The man with the iron mask

by Marius Topin

was also given a name unknown to monsieur de rosarges major and Mr. Reil surgeon who have signed the register.

“

I have since learnt that he was named on the register M. de Marchiel [and] that 40 l. were paid for his burial.”[287]

For every unprejudiced and impartial reader, these unaffected pages are conclusive, and do not inspire any doubt. But it is not the same for Taulès. According to him, Father Griffet himself, and not Dujonca, is the author of this document, in which, with infinite art, he has introduced several points of obscurity, and succeeded in misleading for ever all those who should be tempted to raise the veil. He has commenced by imagining the two dates of 1698 and 1703, so that it would be impossible to apply them to Avedick, who was still at Constantinople in 1706. It is designedly that, with an infinity of precautions, he has drawn attention to this fact which he had invented at will: “Saint-Mars had this prisoner at Pignerol,” a point on which he insists by saying further on: “This prisoner whom he had guarded since a long time.” To make Dujonca twice affirm that the Man with the Iron Mask was first detained at Pignerol of course absolutely sets Avedick aside. The affectation of speaking several times of the Abbé Giraut, chaplain of the Bastille, is equally significant to Taulès, in so much that it reveals the cunning intention of carefully avoiding having to name the Jesuits, even when it concerns the Bastille, to which one of them was constantly attached. It is true that the registers of the Church of Saint-Paul confirm Dujonca’s journal, since the interment of the prisoner is related in them under the date of November 20, 1703.[288] But this objection does not embarrass Taulès. Without going so far as to suppose that these registers have also been falsified, he is very willing to accept them as authentic. “But,” says he, “this prisoner interred November 20, 1703, is not the one brought by Saint-Mars to the Bastille. It is some obscure stranger, and Father Griffet finding on the registers of this church the proof of his death in 1703, has used it as a basis on which to erect his falsehoods, and by attracting to him the exclusive attention of posterity, has turned it aside from Avedick, and has necessarily rendered ulterior investigations fruitless.”

But it is nothing of the kind. In this painful episode of Louis XIV.’s reign, the Jesuits have their share of responsibility, owing to the pressure which they put upon Ferriol, but they are completely innocent of the forgeries of which they have been accused.

The perfect authenticity of Dujonca’s journal is shown by many proofs. It suffices to have read it and assured oneself that it is not composed of detached leaves afterwards bound together, but has been written all entire by the same incorrect and simple pen, in order to be convinced of the impossibility of the least alteration. Either it is a forgery from beginning to end, or the pages relating to the Iron Mask have for their author that kind of general superintendent of the Bastille, sometimes too pompously styled Lieutenant of the King, sometimes fulfilling the humble functions of turnkey, devoted to his multifarious duties,[289] who ought to be believed for his ignorance of certain things as much as for his complete knowledge of others, for the unfeigned simplicity of his language, and the tone of sincere assurance that runs uniformly throughout the entire journal. Moreover, not only is all that concerns the other prisoners corroborated by indisputable despatches deposited in other archives,[290] but the most reliable documents absolutely confirm the dates, and even some of the points indicated in the two accounts we have just quoted. Dujonca says in the first: “I had had his chamber furnished with everything some days before his arrival, having received M. de Saint-Mars’ order for it.” Now a despatch as yet unpublished and of especial importance contains what follows: “Barbézieux to Saint-Mars.—Marly, July 19, 1698—I have received the letter which you have taken the trouble to write to me the 9th of this month. The King finds it good that you should leave the Isles Sainte-Marguerite to go to the Bastille with your old prisoner, taking your precautions to prevent his being either seen or known by any one. You can write in advance to His Majesty’s Lieutenant of this château to have a chamber ready so as to be able to place your prisoner in it on your arrival.”

This despatch cannot be questioned. It exists in the archives of the Ministry of War. It was written by the Minister, Barbézieux, a short time previous to Saint-Mars’ departure for the Bastille, and like many others which we shall quote hereafter, it establishes in a formal manner that in 1698, and not later, the Man with the Iron Mask entered the Bastille, and that no alteration has consequently been made in Dujonca’s journal.

But to these definitive proofs let us add others drawn from Avedick’s very singular end. Let us return to this individual at the moment when he treads the French soil for the first time, and let us follow him to his death, less in order to complete our demonstration that he is not the Man with the Iron Mask—which would be superfluous—than to throw every light upon this little-known individual, and pursue to its dénoûment the story of this extraordinary crime.