CHAPTER XXIV.

The Use of a Mask formerly very general—Frequently adopted for Prisoners in Italy—Its Employment not difficult in the Case of Matthioly—Origin of the Legend of the Man with the Iron Mask—As to the Transmission of the Secret from King to King—Louis XV. and Louis XVIII.—How it is that the Despatches which we have quoted have remained unpublished—Concerning the Silence of Saint-Simon—Dujonca—Taulès’ Objection—Louvois’ harsh Language—Matthioly’s Age—Concerning the Name of Marchialy—Order for Matthioly’s Arrest—Arrival of the Duke of Mantua in Paris—Conclusion.

But what about the mask? some one will say,—the mask, which is the characteristic feature of the mysterious prisoner, a feature more striking than all the others, because that whilst the latter are only known to those people who read, the former is recalled by the very name of the famous captive, which one cannot pronounce without picturing him to oneself with a mask covering his face? Need we say that the custom of wearing a mask was formerly very general among the great? Need we quote the example of Marie de Medicis, whom the exact Héroard[624]represents as going to see the young Louis XIII., “who kisses her beneath her mask?” Or the Duchess de Montpensier’s ladies of honour whom she authorised to cover their faces with masks ofblack velvet?[625]Or, again, the Maréchale de Clérambault, whom Saint-Simon[626]describes “as always wearing a mask of black velvet on the high road or in the galleries?” Need we recall Madame de Maintenon concealing her face under a mask,[627]when she comes seven different times to Versailles to seek the children just born of Madame de Montespan and Louis XIV., and to take them mysteriously to Paris in afiacre. Or the wives of certain rich financiers who, in 1683, dared to wear a mask even in the churches,[628]and thus provoked a severeordonnancefrom La Reynie, the Lieutenant of Police?

But if at this period we find very frequent examples of the use of a mask in the ordinary course of life, there is absolutely no authentic example of the wearing of a mask being enforced upon a prisoner, and such a measure is altogether peculiar to the famous captive. It has been concluded from this that the prisoner so exceptionally treated must have been of exceptional importance, and that there was some especial interest in concealing his countenance. But, if this were the case, why was he conducted to the Bastille, where a moment of forgetfulness might cause him to be recognized by one of his fellow-captives, and almost infallibly by one of the numerous officers of the fortress? Would it not have been as prudent as it was easy to have avoided this danger by leaving him at the Isles Sainte Marguerite? In order to explain the removal, it has been said that Louis XIV. desired to have the prisoner nearer himself. This isaltogether wrong. We have just given[629]the despatches which preceded Saint-Mars’ departure for the Bastille. Do they contain an imperious order, unanswerable, and founded on reasons of State? Far from it. The Minister informs Saint-Mars that the governorship of the Bastille has just become vacant, and inquires if he is willing to accept it. Far from speaking to him of “his old prisoner” in this first despatch,[630]he touches only upon his private affairs, and the evident gain he would experience by accepting this very advantageous proposition; and it is only when Saint-Mars decides upon doing so that the Minister charges him to bring “his old prisoner” with him. If this “old prisoner” had possessed in his features any resemblance “revealing his origin,” he would not have been taken to Paris, or anyhow some mention would have been made of him in the first despatch in which the new duties are proposed to Saint-Mars.

In the case of an Italian like Matthioly, the use of the mask has a very natural explanation. Indeed, it is only in Italy that we meet with the custom of covering the face of a prisoner with a mask. Individuals arrested in Venice by order of the State inquisitors were taken masked to their dungeons. Moreover, we have seen Matthioly concealing himself with a mask in his secret interviews with the Abbé d’Estrades, Louis XIV.’s ambassador. This mask[631]theMinister of the Duke of Mantua and the companion of his pleasures used always to carry about with him. It would certainly have formed part of the clothes and effects seized near Turin in 1678, and which were sufficiently valuable for Louvois to authorise Saint-Mars to take them with him.[632]In 1698, as at the time of his arrest, Matthioly was always under the ban of that order of absolute secrecy contained in a despatch which we shall shortly give; and Saint-Mars, as we know, was as exact and as scrupulous in carrying out his instructions, whether they were twenty years old or quite recent. Moreover, in 1678 Matthioly had come to Paris, charged with an official mission. He remained there a month. Supposing, as is probable, that he ran no risk, after so long an absence, of being recognized by the French whom he had visited, there was no reason why the Residents of the Duke of Mantua and the other Italian Princes should not do so. Lastly, an unpublished letter of Saint-Mars[633]and several despatches of the Minister of Exterior Relations prove that there was then in the Bastille a Count Boselli, an Italian, in whose detention the Marshal de Tallard appears to have been interested, and who, on account of his different missions, had travelled throughout the whole of Italy, and had been brought into connection with many of the illustrious families of Mantua and Bologna. He had doubtless known Matthioly’s, and perhaps Matthioly himself. For all these reasons, therefore, it was necessary to preserve the absolute secrecy to which the latter had been condemned. Saint-Mars had the meansat his disposal—a means exceptional and extraordinary, but still very familiar to Matthioly. His face was therefore covered with a mask, and if this peculiarity was so striking to the people at the Bastille, it was principally on account of the prisoner’s arriving there with the new governor, and because their attention was already excited by the expected arrival of Saint-Mars, preceded probably by a reputation for rigorous severity, and awaited, anyhow, with that impatience to meet a new chief which all subordinates display. It is this which has contributed to render so strong in Dujonca the impression of surprise which we meet with in his ingenuous journal. He has communicated this impression, thus received, to other officers of the Bastille. The mysterious memory of it is at first perpetuated within the walls of this formidable fortress. It would still have been talked about during the first half of the eighteenth century, when many men of letters were imprisoned there. These last have certainly heard the tale which, after its passage from one mouth to another, still contained a little of history and already much of legend. They have preserved profoundly engraven on their minds this story, so much more striking because it was told them on the very scene of the events, and, once liberated, they have spread it abroad amongst the public, and soon throughout the whole world. Imagination, vividly excited, has had free play. Various explanations have been proposed, supported, and contested. Great writers have taken part in this controversy, and have lent it the lustre of their talents. With the view of stimulating public curiosity, people have amused themselves with adding to it much that was extraordinary and marvellous, and thus the story of the Man with the Iron Mask hasby degrees left the grave domain of history to enter altogether into the seductive regions of fiction.

Next, various episodes have been successively imagined and added as so many embellishments to the life of the romantic prisoner: such as—Louvois’ visit to the Isles Sainte-Marguerite; the silver dish thrown out of the window and recovered by a fisherman, luckily for himself, uneducated; and especially the transmission of the gloomy secret “from King to King, and to no other.”[634]Louvois, as we have already said,[635]never went to the Isles Sainte-Marguerite, and it was a Protestant clergyman who threw out of the window a tin dish, covered with a few lines of writing. As to the transmission of the secret, which thus became, to a certain extent, an attribute of royalty, nothing proves that this ever took place when it was possible, and it is indisputable that it has not always been so. No doubt Louis XIV., on his death-bed, had a private conversation with the Duke d’Orléans.[636]That after having conversed with him concerning grave affairs of State, he should have spoken to him of the only two abductions of foreigners committed during his reign—those of Avedick and Matthioly; that at this supreme hour this King, who did not at all regret the persecutions inflicted upon his own subjects, because, even at his last moment, he was artfully made to consider them necessary for religion; that this King, I say, should have understood, at such a time, that to carry off an Armenian Patriarch, and to cause a foreign Minister to disappear, were two extreme acts, and manifest violations of international law; and that, acting under thisimpression, he should have recounted them to his nephew, may be admitted. Afterwards, the question of the Man with the Iron Mask having been suddenly mooted, it is probable the Duke d’Orléans or Cardinal Fleury may have informed Louis XV. about it. All the replies of the latter, when questioned, tend to confirm the opinion we have just established, by the examination of the despatches and are perfectly applicable to Matthioly.[637]That Louis XV.may have transmitted the secret to his grandson is also possible, although there is nothing to establish the fact of his having done so. But how was Louis XVIII. in a position to have been acquainted with it, as he is said tohave been? When, as Count de Provence, he quitted Paris, Louis XVI. did not foresee the catastrophe which was so near. Will it be said that in the depths of his prison, the unhappy King may have remembered the necessary transmission, and have therefore occupied himself with informing his brother? But then, also, Louis XVII. was still living. If, therefore, Louis XVIII. has, by means of skilfully obscured answers, given out that he, too, was in the secret, it was only that he might not seem to be deprived of a privilege which some persons still regarded as a prerogative of the Crown.

Such are the embellishments with which time has adorned the story of the masked prisoner, and which, by transfiguring him, have rendered him unrecognizable. But, as has often been said to us, how is it that, reduced to his proper proportions, he has not been previously recognized in a definitive manner? How is it, too, since he has been the object of such long researches, that people have passed over so many despatches concerning him, without even reading them? To this we shall content ourselves with replying, that these despatches are in existence, that their authenticity cannot be contested, and that any one may take cognizance of them in the Archives of the Ministry of War or of Foreign Affairs. If they have remained unpublished to the present time, it is doubtless because they have escaped notice, containing, as they do, mere indications, and no proof revealing in a direct manner the identity of the Man with the Iron Mask. It is by bringing them together, and comparing them, that light is thrown upon them. Isolated they remain obscure; having no clearness of their own, they have not attracted attention, and have remained buried in the heaps of documents among which they are still to be found.

What objection yet remains to combat the result of this minute inquiry carefully conducted among innumerable materials? Is it the silence of Saint-Simon[639]in reference to this affair? But this very silence tends to prove that the masked prisoner was the victim of an intrigue concocted abroad. This immortal writer has, indeed, thrown light into the most secret and obscure recesses of Louis XIV.’s Court. None of its hidden wretchedness, none of its most secret intrigues, nothing concerning the interior of the Kingdom, has escaped this self-constituted observer. But, on the other hand, he was only acquainted with the foreign affairs of the end of the reign, when his friend, the Marquis de Torcy, had assumed the direction of them. He was as completely ignorant about all the others as he was well-informed concerning what passed within the Kingdom. His silence, therefore, which would be very strange, if the Man with the Iron Mask had belonged to a French family, is easily explained by the fact that this prisoner was arrested outside France, and in 1678.

Will it still be maintained that the slight importance of a minister of the Duke of Mantua is incompatible with the care that Dujonca[640]took to prepare the chamber in the Bastille for the Man with the Iron Mask, when in the curious manuscript notes[641]which we have found in theArchives of the Arsenal, Dujonca himself states, “That on the arrival of a prisoner, it is necessary to take care to have given and brought to him all that is essential for the furnishing of his chamber, paying very dearly for it to the Governor’s upholsterer, or else to themaîtresse d’autel?”

Is it still possible to draw an objection from the silence concerning Matthioly preserved in the despatches addressed by the Minister to Saint-Mars during the years 1680 to 1698,[642]now that we know that Matthioly, contrary to the opinion admitted up to the present time, had remained at Pignerol, and was only restored to Saint-Mars a few years before the latter’s departure for the Bastille?

People have often spoken of the severe treatment of which Matthioly was the object, and the harsh expressions used with reference to him by the Minister. But if there was indeed, for a long time, a certain harshness in Louvois’ language, the despatches of the Abbé d’Estrades explain it. This harshness was caused by the cruel disappointment experienced by the Minister, when, notwithstanding Matthioly’s promises, the original of the ratification of the treaty of Casale could not be found among his papers. Previously to this, Catinat had written to Louvois: “Monsieur de Saint-Mars treats the S. de Lestang[643]very kindly so far as regards cleanliness and food, but very strictly in preventing him holding intercourse with any one.”[644]

Later, especially after the execution of the treaty, the old grievances disappeared, and if an incessant surveillancewas maintained, useless severity was dispensed with. Moreover, these harsh, coarse, and painful expressions were only too familiar to Louvois, and in some of his despatches he has scarcely shown himself milder with reference to Fouquet and De Lauzun.

Lastly, Voltaire declares that he had heard “from the Sieur Marsolan, the son-in-law of the apothecary of the Bastille, that the latter, a short time previous to the death of the masked prisoner, learnt from him thathe believed himself to be about sixty years old.” Now Matthioly, born in 1640, was, in reality, sixty-three years of age when he died.

He died, and the registers of the Church of Saint-Paul[645]bear the name ofMarchialy. The dissertations on this name have been as numerous as ingenious. Some persons—Father Griffet,[646]for instance—have discovered in it the letters forming the wordshic amiral(Vermandois and Beaufort were Admirals of France), as if the employment of an anagram was probable under such circumstances! Others[647]have beheld in it the wordmar, which in the Armenian tongue signifiesSaint, and in the East would be applied to the patriarchs, and the wordKialy, the Armenian diminutive ofMichael, which was Avedick’s Christian name. Is it not more simple and natural to regard this word as standing for Matthioly’s name itself, which in several despatches Louvois writes Marthioly?[648]No one can be ignorant of the negligence with which proper names were then spelt?[649]Here there is only one letter changed; how many examples do we not come across of much more important modifications? No one could have any suspicion of the date of Count Matthioly’s death. People were ignorant that Dujonca kept a journal, and it was only afterwards, that guided by its statements they thought of searching among the registers of the Church of Saint-Paul for thedate of November 20, 1703, which he had assigned for the burial of the masked prisoner. But it must at least be admitted that at the time of this burial there was nothing which could serve to attract attention towards the registration of November 20. Moreover, all danger of his imparting any confidence, all fear of a revelation of an odious violation of international law, had disappeared with the possessor of Louis XIV.’s secret, with the victim of this violation. To inscribe his name upon the register of an obscure church, where no one had the means of seeking for it, was therefore natural, and presented no danger. Everything that was essential or indispensable had been done. The abduction was accomplished with the greatest mystery; Matthioly’s presence at Pignerol, and afterwards at the Islands, was known only to his gaoler; his name merely mentioned in despatches which might be presumed to be placed for ever beyond investigations, then this name disappearing in its turn, and every trace of the prisoner, as was believed, effaced by these means; his changes of prison taking place with extraordinary precautions; all this would have sufficed to have rendered any researches useless, and to have prevented the complete identification of Matthioly, if the archives at Versailles had remained impenetrable. Louis XIV.’s order was scrupulously executed, as will be seen from the despatch,[650]which it is now time to give, and in which the King of France caused to be accorded to the Abbé d’Estrades, the authorisation which he had solicited.

“Versailles, April 28, 1679.“The King has seen in your letter the confidence that Madame la Duchesse de Savoye had imparted to you concerning Count Matthioly’s perfidy. It is rather strange that, feeling himself guilty to such a degree towards his Majesty, he dares to trust himself in your hands. So the King thinks that it is good that he should not do so with impunity.Since you believe you can get him carried off without the thing causing any scandal, his Majesty desires that you should execute the idea that you have, and that you should have him taken secretly to Pignerol. An order is sent there to receive him,and to have him kept there without any person knowing about it. It will depend upon your skill to arrange a meeting, in order to speak with him in an unfrequented spot, and if possible, in the country. But in any case, if it is true that he has had the ratification of the Duke of Mantua, and should have it in his possession, it would be good to take him and make sure of him. It is not necessary that you should inform Madame la Duchesse de Savoye of this order which his Majesty gives you, andNO ONE MUST KNOW WHAT HAS BECOME OF THIS MAN.”

“Versailles, April 28, 1679.

“The King has seen in your letter the confidence that Madame la Duchesse de Savoye had imparted to you concerning Count Matthioly’s perfidy. It is rather strange that, feeling himself guilty to such a degree towards his Majesty, he dares to trust himself in your hands. So the King thinks that it is good that he should not do so with impunity.Since you believe you can get him carried off without the thing causing any scandal, his Majesty desires that you should execute the idea that you have, and that you should have him taken secretly to Pignerol. An order is sent there to receive him,and to have him kept there without any person knowing about it. It will depend upon your skill to arrange a meeting, in order to speak with him in an unfrequented spot, and if possible, in the country. But in any case, if it is true that he has had the ratification of the Duke of Mantua, and should have it in his possession, it would be good to take him and make sure of him. It is not necessary that you should inform Madame la Duchesse de Savoye of this order which his Majesty gives you, andNO ONE MUST KNOW WHAT HAS BECOME OF THIS MAN.”

Our task is ended. Can it be a matter for regret that the chief and necessary consequence of our researches has been to annihilate a creature of fantasy with a particularly handsome countenance, of lofty birth, and with an affecting destiny? Is not the charm of truth superior to all others, and if it has been vouchsafed to us to introduce it into these pages, if, into a question where, as we have seen, everything was uncertainty, we have succeeded in throwing a little fresh light, why should we fear to have finished by dissipatingthat creation of popular imagination, that dubious and fanciful being, who, it seems to us, ought not to excite so much interest as he who has really lived, and whose existence we can follow step by step? Whilst, in fact, an inevitable uncertainty must always be mingled with the attraction exercised by the former, whilst the pity and emotion experienced must ever be restrained by the impossibility of proving even his birth; in the second case we are concerned with a misfortune quite as great, and this time real, with an individual much less eminent, but who has indeed existed, and who, condemned like the former to an unjust punishment, has really lived, suffered, and been persecuted. Wherefore, too, should one measure one’s pity by the importance of those who deserve it? Are not all the victims of arbitrary power equally worthy of interest, and does not the persistence of misfortune raise the persecuted to the level of those who are great by birth and by splendour of position? Fouquet in the depths of his prison, separated from every one that he loves, but finding in his Christian sentiments sufficient strength to overcome his sorrow, seems to us a great deal more touching in his resignation than interesting from the recollection of the splendid part he had played in the court of Louis XIV. Matthioly also was torn from his family and held a high position, but in a much less important court; he too suffered the loneliness of captivity, and for him this loneliness was lasting. His wife took refuge in a convent, and thus withdrew from a world from which Louis XIV. had violently carried off her husband. His family was dispersed, powerless, and silent, feeling itself threatened as it were by the blow which had struck its chief. He dragged out hisexistence in various prisons, proceeding from Pignerol to the Isles Sainte-Marguerite, from these islands to the Bastille, sometimes resigned, at others disordered by grief, and in his fits of madness calling himself a near relation of Louis XIV., and for this reason demanding his liberty. On November 19, 1703, his misfortunes terminated with his life.

By a strange coincidence, at the very moment of Matthioly’s death, his master, Charles IV., Duke of Mantua, arrived in Paris. But he—who had abandoned himself more and more to Louis XIV., to whom he had sold one of the keys of Italy, and had recently delivered up Mantua itself, besides having several times permitted him to pass through his States in order to invade the peninsula—was fêted as he deserved to be, and was received as a true Frenchman. He descended at the Palace of the Luxembourg, magnificently fitted up for him with the furniture of the Crown. Seven tables were constantly served at the King’s expense for the Duke and his suite, and brilliant fêtes were given him at Meudon and Versailles, where he received from Louis XIV. a splendid sword covered with diamonds.[651]It has been said[652]that it would have been extremely imprudent to have inscribed Matthioly’s real name upon the registers of Saint-Paul’s, at the date of the Duke’s arrival in Paris, since the latter might thus have become acquainted with his death. We know what kind of interest Charles IV. took in his ex-confidant, and we have seen that he only troubled himself with making sure of his positive disappearance. Instead, therefore, of the fact of this death being concealedfrom him, it is very possible that he was made acquainted with it, with the view of altogether dissipating his alarms. However this may be, history presents some singular meetings, and reality often surpasses in interest the most romantic fancies of the imagination. Of the two individuals who had played the principal part in the cession of Casale to Louis XIV., the Prince who had agreed to it contrary to his duty, in order to obtain a little money and satisfy his prodigality, was the object of gorgeous fêtes; while at the same moment, in the same town, and only a short distance off, his ex-Minister, whom he had created Senator and Count, who was allied to the most illustrious families of his country, and who had once also been magnificently received by Louis XIV. at Versailles, but who had afterwards for an instant arrested the monarch’s overwhelming ambition and delayed the servitude of Mantua, was dying far away from his friends, in a little chamber of the Bastille, after a captivity of four-and-twenty years; and the next day, at the fall of night, was obscurely borne to the neighbouring church, followed only by two subordinate officials belonging to the fortress.

FOOTNOTES:[624]Journal, vol. i. p. 133.[625]Mémoires de Mademoiselle de Montpensier, vol. iii. p. 225.[626]Mémoires de Saint-Simon, vol. xiii. p. 16.[627]Souvenirs de Madame de Caylus.[628]Correspondance Administrative sous Louis XIV., vol. ii. p. 571. See also M. P. Clément,La Police sous Louis XIV., p. 89.[629]ChapterXXIII., pp.347, 348,ante.[630]See Chap.XXIII., note 29, pp.346, 347,ante.[631]This mask would, however, have been of a different kind to that which Matthioly was afterwards compelled to wear. The latter was no doubt secured in such a way that it could not be removed by the wearer.—Trans.[632]Despatch from Louvois to Saint-Mars, June 9, 1681.[633]Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section Mantua, 27-29.[634]Michelet.[635]ChapterV.,p. 62,ante.[636]Mémoires de Saint-Simon, vol. viii. p. 66.[637]Dutens, in hisCorrespondance Interceptée, relates that “Louis XV. said one day to the Duke de Choiseul, that he was acquainted with the story of the masked prisoner. The Duke begged the King to tell him what it was. But he could obtain no other reply savethat all the conjectures as yet formed concerning this prisoner were mistaken ones.” As Madame Dubarry caused the Duke de Choiseul to be disgraced in 1770, the conversation narrated must have taken place previous to this date. Now it was only on June 28, 1770, that Baron d’Heiss was the first person in France to advance, in a letter addressed to the authors of theJournal Encyclopédique, as we have stated in Chapter xxi., p. 295,ante, the theory which makes Matthioly the Man with the Iron Mask, and this letter was inserted in the part for August 15, 1770. The abduction of Matthioly had been narrated at Leyden in 1687,[638]but it was only in August, 1770, that the theory began to be known and debated. Louis XV.’s reply to the Duke de Choiseul can therefore be very well reconciled with the theory.Dutens adds that some time afterwards Madame de Pompadour pressed the King to give an explanation with reference to this subject, and that Louis XV. told her that he believedit was a minister of an Italian prince.M. Giraud (of the Institute) has often heard Madame de Boigne relate the following anecdote which he has given me authority to publish. Madame de Boigne was the daughter of the Marquis d’Osmond, who held a high position at the court of Louis XVI. In one of her conversations with the Marquis, Madame Adelaide related the check which her curiosity had received with reference to the Iron Mask. She had persuaded her brother the Dauphin to question the King concerning this famous prisoner, so that he might tell her the secret afterwards. The Dauphin was then very young, and at the first word that he uttered, Louis XV. inquired, smiling: “Who has charged you to ask me this question?” The Dauphin acknowledged that it was his sister. The King refused to give a complete answer, but observed that the secret had never been of great importance, and at that time no longer possessed any interest.The same anecdote has been related to us in almost identical words by M. Guillaume Guizot, who also had it from Madame de Boigne.In page 47 of theSouvenirs du Baron de Gleichenrecently published by M. Grimblot, we read that the Duke de Choiseul had vainly made researches among the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in order to discover the secret of the Iron Mask. There is nothing very surprising in this. These Archives contain all the documents that we have reproduced or quoted, treating of Matthioly’s abduction. They also contain, spread among a number of series and volumes, the despatches which prove the evident interest that the Duke of Mantua had in the definitive disappearance of his ex-confidant. But if these documents, of which the greater portion were unpublished, have furnished me with arguments for the support of the Matthioly theory, it is not in these Archives but in those of the Ministry of War that I have discovered the despatches which have enabled me to establish the complete agreement between the individual carried off May 2, 1679, and the prisoner who arrived at the Bastille with Saint-Mars, September 18, 1698, and died there November 19, 1703. Researches made solely in the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, would have led to nothing. It was necessary to make them in all the collections, and afterwards to compare the various results, the combination of which alone enables us to obtain a solution of the problem.[638]In a work entitledHistoire abrégée de l’Europe, which, after speaking of Matthioly’s proceedings with reference to the treaty for the surrender of Casale and describing his capture and imprisonment, goes on to say: “At Pignerol he was thought to be too near Italy, and, though he was guarded very carefully, it was feared that the walls might tell tales; he was therefore removed thence to the Isles Sainte-Marguerite, where he is at present, under the care of M. de Saint-Mars, the governor.”—Trans.[639]This objection has often been made.[640]This is one of the points on which Father Griffet relies most of all in order to prove the excessive importance of this prisoner. The quotation which we have given from Dujonca’s notes, establishes the fact that he was obliged to act thus for all the prisoners. But besides these notes, as yet unpublished, theJournal de Dujoncafurnishes several proofs of what we advance.[641]We have given these notes in ChapterXIII.pp. 167-169,ante.[642]Taulès was the first to put forward this objection.[643]The reader will remember that this was Matthioly’s supposititious name.[644]Despatch from Catinat to Louvois, May 6, 1679. Given by Delort, p. 214.[645]The following is a literal translation of the entry in the Register in question, a facsimile of which forms the frontispiece to the present volume:—“The 19th Marchialy aged forty-five years or about has died in the bastile, whose body has been buried in the cemetery of st. Paul his parish the 20th of the present [month] in the presence of Monsieur Rosage major of the bastile and Mr. Reglhe surgeon-major of the bastile who have signed.]“Rosarges.” “Reilhe.”InLa Bastille Dévoilée, a work of doubtful authenticity, as also in theMélanges d’Histoire et de Littératureof Mr. Quintin Craufurd, who professes to make the statement on the authority of M. Delaunay, the unfortunate governor of the Bastille in the reign of Louis XVI., it is asserted that the prisoner “was buried in a winding-sheet of new linen; and for the most part everything that was found in his chamber was burnt, such as every part of his bed, including the mattresses, his tables, chairs, and other utensils, which were all reduced to powder and to cinders, and thrown into the drains. The rest of the things, such as the silver, copper, and pewter, were melted. This prisoner was lodged in the third chamber of the tower Bertaudière, which room was scraped and filed quite to the stone, and fresh whitewashed from the top to the bottom. The doors and windows were burnt like the rest.”—Trans.[646]Dissertation on the Man with the Iron Mask, in hisTraité des Différentes Sortes de Preuves.[647]Mémoires de Mallet du Pan.[648]The name is written in several ways. I have chosen the orthography most generally adopted in the despatches. We find Matioli, Matheoli, and Marthioly. [Also Mattioli, Matioly, and Matthioli. Louis XIV. writes it indiscriminately Mathioly, Matthioli, and Matthioly—in different ways even in the same despatch.—Trans.][649]M. P. Clément quotes a curious example of this negligence in hisPolice sous Louis XIV., p. 102, note 1. The correct name of the Italian, accomplice of Sainte-Croix in theAffaire des Poisons, was Egidio, but in the documents he is called Exili.[650]Unpublished despatch:—Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section Savoy, 68. It is from this despatch that the motto of the present work has been taken.[651]Mémoires de Saint-Simon, vol. iii. pp. 70, 108, 109.[652]M. Jules Loiseleur,Revue Contemporaine, p. 236.

[624]Journal, vol. i. p. 133.

[625]Mémoires de Mademoiselle de Montpensier, vol. iii. p. 225.

[626]Mémoires de Saint-Simon, vol. xiii. p. 16.

[627]Souvenirs de Madame de Caylus.

[628]Correspondance Administrative sous Louis XIV., vol. ii. p. 571. See also M. P. Clément,La Police sous Louis XIV., p. 89.

[629]ChapterXXIII., pp.347, 348,ante.

[630]See Chap.XXIII., note 29, pp.346, 347,ante.

[631]This mask would, however, have been of a different kind to that which Matthioly was afterwards compelled to wear. The latter was no doubt secured in such a way that it could not be removed by the wearer.—Trans.

[632]Despatch from Louvois to Saint-Mars, June 9, 1681.

[633]Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section Mantua, 27-29.

[634]Michelet.

[635]ChapterV.,p. 62,ante.

[636]Mémoires de Saint-Simon, vol. viii. p. 66.

[637]Dutens, in hisCorrespondance Interceptée, relates that “Louis XV. said one day to the Duke de Choiseul, that he was acquainted with the story of the masked prisoner. The Duke begged the King to tell him what it was. But he could obtain no other reply savethat all the conjectures as yet formed concerning this prisoner were mistaken ones.” As Madame Dubarry caused the Duke de Choiseul to be disgraced in 1770, the conversation narrated must have taken place previous to this date. Now it was only on June 28, 1770, that Baron d’Heiss was the first person in France to advance, in a letter addressed to the authors of theJournal Encyclopédique, as we have stated in Chapter xxi., p. 295,ante, the theory which makes Matthioly the Man with the Iron Mask, and this letter was inserted in the part for August 15, 1770. The abduction of Matthioly had been narrated at Leyden in 1687,[638]but it was only in August, 1770, that the theory began to be known and debated. Louis XV.’s reply to the Duke de Choiseul can therefore be very well reconciled with the theory.Dutens adds that some time afterwards Madame de Pompadour pressed the King to give an explanation with reference to this subject, and that Louis XV. told her that he believedit was a minister of an Italian prince.M. Giraud (of the Institute) has often heard Madame de Boigne relate the following anecdote which he has given me authority to publish. Madame de Boigne was the daughter of the Marquis d’Osmond, who held a high position at the court of Louis XVI. In one of her conversations with the Marquis, Madame Adelaide related the check which her curiosity had received with reference to the Iron Mask. She had persuaded her brother the Dauphin to question the King concerning this famous prisoner, so that he might tell her the secret afterwards. The Dauphin was then very young, and at the first word that he uttered, Louis XV. inquired, smiling: “Who has charged you to ask me this question?” The Dauphin acknowledged that it was his sister. The King refused to give a complete answer, but observed that the secret had never been of great importance, and at that time no longer possessed any interest.The same anecdote has been related to us in almost identical words by M. Guillaume Guizot, who also had it from Madame de Boigne.In page 47 of theSouvenirs du Baron de Gleichenrecently published by M. Grimblot, we read that the Duke de Choiseul had vainly made researches among the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in order to discover the secret of the Iron Mask. There is nothing very surprising in this. These Archives contain all the documents that we have reproduced or quoted, treating of Matthioly’s abduction. They also contain, spread among a number of series and volumes, the despatches which prove the evident interest that the Duke of Mantua had in the definitive disappearance of his ex-confidant. But if these documents, of which the greater portion were unpublished, have furnished me with arguments for the support of the Matthioly theory, it is not in these Archives but in those of the Ministry of War that I have discovered the despatches which have enabled me to establish the complete agreement between the individual carried off May 2, 1679, and the prisoner who arrived at the Bastille with Saint-Mars, September 18, 1698, and died there November 19, 1703. Researches made solely in the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, would have led to nothing. It was necessary to make them in all the collections, and afterwards to compare the various results, the combination of which alone enables us to obtain a solution of the problem.

Dutens adds that some time afterwards Madame de Pompadour pressed the King to give an explanation with reference to this subject, and that Louis XV. told her that he believedit was a minister of an Italian prince.

M. Giraud (of the Institute) has often heard Madame de Boigne relate the following anecdote which he has given me authority to publish. Madame de Boigne was the daughter of the Marquis d’Osmond, who held a high position at the court of Louis XVI. In one of her conversations with the Marquis, Madame Adelaide related the check which her curiosity had received with reference to the Iron Mask. She had persuaded her brother the Dauphin to question the King concerning this famous prisoner, so that he might tell her the secret afterwards. The Dauphin was then very young, and at the first word that he uttered, Louis XV. inquired, smiling: “Who has charged you to ask me this question?” The Dauphin acknowledged that it was his sister. The King refused to give a complete answer, but observed that the secret had never been of great importance, and at that time no longer possessed any interest.

The same anecdote has been related to us in almost identical words by M. Guillaume Guizot, who also had it from Madame de Boigne.

In page 47 of theSouvenirs du Baron de Gleichenrecently published by M. Grimblot, we read that the Duke de Choiseul had vainly made researches among the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in order to discover the secret of the Iron Mask. There is nothing very surprising in this. These Archives contain all the documents that we have reproduced or quoted, treating of Matthioly’s abduction. They also contain, spread among a number of series and volumes, the despatches which prove the evident interest that the Duke of Mantua had in the definitive disappearance of his ex-confidant. But if these documents, of which the greater portion were unpublished, have furnished me with arguments for the support of the Matthioly theory, it is not in these Archives but in those of the Ministry of War that I have discovered the despatches which have enabled me to establish the complete agreement between the individual carried off May 2, 1679, and the prisoner who arrived at the Bastille with Saint-Mars, September 18, 1698, and died there November 19, 1703. Researches made solely in the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, would have led to nothing. It was necessary to make them in all the collections, and afterwards to compare the various results, the combination of which alone enables us to obtain a solution of the problem.

[638]In a work entitledHistoire abrégée de l’Europe, which, after speaking of Matthioly’s proceedings with reference to the treaty for the surrender of Casale and describing his capture and imprisonment, goes on to say: “At Pignerol he was thought to be too near Italy, and, though he was guarded very carefully, it was feared that the walls might tell tales; he was therefore removed thence to the Isles Sainte-Marguerite, where he is at present, under the care of M. de Saint-Mars, the governor.”—Trans.

[639]This objection has often been made.

[640]This is one of the points on which Father Griffet relies most of all in order to prove the excessive importance of this prisoner. The quotation which we have given from Dujonca’s notes, establishes the fact that he was obliged to act thus for all the prisoners. But besides these notes, as yet unpublished, theJournal de Dujoncafurnishes several proofs of what we advance.

[641]We have given these notes in ChapterXIII.pp. 167-169,ante.

[642]Taulès was the first to put forward this objection.

[643]The reader will remember that this was Matthioly’s supposititious name.

[644]Despatch from Catinat to Louvois, May 6, 1679. Given by Delort, p. 214.

[645]The following is a literal translation of the entry in the Register in question, a facsimile of which forms the frontispiece to the present volume:—“The 19th Marchialy aged forty-five years or about has died in the bastile, whose body has been buried in the cemetery of st. Paul his parish the 20th of the present [month] in the presence of Monsieur Rosage major of the bastile and Mr. Reglhe surgeon-major of the bastile who have signed.]“Rosarges.” “Reilhe.”InLa Bastille Dévoilée, a work of doubtful authenticity, as also in theMélanges d’Histoire et de Littératureof Mr. Quintin Craufurd, who professes to make the statement on the authority of M. Delaunay, the unfortunate governor of the Bastille in the reign of Louis XVI., it is asserted that the prisoner “was buried in a winding-sheet of new linen; and for the most part everything that was found in his chamber was burnt, such as every part of his bed, including the mattresses, his tables, chairs, and other utensils, which were all reduced to powder and to cinders, and thrown into the drains. The rest of the things, such as the silver, copper, and pewter, were melted. This prisoner was lodged in the third chamber of the tower Bertaudière, which room was scraped and filed quite to the stone, and fresh whitewashed from the top to the bottom. The doors and windows were burnt like the rest.”—Trans.

[645]The following is a literal translation of the entry in the Register in question, a facsimile of which forms the frontispiece to the present volume:—

“The 19th Marchialy aged forty-five years or about has died in the bastile, whose body has been buried in the cemetery of st. Paul his parish the 20th of the present [month] in the presence of Monsieur Rosage major of the bastile and Mr. Reglhe surgeon-major of the bastile who have signed.

]“Rosarges.” “Reilhe.”

InLa Bastille Dévoilée, a work of doubtful authenticity, as also in theMélanges d’Histoire et de Littératureof Mr. Quintin Craufurd, who professes to make the statement on the authority of M. Delaunay, the unfortunate governor of the Bastille in the reign of Louis XVI., it is asserted that the prisoner “was buried in a winding-sheet of new linen; and for the most part everything that was found in his chamber was burnt, such as every part of his bed, including the mattresses, his tables, chairs, and other utensils, which were all reduced to powder and to cinders, and thrown into the drains. The rest of the things, such as the silver, copper, and pewter, were melted. This prisoner was lodged in the third chamber of the tower Bertaudière, which room was scraped and filed quite to the stone, and fresh whitewashed from the top to the bottom. The doors and windows were burnt like the rest.”—Trans.

[646]Dissertation on the Man with the Iron Mask, in hisTraité des Différentes Sortes de Preuves.

[647]Mémoires de Mallet du Pan.

[648]The name is written in several ways. I have chosen the orthography most generally adopted in the despatches. We find Matioli, Matheoli, and Marthioly. [Also Mattioli, Matioly, and Matthioli. Louis XIV. writes it indiscriminately Mathioly, Matthioli, and Matthioly—in different ways even in the same despatch.—Trans.]

[649]M. P. Clément quotes a curious example of this negligence in hisPolice sous Louis XIV., p. 102, note 1. The correct name of the Italian, accomplice of Sainte-Croix in theAffaire des Poisons, was Egidio, but in the documents he is called Exili.

[650]Unpublished despatch:—Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, section Savoy, 68. It is from this despatch that the motto of the present work has been taken.

[651]Mémoires de Saint-Simon, vol. iii. pp. 70, 108, 109.

[652]M. Jules Loiseleur,Revue Contemporaine, p. 236.

THE END.

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