In the morning snow, Marie Servat walked at the very rear of the company. Her sister Adeline and her father Jean Serval went before her along the road to Suc. Beneath the folds of her dress, according to the indictment, she carried the parcel she had kept hidden through the night. About four kilometres beyond the hamlet of La Ruéro, the road skirted a low-lying meadow bounded by a dry-stone wall. There, it was alleged, Marie seized the bundle and cast the body into the grass. The rural constable of Suc came upon it shortly thereafter. The page of the Gazette des Tribunaux recounts this journey in reverse: departing from the discovery, it traces its way back to a wedding feast, a night in an upper chamber, and the persistent denials of a young girl.
The hearing in question took place on the 30th of April 1873 before the Court of Assizes of the Ariège. The prisoner stated her name to be Jeanne-Marie Servat; the journal thereafter refers to her simply as Marie. A rag-picker native to Foix, she was sixteen years and five months of age, according to the preamble of the chronicle. The bill of indictment fixed the beginning of her pregnancy in the preceding month of May, when she was but fifteen and a half. The published account is devoted chiefly to the text of the indictment, followed by a few brief lines recording the arguments and the verdict.
Her parents, according to the prosecution, had early suspected her condition. They questioned her; she denied everything, attributing the outward signs to other infirmities. Neighbours worthy of trust spoke to her in their turn. Her mother wished to consult a physician, but Marie was said to have divined her intention and thwarted the visit. The prosecution imputed a calculated design to these prolonged silences: she had sought, it alleged, to conceal her dishonour by destroying the infant at its birth. The narrative states that the parents questioned her repeatedly while continuing to treat her with indulgence, subsequently entrusting their misgivings to reliable neighbours. Her mother still harboured the hope of obtaining a medical opinion. In this official version, the girl met every inquiry with an unyielding denial, until the nuptials offered her a place of concealment. This succession of entreaties and refusals is the construct by which the prosecution accounted for the secret; the press report records none of the words actually exchanged.
Marie’s cousin, Marie-Anne Maury, was to be married at Suc on the 18th of February. On the eve of the ceremony, at about one o’clock in the morning, Marie set out from Foix on foot in the company of her father and her thirteen-year-old sister, Adeline. They walked the entire day, arriving only at nightfall at the home of the bride’s family. Of this first evening the journal says nothing. On the morrow, they accompanied the bride to the church, lingering with the wedding guests until two or three o’clock in the afternoon. It was then that Marie felt the first pangs and understood that her travail was beginning; yet she held her peace. She then joined the rest of the company on the road to La Ruéro, the bridegroom’s house situated in a hamlet some five kilometres distant. The wedding party thus proceeded while she was already in the throes of labour. The feast was served at seven o'clock, following this arduous trek. The account thus places the earliest signs of childbirth several hours before the delivery.
Along the road to La Ruéro, Marie pressed on among the guests without uttering a word of her distress. At seven o’clock, she took her place at the table with the others. Half an hour later, the pains returned, accompanied by violent chills. She rose from the table to seek a bedchamber. The woman Maury accompanied her upstairs, warmed the bed with a warming-pan, and went below again. Marie removed her gown but kept on her petticoats, the indictment states, so as to leave no stain upon the sheets. Before lying down, she stepped out onto the exterior threshold to relieve herself. The pains became so sharp that she cried aloud, calling for her sister. Adeline, who was in the ground-floor room, heard nothing. Marie climbed the stairs alone and lay down once more, still clad in her garments. Half an hour later, the child was born. According to the prosecution, Marie saw that it was alive, wrapped it in a petticoat to smother it, and thrust the small body between the bedclothes and the wall. At eleven o’clock, Adeline came to share the bed. The younger sister slept beside her until dawn, wholly unaware, the chronicle affirms, of the corpse lying beside them.
At seven o’clock in the morning, the two sisters prepared to set out on the return journey to Foix. Once dressed, Adeline observed traces of blood, either upon the petticoat or the bedlinen, and questioned Marie. She replied that her monthly courses had returned during the night. In the printed narrative, this explanation immediately precedes the concealment of the bundle. Once attired, she took the parcel and hid it beneath her hitched-up skirts. On the ground floor, she laid it down in the passageway, behind the kitchen door, taking care to cover it with a handkerchief to hide the blood. She then partook of breakfast with the other guests. The parcel lay within reach of all, yet screened from immediate view; the journal follows its movement without stating whether anyone chanced to pass by the door. Upon their departure, the fallen snow compelled both girls to kirtle their skirts; Marie then folded the bundle into the thick pleats of her garment, as the indictment describes. They set out again upon the road to Suc amidst the guests returning to the village.
On the homeward journey, the travellers walked in single file. Marie brought up the rear. The meadow lay below the road, divided from it by a wall. According to the indictment, she deemed the moment opportune to rid herself of the burden, casting the body into the grass in the hope that it would be devoured by beasts. Half an hour later, the rural constable of Suc passed along the way, discovered the remains, and alerted the mayor. Several of the wedding guests had already suspected Marie’s pregnancy, and suspicion fell upon her without delay.
The constable apprehended her before she could reach Vicdessos and delivered her to the brigadier of the gendarmerie. Examined by the justice of the peace, Marie denied having been delivered of a child and demanded to be examined by a physician. A little later, she confessed to the brigadier, and subsequently reiterated her admissions before the examining magistrate, albeit after grave hesitation. The report states that she recounted every circumstance to him. At the trial, however, she made a faint and timid attempt to recant her confession. Between the initial denial, the confession, and this attempted retraction, the chronicle marks three distinct stages, without recording the questions and answers in their entirety.
At the trial, the issue was no longer merely the recovery of the body, but the legal characterisation of the infant’s death. The Public Prosecutor, Salvagnac, maintained the charge; Maître Ernest Joffrès appeared for the defence. In the course of the pleadings, the Presiding Judge announced that he would put to the jury, as arising from the evidence heard in court, the alternative question of involuntary manslaughter. The jurors were thus called upon to rule on two distinct qualifications. Their verdict was negative regarding infanticide, but affirmative as to homicide through imprudence; Marie Servat was accordingly sentenced to two years’ imprisonment.
The final line closes the proceedings upon this two-year sentence, following the shift from an alleged capital crime to one of fatal negligence.
Documentary Note: Gazette des Tribunaux, 8 June 1873, printed p. 544, report of the Ariège Assizes, session of 30 April, article entitled "Infanticide". A strict transcription of the case of Jeanne-Marie (Marie) Servat, from the case title to the pronouncement of sentence; the adjacent reports concerning Élisabeth Babi and the Aisne Assizes are omitted. The transcription principally follows the bill of indictment; the narrative carefully distinguishes that official version from the ultimate finding of the jury.