Originally published in Reynolds's Miscellany of Romance, General Literature, Science, and Art (John Dicks) vol.8 #208 (03 Jul 1852).
It is now satisfactorily ascertained that this famous individual—the hero of so many romances, and the object of so many conjectures—was Count Hercules Anthony Matthioli, a Minister of the Duke of Mantua. This fact is incontestibly proved by means of letters preserved in the Archives of France, which contain an account of the whole transaction, and which a certain M. Delort was permitted to inspect and publish.
Matthioli appears to have been a "ready Italian adventurer," who in the first instance sold himself, and the interest of his master, the Duke of Mantua, to the King of France, and afterwards being dissatisfied with the price which his dishonour produced him, transferred his services to the Spaniards; and thus frustrated the object which Louis XIV sought to achieve by his means, namely, the possession of Cassale, a paltry Italian town. The vindictive monarch determined to take the most signal vengeance for this act of treachery; and in order to execute his purpose, caused Matthioli to be inveighed into the French territory, under pretence of receiving a further sum of money, at a secret interview between him and the French plenipotentiary. He came to the appointed place on the 2nd of May, 1679, and was immediately put under arrest. The greatest secrecy was observed, "no one knowing the name of the rascal, not even the officers who assisted in arresting him;" and in order to perpetuate the mystery, the name of Lestang was given to him; "not a soul," remarks one of the letters, "knowing who he is."
These extraordinary precautions against discovery, and the one which appears to have been afterwards resorted to, of obliging him to wear a mask during his journeys, or when he saw any one, are not wonderful, when we reflect of the violent breach of the law of nations which has been committed by his imprisonment. Matthioli, at the time of his arrest, was actually the plenipotentiary of the Duke of Mantua, for concluding a treaty with the King of France; and for that very sovereign to kidnap him, and confine him in a dungeon, was certainly one of the most flagrant acts of violence that could be committed; one which, if known, would have had the most injurious effects upon the negotiations of Louis with other sovereigns; nay, would probably have indisposed other sovereigns from treating at all with him.
It is true the Duke of Mantua was a prince insignificant both in power and character; but if in this way might was allowed to overcome right, who could possibly tell whose turn would be the next? Besides, it was important for Louis that the Duke of Mantua should also be kept in good humour, the delivery of Cassale not having been effected; nor is it to be supposed that he would have consented to give it up to the French monarch within two years of this period, had he had a suspicion of the way his diplomatic agent, and intended Prime Minister, had been treated. The same reasons for concealment existed till the death of Matthioli, since that event happened while Louis XIV and the Duke of Mantua were still alive, which accounts for his confinement continuing to be always solitary, and always secret.
After several removals, Matthioli was at length conveyed to the Bastile, from which death released him on the 19th of November, 1703, after confinement for a period of twenty-four years. He was buried in the churchyard of St. Paul, at Paris, on the 20th of November, by the name of Marchiali. After his death every precaution was taken to prevent the name and misfortunes of the unhappy prisoner from being discovered. His clothes were burnt, as was also the furniture of the room; the silver plate, the copper, and the pewter, which had been used by him, were melted down; the walls of his chamber were first scraped, and then fresh whitewashed; the floor was new paved; the old ceiling was taken away, and renewed; the doors and windows were burnt; and every corner was searched in which it was thought any paper or linen, or other memorial of him, might be concealed.
Thus cautious was the rancorous and mean-spirited tyrant, Louis XIV, that his memory should not be loaded with the disgrace of this act of arbitrary cruelty; but the curious eye of M. Delort has rendered all his precautions vain. The historian has now one more trait to add to the character of this distinguished monarch, who seems to have contemplated with dignified satisfaction the secret revenge which his arbitrary authority enabled him to take upon a poor wretch, who may perhaps have been almost as devoid of principle as Louis himself, but who had not the power to become so illustrious a villain.