Excerpt from Madame De Brinvilliers and Her Times, 1630-1676 Nietzsche tells us that "woman is unutterably more wicked than man." If Madame de Brinvilliers could be taken as a normal type of her sex one might be disposed to agree with the German philosopher. But Marie Marguerite d'Aubray was far from being an ordinary example of womanhood, and it is exactly that which makes her case so engrossing. Amongst the records of famous criminals the trial of this highly-born lady has always taken a prominent place. If criminology be at times a trifle morbid it is often valuable, and in this instance it enables us to follow rather closely a curiously complex society from which was evolved a mighty state. This volume is not intended to be so much a recital of the crimes of the Marquise as a picture of the lively circles in which she lived. One idea will certainly arise before the last page is i reached, and the reader must guard his mind against it. It is unfortunate that the wicked people are generally more interesting than the good. There was much vice in the reign of Louis XIV., much hypocrisy, much double-dealing. We, by the way, in the twentieth century are not so virtuous that we need cast stones at the seventeenth. But France, it must always be remembered, cannot be judged from Paris, and France was not wholly bad. Had it been so, Louis XIV. and his ministers with all their prescience could never have made it the first nation in Europe. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
For some time now I’ve been fascinated by the Marquise de Brinvilliers and her life as a poisoner. I’m pleased to say that despite this bio being published in 1912, it’s better than many modern history books I’ve read.
With it having “and Her Times” tagged on to my point of interest, I feared it’d be another one of those biographies with little info available on its main topic, so it uses masses of filler material. This is *not* the case.
The parts that focus on the Marquise’s times help to visualise her world. No filler material, then, but rather quality info.
But it’s the Marquise’s story that makes this book shine. I learned a lot more about her than I knew previously. A few myths were also debunked.
The author used translations of the Marquise’s trial and of writing by the priest (Abbé Pirot) with whom she spent her last days in discussion with.
My criticisms are few, and one I’ll forgive because of when the book was written, namely the author’s use of the passive voice. Passive voice equals passive prose, but luckily his subject matter is so fascinating that it doesn’t seem too bad.
The one element I hate is this type of thing:
"O nuit desastreuse, o nuit effroyable ou retentit tout a coup, comme un eclat de tonnerre, cette etonnante nouvelle: Madame se meurt, Madame est morte ! . . . Madame a passe 1 du matin au soir ainsi que 1'herbe de champs. Le matin elle fleurrissait, avec quelle grace, vous le savez: le soir nous la vimes sechee. . . . Quelle diligence! en neuf heures, 1'ouvrage est accompli."
I haven’t a clue what the above means, and I wasn’t going to break off from reading to go onto Google Translate (which isn’t always accurate anyway). I’m pro-language-learning, but an English language book should be written only in English. If another tongue must be used, provide a translation. It’s pure arrogance on the author’s part to leave the reader in the dark.
The above gripe apart, this is a great biography of the infamous Marquise.
She comes across as a cunning and clever woman, yet at the same time slightly unhinged.