When was absinthe banned?
Absinthe was first banned in the Congo Free State in 1898, then in Brazil and in Belgium in 1906, in Holland in 1908, in Switzerland in
1910, in the USA in 1912 and finally in France – distracted and shell-shocked by the first defeats of World War I - in 1915. In the end this
magical and historic elixir that had once captivated, delighted and inspired a nation, went out not with a bang, but with the merest whimper.
What happened after the ban?
Most of the great absinthe-producing firms went bankrupt, or amalgamated, or switched to producing pastis. Some firms transferred their
production to Spain, where absinthe was never banned, and where it continued to be made on a small scale for the next century. A remnant
of the Pernod company made absinthe in Tarragona from 1918 until the mid '60's, although by 1950 the product had already deviated
quite considerably from the pre-ban French original.
In the Val de Travers region of Switzerland, production of the local uncoloured "Le Bleue" went underground, and fairly large scale
bootlegging operatiosn continued up to 2005, when absinthe was once again made legal. In many countries though absinthe was never
formally prohibited – it just faded from sight.
Absinthe has never been banned in the UK, nor in much of Southern and Eastern Europe,
The modern absinthe revival
Although absinthe continued to be made on a small scale in Spain, its modern revival really has its origins in the collapse of the Iron
Curtain, and Czechoslovakia’s 1987 “Velvet Revolution”.
Radomill Hill, an entrepreneurial Czech distiller, having inherited from his father a small distillery dating from the 1920’s, decided, with the
return of a free market economy, to start producing absinthe. Hill claimed that he based his new product on an old family recipe, and that the
distillery produced absinthe prior to the Communist occupation. Hill's "absinth" was aggressively marketed in the UK in conjunction with
the so-called Bohemian absinthe ritual, which involves soaking the sugar cube with absinthe, and then setting it alight, before plunging the
caramelised sugar into the glass - a necessity with Hills and many other Czech absinthes, which, since they contain little if any anise, don't
louche. Initially this was claimed - absurdly - as an historically authentic alternative to the traditional French ritual (in reality it arose in Prague
during the early 1990's). It's unfortunate that this travesty of the true absinthe ritual has been given widespread currency through it's
depiction in popular films such as Baz Luhrman's "Moulin Rouge".
It was common practice in the early 20th century for jobbing distilleries to make a wide range of house-brand liqueurs for their local market
and for use in cocktails. These were often only crude approximations of the real thing, usually made from purchased essences. So a
distillery might have made a curacao, a creme de menthe, a kirschwasser, a "Chartreuse", an anisette, a "Grand Marnier" etc. It's possible
that Hills did this, and that some kind of absinthe or absinthe substitute was included in their list. A price list from an Austrian distillery in the
1930's that includes "absynth" is known, and absinthe substitutes were produced in the US, the UK and in Denmark in the 1950's.
But no serious evidence of extensive pre-1990 Czech absinthe production has ever been produced - no pricelists, catalogues, labels,
bottles, posters, invoices, nothing whatsoever. It seems reasonable to assume that if anything like this existed on any sort of scale, it would
have turned up by now.
So one can say with near certainty that there was no widespread Czech "absinthe tradition" prior to the launch of the Hills product. As to
whether absinthe or absinthe-like products once existed there in a relatively minor way, they may well have, it's hard to prove a negative.
Notwithstanding all this, sales of the blue-green Hills "absinth" took off in the early 1990's , especially in the UK, where an innovative
publicity campaign soon made absinthe a must-have drink in trendy nightclubs and bars. Other manufacturers in Czechoslovakia and
elsewhere soon followed suite, and today this style of "absinth" is made by many eastern European and German products. While some of
these manufacturers present their products honestly, a regrettably high percentage sell their wares on the basis of dubious claims of drug
like allure, or supposed aphrodisiac effects. For more information on Czech-style absinth, read The Wormwood Society's What's Wrong
With Czech-style Absinthe?, or visit Oxygenee's blog.
The commercial success of Hills and its followers had though an unexpected positive side-effect: the tentative rebirth of the French and
Swiss absinthe industry. In 1988 the EU adopted a permitted thujone standard of 10mg/l for absinthe, and 35mg/l for bitters (which
effectively includes most absinthes as well). This was followed a general relaxation of other restrictive legislation in both France and
Switzerland, and there are now a considerable number of French and Swiss absinthe producers. Unfortunately many of them produce
absinthes of dubious quality - some are a travesty of what true absinthe should be, with almost no traditional herbal and floral character.
Recognizably authentic absinthe is however made by a few small French and Swiss firms - Claude Bugnon, Kubler, Matter-Luginbuhl and
the old firm of Emile Pernot in Pontarlier. Some of the best modern absinthes may be obtained online from our own Absinthe Classics site
- we sell both the highly rated Doubs Mystique Absinthe, the Roquette 1797 from Archive Spirits (both made at the Emile Pernot distillery),
and the superb Jade Absinthes, made at Combier using Pernod Fils' original alambics, by New Orleans scientist and absinthe historian
Ted Breaux, one of the pioneers of the absinthe renaissance.
In 2007 an apparent relaxation of the US absinthe ban came into effect, with the determination that spirits with less than 10ppm of thujone
would be regarded as "thujone free", and that use of the word "absinthe" would once again be permitted . 10ppm is, in effect, a similar level
to the EU standard of 10mg/l. A full account of the process leading up to the recent re-legalization in the US can be found here. Stringent
labelling regulations are enforced, and absinthes with more than 10mg but less than 35mg of thujone, which are legal in the EU, are still
not legal in the US.
Absinthe was first banned in the Congo Free State in 1898, then in Brazil and in Belgium in 1906, in Holland in 1908, in Switzerland in
1910, in the USA in 1912 and finally in France – distracted and shell-shocked by the first defeats of World War I - in 1915. In the end this
magical and historic elixir that had once captivated, delighted and inspired a nation, went out not with a bang, but with the merest whimper.
What happened after the ban?
Most of the great absinthe-producing firms went bankrupt, or amalgamated, or switched to producing pastis. Some firms transferred their
production to Spain, where absinthe was never banned, and where it continued to be made on a small scale for the next century. A remnant
of the Pernod company made absinthe in Tarragona from 1918 until the mid '60's, although by 1950 the product had already deviated
quite considerably from the pre-ban French original.
In the Val de Travers region of Switzerland, production of the local uncoloured "Le Bleue" went underground, and fairly large scale
bootlegging operatiosn continued up to 2005, when absinthe was once again made legal. In many countries though absinthe was never
formally prohibited – it just faded from sight.
Absinthe has never been banned in the UK, nor in much of Southern and Eastern Europe,
The modern absinthe revival
Although absinthe continued to be made on a small scale in Spain, its modern revival really has its origins in the collapse of the Iron
Curtain, and Czechoslovakia’s 1987 “Velvet Revolution”.
Radomill Hill, an entrepreneurial Czech distiller, having inherited from his father a small distillery dating from the 1920’s, decided, with the
return of a free market economy, to start producing absinthe. Hill claimed that he based his new product on an old family recipe, and that the
distillery produced absinthe prior to the Communist occupation. Hill's "absinth" was aggressively marketed in the UK in conjunction with
the so-called Bohemian absinthe ritual, which involves soaking the sugar cube with absinthe, and then setting it alight, before plunging the
caramelised sugar into the glass - a necessity with Hills and many other Czech absinthes, which, since they contain little if any anise, don't
louche. Initially this was claimed - absurdly - as an historically authentic alternative to the traditional French ritual (in reality it arose in Prague
during the early 1990's). It's unfortunate that this travesty of the true absinthe ritual has been given widespread currency through it's
depiction in popular films such as Baz Luhrman's "Moulin Rouge".
It was common practice in the early 20th century for jobbing distilleries to make a wide range of house-brand liqueurs for their local market
and for use in cocktails. These were often only crude approximations of the real thing, usually made from purchased essences. So a
distillery might have made a curacao, a creme de menthe, a kirschwasser, a "Chartreuse", an anisette, a "Grand Marnier" etc. It's possible
that Hills did this, and that some kind of absinthe or absinthe substitute was included in their list. A price list from an Austrian distillery in the
1930's that includes "absynth" is known, and absinthe substitutes were produced in the US, the UK and in Denmark in the 1950's.
But no serious evidence of extensive pre-1990 Czech absinthe production has ever been produced - no pricelists, catalogues, labels,
bottles, posters, invoices, nothing whatsoever. It seems reasonable to assume that if anything like this existed on any sort of scale, it would
have turned up by now.
So one can say with near certainty that there was no widespread Czech "absinthe tradition" prior to the launch of the Hills product. As to
whether absinthe or absinthe-like products once existed there in a relatively minor way, they may well have, it's hard to prove a negative.
Notwithstanding all this, sales of the blue-green Hills "absinth" took off in the early 1990's , especially in the UK, where an innovative
publicity campaign soon made absinthe a must-have drink in trendy nightclubs and bars. Other manufacturers in Czechoslovakia and
elsewhere soon followed suite, and today this style of "absinth" is made by many eastern European and German products. While some of
these manufacturers present their products honestly, a regrettably high percentage sell their wares on the basis of dubious claims of drug
like allure, or supposed aphrodisiac effects. For more information on Czech-style absinth, read The Wormwood Society's What's Wrong
With Czech-style Absinthe?, or visit Oxygenee's blog.
The commercial success of Hills and its followers had though an unexpected positive side-effect: the tentative rebirth of the French and
Swiss absinthe industry. In 1988 the EU adopted a permitted thujone standard of 10mg/l for absinthe, and 35mg/l for bitters (which
effectively includes most absinthes as well). This was followed a general relaxation of other restrictive legislation in both France and
Switzerland, and there are now a considerable number of French and Swiss absinthe producers. Unfortunately many of them produce
absinthes of dubious quality - some are a travesty of what true absinthe should be, with almost no traditional herbal and floral character.
Recognizably authentic absinthe is however made by a few small French and Swiss firms - Claude Bugnon, Kubler, Matter-Luginbuhl and
the old firm of Emile Pernot in Pontarlier. Some of the best modern absinthes may be obtained online from our own Absinthe Classics site
- we sell both the highly rated Doubs Mystique Absinthe, the Roquette 1797 from Archive Spirits (both made at the Emile Pernot distillery),
and the superb Jade Absinthes, made at Combier using Pernod Fils' original alambics, by New Orleans scientist and absinthe historian
Ted Breaux, one of the pioneers of the absinthe renaissance.
In 2007 an apparent relaxation of the US absinthe ban came into effect, with the determination that spirits with less than 10ppm of thujone
would be regarded as "thujone free", and that use of the word "absinthe" would once again be permitted . 10ppm is, in effect, a similar level
to the EU standard of 10mg/l. A full account of the process leading up to the recent re-legalization in the US can be found here. Stringent
labelling regulations are enforced, and absinthes with more than 10mg but less than 35mg of thujone, which are legal in the EU, are still
not legal in the US.
| Oxygénée's Absinthe History & FAQ VI |
| Welcome to the most detailed, accurate and comprehensive Absinthe FAQ on the web. This information is constantly being updated and expanded. Please don't hesitate to contact Oxygénée with suggestions for corrections, improvements or additions. |
FAQ I
What is absinthe?
How is absinthe drunk?
FAQ II
What gives absinthe its “secondary effects”?
What is wormwood?
What is thujone?
Which modern drinks are related to absinthe?
What does absinthe taste like?
Is it very bitter?
Where does the word "absinthe" come from?
What is absinthe?
How is absinthe drunk?
FAQ II
What gives absinthe its “secondary effects”?
What is wormwood?
What is thujone?
Which modern drinks are related to absinthe?
What does absinthe taste like?
Is it very bitter?
Where does the word "absinthe" come from?
FAQ IV
How did absinthe influence artists like Manet,
van Gogh and Picasso, and writers like Verlaine,
Rimbaud, Wilde and Hemingway?
How did absinthe influence artists like Manet,
van Gogh and Picasso, and writers like Verlaine,
Rimbaud, Wilde and Hemingway?
FAQ V
Why was absinthe banned?
What was absinthism?
Who was Dr Valentin Magnan?
FAQ VI
What were the Lanfray murders?
When was absinthe banned?
What happened after the ban?
The modern absinthe revival
Why was absinthe banned?
What was absinthism?
Who was Dr Valentin Magnan?
FAQ VI
What were the Lanfray murders?
When was absinthe banned?
What happened after the ban?
The modern absinthe revival
FAQ III
What is the history of absinthe?
Who invented it?
Which were the best quality absinthes?
What did they cost?
What is the history of absinthe?
Who invented it?
Which were the best quality absinthes?
What did they cost?
What were the Lanfray murders?
Like a vice slowly tightening, the pressure to ban absinthe inexorably increased. The last straw was a series of particularly brutal family
murders which were – largely unfairly – blamed on absinthe consumption. The most notorious of these was the celebrated Lanfray case,
which riveted the European press in 1905.
Maurice Zolotow, in a 1971 article, takes up the story:
"On August 28 1905, Jean Lanfray, a vineyard worker and day laborer in the little village of Commugny, Switzerland, awoke at 4.30 in the
morning. He began his day with his usual eye opener: a shot of absinthe, to which he added three parts of water. Before the day was over,
Lanfray would commit a series of horrible murders and, ultimately, he would bring about the downfall of a $100,000,000 industry. Lanfray
was a tough, burly peasant. He weighed 180 pounds. He was almost six feet tall and was in robust health. He was a Frenchman by birth.
He had served his three years of military service with the Chasseurs Alpins regiment of the French Army. There he had learned two things:
how to kill and how to drink absinthe.
At that time, absinthe was the best-selling before-dinner drink in much of the civilized world. It was - and is - an anise-flavored liquor of
high alcoholic strength, preferably 136 proof. It is made by steeping various herbs in neutral grape spirits for eight days and then
redistilling the concoction. Among the 15 herbs in absinthe are the dried flowers and leaves of wormwood, a plant that grows about three
feet high and is botanically related to our South-Western sagebrush. The German word for wormwood is Wermut, or vermouth; there are
small amounts of wormwood oil in vermouth. The Latin for wormwood is Artemisia absinthium, and its oil is known as absinthol, hence the
name of this elixir. For many years, a considerable number of French physicians and biologists had regarded the wormwood plant as
deadly poisonous.
On what was to be a most eventful day in the history of drinking, Lanfray, 31, got dressed . He lived with his wife and two children on the
second floor of a farmhouse. His parents and his brother, Paul, lived downstairs. Lanfray had a second absinthe and water. He wiped his
lips. He told his wife to wax his boots while he went about his chores, as he planned to go mushroom hunting in the woods the next
morning. His wife grumbled something or other. During the past year, the couple had been constantly quarreling - about money, about
her in-laws, about his drinking habits.
"Don't forget to wax my boots," Lanfray repeated. "And make it good, you hear?"
He went to the barn and watered the cows and let them out into the pasture. He returned and had some coffee and bread. The children -
Rose, four and a half, and Blanche, one and a half - were still asleep. Lanfray went downstairs. He joined his father and brother. The three
Lanfrays then began walking to the vineyards near the village where they were employed. En route, they passed the local auberge and
Jean, a man who could not go very long without slaking his awesome thirst, went in. It was about 5:30 A.M. (a Swiss law- enforcement
official, as we shall see, compiled a meticulous record of Lanfrey's alcoholic intake that fatal day) and our man had, first, a creme de
menthe with water, and then a cognac and soda. He worked until noon. He had brought bread, cheese and sausage for lunch. With the
food, he downed two or three glasses of chambertin . (This was not the famous Burgundian chambertin so prized by wine experts but a
local homemade wine made from the district's pinot noir grapes and known in the patois as piquette.) Jean Lanfray's piquette was
celebrated for being the strongest in the area. Lanfray could have paraphrased Will Rogers' famous remark about men and said that he
had never met a drink he didn't like.
At three P.M., he took a wine break - two more glasses of his piquette. At 4:15, he accepted another glass of red wine offered by a
neighbor. At 4:30, the day's work over, Lanfray, his father and his brother dropped into a cafe and he had a cup of black coffee laced with
brandy. Later, when the police and psychiatrists delved into his behavior pattern, they found that he drank every day two to two and a half
liters of vin ordinaire and two to two and a half liters of the stronger piquette - about six quarts in all. Besides this, he consumed several
brandies and cordials plus one or two absinthes a day.
It was then about five P.M. Jean Lanfray and his father went home. There, they each polished off a liter of piquette. Jean's wife was in a
bad mood. Besides having two small children to look after, she had to clean the house, cook the meals and help out with the farm chores.
She asked her husband to milk the cows. They had a herd of 20 and sold the milk to a local creamery. Lanfray, having put in a hard day
of drinking and digging, was not up to milking cows. He ordered his wife to go to hell and milk the cows herself. Then he demanded hot
coffee. She put the coffeepot on the stove. She did not say anything. In those days, women who knew what was good for them didn't get
sassy with their husbands. Lanfray laced the coffee with a healthy slug of marc, a powerful brandy he made himself. His wife went outside.
Sometime later, she returned and said she was going to take the milk to the creamery. Her husband complained that the coffee had not
been hot enough. She shrugged. Suddenly, he noticed his boots under the sink - unwaxed. He gave her a further piece of his mind. His
father started to leave, not wanting any part of this family quarrel. He said goodbye to his daughter-in-law. She shrugged insolently.
Lanfray fils shouted that she should behave more politely to the old man. She shrugged again. He was enraged. He began yelling. And
then she yelled back.
"Shut up!" he barked.
She lost her temper: "I'd like to see you make me!"
You would, would you?" he snarled. He went and got his old Vetterli rifle, a long-barreled (33.2 inches), bolt-action repeater that took a
magazine of 12 cartridges.
"Don't do anything foolish," the old man pleaded.
"You stay out of this, Poppa, unless you want trouble yourself!"
Lanfray raised his Vetterli, took aim and shot his wife in the head. She fell and died almost instantly. The old man ran out, shouting, "Au
secours, secours!" The oldest daughter ran into the room. She screamed. Jean shot her in the chest. She fell, mortally wounded. Next, he
went to the cradle where little Blanche was sleeping. He killed the infant. Then he set out to take his own life. He held out the rifle and tried
to aim it at his head, but it was too long. He got a string and tied it to the trigger, passed it behind the trigger bar, then held the free end of
the string with one hand and the rifle by the barrel with the other hand. He was thus able to draw a bead on his own head, but he missed
his brain; the bullet lodged in his lower jaw. Bleeding profusely, Lanfray tucked the corpse of his youngest girl under his arm. He went into
the barn. He lay down on the ground and fell into a deep sleep, where the police found him and took him into custody. He was "dazed and
incoherent," according to their account. He was taken first to the hospital in nearby Nyon, where the bullet was removed from his jaw. He
fell asleep again at once. Later, he was taken to see his three victims in their coffins. Nurse Marie Blaser said that the murderer wept and
moaned over and over, "It is not me who did this. Tell me, O God, please tell me that I have not done this. I loved my wife and children so
much." Lanfray insisted he did not remember anything about the murders.
On September 3, 1905, a Sunday, the citizens of Commugny held a mass meeting in the schoolhouse. The villagers, horrified by the
crime, learned after an autopsy on Mme. Lanfray that she was four months pregnant with a male fetus. The community had to find a
scapegoat. Absinthe became that scapegoat.
At the meeting, speaker after speaker denounced the liquor. "Absinthe," declaimed the mayor, "is the principal cause of a series of bloody
crimes in our country." The citizens voted to petition the local legislature to ban absinthe in their canton of Vaud. Within a few days, 82,000
people signed—including women, who did not then have the right to vote."
The major absinthe producers, realising too late that their businesses and livelihoods were in jeopardy, fought a desperate rearguard
action, organising counter petitions, and promoting the health benefits of their absinthes. There was an increasing vogue for oxygen
enriched "absinthe oxygénée", and many brands were sold under the designation "absinthe hygenique".
Some producers - Bailly and Cousin Jeune amongst them - produced absinthes claimed to be thujone free - "absinthe sans-thuj" - but
these seem never to have caught on. Of course the science behind the claims of the manufacturers was as dubious and corrupt as that
of the temperance movement, and was often mocked in the satirical journals of the day.
Crucially, although in some cases financially powerful, the major absinthe producers lacked political influence in the Chamber of
Deputies (where large hereditary landowners - often grape-growers - were disproportionately well represented). The fact that the
management of the biggest producer, Pernod Fils, were of Jewish origin (Arthur and Edmond Vielle-Picard, who purchased a controlling
interest in the company in 1894, were half-Jewish) in a France still reeling from the anti-semitism exposed by the Dreyfus affair, further
aggravated the situation.
The popular press, led by the left-wing Parisian daily Le Matin was virulently pro-prohibition. The momentum to ban the drink was now
unstoppable.
Like a vice slowly tightening, the pressure to ban absinthe inexorably increased. The last straw was a series of particularly brutal family
murders which were – largely unfairly – blamed on absinthe consumption. The most notorious of these was the celebrated Lanfray case,
which riveted the European press in 1905.
Maurice Zolotow, in a 1971 article, takes up the story:
"On August 28 1905, Jean Lanfray, a vineyard worker and day laborer in the little village of Commugny, Switzerland, awoke at 4.30 in the
morning. He began his day with his usual eye opener: a shot of absinthe, to which he added three parts of water. Before the day was over,
Lanfray would commit a series of horrible murders and, ultimately, he would bring about the downfall of a $100,000,000 industry. Lanfray
was a tough, burly peasant. He weighed 180 pounds. He was almost six feet tall and was in robust health. He was a Frenchman by birth.
He had served his three years of military service with the Chasseurs Alpins regiment of the French Army. There he had learned two things:
how to kill and how to drink absinthe.
At that time, absinthe was the best-selling before-dinner drink in much of the civilized world. It was - and is - an anise-flavored liquor of
high alcoholic strength, preferably 136 proof. It is made by steeping various herbs in neutral grape spirits for eight days and then
redistilling the concoction. Among the 15 herbs in absinthe are the dried flowers and leaves of wormwood, a plant that grows about three
feet high and is botanically related to our South-Western sagebrush. The German word for wormwood is Wermut, or vermouth; there are
small amounts of wormwood oil in vermouth. The Latin for wormwood is Artemisia absinthium, and its oil is known as absinthol, hence the
name of this elixir. For many years, a considerable number of French physicians and biologists had regarded the wormwood plant as
deadly poisonous.
On what was to be a most eventful day in the history of drinking, Lanfray, 31, got dressed . He lived with his wife and two children on the
second floor of a farmhouse. His parents and his brother, Paul, lived downstairs. Lanfray had a second absinthe and water. He wiped his
lips. He told his wife to wax his boots while he went about his chores, as he planned to go mushroom hunting in the woods the next
morning. His wife grumbled something or other. During the past year, the couple had been constantly quarreling - about money, about
her in-laws, about his drinking habits.
"Don't forget to wax my boots," Lanfray repeated. "And make it good, you hear?"
He went to the barn and watered the cows and let them out into the pasture. He returned and had some coffee and bread. The children -
Rose, four and a half, and Blanche, one and a half - were still asleep. Lanfray went downstairs. He joined his father and brother. The three
Lanfrays then began walking to the vineyards near the village where they were employed. En route, they passed the local auberge and
Jean, a man who could not go very long without slaking his awesome thirst, went in. It was about 5:30 A.M. (a Swiss law- enforcement
official, as we shall see, compiled a meticulous record of Lanfrey's alcoholic intake that fatal day) and our man had, first, a creme de
menthe with water, and then a cognac and soda. He worked until noon. He had brought bread, cheese and sausage for lunch. With the
food, he downed two or three glasses of chambertin . (This was not the famous Burgundian chambertin so prized by wine experts but a
local homemade wine made from the district's pinot noir grapes and known in the patois as piquette.) Jean Lanfray's piquette was
celebrated for being the strongest in the area. Lanfray could have paraphrased Will Rogers' famous remark about men and said that he
had never met a drink he didn't like.
At three P.M., he took a wine break - two more glasses of his piquette. At 4:15, he accepted another glass of red wine offered by a
neighbor. At 4:30, the day's work over, Lanfray, his father and his brother dropped into a cafe and he had a cup of black coffee laced with
brandy. Later, when the police and psychiatrists delved into his behavior pattern, they found that he drank every day two to two and a half
liters of vin ordinaire and two to two and a half liters of the stronger piquette - about six quarts in all. Besides this, he consumed several
brandies and cordials plus one or two absinthes a day.
It was then about five P.M. Jean Lanfray and his father went home. There, they each polished off a liter of piquette. Jean's wife was in a
bad mood. Besides having two small children to look after, she had to clean the house, cook the meals and help out with the farm chores.
She asked her husband to milk the cows. They had a herd of 20 and sold the milk to a local creamery. Lanfray, having put in a hard day
of drinking and digging, was not up to milking cows. He ordered his wife to go to hell and milk the cows herself. Then he demanded hot
coffee. She put the coffeepot on the stove. She did not say anything. In those days, women who knew what was good for them didn't get
sassy with their husbands. Lanfray laced the coffee with a healthy slug of marc, a powerful brandy he made himself. His wife went outside.
Sometime later, she returned and said she was going to take the milk to the creamery. Her husband complained that the coffee had not
been hot enough. She shrugged. Suddenly, he noticed his boots under the sink - unwaxed. He gave her a further piece of his mind. His
father started to leave, not wanting any part of this family quarrel. He said goodbye to his daughter-in-law. She shrugged insolently.
Lanfray fils shouted that she should behave more politely to the old man. She shrugged again. He was enraged. He began yelling. And
then she yelled back.
"Shut up!" he barked.
She lost her temper: "I'd like to see you make me!"
You would, would you?" he snarled. He went and got his old Vetterli rifle, a long-barreled (33.2 inches), bolt-action repeater that took a
magazine of 12 cartridges.
"Don't do anything foolish," the old man pleaded.
"You stay out of this, Poppa, unless you want trouble yourself!"
Lanfray raised his Vetterli, took aim and shot his wife in the head. She fell and died almost instantly. The old man ran out, shouting, "Au
secours, secours!" The oldest daughter ran into the room. She screamed. Jean shot her in the chest. She fell, mortally wounded. Next, he
went to the cradle where little Blanche was sleeping. He killed the infant. Then he set out to take his own life. He held out the rifle and tried
to aim it at his head, but it was too long. He got a string and tied it to the trigger, passed it behind the trigger bar, then held the free end of
the string with one hand and the rifle by the barrel with the other hand. He was thus able to draw a bead on his own head, but he missed
his brain; the bullet lodged in his lower jaw. Bleeding profusely, Lanfray tucked the corpse of his youngest girl under his arm. He went into
the barn. He lay down on the ground and fell into a deep sleep, where the police found him and took him into custody. He was "dazed and
incoherent," according to their account. He was taken first to the hospital in nearby Nyon, where the bullet was removed from his jaw. He
fell asleep again at once. Later, he was taken to see his three victims in their coffins. Nurse Marie Blaser said that the murderer wept and
moaned over and over, "It is not me who did this. Tell me, O God, please tell me that I have not done this. I loved my wife and children so
much." Lanfray insisted he did not remember anything about the murders.
On September 3, 1905, a Sunday, the citizens of Commugny held a mass meeting in the schoolhouse. The villagers, horrified by the
crime, learned after an autopsy on Mme. Lanfray that she was four months pregnant with a male fetus. The community had to find a
scapegoat. Absinthe became that scapegoat.
At the meeting, speaker after speaker denounced the liquor. "Absinthe," declaimed the mayor, "is the principal cause of a series of bloody
crimes in our country." The citizens voted to petition the local legislature to ban absinthe in their canton of Vaud. Within a few days, 82,000
people signed—including women, who did not then have the right to vote."
The major absinthe producers, realising too late that their businesses and livelihoods were in jeopardy, fought a desperate rearguard
action, organising counter petitions, and promoting the health benefits of their absinthes. There was an increasing vogue for oxygen
enriched "absinthe oxygénée", and many brands were sold under the designation "absinthe hygenique".
Some producers - Bailly and Cousin Jeune amongst them - produced absinthes claimed to be thujone free - "absinthe sans-thuj" - but
these seem never to have caught on. Of course the science behind the claims of the manufacturers was as dubious and corrupt as that
of the temperance movement, and was often mocked in the satirical journals of the day.
Crucially, although in some cases financially powerful, the major absinthe producers lacked political influence in the Chamber of
Deputies (where large hereditary landowners - often grape-growers - were disproportionately well represented). The fact that the
management of the biggest producer, Pernod Fils, were of Jewish origin (Arthur and Edmond Vielle-Picard, who purchased a controlling
interest in the company in 1894, were half-Jewish) in a France still reeling from the anti-semitism exposed by the Dreyfus affair, further
aggravated the situation.
The popular press, led by the left-wing Parisian daily Le Matin was virulently pro-prohibition. The momentum to ban the drink was now
unstoppable.
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