The recital of Mirabeau's captivity throws into curious relief the inner life of the dungeon. The governor was a certain De Rougemont, of most unrighteous memory, whom Latude describes as having written his name in blood on the walls of every cell. Elsewhere the same narrator says that prisoners occasionally strangled themselves to escape the rage of De Rougemont, who was seventeen years in charge of Vincennes. The fiery, impetuous Mirabeau was ceaselessly at variance with this "despotic ape," who delighted in trying to repress by the most contemptible annoyances that irrepressible spirit. Complaint was a fault in the eyes of De Rougemont, impatience a crime. The future tribune,[9] whose head was always in the clouds, complained incessantly and was impatience incarnate. Night or day he gave his gaoler no peace. Mirabeau's lodging in the fortress was a small tower-chamber between the second and third story, rarely visited by the sun; it was in existence fifty years ago, and bore the number 28. De Rougemont began by submitting him to all the rigours of "the rules." Mirabeau demanded leave to write, it was refused; to read, it was refused; to take a daily airing, it was refused. He could not get scissors to cut his hair, nor a barber to dress it for him. He was four months in altercation with De Rougemont before he could obtain the use of a blunt table-knife. He could not get at his trunk to procure himself a change of linen. Footnote 9: He was imprisoned mainly on the order of the Marquis de Mirabeau, his father, whose lifelong jealousy of that brilliant son is matter of history; a finished example of the domestic bully, and a matchless humbug and hypocrite, whose every action gave the lie to his by-name _Friend of Man_. In the course of his life, the Marquis procured no fewer than fifty _lettres de cachet_ against members of his own family. [Illustration: MIRABEAU ON THE TERRACE OF VINCENNES.] "Is it by 'the rules' that my trunk is kept from me?" he demanded of the governor. "What need have you of your trunk?" "Need! I want clothes and linen. I am still wearing what I brought into this rat-hole!" "What does it matter? You see no company here." "I am to go foul, then, because I see no company! Is that your rule? Once more, let me have my trunk." "We have not the key of it." "Send for a locksmith,—an affair of an hour." "Where am I to find the hour? Have I no one and nothing else to attend to? Are you the only prisoner here?" "That is no answer. You are here to take care of your prisoners. Give me my trunk, I tell you!" "_It is against the rules._ We shall see by-and-bye." "As usual! 'We shall see.' In the meantime perhaps you will have the goodness to send a barber to shave me and cut my hair." "Ah! I must speak about that to the minister." "What! The minister's permission to——" "Yes. _It is the rule._" "Indeed! The doctor said as much, but I refused to credit him." "You were wrong, you see!"