If you, like me, were a child of the 80s, you had the admonition “Don’t Talk to Strangers” drilled into your head. It was the time of Stranger Danger, a fear that only ramped up in the 90s.
I suspect that Jehannin Le Fournier, brought before the provost of the Châtelet of Paris in 1390, really wished Stranger Danger had been a thing in his own formative years. At 28, he was still young, yet old enough perhaps to have known better than to accept a package from peeps unknown. Even if those peeps were Dominican friars.
Jehannin’s story is enough to make me think that maybe the TSA was on to something when it started asking travelers if they’d been asked to carry anything onto flights for someone else. (As a kid, when the TSA asked me this, I always felt a little confused. My parents asked me to take lots of things. I suppose that’s why the language eventually shifted to mimic the vocabulary of stranger danger.)
In honour of my lost childhood and Jehannin’s lost life, I’ve subtitled this post Stranger Danger (or Danger Étranger). The case comes by way of the Registre Criminel du Chatelet, vol. II.
In July 1390, Jehannin had been living in Chartres. Around the feast of the Magdalene, he felt moved by the spirit to travel to Notre-Dame du Puy, in Anjou.
Not far outside town, maybe a quarter of a league give or take, two Dominican friars came up to him and asked if he wanted to earn some money.
And really, this is where he should have stopped. It’s like those spam calls that I get asking if I want to make lots of money by doing absolutely nothing from home. There’s always a catch.
Jehannin, not wise in the way of telemarketers, said, “Oh hell yes! Tell me what I need to do.”
In the mold of all good scams, it was a simple thing, really. No back-breaking work. No long hours. All he had to do was throw some small packets into the various wells and fountains he passed by on his way to Anjou. Do that, and he’d be paid handsomely.
Jehannin may have been a bit too eager to make easy money, but he was also a curious man. “What’s in the packets?”
“Oh, just some poison, meant to kill certain men.”
Oh good. No biggie. Just a highly selective poison tossed into the common drinking water of the town. It will definitely only kill the right people. Sure.
Okay, organic chemistry was not yet on the roster of classes available at the University of Paris. But it was 1390, my dude! The Black Death is still having its way with the world and there have definitely been a lot of accusations of well poisoning floating around. Against Jews, against the poor, lepers… Lots. You’d think it’d give him pause.
You’d be wrong.
He was good to go, so long as he was well paid.
They gave him three blancs (in value about 10d. each) and promised him that he’d get more once he’d jettisoned the 25-30 packets they tipped into his outstretched palms.
It probably helped Jehannin that he wasn’t alone when he met with the Dominicans. There were more than a dozen people, none of whom he knew, whom the Dominicans approached and gathered together. Though they were all strangers to Jehannin, he does give quite the description of one of them, whom he names Gilet:
Dressed in blue and white, about 32 years old, with deformed legs, Gilet was a tall man. His hair was long and brown and he had been begging for bread along the road.
At last on his own, Jehannin continued on his way. That very same day, he threw packets into two wells and two fountains. And then somehow, amazingly, he thought better of it, realized he’d done evil, and tossed the remaining packets of poison in a bush.
Why does he have this amazing revelation? Probably because we have this story thanks to the fact he was caught. What I’ve just written his first go at a confession, given in Tours.
First go. There was a second, once he was transported to the Châtelet in Paris. He amends things a little.
We get the same opening, finding out he was born in Dijon in Burgundy and is about 28 years old in 1390. Once again, he’s off to Notre-Dame du Puy and just outside the town he encounters two Dominicans.
Or does he?
Because this time, he says they were two men dressed as Dominicans, riding horses.
The same conversation commences. Jehannin once again agrees, though this time he’s quick to point out it was thanks to the Devil’s temptation, and they again pay him three blancs and give him only 8 packets, each as big as a hazelnut, wrapped in a small white cloth.
Jehannin makes no mention of the other people these men propositioned. He also does not take his leave immediately. Instead, he spends the next three days in their company, eating and drinking and taking his ease beside them. Traveling together, they passed through various villages. Once more he “poisons” four wells. And then once more, he has a sudden realization that he’s done evil and tosses the remaining packets into a bush.
The officers of the Châtelet were none too happy with Jehannin’s revised tale. His attempt to poison people, whether specific or indiscriminate, amounted to lese majesty, the highest of high treasons. He had threatened the common good, as well as “the universal world and human creatures.”
Crimes against humanity, the Middle Ages sees you.
The provost and his councilors sentenced Jehannin to death as a traitor. On 27 December 1390, he was decapitated, then his corpse was hanged from a gibbet.