The Man in the Iron Mask Read online

Lauzun, Saint-Mars promised, would be as quiet as the dead: “I engage upon my honor, Monseigneur, that as long as this gentleman is under my care you will hear no further word about him, it will be as if he is already in pace.”

  It was Saint-Mars’s practice to bore holes in the walls of his prisoners’ apartments so he and his turnkeys could watch their movements and hear what they said. The walls of Lauzun’s apartment permitted this; but just to be certain that nothing went unnoticed, Saint-Mars assured Louvois that he would learn everything he needed to know from the valet assigned to serve Lauzun. “I have found one with much trouble, because the clever ones do not wish to pass their life in prison.” In the end, Saint-Mars suggested that, as with Foucquet, Lauzun should be provided with two valets so that they could take care of each other should one of them fall ill, but also so that they could spy upon their master and each other.

  Louvois ordered that Lauzun should be allowed to hear mass, but only on feast days and Sundays. Saint-Mars promised him that this order would be carried out to the letter. He added that the man who confessed Foucquet would also attend Lauzun “at Easter and at no other time, whatever may happen.”

  Saint-Mars signed off with this assurance: “My only desire is to carry out exactly the orders with which you have honored me. I shall always endeavor to do this with zeal, passion, and fidelity, so I trust that you may be content with my small services.” No one could ever question Saint-Mars’s devotion to duty and his determination to carry out his orders to the letter.

  When he entered his dismal prison, Lauzun told Saint-Mars, “You have prepared a lodging for me in secular seculorum.” Sinking into a state of depression, he took badly to his new environment. He refused to eat, which left him dizzy with hunger, and would not speak to anyone, not even his valet. When eventually he did speak, it was to tell Saint-Mars that he felt he was going out of his mind, and the jailer feared that he might be right. When he learned that Louvois had not sent Saint-Mars a message for him, he cried out three or four times, “Pignerol! Pignerol! They will have the pleasure. I shall make a tragedy of my prison, and you will be the first to see it!”11

  Throughout the long journey from the Bastille, Lauzun had expressed his astonishment at his detention. Now, almost three weeks into his imprisonment, he asked Saint-Mars why he had been sent to jail, but Saint-Mars could only reply that he had learned nothing about it.12 By January 1672, Lauzun’s mental state had deteriorated to the point that he was threatening to kill himself.13 He genuinely had no idea why Louis had ordered his arrest and was at a loss to understand why he should have been sent to Pignerol, so far from the glittering court of which he had been such an ornament. However, in searching for reasons for Louis’s displeasure, Lauzun surely did not need to look far, for he had antagonized the king so many times that the real mystery lay in why Louis had not acted against him earlier.

  On one memorable occasion, Lauzun had competed with Louis for the heart of a lady. Catherine-Charlotte de Gramont was Lauzun’s cousin, and the two had largely been brought up together.14 The comte fell helplessly in love with her, and, to his delight, his passion was reciprocated. With no prospective marriage in sight for either of them at that point, the lovers were allowed to see each other as often as they liked. Lauzun, however, was merely the younger son of an impoverished Gascon noble, which made him an unsuitable match for the daughter of the aristocratic maréchal de Gramont. In time, Catherine-Charlotte’s marriage to Louis de Grimaldi, Prince of Monaco, was arranged, and the prince traveled to France for the wedding. This took place on March 30, 1660, and Monaco returned to his principality shortly afterward, leaving his young bride at the French court. She would leave to join her husband in the late summer of the following year.

  It was not until 1665, when Mme de Monaco returned to France on a diplomatic mission on behalf of her husband, that Lauzun would see her again. Any hopes he might have harbored about rekindling their romance were dashed when Louis fell for the princess’s charms. Lauzun, consumed with jealousy and resentment, decided to have his revenge on the king. He bribed the princess’s maid to tell him when Louis and her mistress arranged their next tryst. He did not have long to wait. As Louis waited expectantly inside his apartments for his lover to arrive, Lauzun quietly locked the door to the private back entrance, took the key, and hid inside the nearby privy to listen to the drama that was about to unfold.15

  Mme de Monaco duly arrived with Bontemps, Louis’s faithful and discreet chief valet, who saw her safely through the narrow passageways that led to the back door of the king’s apartments. Bontemps reached into the shadows for the key, expecting it to be in its usual place, but, of course, it was missing. Thinking that Louis had perhaps forgotten to leave it in the lock, Bontemps lightly scratched on the door to attract the king’s attention. Louis assured his valet that he had left the key outside as arranged, but still Bontemps could not find it. When, after extensive and frantic searching on both sides of the door, the key could not be found, the lovers had to admit defeat. As the disappointed princess returned to her own rooms, Lauzun gloated over the trick he had played from the safety of his hiding place.16

  In this way Lauzun exacted his revenge on Louis, but Mme de Monaco did not escape unscathed.17 Angry at her infidelity, the comte stormed into her rooms to confront her, but when he found that she was not there, he took out his frustration by breaking an expensive mirror. Later, he and the princess had a blazing row, in which Lauzun ungallantly threatened to show Louis letters that would compromise her. The princess preempted him, however; she went to the king to complain about Lauzun’s behavior toward her.

  Lauzun might have been a favorite, even a friend, but Louis was growing tired of his antics. He decided that it would be a good idea for all concerned if he sent the insolent little man to inspect the dragoons. This regiment, of which Lauzun was colonel, was currently stationed in faraway Béarn, which made the prospect of sending him to do his duty all the more attractive. Lauzun was devastated at the thought of traveling to the Pyrenees. He had no wish to go. He threatened to resign his post and then, in an extraordinary display of impertinence, he drew his sword and broke it, saying that he had no desire to put it to the service of a king who behaved as Louis did. Louis’s equilibrium was such that he rarely lost his temper, but by now his anger matched that of Lauzun. He turned and went to the window, took up his cane, and threw it out “for fear that I should have to reproach myself with striking a gentleman.” He then calmly left the room, his dignity, unlike that of Lauzun, intact. If, however, Lauzun thought that Louis had forgiven him his unpardonable outburst, he was mistaken. The following morning, he was arrested and conducted to the Bastille, where he would remain for the next four months.18

  On another occasion, Lauzun coveted the post of grandmaster of the artillery, which had recently become vacant upon the resignation of its holder, the duc de Mazarin.19 Lauzun pestered Louis mercilessly to give it to him, but his efforts were vehemently opposed by Louvois. As an ally of Colbert, Lauzun was naturally Louvois’s enemy, and the war minister was adamant that the comte should not receive such a valuable appointment. With Louvois entreating him on the one hand, and Lauzun begging him on the other, Louis delayed making the final decision. Eventually, he promised Lauzun that he would promote him to grandmaster but warned him not to disclose the news until a formal announcement had been made.

  When Louvois found out about the new appointment, he took it upon himself to sabotage Lauzun’s good fortune. Knowing that Lauzun had been sworn to secrecy, he wrote a note to the king telling him that he had heard rumors of the comte’s proposed promotion, wording it in such a way that Louis could be in no doubt that the rumors had originated with Lauzun himself. When Louis read the note, he was incensed. As he went to mass, he passed Lauzun in the corridor, but did not speak to him.

  Lauzun was alarmed; clearly, something was wrong. Later that day, he approached the king and inquired when he might expect the announcement of his new appointment to be made.
Louis merely replied that it would be impossible for him to make such a statement just yet, adding ominously that he needed time to consider the matter further. When Lauzun continued to press him, Louis told him coldly that since the comte had not kept his promise to remain silent, Louis was under no obligation to honor his promise. Lauzun, ever the optimist, continued to believe that the post was his, but he thought it prudent to ask someone to press the king on his behalf. His choice fell upon Mme de Montespan, Louis’s charming, witty and beautiful maîtresse en titre.

  Mme de Montespan appeared to be sympathetic to Lauzun’s plight and she promised to do anything she could to help. Lauzun, however, was not as certain of the lady’s sincerity as he would have liked. He bribed her chambermaid to hide him under the bed when her mistress next expected to entertain the king. At the appointed hour, Louis duly arrived and, after the couple had made love, Lauzun was treated to the pillow talk he was so desperate to hear. Just as she had promised, Mme de Montespan brought up the subject of the vacant post of grand master of the artillery, but Louis told her that he had no intention of awarding it to the comte de Lauzun. Instead of defending the comte and trying to persuade Louis to change his mind, Mme de Montespan recounted how she had duped Lauzun by promising to intercede for him. Lauzun could only listen as the couple ridiculed and laughed at him.

  As soon as Louis and Mme de Montespan left the bedroom, the chambermaid dragged the still stunned Lauzun out from his hiding place. He somehow managed to maintain his composure and stationed himself by the mistress’s door, waiting for her to emerge. Mme de Montespan was going to a rehearsal for a ballet, and Lauzun gallantly offered to escort her. He asked her if he dared to hope that she had found time to speak to the king as she had promised. She assured him that she had and began to recount the kind services she had rendered him. At this point, he leaned in and spoke gently in her ear, calling her a liar, a rascal, a hussy, and a piece of dog dirt before repeating, word-for-word, the conversation that had passed between her and the king. The poor lady was so shocked that it was all she could do to stagger to the rehearsal room, where she fell in a faint. That evening she told Louis the whole story of what Lauzun had said to her. The lovers were at a loss. They could not understand how he could have known what was said between them and concluded that he must have been informed by the devil.20

  Another incident involved Louis’s cousin, Anne-Marie-Louise d’Orléans, duchesse de Montpensier. Known as Mademoiselle, or La Grande Mademoiselle, she was the richest and, therefore, the most eligible princess in Europe. The daughter of Gaston, duc d’Orléans, Louis XIV’s uncle, she was still unmarried at the age of forty-five when she fell in love with Lauzun, eight years her junior. Convinced that he was as much in love with her as she was with him, she proposed to him and he accepted. Mademoiselle bestowed her lucrative properties upon him, the comté d’Eu, the duchies of Montpensier, Saint-Fargeau, and Châtellerault, as well as the sovereignty of Dombes, all of which brought their owner substantial revenues.21 She failed to take one important factor into account, however: as a member of the royal family, Mademoiselle was not free to marry whom she pleased. She required the king’s permission, but, too afraid to approach him in person, she wrote a letter outlining her desire to marry Lauzun and requesting Louis’s blessing.

  Louis was cautious about the match and he asked his cousin to think very carefully before taking a step “which might be followed by a long and hopeless repentance.”22 Louis hoped that, given time, he would be able to persuade Mademoiselle to change her mind, but he did not reckon on her resolve. Her mind made up, she continued to press Louis to give his consent. To marry Lauzun, she insisted, would be the only thing that could bring happiness and peace to her life, while the king’s refusal to allow the marriage to take place would leave her “the most miserable person on earth.”23 Seeing her pleas fall upon deaf ears, Mademoiselle and Lauzun turned to their friends, people from highest ranks of the nobility, to see what they could do to sway the king. Assailed by their arguments, Louis at last relented. Shrugging his shoulders in astonishment at his cousin’s “infatuation,” he said that “she was forty-five years old, and might do what she liked.”24 With the question now apparently settled, the couple set about making arrangements for their wedding.

  One of the couple’s allies had been Mme de Montespan, who had offered her assistance as they sought Louis’s permission to marry. The royal favorite, however, was warned by her friends of the dangers to which her actions would surely expose her should her reign as royal mistress come to an end. Afraid now, Mme de Montespan went to Louis and begged him for her own sake to stop the marriage.25

  As it happened, Mme de Montespan’s change of heart was just the incentive Louis needed, for he had been against the marriage from the beginning. Moreover, his mistress’s appeals coincided with a new rumor, one that greatly annoyed the king. Word had reached him that, as she received the good wishes of the court, Mademoiselle implied that she and Lauzun were marrying because the king wished it. This was untrue, and when Louis heard of it, he summoned her into his presence and, in front of several witnesses, spoke to her about her false assertion. Nervous now, Mademoiselle denied having said such a thing, adding that she had told everyone that the king had done his best to talk her out of marrying the comte. Louis accepted her protests, but he continued to hear stories that he considered to be very injurious to him. He described these rumors as:

  … being to the effect that all the resistance I had shown to the affair was only a pretense and a farce, and that really I was very glad to obtain so great a benefit for the Comte de Lauzun, whom everybody believes that I like and esteem very much, as is indeed the case; therefore, seeing my reputation so deeply involved, I resolved at once to prevent this marriage, and to have no further consideration either for the happiness of the Princess or for the happiness of the Count, on whom I can and will confer other benefits.26

  Louis sent once again for his cousin and told her firmly that he would “not suffer her to make this marriage,” nor would he allow her to marry any prince among his subjects, although “she might choose among all the qualified nobility of France whoever she liked except the Comte de Lauzun,” and, having done so, Louis would personally escort her to the church.27 Mademoiselle took the news badly. She burst into tears. She felt as though Louis “had stabbed her a hundred times in the heart with a poniard.” When Louis visited his grieving cousin the next day, he tried to console her by reiterating his promise of “great benefits” for Lauzun.

  As for Lauzun, he appeared to receive the news “with all the firmness and submission” that the king could desire.28 Nonetheless, when he found out about Mme de Montespan’s intervention, his anger knew no bounds. He abused her to her face and behind her back. So ferocious were his attacks that courtiers predicted his fall from grace: “Lauzun is a lost man,” said one, “he will not remain six months at court.”29

  So far Louis was not aware of how Lauzun was abusing his mistress. Thinking all was well, he offered to make the comte a maréchal of France. Lauzun refused this favor on the grounds that his past military service did not warrant it. He did, however, accept the governorship of Berry and the fifty thousand louis that went with it, which would, he said, allow him to clear his debts.30

  Lauzun continued to attack Mme de Montespan, and he even began to do so in Louis’s presence, yet it seemed that nothing could touch him. As Louis made a royal progress to Flanders, Lauzun and his friend Guitry31 sought his permission to cross into Holland. Why they went, no one knew; the visit could have been for pleasure, or it could have been a cover for some darker purpose, perhaps to do with the impending Dutch War. It was all very secret. Some courtiers thought that Lauzun had, in fact, been sent away and that the excursion into Holland marked the beginning of his exile. This surmise was proven wrong when the two men returned a week later, upon which Lauzun took up his three-month tour of duty as captain of the king’s guard.

  It appears that some form of reconcilia
tion now took place between Lauzun and Mme de Montespan, at least on his part. At this point, the post of colonel of the king’s guard became available and Lauzun desperately wanted it, not least because the holder would be constantly in the king’s company. As someone who greatly admired the king, this was an attractive proposition for Lauzun. One again, he was reluctant to approach Louis in person, so he asked Mme de Montespan if she would intervene with the king on his behalf. Once again, she agreed. History now repeated itself, with Mme de Montespan speaking to Louis in terms that were entirely detrimental to Lauzun. The little man had made her come to beg for the post of colonel on his behalf, she told Louis, adding that she would not award it if she were in Louis’s place.

  Louis could not understand why Lauzun employed such artifice when he could simply have approached him and asked for what he wanted. Mme de Montespan suggested that Louis should perhaps speak to Lauzun, to which Louis readily agreed. During the ensuing interview, Louis, pretending to be unaware that Lauzun had approached Mme de Montespan, expressed his surprise that the comte had no wish to acquire the post of colonel. Lauzun answered that he had received so many favors from the king already that he did not think to receive still more. He insisted that he had never thought of asking for the promotion, since there were so many others more worthy.

  “This modesty sits well on you,” Louis told him, but his manner was cold as he went on to reveal that Mme de Montespan had already spoken to him on the matter, which he did not think she would have done had Lauzun not requested her to do so. The king could not understand why Lauzun had tried to conceal his desire to be promoted to colonel of the guards, particularly as he had more right to the post than many; he added that he wished Lauzun would tell him the truth.

  At this, Lauzun once again protested that he had never considered asking for the post, and at this Louis’s mood turned darker. The king declared his astonishment at Lauzun’s temerity in lying to him. He then informed Lauzun that Mme de Montespan had told him everything. Louis now assured the comte that he felt certain that he would never again believe anything he might have to say. He rose at that point and dismissed Lauzun, making it very clear that he had no desire to listen to any excuses. Lauzun stormed out of the room in anger and despair. He went straight to Mme de Montespan’s apartment, where he vented his anger in a torrent of abuse.