Mme de Montespan later spoke to her friends about what she had suffered at Lauzun’s hands, and received some advice from a close friend, Mme Scarron.32 Knowing that Louis was deep into his preparations to go to war against Holland, she asked Mme de Montespan if she thought it would be a good idea to be left alone at Versailles while Louis was at the front, where Lauzun would constantly be at his side dripping venom about her into the king’s ear. Such a prospect terrified the royal favorite, who allowed herself to be persuaded that she should go to Louis and urge him to order the arrest of this man who did nothing but mistreat and insult her.
At this point, Lauzun’s steadfast enemy, the marquis de Louvois, was looking to the forthcoming war as a means of furthering his own ambitions, and he saw the virtue in clearing Lauzun from the field of rivals. He entered into an alliance with Mme de Montespan, who by now very much feared for her safety as long as Lauzun was at liberty,33 and together they sought to bring about the fall of the insolent comte.
As it was, Mme de Montespan and Louvois already had the perfect weapon at hand. Lauzun, they reminded Louis, was beloved of Mademoiselle, who had been the heroine of the Fronde. He was too dangerous a man to be left at liberty. As Mademoiselle states in her Mémoires, “there are unhappy moments in which one cannot escape one’s evil destiny.”34 For Lauzun, that moment arrived on November 25, 1671, when he was arrested in his rooms and taken to the Bastille. Here, he languished for two days while arrangements were made to conduct him to Pignerol. At one point, Louvois allowed Lauzun’s friend Barail to write to him, in his presence, to ask what ought to be done with his servants and property. D’Artagnan, who was guarding the prisoner at the Bastille, was told to provide the necessary writing materials and to allow Lauzun to answer his friend’s letter, but only in his presence. The letter was to be handed to the courier who had brought the one from Barail.
Two days later, Lauzun was bundled into a carriage with d’Artagnan, who was now making his second journey to Pignerol. The captain-lieutenant of the first company of the king’s musketeers was accompanied by his cousin, Pierre de Montesquieu d’Artagnan,35 and his sub-lieutenant, Louis de Melun, marquis de Maupertuis. They set out at the head of an escort of one hundred musketeers.36
D’Artagnan and Lauzun had fallen out, but Lauzun had recently made up their differences. Perhaps he had sensed that, in the troubles that were now engulfing him, he would need a friend, or at least someone who was not openly hostile toward him. As the unhappy party clattered through the crisp winter landscape, Lauzun was so absorbed in his own misfortunes that he could not be induced to talk despite the best efforts of Maupertuis to draw him out. As the party passed Petit-Bourg, which Mademoiselle was expected to inherit, Lauzun sighed, “Alas, this house reminds me of the difference between my situation as it is now and what it was a year ago.” D’Artagnan and his companions listened in silence as Lauzun continued: “That house would have been mine if I had been fortunate enough for the goodness that Mademoiselle had for me then to have taken effect.” Tears sprang into his eyes as he let the memory of what had once been wash over him.
D’Artagnan and Maupertuis saw that Lauzun now seemed to want to talk, and they asked him questions in an attempt to draw him out. The tactic worked, for Lauzun began to speak of his love for Mademoiselle, his tenderness and friendship for her, and his words aroused the sympathy of the musketeers, stirring feeling of friendship within them. Lauzun then fell into a profound grief and could speak no more. D’Artagnan would ask him when he wanted to have dinner, to take his supper, or at what time did he wish to depart in the morning, but the mournful Lauzun merely replied “just as you please.”
As the company retired each night in lodgings chosen for their security, Lauzun found it difficult to sleep. The ever-watchful d’Artagnan asked him, since he was not tired, if he would care to talk. Lauzun said that he did not, but d’Artagnan sensed that this was not quite true. Seeing that Lauzun often spoke about Mademoiselle, the musketeer said that he believed that she would be much afflicted by Lauzun’s plight. Lauzun agreed, but he hoped she would not offend the king. He asked if d’Artagnan knew Mademoiselle, and the musketeer answered that he had been to her house occasionally. It was all just small talk, designed to distract a melancholy prisoner and help pass the long, lonely hours of the night. Lauzun, however, expressed his concern that the friends he had left behind might poison Mademoiselle’s mind against him; he was not worried about his enemies, as he knew she would not listen to them. He chose his words carefully, anticipating that they would be conveyed back to her by the younger d’Artagnan.
Maupertuis spoke of war and the campaigns they had fought together. The conversation then turned to Lauzun’s horses, which he loved very much, and he drew up a list of people to whom they should be given. This he entrusted to d’Artagnan. He also begged the musketeer humbly to entreat Louis not to allow his sister, Mme de Nogent, or her husband to meddle in his affairs or to touch the little money he had left, his jewels, or his plate, none of which was very considerable.37
At last the journey, which had taken almost a month, came to an end. The carriage stopped outside the cold, dark fortress and Lauzun disembarked. He took a last breath of the fresh winter air before disappearing into the shadows of the donjon.
Saint-Mars lived in fear of the valets who served his prisoners falling ill. In February 1672, his fears were realized once again when Lauzun’s valet had an accident. He had burned his leg, and his injury had left him feverish and confined to bed.38 Louvois authorized Saint-Mars to engage a second man, someone who would be obliged to reveal everything his master did or said during the times Saint-Mars was unable to spy on his prisoner in person.39 Louvois, however, failed to understand the awkward position in which Saint-Mars found himself. It was almost impossible to find a replacement, he wrote to the minister. None of his own valets would do the job if he paid them a million: “They have seen that those I have placed with M. Foucquet never come out.”40
Shortly afterward, Lauzun came down with a heavy cold, his nights disturbed by fever.41 Saint-Mars now had a prisoner who was unwell, and a valet who was injured and too ill to do his job, and he was unable to find anyone willing to serve in prison because it was widely known that they would effectively become prisoners for the duration of their service. A temporary replacement was found, but a more permanent arrangement was required. After giving the matter some thought, he came up with what he considered to be the perfect answer. Recalling that the mysterious prisoner in the Lower Tower had been described as a valet, the best solution would surely be to put this man to work. Saint-Mars wrote to Louvois to explain his situation and how he could solve it:
It is so difficult to find valets here who are prepared to shut themselves up with my prisoners that I take the liberty to propose one to you. The prisoner who is in the tower, and whom you sent to me by M[onsieur] the major of Dunkirk, would be, it seems to me, a good valet. I do not think he would tell M. de Lauzun where he came from after I have forbidden him; I am sure that he will not give any information, nor would he tell me to leave him alone, as all the others have done.42
Louvois’s reply does not survive, but it is clear that the idea was rejected.
Saint-Mars dismissed the temporary valet as soon as Lauzun’s own recovered from his accident. By this time, Lauzun had come to realize that valets can become allies if treated properly. As it was, when Saint-Mars searched Lauzun upon his arrival at Pignerol, he found thirty sequins and a golden box, but he did not confiscate these items because, as he thought, Lauzun would not use them for anything contrary to the king’s service.43 How wrong he was. Lauzun used these treasures, as well as several gold coins that he had in his possession, to bribe his valet, winning him onto his side so that he would refuse to cooperate with Saint-Mars.
The jailer was frustrated by this, but not surprised. He should have expected such behavior since Foucquet had also managed to win over his valets. A vindictive Saint-Mars wrote: “Should that sly
fellow fall ill, I shall withdraw him from M. de Lauzun’s apartments, with your permission, and put him in a place that I have set apart.” This dreadful place “would make the dumb chatter when they have been there a month. I will know everything from him, and I am assured that he will not forget the slightest trifle to say to me.”44
As for Lauzun, he had calmed down sufficiently to be able to take stock of his situation. In March 1672, he made up his mind to explore his surroundings. The floor of his room was covered with planks of walnut wood. This type of wood had been chosen because it is very difficult to burn, but having spent the whole night on it, he and his valet managed to set fire to one of these planks. Now there was a hole in the floor the size of a plate, and this allowed Lauzun to raise the plank to see what lay beneath.45 Unfortunately, the sight and smell of the billowing smoke caught the attention of Saint-Mars and his staff. They rushed to the apartments and extinguished the fire. Saint-Mars understood straight away what his prisoner was up to, and he threated Lauzun that if he set another fire, he would leave him to it—the cries of Lauzun and his valet would not be heard. Lauzun protested that he was kneeling at his prier-Dieu next to his bed when the fire broke out, but Saint-Mars was not fooled.
Meanwhile, news of the fire reached Versailles, upon which Louvois wrote to Saint-Mars:
When monsieur de Lauzun burned the plank of his chamber, it was assuredly to see what was beneath, and if such a thing were to happen again, you must speak harshly to him, and tell him that you are keeping a watch on him. Moreover, you must pay him frequent visits, looking often under his bed to see that he has not lifted any planks to try to escape that way, and that, in addition, you must take all the precautions you can to keep him securely.46
“It would be a fine adventure,” commented Madame de Sévigné, “if he had burned poor M. Foucquet, who bears his imprisonment heroically and is not driven to despair.”47 It was little wonder that Saint-Mars felt justified in saying: “I believed that M. Foucquet was one of the wickedest prisoners to guard that could be found, but now I say that he is a lamb compared to” Lauzun.48
At about this time, news arrived of the deaths of two men who were close to Lauzun: his friend Guitry and his brother-in-law, Armand de Bautru, comte de Nogent. Louvois wrote to Saint-Mars to say that he could break this news of these deaths to Lauzun, but he gave no further information regarding how the men died, or what had become of Lauzun’s now widowed sister.49 When he was told of the tragedy, Lauzun at first thought Saint-Mars was playing a cruel joke, and asked if he was saying such things to make fun of him. He then realized that his jailer was sincere. The news was true. Lauzun he fell into a profound grief. These men were not only his friend and close relation, but they were, he said, the only people who could perhaps speak to the king on his behalf. Now, he believed that everyone would use this tragedy as an opportunity to hurt him even more.50
This news deeply affected Lauzun and he, as Foucquet had done, retreated into religion. He asked for, and was given, a picture of the Virgin, before which he would fall to his knees and pray. He fasted, told his beads, groomed his lengthening beard, and taught his valet to read.51 This period of calm turned out to be temporary, much to Saint-Mars’s dismay, for that summer, Lauzun provided the focus for a massive lapse of security at Pignerol.
The details are sketchy, but what is known is that several persons had tried to make contact with Lauzun. They had been engaged and financed, to the tune of six hundred pistoles, by Mlle de La Motte-Argencourt, one of Louis XIV’s mistresses from his youth who had entered the convent at Chaillot. Her motives behind the conspiracy have never been discerned. She engaged a certain Heurtaut, a Béarnaise who had once served Lauzun as valet de chambre, to liberate his former master. The conspiracy was coordinated locally by a Mme Carrière, an inhabitant of Pignerol. Also involved was a man named Plassot, Heurtaut’s cousin, and another named Loggier, while Mathonnet, a low-ranking soldier at the barracks, offered assistance.
The moment he received news of the plot, an alarmed Louvois wanted to know how far it had reached. More important, he wanted to know whether or not the conspirators had managed to make contact with Lauzun, and if so, what had he told them. It may be suggested that the minister for war was worried that Lauzun might have passed information about his secret visit to Holland, a sensitive subject given that France was now at war with the Dutch.
The French authorities immediately got to work to discover where the conspirators were hiding out. Assisted by their Savoyard counterparts, they tracked down Mme Carrière, Plassot, Loggier, and Mathonnet to Turin, and seized them. It appears that Loggier was killed in the skirmish, while the others were taken back to Pignerol. Heurtaut was captured near Turin, and when he was searched, he was found to be carrying letters written in cipher. He too was taken to Pignerol, where, after a month, he opened his veins with a lancet he had concealed in a pocket.52 Louvois told Saint-Mars to break the news of this turn of events to Lauzun and to watch him closely to see how he reacted to the death of his friend.53 “Provided he does not do anything tragic, like his good valet, Heurtaut,” wrote Saint-Mars, “all will be well.”54
That autumn, Foucquet’s wife, Marie-Madeleine de Castile, requested permission to send a letter and a mémoire—that is, a report or bill—to her husband. The task was not as straightforward as it might sound. Madame Foucquet first had to send the documents with an accompanying letter to Louvois, who, as usual, would read them out to the king. Louis would then decide whether or not to allow them to be sent to Foucquet. In this instance, he consented, upon which the letter and mémoire were placed in a packet with a covering letter and dispatched to Pignerol.
Even here, there were rigorous security protocols to observe. Louis ordered that Foucquet was to be allowed him to read these documents in Saint-Mars’s presence, after which the jailer could provide a copy, written in his own hand, if Foucquet wished him to do so, as well as a sheet of paper and writing materials so that “after he has thought about it for a few hours, he could set down his will in your presence.” Saint-Mars would then send Foucquet’s reply to Louvois, who would show it to Louis before passing it on to Mme Foucquet, should the king grant his consent.55 Saint-Mars, of course, obeyed his orders to the letter. The strong, towering walls of Pignerol were matched by the equally impenetrable bureaucracy that kept the prisoners virtually beyond the reach of their loved ones in the outside world.
Eventually, orders were given concerning the conspirators who had attempted to free Lauzun. Mme Carrière was released in October 1672, having given birth to a daughter in prison. At the same time, arrangements were set in train for the release of Mathonnet. He would be freed under a directive dated December 20, 1672, which also stipulated that he must resign his post.56 As for Plassot, Louvois ordered Saint-Mars to keep him in prison for now and to use whatever means necessary to force him to talk. He would be released on July 2, 1673, when it was finally accepted that he knew nothing of significance about the conspiracy to liberate Lauzun.57 Throughout the crisis, as with the earlier one with Foucquet, Louis and Louvois were concerned with whether or not Lauzun had managed to smuggle messages out and that he should not escape. Once they were satisfied that the conspiracy had been frustrated, they ceased to worry.
There was still another piece of misfortune in store for Lauzun, however. Since the spring, there had been talk at court of who should replace him as captain of the royal guard. Lauzun had held this post with a mixture of intense pleasure and pride, not least because it brought him into constant and intimate contact with the king, whom he idolized. The captaincy was eventually awarded to Jacques Henri de Durfort, duc de Duras, and the news was disseminated in the newspapers. Later, in November, Louvois suggested to Saint-Mars that he ought to reveal the news to Lauzun, as he would be required formally to resign his post.58 The marquis de Seignelay also sent a letter on the subject, writing directly to Lauzun:
The King orders me to write these lines to let you know that, as his Majesty w
ishes to dispose of your post of Captain of his Bodyguard. He would like you to send in your resignation; and he has already given orders to pay whoever you name the sum of 400,000 livres, as the price of the said post when resigned.59
Saint-Mars brought the letter and some writing materials to Lauzun and told him to read it and send his reply. Lauzun took the opportunity to rail against his jailer, accusing him of cruelty. He refused to agree to the sale of his post. Louvois, therefore, wrote directly to Lauzun, explaining to him the orders given to Saint-Mars with regard to his imprisonment. He noted that:
Saint-Mars has orders to keep you in the room which has been prepared for you, with the valet whom he has provided, without allowing either you or the said valet to go out, or that you shall give or receive news by word or writing. He has orders to allow you everything necessary for life which you may require, and never fail in any way in the respect due to your birth or to the rank you have held at Court; further, to give you any books he can obtain when you ask for them. Take, if you please, the trouble to examine well what he does in the future, and what he may have done in the past contrary to what I have shown you to be the King’s intentions, and tell me: I shall not fail to inform the King at once; and he will arrange so that the mistake shall not again happen.60
Louvois was a spiteful man who took delight in inflicting mental torment on the prisoners under his jurisdiction. This letter, which in the most polite terms explained to the hapless prisoner that his jailer had acted, and always would act, in accordance with the instructions laid down by the king, was intended to make Lauzun aware of the helplessness of his situation and to caution him to be grateful for the privileges that had been accorded to him by Louis.
The Man in the Iron Mask Page 5
