The Man in the Iron Mask Read online

  Shortly after this, Louvois wrote to Saint-Mars enclosing a letter Dubreuil had sent to the archbishop of Lyon, and which the archbishop had forwarded to Louvois.

  I am sending you a letter that Dubreuil has written to M. Archbishop of Lyon, by which you will see that he claims to have several important things to say for the service of the King. Since he must be in Pignerol now, please make him understand that he cannot hope to get out of prison unless we know beforehand what he has to say, and in case he wants to write it, you will give him some paper to write before you and wax to seal the package, which you will make him close in your presence; after which you will send it to me.40

  Louvois added the precaution: “I am obliged to warn you not to allow yourself to be diverted by his fine speeches, and that you must regard him as one of the greatest rascals in the world and the most difficult to guard.”

  With this in mind, Saint-Mars set about trying to discover what it was Dubreuil wished to say to the king, and with time and patience his efforts paid off. In reply to a note from the jailer, Louvois authorized him to give Dubreuil the necessary writing materials, taking care to count everything he gave him and to ensure that all items were returned at the end of each day. “It is necessary,” he added, “before taking any resolution on what it contains, to see what this man will write; but whatever he may promise you, you must not relax the orders you have received from His Majesty in regard to him.”41

  As it was, Dubreuil wished to warn Louis of a plot that was allegedly being perpetrated by the bishop of Agde, who also happened to be Foucquet’s brother. The purpose of the plot was to assassinate Louvois and by warning the minister of his imminent danger, the spy hoped to receive the reward of being allowed to move to a new cell, away from Lapierre. By now, the Jacobin’s condition had further worsened, and he had so polluted the cell that Dubreuil was unable to eat or drink, and even found breathing difficult.42 Nothing, however, was done and the threat against Louvois was dismissed as being of no importance. Indeed, Louvois reported that Louis “did not think there was any thought to be given to the speeches of such a great rascal as this one.”43 Louvois loved to refer to prisoners in such derogatory terms.

  After six months of sharing a cell, the quality of life deteriorated still further for Dubreuil and Lapierre. Saint-Mars had evidently written to Louvois asking for advice about how to treat the monk, whose condition had declined to the point that he could no longer be controlled. For his part, Louvois was at a loss to know whom Saint-Mars meant; despite having countersigned the order for his arrest the minister now had no recollection of the monk or even his name. He replied:

  Please tell me who is lodged with Monsieur Dubreuil, whom you say is so mad, noting his name and that by which he was brought to you; and sending me a copy of the letter that was sent to you when you received him, so that I may better remember who he is.44

  Once he had been reminded of who the monk was, Louvois refused to believe that he really was mad. He warned Saint-Mars not to be taken in, for the man, he insisted, was fully capable of pretending to be insane.45 He recommended that Saint-Mars give Lapierre a good thrashing, which would encourage him to mend his ways.

  Shortly afterward, Saint-Mars assured the minister that merely the threat of corporal punishment had been enough to calm Lapierre, which Louvois found satisfactory. He reminded Saint-Mars that he should not hesitate to flog him if necessary.46 The jailer, however, was reluctant to use violence against a monk, fearing he could be excommunicated for it. In answer to this, Louvois had some wise words for him:

  I must explain to you that it is true that those who strike a priest, in disdain for his character, are excommunicated, but it is permissible to chastise a priest when he is wicked, and one is charged with his behavior… The King leaves it to you to change his prison [cell], or, in case you think it appropriate to leave him with the sieur Dubreuil, you should have him tied down so that he can do no harm. But remember to take care with the sieur Dubreuil, who is one of the craftiest rogues that one could meet.47

  Louvois’s therapy for a man who had been seriously mentally disturbed as a result of the ill-treatment to which he was subject was to inflict still more abuse on him, to threaten him with physical violence, and to cause him to be tied down in the belief that, this way, he could not harm himself or his companion in misfortune. As for Saint-Mars, once he had overcome his scruples concerning striking men of the cloth, he was happy to acquiesce; he continued to follow his orders without question.

  FIVE Mystery

  Prison life was cruel for low-ranking prisoners, even without the abuse meted out by Saint-Mars at the command of Louis and Louvois. Their cells were cold, dark, and dirty, and their everyday needs were neglected. Food was inadequate and regard to human dignity was slight to say the least. For those prisoners of high rank, conditions were better. They at least were fed well and given adequate clothing, the style and material of which was suited to their rank, and they lived in pleasantly furnished rooms with a fire and windows. Their apparent comfort, however, was merely an illusion, and it applied only to their physical needs.

  What all the prisoners of Pignerol shared, irrespective of their rank, was the loneliness and anxiety of being separated from their loved ones, worrying about how their families were faring in their absence, or even if any of them had departed this life. For Foucquet, this was always a pressing anxiety. Upon his arrest some fifteen years previously, he had left a young wife, four small children, and an aged mother alone in a world where few would dare to assist them for fear of incurring the king’s wrath. Lauzun, too, had a sister and brother whom he had not seen for more than seven years.

  As it was, Lauzun’s great uncle, Armand Nompar de Caumont, duc de La Force, had died in December 1675, leaving all his worldly goods to him. A notary was sent to Pignerol to allow Lauzun to consent to receive the inheritance and to sign the necessary legal documents.

  The legal situation surrounding another death in Lauzun’s family was to prove more complex, for it had a direct effect upon Lauzun as well as his family. His elder brother, Jacques de Caumont, a man of delicate health, died in September 1677, leaving Lauzun the head of the family. This change in circumstances made it crucial that Lauzun’s sister, the comtesse de Nogent, and his brother, the chevalier de Lauzun, should journey to Pignerol with a lawyer to arrange the family’s affairs. This was not an easy matter, given Lauzun’s attitude toward his sister.

  When they parted company at the entrance to the donjon, Lauzun had given d’Artagnan some letters for the king and Louvois. In them, he requested that neither Mme de Nogent nor her husband should have anything to do with his personal or business affairs and that in addition they should be denied access to his precious possessions. Distrusting his sister and brother-in-law completely, he asked that Barail and Rollinde1 should direct his affairs instead, adding that he wished to grant power of attorney to Rollinde. These requests were refused, and Lauzun’s affairs were entrusted to Mme de Nogent upon her promise not to help Lauzun to freedom without Louvois’s orders.2

  The comtesse had no difficulty in obtaining permission to travel to Pignerol with her brother and a lawyer, Isarn; but, as always when it came to prisoners of state, there were strict procedures to follow. The family was required to meet in Saint-Mars’s own room and in his presence. Loyauté, the current commissioner for war at Pignerol, was also to attend. Isarn, Lauzun, and Lauzun’s brother and sister were to conduct their private family business in loud voices, and no papers other than those directly relating to the business at hand were to be allowed into the room. For reasons that were not explained, the name of Mademoiselle de Montpensier was not to be mentioned under any pretext. The interviews were to be held on four consecutive days, with each session to last two hours: a total of eight hours in all.3

  In the event, the first interview had to be delayed because Lauzun was too ill with a fever to attend. Mme de Nogent, the chevalier de Lauzun, and Isarn were given comfortable lodgings in the to
wn until Lauzun was sufficiently recovered.

  The first interview took place on Friday October 29, 1677. On that day, the three visitors went up to the citadel with Commissioner Loyauté, with whom they were to have dinner. Before they sat down to eat, Saint-Mars took them into the room where the interviews were to be held and showed them the king’s written orders. He begged Isarn to conform to the king’s demands, and the lawyer, having read the document, assured him that he would. With the formalities completed, the small group went to dinner.

  The meeting was scheduled to begin at two in the afternoon, and when the appointed hour arrived, Lauzun was brought into Saint-Mars’s room, where his visitors awaited him. What they saw shocked them. Lauzun was in a dreadful state. Isarn described him as being so weak, “either because of the coldness of the air, of the bright light, or a weakness caused by his illness,” that he had to be supported by Saint-Mars.4 “I admit,” he continued, “that at the sight of him we were touched by pity.” The dashing young man who had both amused and annoyed the court with his antics had clearly succumbed to the ravages of illness, his condition compounded by six years of rigorous imprisonment. His face, or what could be seen of it beneath his unkempt beard and long moustaches, was pale; his eyes were filled with sadness and languor “that it would have been impossible not to be moved to compassion; I cannot express to you the distress of madame his sister and monsieur his brother.”

  Lauzun was given a chair by the fire, the weak autumn daylight streaming in from the window falling upon him, but he moved it, saying in a low voice that the light hurt his eyes and the fire hurt his head. He looked at Isarn and told him he did not know who was talking to him or who had sent him. Isarn explained his reason for coming to Pignerol, but Lauzun was unable to understand. Instead, he told him in a somewhat cold tone “that having been six years and now beginning the seventh in strict imprisonment, not having heard any business talk for so long, and not having seen a single person, his mind was so narrow and his intelligence so darkened that it was impossible for him to understand anything that I had said.”

  During all this time, Lauzun’s only occupation had been to “brood over and to deplore his own trouble, without thinking at all of his special affairs or of those of his family.” Indeed, “everything had slipped so thoroughly out of his memory that unless he were allowed to confer privately and intimately with his sister, whatever art I might bring into play with the purpose of helping him to understand, and of inducing him to decide on a course of action, he confessed to me candidly that he would never understand anything that I said.” Of course, his request to speak in private with his sister was refused. Lauzun nevertheless expressed his gratitude to Louis for allowing him to see her, adding that he felt great joy at the sight of her, “the person he loved most in the world and in whom he had the most confidence, that he was much obliged to her for having consented to undertake so long and painful a journey from love of him.” He was in the greatest anguish, he said, “not for the harshness of his imprisonment, but because he had displeased the King,” whose pardon and pity he still hoped to receive. Lauzun, “thereupon becoming affected and his eyes filling with tears, he covered them with his handkerchief, and remained like that for a long time.”

  Mme de Nogent was distressed as much at the sight of her brother as by his words, as was Monsieur the chevalier de Lauzun, and it was clear that no further business would be conducted that day. Brother and sister were conducted back to their lodgings in the town, where they both, having been upset by the encounter, retired to their beds.

  The following day saw the interview resume. Lauzun granted power of attorney to his sister, telling her that he had “entire confidence in you, and only intending to benefit my brothers and the rest of my family through your advice, and wishing to enrich your family, specially Mademoiselle de Bautru, my god-daughter, of whom I am very fond.” Mademoiselle de Bautru was Mme de Nogent’s daughter, and Lauzun made special mention of her in a bid to ensure that his sister, whom he still did not fully trust, would carry out her power of attorney with due diligence.

  He then issued instructions as to how the revenue from his inheritance was to be used. Occasionally, he would be shaken by a coughing fit, but he assured his brother and sister that they should not be concerned about his state of health, even though “he suffered from such bad air in his prison, which was so cold and wet that everything in it became rotten, even bread if it was left there for twenty-four hours, that he had no hope of ever coming out alive.”

  The third meeting, which took place on Sunday, October 31, saw Lauzun more like his usual self. When shown the document that granted power of attorney to Mme de Nogent, he refused to approve it and demanded that another should be drawn up. This new one he did approve, for it was written in accordance with his own instructions, to which he had applied himself with great clarity of thought.

  On the fourth and final day, Lauzun once again expressed his desire to speak privately with his sister, and just at it had been the first time, his request was refused. Having little choice but to speak to Mme de Nogent before witnesses, he addressed his words to his sister, but it was clear that his message was really for Louis:

  I beg you to see the King, and to tell him that I never have been nor shall be opposed to his decrees, that I shall always be a very faithful subject, that I have never been mixed up in any Court intrigue, that I have, and shall be, all my life the bitter sadness of having displeased him; that my trust is in his goodness, forgiveness, and pity, that he has overwhelmed me with benefits and honors, that I now only require his forgiveness; that he gave everything, and has the right to take away everything. I beg his Majesty very humbly to have pity on me and to allow me to serve him in any capacity he pleases [even] if it were only with spade in hand. Tell him that I find it difficult to believe that he wishes to crush a poor gentleman whose affairs, as well as those of his house, are absolutely ruined, that nevertheless I am submissive to his will and orders, that I have given you power of attorney to give the resignation of all my offices into his hands, that if he wants anything more definite I will give it, and shall all my life obey his commands with respect and humility, and in short that I shall count myself only too happy if he will have the goodness to leave me my post.

  He asked her also to speak to the marquis de Louvois, to assure him that Lauzun was his humble servant and that he craved his pardon if he had offended him. He asked Louvois to found three beds for the poor and to ensure that his debts were paid. When he had finished, Mme de Nogent asked Lauzun if she could kiss his hand, but he told her that this would not be allowed. At this, he rose abruptly and, praying again that God would be with her, he bowed to all present and left the room.

  Lauzun, it appeared, was looking beyond his prison walls to a time when he might be freed and allowed to return to court and into the service of the king he so worshipped.5 That eventuality appeared to come a step closer when Louis’s attitude toward his two highest-ranking prisoners, Foucquet and Lauzun, underwent a remarkable change. In November 1677, he granted them permission to leave their prison apartments and go outside and take the air.6 Initially they were to be allowed “to walk three times a week on the ramparts which are opposite their apartment.” They were to be accompanied by Saint-Mars, but their walks were to take place at different times of the day so that they could not communicate with each other. In addition, Saint-Mars was warned to ensure that his prisoners could not communicate with anyone either by word of mouth or by written message.

  This was a tremendous boon to Foucquet and Lauzun. Their apartments may have been luxurious, as far as prison accommodation went, but being confined indoors every day of their lives was not healthy. Each of them suffered a succession of illnesses, mainly colds and vague fevers. Now Louis desired them to take the air for two hours every second day, as long as Saint-Mars had the time. Elsewhere in his letter, Louvois wrote that if, in order to save time, Saint-Mars would prefer to allow the two prisoners to go out at the sam
e time, Louis would permit this, provided that the jailer was always present and could hear the conversation that passed between them, and that he ensured that they could not speak privately to each other.

  Later that same month, Louvois wrote again. Louis had not addressed the question of what to do with the valets who served Foucquet and Lauzun while their masters were walking the ramparts. Now he ordered that “their valets should walk with them, that is to say with monsieur de Lauzun the one that he has, and with monsieur Foucquet one of his; each time he goes out, and he can have them take it in turns.” He added that Louis approved of Foucquet and Lauzun taking their walks at different times rather than together. This contradicted Louvois’s earlier statement that the two could walk together if Saint-Mars’s time was short. In a letter that is now lost, the jailer asked for clarification on this point, only to be told that Louvois had “nothing to add” on the subject. Moreover, Saint-Mars was told that he could do what he judged most appropriate regarding the “two valets of monsieur Foucquet, whom you propose to go on the walk with him.”7 This statement makes it clear that Eustache, who was originally meant to serve Foucquet only when his usual valet was indisposed, had now become a permanent member of Foucquet’s prison household.8

  Louvois finishes his letter to Saint-Mars with the enigmatic phrase: “I beg you to thank monsieur Foucquet on my behalf for all his honesty.” What does this mean? Possibly, Saint-Mars’s request for a clarification in the matter of what to do with his valets as he took the air had come from Foucquet himself, and Louvois was simply acknowledging this and expressing his gratitude to Foucquet for ensuring that all was done in accordance with the king’s orders.