Read Ebook: The man with the iron mask by Topin Marius Vizetelly Henry Translator

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"Some months after the death of Mazarin," he says, "an event occurred which has no parallel, and what is no less strange, all the historians have ignored it. There was sent with the greatest secresy to the ch?teau of the Isle Sainte-Marguerite, in the Sea of Provence, an unknown prisoner, above the average height, and of a most handsome and noble countenance. This prisoner, on the journey, wore a mask, the chin-piece of which was furnished with steel springs, which left him free to eat with the mask covering his face. Orders had been given to kill him if he should remove it. He remained in the island till a confidential officer, named Saint-Mars, governor of Pignerol, having been appointed governor of the Bastille in 1690, went to fetch him in the Isle Sainte-Marguerite and conducted him to the Bastille, always masked. The Marquis de Louvois went to see him in this island before his removal, and spoke to him standing, and with a consideration which betokened respect. This unknown individual was taken to the Bastille, where he was lodged as well as he could be in the ch?teau. Nothing that he asked for was refused him. His greatest liking was for linen of an extraordinary fineness and for lace; he played on the guitar. He had the very best of everything, and the governor rarely sat down in his presence. An old doctor of the Bastille, who had often attended this singular man in his illnesses, has stated that he never saw his face, although he had examined his tongue and the rest of his body. He was admirably made, said this doctor; his skin was rather brown: he interested one by the mere tone of his voice, never complaining of his state, and not letting it be understood who he could be. This stranger died in 1703, and was interred during the night in the parish church of Saint-Paul. What redoubles one's astonishment is that at the period when he was sent to the Isle Sainte-Marguerite, there had disappeared from Europe no important personage. This prisoner was without doubt one, since this is what occurred shortly after his arrival in the island:--The governor himself used to place the dishes on the table, and then to withdraw after having locked him in. One day, the prisoner wrote with a knife on a silver plate, and threw the plate out of the window towards a boat which was on the shore, almost at the foot of the tower. A fisherman, to whom the boat belonged, picked up the plate and carried it to the governor. He, astonished, asked the fisherman: 'Have you read what is written on this plate, and has any one seen it in your possession?' 'I do not know how to read,' answered the fisherman; 'I have just found it, and nobody has seen it.' The peasant was detained until the governor had ascertained that he could not read, and that the plate had been seen by nobody. 'Go,' he then said to him, 'you are very lucky not to know how to read!'"

What improbabilities, what contradictions, what errors accumulated in a few pages! This unknown, whom no one, not even his doctor, has ever seen unmasked, has his face described as "handsome and noble;" Saint-Mars, named governor of the Bastille in 1690, and traversing the whole of France in order to fetch a prisoner, for whom during eight-and-twenty years another gaoler had sufficed; this mask with steel springs covering day and night the face of the unknown without affecting his health; this resignation which prevented his complaining of his position and which did not allow him to give any one a glimmering as to who he was, and this eagerness to throw out of his window silver plates on which he had written his name; this peculiar taste for fine linen, which Anne of Austria also possessed, and which revealed his origin; this haste on her part to confess her adultery to her enemy, the Cardinal de Richelieu; the Queen of France making only the Prime Minister the confidant of her confinement; and these two events, the birth and the abduction of a royal child, so well concealed that no contemporary memoir makes mention of them: such are the reflections which immediately suggest themselves on reading this story.

"Dame P?ronnette, the midwife, brought the Prince up as her own son, and he passed for being the bastard of some great lord of the time. The Cardinal confided him later to the governor to educate him as a King's son, and this governor took him into Burgundy to his own house. The Queen-mother seemed to fear that if the birth of this young Dauphin should be discovered, the malcontents would revolt, because many doctors think that the last-born of twin brothers is really the elder, and therefore King by right. Nevertheless, Anne of Austria could not prevail upon herself to destroy the documents which established this birth. The Prince, at the age of nineteen, became acquainted with this State secret by searching in a casket belonging to his governor, in which he discovered letters from the Queen and the Cardinals de Richelieu and Mazarin. But, in order better to assure himself of his true condition, he asked for portraits of the late and present Kings. The governor replied that what he had were so bad that he was waiting for better ones to be painted, in order to place them in his apartment. The young man proposed to go to Saint-Jean de Luz, where the court was staying, on account of the King's marriage with the Spanish Infanta, and compare himself with his brother. His governor detained him, and no longer quitted his side.

"The young Prince was then handsome as Cupid, and Cupid was very useful to him in getting him a portrait of his brother, for a servant with whom he had an intrigue procured him one. The Prince recognized himself, and rushed to his governor, exclaiming, 'This is my brother, and here is what I am!' The governor despatched a messenger to court to ask for fresh instructions. The order came to imprison them both together."

If, in this searching examination, we touch upon delicate points--if, in order to destroy the unjust accusations with which the memory of Anne of Austria has been defaced, we penetrate deeply into the details of her private life and that of her royal husband--we are drawn thither by those who, by carrying the debate on to this ground, compel us to follow them. We shall unhesitatingly touch upon each of the memories which they have not feared to recall, and nothing will be omitted that can throw light upon our proof. We shall, nevertheless, strive not to forget what is due to our readers, and the necessity of convincing them will not make us negligent of the obligation we are under of respecting them.

FOOTNOTES:

London, 1790. It is known that Soulavie used the notes and papers of the Marshal de Richelieu with such bad faith, that the Duke de Fronsac launched an energetic protest against his father's ex-secretary.

First Hypothesis--Portrait of Buckingham--Causes of his Visit to France--Ardour with which he was received--His Passion for Anne of Austria--Character of this Princess--Journey to Amiens--Scene in the Garden--The Remembrance that Anne of Austria preserved of it.

Giddy with a success which surpassed even his expectations, and dazzled by the splendour which he shed around him, he saw only the Queen of France worthy of his homage, and suddenly conceived for her the most vehement passion. Too frivolous to bury this sentiment in his heart, he displayed it with complacency, and his temerity increased with his ostentation. Anne of Austria was a Spaniard and a coquette. She understood gallantry such as her country-women had learned it from the Moors--that gallantry "which permits men to entertain without criminal intentions tender sentiments for women; which inspires in them fine actions, liberality, and all kinds of virtue." "She did not consider," says one who best knew Anne of Austria, "that the fine talk, which is ordinarily called honest gallantry, where no particular engagement is entered into, could ever be blamable."

So she tolerated with indulgence and without astonishment a passion congenial to her recollections of her country and her youth, and which, while flattering her self-esteem, did not at all shock her virtue. She received this homage of vanity with the complacency of coquetry, knowing herself to be most beautiful, most powerful, and most worthy of being loved. On Buckingham's side there was indiscreet persistence, multiplied signs of being in love, and eagerness to be near her; on hers, timid encouragement, gentle sternness, severity and pardon by turns in her looks appeared to Anne of Austria the natural and ordinary incidents of a gallantry where neither her honour nor even her reputation seemed exposed to any peril. Moreover, if numerous festivities gave them frequent opportunities of seeing one another, the court being always present at the many interviews of the Ambassador with the Queen, restrained and embarrassed the enterprising audacity of the one, but entirely justified the confidence of the other.

Two days afterwards Henrietta Maria quitted Amiens for Boulogne; Marie de Medicis and Anne of Austria accompanied her to the gates of the town. Anne of Austria was in a carriage with the Princess de Conti. It was there that Buckingham took leave of her. Bending down to bid her adieu, he covered himself with the window-curtain, in order to hide his tears, which fell profusely. The Queen was moved at this display of grief, and the Princess de Conti, "who gracefully rallied her, told her that she could answer to the King for her virtue, but that she would not do as much for her cruelty, as she suspected her eyes of having regarded this lover with some degree of pity."

Too passionately enamoured for separation to be able to cure him of his love, and excited still more to see Anne of Austria again by the recollection of his gross rashness, the Duke of Buckingham, whom unfavourable winds detained at Boulogne, returned suddenly to Amiens with Lord Holland, under pretence of having an important letter to deliver to Marie de Medicis, who, owing to a slight illness, had not quitted this town. "Returned again!" said Anne of Austria to Nogent-Bautru, on learning this news; "I thought that we were delivered from him." She had been bled that morning, and was in bed when the two English noblemen entered her chamber. Buckingham, blinded by his passion, threw himself on his knees before the Queen's bed, embracing the coverings with ecstasy, and exhibiting, to the great scandal of the ladies of honour, the impetuous sentiments which agitated him. The Countess de Lannoi wished to force him to rise, telling him, with severity, that such behaviour was not according to French customs. "I am not French," replied the Duke, and he continued, but always in the presence of several witnesses, to eloquently express his tenderness for the Queen. The latter, being very much embarrassed, could not at first say anything; then she complained of such boldness, but without a great deal of indignation; and it is probable that her heart took no part in the reproaches which she addressed to the duke. The next day he departed a second time for Boulogne, and never again saw the Queen of France.

"Je pensais que la destin?e, Apr?s tant d'injustes malheurs, Vous a justement couronn?e De gloire, d'?clat et d'honneurs; Mais que vous ?tiez plus heureuse Lorsque vous ?tiez autrefois, Je ne veux pas dire amoureuse, La rime le veut toutefois.

Je pensais Ce que, dans l'humeur o? vous ?tes, Vous feriez si, dans ce moment, Vous avisiez en cette place Venir le Duc de Buckingham, Et lequel serait en disgr?ce, De lui ou du p?re Vincent."

FOOTNOTES:

Hardwicke , vol. i. p. 571. Documents quoted in M. Guizot's work already cited, p. 332.

Retz places the Amiens scene at the Louvre, and does not neglect the opportunity of blackening the Queen's honour.

FOOTNOTES:

Despatch from M. de Vaucellas, November 20, 1610. Manuscripts quoted above.

Marguerite de Navarre.

Despatch of the Nuncio Bentivoglio, January 30, 1619.

Despatch of Contarini, ambassador from Venice, Jan. 27, 1619.

Despatch of the Nuncio Bentivoglio, December 4, 1619.

Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Manuscripts. Section France, vol. lxxxviii. fol. 99, and lxxxix. fols. 3, 23, 67, 78, and 103.

M. Michelet indicates another motive which it is only necessary to cite in order to show its improbability. "Richelieu," he says, "trusted in the weakness of the Queen's nature, and, consequently, that one day or other she would be involved in some embarrassment or thoughtlessness which would leave her at his mercy."

This date is given in Richelieu's Journal, of which we are about to speak.

According to the romance of Soulavie a second son came into the world at eight o'clock in the evening, nine hours after the first, and, conformably to the advice of Richelieu, was hidden, brought up mysteriously, and then placed in confinement. Let us remark, in the first place, that the Cardinal de Richelieu, who is made to play such an important part at Saint-Germain on September 5, 1638, had been absent from that place since the end of July, and was then at Saint-Quentin, whence he only returned to Paris on October 2. But do not let us stop at this first error. In cases of twins the presence of the second child is invariably denoted by signs impossible to be mistaken or passed over. Thus, even if the second birth did not at once follow the first, in which case it would have had for witnesses the whole of the persons assembled in the chamber, it would certainly have been anticipated, and an expectation such as this could not have been kept concealed from the crowd.

But how can it be admitted that a fact of such importance was known to so many persons without any of them betraying the secret in a conversation which would have been eagerly seized upon by some contemporary writer, or in one of those memoirs which numerous great personages then delighted in leaving behind them? And yet they all preserve the most complete silence on this subject. Contemporaries have told us everything about the veritable actions as well as the imaginary acts of Anne of Austria. They have penetrated to the recesses of her private life, but nothing in their writings, not even the most indirect allusion, permits one to suspect such an important event.

FOOTNOTES:

The child was said to have been brought in in a warming-pan.

This famous despatch, a fragment of which was timidly quoted some years ago in a work from which it has since been omitted,--this despatch, in the existence of which criticism had concluded to disbelieve, and which is of capital importance, actually does exist and is authentic. It was dictated by Barb?zieux, and addressed to Saint-Mars, at the moment when the latter had under his guardianship the prisoner whom he was to take with him to the Bastille, and who died there in 1703:--

FOOTNOTES:

All these facts come from official documents, authentic and transcribed by us. We shall give them further on when we introduce Saint-Mars into the story.

Archives of the Ministry of Marine; Archives of the Ministry of War; Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; Imperial Archives; Registers of the Secretary's Office of the King's Household.

Archives of the Ministry of Marine; Archives of the Ministry of War; Imperial Archives; Registers of the Secretary's Office of the King's Household.

Louvois had broken his leg the 3rd August, 1679. To complete the cure, which was slow, the doctors advised the Minister to go to Bar?ges. .

Despatches from Seignelay to Saint-Mars; Archives of the Ministry of Marine; Imperial Archives; Registers of the Secretary's Office of the King's Household.

There remains his premature death. Tacitus has said that when princes or extraordinary men die young, one finds it difficult to believe that they have been carried off by a natural course. This remark applies with justice to all epochs, and in our annals how many crimes are there, imagined by popular passion and credited through the ignorance of the time, of which a healthy criticism, aided by the progress of medical science, has in our days acquitted the pretended authors? Is there, in the last moments of Vermandois and in the transport of his remains to Arras, where he was buried, the smallest circumstance that can allow the most credulous mind to retain a single doubt, and to suppose that he left the camp of Courtray alive to be confided to the guardianship of Saint-Mars?

On November 6, 1683, the Count de Vermandois takes to his bed at Courtray. Ill for several days before, he has concealed his condition in order not to quit the army, and to be able to assist at the attack on the faubourg of Menin, where he displayed the highest courage.

FOOTNOTES:

That of High Admiral. See amongst the papers of Colbert, MSS. of the Imperial Library, a curious memorandum drawn up by him, "to know what name and title it is necessary to give to M. le Comte de Vermandois." Vermandois was endowed on November 12, 1669, at the age of twenty-two months, with this office of High Admiral of France, which, suppressed in 1626 by Richelieu, and changed by him into the office of "Grand Master, Chief, and General Superintendent of the Navigation and Commerce of France," had been held successively by the Cardinal himself; his nephew Armand de Maill?-Br?z?, Duke de Fronsac; Anne of Austria; C?sar, Duke de Vend?me; and his son Fran?ois de Vend?me, Duke de Beaufort.

Letter of the Pr?sidente d'Osembray, already cited.

Published by the Compagnie des Libraires Associ?s in 12mo.

We shall see, in the course of this work, that they succeeded in securing at least a portion of this enormous fortune, thanks to the imprisonment of Lauzun, the husband of Mademoiselle de Montpensier.

Dated November 4, 1683. The King to the Marquis de Montchevreuil. "Monsieur le Marquis de Montchevreuil--I have received the letter which you wrote to me from the camp of Courtray. I am very well pleased with what you tell me of my son, the Count de Vermandois. But I am not the less uneasy, as the Sieur d'Aquin has told me that the fever has become continuous. You have done well to take him to Lille" ; "he may remain there as long as may be needful for his health; but as soon as it allows him to travel I shall be pleased at his returning here. Having nothing else to add, except that I am always very well pleased at your conduct, I pray God to take you, Monsieur le Marquis de Montchevreuil, into his holy keeping.--LOUIS."

Archives of the Ministry of War; Letter from Marshal d'Humi?res to Louvois, "Camp of Courtray, November 7, 1683."

Letter from Madame de Maintenon to Madame de Brinon, of November 15, 1683.

Archives of the Ministry of War; Boufflers to Louvois, "Courtray, November 19, 1683."

Letter of Madame d'Osembray, December 22, 1683.

"All of which we have desired to make known to you by this letter, and to state that our intention is that you should conform to our will in this and assist in a body at this ceremony as is customary, on such occasions; and assuring ourselves that you will satisfy us in this, we do not make this present letter longer or more express; do not fail; for such is our pleasure.

"Given at Versailles, the xix November, 1683. Signed, "LOUIS," and lower down, "LE TELLIER."

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