public opinion, continued to defy it, and conquered
even that; and to the very last gasp
persisted in playing the heroine. Nay more,
without confession, remorse, or penitence, she
strove in her own way, and with no trifling
success, to achieve the reputation of a saint.
Surely it is worth while to dig up from the
rubbish-heap of the Prussian criminal court,
a few fragments of the history of such a
woman.

The widow of Privy-councillor Ursinus
lived honoured and courted in the highest
circles of Berlin. Her rank, and the reputation
of her husband, whom she had lost but
a few years, her handsome fortune, her
noble figure, and impressive features, together
with her spirit and her accomplishments,
made her a centre of attraction in the
society of the time. She lived in a splendid
house, and her establishment in all its appointments
was perfect. We may imagine
the sensation created by the news of her
arrest.

Madame Ursinus was seated in the midst
of a brilliant company on the evening of the
fifth of March, eighteen hundred and three,
at the card-table, when a servant, with all
the signs of terror in his face, entered, and
informed her that the hall and ante-room
were occupied by police, who insisted on
seeing her. Madame Ursinus betrayed no
surprise or emotion. She put down her
cards, begged the party with whom she was
engaged at play to excuse the interruption,
observing that it was some mistake, and
that she would be back in a moment.

She went, but did not return. After waiting
some time, her partners inquired after
her, and learned to their consternation that
she was arrested and carried off to prison, on
a charge of poisoning.

A confidential servant, Benjamin Klein,
had complained in the preceding month of
February of indisposition. She gave him a
basin of beef-tea, and some days afterwards
some medicine in raisins. This, so far from
removing his complaint, increased it; and
when his mistress, a few days afterwards,
offered him some boiled rice, he said he
could not eat it, and was much struck by
observing that she carefully put it away
where no one else could get it. This excited
in his mind strong suspicions that there was
something in the food which was detrimental
to health, and associated with his condition.
He resolved secretly to examine his mistress's
room and cabinet, and in the latter he found a
small parcel, with the ominous label—Arsenic.

The next day his attentive mistress brought
him some stewed prunes, which she
recommended as likely to do him good; and this
time he accepted them with apparent thankfulness,
but took care that none of them
should enter his mouth. He communicated
his suspicions to the lady's maid, in whom he
had confidence; and she quickly carried off
the prunes to her brother, who was the
apprentice of a celebrated apothecary. The
apprentice communicated the prunes and the
suspicion to his master, who tested them, and
found them well seasoned with arsenic. The
apothecary very soon conveyed the discovery
to the magistrate, and the magistrate, after
hearing the statement of the servant and the
lady's maid, arrested the great lady.

People, of course, now began to look back
on the life of this distinguished woman; and
it was presently remembered, that her
husband and an aunt, to whose last days she had
paid assiduous attention, and whose wealth
had fallen to her, had gone off suddenly.
Madame Ursinus was at once set down as a
second Brinvilliers, and wonderful revelations
were expected. The general appetite for the
marvellous became ravenous and insatiable.
There appeared almost immediately—it is
wonderful how quickly such things are done
—a book, by M. Frederick Buchholz. entitled
the "Confessions of a Female Poisoner,
written by herself," which was rapidly bought
up and devoured, as the veritable confession
of the Ursinus.

But, alas for the hungering and thirsting
public, Madame Ursinus was not a lady of the
confessing sort! She was a clever, far-seeing
soul, who had laid her grand plans well, and
had allowed no witnesses, and feared no detection.
True, if she had poisoned her husband
and her aunt, the witness of the poison itself
might be forthcoming; but chemical tests for
poisons were not then so well known as they
are now. The bodies were disinterred and
examined, and no trace of poison was found.
The state of the stomach and intestines were
most suspicious; but the doctors disagreed
as to the cause, as doctors will; and so far
Madame Ursinus was safe.

But, there was no getting over the fact that
the prunes intended for the cautious Benjamin
Klein had arsenic in them; and the
Ursinus was too shrewd to attempt to deny
it. On this point she did confess, promptly,
frankly, and fully. But then, she meant no
harm, at least against him. She had no
intention of murdering the man. What good
could that do her?—he had no money to
leave. No; her motive was very different.
In early life her affections had been thwarted
through the usual obduracy of parents; she
had married a man whom she highly esteemed,
but did not love; another friend, whom she
did love, had died of consumption; and she
was disgusted with life. The splendour and
gaiety which surrounded her were a hollow
splendour, a wearisome gaiety. She had
been prosperous, but that prosperity had only
accelerated her present mood. She had outlived
the relish of existence, and had resolved
to die. Ignorant, however, poor innocent
soul! of the force of this poison, she wanted
to learn how much would be sufficient for its
object; and therefore she had done as young
doctors are said to do in hospitals—made a few
experiments on her patient, the unfortunate