it first, then the queen's confessor, and I last. The oath was also
signed by the surgeon and midwife who attended on the queen, and the
king attached this document to the report, taking both away with him,
and I never heard any more of either. I remember that His Majesty
consulted with the chancellor as to the form of the oath, and that he
spoke for a long time in an undertone to the cardinal: after which the
last-born child was given into the charge of the midwife, and as they
were always afraid she would babble about his birth, she has told me
that they often threatened her with death should she ever mention it: we
were also forbidden to speak, even to each other, of the child whose
birth we had witnessed.
"'Not one of us has as yet violated his oath; for His Majesty dreaded
nothing so much as a civil war brought about by the two children born
together, and the cardinal, who afterwards got the care of the second
child into his hands, kept that fear alive. The king also commanded us
to examine the unfortunate prince minutely; he had a wart above the left
elbow, a mole on the right side of his neck, and a tiny wart on his
right thigh; for His Majesty was determined, and rightly so, that in
case of the decease of the first-born, the royal infant whom he was
entrusting to our care should take his place; wherefore he required our
signmanual to the report of the birth, to which a small royal seal was
attached in our presence, and we all signed it after His Majesty,
according as he commanded. As to the shepherds who had foretold the
double birth, never did I hear another word of them, but neither did I
inquire. The cardinal who took the mysterious infant in charge probably
got them out of the country.
"'All through the infancy of the second prince Dame Peronete treated him
as if he were her own child, giving out that his father was a great
nobleman; for everyone saw by the care she lavished on him and the
expense she went to, that although unacknowledged he was the cherished
son of rich parents, and well cared for.
"'When the prince began to grow up, Cardinal Mazarin, who succeeded
Cardinal Richelieu in the charge of the prince's education, gave him
into my hands to bring up in a manner worthy of a king's son, but in
secret. Dame Peronete continued in his service till her death, and was
very much attached to him, and he still more to her. The prince was
instructed in my house in Burgundy, with all the care due to the son and
brother of a king.
"'I had several conversations with the queen mother during the troubles
in France, and Her Majesty always seemed to fear that if the existence
of the prince should be discovered during the lifetime of his brother,
the young king, malcontents would make it a pretext for rebellion,
because many medical men hold that the last-born of twins is in reality
the elder, and if so, he was king by right, while many others have a
different opinion.
"'In spite of this dread, the queen could never bring herself to destroy
the written evidence of his birth, because in case of the death of the
young king she intended to have his twin-brother proclaimed. She told me
often that the written proofs were in her strong box.
"'I gave the ill-starred prince such an education as I should have liked
to receive myself, and no acknowledged son of a king ever had a better.
The only thing for which I have to reproach myself is that, without
intending it, I caused him great unhappiness; for when he was nineteen
years old he had a burning desire to know who he was, and as he saw that
I was determined to be silent, growing more firm the more he tormented
me with questions, he made up his mind henceforward to disguise his
curiosity and to make me think that he believed himself a love-child of
my own. He began to call me 'father,' although when we were alone I
often assured him that he was mistaken; but at length I gave up
combating this belief, which he perhaps only feigned to make me speak,
and allowed him to think he was my son, contradicting him no more; but
while he continued to dwell on this subject he was meantime making every
effort to find out who he really was. Two years passed thus, when,
through an unfortunate piece of forgetfulness on my part, for which I
greatly blame myself, he became acquainted with the truth. He knew that
the king had lately sent me several messengers, and once having
carelessly forgotten to lock up a casket containing letters from the
queen and the cardinals, he read part and divined the rest through his
natural intelligence; and later confessed to me that he had carried off
the letter which told most explicitly of his birth.
"'I can recall that from this time on, his manner to me showed no longer
that respect for me in which I had brought him up, but became hectoring
and rude, and that I could not imagine the reason of the change, for I
never found out that he had searched my papers, and he never revealed to
me how he got at the casket, whether he was aided by some workmen whom
he did not wish to betray, or had employed other means.
"'One day, however, he unguardedly asked me to show him the portraits of
the late and the present king. I answered that those that existed were
so poor that I was waiting till better ones were taken before having
them in my house.
"'This answer, which did not satisfy him, called forth the request to be
allowed to go to Dijon. I found out afterwards that he wanted to see a
portrait of the king which was there, and to get to the court, which was
just then at Saint-Jean-de-Luz, because of the approaching marriage with
the infanta; so that he might compare himself with his brother and see
if there were any resemblance between them. Having knowledge of his
plan, I never let him out of my sight.
"'The young prince was at this time as beautiful as Cupid, and through
the intervention of Cupid himself he succeeded in getting hold of a
portrait of his brother. One of the upper servants of the house, a young
girl, had taken his fancy, and he lavished such caresses on her and
inspired her with so much love, that although the whole household was
strictly forbidden to give him anything without my permission, she
procured him a portrait of the king. The unhappy prince saw the likeness
at once, indeed no one could help seeing it, for the one portrait would
serve equally well for either brother, and the sight produced such a fit
of fury that he came to me crying out, "There is my brother, and this
tells me who I am!" holding out a letter from Cardinal Mazarin which he
had stolen from me, and making a great commotion in my house.
"'The dread lest the prince should escape and succeed in appearing at
the marriage of his brother made me so uneasy, that I sent off a
messenger to the king to tell him that my casket had been opened, and
asking for instructions. The king sent back word through the cardinal
that we were both to be shut up till further orders, and that the prince
was to be made to understand that the cause of our common misfortune was
his absurd claim. I have since shared his prison, but I believe that a
decree of release has arrived from my heavenly judge, and for my soul's
health and for my ward's sake I make this declaration, that he may know
what measures to take in order to put an end to his ignominious estate
should the king die without children. Can any oath imposed under threats
oblige one to be silent about such incredible events, which it is
nevertheless necessary that posterity should know?'"
Such were the contents of the historical document given by the regent to
the princess, and it suggests a crowd of questions. Who was the prince's
governor? Was he a Burgundian? Was he simply a landed proprietor, with
some property and a country house in Burgundy? How far was his estate
from Dijon? He must have been a man of note, for he enjoyed the most
intimate confidence at the court of Louis XIII, either by virtue of his
office or because he was a favourite of the king, the queen, and
Cardinal Richelieu. Can we learn from the list of the nobles of Burgundy
what member of their body disappeared from public life along with a
young ward whom he had brought up in his own house just after the
marriage of Louis XIV? Why did he not attach his signature to the
declaration, which appears to be a hundred years old? Did he dictate it
when so near death that he had not strength to sign it? How did it find
its way out of prison? And so forth.
There is no answer to all these questions, and I, for my part, cannot
undertake to affirm that the document is genuine. Abbe Soulavie relates
that he one day "pressed the marshal for an answer to some questions on
the matter, asking, amongst other things, if it were not true that the
prisoner was an elder brother of Louis XIV born without the knowledge of
Louis XIII. The marshal appeared very much embarrassed, and although he
did not entirely refuse to answer, what he said was not very
explanatory. He averred that this important personage was neither the
illegitimate brother of Louis XIV, nor the Duke of Monmouth, nor the
Comte de Vermandois, nor the Duc de Beaufort, and so on, as so many
writers had asserted." He called all their writings mere inventions, but
added that almost every one of them had got hold of some true incidents,
as for instance the order to kill the prisoner should he make himself
known. Finally he acknowledged that he knew the state secret, and used
the following words: "All that I can tell you, abbe, is, that when the
prisoner died at the beginning of the century, at a very advanced age,
he had ceased to be of such importance as when, at the beginning of his
reign, Louis XIV shut him up for weighty reasons of state."
The above was written down under the eyes of the marshal, and when Abbe
Soulavie entreated him to say something further which, while not
actually revealing the secret, would yet satisfy his questioner's
curiosity, the marshal answered, "Read M. de Voltaire's latest writings
on the subject, especially his concluding words, and reflect on them."
With the exception of Dulaure, all the critics have treated Soulavie's
narrative with the most profound contempt, and we must confess that if
it was an invention it was a monstrous one, and that the concoction of
the famous note in cipher was abominable. "Such was the great secret; in
order to find it out, I had to allow myself 5, 12, 17, 15, 14, 1, three
times by 8, 3." But unfortunately for those who would defend the morals
of Mademoiselle de Valois, it would be difficult to traduce the
character of herself, her lover, and her father, for what one knows of
the trio justifies one in believing that the more infamous the conduct
imputed to them, the more likely it is to be true. We cannot see the
force of the objection that Louvois would not have written in the
following terms to Saint-Mars in 1687 about a bastard son of Anne of
Austria: "I see no objection to your removing Chevalier de Thezut from
the prison in which he is confined, and putting your prisoner there till
the one you are preparing for him is ready to receive him." And we
cannot understand those who ask if Saint-Mars, following the example of
the minister, would have said of a prince "Until he is installed in the
prison which is being prepared for him here, which has a chapel
adjoining"? Why should he have expressed himself otherwise? Does it
evidence an abatement of consideration to call a prisoner a prisoner,
and his prison a prison?
A certain M. de Saint-Mihiel published an 8vo volume in 1791, at
Strasbourg and Paris, entitled 'Le veritable homme, dit au MASQUE DE
FER, ouvrage dans lequel on fait connaitre, sur preuves incontestables,
a qui le celebre infortune dut le jour, quand et ou il naquit'. The
wording of the title will give an idea of the bizarre and barbarous
jargon in which the whole book is written. It would be difficult to
imagine the vanity and self-satisfaction which inspire this new reader
of riddles. If he had found the philosopher's stone, or made a discovery
which would transform the world, he could not exhibit more pride and
pleasure. All things considered, the "incontestable proofs" of his
theory do not decide the question definitely, or place it above all
attempts at refutation, any more than does the evidence on which the
other theories which preceded and followed his rest. But what he lacks
before all other things is the talent for arranging and using his
materials. With the most ordinary skill he might have evolved a theory
which would have defied criticism at least as successfully, as the
others, and he might have supported it by proofs, which if not
incontestable (for no one has produced such), had at least moral
presumption in their favour, which has great weight in such a mysterious
and obscure affair, in trying to explain, which one can never leave on
one side, the respect shown by Louvois to the prisoner, to whom he
always spoke standing and with uncovered head.
According to M. de Saint-Mihiel, the 'Man in the Iron Mask was a
legitimate son of Anne of Austria and Mazarin'.
He avers that Mazarin was only a deacon, and not a priest, when he
became cardinal, having never taken priest's orders, according to the
testimony of the Princess Palatine, consort of Philip I, Duc d'Orleans,
and that it was therefore possible for him to marry, and that he did
marry, Anne of Austria in secret.
"Old Madame Beauvais, principal woman of the bed-chamber to the queen
mother, knew of this ridiculous marriage, and as the price of her
secrecy obliged the queen to comply with all her whims. To this
circumstance the principal bed-chamber women owe the extensive
privileges accorded them ever since in this country" (Letter of the
Duchesse d'Orleans, 13th September 1713).
"The queen mother, consort of Louis XIII, had done worse than simply to
fall in love with Mazarin, she had married him, for he had never been an
ordained priest, he had only taken deacon's orders. If he had been a
priest his marriage would have been impossible. He grew terribly tired
of the good queen mother, and did not live happily with her, which was
only what he deserved for making such a marriage" (Letter of the
Duchesse d'Orleans, 2nd November 1717).
"She (the queen mother) was quite easy in her conscience about Cardinal
Mazarin; he was not in priest's orders, and so could marry. The secret
passage by which he reached the queen's rooms every evening still exists
in the Palais Royal" (Letter of the Duchesse d'Orleans, 2nd July 1719)
"The queen's, manner of conducting affairs is influenced by the passion
which dominates her. When she and the cardinal converse together, their
ardent love for each other is betrayed by their looks and gestures; it
is plain to see that when obliged to part for a time they do it with
great reluctance. If what people say is true, that they are properly
married, and that their union has been blessed by Pere Vincent the
missioner, there is no harm in all that goes on between them, either in
public or in private" ['Requete civile contre la Conclusion de la Paix,
1649).
The Man in the Iron Mask told the apothecary in the Bastille that he
thought he was about sixty years of age ['Questions sur
d'Encyclopedie'). Thus he must have been born in 1644, just at the time
when Anne of Austria was invested with the royal power, though it was
really exercised by Mazarin.
Can we find any incident recorded in history which lends support to the
supposition that Anne of Austria had a son whose birth was kept as
secret as her marriage to Mazarin?
"In 1644, Anne of Austria being dissatisfied with her apartments in the
Louvre, moved to the Palais Royal, which had been left to the king by
Richelieu. Shortly after taking up residence there she was very ill with
a severe attack of jaundice, which was caused, in the opinion of the
doctors, by worry, anxiety, and overwork, and which pulled her down
greatly" ['Memoire de Madame de Motteville, 4 vols. 12mo, Vol i. p.
194).
"This anxiety, caused by the pressure of public business, was most
probably only dwelt on as a pretext for a pretended attack of illness.
Anne of Austria had no cause for worry and anxiety till 1649. She did
not begin to complain of the despotism of Mazarin till towards the end
of 1645" (Ibid., viol. i. pp. 272, 273).
"She went frequently to the theatre during her first year of widowhood,
but took care to hide herself from view in her box." (Ibid., vol. i. p.
342).
Abbe Soulavie, in vol. vi. of the 'Memoires de Richelieu', published in
1793, controverted the opinions of M. de Saint-Mihiel, and again
advanced those which he had published some time before, supporting them
by a new array of reasons.
The fruitlessness of research in the archives of the Bastille, and the
importance of the political events which were happening, diverted the
attention of the public for some years from this subject. In the year
1800, however, the 'Magazin encyclopedique' published (vol. vi. p. 472)
an article entitled 'Memoires sur les Problemes historiques, et la
methode de les resoudre appliquee a celui qui concerne l'Homme au Masque
de Fer', signed C. D. O., in which the author maintained that the
prisoner was the first minister of the Duke of Mantua, and says his name
was Girolamo Magni.
In the same year an octavo volume of 142 pages was produced by M.
Roux-Fazillac. It bore the title 'Recherches historiques et critiques
sur l'Homme au Masque de Fer, d'ou resultent des Notions certaines sur
ce prisonnier'. These researches brought to light a secret
correspondence relative to certain negotiations and intrigues, and to
the abduction of a secretary of the Duke of Mantua whose name was
Matthioli, and not Girolamo Magni.
In 1802 an octavo pamphlet containing 11 pages, of which the author was
perhaps Baron Lerviere, but which was signed Reth, was published. It
took the form of a letter to General Jourdan, and was dated from Turin,
and gave many details about Matthioli and his family. It was entitled
'Veritable Clef de l'Histoire de l'Homme au Masque de Fer'. It proved
that the secretary of the Duke of Mantua was carried off, masked, and
imprisoned, by order of Louis XIV in 1679, but it did not succeed in
establishing as an undoubted fact that the secretary and the Man in the
Iron Mask were one and the same person.
It may be remembered that M. Crawfurd writing in 1798 had said in his
'Histoire de la Bastille' (8vo, 474 pages), "I cannot doubt that the Man
in the Iron Mask was the son of Anne of Austria, but am unable to decide
whether he was a twin-brother of Louis XIV or was born while the king
and queen lived apart, or during her widowhood." M. Crawfurd, in his
'Melanges d'Histoire et de Litterature tires dun Portefeuille' (quarto
1809, octavo 1817), demolished the theory advanced by Roux-Fazillac.
In 1825, M. Delort discovered in the archives several letters relating
to Matthioli, and published his Histoire de l'Homme au Masque de Fer
(8vo). This work was translated into English by George Agar-Ellis, and
retranslated into French in 1830, under the title 'Histoire authentique
du Prisonnier d'Etat, connu sons le Nom de Masque de Fer'. It is in this
work that the suggestion is made that the captive was the second son of
Oliver Cromwell.
In 1826, M. de Taules wrote that, in his opinion, the masked prisoner
was none other than the Armenian Patriarch. But six years later the
great success of my drama at the Odeon converted nearly everyone to the
version of which Soulavie was the chief exponent. The bibliophile Jacob
is mistaken in asserting that I followed a tradition preserved in the
family of the Duc de Choiseul; M. le Duc de Bassano sent me a copy made
under his personal supervision of a document drawn up for Napoleon,
containing the results of some researches made by his orders on the
subject of the Man in the Iron Mask. The original MS., as well as that
of the Memoires du Duc de Richelieu, were, the duke told me, kept at the
Foreign Office. In 1834 the journal of the Institut historique published
a letter from M. Auguste Billiard, who stated that he had also made a
copy of this document for the late Comte de Montalivet, Home Secretary
under the Empire.
M. Dufey (de l'Yonne) gave his 'Histoire de la Bastille' to the world
in the same year, and was inclined to believe that the prisoner was
a son of Buckingham.
Besides the many important personages on whom the famous mask had been
placed, there was one whom everyone had forgotten, although his name had
been put forward by the minister Chamillart: this was the celebrated
Superintendent of Finance, Nicolas Fouquet. In 1837, Jacob, armed with
documents and extracts, once more occupied himself with this Chinese
puzzle on which so much ingenuity had been lavished, but of which no one
had as yet got all the pieces into their places. Let us see if he
succeeded better than his forerunners.
The first feeling he awakes is one of surprise. It seems odd that he
should again bring up the case of Fouquet, who was condemned to
imprisonment for life in 1664, confined in Pignerol under the care of
Saint-Mars, and whose death was announced (falsely according to Jacob)
on March 23rd, 1680. The first thing to look for in trying to get at the
true history of the Mask is a sufficient reason of state to account for
the persistent concealment of the prisoner's features till his death;
and next, an explanation of the respect shown him by Louvois, whose
attitude towards him would have been extraordinary in any age, but was
doubly so during the reign of Louis XIV, whose courtiers would have been
the last persons in the world to render homage to the misfortunes of a
man in disgrace with their master. Whatever the real motive of the
king's anger against Fouquet may have been, whether Louis thought he
arrogated to himself too much power, or aspired to rival his master in
the hearts of some of the king's mistresses, or even presumed to raise
his eyes higher still, was not the utter ruin, the lifelong captivity,
of his enemy enough to satiate the vengeance of the king? What could he
desire more? Why should his anger, which seemed slaked in 1664, burst
forth into hotter flames seventeen years later, and lead him to inflict
a new punishment? According to the bibliophile, the king being wearied
by the continual petitions for pardon addressed to him by the
superintendent's family, ordered them to be told that he was dead, to
rid himself of their supplications. Colbert's hatred, says he, was the
immediate cause of Fouquet's fall; but even if this hatred hastened the
catastrophe, are we to suppose that it pursued the delinquent beyond the
sentence, through the long years of captivity, and, renewing its energy,
infected the minds of the king and his councillors? If that were so, how
shall we explain the respect shown by Louvois? Colbert would not have
stood uncovered before Fouquet in prison. Why should Colbert's colleague
have done so?
It must, however, be confessed that of all existing theories, this one,
thanks to the unlimited learning and research of the bibliophile, has
the greatest number of documents with the various interpretations
thereof, the greatest profusion of dates, on its side.
For it is certain--
1st, that the precautions taken when Fouquet was sent to Pignerol
resembled in every respect those employed later by the custodians of the
Iron Mask, both at the Iles Sainte-Marguerite and at the Bastille;
2nd, that the majority of the traditions relative to the masked prisoner
might apply to Fouquet;
3rd, that the Iron Mask was first heard of immediately after the
announcement of the death of Fouquet in 1680;
4th, that there exists no irrefragable proof that Fouquet's death really
occurred in the above year.