The Man With The Iron Mask
In the year 1662, the first year of the absolute reign of Louis XIV.,
there occurred an event without parallel in history, and which still
remains shrouded in the mystery in which it was from the first involved.
There was sent with the utmost secrecy to the Chateau of Pignerol an
unknown prisoner, whose identity was kept secret with the most extreme
care. All that can be said of him is that he was young, well-formed and
attractive in appearance, and above the usual stature. As for his face,
whether it were handsome or ill-favored, noble or base, no man could
say, for it was concealed by an impenetrable mask, the lower portion of
which was made movable by steel springs, so that he could eat with it
on, while the upper portion was immovably fixed.
This mysterious state prisoner remained for a number of years at
Pignerol, under charge of its governor, M. de Saint Mars, an officer of
the greatest discretion and trustworthiness. He was afterwards removed
to the castle of the Isle of Sainte Marguerite, on the coast of
Provence, where he remained for years in the same mysterious seclusion,
an object of the greatest curiosity on the part of all the people of the
prison, and of no less interest to the people of the kingdom, to whose
love of the marvellous the secrecy surrounding him appealed. The mask
was never removed, day or night, so far as any one could learn, while
conjecture sought in vain to discover who this mysterious personage
could be.
This much was certain, no person of leading importance had disappeared
from Europe in the year 1662. On the other hand, the masked prisoner was
treated with a consideration which could be looked for only by persons
of the highest birth. The Marquis of Louvois, minister of war under the
"Grand Monarque," was said to have visited him at Sainte Marguerite, and
to have treated him with the respect due to one of royal birth. He spoke
to him standing, as to one far his superior in station, and showed him
throughout the interview the greatest deference.
In 1698, M. de Saint Mars was made governor of the Bastille. He brought
with him this mysterious masked prisoner, whose secret it was apparently
not deemed advisable to intrust to a new governor of Sainte Marguerite.
As to what took place on the journey, we have some interesting details
in a letter from M. de Formanoir, grand nephew of Saint Mars.
"In 1698, M. de Saint Mars exchanged the governorship of the islands
[Sainte Marguerite and Sainte Honnat] for that of the Bastille. When he
set out to enter on his new office he stayed with his prisoner for a
short time at Palteau, his estate. The mask arrived in a litter which
preceded that of M. de Saint Mars; they were accompanied by several men
on horseback. The peasants went out to meet their seigneur. M. de Saint
Mars took his meals with his prisoner, who sat with his back towards the
windows of the room, which looked into the court-yard. The peasants of
whom I made inquiry could not see if he had his mask on when eating; but
they observed that M. de Saint Mars, who sat opposite to him at table,
had a pair of pistols beside his plate. They were attended by a single
valet only, Antoine Ru, who took away the dishes set down to him in an
antechamber, having first carefully shut the door of the dining-room.
When the prisoner crossed the court-yard a black mask was always on his
face."
The extreme caution here indicated was continued until the prisoner
reached the Bastille. With regard to his life in this fortress we are
better informed, since it must be acknowledged that the record of his
previous prison life is somewhat obscure. All that seems well
established is that he was one of the "two prisoners of the Lower Tower"
at Pignerol, in 1681; that he was spoken of to Saint Mars as "your
ancient prisoner," and "your prisoner of twenty years' standing;" that
in 1687 he was removed from Exiles to Sainte Marguerite with the same
care and secrecy observed in the journey to the Bastille, his jailer
accompanying him to the new prison, and that throughout he was under the
care of the relentless Saint Mars.
Of the life of this remarkable state prisoner in the Bastille we have
more detailed accounts. Dujunca, the chief turnkey of that prison, has
left a journal, which contains the following entry: "On Thursday, the
18th September, 1698, at three o'clock in the afternoon, M. de Saint
Mars, the governor, arrived at the Bastille for the first time from the
islands of Sainte Marguerite and Sainte Honnat. He brought with him in
his own litter an ancient prisoner formerly under his care at Pignerol,
and whose name remains untold. This prisoner was always kept masked, and
was at first lodged in the Basiniere tower.... I conducted him
afterwards to the Bertaudiere tower, and put him in a room, which, by
order of M. de Saint Mars, I had furnished before his arrival."
Throughout the life of this mysterious personage in the Bastille, the
secrecy which had so far environed him was rigidly observed. So far as
is known, no one ever saw him without his mask. Aside from this, and his
detention, everything that could be was done to make his life enjoyable.
He was given the best accommodation the Bastille afforded. Nothing that
he desired was refused him. He had a strong taste for lace and linen of
extreme fineness, and his wishes in this particular were complied with.
His table was always served in the most elegant manner, while the
governor, who frequently attended him, seldom sat in his presence.
During his intervals of ailment he was attended by the old doctor of the
Bastille, who, while often examining his tongue and parts of his body,
never saw his face. He represents him as very finely shaped, and of
somewhat brownish complexion, with an agreeable and engaging voice. He
never complained, nor gave any hint as to who he was, and throughout his
whole prison life no one gained the least clue to his identity. The only
instance in which he attempted to make himself known is described by
Voltaire, who tells us that while at Sainte Marguerite he threw out from
the grated window of his cell a piece of fine linen, and a silver plate
on which he had traced some strange characters. This, however, is an
unauthenticated story.
The detention of this mysterious prisoner in the Bastille was not an
extended one. He died in 1703. Dujunca's journal tells the story of his
death. "On Monday, the 19th of November, 1703, the unknown prisoner, who
had continually worn a black velvet mask, and whom M. de Saint Mars had
brought with him from the island of Sainte Marguerite, died to-day at
about ten o'clock in the evening, having been yesterday taken slightly
ill. He had been a long time in M. de Saint Mars' hands, and his illness
was exceedingly trifling."
There is one particular of interest in this record. The "iron mask"
appears to have been really a mask of black velvet, the only iron about
it being the springs, which permitted the lower part to be lifted.
The question now arises, Who was the "man with the iron mask"? It is a
question which has been long debated, without definite conclusion.
Chamillard was the last minister of Louis XIV. who knew this secret.
When he was dying, his son-in-law, Marshal de Feuillade, begged him on
his knees to reveal the mystery. He begged in vain. Chamillard answered
that it was a secret of state, which he had sworn never to reveal, and
he died with it untold.
Voltaire, in his "Age of Louis XIV.," was the first to call special
attention to this mystery, and since then numerous conjectures have been
made as to who the Iron Mask really was. One writer has suggested that
he was an illegitimate son of Anne of Austria, the queen-mother. Another
identifies him with a supposed twin brother of Louis XIV., whose birth
Richelieu had concealed. Others make him the Count of Vermandois, an
illegitimate son of Louis XIV.; the Duke of Beaufort, a hero of the
Fronde; the Duke of Monmouth, the English pretender of 1685; Fouquet,
Louis's disgraced minister of finance; a son of Cromwell, the English
protector; and various other wild and unfounded guesses. After all has
been said, the identity of the prisoner remains unknown. Mattioli, a
diplomatic agent of the Duke of Mantua, who was long imprisoned at
Pignerol and at Sainte Marguerite, was for a long time generally thought
to be the Iron Mask, but there is good reason to believe that he died in
1694.
Conjecture has exhausted itself, and yet the identity of this strange
captive remains a mystery, and is likely always to continue so. The
fact that all the exalted personages of the day can be traced renders it
probable that the veiled prisoner was really an obscure individual, whom
the caprice of Louis XIV. surrounded with conditions intended to excite
the curiosity of the public. There are on record other instances of
imprisonment under similar conditions of inviolate secrecy, and it is
not impossible that the king may have endeavored, for no purpose higher
than whim, to surround the story of this one with unbroken mystery. If
such were his purpose it has succeeded, for there is no more mysterious
person in history than the Man with the Iron Mask.