Part 3

These extraordinary precautions against discovery, and the one which appears to have been afterwards resorted to, of obliging him to wear a mask, during his journeys, or when he saw any one, are not wonderful, when we reflect upon the violent breach of the law of nations, which had been committed by his imprisonment. Matthioli, at the time of his arrest, was actually the plenipotentiary[82] of the Duke of Mantua, for concluding a treaty with the King of France; and for that very sovereign to kidnap him and confine him in a dungeon was certainly one of the most flagrant acts of violence that could be committed; one which, if known, would have had the most injurious effects upon the negociations of Lewis with other sovereigns; nay, would probably have indisposed other sovereigns from treating at all with him. It is true the Duke of Mantua was a prince insignificant both in power and character, but, if in this way might was allowed to overcome right, who could possibly tell whose turn might be the next. Besides, it was important for Lewis that the Duke of Mantua should also be kept in good humour, the delivery of Casale not having been effected; nor is it to be supposed that he would have consented to give it up to the French monarch within two years of this period, had he had a suspicion of the way his diplomatic agent and intended prime minister had been treated. The same reasons for concealment existed till the death of Matthioli, since that event happened while both Lewis XIV. and the Duke of Mantua were still alive, which accounts for his confinement continuing to be always solitary and always secret.

The arrest of Matthioli, certainly appears to have been the effect of a vindictive feeling against him in the breast of Lewis himself; for it is impossible to imagine that any minister would have ventured, of his own free-will, upon a step by which so much was to be hazarded, and nothing, in fact, was to be gained. The act is only to be explained in this manner; that the monarch insisted upon his revenge, which the ministers were obliged to gratify; and, at the same time, in order to prevent any ill consequences that might result from it, determined upon burying the whole transaction under the most impenetrable veil of mystery.

The confinement of Matthioli is decidedly one of the deadliest stains that blot the character of Lewis the Fourteenth: for, granting that Matthioli betrayed the trust reposed in him by that monarch, one single act of diplomatic treachery was surely not sufficient to warrant the infliction of the most horrible of all punishments,--of solitary confinement, for four and twenty years, in a dungeon!--It was, however, an act of cruel injustice that was to be expected from the man, who, when the unhappy Fouquet[83] was condemned by the tribunals of his country to exile, himself changed his sentence to that of perpetual imprisonment;--who, to please his mistress, confined his former favourite, Lauzun,[84] for nine years in the fortress of Pignerol, and only then released him in order, by that means, to swindle Mademoiselle de Montpensier[85] out of her fortune, in favour of his bastard, the Duke du Maine;--who shut up so many other persons, guilty only of imaginary crimes, in various prisons, where they died of misery and ill-treatment;--who revoked the Edict of Nantes;--ordered the burning of the Palatinate;--persecuted the saints of Port Royal;--and gloried in the Dragonades, and the war of the Cevennes;--who, in short, whether we regard him as a man or a sovereign, was one of the most hardened, cruel, and tyrannical characters transmitted to us in history. Providence doubtless made use of him as a scourge befitting the crimes of the age he lived in; and, in this point of view, his existence was most useful. Nor is his memory less so; which has been left to us and to all posterity, as a mighty warning of the effects, even in this world, of overweening ambition; and as a melancholy example of the perversion of a proud heart, which “gave not God the glory,” and was therefore abandoned by the Almighty to the effects of its own natural and irretrievable wickedness.

After the arrest of Matthioli, he underwent several interrogatories,[86] in which, in spite of his numerous prevarications, his treachery was still more amply discovered. The examinations were all sent to Louvois by Catinat, who, as soon as they were concluded, left Pignerol, and returned to the court.[87]

At first, Matthioli was, by the direction of Estrades,[88] well-treated in his prison; but this was not by any means the intention of Lewis, and accordingly, we find Louvois writing thus to St. Mars. “It is not the intention of the King that the Sieur de Lestang should be _well-treated_; nor that, except the absolute necessaries of life, you should give him any thing that may make him pass his time agreeably.”[89] Again, in the same strain: “I have nothing to add to what I have already commanded you respecting the severity with which the individual named Lestang must be treated.”[90] And again; “You must keep the individual named Lestang, in the severe confinement I enjoined in my preceding letters, without allowing him to see a physician, unless you know he is in absolute want of one.”[91] These repeated injunctions to the same effect are a proof, how much importance the rancorous Lewis attached to his victim’s being compelled to drink the bitter cup of captivity to the very dregs.

The harshness and hopelessness of his prison seem to have affected the intellects of Matthioli,[92] for after he had been nearly a year confined, St. Mars acquaints Louvois, that “The Sieur de Lestang complains, he is not treated as a man of his quality, and the minister of a great prince ought to be; notwithstanding which, I continue to follow your commands most exactly upon this subject, as well as on all others. I think he is deranged by the way he talks to me, telling me he converses every day with God and his angels;--that they have told him of the death of the Duke of Mantua, and of the Duke of Lorrain;[93] and as an additional proof of his madness, he says, that he has the honour of being the near relation of the King, to whom he wishes to write, to complain of the way in which I treat him. I have not thought it right to give him paper or ink for that purpose, perceiving him not to be in his right senses.”[94]

The unhappy prisoner, in his phrensy and despair, sometimes used very violent language to his keepers, and wrote abusive sentences with charcoal on the walls of his prison; on which account St. Mars ordered his lieutenant, Blainvilliers, to threaten him with punishment, and even to show him a cudgel, with which he was to be beaten, if he did not behave better.

These menaces so far intimidated Matthioli, that a few days afterwards, while Blainvilliers was serving him at dinner, he, in order to propitiate him, took a valuable ring from his finger and offered it to him. Blainvilliers told him he could accept nothing from a prisoner, but that he would deliver it to St. Mars; which he accordingly did.[95] St. Mars estimates the ring at fifty or sixty pistoles: and M. Delort conjectures it to have been the one given to him by Lewis the Fourteenth, during his stay at Paris. St. Mars inquires from Louvois[96] what he is to do in consequence; and the latter returns for answer, that he “must keep the ring, which the Sieur Matthioli has given to the Sieur de Blainvilliers, in order to restore it to him, if it should ever happen that the King ordered him to be set at liberty.”[97]

Matthioli apparently expressed a wish to confess to a priest; and Louvois desires that he may be only allowed to do so once in the year.[98] It appears that St. Mars had at this time in his custody a Jacobin monk, with whose crime, as well as name, we are unacquainted; but in the correspondence of St. Mars and Louvois, he is designated as “the Jacobin in the lower part of the tower.” This man was mad; very possibly had been made so, like Matthioli, by solitary confinement and ill-usage. St. Mars advised the putting Matthioli with him, in order to avoid the necessity of sending for a priest for each prisoner.[99] To this proposal Louvois returned the following answer: “I have been made acquainted, by your letter of the 7th of this month (August 1680), with the proposal you make, to put the Sieur de Lestang with the Jacobin, in order to avoid the necessity of having two priests. The King approves of your project, and you have only to execute it when you please.”[100]

St. Mars, in a letter of the 7th of September, 1680, thus details the results of the execution of his plan:--

“Since you permitted me to put Matthioli with the Jacobin in the lower part of the tower, the aforesaid Matthioli was, for four or five days, in the belief that the Jacobin was a man that I had placed with him to watch his actions. Matthioli, who is almost as mad as the Jacobin, walked about with long strides, with his cloak over his nose, crying out that he was not a dupe, but that he knew more than he would say. The Jacobin, who was always seated on his truckle bed, with his elbows resting upon his knees, looked at him gravely, without listening to him. The Signior Matthioli remained always persuaded that it was a spy that had been placed with him, till he was one day disabused, by the Jacobin’s getting down from his bed, stark naked, and setting himself to preach, without rhyme or reason, till he was tired. I and my lieutenants saw all their manoeuvres through a hole over the door.”[101]

It appears to have been very entertaining to St. Mars and his lieutenants, to witness the ravings of these two unhappy maniacs; and there are probably many gaolers who would experience the same feelings upon a similar occasion: what cannot, however, but strike us with horror, is the fact that there was found a minister, nay, a king, and that king one who piqued himself upon professing the Christian religion,[102] to sanction such a proceeding. It is indeed most painful to think, that power should have been placed in the hands of men, who could abuse it by such needless acts of cruelty.

We have no farther particulars of the state of Matthioli’s mind: but, being more than half-mad at the time he was placed with the Jacobin, who was quite so, it is probable the company of the latter increased and perpetuated his phrensy. It is even not impossible that such may have been the intention of St. Mars, as, while Matthioli continued insane, it was of course more reasonable and plausible to continue the extraordinary rigour of his confinement.

Nor were mental sufferings the only ones which the barbarity of Lewis and his minister obliged Matthioli to undergo. We have before seen, from the letters of Louvois to St. Mars, that the latter was desired generally to treat Matthioli with great severity; afterwards he writes to him upon the subject of his clothing, “You must make the clothes of such sort of people as he is last three or four years.”[103] Some idea may also be formed of the kind of furniture of his dungeon, from the circumstance, mentioned by St. Mars, that, upon the removal of his prisoner from the fort of Exiles to the Island of St. Margaret in 1687, his bed had been sold, because it was so old and broken as not to be worth the carriage; and that all his furniture and linen being added to it, the sum produced by the sale was only thirteen crowns.[104]

It may be worth remarking here that the letter of Louvois, respecting Matthioli’s clothes, is a sufficient answer to the absurd stories with regard to the richness of the lace, &c. worn by the Iron Mask; and the relations from St. Mars himself of his threats to his prisoner, of even corporal punishment, no less disprove the erroneous accounts of the extraordinary respect shown to him.

In the year 1681, St. Mars was offered the government of the citadel of Pignerol, which he declined accepting, for what reasons we are not told: Lewis, who was anxious to recompense his services as a gaoler of State prisoners, then gave him the government of Exiles,[105] a strong fortress and pass near Susa, on the frontier of Piedmont and the Briançonnois, which was vacant by the death of the Duke de Lesdiguières; at the same time augmenting the salary attached to that situation, so as to make it equal to that of the towns in Flanders.[106] Louvois, in a letter dated May 12th, 1681, acquaints St. Mars with his appointment; and informs him that “the two prisoners in the lower part of the tower” are the only ones of those under his care at Pignerol, whom the King wishes to accompany him to Exiles.[107] “The two prisoners in the lower part of the tower,” signify, as we have before seen, Matthioli and the monk.

An additional proof indeed, if any were wanted, that Matthioli was one of the two prisoners conveyed to Exiles, is given in the following extract from a letter of Louvois, dated June 9th, 1681:--“With regard to the effects belonging to the Sieur Matthioli which are in your possession, you will have them taken to Exiles, in order to be given back to him, if ever his Majesty should order him to be set at liberty.”[108]

It is to be remarked, that this is the last time Matthioli is mentioned by name in the correspondence between Louvois and St. Mars--in consequence, it appears, of what is said by the former in his letter before quoted of the 12th of May, where he desires a list of the names of all the prisoners then under the guard of St. Mars to be sent to him, and adds--“with regard to the two who are in the lower part of the tower, you need only designate them in that manner, without adding any thing else.”[109] This precaution was evidently enjoined lest the list should fall into other hands, while it also shows that the necessity for concealment was still considered as strong as ever.

This is also proved by the precautions ordered to be taken during the journey of the two prisoners, lest they should be seen or spoken to by any one; and by the repeated orders for their strict confinement.--“The intention of his Majesty is, that, as soon as the room at Exiles, which you shall judge the most proper for the secure keeping of the two prisoners in the lower part of the tower, shall be in a state to receive them, you should send them out of the citadel of Pignerol in a litter, and conduct them there under the escort of your troop.”[110] “His Majesty expects that you will guard the two before-mentioned prisoners, with the same exactitude you have made use of hitherto.”[111] To these instructions St. Mars returned an answer in the same strain, dated from Pignerol, as he was on the point of setting off for Exiles.--“In order that the prisoners may not be seen (at Exiles), they will not leave their chamber when they hear mass; and in order that they may be kept the more securely, one of my lieutenants will sleep above them, and there will be two sentinels night and day, who will watch the whole round of the tower, without its being possible for them and the prisoners to see and to speak to one another, or even to hear any thing of one another. They will be the soldiers of my company, who will be always the sentinels over the prisoners. There is only a confessor, about whom I have my doubts; but if you do not disapprove, I will give them the curate of Exiles instead, who is a good man, and very old; whom I will forbid, on the part of his Majesty, to inquire who these prisoners are, or their names, or what they have been, or to speak of them in any way, or to receive from them by word of mouth, or by writing, either communications or notes.”[112]

Before St. Mars removed finally to Exiles, he went there to inspect the fortress, leaving his prisoners under the guard of one of his lieutenants; which is here mentioned to show the falseness of the idea that he never quitted his mysterious prisoner. Louvois enjoined him before he left them, to arrange the guarding of his prisoners in such a manner, that no accident might happen to them during his short absence; and “that they might have no intercourse with any one, any more than they had had during the time they had been under his charge.”[113] Subsequently Louvois desired him not to be more than one night at a time absent from Pignerol.[114]

St. Mars found certain repairs to be necessary to that part of the fortress of Exiles, which he deemed the most proper residence for “the two prisoners in the lower part of the tower.” He demanded money for this purpose, and Louvois returned for answer that the King accorded him a thousand crowns, on condition he kept the grant a profound secret, and gave out that the repairs he was making, were at his own expense.[115] This again was evidently for the purpose of concealing from the neighbourhood, that any prisoners of importance were to be removed from Pignerol to Exiles.

The repairs of the tower at Exiles first delayed the removal of St. Mars, and afterwards he was ordered to stay some time longer at Pignerol, in order to receive Catinat, who was again sent there secretly, again under the assumed name of Richemont, and again for the purpose of taking possession of Casale.[116] This time the King of France was more fortunate than he had been in 1679, as Casale was actually sold to him by the Duke of Mantua, in the autumn of this year, 1681.

Finally, it appears that St. Mars and his prisoners did not move to Exiles till late in the autumn of 1681. About this time, St. Mars apparently requested permission to see and converse with Matthioli occasionally, for Louvois writes, “this word is only to acknowledge the receipt of your letter. The King does not disapprove of your visiting from time to time the last prisoner who has been placed in your charge, after he shall have been established in his new prison, and shall have left that where he is at present confined.”[117] It is rather curious to observe, from this document, that St. Mars was permitted to visit his prisoner at Exiles, but not while he continued at Pignerol.

The first communication of St. Mars to Louvois after his arrival at Exiles, which has been published, is dated December the 4th, 1681,[118] and relates to the sickness of his prisoners: and the next is a letter, dated March 11th, 1682, containing a similar detail to those already alluded to, of the precautions he took for the security and solitary confinement of his two prisoners. He begins, by intimating that he has again received a charge from Louvois to that effect, and that he continues to guard his two prisoners as severely and exactly as he has ever done, and as he did formerly “Messrs. Fouquet and Lauzun, who could not boast that they had either sent or received any news, while they were in confinement.” He adds, that the two prisoners can hear the people who pass along the road at the foot of their prison, but that they cannot be heard by any one; that, in the same way, they can see the people who are on the hill opposite their windows, but cannot themselves be seen, on account of the bars placed across their room; that there are two sentinels always watching them, and who have also orders to prevent the passengers stopping under their windows--and that his own room, being joined to the tower, and commanding a view of the sentinels, the latter are by this means always kept alert. That, in the inside of the tower, he has made a partition, which prevents the priest, who says mass, from seeing the prisoners, as well as the servants who bring their food--which is afterwards carried in to them by his lieutenant; who, together with himself, the confessor, and a physician from Pragelas, a town six leagues distant, are the only persons who speak to them; the physician only being allowed to do so in the presence of St. Mars himself. He adds, that equal precautions are taken with regard to their linen, and other necessaries.[119]

From this period, we hear no more of St. Mars and his prisoners in the published documents, for above three years; his next communication to Louvois being dated Dec. 23d, 1685; in which he informs him that his prisoners are still ill, and in a course of medicine. By the expression _still_ being here used, it would seem as if their malady had been of considerable duration. He continues, “they are, however, perfectly tranquil.”[120] The mention of their present tranquillity is certainly an indication that their insanity had continued, at least at intervals.

Shortly after this, the Jacobin[121] died. Matthioli continued ill; and St. Mars, also finding his own health failing him, he[122] became convinced that the air of Exiles was unwholesome, and petitioned in consequence for a change of government.[123] Lewis upon this appointed him, in 1687, to that of the Islands of St. Margaret and St. Honorat, on the coast of Provence, near Antibes, and ordered him, as before, to take Matthioli with him.

As in the case of his removal to Exiles, so, upon the present occasion, St. Mars went first to look at and prepare the prison at St. Margaret, before he conveyed his prisoner there.[124] Previously, however, to leaving him for that purpose, he writes to Louvois, to assure him once more of the secrecy and security with which he is confined--“I have given such good orders for the guarding of my prisoner, that I can answer for his entire security; as well as for his not now, nor ever, holding any intercourse with my Lieutenant, whom I have forbidden to speak to him, which is punctually obeyed.”[125]

He afterwards writes again to the same Minister, from the Island of St. Margaret, “I promise to conduct my prisoner here in all security, without any one’s seeing or speaking to him. He shall not hear mass after he leaves Exiles, till he is lodged in the prison which is preparing for him here, to which a chapel is attached. I pledge my honour to you for the entire security of my prisoner.”[126]

St. Mars accordingly returned for Matthioli, and conveyed him to his new abode, in the manner he had proposed doing, in his letter to Louvois, of January 20th, 1687--“In a chair, covered with oil-cloth, into which there would enter a sufficiency of air, without its being possible for any one to see or speak to him during the journey, not even the soldiers, whom I shall select to be near the chair.”[127]

In spite of the expectations of St. Mars that, in this mode of conveyance, his prisoner would have air enough, it appears that he complained of the want of it, and soon fell ill in consequence. This is mentioned in a letter of St. Mars, dated May 3d, 1687, giving an account of their arrival at the Island of St. Margaret, and is the last of the correspondence between Louvois and St. Mars respecting Matthioli: “I arrived here the 30th of last month. I was only twelve days on the journey, in consequence of the illness of my prisoner, occasioned, as he said, by not having as much air as he wished. I can assure you that no one has seen him, and that the manner in which I have guarded and conducted him during all the journey, makes every body try to conjecture who my prisoner is.”[128]

It was probably, during this journey, that St. Mars first made use of a mask to hide the features of Matthioli.[129] Not as has been erroneously supposed a mask made of iron, which it will be evident, upon the slightest reflection, could not have been borne upon the face for any long continuance of time, but one of black velvet,[130] strengthened with whalebone, and fastened behind the head with a padlock, which did not prevent the prisoner from eating and drinking, or impede his respiration.[131]