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]
The identity of Matthioli with the prisoner known by the name
of “the Iron Mask,” is here very satisfactorily confirmed by
circumstantial evidence. We have seen that Matthioli and the Jacobin
were placed together at Pignerol; we have seen that they were
designated as “the two prisoners in the lower part of the tower;” we
have seen that “the two prisoners in the lower part of the tower”
were the only ones who accompanied St. Mars when his government
was transferred to Exiles; we have seen the death of the Jacobin
at the latter place; and now we find St. Mars conveying a single
prisoner, designated as “_the prisoner_,” with him to St. Margaret,
with a repetition of the same precautions and of the same secrecy
as on former occasions, to which are added the celebrated Mask. Who
could this prisoner be but Matthioli? It is also observable, that
in all the various accounts of the Iron Mask, though the dates are
made to vary, he is always said to have been originally confined at
Pignerol, subsequently at the island of St. Margaret, and finally to
have accompanied St. Mars to the Bastille.
The prison of Matthioli, at the Island of St. Margaret, was a room
lighted by a single window to the north, pierced in a very thick
wall, guarded by bars of iron, and looking upon the sea.[132] During
his residence in this place, his valet, who, as may be remembered,
had been arrested by Estrades, and who had served his master ever
since his confinement, died, and was buried at midnight, and with
great secrecy. To supply his place, a woman of the neighbourhood was
asked if she would undertake to wait upon the prisoner. At first
she consented to accept of the place, imagining it might be a means
of benefiting her family; but afterwards declined it, upon learning
that she was to be cut off from all further intercourse with the
world, and never even to see her family again.[133] Whether any one
was eventually found to undertake the office, does not appear.
Among the erroneous anecdotes that have obtained credence with
regard to the Iron Mask, there are two, or rather apparently two
versions of one event, which is said to have taken place while
he was at the island of St. Margaret, but which is proved to be
incorrect, by a letter published by M. Roux (Fazillac).
One version of the story states, that the mysterious prisoner wrote
his name and qualities with the point of a knife upon a silver
plate, and threw it out of his window; that it was picked up by a
fisherman, who could not read, but brought it to St. Mars; and that
the latter, having ascertained that the man could not read, released
him.[134] The other version is, that the prisoner covered one of his
shirts with writing, and then threw it out of window; a Monk found
it, brought it to the Governor, and assured him he had not read
it; but was himself found dead in his bed two days afterwards, and
was supposed to have been assassinated.[135] The origin of these
stories, is evidently to be found in a letter from St. Mars to the
Minister,[136] dated June 4th, 1692; in which he informs him that he
has been obliged to inflict corporal punishment upon a Protestant
minister, named Salves, who was a prisoner under his care, because
_he would write things upon his pewter vessels, and on his linen,
in order to make known that he was imprisoned unjustly, on account
of the purity of his faith_.[137] Thus we see that this anecdote,
which has been twisted into the history of the Iron Mask, had, in
fact, no relation to him. And this circumstance should put us on
our guard with respect to the many other marvellous stories, which
have probably been pressed in the same way into the service. It is
also worthy of remark that the public having determined that the
Iron Mask was a great Prince, every thing was related in a manner to
favour this opinion--and thus the pewter of the obscure Salves was
turned, in the anecdote, into silver plate.
After eleven years’ tedious confinement at the Island of St.
Margaret, Matthioli accompanied St. Mars to the Bastille, to the
government of which the latter was appointed, upon the death of M.
de Bezemaux, which occurred in the last days of 1697.[138]
Before his departure from St. Margaret, St. Mars wrote to the
Minister to request that secure lodgings might be provided for
him and his prisoner during the journey; to which he received for
answer, “It will be sufficient that you should lodge as conveniently
and securely as you can, by means of payment.”[139]
St. Mars accordingly set forth on his journey to the Bastille, early
in the autumn of 1698, and in the course of it lodged at his own
estate of Palteau, which he probably considered a securer resting
place for his prisoner than any inn could have been. An account of
his visit to Palteau has been given by one of his descendants, of
whose accuracy no reasonable doubt can be entertained.
It is there stated, that the masked prisoner arrived at Palteau in a
litter, which preceded the one in which St. Mars himself travelled.
They were accompanied by many men on horseback, and by the peasants
who had gone to meet their landlord. St. Mars always ate with his
prisoner, and the latter sat with his back to the windows of the
dining-room, so that the peasants, who were in the court, could not
see whether he kept his mask on while at meals; but they observed
that St. Mars, who sat opposite to him, had two pistols placed by
the side of his plate. They were served by a single servant, who
brought all the dishes from the anti-room, where they were placed,
and always when he came in or went out shut the door very carefully
after him. When the prisoner crossed the court, he always had his
black mask over his face. The peasants also observed, that his teeth
and lips were seen, that he was tall of stature, and had grey hair.
St. Mars slept in a bed, which had been put up close to that of his
prisoner.[140]