stating that destruction, authorised by the law of 3 May 1844, only concerned inanimated objects.

Until the beginning of the XXth Century, animals appeared before courts and were condemned just as severely as men.

“From Interlaken to the New York Herald:  We remember the murder followed by theft committed last December on the person of M. Marger.  The case has shown the preponderant role played by a dog in this sensational affair.  The Delemont court has just rendered its decision.  The two accused, Scherrer father and son, were given the maximum sentence of prison for life.  As for the dog, whose complicity had drawn the court’s attention, it was condemned to death.  L’Eclair, 4 May 1906.”

We could ask how a custom like the execution of murderous animals was able to persist for so long.  The Middle Ages considered animals as moral and perfectible beings.  It is therefore understandable that they were made responsable for their acts.  After having assimilated them to men in legends, poetry and artistic monuments, they placed them on the same level of jurisprudence.

However, we must not believe that these men assimilated themselves to animals.  The cases against beasts were made because a man had suffered damages.  Justice was uniquely preoccupied with the human creature.  Any violence committed against it must be punished, whoever the author was.  That seems to be the principle of the legislation of former times.

Perhaps our ancestors were wrong to too clearly separate material facts from moral guilt.  Although, it can be said in their defence that the law was still at its beginnings, and that all the formalities with which justice was surrounded, showed their respect for this justice and for the human person.

Others only want to see these executions as examples destined to impress the multitude.  They say that it is to make people abhor homicide that this crime was so severely punished, even when animals were the guilty ones.  Did the sight of the gibbet inspire horror of the crime?  It is doubtful.  Particularly when the victim was an animal.

Cases against animals were nothing more than a symbol destined to give a feeling of justice among a population which knew only the law of the most powerful, and of that law, only the law of intimidation and violence.  But what about the symbolism of the ecclesiastic courts with their maledictions and excommunications?

These cases helped the country people to console themselves for the loss of their harvests, by inspiring them with the hope that this bad thing would not occur again.  They also gave them an elevated idea of justice, which did not permit itself to punish even rats, without following all of the formalities prescribed by law.

All of these trials, rather bizarre in appearance, carried a good part of symbolism, and probably had no other object than to glorify universal justice by looking to impress the population by an unquestionable authority and judgement.

Respect, and perhaps also credulous superstition, made the people accept without protest all of these condemnations, in these times of barbary, even though some of them were sometimes a bit excessive.

Animals brought to trial – part 9

In these trials, all the formalities were rigorously observed, as if the animals were human.  In the dossier of an affair judged in 1499, we even find the minutes of the notification made to the murderous young pig, in the prison where the condemned were kept, before being taken to the place of execution.

In a receipt, written on 16 October 1408, the cost of the daily food of a young pig, incarcerated for the murder of a child, is listed at the same price as that indicated in the accounts for the individual food of each man then held in the same prison.

The execution of these death sentences was carried out with the same solemnity as for ordinary criminals.  Usually, the animal’s owner was obliged to witness it, as well as the father of the victim, if the victim was a child.  This was a way of punishing them.  One for his negligence in letting the beast roam, the other for not having sufficiently watched over his progeniture.

The beast was taken to the execution in a cart.  The sergeants escorted it to the gallows, where the executioner performed.  At other times, the animal was buried alive, in a grave dug for this purpose.

In the month of March 1463, the municipal magistrature of Amiens paid Phelippart, Sergeant of High Justice of the town, sixteen sols for having buried two young pigs which had eaten a child from the suburbs of Amiens.  At Saint-Quentin, on 6 December 1557, a young pig was condemned to be buried alive in a grave, for having eaten a little child at the Hotel de la Couronne.

Sometimes, it wasn’t possible to discover which animal was guilty when, for example, it was part of a herd.  In this case, the whole herd was included in the trial.

The next affair is particular, perhaps unique, at the very least exceptional.  Letters of pardon and remission were accorded to the accused animals.

The 5 September 1379, while Perrinot Muet, son of Jean Muet, known as Hochebet, common swineherd in the little town of Jussey, was helping his father with his work in the municipal fields, three sows rushed up at the cry of a young pig, threw themselves on him, knocked him over and bit him with such fury that, when his father and the Prior’s swineherd, who was keeping his herd not far from there, arrived to help him, he was only able to mumble a few words and died on the spot.

Having heard of the event, the Prior of Saint-Marcel-les-Jussey, Humbert de Poutiers, Lord High Justice, not wanting to leave the affair to the officers of the Duke, ordered the mayor to imprison the guilty parties, including his own herd which, in the confusion, had mingled with the other one, and to immediately start their trial.

But, when the two herds were locked up and this first satisfaction had been given to public vindictiveness, the Prior and the municipality soon understood that their interests were going to be seriously compromised if, as it seemed fairly certain, the trial ended in capital punishment.

Any executed animal was considered to be impure, and was consequently unfit to serve as food for the public.  Therefore, it had to be immediately buried, if it wasn’t burnt.  The poor swineherd had recognized the three murderous sows, but would ducal justice, always prompt to intervene in the affairs of inferior jurisdictions, admit this supreme witness statement?  Would it not consider the two herds as being accomplices?

The case was not clear.  However, as there was no time to be lost, Humbert de Poutiers rushed to Montbard, where Duke Philippe le Hardi was at the time.  He managed to see the prince, and exposed the facts to him.  The Duke mandated the Bailiff of the county of Burgundy to execute the three sows and a young pig belonging to the Prior, and ordered the restitution of the herds to their owners.  The poor pigs had had a narrow escape.

The motive for the Duke’s clemency was not, as could be supposed, the impossibilty of punishing so many guilty creatures all at once.  Certain documents show that, in other circumstances, this consideration did not stop the course of justice.  Around 1450, the mayors and municipal magistrates of Rouvres condemned sixteen cows and a goat, and the sentence was executed.

Death by fire was reserved for those who were guilty of the crime of bestiality.  It was like this among the Hebrews, and Roman law, as well as the Chapters of Charlemagne and the Establishments of Saint Louis, were only conforming to this tradition.

The simple attempt, not followed by success, was sufficient to have the guilty parties condemned to death.  The beast, passive instrument, was burnt with the guilty person, as well as all of the trial documents so that no trace of such monstruous crimes remained.

There were nuances in the application of the punishment.  Sometimes strangulation took place before the fire was lit.  Sometimes the guilty were strangled after having been lightly burnt.  At other times, it was decided that they would be burnt alive.

Executions of this kind were relatively frequent, and there is hardly a region where a few cases cannot be found.

Tenth and last part tomorrow.

Animals brought to trial – part 8

It was usually in their cradles that murderous beasts strangled and killed very young children.  Sometimes the children were a little older, like the five-year-old boy killed by a sow at Savigny in 1457.

Another sow was condemned to be killed by a blow to the head for having devoured the chin of a child from the village of Charonne.   The sentence ordered that the flesh of this sow be cut up and thrown to the dogs.  The owner and his wife had to make a pilgrimage to Notre-Dame-de-Pontoise where, on the day of the Pentecost Feast, they were to cry out:  “Merci!” (This word literally means “Mercy” in French.  It is used these days to say “No, thank you” in particular, and just “Thank you” in general.)  They were to bring back a certificate to prove that they had done it.

Things did not always take place as simply as we have seen up until now.  In 1572, at Moyenmoutier, in the region of Saint-Die, a pig devoured a young child.  The animal, surprised in the act, was arrested and locked up in the prison of the abbey (moutier is an old French word for “monastery”) under the name of “pig Claudon”, from his owner’s name.

The procurer immediately began his enquiry, interrogated witnesses, who were confronted with the animal.  Then, the mayor, the municipal magistrates and other prominent people were convoked to hear the sentence which was to be read by the lawyer.  It was the death sentence for the animal.

The reading finished, the mayor, the municipal magistrates, all of the men led the pig to the stone cross and there, the mayor cried out three times:  “The Provost of Saint-Die!… “  Religious justice, not being able to shed blood, presented the guilty one again, this time to civil justice, the Provost of Saint-Die.

It was then believed that death on the gibbet applied to an animal guilty of murder, would always inspire horror of the crime, and that the beast’s owner was sufficiently punished by the loss of his animal, for the damage caused to others.

It was not only pigs who expiated their faults on the gibbet.  Bulls, horses, donkeys were also brought to justice and condemned.

In 1499, a judgement of the bailiwick of the Abbot of Beaupre, Order of Citeaux, near Beauvais, condemned a bull which had killed a young man, to death on the gallows.

A cat was executed, on 30 March 1467, for having “strangled” (suffocated?) a child of fourteen months, in the home of Clement le Bachelier, of Longueville.  The cat was hung on the field gallows.

In 1389, a horse was condemned to death on information given by the municipal magistrates of Montbard, for having killed a man.  Bullocks and cows, wild or domestic, according to the charter known as the Eleanore Charter, drawn up in 1395, could be legally killed if they were found pilfering.

Donkeys which were guilty of the same misdeed were treated with more humanity.  They were assimilated to thieves of a higher condition.  The first time that a donkey was found in a cultivated field which was not that of its master, one of its ears was cut off.  If it did it again, its second ear was cut off.  If the misdeed was committed a third time, it was not hung like other beasts but was confiscated by the prince.

This favouritism disappeared when it was a question of homicide.  The accounts for the Provost’s jurisdiction of Dijon for the year 1405, show the payment of the sum of five francs, paid to Master Collard, the Executioner, for having taken to the Dijon gibbet and having put to death, a donkey which had killed a child.

From the year 1120 up until and including 1741, in diverse provinces of France, no fewer than ninety-three condemnations against animals guilty of homicides and damages were pronounced.

A few animals were also condemned to death for the crime of sorcery.  At Bale, a rooster accused of laying an egg, in August 1474, was handed over to the Executioner who publicly burnt it, with its egg.  At the time, sorcerers were thought to use rooster eggs, supposedly containing a serpent, for their invocations.

Voltaire reports that there was a case, in 1610, about a trained horse, like those in circuses.  The master and his horse were accused of using spells and it was debated whether or not they should both be burnt.

Ninth part tomorrow.

Animals brought to trial – part 7

By punishing animals, were the courts recognizing that animals were responsible creatures?  Ancient legal advisors do not seem to think this.

Durel writes:  “If the beasts do not only wound, but kill or eat little children, as experience has shown, like you eat piglets, death is due, and they are condemned to be hung and strangled, so as to lose the memory of the enormity of the deed.”

Another legal advisor from the XVIth Century, Laurent Bouchel, is more explicit:  “If we still see one hung and strangled on the gallows, for having eaten a baby, it is to warn fathers and mothers, nurses, domestics, not to leave the children alone or to lock up their animals well, so that they cannot hurt or do something wrong.”

If pigs are designated in these two citations, it is because there is no other animal against which more condemnations have been pronounced.  In some villages, pigs were still roaming freely in the streets and eating little children who were not being watched properly.

The animal must then answer to criminal justice, and here is how the procedure unfolds:  as soon as a misdeed is reported, the delinquent animal is seized, and taken to the prison of the seat of criminal justice where the case was to be presented.  Witness statements were drawn up and an enquiry was immediately started.

The deed being established without any doubt, the procurer, that is to say the officer who exercised the function of public minister for the lord’s justice, required that the guilty party be brought to trial.  After having heard the witnesses, and on their affirmative statements, the procurer made demands, according to which the judge rendered his sentence, declaring the animal guilty of homicide and condemning it to be strangled and hung, by its two posterior members, to an oak or on a gibbet, according to local custom.

Often, the magistrates called to rule in these sorts of affairs surrounded themselves with councils of practising officers and other good people of their jurisdiction, seneschalsy, bailiwick or provost jurisdiction, according to consecrated custom.  Such rigour was brought to the observation of all formalities in matters of criminal procedure, in some places, that the sentence was only executed after having been read to the animal itself in its prison.

It has also been said that the animals were interrogated, their screams, under torture, passing for admission of guilt.  No formal proof of such practices has been found.

The first judgement against a murderous animal that History has registered, bears the date of 1266.  It was rendered against a young pig who was burnt at Fontenay-aux-Roses, near Paris, for having eaten a child.

Roughly fifty years later, a similar trial took place in the duchy of Valois.  A farmer from the village of Moisy had let a wild bull escape.  The bull, having met a man, pierced him with his horns.  The man only survived his wounds for a few hours.  Charles, Count de Valois, having learnt of this accident at the Crepy Castle, gave the order to seize the bull.

The beast, in virtue of this order, was apprehended, and a case was opened.  The Count’s officers travelled to the place where it had happened to obtain information, and on witness statements, they recognized the truth and the nature of the misdemeanor.  The bull was condemned to be hung.  The execution took place at the village gibbet.

However, this execution was far from closing the incident.  The sentence of the Count’s officers was appealed, because of their incompetence as judges, before the Chandeleur Parliament.

This appeal was drawn up in the name of the procurer of the hospital of the town of Moisy.  The parliament decided that the judgement of the executed bull was equitable, but that Count de Valois’ officers had no right to order any proceedings on the Moisy territory.

Execution of a sow

Around the same time, 1349, a sow was judged and hung at Chatillon for having devoured a child.  Another sow suffered the same punishment at Gondrecourt in 1354.

An inhabitant of Orleans, Guillaume de Coulons, was feeding some young pigs in his hotel.  One of the animals screamed loudly.  A child, intrigued by these cries, entered the chamber and was rapidly partially devoured.

The procurer of the bailiwick demanded the execution of the pigs.  The animals’ owner argued in his defence that the child had not been wounded by the pigs, of their own, spontaneous movement.   A doctor from Paris had seen no trace of mutilation on the child’s body.  He had died because of a fever provoked by fear, before being eaten.  After these declarations, the animals were returned to their master.

Another case, which lasted several years, took place in 1383, between the lord of Gerberoy and the local chapter, when a young pig was seized at Haussez for having eaten a child’s face.

In 1386 in Falaise, for the same crime, a sow was hung by its rear legs, after having had its snout mutilated, and covered by the mask of a human face.  This sow was also dressed like a man to suffer its punishment.  A jacket was put on it, as well as breeches and white gloves.

Eighth part tomorrow.

Animals brought to trial – part 6

Around 1782, because of an epizootic which the veterinaries were unable to stop, all animals, whether healthy or sick, were taken to the doors of the churches.  The priests, dressed in robes and stoles, gravely exorcised them, sprinkling them with holy water and hanging around their necks, as an amulet, a little packet of salt over which they had pronounced mystical words.

In isolated countrysides where superstition flourished, the clergy was still using the archaic arm of excommunication.

Besides these religious means, justice usually punished the murderer with the death penalty.  We find these words of Moses in the Scriptures:  “If a bullock has struck a man or a woman with its horns, and that person is dead, it must be stoned.”  But it was a legitimate defence against a dangerous animal, that the Prophet was authorising.

Less understandable is Moses’ prescription not to eat the flesh of a bullock sacrificed in this way.  Another surprise is his declaration that the master of the bullock is innocent.  The law of the XII Tables edicts that, if an animal has caused damage, the master must give an estimated compensation for it;  if not, he must give the thing which has caused the damage, that is to say the animal.

Burgund law is based on the same principles:  “If among the animals, a horse has killed a horse, if a bullock has struck a bullock, or if a dog has bitten so that the wounded animal can no longer work, the first animal, or the dog which appears to have caused the damage, must be delivered to the person who has suffered it.”.

In almost all of the ancient laws, the animal is not placed outside common law.  The Laws punish it, but they protect and venge it also, just like any other servant.  Sometimes it is called as a witness, sometimes sued as guilty.

If a man who lives alone is attacked in his house and he kills the brigand, he pulls three strands from his thatched roof, takes his dog, or the cat, or the rooster, leads them before a judge, swears and is declared innocent.  The animals are therefore invoked as witnesses.

We all know the story of the Montargis dog who, recognizing, at the court of Charles V, his master’s assassin, throws himself at him and causes such suspicion about the guilt of the knight Maurice, that the King decides on a Judgement of God.  The man and the dog fight in an arena.  The dog’s victory decides the guilty knight to confess his crime.

The Montargis Dog

According to Gallic law, whoever finds geese in his crop must cut a stick, its length from his elbow to the end of his little finger and, with this stick, kill the geese.  If the geese were eating grain which was not destined for them, a harrow is dropped on their necks, and they are left there to die.

Many laws found in judiciary annals, from the XIII Century on, attest to a constant jurisprudence, and for all countries, on this point:  if the animal has committed a misdemeanor, it must expiate its misdeed.  Justice not only attacks beasts which commit homicides, but also those which have eaten the victim’s flesh.

A sow. XVIIth Century engraving

In the affair of the sow judged in Savigny, in 1457, the judge hesitated to condemn the pigs after the sow had killed Jehan Martin, because it had not been demonstrated that they had eaten his flesh, even though they had been found with their snouts covered in blood.

In India, no fine was asked for the damages caused by elephants and horses, nor by an animal with one eye, nor by a cow who had just calved.  Bulls which were kept for breeding, beasts consecrated to the gods, accompanied or not by their guardians, were declared by Manu, the first hindu legislator, exempt from any fines.

On the other hand, anyone who had committed the crime of killing a cow had to shave his head completely, swallow barley seeds for a month, and install himself in a field with cows, covered with the skin of the one which he had killed.  He followed the herd all day and, staying behind it, swallowed the dust which it raised.  He also had to serve and bow to it.

Dogs and cats spitefully killed also obtained vengeance.  They were placed upright and the murderer had to cover them from head to tail, not in gold, but in red seeds.

Seventh part tomorrow.

Kreativ Blogger obligations

As I mentioned in a former post about the Kreativ Blogger Awards, the people who are nominated for the award have certain obligations.  There are seven of them.  I have not yet complied with all of them but I fully intend to do it.

The first obligation is to thank the person who gave it to you.  I have already done that.

The second obligation is to copy the logo and display it on your blog site.  I have done that too.  With difficulty, but I managed it in the end.

The third obligation is to add to your site a link to the blog of the person who gave it to you.  Roger’s Place was already listed in my Blogroll before I received the award from Roger, so I have also done that.

The fourth obligation is to name seven things about yourself that people might find interesting.

The fifth obligation is to name seven other Kreativ Bloggers.

The sixth obligation is to post links to the seven blogs which you have named.

The seventh obligation is to leave a comment on each of the blogs which you have named, to let them know that they have been named.

I appear to be up to the fourth obligation, so here goes:

1)  I was born in Sydney, Australia and spent the first twenty years of my life there, before marrying and moving to France for thirty-eight years.  I am now back in Australia.

2)  I have three children and five grandchildren.

3)  I have been on stage since the age of six.  I first appeared on television at the age of twelve (I think).  My one and only magazine cover was when I was sixteen.  I was a founding member of the Young Australian Ballet Company.  Warren de Maria was our star dancer.  He was fourteen, but looked twenty.

4)  I started writing poetry at the age of eleven.  My primary school teacher later gave me an exercise book to write down my poems.  Her name was Mrs Henricks (or Hendricks) mother of Olympic gold medallist swimmer Jon.  She brought his medals to school for us to see.  My poetry has won me a few awards, mostly in France.

5)  I have the honour of being first cousin, once removed, to the Olympic gold medallist swimmer Claire Dennis.  My grandfather (her uncle), a policeman, was one of her bodyguards when she came back from the Los Angeles Olympics.  The crowd mobbed her when she got off the ship.

6)  I was eleven (I think) when I had my first article published on the radio.  I later worked as correspondent for a French newspaper.  I had some short stories published by the London Evening News and one of my plays was performed by my own performing arts company in France.

7)  I have sung with a few bands in France, and did a cabaret act with my own songs.  I crossed the English Channel on the midnight ferry with Roger Glover who, for the uninitiated, plays bass guitar with Deep Purple.  His band had just broken up and he had not yet written Love is All which I always call The Butterfly Ball.  Deep Purple has since re-formed, with Rog’ back on the bass.  We were the only two awake in our part of the ferry.  We sat on the floor and chatted about Life, each of us on opposite sides of a New Zealand couple fast asleep.  It was June, the ferry was packed, and I was on my way to a royal garden party at Buckingham Palace.  My hat was in a paper bag.  Dear Rog’ thought that I was “normal” and asked me a lot of questions about my life because he didn’t meet a lot of normal people, according to him.  I like to think that my answers might have contributed somewhat to Love is All.  Please don’t disillusion me, if you know that they didn’t.

Now, for the fifth obligation.

I do not yet have seven blogs to name.  I’m fussy.  However, I have a few ready.

The first one is Late Fruit.  Elaine writes about a lot of things connected with Art and Ageing (American spelling:  Aging).  This site is very interesting and informative.

The second one is Sandy Says.  It is written by a lady golden retriever, who talks about her canine friends and her Human, who is a writer.

The third one is Allan Takes Aim.  Don Allan is a columnist for a Canberra newspaper and writes about a lot of different subjects.  His work is amusing, although you may not always approve of what he says.

The fourth one is Single and Thirty-something (which does not have capital letters in the name on the site) and is perhaps a more classic blog.  However, it is well-written and often funny, and I think that she deserves a spot on my list.

I am still looking for the other three.

I have already posted links to these four blogs in my Blogroll, so the sixth condition has been done as far as they are concerned.

I am about to visit each of the sites which I have named to inform them of their nomination, thereby conforming with the seventh obligation.

Animals brought to trial – part 5

Excommunication was pronounced against some ants in Brazil at the beginning of the XVIIIth Century.  The monks at the Saint Antonio monastery sued the insects for violation of property and ordered them to leave the places which they had invaded, under threat of excommunication.

These practices were continued for a long time, and the Church had not stopped doing it under Louis XIV.

There was a trial, in the first years of the XVIIIth Century, to judge caterpillars which were desolating the territory of the little town of Pont-du-Chateau, in Auvergne.  The Grand Vicar excommunicated the caterpillars and sent the case to the local judge, who rendered a sentence against the insects, and solemnly ordered them to withdraw into an uncultivated territory expressly designated.

This practice continued elsewhere up until the XXth Century.  In 1901, in certain regions of Orne, the clergy did public exorcisms whenever there was an abnormal multiplication of harmful insects, such as cockchafers (maybugs) or caterpillars.

The persistence of such customs is surprising, particularly as protests against such heresies were made several times.  Some members of the clergy were not afraid to formulate strong criticisms against these absurd ceremonies.

“Sentences of excommunication are given against vermin,” wrote one Spanish monk from the Order of Saint-Benoit.  “This way of doing things is full of superstition and impiety, firstly, because you can’t sue animals which have no reason…;  secondly, because we sin and blaspheme grievously, when we mock the Church’s excommunication;  for, wanting to submit dumb animals to excommunication, is just the same as if someone wanted to baptise a dog or a stone.”

These same ideas were professed by Saint Thomas.  “It is not permitted to pronounce maledictions against beings deprived of judgement:  for if we consider these beings as coming from the hand of God, we commit, in cursing them, a true blasphemy;  if we envisage them simply as they are, we then perform a vain and consequently prohibited act.”

The best canonists censured excommunications against animals.  So did certain legal advisors.  Philippe de Beaumanoir, author of Coutumes de Beauvoisis, clearly separated himself from his contemporaries, on this point.  But what can a few isolated voices do against abuses which have roots in pre-Christian culture?

A criminologist wrote:  “It is inconceivable that no-one has thought to present as an outrage to divine majesty the cases, the condemnations and executions against animals which have only obeyed their ferocious instincts.  In any case, it is only too true that Justice soils itself by cases of such a ridiculous nature,  which is inexplicable, particularly when we reflect that not only were these affairs seriously examined, but that expert advice was sought for their solution, like the gravest of cases.”

Some blamed the Church for being the instigator of these judgements.  It is however in Antiquity, and even earlier, that the origin of such comportment should be sought.

Pagan Antiquity furnished a great number of examples of animals, and even inanimated objects, being cited in justice and condemned to various punishments, for their imputed misdeeds.

The judges of Athens went as far as sentencing the sword or the dagger which had served in a crime.  The Prytanea tribunal had for mission to condemn all inanimate objects, such as an axe, a piece of wood or a stone which had caused the death of someone, without human intervention and, found guilty of homicide, the object was thrown out of the territory.

The spirit of this curious procedure reappears in an old English law, no longer in existence , in virtue of which, not only an animal who had killed a man, but the wheel of a chariot which had passed over him, a tree which had crushed him in falling, was deodand, or given to God, that is to say confiscated and sold for the poor.  In commenting this law, Doctor Reid said that its object was not to punish the bullock or the cart like criminals, but to inspire the people with a sacred respect for human life.

Just like insects, four-legged animals brought to trial for murder, received anathema and suffered exorcism seances.

In Rome, for over six hundred years, a solemn procession took place annually, where a dog was paraded.  The dog was then crucified, in memory and in execration of the dog which didn’t bark when the Gauls attacked the Capitol.

Sixth part tomorrow.