Source: Flick
Special thanks to Andrea Eidinger and Michelle Desveaux for their help with this post.
Happy Halloween! As a historian of witchcraft and blasphemy, this is really my time of year. Last year’s Halloween special was such a hit that we decided to put together another one. Rather than discuss witchcraft cases at large in New France, this year we’ll be looking at the 1742 trial of François-Charles Havard de Beauford – lawyer, soldier, public entertainer, and sorcerer. – a true jack of all trades who was arrested for performing a divination spell.
International Man of Mystery
Little is known of Havard’s life before he came to the attention of the court. We know he was born around 1715 in Paris. We don’t know when, why, or how he came to New France. There are no records for him in the PRDH at all, suggesting he neither married nor had children, at least in New France. But he was in the Montreal region by at least 1737, and was widely known as a public entertainer who used card and knife tricks. His nickname of L’Advocat, or The Lawyer, suggests he was educated as such in Paris, though there is no way to know this for sure. He first entered the records of New France following his 1737 attempt to locate a valuable ring, using his cards as divination tools, that had been lost by Marie de La Porte de Louvigny, wife of prominent colonial officer, Jacques Testard de Montigny. [1]
Expert Tip: Divination spells have a long history in both France and New France. While today the term is usually used to refer to predictions, divination is also used to describe magic used to find lost items. In fact, France’s first documented secular witchcraft trial was a case of divination and love potions. Accusations of divination commonly showed up as additions to what could be considered “primary” accusations of witchcraft. For example, Anne Lamarque, who tried for witchcraft and adultery in Montreal in 1682, was accused of magically finding a lost object belonging to a carpenter who was lodging at her tavern.[2]
A Man, A Mirror, and a Crucifix
Despite Havard’s lack of success with the ring, when Charles Robidoux, a Montreal shoemaker, lost three hundred livres in 1742, he naturally went to see Havard. Three hundred livres was not an inconsiderable amount, and Robidoux was willing to pay Havard twenty livres to try and find it. Had Havard simply attempted to find it without much fuss, there’s a possibility we wouldn’t be discussing the matter today. But of course, that’s not what happened.
Havard considered himself a bit of a showman. Rather than simply perform the task and send Robidoux on his way, he scheduled a public event to show off his skill, and invited the entire neighbourhood to witness the event at Robidoux’s house. There were therefore multiple people on hand to witness what happened and who would later testify in court. On June 28, 1742, Havard began in an appropriately dramatic fashion. He had banked the fire and lit candles all over the room, establishing the proper atmosphere. A mirror lay flat on the table, with candles, packages of gunpowder, and various bottles filled with an oily substance surrounding it. When the attendees had filled the room and were properly hushed, Havard began reading from a small book of Latin prayers, after which he poured the oil over a crucifix, onto the mirror. Some witnesses described the oil as mixed with ashes, others described it as just being a black oil. They were all equally horrified to see what was basically a perversion of holy oil being poured over a crucifix for such a purpose and in such an atmosphere.[3] When this initial ceremony was ineffectual, he threw small envelopes of gunpowder into the fire three times, chanting Latin verses after each explosion. In the end, it was all for nothing. The intended purpose was to reveal the face of the thief in the mirror, but no face appeared.
Consequences
Within two days, both Robidoux and Havard were arrested and jailed by the Montreal authorities, along with Robidoux’s wife. During his interrogation on June 30th, the inquisitor asked Havard, “do you know why you’re in jail?” Havard responded by referring to some mundane military matters, indicating that his officers have issues with him, the implication being that he may have done something to anger his commanding officer. Havard believed that this was why he was arrested. Rather than, you know, the witchcraft. The interrogator cleared up the matter pretty quickly, stating that Havard had been accused of witchcraft, and demanding an explanation. Things went straight downhill for him from there – Havard folded like a cheap suit, admitting to everything, going right back to the divination of the missing ring for Testard’s wife. He even confessed to the ritual he performed in Robidoux’s house, the amount of money Robidoux paid him to find the money stolen from him, how he mixed the ingredients for the oil poured over the crucifix. The whole interrogation reads like the perfect example for “how to incriminate both yourself and those you associate with.” What’s more, because Robidoux paid him twenty livres for the spectacle involving the mirror and the crucifix, he was fated to go down with Havard.[4]
But because witchcraft was no longer a prosecutable crime, and even though Havard is referred to as a witch during the proceedings, Havard and Robidoux were both tried and sentenced for blasphemy. Both men were sentenced to be whipped in the public square. Havard was sentenced to pay public penance on the steps of the Basicilica of Notre Dame in Montreal, which usually involved begging for forgiveness in one’s chemise, before being carted out of town and sent to the galleys for no less than five years, never to return to New France. Robidoux was also sentenced to public penance, and ordered to stay out of Montreal for the term of three years.[5]
Witchcraft vs Blasphemy
Françoise de Rochechouart, aka Madame de Montespan, mistress of Louis XIV (Source: Wikipedia Commons)
At this point, it’s important to understand the difference between witchcraft and blasphemy in New France. From 1676 to 1685, Paris was seized by a scandal referred to as the Affair of the Poisons. It began with the murder of a rich property owner by his daughter and her lover by means of “inheritance powders,” a rather clever name for poisons could easily be acquired from unscrupulous apothecaries. The sensationalist and scandalous nature of the draw soon prompted investigations into similar suspicious deaths, and quickly engulfed France’s aristocracy. The first wave of arrests targeted fortune tellers and alchemists, many of whom confessed under torture and provided authorities with the names of clients. Salacious details soon emerged of black masses to encourage pregnancies, love potions slipped into unsuspecting people’s drinks, and more. The trials were held in secret, and were only brought to a halt once charges were made against Louis XIV’s own mistress, Madame de Montespan. While she was accused of purchasing aphrodisiacs to control the King’s desire for her, and attending black masses to keep the King’s favour over her rivals, she could not be found guilty without implying that the King was not of sound mind, or was making decisions based on witchcraft rather than his own will power. If brought to trial, she could possibly have been found guilty not only of witchcraft, but also of treason. Her children with Louis would have been disinherited. But before Madame de Monstspan could be brought to trail, the whole inquisition was brought to an abrupt halt, and Louis XIV declared, by a new ordinance, that witchcraft did not actually exist.[6] Consequently, judicial proceedings against those accused of witchcraft in France and its provinces could no longer take place after 1685. Instead, individuals could only be charged with poisoning or blasphemy. However, this came too late to help those caught up in the affair. A total of 218 individuals were arrested, and of these thirty-six people were executed. Some escaped execution by fleeing Paris once they heard they were going to be charged. This is why, sixty years later, Charles Havard was accused of blasphemy for performing what was obviously a divination spell.
Le crucifix outragé
But the really bizarre result of this trial, and the reason why many people still talk about it, was the church’s reaction. They took up the cause of Havard’s crucifix and made it their mission to “resanctify” it. So far as anybody can tell, there was absolutely nothing special about this particular crucifix before Havard used it in his divination ritual. But the church of New France considered his use of it so perverse, so unholy, that Bishop Pontbriand, the Bishop of New France, ordered an special prayer service, known as an adoration, for the crucifix during a procession from Montreal’s Notre Dame Cathedral to Bonsecours chapel, later entrusting the crucifix to the Soeurs Hospitalières of the Hôtel Dieu of Québec.[7] As late as 2008, the nuns of the Hotel-Dieu were still celebrating the mass of the “Crucifix Outragé” on the first Friday of every October. I tried to ask a friend to get a photo for the purposes of this blog, as the crucifix is still on display in the chapel, but apparently you need special dispensation to do so. (Thanks anyway Joseph.)
I chose this particular trial with an ulterior motive in mind. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Québec’s last election, and the CAQ’s determination to eliminate religious symbols in their public spaces. The debate over whether the crucifix in Quebec’s parliament chamber is a cultural or religious symbol is particularly pertinent here. Clearly, a reminder of Québec’s own history is necessary. This isn’t even distant history – masses for the “outraged” crucifix were being celebrated a decade ago.[8] The trial of Charles Havard isn’t the only trial in Québec’s history to deal with a crucifix, either. In 1687, two soldiers billeted in Ville Marie attempted to murder (or at the very least gravely assault) a local farmer’s son, and ended up damaging a crucifix with an axe instead. Their trial focused entirely on the damage done to the crucifix, while completely ignoring the attempted murder.[9] Charles Havard and Charles Robidoux were punished for their treatment of a crucifix, and the impact of their trial has resounded to modern Québec. A crucifix is clearly much more than a “cultural” symbol, and the refusal to remove the crucifix from Quebec’s National Assembly is a reflection of it’s actual symbolic importance. It’s a reminder of Quebec’s national origin story – the French Catholic “pur laine” mythology that is the backbone of the province’s nationalism, to the exclusion of all other communities that have contributed to Québec’s history.
Notes:
[1] Oddly, the nephew of Anne Lamarque, mentioned below.
[2] Trial of Anne Lamarque, BANQ Vieux Montreal, June 1682.
[3] During his interrogation, Havard revealed that the mix was actually olive oil and crushed-up black peas, and it was purely for dramatic effect. Trial of Charles Havard, BANQ Québec, 1742.
[4] Interrogation of Charles Havard, June 30 1742, BANQ Québec.
[5] Judgment, trial of Havard and Robidoux, July 1742. BANQ Québec.
[6] For more information on the affair of the poisons, see Lynn Wood Mollenauer, Strange Revelations: Magic, Poison, and Sacrilege in Louis XIV’s France (Penn State University Press, 2007)
[7] André Lachance, “François-Charles Havard de Beauford,” Dictionary of Canadian Biography.
[8] This particular mass has likely been celebrated within the last decade, the referenced article is just the only source I have which confirms definitively that this mass has been celebrated, in 2008.
[9] Trial of Pellegris and La Jeunesse, March 1687. BANQ Vieux-Montreal.
Stephanie Pettigrew is a PhD Candidate at the University of New Brunswick. Her dissertation focuses on witchcraft, blasphemy, and heretics in seventeenth century Montreal. She’s also the editorial assistant of Unwritten Histories, and the Project Manager of the British North America Legislative Database Project (bnald.lib.unb.ca). You can find her on twitter at @steph_pettigrew
That’s all for this week! I hope you enjoyed this blog post. If you did, please consider sharing it on the social media platform of your choice! And don’t forget to check back Sunday for a brand new Roundup! See you then!
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