CURIOSITIES IN HISTORY, &c.

Man with the Iron Mask.—There was a remarkable personage, so denominated, who existed as a state prisoner in France during the latter part of the seventeenth century. The circumstances of this person form an historical enigma, which has occasioned much inquiry, and many conjectures. The authenticated particulars concerning the Iron Mask are as follows:—A few months after the death of Cardinal Mazarin, there arrived at the isle of Saint Marguerite, in the sea of Provence, a young prisoner whose appearance was peculiarly attracting: his person was above the middle size, and elegantly formed; his mien and deportment were noble, and his manners graceful; and even the sound of his voice had in it something uncommonly interesting. On the road he constantly wore a mask made with iron springs, to enable him to eat without taking it off. It was at first believed that this mask was made entirely of iron, whence he acquired the title of The Man with the Iron Mask. His attendants had received orders to dispatch him, if he attempted to take off his mask or discover himself. He had been first confined at Pignerol, under the care of the governor, M. de St. Mars; and being sent thence to St. Marguerite, he was accompanied thither by the same person, who continued to have the charge of him. He was always treated with the utmost respect: he was served constantly in plate; and the governor himself placed his dishes on the table, retiring immediately after, and locking the door behind him. He tu-to’ yoit (thee’d and thou’d) the governor; who, on the other hand, behaved to him in the most respectful manner, and never wore his hat before him, nor ever sat down in his presence without being desired. The Marquis of Louvoisis, who went to see him at St. Marguerite, spoke to him standing, and with those marks of attention which denote high respect.

During his residence there, he attempted twice, in an indirect manner, to make himself known. One day he wrote something with his knife on a plate, and threw it out of his window, to a boat that was drawn on shore near the foot of the tower. A fisherman picked it up, and carried it to the governor. M. de St. Mars was alarmed at the sight; and asked the man with great anxiety, whether he could read, and whether any one else had seen the plate? The man answered, that he could not read, that he had but just found the plate, and that no one else had seen it. He was, however, confined till the governor was well assured of the truth of his assertions. Another attempt to discover himself proved equally unsuccessful. A young man who lived in the isle, one day perceived something floating under the prisoner’s window; and on picking it up, he discovered it to be a very fine shirt written all over. He carried it immediately to the governor; who, having looked at some parts of the writing, asked the lad, with some appearance of alarm, if he had not had the curiosity to read it? He protested repeatedly that he had not; but two days afterwards he was found dead in his bed. The Masque de Fer remained in that isle till 1698, when M. St. Mars, being promoted to the government of the Bastile, conducted his prisoner to that fortress. In his way thither, he stopt with him at his estate near Palteau. The Mask arrived there in a litter, surrounded by a numerous guard on horseback. M. de St. Mars ate at the same table with him all the time they resided at Palteau; but the latter was always placed with his back towards the windows; and the peasants, who came to pay their compliments to their master, whom curiosity kept constantly on the watch, observed that M. de St. Mars always sat opposite to him, with two pistols by the side of his plate. They were waited on by one servant only, who brought in and carried out the dishes, always carefully shutting the door, both in going out and returning. The prisoner was always masked, even when he passed through the court; but the people saw his teeth and lips, and observed that his hair was grey. The governor slept in the same room with him, in a second bed, that was placed in it on that occasion. In the course of his journey, the Mask was one day heard to ask his keeper, whether the king had any design on his life? “No, Prince,” he replied; “provided that you quietly allow yourself to be conducted, your life is perfectly secure.”

The stranger was accommodated as well as it was possible to be in the Bastile. An apartment had been prepared for him by order of the governor before his arrival, fitted up in the most convenient style; and every thing he expressed a wish for, was instantly procured him. His table was the best that could be provided, and he was supplied with as rich clothes as he desired; but his chief taste in this last particular was for lace, and for linen remarkably fine. He was allowed the use of such books as he requested, and he spent much of his time in reading. He also amused himself with playing on the guitar. He had the liberty of going to mass; but was then strictly forbid to speak, or uncover his face: orders were even given to the soldiers to fire upon him, if he attempted either; and their pieces were always pointed towards him as he passed through the court. When he had occasion to see a surgeon or a physician, he was obliged, under pain of death, constantly to wear his mask. An old physician of the Bastile, who had often attended him when he was indisposed, said, that he never saw his face, though he had frequently examined his tongue, and different parts of his body; and that he never complained of his confinement, nor let fall any hint, by which it might be guessed who he was. He often passed the night in walking up and down his room. This unfortunate prince died on the 19th of November, 1703, after a short illness; and was interred next day, in the burying-place of the parish of St. Paul. The expense of his funeral amounted only to forty livres. The name given him was Marchiali; and even his age, as well as his real name, it seemed of importance to conceal, for in the register made of his funeral, it was mentioned that he was about forty years old, though he had told his apothecary, some time before his death, that he thought he must be sixty. Immediately after his death, his apparel, linen clothes, mattresses, and in short, every thing that had been used by him, were burnt; the walls of his room were scraped, and the floor taken up, evidently from the apprehension that he might have found means of writing something that would have discovered who he was. Nay, such was the fear of his having left a letter, or any mark which might lead to a discovery, that his plate was melted down; the glass was taken out of the window of his room, and pounded to dust; the window-frames and doors burnt; and the ceiling of the room, and the plaster of the inside of the chimney, demolished.

Several writers have affirmed, that the body of this unfortunate personage was buried without a head; and M. de St. Foix informs us, in his Essais Historiques, that “a gentleman having bribed the sexton, had the body taken up in the night, but found a stone instead of the head.” The natural inference from these extraordinary accounts, is, that the Iron Mask was not only a person of high birth, but that he must have been of great consequence; and that his being concealed was of the utmost importance to the king and ministry.

Among the various conjectures that have been formed, concerning the real name and condition of this remarkable man, none appears to have any probability except the following:—That he was a son of Anne of Austria, queen to Louis XIII. and consequently that he was a brother of Louis XIV; but whether a bastard-brother, a brother-german, or a half-brother, is a question that has given rise to three several opinions, viz. 1. That the queen proved with child at a time when it was evident it could not have been by her husband, who, for some months before, had never been with her in private. The supposed father of this child is said to have been the duke of Buckingham, who came to France, in May, 1625, to conduct the princess Henrietta, wife of Charles I. to England. The private letters and memoirs of those times speak very suspiciously of the Queen and Buckingham: his behaviour at Amiens, whither the queen and queen-mother accompanied the princess in her way to Boulogne, occasioned much whispering; and it appears, that the king, on this occasion, was extremely offended at her, and that it required all the influence and address of the queen-mother to effect a reconciliation. It is said, that this child was privately brought up in the country; that when Mazarin became a favourite, he was entrusted with the care of him; and that Louis XIV. having discovered the secret on the death of the cardinal, thought it necessary to confine him in the manner above related.

The second, and the most probable opinion, is, that he was the twin-brother of Louis XIV. born some hours after him. This opinion first appeared in a short anonymous work, published without date, or name of place, or printer. It is therein said, “Louis XIV. was born at St. Germains-en-Laye, on the 5th of September, 1638, about noon; and the illustrious prisoner, known by the appellation of the Iron Mask, was born the same day, while Louis XIII. was at supper. The king and the cardinal, fearing that the pretensions of a twin-brother might one day be employed to renew those civil wars with which France had been so often afflicted, cautiously concealed his birth, and sent him away, to be brought up privately.” This opinion was confirmed, in a work, entitled, Memoires de Marechal Duc de Richelieu, written by the AbbÉ Soulavie; in which it is asserted, that “The birth of the prisoner happened in the evening of the 5th September, 1638, in presence of the chancellor, the bishop of Meaux, the author of the MS. a midwife, named PeronÉte, and a sieur Honorat.” This circumstance greatly disturbed the king’s mind; he observed, that the Salic law had made no provision for such a case. By the advice of cardinal Richelieu, it was therefore resolved to conceal his birth, but to preserve his life, in case, by the death of his brother, it should be necessary to avow him. A declaration was drawn up, and signed and sworn to by all present; in which every circumstance was mentioned, and several marks on his body described. This document being sealed by the chancellor with the royal seal, was delivered to the king; and all took an oath never to speak on the subject, not even in private and among themselves. The child was delivered to the care of Madame PeronÉte, to be under the direction of cardinal Richelieu, at whose death the charge devolved to cardinal Mazarin. Mazarin appointed the author of the MS. his governor, and entrusted to him the care of his education. But as the prisoner was extremely attached to Madame PeronÉte, and she equally so to him, she remained with him till her death. His governor carried him to his house in Burgundy, where he paid the greatest attention to his education.

“As the prisoner grew up, he became impatient to discover his birth, and often importuned his governor on that subject. His curiosity had been roused, by observing that messengers from the court frequently arrived at the house; and a box, containing letters from the queen and the cardinal, having one day been inadvertently left out, he opened it, and saw enough to guess at the secret. From that time he became thoughtful and melancholy, which, (says the author,) I could not then account for. He shortly after asked me to get him a portrait of the late and present king; but I put him off, by saying, that I could not procure any that were good. He then desired me to let him go to Dijon; which I have known since was with an intention of seeing a portrait of the king there, and of going secretly to St. John de Las, where the court then was, on occasion of the marriage with the Infanta. He was beautiful, and love helped him to accomplish his wishes. He had captivated the affections of a young housekeeper, who procured him a portrait of the king. It might have served for either of the brothers; and the discovery put him into so violent a passion, that he immediately came to me with the portrait in his hand, saying, Voila mon frere, et voila qui je suis, shewing me at the same time a letter of the cardinal de Mazarin that he had taken out of the box!” Upon this discovery, his governor immediately sent an express to court, to communicate what had happened, and to desire new instructions; the consequence of which was, that the governor, and the young prince under his care, were arrested and confined. The author of this memoir concludes, “I have suffered with him in our common prison: I am now summoned to appear before my Judge on high; and for the peace of my soul, I cannot but make this declaration, which may point out to him the means of freeing himself from his present ignominious situation, in case the king his brother should die without children. Can an extorted oath compel me to observe secrecy on a thing so incredible, but which ought to be left on record to posterity?”

The third opinion is, that he was a son of the queen by cardinal Mazarin, born about a year after the death of her husband, Louis XIII.; that he was brought up secretly; and that, soon after the death of the cardinal, on the 9th of March, 1661, he was sent to Pignerol. To this account Father Griffet justly objects, “that it was needless to mask a face that was unknown; and therefore this opinion does not merit discussion.”—(Traite de la VeritÉ de l’Histoire, p. 318.) Indeed, it seems totally unaccountable, that so much care should have been taken to conceal a child of the queen by the cardinal, who, whether they were privately married or not, could never have had the most distant claim to the crown of France. The conjectures advanced by other authors, that he was the duke of Monmouth’s, the count of Vermandois’, or the duke of Beaufort’s, &c. are still more improbable.